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youcouldmakealife · 5 months

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LBTE: Jared (136-137)

I love it when a plan comes together. Especially when, as in this case, the plan has been in motion for years (on my part, at least. More of a day-to-day thing on theirs)

If you want to follow along, you can here.

136. Hostage Negotiations

Fans howling or not: he’s a star player and you do not hand a star player to your divisional rival. You just don’t. Unless you’re like, the Leafs back in the day, but Lapointe had a bad season before that, and Jared suspects that deal was made on the winged feet of homophobia. The former GM of the Leafs and Deslauriers are probably poker buddies or something.

I like to picture the Old Boy’s Club as a real thing sometimes. It’s at a golf course, naturally. The only women are decorative. Scotch and cigars and toxic masculinity and white privilege and unearned cockiness. Random deer skulls because they like to mount their trophies. Etc.

“I mean, I hope I’m staying in the West,” Bryce says. “Calgary’s probably going to start reaching out, seeing who’s interested, ship me off before the NTC kicks in.

That would certainly be the clever thing to do, considering how few options they’ll have come July 1st. But then, when have the Flames done the clever thing in this universe?

The Senators beat the Scouts in a massive upset.

Scratch and Money become ScratchnMoney. And a Cup for Dan and the boys!

Greg goes back and forth with the Canucks. They ask for 5.5, even though Jared would have been content with the initial 4.5 offer, told him that, Greg exasperated with him on the other side of the phone. The Canucks agree to 5. He knows the two years combined are less than Bryce makes in a single year, but it’s — huge to him. They send him the papers, and Jared doesn’t know whether to sign them or not.

That’s 2.5 AAV on a two year deal, which is pretty fair as far as bridge deals go for a middle-sixer you use heavily on special teams. Jared could have, but didn’t want to sign for longer, with no idea where Bryce was going to be in two months, let alone two years.

“Still,” Jared says. “Foster’s like — he seems like a genuinely nice guy, maybe he’d—”

“He’s a GM, babe,” Bryce says. “He’s not going to just let you like, go because of love or whatever. It’s a business.”

If any GM would…

Jared signs everywhere he’s supposed to sign it, and that’s it. He’s a Canuck for two more years. Bryce has two more years on his contract, so — maybe in two years they’ll figure it out, manage to get to the same place together. It’s hard to be happy about that when two years sounds like, well, two years, when Bryce is already frayed close to snapping.

Obviously the situation is vastly improved very shortly, but I think Bryce going just about anywhere would have probably improved his mental state, though being in the East would be undoubtedly hard on them as a couple.

They crack open a nice bottle of wine, eat good dad cooking, and Jared gets his hair ruffled by his parents like, a billion times, like being a millionaire means they get to treat him like a kid again.

Jared gets so huffy when people fuck with his hair. Which of course both parents are aware of. Gotta keep him humble. (They’re also, you know, proud of their boy!)

“You were already a millionaire,” Erin says, her hand outstretched. Jared eyes it.

“What was your signing bonus, Jared?” Erin asks sweetly.

“Nothing,” Jared says. “Not a cent.”

“Jared,” Erin says, hand still outstretched. “The internet exists. It is literally public knowledge.”

Money please.

It was a quarter of a million dollars of his contract up front and Jared isn’t going to give her any of it. He already offered his parents a cheque and was rebuked and then offered again, citing financial support being the reason he had a hockey career, and had it very grudgingly accepted.

They both have well-paying middle-class jobs and aren’t hurting for money, but they are currently paying for Erin’s schooling and expenses, so it is eventually accepted (very grudgingly).

“Am I boring?” Jared says.

“You are the most exciting person in the world,” Bryce tells him, all earnestness, and takes his hand at the next red light.

Jared squeezes, then lets go. “Both hands on the wheel, babe,” he says.

“You can sometimes be a little boring,” Bryce says.

I mean —

Free-agency comes Bryce is still a Flame, which means all the leverage is his now.

Dropped a punctuation mark and/or word, whoops.

“Who’re your three?” Jared asks that night, fingers running through Bryce’s hair as Bryce drowses beside him.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Bryce says. “Like, I’m going to put Vancouver on it, obviously, but it’s just going to be a flat out no from them.”

“I know,” Jared says.

“If they gave in they’d ask Vancouver for way too much in return and they’d say no,” Bryce says.

“I know,” Jared repeats.

Bryce blows out a breath. “I wanna go so bad,” he says. “I just—”

The scheming is underway.

“I trust you in absolutely everything,” Bryce says solemnly, which automatically puts Jared on guard.

“Except?” Jared says.

“Be patient with me during the negotiations?” Bryce says.

Dave’s now involved in the scheming.

“Are you going to be booed the next time you play in the Saddledome?” Jared says.

Bryce smiles, and Jared doesn’t care if that means Bryce is playing further from him, that they may give up the apartment that’s felt like home since Jared was seventeen. He doesn’t care. Bryce smiled.

Jared really would light the Saddledome on fire for him. And not figuratively speaking.

137. Culmination

It’s all of twenty four hours after Summers comes to town that Bryce literally comes jogging in the door, yelling, “J?” like Jared isn’t sitting on the couch ten feet away from him half-watching the news. One nice thing about living in Vancouver is he doesn’t have to listen to the fucking UCP. “J, turn off your phone.”

He ran the entire way home. It was not a long run — partly due to distance, partly due to speed. He wanted Jared to hear it from him, especially if the ‘Bryce Marcus to Tampa’ came separate from the follow up ‘and then to Vancouver’.

“Your phone was about to go crazy and I need to tell you this before someone else does,” Bryce says, kneeling in front of him like he did last night, clean pressed suit and earnest eyes. “I’ve gotta sign papers still but—”

Practically a proposal, which is fitting because Bryce just did everything in his power to be where Jared was. And yes, it’s his hometown, and his childhood team, and his mom’s there, but he would have done it wherever Jared was (would have been easier to swing, in fact, were they not divisional opponents)

“Please tell me it’s a Western Conference team,” Jared says.

“It is,” Bryce says.

“If it’s Edmonton I’m going to be—” Jared says.

Bryce kisses him. “Shut up for a second,” he says.

Jared scowls, but does.

He knows your proposal derailing ways, Matheson.

“Three teams on my list,” Bryce says. “They picked one of them.”

“They would have to if you’ve been traded, unless you waived your NTC,” Jared says. “You know I know all of this, stop being all weird and cryptic and—”

Jared let him explain his and Dave’s plan to you, he wants you to be proud of his scheming!!!

“Tampa’s over the cap,” Bryce says. “And they were desperate to shed salary so they could re-sign Tanner before someone bit and offer-sheeted him and they gave Calgary Schlitz and Barbieri and a second for me.”

Dear RL NHL GMs: use more offer sheets, you utter cowards!!!

So, deal wise, Tampa comes out of this very nicely. They get cap space they needed, they shed good but too expensive players, and they trade a second for a first (from Vancouver when they flip Bryce), and a goalie prospect when they don’t have anyone particularly promising in the prospect pool.

Calgary gets a decent if not terrific haul from Tampa, and it looks like an okay if not great deal for them, but understandable given the short trade list. Until, well. The second flip. Then they look like dupes.

“Tampa can’t afford to keep me,” Bryce says. “Which is why Vancouver offered Tampa a first, a third, and a goalie prospect because Summers told Foster, strictly off the record, I’d re-sign in a heartbeat when my term was up and I’d give them a significant hometown discount when I did as long as my husband was still in the Canucks line-up when that time came. Do not fucking tell anyone that last part, not even your parents or my mom.”

Obviously Vancouver is over the moon about getting Bryce. Hometown hero, on a sweetheart deal for two more years, going to sign for cheap as long as Jared’s by his side.

Dave Summers was in violation of NHL rules and ethics for conveying that message to Vancouver and we should all tsk and shake our heads. (But we’re not gonna)

Jared beams at Bryce.

Bryce beams back.

This is what we’re doing instead.

“I can’t believe I made you this Machiavellian,” Jared says.

He’s so proud.

He IS so proud of your scheming, Bryce!

“They weren’t really — big on moving me at first,” Bryce says. “Like, even with the media shit and all, I’m on a deal that was pretty normal then but cheap now and they figured my play was back on track so like, may as well wait, see if they could get more for me next season at the trade deadline or throw me at someone before I was a UFA. So I maybe like, held out until my NTC kicked in and then mentioned that my trade value was higher right now because I hadn’t come out yet and I was considering it.”

This isn’t technically against rules or ethics because ‘player wants to come out’ is legally protected, at least in Canada, but you know, it's probably not morally in the clear. But I think weaponizing your sexuality against bosses who have been absolute shits about it falls under ‘they have it coming’ branch of ethics, ie: karma’s a bitch and so am I.

“You’re not considering it,” Jared says. If Bryce was even remotely considering it, Jared would have caught on.

Bryce shakes his head. “Not to media,” he says.

Famous last words, though that shoe won’t drop for a year and a half.

They're both smiling too hard for the kiss to be any good but Jared doesn't give a fuck, he hauls him in, tastes Bryce’s smile against his own, feeling like he can breathe easily for the first time in months.

All of Jared’s favourite kisses with Bryce are objectively bad because they all involve them both beaming their faces off and I love that, especially since Jared isn’t much of a grinner. (Bryce increasingly is, especially after moving to Vancouver, but Jared mentions Bryce grinning so much you’d think he has a perma-grin — he doesn’t, except around Jared.)

As much as ‘actually on the same team now’ calls for some terrific celebratory sex, it’s going to have to wait. Bryce has papers to sign. They have people to talk to. They are grown ass adults who cannot have celebratory sex.

Maturity is so boring.

“Foster wants to talk to you?” Bryce says.

Jared takes the phone.

“Hi Jared,” Foster says.

There’s a bit of a laugh in Brian’s voice right there because he’s been gleefully laughing to himself all day. He did absolutely nothing to earn this deal that makes him look like a genius except be a stand up guy and I am delighted for him.

“You tell Bryce he has the biggest brass balls I’ve ever seen,” his dad says.

This is the most Don has ever liked Bryce. And really the moment Don puts down the Flames fandom. He doesn’t know what was involved, but he suspected it was complicated, and that Bryce did some shit, and that he did that shit so he could be with his son, and Don can’t not admire that. (Also the brass balls.)

“How’d he keep this a secret?” Elaine says, now sounding completely incredulous.

Bryce is way better at keeping secrets than Jared or Elaine. But only if he considers the secrets GOOD secrets. Like ‘I want to marry you, I bought a ring’ — hidden for months. ‘I have been setting up a charity’ — four months of steady work before he felt confident letting Jared know about it. And some of that is Jared being oblivious, but Bryce is perfectly good at hiding something he considers a surprise rather than a secret.

He’s got a next text when he gets off the phone with her, Stephen has not stopped laughing since we found out. Legit is going to make himself puke. Imagine you’re slammed right now but give us a call when you get a minute?

Stephen is DELIGHTED by this. Gabe’s a little concerned honestly, the dude is puce coloured at this point.

“They’re going to boo you,” Jared says.

“I know,” Bryce says.

“Not just the first time,” Jared says. “They’re probably going to do it for years. They might do it for the rest of your career.”

Bryce shrugs. “I know.”

A lot of Bryce’s complete and utter exhaustion in the run up to this deal involved him coming to terms with and making peace with that fact; that he was going to leave Calgary on poor terms, that he was going to get a boo from the crowd rather than a tribute video and a standing ovation. And this was going to happen no matter where he went, but yes, going to Vancouver significantly upped the chances of that happening for the rest of his career.

Bryce shrugs again. “It’s going to suck,” he says. “I’m probably going to feel like shit. But like. I get to play for my hometown team, and live with you all year round, and be near my mom and my grandparents and it’s like — it’s worth it, so. Whatever I have to deal with, I’ll deal with. Plus like, it’s nice knowing going in that it won’t be a shitty room. Because if it was a shitty room you would have bitched about it. Hell, you bitched about the Oilers’ room being nice.”

How dare Darryl Rogers exist, being friendly and supportive to rookies.

“Well,” Jared says. Fair. Stupid Darryl Rogers being a nice guy and welcoming him kindly.

Literally Jared, tho.

“Dmitry—”

“Sounds like a totally normal dude, you just hate everyone,” Bryce says.

This is also probably fair.

“He pied my face,” Jared says. “Twice.”

“On your birthday,” Bryce says. “With shaving cream. Which is a tradition.”

“He pied my face,” Jared mutters.

God I love Jared.

“Want to rail me in your Canucks jersey?” Bryce asks.

I would suggest against this for purely Pavlovian reasons, but you do you boys.

Canucks blue really brings out Bryce’s eyes. It’s like, stunning, how beautiful they look.

“Less talk about my eyes, more getting your dick in me,” Bryce says.

The ONE time Jared tries to be romantic.

“Look at me?” Jared says, and when Bryce does, his eyes are so fucking blue.

“Vancouver,” Jared says, and tastes the grin that spills across Bryce’s face in response.

They did it!!! Took 137 parts, but they made it to the same place!

#liveblogging the end

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squid-ichorous · 2 years

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the first scene of SNAPPER, a body horror t4t love story about a guy struggling to make ends meet, maintain personal relationships, and weigh the moral consequences of having a flesh-hungry parasite living in his uterus

He’s here again, sitting in a shitty little hotel bar nursing a cheap well special. The ice melts under the moody lights above the bartop, its shifting silent under the din of bro country. He idly swings a sneaker-clad foot against the leg of his stool, shaking peachy-pink bangs out of his face. There’s a shape moving towards him, a shape that turns into a decent enough looking guy with a red flannel and a camo cap with a swooshy emblem of lines vaguely resembling a deer. The man’s eyes trace the silhouette of his body. The man extends his hand with a smile.

“Hey. I’m Greg.” He smiles back, letting his voice lilt upwards in register.

“Ty,” he says, lightly gripping and shaking the hand. Greg’s touch is gentle, like the way his mama taught him to treat a lady.

Poor fucker.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Greg asks. Ty nods and turns a little as Greg perches next to him.

They make small talk and Ty goes through the motions like he’s checking them off of a list: bat your lashes, lean in, mirror whatever he does without being too masc. He’s not a bad looking guy - scruffy dark brown hair poking out from under his cap, the stubble around his lips and along his jaw darker in shade. The sun’s baked some premature lines into his face, making the platonic ideal of a working man.

Greg compliments his bobbed hair; he doesn’t need to know that it was ten bucks at the party store. The unnatural shine disappears in the dimness of the room.

Ty coyly glances into a compact mirror and he can see what no one else can. Lingering dark circles under his eyes, hidden under what feels like an inch of cakey under-eye concealer. Gauntness in his cheeks, blended out with bronzer and contour. Cracked dry lips scoured with his fingernail and smothered in balm. The mask is still in place though, and Greg’s just enough beers deep to stay blind to it all. Greg leans in, cheap fermentation on his breath.

“How ‘bout you n’ me get out of here,” he says, aiming for a sexy purr and landing somewhere around buddy-you’re-lucky-you’re-so-hot. Ty smiles, looking Greg over through his lashes.

“‘Kay. Wanna come ‘round to mine?” Greg slides off of his stool and offers Ty his arm. Just like mama taught him.

Ty tries not to think of the families. The mothers, the fathers, the siblings. The children and spouses, in some cases. Carrie Underwood, eat your heart out.

He drives, Greg’s enthusiasm having gotten the better of him. He takes a back-assward kinda way, winding in back alleys with Greg’s hand on his thigh, Ty’s skirt shifted up a little and Greg’s thumb stroking the bare skin. He parks and flashes a look at Greg, eyes half-lidded with his lip in his teeth.

The apartment is down a short flight of stairs, behind a door, down a hall, behind another door. One room plus bath, hastily painted slum-lord white, linoleum floor. Furnished in some decent pieces nabbed from campus when the students were moving out. Sure, it’s a shithole, but for six hundred a month it’s Ty’s shithole. He makes it work.

As soon as Ty’s door shuts behind them Greg is on him, pulling Ty close and his lips landing everywhere. Hunger outweighs revulsion.

Checking boxes again. Pulling each other’s clothes off, Ty letting Greg take the lead because he doesn’t want it. So much for gentlemanliness. Greg says some dirty shit about Ty not wearing a bra; Ty can barely parse the words. He hasn’t owned a bra in years anyways.

Greg’s got a tight body, well-muscled and tan. The smell of sun lingers on his skin and for a moment Ty wants to slow down, to feel human warmth. To ask Greg to be gentle and let real threads of connection pull them closer together. He imagines what Greg could look like in the daylight - maybe he has coppery tones in his hair, maybe his eyes shine honey-gold. Maybe he really is a gentleman and had they met anywhere else he’d be a better man.

He’s probably wrong.

Hunger outweighs yearning.

They’re both naked and Ty drops backward onto the bed, landing in an almost cartoonishly coquette pose. Through the miracle of glue his wig is still on. Greg lies next to him and they kiss and kiss, the malt and hops fading like a bad smell you’ve lived with for too long. This has gone on for too long.

Ty hooks a leg around Greg’s hip and rolls, moving Greg onto his back and slowly grinding wet against Greg’s dick. He looks down at Greg, the pity on his face hiding in the shadows of the dark room. I’m sorry, he whispers, before his mind shuts off and something else awakens. Now Greg is meat. Just a big hunk of Okie beef.

It’s not the kind of sickening crunch you’d expect, it’s more like your cousin’s bully mix absolutely fucking up a turkey leg stolen from the fold-up table at meemaw’s birthday party. Unlike most mammals, there’s no bone in there. It’s just veins, cartilage, soft spongy flesh. When the jaws close around it, Ty lets out a soft, shuddering moan.

Then the screaming starts.

Another vital virtue of the apartment is how little sound travels, especially with all the hippie-ass tapestries on the walls hiding the layers of sponge and foam. Greg is screaming and thrashing under him, scared and bleeding and hurling every slur he can think of in Ty’s direction. Even the ones that don’t apply. Nobody upstairs is any the wiser. Something raises his hands and presses them over Greg’s mouth.

Red pools between his legs, splattering when Greg starts bucking his hips to shake Ty off. He tries to grab at Ty and tear him away, beat him, do anything to break free, but the jaws are like a fuckin’ hyena’s and he’s losing a lot of blood very fast.

When Greg stops moving there’s a nudge at the back of Ty’s brain. Hey, kid. Time to move on to the main course.

He puts his earpods in and starts up a multiparter podcast about mail fraud, turning it up as loud as he can. It’s not that he’s interested in the subject, it’s just better than the noises. Ty hooks his arms under Greg’s and drags him to the tub, a trail of blood following them. Great, now he has to clean up all this God-damned blood.

He gets Greg into the tub, although it’s a hell of a task. Greg might as well be a real side of beef with his dead weight; Ty almost wishes he was frozen and could just slide around. That would take far too long though. His freezer isn’t that big. He sits in the tub with the body and props his ankles up on the edges, legs spread wide, and leans back with his head on an inflatable shell-shaped pillow.

