#Like christ ill start t i get it i have a high voice but maybe you could like chill on the assumptions plz and thank you cishet women

[surpriserose]

I have to make a stupid bio for a group project i hate writing about myself thoooooo im just some guy i have cats leave me alone you dont need to know shit about me and you definitely dont need a selfie of me

[weirdprophetess]

been seeing people talk about Ethel Cain a lot and had chills the entire time i watched her perform Morning Elvis with Florence so I'm playing Preacher's Daughter for the first time and writing notes as I go

fair warning this is an incredibly long post

first of all i have to say i love this album cover the dark warm browns are gorgeous and really give off that rural small town vibe and i read a few articles about her so i know she grew up in a place like that and the album title is describing her because her dad was a deacon of the church her and her family grew up in

the basssss the bass starting family tree ooooooohhhhh i love that

these crosses all over my body remind me of who i used to be and christ forgive these bones im hiding from no one successfully jesus can always reject his father but he cannot escape his mothers blood W H A T

THE BEATSSS THEYRE SO DARK AND DRAMATIC AND ATMOSPHERIC IM SCREAMING IM ONE MINUTE IN AND THIS IS MAYBE THE BEST ALBUM INTRO IVE EVER HEARD

my brain chemistry has already been altered i instantly need this on vinyl

loveee the guitar starting off american teenagerrrrrr

the suspended vocalization tooooooo)(U*U@PIHF@

i love love love her voice its so rich and she does deep and high notes both so amazingly welllllllll screaming

the melody the flow of the lyrics the beat the synthy floaty sounds im deadddd i love thissss i want to rip it apart like soft hot bread and eat ittttt

SAY WHAT YOU WANT BUT SAY IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT WITH YOU F I S T S FOR ONCE

MAIN CHARACTER TYPE SONG I LOVE THE IRONY I LOVE TEH SADNESS IM GOING TO WALK AROUND TO THIS SO MUCH THAT IS ONE OF THE HIGHEST HONORS I CAN GIVE A SONG @mothercain YOUR HAND IN MARRIAGE BITCHHHH

I HAVE FINISHED TWO SONGS AND ITS ALREADY MY NEW PERSONALITY TIME TO HYPERFIXATE FOR MONTHS AND LET IT TAKE OVER THIS WHOLE FUCKING BLOG

THE SUSPENDED PIANO NOTES FOR HOUSE IN NEBRASKA???? Y E S

THE ECHOEY VOCALS MAKE ME INSANE IM CLAWING AT THE WALLS RENDING MY GARMENTS GNASHING MY TEETH OH MY GODDDDDD

I STILL CALL HOME THAT HOUSE IN NEBRASKA WHERE WE FOUND EACH OTHER IN A DIRTY MATTRESS ON THE SECOND FLOOR WHERE THE WORLD WAS EMPTY SAVE YOU AND I WHERE YOU CAME AND I LAUGHED AND YOU LEFT AND I CRIED WHERE YOU TOLD ME EVEN IF WE DIED TONIGHT THAT ID DIE YOURS

YOU KNOW I STILL WAIT AT THE EDGE OF TOWN PRAYING STRAIGHT TO GOD THAT MAYBE YOULL COME BACK AROUND I HAVE FULL BODY CHILLSSSSSS

THE ROCK GUITAR SMASHING IN AND BEING SO CRUNCHY GODDDDDDDDD

He's never looked more beautiful on his Harley in the parking lot breaking into the ATMs sleeping naked when it gets too hot from what ive heard people say about Lana Del Rey's music this sounds like she might've been an influence

show me how much i mean to you while im lying in these sheets undressed id hold the gun if you ask me to but if you love me like you say you do would you ask me to troubles always gonna find you baby but so will i crying only because im happy hold me across every state line im never gonna leave you baby even if you lose whats left of your mind cause you know ill be right there beside you riding through those western nights

ooh there's another song called family tree the first one was family tree (intro) but there's track five without (intro) delicious

oohhhhhooohohoho same first two lines but then new lyrics

give myself up to him in offering let him make a woman out of me ooooh hoo hoo hooooo

so family tree is a banger

i immediately thought emo cowboy on hearing those lyrics and google actually gave me that so thank you whoever made this image because its truly the essence of this album

the next one is hard times and the first thing i thought of was paramore ive been obsessed with that song lately

nine going on eightaayynn lay it on meeeeeeheeeeheeeee yessssss

im tiiiiired of you too tiiiiired to leave im tiiiired of you still tiiiiied to meeeee

I MET YOU THERE IN TEXAS

MY ASS WHO LIVES IN TEXAS👀👀👀

i met you there in texas somewhere on the thoroughfare on the side of the road with a pistol in my pocket i didnt trust no one but you said baby dont run ill take you anywhere

AND YOU SAID HEY DO YOU WANNA SEE THE WEST WITH MEEEHEEEEEE CAUSE LOVES OUT THERE AND I CANT LEAVE IT BEEEEEE AND I SAID HONEY LOVES NEVER MEANT MUCH TO ME BUT ILL COME WITH YOU IF YOURE SURE ITS WHAT YOU NEED

love love lovvveeeeee the beat that comes in a bit before that part

sad cowgirl winter lets go girls

i am halfway through this album and ive made more notes than i have for some albums twice the length thats how good 13 track albums always are

its not a real cowboy album if youre not spending the last two minutes of a nine and a half minute song just vocalizing

oh the nexts songs called gibson girl ive heard of that but i forgot what it is hang on

a type of drawing by a man named Charles Gibson of the ideal woman of the 1890s ooh should be interesting

the intro for this songgggg

the production is the fucking besttttt

the echoes for this one too yesss i love this shitttt

i dont even know what image to put this over but just youre all the same black leather and dark glasses pourin another while i shake my ass hes cold blooded so it takes more time to bleed obsession with the money addicted to the drugs says hes in love with my body thats why hes fucking it up

the guitar breakkkkkkk:PO(*&^%$^;l;pqokpiaw

next ones name is ptolemaea so lemme go look that up too

oh yeahhh that greek astrologer dude okay

ooh the distortion in the beginningggg

the intensity building is so horror-like i love it

the screech on the last stop made me jump a lil goodbye

I am the face of loves rage what the fuck

the guitar and drums all getting more intense after that line remind of of the end of I Know The End by Phoebe Bridgers ill take ten million more songs with that please

the entire ending um???

its a good thing i decided to listen to this album around noon and not the middle of the night because i love demonic speaking parts but not when my eyes arent adjusted to the dark girl

ooh august underground is an instrumental i went to look up the lyrics and apparently its named after a horror film trilogy so ill probably check that out soon

televangelism is also purely instrumental and genius says its ethels ascent to heaven as music god this sounds gorgeous

what i wouldnt give to be in church this sunday listening to the choir so heartfelt all singing god loves you but not enough to save you so good luck on your own baby so i said fine cause thats how my daddy raised if they strike one once then you just hit em twice as hard but in the end the fire bent under the weight they gave me and this heart would break and fall twice as far eating these lyrics

WE ALL KNOW HOW IT GOES THE MORE IT HURTS THE LESS IT SHOWS BUT I STILL FEEL LIKE THEY ALL KNOW AND THATS WHY I COULD NEVER G O BACK HOME E T H E L THERE IS NO NEED TO EXPOSE ME LIKE THIS???

SO I MET HIM THERE AND TOLD HIM I BELIEVE SINGING IF ITS MEANT TO BE THEN IT WILL BE AND I FORGIVE IT ALL AS IT COMES BACK TO ME IM STILL PRAYING FOR THAT HOUSE IN NEBRASKA BY THE HIGHWAY OUT ON THE EDGE OF TOWN DANCING WITH THE WINDOWS OPEN I CANT LET GO WHEN SOMETHINGS BROKEN ITS ALL I KNOW AND ITS ALL I WANNA KNOW

one more song i have no idea what to say

freezer bride, your sweet divine look i have been obsessed with the locked tomb for over a year im not going to NOT think of Alecto when i see this

when my mother sees me on the side of a carton in winn-dixie's dairy aisle like the one promo picture for this right

and arlington's in texas👀👀👀

f.inisheddd thea lbum(*&#!OHPI#!HFo

wow what the hell was that im going to obsess over it forever

if there is not a colored vinyl of this i am going to fucking murder someone this deserves something gorgeous for me to stare at while its playing

in conclusion i cannot in any way let my religious mother know im trying to get this album so im going to work with my friend who helps me get explicit/gay music my mom wont let me because spotifys alright but i need to listen to this on my little portable cd player with headphones on full blast on the floor in the middle of the night because truly every album experience is better that way but especially shit like this

ethel if youre reading this how the everloving FUCK is this your debut album this literally deserves a grammy we all know they havent been shit for a while but if you dont get one for this im going to maul the entire Academy for real. keep doing weird shit i literally heard about you from Morning Elvis with Florence, my number one weird music woman and her taste has not failed me yet, especially not after an hour of being immersed in this

[emerald-chaos]

Daydream

**gif not mine! credit to the owner**

So, I couldn't help myself. This is a continuation of my previous Bucky fic Insomnia because I just really enjoyed the dynamic between Bucky and the reader. I had a lot of fun writing this part and I love building things up between the two of them. If you guys like this or are interested in seeing more - please let me know! I love talking with people and hearing their ideas and such.

Much love xo.

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 2079

Warnings: cursing, struggles with mental illness, mentions of sex (nothing entirely explicit but better safe than sorry), alcohol use, and really poorly written jokes lmao

Fingers threaded into hair.

Hot, opened-mouth kisses marking every surface of your neck.

Nails trailing down his back leaving raised, red lines in their wake.

“Oh my god,” you groaned as you let your head fall back and continued to rock your hips into the man in front of you.

Strong hands tighten their hold on your hips, sure to leave purplish-blue bruises for the morning.

“C’mon, baby,” he grunted, face buried in your neck as he helped your body to grind against his, “I got you. Let go, fuck, let go for me.”

A pair of slender fingers snapped in front of your line of sight, tearing you from your daydream and bringing you harshly back to reality.

“Hmm, what was that?” You blinked a few times before you turned your attention to the redhead who you, apparently, had been having a conversation with.

“Are you serious?” She laughed, “I’ve been talking for the past 10 minutes! I looked over and you had that far off, glossy look in your eyes. Not to mention you’re bleeding.”

A hand found its way to your lower lip and you realized she was right. You had been so lost in wet dreamland that you chewed a layer of skin off of your lip. You hoped she didn’t notice the heat rising in your face as you cleared your throat, grabbing a tissue from the coffee table.

“Sorry,” you muttered, pressing the tissue against your injured lip, “guess I got lost in thought.”

“Is it one of those flashbacks again?” She asked kindly, facial expression softening.

You nodded quickly, knowing fully well that the statement was a lie. Your gaze drifted over the woman’s shoulder to the subject of your previous thoughts. It would be easier to explain the common occurrence of your PTSD than it would be to explain that you were reminiscing on the hot, steamy, passionate sex you had the night before.

Bucky was situated across the room, leaning against the counter as he talked to Rogers and Wilson. The unfortunately tight, black, short-sleeve t-shirt he was wearing left nothing to the imagination. It accentuated every muscle of the body you had gotten to know so intimately not more than 10 hours ago. His muscular arms were crossed at his chest and he was sporting his signature scowl. Everything about the sight sent a shiver down your spine. You finally had a taste and you wanted more.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Your friend’s voice gained your attention once more.

A small smile found its way to your lips as you met her gaze again. Apart from Bucky, Nat had always been a good trauma buddy of yours. From the beginning she had been someone you felt like you could confide in and someone who would understand your troubles. Sometimes you wondered if a requirement of joining the avengers was to have a fucked up, tragic backstory.

“I’m okay, Nat.” You reassured, “Just got lost in my head again.”

“Whatever you say. Maybe the party tonight will help you get your mind off of things,” She mused as she pushed herself from the couch to stand up. She paused briefly before she turned to you again, “you are coming, right?”

“Yeah,” you snorted, “Tony actually threatened me if I didn’t go this time, so, I guess I have to.”

After the last party you skipped out on, Tony cornered you in the hallway and gave you quite the interrogation. Then he went on a spiel about how staying in your room all day and all night was bad for you and that if he didn’t know better he would think you weren’t appreciative of what he’d done for you and blah, blah, blah. Tony really was a good person underneath all that hair gel. All he wanted was to help you break out of your shell and give you the family he knew you were lacking. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be a pushy asshole.

“Good, I’ll see you there. I’m sure Barnes will too.” A devilish grin painted her lips as she watched your jaw drop. Before you had a chance to say anything she was off down the hallway.

Fuckin’ Natasha.

*******

A pile of clothes littered your bed as you slipped another dress over your form. Not once in your life had you ever been concerned about what you were wearing or what you looked like, but there was something about tonight that made you want to turn heads. Your eyes raked down your figure as you twisted from side to side, admiring the way the black dress hugged your body in all the right places. Not to mention the thigh high slit in the dress showed off probably the only body part you weren’t self-conscious about. Tony, being the theatrical and over the top man he was, once said that you shouldn’t show up to his parties if you weren’t dressed to court a royal or to bring a man to his knees. Guess you were shooting for the latter.

As you put the finishing touches on your look for the evening, you felt that familiar heavy feeling settling into your chest. Your body always had a tendency to go into fight or flight mode when you became too familiar with anything or anyone. It felt like every fiber in your body was screaming for you to retreat into sweats and stay in your room, to not allow yourself this opportunity to enjoy the people you’d grown so close to. You know what happens when you let people in.

Grief, trauma, coping - it made it really difficult to live a “normal” life. Everyday tasks are daunting, it can be next to impossible to have intimate friendships or relationships, and not to mention the intrusive thoughts that infect your mind on a daily, if not hourly, basis. Here you were, the happiest you’d been in years. You were finally in a place where you felt loved, comfortable, safe - and yet your mind was trying to self-sabotage again.

You took a moment to close your eyes and take several deep breaths. When you opened your eyes you locked eyes with your reflection in the mirror and made a pact with the girl staring back at you. The intrusive thoughts and self-doubt couldn’t continue to have a hold over you anymore. You gave yourself a small smirk and nod as you made the decision to throw caution to the wind and give the party a try. What’s the worst that could happen?

*******

Come to find out, the worst that could happen would be your competitive nature overcoming the rational, thinking part of your brain; which in turn would lead you to enter in a drinking contest. Thankfully a small portion of your pink, smooth brain was still functional enough to tell you when you’d reached your limit. Now you sat comfortably on the couch, legs tucked underneath you as you joyfully watched your friends argue.

“Dr. Banner, my friend, you are one of the most intelligent people I know. However, you are wrong.” Thor stated simply as he finished the rest of his drink.

“Thor, for the last time, water is not wet!” Bruce retorted, throwing his hands up in frustration.

You let out a loud snort before thinking, “Oh yeah, water. I should drink some water.”

Your feet planted themselves on the floor and slipped back into your pair of shoes. As you made your way to the kitchen you were pleasantly surprised by your balance and coordination, considering how much alcohol you’d consumed. Seems that drinking with Thor has done wonders for your tolerance.

While you were busy searching the refrigerator for a bottle of water, you were also oblivious to the soft sound of footsteps coming into the kitchen. After retrieving the beverage, you closed the door and turned to leave. Instead, you turned right into the chest of a figure that was definitely not there a moment ago. You yelped as you clutched a hand over your chest dramatically, your face filled with horror as though you’d just come face to face with the grim reaper.

“Jesus Christ, Barnes!” you scolded.

Bucky was holding his abdomen as he leaned back, consumed with laughter at your reaction. You huffed and wanted to be offended, but he looked so damn cute laughing that you couldn’t help but join him. You pushed his chest playfully and grumped as you hopped up to sit on the counter, opening the water to gulp about half of it down. Bucky couldn’t help but grin at your pouty state as he finished up his laughing fit.

“My apologies, sweets. Didn’t realize I’d be makin’ ya scream twice in one day.” He teased, grinning even wider as he did so.

Your jaw dropped at the comment, quickly looking around to make sure no one else was in the kitchen to hear what he had said. After seeing that the coast was clear you kicked your foot at him out of annoyance, only for his metal hand to catch it smoothly. The two of you locked eyes, motionless for a moment before he moved closer, sliding his hand from your ankle to your thigh. In the moment, you damned yourself for choosing this particular dress. The closer he got, the faster your breathing became. The contrast between his cold embrace and your flushed, warm skin sent a shiver down your spine. Abandoning the water bottle, you ran your hands up his abdomen and chest until they rested on his shoulders. Following a small nudge from his knee, you parted your legs to allow him space to stand between them. The heat in your face at an all time high as he pressed his flesh hand to your cheek.

“Haven’t been able to stop thinkin’ about you.” Bucky whispered as he stroked the apple of your cheek with his thumb. Each word that left his lips had you feeling way more intoxicated than any liquor you’d had all night.

As quickly as it started, his touch was gone and his back was turned as he opened the fridge. Before you had a chance to open your mouth to ask what the hell just happened, Tony was entering into the kitchen.

“Well, well, well. Surprised to see you here, Annie.” Tony beamed as he laid eyes on you.

Yes, Tony had nicknamed you after little orphan Annie. Yes, he also referred to himself lovingly as Daddy Warbucks. Yes, any person in their right mind would probably be offended, but you were just fucked up enough that you found it kind of hilarious.

“Wish I could say that it’s a pleasure, Tony.” You grumped back, upset that you’d been cockblocked and by Tony no less.

“Never lose that spunk, kid.” Tony winked as he turned to see Bucky retreating from the fridge with a beer in hand. “Inspector Gadget! Good to see you too.”

As much as you didn’t want to encourage him, you couldn’t help but laugh. Much to your dismay, Bucky simply raised his bottle to Tony as if to say “cheers” and padded out of the kitchen.

“He has such a way with words.” Tony teased as you rolled your eyes.

A sigh left your lips as you slipped off the counter and back onto the floor, muttering a “goodnight” before leaving the kitchen and heading back to your room. Although you wanted nothing more than to find Bucky and finish what he had started in the kitchen, you came to the conclusion that you were probably too drunk and definitely too tired.

Back in the comfort of your bedroom, you went about your normal nighttime routine. As you exited the bathroom, you couldn’t help but notice a piece of paper that had been slipped beneath your door. Grabbing the paper from the floor and plopping back onto your soft mattress, you opened it to read the note that was scribbled in black ink.

Never got the chance to tell you how gorgeous you looked tonight. Gotta say, I’m a big fan of that dress.

Sweet dreams.

- B.

When you finished the note, it felt as though you were floating on cloud 9. Even when you laid your head down and tried to welcome sleep, Bucky’s words were still replaying in your head over and over again - like they were lyrics to your new favorite song.

Turns out you were down for Bucky Barnes, and you were down bad.

[watermelonlipstick]

Septic

This was written as a request for anon, who asked:

I was wondering if I could request one with Dean. The reader's injury gets badly infected and she gets a high fever and they are stuck somewhere and can't go to the hospital (maybe a cabin during a snow storm or something else if you want?). Anyway her condition keeps getting worse and dean is doing everything he can to keep her alive? As for their relationship it's up to you, whether they're dating or hiding their feelings...?

I hope this is something along the lines of what you were thinking. I decided to go with a ‘hiding from Leviathans’ angle because that seemed the closest to canon compliant to me. Thanks in advance for reading; I would love any advice or critiques!!

Title: Septic

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2124

Summary: Unable to go to a hospital for fear of getting trapped by Leviathans, Dean tries his best to manage the reader’s worsening infection and fever. 

Warnings: fever, illness, swearing, implied threat of death, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff (maybe? if you squint)

           “Dude, I have a fever, I haven’t been decapitated. Can you stop pacing? Sam’ll be back in a couple days, I’ll take some Tylenol and sleep it off, we’ll be good as new in no time.”

           He glared down at you where you laid on Rufus’s couch with flared nostrils. “You’re shivering under every goddamn blanket in this place and it’s been 3 days already. We’re going to a hospital.”

           You rolled your eyes at him and tried to hide the way you snuggled deeper into the woolen bundle. “So dramatic. As if we wouldn’t get made walking in the door. And if you’re so worried about me, why don’t you make yourself useful and get me a hot water bottle and some tea?” You tried to give him your most casual smile in reassurance.

           Dean appraised you with a hard set to his jaw and a twinge of concern at his eyebrows for a moment before relenting. “Fuck, fine. One more day and if the fever hasn’t broken, then we’re going.” It was only a few steps to the kitchen, and you heard him putting a pot of water on to boil. “You sure I can’t just do coffee? I don’t know how you drink this stuff.”

           Like it always did, Dean’s aversion to tea made you laugh. “It’s literally just mint flavored water—you act like you haven’t drunk all kinds of potions and hangover cures.”

           “The fact that I have drunk all kinds of potions and hangover cures should show you how gross it is.” He tossed a hot water bottle covered in worn waxed canvas on top of your blankets and you shimmied it under your feet while he got the tea together. After a moment, he set the tea (and a plastic bear full of honey, which made you smile to yourself) on the coffee table next to you. “Can we at least watch something else? These chicks are driving me fucking nuts.”

           That made you laugh hard enough to shake loose the blanket corners tucked in under your chin. “You might be able to trick Bobby into thinking you don’t like the Real Housewives, but I’m not buying it for one second.”

           He shot you some side eye but didn’t protest, patting your feet in a signal to raise them so he could sit with your legs in his lap. You didn’t remember past the first few minutes of the next episode.

           “Hey, come on, you gotta drink something.”

           You squinted up at Dean, feeling the sickly stickiness of dried and re-soaked sweat in Dean’s stolen sweatshirt where it bunched around your neck. “You want me to sleep, you want me to wake up, pick a lane, asshole,” you tried to joke, feeling each word like a stab in your, well, stab wound. It took more focus than it should’ve too hold onto Dean’s face where he perched on the coffee table right in front of you.

           “You’ve been asleep for 16 hours, Rip Van Winkle. And you’re sweating like a whore in church, gotta rehydrate.”

           “Thanks, Nurse Ratched,” you croaked, carefully keeping your face neutral around the throbbing ache in your side as you sat up and accepted the bowl of broth from Dean. When his hands were free, he put the back of his hand to your forehead in a very maternal way that might’ve made you giggle if you weren’t in so much pain.

           Dean’s lips pressed into a tight line and he breathed a hard “fuck,” as he sat back. “Lemme see it.”

           “If you wanted to get me naked, all you had to do was ask,” you tried to joke.

           “No slick shit, I’m serious. The fever’s getting worse.” There wasn’t even a touch of playfulness in his tone, tight chord of anxiety clipping his words.

           “It’s going to be pink and raw like every other set of infected stit—”

           “Cooperate or don’t, but my bet is there’s no way you can slip out of getting pinned right now.”

           “Who knew you were so kinky, Dean?”

           He didn’t rise to the teasing at all, the just-this-side-of-friendly banter you normally had, and it made the nervous bile rise a few degrees in your throat. You eased back and slowly flipped down the blankets, immediately started shivering as you pulled up your damp layers to show him your stomach.

           It was worse than you’d thought it would be even before he tenderly pulled back the tape to see the injury itself, the gauze a mottled tie-dye of blood and greenish pus. The stitches strained against swollen, angry tissue oozing at the corners, and you looked away to hold onto a little denial that you weren’t completely fucked. “Jesus Christ, kid,” Dean murmured. He reached behind him for a bottle of rubbing alcohol and you didn’t even try to argue, hissing and grabbing his wrist when he poured it over the wound. Dabbing off the worst of the external mess with the moisture, you watched as his mind raced.

           You decided to try to grab the reins of the situation before he locked you both into a crazy plan. “Help me up, I want to take a shower. I feel disgusting.”

           “Can you even stand?”

           You rolled your eyes at him exasperatedly.

           “Roll your fucking eyes at me all you want, you look like Marvin the Martian. Can’t believe I let your dumb ass talk me out of taking you to a hospital.”

           “I’ve got a much better chance of beating a little infection than I do the combined force of however many Leviathans are looking for us and the full force of the federal government. Now get out of my way if you’re not going to help me up, I need a shower.”

           He pushed back the coffee table and watched you stand up, grabbing your arm and waist when you immediately swayed. “Goddamn it, sit back down, I’m getting your shoes.”

           “Dean. I am not going to a hospital. Especially not before Sam gets back. Not a negotiation. I just—you’re freaked out, I get it. I just need you to please let me call the play for once.”

           His jaw muscles tightened into firm balls and you could see the flare of panic behind his gaze as he flicked between your eyes. Ultimately he didn’t say anything, just giving you a tight nod and offering a hand to guide you up and to the bathroom. When you’d gotten there, he hovered in the doorway as you started to peel off layers, hoping that your leaning on the sink didn’t look as obvious as it felt. “Think I can take it from here, chief,” you offered, hoping he’d take the hint.

           “Not adding a head injury to this bullshit stew, sorry.”

           “No way, psycho. You’re not watching me shower.”

           His face screwed up in a scowl. “I’m not going to watch you shower, I’m just staying in here while you do in case you get dizzy again.”

           “Dude—”

           “Not a negotiation,” he growled, spinning your words back on you. You held each other’s stubborn gazes for a long beat before you gave in, getting in the tub and yanking the curtain closed with the rest of your clothes on, shucking the rest of them off and dropping them outside the tub behind the plasticized shield and curtain. You turned the water on and held onto the dial for support, hearing Dean’s movement in the bathroom as he sat down on the lidded toilet next to the shower. Laborious as it was, it felt a lot better getting clean. You’d started washing your hair when he started to talk.

           “You know what you’re asking me to do, right?”

           “Let me take a shower in peace?” You didn’t want to acknowledge the elephant in the room—what was the point?

           “If you’re not septic yet you will be in a day or two.”

           “By which time Sam will be back and you guys can strong arm some vet into giving me antibiotics like the mafiosos you fancy yourselves to be.”

           “Don’t deflect.” It was quiet but firm, and you blinked away the way your vision was starting to fuzz out at the edges. Something about it finally got you to drop the joking, if only for a second.

           “I know what I’m asking you to do.” You hoped he could hear the resolution in your voice.

           Dean was silent for a long enough beat that you thought maybe he hadn’t heard you, but you heard the roughness in his voice when he finally replied. “Please don’t make me?”

