#i do dig it feels good ta edit again :]
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Fake or Fortune
For @omgrachwrites 1K Follower Celebration - congratulations!
AU: Fake Relationship
Billy Russo x Reader
A/N: This does not follow canon, it takes place in my Alternative S1 Punisher Universe, with Arrogant!Billy in attendance.
Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content, slightly questionable consent, some dom/sub interaction, oral and unprotected* sex between consenting adults. Swearing and drinking.
*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.
(My Photo Edit)
Karen put a large G&T down in front of you, accompanied by a sympathetic look. You picked it up and took a large sip, sighing as you put it back down again.
“I give up, Karen. No matter what I do, without fail I either pick the wrong guy or else think everything’s fine, and then boom - it isn’t.”
This was a commiseration drinking session, which Karen had suggested after she’d noticed you moping around the office. You both worked at the same big newspaper but in different departments, and became good friends after spending numerous lunchtimes together in the staff restaurant.
“What happened this time?” she asked, then winced as she realised maybe that wasn’t the most tactful way of putting things. “I mean, I thought you and David were getting on really well?” You took a larger gulp of your drink, “Well, that’s the thing - so did I. Until I got the “it’s not you, it’s me” talk on Saturday.” You’d been seeing this guy from your Digital News Content section for a few months, and you’d really thought everything had been on track.
Karen sighed, “Oh lord, not that old pile of bullshit.” You nodded, “Yeah, right. I tried to pin him down to exactly what the problem was, but I guess it was just me, when it all came down to it. In fact, I saw him chatting up a girl from Accounts yesterday so he’s already moved on to pastures new. That didn’t take long, did it? Or maybe he’d already moved on but didn’t have the balls to tell me.”
“Look, I’m meeting up with Frank on Friday night for a drink...” her cheeks pinked up, and you smiled at her obvious pleasure in that thought, “....so why don’t you come along? He mentioned one of his friends might tag along.” You held up a hand, “Oh no! No! I’m not being set up.” She shook her head, “It’s not a set-up, I swear. They’ve got a little....issue.... with Homeland and we’re going to talk about it.”
You knew she’d recently met this ex-Marine called Frank when - in her role as investigative reporter - she’d been digging into some big CIA scandal. When was there not a scandal about the CIA, you thought. You knew she’d met him several times over the past couple of weeks and had detected a more-than-just-business interest in him. “Oh, so.... strictly business, then?” you teased. She shifted in her seat, “Well, mainly.... we’ve also been talking about more personal stuff.” “Uh-huh,” you nodded, smirking, “Karen fancies Frank, Karen fancies Frank!” you sang, while she batted your arm and gave an embarrassed laugh.
“Oh shut up, you,” she said, “...are you coming along or not?”
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
And that’s why you found yourself sitting in a neighbourhood bar with Karen on Friday night, feeling quite nervous for some reason. Probably because Karen was fidgeting like hell next to you, and you were picking up on her nervous energy. You smiled over at her, “So you really like this guy, huh?” “No!”she denied, then as you raised an eyebrow at her, “Well... okay, yes I do like him. He’s so sweet.” Her eyes widened as she spoke, catching sight of two approaching figures, “Oh! Here he comes.” A big bear of a man came up to your table, smiling broadly at Karen and then including you in the smile as he stopped beside you. “Hey, Karen,” he greeted her, and she beamed back at him. “Hey, Frank,” and then she introduced you to him. His friend, who’d been partially blocked from your sight by Frank’s bulk, moved out from behind him and said ‘Hi - I’m Billy Russo,’ and shook your hand as he did so. “Nice ta meet ya,” said Frank, also shaking your hand and sitting down in the booth next to Karen.
The man who’d just introduced himself as Billy slid in next to you, and you tried not to stare. He was hot. Like, really hot. Dressed in a smart suit and overcoat, he really didn’t look like an ex-Marine, but Karen had told you that both Frank and his friend were ex-service, and that the friend had opened up a security firm called Anvil when he left the Marines. His handsome face turned towards you, and two very dark eyes looked into yours, “So.... you’re a friend of Karen’s?” You nodded, “Yeah, we just worked together to start with but now we’re besties.” “You a reporter too?” “Nah, I’m a lowly sub-editor on the news desk.” A sudden thought occurred to you, “Oh... and just to reassure you, this isn’t a set-up... you and me, I mean.” He smirked, and you found yourself staring at his lush brushed-back hair and sculpted jaw with its light beard. “Would it have been a big problem if it had been?” he was saying to you, and you shook yourself out of your little trance.
“No, I guess not...” you replied, laughing nervously, “...but I just wanted to get it out there.” He looked you over appraisingly, “Well, I wouldn’t have been disappointed at all,” the smirk got bigger, “....so if you change your mind, just let me know.” This left you speechless but he was still looking at you, asking, “Whaddya want to drink? First round’s on me,” before turning his gaze to the others.
Several beers later, you were sitting listening to the other three talking about a lot of indecipherable nonsense (from your point of view), and you were beginning to get antsy. “Karen, I’m going to head off,” you said in a break in the conversation and she looked slightly guilty, “Oh sorry... we’ve been going on about this for ages.” You shrugged, “It’s fine, Karen, honestly. I’ll see you Monday, okay? Have a great weekend.” You turned to the guys, “You too, and thanks for the drinks,” and made to move out of the booth. But Billy didn’t move. “See you home?” he questioned you, and you saw small smiles on both Karen and Frank’s faces. “Yeah, okay,” you nodded, and then he moved, standing aside as you slid out of the booth. As you headed to the door through the crowd of people, you felt his arm snaking around your lower back. Oooh, very confident, you thought. You’d marked him out as a player as soon as you’d set eyes on him.
“Sorry about the boring shop talk,” he said as you both hit the street, “....me and Frankie’ve got some problems with Homeland right now.” “That doesn’t sound good,” you said as you found yourself being guided around the corner from the bar. “Oh, I was going to take the subway,” you protested, but he shook his head, “This time on a Friday night? Nah.” He pointed towards a rather flashy-looking car parked in the street, “Got the car with me so I’ll take you home. I only had one beer, case you didn’t notice.” “I didn’t,” you admitted, “I thought you were sinking beers like the rest of us.” He gave a low laugh, “I was a sniper in the service, so I like to be aware of my surroundings at all times.” A little frisson ran through you, this guy was quite dangerous, you could tell. As you reached the car, he held the passenger door open for you and you climbed in, trying to be as elegant as possible although you weren’t sure you quite achieved that.
As he started the engine and moved the car out into the flow of traffic, he asked, “So what made you come along tonight if it wasn’t a set-up?” “I was bored. I just split up with my boyfriend of a few months so...” you shrugged. You heard a chuckle, “His loss.” “I don’t think that’s what he thought,” you replied, with a self-deprecating laugh. “Well, it’s true,” said Billy, “...believe me. He must be mad to give you up.” “You silver-tongued charmer,” you said back to him, and again you heard his deep chuckle.
“Seriously, it’s my gain. Look, this might seem a bit of an odd request seein’ as how we’ve only just met...” he began, looking across at you as he pulled up outside your apartment block, “....but you’d be doin’ me a big favour. How ‘bout you come along to this charity event I gotta go to next week? As my ‘plus one’?” You hesitated, and he carried on, “No strings, I promise. Just come along as my girlfriend and be on my arm all night. Help me ward off the attentions of someone I’d rather avoid.” You scoffed, “Fake dating? Really?!”
Much to your surprise, you found yourself walking into your building a few minutes later having just agreed to go to this event with Billy. He’d looked pleased, thanking you for saying yes. And you’d also been on the receiving end of a surprise kiss from him. He’d suddenly leant in, slid his big hand around the back of your neck and pulled you in, his mouth finding yours as he did. The kiss had been short but very sexy and you were still tingling from the after-effects.
He’d laughed at your look of total surprise, and wished you sweet dreams. You’d better be careful, warned your internal guardian angel, he said ‘No Strings’.... remember? So don’t go getting all invested in this guy. He’s a player.... for sure.
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
Billy and you had swapped numbers, and the following morning you were pleasantly surprised to get a text asking if you could meet him later that day. Intrigued, you texted back saying you didn’t have any other plans but why did he need to meet up? He came back saying he’d had an idea to help out with the event next week, and said he could pick you up. Feeling like you could be making a big mistake, you agreed so he said he’d be at your place around two.
You made sure you dressed casually. Not having any idea where you were going, but sure it wouldn’t be a date as such, you just chose a shirt and jeans with some suede ankle boots. When Billy texted you to say he was parked outside, you left your apartment and locked up, feeling a spark of excitement run through you as you did. “This is not a date, this is not a date, this is not a date!” you chanted in your head as you went downstairs. Billy, you saw with relief, was also dressed casually in jeans, t-shirt, leather jacket and combat boots. He gave you a big grin as you got in the car, the luxurious leather aroma of the interior filling your nostrils. “What make of car is this?” you asked, being an “it’s a black one” kind of girl. He gave you what could only be described as a smug smile, “Rolls Royce Wraith, sweetheart,” he answered. “Oh, okay,” you said, “....expensive, I take it?” “Very.” “Surprised you park it on the street the way you do then,” you shrugged, and he burst out laughing. “Is it one of those so-called penis extensions?” you asked next, and Billy nearly choked he was laughing so hard.
“Firstly, I take it that means you aren’t particularly impressed,” he gasped, getting his breath back after his laughing fit, “...and secondly, no darlin’, it definitely isn’t one of those ‘penis extensions‘ as you put it. Got no need for one-a those.” You returned his smirk, “Really? Well, I don’t care what car a guy drives,” you said firmly, “...that’s got nothing to do with what he’s like.” He glanced across at you as he swung the car into one of the downtown underground car parks. “And what do you think I’m like?” You looked at his profile as he concentrated on parking the big car in a corner space, “Mmmm... I think you’ve had a hard upbringing and now you’re making up for it. Big time.”
Billy switched the engine off and turned to stare at you, the dark eyes drilling into yours with an intensity you hadn’t been expecting. “Wow,” said Billy, “....you sure you’re not one-a these psychoanalysts or somethin’?” “Definitely,” you replied. “Well, you sure sound like you’ve been analysing me, sweetheart,” he said. You didn’t know him well enough to gauge his mood, and he carried on, “I mean, you got all that from meetin’ me last night and just now?” You nodded, saying neutrally, “I’m just speculating of course... but the expensive suits, the car, and I bet a big flashy apartment too, it just says ‘I can afford this now and I’m gonna enjoy it’ to me.” You were relieved to hear a chuckle as you’d been worried you’d really offended him. “Spot on,” he said, “...yeah, you’re spot on. I think you’re maybe in the wrong business.” You decided to change the subject, “So... where are we going, Billy?” “You’ll see in a minute,” he grinned, “....c’mon, let’s go sweetheart.”
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
Minutes later, you were standing outside one of the expensive and trendy boutiques in the area. Billy’s hand went under your elbow and he steered you inside. “Billy... what’s going on?” He nodded to one of the staff who started making her way over to the two of you. “Look, it was my bright idea to drag you along to this thing, so the least I can do is treat you to a new outfit.” You were shaking your head before he’d stopped speaking, “Oh no, no... I can’t let you do that!” He was nodding back at you - it must’ve looked quite comical to the store assistant, “Oh yes, you will - I insist.” He turned to the woman, “Please can you help my girlfriend pick out an outfit for a formal event?” And before you could say anything else, he’d wandered over to a seating area near the changing rooms and seated himself in a comfortable armchair. “I’ll be right here, sweets,” he said, beaming at you. Girlfriend indeed, you thought.
The store assistant looked expectantly at you and you nodded hesitantly at her, so she led you over to some rails filled with lots of beautiful dresses. “How nice of your boyfriend to buy you a whole new outfit,” she commented, beginning to slide the dresses back and forth along the rail looking for a selection for you, “He’s very charming,” she continued, admiringly. “Yes, isn’t he,” you said between gritted teeth. Truthfully, you were feeling as if you were out shopping with your sugar daddy. But you had to admit that your bank account would’ve been protesting loudly if you’d had to make the purchase yourself, and you definitely would’ve had to buy something new as nothing in your wardrobe was even remotely suitable for a formal event. And he was right, this was all his bright idea. So you’d just suck it up, you thought, however reluctantly.
Eventually the assistant had several dresses folded over her arm for you to try on, and you sailed past Billy to the changing rooms without as much as a glance at him. But you just knew he was staring at you as disappeared behind the curtain.
After twenty minutes of struggling in and out of the various dresses, you had to admit that the assistant had made some good choices. There were three that you really liked, and you finally chose a midnight blue silky sheath of mid-thigh length, an asymmetric one-shoulder-strap neckline and a swirl of sequins diagonally across it from neck to hem. It was tight-fitting but didn’t show off an excessive amount of skin - you didn’t want to have it all out there on show after all.
The assistant had also brought several pairs of shoes to you once you’d chosen your dress, and you picked out a pair of matching delicate strappy sandals. Pleased with your choices, you put your own clothes back on and went out to find Billy. He looked up from his phone as you exited the changing room, a disappointed look on his face, “What.... no catwalk show for your boyfriend?” You leant down and whispered, “Okay, you’re laying it on a bit thick, Russo,” to which he grinned, gently took hold of your chin and softly kissed you. “You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he smirked. Then a horrible thought occurred to you, “Billy!” you whispered forcefully. He looked a bit nervously at you, “What?” “There was no price tag on that dress or the shoes either!” He waved a hand at you, “Yeah? That’s okay, just leave it to me.” “No! That’s not on. I’m going to ask her what the price is.” He jumped up out of the armchair, “Nah, nah! Told ya, it was my idea you come along so just let me do this, okay?”
He set off without further delay to the cash desk, while you reluctantly waited in the seating area. Not particularly comfortable with the idea of him buying you an outfit, you decided that you’d offer to buy him dinner to kind of offset his no doubt hefty bill for the dress purchase. He came back over to you a few moments later carrying a large box in one of the boutique’s carrier bags which he handed to you with a grin. “She’d already boxed it before I could see it so it’s still gonna be a surprise when I see it on the night.” You smirked back, you were quite pleased about that. “Billy, let me buy you dinner as a thank you for the dress.” “Okay, I won’t say no to a free dinner,” he grinned, “...where d’ya wanna go?” You mentally reviewed your bank balance and named a mid-priced restaurant close by.
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
After a pleasant couple of hours chatting over dinner, Billy drove you home. Debating how to end the night, you came up with what you felt was a decent plan. Not that you were trying to extend the evening of course. That would be just plain stupid as the ‘relationship’ was all a big fake. Remember? your brain asked you. “You know Billy, we haven’t prepared a back story yet, have we?” you said as he drew up outside your place. “A back story?” “Yeah. I mean, if this person you’re trying to avoid happens to ask us - together or separately - about our relationship, we need to be singing from the same songsheet, don’t we?” He looked thoughtful, “Uh yeah, you’ve got a point there.” “OK, well how about you come in for a glass of wine or a coffee and we can get that sorted now?” A devilish smirk appeared, “Plannin’ to ravish me, sweetheart?”
You felt your face heat up with a sudden blush, “No!! Purely to agree on the back story. But hey - we can just text about it if you’d prefer!” Embarrassed, you grabbed your bags, opened the car door and began to get out, but Billy grabbed your arm, “Hey, hey, sweetheart - I’m just kiddin’. Hold on an’ I’ll park up. We can walk up together.” You huffed slightly and closed the car door again, while Billy looked around for a parking space. Once parked, the two of you went up to your apartment and you unlocked the door, waving him inside and over to the sofa while you stashed the bags and headed to the kitchen area. “What would you like? Wine, beer or coffee?” “I’d better just have a coffee,” he said, “...don’t wanna get drunk and pass out in your apartment. Not a good look.” “I don’t see you as a ‘getting drunk’ kinda guy, Billy. You already told me you like to be aware of your surroundings.” He laughed, “You’re right, I don’t make a habit of gettin’ wasted.”
So you switched on your coffee machine and asked what kind of coffee he’d like, holding up a handful of different capsules. He strolled over to you, draping his leather jacket over the back of one of the high stools at your breakfast bar as he reached you. He leaned down slightly and looked at the selection you had in your hand, and you were suddenly very aware of the scent of his aftershave. “Whattya got there, then?” You took his hand and dumped them all in it, saying, “I’m just gonna fill up the water jug while you decide,” and moving swiftly away from him. You were finding it very difficult indeed to ignore the magnetic attraction he was exerting over you, but you really had to try harder as you were only going to end up getting hurt otherwise. He held out a capsule toward you, “Americano’s fine,” he said.
The two cups of coffee made a few moments later, you led him back over to the sofa and you both sat down at opposite ends. “Okayyyy,” said Billy, “....back story then?” You nodded, “Yeah. Nothing too fancy as the less details we have to remember the better.” “Good idea. We should probably add in some truth too. So.... we met through Karen & Frank?” “Yes, that’s a good start. Where did we meet and how long have we been seeing each other?” “Neighbourhood bar, and a coupla months?” “Okay, yeah. Actually is that about it? That was easier than I thought! Or...what else might they ask? Who is this person you’re avoiding - are they gonna be really nosy?” Billy snorted, “Oh yeah! Her name’s Caroline, a spoilt rich bitch. Her father owns a tech company and he supplies some of our equipment. She came along to one of the meetings recently and now she’s stalking me.” You grinned, “And that’s a problem for you? I would’ve thought you’d quite enjoy that, Billy.”
He grinned back, “Are you sayin’ I’m a player or somethin’?” “Well, aren’t you? I’m kinda getting that vibe.” Now he laughed out loud, “Maybe. But I like doin’ the chasing, sweetheart, not the other way round. If she ever got hold-a me, I’d never get outta her clutches.” “What - you wouldn’t? Not much of an ex-Marine then, are you?” He rolled his eyes, “Seriously, this woman’s so clingy she’d attach herself to me like a limpet mine. And I don’t like violence against women so I’d be in a difficult situation. Plus the main thing’s the business link with her daddy. His stuff’s good, I wouldn’t wanna have to replace him as a supplier. So you see, you’re doing me a solid here.” “When you say stalking you, do you mean literally?” “Well, like turning up at Anvil all the time to ‘check on the equipment’ and shit like that.” “So not outside the office then? I’m just thinking along the lines of her not seeing us around together before the event if she’s around you outside business hours. She might not buy it.” “As far as I know, only in office hours.”
“As far as you know? That’s not exactly reassuring if she’s as much of a stalker as you say she is.” He laughed, “No, I’m sure she’s not around apart from that.” “Okay, well is there anything else you can think of that she might ask?” He gave you a sly grin, “If we’ve slept together.” You got up and took your empty cup over to the kitchen sink, “Uh-huh.... well she can ask! We’ll just have to lie, won’t we?” You turned round only to find Billy invading your personal space again, and you moved back slightly in surprise. He followed, crowding you against the counter, dark eyes gazing into yours, “Uh... we don’t have to lie.” You leaned further back, your brain yelling ‘don’t give in to him!’ at you. “Billy... you suggested this whole thing and you also said ‘no strings’, remember? Well, if we did that... that would be strings, don’t you agree?” He reached round you and put his cup in the sink too, “Yeah, I guess so. Just thought we could make things look a little more.... authentic, y’know?” He turned and grabbed his jacket off the back of the stool, but then took you by surprise again by swooping in for a long kiss, pulling you against his body and his big hand sliding around the back of your neck. You pulled away, trying to catch your breath.
Those espresso-coloured eyes were gazing into yours, a lazy grin on his face. “Hey, you’ll need to get less jumpy when I do that else she’s definitely not gonna buy it.” He stood back from you, shrugging into his jacket, “Might need a bit more practice, sweetheart,” he smirked, “....so how about we meet up again tomorrow? We can learn a bit more about each other, as well as you getting more comfortable when I get physical with you,” and wiggled his eyebrows at you. Against your better judgement, you agreed and so he said he’d pick you up at four the next day.
Once he’d gone, you poured yourself a stiff brandy. You couldn’t deny you wanted to spend more time with him, much as you knew you were setting yourself up for a fall. Really... just what the hell did you think you were doing?
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
Billy was thinking the very same thing to himself as he drove away. He was enjoying those kisses way too much. But he was the one who’d suggested this whole fake relationship thing, and definitely with ‘no strings’. Because that was the Russo Way.
He’d better get his head back on straight, and stop thinking about the gorgeous woman in the apartment back there as anything other than a way to ditch the very irritating Caroline.
He also got the distinct feeling she’d marked him out as a player and wouldn’t want to get involved with him anyhow. Well, he was a player and he couldn’t deny that. Wasn’t sure he could ever see himself as a one-woman man. Caroline was attractive enough and in the normal way of things, he’d’ve taken her out maybe a couple of times, fucked and then forgotten her. But her father and Billy’s business relationship complicated things somewhat.
So yeah, he’d make sure she saw him with a lovely woman on his arm at the gala, kiss (and maybe fuck if he got lucky) the lovely woman at the end of the night and move right along. Apart from anything else, the fact that she was Karen’s friend complicated things way beyond what he wanted to get involved in, because he couldn’t afford to upset either her or her friend, Frankie’d kill him if he did.
Definitely better stick with the Russo Way. It had never failed him before, had it?
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
The next day, Billy glided the car to a stop outside her apartment block at 4 o’clock as promised, dropping her a quick text to announce his arrival. Soon, he saw her figure walking out of the main door and making her way towards him.
Damn! Mmm, she was looking good. Little pink sundress, short denim jacket, bare legs and low wedge pink sandals. Yeah, really cute. Smart and funny too. And sexy, of course. Very sexy. Totally fuckable. Completely and utterly fuckable. Woah - stop that Russo! Right now!
All these thoughts ran through his head in the 10 seconds it took her to reach the car.
He leant over and pushed open the passenger door for her, “Hi sweetheart.”
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
You’d noticed Billy’s eyes running over you as you went up to the car, and then spotted his tongue making a swift trip over his bottom lip as he greeted you. You got the feeling he was looking at you like you were a snack to be consumed. Determined to resist how attracted you felt to him, you hopped into the car and said Hi back. Billy’s big hand landed on your thigh as you fastened your seat belt, his long fingers sliding upwards. Batting them away, you continued clipping yourself in and he laughed, leaning across and pulling you to him, kissing you long and slow. Breaking apart, he said, “Remember we gotta practice, sweetheart,” grinning at you. “Mmmhuh,” you nodded, “I remember you saying that.” “Just relax! Get comfortable with me touchin’ and kissin’ you. We’re boyfriend and girlfriend after all.” “Mmmhuh,” you said again, and once more his hand found its way onto your thigh and began stroking, eventually inching upwards again.
This time, you decided to stay still, thinking that yes, you had better get comfortable with this if this whole stupid fake relationship thing was going to work. But when his hand parted your legs and one long slim finger swiftly made its way inside your panties and - without further warning - actually inside you, you jumped like a startled deer and squirmed away from him. “Billy!” you protested loudly, but he merely smirked victoriously at you and pushed a second finger inside you to join its cousin. You shoved at his resistant arm, “Stop it!” His mouth found yours and he began kissing you as his fingers moved steadily in and out of you then his thumb was on your clit, and he began massaging firmly. “Sssshhh, sweetheart, we’re just messin’ around,” you heard his low voice in your ear, “...this is high school stuff.” “But I didn’t say you could do this to me!” you snarled, trying to ignore how good he was making you feel, and you felt his fingers leave you. He sat back in his car seat, taking a tissue out of his jacket pocket and slowly wiping his fingers, looking across at you all the while with a contemplative look on his face.
“I’m sorry,” he said, but not sounding regretful at all, “I didn’t think you’d mind. Thought it’d loosen you up a bit like we said.” He smirked at you, “You can’t deny I got you wet, and I know you’re attracted to me. Thought you’d enjoy it.” Your mouth dropped open, “You arrogant fucker!” you exclaimed, “You know what, you can take your fake dating shit and shove it where the sun doesn’t fucking shine!” You jumped out of the car, slamming the door with an almighty bang behind you. Stomping back up to your apartment, you opened your front door and slammed it behind you too, angrily throwing your bag onto the sofa as you passed on your way to the kitchen. You took off your jacket and threw it onto a high stool, furious enough to take a bottle of gin out of the cupboard and grab a clean glass from the dishwasher. You were just taking a bottle of tonic water out of the fridge when there was a knock at your door.
Okay, well that was either your annoying across-the-hall neighbour... who complained about anything and everything... here to moan about the door-slamming, or else it was Billy. Whoever was on the other side of the door was going to be greeted by your frowning face, and you really didn’t give a shit which one it was. You dramatically swung open the door, and it was in fact Billy Russo who was confronted by your unhappy visage. He immediately held up his hands in a placatory gesture. “Look, I am really, truly, sorry. I ... can I come in and explain?” You turned on your heel and walked back to the kitchen, leaving him to close the door behind him and follow in your footsteps. “Want a drink?” He nodded, “I’d love a beer if you’ve got one, please.” You took a bottle of beer out of the fridge and handed it to him, then got a bottle top remover for him out of one of your drawers.
He popped off the cap then took a long swig, as he watched you prepare a G&T for yourself. You also took a big sip then leant back against the counter and regarded him with a steely gaze. “You said you wanted to explain.” He took another gulp of beer and began, “I.... look, I’m so sorry okay? I totally misread the situation.” Sipping your gin, you said, “I’ll say you did, Billy! I get the distinct impression you mistook me for one of the easy lays you no doubt pick up in bars. Is that how you treat your one-and-done’s, huh? Well, don’t try that shit with me, okay?” He looked over at you shamefaced and shrugged, “Uhhh...I ..uhh.. yeah, I guess I did.... look, I really am sorry, sweetheart. I can’t apologise enough, and I really didn’t mean to upset you.” You took another big hit of your gin, slightly - but only very slightly - mollified. “And as for your comment that I’m attracted to you...!!!” Momentarily you were speechless, unsure what you wanted to say or how to put it. Mainly because it was the truth, you acknowledged to yourself.
Before you could say anything, Billy held up his hands again, “I’m incredibly embarrassed about saying that. Really crass. And arrogant, as you said.” You noticed that his face had pinked up somewhat. “In fact just forget I said it,” he carried on. “Bit late for that now isn’t it! Did you say it because you’re used to women falling at your feet, Billy?”
He looked down at the beer bottle in his hand, waggling it back and forward before saying, “Yeah. If I’m honest, I don’t usually haveta try too hard.” His eyes met yours, “And if I’m bein’ even more honest, gotta admit I’m attracted to you. Like, really attracted. So, yeah - I was hoping for something more than just going to the charity event with you.”
You drew in a big breath. What? What did he just say to you? No. You mentally shook your head, and then realised you were actually shaking it. “Billy.... you’re a player, that much is blatantly obvious. Would you know what a relationship is if it came up and bit you on the ass? Something tells me you wouldn’t.” He had the grace to look guilty. You continued, “So here’s what we’ll do. If you still need me to come along to the gala, then I’ll do that. And then we’ll go back to being strangers. Okay?”
He twirled his beer bottle between his long fingers, and shrugged, “Okay, sweetheart. M’happy you’re still gonna help me out. But can’t we at least be friends afterwards? Reckon Karen ‘n Frank’re gonna be seeing a lot of each other so we’ll probably keep bumping into each other.” Your face softened into a smile, “Yeah, they like each other don’t they? You’re right, we probably will be spending some time together because of those two. Okay... friends, then.”
He smiled at you, approaching warily and sliding his hand round to the back of your head and up into your hair, pulling you closer. “M’gonna kiss you, s’that okay?” but being Billy, didn’t wait for your reply. His lips met yours in a gentler kiss than earlier, his fingers stroking the back of your neck. He moved his hips against yours, and you knew he’d done this so you’d feel his erection against your body. You moved sideways and pulled away from him, why did he have to make you breathless when you just wanted to be cool, calm and collected around him? He looked a bit crestfallen, but recovered swiftly and asked, “How about we order in some food and just spend some quality time together?” You sighed, “Okay, Billy, let’s do that. But no more groping or anything, okay?” He nodded, looking serious and miming a cross over his heart, “Promise.”
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
You pushed the pizza box away from you, “God, I’m stuffed.” Billy picked up his beer bottle and drank, giving a small delicate burp as he did so, “Me too.” Reaching over, he picked up the remote and began flicking through Netflix, “Whaddya wanna watch next?” he asked. “Mmmm, you pick a movie. But not one about war.” He laughed, “Oh don’t worry, I never watch war films, had enough-a that in real life.” Lying back and letting out a deep breath, you said apologetically, “I bet you did. Sorry.” Shrugging, he also lay back, his head turning towards you, “S’okay. We can talk about it sometime if you like. And about my less-than-perfect childhood. And some of my more recent fuck-ups.” He gave a bitter laugh, “I’m a fuckin’ train wreck, sweetheart - you’ve made the right decision, best you don’t get involved with me.” His eyes looked big and a bit glossy, and before you could help yourself you’d laid your hand on his shoulder, “I’m sure you’re not that bad, Billy.” He turned away from you, looking at the TV before selecting a sci-fi fantasy movie, “Oh believe me, I am,” he said in a low voice.
You shifted a bit closer to him on the sofa, “Don’t be so down on yourself, Billy. You’ve achieved a lot of things... got your own company, fancy car, fine suits, lots of money, prestige.” He grinned at you, “But all that doesn’t matter to you, does it?” You shook your head, “No, but they’re still achievements to be proud of.” His head dropped and some locks of hair fell over his forehead. “Thank you,” he mumbled, and you watched as your hand went of its own accord to his face and stroked the errant hair back off his forehead. His head swivelled towards you, dark eyes gazing into yours; he took hold of your arms and drew you against his chest. “Can we snuggle?” he asked you, then wrapped his arms right around you, before lying down and swinging his long legs up onto the sofa, pulling you with him. You snorted out a laugh, “Snuggle? That doesn’t exactly fit with your ex-soldier or current playboy personas!” “Aw, c’mon sweetheart, gimme a break - I’m tryin’ to be a well-behaved boy here!” You snuggled into his chest a bit, “Okay, but remember - no wandering hands!” He held up both hands, “Not wandering - look!” before placing them chastely on your arm and shoulder.
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
Your eyes opened, and you groggily looked around you, disorientated. Hearing soft little snores from beneath you, you raised your head to look at Billy’s sleeping face. Oh. You’d both obviously dozed off in front of the TV, the Netflix menu now on the screen. Moving slowly, you started to try and stand up but two hands went round your arms in a vice-like grip. “Where you off to?” said Billy’s deep voice. “Just...ummm... just...” you stuttered, but suddenly you were underneath him, his weight pressing you down as his mouth found yours in a hungry kiss. You knew you should resist but damn, he was a good kisser! Feeling yourself dissolve into the kiss, one of your hands moved up to his bristly jawline.
His kisses became more passionate and he pushed himself against you even more, his arousal very evident. You tried to ignore them but your feelings of desire for him were becoming overwhelming, and your arms went round his neck almost unbidden. He was smiling against your lips, and you heard, “Wanna sleep with me? D’you wanna?” Your treacherous mouth said “Yes!” in a breathy whisper, and that was all Billy needed to hear.
He picked you up in his arms, whispering “Where’s your bedroom?” You nodded towards its general direction and he carried you across the apartment and into your room. Setting you down, his fingers were immediately at the zip of your dress, pulling it down, pushing the fabric down then further down until your dress was round your ankles, before whipping it fully off and dropping it onto the floor. You watched him as his eyes roamed all over your body, taking in your lacy lingerie and moving the straps of your bra off your shoulders. “Mmmmm, sweetheart - wow - even better than I imagined,” he said hoarsely, his hands going round your back and unclipping your bra. He stripped it off you and dropped it, both hands immediately cupping your breasts and massaging firmly, thumbs running over your nipples as they peaked. Moving you backwards until your head hit the pillows, you felt his fingers pulling the fabric of your panties aside and suddenly the head of his cock was at your core and pushing inside you. “No time for foreplay, sorry,” you heard and you gave a deep groan when he kept going, feeling his balls brushing your pussy as he fully sheathed himself. His head went back and he gasped, “Fuck!” before he began to thrust. He lifted your legs and draped them over his hips, encouraging you to cross your ankles on his back to pull him even closer.
His mouth was everywhere on you, kissing you deeply one minute before his mouth went to one of your nipples, teasing it with his tongue while his thumb and fingers toyed with the other, then his mouth and teeth were on your neck and shoulders while he set a ferocious pace. A constant stream of low groans were leaving your lips as he moved on you, and you could hear him gasping and muttering words above you, not all of which you could catch, but you did hear “Uhhh, been wantin’ to do this to ya since the minute we met” between thrusts. You ran your hands over his chest and up around his neck, threading your fingers through his lush hair, and you felt him shiver as you pulled on it gently. His thumb was on your clit now, rubbing at you relentlessly and your orgasm washed over you like a wave. His teeth were fastened onto your shoulder and he bit down as you felt his body tense as he came. He lowered himself gently onto you before rolling off, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling as he got his breath back. “Wow,” he said quietly, before moving onto his side and gazing at you, running a finger gently along your jaw. “Yes, wow,” you replied, putting your hand on his bristly cheek.
“Well, if Caroline does ask if we’ve slept together, now we don’t have to lie,” smirked Billy. This instantly ruined the mood and you sat up, prior to wrapping one of the covers round you and getting out of bed. He looked a bit surprised, but you began moving away from the bed towards the bathroom. Returning a few moments later, you hesitated for a moment before climbing back into bed beside Billy, who was still lying there in all his naked glory. He immediately moved next you, his hands on your arm, “Did I say something wrong earlier? You were up and off like a ballistic missile.” You looked over at him, “A girl doesn’t exactly like to hear another one’s name getting mentioned just seconds after lovemaking.” A guilty look passed over his face, “Awww, shit!... I didn’t think, I’m really sorry... I was just so happy you slept with me, sweetheart.” He stroked your hair away from your face, “Forgive me? And my big clumsy mouth?” You huffed a bit but eventually nodded, not least due to the soft kisses he was peppering over your face and neck.
He breathed a sigh of relief, “I seem to spend all my time apologising to you,” he chuckled, “I’m really making a mess of this fake dating.” “Can’t argue with you there, Billy,” you agreed. “Look, I’m gonna try a lot harder, okay?” he said, running a finger along your arm. You sighed, “Okay... well here’s hoping it’ll be alright on the night.”
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
The rest of the week, you and Billy had traded phone calls and text messages but (to your secret disappointment) the two of you didn’t meet up. To your mind that could only mean that Billy, who’d admitted to you that he liked the thrill of the chase, had now already caught you so that was it as far as he was concerned. He’d said that his work had been crazy busy but you didn’t feel at all convinced by that.
Friday eventually rolled around, and you were glad you’d decided to take a half day off work to get ready. Karen had strolled up to your desk as you were packing up your stuff before leaving, and you recognised her ‘Serious Talk’ look on her face. She walked along to the elevator with you and followed you inside. “Y’know I hope you really enjoy your evening with Billy tonight, but....” she bit her lip before continuing, “...you know he’s a player, right?” She quickly put her hand on your arm as the elevator reached the ground floor, “I’m not trying to spoil your fun, honestly I’m not, but some of the things Frank’s let slip recently would make your toes curl. Billy’s totally ruthless when it comes to cutting women loose.” The elevator doors opened and you both walked out, with you saying, “Don’t worry Karen, I sussed that out the minute I saw him,” over your shoulder as you continued out into the main lobby. You stopped and turned to her, lowering your voice and continuing, “But I slept with him last weekend and just as expected, he’s avoided meeting up with me all during this week.” Her mouth tightened, and you knew you were in for a Page Lecture. “Gahhh! What were you thinking?! You’ve just reinforced his impression that he can pull any woman he wants and then disappear on her! I can’t believe you didn’t even wait for this gala thing tonight! You could at least have held off till then.”
