#fuck florida for every fucking reason under the sun

[hibiscuslynx]

i’m sure they’re feeling normally about the sport (hockey) right now

PA not pictured he’s currently having a moment(TM) offscreen

very long ramblings about hockey and wttt under the cut:

i have an ailment called “i keep thinking about how wttt characters would react to irl events*” which is basically the entire premise of the actual series itself but i still feel insane for being so obsessed with it so anyway here’s my ramblings

*that i am experiencing. in this case: hockey

i absolutely think all the hockey-watching states (which, in my head, are all the midwest states w/ nhl teams, all of the northeast states. except for VT, NH—and maybe RI?—who only watch it every so often, washington, and colorado) gave mass shit for his team (the bruins) getting knocked out of the first round by the FLORIDA PANTHERS (who BARELY got into the playoffs) after their literal record-breaking regular season and the insane fucking team they had. wash, minnesota, chicago/illinois, probably gave him the least shit for it, in that order, but there were def a few remarks about it. the only one who didnt say anything was probably colorado bc he was the defending champion and got knocked out first round by washington LMFAO. but the northeast was RUTHLESS. i’d like to think they gave him sooooo much shit for it he couldnt even show his face around in the statehouse (outside of meetings) until new jersey got knocked out 2nd round. even connie joined in despite repeated attempts by mass to disqualify him from even talking about the playoffs considering connecticut has not had an nhl team since 1997.

i should add new york got knocked out like literally the next day so he couldnt give mass shit for it as much but at least he didnt have a record-breaking team like the bruins !

anyway ❤️ new jersey is not shutting up about the fact the devils beat the rangers until next season’s playoffs start. he is bringing that shit up every time he reasonably can.

okay, now into who i think each hockey-watching state is rooting for/bandwagoning now. the current matchups right now are: in the west, we have the dallas stars versus the vegas golden knights (which i’m calling vgk for short), and in the east, we have the carolina hurricanes against the florida panthers.

i should note that they are all very happy the cup is staying in america (most people hate vgk but the american haters r at least happy they knocked the edmonton (canada) oilers out)

(LONG LIVE SUN BELT HOCKEY AND RAHHHHHHHH USA USA USA 🦅🦅🦅🦅)

massachusetts: - no one because he’s salty and hates everyone (leaning very slightly towards vgk because nevada , the personification, is better than the others)

new york: - same as massachusetts. hoping for the canes’ downfall (the carolina hurricanes knocked out the new york islanders first round too. yes, new york has/had two teams in the playoffs (islanders and rangers). new york has THREE total. rip buffalo ily guys)

new jersey: - very much actively hoping for the canes’ downfall (canes knocked out the devils), so much so he’s leaning very slightly panthers except he would never admit that

pennsylvania: - he’s currently climbing light poles in philly and taunting the government (gov? the actual government of philadelphia? who knows) just to feel something. (the philadelphia flyers are a bit of a dumspter fire and the pittsburgh penguins missed the playoffs for the first time in 16 years) he can also not talk as much shit about his fellow northeasterners and their teams as he’d like because of the shit he got/is getting for the penguins missing the playoffs.

ohio: - the panthers because 1) florida of the midwest and the actual florida have to stick together yknow 2) johnny hockey’s best friend is on the panthers

michigan: - the hurricanes because he’s not rooting for/bandwagoning the same team as ohio

chicago/illinois: - i dont even want to talk about this man/team fuck them

minnesota: - vgk because he’d be damned if he’s rooting for the stars (the minnesota wild got knocked out by the dallas stars)(and the admin of the mn wild twt account started up a little feud w the admin of the stars twt account)

washington: - the stars because. do i have it in me to explain this twitter bit. hmm… no. tl;dr: the vibes

colorado: - vgk because nevada is his buddy !!!!!

connecticut: - the canes to piss off the rest of his northeastern pals (and he is a little fond of them because the hartford whalers relocated to become the carolina hurricanes)

in my heart of hearts i want north carolina to be rooting for his team so bad and actually rhe canes have some LOUUDDD fans so i think he gets to be the first southern state to actually regularly watch his hockey team and know the game. florida, as always, still doesn’t know what the stanley cup is. texas could care less. nevada is a casual fan of his team i think but i think theyre rlly amped up abt vgk being in the playoffs rn.

thats all <3 if u actually read all of this , 1) why 2) thank you i love you. feel free to talk to be abt hockey (and how it relates to wttt, or not!!) anytime :3

#not putting this in the main tag #lynx rambles #wttt hockeyposting #<- new tag for this stuff just dropped #because im insane and i think about this sport a lot #i really sat here and wrote all this huh #i love taljing abt this sport i love combining interests #oueuugugheghhhghhh i need to draw more of the guys in hockey jerseys/gear #my sillies (they’re insane about the sport just like me) #EDIT: I FORGOT CONNECTICUT NOOO #ADDED HIM RN

[morningstarascending]

Life No Longer Silenced - Part 5

Next was Sports Authority and that was short live and extremely toxic. Hired on the spot because of Toys R Us but not for the position I wanted. I applied for back of house, not register. Just to push the bullshit rewards, warranties and, credits cards. Those programs are used by them to get your information and then sell it to third parties and others reasons. It was myself and 6 other hires, all men but one young lady. Within two weeks half the men were gone and they tried to no pay me for training and also not give me the promised pay during hiring. Eventually all the men but myself and the lady were gone. All the managers were women, so see a theme here. After bringing up my pay and missing hours from pay, I was bullied and fired. Gender doesn't matter, toxicity is everywhere, and the narrative is always tried to be push in one genders favor. Humans are the problem, some learn but some keep making the same mistakes. After that was a Toyota dealership, I like Toyota but the america division should be better. Wow, all the fucking people that worked here was absolutely nuts. One lady partying every night one drugs and its was multiple kinds. Service, sales and, tech workers harassing female coworkers, seniors sales members stealing all new hires and youngers hires commissions, used sales employes a pedo, some were alcoholics and, the main boss getting off on belitting every worker under him. I hear he has become a better person, I hope that is true. I left there after a month, had to work 7am to 7pm with only two days off a month in the florida sun. I wont be doing that ever again. I will say this, how did the florida economy and business' in it run. It is a astounding how poorly managed everthing is ran here, Though same can be said for all of america, damn idiots. Next stop, a private it gas station ran by a racist and wife that used religion against others. This one is a little more interseting, the owner was cuban born in Cuba and raised in New York and married and italian lady. I am sorry that he grew up with racist white people but that doesn't give you the right to treat other like that cause your were. Two wrongs don't make a right. I recived this job through a fake friends father with no information. I go in and work but the economy was really down and jobs were so hard to find, especially in Florida. Another job I ended up stuck in for a long while. Very few white workers were hired, most surrounded by spanish coworkers but some were nice enough. Problem is, the own was in america too long. He only wanted to give minimum rage while expecting you to work for 2 or 3 people. He had gotten in trouble for not paying overtime hours. He didn't even learn his lesson from that, was dinged for so many things. Through failed health inspections, not getting permits for any constuction work or, proper maintenance on the lots. Lot of the ladies in the kitchens at the gas stations would give discounts on the food for spanish customers. He was simply too greedy. He was always cutting so many corners, even via taxes but I didn't get involved, or so I thought. One manager decided to leave, owners wasnt happy. Had to decide between a drunken guy and myself. And he didn't want me because I was white but I would never steal or come to work drunk. So I became manager, only a minor pay raise but not to bad in the beginning. I emproved sales, customer interaction, better handling of stock. When I get a job, I do it well as I can. Many times I am thrown into a possition I don't know. Then everything went down hill, he demands more work and hours than what he pays me. 6 days a week, be a gas station manager, be a tenant manager (for houses and business'). I end up in and accedent in 2016 while working here and on vacation. I was at Rozen Plaza for MegaCon when it happened. Hotel suck and staff is so rude, and they do not let use carts, only belhops. I didn't like that at all. So I cared all my stuff to the parking garage. Second tripdown carrying everying hand in han, I wake up in the hospital.

#life #lifetoblog #life struggles #life stuff #abuse survivor #childhood trauma

[xxjootxx]

I Miss You

I wish I could let you go.

Warnings: angst but I don’t wanna spoil 😀 does contain spoilers for SDC !!

He has no reason to be unhappy. He sighed, lighting up another cigarette that he promised he’d stop doing. He sat on the bench just a little ways away from the sand. This was the beach he always stopped by after work, the one that always reminded him of Morioh. Ironic how the beaches of Japan and the beaches of Florida could be so similar in appearance.

The sun was beginning to set behind him, painting the waves in a golden hue. He watched his smoke blow away in the wind, deciding if it was worth another drag. He really should stop smoking after all, he said it calmed him but it always brought up unwanted memories. Your laughter floats through his mind, his eyes closing slowly as he relishes in the memory.

His cigarette tricks always made you laugh. He opened his eyes, heart skipping a beat when he realized he was lost in thought about you. “Good grief…” he put the cigarette out, shoving his hand in his pockets and making his way towards the water. His mind wandered again.

“Jotaro!” You laughed softly as he did his cigarette trick with three cigs this time. “You are so strange.” You plucked one of the cigs from his mouth once he stuck them back out. You watched him raise an eyebrow as you brought it to your lips and took a long drag from it.

“I’m strange? You just stole my cig.” You watched the smoke blow away with the breeze. You and jotaro did this at almost any hotel you stayed at, finding a way to break onto the roof and sit there for hours under the stars. You weren’t exactly dating, but you found comfort in each other while on this journey.

“It was mine to begin with Kujo.” You only used his last name when you wanted to annoy him. “It was in my mouth first L/N.” You smiled, pulling it away from your lips and sticking it back to his. The surprised look faded as quickly as it appeared “I don’t want it back now!” You shrugged, plucking another cig from his lips.

“Think of it as a kiss. We shared saliva after all.”

He snapped back out of it when the waves nearly crashed over his shoes. “Damnit.” He shook his head trying to shake you from his mind. As he moved along the shore, his mind got the better of him, pulling him back into memories he was determined to forget.

“Stop bickering.” Kakyoin rubbed his temples as you and Jotaro went back and forth. You both stopped to look at him, “I’m not sharing a room with you two if you are going to bitch instead of sleep.” He was trying to be stern, but shit eating grins appeared on both you and Jotaro’s faces. “Oh no…” he shook his head, leaving the room to find Joseph. Maybe if he was lucky, he’d have a spare set of earbuds.

“Let’s give him space.” You slid off the bed, assuming Jotaro would follow you. Of course he did, getting up and accompanying you out the door. Jotaro would never admit it, but he would do anything you asked. He had a soft spot for you, but he’d sooner die than let you know. You had to have known.

“I heard the beach is only a few blocks away.” You knew Jotaro had an interest in the ocean, you had even brought it up in a few conversations. “The old man will kill us for going so far, but fuck it.” That's how a lot of your own personal adventures went. In the end you’d get chewed out by Joseph Joestar for wandering so far away.

Jotaro smiled at that, eyes disappearing under the brim of his hat. He didn’t like thinking back on the trip to Egypt. Yet every day after work he would find himself absolutely immersed in his past. You flooded his mind every time he left, regardless of the time of day or where he was. You haunted his thoughts 20 odd years later.

“Jojo!” You yelled in surprise. You only called him Jojo when he caught you off guard. He didn’t acknowledge you, eyes disappeared under the brim of his hat to hide his smile. He has found a shop just a little ways away from the hotel that sold the food you had been drooling about since leaving Japan.

“Wow Jotaro, nothing for me?” Polnareff sighed dramatically as you unwrapped the food. “Get your own.” He lit a cigarette and sat across from you. “You cold hearted bastard!” Polnareff cried out, throwing a hand over his face as he faked tears. You burst out laughing at that. “Would you relax!” Avdol rolled his eyes, moving to sit beside you with his own food.

“Did everyone get something?” Polnareff seemed shocked as Joseph and Kakyoin came back with their own food. “Snooze you lose Pol.” You laughed, shoving food into your mouth and sighing dreamily. “Thanks Jojo.” All eyes shot to Jotaro, noticing the way he looked down further to hide his face.

He thought he was subtle with his emotions. He wasn’t. Not even close. He was practically an open book for everyone to read when it came to you. You — for lack of better words — were his achilles’ heel.

He stopped walking, turning to face the waves. The sun was setting even deeper into the sky behind him. The once golden waves were dark, shimmering in pinks and purples. As the water turned darker, so did his thoughts.

“I’m sorry Jotaro…” Joseph and Jotaro sat in the ambulance in silence. “They died alongside Kakyoin. Dio wasn’t bluffing when he said that.” Joseph watched his grandson turn in on himself, eyes disappearing under the brim of his hat.

The old man’s heart squeezed tightly when a stray tear slipped from under his hat. He knew better than to even mention it. Instead, they sat in silence. Allowing his grandson to mourn the loss of his love and his best friend. In that moment, Joseph wished he could take all that pain away. He knew how it felt.

Jotaro never got a chance to properly mourn your death. You and Kakyoin’s bodies had been recovered from the streets of Egypt by the Speedwagon foundation, but he didn’t have the courage to see them. He didn’t even go to your grave after you were buried. Your final resting place was in Japan, alongside Kakyoin. Despite the outcome, at least there was a body to take back. Avdol and Iggy weren’t as lucky.

He stared out into the waters. “Y/n…” your name still came out pained when he spoke it. He shouldn’t feel this much grief for someone he never even officially dated. He was married now for fuck sake, with a beautiful daughter — who unfortunately seemed to be following in her father’s footsteps. There was one thing that killed him though.

He saw you in her.

“The sunset is beautiful, isn’t it y/n?” He knew those words were meaningless. He simply couldn’t let you go. No matter how hard he wanted to.

#jojo’s bizarre adventure #jotaro x you #jotaro kujo #jotaro #joseph joestar #muhammad avdol #noriaki kakyoin #jean pierre polnareff #jojo anime #Jojo angst #jojo imagines #stardust crusaders #jojo spoilers #jotaro x y/n #jotaro x reader

[moldisgoodforyou]

give a little: chapter three (college!jj maybank x oc)

MASTERLIST

pairing: jj maybank x oc

synopsis: charlotte “charlie” walker is a rising senior at the university of south carolina, an exercise science major, a kappa, and is back in the outer banks for the summer. she’s stubborn as hell, isn’t rich enough to be a kook or poor enough to be a pogue, and is used to being in the background. she and jj both go to USC, her sorority and his frat (beta) running in the same social circles but the two rarely speak at school. things change when they run into each other at the boneyard in the summer.

warnings: drinking, creepy guy hinting at non-consent, swearing, mentions of sex, all characters are 21+

wordcount: 3.5k

_______________________________________________________________________

“Um, JJ’s number, Pope passed it on,” Charlie shrugged. “I’m probably not gonna do anything with it but I thought I’d keep it just in case.” 

Grace reached over and plucked it out of her hands, promptly ripping it into pieces despite Charlie’s feeble protest. “We went over this, I told you that boy’s no good for you. Will you let me do your makeup and pick out an outfit?”

“Why’d you have to - ugh, yeah, sure. Whatever makes you happy,” she teased. 

Grace clapped together her hands in excitement. “We’re gonna get you laaaiddd!” She sang, making Charlie blush again and whine in response. 

“I hate you.” 

Grace laughed. “No you don’t. You love me.” 

It was an evening ritual of Charlie’s to head to the ocean after work and unwind. She had her board on top of her car at all times and her wetsuit in the back, just in case. As soon as the clock hit 4pm and she traded spots with the high schoolers that manned the evening shifts, she drove straight to the beach. It was one of those days where the humidity felt so thick you were swimming through it and she forgoed her wetsuit for her bikini she wore under her work uniform. As she shimmied her jean shorts down her legs, JJ came around the corner with his board tucked under his arm. 

Charlie groaned quietly and stepped back behind her car, but not before JJ noticed her. 

“Walker, hey!” He waved, jogging over to her. 

She raised her eyebrows, caught off guard. “Walker?” She questioned with a small smile. 

JJ grinned, pleased with her reaction. “Yeah, since you refuse to use my name, I figured I ought to do the same.” 

She laughed. “Shame. I like the sound of my name on your lips.”

He beamed at the approval. “Here, let me help you with your board.” He set his own down and stepped up close to her, reaching over her to pull her surfboard down from the top of the car. 

Charlie swore her heart stopped beating for a second, her cheeks going red. She put her free hand on his bare chest to steady herself. 

“Charlie?” 

“Yeah?” She looked up, making eye contact. 

“Is this just a game to you?” He questioned. 

“Is what just a game?”

“Come on, you can’t tell me you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.” 

“Believe it or not, I don’t exist just to mess with you, Maybank.” She took her board from him and walked toward the water.  

JJ just watched her for a second, then jogged to catch up. “Do you surf often? I don’t remember seeing you on the water much in high school. And most Kappas I know are too prissy for that anyways,” he remarked as the two walked out to the water. 

She didn’t miss his gaze trailing down her body, but chose to ignore it as well. “We’re not prissy. But no, I picked it up last summer when I had an internship down in Florida. I’m okay,” she understated. After dealing with a shitty boss, she turned to surfing as her therapy and ended up finding time almost every single day to surf that summer. She was no amateur. 

They kept casual conversation as they both paddled out past the waves. “Oh, I’m sure you’re not that bad. Let’s see,” JJ gestured to an upcoming wave, letting her take the first ride. 

“What a gentleman,” Charlie grinned, paddling out toward the wave. She caught it with ease, standing over the swell and riding it into shore. 

Back in the ocean, JJ’s jaw dropped as he watched her take control of the wave. “Holy shit,” he murmured to himself before coming to his senses and catching a wave after her. 

He caught up to her on shore, grinning ear to ear. “What the fuck was that?!” JJ cried out. 

Charlie smirked and shrugged. “Like I said. I’m okay.” 

“If that’s just okay, then I’m just okay.” He bragged. “Seriously, Walker, I didn’t think you could rip like that.” 

Charlie just winked. “Race ya!” She yelled over her shoulder, taking off with a head start. 

He laughed and chased her into the waves, paddling out and keeping pace with her. They kept taking turns, one after another for a while, until they both grew tired. 

“I can’t keep up anymore,” JJ groaned. 

“Okay, okay, last one. It’s big, we can both catch it,” Charlie pointed out. 

“Deal.” JJ spit into his hand, force of habit with the Pogues, and went to shake Charlie’s hand. She just looked at him in disgust, wrinkling her nose. 

“You’re gross.” 

He retracted his hand, embarrassed and dipped it in the water. “I was just kidding!” 

Charlie just shook her head and started paddling out in sync with JJ, concentrating on the wave. Unlucky for her, he was concentrated on the curve of her ass instead. As they both stood, he got distracted and crashed the end of his board into hers, tossing both of them into the waves. It took an extra beat for Charlie to surface, her leash wrapped around her leg. 

She came up with a big inhale, sputtering. “What the fuck, Maybank?” She demanded. Charlie held onto her board for support, coughing up water. 

Uncharacteristically, he was bright red, not able to tell her the real reason why he made them wipe out. “Sorry, I, uh, wasn’t paying attention. Are you okay?” He steadied her board for her, coming closer to help her on. 

Charlie maneuvered her board away from him, pissed off. “I’m fine, no thanks to you.” 

“Shit, Charlie, I really didn’t mean to. Here, I can help you back to shore, check your leg out.” He offered apologetically, starting to paddle in with her. 

The last thing she wanted at the moment was his help, but her leg was stinging and that was never a good sign. “I thought you were supposed to be good at this, Maybank.” 

Her tone didn’t slip past him and he took her board from her immediately as they got to shore, ignoring her whine of protest. “I don’t know, I’m off my game, I guess.” He saw a trail of blood dripping down her leg and winced. “Stay here, I’ll go grab something for that.” 

Charlie glanced down at the scrape on her leg and groaned, flopping back into the sand and shielding her eyes from the sun with her arm. 

JJ returned quickly and knelt down in front of her as she propped herself up on her elbows. “I think it’s just a scrape but my board got you pretty good. I’m really sorry, Walker,” he apologized. 

“That’s Charlie Walker to you.” She retorted dryly. 

He laughed a little, then realized she wasn’t kidding around. JJ carefully dabbed the area with his shirt, wiping the sand away, then covered it in what was probably expired Neosporin and an old bandage. After a few too many falls, Kie made all of them put a tiny first aid kit in their cars ‘just in case.’ 

“Hey, at least it’s not as bad as when you sprained your ankle at the Clemson tailgate,” he joked to ease the mood. 

She shot him a glare. “That was your stupid pledge brother’s fault for running into me.” 

He dropped the smile. “Right. Not the beer bong you did beforehand?”  

She scowled. “Watch yourself, Maybank.” 

“That’s JJ Maybank to you.” He said, testing a smile with her. 

When she just rolled her eyes, he gave up. “I think I got you all fixed up, though. I’m sorry. Again.” He ran his hand through his hair, messing with it as a nervous habit. 

“It’s whatever. Thanks for the bandaid.” Charlie got up, ignoring his extended hand to help. She grabbed her board and stormed off. It probably was an honest accident, but she was still pissed. Plus, now she had an honest excuse to ignore the boy that had been living in her head rent-free since the first kegger. 

_______________________________________________________________________

JJ watched her stomp away and groaned once she was out of earshot. He brought the first-aid kit and his board back to the car, then grabbed his phone and texted the Pogues. 

~POGUE LIFE~ 

JJ: I fucked up

Kie: u ok??? 

Pope: What did you do 

John B: I’m with Sarah is it important

JJ: was surfing with Charlie and I busted her wave 

Pope: That’s it? 

JJ: no it was bad 

JJ: no chance of being friends now

Kie: i’m sure it’s not that bad, you’re such a drama queen 

Kie: is she ok? 

JJ: yeah I cleaned her up but she’s pissed 

Pope: She’ll get over it, I think she likes you  

Pope: Has she texted you yet

JJ: no and no thanks to you 

John B: well your stuttering in the ice cream shop didn’t help

Kie: play nice boys

_______________________________________________________________________

Friday rolled around, the day Charlie had been dreading. The last thing she wanted to do was go to a party and have a chance of running into JJ again. Normally an accident like that wouldn’t have pissed her off as much as it did, but there was something about the blonde boy that just irritated her to no end. She sat in Grace’s room as her friend practically tore her closet apart, looking for just the right outfit for Charlie. Charlie’s typical beach uniform of choice was just a tank top and jean shorts, but Grace had different plans. 

“Try this one on,” she said as she tossed a shirt at Charlie. 

Charlie held the garment up with one finger, eyeing it skeptically. “This thing? You can practically see your nipples when you wear it.” 

Grace rolled her eyes. “That’s the whole fucking point, Charlie, we’re trying to show you off here. How else do you think I hooked up with the quarterback?” 

Charlie gasped, genuinely surprised. “Grace Evans! You did not!” 

Grace grinned. “Did I forget to tell you about that one? It was after the Georgia win. Someone had to congratulate him,” she teased, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. 

The real reason Grace kept lecturing Charlie to stay away from JJ? She knew his game way too well - because she was practically the female version herself. She even made it onto the Beta composite last year when she was voted fraternity sweetheart. Sleeping with the president will get you to the top pretty quickly. 

“You are too damn much.” Charlie laughed, but pulled on the shirt anyway. Her chest was smaller than Grace’s and the crop top, while still low-cut, flattered her chest in just the right way. “Huh. It’s not too bad.” 

Grace beamed. “Then I know the perfect skirt.” She tossed a floral smocked skirt in Charlie’s direction. “I know it’s not your style, but trust me on this. No one will be able to resist you tonight.” 

Charlie obliged and pulled it on. “I just need to drink enough to not remember the guy’s name and I’ll be set.” 

“That’s my girl!” Grace grinned. “Let’s go, now we’re fashionably late.” 

_______________________________________________________________________

It was only an hour into the party before Charlie was tugging at her crop top to stay up and her skirt to stay down to an appropriate length. She was five White Claws deep (thanks to a pregame at Grace’s house) and definitely feeling it. She had seen JJ the second she walked in, but slipped in through the crowd and got away without him noticing. Focusing hard on walking in a straight line, she kept her eyes trained on the ground as she walked toward the keg - and straight into a Touron’s chest. 

The guy smiled and reached out to steady her, his glance going south to her chest. “Whoa there, don’t fall for me before we’ve even talked,” he said. 

She laughed, cheeks going red. “Hi, sorry, I was just trying to find more drinks.” 

He nodded. “Let’s go find more drinks then. I’m Scott.” He placed a hand on the small of her back to guide her through the party. 

Normally she would tell him to fuck off and get the drinks on her own, but after a second glance and deciding he was cute enough, she let it happen. “I’m Charlie. Nice to meet you,” she offered. 

“Pleasure’s mine, darling.” 

She laughed as they entered the kitchen. “You must be from the south.” 

He chuckled, pointing to the Alabama logo on his polo. “Guilty. Roll tide.” 

Charlie wrinkled her nose. “Ugh. That’s unfortunate.” 

He laughed and leaned over her to grab her a canned Smirnoff mixer out of the cooler, along with the last beer for him. 

Charlie squinted to read the 8% on the can and shook her head, knowing it was a bad idea, but then reminded herself of the reason she came out tonight and popped the tab with a sigh. 

“Let me guess, you go to North Carolina?” Scott questioned. 

“No.” Charlie was already bored. 

“Duke, then. All the pretty girls end up there.” 

She shook her head. “Ugh, no. I go to SC.” 

He nodded in recognition. “Ahh, an SEC girl! You must know how to party then.” 

Charlie shrugged, letting him carry the bulk of the conversation. “Guess so.”  

Behind her, JJ had spotted Charlie following the Touron into the beach house and made his way toward her. Before he got too close, he felt a small hand on his wrist pull him backward. 

“Hey - oh. Hi, Grace,” JJ muttered unenthusiastically. She hung around the Beta house far too often last year for him to not recognize her instantly. 

She gave him a look, crossing her arms to set the tone. “What are you doing?” 

“Uh...just getting more drinks?” JJ tried. 

Grace gave him a short laugh. “Don’t humor me, Maybank. I saw you watch Charlie go in there.” 

He relented quickly. “Look, I just wanted to say hi, that’s all. I got her leg scratched up earlier this week and thought I’d check in on her.” 

Grace scoffed. “Yeah. I heard. I don’t trust you.” 

JJ crossed his arms back, annoyed. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why don’t you trust me, Grace Evans?” 

Grace pointed two fingers at her eyes, then back at his. “Because I know exactly how you play your game, JJ Maybank, and you’re not playing it with my Charlie. She’s not gonna get hurt because of you.” 

JJ frowned. “I just want to check up on her, god!” He raised his eyebrows. “You know, I could do that if you just gave me her number…” 

She laughed. “Nice try, stupid. Leave her alone, she’s trying to get laid.” 

JJ had just taken a sip of his beer and choked on the drink. He grinned. “Well I could help her with that.” 

Grace glared. “Go find some other Touron to pick up tonight, JJ, leave her alone. You’re trouble.” With that, she walked away. JJ turned back to look into the beach house, but Charlie was nowhere in sight. He sighed, walking back to his friends with slumped shoulders. 

Pope gave him a sympathetic smile. “No luck?” 

JJ shook his head, draining the rest of his beer. “No, I got intercepted by her friend. John B, remember Grace Evans?” 

The tips of John B’s ears turned red and his grip around Sarah’s shoulders got a little tighter. “Uh...no?” He tried. 

Sarah looked up curiously. “Didn’t she go to your school?” 

JJ laughed, lightly punching John B’s arm. “Ohh...of course you remember Grace Evans, you crushed on her for a whole summer until -” 

John B’s eyes went wide, telling him to shut up. 

Sarah turned to her boyfriend, arms crossed. “Until what, John B?” 

John B flipped JJ off. “Thanks a lot.” 

Sarah turned back to JJ. “No, go on, I really want to hear this.” 

JJ shook his head. “No can do, Cameron,” and walked away before he had to deal with hearing the argument he probably just started. 

JJ made his way toward the beach and saw Charlie and the Touron, Scott, sitting out on the sand together. Alone. His brow furrowed and he walked closer til he could hear their conversation. 

“We should get out of here,” Scott offered, helping her up from the sand. 

Charlie blinked a couple times. “Huh? Honestly...I just wanna go to bed. I’m fuckin’ tired.” 

Scott smiled. “Come on, I’ll find you a place to sleep.” His arm went around her waist and trailed along the hem of her crop top. 

JJ frowned and jogged over, taking the drink from Charlie’s hand. “Hey, everything okay here?” 

Scott nodded. “We were just -” 

JJ crossed his arms and straightened up so he had a few inches on him, stepping toward Scott. “I wasn’t asking you. I was asking Charlie.” 

Charlie looked between the two of them. “I dunno. I think we’re gonna go take a nap?” 

JJ frowned deeper. “With this guy you don’t know?” 

Scott dropped his arm from Charlie’s waist and stepped up til he was face-to-face with JJ. “I got her man, don’t worry about it.” 

JJ shoved his chest. “Fuck that. You can leave.” 

Scott shoved his shoulder back and turned to Charlie, taking her hand. “Charlie, doll, you don’t want me to leave, do you?” 

JJ gritted his teeth and stepped in between the two of them, putting Charlie behind him protectively. 

Charlie reached up and tapped JJ’s shoulder. “Don’t fight, JJ, please?” 

JJ softened at the sound of his name and looked back to Scott. “You heard her. Fuck off.” 

Scott rolled his eyes. “Whatever. She’s boring anyway.” He walked back to the party and JJ kept an eye on him til he was out of sight. 

Seeing Charlie sway, JJ put his arm around Charlie’s shoulders to support her. “Careful, Walker, I got you.” 

She leaned into JJ. “I’m not boring, am I, Maybank?” 

JJ laughed quietly. “Anything but.” 

Charlie nodded, satisfied. “JJ...I’m drunk. Grace is gonna be mad at me.” 

He smiled. “Yeah? I’m almost drunk too. Why is Grace going to be mad at you?” 

She pouted, sticking out her bottom lip. “Because she let me borrow her clothes so I could get laid.” 

JJ grinned, amused. “I heard. And you look great. But why are you so set on getting laid? I mean, no judgment, just seems like you had a very set plan.” 

Charlie shrugged, resting her head on JJ’s chest. “My ex cheated on me and I need to move on. A good fuck usually helps with that.” 

JJ cleared his throat in surprise, moving his hands to her shoulders and carefully sitting her down. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that. I-uh, um, yeah. Sleeping with someone can help. Sometimes.” He sat next to her but made sure to keep distance between them. 

“I mean, you would know, right? You’ve had your fair share of fucking around.” Charlie asked pointedly and scooted closer. 

JJ laughed loudly in response. “I guess so?” 

She turned to him, a thought occurring and her eyebrows rising. “Oh! Is the thing about the handcuffs true?” 

JJ looked at her in shock. “The handcuffs? What thing about the handcuffs?” 

Charlie grinned. “You know. With Jenna Gray? She said you two hooked up after the Florida tailgate and you had handcuffs.” 

JJ ran a hand over his face, groaning. “Dear god. Now I can see where you’re coming from, talking about my “reputation,” He said, putting the last word in finger quotes. “I never hooked up with Jenna Gray, we kissed at the tailgate and then she puked in our bathroom and I called her an Uber home.” 

Charlie sat back, thinking. “Oh. Huh. I wonder how many stories I’ve heard are true, then.” 

JJ shook his head. “We’re gonna have to review those together when I’m not as drunk.” 

Charlie extended her pinky toward him. “Deal.” 

