#Looking out of the window smoking a cigarette kind of mood and we don't even smoke

[cozza-frenzy]

Having a really normal one today, lads

[theconstantsidekick]

Lit Cigarettes (Part 2)

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester x BestFriend!Reader, Damon Salvatore x Stefan Salvatore x Sister!Reader (these are the main ones, there are too many others to tag) Genre: Fluffy angst

Summary: While Sam berates Dean for his choice of very pathetic reply, Y/n tells her brothers about said pathetic reply.

(Set after the events of Supernatural season 4 and yes, Y/n's dated a bunch of TVD characters.)

a/n: The two conversations are happening parallel-y, hope that makes sense?

Warnings: Smoking, mentions of smoking, more romanticisation of smoking, a lot of that yes, sorry. Don't smoke kids. Semi-explicit content? IDK, there's kissing.

Part 1 is here.

It’s only when they’ve crossed the Mystic Falls border does the silence in the Impala break.

“You’re an idiot,” Sam tells him. 

The car stops abruptly. “How long have you been awake?” Dean asks, taken completely off guard.

“Long enough to call you an idiot,” Sam answers before he opens the door to the back seat, exiting the vehicle. Dean takes a second to realize that Sam’s making the walk towards the passenger seat. 

Dean pokes his head out of the window just to be petulant and screams, “THAT WAS A PRIVATE CONVERSATION, you sneaky son of a bitch!”

Rolling his eyes, Sam opens the passenger seat door and gets inside., “You really think I didn’t know about it?.”

“Know about what?” Dean asks as the dumbest dumb person to ever exist as he starts the car back up again.

Sam looks towards him, and his eyes are louder than any words can ever be. His eyes are screaming at him, calling him the dumbest guy to have ever walked the earth. But then he says, “She’s been in love with you for 15 years, and I’ve been her best friend for 14 of them. You really think I’d need to eavesdrop on your conversation to figure it out?”

Dean opens his mouth to say something but thinks better of it and instead asks, “14?” He’s facing the road now, too embarrassed to face his brother.

“The first year was rough, we got off on the wrong foot,” Sam explains. “I think I was mostly just pissed at her for fawning over you like you hung the moon. Not the point. The point is, I don’t need to overhear a conversation to know that she loves you. Everyone and their mother knows that she’s in love with you.”

Dean stays silent for a second, because he doesn’t know what to say. What the fuck is he supposed to say to that? He… He doesn’t know what to say to that. 

“It was still rude, bitch,” Dean says lamely, because like he said, he doesn’t know what the fuck else to say.

Sam just laughs, without any humor but all the passive aggression in the world. “What was rude was saying—”

“He’ll pick you up on tuesday!?” Damon yells, mouth agape, hands covered in flour and sugar. 

“And what did you say to that?!” Stefan asks from where he sits on the kitchen counter, watching his brother and his adopted sister try (and fail) baking a cake for his birthday. 

“I said I’ll see him Tuesday,” Y/n answers with a magnificent amount of shame. She can see both her brothers are about to launch into an all out assault of questions, but she is categorically not in the mood. She cuts them off before they can even start. “He didn’t really give me a chance to say anything else, he just got in the car and drove off, okay?”

“Honestly, I don’t even think I can blame him,” Damon retorts, urging a cocked eyebrow from the other two Salvatores. “I blame you,” he says pointing his goop drenched whisk at her. “It’s your fault for falling in love with a NSYC reject.”

She just rolls her eyes and goes back to cleaning up the mess Damon’s creating at every step of his cake making process. “Do you really think you should be saying that? When you look like you could enter a Gerard Way Look-Alike Contest and win?”

While Damon makes the most absurd voices known to mankind (and vampire kind), Stefan just lets out a soft chuckle. “Okay, okay,” Stefan tries to calm them down. “Let’s just go over the events of the night again, shall we?”

“Can we please not?” She pleads.

Stefan carries on unfettered. “So you told Dean Winchester, the man of your dreams that you love him and he said he’ll see you Tuesday?”

She exhales audibly, “Yes… more or less. Yes. That’s how it went.”

“The fucker doesn’t deserve an announcement of love, if you ask me,” Damon counters, hands back at work, mixing the goopy and frankly probably unsalvagable cake mixture.

“That’s probably why no one asked you!” She throws back, throwing away the paper towel in the dustbin. “AAH! I just needed to say it, okay? Fifteen years is a very fucking long time to keep something like this to yourself. I needed him to know.”

“But you’d told him already, didn’t you?” Stefan counters. “Before he got dragged to hell?” She flinches at the mention of the incident—the memories are far from pleasant—but nods in agreement. “What did he say back then?”

“I know,” she tells them.

“You know what?” Damon asks, face souring at the sludge in his hands. Then he sneakily (not sneakily at all) grabs a bottle of Bourbon and empties almost half of it into the cake batter, mixing in the liquid.

“No, he said that,” she replies.

“Said what?” Stefan questions.

“He said, ‘I know’!” 

A look passes between Stefan and Damon and then Damon does the honors, “If nothing else, you gotta hand it to that Timberlake-wannabe, he’s got a great track record of having the shittiest responses to someone professing their love to him.”

“What the fuck else was I supposed to say?! I was about to be dragged to Hell!” Dean defends. “It’s not like I had the ability to focus on anything else.” He’s a fucking liar—his focus was definitely not on being dragged to hell when she said what she did. But Sam doesn’t have to know that.

“Anything, man! Literally anything else!” Sam countered, frustration evident in every single inch of his movement. And it’s always times like these, when Dean begins to think if Sam would side with him if he were to actually have a fight with her. Would Sam keep hunting with him if she decided to part way? “You are such a fucking dick!” Sam remarks. So no, probably not. He’d pick her over his brother for sure.

Dean can’t help but cower a bit at the strength of Sam’s annoyance. “I wasn’t trying to be,” he tries. “I just thought… when in doubt, Han Solo that shit, you know?”

And that apparently is the worst thing to say. “What is wrong with you, Dean? You know, you really are Dad’s son! ‘Cause my God. There’s only one other man who is so incapable of handling their emotions, and somehow, you’re even worse than him.”

Dean doesn’t appreciate the insult to their father but he lets it slide on account of Sam being really fucking angry. “Fine! If you’re so great at this chick-flick shit then tell me what should I say to her. You tell me and I’ll say it to her on Tuesday?”

“Tues—seriously?!” Sam’s veins are about to pop out, Dean thinks. The man is so fucking angry with Dean right now that he’s genuinely worried that he;s about to bust the vein on his temple. 

“What?” Dean throws back, cause actually he has no other fucking response.

“You know, I don’t even get what she sees in you. She’s crazy smart, and talented and funny. She’s so freakin’ funny!” Sam says, and Dean has to agree with all that. She really is. “There’s so many amazing people who’re just dying to get even one shot with her, and yet, she’s stuck on you!”

Dean’s jaw clenches. “Then why doesn’t she go after one of those amazing people?” 

“I don’t have a single clue,” Sam answers.

“What do you mean? She did give it a shot with one of them, didn’t she? Derek What's His Face?” Hale. Derek Hale. Dean knows his name by heart.

“Derek Hale. Yeah, Derek was pretty great,” Sam agrees, leaning back on his seat.

“Then what happened?” Dean is trying not to sound too curious about it. And if his grip tightens on the wheel, enough for his knuckles to go white, no one has to know about it.

“I’m not sure. I thought it was going great with him but she broke it off with him when we were at Stanford,” Sam tells him, eyes out on the barren road, looking so puzzled, you’d think he was talking about the mysterious phenomenon of raining toads. 

“When she dragged you to Stanford,” Dean corrects him, because as much as he'd like to know, the topic is so not his favorite. Neither is this one but it’s… It’s older and the wounds have since healed, become scars.

At his words, Sam’s confusion is gone in an instant. He sits up straighter—as straight as a giant can in a ‘67 chevy Impala. He turns to Dean with something like defense burning in his eyes. “She didn’t drag me to Stanford, Dean!”

“Yeah, right,” Dean brushes it off. “You and I both know, that’s some horseshit. She went there and you wanted to follow her, like you always did.”

“No. Dean,” Sam calls his name in a way that urges him to turn. Once he does, Sam continues, “I didn’t follow her to Stanford. I—I didn’t go to Stanford for her, she went to Stanford for me!”

“What?”

“Dude, she was the valedictorian. She got into 20 different Pre-Med programs, and at least 12 of them were better than Stanford. She just went there cause she knew I wanted to go,” Sam word hit Dean like a tonne of bricks. “And well,” Sam turns back to look at the road again. “She also kinda went there for you.”

“For me?” The fuck is that supposed to mean?

Sam sighs before he says, “She thought that maybe if she were there it would be easier on you cause you’d know that she was there to look out for me.” He smiles then, a small sweet thing. “She went there for you.” What the actual fucking fuck?

Sam turns to him again, and somehow “Don’t get me wrong, she went there for me, but she went there for you too. Everything she does, she does for you.”

“That is—and I say this with all the love I have ‘cause you’re the only Salvatore left other than that dick over there—that is the most pathetic thing I’ve ever heard,” Damon comments. 

She pushes a buttered up cake tin towards him and says, “Must be a genetic trait then, passed down from generations. Seeing as the only other Salvatores I know are still, to this day, hopelessly chasing after a girl who looks exactly like one Katherine Pierce.”

“ELENA IS NOTHING LIKE KATHERINE!” Both her brothers shout out in unison.

She has to smile at that. “Not even the—” she points at her own face as a demonstration.

Both of them just pass her a look filled with ire. She smiles wider. 

“At least we have hope,” Damon defends, pouring the ungodly mixture into the cake tin. “What’s your fucking excuse?” 

“I don’t have one!” She really doesn’t. “I just—I just feel the way I do, I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Move on!” Damon tells her.

“For once I agree with him,” Stefan says from the counter behind them. His words are softer than Damon’s, they always are. Stefan’s always understood her dilemma just a little bit better than Damon. She thinks it might just be because Stefan understands the feeling of helplessness a little bit better than their brother ever can. “You really should move on.”

“I want to,” she tells him, with all honesty. “I really, really want to. Don’t you think I’ve tried? I tried! With Derek, with Alaric… and it was working. It really was, until he rejected me.”

“Rejected you?” Damon mocks. “I think it was barely 4 months ago that Alaric died in your arms confessing his undying love for you.”

“Damon,” Stefan reprimands. 

“What?” Damon counters, clearly annoyed as he turns to look at Stefan. Stefan, however, just shakes his head, telling him in his small gesture to stop it. The wound is still too fresh, don’t touch it yet. And that’s exactly why despite being fond of Damon a little bit more, Stefan will always be her favorite brother.

“I am not ready to touch that topic with a ten-foot pole so I’ll side step that and tell you that I have tried, extremely hard to move on, and if I could do it. I would. It’s not like any of this is fun for me,” she tries to make them understand.

“It’s not as hard as you make it out to be either,” Damon comments and his voice is somehow softer than before because this isn’t a jab. This is more wishful thinking, she thinks. Damon, for all his nonchalance, hates seeing her pining for Dean. Not just because he doesn’t like Dean but also because he’s seen the most of it. He has always been her drinking companion on endless  nights. Pouring her one drink after the other, knowing no other way to sooth the pain on her features. He loves her differently than Stefan does. He would’ve killed Dean by now if he thought that could be a legitimate solution. He’s way more violent in his protection of her than anyone else.

Taking the cake tin from Damon, she opens the oven and shoves it in. She sighs audibly before she says, “Look, I have made my distaste for the Elena situation quite clear already—”

“And it’s still fucking unreasonable,” Damon retorts.

“You’re making me agree with him twice on the night before my birthday, now you’re just being rude,” Stefan chides, smiling.

“She pulls you both in opposite directions, which leaves me in the middle where I’m stuck and neglected!” She can see that both the boys are ready to fight her off on the matter all night but she doesn’t want to. “BUT that’s not the point I’m trying to make here. What I am trying to say is that, with Elena, you both feel what you feel. It’s undeniable and inescapable. You could let go of it even if you tried. You both know what it feels like to be hopelessly in love with someone with your entire being.” When both men stay silent, she knows they agree. So she continues, “Can you at least both do me the courtesy to try to understand that that’s how I feel about Dean? That maybe—”

“—She doesn’t know how not to be in love with you, you know?” Sam says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world. Like he isn’t breaking Dean’s world apart in half. “I mean, it’s definitely not easy for her.”

“Watching him flirt with a girl at the bar while I sit in a shady corner, drowning myself in Bourbon,” she says.

“Watching you come back to the motel, covered in hickeys, and sometimes watching you not come back at all,” Sam says with so much pain, Dean thinks maybe he sat with her on those nights. And then it clicks for Dean why he’d see his brother with bags under his eyes in the mornings after.

Her jaw clenches, she fidgets with the “It's always someone else. Either it’s a cheerleader or—”

“—A receptionist at a motel or anything with a pulse at a bar,” Sam says.

“It’s always someone else and it’s never me,” she notes solemnly.

“And it is so fucking painful to watch,” Sam notes.