Some noise leaks in, like when you’re eating chips and it can be hard to hear anything else because it’s literally inside your head, you know? He can feel the works moving inside him, the teeth chewing slowly, some kind of fucked up peristalsis rippling the wrong way through his bowels. It’ll take all night, but it’ll shut the damn thing up for a while. He pulls out a blanket from behind the toilet bowl and covers himself before closing his eyes. A drowsy food coma to end the day.

#i've written a ways past this but idk how i feel about it #i'll chop and hack at it until i'm satisfied

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existentialdreadinc · 3 months

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Airborne Toxic Event

Greetings Mister Schiff,

On your desk you’ll find written directions as well as a map to an area at the east end of town.

Please arrive no later than nine thirty this morning.

Once at the designated location, you are to wait for an event to occur.

For confidentiality and security reasons we cannot describe the event, suffice to say it will be self-evident.

You are there merely to bear witness and should not try to engage with the occurrence in any way.

This is for your own safety and of the utmost importance.

After the event has concluded you are free to spend the rest of the day as you wish.

Sincerely,

Edwin McPherson – EDI Level Manager (34-39)

P.S. We understand that you’ve recently become acquainted with Greg.

David walked into Around The Clock to find Roy standing behind an elderly gentleman wearing hunting gear, forcibly thrusting his fist into the man’s camouflaged abdomen.

A moment later a piece of something flew from the elderly man’s mouth and landed on the white tile with a wet plop.

Roy went around and made sure that the man was breathing.

“Keep telling you, ya gotta chew more Carl.”

The man coughed violently and spat on the floor. “It’s these damn dentures. Cussed things don’t fit worth a shit.”

“Well then you ought to get some new ones.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The man said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “What do I owe ya?”

“Nothing Carl, you’re good.”

“Get you next time.”

“Sure.”

David watched the man amble out the door and into the parking lot where he slowly lowered himself into a long brown sedan that looked like it could comfortably seat ten people.

Roy was looking down at the chunk of saliva-soaked meat on the floor. “Real appetizing, huh?”

David chuckled. “So you’re saying I shouldn’t order the steak and eggs?”

“Get whatever you want just so long as you don’t try to inhale it like Carl.”

“Noted.”

“Have a seat anywhere and I’ll be with you as soon as I clean this up.”

David nodded and sat down at a booth across from the lunch counter where Carl had nearly eaten his last meal. He looked over the menu and decided on french toast with a side of bacon just as Roy approached the table.

“Sorry about that.” Roy said.

“Don’t be. You’re the reason that guy’s still upright.”

“Sadly, not for the first time.”

“Seriously?”

“Happened a few months ago. Starting to think the old bastard is trying to do himself in.”

“Well I promise never to try and asphyxiate myself in your fine establishment.”

“Glad to see you stuck around; most new folks don’t last more than a day.”

“Like you said, the place takes some getting used to.”

“That it does. What’ll you have?”

“Number three with bacon and a coffee please.”

“Coming right up.”

David pulled the paper map and instructions from his pocket and looked over them again. The location seemed to be right at the eastern edge of Marterborough though it wasn't clear where the actual border was or why he was going there.

“New assignment?” Roy said as he set down a large ceramic mug.

“Yeah, I’m supposed to witness an event?”

“What sort of event?”

“No idea, but they said that I’d know it when it happened.”

“Sounds about right.”

“That isn’t terribly reassuring.”

“It’s why I stick to serving food and saving lives.”

It took about half an hour to reach the location, which turned out to be an empty field that fronted a large wooded area.

He pulled his car off to the side of the road and started walking until he’d reached the approximate spot marked on the map.

Off in the distance he saw a herd of deer huddled together, half a dozen adults and a few fawns nestled in among the grownups.

David realized he hadn’t really seen any wildlife before now with the exception of that thing in the dumpster that Angie had dispatched. The animals glanced up at his arrival, but hadn’t made any effort to distance themselves. Usually you wouldn’t be able to get anywhere near them without the group hightailing it out of there, but they seemed perfectly content to just gaze over at him without any particular concern.

He took a few tentative steps forward then a few more expecting them to bolt at any moment, but they just kept on staring at him.

That’s when he saw it emerge from the treeline.

It was hovering just above the ground, darkly voluminous and billowing like a storm cloud but with a color that was closer to the mottled purple of a bad bruise.

There was no wind but it moved steadily forward through some unseen means of propulsion.

David saw where it was headed and shouted without thinking, wildly waving his arms about as he ran towards the deer, but they just stood there stock still as if entranced.

He was only a few yards away when the cloud reached the herd from the opposite side.

The sound was something closer to the frightened cries of children than any noise he’d ever heard from an animal.

David staggered backward and watched in abject horror as the cloud surrounded and devoured them.

When it was finished it drifted back into the forest leaving behind a pile of scoured bones.

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superangsty · 3 years

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ok ficlet prompt: tomgreg coffeeshop au but Tom is the barista and he's a total bitch about it. up to you whether this is a) an au where they don't know each other at all or b) post season 2 au where tom is on the outs. basically i just think it'd be funny to see tom forced into doing menial labor and taking it out on customer!greg by belittling his order. if you hate this, you never saw it lol

fsdgfgfdhs I feel like I didn’t get much snarkiness in there and I’m not sure if 1k+ words can still be called a ficlet, but here we go!

///

Tom doesn’t normally pay attention to customers. Sure, some of them you get used to when you’re seeing their miserable faces day in, day out, and for an even smaller percentage you remember their orders and sometimes, if you’re feeling particularly generous (or bored, either works), you let the ones who look like they’re about to cry skip the queue, but for the most part the hundreds of faces he sees each day blend together.

Hard, though, for a face to blend in with the others when it’s a foot above everyone else in the store.

It’s eleven in the morning and the rush is on, but every time Tom looks up from the till or coffee machine his eyes automatically dart to where this guy is standing in the queue, just briefly before he gets back to what he was doing.

When the guy gets to the front of the line, he smiles and says “hey, how are you?”, and for the first time in his years in this job Tom smiles back.

Then he goes and ruins it all by ordering a skim milk vanilla mocha latte with, and this is a direct quote “some kinda sprinkle things?”. Asshole.

He comes back the next day, in mid-afternoon when it’s quieter and Tom’s the only one behind the bar (and thank god for that, because after he’d left yesterday Tom had got honest to god wolf-whistles from the others).

“Hi,” he greets, still with that carefree smile. He tucks a piece of hair behind his ear. “How’re ya doing?”

“I’m great,” lies Tom. “What’ll it be?”

“Um, an iced almond-milk macchiato with, like, do you have some caramel? Like a lot of caramel?”

This guy had better not become a fucking regular.

He becomes a regular. Every day for a week, and never at the same time, he comes in and orders a new, somehow even more ridiculous drink than the one before. It’s infuriating.

Still, Tom can’t help but notice things about him. His hair needs a cut, he’s carrying a backpack that needs to be thrown out, like, ten years ago, and his suits are cheap but if Tom knows his shoes – and he does know his shoes – he’s wearing a pair of Crockett & Jones oxfords.

A line has to be drawn somewhere. Luckily, the guy draws the line himself when he comes in one day, 10pm, and asks for a cappuccino with four shots of espresso.

“Absolutely not.”

“What, why?”

Tom cocks his head, frowning. “Because you would have a heart attack, that’s why, and I don’t feel like dealing with a lawsuit.”

“No, it’s fine, I’ve had it before, actually, so.”

“Then get it somewhere else.” Tom waves a hand towards the door when the guy doesn’t move, just stands there with his eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights. “Shoo!”

He comes back the next day, orders himself a herbal tea, and introduces himself as Greg. Weird and unnecessary, as far as apologies go, but whatever.

Greg starts ordering normal drinks. Tom keeps on making ridiculous sugary crimes against humanity for him, and then telling him he’ll get diabetes when he accepts them. This is not flirting.

Greg starts staying to sit and drink in the café, rather than rush out. Sometimes he reads the newspaper, sometimes he flicks through paperwork. Sometimes Tom gives him one of the day-old cookies that are normally claimed by staff. This is still not flirting.

One day, there’s snow and no customers, and Greg says “hey, Tom, why don’t you sit with me for a bit?”, and Tom does.

They sit in silence for a couple of minutes, each sipping at their respective drinks, and then Greg asks “so you been working here long?”

“Couple of years,” Tom replies. “Came into some money, saw the storefront for sale, thought ‘why the fuck not’, right?”

He’s gotten very good at keeping this part vague. The money had come wrapped in the neat little bow of ‘redundancy package’, when in reality it was hush money in response to the breakup and the breakdown and the subsequent NDAs.

It’s not what Tom thought his life would be. It kinda sucks, actually, but whatever.

“Oh!” Greg says, again with those wide eyes of his. “I – I didn’t know you owned it, um, sorry? If I offended you?”

Tom waves it off. “New to the city?”

“Ha, yeah,” Greg says, smiling into his cup. “How could you tell?”

Everything about you, Tom wants to say. “You’ve just got a vibe,” he says instead.

A customer walks in, and the conversation is cut short.

This keeps happening. It’s like Greg knows when Tom won’t be busy, and he chooses those exact times to show up. It’s annoying, really. He’s annoying. And Tom isn’t flirting.

A couple of months later Greg walks in during the mid-morning rush with another, significantly shorter (not that it’s hard), man in tow.

Tom takes one look at him, unties his apron, and walks into the back room.

Kendall fucking Roy.

Of all the coffee shops in all of Manhattan, he had to come into Tom’s. Of all the customers in all the coffee shops in all of Manhattan, Tom had to befriend the one guy who just happened to know his ex-future-brother-in-law.

He stays back there until he hears Greg’s voice disappear out the door again.

“I brought my cousin by here yesterday, told him it was the best coffee in the city.”

The next day, Greg is back at his normal time and is sitting in his normal seat. Tom is reluctantly sitting across from him.

Cousins, jesus fucking christ, it keeps getting worse.

Also, Tom’s coffee is only okay. Greg should probably try some new cafes.

“And what did he think?”

Greg shrugs. “I don’t know, he said it was only okay. He also saw you walk into the back? Said ‘hey I know that guy’?”

“I used to work at Waystar Royco.”

Greg smiles incredulously. “No way! That’s where I work too!”

“Mm, nothing like a good bit of nepotism in the workplace, is there?” Tom bites out. But it’s not like he’s bitter, or anything. That would be hypocritical.

“Oh, ha, I guess.” Greg shifts awkwardly in his seat, like he’s worried Tom will think less of him. “So you used to work together?”

“Used to be engaged to his sister, too.”

Greg doesn’t drop his cup, but it’s a near thing. He gapes at Tom. “You’re Tom Tom?”

Whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean. He wonders what they’ve been saying about him, whether Greg’s important enough to know the real story or if he got the version they feed their friends and colleagues.

Not that it matters, because there’s no way Greg’s coming back after this. There’s no way Tom would want him to come back.

“I think you’re done, Greg. I’ll clear up your cup.”

Greg looks like he’s going to say something, but Tom walks away and doesn’t look at him until he leaves.

Against all odds, he comes back the next day. And the next.

#Anonymous #tomgreg #ficlet #my child is fine your child just wrote a 1.25k tomgreg coffeeshop au in the space of like 20 minutes

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themonstrousarchives · 3 years

Text

Hunt: Party Pack

Description: A motley crew of fellow monster hunters, but with a twist about them. They're just a little too monstrous. A quartet of roadtripping werewolves* seized by the Hunt, given an insatiable desire to track down and destroy other avatars primarily. They hunger for the PC that has done the most collateral damage, ready for revenge.

Hook, Session goals: Time for the most dangerous game, as we risk NPCs that the players have come across, along with any other monsters in the world- Bigfoot, an avatar of the Stranger, others capitalizing on the fears

Monster Type: Executioner (motivation: to punish the guilty) Powers: All of them have supernatural speed and strength, and can shapeshift into humanoid lycanthrope-esque beings for more effective predation. One of them is adept at using “magic,” mostly in a supportive way like a bard- helping to direct the others and prime their attacks. They try to lure monsters out, one of them faking weakness or taking on some aspect that the target might find appealing, then the bait leads them into an ambush. When hunting a group, they try to split everyone up so that they can gang up on whoever gets left behind. Attacks: Detailed below Weaknesses: The Dark, The Stranger, and the Spiral can either blind or misdirect the wolves, though actually killing them will be difficult- they have to be made into quarry to make them “vulnerable.” It’s a farfetched pull, but calling upon the owner of Lobos Ltd. (See the Deer Man adventure) and acquiring some of his cages would be effective in removing them as threats.

The Wolves: (Attacks ordered by preference)

Greg (Armor: 1) [][][][][][][] (Shapeshifts quickly)

Bite- 3-harm intimate

Claw- 2-harm ignore armor hand

9mm- 2-harm close loud

Johnny Hobo (Armor: 2) [][][][][][][] (Bait)

Claw- 2-harm close ignore armor

Bite- 3-harm intimate

Baseball bat- 1-harm hand

Elsa (Armor: 0) [][][][][][][] (Stays hidden/protected)

Magic Snare- 0-harm close restraining

Enchant- adds 1-harm to damage dealt

Shotgun- 3-harm close messy

Bite- 3-harm intimate

Pat (Armor 1) [][][][][][][] (Fastest chaser)

Knife- 2-harm hand

Claw- 2-harm ignore armor hand

Bite- 3-harm intimate

Greg (Hotheaded and rash. Eager to feel powerful.)

Johnny Hobo (Patient. Durable. The methodical pursuit, often tempering Greg or supporting the others.)

Elsa (The brains of the operation. Puts on a cool air.)

Pat (Jumpy, a pure manifestation of id. The fastest, but also the easiest to fool.)

Countdown:

Burgers on the Coast gets accosted by a brash customer. After they finish eating, they will leave and the table can be investigated.

The Pack arrives in town, a PC sees Johnny outside their window (if they doubletake, or run to get equipment, he will be gone).

If the PCs have convinced any “monsters” to only hunt “bad guys” or otherwise change their ways, the reformed monster gets ambushed. Depending on the monster, the Pack might kill them.

Shiro violently cuts back a mass of vines, which fight back, whipping around his arm and leg. As he pulls to get away, thorns tear into him, and the vines start to dig into him.

The Pack tracks down Bigfoot, and kills her after she menaces some campers.

The Pack finds Shiro restrained, spider lilies growing out of his mouth and stomach. They kill him.

They will start the next hunt, if not found, or if not given the primary focus during the hunt. They are essentially competition for the PCs.

Bystanders:

Susan- (Gossip, Victim) Burgers on the Coast waitress. She’s worked at this same restaurant for 30 years and as a result knows all the regulars. Greg will accost her, then Johnny Hobo will smack him upside the head. Only these two are at the diner.

Anuset- (Victim, Gossip) The mask is out pursuing someone it has targeted in the past week. As it falls upon this person and begin to unpeel, Johnny Hobo will appear behind it with a baseball bat. The morning after, a hunter will see a destroyed clay mask left discarded. Further inspection will discern that a couple fragments were taken.

Shiro- (Helper, Victim) Shiro has been plagued by vines overgrowing his orange tree. While he cuts them back, the vines fight back and restrain him, as impossible amounts of blood issue from his person. Where blood spills, spider lilies start to grow... after a few days he is still restrained, but the Party Pack finds him, and will kill him.

Bigfoot (Victim) (Stranger Avatar)- aka Isadora Vila Quintana, a hiker who got too lost in the woods and now menaces other hikers. She doesn’t quite need to kill the hikers, but often puts them into precarious positions after she is finished with them.

Francesca Lopez (Victim) (Stranger Monster) sells secondhand items. She has ties to Charlotte and her trade market, wherein Frannie goes around flea markets and digital marketplaces. Having recently finished a transaction, or at least would have if she hadn’t gotten caught by the Pack.

Minnie Taylor (Witness, Innocent) a resident who had gotten lost trying to find her own home. The Pack has promised to help her once the danger is cleared, and if they don’t return for her she will try to free herself from the place they sealed her into, inevitably getting lost and becoming a spiral avatar. She trusts the Pack to help her, and if the Players come across her, will not trust them if they don’t seem to have a good reason to kill them.

Isadora, the Lonely avatar Bigfoot

Shiro Kamada, the Slaughter avatar

Minnie Taylor, a woman about 29 years of age, who recently moved into the Strange Suburb (before it was strange)

Locations:

Burgers on the Coast (and Parking Lot)- the diner that the PCs have taken a liking to, their repeated presence dooms it to become a hub of Interesting Persons.

The table that Greg and Johnny sat at will have some traces that can be discovered- some gum under the table, a deep cut into the particle board table, a dropped receipt (Ammo- 9mm and shells).

Camping Grounds

In the forest, far from the sounds of the city, a hiking trail opens up to a small clearing where hikers can put down tents and keep a campfire. This is Isadora’s favorite haunt, because of it’s isolation and the sheer ability to disorient people in these woods. She can be tracked, sometimes.

Parked by the beach, one of many RVs. Once the right one is sussed out, it can be broken into. It is likely that at least one of the Pack is there, keeping watch. As soon as the PCs head there, the other members of the Pack will be notified, and they will circle the party, trying to make sure that they don’t leave with anything important.

Inside the RV is a mess. Clothes in one or two piles strewn over one of the seats or in a receptacle. Projects lay unfinished- Someone’s trying to patch their jacket, someone else is growing seed starters. Plastic dishes lay in the mini sink. One bed looks like it’s been used as an operating table on more than one occasion, a big antique chest sits in the corner undisturbed, and some hefty power tools poke out of a footlocker pushed out of the way. Treat this as a Haven for the Pack, with an Infirmary, an Armory, and a Workshop.

They also have many “trophies” from previous kills in an upper cabinet- everything sealed with an eye sigil. Some Tallow. A mushroom. A long, preserved beak. A lock of inky black hair. These hunters have been traveling the US, fighting monsters and leaving a wake of supernatural power vacuum.

Shiro’s home

Vines stretch, having grown a strong base on the telephone pole near Shiro’s home. Runners stretch from the pole to the lines and then to the houses. They have sprouted purple flowers, and are now growing green fruit- not yet ripened, though that may change quickly.

The vines are attempting to peel under the shingles of Shiro’s home to anchor themselves, though he has managed to beat back the majority. It’s harder for him to keep up with the vines currently suffocating the orange tree, though.

Him using his ultraviolent powers to destroy the vines has attracted the attention of the Party Pack.

The Strange Suburb

An entire suburb has fallen into unreality and is distorting- building extensions without rime or reason, warping through various decades and shapes. Think McMansions but worse and more terrible and insufferably generic. Very easy to get lost in, very easy to separate people and confine them in terrible, bland, almost claustrophobic (make sure everyone is okay about this if you use it) spaces. There is no real branding on anything, and looking through the house will find very little personal effects if any.

One house is holding Minnie Taylor. Elsa had set up wards which will keep the spiralizing at bay (The door containing her room is unlocked, but there are multiple and they shift around. A golden seal distinguishes this door if the players look for it with supernatural means).

