#i’ve been seeing them in the tags for a few weeks but saw they’re now scamming people so i thought id make a post

[8pxl]

PSA 🗣️ another scammer using genAI without disclosing it

pixlgirl has been posting generated AI (targeting fandoms) without disclosing it, passing it off as their genuine art and has apparently scammed at least one person into ‘commissioning’ them. this is a public PSA so yall can block them, and not interact. please do not harass them!

it’s incredibly shitty to be disingenuous while posting AI but even shittier to scam people with it 🤢 stay diligent yall

[snotbuggle]

Omega when she gets to jail and realizes that she now has to big sister four other children. One of which is nowhere near her age.

Going to try and condense some more serious thoughts about these episodes down below so I can avoid spoiling someone as much as possible and not post a dozen times. I don’t want to miss tag any one of those.

Jex/Jek?? I can’t completely remember his name, but the mirialan kid is for sure not going to trust her at all. Can’t say much for the pantoran kid since they haven’t shown much of them so far, but Eva is going to love her.

I think the mirialan kid is definitely going to be skeptical of Omega’s prior knowledge of the facility, Emerie, and why they’re there. Although he might overlook these things hanging on her promise that her brothers will get her, and in turn them, out of there. I can’t help but wonder what Omega and the others will think after about a week and there still not being a rescue. (These two are assuming that she will be placed with the other force sensitive children. Although she may be moved since her blood actually works for project Necromancer)

Crosshair is definitely going to hear it from Hunter. ESPECIALLY after he threw Hunter’s past failure to keep her out of Tantiss in his face. What I think will weigh on his conscience more though is the fact he thinks she’ll be alone this time. In a way she definitely will, but I have no doubt that he realizes he was probably the highlight of her day. He was probably the one thing that kept her hopeful even if he tried to talk down on her and get her to leave. Yes, she had hope that Hunter and Wrecker would find her, but she also needed someone there with her. A familiar face and not someone who just revealed they were your sister out of the blue. Her situation has changed, but Crosshair doesn’t know that. The Crosshair guilt is going to be so real in these last episodes.

Switching gears, CX agents are always a cool and interesting topic for me. While the identity of CX-2 isn’t usually as engaging, I have to say that I’ve drifted from the standpoint of “there’s no way that’s Tech” to “it’s a possibility” over the course of the last two episodes. I’ve seen some fun ideas for who it is otherwise. Personally, I think that they’re probably just another copy paste man with no autonomy anymore.

ANYHOW! I haven’t seen anyone talk about it much, but the scene with Hemlock reviewing the CX agent data and the capsule has me thinking a little harder on their creation/conditioning. The way Hemlock talks about the other operatives as well. “The others aren’t ready to join you” (paraphrasing) seems to show that after the mental conditioning through obviously brutal means, it takes a load of time to physically condition the agents. Seeing as CX-1 was most likely initiated around the same time as Crosshair (I choose to believe that they were near each other’s tables which is why they’re familiar), that took around five months to half a year. In that time span there had to be a lot of soldiers who Hemlock saw fit to be “reprogrammed” but we see very few operatives throughout. This means that if they make it out of mental conditioning, physical conditioning is most likely very dangerous and often times fatal. I’d like to draw attention to the capsules as a part of that physical conditioning. There were several capsules that Hemlock was observing, along with the foggy one that is most likely that new Huyang-lookin-ass operative. If these capsules are the final stage of physical conditioning, it adds meaning to CX-2’s first line, “Why have I been activated?” (Once again paraphrasing). Although the capsules could be for something else entirely.

Also a bit of a gripe, why in the world do you need a new secret-secret operative, Hemlock? You have the commandos, and then the first X troopers, now the CX’s, and what? You wanted a new one? I can’t tell if this man is an overachiever or just way too absorbed into the advanced trooper rabbit hole. Also for you Tech theorists, it’s kinda suspicious that he makes a new version of agents isn’t it? Almost like there’s something…deviant about him?

Completely side tracking here, I really like Phee’s awareness in the station. Yeah she didn’t hear the blaring alarm, but she was in a room where it’d be hard to hear anyways. However, when she got back she felt something was off about the ramp. We’ve seen how slick CX-2 is, so her noticing something is up was a nice touch imo. Also was very appreciative of her caution and readiness with her knife. I love when female characters get to be aware of their surroundings and ready to throw hands if things go south.

In conclusion, thank you for listening to my dump-rambling. I’ve been trying to keep my lips shut so I don’t miss tag anything and spoil it for someone (because I know that I’ll forget to tag everything right). I hope Wrecker is okay. And even if I’m not a Tech CX theorist, I have to admit that I’ve been seeing some fairly strong parallels.

[rustedhearts]

send her my love (boxer!steve x fem!librarian!reader)

summary: a series of letters written after your recent breakup with steve, recounting your time apart.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

♡ the king of the ring ♡ main masterlist

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, mushy-gushy-lovey-dovey love letters.

a/n: pretty self explanatory, but libby’s letters are in pink, steve’s are in black ♡

“…how it hurt so bad to see her cry. i didn’t want to say goodbye. send her my love, memories remain. send her my love, roses never fade.”

—send her my love, journey

december 1992—march 1993

♡ ♡

12/05/92

Dear Libby,

Dear god I hope you open this. My hands are shaking so bad around the pen that I’m sure it’ll be all scratchy and shit, but I hope you know that I’m trying. I know how much you love letters, and after you stopped picking up my calls a few weeks ago…I figured this was the best way to reach you.

It’s been almost a month since we last saw each other. I hate thinking about that day. I hate thinking about you crying, and crying because of me. Because of something I did. I want you to know that I take full accountability for what I did, my love. That’s a word they said I should use more often. Accountability. “They” would be Big and Mikey. When they heard about what happened…I don’t think I’ve ever seen either of them so mad. I think, for a moment, Big thought about coming out of retirement just to kick my ass into next year.

I patched up the wall myself. It was my mess to clean. The house seems so big and empty without you. I never realized it echoed before.

I don’t blame you for going home, baby. I know you’ve been wanting to go for a while. I know I drove you away. Pushed you away. I was so terrible to you and I see that now. I’m so sorry it took something so awful for me to see it. But you were right. I’m just like my father. And I needed someone to tell me that so I could realize how fucking stupid and awful I’ve been.

I hope you don’t mind that I used some of your stationary to write this to you. You left it on the desk downstairs. The shelves came in for your books and I put them up. Maybe when you come home, we can fill them up. I’ll buy you all the books in the world, my girl.

I’m sorry. Please know that.

Love,

Steve.

♡ ♡

12/10/92

Steve,

I was surprised to receive your letter. When I stopped answering and your calls stopped coming, I assumed we were done for good. I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Despite my every want to feel the opposite, I’m still so terribly in love with you that my head hurts every waking moment of the day. I ache with it. Now that we’re apart, it bleeds. It has nowhere to go. I have nowhere to put it. But this was your doing, Steven. I don’t want you to forget that.

We both said terrible things that day, but what you did was unforgivable. You promised from the start to never raise a hand against me in anger. You promised to never become the thing you hated. I took your word as bond, and perhaps that was my mistake. Perhaps that’s my grievance to regret.

I miss you terribly, but this time apart will be good for us. It’s what we need. I’ve been away from home since I was 19. My brother stands taller than me. His voice is so much deeper than when I left. They’re getting computers at the library soon. Everything is so different, yet it all still seems the same. But even these tiny differences make me realize how long I’ve been away.

It’s snowing here in Hawkins and I helped mom put up the Christmas lights. Nick and I had a snowball fight. I felt ten years old again. Mom made hot chocolate and we watched Charlie Brown. I know how much you love Charlie Brown’s Christmas. But in that moment, I felt wonderfully calm. I felt okay. I felt happy.

And it made me wonder…were we happy, Steve? Or have we been pretending for too long?

I’m glad my shelves came. Use them for your trophies.

XO,

Libby

♡ ♡

12/14/92

Libby,

I can’t tell you how happy I was to get your letter in the mail. I’ve been scared to open it for the past two days. But the thought of going a moment more without knowing what you said would kill me. I can hear your voice so clearly when I read your words.

I’ll never forget what I did that day, Libby. It will always be a reminder of how awful I’ve become. And it will always be a reminder of who I don’t want to be ever again.

I know it doesn’t mean much now since I’m a few months too late, but I’m talking to someone. A shrink or whatever. Big recommended him. Apparently he specializes in “anger issues.” You know how I feel about sitting down and whining about my problems, but…I don’t know. Maybe it’ll help. If it turns me back into the man you loved then I’ll sit on that couch and talk for days.

You asked if we were pretending, and for me at least, I never pretended for a moment. There wasn’t a second that went by that I didn’t love you with every ounce of my being. I’m sorry if you felt you had to pretend. I’m sorry that you weren’t happy, and if you give me the chance, I’ll do my best to make you happy this time around.

No amount of trophies or champion belts in the world could make up for the loss of you, my angel. Please know that and believe it.

Yours,

Steve

♡ ♡

12/22/92

Steve,

I hate the way your words make my heart pound. All that love is still so strong, and it’s all still festering in me. But the heartache is just as powerful. The heartache is just as real.

I cannot give you a second chance just yet. I don’t think we’ve quite earned it. I don’t think we’ve yet reached a point where we’re both okay—on our own. I want to be okay even without you. I fear I’ve become so reliant on you to tell me where life will go, because my life has revolved around your own. I’ve never found my own path to wander. I want that opportunity now.

I went to the Hideout tonight. A Christmas party with some friends. I haven’t felt that young in years, Steve. I’m only 22.

Merry Christmas, Steve. And happy New Year.

XO,

Libby

♡ ♡

1/3/93

Libby,

Christmas was lonely without you. Mikey invited me to his "bachelor pad" in L.A for a "booze fest" (all his words). Gargling gravel sounded like a better time. For a minute, I thought maybe it might be good to get out. To be my own person, like you said. But everything just feels so dull now.

I thought about mailing your present, but I figured you'd just get upset. I want to respect your space and our time apart. My shrink says I have to find more time for other people's wants and needs instead of just prioritizing my own. Is that what I've been doing, Libby? Is that what I've always done?

I guess I kinda did. Took you away from the library and your home. I just wanted you with me all the time. I couldn’t imagine getting through that first string of fights without you. I don’t think I’d be the fighter I am today if I didn’t have you there.

I guess I’m talking about “me” a lot again. I’m sorry I do that.

I hope your Christmas was nice. Hope it snowed the way you like.

Love,

Steve

♡ ♡

1/28/93

Libby,

I haven’t heard from you all month. I thought I’d reach out again. For a few days, I had myself convinced my letter got lost in the mail. I waited for a “return to sender” to come. I think I would’ve preferred the honest rejection to your silence. It’s been so quiet here, my girl. I miss the sound of your voice in our home.

The fights mean nothing anymore. I won the Russell fight last week and felt nothing. Ever since you left, victory tastes stale. The referees declare the winner and I just hear static. Jesus, I miss you so much I started reading some of your sappy literature last week. It’s clearly having an affect.

I hope you’re okay. I hope you’re good. I miss you more and more with every passing day. I miss you more than I thought was ever humanly possible for one person to miss another. I never thought this deep of a feeling could exist. This “break” has taught me a lot.

Been talking to the shrink more too. He says I have an issue with authority and always need to feel in control because of how my dad was. Big fucking brain on this guy, huh? Must’ve went to school in Dumb Fuckville.

Sorry. I’m trying to be kinder. Not swear so much. Wish they made patches for anger like they do for nicotine. Something to ease the ache. But it’s hard to quit something you were born into. The Harrington rage doesn’t just disappear over night. But I swear I’m trying. I promise, cross my heart and hope to die, baby. I’m doing my best to be better.

I hope I hear from you. I hope you’re alright.

I love you.

— Steve

♡ ♡

2/3/93

Steve,

I meant to write. I’ve been so busy now that I’m at the library full time again. I forgot how taxing it can truly be, but it’s like riding a bike. The smell of the books, the feel of the paper, the conversations you have with readers who don’t know where to look, or the ones who do and are searching for more. I forgot how important I feel between those stacks of books.

My girlfriends and I have been going out. They never got to celebrate my twenty-first with me, so we had a belated celebration a few weeks ago. We went to a bar in Indianapolis, took a bus the whole way there. The bar was loud and hot and sticky, and someone spilled beer all over my purse. I know you would’ve hated it, but part of me wished you were there. Bodies were pressing against each other on the dance floor, touching and smearing sweat—but all I wanted to feel was yours. Your familiar frame, right next to me. Only with you have I ever felt so secure.

Anyway, I got my first hangover, and that wasn’t fun. Especially because I’m still staying with my parents and they still think I’m seventeen. Nick tried to get me to buy him beer for his friends. I wish I could be this ‘cool’ older sister for him, but right now he doesn’t like me very much.

I watched your fight last week. There’s something so different in the way you move now. Your punches seem heavier, harder. You take more hits before you hit back. I wish you wouldn’t do that. You know I always worry, Steve. I worry about what might happen if you take too many hits. All those concussions can’t be good. I’m no doctor, but I figure eventually, they’ll catch up to you. I don’t want to see that happen. I can’t fathom the idea of losing you like that. No matter what happens between us, I always want to know you’re well. Selfishly, I always want to know you're out there if I need to call.

I’m glad to know you’re trying, and that you’re still going to therapy. I think it’s very healthy, Steve, and I appreciate and value your honesty. And….I miss you too.

Yours,

Libby

♡ ♡

2/12/93

Libby,

There hasn't been a moment that's gone by since you left that I haven't wished I was with you. In whatever way that might be, all I've wanted is to feel your body next to mine. I miss your touch, your smell, your smile. I never want to know another kiss but yours. I never want to hold another body in my arms that isn't yours. I don't think I could stomach the thought of never having that again.

The longer the time between us lasts and the further the distance grows, the worse I ache for you. God I sound like a fucking dope. It's all those novels you left me, I swear I'm not this sappy. But I guess with you I am.

Please forgive me. Please come home. All I can do now is beg, and show you how hard I'm trying.

I love you, angel. There's nobody and nothing but you.

Love,

Steve

P.S. You're the best big sister. Nick will see that one day when his brain isn't full of beer and Playboy.

P.P.S. Happy early Valentine's Day, baby. I hope the flowers are okay.

♡ ♡

2/17/93

Dear Steve,

I loved the flowers, and I loved the sap. Reading your last letter brought tears to my eyes, and for the first time in a while, they were blissful. I cannot begin to describe the size of the welt in my chest. It feels bruised by your absence and my longing.

Despite every bone in my body yearning for you, I cannot come home. Not yet. I'm not ready. I don't think you are, either. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, and while it pains both of us to endure it, I think they're right. Whoever "they" are.

In the spirit of all this honesty, I have to admit: Tom Marrow asked me out for Valentine's Day. And god damn you, Steve, I said no. I said no because I'm wilting without your sun shining on me, and I'm lost without you by my side. I said no because I'll never be able to look into the face of another man without wishing it was yours.

I said no because I know, one day (maybe soon, maybe not), I'll come home to you. Don't let that get to your head.

Love,

Libby

♡ ♡

2/22/93

Libby,

My heart has never suffered as many palpitations in all my high-risk athletic career as it did reading your letter. I hate the way the paper crumpled in my fist when I read about fucking Tom. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to abandon the jealousy that fills me when I think of you with another man. But I can admit, it reached a point even I don't like to think of. I was letting it control me. I'm trying not to do that anymore.

The paper smelled like you this time. You don't know how badly I've missed that smell. I sort of feel like a hound-dog, tracing for more of it in the ink. That's what you've reduced me to, my love. An animal searching for you in the earth.

Please come home. Please come back to me.

Yours,

Steve

♡ ♡

3/2/93

My darling Steve,

I'm coming home to you. Please unlock the door.

Yours always,

Libby

♡ ♡

[wndaswife]

plant roses at your feet | gerri fields & fem!reader

The week-long trip to visit your best friend goes awry when it seems that Gerri’s changed since she moved away for school.

Word count: 9028

Tags: angst, fluff, jealousy, depictions of a panic attack, implications of internalized homophobia, unrequited love for a second, cheesy love confession

Carrying your luggage behind you, you stepped off of the train and quickly read over Gerri’s texts. As per her instructions, you should be stepping off from Platform Five before turning left, taking an escalator, then going through the station until you reached Gate Three.

You’d been so excited to see her that you had even searched up pictures of the station, meticulously planning out what it would feel like to finally be meeting up with your best friend after parting from each other at the end of the summer. Though you were still worried about getting lost, you followed the instructions Gerri messaged you and finally made it to the front of the station.

In the middle of typing a text to her letting her know you were waiting at the front parking lot, you heard someone call out to you from the far left and you turned to see Gerri waving at you.

It had only been a few months since you last saw each other, but Gerri looked different. Her hair, that was now a few inches longer than you could last remember, was styled differently, and in a subtle way, the way she did her makeup seemed different too. 

But she looked so pretty.

Gerri always looked so pretty.

You embraced each other and she uttered into your shoulder, “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” you replied, feeling a warm comfort settle within you at the feeling of being with your best friend again. 

Her hair smelled like mangoes, so you supposed she was still using the same kind of shampoo. That made you happy, in a way. 

She pulled away from you and took your backpack from your shoulder. She carried it for you while you wheeled your small travel luggage behind you. “There’s a ton I wanna catch you up on, but David’s friend is waiting in the car for us and I don’t wanna keep him waiting,” she told you and you walked beside her and into the parking lot.

“David? Like, the same guy from summer?”

Gerri looked over at you with a grin that made her look proud of herself. “Yeah,” she answered. “I forgot to tell you, but one of my roommates knows someone who’s rooming with a guy that’s close friends with David, so I saw him at some frat party. He’s visiting the US and he’s been staying with Sam — the guy who drove me here.”

You felt a bit lightheaded trying to catch up with the sudden dump of details of all these people Gerri knew, and as if mind wasn’t already struggling to keep up, she added, “When we get back, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

Trying not to sound too confused and consequently bitter, you asked, “Everyone…?”

The both of you reached the car and Gerri helped you tuck your things away in the trunk while she answered, “There are a few people back at my place right now, but they’re just friends of mine and Zoey.”

You’ve heard of Zoey before. She was Gerri’s roommate. But the last you heard about her, Gerri had been having issues with rooming with her. You supposed they got along now, but you weren’t sure when that started happening.

“You’ll like them,” she reassured, squeezing your upper arm supportively then getting into the passenger’s seat after your luggage was tucked away in the trunk. 

You watched as she buckled her seatbelt and turned her head to start a conversation you couldn’t hear with Sam, and for a moment you wondered if it would’ve been better for you to stay somewhere else. But when Gerri looked at you through the side mirror and gestured for you to get into the car, you smiled and felt encouraged.

Though you certainly weren’t in the mood for socialising and all you’d really wanted to do was spend the day alone with Gerri at her place watching movies and getting takeout like you always would, the way she turned around and asked you if you wanted to stop for anything made you think that it wouldn’t be… that bad.

As long as you were with her.

Sam carried your things up and Gerri told you a bit about her friends as you trailed behind. She told you what she thought of them and whether or not she thought you’d like them. There were a few of them you were almost excited to meet — Winona and Caroline — but you still checked the time on your phone before the door to her dorm was unlocked as you tried to estimate what time it would be that everyone would go home.

It was three in the afternoon and they must’ve gotten there a few hours prior to when you arrived at the station, so it couldn’t be more than four or five hours until they left if they wanted to stay for dinner.

You were wrong about that.

Or just disillusioned to begin with.

Gerri’s idea of ‘a few people’ meant enough people that the entire living room was stuffy with a crowd of people, all of them friends or at least friends of mutual friends, where the balcony was polluted with cigarette and joint smoke and the kitchen and dining room was littered with students that were afternoon-drinking. 

Everywhere you turned there were conversations and commentary on things like consumerism and classic literature and film that you realised people thought were the pinnacle of what it meant to be an artistic and well-spoken individual interacting with other artistic and well-spoken individuals.

And Gerri… Where was Gerri?

It was nearly nine now and you’d only seen her a few times since you entered through the door together with Sam. You got by without her by taking frequent trips to the washroom, unpacking your things as slowly as you could, and even taking a walk around the neighbourhood during which you stopped for a pack of beer at a convenience store so you had an excuse for if anyone noticed your absence.

No one did, but it got you a few good first impressions when you set it down on the kitchen counter.

Caroline ended up being sort of annoying, and you were glad when Winona came around for it was right after Caroline said something vaguely elitist that you would have struggled to say something useful in response to had it not been for Winona coming around with a can of Smirnoff Ice for you, asking if you were Gerri’s friend.

She was nice and you did enjoy her company for a while until you finished your drink and kept seeing brief glances of Gerri before she quickly disappeared beyond the crowd of people each time.

Standing in the open kitchen and having watched Gerri pass you countless times without seeming to be looking for you, you suddenly felt a bit down and even kind of tired.

It was ten in the evening by the time you told Winona you needed to talk to Gerri, and you bid a goodbye to perhaps the only person you enjoyed talking with that entire day after exchanging numbers with each other.

Feeling pretty tipsy and rather sleepy, you slid your way through the crowd of people and finally made your way to Gerri’s side. She was talking with David and Sam and another taller guy that looked sort of nice because he had a crooked tie and a pair of aviator glasses on, but you didn’t pay much mind to anyone but Gerri once you got the closest you’ve been with her since the afternoon.

“I was looking for you!” she said when she turned to you, a red solo cup in her hand. You couldn’t find it in yourself to be upset with her, but maybe you would’ve been annoyed at the very least if you were sober. She introduced you to her friends.

“Nice seeing you again, Y/N,” you heard David greet you.

You weren’t sure if you actually responded to him, but you thought you did. Either way, you told Gerri, “I think I’m just gonna head to bed early, Ger. Sorry. I’m just tired from the train. Is there something I can set up in your room or is there a guest room?”