“It feels like someone’s tearing my heart out and stabbing it in front of me with a fork just to play with it.” She can’t help but smile sadly at the accuracy of that description. “He smiles those smiles that charms the pants off of everyone. And I have to see it, because try as I might, I can never look away. I can never look away from the way he touches them because I can’t help but imagine how it would feel like to be touched like that… touched like that by him. I can never look away when he smiles like that. Which just ends up hurting a little bit more.”

“I’ve had to watch it over and over again for a decade and if it hurts me this much I can’t even imagine how much it hurts her,” Sam tsks so simply. As if he isn’t burning Dean from the inside out. 

“I just wish he—”

“Weren’t so loud about it. If you weren’t so loud about it I think it would be easier maybe?” Sam muses. “But then again, maybe it wouldn’t be. Not that she’d ask that of you, she knows it’s not fair to you so she would never ask you to be any other way than you…” And then he sits up again, facing Dean, and Dean has to try his best to keep his poker face intact, “But I can! So, I’ll do it for her—Dean, please can you be just a little less loud about it?” Dean turns to Sam at that and somehow the action is mistaken by Sam as an offended one. “I’m not asking you to change, just… I don’t know, just don’t do it in front of her. Don’t flirt with the cheerleaders while she’s sitting right next to you, you know?”

And man, Dean might be the one whose vein is about to pop now. “What is up with this cheerleader bullshit? She said it too? I wasn’t that fucking back in high-school!”

Sam just sighs in annoyance, “You ignored her Dean.” Dean’s about to protest, but Sam cuts him off. “And I don’t think it was intentional on your part. It was the first time you weren’t an outcast and it was so much fun to fit in, I felt that way too. But she… She was two years ahead of people her age. And that really doesn’t fly well in a small town like Mystic Falls, you know that. I mean, you were in her class, man! You know that the only person who ever talked to her was you but then you got so lost in the high-school of it all that you just ignored her.” Sam shakes his head. “It wasn’t your fault, you were young but it really wasn’t fun to watch either.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Dean defends very very lamely. “I never meant to hurt her, ever.”

“That’s what sucks about all of this. I know he never does any of it to hurt me, but…”

“But it still hurts anyway?” Damon provides, comforting and gentle. 

She nods with a sad broken smile as she says, "To be in love—”

“—And to be hurt, is to be made perfect,” Sam quotes.

“Shakespear, As You Like It,” Dean notes, to Sam’s utter surprise. Which, wow! He reads! And besides, it’s… it’s Y/n’s favorite of the Shakespear plays. Of course, he knows what it’s from.

“Sucks that it has to be this way,” Sam notes calmly, now looking out the window at the passing trees. “I know it’s not your fault, I really do. I also know you really care about her. I know that too. But I just wish I didn’t have to watch my best friend be in love with someone who doesn’t love her back.”

Dean’s had enough. He sees red. “WHO THE FUCK SAID THAT?”

“What?” Sam almost balks at Dean’s sudden outburst.

“You and Y/n keep saying that, again and again, and for all that is un-fucking-holy, I can’t fucking figure out who the fuck said that? Who in the name of fuck told you that?”

“Dean—Dude! What are you talking about?” Sam’s eyes are wide and confused.

Goddamn it, Dean thinks. “Who the fuck told you, EITHER OF YOU, that I don’t feel the same way?”

There is silence then.

It stretches on for a minute but it feels like an hour to Dean.

“Are—are you serious?” Sam finally questions.

Dean clenches his jaw. “You don’t think I have better things to lie about than this?” He’s being snarky but he can’t help it. It’s been a long fucking drive.

“Then—” Suddenly Sam’s excitement level shoot the fuck up. “THEN WHAT THE FUCK ARE WE DOING DRIVING AWAY FROM MYSTIC FALLS?”

There are reasons. Dean knows that there are. There was a solid reason why Dean decided to drive away after dropping her off without saying a (meaningful) word. But try as he might, Dean Winchester, cannot for the life of him remember what the fuck it was. 

He clicks his tongue, “Good question,” Dean comments before his hand finds the gear shift, and he swerves the car around.

“I am just saying that you cannot ignore it. It’s not a fictional concept. There have been countless tests on the subject matter,” Y/n argues. They’re at the Salvatore Boarding House and the party is in full swing. She’s got a glass of Bourbon in one hand and an unlit cigarette on the other.

“On rats,” Bonnie throws back, smiling.

“Dogs too,” Matt adds from behind her. She smiles at him for the support.

“That doesn’t mean it works on humans,” Tyler cuts in from the couch.

“Of course it does. It’s not a baseless theory. It’s the core facet of every training, ever. You do something good, you’re rewarded, you do something bad, you’re punished,” she explains. “Some people even go as far as to call it parenting.”

Everyone lets out a soft laugh. 

“But it doesn’t stick, not always at least,” Caroline counters.

Y/n nods, “Fair enough, it doesn’t. But doesn’t negate the fact that the pavlovian response is quite a real phenomenon. I mean, it’s well known. It’s quite literally used in conversion camps—mind you I do not approve of the abhorrent abuse of it—but that’s what they do. They show you something very straight, that according to their disturbing homophobic beliefs should make you feel aroused and don’t shock you. Then they show you something very gay, that makes you feel aroused and then they shock you. It tells your brain that somehow feeling aroused at this particular thing is dangerous. Then they do it again and again and eventually the entire process just trains your brain to be scared shitless of even thinking of being aroused, because well if you do, you’ll get—”

“Electrocuted,” Elena finishes.

Y/n clicks her finger and points at her. “Doesn’t work though,” she states, as someone plucks the cigarette out of her hand but her point is almost at the end of being made. “Doesn’t stop you from being queer, nothing ever can stop you from being queer.” The cigarette is placed back into her hands. “Queer is who you are, and queer is who you fucking should be.”

She takes a drag.

“Amen.”

Y/n turns instantly at the sound of that voice. 

“Dean,” she breathes out.

Dean Winchester and her lit fucking cigarettes.

It’ll be the death of her. 

“I thought you had a quota of like 5 cuss words a day,” Dean says with a smirk. Somewhere behind him she can see Sam but her world doesn’t really know how to focus on anyone else when Dean is standing so close to her—barely a couple inches between the two. “I thought you would’ve used them all up… after the conversation in the car.”

“It’s past 12,” she tells him dumbly. She can’t be blamed. WHY IS DEAN BACK HERE? It’s not Tuesday, is it?

There’s a few seconds there, which are just silent. He’s looking at her and she’s looking at him and it’s just silent. Sure, there must be a party in the background but she doesn’t really remember it. His eyes are so beautifully green, she can’t think of anything but The Great Gatsby. She can’t think of anything but the green light at the end of Daisy Buchanan's dock across the bay from Gatsby's mansion. The green light which represented Gatsby's hopes and dreams, particularly his longing for a future with Daisy.

“What are you—” she begins at the same time as he says, “I wanted to—”

Their words get jumbled up.

“You go first,” Dean suggests.

She gulps, quite noticeably apparently because Dean follows the motion of her throat with his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

He smiles then, unabashed and wide. “I should have gone first. Would have saved us time. I was gonna say that I wanted to talk to you…” he answers her question. 

“Oh,” is all she can muster.

“Can we do that somewhere… not here?” He nods over to the audience they have gathered.

She wants to look at what he’s motioning towards but she can’t really pull her eyes off of him right now. Instead she just says, “Yes… The courtyard.”

Dean nods and looks at her waiting.

What’s he waiting for? 

Until Dean just raises his brows with a soft smile and then she remembers. 

“Oh yes, courtyard, let’s go,” she says. And she’s about to grab his arm to drag him off but realizes that both of them are full. She looks from the cigarette to the beer. Thinks for a second—decision made, she downs the beer and places the bottle on the closest flat surface.

“What are you doing here?” She asks again once they’re at the courtyard. They are face to face again, but she has actively decided to put a couple of steps worth of distance between herself and the man of her dreams. For precaution.

“I had to see you,” Dean replies.

“Thought you were gonna see me Tuesday,” she chastises with very little heat, taking a drag of her cigarette.

But apparently Dean takes it to heart. “That—yes! That’s what I am here for. That is the stupidest thing I have ever said. Actually, no scratch that, that’s the second dumbest thing I’ve ever said, ‘I know’ is first.” Confused, she scrunches her forehead. So he explains, “When I was being dragged to hell?”

“Oh,” makes sense, she muses. She shrugs then another puff before she says, “When in doubt, go with Han Solo.”

Dean shakes his head but he’s wearing a smile which she can’t really place. “Yes but it—it was dumb, and I’m sorry.”

“No, no, Dean. No. I am sorry. I put you in a very weird position at a very, very wrong time. It was my fault,” she tells him, and she means it. “Even today, I dropped a whole freakin’ bomb on you without any preamble. Your response made sense considering the condition. I’m sorry to have put you in that position to begin with.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Dean says and his words carry so much determination it makes her shiver.

She waves it off or well, tries to. She has to take a couple steps back, pulling her arms across her chest, she leans on the steps just behind her. She takes a long drag before she asks, “Is that what you were here to do? Say sorry for your response?”

Dean nods. “Yes, and to ask you,” he takes a few steps towards her, “I had to ask you…”

“Ask me?” She urges.

“Did you mean it?”

And she has to roll her eyes at that, drawing on her cigarette again. “What kinda question is that?” 

“A serious one,” Dean says evenly.

“Fine, yes. Of course, I meant it.”

“You don’t regret it?” Dean questions.

“What?! No!” The idea seems so silly to her she can’t even come up with a sarcastic remark for it.

“And you still feel that way?” Dean asks, with a hint of… is that fear in his voice? “Do you still…?”

The night is quite forgiving to them. The moon is out but not in full force, otherwise there would be one less party guest and one extra dog in the boarding house. Her birthday party fell on a full moon night, sadly the patent group werewolf, Tyler, had to skip that one. 

But tonight’s not a full moon, it’s a crescent moon. Shining quite bright, bathing Dean in its light. That along with the warm yellow of the garden lights makes him look ethereal, she thinks.

“15 years I’ve loved you, you think I’ll be able to get over it in three hours?” She throws back.

“A yes or no would do,” Dean rebukes.

“Yes,” she says, sighing. “I still feel that way… but…”

“But?”

“But I think… I think I’ll try to move on…” she acquiesces, a long inhale of smoke, a shorter exhale of the same.

“Why?” Dean bites.

She pulls back a bit before answering, “I understand that the position I put you in isn’t entirely fair. And well, it isn’t great for me either, is it? It would be better for both of us if I just tried to move on… for good this time.”

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t move on, damn it!”

And that just pisses her off, she throws the cigarette on the ground, butts it with all her fury. “What? Is this some sort of fucking ego trip for you? Look at the hopeless girl in love with me?”

“2 out of 5 cuss words already used. The day’s barely started and you’re left with only 3,” Dean comments with a smile that makes her want to punch his lights out.

“Quit it!” She yells. “You just making fun of me now? That’s just fucking cruel, Dean.”

“2 left,” Dean states but at her glare he takes another step towards her. “I don’t want you to move on.”

“Why the fuck not?!” She’ll probably punch this guy very soon.

“Cause I don’t want you to.”

“Why not? You just want me to stay madly in love with you, keep watching you chase after girls at bars and keep letting my heart break? You want me to keep dying bit by bit, is that it?” Her voice breaks a little at the end.

“No. Of course not! But if you moved on, it would kill me, so I can’t let you do that, Y/n. I can’t.” Dean tells her. 

She doesn’t understand any of this. What even is happening.

“I think you’ve finally lost your mind. Hell has clearly gotten to you. You’ve gone mad! What do you want me to do, keep falling deeper and deeper in love with you, torment myself day in and day out when I know that you will never love me back. What is wrong with you, Dean? What the f—”

“Listen to me,” he cuts her off. “You really need to listen to me cause you’ve got just one cuss word left for the day and what I’m gonna say you might need it for that.” He breathes in, slow and deep. “I never said that.”

“Never said what?”

“I never said that I didn’t love you back.”

She… What?

Wait what?

“What do you mea—?”

He cuts her off again. “I saw you 15 minutes before you saw me.” She’s so confused she thinks she might just cry. And it’s all made worse because Dean takes a few steps closer to her. The gap is nowhere near as secure as it was when this conversation began. “I was getting out of the car and you were…” He smiles, so beautifully that her heart aches. “You were smoking, of all things. At the ripe old age of 13, by the way.”

“My parents had just died like, 6 months ago,” she defends like it matters at all.

Dean smiles all the same. “Smoking your first cigarette. That’s how I saw you, and you were—you were smoking that like a champ, honestly. I think you took four drags, before you decided it was too much and then butt the entire thing. You then began your mission to hide it like they were porno mags under your bed that Stefan and Damon could discover any moment.”

“Porno mags would’ve caused less trouble,” she comments absentmindedly.

He smiles wider then. “Fair enough.” He nods almost to himself. “But yeah. I saw you 15 minutes before you ever saw me. So, I’ve been in love with you 15 minutes longer than your 15 years.”

She doesn’t think she remembers how breathing works.