JJ smiled and locked his pinky with hers, then brought it to his lips and kissed it before letting go. “Deal.” 

They both turned as they heard voices from a boy and a girl heading their way. Charlie bit her lip as she saw Rafe come into view, hand-in-hand with the girl she had caught him cheating on her with. She weighed her decision, looking back and forth hurriedly between JJ and Rafe walking closer. 

“Are you okay, Charlie?” JJ asked, concerned. 

“I’m fine, um..” She glanced over just as Rafe seemed to recognize her and turned back toward JJ. 

“Oh, fuck it,” she muttered under her breath. Taking JJ by surprise, Charlie leaned over and her lips met his. 

He didn’t hesitate to kiss back, threading his fingers through her hair as she pushed him gently back into the sand. JJ took control instantly, flipping them over so he was on top. He broke off the passionate kiss reluctantly, hovering over her as Rafe walked away. 

The blonde choked out a laugh. “I’m not complaining, believe me I’m not. But what was that?” 

tags: @booksandshish​ @jiaraendgame​

#jj outer banks #outer banks #outer banks fanfic #college outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #jj maybank obx #obx fanfic #obx fanfiction #college!obx #obx x reader #jj x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank fanfiction #mine #jj x charlie

[somerandomstrayemo]

This is my story off of wattpad that I had just decided to put here, do not repost, if I see this story anywhere else I will ask you to take it down, thank you :)

_____________________________________________

Prompt: Virgil lends their sweater to Remus. When Remus is home, he realizes he still has Virgil's sweater and finds Virgil's iPod. Out of curiosity, Remus looks through Virgil's music and finds a playlist titled with Remus's name..

Virgil sat comfortably on the couch, casually scrolling through Instagram (yes, FINALLY, something other than Tumblr-). He hadn't had much to do that day since Patton was out getting things for a movie night, Roman was writing the script for a new video, and Logan was out with Patton, probably just out and about to resupply on crofters since he was running low on them.

It was mid February, and due to the climate in Florida it was still quite cold to say the least. Though Virgil didn't mind the freezing temperature due to the fact he almost always wore his black and purple sweater, he seemed almost unfazed by the somewhat cold atmosphere.

Around the evening is when the anxious trait heard light shuffling behind him and he quickly spun around from his position on the couch, only to spot a  seemingly freezing Remus that previously planned on pouncing on him. "Remus? What are you doing here?" Virgil asked, as it wasn't very common for the dark sides to just come along particularly unannounced like that. "Oh the heater part thing in the air conditioner broke over on the dark side and Janus won't let me use his heat coil thingy, so I thought it'd be warmer here, and surprise surprise, it's FUCKING not~" Remus seemed to be speaking in an utterly annoyed an sarcastic tone. Virgil rolled his eyes and tucked away his ear buds, propping his arms up on the back of the couch. "Huh, that sucks now doesn't it" The emo said, still completely unfazed by the situation.

Remus looked Virgil up and down in complete shock. He wasn't shivering, and was acting as though everything was fine. The intrusive side then scoffed and crossed his arms, developing a somewhat snarky attitude towards the smaller side. "How the hell are you so okay with this, it's fucking freezing here! Are you immune or something?!" Remus wasn't very pleased. Virgil made it look so simple and easy to just ignore the cold, it was almost like the emo was taunting him. "Relax Remus, I just have a really thick sweater on. Here, if it makes you feel any better, would you like to borrow it?" Virgil tried to be kind to Remus, as he hated conflict between sides and wasn't one to want to get involved. In fact, Virgil did this willingly, he'd do anything just to see Remus smile just once. It was just a little temperature, how bad could it possibly be?

Remus stared at the emo like he was being taunted once more, but then eased up a bit, seeing there was no signs of mockery in his soft expression. Remus simply gave in, un-crossing his arms and giving a small nod, watching as Virgil then took off his sweater and handed it over.

Remus seemed so happy as he quickly grabbed the sweater and put it on. Though Remus was enjoying himself, this was a decision that Virgil very quickly regret as a cold draft of air hit him like a bus. God it was freezing, yet he plastered a smile on his face as not to let Remus worry. "Thanks emo, this thing really is warm!" Remus said in an almost happy tone. It was rare that Virgil ever saw Remus happy like this since he was mostly intrusive, so like any other side would, he took it all in while he still could. "You're welcome dude, I didn't want you dying from hypothermia, you looked like an angry ice cube." The emo smirked, using his little remark to distract himself from the cold atmosphere. Remus laughed, something Virgil just loved to see, thank god his pale foundation was covering his slightly red face. Though Remus could clearly see how satisfied Virgil was by the decision, and leaned forward, placing and gentle kiss on the freezing emo's face, causing the anxious trait to tense up. "I have to go now Virge, and seriously, thanks for the sweater, I promise I'll give it back" Remus stated happily as he then quickly sunk out. Who's to say he probably snuck out while Janus was distracted, he didn't even give Virgil a chance to speak before he left.

After about a week had past, Virgil had ended up borrowing one of Patton's sweaters, as morality had plenty, so yeah it wasn't his usual style, but at least he was fairly warm. After all, only a few hours after Remus left the week before was when the light sides soon discovered that their air conditioning had broke as well. Back with the dark sides however, Janus had been trying to get Remus to confess on where he had gotten that sweater all week, but as time went on, he had eventually given up. Around this time, Remus was in his room playing around with his mace, he honestly had no intention on giving Virgil his sweater back, as he loved it like his own, but he knew the sad truth was that he had to give it up sooner or later.

As the intrusive side swung hos mace one last time, A small object fell out of the pocket of Virgil's sweater. Remus stopped all he was doing and set his mace aside, picking up the object only to discover it was a dark purple iPod with Virgil's name on it. Being curious, Remus conjured some headphones and plugged them into it, starting to look through his playlists he had saved:

"P!ATD? Of course he would"

"Huh, I..guess.. Billie Eilish makes sense..?"

"ugh, and I think Lofi music would be for his panic attacks, I still wouldn't listen to that"

"AVIVA, again, of course he would."

"MCR, yep, That's Virgil alright, it's sad he only has like 2 songs in this playlist"

Remus went on and on over the playlists, until he came across one that caught his eye, 'reminds me of Remus'. No way the anxious trait really had a playlist dedicated to him, right? Remus clicked the playlist and immediately saw a song that captured his main personality, the one that he used around Virgil:

'Green' by cavetown

Remus had closed the iPod immediately and sighed, he realized the only reason Virgil gave up his sweater was because he cared for Remus, and you know what, that wasn't what Remus had thought at all, he simply thought the emo pitied him, nothing more. Turns out the emo really did like him back after all.

Remus acted quickly, playing a recording of him messing around in his room and locked the door so he could sneak out unnoticed. Once he'd done that he quickly sunk out, hoping Virgil was in his room, and to his relief, he was. Virgil was laying peacefully in his bed, curled up under his blankets, and the room completely silent apart from his very light snoring which Remus had found adorable. Virgil slept in often as he barely got any sleep once the sun set. The intrusive aspect guessed that he fell asleep around 4am today, and he only needed an hour of sleep, but it seemed as though he decided to sleep in the one day Remus decided to confront him.

Instead of waking the emo, Remus had decided to be very quiet and get in bed next to him. If Virgil truly loved Remus, then surely he wouldn't mind.

It had only been a few hours before Virgil woke up, a strong and warm embrace wrapped around his small figure. It had only took him a moment to realize he wasn't alone, quickly turning to look up at who had broken into his room; "Remus.." The younger gently whispered, causing Remus to flutter his eyes open and smile to the small anxious trait in his arms.

Virgil had to admit, he was loving every second of this, he simply looked up at Remus, frozen in silence. He had so many questions; why was he here? How long had he been there? And most importantly, did he even want to be this close to someone like himself. As Virgil's mind trailed off, he felt a pair of lips capture his as he felt his waist was being strattled. The emo didn't resist nor comply, he simply screwed his eyes shut, a few small tears falling from them. Oh how he dreamed of this, how he wanted nothing but to be loved like this.. He'd been longing for someone to love him back...

The kiss lingered for a moment before being broken, Remus placing a hand against the emo's cheek. It was firm, yet so gentle and loving. The intrusive side then used his thumb to wipe away any tears Virgil had, and gave a comforting smile "why didn't you tell me sooner Virgil" he asked kindly, a tone that Virgil rarely ever got to hear. "I was scared.. You'd reject me.." He spoke with pure honesty, and slight guilt for not telling sooner, after all he was the embodiment of fear and anxiety. Though nevertheless, who could stay upset at a face like Virgil's?

Remus chuckled as he sat up, scooping up the smaller trait and placing him in his lap and peppering his face with kisses. "it's okay now love, you don't need to hide it from me anymore, I've got you" Remus sighed out, reassuring Virgil that he had absolutely nothing to be afraid of. A beautiful moment of silence quickly followed those words, and Virgil almost immediately fell asleep in Remus's arms after that. He hadn't felt this loved and relaxed in god knows how long since he was always careful and on edge. It was a wonderful feeling, so great that it put him to sleep. Remus simply chuckled once more, laying his new lover back down as he took his place beside the younger trait, wrapping his arms around Virgil as he then too, drifted off to sleep.

Words: 1694

Sanity: 100%, this was beautiful

My sleep schedule: it's 1am and I have school, so idk, you tell me- :/

#sanders sides fluff #remus sanders #virgil sanders #original story #wattpad #dukexiety

[drethanramslay]

Rock Bottom

Pairing: Mona X MC (Alexis Jennings)

Masterlist

Word count: 1.8 K (I really tried🤧)

Warnings: None, there is swearing, also there is a crossover 👀

Author's note: I'm taking part in @rodappreciationweek and this is my entry for day 3 (mona)

The hosts of RoDaw @client-327 @brightpinkpeppercorn and @choicesarehard are donating $5 usd to the Lebanese red cross, up to $500 for every piece of Mona content today! Please consider making/posting something for Mona today if you haven't already❤️

I'm also taking part in @wackydrabbles so you will find the prompt in bold

Forgive me if I make any mistakes

"Prisoners move back to your respective cells." The loudspeaker blared, cutting sharply through the air, giving Mona a cold splash of reality.

Until that godforsaken announcement, Mona had been sitting on the steps, her eyes closed as she enjoyed the cool breeze threading through her hair. The sun rays poured over her and she enjoyed the warmth emanating from them. She could smell the ocean and with her eyes closed, she could almost imagine standing on the shores of Santa Monica, the sound of the waves washing over her.

But there is only so much imagination one can use to forget that she was in jail.

To her darn luck, she had been transferred to Trask Island, a maximum security prison off the coast of Florida. It was one of those dreary prison where you were completely cut off from the world.

No call, no letters, no communication.

Whatever fucked up environment they created here, that was her world and Mona hated every second of it.

It was also called the 'rock' because one, it was on a island and two, it would drown all your hopes and wishes of a future, just like how a rock sinks in water.

No one has ever escaped Trask Island and no one ever will. The words of the warden echoed through her head making her scoff.

It's cute that he thinks I will be sticking around in this shit hole.

Mona was super determined to get the fuck out of here even though there were moments when she was completely and utterly lost.

She hated the orange tracksuits she had to wear. She hated the way these spiteful men dictated her life and tried to break her spirit. She hated being stuck in a tiny cell.

She longed to feel the adrenaline rush in her veins when she raced.

She longed to feel her hands gripping her steering wheel, as she drove at speeds defying gravity.

But most of all she longed for Alexis... The girl she left behind.

Mona found it ironic. After her ex ratted her to the police she swore that she would never let anyone have that power over her. That she would never wear her heart on her sleeve again. She built this impenetrable fortress around herself so that no one could enter and know the real her.

But Alexis managed to do that by just smiling at her.

The way their hands fit perfectly into each other's... The way that all her worries would go away when Alex was in her arms... The way that they both pushed each other, looked out for each other and challenged each other...

Mona had never witnessed such a feeling of companionship and she couldn't help but fall for her.

I love you Mona... Those words haunted her but at the same time motivated her to keep going through the motions of the day.

Her fantasies were abruptly interrupted by the guard kicking her combat boots. "Up and going, or do you want a month in solitary?"

And the thing she hated the most about this prison are the guards. I mean it was normal to hate them but this was some next level shit. She absolutely abhorred them to such a extent that she wanted to strangle them with her bare hands.

The number of times she was thrown into solitary was not even funny. And all of them were for the dumbest of the dumbest reasons.

Hell she was thrown in the hole for a fight she wasn't even part of.

All men are the same... Power hungry and drunk on greed. That's why girls are better.

So not wanting to risk living in the darkness for a month, she bit her tongue and got up before joining the other cellmates.

"What a dick." Eris Huang, an expert demolition muttered under her breath, so low that only Mona could hear it, causing her to snort.

In the six months she was here, she was low-key glad that she met Eris. They two met when Mona was moved into Eris' cell. Both were strong willed, hard headed and sarcastic woman so it wasn't really surprising that they became fast friends.

"Tell me about it. One of these days he is gonna piss me off so bad that I will end up castrating him with a blunt knife."

"Oof. I will hold him down and break his legs." Eris offered causing Mona to smirk. I like this girl. 

"Anyways, I have a shift at the library so meet you later." Eris spoke.

"Get me another notebook if possible."

"What are you writing? A love letter?" Eris teased which made Mona roll her eyes but she wasn't very far off from the truth.

"A lady never tells." Mona answered causing Eris to chuckle as she took a left to go to the basement.

Mona reached her cell and she felt the the cell gate close behind her with a loud clang, which resonated in her ribcage.

Sure, hanging out in the yard and working in the workshop was a welcome distraction but staying in her small cell for more than 17 hours would make a girl lonely.

So, in all these hours of loneliness, sadness and hopelessness Mona found some sort of solace in writing about her dreams, list of things she was going to do once she was out, her aspirations... But most importantly, how much she missed Alex and how she wished to be by her side.

So settling into the corner of her bunk, she opened the notebook with tattered pages so that she could write.

Dear Alex, I know I told you to not let me imprison you but that's not applicable to me because you are always on my mind. It's hard to forget you. I miss you so much....

Do you know what day it is today? It's the fifth... Or I assume so because there is no calendar here. We aren't told what date, month, year it is. It's just days which sinks into the lonely nights and the cycle continues.

It's been six months since I last saw you... And I guess it just hit me hard.

It's just cruel how little time we had together.

I still remember that night. How happy we were in that cute little prom of yours. I still remember how heartbroken you were when I betrayed you.

But you didn't let it break you.

I still remember the way you took down those bastards. I still remember how fucking proud I felt on that moment. I still remember how I took a bullet for you and the shock that coloured your face.

And I know the thoughts which ran at your head in that moment. "Someone actually cares enough for me to take a bullet for me."

I'm here to tell you that yes, I took a bullet for you and I would do it a thousand times over just to prove that I love you and I care about you. I'm here to tell you that you are worth it and you deserve all the love in the world.

I wish I could hold you in my arms and tell you all of this but... Life loves fucking with me and you got caught as collateral.

It's just... Hard some days. Sure I have made friends with some other criminals and tried to make this fuckery my new normal but I'm only human. I'm few moments away from sinking to rock bottom, as shocking as that may sound.

You always perceived me as an aloof, careless and a strong badass but that changed when I met you.

Sure I was always strong but you make me stronger. You and me... We both are like two knives sharpening each other. Pushing each other to reach new heights of awesomeness.

But, I also want to worry for you. I want to appreciate you. I want to wake up next to you and I want to love you.

I often wish how we would have met if I had not gone down the wrong path. Would we have met at some pub? Or in some Ivy League college? Or some frat party?

People often say that you shouldn't waste time thinking about the things that could have been but when you are in a prison with nothing but time, that's all you seem to do.

So yeah, you are the only thing preventing me from going insane.

I think that's enough emotional bullshit for today and I'm low-key relieved that you aren't reading these letters, of me talking like a sap.

But one thing is for sure- I love you.

Yours, Mona.

She heard the electric buzzer and the door of her cell opened. Eris walked in with an impassive face with a guard standing at the entrance. He shut the cell gate and walked away.

Mona's eyes narrowed as she sat up straight. Wait a minute-

She waited for the guard to be far away before she spoke up. "You have a plan."

Eris turned the light off of the cell and plopped on to the bed opposite Mona's.

"Smartie. Always knew I did a good job of recruiting you."

"But how? Do you remember the last time you failed and ended up in the hole for a month and a half?!"

"Yes I do remember but this is foolproof. We have outside help."

"... I'm listening."

"Do you speak thief?" She asked which made Mona scoff in disbelief.

"Obviously. I have stolen cars and kidnapped people. Obviously I'm no amateur."

Eris proceeded to explain how her friends Rye and some other chick had come up with a plan. She listened with complete attention and only stopped her to ask valid questions.

"So... Are you in?"

Mona tried weighing the pros and cons. It's sounded a tad bit unrealistic and far fetched. There were a couple of loose ends which made her hesitate.

Eris noticed that and grasped her hand. "See Mona, no escape plan is perfect. This is a rough draft and we will work out the kinks. But remember, the three crucial things an escape plan needs is- Luck, faith and determination. We don't know about what lady luck has in store but, we sure can have faith and determination."

"I know that you hate it here and I know the punishment of escaping is harsh but what's wrong in trying? We are already suffering as it is, what's a little more? And I see that fire in your eyes, M."

"The fire to break free and the fire to go back to your girl."

Mona looked up and the momentary joy of getting to see Alexis soon. Adrenaline courses through her veins, causing her heart to beat faster.

Eris leaned forward, her voice intense. "So tell me- Would you like to blow this joint or rot in here for the next five years wishing you could have atleast tried?"

Mona's eyes met hers and a smirk formed in her face. Reaching forward she shook Eris's hands, sealing the deal.  "What the hell. This is without doubt the stupidest plan you've ever had. Of course I'm in."

Don't worry Alexis, I'm coming home.

Hope you liked it 😊

Mona x MC Taglist : @kamilahsayeet2063 @kaitlynliaofanxx @vampiregirlsblog @made-me-deep-blue

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#anushka writes #mona x mc #mona #rod mona #mona rod #ride or die #ride or die: a bad boy romance #rodappreaciationweek #rodaw #rod appreciation week #eris huang #eris thm #the heist: monaco #choices stories we play #playchoices #choices #choices stories you play #pixelberry

[skinks]

The Toziers convince Sonia to let them take Eddie to disney world on his 14th birthday. Needless to say he LOVES every second of it and that’s when Richie realizes that he’s lowkey in love with him

ok anon stop reading my MIND I was actually thinking weeks ago about this literal very same thing. Well, a variant, but yours is adorable too omg. Also I think a lot about them going as adults post-movie and Eddie spends the whole day just going on the Hulk rollercoaster at Universal over and over

but god imagine Eddie having a huge bowl of Disney World ice cream plonked in front of him at the Rainforest Cafe with birthday sparklers, and they’re like “Eat up son, you’re not 14 every day!” and Eddie tries to blow out the sparklers and not cry simultaneously. Eddie at a theme park is actually so personal. He tries ONE rollercoaster (Thunder Mountain) and immediately becomes an adrenaline junkie, and Richie’s sitting next to him hearing him shriek and swear and their hands are clasped together overhead as they hurtle down a plunging loop, and he’s like oh no.

My thing was that I have this image of a 90s family photo of Maggie and Went squishing long haired teen metalhead Richie between them maybe at Magic Kingdom or in front of the big ball at Epcot, and he’s taller than both of them with a gruesome unintelligible black tshirt on but he’s got the biggest goofy smile, and he’s wearing Mickey ears cause it’s his BIRTHDAY. But 14 is probably better cause maybe like, Went and Maggie saw how upset Richie and his friends all were the year before and want to cheer him up?

Then I thought, his parents say he can bring another friend with him if he likes, and Bev’s already gone to Portland right? Mike and Bill are working, Ben and Stan are both at different nerdy summer camps (I know Richie’s birthday is in March but let’s pretend they take him as a joint bday/end of school year treat) and so he brings Eddie. Richie kinda wanted to bring Eddie the most in the first place, so it works out perfectly. Eddie’s only allowed to go because he’s still riding his gazebos wave of defiance and also they promise Sonia Eddie won’t go on a single dangerous ride (wink), and she’d hate to be seen to be ungrateful, people would talk.

Richie and Eddie get their own room in the motel and trampoline between the two beds because they’re little monsters. They always run out onto the balcony at night to watch the thunderstorms. The first time they walk through the gates at Magic Kingdom Eddie’s like :00000 Richie look! EVERYONE’S wearing fanny-packs!!!! and Richie’s like yeah >:( but you were a cute dork first, and Eddie’s like hey fuck you—wait...... cute? and Richie’s like uhhhh HEY LOOK IS THAT PLUTO

They freak the fuck OUT at the Star Wars bit in MGM, back when it was still called MGM. Maggie and Went let them see The Muppets 3D three times in a row and Richie gets a Kermit shirt, and whenever Eddie starts pestering him about sunblock Richie sings It Ain’t Easy Being Green to drown him out.

The see the Indiana Jones stunt show at MGM and Richie decides he’s gonna be a stuntman. Then they go to the driving stunt thing and Eddie says it would be super cool to be stunt driver, and Richie’s like we can be a stunt team!!!! together!!! And Went grins, “Like Siegfried and Roy,” and Maggie elbows him.

Eddie overcomes one of his many anxieties and pets some lizards at Animal Kingdom. They fill their hats with water from the spouting fountains at Epcot and then put them straight on their heads, dumping water over themselves to cool off. It’s actually closer to Maggie’s real birthday than anyone else’s so they have dinner at Epcot Mexico for Richie, Mags AND Eddie and the mariachi band comes over. Richie and Wentworth start singing a totally inaccurate Spanish Happy Birthday and Eddie almost sinks under the table in embarrassment. People are staring, and he’s so used to people staring in public when his own mom causes a scene, but this is a fun scene, Maggie’s rolling her eyes and clapping along so maybe it’s not so bad.

They make up games to play in the long lines for rides, Maggie and Went joining in on Eye Spy, or Richie’s “Guess Which State That Gross Family Are From” game, but don’t join in with Richie and Eddie’s complicated patty-cake-thumb-war hybrid. Eddie always has a ton of water in his backpack and a lil hand-held fan in his fanny pack, and sometimes in the hotter lines he feels very bold and squishes his and Richie’s faces cheek to cheek so they can share the fan, but it doesn’t seem to make much of a difference cause Richie’s face almost feels warmer when he does.

At Typhoon Lagoon they wrestle all the way around Lazy River (and get chastised by the lifeguards) and have major water cannon wars. Eddie watches all the fit young lifeguard dudes up in their chairs like 😳😳😳 that looks like a... cool job. Helping people. Hm.

They split a thing of churros. They get right up to the top of the tallest slide and Eddie gets scared, but Richie just clambers all the way back down the stair tower with him, mouthing off at the bigger kids giving them grief, and Eddie’s like “you should have just gone without me” and Richie’s like nah, be it’d no fun without you, and Eddie thinks about this entire vacation and for a wild moment he thinks my whole life would be no fun without you.

They return to see Maggie lying face down on her deck chair and towel, reading her book with her sunny yellow bikini top untied and Went is Very Attentively Applying Sunscreen to her bare back lmao. Richie’s like UGH GROSS and Went jumps a little like, “oh fu—uh, hey boys, you’re back quick.”

The concrete is so hot they have to run quick from pool to pool to stop their soles burning. Richie can’t wear his glasses in the water so he clings to Eddie the whole time, both of them slippery and giggling and Eddie feels like he’s getting a full body sunburn every time their wet bodies bump together, even though he’s wearing like six coats of factor 50.

Oh and you know they go to Universal. Oh BOY do they go to Universal. Eddie screams on the Jaws ride when the animatronic lunges right against where he’s sitting, and he jumps back in his seat and like, Richie must’ve been way closer than he thought because he falls all over his lap and Richie’s like “Hooper ya idiot, starboard! Ain’tcha watching it!” in his Quint From Jaws Voice, which is actually one of his better Voices since Quint sounds like every other curmudgeonly Maine old-timer back in Derry, but this time he’s pretty shaky about it for some reason.

They go to the new Horror Make-Up Show and Richie waves his arm so hard he gets picked as the volunteer, and winds up making the crowd laugh even more than the hosts, they’re all mock-outraged like “Who’s your agent! You’re here from Mouse Town to make us look bad, right?!”

Then when the Wolfman bursts out, Eddie can see there’s a moment where Richie’s whole body flinches bloodless, his arms come up to cover his face, and his head jerks to stare out for a moment into the crowd looking like he did when he saw his face on a missing poster, and Eddie overcomes his terror of being Perceived by the crowd to yell “GET HIM RICH” and everyone laughs, Richie grins, and it’s fine again.

On their last night they go back to Magic Kingdom to see the fireworks, and they’re exhausted. Sun-dazed and sugar-filled and adrenaline-drained and the fireworks make everything kinda dreamy. They’re shuffling along behind Maggie and Went to get a good spot when they see Maggie take Went’s hand. Richie pulls a face at Eddie and Eddie scrunches a face back and they snicker, and Richie makes a mock “oooh~ Eddie~” noise and grabs Eddie’s hand—they both keep laughing and watching the fireworks, but like... then it stops being funny and starts being something else. Richie’s just holding his hand, and the crowd is so thick and dark under ballooning Florida clouds and the fantasy sky, so anonymous that nobody notices but them. Eddie’s heart might be shooting into the sky and exploding into sparks as well, he’s ready to collapse and he can’t possibly LOOK at Richie but for a moment he’s like shit, they’re right. Happiest place on Earth.

#reddie #tozier family #long post #once more this got away from me but i fucking love disney world ok lmao #listen every time i come back from Orlando im like ok! im done! dont need to go again! #and then by a year or so later im like WHO WANTS TO COME ROLLERCOASTING WITH ME......... #anyway idk if any of this is chronologically accurate to the parks in 1990 but that IS the year the horror make up show started #ficlet

[notveryglittery]

we could fall through december

summary: winter made everything so slow. roman didn’t think it fair.  ship: romantic roceit (roman/deceit) / wc: 1,600 warnings: sympathetic deceit, self-doubt/hatred, seasonal affective disorder, emotional outburst. let me know if i need to add anything. a/n: first fic of 2020 and it’s a gift!! feels good, feels organic. hope you like this, @rusted-but-golden <3 

read on ao3 | @fandersfic-roceit​

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Roman wondered what it was keeping him from getting out of bed.

Was it the “loss of interest?” Maybe it was the “sleep deprivation.” It just as well could have been the “lack of concentration.” Knowing his luck, it was all of the above. It was every symptom Google had listed, the apathy and the mood swings and the fatigue. He had so many things to do. There was plenty of time to do them. It was barely even noon yet which meant he had the entire day to finish the projects he’d started…

The clock flashed mockingly at him, reading 3:27. The projects he’d started had been ages ago. He couldn’t remember the last time he had picked them up. He wasn’t even sure what the date was.

Roman rolled over, burying his face into his pillow. It made breathing unnecessarily difficult. Kind of like how everything else was unnecessarily difficult. Like, why couldn’t he just kick the blankets off and get his feet on the ground? He was a prince! He was a knight! He was tough, self-assured, resilient! He had faced monsters larger than this. He faced blows to his ego like this daily.

Why did the lack of sunshine make so much of a difference?

Besides, it wasn’t like he didn’t have plenty of sunshine in his life already! Patton himself might as well have counted as one’s regular dose of vitamin D. Sometimes, Roman was lucky enough to be on the receiving end of Virgil’s smile or to hear a rare but treasured laugh from Logan. Those alone ought to have been enough to combat any gloomy day.

Finally lifting his head, Roman narrowed his eyes, squinting out the window. Not to mention, Thomas lived in Florida! The Mindscape should have reflected that. They barely had winter! It was more like extended fall. It didn’t even snow or rain (save for their consistent 3pm storm that lasted no more than an hour every day). Sure, the sun was obscured often by cloud cover but… well, it was still there! He had no excuse to be all mopey and sluggish just because the temperature had dropped.

…

Maybe he ought to just take a nap. Roman blinked, hard, and released a frustrated groan. With more effort than he’d care to admit, he lifted his arm and scrubbed the heel of his palm against his eyes, which had, quite rudely, begun to burn suddenly with tears. This was so stupid! Forcing himself to sit up felt like a herculean task, but he shoved the covers away and reached blindly for his bedside table. Instead of grabbing a tissue, though, his uncoordinated movements instead just knocked the box of Kleenex to the floor.

“Oh, come on!” He snapped, choking back a sob.

A knock sounded at the door.

“I’m busy,” he called back, without hesitation.

“You’re lying,” responded the visitor.

Roman muttered a curse under his breath. Any other day, he’d be delighted to see his beloved. As it were, he’d been avoiding Deceit just as much as he’d been avoiding everyone else. Was it a good idea to isolate himself when there was a figurative (might as well have been literal) storm cloud hovering over his head? Of course not. Not like he ever had any good ideas to begin with, anyway.

“Roman,” Deceit purred from the other side of the door.

“Fine, fine,” Roman sighed, unlocking the door with a halfhearted snap of his fingers. “Come in, then.”

At least Deceit’s arrival had distracted him from crying any more. Running a hand through his hair to try and tame his bedhead, Roman watched as Deceit let himself in. He closed the door gently behind him. He looked as exquisite as always, not a hair or thread out of place. He was carrying two containers.

“Move over,” Deceit said, seating himself on the mattress without waiting.

He set the tupperware down and turned to Roman. His eyes scanned over Roman’s face. A lot of good his poker face did him when Roman was intimately aware of every one of Deceit’s expressions and facial tics by now.

“Hi,” Deceit said softly.

“Hey,” Roman replied, muted.

Roman shifted, pulling the sheets more tightly around his waist. God, he hated winter. It was so cold. He didn’t even have the energy to conjure a space heater or electric blankets.

“Brought you lunch,” Deceit offered, picking one of the meals up and prying the lid off.

The container was full of grilled cheese sandwiches, cut into hearts. Roman looked at Deceit, unable to resist grinning a little bit.

“Patton insisted on helping,” Deceit grumbled.

Roman reached for the other and found it filled with tomato bisque. It was warm in his hands. Without a care in the world, he lifted the bowl to his mouth and drank the soup straight from it. His arms ached doing so but damn if it didn’t taste good.

“There are spoons, you know!” Deceit said, scowling.

Roman licked his lips. “Sorry.”

They ate in relative silence after that. Sometimes they took turns dipping the grilled cheeses into the soup. At one point, Roman shyly held up one of his half-eaten heart shaped sandwiches and Deceit rolled his eyes as he held his own half up against Roman’s. Deceit would talk occasionally; about Virgil and Patton taking up the living room for a blanket fort that no one else was allowed in; about Thomas and Joan’s latest additions to Reasons to Smile; about the debate he and Logan had recently regarding whether or not Pluto was a planet.

“Did he end it with viva la Pluto, fuck you?” Roman asked, reaching forward to… His fingers twitched and he pulled back, looking away.

“Of course he did,” Deceit answered. He waved a hand and the containers disappeared. A heated blanket appeared in their place. “Come here, then.”

Roman hesitated. Deceit twirled a finger in the air, changing into comfy loungewear. The next movement was directed at Roman, whose pajamas were replaced with clean ones that smelled just slightly of lavender. Deceit shoved the blanket into Roman’s lap.

God, again with the stupid tears—

“Shh,” Deceit hushed him, hands coming up to cradle Roman’s face gently. “I know. It’s okay.”