“Shit, I forgot to set your things up,” she hissed then looked into the hallway where her bedroom was. “There’s, uh, a cot or something in the closet but… Well, it’s fine, you can sleep in my bed. Do you need help unpacking?”

“No, I unpacked earlier. Thanks,” you replied, and that time you knew for sure that you said something to her friends for you waved them goodbye and told them you hoped to see them again, which was completely disingenuous.

Earlier when you unpacked, you looked through Gerri’s things, but seeing her bedroom from your position on her bed made things look different. It was like you could see things from her eyes as you looked around at her desk and her books and her posters, smelling the scent of her hair and a bit of her perfume from her pillows, bringing her blanket up to your shoulders and imagining it was her wrapped around your body.

Then you forgot about Gerri and who she seemed to be earlier — someone completely different, a version of her that you felt distant from. Laying in her bed surrounded by nothing but her in the dark silence of her bedroom, the sounds of the party muffled, you truly felt like you had come home to her like you had wanted when you got off the train.

Before you fell asleep, you saw your phone light up with the notification that Winona requested to follow your Instagram account. 

That made you feel pretty good.

Gerri must’ve gone to bed late for you didn’t notice that she got into bed with you until the next morning when you woke up and felt her mess of wavy brown hair stretched out against your bare clavicle and tickling your skin. She was facing you, her hand tucked under her cheek and her other arm draped around her clothed midriff.

She was now wearing an old shirt she’d gotten with you when you went to Venice Beach together one summer, and it made you smile when you realised how worn it had gotten over the years of usage.

Watching her tranquil sleeping expression and listening to the soft inhales and exhales of her sleeping form reminded you of all the times you’d slept over at her place. You’d been friends with Gerri since childhood, but you were mostly thinking of the time you spent together before the school year started.

It felt like things changed last summer, though you couldn’t exactly place a finger on how. Maybe it had been the knowledge that you were going to move away from each other in September, but you just saw Gerri differently.

It was warmer when you were with her and she felt dearer to you. Your heart would beat nearly twice as fast sometimes when she got close enough to you. That summer, things were just lighter and gentler, things smelled sweeter and the time spent with Gerri felt… perfect.

Everything that summer was perfect.

While watching her in the peaceful silence of her bedroom, you felt like things really were as they used to be for the first time since both you and Gerri moved away.

And that made you really, really happy.

Gerri stirred and she rolled onto her back, groaning softly and rubbing her face before stretching her arms upwards. She went limp for a few moments as her arms laid back above her head. Then she rubbed her eyes and opened them as she exhaled softly. She turned to you, meeting your eyes as you were on your side looking at her.

You felt like she was really looking at you now, her undivided attention on you. Ever since you met up with her at the station, it felt like she was always thinking about something else — anything else but you.

“I’m sorry about the party last night,” Gerri said quietly the moment she turned onto her side, bringing her knees up and tucking a hand under her pillow. “I really didn’t expect for there to be so many people. When I left to pick you up, there were only a few friends here.”

Looking at her fresh morning face and her messy brown hair and listening to the soft rasp of her quiet voice made you feel so warm; you were completely willing to forget all about last night.

“I get it,” you replied with a supportive smile. “It’s totally fine. I’m just glad we get to have time to ourselves now.”

Gerri smiled then, and you felt yourself flush at the sight of her. 

“Besides, I sorta made a friend,” you added. “Winona and I exchanged numbers last night and she requested to follow my Instagram.”

Her face formed a bit of a dubious expression when you said that. “Really?” she asked. “She, like, never talks. She’s Sam’s cousin but we’ve had probably about two conversations since I first met her in October.”

“I wouldn’t have thought her to be the quiet type,” you said. “She was super nice and talkative with me.”

There was a momentary indiscernible look on her face before she redirected her focus and started talking about something else. “Do you wanna go for lunch?” she proposed after checking the time on her phone and seeing that it was eleven in the afternoon. “There’s a really good all-day breakfast place I know.”

The both of you got dressed together in the same room while talking about Gerri’s classes and how you felt about living alone and without a roommate. She talked about her parents visiting next weekend and how much she missed Poppy, the dog they’d just gotten before she had to leave for school.

Gerri was almost convinced that they bought her as her replacement while she was gone. But she didn’t care all that much; she was a good replacement. She ended up liking the chocolate lab quite a bit in spite of her lack of experience with pets.

You wondered if any of her other friends knew about Poppy and how Gerri initially hated when she licked at her face, and how she eventually warmed up to it to the point that she had the puppy sleeping in her bed nearly every night before she moved out.

There were a lot of things you knew about Gerri that you sort of hoped no one else knew about her. Last night, there was so much about her that you felt so distant from, like a large part of her was unknown to you. You could understand the rationality of it for it’d been a few months since you last saw her, and anyone’s first year would bring about some change.

But there were parts of Gerri you just wanted to yourself — parts of her that were genuinely, sincerely her.

A thought that made your chest tighten ran through your mind: What if who Gerri was had changed? 

What if there were parts of her you couldn’t get to know the way you used to know her? What if things could never be like how they used to?

The train of thought followed you all throughout the walk to the restaurant, but was discarded and momentarily forgotten when you and Gerri were seated at the all-day breakfast place she recommended.

For a little while as you went through the menu together, discussing what to order and bringing up shared memories that the both of you were reminded of the further your conversation progressed, things suddenly just felt so… natural and perfect.

Gerri laughed at something you said and you lifted your eyes from the menu in front of you to watch how a wide smile spread across her pretty lightly-freckled face still fresh of makeup. Her lively laugh relaxed into a soft fit of giggles and she met your eyes, which for an inexplicable reason made you flush and look back down to your menu.

After months of not seeing their best friend, anyone would’ve felt as eager as you to finally spend time with them. Maybe it was precisely because of the time you’d spent away from her that made things feel so different, but sitting across from Gerri, immersing yourself in the feeling of being the only person who had her attention, you felt that something had changed.

It wasn’t that things were in any way extraordinarily different, though you were sure at least some things had changed since the summer, but instead it was that something had changed within you. And it felt profound, in a way, and you wished to understand where the feeling had come from and what it meant, but before you could, someone approached the table and took Gerri’s focus away from you.

You didn’t pay much attention once Gerri exclaimed excitedly at the sight of the girl standing by your table, and instead you redirected your attention to your phone. You accepted Winona’s request from last night and followed her back, distractedly looking through her posts as you listened in on Gerri’s conversation. 

If you weren’t looking right at her while she was speaking, it was almost hard to tell that it was Gerri talking. She sounded different — the rises and falls in her tone, the vocabulary she used, the inside jokes she referenced that you didn't understand, and the people she talked about that you didn’t know.

A part of you tried to tell you how delusional and obsessive you were being, and that maybe you just felt insecure about not being as much a part of Gerri’s life as you used to. But even so, you couldn’t stop the angry bitter pit that formed in your stomach, sticking to your insides like hot tar the longer you listened to their conversation.

At one point or another, you had subtly reminded Gerri that you only had a week with her; there were only three days left in your stay, and the past two days were filled with what you could only describe as being forgotten about.

You understood that Gerri was still a full-time student with things to do and that she wasn’t going to drop everything just because you were visiting — although some selfish part of you did entertain the idea for a few minutes when you were on the train fantasising about your trip.

But the last two days, Gerri had sometimes left for classes while you were sleeping, leaving you alone to wake up to her roommate as your only company, or a completely empty place without so much as letting you know where she was or when she’d be back. She’d stay out for a few hours past the last of her classes to go out with her friends, leaving you back at her place like you were her pet.

There was one occasion that got you particularly upset when Gerri had left in the afternoon only for you to find that she had gone out to meet her friends at a cafe. It had only been for an hour or two but you felt disrespected and abandoned all the same.

The only thing that had brought you any form of comfort since your first night here was the returning feeling of having slept in Gerri’s bed that one night, the stillness and permanence of her in her books and blankets and posters, a side of her that you at the time had felt no one knew.

During your lonely hours away from her spending most of your time in her bedroom, you became curious at one point when you realised you hadn’t yet seen Gerri’s guitar. She used to practise nearly every day and since you’d arrived, you hadn’t seen her pick it up even once. 

You knew she brought it for when you hugged her goodbye the day that she left, she had her guitar carefully stored in the backseat in its protective casing. 

One evening you started looking for it and found it tucked away somewhere almost completely obscured in her closet behind her jackets and laying against the back panelling. 

It was true that there were some parts of Gerri you wanted all to yourself, and if she hadn’t played in a while let alone ever brought her guitar out, no one but you knew that she played nor that it was a hobby of hers. But seeing it stored away, almost hidden from everything… 

It felt different. 

It felt horrible.

When she came back that night you felt inexplicably bitter and cold to her, but if she noticed how upset you were she didn’t mention it.

An afternoon came when the two of you finally made plans to go out together on your own. In a few hours, you and Gerri were going to a drive-in theatre a city away. A movie from the film series the both of you used to love when you were younger had come out, and you were mostly seeing it for nostalgia’s sake, but also because you’d be able to spend time together.

Gerri was talking about what she did last night when she came back a bit later than she said she would, detailing her outing with David and Sam. 

There were two days left before you had to take the train back to your place, so although you were upset with Gerri, you were determined not to let anything ruin the last little while you had with her, even if that meant biting your tongue when she talked about things you would much rather not listen to and avoiding bringing up what you were upset about.

Trying to change the subject quickly while Gerri stopped talking to chew on a pizza bite, you said, “Winona said she might be in town, so we could hang out.”

She made a face as if what you said was funny and spoke with her mouth partially full, “We? Like, you and me?”

“No — her and I,” you replied. “‘In town’ meaning, like, my town. Where I live.”

Gerri chewed while she stared at you and you couldn’t decipher why it was so bizarre for her that you’d made a friend while you were here. Then she swallowed and lifted another pizza bite to her mouth before asking, “What do you even talk about with her? She’s super boring.”

“She’s not,” you defended, now feeling a bit agitated not because Gerri insulted Winona but because she was acting so oddly and you couldn’t understand why. “How would you know she’s boring if you never talk with her?”

“I don’t talk with her because she’s boring.”

Looking up from your phone, you answered, “Well, maybe she’s boring because she just doesn’t want to talk to you.”

Gerri put her hands up in sarcastic surrender. “Sorry,” she scoffed. “Didn’t know you were so close.”

Thankfully, before any sort of argument started, Zoey came out from her room and mentioned a frat party that was happening, and that the guys were friends with David and wanted to throw him a party before he had to leave for Paris.

You watched Gerri’s expression as Zoey gave her more details, and you watched how her mind seemed practically made up the moment she was told that her group of friends were going.

She didn’t even have to be asked to go before she said, “Yeah, okay, I’ll be there.” When you shifted in your spot, she looked over at you. “Oh, Y/N, you can come too. It'll be fun.”

An afterthought. 

That’s all you were to her.

What were you to do anyways if you didn’t go?

“I don’t know anyone going, Ger,” you told her nervously as you fiddled with the rings on your fingers.

“I’ll be there with you the whole time. It’s fine,” she tried to reassure you as the two of you and Zoey took the streetcar down to where the party was a few blocks away. “I’ve been to, like, hundreds of these. Y/N, you’ll like it.”

In spite of everything that had been happening the past few days, Gerri telling you that she’d be there with you for the party brought you… a lot of comfort. It made you feel like she knew how important it was to you that she was there with you, which almost sort of reestablished your relationship with her that you sometimes felt like she forgot about.

Maybe it was the feeling of being caught up in what Gerri told you on the way there, but when you were walking up to the frat house together, you didn’t think twice before telling her, “You look really pretty, Gerri.”

And she did look really pretty; you weren’t just saying it because of how you felt.

Gerri turned her head to look at you and you saw her eyes meet yours, her lips parting after a moment of looking your face over with a sincerity that seemed meaningful to you before Zoey opened the front door, inviting a rupture of noise and cheers onto the porch that stopped Gerri from saying whatever she was going to say.

Sam gave you a quick hello then pulled Gerri into the house at the sight of her and you followed behind her a bit uncomfortably, looking around at the crowds of people that was easily at least more than fifteen times the size of the party that you walked into when you first arrived.  

For the first hour and a half of the night, Gerri didn’t even look back at you trailing behind her wherever she went unless you were all doing shots together, most of which she did without you anyways. 

It seemed to you that she only paid you any attention when she could remember you were there.

When someone tapped you on the shoulder, you turned to see a familiar strawberry blonde standing behind you with a friendly sober smile. “I’ve been looking for you,” Winona said, and you felt comfortable believing her.

“It’s so chaotic here,” she told you, looking around at the bustling party. Then you realised for the first time that Gerri was telling the truth — she sort of was a bit of an introverted person. She never seemed like it until now. 

She looked back over to you. “There’s a small terrace on the roof. Wanna go up?”

“I thought I heard a few guys say they wanted to go for a smoke up there but couldn’t get the terrace door unlocked,” you recalled.

Winona gave you a small sly smile then reached into her jeans’ pocket and subtly flashed you a silver key before quickly sliding it back into her pocket. At the sight of your surprised expression, she said, “The key was hanging from a nail at the top of the doorframe.”

You laughed and she took your hand, pulling through the crowd of people and swiping a few things from the buffet counter in the kitchen before the both of you headed to the highest floor where the terrace door was.

Distracted by Winona, you hadn’t seen the way Gerri followed you with her eyes through the crowd, watching with scorn brewing in her chest the moment she saw your interlaced hands peek from between the crowd of people as you followed Sam’s cousin upstairs.

It was nearly two whole hours that you spent with Winona, and you really couldn’t believe it when you checked the time on your phone by chance when you got a notification.

“Is it really almost eleven now?” she asked, surprised. 

The pizza and drinks she brought up were long finished, and the two of you didn’t drink even once. You’d sobered up from the shots earlier, and it felt so nice to finally have a sincere conversation with someone.

Winona was nice. She was creative and sensitive and, for whatever reason, she very obviously held you in high regards. 

You enjoyed talking with her and you felt a bit terrible for being what you could only describe as pessimistic, but there was something she was missing that you just felt you needed to have. She was nice for conversations and in every platonic sense, and you could see yourself enjoying her company in your future too. 

But there was a figure that formed in your mind each time she flushed at your inadvertent compliments and the nervous way she played with the sleeves of her shirt when she said she couldn’t help but stalk your Instagram a little when you first accepted her request.

A figure that stood out starkly from Winona took shape in your mind. But you couldn’t figure out who it was, only that Winona could never fill it.

So when she leaned forward and tried to kiss you when the two of you stood and went to step down from the terrace so she could go home and study for a midterm that she had in the morning, you turned your head the slightest bit, allowing her lips to just miss yours, but enough for her to get the point.

“I’m sorry,” she quickly apologised. “I’m sorry, I must have misread things…”

You quickly reassured her and reached out for her hand which she nearly pulled away from you before she let you take it. “No, it’s fine. You’re fine,” you said.

“I didn’t make this weird, did I?” she asked. “I mean… It’s not uncomfortable now, is it?”

Your heart was pained when you watched her guilty eyes meet yours. She really was so nice. But… you couldn’t do it. 

Not with her. 

“No, you didn’t. It’s totally, totally fine,” you told her. “You’re a really cool person, Winona, and I’m so glad to have met you while visiting here. But, I…”

Her eyes searched yours before she said, “But you like someone else.”

You weren’t sure if that was true or not. So you just looked at her in a helpless sort of way. “I don’t know,” you answered. “I’m just sorry, I don’t want to make you feel embarrassed or upset.”

Winona shook her head. “I’m not. I’ll get over it. You’re… really cool too,” she admitted. “I can still visit you, right? And we’re still friends?”

Nodding, you answered confidently, “Yeah. Of course.”

You navigated your way to the back door for Winona to be able to leave quietly. She didn’t live closeby, and was only staying with Sam while she visited for his birthday. So you waited with her while her Uber came so she didn’t have to take public transport. You told her that you’d text her when you were back home, and that you’d plan a weekend together where she could stay at your place.

You felt pretty satisfied for having handled that the way you did, and you were happy that you were still friends with Winona. 

Feeling pretty fired up from the interaction and perhaps a bit inspired by Winona’s attempt to kiss you and the overt intimacy that came with it, you decided to talk with Gerri. 

You weren’t sure what you would say nor what kinds of feelings you’d be trying to convey to her, only that you had something to say and that you didn’t want to keep pretending that you didn’t. 

The feeling was short-lived for when you searched for Gerri and even finding the confidence in yourself to ask around for her, you eventually found yourself peeking in one of the bedrooms on the ground floor and seeing her sitting alone with David, his hand in her pretty brown hair with his lips kissing down her perfumed neck. 

Perhaps it would’ve been better to slip out quietly, but your legs had other intentions when they forced you to stumble back against the bedroom door and alert the two of them of your presence. 

Something alike to an apology came out of you, but it was more a medley of unintelligible half-spoken words than anything. 

David, now feeling a bit uncomfortable as the confrontation-avoidant person he was, stood up from the bed and apologised, but to who and for what reason you could not comprehend. 

Gerri watched as he left the room and you heard but did not process what he turned around and told her before he left, but it made her repress a laugh. 

Eventually Gerri stood too and when she approached you, you realised you were still standing at the bedroom door, stunned. She ran her hands down her jeans and asked, “Are you surprised?”

“… What?” you managed to say.

“Are you surprised?” she repeated. “I didn’t even know he was into me like that. I mean… No clue.”

You searched her eyes for something and though you weren’t entirely sure what you were looking for, you knew that you weren’t able to find it. She could hardly meet your eyes and you felt that perhaps she truly didn’t care about what you thought of her relationship with David, and you suddenly realised you really had grown distant from Gerri this time.

“Ger, do you wanna play?” David called from the living room where an empty space had been cleared for the beer pong table.

“Yeah, just a second!” she answered and without even turning to you, she moved to leave the bedroom.

Without thinking twice about it, you reached out and wrapped your hand around Gerri’s wrist, tugging her back into the open bedroom. “Don’t you care about what I think?” you suddenly asked her.

Gerri’s eyebrows pushed together as if confused by your outburst. “Okay,” she gave in and tore her arm wrist out of your hand. She massaged it with her fingers then let it fall to her side. “Fine. What do you think about it, Y/N? Go on. Tell me.”

You didn’t appreciate the sarcasm and resentment in her voice but you answered anyways, “You don’t even know David. Not really. Do you… even know his favourite song? His favourite band? Do you know what kinds of movies he hates? You’ve never even been to his house!”

You knew you were grasping at straws; your bubbling anger and upset had burst into a nonsensical dump of emotions and irritability.

“What the fuck are you even talking about?” Gerri asked, leaning forward and drilling her eyes into yours. “No one cares about that shit but you. Like, movies and songs?”

Her words pricked at your skin and you felt on edge. Your face felt hot and your anger only began to pique, but suddenly just looking at Gerri put some kind of silence to it all. And you felt like you were about to cry. 

Taking your tongue between your teeth to avoid letting your tears form, you gritted out quietly, “You used to care about that stuff too.” 

But your words didn’t reach her, like she hadn’t even heard them at all.

Gerri ran her fingers through her hair and scoffed. Her hands dropped to her sides. “Listen, Y/N… I thought you would’ve been happy about David and I, but-but…” Her hands waved around in front of her wildly as she tried to find her words. “But you’re acting like such a jealous bitch!”

It felt like the floor was about to collapse from underneath you.

“For once, you’re not the one getting the guys and that makes you crazy. Well, guess what? This is the real world, so grow up,” she bit.

You looked away, staring at some spot on the floor people kept stepping over, completely unaware and uncaring of the arguing you and Gerri were having. A part of you wished someone would at least give you a judgemental look so you’d feel for a moment that your entire world wasn’t what was happening right in front of you.

“What’s your problem?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“I came here to see you and spend time with you.”

She threw her arms up, hinting towards the party behind her. “Well, hello? Where do you think we are?”

“Gerri, this isn’t hanging out together; it’s hanging out with all these other people,” you said, then looked around at the crowd. They all seemed so far. Or rather, you just felt like a complete outsider. “I don’t even know who these people are. I came to be with you.”

“So, it’s my fault you’re antisocial as fuck and can’t make friends?”

Afraid that if you spoke any louder then your voice would break and shatter any sort of confidence you made it seem like you had, you met her eyes and whispered, “Fuck you.”

“Y/N, you try and paint yourself as some kind of victim here, but you’re being so fucking clingy and posessive! I’m not the spineless indecisive person I was before. I’m not just going to be your pet,” she retorted, her voice raising. 

You’d never seen Gerri so upset before.

Maybe she was right.

“It’s just not going to be the same anymore,” she added with finality, and you could swear that you couldn’t hear your heartbeat in your ears for nearly eight whole seconds.

Had your heart stopped?

People couldn’t function without their heartbeats, could they?

You raised your hand to your chest and massaged your fingertips into your shirt, feeling your heart’s beating beyond your ribcage.

Slowly, your hearing returned and you landed back on the ground, your legs trembling slightly and each and every overwhelming noise from the surrounding party bouncing around the inside of your skull, fracturing your very being from the inside out. 

“Are you in love with me or something?” Gerri inquired mockingly. “You’re being so fucking obsessive and weird.”

You were silent as her words sunk in, and soon all you could do was internalise her accusations, her bitter words that told you nothing but that you had been the odd one all along. You had come expecting something that you wouldn’t have ever gotten, all because you couldn’t understand the months you’d spent away from Gerri really did change things. 

Were you so dim-witted and excessive that it took being yelled at, pushing Gerri until she was at her wit’s end, to finally understand?

To finally understand that things… weren’t going to be the same anymore.

“What?” Gerri urged you for a response. 

There must’ve been some kind of expression on your face, a concerning one, for Gerri’s face untensed a little as she looked at you. She said your name. 

You watched the way her lips moved around each syllable but you couldn’t hear it. But you wished you could, because you weren’t sure of the next time you’d ever hear her say it again.