“I have been in love with you since the moment I saw you. And every single day I wake up and I think I could not love you more but then something happens, you laugh at some joke or you talk about how democracy is a concept built on the idea of inequality, or you sing karaoke at some bar or you just are, you just be and I just… I fall harder in love with you. Every moment I spend with you, is another moment where I find out that I can love you more than I already did.” Dean laughs then. “I was stupid, I was so stupid. I kept thinking that I couldn’t have you. I kept thinking that I shouldn’t even try because what would be the point? I was never gonna quit hunting and this life—it’s filled with so much shit. I thought there was something really bad around the corner, so how could I drag you into that mess with me? So I just—I never thought that I could have you but then I died! I fucking died, Y/n. And now apparently there is a goddamn apocalypse around the corner so clearly bad things will happen no matter what! Then why the fuck should I have to go through all of that alone? Why should I have to go through that without you? I can’t do it. I don’t fucking want to.”

He doesn’t want to.

She’s dreaming, isn’t she?

“I didn’t know, though,” Dean says sheepishly, with apologies all over his face. “I never fucking knew how you felt. Of course I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have—All the girls, all the bars, they were just—I didn’t think I could have you, I didn’t think you’d ever want someone like me so I wanted to numb the pain, I never thought I was hurting you in return. I wouldn’t have—”

She takes a step towards him. They are now standing too close, chest pressed into chest. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Dean argues, still feeling so guilty that it’s almost painful to watch.

“It’s okay now,” she clarifies. “Do I get to have you now?”

“Obviously! Of course! I’m yours. I’ve always been yours, Y/n. Only yours—”

She cuts him off by pressing her lips on his. It’s a small, tentative thing, mostly to try it out, but also to shut him up. And shut up, he does. 

She pulls away, not too far, never too far, just enough to look up at him. 

Then Dean Winchester smiles. Wide, and cocky, and flirty and beautiful.

He pulls her back in, hands on caressing her jaw so gently that a part of her thinks maybe she was made of porcelain all along and everyone forgot to inform her. Because he is being so soft with her, his lips on hers are tender but there is so much love in every movement that she can taste it. 

Her hands find his hair, and she plays with the soft spikes, pulling him closer, and perhaps it’s her hunger for him or maybe his for her, but tenderness gives way to passion. They are all hands and lips and desperation. He’s grabbing onto her for dear life, pulling her closer and closer as he wants her whole and maybe he does. She understands though, because she’s holding onto his leather jacket like if she lets go he’ll vanish and urging him closer too. It’s mindless and mindful at once.

Lips slotted together seaking out all that they’d been wanting for, for the last 15 years.

Dean’s hand travels down to her thighs and instinctively she knows to jump up. He grabs her easily as she wraps her legs around him. It’s hungry now, they are so very hungry now. It makes her moan, Dean, ever the man of opportunity, takes that moment to slip his tongue in. Their tongues dance together in a heated embrace. She can’t help herself, she’s seeking some release from the tension building inside her, so she grinds against him, only for both of them to pull away, moaning in sickening pleasure.

And she can’t help it, she laughs. “Fuck.”

Dean laughs too. Pressing his forehead to hers. “That’s all of them, sweetheart. You’re out of cuss words for today.”

“That might be a problem considering the state you’re in,” she grinds against him again, to tease him, to feel him, to have him, cause she can now. 

Dean groans before smiling again. “Fuck me, sweetheart. I can cuss all I want, you’re the one who’ll be in trouble.”

“Maybe I want that?” She smiles.

Dean laughs again. “God, I love you so fucking much.”

She kisses him again, it’s a sweet, loving little thing. “I love you too, Dean.

Find Part 1 here.

[timeoverload]

Well I have a lot to say at the moment. I have had the itch to write this all day but I couldn't because I was very busy at work. First of all, I apologize for my antics the past week. I'm still a little upset about what happened yesterday but I realize that some of that was my fault. Maybe I'm not being patient enough. I'm sorry if I ruined anyone's day. I'm definitely not as angry as I was last week and I was in a great mood all day despite being extremely stressed.

I was such a mess yesterday. I was so uncomfortable and I really don't want to go out by myself again. I wish I enjoyed doing that but I never have. I guess that's just the way I am. I was really looking forward to seeing you but I understand why you weren't there. I'm not planning on responding to any more indirect requests from anyone asking me to show up somewhere. I'm not going to keep subjecting myself to that anxiety if nothing is going to come out of it. I think I should have proven myself by now.

Another thing that triggered me while I was there was seeing someone that I used to be close to. There was a guy I went to high school with in one of the bands that played and we were good friends for a while. We had a very brief fling but literally nothing ever happened between us because I was acting psycho and that lead to the end of our friendship. It was definitely for the best because I treated him very poorly even though he was very kind to me. I knew that he wasn't the one for me. It seems like he is doing well now and I am happy for him. I don't think he recognized me but that's ok with me. Seeing him reminded me of how terrible I was in high school and I don't think I realized at the time how crazy I was acting. It brought back a lot of bad memories. He isn't the only person I acted that way towards. I was such an asshole and I did a lot of crazy shit back then that I would never do now. I'm not surprised that I don't have any friends left from high school.

I had a tough time keeping friends back then because of my behavior too. I was going through a lot of traumatic shit so that didn't help. I also used to be more of a risk taker too but I think a lot of that was due to mania. I didn't make the best decisions. I can't blame everything on my mental illness but it didn't help that I was not properly medicated for that until I was 24 or 25. I'm really surprised that I only got in trouble once in high school and it was for smoking cigarettes. I got pretty lucky I think. I have learned a lot since then and I think that I'm a much better person than I used to be.

Anyway, I also drank too much too quickly yesterday without eating so that was a stupid decision. I was fine though and I didn't throw up so I'm happy about that. I don't remember the drive home but I didn't have any issues. I'm glad it wasn't dark outside. I am never doing that again and I feel horrible about it since that is against my morals. It is very irresponsible. I know better and it was still scary.

I remember my mom driving drunk with me in the car all the time when I was a teenager. She would pick me up after school and she would usually be late because she had already been drinking or was hungover. Almost every day she would stop at walmart when we were on our way home so she could buy more $3 garbage wine. Then when we got home, I had to help watch my brother and sister and help with dinner so she could go sit in the garage. She would sit out there for hours and talk to herself while she was chain smoking and drinking. She would usually have at least 1 bottle of wine every night. I remember she would go to the bar at night and drive home drunk frequently. She hit mailboxes and other unknown things with her car. I remember waking up in the morning and looking out my window to check to see if she had parked in the yard again because it happened several times. We lived in a pretty nice neighborhood so that looked really bad. She got several DUI's and I'm thankful she never hurt anyone. I'm glad she doesn't have a car now because she can't be trusted with one. I don't want to end up like her but I also know I wouldn't let myself get to that point. I also lost a friend I met in high school because she was on her boyfriend's motorcycle with him and he was drunk and they got in an accident. He lived but she didn't and it was very sad. She was such a sweet person and I'm glad I got to spend time with her. It's hard for me to think about.

After I got home last night, I didn't drink that much more and I ate some food. I didn't want to do anything otherwise. I had no interest in being on the computer. I was upset and not in the right state of mind to be on here. I wanted to watch tv because I haven't in a long time so that's what I did. It was nice. I wanted to distract myself because I was not looking forward to today.

There were 75 cases all together on our side of the hospital. There was a lot going on. I had 16 cases this morning and 15 in the afternoon. There was a 45 minute delay around lunch time because there was an issue with the disposable sterile supply packs that come from the manufacturer. I'm not exactly sure what happened but it messed up the rest of the day and we were extremely behind. It was exhausting trying to catch up after that. The last case didn't get done until 6:20 so I didn't get out of there until 6:45. I was there 12 hours because I got there early this morning too. I think that tomorrow will be slower so that's good.

I am glad that I have Wednesday off but I'm also very anxious about it. I'm not going to be able to sleep in but I'm sure I will need a nap afterward so I should have time to do that. I am still looking forward to seeing you even though things haven't been going well recently. I know we will figure stuff out eventually and I need to stop worrying so much. Everything will be ok. I love you. 💖💖💖

I have been writing a long time and I know I'm going to continue going on tangents if I don't stop. I'm not going to have much time to relax tonight because I still have stuff to do. My right eye is also bothering me again too so I need to give it a break. I'm not sure why it hurts so bad and it has felt like something is in it all day. I have been wearing mascara more often so maybe that's the issue. Hopefully it feels better in the morning. I just ate dinner and now I have to get ready for bed. I really hope tomorrow is a better day.

I hope everyone else has a good day tomorrow too!!! :) Thank you for listening to me. 💖💖💖

[batterycityghoul]

Hello there! I don't know if you are accepting requests, so I'm just shooting my shot. I was thinking about a short one shot with Diego based on the song Wait a minute by Willow Smith. Actually the part where she says "You left your diary at my house And I read those pages, you really love me". I know you're busy with These Hands Stained Red, so it's okay if you can't write it. Have a nice day! 🤗💖

Title: You Were Bound to See

Pairing: Diego Hargreeves/Reader

Word Count:  2.9k (whoops?)

Author’s Note: I was already in a Birds of Prey mood, and your additional requests for 'number 8/singer in a bar/power has to do with her voice' gave me maaajor Black Canary/Dinah Lance feels. So, I used some of that character's story for inspiration. I hope that's okay! (I also had never heard the song before, so I hope I did alright with your song prompt! Thank you so much for sending this in! 💖) 

You sat on your bed, waiting for him to show up. On nights like these, it wasn't uncommon for him to sneak into your apartment, seeking a night together.  

When you heard the window beside your bed slide up, you felt a smirk tug at your lips. You glanced over your shoulder, catching sight of him standing there in his domino mask and usual vigilante gear.  

"What was it this time?"  

"A robbery," he answered. "What? You couldn't see that with your little musical gift?"

You quirked an eyebrow at him, not amused by his snark. "It doesn't work like that and you know it," you snapped, shooting him a glare. "And why don't you take that stupid thing off your face? You look like an idiot."

Diego rolled his eyes, reaching up to pull his mask off. "You used to wear one too. Or did you forget we used to be on the same team?"

How could you ever forget? Your mother had only been a lonely, scared teenager when she suddenly became pregnant and gave birth to you all in one day. You didn't remember much about her, but you did remember that she used to call you her little miracle. She didn't have much money or anyone to rely on, but she loved you. And you? You loved her.  

You were just a kid when she got sick and passed, there and gone in what felt like a blink of an eye. In the weeks before she left you, you spent many nights at her bedside, singing her song after song, your head filled with visions that never yielded what you hoped to find.  

After she passed, you ended up bounced around the system for a few years until you ran away. You learned at a young age that you truly couldn't rely on anyone but yourself, so you resigned yourself to being alone.  

You had to become resourceful to survive on the streets. It wasn't the most glamorous lifestyle, but you figured it was better than trusting someone who would only ultimately let you down.  

Your life took a sudden turn when you were only thirteen. You had gone a few days without food, so you had to resort to looking through a dumpster in search of a meal. You thought you had found the jackpot outside of a mansion, since you knew rich people were always throwing away perfectly good food.  

You had just jumped inside when you startled at the sound of someone banging a fist on the side of it.  

"Hey! You find anything good in there?"

You peeked over the side of the dumpster to see a boy about your age leaning against the side of it. He glanced up at you, throwing you a wink, before he brought a cigarette to his lips and took a drag.  

"Smoking kills, you know?"  

The boy shrugged his shoulders. "Death doesn't concern me that much," he offered with a grin, lightly laughing at the words as if it was a joke only he would understand. "What are you doing in there?"

"Looking for food," you answered, figuring there was no harm in being honest.  

The boy squinted up at you before he nodded his head. "Alright," he said. "Come with me."

You shook your head. "I don't even know you."

"Oh! Right," he said, hastily dropping his cigarette to the ground before stepping on it. "I'm Klaus. And you are?"

You considered the boy for a few moments before you sighed. "I'm Y/N," you finally offered.  

You were surprised when Klaus took you inside the mansion. He was quick to introduce you to a woman named Grace who immediately started to fuss over you. She made you food which you promptly ate while listening to Klaus ramble away about his life and family.  

"Well, this was great," you started once you finished the pancakes and eggs Grace had made for you. "But I should really be going."

"I believe we would both agree on that," you heard a man say from the doorway of the kitchen. "What were you thinking, Number Four? Inviting this strange child into our home?"

Klaus snorted before he shot you a commiserating look, as if you could possibly understand what was really going on. "I was thinking, Reggie, that she was hungry and needed something to eat."

"This is not your house, Number Four. You did not have my permission to invite a stranger inside."

It was then that you noticed the other kids crowding around the older man. It took you a few moments, but you realized that you recognized some of them. You frowned at the one wearing a domino mask, a scowl on his face as he watched you.  

"We don't have time for this," the older man snapped. "It is time to debut the team. There is a robbery in progress and you and the other children are going to stop it."

"At a bank?" You asked, tilting your head to the side as you watched the older man. "There's going to be men hiding in the bank vault. Make sure you get them too."

The man turned to give you his full focus, staring you down for long enough that you started to feel truly uncomfortable. "Tell me," he started. "When were you born?"

"What? What the hell does that matter?"

"Your date of birth," the man demanded. "Now."