“It isn’t,” Roman croaked, allowing himself to curl his fingers around one of Deceit’s wrists. “I’m supposed to be str… stronger than this.”

“Is Patton weak when he has his Days?”

“Of course not,” Roman defended, vehemently.

“Surely, Virgil is when he panics over the tiniest of things.”

“He isn't!”

“Then why, Roman, would you think yourself weak for this?”

“It’s just a lack of sunlight,” Roman scoffed, dropping his hand to his lap, where he proceeded to pick at his chipped nail polish. He tried to turn away, tried to break their locked gaze. He was pathetic enough without having to see Deceit’s pitying expression.

“Ro,” Deceit interrupted those thoughts, tone scolding. He let Roman go, knowing better than to keep his hold when it wasn’t wanted. “Logan’s with Thomas right now but don’t think for a second that I won’t call him here if that’s what it takes.”

“We’re not going to bother him with this—”

“Bother?”

“You know what I mean!”

“Actually, I don’t,” Deceit disagreed, sneering. He hated when it came to that. “Why don’t you explain it to me?”

“The first result for "things people also ask" when you search for seasonal affective disorder is whether or not it’s real,” Roman snapped. “And I’m not real, not technically, so how can something like seasonal fucking depression affect me!”

Roman gestured towards the floor to ceiling windows that comprised one wall of his room. The sky was bright blue. “Even if it did, I have complete control over the Fantasy Realm. I could just pop in for a few hours of basking in the sunshine and I’d be all better! I can’t even do that, though!”

“Dearheart, you know vitamin D in the Fantasy Realm would work just as well as hugs and food do.” Deceit tried not to think about the last time Roman had forgotten this. It’d been… frightening, to say the least.

“They literally have lamps that do the same thing but go off I guess.”

“Alright.” Deceit said abruptly.

He grabbed the heated blanket and draped it over Roman’s shoulders. Then, with perhaps more force than necessary, he pushed Roman back down onto the pillows.

“Hey!” Roman shouted, not appreciating being manhandled, thank you very much.

Deceit didn’t answer and instead just sprawled himself on top of Roman’s chest. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but whenever you start to talk bad about yourself, one of the reasons is because you’re touch-starved.”

“I am not—!” Roman would have finished his sentence if Deceit hadn’t buried a hand into his hair and scraped his nails along his scalp. Goosebumps erupted on his arms and at the back of his neck. “That…” Roman’s eyes slid shut. “That is cheating.”

“We’re not done talking about this,” Deceit promised, carding his fingers through Roman’s locks. “Right now, though, I think you could just use some physical affection and a nap.”

“I’m…” Roman sighed, melting under Deceit’s gentle touches.

“Hmm?” Deceit hummed, shifting so that he was a bit more comfortable and so that Roman could still breathe easily. “What is it, my articulate amor?”

“M’sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for,” Deceit insisted, leaning up just close enough to press a kiss to Roman’s jaw. He tucked his face into the crook of Roman’s neck.

“... Okay,” Roman agreed haltingly. “I love you, darling.”

“I love you, your highness. Rest now.”

Whatever Roman had wanted to say was overtaken by a huge yawn. He shuffled as best he could further under the blankets, warmth wrapped around his shoulders and laid reassuringly on top of him. The idea of returning to this discussion scared him more than he thought it ought to but… He supposed he could work through it if he had someone so secure and patient like Deceit to help him.

#sanders sides fan fiction #romantic roceit #roceit #roceit fan fiction #ts deceit #roman sanders #deceit sanders #dani writes

[headoverhiddles]

Hey There, Demons - Marilyn Manson x Reader [Smut]

Synopsis: You, drummer for the Spooky Kids, aka the Dumbass Idiots, decide with the band to go ghost hunting in LA one night after a show. Bad idea for the most part, good idea for the sole reason of finally putting you and Manson together in a dark room. Feelings? What are those? 

Notes: Spooky Kids era! I’ve been watching a lot of Buzzfeed Unsolved, so here you go. Also features a bit of Twiggy x Pogo for good measure. 

"I don't believe in ghosts."

You toss a napkin at Brian. "Poser." You're all sitting in an airport, waiting for your flight from Jacksonville to Los Angeles for a show tonight.

He grins. "Nah. I'm just bullshitting, of course I do. I mean, I've never seen one, other than that whole Necronomicon thing when I was a kid, but half of me thinks that was from drinking bong water.” 

“Yeah. Well. Imagination is a beautiful thing." 

He licks his lips. "Especially when I'm jacking off."

"Gross," you mutter.

"That's not what you said last night."

"You wish," you huff.

"Cool it you two, we all know you're banging," Pogo calls out, and starts making high pitched moaning noises. You (and everyone else in the band) looks at the keyboardist, wondering if it'd attract even more attention to tape his mouth shut. "Ah! Ah! Ah!”

Jeordie joins in. “Oh, god! Oh, Brian! Yes! What a big dick you have!"

"All the better to fuck you with," Brian plays along. Jeordie climbs into Brian’s lap.

"Stop it, big boy, you're turning me on!"

"I don't sound like that," you mutter.

"Ohhh yeeeeah," Jeordie groans out a climax, and Daisy scoffs, slipping on his sunglasses to avoid the odd stares you're getting.

"I'll have what he's having."

"Unless... Brian is the one taking it," Pogo muses, "That's possible." He drops his voice. "Mmmm. Bette, make me your bitch!"

"Yeah, I just love it when (y/n) gets the strap on out and destroys my ass," Brian grumbles. You blush a little, but hide it under a laugh.

"Again. You wish."

“Am I the only one who finds it very hard to believe (y/n) would put out for Bri?” Jeordie asks. It’s Brian’s turn to toss something at his best friend.

“We all know if she had good taste in men, she’d be fucking me already.”

You hold up three fingers. “Read between the lines.”

You and Brian had been skirting around one another since you had joined the band. You had known Jeordie since working at a crappy part time job at a used record shop with him, and had met the others when Brian had moved to Florida from Ohio, which was a few years ago. They had gotten this band together with another drummer who called himself Sarah Lee Lucas.

Recently, Sarah had left the band to pursue something else, and since banging on things with sticks isn't too hard in your books, you convinced the Spooky Kids to hand you the drumsticks as the newly christened member, Bette Davis x Jeffery Dahmer: Bette Dahmer. It hadn't been easy to convince them to let a girl in, since they’re all a bunch of juvenile assholes, but with Jeordie backing you, eventually they caved.

"Back to the matter at hand," Brian says.

"Hand job," Jeordie giggles, picking a scab off. He pouts as it bleeds.

"Later," Brian quips, standing on a chair. You tug him down before a security guard can do it, and he falls on his ass. "Ow, fuck you."

"That's what anal feels like," you say.

"You would know Bets, you probably take it up the ass from fifty guys at a time, ya fuckin whore," Pogo laughs.

"Stephen, Jesus," Daisy chuckles a little. Pogo has zero filter, and sometimes it's refreshing, sometimes it's annoying. You take your wad of gum out, balling it up, and use your hair elastic to slingshot it right in his face. The guy just picks it up and pops it in his mouth.

"Aw!"

"Ew!"

"You're fucking disgusting, man."

"Eat shit and die." Pogo gives you all the finger, and Jeordie speaks up, laying his head in your lap and stretching out over the airport seats.

"Someone said something about ghosts. I like ghosts. Space ghosts."

"Yes!" Brian brings it back. "Thank you Jeordie, back on track. We are all going ghost hunting tonight, after the show."

"Who died and made you god?" Pogo asks.

"God did," Brian snapped. "And when I'm god everyone dies."

"That's profound, poetry-man," you smirk, crossing your arms, "Got any more emo shit to say before Scott gives every reason why we shouldn't break into some haunted building tonight with video cameras?"

"Who has a video camera?" Jeordie asks, wide eyed, "I wanna see how big my dick looks on screen."

"It looks just like your namesake," Brian says. "Twiggy." Jeordie looks crestfallen.

"It's not that small," you assure him, "It's average, but not small."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I'd let you have a go, if you weren’t..." You smirk, alluding to the crush Jeordie had on another band member. He goes red.

"If Brian wasn't already balls deep in that," Pogo chides.

"I bet your dick looks like a pickle," you shoot back, sticking your tongue out.

"Wanna check?"

"Okay," Daisy blushes, standing up, "Just cause we're a band, doesn't mean we need to have an orgy."

"What was the point, then?" you joke.

"Anyway. Like Bette said, I really don't think we should be doing this tonight. If we get arrested for trespassing, what'll that do to the band?"

Brian crosses his arms. "Well I'm the leader, and I say it'd give us a cool reputation!”

"Right. Members of the Marilyn Manson family get arrested for... what, looking for ghosts? What a hardcore group of people.”

"We can tell the press we killed someone. Besides, this is the type of shit we’re supposed to do as a metal band. We gotta do dumb, risky things that make us look like bonified Satanists. Otherwise we’re just posers like the rest of ‘em.”

“No, we just have to go on a couple benders in hotel rooms with some blow and a couple tatted up prostitutes, and we’ll fit in.”

“Look, we can do cocaine off girls’ tits and go ghost hunting and still be rock stars, so shut the fuck up Berkowitz, we're doing it," Brian says. Daisy puts his hands up, unwilling to argue with him any more than he already has. So, it’s settled.

You bump your foot against Brian's, and he gives a lopsided smile, brushing the long black hair out of his face and bumping your foot back. Momentarily, his attention is diverted.

"Will someone go get Jeordie? He's pissing in the water fountain."

--

You look out at the crowd. This is a bigger audience than usual here in LA.

“Lots of motherfuckers came out to see us,” Bri comes by to whisper at you, parting his hair and making sure his lipstick is nice and smeared. You nod, and toss him his big floppy top hat. He sticks it on his head as you’re introduced.

“All the way from the South Florida music scene, we’ve got Marilyn Manson and the Spooky Kids!”

Jeordie starts the first song, Negative Three, off with a bassline intro, and you start the band off with a four count on your drumsticks, then hit the drums as Brian begins to wail into the mic.

“Give me your blood, your teeth, your high school pictures...”

You watch him, not skipping a beat on your rhythm. Daisy headbangs as you launch into the chorus, and Twiggy fiddles with his bass guitar across the stage, dressed in one of his ragdoll dresses. Pogo is to the right of you, hammering away at his keys and jolting around. You always have a good time performing with the guys, but Brian’s got your attention tonight.

He keeps looking back at you, for some reason.

You almost don’t realize the change in song and the fact that you’d been playing it, and nearly jump when Brian screams into the mic: “I bring you!”

You look away from his shirtless figure, and focus on putting on a good show with them as the crowd moshes in front of you.

--

After the show, everyone stops back at the motel quickly, drying off and getting changed. You all reconvene after getting into more comfortable clothes, avoid the small group of fans waiting to follow you, and get ready to leave.

“You were great tonight,” Brian says.

“Really? I nearly missed the beginning of Lunchbox,” you huff.

“Nah, I didn’t notice it. If I had, I would’ve yelled at you til you cried.” He gives a shit eating grin.

The Viper Room. The five of you stare at it. The sun has long since set after the show, and you're in front of the LA nightclub with amateur ghost hunting equipment. (AKA, anything you could find at a five and dime store on the sunset strip this late at night).

"River Phoenix died here,” Jeordie mentions.

“And Johnny Depp owns the place," Daisy remarks.

"I know him," Brian says.

"River Phoenix?” Pogo asks, stroking his beard. “Yeah? You climb into his grave often?"

"Depp, I know Johnny Depp."

"If you know Johnny Depp, then Twiggy's Luke Skywalker," Pogo scoffs.

"Like my father before me," Twiggy mumbles. 

"No, I know him! I was an extra on his show, 21 Jump Street. He's cool, we're friends."

"Suuuure."

Even Jeordie snickers at that, after emerging from his Star Wars fantasy. "Fuck you guys," Brian mutters, "If Johnny was here right now--"

"Oh, you're on a first name basis, huh?"

"If Johnny was here right now, you fucking clown asshole, he'd say hi Brian, and tell you to go fuck yourself."

"He'd say ‘hi Brian’?" you tease, and he smiles.

"Yes, he would. He's nice."

“Would he like me?”

“Anyone would like you.”

"Does he think this place is haunted?"

"I don't know," the singer hums, "I never asked."

You pick the lock, all enter, and shut the door behind you. It's pitch black, and frankly a little nerve-wracking.

"We shouldn't be here," Daisy sing songs.

"One more word out of you and we're feeding you to the ghosts," Pogo says.

"The same could be said for you," you say to the keyboardist. He shoots a dirty look your way that you can't see through the dark. "I did some reading,” you admit, and everyone turns to you. “Apparently there’s a body buried downstairs, in the crawlspace.”

“Johnny’s a killer,” Jeordie whispers in awe.

“That’s fucking rad,” Brian mutters, “I have even more respect for the guy now.”

“It wasn’t Johnny, don’t say that shit out loud in Hollywood or you’ll get sued,” you say, rolling your eyes. “So aside from the bones, the ghostly activity is downstairs in the basement, the VIP room, and by the bar.”

"I know where I'll be," Jeordie smiles, and walks over to the bar. "Pour me a stiff one River, and don't spare the rum."

Pogo sighs. "C'mon, Daisy. The odd couple are going down to the basement."

"Uh, now I think I should be the one to stay at the bar." Daisy shakes his head. "If Jeordie does, we'll have smashed bottles and cop sirens."

"Fine," Jeordie complains, shoving his red and black dreads out of his face.  

“Whatever, dude. It’s just a bunch of bullshit anyway,” Pogo mutters, “It’s like Santa Clause, parents invent ghosts and all that shit to scare kids into behaving themselves, the ever present fascism of the oppressed American youth...” Jeordie follows the ranting keyboardist downstairs, shooting you a desperate look. You just smile, giving a little good luck wave.  

“That leaves you and me in the VIP room,” you say, turning to Brian.

“That it does,” he replies, licking his lip ring. “Just don’t try to hold my hand. That’s sick.”

“If you touch me, I’ll scream,” you retort, and walk ahead of him. He admires your ass with the flashlight, and you smile a little.

Downstairs in the basement, Pogo starts banging on the walls.

“Hello! My friends, my ghoulish friends! My... ghoulfriends, if you will. ANYONE WHO’S GOT THEIR BONES BURIED BACK HERE, MAKE A NOISE! Fart or something!” He swings his arms around.  

“Did Johnny Depp kill you?” Jeordie asks, eyes wide. He twitches at a car honk outside.

Pogo bounces up and down. “Come attack me, bones! Make me one of you! Come on, murder me and bury me, daddy! I’m into that kinky shit! I am here for the taking!”

“That sounds a little forceful,” Jeordie whispers.

“On my part, or their part?” Silence.

“Good point.”  

They keep walking around, and Jeordie trips on something. Pogo keeps banging and yelling obnoxiously. “GOBLINS, GHOULIES, FROM LAST HALLOWEEN! AWAKEN THE SPIRITS WITH YOUR TAMBOR—hey Jeordie, what the fuck are you doing on the ground?”

“I just like the taste of carpet,” Jeordie retorts, sarcasm apparently not evident enough for Pogo to catch it.  

“Jesus, what are you on? I want some.”  

“Help me up?”  

“Yeah, yeah,” the mad clown mutters, and leans down. Jeordie takes his arm, and the two look at each other for a few seconds, the flashlight beneath them illuminating the specks of dust floating through the inch or so between their faces. “Uh...” Pogo whispers, deep voice grumbling.

“Yeah,” Jeordie swallows, and the two stand again, looking away from one another.

Upstairs, you and Brian enter the VIP room.

“Hey there demons, it’s me. Marilyn Manson,” he says, “This is my concubine, Bette Dahmer. Scare us.”  

You glare at him. “Actually, scare me. You can just kill him.” The two of you look around with the flashlight a bit, inspecting the dark wallpaper and decor.

“This is kinda spooky,” Brian admits.

“It’s nice,” you say, stroking the dust off a lamp, “Very gothic. I can see why movie stars like this place.”

“Yeah.” Brian turns the flashlight on and off, finally setting it on a small table and letting the beam keep the room dimly lit. “Lots of old Hollywood glamour. You’d fit right in.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you’d look pretty in an old Marilyn Monroe dress. Or at least one of Jeordie’s.”  

“What if Marilyn Monroe came here?” you giggle.

“Hey, Mar! Thanks for the name!” Brian calls, “If we get rich and famous, we’ll give you the royalties!” You lounge out on one of the couches, and he eyes you. “You could be sitting on a ghost right now,” he says, “You could have a ghost inside you.”

“Mm?”

“You could be sitting right on his big ghost cock.”

“That’s hot.”

“You could have me inside you too, if you wanted.”

“Y’know, I think we’ve been on the road too long,” you laugh, “Pogo’s jokes are getting to you.”

“It’s not the jokes.”

“Yeah, well. If I’m starting to look hot to you, you must be delirious.”

“Nah... I really do think you’re hot, Bets.”

He sits next to you, and you look over at him. “Seriously?”

He ducks his head. “Yeah.”

“I... feel the same way. I mean, I was never ever gonna tell you, cause soon, with any luck, we’ll be big rock and roll stars, and you-- well, you know how it works. You’ll have a million groupies, you’ll be drowning in free pussy.”

“Fuck the groupies. I want your pussy.”

You laugh. “You say that now.”

“Yeah, I do. Til someone better comes along, which I doubt will happen.” He lifts his eyes to meet yours. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you all night. It was weird onstage—usually I can hide it, but tonight... I don’t know. You sitting there, in that top, with your eyes... you were just...” He looks down again, his old shyness coming back. You don’t know what to say. You can only stare at his lips.

Over at the bar, Daisy sits patiently, watching the glass he’s set on a napkin. “Hello, ghosts. It’s me, Scott. You can call me Daisy if you like. If you can hear me, move the cup.”

He stares at the cup. The cup does not move.

Downstairs, Pogo and Twiggy are awkwardly trying to continue their ghost hunt without talking about the moment they just had.

“So, uh, so ghoulies. Where ya from?” Pogo shouts. “Is SATAN in the room with us? We are BIG FANS, sir.” Jeordie starts giggling about something. “What is it?!”

“I just heard a bang above us.”

“That means the demons have come out to play, Jeordie-boy!” Pogo cackles, hopping up on a booth seat and drumming the ceiling.

“No. It means Bette and Manson are screwing around,” Twigs laughs. Then his face gets dead serious. “What if, uh...”

“What if what?” Pogo glances over suspiciously.

“What if... they weren’t the only ones?”

You gasp, standing up and staring at the shattered lamp that had just fallen off the table. “Oh my god. That wasn’t me.”

“Wasn’t me.”

“They’re totally gonna think we’re screwing around up here.”

“Maybe we are,” Brian gets up too, tucking his hair behind his ear.

“Y-you wanna?” you back up. He nods, and falls on top of you on the other couch.

At the bar, Daisy sits, staring at the cup. He patters his fingers on his knees. “It’s okay, ghosts,” he says, smiling politely, “I can wait.”

He stares at it some more. The cup does not move.

In the room, you reach your hand up Brian’s back underneath his black t-shirt. “Fuck, I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“Shut up and take my pants off.”

“Don’t tell me to shut up. Take your own pants o... ohhh, god, yeah.” Brian reaches up to massage your breasts, and you throw your head back, undoing his fly.  “How long have you wanted to do this?”

“Since the day I walked into the dumb record shop and stole that David Bowie EP.”

“What the fuck?! I got fired for that!”

Downstairs, Pogo runs a hand over his smooth bald head. “I don’t know, man. This sounds very gay to me.”

“I mean,” Jeordie scuffs his shoe on the ground, “It doesn’t have to be. Or like, it could be. If you’re cool with that.”

“If I’m cool with being a homo?”

“...Yeah.”

Pogo looks up at Jeordie, and sighs. “For you?” He glances around the dark, creepy basement, then back to the bassist. “I could be cool with that.”

Daisy changes tactics. “Here. Don’t like moving cups? That’s okay, neither do I sometimes. Let’s try this again.” He smiles. “What’s your name?”

“Oh, god... Brian!” you moan from the VIP room.

“Br... Brian!” Daisy says, excitedly, standing up. “You have the same name as my friend! Oh god... okay, um... how did you die, Brian?”

“Get inside me,” you groan, and Brian takes his boxers down, kissing you as he sinks into your tight heat. The two of you moan, base instincts taking over.

“In... inside you?!” Daisy repeats, eyes lighting up at the apparent paranormal activity he’s discovered. “Oh! You died from an overdose, just like River, didn’t you? You had too many narcotics inside you!”

Downstairs, Pogo steps forward, and swallows. Jeordie closes his eyes, and waits. Suddenly, a car screeches through a red light outside, and Jeordie practically jumps into Pogo’s arms, forcing the two together at the lips. Pogo’s eyes fly open, and Jeordie’s close again, enjoying the kiss. They break away, and stare at one another. Pogo swears, and goes in for another kiss.

“Harder,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around the singer’s neck. He pushes his hips in faster.

“You like it rough, sweetheart?”

“Yeah Bri, I like it rough, yeah...”

He reaches down, finding your sweet spot. You arch into him, scratching your nails up his slender back. He keeps pounding into you, and grunts into your neck.

“Baby, baby, baby...”

“Do you have a message for me, or for any members of our band?” Daisy asks, and lowers his voice conspiratorially. “You know... some insider’s industry tips?” He winks.

“Goood, you’re so fucking good!”

Daisy raises his eyebrows. “I... well thank you! Thank you very much, we really try to reach people with our music.”

“What the fuck are you blabbering about?” Pogo mutters on the stairs, wiping Twiggy’s lipstick off his chin. Daisy beckons them over.

“Shhh! Watch this. I’m sorry I ever doubted you guys... the spirits are so active in this place! Forget making records. We could be mediums!” Jeordie joined Pogo over by the bar as Daisy went on. “Okay—if you’re here with us now, give us a sign.”

There’s a loud bang, followed by a creak and a faint gasp. Jeordie and Pogo look at one another, actually a little bit freaked out by the response. Then comes the “communication.”

“I’m coming, oh-- I’m coming!”

“Where?!” Daisy cries, “Show yourself, come!” Pogo sighs, and Jeordie falls to the floor, laughing.

“I think they already did, pal.” The keyboardist raises his painted on eyebrows, and points to the VIP room. You stumble out, hair messed to hell, and Brian comes out behind you, buckling up his belt. Daisy stares at the two of you for the longest time, before getting up and walking toward the door.

The rest of you go to walk out, deeming the place a paranormal dud, when a gust of wind blows behind you. Brian’s about to turn around, accusing Jeordie of leaving a window open or something, but there’s nothing there. Then, everything happens at once. Daisy’s cup tips over the side of the counter and shatters. The door to the VIP room slams shut, and you all start to hear thumping footsteps coming up the stairs from the basement.  

You and Brian grab at each other, running out first while laughing. Pogo shoves Jeordie over and bolts out. A few seconds later, he runs back in, grabbing the bassist by the hand and dragging him out too. Daisy stays, getting out the video camera. Brian walks back in, guiding the guitarist out calmly, and closes the club’s front door with a click.

“Hey uh, Bri?” you say, taking his arm. He grunts, putting an arm around you. “Next time you see your friend Johnny Depp... maybe don’t mention that we fucked in his haunted club. Kay?”

#marilyn manson #marilyn manson x reader #reader x marilyn manson #this band is just too much fun to write for #that's probably why I keep doing sk era stuff #madonna wayne gacy #twiggy ramirez #twiggy x pogo #pogo x twiggy #brian warner x reader #reader x Brian warner #brian hugh warner #the spooky kids #marilyn manson and the spooky kids #ghost hunting #buzzfeed unsolved #inspired by buzzfeed unsolved #marilyn manson smut #marilyn manson fanfiction #daisy berkowitz #bette dahmer #marilyn manson imagine #marilyn manson imagines #marilyn manson fandom #mansonite #mansonites

[khoicesbyk]

The Nanny Affair

The Fight.

Author’s Note: This fanfic right here is another challenge thrown down by a skilled writer/sister friend. I once again accept! Talley Ho! *in my Sherlock Holmes voice*

Song and Story inspiration: Ro James-Burn Slow and Sign Your Name-Terence Trent D’Arby.

***Rated: Mature 18+. Contains strong language.

***Bolded and/or italicized words are conversations and thoughts of the characters.

***Characters: Sam Dalton (LI) and Krystal Parker (MC).

***All Characters and names (except MC) are property of Pixelberry.

Current Word Count: 2,600 words.

3:34am.

That’s what the clock on her phone read, when she checked it.

3:34am.

For the third time in 2 weeks; she woke up in the middle of the night, gasping for air, shaking and in a cold sweat because of him. Because she’s being haunted; not just by how much she wants, misses and needs him. But; by how much she wants that night at the gala to happen again.

It has been 2 weeks since everything had happened; between Sam and Krystal. She hadn’t heard from nor seen him in that long. Because; he was either gone before she woke up; or she was already asleep when he got home. She knew he was avoiding her. And the poor girl was starting to crack under the misery.

After finally forcing herself back to sleep; Krystal was up and getting the boys ready for their week long trip, with their grandparents to their beach house in The Florida Keys. They both were excited to go but; bummed that Krystal wasn’t going with them.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna go Krystal?”, Mason asked.

“Yeah, you could even sleep in the Grandpa’s boathouse!”, Mickey quipped.

“After being Krystal smashed, squished, sandwiched, piled on AND pillowed for the last 2 weeks: I need a break!…preferably BEFORE I wind up in the funny farm.”, she said as she helped the boys tote their suitcases to the front door.

“Awwww!”, the boys collectively pouted.

“None of that! You’ll be back before you know it! And don’t forget to bring me some seashells, you two!”, she told them. “I’m gonna miss you two while you’re gone!”

“We’re gonna miss you too! We promise to be very good for Nana and Grandpa!”, Mason said to her.

“Yeah! What he said!”, Mickey told her.

“That’s all I ask. Alright you two! Carter just texted me. He’s outside. Let’s go load up!”, she tells them as she leads them to the car. Before they left; they wrapped her up in the tightest, fiercest and most loving hug, their two little bodies could give. And she gave that hug right back to them. She watched as they pulled off and got misty eyed.

She missed her two sweet babies already.

They are what kept her around. They are what made that house bearable, since their father was seemingly AWOL as of late. And now that they’re going off to Florida for a week; the house seemed colder. Because; instead of 4 people in that house, it was just 2. Her and Sam.

What was she gonna do?

Well, for starters; she was gonna attempt to NOT traumatize herself, by straightening up their room. As she got to their room, she put her headphones in, turned on Amazon Music and let Ro James take her away as she cleaned up.

About an hour after her straightening up; Sam came home. He was coming from the Airpark. He had to say goodbye to his boys; before they left for a week of fun in the sun. After having to put out yet another fire due to the data breach in Milan; he was a mix of flustered, anxious and feeling like he could break something with his bare hands.

Without even thinking, whether or not Krystal was home; Sam went and changed into his gym clothes. He hadn’t noticed she was home until he saw her in the kitchen. She was getting a bottle of water and still had her headphones in. He had no idea what she was jamming to; but it was clear that she was jamming.

At least she was until he scared her by tapping her on the shoulder.

“Jesus Fucking Christ! What are you doing here?!”, she asked as she tries to calm her breathing and heart rate.

“…I live here? I mean the last time I checked; I owned the house.”, he told her as he leaned against the kitchen island.

She rolled her eyes in clear annoyance. She was also trying to hide the fact; that she was loving seeing him in his workout gear. He chuckled as he asked her, “what have you been doing?”

“A little something I like to call: just finished cleaning your kids room. I never thought that; two 7 year olds could traumatize me. Apparently I was wrong.”, she told him.

He grimaced at the thought. “Yeah…I guess I should’ve warned you about that. Remind me to put a little extra in your check.”, he told her. She nodded.

“What are you doing home so early? I thought you’d be spending the day in the office.”, she told him.

“I was. But; I remembered that the boys and my parents were leaving today. So, I met them at the airpark in Gaithersburg then came home and saw you. And here we are!”, he said with a shrug. She rolled her eyes again.

“Headed out for a run?”, she asked.

“Nope. About to hit the punching bag and maybe the weights.”, he told before he asked her. “You wanna join? I could use the company.”

“Sure. I got some steam to blow off, anyway.”, she replied.

After changing into her workout clothes she joined him in the gym. It was pretty decent sized gym. It had a little bit of everything in it, even has a boxing ring and a sauna.

Every so often; she would catch herself looking at him; out the corner of her eye. Sam is gorgeous! Especially whenever his muscles flexed or he rolled his neck and shoulders. She was still royally pissed at him but; when it came to seeing him sweat she couldn’t help but want him.

He was her entire weakness.

After about 2 1/2 hours; they both had worked up a pretty good sweat. She was feeling invigorated. She needed the distraction and she got it. Even if what caused her to need the distraction from in the first place; was in the same room.

While taking a small break; Krystal watched him on the punching bag. He reminded her of her older brother Kelly; who’s a former Marine. He was pretty good. Except for his right hook. It wasn’t bad but it wasn’t all that good.

“You need to work on your right hook.”, she told him.

“Huh? I need to work on what?”, he asks her.

“You need to work on your right hook. It’s lacking. Quite a bit actually.”, she replied.

“Well alright hotshot! Since I’m lacking quite a bit; as you put it why don’t you show me how it’s done?”, he asked in a sarcastic tone.

She rolled her eyes, taped up her hands and went to work. When she was finished; she told him, “you have to have better control on your speed. You’ve got the right amount of strength; but your speed is horrible.”

He flashed a small smile. He was both impressed and insulted by her.

“Well…now that you’ve all but insulted my skills; hit the ring with me. Let’s see you in action.”, he told her.

“It’s your funeral.”, she shrugged; before stepping into the ring with him.

When they were across from each other; she asked him. “So pick your poison boss. A boxing match or a little game I like to call: tap or pass?”

“Definitely tap or pass!”, he replied.

“Alright then! Rules are simple. You make other person tap out or pass out.”, she answered.

“So it’s about submission, eh? Works for me! Besides it wouldn’t be the first time that you submitted to me.”, he replied. She wanted to punch that smug grin off his face.

At this point; she was beyond annoyed by and pissed at him. And was full on ready to kick his smug faced ass.

“Like I said earlier: it’s your funeral.”, she tells him before going to one corner; he went to the corner across from her.

“You ready?”, she asks him.

“Let’s go!”, he replies before taking his shirt off. He hoped it would distract her. But; he was about to find out that; when it comes to tap or pass, Krystal isn’t easily distracted.

With Redman’s “Let’s Get Dirty” blasting through the surround sound in the background; the “game” was on. They circled each other; waiting on the other one to strike. Sam was first to strike. A fury of punches and blocks soon followed.

They danced around each other; both looking for an opening on other one. Krystal found her opening and she took it, with a stiff right hook to his jaw. It caused him to drop to one knee.

“So that’s what we’re doing?”, he asked while briefly holding his jaw as he stood up. She merely shrugged and said, “it’s called tap or pass for a reason.”

He simply nodded as he returned fire. She was able to dodge most of his shots; until he got a good one in on her kidneys. He stopped and asked, “are you alright?”

“I’ll be fine! Let’s go!”, she said through ragged breaths.

Soon; punches and kicks turned into takedowns. With each trying to trap and out do the other. He wanted a fight and she was giving him one. But; what they both failed to remember is that neither likes to lose. At all; for any reason. He intensified his attempts to take her down. She was going to lose. He just needed the right time and she thought the same for him.