The largest, most cancerous McMansion house is wavering in the most volatile sense. The house goes through waves of eras- wallpapered walls, then painted, then cheap drywall, then wood paneling. The rooms are labyrinthine, measurements all feel wrong- hallways too narrow, rooms too big or small. Pat is the scout of the group, and will be ready for anyone entering the house conventionally, sprinting away as soon as they come in. As the Players follow him (if they do), the rooms stretch and expand, making pursuit difficult. At the top of the house is a large, undefinable room with elements of any kind of room in the house. A little bit of a kitchen, a showerhead, photo frames on the walls and ceiling. In the center of the room lies Francesca, with Johnny Hobo holding her down as Elsa prepares Greg to execute her. Behind them all hangs a painting on the wall, from which a malevolent energy exudes.

Artefact: A Francis Bacon painting which is the source of the reality warping in the first place. Disrupting Elsa’s preparations will make the manifestation worse. The Players are able to either try to finish the Ritual Elsa was performing (containment, some reversal of the manifestation, at the cost of Francesca’s life), or find their own solution to destroy it.

Cold Open: A beat up RV speeds up Highway 101 under the light of a waxing moon. A folkpunk song plays through the speakers as a rowdy quartet sings along. Street lights illuminate a messy dashboard with all sorts of little tchotchkes- batteries, flashlights, pocketknives, that kinda stuff. The song ends and the next one opens with a death growl, and as they roar along, their voices get loud, feral, deeper. The RV hits a bump and the knick knacks on the dashboard shift, the riders laughing with the chaos. The next time the streetlights flicker to the dash, a mugshot of [PC] has made it to the top.

#the magnus archives #tma motw #pbta #monster of the week #the monstrous archives #Hunt module Party Pack #my work #needless to say. theyre all gay #mcmansion

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mileycfan4eva33 · 3 years

Text

Fandom: One Chicago

Title: Fight For Me:

Chapter 1 Red-Hot

P O V: Sylvie Brett

A/N: I don't own the legal rights to One Chicago or SVU despite my many attempts to beg for a partnership with Wolf Entertainment.

Wrightwood Park

2534 N Greenview Ave, Chicago, IL 60614

May 2021

"What you're not getting, Matt, is this has nothing to do with Greg Granger. It doesn't even have to do with me. It has to do with the fact that you're still in love with Dawson."

Matt Casey looked back at me wide-eyed; his expression held a storminess to it, the look of a deer caught in headlights. It's not cute or funny; the brutal truth never is when you break it down to its rawness. Deer are skittish, withdrawn animals, antisocial for fear of getting hurt; deer struggle to settle into one place for too long.

Deeply insecure but in a sweet coquettish nature, a deer's life is spent searching for venture traveling most of their lives in the pursuit of a balanced life, one that includes stability and prey and emotional fulfillment. They love to watch and are pros at the art of observance. They know their land every nook and cranny shy creatures as they hide in the elements of nature in the day and come out to explore and play at night.

Nimble yet beautiful creatures they are harmless to people, never confident enough for fear of rejection or being hurt. Being so cautious and skittish, however, can be dangerous, especially in the middle of the night when they are simply playing or following their families across the land; they are often caught off guard when a car comes speeding towards them suddenly they are caught in a situation beyond control they freeze hence the saying caught in headlights.

In those moments, the truth races through their minds they are going to die unless they act fast, most can not; it's simply not in their nature to fight, so used to being the prey they accept it's their fate to die; some have a rare ability to think fast and fight for their lives.

Most freeze.

"I called you out, and you haven't done anything about it. Maybe you should reach out and resolve that so you can go back to being the Matt Casey everyone around here looks up to, not this version."

It's been two weeks since I called Matt out on his refusal to acknowledge his feelings for his ex-wife and his slothful enervate undertaking of his feelings towards his so-called feelings to me.

"My feelings for you are real, Sylvie."

"I want you to know; I really appreciated you saying what you did last shift. You were right; thank you for helping me get my head straight."

Past conversations with Matt burn inside my head as I try to focus on the game I am in; I'm bent down into an athletic position with hands on my knees, ready for play to begin again. I can see Kelly Severide bouncing the basketball down the court. I know I need to focus; Kelly choose Leslie Shay and me to be on his team, and he's a beast on the court; he takes his game seriously. I don't want to look stupid or inexperienced; but I can't seem to get Matt and his words out of my head or my conversation with Stella Kidd.

"I basically just told Casey I'm in love with him."

"You know what? There's no need to panic here, okay. What is so wrong with him knowing how you feel? That is how you feel, right?

"I… I can't feel that way.

"Why not?"

"I just… I just can't. Trust me. I'm just going to pretend I didn't say what I said, and then everything can go back to normal."

"Is that really the healthiest?"

Shake your damn head out, Brett, focus. You need to be focused; you should be up there helping Kelly. Run Brett race towards Kelly, get Matt out of your damn head. My feet listen, forcing me to sprint towards where Kelly and Matt are fighting for dominance over the basketball, which is nothing more than an orange and black blur to my vision. No matter how fast I run, though, I can't escape the voices of my past.

"Hey, I just wanted to tell you, Brett. I'm delighted you're okay."

"It's just the craziest thing climbing out of there and seeing you. How'd you get there so fast?"

"Well, it wasn't just me. We all responded quick, rushed down there together."

"Hmm, funny, I didn't see anyone else at first."

"Yeah, they were there."

"It's always been you. Uh, I just mean, you're always the one who's there for me in a crisis. That's all I mean. I guess I'm just trying to thank you for being such a good friend."

"I don't regret kissing you, Brett."

If those words are all true, why is it taking Matt so damn long to fight for me? All I want is for a guy to love me enough to fight for me to make me his entire world. I'm not clingy or possessive; I don't need him stapled to my hip twenty-four-seven. I want to know that I am the only one whose scent is filling his nostrils. I want my delicate skin to linger on his fingertips the way a slow song is forever dancing on the tips of our memories.

Is it too much to ask? Am I not worthy of a guy to waste his time on? I feel as if I am drowning in an ocean of emotions. I spend so much time on my knees praying for the wisdom to see through this storm some days.

I lose my breath.

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13852425/1/Fight-For-Me

Read the rest at Fanfiction. Net or AO3

#chicagofire #onechicago #fanfiction #chicagopd #sylviebrett #brettsey #mattcasey

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thecandywrites · 4 years

Text

Jewel Of The North Part 4

Ok, so in writing this part, I imagined that while there is an art of reading actual tea leaves, I saw a picture of this plate on the left edge and thought ‘man wouldn’t reading tea leaves be easier if each squigly section was part of something? Like this section is the life section, this is the money section, this is the love life section, so on and so fourth’ you know, make it even more complicated than it probably is.Also I love and adore Indian jewelry, because that is a gold temple necklace. It’s just...gorgeous. And in my mind, a priestess of Aura (who I totally made up for this story) would be wearing a fabulous shawl, that heavy gold jewelry and a head band that would match and have something akin to an Asian tea ceremony and depending on which tea people chose- told the priestess about them, kind of like what your favorite color says about you. Also, LOOK AT THAT GOLD DRESS. Hot damn. Also as an LMT, Vahva Kun is NOT a thing. Again, something I made up.

And of course a thousand THANK YOU’s to the fabulous and super fabulous and creative @monstersandmaw for sharing the concept of ice orcs with me. Me and my Alaskan born heart instantly fell in love with them. Enjoy!

Jewel of the North

Part 4

In the morning, you pulled yourself from the bed and you felt like it was noon. Thank the gods for the time difference, because it was only 9 there.

“Well good morning sleepy head, working miracles wear you out?” Taylor teased you as she handed you a cup of coffee.

“Yeah,” you nodded as you took it and drank it gratefully.

“So, what’s the plan?” Taylor asked.

“Massages today, working with Noah tomorrow, after that…” You shrugged.

“Happily ever after.” Taylor supplied.

“Hush or you’ll jinx it.” You shushed her in a whisper but her scheming grin was infectious.

It took all day but by 7pm, you had gotten everyone taken care of that you came to take care of and Taylor decided to get takeout for dinner and while at the takeout restaurant that was on the other side of town, the group of pilots came striding in.

“That’s them. The other pilots.” Taylor breathed.

“Who’s who?” You whispered back before she specified who was who before you had her shut up so you could overhear their conversation. They were going to get food here and then go for drinks at ‘the bar’ later.

“What bar?” You whispered to Taylor.

“Knowing them- it’s probably Goose’s, they have the cheapest booze around and it’s close to their apartment, like within walking distance.” Taylor answered.

“Goose’s is the seedy, underbelly place that I don’t want to go to the bathroom in? That has the awesome cheeseburgers?” You asked.

“Yeah,” Taylor nodded as an idea bloomed in your head.

“Are they attracted to women?” You nodded over to them.

“Oh yeah,” Taylor confirmed before one of them wolf whistled to a group of women who came into the restaurant. Ah. Those kinds of guys. Almost too easy.

“Could you take me there? I have an idea, it’s a dirty, underhanded idea though.” You whispered.

“That means it’s a fantastic idea.” Taylor grinned.

“What shoe size are you?” You asked.

“9.” She answered.

“Sweet, do you by any chance have any hooker heels?” You hinted.

“Wait, wait, wait, you won’t have sex with Noah but you want to go to Goose’s in hooker heels? Every guy in that place is going to fighting for the chance to take you home if not fuck you senseless in the bar’s bathroom, if not the parking lot.” Taylor answered.

“Oh trust me, the only one taking me home is you, I have a plan. How fast can you get dressed and dolled up?” You urged her.

“Oh give me thirty minutes tops.” Taylor insisted.

You got the food and barely ate two bites of it before you and Taylor quickly locked yourselves in her bathroom to get ready as you put on your most seductive makeup and a slimming undergarment under your sexiest dress that had the push up bra to end all push up bras as you brought and slipped into her hottest “hooker heels” while she wore the more sensible shoes you brought since you were the same shoe size as her.

“How do I look? She-wolf enough?” You asked her.

“Ah, I see, you’re going to eat them alive.” She realized.

“Yup, my brother’s mother in law- Olga is a priestess for Aura and is Yamalian which is near Siberia and she nicknamed me Zahnochka Volchitsa which means ‘she wolf that rises again’ and just like Beyonce has Sasha Fierce, Zara Kingsley has Zahnochka Volchitsa, and Zahnochka is going to get them so wasted, they won’t be able to fly tomorrow which is good ol’ fashioned sabotage and when they can’t fly the loads, Noah will be there to pick them up and save the day.” You revealed.

“Oooh, evil and diabolical but for the best cause ever- I love it.” Taylor nodded in approval.

“Just don’t tell Noah, I don’t think he’d approve of my methods or like Zahnochka very much because I haven’t used “her” in a long time.” You urged her.

“Lips are sealed.” She swore as she had you wear her fancy dress jacket to cover up so Greg wouldn’t see you or the kids.

“Honey, Zara and I are going out for a drink, we’ll be back later.” Taylor told her husband as she quickly ushered the two of you out of the house and drove to Goose’s as you got in your wallet and slipped money into your cleavage on the way there so you wouldn’t really have to get your whole wallet out and chance any of them seeing your business card or your real... anything. Then you prayed to the gods for courage and hoped this gamble would be worth the risk to yourself and hoped this wouldn’t backfire and blow up in your face or bite you in the ass.

Once in the bar you zeroed in the group of pilots sitting together at a table towards a wall, which was perfect and out of the way, just the way you liked it as a mischievous smirk danced on your lips.

And then you locked your smoldering and seductive gaze with one of them who froze and stared back in awe like a deer caught in headlights as he watched as you strutted and sauntered into the place, your heels clicking on the tile and slowly slipped out of your light jacket to reveal your gold silk dress and made sure that every guy in the place with a pulse knew you were officially on the radar. You had an ability which you had perfected over your life, you called it the ‘Marylin Monroe effect’ because she had this gift that she could ‘turn on’ and she could transform from normal house wife to blonde bombshell right before anyone’s eyes and you had a similar gift and you were about to use it again.

“What can I get you to drink Gorgeous?” The bartender John asked as he was grateful he was working tonight, and here he thought it was just going to be a normal week night with the same old regulars but low and behold, a brand new gem came walking in, you must have just come into town because you were a brand new face. Plus, you were clearly the hottest woman in the place, hell in the whole damn town and you were dressed to kill and obviously on the prowl and he was ready offer himself as your prey for the night.

“What kind of whiskey do you have?” You asked as John began going through what he had, feeling a little embarrassed that they didn’t have a ton to choose from and what they did have, didn’t seem good enough for the goddess you were.

“Give me some Jamie, that’s plenty good enough for me, on the rocks please.” You ordered.

“And you Sugar?” John asked Taylor.

“Same.” Taylor agreed before John poured two very generous portions into glasses over ice and served them to you.

“Thank you.” You thanked him.

“So I take it you’re a friend from out of town.” John hinted as he looked from Taylor to you.

“That’s correct, I’m Zara Zahnochka Volchitsa Kingsley.” You introduced yourself, rolling your r’s and taking on a slightly Siberian accent with the roll of your own name off your tongue as you shook his hand.

“John Wilks. Pleasure to meet you.” He shook it before it he took your hand and kissed it which got you to giggle bashfully before you pulled him towards you which caused him to lean as far over the bar as he could before you pulled a hundred dollar bill from your cleavage and slipped it into his hand.

“Give me the lay of the land.” You purred as you twirled your finger subtly to gesture to the bar.

“Uh, well, there’s…” He began as he listed off who was around the room, using the old ‘ 3 o’clock’ 6 o’clock’ method as you got the confirmation that all the guys at the table on the wall were the other pilots.

“Could you do me a favor?” You requested.

“Anything.” John offered.

“Get me the darkest beer glass you have. Empty it so I can use it as a chaser cause I have a feeling every guy in this place is about to buy me a drink and I don’t want to get too drunk and when it gets full, get me a new one.” You proposed, your voice dropping to a low murmur so that only John and Taylor could hear you.

“You got it.” John nodded in understanding as he got you the Milk of Dragon. Usually the beer is so dark and heavy it was black on it’s own but the glass was pitch black and you couldn’t tell except from picking it up if it had beer in it or not.

“Are you ready to see a show?” You breathed to Taylor who nodded before you got the glass and pretended to take a long pull from it before you turned in your chair and Taylor watched as you seemed to turn something on inside you- up full blast like seeing a Hollywood star light up on the red carpet, it was like you were a beacon of light, but you were all fire and flames, burning so hot you could set the stool you sat on- on fire and every man in the place just became a moth and every man couldn’t help but be drawn to you and you were practically swarmed.

"So what's your name Beautiful?" One guy asked.

"Zara- Zahnochka Volchetsia- Kingsley." You introduced yourself, giving the same flourish to the name and putting extra emphasis on the middle portion of your “name” while quickly rolling through the real parts of it which they all ate up like candy.

And instead of getting overwhelmed, you seemed pleased and basked in all the attention as you tried to give each guy in there just a few minutes of attention, remaining friendly and giving a little bit of your time to everyone so that no fights broke out for your attention, letting them spit game, each line greater than the last as your amused giggle filled the air and your smile lit up the dimly lit bar before the group of pilots came over and tried their luck and while their lines weren’t as clever as the others, you pretended to be the most affected before you offered your hand for them to lead you back to their table as you were sat down as the others grumped but watched on enviously as the group of pilots who weren’t all that handsome or all that impressive seemed to win your favor which didn’t make any sense to the rest of them maybe you just had a thing for younger guys. But you made your choice and they would respect it as Taylor sat next to you and just watched as the Zara she thought she knew was replaced by a full blown she-wolf. She didn’t know you had it in you but she knew why you were doing it and she had to respect the masterful way you were choosing to deal with the problem because no one else had the guts to do it this way. But it was genius.

“So are all of you pilots?” You asked eagerly as you sat at the table, putting on your best doe eyes and making sure you sat in such a way that your cleavage was heaving with every breath as they all undressed you with their eyes.

“Oh yeah, he flies…” Derek began to list off the different planes and you pretended to be impressed by it all as they ordered you drink after drink which was part of your plan, “chasing” it with your “beer” as you pretended to get tipsy, laughing at everything they said that was even slightly funny.

“So what do you do? Other than look sexy as hell?” Evan asked.

“Oh nothing much, just taking care of the estates and trust funds I’ve inherited when my grandparents died when I was younger, " You waived off and grinned when all their eyes practically got dollar signs in them and they were staring at you the way a hungry dog would look at a steak. Oh they would devour you the moment you let them.

Perfect.

“And I’m an LMT which stands for liscenced massage therapist, would you like a demonstration?” You purred.

“Hell yeah, my body is yours to do as you wish.” Evan offered before you took his arm and started massaging it and giggled when he groaned and moaned in pleasure before you got a brilliant idea.

“Well, as an LMT, I’m certified in using Vahva Kun, which all my body builder clients swear by and by using it, they build the biggest, most impressive muscles possible and it feels better than sex with the gods, would you like to try it?” You offered.

“Hell yeah,” they readily agreed as you went about using it on them as their moans and groans filled the small bar as you straddled their labs to get as close as possible to hit all these points in their bodies, leaving each of them feeling like a god themselves and the buzz they had already been feeling from the booze was amplified and they were feeling the most intense afterglow that did indeed surpass the afterglow after an orgasm as Taylor watched on curiously and only when you ordered another round of shots for the guys, this time of the 153, the strongest alcohol in the place, since you had massaged their necks and made sure to access their ‘sleeper mode’ muscles, then they took that last shot and promptly passed out and you used that to use their fingers tips to get into their phones and deleted the pictures they had taken of you in the compromising positions of their laps before you stood up and strode over to the bartender and slipped him another hundred dollar bill since by the time you were done, most of the other patrons had gone home for the night since it was past midnight and almost last call.

“Thanks for looking out for me tonight, you may need to call a taxi or an uber for them. They obviously won’t be able to drive home.” You nodded over to the table before you strutted out of there with Taylor and while you weren’t drunk on alcohol, you were definitely drunk on power and the thrill of what you just did because letting your inner she wolf out to breathe and feed for the first time in forever and it felt amazing.

“So what’s Vahva Kun?” Taylor asked as she drove you to her house.

“Vahva Kun is short for Vahva Kun Olen Hiekko. It means ‘strong when I’m weak’. Body builders pay me a grand each to do that to them a week and a half before competitions to make every muscle in their bodies’ bulge. In massage there’s only a few ways of doing things, and that is- pain now- pleasure later or pleasure now- pain later and Vahva Kun is as intense as pleasure now pain later gets. The reason it’s so pleasurable now is I use the body’s tendon organs to “turn off” muscles from the nervous system, this gives the effect to the brain that the muscle has become completely relaxed which feels amazing in the moment. But when you turn a muscle off, especially prime movers or major primes, the muscles that are responsible for your major movements, that means they can’t work anymore because you just told them, via their tendon organs to go the fuck to sleep and go on a little vacation and they become completely unresponsive and they feel lighter than air at first. So while they’re out in la la land, and can’t hear a thing from your nervous system who’s screaming at them to move. So that leaves only the synergists and the little assistant muscles to try to do the job of the major primes which they are ill equipped and too weak to do but they try their best. So they end up bulging by the end of it because they have no other choice because your body needs to move. However another thing happens when you do Vahva Kun, the nervous system freaks out. Now we all know how ecstasy works, it floods your brain with endorphins and other feel good chemicals to the point of overwhelming it right? Well Vahva Kun does the same thing initially. So what you’re left with is a brain who can’t feel most of the muscles in their body and is overwhelmed with pleasure and it freaks out and how it does that is it suddenly feels that the pleasure is actually pain and that you’re being attacked but it only does the switch once you succumb to the pleasure and pass out and the switch happens during your first sleep cycle.”