Whatever functioning part of your brain forced your body to work on autopilot you hurriedly gathered your thoughts together to internally thank, because before you knew it you were rounding Gerri and pushing through the mess of people that you just couldn’t seem to get away from. 

Gerri’s voice called out from behind you and you thought she was calling your name again, over and over, maybe even trailing behind you as she made an attempt to follow you out to wherever you were going.

But you weren’t sure where you were going. 

All that you knew was that you needed to leave. 

The calling of your name meshed with the sounds of blasting music and shrill laughter and incessant chatter allowed you to forget for just a moment what your name was. 

What did it sound like in Gerri’s mouth? What did she look like saying it? 

Pushing through the crowd, bodies brushing up against yours and nearly asphyxiating you should it not have been for the way you forcefully pushed them out of the way, you almost forgot you had your own — a body — and your mind moved to think about what it felt like to have Gerri touch yours, what it felt like to feel her shoulder brush against yours all those times you slept in the same bed as her like that first night at her place.

It became especially hard to breathe and you feared what would happen if you collapsed just inches from the door, but your hand reached the doorknob just in time and you stepped out onto the porch.

The cold air burned your lungs when you inhaled but it dried your cheeks, and you regained feeling in your body only for you to realise that everything hurt.

Your chest was tight and your throat was sore, your lungs felt like they were constricting and your limbs felt like they might detach from their sockets at any second. And that fucking thrumming against your ribcage made you want to rip your heart out of your chest.

As if clawing your way through to your beating heart, you scratched at your chest through your shirt and felt with the tips of your fingers the pendant of a necklace Gerri gave you three summers ago that you couldn’t remember why you wore out tonight.

Pulling your shirt down just enough to reach it, you wrapped your fingers around the thin silver chain and tugged it down firmly, forcing the clasp in the back to snap. You eyed the pendant for a second or two, looking at it laying in the centre of your palm.

She bought it for you because it looked scarily similar to the small seashell you brought her when you came back from your trip to Malta a few months prior. 

You couldn’t remember if you’d told her, but you brought it back for her because it reminded you so much of her eye colour.

A voice called Gerri’s name from inside and you’re reined back down to earth. You step off of the porch and toss the necklace along with the pendant into a nearby bush, feeling like you abhorred the childish memories you realised you had been clinging onto for years.

“Gerri!” the voice raised.

She turned her head, forced to abandon the endeavour to find out where you had run off to. “Wh… What?” she stuttered, looking over to the beer pong table in the middle of the living room where someone had pulled her towards.

One of her other friends raised his eyebrows at her expectantly. 

“Come on, it’s your turn,” David urged, lifting a small white plastic ball to her.

Zoey let you into the dorm albeit feeling irritated because she’d come home early from the party to have some time alone with her boyfriend. You promised her that you’d be quick. 

You felt a compelling urge to take one more look at Gerri’s guitar stashed in the back of her closet, so you did.

The stickers on its case, memories of listening to her play for hours, the dedication and love she used to put into learning it, a song she’d learned for you once on your birthday as a surprise played on that very guitar, all shrouded and hidden away. 

You closed the closet and left for the station.

For a moment you considered texting Gerri that you were leaving then recalled that she’d never given you the kindness to know where she was or when she was returning nor if or when she was leaving at all. 

The bus took you to the station and you tucked your phone in your pocket. It took a few minutes in line to buy a new ticket and then in half an hour you’d be well on your way back home.

There was nothing for you here, and you should’ve realised it long before tonight. 

“Y/N!” a voice suddenly called from behind and you turned instinctively to see Gerri running up to you, looking dishevelled and out of breath. 

“How did you know I’d be here?” you intoned after she stopped in front of you and caught her breath. 

Gerri hesitated a moment before saying hastily, “Uh, Winona. I asked Sam to call her. I-I thought you might be with her but she told me that you said something tonight about missing home.”

“You swim here?” you asked, looking at the state of her hair.

As if just then gaining self-awareness, she ran her fingers through her hair and brushed it back behind her ears. “No,” she breathed out with a little laugh. “It started raining and the streetcar would only take me until a few blocks down, and I didn’t want to wait for the next one because I thought it’d be too late.”

She was rambling. 

It used to be endearing, but now it sounded sorta stupid.

Everything seemed pretty stupid right now — even you.

Then she waited for you to say something in response, but you had nothing to say.

She raised her hand to show you the necklace you had thrown away earlier dangling from her fingers, the silver seashell pendant hanging from the end. 

“You dropped this,” she said, still panting slightly. The words sounded optimistic as she wasn’t entirely sure if you purposefully discarded it or accidentally lost it.

“Keep it,” you told her.

Gerri’s arm retracted and she laid the necklace in her other palm. Her actions were slow and it seemed that she was trying to make time for her to say something before she put the necklace away, but although her lips parted and her eyes flickered up a few times to look at you, she said nothing. Carefully, she slid the necklace into her jacket pocket. 

“I thought you had your departure ticket booked for tomorrow night,” she thought aloud, evidently stalling as she tried to come up with something useful to say. She looked up from her pocket to you and ran her hands down her coat nervously.

“Bought another one so I could leave early.”

Having it spoken out loud, putting it out there verbally that you were leaving early, planted a feeling of alarm in Gerri’s chest. She inhaled sharply and stepped towards you. She opened her mouth to say something, but the station’s speakers announced that your train was to leave within the next ten minutes.

Adjusting the strap of your backpack up your shoulder, you said, “I have to go.”

“O… Okay,” Gerri replied, stepping back so you could turn and wheel your luggage behind you. “Safe trip. Have one, I mean.”

The escalator down to Platform Five was just ahead, becoming closer with each of your steps, and you traced your path from the last time you were at the station. Recalling it pained you slightly as you thought back to how hopeful and eager you had been when you stepped off the train last week.

You expected so much — too much.

So much had changed since then, and it was only a week ago.

How hadn’t you realised how grave a few months’ difference could make until just an hour ago?

You felt so stupid. Everything felt so… stupid. 

Your face was hot and you were boiling in your jacket. Your bag was too heavy and your luggage was hurting your wrist. Then tears were forming in your eyes and you raised your other hand to wipe at your eyes. 

The rapid clicking of padding shoes echoed behind you and before you could look back, your wrist was taken and pulled back, forcing you to turn and drop your luggage. A hand came to the back of your head and in spite of how quick it all was, her hands were soft and her caresses were careful.

An arm rounded your waist and your body was pulled against Gerri’s.

Her lips were suddenly pressed against yours and you smelled a whiff of her perfume, now having faded away throughout the night. But you could smell it clearly now that you were pressed up against her, and she wouldn’t let any space come between the two of you. 

Like last summer and all the summers before, all the years spent knowing Gerri as your closest friend and your greatest love, you were swathed in her as if her scent and the feeling of her body, the feeling of her lips, were a warm blanket.

When your lips parted from hers, green eyes flickered down your face and Gerri whispered, “Why are you crying?”

You looked away from her and quickly swiped at your eyes.

Keeping her other arm around your waist, she raised her hand to your face and swatted your hands away so she could wipe your tears for you. She kissed your damp cheeks and seemed to not be able to get enough of feeling your skin against her lips, so she kept kissing you.

You turned your head and Gerri stopped kissing you to tilt her head and keep her eyes on yours. It didn’t seem like you wanted to talk. It didn’t seem like you knew what you wanted to say much less how you felt.

So she started talking instead.

She started with: “I’m sorry.”

It didn’t look like you believed her, so she cupped your cheek and made you look at her.  

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” she repeated.

You were looking into her eyes now and she had your attention, but you were silent. You were waiting for her to say something more, and she had a lot to say. She didn’t know how to start it all, so she just dove into it.

“I, um… I used to see you every day, and it became hard to be here without you. I had to make — force — a different version of myself to blend in with these assholes. It was easier than missing you. It was easier than…” She trailed off and you wondered if she’d give up and just let you leave. 

In spite of how confidently she spoke, her fingers tightened around your waist and you felt how nervous she was. Her hand moved down your wrist and her fingers danced anxiously against your palm.

But she continued. 

“It was easier than admitting to myself that I was in love with my best friend. That I am in love with my best friend,” she finally said, exhaling deeply, her breath trembling. She looked away from you and over at the floor behind you.

You followed her eyes to survey the sincerity of what she was saying. It seemed true. It all seemed true. It felt true.

Then she took a breath and met your eyes again.

“I thought that maybe I just needed to grow up — to realise that I couldn’t be that same old small-town girl who’s never gotten shit-faced drunk or who’s never had sex with a guy,” she tried to explain. 

She was stuttering a little. 

“I mean, god, Y/N, the people here are fucking crazy. But I don’t enjoy it. Not even a little. I hate being around people I don’t know — people I don’t like. I don’t want to have sex with guys.” Then she scoffed and in a quick drop of her hand that seemed the slightest bit subconscious, she took your hand. “I don’t even like guys. I mean, I don’t think I do. Or at least the ones here. I don’t know.”

Gerri’s breathing became quick and you could see that she was trying not to look away from you. “Why aren’t you saying anything? Please say something,” she pleaded.

Your lips parted and you were going to say something, you were, but Gerri suddenly blurted out, “I want to be your girlfriend. And I wanna kiss you again.” She leaned down and kissed your chin.

“I want to be able to kiss you there,” she whispered.

She kissed your cheeks and your temples.

“I want to kiss you here.”

Your knuckles were lifted up to her lips and she kissed each of your five fingers, looking into your eyes. Then she lowered your hand and leaned forward to kiss your lips again. “And here,” she breathed against you. “I want to kiss you here. Again. Whenever I want to. Whenever you want to.”

An announcement came onto the speakers.

Five minutes left until the train was to leave.

The announcement reined you back down to earth and you looked around at the people passing, rushing to their trains, children in-hand, perhaps meeting their families elsewhere, going to meetings.

Everyone else — where were they off to?

“Am I too late…?” Gerri whispered.

You looked back over to her. 

Everyone else… 

Did it matter? Nothing else mattered when you were with Gerri. Nothing else ever mattered when you were with her.

You shook your head and uttered a soft, “I love you too, Gerri.”

“Y/N…” she said quietly. “Things won’t be the same. If we break up, if we fight. Even if we’re together until we’re old, things will change. And between us, it’ll be different.”

“No, it’ll be just the same,” you finally replied. “It’ll always just be you and me. That isn’t any different from how it’s always been, right?”

Gerri let out a noise that sounded like a laugh or some kind of relieved exhale and she let go of your hand and wrapped her arms around your shoulders. She started apologising again and again for how she’d been treating you, for how stupid she was acting.

In half-intelligible teary words, she said she wished it could just be you and her again like it was last summer and all the other summers before. She hated how much she’d changed while you were gone.

Your bag slipped from your arm and you hugged her back, letting her cry into your shoulder in the middle of the train station. “I miss it all so much too, Gerri,” you confessed. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Then you started crying, and Jesus, did that make you feel like an idiot.

“I really hate Winona,” Gerri confessed and hugged you tighter, which made you laugh like an idiot too. 

Some things just don’t change.

And that felt good.

[clementine-thedestroyer]

Purls for my love - Miguel O’Hara x reader

Warnings/tags: Fem!reader, Miguel struggling to knit. Miguel still implied to be rich and to enjoy spoiling his partner. (going say they’re engaged by now) Reader is not pregnant but Miguel kinda wants her to be soon/one day. Very domestic, very fluffy.

This is a loosely connected sequel to Sew cute, and this idea came from @reverieblondie in the comments of that post. I’ve been wanting to write this since their comment! But I’ve only just now managed to-

You sneak up behind Miguel, peeking over his shoulder and trying to see what had him so frustrated. You can’t help but feel a bit shocked when you find Miguel angrily hunched over a pair of knitting needles, a skein of soft light gray yarn sitting in his lap and a determined look set on his face as he struggles with a set of messily knit rows.

You grin, standing up from your desk and happily checking over the seams of the skirt you had just finished: a simple ankle length circle skirt- flowy and pretty with a thick waist band that you knew would cinch your waist nicely. It had turned out nice, you already had most of the fabric you needed, and the project had given you a convenient excuse to try out the rolled hem presser foot Miguel had bought for you a few weeks ago. You had been meaning to add some more formal pieces to your wardrobe recently, and this skirt was a simple piece- hardly even needed a pattern- that you figured you could dress up or down easily depending on the occasion.

You poked your head out of your sewing room, grinning when you saw Miguel’s state of unawareness. He’s sitting on the couch and staring intently downwards at his phone or laptop- likely sorting out some ill-timed work issue. You bundle up the skirt and hold it tight against your chest, unable to stifle a quiet laugh as you run behind the couch- making a beeline for the stairs.

You’re sure Miguel heard you. He must have- with the way your bare feet thump loudly against the hardwood floors as you run. But he doesn’t call out for you or even look up from his phone.

You worry about it for a moment- Miguel was always quick to spot you trying to be sneaky. It was almost like he’d notice you faster when you tried to sneak up behind him or surprise him with something.

Miguel found it funny to tease you when you were trying to be sneaky. He wouldn’t try to figure out what you were planning- or at least, wouldn’t tell you if he did find out- but you could always expect to hear Miguel’s amused, rumbling laugh and some mild teasing over your failed attempts at subtlety.

He was probably just focused on dealing with a work thing- and you push his silence to the back of your mind as you continue up the stairs, going into your and Miguel’s shared bedroom and locking the door behind you.

You quickly start kicking off your pants- stumbling over the fabric in your haste and nearly falling flat on your rear. After untangling the pants from your feet- opting to leave them out for you to change back into later- you step into the skirt and pull it up.

The waistband sits perfectly at your waist- drawing in the otherwise loose and flowy fabric in a way that emphasizes your curves. You switch out the shirt you’d been wearing around the house for a simple loose white blouse, and when you get it all tucked in and situated you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face as you do a little twirl.

The fabric flutters prettily around you as your spin comes to a stop- settling as you smooth it out and look up to the mirror. It really does look nice.

You wet your hands in the bathroom sink- running them through your hair to smooth down any frizziness. Once you’re satisfied with your results, you smile wide and clamber down the stairs- excited to show Miguel your new skirt.

You reach the bottom of the stairs, but pause when you notice Miguel still engrossed in his phone with a rather frustrated look on his face. You walk up behind him, peeking over his shoulder and trying to see what had him so frustrated. You can’t help but be a bit shocked when you realize it’s not his phone or even laptop in his lap.

Instead, you find a skein of soft light gray yarn and Miguel angrily hunched over a pair of knitting needles- a determined look set on his face as he struggles with a set of messily knit rows.

Miguel groans and runs a hand through his hair. “¡No mames! ¿Por qué es tan difícil?” He growls, dropping the knitting needles and leaning back against the couch- flinching when the back of his head fell on your arm where it rested along the back of the couch. He looked back at you, the remnants of a startle on his face as he reached a hand back to brush a wayward strand of hair out of your face. “I didn’t see you there, love. Nearly gave me a heart attack.”

You nod, not really processing his words- instead focusing on the absolute mess of yarn in Miguel’s lap that you think is supposed to be knitting.

“Miguel… what are you doing?” You ask, your brow furrowed.

You’re a bit confused, frankly. Before this, Miguel had never shown any interest in doing any sewing, knitting, or needlework. Unless, of course, throwing money at patterns and fabrics he wanted to see you use and leaving them stacked by your sewing machine as a silent way to say “I want to see you in this” counted as sewing. (You weren’t complaining- he never chose anything horribly extravagant or labor intensive, and the way he’d puff his chest in pride and hold you close constantly anytime you wore something you made outside the house filled you with a warm fuzzy feeling that practically washed all your worries away… although you do currently have a bunch of baby clothes patterns from him that you’re not sure what you’re supposed to do with, considering you aren’t even pregnant). But, in general, Miguel had just always seemed like he preferred watching you sew over trying to do any projects of his own.

Miguel sighed, and you were pulled out of your thoughts as he nudged his open laptop towards you, watching your face with apprehension.

The laptop has a knitting guide pulled up. You squint at the small print, leaning closer over the back of the couch until your feet come off the ground, then picking them up and holding them against your rear as you balance on a part of the couch you probably shouldn’t be putting your full weight on. One of your arms is clinging tightly to the cushion, keeping you from sliding backwards as you stretch your other arm to reach the trackpad of Miguel’s laptop.

You start to scroll to the top of the web page- at least until Miguel pulls the laptop away from you, setting it on the ottoman before pushing the knitting stuff to the side and pulling you the rest of the way over the couch with a sigh.

“You shouldn’t be doing that. It’s not good for the furniture, and you could get hurt.” He says, looking down at you with his best attempt at a stern expression.

You huff, rolling your eyes and making a bit of a show of pouting (because you’re not going to hurt yourself, and the couch had a metal frame, it would be fine! But mostly because Miguel’s scolding reminds you of being told to not do the same thing by your parents). But it’s quickly forgotten once you get the computer back into your lap and scroll to the top of the webpage.

It’s a very simple tutorial over knitting hats, but what catches your attention is the very prominent note of “including child and infant sizing”. Before you can say anything, Miguel quickly buts in- speaking a bit hurriedly. “For a coworker- she’s expecting. The office is having a baby shower tomorrow… her kid’s due in December, so- um- baby hats.”

You hum in acknowledgment, looking down at the mess of a knitting project in Miguel’s lap and scooting closer to him. “You could’ve asked me for help, you know.”

Miguel turns to you, his tone questioning. “You know how to knit?”

“I’ve dabbled. I know enough to be able to help you with this- but only if you want me too, of course.” You say, shrugging as you take the needles and work attached to them and starting to look over the stitches.

“Yes. Please.” Miguel replies, immediately leaning closer to you and watching as you go over the stitches- ready for any advice you’d be able to give him.

You look between the rows of stitches and the pictures on the website, frowning as you spot a rather immediate issue. You turn to Miguel, holding up the work and giving him a questioning look. “Miguel, did you mean to do a garter stitch here? The pattern you’re using calls for stockinette.”

Miguel’s face freezes, then falls, and he lets out a deep sigh dropping his head on to your shoulder defeatedly. “I give up.”

You frown, nudging Miguel. “You said the baby showers in a couple days?”

Miguel grumbles, snaking his hands around your waist and hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “I’ll just pick up a gift card on my way to work.”

“Miguel- don’t just give up- this was a good start” You say, trying to get him out of his mope, only to be cut off by a tight squeeze of your waist and Miguel nuzzling deeper into the crook of your neck as he grumbles. “Nope. I give up.”

You frown, nudging him again and giving him a worried look- a bit of guilt building in your chest at the thought of your words being the reason Miguel gives up on his project. “Why are you so discouraged all of a sudden?”

“It’s not all of a sudden. I’ve been trying to do this for four hours- I’m frustrated and tired and confused- and I’ve missed you.” Miguel says, smushing his face deeper into the crook of your neck.

You ruffle Miguel’s hair, wrapping one of your arms around him and giving him a hug of your own. “Sorry… I bet me coming out here and telling you that you may have been using the wrong stitch the entire time wasn’t very helpful.”

Miguel shrugs, looking defeated and taking his face out of your neck. Instead, he pulls you closer, fitting you into his lap like he was your suit of armor against the world. “Don’t feel too bad, I’d pretty much gotten too frustrated by that point to make any more progress.”

You squirm in his arms, tilting your head backwards and looking up at him expectantly.

“Let me try and help you? Please?”

Miguel smiles softly, the tension pent up from struggling all afternoon with this project melting out of him at your request. “If you want, love. I’ll try, but only because it’s you.”

You grin wildly, sitting up and grabbing the knitting needles and yarn as you squirm in Miguel’s lap, getting yourself comfortable. You take the small, oddly shaped and slightly butchered set of stitches off the needles, then pulling at the working strand of yarn still connected to the skein and unraveling the rows of stitches.

You wind the yarn loosely around the skein, just to keep it out of you and Miguel’s way before turning back to him, still grinning.

“Ready?” You ask, placing the needles and length of yarn into Miguel’s hands. “Ready” Miguel says, his face brightened by a happy, loving smile.

“Do you know what casting on means?” You can’t help the bubbly boost in confidence that comes with seeing Miguel smile like that, especially given how down he’d seemed before. Knowing that he was happy to be doing this, and not just going along with you for your sake made you feel a bit lighter and keeps you comfortable and relaxed in his arms as you start with your instructions.

Miguel huffs lightly- a bit of pride in his voice as he starts working the yarn around one of the needles. “Actually, I do know what that one means. It’s how you start, right?”

“Yep! Just cast on a couple of loops and do one row of knit stitches.” You say, watching closely as Miguel casts on, wanting to catch any mistakes or slips of the yarn before they cause an issue or result in a weird looking stitch later.

To your pleasant surprise, Miguel’s knit stitches are… good. Not perfect, but aside from the occasional reminder to come from the correct side, he does the row completely on his own. Once he finishes, he looks down at you, waiting for you to continue.

“Those are really good, Mig. I told you that you shouldn’t give up!” You tease, poking at his bicep before leaning forward and taking his hands as they hold the knitting needles, placing your hands over his in order to guide him through the first couple purls.

“That’s a knit stitch, it’s what you’ve been doing the whole time. Doing a section with only knit stitches gets you a garter stitched knit.” You pause, moving Miguel’s hands how you want them before continuing. “But there’s also the purl stitch- which is just a knit stitch but…” you trail off as you- slightly clumsily- guide Miguel into doing a purl stitch. “But backwards! And a stockinette stitch is just where you do one row knit, one row purled, another row knit, another purled- etcetera, etcetera.”

You pause, taking a deep breath before looking over to gauge Miguel’s expression. He looks a bit lost- his eyes narrowed and jaw set as he stares intensely at the purl stitch you just guided him in doing- so you take his hands again, doing the next stitch in the row and making sure to go slow so Miguel can see what you’re doing.

“See? Just a knit stitch in reverse.”

Miguel nods, slowly starting to do the third purl stitch on his own.