“Yes, mom,” you sighed, then smiled at her. “But you know what Karen, he’s so hot I just couldn’t resist! And I knew exactly what his reaction would be, and he hasn’t disappointed. He’s been in touch obviously because we’ve got this thing tonight, but he’s been ‘too busy at work’ to meet up. I’m sure that in Russo-speak, that really means ‘too busy chasing tail’ but I’m cool with that. Like I said, it’s what I expected,” shrugging as you said this. “Hmmmm,” replied Karen, staring at you intensely as if trying to read your mind, “...well as long as you know what you’re getting yourself into.” “I do,” you reassured her, hugging her before walking away with a nonchalant wave.
Out on the street you exhaled a big breath. If only you truly believed that.
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
Billy pulled up outside her apartment block and, as before, texted her to say he was there.
He was disappointed that he hadn’t been able to meet up with her during the week, and was also aware she probably thought he was avoiding her now they’d slept together. But he’d truly been up to his ears in it at work, and he wasn’t yet established enough in the security market to turn down job offers. So he’d taken on probably a few more than he should have done, and both he and Frank had had to weigh in on a couple of them to make sure they were handled correctly.
So apart from calls and texts, he’d had to miss out on seeing her. In fact, all he’d been thinking of the entire week was the prolonged session they’d indulged in last weekend. Once he’d apologised for mentioning Caroline’s name after they’d first made love, (really smart move Russo, he thought to himself) there had been a whole night of energetic and very enjoyable sex. Then a shared shower late the next morning after she’d woken him up with a surprise and very welcome blow job. God, the things she could do with her mouth! He squirmed in his seat, starting to get hard just thinking about it. He couldn’t wait for another one of those, that was for sure. Tonight after the gala if he was lucky!
He saw the main door to her apartment block open and she started walking towards the car. Wish I could get a better idea of how she looked in her dress, he thought. Oh well, I’ll just need to wait till we actually get to the place.
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
You slid into Billy’s flashy car, tucking your feet in last in an effort to be elegant. He leaned over, grabbing the back of your neck and kissing you long and hard. You eventually shoved him away, exclaiming “Billy! My lipstick!” You peered at his face, “And you’re covered in it!”
He burst out laughing, “Well, hello sweetheart!”
You handed him a tissue whilst you began trying to repair the smudges around your lips. He dampened it on his tongue and then quickly rubbed the burgundy colour off his mouth. Once you’d fixed your face, you leant over towards him and his mouth headed to yours again but you pulled back. “I’m checking your shirt collar to make sure there’s none on there!” Chuckling, he started up the car, “I did wonder why you waited till you’d put your lipstick back on before kissin’ me again.” “You kissed me!” you protested. He just laughed and manoeuvred the car into the traffic stream.
His head then swung towards you, “If you say so, sweetheart! Hey, I’d say you look beautiful but I can’t get a proper look at you in the car. So wait a little while till we get there and then I can compliment you properly, okay?” You nodded, “Yeah, same. I can’t get a look at you either.” Another chuckle, “You can see as much of me as you want later tonight, sweetheart.” “You’re very sure of yourself, aren’t you?!” Billy’s hand stole onto your thigh and travelled higher. “Wearin’ panties?” You tolerated his wandering fingers, “Yes I am, Marine. Sorry to disappoint.” He shrugged, smirk firmly in place, “Fine by me. They’re not gonna stop me gettin’ to where I wanna be anyhow.” Somewhat surprisingly to you, his hand went back onto the steering wheel. “But I’m gonna wait till we’re alone later. See, sweetheart - I’ve learned my lesson!” “Glad to hear it!” you shot back at him, before looking out of the window at the passing streets.
After arriving and parking at the venue, one of the big downtown hotels, you and Billy made your way upstairs to the function room. Leaving your coats at the cloakroom, Billy twirled you round in front of him, looking you over slowly from top to toe. “You look gorgeous,” he said admiringly, “really beautiful.” “Thank you. Not so bad yourself, Russo.” He was in one of his bespoke suits and was looking edible. He mock-bowed then leant down and kissed you on the lips, and you reminded yourself to act naturally when he did that. You both began walking towards the sound of music and chatter, his hand straying down onto the top of your ass as you went. Karen’s voice rang in your ears about how much of a player he was, and once again you fought the instinct to swat his hand away. If you could just do your duty and get through tonight, then you could put yourself deep into protective mode over this handsome devil.
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
Several gin & tonics later, you were returning from the ladies’ room and heading back to where you’d left your ‘boyfriend’ at the bar, wondering how much more of this tedious event you could stand, when you heard a high-pitched voice trilling, “Oh Billy! There you are, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
Hahah! you thought, this must be the infamous Caroline! Well, at least this next part is going to inject some much-needed fun into the evening.
You could see a small brunette standing in front of Billy with her hands grasping his biceps and beginning to pull him towards her. He spotted you approaching over her shoulder and extricated himself from her clutches saying, “Caroline.... how nice to see you! Just in time for me to introduce you to my girlfriend...” “Girlfriend?!” She whirled round and met your eyes, her own narrowing as she looked you up and down in a flash. You continued walking towards the two of them, noting that she was pretty but was heavily made up; she really didn’t need to plaster it on like she had but - whatever, you thought. Billy moved past her to swiftly put his arm around your waist and draw you to him, introducing you at the same time. She nodded her head briefly at you, “Hi, I’m Caroline. A friend of Billy’s.” She emphasised the word ‘friend’. You beamed back a big smile at her, “Lovely to meet another of his friends,” you said, also emphasising the word. You felt Billy tense up a bit, but you thought that playing the jealous girlfriend might be a good way to go, especially when you noticed the little smirk on her face. You tugged on his arm, “C’mon Billy, you promised me a dance,” you said in a ‘little girl’ voice, which nearly made you heave quite frankly but you felt struck the right note.
Billy raised a hand vaguely towards Caroline as he said to you, “Yes I did, sweetheart. Let’s go. Bye, Caroline - good to see you,” and then gave you a long kiss as the two of you headed to the dance floor. Once Billy had you in his arms, you felt his lips next to your ear and he whispered, “So.... jealous girlfriend, huh?” You nodded, smiling up at him, “She’ll like the fact that I think she’s a threat. But as long as you keep up the PDA’s, I think she’ll buy it.” He immediately kissed you, the hand which had been on your waist surreptitiously sliding downwards at the same time. As you broke apart from the kiss, you caught sight of Caroline glaring at the two of you from a table near the edge of the dance floor. You ran your hand up onto Billy’s jaw before continuing to the back of his neck. You’d discovered during your night together that this was one of Billy’s weak spots, so you trailed your fingers over his skin and had him wrapped round your finger within seconds, just as had happened that other night. He pressed his body close against you, ensuring you felt how aroused he was. “When can we skip out of here?” he breathed to you, making you laugh. “I don’t know! It’s your event - when do you want to stay until?”
Before he could reply, you were aware of a figure next to you and a hand went onto Billy’s arm. “Mind if I cut in?” asked Caroline, giving you a nasty smirk. However it dropped off her face when Billy said hurriedly, “Sorry, Caroline - we’re just leaving,” and began leading you off the dance floor. “Oh, that’s such a shame,” you heard, and realised she was trailing after you and Billy as you left the dance floor. “I was so looking forward to hearing all about how you & Billy met.” You stole a quick glance at Billy before saying over your shoulder, “Through mutual friends.” Still following you both as you headed over to pick up your coats, she rattled out, “it’s just that I’m a bit surprised - it seems quite strange that Billy never mentioned a girlfriend before tonight.” Billy looked irritated but his face became blank as he turned slightly back towards her and replied, “Uh, I am right here y’know!.... well Caroline, we never spoke about our personal lives so it’s not that strange at all to be honest.” You’d reached the small counter by now and had handed over the tickets to the attendant, and while you’d hoped that Billy’s answer would have silenced her, Caroline continued, “So how long have you been dating?” You turned and stared at her, and found her already staring back at you, “Mmm, it’s about two months now, isn’t it Billy?” and moved your eyes to his. He glanced quickly behind him at her, “ Yes, sweetheart - a little over two months actually,” he turned back to you, smiling fondly, “and I gotta say, they’ve been two of the sweetest months of my life.” He leant down and kissed you full on the lips.
Caroline’s lip curled up at this and was still curling as you met her annoyed gaze once Billy’s lips left yours. “Well,” she began, but was then interrupted by a tall older man who came up to the three of you and placed a hand on Caroline’s shoulder. “Hello, Russo,” he said, shaking hands with Billy who greeted him with a “Hi, Mike,” as the older guy’s eyes wandered quizzically over to you. “And who’s this lovely young lady, then?” he asked but before either you or Billy could say anything, Caroline spat out, “His girlfriend, Daddy - imagine that!” However her father merely gave you a friendly grin while Billy introduced you. After a quick handshake, he commented that it was a real shame that you were both leaving before he could buy you a drink. But Billy said firmly, with a mischievous look at you, “Sorry, Mike.... we’re... uhhh... quite anxious to get home.” Mike laughed knowingly while you heard a loud ‘tut’ from his daughter. You smiled brightly at both of them, “Well.... lovely to meet you and hope you enjoy the rest of the evening. Bye!” Taking your coat from the attendant, Billy helped you into it before putting on his own and the two of you said final goodbyes to Mike and Caroline before making your escape.
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
“Thank god that’s over!” you breathed out a sigh of relief as you settled back into your seat, while Billy switched on the car’s powerful engine and it purred into life. “You didn’t enjoy it?” he grinned, “...even with such a charming boyfriend attending to your every need all evening?!” You laughed, “Sorry Billy, no I didn’t. I hated every second of it! But I think we accomplished the mission, don’t you?” Turning your head and watching his profile as he reversed the car out of the parking space, you asked, “D’you want me to get the dress dry-cleaned and you can take it back to the store? I mean I’ve only had it on for a few hours and I managed not to spill anything down it.” He glanced over at you, a strange look in his eyes. “No, I don’t want you to clean it and return it. It’s yours to keep. And yes, we did achieve our goal.” He started driving away from the hotel, and you realised it was the wrong direction for your place. You’d never been to his apartment but had a feeling that’s where you were heading.
“Where are you going, Billy? I just want dropped off at home so I can get out of all of this and relax.” He laughed, and for some reason you thought he sounded a bit pissed off. “Ahh no, that’s not happenin’, sweetheart,” he said, looking across at you, eyes gleaming with something but you weren’t sure exactly what. Determination? Desire? “We’re headin’ to mine. And yeah, you’re gonna be gettin’ out of those clothes, don’t worry.” “Look, Billy,” you said, feeling a bit uneasy for some reason, “...we’re done here, okay? We’ve already slept together, you got what you wanted so now you move on, correct? That’s your usual M.O. isn’t it? You made that obvious this week. Don’t worry, I got the message loud and clear. I’m not some clingy desperate woman that’s gonna keep chasing after you. I knew what the deal was with you the minute I set eyes on you. So.... just turn around and take me home.” You’d been staring at the road ahead but were aware of him shaking his head, “No.” You looked across at him, “No? What, you’re kidnapping me now?” “You can think of it that way if you like, sweetheart. I knew you’d think I was avoidin’ you this week, but I wasn’t. I’m not ready to let you get away just yet. We’re gonna go to mine, and you’re gonna spend the night on your back - and in various other positions - cos I need another night of sex with you.”
“And what if that’s not what I want? What if I don’t want to be used like a fuck toy before you disappear over the horizon? Doesn’t it matter to you what I want?” He chuckled, and you felt a little shiver of fear run through you, “Not right now, no. Because this is all I’ve been thinkin’ about the whole week. And because you’re sayin’ one thing, but you mean another.” “Really?! That’s what you think?” you scoffed, shaking your head, “You’re unbelievable, you know that? The level of arrogance....!” He pulled the car over into the inside lane and then turned into an underground car park. He killed the engine, and in the sudden silence you heard him say in a low voice, “Call it arrogance if you like. I call it knowing what I want and makin’ sure I get it.” He released his seat belt and got out of the car, coming round and opening your door before taking hold of your arm and pulling you out of it. He locked the car with a bleep of the remote on his keychain, then dragged you - firmly but not roughly - over to an elevator which he unlocked with a key before calling it down. Once it arrived, he hustled you inside and once the doors closed, his mouth was instantly on yours. He kissed you roughly, open-mouthed with teeth and lips and tongue all involved. His hands were undoing the buttons on your coat and then were inside it, immediately going to your breasts.
You struggled with him, trying to push him off but he continued kissing you, and you heard his voice telling you to just admit you wanted it. The awful thing was, you did want him and it annoyed the hell out of you. However his current attitude was also annoying the hell out of you so you continued to push at his muscled, toned body to get him off you. But you were no match for the ex-Marine and you heard a ‘ting’ and the elevator doors opening as Billy continued to kiss and grope you. He pushed you firmly out of the lift, keeping hold of your arm and propelling you towards a door - the only door, you noticed - and then into the apartment after he unlocked the door. He slammed it behind him then was on you in a flash, grabbing your bag and throwing it onto the sofa before stripping off your coat and dropping it on the floor. You were aware of being in a large open-plan space with floor-to-ceiling windows and trendy furniture, before you were scooped up as easily as if you were a throw cushion and carried into an equally large bedroom. He kicked the door shut behind him and dumped you rather unceremoniously on the bed, stripping his clothes off in a matter of seconds and letting them fall where they may. Then he was back on you, flipping you over and unzipping your dress in one quick motion. He stripped it down off your shoulders, turned you back over and pulled it off you. You looked up at him, finally finding your voice, “Billy! Stop it.” He shook his head, “Nah, not happenin’ sweetheart. We’re gonna have sex now.” You opened your mouth but nothing would come out. Why couldn’t you say anything else?
Because you do want it, said a sly voice in your head. And whilst the caveman routine might not be the most appealing of Billy’s wooing techniques, he’d excited you beyond belief and you could feel how damp your panties were. You’d told yourself before the evening started that you weren’t going to have sex with him that night, but at the same time had perversely hoped that it would in fact happen. You were absolutely furious with yourself but at the same time, totally conflicted and unable to ignore the desire you felt for him.
You felt his fingers fumbling a bit at your back and then your bra was dramatically whipped off and thrown across the room. His mouth and hands were immediately on your breasts, fingers massaging and toying with one nipple while he licked the other, his tongue roughly raking over its peak and surrounding skin before he started to suck and bite at it, enough to make you squeal but not hard enough to cause you real pain. Then he swapped and your other breast came in for the same treatment. You felt his fingers sliding down your body and pulling at your panties, after a few seconds he then sat up and stripped them off you. They also joined your bra across the other side of the room. He lowered himself onto you, hands parting your legs and you knew he was guiding himself inside you. His hard length pushed into you and you felt the stretch much more than you had the first time you’d had sex with him. Of course he was in a more of a rush this time, seemingly desperate to have sex with you, judging by the way he’d thrown you down, ripped your clothes off and immediately got between your legs.
He slid his hands under your knees and lifted your legs up until your ankles were on his shoulders, deeply thrusting into you as he did so, and you heard yourself give a loud groan. He gave a long, low groan himself as he picked up his pace, and you heard his whispered words next to your ear, “You like that, sweetheart? Feel good?” “Yes!!!!!” you gasped, hating yourself for admitting it but it was the absolute truth. He kissed you passionately, hands running up and down your legs and onto your body as he thrust hard into you, mouth moving to your neck and collarbone, nipping at your skin then licking where he’d lightly bitten you. You climaxed first, Billy’s thumb having found its favourite place on your clit, and you’d dug your nails into his shoulders before running your hands up into his hair and pulling it. Hearing his answering chuckle, his hips cannoned into yours a final few times before you felt him release into you, and he sank down heavily on top of you, panting and trying to get his breath back. He moved off you and laid on his back, seemingly exhausted by his over-eager exertions. His head tilted towards you, “I’m not finished with you yet, sweetheart. Need more.”
You propped yourself up on an elbow, “Just what the fuck is all this neanderthal stuff about, Billy?” He sighed and looked back up at the ceiling. “Remember you said I wouldn’t know what a relationship was if it bit me on the ass?” “Yeah?” “You’re right. I’ve never experienced a loving relationship in my life. I dunno what love is, really.” Then out it all spilled.... his abandonment as a very young kid, the group homes, the abuse, the stigma. How he’d signed up for the Marines as soon as he was old enough, got a business degree before shipping out, how Frank had his back almost from day one. The dark eyes eventually looked into yours, “So just confirmin’ - I’m officially shit at relationships.” You nodded thoughtfully, “Well... now I understand things a little bit better, Billy. You discard women after a very short time as a self-defence measure, because you have a fear of being abandoned again. Ditch them before they can ditch you, right? Because you still have self-esteem issues, deep down underneath that confident exterior. It’s hard to overcome years of being looked down upon and sidelined.” You reached out and ran your fingers through his small patch of chest hair. He flinched slightly so you withdrew your hand, but his own hand went out and he laid it on top of yours for a brief moment.
Then he sat up a bit and stretched, laughing as he did so, “Told you, you’re in the wrong job, sweetheart.” He leaned back onto the pillows, carefully looking away from you, “Guess I didn’t do a very good job of lettin’ you know I want you to stay around and be with me?” You sat up, pulling one of the sheets over you, “What?” you asked. He looked over at you again, “All of this,” his hand waved vaguely between you and him, “This is me tryna let you know I really like you. I honestly missed bein’ with you during the week. An’ I was really busy, me and Frank, all week - I wasn’t tryna avoid you, okay? All I could think about was the night we spent together, how I want that to be a regular thing. Spend time with you.”
You started chuckling to yourself before it bubbled up into real laughter. He’d been looking down and fidgeting with the covers but now his head swung up and his eyebrows pulled into a frown. You calmed down a little and reached out to him, softly stroking his shoulder, “Billy... I’m not really laughing at you. Well, I suppose I am but only because I’m really surprised. That’s not how guys usually let girls know they’re interested! - kidnapping them and telling them that they will have sex with them.” Billy grunted, “Yeah, I realise that. It’s what I’m tryna tell you, sweetheart. I’m shit at this kinda stuff.”
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
Sunday lunchtime, you met up with Karen who was gagging to know what had happened on Friday night. You dutifully recounted everything, even Billy’s metamorphosis into caveman as you left the hotel. Karen’s expression got more and more incredulous and as you drew to a close with his admission of being completely crap at all things relationship-related, she finally said, “Fuck! That’s unbelievable. So how did you leave things? You kick him to the curb?”
You took a sip of your G&T, and smiled back at her, “He wants me to teach him what a real relationship is all about.”
“And you’re prepared to take a chance on him and show him, are you?” You nodded, “Yeah I guess I am, Karen. I know it sounds crazy, but he wants to try. And I’d like to try. So we went from fake to genuine as of Friday night.”
She chuckled, shaking her head and sipping her drink before saying, “Well, you’re a glutton for punishment, I’ll say that for you. And I wish you the best of luck trying to tame that bad boy.” She lifted her glass and you clinked yours against hers, “Thanks, Karen. I’m just gonna take it one day at a time. If it doesn’t work out...” you shrugged, “...at least I gave it a shot.” She put her hand over yours, “Do you think he’ll keep it in his pants? He’s used to putting it about all over town,” squeezing your hand, “...sorry to have to say that honey, but it’s true.” You nodded, “Yeah I know, and all I can say is he’s promised he won’t be doing that from now on. But if I get even a whiff of another woman’s perfume off him, I will be kicking him to the curb faster than he can say ‘it’s not what you think, sweetheart’, believe me! And I’ve told him that too, in no uncertain terms.” She nodded, “Well, you’ve given him fair warning so if he fucks up, that’s definitely on him.”
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
Frank threw his head back, giving a great belly laugh which went on for a lot longer than Billy Russo thought it should do. After a few moments, Frank’s face had gone beet red and tears were squeezing out of the corners of his eyes. Billy folded his arms across his chest, sitting back in the diner booth and scowling at Frank, “Okay, okay, Frankie - enough already,” he grumbled as Frank continued to laugh. Eventually Frank calmed down enough to speak, “Russo! I don’t believe it, I really don’t. Does that girl know what she’s letting herself in for?! She must be missing a few rounds out of her ammo clip.” Billy pulled a face, “Look... I like her, okay? She’s gonna teach me what a proper relationship’s like. She’s willin’ to give me a chance, so cut me some slack over here, will ya?” Frank took a big pull at his beer, “Oh Russo, how the fuck ya gonna keep it in your pants?” (unknowingly parroting Karen’s very same comment to her friend). Billy shrugged, “Look...I will, I tell ya. I mean it, I only want her. The sex is....” he made a chef’s kiss hand gesture, “....and she doesn’t take any of my shit, either. I really like her, Frankie. I think I’m ready to...” “Settle down? Really, Bill - are you? Cos if you fuck this up, you’ve got Karen to deal with as well as your girl.”
Billy took a hit of his beer, “You think I don’t know that? And I’d get a ton of crap from you too, cos Karen’d be upset. You like her, dontcha?” Frank’s cheeks went a slight shade of pink, “Well, yeah. I guess I do.” Now it was Billy’s turn to laugh, “You guess you do? Frankie, you’re like a teenager with a major crush every time your phone rings! ‘Ooh, it’s Karen!’” he said, the last bit in a high-pitched voice. “I do not talk like that!” Frank growled at him, “And you better spend your energy learning how to treat a woman properly, rather than ripping the shit outta me, Russo!”
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
Your phone dinged and you picked it up, seeing a text notification from Billy on the screen. Turning your phone briefly towards Karen to show her this, you clicked on it and then smiled as you read it. Showing the message to her, she also smiled, “Wow, seems like he’s definitely trying!” You agreed, “I do believe he is!” Maybe this crazy relationship thing you and Billy had agreed to embark on did have a chance of working out after all. You definitely still had your misgivings - does a leopard (or panther) really change its spots? - but you were willing to give it a try as long as Billy stuck to his end of the bargain. No other women, no lying, spending a lot of quality time together... let’s just see how all that goes, you thought. Re-reading the text, it made you smile once more.
Billy’s text said simply, “I’m missing you, sweetheart. Come over to mine, I’ll cook you dinner.”
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
(My photo edit)
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
Tags: @blackbirddaredevil23 @galaxyjane @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @ourloveisforthelovely @swthxrry
(Using D&D’s taglist, if you’d prefer to be removed, just let me know!)
»»————————————-———- ⚜ ———————————-————-««
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CHAPTER I
Ramshackle Dorm - Birthday Party Venue
Kore: Woah, to think the ghosts would go all out like this just for today! Even though I told them that they didn't have to bother with it, they wouldn't listen, at all... It's... It's kind of embarrassing to be fussed over like this! If it was Grim I would have understood but this, uh...
Ah! And I'm supposed to have a guest over today as well! Hm, I guess some tea should be in order... maybe some cakes as well... I wonder if there's any sugar left...
Ace: Yo!
Kore: Ah, just a moment- Oh, it's just you, Ace.
Ace: Ha? What's that supposed to mean? 'It's just you'? It's super rude to greet your dear guest like this, you know?
Kore: Is that so? But calling you a guest is...
Ace: What's that?
Kore: Hm...
Ace: Well, doesn't matter because my feelings were hurt either way! So I'll help myself to this krumkake to make myself feel better! Let's dig in~
Kore: Hey, that- Aaah, that was meant to be for Grim. He kept complaining all day yesterday that he should have a cake all to himself too since it's a special day so I woke up extra early just to make it for him. Now he's gonna be mad...
Ace: Haa? A whole cake just for that furball? You've got to be kidding me!
Kore: What are you talking about? You know how much he likes krumkake.
Ace: Nah, I doubt there's really anything that guy won't eat... But that's not the point. You're spoiling him too much. He's gotten really fat, you know?
Kore: It's fine. I still make sure he exercises and he looks cute round like that too, so it's not a problem.
Ace: No, I definitely still think there's something wrong here. Mainly with your head.
Kore: Haaaaaaa, you wanna pick a figh-
Ace: Oh, I almost forgot! Here you go!
Kore: ... What's this?
Ace: Isn't it obvious?
Kore: Well... Huh? Wait a minute- That can't-!
Ace: Ta-da! It's a limited edition Griffons varsity jacket that's been all the rage with Magift meatheads like you~
Kore: No way!! This is- This is-
Ace: Cool, righ- Hey!! Don't jump on me like that! You almost knocked me off the chair!
Kore: Sorry, hahaha! I was so happy I just couldn't contain myself! To think that I would be able to actually get my hands onto something so valuable!
Ace: Yeah, we figured you'd like i-
Kore: This season has really been a blessing from above for them, you know? Everybody is in top shape and playing at their best! I heard their new manager actually made them go through this super difficult training regime that has been working wonders for them. Though it's only speculation so far!
Ace: Uh, Kor-
Kore: If you ask me, it's definitely also thanks to those new brooms that they ordered for the team. The wood is apparently from the Valley of Thorns and super-resistant so they go all out without worrying about breaking them. For the moves that the team is pulling, they really need that propulsion time! Even a second helps when you're in a headlock. I remember back in the vs Mandrakes game that they switched brooms in between-
Ace: Heeeeey! You Magift boar woman! Can you hear me?
Kore: Wh-Why are you yelling like that?! I'm right next to you!
Ace: Haaaa, when you start talking about Magift you might as well be in a completely different world... No wonder they all think of you as the Magift Encyclopedia. I bet you have hundreds of useless pieces of information like that stuck in your head.
Kore: You-! Huh? What's this?
Ace: A-Ah! That!
Kore: It's rice pudding- Ah! It's homemade from the Mountains!
Ace: Hm? Ah, ye-yeah... That came with the jacket...
Kore: Eh? They put pudding in jackets when they sell them?!
Ace: O-Obviously! Don't tell me you didn't know? Bwahaha, man, you sure are clueless...
Kore: ... It's my favourite flavour too...
CHAPTER II
Ace: Alright, next to the first question!
Kore: Eh?! Question?! Is this a quiz of some kind?!
Ace: I guess you could think of it like that, so anyway- Your first question as today's birthday girl issssss: "If you were stuck on a deserted island, who would you take with you?" Hm, here it says that you can't pick members of your own dorm, but given that you guys don't even have a dorm, I'm not sure that the restriction applies. Not that it matters since you wouldn't choose Grim anyway, right?
Kore: Huh? Why not?
Ace: You're serious?! You'd pick that furball?! Hey, we're talking about a deserted island here so think carefully! Don't you want to get off it?!
Kore: Well, obviously I would... But...
Ace: But?
Kore: I can do that on my own.
Ace: Huh?
Kore: Survival is all about securing shelter, food and formulating an escape plan. If it's a deserted island I assume there would be some fauna and animals too, so we could feed ourselves through fruit gathering and hunting. It might be hard if we don't have any tools, however, but I think Grim's claws would be sharp enough to cut through the skin and meat fairly easily. I make sure he takes good care of them after all.
Ace: I-I see...
Kore: If there's no drinkable water then we'll have to boil some from the sea in order to deal with the thirst. Grim's flames, when properly utilized, would be able to do such a thing. Not to mention that he could start fires to keep us warm at night and to cook food to sustain us! Also, it could be a great emergency signal if we end up at sea and need rescuing.
Ace: You want to use him as a flare?!
Kore: That sounds so mean! I would only do that as a last resort, however! Grim's pretty sensitive about having his belly scratched so I wouldn't do anything to make him uncomfortable like that!
Ace: Haaaa, I get it, I get it! So you're saying that the furball has his practical uses too. But I can't help but worry about some flaws...
Kore: Flaws?
Ace: No matter how much you feed that glutton, his stomach will never be full, you know! Whatever provisions you managed to gather, he's sure to inhale them with the first occasion!
Kore: Wah- That's a horrible thing to say! There's no way my Grim is so selfish!
Ace: My Grim?! What is he?! Your child?! And he's totally selfish, you know!!
Kore: HAAAAA?! ARE YOU REALLY PICKING A FIGHT WITH ME?!
Ace: Ca-Calm down!! I take it back, ok?! You can bring the furball with you!
Kore: Hmph.
Ace: Seriously, getting this angry over that cat...
Kore: Isn't that normal? Grim is my special person, after all!
Ace: SPECIAL PERSON?!
Kore: The person you care for a lot, like they're part of you, right? Like Cay-senpai said!
Ace: I-I see, so that's...
Kore: Being on a deserted island isn't ideal, but at the end of the day I know I can be ok on my own. Farmwork, housework - those are things that I'm used to from the Mountains. Life isn't so easy back home, but we all make do with what we can - magic or no magic. Even if I'm stuck in a bad situation, I can manage to get through so I don't need anybody else.
Well, that's what I thought before I came to this place anyway...
Ace: ...
Kore: Besides you're wrong about something!
Ace: Huh?
Kore: In order to survive it's not just physical attributes that are important, but mental ones as well. And in that case, Grim has the real trump card!
Ace: He-He does?!
Kore: Mm! You see, Grim, he... has the cutest paws and the fluffiest fur in the world!
Ace: HUH?!
Kore: Mm! Every time I feel like giving up or am reaching the end of the rope, all I'd have to do is give his paw pads a little squeeze or lay on his tummy and my mood would instantly clear up again! In a situation full of despair like that it would make a world of difference, you know?
Ace: SO HE'S THERE JUST FOR MORAL SUPPORT?!
Kore: Well, that too! It's important after all!
Ah, this pudding is really good actually...
CHAPTER III
Ace: Haaaa, I give up... Your boar mind is way too difficult to understand...
Kore: HUH?!
Ace: Anyway, let's get on with our next question and- Ah.
Kore: Hm? What is it? You suddenly stopped in the middle of the sentence. Did the falcon get your tongue, hehe?
Ace: It's a cat, not a falcon! And I only stopped because- uh...
Kore: What?
Ace: "You're offered the chance to pick another dorm, which one would you choose?"
Kore: ...
Ace: I swear, that Headmaster doesn't even think of these questions at all...
Kore: Yeah, there's no way I can answer that...
Ace: I figured. So instead! "Please share your opinions on the dorms!"
Kore: Ah!
Ace: Nice, right? You can definitely count on me when it comes to quick thinking, you know?
Kore: ... I guess.
Ace: You guess?!
Kore: I'll start with Diasomnia then!
Ace: Hey, don't ignore-
Kore: Hm, I'm not really sure about the atmosphere there but- Don't you think that their interior decor is pretty fancy? I haven't seen stuff like that in magazines for quite a while, so I feel like it's definitely something that must have required a lot of work! It's kinda dreary though, what will the windows not letting enough light and the greenery around it could stand to be looked after better, hm...
Ace: So you're only interested in the decor, huh? Alright, what about Ignihyde?
Kore: It's too technological.
Ace: Huh, I guess that you're right. For somebody like you, it would really be a struggle living there...
Kore: ...
It's even more depressing than Diasomnia, so I feel like I would be stuck in a bad mood without enough sunlight, you know? Though I must admit, it really is super clean inside! That's a very important detail! Clean homes are necessary for good health!
Ace: There you go again, sounding like a mom... Next is Pomefiore!
Kore: IT'S SUPER FLASHY!
Ace: I know~?
Kore: No, no, you don't get it! It's so flashy it actually scares me! All that pomp and glamour! The rugs themselves look like something from the fall collection that sold out about twenty years ago and the chandeliers are bound to be at least four times Theo's salary! Walking through those hallways is like stepping on opulence! A continuous loop of flashiness!
Ace: HEY! Get a hold of yourself! Let's go over to- Ah, Scarabia...
Kore: It's so hot there!!
Ace: Oh, yeah, you're super weak to heat so you'd definitely hate it there. Right?
Kore: Mm, hate is... I think that if it was the old me, I would never have even stepped in there. But now I feel like... Yeah! I definitely think that I can give it another try! Scarabia is pretty rich too, but it feels more homely? There's a lot of people gathered around and there are banquets and feasts pretty often too. It's always lively and warm... In a way, I imagine that's what a home would feel like...
Ace: ...
Kore: I can't say the same for Octavinelle however. Hmph!
Ace: Bwahaha, that's true. It really feels like you'd get scammed in there pretty quick.
Kore: Not even that! But building a dorm underwater? I admit the decor is pretty nice and classy, but the atmosphere is too cold! There's a lot of types that I can't get along with at all so it would definitely be a miserable time for me. No, I definitely don't want to set foot there ever again!
Ace: I totally get it~ All that commotion after the exams was enough for me too. Guess the same goes for Savanaclaw too, then?
Kore: ...
Ace: HA?!
Kore: I-I refuse to believe that anybody who loves Magift is a bad person!
Ace: There's that meathead in you talking again! Are you seriously that obsessed with it?! I feel like there's a sickness that applies in this case!!
Kore: He-Hey!! That's way too- I understand that what they did was bad, and I definitely haven't forgiven Kingscholar-senpai yet, but there are definitely good points to them as well! I think!
Ace: So you're not even sure?!
Kore: A-Anyway, as for Heartslaybyul-
Ace: Don't go changing the subject!
Kore: - if I had to pick that would be my favourite.
Ace: Huh?
Kore: I love Scarabia too, a lot, but at the end of the day all that rich atmosphere is scary. I really don't feel like I would belong there at all. I'd stick out like a sore thumb among everybody else - more than usual at the very least. But in Heartslaybyul, even if Rosehearts-senpai is strict, I feel like everybody is sort of content with the oddness. There's not much that stands out about it, but I think that's what makes it so appealing, you know?
Ace: ... So... what you're saying... Is that we're a shabby dorm full of weirdoes?
Kore: I-I wouldn't go that far...
Ace: But that's the gist of it, isn't it?!
Kore: Ummmmm...
Ace: ... Alright, I get it.
Kore: Huh?
Ace: You know, it just so happens that there's one more thing I have to tell you about.
Kore: One more thing?
Ace: Yup! You see, there's this tradition where the presenter has to give the 'gift of fortune' in order to make sure this ends up being a great birthday! And it just so happens that you're lucky enough to have me here today to deliver the goods~
Kore: Huh? What are you-
[SPLATTER]
Kore: ...
Ace: BWAHAHA, I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU JUST STOOD THERE LIKE THAT!
Kore: ...
Ace: Oh man, the look on your face is hilarious! Oh, let me take a quick picture to show the others too!
Kore: ...
Ace: Ok, so then- He-Hey! Don't- AUGH! MY FOREHEAD!
#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland oc#kore hightower#twist oc#twist#twisute oc#twisute#ace trappola#heartslaybyul#birthday event
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shortcut extended
college!yamaguchi x f!reader
sum: req - can you do a continuation of “shortcut” when y/n and tadashi get home?
cw: 18+ minors dni, nsfw, smut, overuse of the nickname “puppy”, oral (female receiving), fingering, slight breeding kink (see first part), (almost) creampie eating (but not really idk), pussyjob, reader overstimulation, unprotected sex, squirting, toy use, slight dacryphilia
wc: 1.6k
a/n: i hope this was good, i honestly hit so many roadblocks while writing this and redid it so many times :’) also i will edit later im sorry in advance for errors
Yamaguchi’s hand that was clenched around your thigh was not helping you keep still. The shortcut back to your shared apartment was faster but far bumpier. Each little pothole jostling your knees that ached from being held together. When you glanced over at him the scarlet stain on his cheeks didn't disappoint. He was enjoying your current state just as much as you were, thoughts fully occupied with the fact that his cum was stuffed in your cunt.
