#||: Once it comes around I'll probably be radio silent for some time

[auntie-browning]

"♫ Ты хотел быть один, это быстро прошло Ты хотел быть один, но не смог быть один Твоя ноша легка, но немеет рука И ты встречаешь рассвет за игрой в "Дурака" ♫"

"♫ Доброе утро, последний герой Доброе утро тебе и таким, как ты Доброе утро, последний герой Здравствуй, последний герой ♫"

"♫ Утром ты стремишься скорее уйти Телефонный звонок как команда "вперёд" Ты уходишь туда, куда не хочешь идти Ты уходишь туда, но тебя там никто не ждёт ♫"

"♫ Доброе утро, последний герой Доброе утро тебе и таким, как ты Доброе утро, последний герой Здравствуй, последний герой ♫"

[dingo-ate-my-hot-lettuce-crazy]

Rearview - Chapter 1 - Fragments

Summary: You accept Cas' offer to stop by the party for a few, and you and his friend hit it off more than you expected to. Although, Cinderella has to leave abruptly, after someone wicked notice's your presence.

Pairings: Dean x Reader, Cas x Reader!Platonic, DeanxJo!FWB

Characters: Dean, Cas, Charlie, Jo, others

Word Count: 5.3K

Warnings: drugs/alcohol, cursing, anthropology hate-joke directed at cas (i dont hate anthropologists or people majoring in it I SWEAR), frat guy mention, probable inaccurate college major descriptions, cas slander (all jokes), jo the ho,

Author's Note: this is my first time ever writing a LONG ass series like this, so you can be brutal, i'll only cry

Song: OMG (feat. will.i.am) by USHER, will.i.am, Feel So Close by Calvin Harris, The Weekend by Michael Gray, any 2000's-2010's radio hits work

Series Masterlist - Chapter 2

You didn’t even need to know the apartment number, all five of your senses are activated when you hit the floor it’s on. You wonder how the neighbors allow it, or if they are at the party as well. Finding the source of the overstimulation, you twist the knob and step into the room with caution. You almost have to squint through the haze of tacky multi-colored lights bouncing from one corner to the next, and the slight fog of something you were sure was not just tobacco. 

Great, my hair will smell for a week after tonight.

You’re no stranger to marijuana or even a couple of pills, but the fun died when it was a catalyst for this past summer's events- part of the reason you moved in with Jo and Charlie. Addiction wasn't a problem for you, though. The fear keeps any desire at bay. You've made a silent vow to never do any of that again. But for now, drinking is on the table. Funny- because that's often where you end up while having a few.

Basic radio-play from the 2000s blasted through synchronized speakers in each room, bass overpowering most of the lyrics and other elements. You take a surprised notice at just how many people are able to squeeze into this apartment space. Granted, it's bigger and has a slightly more open layout than the one you're sharing with the girls now, but even so, you're sure there are over fifty people here. You respectfully squeeze by some of the groups lingering by the front rooms, apologizing if heads are turned to you trying to maneuver around them. From the entrance was the kitchen and living space, where your eyes found Cas', thankfully. He was listening to a couple of other guys fraternize, or chuckle that frat-guy-chuckle, or just exuberate that frat energy, as they continue to frat.

 Okay, I need to relax- I can't be tired of everyone yet.

Cas' absent-minded nodding towards the guys transforms into a pleased smile as he meets your gaze. He stands up a bit straighter, beckoning you over with the flex of his fingers. A mix of a grin and smirk rests on your face, at Cas' welcoming reaction. He steps aside from the disfigured circle to give you a quick hug, saying your name, "I didn't think you were coming."

You shrug, as he lets go of you, both of you still grinning a bit, "I don't like to be predictable."

Cas scoffs with platonic affection- you’re glad to see him let loose some. He had been overly concerned with you since helping you move out. It only tacked onto your list of things to feel guilty about; abruptly moving into your friends' apartment, the emotional tolls of friends after the events of this summer. This guilt shit is starting to be a buzzkill. You push it to the back of your mind and try to keep the small smile plastered as Cas turns his body to one of the members of the outer social circle. Cas waves his hand, getting his friend's attention. You inwardly raise an eyebrow, trying to look at this guy's features with this awkward lighting in the kitchen, as he nods his head once to Cas in acknowledgment. He steps over to us with a red solo cup in hand, eyebrows raised, as he claps Cas on the back lightly. "What's up?"

Oh, interesting.

If you have to guess, he is most likely your age or slightly older. He carries a natural confidence, maybe too confident. Maybe slightly cocky, but it works for him. He can get away with it. His dirty blond hair frames the top half of his face. Very Prince Charming. 

Cas points to you, as he speaks to his buddy, "This is," he says your name, "You remember that I said I was inviting her?"

His green eyes are captivating and full of life as he directs his gaze to you. His face brightened at your mention, which felt like a crime the way it flustered you. His lightly freckled face and symmetrical features almost distract you from his voice laced with charm. You know he is talking to you but it just goes in one ear and out the other as you find your way to the present again. "Dean-" He extends a hand which you gladly take and match his grip. At least I didn’t miss the important part.

"Nice to meet you, Dean." You smile, and for once it seems to come naturally. "I take it you go to school here, too?"

"I do, yeah," He dips his head. "I'll be graduating this year."

"That's great! What's your major?"

"Automotive Engineering."

Dean replies with a precise inflection, almost like he regrets it. 

You nod, slightly impressed, "Oh wow, so like mechanics and such?"

Dean raises his lips into a wider smile, expecting to have to explain, "Short answer, yes, and long answer is that there's a focus on fixing and improving cars, but there's design work, as well. It's a lot of electrical and mechanical work tossed into one. Lots of computer work."

You dare take in every word he says like it is holy, because it sure sounds it coming from that mouth.

Woah, chill.

"Well, at least it's not Anthropology."

Maybe if you poke fun at Cas, he won't hear your thoughts. Dean gives a quick huff of laughter, eyes widening as he's taken aback by surprise at your immediate play toward Cas. He looks to Cas, who is blinking for a comical beat, and then turns his head to you with a tight-lipped smile. "I don't understand your gripe with my major."

"Explain your major to me." You prompt knowingly.

Cas huffs, knowing where this is headed but elaborates anyway, "Anthropology has to deal with observing humanity and trying to understand humans from a sociocultural standpoint."

I look to Dean with conviction, "He wants to professionally people-watch."

Dean turns the corner of his lips down in thought, leaning to Cas, "She's gotta bit of a point there, bud."

Cas incredulously darts his eyes between you and Dean, mouth partially agape as he searches for a defense that they can't use against him. He comes up empty before swiveling his body towards you, "You don't have a drink yet?" Then to Dean, "She doesn't have a drink yet," He backs away from them, slowly ducking from the conversation, "I'll go get you a drink."

You smirk, eyes moving to the floor, burning a hole in it because if you look at Dean you think you might embarrass yourself. Alas, you lift your head anyway, conversation bouncing right back in its place as Dean points his solo cup to you, "You didn't say what your major was."

"You didn't ask." You cock your head slightly, in playful accusation.

He purses his lips playfully, licking them before he drawls, "What's your major, sweetheart."

You shudder internally, desperately remaining collected. "Education with a focus on English. I'm working on becoming a high school teacher."

He hesitates, running his teeth over his lips- I should probably stop looking at his lips. "Didn't think I'd see a teacher at a party."

You narrow your eyes with fake offense, "What's that supposed to mean?"

The same stupid smile he won't wipe off seems to only get brighter the more you talk to him, he shakes his head, "I mean, a future teacher in an apartment full of alcohol and kids doing God-knows-what. Seems a little..."

"Oxymoronic?" You finish for him.

Dean searches your face, and you swear you can see the gears turning in his head at the word. "I think so."

You actually let out a laugh at that, not faking anything, it just springs out from your stomach.

"So. Why do you want to teach a bunch of hormonal teens?" Dean queried, intrigued.

"The salary, obviously." You deadpan.

Dean hums, leaning back on his feet, "Right. Like how I chose automotive engineering for the easy classes."

"Not because you would get a bunch of girls?"

His smile widens, almost upset that he didn’t come up with that first, "I like the way you think."

You flash your eyes up with a devilish innocence, a smirk unraveling on your face.

He shakes his head, his grin softening into something deeper, "No, really. What makes you wanna be a teacher?"

You let the silence stretch for a beat, gathering your thoughts like fragile threads, piecing them together.

"Believe it or not, I hated school. Always did. I was a good student...well-behaved, for the most part. But, I did the absolute bare minimum. I just was never engaged in anything, and I was just bored out of my skull. My parents would tell me that everyone hates it, and to get used to it, but...I was so miserable. In high school, my parents divorced and so, I was just utterly checked out. I stopped trying, and none of my teachers did all that much."

You pause, a soft grin opening on your face, "Except my sophomore year English teacher. One day, after class, he asked me to stay behind. And, of course, I was ready for the same, droning speech that I had heard about fifteen other times from every other teacher about missing assignments or failing grades, but instead... he asked about what music I listened to, what movies I watched, and what I did outside of school. And, God, we were talking for like an hour after class ended, and... I don't know. I just felt like he really listened. The next class, he started connecting the books we read to the things we'd talked about. If we were studying a novel, he’d bring up a character or a theme he knew I’d relate to. If there was an essay, he’d tell me to write about something I was passionate about. He didn't put these restraints on learning, and he taught us, not what he had to learn but what we wanted to. It made the whole damn class realize that we loved to learn...we just didn't like school. I guess... I want to be that. I want to connect with students the way he did with me, otherwise, I'd probably be a dropout by now."

Dean's gaze flickered with a sense of awe, and you just realized how long you must've rambled for.

Your brows draw together with self-consciousness. "Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No, no..." Dean softly interrupted, "People don't always choose the route they're passionate about. It's nice to see a change in pace, y'know?"

You cock your head, an innocent deduction vocalizing itself before you have the chance to filter it, “You’re not passionate about your major.”

He flashes his eyebrows up, his mouth opening, but no sound comes out. He lets out a huff of air that forms a smirk, “I am. I like my major, but, uh, sometimes I feel like I have other callings. I just grew up around cars, so I figured I wouldn’t be wasting my time.” He shrugs in resignation.

“Why not pursue your other callings?”

“My dad owns a mechanics shop, well… the building anyway. When I was four, uh- my dad had to take care of me and my little brother, so we shut down. He wants me to get it back up and running again. He's basically guaranteeing that he's giving it to me after I graduate.”

“But you don’t necessarily want it?” You coax out of him, tilting your head empathically.

He huffs again, shaking his head, “It’s more of an obligation. He…” Dean bites his cheek for a moment, wondering if he’s sharing too much but opts to continue anyway, he found it easy to share with you, “He gave it up for me. And my brother. And, I want to do this for him. I owe it to him.”

You nod, a brief, almost imperceptible nod, as you drown in his gaze and his genuine talk. For once, it wasn’t just something shallow, but it certainly makes you wonder about his family life. 

“And your mom? What does she do for work?” You query.

Dean swallows and licks his lips. Time heals all wounds apparently, but still, it’s not an easy thing to talk about, nonetheless know what kind of reaction to expect every time. 

Cas comes back- thank whoever- with three solo cups, about halfway full, with what looks like punch, which you assume is spiked. Dean tosses his old cup away, and thanks Cas as he reaches for the new one. Cas reads you as he passes you your own.

“D’you get lost over there, Cas?” You play at him, and he barely even looks at you as he brings the cup in your hands to your mouth and essentially forces you to take a sip or two. It makes you smile a bit, and you can see Cas trying to fight his own mouth from doing the same.

"So how do you guys know each other?" You beg the question, taking a sip of the punch with your own free will this time.

Cas lets out a light chuckle, "Freshman year, I took my Continental to Singer's Auto-"

You gasp adoringly, "Oh, Betty..."

"Betty?" Dean practically grimaces.

"Cas' car." You answer lovingly.

Dean snickers at Cas, "You named your car Betty?"

Cas glowers defensively, "I didn't, she did."

"You name your cars too?" Dean's face lights up to you.

"I do." 

Cas clears his throat, continuing, "I took my Continental-"

"Betty," Dean mockingly coos, tilting his head to the side the same way you did.

Unimpressed, Cas glares at Dean, "...to Singer's Auto while Dean was under an apprenticeship. The following week, he had been a customer at Silver & Flames, and I served him, which I thought was a humorous coincidence. Then we were in the same aisle at the library somehow two days after. I figured he was obsessed with me after our first interaction, so I introduced myself." Cas is evidently proud of that little spin at the end.

Dean sarcastically frowns, "You left out the part where you asked me to dinner."

Cas sighs with faux anger, "Beers and Doritos at my dorm after a football game is not a dinner."

Dean turns his head to you, winking, "He was totally trying to take advantage of me."

You giggle, enjoying their banter.

Out of nowhere, your name is squealed from somewhere nearby, and before you can gauge where it came from, it comes close to knocking you to the ground as it envelopes you in a hug from behind. "You came!"

"Hey, Charlie-" You grunt, concern and amusement mixing in your compromised vocal cords at her squeezing. "Having a good time?"

She's still attached to you, as she bubbles, "Yes! My D&D group finally found a time to meet up in person this time because this year a lot of our classes are actually pretty synched up on the times- Woohoo! And, with our new campaign, we're testing out a new theme which is gonna be sooo exciting- oh, and these drinks? Totally reminds me of the saloon-type things that we role-play with too, especially for my character that I made-"

You interrupt her, "What did you have to drink, babe?"

Charlie lets go, holding onto your shoulder still, evidently buzzing, "Like two or three somethings- I don't know but th'punch is great!"