“So when they wake up tomorrow, they’re going to feel like they got hit by a mac truck and moving will be agony.” Taylor realised.

“Oh yeah, and when you do Vahva Kun you’re supposed to drink at least two liters of water or preferably an electrolyte drink before you take your initial sleep because in turning off the major primes, they release all their tension and everything that was trapped by that tension in particular all the “toxins” and acids and things stored in the muscles and when you drink a diuretic, like coffee or even worse- alcohol, the toxins can be released from one spot of the muscle but simply move and spread within the muscle belly instead of getting flushed out into your lymph system which then delivers it to your liver and kidneys to be removed from your body. And once the switch happens, the brain then sends fibroblasts into all the major primes which is a heavy duty messenger to make sure it’s still there period and the fibroblasts are like little explosions of protein and collagen and other substances into the major primes. Well imagine what an explosion looks like now imagine that inside a striated muscles, the fibroblasts usually go any manner of either outright perpendicular or just plain not in the directions of the striations in the muscles. Which again, make the muscles bulge. It looks awesome when you’re done, but it feels like you were in the worst bar fight ever. And for first time receivers of Vahva Kun it can take up to a month for your body to fully recover and your body aches the whole time and it can take several hours after just to get all the new knots out of the muscles and usually body builders, the first few to several days after- they can’t hardly move, they have all these huge bulging muscles that look incredibly strong but are jack shit for strength and that’s why it’s called Vahva Kun- strong when I’m weak. It means they look strong but they are in reality, very weak.” You explained.

“Vahva Kun was discovered by a prostitute, Jasmine Vahva, who was tired of being beat up by her clients and she found she could make a killing if she “massaged” them first using this technique, get them to pass out and steal them blind but then be gone before they could wake up and confront her. And she taught other sex workers this technique. But they only could ever do it to a client once and quickly word spread about the real “effects” of the massage and once the clients got wise to it it lost it’s “appeal.”, then the clients noticed that once they recovered, they physically looked amazing and so a few of them got into body building and then word spread and so you had the legitameate professionals going to Jasmine to learn this technique so that they could practice it on body builders which is a very lucrative discipline and her original friends who had been sex workers then got into the legitamate side of massage teaching Vahva Kun.” You revealed.

“So you fucked them over without dropping your panties an inch.” Taylor laughed.

“Yup, because those fuckers had the audacity to undercut Noah and put Noah and Sakura’s livelihood into jeopardy. A she wolf takes no prisoners when her den and pups are in danger. Even if she has to infiltrate another pack to do it.” You mused.

“Hot damn girl.” Taylor praised as she high fived you.

The next morning Noah came down the stairs to find his mother already there making breakfast.

“Good morning Mom.” Noah greeted sleepily as he shuffled over to the coffee pot before there was a knock and suddenly he was a million times more alert as he happily forgot all about the coffee to rush over to the door to open it.

“Good morning.” Noah greeted you happily.

“Good morning.” You greeted happily, sure that your dark circles under your eyes would scare the shit out of him but he didn’t seem to notice as he ushered you inside.

“Good morning Nana,” You greeted warmly.

“Good morning Zara.” Nana returned just as warmly.

“How do you like your eggs?” She asked.

“Over easy please if there’s toast.” You answered gratefully.

“Did Sakura take it easy on you guys yesterday?” You inquired hopefully.

“Yes, she didn’t wake up till 10, it was wonderful and you did such a fantastic job on the house, it was a really wonderful blessing.” Nana praised.

“Thank you, I did my best.” You nodded as you ducked your head. Appreciating the recognition.

“I know you did, and it’s really appreciated, you have no idea.” Noah added with a proud smile that was making wish you could ask him to try to show it but with his mother there, that wouldn’t have been appropriate.

“Go get ready Dear while I get breakfast finished.” Summer urged him and you saw the reluctant disappointment in his demeanor like a child who is told to go to bed when there was still company at the house and you could see he was about to argue but one look from her had his argument dying on his tongue before he begrudgingly pulled away and went back upstairs to hurry up and get ready as you got yourself a cup of coffee.

“So, I thought for sure that you would have slept in this morning from eating five men alive last night.” Nana noted once she heard the bathroom door shut upstairs and the shower turn on which made you choke on your coffee.

“Uh, how…?” You nervously asked as you tried to clean yourself up.

“The gods see all and only they could have revealed that to me. It takes a she-wolf with nerves of steel to do what you did, and to walk away without a scratch is a feat in itself. Don’t feel guilty about it, you ensured not just Noah and Sakura’s survival but the best chance for all of us to thrive too. But I need to tell you that you need to keep the she-wolf out today, embrace your Aura heritage, it won’t scare off Noah, it’ll surprise him but it won’t throw him off or intimidate him. Don’t lose your nerve or your courage. You’ll need it to make your mission complete. Use your bag and your magnificent mind and I’ll help you with your hair.” She advised you as she held your face in her aged but warm hands.

“Ok,” you agreed, feeling relieved yet validated and empowered before she kissed your forehead before you left just as Noah got out of the bathroom as you raced upstairs since you would need the bathroom’s larger bathroom counter to get ready and Noah looking like a god with just a towel around his waist was a delight.

“Everything ok?” Noah asked.

“Yeah, just had a really good talk with your mom, I need to finish getting ready though. Do you mind?” You asked as you gestured to the bathroom.

“Not at all, but we gotta get going in like an hour or so.” Noah answered, disappointed because here he thought he would have an hour or so with just staring at your beautiful face. Even without makeup you were gorgeous. You didn’t need makeup.

“Plenty of time.” You reassured him before Sakura woke up to the sound of your voice.

“Paradise?” She asked sleepily as she opened her door before she saw you and immediately went to you and hugged you tightly.

“Good morning Sweetheart, did you sleep good?” You asked her.

“The best, I had the coolest dreams!” She eagerly told you.

“Well I have to get ready for the day, but I need your bathroom up here to do it, you want to tell me all about them while I get ready?” You proposed.

“Yeah!” She agreed as she took your hand and led you into the bathroom before she shut the door, leaving Noah feeling a little jealous he couldn’t be in there too but he got dressed and let you have your time with Sakura as he went back downstairs.

“What did you talk to Para-I mean, Zara about?” Noah asked his mom curiously.

“I encouraged her to embrace all of herself with you, and not to be scared of showing you all of herself or fear it will intimidate you or put you off. Everyone always tries to put for their best faces and the best versions of themselves to people they like and are trying to impress.” Summer hinted with a scheming grin.

“And for that she had to put on makeup?” Noah questioned as he cast a look in the direction of the bathroom when he heard Sakura and you laughing.

“She’ll explain it to you better once she comes down. She has to show Sakura first and Sakura’s approval will give her heart and courage to show you and some reassurance that she has nothing to worry about will be all you need to give.” She insisted.

“But for now, eat, be patient.” She urged him as she handed him a plate of food before she continued to cook breakfast as Noah begrudgingly ate and drank his coffee as his knee bounced impatiently as his mother joined him at the table as Noah racked his brain trying to think of what it could possibly be.

“Stop, you’ll imagine it way worse than it is.” Nana lightly smacked his arm.

“Look, the only thing I can think of is she’s used to be a stripper or something like that.” Noah blurted before he got another smack, this one much harder than the first.

“I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, at this point it’s a bonus.” Noah conceded before he recoiled from the third smack, this one even harder than the last as he rubbed his arm.

“You’re going to feel like an ass once she comes down the stairs.” Summer chastised before right on cue you came down the stairs looking like a proper goddess. A heavy shall was wrapped around your shoulders and you were wearing gold and purple highlighter on your cheeks as your complexion was made to look much more amethyst purple instead of peacock teal it usually looked and your eyeshadow was a brilliant gold and purple and your jewelry was authentic priestess of Aura jewelry. He was dumbstruck by how magnificent you looked.

“May I introduce Zahnochka Volchitsa! A minor priestess of Aura!” Sakura proudly introduced you, her freshly brushed teeth gleaming as her fresh braids that you had put into her hair showed off her silken tresses.

“And what a stunning one at that.” Summer praised as she had you sit down to breakfast next to Noah as she got up and took your hairbrush from your hand and your special headband and beads from your hands.

“Wow,” Noah breathed. “So, what’s the special occasion?” Noah asked.

“Well, your mother wisely advised me to embrace my “she-wolf” and “Aura heritage” today. When I was 15, my older brother Gavin started courting his wife Natasha who we call Tasha, she’s Siberian and her mother Olga, is a high priestess to Aura and serves at the Sinai Temple in the Great Lakes, and the moment she met me, she adopted me and gave me a new name. The name she gave me was ‘Zahnochka Volchitsa’ Volchitsa is Siberian for ‘she wolf’ and Zahnochka means ‘she will rise again’. And she has insisted I was her new daughter and forbade her own sons from dating me because that would be ‘incest’ even though at the time her 13 year old son Nicoli aka- Nikki- had the biggest crush on me, but he’s married with kids and we’re friends so now so it worked out. But anyway, she taught me how to have teeth and claws and how to take no bull-er-crap from anyone and how to be a strong independent woman with all the spice and sass of a viper and if any man dared cross me or even take advantage of me in any way- how to eat him alive like a proper shewolf, how protect ‘my den and pups’ and how to turn other people’s stupidity into my own benefit and she taught me how to give blessings, read palms and tea leaves and all that. But it’s an alter ego for me, like how Beyonce has Sasha Fierce, I have Zahnochka Volchitsa. I thought if your clients saw how you were flying around a minor priestess of Aura, the goddess of gold, luck and riches, they’d be willing to do just about anything, including renewing contracts with a pilot they tried to undercut for the chance to get a blessing.” You hinted with nervous grin.

“You don’t have to…” Noah tried to argue even though he was incredibly touched and so impressed by it. This was ingenious. Although as much as he wanted a blessing, he also knew that priestesses could not bless family. And since he desperately wanted to be your family, he would be satisfied with your presence to be blessing enough.

“Yes she does,” Summer immediately countered. “And we deeply appreciate it and Sakura and I will pray for your success.” She insisted as she continued to fix your hair appropriately, braiding the headband into your hair and securing it so that you looked like a proper priestess with the traditional hair arrangement and no sooner had you ate than Noah got the first call from a client as you got ready by putting the shawl on to complete the look.

“Be good for Nana ok?” You urged Sakura before you left, giving her a big hug.

“Will do.” Sakura reassured you before you kissed her all over her face which made her giggle with glee before she did the same to you before you let go and hugged Nana goodbye, giving her a kiss on the cheek before you left.

“My new Mama is amazing.” Sakura fawned as she watched the two of you go from the window and get in Noah’s truck as she grinned to see her dad open your door for you like a proper gentleman.

“Yes she is. Now, come on, we got some prayers to give.” She urged her granddaughter.

Once in the plane, you settled into the copilot seat with your backpack securely between your legs.

“How much does all that weigh anyway?” Noah asked curiously as he eyed the gaudy gold jewelry as he got settled in himself.

“About a thousand pounds.” You laughed. “It’s all real and solid so it’s quite heavy.” You revealed.

“Could you do me a favor though?” You asked hopefully.

“Anything.” Noah immediately agreed.

“Could you wear this gold charm at least for today?” You proposed as you pulled the large gold charm on a masculine chain out of your velvet blessing bag that had previously held all the jewelry wrapped in the shawl and a tea set for a proper priestess tea ceremony.

“As long as you won’t give me a formal blessing with it,” Noah specified. “I know priestesses can’t formally bless family members but your presence is blessing enough for me.” He noted which melted your heart and made you want to kiss him. You were ready to offer him a proper place in your family. But perhaps he was referring to the way you were with Sakura and meant that endearment fairly innocently.

“That’s correct, but they can give gifts, if you wear this, your clients will assume I’ve already blessed you and will want a blessing of their own, a first link in the chain.” You proposed.

“Ok,” Noah agreed before you turned in your seat and put it over his neck and being so close, you could smell the soap he used in his shower and his aftershave and just him in general and your brain got hazy with lust. But you feared it would be inappropriate and settled for simply kissing his forehead and offering him an adoring smile which he mirrored as he glanced from your eyes to your lips before a message came on his receiver which pulled his attention away.

“Yeah,” Noah answered.

“Hey could you swing by Corporal? I have a load for you this morning.” One of his clients radioed in.

“Sure thing, see you soon.” Noah agreed before he hung up.

“It’s working already,” Noah laughed. “That guy hasn’t had me fly a load for him all year, must be a big one.” Noah revealed.

“Then let’s do his first.” You suggested.

“Ok,” Noah nodded before he turned the plane on and began to taxi it out of the hanger and towards the runway before taking off and you bit your bottom lip to keep yourself from squealing. Flying was so fun!

Once up in the air you put on your blood red lipstick with gold glitter gloss over it as you had Noah tell you about this particular client. Cranky old man type.

Perfect.

He landed the plane several long moments later and once taxied over to the loading area, you knew it was show time as you unbuckled your seatbelt and left the plane and grinned when an older gentleman practically came rushing up to you.

“Noah! Why didn’t you tell me you were flying around a priestess of Aura today?” Mick chastised Noah.

“Because most people are intimidated by priestesses. And since Noah has already lost so much already, I couldn’t chance him losing anymore, especially upon my account.” You easily answered for him.

“Of course,” Mick ducked his head as his cheeks blushed.

“This is Zara Zahnochka Volchitsa Kingsley. This is Mick Mullins.” Noah introduced.

“Pleasure to meet you.” You extended your hand and smiled serenely when he kissed it and pressed his forehead to your knuckles as he bowed respectfully.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He greeted back.

“Would you have time to take tea with me?” You asked Mick hopefully.

“Of course, of course, right this way.” He ushered you to the control tower where there was a lounge with a coffee maker and an electric tea kettle which he quickly dumped bottled water into it to boil before he has you sit in his chair, in his office since it’s one of the most comfortable chairs in the place as you pull out your tea set and your trio of teas, each tin a work of art before you laid them out before him and ceremoniously took the top off of each one and sniffed each one before you offered for him to do the same before he sniffed each one.

“Which one do you prefer?” You asked as he looked between them.

“This one.” He specified as you nodded and smiled serenely at his choice before the kettle beeped and he immediately got up like a shot to retrieve it and brought it back just as you finished scooping the tea into the little teapot before he handed you the kettle before you poured in the right amount of water.

“So, Mr. Mullins.”

“Please call me Mick - Priestess.” He urged you.

“Thank you for having tea with me. And thank you many times over for doing business with Noah. That man has suffered so much loss recently. That loss has touched me very deeply. And to hear how his regular clients have taken their business elsewhere has disturbed me greatly and they will only reap disaster and misfortune for doing so, the gods told me through the leaves under no uncertain terms. Grabbing selfish hands today make it impossible to accept blessings, even if the gods are more than ready and willing to give an overabundance of them. Someone with closed fists cannot be handed anything. Even one closed fist can impede the other open one, since they cancel each other out. Even when what the gods will to give them is greater than what they already have in their hands. It doesn’t matter what their hands are physically if mentally, emotionally, figuratively and especially spiritually, since all of those are interwoven- if their figurative hands are closed, there is no blessing for them. Only a malediction. If that pattern persists, I feel I must intervene further, as I have contacts at the military bases and my more financially blessed clients may have a need for a private pilot for their jets and things and they will be more than happy to make sure Noah is paid handsomely, enough to make a move there worth his while many times over and they will be immeasurably blessed for doing so in Noah’s sake.” You proposed as you as you set up your tea ceremony as you glanced up at Mick who looked particularly embarrassed like you just pulled his pants down and exposed him.

“But I don’t feel that will happen to you, because you are being generous and using the deserving and there is no one more deserving than Noah and you will be blessed for it. I can tell, it is written in the lines on your face and on the veins on the back of your hands.” You reassured him which had light returning to his eyes and a smile spread on his face before you poured the tea.

“Well then let me reassure you that I would be more than happy to help Noah in any way I can.” Mick swore.

“Please do not use pretty words in the face of a priestess just to gain momentary favor, do not say anything unless you mean the words with all truth and that you have cemented plans and will put those words into action.” You gently warned with a look of sorrow.

“No I swear on my life and the lives of my family, what I say is in all truth and I will absolutely follow through, I will use no one but Noah for the rest of the season and for every season after this till the end of my days and I will pay him very well for it, so that he and his family may be kept in safety and security.” Mick swore solemnly.

“Your words please me and the gods, may you feel peace and happiness and enjoy nothing but success with the fulfillment of this vow. May I give you a gift?” You proposed.

“I will accept anything you wish to give me.” Mick answered earnestly.

“I will read the tea leaves for you and wish to give you a charm.” You proposed.

“I would be honored.” He agreed before you pulled out the reading plate and swished the remaining tea in the pot around before you poured the remains onto the center of the plate and watched as the tea leaves flowed out into the plate as the both of you watched to see where the tea leaves fell on the plate before you used your extensive training to read them to him. Usually people paid quite a bit of money to have this done by Olga and people used the information as if it was doctrinal truth, above questioning or reproach and Mick seemed perfectly pleased and excited about what the tea leaves told on the plate.

No sooner had you finished before both of your phones chimed, messages that the plane was already filled with the shipment.

You took a few moments to rinse your plate off in the sink after both Mick and yourself took a picture of it and as you rinsing it, Mick was making sure to cut Noah’s check. Mick usually paid half upon arrival and loading and then the other half upon successful delivery. This time Mick would be doubling both payments and made a note to always do this in the future as he fingered the gold charm you had given him that he immediately put onto a gold chain around his neck before his own phone went off, suddenly he was getting payments and offers from new vendors as he felt elated as he quickly prayed for forgiveness for slighting Noah in the past by undercutting him before he rejoined you as you finished packing up everything so he could walk you back and hand his payment to Noah.

“Oh and Mick, I should warn you. If you ever break your vow, the charm will tarnish and you will lose what you gained and even would have gained will immediately go to your competition. And once it’s lost, it can not be regained.” You warmed him solemnly.

“Wouldn’t dream of it Priestess.” Mick reassured you as he walked you back over to the plane.

“May safety, security and blessings be with you Priestess,” Mick offered you graciously.

“And with you.” You answered before you nodded and turned to get back on the plane, giving Noah a meaningful look with a pleased smile before Mick happily handed over the folded check to Noah and an apology for not using him sooner but quickly set up a deal to use him at least every week and a reassurance that if Noah ever needed anything at all, to let Mick know.

“Of course, well, uh, I better get going, you have my number, just let me know what you need.” Noah returned before he got back into the plane and got ready to go before he peeked at the check before he put it into his payment bag.

“Well that went well, I would say he’s your new model client.” You smiled proudly.

“How?” Noah asked curiously.