“Yeah! Yeah, just like that! Once you’ve got this down, I can go get my circular needles and you can start practicing knitting in the round!” You say, excitedly cheering him on as he keeps working through the row.

Miguel is quiet when he’s focused- and the two of you quickly fall into a rhythm of him working silently, and you pointing out whenever you catch him coming in from the wrong direction or notice his stitches getting a bit too tight or loose. You find yourself not minding the silence, content to simply guide his knitting and enjoy the warmth of his lap as he sits cross legged and hunched over you on the couch, his chin resting on your shoulder as he works.

It doesn't take long for you to start drifting off. It’s not that late, only about 9:30. But still late enough for it to be dark outside. Miguel’s doing so well at this point that you hardly even have to watch his stitches for slip ups, and sitting in Miguel’s lap means being subjected to how he practically radiates warmth- a blessing in the winter and curse in the summer. The combination of warmth, the absence of sunlight, and Miguel’s lack of need for assistance leaves you drifting through various levels of awakeness.

At one point, you close your eyes- promising to yourself that you’re only resting them and that you’ll open them right back up in just a second- only to startle awake at being lifted off the couch.

“M-Miguel? You’re done? Sorry, ‘m awake.” You mutter, still mostly asleep as you squirm in his arms.

Miguel has one arm under your knees and the other under your back, holding you close to his chest as he walks the two of you towards the stairs. When you start to wake up, the arm supporting your back tightens, keeping you from wiggling too much, and Miguel leans his head down, murmuring sweetly to you.

“Vuélvete a dormir, amor. I’m just taking you to bed, no need to wake up.” He says, starting to climb the stairs.

Miguel’s words have the opposite of the intended effect, and you merely wiggle and whine more.

“Noooo- We gotta’ finish this! I just gotta get my circle needles!”

Miguel pauses, looking down at you with an amused yet adoring smirk. “Circle needles?

You nod hazily. “Mhm. Circular needles- for knitting hats ‘n stuff. We gotta finish- you said you only have a couple’a days.” You say, still only really half awake- at best.

“And stuff?” Miguel asks with a soft chuckle- clearly very entertained by your half asleep ramblings.

“….yeah.” You mutter, your eyes fluttering shut as you curl towards Miguel- who smiles to himself before once again starting to climb the stairs, pressing a soothing kiss to your forehead. “I have more than one day, and even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t let you keep yourself up all night trying to have us finish this. We can work on it more tomorrow.”

“But-“

“Nope. Time for bed. No more knitting.” Miguel says sternly, reaching the top of the stairs and pushing the half open bedroom door fully open.

Taking you to your side of the bed, Miguel steps over your discarded pants and shirt from when you changed earlier, laughing as he easily stepped over the tripping hazards and lakes you down on the bed. “Are these from when you changed into this skirt you wanted to show me? I never got a chance to tell you how much I like it, it’s very pretty, love.” He says, pressing a kiss to your forehead before helping you out of your clothes and into pajamas.

Even half asleep, you can’t help the gooey mushy feeling buzzing in your chest at Miguel’s praise, (and the rush of affection that runs through you as you realize that he noticed your new skirt) but even that’s not quite enough to fully distract you from your insistence on staying up.

“I’m not tired- I still wanna help…” You mutter, automatically rolling towards and curling up beside Miguel when you feel the mattress dip as he climbs into bed beside you.

You quickly find yourself held tight by Miguel- his hand stroking your hair as he reassures you. “You were very helpful. You’re my amazing girl- who’s sweet and somehow amazing at everything to do with fabric and needles. I know you fell asleep towards the end and didn’t see, but I did a lot of rows- lots of practice, got my stitches looking good and everything. I wouldn’t have been able to do that without you.”

Miguel’s words send what you’re sure is a dopey smile to your face. “Can we do more tomorrow?” You ask, yawning wide and pulling your knees up so you’re curled against Miguel’s chest. “It was fun.”

Miguel smiles, running his hand through your hair lovingly before turning the bedside light off. “Of course, love. I enjoyed it too. But it’s time for you to get some sleep, okay?”

[igncrxntripley]

their secret weapon pt. 4

request (anonymous): Just thinking it would be funny if secret weapon has an ex who's like 6'10 and they're on good terms, right person wrong time vibe yk? And he shows up to support her and they're like whomst???

tags: SFW, poly!judgement day, fem!reader, ex!brooks jensen, possessive TJD

A/N: i’m on a brooks jensen kick lately so he may not be 6′10 but forgive me...also i needed to put this out bc the inspiration is hitting me like a brick and i have ideas you just aren’t ready

mentions: @babybatlover​ @ripleyswhore​

Before The Judgement Day welcomed Y/N with open arms, she didn’t have many solid connections to the people she shared the ring with. Of course she had friends, but the industry sometimes made it difficult. That changed when she met Brooks, who had started training at the Performance Center not long after she did. He was someone she could confide in, someone she felt a connection with as more than a friend. Their relationship developed, but the two decided to split. They both still loved one another, but it wasn’t the right time. 

Y/N had to admit that ever since becoming the fifth member of The Judgement Day, she hadn’t thought about Brooks once. He hadn’t reached out to her since it was revealed that she was a new member, and it spoke volumes that she hadn’t thought about picking up the phone once to call him. Little did she know, he was in shock. And now that it had been a few weeks, Brooks thought he needed to saw something. 

The group was backstage at Monday Night Raw the five of them relaxing in their locker room before their appearance for later on in the show; Damian and Finn were stretching in one corner, Rhea was in another doing pull ups, and Y/N had her head in Dominik’s lap as they played video games together. For a crew who was so tough on the outside, they really were just five normal people. They all looked at the door when a knock came from the other side, and they were confused as they weren’t expecting anyone. Finn was the first to move, so when he opened the door he was shocked to see none other than Brooks. 

“I’m sorry, who are you?” He asked the taller, larger man. “Last I checked we didn’t invite you.” Brooks rolled his eyes a little and tried to look behind Finn for Y/N, in which they made eye contact from her spot on the couch. “I need to talk to Y/N.” Brooks said confidently, Y/N already standing up even though Dominik tightened his grip on her waist. No one knew who Brooks was or what his connection to their girl was, so they were on edge once he said why he was there. “Sorry pal, she’s a little busy.” Finn said and began closing the door, but Y/N got up and stopped him. “Brooks…hi.” She said softly. 

To say the other four members in the room were shocked was an understatement. Not only were they surprised, but they were protective of Y/N and wanted to know who this was at the door. She turned to them and gently put her hand on Finn’s arm since he was the closest. “Give me a few minutes.” Y/N was going to go with Brooks regardless, but once her partners nodded in agreement and gave her the space she needed she closed the door and walked down the hallway with Brooks. 

Once they were alone the two embraced each other for the first time in a long time, and it felt good to Y/N to have someone there she knew cared about her. “God, baby. It’s so good to see you.” Brooks said into her shoulder as he squeezed her smaller body. She still smelled the same, of strawberries and flowers but now with a hint of cologne from each of her boys in the room. And her feminine aesthetic hadn’t changed in the slightest either, but he was still worried about the long term effects of being involved with The Judgement Day. “I’ve been worried about you.” 

Y/N pulled back to look at him with furrowed brows. “Worried?” She asked softly. “Brooks, I…I know you mean well but you don’t need to be worried. The four of them are amazing, and they’ve helped me so much.” Brooks put her down and gently held her arms. “You feel that way now, but they’re going to turn on you like they’ve turned on others in the past.” He warned her. “I just…I hate how people have treated you in the past and I don’t want it to happen again.” Y/N gave a soft sigh and looked up at her ex. “As if you wouldn’t be the first one I’d call if I needed help.” She teased softly, making him chuckle. “I promise you, I’m happy, And the four of them take amazing care of me.” Brooks just had to trust Y/N like he always had, so he nodded and pulled her into another hug. “I’m proud of you. And I’ll be watching you tonight front and center.” 

Y/N could feel herself buzzing with excitement when Brooks told her. She smiled at him and practically jumped up and down. “I think You’ll like the new stuff I’ve been working on. But I have to go get ready, so I’ll see you later?” Brooks nodded and gave her one last kiss on top of her head as a good luck before she ran back to the locker room. When she walked inside, she was met with four stares from four quite large individuals. 

“Care to explain?” Rhea asked first, her arms crossed over her chest and the look on her face making Y/N nervously play with her fingers. “He’s…he’s my ex. And we still have a really good relationship so he just wanted to talk.” She explained quickly. Damian shook his head a little and stepped closer. “Do you remember what we told you when you became a member of The Judgement Day, mi amor?” His words made Y/N shiver. Finn followed suit and stood in front of Y/N, brushing some of her hair behind her ear. “In order to be the very best you can be, you need to leave everything behind that was holding you back.” He reminded her softly. Y/N frowned and looked at the four of them again. “I-I know, but…but that’s not Brooks! He’s always supported me…” she said softly. 

Dom was the next one to speak. He shook his head and stayed where he was, running a stressed hand through his hair. “That’s what you think. But you need to trust us for all of this hard work to truly pay off.” She turned her head from her partners and tried to think about what they were saying, but she knew they were right. “Yeah, I guess.” She said softly. In the back of her mind, she knew it wasn’t going to be that easy to cut off Brooks. But she still had a match later in the night and she couldn’t think about anything other than that. 

Her partners all smiled in response, and this time Rhea was the one to step closer and wrap her arms around Y/N. “We promise this is the right thing to do, baby. You won’t regret it.” She said softly. Y/N nodded and leaned into Rhea’s touch. “Thank you all. I mean it.” Even though she still meant every word she said, she was still thinking about seeing Brooks in the crowd during her match tonight…and whether she should tell her four partners about that.

[princessmisery666]

Fries, Goodbyes & The Rest Of Our Lives

Summary: Being stood up isn’t always a bad thing. 

Warnings/Genre etc.: Fluff, lousy singing. 

W/C: 2k

Characters: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw, Mentions/Small Parts: Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace, Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia, Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, Harvard. 

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

Notes: I saw this post on Instagram, and it immediately made me think of Rooster. Songs: Is This Love by White Snake, Can’t Take My Eyes Off You by Frankie Valli.

A/N: the wonderful and brilliant @writercole helped with ideas, summary, and title and helped make the muses comply. 

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch

Master Lists: Top Gun: Maverick // All The Fandoms

Fries, Goodbyes & The Rest Of Our Lives

It’s been a week. It’s not even worth listing all the things that went wrong. The icing on the cake (presumably made with salt and not sugar - cause it's that kind of week) was your date canceled on you as you took a seat at a booth in the diner.

You sigh as the waitress comes to take your order, accepting that you’ve been stood up and decide you may as well eat since you’re already there.

“I’ll take a cheeseburger, side salad, no tomato, extra dressing, please.” 

The elderly waitress smiles. It’s comforting and sweet. Her name tag says Pattie, and you imagine her grandkids get overly excited whenever Granny Pat visits. “You want the fries with that?”

You ponder for half a second before declining, “No thanks.”

“You sure, hun? They’re included in the price.”

You had dirty Cajun fries from the food cart outside the office at lunch. You know the diner’s fries won’t taste as good, besides you want to leave room for dessert, so you politely decline again. 

“I’ll take them, Pattie!”

You twist in the booth to look over your shoulder and find the source. A handsome guy sitting at the bar, wearing a light yellow floral print shirt, smiles and gives a two-fingered wave. You’d clocked him when you’d entered. You’d caught his eye too, and he’d given you a broad smile. His mustache was a flashback to a decade or two ago, but he wore it well. He carried it with a sense of pride and confidence. It looked good on him. Anyone else, you’d have thought it was creepy.

“Hush now, boy,” Pattie scolds, but she’s smiling when she turns back to face you.

You chuckle, nodding toward him, “He’ll take the fries.”

Pattie takes your menu and disappears to the kitchen. You look at Mr. Mustache, who tips his beer bottle to you before bringing it to his lips.

You grab your phone and message the “No Scrubs” group. 

You: Stood up again. Where you guys at?

Cole: At that navy bar I was telling you about. Come meet us.

You: I’ve just ordered dinner. Will see how I feel after.

You scroll social media while you wait. Pattie comes by a few times, brings cutlery and sauces, and refreshes your drink. 

You hear the bell ring to signal an order’s ready, and your mouth waters when you see Pattie heading toward you. The burger looks delicious. The brioche bun glistens under the lights as the cheese melts over the edge onto the plate. It's so tall there’s a wooden skewer through the top to keep it in place, and the fries are fat and look perfectly crispy.  

Pattie sets the plate down, “Enjoy, sweetheart,” and you swallow before drool slips out.

Just as you pull the skewer out of the burger, you hear, “Those are mine, remember.”

You laugh, twisting to look at him again. He’s got a cheerful smirk, but his brow is raised as if challenging you. “Why don’t you join me?” you offer. 

He grabs his beer and twists off his stool. The smile remains while he saunters over, and you can’t take your eyes off him, admiring the sway of his hips. He’s confident in an almost bashful way. The open floral shirt shows a white shirt beneath it, and the contrast against his tanned skin looks as edible as your burger. 

“Tell me,” he says, grabbing a fry and biting off the end. “What kind of psychopath doesn’t have fries with their burger?”

You shrug, “The same kind that offers to take a stranger's fries.”

“Touché,” he chuckles. 

You laugh, explaining, “I had fries at lunch and want dessert.”

 He nods as if now understanding your logic. “Ah, she’s got a sweet tooth.” 

“I’ve heard that the chocolate malt here is the best in the state. I can’t pass that up,” you grin.

“Well, that is true,” he shrugs, popping another fry into his mouth. “Make or break question here, whipped cream on top of the shake?”

“I fear this will affect our budding friendship,” you tease, “but ab-so-lutely whipped cream on top of the shake. Among other places,” you wink. 

His boldness flounders for half a second, recognizing he’s met his match, but he recovers quickly. Wetting his lips and giving a cheeky smile. “Are you flirting with me?” 

“Depends.” 

“On what?”

“I don’t see a ring, and you’re here alone. Are you single?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes, I’m definitely flirting with you.”

His smile widens and remains while the conversation flows and the two of you eat. Flirtations and laughter pass back and forth effortlessly.

Your phone chimes with another message, and you see the ‘No Scrubs’ group chat has two unread messages. You don’t want to be rude and pick it up to reply, but you know if you don’t, they’ll likely call to make sure you’re okay. 

“Somewhere else you need to be?” he asks, a hint of disappointment in his voice that he attempts to hide behind a sip of beer.

“No, just some friends trying to get me to go meet them at some Navy bar.” You roll your eyes and type a quick ‘maybe’ before locking your phone, setting it face down on the table.

“Navy bar? The Hard Deck?” he questions, tilting his head to the side.

“I think that’s what Cole said. Do you know it?”

“That’s actually where I’m headed after. I could give you a ride. If you need one, that is.”

“I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Bradley, but my friends call me Rooster.”

“Rooster?” you laugh. “Please tell me there’s a good story there.”

“There might be. I guess that depends on if you want to hear it.”

“How about you tell me on the way to the bar?”

The open window lifts your hair slightly, and every time Rooster gets a hit of your perfume, he inhales deeply, savoring it. 

He sticks to the speed limit, if not a little below it. He’s not quite ready to say goodbye to you. He’s never had such an instant, effortless connection with someone, and he wants to make it last as long as possible.

You’d laughed at the story about his name. You’d have never guessed that it was a nickname his uncle gave him when he was a kid. The radio is playing at a low volume, but as soon as the opening bars of Is This Love by White Snake start, you lean over and crank the volume as loud as it will go, singing along as if he isn’t there.

“Is this love that I'm feeling?” you sing, holding a pretend microphone. “Is this the love that I've been searching for? Is this love, or am I dreaming? This must be love. 'Cause, it's really got a hold on me. A hold on me.” 

You can’t hold a tune, and your voice cracks a few times, but still, you belt it out with vigor, and Rooster thinks he may be falling in love. Did Pattie put something in those fries? 

“Sorry,” you say, settling back into your seat, “that’s one of my favorites.” 

It’s one of my favorites now too. But he doesn’t say it. Instead, he laughs, “I never would’ve guessed.”

“Are you not a car karaoke kinda guy?” you ask. “You seem like you like to sing along.” 

“I’ve been known to hold a few car concerts,” he admits, “but I didn’t want to interrupt your flow.” 

“Can you sing as good as me?”

He looks at you and sees the jesting expression. You know you can’t sing, and you don’t care one little bit.

“I’d love to serenade you,” he says, “but unfortunately, we’re here.”

“Some other time?” you ask, and he swears you sound hopeful.

Rooster opens the Hard Deck door, and as soon as he hears the hustle and bustle from inside, he wishes he’d suggested you stay at the diner. Holding the door open, he gestures for you to enter first, and you smile a thanks as you pass by.

You stop a few feet inside, scanning the room as he stands beside you. This is the one time he hopes Hangman is being himself and has, by some miracle, coaxed your friends over to the group so Rooster has an excuse to keep talking to you. 

“Those are my friends over there,” you say, dashing all his hopes as you point to the pool tables on the opposite side of the room. 

“I’m over there,” Rooster says, pointing to where the Dagger squad is assembled. 

“Thanks for the ride.”

“Thanks for the fries.” 

“Anytime.” 

“Enjoy the rest of your night.” 

“You too.” 

There’s a pause, neither of you knowing what to do. You rise to the tips of your toes, and he dips to let you place a gentle kiss on his cheek. 

His cheeks quickly flush, hearing the jeers, shouts, and wolf whistles, but you drop back down with a laugh.

“Sorry,” he says. “They’re a bunch of idiots.”

He scolds himself for being an idiot as you walk away. He should invite you over or ask for your number, but he’s suddenly tongue-tied. He stares at you, frozen to the spot, long enough to see your friends turn to look at him as you settle into your seat.

Throughout the night, flirtatious glances are passed back and forth, and smiles exchanged when they linger. Of course, it’s Hangman who notices the consequence of Rooster’s error. 

“Looks like you lose again, Rooster,” the blond pilot remarks, a way too smug grin showing off his perfectly white teeth. “Too snug on that perch, and Harvard is gonna take your lady right out from under your beak.”

Rooster doesn’t care if it proves Hangman’s point. He looks directly at you. Harvard is whispering in your ear. You're smiling, but Rooster thinks it's more of a polite, courteous smile than genuine interest. 

But it’s the kick he needs to take action. He looks to Phoenix, Bob, and Mickey, almost pleading, “I need your help.” 

Phoenix nods once, Bob smiles, and Mickey asks, “What?”

“He wants to do the Goose move,” Phoenix explains without Bradley needing to tell her any more. 

“What’s the Goose move?”

“It’s the move his Dad did to get his Mom,” Bob says. 

“I don’t know what that is,” Mickey shrugs. 

“Technically, we've been doing it for years,” Rooster says, “it’s just that this time, it involves my future wife.”

“So, no pressure,” Bob gulps. 

“Relax. I’ve got a plan,” Phoenix winks, gesturing for the three guys to come closer.

Harvard doesn’t seem all that smart, and you wonder if it's an ironic nickname or callsign, as Rooster had explained. Harvard certainly doesn’t understand body language. You’ve tried, unsuccessfully, to put some distance between you three times. The third time he slides his arm around your shoulders. 

Before you can shrug, his arm slips off, and suddenly, a pretty brunette woman is in his place. “Hi,” she says brightly, her back to a flustered-looking Harvard. “I’m Phoenix, and this is Fanboy. We’re friends with Rooster.” 

Butterflies dance in your stomach. Before she can say anymore or you have a chance to wonder why he’s sent his friends to rescue you, the jukebox cuts off, and a collective groan echoes around the room. 

“That was supposed to happen,” Phoenix smiles. Fanboy is speaking quietly to Harvard, and he doesn’t seem happy about whatever is being said, but you're grateful for the interruption. 

There’s a soft twinkling from a piano somewhere in the room, and after a few more notes, you find the source. Phoenix continues, “That’s Bob, and you’ve met Rooster.” 

Your eyes drift up from the piano player and land on Bradley, fingers tapping the wooden top, while Bob continues to find the right melody.

Rooster’s eyes are locked on you, a shy smirk lifting the corner of his mustache. 

“Thanks for the save,” you say to Phoenix but keep your eyes on Rooster. 

“Well, it wasn’t the actual intention, but Harvard can be a bit…” she trails off.

“Thick?” 

“That’s a good word for him,” she laughs.

The bright random notes turn into a clear, rich melody that flows through the room moments before the smooth baritone of Rooster’s voice fills the air. “You’re just too good to be true. Can’t take my eyes off of you.”

Damn, he can sing! 

Taking the lyrics literally, he doesn’t avert his eyes while he serenades you. You feel Phoenix’s hand at your elbow, but you can’t look away from the gorgeous man belting out a song just for you. Only when he draws closer do you realize she’s guiding you to him. 

The bar is packed, and the crowd gathers around the piano, but somehow Rooster is always in your line of sight, and then Fanboy is in front of you, splitting the crowd to let you through. 

It feels surreal but magical when somehow there’s a clear path straight to Rooster. It looks like an aisle leading to an altar, and the man that awaits you has been sent from the heavens because he’s gorgeous, kind, funny, and clearly has a talent for commanding a room. You wonder what else you could uncover, given some time.

“At long last, love has arrived,” Rooster sings as you reach his side. Phoenix slips away as you reach for Bradley’s outstretched hand. 

Definitely an altar, and you’ll happily worship here for eternity. Interlocking your fingers with his, he pulls you against him. “Now that I found you, stay,” it’s more than a song, it's a question, and you nod. 

Slowly, he inches closer, and the crowd takes over, singing the chorus, when his lips connect with yours and the world melts away. 