"October first," you answered.

"Year?"

You shot a quick glance at Klaus, seeing that his eyes were wide with wonder as he waited for your answer.

"1989?" You hesitantly offered, not sure why it came out as a question.  

"Where did you find her, Number Four?"

"Uh," Klaus started, staring at you uncertainly.

"I was outside in the dumpster looking for food," you answered for him.  

"I see," the man mused. "It seems I may have some use for you after all. Stay here," he commanded. "I want to speak with you when we get back."

You watched as the man herded all of the kids out of the kitchen, leaving Grace with instructions to make sure you stayed put.  

Of course, you had no intention of staying. You didn't trust the man or the way he seemed to think you were suddenly valuable to him. You didn't want to see what he had in store for you.  

So, the moment Grace turned her back, you made a run for it.  

It didn't take you long to learn that Reginald Hargreeves really did have no intention of letting you go. He managed to track you down within a day and offered you another meal if you only listened to what he had to say.  

You agreed, even if you were hesitant to believe that he was offering you salvation.  

He spun you a crazy tale of superhero kids and a bid to save the world. It took some coaxing, but you finally admitted that you caught glimpses of the future. All you had to do was sing a song and visions played in your head of what was to come. You couldn't control it and it only seemed to stretch as far as a few days ahead, but you always tried your best to understand them when they came.  

"Precognitive music," Reginald confirmed with a nod of his head. "Well, I'm not sure how useful you can be to the team, but I'm sure we can find a place for you. Welcome to the team, Number Eight."

Despite having an official welcome to the team and family, you still tried to run away. A lot. But Reginald always brought you back.  

You didn't really mesh well with the team. You didn't bother to get to know Luther or Allison. The one they called Number Five disappeared not long after you joined the team and Ben was so quiet and reserved that he usually kept to himself. The only ones you really forged any kind of connection with were Diego, Klaus, and Vanya.  

Klaus didn't really give you a choice about whether you wanted to be friends or not. He seemed to just barge right into your life and stay there, pulling you into his antics from time to time.  

You bonded with Vanya over music. Once you heard her play her violin, you instantly fell for her talent. You spent hours listening to her play, eventually having the confidence to sing to her and sharing your visions with her.  

And Diego? Diego only seemed to show an interest in you because he didn't trust you. You were pretty sure he thought you were going to somehow kill everyone in their sleep one night. Which, to you, didn't make sense, because he was the one with the lethal power.  

Diego's constant watch over you meant that you ended up spending a lot of time together, whether you truly wanted to or not. You discovered an anger in Diego that you connected with. He was angry with his upbringing and constant dismissal from his father that left him feeling like he wasn't good enough and you were angry at the shitty hand life had dealt you and the constant voice in your head telling you that you didn't belong. Over time, you learned how to talk each other down when you truly felt like you were going to lose it. Sometimes when you tried to run away, Diego would be the first to talk you out of it.  

As you grew older, you started to rely on each other. You were the first one to have his back on a mission and he made sure you knew how to spar just as well as him so you could better defend yourself. You started spending most of your time together, forging a connection you never would have seen coming, despite your precognitive ability.  

When you turned seventeen, you and Diego left the Academy together. You both took up odd jobs, sharing a shitty apartment just so you wouldn't have to spend one more moment under the roof of Reginald Hargreeves.  

That first year you spent together, just the two of you, was one of the best years of your life. Diego took up playing guitar and you would sit on the bed you shared, singing to him. He was always so interested in your visions, but that wasn't why you chose to share your talent with Diego. Singing had always been something you loved, and in a way, it was something you did for the people you loved. Your mom. Vanya. And then Diego.  

Of course, you knew you were too young for those kinds of feelings and young love rarely lasted.  

Your problems started when Diego wanted to start up a vigilante lifestyle. He ended up washing out of the police academy, stating that it wasn't for him. Instead, he took to wanting to patrol the streets at night, listening to a stolen police scanner, and throwing himself into danger. You tagged along at first, but you quickly realized that you didn't want to be a superhero. It became a point of contention between the two of you.

"Diego, we can't keep doing this," you insisted one night. You were bleeding from a cut to your forehead you had gotten after a close call with a group of men who were intent on robbing a convenience store.  

"Doing what?" He asked, carefully dabbing at the cut with a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol.  

"This," you insisted. "Saving people. Being good little superheroes. I thought that's why we left the Academy."

"That's why you left the Academy," he pointed out.  

"I'm not cut out for the superhero life," you said, trying to make him see that you were suffering for it.  

"You were born for the superhero life," he countered. "Otherwise, what's the use of having a power if you don't use it to save people?"

You shook your head, glancing away from him. "I didn't ask for this," you whispered. "Aren't we meant for something more?" You couldn't help but wonder, feeling like your heart was tearing in two at the silence that followed.  

You left not long after that. You ended up singing in a dive bar for a boss with shady connections and as far as you knew, Diego took up a job at a boxing ring during the day while he moonlighted as a vigilante at night.  

Even though you both didn't seem to agree with the other, you couldn't stay away. The rest of the team had been irreparably broken for a long time, but you couldn't seem to quit Diego. He didn't like that you were seemingly wasting your nights singing in a bar, keeping your visions to yourself, and refusing to use them for the greater good. You didn't like that he was risking his life for people who didn't give a fuck about him and wouldn't care if he died in the process of saving them.  

You spent years going back and forth. Some nights, after you were done at the bar, you would make your way to The Fighting Lion, waiting on Diego's bed until he bothered to show up. Other nights, he would come see you after saving some hapless victim, crawling through your window like you were teenagers in some kind of sweet rom-com.  

It didn't matter how much it hurt that you would never truly agree, because you knew that you loved him. You loved him so much some days you could hardly think past the need to have him right there at your side.  

Now, you barely resisted the urge to roll your eyes before you turned your back on him.  

"I can guess why you're here," you started, shooting him another quick glance over your shoulder. "Catch the bad guys?"

"And saved some lives, baby," he told you with a smirk.

"Don't call me that," you said.  

"What should I call you then?" The smirk never left his face as he started pulling off his holsters, dropping his knives on their unofficial designated place on your dresser. "Remember what I used to call you when we were younger?"

"Don't," you warned, knowing what he was about to say.

"My little songbird," he crooned with an almost mocking note to his voice. "You used to sing just for me," he reminded you.  

You watched him continue to strip until his shirt was off and his pants were unzipped.  

"You're awfully confident about where this is heading," you pointed out to him. "What if I said I just wasn’t feeling it tonight? What if I showed you the door?"

"You know, I caught your show tonight," he informed you, seemingly completely ignoring your previous words.  

That was news to you. As far as you were aware, Diego had never bothered to actually come to the bar and see you sing. He thought you could do better and you didn’t quite disagree with him.

"I listened to you and watched you," he said, slowly approaching you until he was standing just beside your bed. "And I realized something."

"Oh, yeah?" You asked, raising an eyebrow at him as he put a hand to your shoulder, coaxing you to lie down. "What was that?"

He moved to hover over you on the bed, propped up on his arms on either side of your head with his eyes trained on yours. "You don't really love it," he finally responded. "You just go and sing because you enjoy it, but it's nothing like those private shows you used to put on for me. I never realized before how close we were then. How intimate," he said as he leaned down, placing a kiss to your jaw. "I remember the look on your face every time you sang just for me." Another kiss was placed in the hollow of your throat. "You used to look at me like I was everything to you. You gave yourself away."

You felt your breath hitch as he placed a biting kiss just under your jaw, his teeth lightly scraping over your skin.  

"I did?" Your voice was breathless as you attempted to glance down at him.  

"You did," he confirmed with another smirk, finally rising up so you could see him.  

"And what did I give away?" You couldn't help but ask, torn between knowing and pulling him down into a kiss.

"You love me," he said. "I didn't notice at first, but tonight made me see it. It made me see you. You love me, Y/N. You really love me."

It was hopeless to deny it. You had known since you were only seventeen. You had resigned yourself to loving Diego for the rest of your life, because you simply couldn't help it. It didn't matter if you would always clash and were wrong for each other in so many ways. Your heart never seemed to listen to what your brain had to say. You loved Diego.  

"And what if I do? Does that change anything?" Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, your instincts warring between pulling him closer or pushing him away in the event he just ended up hurting you again.  

"Of course it doesn't," he answered with a shake of his head. He offered you a soft, sincere smile before he leaned down again, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke his next words. "Because I love you too."

[murderadawrote]

not now, not tomorrow | finn shelby;

plot: during Tommy and Grace’s wedding, Y/N and Finn inevitably think about their future;

warnings: swearing, smoking, pda;

—

I've never attended a big wedding. I've never had the opportunity. Just little weddings, sometimes arranged because of the need of peace that was in the air. I've never liked those. You could see that the bride used to torture her hands while the groom wasn't even trying. These weddings were the worst. But when you are part of a gang sometimes it's the least you could do when you are a woman.

Grace and Tommy's wedding however was different. A lot of guests from both families were there. I wasn't a Shelby... at least not yet. Just the girlfriend of Finn Shelby, young and innocent and intelligent. Somehow I grew up with my own opinions and I liked to share those ideas with Ada during our meetings in London. Most of the Birmingham's men used to think about me as a rebel, someone who's not right for the society because "educated women will rule the world and we can't accept that" as the local baker once told me. And I didn't want to cause a scene so talking to Ada once in a while about my life seemed the best option.

"One day you will marry Finn, love." Polly used to tell me every week. "So you are a Shelby!"

When I used to meet Finn and I was in a mood, he loved to tell me how much I reminded him of Polly. Pursing my lips, glaring at everyone and thinking about something else. I was already a Shelby so it was a question of time.

"Why are you here, Y/N?"

I was in front of a big window when Polly came behind me. She had a cigarette in her hand and a look of pure curiosity in her aged but motherly face. It was rare seeing Polly curious, she always knew what was going on. I looked at her and then looked out of the window as I was doing before.

"The boys are planning something..."

Polly smirked and came closer giving me a side hug, the cigarette in her other hand. "I know, dear." She smoked for a minute and exhaled. "But it's not planning. They are just comparing their dicks!" And that made me genuinely laugh.

"Grace was so beautiful today, don't you think?" I asked her after a few moments of silence. "I mean, I know you don't like her but..."

"She's a beautiful girl. Elegant, I might say." She sighed letting me go. "But the surname Shelby suits you more."

I smiled and looked at Finn who was talking with his brother John and two other guests. "Maybe... not now."

"Why not?"

"Polly, we're eighteen and I don't think it's the right moment." I shrugged and looked at Polly. "Maybe in two or three years!"

Polly was going to answer when Thomas appeared from the doorway. "Sorry to interrupt, ladies." He smiled looking at us talking. "But Finn would love to spend some time with his girl."

Polly looked at me and then at Tommy. "Finn should have been the one taking her from me!"

Tommy took a pack of cigarette from his pocket looking at Polly with a smirk. "My bad, I told him he had to do something important for me first." He shrugged. "He told me to tell Y/N to show up outside!"

I sighed and kissed Polly in the cheek making her smile. "We will continue in another moment, Aunt Polly."

"You could bet on it, sweet Y/N."

I walked out of the room smiling at Tommy and Polly, ready to meet my loved boyfriend. I laughed when I walked past a tired Arthur. "Are you fine, Arthur?"

He looked at me and smiled shaking his head. "Just a whisky on another whisky, little sister!" He laughed and put his hands on his hips. "Why is that idiot of a brother leaving a wonderful doll like you alone?"

I smiled and shrugged. "He needed to do something for Tommy so my job is to meet him outside!"

"You're too good for this family!"

"No way, you're actually my kind of family if I need to be honest!" I laughed smiling at Ada who was talking to an older woman.

"Yeah well, don't get lost in this fucking labyrinth." He shook his head and looked around. "I thought the bathroom was the kitchen five minutes ago."

"Whisky on whisky isn't good for you, old man!"

"Go find your little boyfriend and go shag somewhere." He gave me a light bump laughing and I kept walking finally arriving outside.

Looking around there were only four Blinders and Grace's guests smoking and drinking. Finn was nowhere in sight and I didn't want to spend the rest of the night waiting for him. But then he walked to me appearing from a little road with John and Isaiah, laughing about something unknown to me.

Then his eyes met mines and he smiled.

"Sorry guys, a beautiful girl needs me for the rest of the night!" He walked to me and put his hands on my waist kissing me softly.

"No fucking shagging, Finn!" John said next to us smirking. "Tommy's rules."

"He said no fighting, I didn't hear no shagging." He told him seriously. "And we just wanted to spend a normal night."

"Dancing and walking like a fucking married couple." John scoffed and that made me shake my head.

"Aren't you married, John?" I asked him smirking. "You should know that marriage is a delicate topic."

John smiled and pointed a finger at me. "We don't need another Polly, love." Then he took a cigarette and sighed. "I give you two another year and then I would love to see a big fancy wedding like this."

"Stop it, John!" Finn said hiding in the crook of my neck.

John laughed and went inside to find Tommy to talk business. In the meanwhile, Finn began kissing my neck making me feel vulnerable.

"Finn, not here!" I tried to take his hands which now were on my ass. "Not now."