“Manta Olga charges anywhere from 3 to ten thousand dollars for the kind of tea ceremony I just had with him and to get a tea reading with her is booked up anywhere from three to 9 months in advance because she is the high priestess at her temple. Minor priestesses and newbies like me usually make a tiny fraction of that. And honestly if all I’m out is a few scoops of my favorite tea, it’s worth it to me- to help ensure that you and Sakura especially will be ok and taken care of, long after I leave and can’t ensure it with my own hands.” You confessed as you fiddled with the fringe of your shawl because you suddenly didn’t have the strength to look at him.

Meanwhile the words were trying to eat their way out of Noah’s mouth to assure you and reassure you that you would be more than welcome to try. That he would follow you to the ends of the earth to give you as many chances as you wanted and needed to try. But then his radio went nuts trying to receive multiple messages all at once. All of these clients begging for his help to fly loads as you prepared yourself to repeat this process over and over and over today, as many times as it would take to make sure that Noah would be the most popular and sought after pilot the Frozen Tundra ever saw and prayed that your endeavors would bring Noah untold and unimaginable success.

Word spread quickly that a ‘priestess of Aura’ was with Noah and that she was giving free tea readings in exchange for business with Noah and Noah was getting money hand over fist as his payment envelope was close to bursting again, much like your bladder half the time because this tea, while beautiful and delicious, ran through you but you were getting better with every reading, like riding a bike and it was all coming back to you with ease. Like this is what you did all day every day and you had a lot of fun too and Noah made three loops around the state and flew from the morning till well into the night and every time you took tea with all these clients, they were more than happy to feed you a snack too. Mostly prepared by their wives to feed you and Noah and Noah counted himself lucky enough to sit in on a few of them while he ate lunch and dinner and gratefully drank some tea with you, enjoying the tea quite a bit.

On the final flight home, you finally got to take off the jewelry, your ears practically tears of joy that they weren’t weighed down anymore as your chest was much lighter without the necklace on it as you gradually took the beads and headbands out of your hair before you stretched your neck before you put it all away back into the blessing bag.

“There you are.” Noah murmured appreciatively, happy to see Zahnochka receed and his Zara come back to the forefront which made you giggle.

“Yup, here I am.” You answered before you got a makeup cloth out of your backpack and wiped off all the makeup and false lashes which were itching your eyelids.

“Did you really have to put all that makeup on?” Noah asked as he saw a ton of purple come off.

“Most priestesses of Aura are of Siberian and Eastern Europa descent where the indigo violet orcs and dark elves which are just about the same color-originated from. The closer I look physically to them, the more people believe my authenticity as one. My first tea reading didn’t go well because I didn’t look purple enough and the client thought they weren’t getting an authentic reading. Thanks to the wonders of makeup, once I was able to get my complexion purple enough, people stopped questioning my authenticity despite Olga vouching for me. Even now I’m listed under the priestesses of Aura website as a chastnyy, or private priestess. Which means I don’t “officially” serve at any one temple even though I am in the same order that Olga is in. It just makes it eaiser for me. Same thing with the accent, it just helps me play the part. It doesn’t make it any less real but there are theatrics that come with it.” You explained.

“Well maybe I’m weird but I’d rather have Zara with me in this cockpit than Zahnochka any day. She’s cool and all but I just like you better.” Noah confessed.

“Awww, thank you. Zahnochka is...I’ll be honest, she’s exhausting. She’s fun but tiresome after a while. But thank you for not getting annoyed or intimaded by her.” You confessed.

“Nope, not at all. So what are you doing tomorrow?” Noah asked.

“I don’t have any plans.” You answered.

“Well I actually ran all the loads today that I was supposed to run tomorrow. So technically I have tomorrow off and I would really like to take you fishing if you’d be up for it.” Noah offered, remembering his mother’s advice.

“YES!” You immediately agreed with a bright, nearly blinding smile. “I would love to.” You answered.

“We could even take Sakura too, I think with your encouragement, she might get over her squamishness with worms.” He added and grinned when your whole being practically lit up at the very idea.

“Perfect.” You beamed, feeling super excited for tomorrow.

#Jewel of the north #Jewel Of The North Part 4 #modern orcs #modern orc love story #ice orcs #jewel orcs #siberian amythyst orcs #so many #Noah and Zara #my new otp #orc boyfriend #monster boyfriend #orc reader insert #male monster female reader #modern fantasy fic #I would prefer this reality to my own ngl

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emilialuciasantos · 3 years

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Is This a Date? (Part 1) || Emilia x Lola

Where: Santa Monica, CA

When: February 25, 2021

Featuring: Lola Siciliani (dialogue provided by Frenchie @lola-siciliani), Blaine Valentine, Ace Wong

Triggers: Mention of hospitalization, mental health (anxiety, body image issues), mention of abortion, mention of bullying

Emilia pulled up to Lola's apartment and texted her that she was outside. She needed to see Lola after the day she had in the ICU. As she waited, she answered a few OnlyFans DMs. People really wanted her attention tonight. She had no idea why though. It was only Thursday. She usually only posted new content on the weekends. The last message she had to send was to Lollypop12, a kind mutual who she had been chatting with a lot. Lollypop12 reminded her of Lola so much, but of course she wouldn't ask Lola if she had an account. The last thing Emilia wanted to do was make her uncomfortable. Before she could finish writing the message, she spotted Lola walking up to the car.

Lola was immersed into her book when she received a text message. For a moment, she had quickly glanced, thinking it was AJ, but when it buzzed again, her eyes lit up seeing that it was Emilia. She went to double check to see if she received any word from lucylovexox, but she was probably busy...there was something that seemed familiar about her, but she was just glad that she had made a friend. Slamming her book shut, she ran to her mirror to make sure her hair wasn't too out of place and scurried out the door to meet up with Emilia. She might've nearly tripped down the stairs on her way out, but luckily, it didn't appear like Emilia noticed as she waved at her approaching the car. "Hey!"

Emilia unlocked the door for her, asking, "Hey! How's your day going?" She had a rough day, but seeing Lola made her day almost instantly better. "I just gotta answer this text real quick, then we can go get dinner." The text was actually the OnlyFans DM she was writing, but she wasn't going to admit that out loud. Word spread fast in their city, and her career would be ruined before it even began. She typed out "Goddamn, you are killing it! 🥵🥵🥵" and hit send before shoving her phone into her jacket pocket.

Lola hopped into the car and grinned, "Besides nearly falling asleep in chemistry class, it's going pretty damn great, what about you?" She asked curiously. Just like that, Lola's energy practically zapped her back to life and she wasn't feeling so sluggish anymore. "Oh, no worries, take your time," Lola pointed out with a smile as she nodded her head along to the radio, not saying anything to make sure Emilia was focused on the text. That was until her phone made the ding sound and she went to check to see who it was. AJ typically had the worst timing until she saw none other than lucylovexox and her heart dropped. There was no way.

“Better now. I was put in the ICU today for clinicals... it was rough.” The ICU was never a pleasant place to be. It didn’t help that she knew one of her patients. She didn’t know him well, but he was related to Blaine and had done her and her mother’s tattoos. She was ready to start the car, but then heard the ding. She froze like a deer in headlights. This had to be a coincidence.

“That, does not sound fun. I’m so sorry,” Lola frowned. “I’ll buy you an appetizer for your troubles tonight?” She offered with a smile. She couldn’t imagine how hard it was for Emilia between navigating the ICU for clinicals and still managing to make her way to see her...but Lola was grateful and she’d try to repay her as best as she could. Of course right now she wanted to quickly rebound and say, “Oh it’s probably my brother,” She chuckled to lighten the mood. As she checked her phone she could feel the heat rising to her cheeks and her ears as she responded, “That one was specifically for you 🥰🥰🥰” And all she could do now was hold her breath, and hope, the phone next to her wasn’t going to buzz.

“Aww, you’re too sweet. You don’t have to do that though.” She couldn’t get over how nice Lola was to her. Sure, her friends were nice to her, but Lola went above and beyond compared to most of them. She started up the car then felt her phone vibrate. One buzz, followed by a double buzz. One of those was definitely a text from Blaine, who had been bothering her all day about his maternal family. The other, she wasn’t sure about, but was scared to find out. She bit the bullet and looked. A text and an OnlyFans notification. She had to turn off notifications for OF one of these days. “Sorry, Blaine’s been texting me all day about family stuff.” That wasn’t a lie, but not the whole truth either. “I’ll answer him back later. You can change the station or put your own music on the aux if you want.”

“Yup, I do. It’s law. Bad days require amazing appetizers,” Lola grinned brightly at Emilia. It was at that moment she could hear her siblings in her head saying ‘welcome to the club’ and ‘it’s about goddamn time’ about her feeling her own feelings again. There was just something about Emilia that just made everything feel okay again. However, the buzz brought her mind back down to earth and that, got her heart racing, but then, it was followed by another buzz. Okay, it wasn’t, Emilia. Even though lucylovexox seemed so familiar and comfortable to talk to, there was no way it was Emilia. “Oh, is everything okay?” She asked curiously. Even though she and Blaine had a stand-off last time, she knew Emilia cared about her step-brother, and if she was worried, Lola would be worried too. “Don’t worry about it,” she chuckled. “I love this song actually. It’s been stuck in my head since I first heard it, actually.”

“Oh is it now?” she asked, a small smirk forming on her face. However, thinking about her day and the possibility of her alter ego being discovered brought her back to reality. She sighed before answering, “Don’t go spreading this around, but one of Blaine’s maternal cousins went into the hospital last night. Overdose. He’s in the ICU, and since I happened to be in the ICU today, it became my job to update them all on his condition on top of, you know, working. And now Blaine’s just complaining about how his relatives are irritating him.” With the car still in park, she opened up her phone to look at the notifications. She sent Blaine a quick “you’ll be aight” text, then went back to the DMs. Lollypop12, of course, came up first, followed by a man called GregT143. Greg was obsessed with her, or rather, with Lucy. She didn’t have the mental energy to answer either though, so she exited the app, put her phone in the cup holder, and started to drive.

"It is, I said so," She wiggled her eyebrows at the green-eyed girl. Lola had to push the thought from her head that Emilia was potentially lucylovexox--mostly because they became pretty acquainted with each other and she'd probably wouldn't know how to handle herself without being a flustered mess. At Emilia's confession, she did something she hardly ever did with people, she put a careful reassuring hand on Emilia's shoulder. "Don't worry, it'll be between us. I'm sorry you have to deal with all of that, though. I can't even imagine how much of a headache that must be. I'm here for you though. If you want to like...vent and stuff," She offered with a lop-sided smile. Once she realized what she did she carefully inched her hand away back to her lap and took a breath. "So, um, this is...completely random, but earlier today my Nonna gave me a play by play of my old neighbors back home fighting. They fight every Thursday over a different topic each and every time and this week, they were screaming in the street about laundry."

Why was Lola so nice? Why did her hand on her shoulder make her heart flutter? Why did someone as cool and confident as Lola even give her the time of day? All of these thoughts, the thumping beat of Rihanna’s “Where Have You Been,” and the fact that her phone buzzed five times in a row (all messages from Greg, of course) made it hard for Emilia to focus on the road. As Lola recalled the story her Nonna told her, Emilia abruptly pulled over and put the car in park. After turning the volume on the radio down to zero, she sat in silence for a moment, forehead pressed against the steering wheel, before apologizing. “I’m sorry... sorry... I just, I got overwhelmed. Sorry.” She felt like she was ruining the evening before it even began.

As Lola wrapped up the story with a, "Apparently you can't put orange with white because everything turns peach--" She kept hearing the buzzes coming from the cup holder and as much as she tried to not look, her eyes quickly glanced and saw the OF notifications and her heart fell straight down into her stomach as her eyes quickly went back to Emilia's as the car was suddenly pulled over. "Hey, hey," Lola unbuckled her seatbelt to scoot closer to Emilia, her hand lightly going over to her head, to turn the green eyed girl towards her. "Em, it's okay. I'm here."

“There’s too... much... happening!” she yelled, bursting into tears. Emilia was overwhelmed. She didn’t know why this was all hitting her now, but it was, and it was hitting her like a semi truck. She yanked her seatbelt off and buried her face into Lola’s shoulder. The fact that she was being so soft and comforting only made Emilia bawl harder. Then her phone buzzed again. This time it was a double buzz, a text message. The text was from Blaine and it said, “I know. I’m sorry everyone was bothering you. Thank you for your help today. Babciu and Kieran really appreciated it.” She didn’t want to read any of her messages at the moment, so she looked up to the blue-eyed girl and asked, “Could you please put my phone on airplane mode? The passcode is 0506.” 0506. May 6th, her mother’s birthday.

If there was one thing that Lola couldn't handle, it was emotion, but somehow, somewhere in the back of her head, she knew exactly what to do as she pulled Emilia into a tight hug, and rubbed her back in a soothing circle. "Just breathe, Emilia," She whispered softly. She couldn't imagine what was going through Emilia's head, being completely overwhelmed and overloaded, like the weight of the world was on her shoulders. All Lola could do was hold her tight to keep her together, to let her know she was here to hold her up. At Emilia's request, she nodded silently and typed in the passcode, ignoring all the texts and notifications as the phone was put into airplane mode. She set the phone back into the cup holder, and carefully went to cup Emilia's face, her thumbs wiping her tears. "Let's just take a moment for you to be in silence, that way you're not surrounded by a major sensory overload, okay?" She said, her voice was barely above a whisper. "I got you. I'm not going anywhere. Just take a moment."

A wave of relief washed over her once her phone was turned off. No more insane buzzing, no more horny incels or annoying brothers. It was just Emilia, Lola, and the low rumble of Emilia’s car engine. “Thanks... and sorry again. Can you repeat what you said before about your Nonna and the laundry? I didn’t fully understand you.”

Seeing Emilia pull herself back together was strength, in Lola's opinion. She was definitely having a day and she'd do her best to make it just a little better, if all else failed. "No need to apologize, I get it," She reassured the other brunette with a reassuring grin. "Oh, um," She chuckled awkwardly. "My Nonna likes to give me a play by play on my neighbors arguing every week and this week it was about laundry, and why you shouldn't put anything orange into a pile of whites."

Emilia sniffled, using her jacket sleeve to wipe her eyes. “Still. You have your own stuff to worry about. You don’t need my stuff too.” She often felt bad about bothering people with her emotional problems, even when she was confiding in someone she wholeheartedly trusted. She didn’t want to come off as whiny or annoying. “Huh, no orange and white. I’ve never had an issue with mixing whites and colors, but I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

"Sometimes we can't handle everything on our own, Em," Lola pointed out. "It's okay to lean on someone you can trust. I don't mind at all," She reassured her with a grin. All she wanted to do was pull Emilia into a hug again, but she definitely didn't want to go overboard...especially because she enjoyed hugging her. "Neither have I," She laughed lightly. "Honestly, I think they just have detergent that makes their clothes bleed, but I didn't tell Nonna that because those neighbors were like a telenovela just unraveling every week."

“Thanks again,” she said softly, leaning her head back on Lola’s shoulder. She wanted, no needed, another hug. It made her feel safe. Lola made her feel safe, amongst other things. “Yeah, it does sound like they have bad detergent. If you want to hear about a real-life telenovela, you should hear about my Uncle Luis’ love life.”

"Any time," Lola grinned. When Emilia's head went to Lola's shoulder, she couldn't resist wrapping her arms around her once more, just completely taking in the moment. She wanted to keep her safe, as much as she hated admitting to herself that she felt strongly for Emilia. "They really do. I'm gonna guess it's like AJAX or something?" She chuckled. "Oooh, you gotta tell me. How bad as it," She asked curiously. Then, she did something she didn't think she'd ever do: she carefully brushed a random piece of hair behind Emilia's ear.

Emilia closed her eyes, sighing softly. She hadn’t fully calmed down yet, but she was starting to. “Oh, it’s really bad. I should probably start by saying that he’s awful and no one in the family likes him. So he dated this woman when I was about ten or eleven, cheated on her with her twin sister, and got both of them pregnant.” She felt her cheeks blush when Lola touched her hair. She hated how much of a blusher she was, especially around her. She also hated how much she wanted to make out.

Lola hoped that Emilia was starting to feel better and was letting the weight lift off her shoulders, even if it was for a bit. "We all have a relative like that in our family, right?" She smirked until her eyes widened at the story. Now that, was pretty damn messy. "Wow...um...huh," She chuckled, shaking her head. "Okay, I just have one question: did they wind up having twins on their own too or...I'm just mildly curious on the outcome of all that, don't mind me," She waved off casually. She noticed Emilia's blush right off the bat. Frankly, it reminded her of the first day she met, except this time...she was fighting the urge of not instantly moving in to kiss her.

“Oh, well, one didn’t end up having any babies, and the other gave hers up for adoption. Just a single birth. I hope that kid’s doing alright.” She didn’t have any more information on that situation, but she did know that Luis had at least four other kids he wasn’t paying child support for. After finishing her story, she sat up and put her seatbelt back on. Her brain was still rebooting from the panic attack, but if she didn’t start driving now, she feared she might do something she’d regret. “Okay, I think I’m okay to drive now. You mind if I keep the radio off though?”

"Woo...I don't blame either of their decisions, honestly. I can't imagine how heartbreaking and rough that must've been. Definitely telenovela status," Lola nodded with a bewildered look for a moment. When Emilia sat back up, Lola went to grab her seatbelt to put it back on again. At least now things were back to normal...well, her mind was still reeling from all that had happened and the fact she had just done the thing and had to restrain herself. "Awesome! I'm ready!" She grinned and then followed up with, "Not at all, we can talk or drive in silence, whichever's more comfortable for you."

“Yeah, that was a particularly bad Luis story. I probably shouldn’t have known about that as a child, but I did.” It was because she and her mom always lived in tiny apartments and Emilia often eavesdropped on telephone conversations between her mom and Abuela. “I’m okay with talking.” As she drove, she didn’t do much of the talking. She preferred listening to what Lola had to say.

"You know I feel like when we have women in our family that love spilling tea, we're bound to know the wrong thing at a young age, you know?" Lola chuckled. "I definitely get it. The things my mom and Nonna, and Aunt Connie would talk about would be wild," She added on with a silly grin. "Okay, we can do that," She nodded. "Well, if you want to talk about family drama, well the current family drama is that my older sister hates my brother's girlfriend because she stands in solidarity with her best friend...who slept with my brother's girlfriend's ex-boyfriend...who also just so happens to be my brother's best friend."

“No one really told me stuff, I was just a nosy kid,” she explained, chuckling. “But now that I’m an adult, I get included in the conversation. Abuela looooves talking shit over the phone.” Emilia’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head when Lola talked about her family drama, not only because of how obscure this story was, but also because she remembered this story. “Shit, I think I heard about that on Gossip God!”

”That’s the best part. The eavesdropping. Did you ever hold the cup to your ear while your mom was in the other room??” She asked curiously. “YES!!!! Isn’t it great. Especially cause they think you won’t say anything. You become the new bearer of secrets,” She giggled. At Emilia’s expression, Lola laughed and nodded. “Because it was broadcasted on Gossip God. My brother and my sister’s best friend were wrapped up in alll of that. I mean, as much as Ivy wants me to hate Lydia, I’m curious about her and personally I just want to see her point of view and then determine from there. My mom agrees.”

