#fingers crossed they all survive the coming boss fight next session

[the-big-nope]

Sariel Moonbrook: Half-elven circle of the shepherd druid. Chaotic neutral leaning is on full display in that all she really cares about is getting a ship and hitting the high seas. She’s stolen a boat before and she will do it again. The Seducer, though the ocean is her only true love (so far, she’s really been hitting it off with one of the NPCs lately). Has a cat named Vanya she picked up in a bandit lair. (I wanna see just how many pets I can foist on this party before they hit their limit). 

#introducing my party! #not cr #and there they are! #it's a big group full of delightful dummies #fingers crossed they all survive the coming boss fight next session

[3centsofbutter]

Memoirs of a Medic - BNHA

Chisaki Kai / Eri

Part 1/2

“Chisaki, I’ve brought you tea”

The hallway was silent. You stood outside the metal door, tea tray in hand, patiently staring at the blank concrete wall. You were notified by Irinaka this morning that Kai was dealing with some bottom tier members, something about an incident at Minami ward under the Hassaikai name. His exact words were “Stay out of it till noon if you know what’s good for you.” You looked down at your watch.

‘10:25’

It was tea time. Regardless of what anyone said, 10:30 is when Kai liked to drink tea and no menial task such as dealing with lowlife scum was going to interrupt his daily scheduling. Everything had to be orderly, just how he liked it.

The door opened and you were faced by Hari’s apathetic expression. He greeted you with a curt nod and pointed towards Kai’s desk.

Six bodies mangled beyond recognition were slumped against the left wall. Their hands and feet were bound by thick ropes and their blood was splattered over the white walls. You sidestepped around them and placed the tray onto his desk. “Would you like me to arrange for Botan to deal with the bodies this afternoon?”

He unbuckled his mask and placed it to the side. “Yes, at four.”

He shrugged off his bloodied jacket onto his chair and peeled off what used to be white gloves, now stained red. He walked to the sink and began to wash his hands.

“Kato sit, Kuruno come here, everyone else out of the office”

You were Yasuko Kato, a childhood friend of Kai Chisaki, the infamous young Yakuza head of the Shie Hassaikai. You were the sole medic of the organisation thanks to your quirk ‘regeneration’ allowing you to transform and transfer your energy by the needle-like ends of your hair into the pressure points of your patient’s body, magnifying the healing process tenfold. You were taken in by the Previous boss at a young age and grew up under the wing of the Hassaikai, being considered main family children alongside Kai and Hari Kuruno growing up.

Irinaka threw you a side-eyed glare before bowing and leaving the office with everyone else. Hari pulled out the seat and motioned for you to sit before taking the seat next to you. It wasn’t often that Kai ever requested a meeting with you, it wasn’t necessary as you weren’t directly involved in the big operations the Hassaikai pulled, you only dealt with the aftermath.

Once the door clicked shut. Kai placed a small red box on the table. “Hari, Iku, we’ve reached the end goal.”

He opened the case and pushed it towards you. You stared at the 5 red cylindrical bullets and your eyes widened, it couldn’t be. You looked back at Kai.

“You finished it.”

Kai nodded, “I finished the formula during last Thursday’s extraction. I tested it myself on some of the goons and since then, they haven’t regained any of their quirk abilities.” He leaned back in his chair. “I think this is it.”

Hari picked up one of the bullets and held it in the light. “Does this mean we will go into mass production soon?”

“Yes, it would seem so.”

Your stomach dropped.

Kai turned to face you. “Yasuko, you know this means we will be needing your services more frequently now.”

He noticed your unnerved expression and sighed. “Yasuko you have become too attached. It is a small sacrifice that will bring back the Hassaikai name as the ruler of the underground. This is what dad would have wanted. This is what you wanted, is it not?”

You scrunched your face in disgust, “Don’t you dare bring dad into this!” You sneered, his face remained unchanged. “Please Kai, aren’t the quirk boosting drugs enough to sustain the Hassaikai name? She’s only just a child.”

“No, we-”

“We were like her once, do you have no heart?”

Kai sighed and stood up. “Stop being foolish, Yasuko. You are lucky to be who you are but this is crossing the line.” He grabbed your face and pulled it close towards his, You could feel his quirk on his fingertips, causing your skin bubble under the surface. You could smell the oolong tea in his breath. His piss-yellow eyes bore into yours.

“Nothing will stop me, not even you, so know your place and stay in it.”

You slapped away his hand and glared at him. You were powerless against him and he knew it. Kai, satisfied with your reaction, closed the box and slipped it into his pocket.  

“Hari I will see you about the Minami incident later, Yasuko take my jacket and have it washed, A six you are required at Eri’s room, understand?”

There was nothing more to say.

“Hai.”

~

It was six o’clock and you were outside Eri’s room. You could see Hari approaching with Eri slung over his shoulder. As usual, she was fast asleep, knocked out from exhaustion after Kai’s extraction sessions. You were never told what went on during those sessions but the scars that lined Eri’s body were more than enough to paint a clear picture.

“I’ll be handing her onto you now,” Hari said, passing the small child into your arms. He stared into your eyes and hesitated for a second, carefully considering his words.

“On what Kai said earlier, You shouldn’t allow yourself to get attached, It’s going to hurt you later on.”

You used your fingers to comb through a matted knot in Eri’s hair. He was right, you chose the life of a yakuza and accepted Kai as your leader. It was your duty to devote yourself entirely for your family and follow orders blindly without hesitation. But somehow this little girl wormed her way into your heart and you became attached. She reminded you too much of yourself when you were younger to let go, you couldn’t bear to see someone suffer the way you did.

You sighed and turned your back to him. “You know it already has, Hari.”

He nodded disappointedly and retreated back into the winding hallway, the echo of his footsteps becoming fainter and fainter. One you were satisfied he was long gone, you push open Eri’s door and lay her down on the bed. You pressed your hand to her forehead and winced at the temperature, she always was feverish after extractions. You took off her nightgown and took out your hairpin allowing your long black hair to fall down from your usual low bun. Your hair then took a life of its own as it strands began whizzing around, inserting themselves into the young girl’s body. You took a seat next to the bed as you felt the energy being drained from you. Using your quirk generally didn’t cause over-exhaustion, but Eri was an entirely different case. Although Kai was supposed to reassemble her body, there were limits to what he could do, or what he was bothered to do, so she was always brought to you on the brink of death. You felt yourself lapse in and out of consciousness, your eyes fighting to stay open. You let your body relax and melt into the chair.

It was going to be a long night.

~

“Yasuko, we have customers”

Liquor, broken glass, smoke

“Brighten up buttercup, no one wants a sulky bitch to give them hits”

They all had different faces, some more familiar than the rest. Their breath reeked of alcohol and tobacco, yellow teeth and dirty fingernails.

“You stupid piece of shit, IT’S LIKE YOU’RE ASKING FOR A BEATING.”

Their sinister smirk and rough hands.

"Don’t get cocky princess, you’ll never amount to anything.”

“- to-san”

“Kato-san, please wake up.”

Your eyes shot open. Eri was tugging on your shirt, eyes darting all around the room in panic. You rubbed your eyes noticing how clammy your hands were. Your shirt, soaked with sweat, stuck to your body like a second skin.

You felt disgusting.

“Sorry about that, Eri.”

She tugged the hem of her dress, “S’okay, Kato-san is okay now.”

Her innocent expression made your body instantly ripple with guilt. She didn’t deserve this, it wasn’t right. You excused yourself and went for a quick shower. Your room was next door to Eri’s, it looked exactly the same as every other bedroom in the complex. The concrete walls were painted a dull cream colour, and the floor polished wood. The room was neat and orderly, devoid of personality, much like a hotel room. The only furnishings in the room consisted of your queen sized bed, dresser and floor length mirror. A giant scroll hung above your bed, painted was the Shie Hassaikai emblem underneath printed, ‘Help the weak, fight the strong’; Kai had long since strayed from those morals. A single framed photo on top of the dresser was the only proof the room was lived in. It was a photo taken years ago when you were only ten. It was clan pride day which meant you, Kai, and Hari were all dressed in kimonos. It was taken out in the courtyard with the big boss kindly smiling into the camera with all three of you gathered around him, dango sticks in hand. Those days were now distant memories lost in Kai’s greed for power.

You undressed and looked at your reflection in the mirror, your body was lined with scars from altercations with street thugs and other kids back in your teenage years. You were reckless and brave back then daring to fight anyone who dared to talk down on the Hassaikai name. You turned around and felt the giant scar that lined your back. It had been stretched weirdly throughout the years growing with you since you were only five.

Your mother possessed the same quirk as you, the regeneration quirk that allowed her to transfer her energy into a patient to magnify the healing process. In her early 20s, she lost her job at the hospital and quickly ran out of money. She was thrown into the streets and soon had to sell her body to survive. Not long after she became homeless, she realised that her quirk could do much more than just heal, when used on a body without any physical damage it resulting in a euphoric high much stronger than that of heroin. She then began to sell herself in a different way, targeting those growing bored of regular illicit drugs. Through this, she met your biological father who became her pimp. He arranged all her customers and took away all of her earnings, she couldn’t care less, she was wildly in love with him.

Two years passed and she eventually gave birth to you. You did not remember much of your early years of life but one thing was for certain, it was not filled with love. You spent most of your time with your mother in the house where strange people would come and go everyday. The air in the room was always cloudy with smoke and smelt like wet clothes, tobacco and alcohol. You remembered sitting in the corner of the room silently watching your father count money while your mother sat on the chair next to the beaten up mattress, paper skin, cracked lips and bruised skin, sent her hair slithering into every customer who walked in through the door.

She passed away from overexhaustion when you were four which coincidentally was when you began to show signs of your quirk developing. Your father, with the loss of his main source of income immediately put you to work. You filled in the place your mother once had and became familiar with the strange faces that you once observed from the corner. Your father pumped you with drugs in order to allow your small body to keep up with demand. He relentlessly sent in customers day in and day out to keep his own addictions well funded.