Upon arriving home, you hoped out of the car and he was immediately there, already dragging you up the steps to the door. Forced to jog to keep up, you felt a thick drip escape and rub between your thighs.
He slammed the door behind you, bringing you in for a harsh kiss. hands clawed at your back, making you arch against him. His cock, hard again, poked against you as you sighed into his lips.
"Wanna feel?" you ask him, silently pleading that he'll say yes. You take his wrist into your hand and push it toward the hem of your dress while he grins at you.
"Did you make a mess?" He scoffs with his fingers already tracing up your thighs. Your legs part so he can reach up. "You're all sticky, puppy, you should really get washed up now."
His fingertip brushes against your sensitive clit and you jolt. The sweet squish as he pushes a digit into you is glaringly loud in the silent room. He gleams at the feeling of his still warm cum leaking out of you.
“Why don’t you clean me up later, when we’re finished?” You challenge lightly.
He chuckles kindly, the lust-filled spark in his eyes dissipating into something a little softer for a moment. With gentle hands, he brought your face close to peck you on the tip of your nose and rest his forehead against yours.
“You’re assuming you get my cock again?” Soft lips brush against yours with his words.
You reach forward enough to roughly palm at his already hard bulge through his pants. “I know I am.” It’s impossible to stop from smiling as his eyebrows knit. His hand wraps around your wrists to pull your hand away and drag you to the couch just past the entryway.
“What happened to my sweet, little, oblivious puppy, huh?” He groans, pulling you into his lap. Before you can answer he’s already stripping your dress over your head. His lips messily attach to your neck, holding you down by your bare hips.
“I know when you want me, Tadashi. Don’t really pay attention to anyone else.” You say through breathless sighs. Desperate to see more of skin, your own hands travel up his sweater. He pulls away from you for just a moment to let you pull it off him. As soon as it’s gone, dips his head down to your breasts, taking your nipple between his teeth. “Aah, ‘dashi, wait… don’t wanna make a mess on your pants.” With your legs spread over his toned thighs you can feel slick start to pool out between your legs.
You glance down, eyeing the wet patch where your cunt had rested against his bulge. He leans back, unbuttoning and peeling his pants down, while you sit up just enough for him to kick them off with his underwear.
“Better, puppy?” His cock nestles between your damp, throbbing heat, lips reattaching to your body.
“Uh-huh,” you mutter, rutting against him with the help of his hands that guide your hips. He moves you so your sitting on the couch and he kneels on the ground between your thighs. Cool air hits your cunt as his hands push open your legs. Teeth drag up the sensitive skin on the inside your thighs as he draws closer and closer to you.
“So wet you don’t even have any of my cum left,” he pouts up at you before kissing your clit, “Next time, keep your word, puppy.” Before you can respond his tongue is lapping and pressing into your tight hole. He lifts your knees over his shoulders, pressing deeper against you. His tongue circles you clit, moaning with each little pant and twitch you give him. The vibrations and his tongue tighten the coil in your stomach. He knows your body so well he has you cumming on his tongue in minutes.
Deprived of a good orgasm earlier, this one hits you like a ton of bricks. You whimper out his name, hips bucking against his face while he laps up all you have to give him. His fingers press into your still pulsing entrance, spreading you while he turns his attention to your thighs for a moment.
Just as the haze from your high is dissipating he’s sucking on your clit again. “Mmm, taste so good, puppy.” His word reverberate through your head as you slump back into the cushions. The next one takes a little longer, but soon enough that same coil has wound back up and you’re at the edge.
“Gonna cum!” You squeal as he curls and pumps his fingers into you. They brush purposefully against the delicate, spongey spot just inside of you, urging you to cum again.
“Go ahead, cum on my face.” He groans, keeping his eyes hardened on the your already exhausted expression. You can’t help but hump against his face as you come undone under his mouth once again. “Good girl.”
With a small, dark chuckle he gets back up on the couch and pulls you over his lap again. He spreads your aching slit to sit just over his hard cock. Your clit brushes against his pink cockhead, sending a small jolt through your body.
“S-sensitive, ‘dashi…” you slur out, mind reeling.
“Oh, I know, puppy,” he coos, “but you can give me another one, right?” His tone is gentle, but demanding.
“Yeah,” you pant out, trying to grind yourself against him. You want to cum again, but the sensitivity is sending little tears to the corners of your eyes. Your sensitive clit drags against the edge of his head over and over, desperate for release. He’s just barely guiding your hips to help you along as he stares up at your pretty form.
“Shh, shh, you can do it, puppy.” He whispers, wiping a stray tear from your face. You hadn’t even realized you were crying until he had spoken up. Even so, his words drive you to rut against him just the slightest harder. Your thighs burn from the motion, but you’re getting closer and closer with every movement.
When Yamaguchi’s hands leave your hip to massage your chest, you know you’re almost done. He can feel you getting close to with how your little motions had gotten sloppier and rougher. His fingernails dig into your waist to back from cumming as he feels your little hole flutter against his length. You pull him close, sighing into his neck, as your body twitches against his.
“Good girl.” He strains out, pushing your exhausted body over to lay out on the couch. He kisses you on the cheek and hops up. “I’ll be right back, puppy, keep your fingers right here,” he says guiding your hand to your entrance, “and I’ll be right back.”
You nod, unable to really speak, and slowly pump yout fingers into yourself. Even at a steady pace you were sure he could hear the wet noises from across the apartment. You’re eyes flutter shut in the moment of respite right before he bounds back into the living room and straddles you. He tosses something hard onto the floor beside the furniture, but you don’t have a chance to look before he’s moving your hand away and lining himself up.
With the amount of slick between your thighs he slips in fairly easily, but your tight hole clenches down on him. Although he had stretched you out no more than thirty minutes ago, the stretch burns again. You say nothing, but whimper quietly below him.
“I know, but you can take it, c’mon puppy.” He presses a sloppy kiss into your neck and pushes in the rest of the way. Thankfully, he allows you a moment to adjust before your racking your nails across his shoulders, silently telling him to move. Immediately, he complies, deeply thrusting into you.
Just as you finally feel settled and comfortable again, he slows just to pick the thing off the ground. Your eyes widen at the vibrator, accidentally clenching around him at the idea of cumming again.
“Gonna cum soon because you fucked yourself so well against my cock, but I want you to give me one more. Cum around my cock, pretty puppy, mmkay?” He stutters as he turns it on, not giving you a chance to answer before ghosting it over your puffy clit.
“Y-yes, please!” You cry, hips thrusting up to receive more vibration. He smirks down at your quivering body and complies, using a little more pressure against you. While you moan beneath him, he increases his speed once more, knowing you’ll cum again in no time and wanting to cum with you.
The vibrations and the way his cock presses deep inside of you send you to the edge quickly, but you know this is different. There’s more pressure in your abdomen building up and you find yourself unable to stop clenching around his quickly pistoning cock.
“T-ta-!” You manage to sputter out before the wave crashes over your body. A squirt around him just as his own hips twitch against yours. He sighs at the spray of cum against his torso, emptying his seed into you. Hot strings of cum filled your soaked cunt.
“Y/N…” he groans as he ruts into you one final time. Your body has gone completely limp as he turns the vibe off and tosses it onto the couch, slumping against you as well. Cloudy silence hangs in the air as you both pant to catch your breath. As he softens he pulls out of you with a small sigh, keeping his face tucked into the crook of your neck. “Let’s actually get cleaned up now, okay?” He smiles and presses a single kiss just under your ear.
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looking for something right | jjk/knj
Summary: When Jungkook needs to find a new apartment with a roommate to share expenses, he thinks that the universe must be either laughing at him or conspiring in his favor. Because when he finally finds an ad that fits his budget, his roommate is the tall and handsome man from the coffee shop.
Pairing: Namjoon/Jungkook
Member: Namjoon, Jungkook, Jimin, Yoongi
Length: 3568 words
Genre: smut, fluff
Type of AU: roommates au, university au, coffee shop au (kinda) (yes i used all my favorite tropes and aus in one fic)
Rating: 18+
Triggers/Warnings: heavy pining, slightly dom!Namjoon, slightly sub!JK, dry humping, handjob, dirty talking
Project: @thebtswritersclub April project with the theme Bloom 🌸
A/N: A huge thanks to my lobely beta-readers @taegularities AND @voiceswithoutlips for help in revising and editing ♥ and also @voiceswithoutlips for the conversation that inspired the smutty scene :3
cross-posted on AO3 too!
Jungkook had seen him around campus before, more specifically in his favorite small coffee shop just outside the university that was much cheaper and actually catered to students’ financial range when it came to prices. He always had a book with him - usually a tome so big Jungkook thought he could do some real damage to someone with it -, reading and taking notes in the margins, which Jungkook thought was an atrocity, but the other boy didn’t seem bothered or apologetic.
He must be an early riser, because he was always there before he arrived, a steaming cup of hot coffee on the table and a bottle of water next to a small open pencil case and sticky notes. He looked too well-put together to be an undergrad, so he assumed he was a grad student. Philosophy maybe? Or something that demanded a constant consumption of large books. And maybe - just maybe - Jungkook shouldn’t have been spending so much on coffee when he could be brewing it at his apartment, but his apartment didn’t have the tall boy - man? - to discreetly look at while having his morning drink.
What his apartment did have was Jimin, his close friend and dance major that moved from Busan at the same time as him. They’d been sharing a place for some time now, but things were about to change. Jungkook knew this had been coming, but the day Jimin came home announcing that he’d been accepted for a scholarship abroad and that he would need to move soon came as a shock. He was extremely happy for him, but they would need to rush the process of moving out and Jungkook finding a new place or roommate.
They opted to let the apartment go, and so Jungkook began his search for a new place to share. He’d looked at listings, visited some places that were out of his budget, and then he found it. It was a small poster at the coffee shop’s cork board from a guy named Namjoon; the place was a block away and it fit perfectly into his budget and what he wanted for the location. It seemed too perfect; there had to be a catch, right? He texted the number - who calls anyone these days anyways? - and arranged to meet him at the coffee shop the next day before classes.
The catch. Oh, there was a catch.
He entered the place as usual, and the only person there was the tall man with a book on the table, steaming drink in his hand. He looked up at Jungkook who froze for a second, nodding his head and going to the counter quickly, barely mumbling his order to the barista trying to not freak out at the eye contact. So he avoided it for the next few minutes, until he heard his name being called out. What? How did he know his name?
“Jungkook?” the man repeated.
“Yes?” he took a deep breath and turned around at the sound of the deep voice.
“I’m Namjoon,” he introduced himself, standing up and motioning for Jungkook to join him at the table. No, no, no. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be him. The universe had to be joking. “Nice to meet you.” He reached out to shake Jungkook’s hand.
He was touching him. And he smelled so good. And his voice was so deep. Jungkook felt like a schoolgirl with her first crush, sighing at the very sight of Namjoon, whose name he now knew. He nodded in response and looked at the counter, trying to take a break from that smile, pretending he was checking if his order was ready. It was not.
“So, you’re interested in the apartment, right?”
“Ah, yeah… my friend and roommate right now, Jimin, you might have seen him around campus? He’s an amazing contemporary dancer, so he got this incredible and super rare scholarship to go study at this academy... I forgot the name,” he shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts and stop his rambling - to no avail, “anyway he’s moving too soon and I need to find a new place but everything’s so expensive. Yours fits the budget and is so close to uni and I couldn’t help but check you out, I mean, check it out…” He closed his eyes in embarrassment at the slip up, hearing Namjoon’s soft chuckle.
“Alright. What are you studying? Undergrad or grad school?”
“Media. Photography, film making, this stuff. I’m into it. I mean. Excuse me,” he was saved by the barista calling him, and as soon as he got back to the table, he took a sip, burning his tongue - but at least it stopped him from babbling for a second. “Undergrad still,” he complemented.
“Cool. I’m in grad school for social studies, so I’m a TA, but I also work with music production,” Namjoon began, but upon Jungkook’s raised eyebrows and brown eyes rounding up, he continued. “I wanted to get a better grasp on understanding society, so I can write better lyrics and try to integrate that into the music writing itself, you know?”
Jungkook nodded, fascinated. So he was cute and smart. And captivating. The interview didn’t really seem like one; it was so easy to fall into conversation with Namjoon that he did not notice time passing, and soon enough they were cut short, remembering they still had classes to attend.
“Alright, Jungkook. You don’t seem like a serial killer, so how about you visit the apartment to see if you like it?”
Jungkook choked on the last sip of his drink, and he really wanted to answer that he did not need to see the apartment to know he liked him, but he managed to catch himself before letting it out. He knew what Namjoon was seeing right now: his eyes wide open in shock, maybe even a light blush on his cheeks? His ears certainly felt hot. Dear lord, he needed to get a grip on himself.
“I’m not a serial killer, I promise. I’m a law abiding citizen. When are you free? I have classes the whole day today, but I’m free around lunchtime.” Jungkook wanted to dig a hole and hide right in there. Did he sound too eager?
“The sooner the better, but wait,” Namjoon stopped midway while getting up, looking very serious all of a sudden, “I forgot a very important question that might change my mind.”
Jungkook inhaled deeply, dreading the question that was about to come. Did he seem too forward and let the other man know he was into him? Would that be a deal breaker?
“Can you cook?”
“Ah… yes?” Jungkook was caught by surprise, confusion stamped on his face again. “Yes, I can. The basics at least.”
“Oh great! I can’t cook to save my life and I can’t really afford to live on take out anymore, so… we can work something out with that for sure!” He laughed, those dimples adorning his cheeks appearing again.
Soon Jungkook would learn that not only could Namjoon not cook, but he was actually a disaster and walking hazard in the kitchen. The man didn’t even know to properly hold a cutting knife to chop some vegetables or kimchi for a simple plate of fried rice. They attempted cooking together one time and that was enough for Jungkook. That was his kitchen from now on, Namjoon would be responsible for other chores but he himself would do all the cooking in the kitchen. Namjoon was even forbidden from boiling water on an electric kettle; that was the level of disaster-waiting-to-happen that he was.
The apartment was cozy and filled with books and musical equipment, and soon enough Jungkook’s filming materials were sharing the same space. It warmed his heart to come home in the evenings after class and see how his camera bag would be sitting beside Namjoon’s headphones, or how his black chunky sneakers rested beside the other man’s boots at the entrance. Whenever he put on or took off his shoes - which was almost every single day of the week, mind you - he would get a fuzzy feeling in his stomach. He would tilt his head quickly to try and shake the thoughts away, not letting himself hope too much. He had no idea or indication if Namjoon even liked men, and he had no idea why he was even wishing for something more.
He was not exactly sure if he could pinpoint the precise moment in time when his adoration had turned into real infatuation with Namjoon. Maybe it was the fact that the older one was a disaster in the kitchen and always thanked Jungkook, each and every single meal the younger one cooked. Maybe it was the look he sported whenever he was engrossed in a book, glasses almost falling off his nose before a finger would softly push it back up (and Jungkook had found out that he only used his glasses comfortably at home, preferring contacts whenever he was out).
Maybe it was the way he always listened to Jungkook’s ramblings, no matter the topic of interest, from deep art films he had to watch (and Namjoon would actually sit down and watch with him) to the new game he’d been playing. Maybe it was the way he would always wish him a good morning and a good night with that dimpled smile. Maybe it was the way he offered to produce a freaking song to be used as a soundtrack to one of Jungkook’s short films. Maybe it was the way they ended up watching the first snowfall of the season together, side by side, looking out of the living room window. Maybe it was the way Namjoon’s left arm enveloped Jungkook’s shoulders in a soft side hug while they watched the snowflakes drift down and when Jungkook didn’t move, those dimples appeared on his cheeks.
But that was the only physical proximity for a while. The next day Jungkook could barely look at Namjoon and spent the day over at Yoongi’s place. He arrived just in time when Jimin was video calling his boyfriend, and proceeded to freak out about watching the first snow of the season together and it had to mean something, right? He put his arm around him while they stood in front of the window, Jimin, what the hell did it mean?
All the while Yoongi watched him with a cocked head, as if he was thinking hard about something, and then an amused smile shaped his lips. Jungkook thought it must have been because he had never had such a strong reaction for a boy - a man - before, especially one who was his roommate. Was it a brotherly hug? Namjoon hadn’t said anything or done anything else, did it mean he was interested in him or did he see Jungkook as a little brother? He was full of questions and asking them to the wrong people for sure, but he did not want to risk the little he had with Namjoon.
It was winter. The small affectionate moments he had with Namjoon were keeping him going, fueling and warming his heart enough to get through the coldest season. They watched movies together on the couch, huddled up under a blanket with cups of tea warming their hands. Going to the coffee shop in the morning for a cup of coffee before classes. Namjoon waiting for him outside the media building with a cup of hot chocolate in the evenings when he had classes later, walking back to the apartment together. Watching Namjoon work, focused on creating the loop he had been struggling with for a while, nothing seemed to fulfill what he wanted. Namjoon watching him work, editing an experimental short film he filmed for a class group project.
The freezing weeks passed like that, with Jungkook cooking different types of jjigae for them, Namjoon being allowed back in the kitchen mostly to keep him company, telling Jungkook he was hungry and will it take much longer?
He visited Yoongi once a week, calling Jimin together so he could freely talk about his growing fondness for Namjoon and get some advice he was keeping for when he thought the timing was right. Yoongi told him he had to create the right timing and he would actually probably be surprised if he acted on his desires. But Yoongi couldn’t know. He still had no clue about the mystery that was Namjoon’s love life, only that he had never taken anyone to the apartment.
Whether he was even interested in that, Jungkook had no idea, but he also had no courage to ask. Jimin suggested he did what he knew best: work with images. So he had been filming small snippets of their lives, their walks to their coffee shop, comfortable scenes at the apartment when no one else was looking but Jungkook through the camera lenses. Sometimes Namjoon asked to film Jungkook too, or positioned the camera so both of them were caught in the recording.
Winter went and spring came. Just as the flowers were starting to blossom on the street outside their windows, Jungkook was getting ready to show Namjoon the film. As he edited throughout the weeks, he noticed more than once how fondly he would look at the older man, and he could almost swear the gaze was reciprocated when he was not looking, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up. He made Yoongi promise he could crash at his place for a while in case things got weird and Namjoon kicked him out, to which Yoongi had let out a full laugh, something the boy had never heard before, and merely gave him a Sure, almost as if he was mocking Jungkook.
And so the day came. He chose the perfect song, adjusting his editing to fit the rhythm and lyrics, hoping it would express his love. Yes, he would call it love. He fell in love with the good person that the man was, with all the small quirks and imperfections.
He told Namjoon he had something to show, that he had finally finished his project and wanted to him to see. He waited for Namjoon to come back from his day out nervously, heart racing as he made them some tea while the man showered and got into more comfortable clothes. The video was ready to be played and Jungkook almost gave up, but decided this was the time.
He could not hide his feelings anymore.
And so he pressed play and closed his eyes. He had heard that song over and over again while editing, perfecting each millisecond of the final product. His heart was beating almost as loudly as the song, the sound filling his ears, his fingers clenching the fabric of his oversized black t-shirt, a shaky breath leaving his nose when he heard the final notes.
“Jungkook?”
He took a deep breath before opening his eyes, suddenly finding Namjoon’s face much closer than he was expecting, the man’s eyes staring into his own.
“I love you, too.”
The words had barely registered in his brain - although they had been imprinted on his heart - when Namjoon’s pillowy lips pressed softly against his, one of the man’s hands caressing his cheek, wiping at a tear he did not notice had fallen. He sighed into the kiss, relief perpassing his entire body. He loved him. When it finally clicked for him, his brain finally sent the necessary signals that made his arms go around Namjoon’s neck, his fingers entangling in the man’s hair and pulling him even closer. They moaned almost in synchrony when their tongues touched for the first time, Jungkook’s body almost undulating in a way that made Namjoon tug his hips towards himself, making the younger man sit on his lap.
“Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” the older broke the kiss, staring into Jungkook’s eyes, “been waiting for you,” he murmured against the younger’s lips. As their mouths clashed in an open-mouthed kiss, Namjoon pulled Jungkook’s longer hair, making him bend back so he could have access to the expanse of his neck.
Jungkook moaned when Namjoon’s lips pressed onto his skin, licking and biting and sucking and definitely leaving some marks, and all he could do was clutch the older’s biceps, shifting his hips to try and alleviate some of the pressure that was making his pants tighter. The hand that was not entangled in Jungkook’s dark strands made its way down his body, grabbing a firm buttcheek first, then going to the younger’s hip.
“Wanna ride me?” Namjoon asked low on Jungkook’s ear, biting his lobe after.
“Yes, hyung” the word came out as a whine from Jungkook’s lips, his hips starting to move aided by Namjoon’s firm grip. “Your thighs…” he started, but couldn’t continue when he adjusted his hips just right and his hard erection pressed against one of Namjoon’s thighs.
“Yeah? I’ve seen you looking at them, Kook. So go on, ride my thigh, come on,” he said as he flexed his muscles, his other hand joining the one at Jungkook’s hip, one on each side now to help him move, to watch him fall apart.
Jungkook just closed his eyes and surrendered, his hips moving on their own accord, pressing his cock closer and closer to Namjoon’s, soft whines and pleas tumbling out of his mouth as he lost himself in the movements. It was too much and not enough, his erection pressing just right so his skin glided back and forth on the fabric of his underwear stimulated by the older’s thigh, the couch too small for this - yet he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else at the moment. He needed it, and the sense of urgency overtook his body, his movements more frantic as he gripped the older’s hair and kissed him sloppily, letting out his breathy whimper against Namjoon’s lips. He wanted it.
“I’m… I’m close, hyung,” he had to pause to whimper again, a shiver going through his body from how close he was. “I want to touch you, hyung.”
“Touch me, Kook, make me cum with you, hold on just a bit,” Namjoon all but moaned into his lips when one of the younger’s hands reached into his pants.
Namjoon’s cock was heavy and hard and big, yet the skin was so soft in his hand, and Jungkook immediately closed his fist around it, his palm wet from the precum that had already gathered on the bulbous head, aiding his movement. And if Jungkook thought Namjoon’s speaking voice was deep, his mind and ears were certainly not prepared for the low guttural moan leaving those swollen lips, his own hips stuttering, pleasure coursing through his entire body, from the tip of his toes to the ends of his hair, his cock pulsating with release inside his pants as he pressed it against the strong thigh beneath him. He took a second to breathe and enjoy the tingling in his body, but soon noticed his hand had stopped. His gaze met Namjoon’s, his hand moving up and down inside the man’s pants.
“Cum for me, hyung, please,” he begged, wanting to pay attention to that moment of euphoria when it crossed his hyung’s face. And so it did; he watched as Namjoon threw his head back on headrest of the couch, hips raising and fucking into the tight grip around his cock, that heavy moan escaping his lips again as Jungkook felt the thickness of the release coating his hand. But he kept moving, prolonging Namjoon’s pleasure until it became too much and his hand was stopped, a smile stamped on the older man’s face.
There were no words needed for a while, until it seemed to finally click for Jungkook.
“Wait, you said you love me too.”
“I’ve been trying to express it for a while... And your eyes do this cute thing where they widen whenever you think you are caught and should change your gaze, so I noticed you were interested too. Plus Yoongi told me.”
“Wait, what?” He turned his head fast to look at Namjoon again, “You know Yoongi-hyung?”
And so he explained how they’ve known each other for years and how they’ve collaborated in music production before, under the names of RM and Agust D. He’d heard of RM, even heard Yoongi mentioning it more than once, and thinking back, he kept talking about RM more and more after he moved in with Namjoon. Oh. And then he remembered Yoongi’s smirks and head shakes, his certainty that Jungkook would not be turned down.
“You still haven’t said it.”
“I love you, Namjoon-hyung.”
And as Jungkook woke up the next morning, warm and cozy under Namjoon’s blankets, legs entangled and bodies pressed together, he breathed easier, lighter, happier. And he made a mental note to thank Jimin for applying for that scholarship and being so good that he’d gotten it. Maybe he would have met RM at some point, but he didn’t want to think of other possibilities. Living together and falling in love, getting to know each other was perfect for now.
They met in autumn, got closer through the cold days in winter, and their love bloomed in spring.
He could barely wait to see what summer had in storage for them.
#bts smut#bts fluff#jeon jungkook#jungkook smut#jeon jungkook smut#btscreatorscorner#thebtswritersclub#bangtaninn#bts au#jungkook imagine#jungkook fanfic#jungkook fic#kim namjoon#namjoon smut#namjoon imagine#namjoon fanfic#namjoon fic#namkook#rap monster#rm#rm smut#smut
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Young Forever- JJKxPJMxReader
Pairing: sub!Jimin x dom!reader x Jungkook
Genre: +18,PWP, Smut
Warnings/Tags: threesome, f-fingering, blowjobs, anal sex, praising, cum play, teasing, making out, alcohol (participants are not drunk), house parties, drinking, I did not edit this, this is a wine-induced fantasy
wordcount: 3.4k
a/n: I am halfway through a bottle of cheap wine and this was created by coming up with a funny title that I’m not even using because honestly fucking at college parties reminds me of being young (fun fact about me) and then a poll so here it is this is just smut and it gets weird maybe? I’m not apologizing also if you ever want to have a threesome please have conversations beforehand with your partner and the person and know that in real life it’s actually pretty awkward the first time but I HOPE YOU ENJOY READING THIS ONE
You watch Jimin in the kitchen. The house is bustling with people, the base and mumblerap pumping through the house, broken by the laughs and cries of drunk people swaying and tripping.
You’re not drunk, only sipping on the drink in your hand. You’re too busy watching Jimin. Who needs to be drunk when you can look at him. He dressed exactly as you said. His tight leather pants hug his legs, showing off his figure each time he turns to greet someone new. He’s wearing that pathetic excuse for a tshirt, the sweat from the heated house making his collarbones glisten.
He looks delectable.
Especialy when he’s laughing. His eyes crinkled with joy, that innocent smile on his face at something someone said. You can’t take it anymore. You set down your drink and wedge through the crowd.
You bump into someone just in the doorway. You glance up, ready to fight, but you recognize the young man. Not by his strong build, noticeable in the way his pecs rise even in the loose shirt. It’s the baby face. And he recognizes you, eyes darting to Jimin. “Sorry.”
“Jungkook?” You ask. You remember him because of Jimin. One of the student’s in his public communications class he’s TA-ing for. Jimin had gushed, showing you the boy’s instagram. And now, in person, you can see why. The firm build is under your hands, too tempting to not touch. Jungkook’s eyes widen at your boldness, then he’s startling, stepping back. His eyes bounce back in Jimin’s direction, and he blushes.
Oh.
Caught watching, Jungkook doesn’t look back at you as he mumbles again. You smile at that. You give him a wink, and he only flusters more.
Jimin hadn’t been watching you. As you sneak up behind him, he jumps a bit as you slide your hand into his back pocket. He glances back, eyes drunk with attention. You giggle, happy to see him happy, a nose at his cheek. He says, a little too loud, “Hey babe.”
“Hi yourself,” you murmur into his ear, eyeing the way the two girls he was talking to wilt with disappointment. They bid their goodbyes when you smile. Jimin whines. “I thought I could have fun.”
“I have something more fun,” you say, turning Jimin to face you. With your eyes on him, the pout starts to fade. You slip your other hand into his back pocket and tug him close. His breath hitches. You can’t hear it, but you know the way his pretty, thick lips twitch at the inhale. “Someone’s watching you.”
Jimin’s immediately jerking his head around, one arm slinging over your shoulders to get a better look. “Who?”
“Jungkook.”
“Jungkook?” Jimin’s eyes go wide before he schools his face.
“Interested?” you comment. Jimin stops looking, eyes locking behind you. He licks over his bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth. His eyes flick back to you. “I can tell.”
“I’m sorry,” Jimin whines, glancing down with pouty lips. Sometimes, Jimin can’t control himself. He’s a beautiful person and he likes beautiful things. You can’t blame him. Jimin likes to act out, if not for the attention of your scolding gaze and the punishment that follows. And you love it all the same.
You place your fingers under Jimin’s sharp chin, turning up those large puppy dog eyes to you. “Don’t be.”
Jimin’s eyes widen with surprise, and you pull him into a kiss. He melts into you,both arms wrapping around your neck. With everyone so chaotic with the alcohol and the music, no one takes note of your petting in the kitchen. You’re just another couple making out.
But there’s one person paying attention. You turn a bit, draggingJimin to pin you to the counter. He willingly complies, hands finding their way under the back of your shirt. As he moves to your neck, you look over his dash of pink hair.
Jungkook’s caught watching again. His cup is hugged close to his chest, pretty pink lips parted, eyes wide. He’s watching Jimin, unaware of you watching him eye your boyfriend.
“He’s watching,” you say just loud enough over the music. “You must look so good right now.”
Jimin groans, the sound vibrating against your lips as the base vibrates through the counter behind you.
“Bet he wants to be me,” you continue, raking your fingers through the back of Jimin’s hair.
“Stop,” Jimin mutters against your lip. There’s a furrow to his brow. “Don’t tease me.”
You lean forward, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and tugging with just enough pressure to have him leaning into you. “I’m not.”
Jimin’s fingers dig into your hip at the insinuation. His kisses grow sloppier, his hips rocking into yours. Always so needy, thirsty for attention. You know the idea of having two sets of hands on him is driving him wild as he starts nipping at your jaw.
“Is that a yes?” You ask, dragging one of your legs up the back of Jimin’s leg, feeling the muscles of his thigh and the curve of his ass before you hook your thigh over his hip. A couple of people holler in the kitchen, but you pay them no mind, giving them a wicked smile to show their heckling won’t deter you. They’d be lucky enough to see Jimin fuck you.
“Let’s go upstairs,” you say. You push Jimin back, and he unlatches from your neck with a whine.
“What about Jungkook?” he asks, turning to look over his shoulder. You turn him, pressing his back flush to your front. Jimin falls back, hand coming to hold the counter behind him as your hands travel over his tight torso.
“Look at him,” you say in his ear, nuzzling the piercings decorating the shell. This close, you can hear Jimin’s breathing pick up. You look at Jungkook, too, still frozen at the doorframe. “Do you think he wants to join?”
“I don’t know,” Jimin whines. He squirms when your hands travel lower, brushing over the hem of his pants.
“You sure?” Jungkook’s red solo cup crinkles under his grip. Large, entranced eyes follow your hands.
“Oh,” Jimin says. You aren’t sure if it’s your fingers brushing over his cock, or Jungkook’s drink flowing over his hand as he crushes the cup, jumping and glancing down before looking back up to meet your eyes, terrified.
You smile, letting go of Jimin. You take his hand. “Tell him to join us.”
You start to pull him through the crowd. As you pass Jungkook, you pause. Jimin’s behind you, staring wide-eyed at the boy.
“Tell him, if you want,” you say, watching Jungkook. Jungkook’s face pales at being caught. He opens his mouth, but you press a finger to his lips. They’re soft, pliable. “Not you. Jimin?”
“Join us,” Jimin says. You smile. So obedient. You take your finger from Jungkook’s mouth to grab Jimin’s jaw and drag him into a kiss. You watch as his eyes stay focused on Jungkook whose face is quickly regaining its color. Jimin’s tongue licks behind your teeth, curling, putting on a show.
You pull back, give him a wink, and head for the stairs. The rugby house is a fucking wreck, but you know from parties past that the bedrooms in the back are locked. For now.
As soon as you jiggle the knob loose, you have Jimin pinned against the door. Your hands span hot skin, tensing under your touch as your thigh presses between his. Jimin groans, grabbing at your face, hips already rocking against your thighs.
“Gotta get away from the door,” you say, dragging Jimin by the loops of his tight jeans. “Our guest can’t get in.”
“Do you really think,” Jimin kisses you as you guide him onto the messy bed, “He’ll come?”
“Please,” you yank his shirt over his head and shove his shoulders, taking in how good he looks splayed out beneath you on the bed. “Have you seen yourself?” You trace your fingers around sensitive nipples, giving a surprise tweak just to watch the way Jimin’s lips purse. “Who wouldn’t come running?”
Jimin tries to hold back a smile like you don’t know how much the praise turns him on. You start to rock your hips and Jimin’s eyes fall closed. He’s too lost in your touch to hear the door open tentatively, groaning loud to drown out the brief sound of the party as Jungkook slips in. You look over your shoulder and catch the boy’s attention. He freezes, his large frame looking impossibly small under your gaze. Not stopping the roll of your hips, you place the same finger that had been on Jungkook’s lips to your own now.
“Tell me,” you say, winking at Jungkook. “What would you do if Jungkook was here?”
“Fuck,” Jimin gasps. Jungkook shifts awkwardly on his feet. “I wanna suck on his tongue.”
“Oh yeah?” You ask, watching Jungkook’s knees buckle. “What else? Want me to watch him fuck you?”
Jimin shakes his head on the bed. “Want to fuck him. Or, god,” Jimin runs his hands through his hair with a happy sigh. “We could, together, I don’t-”
Jimin squeaks as his eyes open and catch sight of Jungkook. The boys stare at each other, wide eyed. You stop the roll of your hips, wondering what will happen next.
It’s not what you’re expecting.
Jungkook swallows, blinking a few times like he also thought he wasn’t here. Then, he says in a clear voice, “You want to fuck me?”
You smile. Fantastic.
“I,” Jimin glances between the two of you. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Jungkook asks. “Well, I think you know what you want.”
“You,” Jimin’s mouth bobs. You are taken off guard. The boy had seemed so shy downstairs, but now he sat down on the bed next to you, drinking in every inch of Jimin’s exposed form under you.
“God, you are so fucking pretty,” Jungkook sighs. He reaches out, hands touching skin. Jimin’s core tenses, body arching into the touch. “I can barely get through your breakout groups when you fucking wear pants like these. No one has a body like this. You fucking turn to write on the board and I just…”
Jungkook’s hands still, like he’s not sure what to say. Jimin’s body arches, more desperate for the compliments than the touches.
“Just what?” you ask. They both turn to you. You’re just as intrigued, this boy who came in and just touched your boyfriend. “Did you want to fuck him?”
Jungkook studies your face, looking for permission of sorts. So you give it. “He’d probably like you to fuck him.”
“Babe,” Jimin hisses, suddenly looking scandalized.
“It’s true, isn’t it?” You ask. “Imagine, both of us all over you. You said you wanted it.”
“I…” Jimin throws an arm over his face. He chuckles dryly. “I wish I was drunk.”
“No you don’t,” you say. “Jungkook, are you drunk?”
The boy shakes his head. “And I wanna fuck him.”
Jimin shudders beneath you. You swing yourself onto his side, you and Jungkook on either side of him now. You nuzzle in close to Jimin who is still hiding. “You want him to fuck you?”
Jimin nods. That’s not satisfying enough. You trace your fingers lightly over his ticklish spots. “Am I going to have to tease a real answer out of you?”
“Yes,” Jimin says, throwing his arm to the side. “Yes, I want him to fuck me.”
You smile wickedly, especially when Jungkook seems to let out a breath. “Want to eat me out while he fucks you?”
“Holy fuck,” Jungkook says from beside you. You nod your head in his direction.
“Shouldn’t you get undressed?” You ask. Surprisingly, Jungkook immediately reaches for his shirt, pulling it over his head. “Good boy.”