Like a spider does a fly in its web; Sam finally caught her. He had her pinned face down to the mat, in a sleeper hold with his knee on her back.

“You’re not getting out of this, kitten. I’ve got you right where I want you!”, he whispered harshly in her ear.

“Don’t call me kitten!”, she sneered. She managed to get free but; because that sleeper hold zapped a significant amount of her energy; it didn’t take him long to capture her again.

This time; he had her in another sleeper hold, but with his legs around her midsection. By slightly arching his back; he had the sleeper hold as well as the body scissors locked in. She was going to fight her way out of this. But; the more she tried to move, the tighter that body scissors felt.

“Give up Krystal! You’re NOT getting out of this!”, he growled in her ear.

“The…fuck…I’m…not!”, she replied. She was determined not to lose. Especially; not to the one person, who had her heart and emotions all over the damn place. But! Try as she might Krystal was trapped. Especially after; he shifted his weight slightly; by rolling onto his left side and trapping her left arm. Doing so, put her in a position that all but killed her left shoulder.

“Give up Krystal! It’s over! You have nowhere else to go!”, he told her.

“No!”, she shouted as she struggled to get free.

“Let go Krystal! It’s NOT worth you passing out!”, he told her.

She tried her hardest to try to hold on. But he was just too strong and she was too tired. With; tears full of frustration and fury in her eyes…she finally tapped out.

When he let her go; he felt everything but victorious. Especially when he saw the tears in her eyes; as she tried to put some feeling back into her left arm.

“Are you okay?”, he asked her clearly concerned about her.

“I’m fine!”, she snapped at him as she finally got up off the mat.

“You’ve been off ever since I came home. What’s gotten into you?”, he asked her.

“What would you expect from someone; that you’ve been ignoring for ohhh what is it, two weeks now?”, she replied with a question of her own before walking away.

That’s when the realization hit him like a gut punch. The gala…or at least everything that happened afterwards.

“Krystal wait a minute! Please!”, he called out to her before catching up to her.

“About that night—“, was all he said before she turned around; eyes blazing with heart ache and fury, “don’t okay? Just don’t! You’ve said all you needed to say to me! Or lack thereof that is.”

As she turned back around; she heard three words that she never thought she’d ever hear from him.

“Krystal…I love you!”, he said to her. She instantly froze in place.

“What did you say?”, she asked him. Not because she wanted to get her hopes up but; because she wanted to make sure she heard him correctly.

“I love you! And I’m sorry baby. I’m so sorry that it took me this long to say it to you. I haven’t been intentionally trying to ignore you. I promise you that. But; I realize now that I have been distant. And that’s not fair to you. Look, it’s not that I don’t want to be around you. Because I do. I always want to be around you! Hell I want you! I need you! I HAVE TO have you! I want to taste you! I want to touch you! I want to please you! I want to see you smile! And right now if I’m to be honest: all I want to do is kiss you.”, he told her. She was stunned.

“Are you…are you serious?”, she asks him.

“Every word baby. Every single word.”, he responded as he got closer to her. He pulled her into an embrace; careful not to hurt her already sore left arm and shoulder. As soon as she was in her arms; the dam of emotions she was holding back broke. And she burst into tears.

“If you love me like you say you do; then why shut me out? Why treat me like I’m some dirty little secret of yours? Why keep me at arms length but expect me to welcome you with open arms and heart?”, she asks with tears streaming down her face. He did the one thing; he swore; he’d never do: he broke her heart.

“I should have a response to that. But the truth is; I don’t. I don’t have an answer for my actions towards and about you. Other than; I’m a selfish and self centered bastard who is absolutely crazy about you. I just…God this is hard! Baby; you have to understand that I haven’t felt this way about a woman since, my wife Samina died. When I lost her; I felt like I lost my heart and soul. I did actually. I lost my heart and soul. And I swore that I would never again; love any woman like I loved her. That was until I met you. The day that you walked into my office for the first time; as cliche as it sounds; it was love at first sight for me. And it’s been that way ever since.”, he explained.

She was stunned once again. She just stood there; trembling in his arms as she cried. She finally heard it. He finally said it.

“Sam…”, she managed to say through her tears.

“Yes?”, he replied as he rubbed her back and placed a small kiss on her forehead.

“I love you too.”, she told him.

At that moment; he gave into every ounce of unrestrained and unbridled passion; that he had in him. And he kissed her like his life depended on it.

Because in that moment…it most certainly did.

“Come with me?”, he asked her.

“To where?”, she replied.

He never said a word. He just took her hand and led her to his bedroom.

@lucy-268 @txemrn @choicesficwriterscreations @lovelyladyk88

😘

K.

#choices #choices fanfiction #fanfic #khoicesbyk #pixelberry #choices stories you play #choices tna #sam dalton #the nanny affair

[route22ny]

I grew up in the Bay Area at the height of AIDS panic, and all of that era’s sex paranoia remains burned into my brain, repurposed for Covid-19 and the act of commingling wet breath. A few weeks into this crisis, I found myself having a ten-foot-distant conversation with my neighbor Patty, both of us incredulous at people who still tried to talk to us in-tight face-to-face, like we weren't all suddenly barebacking reality with everyone they'd chit-chatted with that day and everyone in their lives, etc. Patty allowed that she should be able to strike people she considered a threat. I mentioned Florida's attitude toward this legal principle and firearms. I suggested she become militant. I tell that to a lot of people, but I attenuate the humor of it for the audience. I tell every teacher I know to strike.

There are more sirens now. It's hard to tell, because unlike New York, everything isn't quiet. Cars are out on the road—fewer, but enough that hearing a siren can still be vehicular idiocy and not a more sinister house call. But I still hear more of them.

I don’t know why Luke asked me to write about Coronavirus in Florida. I mostly stopped writing last year when a good friend dropped dead in front of his family. (Subscribe to my Substack—we don't update regularly!) Before that, I felt increasingly overborne by events. Things ground to a halt in 2019, but the machine began to break down long before. I ended the 2016 campaign periodically sitting under my desk, high, feeling secure because I wasn't writing anything stupid and feeling good because I was appropriately afraid of everything, but people thought I was exaggerating when I mentioned it.  

I wish I could say my seriousness about the novel coronavirus stems solely from believing in science and peer review and that I would take it seriously regardless, but my spouse is immunocompromised, and my father, who lives out in the Bay Area, had Covid-19, back in March or early April. He didn't tell us kids until he was out of the woods, but for days he had fevers over 103º. My stepmom, a former emergency room nurse, couldn't get him admitted anywhere, because he wasn't having respiratory problems. He woke up the same every day: It felt like someone had parked a Volkswagen on him.

We're supposed to say he's out of the woods. I'll believe that when he dies of old age, or something more reasonable that kills men in my family, like colon cancer or car accidents. Sometimes I think about him dropping dead like my friend, only from whatever post-Covid-19 effect triggers the brain’s forgetting to tell the lungs to breathe—or from the one that leads to storms of strokes, like a brain's blood vessels recreating the burning energies depicted on a CRISS ANGEL MINDFREAK poster. Then I wonder how I would die, or my wife, or my friend in Atlanta, or my brother. I think about drowning in open air, alone in a hissing world, and being incapable of saying the overdue apologies I ran out of time for.

After a while I realized that basically all Luke wanted was to hear from a coward living in the mismanaged kleptocracy of Florida, and the thing is, I can do that! I’m frightened right now!

I considered opening with, Every day I wake up frightened, to throw a fucking jolt into a piece about facing down a pandemic in a place where they have a paradise just for the cheeseburgers. But the joke is, I'm not wastin' away here in Coronaville. Sometimes I wake up and just have to pee, on the rare days when I don't wake up from the sensation of my son elbow-dropping my head because—how rude of me—it's 6:45 already.

In this respect, I am serene: My son and I exercise outside to burn off his energy, so I'm out in the sun for hours a day. I'm tanner, I've lost weight, and my phlegm feels looser. I grew a lushly indifferent goatee. My haircut looks like something that belongs on the gatefold cover of a concept album about a form of locomotion by a band named after geography. While the term "Lebowski Phase" has been applied to my appearance and to the fact that my leg injury and medical-marijuana prescription have collided with the reality of never having to drive anywhere again, I must insist that in many respects I have come to look like Jesus Christ. I am pro life and take no pleasure in reporting this.

As I have said, I am frequently awakened by my son, whose full name is My Beautiful Five-Year-Old Son Maitland. He is a treasure who spends quarantine within earshot of 24-hour news, regurgitating West Wing Democrat observations of mine with five-year-old precocity to harvest follows for Instagram. Maitland is an influencer already on record as supporting L’Oréal, opposing Medicare For All, and, when I first read him the shaggy start to this piece, he said, "Not a good look." He's a natural.

Waking up is violent but easy. The problem is everything after that. By the time I close my eyes, I'm not sure what I felt most on any given day—anger, sadness, impotence, a resentful churning need for vengeance, despair. Any one can seem like a day's dominant emotional dysfunction and then suddenly be overwhelmed by the dread that suffuses prolonged thought about the world outside.

I am one of the people who is Taking It Seriously. Seriously Taking It Seriously, though—not the people who say they're taking it seriously and then tell you about:

• Going to a recent indoor birthday party.

• Having a multi-course dinner at a fancy restaurant, "But it was okay because it was [extremely not-worth-a-life celebration]!"

• A full-contact playdate their kid had recently with two other children.

I abhor these people. I have an existential loathing of these people, and a granular scientific indictment. I enjoy reading new articles to learn new ways in which they are a danger to me. My apprehension is rich and exquisite. May their friends shun them, and may they be abandoned by their gods.

Sooner or later, every day, I think of the threats arrayed against me and my family. Each day, I see the most recent thing said by my governor, Ronald Fuckface DeSantis, in which he explicitly endorses and declares his intent to pursue actions that all available data say will kill Floridians by the thousands. Each day, I think about how, if I do so much as suggest fostering a free exchange of ideas about the proportional value of using every means to stop him, I will be arrested.

Every day, I bounce the "Evil or Moronic?" debate around my brain. I check in with an alumna buddy in Atlanta to see whose governor has shown more recent determination to murder his citizens. I gotta give Brian Kemp credit, because he's really holding his own. Naturally, this leads to wondering if either of them have a natural or acculturated advantage in terms of idiocy and malevolence. DeSantis' enrollment at Yale and Harvard and service in the military problematizes the idiocy narrative only for as long as it takes to remember all the people you've met who've gone to any of them and were dumber than dogshit. It would seem like fate to be murdered by an oaf, but I don't know that it's not merciful to at least be murdered purposefully rather than contemptuously and indolently.

Eventually, this leads to spending some time thinking about DeSantis as a kind of lethal bro angel. It's hard not to see his shitchyeah, brah, people are dyin', it's classic! expression and recognize that the state's chief executive resembles a lout you don't want to run into walking alone at FSU after a home loss. I prefer my jokes about the governor, but my friend David Roth nailed it when he said that DeSantis seemed like a person who would describe himself as “kind of a DUI guy.”

I know there's supposedly a culture war out there. There's a truck in my neighborhood with a Q sticker, and another with a Three-Percenter sticker, and there are more than a few neighbors of the "easily victimized white dude who owns a $50,000 truck he rarely takes off the pavement and who becomes physically belligerent when you correct him" variety, but there's a reason why you really only see “war” shit on YouTube. Few Americans are hostile to general safety protocols, and even fewer act out against them. I live where hate groups and old fashioned unaffiliated redneck trash drive in from the county to make a show of rebel flags, rolling coal and honking to intimidate protests, but people line up six feet apart at Home Depot, wear masks at Publix and get takeout at the pizza place outside without insisting on barging in. Most wars don’t need one side of them to be this manufactured.

Most of my friends and colleagues from this gig live in New York, so I've already sat through weeks of descriptions of streets silent except for ambulances, and I’ve already woken for weeks to the half-twilight of nightmares where friends died in a spare white hallway. There aren't a lot of surprises in store for Florida, and no images I can describe that would make you want to turn back now. It's like we're waiting for the rolling premiere of a franchise blockbuster. The dead won't really start packing them in for a few more weeks, but all the scariest shit hit YouTube when it opened in New York a thousand years ago. The coronavirus as an image, what it functionally is, as a horror, feels as familiar as the Scream mask, and the context that makes that scary as hell already feels dangerously been-and-gone, like an apprehension that Florida had for too long before the actual scare came.

There's a hope that all this will come to little again. Despite Governor DeSantis' refusal to take the initiative on shutting down the state until the last dollar was wrung from the last snowbird, the original shellacking never came. The Tampa Bay Times sampled smartphone data and concluded that Floridians overwhelmingly took the initiative to stay home, and they were aided in their quarantine process by the fact that Florida is car-dependent and atomized.

The heartbreaking realization, as you gradually run across more people who are Not Taking It Seriously or are Expressing Moronic Skepticism, is that for a month there about 80 percent of America was on board with doing the right thing. We, a people who suck at doing the right thing even for the wrong reasons, stood on the side of doing the harder thing if it helped people who weren't even us.

I really can't tell if I feel more anger than sadness at the fact that those who were meant to encourage us in safety, to serve us by offering difficult guidance, wasted our sacrifice and our trust. They squandered the patience given by a beggared and exhausted people. All they had to do was the right thing, and if they weren't sure what that was, they could have erred on the side of saving people’s lives and hoping it counted, and they failed.  

Instead, more people will die, and we'll be shut down again, and we will realize we are fundamentally unequipped for life with Covid-19. Florida is built on enclosed air-conditioned spaces: It's dependent on divorcing yourself from Florida as a climate and place. Asking Floridians to generate a public life under the unshielded rage of God’s angriest sun and baked from beneath by a sprawling pave-ocalypse requires asking them to rebel against everything their infrastructure has taught them for as long as they can remember. It is a car culture to the flesh and bone, and a restaurant relocating indoor tables to a road patio would park its diners inches away from eternity.

A picnic day like that is months off, again. It's time to go back inside and resume Inside Time. Inside Time melts away. I saw a headline around the Fourth of July, from the New York Times, that read, "In the Covid-19 Economy, You Can Have a Kid or a Job. You Can’t Have Both," and I remember seeing colleagues tweet, mmmm, so true, and, gets at something crucial we aren't talking about, and shit like that, and I was like, "Buddy, let's get in the DeLorean and visit March." I have nowhere to go, anyway, and all life is timeless.

We have no family in the area and have had no break. It's the three of us, like No Exit, but if most of the dialogue was the word "no" and a lot of stuff about poop and butts and farts, good guys and bad guys, and what Lego Star Wars would do, but with a lot of excruciated pleading for silence because Mom and Dad Are Working Right Now and We Love You Very Much but Jesus Christ Please Stop for the Love of God I Will Give You a Dollar If You Go in Your Room and Be Quiet and Play That Kindle App That Teaches You to Read That You Pay Attention to More Than Us Even Though I Would Read You a Fucking Novel If You'd Just Shut Up and Sit Still.

I'm resigned to staying in here until 2022. I’m screaming, but I will do it. I'm lucky in that I have access to a community pool and a neighborhood where my son and I can roam around on bikes and romp and look at water and birds and turtles. When we're lazy, we have a porch where we can feel nature without feeling exposed. We have a dependable (ok!!! haha!!!) income, and I can do irregularly scheduled work that allows me to be Parent rather than Employee. Exercise, meals and stories take up enough hours that I might as well lean into it.

But we’re lucky. We have a house and prescription mood-altering drugs and one thousand years of undersleep, but we are in less immediate danger than most. The state, almost reflexively, reaches out to open more doors even as Covid-19 blows past reopening benchmark after reopening benchmark.

The inexorable march for commerce doesn’t even come from malice in many cases; people in charge just don’t know how to do anything else but extort and scold people into working under any conditions, so long as it devours most of their time. All the exploitive principles are expected to work the same even if the world they built is fraudulent. We feed meat and the virus into the machines, irrespective of what the data says, and pray for rain. Watching Florida government on the state and local level is like watching two parents bring an alcoholic home after he got kicked out of rehab and deciding that the best course of action is leaving him with $5,000 in an apartment up the street from a dive bar and then going to Cancun for the week. It was on the calendar already, there wasn’t any choice, he looked very healthy at the time!

We have friends who are teachers, and we are scared for their spouses and kids. I don't know what Florida's plan for its teachers is other than to murder them. Again, I don't know if DeSantis is an idiot for flirting with giving enormous bipartisan sympathy to arguably the most effective labor group in the state, or a genius for flirting with finally eliminating a lobbying obstacle to conservative governance by simply liquidating its members as a class.

I worry if I start listing all the things I'm scared of, they'll never stop, but every day I see my son reach for something he should be able to reach for, and I either have a low-grade panic response and stifle it, or I have the panic response and yelp at him to get his attention and tell him to stop, startle him, and add another layer of gun-shy haunting to his day. I'm afraid he'll eventually become an animal in a Skinner Box in which all the buttons and levers are electrocuted, and there are no prizes.

I'm afraid that my son will always be emotionally arrested at two years behind the development of people the same age who had siblings in their house, or who, like many kids in my neighborhood, had parents who thought kids were invincible to Covid-19 and let them play with whomever they wanted. I worry that he may pay a price year after year even into adulthood because other kids got to practice socializing as we rode past. They got to hang out with people their own age and run around and do vitally stupid shit and say "butts" a lot, and he got look at me heartbroken and knowing empirically and epidemiologically that he couldn't play with his friends anymore but still needing to know why, and knowing that I couldn't tell him anything more sophisticated and anything less terrifying than, "So we don't get sick."

The other day he started crying and then screaming, "I hate the sickness! I hate the sickness!" repeating it in a higher and higher register, until he was up even past that piercing birdlike screech that prepubescent boys make whenever trying to sound like lasers or dinosaurs or squealing brakes. Every day I worry that I see another little bit of his capacity for happiness is dying—that the same awkward process of terror that took me from happy little kid to profoundly unhappy teen to scarred adult is even more rapidly at work, and each day another sparkling and joyous little light of childhood winks out in him, replaced by fear as a necessity of life.

I know that there is no plan for us. Conservatives don't want to be taxed or have their businesses lose money, so people are being kicked off unemployment and sent back to work with no test and trace protocols, irregular access to PPE, overwhelmed hospitals and often limited access to any care. We're doing all this as Florida blooms scarlet like paint being spilled into a mold shaped like the state. We're sending the men in the gasoline suits right at the heart of the fire.

It's a cruelly lazy little culling genocide of the working class, a Wall Street gamble that the blow to the labor force won't be more than a blip on the Dow and, a little recession aside, the One Percent will come out ten years later owning an even greater percentage of the United States. To the extent that there is a plan, that's the plan, and whether you land on the dead or the living part of any of those exchanges is more of a Your Problem than a Their Problem.

For now, it's enough to be hermits and hope the rest of Florida goes on strike by going inside and staying there and writing letters to representatives threatening to never come out. Cooking the same things, getting the same exercise in the same places, having the same awkward conversations on VOIP delay, and living every moment outside like we're three drinks in so we’re ready to get belligerent with anyone who is getting too close. Living every moment with some low-level neurasthenia that grows spine-deep and for the rest of our lives sends shuddering disequilibrium at the thought of air that never seems to move, hallways that lengthen without exits, and objects that seem both unavoidable and unclean. It’s fine. We’re all fine, here, now. How are you?

I feel a sudden Git Offa Mah Land thing about my son, a resolute commitment to homeschooling for the foreseeable future and to keeping the gummymint away. It sucks so much. I was so happy to send him to the public school just a few blocks away, instead of the shitty little charter schools nearby, but now that it’s Plague or Parents, he’s got his parents. Between us, he'll have access to 1.5 first-class educations. I still have my grandpa's service weapons from WWII, the last time America was in a war with fascism, when we took the opposing side. I'll empty a couple magazines into anyone who comes onto my property and tries to stop me from teaching my son critical race theory, Howard Zinn, and Leonard Levy's Jefferson and Civil Liberties: The Darker Side. I refuse to turn my back on the heritage of my youth, of watching thousands of hours of MASH, by refusing to wear a mask outside or in fact any time I am doing anything other than drinking gin that I made in a tent.

Outside, records fall and progress rolls on. A governor whose go-to pejorative for opponents of all ages and sexes is very likely still “queef” watches as even the president concedes that a Republican National Convention here would be too lethal, as the state repeatedly sets records for daily deaths, beats out all of Europe in terms of new daily cases, leads the nation in cases per day, then tries to set them again. And then, every day, our governor makes his ahegao-but-for-ethnic-cleansing face and psychotically clangs a bell indicating that Florida just became the 15,000 customer at Leadshoe Larry’s Kicked-in-the-Dick, and it’s time for all us lucky winners to line up and drop our pants.

Florida’s lethality is so tacky that it’s almost camp, but there is no satisfaction in being right about how wrong everything is. Nobody gets a prize for correctly guessing the surplus death toll. All you have to do is look someone else in the eye working in life under Covid.

I’m old now, so I have Humiliating Injury Syndrome (HIS), and somehow in the month between the Super Bowl and the pandemic, I tore a rotator cuff, a labrum, or both, by throwing a (mini!!!) football with friends. After four months, I broke down and went to get an MRI. I skulked down corridors and lurked in a corner of a waiting room, like playing spies with an opponent who was the air. Even the clean and modern fixtures felt miasmic and corrupted, like they were a parking garage in an Alan Pakula film.

Eventually a nurse emerged from an office, crinkled her brown eyes, waved and surprised me by asking after my family by name. She lives three blocks away from me and had hosted me at a party once. Later that day, as my car coasted down the approach to my house, I saw a garage door open and my neighbor’s son walk out on his way to his shift at the same grocery store that I treat emotionally like a Superfund site.

I thought about how much I unconsciously held my breath where they work, and how I unconsciously associate those places with poor choices. The danger of the world outside is so massive that I reflexively need to cordon off the threat into areas of blame and blamelessness. In a moment of crisis, years of conservative rhetorical conditioning in the discourse have taught me to reflexively pathologize those in harm’s way. There is less chaos if someone is at least responsible for something. There is less risk to me, if it turns out someone else’s epidemic is someone else’s fault.

But it is someone else’s fault. And it’s not some poor fucker doomed to sit in a box somewhere and accept paper money and hand metal money back and point at where toilets are, because that’s how he keeps the lights on. It’s not the person consigned to some life-sucking task that, on the best of days, is too humiliating and cruelly impoverished of purpose to ever be a reason why someone should die. It’s not the person around whom you hold your breath because you don’t know where they’ve been. It’s the person and people who put us all in position to suddenly feel like we’re suffocating together.

I hate that I sometimes unconsciously hold my breath around strangers, and I hate that they have heard it. I think of my neighbors, and of the workers on whom we’re dependent, and the permanent uncertain shortness of breath I feel, and I want every moment of their anxiety and mine gathered up and then rained on those who shepherded it into being, those who nurtured it and feasted on it, those who profited from it and were indifferent toward it. Those who consider themselves DUI guys and those who pay to elect them and give them sinecures and who are simply too rich to be arrested for boating under the influence anymore.

I think of how I hold my breath near good people and near vulnerable people in places I am wary of and that we all need to share, and I wonder if we will simply hold our breath for the rest of the year, and if we’ve bargained for standing near each other and holding it for all of the next. And I wish so eagerly that all our suspended futures and the air between us might catch at the throats of those who put us here. That justice for a man like Ron DeSantis might be a permanent and sucking terror: stuck always in an involuntary startled gasp at the sight of responsibility, afraid at the approach of every stranger, incapable of drawing a full and restful breath, and never knowing peace again.

Jeb Lund used to write about politics for Rolling Stone, The Guardian and Gawker, and a bunch of other places, and was the Spectacle of Trump Editor at 50 States of Blue. He and David Roth have a podcast about Hallmark original movies that is mostly funny and exasperated and not unkind, and it's not ultimately about the movies anyway. It's fine and people enjoy it. Don't make it weird. He also has a podcast where he watches every Dennis Quaid movie in a row. That is also completely normal.

Ok here’s me again with a couple more things.

You’ll want to read this in the New York Times today about a forthcoming documentary on ICE. After it was completed the filmmakers were apparently threatened with legal action by the agency over the inclusion of parts that made ICE look even worse than they already look doing literally everything else they do.

Some of the contentious scenes include ICE officers lying to immigrants to gain access to their homes and mocking them after taking them into custody. One shows an officer illegally picking the lock to an apartment building during a raid.

At town hall meetings captured on camera, agency spokesmen reassured the public that the organization’s focus was on arresting and deporting immigrants who had committed serious crimes. But the filmmakers observed numerous occasions in which officers expressed satisfaction after being told by supervisors to arrest as many people as possible, even those without criminal records.

“Start taking collaterals, man,” a supervisor in New York said over a speakerphone to an officer who was making street arrests as the filmmakers listened in. “I don’t care what you do, but bring at least two people,” he said.

Here’s one disgusting detail among many.

They followed Border Patrol tactical agents who took pride in rescuing migrants from deadly dehydration even as the agents acknowledged that their tactics were pushing the migrants further into harm’s way. They showed how the government had at times evaluated the success of its border policies based not only on the number of migrants apprehended, but on the number who died while crossing.

***

source:

https://luke.substack.com/p/all-they-had-to-do-was-the-right?utm_source=Brooklyn+Today&utm_campaign=dd6f63665c-EMAIL_CAMPAIGN_2020_07_28_01_15&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_1ba554d7d5-dd6f63665c-125128182

#long reads #florida #covid #genocidal dystopia #Jeb Lund

[cilldaracailin]

Friends Will Be Friends

And we have reached the last part to this story in the Robyn and Taron series. Thanks so much for all the love and comments! What are Robyn and Taron going to get up to next I wonder????

5

“Even though you’re growing up, you should never stop having fun.”

It was Taron who feel asleep first just as Anna and Hans met each other in the movie and started to sing. Robyn had carefully eased his bottle of beer from his left hand and placed it on the floor beside her, Taron barely getting two mouthfuls before his eyes closed and he nodded off. It didn’t come as a surprise to Robyn that he slept. She knew even with a good night’s sleep the night before he was still suffering with the time difference and jet lag and it had been a busy day for him. She had moved from his shoulder and a little awkwardly slipped under his arm and sat up, letting his body lean into her, making sure he was comfortable against her left shoulder and the bean bag.

As Elsa walked up the mountain singing Let It Go, Rosie who had been fighting the sleep, gave in and joined her sister who had fallen asleep soon after Taron. It was wonderful sight to see all of them resting but now that Rosie and Mari had fallen asleep it was supposed to be her and Taron’s time to sneak out of the tent and have their own sleep over of sorts but as she looked down to Taron, she felt conflicted. Although she was desperate to get to spend some time alone with him, she knew he was back to work bright and early on Tuesday and another hectic schedule of filming would begin for him. He was due to start his stunt work on Thursday too and was just a little anxious about it all. Another clean night’s sleep was exactly what he needed right now and when he was sleeping, Robyn knew his mind wasn’t over thinking every little thing.

Lifting her right hand, she gently ran her index finger down his nose, just like he always did to her before making a feather light trail along his left temple and down his cheek. She continued down his jaw, enjoying the feel of his soft skin which was lightly littered with growing stubble. His role for Eggsy had him clean shaven for the last two weeks and being home he was taking a break from having to shave every day, giving his skin a chance to soothe itself for a day or two. She left another delicate trail down his nose, dipping into the space above his top lip and with a hitch of her breathe, down his soft rosy lips and to his chin. She lifted her hand when Taron’s whole body shifted a little, his head snuggling further into her shoulder, a happy little sigh leaving his lips. She brushed her hand through his hair and down his face again, her fingers dancing over where his dimples were on his left cheek before running back to his forehead and smoothing over his left eyebrow. She let her whole hand rest on his face, her eyes taking in his wonderfully smooth skin before her thumb stroked the darkened skin under his eye. He didn’t look anywhere near as tired compared to when she first met him in Florida but with his swift return to work, the fatigue was starting to show on his face. Letting her fingers glide through his hair, she liked how it was growing out and gave his head a loving scratch.

“You having fun?”

She jumped a little when she heard his voice in a whisper and looking down, his sleepy green eyes were open and staring up at her. She gently tugged his hair before returning to her hand to his cheek, Taron laying back down on her shoulder. “You feel asleep and yes I am. I like doing this and you do this…” She ran her finger down his nose. “To me all the time.”

“That’s ‘cos I am looking for your freckles.”

“Hmmm.” Smiled Robyn as she trailed her index and middle fingers down his nose, lips and chin again, enjoying how his lips pulled up into a smile as she did. “Did I wake you?”

“Well yes but I don’t mind. I would like to be awake if you are going to give me a face massage.”

Robyn laughed quietly. “It’s a good thing your mother is not here to see me doing this to you. She is already highly suspicious of your head massages.” She tapped her finger down the bridge of his nose.

“You are just too good with your hands.” Taron froze and quickly tried to correct his words as he sat up. “I mean because you play piano and guitar and can bake and are good at massages and rubbing my tension away and…Oh shit. Fuck Robyn I don’t mean anything by it. I just mean you have lots of talents that you need to use your hands and fingers for and Jesus fucking Christ Taron. Just stop talking.”

Robyn had to place her hands over to her mouth to keep her laughing from waking Mari and Rosie, enjoying how Taron turned completely scarlet, the red shade deepening right into his neck. She placed her hands on his red cheeks and bent his head down so she could give his forehead a kiss. “You are just too cute for words Taron. Why don’t we go and get some air? I think you might need some. The girls won’t be waking up any time soon.”

Nodding his agreement, Taron crawled out from under the back of the tent, lifting the sheet so Robyn could follow him, bringing the two glass bottles with her. Taron plugged all the fairy lights outs and taking the bottles off her and walked into the kitchen and left them on the sink. “Let’s just go and tell my parents where we are going.”

Robyn followed Taron and they walked into the other sitting room where Tina and Guy were on the couch, watching TV.

“Mari and Rosie are asleep mam.”

“Well that didn’t take them long.” Smiled Tina. “You two off then for the night?”

“We are going to get some air. It was getting a little stuffy in the tent with four of us.” Said Taron. “Just a short walk and then we will come back and head home to mine.”

“Your face is quite red.” Said Tina looking to her son. “It must have been very warm in that tent.”

Robyn saw the growing smirk on Taron’s parents faces but also how Taron’s cheeks were turning red one more. “He had a quick power nap Tina and was snuggled deep under all the duvets. It was just a little too warm for him.”

“Hmm I see. Well just be careful love. It is getting quite late out there. Don’t be too long.”

“We won’t. Be back in a few.”

Taron led the way once more and he took Robyn’s jacket from the coat hooks and gave it to her to put on while he pulled on the navy one he had. Once they were dressed to face the chilly November air, Taron opened the front door for her and she waited for him at the gate while he made sure the door was closed firmly.

“Thanks for the cover up there.” He said to her as they started to walk. “I am sure my mam thinks we were up to all sorts.”

Robyn chuckled. “Just some face massages. So where are we going?” She asked him as he held his arm out for her to link with.

“Wasn’t it your idea to get some fresh air?” He asked her.

“Ok so let’s go this way.” Robyn pulled on his arm and tried to get him to turn around but he held tight and kept her in the direction he had started to walk them in. “I want to go the other way.” She pouted.

“Thought we might go see the ocean.”

“So, let’s go this way.” She agreed picking up her pace a little with longer strides, Taron having to move a little faster to keep up with her. Robyn smiled a little as they walked. “See the ocean. In the dark?”

“There are street lights and it’s a clear night with a full moon.”

“Okie dokie.”