When you were six, a customer got too handsy with you. He tried to touch you, take off your clothes, while your father merely just watched from the doorway. You kicked his jaw making him unhand you in disbelief. You managed to scramble away and hide behind your father. The man angered by your retaliation unsheathed a small black hunting knife from his back pocket and waved it at your father. They briefly exchanged a few words you didn’t understand, you only remember your father pushing you forwards and locking the door. You screamed and cried for help, pounding on the locked door.

He struck.

One clean cut from the bottom of your shoulder blade across your back to your hip. You curled up in a ball on the floor and shrieked. The blood soaked through your white dress spilling onto the floor. The man looked down at his knife, your blood dribbling down the blade onto his hands, and realized what he had done. Panic flooded his veins. He was a homeless druggie, not a street thug, murders happened all the time in the red light district but the death of some six year old wasn’t going to fly, someone was going to catch wind of this and he’d get caught if you lived.

That's right, only if you lived.

He stood over you, knife in hand, eyes crazed with killing intent. His breath was heavily laboured, it reeked of alcohol and weed.

He swung.

You grabbed the knife by the blade before it struck your skull and threw it to the side. Your hair took a life of its own and shot at his neck piercing the Carotid sinus. He began convulsing, foaming at the mouth and collapsed on the ground. Your hand was gushing with blood, he had cut deep into your fingers. The pain was beyond anything that you had experienced. Out of instinct your hair connected to your back and fingers slowing down the blood.

You couldn’t stay here anymore, you didn’t want to. You slid open the window and ran into the depths of the red light district, away from your father and away from the walls that held you prisoner. That’s how Kai found you, passed out in a back alley covered with blood. He was only eight back then and stood by your body protecting you from stray drunks and the odd policeman until you regained consciousness.

“I’m Chisaki Kai, I’m gonna be honest, you look pretty bad and you got hair stuck in your hand.”

“I know, I’m Kato Yasuko”

He passed you a stale loaf of bread and you told him everything that happened right from the beginning. Your mother, your father, and the handsy customer. He listened intently and comforted you as you cried. Once it was over, he took your hand and began dragging you through the backstreets of the red light district.

“Where are you taking me? I don’t want to go back there.”

“We’re gonna burn that crack house down, retard.”

“You don’t even know where I used to live!”

“Then take me there or we’re gonna be running all day, loser!”

At that moment you couldn’t think of any better alternatives so you ran with him. His short maroon hair was easy to miss, he somehow was able to seamlessly melt into the shadows of the back alleys, weaving through dumpsters and crowds of morally questionable people. But in your eyes he was so bright, like a ray of sunshine. He didn’t seem to have a care in the world, it was like he wore the title street rat with pride. For the first time in forever you felt something positive. This dingy little ill mannered child gave your broken childhood hope. But like he always did, your father anticipated your return. He sat on the old rocking chair on the front porch, cigarette in hand. Staring both of you down as you approached the house.

“I’ve been waiting on your return, princess,” He smirked, “I almost got a little worried there.”

He stood up revealing the gun he had hidden in his other hand. He beckoned you to come forward.

“You’re gonna have to leave your friend outside” his voice became sinister. “We don’t want any dirty footprints in the house.”

Your father was born quirk-less and therefore found it necessary to carry a pistol everywhere he went. Your eyes flitted to Kai, he was seemingly unfazed by the gun and held his ground. You began to panic, Kai, your saviour, was going to die from your selfishness.

“Kai I can go back you don’t need to-”

“Shut up, Yasuko. Have a little hope. Geez!”

That was it, he had gone too far. It would have been easier for you to just go back to your father and spare Kai's life, but something was holding you back from moving forward. You didn’t want to let him go, you didn’t want to go back to that life. But reality weighed onto your shoulders and you made your resolve. But before you even got the chance to move, Kai bolted.

Two shots were fired from your father’s pistol.

The first pierced his shoulder, and the second his forearm. But he didn’t stop.

The colour drained from your father’s face once he realised he was out of rounds. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he backed himself up against the wall. He held out the gun despite its worthlessness and kept repeatedly pulling the trigger to no avail. Kai stood in front of him and reached his arm out.

It wasn’t a secret that you had lived a terrible life prior to that point. You had watched your mother and customers by the hands of your father die. Fistfights and dead prostitutes were no strangers to the streets of the red light district and neither were you. But none of this could have even prepared you for what you saw.

Kai’s hand sliced through your father’s abdomen like a hot knife to butter, it almost looked as if he stuck his hand through an illusion, but the blood that spilled brought you back to reality. You considered your father to be a stoic man, he had a tough exterior and never seemed to be fazed in any situation, even in his death he never begged for his life. You watched the flesh around Kai’s hand churn like a smoothie, enveloping his entire body, turning into an unrecognizable sludge. The whole time, your father’s eyes never left yours. His eyes scorched and burned into yours, making sure his face would live to haunt you in your nightmares. The last words he mouthed were as clear as day.

"Don’t get cocky princess, you’ll never amount to anything.”

…

It was over.

“Was that the first person you’ve ever killed?”

A hesitated pause.

“Yeah.”

As Kai promised you burnt down the house alongside both bodies with matches he stole from the convenience store. He allowed you to throw the first match, casting it onto the lump of flesh that had been your father. It didn’t burn much to your dismay, but the rest of the house did, and you had never felt more euphoric as you watched the flames consume the front porch. You both made a hasty escape before anyone bothered to check up on the house and scaled a nearby three story brothel and watched the blaze from the rooftops, hand in hand.

“You’re like a hero, y’know”

“Don’t call it that.”

You and Kai lived as street rats from that point onwards. Pickpocketing drunken strangers and stealing from street vendors, sleeping in back alleys and behind dumpsters to avoid law enforcement. It was tough but you were happy; you had Kai and that was all that mattered to you. Two years later, you were brought into the Shie Hassaikai and became a faithful servant to the clan. The knife wound from that day was too deep for it to completely heal so it left a nasty scar that branded your back from that point onwards. It was a constant unpleasant reminder of your father’s cocky smirk.

“You’ll never amount to anything,”

The water began to run cold bringing you out of your thoughts, you winced at the sudden temperature change and hastily left the shower. You slicked back your hair into a tight low bun, bobby pinning the stray hairs at the base of your neck. You quickly put on a fresh change of clothes, and took one last longing glance at the photo frame before returning back to Eri’s room.

“Right, let’s go.”

You both walked in silence though the labyrinth of hallways into one of the studies. You set Eri down at the table with a wad of cash and an accounting journal, allowing her to count it for you while you worked on your own treasury work. You never got any sort of education until the Shie Hassaikai at eight which made it extremely difficult to learn any academics without the basic fundamentals implemented at a young age, you made it your job to make sure Eri had some basic education just in case she managed to escape Kai. It was wistful thinking but you were adamant that it happened.

“What comes after 129, Kato-san?”

“130”

“Thank you, Kato-san”

She was so precious that it hurt.

‘I wish i could have given you more.’

Part 2

Master list of all my stuff

A/N: I really don’t know what to say. This idea has been stuck in my mind since I watched season 4 (late to the party I know). I merged the two parts together because I didn’t think the first part would work well by itself. This is the first ever long project I’ve ever started so please bear with me, I’m used to stand alone short projects. I don’t know how I feel about this one :P. I think I’ll put this up on wattpad or something once it’s all finished. Despite that, please enjoy.

#bnha #chisaki kai #chisaki #kai chisaki #writing #mha #fanfic #fanfiction #my hero academia #my hero academy fanfiction #boku no hero academia #chisaki x reader #eri #kai x reader #chisaki kai x reader #kai chisaki x reader #overhaul #overhaul x reader #au #alternate universe

[multifandom-stranger]

4 . 10 . 16

The Broken Few Pt. 3

Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 2.1k

Warning: Mentions of violence, imagery of guns and knives, language.

If either Jaehyun, Ten, or Mark could foresee how the day would end up for them they would have known to brace themselves. The moment they entered the small restaurant Jaehyun and Ten  were on edge. Mark looked back and forth between them, instantly noticing the change in posture and expression.  It was then that he noticed a man in a blue button down shirt, a few buttons undone to expose silver chains, and wore red tinted glasses. The unknown man leaned back in his chair and looked over the three freely. Sat next to him was another man dressed more formally. He wore mainly black and grey and had a mullet. Mark leaned over to Ten and whispered to him “What’s going on?”

Ten elbowed him to shut up and gave him a look. “Promise to stay silent, okay. Unless you are spoken to.” Ten gulped and put on his best poker face. Jaehyun genuinely was a bit surprised but didn’t show it at all. The two of them were just not expecting to run into Jackson and JB. Especially since this was well into their area of the city. Jaehyun looked as if he wanted to kill them right then and there. Ten clearly saw a vein stressed on his neck from how hard he was clenching his jaw. 

“Jackson. JB. What brings you here?” Jaehyun choked out with the best impression of calm he could give at the moment. Jaehyun, Taeyong, and Yuta had all had a long string of issues with the boys in Got7. They were always having to give up what was rightfully theirs in order to survive. Jaehyun knew that but it didn’t make the situation any less rage inducing.

Jackson stood up with a half smile and lifted his glasses so that they rested on his head. “Just wanted to talk about some business. Boss man around?” He walked up to Jaehyun and placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’ve been having some… Issues lately.” 

If not for his bad habit with his jaw, Jaehyun came across as confident and assertive as he said, “No, he’s not but I’m sure we can figure some things out.” 

“I’m not so sure. It’s in your best interest that him and I work it out Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun looked back to Mark and Ten. “Can you two give him a call and get him here as soon as possible?” A single nod from the both of them was all that was needed before they headed off.

Jaehyun was left with the two opposing family members and had to make small talk in the meantime. That was not by any means a skill he possessed. However, faking it he could do. He was not genuine or warm during their conversation but he would fake it almost unnoticeably. “Might I ask what this business is about, now that the kids have gone off to play?” 

Jackson chuckled curtly as he could clearly tell there was a certain bite to his tone no matter how much he tried to hide it. Jaehyun couldn’t hide that from him. “Same issue it’s always been dear Jaehyun. Lines. Ones you’re overstepping.” 

“Any examples? Or do you plan on just playing us again?” He growled out keeping a very fierce eye contact with Jackson, one that was unyielding. 