Your eyes widen as you look from your punch cup to Dean, and you quickly dump the rest of it into the sink that's about two feet to your right. And Dean's standing there, desperately trying to wipe his concealed laugh off with his hand as he holds it to his mouth, turning his head slightly so he doesn't falter.

Cas just puzzles at all of the new lingo from Charlie while watching the interaction from the outside, but he isn't safe for very long. "Charlie, you remember Cas, right?" You point to him.

Charlie drunkenly squints her eyes a bit, and exaggeratingly gasps, "Oh yeah, Casss!" She moves over a bit to attack him with a hug.

His posture sways, as he takes a step back to balance himself, taken aback by her physical affection, but nonetheless, he awkwardly pats her back. She was off him as fast as she jumped him.

"I r'member you from this summer. It was so cool when you were all Terminator when Nick came banging on her door," Charlie points to you, "and you jus' stood there like a brick wall with the meanest little Cas face-"

You freeze, eyes blown wide and inhaling sharply at the unexpected reference to Nick, pulling Charlie back gently so she wouldn't fall, failing to ignore Dean's slightly furrowed brows at the story, "Woah- ha, Charlie, I think they're playing Kingdom Hearts in the living room!" You divert her attention, pointing elsewhere.

Charlie's face lights up at the mention, "They're playing Kingdom Hearts? Oh my god- I gotta go!" She cheers, and practically stumbles away to go towards the living room.

You glance at Cas, who glances at you, unsure of what to say at Charlie's uncensored blabber. Luckily, Dean speaks up first, mostly unaware, "She seems fun."

You let out a bit of an embarrassed chuckle, "God love her, she's my best friend."

Cas searches the room for her, piping up, "I'm going to make sure she stays away from the punch."

Dean fixes his gaze on you, "She an avid partier?"

"No. Not at all- I think she's just...indulging." You reason.

"And you?"

"And I, what?"

He flashes his teeth, "Are you an avid partier? Or, just indulging."

You take a breath, leaning your arm against your body, your empty cup sits at your lower thigh, as you find the right words, "I'm not here to get crazy. Cas, Charlie, and my other roommate Jo...they were begging me to not recluse this year."

Dean's eyebrows lower, his pretty eyes concentrated, "Jo Harvelle?"

You nod once, "Yeah, you know her?"

He pauses, rubbing his jawline, before conceding with a flustered grin, "Yeah, I've met her a few times."

It takes you a moment to let that sink in, by what he meant by that.

Oh.

Oh.

Fuck.

Of course. Of course, they knew each other. Who did Jo not "know" by now.

It doesn't matter, why would it? You just met him, and you aren't looking for anything. Right?

Right.

Except it only matters a little, because you just gave him half of your life story and you kind of want to give him the rest of it.

You do your best to conceal the slight bitterness at the idea, unsure of what to say. "Oh, okay."

He smirks, unable to read you, "What?"

You lift your shoulders slightly, "Nothing, I've just never seen you walk of shame out of our apartment." You snort, unable to help yourself. But, it is true. You don't recall ever seeing him, and you would frequently hang out at Jo and Charlie's place before you moved in. You would remember a face like that.

He isn't fazed by the hostility of the comment, just a bit curious, "And...you've seen a lot of guys in there come and go?"

Well, shit. You didn't want to gossip. You bring a hand to your neck, guiltily leaving him unanswered, which was an answer in itself. You blow out an exhale, staying neutral, "It's not my business. I just live there."

"Right, right." He understands what it means.

The beat of awkward silence was somehow louder than the blaring music still playing. You dip your head for a moment, glancing around the room before gesturing to the living room. "I'm gonna check on the girls real quick, make sure Charlie isn't flat on her face or anything."

Dean looks like he doesn't know how to recover either, "Yeah, sure- uh, I'll be here."

You excuse yourself, and peer around the visible corners of the joint, scouting for the girls. A couple steps further in you see Charlie having the time of her life, controller in hand with a swarm of people cheering her on at Mario Kart. You smile to yourself, and search the room for Jo, ambling towards a couple of smaller groups of people, to find that she's in the corner, seductively leaning her back against a door frame as she talks to two guys who seem very interested in whatever she has to say. They respond eagerly it seems, and she bats her eyes as she dunks her cherry into her coke and wraps her lips around it.

She's just fine.

Walking back to the kitchen area, your eyes fall on someone making direct eye contact with you. It takes you a moment, as you halt in your footsteps, and your stomach does a flip.

It was one of Nick's friends- Chuck.

Chuck was a solid piece of shit. Anytime Nick had his cult over, most of them would pretend you weren't there, but a few, Chuck included, would hit on you even if it was in front of Nick. He would make you deeply uncomfortable, squirming on the couch trying to get away from him as he laughed, or the others did. And Nick never really did much to stop it, or would blame you for it if he did say anything. "Shouldn'ta been wearin' a skirt then."

Chuck leans over to some other guys he was with, keeping his cold eyes locked on you as he grabs their attention.

Your blood runs cold, darting away quickly, you weave through the crowd as your heart starts to pound in your chest. You knew this was a bad idea, you knew you could never really escape this- God, how foolish you were. The front door only seems to get further and further away, as your breathing picks up. Your hand slips on the knob before being able to press down and rush out. All you can do is just start to walk back home. You turn your head behind you, checking for anyone that follows, and you start to tell yourself to relax, as the door remains shut.

You shake in the elevator, wringing your hands as you try to calm yourself. The light flashes red as the door opens as you hover close to the exit, and he's right there.

Nick.

Your hand flies to your chest, snapping your eyelids shut momentarily.

"I'm so sorry, Miss- didn't mean to scare you!" The middle-aged gentleman in a white dress shirt and black slacks apologizes as he takes a cautious step into the elevator.

"Oh, my mistake. You're alright..." You timidly bow your head after blinking Nick away, leaving the elevator with the somewhat confused man, bracing a hand on the door as you attempt to make your way to the street.

The wind nips at your face, not sharp enough to be uncomfortable but enough to ground you. You keep up the fast-paced strides back home, appreciating the closeness in proximity it was from Cas' complex.

THE PARTY

Oblivious, Cas returns out from the restroom at the party still, double-taking at the sudden line that has formed outside of it. He peers around the room, finding Dean. He's wallflowering by the kitchen, swirling his cup before he lifts his head up to see Cas as he walks back over to him, looking around. "Where is she?"

Dean's eyebrows raise, his lips jut out as he glances around, "She said she was checking on the girls."

Cas' face falls slightly, "I didn't see her around."

High-heeled combat boots clunk over to the two, making their heads turn to Jo, a bit of a curious look on her face.

"Hey, Cas. Where's, uh," Jo says your name.

"I have no idea, she said she was looking for you and Charlie." Cas shrugs, still searching for her, even going to lengths to stand on the balls of his feet to look over the crowd.

"Oh, okay." She doesn't give it much attention. "Maybe I'll see you later, Dean?"

Dean tilts his head to Jo, his face subtly pinched, "Uh, yeah... later, I guess."

She tries the "hate to see 'em leave, love to watch ‘em walk away" exit, but Dean's a little less focused on her. He directs himself back to Cas rather easily and watches him pull out his phone. "Did she text you or somethin'?"

Cas sighs worriedly, "No. Not yet, I just texted her." He puts his ringer on and keeps his phone in his front jacket pocket. He narrows his eyes at Dean in a questioning manner, "Are you and Jo..."

He darts his eyes from one side of the room over to Cas, "Are we what?"

Cas pushes, "You know...benefiting from each other?"

"Oh, yeah. I guess," He relents, noncommittally. "Why?"

"Nothing. I just didn't know if you guys were planning to become anything more. She seems to have an interest in you…from that little pass a moment ago." Cas has always seen an extra gleam in Jo's eyes when she was standing next to Dean. She tries harder around him, he noticed. At social functions, she would act as if they were more than just their agreement. She would interlock an arm with him, and force a bit more of a romantic chemistry rather than just the sexual one. To be honest, Dean didn’t even really see much in her, but she was different from his ex. And he was satisfied with that. She made him forget for a while, which was all he really wanted from their situation.

"Nahh," He rasps. "I don't see it going anywhere. It's just a casual thing- and it’s mutual, so."

"Was merely wondering. I know it's been a while since Lisa, but-"

"Woah, dude- let's not." Dean holds his palm up, "This is a party, alright? We can talk women, but just... not past women."

"Right." Cas' lips tighten into a thin line. He unconsciously begins to look around for her again, and his eyes land on Chuck, who is discretely edging his way to the door. Now he understands why you disappeared. Damn it.

"I'll be back." He says to Dean, who has no time to answer as Cas stomps off.

Chuck's hand is on the knob and opens it about three inches before it slams shut in front of him. Cas towers above him, "Hey, man. Where’re you headed?"

Chuck snaps his head to Cas, shrugging with shifty eyes, “I was just heading out, I got somewhere to be, man.”

"Do you." Cas challenges.

"Yeah. I do." He tries again to open the door, but Cas doesn't budge.

"I'd be careful if I were you. You remember what I did to your friend." Cas threatens, glaring intensely. He knows he can't hold him here, but he can at least attempt to put the fear of God in him.

Chuck scoffs, but he doesn't quite come off as the tough shit he thinks he is, "I'm not fuckin' scared of you."

"That's your first mistake. If there's a second, it'll be too late for you." He warns, eyes staring daggers into Chuck's as he slides his hand off the door.

Chuck does his best to remain stoic, as he takes off with haste out of the door. Cas stands idle and pounds the frame faintly with anxious frustration. He whips out his cell, thumbing through his contacts for her. He clicks the call icon for her contact, bringing the phone to his ear. It rings four times before her voice picks up, “Hey-”

Cas says her name with an urgency, “Where are you?”

“Yeah, Cas, I’m sorry. I was just about to call or text, I’m home now. I was just starting to get a bit congested.” She sighs into the phone.

Cas breathes out an exhale of relief, “No, that’s…that’s perfectly fine. You showed up, didn’t you? All I asked for.” 

“Yeah…yeah, I mean, it was fun. Your friend’s nice.” 

“Yes, Dean is good company.” Cas nods into the phone, now reminded that he should go back to find him.

“Well, maybe we can meet up sometime this week after class? I feel bad for taking off early.” She amends.

He sighs, locating Dean by the kitchen still, holding his forearm out in confusion as he watches Cas walk back over to him, “That sounds great. Don’t feel bad, though. I’ll see you next week.”

She says a quick goodbye before Cas hangs up. Dean gives Cas a look, pressing him to explain, “What’s going on?”

“She, uh, had to go take care of something.” Cas frowns a bit.

“Oh, alright.” Dean seems to match Cas’ disappointment, adding. “She’s cute.”

Cas wears an amused grin, “You think she’s cute?”

Dean turns pink slightly, clearing his throat, “Well- I mean, ‘cute’ in like, a ‘college-girl’ kinda way. Like, a normal…way. Y’know, cute for a future-teacher-kinda-way…”

“I see.” Cas tries to contain his snigger.

A break of quiet between the boys breeds a bit of awkwardness before Dean pipes up “And you guys aren’t…benefiting or anything?”

Cas doesn’t hold back that time, a chuckle leaves his throat, “No, we aren’t. There’s no romantic inclination there either.” He thinks to himself for a moment. “I’ve grown rather protective over her, but I don’t view our relationship in that sense.”

Dean listens to Cas and brings the cup of punch to his lips. Mulling over his words, “Yeah, I gotcha.”

“That does entail that she’s single.”

Dean twists his face as he almost coughs the punch up, “Woah, man. I didn’t say anything about…”

Cas tilts his head, “I can tell you’re at least interested.”

Dean exhales, convincing himself that it’s nothing more than interest, “I mean, I hardly know her, Cas…”

“I can still tell when you’re interested in someone.” Cas remarks. 

Dean crosses his arms defensively, scoffing at his friend, “Whatever, man.”

“I am talking women with you, Dean-”

“Yes, you certainly are.” He takes a sip of his drink.

“But I’m not talking…you-know-who. So, I find this acceptable.”

“Is this some kind of social experiment for your major?”

Still ignoring his protests, Cas continues, “And I figure, I know you both rather well and I find that you are fairly compatible. You share some interests, and conversations seem to flow well, and you both have a similar, dry humor. And given two bumpy roads for romantic connections-”

“I take offense to that.”

“I’m sure you both would enjoy each other’s humble company, having some experience in relationships in general. And if nothing becomes of it, and you hate her, then I’ll take an F for my grade.”

Dean snaps an excited finger to Cas, “It is a social experiment!”

Cas gives him a pointed look, “I just want the two of you, as individuals, to forget about the past.”

“I get it, Cas. I do, I really do. But, you don’t throw shattered glass together and hope the cracks are fixed.”

“No. In fact, it’s how you create mosaics.” 

“Mosaics- the hell is that?” Dean blinks.

“A mosaic is made of small, fragmented glass or tile that creates a work of art when placed together."

“So, two broken halves make a whole, right?” Dean mockingly reiterates.

“Precisely.”

“We gotta get you away from Lifetime TV.”

Cas relents, shaking his head, “Just- don’t shut it down so fast. I know her, and… she could use someone like you, Dean. And, you could use someone like her. A lot of people could.”

Dean soaks in Cas’ words instead of joking again. He chews his lip for a moment, opening his mouth partially. Bringing the last of his drink to his mouth, he considers it. He really does.

A/N: Sorry if this is slow and dragged out slightly, im kind of just throwing this out to the wind- please let me know what you think!

[sirsovata]

Goodbye THSC!