Tag List Info

Take To The Skies: @alexxavicry / @b3autyfuldisast3r / @fandom-princess-forevermore / @imjess-themess / @justagirlinafandomworld / @leigh70 / @letsbys-library / @shanimallina87 / @wildbornsiren / @writercole / @xoxabs88xox / @atarmychick007

Master Lists: Top Gun: Maverick // All The Fandoms

[genvaddict]

Gen V and the V is for Vendetta Pt. 2

After the 15 minute walk back to the dorms from dusties the group parted ways. Marie accompanied Jordan to their room and just as they entered the room, door barely closed all the way Marie spun around in a fury.

“Jordan what the fuck was that?!” She asks. 

“What the fuck was what Marie? Is it a crime to stand up and protect your girlfriend now? I’m so sorry for breaking the law. sad face mean it.” jordan says sarcastically.

Marie was annoyed by the earlier altercation but Jordan’s smart ass remarks were actually enraging her now. 

“Jordan you don’t think about the consequences you can face. He is the deans son first off and second you know he pushes your buttons to get any kind of reaction in hopes to ruin your ranking and third you didn’t let me get a word in. I appreciate your need to protect me. It goes both ways but there are some battles you and I can fight ourselves.” Marie stated irritated.

Jordan stumbles “I-I know Marie I’m-“

“You’re what?!” Marie raised her voice from frustration.

“Jesus Christ Marie I’m sorry ok! You’re right but the way he was degrading you just sent me to another level. I couldn’t even think straight I was so fucking pissed.” Jordan confesses. 

Marie sighs “I get it but he is my partner on a project. He’s someone I am going to have to work with. That should’ve been my moment to set him straight and lay down boundaries.” 

“You’re right ok. I’m waving the white flag. I lost my temper and I need to do better.” Jordan says. 

“Thank you that’s all I wanted.” Marie says reaching out to pull Jordan in for a hug. 

Marie’s hands wrap around Jordan’s wider physical form and she rests her head under their chin. 

Jordan pulled her in tighter and kissed the top of her head. 

After a few beats of silence they ask “So does that mean we’re going to see him multiple days this week?”  

Marie leans back and looks up to see Jordan’s head tilted to the side like they’re contemplating what days they have available to tag along.

“NO! You two literally just tried to kill each other. You need to be 100 feet apart at all times and I need you to trust me.” Marie says softly leaning in pressing her lips quickly to Jordan’s. 

Jordan breaks the kiss professing  “I do trust you. I have 100% faith in you but unfortunately it’s the entitled asshole I don’t trust.”  

“Well do you want me to tell him the legendary story of how Rufus has to piss sitting down now?” Marie says grinning ear to ear.

“I’m going to be like hey! back off before that becomes you!” Marie says jokingly while lifting her hands in a defense position. 

Jordan chuckles then pulls Marie in to whisper between kisses into her forehead and cheeks “you’re the most sweetest, prettiest, badass girl I’ve ever met. I don’t know how I got so lucky Moreau.” 

~~~~

The next day Jordan woke up missing the presence of Marie next to them. They had rolled over and saw the sticky note Marie left on their pillow.

Hey sleepy head. Left early this morning for class. Miss you already! Meet for coffee at 11? Text me if that works 🖤 marie

Jordan couldn’t help but reread the note again with the dopiest smile. they then heard the pinging of their phone. Grabbing the vought phone they see it’s a message from cate. 

Cate: Hey. Talk after our crime fighting class k. Don’t try to book it! 

Greattttt they forgot about her wanting a talk with them about last nights shenanigans too. 

Jordan rolled their eyes as they went through their closet focused on dressing their smaller frame. Ugh todays going to be a long one. 

~~~~

Just as crime fighting let out cate had already caught Jordan before they could even leave the class. 

“Ready for that talk?” cate asked surprisingly chipper.

“No” Jordan responded shortly.

“Well too damn bad. We can talk and walk.” Cate said.

As they take off into the narrow hallways Jordan sighs “whatever you’re going to say Moreau probably already beat you to it ok. I’m short tempered, It was her fight not mine, and be smarter about where I beat the dean’s son’s ass.”

“I almost agreed til the last part.” Cate grinned. 

“Ok that wasn’t exactly what she said but how I would say it.” Jordan laughed. 

“Jordan if I wasn’t there you could have got into serious trouble and honestly we potentially still could if his memory starts to come back or we missed erasing someone’s phone. You’re number 2. Telling you to be smarter is the nicest way of putting it. Don’t jeopardize your future because of jealousy or insecurity or whatever the hell it is. Ok?” Cate says with a serious tone. 

“Yeah ok you’re right. It’s just I’ve never felt like this with anyone other than Marie. She gets everything about me and accepts me for me and well to be honest I can’t stand the thought of anyone disrespecting her or threatening what we have especially that little shit.” Jordan says releasing a deep sigh. 

“Don’t tell Andre or Luke about this talk either.” Jordan sternly says. “I’m serious.”

“Ok ok no need to get worked up because Jordan Li s finally wearing their heart on their sleeve.” Cate teased. “I won’t tell a soul scouts honor.” 

“You weren’t even a fucking Girl Scout.” Jordan says rolling their eyes with a grin as they walk off from cate to go meet Marie at jitterbean.

~~~~

As Jordan rounds the corner to get to jitterbean they immediately spot Marie in khaki cargo pants with a tan crop top and her locs in a half up half down style. Jordan could feel that stupid grin spreading on their face at the sight of her. The grin disappeared almost as fast as it had materialized when they realized who was next to her talking it up. Fucking Daxton. Jordan had to do a quick breathe in breathe out and remind themselves that Daxton doesn’t even remember the altercation they got in at Dustie’s. It still doesn’t help that they know he admitted he wants Marie but who wouldn’t she’s legit the hottest girl on campus, no scratch that in the world. Jordan releases a deep sigh remembering they promised Marie and Cate they would be on their best behavior with this world class jackass. 

Jordan pastes the biggest fakest smile as they approach “Heyyyyy babe.” They say as they approach Marie and give her a kiss on the cheek. They side eye Daxton and leave it at that.

“Nice to see you too jordan.” Daxton says sarcastically. 

“Heyyyy Daxton saw me in line and came over to ask about us scheduling times to meet. Glad I have a partner who doesn’t play about school work.” Marie says as fast as she can trying to cut the tension. 

Before either one can reply Marie hurriedly says “But Daxton yes the library tonight at 6 works for me. I’ll see you then.” 

Daxton’s eyebrows raise at the dismal. “Ok cool can’t wait for our study date.” He says smugly looking at Jordan before turning on his heels and heading off. 

Jordan grits their teeth and involuntarily clenches their fist in annoyance.

“IT’S NOT A DATE GROW UP!” Marie exasperatedly shouts. “Jordan ignore him. He doesn’t remember the fight or anything he’s just being an ass.” 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you? I don’t want him to make you feel uncomfortable or anything.” Jordan asks before pulling Marie in for a hug. 

Marie returns the hug pulling Jordan’s more petite frame in tighter and giving a quick peck while trying to ignore the bystander’s who pulled out their phones to capture the moment.

“I’ll be ok weirdly he only acts like this when you’re around. I genuinely don’t believe he’s into me. I think it’s just to get under your skin and unfortunately he can tell it’s working.” Marie sighs.

“Marie I think you’re being a little naive on this one. The way he looked at you at the party was full of desire like the creepy guy at a gas station kind of desire. So fuck yeah it’s a little alarming.” Jordan says frowning. 

“I don’t think I am and I can handle it. Ok?” Marie asks while nuzzling Jordan’s nose.  

“Alright.” Jordan responded less enthusiastically. 

MarieJordan  your order is up! 

Marie leads Jordan with intertwined hands to grab their orders.

“I’m glad I got to see you before my next class” Marie says leaning in for a kiss. 

 Jordan met halfway lips full of longing and want for this moment to never end.

Marie broke apart “ok I’ll probably see you tonight after my library session with Daxton.“ 

Jordan rolled their eyes “I’m serious babe if he steps one foot out of line let me know.” 

Marie yells “I will! Promise!” As she turns to head to her next class. 

~~~~~

It was 6:10pm. Marie had already found a table in the quiet section of the library and laid the notes for the project out. Daxton was 10 minutes late. Typical. Marie hears a sudden shuffling sound from behind. “Sorry I’m late” Daxton says as he pulls the chair out to sit in. He looked a bit more disheveled than normal. His normally slicked blonde hair more so resembled bed head and the bags were heavy under his eyes.

“Hey this might sound weird but is your memory kinda hazy from the party this past weekend?” Daxton asked hesitantly. 

“I mean it was a party at dustie’s filled with alcohol and drugs. Whose memory isn’t hazy?” Marie says keeping her eyes on the papers sprawled out on the table. 

Daxton hesitates “Yeah I guess —“

“Let’s focus. I don’t want to be here all night. We have 3 pages to fill with Who is an ethical hero and why.” Marie cuts him off trying to change the subject. 