Jackson sat back in his seat, JB silent at his side. “Ya, we made a deal you know. We won’t fuck with you or hinder any business as long as you stay the fuck away from ours.” He tilted his head and for the first time in their little session he returned Jayhun’s obvious distaste. 

“We’ll talk when Taeyong gets here.” He said curtly to end the conversation before he decked the fucker right in his face.

Ten pulled out his cell and called up Taeyong as Mark hailed a taxi for them to catch back to the house. Jaehyun had texted the both of them to make sure to stick around with the eldest boy, even when they got back to the restaurant. As they got into the taxi, Taeyong had finally picked up the phone.

“Taeyong, hey… Yeah, just like he said he’s with them at the restaurant…  yeah… Alright… We’re taking a taxi so we’ll be there in less than 5… You got it. See you in a bit.” Ten hung up and looked over to Mark. “Ever been in a fight? Or shot a gun?”

Mark was taken back at the gun part. He had been in a ton of fights, sure. He’d only shot a gun once though. Way back when he was probably too young for it to be allowed. He remembered his dad liked to go hunting. One day he took Mark with his and even showed him how to shoot a gun but it was years ago. He remembered how loud it was and how it hurt his shoulder even with his dad there to keep him steady “I can throw a punch, but I’ve only shot a Springfield rifle once. Years ago.”

“That’s something. Just be ready for a fight in there when we get back.” He took a moment to pause and sigh at the thoughts going through his head for Mark. “You’d better be ready. You’re really getting pushed right into the deep end fast.”

Mark gulped and nodded before mentally prepping. He had to keep telling himself, ‘This is real. This is real life.’ but if it meant protecting Jaehyun and Taeyonng he was ready.

When they arrived outside at the bottom of the apartment Taeyong was at the last few steps that led up to their humble abode, ready to go. As soon as the cab halted, Taeyong was on his feet and opening the door. Mark scooted over as he gave the two of them small greetings. He looked to the front to see who was driving the cab. Taeyong gave a small nod, to which it was returned. That was a sign he could speak freely and do as he wished. This driver was local.

“Okay, Ten you know the plan so I brought your favorites.” Taeyong pulled out a small gun and a karambit knife. Ten smiled at the sight of his preferred weapons of choice as he gave it a quick spin around his finger till the grip was reversed and he looked ready for one hell of an upward slash. He flicked it closed, pocketed it, and then tucked the gun away into his hoodie. He was rather proud of the DIY pocket he had made in it for the soul purpose of holding various concealed items.

Taeyong faced Mark who was surprisingly calm considering the current situation. “Had no idea what you’d prefer, so just take this for now. We’ll have you wait outside and make sure no one gets involved from outside.” Taeyong held out a Sig Sauer P938 to Mark. He would have given the kid a Glock 19 like his but the safety would go right over his head. This was better for him considering he probably knew nothing about guns.

Mark took it and took out the mag, thoughtlessly undid the slider, checked the barrel, and then put it all back together in a matter of seconds making sure to never point it carelessly and to check that the safety was still on. The youngest of the boys looked up to be met with not one, two looks of pure confusion and intrigue. “What?” Pure silence held onto the moment still. “Guns are more common in Canada. Used to go hunting. Cleaned dad’s guns for him as well.” 

The shock sat with the other two for a moment before Taeyong smirked and patted Mark on the back. “Lucked out with you, kid. Anyways, the plan is that I’ll talk with them for as long as I can but Jackson and his crew is most likely gonna get real mad real fast with how I plan to handle things. The only reason I’m cool with this at the moment is the fact that it’s Just him and JB or now. Jinyoung gives me the fuckin’ creeps.” Ten exaggerated a shiver at the mention of the name. Jaehyun and Taeyong had told stories about the Got& members. They all collectively had the worst feeling about that man.

“Mark, Ten, if shit goes south fast you get out. You run back to the house and tell the other to be on their guard from now on. Understood?” Ten nodded without hesitation but Mark hesitated.

“What about you and Jaehyun?” 

Taeyong took the hand he had left on Mark’s shoulder and gave him a small squeeze of reassurance. “We’re the last people you need to worry about. You’ll see later.”

They were just pulling up to the restaurant as Taeyong retreated his hand and looked at Mark, still holding the gun like he was probably trained to in order to get some kind of license for it, not like he was about to get into a possible shootout between families. Taeyong pulled out his own gun to show Mark what to do with it. Unlike Mark he had a concealed holster in the back of his waistband but it would still work. “Mark, like this.” He shoved the gun into the side of his waistband and then looked back up to him.

Mark laughed a bit and covered his mouth. “For real? This is some shit out of a movie. I swear to god…” He sighed out some nerves before checking the safety one last time and copying what Taeyong had shown him. This all was starting to feel rather surreal to him. How many sixteen year-olds had handguns?

All three of them let the cab as Taeyong thanked the driver by name with a smile. “Stay here. You know what to do.” And with that Mark and Ten were left outside.

Taeyong walked into the building with his game face on. Both trying to come off as charming and intimidating if possible. He prepared for the worst mentally but knowing Jackson anything could happen. “Afternoon sunshine! What’s all this about more issues popping up?” The words spilled out of his mouth with ample sarcasm and venom as he took a seat next to Jaehyun who was giving one of his worst glares yet to the two across from them. “We had agreed that Hann river is the line if this is once again a problem.”

“Ha, yeah right. You’ve been crossing the line with your fucking business all the time. I know Doyoung’s been over here quite often Yugyeom has seen him out and about.”

Taeyong found amusement in this statement. Doyoung’s family, what remained at least,  lived in that area but Jackson wouldn’t care. “So what? We can’t leave at all? You’ve come here with JB and Jinyoung before so don’t try and pull that with me.” 

The tension in the room grew thicker and thicker by the second. Jackson was leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head and keeping a firm gaze with Taeyong. Opposite him was Taeyong, arms crossed and slightly leaned over the table. JB and Jaehyun were of similar postures and expressions given the situation. 

Jaehyun finally stepped into the conversation full force. “Look, we obviously can’t come to terms with each other and that’s not gonna change. Like hell we’re backing off.”

“Give us Yangcheon-Gu.” Jackson blurted out fully confident. 

“No way in hell.” Taeyong rose to his feet and scrutinized Jackson from above. “I think we’re done here.” Jaehyun mimicked Taeyong’s actions before a laugh was heard from behind. The two both stopped in their tracks and with low-lidded eyes full of threatening hatred Taeyong looked back. 

“Walk out that door and you're declaring war. I don’t think you and your itty bitty family can handle it. Neo Tech is still just a small street gang playing itself off as a real family when it isn’t.”

Long, lightning fast strides led Taeyong to whip out his gun and lean over the table smirking down at Jackson with the barrel to his temple. JB returned the favor in an instant while Jackson sat there with a look completely void of all emotion. Jaehyun from across the room had pulled his own gun on JB as well. “Don’t you ever talk down to us like that again.” He pressed a bit harder, nudging Jackson's head till his eyes finally met With Taeyong’s. He made it a point to push off hard when he backed away, forcing Jackson’s head to snap to the side before he centered it once again.

 “You want a war?” He leaned in closer, till he was right above the fellow boss and gave him a tight lipped smile. “You got it.” With that he stormed out of the building with Jaehyun and Ten and Mark were quick to catch up. “We’ve got plenty of training to do boys.”

Author’s Note: Hiya! Just popin’ in to say I hope you’ve enjoyed if you read this far. :) Please let me know if longer parts would be better in the comments. around 5k is doable, I’d just like to know if that’s better or not. Anyways, have a good night/afternoon/morning!

#nct mafia au #nct mafia #nct u #nct 127 #the broken few

[crazy-loca-blog]

Personal Thoughts On Open Heart

When I first tried Choices, I said “I used to read this type of books (in paper, of course) when I was a kid, so let’s give it a chance… 5 minutes and then I’ll uninstall it”. And here I am, about 2 years and 45 books (and a lot of diamond purchases) later. But I never, ever felt so attached to a book as I am to Open Heart. I even recovered my forgotten Tumblr account, just to read stuff related to the book because I missed Dr. Ramsey and associates from Saturday to Thursday!

So I was just thinking about the final chapter (insert broken heart emoji here) and how there are lots of things that are still unsolved (and will probably remain unsolved or we would have like a 3-hour long chapter). It even made me think that this book was so successful that instead of shortening and rushing things (something that has been happening a lot in PB lately, let’s be honest), they may be trying to do the opposite, that is, to drag and delay some stuff as much as possible so they have plenty of interesting content for book 2 (and book 3?) as well.

I guess when the book was first released, most of us assumed the series was going to have three books, one per year: the first one would be about the competition, the second one about the MC joining the diagnostics team (after winning the competition, of course) and the third one about the MC finishing the residency and, of course, the wedding. But after the massive success of Open Heart and the lots and lots of things we want to know about every single character in this book, I’m beginning to wonder how many questions will be answered in chapter 17 and how many things will be left unsaid and unknown until book 2 arrives. So I had to make a summary a draft a list a long post the longest post I can think of now regarding the things I think will happen in the near future… or the things I WANT to happen in chapter 17 and in book 2 (or even afterwards, fingers crossed so we can get a book 3)…

The hearing: I’ve been trying to think about how things will go in chapter 17. For some reason, I think the tricks Ethan talked about when we saw him before the hearing are related to that empty chair the MC noticed in chapter 15. We know that the chair belongs to Naveen, so probably when he retired, that spot was meant to be Ethan’s. Also, we all saw Ethan quitting… but did he “officially” submitted his resignation to the board or was it just a verbal thing? I’m pretty sure that PB would have given us a scene with him taking his stuff out of his office, but that didn’t happen hasn’t happened yet. Also, we know there are 8 chairs, so my guess is that after 7 votes our MC will be losing the case… and that’s the moment where Ethan will come to the rescue to submit the 8th vote and make things even. So will there be a cliffhanger at the end of book 1? Who knows… part of me would love it because it would be a different and unexpected ending (we already know we don’t need a closure because we’ll be having a second book)… but I don’t know if I can wait months to discover what happened in the end. It would also be nice to see some type of unexpected plot twist during the hearing, as for example Aurora testifying for us or the snake Landry publicly recognizing that he sabotaged the MC, putting in danger the patients and ruining the MC’s reputation among the nurses.