Hi guys, I know I've said that this will just be a break and that I'll come back later but I'm very burned out still even though it's been over a month since A Very Sovatic Holiday Album. I've thought about this for a long time and I've decided that my time is better spent for real life priorities, so this will likely be a permanent leave. That being said, I still really respect all of you in the THSC community and artists who still pump out work just out of passion, you have a true drive for what you love and you should be proud of that. Thank you to those who have stuck around even during my bleak hiatuses as well.

I remember becoming interested in THSC again back in June 2024 and quickly got hooked into the community's AUs, the intricate storylines and characters, and the art. I've been making thsc artwork since then, but I've started sharing them publicly online since around August 2024 and the rest has been documented online through my account. It's been a nice adventure and nibble in the community, but I've had a bit too much. Does this mean I'll never post again? Probably, I might drop a sketch or update or two once in a while, but don't expect album level activity lol, never again. There will likely be a 1 year anniversary for the A Very Sovatic Holiday Album however later this year with a few artworks, after that I'll go radio silent again.

Thank you to: @nonomikun @flamingredanon @zerguette @coolguyontheblock  @wololo-01 and @teuran-k and all of you who have sticked around! I remember being so stooked seeing my first few posts gain ANY likes or followers and some of you here were the first ones to notice.

Good Night guys, see you sometime in the future. ❤️

[powderrblue]

i missed writing about hadlee heart hands emoji. ghost showfall employees woo

edit i was gonna write more of this but again. it probably wont ever happen this is so old

Hadlee threw her raincoat around her shoulders, fingers combing her long black hair out of the way.

"Honey, it's pouring outside, you'll catch your death," Beau tried once more.

"It's okay, I promise," Hadlee said as calmly as she could manage for the tears that threatened to choke her. "I'll be back and dry before you know it."

Beau's gaze didn't let up.

"Alright," she verbally relented after a few more seconds. Her arms were outstretched for a hug before Hadlee had a chance to look away.

"I don't- I don't need-"

Beau held her arms out still. "I'm the one who's asking."

Hadlee moved close. The older woman's arms were as grounding as ever as they wrapped around Hadlee.

No comment was made as Hadlee struggled to keep her breathing even. Still nothing when she hugged Beau as tightly as her shaking limbs let her.

"I'm sorry," was all Hadlee whispered.

"You did good, baby," Beau said in reply, shaking her head. "Don't be sorry."

"I shoulda listened-"

"There's nothing we could've done. For any of them."

Hadlee hugged Beau tighter. She knew full well the older woman was only talking about this for Hadlee's sake. She also knew Beau wouldn't drop it until she was satisfied with Hadlee's ability to talk herself out of the hole she was digging for herself.

That time was far from coming today.

"Can we stay home just for tonight?" Beau asked.

Hadlee shook her head.

One last resigned sigh from Beau marked the end of her attempt to steer Hadlee back to the house. "Alright. Don't be out too late. Call me if you need me. You know the drill."

The black-haired girl released herself from the hug with an affirmative nod.

Hadlee picked up the keys to her car, starting it and spending a few moments flipping through radio channels before turning it off entirely.

It had been a little over a year and a half since Showfall had been shut down. The mall was always silent now, like it had been before. The government had put in cameras once to make it look like something was being done to prevent Showfall's return.

Hadlee knew they wouldn't come back anyway. Once a location showed any signs of being found, they'd move on without leaving a trace.

The mall itself didn't take much of a drive to get to from Beau's house. Hadlee had only hesitated to go before due to the realization that Beau probably wouldn't view visiting it as a healthy coping mechanism.

Sometimes it still felt like yesterday when she'd sat on the curb, Paislie beside her, Randy and Henrik standing behind her, chaos surrounding her, all of them disoriented and unsure whether they were sharing a dream or worse.

Hadlee and Paislie had done nothing but sign to each other for days afterward.

The actors, Randy's quote unquote family, Paislie, and Hadlee herself were all separated multiple times in attempts to find a combination that would allow for a more permanent housing situation without anyone panicking after two minutes of being separated from each other. Between the constant questioning and legal settlements, it had been a long time in coming.

In the house Hadlee was at long last settled in, death seemed to come in waves. Henrik had been the first, then Paislie not long afterwards. Hardly five months later Maria was next, Randy following her the next morning.

Needless to say, the house got to feeling a lot bigger very quickly.

Ava had asked Hadlee if she was leaving too not long after everything had happened.

Hadlee hadn't answered.

The newly turned twenty-year-old refocused her eyes, waiting for that train of thought to leave, only to find herself standing at the door to the mall.

The cameras there had already gotten hit by rocks, probably because of some kids wanting to go in and see what they could find in that hellhole.

It was cold when Hadlee walked in. The mall usually wasn't warm anyway, even back when it was Showfall.

The sets from the most recent show were strewn around the lobby, signs of a struggle long since forgotten more than obvious.

The makeshift cabin's walls were torn, chipped, and otherwise mangled down to splintered wood. Blood was smeared across the floor.

Someone should've cleaned it, her subconscious whispered. No, she didn't work here anymore, everyone was gone. Things were different. For better or worse.

Hadlee couldn't help but wonder what would happen if she could do it all again. Maybe she could've saved more of them, maybe she could've stopped them from-

Wherever the rest of that probably-not-healthy thought process was going was put to a stop by a chill down Hadlee's back and the sudden feeling of being watched.

She shuddered at the cold, glancing around as quickly as she could without passing out. She only spared a second for a fleeting thought of her thicker jacket at home- or Beau's house, rather.

"Is someone there?"

Hadlee grit her teeth. She still sounded so scared and she hated it.

What felt like the pressure of a freezing hand left a shivery feeling right above her right elbow.

Hadlee frowned. The feeling of being watched was less intense now. Or maybe more? Something about it felt familiar.

She shook her head. Nothing she was thinking made any sense.

"Pey?" she finally called, giving up on trying to think of anything that would give her a more normal explanation.

Hadlee felt another not-really-a-touch against her arm.

Casting another look around the little bit of the mall that was visible, she sighed and let herself fall to her knees on the floor.

She shouldn't have left the house, she should've known something would happen. Probably none of this was real.

Hot tears streaked down Hadlee's face as the chill settled over her shoulders this time in what felt like a hug.

A whispered plea for it to stop was all she could muster.

The touch didn't go away.

Hadlee hadn't really wanted it to.

"Don't do this, just come back," Hadlee told the disembodied pressure against her shoulders.

She registered a light touch above her left elbow.

"I didn't know what to do," she told maybe-Paislie. "You warned me about Maria and I didn't see it in time, why couldn't you stay and do it?"

No answer.

Hadlee swiped at her tears to try to see, but to no avail.

The touch moved to Hadlee's face.

Rain continued to fall outside, barely audible from inside the mall.

"I need you," Hadlee said. She didn't know what this was even accomplishing anymore. "Everyone's leaving and I can't do anything to stop it, I don't know what to do!"

Another presence settled behind Hadlee, but she ignored it in favor of trying to wipe her tears away again.

"Why did you leave me?!" Hadlee screamed at long last, wishing she had any control over the cold beginning to spread numbness around where it had come to rest.

Hadlee flinched at another touch on her already shivery back.

The presence that was probably Paislie signed an 'r' against Hadlee's arm.

So it really was Paislie. And Randy, Hadlee could guess without much doubt.

Hadlee felt tears continue flowing down her cheeks as she vaguely wondered whether she would be able to convince anyone this was real.

[undeaddollz]

omg I loved the request for older! Sibling! Reader, it’s very rare in the fandom unfortunately.

could you possibly add to that trope with this prompt: One day the bowers gang are hanging at (depend’s on who the sibling is) and Reader just walks into the kitchen in a top and they just have scars. Just scars on their back or front of arms, just a scar that certainly wasn’t by being reckless or self inflicted.

wether it be they used to be bullied heavily, they got into fights a lot, (if Henry then maybe their dad’s abuse), maybe even a rare occasion where Reader might’ve been in a deadly situation and somehow survived.

I just need older sibling reader to be loved more than younger, and always female, reader.

ok im gonna do how each guy would react if it was their sibling! idk if you want it like a fanfiction or something! (i might make a hashtag for older sibling bowers gang cause i honestly love writing this...) if you guys love older sibling reader PLEASE request prompts i love writing prompts

HENRY BOWERS - the scars are likely from butch - henry knows that butch obviously beats on you too but you never let him know the extent cause c'mon, thats your little brother, you don't want him to see that. - when he sees deep scars like that he freaks out and starts yelling - he really does care about you more than everything, he's yelling saying shit like "i'll kill him" "what the hell did he do" - although he knows he can't really go against butch - he makes you sit still while he basically covers you in scar cream, glaring if you move while breathing - he cancels any plans he had and you guys spend the day together, you don't really talk about it but henry keeps his eye on you all day VICTOR CRISS - probably some sort of bullying scars

- he's shocked when he see's them, cause he had never heard of any bullying issues from you or your guy's parents

- a little upset you didnt tell him even though he was probably young when it occurred

- he tries to get you to talk to him about it

- when he finds out its a bullying situation he starts to feel guilty..maybe he should stop bullying the losers...no no. that's different. they're freaks, you're his older sibling, you're cool.

- later in the day he barges into your room with your favorite snacks, drinks and candy, actually paid for by him..for once, since he usually bugs you for money

- you guys watch a movie together and he tries to not stare or bring up the scars

BELCH HUGGINS

- scars are either from bullying or some sort of fight

- freaks the hell out.

- even though you aren't bleeding he acts like you are

- goes to get some scar cream and says you HAVE to use it

- silently thinks the scars are badass but he wont tell you that

- you guys go on a silent drive, minus the radio playing, you just listen to music and don't talk

- he treats you like glass that whole day

- tries to cook for you since your guy's mom is working, emphasis on tries. its horrible but you try to eat it anyways. ...you guys end up ordering pizza.

PATRICK HOCKSTETTER

- the scars could literally be from anything

- he doesn't exactly care.. but he wants to know how you got them

- probably the first time he really has a conversation with you, in a long time at least.

- he had stopped making drawings for you when he turned 10 but this day he comes into your room with a drawing, its just with brown and black and its mostly scribbles but you can make out two people who look like you and him

- he doesn't love or care for you but you're a part of his routine so he doesn't want you gone, he doesn't want his routine disrupted so he tries to keep you around.

[tempest-toss]

The Call - Prep and send off

First thing was first: Thorn needed to be ready for whatever they would come across. They silently opened their trailer and slipped inside. With the lights on, they began to strap themselves up. A few guns, a bulletproof vest for armor, a backpack for storage, a knife for stabbing, and some night vision goggles to assist them.

The hand radio crackled to life, beeping out a message in morse code, ".…. . .- -.. / - --- / .-. ..- .. -. …". A quick translation had confirmed in Thorn's mind where they were going to head next, the ruins. As they pocketed the hand radio, a question about who could have sent the message danced in their mind. After all, the only people who could possibly have access to the radio were other insurgents. This gave Thorn a sliver of hope, perhaps they could be saved?

Upon exiting from their trailer, they made a beeline to the peace duo's trailer and politely knocked on it. After some shuffling the door opened to reveal the friendly stoner Marvin.

"Sup dude? Welcome into the safest place right here for now" Marvin spoke as he helped Thorn in. The "Groove Palace" as Dallas once called it was an average, yet cluttered trailer full of knickknacks and other traditional hippie objects, including peace signs, lava lamps, and fabrics containing rich tie-dye jobs.

"Right now? What do you mean right now?" Thorn asked.

"Well, Dallas got bit and he's starting to transform into a werewolf," Marvin replied nonchalantly.

Thorn turned his head to the other side of trailer as he heard the sound of scraping metal. Dallas had been in a thin tie-dye shirt and shorts, mentioning that he was going to play his hand pan in the river, "for the acoustics". Now Dallas' shirt was clinging for dear life, as his newfound muscularture threatened to rip it off. He gnashed his teeth as the pain was unbearable, his face shifting to a snout which barely supported his red glasses. He grew taller and brawnier as his bones cracked and shifted and grew to support the new muscle being added. His hair shifted to fur as it sprouted all over his body, covering him in a dense, brown coat. His eyes opened to show a primal hunger, a growl rumbling through his throat as his ears perked at Thorn's breathing.

Thorn, slowly reached for his gun before Marvin stopped him and walked in front of him. He took a deep drag on his 420-j blunt and blew the smoke out in Dallas' face, causing the new werewolf to hack and cough.

"Was that necessary, man?"

The werewolf grumbled as he waved the smoke away. He blinked a few times before making an observation.

"Boy, Thorn, you shrunk!"

He laughed a deep laugh, giving a closed-eye smile. His tail wagging happily; His peace sign medallion ended up on his tail, probably when he was flailing around. This led Thorn's eyes to Dallas' leg, noticing that even transformed, a scar remained. Perhaps that might be useful knowledge for the future?

"Figured that'd calm you down. Werewolf biology is quite interesting." Marvin hummed before turning to Thorn. "I've got the big puppy safe. If need be I'll be a friendly cat for you. I'd advise you make your way to the ruins. I spied on your conversation with Sable earlier."

After a few more exchanges of words, the duo sent Thorn off, with the werewolf giving his trademark peace sign with his large claws. As Thorn turned to head to the meadow, a whine prevented them from committing just yet. They turned to see Rockette whining, having been leashed to the outside of the trailer. Thorn jogged to her and began untying her.

"Maybe you can find Gordon, so I can sock him for causing all this shit." Thorn huffed as they undid the leash. Rockette got on her hind legs to lick Thorn in the face before bounding off.