“Yeah ok sorry” Daxton mumbles.

~~~~

They were 2 hours in at the library and an hour away before the library would close. 

“Daxton you have actually been tolerable and respectful. Why are you the complete opposite anytime Jordan’s around?” Marie asked inquiringly. 

Daxton smirked then said with a shrug “I personally can’t stand their smugness and rude attitude. So I just give it back ten fold.” 

“Yeah well Jordan has the right to be that smug they worked really hard to get to #2. The attitude is…well. They wouldn’t be Jordan without the attitude. Get over it and stop bringing me into you two’s bullshit rivalry.” Marie responds bluntly. 

“I am sorry for that.” Daxton blushes in response. 

Marie scoffs “that’s hard to believe.” 

“No really. I-I mean you’re obviously attractive but I shouldn’t make you uncomfortable. You know the study date thing was a joke.” Daxton responds looking down. 

“Well I didn’t find it funny. I’ll accept your apology if it never happens again. If it does happen again I’ll blow your balls off. Understand?” Marie asked staring Daxton down. 

Daxton’s eyes widen and he stutters out “ye-yes damn Marie. I’m sorry.” 

A familiar laugh rings out from the bookshelves nearby and all Marie could do was rub her head to try to help the headache this entire situation was giving her. 

Daxton pushed back his chair to follow the laugh to find who Marie already knew it to be. Jordan Li whose face was bright red from trying to hold in their laugh with a book resting open against the highest shelf in their taller form. 

“Really you’re this threatened by me?” Daxton said crossing their arms with a smirk. “I can’t blame you , I too would be threatened if my competition looked like…well me.”

“Fuck off dickhead.” Jordan spat. 

Daxton cocked his head to the side with narrowed eyes “what did you just say?” He asked. 

“You fucking heard me.” Jordan snapped. 

“You-you’ve said that before.” Daxton mumbles in realization. 

“Wha-“ Jordan starts before he is cut off from the mini fireballs Daxton sends flying at their face. 

As Jordan’s arms go up in a defensive position they hear Marie’s voice ringing out “IN THE FUCKING LIBRARY??? YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!” 

Notes: I was planning on this being only 2 chapters but it might wrap up in the 3rd chapter 💛

[jesuisici33]

Fuck it Friday

tagged by @daffi-990 @giddyupbuck @wikiangela @fortheloveofbuddie @callmenewbie from my buddie bachelorette wip! takes place right after buck and eddie get into a fight their first week on the show

The punches Eddie gave him are nothing compared to the look Maddie is giving him now as Chimney is patching him up in one of the mansion’s rooms they made into a makeshift infirmary. She’s currently facetiming him as Chimney is putting a splint on his nose.

“What the fuck, Evan?” A sinking disappointment makes its way further into his chest. She hardly ever calls him Evan anymore, instead calling him by his nickname nowadays. He didn’t want to answer her when she called, but he knows if he didn’t then Maddie would get even more worried and he couldn’t do that to her. “It hasn’t even been a week yet and you’ve already been in a fight? Maybe this is a sign you shouldn’t have done this.”

When Buck told his sister he was going on The Bachelorette, the first thing Maddie did was burst out laughing. He just realized that Abby is never going to come back from Europe – too long actually, and although he could see it on his sister’s face, he’s forever grateful she never said a sympathetic “I told you so, and I’m so sorry” to him – and he was having a shitty time getting back into the dating scene. Before Abby he tried, sometimes. But mostly he was focused on the getting laid aspect more than developing an emotional connection with someone. 

Then he met Abby. Falling in love with her…he wanted that again. When he couldn’t find that over the many people he matched on dating apps and met through happenstance he felt that Abby must’ve been it for him. 

Until he saw the auditions for The Bachelorette.

He’s familiar with the show, obviously. Maddie’s made him watch it sometimes when it’s her turn to watch a show. Sometimes a hookup would want to watch it as the Netflix portion during Netflix and Chill. He remembers whenever the bachelorette realizes how much she’s falling for a guy and how real their love feels when they become vulnerable with each other.

They can’t fake that.

Maddie didn’t approve. Thinks he is becoming desperate. “You just have to be patient. You’ll find your love, don’t try to force it. Also I really don’t need to see my baby brother embarrass himself on national television.”

“Hey, just be grateful your brother’s nose is the worst of his injuries,” Chimney says. Buck tries to glare at the paramedic the show hired in cases like what happened between him and Eddie, but Chimney is one step ahead of him and hands him a bag of ice. Gesturing for Buck to place it on his eye, he keeps talking to Maddie. “Besides, watching your brother try to beat the shit out of Eddie is the least dangerous thing I’ve had to deal with.”

From Buck’s phone, Maddie raises an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’ve seen worse.”

“Oh yeah! Used to work on The Bachelor before I asked Hen for a transfer.” He shudders. ��Once you see a heel where a heel should not be…” 

“I used to be an ER nurse, trust me I can imagine.” Maddie’s head tilts to the side and a small giggle comes out. If Buck had the ability to narrow his eyes, he would. “But tell me anyway? What’s the story behind that…?”

“Howard. But most people call me Chimney. Don’t ask. And actually it happened a few seasons ago between-” Chimney takes Buck’s phone, walking out of the room. In between telling the story to Maddie, he tells Buck he’s free to leave with the ice packs. Just be sure to bring them back once they’re warm. 

He hopes that when he brings the ice packs back, he gets his phone back too.

tagging @911-on-abc @hippolotamus @eddiebabygirldiaz @monsterrae1 @apothecarose @mammameesh @thewolvesof1998 @forthewolves @loserdiaz @disasterbuckdiaz @wildlife4life @rmd-writes @wandering-night19 @liminalmemories21 @carlos-in-glasses @bonheur-cafe @ramonaflow @thebumblecee @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @your-catfish-friend

[lovesosweeet]

better left unsaid // cth

chapter twenty

in which orion has leukemia, and calum doesn’t know.

calum hood x fem!oc

read other chapters

june 7, 2016 london, england orion

Somehow, my roommates chose not to join me in London to see 5SOS again. We’d had so much fun at the Madrid show, but after Calum extended the invite to visit the band again, they all declined the offer. I didn’t like the thought of not seeing Cal at least once or twice more, so I booked my flight as soon as I could, choosing the cheapest option possible. It meant spending the night on the floor at the airport so I could catch the earliest flight today and still take the metro before it shut down at 2, but that also meant I landed pretty early on in the day.

Calum and I will have the whole day together. Well, the whole day aside from their soundcheck and other band obligations. I’ll be here with them tomorrow, too, but Calum said they’d have press for most of the day, so I’ll get to explore alone, and then after tomorrow’s show I’m tagging along to Brighton before flying back to Spain.

He’d offered to send a car to pick me up at the airport, but I declined. He tried to fight back and insist, but I felt like it was incredibly unnecessary. I can handle myself. So, once I made my way through customs, I followed the signs to the underground station and hopped on the next train that goes toward the direction of the hotel Calum said they’re staying at.

While I ride the tube, I text him.

To: calum 5sos

hi! on my way to you now. probably like 20 min!

I told him that I would be here early, so I’m hoping he’s awake.

The train is packed with commuters, so I feel extra cautious of being pickpocketed. My valuables are in my crossbody that I have in front of me, but my backpack is stuffed with clothes and makeup. I grip my phone as tightly as I can.

Calum texts me back quickly.

From: calum 5sos

hi pretty! I’m ready to go whenever you get here. can’t wait to see ya!

Suddenly I feel nervous to see him. I did my makeup on the plane and used a ton of overpriced dry shampoo I’d bought at the airport, but now I’m wondering if I look pretty enough to be hanging out with an internationally famous musician.

It’s also funny because it’s only been a few days since I last saw him, and yet, here I am, excited to see him. I’m borderline missing him, which feels wild considering I’ve only known him for about a week. I do my best to push away those kinds of feelings — this is just fun. We’re just having fun together. I’ll probably see him this trip, maybe try to see him one other time, and that’ll probably be it. I’m sure he’s got other girls who’d like to see him, and they’re only in Europe for a month and a half or so.

The rest of the ride to my final station seems to creep by slowly, my nerves just building while I stand awkwardly on the train, clutching my phone and the metal pole that’s keeping me steady.

When we get to the station, I quickly exit the train with an onslaught of other passengers. Most of them are dressed in business clothes, on their way to work. I’m wearing jean shorts and a cropped t-shirt with a linen button down on top, making me feel like I stand out. I’m casual, and I feel quite American in my outfit. My San Diego Padres baseball hat really adds to my American-ness, and I suddenly feel like I should’ve possibly rethought my outfit choice.

My hands are sweaty as I ride the escalator up to the exit. I route my way to Calum’s hotel, trying to at least know which direction to start walking in when I get to the street. Those efforts prove to be unnecessary because when I get to the street, I see Calum waiting for me.

He’s wearing his standard black pants and a pair of black Vans with a black and white striped t-shirt. He’s somewhat disguised with a pair of Raybans covering his eyes, but his height makes the grinning boy stick out to me as soon as I step off the escalator. He raises his hand in a wave when he sees me, instantly starting to walk towards me.

“Orion!” He calls out. As soon as he’s a few steps from me, Calum opens his arms wide so he can wrap me into a tight hug.

I’m somewhat stunned, truthfully, but try to hide it. I hug him back instantly, feeling safer in his grasp. He doesn’t hold onto me for too long, but I’m not sure if it’s because I step back after a few seconds in his arms or if he lets me go.

“No security?” I ask when there’s a foot or so of space between us. I look around, trying to see if there’s a guard hiding a few people away or something, but still don’t see anyone.

Calum shakes his head and smiles. “Nah, convinced Matt to let us free roam today. A trial run.”

I nod. “Got it, I’m on my best behavior.”

He laughs, throwing an arm over my shoulders. “Let’s go drop off your bag at the hotel, and we can get breakfast?” He asks as if it’s a question, even though it’s technically a sentence. “If you’re hungry, I mean.”

“I’m hungry,” I tell him. I feel his shoulders relax. “And I love breakfast.”

“I know you do,” Calum says.

He knows I love breakfast? Had I told him that? Maybe when I was drunk I mentioned it. I do tend to rant about things when I’m drunk.

“Sorry, didn’t mean that to sound creepy,” he then blurts. “I looked at like… your entire Instagram account like a creep, so maybe it should’ve sounded creepy. Sorry, now I’m showing you all my cards, I just—”

I cut him off with laughter. I’m flattered that he had scrolled through my feed. I was shocked to get the follow request, but I accepted it, assuming he’d just follow me and not ever interact with me. I figured it was a nicety. He probably follows every girl he hooks up with as some weird way to document them.

“It’s fine, I looked through yours too.” I did. I saw mostly what I expected. A bunch of stage photos, pictures with his bandmates, a few pictures with his family mixed in. I felt like I got a glimspe into who he is, beyond what I’d learnt during our day and a half together in Madrid.

“I’m flattered,” he says, chuckling.

“I mean it’s not every day I meet someone who knows Harry Styles,” I tell him. “Naturally I needed to see how close of friends you guys are.”

Calum scoffs. He turns me suddenly, onto a new street. I don’t question it and just try to keep up with his long legged pace. “I thought you weren’t a 1D fan?”

I laugh, but it comes out more as a giggle, which for some reason feels embarrassing. “I’m not, but you can’t deny that the man is dreamy.”

Calum laughs, but I’m not sure if it’s at my comment or at my awkward giggle. “I get it, you’re just pretending to like me so you can meet him.”

I’m so wrapped up in my conversation with Calum that I don’t even realize that we’re walking into an alley behind a hotel now. The only reason I realize it is because I can hear the echoes of a crowd from the other side of the building, chanting “5SOS” — it’s 7 in the morning, which is far too early for that in my opinion.

The security guard, Gus is his name, is the same one who had been in Madrid. He smiles when he sees me, or maybe when he sees Calum, or maybe it’s the combination of us. Either way, he waves his hand hello.

“Hi, Gus!” I call, offering him a smile.

“Good morning, Orion.” He remembers my name?

I look at Calum with a surprised look and find him already smiling at me. God, I like him. I smile back and mumble a quiet thank you when he opens the door to the hotel for me. We walk to the service elevator, Cal leading the way, and he presses the button for the seventh floor.

“For the record, I don’t need to meet Harry Styles. I’ve already met the coolest bassist that’s come out of Australia this decade.”

Calum rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance. “Just this decade?”

I throw my head back with a laugh. “I don’t know enough about bassists, and especially not Australian ones, so I didn’t want to oversell you.”

His annoyance evaporates and then he’s giggling with me. The doors open to the floor, Cal holding his arm out so they don’t close on me, and then he grabs onto my hand to pull me to his room. Once the door is unlocked, he opens it for me and lets me walk in ahead of him.

“I’m probably the coolest bassist to come out of Aus in the past century,” he announces, flicking the lights on. “And the hottest.”

I purse my lips. I’d agree, but I can’t inflate his ego. He’s already here, claiming to be the hottest and coolest bassist of the century. “You can keep telling yourself that, bud.” I’m also trying to avoid appearing completely smitten with him, even though I am.

He laughs again. “See, I like how you knock me down.”

I drop my backpack onto the armchair in the corner of the room, next to his open suitcase, messily piled with clothes and a few packs of cigarettes and then I hold my hand out to him. “I’ll pull you back up, too.”

“My dream girl.”

I do my best to ignore the sudden flutter in my chest, settling on smiling cheesily at him.

It’s just a fling, I tell myself. I need to keep my expectations low.

“You said there’d be breakfast?” I ask.

Calum’s expression turns unreadable, but his eyes are still kind and sparkling, so I don’t worry about it. “With me, there will always be breakfast.”

My dream boy, I think.

–

After a few hours of roaming London with Calum, I’ve fallen in love with the city. Despite it being a massive city, something about it all feels quaint… in a dirty, gloomy, stinky kind of way. My only request is that we go on the Eye, which he manages to get us on for free by taking a selfie with the girl at the ticket counter.

He and I also take a selfie with the view at the top. It’s our first picture together, and it might end up being the only photo of us together. I decide it’s a sweet memento to hold onto of this brief study abroad adventure. I haven’t told my moms yet that I’ve decided to take a weekend trip to London to visit a boy, but maybe someday I’ll show them this photo and they can understand why I made the choice to get on a plane to see his show.

We’re making our way to the venue now, the O2. He’s trying to be chill about it, but I can tell Calum is both stoked and incredibly nervous. I think it’s their first time headlining, but I’m not completely sure, and Cal seems too out of it to answer if I did ask. We’re on a train — I have no idea how he managed to convince Matt that he can take a train to the venue without a security guard, but again, not going to ask. He’s drumming his hands on his thighs in a pattern nervously, looking straight ahead of him at the blurry view outside the window.

I grab his left hand in both of mine, steadying it. He stops his tapping and whispers a quiet ‘sorry’ to me. In response, I just squeeze his hand tightly.

When I look away from his face, I face forward at the blurry view too. The train stops at a station, and I look down at the people sitting in front of me, which I quickly regret. A girl is sitting directly across from us wearing a 5 Seconds of Summer t-shirt and wide, shocked eyes while she stares at us.

My eyes mirror hers then, wide and nervous. I let go of Calum’s hand quickly and stand up, moving to his other side and holding onto a metal pole instead of holding his hand. Calum looks startled when he stares up at me.

“Are you okay?” He asks, his forehead wrinkling with concern.

I nod, clearing my throat. “Yeah, yeah, fine. Just…” I sigh, trailing off. “There’s a fan, across from you,” I whisper to him as quietly as I can. I feel incredibly self-conscious now, and I don’t want Calum to be so clearly seen with me. I know he’s said — a few times now — that he doesn’t mind being seen with me, but I don’t know how true that can really be. Female fan bases are incredibly powerful and a wonderful thing, but they’re not exactly known for being welcoming or kind to the women seen with their favorite men.

His eyes flit to behind me, up to me, and back behind me. He looks back up at me again. “Just a sec.”

Calum then stands up, walking the handful of steps over to the fan. I don’t watch, but I’m sure she’s peeing her pants. “Hi, I’m Calum,” I hear him say.

I think he sits down next to her, but I’m too scared to look.

“I know,” she squeaks out.

“Do you want to take a picture?”

“If you don’t mind, I don’t want to bother you.”

“Nah, of course you’re not bothering me,” he says in his normal kind voice. “Here, want me to take it?”

They’re quiet for a moment, taking their pictures, I’m guessing.

The intercom then announces that we’ve gotten to our destination. I turn around then, both Calum and his fan standing up as well. Calum grins at me and holds out his hand for me to take. Instead of taking it, I clasp mine together and just start walking off the train. I just try to avoid the gaze of the fan and walk quickly, following the signs for the exit.

When I make it to the street, I turn around, finding Calum struggling to catch up to me. He looks confused.

“What was that?” He asks. He’s laughing slightly, but his eyebrow is still quirked.

“Sorry, I just…” I don’t know how to finish my sentence. I feel my forehead wrinkle with anxiety. I don’t know how to explain it to him.

His eyes soften and his expression returns to a slightly more neutral one. I think he’s willing to drop it, so I take my chance and run with it.

“Which way are we going? I don’t want you to be late.”

Calum nods, pulling his phone out to check the directions. “This way,” he says, and we start walking.

As we walk, I look around at the crowd around us. There is a sea of people wearing flannels, black clothes, and 5 Seconds of Summer merch. They all seem too busy with whatever they’re doing, and I don’t see any eyes on Calum, so I take advantage of our chance to camouflage him. I take my hat off and stop, stand in front of him, and put my hat on his head. I grab his sunglasses from where he has them hanging on his shirt and hold them in front of his face.

He chuckles, putting on the glasses.

“No one will ever know it’s you. You’re unrecognizable.”

“Am I allowed to hold your hand in incognito mode?”

I’ve let him hold my hand all day, and he’s kissed me in public, so I don’t know that I should really be so weird about it now. It’s just the eyes boring into me at such a close proximity. I feel watched and judged, and I haven’t even done anything wrong.

“Maybe another time,” I say quietly. I feel guilty. I want him to hold my hand, but I don’t want an army of haters to follow me around for holding a guy’s hand for a few minutes.

We walk in silence, and I’m acutely aware to the presence of Calum’s hand on the small of my back while he guides me to the unmarked side of the building where I assume Matt said to meet him. We pass a handful of security guards, which Calum takes off his sunglasses for so they can see his face. They all just nod as we walk by.

As soon as we’re out of the view of the crowds of fans, I grab Calum’s hand again.

“It just feels very… smothering,” I say while we walk. “To have all of those eyes on me for just existing in your presence.”

“I’m sorry,” Calum says. “You don’t have to do anything you want to do, and that applies to far more than just holding hands.”

I squeeze his hand gently. “I know. I just don’t want you to get any negative backlash for holding some random girl’s hand.”

Calum squeezes my hand back. “I think I can handle it.” He gives me a jokingly cocky smile.

We walk into the back door of the arena, which, as we walked around it, is absolutely massive. So many people will be here tonight, and I get to be backstage? It’s somewhat unbelievable.

As soon as we’re inside, I can hear the hoots and hollers of the rest of Calum’s band. I got to meet them for a bit back in Madrid. They’re all very nice, but very loud and rowdy. Which, to be fair, makes sense considering they’re all roughly 20 years old and famous and somewhat rich. They can kind of do whatever they want.

“Has anyone seen Calum?” I hear one of them ask from some distance away. I don’t know their voices well enough to know which one it was and I don’t know exactly where they are. I’m just following Calum’s lead.

“He’s with that girl, Orion, today, remember?” Another one says.

“Oh! Right,” the first one replies. “She’s—“

They stop talking as Calum and I enter the room, and I am glad I don’t get to know how that sentence is going to end. I don’t think I want to know.

“Orion!” The blonde one, Luke, calls out when he sees us. “You made it!”

I smile at him and he’s running over to me, wrapping me into a tight hug. “Hi, nice to see you again.” I’m still tethered to Calum with my hand in his. I’d let his hand go but he’s got a tight grip on mine.

“Pssh, no need to sound so formal,” Luke says, letting me go.

“It is nice to see you again!” I argue.

Michael and Ashton also come over to give me hugs.

“Did you guys have fun today? Cal told us all about his plans,” Ashton says, looking back and forth between Calum and me.

I nod, smiling up at Cal. “Yeah, it was great.”

“It’s a miracle you guys are back on time. Calum is known for getting lost,” Michael tells me and laughs while Calum turns slightly pink.

Luke throws an arm around Calum’s neck, yanking him towards him. “Y’know how people have ‘Find My iPhone’? We need ‘Find My Calum.’”

“Well, if he’s with me I promise to get him where he needs to be on time.”

“I knew I liked you,” Matt dryly says from across the room. It’s probably the nicest thing the man has ever said because all of the guys look awestruck from the comment.

“C’mon, let’s sit down. We’ve got some time before soundcheck.” Calum pulls me toward the black sectional in the corner of the room. He flops onto it, kicking his feet up on the coffee table littered with empty beer bottles, Red Bull cans, solo cups, and a half empty bottle of vodka.

I don’t flop onto the couch, but I do sit next to him, letting him wrap an arm around me so I’m pressed into his side. It’s nice to be this close to him.

“Do you guys want a drink? We’ve got beer here but there’s other stuff they can grab for us if you want it.” Ashton calls out to us while bending over a cooler.

“I’ll do a beer!” I yell over to him and he nods, reaching into the cooler.

“Same, thanks, Ash!”

Luke jumps over the back of the couch to join us, but he’s so lanky that he ends up knocking over some of the bottles and cups on the table with the flailing of his limbs flying through the area. What looks like mystery liquid pools on the floor, some combination of beer, vodka, Red Bull, and some mysterious blue liquid.

“Seriously, Luke?!” Ashton yells. He’s laughing, holding three bottles of Stella Artois in his hands. He gives two to Calum, who hands one to me.

“This is what happens when you let me take four shots of vodka and shotgun a Red Bull at 2 in the afternoon!”

Jesus, I think. I know they’re used to partying and Luke isn’t exactly a small person, but still. Luke is off the couch again, walking around the room. He returns with a large handful of paper towels to clean up his mess. While Luke mops up the traces of beer and Red Bull from the table and the floor, Michael and Ashton join us on the couch, still snickering about Luke’s clumsiness.

I set my beer on the table and decide to help prevent anything else of the sort from happening again, so I start stacking up the solo cups and grab as many cans and bottles as I can hold. I meet Luke at the trash can to drop them in after his soaked paper towels, and he gives me a puzzled look.

“What are you doing?” Luke asks with a chuckle.

“I just thought it would prevent future spills,” I defend myself, going back to the couch to collect the rest, but Calum followed my lead and grabbed what was left.

“It wasn’t your mess to clean, but thank you,” Luke says and he gives me a bright, genuine smile.

When we sit back on the couch, Luke manages to put his feet up on the coffee table without spilling things, and we can all relax for a minute. Calum’s arm is back around me, and I take a few sips from my beer. All of the boys, aside from Cal, are tapping around on their phones. I try to decide if I want to talk to them or just whisper to Calum, which sounds kind of awkward, so I clear my throat.

“What did you guys do today?” I ask.

They all look up at their phones and at each other, surprise written on their faces.

“Not much, really,” Ash says, shrugging. “Got lunch at a place near where we used to live, reliving the glory days.”

“You guys used to live here?” They’re from Australia and they’ve toured a lot in the last few years. When did they live in London? Calum hadn’t mentioned it at all.

“Yeah, not for too long. Before the One Direction era.” Ashton smiles, amused by my surprised expression.

They had to have been babies then but still moved all the way to London for their careers. I can’t imagine my family being OK with shipping me across the world at that age, but I guess it must just be a testament to just how special and talented the four of them are. They were born for this life. Their parents must have known it.

“Anywhere else you’ve lived besides Australia, London, and LA?” I ask. I direct the question at Calum, even though he’s not the one saying anything.

“Cal almost moved to Brazil,” Ashton answers, making Calum shoot him a glare.

I raise my eyebrows. “Brazil?”

Calum flushes pink and avoids my gaze. “Yeah, but it didn’t happen.”

“Well, we moved to London because he didn’t move to Brazil, basically,” Ashton clarifies.

“What the hell was in Brazil?” I ask through slight laughter.

“Football,” Calum replies, the moniker supposedly enough information to explain the whole thing.

“Man, you really don’t know anything about us, do you?” Michael asks. He looks incredibly amused and he’s giggling after his question.

“Oi, Mike, be nice,” Ashton scolds while whacking Michael’s head softly.

“Soccer was in Brazil?” I ask Calum, trying to understand the bigger picture.

“Yeah, I went for some training,” he says. “Was supposed to go back, but decided I’d rather be in a band with these losers instead of playing footy.”

I look around the room at the rest of them, trying to see if any of them care to clarify. He was going to move to Brazil for soccer… like, to play professionally? I go to ask another question, but then a loud group of people walk in, demanding all of our attention.

They all look vaguely familiar, probably because I’ve seen pictures of at least a few of them on Calum’s Instagram. Cal’s bandmates all stand up and greet the crowd, embracing them, making a lot of noise, but Calum stays seated right next to me.

“Do you need to go say hi to them?” I ask. When I look at him, I find he’s staring at me.

“No, I was with most of them last night,” he shrugs.

I nod, glancing quickly back over at the people. The other three boys are totally swallowed by the mass of their friends. I look back to Cal and he’s inched his face closer to mine.

“I was supposed to go pro,” he says quietly. “With soccer, I mean. My parents were pissed when I told them I wanted to do this instead.”

“I’m sure they’re happy with the decision now.”

He grins, leaning a few inches forward so he can kiss me. It’s swift and short, but it’s still as sweet as can be. “Are you always like this?”

I furrow my brow. “Like what?”

“Always making the person you’re talking to feel like the most important person in the room.”

Then it’s my turn to blush. My cheeks get hot and I look away from Calum nervously. I try to always include people and ask questions, but I know sometimes it doesn’t come off well and it seems like I’m being annoying. It’s a relief that Calum thinks positively of my conversational habits.

“I like learning about you,” I confess. “And the rest of them. You’re all fun.”

Calum nods and then kisses me again. “Learning about you might just be my new favorite thing.”

My heart soars and I have to look away. If I look into his eyes, I’ll be a goner. I’ll be totally obsessed with this guy. He’s saying and doing all of the right things to get me to like him, and I have to protect myself. This is just temporary, while they’re touring Europe.

“Who are all those people?” I ask him, looking down at my lap.

He sighs. “It’s a mix of some of our music friends from LA, a few people we knew when we lived here, uh… oh, Mike’s girlfriend, Crystal. She’s the one with purple hair. There’s a girl Luke’s dating here, too.” Calum leans closer, so his mouth is by my ear. “But none of us like her,” he whispers.