It was a fifteen-minute stroll from Taron’s childhood home to the sea front and Robyn inhaled the cool night air, filled with an ocean breeze. “I love that ocean smell.”

“Just to cross the road and we are there.” Taron walked her down the path a bit more before they came to a pedestrian crossing. “I know it is nearly eleven but you can’t be too sure when crossing the road.”

They looked left and right before stepping off the path and crossed the road and up onto the promenade.

“Wow Taron this is beautiful.” Robyn stopped so she could look out at the wonderful night view of the ocean and stone beach which was in front of her. The light from the moon reflected on the ocean, carefree waves rolling in and the orange of the street lights provided enough light for Robyn to see really well in the darkness of the late evening. “Wish I had of brought my phone to take a picture. Did you bring yours?”

“Didn’t even think about it. We will come back tomorrow and get some photos in the daylight and if you want, I will come down tomorrow evening and take some in the dark for you and send them to you.”

She grinned. “Please. So, can we go down?”

“Onto the beach?”

“Well yeah. You have walked me all this way and expect me not to walk towards the water?”

Taron grinned. “This way.” He walked her down the stone footpath some more and they took a ramp down onto the beach. “It’s not a sand beach.”

“A beach is a beach.” She replied as she unlinked her arm from his and took to a little run, heading straight for the water. “I love any kind of beach.” She said as she turned around to look at him. “Well come on!”

Chuckling Taron took to a run to catch up with Robyn and they stopped as they reached the edge of the water. He looked to Robyn as she stood with her eyes closed. “Whatcha doing?”

“Listening.” She felt him move to stand beside her and she slipped her left hand into his right. “Just close your eyes and listen.”

Doing as Robyn had told him, Taron closed his eyes. He had been on this beach so many times throughout his life and had heard the ocean waves break along the stony shore but for some reason standing and listening to it with Robyn was such a different experience. It almost felt intimate, as if the ocean was putting on a private show just for them and opening one eye, he snuck a look to Robyn who still had her eyes closed.

“I love this sound.” She said. “In Florida, almost every evening I would go down to the beach and sit on the sand and watch the sun set and once the sun had set, I would just lay back on the sand and close my eyes and listen to the waves. I found it almost cleared my mind after a hectic day. Of course, it helped that Florida is always warm so it was easy to just sit there and listen.”

Taron rubbed their encased hands with his left hand, before he pulled on her hand, making her take a few steps backwards up the shore. “Rogue wave. We don’t need to go swimming. That water will be freezing. Let’s move back a bit and lay back and listen.”

Agreeing with him, Robyn followed him back up the beach a few meters and they sat down on the cold stony sand and lay back, moving a bit to get comfortable.

“Perfect. Ocean waves and the stars above us. Don’t fall asleep on me here.” She said as they lay, the left side of her body snug against his right.

“Just rub my nose and I will wake up.” He laughed.

Silence fell between them, the ocean waves, an odd car and a shout from people out on a Saturday night the only noises that could be heard but Robyn drowned everything out except for the ocean.

“Robyn?”

“Hmmm.”

“We need to talk about the media.”

Suddenly the ocean wasn’t so calming to Robyn and she could hear the anger with which the waves hit the stones in its path, the water rushing back into itself, moving anything and everything in its way. She felt Taron move as he sat up, a rush of cold air hitting her side now that his body wasn’t there to shield her.

“I don’t want to start an argument between us.” He added as he sat up, which made Robyn sit up as well and stare at him.

“Well you are on your way to one.” She answered him. “You already know my opinion and feelings on this topic.”

“And you know mine.”

Robyn frowned at him. “And you are definitely itching for another row on this topic Taron.”

“Just hear me out ok? And try your best not to interrupt me.” Taron regretted saying the words as soon as he said them and reached for Robyn’s hands, when he saw her eyes flare a little with defensiveness and anger. “Just please.” He took a breath, remembered the advice his mother had given him and started before she could say anything. “I have never had someone like you in my life before. I have friends who will always stand up for me no matter what and my family believe in everything I do and I know they have my back. If something comes out in the media, sure they read the story but that’s where it stops. They don’t go digging through every social media outlet possible.”

“I don’t dig…” Robyn stopped speaking as Taron looked her with incredibly sad eyes that begged her to listen to him. “Sorry.”

“My family stay away from most of that shit because that is what it is. It is bullshit from idiots who have no fucking clue what my life is like. They feel they can judge me and comment on my life because they have seen one picture of me where I wore something a little too flamboyant or happened to be bringing my sisters for lunch or was kissing my best friend’s cheek after not seeing her for two months. I glance over the comments sometimes and naturally Lyndsey is going to read them, letting me know if anything out of the ordinary has been said but everyone else ignores them and doesn’t read them so thoroughly except you, my wonderful, crazy, stubborn and head strong Robyn. I get tagged in so many posts and while I ignore them, you go out of your way to read every single one and honestly Robyn it frustrates the hell out of me. You shouldn’t have to read any of them and see what everyone is saying. Just because you are associated with me and are my friend, due to circumstances that were totally out of our control, no one has the right to judge you either. I just wish you wouldn’t read them. It kind of scares me a little that you take all of this in your stride Robyn. Like I said, I haven’t met anyone like you. I can only say that I am sorry for what may seem like an over-reaction to you when I get so fucking mad at you but it’s because I love you so very much that it hurts me when arseholes write such shit about us and then you reading it, ugh it makes me go crazy.” Robyn reached over to his hands and linked her fingers with his. “I hate that you have been dragged into it. I hate that they can’t see what I see when I look at you and understand how you have made such an impact on my life.”

“Taron…”

“Please can we try and figure something out Robyn because if I hear that you have read anything else online, I am going to go insane. Like proper heading spinning around like the exorcist shit. I love how strong you are and I adore how you are so protective of me but in my world, it is my job to protect you and I cannot do that if you always insist on reading every little thing that is posted. I know I cannot ask you to stop. I don’t think I could stop you but I need you to try and work with me on this somehow. I don’t know when we are going to see each other again Robyn and I don’t want to have this conversation with you over the phone if another story pops up about us. Please can we come to some sort of compromise on it.”

As Robyn held Taron’s hands in hers, she could not only hear the emotion in his voice and see it in his face as his eyes creased with concern and his forehead frowned with frustration, she could feel his hands shake a little. While she had created intricate plaits in Rosie and Mari’s hair, she had seen Taron and Tina sitting at the table in the dining room talking and just as Tina has spoken to her about the media and how it upset Taron, Robyn was one hundred percent sure, his mam had a word in his ear too. “I am sorry that I get mad at you when you get mad at me. I know I shouldn’t dig into social media but my curiosity gets the better of me and I have to read the posts, stories and comments, the good and the bad. You know it is only five percent that are bad right?”

“I couldn’t care if ninety-five percent were bad. I still hate it when you read them. You told me that first day we actually got to sit down and talk with each other in your garden, that you never googled me, that you didn’t know a lot about me and we had to learn about each other the old-fashioned way. Why now, do you feel the need to google me now?”

“I don’t actually have an answer to that question.” She answered him honestly.

“Ok so let’s try and work on this compromise. From tonight, I am going back to the way I dealt with the media before I met you. Sure, I would read a story in the newspaper or sometimes Lyndsey would point one out online to me but I am not going to delve any deeper into the world of social media. Of course, I will still use my Instagram but I will let Lyndsey filter through the comments. I might have a quick browse but that’s it. If we happen to go to something together again and we get photographed I will read the article, look at the picture and try my hardest not to get pissed off by what is written. When I made the press release back in September, I was so fucking stressed over it all and I know I didn’t have to be but it’s just the way I am. I agree with you when you constantly tell me that our story is so different from all the others printed. It gives us an appease and understanding with the media, but not with the fans.”

“Taron your fans are wonderful and so supportive of you.”

“True but some of them, not so much.”

Robyn looked to his face which was still miserable. “I am sorry that I frustrate you so much with the media Taron. It is never my intention but you know I am so used to just to dealing with shit by myself and I know…” She finished her sentence quickly when Taron opened his mouth to interrupt. “I know I shouldn’t do that and I know I have you to talk to but the things I want to talk to you about make you angry at me like reading the twitter comments so it’s a catch twenty-two in some ways which is not me putting any blame your way. I never want to make you upset over all of this. It’s a horrible part of my personality, needing to prove people wrong and I guess, by reading the comments and knowing that they are complete bollocks, I am doing just that to fulfil the part of me that needs to be somewhat in control of the situation and know that I am showing all those who think they can write such disgusting stuff about us that it doesn’t bother me and I won���t react to it.” Robyn let go of his hands and kneeling up to her full height, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “I agree with the compromise but you also can’t get mad at me any more for reading a comment or two. This is something that is always going be an issue with us and we have to try and work our way around it.”

Taron slowly inched his arms around Robyn’s back. He was trying not to, to keep the conversation as serious as he could without reaching for the comfort he ached from her and once her arms touched him, he melted into her body. “Please can you not read any?” He whispered into her hair on her shoulder.

“I can’t make that promise for you Taron.”

“Robyn…” He lifted his head to look at her.

“I can’t but I don’t want to have an argument with you over the media again Taron. So, let’s compromise. I will not go out of my way to google anything or hit a link that has our names on it but I will not stay away from my own social media platforms and if there is something on my feed relating to you, I am going to read it because it is there and possibility the comments underneath and not because I purposely went looking for it and I will continue to comment on your Instagram pictures but you can’t keep me in a bubble with regards to the media. Don’t you think we have already been through what could be the worst of it? They know about how we met, they know about the CPR and we have been seen out together in public at an event you attended. If I choose to read something, then that is my choice and you cannot blow up at me every time I read something because then I get mad at you and we just go back and forth with angry words and someday something may be said, that we may not be able to take back Taron. So, while I agree not to read everything and talk to you about the things I do read, you have to promise me that you are not going to get frustrated with me for doing so.”

“You won’t go looking stuff up and let me try to keep you in a little bubble?”

“I won’t and I will try not to burst the bubble and you won’t get angry at me for being my stubborn old self and remember that sometimes I forgot I have others to lean on.”

“I am sorry Robyn.” Taron buried his head into her shoulder. It was a conversation he was dreading to have with her but when he thought it was going to be a fiery one, it was civilised, both listening to each other and he appreciated so much how she was finally starting to understand how distressed it made him.

“You don’t have to be sorry Taron. This is how a relationship works. Open and honest communication and if me and you cannot be honest with each other after what we have been through, then there is no hope for us. Thank you for talking to me about this. I wanted to say something but didn’t know how to breach the subject.”

“Thought you said we needed to be honest with each other as well as open with our thoughts and feelings.”

“Guess you are the bigger person than me this time. You know I need a little coaxing sometimes but please remember how compromise works ok? I know you want to protect me within an inch of my life form your world, but don’t forget, I have already stepped into your world and so far, I think I am doing a pretty good fucking job.”

Taron chucked as he finally knelt up straight and gave his whole heart to the hug. “You have been amazing. Elton still won’t stop raving about you.”

Robyn smiled into his neck. “That was such a mind blowing twenty-four hours.”

“This weekend was supposed to be just as good and look at it.”

“What do you mean look at it. It looks pretty perfect from where I am standing, well kneeling on the beach.”

“Seriously? Even after this?”

Robyn moved a little back from him. “This weekend has been perfect. I would rather have the tough conversation Taron and talk to you about how we are both feeling then keep the emotions in.”

“Are you broken?” He asked as he moved some of her chalked coloured hair away from her face as a light breeze swirled through it.

“Broken?”

“When I met you were queen of keeping your emotions in.”

“Yeah I met this actor, you might know him. He played Elton John in some little film last year. Well he gave me some good advice while we sat together on the floor of a 7/11 in Florida. It has kind of stuck with me since.”

Grinning, Taron wrapped Robyn up in a squishy hug, no more words spoken between then for a full minute as they got a good tight cuddle together. Taron felt a little shiver run through Robyn. “We should head back. It is getting late and cold out here.”

Agreeing, Robyn took Taron’s hands once he had stood up and he pulled her to her feet. “I really like this beach. I think I will have to come back in the summer and actually have a proper beach day with a picnic and a swim.”

“I think that would be fun. Maybe your freckles will come back.”

Robyn chuckled as they walked along the shore, Taron nearest the water with his arm around her shoulders. “You are obsessed. I still have lots of freckles in other places.”

“Other places?” Giggled Taron. “Can I see them? I mean you did promise to show me your tan lines at Elton’s but we never quite got there.” He laughed some more as she gently pushed him on his side. He stepped into a small wave that slowly came his way and looking at Robyn who was three steps ahead of him, kicked his foot so a little bit of water from the ocean speckled her jeans. Robyn stopped and turned to look at him.

“Sometimes I wonder who is the younger sibling in your family.” She said smiling.

“It is the time and place now?” He asked her.

“Time and place for what?”

“For this!” As another wave rushed towards him, he gave it a long swipe with his shoe again and this time a lot more water sprayed Robyn.

“Taron! That is a whole different ball game compared to flour.” Robyn held her hands up as he stood at the water’s edge. “Let’s have a pillow fight or something instead back at yours.” She jumped as he kicked more water her way, her jeans now covered in little wet circular spots. “Taron…”

“I don’t want a pillow fight.” He said watched as another wave rolled in. “I want to do this!” Taron took a step into the ocean, ignoring how the cold water filled his converse and bending down with bigger swipe then before and using his two hands, splashed Robyn with chilly sea water, drenching her left leg completely.

The cold water was horrid against her skin and as the wet fabric of her jeans clung to her, she watched as Taron started to laugh. “Really? I love the ocean Taron but not in November and definitely not the Atlantic Ocean in November.”

“My foot slipped.” He said shrugging his shoulders walking towards her, his two shoes and sleeves of his coat completely soaked through.

“Oh, right your foot slipped. That is what you are using as your excuse.” She said enjoying the cute little innocent look on his face as he got closer to her.

“Yep.”

“Ok then.”

“However, I am afraid I don’t have an excuse for this.”  

Taron took one long stride towards Robyn and slipping behind her, swung his right arm tightly around her waist and lifted her off the beach on one quick strong fluid motion, slipping his left arm under her knees and walked straight for the water, Robyn wriggling under his arms when she realised what he was doing and where he was walking to.

“Taron no! Taron! Taron! No!” She laughed as he walked into the shallow waves. “Taron seriously. This water is going to be freezing.”

“Oh I know that chicken. I am standing in it.” Taron waded in a little deeper into the water so it was up past his ankles and it was colder than ice water.

“Taron don’t you dare drop me.” Robyn draped her arms around his neck and shoulders and held tight onto him and kept her legs up but the man holding her was extremely strong and as he kept informing her throughout the day, back to his full strength and as he held her snug against his chest, he was still walking straight into the dark water. “Taron what are you doing?”

“Walking.”

“In the wrong direction.” Complained Robyn. “Taron lets turn around. Your legs are going to get really wet and we have to walk back and we both have work next week and you are going to get sick and you can’t get sick and Jesus Christ that’s cold!” Taron continued walking and once he was thigh high in the water, Robyn feet and bum were starting to hit the top of the ocean as the waves increased in height and she started to squirm more in his arms. “Ok so now we turn around right?” She asked with hope in her voice. “Taron, come on rocketman.” Robyn couldn’t lift her legs any more and the waves were coming a lot higher now, the water was lapping against her and the further Taron walked with her into the ocean, the colder it became.

Once the water went past his waist, his whole-body shivering with the cold, Taron stopped. “So, you know how to swim right?” He asked smiling when Robyn said yes. “Great! Enjoy your swim!” Bending his knees and turning his body sideways, Taron swung Robyn in one great swoop and let her go, his arms moving completely from her body so she went straight into the ocean, her whole body sinking into the dark water. He chuckled when he heard Robyn properly scream as he threw her and was in a full body laugh when she rose from the water, her hands running through her hair, coloured water dripping from her hair as the chalk washed out, her whole body shaking almost like a dog.

“Jesus fucking Christ that is fucking cold.” Robyn jumped up and down in chest deep water as her whole body turned to ice, the waves crashing into her back. “Fucking bollocks. Cold.” She looked to Taron who was still laughing at her. “You.” She growled at him. “Are still half dry.” With one quick dive, Robyn swam under the water and as it was dark she used Taron’s legs to orientate herself and once she knew she was behind him, jumped out of the water and up onto his back and before he could grab her legs, she threw her weight to the left and as a large wave rolled past them, it caused Taron to over balance and fall straight into the water, Robyn letting go of his body once they were both submerged under the waves.

Robyn surfaced before Taron did but stayed hunched down in the ocean, as the cold November air was chillier than the water and laughed as Taron shot out of the water just like she had, his hands wiping water from his hair and face.

“Fuck it’s cold. Fuck fuck fuck!” It was an idea that just came to him and he knew it was a ridiculously dumb and stupid one, going for a swim in November in the ocean but the opportunity was just too good to miss and he owed Robyn a payback for the flour and sugar fight in her kitchen. As he carried her into the water, there was an immense contrast in temperature as her body was scalding hot against his chest while his legs were shaking with the cold as he trudged into the freezing cold ocean.

“You are a fucking tosspot.” She laughed to him as she splashed water at him. “This was such a terrible idea.” She turned her own back as water was tossed back in her direction.

“Oh I know.” Agreed Taron as he followed Robyn’s stance and dipping his body into the water so the waves lapped against his chin. “It’s cold.”

“No shit sherlock. You do realise you are going to be so sick after this?”

“You too.”

“Yeah but I don’t have the responsibility of a multi-million movie resting on my shoulders.”

“We won’t be in here too long.”

“We shouldn’t be in here at all Taron.” She felt some water splash her way and without hesitation she dove under the water again and swam around and past him and up behind his back again, wrapping her arms around his neck once her head was above the water. “Such a bad idea.” She said, smiling as Taron started to move backwards and thread water once he couldn’t touch the stones under his shoes any more.

“You definitely can swim?”

“You know I have a diploma in dolphin therapy right.”

“Good. I won’t go too far.” Taron took to swim a little, Robyn still wrapped around his neck and stopped when he had moved a few meters.

“This is really terrible idea. Don’t go any further.” Said Robyn as she let him go and swam around to thread water in front of him. “Not because we can’t swim but it is dark and this water is fucking cold and we are not staying in here longer than thirty seconds.”

“Yes chicken.” He replied grinning at her, splashing water at her face.

“You are going to be in so much trouble when you go home.” She chuckled, enjoying how the moonlight reflected in his eyes and water droplets slowly trickled down his face from his hair, some of them blue from the hair chalk she had put in his hair. “We have to go back to your childhood home to get our stuff before we go back to yours and when she sees what you have done, well I can’t wait for the tongue lashing you are going to get.”

Taron’s face quickly changed when realisation set in. “Oh shit.”

“Oh, shit indeed and we had better get out of here. Your lips are turning blue.” She reached out of the water and gently touched his cold lips. As much as Robyn had enjoyed the sudden dip in the ocean and playfulness from Taron, she was absolutely freezing cold and could see that Taron was too. “Race you!” She called putting her hands on his shoulders and with a hard push, dunked him under the water with surprise before she started to swim the few meters back to shore, hearing Taron splash behind her as he tried to catch up with her. Robyn reached the shallow water before he did and standing up, she shivered from head to toe as the beach breeze hit her, a breeze she hadn’t noticed before. The small stones of the shore crunched under her sopping converse as she walked up onto the beach. Once out of the sea water she turned to look at Taron as he stood up out of the water. The cold rushed out of her body as a current of heat ran through her blood as she watched him saunter out of the water, drops of sea water dripping down his face. It was a clichéd vision from every romantic movie she had ever imagined in her head and she mentally told her mind to stop thinking inappropriate thoughts and her heart to resume its normal rhythm. Even though she knew she was chilled to the bone, she couldn’t feel it as she watched him and as he took the few steps to get closer to her, his lips were pulled up in a wonderful smile.

“Did I do a good James Bond impression?” He asked her grinning.

Robyn pretended to be thinking over his question when in reality she was trying to find her voice and hoped the silence conveyed that. “Didn’t he have a lot less clothes on?” She asked regretting the question as soon as she said it.

“Well I can work on that.” He said as he started to take his jacket off but Robyn stopped him.

“I know common sense tells us to take the wet clothes off but we gotta get back to yours before we even take something off.”

“I thought I needed to have less clothes on?” He replied with a smirk on his face.

“Believe me, I want to get you out of those clothes.” Inside she enjoyed how his eyes changed to a much darker colour and his whole posture stood up straighter but she had to ignore every tingle in her body and explain herself. “I really didn’t mean it like… Taron stop! Taron!”

He had closed the space between them and wrapped his arms around her from behind. “I love it when you get embarrassed like that and I understand what you mean. No clothes coming off until we can shower.”

When Taron hugged Robyn, she normally soaked up the warmth he provided her but now she was being squished against wet and damp clothes and as he hugged her, he was squeezing the sea water from the clothes onto the stony beach. “So, this was a terrible idea.”

“Oh, you think?” Robyn stepped away from him and he could see him visibly shivering in front of her. “We need to go and get back to your parents as quick as we can and then back to yours and into a shower. You are frozen.”

“As are you.” He watched as Robyn wrung her hair out. “Though at Elton’s I am sure I heard you say that you were used to the cold and wet. That it was pre-requisite to be born Irish.”

Robyn grabbed his hand and started to pull him up the beach. “I don’t think being cold and wet as a result of being thrown in the Atlantic Ocean counts. Your hands as so cold Taron. They are normally so warm.”

As they walked back up the ramp, Taron was starting to feel his teeth clatter with the cold and he could feel endless shivers running through him. Once on the footpath, he curled Robyn into him, with his arm around her shoulders and was glad to feel hers creep around his waist. He was hoping to steal some of her body heat to try and warm himself up but she was just as frozen as he was. The biting wind from the beach was ripping through him and he quickened their pace wanting to make the return trip back to his parent’s house in five minutes rather than the fifteen they had taken to stroll to the beach. He could hear Robyn’s converse squeaking with the wetness and the tremors that flowed through her whole body as he grasped her close to him. Every now and again an icy water droplet dripped from his hair and down the back of his neck and it was extremely uncomfortable. They reached the front door of the house within the five minutes and Taron looked to Robyn as she waited for him to open the door.

“Yeah I only brought you with me. I don’t have a key.” He stepped away from her and walked over to the window of the sitting room where they had left Tina and Guy watching TV. He lightly rapped on the window, not wanting to ring the door bell and wake up his sisters. He hurried back to Robyn and wrapped both arms around her again. Although they were both ice cold, their body temperatures were the same after being in the same water together and could gain a little heat from each other.

“Hey you two. Thought you were just going for a… Jesus Christ Taron!” Tina had wondered why her son and his guest had decided to take a late night stroll but figured they needed the time to talk to each other. She had hoped her separate pep talks had helped them to sort out their thoughts before they confronted each other about their individual opinions on the media. When she opened door to let them back in, she was a bit concerned with how the atmosphere between them would be but she had never in her wildest dreams could have imaged the scene that met her once she opened the door. Taron and Robyn completely drenched through and shivering in the night air. “What happened? Are you both ok? Why are you all wet? I did try to call you but I realised you left your phone here and then I used your phone to call Robyn’s but her phone was left here too and I just don’t understand why you have a phone if you never bring it with you when you go places.”

“Mam do you think you could let us in please?” Asked Taron as he still stood outside with Robyn, both their bodies convulsing with the cold and as much as he loved his mother, it wasn’t the time for her to stand staring at them with her mouth open in shock.

“Oh right. Yeah come inside.” The blast of heat that hit them was wonderful as they stepped over the threshold of the front door but it also made them both realise how bitter cold they actually were.

“I will get some towels.” Taron left Robyn’s side and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

“Robyn?” Tina turned to look at her. “What on earth? Why are you two all wet?”

“Well we had a run in with the ocean.” She could see the frown on her face.

“Did my son do this?” She asked as Taron came running back down the stairs with two large fluffy towels in his arms.

“Well kind of.” Answered Robyn as she shrugged her wet coat off, struggling to get it off her arms, Taron helping her to pull it down.

“Kind of?” Asked Tina as she watched the two start to take off some of their wet clothes, Robyn now helping Taron to get his hands out of his sleeves of his coat that were stuck on his wrists.

“Taron David Egerton!” Tina spun to look at him as he started to pull his hoodie off, taking his t-shirt with it. “You put her in the ocean? In November?”

Robyn watched at Taron struggled to get his hoodie off his head, getting stuck inside. The wet material was much harder to pull off in a fluid swift motion. She stepped over to him. “Hey relax, you’re a bit stuck.” She pulled the hoodie back down his chest. “Arms first. Then head.” She held onto each sleeve cuff and with a bit of pulling and manoeuvring, Taron got his arms out of his jumper and was able to pull it over his head.

“Thank you. Need some help?”

“Nah I got it.” With a much smoother movement than he had, Robyn got her jumper off and took the towel Taron gave her, swinging it around her shoulders, while Taron tugged his t-shirt off before wrapping the other towel around his body.

“Right I need an explanation. Now Taron.”

“In short, I threw her in the ocean.”

“Taron!” Tina’s voice had an edge to it. “It is about five degrees outside. You are both going to get pneumonia. Why on earth would you do such a thing?”

“Tina, it’s ok.”

“Robyn it is absolutely not ok. I will not have my grown son doing such childish and dangerous things. The ocean Taron? It is not only freezing cold outside but one of you could have been hurt or drifted out to sea and it is pitch black outside.”

“Tina…”

“No Robyn. I will not let you try and make excuses for him with this.”

“There is no excuse mam. We sat on the beach and had a chat about the media, started to walk back and I picked her up and threw her in the ocean.”

Tina looked to Robyn after Taron had given her the simplest of explanations as to why they were looked like they had been caught in a terrible rain shower. “That is exactly what happened.” She agreed, stepping a little closer to Taron. Although they were both cold and wet, as they had walked back to his parents, the side of her body that was tucked into his wasn’t as exposed to the elements of the late-night weather and was slowly becoming a little warmer, so she craved any kind of heat he could give her and as he hugged her outside, she felt a little snug in his arms. Taron felt her inch closer to him and opening his arms, wrapped his arm around her right shoulder, encasing her into his towel too.

Tina stood with her hands on her hips and stared at her son who was avoiding her eyes, watching as he kept his whole attention on the woman he held close to him. She had seen how taken Taron was by Robyn, how his lips pulled up in a shy smile with intimate laughs they shared, his eyes never leaving her during the day, even more so when Robyn wasn’t looking his way. They moved together and around each other without even realising how in sync their bodies were with each other and when she walked in on Robyn giving her son a wonderfully close and private head massage, it was a little insight to what he got up to at her home, seeing for herself how this young woman cared for her son. It made her heart warm to see someone looking after her son with such delicate affection and pure love and as she watched Robyn carefully re-arrange their position so he was wrapped in her towel too, her anger faded and her heart was filled with so much joy and happiness for Taron. She knew and it was obvious without a doubt that Taron loved Robyn in every way possible but it was also easy to see that even though she hadn’t admitted it to herself, Robyn felt the exact same way as her son and Tina was more than happy for this blossoming relationship to carry on blooming.

She sighed and stepped closer to the two. “You both need to get back to Taron’s and shower and get something hot into you. I am glad my daughters are asleep because they absolutely idolise you Robyn and if they heard that you were thrown in the ocean, they would be running to do it too. You are both adults so I cannot chastise you too much and I have heard about the pranks that happened at your house so I shouldn’t be too surprised but I am still slightly mad Taron. It was dangerous what you did even with someone as responsible as Robyn and I am glad she was there again as you got yourself into and out of another tricky situation. You are lucky you are my only son and I love you and she is the woman who saved your life and I love her too.”

Robyn felt Taron’s hand tighten on her shoulder and she slipped hers around and onto the cold skin of his waist above his jeans.

“Grab your stuff and go home and shower. You are both going to catch your death and Taron, save the swimming for when the weather is warmer or you are at a swimming pool and do not tell Rosie and Mari what you did.”

“Sure mam. Sorry.”

“Sorry Tina.”

“You don’t have to say sorry to me and Robyn I definitely don’t need an apology from you. Let’s just not have a repeat of this but if you do, don’t let me know alright?” Tina moved closer to her son and placed her hands on his cold cheeks. “I already nearly lost you once, I don’t want it to happen again.”

Guilt flooded every part of Taron and he dropped his hand from Robyn’s shoulder and pulled him mam close for a tight hug, this towel falling from his shoulders onto the floor. Tina could immediately feel how cold he was and rubbed his back up and down with her hands, trying to warm him up. “I don’t one which of you is a worse influence for the other.” She smiled turning her head to look at Robyn. “At least tell me you have worked something out to come to a compromise for the media and you didn’t just throw her in because she had a better argument then you.”

Taron laughed a little as he gave his mam a kiss on her cheek and stepped back. “We have worked something out.” He gladly accepted the towel that Robyn covered his shoulder’s back up with, missing the heat his mam was trying to rub back into him.

“I am glad to hear that now get out of here and go home. Robyn…” Tina took a step to her and gave her a hug. “I know you put up with a lot from him but thank you for taking such good care of him too.”

“He makes me smile.” Robyn simply replied.

“Yes he does.”

“We had a laugh Tina and I will make sure to look after him and get him warmed up.” Robyn gave Tina a squeeze.

“I know he is in good hands.”

“And we can stop talking about me now and we really should go. I don’t know about Robyn but I am starting to get colder.”

“Frozen.” She answered him, smiling.

As they gathered their belongings and threw them into Robyn’s suitcase, Tina went upstairs to Taron’s old room and got them something dry to wear and came back downstairs with two of his jumpers, giving one to each of them. Taron almost greedily threw his on, sighing into the dry soft material he pulled it down over his head and down his chest. It felt wonderful to have something dry on his skin. Tina frowned as Robyn started to pull her t-shirt off while facing them but when she saw the look on Taron’s mam’s face, turned around so her back was to them and took her t-shirt off, slipping her arms into the blue hoodie before she pulled it over her shoulders and zipped it up. She returned Taron’s grin when she turned, knowing what it was for and picked up her wet shirt.

“Right everything in the car?” She asked him.

“Yep.”

“Thanks for a lovely day Tina. I had a brilliant time. Those girls are so wonderful and you already know what I think about your son. I will come back tomorrow to say goodbye to you all.”

With more hugs and goodbyes to Tina and Guy, Taron and Robyn were finally in his car making the journey back to his home, the heat on full blast in the car. Once inside, they both ran towards the bedrooms, Taron going to his room to his en suite, Robyn taking the bathroom both agreeing to take as long as they needed to warm up, Robyn making sure Taron knew to heat the water up slowly rather than stepping into a scalding shower.

The water was delightful on Taron’s cold skin and he let it run fully over his head and down his back, just standing under the stream enjoying how it heated his chilled body up. As he stood, he used the time to think about the day and how he agreed with Robyn that it had been absolutely perfect, even the conversation on the beach. Even more so the swim afterwards. He had absolutely no hesitation as he picked Robyn up and walked into the ocean and even though she protested, she giggled as he carried her into the water and had played along with him in the water as she always did. He loved that about Robyn. That he could just spontaneously do something so ridiculous without a second thought and she enjoyed it as much as he did, even getting her own back by pulling him under the water. He definitely wanted to take her up on her offer of coming back to have a picnic and a swim in the summer time. He smiled to himself as he turned around in the shower, running his hands through his hair. It was so nice to be able to see Robyn again so soon after Elton’s party and he tried not to think about the next time he would see her because it wasn’t set in stone and they had briefly spoke about trying to meet over their Christmas break as they both had time off. Turning around again so the water splashed on his lower back, he brushed those thoughts aside and instead, focused of thinking of a plan that would get Robyn sleeping with him in his bed without it being too obvious that he really wanted her there. Although he had enjoyed spending the day with his family, it was his time with Robyn that he cherished the most and he wanted to try and get as many cuddles in as he could before she went home, trying to ignore how each cuddle drove his love for her deeper into his heart and soul.