"I never had to. Thin walls plus loud mom equaled perfect eavesdropping opportunities. She always gets mad at me when I tell her that she's loud, but then will yell at me to come downstairs for dinner at a volume loud enough to be heard down the block." She laughed at her own joke. Paula, whether she admitted or not, was a loud-mouth. "I'm a pretty good bearer of secrets, if I do say so myself. Except I do tell my mom most things. Like, I'd say about 90% of stuff." Of course she had her own secrets that she kept from her mom, but not too many. Just those involving sex work. "Honestly, I think you should get to know her on your own. Maybe it's one big misunderstanding. You won't know unless you do your own investigation. It reminds me of a law quote Blaine told me. 'There are three sides to every story: the plaintiff's side, the defendant's side, and the truth.'"

Lola giggled at Emilia's description of her mom. In fact, she could relate. Elena Siciliani was definitely one of those moms. "Ugh, lucky you...although I can relate with the loud-mouthed mom, until it came down to sharing gossip. I think our moms might get along honestly. Loud moms always flock together and you can hear them coming miles away," She shook her head as she explained through laughter. "That makes two of us then, huh? Although, let's be real, sometimes the secrets are just burning you have no choice but to tell your mom, y'know? Then they totally understand." It was often something that Lola did, often, although sometimes if it was too wild, she'd have to tell Ivy. "I think so too," She nodded in agreement and then tilted her head at Blaine's law quote. "That's...actually really insightful. I'll definitely have to keep that quote in my pocket. Thanks for that, Em."

“You think so?” Emilia thought her mom needed more mom friends. After Emilia fell out with her childhood best friend, Paula lost a lot of her mom friends. While she got along with Ace’s mom, they came from two totally different worlds and didn’t have a lot in common. “Oh yeah, totally. We bicker sometimes, but at the end of the day, she’s my best friend.” If there was one person Emilia could rely on no matter what, it was her mother. She was starting to get to that level of trust with her step family, but wasn’t quite there yet. “Oh no problem,” she said as she pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot.

"Definitely! My mom's loud and friendly to anyone she meets. Anyone. It's a pain because she always gets stopped at supermarkets because she's so extroverted and I'll be like 'ma...we gotta go'. Every time," She reassured Emilia. Hopefully their moms could be friends somewhere down the road...especially with how much Lola's been rattling her head off to the woman back home. "I love that for you both," She said with a bright smile. Lola was blessed to have not just her mother, but her older siblings too. Throughout the bickering, the fighting, she had them. So, she could relate to just Emilia and her mom, cause sometimes, that's all you ever needed. "So," She clapped her hands quietly, but excitedly, "I am so hype to try out this spot."

“That happens to my step-dad too. He just knows everyone!” Her mom was extroverted, but not as much as George. Emilia didn’t mind as much, but Blaine absolutely hated it. It’s why Emilia helped out with groceries more than he did. “Well I’d love to meet your mom one of these days, and I’m sure my mom would too.” She wondered how much Lola’s mom knew about her. Paula had heard quite a bit about Lola, and Gossip God filled in the rest of the blanks for her. She hated how accurate that blog was. She pulled into a spot, put the car in park, and turned the car off. “My personal favorite are the chicken tacos. I hear the fish tacos are good too, but I’ve never had them. I can try them, but only once.”

"Isn't it so daunting?! Like they get stopped literally everywhere!" Lola laughed at the thought of it. Often times, she'd joke that her mom was like the mayor or the president. Just always shaking hands and having very long conversations. "Definitely! I think she's coming down for March Madness or spring break, I gotta double check with her first, but I'll definitely let you know when he's in town," She reassured her with a smile. "Oooh, chicken tacos sound amazing right now. Especially with the green salsa," She sighed at the mention of the fish taco, she thought about it for a second. I can try them, but only once. "Wait a sec," She shook her head with a chuckle. "Are you allergic to fish?"

“Right? Sometimes I feel like my mom married the freaking Governor!” She laughed about it, but George could go into politics if he wanted to, and he’d probably be very good at it. Emilia’s eyes widened as she realized that she never told Lola about her allergy. “Crustacean shellfish,” she elaborated. “I never really had shellfish growing up because we couldn’t afford it. I tried shrimp and stuff a few times, but I didn’t realize I was having an allergic reaction and just thought it tasted bad. I didn’t actually know I was allergic until I graduated high school and tried lobster for the first time at my high school graduation dinner.” Worst dinner party ever.

"Exactly! It's like at this point, just run for office! Between your step-dad and my mom, they'd win the presidency/vice presidency for sure," Lola laughed at the thought of it for a moment. "Oh...that sounds incredibly terrifying and horrible," She shook her head in shock. "Rest assured, I'm not really a big fan of shellfish, like at all, my family doesn't really eat it cause ma's allergic, so, you won't die at Sunday dinner," She teased, and realized what she just implied...and then frankly she didn't care because she liked Emilia. "And yes, you're invited to Sunday dinner."

“Now that would be a sight to see.” Emilia wasn’t sure if she would ever want George to run for office, as he was, unfortunately, a libertarian. “Yeah, not fun times, which is why I generally avoid mixed seafood platters and fried foods at restaurants. Did you know that restaurants tend to fry everything in the same oil?” She didn’t know that until she was an adult. “I mean, if you did want to, I wouldn’t stop you, so long as you don’t kiss me on the mouth after.” Emilia realized after she spoke what she was implying, and once again, her face was red. “Uh... anyways, let’s go eat!”

"It really would huh?" Lola grinned, scrunching her nose up cutely at Emilia. "I don't blame you at all, that sounds terrify--wait what?" Her eyes widened in shock. This was the first time she had ever heard about food being fried in the same oil. "I--wow--that's--huh," She was pretty much speechless for a moment about the food until her ears perked up at Emilia's next statement. "Let's be real, if I were to kiss you on the mouth, I definitely wouldn't eat fried food or seafood. Maybe something sweet like, candy or fruit," She pointed out with a smirk. She was definitely being blunt now. "I mean, um, yeah, definitely, let's go!" She nodded in agreement, biting her bottom lip nervously, hoping to the high heavens that she didn't blow it.

“Mhm.” Emilia smiled at Lola’s cute little scrunched-nose expression. She wanted to take a picture and keep it forever, but didn’t do that because she knew that would be a weird thing to do. “Yeah. When you have a lot of food to make, it’s just easier to fry everything together. Not all places do it, but a lot of big places do, like diners and chain restaurants.” Emilia’s heart skipped a beat when Lola talked about kissing her. And biting her lip after? Was Lola trying to kill her? Her heart was pushing her to make a move before it was too late, so she did. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against the other girl’s. As soon as she did, however, her brain screamed at her to stop. ‘What the hell are you doing? Why would you do that? She doesn’t actually like you. Stop now! STOP NOW!!’ She listened to her brain, retreated, and apologized. “I-I’m sorry... I-I don’t know what came over me...”

Lola couldn't help but smile at Emilia's smile. She really did have the prettiest smile, and sure, it might make her a simp but she would go through hell and high water to make sure that girl smiled. God, she was hopeless. "That sounds so gross. That cross contamination sounds so deadly I just...ew. I can't," She made a sour face and shook her head for a moment. When her gaze met Emilia's, she could feel her own blush coming on starting from her cheeks and ending at her ears. At this point she just wanted to hide her face within her shirt, maybe behind her jean jacket if she could, but, suddenly, Emilia's lips were on her lips, and they were so soft but before she could even reciprocate it back, the other girl pulled back. And Lola, was bewildered. "No don't!" She quickly blurted out. "I um," She put her hand to her own lips and smiled a little, "Can we...do that again?"

Oh God, she actually did that. The brunette’s brain was moving a hundred miles per second. ‘That was a terrible idea. She doesn’t realize how much of a broken mess you are. No one wants to be with a broken mess.’ Once more, Emilia felt the need to apologize. “Sorry. It’s just... the things you were saying and way you were looking at me made me think maybe— wait did you just ask if we could do that again?”

Lola’s mind was running a mile a minute. Mostly it was an internal scream that Emilia had just kissed her. One part of her told her no, we’re not going back down this route again! but the other part of her...the other part of her was much louder and much softer. That part of her would never get tired of kissing Emilia. Her brow furrowed at Emilia’s apology, her assumptions were right, Lola was indeed flirting with the beautiful green eyed girl. “You don’t need to apologize,” She giggled softly. “And yeah, I did. I liked it,” she bit her lip nervously and then said, “I’ve been flirting this whole time, because I like the way your cheeks get all rosy and your smile gets all bashful. I think you’re really pretty—no—drop-dead gorgeous. And I wouldn’t mind kissing you all the time.”

You don't need to apologize. She repeated that to herself in her brain. You don't need to apologize. She heard it in her therapist's voice. Her therapist was constantly telling her that she didn't need to apologize to everyone for everything, that the feelings she felt were normal and valid. Maybe her therapist had a point. Hearing Lola say that she enjoyed the kiss and that she had been flirting with her brought a smile to Emilia's face, but part of her still didn't believe Lola. Emilia's mind was constantly in flux between 'you're awful and ugly and nobody will love you' and 'you're hot shit, but people will only ever love you for your body.' Right now she was stuck on the former. "Are you sure?" she asked, softly.

Lola could tell the situation was intensifying between them two, so carefully, she reached out to put a hand on Emilia's cheek to reassure her. She had to admit, she was a sucker for her, despite her own past heartache, but she had a glimmer of hope. Maybe she wouldn't be hidden this time, maybe she wouldn't have to hold her hand under the table. Maybe, just maybe, she could be out in the open with Emilia. She hoped so, at least. Carefully she leaned in closer and nodded, "I'm more than sure," She smiled. "I like you, Emilia."

She leaned into Lola’s touch, melting like a puddle in her hand. Why someone as cool as Lola liked someone like Emilia was beyond her comprehension. But being close to her like this felt nice, and she wanted to get even closer, physically and emotionally. “I like you too... So does that make this a date?”

It was official, Lola was indeed a simp and her siblings would give her the utmost shit about it...and she didn’t care. Emilia was the sweetest person she had come across, someone who could pull a smile from her constant rbf, she was someone who reminded her what it was like to feel a heartbeat. Her smile grew at Emilia’s confession and all she wanted to do was kiss her right then and there, but she decided to just lean in, and let her nose touch the other girl’s as she whispered, “It can be, if you want it to.”

“In that case, it’s a date... We should probably get this food before all the seats fill up.” As much as she wanted to stay here and enjoy this moment, she was starving. “Or I guess we could get it to go, if worse comes to worst.” As she sat up, she caught a glimpse of herself in the rear view mirror and realized how disheveled she looked. “Oh God, I hope you weren’t going to really let me go into the restaurant looking like this,” she said, reaching back to grab her purse. She had cried about half of her makeup off while panicking and wasn’t going to go out in public without fixing it. “Could you go in and grab us a table?”

“Great! It’s a date!” Lola echoed with a grin. “And um yeah because the last thing I had today was left over lasagna...for lunch,” she emphasized with a groan. She was definitely starving. “Let’s see if there are tables first and then if push comes to shove then we can get it to go and eat it at my place?” She offered with a smile. At Emilia’s comment, Lola shook her head with a chuckle, “Of course not, I would’ve definitely stopped you, but, I still think you look pretty,” She pointed out with a more bashful smile. At the request, she nodded and gave Emilia a quick kiss on the cheek before she went to unbuckle her seatbelt and hopped out the car. She was practically skipping with excitement as she made her way inside.

Once Lola was out of the car, Emilia screamed in excitement. She took her phone off of airplane mode and called Ace to let him know about the good news. She put him on speaker and told him everything that had happened in the car as she reapplied her eye makeup. She was over the moon, and Ace was just as excited for her. Once she looked presentable, she ended the call and entered the restaurant.

Lola was on cloud 9 as she made her way inside giddily asking for a table. She had gushed to the hostess about having her first date tonight with a pretty girl in which, suddenly she was being seated at her table. She thanked the woman and took a seat, quickly texting AJ and Ivy, “Guess I’m joining the club,” and then waited for Emilia, her heart, was officially racing.

Emilia stared at her phone for a moment before entering the restaurant. She knew she had messages to answer, but she didn’t feel like doing it. It dawned on her that Lola most likely saw at least one OnlyFans notification when she turned her phone off for her earlier, and that she had quite a bit of explaining to do. She would cross that bridge later though, when they weren’t in public. She sent Blaine a quick text, stating “no prob, ttyl” before going on airplane mode once more. She wanted to give Lola all of her attention. The hostess graciously showed her to the table where Lola was seated.

Lola could feel the adrenaline rushing through her and it almost felt like electricity in her veins, in the best way possible, of course. When she got a few texts back, mostly from AJ, because she knew Ivy was working, she quickly shot back texts doing her best to explain in few words before responding “I’ll call you later”, when she noticed Emilia approaching and quickly pocketed her phone. Gosh, she’s so pretty... she thought to herself quietly and then responded, “Well, long time no see, stranger,” She teased.

Emilia was excited, but also incredibly nervous. Why did she have to say the date thing? Now the stakes felt so much higher. There was a big chance that she would severely screw things up. But maybe something really good could come out of this. “I’m sorry, who are you?” she asked, clearly joking.

As much as she felt that the whole date thing would mean a little more pressure, Lola reminded herself to make it as enjoyable as possible, even if it was awkward. "Wooow, you wound me, Emilia!" She teased, putting a hand over her own heart in a dramatic fashion. "So, I have a proposition for you, that way it takes a little bit of weight of your shoulders."

She giggled at Lola’s response to her joke. “And the Oscar goes to Lola Siciliani!” She hung her jacket up on the back of the chair and took a seat, immediately reaching for the bowl of tortilla chips on the table. She was thankful for free restaurant chips. She raised a brow when Lola spoke. “A proposition? What kind of proposition are you talking about?”

“I’d like to give a big middle finger to the academy and a shout out to this gorgeous gal back home...” Lola teased with a giggle. She went to try to steal a chip from Emilia as she nodded at the other girl’s question. “Okay, so, I know this is the first date, but, what if we just say it’s a casual first date, so that way it kinda takes the edge off y’know? Like—we don’t have to sit and try to impress each other because we’re just here to have a good time, no matter what the outcome.”

"Damn, what'd the Academy do to you?" she asked, laughing. "When you say back home, do you mean here or is there someone in Chicago I should know about?" Emilia was sure there were plenty of gorgeous girls in Chicago, maybe some that Lola had dated. Now that she was thinking about it, she realized that she really didn't know anything about Lola's dating history. That would be a question for later. "I like the idea of a casual first date... I think I'd like to do the 'getting to know you' part of a date though, because there's still a bunch of little things I don't know about you yet, and I'd like to."

"Oh you know, snub all my favorite actors," Lola laughed along with her and then snorted at Emilia's remark. "Well, I'm starting to consider Santa Monica as a second home and the only pretty girl I know is sitting right across from me," She added, batting her eyelashes cutely at the other girl. "Then back home I got my ma, Nonna, and Aunt Connie," She added with a grin. She realized there'd be more that the two of them would talk about between growing up in their hometowns to the infamous dating history. She was ready--sort of. "Awesome! And yeah, we can do that, get to know the deep dark secrets and all," She teased. "I could take the plunge and start or, would you like to have the floor first?" She asked curiously, resting her chin on the palm of her hand.

There it was again. She felt her face warming up. She hadn't even been in this restaurant for two minutes, yet Lola was already making her flustered. Getting complimented by pretty girls was truly her Kryptonite. "Oh hush. I can't be the only pretty girl you've met. There are literal models who live here!" Emilia hadn't met any personally, but she knew they were out there. Her heart dropped to her stomach at the mention of deep dark secrets. Emilia would have to talk about her 'side hustle' eventually. She told herself this only moments ago, but she still wasn't ready. What if Lola judged Emilia for what she did? Or worse, what if she told other people? "Umm... were you in any clubs or sports teams in high school?" That was an easy enough question.

"Pink's definitely your color," Lola began teasingly. "Just look at how cute you look when you get all flustered," She said, wiggling her eyebrows at Emilia with a big grin. "Okay, so? That doesn't make you any less prettier than any of the models here. You're gorgeous and if you weren't sitting across from me I'd probably squish your face--and that's rare," She admitted aloud. She was so going to kick herself for that comment. "I played soccer and was in the science club," She admitted with a grin. "What about you?"

“Stooooop,” she whined, hiding her face behind her hands. “It might be one of my favorite colors, but not on my face.” She took a few deep breaths, trying not to get overwhelmed. Then it hit her. She thought to herself, don’t think like Emilia, think like Lucy. “That’s too kind of you. But you could squish my face if you really wanted to, like...” She reached across the table and squeezed one of Lola’s cheeks. “Like that.” She smirked at the other girl. “I did choir all throughout high school and I was in stage crew for a few of the school plays. Oh, and GSA. Ace convinced me to start going to that in junior year.”

Lola giggled at Emilia whining and hiding behind her hands. She had a feeling she could get used to moments like these, except she hated there was a table between them because she’d be all over, kissing those cute flustered cheeks. “Well, I think it’s so cute,” She smiled scrunching her nose up at her. Then, the tables were turned when Emilia went to squish Lola’s cheek and she laughed feeling her own face slowly begin to turn pink. “Well...” She cleared her throat, hiding her own face for a moment and suppressing a fit of giggles. “You’re on!” She said as she reached over with both hands to squish Lola’s cheeks and then said, “Hey, why don’t we switch it up and you can sit next to me instead or I could go and slide over next to you?” She offered. “Really?” Her eyes widened in awe at the other girl’s clubs. “Do you still sing? What plays did you get to do? And hey! Wait, Ace? Museum guy Ace?—sorry that was a lot of questions, don’t mind me I got excited.”

A wide smile formed on Emilia's face once she wasn't the only one blushing. "Well well, how the tables have turned," she teased. "You see, I would move over, but then you would be squishing my cheeks all night long." She paused, trying to think of the answers to all of her questions. "It's okay. So, one, I sing for fun when I'm by myself in my room and in the car, but that's really it. Two, I helped with set design and stage makeup for Hairspray and Little Shop of Horrors. Three, probably, yeah. He basically lives at Bergamot when he's not at work." She took her phone out of her pocket and pulled up her photos, handing it over to show Lola a recent selfie of her and Ace. "That's him. We've been best friends since he moved here in freshman year of high school."

"This is a cruel fate," Lola said in between laughs as she tried using her hands to cover up her cheek. "Is that such a crime to give you some affection?" She asked, batting her eyelashes cutely at Emilia with the most innocent of smiles. "Let me guess, you're one of those shy singers that sound insanely good, right?" She asked with genuine curiosity. "Wow, I gotta say, I'm pretty impressed," Lola grinned. At the picture her eyes widened. "Holy shit, what a small world! I actually ran into him at the museum actually. We were talking about Botticelli's Venus painting and the alphabet mafia."

"Yes, yes it is," she joked back. "I, uh, no. I don't think I'm that good. I never got solos or anything like that. I'm just a plain old alto." As per usual, Emilia wasn't giving herself enough credit. The main reason why she never got solos in choir was because she didn't kiss the choir teacher's ass like some of her classmates. "Oh yeah! He told me about that. I, uh, may have mentioned you to him a few times..." By 'a few times,' she meant 'more times than she wanted to admit.' At this point, Emilia could only assume that Ace was tired of hearing about her not-so-hopeless-anymore crush. When the waiter came over to take their orders, Emilia greeted the familiar face and immediately started making small talk with him in Spanish.