“Mhm,” Jungkook says, mouth twisting like he wants to stop a smile. Oh god.
“You know what?” You say, sitting up straight. “I think I have a better idea.”
“God, you have great ideas,” Jungkook sighs, fidgeting with the zipper to his pants.
“I think Jungkook here should fuck you, and I’ll jerk you off,” you say, reaching for the button of Jimin’s pants. “Otherwise, how is Jungkook going to see how pretty you really are when you cum?”
Jimin bites his lip against a smile, shoulders wriggling under the praise and insinuation. Jungkook whistles, shaking his mess of brown hair as he tugs his pants off. Jimin props up on his elbows, eyeing Jungkook’s cock.
“Wow,” he says, reaching for it. He pauses when you duck in, mouthing at his neck. He whimpers, hand stuttering short. Jungkook looks like he might whimper.
“You know,” you say against his neck. “Why don’t you show Jungkook how pretty you look with a cock in your mouth?”
You have no idea what Jimin looks like with a cock in his mouth, but boy are you ready to see. Especially as Jungkook turns to face the bed, hands twitching to reach for Jimin as he quickly shuffles over, always eager to please.
“Oh my fuck,” Jungkook groans, head immediately falling back when Jimin’s lips wrap around his cock. You can’t see it, but you can hear it. The lewd slurping sounds and the shuffle of Jimin’s hand around Jungkook’s length.
As Jungkook moans, you reach over grabbing Jungkook’s hand. “He likes it when you tug his hair,” you say. Jungkook immediately threads his fingers in, and Jimin moans deep. You glide your hand down his side, leaning into to kiss his shoulders. You can feel the bob of his head, Jungkook’s fingers brushing your teeth as you revel int he small noises Jimin makes whenever he’s not slurping and lapping at the cock.
“He takes it so good,” you muse.
“Fuck he does,” Jungkook says. Jimin goes faster, egged on by the praise. Jungkook hisses, holding Jimin by his hair. “Fuck, I’m going to cum if you do that.”
“Yeah?” Jimin asks, sounding hopeful.
“Fuck yeah,” Jungkook says. “You’re so fucking good at that.”
Jimin giggles as you roll him over. His lips are puffy and red, slick with his saliva. You lean over him and kiss him. He tastes like someone else, and you have a distinct desire to lick it from his mouth, to grab onto him tightly and pull him close before you give him up again. Jimin feels it, answering you with just as much energy. When his cock, still inside his jeans, presses into you, you finally let go.
“Let’s get you fucked, yeah?” you say. Jimin, a little dazed, nods. You smooth your palm over his cheek, gathering his attention. “You good?”
“So good,” Jimin says. He pulls you back in for a kiss. As your tongues twist, hot breath traded between wet lips, you feel Jungkook between your thighs. You hear the familiar sound of Jimin’s pants unbuttoning and the zipper. You smile into his mouth as he whines, lifting his hips as Jungkook tugs off the tight fabric.
Jimin raises his legs, feet propped behind his ass. You move to mouth at Jimin’s chest, watching Jungkook.
“Holy fuck,” Jungkook whispers, fingers finding the plug between Jimin’s thighs. Jimin’s cheeks burn read and you giggle.
“We were planning on playing regardless,” You shrug. Jimin nods, covering his face again.
“That’s so hot,” Jungkook says. “You guys are so hot.”
“Thanks,” Jimin whispers, voice cracking.
“Is it okay if I…?” Jungkook trails off, nudging at the bulb.
Jimin nods quickly. “Yeah, yeah, just carefully.”
Jungkook does as instructed. You take Jimin’s arm off his face as he pulls it out. “Let him see how pretty you look, baby.”
Jimin bites his lip, but he lets the pleasure take over, he doesn’t hide, even spreads his legs wider when Jungkook rips a condom open. He digs around in a drawer, finding lube. You watch as Jungkook slicks up his cock, and you grab one of Jimin’s thighs, pulling it higher.
“You good?” You ask again, kissing his cheek. Jimin nods again, taking a deep breath.
“Thanks,” he says quietly. You quirk your head. “For letting us do this.”
“Of course,” you kiss his lips a bit softer this time.
“Should I thank you, too?” Jungkook asks, leaning over the bed to balance his weight.
“You should fuck him,” you answer. But before he looks away, you drag him into a kiss. Jungkook yelps, surprised, but then he’s kissing you back. His lips aren’t like Jimin’s. They are faster, more aggressive. It takes your breath away and Jimin moans at the sight.
You let go of Jungkook and give a small nod. He positions himself between Jimin’s thighs.
“Breathe, baby,” you say. Jimin closes his eyes.
“Oh fuck,” Jungkook groans, just rubbing his head against Jimin’s hole. “Fuck, he looks so good.”
Jimin’s lips part at the words, soaking in the praise.
“You hear that?” You whisper and nip at his ear. “You look so good.”
“I do,” Jimin nods,a cocky smile on his face. He knows. He’s seen himself like this before, you recording while you peg him hard.
His smile vanishes as Jungkook pushes in slow. Jimin breathes in deep, hard, but breathes it out, not asking him to stop. His pretty eyes clench close, jaw tight yet held open. When Jungkook groans, letting go of his cock as it settles in deep, Jimin shivers, reaching out for you.
“Fuck me,” he whines, eyes barily open as he reaches for Jungkook’s arm as well. “Oh god, fuck me.”
Jungkook pulls out and snaps in. Jimin whines, head thrown back. You settle in, watching him from the side, an angle you rarely get to see. The low light of the room outlines the sharpness of his nose, the tilt of his chin as he rocks with Jungkook’s thrusts.
“God, you’re beautiful,” Jungkook grunts between his teeth, sinking low onto one arm. The three of you are so close, Jungkook’s mouth inches from Jimin’s, your mouth on Jimin’s neck whispering praises.
You gasp when Jimin’s hands flits down your side, wedging between your legs. You spread them, twisting so he can touch you.
“Holy fuck,” JUngkook groans, glancing over.
“Feels good,” you moan, grabbing onto Jungkook’s other arm for support. Jimin’s fingers aren’t skilled, lost in the bliss, but it’s a light bit of stimulation you need while you watch.You rock into Jimin’s fingers in time with Jungkook’s thrusts deep into him.
“Shit,” Jimin grits, grabbing onto Jungkook, lifting his legs higher. His teeth dig into his lips, and Jungkook can’t seem to take it. He ducks down, taking Jimin’s mouth in his own. Jimin grabs onto you tighter as he whimpers into Jungkook’s mouth.
“Goddamn,” you moan into his shoulder. “You look so wrecked, baby.”
Jimin gasps as Jungkook pulls off only to brace on the back of both Jimin’s thighs, folding him over. Jimin wraps his free hand around his cock. You’ve never seen him touch himself without asking, without waiting for your permission. You would be pissed, but it’s too hot. “Fuck, fuck, I’m close. Fuck me, Fuck me.”
You and Jungkook both watch your pretty boyfriend in awh, hips rocking in time to your own ends. Jimin cums first, spilling over his flexed stomach and chest. You drag your fingers through the mess as he continues to work himself through it. With a good bit dripping off your fingers, you place them in Jungkook’s open, panting mouth. Jimin whines at the sight, Jungkook too lost in ecstasy to do more than lap at your digits on his tongue.
“Oh my god,” Jimin gasps. Jungkook’s hips stutter, plunging deep. Jimin’s cum drips off his chin as he grunts, body shaking as he cums inside Jimin.
Jimin looks over at you, suddenly, and his fingers work diligently. He rubs over your clit, already so close to the edge while you watched him come undone for a man, and you grab onto his wrist as the build up quickly has your orgasm overtaking you. Jungkook watches as you cum, as Jimin pulls you in for a kiss.
“Wow,” he breathes when you guide his fingers away from your oversensitive clit. “Wow, that just happened.”
“It did,” Jungkook says, voice hoarse. He pulls out slow, and you massage Jimin’s stomach as he winces a bit. “That was… I don’t know what to say.”
“How about see you next time?” You suggest.
© May 2020 JoopiterJoon. Protected by Creative Commons. If you repost my work in any form or say “credit to author” I will find you and ruin you :D
Characters only borrow name and likeness from the members. Do not copy, translate, repost, or reuse this work.
#jikook x reader#jimin x reader#jungkook x jimin#jungkook x reader kind of?#bangtanhq#ficswithluv#fwlbingo#ksmutclub#jungkook smut#jimin smut#young forever#bts smut#bts fic
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Denki Mystery Series - 1st Episode: 『Six Men Getting Sick』
ー Midorito House, Eve of the Jyushimatsu Festival
A Voice: ... Come to think of it, the owner of my cab company… I wonder if he’s one of those people who's into the occult?
Ozo: I only come to the office sometimes. And whenever I’m there that’s all we talk about.
Ozo: Like, strange stories of this area? I’ve heard a lot about that too. I've heard it all from that person.
Takashi: Ah! I know who you’re talking about. He came to my store, too. He kept chattering on and on about how I should get out of this place before I am unable to leave, and then he just left.
Hajime: Wow. Is that person a local from here?
Ozo: No, it's nothing like that. I heard that he came here a long time ago, and then he was given the job and entrusted with the company. You're very curious, aren't you.
Karatsugu: I wonder what he was doing before that. He’s not from around here, but he knows a lot about it, right? The stories of this place, I mean.
Ozo: Come to think of it, people wouldn't talk so openly about that kind of stuff if they were from here. I wouldn't ask or deny it, though.
Ozo: He said I drive too rough, so he started calling me “Cowboy”.
Toshio: You sound like a villainous pro wrestler. It’s kinda cool.
Ozo: Right? But I'm not that buff! … Phew, that was a nice time. It's been about half an hour since we got back from the factory?
Ozo pops open a beer. The sound of the fizz is replaced by the sounds of him gulping his drink.
Chorosuke: It’s a bit late, but we've prepared a midnight snack.
Ozo: Whaaat, I didn't think the Master was here, but he cooked for me? That's very kind of you.
Takashi: Let me help, Chorosuke-san.
[[Takashi gets up to help Chorosuke set the food down.]]
Takashi: Wah, this looks so good.
Ozo: Ahhh! I'm so hungry!! … Ah, can you let me borrow your phone before we start?
Chorosuke: Sure, be my guest. … Dayoko, escort him please.
[[Ozo follows Dayoko out of the room.]]
Toshio: You have some for me too? Wah... It's mushroom soup! Looks good.
Chorosuke: Everyone, you must be hungry. After you eat, let's rest for today. We still have tomorrow.
[[Ozo comes back to the room.]]
Ozo: Thanks for letting me call. It was the president. I told him I was sick.
Ozo: Since we have a private gathering tomorrow, I told him I was gonna stay up and he replied with a resounding OK. Heheh!
Ozo: If it had been the old lady in the office, she would have told me to go home for sure!
Takashi: That’s the normal reaction. I think you're being underestimated by your president.
Karatsugu: Well, let's eat before it gets cold. Thanks for the food.
Toshio: Thanks for the fooood!
[[Toshio shoves a spoonful into his mouth, chewing eagerly. Everyone else follows suit.]]
Hajime: These mushrooms are delicious.
Chorosuke: These are the mushrooms that my student grew. He often gives me some, they are very fragrant and delicious.
Toshio: Are there other ways to eat it other than miso soup?
Chorosuke: You can also roast it, it’d still be delicious.
「Thank you for the meal.」 Everyone says when they’re finished.
Chorosuke: Did you all like it? Then, let's brew some tea. ... Dayoko, your big bwother*** will also help.
[[Chorosuke leaves the room.]]
Takashi: … Huh?
[[Takashi’s gaze is pointed down. Staring at something.]]
Takashi: ……. Jyushimatsu-niisan, why are you buried in the ground. Heyyy… Ah, another Jyushimatsu-niisan.
[[Hajime looks at where Takashi was looking at. There’s nothing but the floor.]]
Hajime: Ta-Takashi-kun? What’s wrong? … Are you ok!?
[[Meanwhile.]]
Ozo: … Hm? When did I get back to the car?
[[Ozo notices he’s not alone, looking into his rearview mirror he sees someone on the passenger’s seat.]]
Ozo: Customer-san, why are you wearing a paper bag?
Ozo: … Hie! [Ozo flinches as the customer removes his paper bag.]
Ozo: … You look just like me…!?
[[Toshio seems to be struggling.]]
Toshio: Uwah! What’s this thing in front of me! ... A big dog!
Chorosuke: Dayoko! I won’t hand Dayoko over to you!! Dayoko!? Where-? Dayoko?
Karatsugu: ... huh. I feel like my back is…
[[Karatsugu focuses on the feeling in his back before realizing that it’s sharp and he’s in deep pain.]]
Karatsugu: … W-Waaah!! I-I’ve been stabbed! I’m dead! I’m cuuursed!
Hajime: Eh... Where am I?
[[Hajime looks around.]]
Hajime: It’s pitch black.
Hajime: H-HIEEEEEEE!!! [[All of a sudden Hajime screams. Thrashing and flinging.]]
Hajime: H-Help meeee!!! SOMEBODY, HELP ME!
Takashi: Waaaaaah…!! … Huh. What was that?
Ozo: Wah! What the-? A-are these mushrooms safe to eat!? I just had a scary dream!****
Chorosuke: Huh? What’s the matter? Nothing happened to me, I’m fine. Here, have some tea.
[[Chorosuke starts pouring tea.]]
Toshio: I'm fine too.
[[Toshio starts munching on some of the snacks Chorosuke offered with the tea.]]
Toshio: Delicious! Where did you get these snacks?
Ozo: Eh ~ !? You're always eating them, so you've built up a tolerance? I don't remember it clearly, but I was really scared!
Toshio: Aah! Are you okay, Karamatsu-niisan? The corner of the desk is digging into your back.
Karatsugu: Eh!? The corner of the table? … Ah, thank goodness. I thought I was stabbed in the back…
Hajime: Haa~. [[Hajime releases a sigh he’s been holding.]]
Hajime: …. What was that. Just now. I’m not immune to these mushrooms… What did I just see…? Th-That was scary.
Toshio: Aaaa, that was delicious. … Well, I’m going home now. I’ll see you all tomorrow. My big brothers and Todomatsu!
Takashi: I'm getting a little used to it. That “Todomatsu”. Jyushimatsu-niisan.
Ozo: You live on the other side of the mountain, right? Why don't you just stay the night? Or, do you want me to drive you home?
Toshio: The roads are dangerous at night. I can take a shortcut.
[[Toshio stands up quickly in one fell swoop.]]
Toshio: Nanna is waiting for me.
Chorosuke: Here you go. Didn’t something break just earlier?
Toshio: Thank you, Choroma- Chorosuke-san. Todomatsu, my bigger brothers. Good night!
Thump, thump... Rustle, rustle, rustle. [[Toshio takes off running, his footsteps landing heavy on the dirt path. Soon after he runs through the bushes and into the forest.]]
Takashi: Ah…! He jumped into the bushes. I-I hope he’s ok.
Chorosuke: Ogami’s fine. Oh, and he’s always running around in the mountains.
[[Dayoko walks in to tell Chorosuke something.]]
Chorosuke: Hm, what. … Aah. Thank you, Dayoko. Everyone. The bath is ready. Please, help yourselves.
Ozo: Ah~, I'm going to catch my breath ‘cause my eyes are getting tired*****!
Chorosuke: Eh!?
Ozo: If we're going to talk about scary stories, how about we tell a “Hundred Stories” while drinking?
Chorosuke: Can you stop doing that I don’t want to get in trouble if something weird happens!?
ーThe Endー
Original Event
Summer Arc: 1 | 2 | 3
Mod Note: This came from the Stories that came with the Akatsuka Mansion Attraction from Trashneyland. All 4 and 3 star attractions have 3 stories, often related to the theme of the building. (ex. Akatsuka Mansion has 3 stories related to Denki Mystery. Geruge Castle also has 3 stories related to the Geruge Set).
The original title is 二豎(にじゆ)と六人の男 (lit. The Evil Spirits of Illness and the Six Men). *Nijiyu (二豎) is a term that originated from the legends of Zheng Chenggong. Unfortunately it’s all in Chinese and I’m already at my wit’s end so I can’t give you an exact origin lmao. I’m not sure what exactly happened but there’s this Duke who was cursed to not be able to eat anything new. He is feeling ill, he dreams of his illness and the doctor says that the illness can’t be healed because the cause is somewhere even his medicine can’t reach. That’s my rough understanding of what happened. Anw, that illness became known as the Nijiyu.
Edit: I looked up David Finch's filmography again and turns out that the original title is referencing his 1967 work "Six Men Getting Sick (Six Times)". I've changed the title to make more sense to English readers, but I've kept the original title in the mod notes. If the stage names are references to David Lynch's movies then the story names are references to David Lynch's short films. And unlike the stage names, the titles of each story is relevant to what happens in the story.
*** Chorosuke uses Anii-chama again. Which is a cutesy way of saying bigger brother: Nii-san > Nii-sama > Anii-chama. He’s acting like a sis-con btw.
**** If you haven’t noticed, their mushroom trip is based on their original attack sprites. Ozo’s hallucination is a combination of his (Taxi + Passenger) and Toshio (Removing Mask)’s attacks. Karatsugu, Hajime and Takashi are slightly different from their original attack sprites (Karatsugu doesn’t write a dying message, Hajime doesn’t wield an axe and bolo, Takashi isn’t screaming). Chorosuke and Toshio’s hallucinations are original. Chorosuke is hallucinating about Dayoko being taken away and Toshio’s hallucinations involve a big dog, most likely the Inugami Youkai.
*****I think the original text is an idiom? I don’t know what it exactly means though so I did my best approx.
#Denkimatsu#Denki Mystery#Mystery Novel AU#Romantic Mystery#Osomatsu San#Hesokuri Wars#Translation#Event Story#Ozo Akashika#Karatsugu Aogo#Chorosuke Midorito#Hajime Shisaka#Toshio Ogami#Takashi Momose#Dayoko#Mod Pheo#Enjoy!!!
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WIP Wednesday: Whumptober Previews, Take 2
I still have a few more to go, but I am in the final stretch for writing my @whumptober2020 pieces! I already posted one preview of what I have so far (you can see Days 1-12 here), so here are previews for the rest of what I have written - and sneak peeks at what’s planned out but not written yet!
Whumptober starts tomorrow - we’ll see how you feel about my work this go-round! Last year, Whumptober Day 1 introduced Daniel Michaelson. This year... it starts with Danny, too.
Day 13:
“Vanni, they thought he was you.”
“I know, Ridley!” Rossi never snapped at Ridley, but here it was, and Connor forced in a hitching, shaky inhale around the tremendous, inescapable weight pressing down on him, determined to keep breathing long enough to understand. “I know they did.”
“And they fucking poisoned him and then dumped him to fucking die-”
“I know!” The two men went silent for a second, Ridley staring with shock at Rossi and Rossi glaring furious towards the window without looking back. Connor’s breath, rattling in his struggling lungs, was the only sound in the room.
Day 14:
Peter glanced over his shoulder, back towards the house. The thermometer had climbed a little more, reading 98.5 degrees Farenheit now, and Peter blinked as he shivered again, swallowing without any saliva. His mouth felt dry, and strange. Why was he shivering - how did he have goosebumps - if it was almost one hundred degrees?
As if he’d heard Peter’s thoughts, the side door opened and Micheal came out, wearing his weekend outfit of slim black slacks and a pale heathered gray t-shirt, what Madam allowed him to wear. He was carrying a glass of water with ice and a little striped straw stuck in the top. The black shock collar he was never allowed to remove - not yet, Madam said, not until Micheal learned how to be silent without needing encouragement, to her satisfaction - cut a wide band across his neck, the black box small and nearly perfectly blended in at the back.
“Peter,” He said in a low voice - not quite a whisper, but just as quiet. “I brought you a drink, I-” He looked up, squinting towards the sky. “It’s hot. Should you be out here?”
Day 15:
He drops back to the ground, groaning, eyes fluttering open and shut, before he reaches out to grip onto Ora’s arm again. He turns to look at them, and his eyes are glowing so brightly he can see the reflected light on Ora’s face, the flicker of yellow against their irises. There are things that move beneath the light in Ryan Michaelson’s eyes, and he no longer feels them pushed back under the surface of his skin.
“I’m so fucking hungry,” He whispers, and his fingernails dig into Ora’s arm until they begin to bleed and whimper, but they don’t - can’t - pull away. Not until he lets them.
They will be lost in his eyes until he decides to let them go.
Day 16:
Count to ten, Tris! One… two...
Her voice is so loud he jumps, but when he looks to the left, nothing’s there. Just the white walls, plain and featureless, white tiles that were smooth under his fingertips back when he was allowed to touch them.
Everything is cold, and the boy has been shivering for so long that his muscles ache from the constant tense-and-release, tense-and-release, struggling to keep him warm.
Day 17:
She giggles a little, then glances over her shoulder, mouths something at the cameraman. Oliver can guess what. Edit that out.
Kelly Donahue doesn’t want the episode to be aired with her giggling like a schoolgirl at a bit of idle flattery. Well. Everyone has their things they like to hide, don’t they?
She has her giggle. Oliver has a teenage boy locked in his bedroom.
Day 18:
“Your mother,” Patrick interrupted, with gentle violence, “believes that you are squandering an opportunity.”
“An-... a what-”
“We respect your decision - and your brother’s - to refuse interviews, especially at his early date.” Patrick sounded like he’d rehearsed this answer, delivered with the same smooth cadence he had during his speeches before the Board of Directors. “But, considering the effort it took us to find you-”
“The effort it took Nate to find us,” Ryan corrected, ice growing along his veins at the same time it took over his voice. “Nate. It was Nate who watched the videos, it was Nate who talked Abraham into showing him the yard, it was Nate who spent fucking night after fucking night trolling fucking satellite photos to try and find us. Don’t act like the effort came from you. It came from my brother’s goddamn fiance.”
Day 19:
“If this is a trap, I’m going to owe Gavin fifty bucks.” Vera checked and rechecked her handgun, as though it would suddenly be less loaded than it was just a few minutes before. Her jaw was set in a grim line, eyes flashing a kind of damped-down fire, embers ready to spark. Her thick black hair, showing growing hints of gray, was pulled into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, and she wore a pair of black pants and a tucked-in t-shirt, ready for the fight she was definitely expecting. “I don’t want to owe Gavin money, Isaac.”
“It’s not a trap,” Isaac replied, making his own nervous check and recheck of the table and chairs. “I don’t think it is, anyway. My instincts are saying it isn’t.”
“Your instincts-”
“My instincts have been spot-on for a decade, Vera. Just trust me on this. She let us pick the day, the time, the location… she let us give her the location with less than four hours’ notice, even. If this is a trap, she’s piss-poor at setting it.”
Day 20:
He’d been flying, and the fall had been worse than the arrow, at first.
The sudden burst of white-hot pain had stunned him, caught him mid-spin enjoying an early-morning chill, and sent him tumbling to the ground below.
He’d heard his own frantic keens of panic and fear as if from a distance, and then they’d been drowned out when he slammed into the trees, feathers flying all around him as they were ripped free by the branches he smacked into one after another on the way down.
Day 21:
"Mmhmmm. Christopher. Stanton." Nat listens for a long time, then says quietly, "No known health problems. Autistic."
Jake looks up, and Nat calmly looks back at him, while speaking into the phone. "Yes. Yes, I'm confident. He is sensitive to fluorescent lights, scared of needles, and terrified of sedation. Yeah, I realize that I just described the exact environment we’re sending him into.” Chris whimpered, and Nat’s voice went ragged, her eyes closed tightly against the sight of his face pale, sweaty, twisted with pain. “Listen. Just-... just put on the fucking papers that Christopher Stanton is fucking autistic, because that's what my goddamn rescue is - I'll sell someone else's firstborn to fucking Satan if he isn't, mark my fucking words - and we're wasting time while he gets worse!"
Day 22:
Rossi picks the glass up and just as he tilts it up to his lips, Connor rears back and up on his knees and swings one of his hands, the black leather ‘paw’ smacking into the rim of the glass and spilling it in an arc across Rossi’s suit, onto the table, soaking his cards and hitting the next person at the table right in the eyes.
“Connor, what the fuck?!” Rossi’s voice isn’t furious, not yet - he’s too shocked to get beyond the simple surprise.
Day 23:
The drugs in his system weigh him down, he is too exhausted to understand what’s happening or how to begin to fight it. His eyes keep trying to close and stay closed, and he whimpers, forcing them back open.
“Pozhaluysta…” He groans, collapsing forward against the heavy solidity of the man, the soft tailored fabric of his expensive suitjacket, the scent of clove cigarettes that clings to him like a woman’s fingers clutching tightly. “Pozhaluysta, otpusti menya…”
Day 24:
“My name is Melody,” The girl said, nearly extending her hand, but then she realized the creature’s right hand was nothing but wickedly sharp talons, and it was bound in front of him to his left. “Oh, I’m sorry. What’s your name?”
The creature blinked once, twice. Watched her, tense and maybe suspicious, and then shook his head. “No… no name.” He spoke slowly, as though words came only with difficulty but a soft little trill sounded under one voice, layered it with another. “Pet.”
Day 25:
“Wh, where, where, where-where, where am, am I-”
“Sssshhhh.” The person in the dark blue uniform presses a plastic-gloved hand to his shoulder as he tries to sit up, pushing him back down. “Hey no, you gotta stay steady, there. Don’t move.”
“Please-... please, sir, h-hurts-”
“Not sir,” The person says, gently, a bit of auburn hair falling over their forehead. “Can you see?”
“K-Kind... kind of... hurts-”
“Sssshhhh. I know. I know it does. Just hang on. Tori’s going to help me get you some paperwork going. Don’t worry, kiddo.” The person pats him, lightly, and then looks up, brown eyes scanning the hallway outside. “You’re not the first we’ve pulled through this.”
Day 26:
Calon Nie hummed to himself, tapping talons on the floor, watching the boy sit so still, as though stillness could protect him from the dangers of the world. “Good. Failed, you, to keep new eyes. Costs a life, to give something new. Killan Josta, human boy, he fail Calon Nie. He fail the life given, when eyes don’t work. Did not respect sacrifice.”
“I’m… I’m sorry,” The boy said hoarsely, curling in on himself even more, his wings instinctively curling protectively around him. “I… I don’t want anyone to d-die for me. I didn’t mean to-... I didn’t mean to fail. I, I tried to p-pray for them, to stars, to-”
“Paugh! Mysteries do not hear you.”
Day 27:
Jake answers, and on the other side of the door, the old woman stands holding a large cardboard box in her arms, her grandson present, as nearly always, at her side. He holds a large box, too - so big, in fact, that only the top half of his face is visible.
“They’re sayin’ it could be a week before we get power back,” Ruth says, with a world-weary sigh. “A full-on week. We figured we’d bring you some supplies.”
Day 28:
Ora Collins is hungry.
Day 29:
Jake is a tall man, but the emergency room always made him feel so small. Even now, part of him rehearses the scripted stories. I fell while climbing a tree. I crashed my bike. I tripped going down the stairs.
He has lies to tell today, just like he always has, but today the lies are for Chris, not himself.
He’s my brother. No, different dads, that’s all. His mom lives a few states away, I handle all his medical stuff.
Day 30:
(AKA Possession, Part 2)
Ryan and Nate take down Abraham Denner.
Day 31:
Danny is left for dead.
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Hiiii! If you’re taking requests for the drabble prompt lists you reblogged, would you mind doing “I don’t remember our hello kiss being a hello makeout. Are you threatened by my friend?” with our boy TJeffs? I love your writing. I’ve probably read and reread chapter 4 of FOTP more times than I can count. 😊
aw omg this is so sweet!! this got too long so i had to use a “continue reading” and i edited the prompt just a lil for the flow of the writing ;)
___________
You didn’t think having Alex over would be a problem.
It was a Friday evening, long after your classes had ended, but your workload never seemed to stop. You and Alexander were old friends from undergrad, and both of you staying at the same university for law school was a pleasant coincidence, as he had always been your favorite and most effective study buddy–hence, why you were currently slumped on the couch in your apartment, textbook and notes strewn across the floor of your flat, flashcards in your hand with your legs slung over Alex’s lap.
You groaned as he continued to read off court cases that had long since begun to blur together.
“Hold up. Wasn’t Madison your roommate last year?” you asked with a knit brow, and Alex just rolled his eyes, amusement etched into his features.
“Definitely not the one who went against Marbury in 1803.”
“What’s the difference?” you whined, digging through your scattered notes for some semblance of organization.
Alex gave a teasing grin. “Well, for starters–”
The beginning of Alex’s monologue of clowning you was cut thankfully short by the sound of the door to your flat opening.
“Hey, sweetheart.” You heard Thomas’s tired voice before you saw him, craning your neck with a smile as he walked in.
“Hey, T.” You met his eyes as he began to shake his coat off, and he left his things by the door, eyeing Alex warily as he went toward the adjacent kitchen. “How was TA-ing?
“Worse now that you’re not an undergrad.” He sent you a sly grin, winked, and you rolled your eyes. He hesitated, though, glancing to Alex. “And how’ve you been doin’ with…” A slight pause broke his sentence; it was clear how carefully he was choosing his words. “Studying?”
You raised an eyebrow when his eyes narrowed in the very slightest, and you risked a glance toward Alex, who looked equally tense. The shift in the atmosphere was obvious, but you couldn’t quite explain what caused it.
“It’s good,” you said slowly, shifting on the couch as you shuffled your notes into a pile. “By the way, this is–”
“We’ve met.” It was Alex who cut you off, addressing you but with his annoyed gaze fixed on Thomas. Your eyes widened.
“Oh,” was all you could say. You swallowed. “How did–”
“We had classes together in college. Same major,” Thomas abruptly interjected, jaw clenched. Your eyes widened further; you had rarely seen him angry, and you couldn’t imagine what about Alex’s presence had him to worked up. He finally broke Alex’s stare, addressing you directly. “Didn’t know this was who you meant when you said you were havin’ Alex over.”
“Didn’t know Jefferson was your roommate, either,” Alex scowled at you. You were certainly caught in the middle of a much longer standing feud, and didn’t seem to have a way out. Thomas scoffed.
“Her boyfriend, actually.”
Alex raised an eyebrow, a mix of surprise and skepticism apparent across his face. “Funny,” he drawled, “She never mentioned having a boyfriend.”
Thomas turned to you, eyebrows raised, gaze accusatory. “Oh yeah?”
You simpered guiltily, praying that the atmosphere would soon lighten. “It never came up.”
He folded his arms, his jaw set and shoulders tense. His expression had melted once again into one of simple annoyance, and his gaze shifted to where your legs rested in Alex’s lap, eyeing how close the two of you were sitting, curled up together under your classwork. The beat that passed had the animosity in the air weighing heavily on your shoulders.
“Well don’t get too excited, Hamilton,” Thomas said humorlessly, breaking the momentary silence. Alex raised a brow. “Last I heard, you were a girl from criminal law 101.”
“But you’ve heard about me?”
“Actually,” you interjected meekly, “She goes by Lexi now. Different person.”
Alex pursed his lips, and it was then that you realized the pads of his fingers from the hand he had resting on your knee had begun to dig into your skin. You withdrew your legs from his lap wordlessly, and could see Thomas’s shoulders relax as you closed your textbook and left it on the coffee table beside you, discarded your flashcards and turned to him instead.
“Anyway, what happened in class today?” you asked, desperate to change the subject. You rested your head and folded arms on the back of the couch. Alex stayed quiet, instead choosing to bury his head in your constitutional law textbook. “It’s governmental philosophy on Fridays, right?”
Thomas hummed noncommittally. “That’s the one. Nothin’ too exciting went down this week.”
You furrowed your brow. Despite the timing of the class, he usually came home with at least sixteen stories about the undergrads. God had inviting Alex over been a mistake.
You bit your lip as he rummaged through your fridge. “What about–?”
“I’m gonna go to bed, sweetheart.” His voice was still gruff, an edge to his words that wasn’t intended to be aimed at you. That had your eyebrows shooting toward your hairline. You pushed yourself off the couch, Alex glancing up as he felt the cushions shift, and walked back around toward the kitchen where Thomas stood.
“Thomas, it’s hardly eight,” you said, arms folded but voice soft as you met him before he turned down your hallway. He didn’t meet your gaze.
“’M tired. It’s been a long week.” You took a step closer to him, the fact that Alex still sat behind you far from your top priority. You could feel Thomas’ shoulders relax as you rested a hand on his bicep, reaching up to brush a curl away from his face.
“You sure that’s it?” You cast a fleeting but pointed glance at Alex, and Thomas didn’t pretend to hide his glare nor suppress his scowl.
“Just had lots to do. Don’t worry ‘bout it.”
You were far from convinced but didn’t think Thomas was really trying to convince you. He and Alex clearly had some sort of fraught history that you weren’t sure you wanted to dig into.
“Okay,” you said softly, looping your arms around Thomas’ neck, and his hands ghosted over your waist to your hips. “G'night, T.”
You pushed yourself up to his level to kiss him before he went off to bed, but after a moment, it became clear that he’d had a different idea. The moment your lips touched, his grip tightened on your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, and a hand came up to cup your jaw. His teeth sank lightly into your bottom lip, and you gasped against his mouth as he sank his fingers into your hair. His touches were slow, gentle, and intentional – the pad of his thumb brushed against your cheekbone as the kiss went on for longer than it needed to. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a hunch as to why that was.
You didn’t mind though; the affection was always welcome, and you could smell the cologne and rain that still seeped into his clothes and hair. While his touch was soft, it remained demanding, and you relaxed in his grasp. He pulled away much later than he’d needed to. You hadn’t intended anything more than a chaste kiss, your actions tentative with how worked up he appeared, and were left stunned as he rested his forehead against yours, hands still on your waist.
“Night, babygirl.”
Your heart was still pounding as he walked off, reeling from how Thomas appeared more strained than you’d ever seen him. What was going through his head?
“Any chance you’ve learned by now what Marbury v. Madison is?” Alex’s voice broke your musings, smile tense. You sighed heavily.
“Couldn’t tell you.”
________
It wasn’t two hours later when Thomas emerged again from your bedroom. He’d spent two hours tossing and turning, hadn’t even been tired but needed an excuse to retreat to your room. It took him nearly two hours to work up the nerve to kick Alex out. (After all, it was his apartment, too. Why shouldn’t he have a say in who was hanging around at all hours of the night?)
What he saw upon entering the living room wasn’t quite what he’d expected, though. There you sat, just one light on above you so you could see your notes, the scattered papers collected and shuffled back into your binder.
You heard his footsteps before he could say anything, though, turning in your seat to face him.
“Morning, babe,” you teased, your voice gentle. “Sleep well?”
Thomas rolled his eyes, though a smile had begun to grow on his lips. “Not exactly.” You frowned, took a sip of the tea you’d brewed for yourself.
“Aw, what’s keeping you up?”
“Come to bed, sweetheart.” He leaned against the back of your couch, arms folded as he looked down at you. You pushed out your bottom lip in a mock pout.
“Not even gonna answer my question?”
“Can’t sleep when you aren’t sleepin’ with me,” he admitted with a grin, coming around to join you on the couch. He rested a hand on your knee. “C'mon.”
You grinned. “I already kissed you goodnight; what more do you need?” He scowled at that, and you sat up to pull him closer, snuggled against his side. “Speaking of which, I don’t remember our goodnight kiss being a goodnight makeout before now.”
You looked up at him with a brow raised; you could feel his body tensing under yours. “And what about it?” he asked bitterly.