I laugh slightly, but since I don’t know the girl I don’t want to base my opinions on just what Calum has said. “Which one is she?”

Cal laughs somewhat bitterly. “Don’t worry, you’ll know.”

I look over at the group of people and try to find Crystal and this other girl. Crystal I spot easily since, like Calum had mentioned, she has purple hair. She’s tall and pretty, with a sweet smile and light eyes, talking to Michael and another couple of guys. One I recognize as one of the members of the opening act. Then I look to Luke and find a tall girl with dark hair draped over him while he talks to a few of the other people. Got it. That’s the one that’s dating him. She’s not looking at any of the people huddled with, just clinging to Luke and standing there.

When I look back to Crystal to try to get a better look at her, she’s looking at me. Michael is saying something to her, and when she notices me looking her way, she smiles and waves. I smile and wave back awkwardly. Crystal then turns to Michael, puts a hand on his arm, and says something to him quickly before she walks over to the couch, sitting a few feet away from Cal and me and still smiling.

“Hi! I’m Crystal,” she says.

“Oh, hi! I’m Orion.”

Crystal smiles. “Oh, I know. This one won’t stop blabbing on about you and that club. What was it called again?” She directs the question to Calum, who looks embarrassed by her comment.

“Space Monkey,” I say for him. “My roommate’s girlfriend is a bartender there.”

She nods. “Such a weird name. Sorry, I would’ve said hi at the Madrid show, but wasn’t sure if it would have been overwhelming.”

I look to Calum, who hadn’t mentioned that there were other guests at the Madrid show. We only hung out with the band itself and my roommates. After the show, Calum and I went back to his hotel and my roommates went out with the band. None of them really remembered much the next morning, but they did say they had a fun time.

Crystal seems to know what I’m thinking and explains everything for Calum. “We hung out in the VIP viewing area that night, and when we went out after, I did get to meet your roommates. They were all so sweet, but we were all pretty wasted, so not sure if they remember it.”

“Sorry, I should’ve mentioned you could hang in the VIP section,” Calum apologizes. “I figured you’d prefer the pit.”

I laugh nervously. “Yeah, I do prefer the pit, but just feel bad if we kept you guys out of the backstage area that evening.”

Crystal shakes her head. “No, you were totally fine! We just went out for dinner before the show.”

I just nod. I didn’t realize they all had such a large entourage.

“I’m glad we get to meet you this time,” Crystal adds, still smiling very kindly at me. “Is this your first time to London?”

Calum has his arm around me and is lightly tracing shapes into my side and I’m at ease with his presence. Crystal isn’t scary or anything, but she seems eons cooler than I’ll ever be and she’s far prettier than I am. She also just seems to have it all together. I’m trying to make a good first impression.

“It is,” I answer. “I love it. Yours?”

She shakes her head. “No, I’ve been a few times, but I love it too. Anyway, I didn’t mean to interrupt you guys, just wanted to pop over and say hi. Come find me during soundcheck if you want someone to hang out with.”

I smile at her graciously. “Thank you, I probably will.”

Crystal gets up then and walks back over to Michael, who greets her by wrapping an arm around her waist while they pick up their conversation with their friends. The whole lot of them seem to mesh together like they’ve spent a lot of time with each other. It’s just crazy because there are so many of them.

“Wait, doesn’t your sister live in London?” I ask suddenly, realizing Calum’s sister doesn’t seem to be in the crowd. I look back at him and he giggles.

“She does, but she’s in LA right now.”

I sigh with relief. Meeting all these random people is a lot, but meeting Calum’s sister would be even more intense. She’s family. She’s not someone you introduce to a girl you met at a nightclub a few days prior that you hooked up with and invited to another show.

“What’s she like?” I ask. Calum smiles at the question, a light appearing in his brown eyes.

“She’s amazing. An incredible songwriter and singer. She’s kind, and she’s like a big sister to all of us, really. She’s my best friend. I’d do anything for her.”

“What’s her name?”

“Mali-Koa, but we just call her Mali.”

I look down at his arm, the name familiar because of the tattoo there. I trace the outline of the bird. “Like your tattoo.”

He nods. “Yes, like my tattoo,” he says. “Do you have siblings?”

I grin, instantly seizing my chance to show him pictures of my brother and getting my phone out. “I have a little brother. He’s four. His name is Eridanus, but we just call him Eri. He’s the sweetest boy ever.”

I pass Calum my phone with the album of photos with Eri and me lighting up the screen. He scrolls through, stopping at the one where Eri smeared brownie batter on my face and we both were laughing uncontrollably.

“You guys are cute,” Cal comments, handing my phone back.

“Boys, stage in 5!” Matt appears out of nowhere and disrupts the entire room’s conversations.

There’s a collective groan and Calum downs most of his beer quickly before he kisses my cheek, saying he’s gotta use the bathroom and will see me after soundcheck.

“You’ll be okay back here, right? You can also come watch, but it’s usually pretty boring. Or I can give you some cash if you want to go grab a coffee nearby or something?”

“I’ll be fine,” I tell him. He gives me a grin before he runs off.

I decide to take Crystal up on her offer and make my way over to her. She lights up as I approach her, her smile widening.

“Can I hang out with you for a bit?” I ask.

“Of course,” she says. “Here, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

Crystal guides me through the group like I’m a show pony. I try to remember everyone’s names but it’s a total lost cause. Everyone is pretty nice, but some are more interested in meeting me than others. I don’t blame them — I’m sure there’s a fairly consistent rotation of people coming through this group in my shoes. It might not be worth trying to really connect with girls like me.

After I’ve met everyone, she shows me where the bathroom is and where I can get food if I’m hungry. Then, we head to the side of the stage so we can watch soundcheck. She takes me to Calum’s side of the stage instead of Michael’s, saying she sees it almost every night, so missing it this once isn’t that big of a deal. He looks surprised, but pleasantly, when he notices us, waving at me. I give him a thumbs up.

The soundcheck lasts for about an hour, and they play a few songs that they didn’t play at the Madrid show. I’ve tried to study their discography over the past few days, but I haven’t been able to learn everything yet, so I don’t know which songs are which. When I get a glimpse of Crystal’s face while we watch, she looks so proud.

“How long have you guys been together?” I ask her as we walk back to the dressing room.

Crystal laughs. “We’ve been friends for a while, but officially together for about 6 months.”

“So you’re used to… all this? By now?”

She laughs again and shakes her head. “I don’t think it’s something you ever get used to.”

I’m opening my second bottle of beer when the boys come backstage again, Calum coming straight to me. Crystal winks at me when he approaches and ducks away to catch up with Michael. I spin around to face Calum.

“You don’t have to come straight to me, you know,” I tell him. He’s taking a few gulps of his own fresh beer.

“You’re my guest,” he defends. “I’m not just gonna leave you hanging.”

I roll my eyes. “I can fend for myself.”

Calum laughs quietly. “Trust me, I know you can.”

I raise an eyebrow at him and take a swig of my beer. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, maybe that you moved to a country you’ve never been to alone? You navigated two international airports alone and the transit systems? Hell, Matt likes you. That’s something.”

“It��s not that hard. You just follow signs.”

Now Calum rolls his eyes. “Let me talk you up, please.”

I bite my tongue, holding back on making a snarky comment. Instead, I do my best to smile at him somewhat sweetly. “Fine.”

He kisses me again then and when he pulls back he grabs my hand in his, pulling me away from the mass of people and out the door. Once outside, he turns us around a corner so we’re away from the bodyguards and crew. As soon as we’re out of everyone’s sight, he grabs my hips and gently pushes me against the cinder block wall with his beer bottle pressed against my side.

Calum grazes his lips against mine, hovering without making full contact. I take matters into my own hands and wrap my arms around his neck to pull him down and kiss him, but my beer bottle, slick with condensation, slips out of my hand and crashes onto the pavement, shattering.

“Shit!”

Calum falls into a fit of laughter, stepping back to assess the mess I’ve just made. “What is it with you and spilling drinks?!”

read next chapter

a/n: not that i need to justify it but flashback chapters serve as some relief for all the weight of everything going on and also i want people to LOVE orion and cal together. that's the bigger goal ofc.

[cadybear420]

WIP Wednesday!

Thanks to @jerzwriter for the tag!

I've got like, one or two other WIP fics, but they're currently on hiatus while I'm focusing mainly on this Evie x Aiden birthday fic. Although Evie's birthday this year has already passed, I'd still like to get this fic out by the end of her birth month haha.

Tagging: @inlocusmads @peonyblossom @aces-and-angels @aria-ashryver @lover-also-fighter-also (apologies if you've already been tagged this week, this is my first time doing a WIP Wednesday thing so I'm a bit unfamiliar with the process)

Title: [Title still pending.]

Rating: G.

Fandom: High School Story (Original Trilogy)

Pairing: Evie Ayana (f!MC) x Aiden Zhou

Friday, March 8, 2019. The day of Evie’s 18th birthday.

She’d been planning to host a birthday party at one of her favorite restaurants in the city, starting in the early evening after school. Almost everyone she knew from school was invited. 

It was late in the afternoon now. Evie took one last look at herself in her new outfit– a navy blue suit with a purple floral necktie– and grinned, before dashing to the living room. There, her dad was checking his phone. 

“Alright, I’m ready to go!” she said. 

He turned to her. “Actually… we can’t leave just yet…”

She pouted. “What??? But Daaaad, the party starts at 5 PM and it’s already 4:45!”

“The people doing the decorations are… taking a bit longer than expected.”

“Oh…”

“It’s a bit awkward to go to a party when they’re still putting decorations up, isn’t it?”

“That’s true,” her face softened. “Do the other guests know?”

“...yep! I’ve just told them, in fact.”

“Okay… but how long do we have to wait?”

“Shouldn’t be more than… ten to twenty minutes?”

Evie pouted again. 

“It’s not that long…”

“Okay, fiiiiine, I’ll be patient…”

“And I’ll be doctor!”

Evie winced. “Dad, NO…”

…

About twenty minutes passed, and then finally, her dad said it was okay to start driving to the restaurant. After a fifteen minute drive, they arrived, and Evie wasted no time going in. 

The room was alive with upbeat music, purple decorative lights and flowers, and many of Evie’s friends. It seemed like just about everyone she’d invited had shown up– her main friend group, her teammates, her friends from the other cliques and Hearst, Cher and her friends from theatre, the seniors from last year who hadn’t gone away for college… And all of them greeted her with a big “Happy birthday, Evie!!!”, in unison. 

Evie inhaled, beaming at her friends. Many of them ran over to hug her, a few others cheered for her. Then she saw Emma and Cher push their way through the crowd and grab her by her arms. 

“Evie! There’s a special surprise for you, right now” said Cher. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!” said Emma. “Just come with us…” 

The crowd parted, making way for Emma and Cher to pull Evie to the opposite side of the room. As they did, the party music slowly faded out and the lights began to dim. 

When they made it to the opposite end of the room, a warm spotlight turned on over her, and there she saw it. The jazz band, all set up with their instruments and dressed in matching black-and-red suits and… devil horns?

And at the front of it all… was none other than her beautiful boyfriend Aiden. And she just about stopped in her tracks when she took in his outfit– an ivory-colored flapper dress that had silver beads sewn into intricate patterns, and hung just barely above his knees. Plus, a couple of matching long pearl necklaces, and a fluffy white halo accessory over his head.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

And that's as much as I've gotten so far. What exactly is Aiden's surprise for Evie? Hopefully we'll see soon enough.

[lisbeth-kk]

May 12 prompt: blue. (Thanks for the tag @notjustamum @calaisreno

Bluebell

When Rosie Watson was old enough to decide which clothes to buy or wear, she always chose Sherlock’s favourite colour. Not that she knew it, but she was somehow drawn to it, nevertheless. Dresses, jumpers, t-shirts, trousers, skirts, jackets, even socks gifted in the wrong colour had to be brought back to the shop and changed. She could go along with the other colours if there were bees on the fabric, which Molly tried her best to find as to brighten up the little girl’s wardrobe.

Sherlock loved to see all the different shades of blue on his little girl. It made her eyes look even more blue than they originally were. He also liked to see his John in blue. John and Rosie’s eyes were so similar, although Rosie’s were a tiny bit lighter than John’s. 

Sherlock never stopped using his chosen pet name on Rosie. John had prepared him that once she started school, or at least in her teens, she would oppose him to use the pet name further. To John’s astonishment and Sherlock’s relief, it never happened. Rosie loved that her Papa called her Bluebell and occasionally Bee, but mostly it was the former.

***

John feared for Sherlock’s sanity when Rosie told them she was going abroad for her studies. He was careful not to show his distress to Rosie herself, but whenever he and John were alone at Baker Street in those days, he suffered terribly.

“What if she never comes back to England, John. Sydney’s so far away. She’s going to forget us, isn’t she? I don’t want her to go, John! I know I’m being foolish, but to not have her here regularly is an unbearable thought. She…”

“Shush now, my love,” John had murmured, holding Sherlock tight while stroking his hair. “I know it’s hard for you. It is for me too, but we have to let her go. Let her form her own life. We can’t keep her locked up here forever. And of course she won’t forget us, silly. We’re her parents, and you know she loves us. She shows us that every day, doesn’t she?”

“I know, John. I know, but it’s so hard. The hardest thing I’ve ever done. Well…almost.”

Sherlock had buried his face in John’s neck and cried. It was a rare occurrence that Sherlock broke down like this, and John had a hard time preventing his own tears from welling over. He held his husband, soothed him, murmuring sweet words and reassurances in his ear, and finally Sherlock had gathered himself. His eyes were red rimmed, and John kissed away the tears on his cheeks.

“We’ll go visit her, you know,” John said, and Sherlock nodded.

“Of course. If she…”

“Sherlock, please. She’ll want us to come visit. You know that.”

“Yes, John. It’s just…when it comes to the two of you. The thought of losing…”

“I know, sweetheart. We feel the same way. That’s what undying love does to you,” John said and kissed Sherlock tenderly.

***

As Rosie’s departure came closer, Sherlock had been less fragile. When there wasn’t a case or experiment to devote his time to, he read all about Rosie’s university, and the city itself. Afterwards he knew more about the subject than Rosie herself, which surprised no one.

“It looks really promising, Bluebell,” Sherlock stated over dinner a few weeks before Rosie’s exodus, as Sherlock called it. “You’ll like it there, I think.”

“I’m sure I will, Papa. Sylvia knows a couple of students there, and they’re over the moon,” Rosie retorted and extended a hand to squeeze Sherlock’s hand.

John had to blink hard and bite his inner cheek not to burst into tears when he saw their daughter soothing Sherlock. She was so aware of his emotions. A Watson thing, John thought to himself and smiled at his beloved husband who cocked an eye brow at him, silently asking, “you alright?” John just nudged his foot reassuring him, and Sherlock went back to the conversation with his Bluebell.

***

A serious amount of tears were spilled at Heathrow airport when Rosie clung to her parents, suddenly realising that she wouldn’t be able to hug them for months. John was a mess to, and it was in situations like these, Sherlock found his aptitude to be strong for all of them. He murmured soothing words to them both, wrapping them up in his arms, letting them cry, while he kissed them tenderly.

“Be in touch as often as you see fit, Bee,” Sherlock said softly while cradling Rosie’s face. “I won’t hesitate to call in a favour from uncle Myc if necessary.”

Rosie beamed up at her Papa with blurry eyes and smiled, then giggled as she pictured her uncle receiving said call.

After one last group hug, Rosie walked away from them to her future. John grabbed Sherlock’s hand tight and when Rosie had disappeared in the crowd, Sherlock pulled a shaky John to his chest and kissed the top of his head.

“She’ll be fine, John. She’s a Watson, after all.”

“A Holmes Watson in fact,” John said, lifted his head and kissed Sherlock’s lips.

@totallysilvergirl @missdeliadili @meetinginsamarra @topsyturvy-turtely @raina-at

[s-creations]

Fluctuates Chapter 3 - Dance

One-Shot entries for the #RadioStatic Week 2024.

Yep, I'm doing this again! I'm going to make sure that I can keep track with uploading this time. Also, I will be sticking with the Fluff path, because I need more Fluff with these two.

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Relationships: Alastor/Vox (RadioStatic) Warnings/Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Lots of Fluff because I want it, Rosie will be in this, Probably other characters not sure at the moment.

“Sir, there’s a caller on the phone for you.”

Vox held back a grumble hearing his secretary’s voice. Not pulling away from the paperwork stacked in front of him as he snapped out, “Take a message and hang up. I’m a little busy.”

“I’ve already tried that sir, they just called back. Now with the threat to come down here to meet with you personally.”

“Ha! What idiot would be dumb enough to threaten me? Tell them if they want a fight that actions speak louder than words.”

“...Do…you want me to relay that sir?”

“Yes, why else would I say it?”

“I don’t think-”

“Well then it’s a wonderful thing that I don’t pay you to work. Especially after I’ve told you what to do. Now get the fuck out of my office and do your job.”

Vox heard the small sigh, knowing the other was shaking her head as she left without the need to look up. At least he was alone again. Now, back to the more important task of figuring this mess out. 

Valentino’s movies were flopping recently, they’re not making the money they’re supposed to be. So, in order to keep that afloat, he’ll need to move money. But where to pull from? Velvette will castrate him if he takes anything from her funds. Besides, she has a show coming up and she’ll need all the spending money to make it happen. Now the question is, which pool of his own funding does he pull from? And should he make a contract so that he can make sure Valentino returns the funds once he makes profit back? Because he knew that moth was notorious for making every monetary coverage a donation. How can someone be bleeding money like this-

“Vox.”

Said Overlord jerked up hearing his name. His screen flickering out for a moment, Vox furiously blinking to gain his vision back. Confusion took over as he saw Alastor standing on the other side of the desk.

“Al? What…are you doing here?”

“Well, you said if I wanted to fight to just come here. But I’m not sure why you thought I’d want to fight, an interesting conclusion to reach.”

“...That was you on the phone?”

Alastor tilted his head with a sympathetic smile, “Oh, my dear Picture Box. I was calling because I wanted to see how terribly in depth with your work you are. Call me a worried dear when I was basically told I was instigating trouble.” 

“No. No, no, I’m sorry, I wasn’t told it was you on the phone. I wouldn’t say that to you, you know that. But…why were you calling? I was going to be home soon. I just have a bit more paperwork and money moving to deal with. I didn’t mean to work this late.”

That didn’t seem to calm Alastor. Who’s smile wilted further. “Vox, how long do you think you’ve been working?”

“Ah, um, well…” Vox looked around to try and find his clock. Only to remember that he’d destroyed it accidentally a few days ago. After his temper rose quickly and was only quelled when he released some of the energy out as an electrical blast. “I’m not sure. Only a few hours past my normal schedule? Oh fuck, we were supposed to have dinner. Am I late for that?”

Alastor let out a heavy sigh as he shook his head. “My dear… It’s the next afternoon.”

Silence.

“...What? No…no, it’s not. I had an alarm set.” As if he could prove a point, Vox pulled out his phone to show the proper time. It wasn’t that late, right? 

Vox felt his insides turn to ice when he read the date. It was the next day, well into the afternoon. There were numerous alerts of texts and phone calls he’d missed. Turning it on the side, Vox noted that the silencer was on.

He remembered turning it off so he wouldn’t be distracted. 

He hadn’t heard his alarm.

He hadn’t heard a single thing. 

Vox partially rose from his seat before plopping back down. Attention shifting from his phone, to Alastor, back to his phone, to anywhere in the room. As if the answer to this situation was hidden somewhere in the walls. Mouth left to hang open in disbelief, no noise leaving it. It was clear he was lost as to how he was supposed to recover. 

“Fuck… I didn’t… Fuck, I really didn’t mean to…” He eventually got out. His body jerked as if he was trying to find something physical to do. Soon getting to his feet to pace around the office, eyes on the phone as he took in the information once more. 

“I worked…for 36 hours? How? Fuck, I thought… Did you go to the- Fuck!” 

Seeing the other working himself into a spiral, Alastor stepped forward to grab Vox’s arm. “Calm down, this isn’t helping you.” 

“How the fuck am I supposed to be calm! I- We were supposed to go out, we had plans! And I just blew them off because I just can’t turn off need to work, fuck!” 

“You didn’t do this intentionally.” 

Vox panted weakly as his exhaustion finally caught up to him. “...How are you not mad at me?”

“Because I’m more worried about your health than a dinner date. Come on, let’s get you home.” 

There was no fight as Alastor wrapped an arm around Vox, leading the newly made Overlord out of the building. Offering a nod to the secretary as she closed up and made her own way home. Their travers was slow and quiet. Vox clearly battling his inner thoughts while fighting to stay awake. Needing to lean on Alastor as the stumble walked on the pavement. 

They made their way into their large house. Alastor fully intent on getting Vox to lay down as quickly as possible. Only for his progress to be halted when, as he moved to have Vox sit down, the Media Overlord grabbed onto him.

“Vox-”

“I’m sorry…” Vox’s voice was soft, his screen resting on Alastor’s shoulder. 

“I know, and we can talk about this later. But you need to rest.”

“Can’t.”

Alastor let out a heavy sigh, “And why not?”

“I can’t…quiet down my thoughts. They haven’t shut up since we left…” 

“Then what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know…”

It took everything to not sigh again. Instead, Alastor shifted them so Vox’s arms were wrapped around the Radio Demon’s shoulders. Who made sure the other was leaning against him comfortably, Alastor wrapping his arms around, making sure to gently rub Vox’s back. Soon, the air was filled with gentle music, a soft lullaby to hopefully sooth the stressed demon. Alastor began to sway to the slow tune, even beginning to hum along with the song. 

“Wha’re you doin’?” Vox’s voice cracked from exhaustion, hands gripping onto Alastor. 

“Helping you relax,” Alastor replied softly, “A little dance to tire you out, just focus on the music.”

“‘M sorry…”

“I know. We’ll talk later. Let’s just get you to sleep.”

Vox let out a small hum as he melted into Alastor’s hold. Eyes closing while his screen dimmed, the constant buzzing of noise quieting down as the music replaced it. Barely awake as the sway dance slowed and he was moved to the bed. Slipping out of consciousness as hears Alastor whisper, “Sleep well, my silly little picture box.”

[baronessblixen]

So I just read your Antarctica angsty fic and saw you said you wanted to keep doing more angst. I’ve been craving a The Field Where I Died fic I looked up random angst dialog and came across ‘What are you trying to say?’ Super vague but a place to start! Happy fictober!!!

Thank you so much for the prompt! I hope I made it angsty 😁

Fictober Day 4 | Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2022 | Wc: 1804

Dreams of the Past

The first few times he dreams about Scully, he ignores it. He doesn’t remember what they’re about, is only left with a lingering feeling. It fades quickly every time and makes room for everyday life, for what happens in daylight. Until one night when he dreams of her screaming.

She’s half sitting, half lying on a bed, being tended by strangers while Mulder stands in the doorway, grappled by fear. He watches Scully, still screeching, being told to push! push! but no matter how hard she tries, there’s no baby. There should be a baby, he realizes. Her stomach is protruding, bigger than he ever thought possible. They’re having a baby. His heart swells before it breaks into pieces.

“We’re losing her,” someone says. “What else can we do? What can we do?”

“There’s nothing we can do,” a man says, stepping away from Scully, who is only whimpering in agony now. “She will die.”

“No!” This time it’s Mulder who screams. A moment later, he finds himself in his bed, panting and sweating. Just a dream. It was just a dream. A nightmare. His ears are ringing and he can still see Scully clear as a picture, framed by dim candlelight, trying to birth their child. Mulder wraps his arms around himself, feeling the loss of the child, of his beloved wife. Scully. He reminds himself that it wasn’t real. That all he has to do is pick up the phone and call Scully to hear her voice. He knows she’d call him crazy and for once, she’d be right. Thinking about Scully calms him enough to lie back down. It’s just after 2 am, far too early to stay awake.

Not once since the Ephesian case a couple of weeks ago has he dreamed about Melissa Riedal. Up until now, he hasn’t even thought about her. Instead, Scully has been invading his dreams. He wishes he could remember the rest of them. He wants to know if all of them have been this devastating. Is he losing her in every dream he’s had? In every life they’ve lived? He shudders thinking about it. Closing his eyes, he wills himself to relax. As much as he doesn’t want to relive the moment – losing her – he wants to keep going. He wants to see what else his mind has to offer him. After all, he’s no stranger to pain.

It doesn’t take him long to fall back asleep. Once, as a student, he tried to get into lucid dreaming, hoping it might help him make progress in finding Samantha. Then he met Phoebe and everything went to hell. Including his dreams and the rest of his sanity. It has been years since he’s last tried it and while he’s aware that he’s fast asleep and dreaming, there’s nothing he can do.

He takes in his surroundings, the sparsely decorated apartment, the lack of TV, the metallic drumming of a radio in another room. He walks around, trying to find clues if he – his past self – lives here. There’s an eeriness in the air, alerting him to be careful. He stops in front of a room, the door closed. That’s where the music is coming from, he realizes. It’s an old tune, but he recognizes its melody. This must be the 1930s or 40s. His stomach plummets before he opens the door. His eyes land on her body on the bed, still and pale. Her lips are parted slightly as if she had tried to say something before death took her.

He sits up in bed, gasping for air. Not again. Not Scully. Her face was so devoid of color, of everything that makes her the woman he… but it was her. He knows it was her. He no longer cares that it’s the middle of the night. He needs to see Scully. Needs to know what she’s thinking. He needs to know she’s okay.

It’s just after 4 am when he gets to her apartment. He considers using his key, but he doesn’t want to freak Scully out. No more than him showing up here in the middle of the night will do anyway. He should have called, he thinks, as he gently raps on her door. There’s shuffling on the other side of it before Scully opens the door. He’s never been so happy to see her. Her hair is sleep-ruffled and her pajama crooked, but she’s never looked more beautiful to him.

“Mulder, what time is it?”

“Late. Or early, however you want to look at it.”

“What happened?” She asks stifling a yawn. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay,” he says truthfully, smiling at her. At least physically he is and he doesn’t want to talk about his dreams out here in front of her apartment. “Can I come in? I don’t want to wake your neighbors too.”

“Of course. Come on in.” He follows her inside, taking off his coat and shoes, while she walks into the kitchen.