           The shower washed away a hot, stupid tear when it shot out of your eye like a kamikaze at his vulnerability. “I can’t be the reason you guys get caught.” You were clean now, but something about the confession-style quality of the shower curtain and the way it was letting both of you say what you really meant held you in the stream of water anyway.

           “I’m not—it’s going to fuck me up forever, you know that, right?” It was almost a grunt, the way Dean’s voice strained as he pleaded with you.

           “Long as you guys are alive.”

           He didn’t respond.

           After a long minute you felt your legs start to turn to jello. “You have something out there I can put on?”

           You heard him clear his voice, sticky and coarse. “Gimme a second.”

           A callused hand shot behind the shower curtain with a towel before Dean’s footsteps got quieter, and you tried your best to dry yourself off without stumbling. Not 15 seconds later, a bundle of clothes came in the same way. You smiled to yourself at your underwear and yoga pants with Dean’s t-shirt; he would’ve had to deliberately go into 2 different bags to get the clothes, no way it was an accidental grab. When you were dressed, you tugged the shower curtain back and didn’t argue when Dean wrapped his arm around your waist to ease you out of the tub, let him guide you back to the couch and fussily rearrange your blankets and pillows before he got out his first aid supplies.

           You watched his face as he worked on cleaning the wound again, knowing he just needed to be doing something, that he couldn’t just sit still and hope it got better. You could give him that, sat stock still even when it stung like a bitch and didn’t even tease him when he made you swallow a handful of vitamins as though that would help. Another cup of soup eaten silently and two mugs of tea later, your eyelids were beginning to droop again.

           “Tired?” he murmured, messing with the cover of the hot water bottle before ultimately getting up to refill it.

           “A little, yeah. Will you, um, will you sit with me?”

           Dean mercifully didn’t acknowledge the shake in your voice, nodding gently and sliding himself beneath you on the couch, tucking you under his arm and onto his chest, burrowing you both into the cushions. You reached your hand out of the blankets to place your palm over his heart, feeling the vibrating thrum of his pulse under your fingertips and cheek. His hand shifted so that he was smoothing the drying hair back from your temple, and after a few beats he bent his neck to kiss the crown of your head. The tenderness of it, the giving in to your request, pulled another tear out of your eye that fell straight into the cotton of Dean’ t-shirt underneath you.

           He sounded like he’d just woken up, that sleepy-syrupy sandpaper of a long night on his vocal cords. “You know, right? If it was going to be anyone for me, it would’ve been you?”

           The weight of it turned the blankets on top of you into a hug. You were nodding into him before you could speak, the tears turning your voice creaky-soft. “Same to you, dummy.” He chuckled once nostalgically at the ribbing, and you felt the rumble of it under you. “Thank you, Dean.”

           You felt the tension of the hiccupped breath before Dean got it under control to answer. “I love you, kid.”

           “Love you too.” It was the only thing to say, and neither of you had to answer or explain this undercurrent that had never been acknowledged so plainly before, no matter how rock solid it might’ve been for years. You laid there together for a long time, beating of Dean’s heart underneath you something constant to hold onto, warmth off his body better than any hot water bottle. The last thing you remembered before passing out was hearing Sam walk through the front door.

-

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

Tags: @sams-sass​ @vxnderlindes​ @deanwinchesterswitch​ @akshi8278​ @itsjensenanddean​ @flannellover67​ @weepingwillowphoenix​ @tj-drinks-tea​ @whatareyousearchingfordean​ @winchest09​ @winchestergirl2​ @samwisethegr8​ @nurse-sarahrn​ @lovers-in-japan-reign-of-love​ @deanwanddamons​ @stressedoutkitten​ @winchestershiresauce​ @tatted-trina6​ @percico-heronstairs​ @downanddirtydean​ @queenoftheunderdark​ @lyarr24​ @wonder-cole​ @that-one-gay-girl​ @fairlyspnfanfic​ @treat-winchesterswith-kindness​ @mimaria420​ @jensengirl83​ @zooaliaa​ @superfanficnatural​ @deangirl93​

And as always, if you want to be on my taglist, were on the taglist and changed your handle, or I lost track of it, please let me know!

[just-a-poor-boy-queen]

Part 33 of Jimercury Kid series

Jim couldn’t understand it. He was completely and utterly baffled.

He had spent the last few weeks watching what he ate, cutting back on higher calorie foods, restricting his sweets, sometimes skipping meals altogether and substituting them for tea or coffee. And yet, as he stood there in his bedroom in front of the mirror, hands struggling with the buttons of his trousers, it all seemed to be for naught.

He could barely fit into any of his clothes. His trousers wouldn’t button, his shirts strained against his chest and even his pyjamas seemed ready to tear at the seams the moment he put them on. He couldn’t understand it; he had tried, he really tried. Yet it seemed he had put on weight rather than lost it.

Freddie had got rid of the scales during his illness, as it depressed him too much to be reminded of how thin and frail he was becoming, so Jim was forced to rely on his own estimation. Given how nothing fit him anymore, it was clear that his current approach to losing weight wasn’t working.

He gave up fighting with the button and pulled the trousers off in frustration, tossing them across the room. He wrapped himself back up in his dressing gown, which seemed to be the only thing that he could breathe in and sat down on the bed in defeat. He couldn’t help but allow his mind to wander to darker thoughts; what if it kept getting worse? What if Freddie looked at him one day and was disgusted by what he saw? Someone as beautiful as Freddie deserved better. He would tell Jim to pack his bags and leave.

He knew he shouldn’t think of such things, but he couldn’t help himself. He had always been made to feel that he wasn’t good enough for Freddie and this only cemented the idea into his head.

And the worst part? His poor mood was making him crave a biscuit.

He groaned and flopped down onto the mattress.

--

‘I’m in big trouble.’

Phoebe couldn’t help but snigger with laughter as Freddie held up one of Jim’s shirts, which was now noticeably smaller than it had been before it went in the wash.

Recently, Freddie had become insistent on being more independent and enlisted Phoebe to show him how to use various items around the house, including the washing machine. In hindsight, Phoebe should have known that this impulsive venture was destined for disaster; of course, Freddie would insist on doing Jim’s washing to surprise him, and then whack the machine up to 60 degrees despite Phoebe’s warnings. And now Jim’s loosest T-shirt was more of a crop top if anything.

Freddie sighed and set the shirt down, folding it pointlessly. ‘On a scale on one to ten, how angry do you think Jim will be?’

‘For shrinking his entire wardrobe?’ Phoebe pretended to consider the question. ‘At least an eleven.’

This clearly wasn’t the right thing to say, as Freddie groaned and faceplanted onto the kitchen table.

‘Cheer up, you old tart.’ Phoebe grinned and gave the singer a nudge. ‘Jim can never stay cross with you for long. Just explain yourself and he’ll forgive you.’

‘I know he’ll forgive me – it’s the half an hour lecture I’m not looking forward to.’ The Persian grumbled and pushed his chair back. ‘Maybe I should take Khaleel up with me. He can’t shout at me if the baby is there.’

‘Using your child as a shield? That’s low even for you.’

‘Give over, Phoebe. You and Joe were happy enough to use Jim as a scapegoat when you were smuggling cats into the house, so don’t you lecture me about morals.’

Five minutes later, Freddie was warily ascending the staircase towards the master bedroom, a packet of custard creams in one hand and Khaleel scampering at his heels. He was mentally preparing himself for the severe scolding he would inevitably receive, but hopefully a few biscuits would sweeten Jim’s mood. Lord knows, the Irishman could use them; he had been eating so little recently, he was practically wasting away into nothing. (1/2)

‘Darling?’ Freddie called out softly as he pushed open the door, scanning the room until he located Jim lying flat out on the bed, staring at the ceiling. ‘Darling, we brought you something.’

‘Don’t come in.’ Jim replied groggily, not even looking up from where he was laying. ‘I’m hideous.’

Freddie chuckled, not picking up the sincerity in Jim’s tone as he stepped into the room, Khaleel immediately making a beeline for the bed. ‘Hey, that’s my line!’

‘We brought biscuits, Daddy.’ Khaleel said excitedly, bouncing onto the bed and sprawling on top of Jim, resting his chin on the man’s chest. ‘I’ve already had three, so Baba says the rest are for you.’

The mere mention of confectionary made Jim groan. ‘Please take them away. I’ll probably put on ten pounds just looking at them.’

‘What do you mean?’ Freddie asked, sitting himself down beside his husband and son. ‘I thought you liked custard creams.’

Jim gave a loud, heavy sigh, lifting a hand to gently pet Khaleel’s hair. ‘I’m fat.’

There was a brief pause as everyone took a moment to process those two words. Then Freddie chuckled loudly, only stopping when he realised Jim was serious.

‘You’re not fat, you silly fool!’ Freddie exclaimed, looking scandalised. ‘If anything, you could stand to eat more. There’s nothing of you these days!’

‘Oh, come on Freddie.’ Jim couldn’t help but snap, though he quickly lowered his voice when he realised that he had startled Khaleel. Their son hated it when they argued, and he quickly pressed a kiss against the little boy’s nose to reassure him. ‘I know for a fact that I’ve put on weight. I don’t fit into any of my clothes anymore. If that’s not proof, I don’t know what is.’

Freddie felt his cheeks begin to burn and he carefully placed the packet of custard creams out of Jim’s reach, in case the Irishman decided to use them as a weapon. ‘Ah…that might be my fault.’

Jim sat up, sitting Khaleel on his lap as he stared at Freddie in confusion. ‘How is it your fault?’

‘Well, I asked Phoebe to show me how to use some of the appliances around the house.’ Replied Freddie, playing with his fingers awkwardly. ‘And I wanted to surprise you by doing your laundry. But I might have turned the temperature up a little too high.’

Jim’s eyes went wide. ‘You shrunk my clothes?!’

‘In my defence, Phoebe is partially at fault for listening to me when I told him I knew what I was doing.’ Freddie dropped his gaze to his lap, peering up at Jim through his eyelashes. ‘I’m really sorry, darling.’

But Jim just started to laugh, though it sounded like he was on the verge of crying as well. ‘Jesus Christ, Freddie. You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that. I thought I was going to end up needing a forklift to get downstairs.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. There’s nothing wrong with your weight.’ Freddie said gently, leaning over and brushing a kiss against the man’s bearded cheek. ‘You’re perfect just the way you are, isn’t he, Kenny?’

‘I love Daddy’s tummy.’ Khaleel replied, giving Jim’s stomach a pat. ‘He’s like a big cuddly teddy bear!’

‘Exactly. He’s our teddy bear.’ Freddie kissed his husband again, rubbing his cheek against the man’s stubble. ‘So…are you cross with me?’

‘Of course I’m cross with you!’ Jim exclaimed, though he was cracking up as he spoke. ‘I have to invest in a whole new wardrobe now, thanks to your terrible laundry skills!’

‘I’ll take you shopping tomorrow, I promise.’ Freddie pouted and thrust the packet of biscuits under Jim’s nose. ‘Now, stop telling me off and eat my peace offering.’ (2/2)

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

Awwww haha I loved this!

Firstly, I love how you've explored any body image issues that Jim may have had, and how that tied to his insecurities of not being good enough for Freddie.

And oof, baby Jimbo was adorable.

And the worst part? His poor mood was making him crave a biscuit.

Awwww I love my Irish teddy bear so much😂💙

Also, lmao Freddie being absolute shit at using a washing machine, Phoebe's amusement at his friend's antics, and Freddie eventually blaming Phoebe for putting too much faith into him made me crack up😂😂😂 He's such a character, our Freddie.

(More drabbles by writer anon)

(All the parts of this series can also be found under the tag #freddie and jim and their baby on this blog)

[akumastrife]

strike the match // dream pack (trc)

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: just slutty business, swearing, dubious consent bc canon appropriate drugs Fandom: Raven Cycle

Relationships: the dream pack but everyone’s sharing Proko as K watches, as things should be

Back!! on my bullshit!!!! 

{Also on AO3}

The rowing team shirt was faded and ragged, tiny cigarette burns in one shoulder, and stretched entirely ill-fitting across Prokopenko’s broad chest.

It was never meant to fit. It wasn’t his.

The sleeves had been carefully cut off—speaking to Lynch’s theft of it from Gansey—and then the bottom half ripped off in a show of violence that could only hint at Proko’s subsequent theft of it when Lynch had left it last.

Three power play tug-o-wars to upset Kavinsky most.

By the way Proko’s lip was puffy and bleeding—wrapped slack around Kavinsky’s dick, relaxed between his knees, just breathing, jesus fucking christ—Swan thought maybe Proko was winning.

It was easier to stare too long at the disaster of a shirt, than at Proko himself with his busted mouth, wondering how good it’d feel.

Kavinsky scraped his thumb nail over the head of the match, already blackened and used up. It flared up again anyway, and he put it out against Proko’s shoulder. Another singed hole in the shirt. Swan had watched the cycle four times over already, primed for each spark.

“You just gonna gloat?” Jiang asked, accusation cutting quick through the heady lack of talking over the music, and the headier smoke filling the basement. It wasn’t quite pot. Too white, too fragrant, like a building smoldering in its own embers. Close enough for Skov, so it was good enough for Swan.

“Yeah, K, you got him looking so pretty,” Skov jeered. “How long it’d take you to train him like that?”

“Probably got him all doped up,” Jiang said.

Kavinsky said nothing; eyes saying nothing from behind those stupid white sunglasses. He took another drag on his joint, and then shifted his feet—the scrape of soles too loud for how the music rattled Swan’s bones—as he dragged Proko’s mouth off his dick by a hand in his hair.

Swan felt Skov wince in sympathy from beside him on the couch.

Proko gasped like he hadn’t breathed in hours, eyes fluttering and lips parted slack. It was such a damn shame he was so pretty. “Can I?” Proko asked, voice ragged and ruined already.

Kavinsky tugged him up to claim his mouth in a painful kiss, his own lips stained red when he pulled back. There was something… tender, in the soothing of his tongue along the cut in Proko’s lip. But that was all before he was releasing Proko and pushing him towards the two of them on the couch.

Jiang whined in disappointment.

“Fuck yeah,” Swan breathed and got up immediately to make room. His fingers twitched against his own thighs, wanting, eager, knowing to wait. He really wasn’t any better than Proko.

Were any of them?

He watched—eyes feeling too wide to match how his ribs cracked in expanding to make room for his lungs—as Proko slid over Skov’s sprawled thighs, folding himself down to let Skov have his mouth in a desperate kiss.

“Fuck,” slipped out on a groan. He adjusted himself through his sweats, glancing over at Jiang doing the same. “I wanna try his mouth.”

Skov glanced over Proko’s shoulder, pupils blown dark, stupid long lashes fluttering in that look of want Swan knew all too well. “What do you think, Proko?”

Proko moaned, high and breathy and utterly domesticated, what the fuck. Proko used to put up more of a fight, used to grin razor sharp and delight in tussling until he was put on his stomach and made to enjoy the surrender of it.

What the fuck had Kavinsky done to him?

He’d think about it later. Much later, he decided, as Proko staggered up and turned in Skov’s hands. He slid back, pupils and lips both parted around darkness and wanting, letting Skov handle him however he wanted. Gave into Skov’s spider-like fingers running eager up his ribs, down around his stomach and hips, like he was warming him up. Proko’s stomach tightened and flexed—eager.

Proko reached forward, hands clamping painfully tight around Swan’s hips to drag him forward, eyes trained on him with a single-minded focus that made Swan’s mouth bone-fucking-dry.

He groaned, knowing already he was doomed, and stepped up between both of their parted knees—Skov’s tilting out to push Proko’s more obscene—and fumbled at the worn knot of drawstrings, only looking at Proko, at Skov’s eyes flashing dark and hungry over Proko’s shoulder, at Jiang’s desperate reflection in the cracked mirror behind the sagging couch.

It was a fast and heady race between them to see who could get Proko first. Skov laughed brightly as he tugged at Proko’s cut offs, reaching under him to pinch Swan’s thigh as he pushed his sweats down. Swan swatted his clever hand away and then lost everything in a gut-punched curse, bowing over Proko’s mouth immediately around his dick.

“Jesus,” he hissed, nails biting into Proko’s shoulders. “Lemme fucking prepare myself, dude, fuck.” He hadn’t been ready; ready, yes, but it was fast and a shock and he was sensitive and Proko’d forgotten to not use his fucking teeth. He wasn’t like Jiang. He didn’t play like that. He preferred teeth in other parts of him, not his fucking cock, christ.

“Hurry up, then, and catch up,” Skov mumbled, rolling his eyes. He did something with his hands that had Proko whining and buckling at all his joints like a broken doll.

He had to stop thinking about Proko that way.

“How the fuck are you already—still?—slick, dude?” Skov said, split between awed and alarmed. He glanced up at Swan (looked up up up, eyes dark, teeth catching his bottom lip and farther to grab his snake bites—Swan wanted to fuck that mouth too. He would. After.) “I got four fingers in ‘im already, can you fucking believe?”

“What?” Jiang snapped. He struggled up and careened across the basement, crashing into the couch beside Skov and craning in to look. He inhaled fast and stuttering, tongue flicking out like he wanted a taste, tongue stud flashing in the low lighting, and Swan wanted to let him just so he could watch.

He fisted a hand in Proko’s hair, humming pleased at how Proko whined immediately at the pull, sinking farther down, taking all of him, and swallowed several times until Swan was seeing stars.

“Fuck, K, does he not have a gag thing anymore?” Swan asked. He locked his knees, hitching his hips forward, and rolled his head on his neck to look over at Kavinsky. At their king. But in the way a monster might sit above a fae court, volatile and untouchable.

He had to stop listening to Jiang ramble about his fantasy books.  

He couldn’t see Kavinsky’s eyes, but he felt him looking back all the same. “You must’ve really worked on him.”

Kavinsky said nothing; chapped lips curling around the joint again and face turning to fix on Proko rocking back on Skov’s fingers, the sharp arch of his back

Judging, maybe.

Measuring his form to some standard Swan never wanted to know. K’s brows furrowed slightly. Dragged his thumb over the spent match head (Proko’s tongue dragged devastatingly over his slit.) His thumb was nearly as black.

“I’ll have him gagging,” Skov warned, and snapped Proko back by the hips, pulling him down onto his dick. Proko flinched and slid off Swan’s dick with a gut-punched sound so wounded that Swan almost came on the spot with nothing more than the flat of Proko’s tongue.

Skov swore low and drawn out, eyelashes fluttering. And then sunk his teeth into the back of Proko’s shoulder.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Jiang whispered, fumbling his pants off and peeled one of Proko’s hands off Swan’s hips to put it in his own lap, groaning loud and obscene. Not even the thumping music could cover it.

“Loud bitch,” Swan muttered, meeting Skov’s eyes and jerking his chin at him. Skov grinned, glittering sharp like a viper, and stuffed his fingers into Jiang’s mouth.

“Don’t be a bitch and bite,” Skov snapped. He didn’t have to. Jiang probably wasn’t even listening anymore.

Swan snorted. He pulled Proko back onto his dick, watching Skov more than anything. “How’s he?”

“Like a fuckin’ dream,” Skov groaned.

Out of the corner of his eye, Swan saw K smile. Just a flicker. Maybe that was just the hazy air.

Swan rocked his hips faster, bending over Proko to catch Skov’s mouth in a slick kiss. He felt Skov starting to smile, taunting, that asshole, and bit his lip to head that shit right off. He liked kissing Skov, fucking sue him, and he tasted better when he was getting his dick wet.

Thick smoke rolled over them, snaking into nose and mouth, and Swan nearly choked on it. Kissed Skov to keep from coughing: harder, meaner, greedier. Tried to forget about Kavinsky watching and couldn’t; felt his eyes on them like claws into flesh. The smoke was sweeter, musky. Rotting wood, maybe, or something that smelled like desperation and hunger.

He bit into Skov—

He was so hungry. For Proko’s tight throat and Skov’s pierced mouth. For violence and the simmering heat that bloomed whenever he put someone on their back. Arousal built on itself, climbing up his spine and pulling taut as wire.

“You just gonna sit there?” Swan asked, harsh and breathless. He glared over at Kavinsky. Hitched his hips to push harder at Proko to make him choke, relishing in the wet, gasping noises and how it made Skov breath harder, tone edged higher.

Kavinsky smiled. He had too many teeth—

Swan blinked—

Kavinsky wasn’t smiling at all. He shifted, slow and like his body was made of shifting and crumbling branches, and turned the music up higher. Louder and grating. He stood, taking another drag, holding it until he’d stepped over and blew the smoke into Swan’s face.

Swan blinked fast, inhaling against his better judgment and shuddering at the acrid tang of the smoke curling in his lungs, fucking Proko’s mouth a little faster.

“Fuck yes, baby boy,” Skov groaned, strained and right on that fucking edge. Swan knew it too well, knew exactly what he sounded like, tasted like, felt like inside and out when he was hanging on the precipice of losing it. Proko keened, moving faster; Jiang inhaled fast and sharp, chewing on Skov’s fingers and hitching his hips up into Proko’s fist, tight and wet.

Swan wanted to do something very stupid.

Something scraped sharply right in his ear, making him twitch (making his dick jump) and he turned his head to see Kavinsky still standing there, bright match in his hand. The flame flickered hungrily, licking charred wood and charred flesh.

Kavinsky’s sunglasses stared at him, unreadable and expectant. Held out the match. An offer or a demand, it was all the same.

Swan opened his mouth.

The world went up in flames.

[bellatrixxue]

Xue’s Supernatural Dare: Wendigo (S1 EP2)

Hello, everyone? How did everyone feel about the finale? Yes? Yes? Oh. Oh. Oh my. Oh, dear.

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell that half-assed homophobic chicken-shit fuckbucket’s not gonna stop me, since I strapped myself onto this roller coaster already and I promised I’m not getting out until the ride’s over, so here we go, wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Also, those who are in this roller coaster with me, ready? Tag list is: @fangirlxwritesx67​ @amazingiam00​ @kalliravenne​ @indecisive20something​ @2musiclover2​ @impossibletosleepthrough @there-must-be-a-lock​ @wingedcatninja​ @arvit​

Oh my gods this recap is so cheesy I actually can make a fondue out of it. 2000s, everybody!

A WHOLE MINUTE AND A HALF FOR THAT FONDUE

FUCKJUMPSCARETITLEFUCKYOU

So we’re starting the episode with the murder scene first, eh? Is that gonna be a trend?

Oh come on, Chads, you’re out in nature and you’re playing video games? Absorb the nature...before it absorbs you!

Waitwait. Holy shit is that...is that Cory Monteith? Oh, bless his soul...

If the wendigo eats his dick as he’s peeing I’m immediately giving Jensen Ackles $100. For no real reason, I just feel like giving him money for already carrying the show on his back.

I can’t tell if it did or not, so I’m not paying yet.

Aw, Sammy...

"I should have told you the truth.” *Vine voice* BUT YOU DIDN’T

FUCKYOUINTHEASSHOhnightmare. Nightmare. So did he visit her at her grave or not? I need answers.

A week? Goddamn. Poor thing. That man-eating tree’s fucking good at his job, man.

“There’s nothing there, it’s just...woods,” Sam, I don’t know if Jess’s death hit you hard or if you got into law school by eating some ancient dick and/or pussy instead of earning that high score fair and square, but the woods “in the middle of nowhere” (your words) are known to be one of the top places full of weird-ass creatures. Even kindergartners know that.

Ehehehehehehehehe he’s so smol next to his lil bro my lil shit

At least you’re coming up with decent covers this time. No Agent Mulder and Scully ruining things for you this time around.

“Bull” oop-

Oh Dean’s a smoooooooooth operator. Good going, buddy.

AND HE GOT A COPY OF THAT DOCUMENT TEAM DEAN TEAM DEAN

Oh that death really got to Sam. I hope he doesn’t turn out to be a trigger-happy psycho. Or eat the man-eating tree and become one himself.

Oh, Haley’s a cutie! Which one’s her brother? Cory? Discount Enrique Iglesias?

Do you have a card for EVERY profession, Dean? And how do I get them too?

That is a very pretty car. I bet they wasted half the budget on that thing.

Okay, sonny boy, little bro, Broseidon, calm down.

Ah, fuck, Haley and Broseidon is gonna go into the woods, that’s more heads to worry about.

How the fuck does Sam find information this fast? I’m impressed, I take five hours to get to one article for my research paper. Or maybe I’m just lazy. So he really earned his law school interview without having to eat dick and pussy, huh.

Every 23 years? What is this, Pennywise? Are we going to see the wendigo do his best Tim Curry do his best scary clown impression? Honk honk?

“Whatever that thing is, it can move.” And the sun rises on the East, Sammy. Why are you so smart and dumb at the same time? Is this his character trait? It might grow on me.

Ahhh, so Sam’s go-to move at interrogation is doing puppy dog eyes and sympathize with the person. He’d make a good lawyer, shame that man-eating tree.

Go Grandpa Exposition, go!

Go Grandpa Exposition, go, give us information and none at all!

OH GEEZ THAT SCAR. PENNYWISE WENDIGO IS VICIOUS.

Skinwalker, Back Dog...Ooh, those all sound cool! I hope we get to see them soon!

‘Corporeal’ doesn’t sound like a real word, but then again, English doesn’t sound like a real language. Sorry. Moving on.

Sam’s gonna eat the wendigo with that attitude, Jesus Christ.

AND HIS BROTHER, AT THIS RATE. If the real villain turns out to be inside Sam all along I’m gonna flip. Is that why women keep dying and burning on ceilings where he sleeps? Is he secretly Lucifer’s spawn or something?

“Oh sweetheart I don’t wear shorts”. They queer-coded him from the start and they tried to make you believe he was straight for fifteen seasons straight? And some people bought that?

Oh, crap, another crappy death treatment for Cory before he got into Glee...No, I wasn’t into Glee, I just watched a few episodes and I might hate Rachel Berry...And Lea Michele...ahem...

Dean is totally flirting with Roy shut upppppppp

OOP AND THERE ROY GOES OH THE SEXUAL TENSION IS HIGH IN THESE WOODS TODAY

“It’s probably the most honest I’ve been with a woman. Ever.” See. Bi. Bi bi bi.