After checking the area again, they began heading their way to the Ruins. Along their way, they entered the Meadows. Thorn grimaced as they saw the ruins of a picnic. They recall how Cindy was hosting one that afternoon for friendship reasons, according to her.

"help... help me..."

A voice heard off the path by Thorn. It could be another camper... or it could be a werewolf faking it to lead Thorn to their death.

[tia-amorosa]

Sunset Died - Keaton Family (18 Pics)

Most of the inhabitants lost their homes in the catastrophe, but some were lucky enough to find intact properties that were still suitable for living in. And so Marty was also able to find something for his family. And If it hadn't been for him, his wife and young son might no longer be alive.

Many things in the house had to be replaced. But the family was lucky and received generous support. Although Justine would have preferred to do without the help. "You like that, huh? I would have preferred to buy it for you myself, but instead it came here at the dirty hands of the Altos. Hh… and your dad? He can't work as an athlete anymore. His back has suffered a lot, and all because he wanted to protect us".

It's just like Justine said. Marty just wanted to protect his family. While the whole house collapsed on top of them, he threw himself over his wife, who was holding their baby as tightly as she could. The debris landed on his body and caused some damage, which is why he is still often in pain. And so he is no longer fit to be a top athlete. His body has also lost a lot of muscle mass recently. But things should get better again.

Little Kenny is now one and a half years old and is developing very well. Even if his diet so far only consists of vegetables and fruit porridge. "Hey, are you ready?"/ "mhmh…".

The family is not alone, they have a little roommate. The little old cat had a lucky escape. His little tail had to be removed because one of the impacts had sent him flying through the air and he landed a little unhappily, breaking the little appendage. But he is coping well with his little stump. "mrrau".

There was never anything more important to Marty than fitness. He had trained for several hours every day. He had to take long breaks because his body needed to recover. From a medical point of view, he could only be helped as much as the circumstances allowed. No major surgery could be performed. But physiotherapy… "Food is ready".

Everyone took a plate and then sat down at the table. And like every time, Justine was silent for most of the meal. "Hey, the waffles aren't that bad…"/ "You know I have no problem with your cooking, Marty"/ "yeah, I know…. it's because of everything here… Hey, we're fine"/ "we're fine as long as I keep my mouth shut…you know how it is for me as a cop? ".

"hey, honey… I know you'd like to take them all to jail at once…"/ "It's not okay what they're doing here with the others. I'm only privileged because I'm in the police force and I've been made privy to everything. And yet I don't know what this is all about… they could help everyone here.".

"They're probably following some kind of perfidious plan, I don't know"/ "For sure, and I'm sure I'll figure it out at some point. I'm already glad that I can use my laptop, even when there's no internet… I was able to back up the entire archive of the station on it."/ "Welcome to the digital age…".

"I know you just want to do your job properly. But you're really doing a lot by helping the others"/ "since the whole thing happened… There's hardly any crime anymore, but… I miss this work, you know? There would be enough reasons to put them in jail. If only I had at least some kind of contact… I know they have a radio for communication, otherwise nothing would come in from the outside".

"I'm also getting tired of depriving others of something. Look around you… Unlike others, we almost live in luxury. The stove, the shower, our clothes… I'd just like to invite someone over again and not have to hide anything."/ "Surely some of them have already noticed what's going on here…". Marty held his wife's hand. "Probably, yes. I'm glad this house was still in such good condition, we didn't have to do much."

Justine got up to clear the dishes. She had a wistful expression on her face. "I would have just… Really liked to have picked out a few things myself, paid for with our own money… Instead, we live in second-hand furniture that they imported from somewhere"/"but you have to admit, our bed…it's good"/"hnhn… Yeah, sure. The weather's bad, we're staying in today. On a Sunday of all days…"....

"Hey, Kenny, are we playing airplane?"/ "hnn, yeah…"/ "I'm so proud of our little one. Luckily he didn't get hurt"/ "he had a double Protection shield right away…I wish we had gone on this trip. But you didn't want to because he was still too little"/ "I regret it a bit too…I'm going to do some work on the PC now".

When Justine became pregnant, it was a bit of a shock at first. After all, they actually wanted to enjoy life together for a little while longer and, above all, work on their careers. But the closer they got to the due date, the more they looked forward to their first son together. If they had lost him, they would probably have lost themselves too.

Even if the Internet is not available at the moment, there is still plenty for Justine to do. Sorting through folders, looking at open cases and processing them if necessary. But the last major incident was some time ago. "VJ took a few things without asking… . Honestly? I would probably have done the same if I'd lost everything and I was really hungry.

Nothing passes you by without a trace when you're doing everything you can to keep your family safe… The bruises have long since faded, but the scars caused by the falling debris and sharp edges will probably last a lifetime. "I'll do some careful training. At least the arms and shoulders… My beautiful muscles, all gone…".

Marty is trying to get back into shape. His mind is strong, but his body is lagging behind. Although he can no longer work as a professional athlete, he can offer others a good workout. From time to time he even works as a snitch for his wife. He can be charming and friendly while also teasing information out of others.

All is well in the Keaton household for the time being. The only question is for how much longer. Justine is under pressure because she knows more than the other inhabitants. The town and national borders are cut off from the outside world. So far, no one has set out to look for survivors, except Agnes. And normally she should be back by now.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

@greenplumbboblover 😊😗

[annwrites]

⸻ see somethin' you like, darlin'? ⸻

· pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader · type: part of a series · summary: you & billy are far from hawkins & get a room for the night. · tw: mentions of domestic violence, mentions of near-childhood molestation · word count: 3,518

When you wake, it's daylight out and the car is stopped, the smell of gasoline wafting through the cabin.

You slowly sit up and see that you're at a gas station.

You look around, and spot Billy, who's standing behind the car, gassing it up.

You exit the car, and he glances to you.

"See you're finally awake."

You'd only woken one other time in the middle of the night, and had listened silently as Mötley Crüe played quietly on the radio, Billy softly singing along. You'd let his voice put you back to sleep.

You nod, stretching, and he licks his lips as your t-shirt rides up a tad before settling back over your hips.

His eyes meet yours again.

"Where are we?"

The nozzle jerks and Billy removes it, screwing the gas cap back into place. "Missouri."

Your brows raise.

He comes to stand in front of you. "Slept right through Illinois."

You'd gone through an entire state overnight.

Something about him letting you sleep peacefully all night while he raced to get the both of you away before anyone could come after you makes warmth bloom in your chest.

You cross your arms gently. "Do...do you think we're okay?"

He shrugs. "My folks will probably know I'm headed for California. I'm guessing your dad wouldn't know where to start looking for you?"

You shake your head.

He reaches into the back pocket of his jeans, pulls out a pack of smokes, then retrieves a lighter from his front right pocket and he lights one up. He takes a long drag before speaking again, eyes wandering over those milling around the gas station, fueling up or wrangling unruly kids, taking bites of their gas-station snacks.

He then looks back to you again. "You hungry?"

You blink up at him, more worried about being caught and dragged back home than grabbing a candy bar.

Not one to dwell on serious matters, he is.

You shrug. "A little."

He turns, heading to go inside.

You follow behind.

When you enter the small convenience store, the smell of hot dogs and something sugary greets your senses, cool air washing over you.

The two of you go in separate directions.

You opt for something hot to eat, him, a bag of chips and a pack of M&Ms. You grab a bottle of water from one of the coolers, while he opts for a Red Bull.

Once you're standing up front before the cashier, you begin patting your pockets, realizing your wallet is in one of your bags in the car. "I'll be right back, I have to go grab some cas—"

He pushes your food together with his. "It's fine, I've got it."

"Thank you," you say quietly.

The older woman behind the counter with dyed-red hair and a bit too much eyeliner glances between the two of you with a concerned expression.

Your brows furrow, confused as to why she's giving you a strange look. Your pictures aren’t already being broadcast on TV, are they? And then you remember that you'd been beaten black and blue last night.

Billy rolls his eyes. "I'm not the one that gave her a tune-up. So, you want to ring my shit up now, or what?"

You look down, embarrassed.

The scanner starts to beep.

Once you're both back in the car—you taking small bites from your hotdog, Billy taking sips from his energy drink—you remain silent as he turns out of the parking lot, merging back into traffic.

"Are you still okay to drive? I mean, aren't you exhausted? You look tired."

He glances to you with a smirk and a raised brow.

Great, the pretentious asshole is back.

"If you think I'm about to let you behind the wheel, sweetie, you have another thing comin'."

You lean back, taking another bite of your food.

You swallow. "I wouldn't know how, even if I wanted to."

He shifts gears. "Don't tell me you only know automatics."

You take a sip of your water. "I don't know any."

He slows for a red light, looking at you. "Your old man never taught you how to drive?"

You shake your head.

He rolls his eyes, accelerating again. "Figures."

You're in Oklahoma when Billy finally stops, the sky now a dusky pink color, splotches of orange melded in.

The two of you spend most of the day in silence—well, not talking, that is—at one point he turns his music back on, blaring Sammy Hagar's I Can't Drive 55, while, of course, refusing to drive that himself, instead cutting people off in traffic, while going well over the speed limit.

You try to tell him that if he keeps it up, he'll inevitably get a ticket. And what if the cops then find out that he's been reported missing? That both of you have? Not that you’re sure either of you have been yet, but that paranoia of being discovered and carted back to Hawkins refuses to release you.

He then smirks, smoking another cigarette—you hate the smell, and he knows it—and he tells you "You worry too damn much, darlin'. Might help you relax if you just got laid.".

You groan, lean your head back against the seat, and stare out the open passenger-side window.

He merely laughs, turning back to the road.

Currently, you're standing next to him at the front desk of a Super 8 motel, your bags at your feet as he asks the receptionist for a room for the night.

"We currently have a few rooms available. How many beds?"

He glances to you and you stare up at him in return.

"Which is cheapest?" He asks, turning back to the receptionist.

You both wait patiently as she checks the motel's log book before looking back to Billy. "We have a room with a double-bed that's twenty-five a night."

His jaw flexes. "And if I want two beds instead?"

She glances to you—your bruised-up face—then back to him, then her log book once again. "It'd be double the price."

He sighs, pulling out his wallet, slapping a twenty and a five down on the counter. "One bed it is, then."

You watch as he writes down the name George Thorogood in the guest book, your lip twitching in amusement.

She hands him the key, and each of you pick up your bags from the worn, stained carpet, then, and head back outside, and you follow him up a flight of stairs to your room for the evening.

Once the door is closed behind you, you switch on the light, taking in the low-budget space.

A single bed is shoved against the middle of the wall, small wooden nightstands on either side of it, an AC unit under the window to your left. Against the opposite wall is a box TV sat atop a dresser, with a placard on top stating that they have HBO. To the right side of the bed is the closet, past that, the bathroom. There's also a small table with two chairs by the door you've just entered.

You watch as he drops his bag on the floor, before kneeling down and pulling a jewelry box out, placing it on the bed, and then a small steel strong box.

Your brows furrow.

He flips open the lid of the jewelry box, dumping the contents onto the comforter. He begins sorting through everything, separating it all into two distinct piles: cheap, and expensive-looking.

"Did...did you steal that from your mom?"

He looks to you. "Step, and yeah, I did. Got a problem with that?"

You study him for a moment, then shake your head.

He turns back to the jewelry—hand hovering over a silver ring—which he then picks up, and lets out a low curse. "This was my mom's. Fucking bastard. Bitch."

He shoves it into his pocket.

He looks to you. "Think a pawn shop would take costume jewelry?"

You shrug. "Maybe. If not, you can always try an antique store. They probably won't give you very much for it, though."

He dumps all the expensive pieces back into the box, then shoves the rest into a pocket on his duffel bag. Next, he slides the heavy strong box toward the spot the jewelry box has now vacated.

He stares down at it for a moment, considering.

He then walks into the bathroom.

You sit, listening for a moment before you hear something being jimmied, and then he comes back into the bedroom, handle-arm from the tank in-hand.

He kneels before the box, shoving the piece of thin metal under the lid and he pushes upward as much as he can, his lips pressed into a firm line.

He stops for a moment.

"Gonna end up breaking the fucking thing instead," he mutters to himself.

He looks back to you over his shoulder. "Do you have any bobby pins?"

You stand.

"I think so."

You walk over to your bag, pick it up, and set it atop the table. You begin rifling through the pocket where you'd put a few personal care items, including a small pack of bobby pins.

You hand them to him, your fingers brushing against the palm of his callused hand.

He takes two out, unbends them, and he shoves both into the keyhole of the box and begins to slowly turn them.

He stares at the headboard a few feet from him, going off of feeling alone, trying to concentrate.

"Motherf—" He bites his lip, turning them the other way.

He shoves one in further. "C'mon, you bitch."

And then you hear something click and a wide smile breaks out across his face. "Ha! Fuck yeah!"

He stands, throwing open the box's lid, and both your eyes widen when you see the rolls of cash inside.

He looks to you—who's still standing beside him—with a raised brow and a pleased smirk.

"My old man's savings. What I could get my hands on anyway. He has an account at the Hawkins Credit Union, too, but..."

He begins counting the bills in his hand. "Twenty, thirty, forty, fifty..." He continues in only a mere whisper then.

You sit down, waiting patiently for him to finish.

Finally, he puts the last of the bills he'd been counting back in the strong box, practically vibrating with excitement. "Three-thousand fucking dollars!"

He turns back to you. "Do you have any idea how long that'll keep us going for, honey? Fucking weeks—longer, maybe."

You smile at him.

He turns back, nodding. "Goddamn, three thou'."

"How much did you bring?"

You flush, feeling inferior in comparison, because you'd done the same as him before leaving home: stolen from him. But the amount you've brought along is practically chump-change in comparison.