He stood still and stared at every part of me. "What a beautiful sight." He made me twirl and my party dress moved with me. "Tonight you're sleeping here, right?"

"You already know the answer, Finn." I smile cheekily.

"Just making sure, love." He began walking keeping me next to him. "What a wedding uh?"

"The fanciest." I said with a smile on my face thinking about the wonderful day. "Where are we going?"

"Just exploring, I guess." He shrugged and looked around laughing. "You know, John told me to take you somewhere and shag you behind a tree."

I shook my head laughing slightly. "Damn, John knows how to be romantic!" I looked at him. "And what did you tell him?"

He sighed and smirked. "I asked for the keys of his car."

I laughed and kept walking leaving his hand. "You're terrible, Finn Shelby!"

We walked for a good ten minutes through the main road laughing and joking and simply spending a lovely night together. Then he stopped in front of the church making me follow his decision.

"Finn?" I asked him confused. "Why did you stop?"

Looking at the church he just looked at me and told me to follow him inside. "Five minutes, nothing more."

I sighed and followed him inside trying to not ruin the wonderful dress. "I swear I won't shag in a church. I'm not that courageous, Finn!"

He laughed and it was music for my ears. The only sound you could hear inside the church was produced by our voices, giggling and whispering even though there was no one inside. It was slightly dark and some flowers from that afternoon were still there. Silence.

Finn walked the aisle while I was behind him, stopping when I noticed the beautiful characteristics of the little church. Then I looked at him, he stopped at the altar and he was now staring at me with his breathtaking eyes and that smile that makes me feel so little and so protected. I smiled slightly still in the middle of the aisle.

"Are you going to walk the aisle or you prefer to stay there?" He asked with smirk.

It was a strange situation. We just needed a priest and we could have been married in no time. But we both knew it was all a game right in that moment. He was playing the part of the groom and I was the bride.

"I don't know." I shrugged smirking. "Are you sure you want to spend the rest of your life with me?"

He was looking at me with a sincere smile and I knew in that precise moment he was the only one for me. "Absolutely."

I made six other steps before being in front of him and we began laughing like little children at the end of our show.

"Now what?" I ask him looking around with a smile.

He took my hands in his and sighed. "Can you imagine us getting married with a big fancy wedding like this one?"

I chuckled. "I don't know." I shrugged and kept looking around. "Nowadays people talk about marriage and children as if it's nothing!"

"Polly told you something?"

"Polly isn't a surprise, really." I frown slightly. "She talks about it every time we're in the same room alone!"

"Well, it's Aunt Polls." He chuckled. "And John only likes to upset us, love."

"I know but we talked about it." I looked at him. "Not now and most importantly not a fancy wedding!"

He laughed and took me closer to him, putting his hands on my waist. "No fancy wedding?"

I shook my head smiling.

"I have to talk to Tommy, then." He sighed. "A Shelby without a fancy wedding will be something new for the family!"

"I like it." I hugged him smiling. "Me, you and a little wedding."

"But not now."

"Exactly."

There was a delicate silence, the only sound was coming from the party. Finn kissed me softly as if he was making a point with this move.

"If not now, then tomorrow?" He asked cheekily making me giggle.

"Finn Shelby, I will marry you but not now, not tomorrow and not the day after tomorrow." I kissed him another time. "But you are stuck with me for the rest of your life, boy."

[bentnotbroken1fanfiction]

Bruises on Both my Knees (For You)

Billy hasn't been able to satisfy the itch beneath his skin since leaving California. Unfortunately, he doesn't think he has a chance in hell to find what he needs in small town USA.

But that all changes when he sees the fire in Steve Harrington's eyes the night they fight. 

Chapter Seventeen

Billy hands Steve a cigarette, watches his face as he lights it, and asks, "What's wrong, Princess?"

"Nothing." He replies too quickly. He doesn't want him to worry. "Why would something be wrong?" 

He gets a glare for his obvious lie. "Steve, I wasn't born yesterday." 

"Ok, fine." He sighs. "My parents showed up. They're back in town until next week."

Billy blows smoke out the window. "I feel like there's more to it than just your folks cramping your style by being home."

Sometimes he's annoyed that Billy reads him so well. "It's...my dad is giving me the silent treatment." He starts. "Which is fine, I don't want to talk to him. But we got into it on Saturday. It was the same old shit but he was being really weird with his questions and was getting even more pushy about my reputation . I got pissed and mouthed off, and when he threatened me I practically dared him to kick me out."

"What the fuck, Steve?" Billy honestly looks upset. "Are you trying to get kicked out?" 

"No, no. Don't worry. He'd never do it." He assures him. "It would look bad on him. That's why I said it."

It's Billy's turn to sigh. "You're playing with fire, man."

"Yeah, maybe." He admits, because he knows he is. "But I was just…I had just dropped you off and I wasn't in any kind of mood to get grilled. And then he made it sound like someone had been feeding him information about me, but I have no fucking clue who it would be."

"Uh, Wheeler." He answers, like case closed. 

But Steve shakes his head. "No, they got here too fast for it to have been her, and he didn't really act like he knew about you specifically ." Billy relaxes a little. "Plus, she doesn't have my dad's work number."

"Ok, well who does?" He asks, "or who has access to someone who does?"

"I don't.." He begins but trails off. 

Tommy H catches his eye as he walks past them on the drivers side, one arm draped around Carols shoulders, and Steve feels a little sick. 

No. 

No…that's stupid. There's no way. It's been too long since their falling out for him to just randomly talk shit about Steve to his dad for revenge. Steve is wrong. He has to be. 

"Steve?" Billy turns his head to see what he's looking at. "Hall? You think it could be him?"

"No, I mean, yeah, his dad and my dad are friends, so he'd have access, but I don't know why he would?" 

Billy watches him disappear into the school. "It probably wasn't on purpose." 

Steve frowns. "What do you mean?"

"I know Hall is a major douche, but he still pines over your friendship. It's kind of pathetic."

"No, he doesn't." He scoffs. 

"Oh, you have no idea. Who the fuck do you think told me all about you? Dude whines every time you're not around. Steve this and Steve that. Did you hear about his girlfriend? Did you see the new marks he has? It's not fair that Steve gets to have all the crazy sex." He smirks, "you're welcome for that by the way." 

Steve rolls his eyes while Billy continues, "So he was probably just bitching to his dad about you and how you're getting all this action and have an older girlfriend and shit. Then his pops thinks your dad may want to know what his son is getting up to and decides to call him."

That actually makes a lot of sense. "Oh my god, you're probably right. I'm always so confused when my dad talks about my reputation, because I don't really… have one anymore? But if he heard it from Allen he'd just assume that the whole town is talking about it, when the reality is it's just Tommy talking about it."

"Jesus, I hate the small town bullshit." Billy groans and flicks his cigarette butt out the window. "Come on, pretty boy. We're going to be late for first period and I don't want Wheeler up my ass thinking I made you late because I fucked your brains out of your head." 

"Well, you fucked me hard enough to make me limp for two days, so she wouldn't be too far off base." 

Billy makes a growly noise in the back of his throat that kind of goes straight to his dick. "Are you fucking serious?"

"Yeah, man, my mom asked me if my ankle was alright at the god damn breakfast table. I almost died , Billy. I choked on my fucking bacon." He's laughing now and it feels like a small weight has lifted. 

Billy shakes his head and opens the door. "Jesus Christ. Shut up before I'm tempted to give a repeat performance." 

[jetblackpayne]

𝒾. 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝑀𝓊𝓇𝒹𝑒𝓇𝐻𝑜𝓊𝓈𝑒

summary: In which Arden Keaton (OC) and her family move into the infamous “MurderHouse.” Along her stay, she meets the victims and 2 teenager in particular. Together, they help her uncover truths and mysteries of her abilities. [shitty description don’t @ me]

wc: 4k+

pairings: (OC x murderhouse)(OC x Michael Langdon!soon)

warning: brief mention of descriptive cutting and marks, swearing/language, blood.

° :.   *₊  ° .  ☆  ✮ °: .*₊  ° . ° . • ☆  ✮　°:.*₊  ° . ° . •

I never knew if what I've experienced was real. Recurring thoughts of them being nothing more than illusions. Everything Ive known my whole life seemed normal to me. After all, I've been doing it forever; so it seemed almost frightening that it was abnormal to people like my sister and my father. I didn't figure it out on my own. I was told but something that was once living; Beyond the walls of the house with a gruesome history. Sometimes I feel like I belong in a different world with people like me. My mother said she felt the same; seems as though she's about the only one. Unknowing of what I could possess, I was frightened. Frightened of what power would do to a person who couldn't harness it. After all, fear of a name or ability only increases fear is the thing itself. Why should I start to fear things now when I should have been of myself the whole time?

° :.  *₊  ° .  ☆  ✮　°:.*₊ ° . ° .

A light breeze swept through the creaking floorboards of Murder House. The history of the house was horrid, beyond imaginable; or so the retail lady, whom the youngest daughter, Arden could never remember the name of, told her family. The Keaton family certainly didn't know why they were getting themselves into. If they were getting themselves into. Arden slowly trailed behind her family as she made her way up the path to the front doors of their new house. Chills ran down her body as she view the exterior of the house; Arden didn't know how to feel. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. When she stepped in, she felt as if she were being swallowed whole. Her vision then began to flicker like lights. She shifted her eyes as she saw dozens of people doing their own thing. Some were watching television. Most were just talking to one another as they walked around the house as if it were theirs. Once. The mysterious people, all at once diverted their sight from their previous activities to look in the direction of their seer. Slowly, they walked toward her in a steady manner. Vacant expressions on their faces which somehow felt hollow. She hesitantly walked back as she hit the wall behind her. Hands reaching out to grab her as if they were contemplating her existence. Her breathing pace quickened; unable to yell for help. Just as they were about to touch her, the light flickered again. She gasped as her gaze reverted from the dull wallpaper that looked like it was put up in the 1800's; to the chandelier that look like it was a few screws loose of colliding with the floor; then back to her family and the retail lady who walked in like the sight was ordinary. She looked at them in disbelief, "Did you see that?" She gasped at them walking in as if they hadn't envisioned the horrific sight. The retail lady shifted uncomfortably. Her eyes diverted to the cherry-wood floor beneath them and began to click her short heels lightly.

"See what?" James Keaton, her father spoke as his hand rested on her shoulder blade. The sudden impact sent her flying a few feet away from her father. She looked around the room one more time to see if the people would come out again. Nothing. She couldn't tell what saw. The illusion lead her mind into a spiral, "The people?" she stated pointing to mid-air. Although she couldn't convince her self if it was more of a question or not.

"People?" Her older sister Mary Keaton started to question her younger sisters silly accusations. "What people?"

"The people—." Arden began to loose her mind. She could have sworn there were others present in the house the moment she walked in. "I could have sworn there were people walking around. They were doing things."

"What kind of things?"

"Like I'd know!" She exclaimed as she walked back to the front doors of the house. She reached the already open doorframe and turned around to face her family and the retail lady once again, "Normal house things. Now please. Can we look at another house?”

"We don't have a choice Ar." Nancy Keaton, her mother, spoke up, "We already put a down payment on this house. It was half the price we would have payed in the valley." Arden glanced up at her with disbelief. Her mother was a different story when it came to family. She felt a connection with her. Her aura, Arden felt, resembled hers the way her sister and fathers could never. Despite the mutual similarities, it was always clear when they weren't on the same page. Like now; Of course her parents purchases a house without her consent. It wouldn't come as a shock to her as if it were true. Her family, to her, usually left ger out of discussions. Claiming she was was too young; as if 17 were too young. She was practically an adult to the world. Sometimes she contemplated that it was more than just age. Maybe it was just her. Her mom looked at her for a brief second before continuing to conversate with the retail lady.

Her older sister glaced in her direction. She could have sworn a smirk rose on her lips. "I should know. After all, I came with them."

Arden's body shuttered in annoyance. Her head turned slowly, trying to regain her thought process to face her older sister. "So while I was at Camp Redwood, you looked at and placed a down payment without my say?" Mr. and Mrs. Keaton avoided eye contact with their youngest daughter. She couldn't tell if it was out of guilt or simply not caring. Arden turned to face the retail lady and gave a snarky smile in her direction. She could feel the lady's uncomfortable stance in the midst of their debacle. Her face stayed static as she looked over to her family, "The less I know the better right? I mean them I won’t feel too bad in the long run.” Her family shared a glance with each other.

The retail lady walked over to the parents with her cream coloured clip board in her hand. A pen in between her frail fingers and she motioned for Mr. Keaton to retrieve it. He took both from her; skimming the paper of the house details when his eyes fixated on one section; the history of the house section. "Now would be as good as ever to tell you behind the walls of this house."

"You mentioned some people got murdered." James Keaton spoke up taking the pen and clipboard from her, beginning to sign the legal documents of the house. Arden's stomach dropped as if she were riding a rollercoaster. She felt eyes burning on her on the back of her head. Glancing around, she found nothing but dark corners of the unlit portion of the house. Her feelings were rarely incorrect. It was both rather scary and brilliant.