The competition: since the snake’s Landry’s episode, we haven’t heard much about the competition. As Jackie said, with Naveen and Ethan out of the picture, there isn’t even a diagnostics team to join, so that made me think that PB is not even going to try to finish the competition in book 1, they’ll carry it to book 2 (Two books covering only the first year? That would be awesome, as it makes me dream of more than 3 books on the horizon… “a girl can dream”, said certain MC in chapter 10).

The hospital: Naveen is retired (and we still don’t know if he’ll live)… Ethan quit… Harper hates her current job. I’m guessing that book 2 will be all about chaos in the administration of Edenbrook. And for some reason, I can see Declan Nash and the contract that Ethan had to sign involved in all this mess (I’m guessing Panacea Labs will be our real PITA in this series).

Backstories: we know so little about our friends/LIs lives outside the hospital and about their past! We know that our beloved and hot smart ass Ethan (insert heart emoji here) doesn’t have a good relationship with his family, but we don’t exactly know what happened there. We also know that there might be something about Bryce and his family, and that’s why he decided to be as far from them as possible. We know about Elijah’s childhood and his parents being on medical debt, but it would be huge to be able to learn more about the difficulties he must face every day as a person in a wheelchair. We are just getting to know Aurora and how hard it is for her just to be herself because of her family name (I’d love to see her kicking some asses and showing everyone that she’s there because she deserves it, not because she’s Harper’s niece). The only thing we know about the MC is that there is a brother somewhere in the universe. But we still don’t know anything about Landry, Jackie, Sienna or Kyra’s past, so I expect to have a book 2 full of backstories.

The new roommate: that will have to be solved by the end of chapter 17 or in the first chapter of book 2 (because we have to pay the rent!). I definitely don’t want the snake Landry our old roommate to return to the apartment (does anyone want it that way, actually?) and I definitely see Bryce as the natural choice to fill that spot, I don’t see any other option.

The patients: of course we’ll keep receiving new cases in book 2, but I’d love to see PB giving some special treatment to Kyra. We do know that her fight is a long one and I’d love to see the MC right next to her every step along the way not only as her doctor, but as her friend. I’m still not sure if she is a LI or not, but I wouldn’t like her to be one or to become one in the near future. Don’t get me wrong, I love her, but right now I see the Kyra/MC relationship being the equivalent to the Dolores/Ethan relationship and even though I don’t want this to happen because it breaks my heart, I may see the same outcome in both cases, especially after Ines told Kyra that her survival chances were ridiculously low (insert broken heart emoji here).

New LIs: OK, so most of us have already chosen our fave LI (team Ramsey for life here… my heart, soul and body belong to him, please don’t let my boyfriend read this) so probably book 2 will be the one where we will make things official and become more serious about our relationships (especially if you’re dating Bryce, Rafael or Jackie… it took less than 2 chapters for Ethan and the MC to look like a married couple already so I think there isn’t anything to discuss there). But we definitely need at least one more LI and it has to be a female. My votes go to Aurora (I can see it like the Becca/MC relationship in TF series) and Sienna (just because she’s the sweetest!).

New relationships: again, now that we all are dating our fave LIs and living the honeymoon phase, what about some of our friends and LIs that received a “thank you, next” answer from us? We’re already shipping Elijah/Phoebe (even though they are not in a serious relationship yet, I can totally see him moving to her apartment at some point in book 2) and Sienna/Danny (like please PB! I’d be so happy if by the end of book 1 they go on a date! I need that thing to happen like NOW!). I’d personally LOVE to see Bryce dating Harper… I can totally see him dating an older woman (and of course I can see Harper having a hot toy boy in her life) and they’d be such an unstoppable power couple! We know he admires her a lot professionally speaking, but taking things to the next level would be like living the Ethan/MC love story all over again (except that I don’t think Harper sets boundaries as Ethan did tried to do). I’m also hoping for Ines and Zaid to confirm during chapter 17 if they are a thing or if they’re just friends… I think most of us ship them and a lot of people assume they’re already in a relationship as they’re seen together like everywhere… maybe we’ll have to play matchmaker once again in book 2? And if I have to choose some type of crazy match I’d say Aurora and Jackie. Can you image how they’d flirt? We wouldn’t even know if they are throwing shade or complimenting each other, but they’d love each other in their own twisted way.

Gossiping sessions with Sienna: this is simple: I always knew Sienna was going to become our bestie sooner or later, and I’ve been dreaming about a gossiping session with her since she told us she wanted to know every little dirty detail about that trip to Miami (has anyone written a fanfic about that conversation? that would be so awesome!). Please PB, just make it happen!!

Ethan: last but not least. No matter if he’s your LI or not, this man is a topic by himself. You just can’t deny he’s one the best characters that Choices has created so far (if not the best one… his character development is just amazing) and that he’s the main reason why we are so obsessed with this book. I’ll focus on him as a LI as well because that’s the route I took. I’m really hoping to see him returning to Edenbrook this week, after saving Naveen (please PB, give Ethan a break and let Naveen live! He’s had enough suffering already!), saving our MCs ass at that hearing and recovering his confidence as an attendant. If he returns, his biggest conflict in book 2 has to be how to be able to keep a relationship with the MC and being our mentor and our boss at the same time. He is madly in love, so this will be a constant struggle! There is also what I call “the Harper factor”. The reason why Ethan and Harper broke up was because she became his boss. Now Ethan is facing the same situation, but he is taking Harper’s place as the boss. How will she react? How will he explain to Harper that he’s doing exactly the same thing they used as the excuse for their breakup a year ago? Will we have another Harper/MC tense interaction in book 2 where they both will talk about Ethan? I’m seriously waiting for it to happen. Despite this, I’d love to see a kind of hidden relationship between them (I don’t remember PB doing that before) until they can’t just hide it anymore because it’s too obvious or because someone caught them (let’s face it, both the MC and Ethan fail miserably when they try to hide their feelings). I think something like this could work in this very specific case because no matter who your LI is, our MC tends to be a super private person and I don’t know if after all the things that happened in book 1 we would want to keep being the favorite topic in the nurses’ gossiping sessions. Wedding bells? Of course, but not yet… I even think the engagement may take place in book 3 (if we get there). Will we meet Jenner? I don’t think so, at least not yet (insert broken heart emoji here). A few days ago I realized that if you didn’t do the diamond scene or if you didn’t choose the option where Ethan talks about Jenner, you have no idea that he has a dog. Just do something about it, PB!!!!

#playchoices #open heart #openheart #choices open heart #open heart choices #oh #ethan ramsey #dr ethan ramsey #casey valentine #sienna trinh #elijah green #jackie varma #landry olsen #bryce lahela #rafael aveiro #aurora emery #harper emery #ines delarosa #zaid mirani #naveen banerji #kyra santana #edenbrook #bryce x mc #mc x bryce #rafael x mc #mc x rafael #jackie x mc #mc x jackie #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc

[a-jynx]

Started With A Tease - Part 1: Sioux Falls High

Summary: Two boys in two completely different worlds, yet somehow… They are able to collide. Their green and blue eyes meeting for the first time, but they’re able to tell they’ve met before, only not like this. Not like it was only the two of them in the whole galaxy - but that’s where it started.. It started with a tease.

Warnings: Cursing, Highschool, mentions of smoking and drinking, mentions of drugs, heavy make-out sessions, mentions of sex, fighting, blood, mentions of child abuse, runaways, two different worlds collide into one. Destiel!!!

Pairing(s): Dean x Cas, Sam x Reader

Tags: @waywardnewcomer @iliketowrite02 @laceyn-1201 @supernatural-teamfreewillpage @casiskween @i-hear-crazy-calling-my-name @sandlee44 @dillpicklesunflowerseed @redmoon261 @closetspngirl @samammybee13 @ughs-posts @1967mph

Enjoy! Feedback is the glue to my writing!

Highschool. Some kids fell in love with it, whilst others dreaded it or even wished to damn the building to hell. Sadly, that was unlikely to happen since this is the real world - not some fantastic, fake reality that made everything seem almost - perfect.

Well, almost…

“Sam! Samuel!” I called after my boyfriend, mentally cursing his long legs as he came to a halt, his eyes lighting up as they met my figure jogging towards him.

“Morning babe, I’m guessing either you slept in over alarm clock, or you forgot to set it.” Sam grinned as I frowned rolling my eyes as he placed a wet kiss on my cheek, making me grin instantly.

“First, good morning. Second, I hate you and everything you stand for, Winchester.” I growled as he scoffed, wrapping one of his Nile River long arms around my waist as we started to walk again; my mind suddenly caught up with me as I looked around, noticing Dean wasn’t with us.

“Where’s the grump? I thought he said he would drive us today?”

Sam looked down before sighing and frowning as I rolled my eyes already realizing what was happening. “He seriously ditched us again? For who this time - was it that girl from my Instagram? Monica!?” I began to list off different girls from school that I followed as Sam stopped walking, this causing me to stop as I began to count on my fingers how many girls I was actually naming.

“Babe - he has practice.” Sam chuckled as I stopped ranting, looking up at him as I frowned before feeling my face begin to heat up dramatically.

“Well.. Thanks for telling me after I basically called him a jerk.” I rolled my eyes as he laughed, wrapping his arm around me as we began to walk again.

And that’s how most of our days started.. Sam and I walking to school or waking up early enough to where Dean would be practically forced to take us, but secretly I think he liked dropping us off. He just would never say it out loud.

Of course, this went on from Freshman year to now, our Senior year in high school... It’s so surreal to think about how we started as small kids hoping that we’ll just survive the hallways with the herds of trampling big kids, to now being the herds of trampling big kids.. It was, again, bizarre.

The fall had already taken over Sioux Falls, South Dakota, with bone-chilling winds that just blew past you and almost left you hallow. Thus, allowing the Sioux Fall Falcons to get a jump start in their football season - which is a relief.

Our small town went practically insane at the thought of teenage boys tackling other teenage boys for pigskin on artificial grass - and if you couldn’t tell, I don’t really care about football, but I go for Dean.

Sam and Dean had moved to Sioux Falls at the beginning of our Freshman year, and we instantly connected, or at least Sam and I did, then here comes Dean to be one of my best friends.