"Not nearly as much. My dad...he spends most of his paychecks on booze and scratch-offs. So, only a little over three-hundred."

You reach into your bag, rifling through an inner pocket, until your fingers brush again cool metal.

"I did take this, though," you say, handing him a Rolex.

He whistles. "Damn, how much is this worth?"

He looks at you from under his lashes.

You shrug. "My mom bought it for him at some point before she left."

His smile falters then, his eyes staring into your own.

You wonder what has caused his sudden shift in mood.

"Yours left you, too?"

So that’s why.

You nod, taking the watch from him.

"It was a long time ago,” you say, dropping it into your bag.

He steps away, flopping back on the bed, hands behind his head as he stares up at the ceiling. "So, what was the plan, anyway? If I hadn't come along, I mean. Were...you meeting someone?"

You tuck one of your feet under you. "No. I just planned to walk for as long as I could. Maybe thumb a ride if need-be."

He snorts.

"'If need-be'," he repeats back to you. "You realize California is over two-thousand miles away, right, honey?"

You shrug. "I hadn't necessarily planned on California, specifically. Like I said: I just want to go West."

"Well, that's where you're headed now. Specifically."

He smiles to himself. California. Home. He’s finally going home. He'll never have to be around those people again.

"You mind if I ask how long he's been doing it for?"

You don't need to ask him to elaborate what he's asking exactly.

You're quiet for a moment, staring down at your recently-painted toes. "Since before my mom left. But before she did, he never hit me. Only her. So nine."

He chews the inside of his cheek. "That the only thing he did: hit you?"

You know what he's asking. And you don't want to answer.

"Does it matter?"

You've given him the answer without even having to say it.

"How many times?"

You sigh, wishing he'd drop it. You briefly consider snapping at him, just to cause an argument, which will get you off of this subject, most assuredly.

"Never, technically."

He sits up, looking at you, forearms resting against his thighs, fingers steepled. "No?"

You shift uncomfortably.

"When...after I turned twelve and hit puberty... There was this one night when he came home—drunker than I'd ever seen him before. I'd been in bed asleep. He woke me up. Called me my mom's name. I think he thought I was her. I decided to knee him in the groin when he started trying to take off my nightgown. He hit me for it, but it got him off of me, at least. I slept outside that night. Well, stayed outside. I didn't do much sleeping, too afraid to close my eyes.

"The next morning, it was like it never happened. Maybe he didn't remember. I sure as hell wasn't going to remind him out of fear of him finishing what he'd tried to start the night before."

You're both silent for a moment, a pregnant pause settling between you until Billy speaks.

"I'm sorry."

You look at him. "Me too."

He doesn't want you feeling sorry for him, though. Doesn't want you asking him to open up like you just had.

Men are built different. Girls can cry and get upset all they want—they’re emotional little things to begin with. Men need to be tough. You want to feel something? Get angry, then.

He stands, shrugging off his jacket, tossing it back on the bed. He then grips the back of his shirt, pulling it off as well, and you look away, blushing.

He smirks at the look on your face. A dozen sly comments make their way through his head, but he refrains. For now.

"I'm going to take a shower to wash the road off of me."

He glances to your bag for a moment. "You got any makeup in there, like Revlon or some shit?"

You look at him with furrowed brows. "No. Why?"

"Well, maybe you should get some. Tired of people giving me dirty looks thinking I did that shit to you," he states, gesturing to your face.

You shrug. "It'll heal eventually."

"Yeah, in a couple weeks, if not longer."

"I thought you were going to shower?"

He raises a brow. "Saw it when I went to get the handle-arm. Big enough for two."

You roll your eyes, standing, then flop down face-first on the bed. "I'll be just fine right here."

He stares at your ass for a moment. "Oh, I'm sure you will, sweetheart."

You groan and he chuckles as he heads in the direction of the bathroom.

He doesn't bother closing the door and you hear the water start.

And he of course sings loudly the entire time—the lyrics to Warrant's Cherry Pie.

You cover your head with a pillow.

Fifteen minutes later, Billy emerges from the bathroom with nothing but a towel hanging low on his hips, his happy-trail visible. He'd positioned it exactly-so in front of the mirror before coming out.

...And you’re busy staring out the window. Because of course you are.

He clears his throat and immediately turns toward his bag when you turn to look at him.

"Shower's free," he states, dropping his towel to the floor as he pulls on a pair of black briefs.

Your eyes widen. "Billy!"

He glances up to you with a bored expression.

Meanwhile, your face is now cherry-red, your expression that of mortification.

A mischievous smirk then crawls its way across his lips as your eyes glance from his now-clothed waist, to his muscled chest—still wet from the hot water—then your eyes meet his, noticing his damp, slicked-back curls.

"See somethin' you like, darlin'?"

You grab the clothes you picked out for wearing to bed tonight while he'd been cleaning up, and storm past him, slamming the bathroom door behind you, even locking it as you turn the water back on, sitting on the toilet lid, head in your hands as you try to calm your now-thundering heart.

Billy merely lays back on the bed again, feeling content, a wry smirk on his face. "Oh yeah, she wants me."

When you emerge from the bathroom, you find Billy asleep on the left side of the bed, nearest the door, light from the window shining down in thin slivers which arch across his bare back.

You quietly pad over, pulling the curtains closed, the room darkening.

Your stomach then rumbles and you decide to go out in-search of a nearby place to get some dinner. It's when you open the door to the room—a twenty from the money you'd taken from your father tucked away in your pocket—that Billy's eyes pop open.

"The fuck're you doin'?" He mumbles, face half-buried in his pillow.

"I'm hungry."

He closes his eyes. "Then order room service."

You shift on your feet. "I don't think they offer that here."

He groans in tired irritation. "Fucking delivery, I mean."

"Why can't I just—"

"Because I don't need to worry about your ass disappearin'. And I'm fuckin' beat, so I'm not going back out. Close the damn door."

You sigh, doing as he's said, sliding the chain-lock back into place.

"Deadbolt, too," he commands.

You oblige.

You walk over to the bedside table beside his head and pull the drawer open, hoping to find some menus inside, and you end up in-luck. You bend over to grab them, and his hand suddenly slides up the back of your thigh then and you jerk, standing up straight, nearly dropping the laminated papers from your grip.

You swat his hand away, stepping back over to the table.

He snickers to himself and you just look at him, shaking your head.

"Is that all you think about?" You ask, voice full of disbelief that he'd just done that.

He rolls onto his back, folding his hands atop his bare chest, eyes still closed. "You sure you want the answer to that, honey?"

You roll your eyes, perusing the menus. "Are you hungry?"

"For food or somethin' else?"

Pig.

"What do you think?" You spit at him, and his lip twitches at having gotten under your skin so easily. Again.

"Not really."

You feel the need to berate him for going to bed on an empty-stomach.

All he's had today is a couple bags of junk food, but you know he's tired, so you instead let it go.

You order a small pizza from a local Italian place, and twenty minutes later, there's a knock at the door.

And Billy is woken yet again.

You silently pay the man, closing and locking the door behind you as you set the box on the table.

"Smells good," he says, words slurred.

And he said he didn't want anything. Men.

You plop a piece down on a paper plate and walk it over to him. "Here."

He looks up at you. "Really tired. Maybe I should let you feed it to me."

Jesus Christ—he never stops, does he?

You toss it down on the nightstand. "Your arms aren't broken."

It doesn't take long for the two of you to finish eating. After which, you brush your teeth, then come back into the bedroom, the sky now dark outside.

You stand on the side of the bed opposite him, considering sleeping on the floor instead.

"You comin' to bed?" He asks, head turned toward you, eyes closed again.

"Are you going to keep your hands to yourself?"

He shrugs one shoulder. "No promises."

You briefly consider smothering him with a pillow, but instead opt for postponing committing homicide. For now.

You lie down next to him, right on the edge of the bed, and his eyes flutter open.

He smiles. "Knew I'd get you into bed eventually."

"Go the hell to sleep."

He closes his eyes again, a warm smile on his face. "I don't mind 'em fiesty, y'know."

You roll over, facing away from him.

"Mm, even better view."

You let out a loud, irritated groan, stand, then climb beneath the comforter, wrapping it around you. You close your eyes, ignoring the fact that Billy is lying just a few inches away, as you drift off to sleep.

[evandarya]

Brain Dead, Tim becomes a halfa

This could be a whole fic.

It was supposed to be an easy bust. Tim had been excited, at first. He had discovered the discrepancies in Dalv Co.'s books. He had done all the legwork pinning Vlad Masters down like a butterfly. He had dug into the man's past and discovered all the questionable business transfers that had skyrocketed the man into wealth. So, when it came time to raid the man's mansion in Amity Park, Illinois, Tim was going to be there. He deserved to be part of this.

When they busted into the mansion they found it empty. The man was nowhere to be found, but they had a search and seizure warrant, so they searched the place. Tim let the Justice League and the SWAT team deal with the nitty-gritty of cataloging and removing Master's stuff and Tim went looking through the mansion.

It was in the library that he knew Masters had a hidden room. He could feel air flow coming from behind a bookshelf, and when he pushed against it, it swung right open. Stone steps led down, deep underground the estate. He radioed Batman to let him know what he was doing and started down the steps.

When he reached the bottom he heard voices. Tim pressed himself against the wall and listened.

"I'm not letting you escape, Vlad." a voice yelled, young and male.

"You won't have a choice, Daniel. Don't forget, if I go down, so do you." that voice was older. Probably Masters. Tim sent a silent message to Batman over his wrist computer.

"I didn't have anything to do with your shady business dealings, and if you out yourself, then that's entirely on you."

Vlad said something then, too quiet for Tim to hear. He leaned in just a little to catch the words, but his foot slipped on a step. There was no way they didn't hear that.

Sure enough, two people came around the corner, a young man with black hair and the bluest eyes Tim had ever seen and the man Tim had been trying to get arrested for the last six months.

Vlad Masters grabbed his arm in a surprisingly strong grip and pulled him out of the stairwell. "Well, well, well, look what the bat drug in." Masters sneered.

The boy, Daniel Vlad had called him, grabbed Vlad's arm and held up a hand, as if to physically stop the man. "Let him go, Vlad."

"Like you could ever stop me, Daniel." Several things happened all at once. Vlad pulled a strange looking taser out of his pocket and tased Daniel. The boy fell to the ground with a scream and a spasm. Tim aimed a kick at Vlad's face, but he was flung across the room and into some kind of device embedded into the wall. He hit the side of the device hard. There was a bright flash and blinding pain.

---

Tim didn't know when he blacked out, but he must have. Otherwise, he wouldn't be blinking into consciousness, staring up at the fluorescent lighting of an unfamiliar room. His whole body felt like pudding. He groaned and brought his hand up to rub his face but froze. Something was wrong. His black gloves were white.

"Red Robin!" That was Batman's gruff voice. "Don't try and sit up yet."

"No, let him sit up." That was the boy's voice. Daniel. "It's best if he gets oriented quickly."

"When I want your input, I'll ask," Batman said through clenched teeth.

"I'm just saying. Not like I know exactly what's going on with him."

"What is going on with me?" Tim asked, looking over at Batman, then the boy, Daniel. Daniel was in handcuffs.

"There was an accident. We don't know the severity of the damage, but I promise, I will find a way to fix this." Batman said.

"He's not broken!"

"Please, will someone tell me what happened to me!" Tim said, desperation leaking into his voice. He looked down at his suit and it was all wrong. His pants, boots, gloves, bandolier straps, and cape were all white, his belt was silver, and his shirt was deep forest green. There was something else wrong, too, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He put his hand to his chest and then he knew. He wasn't breathing. He didn't have a heartbeat. "Am I dead?"

"No," Batman said at once.

"Sort of," Daniel said, earning him a growl from Batman. "Lying to him and yourself isn't going to help anything," he said to the man before turning back to Red Robin. "The accident changed you. You're what's known as a halfa. Half ghost, half human."

"I've never heard of that. How is that possible?" he asked. even though he didn't have a heartbeat he could feel a panic attack building.

"It's rare. There are only three true halfa's in existence. You, Vlad, and Me. You have an advantage over us, though. You won't have to figure this shit out on your own."

Tim looked into Daniel's bluer than blue eyes. His whole world was crashing down around him. Everything would change, he knew. But maybe it wouldn't be all bad.

[captain-mj]

I know I already sent a Körangi ask, but the selkie!Soap and changeling!Ghost au won’t leave my brain.

The amount of angst possible for these two in it is just aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah u feel me? Like for example, imagine on a mission Soap has been talking non-stop, flirting making jokes and Ghost tells him to shut up. HE WOULD HAVE TO SHUT UP!! Ghost would probably think Soap‘s being petty until he asks for a sitrep or something and Soap has to stay silent. Ghost grows more and more panicked until he says something like "goddamn it, talk to me, Johnny!" (if it’s the good ending yknow) and Soap can finally talk again.

The bad ending would obviously be Soap getting into trouble and being unable to ask for help :)

Genius take, hell yeah (this takes place at some random part in the timeline lol)

Soap had been... particularly good at taking orders lately. Ghost had picked up on it and he thought it was pretty odd, but nothing he was really worried about it. It made missions easier, knowing Johnny would actually follow his orders for once.

This mission required Ghost to be focused and that was becoming increasingly hard.

"I'm just asking if your career ever comes up."

"You asked if it comes up in the bedroom. Bit different of an ask."

"Yeah. I mean with the mask and the knives and the ability to tie someone up and..."

"Soap, stop talking." Ghost growled, pleasantly surprised when Soap did in fact stop talking. Complete silence flooded the coms and that meant Ghost could focus on aiming.