So...why the coordinates, Daddy Negan? Is this a portal to Hell? A place where man-eating trees grow?

*carefully places death flag on Roy*

Ooooh the campsite is very...haunted house-y. You know what I’m saying?

That’s not Discount Enrique Iglesias, but Pennywise wendigo, yes? Those things can mimic human voices, right?

*Google searches*...There are so many versions of this tale I can’t even confirm or deny it. Dammit.

Maybe Pennywise wendigo just wants some snacks and a nice phone and GPS? Maybe he misses his family in uh, Canada or something?

Daddy Negan’s journal is  a e s t h e t i q u e .

I’m so sorry, but the way Sammy smirks as he speaks with those dark, dark voids for eyes? My boy’s a demon. He’s a demon, I’m telling you.

At least Haley has some sense to her. *puts another death flag on Roy*

*PUTS YET ANOTHER DEATH FLAG ON ROY*

True, that. What the heck is Daddy Negan up to with all of this?

“Saving people, hunting things, the family business!” Okay, the way Dean said it gave me chills.

I can actually empathize with Sam here...As whiny and bitchy as he is, he has his reasons to be this way. I guess if I were in his shoes, I’d be less of a Dean and more of a Sam, too. We deal with our losses quite similarly.

Ah, the brotherly bonding moments like these little talks make the show worth it. It’s so heartwarming.

Pennywise wendigo! I didn’t miss you, why’re you here to burst my happy bubble?

I’m starting to see a slight parallel between Haley and Broseidon and Dean and Sammy. Hmm.

Nice meeting you, Roy. Zoop you go.

Haley and Broseidon are taking this rather well, I’m glad they do.

Okay, actual exposition time, thank you.

Whoa, Broseidon speaks! Donner Party! Please don’t remind me of that! Those poor people!

Hibernation and food storage. Delightful, just delightful.

TORCHING? *CALLS RAMMSTEIN*

Somehow, not being able to see the wendigo is scarier to me than what I will probably see itself. Limited budget horror can actually work well.

Oh, dear, Roy literally did a death drop. Badum tissssssssss.

FUCK IT TOOK DEAN THE ONLY CHARACTER I CARE ABOUImean I love you too, Sam! Come on, let’s find him before it’s too late!

A trail of M&Ms! Yes, Broseidon! And Hansel and Gretel refercalled it. Sammy, you and I share the same wavelength?

SHITSHITTHEYTRIPPEDANDFELLINTHEFUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

Thank the gods the Pennywise wendigo kept them right there. Chances.

DISCOUNT ENRIQUE IGLESIAS IS STILL ALIVE GEEZ BUT ALSO PHEW

Ah, Dean Winchester, I love you so much that I can’t even begin to describe it.

Also how convenient that the flare guns are there. Deus ex machina!

Haley would bode well as a hunter, look at her courage, her will. There are more hunters around than Daddy Negan and the brothers, right?

Yeah, seeing the actual wendigo makes me less scared of it now. It’s unnerving, but still.

TEAM DEAN YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHAW

Graphics are...alright, but it’s the thought that counts!

Running with the grizzly bear story. Smart Broseidon. Ben. Sorry, you deserve to be called by your real name. I think with practice they could become good hunters, along with their Discount Enrique Iglesias brother! Is there a fanfiction for that? Can I write it now?

...

I AM WILLING TO DIE TO PROTECT DEAN WINCHESTER I

Haley’s a lesbian, that’s why she kissed him on the cheek only. Headcanoned. Also I have a crush on her, she’s really pretty? Like? Heart eyes???

Ah, the siblings parallels again. Let’s hope neither of the two brothers end up in the bed like that.

“Man, I hate camping.” Really. Really really. Really.

“I’m driving”

...

SAM WINCHESTER I’M SORRY I EVER SPOKE ILL OF YOU I WILL PROTECT YOU WITH MY LIFE TOO I PROMISE YOU I WILL

It’s just a sassy bisexual brother and his little snide bisexual brother on the road to kill evil creatures and find their father and I love this show? Help? Help???

I really, really see the charm of Supernatural now! I’m fully invested in both brothers and their story, and I’m cheering them both on! Let’s get Daddy Negan back and get rid of that man-eating tree once and for all!

Six stars out of five!

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

This dare is introducing me to a whole new world, and I really, really am glad I took that jump a few days ago, man!

Thank you everyone for reading my ramblings, and I’ll see you in the day after with the next review! Thank you for sticking with me! Buh-bye!

- Xue

[insomnihan]

han’s Entire Thoughts & Feelings on Dreamcatcher’s “Odd Eye”

oh mY F UCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-

there are no read mores here so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ALRIGHT SO-

OH MY F UCKING GOD THE SONG WHERE DO I EVEN BEGIN WITH THIS??????????? DEAD ASS?????????????? THAT BEGINNING SOUND ALONE TRIGGERED MY FIGHT OR FLIGHT AND THEN IT JUST CALMS DOWN YET MY BRAIN IS ALREADY F UCKING LOSING IT- ITS THE GUITAR ALL THROUGHOUT AND HOW I JUST HEADBANG WITH EVERY HIT OF THAT DRUM OR WHATEVER THE F UCK FOR ME- pls calm down okay i just……………………… leez…… ollounder…………… i oWE YOU MY LIFE- the way the prechorus is so FAST???????? like whaT IN THE ACTUAL F UCK the way it hypes me up with that instrumental the DRUMS GOT ME BOUNCIN AND S HIT AND GET SMACKED IN THE FACE ODD EYE I SWEAR TO GOD I FELT A NEW EMOTION AFTER THA- AFTER THIS WHOLE SONG TO BE HONEST-

THE?????????????? LINE DISTRIBUTION?????????????? IS SO SE*Y?????????????? THE IMMENSE POWER IN SIYEONS AND YOOHYEONS VOICES I CANT- ACTUAL SUA RAPPER CRUMBS idc what yall say minuscule sua rapper crumbs THE AMOUNT OF HANDONG AND DAMI LINES IS F UCKING DELICIOUS 😩😩😩 HANDONG VERSE CHORUS AND BRIDGE?????????????? DAMI BRIDGE??????????????? ‘LIVE IT UP’?????????????? BICTH IM ALIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

forgot to do this for boca so imma do it here kinda

YES YOOHYEON START THE SONG

THE AMOUNT OF HANDONG?????????????????? I CANT BREATHE??????????????????????

and ofc her ooOOOooOOO-

sua rapper crumbs idc idc-

YOOHYEON AND SIYEON BEING QUEENS OF CHORUSES AGAIN ESPECIALLY THE LAST ONE GO👏OFF👏

jiu ‘no more utopia’ AND sua ‘no more utopia’ pls took me three (3) tries to type ‘utopia’

LIVE IT UP YOURE SO RIGHT QUEEN YOU BETTER RAP YOUR HEART OUT

JIU AND HANDONG CHORUS

THE F UCKING BRIDGE CHANGED MY LIFE

okay for the dance i will be using the mcountdown fancam BC I DO WANT THE F UCK I WANT 👁👁 I JUST WANNA SAY i lit rally CANNOT believe how stable they are dancing LIKE THAT™ thE POWER THEY HOLD ANYWAY as always the dance always S L A P and is literally impossible to dance to without feeling like youre absolutely f ucking d*ing and out of breath……………… LOVE THAT

THE BEGINNING EYE FORMATION ARE YOU KIDDING ME-

im delusional but lowkey deja vu clown me idc idc-

THE SUA RUNNING OUT OF THERE THE JIU THE COMPLICATED HAND STUFF

JUST👏THE👏CHOREO👏FOR👏THE👏CHORUS👏BICTH

siyeon doing this

DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

putting a bullet point for just that one (1) second of dami doing That™

handong right after…………………………………

gahyeons part with the other members doing different moves my eyes liked it

THE ENTIRE BRIDGE I DONT NEED TO SAY ANYTHING ELSE

like jiu and dami with handong ive literally watched that for five hours-

i just like the way they lined up and needed it to be linked here

THE SPIN THAT K*LLED US ALL

THE KICK THAT SENT US SIX FEET UNDER

S C R E A M……………………………………………………… Iconic™

DO YOU SEE THE BUDGET IN THE VISUALS JESUS CHRIST- the f ucking set up all of the effects!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! all of the lights!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! all of thE GLOWING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ALL OF IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! the black and white set and theyre wearing red…………………… the red and white set and theyre wearing black…………………… that purple and green place…………………… the tree and random nature but everything is so futuristic looking…………………… dunno why yoohyeon is in a graffiti covered restroom but im LIVING for it- SIYEON SURROUNDED BY THOSE TVS DAMI IN THAT TRAIN THAT MULTICOLORED PLACE WHEREVER SUA IS EXCUSE ME- I COULD LITERALLY NAME EVERY SCENE IN THIS DAMN MUSIC VIDEO AND THEY👏ALL👏SLAP👏HARD👏👏👏👏👏👏👏

TIME TO SHOW WHICH SCENES I LIKED

THE WHOLE F UCKING THI-

jk ill name some😊😊😊again id name everything but ill just show one i liked more than others bc this is alreADY TOO DAMN LONG-

this is self restraint btw

I FEEL THREATENED-

helL YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

AND IF I CRIED????????????????????????

this is here for no reason other than bc i wanted it here-

OOP-

OOP- x2

………………………………… F-

WHY OFC I HAVE TO PUT THIS HERE

ABSOLUTELY…………………………… ABSOLUTELY

OH F CUK-

it was this or the close up shot either way it k*lled me

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

😦

OH NO-

OOP- x3

😔😔😔😔😔😔😔

honestly let me just mention i really clowned and set myself up for heartbreak bc the album is only called ‘road to utopia’ but i assumed theyll find utopia bc thats how trilogies work but then this slaps me in the face- what im saying is im 🤡

T H E M

oK A Y SO THIS POST IS LONG ENOUGH ALREADY LIKE GODDAMNIT COULD I JUST SHUT UP FOR TEN (10) MINUTES PLS- SO HERE ILL JUST SAY ONE (1) WORD………………………………………………

W O M E N™

plus this truly is long enough good god-

JIU

OH BICTH SHE GRABBED ME BY MY NECK RIGHT AT THE START WHEN SHE JUST POPPED UP- lemme just talk about this screenshot for a second the STREAKS IN HER HAIR and THE PIERCING???????? THE JACKET???????GOOD GOD????????? L I S T E N her outfits during the dance scenes the R E D especially jeSUS- its that red one for me im pretty sure some of yall saw me go F E R A L™ on the dashboard about it so i WILL NOT go into it again- and theN THAT DRESS A F CUKING QUEEN LOVE TO SEE IT

SUA

ONCE AGAIN I HAVE TO BRING UP THE VERY START WITH THAT SLOW MO- RED👏IS👏HER👏COLOR 👏👏👏👏👏👏👏  the dark hime cut………………… the choker on both the red and the black is it the same one doesnt matter im d*ad……………… yo her wavy hair and that dress when it looked like she was in some hair shampoo commercial bicth i liVED FOR THAT- and theN T H I S YES THIS THAT IN THE SCREENSHOT the leather and the jacket the writing on her face i waNT HER TO BEAT ME WITH THAT LIGHT-

SIYEON

HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY IM LITEREALLY CRYINNG

I SWEAR TO GOD I SCREAMED EVERY TIME SHE WAS ON THE SCREEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! pls breathe yes i see that orange coat with the collar and her two different colored eyes and how she is sitting in that chair i see her looking so fine in that red outfit especially near the end of the mv oh mY GOD- those pants yall bringing that style back from boca literally let me bREATHE FOR LIKE TWO (2) SECONDS

HANDONG

HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

LISTENLISTENLISTENLISTEN my eyes legit started tearing up when i saw her so soon in the mv yall DO NOT understand the emotions im going through to rewatch this mv again and again anD- iiiIIIIiiII CANNOT FULLY EXPRESS MYSELF BUT I JUST WANNA DIRECTLY MENTION THOSE CRYSTALS AND HER HIGH PONYTAIL SHE MADE F UCKING SURE TO SHOW OFF HOW POWERFUL SHE IS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YOOHYEON

YOOHYEON WITH BUNS??????????????????? THAT LIPSTICK COLOR RIGHT AT THE START???????? THAT OUTFIT WITH THE RED PLAID SKIRT????????? like when you REALLY look at the outfit the polkadot jacket and the tie makes not a lot of sense but she made it woRK!!!!!!!!! okayokayokay her lip ring and dance outfits lets talk about it to be honest its something about that chain that hangs on her torso that makes it really hit………………… but like the entire outfits HIT™ she ripped her pants didnt she

DAMI

I CANT STAND THIS WOMAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! tell me why for literally one (1) second of that ‘live it up’ it snapped my neck???????? it was HARDLY A FLASH OF LIGHT YET IT WAS ENOUGH TO HURT ME- i prefer her short hair but listen the longer hair is making so many points rn- i think i said that for boca too… SHES LITERALLY SITTING YALL AND YET HERE I AM- the jacket the necklace the gloves and then that dramatic spin and the leaves OH MY GOD- DID YALL👏SEE THE WAY👏SHE KEPT👏FEELING👏HER NECK👏👏👏👏👏👏👏!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

GAHYEON

GAHYEON THE WOMAN YOU ARE- i wanna start with the black hair and thee stickers look bc i wanna buT WE LOVE NOIR BY SUNMI but like i love that look like overall????????????? she literally wears the same outfit for that and this screenshot but the vibe is so different i LOVE this purple color she got going rn and that black hair IS A STATEMENT imma be more open here about it but lowkey i am genuinely missing her dark hair rn- anyway THAT DESIGN AROUND HER EYE WITH THAT RED OUTFIT BRUH DO I D*E-

BONUS TIME: B-SIDE TRACKS (short thoughts and parts i liked)

Intro

IVE NEVER BEEN SO FERAL IN MY LIFE

Wind Blows

this instrumental……………………… holy god????????????? its chill for like a second in the beginning and then it just YEETS you in- imma be real i wasnt sure about that ‘wind blows’ part i dunno why i ……… into it at first but yknow whaT THATS ONE OF THE BEST PARTS DAMIS RAP I SWEAR- but then the prechorus parts are so chill??????????? is it bc its handong its probably bc its handong ‘always be with you like gravity’ siyeon pls- it gives me the same energy as tension and break the wall where i feel like i jusT GAIN ALL THE STRENGTH AND CONQUER THE WORLD yes i saw the dance multiple times it k*lled me every single time

Poison Love

literally what the f uck- when i heard it in the highlight medley i knew i was gonna LOVE this like i cant stand how much i love their sexy bops like dami got me immediately ‘why do you?’ YOURE RIGHT DAMI WHY DO I- you could NEVER go wrong with lower register dreamcatcher NOTHING👏CAN👏GO👏WRONG👏 DAMI AND GAHYEON THEIR RAPS JESUS CHRIST i put my hand on my heart i was so taken aback- maybe i went back to replay it a few times when i was listening to it and then handong……………………………………………………… UH ANYWAY-

4 Memory

JIIIIIIIIIUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WE LOVE THE HAPPY AND BOUNCY AND FUN BOP OF THE ALBUM- like ive said this to a few moots that this song just makes me happy and lifts up my mood its the little instrumental parts in the chorus for me i dunno what it is its just pleasant to my ears and then damis rap is so fun like :cccccc cute- like this is a song about the seasons and wanting to be with someone (well jiu help write this is this about like insomnias or am i a stupid clown-) like i REALLY WISH i could express how much i enjoy this song but i would just be repeating myself that its a feel good happy song!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

New days

DAAAAAAAAMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LIKE i dunno how to describe the energy this song holds except ‘friendship energy’- its literally the guitar all throughout the song for me LIKE i feel like im just wrapped in a nice hug BUT NOT JUST ANY KIND OF HUG its the kind that the other person opened their jacket and theyre holding me and their jacket is around me listening to this song yall i kinda wanna cry i dunno- everyone sounds so lovely especially jiu pls her voice is so soft and DAMI OFC HER RAP GETS A HELL YEAH™ FROM ME like the ‘find you’ AND THEN AT THE END ‘FOUND YOU’ IM 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 (if yall cant see its the pleading puppy eyed emoji)

LIKE WHAT A WAY TO START THE F UCKING YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! im so in awe of everything about this as SOON AS SOON I SAY i saw the very first photo teaser and i COULDNT STOP LISTENING TO THE HIGHLIGHT MEDLEY AND THE TEASER WITH THE SUITS AND THE DRINKS IS STILL LIVING IN MY HEAD- alright alright ill calm down for this part but its one of my FAVORITE ALBUMS FOR👏SURE👏 like i really cant think of any criticisms regarding anything about it!!!!!!!!!!!! since im posting this after promotions are over (odd eye promotions anyway) i will just say im EXTREMELY proud of what we have accomplished as fans and what the girls have achieved during this era!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! it was hella wild all around and i am once again saying that im very happy to be an insomnia <3<3<3<3<3<3<3

and ONCE AGAIN JUST ONE (1) MORE TIME RIGHT BEFORE MY BIRTHDAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉 

IN CONCLUSION: THIS ALBUM TAKES ME TO AN ENTIRELY NEW WORLD AND IM GONNA LIVE IT UP

AND AS ALWAYS:

[bibliocratic]

For @babtest, who asked for the prompt: Martin showing normal, genuine human anger.

Jon/Martin, set in a nebulous post-160 AU. Cws in the tags. 

“And if you want me to call – ”

“I know, I'll send a message.”

“And if you don't feel safe, or you want out of there, there doesn't have to be a reason – ”

“Jon.”

“I'll have the phone on me in case – ”

“Jon,” Martin snaps, and his voice is saw-toothed, edged with an irritation that serves as a defensive carapace to his nerves. “It's – it's fine, he's probably not going to be there anyway, this whole thing is going to be a waste, s-so would you please stop fussing, for – ” He releases a grunt of annoyance but tries to muster some calm, breathing with heavy huffing sounds. “I just need... this bloody Christ, this tie – ”

Martin's made a knot-eyed strangle-hold mess of it in his rush, and he tugs angrily at it, making it worse.

“Do you want me to – ?”

“No, I don't! Would you just let me do it! God forbid I be able to do it myself.”

Martin's voice raises to a shout that dips into a hollow of passive aggressive sniping. Jon stills, steps back from where he's been moving into Martin's space and crowding him, and tries not too feel too hurt, pushes down the knee-jerk cutting responses that will neither be helpful or deserved.

Martin tussles with the tie for a few more vicious seconds, his smart shirt having been tucked, untucked and re-tucked again and taking on a rumpled, disturbed pattern. He finally breathes out again, a heavy, weighted breath, closing his eyes. He takes a few calculated, noticeably deeper inhales and exhales that Jon recognises as the deep breathing his therapist taught him. Jon lets him tide through it.

“I'm sorry for snapping,” Martin says lowly, roughly. “I didn't mean – I'm not handling this very well. That's no reason to take it out on you.”

“Considering how many times I was short with you, you probably still have a surplus until we're even close to equal,” Jon replies, trying for levity. Martin wrings the abused tie miserably in his hands, and Jon wishes that this was easier, that this wasn't drawing out all of Martin's embedded poisons, his anxieties he's long laboured to conquer.

“Can you – Will you help? With the tie?” Martin says in a smaller voice, and Jon takes a step into Martin's unhappy orbit, and removes it gently from his hands.

“Of course,” he replies. “If you want to wear it. But you – Martin, you look good without it. And you hate ties.”

The last time he'd worn one was at his mum's funeral, Jon both knows and Knows. He hadn't been able to tie it then either.

“I want – ” Martin says, looking frustrated when the words don't come as easily as he desires. “It looks professional, yeah? Smart? I don't want to look – do I look like I'm, I dunno, trying too hard? It's – huh – it's only a cafe, right, not the bloody Ritz or something – will it, do you think it'll look too desperate?”

Jon touches Martin's arm with his hand. Martin's fidgeting with his shirt sleeves, the buttons at the cuffs, keeps tugging them down like he's worried they're not long enough. He twists and twists and twists his wedding ring and bleeds out nerves like a weather front stagnating in fog, and Jon selfishly wants him to cancel.

“You'll look fine,” he replies. “Smart, and put-together. And I'll think you look handsome, but that's by the by.” That coaxes Martin's lips to twitch. “But you don't... you don't have to wear it, if it's going to... if you're uncomfortable in it. Especially if you think not wearing it will make him disapprove or some nonsense.”

Martin huffs a sound that's the verbal equivalent of a long-suffering eye-roll.

“Spooky mind-reader strikes again, huh.”

“Fear my psychic powers,” Jon dead-pans, and Martin chuffs another one of those aborted half-laughs. Then, quieter, softer. “Want me to help with it?”

“I – I think I'll leave it,” Martin responds finally, with a nod to himself. “It's a Costa anyway, I'm just going to look like a hipster anyway in this shirt.”

“It's that and the beard,” Jon agrees, rubbing his hand at the thick scratchy weave of it until Martin bats his hand away with a 'get off you'. “Do you need your umbrella?”

“ 's only ten minutes down the road, should be alright.”

“You get caught in a downpour, it's your own fault.”

Martin's lips do actually quirk in a smile then, finding the grooves of their light-hearted bickering as a comforting oft-replayed melody.

“Your compassion  never ceases to astound me.”

“You didn't have to marry me.”

“Not like any one else was going to do the job.”

“How noble and public-spirited of you.”

Jon kisses Martin's lips briefly, raising himself up on socked tip-toes. Martin's hand slots into his, faintly trembling.

“Whatever you decide, I'll support your decision,” he says in the tight woven space of their bodies. “Even if this isn't what you want, or even if it is.”

Martin nods, and returns a dry, bristly kiss in return before he heads out.

It starts spitting with rain not a minute later.

-

Jon has not been blessed with an abundance of patience. Martin's meeting is at half two, but he checks his phone at obsessive intervals, watching the screen lighten and the clock on analogue mode work through the grinding seconds. In case Martin's changed his mind. In case he wants out, doesn't want to do this. In case he was stood up, or is sat alone because there was some problem with traffic, or, or, or.

Jon, half-heartedly, tries a great number of things to distract himself, and to avoid any instances of Knowing. After an hour, he's given channel-hopping a go – watching five minutes of a mid-afternoon western, and then ten minutes of a reality show about buying houses on the coast and renovating them. (Martin loves these types of programmes, and in the spirit of them is trying to doggedly renovate the front hall. Meaning that any time Jon wants to go to the front door, he has to pick his way over old blankets thrown down to protect the flooring from paint drips, Martin's small forest of tester pots and paint pots and drying brushes).

Martin's got a window seat – the window misted with condenseness, some child has imprinted a pudgy hand as a calling card – has ordered a mocha – over-sugared, tacky in his mouth, he regrets the choice immediately –

SHUT UP, Jon fumes at himself, and tries to read, manages a few pages before he's struck with the frisson of Martin's spiking anxiety every time the ding of the cafe door pipes up, and stomps into the kitchen to occupy his mind by making himself an unappetizing lunch that he doesn't even want to eat.

His phone remains silent. Jon fights the powerful urge to send a brief check-up message, a little everything going ok? but stops himself. Martin's going to have enough on his plate.

Jon frets and waits for him to come home.

–

There's the plaintive squeak of the front gate (Martin will need to oil it again), and Jon sits up from where he's been petting the cat and poorly playing one of Martin's hand-held console games. He's been on the same level for about an hour now, and stubbornness is preventing him from giving it up as a lost cause.

The pad of two footsteps.

“You've – the flowers are nice. That you've got growing.”

“Thanks. It's not really – it's more Jon than me.  He's pretty green-fingered.” The footsteps peter out. “So – er, well, this is me, heh. Close by.”

“Time really flew, huh.”

“Yeah. T-thanks for the, thanks for the coffee – ”

“Don't mention – ”

“ – and for the walk back – ”

“ – You can keep the umbrella, if you  – ”

“N-no, it's, it's fine.”

The conversation stalls and splutters like an engine with the wrong fuel. Jon's moved out into the hallway, the cat restless but demanding in his arms, and sees the blurred bulk of Martin's stiff shoulders in the frosted glass pane of their front door, set high like he's shoved his hands into his pockets.

Jon skirts around the paint pots to get nearer.

“So,” the other voice – and it's so similar, strikes the same gulleys and furrows, the stop-and-start of thoughts eking their way out into expression, and it wrong-foots Jon to hear it, the ill-matching echo of it. “I – I'll see you again? If you, that is – I really liked... It was good. To catch up, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Martin says, and he sounds wrung out, straining on some mental rack he's internalised. “It was. Yeah. It was good to see you.”

“You want to do coffee again, sometime?”

“I – er. Maybe. Maybe.”

The first fuzz of hurt creeps to moss over the over-eager nervousness of the other voice. “Oh. Er, yeah. S-sure. That's... it's not a problem. Why, why maybe?”

Martin's hackles go up defensively. “I'm not sure, alright?”

“Was everything ok?”

“I guess relatively?”

“What's that mean?”

“Relatively as in, it's been thirty years, there's a few things to iron out after all that. Hence the, y'know, the maybe.”

“Right,” comes the response. “I am – you know I am trying here.”

Martin's voice goes low and flat and judgemental.

“And how long until you lose interest this time?”

There's a punch of silence. The cat buts against Jon's chin. Through the vague blurring of the glass, Martin shifts in that way of his, when he says something he wishes he hasn't, but he makes no move to take it back.

Half beseeching, half reproachful: “That's not fair, Marty.”

It was the wrong thing to say.

“It's Martin,” Martin replies, blistering with something bubbling to the forefront. “It's Martin, not Marty. I'm not – I'm not a child any more, so you can just – just drop that.” He scoffs a breath, and it's hard and hurt and deliberate. “And no, it wasn't fair. But neither was you leaving. So guess we're equal.”

“I – I tried to explain,” the other man starts, a heat of his own starting to shade indignant.

“And it was bollocks – ”

“It's the truth!”

“It wasn't good enough!”

“Your mother, she was – ”

“She was ill! She was sick and you knew, you knew she was just going to get sicker, and so you cut your losses and you legged it.”