“Are you threatened by Alex?” you asked bluntly, and his jaw ticked, an arm looping around your waist to pull you closer.
“Do I need to be?” His stare was expectant, and you pulled yourself into his lap with a small frown, arms wound around his neck to pull him down to you.
“Of course not,” you said softly, your nose brushing against his, and his lips ghosted against your cheek.
“You sure about that?” he asked, and before you could protest, continued, “The two of you were lookin’ awful cozy before I got here.”
You pulled back in the slightest to look him in the eye. “Never, Thomas. I’ve just known Alex for years. We’re good friends, nothing more.”
Your gaze was pleading, your tone firm, and he pulled you in for another soft kiss. “Not sure he sees it that way,” he murmured as your head dropped to rest in the crook of his neck.
“Hey, if I knew you two had a history, I never would’ve brought him here,” you reassured him. “Don’t worry. I’m yours.”
“Damn right you are,” he huffed as his lips met the underside of your jaw; his teeth scraped against the soft skin and he nipped at your pulse point. “Gotta make sure Hamilton knows it too, hm?”
“Thomas,” you whined into his shirt, and you could feel his grin against your neck. His grip on your hips tightened as he held you against him.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he hummed, and you squirmed in his grasp, “You won’t even have to mention bein’ in a relationship. Hamilton won’t try a thing.”
You showed up to your classes the next Monday in a not-quite-high-enough turtleneck in the sixty degree weather and with several pounds of concealer lining your jaw.
#drabbles#hamilton drabble#drabble requests#hamilton drabbles#drabble#send me asks!#send me asks#send me requests#requests are open#hamilton fic requests#thomas jefferson#thomas jefferson fanfic#thomas jefferson x reader#thomas jefferson scenario#thomas jefferson scenarios#thomas jefferson imagine#hamilton x reader#alexander hamilton x reader#alexander hamilton#hamilton#hamilton fic#hamilton fanfic#hamilton one shot#hamilton oneshot requests
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11:45
Here on Ao3.
Pairing: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Rating: T (for language really). Workplace AU, Coworkers, Lunch Thief, Silly, Apology notes, Simon is adorable imo
Summary:
Alec’s body is still, his hand tucked into the crumpled bag before him, body heavy and cold with the realization that his pasta is gone.
He digs, quick and rushed, unforgiving to the bag he won’t be able to reuse tomorrow but that’s the least of his worries right now. His fucking pasta is missing. He removes what’s left of his lunch, staring desolately at the tupperware of mixed fruit and bag of crackers, something purple and foreign stuck beneath them.
He grabs it, a piece of paper that’s been neatly folded into fourths, opens it up with shaky fingers that he’s sure is from the lack of food in his system and not at all from the completely valid and necessary outrage he’s filled with.
Sorry! I’ll pay you back!
Was looking for some inspiration and saw a tumblr post with the prompt:
who keeps stealing my lunch and leaving apology notes?
Tuesday 11:43am
Alec stares at the digits in the bottom right corner of his computer screen, swears he can hear the ticking of a clock in his head. He wills it to go faster, knows it won’t, but tries anyways.
Two minutes is all he needs, honestly.
He thinks of his bag in the fridge. Boring, brown, and crumpled from re-use the day before. It’s the treasure it holds that has his stomach responding, begging the gods that preside over this particular section of pixels to somehow speed up time.
He’s starving, hungers for the leftover chicken pasta that graced his and Izzy’s dinner table last night. If he thinks really hard he can even taste the hint of cream on the back of his tongue, heavy and savory. Maybe that’s just his saliva. Maybe he’s died from hunger and has gone insane.
His eyes are drawn back to the screen when the numbers change with sloth-like speed and the mantra of food food food in his mind bring him to his feet, his chair protesting at the sudden movement.
Nobody notices, nobody cares but him that he’s going to lunch 15 minutes early, and he likes it that way. He prefers the company of his grumbling stomach and beeping of the microwave before the only sounds in the room are scrapes of his utensils against the tupperware and content sighs of happiness. It’s his favorite part of the day, the 15 minutes he gets to himself before he prepares for the drama and insipid tales of parties he has no interest in ever attending that his coworkers like to push on him.
His coworkers aren’t bad, if he’s honest. They’re normal for the most part, and he’s done his best to stay in the relatively good graces of almost everyone. Everyone near him, at least.
Alec doesn’t venture very far in terms of cubicles, choosing to stay contained and focused on his work. But sometimes when he’s been away from Izzy for too long he’ll feel the creepings of loneliness and a need for human interaction and he’ll drag himself down two-to-the- right- one-up until he’s peering over the edge of Simon’s desk, patient and waiting until the bespectacled boy offers him a story about his band’s gig the previous week, or wistful stories about his best friend that’s just a friend, and he’s totally not in love with her, shut up Alec why are you laughing?
So things could be worse, he thinks to himself as he reaches into the refrigerator for the paper bag and settles himself into his favorite chair with his back against the wall. He could have coworkers that are raucous and annoying, who squawk and screech when they talk. Or he could—
Thief!
Alec’s body is still, his hand tucked into the crumpled bag before him, body heavy and cold with the realization that his pasta is gone.
He digs, quick and rushed, unforgiving to the bag he won’t be able to reuse tomorrow but that’s the least of his worries right now. His fucking pasta is missing. He removes what’s left of his lunch, staring desolately at the tupperware of mixed fruit and bag of crackers, something purple and foreign stuck beneath them.
He grabs it, a piece of paper that’s been neatly folded into fourths, opens it up with shaky fingers that he’s sure is from the lack of food in his system and not at all from the completely valid and necessary outrage he’s filled with.
Sorry! I’ll pay you back!
The loopy scrawl looks elegant but does nothing to quell his rising blood pressure or satisfy the ache in his stomach. He crumples the paper, tosses it into the trash bin across the room where it belongs, and snaps his tupperware lid open to stab at his fruit with a fork that really doesn’t deserve the harsh treatment.
He’s going to find out who did this, and he’s going to…
Well, Alec is too hungry to think of what he’s going to do to them, but he knows it’s going to be bad. Very bad.
--–
11:34 Wednesday
The low hum of keyboards and the occasional mouse clicking that he’s used to doesn’t calm Alec’s racing thoughts like it normally does, doesn’t try to lull him into the dream-like trance of his peers. Most days it does, but today is not most days.
Today is the day Alec has begun to see his coworkers for what they really are. He doesn’t care if Lydia—who sits in the adjoining cubicle to his left—is pristine in her work and mannerisms and polite to a fault. Doesn’t care that she’s always polished and perfect in the coworker handbook, which doesn’t exist but really should because who steals people’s lunch? What he does care about is that he knows for a fact Lydia still has a stack of post-it notes she asked to borrow last week, a pack that has been almost completely used up to leave reminders and notes around her desk. She still hasn’t given them back, or offered him a new pack, and Alec pushes back the errant reminder in the back of his head that she offered and he refused.
Because now she’s a suspect and he trusts no one.
He stands, slowly as not to arouse suspicion, and when he passes her desk he does a quick glance around to see if he notices anything else that belongs to him on the dark wood.
As hard as he tries, Lydia is perceptive and offers Alec the same picturesque smile she always does, teeth white and blinding in the fluorescence, and Alec does his best to hold in his guilt at his mental accusation.
He’s early to the break room, earlier than usual, and he hopes that he’s rewarded with the mouthwatering teriyaki chicken and rice he prepared for today. It’s one of his favorites, and he feels his mouth flood with just the thought.
He grabs at the crisp paper bag, sets himself down in his usual chair and reaches in to find—
Money?
There’s a note with it, red paper embellished with little gold swirls that trap the $20 bill.
Sorry again mon pétit chef !
Hopefully this covers whatever I’ve stolen
I promise I’m not a bad person, just hungry!
Your food is the best. ♡
He’s infuriated. This monster is mocking him now, taking the time to doodle on apologetic notes while he savors every last bite of Alec’s carefully cooked meal. They have the time for jokes and notes, surely they have the time to bring their own damn lunch.
The only thing left in his bag is the empty, but thankfully washed, tupperware he had packed this morning. Damn it, he thinks as he shoves his fingers through his hair and heads over to the vending machine, angrily forcing the crisp bill through the slot and punching in his choices. Chips and cookies, highly nutritious and sure to get Alec through the day in a wonderful mood.
He jabs at the coin return button a few times with no response, and when he glances down he can’t help the strangled noise that leaves his throat and the anger that forms a prickle at the corners of his eyes.
Machine does not give change.
He’s never used the vending machine before, not in his one and a half years has he ever needed to. But now…
Now, he’s forced to sit at his table with a defeated sigh and $20 worth of snacks.
--–
Thursday, Alec comes prepared.
In the morning he comes in wary with his lunch held close to his chest, and he sets it down in the same spot as always. Only this time, there’s a note taped to the front of his bag, a yellow post-it note that he hopes gives Lydia a hint, whether she’s the culprit or not. “Stop eating my lunch” it reads, big bold and to the point. Just like Alec.
The day passes uneventfully, and though he’s confident nobody will be touching the cut up steak, potatoes and veggies in his bag this time, he’s still suspicious of everyone.
Simon comes over to pass him a flyer for his show tonight, bright orange and the art is drawn by my best friend Clary, she’s so amazing isn’t she? I mean it, it’s amazing artwork. You know in a few years time this will probably be worth a lot of money, like a collector’s edition or--
Alec’s ambiguous stare unsettles Simon and he adds a weirded out “Dude are you, like, okay?” before he shrugs and heads back to his own cubicle, Alec’s undecided eyes following his every movement with a sharpness he’s never needed to hone until now.
Perhaps he’s covering up, trying to extend an olive branch beyond the monetary.
Alec won’t accept, though. Won’t forgive and forget until he knows for certain that it’s Simon, and has a confession straight from the source. Why doesn’t Simon just admit that he’s been taking Alec’s lunch and apologize? Why does he have to do it in a roundabout way now that he’s been called out? Be a man, Simon Lewis. Admit your defeat, and stop eating my lunch.
At 11:45 Alec’s visit to the refrigerator is prompt and purposeful, renewed with vigor because he has no reason to believe his lunch has been stolen again. Not until he’s sat on his chair with another empty container and note, livid.
Or what?
I’ve repaid you for my trespasses.
Sorry again, mon pétit chef!
Today was especially tasty.
xo
Fuck.
--–
Friday’s plan is foolproof, Alec smiles to himself, whistling as he steps up to his chair and sets his thermos and rustled paper bag on his desk. It’s unseemly, looking out of place and cluttered, but it’s a precaution he has been forced to take now, because he’s figured out how to get out of this predicament he’s been caught in all week.
Gone are the days he comes home, starving to the point of exhaustion because Alec really does rely on his lunch to get him through the days. It’s hard to concentrate on numbers that begin to jumble together on a flickering screen that only agitates the pounding in his temples.
So he’s decided that he’ll bring a lunch that wont spoil on his desk, something that will still be edible after 4 hours of room temperature climate. He’s testing it with his favorite soup, chicken noodle with extra chicken and veggies, his broth rich and hot filled with all the flavors that make his mouth water.
Perhaps having his food in such close proximity to him all day is not the best idea. He eyes the thermos, then shakes his head because he’s being ridiculous now. He’ll survive, and at 11:45 when it’s time for lunch his soup will still be warmed and tasty and completely untouched by him or any conspiring coworkers.
Only by the time lunch rolls around his thermos is only half-full and he’s already got cracker crumbs on his shirt because self-control is severely underrated and Alec is literally hungry all day long. So he savors what’s left of his lukewarm soup, tips his head back to drink the leftover vegetable bits and pieces that have settled at the bottom of his thermos with a grimace. It’s not the worst lunch, but it’s not satisfying and the high hopes he had set himself on this morning are shattered like the last cracker he crunches in his mouth.
At 12:40 he’s about to head back to his desk when curiosity strikes him.
Slowly, as if he wasn’t sure what would be on the other side of the door, he pulls open the refrigerator. His stomach twists bizarrely when he sees the carefully tented green paper in the spot he normally leaves his lunch. It looks oddly fitting, he thinks for a moment, like it belongs there instead of the unsightly brown paper bag he always leaves. He reaches for it, turning it over and feeling the weightlessness of it on his palm, despite how heavy it feels in his chest.
Mon pétit chef -
I’m sorry if I’ve scared you off.
Here’s to hoping Monday brings new gifts.
Enjoy your weekend.
xo ,
M.B.
Alec feels his face heat up, warmer than he’s ever felt in the confines of his kitchen with the fire high and wrapped in the air. The irritation sparks up again, and Alec doesn’t know why he suddenly feels so embarrassed and intrigued, but he knows it’s all too much to take in right now so he stuffs the note in his pocket and stomps to his desk.
He scans the room before he sits down, most people are in the break room enjoying their lunch before the hour is up. Most people except Catarina Loss, three-to-the-right-two-down, who meets his eyes with a patient smile. Alec pauses, for the briefest moment he wonders if this is his thief, M.B., but then she looks away, returns back to her work as quiet and unnoticed as always.
He doesn’t know much about her, and he makes a mental note to get whatever information he can out of Simon later without being obvious.
--–
Monday brings Alec in with hesitant, unsure steps, and he feels as if he’s walking into a bad idea.
He sets his bag down on his desk, pulls out two brown paper bags, and stares.
He would probably look insane if anyone walked by, watching these two lunch bags with such intensity he’s surprised they don’t burst into flames, but he’s early and Raj who sits behind him is the only one around at this time. Alec doesn’t care about Raj, nobody likes Raj. He’s an ass and if he wants to look at his lunch bags for 5 minutes then Raj can screw off.
Chill, Alec, he can hear Jace’s words repeated in his mind. He sort of had a panic attack at Jace’s house Sunday afternoon when he realized he had no idea what he was going to do about Monday’s lunch.
Jace knows about Alec’s lunch dilemma. Knows a little, at least. Enough for Alec’s freak out to seem a little less random and crazy.
But still a freak out nonetheless, and now Jace isn’t here to calm him down, but he’s got his affirmation in his head that it’s really not a big deal, it’s just lunch.
He snatches the offending bags, taking quick steps to the refrigerator where he sets them down side by side, one lightly rumpled bag next to an unblemished bag with the simple letters M.B. on them.
What the hell is he doing? He must be losing it. All these numbers and long hours in a stuffy office all day long are turning his brain to mush and now he’s making lunch for his thief—not his thief. A thief. A lunch thief.
Damn it!
This shouldn’t be complicated at all, this shouldn’t even be a thing for heaven’s sake. It’s just lunch, it’s not a date and he doesn’t even know who’s on the other side of these notes. He’s acting like a teenager with these silly games.
His fingers twitch, ready to reach out and snatch the bag to toss it in the rubbish along with any other stupid ideas he might have come up with, but he leaves it alone. Whatever this is, he’s being dumb about it, because it’s just food and maybe his mom would be proud or something, because Alec is feeding the less fortunate.
With a nod, Alec regains his composure and heads back to his desk, feigning the confidence he sure as hell doesn’t feel, and when he slumps in his chair it’s definitely not because of a stupid lunch bag.
--–
11:45 comes so slow Alec is surprised he isn’t bald from ripping his hair out with each passing minute that feels like an hour.
He stands, an attempt that was intended to be slow and purposeful but comes off as awkward and causes him to sway with misstep. Nobody sees, but he feels stupid regardless.
While nobody notices him in his cubicle, he sees the usual smile from Lydia as he passes her, but this time Catarina is watching him and they make eye contact on his trip to the break room. Her expression is calculated, studying his movements and he hopes to god he doesn’t trip and embarrass himself.
When he opens the refrigerator he’s disappointed to see the brown bag with the initials back in place, looking as though it hasn’t been touched. He grabs it to toss it away so he doesn’t have to take home the shame of his failed attempts at—
Alec pauses, because he doesn’t even know what he would call this. Friendship? Peace offering?
Whatever it is, he’s done with it for good.
When he lifts the bag, though, it’s light and the food inside has clearly been consumed.
He grabs his own bag and hurriedly makes his way to his seat, reaching in unceremoniously to retrieve the folded note he’s hoping is in there. He’s victorious, and he knows he looks bonkers with the huge grin on his face but he doesn’t care because he’s alone for now, and he’ll smile if he wants to. He sets the note down on the table, his eyes tracing over every letter slowly, admiring the swooping penmanship that he wants to rewrite with his fingertips.
Mon pétit chef -
Today’s gift was from the Angels themselves .
I feel very special, so I’ll answer your request.
Looking forward to tomorrow.
xo,
Magnus
He picks at his food, for the next 15 minutes, rolling the name he’s asked for over in his head, tastes it on his lips like the sweetest word he’s ever said. Magnus.
It’s impossible to get back to work after lunch, but Alec does his best, honestly tries so hard to focus on the numbers in front of him but it eludes him. So he welcomes the distraction when Simon pops into Alec’s space, typing away at his phone and half-attentive to his own story that he’s regaling Alec with.
“—and then Maureen was like ‘Oh, Simon, you’re so smart you should be the one running this place!’ and guess who walks past the office?”
Alec gives a noncommittal grunt, and that’s enough for Simon because he continues.
“Mr. Bane!” His voice is grave and he stops plucking at his phone to watch Alec’s reaction, deflates when the only response is a raised eyebrow. “C’mon Alec, work with me here. Mr. Bane,” he repeats as though that will get the point across.
Alec shrugs. Simon rolls his eyes.
“Mr. Bane is the guy who runs this place. He’s like the Sam Walton of Walmart.”
“Sam Walton Bane is a weird name,” Alec responds, his fingers tapping quickly at the keypad to his right. He’s good at multi-tasking.
Simon groans and smacks his palm to his forehead in an over-dramatic show of frustration. Simon has always been a bit over the top, but Alec supposes he has to be since he sort of owns a band. “No, Sam Walton is the guy that invented Walmart or whatever, you know the big chain? Magnus Bane is the guy that invented this place,” he supplies, though his voice comes out dejected because he’s sure Alec isn’t even interested anymore, if he ever was.
But Alec’s brain halts suddenly, his fingers ceasing all function at the mention of the name he’s been repeating all day to himself.
“Wh-What?”
“Dude, if you’re not gonna listen I’m gonna go talk to Maureen,” Simon sigh and steps away from Alec’s desk where he was leaning against it. He’s ready to leave, takes the first few steps out of the cubicle before Alec seizes his arm, tugging harshly to bring Simon back. “Ow! The hell?”
“Who did you say invented this place?” The words sound stupid coming out of his mouth, he knows that’s not the proper way to say it, it’s Simon-speak, but he doesn’t care. His brain is on auto-pilot as it tries to catch up.
“Magnus Bane,” Simon repeats slowly, as though Alec is a child.
Magnus Bane.
M.B.
Fuck.
--–
Alec calls out sick Tuesday, his head pounding with the stampede of a million questions that will never receive an answer if he doesn’t go back to work. But curling up in his bed and burying himself in all the blankets he owns seems like a better idea, and Izzy is gone at work all day so really who’s to stop him?
Wednesday follows in the same fashion, only now he can’t stop googling pictures of Magnus, and good god, the man is literally perfect. He’s so gorgeous it makes his heart feel tender with loneliness because he knows Magnus is way out of his league. Magnus works 2 floors above him—well, Alec uses the term work loosely, because when you’re the head bitch in charge, what do you even do?
Oh god, he’s just called Magnus a bitch.
Magnus doesn’t know, can’t possibly know, but Alec still feels sheepish, and he ducks his head under his pillow to suffocate his shame.
Not 5 minutes later, he’s got his nose pressed to his phone as he takes in the glorious sight of Magnus Bane on the cover of some trite magazine. He looks exactly like his notes would paint him to be, Alec thinks, sighing as he scrolls to the next photo. That’s how Izzy finds him hours later, cheeks flushed and jittery, thoughts and images of a man so unattainable Alec wants to cry.
–--
Thursday is sluggish and slow for Alec, his body genuinely retaliating against him for forcing house-arrest on it, depriving it of the essential vitamins and exercise it’s used to. He blames his inability to concentrate on this fact, and when he tosses two lunch bags into the refrigerator in the morning, he holds tight to this excuse. He’s too out of it to think straight, to really deduce why he still brought an extra lunch for Magnus.
Why is he bringing Magnus lunch in the first place? The man has enough money to quit his company and live lavishly until he dies. Not that Alec wants to think about Magnus dying.
Mr. Bane, he should be saying instead. Because he really doesn’t know Magnus enough to be on a first name basis with his boss.
Little lunch-time notes from a stranger are one thing, but now that he’s wholly aware of the situation, this has to be the last of it. There has to be something against feeding your boss delicious food every day and getting flirty little notes in return, he’s sure of it.
Something stirs in his peripheral on his way back, and he sees Catarina frowning at him, though she remains silent.
He’s so lost, he doesn’t know what’s going on in this place anymore. His boss is stealing his food and flirting with him via notes like a kid, his coworkers are watching his every move, and on top of it all he hasn’t told anyone Magnus’ identity so he’s all alone in this.
By the time 11:45 comes around Alec isn’t even hungry, his mouth is satisfied with the nervous energy it’s consuming because he’s got plenty of it right now.
He opens the refrigerator to see his two bags unmoved, checks Magnus’ to make sure, and sits back in his seat dejectedly when it’s true.
There’s a noise at the door to the break room, followed by a soft click, but Alec is too preoccupied in his thoughts to notice.
He’s pushing around forkfuls of his spaghetti, jabbing his fork rather forcefully into one meatball in particular, but it does nothing to settle his nerves. He hears noise to his side, the soft tap of expensive shoes on tile, the door to the refrigerator squeaking open, the rustle of a brown paper bag with the initials M.B., and his heart races a few beats faster than normal.
“Is this seat taken?” the melodic voice questions, and Alec feels his jaw lock up, his body tense around the tupperware in front of him.
“N-Not at all,” Alec stutters. Dear lord, have mercy on his soul.
Beside him, hand grasped on the back of the only other chair at Alec’s table, is Magnus Bane, asking to sit next to him. Him, of all people.
Alec’s eyes travel first to the fingers curled around the plastic of the chair as he pulls it out, to the slender arm that connects to an equally slender but toned body and how does he even fucking know that? How can he tell what’s underneath the suit and tie Magnus is wearing?
Surely the hundreds of google images don’t factor in. No.
Alec gulps, and he finally meets the hesitant but curious gaze before him and jesus christ this man is beautiful.
“Thank you, Alexander,” he speaks, his words pouring out of him like warm honey. And Alec chokes. He chokes, on what he has no idea, but he chokes in front of Magnus Bane.
“H-How… My name?”
It sounds stupid, he sounds like he can barely string a sentence together, and Magnus watches him. He can see he’s trying not to laugh, of course he knows Alec’s name, he’s probably done his own research on his employees, and he’s obviously caught on that Alec knows exactly who he is and he wonders if maybe google ratted him out to Magnus about his search history, because the smug look is awfully suspicious.
“Would you prefer I call you mon pétit chef?”
The magical laugh makes the teasing almost worth it, but Alec is beyond mortified now, because what does someone say to that?
Magnus reaches across the table, his fingers graceful and soft as they brush along Alec’s chin to tilt it back into place. And Alec doesn’t say anything, won’t ever mention the way Magnus lets his fingers linger on Alec’s skin to anyone, or the way he feels electric in all the spots Magnus touches.
“N-No. No thank you,” he murmurs, not sure why he’s being so polite when this is clearly not a formal setting, but rationalizing it to the fact that Magnus is his boss and also so insanely gorgeous and Alec is just so average that there’s no way he can form coherent thoughts in his presence.
“Your cooking really is quite heavenly,” Magnus manages, popping open the lid to his tupperware, Alec’s tupperware, that looks so dingy and dirty in Magnus’ polished hands. It all feels so very domestic, despite Alec having never sat across from anyone so brilliant and extraordinary in his life.
Staring at him now, face-to-face, Alec thinks that the photographs and magazine covers don’t do him the justice he deserves, don’t quite capture the immortality and timelessness of his face.
“I’m glad you like it,” Alec says softly, his gaze everywhere but Magnus, because even though they’re drawn to him like moths to flame, it’s too much to bear for a prolonged period of time.
But there’s time, he hears the whisper of the words in his head, feels them stretch across his consciousness with the promise of the future.
He’s only just met Magnus, only started his silly correspondence a little over a week ago, but he feels a connection he didn’t know he was missing.
Suddenly, a questions pops into his head and passes through the filter of his mouth before he can stop it, a question he’s been mulling over for days now since he found out who Magnus was.
“Why did you steal my lunch?”
Magnus laughs, loud and genuine and Alec basks in the sound, feels it warm the shakiness in his sweaty palms still.
“Catarina is one of my oldest friends,” he begins, his eyes twinkling. “I came to visit her one afternoon for lunch and I saw you sitting in here alone, in that very seat.” Alec feels the heat rise to his face and he shifts uncomfortably at how predictable and boring he is. “I thought to myself, ‘what is this gorgeous man doing here all alone?’ And then you took a bite of your food, closed your eyes and looked so peaceful that I decided then and there I needed to try this amazing food.”
Alec balks, his mouth threatening to fall open again, but he attempts to keep his composure. Magnus looks pleased with himself.
“You could have just asked me to make you something,” he whispers, more of a thought to himself than to Magnus, but he hears it anyways and gives a low hum.
“Where’s the fun in that?”
Where indeed, Alec thinks, and he takes a bite of his lunch he’s made for them today, peering up at Magnus through his lashes, watching his response as he takes his first bite of the dish. And maybe Alec’s in the wrong profession because the soft moan and euphoric look on Magnus’ face makes Alec feel more accomplished than a day filled with numbers and data entry.
The humor that their first meal together being pasta is not lost on Alec, and he smiles across at his lunch thief, wondering if he’s going to steal more than just his food.
He kinda hopes he will.
#malec#malec fanfic#malec prompts#malec fanfiction#magnus x alec#magnus bane#alec lightwood#workplace au#bidness
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Okay, hang on bitches, cause Imma bout ta rewatch “The Final Problem.” I’ve seen it once since 2017. And because there is no commentary on the disc I have, I will be providing the commentary.
[[MORE]] Since I started my “rewatch and comment” spree, I’ve been pleasantly surprised. Things that had previously stood out in my mind as being particularly not-good are really not that bad. Most were actually really short moments that stood out in retrospect because they seemed incongruous with how well-written and acted everything else was.
Up till season 2, the writers could do no wrong whatsoever. The exact moment I experienced a “well that was overdone” moment of questioning the writers was when Sherlock broadcast a picture of Mary on the outside of the facade in “His Last Vow.” From there, I had moments of doubt and questioning plot and directing choices that took away from the narrative. But, except for the moment John sees Mary die, I never ever questioned the acting choices. The actors are so amazing. And I’m not just saying that because Ben and Martin are hot.
As I prepare to watch the episode, there are several scenes that I dread. Opening with the girl on the airplane reminds me of how much I hated this trick. If the girl is Eurus messing with them, then why do we see it acted out? If we cannot trust that what we see is a reality, then all of the “Mind Palace” theories of TFP (i.e. that it actually took place in a dream or in the head of a character) have some authenticity to them. Ugh.
Damn. I’d forgotten the “Hello. My name is Jim Moriarty” part of the intro. No need for that if the girl is just something in Eurus’s imagination.
Oh shit. I hate hate hate hate everything about this scene of Mycroft.
First of all, there is security in Mycroft’s house.
Second of all, he would have skewered any of those actors with the umbrella sword or shot one of them with the gun.
Why are the paintings crying blood? John and Sherlock couldn’t accomplish that... once we add scary clown it’s just too much. Even for Sherlock.
Oh stop with the heavy-handed East Wind references. Dammit, I loved this show for its subtly. Killer clowns are not subtle, even in pranks.
Now with Mycroft here, in the client position, refusing to sit, with the Baker Street Boys in their chairs - this is what I came for. The light, the look on their faces, the composition of the shot.
Oohh Hudson throwing some shade. John’s half smile...
Is the skull portrait glowing? I can’t tell.
“That’s why he stays!” Fuck yeah. John’s half smile again...
“Middle child. Explains a lot.” As a middle child, I resent that remark. And sort of get it.
So the flashing back and forth in time, with the ashes of Musgrave Hall in the apartment, 5 year old Eurus answering grown-up Mycroft’s questions, the pebble: all of that would be okay, if not a tiny bit less than subtle, had we not just fought a goddamn clown in the scene before.
Oh goddamn. The stupid fucking patience gernade and that song.
Of course Mrs. Hudson vacuums to Iron Maiden.
It’s Sherlock’s turn to half-smile. Cute.
Beautifully shot here with the above view and all three of them at different points on a circle around it.
Ugh. I have to turn away at the “action shot” of them jumping out the window. This is not “Die Hard.” It’s not a cop buddy movie. We just got a really well played, fun little scene where they talked a about Oscar Wilde to avoid talking about the fact that they might die. That’s what I watch Sherlock for.
There was a fan fic written around 2012 that mentions “The Importance of Being Ernest.” Coincidence? Creators reading fanfic? I know Wilde and ACD were contemporaries, but it’s interesting. I can’t think of any other literary works that are alluded to in canon. It’s funny it should be this one.
And now we’ve commandeered a boat. Seriously.
All of the other episodes, I had more patience with on this go-around where I get a chance to type out reactions and reflect on how they are put together. But I’m finding that isn’t the case with this one. I’m just pissed. Give me one or two unbelievable moments or plot twists in an episode and I can sustain it. But between the airplane, killer clowns at Mycroft’s, the patience gernade, and this, I’m already done and we’re 20 minutes in. Sherlock looks like a goddamn vampire bat. And seriously, why does Mycroft need to steal a boat? And write a message in the sand? What the hell? Why dress up?
Sherlock’s security guard act cracks me up.
Oh his face when he sees Eurus. His. Face. Curiosity. Heartbreak. Empathy. Pain. Doubt. Fear. THIS is my show. Not patience gernades, killer clowns, dressing up like a sea captain etc in one damn episode.
She “enslaves” people... magical Eurus who makes people kill their family. Really?!
Oh no. He ignores “Vatican cameos.” I forgot that. He chooses to ignore John’s warning.
His face.... Jesus Benedict can act.
Big bouncy red alert! Okay, what was with the spinning John face when he gets knocked out?
This constant shift between wondering what the hell is happening, wondering if the show has become a parody of itself, and then bouncing back to this heart wrenching narrative — is that the point of this episode? Like “The Empty Hearse” or “The Abominable Bride”? But those episodes explained themselves after they pulled the rug out. As soon as something got to the point of absurdity, it was explained. Sherlock didn’t swing in a window at Bart’s and kiss Molly but we briefly were led to believe he did. Moriarty and Sherlock aren’t really kissing on the roof. (By then we knew what was up though). Sherlock didn’t really attempt to dig up a dead Amelia Rocoletti. We understand it’s a drug-induced dream.
This rapid jumping back and forth with half-assed explainations — I’m coming to believe this off-balance feeling is the point of the episode but I don’t like it. I like it even less than I did before.
Oh Andrew Scott. I love you.
The bastards wait till 5 minutes into the Moriarty scene to tell us it’s 5 years ago. That constant pulling out the rug — I will at least excuse that because there is a plausible explaination given. But it’s a cheap trick. This episode is one cheap trick after another, with only a few moments, here and there, of characters actually interacting.
So it’s late and I don’t know if I have the heart to make it through this whole episode tonight. To be continued....
Edited:
Starting at scene 5 on the DVD because that's when Sherlock sees Eurus for the sort of first time. I kind of just want to bask in Ben's performance here again.
After the last episode, clean-shaven Sherlock in a suit is a relief. He's back... at least a little.
His small smile when he asks her how she got out. . .
I'm realizing how much of this scene had to be Benedict looking directly into the camera and talking to Eurus. That had to be intimidating.
***I've skipped ahead to closer than where I was last night because the small people in my house will want food soon. Parentig gets in the way of fangirling. ****
I still love the Hungry Donkey story.
OH MY GOD! I forgot how much I love Andrew Scott here!!!
Are they making out through the glass?
And now the four of them wake up in a cell but this one has glass. Ugh. The plane again. I love how Sherlock changes his voice here to talk to the girl. He isn't incapable of reading people and reacting to them. He just usually can't be bothered. There’s a fan theory that says Sherlock is autistic. I was going to comment that this skill of his is evidence that he’s not but I stopped myself. He -knows- HOW one needs to act to get people to respond to him, but it’s a learned skill. Which actually might add evidence to the “autism” theory more than the sociopath theory.
Mark Gatiss - I forget what an incredible actor he can be. Whoa.
These scenes - these scenes where they have to apply themselves to a task that Eurus sets for them -- they are so fucking good. Tense and well-acted. I can see every emotion on every actor's face. The rest of the episode should have been better to make it worthy of these performances. It physically hurt watching John try to shoot the governor.
Someone said that Jim Moriarty went from a criminal mastermid to manical Thomas the Train Engine on this episode and I can't unthink that any time he flashes on the screen.
I had a moment, when Eurus was using such clinical language of behavioralism ("prompts") etc that I flashed back onto my life as an ABA instructor. Seriously. I know they are a million miles away but no one watching this would ever think, even for a second, that Eurus was morally right. Why, then, do we do a smiliar thing to autistic children? I had a moment of revulsion then. (Restirct physical liberty and autonomy, make them complete a command that's nonsensical for either reward or aversive. Give prompts. Follow through (deny reward) if one deviates from the prompt). She might as well been saying "Touch table, Sherlock." ("Touch table" is one of the first directives often given in ABA. It's easy to manually prompt (force) a kid to do and helps the kid realize the link between following the requests and obtaining rewards.)
Sorry. ABA rant is slightly off topic.
To be continued in comments ..
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9k FOLLOWERS CELEBRATION: GIF TUTORIAL by winston-wilson
In this tutorial, I’ll try to show you the basics of making a gif. Of course, there are many ways for this joyful and absolutely not stressful part-time hobby slash addiction, but this is how I’ve been doing it for a couple of months now, and it’s worked out pretty well so far. I’ve learned a couple of tricks, created my own shortcuts, and at this point it’s just something that comes naturally.
I use Photoshop CS5 Portable (you can get it here)
for taking caps, I’m using KMPLayer (get the 4.2.2.22 verison, the .23 one is screwed up - you can get it here)
please, like / reblog if you find this useful
feel free to hit me up with any questions.
1. Don’t beat your laptop with a baseball bat. Yet. Use your chair.
1.1. Videos/clips/movies.
I explained that part in this tutorial. What I want to add is that if you want the highest quality of a trailer, get QuickTime, wait a day or two after it comes out, and get the trailer here.
Find a trailer you’re interested in, play it, choose the highest quality option, press ctrl+shift+i, and you’ll get this:
Click anywhere on that html codes and press ctrl+f. This will show up:
Put that brandy away. Search for ‘source’, find this:
Clink on the blue link using the right-click of your mouse, choose open in new tab, and a download window should show up.
Save the video where you want to.
You can use videos from YT or movies you have on your computer or get those movies. Those movies also should be in the best quality possible. I suggest the ones with quality of 1080p and bit rate at least 6 Mb/s for best gifs.
In this tutorial I’ll be using the trailer of Spider-Man: Far From Home. Because all my movies are on another disk and I, uh...
2. KMPlayer + taking caps.
Before you open a video and take caps, I suggest you create a folder that’s easy to find and use on your desktop. I have one called ‘CAPS’.