"37." The lady spoke up making the fours heads spin fast. Thier hearts dropped at the big number of deaths in the house they stood in. Arden didn’t wanna know where either. She was afraid as it was and didn’t want it radiating off her. 37? What kind of butchery is this?

"And let me ask you something," James tapped the paper with the end of the pen. His lips pursed in gas his eyebrows cocked, "H-How many people, per say, owned this house?"

"37." Arden shook her head in disbelief as the absurd words left the ladies mouth.

"Don't you think after every single person whose owned this house got murdered, they wouldn't put it out on the market?" Arden spoke stating the elephant in the room. "And how do we know there's no dead people roaming around this place. Pretty sure what I saw wasn't a coincidence. I feel like Raven Baxter." Her mother have her a look without Arden's knowledge. A stinging sensation at the back of her head caused the girl to hissed. Her eyes divertaed at her mother. Her eyes gleamed a darker green then her original. Her teeth bitin the inside of her lip. Arden looked at her with a frightened look. Her mother didn’t act this way. It was like something was controlling her body; or was it? She didn’t know what to think after what she saw and felt. Her eyes swapped shades like a mood ring.

”Yeah dead people kinda freak me out." Mary said to Janet as she scratched the back of her neck. She bit her lip as she looked away from the retail lady.

Arden scoffed, "Please," She walked slowly up to her sibling with her arms crossed over her chest. She huffed out a breath she was unaware of holding and rolled her eyes at her sibling. She looked at her dead in the eye as her venomous worlds rolled off her tongue, "You practically live with one," and she was off. Her steps took her up the stairs where she's would 'claim' her new room. Her footsteps creaked up the old-floorboards; one louder than the next on purpose. She couldn’t deny the houses beauty despite looking straight out of a Stephen King novel. The wide-set hallways were nothing more than an illusion to Arden. It felt to her as though it were getting longer in distance to the several doors on the walls. Each door looked like it were the same but a different story lied behind the hinges. Arden looked at several doors in the hallway seeing different scenarios occurring before her eyes. A woman in agony crying over a baby. Two nurses covered in blood. Her mind was spiralling as she felt her eyes roll back into her head stumbling onto a door she had yet to look into. She looked around the room and took long drags of oxygen into her lungs. The room smelled of fresh paint and cigarette smoke. The walls coated in light grey paint that looked like it wasn’t even. The paint dried rolling off the side of the windows and bottom corners. Her eyes landed on the ceiling; only to stumble to the ground backing away slowly clutching her arms tightly. Her heart skipped a few beats; that or it dropped to the bottom of her stomach. Above her in her we're the words written in red, 'Welcome to MurderHouse.’

°  :. *₊ ° . ☆ ✮　°:. *₊ ° . ° .  •°  :. *₊ ° . ☆ ✮ °:.

Her mother and father eventually came up after not hearing from thier youngest daughter and despite the many apologies to her, she knew it would happen again. They saw her state and cleaned up the red lettering. Unable to tell what it was, Arden wanted to believe it was red marker; no matter what her mind was bebunking. The movers eventually came when Mr. Keaton convielntly, yet idiotically signed the papers. Mr . Keaton was a man of many things; he was titled, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. The title obviously getting to his head, he thought he knew everything. Arden knew he wouldn’t have been able to live a day knowing what she knew. If he had saw what she did, he wouldn’t have stupidly signed the papers claiming their rights to the house. Mrs. Keaton definitely had her fair share of suspicion. She knew her youngest daughter wasn’t crazy for envisioning the people she claimed to have seen. Her eyes saw the same. Dead people roaming around the house; some radiating a more dangerous than the other. She knew her husband was trying to do what was best for his family, and the house so happened to be in the heart of Los Angeles and conviently cheap for its condition. Dispite is foolis actions, his wife knew he meant well. After all, she knew he couldn’t be able to live a second as her. Arden to her knowledge, was very similar to her. Mirroring almost. She would grow up to be powerful.

Mrs. Keaton walked into the room they claimed as the family room. She came across a black leather couch set up sandwiched around a rectangular coffee table. Just as the movers were about to take the set away, she stopped them hastily, “No, we’ll keep that. Everything in this room. The rest else can go.” The men obliged and quickly left so the family could settle. Meanwhile, Arden began to decorate her new room. Her white walls paired with dark purple curtains. The bed coated with lilac sheets. The cherry wood flood boards covered continuously by a light grey rug. Delicate fairy lights strung all along the top corners of her walls, cascading to the frame above her bed.

"Nice fairly lights." A voice spoke behind the girl. Chills ran down her spine to the voice that seemed unrecognisable. She turned around to find a dirty blonde-haired girl a little taller than her looking around with a cigarette loosely hanged from her lips. Arden looked at her with disbelief and fascination. How did she get in? "But I prefer it a little dimmer. Im not a big fan of rethinking if the suns in my room or not.” The girl walked up to her and inhaled the smoke from her cancer stick. Her eyes peering dead in Arden's soft ones. Something, to her, didn't feel right. The beats from her heart began to quicken its pace as her mouth felt like a desert. The girl exhaled the smoke directly in her face. The fumes travelled up Arden's nose and in her eye sockets. Her eyes clouded as her vision got narrow. She saw a girl walking down a trail. Teenagers parting ways with friends. The girl was the same girl in her room. She looked the same. She inhaled smoke from her cigarette as she passed by a group of three other girls. The leader of the group kept yelling and taunting her for smoking on school grounds. The leader, who finally had enough of the other girls half-ass responses, tried to shove the cigarette down her throat. The struggling girl who she just met, spat in her face running away with a victorious smirk. "YOU ARE DEAD! YOU ARE DEAD!" She screamed after her. Arden took a deep breath to only find her nose dripping. Her hand went to touch it to pull with blood under her fingernails. The crimson streak fell between her teeth as the taste of metal lingered in her mouth. A shaky breath huffed out of her lungs and into the cold air. Arden's heart was rapidly pumping in and out of her chest as if she ran a marathon.

"Holy shit! What was that?” The blonde girl who was in her flash/vision asked Arden. The girl reached a hand to Arden. Her arm accidentally moving across her collarbone to hold her shoulder in comfort. The sleeve of her darl blue shirt rode up to reveal marks on her delicate skin. Some cuts deeper and fresher looking than others. The red lines making her skin look like it were drained from every drop of blood in her body. She began to feel nauseous. Her head bobbing down, bouncing back up every so often telling herself not to give in. Her eyes rolled around the room landing on the opened door. From her spot, a clear view of the bathroom came into sight. She began to see tunnel vision. She saw the girl next to the sink with a razor in her hand. Gradually pushing the sharp object into her wrists, pressing lightly and harder over different spots on her arm. Reopening new cuts as blood tan down her arm dripping onto the marble floor. Tears streaming down her face as she looked at herself in the mirror. Arden stumbled back placing her hand on the back of a rolling chair near her desk; she fell back on the floor; the carpeted spot brawling her fall. What was the sight I saw? Gasping for air, her hand came up to her heart as a whimper arose from her throat. Tears clouded her eyes. Her hands went up to wipe the tears in her eyes, when she felt them thicker than usual. Her finger tips pulled away to see blood. "You're fucking bleeding out of your eye sockets!"

“You say it like I don’t know.” Arden scoffed at the girl stating the obvious. Propping her feet on the ground as she slowly stood up, Arden brushed off the dirt from her skirt faced the stranger in her 'room.' "Not to come off as paranoid, but what are you doing in my room?"

“Oh do you do speak?” The girl challenged, "I'm Violet." She stepped forward and shook her hand ignoring her question at hand. Arden took a step back as the hairs on the back of her neck and arms stood up like needles. The girl was cold. Like dead winter. "I used to live here but," she paused and she looked at the inside of her forearm that brushed against Arden, “Something happened."

"What?" Arden questioned. She wanted to know the meaning behind the flash.

"None of your business." Violet scoffed snapping at the girls ridiculous question.

"Okay well it's not my fault that you decided to wander into my house, then decide to tell me your life story then give me no answers to why you're in my room."

Violet was taken aback as her eyes flickered between her clothed arms, cigarette then to the girl in front of her. Taking etched out strides towards Arden, Arden slowly backed away, "I never told you anything new girl."

“Sup I'm Tate," A voice said off in the far corner of her room. Arden's heart thumped out of her chest without her body physically moving. She had gotten pretty good at it. The boy, 'Tate,' movedcloser to her as she stood still, unsure of why this is happening to her. Not one, but two people entered her house of 15 minutes. Tate finally stood in front of her, eye averting to hers. His head bent down as his lips gently graze Arden's ear. Her breaths hitched slightly as his large hands came in contact with her wrist. He used the advantage to lean forward, "Wanna hookup?" Arden's eyes saw shapes in what looked to be a kaleidoscope effect. Her mind hurt. Not again.. Her thoughts swirled as she saw a blonde boy sitting on the bed. His wavy blonde hair framed his face and chiselled jaw line. This boy had to have been a creation from the Gods themselves. His piercing blue eyes looking i'm the direction of Arden's vision as if he knew of her presence. Smirking as he looked to her distinct direction. He looked about her age, if not older. He turned his head from her direction to the floor playing with his hands, to what looked like agony. Who hurt him? To his right, a man who looked to be in his late thirties and the shaggy blonde boy who asked her to hook up. The boy muttered something about Tate being his father. They looked the same age. This boy might be pretty, but must be on something.. Tate lost it and sprang forward; only to be caught by the man. The boy, startled, leaned back on the bed a little. "You didn't spring from my nutsack; GOT IT!" Tate spat at the boy harshly making Arden wince. Tears threatening to spill from the boys ducts. His lip quivering slightly. "Not even I could create something as monstrous. As evil as YOU." Tates pupils darkened at the sight of the boy in front of him. Arden's mind came back to reality and yanked her wrist from his tight grip. The warm feeling of blood trickling down both sides of her face. The base of her ear socket felt cold as the stillness in the room coated her sorrows. Tate gave her a look of disbelief, "Why the fuck are your ears bleeding?"

"That's not all," Violet stepped forward, briefly sharing contact with Tate. She took another drag of her cigarette as the boy looked over his shoulder. He saw what once was his, diminish behind the smoke. It was all his fault. His lifeless heart ached for hers, and although being as stubborn and misleading as ever, Violets did too. She turned her head to look away from his captivating stare, "Her nose and eyes were too. Fucking mental.”

"Fucking wicked" Tate gasped as he looked at Arden struggling to wipe the blood from the four holes it came dripping down.

“You two aren’t like anyone Ive met. It’s like don’t belong here but you do in a way..” Arden trailed off as she pressed a tissue to wipe and absorb the blood the best she could.

“So you noticed?” Tate asked the girl with a small smirk. Violet gave him a look powerful enough to kill. She shook her head back and forth taking a hit of her cigarette for the hundredth time it seemed. Arden closed her eyes from the smoke. She didn’t want to have another flash. She’s experienced them before but not as triggering as the ones in this house. The house harnessed negative energy. She could feel the pain embodied in her as if it were attached to her soul. It seemed quiet in the room. Still air and white noise from the curling fan were heard. Not even breathing from the two teenagers in her room. Her eyes opened to find lingering smoke and the two gone.

° :.  *₊ ° . ☆✮　 °:.*₊ ° . ° . •

[lightsorigins]

Fluctuations

 When he opened his eyes, Malden remained as straight as a board. He stared at the bedroom ceiling for a few seconds before turning his head to the window. The shutters were wide open. Yet he remembered that Kieran had closed them the night before. It didn't matter. He stood up slowly and felt the icy cold of the systemic dawn make him shiver. It was around nine o'clock, the sun was rising. Even slower than he was, he thought. Malden knew that it was not easy to be more phlegmatic than he was.

      - Except you, Mr. Sun," he murmured, still leaning out the window.

      He lost himself in his thoughts for a few minutes. Now that he'd had a good time with his friend, he'd have to think about going home and face his mother's wrath for allowing himself to leave the day before. What an idea to get up so early! He remembered very well that sleep had come late, and fatigue would quickly overcome him during the day. Malden turned and saw Kieran lying on his back, his blanket over part of his body diagonally. He was sleeping with his mouth open and snoring so loudly he could have woken a dragon. The sight made him chuckle.

      Discreetly, he collected his things, put on his shoes, and left the apartment without waking anyone. He put on his headphones and played "How Long Can I Go" by "Sam Celentano". Once outside, several options came to mind. There was a park north of Lausya, where he often went to play sports. He also had a painting he had started and wanted to finish. However, the longer he stayed outside, the more problems he would have to deal with when he returned.

      - It's up to me. I can go to the park and do push-ups. Take up my painting, knowing that I might run into mom. Maybe I can give Sylva a call and see if I can't come over early. I could have stayed at Kieran's, but now that I'm out, I'm not going to wake him up to come back... And seeing as he's asleep, he won't wake up, that's for sure, he concluded by putting his hand on his face.