“It wasn't like that – ”

“I was eight!” Martin snarls, and there's no pausing in his words any more, no careful consideration, it's a scatter-gun of words he's had secured in his chest for a long time now. “What the fuck sort of parent leaves an eight year old in that sort of house, with that sort of responsibility? What the hell kind of a life did you think I'd have?!”

“She had – you had aunts and uncles! They were, nearby, they were always cluttering up the house, popping round. I thought – I thought if, when she got really bad, they'd take you in!”

“She cut everyone out! What a stupid – you knew her! She hated anything that felt like pity, she was proud and she didn't want anyone to see her as she got worse. You think she'd have accepted someone implying she couldn't care for her son? No.  And eventually it was – it was only us, and you know what, she hated me for it. Because I looked so much like you! Because everything I did, everything I ever did was just a reminder of how much she hated you for leaving.”

“I didn't – ” The response is regret-mired, apologetic, but Martin doesn't want to hear it. “I couldn't have known that...”

“No,” Martin replies, his voice all venom and hurt. “But it's not like you checked, did you? Pop in, see how I was doing.  A visit o-or a letter in the post, o-or something! Christ, you didn't even come to the bloody funeral!”

“I.. No one told me! I found out she'd... she'd passed about a month back. I swear, Marty – Martin, sorry. I swear, I didn't know.”

“And now here you are.”

“I wanted to – I wanted to make amends! To be a better, a better father to you.”

“I'm nearly forty, dad,” Martin snipes unkindly, his throat thick. “What makes you think I need you now?” He sniffs, his words damper than he'd like. “Thirty years is a long time to wait to try and play happy families again.”

“Martin, I. Look, I had a lot of problems. Back then. For a long time. I'm not saying them as an excuse – ”

“Then don't say them,” Martin cuts him off. “I don't – I don't want to hear them. I... just. Don't.”

The conversation dies abruptly. There's a horrible, terminal sort of quiet to it.

“I'm going to go,” Martin says, his tone sanded down to quiet exhaustion. “I've got – Jon'll be waiting and I – I can't do this any more.”

“Right,” Kenneth Blackwood replies with an equal tone. “I'm staying, I'm nearby if you want to – I hope to see you again, Martin.”

Martin doesn't reply. Jon has enough warning of the looming shadow in the door to skitter back as Martin uses his key to twist the lock open.

His face is ruddy, splotchy with patches of red. His eyes wet.

“Guess you heard some of that, yeah?” he bites out bitterly on seeing Jon, tugging off his coat.

“Some,” Jon admits honestly, and Martin shakes his head like he's trying to knock something loose, throws his coat over the banister head, pulling off his scarf and balling it up and chucking it in the corner by the door like it's wronged him.

“What a fucking – It was a mistake, I knew I knew it was a bad idea, me and my stupid bloody – playing the bleeding heart idiot again as per fucking usual.”

“Did it, did go badly?” Jon asks, putting the cat down and skirting the edges of Martin's return, watching him pull off his shoes unlaced and slam them into the shoe pile into the corner.

“Absolutely fabulous!” he responds with a false bitter cheer that tinges yellowed and sick. He's not calming down. His hand threading through his hair, his face continuing to redden with an angry heat, eyes welling up. “He's so bloody sincere and apologetic and what the – what am I supposed to do with that now? Where were all his sorries then, where was he when I wanted to hear them?”

Martin plows on, clearly not wanting answers.

“A-and he was so interested, wanted to see our wedding pictures, and kept asking so so many questions like it was a job interview or something – what are you doing? What do you like doing? What are your hobbies? How long have you and Jon been together? – a-and, like, I couldn't help thinking that it's none of his – he wasn't there, he doesn't get to be all friendly like he didn't just walk out. And! And then!” Martin's voice rises to a furious damp crest, throwing his hands about. “Then he wants to share! He had pictures on him and his new wife and new kids – a-and mum, she always, she always said he hadn't wanted a family, hadn't wanted to be a dad, didn't want the responsibility that'd fall on him when she got sick. But he was so happy! So I don't – what am I meant to think of that? I don't know, I mean, was it lies she told me, how much was the truth, and how much did she twist like she did everything else?”

 Martin sniffs loudly. “He got married a year after he left mum, and they're still together. His other kids are finishing uni or they've got cushy jobs in the financial district, and h-he was showing me and he sounded so... god, he was so proud of them.” Martin wipes at his eyes. “S-so that's, that's just great.”

“Martin...” Jon starts, despairing, listening to the croak in his voice, the way it keeps catching, the hitching jagged rise of his breathing.

“No. No, don't you get it, it's clear as fucking crystal. Because he wanted a family, yeah, he wanted kids he could dote on and take to the park and play football with. He just didn't want me, did he? And what the hell was s-so wrong with me?! I wasn't – I wasn't a bad kid, I was quiet and I kept out of trouble, and there's no, no reason he couldn't have taken me with him when he left. S-so what was so wrong with me?” Martin's shoulders are starting to shake. “Why – why wasn't I enough for him?”

Jon surges in as Martin bursts into angry bitter tears. Sobbing into Jon's jumper, fisting his hands into the hem of it, repeating snatches of recrimination and confusion over and over. Jon tries to tell him that he's enough, that he's always been enough, that he's so so loved, but Martin can't hear over his own hitching breaths, the sea swell of his grief.

Jon just holds him and waits for the tide to go out.

–

The doorbell rings around nine o'clock, and Jon Knows who's at the door.

Martin stirs under the twisted covers with a questioning noise, but Jon shushes him.

“It's the postman,” he lies. “I'll get it.”

Martin hums.

“Put the kettle on?” he asks sleepily, as though he won't be back snoring in a minute. Jon promises he will regardless, manoeuvring himself out of the heat-packed bed and Martin's loose grip, slipping on his slippers and a shirt.

He opens the door with his most imperious of gazes already set on his face.

Martin is there. Or, a man uncanny in resemblance. He shifts his weight from foot to foot like Martin does, has the same nervous twitch in the flutter of his hands. His skin is more weathered, maybe, has built up a collection of lines Martin hasn't sourced out just yet, a further progression to the receding hairline that's beginning to retreat back at Martin's temples.

“I – um, is Martin in?”

“Yes.”

“Can – would I be able to – ?”

“No,” Jon replies. “He's still asleep.”

It's taken for the denial it's meant to be. Kenneth Blackwood makes an 'oh, right' with the same ringing nervous cast to his movements that Martin had when he first came to the Archives.

“It's...” he starts tentatively, and politely does not have his gaze stray too long on the scars on his hand, his face, his throat.  “It's Jon, isn't it?”

“Jonathan Blackwood,” he responds, feeling the odd need to stake the territory here. “I'm Martin's husband.”

“Oh!” Kenneth replies, a little surprised “That's... that's good. I didn't know you took his name when you got.... That's... that's great.”

“It's a good name,” Jon responds, and his father gives a sad, crooked look.

“Not sure Martin would agree with you.”

“It's not my place to comment,” Jon counters, and Kenneth nods and replies with a: “Yeah. No, no, you're right.”

The cat has come up to the door out of curiosity and nudges at the back of his legs before deciding to stay indoors. Jon clears his throat, feeling the nip of early morning under the thin cotton of his nightwear.

“I wanted to – ” Kenneth Blackwood starts. “I wanted to apologise. I didn't keep a cool head yesterday, and he – he deserved my honesty, not my defensiveness.”

Jon gives nothing else, and Kenneth Blackwood continues, clearly grateful for the conversational opening.

“Look, I'm – I have to head back today. I live up near Preston these days. But I hoped – Can I leave my number? I know I shouldn't have pushed so hard. It was a lot to expect. He doesn't...” He makes a half-sigh. “Martin doesn't have to call. I won't contact him again, if that's what he wants. I just – I'm there. If he wants to give me the chance to get to know him again. But if he doesn't.... I understand.”

Jon takes the piece of card offered.

“I'll give it to him,” he says, firmly but not unkindly, and then gives a nod. “Drive back safe, Mr Blackwood.”

He takes it for the dismissal it is meant to be, and he returns the nod. Shoves his hands in his pockets to stave off the chill of the morning as he leaves.

Jon closes the front door with an unobtrusive click, pockets the card he was given. Pauses for a moment, listening to the lull of the house, the rumble of snoring upstairs. Then he makes his way past pots and paintbrushes into the kitchen to make Martin a cup of tea.

[flowerslut]

DAY ONE: HUMAN/VAMPIRE  Rated: T for language Words: 2,824

A/N: It’s day one and I’m already cheating.

Fully kidding. It’s entirely on-theme. It just so happens to be the first chapter of the brain-worm that dug itself into my skull a couple of weeks ago. The human Jasper/vampire Alice fit that I never thought I’d write. Enjoy the drama.

EDGE OF IT ALL

With a deep breath he inhaled steadily, closing his eyes as he let the cigarette calm him. Upon his exhale he opened his eyes, watching as the smoke mingled with his own breath, both evaporating in the cold air. The rain fell hard around him as he leaned up against the wet bark of the tree.

He wasn’t entirely out of the way of the constant downpour; his clothes were dampened with a fine layer of rainwater. But the slight cover that the canopy of trees provided him with was the best amount of protection he was going to get out there. He ignored the shiver that fought it’s way free and pulled his jacket tighter around him.

It was bad enough that he’d cut class, but now there was no way he’d be able to return in time for sixth period. And even if he did—if he stomped out his cigarette and rushed back to the math and sciences building—Ms. Sanborn would see his drenched state, smell the smoke on his clothes and send him straight to the office. He didn’t want them to call Wilson any more than he was sure the man wanted to be interrupted on a work day.

At the breakfast table he’d pleaded with Jasper to not cause any trouble today; his foster father had an important meeting with the nurses under his charge at the clinic today. The portly man wasn’t a nurse himself—administrative duties had been his calling, apparently—but sometimes the man spoke with an air that made Jasper wonder if the guy really thought he was as important as the health care providers that actually treated patients.

It annoyed Jasper on a good day, but today it had been borderline intolerable.

He’d tried, at least. He’d stuck it out until lunch period and then that annoying fuck Colson just had to make some remark in passing that it was a good thing college applications charged a fee, saying it ‘weeded out the dumbasses whose parents couldn’t afford school anyway.’ 

Jasper hadn’t even hit the guy, even after the snob had pointedly eyed Jasper as they walked by the corner of the lunch room he typically occupied. He hadn’t even said anything in reply to the remark! Really, it was a testament to some sort of self-control Jasper had been scavenging together over the past ten months at the tiny school. The fact that he hadn’t ended the day suspended should be seen as a gift to Wilson.

And truly he wasn’t hurting anyone in skipping class. He was failing pre-calc anyways. And then after that was art. Which was so easy he could probably skip the rest of the school year and still score at least a B.

That was one of the plus sides to a school (and a town) as small as Forks. Back in Oakland—and even in Seattle, although he’d only been there for a month and a half—the school resource officer would’ve been out, scouring the grounds for him by now. Here, there weren’t even metal detectors by the doors. It was bizarre in the most liberating of ways.

Not that he brought his knife to school anymore anyways. Wilson and Meg had begged him to leave it in his room. He should’ve found himself grateful that they didn’t confiscate it from him fully.

“If it helps him feel safe, it’s fine,” he’d overheard his foster mother, Meg, explaining to her conservative husband a few weeks after he’d arrived.

“He has a history of violence,” his foster father had growled back, not even attempting to be quiet. Jasper hadn’t felt bad about listening in when there wasn’t much of an attempt at subtlety.

“Violence when threatened,” he could almost picture Meg rolling her eyes, dismissing her husband’s valid concerns the way she often did. The sound of a cabinet opening and closing had given Jasper all he context clues he needed, and when he’d heard the pop of a bottle he just knew that she was about to down her nightly bottle of wine. “What’s going to threaten him out here? The rain? A wandering coyote? Relax, Wil.”

They weren’t the best placement he’d been given, in Jasper’s opinion. But they were far from the worst.

Tugging his damp sleeves further down his arms Jasper reached to his back pocket and retrieved another cigarette from the carton. He’d already told himself that his previous one would be his last one of the day, but then he’d realized that there was no way he was going to make it back to school. Might as well light up a couple more.

When he started flicking his lighter, he swore loudly when a thick raindrop fell through the canopy and perfectly into the lighter’s opening, extinguishing the flame he’d just ignited. He flicked it several times after that, swearing again when the stupid thing refused to even spark. Out of frustration he let the unlit cigarette fall from his lips, tossing the now-useless lighter deep into the woods.

Great. Just fucking perfect. He did have a shift at the new convenience store in town tomorrow, meaning he’d be able to snag a few more lighters before he clocked out, but that felt too far away.

Leaning his head back against he tree he thought to himself, attempting to come up with a decent enough excuse to get Wilson off of his back tonight. No doubt the school had already called both the house phone as well as his and Meg’s cell phones. The fact that his own shitty prepaid phone hadn’t rung yet was surprising. Usually Wilson liked to let Jasper know how disappointed he was in him the instant said disappointment struck the man.

His daydreams were cut short when suddenly something small came flying at him, hitting him square in the chest too quickly for him to dodge.

“Oof,” Jasper leaned forward, his hands moving to grab at his chest. He was caught so off guard that he had no idea what had even struck him, but whatever it was had been moving so fast that Jasper wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t bleeding beneath his shirt. The projectile had felt small and metal.

For half of a second Jasper thought that maybe he was shot, but quickly he dismissed the thought. He hadn’t heard a peep and besides, he’d learned from others exactly what being shot felt like, and this feeling—while still acutely painful—didn’t compare.

“Sorry!” A woman’s voice called from somewhere high up in the canopy, causing Jasper to almost jump out of his own skin. His head quickly lifted, searching for the source of the words. “I didn’t mean to throw that so hard!”

Who the fuck…?

It was there, on the ground in front of him, that he saw it: his broken, red lighter. The one he’d tossed far into the forest barely minutes before.

Someone else was out here with him, and she had an arm that would put most major league baseball players to shame.

Her voice was high, almost bell-like with her apology. It wasn’t a voice Jasper recognized as he wracked his brain, trying to place it with a face he knew from school.

“What—where are you?” He called out, hand still against his chest as he stepped out from the cover of the trees and lifted his eyes to the canopy once more. Her voice sounded impossibly high up. There was no way someone could climb any of these trees without a ladder, he realized as he blinked up into the oncoming rain.

Then, a blur of movement as something—no, someone—fell from high above, landing only feet away from him.

“Jesus Christ!” He screamed, unable to help himself as he stumbled back a few steps. With one arm half-way outstretched, he didn’t have time to stumble back toward the girl—holy shit she’d jumped fucking hell there’s no way she survived that these trees are massive oh god some girl just fucking killed herself in front of him—he found himself stunned into silence when his eyes fell upon the girl standing before him, completely unharmed.

“Hi!” She greeted cheerily, smiling widely up at him.

Jasper wondered if she’d thrown something else at him, because suddenly all the air left his lungs and he was stuck there motionless, staring at the girl in front of him.

She was beautiful. Almost otherworldly so. Her hair was cropped short around her face, longer strands sticking to her pale cheeks due to the rain. Her clothes were ill-fitting—and were those holes in the sweater that almost swallowed her slight frame whole?—and she was completely barefoot.

Not to mention her eyes were a bright, vivid red.

The instant his eyes landed on hers he took an involuntary step backward. Sure, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his entire eighteen years on this planet, but that one glance into her own gaze broke whatever trance she’d placed him in and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck begin to raise.

It wasn’t that he’d never seen anyone wear colored lenses before. But this crossed over from weird to just plain eerie with the rest of her appearance alone.

Her face crumbled as he took another step backwards. “No! It’s okay! I’m not going to hurt you, I—” but as she inhaled her face was suddenly pained, and in the blink of an eye she was suddenly fifty yards away, just barely visible across the clearing.

Moving slowly, Jasper felt his heart rate begin to skyrocket as he took another step backward. He had to move. He had to find his bag. He had to find his shit now and get the fuck out of there before—

“No!” And in another blink she was behind him, standing just between him and his ratty old backpack. “Please, I’m sorry. I know I’m going about this all wrong but—”

“What the fuck are—” it was too easy to slip on the wet leaves beneath his feet, and as Jasper landed on his ass in a puddle he couldn’t help but scurry backward any way he could. He was either losing his goddamn mind, or he was about to die. Maybe both. “Get—get away from me!” He yelled, swatting a hand ahead of him, feeling very much like a fool. Like a caveman swinging a torch toward a lion; a silly, feeble motion.

“No, Jasper, shh,” her eyes were wide then, and when she lifted her hands up toward him, as if trying to calm a wild animal, her sleeves fell backward. Jasper’s eyes locked onto the blood beneath her fingernails and in that moment he was certain he was going to die.

He stopped attempting to escape in that moment. “How the fuck do you know my name?” He demanded of the girl—the demon—the thing—as he worked to keep his voice even. She didn’t need to know that he was scared out of his wits. Truthfully, she definitely already knew it. After all he was on his ass in the middle of a puddle, not too far from wetting himself if he were being entirely honest.

He knew he’d fight his way back to the school if he had to, but somehow the idea of defending himself against this tiny girl seemed like a laughable idea.

“I’m messing this up so bad. No, no, no.” Then, her eyes flickered back toward where the school was. Jasper followed her gaze, but when he lifted his eyes back up, she was gone.

“Hello?” He called out, his voice shaking as he waited for her to reappear somewhere else around him.

He nearly pissed his pants when he turned his head back toward the school and Edward Cullen was standing there, staring out into the clearing with his weird, wide, golden eyes. Coming up behind him was none other than his brother, Emmett.

“Did you see that?” Jasper blurted out, desperate to know that he wasn’t crazy, that the Cullen boys had seen the demon girl, too.

Edward looked at him strangely then, and Jasper couldn’t help but think that the younger boy was seeing straight through him. But when the bronze-haired Cullen shrugged, looking around the clearing, as if confused, Jasper felt his heart sink. “See what?”

“You good man?” Emmett asked, jogging up to where Jasper was laying in the mud. The oldest Cullen had always been the nicest out of all of them. Not that the others were mean, but they certainly weren’t the friendliest group of people.

He’d known who they were even before he’d even started his first day. Meg and Wilson had told him all about the Cullen siblings and the Hale girls before he’d started. “They’re foster kids, too. Good kids. Maybe try hanging out with them!”

As if it would be a normal thing to do; approach the only other outcasts in the school and form what? A friendship? An alliance of weirdos? Jasper had never attempted to even talk to them.

Emmett reached down toward Jasper and he grabbed the offered hand firmly, letting the larger boy pull him up onto his feet.

Jasper frowned as Emmett released his grip. If his hands were that cold then Jasper’s had to be far worse. It was then that he was reminded just how freezing it was outside, as the rain continued to pour down on them, unrelenting. “What happened?” The dark-haired guy asked, also surveying the area with careful eyes.

“I—” But Jasper didn’t want to sound like a complete lunatic and he also had no idea how to describe what the fuck had just happened. “There was… a girl?”

“A girl?” Emmett raised an eyebrow, then his expression morphed and suddenly he looked like he was biting back a grin. “If Sanborn knew you were cutting class to hook up with a girl she’d have an aneurism.”

“I—that’s not—”

“Emmett,” Edward rolled his eyes, before turning back toward the school, “Come on.”

“What were you two doing out here?” Jasper flipped the script on them as quick as he could, hating how his face was probably bright red at the insinuation.

Emmett laughed, “Leaving early to drive this one to a doctor’s appointment,” he jutted a thumb over his shoulder toward his brother, “and we were nearly to the car when we swore we heard the sound of someone screaming.” He eyed Jasper pointedly, his eyes once more traveling around the forest. “Y’know there’s bears out here. You should be careful.”

Jasper snorted, reaching around and wiping wet leaves off his pants, then he skulked over to where he’d dropped his bag and picked it back up, flinging it over his shoulder. “There aren’t bears out here.”

“That you know about!” Emmett pointed a finger just as Edward cleared his throat, apparently tired of being in Jasper’s presence. This was what Jasper meant when he said Emmett was at least friendly. His siblings, not so much. 

“Let’s go, Emmett.” If Edward had started tapping his foot Jasper wouldn’t have been surprised. He reminded Jasper of some stuck-up mom sick of waiting in line at an overcrowded Starbucks.

(Yet another normal, regular thing Forks didn’t even have.)

“Need a lift?” Emmett offered, ignoring his brother and turning fully toward Jasper. “I doubt you’re going back to class and we drive right by your street anyways.” Then he paused, “You live off Hill, right?”

Jasper nodded. “Actually, yeah. If you don’t mind.” Truthfully Jasper didn’t want to spend one more second in these woods, especially if that demon girl was going to show up again. As he turned to follow Emmett his eyes met Edward’s glare. “What?”

Edward didn’t say anything, but he also didn’t move. So when Emmett strode right past him, Jasper close behind, he couldn’t help but think to himself, what the fuck is your problem? as he walked by. But it wasn’t until he and Emmett were several strides away that Jasper swore he heard something.

A growl of some sort, coming from where Edward was still standing, facing the clearing. Jasper turned to look, suddenly wondering what the hell that noise was, when Emmett reached out and grabbed the blond’s shoulder.

“Watch out,” he said, just as Jasper stumbled across an over-grown root.

Catching himself he was thankful for Emmett’s outstretched arm. Clinging to it, he steadied himself, feeling like an idiot as he quietly thanked the guy. When Jasper finally turned his head, Edward was already following after them, his expression severe.

But even as they made it to the car, Jasper pulling his hood up over his head to prevent any of the teachers from recognizing him walking with the Cullen boys, Jasper couldn’t help but wonder what that noise was.

And who that girl was.

[goodfortune-au]

Good Fortune (Soulmate AU) Chapter 14: Games

In the coming weeks of March going into April, there had come the next wave, the next vital stage of his attentions and the days that Angel had started to look forward to the most. These were nothing like the voices in her head, the phantom hands stroking her skin, or the experience of finding him on her favorite TV channel. Angel had spent such time these days simply pining after him, waiting for him to worm his way back into her mind, distract her, take her away from all her worries and doubts. To tell the truth, this wasn’t much different from the days of before, all those days spent patrolling the TV for the Derry Children’s Hour and all the time she spent sleeping in the hopes of stumbling across those delicious dreams once more, but now that she had tasted the true sweetness of his presence, there was simply no turning back now. Yes, Angel had truly experienced something she’d never had the pleasure of experiencing before, that is, the love and touch of another living, breathing thing, and now she wanted more. She wanted more, and knowing that the time was ripe to do so, Pennywise was more than delighted to offer it to her. It had begun one warm April afternoon, when the Losers had come to bless Angel with their blithesome, whimsical company. A conversation about the perils and pitfalls of pre-pubescent life at school eventually dissolved into listless boredom, and then Angel had saved the day with a simple deck of cards. They took to it immediately, all sitting in a circle around the coffee table. It was Angel, followed by Bill, followed by Eds and Richie, followed by Stan. The TV is chattering quietly in the background behind them.

“Alright, host goes first, and we’ll move in clockwise.” Angel had announced. She laid down a blue card inscribed with a three.

Bill is thoughtful for a moment, rifling through his cards and finally he sets one down on top of it. Blue seven. Eds places down a yellow seven and Richie grumbles before drawing a few cards out of the deck in the middle. He finally places down a yellow five and Stan counters with the same number in green. And so the cycle continues, the silence progressively growing more and more tense, just waiting for the first shoe to finally drop. It comes back around to Stan again.

“...Sorry, Anj.” Stan says with a wryness in his voice, as though he wasn’t really sorry. He theatrically sets down a card and a death knell practically descends over her head. “Draw four.”

She gasps dramatically. “You little bastard!” She draws four cards out of the deck with a leisurely chuckle, and then places one of them into the middle with a flourish. Reverse card. “Your turn again, Stan the man. This way you can’t betray me a second time.”

“Fine by me, now I get to betray Richie.” Stan says with a devilish smirk. Skip turn.

“Oh come on!” Richie wails. “I had a good one!”

Eddie snickers and places down a green nine. “Sucks to suck, doesn’t it Trashmouth?” Bill places down a green two.

“Can it, wheezy, or I’ll sic the hounds on you next go around, I've got some good cards.”

“Oh no you won’t.” Angel says with a wag of her finger. Another reverse. The entire party flares up with a chorus of controversy and uproarious laughter. Bill snickers and puts down a second green two, then Eddie follows with a wildcard. “The color is red.”

“Yes!” Richie pipes up with a triumphant shriek. To the horror of everyone, he places down a red skip card in the middle. Stan stares at him silently with contempt.

“Nice one, idiot, now we know what color you have the most cards for.” Eddie says, his tone snide and condescending as he shuffles through his own hand.

“Yeah, and now the color is yellow.” Angel announces, placing down another wildcard.

“NO!” Richie howls. The room flares up again with laughter.

They continue in their childish game, taking one round into the next and then a third and a fourth after that. Bill was a silent and unassuming winner, taking home the gold in the first two games and Stan and Angel taking home the third and fourth. As time goes on everyone is growing increasingly bitter at one another, a cloud of competitive loathing settling over all of them as they fight to best the next player. Angel could sense the tension growing in the air, tension surely unavoidable in such a high stakes game as this, and couldn’t stop herself from becoming consumed in the heat of it as well. She’s sitting crosslegged on the couch, leaning forward in her anticipation for the next move, waiting to see what pandemonium surely awaits with the placement of each new card. After a while, though, they all fall into caustic silence. The clock ticks insistently overhead. The chatter on the TV seems to grow louder in the increasing absence of sound. Then the matter-of-fact words of a news reporter gradually intrudes in on their collective thoughts, and before they know it grim conversation is born from the quiet.

“Who knows who’s doing it?” Eds had said. “I hear about this shit constantly, but they never seem to catch anyone.” He sets down a blue four. “Your turn Bill.”

Bill puts down a green four. “Yeah, it’s... It’s ruh-really weird. T-two kids from a grade down went m-m-missing in the last month. The p-police don’t even have leads on them, and it's been weeks.” He says quietly. Angel feels her stomach start to roil with something unpleasant but she ignores it. She puts down a green six and doesn’t say anything.

“It feels like the police don’t even care.” Stan adds, placing down a card of his own. “I mean, they say they’re looking for the missing people, but my dad says that’s just a bunch of bullshit posturing.”