He heard gunshots. Dozens of them. He waited for it to die down to ask. "Soap, sitrep?"

More silence.

"Soap, sitrep?" Ghost sighed. He swore if he was being an ass over him telling him to shut up. "Johnny. Sitrep. Are you solid?"

There was still nothing.

Ghost started to sweep the area with his scope, trying to find him. He ignored the growing anxiety that something was very wrong. There was an odd sensation across his own mouth, like someone was holding their hand over it.

"Johnny, what's going on? Are you compromised?"

Soap's heavy breathing came over the coms but he still wasn't speaking. Why wasn't he speaking? Ghost looked around more.

"I'll cover you. I just need to know where you are." Ghost could hear the distress in his own voice. "Soa-"

A gunshot shattered the air. It came through the comms this time. Ghost suddenly felt very sick.

"Johnny? Please, sitrep." He heard it. The panic in his voice. If this was anyone else, he'd like to think he could keep it under control, but this was Soap.

No response.

"I'm going to kick your ass when you get up here. You better fucking get up here." Ghost spotted him. He was holding his side, blood dripping. Maybe his radio was damaged.

One of the men started to round the corner, gun moving up. Ghost put a bullet through their brain before they got the chance.

He went under the assumption the radio was broken, not bothering to speak. From his position, he cleared a fucking trial. Soap was smart enough to follow.

MacTavish crawled his way through everyone and ended up right at Ghost's side again.

Ghost resisted the urge to throttle the man or hug him since they were still in an active battle situation.

"Radio busted?" It didn't look broken, but it wasn't always obvious.

Soap stared at him, mouth pressed into a thin line.

"Johnny?"

Soap had his hand over his wound and just stared.

Ghost moved closer and lifted his shirt to look at the wound. He put his hand on his other side and looked at him closely. The wound looked bad, but maybe that was why he was being quiet.

"Are you okay? Nod for me if you're okay."

Soap nodded slowly. He stared at Ghost.

"Johnny, please talk to me."

Soap let out a deep breath. "I'm so sorry, sir."

Ghost hit his shoulder hard. "Save it. Let's get out of here."

"Si..." Soap went to explain.

"Shut up and get to evac."

"...yes, sir."

[darkh3llscap3]

Twisted Love (part two)

Yandere! Harry Styles x Reader

F/N- Friends Name

R/C- Random Color

Warnings: mentions of alcohol and drugs (weed), mentions of public makeout, slight NSFW (dry humping), kidnapping, stealing, and mentions of past cheating.

Summary: When you go to a party the least thing you expect is to run into your ex.

General Masterlist

H.S Masterlist

<<<Part 1

Part 3>>>

Today was New Year's, F/N had begged me to come to this party because the boy she liked was coming. I'm honestly not one for partying, but anything to get my mind off everything. My friends told me it was changed into a pool party, which might make it more chaotic, but I'm not complaining. I quickly got dressed into one of my bathing suits and put on a dress that hung loosely from the top and was flowy at the bottom.

I checked the time and noticed I was a few minutes over the time we were supposed to be there. "Shit we're late already." My hands went to my phone waiting for Seph to pick up my call, but it went straight to voicemail.

I heard a loud honk outside my window making me jump and go over to my window and open the blinds so I could take a lookout. I see a pink mustang with its headlights on and immediately recognized her car. I get my stuff and jog outside to the car and get in.

"It's about time you came," I said playfully as she starts to drive to the party's location.

"I'm sorry you know I'm not trying to be lonely on New years." I didn't know what to reply since that's exactly what I'm doing so I just stayed silent. I'm guessing she caught on with the way her eyes went wide and she stumbled out her next sentence.

"Not that's it bad to be alone on New Yea- I mean being alone is a choice-Not that you wanted to be" She started rambling on continuously starting a new sentence to rephrase her last one.

"F/N it's okay I don't mind being alone it's nice. Plus, when I don't I'll always have you to go to." I smiled at her and I was able to see her grin as she continued to drive. She was wearing an R/C two-piece that barely covered her breast and a fishnet dress that looked really good on her. F/N was beautiful and always made men and women fall at her feet for as long as I've known her. She turned on the radio and a popular song started playing the melody filling the car. Her hand goes to turn it up and we jam out till we reached the party.

Once we get there the air reaks of beer and weed, a smell I've grown uncomfortly familiar with. I've been going to these college parties ever since the beginning of the year. I have been attending parties like this nonstop with F/N trying to get my mind off of the worries of the world. People are all over the place half wet mostly making out or drinking. It looks like an erotic scene from a tv show. We walk through the crowd and start making our way through. I feel a hand graze my ass making me look behind me only to see everyone distracted with dancing. I turn back around only to see F/N is gone and probably went somewhere without knowing I wasn't following her anymore. I look around to try and find her and then I see her talking to some blonde boy. So much for not being alone on New Year, but at least one of us is getting some.

I go in the direction of the liquor and down a couple of shots with some of the guests. Once I get past my tipsy state I decide to get some air to shake off the burning feeling taking over my chest. The cool air on my skin leads to goosebumps rising on my back and I sigh out. I get this feeling of being watched which isn't surprising at a party, but it makes my skin tingle so I turn around. I observe that nobody's attentions on me making me feel humbled for sure, but also gets me to mentally try to shake the feeling.

I turn back around to walk around a bit however, I'm stopped by my face hitting a hard chest and almost making me spill my drink. I look up and see beautiful green eyes staring back at me. "Harry," I whisper I haven't seen him since we broke up. My mind starts traveling to our relationship and how I miss him.

"Hey baby, I haven't seen you for almost a year now." I nod feeling awkward and try to cover it up with a smile. I remember how he hurt me and how I wasn't the same after, but I'm better now and I'm mature enough to have a conversation with my ex.

"Hey Harry, you're looking really good." I complimented and greeted him in one go making me feel like some kind of smart comedian. Also, it's cool how I practically killed two birds with one stone. I say internally making me physically giggle. Though he really did look good he had some new tattoos on his arms and his hair is shorter now. I close my eyes and try to stop mentally hitting on my cheating ex. Now that I think of it how did I not know that he was a cheater with the way he looks like a hot jock. Then again he was in theater and band in school so maybe it does make sense that I didn't see the signs.

"You look good too, but don't you always?" He smiled a beautifully twisted smile, but I was too drunk to notice. He raised his hand out towards me and then retracted the idea lost on him.

"You are wasted aren't you?" He asked, laughing, his cute dimples showing I just wanted to poke them. I couldn't help but laugh along because I was caught.

"Maybe." I had leaned in close and said it quietly like it was some profound secret. He smiled wide at my behavior and his eyes rank over my face reminding me of the day we broke up. My smile went down as I tried to get into a clearer mindset.

He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear causing me to look up while he was leaning down to be my height. "I've missed you so much." I could feel his breath tickling my ear making it hard to breathe. I felt an urge to lean in a feel his lips touch mine.

"I've missed you too." I exhaled and take another breath because I started to feel lightheaded. I knew I shouldn't be talking to him, especially since everything around me was relatively dizzy.

"You do?" His face started to soften and he leaned in a bit making me decide that I have to get away from him because this is too much. "Do you want to get in?" He pointed to the pool that had a few scattered people which was funny considering the pool was the star of the show. I couldn't really see how being in a pool with your ex could be a bad thing. Then again maybe it isn't a good idea to be half naked but I'm probably overthinking this. Either way, I'll deal with the consequences tomorrow.

He leads me to a nearby table where he takes off his shirt showing off all his tattoos. I look away not wanting to get distracted or even worse, caught. My eyes sneak up and I notice that he did get some new tattoos and they look heavenly on him. It was hard not to miss that he has a big butterfly in the middle of his chest now making me feel like he got it for me. I've always loved butterflies and he knows that but he got it when we broke up I tell myself in a way to convince myself in a coincidence and not everything about me. He noticed me staring and smirking making me look away cursing myself I did the thing I said I wouldn't.

"Do you need help taking that off?" He nodded towards my dress. Oh yeah, I was supposed to be taking my dress off. Shit. I start to nod without thought and he doesn't move to look at something behind me.

"Yeah sure." In all honesty, I knew sober me wouldn't want him 10 feet near me but right now I wanted him closer. God, I hate that he's so beautiful and that I have such good taste minus the cheating thing.

He gets close to me, his hand lowered on my thighs slowly going higher till he reached the hem of my dress and slowly started dragging it up over my head. He looked at me with such focus and leaned in a little bit kissing me behind my ear. Meanwhile, I was standing there in my bathing suit breathing hard with a heartbeat of a cheetah. Jesus, I think I may be wet.

He reached his hand out gesturing for me to take it, I grabbed his rough hands getting into the pool with him. The water's temperature made me sigh in relief there weren't many people in the few scattered here and there. We were planted on the side where no one else could see the water was illuminated by the lights in the pool making a cool baby blue. I go under wetting my hair so it slicks back.

Harry's arms wrapped around my waist pulling me closer to his warm body. "Do you remember that time you spent a night at my house and when everybody was sleeping and we went skinny dipping?" Harry looked down at me his gaze intense making me weak under his stare.

I remember that time very vividly. I had stayed at his house because my parents threw me out after they found out I had a boyfriend. I called Harry telling him what happened. He immediately picked me up and let me stay at his house. His mom was so sweet to me and made me feel comfortable. In the middle of the night, we went swimming but I didn't have anything to wear so I got naked leading Harry to strip too.

I giggle a little remembering how that night ended "Your mom caught us having sex in the pool it was so embarrassing she stayed away from that pool till she had it professionally cleaned!" I laugh at his attempt to be seductive.

He smirked at me pulling me closer to him. He grabbed my thigh pulling it on his back, My back hit the wall while he held me up since my other leg couldn't reach the floor. Harry leaned down to my ear "So, you do remember that night?" He whispered sexually in my ear which in turn made it harder to breathe. I decided to play fire with fire and pull his hips closer to me making him let out a low grunt. I know this is such a bad idea but people sleep with their ex all the time, right?

"Yeah I remember that night." His eyes were dark with desire and I was willing to give him what he wanted-what the hell am I thinking I don't want to fuck my ex. Do I? He kept looking down at my lips and finally moved down to catch me in a rough kiss.

My body froze not expecting him to go in for it. I started engaging in the kiss, the temptation too much, he started to grind on my lower part making me let out a little whimper from the feeling. Harry took this as his chance to stick his tongue in my mouth.

I haven't felt like this since he left after we broke up. I didn't get rebounds or one-night stands; it's not how I roll. But being with him has made me addicted and made it almost impossible to stop. His hand goes under my top grabbing my breast. This is enough to make me pull away remembering that we are in public and not in the privacy of a house. I push him away getting on my tiptoes to face him. It turns out something could make me stop.

"What happened?" He asks as he runs his hands through his wet hair looking at me. His eyes look crazy matched with his blushing lips.

"I don't want to have sex with you especially in a swimming pool with random strangers in it." I shrugged my shoulders trying to hide the elephant in the room.

"That's not the only reason is it love?" He asks me to come closer to me causing me to step to the side so he won't trap me against the wall again.

"I mean we did break up for a reason and it feels wrong to reward you by giving you exactly what you want." All the memories came rushing up to me making me regret kissing him. I felt insanely sober right now and my mindset was disappointed in my drunk self. I should really throw out my stash.

"It was a mistake you know that. I was drunk and I missed you!" I felt my tipping point was how can he just x out the fact that he cheated like it was nothing. He had never even explained what happened properly.

"I left because you cheated Harry and you can't even take the blame. You are always making excuses for your behavior and I was done with it. I get making mistakes while you are drunk because this was a mistake, but what you did is unforgivable." Pointing between us and I could see that he looked so angry that I regretted what happened but it was the truth. I was still bitter about him cheating because it made me question my self-worth. He was about to open his mouth to say something else but I cut him off "I'm not going to fight with you in the middle of a pool Harry." I lifted myself out of the pool getting my dress over my head as quickly as possible and noticed my bag missing from where I placed it.

Shit.

I made my way through the raging party trying to find F/N. I check every room and accidentally see a couple having sex. I check the bathrooms and living room outside and find her nowhere. I went out to the front trying to find where her car is parked. I wound up finding an empty parking space.

"Great" I sarcastically say to myself, she left me at a party with a bunch of drunk people including me. To top it off it's a chilly night and I'm wet in a dress that's sticking to my body.

I think it's better to start walking home and not try to ask one of the drunk strangers for a ride home. It's cold seeing I'm only in a flimsy dress and a wet bathing suit. I feel kind of off because I am alone in the middle of the night half wet in an outfit that doesn't really cover with no protection or a phone. I'm going to kill F/N when I see her for leaving me alone at an aprty. I see a car's headlights shine from behind me frighting me a little I turn around to see it slow down. I felt my heart start beating quickly feeling like I was gonna have a panic attack. They pull the window down to reveal a brunette with green eyes.

"Harry." I sigh with relief even though he's one of the last people I wanna see right now. I'm happy it's him and not some psychopath. "Thank god it's you." I finish my sentence.

"Do you need a ride home?"He questions me while looking around I look around only to see empty dark streets and houses with porch lights on.

I could keep walking to my house or I could have Harry, my ex, drive me there. Has much as I didn't want to go anywhere with Harry I didn't want to keep walking in the cold darkness to my house and end up on some true crime channel. I nod reluctantly when he unlocks the car and I notice his hair is still wet. I get an off feeling about Harry but I choose to keep my mind off of it as I settle in. We keep driving and end up on a random road and I realize that he doesn't know where I live because I had moved a while back. "Harry I moved and this isn't close to my house. I'm sorry I should have been giving you directions" I say he looks unbothered and keeps driving the way he's going.