      Malden suddenly noticed that he had a few unread messages. Naturally, these were from his mother. The most important one was this:

"I don't appreciate your attitude lately. We'll have a discussion as soon as you get home. You know there are rules to follow in this house, and they apply to everyone, even you! »

      The first response that came to mind was "You never liked my attitude, and you never understood me. "But he found it too tiring to get into a conflict with her. It was better not to escalate the situation. Akane, his mother, had been an adventurer during her youth. During certain periods, it happened that she went on adventures for a few weeks with her old group of friends. She is a Gial (Earth) atmologist, focused on the Veltôs (Control) path, and her atmology is an ochre red. At a very young age, Akane received a strict and hard education, and also underwent many hazing which forged her character for sure. She has never been an example of softness. This hard and uncompromising character made communication with Malden particularly complicated over the years.

      It didn't matter in the end. Malden decided to get on his way and go home. He might as well face Mother Dragon as quickly as possible to put out the flames. Unfortunately, it didn't take much for his mood to be affected. These expressions from his mother reminded him how lonely he felt in his family, despite the good relationship he had with his sister Sawako, and his brother Hayate. He always ended up being seen as too intense, too whiny or touchy and moody. When he thought about it, however, Malden knew that factually he lacked nothing. He was a healthy, rather good-looking young man, good at a few subjects, athletic, with a group of sympathetic and understanding friends, a certain amount of freedom in his personal life, and so on. However, it seemed that something was missing.

      It was as if there was a void somewhere. A fear of not living up to his own image, or of failing at what he could do. He was so special that he could be admired for the strangeness of his thoughts and artistic productions, but also stigmatized, and found "weird", or "unapproachable", to use terms he had heard about himself. Yet he longed to be accepted for who he was, without becoming like everyone else.

    When he opened the door to the apartment, he expected to find his mother getting ready for work. Instead, he found Sawako sitting in the kitchen. She was having breakfast: a glass of hot delicatessen milk with a little pethmergale sugar. The whole thing made the milk look dark and creamy. She was reading a manga while smoking a cigarette.

      - Hi! he said. I didn't think you'd be here at this hour. I thought I'd find Mom instead.

 -      Nah, she left pretty early this morning to buy some stuff. I don't think she's gonna be back for a while. Where did you go anyway? Kieran's?

      - Yeah. We wanted to watch "Alvist Wars" quietly, but Isaac had come into my room yesterday to snoop on something. I yelled at her, she got involved and... well, you know mom.

      - Yeah, I know what you mean. Well, she wasn't too happy about it. In fact, she was angry that you broke like that. I understand, but you could have avoided it, or told me about it. I would have tempered the situation a bit, you know how I usually do.

      - I know, but Kieran kind of rushed me, I didn't have much time to make my decision. I've done this plenty of times before, but it seems like yesterday was worse than usual. Why is that?

      - Didn't Mom tell you what we have to do tonight?

      - No?

      - Okay, too weird. Well, actually we're supposed to go to Welliyo with Dad, Mom and Helen to see Melva. Maybe there's some news about her memory, but nothing transcendent you know.

      Malden hiccupped in surprise and recoiled slightly. He felt stupid, but also excluded for not having been kept in the loop.

      - Is she serious? Why didn't she tell me?

      - I think she was going to propose to you yesterday.

      - Suggesting me the day before for the day after? What if I had something to do? Yes, I would have canceled. I would cancel anything to go see Melva, but still.

      - Anyway, chances are that's why she's so upset about your escapade yesterday. You should just apologize and tell her you'll be there tonight, if you want to be safe. I'll cover for you, but do what I say. I mean, I'll figure out how to fix it, I'll improvise.

      - And you think you can get Isaac to stop making my life miserable?

      - Don't worry, I'll work it out by ruining his. There are a few things he and I need to discuss. He's still asleep, but I'm setting him up for a real wake-up call.

      - You're handling it, thanks. I have to go see Sylvania this afternoon. Do you think you can handle that too?

      - Consider it done," Sawako replied, winking at him. 

 Malden knew he could always count on her in many circumstances. At 27 years old, she was the oldest of her siblings, and therefore the one with the authority right after her parents. And fortunately, Sawako had a lot in common with Malden. Both of them were very sensitive and attached to their deepest values, but Sawako tended to be more withdrawn and passive than her brother. She was a specialist in the art of running away and saying nothing, letting go, sleeping and lazing around. Beyond her studies in water atmology, she loved to write poetry, fiction, and play video games with horror, romance, and role-playing themes. At least that's what her mother told her. Malden, on the other hand, was much more active and enjoyed going out, shopping and discovering more about the world around him. With his pocket money, he bought a lot of things like incense, posters and an infinite amount of clothes that he could wear according to his moods. Besides,

    since he would have to go back to Sylvania in the afternoon, he started looking for different clothes to change into after his shower. Leaving his hair down, Malden put a diamond-shaped earring in his left ear, as well as a golden pendant with a small sphere. He put on a gray sweater with "N.O.T.H.I.N.G." in bright green letters. Further down, in small print, it read "Nobody On This Healthiest Irrelevant Narrow-minded Globality. ». Malden liked to wear this sweater when he wasn't sure how he felt. He often hoped that those closest to him would be able to decode this information and understand how he was feeling by carefully observing how he dressed. But it never worked.He went to his room to finish getting ready. After putting on his black shorts and sneakers, the same green as his sweater's typography, he heard his mother coming back to the apartment. Sawako immediately struck up a conversation with her. Malden reached out to listen.

      - Malden is back to the point.

      - Is he in his room?

      - Yeah, but I think it's best to leave it alone for a bit today.

      - Oh no! Have you seen how he's acting right now? I have to talk to him, this is too much. And he doesn't answer the messages I leave! That's not an attitude!

      - I know, I know mom. But he's a teenager, so you have to imagine that he's going to do a few more silly things like that.

      - Sawako, do you defend your brother when he takes the wrong path? Do you think you're helping him to act that way?

      Akane spoke loudly and raised her voice with every sentence. She was panting, exhausted from bringing all the groceries alone from the store. Despite her intensive training as a fighter, she was much less active since she had built her family life, and was therefore much more quickly tired for actions that, in her youth, were just a walk in the park for her.

 -      Plus no one helped me with the groceries today! I have to do everything alone in this house, it's not possible! Call your father for me, so he can come and help me clean up instead of sleeping again!

      - Mom, I'm not defending Malden, but I think you're overreacting a bit. He just went to Kieran's. He wanted to watch "Alvist Wars" and he came home early. He's doing well in school and he doesn't have bad company. Don't you think you should leave him alone for a while and deal with Suzanne and Hayate, who are always provoking him?

      - Yes, yes it's good. Okay, I'll leave it. Let him do. Call your father now. Is Malden coming tonight so we can go visit Melva, yes or no?

      - It will be there.

      Malden smiled broadly and clenched his fist in victory. What could he do without Sawako? He felt himself growing wings. The weekend would probably be much more enjoyable than he had imagined. Grabbing his cell phone, he decided to send a message to Sylvania.

      "Hi Sylva 😊! Do you think we could eat together this lunch? Like, at a snack bar not too far from your place, and then we spend the afternoon together like we said? »

      Every time he took the time to send her a message, Malden's hands were shaking and sweaty. Would he choose the right words? Was he being pushy? Or too weird? Did she realize how he felt about her? And even worse: did he really feel something for her? And this something, was it love? It was so complex for him to understand, so difficult to be totally sure, considering the particular situation. Didn't she just remind him of his sister, who is now in the hospital and he misses her so much? Malden didn't know. He always came to the conclusion that it was probably best to let it go and see where it would take him.

      His phone vibrated. It was her. She had just answered! He hurried to open the message.

      "Hi Malden! That's a really cool proposal. Where do you want to eat? And what do you want to eat? Something usual and not too far away, just to do it quietly? »

      "Noon, at the pizza place across the street from you? »

 "Perfect! See you later! »

      Since everything was already planned, all he had to do was spend the time he had left doing something he liked. So he threw himself into the painting he had started a few days ago. Malden was fond of searching for photographs of various places in the Mysticiën, and recently his attention had been drawn to pictures of the Omaltäb Forests in Almarosa territory to the south. He was busy redrawing the trees with pink, dark blue, green or even black foliage that could be found there. The simple fact of smelling the paint in the room made him feel a certain fullness that nothing else could give him. After taking care to lock the door of his room so as not to be disturbed, he painted for a long time and moved forward on his canvas. If for some reason he couldn't become an alvist or a martial artist, Malden knew he would become a painter and would do everything he could to fulfill that dream. And even if he did become an alvist and a martial artist, he would be a painter too! With his savings, he vowed to buy a high performance camera and take photographs from original angles and then redesign and paint unusual places in the country, giving them a special interpretation with special color schemes. This was how he would communicate to the world the way he perceived and felt the universe. This idea excited him.

      Shortly before the appointment time, Malden rushed to the front door to get going. When he opened it, he passed the kitchen, where he saw his parents preparing dinner. While he was already on the landing, he heard his mother's authoritative voice.

      - Be back by five o'clock, we'll go see Melva. We won't wait for you forever.

      - Uh, yes, Mom. See you tonight!

      - That's it," she said dismissively.

      The sun was shining on Lausya, accompanied by a rather strong wind. A gust of wind blew straight towards Malden, removing his hood and messing up his hair. He who wanted to be elegant for Sylvania, it was from now on lost pain. He sighed discreetly while putting back his hood. That was not going to dry his good mood found. He was now listening to "Apricot" by "Sam Celentano". Malden could already imagine himself with Sylvania teaching him some scales and making him listen to her melodies. Her calmness, her kindness and her rigor were for him like nectar and ambrosia. He admired her terribly, and these sentimental questions about her were very recent. But he had known her for a few years already.

      After a few minutes, Malden reached the main square where Sylvania and her mother lived. There was a fountain in the center, and some stone slabs decorated with flowers tended by the city's gardeners. A few people were there, including groups of children who had come to buy pancakes or ice cream, despite the cold season. Sitting under a white umbrella at one of the many tables of the local pizzeria, Sylvania was waiting patiently, her phone in hand. She had let her long red hair down, was wearing a white dress with blue polka dots and a small silver necklace and a pair of simple earrings of the same complexion. When she saw Malden, she waved at him.

      - Hi! How are you? I'm so hungry! I've already reserved a table for the two of us, so what should we order? Asked she, cheerful.

      - I'll probably have a salad with a slice of pizza. I'm not very hungry, but it'll do for me!

      - Are you sure you'll have enough energy to listen to my news and convince me to join your group if you don't eat enough? She joked.

      - Don't worry about it. I want you to join us enough, I don't need a pizza to help me!

      After they had actually placed their order, the two young people ate together and talked about the rain and the weather. Malden admired the way Sylvania spoke about her extracurricular activities, but also her involvement in various social struggles. She was already very active on Signold - a well-known social network on Elzetarân - and shared many videos about animal causes and ecology. Sylvania already seemed to be a big shot and followed very closely the actions of the Renovators' Guild. It was a group of atmologists and adventurers of all kinds, formed several decades ago. They were in charge of monitoring the development of the ecosystems and biomes of Elzetari after certain confrontations, whose damage could have seriously damaged various places and destroyed the fauna, as well as the flora.

      Time passed without them noticing. Soon enough, they finished their meal and went to Sylvania. Coming from a well-to-do family, they lived in a large residence where the richest inhabitants of Lausanne were to be found. The mayor, Oscar Fanghël, lived nearby with his wife and son. Malden was always impressed when he set foot in Sylvania's house: everything was always so clean! The living room seemed huge and everything he saw seemed to be priceless. The marble walls of a very light and sober

grey were decorated with paintings showing fantastic scenes. One could see atmological warriors fighting carniocs and wild creatures in the skies, unleashing various elemental forces.

      - Every time you come over, you can't help but leave your eyes glued to the picture in the living room. You know I'm going to end up asking my mom if I can give it to you, right?

      Malden flinched and blushed. He had never realized how much these paintings could absorb him. The idea that he might be seen to be lusting after them embarrassed him.

      - Oh no, not at all! It's just... I really wish I had a talent like that. You know, I see how well the color scheme is mastered, it drives me crazy! There is the light, so well reflected, and the contrast between the atmos used by the fighters on the painting, the expression of pain on the creatures, and even the effects of the wind that blows even though we don't see it. It's beautiful. Every time I see it, I feel like it's the first one.

      - I think it was Cleora Stolteïska who made this painting. I would have to see it again with my mother. And it seems to me that she is still alive. Maybe one day, if you meet her, you can ask her how she did it?

 Malden's eyes seemed to light up. He began to do some research on his cell phone and found more of the painter's work.

 -      Wow, she's so good... If I met her, I wouldn't even know how to ask her questions. Well, anyway, I'll deal with that when I get home. For now, I have someone else talented to admire on her compositions, right?

      - Don't overdo it! I'm just getting by on my mom's classes when it comes to reproducing classics. For my creations, it remains to be seen... I'm not very comfortable with the idea of doing new things, that go out of the box, I'm afraid it won't be very pleasant to the ear, also because...

      - Hey, Sylva! he interrupted her. It's not serious, you have to try in life. Let me listen!

      - But if you think it's ugly, you probably won't want me in your group.

      - Does this mean that you want to join our group so badly that I don't actually need to convince you?