- Open your video in KMPlayer. Pause it because this version of KMPlayer stinks and you have to pause the clip in order to start taking caps. So pause it and press ctrl+g. When the caps window shows up, set it to those (red) options and choose your folder (yellow) where your caps will be stored. You have to choose that one thing every time you open that window. [Sorry for the language, but it doesn’t matter. Just choose them settings.)
- Play the video & make sure your caps window is somewhere on the side like this:
Find the part that you want to gif. You can pause before it, press start on the caps window and then play the video or just start taking caps while the video is playing. I’ll do it using the first way.
pause:
click ‘start’ on the caps:
and then play the video until I get the caps I want and click stop on the caps window first, the video second.
Close that thing if you have what you want.
- Open your CAPS folder.
Get rid off the caps you don’t need. They’re trash and should be treated as such.
If you’re giffing more than one scene, you can sort them caps to folders. I have 10 folders named from 1 to 10 where I sort mine. And because for now I’m making just one, I’ll move those caps to folder ‘1′ on my desktop.
Time to make a gif. You good out there? If the answer is no, take Vicodin. No worries, when you’re done learning the basics, you’ll make gifs with Britney Spears playing in the background. Now shhh, focus.
3. Photoshop, aka that scary part.
- When you install it, you’ll get a folder, and in that folder there’s the app.
- Open that thing (and maybe copy on your desktop).
What you need is the layers window, the actions window, the adjustments window, the characters window, the animation window, the paragraph window, the history window... It... It sounds horrifying, I know, but cool your pits. It’s just this:
If you’re not laughing, take another Vicodin. Use this if those windows aren’t on display automatically:
And sort them. Now, I use my own keyboard shortcut for gifs. I suggest you do the same. Trust me, you don’t want to do this:
every time you make a gif. As you can see, I use alt+ctrl+p. You can set your shortcuts using the ‘Edit’ window at the bottom of which you’ll find the ‘Keyboard Shortcuts’ thingy. Then it’s a bit of digging but it all makes sense, ok? Ok. Yeah, no, it’s a lot of digging but I believe in you.
So you load them files, and this shows up:
so choose your folder where your caps are, and click OK. Ta-dah:
- This is the ‘make gif’ part. Click this:
so you can get this
at the bottom. I have this whole process made into an action, and if you want it in an action too, at this point you should click this:
and choose ‘New Action’. Name it. Click record.
and now 1)
2) take Tylenol
2.1.)
3)
4)
5)
(you should be here now:)
6)
7) (right-click mouse)
8) stop the action recording here:
And this is how you should be looking right now:
Oops, not this. This:
Fine? Fine. Go smoke a cigarette.
You back? K.
- Dimensions. Very important. Like, 10/10 important. Don’t cross the 3Mb size.
Fitting into the tungler dimensions means your gifs will be posted in the highest quality. This is a visual of those dimensions (depending on how many gifs per row):
If you don’t do that, your gifs will look like blurred filmography of Zack Snyder’s.
I’m gonna make a 253px gif so it won’t stretch in that post. Gifs over I think 268px stretch on normal posts as in posts and look ugly.
So that brings us to the next steps.
- Cutting, resizing. Easy. Don’t panic.
choose that tool:
set your... this:
(make sure it’s ‘cm’, otherwise you’re screwed) and crop, baby, crop. I suggest the biggest area you can, of course without the black parts.
Also, depending on gifs, the dimensions can be different. For my 540px gifs I use 5x2 or 2x1 or 16x9. For my 268px gifs I use 11x7, 11x8, 5x3, 1x1. For the 177/8/7px ones, I usually use 3x5 or something. Just make it look nice. Not too thin, not too high.
Ok, so I’m cropping.
And now resizing. Crtl+alt+i.
Make sure this thingy looks like that:
My width will be 253px, you make it 268, alright? Or something. Just don’t cross 540px. And put that beer away.
So I have this now:
Doesn’t look appealing, huh? Yeah.
Also click ctrl+’-’/’+’ to zoom in/out the gif.
- Sharpening.
Some people use actions, some do their own thing, I use an action. I’m lazy. And I don’t look forward to just... You know. Clicking a lot. So I use this action. Download it, make sure you like or rb that post, and upload the action using this:
Find your action. Load. Choose it, click play.
So this is how the gif looks without:
and with the sharpening:
Magic, I know. Okay, you can have that beer. Or no, don’t mix alcohol with pills.
- Coloring.
This is the fun part. That’s where vodka comes in. The part with 390248 times you get frustrated and your laptop is in danger because it can never know when it will join the doves behind your window in a short fly. Anyhoo.
Start from brightness. This is one little trick I learned. You can use these options:
I start off with doing something else. I choose the first option, aka Brightness/Contrast, and when it appears on my layers window, I choose the ‘screen’ option.
So I’ve gone from this
to this
It’s clean. It’s cute. Brightens the whole gif.
Of course, you can do it traditionally and/or adjust the opacity of that ‘screen’ layer. I think I’m gonna brighten it just a tiny bit more and add some contrast.
Now cooolors. I’ll make a standard gif, nothing crazy. You can go crazy if you want to, just don’t make someone’s skin orange. It just... doesn’t look good, kay?
Kay.
Those are my options:
And this is the result:
Save your gif using this (once again you can see my shortcut)
and your settings should look like this:
Click save, name the gif, save it wherever you want. And it’s done.
As a bonus we’ll go through...
4. Text on gif.
I use Arial Rounded MT Bold. You can use Calibri, it’s the one I used to use.
Choose this:
Click on the gif. Write your text. It looks like crap.
No worries. Choose the text (ctrl+a). Choose your character window. And manipulate until you get the result you’re happy with. Change the size of the font, the distance between letters and paragraphs (and choose the paragraph window to make the text centered).
My options:
and result:
Doesn’t look nice, we want it nice and clean and all that jazz. So. Back to the layers window. Choose that text layer and find this button
and choose drop shadow. When a window pops up, choose those settings (those are the ones I use:)
Then go to Stroke on your left and set it like this:
And click ok, and that’s the result:
Tips:
- create shortcuts. saves time,
- make gif actions. saves time,
- make sure you use the tumblr dimensions,
- don’t do orange faces, ok?
- when setting the text on your gif, you can do this little trick so it’s in the center:
x if my gif is 253x wide, the center is in 126,5, I make it 126px.
(make sure to write that ‘px’). click twice on your text layer, and this is the middle of that layer:
while moving that layer you should be able to see that tiny square and it’s the center of your text. Set it on the guide and you’re done. It’s centered.
- use these
to cut your gif.
- play with the opacity and layer settings. for example, if you use color selection or saturation, you can set the layer’s option to ‘color’ and have it 70% opacity.
- you can save the text layer only and reuse it by using ctrl+shit+s and saving it as psd
and then just open it again anytime with ctrl+o and duplicate it to the gif.
- have fun with it. don’t throw your laptop out of your balcony, they’re expensive.
If you have any questions or want me to make a different tutorial on coloring or something, don’t be scared, I don’t bite (for real, I have braces, biting hurts).
I hope I helped and making gifs doesn’t look like magic to you anymore.
#completeresources#fyeahps#userlance#userjessie#biafrnc#userariella#photoshop help#ps help#making gifs#gif tutorial
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Recorded in Advance
> “Alright, babe,” Marvus’ manager starts, making sure the bandages around his chest are well visible under his jacket, but not as visible as the layers of gold chains sitting on top. He smirks and pats him on the shoulders, eying the golden diamond-shaped studs in his ears. “You’re looking pitiful enough. Go out there and make me and your clown buddies proud.”
Marvus feels way better now that he’s had a couple of days to heal. If he was, oh, Jade, let’s say, it would probably take much longer for him to heal, but he slowly swaggers into the interview, feeling like a million but walking like he’s still injured, but healing. The stab wounds on his body were closed up at this point, and the scarring was already looking pretty minimal, but he looked like he was being held together by cotton and stitches under all the wrappings.
The day he woke up, he let them photograph his chest, and it was emblazoned across every magazine - a clown, martyred at his own show, bloody and pitiful, tore the fuck up and still devastatingly hot. Gore was barely a kink on Alternia.
The cerulean woman in her pencil skirt and killer heels splattered with warm blood sits with a notepad in her lap and a winning smile. She was a familiar site. They had done interviews before, and she was very efficient. “Are you ready? Do you remember all the questions and answers we’re going through today, Mr. Xoloto?”
He smiles and nods, feeling the cameras on him again. It’s familiar, and he can honestly say he missed it. “Yes, I remember. It’s a steel trap up here, even if it’s been knocked around a lil’ bit.”
She feigns concern and they both cackle with each other. She was easy to win over, as easy as anyone else, but at least she had fun with it.
“You’re such a messy bitch.” She croons, recrossing her legs, one set of eyes looking at her notes and the other staring into him with glee. “Alright, everyone shut up and start rolling!...” She herself smiles into the camera. “Hello and welcome to all of you at hive watching, this is Krayvt Terrox, of course. Today I’m joined by one of the most masterful jesters this side of Alternia in an exclusive interview. Known for the size of his crowds, the size of the bloodshed, and the size of him… well. Marvus Xoloto, it’s so good to have you here, and so soon after this grizzly attempt on your life.”
He smiles and nods lazily, moving very little. “Only by motherfuckin’ grace, sister. It’s great to be here, Kravyt.”
“Let’s start with the obvious - your attacker isn’t a stranger to the disciplinary system, and according to multiple sources, he’s been on the cull list for some time for abandoning his duties and past violence on trolls of higher blood. It’s rather stupid of him to brazenly walk on stage when common knowledge among us who actually use our pans that you like to keep a certain amount of attention and cameras on you. I have to ask, did you know Lanque Bombyx personally?”
Marvus shakes his head. “No. We had some mutual acquaintances once upon a time, but I didn’t know him, or about him, or get any warnin’s on his violent ass nature. We’ve attended some same parties, but other than that? Nada.”
“Oh, interesting. Let’s start with those acquaintances. Did you have any altercations or issues with those mutual acquaintances?”
He shakes his head again. “Oh, no. It’s funny, the only people we both knew seemed to either not want much to do with him, or just didn’t have nice things to say. I take care of my friends, ya know? And that includes listenin’ to em, so I did my best.”
“Of course, Marvus the Great wouldn’t be associating with such base criminals. I’m sure the people who lost him to the cull list were very disappointed.”
Marvus laughs. Thinking of Daraya being disappointed in Lanque’s crimes tickled him. “Can’t say fer sure since he came up so rarely, but I’m sure they were pretty g-d bummed.”
Kravyt’s eyes narrow and she leans in. “Now, about the parties? What’s the secret there?”
“Oh, god, ain’t no secret. They was jus’ meetin’ ups I was havin’ with some of my siblin’s. He was there at the same time, in my ass and all that. The only secret I might think was there was that he was followin’ me. Ain’t uncommon, but ain’t impressive on me.”
His interrorgator simply laughed, flipped a page in her paper. “Gosh, this is a funnier story than I expected. Here we all were, thinking he was some sort of hired hand or a wronged quad, but he’s really a jealous nobody. So, what happened that night? Why does Marvus Xoloto lose to an overly desperate fan like that? It’s not every day that someone attempts on a clown’s life, let alone escapes from the scene, and a Jade blood on top of that. A well-trained subjugglator would be expected to win that match up, easy.”
“Well, I ain’t subjug trained, I’m laughsassin trained. We more like a clown utility knife, less of a club to the face, ya dig?” One hand plays with a chain around his neck, the other hand waving away the last statement. “Not disparagin’ of course, I love the heavy hitters in my family, but I ain’t made to maintain that kinda rage all long term and shit. After a bumpin’ ass night of performin’, ya could guess that I was tired a-f. Ain’t help that on top of tired I was all cocky and shit - I’ve always been the type for spectacle, and I ain’t thought that through much at the time. I was jus’ tryin’ ta stop him, wound him all for-life-like, put on a show, and I got blood in my eyes for just a second and, well, I got the beatin’ I well up and deserved for bein’ a show-off, durin’ the fight and durin’ that long-ass slam session.”
Marvus takes a pause. He stops his fidgeting and his eyes cut to the ground. Clowns don’t show shame, but he does it regularly on global television. Even Kravyt, who knew what the questions and answers were ahead of time leans in while the camera does the same on his face.
“But I wanted to make my fans all happy, you know? Shit, they show was gettin’ ruined, and I wanted to give em another to make up for it... That was my b. If I knew he was such a criminal I woulda been more on toppa dat shit, but I ain’t sure it mattered much. Like I said, I’d been performin’ for a long time at that point - like, i-d-k, almost 3 hours?” He pauses though, stage whispering to the woman across from him. “And don’t tell nobody, but I mighta been a lil’ slack on my training. Gotta get that fixed now, don’t I?”
Kravyt nods in understanding, swinging her foot. “Thank you for that, Marvus. I’m sure that was difficult to talk about. Let’s move onto something a little less clinical - how are you feeling?”
Marvus beams for the camera. “Aww, thanks sis. I’m doin’ pretty okay. I should be all healed up sooner than later. Then I can get back to all that good” - and sometimes illegal, you know how it is - “work I’m motherfuckin’ known for.”
He winks through Kravyt and she blushes, but it wasn’t really for her. That one was for the cameras - the rebels he had been helping for the past two sweeps. The clubs he bought out. The performers he had been recruiting. He wasn’t out of the game, and he wanted them to know that.
“And what about the church? How are they feeling about all of this? What about your friends?”
Marvus nods sagely at her question. “Well, my family ain’t to happy. Last I heard they were makin’ their own moves about this. Somethin’ about uppin’ security every-motherfuckin-where, and they hired some kickass to the case? Wild a-f. I ain’t all involved or nothin’ cuz, ya know, I’m a motherfuckin’ loud mouth and alla dat, but they’ve been supportive of me. And as for friends...”
He smiles a little, face as neutral as usual. “Well, they’re goin’ a lil’ SHITHIVE. I get it though. Somethin’ terrible happened to one of their friends, all because of Lanque. He’s gettin’ all sorts of people hurt with these weird motherfuckin’ antics. Who knows who’s gonna be all in the path next? Can’t imagine how hurted his cloister must be - they be their own sorta family, and I kinda feel some kinship about that. I know most trolls ain’t gettin’ what clowns got, but I know, if I up and imagine, it would suck if I fucked up and got a sister of mine hurt, you know?”
And that one was for Lanque.
“How kind of you to empathize with the associates and friends of a criminal. But that almost sounds just as juicy as this -”
“None of that, sis. This is just me havin’ my own fun. I mean, the church got him covered - I get somethin’ of my own, I think. I just wish his family the best.”
“You really have a gilded heart, don’t you?”
“Aww, I don’t know about that…”
“And so humble.” She giggles. “One last question, then.” Kravyt nods and finishes her scrawling. “It’s really good to see that you’re alive and well. Is there anything else you’d like to tell the good people at home?”
Marvus turns to the camera to his left and gives another best winning smile. “I’ll be going on a whole new tour in three nights from now to celebrate my good health! Tickets are available now, and locations are listed up on my website. While you’re there, if you’re feelin’ up to it and know anything at all about the location of my attacker, there’s a text form you can submit, only available to people who’re signed up to my Fanclub.”
“It was lovely to have you on tonight,” the smiley four-eyed woman chirps pleasantly, offering her hand. He leans forward with an exaggerated wince, reciprocating the action. She looks at him with her own over-acted pity. “Thank you again, Marvus.
“...aaaand cut it! Start shutting this down. Good job, Marvus. We’ll get these all edited up and it should be going up as soon as it’s done. A day or so. You were wonderful as usual - only took three takes to get all the footage we need.”
Marvus stands and stretches, clapping his hands together once. “Glad we could do this, f-r. Hey, don’t be a stranger, sis - maybe we’ll get to talk without me actin’ like I ain’t ever been stabbed before, lmaooo.”
She shrugs. “I suppose it might be good for ratings - people really are obsessed with you. Who knew that a person could capitalize on their powers like this? Like, shit, I don’t get it, but clearly huffing your voodoo-vibes or whatever is better than coke.”
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with you [2/6]
Summary: Clementine pops the question.
Preview:
“Fine.”
Violet pulls her cleaver out and tosses it down the hallway.
“You wanna talk?” She shoves her door open, turning to glower at Clementine. “Let’s talk.”
She walks into the dorm room, straight to her desk. She takes her chair, turns it around, and sits facing Clementine, waiting.
Suddenly, she’s terrified. Not the kind of terrified like when there are walkers, or like the terror she feels when someone gets hurt or doesn’t come back on time. This is a terror of facing Violet with the possibility of saying the wrong thing and shattering that little piece of lost hope for their friendship.
This is her last chance.
Warnings: There’s a little passionate smooching but no actual sexual content. Willy doesn’t know how to knock. Mitch is a level 10 tsundere. Violet’s very angsty this time around. Angry arguments happen. This one is pretty long, too.
Author’s Note: Ha ha remember when I said this’ll only be a 2 part story?? Well, that was before I went an got an idea that added two completely new scenes and made this WAAAAY too long. However, I’ll be posting part 3 after I finish up the new scenes and edit. Might take me a while but this story has thrown me into hell already so I’m committed.
EDIT: ha ha remember when I said this’ll be 3 parts? I lied it’s 4 it’s 5 now.
Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Read on AO3
---
Before breakfast, Clementine sneaks away to give the string back to Mitch.
When she finds him, he’s digging around in one of the hallway drawers, muttering curses to himself. He takes the string without a word and hurries back outside. Odd, she thinks, but sometimes Mitch is hard to figure out. So, she lets it go.
She needs to find AJ now.
Considering he didn’t come back to the room last night, she assumes he had a sleepover with Tenn last night.
Thank goodness, she thinks. Not only would he have walked in on something, well, intimate, but AJ has a hard time leaving Louis alone after one of his nightmares. Clementine’s warned him about being clingy, but all AJ says back is, “I just want him to be okay.”
Louis always insisted he’s fine, that the nightmares aren’t really that bad, that he barely remembers them. She knows he still tells AJ that to reassure him. He used to tell her the same thing, only she knows better.
She can still remember the first time she told him to stop lying to her.
“Louis, stop. Just… stop. Lying to me isn’t going to make it any better. You can’t carry this on your own and I can’t fully be here for you unless you’re completely honest with me.”
She’d never held someone whose entire body rocked and crumbled with so much regret, so much fear.
That was the first night they slept in the same bed.
He moved in two days later.
She can only hope that tonight will be better, that he can find peace in his dreams again.
Clementine leaves the school and steps out into the fresh morning air and inhales the intoxicating scent of dew ridden grass and dirt. She spots AJ at one of the tables, scarfing down his breakfast next to Louis, James and Tenn. Even from a distance she can see how tired Louis is, even if he’s smiling and laughing with the others.
“Clem!” Omar waves her over, holding up a plate. That’s when the scent of breakfast hits her, causing her stomach to growl. She’s about to hurry over there until she sees Violet loading up her bowl. Their eyes meet for a split second, and that’s enough to make Violet jerk around and head to the farthest table possible. Clementine watches her go as she approaches Omar.
“Good morning,” she greets him.
“It is, isn’t it? I’m glad there’s a little breeze today,” he says happily.
“Yeah,” she agrees. She crosses her arms and brings her voice to a whisper. “Hey… did she say anything to you?”
Omar gives a sad frown and shrugs a shoulder. “Just thanks. Nothing else.”
“Oh.”
“Hey, have you seen Mitch this morning? He hasn’t grabbed his food yet.”
“Oh, um, I haven’t,” she lies.
“He’s in the basement!” Willy exclaims from behind her, causing her to flinch. Somehow that boy manages to be both too loud and too quiet. He’s a good sneak, she’d give him that.
“Again?” Omar asks thoughtfully. “He’s been down there a lot this week.”
Ruby comes over to them now with anger knitted in her brow and her cheeks puffed red.
“Oh, he’s been banging around down there all mornin’! I went to fetch him fer breakfast and he hissed at me like some sorta rodent,” she scowls, “tellin’ me to fuck off, he’s busy! What’s he been doin’ down there that’s so important?”
“He’s making something super awesome!”
“Oh, God,” Ruby groans. “And what would that be?”
Willy shrugs with faux innocence before shooting Clementine a knowing smirk that makes her freeze.
“What’s he makin’?” Ruby asks more sternly.
“It’s a surprise!” Willy exclaims before pointing at himself, “And I’m helpin’ him with it.”
No, no fucking-
Clementine has to refrain from slapping her forehead. So much for keeping quiet.
“It best not be another cherry bomb ‘cause I will whip his-”
“It’s not! Honest! Don’t worry, you’ll see!” He smiles at Clementine again, baring all his crooked teeth. She glares back. That seems to straighten Willy out. He looks down at the dirt and says nothing else.
“Well, either way,” Omar hands Willy a plate, “take that to him. I don’t want to hear him complain he’s hungry when he finally comes outta there.”
“On it!” Willy almost spills the food when he takes off towards the basement doors.
“Willy!” Clementine calls after him. “Hold it!”
He stutters to a halt in front of the basement doors. When she gets closer, she can hear a repeated banging echoing from down the stairs. They both look around to make sure everyone else is out of earshot. Deeming it safe, she leans down and demands, “What did he tell you?”
Willy grins. “Said he needed my help fixing your wedding ring,” he loudly whispers. Clementine’s hand shoots out to cover his mouth.
“Shhh!” Clem glowers. “Who else has he told?”
“No one,” the boy answers honestly, shaking his head. “And I ain’t gonna tell anyone either, I swear.”
“Willy-”
“Really! I even promised Mitch!”
“Clem!” She hears AJ calling for her. She turns to wave at them, letting them know she’s coming.
Willy gives her a sincere smile. “Don’t worry, Clem, we got it all figured out. Just leave it to us.”
With that, he hurries into the basement, calling out for Mitch. She sees some of the food slosh over and fall on the stairs.
She can’t help but sigh.
At this rate, Louis’ll find out before she even has a proper ring.
Doing her best to ignore the nervous frustration spreading in her belly, Clementine grabs her breakfast and joins the others at the table.
Interestingly enough, she finds that they’re done with their food. Instead, papers and colored pencils are scattered all over the table. AJ and Louis hunch over their papers in full concentration mode. James is sketching all over his paper lightly, his eyes darting up constantly to look at AJ.
Just as she sits down, Louis sits back, flashes a big smile and holds up his picture. “Ta-da!” The other three boys stop and look up. They say nothing as they study the drawing. Clementine leans over to see as well.
“...What is it?” AJ asks.
“What is it?” Louis repeats, his confidence wavering. “What does it look like?”
“Like…” AJ squints, cocking his head to try and piece together what the drawing depicts. Finally, he settles on, “A bunny?”
Louis’ eyes go wide. “A bun- what?” he exclaims. He re-examines his picture. “It’s not a bunny! It’s Rosie!”
When Clementine gets a better look, she can tell that it’s… sort of like a dog. It’s the same color as Rosie, but the face is very… odd. And the ears are definitely too big.
AJ takes the picture from Louis and shakes his head. “No, not Rosie.”
“Everybody’s a critic,” Louis snatches the picture back and holds it up to her. “Clem, you can tell it’s Rosie, right?”
She blinks up at him before slowly shaking her head. She can’t help but grin a little at the distress on his face as he looks at his drawing.
“I think it kind of looks like her,” Tenn says.
Louis sulks, resting his chin in his palm and slouching over. “Thanks, Tenn.”
Clementine rubs his back and offers an encouraging smile. He grins back at her and steals a potato chunk off her plate, popping it into his mouth.
“Clem, look!” AJ hands her his drawing. It’s of him, her and Louis standing together with a large beach ball hanging in the air. “We’re playing catch!”
“Wow,” Clementine beams. “You’re really becoming a great artist.”
Louis leans against her shoulder to look. His face scrunches up in consideration. “Hmmmm,” he turns the picture upside down for a moment, then right-side up. He glances at the young boy with a smirk. “Looks great, little man. This’ll look awesome on your wall.”
Pleased with the compliment, AJ laughs. He takes his picture back and signs it. When he goes to grab a new paper, he asks, “What’re you drawing, James?”
“Huh? Oh, um,” James snaps his head up, his hand instinctively moving to cover his page, “I was just… well,” he gives a sheepish smile, “I haven’t had a chance to draw in a very long time, so, AJ, I hope you don’t mind but…”
When he holds up his paper, Clementine gasps.
The portrait of AJ on the paper looks so… real.
“Dude!” Louis exclaims, amazed.
“Hey!” AJ gasps. “That’s me!”
James puts the paper down and looks away. “I-I’m a little out of practice, you see. The proportions aren’t exactly right, and I always had a hard time with ears-”
“Dude, are you serious?” Louis laughs. “That looks just like him!”
Clementine can tell the portrait has left Tenn astonished. And a little insecure. He covers his picture with his arm and starts pressing his fingers together nervously.
“Where’d you learn to do that?” asks Louis, dumbfounded.
James smiles. “It’s what I used to do, before. Charlie and I… we both drew. He’s a lot better at it, though.” He picks his pencil back up, looking fondly at the portrait. “He could do amazing things. These huge scenes with so much life and so much character. Me,” he chuckles lightly, “I could only ever do people.” He looks at Louis with a comforting grin. “I’m terrible at doing animals, too.”
“Damn,” Louis breathes.
“You’re a real artist!” exclaims AJ. “Just like Tenn!”
Tenn stills, looking back at his picture and tucking it under his stack. James notices the young boy’s hesitation and looks to Clementine with questioning eyes. She returns his look with a smile and a small gesture towards Tenn.
“Um,” James awkwardly places a hand on Tenn’s shoulder, “I could show you. How I draw like this, I mean. If you want.”
“R-really?” Tenn stutters. He takes a glimpse at the portrait. “I could draw like that?”
“Of course,” James smiles, “anyone can.”
“Even Louis?” Clementine teases, pointing at his picture of Rose.
“Hey,” Louis takes the picture and holds it to his chest protectively, “I worked hard on this.”
“No doubt,” Clementine laughs. Then, she turns to Tenn. “Taking lessons from James could be a lot of fun, Tenn. What do you think?”
The young boy nods, still not entirely sure, but willing to try. “Yeah, I,” he turns to James, “I want to draw like that.”
“Me, too!” AJ butts in.
“Actually, AJ, I need your help with something today,” Clementine says.
“Me? Why?” AJ complains.
Clementine picks up her plate and stands from the table. “C’mon, kiddo. You can draw with Tenn and James afterward. It won’t take too long.”
“But, Clem,” he whines.
“What do you need help with?” Louis asks. “Maybe my services could be used instead?”
She grins at him but shakes her head. “Sorry, Lou, need AJ for this one.”
“But-” AJ tries again.
“Now,” she says firmly.
James offers AJ a comforting smile. “I’ll give you a personal lesson when you get back,” he says. “Promise.”
“Okay,” AJ sighs.
Just as AJ and Louis are going to stand, James says, “Actually, Louis? Can you stay?”
“Dude, don’t mean to undermine your talent, but I don’t think even you could teach me to draw like that,” Louis tries to laugh.
James shakes his head. “No, it’s not that. We need a model.”
“A model?”
“To draw,” he explains, “drawing from life is the best way to learn.” He gives Clem a knowing look. She’s relieved at how intuitive James can be.
“Modeling, hm?” Louis sits back down, puffing out his chest and adjusting his jacket. He flashes a big, bright smile. “How do you want me? Happy? How about sad, distraught? Seductive, perhaps?” Pursing his lips, Louis winks up at Clementine.
“Still, looking straight ahead, please,” says James.
“Right, gotcha.”
AJ sighs loudly.
She nudges him, eyes warning. Before they can turn to leave, Louis reaches out for her hand.
“Hold on,” he says, pulling her closer. She leans down and he plants a sweet kiss on her cheek. “Have fun,” he smiles.
She squeezes his hand. “You, too.”
James places two blank sheets of paper in front of him and Tenn and hands him a pencil. Tenn takes it eagerly.
As she and AJ walk away, she hears Louis say, “Make me look good, fellas!” and she can’t help but giggle, just a bit.
“Can’t we go on patrol later?” AJ asks.
“Trust me, kiddo, this can’t wait,” she says. “It’s pretty important.”
“Did something happen?”
“No,” she says. “Not yet.”
---
Rosie’s tail wags happily as she trots out through the gates. She doesn’t go far, always sticking close to them as they walk the perimeter. If she ever does wander too far all Clementine has to do is whistle and Rosie will rush right to her side.
“James is a really good artist,” says AJ, “even better than Tenn.”
“He’s had a lot more practice than Tenn has,” she replies. “With enough help, Tenn can be as good.”
“You think so? You think he can teach me to be that good?” AJ asks hopefully.
“He said he would, didn’t he?” she smiles at AJ’s excited face.
AJ continues to gush about James as they walk. Clementine remains mostly quiet, only answering when AJ expects her to. When he’s run out of things to say, they’ve already gone all the way around.
“No monsters,” AJ says firmly. “And nothing else.”
“Looks like we’re clear.”
“Yeah,” AJ nods. He starts for the gates. Clementine places a hand on his shoulder.
“Let’s walk around one more time,” she says.
“Why? It’s clear.”
“I know,” she nods. “But, I need to tell you something, remember?”
AJ frowns. “Is it bad?”
“No, not bad at all.”
“Oh.”
Clementine whistles for Rosie and they continue walking. She takes a deep breath and speaks the words she’s been repeating in her mind the entire walk.
“AJ, you remember the couple at the train station, right?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“And, you remember what Louis said about them? After you found that picture?”
“Their wedding picture,” AJ nods. “He said they were in love.”
“Right.”
“A kissing love.”
“Right,” she says again. AJ waits for her to continue, but now, she feels at a loss for words. She stops walking and scratches at the back of her neck. “AJ, you know that I love Louis, right?”
“‘Course you do. You guys kiss all the time,” AJ teases.
Clementine feels her cheeks flush. “Yeah, yeah, right,” she murmurs. She goes and sits on one of many bulging rocks thrown about and inhales deeply. Rosie sits by her feet, dropping the stick she held in her mouth.
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” she finally says, “about that day and about that walker couple. You may not fully understand it because it was before you were born but… I’m going to ask Louis to marry me.”
AJ doesn’t say anything, not immediately. She can tell from his puzzled eyes that hundreds of questions are forming in his head. He starts with, “What does that mean?”
“Well,” she starts, “it means that, if he says yes, he won’t be my boyfriend anymore. He’ll be my husband.”
Husband.
Let me introduce you to my husband, Louis.
“And you’ll be his, uh…” AJ thinks hard, trying to remember the word.
“I’ll be his wife.” Just saying it makes her feel strange. Not a bad strange, of course, but a… nervous strange.
“His wife.” AJ sits on this information, mulling it over. “And you’ll be married. So, things will be different?”
“Well, no, not really. We’ll have rings on- well, he’ll have a ring on, maybe. But, nothing drastic.”
“A ring?”
“Remember the walkers?” she asks. “At their wedding, they gave one another one to seal the deal, I guess. That’s what that picture was.”
Then, AJ gets excited. “Okay,” he says. “So, you guys’ll have a big party?”
“Maybe we will, but I have to ask him first,” she says. “Last week, when I went to look for James, we went back to the train station to take their rings. Couldn’t find the lady’s, but the man still had his on.”
“You’re gonna give it to Louis?”
“That’s the plan.”
AJ has a wide grin on his face. “This…” he draws out, “this is a big thing, isn’t it?”
“It kind of is,” she answers honestly, “at least, to me, it is.”
“Me, too,” AJ laughs. “I like this. We’re gonna throw a huge party! We haven’t done that in forever! We can pull out that, uh, that… music thing! And play games! And-”
“Woah, hold it,” she stops him. “I haven’t even thought of a way to ask him.”
“Well, go ask him now!”
“No, AJ.”
“Why not?”
“That’s not how it works.” She stands up and places a gentle hand on AJ’s shoulder. “I want to do this right. If I just asked him like it was any other question, then it really wouldn’t mean anything. There’d be no weight to it, no point. I want it to mean something. I want it to be special,” she looks back at the school, “in a world that’s so fucked up, that’s taken away so much from all of us, where any moment could be our last… I want him to know how much I love him. How much I want to be with him in... a different way. That’s why I went back and got that ring, and that’s why I’m not just going to ask, I’m going to propose.”
AJ’s mouth parts silently as he stares at her.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is,” she sighs, “I love him, and I want to give us something that we thought was lost forever. Does that make sense?”
AJ grabs her hand. “I… I think I get it.” Then, he wraps his arms around her waist, holding her tight.
Clementine hugs him back. “Good. So,” she giggles, “that brings me to what I really wanted to ask you.”
“What?”
“Do I have your blessing?”
“My blessing?”
“Are you okay with me asking Louis to marry me?”
“Why wouldn’t I be okay? I love you, and I love Louis, too. We’re family.”
Clementine’s throat tightens, and so does her grip on AJ. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”
---
Once they pass through the gates, AJ goes straight for James and Tenn. Louis is still sitting there, cracking jokes and trying his best not to move while the two boys draw. James points to various parts of Louis’ face before motioning to Tenn’s paper.
She figures she can safely leave AJ to catch up on art lessons with James. He promised her he wouldn’t breathe a word of this until she had everything all planned out.
She spends most of the day helping around the school, doing usual repairs to the gate and their walls. She helps Omar clean out the fire pit and gather fresh wood. When the sky finally turns a lovely mixture of pink and orange, she decides to go inside.
Louis is kneeling on AJ’s desk with a roll of duct tape hanging from his mouth when she walks in. There’s a stack of papers next to him. He’s taping up one of the portraits of himself on the wall.
“Ey!” He waves at her before spitting the tape out. “Look at these!” He hops off the desk and points at the one he just hung up. “That’s the one James drew. Charming, isn’t it?”
She’s startled at the amount of detail put into it. It’s a fully shaded-in head portrait of Louis that seemingly stares right at her. Even the little details, like his freckles and the scar on his chin, are noticeable.
“It’s way weirder than I thought it’d be,” he says, “having someone stare and dissect every part of your face. Did you know I have a very angular jawline?” He tilts his head up to prove his point. “And James said I have a nice eye shape,” he smirks.
“He did do you justice,” she says, still admiring the picture. “Very handsome.”
His chuckle comes out loud and anxious, clearly not having expected her to say that. “Hah, yeah, except,” then Louis pushes his jacket back to place his hands on his hips, “um, do you think my nose is big?”
“What?”
“James said I have a wide nose. He drew it bigger than it actually is, right?”
“You have a very cute nose.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Clementine giggles. “Your nose is fine, Louis.”
He eyes the portrait, still uncertain. He brings his thumb and pointer finger up to measure the width of his nose. When he pulls his hand back, he becomes sullen.
Then he gasps as if he’s just remember something. “Oh, wait though, ready for this?” He searches through the pile before plucking the one he wants out. “This is the one Tenn drew.” He proudly holds it up.
She can’t say she’s not impressed. It’s nowhere near as proportional or advanced as James’, but Clementine can definitely see the charm within the lines. Definitely Tenn’s work.
“Wow,” Clementine smirks, nudging him. “I see it now. James is right, you do have a big nose.”
“Hey,” Louis reaches up and playfully pinches her nose, “big talk from little button nose over here.” Louis sticks Tenn’s portrait on the wall, next to James’. “There. We’re getting quite the art gallery.”
“One’s missing, though.” Clementine grabs Louis’ picture of Rosie off the desk and tapes it up.
“Seriously?” he asks sheepishly.
“Oh yeah. We’re never taking that one down.”