Robyn slipped the blue hoodie that Tina had given her back on and over her white tank top. She had another jumper with her, but preferred the cosy feel and oversize of Taron’s hoodies. The shower had been wonderful and she felt warm and snug now that she was dry and not cold any more. It had been a day of adventures and so much more then she thought it was going to be. She had felt so at home in Taron’s flat and loved spending time with his sisters. She finally got a taste of what it felt like to live in a house full of activity and it was wonderful. Robyn never felt like she missed out being an only child but it was nice to get a chance to be in such a whirlwind of activity and she loved getting stuck in with Taron’s sisters. However, the time she got to spend alone with him was her favourite part of the weekend so far and even though she could have murdered him at the time for their sudden swim, now as she dried her hair, she grinned. Taron and her had a knack for re-creating those cringey fluffy romantic movie moments and their late-night swim was just another moment of wonderful cold memories for her. It was when Taron was playful that she found her heart racing and beating with an unconditional love and affection for him. She was glad the water was so cold; it stopped her cheeks from blushing because swimming with Taron fully clothed in the cold Atlantic Ocean was such a private and intimate experience for them. Even though she enjoyed their late-night swim, it was when he was asleep against her that had definitely been her favourite part of the weekend so far and not just because she got to stroke and caress his beautiful face as he slept. When she originally met Taron, she had taken care of him and it was she liked to do for him and enjoyed how she still could, Taron letting her do so. She was hoping to convince him for another squishy cuddle in her arms once they were settled on the couch in a while but was sure he wouldn’t refuse especially if she threw in the option of another head massage. It was her absolute favourite thing to do for him because it was the ultimate source of relaxation for him and she wanted him to feel relaxed especially when his filming schedule was so full on for him next week.

Finally getting the last front piece of her hair dry, Robyn put the dryer down and ran a brush through her hair. When she left the shower, she could still hear Taron’s running and as she left the guest room, the water was still going. Her shower had taken her just over five minutes and now that she was dry and dressed, she made her way to the kitchen with her wet clothes to make something hot for them to drink and have it ready for Taron for when he was all warm and toasty and she had the perfect drink in mind.

She was just squirting the cream into the cup when Taron padded into the kitchen, wearing some blue check pj pants and a white t-shirt, carrying all of his wet clothes.

“Seriously, I thought we have already had a conversation about matching outfits.” Robyn stopped squirting the cream into the cup and looked down to her own blue check bottoms and white top. “Blue is my colour Taron.”

“So, I am not allowed to wear blue?” He asked grinning as he bent down to put his clothes in the washing machine, where he noticed that Robyn had put hers too, just as he had asked her to do in the car on the way to his house. He quickly switched it on and stood back beside Robyn, pulling the hood of his jumper up over her freshly washed hair.

“No. Blue is my colour. It matches my eyes. You can have every other colour but I like the bottoms though. I don’t think I have seen you wear pj’s before.” She sprayed some cream into the second cup, leaving the hood of the jumper pulled up on her head.

“I like to be cosy and being in my own home with a wardrobe of clothes, I figured it was best choice after being so cold and wet.” He dipped his finger in the cream in the cup.

“I love them.”

“And my hoodies it seems.”

“Your mam gave it to me.” She picked up the cheese grater she had found after routing through his presses and carefully grated a small square of chocolate evenly over the top of the cream in each cup. “And it matches my eyes so I can wear it.” She winked at him and turned around to put the grater in the sink. “For you.” Once back at the counter, she pushed the cup towards him. “Something to help warm you up and I want you to take these too.” She pushed two white tablets to him. “Some paracetamol, just to keep that oncoming temperature and cold away.” She slid a glass of water beside the cup.

“You have some too?”

“Yep.” Robyn picked up her own two tablets and quickly took them with her own glass of water. “And I waited for you to see that I took them because I knew you would ask me.”

Grinning Taron took his own too. “And what looks so delicious in this cup?”

“Hot chocolate.”

“I don’t think I have hot chocolate in my house Robyn.”

“No you don’t but I had some chocolate in my case that we were meant to use during our sleep over, so I made some from it with the milk from your fridge. I thought it would be more of a treat and cuter way to warm up rather than boring tea or coffee.”

Taron grinned as he wrapped his hands around the cup and bringing it to his lips, took a sip, closing his eyes as he tasted the smooth chocolatey drink, the hot liquid helping to further warm his body up. He licked some cream from his top lip. “Hmm that is not some shop bought hot chocolate. Delicious.”

Robyn smiled and reached over and rubbed some cream away that he missed from the left corner of his top lip. “Nice way to warm up.” She agreed taking a drink from her own cup. “And made with Cadbury’s chocolate. First time actually but figured chocolate is chocolate.”

“This is wonderful. Thanks Robyn.”

“You are very welcome.”

“Want to go and watch some TV?” He asked. “I am ready for some chill out time. It has been a busy day.”

“I would love to do that.” Robyn lifted her cup and headed for the couch.

“Let’s go to my room and just lay down. I know this is going to put me right to sleep and we both know I cannot sleep on a couch.”

Robyn stopped walking and turned to him and smiled. “Is this your sneaky way of getting me into your bed for the night?”

“Maybe? Is it working?” Taron concentrated on taking another drink of the hot drink, rather than looking at Robyn. “Was kind of hoping for another head massage.” He laughed.

“And you deserve one?” Robyn asked. “After dropping me in the sea?”

“I helped you build a tent and it is my birthday weekend.” He tested enjoying the smile that grew on her lips. “And you love me?” He added. “And you go home tomorrow and I go back to New York on Monday and it will be a long time before we see each other again and only you can get me to sleep so soundly.”

“And you keep adding more and’s and we will be here all night instead of watching TV and keeping warm and cosy.” Without another word, Robyn walked away from him and towards his bedroom. “So are you coming or going to stay here by yourself.”

Robyn headed towards his bedroom chuckling. She was kind of hoping he would suggest a sleep over in his room and she knew he was going to try and convince her somehow to sleep in his bed and it really didn’t take much convincing on his part. It just seemed the right decision to make the night before, to sleep in separate rooms, Robyn using his guest room but she struggled to sleep. It was such a strange situation for her because at home without him she slept fine but knowing he was only two doors away, she found it difficult to shut her mind off and not think about him and now that they were going to be in the same bedroom, she knew she could definitely find a way to sleep tonight and persuade Taron to settle in for a cuddle.

She could hear Taron closing off the his flat for the night once she walked in the door of his room she could see the throw she had given him on his bed. She was happy to take up the left side of his bed and slipped under the duvet cover, hugging her warm cup to her, enjoying how she heard him thumb down the hallway.

“You spill that drink Taron; I have no more chocolate to make another one!” She shouted to him, and heard another thumb of footsteps, the sound getting fainter, before it picked up again but wasn’t as loud or heavy sounding.

“I forgot my cup.” He said as he walked into the room. “Don’t you look all cute settled in my bed in my room.”

“And you got your way once more.”

Taron placed his cup on the locker beside the bed and left the room for two minutes to make sure the rest of his home was closed up for the night and once in his room, turned off his main light, flicking the switch on his bedside lamp. He lifted his new throw and duvet up and climbed into the bed, getting himself settled against his pillows, before picking his cup up. “This hot chocolate is so good Robyn.” He turned the television on and snuggled a little back into his pillows.

“It is.” She agreed. “I’ve had such a great day Taron. Thank you for letting me be myself with your family.”

Taron chuckled. “They all loved you Robyn. I don’t think Rosie and Mari will ever stop talking about today. You are definitely their favourite person at the moment.”

“You will always be their favourite person. They wouldn’t stop talking about you as I did their hair. They idolise you.” She moved over on the bed, so she could lean into him a little, Taron quickly accepting her cuddle, his left arm wrapping around her shoulder, pulling the hood down from her head on his way around, which she still had up. “They love you so very much.”

Smiling Taron drank some more of his drink. “Thanks for accepting my mam’s invite. I’ve had a wonderful day. I love making new memories with you. I had such a great birthday weekend. We are also the same age now.”

“I am still older than you.” She answered kicking his foot with hers under the covers. “Don’t forget that. You always have to listen to your elders.” She enjoyed the laugh she heard from his and the kick he returned.

Once they had finished their drinks, Robyn rid herself of the hoodie she was wearing, feeling a little too warm as she lay against Taron and under the duvet and the throw he had spread over them. Taron snuggled further down into his bed, taking Robyn with him so they were both laying down. He had his arm wrapped around her shoulders but he felt Robyn wriggle out from under him and sit up a little, his arm now by her side. She lifted her own right arm and slipped it in behind his neck and giving his right shoulder a little squeeze, guided him into her. “Tables have turned. Your turn for a snuggle. It’s your birthday weekend.”

Taron didn’t need further encouragement and nuzzled a little further into Robyn, resting his right arm across her stomach, letting a full satisfied sigh slip through him. He could already feel sleep calling his name and closing his eyes, he listened to the steady beat of Robyn’s heart under his ear, enjoying how she was already scratching head with her right hand, while her the fingers of her left hand drew lazy circles around his right arm. His conversation with his mam was in the back of his mind and deep down he knew this was dangerous territory he was currently lying in but it felt too comfortable and cosy to move from and as he became more relaxed in Robyn’s arms, he enjoyed how she burrowed a little further down the bed, cuddling him a little closer to her, placing a kiss on his head. Even though he realised he was falling further down the rabbit hole every time he saw Robyn, he was fully prepared for the fall and buried his head deeper into the wonderful warm body under him, enjoying how Robyn nuzzled him even closer to her. After how disastrous his journey home for the weekend was, it was worth every frustration for him and he tried to etch every feeling he had into his memory book, ready to pull them out when he needed them once he was back at work next week. A satisfied sigh left his lips and Robyn applied a little more pressure to the kneading of her fingers in his hair and quickly found himself being lulled into a wonderful deep sleep, trying not to think about how long it would be before he got to do this again with the woman who held him so close in her arms.

#Taron Egerton #Taron Egerton Fanfiction #Taron Egerton Fanfic #Taron Fanfic #Family #friendship #Love #Messing #Late Night Swim #Cuddles #Hot Chocolate #Serious Conversations #Compromise #Robyn and Taron

[artemismoon12writes]

Title: The Difference Between Hanging Out and a Date is Flowers

Daltonfic Big Bang; Week 9, Day 3; Julian Larson/? Julian is forced to go to the Valentine’s Day Fair, despite last year’s sparking a whole lot of horror for him. Can’t he just have one good day? 

---

The Valentines Fair was huge this year; so huge they’d teamed up with Dobry Hall and just rented a fairground outside of town. Julian had planned to just stay in his room all day, given what happened last year. Murdoch refused, telling him he couldn’t have any special privileges when everyone else was out helping with the event.

So instead, he was there… and doing nothing to help because fuck his fellow Stuarts. They’d been following him all week, babying him like this was supposed to help him out emotionally or something. He knew he had baggage, but that was his own business. Let him just ignore these dramatic boys and try, in vain, to have a good day.

Between Logan pretending he’d had feelings for him all along, Sebastian reappearing to say ‘le fuck your healing process’, and whatever bullshit Derek hadn’t grown out of; he was planning to just avoid anyone he knew. Maybe he’d find some of the Day students. Wait, no, Riley Paige would get him to help with something. Fuck; maybe he could find one of Royal’s booths and just chill with Merril. It was almost enough to make him give up on boys altogether; shit, girls were so much less dramatic than these assholes he lived with.

He was looking for Merril’s booth (she’d texted him a pile of apple and pear tarts, so surely he could just follow the smell?) when he saw a short girl chasing Dwight Houston and Bancroft’s sister through the tents, yelling something about rocks. They looked frantic, escaping through a hole in a Hanover tent while she slipped on some of the half-frozen grass; still frosty in the February sun. That sucks… he should do something.

“Hey, need help?” He asked, walking up cautiously; she could be a fan after all. “You took quite the dive there.”

“No, I got it.” She sighed, standing up and brushing herself off. Her hands were red, but not skinned despite the fall. “I just suck at walking I guess.”

“I couldn’t help but notice you trying to kill Houston and Bancroft. Anything those two idiots do to annoy you?” Julian asked, genuinely curious. Dwight Houston did a lot of stupid shit; but his first thoughts usually revolved around whatever Derek did to piss off girls, and that didn’t seem like Houston’s style.

She shook her head, “They lost the collection of gems I had on display for our booth for Prima. Now I have nothing to sell, so Royal is going to take the prize for Dobry.”

“And why’d you trust those two with it?” He knew them by reputation alone for getting into trouble; but not much else.

“Because those two happen to be my best friends.” The girl said, sounding like she couldn’t quite believe it herself. She put on a faint smile though, looking up and sticking out her scraped hand. “Sadie Moore, maybe you’ve heard of me.”

“Julian. Shame enough, I haven’t.” He shook her hand. “You’re new aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I transferred up here from Florida for Junior Year; but from the way the girls in Dobry go on, I’ve become some kind of one woman rumour mill.” She shivered. “It’s freaking cold up here. I don’t know how you all deal with it.”

“Don’t ask me. This winter is just as bad to me. I’m from California and everytime it snows here I get whiplash.” Julian smiled as she laughed. It was a nice laugh. “And one-woman rumour mill? What’s with that?”

She rolled her eyes, “Dobry girls see romance everywhere they look; a chunk of them think I’m dating Dwight, the other half won’t shut up about that time I kissed Laura, and the rest of them think I’ve gotten both of them, when like? Fuck you just cause I’m bi doesn’t mean I’m a slut. Jeez, it’s 2012, I just want to enjoy the Valentines Day Fair without all that.”

“You’re bi?” Julian asked, before he could stop himself.

She wrinkled her nose, suspicious. “Yeah. You got a problem with that?”

“No! Just, I don’t meet many people who just say that aloud to people they just met, you know?”

Julian didn’t like being on the back foot with people. Let alone being caught off guard. Sadie kept looking at him until her expression cleared and she judged him not a biphobic asshole- which, wouldn’t that be ironic?

“I guess you’re right. Hey, you want to walk around? I guess I’m off booth duty until someone can find my gems; unless you have your own booth to get to?” She looked over his jacket, “Stuart? I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

Julian laughed, “I was ordered to show up and nothing more than that. And gems? Like? Rubies or something?”

“Semi-precious at most.” She explained, launching into a long diatribe about online ‘healing crystals’ versus her own, far superior, ethically mined quartz.

By the time they rounded Hanover’s Ferris Wheel (the compromise for a less dangerous ride this year), Julian’d caught himself laughing at Sadie’s geology jokes; sharing the time he snuck up to the Hollywood sign; learnt Sadie liked heavy metal; and told the entire story of Clark, Marcie, and him engaging in a spicy noodle challenge back in LA. He hadn’t even realized they’d walked that far; engrossed in conversation.

The air was turning colder, nipping his ears and turning the tip of Sadie’s dark nose red. She coughed, sticking her hands under her arms. “Fuck, this place is shit. How do people live up here?”

“You were here for December right? You saw it snow, and that didn’t scare you away?” He asked.

“Oh no, snow is pretty!” She insisted, “I’ve gone skiing with my parents in Whistler, that’s fun! But this? Where it’s just grey and gross and cold? Uh, it’s so stupid.”

“Well you not wearing gloves, so maybe that’s why?” Julian pointed out.

She rolled her eyes. “Logic. Facts. Maybe I don’t like gloves?”

“You forgot them didn’t you?”

She flushed. “I lent them to Laura actually, she forgot her own back at Prima.”

Julian looked down at her biting the inside of his lip considering. Ah fuck it. He pulled off one of his own gloves and handed it to her. “Here, put your other hand in your pocket. It should be fine.”

Her eyes widened. “You sure?”

“Yeah, whatever.” He looked over at the booths; they were squarely in Hanover territory. Huh. How long had they been walking? He should say hi to Abbot. But he was probably busy running things over here.

“Thanks.” Sadie said, her left hand stretching experimentally with a too-large glove and the right nudging his elbow. “That was pretty nice of you Mr. Larson.”

He snorted. “I was wondering when you’d realize.”

“I don’t watch many dramas. So, it took a bit to realize you were that movie star who goes here.” Sadie said, “Sorry I can’t say I’m a fan of you stuff.”

She looked genuinely apologetic; he shook his head far too quickly. “No, no, that’s… that’s a good thing.”

Julian could count on one hand the amount of people he’d known who were fans first, who he’d genuinely come to like as people. It was nice to talk about work and that was it; it was just work. Half the reason he’d decided to come back to Dalton was to have just a slice of that normal experience. And if he was bombarded by fans? Well, how normal was that?

“Oh, okay.” She said, confused by the quick refusal. “I guess, you want to keep walking?”

“Yeah. Tell me more about skiing, I’ve never gone all the way up to Whistler. Are you good at it?”

It continued like that; making the rounds of the booths, pocketed hands bumping against each other as they avoided the clusters of people pushing their way forward. Every so often Sadie would spy another Dobry girl and lament the loss of her inventory for her booth; but thankfully, Julian was so out of context next to her, there wasn’t an awkward encounter. It was weird, every second Dobry girl they ran into seemed to ask about Bancroft or Houston, expressing surprise they weren’t with her.

“I guess you were right about the Dobry rumour mill. It’s going full force this year.” Julian joked.

Sadie rolled her eyes. “It’s annoying, but hey, considering they’re off hiding together the rumours will hopefully leave me out of it after today.”

“You’re not worried they’ll start to connect you and me then?” Julian asked, the notion suddenly appearing in his own head.

“Like half of them even realized who you were. You’re not going around advertising you’re the famous Julian Larson; and standing next to Dobry’s current resident witch doesn’t help put two and two together.” She pointed out.

“I just haven’t turned on the charm.” Julian joked; it was an old Hollywood myth, but it had some truth to it about hiding in plain sight. He could stride forward, and let everyone know who he was, but it was nice to not have to chase off a horde of teenaged girls (and boys) this year. God knows last year was a shitstorm for that kind of thing.

“Julian!”

“I guess you turned it on.” Sadie smiled, before turning to see Derek coming towards the two of them. She frowned. “Oh, its that guy.”

“You know Derek?” Julian asked before Derek cut him off.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere! You haven’t been answering your phone. We needed you to help with the Lunch Tent.” Derek was annoyed. That much was obvious.

“I’ve had my phone on silent. Murdoch told me to show up, and that’s all I’m doing. I don’t care if Stuart loses again this year; I just want to have a Me Day.”

Derek’s eyes flicked over to Sadie, “Me Day huh?”

“Come off it, not everyone is a Don Juan wannabe like you.” Sadie’s gloved hand went to her hip, daring him to say anything further.

Derek blinked, alright then. He looked back to Julian, reaching out to pull him away. “Come on, I’m not doing Logan’s prefect duties alone.”

“Why not just let Logan do them?” Julian countered, stepping backwards.

Derek gave him a look. “You know it’s a two-person job, if not a three person job trying to control these freshman on any project.”

“Sounds like not my problem.” Julian shrugged. “Ask Murdoch for help, I’m out of here.”

“Julian!”

“He said no.” Sadie said firmly before Julian reached out and tugged her hand, motioning towards the gap in the booths. His almost laugh met her mischievous eyes.

Before Derek even knew what was going on, Sadie and Julian had taken a page out of her own pursuit that morning and ducked between the booths, darting down and around staves and tent poles to lose him. Maybe they ran for longer than necessary, maybe that was half the fun. They reached the Windsors row, gasping for breath and laughing.

“Do you think he tripped and fell?” Sadie asked, brushing her curly, brown hair out of her face.

“No, he’s more coordinated than that.” Julian said.

Sadie shrieking with laughter and shoving him, “You’re so rude!”

“You’re the one who faceplanted!”

“By accident!”

“It was funny.” Julian pointed out, avoiding Sadie’s playful shove and instead catching her hands and looking down at her like he was lecturing her. “These are dangerous weapons, I ought to report you for use of deadly force. Except I won’t, because you’re tiny.”

“Short jokes? Really?” Her grin betrayed that she found it just as funny. “Well, at least I don’t hit my head on doorframes.”

“You laugh, but I always have to duck getting into limos.”

“Oh that is the most Hollywood thing you have said yet.”

“I’ve babysat Angelina’s kids.”

“Angelina Jolie?”

“I can go on.”

“Oh my god, you’re a dick.” Sadie laughed, “I’d hex you, but I don’t think it would stick.”

“So they’ve been saying about me, since the day I was born.” Julian said, dramatically put upon. “I endure such slings and volleys of-”

“If you start quoting Shakespeare, I will lose it.”

“Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage-” Julian grinned, ignoring Sadie’s protests to get him to quiet.

“I suck at English, come on!”

“And then is heard no more: it is a tale, told by an idiot,” Julian continued.

“Yeah! You’re the idiot!” She tried to interrupt.

“Full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."

“Yeah, my fury. Goddamn you actors.” She said, looking up with pink cheeks to stick her tongue out at him. “If I could just recall lines like that, I’d never have to use a spell book again, I’d just memorize them all.”

“It’s a gift. What can I say? Not everyone is as good as me.” Julian teased to Sadie’s exasperated smile.

They paused, realizing Julian was still holding her hands and sprang apart; not realizing how close they were. Julian felt his own face flush but hid it well enough. Now wasn’t the time, nor the day, to really get close to someone; even if she was quite pretty, he had to admit to himself.

“Uh, so back there you seemed to know Derek. Even though it took you a bit to realize who I was?” He tried.

She coughed, waving a hand carelessly. “Yeah, well everyone in Prima got to witness what can only be described as the most pathetic display of pining in the history of the world. Casey’s already told everyone to stay away from him because she said he’s a cheater; but then he showed up one day before Winter Break with this giant apology bouquet, and get this, it’s full of white lilies- which I didn’t know she was allergic to, but if you really feel that way about her, maybe? I don’t know? Know her allergies? But also, those are funeral flowers. As far as apologies go, it’s pretty shit.”

“You’re friends with Casey?” Surprise tinged Julian’s voice.

“Not friends per say, but she’s part of the welcoming committee. She’s pretty cool.” Sadie clarified. “How are you friends with a guy like that?”

Julian shrugged. “Derek’s pretty cool. He’s a really good friend when you get down to it, but yeah he is kind of shit with girls. I guess that’s what happens when your best friend since childhood is a gay guy. It’s not like he’s really been comparing notes. Logan and him aren’t that bad once you get to know them.”

“Well, I guess I have pretty biased sources.” Sadie said, waving around at the Windsor tents. “If my friend Morgan’s cousin wasn’t one of yours, I think I’d probably just see a Stuart badge and kick you guys on sight.”

“So violent Miss Moore.” Julian smiled. “We are kind of dicks though, so fair enough.”

“You’re not half bad though Mr. Larson.” She teased back. “You’re fun enough to hang out with.”

“I’m an exception to every rule I will assure you.”

“Don’t start quoting shit again. I will end you.”

“Only if you can reach that high.”  

“Oh you!”

“Hi Sadie! Oh, and Julian? I didn’t know you two knew each other.” Reed Van Kamp said from behind the table of the nearest booth. “You two enjoying the fair?”

The pair smiled; Reed was always a welcome sight, no matter who you were.

“Yeah, it’s been pretty fun. We’ve just been walking around. I thought you’d be out with Shane?” Sadie asked, coming under the tent top to talk more easily. “He mentioned something about Valentines plans.”

Reed looked down bashfully, “Well, last Windsor party got us all banned from Warbler activities; Blaine thought it’d be good if I was sitting down for all of the Fair. So, we’re doing our date on the weekend instead.”

“Aww, that’s cute. Then you won’t have to deal with Valentines Day crowding.” Sadie pointed out. “Really its working out in your favour.”

“I guess.” Reed said, then looked over at Julian. “I’m surprised to see you here. I thought I heard you were staying in all day.”

“What Murdoch wants; Murdoch gets.” Julian shrugged.

Reed smiled. “It’s good to see you anyways; at least someone gets to have a date today.”

“Oh we’re not-”

Reed flushed, “Oh heck, I’m sorry! I just assumed. That was bad of me. Here, have some cookies on me.”

“You don’t have to.” Sadie said even as Julian took what was offered.

He nudged her. “They’re good, take some. Wait, these are some of Kurt’s right?”

“Yeah, it took David and Wes all day to clean up the aftermath. He was a man on a mission!” Reed said, pushing a little ribbon-wrapped packet at each of them; then pushing them out as he cut himself on the edge of the plastic and had to call for a band-aid.

Julian and Sadie wandered off, happily snacking on their free cookies. They really were quite good, even if Sadie said there was nothing magical about them.

“You know, that’s the second person to assume we’re on a date.” Julian pointed out.

“And what of it?” Sadie asked.

“Well, what makes a date not a date?” Julian crunched down on another cookie. “You have two people sharing food and talking, and what makes it different between just hanging out and a date per say?”

“I think someone needs to ask and the other needs to accept. But yeah, its pretty arbitrary.” Sadie nodded. “Most people hold hands or some shit, or kiss. You saying you want this to be a date?”

“I’m just saying it could be an option.” Julian said, mulling the idea over in his mind. It would be nice to be on a normal date; not one where he had to sneak around with a guy and pretend they were just friends, or hide from paparazzi with a girl because his agent wanted maximum exposure for their upcoming film together. “It doesn’t need to be a thing. But I’ve liked talking to you. We should do this again, whatever you want it to be.”

She pursed her lips. “Hmm. I accept. You need to get me flowers though.”

“A date it is.” Julian confirmed, laughing at how easy that was. He offered his ungloved hand; hers slipping into it easily, with a crinkle at the corner of her eyes.

“So, flowers? What kind do you like?”

“Not lilies.” Sadie joked.  

“Belladonna maybe? What do witches like?”

“Well this witch likes roses.”

Julian froze, “Uh maybe something else?”

He face paled; she’d probably heard from Dwight and Laura. “Oh shit! I’m sorry! Look don’t worry about it.”

“No, no, it’s just, they’re not-”

“Marigolds then.” She said, hurried.

“I can work with that.” Julian recovered, the awkwardness still lingering. “You shall be showered in marigolds. You’ll be covered in pollen before the day is out.”

“Now that’s a picture.” Sadie said, letting him lead her towards the nearest flower booth and moving her head so he could tuck a marigold into her curls. “Aww, that’s so cute.” Julian agreed.

The rest of the day was much of the same. It was like they’d said; there wasn’t really much of a difference between hanging out and a date beyond the declaration of intent. It was fun though. He liked being able to wander around and feel like, yeah, this was a date. It was something he could say aloud. And she was nice. Maybe it wouldn’t go anywhere, but as far as dates went he’d had far worse ones. It was certainty better than dealing with all the romantic drama an all-boys school seemed to kick up.

By the time everyone started packing up, they were sitting on a bench near the entrance and exit gates, sharing a basket of chili fries. Sadie was telling him about her last boating adventure around the Florida Keys, and Julian’d been wistfully imagining a surf contest between the two of them if she ever ended up on the West Coast.

The Prima and Royal prefects were gathering their girls near the gate. Julian looked over, “Do you need to get going?”

“Probably. I wish I had been able to drive here on my own, but the roads are too icy for my bike.”

“Why the hell would you bike all the way here? The fairgrounds are like, ten miles from Dobry.”  

“No, motorbike. I ride sometimes with some other students, but I can’t do shit in the winters up here.”

“You have a motorbike?” Julian asked, “You realize that makes you like, ten points hotter.”

She blushed. “You’re an idiot. But yeah, I guess it does. Maybe I’ll take you out sometime when the weather gets warmer.”

“It’s another date I guess,” Julian said, crumpling up the paper from the finished fries. “Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around though? The girl clinging to the cool guy on the motorbike?”

“Well, it’s either you or Allison, and she’s still in her baby gay phase so I don’t want to mess with that.” Sadie stood, before bending down to kiss the corner of Julian’s mouth. She flushed. “I’ll see you around.”

Julian looked after her, a little shocked but in a good way. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

She waved as she went to join the other Dobry girls at the buses. Maybe he’d have to join the rest of his own House at some point; but either way… it had been a good day. Yeah.

#daltonficbigbang2020 #daltonfic #oneshot #pg #otp #brotp #moorrson #julian larson #sadie moore #Derek Siegerson #reed van kamp #prima #royal #stuart #artemiswrites

[stareiiez]

Flower Petals and Blood

𝐿𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝐶𝘩𝑢𝑟𝑐𝘩 𝑥 𝐹𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

Chapter 6

Word Count: 3.4k

𝑨/𝑵:  HI! Hello, yes, it's me. I have updated with an even longer chapter for this ongoing series that you guys have really seemed to enjoy :D I’m happy for the support and love I’ve gotten!

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Graphic description of choking, perhaps vomit.  Nothing too extreme for n o w, just good ole choking on some flowers. 

                             ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

 "What's your deal?" You complained, your feet were trying to plant on the metal flooring of the base and then on the ground when you were dragged outside the base.

Your voice was high pitched and annoyed, as you if you had every right to be a bit whiny towards another soldier. The black-armored clad female had dragged you from your doorway, leaving behind Tucker to talk to you in private. The sun beat down on to your bear head and already sweat was working its way to dampen the back of your neck and back itself. It seemed to only get hotter in Blood Gulch around 'summertime', you had a way of telling when the 'seasons' changed due to the slight difference in this area.

"Whatever you could have said, you couldn't have said in front of your other teammate." You bit out, as the grip on your wrist grew tighter. Oh right, you forgot to mention how she had held you by the arm like a child who was in trouble, then dragged you away. She should have just grabbed you by the ear and scolded you just to further add on to your embarrassment.

"This isn't about him, this is far from him. Who you do on your own time in none of my concern. He's not even my teammate, to begin with in the first place, I'm just hired to be here to replace Church's death." Tex stated, her hand had pulled you harshly forward as the two of you wandered behind the back of the Blue base.

How quick she practically threw you ahead of her had your head spin slightly as you fought to gain your balance against the quick moment of momentum. Was a conversation that serious that she had to be that bitch to pull you away from- .. from. Well, what did she step in on back there? Were you going to do something with Tucker? You couldn't even remember, the moment he set his hands on you. Your body burst into flames of heat and some tingly feeling that left your mind dazed beyond compare. You were on fire and he added more gasoline to the bonfire that screamed in your chest. He burned the bright petals away and let you live. Maybe you were just pent up and Tucker was your only scapegoat. Did you like him? Maybe. He was good-looking, funny when he wasn't talking about his dick, and caring. He worried over your condition and in that one spare intimate moment, you could feel the ache in your lungs. He made you feel, normal. Tucker made you feel something other than pain and for one painstakingly moment as the world around you spun. Maybe he was something you needed in your life.

"Something is off about you," Texas spoke once you gained your bearings, her voice brought on that itchy feeling to your chest. Her voice was nails on a chalkboard and that yanked you out of your glazed over attention.

‘Gee Tex, as if puking up petals wasn't off enough. What do you want? A fucking billboard so you can see it easier instead of looking down at me from your god damn high horse named Church?' You thought to yourself.