"I know where you live baby but we're not going there." I felt my heart stop and my eyes water. I tried to pull on the handle of the door seeing it locked. We were now on a dirt road and not a single car or person could be seen. I slipped off my shoe using the hard side to try and hit Harry but he stopped the car at the side of the road. He grabs me and tries to manhandle my neck. I hit him with my shoe causing him to get on top of me and take the shoe out of my hand. I try to push him off but instead go for the lock button on the side of the car unlocking the door.

I slip out and start running and take my other shoe off so I'm not limping and run through the dark field. I feel him gaining on me. I see a house close to mine. It's a farm and I see where I can hide in the wheat field. I feel myself being tackled to the ground before I can make it over there. Harry's on top of me weighing me down on the ground his hands go around my neck choking me. He has a sinister smirk on his face as he leans down and kisses my cheek as my body starts to go weak from the lack of oxygen. I decide to scream but it's difficult when I'm gasping for fax air. I continue to struggle underneath him but it's a losing game.

"Baby you're not getting away when I finally have you again." I can't help but start crying but not completely giving up He tightens his grip on my neck and I feel my body grow weak. Tears fall down his cheeks like he's hurting from doing this. I feel my body go limp as my eyes shut closed too weak to do anything and darkness starts to cloud me. I do get to feel him lift me bridal styles carrying me back to the car. He sticks me in the back seat and gets on the driver's side. The last thing I hear is the engine of the car is turned on before I pass out.

[cutiecorner]

Okay. Officially entering batman mode (as if I haven't been there for weeks). This would be a million miles long if I talked about both his cgs, so I'll make a separate post for his dynamic with Clark Kent. Also good a time as any to remind that all relationships i portray are exclusively platonic/familial, please don't be weird. Art is from the Wayne Family Adventures on webtoon, btw!

As you can probably guess by the un-batman-ness of it all, Bruce's regression is largely stress/trauma related and involuntary

Given how much he has to deal with on a daily basis, it kind of takes a lot to get Bruce to regress. He doesn't do it often, at least at first. The one thing that makes him need to regress without fail is children being present at any altercation.

When that happens, he just kinda goes silent for the rest of the night. If he's working alongside someone they put the pieces together on their own that it triggered him in some way, so they don't bother him about it. Really he's just trying to get home before he breaks down.

Once he does get home, Alfred is there for him, and that's always what he needs. I'm very much of the headcanon (just canon honestly) that Alfred is straight up a parent to Bruce, and though they don't express it that much they very much see themselves as father and son.

Alfred knows when Bruce is regressed, its just a general look about him. He just drops every facade. The silence is also a big factor. Despite being stoic, Bruce usually rattles off all sorts of information when he gets home from a mission, so when he doesn't it makes a big difference.

Bruce doesn't really do regular regressor things. His version of regression is normals people's 'normal everyday relaxation time', if with a bit of nostalgia and a lot more tears.

Bruce's regression age is very nebulous and hard to define.

Demeanor wise, Bruce is very fragile when regressed. He's really jumpy, he gets scared at the smallest things and is very easily upset. He's also really apologetic about it, and as always has a hard time communicating his needs.

He follows Alfred around like a puppy, which Alf finds extremely endearing. Alfred needs to be in sight at all times or Bruce gets super worried and scared, so usually Bruce just clings to his arm if possible, or even his coat tails sometimes.

Obviously the tea flows freely, it's absolutely his favorite and very comforting for him. Though it hurts his very soul, Alfred waters it down a tiny bit with cold water so Bruce doesn't burn himself. Both of them have a very broad taste, and one of the few 'fun' things they do when Bruce is regressed is try new teas together. His favorite is Earl Grey, which Alfred tries very hard not to tease him about

Food wise, Bruce loves a good soup. For one, it's easy to eat without making a mess, and it's easy to be fed by someone else if it comes to that. Also it harkens back to sick days as a child, or even sick days as an adult. Though he tries to push them away for hero work, deep down Bruce loves being cared for on those days. Also come on it's soup!

He doesn't have a baby blanket, instead he straight up uses the comforter off his bed. He's always had the same one (as far as he knows) so it has the same effect for him. He's always draped in it, both because it makes him feel physically small and it kinda feels like a cool cape.

You'd think he'd try to avoid that stuff in his resting time, but he can't help it. Bruce always loved heroes, especially as a little kid. He loves old westerns, samurai, and detectives especially. Naturally, that kind of media is what he gravitates toward when he's regressed. They have an extensive archive of those things, movies, TV, and radio, so he usually takes his pick and tries to focus on that while he calms down. The Gray Ghost is his favorite, of course.

Applicably, pretty much the only time he talks while regressed is quoting the stories line for line as they happen. Usually just his favorite parts, but if he really needs to distract himself he could do the whole thing. Alfred feigns ignorance of the media so Bruce can feel like he's showing him something, but occasionally he'll quote a line and Bruce goes crazy /pos

A lot of his regression is just repeating things he did as a kid, mostly with Alfred, given he was kind of his only friend. If he's feeling up to it, they play chess, Alfred reads to him, or he does the puzzles (like crosswords/sudoku) in Alfred's morning newspaper - he loves that one because it makes him feel really smart.

He also likes to draw. Ironically, his adult skill at art doesn't go away when he's regressed, so the little doodles he makes are usually quite realistic sketches. For the most part he draws his family and friends. He likes to draw Clark and Diana and the rest of the justice league, sometimes as different types of heroes like cowboys or spacemen. Interestingly, he draws the heroes and their alter egos as different people - like his friend Diana is different than his friend Wonder Woman.

Though most of his comfort interests are straight from his childhood, there are a few things he enjoys from after that period. The most obvious examples would be Diana's taste in music (she's a likes hippie classic rock), Clark's favorite movies or shmultzy sitcoms like the partridge family, or his sons' favorite show, Star Trek (mostly Tim, but the others like it too).

They're not very physically affectionate usually, but sometimes Bruce likes to be held, especially when he's really upset. Usually they lay on the couch and he lays his head in Alfred's lap or on his shoulder.

Besides his comforter, he doesn't really have specific comfort items, like he doesn't have a teddy or paci initially. He does like to cuddle though, so he often carries pillows around with him.

Bruce and Alfred just aren't naturally affectionate, so they don't really have pet names. Bruce just sticks to Alfred or Al/Alf, maaaaybe Alfie if he's feeling incredibly small, but again he doesn't really talk anyway. Alfred just uses the normal terms of endearment, pretty much limited to "my dear boy", but if he's feeling soft he could go for "little one" or british-isms like "darling". Somewhere along the line after Clark encourages him to have a more happy regression experience, Bruce very rarely calls Alfred "pop". It's mostly because he would call Alfred "pops" in a 'you're old' type of way in his teen years, but it got mixed up in Bruce's baby brain as a genuine term. Alfred feels The Emotions Ever about it.

I might come back and add even more headcanons later or make a part two, but these are the base ones for now. I'm not even close to done lol, next up is baby Bruce with cg Clark!

[icouldntfinditsoiwroteit]

Vampire clones (Slick) Part 2

Previous<<

Slick sat silently, the entire bridge was silent as clones walked from one side to the other or sat looking at their screens, making sure the ship worked, but he could feel the stares and glares sent his way.

There were two obvious and the only actual reasons for said stares, first, he was known as the traitor clone, the clone who had caused the death of countless brothers, and second, even if Slick didn't want to acknowledge it, it was that not only was the Jedi sitting beside him, but they had their tail wrapped around him tight enough so that he couldn't try anything but not tight enough to hurt him.

Slick glanced to the side and noticed how the Jedi was sitting still, but even then the visor over their eyes made it impossible to know if they were looking at him.

"Is something the matter?" Their voice almost startled him as he looked away huffing.

"Are you going to keep me here until we get there?" Slick asked.

"Yes," They gave him a smile that only made Slick want to roll his eyes.

"Doesn't this ship have some cells?"

The Jedi hummed in formation.

"I may be trusting you with this mission, but I know that you are more than capable of escaping our contention cells going by your record in prison,"

"So, it's not like I'll be able to actually escape," 

"But in the time it takes us to apprehend you once more, you will most probably have already hurt quite a few of my men,"

"That is something I am not willing to risk,"

Slick remained silent after this, the Jedi took this as an end to their conversation as they looked away and reached for their datapad to busy themselves.

During the time Slick looked around and noticed how he was still getting the same stares and glares, this managed to prompt a question that he debated on asking for a while until he finally asked.

"How did you get the paper pushers to like you?" Slick asked not looking at the Jedi but more than aware of how their tail slightly tensed.

"Hard work, some explosions, and a miracle or two," Slick couldn't find any trace of the Jedi's voice but actually was able to notice the amusement on their voice.

"I know that many think the coruscant guard have it easy since they are in Coruscant, even some of my fellow Jedi have been surprised how actually dangerous being there is,"

"What, do you have to finish the food the Senators don't want?" Slick asked sarcastically.

"Their work doesn't revolve around the senate only, but to all of coruscant, patrols to different levels, persuing criminals, having to deal with the Senators and their constant death threats, I could go on for a while," They began with a serene voice that made Slick's skin crawl.

"I don't see where the explosions come in," Slick said trying to make the conversation a bit more interesting.

The Jedi hummed as it seemed they tried to remember one.

"Around the start of the war, when I had only been assigned to coruscant...."

Flashback

"This is General (F/N) report back..." (F/N) demanded but all they got was radio silence.

"Sir, no one has answered any of our comms," Commander Thorn informed.

(F/N) remained still for a moment as they tried to think what to do.

"Has any comm to the chancellor gone trough?" 

Thorn shook his head.

Just as (F/N) was going total once more a beeping sound pulled their attention.

"It's a comm, from inside the senate," One of the clones informed as he answered it.

"If anyone gets this, the senate is under attack, bounty hunters have the senators as hostages, send help!"

"Knight Skywalker?" (F/N) couldn't help but voice their surprise before refocusing.

"I'm going in, prepare a squad," (F/N) instructed.

"Yes sir," Thorn saluted before running out.

"Inform the Jedi Temple and the rest of the guard, we may need some backup," (F/N) ordered as they left the room.

"General, the squad is ready to go in," Commander Thorn informed as the squad saluted.

"Good, you are in charge during my absence commander,"

Timeskip

(F/N) walked carefully around the droid's body on the floor.

"Seems Knight Skywalker has been able to handle himself," (F/N) muttered as they noticed the lightsaber cuts.

"Sir?" One of the clones from the squad asked.

"Let's continue, I can sense we are near but remain alert," (F/N) instructed as they began making their way through the rotunda.

As they neared the center (F/N) signaled to stop, being able to feel the warning and panic in the force, they opened the door and their eyes widened in alarm at what they saw.

(F/N) made eye contact with Anakin who yelled the one word that made (F/N)'s heart drop.

"BOMB!" He screamed as he used his lightsaber to cut through the floor.

(F/N) closed the door and turned.

"GET DOWN!" (F/N) yelled as they ran, shifting into their "beast form" and tackling them.

Just as they hit the ground the bomb went off.

(F/N) held themselves tightly around the clones, using their body to not only protect them from the blast but also from the debris.

End of flashback

"It took the rescue squad around an hour to get us all out, fortunately, they only had some bruises," The Jedi explained with a relieved tone.

"And how exactly did you protect five entire clones?" Slick asked skeptically.

"Oh, right, you've probably never seen another Nakild, but we can all shift into our "beast" form, most describe them to be like dragons," They explained without missing a beat.

"So you could just turn into a giant monster on the battlefield?" Slick asked lacing around and noticing some glares at him harder than before.

"Correct,"

"Then why do you even need my help?"

"You will help in making everything faster and it will prevent many deaths, that is much more than I can ask for,"

Slick couldn't help but feel annoyed at this Jedi's serene demeanor, no matter what they had remained calm except for...

"Why don't you just use those loyal dogs of yours to push back against the scrap bots?"

"It surely would be faster," Slick almost smiled when he noticed the slight tick on the Jedi's lip and how the tail around him squished him lightly but just as fast as it had come it left.

"As I said, it will prevent many deaths, and please, do not refer to my men like that," The Jedi answered calmly and serenely, even giving him a patient smile as if dealing with a tubbie.

.....It sickened Slick to his core.

Next>>

AN: So I may have shifted Slick's interest a bit, instead of being "I hate all jedi except you" I'm going more for as sort of more "I hate but I also want you"

[mrs-mikko-rantanen]

Ferret sighed, climbing out of his truck. He crossed to the shotgun door and opened it with a bit of a grunt and a head jerk towards the house. The gesture was totally unnecessary, though. Azog bounded out of the truck with a loud, happy bark; tripping over his own paws as he rushed to the front door.

"Azzie!" Ferret smiled at his mother's voice, pitched up a few octaves as she greeted the big dog.

"Hey Mama." He leaned over Azog, thankful for his own good balance as Azog excitedly wriggled between them still, barking again. "Sorry to drop by so suddenly."

"Oh, nonsense. Come inside, really." Maureen kept a gentle hold on her son's elbow, reaching down and patting Azog again. Once inside, Azog flopped down with a loud sigh on the tile in the kitchen, and Ferret stepped over him to sit at the counter.

"So what brings you two by?" Maureen asked, setting about the kitchen.

Ferret shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Well... I was actually wondering if you could maybe keep an eye on Azog for a while?"

"How long?"

Ferret glanced down at his dog. "I'm actually not sure. It's gonna be a while though...a few months maybe? Its ok if you can't, I can take him to a kennel or something too..."