“Terrific.”
Louis continues to look through the rest of the drawings. He hums to himself lightly, a tune she recognizes but can’t place. He sticks more drawings on the wall; ones that AJ drew of him and Tenn, one he drew of Disco Broccoli.
He pauses when he comes across the one of AJ, Clementine and him. The one with the beachball. He smiles fondly at it before sticking it up there with the rest.
She sits on AJ’s bed, leaning against the frame. She closes her eyes and listens to his cheerful humming.
She’s come to realize that one of the many things she loves is the comfort she has when he’s around.
Like now. It’s a comfort she never thought she’d find again. Before the school, she and AJ never had time for comfortable peace. When it was just them, there was always that lurking feeling, that bitterness, that lingered in her thoughts. Now, she had a place they could call home.
Clementine can’t imagine where they would’ve ended up had she not crashed the car. They’d still be out in the world, scavenging every little bit they could to survive. They never would’ve met the people she now considered family.
She and Louis never would’ve met.
That’s a real shitty thing to think about.
She sneaks a glance at him, and thinks, he has no idea.
He’s staring at her.
She raises a brow. “What?”
He shrugs, his grin sorrowful.
“What?” she asks again.
“You.”
It’s like the weariness of their previous night has caught up to him, like something triggered a sinking reality that weighs him down. The shadows along his face from the setting light do nothing to hide the sadness betraying his eyes.
She slowly approaches him and reaches out to grabs his hand, tugging him closer to her. “Hey,” she murmurs.
“Hey.”
“You feeling any better?”
“Of course.”
“Really?” Clementine locks their fingers together. “It’s been a long time since you’ve had one that bad.”
He keeps his stare focused on their hands. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“Louis.”
“Clementine.”
She uses her free hand to tilt his chin up. “It was about that woman, wasn’t it?”
He says nothing, but she can see the answer clear in his eyes.
Yes, Clem, you know it was. It always is.
The first and only living person Louis ever personally killed, and it was purely accidental. It frustrates her that it still haunts him and that it’ll always haunt him. She knows. That kind of guilt, no matter how irrational, never stops.
“Dorian.”
“Hm?”
Louis closes his eyes and leans forward to press his forehead to hers.
“Her name was Dorian.”
“Lou…”
“I know.” He pulls back, squeezes his eyes shut and forces a smile. “I know.” His gaze falls on her nose. He pinches it again. “I don’t wanna talk about it right now. Is that okay?”
She smiles sincerely. “Yeah. Just… want to make sure you’re alright.”
“Well, I’m always better with you around, so...” He bites his lip, shakes his head and lets out a dry laugh. “You don’t have to worry about me so much, Clem. There are more important ways to spend your time.”
With a quirked brow, her eyes dart down to his mouth.
More important?
Well, she wouldn’t put it that way.
Without any hesitation, she kisses him. It’s a quick, soft, comforting peck that catches him off guard.
Another kiss to his lips, and then another. She holds onto the nape of his neck and moves to his chin, his cheek, placing soft, intimate kisses against his warm skin.
He looks at her with lidded eyes before his hands caress her cheeks.
He kisses her, eager for every press of her mouth. He doesn’t stop kissing her, even when she tightens her grip on his jacket and pulls him back with her. The desk hits her hip. He lifts her up onto the surface, almost knocking over her venus fly trap.
A pleased sigh escapes her lungs. She desperately moves to his jaw, down his neck. His breathing is quick, shallow. His pulse is as quick as hers.
“Clem! Clem!”
Louis yanks back, their lips parting quickly with a loud smack. She nearly topples over when he rips himself away as the bedroom door slams open and in barges Willy.
She’s disoriented, lightheaded, blinking rapidly and frantically searching for any sign of danger. All she finds is Louis, who’s now over at AJ’s desking humming incredibly loud, and Willy hurrying in with a triumphant smile.
“Clem, it’s read-!” The second he sees Louis, he stops and gasps. “Oh no!”
“Oh, look, darling!” Louis stops pretending to look at the pictures and glares at the young boy. “It’s Willy, the boy who doesn’t know how to knock! Nice of you to pop in unannounced!”
Willy’s face flushes a scarlet red as his gaze darts between the two.
Clementine slips down from the desk and tries to casually straighten out her jacket and adjust her hat with an unfazed face, even though she’s positive that her skin is blotchy with redness. However, it seems that even Willy got the sense of what was happening before he ran in.
“I’m sorry!” he blurts out. “I’ll knock next time! I swear!”
“Uh-huh,” Louis frowns. “Said that last time, didn’t you?”
Now she’s not sure who’s redder, her or Willy.
“Willy, what do you want?’ Clementine sighs. She composes herself and approaches the boy.
His eyes went to Louis before meeting hers. That’s all she needs.
“Is it Mitch?” she asks calmly.
Willy nods.
“Alright, I’ll be there in a minute. Go wait outside.”
Willy leaves without another word. Clementine holds back an annoyed sigh. The previous mood is completely gone now.
Louis gives a thoughtful frown. “I’m a little worried about him,” he says, “about Mitch, I mean. He’s been down in the basement every day for the past week. I went to check on him yesterday, down in the basement.”
Panic shoots through her stomach and into her heart.
Louis continues, “When I tried going down the stairs, he threw a shoe at me.”
“A shoe?”
“Yeah, he about hit me in my big nose!”
“Oh boy,” Clementine rolls her eyes. “Again with the nose thing?”
“I’ve accepted its abnormally monstrous size,” he says. “Anyway, I don’t know what he’s doing down there and I’m not sure I want to know. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone shout ‘no!’ and ‘out!’ that many times in a ten-second time frame. It was pretty terrifying.”
“Mitch is…” Clementine’s at a loss. While she’s thankful for Mitch’s ability to think on his feet so quickly, she wasn’t sure if she approved of the shoe method. “...Hard to understand sometimes.”
“Understatement of the night,” Louis grins. “So, why does he want to see you? Not to throw the other shoe, I hope.”
“He’s working on a project,” she says lamely. “He probably wants a second opinion on it.”
“A bomb project?”
“Yeah.”
“Better not let sweet Ruby know,” Louis says. “She’s still got a personal grudge towards Mitch’s bombs ever since that thing in the greenhouse, you know.”
“Oh, I’m aware,” she smirks. “ ‘A bomb? I will whip his ass!’”
Her Ruby impression gets a chuckle out of him. “Hope he knows a shoe’s not enough to stop her. If anything, that’s just provoking the beast.”
“He’ll have to learn that for himself,” she smiles. “Will you be okay?”
“Don’t worry about me, darling.” He grabs her hand and kisses her cheek. “I was gonna go tickle the ivories a little bit anyway. Maybe you can pop in when you’re done? Assuming Mitch doesn’t blow you up, of course.”
“Tuning the piano?” she asks with a grin.
“I’m thinking we try a real duet. You up for it?”
“Absolutely.”
She gives him a long kiss goodbye before she leaves. Her face still feels warm after all the excitement, and she’s still a little annoyed at the interruption, but if she’s right about what Willy was trying to imply, then she has to hurry. She can only hope that Mitch found a way to fix the ring.
The wait is starting to make her anxious.
---
Clementine yanks the basement doors open and a nauseating scent of vinegar knocks her in the face. “What the hell?” she gags.
“C’mon!” Willy grabs her arm and hurries down the stairs, dragging her with him. “Mitch! Clem’s here!”
Something heavy and metallic drops hard to the cement. “Shit!” Mitch curses. “Told you not to do that, Willy!”
“Sorry!”
She follows the young boy deeper into the basement and finds herself amazed at Mitch’s set up. The work desk is completely covered with drills, hammers, saws, files, batteries, a few of their solar panels and other machines she didn’t recognize. Flashlights are wired in the air pointing directly at the anvil Mitch sits in front of. There’s a chipped bowl filled with a clear liquid sitting on top.
“Finally,” Mitch says when he sees her. He stands from his stool and tosses a dirty rag away. Willy rushes to help him scoot the various tools aside so Mitch can reach something closest to the wall. It’s a small, brown box.
Clementine approaches the two boys, trying to hide her eagerness as she asks, “Well? Were you able to fix it?”
Mitch scratches at the back of his neck and turns away. “Not exactly,” he says, “It sorta snapped when I messed around with it.”
Her heart drops. “You broke it?”
Mitch whips around, holding up a hand. “Don’t cry about it,” he says quickly, “it was a shitty ring, anyway.” He grabs a small wrench from the table and swings it around on his finger nervously.
“Mitch,” she can’t help that her voice came out so miserably angry. “If you couldn’t fix it then you should’ve left it alone! What am I supposed to do now?”
“Woah, hey, don’t freak out, just listen,” he says. “I, uh, didn’t mean to break it. I started messing around with some stuff to try and melt it back together but there was no saving that thing. Kind of a piece of shit. So,” he looks away as he shoves the brown box towards her, “I did you one better.”
Willy’s practically vibrating with excitement next to them as he motions eagerly to the box. “Open it! Open it!”
Clementine takes the box and pulls the lid off. It takes her a moment to process what she’s seeing.
There’s a clean piece of fabric bunched up at the bottom, and within the folds rests two matching silver bands. Her head snaps up and her jaw drops. His shit-eating grin is enough of a confirmation that what she’s seeing is real.
“Oh my god!” she gasps. “Where did you get these?”
“Made ‘em,” Mitch says.
“What? You-” she blinks up at him in disbelief, “-you made these?”
“Super awesome, huh?” Willy laughs.
“It’s not a big deal. Oh, and the smell’ll wear off, too,” Mitch says, “had to polish ‘em with vinegar.”
Clementine carefully lifts the bigger of the two rings out of the box. “How- How did you-?”
“Quarters,” Mitch smirks. “Willy here keeps a pretty impressive coin collection.”
“We made a shit ton of them!” Willy reaches into his pocket and pulls out various different rings, most of them scratched up or disfigured in some way.
“It’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it,” Mitch shrugs. “Just gotta hammer them then drill out the middle, do some filing and hammer some more. Once I knew what I was doing, I used the measurement I took of your finger and made yours. Just needed Louis’ to complete the set. ”
Clementine runs her finger over the smooth surface, “Mitch, this is-” she stops when she notices something engraved on it. She blinks, but it’s still there scratches into the shiny surface.
C + L
“That part was Mitch’s idea,” Willy points at the tiny letters, “had to use a really sharp nail to get it that clear.”
“We’ve all seen the piano,” Mitch quickly explains, rolling his eyes, “figured it’d be a good finishing touch. No big deal.”
She puts the box on the workbench. Without any warning, she throws herself at Mitch, wrapping her arms around his now very tense body.
“Woah, hey, um-!” Mitch panics and sticks his arms out to avoid touching her.
“Mitch, you have no idea what this means to me.”
“Uh-!”
He turns to Willy, bewildered. The young boy begins to laugh as he points at Mitch’s panicked face.
Then, like the realization that they’re hugging finally hits him over the head, he jerks back. He nearly trips over his feet when he turns away back towards the work desk. He clears his throat.
“Said it’s not a big fucking deal, just,” he grumbles, fumbling with the wrench, “... consider it a wedding present, or whatever.”
Clementine can’t help but laugh at how weirdly cute it is that he’s embarrassed. She picks up the rings again to pull out the smaller one. It fits perfectly on her finger.
“I don’t know if I could ever thank you two enough for doing this.”
“Yeah, well, y’know,” Mitch nervously scratches his cheek, a rare smile betraying his lips, “whatever.”
”Mitch! Ya still down here!?” Ruby’s voice echoes from the top of the stairs. “Lou’s in the music room! Did’ja find the box of spare candles? We’re gonna need a lot to fill the whole place up!”
“Oh, shit-” Mitch hisses.
Clementine closes the small box and shoves it into her pocket before turning to face Ruby.
“Clementine!” she gasps. Now, it’s Clementine’s turn to receive a surprise hug when Ruby practically tackles her. “Oh, hon, I heard the news! Why didn’t ya tell me!? This is so excitin’!” Ruby pulls away to ask the boys, “Did’ja give ‘em to her yet?”
Clementine slowly turns to glare at the two boys.
Willy lowers his head in shame and Mitch fake coughs into his fist. Neither of them answers the question, nor do they dare look Clementine in the eye.
“Mitch-”
“Before you flip the fuck out,” Mitch starts, ”she’s the one who came in here demanding to know what we were doing! She tried to wack me with one of Omar’s wooden spoons!”
“Oh, no I didn’t! I said I would wack ya with one if ya didn’t explain yerself!” argues Ruby. “I thought ya were makin’ another bomb!”
“I haven’t messed with that shit for, like, weeks!”
And, suddenly, Clementine’s exhausted.
“Okay, stop!” She raises her voice above theirs. The basement’s quiet again. She takes a deep breath. “I’m not mad.”
“You sound mad,” says Willy.
“I’m not. You guys were going to find out about it anyway, though I can’t say I expected it to go down like this. Does anyone else know?”
“No,” says Ruby and Mitch.
“Uhm, well…” Willy nervously laughs.
“Dude,” Mitch frowns down at the young boy.
“I didn’t mean to! Aasim saw me going through my coin collection earlier! Then he started asking all these questions and it just came out!”
Great, she thinks. She’s not worried about it, though. Aasim is a lot of things, and a great secret keeper is one of them.
“Anyone else?” Clementine asks.
Willy shakes his head.
So, of the people in their group, AJ, James, Mitch, Willy, Ruby, and Aasim all know.
That just leaves Omar, Tenn, and…
And Violet.
She’s about to speak, but Ruby grabs her hand to admire the ring. “Wow, it’s even prettier on,” she gleams. “Gotta say, boys, ya did a real good job.”
“Well, yeah.”
“How’re ya gonna ask him? We were thinkin’ that you do it in the music room, of course, and we’ll help ya decorate it with candles and lanterns, make it real romantic.”
“Gross,” Mitch murmurs.
“Hush,” Ruby warns him. “Or, on the roof, under the pretty stars! Or, we can even decorate your bedroom! Whattya think? Omar can cook ya something special and, oh! I found some real pretty classical records fer ya to play!”
“We can make some cool fireworks, too!” Willy exclaims.
“Oh, no you won’t! No bombs, no fireworks!”
“Wow, Ruby,” Clementine’s astonished at the girl’s excitement. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”
“‘Course! I know I may be buttin’ in a little but I never thought I’d get to witness somethin’ like this after all that’s happened! I mean, ya don’t hafta take my suggestions! You can ask him any way you want! Just know that we’re all here to help! Oh, and the wedding!”
“Oh, God,” Mitch groans.
“We’re definitely plannin’ a wedding!”
“Geez, who’s really getting married here?” Mitch asks, irritated. “You or Clem?”
“Oh, can it! Why can’t you just be excited?”
“Excited about what? Does nothing for me.”
“Y’know, thinkin’ ‘bout someone else fer a change won’t kill ya!”
“Okay, please stop fighting!” Clementine interrupts them. “Look, let me get through the actual proposal before we start doing anything else.”
“Shit,” Ruby curses herself, “sorry, Clem. Guess I got a little excited.”
“So, what’s the plan?” Willy asks eagerly.
Clementine peers down at the ring on her finger, and says, “I think I’m going to do it tomorrow. In the evening. I like your idea, Ruby, about the candles in the music room.”
“Thought ya would,” Ruby grins. “We keep a bunch of ‘em down here. We’ll all help ya decorate, ‘cept keepin’ Louis outta there might be a task.”
“That’s easy,” Mitch says. “Send him hunting for the day, him and Aasim.”
“My goodness, there’s an idea,” says Ruby, “that way, Aasim can keep an eye on him and make sure he don’t wander back here unannounced.”
“James, too,” Clementine adds. “Just in case Louis doesn’t listen to Aasim, or they get in a tight spot.”
“Right!” Ruby claps her hands. “Oh, I’m gettin’ excited again!”
“I think you’re more excited than she is,” Mitch shakes his head.
“No,” Clementine smiles. “Believe me, I don’t think anyone’s as excited as I am.” She holds up her hand to admire her ring one last time before slipping it back in the box. “We just have to be careful now. Louis can’t know anything.”
They all turn to Willy, who hangs his head in shame once more.
“I said it was an accident.”
“I know,” Clementine sighs. “Maybe you should avoid him for now, Willy. Just in case. And, Mitch,” she turns to him, “don’t throw any more shoes at him.”
“Hey, you want him wandering down here? No, you don’t. Thought we established that. ‘Sides, the ring’s done. Nothing left for me to work on.”
“Right, but still, you can’t be acting suspicious. He’s already worried about you. That’s why he tried to come down here yesterday.”
“Pfft,” Mitch scowls. “Worried…”
“Well, while we know Lou’s in the music room, I’ll gather everyone and we can discuss the plan. Don’t worry, we’ll be discreet,” Ruby assures her. “Mitch, yer on candle and match duty. Willy, tomorrow mornin’ I want ya ta go out and pick as many pretty flowers as ya can.”
“Aw,” Willy pouts, “how come I got flower duty?”
“It’s either that or ya gotta help Omar cook. Yer choice.”
Willy doesn’t argue. Omar’s a genuinely nice guy, but he’s also brutally honest and a very particular cook. Willy wasn’t going to willingly put himself into that nightmare.
Soon, they have all the details worked out.
Aasim and James will take Louis far away to go hunting until evening, giving them a few hours to set up.
Ruby will work on setting up a little picnic area for them on the floor and figure out the music. Willy will go around with Tenn and AJ to pick enough flowers for a bouquet, as well as decorate an old vase to put them in. Omar will cook them something extra special, and Mitch will gather all the candles and place them in the safest places around the music room.
As for Clementine herself, she’ll help fix things up in the piano room, sure, but there’s something else she wants to try. Something that she’s been contemplating for the past week.
She hides the box in her jacket with a big, dumb grin stuck on her face. She still can’t believe that Mitch and Willy actually made her a matching set of wedding rings. She tries not to show it, but the very thought of both her and Louis wearing them makes her giddy.
But, there’s still an issue pressing in her mind.
“Ruby?” Clementine’s grin is replaced with a worrying frown. “Are… are you going to tell Violet?”
And, just like that, the room becomes tense.
“Violet?” asks Willy.
“Oh, well, shoot,” Ruby mutters, “didn’t even think of Vi.”
“Don’t fucking bother,” Mitch snaps. “She’s not gonna give a shit, and if she does, she’ll just ruin the whole thing.”
Ruby looks up at Mitch with distraught eyes. “We gotta tell her, Mitch. She’ll be left out-”
“Oh, don’t start with that bullshit. Why do you anyways try to include that bitch?”
“You bite yer tongue, right now!”
A sick feeling comes over her. Clementine can’t quite place what it actually is, but it always boils within her whenever the idea of talking to Violet strikes her.
Over the past two years, she’s tried talking to Violet. Not big things. Saying, “Hello,” or “How are you?” or “Are you okay?” And every single time, Violet doesn’t mutter a single word. All she gives is a glare and the view of her back as she walks away.
She’d told Louis once how much she missed Violet.
He had watched her suffer after losing Violet as a close friend. There were a few nights just after the delta that Clementine found herself crying, and he was there to hold her, to promise her that Violet would come around, she just needed time.
When Louis tried to fix things between her and Violet, it became apparent that he just cares too damn much.
She can still remember that night. He’d snuck into the darkness of the room. AJ was fast asleep.
Clementine can remember the rage filling her insides when she saw the bruise forming on his face and the tears slipping down his cheeks. She barely made it to the door before Louis grabbed her, begging her not to go after Violet, that she didn’t even know what happened. AJ woke up, and Louis lied about what was wrong. It was only when they were alone in the hallway that he told her what happened.
They’d gotten into an argument, Louis and Violet. An argument about her. Louis defended her and tried to understand Violet’s animosity but she refused to talk. She only cussed and shoved him away. He’d gotten too close, and like a reflex, she swung.
Violet didn’t come out of her room for two weeks after that. She spoke to no one but Tenn when he brought her food.
She didn’t come out until Louis spoke to her again.
And it all happened because of her…
“Don’t worry about it, Ruby,” Clementine speaks up. “I’ll tell her.”
“The fuck you will!” Mitch‘s brow furrows in fury and his fists curl.
“It’s not like she’ll try to stab me just for talking to her,” Clementine argues.
“Oh yeah? Just like how she didn’t try to stab you after the delta, right? For fuck's sake, had Louis not stepped in you would’ve had a nice big gash right between your eyes! She’s a fucking traitor, Clem!”
“Mitch!” Ruby gasps out. “Don’t talk so ugly! Maybe it’s time they finally sort this out-”
“Fuck that!”
Clementine straightens herself out and confidently stands up to Mitch. “I appreciate your concern, Mitch, but-”
“My concern?” Mitch glares. “What, my concern that I’ll have to dig your grave when that bitch snaps and puts a cleaver in you?”
“Mitch!”
“She wouldn’t really do that, right?” Willy says, eyes widening.
“No, she wouldn’t,” says Clementine. “And Ruby’s right. I’m tired of this. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life avoiding her. It’s time to end this. Maybe we won’t ever be friends again, but we can at least be on speaking terms."
“How can you say that? After everything she did? She’s not gonna give a shit. Fuck, if anything, she’ll sabotage your wedding!”
“Not when Louis is involved,” Clementine meets Mitch’s glare. “I’m going to talk to her whether you like it or not. She’s not going to hurt me, and she’s not going to do anything. She may hate me, but if she really does care about Louis, she won’t try and hurt him again.”
Mitch fumes with rage, his lips pressed into a hard, thin line. Willy cautiously grabs ahold of Mitch’s sleeve, worried about what he might do. Ruby steps up beside her and places a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.
“If it’s really what’cha wanna do, I can’t stop you,” she shoots Mitch a look, “and neither can he. Just... promise you’ll be careful?”
“Thank you, Ruby.”
“Fucking shit,” Mitch hisses under his breath before pointing at her. “You’re not going alone. I’ll go with you and make sure she doesn’t pull anything.”
“You don’t have to-”
“Yeah, I don’t have to do anything,” he frowns. “But, I’m gonna.”
Clementine softens a bit. She had to admit that having backup did make her feel a little bit better. While she was sure Violet wouldn’t try to physically hurt her, it didn’t hurt to be careful. Then again, she might be doubly pissed to see Mitch, as well. “And you won’t threaten her?”
“No promises.”
“Mitch.”
He stares, then lowers his head in defeat. “I won’t say nothin’ unless I gotta.” Then, he turns to Willy. “You okay to clean this place up yourself?”
“Yeah, no problem.” Willy smiles.
“Well, ehm, guess I’ll get Aasim and James and tell ‘em ‘bout the plan,” says Ruby. “Violet should be in her room. She usually turns in early when she doesn’t have watch.”
Clementine nods. The feeling’s back, twisting in her gut and accelerating her heart.
With that, they leave the basement.
---
Violet’s door is shut.
Clementine makes no move to knock.
Mitch is beside her, waiting.
Her arms feel heavy, weighed down with dread. She didn’t even know what to say. She ran through different scenarios in her head and they’re all a jumbled mess.
She hears a sigh. Mitch leans over and knocks on the door.
They wait.
He knocks again, this time harder.
Nothing.
“Shit,” Mitch mutters. “Either she’s not here, or she’s ignoring us.”
Neither option would surprise her.
“Maybe this isn’t a good idea,” she whispers to herself.
“I coulda told you that,” Mitch mumbles. He knocks again.
Footsteps turn her attention down the hall.
Violet stands alert, angry eyes focused in on the two of them and arms crossed. It’s enough to send any normal person to hightail it out of there, but not her. Clementine closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, telling herself to remain calm.
“Violet,” she says, though not with confidence.
“What the fuck do you two want?”
It’s like someone injected ice into her veins. “I-” Clementine clears her throat. Her voice feels so small, insignificant. She pushes all her feelings aside, just like how she used to. “We need to talk.”
Violet scoffs.
“It’s important, Vi-”
“Fuck. Off.”
Then, they’re close, face to face. Violet’s glare bores straight into her. Mitch pushes her back and stands in between them.
“Watch it,” he warns.
Clementine moves from behind Mitch and pleads, “Please, Violet. I just want to talk-”
“I don’t really give a shit what you want.”
“Can you just fucking chill?” snaps Mitch.
“Can you go fuck yourself?”
“You-!”
“Mitch! Knock it off!” Clementine exclaims. “You’re not helping.”
He backs off, but not much. He keeps his attention on Violet, watching the girl’s every move.
Clementine tries again. “It won’t take long. It’s about Louis.”
That catches her attention.
“Can we talk?” Clementine asks again, this time much softer. “Privately?”
“Before that, though,” Mitch holds out his hand. “Give it.”
Violet doesn’t move.
“I know you have it.”
The tension between the two as they scowl at each other is suffocating. Clementine reaches and pulls out the knife she always carries.
“Here,” she offers it to Mitch.
He doesn’t take his eyes off Violet, even when he takes the handle.
“I’m unarmed now,” Clementine says. “Please, Vi…”
She breaks her gaze away from Mitch to look at the floor.
“Fine.”
Violet pulls her cleaver out and tosses it down the hallway.
“You wanna talk?” She shoves her door open, turning to glower at Clementine. “Let’s talk.”
She walks into the dorm room, straight to her desk. She takes her chair, turns it around, and sits facing Clementine, waiting.
Suddenly, she’s terrified. Not the kind of terrified like when there are walkers, or like the terror she feels when someone gets hurt or doesn’t come back on time. This is a terror of facing Violet with the possibility of saying the wrong thing and shattering that little piece of lost hope for their friendship.
This is her last chance.
Mitch gives her a firm nod. “I’ll be right out here.” She knows he says it more to Violet than to her.
Clementine closes the door behind her.
They’re alone.
Fuck.
Where did she even begin?
She can’t bring herself to look at Violet, so she does a quick glance over of the room. It’s similar to hers, but with only one bed and nothing to decorate the walls. It’s empty.
“Well?” Violet asks.
Clementine digs deep inside herself. She decides that she has to be as honest as possible, otherwise this whole thing could backfire.
“It’s been two years,” she starts. “Two years without really talking to you. I know that you still hate me, and I know that I’ll probably never be able to change that, but I just don’t understand why.” She waits for a reaction but gets none. “I don’t want to fight with or avoid you anymore. I- ...I really miss you, Vi.”
“You are un-fucking-believable.”
Clementine bites the inside of her cheek. Breathe in, breathe out. She tries to ignore the absolute loathing that vibrates from the other girl, and she recalls that last time someone looked at her like that.
Why… that had to be when Sarita died.
“Is that really all you have to say?” Violet asks. “You miss me? Fucking really?”
“We used to be friends before everything happened. Remember my first night here?” Clementine asks. “When you came in looking for that pencil box and we talked? And the card game and-”
“I remember,” Violet interrupts, “I remember being grateful to have another girl around to talk to. You said I kicked walker ass. You were so nice, and you listened to everything I had to say.”
She looks down to the wooden floors.
“I also remember AJ shooting Marlon. I remember everyone turning against you, ready to throw you both out right then and there. I also remember stopping them. I stood between you and a group of kids ready to tear you apart with nothing but my meat cleaver.”
Violet leans forward with her burning gaze.
“You know what else I remember? I remember voting for you to stay. I remember telling them that it was bullshit that you had to leave. I remember leaving you out there in the woods and then seeing that boot on your neck and shooting my bow to save your life. I was at your side the entire time, being the only one to defend you, to listen to you! I let you back into our school! But, do you know what I remember the most?”
“Vi-”
“I remember when the raiders finally got here and the bomb went off. I saw you fall off the balcony and I saw Lilly point her fucking gun right at you. And I stopped her. I tackled her to the ground.”
Violet stands.
“I saved your life.”
Clementine remains still, even as Violet advances towards her, slowly, one step at a time.
“And I remember looking for you. Seeing you.”
They’re barely a footstep apart now.
“And you just let them take me.”
“That’s not what happened!” Clementine protests.
“Then, what did happen, Clem? Why didn’t you save me?” Violet spits. “Because I have a pretty good idea.”
“What? Vi, I told you, I- I didn’t have enough time or a clear shot-”
“Bullshit,” Violet says. “Tell me the truth.”
Clementine searches the fury held in Violet’s eyes and finds she can’t speak. She opens her mouth, stuttering.
Violet leans close, whispering.
“You chose him.”
The words hang in the air between them.
“You chose him,” she repeats. “He wanted you gone. He wanted to leave you out there in those woods to die. He wanted nothing to do with you or AJ. And you still chose him.”
“Vi, that’s not-”
“Shut up!” Violet snaps. “I was there for you, not him! And you still saved him! Why? Because he batted his eyes at you and said sorry?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about-”
“The fuck I don’t! You two barely said a word to each other the whole time we prepped-!”
“That’s not true-!”
“-and then we play some stupid card game and you’re suddenly putty in his hands? Suddenly you have feelings for him? You decide to play that stupid piano with him instead of preparing for our fucking doom? Like fucking around with him was more important than our lives?”
“That’s not how it went down and you know it!”
Violet lets out an angry groan, turning around and kicking at her bed frame. “Just admit it, Clem, you left me to rot so that you and Louis could live to kiss another day!”
“Don’t twist it around like that!” Clementine glares. “I couldn’t let them take him-”
“Oh, but you were happy to let them take me?”
“No! I saved him but that doesn’t mean I didn’t try to save you or anyone else!”
“Bullshit!”
“Raiders were everywhere and then the walkers came in! I did the best I could to try and protect as many of us as possible!”
“Well, you did a shit job.”
Clementine’s nails bite into her palm as her fists tighten. Her heart is hard in her chest, it’s beat vibrating her entire body. “I’m sorry that they got you, Vi, I am. I always will be, but there wasn’t anything I could do except plan to save you. We all risked our lives to go back for you!”
“You should’ve just left us-”
“How can you say that? You’re here, alive and at home because of what we did!”
“So? You have no fucking idea what it was like on that ship, Clem. What they did to us.” Violet turns back to face her. “What they did to Minnie. They threatened us with inhumane things like it was nothing- Like we were nothing! Just dogs ready to be mutilated and thrown out if we didn’t sit down and roll over!”
“Then how can you say that I should’ve left you?”
“Because at least I would’ve had Minnie-”
“Violet, you were there when she admitted to killing Sophie! You were there when they tried to cut Louis’ hand off! When they took AJ away! They threatened you! And you still tried to stop me from breaking out! We’d all be dead if I hadn’t done anything and you know it! That wasn’t the Minerva you knew! How could you-”
“Do you know what it’s like to lose someone twice? Someone you loved more than you could ever love yourself? No, you don’t! Minnie never would’ve let them hurt me! She protected me, told me how to be safe while I was locked up! All you ever did was abandon me when I gave you so much. I never would’ve left you.”
“If that’s the case, then put yourself in my position!” Clementine roughly pokes Violet in the chest. “If it’d been you with the bow, and you had to try and save both me and Minerva, what would you have done?”
For the first time in several minutes, the room’s quiet.
Clementine steps back to steady herself. “You already know your answer. You would’ve tried to save us both but you also know that you would’ve tried to save her first.”
“It’s different- I loved Minnie-”
“I loved Louis-”
“You barely knew him!”
“I barely knew you!”
“It’s not the same thing, Clem! You may love him now but you didn’t love him then, so don’t even try and pull that shit with me!”
Violet turns her back to her, still shaking with resent.
Clementine’s throat is sore, and her chest aches. Frustration wets her eyes. Her head, filled with so many thoughts and so many emotions, feels ready to cave in under the pressure of the room.
“...What do you want me to say?” Clementine whispers.
Violet shakes her head. “There’s nothing you can say. It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t change that I thought you cared about me more than you really did.”
“I did- I do care about you, Vi. Why do you think I’m here?”
“Because Louis sent you.”
“No, he didn’t.”
Violet scoffs.
“He didn’t,” Clementine reassures. “I’m here because I want to be. I meant what I said, Vi. I miss you, and I want us to be friends again. I know that’s asking for too much, that you will never forgive me for what I did. But, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Violet. I hate that I can’t just talk to you like I could before. I hate that we can’t play stupid card games together with Louis. I hate seeing you hide away from everyone. We all miss you.”
Violet faces her again with an unreadable expression.
“Okay, Clem,” she says slowly. “Say I forgive. Say we work this out and become friends again. We’ll play our stupid card games and have a grand ol’ time.” Violet shrugs her shoulders, weakly motioning to her. “Everything’s all sunshine and rainbows. But, what happens when a new set of raiders come knocking on our doors?” She brushes her bangs out of her face, holding her hand against her head. “What happens when they break in again and I need your help?”
“That’s not going to happen-”
“No? It’s not?” Violet gives a dry laugh. “Let me tell you what’ll happen, Clem. I’ll look for you, and all I will see is your back when you run to Louis’ side.”
Clementine closes her eyes and lowers her head.
“You’ve made your choice,” says Violet. “And I won’t be hurt again because of it.”
She moves to the window, peering out. Clementine watches her with nothing to say. What can she say? That none of it is true? Keep denying it so they stay in this constant loop of arguments.
“Most days, I hate him, too.”
“What?” Clementine asks.
“Did he ever tell you what happened? After you knocked Minnie out?” Violet peers over her shoulder at her.
“Just that he and Aasim helped you out.”
Violet turns back to the window and runs her finger over the glass, smudging it.
“Louis had to carry me out. I kicked, punched, screamed, scratched, bit… anything I could to get him to put me down. Got him right in the chin a couple times, made him bleed. And he just wouldn’t let me go. He dragged me out of there… and we just left Minnie lying there.” She presses her forehead against the cool glass.
Clementine knew that they’d left Minerva there. Louis had confessed it to her one night after one of his nightmares. He had cried about it until he physically couldn’t anymore.
Even though Louis hated her in those last moments, hated what Minerva had become, he still occasionally wept for the girl he used to know.
“Know what he told me? After we got back?”
Clementine almost doesn’t hear her she’s so quiet.
Violet smiles, actually smiles. “He said he loved me. Called me family.”
Clementine’s lip curls, just a bit, into what could be a smile, as well.
Until Violet says, “I hate that he loves you.”
“...What?”
“It drives me insane, the fact that you love each other. He thinks the world of you, y’know. He never talks about you when he’s with me, but I can just see it on that stupid face of his. He fucking adores you. You and AJ.” She goes quiet. “You’re his family now.”
“He still loves you, Violet.”
“I know,” she murmurs. “He tells me all the time.”
“So, why do you hate him? Because of Minerva?”
Violet shakes her head.
“Honestly?”
Clementine risks taking a few steps closer.
“Because now I’m no one’s first choice,” she whispers. “He’d pick you first, always. He proved that after we escaped… after I attacked you. He didn’t even hesitate.”
After the delta ship completely sank and they all regrouped, Violet had lunged at her, knocked her to ground. But, she didn’t stand a chance, not with everyone there. Not even with the knife she’d stolen off of Clementine.
But, it was Louis that stepped in front of her, shielded her from the distraught girl she once called a friend. He was ready to wrestle the knife away from her if words didn’t work.
Thankfully, it never came to that.
“I’ll always be taken.” Violet’s voice cracks.
It takes the tears spilling over to make Clementine realize she’s actually crying. Her first instinct is to reach out and grab her, but then Violet turns and glares at her again.
“Violet-”
“You got what you wanted. We talked. I don’t think there’s anything else left to say.”
That’s far from the truth. There’s still so, so much more.
I wish I could take your pain away.
I wish I could have saved you, too.
Louis loves you. Tenn loves you. I love you. We all love you.
We miss you.