Acid burned in your throat as you bit down on your tongue. You swallowed the sharp acidic tang that tried to push its way past your teeth in word vomit or actual vomit. Your breath left in a quick rush of air once your gazed turned to cast the female an actual agent of the nearly forgotten Project; and you. You were just someone that knew everything about the agents, everything the Project stood for. You could spill your guts to the public, to cover what the media didn't when the Director went into hiding. You didn't hate Project Freelancer, no you loved the stories that you heard about them. You loved and looked up to the war criminals as if they were Earth's do-gooders who saw no wrong and weren't manipulated into thinking they were better than anyone. Captain Flowers even told you of his past, of him faking his death to get into this particular simulation group under a new persona. He was dedicated enough to sell his soul for Project Freelancer, and by god did that organization let him down coldly.

He was crazy. his sanity gone and down the drain, the Project fell. He was all smiles and sadistic chuckles when everyone he ever knew or cared for was shown up as MIA or KIA. His sanity was gone and switched out for episodes that he was either way too friendly that it was uncomfortable, or for others that were a bit too bloodthirsty for a canyon group of idiots. He wasn't Agent Florida, he was some other man that filled that husk and took his job with the biggest grain of salt in the salt shaker.

You just hated her. Hate was a strong word, but she was just another manipulation that was conned by the Director. She didn't have to come back, she didn't have to be here and have Church wrapped around her pink finger, but she did. Church was hardwired to chase after her, he was destined to live out the Director's love through another robotic AI copy of her. You were just here on the sidelines to watch it play out and choke to death on some fucking made-up disease. Why do you need to be the one to tell her your whole fucked up one-sided love triangle fiasco when it's obvious she is here to just intimidate her.

Like some twisted female Alpha, she wants to make sure you don't fuck with what's hers. If it's possible to give hickies and blow an AI you'd gladly track Church down and make it happen as long as she sees it. The itchy feeling bloomed slowly back in your chest, your breath stuttered just slightly in your lungs. It was starting to hurt, the itchy feeling was moving upwards, like vines of a rose garden and twinning themselves through your organs. It's sharp thorns digging into flesh and tissues.

"Well?" Tex states, her arms have crossed over her onyx chest plate. Her head tilted to assess your unarmored form, and you swear she's grinning under the visor.

"It's just a head cold." You gritted out, the lie slipped through by the skin of your teeth, the truth was biting and burning on your tongue. The acidic taste rolled on your tongue, and it was harder to swallow this time around.

There was a scoff, from the other. Texas stared at you, her gold emotionless visor was staring you down. It was like she could see past the wavering lie you had hastily said to force her to be on her way. The silence growing between you two was nothing but uneasy, and your mouth burned with the sensation to double over and puke. You wouldn't mind spilling your guts, literally, on her polished black boots before you even amused her further. You needed to throw up, petals or liquid you couldn't tell this time around, whatever Texas was staring at, you wanted her to hurry up and move on. Your upper lip quivered as another beat of silence passed and she finally broke eye contact.

"I'll just go ask Church, you two seem to be.... way more comfortable for a teammate." One finger pointed accusingly at your face.

Your lips curled up at her words. "what's that supposed to mean?"

Tension sizzled, tightened, wound around your throat, and warmed your red blood cells that coursed through your veins as Tex didn't hesitate to reply.

"Church isn't smart, he's see-through." A snort escaped your mouth, one you couldn't help to not hold back. Yeah, no shit, he's see-through, he's not even a fucking real person.

With a glare you could feel penetrate through the golden, emotionless visor Tex continued. "He likes to hang around you, he's less of an-"

"Asshole?" You quipped.

"I was going to say absolute dumbass of a dick, but that works too if you want to be basic." She sighed, "Look, for some reason Church likes to hang around you. He rants, I hear him rambling and somehow cussing you out across the damn canyon. He's loud enough for even the dead to hear." *Ha, funny.*

"And this is supposed to make me blush?"

"I'm saying that whatever is going on between you, friends, you're screwing each other or whatnot. I'll find out what's happening with you, so watch your back." Bored with conversating over an Ex of hers, and whatever the hell kind of frequent one night stand hookup partner, The Bitch in Black sauntered away with the confidence that she was so sure of herself.

Once she had rounded around the base and was, hopefully, out of earshot, you wheezed hard. Lungs ached and trembled as a sharp pitched exhale left. Stabs of hot knives sliced at warm, soft, fleshy, sacs of skin that shrunk and grew behind your ribcage. The world blurred in watery colors, and small tears pricked and warmed your cheeks as they slipped down your skin. You didn't choke on petals, it felt fuller in your throat. The object bulged in your throat and tickled your trachea. Velvet petals, earthy tasting that made you gag and try to swallow whatever was temporarily blocking your air passage. You couldn't gag, couldn't possibly cough hard enough to even move the blockage more up to the back of your mouth. You were choking to death, and you were pretty sure you looked like an absolute mess or more while balancing in the brink of death.

With another choked gag, you fell to your knees on the dusty ground and then flung your whole body crashing down violently on the sun-baked ground in desperation. The sudden jarring and slam of your stomach on the floor, shoved the last few puffs of sweet oxygen and carbon dioxide gave the gentle shove of the object. Petals tickled your uvula, and you nearly clamped your mouth shut in repulsion. It wouldn't bug, no amount of even throwing up or coughing would make it move anymore. You'd have to shove your fingers down your throat to free your airflow yourself.

A trick, one stupid college tale your best friend told you before you shipped out for the military, was tucking your left thumb into your fist and squeeze. Strong, weak, or no gag reflex you couldn't give a damn. Not taking the chance to puke your guts out and more from just putting your fingers to the back of your throat was undesirable. Squeezing your eyes shut, your pointer and thumb of your right hand ventured into your mouth. Your lungs burned, and your body shook in rebellion from having another thing added to your mouth. It was easier to fully grab the petals that constantly brushed against your uvula, they didn't tear off as you slowly pulled whatever was choking you to death or unconsciousness. Your left thumb popped in the ever-tightening grip of your fist as you retracted your hand from your mouth and pulled whatever you were holding between your pointer finger and thumb.

Air, precious, hot, sweet, cold, burning, dry air rushed and skimmed down your throat as you finally inhaled. Your passageway was clear, and you could breathe properly. You still trembled and shook with small gentle coughs that came from your oxygen-deprived deflated lung sacs. Your eyes opened against the small tears that still flooded your pupils. With your hand now relaxed, it wiped your gaze clear and you finally turned to what was damp and hanging limply in your grasp.

Against the bright sunlight, you nearly let out a sharp gasp that stretched your already sore lungs to hurt even more. There color of periwinkle blue, with a bright golden center that was small and dusted with pollen. Pollen that dusted your lips and tasted like strong, musky Earth, and a sick, oddly sweet aftertaste inside your mouth. You couldn't tell the type of flower that was shining from the saliva that coated its once open spread petals. Thank god the single flower did not have a stem, it was just the head of the flower.

You never produced full flowers, let alone formed ones before. Small petals, large petals, oddly shaped or clumped together was what you had puked or coughed up for at least two or three days. Now your disease was progressing for the worst, and you weren't sure if your body could keep up. Eyes, wide as saucers you kept the soft flower in your fingers, too afraid to gently cradle it in your open palm. You had managed to push your weight up to your knees, then onto your feet slowly after a minute or two of gaining your strength.

Your feet carried you before you could even see where you were going. It's not like you needed to, you knew the ins and outs of this god damn canyon like the back of your hand. You mapped this desolate place since the first week you ever got stationed in the Blood Gulch Canyon. You were mindlessly walking fast, as fast as you could without tripping on the uneven ground. You were heading to Red Base, Doc could still be there. He didn't hang around Blue Base as much after Sarge claimed the purple medic as Red Team's own reluctantly. "Numbers over insubordination." was what Sarge always said, when he had begrudgingly allowed Doc to enter the Red Base that day of the exchange between Blue Team and Red Team. It was humiliating for Grif, and just sad for being desperate to get what Blue Team wanted the most.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Doc!" You nearly screamed as you stumbled into Red Team's Base, the flower still dangling and threatening to crumple in the tightening grip of your hand.

Your voice rang out and nearly caused Sarge to fire a warning shot near your head from the sudden panic that racked his body. He only had raised his shotgun at you, but how frail you looked and near on the edge of collapsing to the ground from exhaustion; he lowered his gun.

"What are you doing here? You Blue?" His gruff voice didn't stop as you merely cast the older man a brief look while venturing a little more into Red Base.

Sarge, Grif, and Simmons were all in the Base's kitchen. Random weapons were laid out and disassembled to be cleaned probably by Sarge and Simmons. Grif was scrounging around, opening cabinets and snooping around the crappy fridge for any type of food to snack on for probably the seventh time in the day.

"I- I need Doc, he's... he's supposed to see this." Your voice was quiet, trying to sound steadfast even though your breaths were sounding airy and wheeze like.

Your hand outstretched, the periwinkle colored flower was now dry and started to crumple its sad, wilted petals inward.

"A? flower?" Grif asked, his voice full of confusion as he looked at you long enough to take in your disheveled state that held the flower.  

"It's not just a-" You exhaled tiredly, clearly not in the mood to spill the dirt of your disease to yet more people who had an even higher risk of accidentally blurting out your secret to Church.

Simmons was too honest, Grif would 'accidentally' give you away without even thinking about it, and Sarge would be more than happy to prove Church wrong if the male were to assume anything about you. Sarge would expose your secret in the process, and then somehow blame your Blue ways for having this disease in the first place.

"Just, where is Doc?"

"He's in his room down the hall." Grif scoffed before turning his attention to the fridge, his top half-hidden behind the dirty white fridge door.

"Grif! You can't just tell the enemy where our men are." Sarge scolded immediately, Grif only made a grunting noise before bending down further to reach towards the back of the fridge.

Before Sarge could make any more threats, or begin to even start to for that matter, you grabbed the withering flower and ventured further into their base. Sarge's voice was growing quieter the more you walked down the surprisingly long bedroom hallway. The army, the UNSC or Project Freelancer, must have thought a lot more people would be so willing to be stationed in the most desolate places with nothing to do but play a long game of capture the flag. Oh, how wrong the Army was to even waste money to even have that idea.

Finally, what you could guess was Doc's room. Especially since smooth jazz music was pouring out from behind the closed door, and you could even hear the cheery humming of the male with the calming beat. It felt bad for you to even knock on the steel door and interrupt whatever he was doing in his room, but you could say sorry later after you updated Doc about your disease. The volume of the music was lowered, and you could hear Doc say 'It's open!'.

"Doc?" You mumbled, once you tentatively opened his bedroom door.

Random posters of cheesy uplifting quotes, colorful little post-it's of self-esteem cheer up notes were plastered haphazardly among the posters that were glued to his walls. Typical Doc, for someone so bullied and teased from both teams, he managed to decorate his room the way he would want to make him feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. He was hyping himself up every day, and that was the most precious thing you could witness. Not everyone here was in the mindset to think the way Doc thought about themselves. Doc could perhaps go crazy and yet some part of his mind was so hardwired in positivity, that he could still find good things to say about himself.

"Oh! I didn't expect to see you here!" Doc spoke up once he registered you were standing in his room. He smiled warmly, glasses that sat on his nose tilted slightly from the movement of his cheeks.

"Well I'm your only real patient right now with a life-threatening disease, I would think you would expect me." You could have winced at the dry joke you were forced to crack to not ruin the welcoming environment in his room.  "Speaking of disease, Doc I have something to show you."

"Good or bad." The male rose his pointer finger to push the clear frames more upon his nose and plopped down on his bed to sit. His hands folded in his lap like a good listening student in elementary school. Except this was a sick version of  show and tell in a fucked elementary school.

"Well.." Your hand outstretched and showed the other the flower in your hand.

It stunk of a now sickeningly sweet smell, even if it was wilting and sad looking now more than ever. The periwinkle blue colored remained bright and vibrant, but the very ends of the petals were turning into the brown color that signified its slow process of decay. The smell was new, but then again maybe it was just the stench of Red Base itself. Maybe either base smelt different, but that would be a dumb observation.

"It's a Morning Glory, its.. pretty?"

Your eyes widened from Doc's observation. "Doc, are you kidding? I've never produced whole ass flowers before! and you want to tell me the type of flower it is! Are you still fucking kidding?"

"You're right! You're right I couldn't help myself." Clearing his throat, Doc leaned forward and plucked the head of the flower from your open palm.  He held the flower close to his eyes, nose wrinkling from the scent practically smacking him in the face from how nauseous it was making him feel.

"This is the first time you've ever produced right?" You nodded, and Doc hummed under his breath. One eyebrow cocked in question as he stared at the flower.  Curious fingers pulled at the petals and rubbed them between his thumb and forefinger, now and then making a noise of acknowledgment.

"Well, the disease is getting worse, it's progressing way faster than I thought it would. Good news, you won't choke on stems yet, just fully formed flower heads."

"That means?" You asked,

“It means you're well on your way to dying."

"Wha- Doc!"

"What? You asked."

You guffawed at the man who seemed stoic for once, he seemed so calm as a sudden rush of panic racked your brain and nearly left you screaming internally in your subconscious.

"Listen I'm serious when you need to actually talk to Church about this, or else this is going to be the end of you."

In the middle of you silently screaming and perhaps trying to hold together your sanity long enough to not break down screaming in front of Doc, in the Red Base no doubt. A third presence in the room made your spine curl inwards, and the acidic taste of sourness flooded your mouth.

"Tell me what?" Church asked when he materialized in the room, his see-through form that was hinted in the same color of the Morning Glory that was cradled tenderly in Doc's hand.

Now you had another reason to hate flowers, their colors reminded you of Church.

#rvb #red vs blue #rvb church #rvb sarge #rvb grif #rvb doc #rvb x reader #red vs blue reader insert #leonard church #dexter grif #doc dufrense #richard simmons #female reader x rvb #church x reader #leonard church x reader #fp&b #flower petals and blood

[softschnappi]

Welcome to Derry!

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: swearing?

Based off of this headcanon of mine!

A/N: AAIIEEEEEE this is FINALLY done after a whole YEAR! I am so proud of this idea and I think it’s the best one I’ve come up with and I don’t even know where I came up with it like I just randomly pulled it out of my ass and it kinda blew up?? And BRUH I think it - unfortunately - fits perfectly with the canon ending in ST3 so I did end up changing some stuff from the original plan…hope you enjoy!

“Shit,“ Jonathan muttered under his breath.

Will sighed in response and leaned his head against the car window. It was pitch black outside and their car was the only one on the road which was surrounded by tall, ominous, swaying trees and bushes. 

Jonathan had been driving his car with Will accompanying him in the passenger seat across the country to Maine, following behind his mother and El in a big Uhaul truck that held all of their belongings for the new house. They had been on the road for a few days, stopping at restaurants and drive-thrus along the way. All was going well and they were almost at the new house until a car cut in front of Jonathan on the highway and he couldn’t see what exit his mother took. All he knew was that the truck was nowhere to be seen.

After an hour of driving around it started to get dark and Will started to worry that they were really lost. They had no way of contacting Joyce other than to ask for a phone at a gas station and call the new house, but they weren’t even sure if she and El had even arrived yet. They were both equally horrible at reading maps. The one thing they were sure of was that they were definitely in Maine since they passed the Welcome to Maine! sign a while ago. So they tried their hardest to read the state map of Maine and of some of the towns they passed, but Will knew they were lost after neither of them could figure out the map and he tried to get Jonathan to admit it but he wouldn’t. However, after driving around in the dark in the middle of nowhere for twenty more minutes, he caved.

“I told you we were lost,” Will rolled his eyes and continued to stare out of the window. It was really dark on the road. Too dark. Way too dark. 

Jonathan sighed and put his hand on Will’s shoulder. “Fine, we’re lost. We tried everything we could, but don’t worry-”

“Don’t worry?” Will scoffed and glared at his older brother. “We’re lost in a state we’ve never been to in the middle of nowhere at night and we have no way of contacting mom. Even El couldn’t get a clue of where we are because she lost her powers.” He turned away and looked back out the window, hiking his feet up onto the seat and pulling his knees to his chest.

“Will, calm down. I’m sure there’s like a gas station around here somewhere,” Jonathan assured him. “We can get directions there and everything will be fine.” He desperately hoped that what he was saying would be true. 

They kept driving along the road for fifteen more minutes before they saw the first building with bright lights since the sun went down hours ago. Will and Jonathan noticed the gas pumps at the same time and cheered in unison. After four hours of being lost, they were finally going to be on their way home!

“Okay,” Jonathan started as he pulled up to a pump. “While I fill up the gas, you go in and ask for directions. They’ll have to have a map of where we are. I’m counting on you to remember what they say, okay?

Will nodded and opened the door, climbing out. Just as he was about to shut it he turned to Jonathan with a grin. “Let’s just hope they don’t lead us to Florida. Although, haven’t we always wanted to go to Disney?”

“The more time you waste talking the longer we’re stuck here,” Jonathan chuckled and put the gas pump into the car. “Now go.”

The store had all its lights on and Will could hear the faint music playing when he approached the door. He looked through the glass and saw a man with a yellow and black gas station looking uniform sitting at the cash, looking down and writing something. Perfect!

The man looked up at the sound of the chimes clanging when Will opened the door and stepped inside. He had short brown hair that was longer on one side, swooping down and almost covering his right eye. He was tall, lanky, and looked about Will’s age. 

“Hi,” The man whose name tag read Bill greeted. 

Will shuffled to the counter and looked up at him. “Hi there. Um, my brother and I are kinda lost and I was wondering if you could tell us where we are? Oh, and I’m also going to pay for the gas.”

“Well, you-you’re in D-D-Derry, Maine,” Bill stuttered, looking back down at Will and tapping his fingers on the glass that held all of the lottery tickets underneath him. He watched Will silently look away and cheer in victory.

“Great!” Will smiled at him. “So, I was wondering if you know how to get to-”

“I’m sorry, I d-don’t do well w-w-with directions,” Bill apologized, looking down and scratching the back of his head. 

Well, shit. They were so fucked now. Will and Jonathan were going to have to stay the night in the car somewhere and their mom is probably worried to death about them-

Bill must have noticed how deflated Will became after he told him that he wasn’t good with directions because he immediately tried to tell Will that he knew someone else who could help him. He stumbled into the back room and Will heard some bickering between him and another person.

A few moments later, a taller, much more annoyed man appeared behind Bill. Will’s eyes widened and his mouth went dry at the sight of him: curly dark brown hair, brown eyes, big square glasses, soft-looking lips…He almost looked like Mike. Almost. Oh, how he already missed Mike.

But Will quickly forgot about his best friend as he felt his heart racing and his cheeks heat up as the very attractive man’s expression turned from agitated to…interested after he looked Will up and down.

“Scratch that, Big Bill,” The man said with a smile on his face, “No need to pay me. I would be honoured to spend my precious time helping out this lost eye candy.” 

Eye candy? Will almost choked on his own spit at that one. He couldn’t believe that this random hot stranger at the gas station just implied that…no. That couldn’t have been what he meant. No way. No guy ever just hits on another guy like that, especially a stranger in public. Not possible. But regardless, it made Will’s face heat up even more. 

The man stood beside Bill and leaned his elbows on the desk, holding out his arm for Will to shake. “Richie Tozier, at your service,” He greeted Will with a wink. 

Will gulped and tried to calm his nerves as he shook Richie’s hand. Holy fuck, his hands were so soft and his own were so clammy from being so nervous. 

It was kind of embarrassing for Will to be this much of a mess and have been turned into complete mush ever since he laid eyes on Richie. He tried to snap out of it. It wasn’t every day he got an opportunity to speak with a hot guy and he wanted to make the most out of it.

“I’m Will Byers. And my brother and I are lost. The end of our trip is Derry so thank God we’re here, but we need to get to Palmer Lane,” He explained after taking a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. “And we have no idea how to get there.”

Richie reached underneath the desk, much to Bill’s displeasure who kicked him for getting too close. Will now noticed that Bill wasn’t actually writing anything but instead he was drawing. A bunch of birds, specifically, and it was looking really good. But his gaze was torn when Richie stood up and slammed a map on the counter and reached for a highlighter. With a yellow cap between his teeth, he drew three lines on the map and turned it around for Will to see.

“I don’t know what was so difficult about telling him where Palmer Lane is, you fucking wet end,” Richie turned to Bill and said. “Derry is the size of a penny.”

Bill rolled his eyes. “I thought h-he would w-want directions for o-out of town. And watch your language at wuh-work.”

Shaking his head, Richie mumbled something under his breath before turning back to Will. “So.” He started, pointing to a highlighted road on the town map. “This gas station is located on this road, which you need to take,” His finger slid down to the other road. “Until you get to Main Street. You turn onto that and then,” He pointed to a street right of Main Street. “You turn right onto Palmer Lane. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.” 

Will and Richie smiled at each other and Will thanked him. He noticed that Richie had become closer to him than he was before he pulled out the map. Will’s heart was beating fast in his chest as he looked into Richie’s chocolate brown eyes, swearing he saw stars in them, but he looked away quickly in fear of the other noticing that his cheeks were turning pink again.

“Say, I’ve never seen ye ‘round here, bucko,” Richie said to him, his voice suddenly very Irish. “What’re ye doin in a shighthole like Derry?” 

Will chuckled softly at his attempt to speak in an Irish accent. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t perfectly on point, either. “I think you need to work on that accent a bit more before it’s perfect,” Will encouraged Richie with a smile. “And I just moved here. Trying to find the new house.”

Richie’s face lit up and a joyous smile spread across his face. “Well, I’ll be,” He said, switching to a Southern accent. “We get a first look at the fresh meat before errybody else!”

“I’m sorry about him,” Bill apologized while shaking his head. He looked just about ready to stab Richie with the pencil in his hand.

Will waved his hand. “No, it’s okay! I mean,” He looked to Richie, shyly. “You’re funny.” 

“You bet your fur I am!” Richie stuck his tongue out at Bill, who rolled his eyes.

Will blinked. “You…bet your fur?”

“Derry slang, my friend. You’ll be hearing plenty more soon enough.”

Will hummed in response before he remembered the other reason why he was in the store. “Oh! I almost forgot to pay for the gas,” Will said as he put fifteen dollars on the counter. “It’s pump-”

“Five,” Bill finished as he entered the money into the register. “Yeah, you’re the o-only one hu-here.” 

Will looked down, feeling embarrassed. “Right.” 

“So, are you going to Derry High in the fall?” Richie asked in his normal voice, pushing his glasses up on his face. 

“Yeah, going into grade eleven.” Will picked up the change and put it into his pocket. When he looked back at Richie, he was still leaning over the counter but now had his elbow on it and his face resting on his hand. Watching as Richie quickly looked him up and down again, Will gulped as he began to rock back and forth on his feet. Richie didn’t even wait until a time when Will wasn’t looking to openly stare at him. Fuck.

“Cool! Me and Bill go there, and all of our friends. The same grade, too,” Richie smiled at Will, tapping his fingers on the counter. “Speaking of which, our friend Mike lives on Palmer Lane. So I’ll probably see you around before school starts!” 

Will one hundred and ten per cent wanted to see Richie again before school started. There was no way he could go a whole month without seeing Richie’s handsome face. Will’s heart started to beat faster in his chest because Richie seemed like he really wanted to see him again. If he went to see his friend Mike then he could drop by the new house and hang out and- oh fuck, Will was already falling for him.

“Yeah!” Will smiled at him. “My place is the one with the moving van outside.” His eyebrows furrowed as he blinked a few times before opening his mouth again. “I just realized I don’t know what my own house even looks like yet,” He laughed. 

Richie chuckled and looked back down at the map displayed in front of them. “Well, speaking of home, you better get on your way, buttercup. It’s almost 1am, and you don’t want ol’ Bob Gray coming to eat your toes and take your money.”

Will didn’t hear anything he said past “Buttercup.” His eyes were wide and his mouth was suddenly dry. Richie just…called him…Buttercup. Buttercup. Although he didn’t want to get ahead of himself, his brain automatically registered everything that had happened ever since he walked in the store as flirting. Richie, a super handsome guy he just met, was flirting with him. Him. Will could feel his whole face heating up again, getting hotter than it’s ever been before and he probably looked like a tomato.

Richie was scribbling something down on the map with a pen before he closed it up and handed it to Will. 

“Did you just call me buttercup?” He wanted to make sure he had heard him right.

Richie blinked. “Yes. Because, y’ know, your hair. You look like a Reece’s cup. I didn’t mean for it to be insulting-”

“You didn’t insult me,” Will shook his head. “It’s just nobody’s ever called me that before,” He smiled up at Richie and took the map. “Do you call all your customers candy-related names?” He asked, remembering how Richie had called him eye candy at the beginning.

“Nope,” Richie said, popping the p. “Just you, buttercup.” 

“Oh,” Will whispered, beaming. Then he did something he’d never done before: he put his hair behind his ear. Isn’t that something girls did when they talked to a guy? Will had no idea why he did that, but there was no time to worry over it. He’d just remembered that Jonathan was waiting for him in the car and they needed to get to the new house.

“Well I think you’re right, I better be on my way home,” Will said as he stepped away from the counter. He didn’t want to leave, but he knew he had to. “It was nice to meet both of you! Thanks for the directions, Richie.” 

Richie waved at him and even Bill looked up from his drawing to tell Will to come back again.

“See you soon, Will,” Richie smiled at him. “Twas nice chatting with you! Watch out fur the hobos!” He added in his Irish accent. 

Chuckling, Will walked over to the door. “Have a good night!” He shouted as he walked out of the store, looking at the ground and trying to hide the huge grin on his face. He hadn’t even got to the new house yet and he already made a friend. He thanked whatever Gods there were that he was able to run into such a handsome guy like Richie and have him - maybe - take some sort of interest in him. Oh, he was so handsome. Will kept thinking about Richie’s curls, the freckles on his face, and his chocolate brown eyes as he made his way to the car. 

“Got the directions?” Jonathan asked as Will climbed into the passenger seat of the car.

Will opened the map and was drawn to the writing in the top right corner:

Derry Gas: 207-396-7289

Richie Tozier: 207-826-2591 

☺

“Yeah,” Will smiled as he felt his heart rate speed up once again. “I got them.”

Maybe Derry wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

#why is the emoji there #OOF #this took way too long #ryers #richie tozier #will byers #Bill Denborough #losers club #the losers club #it #it 2017 #stranger things #stranger things 3 #will x richie #richie x will #ryers fanfic #ryers fanfiction #fanfiction #mike hanlon #mike wheeler #jonathan byers #stranger things x it #it x stranger things #crossover #stranger things crossover #it crossover #finn wolfhard #noah schnapp #Derry #derry maine

[godsofmonster]

Florida Kilos ≽ I.

Reader x Bangtan- Drug Cartel

Word Count- 8,500

Warnings- drugs, guns, blood, prostitution, violence, abuse, sexual content, betrayal, character deaths, ect.

≽ Links to previous chapters can be found on my masterlist in my bio because Tumblr sucks now! You can also click on the ‘Florida Kilos’ tag!

From the time that I was a little girl, growing up in poverty, I decided that my adulthood would be different. At a young age, I was more sure of myself than most of the people around me. As a result, I made my way down to Florida where I began to both make and deal cocaine- alongside the man of my life. We shared our dreams, our bodies, our business. I was in a drug cartel with responsibilities and a lot of talent. I made dangerous partnerships, million dollar deals, and a lot of money; that is where this story begins.

The lights were off and the kitchen was hot. It was midday, the sun was coming in strong through the blinds.

-

“You mix it. Like this (Y/n).” Yoongi took the rod from my hand, mixing the liquid at the bottom of the bucket. The clear substance began to cloud, a white milky color that looked better than gold.

“What is that called again? What you just added…” I asked him. I just need to hear it once more, so that way, I could never forget.

“Sodium Hydroxide.” I wrote it down in my head, spelling it out over and over again. Making a mental note of everything he said before. Sodium Hydroxide a white solid ionic compound consisting of sodium cations Na+ and hydroxide anions OH−. Like any other corrosive acids and alkalis, drops of it can decompose living tissues and cause chemical burns that may induce permanent blindness upon contact with eyes. “After we drain it, all that’s left is to cook it.”

He removed the rod from the bucket and tossed it in the sink nearby.

“This whitewater is the purest form of cocaine. What every housewife and wall street businessman likes to snort.”

-

The blend was wrapped in the towel; I waited for the stove to finish cooking another batch that was already turning into snow. Cooking was always Yoongi’s artistry- I, on the other hand, was gifted with numbers. I knew how much we made, how much we sold, and how much we lost.

I heard the front door of the trailer slam- He was home early. Too early, he should have been out for at least another 52 minutes, that could only mean, that it didn’t go well. He walked into my line of sight with his eyebrows furrowed under his black hair. I pushed my hair out of my face with my forearm and leaned my hip against the countertop.

“We didn’t complete the kilos they’re asking for.”  He took a set at one of the chairs from our two seat table. He pulled a cigarette, hidden in the back of his ear, placing it between his dry lips and lighting it.

“How many grams are we off?” He blew out smoke from his nostrils before rubbing his eyes with the side of his hand.

“14 grams.”  I cursed under my breath; calculating and recalculating what I had cooking on my side. “Finishing up what we have here would add up to a third of an ounce. If we are lucky.”

“We are going to be left with 7 grams for our personal supply. That is only $182 of the $546 that we were planning to make for the month.” He flicked his cigarette into the ashtray and blew out the smoke from his lips quickly.

“I know (Y/n)! I know…” Yoongi began to unbutton his flannel from the heat that was cooking the blow. “And that’s is nothing compared to what they are going to be selling it for throughout streets.”

I pushed myself off the counter, taking off my gloves and surgical mask, making my way over to him. It was difficult making any extra money for us to live off of. The manufacturers of this product made shit compared to the dealers, who had the contacts and connections, and we had no choice but to sell it to them. Though in our case, we sold our leftovers ourselves which was anywhere between 14 and 21 grams. Though, like Yoongi said, it was nothing compared to the price they were going to be making. Of course, what we're doing is absolutely insane. The money that we were paid was used to by the cocaine paste from contacts in Cuba. It was business and we weren't making much of a profit. We had to be careful of how much we sold at a time and where we sold it. Yoongi and I both knew the risk we were running selling on the side. Technically, we weren’t selling on anyone's territory but all of Florida was practically owned. Though, it wasn’t much coke; any competition was an act of war.

His eyes locked with mine, standing to meet me halfway; he took me into his arms and pressed me against the small table. I was only in a pair of cotton shorts and my bra; while his hands made their way down my figure, he hooked an arm around my leg. He placed me on the table and didn’t hesitate to press his lips against mine. His kiss was hot and wet, he tasted of the cigarette he just put out and an iced americano from earlier. His lips trailed against my neck with my legs spread on his sides. I couldn’t think to the care of how hot the house was when I had him so close to me. I leaned my head against the window, disturbing the blinds, and watching his head move lower down my chest. My breath grew heavy and I bit down on my lip to try and control my breathing. I pushed his dark hair away from sticking to his forehead, getting a better look the way his mouth worked on my skin.

“Yoongi…” I moaned, “I have to finish...cooking the coke.”

I lightly pushed his head away from me and sat up on the table. He sighed and stepped back, allowing me to hop off the table and walk back towards the stove.

“I’ll call Hobi to come over so we can finish packing the order.” He pulled out his phone in one hand and the other finished unbuttoning the rest of his shirt.  

“Call Kookie too. We need to give out all the coordinates over the next movements.” He nodded his head at me as the phone rang.

