#prxteger

letmechcose > remixedwriter : So, my dad is working for this company  letmechcose > remixedwriter : And he’s gotten ahold of two tickets for this indie                                                        concert they’re doing! letmechcose > remixedwriter : And I was wondering if you’d like to do with me. letmechcose > remixedwriter : As a date, that is.

statistically, a date involving a male and a female will not go through about sixty percent of the time if the girl is the one to prompt it.  ——— luckily for ashley witne and chris de leon, neither of them were willing to fall to the status quo so easily. standing before the mirror, the auburn-haired girl’s hands smoothed down her short, plaid dress — picked up on a group excursion to the beach alongside jess and sam . she smiles fondly as she gives herself a quick TWIRL in the mirror, feeling confident in her slightly plump figure’s appearance in the dress. a smile rises to lightly glossed lips ( smelling and tasting like s t r a w b e r r y   —— notoriously, chris’s favorite flavor. ) as she remembers the other’s words.

remixedwriter > letmechcose : You look beautiful in that dress. remixedwriter > letmechcose : I mean, it looks beautiful on you.

she fantasizes about how the night will go ; a flannel-covered couple leaning against each other, whispering obscure lyrics under their breath as the sun goes down and their breath becomes evident in the air around them. the heroine will whisper that she’s c o l d and her companion will stop and stutter, stage fright taking over his expression until he sheds his jacket for her. she’ll look miniscule in his large jacket, but she’ll beam and smile, cheeks dusted with a red blush that she passes off as jack frost biting her skin.  ———— and finally, there it is. it’ll be the final song of the night, and it’ll be slow, quiet. an epode to an unspoken lover. and the protagonists will turn to share that fated glance, and their lips will come closer... closer...

                                                                      ———————— BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

she’s pulled from her fantasies by the O B N O X I O U S sound of the drier from the other room ( her apartment is small, albeit acoustic ), but the sound is quickly accompanied by her patterned feet, adorned by cat thighs as she slides into the laundry closet to pluck the necessities from the drier. the first is her BEANIE, which is promptly pulled over her messy auburn hair, accenting her cheekbones. the second is christopher’s j a c k e t, left at her house during a late-night study session ( occasionally worn by the girl around the house, but she’d never tell him that. )

letmechcose > remixedwriter : It’ll be cold, though! Bring a jacket. remixedwriter > letmechcose : I think I left my jacket at your place... letmechcose > remixedwriter : Oh, okay! I’ll be sure to wash it and I’ll give it you                                                        when you come to pick me up. remixedwriter > letmechcose : Rad.

   It was Chris’s display of nervousness that made the wolf curious,drew him closer. It was strange to see him cowering, repeating to himself that he did not want to end up ‘bitten’. His fear made the wolf hesitate, caused him to become worried about the distressed human, especially because he was close with Mike.

   He lowered his body down to the earth, almost crawling towards him on his stomach, tail dragging along behind him as it slowly wagged. It was an act of submission, to show Chris there was nothing to fear. He wasn’t an enemy, and all he wanted was to sniff his jacket.

╓          When we first met I honestly had no Idea you would be so important to me.     

                                                                                                              ╜

“I’m fine, Chris. Stop looking at me like that.”

send me five times kissed* for a drabble about five times our muses kissed 

Chris was Sam’s first kiss at Hannah and Beth’s 13th birthday party.  As is common among young teenagers in their formative years, spin the bottle was the game of choice.  Sam wasn’t going to play at all, but the insistence of her best friends made it nearly impossible to be a fly on the wall.  So she took her turn, her stomach twisting into tight knots as the bottle spun precariously around the circle.  She actually breathed a sigh of relief when it landed on Chris, and not that strange Lenny kid whose breath always smelled like garlic.  She refused to budge from her seat, so he had to come to her.  Their lips barely grazed in a quick mash of teeth and inexperience while all their friends made the taunting “OooOOOooooo” sound.  

The second time they kissed was the night of Hannah and Beth’s disappearance.  Before any wayward pranks and hurt feelings there was simply a party among friends.  Some had had a little more to drink than others, and this became all to apparent to Sam when she ran into Chris in the hallway outside the bathroom.  She asked if he needed help with a teasing tone tinging her voice, and he shut her up mid sentence with a sloppy drunk smooch before laughing to himself and disappearing into the bathroom.  With all the commotion of the night, she forgot about it until much later.  By that point she’d chalked it up to teenage hormones and too much alcohol and let it go.  

The third time Sam was the one doing the kissing.  Maybe it was out of spite or jealousy, but when she’d snooped and read those texts between him and Ashley, something in her sparked.  She considered herself the one in the group that looked after everyone else, but sometimes she wanted certain things just for her.  The cable car creaked along at a snail’s pace, the moon illuminating the snowy blanket of the valley beneath them.  They joked around for a while, eventually silence settled in as they enjoyed the quiet ride, and then she just leaned into it, like it was the most natural thing she could do.  Her hand slid up to the side of his face, this time inexperience didn’t bog them down, no alcohol to explain it away.  Her mouth searched his with a hunger she didn’t even know existed inside her until that moment.  And then it was over, his blush and the way he avoided eye contact told her everything she needed to know.  They were friends, and he had… Ashley.  She laughed it off and let it go.  

Sam sat next to Chris, her fingers entwined with his, trying her best to keep her lip from trembling as he fell apart beside her.  The priest said long strings of words that she could barely understand because she was too focused on the man sitting beside her, distraught with grief.  Ashley’s smiling face stared at her from a large portrait above an empty coffin.  After everyone had scattered to wallow in their own grief, Sam took Chris into her arms and held him close, pressing gently kisses against his forehead every time a sob managed to escape his lips.  She couldn’t tell you how long they stayed like that, but there was no hunger or longing in these kisses, only comfort and anguish.

“Guess that shootin’ came in handy?”