You don’t have to be scared.
You don’t have to be alone.
And, of course, the whole reason for this.
Violet, I’m asking Louis to marry me tomorrow.
But, she doesn’t say any of those things.
Instead, she wipes tears off her cheeks.
“I’ll never let anyone take you again, Vi,” she musters up all her confidence. “We’re family.”
“...You need to leave.” Violet turns her back to her one final time. “We’re done.”
She doesn’t want to.
She hesitates, waiting for Violet to change her mind.
And when she doesn’t, she leaves.
Mitch is there, right next to the door with a sullen expression. There’s no doubt in her mind that he heard nearly every word spoken between them.
The door closes with a soft click.
His hand touches her shoulder gently.
“You okay?”
She shakes her head.
“It’s late,” she says. “I- ...I need to find Louis.”
Mitch nods. With a comforting hand on her shoulder, the two head down the hall.
They stop when there’s an anguished scream and the sound of broken glass.
Clementine whips around and dashes for Violet’s room.
The door flings open and Violet runs out. She goes the opposite direction, turning the corner and out of sight.
“Violet!” Clementine calls.
Mitch stops her from going after her.
“She’s probably going to Tenn’s room,” he says. “Best not to get in her way.”
Shit.
She feels Mitch watching her. She rubs at her tired eyes and pushes all the air out of her lungs in a heavy sigh. She looks over into Violet’s room. The cause of the breaking glass sound is evident on the floor. From here, she can see it’s a framed photo of Violet, Minerva, and Sophie.
“Look,” Mitch says, “I’ll follow her and make sure she gets to Tenn fine, okay?”
She glances up at him and tries to smile. “Thank you.”
He pats her shoulder one last time before going down the hall.
Now, she’s alone in the middle of the hallway with a lump in her throat and an overwhelming desire to be in Louis’ arms.
---
“Oh, there you are!” Clementine finds him back in their room.
“I was starting to get worried when you didn’t show up to tune the piano. I thought Mitch really did blow you up this time.”
His laugh is warm and contagious.
“I got caught up…” she says.
“Right, well, I was about to leave to go find you and-”
Now that he’s closer, it’s no doubt that he can see the redness ringing her eyes or the stains on her cheeks. She turns away from him, slipping her jacket off and putting it over the back of her chair.
“Clementine?”
His warm hand grabs hers tenderly. The lump is back. Her chin quivers.
“Hey,” he pulls her to look at him and seeing his sincere, beautiful face breaks something inside her. She buries herself in his chest and holds onto him for dear life. She’s immediately enveloped in his warmth.
Violet’s words echo and repeat in her mind. The guilt, the sorrow, it makes her knees weak. She crumbles.
Louis is there to hold her up.
He rubs her back, kisses her forehead, her cheeks. His thumb brushes away any loose tears. He murmurs reassurances in her ear.
They end up in bed, wrapped around each other comfortably with an old CD player resting on Louis’ hip. They share a pair of old, dingy headphones. Classical, soothing piano hums in her ear.
It’s their favorite CD.
Sometimes, Louis’ nightmares get so bad that the music is the only to bring him back. Sometimes, when it’s been a particularly stressful day, or when the exhaustion catches up with them, they lie in bed and listen. They enjoy the comfort of each other’s touch, of each others breathing and beating hearts.
He traces the letters of her name on the back of her hand.
She plants a tender kiss on his chin, right where his scar is.
“I talked to Violet,” she murmurs against his skin.
His hand stills.
She doesn’t say any more. He doesn’t need her to. He pulls her closer, pressing her free ear against his chest. His heart thumps calmly as if in beat with the calm piano.
She tries to put Violet and her words, her face, out of her mind. She thinks about how filled with glee AJ was when she told him the news. She pictures her and AJ standing side by side with their arms hooked together, ready to walk. It brings a small smile to her lips.
She thinks about the rings tucked safely away in her pant pockets. She tries picturing the ring on Louis’ finger. That makes her smile grow.
She considers pulling them out now. She could do it. She could propose now, and they could celebrate the night away.
But, she won't. Not when she has something even better planned.
She glances up at him. His eyes have fluttered shut. A grin remains on his lips.
Tomorrow is so close.
“Louis?” She whispers.
“Clementine?”
“I love you.”
He doesn’t hesitate.
“I love you, too.”
#twdg#twdg fanfiction#twdg clouis#twdg louisentine#twdg louis#twdg clementine#twdg aj#twdg violet#twdg ruby#twdg mitch#twdg willy#twdg aasim#twdg omar#twdg james#twdg rosie#louis twdg#clementine twdg#clouis#louisentine#clementine x louis#louis x clementine#twdg tenn
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8 TIPS FOR MAKING THE MOST OUT OF YOUR UNIVERSITY EXPERIENCE!
Deciding to become a university student is a huge investment of both time and money. You don't want to start only to have to drop out due to finances or failing grades. You also don't want to finish and find that all you have is a piece of paper with mountains of debt and no job prospects.
The average cost of a 4-year Bachelor's degree is about $36k at a public university, and about $136k at a private university. Google the yearly cost of your school of choice, then multiply by 4. Then add on about 5k for the additional costs of books and travel fees, clothing, and other miscellaneous. Then add on about 10k for the interest that your student loan debt will incur! 😫
The average cost of graduate degrees can vary by school and concentration, but can easily cost over 90k for tuition alone. Student loan debt is not a joke! Invest your time wisely while you're in school so you don't end up regretting your decision and sharecropping your life away in some 9-5 that you hate.
So, here are my tips for making the most of your time as a university student! Whether you're in undergrad or graduate school, I hope this advice helps you! I'm not going to give you the basic "go to every single class" bullshit. While that's undoubtedly good advice, I want to be a bit more practical and dig a little deeper. I think if you're paying for an experience like college, it's obvious that you should attempt to be as immersed in that experience as possible. You're not going to pay for entrance to a water park then stay off the slides and out of the pool, are you? No, you're going to jump in and go on as many rides as possible! At university, you're paying for school, so you need to treat it the same way. If you're paying for a class, obviously you should go as often as you possibly can. So in the hopes that I can be practical without being trite, I'm going to address the finer details of the college experience. From the perspective of a woman who's in the process of finishing her 2nd Master's degree (at an Ivy League school, no less), you can take it or leave it!
1. Update your resume as soon as you commit to a school and give them your deposit.
As soon as you've paid the deposit to the school of your choose and sent back your decision letter, go ahead and update your resume. If you don't have a resume, make one now! There are plenty of templates online you can follow.
Include your new school and anticipated graduation date under the "Education" section. (You can add it to your social media bios too, if you're into that sort of thing.) The truth of the matter is, the moment you pay the deposit to the school, you've paid for the brand name. You might as well start wielding and wearing it ASAP! This will help you as you apply for internships for the summer after high school and during your freshman year of college.
2. Once on campus, join clubs and student associations.
This is super important! So much of college is about networking. Once you graduate and leave campus, your college network can help you find jobs, travel, keep you up to date with learning opportunities/conferences, or even help you settle into to a new city. It's important to make authentic connections with people on campus outside of your immediate friend group, and a great way to do that is through common interest clubs or associations. Attend a programs fair and check your school's websites and message boards to find events.
Once you've decided which clubs you want to join, make sure to introduce yourself to the leadership! By getting to know the club leaders, you can make sure you'll always know what's next for the group so that you can take part and continue to build community.
3. Spend as much time as you can at the library and in other public study spaces on/around campus.
Most university libraries will have cafés, help desks, computer labs, and even group study areas. Often it's okay to talk in the group study areas, so you can always take a break from studying and do a bit of socializing when you need to. When you need more privacy or quiet space, it's typically available just a room or a floor away! Bring healthy snacks like carrots and almonds and chocolate-covered espresso beans or raisins to keep you energized and alert.
Studying is obviously an important part of being in college. You don't want to get into the job field without fluency in the language/jargon or requisite content knowledge that is necessary to succeed!
4. Use the "free" time to develop your genuine interests and hobbies.
If you have the time and don't have a ton of responsibility to other people in your family, take advantage of that! You likely won't have a lot of time like that in your life again. Use this period to follow your curiosities and your interests. Make art! Join an intramural sport! Experiment with fashion! Work part-time in a place you never thought you would! The possibilities are endless. As my dad would say, "It's your world, squirrel!" (He's really corny.)
5. Be as discerning as possible with the classes you take - you are paying for each of them, after all!
Take classes that really interest you, with professors you truly want to learn from. Read the class descriptions carefully, and do research on the professors. Try to get professors that have great ratings, multiple publishings in reputable journals, books, and websites, and a good track records of helping students.
Many colleges have core curricula that you must complete to graduate. If the classes in your core don't interest you, see if you can find ways to navigate the system so that there's a silver lining or so you can make the best out of them. Always give it a shot, you may find that you're more interested once you attend than you were by reading the description alone.
Even if the class isn't of interest, the people there probably are - especially if everyone has to take it! Whether that's ensuring you get the best professor that's offered or finding a great group of friends to struggle through it with, get to know the people around you. Maybe you decide to develop a working relationship with the TA by attending office hours and asking questions about how to contextualize the content in a way that's more engaging for you or more aligned with your interests. To do this, just explain your interests or proposed field of study and ask them for examples of how you can transfer the knowledge you're learning in class toward your interest.
Another option is seeing if you can take the class pass/fail. If this is possible and the class isn't aligned with what you feel your true academic interests are, then don't expend too much effort. Attend lecture, pass the class, and devote your time to your other interests. (This is an option only for people who are serious about not failing the class. Make sure you calculate what scores you'll need to pass exams and other requirements like attendance, and hold yourself accountable to these. Do your absolute best on your papers! Taking a class pass/fail is NOT an excuse to slack off or avoid doing your best work, but it may be a way for you to free up some time if you calculate your grades and find that you don't need to do every single assignment to pass.)
6. If you can find a work-study job or start a side hustle *without* jeopardizing your grades, do so!
Again, the student loans are no joke. I avoid taking them if I can, because I hate debt. Of course, this means I occasionally have had to pay tuition out of my own pocket. I held 3 jobs when I was in undergrad and have always had side hustles even while working 9-5. Many of my favorites have included babysitting, tutoring, pet/house sitting, DJing, and party planning. I know a lot of people in grad school who also worked in restaurants or as delivery drivers, as administrative aids in university offices, law offices, and medical practices. Nowadays, a lot of people work as as influencers, photographers, video editors, and models for their side hustles. I always preferred jobs that were lowkey so I could study. My favorite work-study job was at the library! I always got to see my friends and I could read PDF copies of my assignments while I sat at the circulation desk.
7. Find out about scholarships and fellowships that are offered by different departments in your university.
A lot of fellowships and scholarships are only advertised internally by department and school. Spend time on your department's website and stop by the department office every few weeks to make sure you're up to date on the opportunities that are being offered to students. Become a frequent patron of Financial Aid to see what is available through that office as well.
Additionally, feel free to email the department chair/other professors to ask if they know of any fellowships or scholarship opportunities that may come up in the future so you can be prepared. Ask about qualifications for those as well, so you can plan ahead.
Do your research and make sure you qualify for these opportunities! In writing your essays, attend to each point of criteria laid out in the "call for applications." Treat your essay similarly to how you'd apply for the job. Why are you the right person to receive this money? How do you fulfill the criteria that this scholarship is supporting?
8. If you're struggling with your studies, use the resources on campus that you're *already paying for* in order to get back on track.
This includes TA and professor office hours, peer tutors, the writing center (most universities will have offices that can help you structure and edit your essays, etc.).
Join or create study groups by finding a partner in your class to study with, and ask the university librarians (and your advisor!) what other resources/tutoring/study help is available on campus.
A strong foundation in the content knowledge for your field of choice is a necessity once your graduate. My father always told me, "The key to success is uncommon knowledge." I agree with this somewhat, but I really believe it's actually that the key is an uncommon thirst for mastery. You move forward in your career and your personal development by learning and mastering new levels of skill. The more you know and the better you can communicate, the more respected you'll be in your field - which opens the door to further opportunities. Studying (and studying *well*) is imperative during your time at university!
Good luck this year, scholars! Work smarter & always remember, education is the key! We cannot dismantle the master's house with the master's tools//we are the gold we wanna hold! Go forth & make this school year your bitch!
Xoxo,
Kiki
(c) 2019 by Kiki Feliz
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Winding London Roads
Rating: T
Genre: Fluff
Word count: 2955
Summary: Baz wants to ask Simon to move in with him. But he can never make things easy for himself. Based on "obstacle course" request.
Read on AO3
AN: I wasn't sure what "obastacle course" would mean fic wise. I considered doing Simon and Baz in a sort of Indiana Jones-esque scenario, but that ended up getting too long to write considering my school workload and still editing/posting my big bang. I may write it in the future but who tf knows with me. So enjoy this fluff :)
———————————————-
Baz
After all these years, I’ve realised Simon Snow isn’t going to die kissing me. He’s going to die while driving me.
“Aleister Crowley, Snow, watch out!” I yell. Simon just stops before we get hit by a lorry coming in the round about. It lets out a low, long honk at us. Simon glares at me across his shoulder.
“What the fuck Baz?” he snaps. “Don’t scare me like that!”
I glare right back. “Don’t get us hit by a lorry, then I won’t scare you.”
“I wasn’t going to hit it.” I don’t bother to argue. He’s obviously not going to budge.
This is a terrible idea. Absolutely horrendous. Snow has no business being behind the wheel, especially with me in the passenger seat. But he insisted on it. He’s got his learner’s permit and wants to drive as much as possible to learn. Which means he’s stubbornly decided to drive us to Crowley knows where for some sort of date. If we don’t die before then.
Simon pulls into the roundabout (without crashing us into anything, thank Merlin). He goes far too slow though, and we get many angry honks. It sounds like bloody New York City. But we make our way around eventually, Simon almost misses the exit of course.
“Why couldn't you practice driving some other time?” I ask. “Why must you practice in the middle of bloody London?”
“Because I’m taking you somewhere. And it’s a surprise.”
“You could’ve taken me on the tube.”
“Yeah, but I also need to practice driving in London. It’s where I’ll be driving when I have my full license.”
“No one drives in London, love.”
He turns onto a main street, packed to the bloody gills with regular cars and cabbies alike. Simon makes a grand, sweeping gesture over the windshield. “Then what are those, hm?”
He’s looking all smug and shit, and I just roll my eyes. “Idiots who are driving in London, and shall be for another twenty years at the rate we’re moving.”
Simon glares and sticks his tongue out at me, because he is truly a child at heart. I roll my eyes again and cross my arms.
Like I predict, we sit in traffic for quite awhile. I lean back on the headrest with my eyes closed. Simon probably assumes I’m just tired, which I am, but I’m also thinking. Thinking about something that’s been on my mind for quite awhile. But I’m not sure how to bring it up. Well, I know what I want to say. “Hey Snow, I know Bunce is leaving for America soon, and I know we also agreed we needed to have different roommates for awhile, but it’s been five years. So maybe, we could find our own flat.”
But every time I try to do it I lose my nerve. What if he doesn’t really want to stay in London? What if he still doesn’t feel ready to live with me again? What if he simply doesn’t want to? No reason, no explanation, he just doesn’t want to live with me again. All those possibilities fill my brain like a fog and the words die in my throat. I’m still such a coward sometimes.
Finally, we reach an intersection. “I know I don’t know where we’re going, but you should turn here, Snow. Get off the main drag.”
Simon snorts as he turns. “That sounds so American.”
“Blame Bunce’s boyfriend. His Americanisms are infecting me.”
“His name is Micah, and it’s not just you. I caught myself saying ‘fries’ yesterday instead of chips. Soon I’ll be wearing cargo shorts and an American flag tank top.”
“I will break up with you if you do that.”
We get to another intersection, and Simon turns so he can flash an absolutely shit eating grin at me. “I love you, too, Basilton.”
He says it so casually, because it is casual now. I used to keep track of every ‘I love you’ that came from Simon’s mouth, but after a year or so I lost count. Somehow, it became a simple truth that Simon Snow, former Chosen One and current insane motorist, loves me. I know this well. So why was it so damn hard to just ask the wonderful git to move in with me?
“How are the wonder couple?” I ask. “They’ve been so lovey dovey at your place it makes me want to sick up.”
“Like we’re ones to talk,” Snow chuckles, carefully driving down the narrow cobblestone road. “Pen says she’s getting payback for years of accidentally walking in on us.”
“For Crowley’s sake, that was one time.”
“Three times.”
“In five years!”
“She caught us snogging a lot.”
I scoff and roll my eyes. “Hardly a traumatizing event.”
“Yeah, but I bet she’ll be glad to not have to worry about that at all in America.”
He says it easily, just as easily he tells me he loves me. It’s another simple truth; Penelope Bunce is moving to America with her boyfriend, and Simon and I are staying here. There will be an ocean between Simon and his best friend. It was true, but it wasn’t easy.
I reach over and put a hand on his knee, squeezing it lightly. He doesn’t look down, but I don’t mind. We’ve spent lots of quiet tete a tetes talking about his feelings over this. If it’s easier for him not to acknowledge it now, while he’s trying to get onto a particularly busy London street, that’s fine.
“You know, funny thing,” Simon chuckles, still looking for an opening to turn, “Pen actually told me she’s going to miss you.”
My eyes get impossibly wide. We’ve faced down dragons and supervillain clones, but somehow that is the most improbable thing I’ve ever heard. “Seriously? Miss me? She bickers with me constantly.”
“Yeah, because you’re the only one who can keep up with her. She told me she’s going to miss all your smarty pants book talks. But don’t tell her I told you that. She doesn’t want to blow up your ego.”
I snort, but only to cover up my embarrassment. Bunce and I are friends, sure, but the fact that she’s actually going to miss me hits somewhere deep in my gut. Because, well, I will admit, I like our “smarty pants book talk” too. And I’m going to miss having them too.
“Oh Crowley,” I say quietly, the revelation washing over me, “I’m going to miss her too.”
Simon chuckles, sounding unusually smug. “Uh, yeah. You just figured that out?”
I would flick his smug, gorgeous face if he wasn’t driving. So I just roll my eyes. “Fuck off. I’m not good with feelings, you know that.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s just rare that I know something that you don’t. Let me bask in that for moment.”
“Arsehole.”
“And you love me.”
I squeeze his knee again, holding for a tad longer. I’m still not superb at physical affection but this seems right. “I do, a lot.”
“Well, that’s good to know,” he teases. I love that we can tease each other about it. Because it’s so well established. I love him I want to spend my entire life with him. And first step would be living together. I wish I could just ask him. Maybe if I lead into it...
“So,” I say slowly, “Fiona has met someone.”
Simon perked up, partly from what I said and partly because the light suddenly turns red. The car jerks forward slightly. I knock my knees against the front, but it’s honestly better than getting into a fender bender.
“Oh really? Uh, drummer or travel blogger?” Simon asks, voice still a bit strained probably from our near accident.
I chuckle. “Actually, no. She’s a fellow vampire hunter, the first mage she’s dated in ages. And they’re very serious, I think.”
Simon makes a weird noise as drove ahead. What is going on in that beautiful head of his? “Well, that’s good. I sorta like Fiona by now. She deserves to be happy and all that shite. After all the stuff she went through.”
He’s talking weirdly. It’s not bad or good, just...weird. Like he’s holding himself back maybe. But he also sounds on edge. For someone usually so obvious he was being very closed off right now. “Uh, yeah. They’re good. You’ll probably meet her at the next horrible Grimm-Pitch Christmas dinner.”
“Looking forward to it,” he chirps.
I snort. “Sure you are.” I rub my hand up and down his rough denim. I find the feeling comforting. Well, I find everything involving Simon comforting, really. But this is particularly nice. “But yes, Fiona is very happy. She’s very in love. However, her girlfriend lives far up north.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. And she’s pretty attached to the north. So, she’s thinking about...relocating.”
Simon made a sharp turn on to another side street. I’m forced closer to the window, letting me look around at the buildings. Huh, I don’t think I’m familiar with this part of London. Where is he taking me? “Oh, really?”
“Mhm. I know Fiona must really love her to get her to consider moving out of London. But it’s becoming a real possibility. She’s actually thinking of selling her flat.”
He makes another turn so sudden my head nearly bashed into the side. Is he going faster? “That’s really neat,” he says, voice strained.
What’s going on with him? Why is he going so fast? Why is he so nervous? Does it have something to do with Bunce? I hope not. He’s already stressing about that enough, I didn’t think it could get worse. I hold his leg tight. “Simon, love, are you-”
“We’re here!”
The car comes to a sudden, screeching halt. I nearly bash my head into the dashboard and my nails dig into Simon’s thigh. Once I’ve collected myself, I’m concerned about my suspension and tired.
“Snow,” I hiss, “what the fuck? Are you trying to kill me? Are you alright?”
“Sorry, love, sorry. Just almost missed it.”
“Missed what?”
Simon grins, teeth reflecting the light so he really is the sun. “Come out and see.”
Okay, that’s ominous. But he’s smiling so genuinely, and I love him, and I trust him. So despite my natural caution, I step out of my car with him.
“Ta-da!” Simon shouts, arms spread wide like a grand TV presenter. And I’m...confused.
“What is it?” I ask with genuine bewilderment.
Simon frowns almost pathetically. “What do you think it is, arsehole?”
“Uh...” I look around. We’re standing in front of a boxy World War Two era apartment building. It’s alright though. The grey cement isn’t too ugly, and it looks clean. The garden is lovely though. It’s lush with a veritable rainbow of lovely flowers. I know Simon has been getting into gardening. (His therapist told him to find something that made him happy. That turned out to be getting his hands dirty and pretty flowers.)
“The garden?” I say. “It’s very lovely. Yours is nicer though, love.”
Simon rolls his eyes and groans. “No, not the garden.” He shook his arms. “The building, Baz. I’m talking about the building.”
I look it over again. Has Simon taken a new interest in post 1945 architecture? “It’s a nice building, but I think I need some more context.”
“Right, right, sorry.” He steps forward and takes one of my hands in his. I have to stop myself from getting distracted by his warm, calloused fingers. “We’re here at this building because there’s an open flat here, and I think we should look at it. As somewhere we could live. Together.”
My eyes got incredibly, impossibly wide. My dead heart is roaring in my ears. He’s not joking. He’s smiling softly, holding my hand, absolutely nothing but genuine caring. I’m dumbstruck, just standing there looking at him. I can’t believe it.
“You...” I say softly, “you want to move in with me?”
“Yeah,” he chuckles, like it’s obvious.
“But, I thought we wanted different roommates...”
Simon looks surprised for a moment, eyes going wide. Then he bursts out in raucous laughter. He throws his head back, curls falling down his neck. I turn beat red and look at the ground.
“Fuck off,” I grumble.
Simon’s hand travels up my arm, stepping closer. I’m immediately comforted by his scent; brown and sweet, mixed with his shea butter shampoo. I would happily die with that smell in my nose.
“I’m sorry,” he cooed. “But Baz, that was five years ago. We were both freshly traumatized and still trying to figure out our relationship. But we’re better now, right?” I nod, because he’s right. We’re not perfect but we’re absolutely better. “Exactly. So since Penny is...going away soon, maybe we can try living together again. If you want to, that is. We don’t have to.”
I start nodding immediately. I don’t need to hesitate anymore, because he absolutely wants this as much as me. “No, I absolutely want to. I’ve, uh, actually been agonizing for ages over how to ask you, but I kept coming up with reasons not to.”
Simon giggles and takes my other hand. “You gotta get out of your own big head sometimes, love. It’s a fucking maze up there.”
“Yeah,” I sigh, “I know. But you seem to be able to navigate it. Or at least blow it to bits.”
“That’s my specialty,” he chirps. He tugs me towards the building, ascending one step. The sunlight makes his hair sparkle just like his smile. All my anxieties dull under that grin. Merlin, he’s incredible. “C’mon, let’s go.”
I follow him up the steps, squeezing his hand. “Absolutely.”
We go in, and the building manager takes up to the flat. It’s a nice place. There’s some furnishings, a queen sized bed, and a nice bathroom. Simon runs around looking at every room. He’s mumbling about how we could arrange furniture and where Bunce and Micah could stay when they visit. I ask the manager about money related things like rent and utilities and security deposit. It all seems reasonable enough. Though Simon did say there were other places. We should probably check them out first.
“Baz!” Simon yells. “There’s a balcony!”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Excuse me,” I say to the building manager. He gives me a nod and a smile, a very gracious man.
I walk towards Simon’s voice. Just off the living room, he’s standing on a small balcony, hands holding the railing as he leans out. I would be more worried but his wings are still there even if they’re invisible. (He can’t really fly but he can certainly glide.) I stand next to him, putting an arm across his waist.
“Look at this view!” he says. “You can see half of London from here. Imagine it at night.”
He’s right, it’s gorgeous. The buildings both old and new are spread out before us. I can see Canary Wharf and a few of London’s castles too. There’s a lush green park with a dazzling fountain only a few blocks away. Even the Thames looks pretty from here. I smile and lean against him.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper. “Though we’re going to look at other places too, love.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ve got a list on my phone. And just to be clear, we’re not looking at Fiona’s place.”
What? I look at him with resounding bewilderment. “Why would we look at Fiona’s place?”
Simon looks at me with just as much confusion. “Isn’t that what you were about to say before? Fiona’s moving, so you want us to take her place.” He frowns in some sort of determined annoyance. “But I don’t like it there. It’s too richy rich for me, and I, uh,” his cheeks go a bit red and he looks down at his feet, “sorta want us to get a new flat just for us, y’know? Something new that’s only our’s. I-It’s stupid, I know, I-”
“No no,” I say, pulling him closer, “it’s not stupid. I want somewhere for us too. And for the record, I wasn’t saying we should take Fiona’s place. The rent is insane, it is too richy rich, and the marijuana and nicotine smell have permeated the walls.”
“Yeah, exactly. I wanted to get here to show you to this place before you said something.”
“Hence why you drove like a madman?”
“...yes.”
I chuckle and lean my cheek on his soft hair. “Well, I was actually talking about Fiona to not so subtly bring up that I was going to be without a flat soon, so we should find one for ourselves. Though I did thoroughly enjoy fearing for my life.”
He kicks my ankle. “Fuck off.”
I press a kiss to his temple. “Never. You’d miss me too much.”
“Unfortunately, yes.” He puts his arm around my shoulder and presses closer. His warmth is almost infectious. “I’m looking forward to it though. Having our own place. That’s not a dorm room and we don’t avoid each other because we’re y’know, magical mortal enemies and shit.”
Crowley, who allowed this man to be so adorable? It’s criminal. I tilt his head up and kiss him softly. It’s slow, simple, filled with truths; I love Simon Snow, Simon Snow loves me, we both need new places to live, we want to live together again, and it’s going to be fantastic. Part of me is kicking myself for ever being worried. But a bigger part of me wants to keep kissing him. So I do just that, like I want to for the rest of our goddamn lives.
I can’t wait to start this new chapter.
———————————————-
AN: So what was the real obstacle course? London's insane fucking roads, the conversation, or Baz's anxieties? Oooooo so many questions, I'm such a deep writer, ooooo. Jk jk, it's whatever you think it is. This fic is not that deep lol. After writing Black Swan, it was nice to write some simple fluff. It's a bit meandering and weird sure but was fun to write. Hope y'all enjoyed reading it. And thanks to the person who requested :)
I've got like three requests still sitting in my inbox and I'm gonna try to get those done as quickly as possible. Also, reminder, I'm not taking anymore fic requests rn but will most likely open them again in May after exams. School sucks ugh.
If you guys like this, feel free to check out my ongoing Swan Lake AU fic The Black Swan. Thanks for reading, see you guys again soon!
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Gardening, by Brandon Erickson
(A short story I wrote for a small writing contest I won (by being the only entry, I think, but I digress.) that I edited a bit and want to post on here for everyone to enjoy. So... I hope you do... and yeah, here it is. Be sure to tell me what you think and follow for more... if you want.)
Gardening, Word Count: 1668.
It was early in the morning, not quite dawn, closer to that thin moment of the day where the sky layers at the distance, colors all screaming out to rise but unable to, for it is not their time. Patience is a virtue. While the colors of yellows and oranges that burn themselves into the clouds had their battle off miles away—a fight they could continue for up to an hour—it was light blue and the warm purple of a lavender flower that was the faint illumination John needed to get to work.
Whether a true statement or not, John would be the first person to declare that he could do all his work blindfolded; that the garden was him home. That part was true—at least—like colors burn into the sky, John burned into the garden, using colors, the prettiest pinks and blues he found worth looking at, all splattered along the family property to create a maze, and it was all his. His child. The backyard was little more than the paths around his handiwork, a path he stomped into now, pressed into the soft dirt and held firmly in place as he bent over to dig a hole for his latest project at the only time he thought it sensible to do so.
The morning was quiet around now. Not even the most hardcore of fishermen and hunters got up as early as this. Even animals, they were faint whispers at this time. Nuzzled into their nests, their homes, all waiting for the morning wake up call to feed, eat, nurture their young, and rest once more. Man has a cycle of his own, however, and there are times where man must bend it, where man deals with the strife upon his shoulders for the idea of something better. And such a man tended to his garden, whilst another carried his strife with him as he made marks against the soft soil, bending and turning around John’s garden until he was at his side. John heard the noise, but paid no mind to it. There was this root from an old lingering plant that refused to give to his will.
“You’re out here too much,” Jake aspoused, “Mom wants you back inside.”
“Mom’s up?”
“How couldn’t she be? With you digging like a maniac out here. Trying to tiptoe down the stairs when you’re wearing gardening boots.”
John glanced back at the house where an amber colored light peeked out from the windows, the dull shade of their living room lamp.
Jake bent down to a squat, tilting his head to the right to put it within John’s field of vision, “Mom’ll make us some breakfast before school, but you gotta come inside.”
“Tell her to go back to sleep. I’ll be in before the bus comes anyways.”
John stabbed the trowel into the dirt as he began to build a redness from everything around him, his cheeks flaring up and his head giving slight stressed twitches that only his brother could notice.
“You know that she’s not making you food because she wants to make sure you eat. She wants you inside. We all would kind of prefer that too. It’s crazy seeing you out here working all the time, especially this early in the damn morning!”
“Sounds like your guys’ problem. I’ll try to be quieter next time.”
Jake sighed and ran his hands through his hair, “It’s not about waking us up. We wake each other up all the time with our bullshit. It’s about your… ‘ya know, your well being! Its just… not good, the amount of time your out here, just… working on this place. And… barely doing anything in school, never talking to us, and all that… I,” He sighed again, a placeholder to find his words, “Listen, I wouldn’t be out here talking to you like this if it wasn’t really getting to Mom. I mean, she liked gardening, she liked having a couple flower beds out here, and at first she was happy you were getting into it, but then you take it all over and are out here so much it’s like you’re disconnected from the real world! Even she can’t stand the sight of a flower from this much gardening,” He laughed.
“How’s it any different from spending all your time reading, or writing, or dancing, or… playing video games?”
“Well… when you don’t make responsibilities it can be fine but… I mean, you never even liked going outside and getting dirty!”
“That’s why I have gloves and boots,” John carved circles into the dirt, glancing every now and then at the brick of soil to his right, where his flowers sat perched, waiting for nutrients at any moment. Patience is a virtue.
“You never liked hard work!”
“I never liked being forced into hard work, or working for some asshole.”
Jake groaned and rubbed his face, “Just… just why? Why now? Why all of the sudden, and why can’t you come back inside?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Really? Complicated? That’s gonna be your excuse? I’m gonna walk back and tell her that?”
“You don’t have to tell her anything. I don’t feel like sharing my whole life with her anyways.”
“Yeah, I know, we’re all a bunch of edgy teens who hate our mothers getting into our business, but all she wants to do is make sure you’re not hurt. She’s looking out for you.”
“Am I supposed to tell her thank you?” He thrusted the trowel into the root again, every time enunciating the words he said, “I didn't ask her to. It’s nice, but it doesn’t change that she ignores me when I say that I’m fine, and if she wants me to be happy about that it’s not gonna happen.”
Jake paused, “She knows that. And, she knows not to worry too much. That’s why I’m out here. Like I could handle you any better, though.”
“Nothing to handle. I said I’m fine.”
“I’ve never met anyone who actually means fine when they say fine, especially when they’re stabbing into the ground like a psychopath.”
“It’s this stupid root! I’m too distracted to get it out.”
Jake looked over at the darkened dirt and extended his hand out for the trowel, “Here, let me handle it.”
He handed his brother the trowel and Jake gave one strong stab into the ground, then twisted around vigorously until the root was uplifted. The dirt scarred his hands in brushstroke patterns as each twist kicked up and rubbed dirt along his usually so clean skin. But, the job was done, and he signed and sealed his work by flinging the roots across to the back of the backyard, where it hit the top of the fence and fell on the other side, painting the white of the fence as well in a soil brown.
“You’re welcome,” Jake finished.
“Alright, give me my trowel back so I can plant these guys.”
Jake moved the trowel away from his reaching hand, “Nu-uh, not ‘till you tell me why you’re out here so much.”
After trying to reach for it a few more times and failing he groaned in frustration with his hands covering his face—but that groan came out more like a growl, “What do you want me to say? What every other person says about a hobby? It’s calm, relaxing, helps me clear out my thoughts, gets me away from the day, and it’s a nice quiet job-”
“Cut the shit, tell me why you do it.”
John stopped in his tracks, looking up at his brother. That look on his face, the way his brows bent sideways as he glared, it pierced right through any attempts to move the conversation to anything else.
“Maybe I… I just like being in control of something… for once.”
Jake’s face first went harsher, but then softer, loosened, “Hm?”
“Maybe everything in my life keeps being a living hell, and… I can’t stand it. I’m so tired of trying, and putting all this effort into something that never works out. I’m tired of the world doing everything it can to stop what I want to do in my life. I just feel… helpless, alright? And being out here, I get to vent it all out and maybe do something that nobody can stop. At least, not yet. I get to make the decisions. I get to do what I want. For once. So… maybe that’s why.”
Jake said nothing, eyeing the tool in his hand.
“Is that so horrible of a thing to want to do?” His voice was barely audible by the final word.
“No,” He let out in a small whisper, tossing the trowel back into the dirt hole, “I’m sorry… about whatever you’re going through,” He pulled himself up in a mild grunt and dusted off his jeans, “I know sometimes it’s hard to talk much, but… I’m here for you, if you need anything. And, I’ll get Mom off your back for today, at least.”
“Thank you…” John picked up the trowel and the plant, gently laying down the plant to fill the hole, covering up the signs of human intervention by washing dirt over the cracks, padding the soil and packing it tight, and ta-dah, his Azalea's had been planted. He heard Jake begin a soft trot back through the flower maze and to the house.
“But, uh, John, you’ll come in for food when you’re done, right?” He heard his brother ask from a few yards away.
“Yeah…” He muttered, “I’ll be in soon.”
After that John was left with his silence, and the cold of the morning air. Things were a bit brighter outside, the layer of before now thicker and rushing in like tidal wave. Yellow and orange and even faint reds that would soon disappear and give way to the blossoming sky blue. And hopefully by then he’d be in for breakfast. Anytime now, but not before a job well-done.
Patience is a virtue.
#story#writeblr#writing#short story#brothers#family#work#strife#pain#obsession#my writing#life#writing about life#story about life#characters#dialogue#imagery#storytelling#writing on tumblr#tumblr writer#gardening#flowers#colors#stuff#things#other tags#writing contest
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