Ever since then we’ve been together - the dangerous trio. Sam, Dean, and I protected each other as if the world was ending. If someone even looked at one of us wrong, the other two would tear them a new one.. That’s how I met Castiel or Cas.

“So, are we still on for date night tonight, or no?” I asked as Sam grinned, and nodded as we crossed the soccer field before turning towards the football field, seeing the boys with their tight white spandex on with their baggy practice uniforms with their helmets slamming against the fake players.

“Yeah, we’re still on. Unless you want to go to the game tonight, then go tomorrow night?” Sam shrugged as I turned my attention up towards him and shrugged gently as he squeezed my shoulders into his side as we walked until reaching the front of the school - that’s when I saw it.

A boy with dark hair trying to grab his bag from two large Seniors as they played keep away with it. I clenched my jaw as I felt a sudden tug towards him; unraveling my arm from around Sam’s waist, I moved down the sidewalk as Sam called after me.

“Hey! Pinheads!” I called at the trio as they all turned towards their attention towards me, as they paused their actions as the bag hung between them. They turned their heads towards each other before throwing them back and laughing as I snarled, pinching my lips together as I marched towards them, Sam right behind me.

“What’d you want, Shrimp?” One growled as I arched a brow, not recognizing his voice as I crossed my arms over my chest before huffing a breath.

“I want to know what the hell you think you’re doing to this guy - you’re Seniors, act like it!” I snapped as they jumped slightly, only to clench their fists as I narrowed my eyes, daring them.

“You’re not our boss, Shrimp.” The other spat as Sam moved forward, dropping his arm around my shoulders as I growled, feeling my face grow hot, and steam practically pumping out of my ears.

“Call me a shrimp one more time! I dare you!” I spat as Sam tightened his grip on me, warning me of my temper as I huffed before reaching out and yanking the messenger bag from the two morons’ grips, causing them to release it by the sudden yank.

“Dumbasses.” I spat before walking towards the guy and grabbing his shoulder, leading him away as Sam took the backside, making sure the two pinheads didn’t follow us back towards the school.

Once, we reached a safe spot I sighed and looked over the bag as I grinned, turning my head towards the guy as I was met with bright blue eyes as dark hair swept over his eyebrows, covering one of them easily as I smirked, handing the bag towards him.

“Here. Next time, just kick them in the dick-”

“Or, just keep walking.. Especially if you don’t want to get suspended..” Sam sighed with a warning tone in his voice as I gently rolled my eyes and turned them back towards the guy, who looked sheepish...

“Names Y/N, and this is my boyfriend, Samuel-”

“It’s just Sam.. You’re that new exchange student, aren’t you?” Sam grinned at him as he nodded once, causing me to smile wider.

“Awesome! Where are you from?” I asked as I moved to lean against the small brick wall that stood beside Sam. The guy cleared his throat as I arched a brow towards him, as he sighed, that’s when he spoke - a deep, thick voice left him as I grinned before side-glancing towards Sam, who looked confused.. I mean, who wouldn’t be?

“I’m from a small town called, Heaven.” He shrugged before digging through his bag, pulling out his phone, probably to glance at the time as I nodded.

“Sounds like a nice little place - what’s your name?” I nodded towards him as Sam leaned against the wall next to me, his arm resting on top of it as the blue-eyed boy cleared his throat again.

“Castiel, but I like to be called Cas.” He grinned before it fell, I smiled as I moved towards him, patting his shoulder as the bell screamed from the large building as many other students began to file inside.

“Well, Castiel, or Cas.. Welcome to Sioux Falls High, a place where all your dreams go to die.” I squeezed his shoulder before moving away with a wink, walking towards the building as I glanced back waiting for Sam, who stood next to Cas; who looked absolutely petrified.

“Hey, don’t worry about what she said - she’s.. Special like that. But, welcome and if you need anything just look for me and Y/N.” Sam nodded as he walked away, his hand lacing with mine as he frowned down at me.

“What?”

“You are the worst.” He sighed as I chuckled, winking at him as we climbed the stairs and entered the cool, yet overly crowded hallway. “Eh, payback for earlier, Sammy.” I grinned as we squeezed each others’ hands, silently telling each other that we’d talk later as we separated and wandered to our first hour.

I thought back to Cas, my mind already wondering just how strange this new year could get. I mean, a dark-haired boy named after an angel comes in from a small town called, Heaven? Heh, next someone will be telling me that one of my best friends are secretly into the same sex or something like that…

But, this is Senior year…. Anything and everything could happen.

Part 2: Coming Soon 

#Destiel #Dean x Cas #highschool AU #Football player Dean x Outcast/newbie Cas #Sam x reader #SPN #SPN FANDOM #SPN Family #spn fanfic #spn series #tags are open #sorry if poorly written; I did most of this under stress :/

[angelia-dark]

The Price of Kindness, Part 3

The Request:  The Swap Brothers get stuck in Fell, and as a repayment, Stretch becomes Edge’s pet.

Part 2

Word Count: 4312

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Stretch wanted nothing more than to go home more than when he wanted nothing more than to return to Edge's side.

It was too much to handle, emotionally or psychologically.  The vileness of the situation was mixing into the physical desire and pleasure like oil and water, leaving Stretch feeling completely torn after every session.

Edge wasn't kidding when he said he'd make use of the rest of Stretch. Every time was different, but none very pleasant...emotionally, anyway.  Stretch hated how Edge was able to make him ENJOY it.

There was the degradation and the humiliation, naturally...but Edge seemed to go out of his way to make his touches light and sensual, to keep his voice as a low, guttural purr, keep his movements slow, firm, and UNBEARABLY restrained.

It was humiliating, craving Edge's touch and wordlessly begging for more night after night and leaving for the basement after, almost always unsatisfied in return.

Stretch found himself tucked in the corner of the basement more than once, gagging himself by biting his hoodie as he fondled his pelvis in an attempt to relieve himself of the arousal that Edge was never kind enough to satisfy.  He felt shamed that he couldn't force himself to do so in front of Edge but rather down in the basement with his brother within spitting distance.

He supposed that's what made him break the most cardinal rule of all: Don't leave the house without Edge.

The opportunity arose when Red was away at Grillby's, Blue was taking a nap, and Edge was going out to run an errand.  Stretch managed to find a pack of cigarettes that belonged to Red hidden under the couch cushion and the intense desire for a smoke (or two) had him going outside and back around the house, flicking open the lighter and lighting one up.

GODS, it felt great to have that buzz going again, he thought in ecstasy as he savored the cigarette in long, drawn-out drags.  This was well worth whatever punishment the edgelord could come up with later.

He was halfway through the cigarette when he became aware of the presence of LV—more than one of it—and he looked up in time to see at least four Monsters step out into view.  Just at glance, he recognized this universe's version of his buddies Chester the Hare Monster and Doggo, and the other two were either too changed or completely different Monsters than who he knew.  None of them, he felt, were at all what he felt to be familiar or safe.

“Lookie here boys,” Doggo growled, his tongue lapping at his sharpened teeth.  “A nice fresh set of bones to chew on.”

“I dunno, Doggo,” Chester muttered.  “A Skeleton Monster, an' near th' Lieutenant's house?”  His nose twitched.  “...he smells like him too.”

Stretch's teeth clenched around his cigarette, his hand twitching to fight his way out when his arm was wrenched behind him by one of the Monsters in a grip with intent that threatened his HP.  It was a warning that kept him from struggling; this was Fell, and these Monsters were no different than Edge when it came to intent to dust.

Doggo leaned in closer, growling through his teeth.  “Trying to pull one over on us, chew toy?”  He took Stretch's jaw in his paw, the claws digging in just enough to be painful.  “I'm wondering which of your bones will be tastiest to chew on first.”

“Let me go!” Stretch hissed, jerking his jaw from Doggo's grasp, his hoodie shifting to show the collar looped around his cervical bones. Out of the corner of his eye socket, he saw Doggo visibly pause at the sight of it, claws twitching as though wondering what to do next. The pause was only for a moment, and then Doggo grabbed Stretch's skull with one hand and jerked it to the side, showing off a length of neck vertebrae.

“I think we'll start here,” Doggo growled, visibly salivating as he leaned in, jaws parting.  Stretch froze, his soul hammering wildly in his rib cage as he braced himself for pain and possible dusting, but the pain never came.  

Instead, the hold on him was thrown off as sharp bones tinged in red magic flew out of nowhere and impaled the Monsters, eliciting yelps and howls from them.  Stretch dropped to the snow, his bones rattling from shaking as a sharp staccato of snow-crunched footsteps approached and Stretch saw a pair of familiar red boots in his line of vision.

The homicidal aura permeating the area was more of a giveaway than the boots, and Stretch felt his soul shrivel at the deadly tone Edge spoke with.  “You backwater pissants are even more dimwitted and brainless than even I could imagine!” he snarled.  Stretch wondered about Edge's actual anger for only a moment before his hoodie was yanked up, showing off his collar.  “Did you not SEE this, you simpering bitch!?” Edge snapped at Doggo.  “I would think a DOG would know better than to touch someone else's property!”

Doggo's slumped form looked torn between heeling and hackling, his expression stubborn but fearful.  “We didn't do ANYTHING to him!” he growled, letting out a yelp when Edge kicked his side.

“Only because you were caught, you idiot!”  Edge grabbed the bone impaling Doggo's shoulder and twisted it hard before pulling it out, not bothered by the Dog's keen of pain before he kicked him again. “You have five seconds to get out of my sight, or be damned what Captain Undyne will say, she's losing a Dog in her ranks.”

Doggo didn't need any further prompting as he scurried off, stumbling in the snow and leaving red stains as he went.  Edge grabbed Stretch's hoodie again, pushing him into something solid and Stretch instantly recognized Red's arms hastily curl around him to prevent him from falling.  

“Get him inside the house!” Edge barked to his brother.  “And get him changed out of those clothes.  I can smell those disgusting cigarettes on him.”  He turned away from Stretch and Red, focusing instead on the remaining three Monsters with no intention at all to give them the mercy he'd shown Doggo.