"Well, consider me a criminal then," Lola reached over to go lightly squeeze Emilia's cheek with a grin. "Really? Hm...I'd ask you to try me right now, but I don't want you to feel uncomfortable but, if you ever want to, I'd want to hear the 'plain old alto' for myself, if that's okay?" She offered with a soft smile. She didn't want to directly put Emilia on the spot like that, but she had a feeling the other girl underestimated herself. "O-Oh! Well, I hope I made a good first impression on your best friend then," She smiled bashfully. When the waiter came over, she watched with a soft smile as Emilia was in her element. While she could understand what they said and could speak it, she knew just out of sheer nervousness she'd fumble over words and be a flustered mess. So she let them catch up.

“I’ll let you get away with it this time because your cute.” Lola’s cute little smile and eyelash batting were driving her crazy. And the fact that she wanted to hear Emilia sing but was understanding enough not to put her on the spot? Forget it. Why is she so perfect? she wondered to herself. “Oh yeah. He laughed about the alphabet mafia thing for at least a whole day.” Emilia and the waiter asked each other about their families and life in general. Emilia, of course, left out the parts about clinicals stressing her out beyond belief. She ordered her usual chicken taco platter and Sprite, then the waiter turned his attention to Lola, asking for her order in English.

"Oooh, you let me get away with that then I think you'll be in trouble soon." Lola was very close to making a very cheesy 'stealing your heart' type of comment, but held herself back from doing so. At least the principle of it was there, or so she thought. "Yeah it was something that I used to throw around in high school until I was able to come out," She chuckled. Lola watched Emilia and her friend exchange their stories with curiosity for a moment until it was finally her turn. She ordered in Spanish and then followed up with, "I grew up in a predominantly Latinx community so and since Italian and Spanish are very similar, I learned pretty quickly."

Both Emilia and the waiter looked over at Lola, surprised. The waiter went off to get their drinks and Emilia asked Lola, “Well damn, why didn’t you tell me sooner? So you know English, Italian, and Spanish? Do you know any other languages?” Blaine was fluent in Italian because of his grandfather, and Emilia was tempted to ask him for lessons. “So backtracking a bit, when did you come out?”

Lola smiled sheepishly and then said, "I didn't want to interrupt the conversation, but it was just cool to just hear it. Almost reminded me of home. And yeah, I speak a little bit of Mandarin and Korean, because of this science trip that I took, but I'm mostly fluent in Italian and Spanish, what about you?" She asked curiously. She definitely hoped she didn't come off as too much of a nerd. "My junior year of high school, so like...two years ago. My mom hugged me and cried and said, 'Thank God, Lola actually enjoys other people's company!'...I didn't vocalize crushes like my siblings did, mostly cause I've always been the quieter one," She admitted with a chuckle.

"I grew up speaking both English and Spanish at home. Spanish was my mom's first language and she wanted me to be fluent too, so she started teaching me both at the same time. I learned ASL in high school, and I still use it with Ace regularly. Aaaand I took a French class last year to fulfill a language credit, but I can't say that I really speak it. I remember, like, a few phrases." Emilia couldn't help but giggle at Lola's story about her coming out experience. "Damn, your mom really turned your coming out into a roasting session."

"That, is so cool! You've honestly got me beat, let's be real. That's so sweet that you picked up on ASL to communicate with Ace, that's true friendship right there," Lola nodded with a proud grin. "Ugh, French. That is such a hard language to learn. All I can say is Je m'appelle Lola and oui oui baguette," She bit her lip, trying to suppress a giggle, but couldn't help but do so. "It wouldn't be a Siciliani family dinner if there wasn't roasting involved. My mom, nonna, and pops, are legends of that."

"Do I have you beat? You know more languages than I do. But yeah, I wanted to be able to talk to him in a way that made him comfortable. Plus I thought signing would be a good skill to have." Ace was the only person she regularly signed with, though she was able to sign with a patient during one of her clinical rotations last week and she felt accomplished because of it. "Right? French is weird. There's so many letters in the words and they only pronounce half of them! What gives?" She giggled at the 'oui oui baguette' comment. "I remember 'omelette du fromage,' from Dexter's Laboratory." Emilia smiled at her fondly. "Is this what I have to look forward to one day? Roasting?"

“Yes you do. I think learning sign language holds the upper hand to the amount that I know, you know? I think sign language should be something everyone should know,” She grinned. “I love that for you both though. And um, I’d be willing to learn if you’re town to teach me?” she asked with a cute grin, but she meant it. She’d love to learn sign language especially to make Ace feel more comfortable. “Exactly! Like what is even that language? It’s like alphabet soup or something!” Lola laughed alongside with Emilia and gasped excitedly at the Dexter’s Laboratory reference. “Oh my god, yes!!! That one is a classic, it’s honestly the first French phrase I learned,” she admitted with a laugh. “Yes, and once you’re comfortable enough with us, get ready to get roasted.”

“Oh yeah, I can definitely teach you some stuff! Ace would probably do it too. Just tell me when.” She knew Ace would be willing to do it, but didn’t know if he had the time to do it. “Just a heads up, the ASL grammar rules can get a little funky. Frustrating is what it is! When a word ends in -er, -ez, or e with an accent, they all sound like the letter a! How does that make sense?” She huffed dramatically. “I think it might be the first phrase a lot of people in our generation learned.” She laughed nervously at the mention of getting roasted. “Oh, fun.”

"That would be really great! I mean, whenever you both are free, of course. I know schedules can be all over the place and everything," Lola mused with a grin. She was excited at the offer, but she also didn't want to push it either. "Wait what?! Really?! So how do you differentiate whether -er, -ez, or -e to not sound like a?" She asked curiously. "Definitely! I mean Dexter's Lab was one of the most iconic shows of our time between that and the Powerpuff Girls," She chuckled and then shook her head. "Don't worry, we don't start it right off the bat. We take it easy until you're ready."

“We’ll figure something out.” She smiled at Lola, reaching out for her hand. “Fuck if I know!” she answered with a laugh. She liked to think about her French class— and the B- she got in it— as little as possible. “Oh my God, the Powerpuff Girls is my absolute favorite!” She still watched reruns of it to this day. It was one of her comfort shows. “Not the 2016 reboot though. We don’t talk about the 2016 reboot.”

Lola nodded and reached for Emilia's hand with a big smile. "French is truly the weirdest language, I'm convinced," She laughed. "Wait really?! Me too! The Powerpuff Girls practically got me through my first exams last semester, I don't know what I would've done," She explained with a chuckle. "No, absolutely not the 2016 reboot doesn't exist. Although, I have to ask, which one's your favorite?"

"No way! That's crazy," she exclaimed. "That's really your favorite cartoon too? God, it's like you get more perfect the more I get to know you." She had to have some flaw. Everything about her felt too good to be true. "Nope, it never happened. Neither did Teen Titans GO... Which one is my favorite? I think I'd have to say Buttercup. I've always wished I could be a badass like Buttercup, but really I'm just a big ol' softy like Bubbles. Not that that's necessarily a bad thing, just a true thing. If you were a Powerpuff Girl, I think you'd be Blossom. You have that natural-born leader vibe about you."

"Yeah! I mean, I'm definitely far from perfect, though, that's for sure," Lola admitted with a sheepish grin. While it made her heart swell that Emilia thought so highly of her...she often thought of herself as someone who was often closed off from the world. "Teen Titans GO is honestly homophobic, I'm convinced. The light-heartedness, the lack of dark aesthetic...what's the point?" She shook her head with a sigh. "Well for what it's worth, you look like older Buttercup, you've just got Bubbles' spirit, and that's okay. Besides, Bubbles proved herself to be pretty hardcore which scared Blossom and Buttercup," She smirked. "Well...since you said I'm Blossom..." She trailed off as she pulled her phone out, scrolled for a few moments and slid over a picture. "Blossom is my favorite Powerpuff Girl so my mom dressed me up as her for Halloween, especially since my hair's more on the reddish side, like my nonna."

Emilia didn't want to push it, but she honestly though Lola was perfect. "Right?! Like, what was even the point of rebooting that show? They made everyone less hot and more annoying!" She had a huge crush on Raven as a child, but didn't realize at the time that dating girls was even an option for her. "I do? Let me guess, because of the green eye/dark hair combo? I get my hair from my mom, and I guess I get my eyes from my dad. I never met the guy, but my mom's family is full of brown-eyed people, so by default, it has to be from him." Emilia's jaw dropped when Lola showed her the Halloween costume pictures. "Lola, that is the cutest shit I've ever seen! Oh my God! Look at your little bow, and your little dress! Ahhhh!"

Lola nodded with enthusiasm, "Yes! Thank you! I honestly don't understand why they took away the appeal of it all...and I swear if you tell me that Raven and Beast Boy were your faves, I might have to run and buy a ring." Lola was pretty sure between Raven, Beast Boy, Megan Fox, and Sebastian Stan, that they were her bi-awakening, but, it also wasn't something that she had expressed out loud either. Her crushes, were often very, very quiet. "Guilty as charge, but also, and don't hate me, but you have the most attractive rbf. That's what really sold it to me." At the mention of Emilia's father, Lola's head tilted curiously. This was the first time she had ever heard him mention, and frankly...she wasn't really sure if she should ask. She didn't want to make things awkward or make Emilia feel uncomfortable. "Well, green eyes or brown eyes, I still find you pretty," She smiled softly. "Oh god," She giggled, feeling her face heat up again. "I didn't think you'd gush that hard over little me!"

She paused for a moment, flustered by the ring comment. “Oh, uh, Raven and Robin... but I guess one out of two isn’t bad?” She couldn’t exactly pinpoint who or what her pansexual awakening was, as there were several different factors at play. But she knew pretty cartoon characters definitely played some sort of role. “Wait, do I really have an rbf?!” Emilia thought of herself as a generally happy person, despite the fact that her smile was a source of insecurity. “I appreciate that. You already know I think you’re really pretty. I see that look on your face. You can ask questions if you want to. I don’t mind answering.” Though she didn’t talk about her biological father often, the topic was no longer a sore subject for her. She had made peace with the fact that she didn’t know the man and probably never would. “What can I say? You’re just that cute!” she exclaimed, smiling back at her.

Lola chuckled at Emilia's reaction, she truly was endearing. "Yeah, that's still grounds for being wifed up, that's for sure," She teased once more. She was lucky neither of her siblings were around hearing what she was saying because she'd definitely be given shit for it. "You do when you're really focused on something, but--and you're probably going to roast me on this, but I find it really attractive on you. Especially like...the moment when someone catches your attention, it melts away and you smile and your eyes go from laser beams to little stars...wow, that's such a simp thing to say," She said aloud, her face, officially, as pink as the bracelets on her wrist, but it was the truth. It was what she admired most about the brunette. "Thank you," She chuckled. "Okay, I'll only ask if you're comfortable with me asking, however. I don't want to bring up anything sour or make you feel like backed to a wall or anything," She offered. "Not as cute as you," She grinned, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Huh, if I had known that, I would've put it in my Tinder bio! Just kidding, I don't have Tinder," she stated, laughing nervously. She was too nervous for dating apps. If she did use a dating app, she would have to do what she does with her OnlyFans and pretend to be someone else-- a much more confident someone else-- and she didn't like the idea of lying to a potential partner. With OnlyFans, she wasn't trying to find someone, she was just trying to get paid. Emilia once again found herself flustered at Lola's compliments. Lola's words flowed like a poem. She wondered to herself, How was she this perfect? "I think... that might be the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me?" She noticed the other girl's blush, but didn't want to embarrass her by bringing attention to it. "I honestly don't mind talking about it. I mean, I might not have great answers because I really don't know the guy, but it doesn't bother me," she replied, shrugging. "Oh hush. You're cuter."

Lola couldn't help but burst out laughing at Emilia's comment about Tinder. Even if she did or didn't have one, she had to admit it was pretty clever. Although, she, herself only lasted a day on Tinder before deleting her profile. It wasn't something she bragged about after the many unwanted dick pics she got. She shook her head at the thought. "Wait really?" She tilted her head curiously at Emilia. How could no one tell her how pretty she was? How bright her smile was and the way she laughed could echo in one's head all day. "Well, I guess I should just share more of what I think when I see you over time, huh?" Lola meant every word about her, too. "And, you just answered my question," She giggled. "For what it's worth, your mom did one hell of an amazing job raising you, and kudos to your step-dad, too," She smiled. "Oh, so we're just gonna have that battle on who's cuter, is that what I'm gathering," Lola teased, moving her fingers up Emilia's arm playfully.

“Well yeah,” she admitted. “I mean, people have complimented me before. But it’s usually just surface level stuff. Nothing like that. That right there was pure poetry. You should start writing this stuff down. Maybe you’ll get a poetry award one day.” She knew on a conscious level that there were people who found her attractive. She wouldn’t have subscribers if they didn’t. But the ghosts of bullies past still haunted her to this day. She often thought about the classmates who made fun of her weight, her overbite, and the fact that she sometimes would slip into Spanish by accident. She thought about the girls in her dance class who made fun of her for being ugly and wearing hand-me-downs, and because she had to quit because her mom didn’t have the money to afford the classes. She thought about her ex-boyfriend, who never outright insulted her, but didn’t care about her feelings or interests. But Lola was different. But it had her wondering why. Why was she being so nice to her? Did she have an ulterior motive? Or was Emilia just traumatized and in need of genuine human kindness? As she got lost in her own thoughts, she heard speaking and felt her arm being touched, but wasn’t retaining what was being said or what was going on. She focused back in, asking, “Sorry, I zoned out a bit. What was that last part?”

Lola smiled a little and shrugged, "I've never really written poetry before but...I guess I could give it a whirl. Maybe I could ask AJ to help me. He's really big on poetry. Just so you know if I win that award, you'll be the first I thank." As she continued talking, she could tell that something about Emilia was off. The way she suddenly fell silent rang alarm bells in the back of Lola's mind and so she stood up and walked over to sit next to her, closing the space of the table in between them. It wasn't something she often did, but, she knew it struck something in Emilia and the last thing she wanted was for Emilia to be sad. It made Lola wonder as she quietly brought her hand to Emilia's cheek, why in the world would someone want to hurt someone as sweet as her? "I'm sorry if that struck a nerve, Em," She said quietly. "I just...wanted to say that I really admire you."

“It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong. I guess my brain is still resetting from earlier...” She still wasn’t 100% after her earlier panic attack. This whole day was a rollercoaster, and she felt as if she had just hit a sudden death drop. She took a deep breath before finally admitting, “Lola, I honestly don’t understand why you’re so nice to me. I appreciate it, really, but I don’t feel like I deserve it.”

"That's okay, you can take your time. Today took a toll on you so I can't expect you to magically be better, but I do want to be here for you too," Lola offered with a soft smile. Anxiety wasn't fun and she could speak it from experience, although she was one to bury her emotions deep down and not really show it to others, that was a different story for a different day, however. "I mean, you were nice to me the day we met, you know? Aside from having a crush on you, you were my first friend here, someone that I could easily relate to. Why do you feel undeserving of kindness?"

“Thanks,” she mumbled, taking Lola’s hand into hers and squeezing it. Emilia wanted to be okay. She wanted to enjoy herself. At minimum, she wanted to put on a brave face and swallow down her thoughts so Lola could enjoy herself. That wasn’t happening though. She could only hope that Lola didn’t feel burdened by her outbursts and shifting moods. When Lola asked why she felt undeserving of kindness, she froze. It was only a matter of time before this question came up. She hesitated before answering, “I-I guess it’s because I’m not used to it. My brain is constantly fluctuating between the thoughts of ‘you’re ugly and no one will ever like you because of that’ and ‘you’re attractive but people will only ever like you for your body.’ And it’s like a metronome that swings back and forth, never stopping in the middle... Wow, I feel like I’m in therapy.”

"I got you, Em," She smiled, lightly squeezing Emilia's hand to reassure her. Lola knew it was hard to keep everything contained, to keep a brave face without feeling like everything just kept getting chipped away. All she wanted to do was be there for Emilia, throughout the ups and downs, the good, the bad, and the ugly. While Lola wasn't the best at handling her own emotions, she was pretty good at being there for when others needed her, and this time, was no different. "Hey, what you're feeling is valid. I mean, whoever made you feel like that sucks and deserves to be kicked into a canyon Sparta style, but, your feelings are valid. That doesn't make you undeserving, though. You are beautiful, inside and out, and you're more than your body...and, I'll remind you every single day that you're worthy if I need to. Cause I care about you."

She squeezed Lola’s hand again, needing the grounding input. The urge to kiss her returned, stronger than before. However, this was interrupted by Juan the waiter bringing their food to the table. She looked over at him, stating, “Muchas gracias!” She then turned back to Lola and spoke. “I care about you too. Thank you, for everything. I can’t even express in words how much I appreciate everything you do for me. You know if you ever need to talk about anything that I’m here for you, right?”

Click here for Part 2

#Lola Siciliani #this isn't finished yet but it's already super long so we figured it would be a good idea to post what we have so far #like and subscribe for part 2 xoxo #self para

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authorwiththedragontattoo · 4 years

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The Snitch Seeker - Chapter 2

Chapter 1

When he had first heard about Hogwarts eighth year, the thought of attending didn’t even cross Draco’s mind. He had run away from the dark lord, barely evaded Azkaban and spent the last four months living in a house that was being monitored 24/7 by the ministry. They knew every move they made, if Draco decided to put an extra sugar in his coffee one morning, the Ministry knew about it.

So, when Narcissa Malfoy came into his room one day holding a letter from Minerva McGonagall requesting his return to Hogwarts in September, he was shocked to say the least. —– or yet another hogwarts eighth year in which draco redeems himself fic

Rating: Teen and up audiences

Warnings: Mild references to violence and death, mild gore, references to alcoholism and bad eating habits

“I’m going back to Hogwarts, Father.”

Draco stepped tentatively into Lucius Malfoy’s office. Lucius spent most of his time in there nowadays, drowning in old papers, frantically highlighting and scribbling down any notes he could. Neither Draco nor Narcissa knew exactly what he hoped to find in the old paperwork, but they expected he was looking for something, some way to climb his way back to the top. He had hoped that giving up the identities of escaped Death Eaters would be enough to earn him the title he had before, but it hadn’t. He was still just a failed ex- Death Eater who was considered a coward on both sides.

Draco’s words caused him to pause his frantic rummaging through his old draws, and look up at his son. His hair had grown long and unkempt, and his face was stubbly and old beyond his years.

“Hogwarts?”

Draco swallowed, “Yes, Father. To complete my N.E.W.Ts, I was invited by Professor McGonagall.”

Lucius’ brow furrowed, and he turned to face Draco properly; “And I expect all those mudbloods and blood traitors have been invited back as well.”

Draco cringed at the language his father used. Words he had thrown around so freely before now left a sour taste in his mouth, “I expect so, yes.”