“Really, Rabbi Uris said that?” Angel asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Well,” Stan says sheepishly. “Not in those exact words.”

“I don’t know, man, it just feels like things have been different lately.” Eddie says, placing down a reverse card. “Things haven’t really been the same since... You know, ever since...”

Ever since Georgie.

They all fall into discontented silence. Bill is the quietest of them all. The TV continues on behind them, unphased.

“...Hey, uh, can we get a fuckin’ change of scenery in here?” Richie breaks the silence loudly. There’s an uncharacteristic nervous edge to his voice. “I hate the news- it's, uh, it’s killing my buzz, know what I mean?”

They all immediately agree. Angel picks up the remote. “Good idea.” She says uneasily. She starts to flip through the various available channels.

“Your turn again Angel.”

“Oh. Uh...” She interrupts herself to place a card into the middle and then refocuses her attention back on the screen. There’s a baseball game on Channel 4, a hokey soap opera on Channel 10, a couple dull historical documentaries on Channels 14 and 15... Yawn. She continues. Even Channel 27 was nothing but static. She sighs and gets up, disrupting the game briefly to pluck a movie off the shelf instead. She slides her choice into the VCR slot and lets it play, comforted by the familiar sound of product-placement ads she’d heard a thousand times before. Everyone else seems instantly placated by the change of tone in the room too. The Paramount Pictures logo flashes briefly over the screen, and then the sound of a radio host announcing the beautiful weather in the city of Chicago cuts in sharply over the silence.

“Ferris Bueller?” Richie mutters absentmindedly, his eyes flickering up to the TV as he rifles through his cards. “Good choice, Anj.”

“...Ferris? Ferris? Tooooom!”

Two well-to-do parents are fussing over their apparently sickly child. “What, what’s wrong?” His father asks.

“What’s wrong ? For Christ’s sake look at him honey!”

He’s laying in bed, eyes wide as saucers, staring off into space. His father says his name and his spacey stare rolls lazily upward. He seems dazed and fatigued but it’s clearly an act, his voice child-like as he addresses them from under the covers and dramatically plays up his imagined illness. His theatrical performance is laughable and thin but somehow they miraculously buy into it anyway, even insisting he stay in bed as he makes meek attempts to sit up. “I have a test today,” He says, in intentionally weak protest. “I have to take it. I wanna go to a good college so I can have a fruitful life.” His mother adamantly refuses out of concern. “Honey, you’re not going to school like this now.”  Cynical big sister arrives in the room, rightly skeptical of her brother’s supposed ailment but is nonetheless dismissed by her family anyway.

“I’m okay,” Ferris says after she’s gone. “I’ll just sleep. Maybe I’ll have an aspirin around noon.”

After not much deliberation, the parents both agree to let him stay home, telling him they’ll check on him and to call them at work should he need anything. He hams it up even more, buttering them up with weak praise, lauding them for being such loving, caring parents, and they both bid him an affectionate goodbye. They start to leave the room, and his mother tells him she loves him before starting to shut the door behind her. There’s silence. After all is well and the boy is alone in his room, he cautiously sits up in bed. He listens to the door close, and then his eyes dart to the center of the screen. He’s smug.

“They bought it.”

The game continues on as though it had never been disturbed. The unpleasant conversation of before is nothing but a distant memory now, their minds now engrossed in the intense heat of competition once more. A fifth game turns into a sixth, and the better part of an hour passes over their preoccupation. Though the kids seem to have forgotten the grim topic of the disappearances, Angel is less fortunate, and whether she likes it or not, thoughts of it all are starting to stew in her mind again. It was true, Angel had been able to dodge these ruminations lately as a result of her lovesick euphoria, but they had all been buried in a shallow grave rather than six feet under. It was hard to ignore the unease creeping up when she was reminded of everything she’d heard and experienced, and then slowly but surely those thoughts would come rising to the surface again for her lack of delight. She didn’t like thinking of it, of any of it. If she’d had her way, she would happily keep her head buried in the sand with Pennywise and never let her mind linger on any of it ever again. But no such luck unfortunately. The only thing worse than being aware of such strange and ominous dealings was the frustrating knowledge of knowing there was nothing you could do to stop them. Angel had given up a long time ago on any foolish notion of ending whatever force of evil lurked within the town, not that she ever truly had had such a notion in the first place. No, Angel was more than aware that she was fairly inconsequential to this town, even as an apparent fascination for an esoteric guardian angel, and that there was little chance at all she might have any sway over its cosmic fate. But it didn’t stop her from feeling guilty about it all. It was such a futile and helpless feeling she couldn’t control.

Angel pushes it from her mind and tries to become consumed in the game again. In the process her mind starts to wander to other places, and she wonders where Pennywise might be now. He hadn’t been around much in the last few days; though of course, when he wasn’t whispering in her ear or monopolizing her attention on the TV, he was present in other ways. He would leave her gifts and notes just as he had done before, and they were more affectionate now, more personal. He’d leave her things that specifically catered to her interests. Special inking pens he’d conjured up from god only knows where, little pinback buttons and squares of fabric perfect for patch-making, her favorite candies from childhood... She thought it so sweet that he was trying so hard to keep her interest. It was refreshing and new and she, so enamored with him, leaned into the attention wholeheartedly. Pennywise knew it to be important to keep laying on the charm, knew it was crucial to continue in his courting behavior, but he had held off on continuing to be there with her in person, at least for the time being. He wanted her to long for his touch and his presence, wanted her to want him there, holding her, keeping her within the unwavering security of his protection. The time was coming for him to make his return, however, and the reunion would be so sweet, so delightful, the beginning of a new stage in their budding relationship. He had been so patient in the weeks following Valentine’s Day, and now he simply couldn’t wait to be with her again. He would come back to her, and she would welcome him with open arms.

“Oh, you motherfucker.” Richie breathed.

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off had finally reached its third act, and now focused on a conversation between the eponymous character’s girlfriend and best friend. They walk through Chicago’s crowded downtown thoroughfares during a lively parade, discussing Ferris and his whereabouts, seeming to have lost him somewhere in the crowd along the way. They’re meandering through hundreds of people trying to find him, the chatter around them loud and boisterous as they make their way down the congested street. The kids paid little attention to the movie, focused instead on the happenings within the fascinating yet frustrating world of Uno. Angel finds herself having forgotten about Pennywise and everything else for the time being, having gotten absorbed in the game herself once more. Bill had a tally of three games won now, Stan with two, Rich with one, Eddie with four somehow, and Angel with two, but the group had now forgotten how many games they’d played, having gotten lost in it for hours. They were playing through the deck for the umpteenth time, and this one had been a real nail biter so far. So many twists and turns, flimsy alliances turned inevitable betrayals, and obscenities shouted at one another that it was truly a sight to behold. At one point Mayor Jello had sauntered into the room, gotten a good, long look at the unfolding commotion, and promptly slinked back out to attend to his own matters.

“You can’t stack draw fours!” Richie had exclaimed incredulously. “That’s against the rules!”

“Nuh uh.” Angel informs him, reclining back on the couch. “House rules. Stacked draw twos and draw fours are totally free game.”

“Yeah, Richie. Read ‘em and weep.” Eds says smugly.

“Fuck that shit!” He’s appalled. “I refuse to honor three stacked draw fours!”

Psst.

“You can’t just refuse, dipshit!”

“Like hell I can’t! I’ve got seventeen cards already, it’s not fair!”

“You’re being a sore loser, Rich.” Stan sighed.

Psst. Hey.

They continue to squabble amongst themselves. Richie is adamant and will not budge, and everyone else is needling him to simply honor it and move on.

“Okay then, if you pussies get to stack draw fours, then I get to do this.” He throws down a blue reverse card.

“Hey, you can’t do that!”

“Sure I can. If you get a pass on breaking the rules then I get a pass too.” Richie says with a shrug. “Draw twelve, asshole.”

“I’m not drawing twelve, Richie!”

Psst.

She finally hears it. Her ears perk up.

Angel.

While they’re arguing, she feels a shiver run up her spine, and she turns to face the source of the sound. The TV. The movie is still playing, Alan Ruck and Mia Sara still journeying through downtown Chicago, the crowd still chattering on in an endless chorus of white noise. A voice starts to address them from a P.A speaker; one familiar, smooth and lilting, but nothing at all like Ferris’s.

“Ladies and gentlemen, you’re such a wonderful crowd. We’d like to play a little tune for you. It’s one of my personal favorites, and I’d like to dedicate it to a very special girl who doesn’t know just how special she is. Angel, darling, look at me.”

She stares hard, her whole world dissolving into static around her. The camera shot falls on a parade float in the center of the screen, but instead of Ferris dramatically lip syncing the words to Danke Schoen on the stage, Pennywise has bafflingly taken his place on the screen somehow. She’s warm now, she can’t believe her eyes as he walks among the costumed dancers, miming the words and playfully gesturing with his hands toward the center of the screen. He was singing to her.

Danke schoen, darling, danke schoen

Thank you for all the joy and pain

Picture shows, second balcony was the place we'd meet

Second seat, go Dutch treat, you were sweet

Danke schoen, darling, danke schoen

Save those lies, darling don't explain

I recall Central Park in fall

How you tore your dress, what a mess, I confess, that’s not all

He turns to face her completely now, and the movie continues on without him uninterrupted. The children don’t seem to notice his voice, or his presence on the TV. They simply proceed in their heated contention. It's just him and her.

“Hello, sweetness. It's so nice to see your lovely face again.”

Warm phantom hands cup her hips now and she has to resist the urge to gasp. He’s firm but affectionate.

“Uh uh, precious girl. Keep it quiet, would you? Wouldn’t want them to catch on to us, hmm?”

She gulps with a nod and holds her breath as those hands start to wander up, over her clothes, toward her cotton-clad breasts.

“Yes... I’m sure you’re not ready to have that conversation, are you? Wouldn’t even know how to explain it... Oh, look at you, your face is already all red. Cute little Angel. Cute cute cute!”

His hands ghost delicately over her breasts and go to her collarbone, stroking sensually there with one feather-light finger until she’s squirming. He cups her cheek now.

“Oh, darling... How good your skin feels underneath my fingers… Did you like my song? Did you find it as lovely as I find you? Oh, hold on- I think I have another one coming up.”

You had better watch me.

Richie smacks Eddie’s cards out of his hand and the argument flares up again. Angel doesn’t even process it. She’s off in her own world now, and his touch is so titillating that she feels that tingle start to work its way from her belly all the way between her legs again, even as Twist and Shout comes on over the loudspeaker. Pennywise is lip-syncing the words to the upbeat number now, shimmying and dancing on the parade float as he pretends to sing into the microphone. All the while those hands are continuing to grope at her body, lewdly venturing over her curves while a marching band spiritedly plays along to the tune. They follow the beats of the song with brassy enthusiasm.

Well, shake it up, baby, now

Twist and shout

Come on, come on, come, come on, baby, now

Come on and work it on out

Well, work it on out

You know you look so good

You know you got me goin' now

Just like I know you would

Pennywise is bolstered by the excitement of the crowd and the sheer look on Angel’s face, the way she can’t keep her eyes off him and his on-screen antics. A small flash mob starts to form in a plaza and they mime the words too as they dance down a small flight of concrete steps. The entirety of the parade seems to have congregated around the float in a circle now; the parade-goers are all caught in their own rhythm, moving in different fashions but all in tandem at the same time as they sing along. And all the while Angel is staring, her heart pulsing restlessly inside of her, ignorant of the kids’ growing dissent amongst one another.

Well, shake it up, baby, now

Twist and shout

Come on, come on, come, come on, baby, now

Come on and work it on out

You know you twist, little girl

You know you twist so fine

Come on and twist a little closer now

And let me know that you're mine

That feeling inside of her belly is only growing more and more as she watches him. The way he struts and sashays across the stage of the float, the way he performs so electrically that it riles up the whole crowd; she can hear the bells on his suit jingling with every one of his movements, the sound ringing in her ears as she fights to maintain some semblance of normalcy and composure. And all the while his eyes keep flickering back into hers, reminding her just who he was singing to, just who he was doing this all for.

Who she belonged to.

“Angel, tell Richie he’s being fucking ridiculous!” Eddie demands, and suddenly she snaps back into focus.

“You’re the one who’s being ridiculous! Now you’re telling me you can use a fucking skip card on yourself?”

“Yeah, I figured if we’re all breaking rules, why not?”

“That just passes the draw twelve onto Bill! He doesn’t deserve that!”

“Oh, so I do deserve it?”

“Guys, for the love of god, shut up!” Angel practically roars, her assessment of the situation all suddenly caught up again.

They all fall quiet. She sighs a labored sigh and pinches the bridge of her nose. When she glances at the TV screen out of the corner of her eye, she notices the movie is back to normal. No Pennywise miming the words to Twist and Shout, no saucy side glances or teasing little gestures, just Ferris amid the cheering parade crowd. She can’t feel his hands anymore either.

“You know guys,” She says with another heaving sigh. “It's getting late- I think you should probably be heading home after this game.”

“Okay but-”

“Richie, just take the damn loss and draw twelve, I’m not gonna watch you two bicker and argue for another three hours.”

He sulks. “Fiiiiiine.” He draws his cards, angry cloud of chagrin palpable in a three foot radius around him.

The game continues. As they slowly make their way through the rest of the deck, Angel finds her thoughts wandering back to Pennywise; wondering where he had gone, if he might come back, finding that she missed him and his touch, not that it was at all surprising. The children have come to a stiff truce and are now quietly placing their cards into the center pile, leaving her to continue stewing over his whereabouts. To tell the truth, the sight of him was such a pleasant surprise that she’d gotten a little… Excited. She hadn’t seen him in days, had only kept correspondence with him through the gifts. He hadn’t even been talking to her all that much; the last time she’d heard his voice was on Tuesday as she had been drifting off to sleep, and though she hadn’t dreamt of him, she could still feel his presence keeping her warm throughout the night. But after that, nothing. If not for the gifts, she would have thought that he was abandoning her again, would have sent that familiar panicky dread roiling up in her gut at the idea of being left behind, but thankfully there was no such feeling of alienation. There was only this delicious feeling of want and desire, bubbling up inside of her as she watched him dance and perform; just for her, only for her, making her feel special. It was a feeling that only seemed to become more apparent as the days went on, this delightful little feeling that made her start to lose her grip on reality. She starts to get lost in that wonderful madness, vacantly placing cards into the pile with every turn, silently contemplating the scenario of his return and finding that a blush was starting to stain her cheeks again at the thought of him. His tall form, his striking eyes, those massive hands; towering over her, looking into her, pinning her against the wall-

“Dirty, dirty, naughty little girl.” His voice whispers directly in her ear. “You’ve got company over, you should control yourself.”

She almost gasps but she restrains herself. She can hear the smile in his voice, can almost see him wagging a finger at her.

“...Need to wait, little thing, need to be patient.” The phantom hands are back at her waist, slowly trailing down to rest at her hips again. Soft and gentle, comforting and sweet. It drives her mad.

“Reverse card. Angel, it’s your turn.”

Suddenly she’s not paying attention again. She’s whining silently, she’s screaming at him in her mind and that only seems to please him more. His voice evokes a shit-eating grin now.

“Wouldn’t… Want to rush things, would we? No, no… We should take our time, we should savor it all…”

Those hands are wandering lower, lower, ever so slightly…

“Angel?”

Her heart is thundering against her chest. She swallows hard, staring off into the space at her feet as she sits, rooted to the spot. He chuckles in her ear as he watches her squirm, clearly delighted at her embarrassment. “Orrrrrr…” He whispers. Her heart stops.

“Angel, are you okay?”

“Maybe... Just maybe... We should throw all that caution to the wind, be bold, adventurous. Maybe I should just wait until they leave. Maybe I should wait until you’re all alone, and then I’ll come... I’ll back you up against the wall, corner you with no escape like a pretty little mouse. Tell me, would you like that?” His hand trails inward, his voice raspy and sonorous in her ear, and her breath hitches in her throat when it brushes up against the tender spot between her legs.

“How about it, pretty girl?”

How about it?

“P-Pennywise…” She breathes.

"Dude, she’s zoned out.”

“Angel!”

She snaps out of it.

“What? What?” She’s pressing her hands to her hot cheeks.

“You spaced out.”

“Are you okay?”

“...What’s P-P-Pennywise?”

She shakes her head quickly. “Sorry, I…” She finally processes the last question and feels her cheeks getting hotter again underneath her fingers. “Nothing, no one.” She clears her throat and thumbs through her hand, placing a red six into the center pile. But his voice is still there, calling to her, teasing her, needling her, just trying to get her to break.

“...Hey Angel,” he breathes huskily. “Wanna hear a poem I wrote for you? It goes like this- Roses are red, violets are fine, you be the six, and I’ll be the--”

Stop. Stop. She tries her best to look normal now but she’s starting to sweat profusely. They continue in the game; there’s a palpable uneasiness settling over all of them but each and every one of them just tries to ignore it. Red nine, red four, blue four, blue skip; blue seven, green seven, wildcard yellow, draw four. Angel is trying her best to ignore him, ignore his little games and rhyming; ignore the pleasure building inside despite her greatest attempts to fight it off, ignore her embarrassment and the way she could feel them all staring at her. The day was long now and she wanted them to go so it could finally be over. She places down another card.

“Oh ho ho, I can see how flustered you are, darling! Poor girl, poor little pet… Be careful now, they’re starting to worry…”

She’s so frustrated that she can hardly breathe. Her face feels like a furnace. She can’t even look them in the face now as she continues laying cards down into the middle of the pile; she can only keep her eyes rooted shamefully at her feet as she listens to the clock tick judgmentally overhead. The minutes crawl by at a snail’s pace, but thankfully the game is nearing its end. Pennywise continues his teasing though, content to torture Angel with his words and devilish sing-song as she fights to maintain her thinly-veiled facade. Stan appears to be pulling ahead, he’s about to call Uno but then-

“Pennywise and Angel sittin’ in a tree, F-U-C-K-I-N--”

“OKAY!” She cries out suddenly. They all jump about ten feet off the ground. She immediately processes her outburst, and now she chokes, she struggles to explain herself. “It’s uh…. It’s getting late guys. I think,” She swallows. “Think you should all be getting home.”

“Jesus Christ, are you okay? Your face is on fuckin’ fire dude.”

“I’m fine!” She insists. “I’m just… Not feeling good. But I’ll be okay, I just need to sleep.”

“Angel-”

“Talk soon?”

She practically pushes them all out the door, and they leave behind a mess of Uno cards amid their protest. She reiterates that she’s fine and then they all hesitantly bid her goodbye from her stoop, further unnerved when she doesn’t even reply. She shuts the door, she takes a deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth. All of his teasing had gotten to her more than she cared to admit; she couldn't help it, no one had ever shown her such attention before, especially not... That kind of attention, not unless they were trying to be insulting. She found it facetious, vulgar in a way that was amusing and fun, though she'd be lying if she said the time and place could not have been any more inappropriate. The worries of what the kids must think is slowly seeping into her brain and she feels her face getting red all over again. What would they think if they... If they knew? It's not as though it were anything bad, she just... Wouldn't know how to explain any of it. How he had romanced her with all of his gifts, the way they'd met... The things he was saying. Oh god. They were privy to a lot of dirty jokes, sure, (Lord knows Richie was incapable of working anything but blue) but she simply couldn't divulge such intimate details of her own romantic courtship like that, they had no business in it. She's sure they wouldn't understand anyway, that they might misconstrue his intentions and try to convince her that he was bad news or something. Children though they were, they were much more mature than most of the adults in this town, and they were not immune to being overprotective of her. She tries not to let her concerns get to her so much, not right now. Now, all she could do was simply splash cold water on her face, put all the Uno cards back where they came from, and leave this mortifying ordeal behind her. She takes another deep breath and sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose and rubbing her face tiredly. She counts to five and when she turns around she has to bite back a breathless shriek.

[the-space-above-the-stars]

good luck charm

drag racer!lucas wong x reader

Summary: Lucas Wong is your best friend. He’s also the dumbest motherfucker you’ve ever laid eyes on, a realization you come to after one faithful drag race.

Warnings: dangerous driving (wear seat belts and obey the speed limit, kids) , drinking, cussing

Word Count: 2k

Genre: fluff, angst if you squint?

A/N: I’m curious, who are all y’all biases in NCT? Do you have a bias? Is it even possible with 21 crackheads? This is also unedited, so have no expectations. 

If you drove east for 15 minutes from where you lived, there was an abandoned lot on the edge of town, surrounded by a wire fence. Something big used to stand there, but it was torn down over 20 years ago. Over that time, it became many things. A place for kids to make out, do drugs, throw up graffiti, even the focus of an ill-funded effort to clean the city up. But most recently, someone from your school had realized that this was the perfect place to race cars.

And so the tradition of Friday Night Racing started, high school and college kids bringing their cars down to gamble with money and their lives. Their was a certain level of secrecy about the whole thing, as everyone knew a snitch could land everyone in jail. Kun, the most reluctant and most trustworthy, set the dates and handled the lineups and money.

It was definitely not your style. The place always smelled like stale beer and cigarette butts and almost every other week some kid would get hurt, but every week you still waited by your window, phone charged in your pocket and backpack ready with a first aid kit for Lucas to pull up in his Mustang.

Lucas, Yukhei to his friends and Xuxi to you and you only, was your best friend since the eighth grade. You had both landed in detention and you had managed to get both you and him out with an excuse about needing to visit the nurse that the poor substitute teacher watching over you both bought. You got slushees on the way home, him paying as a thank you, and ever since then you’ve been friends.

Lucas races. When he entered 9th grade he fixed up his dads old Mustang and entered his first race. You called him an idiot, but you still fixed him up when he came back slightly banged up with the money he one clutched in his fist. He was good. You knew he never lost a race on purpose. Sometimes he fudges up on purpose to fuck with the other racers, but he’s still always the first person crossing that finish line.

He knows you hate the races but that doesn’t stop his dumb smile as he pulls up in your driveway. “Can’t forget my lucky charm,” He tells you every time, with a wink that makes you smack him on the back of the head. As if dragging you along isn’t enough, before every race starts he taps his cheek and turns his head for the mandatory good luck kiss that you’ve never failed to give him. 

Maybe it’s because you’re in love with him. Have been ever since he dethroned Jackson Wang from the spot of best racer in a one on one race. You remember how his car had barely come to a stop before he jumped out, and you could barely yell at him about safety before he had picked you up and spun you around in a big hug, placing a big kiss on your forehead. Fuck, you had thought at the way your heart was beating. Fucking hell. 

And so here you were, mid July waiting in your bedroom window for Lucas. Like always, he was bordering on being late. Your backpack was thrown over one shoulder, wearing a Nirvana t-shirt and ripped jeans. It was too hot for much else. Finally, you perked up at the sound of a car engine as Lucas slowly pulls his red mustang into your driveway, so as not to wake your parents. “Come on, Rapunzel,” he grins as he climbs out. 

“You’re late,” you call down as you toss him your bag, climbing down the downspout and jumping onto the ground. “Again.” He rolls his eyes as he tosses your bag in the bag, jumping over the driver side door as you do the same on the other side. 

“Oh, your highness I’m so sorry to have inconvenienced you, what a pity to be late to something you didn’t even want to go to-” With a laugh, you punch him in the side and he pulls out of your driveway. The Mustang purrs smoothly, Lucas steering with one of his hands wrapped around the wheel. The other one rests on the dash, long fingers tapping out the beat to a song you don’t recognize. The ride should take 15 minutes but when has he ever followed the speed limit. It’s just a suggestion, you remember him saying to you with a dumb smirk. 

The races are pretty much already in full swing, some of the newer racers already shooting off. Someone’s playing music out of their car and there’s definitely alcohol. “No drinking!” You slap Lucas’s arm as he reaches for the bottle of vodka. “Go win, dumbass, and then I’ll let you get shitfaced.”

“Nice to see your confidence in me, shortcake.”  He bends over as he speaks to you and boops your nose. You’re two seconds from jumping him when someone taps his shoulder. 

“Lucas,” Jackson Wang smirks, ignoring the girl basically throwing herself at him. “Just the man I wanted to see.” 

“Wang,” Lucas stands to his full height and you roll your eyes. “Came to see  me win again?” 

“Actually I have a proposition for you.” Putting two fingers in his mouth he whistles and the music stops. People turn their eyes to the three of you. “One on one, you and me. 2 laps around the lot. What do you say?” 

“Didn’t you get enough fun of me beating you last time? What fun do I get out of proving what everyone here already knows?” 

Jackson chuckles, and it almost sounds dangerous. “How did I know you were gonna want to bet? Okay, how about this. Loser leaves the races. Forever.” 

“Throw in the winner’s car.” Lucas interrupts, looking over at Jackson’s sleek black Corvette.

“Deal. And the winner...” Jackson looks around and you almost recoil when his eyes land on you. “Gets a kiss with L/N.” Lucas’s smile drops and your eyes widen. Jackson smirks at Lucas’s reaction, giving him a smug shrug of his shoulders. “Seems fair to me.” 

“What the fuck-” Lucas shakes Jackson’s hand, dead seriousness written on his face as his knuckles turn white. They both head to their cars. “Xuxi!” 

“Relax, Y/N/N, I’m gonna win, so you don’t have to worry about kissing Wang.” 

“This is stupid. And ridiculous, you already beat him once, you know Jackson plays dirty-” 

“You do realize all this is going in one ear and out the other. I’ll be back in two laps, and then I’ll have a new black Corvette. Might even let you drive it.” He winks with a dumb grin as he tilts his cheek. You kiss him before he can even ask. Then you give him another. “Two? Wow, I must be special.” 

“No, you just need double the luck. Go. Don’t die, or I’ll kill you.” 

Seulgi, as usual does the honors as she walks up to the starting line, red handkerchief in hand. “Racers ready?” Her response is the simultaneous revving of two engines as Lucas and Jackson reach the starting line. She raises the make shift flag, and with a wave, is left in a cloud of dust and smoke as both cars take off. 

For most of the first lap, they are neck in neck. Jackson’s obviously fixed up his car since the last time they raced. But as they reach the first turn, Lucas hits the gas and pulls ahead, drifting around the roundabout and shooting off. Jackson has to swerve to avoid being hit and regains himself before following. You can basically hear the smug smirk on Lucas’s face. 