Stretch wasn't left to ponder the repercussions for even a moment as Red pulled him inside and shut the door behind him, silently moving them both upstairs and into the bathroom, shutting that door too before his frame finally relaxed.

“You got off fuckin' lucky, Stretch,” Red remarked, reaching out and tenderly prodding at the arm Stretch had pulled behind him.  “You break or dislocate anything?”

“N...no,” Stretch muttered.  “Just a little sore, that's all.”  GODS he needed another cigarette.  

Red sighed.  “Good,” he said, then slid off Stretch's hoodie in one quick motion, tossing it into the laundry pile Blue hadn't gotten to yet before examining the arm and shoulder anyway.  “Boss was gonna completely flip his shit if you got so much as bruised...”

Stretch couldn't help the bark of laughter that rattled his frame.  “THAT wasn't him 'losing his shit'?” he asked weakly.  Red gave him a look that plainly said 'are you fucking serious'.

“THAT was Boss in a charitable mood, considering th' circumstances,” Red replied, putting Stretch's arm down.  “You don't ever touch a Monster's property.  It's just not done.”

Stretch's hand unconsciously touched the collar around his cervicals before he forced it down, his cheekbones burning at the knowledge that Red KNEW.  “Fuuuuuuuuuuck....” he muttered, rubbing his face. “Property?  The fuck is even WRONG with this world!?”

“Hey, don't knock th' system,” Red replied, crossing his arms.  “It works down here.  Weak Monsters....Monsters with soft souls and innocent consciences...they have no hope of survival unless they're under the possession of stronger Monsters that have status in th' Underground.”  He paused, reaching under his collar and hooking his finger around a red collar and tugging it up to show.  “What, you think this is just for decoration?  Down here, it's my LIFELINE.”

He tucked the collar away, shoving his hands in his pockets.  “Kinda felt jealous that Boss got one for ya.  And yours is nicer too.” He gave Stretch a lewd grin.  “Betcha get all the nice perks of servitude too.”

Stretch felt a rush of embarrassment and humiliation; had Red KNOWN about this the whole damn time!?  Oh gods, did BLUE know!?

“Blueberry's in the dark, cool yer bones,” Red said.  “An' just deal with it a little longer.  It's all you CAN do down here.”  He gathered up the laundry, opening the door and giving pause.  “...Boss is down there dusting Monsters for touching you, Stretch,” he said.  “You might think it's humiliation, but down here, that's the sincerest form of flattery you could fuckin' IMAGINE.”  

He left the bathroom, and Stretch sat back in grim contemplation before stripping off the rest of his clothes and turning on the shower.

The hot water drummed against his cold bones yet it did nothing to warm him up.  He could only think of what could have happened if Edge hadn't been there.  Of how much worse it could have been had he not had this collar around his neck bones.

This was an uncomfortable revelation to him, that he was being kept safe and untouchable with Edge's methods, and it didn't seem to be completely for Edge's own amusement and pleasure.  Blue being kept inside and out of sight, Stretch having a badge of ownership on him at all times; Edge was PROTECTING them.  

…..............it sucked.  It really, REALLY sucked.

Stretch finished rinsing his bones and turned off the water, grabbing a towel and drying his bones off, turning to his clothes with intent to put them back on despite being dirty when the bathroom door opened.

Edge gave Stretch a quick once-over, glancing at Stretch's hand reaching for the clothes.  “They're dirty,” he said shortly.  “Leave them for Blue.”  He turned on heel and headed toward his bedroom with clear intent for Stretch to follow.  Stretch did so, his hands clenching tightly around the towel as a last shred of modesty as he tailed Edge into the room.

Much like the rest of Edge and his demeanor, the room was dark and pin-tidy with nothing out of place.  It hardly seemed personalized and rarely used, which Stretch figured was the case, as many late times Edge was out at work.  He stood awkwardly to the side as Edge rifled in the closet and brought out a black tank top and a pair of worn jeans.  

“They're old, but they should fit,” Edge said, handing them over.  “And you had best not get that disgusting cigarette smell on them.”

Stretch numbly reached out and took them, giving them a quick feel with his phalanges before tugging them on; the denim was light and very worn-in and the same felt of the tank top.  The outfit was very comfortable, if not leaving him feeling slightly exposed with the threadbare make of the material.  He smoothed the tank top with his hands, and got the sudden realization that it was leaving the collar out on display.  His hand shot up to it and as if getting the message, Edge spoke up.

“Your filthy hoodie will be clean before tomorrow,” he said shortly. “Not that you should even worry about it.”

That was true; the collar WAS a literal saving grace in this world and having it on display was safer than keeping it tucked down the collar of his hoodie.  Thinking about what could have happened then seemed almost WORTH his brother seeing and asking questions.  

“....why are you doing this?”

Edge looked up from tidying his closet, glancing back at Stretch with dim red eyelights. “What do you mean?”

“Don't bullshit me,” Stretch muttered, rubbing his arm.  “You don't HAVE to do anything like this in Fell, do you?  It's no trouble for YOU if me an' my brother dust here.  It's YOUR universe.   And nothing good here is given for free, even to your own damn family.”  He sat down hard on the bed, all fight and strength leaving him.  

“...so what is it?  My humiliation?  Holding something over my head?  Just wanting a new outlet for your cruelty?”  He rubbed his face, his shoulder slumping.  “...what does any of this mean?”

There was nothing but silence in the room for the longest time before Stretch heard footsteps cross the floor and was suddenly pinned back on the bed, staring up into those cold red eyelights.

“You're so close and yet so blind to things, ash trash,” Edge growled, his hands clasping Stretch's forearm bones.  “You're right.  Kindness has a price here, and the price for it depends on the Monster.  I may be cruel, but I am not unfair.

“My brother would be dust without me.  His HP is handicapped, he's a godsdamned drunk, and if left alone he'd be devoured without mercy.” He hooked a finger into the collar ring, tugging it lightly.  

“When others see this, they know to whom Sans belongs, and the price they pay by touching him.  Do you really think if I was so cruel, I would bother letting him wear it?  I passed that same kindness to you.  You and your brother are under my protection while you are here.  It would make no difference if you were outside smoking your disgusting cigarettes or inside on your knees.”

Stretch felt a surge of indignation swell in his soul.  “Then why the fuck would you make me, you ass!?” he snapped.  “What was the POINT of it!?”

Edge grinned.  “You haven't figured it out yet?” he asked.  “Even Sans could have told you; I'm a narcissist, and I happen to enjoy seeing a side of myself I could never indulge in.”  He took Stretch's jaw in his hand, a red ectoplasmic tongue slithering from between his teeth.  “And I must say, I do look good on my knees.”

Stretch's indignant retort was cut off with a rough kiss, one that was forceful and passionate enough to make him submit.  Accept.  Reciprocate.  

Gods, he hated himself.

Edge scraped his sharpened teeth over Stretch's mandible, a growl rattling his frame.  “You might have a Papyrus's pride, trash,” he said, “but you're too much like my brother to not be able to see through.”  He gave the collar another tug.  “Sans gave up feeling shame for giving up control long ago.  And that's what YOU want too, and you know it.  You want to stop shouldering everything...you want to give in, and give someone else the reins to your life.”

He nuzzled the side of Stretch's skull, grinning.  “Just give in.”

Stretch stared up at the dark ceiling, not knowing if he should laugh or cry or scream or maybe all three at once because damn if that wasn't accurate in every way.  

And he hated himself.

So fucking much.

Even more now that he turned his head to Edge's and kissed him.

He was already in hell.  How much farther could he fall by consorting with the devil?

Despite the harshness of Fell, the early morning hours were almost peaceful. The late crawlers were finished with business and the day workers had yet to get their day started, so it left the window between making coffee and Edge leaving for work open for quiet.

Stretch was loathe to get such early starts in his own universe, but the atmosphere of Fell left him savoring the peace before the rest of the Underground woke up to get the malice underway.  He took the time to get the coffee started and take the first cup for himself, reflecting over the previous night.

It had been humbling to the point of degrading.  It had been rough.  It had been loveless.

But gods above and below, Stretch hadn't wanted it to end.

It almost seemed like it hadn't, since Stretch even woke up in the edgelord's bed so who KNEW when it had really ended?  

Stretch sipped his coffee silently, not even noticing he had an audience until it made physical contact with him.  He nearly spewed on his sip of coffee when gloved hands curled around his iliac crests.  

“You're getting more prompt with your morning coffee, ash trash,” Edge growled, grinning.  “Good job.”

Stretch felt a flush from his skull to his collarbones, his hands trembling as he fixed Edge up a cup, adding in the perfect amount of sugar to satiate the edgelord before handing it over.  Edge took it and sipped from it, giving Stretch a smoldering look over the rim.  “You learn quick when given the proper...incentive.”  He lowered the cup, leaning closer.  “I wonder what incentive it would take to get you to cook for me.”

He reached up and tipped Stretch's jaw up with his fingertips, kissing him lightly.

“....Papy?”

Stretch and Edge turned around sharply, seeing Blue standing in the basement doorway, his cerulean eyelights wide and flicking back and forth between the two Papyruses.  “....what is going on?”

Stretch's mind went into panic mode as he mentally flailed for something to say—some excuse he could use—!—when Edge's arm casually slung over his shoulders and pulled him close.

“Oh, good morning Blue,” Edge greeted, his tone smooth as the coffee in his cup.  “Your brother made coffee, if you want some.”

Blue's eyelights continued to shift between the two.  “....okay...” he said slowly.  “But....what was....you two were just...”

“...bro, I...” Stretch stammered, settling on telling a half-truth when Edge interrupted with,

“We're dating.”  

Edge casually sipped his coffee again, unaffected by the gaping of the two Swap brothers.  “We got to know each other a little better, and even began getting along.”  He gave Stretch a smile that was in no way, shape, or form loving or tender, but Stretch couldn't help the flush that spread over his cheekbones.

Of ALL the things for Edge to say, WHY did it have to be THAT!?

“Well that's good!”

Wait, what?”

Blue shut the basement door behind him, smiling.  “It's good that you're finally getting along!” he chirped.  “I knew you two could, if you just gave each other a chance!”  His expression went stern, his hands going to his hips.  “But don't think for a second you're going to be distracted with dating.  Just because you like each other now doesn't mean you're going to be canoodling all the time.  It's simply indecent!”