Maureen looked up now, confusion and worry on her face. "Ferret, what is going on?"

"It's uh. It's a job." He finally admitted. He never liked talking about this sort of thing with his mom. He felt like a complete failure anytime it came up.

"Are you driving something out of town? How far are you going?"

"Actually I'm--" he considered not telling her anything. Lying even more. But just the idea made his stomach flop. "I'm holding some... cargo... For a friend. It's really important and it's going to take a lot of focus and i don't want Azog getting into it or getting forgotten while I deal with it."

Maureen nodded a little as she returned to her work. "I assume this means this is probably the last I'll see you for God knows how long too then?"

Ferret's heart sank as he nodded. "Yeah. I'll be running radio silent too, no contact. I'll check any voicemails you leave, but unless it's an emergency, don't expect a response from me."

He wanted to cry. He hated this. But Marin needed help, and this was huge. It was important. There was no way around this.

"Ok. Just promise me you'll be safe?"

"Oh c'mon Ma, obviously. This isn't my first rodeo, ya know."

"I know. But it's my job to worry about you."

"I know."

There was a painfully long silence as Ferret tried to think of any excuse for him to stay here just a little longer. But nothing came to mind.

"Should I tell the girls, or will you?"

"Um. If you could... I'm sorry. Adi'll get it, she won't ask too many questions or anything. But if Ash asks...." he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, "Just tell her I'm working. And don't let either of them come out to my place, it's going to be--" he caught himself just before saying anything regrettable. "Just tell them not to come out. And you shouldn't either."

"Ok."

Ferret stood up, blinking back tears and pulling his mother into a hug. "Thanks, Mama. Sorry about all of this. I just got the call this morning. I've gotta leave right away to get there in time. I'll make it up to you when I get back."

"Drive safe, Baby."

"Oh always."

"I love you."

"Love you too, Ma. Give my love to the girls, too."

He kissed her on the cheek, then hurried out to his truck once more. He was still crying half an hour later, when he crossed the state line.

[googoojeu]

you and me and one hell of a shitty world || yang jungwon x gn!reader

; the world already ended, but jungwon's admiration for you hasn't

genre: fluff, angst (if you squint), post apocalyptic world

note: two am thoughts, i apologise for grammar mistakes, lea is sleepy rip (also i think i got carried away... oops) also the ending kinda sounds meh but i tried to work it out so im sorry 😭 also wasn't proofread,,, i'll fix some mistakes in the morning yeet

warnings: cursing, reader asks jungwon if he wants to die

— 🎧 :: song recommendation

[ wild nothing — chinatown ]

— :: lowercase intended !

tagging: @skyaura-koo

"let's get out of here."

you flinch at the sudden contact of jungwon's hands on your shoulders. you glare at the boy before letting out a groan. "are you nuts? heeseung's going to be mad at us, besides we're on look out." you don't miss the way his nose wrinkles at your words. meet yang jungwon, the little rascal with a scar on his nose, hands and fingers full of bandages and cat-like eyes that were to die for. he'd probably be the boy of your dreams if the world didn't sadly end on a wednesday. "screw him, you haven't been happy since we rescued you." you let out a scoff. funny enough, jungwon went to your school. class president, student council leader, taekwondo athlete, good grades and hoards of fangirls on his tail, but not once did you see him at your school. probably because you both lived in different worlds despite being in the same time and space. and to be frank, you weren't an insider nor an outsider. you were just a neutral human being that was trying to live through the hell, fate was giving to you. "how do you know i wasn't "happy" before you rescued me?" jungwon playfully rolls his eyes before flicking your forehead. "we used to go to the same school (name), you seemed uninterested most of the time." you let out another groan. "okay first of all, ouch. second, fuck you. third, do you wanna die?" jungwon chuckles. "well anyways, come on. it's just one night, it won't hurt right?" he says as he extends his hand to you, hope glimmering in his eyes. he gently nods his head as if saying, 'take my hand, i know you wanna do it' and you did.

"a grocery store? really? that's the best thing you could think of?" you complained as jungwon drags you to the canned goods section. "better than nothing sweet pea." he winks at you before taking what was left on the shelves. you roll your eyes at him before roaming your eyes at the destroyed appliances inside the room. god, how you missed the world when it was okay. "you good?" you hear jungwon ask. "yeah, just... just missing the world." you reply with a small voice. jungwon stops himself and looks at your back facing his. jungwon admired you a lot, even before the world decided to stop existing for a long time. you were nice, fully capable of doing things on their own, but you always looked unapproachable. with the signature scowl on your face, jungwon decided to just not bother you. he sighs, putting down the can of baked beans he was trying to fit in his bag that was now full. he marches towards you, takes out the radio he's had since he was a kid and a copy of "wild nothing's chinatown" and gives it to you. "play it and loosen up." you stared at him with wide eyes but obliged nonetheless. the song starts and as it echoes through the walls of the empty grocery store, jungwon started dancing. his moves were fluid like water, sharp like a knife and when the moment he grabs your hands to twirl you around, you feel your heart beat faster and the butterflies on your stomach start to form. he let's out a shout when you accidentally step on his foot. "i don't dance jungwon!" he just laughs and continues to grab your hands to loosen you up. "god i wish zombies were real so they could eat you." you grumble. "too bad they don't." you stuck your tongue out before removing your hands from his grip. as the song ends and starts again, you start to feel the rhythm and decided to just, why not fuck it? and dance. jungwon stares at you in amazement. he never saw you dance or that big smile on your face that you were wearing at the moment. he smiles fondly at you. ni-ki would probably call him a simp if he was there.

"if the world didn't end, i'd probably take you out on a date."

you stopped dancing and faced him. both of you staring at each other in embarrassment. the song continues to play as jungwon scratches his nape, a habit he does when he's in an awkward situation. you let out a scoff and a small smirk started to form on your face. "is yang jungwon flirting with me right now?" his face falls. "ha! you wish! anyways let's go back, heeseung's probably looking for us." he grabs the radio and turns it off, the song stops midway, the empty grocery store is dead silent again. as jungwon makes his way out, you link your arms with his and playfully punch his shoulder. "you could've just asked me out, i'd definitely say yes." he looks at you one more time before opening the broken door of the broken building. "even if the world already ended?" you nodded. "even if the world already ended."

[sunflowerim]

I LOVE YOU 3000!

-PART 41

Harry was shook. It's like every good thing that had been happening came crashing down at once. And he couldn't even tell Louis. He'd understand. Of course he would, but he'd also get mad at his manager and he couldn't afford to see what would happen if Louis told his manager off.

How was he supposed to spend time with Louis and hide something this big? Louis would see right through him.

Harry checked the contract that was mailed to him. 2 month contact. Ends after the Oscars.

He had to manage everything for two months. He just didn't have a choice. He'd probably have to avoid Louis for the time being.

Tears welled up in his eyes at the mere thought of it. Harry had begun to feel like Louis was somewhat his family, and Louis came with the package of two adorable kids and a furry friend, who absolutely loved Harry. He couldn't do this alone. Harry really needed to see Louis, to hug him, to feel the assurance that no matter what, Louis wouldn't be mad. With a hard heart, he discarded that thought and at once set off for Niall's apartment- the only person he could turn to at this moment.

He crashed into Niall's apartment and over a tub of ice cream told him everything that had happened.

Niall was furious.

"How dare he? I could talk about his bitchy attitude on the radio and we'll see how THAT affects him."

"No Niall," Harry said between hiccups. He'd been crying for too long, "don't do anything. He told me not to tell anyone. And I suppose it'll be normal after 2 months."

"2 months Harry. You do realise that's long. 2 months brought you and Louis closer than ever and the same time could ruin things too."

"Don't say that," Harry whispered, breaking down again.

"I'm sorry Harry," Niall said, wrapping Harry in a comforting hug, "but you should talk to him-"

"I can't-"

"Then how do think you'll go on about this?"

"Perhaps I really need to cut down our interactions for a while."

"Not to be that person, but don't you think after yesterday, Louis will be expecting more of your presence?"

"I'll tell him I have work. I'll do anything. I don't want his career to come to harm because of me."

"I appreciate that Harry, but do you think you guys can talk it over?"

"No Ni, I just can't tell him about this."

"Okay okay," Niall continued in a soothing voice. "In that case I won't ask you anymore. Now let's bake something. It always gets your mind off things."

-

In the two days that followed, Louis actually got really busy at work, and Harry didn't have to make excuses for staying away. Although Louis did ask if Harry could come over and stay the night, but Harry excused himself saying that he was visiting his sister and so Louis didn't suspect a thing.

-

But on Wednesday, things changed a bit. Louis got off work in the evening and asked Harry if he wanted to grab pizza. Harry couldn't come up with a good excuse in time and truth be told, he didn't want to. He was already miserable and wanted to see Louis badly. Louis agreed to meet Harry at his house and when he finally reached Harry's door, he was surprised.

"What is all this?" Louis teased, "hoodie, beanie, sunglasses, mask, were going for pizza Harry, not to some mission as undercover agents."

"Oh I know, it's just, paps seem to get everywhere and I'm kinda tired, so-"

"Aw you poor thing, come here."

Louis spread his arms and Harry enveloped him in an instant, hugging Louis like his life depended on it. He didn't wanna let go, for the fear of not being able to do this again was eating him from inside.

Louis seemed to sense it.

"Everything okay Haz?" he asked, stroking Harry's curls. Harry's face was buried in Louis' neck and he hummed in response and Louis hugged him tighter.

After what felt like an eternity, Harry finally let go.

"Leave your car here. Let's walk."

Louis smiled but his brows furrowed the slightest. Harry seemed off.

They slowly walked down the lane to the pizza place 2 blocks away, their held hands swinging between them.

Louis tried to ask Harry if anything was bothering him, but Harry shoved it away, saying it's nothing and he was just tired.

For a moment Louis wondered if Harry regretted last night and was slowly distancing himself because of that. But that couldn't be right. Harry wouldn't be walking with him if he really did regret that.

Putting his worries aside, he tried to focus on the perfect weather and thought about staying back at Harry's place. Maybe some cuddles could make Harry feel better.

As they approached the destination, they suddenly heard some squeals. Looking to their right, they saw an excited bunch of people in the park next to the restaurant, running in their direction. They'd apparently spotted Harry over the fence and it surprised Louis how they'd managed to recognise him in this get up. Louis knew Harry was tired and tried to tug Harry inside quickly but to his surprise, Harry shook his hand free of Louis and stepped back. Louis was taken aback. If he could see Harry's eyes, he'd probably understand how apologetic Harry was, but those were hidden behind his shades.

"You go ahead, I'll come in a while."

Louis nodded and left, unable to give a proper reply, head clouded by a thousand thoughts.

Before disappearing inside the restaurant, Louis turned around once and saw Harry, mask off, talking to the fans and taking pictures, a smile plastered on his face.

He ordered a milkshake for him as he waited for Harry to join him.

As much as he tried not to think about what happened, it all kept coming back.

Why did Harry leave his hand like that? People already knew they were friends, it wouldn't have been a big deal.

Was Harry embarrassed of Louis?

Did he not want to be spotted with him?

Did Louis do something wrong?

Louis racked his brain to think of something he might have done that could upset Harry, but nothing came to mind.

The minutes were getting longer and Louis was growing impatient waiting for Harry.

His worst fears came to action when he got a call from Harry.

"Hey Lou," he panted, sounding exhausted.

"Harry, where are you? It's been almost thirty minutes, are they not leaving?"

"There's been a bit of problem, they weren't leaving, so I had to tell them that I'm heading back home. I didn't wanna crowd the restaurant. So I walked back towards home."

"Wha- are you kidding me?"

"I'm really sorry Lou, I'll make it up to you I promise. Please don't be mad."

Louis could feel Harry was lying, because the excuse was downright stupid.

Maybe his concerns were actually right. Maybe Harry was indeed avoiding him.

Louis cut the call with an abrupt "Yeah." He didn't know what to feel. Harry had left. Just like that. He was obviously upset at the fact that Harry was avoiding him, but he was more mad at himself. Why did he expect so much from Harry? Louis was clearly not Harry's type.

He tried to reason with himself, thinking that there surely must be a misunderstanding, something that was going on that Louis wasn't aware off. With the little hope he had left in him, he stood up and left for home. At least he's got Cliffy.

Harry, a sobbing mess, went straight to Niall's. He silently hoped Louis wouldn't be mad at him. He knew he'd upset Louis and that's the last thing he'd planned on doing but Harry didn't really have a control over things happening in his life anymore.

As if things could get any worse, even Niall wasn't home and his phone was out of reach. So Harry waited. It was an hour before Niall arrived and found Harry at his doorstep.

"Jesus, what happened?"

Harry burst into a sob upon seeing Niall and between hiccups and sobs managed to tell Niall everything.

"I told you to talk to him Harold. Avoiding him isn't a solution."

Niall let them inside and eventually stopped talking about it. Instead he made Harry a cup of hot chocolate and they both watched re-runs of How I Met Your Mother on the telly in silence.

Back in his apartment, Louis ate his dinner quietly and went to bed early. He didn't have a proper word to describe how he was feeling.

Last weekend had been so special. What changed.

He logged in to twitter from his burner account before going to sleep and the first post he saw, turned his emotions around pretty quickly.

Harry looked happy. Not uncomfortable, as he seemed with Louis. Maybe Louis was the problem.

For a brief second he wondered if he should talk to Zayn or Liam about it but then decided against it because Louis didn't like discussing problem of these type. If there was a misunderstanding, Harry and Louis would figure it out themselves.

PREVIOUS / NEXT

INTRO