“Do you want coffee? I think I’m going to make coffee,” she says, yawning again. Mulder watches her, amazed at how normal everything is. She’s moving around her kitchen barefoot, asking him questions that he barely hears. She’s here. She’s alive. She’s fine. He thinks of his first dream, of her dying in childbirth. He couldn’t help her, was helpless. Then, in the second dream, he was too late. Each time he lost her. In this life, right now, nothing is wrong at all.

“Mulder, why are you here?”

“I- I needed to see you.”

“Why? Is it a case?” She rubs her eyes, hiding another yawn behind her hand.

“Have you ever had nightmares that felt so real that you… that you had to make sure they weren’t?”

“Did you have a nightmare?” She asks him. “Was it about Samantha?”

“Why do you think- no, it wasn’t about Samantha.”

“Let’s sit down, Mulder,” Scully says with a sigh. “I’m still trying to wake up. Tell me what happened?”

“I’ve been having dreams,” Mulder begins, glancing at her. “Ever since the Ephesian case. About… I think I’ve been dreaming about my past lives.”

“Melissa Riedal,” Scully says. “You were dreaming about her.”

“No,” he says. “I’ve been dreaming about… you.”

“You said it was nightmares,” she says, her voice gentle. She puts a hand over his and he stares at it for a moment, relishing her touch. “Do you want to talk about them?” When he lifts his eyes to hers, he can see that she wants to know. But she doesn’t know what he’s seen.

“Mulder, they’re just dreams,” she assures him. “They’re not real. No matter what happened in them, it’s not real.”

“But that’s just it, Scully. It was real.”

“What are you trying to say?” She squeezes his hand.

“I believe that they weren’t just dreams. I think that- whatever my relationship with Melissa Riedal was in this life or any other, pales in comparison to what we have in every life. But that’s not why I’m here, or why I had to see you.”

“What did you see?”

“You didn’t have any dreams?” Mulder asks instead, not wanting to put her through what he’s experienced. Her screaming. The pain she must have endured.

“No,” she says softly, giving him a smile. “I can take it, Mulder. Just tell me. You were spooked enough to come here in the middle of the night.”

“Well, I am Spooky Mulder, aren’t I?”

“Mulder,” she warns. “I want to know.” He nods, preparing himself. He puts his other hand over their entwined ones, needing to feel her warmth and strength.

“Tonight was the first time that I woke up from my dreams. Maybe we were happy in all those other lives,” he says. “In my first dream, you were… you were in labor. You were screaming. You were screaming so much, Scully. There was blood, but… there was no baby. They couldn’t get to the baby. The doctor – I think it was the doctor – said you were going to die.” He hears her gasp and he looks at her. There are tears in her eyes and when one falls, he wipes it away.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have-”

“Mulder, I’m not crying for me. Or whatever version of me that you think you saw in your dream. I’m crying because you had to experience that. What was the second dream?”

“I don’t- I don’t really know. I was in an apartment. I think it was the 1940s. Maybe it was wartime. I don’t know. I found you- there was a room and you were in it, but you were, um. You were…” He can no longer stop his own tears from falling. He hears Scully whisper something and then she wraps her arms around him, holding him close. His tears land on her shoulder where her pajama top has slipped out of position. She cradles his head, her fingers in his hair.

“It’s okay,” she whispers with a kiss to his temple. “It was just a dream, okay? I’m here, aren’t I?” He nods against her shoulder, taking in her sleepy scent, her Scullyness. She’s real. This is not a dream and he’s holding her. But what if this life ends like all the others? With him unable to save her? With him always being too late?

“Your nightmares are not reality. We don’t know what the future will bring, but I’m here, right? Look at me.” He lifts her head and they’re close together. Her face is devoid of make-up, making her look impossibly young. He can see her beauty mark that she always covers up. But he knows her secret. He touches it softly, letting his finger drift lower to her lips. She lets him touch her, watching his every move.

“You see? I’m real.”

“You shouldn’t cover this up, Scully. You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she says. “Are you feeling better now?” He thinks about it for a moment and then he nods.

“Good. Do you think you can sleep some more?” She asks and he tenses. “I’m not sending you home. You can stay here, but I’m just so tired,” she admits with a shy smile.

“You sleep,” he says.

“What about you?” She yawns and gets comfortable right there with him on the couch, snuggling into his side.

“I’m perfectly fine.”

“Just another hour or so,” she says. “If you have another nightmare,” she says, turning to give him a sleepy look. “You can wake me.”

He knows he won’t sleep, but he nods anyway.

“Sweet dreams, Scully.” She smiles at him before she closes her eyes. Mulder holds her in his arms, content to feel her solid against her. He doesn’t need to dream when she’s right here with him.

[late-to-the-fandom]

Writing Questions Tag Game

I was tagged by @mrsmungus … a week ago? I no longer have any concept of time whatsoever. I also have no idea who has done this so I’m tagging a few and if I missed yours I apologize

Tagging: @shipping-through-eternity @mousterian-writes @velvethopewrites @diaryofomellas @unknownogre @frostedlemonwriter @tidesages @kharrisdawndancer

1. What is your absolute all-time favorite idea you've ever had? I loved my non-linear storytelling in Light & Shadows. It was so much fun to write and read and it’s really ruined regular chaptered fics for me now 😅

2. Is there a question you've been asked in the past that really stands out to you and you still think about sometimes? I was asked once on a very old fic how my writing flowed so easily it didn’t even feel like reading. Which is one of my favourite things I’ve been told but the answer is I wish I knew so I could do it all the time.

3. What is your favorite part of being a writer? What parts could you take or leave? The beginning and the end. I love the conception, the outlining, the planning, the seeing the scene in my head, hearing the dialogue unfold - and I love the completed product where I can finally sit down and read what I saw in my head out loud. The middle part where I’m actually choosing word after word gets hairy, especially when my preconceived notion of how a scene should go turns out to be wrong and I’m fighting the characters.

4. What is your greatest motivation to write/create? There is a story I want to read and it doesn’t exist yet so I have to write it.

5. What is the best piece of advice you've ever read or been given as a writer? To not take writing advice from anyone whose writing you don’t personally appreciate. They’re trying to lead you in a direction you don’t want to go anyway.

6. What do you wish you knew when you were first starting out writing? It’s ok to have the same word appear in the same paragraph. Sometimes it just has to be done and it’s ok.

7.What is your favorite story you've written TO COMPLETION? Link it if you'd like and can! This is like asking me to choose my favourite child. I can’t do it. I love all of them. The most popular I’ve ever written is here. The one I’m proudest of just based on how long it took me and how hard it was is here.

8.What is your favorite out-of-the-box quote?Lee Smith said, “a writer is someone who is writing not someone who is publishing,” and I think that tends to be forgotten. Fanfiction is generally considered (even by those who write it) as the warmup to “real” writing and I disagree whole heartedly. I think there are probably on the whole more meaningful and beautiful fanfics then there are original novels because the people who write fanfic are doing it out of love for characters more than wanting to write something they think they can sell (not universally true anymore, but still a general principle)

9. Which of your characters would you say has the most controversial mindset? Why do you say so and how do you personally feel about their ideals? I think both Renathal and the Maw Walker have some controversial principles, which I like about them because I never wanted them to be good/bad coded. Renathal is straight up pro-torture and espouses the benefits of suffering for atonement. The Maw Walker has a jaded opinion on life in general and is willing to kill whoever she’s told without thinking too deeply about it. I don’t agree with either of those things myself but it’s who they are.

10. If you when you first started writing met you now, what would younger you think? I think she would be happy to find out that I came back from a two year hiatus. I hope she would be impressed at the improvement in our prose. I think she would be stunned at the ambitious projects (for us) I’m attempting to take on and worried (even more than I am) that they’re still out of our writing depths.

[yourlocalartsonist]

ROTTMNT Moths Fly In Packs - Chapter Five

A/N: Pain. Suffering. Pain. Agony. Sorry for dying for the past few weeks (month?) but I was just struggling with this chapter bro like fr. It was originally much much MUCH longer but I felt like it got so long that it cluttered everything up and was just taking too long to write. So, I split the chapters up. Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm leaving y'all on a cliffhanger for this chapter but hey! Chapter six is almost done so it should be out waaaaaay sooner and you won't have to suffer for too long :> Hope you guys enjoy this and sorry for the wait and the shorter chapter lmao

Also! Credit to: @sweaterrat for being my beloved beta reader!

Previous Chapter:

Next Chapter:

Chapter One:

Disclaimer: Chapter involves neglect, mild panic attack, violence, injuries, and curse words. If you're sensitive to that stuff, scroll past and stay safe! <3

The gusty air chilled my skin. It’s quite windy today, isn’t it?

Twenty more steps.

It’s Monday now, starting the week with school as usual. Getting to see everyone. Including… Jaiden. Just like last week. All over again.

Ten more steps.

I don’t know what I did. If they’re okay. If they’re mad. I ignored my phone the whole weekend after seeing Jaiden at that party. They could’ve just told me or rescheduled or something. Why lie? What gives? 

Five more steps.

I covered my eyes, shielding them from the light reflecting off of cars. Maybe Jaiden didn’t lie. Maybe there really was something important at first and then they went to a party later? But then again, they could’ve still told me anyway. But then again, maybe they figured I’d be busy by then. Yeah, that could be it. 

Three.

Well, I’ll never know if I don’t ask. I’ll just ask. I’ll go up to them and say “Hey, I saw you went to a party after telling me we can’t hang out. Did something happen?” And I’m sure I’ll get a reasonable answer. It can’t go that wrong. 

Two.

It’s getting kinda hard to breathe. Why? The air’s fantastic today. Are my lungs okay?

One. 

One more step. 

It’s one more step. Just turn the corner and there it is. It’s Monday, I need to go to school. I need to do my work. I need to talk to Jaiden. I’m so close. Why aren’t my stupid feet moving?

I caught myself taking deeper breaths, my chest suffocated. My legs went numb. The building’s right there, why did I have to get all weird right now? What’s even happening? Why does my head feel mushy? My breathing got more rushed, more audible, more desperate. What is with me, why can’t I just… panic attack? Panic attack! That’s what’s happening! Again.

Now knowing my condition, I leaned against the wall and attempted to relax. Breathe more manually. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Once. Twice. Three times. My body relaxed soon after.

Of course, I just had to have a panic attack a literal step away from school. I should’ve known this would happen. I’ve been getting them nonstop all weekend every time I even thought about seeing Jaiden. Should I call someone? The only other person I could call if I wanted to make it to school today is Zane, and that’s sure as hell not happening. I don’t want him to feel responsible for whatever’s going on between me and Jaiden, he probably has no idea it’s happening, anyway!

I could skip the day. It might honestly be better since I doubt I’ll even be able to focus, anyway. But at the same time, being alone in a state like this wouldn’t be the best option for me. The more alone I am, the more time I have. The more time I have, the more thinking I do. The more thinking I do, the more I’ll be reminded of Jaiden hence defeating the entire point. I searched through my contacts. I’ve got friends outside of Jaiden and Zane now, so maybe I could hang out with someone and get my mind off things. I’ll text in the group chat to see if anyone’s free.

But…

My hands stayed in place holding my phone. 

What if they get mad? 

I already tagged along with Mikey and Leo just the other day. If I ask again, what if they’ll just get annoyed? I was being too clingy with Jaiden and that’s probably what lead to this situation in the first place. Ugh, I knew pestering them wasn’t a good idea. I just… whatever, just don’t repeat mistakes. I don’t want any of them to be upset with me. But, if I can’t call the guys, who else do I have?

My eyes strained at the tiny bright screen. Only one person left: April. We haven’t gone out in a while, for months actually. Maybe she’d be down? It’s worth a shot.

Breathe in, press the button. It’ll be okay.

After a few rings, a voice picked up gleefully singing my name.

“Salena!~ How are ya? It’s been so long, I thought you forgot about me.”

I laughed “Ah yes, me forget the April O’Neil, as if that’s such a simple task! I just got a little busy, is all. I know they say junior year’s supposed to be the soul-draining year of death and misery, but tenth grade’s not that great either to be honest.”

“That why you called? Is high school kicking your ass that badly? You know I’m always here to help.”

I shook my head as if she was in front of me. “No, don’t worry! I’m actually doing great grades-wise, plenty thanks to you of course!”

Last year, when I was a new student fresh into high school, I was flunking tests and falling behind on assignments. Not because I couldn’t understand the material, that wasn’t the hard part, it was more just struggling with motivation and time management. A lot was going on in my personal life during my middle school years and I got so used to getting off the hook for that, I ended up having a hard time taking things seriously again in high school even though I wanted to. 

So I asked our counselor if there was anything I could do to fix it and she suggested the new tutoring program they had set up. April was the senior I was assigned to. She was such a fantastic tutor that my grades shot back up after just a few sessions! And as a person, well, she’s even cooler! Being around her just energized me a lot, enough to do my assignments and even pick up some side projects for fun. It was just something about her spunky and bold personality that felt too contagious to resist. Somehow, this super amazing badass senior ended up taking enough of a liking to me that after she graduated, she asked to exchange numbers and we actually hung out sometimes over the summer. She’s been a bit busier since college, though, and I didn’t want to bother her so our talks turned more into light texts every now and then.

One thing I’ll always appreciate, though. She checked in on me during the whole Krangpocalypse and made sure I was okay. She was the only person who did. The only person who cared.

“A-actually, April? I’m having a bit of a rough time with the uh… social aspect of high school.”

“Oh boy. Talk to me.”

“Oh uh, I…” Should I really talk about Jaiden behind their back? “I mean it’s not that bad, I’m sure it’ll be fine tomorrow. It’s only a little quarrel between me and a friend. I just…” I dragged my hand away from my mouth after realizing I was biting my nails. “I don’t think I can go today. I mean, I tried! I’m literally right outside school but-”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay! You’re going through a fight, I totally get it. Ugh. Darn, I don’t wanna leave you alone right now but…” she trailed off, clicking her tongue and sighing. “You know what? Whatever, we can hang. I’ve got some investigation work but you can join in. We need some adventure in ya, anyway!”

“R-really!?”

“Give me a few, I’ll come pick you up.” Beep!

Well, that went better than I thought.

After a while, April arrived in a cute, shiny yellow car. I’ve never it seen before. It didn’t look very fancy or expensive but it had a sort of comfy and almost familiar vibe to it. 

“I didn’t know you had a car!” I threw my bag in the passenger seat and sat down on the one next to her. 

“It’s cool, isn’t it? I got my driver’s license a few months ago and Mom surprised me with this! Comes in real handy for long-distance work. Speaking of, you okay with going out of city for this? I’m driving you home, too, obviously.” I nodded. “Still living with your aunt right?” 

“Yep, same place as always.” 

“Is she… any different?”

I hesitantly shook my head. “But never mind that. What exactly are we doing on this mission?”

“Glad ya asked. We are infiltrating an abandoned mineshaft near the city that I suspect is actually a front for the government to hide their new secret lab for making these super-toxic biochemical herbicides. Assuming it even is that.” 

She tampered with her car buttons and displayed… a hologram? Why would a car like this have a hologram?

I suppose my confusion was blatantly on my face since April quickly explained “My friend added that feature. The car didn’t come with it, obviously.”

“Obviously. Must be a very talented friend.”

She laughed “Oh yeah, he’s real talented. And real big-headed about it. But anywho, while I first thought this was just some sorta deforestation plan commissioned by another rich hotshot, I’m having my doubts on that.” The hologram displayed a vial with glowing blue liquid in it as April continued. “This glowy blue thingy was the only thing that could hurt those alien freaks a few months ago.”

The Krang? “Hurt? Aren’t those guys like, scary tough, why would a simple herbicide hurt them? I could throw as many knives as I wanted and they’d still be barely affected.” And I know this because I literally did.

“Exactly! Why on Earth would a simple herbicide do that much damage? Some are pretty dangerous but this was on another level, I dissolved an alien eye with it! Whatever it is, it’s something dangerous. We’ve gotta break in and figure out what’s going on or at least get another lead.”

I stared out the window as she continued driving. I’ve helped April with her work before, she’s got a lot on her plate so I’m always more than happy to lend a hand. But I’ve never actually gone on a field mission with her before. My specialty was more in the research end of things. Nevertheless! I’m excited! A little nervous but it’ll probably be fine. I mean, I’ve survived against pig mutants and rabid shrew Yōkai, how worse can it get?

We arrived at our destination three hours later. I hopped out the car and April opened the trunk, getting out a fiery lime-green bat and handing me a spare metal one. “The place is supposed to be empty so I doubt we’ll need any weapons but just in case.” Honestly, judging from how crazy things have been lately, I wouldn’t be surprised if these actually did come in handy somehow.

I followed April down the quarry, stopping outside the mineshaft’s entrance. Oh, it looked abandoned, all right. The scratched off paint, rusty metal gate, it looked like no one’s been here for years!

“Damn dude, how’d you even find out about this?”

“My university used to be their old lab before a certain someone broke in and stole a bunch of their stuff.” She winked, making it very clear who that someone was. “After months of digging and chasing leads, I finally tracked this creepy rodeo down! And then found out all I really had to do was just look at the name.” She tilted my chin to look up at the sign above the mineshaft. 

I squinted past the dirt and rust and read the words out loud. “Elemental Preservation Facility?”

“And what are the initials?” 

“E.P.F. …Wait, E.P.F! You mean like-” 

“Mhm! The government’s Earth Protection Force. It’s stupidly obvious when you think about it, must’ve been some sort of reverse psychology ploy.” Oof. If I were her, I’d be more annoyed at that. “It did start as an actual mineshaft but never got any good results so the government officially shut it down. But they never actually restored it like they usually would. Any other useless old mineshaft always gets restored.”

“If that’s the case then there’s definitely something valuable hidden in there. But… how do we get in?”

Before I could even start thinking of ideas, I flinched at the sound of April taking action… 

“APRIL O’NEIL!” She swung her bat at the gate, taking it down the moment it made contact. I stood there with my jaw dropped at the pure power in her hit. Who needs plans when you’ve got an O’Neil, I suppose!

The mineshaft ended up being a long, dark tunnel of neverending nothingness for a while, filling my head with the occasional doubt if we’d ever even find anything here. After what felt like decades, we finally hit an end. The flashlight from April’s phone began getting overpowered by a different light source, one right ahead of us. A room guarded by two large doors, bright green light shining through the crack. They looked a little out of place for an abandoned mineshaft. These doors were clean, solid, new. There’s a security keypad on the side, technology that definitely doesn’t belong here.

“You don’t by any chance know what the passcode for this place is, do you?”

“Don’t need to.” She broke the damn door again. Facing me, she proudly showcased her bat to my intrigued yet terrified expression. “This bad boy can break down anything I want it to!”

“Hey, April?...” My eyes trailed past her to the strange room behind the broken door. “Did the old lab at your university look like this, too?”

The enormous, round room captivated my attention, vibrant green glow emitting from a dozen pods in the wall. They weren’t empty. There were… things inside. Creatures? Beings? They were curled up presumably asleep floating in the goo, it looked straight out of a sci-fi film. I tried taking a closer look at one of them, immediately stepping back and fucking off when I got greeted with its open eye. 

“Yeesh this place looks like a weird mix between an illegal drug lab and a secret military bunker. A-are those explosives?”

“Yep. Timed explosives.” she snapped a bunch of pictures on her phone. “Look at that, they’ve got guns, too. Bet a nickel whoever built this place shoved forks in outlets as a kid.” 

We wandered around a bit more trying to make sense of what this place could be. The blue not-herbicide was nowhere to be found but honestly, I have a funny feeling this is way worse. There were a few pieces of paper sprawled around on the ground. Picking them up, I called April over. 

“April, check this out! There’s writing on it… I think?” 

“Uh, looks more like a bunch of random scribbles to me.” 

“Yeah, but look at this.” I pointed to some repeating lines in the text “It has some level of consistency. Could be encrypted text or maybe even a different language that doesn’t exist in the public domain. I’ve dabbled a bit in the conlang community before, making a new language and writing system is more common than you’d think. Not a huge stretch for a government agency to do that.”

“Welp, it’s the only physical evidence we’ve got so it’ll have to do!” She put the papers in her backpack and zipped it shut. “Besides, Donnie might be able to decipher this stuff.”

Donnie? “Huh, what a coincidence! One of my new friends is also a huge nerd named Donnie. I bet he could help, too!” 

April narrowed her eyes and raised a brow “Wait, really?” 

“What? Did I say something?”

Wait… What was that!? My spine tingled as I spun around frantically, trying to find the source of my uneasiness.

“What!? What’s wrong!?”

“I-I don’t know I just… I feel like someone’s watching us.” 

She gasped “Look out!”

I got pushed to the side watching April swing her bat and send the large cat flying back into the wall. We jumped to the sound of hissing and growling, coming from a small pack of them surrounding us. Their striped coats resembled tabby cats but their sizes were way off. Tabby cats were tiny compared to these guys, they looked more like a small puma’s size!

“Woah!” I dodged to the side avoiding another pounce “What are these things!? They’re huge!”

“I don’t know!” She grunted, swinging the cat away “Whatever they are, they’re attacking us so we’ve gotta move!”

April grabbed my hand and we rushed to get to the other side of the room, taking the lead so she could block any attacks at us. My mind ran a mile a minute trying to make any sense of this while also not dying at the hands of a monster cat. Danger aside, I admired how well April used her bat. She strikes with pure confidence, moving with her bat as if they were one entity. I might be imagining things, but sometimes the bat feels alive, a friend to April more than a weapon. 

The tabbies stopped chasing us once we were out of that room and back in the mineshaft. They stared us down, hissing as if to say “Stay out!” 

April looked back, sighed, and began walking towards the mineshaft’s exit. That was until I tugged her arm to stop her.

“Salena?” She looked confused. I kept staring. “What is it?”

“Um, I know this might sound like a stretch but…” I ignored the pesky voice telling me I was insane and instead went with my gut “I think whatever creatures attacked us are related to the ones in the pods. It just doesn’t feel like they’re normal cats. The E.P.F. is up to something and I don’t think it’s good.”

She seemed conflicted, the corners of her mouth turned down “It’s not a stretch. With what just happened, I think you’re on to something. Oh boy, this is worse than I thought it’d be.”

“...We should destroy it.” 

“What?”

“The lab. We don’t have any leads other than some pictures and funky text. That’s not even close to enough to figure out what’s going on and what the E.P.F. is planning to do with all of this.” I met her eyes, a worried look flashed across them. “They’ve got explosives, don’t they? We need to destroy that lab and at least hinder their progress to buy us more time.”

“Oh no no no no, hell no! You are not going back in there. I wouldn’t have even brought you here if I knew we’d be dealing with a bunch of supersized freaks!”

“And they’ve got more of those freaks inside! Who knows what they’re doing to those animals to make them so unnaturally aggressive! April, if we leave now we’re letting things continue. If we destroy the place… if we kill them we’re at least saving them from being government guinea pigs.”

“Look, I’ll come back here later and figure something out but not with you. Right now, you and I are getting out of here and I’m driving you home.”

I know she’s right. This is dangerous. Those cats had claws and teeth large enough to kill with ease, one wrong move and it’s over. But they’re still innocent animals. Living beings. They’re being toyed with and turned into monsters. I can’t just let whatever ‘mad scientist bullshit’ this is go on. Even if she comes back, what if it’s too late by then?

“April…” I backed up, gripped the metal bat, and ran back to the lab “Wait for me in the car!”

“Wha- SALENA NO!” 

Sorry April. 

Running through the tunnel, I built up speed, zigzagging past the big cats before they could stop me. Now back in the room, I made my way to the explosives and shoveled a bunch between my body and arm. With April gone, I had to frequently strike at the leaping felines and defend myself. The metal bat doesn’t seem as powerful as April’s, neither are my hits. But whatever, they’re getting the job done. I ran along the walls, placing an explosive on each of the twelve pods. That strangely doubled as a distraction for some of the cats since they started clawing at the explosives. I looked at the timer on them.

Ten minutes. I can make it. 

Unfortunately, this time even after bolting out of the room, the giant cats kept tailing me, almost like they knew what I was doing. They hindered my progress a little, having to both stick the last of the explosives on the mineshaft walls and attack the cats till I get open space to escape. But that didn’t matter, I had to get out of here. 

Only five minutes left. If there was ever a time to sprint it’d be now.

“Huh? AH!!!” A fluffy fucker slipped past my radar and leaped on me, both of us crashing into the rocky wall from impact. My bat wasn’t in my hand anymore, it fell too far from my reach.

So there I was pinned down screaming in pain as the only thing between me and a very graphic death was my poor left arm acting as a shield getting torn into by its teeth. My head was throbbing, my forehead felt slightly warm and wet. Panicked, breathless, and thinking it was the end, I closed my eyes praying the whole place just blew up before I got mauled alive. 

“APRIL O’NEIL!!!” I heard the cat yowl as she thrashed it off me, pulling me up and dragging me out. “Come on!”

We dashed through the exit, up the quarry, and dove behind April’s car, far enough to not die from the explosion. I covered my ears to the earth-shattering sound. 

I looked up to see April holding me tight, almost cradling me. Even despite all the jitters from the last however-long-it’s-been, her protective grip still managed to calm me down, if only a little.

 

The world went silent. We peeked from behind the car to the now blocked-off entrance. 

“We… We did it. WE DID IT!” I got up, wincing as my head felt a little wobbly and nauseous but it was probably from the intense action just now. 

“We sure did! Man, I am gonna lay in bed for the next week after this. You ready to head home?”

“Ye-”

“Don’t answer that, we’re leaving either way.” Her eyes shifted to the side of my forehead, slowly widening “Hey, are you bleeding?” 

“Am I?” I touched my temple and blinked at my red fingers. I must’ve hit a rock or something? 

“…Come on, we gotta get you some medical attention.” 

I tried taking a step to follow her but my legs felt shaky. Everything’s sideways now, am I on the ground? My vision’s blurry. Why is April calling my name?

Next Chapter