“Perish the thought,” Edge said, though he looked close to actually laughing.  “I wouldn't want Stretch slacking off, now would I?” He gave Stretch a lewd look before draining the rest of his coffee cup and putting it on the counter.  “Until later.”  He headed out of the kitchen and to the stairs, shouting for Red to get a move on before he wrote him up for lateness.

“It's good you're finally getting along, Papy!” Blue said, smiling.  “I knew they were really good deep down.  And now you have a datemate!” He started tidying up the kitchen.  “Ahh, little brothers grow up so fast...”

Stretch just stood there, emotionally numb and mentally fizzled out.  He had no answer for his brother.  He had no retort for Edge's falsification.  

He had nothing.

“Give me a minute to grab a damn coffee, ya slave driver!” Red groused to Edge as he walked into the kitchen.  “Yo, Blueberry, give me one to go.”

“You COULD say 'please' one of these days, Red!” Blue admonished, but conceded in rifling among the cabinets for a thermos to put the coffee in.  While his back was turned, Red silently and smoothly crossed the kitchen for an apple on the table and slipped a folded-up piece of paper into Stretch's hand before grabbing the cup as soon as it was handed over.

“SANS! HURRY UP!”

“KEEP YER ARMOR ON, BOSS, I'M COMING!”  Red glanced at Stretch with an expression that said quite a few things before turning and heading out of the house with his brother, the sound of several locks signifying another day out at work for them.

“Red needs some manners,” Blue huffed before heading to the stairs to get laundry started, leaving Stretch by himself in the kitchen with the note.

Stretch flexed his hands for a moment before unfolding the paper and reading it.

it's finished.

His soul pounded in his rib cage, adrenaline pumping through his frame with newfound purpose and urgency.  Shoving the paper into his pocket, he bolted upstairs and found Blue fetching laundry from Red's room, not pausing before scooping his smaller brother up in his arms.

“HEY—Papy, what gives!?”

“We're leaving, Blue,” Stretch said, rushing downstairs and fumbling with the locks on the back door to get them open.  

“Papy, what's going on?  Why....what happened?  What—“

“Sans, just shut up for five seconds, I promise we'll talk when we're home!” Stretch got the door open and quickly made his way to the shed, hurrying to the machine and seeing that Red obviously did the finishing touches on it whilst he was—

NO. LATER.

Stretch felt his skull perspire as he quickly typed in coding and felt a wave of euphoria when the machine started up smoothly.  He quickly situated himself into it, holding his brother to him tightly.

“Papyrus, talk to me!” Blue cried, sounding incredibly worried.  “I thought everything was okay!”

Stretch said nothing, only tightening his hold on Blue as the world around them disassembled and faded them into the Void.

EPILOGUE

In the end, Stretch knew he could never tell Blue everything.  That just wasn't an option, ever. Eventually Blue stopped asking questions and set to readjusting to life back in his own universe, all too quickly picking up where he last left off as puzzles, training, and cooking became the norm once more.

If only it was that easy for Stretch to forget and move on.  Every day, every moment, he was plagued by the memory of what had happened, unable to get the sensations to wash off of his bones no matter how hard he tried.  None of his usual vices could overshadow what Edge had replaced them with.

He had become addicted to a hate so powerful he CRAVED it.  

And for what?

Protection against a world he could have tried harder to survive in solitude?  Throwing aside his dignity, his pride, to become the pet of that...that......!

Stretch spat bitterly into the snow, even his cigarettes doing nothing to improve his mood or get the taste of Edge's sharp spice of magic out of his mouth.  It was something more addicting than the magical strain of nicotine he had become so accustomed to, and something Stretch hated to crave.

He glowered at the half-spent cigarette before snuffing it out in the snow and pocketing the unused half, leaning against the side of his house with a shaky sigh.  

Gods, he had this addiction BAD.  

And he HATED himself for it.

Stretch glanced up, seeing his brother's bedroom light off, signaling that Blue had gone to bed. Normally he'd be on his way to Muffet's for a bottle of mead and a good lay but now?  Lights off had grown to mean one thing over weeks he spent in Fell...and he was starting to feel it.

He looked between the path down to Muffet's and the door to his basement, feeling his bones crawl with....

….desire.

On autopilot, his hands unlocked the door and opened it, shutting it behind him and leaving him in the dimness of the basement, alone with the machine.  

He had finished it himself some time ago for lack of anything better to do with his sleepless nights, and now it was ready to be used whenever he liked.  

But he didn't LIKE to.  He was LOATHED to use it.

So why?

Why was he turning it on?

Why were his fingers typing in a code?

Why was he crawling inside of it?

….......why was he here?

….......and more importantly, why was HE here?

Blood-red eyelights glimmered in the darkness of the basement of the deathly musk-scented world, looking almost expectant.  Neither said a word for what seemed like hours.

“You kept me waiting, ash trash,” Edge purred, his heeled boots clacking on the basement floor as he crossed the basement in three long strides.  “All the time, for you to crawl back to me like the beast you are.”

“I didn't crawl back, edgelord,” Stretch bit back with the last shred of nerve he had managed to scrounge up.  Edge smirked, his hand shooting out and burying into Stretch's hoodie, looping around a collar and jerking it up.

“Oh?  Then why do you come here with your master's mark of ownership around your pathetic neck?” he retorted, pulling Stretch closer.  “I hope you don't have any plans, because you need a good punishment for making me wait so long.”

Stretch scowled, unable to quell down the orange flush over his cheekbones.  “I didn't come back for a godsdamned punishment,” he growled.  “I don't know WHY the fuck I came back, I just.....I.....”  He winced, hating with a passion how disgustingly stupid he sounded.  

Edge laughed, letting the collar go and turning around, folding his hands behind his back.  “It's almost cute how torn you are,” he purred.  “And I'm feeling a bit pleased that you came back at all, considering how stubborn you are. So...I might be feeling charitable.  Kind, even.”  His grin broadened.  “For a price.”

Stretch clenched his hands, staring at the floor as his emotions swirled within him ranging from seething hatred to almost overwhelming desire.  “....what's your price?” he finally asked.

Edge chuckled darkly, turning back around, a chain leash clenched between his hands.  “How much do you think my kindness is worth?”

Even now, Stretch thought that the price of kindness was too high.  

But he was going to pay it anyway.

#angelia-dark commissions #fontcest #undertail #spicyhoney #underswap #underfell #papcest

[actuallylorelaigilmore]

King And Queen Of The Weekend, Chapter 2: Time We Danced With The Truth

Peyton x Blaine, post-“Some Like It Hot Mess.” Part angsty fix-it-fic, part smut, with just a dash of songfic along the way for flavor. A plot bunny that would not be denied, this was heavily inspired by Lorde’s Melodrama, especially “Sober.” 

Summary: Blaine’s turn. What happens when you and your ex both decide to drown your feelings rather than facing them...in the same bar, with an unoccupied piano? "No matter what can be said about the wasted potential that is Blaine Debeers, he is not and will never be exactly like his father, because the old man would never sidle up to a piano in a dive bar and start playing quietly for his own entertainment.”

Cross-posted on AO3; fun with tags + more notes can be found there.

“So even if I faked losing my memory, you wouldn’t be a little mad?”

“I don’t know. I’m just–I’m so happy right now.”

“I have good news. Major is going to get his memory back…and the good news doesn’t stop there. This is me. This version of me, small business owner, amateur lounge singer, guy that feels lucky every time you walk through that door.”

—-

Blaine keeps moving, on autopilot. What other choice does he have? The show must go on, right? He quits playing piano, though, when the customers complain. They want more upbeat music and he just…doesn’t care. He’s tired of faking it. Hello irony, oldest of friends.

It’s the brain biz instead, again. Scheming and clawing his way back to being king of the hill is what comes naturally, so that’s what he does, burying his feelings.

He’s a villain; they’re not supposed to have feelings anyway. Idiotic to have let himself believe otherwise.

Branching out suppliers while he tests the blue juice leads him south to a small town for the weekend. He could’ve sent Don E., but he wanted the distance. The time. Once business is concluded, he heads straight for a bottle.

The town’s only bar was easier to find than a solitary bottle of Jack, so he settles in a corner, sulking over his whiskey while the entire place seems to be filled with couples.

They kiss, they cuddle, they share shots like the world might end tomorrow–little do they know–and they’re everywhere, physical reminders that against all odds, he actually got the girl, only to lose her again.

Technically, he remembers, he’s lost her twice now. That’s when he decides this particular establishment isn’t doing him any favors and gets up to leave…until he sees the piano.

Much like a beautiful woman, he’s always had a hard time resisting the lure of a piano. His father disapproved of such a sentimental pastime, but his mother–and then grandfather–encouraged the lessons, and eventually, every session of putting his fingers to the keys felt like fighting back.

It still does, bringing solace along with the bittersweet memories of his mother��s hands on his and his grandfather teaching him old Irish ballads. No matter what can be said about the wasted potential that is Blaine Debeers, he is not and will never be exactly like his father, because the old man would never sidle up to a piano in a dive bar and start playing quietly for his own entertainment.

“Love and other moments are just chemical reactions in your brain, in your brain...and feelings of aggression are the absence of the love drug in your veins, in your veins...”

As song choices go, it’s a bit on the nose, but he’s half-drunk and moping over Peyton, much as he wishes he wasn’t, and it’s what comes to mind. Along with it comes more moping, because he came here to forget–but he can't.

She sparkled.

That was the thing about Peyton that had first tugged at him. From the beginning, underneath her professional demeanor and through all the dark, dismal events to follow, she glowed in a way that made him want to be near her.

If he simply wanted sex and conversation he could find a beautiful woman in a bar somewhere, without getting mixed up with the ADA whose help was crucial to his plan. Slipping her his card was as practical as it was invitational, given how well he knew Mr. Boss and the danger she was courting. Against his own interests, he cared that she might get hurt because of her involvement in this scheme of his.

He never thought she'd invite him to stick around after work, as it were, to get a little sloppy on fine whiskey and do very little talking. All he’d really wanted was a little flirtation and to get rid of Mr. Boss. But when he laid out the map for her and connected the dots, she just lit up at him and took his breath away.