I made room on the counters to placed what was already cooked. Once Hobi got here, they would separate and weigh out what they needed to finish the order. Then were would see how much was left over for us. I put my mask back on and prepared what was left to be cooked.

“I still can’t stand that kid you brought in,” Yoongi muttered behind me. I rolled my eyes and glanced back at him. He tossed his shirt on the table he had me pinned against. My eyes trailed down his body while he walked over to grabbed a surgical mask from the drawer.

“He’s doing his job well,” He started at the counter,  loosely parting the cheese like material by what looked like the right amount. “Jungkook is selling everything we give him and, on top of that, he is helping us out with the orders of the Kim broth-”

“He wants to fuck you.” He laughed but, I could tell, it tasted bitter. “That is the only reason he’s obedient as a dog.”

“Who cares? It’s working in our favor baby! Besides...” I turned up the heat all the way hot before turning my attention to Yoongi. I stood by his side and wrapped my hand around his waist. “He’s afraid of you.”

“Well, he should be.” I giggled and ran my hand up his bare back. He had two bullet wound scars, one went right through his shoulder and the other missed his spine by inches.

-

“Alright doll, I want you to shoot those bottles over there.” Yoongi walked through the high grass coming back at my side. He handed me a 9mm pistol and placed his hands on his hips. “Open your legs- the aim is having balance in a strong stance.”

I nodded my head and wrapped my hands around the grip panel, “No, no. Don’t put your hand there-this isn’t a movie. Place the second hand around your wrist, to reduce the force of the kickback.”

I did what he said and gripped my wrist tightly. Closing one of my eyes, in an attempt, get a clear aim on the coca-cola bottle peeking out of the grass. My finger pulled the trigger and the gun kicked back with a loud bang. My eyes couldn’t help back the flinch at the sound and the bullet flew somewhere into the grass. I missed.

“Okay…” Yoongi stepped in. “Aim just slightly lower than your target. You need to imagine that every one of those bottles is someone trying to kill you. You only have one chance.”

I took in a deep breath, there was already a shot of adrenaline running through my body from the first shoot. In this case, the force of the escaping bullet is going to equal the force pushing back on the gun. Force is mass times acceleration. Semi-automatic pistols can hold usually between 7 and 16 bullets and fire as quickly as you pull the trigger. My hands were growing sweating and my heart was racing but I leveled my head and refocused on the target. I look down at the sight of the gun, took aim, slowly exhale, and pull the trigger.

Bang. The glass shattered.

“Shit...you got it!” I smirk spread on my lips and my eyes searched for the next target. Bang! Glass shattering. “You see that Hobi? (Y/n) is better than you already.”

I glanced behind me to Hoseok who was sitting on a nearby log. He wore a presently surprised look, with his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide. I snickered and stepped back to point the gun at Yoongi. He raised his hands up and smiled, a sight that I didn’t see very often,

“That’s my girl.”

-

I opened the front door and was greeted by Jungkook and Hoseok. I stepped to the side and allowed them into the small living room of our trailer home. Hobi walked over to Yoongi, pulling out the scales, a block press, and the almost complete kilo of blow from a duffle bag. I walked over to the table and grabbed one of the cigarettes from Yoongi’s flannel.

“Take a seat Kookie,” I said with the cigarette between my lips right before I lit it. I kept the Zippo lighter in my hand, practicing a tick I always saw Yoongi doing.

“What’s the move?” I blew the smoke from my lips before licking them.

“We are going to have to give you much less than I told you before,” I said as I watched Hobi add the last couple of grams to the kilo for the order. “We were sure to have at least a third of an ounce, but we're 14 grams short for the Kim brothers order. If we are lucky we might have 7 or 8 grams for you to sell this weekend.”

“Well, that's a fucking bummer. I had this college party lined up. I would have been able to sell it all in one night but 8 grams is just not enough.” Yoongi finished cooking what was on the stove, while Hobi pressed the order of coke into a perfect block.

“A kilo exactly.” He announced before putting the block in the microwave; so that any water and chemicals evaporate completely.

“Sell what you can- you have the rest of the month to get rid of it,” I said assuring him that though it was a bummer, it was not big of a deal. “How many grams do we have left Yoongi?”

“It looks like a quarter ounce exactly.” He said weighing what we had left over on the scale. Hobi shook his head and sighed while waiting for the block to be done in the microwave.

“Damn...everybody was looking forward to some ‘Suga’ at this party.” Jungkook laughed with disappointment.

“What did you call it?” I asked confused on his strange choice of name.

“Suga...that's what everyone knows it by.” We all turned to look at him completely confused. “The name that's on the bag.”

I felt my skin freeze and I turned to look at Yoongi. He had his eyes locked on Jungkook. He left the grams on the counter and stepped across the floor so swiftly that I couldn’t react fast enough. He walked up to Jungkook grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.

“What the fuck did you say?” He caught Jungkook completely off guard, pulling him up to his feet. “You put a name on the blow you’ve been selling?!”

“The Kim brothers do it- I thought so should we-”

Yoongi swung his fist, landing across Jungkook’s baby face. He let him stumbled a few steps back with blood dripping from a cut his cheek. Though Jungkook only needed two seconds to run back to return the punch. His fist made contact with Yoongi’s jaw. The punch had him leaning forward and spitting out blood from his mouth. I quickly stood up as Yoongi reached into the back of his pants for the gun he had tucked away.  

“That’s enough!” I stood behind Yoongi grabbing onto his shoulders.

“You fucking brat. Do you know what you’ve done?” His gun was pointed at Jungkook who stood holding onto his hand that was aching from the impact. “You put us on the map dumbass! What do you think the Kim brothers are going to do when they realize their coke is being sold under a different name and for a cheaper price?!”

“Put the gun down Yoongi,” Hobi said walking over between the too. Hoseok tore the gun from his grip and slammed it on the table. “We need to see what we are going to do now.”

I ran my hands along my hair and sighed. Labeling and naming one's product is a form of making territory- It is a way of openly saying “Here we are.” Which is exactly what we wanted to avoid.

“We aren’t selling in their territory though,” Jungkook said, stepping closer now that the gun wasn’t pointed at his head. He really needed to shut up right about now, for his own safety.

“All of Florida is their fucking territory!” Yoongi was quick to grab the gun once more and hit Jungkook with the back of it, this time, knocking him down.

“Jesus Christ, Yoongi!” I leaned down checking on Jungkook. Both his cheek and lip were cut open, blood was dripping down his chin and staining his white shirt. I looked up at Hoseok who was taking the gun away from Yoongi once again before I asked him to pass me some paper towels.

I would be lying if I said he didn’t deserve that- we could all be killed because of what Jungkook did. I would also be lying if I said that seeing Yoongi this angry didn’t turn me on. But I did bring Jungkook into our business, and so I felt responsible for what happened with him and to him.

“Get him the hell out of here before I kill him.” Yoongi turned around, walking off into the bathroom.

“Hobi please take him home. Yoongi and I will take care of the rest here- wait for our call later tonight.” Jungkook got up on his feet cleaning up the blood from his chin with the paper towels I gave him.

As soon as I saw them out, I went to the bathroom where I found Yoongi washing his mouth from the taste of blood.

“Let me take a look.” A slit on his top lip was bleeding heavily and he had a gash on his gums that cause him to keep spitting out blood. “He got you pretty good.”

“This is your damn fault too.” He pushed my hands away and walked passed me back into the kitchen.

“I understand but how was I supposed to know he would do something so stupid,” I said following behind him.

“You were supposed to keep track on him. I told you- I TOLD you that he was nothing but a cocky brat who wanted to play Scarface.” I trusted my judgment. Jungkook was young and hungry but he was serious about getting into this business.

“It was my mistake. I wasn’t clear with him from the beginning; I didn’t want him to know more than he had too but-” I cut myself off because I knew already it was my fault regardless of any explanations. “I will take care of this.”

“How do you plan to do that?” Yoongi began to wrap up the final kilos for the Kim brothers.

“The only thing we can do is stop selling for now- maybe start up again in a few months but in a different location far away,” I said walking around him to collect what little we had leftover. “Jungkook has been selling for six months if the Kim brothers new about ‘Suga’ they would have come after him already.”

He didn’t respond because he knew I had a point but he was still angry with me. I said nothing else and allowed us to clean up the kitchen, in peace,  from the mess that was made. We opened the blinds and windows airing out the smell of chemicals from our home. I took the gun and the quarter ounce of cocaine to hide them in the usual safe under our bed. I walked back into the kitchen as Yoongi was squatted down to pack up everything in Hobi’s duffle bag. I walked up behind him my hands resting on his shoulders,

“You know...the way you punched Jungkook kind of turned me on.” He stood up quickly and turned around to face me.

“I really doubt that. Especially, after how you fell to the floor to make sure he was okay.” I laughed and closed the gap between us.

“Baby you gun-butted him across the face-he’s just a kid.” He grabbed my wrists and held them tightly so that my hands wouldn’t roam around his torso. “You look so hot with a busted lip.”

There was a moment of silence that came with the blank stare he giving me. But Yoongi was quick to lunged forward and wrapped his hands around the back of my thighs. He wrapped my legs around my waist and carried me to our bed; where he tossed me onto the sheets. I sat up on my elbows, watching him unbuckle his belt as his eyes were burning holes into mine. I couldn’t help but bite on my lip, smiling, as I bought one of my legs up to open a space for him between them. Yoongi kneeled over me with his hands beside my head. His lips came crashing down on mine, I could taste the blood from his bleeding lip on my tongue.

“I hate you.” He muttered against my lips. I laughed and grabbed a fist full of his hair while he pushed his hips into mine.

“Shut up already.” I groaned.

My hands moved down his chest, reaching for the part of him that was poking me through the denim of his jeans. I palmed him through his briefs and he kissed his way down my neck pulling on the straps of my bra. I can tell how impatient he was from the way he thrust himself into my hand.

“Fuck…” Yoongi grabbed my hands and pinned them above my head. “Stay.”

I held onto the pillow above my head so that I could fight the urge to disobey him. He was quick to pull the material of my shorts and underwear down my legs, exposing my lower core bare in front of his eyes.

“You just gonna stare at it or what?” I kicked his chest and sat up. “Take those off, daddy.”

I unhooked my bra, tossing it to the side, while he finished undressing. Yoongi took hold of me again- wanting to have all the control he could have on me. He guided me on his lap, with both on my legs straddling at his side. His cock was hard and was throbbing to be lodged inside of me. I took a moment to look into his black eyes that only he had, his tan dewy skin, with blood trickling and pooling on his lower lip. I pushed his hair out of his eyes,

“You’ve never looked as good...as you do now.” This was the man of my dreams.

I leaned in close, my tongue running over his bottom lip, savoring the taste of his blood. His eyes lowered to my lips before he cupped my cheek in his hand; capturing my lips before I could even think to move away. Our tongues met in my mouth, deepening the kiss that we had fallen into. My hand landed on the nap of his neck, tugging at the strands of hair that rested on the back.

My man is a bad man but he had my whole entire world in his hands. He loves me- he needs me- he’d never leave me. My man was a good man but he was in a heartless world with no gameplan. I was the moon and he was my sun- who made me shine brighter than any diamond.

I sat on his length, he stretched me out and filled me completely. Yoongi’s forehead rested against mine while took a hold of my hips, allowing me to set the pace for the trip we were on. Our heavy breathing was reflecting the rhythm of my rocking hips. I moved slow but he pushed me down deep, carrying out every sensation to all that it was meant to be. Whimpers fell from my lips, echoing his grunts,

“You look so pretty with my blood on your lips.” Yoongi breathed while he brought his hand back up to my cheek. With this thumb, he smeared and smudged the red substance across my puckered lips as if it was lipstick. “Perfect…”

His blood stained my skin while he laid kissed across my chest, my head hanging back, I rocked my hips harder against him. I could feel my arousal leaking out of me every time he pulled out. I felt as though I could burst at any moment.

“I want you so bad…” I could almost cry. Nothing compared to having him inside of me-he was a part of me.

“You’ve got me.” He grabbed my arms to pin them behind my back. His hand was large enough to hold both of mine, while the other rested upon my hip. Yoongi began to thrust upward, hitting my insides from a whole new angle and a new rhythm.

I let out a scream that anyone near the house could make out and surely know the pleasure that was erupting in our bedroom. My core began to ache and my abdomen was burning. My legs were weak and a visible shake began to spread across my body.

“Ahh! Yoongi~” He tightened the grip he had on my hands with a few of our fingers interlocking. “I’m almost there…”

The determination glistened in his eyes, he cursed under his breath with each thrust he gave me. His hair was sticking to his forehead again and a vein was popping from the side of his neck. The sound of our breaths and our skin was filling my ears while my vision starts to haze. Though I tried to fight it- he was such a sight to witness.

Yoongi pressed me closer to him, my breast rubbed against his chest with every buck of his hips. My mind began to cloud and all I could do was feel the sensation that was running in my blood from my core to my very fingertips. As my eyes rolled to the back of my head, the only real thought that I could gather was- this must be what heaven was like.

Yoongi’s arms wrapped around my frame as he finished inside of me. There was no better feeling- no better man- that could give me that experience.

-

“Woah...how much money is in here?” I asked picking up the stack of hundreds that was wrapped in a rubber band. I flipped through the edge of the bills with my finger making a quick count of the cash.

“Enough to flee the country and not starve for a couple weeks- if needed,” Yoongi said unloading one of the three guns that had been locked away in the safe. “No one knows about this safe or this money- not even Hoseok.”

I looked up at him surprised. Hoseok was the only person that Yoongi trusted with his very life, he had said it himself. It was a shock that he would have any secrets from him but then again, in this business, you never knew.

“How come you’re showing me then?” I asked placing the money back on the counter. I crossed my arms over my chest, worried that the reason could be because I wouldn’t make out from here alive.

“I’m not just showing it to you (Y/n). I’m giving you the code to open it.” He said taking out the rest of the items that were inside. “This is your gun, your passport, and a quarter kilo of cocaine.”

“Yoongi I-”

“Hey listen to me,” He said grabbing my arm so that I wouldn’t step away from him. “If something ever happens and we need to get out of the country, we can do it with this, in a matter of hours... and- if something ever happens to me, you take this and go yourself.”

“You’re an idiot,” I said yanking my arm from his grip. “Nothing is going to happen to you. I’ll make sure of it.”

-

My body was startled out of my slumber by the bedroom door being broken down. I was in a cold sweat as I saw two men come in with machine pistols pointed right am me.

“Well damn, look what we got here!” One of them laughed as he looked at my exposed chest. Though my only worry at the moment was Yoongi because he wasn’t in the bed where we had fallen asleep. “You going to show us what's under those sheets baby?

“You touch her and you’re fucking dead! You hear m-” Yoongi’s voice was cut off and followed by his coughing. The two men began moving around on either side of the bed, I glanced into the living room where I could see other men pointing their guns into the kitchen where they had Yoongi.

There were only a few moments in my life that I could say, with all honesty, that I felt fear- this was one of them. Though, it wasn’t my life that I feared for. The only reason that I was remaining calm was that I was analyzing the situation we were suddenly in. They weren’t local authorities, much less DEA agents, no- these were men sent after us by the Kim brothers.  Two in my bedroom, two pointing their guns at Yoongi, and one that was only a voice.

That voice quickly had a face when he walked into the bedroom. He stopped in his tracks when he made immediate eye contact with me, his eyes fell on my chest, and then back at me. He was shorter than the other men, about Yoongi’s height, though definitely younger. Blonde hair framed a long face, a small nose above big lips, and a black shirt tucked into black pants.  

“I think we can keep her for ourselves, don’t you think we deserve it, Jimin?” The same guy said to him but Jimin still hadn’t taken his eyes off of me. I could tell he was doing the same as me, analyzing and calculating the next moves.

“Get her dressed and bring her too.” He turned around and was about to leave the room,

“Why? She’s probably just a whore he picked up on the street.” I smirked and Jimin glanced at me clearly seeing it.

“You think a whore would be acting so calm right now?” He asked the guy before reaching back and pulling a gun from the back of his pants. “No… She knows exactly what's going on.”  

He cocked his gun and pointed it at me. He told the men to leave the room and help out the other guys to restrain Yoongi. I contemplated my options- there was a gun tucked into my side of the mattress. I could reach for it when I had the chance, duck to the floor and shoot him the next second.

Bang. He’s dead. His men come in. Bang. I’m dead.

“Grab the clothes that are right here on the floor. No ticks.” He maintained eye contact with me. It was as if we were playing a game of who could keep their eyes open the longest but whoever blinked- died.

I slowly moved off the bed in the direction he indicated. The gun followed me as I moved, I could tell he was trying not to look down as the sheets began to reveal more of me. The question was- would he give in? The sheets were revealing higher and higher up my thighs; I purposely stepped down from the bed with one leg opened as the blanket trailed behind.

Curiosity killed the cat.  

The split second he looked down I reached behind me and grabbed the gun that was tucked away. By the times he noticed my change in objective, I already stood pointing my gun back at him. We waited both on the edge of our seats. I wanted to see if he would shoot me but instead, he waited to see if I would shoot him. Never had I met someone I could so easily read? It was because he was just like me- though, one of us had to be smarter.

“You aren’t a stupid girl. You know shooting me would be a terrible mistake.” Of course, I knew. I couldn’t hold back my smile, I must have looked like a sadist standing there completely naked and challenging him.  

I gave it another second, toying with my own life before I opened my hands letting the gun hang around my thumb by its trigger guard. I could almost see him exhale the breath that was caught in his throat this entire time. I dropped the gun on the floor and kicked it away as he instructed. I followed his orders and got dressed in the clothes that were on the ground. I wore Yoongi’s white flannel, that fit me like a dress, and a pair of my boyshorts.

He brought me out of the room with the muzzle of the gun against my back. I felt my stomach drop at the sight of Yoongi lying, face first unconscious, against the floor in a puddle of blood. My own blood boiled as the same pig who was in my room walked towards me smiling.

“See what happens when you put up a fight baby girl? You end up like your boyfriend right here.” I spit in his face so he would wipe away that cocky smile. The men behind him laughed at how he stumbled back. He must have thought my hands were tied together by the way I had them folded. That was his mistake because he was quick to slap me with the back of his hand. “Stupid bitch.”

There was a second where I looked at him through the hair that fell over my face, my cheek burning hot and I could taste my blood- at that moment he knew his mistake was not killing me.

I jumped off my feet, wrapping my legs around his torso, biting down on the first piece of flesh I could find. My teeth sunk into the skin of his cheek and I would not stop until I tasted his blood. He yelled as he stumbled back, grabbing a fist full of my hair, trying to pry me off his face. The more he tried to pull me off the more of his skin tore off. He was stumbling around so much no one dared to shoot at me, in fear of hitting him.

The last thing I remembered before blacking out was the worst pain in the back of my head. I remember thinking that my brain was exposed because my vision went white as I felt myself fall into gravity. There was a ringing in my ear but I could hear the men talking while I hit the floor. I let myself blackout with the satisfaction of knowing that man will forever be reminded of me when he looked in the mirror.

-

“How will I know?” I asked Yoongi as we laid together on a lawn chair, his arm around my shoulder, we were on the rooftop of our trailer home.

“The situation will present itself in the form of an instant.” He played with the ends of my hair, thinking that I didn’t have a clue he was doing so. “A moment where nothing or everything can happen. A circumstance in which your life is decided in a matter of  seconds.”

I sat up from his side, crossing my legs at the end of the long chair and listened closely to his words.

“Death can come in many faces. It could be a person who greets you on the street or simply walks by you and smiles.” He pulled out a cigarette from its package, I leaned in and lit up the end for him pulling away from the fire as his cheeks hollow in. “But there will be something in those eyes or in that smile; that will give you goosebumps and that feeling in your gut, when you know something isn’t right.”

I took the cigarette out of his hand, while he blew the smoke from his mouth, I took a drag of the nicotine to ease my nerves.

“A fraction of a second later, one of you will be dead and the other alive. Always make sure you are the one who’s alive. It only depends on you.”

He leaned forward, taking his cigarette out of my hand- he didn’t necessarily like me smoking- or at the very least, not from his own pack.

“But believe me doll,” He tossed me a bottle of water from the cooler beside him. “It’s better for them to just kill you, instead of letting them take you in for questioning.”

“But you just said to always be the one who stays alive. Wouldn’t I have a better chance of doing that if I answer their questions?”

“The problem isn’t if you can answer their questions (Y/n), it’s if you can’t answer them. Your chances of being able to talk your way out of trouble are close to zero.”

I looked away from him, the sunset we had been watching was far into the horizon, but the stars were right above us.  

-

There was a smell of rosewood that was strong and musky. The fragrance travels slowly in the cold air that had my nose frozen. I thought the pounding in my ears was from the gun-but but I soon realized it was from a stereo base that shook the wall above me. I groaned as I lifted my head, the room was an icy purple color, which made the lights on the ceiling vibrate in contrast. It took me a few tugs from my arms to realize that I was tied to a chair by my hands and feet. The rope was wrapped around my arms and my legs like the beginning to mummification, there was no way of breaking free from it.  

“Jesus (Y/n), you’re alive.” I turned my head to the voice to my left. Hoseok was tied up to another chair in a much similar matter. His eyebrow and his nose were stained with dry blood, along with new bruises that were forming on his face.

“I don’t think that's really something to be happy about Hobi,” I said turning to my right to find Yoongi and Jungkook beside him. Yoongi was still out cold, it was obvious that Jungkook and Yoongi put up the most fighting. “How long have we been here?”

I stayed looking at Yoongi and was relieved to see his shoulders still moving ever so lightly to indicate he was still breathing.

“Hard to say because that clock over there is really just a camera. They’ve been watching us.” I looked at to where Hoseok was referring to. I had not noticed that we were seated in front of a desk that had a clock on the wall behind it. “No audio as far as I can tell.”

“They are going to kill us. ” Jungkook said more to himself than to any of us. I could tell what was going on through his head- it was the same thing that was going through Hobi’s. How were we going to die? Would it be quick or would they make us suffer? They thought about their day. What actions led them to this moment in their life. “Fuck (Y/n). Just tell me how they’re going to do it...”  

“If you’re lucky, a bullet to the head execution style,” I said ignoring Jungkook's desperate attempt for a coping mechanism to handle this death. Even if he knew the exact way he was going to die, it wouldn’t prepare him for it. No one was ever ready to die.

“And if I’m not lucky?”

“Let’s hope we don’t find out.” I was too busy looking around the room for whatever I could find that could be helpful to me. There was a door behind the desk and another pair of double steel doors behind us.

“You have a plan,” Hoseok stated. He knew me well enough to get an idea of how my mind worked.

“My plan is the same as ever and that’s to not die.” I wasn’t afraid. It seemed hard to believe even for me but Yoongi always said, that you knew when you were going to die. Your body just knew and there was no fighting it. So my body just knew that I wouldn’t let myself die today. “Just let me do the talking and maybe I can save all of us.”

“What? Do you plan to negotiate with the Kim brothers? Are you out of your fucking mind?” I rolled my eyes at Jungkook who was spitting his words at me. “I don’t know if you’ve realized this (Y/n) but we aren’t exactly in a position to negotiate!”

“Jungkook that bratty little mouth of yours has already gotten us into enough trouble. Unless you have any better ideas, I suggest you shut the fuck up!”

We all stopped at the sound of the heavy steals doors unlocking behind us. I looked over my shoulder, watching four men coming through the doors, heavily armed with AK 12s. Among them were there three from earlier at my place but the pig who’s face I bit off was not one of them. Before I noticed anything else, one of them walked behind Yoongi, dumping a bucket of ice water over his head. The water splashed off the floor, landing on my thighs proving just how freezing it was. Yoongi gasped and his eyes shot open. He searched the room around him through his wet strands of hair. I saw his face contour in pain from all of his injuries hitting him at once.

“Min Yoongi!” A voice called out from the other side of the room. From the door behind the desk walked out a handsome man, well dressed in an expensive suit; of brown hair that grew longer in the back and a golden tanned skin that brought out his blue eyes. “You’re up! How great, we have so much to talk about.”

Jimin followed out behind, closing the door and standing by the desk with his arms tucked behind him. He wore a face of indifference but his eyes roamed their way over to me before looking away like I wasn’t there. The man was surely Kim Taehyung- Miami's drug lord who Yoongi had been making business with for the past three years.

“Kim Taehyung, pleased to officially meet you Min Yoongi.” He walked himself around his desk, squatting in front of Yoongi. Who still hand his head hanging low from a killer headache that was disabling his thoughts. Kim Taehyung stuck out his hand waiting for Yoongi to take it in a formal greeting. Though, he sighed as if he was disappointed in Yoongi’s rejection. “Hm. Maybe you’d prefer if I address you as Min Suga?”

He suddenly stepped away, his back was turned to us for a moment, though I could tell he was actually reaching into the pocket inside his suit. Before I could make out whether it was a gun or not, he took a big step back in Yoongi’s direction. He grabbed a hold of his hair, forcing him to make eye contact with a bag of cocaine held in his hand.

“Isn’t that what they call you?! Hm?!”

Yoongi didn’t say anything, even though you could see in his face that he was holding his tongue. That was boring to Taehyung. He threw the open bag of cocaine at Yoongi’, the white powder flying all over his face and he had no choice but to breath it in. I saw the bag fall at his lap and the word ‘Suga’ writing on the front.

Kim Taehyung walked over to his desk, plopping a seat in the cair, licking the cocaine off his fingers. Taehyung was supposed to be the youngest of the Kim brothers, the three of them ran their own illegal business; cocaine, guns, prostitutes. It was hard to believe someone so young would already be in charge of the entire cocaine distribution in all Florida. He definitely looked the part, carried himself like the rich brat he was raised to be, but his form of communication was fiendish. He was quick to lose his temper- he was bored and impatient.

“I told you from the beginning Yoongi- not to try to fuck us over. And now...” Taehyung laughed. He reached into one of his drawers, pulling out a TT pistol, “I’m taking my coke for free.”

“I’m not giving you shit!” Bang!

I flinched seeing the bullet go into Yoongi’s leg. He let out a groan from the back of his throat and his head hit the back of the chair. He was fighting through the pain, his teeth clenched and his eyes opened looking at me. When I looked into his eyes, I usually saw heaven, but now hell was burning out of them.

“I have your cocaine.”

All eyes switched to me. For a second I wasn’t sure anymore but I only had this one chance. I watched Taehyung raise his eyebrow and a wide smile spread across his lips.

“That’s right. I almost forgot about you, honey.” He got out of his chair this time walking up to me. I could hear Yoongi fight against his ropes but I didn’t dare to break eye contact with Taehyung. I held my head up high in front of him, letting him know I was serious about the situation. “You’re the one who bit the face off of Joshua.”

“I wouldn’t have if your men knew how to treat a woman.” He smiled down at me while his hand reached out to cup my chin. He whipped dry blood from the corners of my mouth with his thumb.

“Careful boss- she might bite your hand off,” Jimin said from the place where he hadn’t moved an inch. I moved my head away from his hand, starting to feel like a dog being caressed. Jimin’s tone wasn’t necessarily worried as much of it being annoyed.

“I sure hope not. It would be a shame to have to put a bullet through such a pretty girls head.” He pressed the cold metal of his pistol against my cheek. My breath caught in my throat but I still held my gaze at him. “Such a pretty face...you could be one of Jin’s girls.”

He tailed his gun down my neck, stopping at the collar where the buttons began. He pulled his gun down hard to ripping the first two buttons off.  

“Son of a bitch- if you touch her, you’ll-” Bang!

I gasped, my eyes scattering to Yoongi to see where he got hit.

“Next bullet won’t miss Suga,” Taehyung warned. I could feel my eyes gloss with anger, my heart was pounding in my chest. He looked back down at me, closing up my shirt, before leaning in. “My apologies dear”

He turned around to walk back to his desk. I took a deep breath before sending a glace Yoongi’s way. He shook his head at me, telling me no- but I had to do what I could. It wasn’t just his life on the line- it was Jungkook’s and Hoseok's.  

“So honey, you were saying you had my cocaine. Where can I find it?” He leaned in and crossed his hands together. He placed his gun down but it was in easy reach, pointing in my direction.

“I have a proposition for you.”

A smirk appeared on his face as if he had been waiting for me to say that. I could hear Yoongi cursing under his breath but I kept my head high anyway. I was starting to lose circulation in my hands and feet. I needed to act quickly because Yoongi was still bleeding out from the bullet.

“Why would I negotiate with you for my cocaine; when I could just beat the information out of this one and kill all of you?” He said referring to Hoseok, who looked like he was about to pass out.

“Because we’re worth more alive than dead.” He laughed, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. “I can make you more money than you’ve been making in the past three years.”

“And how would you do that, exactly?” He leaned back in his chair, placing his feet up on his desk- without a worry in the world.

“By expanding your range of distribution.” Taehyung furrowed her eyebrows. He didn’t expect such an answer. “You’ve been trying to for years. You’ve asked us for larger amounts of product one month, but the next month you asked us for much less because you couldn’t sell all of it in Florida. The Latin cartels have territory around the state, so it makes it difficult for you to expand your territory without the protection of your brother's influences on the law. But I know of a way to get the coke out of the state is a large amount- unnoticed and off the grid.”

“What makes you think I want to expand the distribution? Look at what I have here- I fucking own Florida.”  He brought his feet down and stood up, his hands were flat on his desk and his smirk was wiped clean. I had him.  

“You share Florida with your brothers. You want a power that expands across state lines because you know crossing your cocaine to the westside or the eastside states will raise the prices. While the retail price per gram of coke is between $50-$100 in the United States; that price goes up to $130-$185 in Europe. That is a deal you could have easily made since your brother has ties to the Irish mafia-If I’m not mistaken, that’s how he gets his guns, right? I’m sure he would have given you that idea many times but you’ve turned it down because you want this business to expand without their help. We’ll be working with you only and all the cocaine we produce will be for your cause specifically. You won’t have to worry about how much cocaine you buy every month- we'll be in charge of that.”

“We or you? What are they any good for?” Taehyung asked taking a seat in his chair once more.

“Hoseok and Yoongi have the connections to Cuba where we buy the cocaine paste at a cheap price; by the time they are done cooking and cutting it- the price triples. But you have the connects to distribute farther than we can ever get it on our own. Jungkook- he’s loyal and can do any task you give him. He was the only person dealing the coke we had on the side, we didn’t need anybody else, because he could do it all on his own. I trust him- and I’m not someone who trusts easily.”

“And how do I trust you? You and your guys already tried to fuck me over once-”  

“Then kill us.” I cut him off. “But we don’t have anything else in this piece of shit world. No one chooses to be in this business- not even you- it’s a matter of circumstance. We don’t have anything left to lose and all we’ve ever done is try to make something out of the nothing we have. I decided a long time ago, that I wouldn’t die in poverty. I would take everything I was and buy the world that I was deprived of or- I would die trying.”

I was staring holes in Kim Taehyung's eyes and he was in mine. He ran his tongue over his lips, letting out a deep sigh. There was no sound, no movements, for what felt like hours and all I could do was wait. At some point, I don’t even know what I was waiting for. If the gun, that held a bullet with my name on it, was being aimed at me. I didn’t dare turn to look. I wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

Suddenly, Jimin moved from his stance; he leaned into Taehyung's ear. What he whispered in his ear- I didn’t know. Taehyung’s face didn’t change and he didn’t move an inch while Jimin spoke to him. All I knew was that Jimin had saved our lives.

“Well (Y/n), you’ve got yourself a deal.”

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