He stays ahead for most of the first lap but as they reach the second, Jackson pulls next to him and bumps his car, making him go off the road slightly. As he pulls back in, Jackson shoots off, Lucas racing to catch up with him. Your heart’s beating in your ears, nerves builgingup with the prospect of Lucas being banned from the races. And of course, kissing Jackson Wang. 

100 feet. 80 feet. 60 feet. They’re 40 feet from the finish line when Lucas pulls ahead and turns his car completely sideways in front of Jackson’s, drifting across the finish line. He straightens himself out and stops the car before jumping out. Hey, at least he stopped this time. “What did I tell you, shortcake?” He preens, bending over to be your height as he pokes your forehead. “You’re not kissing Wang and I get a new car, it’s a win win.” 

“Yeah, shut up idiot. Come on, let’s grab slushies.” You try to ignore the dull thump of dissapointment in your chest. The bet was that the winner would kiss you. But he’s chosen to forget that apparently. 

Jackson climbs out of his car, tongue pressed against the inside of his mouth as he rolls his eyes at Lucas. “Sorry L/N maybe another time.” Lucas lunges at him, but stops as a voice breaks through the air. 

“COPS!” The whole place goes silent as someone yells, and there’s the faint noise of sirens down the street. Everything goes to hell the next second as screams break out and racers run for their cars, people who came on foot jump into other’s cars or start climbing the fence. 

“Come on, haul ass!” Lucas yells, grabbing your hand and pushing you into his car. “Seatbelts-” he cuts himself off by putting the car in drive and hitting the gas, pulling out of the lot just as the first cop car turns the corner. 

*** Lucas pulls into a stop right in front of your house, eyes wide as his hands relax around the wheel. “Jesus fucking christ, my heart’s beating so hard.” Without hesitation, he grabs your hand and places it over his chest, leaving you to ignore the less than platonic thoughts in your head. “Jesus, do you think they’ll shut the races down?” 

“No,” you speak with certainty as you move your hand. “All the racers got away, I’m positive the only people they got were the kids who got shit faced. The most they can do is fine them for underage drinking.”   A comfortable silence fills the car as you both catch your breath, but of course it doesn’t last as Lucas takes your hand in his. “Good thing you kissed me twice, huh? Or we probably wouldn’t be lucky enough to get out of there.” 

Know what, fuck just being friends. Fuck Lucas Wong when he says shit like that that makes you question if he really just likes you as a friend. You’ll never know what you both could be if you don’t try. “I love you, Xuxi.”  You’re not looking him in the eyes. You expect him to drop your hand and stutter out some excuse or an apology, but what you don’t expect is that he lets out a laugh. 

“Aww, Y/N I love you too,” He puts his head on your shoulder. “Where would I be without my best friend, huh? Now go get some sleep, it’s almost morning.” It feels like a weird dream as you stumble out of his car and climb the downspout, giving him a fake smile before he pulls out with a wave. 

Today’s been exhausting. Flopping down on your bed, you turn to see the photo on your table. Both you and Lucas on the top of the ferris wheel at the carnival last year. Your tongues are blue from slushies and you’ve got a big plushie he won at the bottle toss. His arm is around you and you’re both grinning like idiots. “Why are you such an idiot, Xuxi?” You whisper, rolling over and burying your face in a pillow. 

If anything good came out of today, it was one piece of knowledge. 

1. Lucas Wong is oblivious. 

A/N: Should I make a second part? I feel like this could be a oneshot but idk if people want a second part to this. Requests are open. 

[sabine-leo]

Dreadful Silence - Part 6

Author: @sabine-leo

Rated: M

Genre: Angst, Insecurity, Hurt / Comfort, Humor and Fluff

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston / You

Part: 6/?

Summary: After an illness your brain experienced a trauma which caused it to lose the ability to speak out loud what you want to say. To get back on your feet after months in the hospital and secluding yourself from the world takes a big amount of courage and strength. Gladly there are helping hands… those of your friends…and handsome strangers

Trigger warning: Ilness, speechlessness, Aphasia, Bullying

Note: Thank you for getting through the emotional part with me :) It will get better now :) 

The first hours you had slept without moving a millimetre away from Tom. But later, as the first exhaustion had lifted your sleep got more restless. You turned and moved for a moment until Tom engulfed you in his arms again and stroked you back into a deeper sleep murmuring a poem because he could not think of something else as tired as he was himself. As morning came your heavy eyelids where hard to open, but you were conscious enough to register the heat around you and the strong arm above your waist. Tom…he was still asleep.

 Your mind began to spin nearly already, trying to recall the hours after the incident in the theatre. Shit, you had ran away…leaving him behind. You had made him search you for what felt like hours to you right now. You had made all your friends and Tom scared and searching for you…because of what…one woman who wanted to get into Toms pants and needed you out of the way.

Her words had hurt you, she had been like a hunter…knowing exactly where your week spot was just after seconds of looking at you. But you didn´t want to be prey, you didn´t want to be hunted anymore! Could you not have made this conclusion any earlier? Shit you had to apologize to everybody for yesterday, but most frightened you were about Toms reaction.

 He had cared for you, he had stayed, but he must be angry with you for leaving him like that, for making him run through London half the night. For Christ sake, he had showered you and tucked you in like a scared child after a nightmare. This was not something he should have needed to do, you are his girlfriend, not a child he needed to look after… or were you his girlfriend?!

“Thoughts….can hear them!” Tom rasped sleepily and tucked you closer.

“Sorry!” You said quietly and tried to hold still…even your mind. 2 minutes later Tom started to move a bit and came even closer to you. Nearly locking you in his embrace. “Tom?” you asked hoarse.

“Wouldn´t want you to run again, would we?” He looked at you with sleepy eyes and smiled half a smile. “But love, we are having a conversation regarding yesterday, and we are having it now. I don´t want your sweet little mind running another marathon like earlier!”

 Here it comes, you thought….

 “Can´t…sign..that…way!” You got out, not registering that the words were in one piece, not cut up and stuttered anymore. Tom shrugged. “You don´t need to for this moment because you will listen to me at first!”  Closing your eyes for a second because you felt that they began to burn you just tried to nod and gulped. He was breaking up with you for what had happened. You knew it…

 “Love, open your eyes please, look at me. I want you to look into my eyes and see that I do mean everything I say!!!” His voice was soft, warm even. Did he try to make the fall more comfortable?

You peeked out of one eye at first which made Tom laugh a little.

“What happened yesterday was probably one of the worst feelings I had in…ever.” He started.

“Seeing your face go all pale and then run out on me, jumping into that train that I could not reach in time…not knowing where you would go…I was scared out of my mind, darling.”

You tried to say something, but Tom wasn´t finished.

 “If it wasn´t for Julia, I would not even have known where to look for you…”

He had to clear his throat.

“Finding you on top of that hill broke my heart and stitched it together again the same time. I was so relieved to see you were in one piece and somewhat save!” He did not mention how much like a wreck you must have looked! “Having you in my arms again and knowing that I could hold you close and keep you save and that I was the one that could care for you now, with the backup from your best friends eased me. I won´t lie, for some moments I wanted to shield you from everything, put you in bubble wrap and hide you in my Tower!” He grinned a little bit.

“But that will not solve the problem, love!”

 Taking a deep breath, he looked deep into your eyes. “You need to trust me, you need to trust us.” He stroked a strand of hair out of your face. “But for the most part, you need to trust yourself. You need to believe that you are stronger than any of those bullies out there. WE are stronger!” His nose nudged yours in a sweet gesture. “I can´t say that I am not hurt a bit, but THIS does not change ANYTHING between us. I do understand why you reacted how you reacted but please…Don´t shut me out again. I am your boyfriend, I can handle your hurt and pain, but I can´t handle you running away from me again!” His voice broke with his last words.

 Now the both of you had tears in their eyes.

He was not breaking up with you?! He had said very clearly how he felt and what he needed from you now. But it was nothing you could not give him. He just asked for something you should have given him all along. Trust, without holding back, without keeping some part of it still to yourself.

Your arms were still engulfed in his embrace and your voice would only betray you now.

Ah, to hell with it! “I…can…do.. that!” You said slowly. “I…trust…you! I am…so…sorry for….hurting…you!” Tears spilled out of your and Toms eyes. “You better!” he rasped, smiling a little before he kissed you full of the emotion that had build up since yesterday!

 Tom slowly let go of you so that you would be able to get your arms out of his embrace. But you weren´t ready to let go…your arms lifted around him as much as possible and tucked him close again.

Now he wasn´t just holding you, no…you were holding each other! A slow soft kiss before he smiled at you and asked. “How are your muscles feeling? Are you very sore?!”

Your arms and legs still hurt when you moved in a certain way, but you would live.

“I think you´ll have some more guests in the next half hour…Let´s get you up and moving?”

Tom yawned and shook his head to keep himself focused. “And me too!”

 Lifting a hand to his cheek you began to stroke his stubbled jaw.

“I….am…glad…you´re..still..here…” You said slowly and quietly. “Thank..you..Tom!”

Tom smiled the first deep, eye-reaching smile since yesterday.

“You will not get rid of me that fast, love.” Thieving another kiss Tom hugged you one last time before he got out of bed to stretch his long and lean body. You watched him with a smile before you took a steeling breath and tried to sit up yourself. “OUCH!”  you whined as you stood and stretched yourself.

 “Sitting still will not help, as much as it hurts… you and me will take a walk later!”

The gloves were probably off now. Tom would not hold back any longer… he would push you more as he had done already, but you needed to get a grip on that because everything else would be futile to your health, mental as bodily! Nodding you smiled a little. “If…I live..after my… friends were…here”

Tom laughed “I´ll try to keep you save darling! They were scared too!”

 Half an hour later you and Tom had prepared a big full English breakfast, maybe this would lighten the mood a bit before they would bite your head off. A soft knock sounded at the door.

“You can ring the bell! I smell beans on toast!” Sam’s voice sounded and he rang the bell and knocked the same time. Laughing you opened the door and smiled at your friends who were lined up and looked at you. Tom appeared behind you and smiled. “You smelled right Sam…I hope you are hungry!”

 The men stumbled in first. All hugging you and kissing your cheek. Julia came last. She looked at you.

“You ok?” was all she asked. You nodded and signed to her.

 Yes, Tom screwed my head on straight again after waking up. I am so sorry I made you go through this again. I can´t even explain why that bitch got to me like that. Thank you for helping him find me and for waiting for me to come down. I love you!

 Julia sighed and dabbed away a tear. “Be prepared to sign that again for everybody else! But I love you too!” She hugged you and went inside. Closing the door with a sigh you took a breath. That was the first step… As everybody was seated you were the only one standing and the eyes of your friends were weary and tired. They didn´t seem to have slept well this night.

 You signed to them what you had told Julia at the door and added a bit more, tried to ease their feelings and the hurt you had caused them…again. Sam got up and hugged you. He was like a brother to you and that would never change. “You had made good progress before yesterday, don´t let that set you back to the start again. You have all of us as a shield if need be, but you need to get a thicker skin. There will always be bitches like her. Show her, don´t run. Head held high and forward we go!” He winked at you and hugged you again. “Now….can we eat? I am starving lady!” He grinned and set back down. Tom laughed and rubbed his hands. “Me too, dig in!”

 Everybody stuffed their faces, but you just watched for a minute. Smiling. You had lucked out with these lot. Your friends didn´t shy away when the water got a bit rougher. No, they strapped their life-vests tighter and held on for the ride. And Tom…he was heaven sent. You could not have asked for more! Looking up your eyes met and he winked and blew you a kiss over the table. The mood got lighter by the minute. Laughter started to sound, conversations flowed and Sam and Tom battled for the last sausage. Julia just put her head on your shoulder and smiled.

 You would be ok…all of you!

Tags for : @witchbitch-stuff @drakesfiance @confessionsofastrugglingteen @mylovelycrazyworld? @snarkalumpf @mylovelycrazyworld @inlovewithfreyamikaelson @heart-shaped-hell @theoneanna @marikochi @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx

[themoonandotherslikeit]

The Hand That Reaches for God, Chapter 1

***Sometimes staying away is the easiest move. Keeping a safe distance, especially for Emerson and Dean Winchester. So, when the Maklen twins come home again, they don’t anticipate the feelings that Emerson will get having to see him again. When tragedy strikes, the Winchester brothers and the Maklen twins are forced to face, not only their feelings, but each other. In a story about pain, family, abandonment, and desire, the couples have to decide if survival, without love, is enough.***

Warnings: Angst, language, illness, mutual pinning

Chapter One

One of these mornings, it won’t be long, you’ll call my name, and I’ll be gone. - Oscar Isaac

-8 Hours Before-

The house smelled like medicine.

Growing up, Emerson always felt like her house smelled like some kind of baked good. It always smelled like cinnamon sugar cookies, and hot lemon tea. Her mother was a terrible cook, but she knew how to bake. Emerson thought it was a miracle that her and her identical twin sister, Ophelia, weren’t unbearably overweight. Especially Pheli, with her inability to say no to just one more cookie. Pheli was the kind of girl that everybody liked. She was made of sugar and breadcrumbs. She looked like the kind of girl that lived among the flowers. Growing up she was always the class favorite. Her smile would light up a room, where Emerson’s bad attitude would get her sent to the principal office so frequently that she had a chair with an imprint of her ass on it. She frequently was jealous of her sisters wiles. Ophelia seemed to have the ability to bat her eyelashes, and move mountains. It didn’t seem fair, but Emerson would soon learn that almost everything in life was unfair.

The house didn’t smell like baked goods, or lemon tea, or the flowers from Pheli’s hair anymore. Now it smelled like medicine. It smelled like sterile bed sheets, and oxygen. It smelled like pre-death. The Maklen sisters changed their last name when their father left, in solidarity, to stand with their mother. The girls were no longer the Wilson’s. They didn’t fit in the mold that Carl and his mustache left. The two tween girls and their mother burned all of the belonging’s he left in the house ceremoniously. They danced around the flames, and consumed an entire bottle of red wine.     Both girls adored their mother, from her kind eyes, to her full laugh. They thought she was the most beautiful woman to walk the planet Earth. All the girls could hope for when they grew up, was that someday they would be half the woman their mother was and twice the cook. They didn’t expect to have to say goodbye to her so soon, but then again, saying goodbye was never something that can be planned for. It always seemed too soon, even if there was all the time in the world. The house smelled like medicine, because their mother was dying. Her MS had gotten so bad that she was on a ventilator. She couldn’t move, and she had a permanent live in nurse. Emerson was convinced that she wasn’t even there anymore.

“She’s a husk, Pheli. We should just be done. Don’t you think she’s suffered enough?”    

“How could you say that?” “Look at her!” Emerson gestured to their mothers slumped body in hospital bed in the living room. “She doesn’t go to the bathroom by herself. She doesn’t eat. She doesn’t talk!” “She’s our Mom, Em.” Pheli said weakly, her hands dropping to her side. “I know who she is.” Ophelia forced Emerson to be the logical one. To be the harsh one. Emerson liked to think it was because she was the big sister, even by two minutes. It was her duty to carry the difficulties for both of them.

I took a lot of talking, crying, and shouting to finally come to an agreement. It was time. It was time to let her go. So they packed up their bags at the beginning of Summer break, during their senior year of college, and decided to come back home.    

They came back to the town they grew up in, to the green grass, and lazy people lounging on their front porches with an early afternoon beer in hand. Emerson went away to college to escape their old neighborhood. To escape the people who still saw her as the stringy haired girl with braces. The one who beat up all the boys. She wanted to escape their stares, and their jokes, but most of all she wanted to escape him. So, imagine her surprise, when the girls pulled up to their childhood home, just to see Dean Winchester waltz out of his front door to grab the newspaper, of all things. “Sam.” Emerson hissed, eyeing Ophelia’s boyfriend, and Dean’s younger brother, in the rear view mirror. “What is he doing here?”

Sam shrugged, and ran his finger through his shaggy hair. He was trying to grow it out for a man bun, and Ophelia supported the idea. She was always trying out new kinds of braids, and was excited to have someone to practice on. “Dunno, Em.” Liar, Emerson thought. She knew the boys kept in pretty constant communication. They were almost as needy as she and Ophelia were. Dean was four years older than the girls and Sam. He seemed to always be around when she was growing up, but the older they got the more annoying he was. He’d bring bimbos to their hangouts, and he always ended up smoking pot or sneaking alcohol into their basement.

“Dean you’re going to get us in trouble,” Ophelia complained as he lit up a cigarette.

“God you’re such a girl.”

“That's offensive, ass.” Emerson said, punching his arm.    

“Sammy, you seriously gonna let them talk to me that way?”

Sam shrugged. “Probably.”

The four of them were always stuck together. The boys were inseparable, just like the sister’s, and once Sam and Pheli started dating, the four of them were laced and tangled together. No matter what Emerson did, she couldn’t shake Dean Winchester loose. He was always there, seemingly lurking around the corner. “This is just not what I need this weekend.” Emerson complained, quietly.     Pheli reached for her sister and squeezed her arm. “Hey, don’t worry about him. This weekend is about us. It's about Mom.” She said softly. “Don’t let anything else distract you.” Em sighed, letting out all the breath in her lungs in a single huff. “You’re right. I know you’re right. I’m sorry.” The girls smiled at each other warmly, as Emerson parked the car. Sam ducked out of the back seat stretching his arms into the air. “That drive will never not suck.” He complained gently, before resting his arm across Ophelia’s shoulders. He was almost an entire foot taller than her, and sometimes when they were together it was almost comical. Dean was still standing in the driveway, looking dumbfounded in his pajama pants and ratty AC/DC t-shirt. He gave Emerson a half wave, and she wiggled her fingers back at him. When she was a junior in high school, and he was twenty-one he decided to join the military. He was gone for so long that she barely remembered what he looked like, that was until he came home for his first Christmas back. It was her last Christmas before college. His hair was short, and he had developed muscles that she didn’t know existed. He was wearing his camouflage uniform, buttoned and steamed pristinely, as he waltzed up to her door.

“Hey Em.”    

“Dean.” “Hm.” “What?” She asked, crossing her arms. “Just not used to people calling me that. I’m just Winchester in the military.”  He was standing up completely straight, and there was little snark to his voice. Emerson raised her eyebrow. “Yeah, I guess they would, wouldn’t they?”

“It’s pretty weird.” He said, scratching the back of his head.

“Did you need something?” “What? Oh… no. I don’t.” He said curtly. “Just letting you know I’m home.” “Cool.” She said awkwardly, leaning against the door frame. “Well, guess I’ll see ya later.”

“Guess so.” She said, slowly shutting the door. His hand slipped in, catching the door before she could shut it. “What?”

“Merry Christmas.” He said, before letting the door click shut. 

He looked different now. His hair was longer, not long like Sam’s, but longer than she saw him with in awhile. He looked tired, his shoulders were slumped and he had purple half moons under his eyes from lack of sleep. “This weekend is about us. It’s about Mom. Don’t let anything else distract you.” Her sisters words echoed in her head. She was right, of course she was.

Emerson pulled her bag out of the backseat of the car and walked up the steps, unlocking the door to the house. She instantly got a whiff of something musty and her nose curled up. “Phel, go open up all the windows?”

The nursing staff had taken their mom back to the hospital per Emerson’s request. She didn’t want to have to take care of the body once they pulled the plug, if they were in the hospital the staff did that. She knew she would have bigger things to worry about. She knew Pheli wouldn't handle it well. She was such a delicate flower. 

“Sure.” She went to go open up the windows, and Sam followed her like a puppy. He’d been doing that his whole life, and if Emerson was being honest, it was beginning to lose its charm. Maybe she was just turning into a cynic. Their mothers hospital bed was still in the middle of the living room. A flimsy mattress on wheels. Medical supplies were covering every spare counter space. An IV bag still hung on its pole over their mothers bed, the tube swinging in the fresh air that rushed through the house.

This is going to be such a pain to clean up. Emerson started to make a mental checklist of everything she had to do. She had to return all of the medical supplies, call the funeral home, set up a service, call the lawyers… her thoughts rattled off, only being interrupted by a rap at the door.

Christ, what now?

She drug herself to the front door, swinging it open. “Yes?”

Dean grinned back at her. She looked him up and down, noticing that he decided to change into some real pants, even if the jeans did have holes in them. “Wow, so chipper, Em.”

“What are you doing here, Dean?”

He shrugged, pushing past her. “Just noticed you guys pulling up. I’m going to this party tonight, if you guys want to come.”

“A party? Seriously?” Her eyes followed him, locking on his bare skin poking out from his short sleeved shirt. “Did Sam not tell you why we were here?” “No?” He groaned, hopping up on the counter. Emerson rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. She eyed the six foot tall man that was now swinging his legs like a child off the edge of her mothers counter top. “But I did forget that you’re boring. You’d never go to a party. Can’t have any fun.” He teased, his green eyes challenging her. Emerson rolled her eyes. “Get a fucking grip, Winchester. We are here for Mom.” Her tone hit him like a truck, causing him to suck in his breath.

“Mom… is Jana okay?”

“No. She isn’t.” Emerson said harshly, even though she shouldn't have. He obviously didn’t know.

“What’s wrong?”

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, before gathering up her long blonde hair, and twisting it in to a bun on the top of her head. “We are letting her go, Dean. She’s been on the vent for a year. It’s time.”

His eyes softened, his lips parting to let out a whoosh of air. “What? Shit… I’m so sorry I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t.” She snapped. “How could you know? Not like we talk anymore. All you’re worried about is the fucking party. So go would you?”

He winced and hopped down off the counter. “Fine. Don’t have to ask me twice. Tell Sammy to come by and see his big brother.” He said before pushing out into the yard, slamming the door behind him, causing the frame to rattle.

“What was that?” Ophelia called from the back room. 

“Nothing Phel!” Emerson called back, before pressing her back against the door, and slowly sliding to the floor. She captured her face in her hands and let out a low scream, tears stinging her eyes. It was all just too hard. Too damn hard. She let her head hit the door, hoping for a little clarity that didn’t come. Maybe she should go to the party after all. -4 Hours Before-

Sam was being unsurprisingly helpful. He was able to reach everything on the top shelf, and he and Pheli weren’t even being as flirtatious as they usually were. They’d been cleaning, and organizing, and making calls for the last four hours and Emerson just about had it. She fell back onto the couch and stared at the ceiling fan.

“Sam?”

“Sup?” He asked, poking his head out of the kitchen, holding a glass of water. “The fan is so fucking dusty. I doubt anyone has cleaned it in ten years.” She commented, staring at the fluff that was poking over the edge of the fan, threatening to float down, directly into her face.

“I’m on it, boss.” He said with a grin. She didn’t see it, but she heard it in his voice. She rolled her eyes.

“I’m getting a headache.” Pheli complained. “Can we get something to eat? Take a little break?”

“Oh that sounds awesome.” Sam agreed.

The couple poked their heads over the side of the couch, and Emerson slowly opened her eyes to catch them staring at her. “What do you say, Em?”

“We have so much to do, Phel.” Emerson sighed. I’m the bad guy, again. “I’m sure you need a break, too.” She said quietly. “Come on. Look at you, you’re wiped. We have all Summer to clean the house... it doesn’t have... it doesn’t have to be done before we go to the hospital in the morning.” Emerson watched her sisters fingers go into her mouth, as she bit at her cuticles. It was an anxious habit that their mother had tried to break her of, but she never quite could. Emerson didn’t bother mentioning it in that moment, though, it wasn’t important. Not really.

“But I did forget that you’re boring. You’d never go to a party. Can’t have any fun.” Dean’s voice entered her head at that moment. Maybe she couldn’t have any fun, but that didn’t mean Pheli didn’t deserve some. She was about to lose her mother, after all. Emerson pressed her lips together, making a decision that she was sure she would regret. “Fine. Let’s have fun tonight.” She swung her legs over the side of the couch. “Dean mentioned a party to me earlier.” “You talked to Dean?” Phel asked, raising her eyebrows. “Do you want to go, or not?”

“Yes!” Ophelia said quickly, eyeing Sam. He shrugged in response. “Call him, tell him we’re in.” She looked excited, her face lighting up. It was enough to make Emerson stand up, and walk right over to the Winchester house and knock.

“I got it!” She heard Dean shout from behind the front door. The lock clicked and the door swung open. His green eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, Em, hey.” He scratched the back of his head, exposing a bulge of muscle under the skin on his bicep.     She shifted uncomfortably, tugging on a hair that was coming out of her bun. “I talked to Pheli, and she is interested in the party... so do you have the details?”

“You want to go to a party?” Dean asked, flustered. Emerson raised an eyebrow, confused by his reaction to her. Maybe it was all the time that had passed, or maybe it was the fact that he knew that her mother would be dead in less than 24 hours, that was making him squirm. “Not me, but Pheli, and well, where she goes I go.” “Right, I’m just surprised.” “I can see that.” Emerson smirked. “You going to give me the details, or not?” “Actually... not.” Dean said, his eyebrow quirked upward. “And why the fuck not?”

“Relax, Maklen.” He laughed lightly. “I just don’t think that party is a good idea, but I do have something else in mind. I’ll pick you up in an hour? Tell Sammy to come over here. I want to talk to him.” He shut the door before she could argue. Her lips were hung open, her jaw slack. She let out a huff of air and turned on her heels, marching back to her own front door. He is so fucking annoying. She shook her head, not believing she agreed to spend her last night before the worst day of her life with him, of all people. You’re spending the night with Pheli. Not him. She reminded herself.

“So, what’s the four-one-one?” Pheli asked, anxiously, the moment Emerson walked in the front door.

“Well, we aren’t going to a party.” She began, and watched her sisters face melt in front of her.

“Oh.”

“Hey don’t give me that. We aren’t going to a party because Dean Winchester has something else in mind for tonight.” Emerson pursed her lips. “So if you’re wanting to risk that, then he is picking us up in an hour.”

Ophelia’s face lit up again. “Sweet! I’ll get changed.” “Oh, and Sam, he wants to see you.” Emerson added before pointing to the front door. “So, I guess we will see you in an hour?”