That was unexpected.

She made him a little tongue-tied, awkward, slightly off his game. He had better lines, smoother moves, but facing her, he was more the teenage loser of his youth than the suave king he’d remade himself to be.

The worst part was, he liked it.

“Love come quickly, because I feel my self-esteem is caving in, it’s on the brink...”

Had anybody ever come so close to sweeping him off his feet? It was a silly thought for someone who’d made a name for himself as a killer and drug dealer, but Peyton just had this way about her, part warrior queen, part soft and warm and vulnerable. The way she entered an interrogation room and demanded his release, as though anyone she came into contact with should be expected to do nothing less than exactly what she commanded.

Maybe it was a lawyer thing; he wouldn’t know. But it was hot.

And though he’d never admit it to anyone, she tunneled right into his weak spot. All he’d managed to make of himself, out of his personal hell growing up, was a cliche. The poor little rich boy, the failed entrepreneur…the thief who barely managed to graduate to drug dealer on somebody else’s turf. Once his grandfather was locked up, long after his own mother didn’t think he was worth living for, Blaine just didn’t see the point. Survival he was good at, but believing he was worth something? He'd left that behind as soon as he was old enough to understand how much his own father hated him.

Peyton was the first person to try and protect him, to stand up for him, since he was a child. It was the strangest feeling, but not unwelcome. Instead it was terrifying, because he wanted to lean into it, accept it. Her hand on his back as she ordered his father to leave, snapping at Ravi and choosing him over Major, welcoming him into their home when she knew Liv wouldn’t.

Not to mention, how she exuded cool with her shields up, so different from the woman he’d parted ways with who’d still been flush and warm and relaxed from their spontaneous encounter in her office. It should have been awkward, when they pulled back and tugged their clothes into place and she smoothed down her couch cushions, but it wasn’t.

She had grinned at him, seeming totally at ease, possibly the most confidently sexy woman he’d ever met, and asked flippantly, “Catch you later?”

Her grin was contagious. “Well,” he’d replied, “I do have a previously scheduled appointment to go over evidence with this smokin’ hot attorney. Maybe we could hook up after that?”

“Sounds good.” She linked her arms behind his neck, leaning in for a long, slow kiss. “Tell me more about this attorney.”

“Hmm…” He let his gaze wander down her body and back up to her deep hazel eyes. “Well, she’s gorgeous, and smart, and brave...”

Peyton interrupted him. “Brave?”

“Definitely. Not just anybody would take on Mr. Boss, let alone face him solo in her office without caving in to the fear. He threatened you,” Blaine reminded her gently. “And you stuck.”

She shrugged. “It’s my job. I’m good at it.”

“That’s kinda my point. But it’s more than that. You’re in it for more than the title and salary. I can tell. You really want to get him–just for what he does to this fair city of ours. That’s an admirable quality.”

“Well, we share it.” She gestured at her outfit. “So. Do I look like someone who just had sex on government property?”

“Huh. Presuming I know what that looks like,” Blaine replied, “no. I think you’re good to go.”

Nodding, Peyton stepped back toward him for one last kiss. “Then I’ll see you around.”

“Love come quickly, because I don’t think I can keep this monster in, it’s in my skin...”

He almost went for it that night on the couch. He almost couldn’t help himself, his hands full of Peyton and everything he secretly wanted most beneath his new persona. He couldn’t do it, of course–what if she regretted it? he knew he would regret it–but he almost did before he managed to pull back.

He wasn’t exactly known for his impulse control, before her. But he really did want to be better. Worthy of her company, let alone her affection. Worth that smile she shot his way that warmed the darker parts of his soul.

She made him feel poetic.

There was nothing he could do about how damaged he was long before they ever met, or what he did before and after becoming a zombie. But he was just a man now, and he wanted a real chance with her. So he stopped it.

He spent the night tossing and turning on the couch, cold without her, and wishing he’d never lied in the first place.

“Love and other socially acceptable emotions are morphine, they’re morphine, cleverly concealing primal urges often felt but rarely seen, rarely seen...”

When she took his hand the next morning, and led him to her room, he couldn’t believe it. And he didn’t try to stop it. She chose him, knowing his past, knowing the new man he was trying so hard to be–her hands were in his hair, her lips were parted against his, and they were kissing in the muted daylight where it felt like a dream.

He didn’t ever want to wake up.

His old life and the new one where she treated him like a decent guy who she was interested in were worlds apart. Despite her best friend being a zombie, Peyton had managed to stay surprisingly untouched by the violence surrounding her. She fought the seedy underbelly of the city…and he belonged in it.

But not anymore. He’d gotten his second chance, and he was determined to keep earning it, every day with her. Standing in her sunny bedroom, he lifted her shirt up, letting his fingers trace her skin as it was exposed. She stretched into his touch and he wondered if she did yoga, then refused to get distracted by how sexy the idea of her doing yoga was.

He was such a lost cause when it comes to Peyton Charles, it was ridiculous.

Unlike the last time, Blaine didn’t ask if she was sure, because he knew her well enough to know that this wouldn’t be happening if she weren’t. Instead, he indulged, the way they didn’t during their fateful one-night stand, when things were too new and frantic and fueled by the risk of getting caught at any moment.

Now, he could take full advantage of the light warming her bronze skin, drinking in his fill of how she looked in her bra and soft cotton pjs, before he slid those down her endlessly long legs and followed them with kisses.

“God, you’re gorgeous.”

She was so beautifully responsive, angling toward his every touch, humming her appreciation. It made him want to stay with her for days, finding every sensitive spot and claiming it for himself.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she breathed back.

Peyton was already exploring him in return, dispatching his t-shirt and running her hands over his chest, leaning in toward him as her hands drifted lower.

Their lips met with excruciating slowness, neither of them rushing toward the bed. He traced her lips with his tongue, and when they parted she sighed. Then their tongues met eagerly while his fingers roamed down her back to caress her ass.

Her hand grazed him through his boxers and he jolted, growling against her mouth, their kisses growing more passionate. With an easy flick of his fingers, Blaine opened the front clasp of her bra and slid the straps off each shoulder.

They finally began inching toward the bed, still linked at the lips, her hands in his hair as the full length of her pressed against him. He kneeled next to her when they landed, running his hands over her chest and following his fingertips with his mouth.

Peyton moaned when he tugged lightly on one nipple and circled it with his tongue. He was stroking the other with his fingertips, shifting his legs so that one was between her knees and pressing against her. She rocked against him a little as their lips met and parted, breath growing thick and more desperate.

Her hands gripped his back, digging in as he continued to explore her, running his tongue along the crease of soft skin beneath her breast, then blowing lightly on her nipple before taking it back into his mouth.

Her hands moved up to his neck, running through his hair until he ceded control of the kiss to her, and she left him panting for breath. Then she was gripping his shoulders as his mouth found the curve of her neck and lingered there, leaving behind the faintest of marks.

She arched up toward him, nails digging into his skin, and he moved over, making room to slide down and let his mouth journey south. His lips left a heated trail down her taut stomach and over to her hip, where he planted a firm kiss that made her shiver.

Peyton released her grip on him and reached out to run her fingers along the waistline of his shorts. With her eyes closed, she waited until he leveraged himself up and then she tugged them off. He kicked them away, sucking in air as her hands found him and caressed the sensitive skin beneath his balls.

Blaine teased his fingers along the edge of her satin thong, then slid it aside to circle her clit with his fingers. Peyton started to shift along with his movements, quaking against the sheets.

“Oh, God. Blaine,” she murmured, taking him in her hand and stroking. His fingers kept moving against her until he was hard and ready, and their mouths clashed as he lifted himself.

She was wet and hot when he slid into her, and he found himself whispering endearments in her ear, just like the last time.

They moved together with an easy familiarity that didn’t make sense for only their second time, but he didn’t question it, straining with her toward their lush, convulsive peak. To Blaine, she felt like coming home.

“Love I beg you, lift me up into that privileged point of view, the world of two...”

Nothing she said was wrong. He was selfish, and greedy…and sad, most of all. He was angry at her for the way she tricked him into confessing–lied to him, led him into a trap–but he couldn’t muster up much enthusiasm for it, because he'd done far worse. And she was right.

He hadn’t been thinking about her friends, or making a fool of her, when his memories came back and he pretended they hadn’t. He’d been thinking about himself, which, once he had his memories back, he knew was what he always did. How he’d always been, before.

It took everything he had not to chase after her. Not to go looking, to make his case, the way he might with anybody else. But this was Peyton, who won arguments for a living, and he knew it would just make things worse. So he covered up the wound with jokes and business and liquor and tried to move on.

“Love don’t leave me, because I console myself that Hallmark cards are true, I really do...”

The liquor isn’t helping much. It never really does. Must be the Irish in him; drinking just makes him maudlin.

He sips again anyway, because he’s here and has nothing better to do, closing his eyes and remembering the way Peyton leaned back that first night, her skirt shifting and catching his attention when she crossed her legs. Her voice was sultry between sips, inviting--more intoxicating than the alcohol.

He’s not sure which is more of a tragedy, the fact that getting his memories back means he lost her, or the fact that having them means he remembers so clearly what he’s lost.

Putting his own flourish on the melody with one hand and sipping with the other, he catches movement in his peripheral vision that makes him dizzy.

He must be more drunk than he realizes, Blaine thinks, if he’s starting to hallucinate. This one isn’t exactly the way he would’ve imagined it, if he had a choice in hallucinations…which is how he knows he’s not that drunk.

Peyton’s come back to him, in all her fierce and shining glory–but she doesn’t look happy to see him. In fact, she seems just as stunned as he is, striding toward him with an accusatory finger outstretched.

He can’t help leaning into the chorus as their eyes meet, as she approaches without hesitation and all he can feel is the dull ache of missing her.

“I’m gunning down romance…it never did a thing for me, but heartache and misery—ain’t nothing but a tragedy.”

She carries herself like a fighter ready for the next round, despite her slightly glassy eyes and the tequila on her breath. If this is Peyton Charles on tequila, no wonder she wouldn’t tell him about it that first night.

She raises her voice over the piano he’s still playing, heedless of the heads that turn their way.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

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