This seemed to catch Lucius’ interest, as his face drew to that of concentration. Draco felt unnerved by him, Lucius had been rather… unhinged for a while now. While Draco and his mother had accepted their defeat with grace, quietly putting up with the punishments the ministry had chosen to bestow on them, Lucius had become angry and violent. He blamed ‘mudbloods’ and ‘blood traitors’ for their situation, for the possibility of being stripped of his fortune and for the state of house arrest they had been placed in.

“This is brilliant, my boy!” Lucius lunged forward and grabbed Draco by the shoulders, “Brilliant!”.

“It… it is?” Draco stuttered, taken aback by his father's unexpected joy.

“Yes! We can use this to help bring honour back to the Malfoy name, to bring us back to the power we were in before, you see? We just need to come up with a plan-��

“-No!”

Lucius’ gleeful face dropped into one of confusion, “N-no?”

Lucius wasn’t used to hearing his son say no to him.

Draco felt his father's hands tighten around his shoulders, before he shrugged them off, needing little strength to dismantle his father’s ever weakening grip.

“I just want to get my exams and go.” Draco replied firmly, “We lost, Father. One day you’re going to have to accept that.”

As much as it pained Draco to admit it, Ron was right; he had needed that sandwich.

It had gone nightfall before Draco finally made his way into the castle and the great feast had been and gone. He approached Professor Flitwick somewhat sheepishly, expecting a lecture about arriving so late into the night as he marked him present, but Flitwick didn’t say a word. He simply nodded his head and opened the door to allow him in. This confused Draco; but he secretly thanked whatever higher power there was that he didn’t have to explain to the Professor the reason for his tardiness.

He had been told in the letter that the Prefect’s floor had been converted into a dormitory for the eighth year, so Draco straightened his shoulders and raised his chin, ready to finally face what he had been dreading all day when something stopped him in his tracks.

One of the walls that sat at the entrance of the school had been completely cleared of the old paintings, and instead held portraits. Portraits of all the people that died four months ago.

The breath caught in Draco’s throat as the commemoration left him stiff; staring up at all the faces he had seen many times in his nightmares. But in his nightmares their faces were often frozen in fear, in pain, with blood painting their skin and rubble caught in their hair. Sometimes their faces would distort into vile twists, or their skin would melt off the bone. Occasionally they would talk to Draco, shout at him. Tell him it’s his fault they were dead, his fault they were murdered. Those were the ones that often had Draco retching over the toilet for the rest of the night.

Here they were smiling, happy. Their most joyous moments caught in moving images, laughing and having fun. That’s how people wanted to remember them, Draco supposes. People want to remember when they were happy, not fighting for their lives.

Draco’s rapid heart felt like it skipped a beat when his eyes landed on one particular image. In the corner of the wall, near the bottom, but there nonetheless. The brown eyes of Gregory Goyle burned into the grey of Draco’s.

“Greg…” Draco whispered, stepping closer.

Goyle was someone who was definitely a frequent visitor in Draco’s night terrors, and one of the rather more terrifying ones at that. More than a few nights a week Draco could still feel the flames lick his ankles after watching Gregory slip and be consumed by the inferno. He could still feel the smoke choke his lungs and make his head spin, making climbing for his life all the more difficult. Had Potter not come back, Draco for sure would have met the same fate as Gregory.

Suddenly, Draco selfishly thought of what would have happened if he had died that day. Would he be on this wall too?

Once again he let his eyes roam the wall, analysing the different faces looking back at him. A photo of Lavender Brown in the stunning blue dress she wore to the Yule Ball smiled at him as she curtseyed to the camera. Colin Creevey proudly holding a photography trophy beamed at him, showing off the biggest, toothiest smile. Fred Weasley, slipping some sort of sweet gummy into Professor Flitwick’s cloak pocket cheekily winked at him, holding a finger to his lips in a ‘shushing’ motion.

Giving a small, sad smile to Gregory Goyle’s portrait, Draco concluded that no, he wouldn’t have been included on this wall had he died that day.

The doors of the eighth year common room glared down at Draco, judging him for hesitating. He could hear the commotion coming from inside, lively chatter, clinking of glasses and what sounded like a riveting game of Wizard Chess, but the loudest thing of all was the sound of Draco’s heartbeat in his ears.

He had made it through the train journey with no incidents, his interaction with Weasley was tame compared to what Draco had imagined would happen the second he showed his face here. But this was the real test; walking into a room of people who he’d looked in the eye as he stood among the Death Eaters, stood on the side of the man who killed their friends; their family.

Deciding he had behaved cowardly long enough, Draco straightened his tie and smoothed down his robes, before opening the doors and stepping through. At first it seemed like no one noticed, the chatter carried on and no one seemed to glance his way. That didn’t last long, though. Eventually, people saw him, and gradually a hush fell over the room, until the only sound that could be heard was the crackling of the fire.

For a moment, everyone was still, in shock. Draco stood like a deer in the headlights, but he kept his chin high and his face stern, hoping the pure fear that ran through his veins remained undetected by the crowd. No one seemed to know what to say, or what to do. Draco didn’t either. Until a voice piped up in the crowd.

“Is this some kind of a joke?”

Draco’s gaze immediately zoned in on the source of the voice, finding Seamus Finnigan, rising from the sofa near the fireplace; looking around incredulously as if to make sure he wasn’t the only one who saw Draco walk through the door.

“I better not be seeing you, you better not be here right now.” Finnigan spoke again.

Everyone’s eyes remained on Draco, some still in disbelief like Finnigan’s, some in mild to moderate disgust, and some blank faces. Draco noted Granger and Weasley sat in the corner of the room, and came to the assumption Weasley had already told Granger he was here considering the lack of surprise on her face. Or perhaps she was smart enough to know McGonagall would have invited him back despite his current reputation. That was also highly likely. He briefly noted in the back of his mind that Potter wasn’t anywhere in sight.

“Well, evidently I am here, Finnigan. So why don’t you just fuck off and mind your business.” Draco shot back, feeling vulnerable as thirty pairs of eyes bore into his skin.

Finnigan scoffed, and started moving closer; “What did you have to do to be allowed back here, huh? Did daddy buy your way in?”

Draco looked Finnigan in the eye and scowled, daring him to go down this road.

“Oh wait,” he continued, stepping closer “See, I heard your family is getting stripped of it’s fortune. Daddy doesn’t have any money anymore, does he?”

The room erupted into a low murmur, as people started whispering to each other; eyes flitting between Finnigan and Draco.

“I’m warning you, Finnigan.” Draco replied in a low voice.

He knew this is the exact opposite of what he should be doing, of what he planned. He wanted to keep his head down, and get through the year quietly. He wanted to get his exams and leave as soon as possible, so he could get a good job and buy a house for his mother and father to live in if they weren’t allowed to keep the manor. He knew fighting with someone the second he stepped into the building was the easiest way to ensure he gets his second chance at a future ripped out from under his feet, but he couldn’t help it. Finnigan knew where to prod him so that it hurt.

“Maybe your mother slept with the Minister, is that it?”

Seamus knew exactly where it hurt.

Draco reached into his robes and pulled out his wand, aiming it at Seamus. Quick to recognise what Draco was doing, Seamus raised his in turn. The room gasped and people scuttled to the edges of the room, trying to keep out of the line of fire.

“Don’t you say a word against my mother!”

“What are you gonna do about it Malfoy? You’re finished! You may be back in school but no one is ever going to forget how you and your cowardly family ran away when the going got tough.”

“lingua ligatum”

Without thinking, Draco cast a tongue-tying curse at Finnigan; who easily deflected it with a wave of his wand. Gasps and cries could be heard as the spell was thrown, people covered their heads and ducked away from the conflict.

Finnigan chuckled darkly, apparently not even in shock at Draco casting the curse, and turned to look around the room; “You see that?” he gestured to Draco with his wand before turning back to him.

“Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater.”

Draco broke his gaze with Finnigan and looked around the room. People looked at him with fear and anger in their eyes as they cowered away. It was exactly what he was expecting; exactly what he had hoped to avoid.

And now he tried to curse someone in the common room.

He quickly lowered his wand and turned on his heel. He knew it was late, and all his things would be waiting for him in the dormitory; but he couldn’t stay there. So he did what he seemed to have become very good at these days, and he ran.

As he pushed his way back through the doors, he heard Finnigan call behind him.

“That’s it, run away! Just like you always do!”.

And he was right.

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skydiving-without-a-parachute · 5 years

Text

Release Day

Enjoy this rambling of a fanfic with the most hurried and inspire-lost ending ever.

Pairing: Johnlock (Sherlock Holmes x John Watson) | Genre: Angst, fluff, explicit smut! | Word count: 2254 words | Warnings: Talk about rape, mention of suicide

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It had been the day John had been totally, completely, undeniably sure would never ever come. Sherlock had broken some laws in the name of a case, and this time neither Mycroft nor Lestrade had been able to save him. Six months in prison. Four for his minor crimes and two for mouthing off at his hearings. What a dumbass, John had thought. So brilliant, and yet, a complete dumbass.

It had been the longest six months in his life though; A life without Sherlock was hard to keep going. John had not even bothered to get out of bed the days he was off from the clinic. His off days were absolute agony. No cases, no taking care of Sherlock... God, he would have killed even for a good fight with Sherlock!

But here he now was, at the gates of the prison, finally seeing Sherlock walking out in his sharp suit he had been wearing when arrested. Six months had not only been long, because John was bored, but because it had given him time to actually think about things. He wasn't constantly going after Sherlock, he was just... By himself. And in those six months he had realized things.

Sherlock looked around and soon spotted John, his face lighting up a little. Clearly he had not expected John to be there when he would finally be released. The detective strode over to his doctor, who grabbed him in a tight hug. It felt good. John felt Sherlock's dark, smooth curls and breathed in his fresh scent. Sherlock had showered and shaved, and judging by the short strands of hair on his shoulders, he had gotten a hair cut as well. He looked exactly the same as the day Lestrade had cuffed him. John was sure half the department had volunteered as the arresting officer, but due to their history and Lestrade's undeniable fondess for Sherlock, Greg had handled the arresting himself.

They sat in silence, both in their chairs, as they were meant to. John had been studying Sherlock the entire evening, not being able to find any symptoms of having suffered a trauma in Sherlock. After another thirty minutes, Sherlock grew annoyed. "What is it, John?" His voice was sharp, as he lowered his book. "Huh? Oh, I... Nothing", John responded, trying to seem genuine, but obviously the detective was having none of it. The world's most successful detective in the history of mankind wouldn't fall for any of John's lies, ever, and the doctor should have been aware of it. Sherlock's stare was drilling holes through John's skull. "You seemed to survive jail well", John finally told him. For a fraction of a second Sherlock seemed confused, before his lips parted and he looked down, realizing, what John meant. "I was. Repeatedly", he admitted silently, biting his teeth together. John could see Sherlock's facial muscles tense up. "Oh my god, Sherlock... I'm so sorry."

The silence built up again. John was deep in his thoughts while Sherlock was still reading his book. One could practically hear the dust settling in the room. "How did you...", John abruptly broke the silence, not daring to finish his sentence. Not that he needed to, Sherlock had known the sentence since John uttered the first word. "My mind palace, John", he replied, eyes focused on the pages, but he stopped reading. "I went to my mind palace. Thought of some unsolved cases and... And you."

John's head snapped up and he looked at Sherlock like a deer in the headlights. Had Sherlock just said that he had gotten through rape by thinking about him? John's head was reeling. "It's okay", the detective continued. John wanted to tell Sherlock to stop talking, but this was probably Sherlock's way of conciously or subconciously tell him, that he needed to talk to someone about it, so John kept his mouth shut. "I have never enjoyed sex. It's dull, a boring need. Like eating and sleeping. Absolutely meaningless."

The good doctor felt sorry for Sherlock. He had never experienced a good shag? He had felt like rape was just another time he was having bad sex? John got up from his chair, took a few determined steps towards Sherlock, and sat down in his lap, knees on both sides of Sherlock. "Sherlock, I am going to kiss you. If you don't like it, tell me to stop", he told the detective, and proceeded to bring his lips down on Sherlock's, cupping his face with his rough hands. John started slow and gentle, but got more passionate, when Sherlock's lips parted. Their tongues tangoed, as John pressed closer to Sherlock's body. The detective wrapped his long arms around John, as his book fell to the floor with a thud.

John's breath was ragged, his pulse off the charts and he could almost feel his dilated pupils. Sherlock wasn't in a much better condition; His breath was hot and heavy on John's skin and his eyes had gone dark. It only fueled John's fire. "All good?" he felt the need to ask. This was for once about Sherlock. John wanted him to feel loved and understand just how amazing sex could be. Much to his relief, Sherlock nodded, "it feels... good, John." The doctor lost himself in another kiss, before realizing, that Sherlock might not be comfortable in the chair. "Want to move to the bedroom?" "I think that could be a good idea", Sherlock let out a little laugh, that made John smile wide.

Sherlock always did look good in purple, but John wasn't gonna dwell over that as he started to unbutton said color shirt. He had already discarded his jumper and Sherlock's jacket on the floor. The detective looked absolutely delicious laying on his back on the bed, looking up at John with lustful eyes. Never mind John "Three Continents" Watson, this was a real achievement - Sherlock Holmes, not having a single good shag in his life, lusting for the doctor.

John let out a moan, as Sherlock removed his trousers and pants, and grabbed John's erect cock. "Oh god... You have... You have lube?" John was out of breath, more than he should have been at this point. He could've cum all over Sherlock's toned stomach just by looking at the detective underneath him. Sherlock was so fucking gorgeous, his skin milky white and bones almost pressing through. John trailed one of Sherlock's collar bones through his skin, before reaching for the lube Sherlock promised would be in the top drawer of the nightstand.

John squeezed some lube on his hand, warmed it up and slowly started working Sherlock's cock, drawing the most sinful moan out of the detective's mouth. God, John was going to be wanking to that moan for ages. "Condoms?" "I- I wasn't prepared for that, but you won't be needing one. It's okay, we're both clean", Sherlock struggled to talk, arching his back slightly at the pleasant feeling John was causing.

Being a doctor was a privilege, to be able to help so many people, but every once in a while John found it to be an advantage in his personal life; This was one of those times. John slicked a finger and after massaging around Sherlock's hole for a minute, he pushed it in. He could hear Sherlock hiss at the feeling, so he gave him a moment to adjust, before starting to look for his prostate. The walnut-sized gland was easy to find with said medical training, and John didn't hesitate to use every single trick in his book on it. Before he even knew it, Sherlock was rocking himself onto John's finger, moaning and wanting more.

John drew his finger out, earning a displeased whimper, but soon pushed back in, this time two fingers, and headed back to Sherlock's prostate. John felt a burning need to pull out his fingers and fuck Sherlock utterly senseless. This is about Sherlock, he reminded himself. This is about giving him for once in his life a good experience that's all about him. All about someone loving and wanting to please him. The thought was almost as good as getting to fuck Sherlock, so he rolled with it. This seemed to please Sherlock the most, so John would keep it up at any cost.

"Good god, John!" Sherlock's body was tensing up and he felt a heat building in his stomach, pushing him to worm against John's fingers even more desperately. John knew Sherlock was chasing his climax, so he added just a little more pressure in massaging, and wrapped his other hand around Sherlock's twitching cock. A few strokes did it, and Sherlock came undone with a cry.

God, he looked so beautiful, absolutely wrecked with pleasure. Judging from the lube, Sherlock did please himself every once in a while, but John was sure he had never experienced something this good. Sherlock's ivory skin was covered in a thin sheet of sweat, riddled with hormones that made an intoxicating scent. His dark hair was messy and his plump lips parted, as he breathed heavily after John had guided him through his orgasm. The doctor completely ignored his own touch-starved erection, and just kneeled between Sherlock's long legs and watched the beautiful view in front of him. Sherlock opened finally his eyes as the corners of his mouth tugged upwards. "That was... good. I apologize for my lack of a better word."

John let Sherlock just enjoy his bliss and wrapped a hand around his own cock, when he felt Sherlock gently grab his wrist. "Just... Wait just a second, alright? You deserve some reward of your own", Sherlock promised, apparently feeling like he owed John to let him fuck him. "Oh no, Sherlock, this is... This is not something you keep score of", John told him. "This has nothing to do with me. This was all about you, Sherlock. About you having one good shag even if it would be the end of me", he explained, feeling a little sting in his heart. He wanted to be more than one good shag, he wanted to be Sherlock's everything the way Sherlock was his everything. He wanted to stop sleeping upstairs and move into Sherlock's room, to make gentle love in the morning sunlight and to cure Sherlock's overthinking with a good pounding, when he was getting lost in a difficult case.

"I want to." John felt his heart stop for a second, as he looked into Sherlock's silvery blue eyes. Sherlock actually wanted to have sex with John. It couldn't have all been the effect of one good orgasm, could it? "But you just climaxed", John protested. "I recover fast, doctor", Sherlock smirked at him. John shook his head, slightly amused at Sherlock's reply. "You sure?" he confirmed, and got an eager nod in response.

It was better than John could have ever imagined. After prepping Sherlock properly and lubing himself generously, John aligned himself with Sherlock, and pushed in. A soft cry left his lips as he slowly pushed all the way in, letting Sherlock adjust and find a comfortable position. Oh my god, Sherlock was so tight and hot. John was already moaning like a freight train when he slowly pulled away, almost to the end, and pushed back in. He started building up a pace and tried to angle his thrusts so he brushed Sherlock's prostate every single time. And good god, when Sherlock started to beg for John to absolutely wreck him... "Harder, John, please!" He gave Sherlock everything he had, until he reached his release, crying out in ecstacy.

Sherlock helped himself into his second climax while John was panting and half out of it. Apparently it had been a while since he had gotten laid properly. The detective held his doctor close and closed his eyes, just enjoying the moment. He felt thorougly spent, but thoroughly loved. It hadn't been a coincidence, that he had thought about John while getting raped in prison; John was his everything. John was the reason Sherlock made it ouf of prison alive. While Sherlock was the master at manipulating and managing his feelings, being in prison, where his tall and thin frame - and especially that cute bottom and curly hair of his - had been very appreciated, could have gotten the best of him. Even if he hadn't killed himself, he wouldn't have been the same man that went in. Sure, he wasn't the same man in this scenario either, but with John by his side, he would be able to recover.

"They said it was the only thing this pretty mouth of mine was good for", Sherlock quietly said later that evening, laying in bed with John. They had showered and had dinner, before crawling back into Sherlock's bed together. But as he saw the horror on John's face, he realized, that he shouldn't have said that. "I'm sorry, John, that was very insensitive of me-" "No, Sherlock. If you need to talk about it, talk about it. I'm here, I'll listen, day or night. Don't you once think you have to keep this inside." John was almost defensive, sounding nearly... Angry? Had Sherlock angered him? "You are the world's most brilliant, most successful detective. Your mouth tells the rest of us what's going through your head, and it's bloody brillint. The most beautiful thing I have ever witnessed", the doctor kept talking, looking at Sherlock with a serious look. "Don't ever think they were right." "Thank you, John."

#sherlock holmes #bbc sherlock #john watson #dr watson #dr john watson #johnlock #sherlock holmes x john watson #sexlock #smutlock #sherlock smut #fanfic #fanfiction

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