“Guess so.” Sam offered, with a shrug, before kissing Pheli’s forehead and walking out the front door. The girls went up the stairs to their old, shared bedroom. It was all flowers and sheer curtains. Lanterns were strung over their beds. Clearly Ophelia was the interior designer, and Emerson was just living in it. “So...” Pheli started, as she lowered herself in front of her vanity. “When did you see Dean?”

“In the yard.” Emerson said, dumbly, sitting on the edge of her bed. She had no intention of changing out of her jeans and t-shirt to hangout in some mysterious location with the boys next door.

“I was with you in the yard, he didn’t mention a party. So try again?” Her sister asked her, eyeing her in the mirror as she let down her own blonde hair.

“He came by after that. When you were opening all the windows.” Emerson said, nonchalantly. “Oh, sure. That’s not worth mentioning.” Ophelia rolled her eyes, before running a brush through her hair. “Then what happened?” “He came inside and was an ass, like usual. He invited us out, and I told him we weren’t exactly here to party.”

Pheli sat her brush down and turned on her stool. “Ah, Em. You told him about Mom.”

Emerson pinched the bridge of her nose and shrugged. “Guess I did.” 

“I know you guys don’t get along, but do you really think he’s that big of a monster that he would just gloss over that fact once you told him?”

“Kind of.” She admitted with a sigh. “I don’t know, maybe I just wanted to knock him down a peg. He is so... infuriating. You know? Cocky.”

“Cocky.” Ophelia echoed. “That’s what I said.” Emerson said, her cheeks heating up.     “I know.” She grinned back at her sister. “Just making sure you heard it, too.” She shrugged. Dean Winchester had always been a lot to handle. Between his car and women, the only reason she could deal with him at all, was the way he was with his brother. He never let anyone bully Sam growing up, and in turn, never let anyone mess with the girls, either.

“You know, you two are freakishly similar, right?” Pheli added, as she touched up her makeup. “Excuse me?” “Oh come on, don’t tell me you don’t see it? Even after all this time, you’re both the same.” She rolled her eyes.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Emerson asked, standing up. She crossed her arms. “Okay, I guess we have to do this now.” Pheli said, finishing her lipstick. She glanced at herself one more time before turning to her sister. “Ever since we were kids you’ve both liked each other. Don’t bother arguing, I’m your sister. I have twinsense. I can tell who you like, even if you’re too stubborn to see it. When he came home for Christmas from Afghanistan he was here to see you. Now you just have to decide how you feel, because watching this dance is honestly exhausting.” She stood up and walked to her sister. “Now lets get you changed, because I’m not letting you go to this thing wearing jeans and a t-shirt.” Emerson rolled her eyes, but didn’t bother arguing. She never bothered with Ophelia. She could talk her face blue, just to get the person she was arguing with to give in. Emerson didn’t see the point in trying to prove someone wrong who refused to listen to reason.    

Ophelia dressed Emerson in a black dress, and let her hair down. She slid into her ankle boots, and hid behind her red plaid flannel, before meeting the Winchester brothers on the front porch. Dean leaned against his Impala with his arms crossed. He wore a flannel that was pretty similar to Ems, over his AC/DC shirt, jeans, and boots. Sam had a blue button up, and looked like he finally brushed his hair. Ophelia leapt into his arms and he spun her around, kissing her. Emerson walked to Dean. “So, where are we headed?” “It’s a surprise, Em. Don’t you know how to relax?” He asked with a cheeky grin.

“No.” She said, before opening the back door and sliding into the back seat. She watched the scenery fly past them as they sped down the road. The world blurred like sidewalk chalk in the rain.

“Here we are.” Dean said, pulling up to the pier. Emerson raised her eyebrow. “Please tell me we aren’t going fishing.”

“No.” Dean laughed, shaking his head. “Better.” He pulled out the keys and slid out of the car. The girls eyed each other and Pheli shrugged, taking Sams hand.

The brothers lead the girls to the end of the dock where a large sail boat was  tied. Dean gave a goofy grin, before hopping up on the deck. “All aboard!”

“Do you say that to all your dates?” Sam asked with a smirk.

“Whose is this?” Emerson asked, watching Sam hoist Pheli up onto the boat. “Dean Winchester, whose boat is this?”

“One of my officers, relax. He’s still overseas, and I clean it for him.” He shrugged. “He’s fine if I take it out.”     “You never cared about sailing before.” Emerson said, pursing her lips.

Dean rolled his eyes and offered her his hand. “Like you said, we don’t talk anymore, so you don’t really know what I’m into. Just trust me.” There was something about the softness to his green eyes that made her groan and rest her hand in his. He pulled her up, whipping her into his arms. ”Hey there, Sweetheart.” He murmured, his face close to hers.

“Let me go.” She said shortly, and he released her from his grip.

“Alright, folks. So we have refreshments down below, I hope you are all ready for the most epic goodbye party I could come up with in an afternoon.” He grinned widely and started to untie the boat from the dock. Emerson met her sister at the front of the boat, while Sam helped Dean get the boat out of the harbor. “Do they know what they’re doing?”

“I don’t know,” Pheli admitted. “But it sure is beautiful, isn’t it?” “It is.” Emerson admitted, letting out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. The girls watched the boat leave the harbor and Emerson suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. She turned her face away from Pheli. She promised herself a long time ago that she wouldn’t cry around her sister. There was only one emotional Maklen sister, and it wouldn’t be her. “Phel, come here! I got you a drink.”

“Duty calls.” Her sister said with a grin before walking back to her boyfriend.

Emerson gripped the railing and felt the tears sting her eyes. She blinked a few times, urging them to leave her, like the boat left the dock. “Hey.” His voice invaded her space, causing her to jump. “Shit, Winchester.” She exhaled, eyeing Dean. “Got you something.” He said, offering her a beer.

“May need something stronger.” She admitted as she took the beer from him. She took a swig and wiped a tear from her cheek. If he noticed it, he didn’t mention it, and she was grateful for that. “Got that too.” He grunted, pulling a flask from his pocket.

“Thank god. Your wild ways are finally worth something.” She said, taking the flask from him. She unscrewed the top and took a swig, letting the warm whiskey roll down her throat.

“Damn.” Dean laughed, as she took another swig. “Maybe I was wrong about you after all.”

She eyed him. Could she be wrong about him too? “Maybe you were.” She handed him back the flask, and he met her eyes as he took a swig himself, replacing the cap.

“Don’t put it away so fast.” She said softly, her voice almost lost in the wind from the sail.

“Keep pace, Sweetheart.” “I’m not your Sweetheart.”

“I know.” He said, his eyes traveling from her eyes to her lips. “Trust me, I know.” “Good.” She said, peeling her eyes away from his, and back out to the ocean. “It’s endless, isn’t it?” “Sure seems that way, sometimes.” “I like it.” She admitted. “I hate endings.”    

“I know what you mean.” He said, leaning over the railing. “But sometimes an end can be a new beginning. One door closes another opens, and all that.” “Where’s the other door for this?” Emerson asked him. “Where’s the way out?” She turned to him, catching him staring at her. Her blonde hair blew in the sea breeze and he reached forward pushing a piece behind her ear.

“This time it may be a window. Sometimes you gotta get creative.”

“You think you’re so fucking cute, don’t you?”

“Do you think I’m cute?” He wiggled his eyebrows, and suddenly she was shot back to reality.

“No.” She took a swig of her beer and focused on the horizon again. “Sky's beautiful.”

“Sometimes, when things are real shitty, I look up at the sky.” He said with a shrug. “Sort of makes everything else seem small. All my problems, what the fuck are they compared to the sky?”

“They feel pretty big from down here.” She admitted. He cracked a sad smile. “I get what you mean.”

“Why are you back, anyway?” Emerson asked, eyeing him. “Where’s the famous Lisa that I’ve heard so much about?” Dean’s jaw tightened at the mention of her name and he turned to Emerson. “We aren’t exactly friends, Em. Maybe we should just keep the talk to the sky, and the sea. Not get too serious.”

“You invited me here to... what? Get fucked up before I have to kill my mom in the morning? Not exactly a time to be telling me what I’m allowed to talk about.”

He ran his fingers over his face, almost as if he was trying to wipe away the growing frown on his lips.

“You know your face is going to get stuck that way if you keep that up.” They’d tell him when they were kids. “Yeah, fuck you, too.” He’d cleverly retort. “I heard keeping shit bottled up makes you have premature wrinkles,” she said, running her fingers over her own forehead where his had deep thoughtful, frown lines.

“There’s nothin premature about me, baby.” He said, looking at her through perfectly curled eyelashes.

“God.” She groaned, turning away from him. “I don’t know why I even bother.” She pulled her flannel together, suddenly feeling over exposed. “You’re exactly the same as you’ve always been. You’ve never said a single thing that’s real in your entire life! Have you?”

“And you do?” He laughed, turning toward her. “We all have defense mechanisms. Mine is humor. Yours is bitchiness.”

“I’m sorry, bitchiness?”

“Did I stutter?” He asked, inching so close to her that their chests brushed gently.

“I do not hide behind bitchiness.”

“You’re doing it right now.” Dean laughed, gesturing to her. “You’re too busy worrying about how Phel’s doin that you don’t even let yourself be sad about your mom. That’s thirty levels of fucked up.”

“And what about you? Sargent Dean Winchester with the US Army, back at home at twenty-seven living with Mommy and Daddy? What the fuck is that about? Where’s your fiancée, Dean?”

“That’s none of your goddamn business.” He stared down into her golden eyes, challenging her. “You offered up the information about your mom, I didn’t pry. So stop weaseling into my business.”

“Whose hiding behind bitchiness now?” He made her crazy. She wanted to punch him, like she did when she was eight and he pissed her off. She broke his nose. It was a life highlight for her. She wanted to hit him, but there was something else. He smelled like pine soap, and the whiskey he was drinking. His face was damp from the sea spray, and the sun had finally dipped below the ocean. She could see him clearly in the silver light of the moon. Every fleck of gold in his green eyes. Every hair that pushed through his skin on his cheeks and chin. Every freckle on his nose that could make constellations like the endless night sky. He made her crazy. Dean Winchester was made of something entirely different from anyone she’d ever met. He was made of oil, car parts, sass, and a honey so sweet it made her teeth ache. His tongue darted out of his mouth and ran over his bottom lip, so quickly, that if she hadn’t been staring at his mouth she may have missed it, but she saw it and it made her stomach flip. “Guys?” Sam said, coming up behind them. “Not to interrupt or anything but...” The two turned to look at Sam, breathing heavily. He held Pheli’s hand in one hand, and pointed out past them with the other. Ophelias hand was covering her mouth, and even in the silver glow of the moon Emerson could tell that her sister was pale. Sam’s eyes were wide, as he stared past them. Their chests were still touching as they followed his pointed finger out toward the shore, where in the distance an orange glow lit up the sky. “What the...”

The world shook. The sea collapsed over itself, sending the four young adults slamming against the railing, and barely keeping the sail boat upright. Seawater sloshed aboard, and into their shoes, across their shins. Emerson tumbled over the side of the boat in a single, fluid motion, the rail slamming into her stomach. She groaned in pain, as Dean grabbed ahold of her hand at the last possible moment. His grip was tight, even in the spray from the ocean. She hung freely over the edge, gripping at his hand, trying to pull herself back on board, as the wave rocked the boat back upright. Dean hoisted her small frame up easily, back over the rail. He wrapped his arms around her instinctively, his feet planted on the deck, as if the simple force of his stance could keep them from capsizing. They turned back to the orange light, white clouds seeming to rush up from the ground.

“Is that...?” Pheli asked, her voice trembling.

“It’s a mushroom cloud.” Dean confirmed. His eyes were focused off in the distance at the explosion. The clouds of dust, or smoke, curled up like a hand toward the sky. It was gripping for God.

“Is it a bomb?” Pheli gripped Sams chest, and he wrapped his arms protectively around her.

“Dean, maybe we should go under?” He asked, quietly.

Deans hands still gripped Emersons wrist. Her eyes traveled from the explosion to Deans solid expression. She could see him working out a plan. “Yeah.” He said suddenly. “Let’s go under. We can try the radio, and see if anyone’s talkin. We need to get some kind of cover, because if its a terrorist attack they may strike again.” “Terrorist?” Pheli started to cry. “Oh my god.”

“Hey,” Emerson said, turning her attention to her sister. “It’s okay. We are okay. Look at me, we are okay. Dean knows what to do.” Pheli pulled her fingers up to her mouth and bit down on some loose skin around her thumb, but she nodded at her sister. She believed her. What other choice did she have?

“You three go down, I’ll get the sails back up and get us a little further out to sea.”

“Do you need help?” Emerson asked, eyeing him.

“Not safe.” He grunted. “Go down. Now.” She nodded. “Okay, but hurry. If it’s not safe for us, it isn’t safe for you either.” She took her sisters hand and let Sam lead them down below. She made her way to the radio next to the bed. Sam lowered his girlfriend to a seated position, she looked like she was losing it. Other than the tears rolling down her cheeks she seemed pretty catatonic, staring blankly forward, past Sam, at nothing.

Emerson clicked on the radio and flipped through the stations. Click. Click. Click. Buzz. “Nothing. Fuck.” She said to herself.

She met Sams eyes and shook her head. All of the stations were dead. The air on the other end was empty air. It was like the smoke reached up, and ripped God straight from the sky, leaving it empty, void of communication. Pheli gripped the cross around her neck and mumbled some kind of prayer. Emerson moved her eyes from Sams to her sister. She didn’t have the heart to tell her that she didn’t think anyone was listening, not anymore. 

—————

Chapter Two 

Get caught up!

[ruiojousama]

Rockstar! Cor x Loqi AU

This has long been in our prompts. Collaborating with @moonraccoon-exe​ for this is one of the best things ever!

It took me quite a while to post this, but I hope you guys enjoy this extremely long (but fuilfilling) read and the illustrations! 

Headcanons:

First things first: Rockstar!Corqi. Aye.

Not so surprisingly, our Loqi is a self-proclaimed NUMBAH ONE FAN; but he is in hiding ‘cause of his family standing. Can’t really have his parents catch him being a rock/metalhead now, can he?

Loqi is, as usual, the son of a high-society family. His entire life revolves around high-society stuff (parties, school, friends, etc.). Hence why it would be ludicrous and scandalous if he was to come out as enjoying of such things like rock and metal bands (people in tight leather pants, piercings, tattoos, and crazy haircuts, sweating and screaming and singing and jumping on a stage with a bunch of noisy screeching smelly mentally ill teens that apparently hit each other as a hobby? EW, SOOOOO UNREFINED AND SAVAGE!).  

Guess Loqi enjoys that sort of music both just because he connects with it, and because usually rock & metal tend to be aggressive. So it’s sorta perfect for him to vent his own aggressiveness through it. 

Besides, he could NEVER talk about it to anyone; not only is that music unaccepted and seen as unrefined and savage among his family and social circles, it just so happens that his favorite artist is a Lucian. Loqi could NEVER IN LIFE talk about such a HORRIBLE thing! 

((Niflheim and Lucis aren’t at war, but there’s still that tension/arrogance from the high-class Nifs to look down on the Lucians))But despite the secrecy, he has like, 20 posters of him and his band. Photo albums and newspaper clippings.

Loqi has a secret /panic/ room where he hides everything. Sometimes sleeps in it, hugging a custom dakimakura (A/N: I’m laughing cos I remember Matt Mercer and his dakimakura in Critical Role  [Coon here: LMAO OMG RUI XD]).

Posters, photo albums, newspaper clippings, magazine covers, his Cor dakimakura (...I mean we can’t blame him), heck, Loqi probably has the goddamn action figurines. Or nitotans and custom plushies. 

Let’s talk about Cor. Rockstar Cor.

Cor in even more/more stylish black clothes. Cor….WITH EYELINER. 

  Cor sings. You wouldn’t believe it from him because he may come off as too serious, but Cor has ONE DAMN GOOD VOICE, especially for the rock/metal genre.  

Cor’s actually a good performer; as in, he doesn’t just have the voice, he does great on the stage too. Public never grows bored. 

Can we imagine a smirking singing Cor that’s sweaty from the 1.40 hours of concert and the spotlights, thank you. 

Cor is sexy. And he KNOWS THAT. 

Being a musician since like age 20, Cor has gone the ages being praised and adored by the public both as a musician and due to his looks. 25 years into the praise, you can tell someone’s raising some ego (A/N: You know, like Hyde or godsdamn Gackt).

Now the juicy part of this; the story.

Cor and his band are going to tour and they opened some dates in different Niflheim cities. 

Let me say that again in Loqi language.

COR AND HIS BAND ARE COMING HERE OHMFYGODAJW DNJDSJFN CORANDHISBANDARECOMINGINEEDTOGO OH GODS HELP ME IAMSOFUCKEDTHISISTHEBESTDAYOFMY/L I F E/

Loqi has luck he has that safe room, he has somewhere to scream without freaking his parents out.Loqi bought the tickets as soon as they were available.Loqi is seated on his chair, like both hands and feet on it like a damn gargoyle, intensely staring at the computer screen’s clock, so he can SMASH THAT REFRESH BUTTON as soon as midnight hits so he can be the very FIRST to get a ticket for the concert.HE. HAS. TO. GO. 

He KNOWS it’s going to be so hard because of his situation. His parents are strict and picky, they won’t let him out so easily, even less if he doesn’t have a good explanation, he’s keeping all this thing a secret, he just can’t say he goes to a concert, and besides, going out of the house is only the beginning; once out, he has to make it away of home without being seen by ANYONE (the only time when having security cameras AND guards AND dogs become a problem), and once away of home, he could be seen by ANYONE in the streets; his schoolmates are often out on friday and weekend nights clubbing, the concert is going to be in one of the clubbing areas, he could run into ANYONE, heck he could run into anyone that knows him DURING THE CONCERT ITSELF, and THEN he has to make it back home with the same secrecy. It’s giganormous quantities of problems.

….but HE HAS TO GO OR HIS NAME IS NOT GODDAMN LOQI FUCKING TUMMELT.

It’s a once in a lifetime chance, he can’t miss seeing his favorite artist/band live! Who knows when, or IF they will ever come back to Nif again!

Going to the concert actually proves much easier than expected.

His parents don’t check his room at night, and he locks it anyway; he goes out through a window, and maybe convinces a guard to help him out (“I’m not going to do anything bad, I’m just...going to...go see...see someone” because Loqi would VERY much rather his family think he’s dating someone than knowing he went to a rock concert [the guard was all winks and smiles like “Aaaaaaah, THAT stage of youth. I used to do this for your father too you know”   “EEEW, too much info! >:(“]) 

Loqi darling goes around in his most “peasant” clothing, which includes a hoodie, and wears a mouth mask to hide at least half his face.

And finally, without much trouble, Loqi arrives in the concert.

He was early so he could be as close to the front as possible.You should have seen him when the lights went off and the band came out; he went HYSTERICAL

Composed, high-class, serious and ice-cold Loqi, suddenly losing his shit, bouncing on his feet, and shrieking out, waving his concert lighters they hand out at the entrance.aSdsdlfjalksdsad jesus christ I’m loving this so much ahahahah (A/N: SAME COONIE SAME)

You should have seen his face when he saw Cor. *Eyes all gleamy and mouth a bit open like he was a believer seeing his god right in front of him. Full of absolute ADORATION and fan-to-idol love....Loqi may or MAY NOT have gotten a bit teary eyed DON’T JUDGE HIM.((Pls understand him, Loqi’s not very comfy at home due to all the restrictions and he’s been fan of this band for YEARS and he has literally NO ONE to talk to about them or the music, and it’s music that speaks straight to and about his most intimate feelings.))

 And now he’s right in front of them. Of course he would get a bit emotional after years of bottling frustration up <33

Loqi DOES have a little problem, though. 

He is. Too. SHORT.

He’s very close to the front, he was actually on the very first row, but most people, especially male, are much taller than him, so he was forced out and sent a few rows back. Even the people that don’t mean to take advantage of his size can be troubles, as they’re bumping into him, pushing, even crushing the poor thing. 

And don’t get me wrong, Loqi has (a bit too aggressively) pushed people too, and he’s in amazing physical conditions. It’s just the height, dammit.

You know, the  band are known for being super friendly with the fans, both on and off stage. On stage, they’re known for ALWAYS bringing multiple people on stage at different moments of the concert. 

Oh, so this is surely the “I’m going to bring someone on stage and, oh surprise, I just made eye contact with the story’s other protagonist, who I happen to find angelically BEAUTIFUL, so I’ll bring this person on stage and we just fell in love and I’ll kiss them” story, right?

WRONG. 

Loqi DOES come “on stage” of sorts….after ALMOST DYING.

There was a moment of the concert,  you know, everyone is so hyped and ecstatic and they’re having fun, so it just happens the crowd starts calling for a Death Wall (you know, crowd parts in two, and then both parts RUN TO EACH OTHER so they can crash and the HARDCORE SLAM BEGINS). There is a REASON it’s called the DEATH wall lmao

So dear Loqi and some other fans, mostly the younger ones, among Death Wall and slam, they end up a bit scared, injured, or like in Loqi’s case and more dangerously, falling down.Cor and his band may get a bit too much into the fun sometimes, but they’re good people and they care about their fans’ wellbeing above the fun or the fame or the music itself.

So of course Cor STOPS THE ENTIRE CONCERT.

BECAUSE SURE HE'S RIGHT NEXT TO HIS IDOL BUT IT WASN'T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN LIKE, LIKE, LIKE...LIKE   T  H  I  S

And he’s like “WOAH OKAY CHILL PEOPLE, CHILL, WAIT A MINUTE, SOME PEOPLE FELL AND IF YOU DON’T TAKE IT EASY YOU’LL END UP HURTING THEM, OKAY, BE CAREFUL” and while most people stop, there’s some idiots (because there’s ALWAYS some stupid idiots) that don’t, so Cor has security go check on the people that fell and/or are injured.

And THAT’S the story of how Loqi got to be on stage with his favorite band!For like 30 seconds. Unconscious. In the arms of some buffy security guy. That crossed the stage only to get this boy to backstage. Lmao. Loqi-ly, dear angry blond pup wasn’t injured, just knocked out. He wakes up backstage...AND HE JUST /FREAKS OUT/SO MUCH--

Loqi wakes up after the concert is over and the band has already come backstage to chill.So all that Loqi knows is that some stupid idiot elbowed him in the face, he was knocked out, and he’s waking up in this strange wide room he’s never seen before in his life and how did he get there anD COR FUCKING LEONIS IS SITTING RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-YOU CAN’T BLAME HIM FOR FREAKING OUT.

So Loqi’s natural reaction is to gasp and then yelp shortly, and shoot up on his feet and points at Cor and he screams “YOU’RE COR LEONIS!!!” because pointing out the obvious is apparently the natural reaction to seeing something obvious. 

So Cor finds it amusing and laughs and makes some comment about how “why yes I think I am” and about how he’s “always pleased to meet a fan.”And ooooh BOI, Loqi’s having NONE OF THAT.

Loqi for SOME REASON thinks it’s embarrassing and humiliating that someone else knows that he’s Cor’s fan, and it makes no sense because the one that knows is COR HIMSELF, but Loqi’s still this stubborn, difficult little shit and for SOME REASON he gets all worked up and isn’t happy to meet him, he’s just plain upset and tries to pretend this isn’t like the DREAM OF HIS LIFE.AND THEN HE TRIES SO HARD TO CONTAIN HIS FEELS HE BLURTS OUT RUDE THINGS TO COR

“Damn you look older up close—“

"Geez, chill, relax, you're safe now"

"SAFE? I WAS SAFE ON MY OWN, I WAS NOT- I DIDN'T EVEN- I'M NOT EVEN YOUR FAN"

"what"

"YOU HEARD ME, I DIDN'T EVEN WANT TO BE HERE." 

"then why were you here in the first-"

"WHAT DO YOU cARE OHMYGOD STOP HARASSING ME”

Maybe Cor also teases him and the little Loqi realizes how douchebag this idol of his is BUT HE CAN’T DO NO SHIT HE STILL LOVES HIM 

And Cor's like--whoa first time he encounters a fan who kinda hates him? (does that even make sense wtf).Like, he’s met haters and fans, but this is a fan that hates him and holy moogles is that even possible? How do you love someone by hating them how does it work Cor doesn’t understand. 

And he’s sorta puzzled you know. Because Loqi’s wearing a wristband of the band, he was at the concert very close to the front, and he recognized Cor immediately. So he IS a fan. But he behaves so unlike any other fan Cor has ever met in the past 25 years of career; he’s met people that scream and cry out of excitement, some that clap and smile, many that ask for photos, some that are very timid and don’t even talk at all, he’s met some that have even cried….but he’s NEVER ever before encountered a fan like this.

Loqi is calling him names, pointing out rude things or making up some comments just to be rude, he’s freaking out at the slightest comment or movement from Cor, BUT he also burns red in the face, BUT he’s also walking in circles yelling “WHERE IS THE GODDAMN DOOR I WANNA LEAVE NOW THANKS”. Loqi is the rarest and a very unique one-in-among-literally-everybody-else fan…...And hoh OH BOI LOQI, GOOD LUCK,  THE IMMORTAL JUST GOT VERY, VERY CURIOUS

And then after that concert the universe just fucks them up and the two had to meet in accident. A lot.

“Oh, it’s the midget from the concert—”

“SHUT UP YOU TALL DARK AND HANDSO---HANDS OFF MY POODLE--(cos yeah maybe loqi is walking his dog)

For some reason, Loqi attracts danger because for some reason we all creators apparently like to injure him a lot lmao

And for his luck, Cor joins to save the day! /o/ 

Like, I don’t know, some assault. And precious tsundere sunshine is shoved into an alleyway with the poodle (not the poodle!) while he was trying to get Cor off him, so that’s the two in troubles.Luckily, both manage to get rid of troubles, but Loqi takes a bad hit to the head that plain knocks him out.

And when he wakes up, Cor STUPID Leonis is sitting RIGHT THERE BESIDES HIM.IN HIS ROOM.

"Well. Good morning, Sleeping Beauty"

"..what"

"Took you quite a while. Don't worry, you didn't need stitches."

"...is this my room?"

"Well, yeah."

"How did you know where I- THAT IS HARASSMENT AND I COULD- SUE YOU  YOU PERVERTED- OLD MAN, HOW DID YOU KNOW WHERE I LIVE!?"

"Well, you were knocked out, and I checked your wallet for some info, your parents' number or something"

"YOU CALLED MY PA-"

"And I saw your address in your ID so. Sorry for...invading your privacy, it's just your house was closer than the hospital and it wasn't a bad hit so---"

"DO MY PARENTS KNOW YOU'RE HERE OHMYGOD"

"Well yeah someone had to open the door. Nice posters, by the way."

Because by the time Loqi notices, apparently while he was knocked out Cor found his panic room where he has ALL his Cor merchandise. All the Cor posters. The action figures. The CDs. E v e r y t h i n g.*insert Loqi screaming internally*

And Cor being the nice guy he offers to sign those unsigned posters of him

"...is that my face on that pillo-"

"nO!!!"

"well THAT'S definitely me on that pillow, where did you get that? You sleep with it?"

"NO I BEAT CRICKETS AND BEDBUGS WITH IT---OF COURSE IT'S A PILLOW WHAT ELSE AM I GONNA USE IT FOR--!"

"...so you want me to sign-? :)"

"yeh :'("

Loqi half-gives up. Cor found his panic room, there’s no way he can lie anymore to this stupid handsome jerk. So Loqi just sits on his bed hugged to a pillow, face buried in it, while Cor comes in and out of the panic room bringing the most interesting merchandise he finds. Laughing. Asking over and over if he “signs this”, “this one too?”, “maybe this one, this one is cute.” 

Lmao, Loqi’s parents, though.Because Cor has to leave at some point, he has to walk out the main door, and for that he has to come out of Loqi’s room, so it’s just unavoidable, the Tummelts meeting Cor.

“You have a nice house, thanks for receiving me.”

“Yeah...uh...thanks for taking our son home…”

“Fine, fine, keep going, Leonis.”

“So, you is this man your friend, Loqi?”

“N-NO! OF COURSE NOT, NO!”

“...so do you know him?”

“NO! I MEAN- yeah, but, not like know-know him, he’s- no! Let’s just leave, dammit.”

“...would you like to stay for dinner?”

“HE WOULDN’T.”

“I’d love to! :D”

It’s not that Loqi’s parents like him. It’s that they’re trying to figure who this man is and if they should call the police.He looks like a Lucian. What is their pureblood, noble, high society, beautiful Nif son doing hanging with...this...black leather-dressed, eyeliner “hobo” of a Lucian.((Hey, hey, Tummelt mama and papa, those clothes are rockstar, ROCKSTAR, not “hobo” >:( ))How does the romance start, though, huh. HUH. IDEAS. LET’S MAKE AN IDEA RAIN.

But in the end, even Cor charms both Loqi’s parents with his wit. 

And Loqi, regardless of all the embarrassment, is blushing, happy and giddy. 

THANK YOU FOR READING!

[honeybee-babe]

Sharing is Caring (Except When You’re Sick) Chapter 8

Part 8 of my collab fic with @hargreevesstyles featuring sick Luther and sick Klaus, can also be read on her blog!~

Allison and Klaus sat talking for another twenty or so minutes, until Vanya ran up to tell them dinner was ready. She was going to have Allison bring Klaus down, and go wake up Luther herself, but Allison insisted on checking on Luther.

When she finally got to his room at about 8pm, he was sitting up in bed wide awake, sneezing profusely into a handful of tissues he held up to his face. She’d left three boxes on his nightstand, but only one was in sight, and it was propped up on Luther’s lap. His garbage bin, presumably filled with the contents of the other two boxes (and no longer filled with vomit), was pulled up to the side of his bed.

“Hey, Allison,” he greeted, voice much clearer than the last time she’d heard him. All traces of congestion were gone. “I c-c - Heh-NGHXTcheh! INGXTSHIEW!” He gave his nose long, productive blow. “I can breathe through my nose now,” he finished with a dopey little smile, punctuating the announcement with a very loud stomach growl. Allison grinned.

“Come on, let’s go get you some dinner.” Allison was relieved that his appetite was back, and his body seemed to be ridding itself of the infection rapidly.

Diego kept Klaus at the opposite end of the table from Luther again, essentially splitting the dinner table up into two different conversations. He rolled his eyes when Luther took a second helping of soup, but didn’t say anything (Eudora was squeezing his hand). Klaus, on the other hand, took about two spoonfuls before he said he wasn’t hungry anymore.

While everyone else was cleaning up for dinner, Luther slipped into the living room, where Klaus lay curled up on the couch, sniffling and shivering pathetically. He looked absolutely miserable.

“Hey,” Luther said softly from the doorway. 

“Mm?” Klaus barely reacted. “Oh, hi Luther,” he said lamely, voice a hoarse whisper, without even looking up at him.

Luther tentatively stepped into the room.“I’m really sorry I got you so sick.”

“S’okay,” Klaus shrugged. “I…. hh’TDShieww! Ehht’shiu! Hrrgshuehh! I’ve been worse.”

“Bless you,” Luther winced. “You look like hell.”

“I hate to break it to you, but you’re not exactly in your prime, either, champ.” Luther chuckled at that. Klaus just shivered as a chill went down his spine. “Luther, I’m so cold.”

Luther plopped down next to him on the couch, allowing Klaus to snuggle up to his side. Luther frowned, “You’re still warm. When was the last time you checked your temperature?”

Klaus rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ, Luther I’ve had my temperature taken so many times over the past few days I don’t give a fuck about it at all anymore.”

“Alright but if you pass out again it’s gonna be on you!” Luther joked. 

“Don’t worry I don’t feel that badly. I know I still have a fever but I’m not delusional yet,” Klaus said. 

The “yet” kind of threw Luther off; it really keyed him in to how shitty Klaus was still feeling and how he understood that he was still getting worse. Luther almost felt guilty that he was feeling better. His nose was runny as all hell and his throat was still sore but his fever had broken and he was starting to feel more energized. The lethargy that came with the high temperature hadn’t plagued him for a few hours now and he felt like he was thriving. 

Their short conversation was interrupted by Allison and Eudora entering the room. Allison explained that they were all going to watch a movie together. Five and Diego were still cleaning up in the kitchen and Vanya was preparing the snacks. Allison and Eudora were on blanket duty. 

The boys were left alone again but didn’t speak throughout the few minutes they were waiting. Vanya came in before they returned. She put the snacks down and then took both of their temperatures. Luther was sitting at 98.4 and Klaus was up higher at 101.7. He could not shake this fever. 

Vanya called in to Diego and told him to bring in an ice pack and some more Tylenol. Instead of waiting, Five blinked in with it and blinked back out before anyone could even thank him. 

A few minutes later, after Vanya had Klaus all set up, everyone made their way into the living room. They all cuddled up to one another on the couches. Luther was on the far end with Klaus on his side, then Diego was next to him, having Eudora on his other side. Then on the other couch was Five, Vanya, and Allison. 

The lot debated over movies for a good twenty minutes until Klaus had a particularly rough coughing fit and they all gave in to his choice: Mulan. 

The movie started and was uneventful for a while. They all sat silently as they watched it, occasional coughing and sniffling and sneezing from the two ill boys. 

About thirty minutes into the film, however, Luther blew his nose hard and came back up with a tickle in his nose. 

“Hh’HEKSHIEW! HrESHHIEW! Sorry-hehhNXGHT-ISSHYUH! Snf, oh god. IhhixgtSHH! inxgst’chieh! Hihh’NKKT! ” He kept trying to stifle his sneezes as much as he could for several reasons: he didn’t want to interrupt the movie, Klaus was laying across him and was being jolted violently with every sneeze, and Diego was giving him a glare basically threatening him after every paroxysm. 

Klaus giggled, “Allison, what the hell? Did you rumor him to sneeze this much too?”

No one answered. The only sound was the words from the movie. 

“Oh shit,” Klaus gasped, realizing he most definitely should not have said that. “Never mind! Bless you, Luther. Now let’s get back to the movie-“

“What do you mean did you rumor him to sneeze this much too?” Diego asked. His tone was dark and scary. 

Klaus sat up and tried to calm Diego down with his touch. Spoiler alert: it didn’t work. 

Diego shot up, knocking Klaus back onto Luther.

“Did you cause him to have that asthma attack earlier? Was that what you meant when you said you didn’t mean to?” Diego put his head in his hands. “Oh my fucking god of course it was. This makes so much sense. Why would you want to hurt our brother like that?”

Allison shouted, “Diego, I didn’t know-“

“Do you know how many times I’ve needed to pick him up off the streets to take him to the damn hospital because he’s having such a bad asthma attack? How could you be so stupid?”

Klaus cut in, “Hey hey Diego it’s okay she only did it because I was being really annoying!”

“You put our brother’s life in danger because he was annoying you?” Diego stormed out of the room. 

“Huh. Maybe I should stop talking…” Klaus scratched his neck awkwardly. 

Eudora said, “I can go handle Diego.” Everyone nodded approvingly and she was off. 

Klaus made his way over to the other couch and saw Allison tearing up. “Hey hey hey, no more tears today, Allison. As a family we’ve all cried way too much today, okay? We-hehhingxt! We’re okahhh-okay-hhihhiitschiew! We’re okay. I promise.” Allison reached her arms out for a hug. “Hangononesecthere’sanotherone-hh’inxtshyiu-h’Ngk’tshuh-nxt!” 

After he mini fit Klaus rubbed his eyes and sniffled hard, then sitting on Allison’s lap as he wrapped his arms around her. 

He was only able to comfort her for a few more seconds before being beckoned to join Diego and Eudora in the kitchen, calmly by Eudora of course. 

Klaus hoisted himself up, dizzying himself briefly after standing too quickly, but quickly regained his balance and glided into the kitchen. When he saw Diego he was shocked to see that he didn’t look mad...he looked...scared. 

“Hey, you alright, Diego?” Klaus asked. 

Diego stammered, “I-I just I don’t...I was so scared when Allison told me to bring your inhaler quick, I...I felt my whole body freeze. I know you’re sick and shit’s gonna happen but I keep getting so terrified th-that...that I’m going to lose you.”

Klaus felt his heart break. He knew how hard it was for Diego who had watched him make countless stupid decisions and had to deal with the repercussions. He put his arms out. “Come here. Give me a hug.” 

Diego got up from the stool he was sitting on and attacked Klaus in a tight hug. It stripped Klaus of his breath for a moment but he got it back without worrying Diego. The two men hugged tight for a long time. Klaus knew that as long as he was in Diego’s arms that Diego would feel okay, so he waited until Diego separated from the hug because he was the one who needed it. 

When he finally let go, Klaus started to explain, “I was being insufferable, Diego, like usual. I-I don’t blame her for rumoring me.”

“Don’t you dare say you blame yourself-”

“But I do!” Klaus looked down at the ground. “I have to...I have to learn how to be myself without all of the drugs. I don’t even know who I am anymore. I wasn’t anyone for seventeen years! I know I’m annoying but I’m trying to work on it.”

Diego frowned, “You don’t annoy me. I might act like it from time to time but I appreciate every moment we spend together.”

They hugged once more, quicker this time, and went back into the living room. 

“Diego, I-I’m so sorry I know you’re probably so mad but I wasn’t thinking about it and-”

“It’s okay, Allison,” Diego said. “Don’t worry about it, I promise.”

Without another word they all sat down and continued watching the movie. 

Solely, they all went upstairs. Luther was the first to go. He said he was going to go and sleep off the rest of the cold. Allison followed shortly after him, saying she was going to bed. Everyone knew where she was really going, and they all wondered why she kept lying. Five went up next. He claimed he couldn’t stand the inaccuracy of the movie. Then went Eudora and Diego, together. When the front door didn’t close but Diego’s did...they all smiled. Ben left as well, he told Klaus he was going to go keep an eye on Luther. 

The only two remaining were Number Four and Number Seven, each on opposite couches. They sat like that for a few minutes before Klaus couldn’t take it anymore. 

He whined, “Vanyaaaaa! Come here! You’re far away and this blanket isn’t warm enough. I need some real human body heat to keep me from getting hypothermia over here!”

Vanya chuckled and shifted herself over to the couch that Klaus was on. She sat next to him and he immediately threw himself onto her lap. 

“How are you doing, Vanya?” Klaus asked. “You don’t...you don’t feel sick, do you?”

Vanya shook her head profusely. She laughed, “No, Klaus. I feel fine. Great, actually. It’s been a really good time taking care of you and Luther. We’ve all bonded a lot more over it. Of course, Diego has been a bit stressed out but he’s just worried.”

“Good good. I just didn’t want to get you sick,” Klaus said. 

Along with that sentence, he launched into a long coughing fit that made his eyes water and his throat feel like it was closing up. 

“Inhaler?” He choked out. 

Vanya scrambled for it and found it lying on the coffee table. She placed it in Klaus’ hands and he took a puff. After that he let out a few weaker coughs, but the fit subsided. Klaus rubbed at his achy chest and tried his best to clear his throat without coughing more. Vanya looked at his wet eyes and cracked lips. Poor thing, he was still so sick.

“Come here,” She said. When he had used his inhaler he had sat up and scrambled away from Vanya. Now, he cuddled back up to her side instead of lying back down on her lap. Vanya put her arm around him and picked up a blanket to drape over herself and Klaus. 

They talked for about an hour or so before Vanya noticed Klaus’ droopy eyes and occasional yawns. 

“You should get to bed,” Vanya suggested. 

Klaus shrugged, “It’s kind of hard to get to sleep when you’re either coughing, sniffling, sneezing, or having to blow your nose every other minute.”

Vanya stood up and stuck out her hand. “Let me take care of you. You just sit there and try to fall asleep and I’ll take care of the rest, okay?” Klaus nodded and took her hand, coughing into the other as she pulled him off of the couch. 

It was kind of funny, quite honestly, how Vanya’s 5’0” frame was supporting Klaus’ 6’0” body, her arm wrapped around his waist making sure he didn’t fall over. He was exhausted, stumbling over his feet every few seconds, holding onto the wall or the railing or whatever he could grab on to. 

When they arrived at Klaus’ room, Vanya deposited him on the bed and told him to get changed while she checked on Luther. 

She wasn’t surprised to see Luther and Allison passed out next to each other under the covers. Vanya smiled, turned the light off, and went back to Klaus’ room. She knocked and he told her he was decent so she entered. 

Klaus was sitting on his bed in boxer shorts and a white t-shirt, smothering his face into a tissue as he tried to clear it as best as he could. He must have realized that it wasn’t going to do much because he stopped abruptly and scrubbed at his itchy nostrils. 

“Don’t cold symptoms know when it’s night time so they can fuck off?” Klaus said. 

Vanya laughed. She responded, “I don’t think cold symptoms care about if you get a good night’s sleep or not.”

Klaus huffed and balled up the tissue in his hand. He used it to wipe his nose, which seemed to be running but absolutely incapable of being cleared. 

“Alright, get in bed,” Vanya ordered. “I’m gonna dim the lights a bit and then get you your night doses of medicine. I’ll be back with water and tea and then I’ll help you get to sleep, okay?”

“Okay.”

It was rare to see Klaus so small and so vulnerable. He was tucked into himself as he rubbed furiously at his nose. When Vanya returned a few minutes later he was still rubbing. 

“I have this tickle in the back of my nose that won’t go away but it won’t let me sneeze,” Klaus whined. 

Vanya asked, “Want me to try and help you get it out?” 

“How would you do that?”

Shyly, Vanya admitted, “Well...remember at dinner the other day when you couldn’t sneeze and then you had that massive fit?”

“Oh my god...that was you?” Klaus laughed. “Holy shit, for real?” Vanya nodded. “No way. Can you do it again? That felt so good. But...do you think you can control it if my asthma starts acting up?”

Vanya nodded. “I’ll keep it under control.”

“Okay. Let me get comfy first!” Klaus threw himself under his covers, took a sip of tea and a puff of his inhaler. “Okay I’m ready!”

“Okay.” Vanya sat across from Klaus on the bed and focused her attention on his nose. This would go a lot quicker with a sound to focus on. “Can you give me a little sniffle?” Klaus tried to give a hearty sniffle, but he couldn’t get much air in with all the blockage.

Vanya focused intently on the little sound, using the waves to vibrate along Klaus’ septum just like she had earlier. This time, she tried to go in easier, with a dulled down vibration. Klaus reacted instantly, breath hitching wildly. Vanya released the pressure, hoping that would be enough.

“Hihhh… Ithinkitsworking! I -hih!... why did you stop?”

Vanya shrugged. “I don’t want to go too hard, I might hurt you.”

“Ugh, I don’t care,” Klaus whined. “I want to sneeze! Come on, Vanya, give it all you got.”

“You sure?” She shook her head, focusing in again. “Okay -- but if it something feels wrong, you have to tell me to stop -- can you sniff again?” 

This time, Vanya went as hard as she had before, and she didn’t stop when Klaus’ breath started hitching again. He turned away from Vanya into his hands as he waited for the sneezes to come.

“Okay I...ihhh I think it’s worki- ehhhtshiu, woo! Xngt-itshuu!” He flashed her a dopey grin over his hands. She smiled back, releasing him from her grasp. 

“Hihhhh?...ihh… hehhhh.” Klaus shot Vanya an annoyed look. “Ugh, what the hell? Why’d you stop?”

“Wasn’t that enough?”

“No,” he whined. “Do it again, Van. Please?”

“I don’t know, Klaus-”

“Pleeeease? I really want to clear all this shit out of my nose, it huuuurts.” Vanya chuckled but nonetheless went in again; the results were instantaneous. “Ihhh-extshiew! Hh’nxt-ixtshiuu! Hihihhetshyuu! nXGt-nxgtchiehh! Okay, I need-hah! Hhitschue! H’xgtsh! Okay, V-hannnxtsh! Vanya, I thihhhxtschiew! Ineedtocatchmybreath-hihhh’hiehhHtshiuu! S- hihHh'TDSHiew! Stop!”

The second she saw the panicked look on Klaus’ face as he struggled to catch his breath, Vanya had put a stop to the vibrations she buzzing through his sinuses, replacing them with the pressure she had used on Luther earlier. The effect was apparently a little bit slow when the person had already been assaulted with the opposite technique, but nonetheless, his sneezes slowly died down. Klaus’ breathing slowly evened out. He threw his head back against his pillows, the rise and fall of his chest becoming less pronounced with each breath he took. He was exhausted from the sneezes, but ultimately pleased. Finally, he let out a deep sigh of satisfaction.

“Fuuck, thank you.” His nose was dribbling now, but he didn’t seem to notice -- or he was just too tired to care. “Maybe Allison was right - wish it had helped with the congestion more, though.”

“Here,” Vanya held a tissue up to his nose, eyes focusing on his nose again as she pushed down through his nostrils to clear his nose. “Blow.”

Klaus did as he was told. He would protest but he was feeling too weak to do anything for himself, and he knew Vanya wouldn’t mind. Klaus liked having Vanya around to take care of him. She didn’t pester him too much and she was gentle. She talked to him normally, not like he was dying. She knew what she was doing. She wasn’t too fussy. She made Klaus feel okay. 

Those thoughts lulled Klaus to sleep a few moments after he finished blowing his nose. 

Those thoughts were also the first thing he remembered when he woke up and looked at the clock. It was 4:26 AM and Klaus couldn’t breathe. His throat was gravelly and his nose was so blocked up he knew that if he tried to breathe through it all that would happen was a bad coughing fit.

He looked around for Ben but he was nowhere to be seen. Klaus cursed. He was alone. Vanya must have gone back to her room to sleep after Klaus hit the hay. He wondered if he should wake her up. 

A rough cough sent Klaus fumbling for his inhaler in the dark. When he realized how dark it was he started to become paranoid. The faint whispers of the ghosts calling his name were growing louder and louder as the seconds passed. Klaus grabbed his inhaler and then bolted into the hallway. The lights were on out there. Klaus sighed in relief. 

He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the ground, taking a puff from his inhaler on the way down. It was hard to hold his breath long enough for the medicine to work because his nose was so blocked up. Klaus looked across the hall and saw the bathroom. He remembered a time before when Diego made him take a shower to clear out his congestion. The steam really helped. Although, he wasn’t in the mood for really getting in the shower. 

That’s when Klaus got the idea to sit on the bathroom floor while the steam did its work. The only problem was that Klaus still didn’t want to be alone. He would have expected Ben to be back by now but he wasn’t, and he didn’t want to sit on the ground by himself with a raging fever while the ghosts poked and prodded him until he swore they could break through the veil. 

The thought of the ghosts touching him was enough to send Klaus running to Vanya’s door. He knocked quietly and then let himself in. He flinched at the darkness but he felt around the wall until he found a light switch. He turned a small light on and crept over to Vanya’s bedside. 

“Vanya?” Klaus cringed when he heard how stuffed up he was. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Vanya? Wake up.”

“Huh….? Klaus is that you?” Vanya’s tired voice asked. 

Klaus nodded, “Yeah, it’s me. I can’t breathe because I’m super congested and I was wondering if you could come with me while I go sit on the bathroom floor while I run the shower? I just don’t really want to be alone and I don’t know where Ben is and...could you please come with me?”

“Of course. Here, let me get up and we’ll go,” Vanya said. 

The pair walked to the bathroom and Vanya turned the shower on it’s highest setting while Klaus sat himself on the ground. Vanya handed him a box of tissues that she found in the cabinet. 

Klaus took the box and held it in his lap, waiting patiently for the steam to kick in so he could use them.

“This is genius,” Vanya commended, flashing him a tired little smile. “It’s like a giant humidifier.”

“Diego did it for me a few years ago,” Klaus explained through a wheezy breath. “I didn’t want to wake him up now, because of-”

“Eudora?” Klaus nodded and they both chuckled. “You didn’t want to interrupt them, huh?”

“Stop, I could hear Diego snoring,” Klaus play-shoved Vanya’s arm; he was so weak at the moment that it barely felt like anything to her. “I just didn’t want to wake him up. I know he’s a light sleeper.”

“The lightest sleeper. I think she’s good for him.”

“The fact that he’s asleep at all right now is a testament to that.” Klaus struggled to blow his nose but nothing came up, instead leaving him panting for air even more. 

Seeing this, Vanya tried to focus her powers on his nose, but there was so little sound coming from his attempts at sniffles, and she was so tired, that it didn’t work. She still had a lot of practice to do. So she comforted him the only other way she knew how.

“Come here.” She leaned her body against the tub, scooping Klaus up in her arms. Due to the size difference, he was basically laying on the floor with his head on her chest, but it was better than nothing. He nuzzled his head into her shirt and she stroked his hair as he continued to rub at his nose with the tissues, as if something would finally come up. He continued to wheeze and give tiny gasps for air for a few minutes, until finally he felt some of the pressure in his head releasing.

“Think it’s working,” he mumbled, eyes closed. He was practically asleep on Vanya, only awake enough to try to blow his nose. This time, something did finally come up. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. He could breathe through his nose now, if only just a little.

And that’s when he started to sniffle and twitch his nose. And shortly afterwards, his breath started hitching. He tried to pull away but Vanya pulled him back into arms, not willing to risk the chance of him hitting his head on the tile or something like that. With the state of exhaustion he was in, it seemed pretty plausible.

“Vanya can you let me go?” Klaus asked, eyes still closed. “I have to sneeze.”

“Then sneeze. It’ll help get all that gunk out,” Vanya said gently, still petting his messy curls. Klaus continued to struggle against her hold on him, but to no avail. It was really a testament to how sick he was that even Vanya, the smallest of the siblings and the only one who had never had any sort of physical training, could easily keep him down.

“I don’t want to sn-sneeze on you,” he whined, already holding the tissues up to his face. “Please don’t m-make me...heh! Hhh'tDZshiehh! Nixt-ixgshiuhh!" He blew his nose afterwards, a deep, gurgling blow. And took a deep, albeit sniffly, breath through his nose.

Vanya brushed his hair back from where it had fallen around his face. “Did that feel good?” she asked , stifling a yawn.

“N-n -heh!- not done….ehhhXGTschu! Hehhh...hihhh'gtchiuu! Mm, y...ihh....Ihhhgrshyuu!” He buried the tired, drawn-out sneezes into the tissues, blowing his nose again the second he was done. This time, he blew it for quite a while, and he was done, nothing seemed to be coming up anymore, and he was breathing through his nose again.

Klaus tossed the tissues in the bin and grinned contentedly, leaning back on Vanya’s chest and speaking through a yawn. “Yes.”

“Yes what?” Vanya had dozed off herself for a second, head leaning down slightly on top of Klaus’. She blinked her eyes open wide to wake herself up.

“Yes, it felt good,” Klaus clarified. He leaned his head back to see Vanya rubbing her eyes. In response, he nestled his head back into her chest. “Mmmgoodnight.”

“Nope, we are not falling asleep here.” Vanya slapped lightly at her face to wake herself up. With a little groan, she pushed herself up on her elbows, forcing Klaus to sit up beside her. He rolled his eyes as she turned the shower off and held her arm out to help him up.

“hnxgtshiu! You’re no fun,” he muttered, rubbing at his itchy nose.

“Why, because I won’t eat ice cream with you at 3 am?”

Klaus heaved a deep, annoyed sigh. “Ugh, why did you mention ice cream? That would be so good on my throat right now.” He stopped walking and turned to look down at Vanya, flashing her the softest green puppy eyes.

Vanya shook her head. “No way — don’t you dare give me that look! I’m not gonna have Diego murder me tomorrow.”

“Turtle neck lady will keep him in line. Please?” Klaus begged, even as he wavered where he stood.

Vanya shook her head with a little grin, walking the rest of the way to Klaus’ room and opening his door. She stuck her arm in and pointed in. “Come on, you can barely stand.”

“I was just playing,” Klaus explained as he got into bed. “I’m not even hungry.”

“I can never tell with you, Klaus.” Vanya pulled the blankets up to her brother’s chin and bent down to gently kiss his forehead, ruffling his hair one last time for good measure. “Try to get some sleep, okay?”

Klaus heaved a dramatic sigh and closed his eyes. “I’ll try.”

He was out like a light before Vanya had even turned out the lights.