      She hiccupped with surprise and put her hands in front of her mouth. Sylvania had tricked herself. She was more interested in the idea of being part of this music group that was forming than anything else, but she didn't want it to be so obvious. She would still be seen as the girl with no friends, who craved acceptance from others.

      - It's true," she sighed. Well, enough wasted time. Sit down on the couch. I'll play you this little piece. I was inspired by "rocking horse" by "Etolica. ».

      Without adding a word, Malden settled comfortably on the black velvet sofa. Sylvania took her turn on the small purple seat where she sat to play the piano. She had her back to him, slowly positioning her fingers on the keys. The girl took a deep breath before starting to play the first notes of her composition. The start was awkward but soon she gained confidence and began to play with more assurance. The notes flowed together with a certain smoothness.

      To Malden, it was as if a beautiful story was being told. He was so impressed by her dexterity that he wanted to get closer to her to better admire her performance. However, for fear of distracting her, he preferred to stay behind and come without making any noise. She was in front of the large window, giving on a great part of the city. He admired the view as he listened to the soft melody played by his friend, while he imagined how these notes would blend with Teano's expertise on the guitar, Kieran's voice and his drumming.

      The listening went on for almost three minutes, during which time Malden was totally transported. He found himself re-admiring the painting by Cleora Stolteïska that hung on the living room wall. This creation and Sylvania's composition went so well together that he imagined one day he would be a painter of masterpieces and she a professional pianist, creating melodies around his world-renowned paintings. An exciting future, from which he exited as soon as Sylvania gave the last note of her essay. A few seconds were necessary for her to come back to reality. She took again a big inspiration, then she got up and turned slowly towards her friend. The window was left open, and a cold breeze crossed the room and shook her long dress as well as her hair. An image that stuck in Malden's mind and he swore to himself that he would paint this scene.

      - There, now you know my little music. I know it's probably too soft for what you're doing, but it's the best I have in stock right now.

 -      Sylvania, it's really beautiful. It's probably silly and simple as an opinion, but I don't know what else to add... Then, I don't play the piano, so I imagine that there are things to be revised, it's possible. But anyway, I really liked it. You know Kieran, he likes it when it moves a little bit more, but then Teano will be over the moon, you can believe me!

      - Do you think so? She asked hesitantly, as she nervously played with her fingers.

      - I don't think so: I know so! Will you show me some other things? Songs you learned with your mother for example, maybe we could rework some of them and see how to create other songs together from that!

      - It's a good idea. So, let's see...

      All afternoon long, Sylvania and Malden discussed and studied in detail different compositions, some of which they took care to select to present to Malden and Teano. Gradually, more than his ambiguous attraction to Sylvania, it was his passion for art and music that took over. He was very curious and concentrated in these tasks, as she was too.

      Since the time for him to be reunited with his family was fast approaching, Malden prepared to leave to avoid being late. But just before he left, Sylvania received a phone call that seemed to puzzle her.

      - An unexpected call? he asked.

      - Well... It's Annabelle. You know, the girl in Sara's class.

      He looked at her with a puzzled look.

      - Maybe it's her mother calling? I think she works with yours, right?

      - Not anymore. They kept in touch but... Well, wait. "Hello?" She says.

      "Yes, Sylvania? It's Annabelle. Sorry, we haven't talked in a while, but I've been trying to reach Sara and even her brother but no one answers! »

      "No worries Anna. But do you need anything? »

      "This will probably sound weird to you, but my grandfather came back from a long trip a few days ago. And you'll never guess: he brought back with him a Phelidus Tenebris! »

      As Sylvania turned on the speaker phone, Malden also heard the news. He struggled to keep his astonishment from being heard. The Pelidus, whatever their nature, were extremely powerful creatures and known to be dangerous.

      "A Phelidus? " Sylvania repeated, worried. "It's still very dangerous! Do the authorities know that this creature is here, in Lausya? What do you want us to do for you? »

      "She's dying and has little ones... six to be exact. That's a bit long, and I don't have much time. Listen, I wish you could come to my house together as soon as possible, you and Sara and the others. Grandpa will be there, he'll be able to explain. »

      "I... well, okay Annabelle. I hope it's nothing serious anyway. I'll see what I can do to keep them updated and get back to you! »

      "Thank you Sylva! »

      She hung up her phone and looked at Malden, stunned.

      - A Pelidus with babies... How often do you hear such stories?

 -      Even the participants of "War of the Alvists" don't have Pelidus! Malden added. The thing I remember is that his grandfather must be really good. Renyu says you can only find them at Failghost Manor. And do you know what they say about that manor?

      - Yeah, that it's haunted or something... We'll talk about it again, I should let you go before your mom gives you a hard time for being late. It's already a miracle my mom wasn't there today and we got to see each other, might as well not ruin the end of the day!

      - You're right, I'm leaving. I forgot one thing! I think you're meeting Teano later on, right?

      - Yes, and he has to spend the night at Renyu's house right after.

      - You can tell him that I did some research the other day, and I found a luthier that might be of interest to him, since he wanted to try his hand at the electric guitar.

      With that, Malden and Sylvania parted ways. He walked through the spacious corridors of the building before finding himself outside, taken by the temperature which seemed to have dropped a few degrees compared to the early afternoon. Happy with this exciting afternoon, he then thought about what he would learn when he arrived at the hospital with his family. If Melva remembered him, at least for a few seconds during the visit, nothing could make him happier. But Malden refused to deny it. With his headphones in, he shuffled along, his imagination conjuring up the worst scenarios about his sister's shattered memory. His mood wavered again.

      When he arrived home, his parents were getting ready to leave. Sawako was already ready, a long dark blue leather coat on her back and her black hair done up in a neat bun. Aware of her brother's difficulty in dealing with this situation, she simply patted him on the shoulder and gave him a hug.

      - Don't worry Maldou, she'll remember us one day. The more we go to see her, the more it will help her.

[thecarpenterclan]

Alfie was distracted to say the least when she stole his smoke. It wasn't like smoking was exactly considered sexy but when she took a drag and exhaled he'd have argued with anyone that it most definitely was. It gave her so far kind of sweet look a bad girl edge and boy did he like that. He was almost having to pick his jaw up at the sight of her. Clearing his throat to bring himself back to reality he thought for a minute on which memory to tell. He didn't want to have to go into too much family history right now, feeling like it would probably kill the mood but his story linked with it, he'd just have to explain later. "My favorite memory..." he paused. "Is with my siblings." The day was almost clear like he was back there and he began to tell her about it. "Kyle, my eldest brother was driving. Noah, he's the second oldest was in the front in the passenger seat. Me and Chiles were in the back of the car. " he kept the reason why they were there held back, it wasn't important to how he remembered what he was about to tell. "It was a hot day, early summer, we were supposed to be in school. We had the windows down and the breeze felt glorious." he left out the fact that Kyle wasn't legally supposed to drive. "We were all really happy, it was that kind of happy where you don't know if you should be, but you just are." he took a deep breath. "My siblings are really important to me and in that time, Chiles was really important to all three of us." he shook his head, he didn't want to go into the gory details. "Maybe because she's the girl of the group." he chuckled trying to lighten the mood he'd almost gone into. "Anyway." he ran a hand through his hair. "There isn't much else to the memory other than us being siblings, finally free of something." he swallowed the lump in his throat. He wasn't supposed to have said that much but she made him so comfortable. Like he could talk to her about anything, even all the stuff he'd kept away for years. "Like I said we were just happy." he smiled at her. "Just all of us together, us boys singing along to the radio, spending quality time as a family. Siblings and best friends." He pressed his lips together tight. Maybe he didn't remember it as nicely as he thought but it was still his best memory because it was when they were first free of something they'd often thought they wouldn't be. Stuck in the memory a little in his head he actually also remembered the panic, and the tense atmosphere. The glances between the boys, charged with energy and anger. But also the looks when they looked at their sister, who spent most of the time asleep and the relief they felt knowing what could have been. He remembered the whispered chats and exchanging of would have beens and could have beens, whilst ensuring she didn't wake up and hear them. It was a little bad but it was mostly good and he remembers a sense of pride at having rescued themselves, together. He looked at Nana. Knowing the memory hadn't come across how he'd first wanted it to. Thinking she'd probably have questions. He nodded his head and took a drag of the cigarette he'd taken back from her with a slight smirk. "Anyway. How about you. What's your happiest memory?" he asked. Wanting the heat off of himself now.

thecarpenterclan:

Alfie wasn’t entirely sure why when she’d let him kiss her the first time that he thought maybe she wouldn’t the second so a wave of relief washed over him. He relished in the moment, enjoying it for as long as was possible without dragging it out too much. He felt the nervousness leave his body suddenly when the reality of what had happened between them sunk in. Before he had time to think about it she was settling down on his recliner next to him and he sure loved the feel of her warmth against him. It was like he hadn’t realised how cold it was and she’d just wrapped him up in a big jacket. Metaphorically at least because it wasn’t cold. He guessed he just liked feeling her next to him, knowing she was there. The smile that was practically stretching his face would probably appear unusual to anyone who didn’t know what had just gone on between the pair. He felt like a lovesick teenager, he felt the stirrings of excitement in the pit of his belly at the idea of the new adventure that could be ahead of them. At all the things they might do together, the big things and the little. He suddenly had the most overwhelming urge to ring Chiles his twin to tell her all about Nana, something he would never have done before. He had to squash the idea for two reasons, first he wasnt sure it wouldn’t totally scare Nana away and second he didn’t think his sister would appreciate it. The thought of sharing what was between them with the world was both scary and exciting. On one hand he wanted to shout from the rooftops on the other he wanted her all to himself, at least for now. He turned a little on the recliner, getting comfortable next to her. He wrapped his arm around her and just looked at her. Taking her in once again. This time he was able to think some of the things he stopped himself from thinking, even hoping, before. He couldn’t rid himself of the smile on his face. He felt like he probably looked like he’d slept with a coathanger in his mouth and chuckled lightly at this thought. He could lay next to her forever, thinking things. About her, about them, about their possibilities. However he didn’t want to just think, he wanted to do. Sitting up a little he kept his arm around her shoulders. “So. Nana.” he gave her a quizzixal look, added a slight smirk so as not to scare her too much. “What say we get to know each other a bit better.” he suggested. He leaned over and picked his cigarette packet up. Grabbing the lighter and ashtray. He settled the ashtray on his lap and pulled a cigratee out, balancing it between his lips and flicking the lighter, the flame dancing infront of his face made him think of a lot of things, danger a little but mostly heat and as he noticed when he looked at her as he waited for her reaction, the way the flame danced in reflection in her eye, he couldn’t help but link the two together. The idea of her and heat brought a different topic into his head and he felt his cheeks flush suddenly. He wasn’t nervous in general anymore for sure but maybe a little for certain things. He was a lot more casual normally in such a situation, he would usually know that it was a one time, maybe two time thing. With her he never wanted that to be the case and he realised the flush was because he might be a little nervous about this being a long time thing, not in a bad way, in a first time kind of way. Maybe more so in that he was embarrassed that she would be his first serious, long term relationship. The first girl that wasn’t a temporary hook up, one night stand or friend with benefits. He didn’t want the moment to linger on his flushed cheeks too much and so he scrabbled to distract from it. “Ask me something.” he spoke quickly. “Anything you want to know about me?” he smiled at her as he offered her his cigarettes, not sure if she would want one.

Nana almost couldn’t believe they’d just kissed, and how wonderful it felt. She would have pinched herself, just to make sure the whole evening with Alfie hadn’t been just a dream, but it would seem very ridiculous and the thought made her smile a little. When she joined him on the recliner, she felt a little nervous that maybe he wouldn’t want it, maybe she was being too clingy? But the way he turned a little and wrapped an arm around her told her otherwise, and she felt both happy and relieved. Also his smile, his beautiful smile she just adored. And for the first time she realized, they both wore the same silly wide smile glued to their faces, reassuring her that they were in this together and that’s all Nana could have asked for. Resting her head on his chest, she cuddled against him a little and looked up at him, still smiling, while her fingers distractedly drew random patterns over his clothed chest. She felt extremely happy and safe there with him, both excited and at peace. She could lay next to him forever, and she knew she wanted to be in his life for as long as he let her. She thought about the past, and the future. It truly amazed her how she’d managed to date Takumi, who’d been her only boyfriend, for almost two years, yet felt nothing compared to all the feelings Alfie had given her in just one night. True, she’d only dated him because she thought she should, because it was right, and it was her biggest regret once it was over, but maybe she needed to go through it, so maybe she could tell the difference when she found the one for real? Because she was almost certain she did. She wanted a future with Alfie, she wanted everything with him and she’d face everything and everyone for it, even her dad. She hoped he’d accept her new husband, though, he was her dad after all and had always loved her. She knew everything would be alright in the end, but right now, she didn’t want her mind to be in the future, she wanted to focus on the present moment and enjoy it to the fullest. When he sat up a little, Nana sat with him, keeping their closeness, but the quizzical look he gave her had her furrowing her eyebrows a little, an amused smile upon her lips as she waited for him to speak. At his suggestion of getting to know each other a little better, Nana nodded, smiling a little more. “Sure, let’s do it!” The idea excited her, as she wanted to learn everything about him, she’d love to listen to all his stories, the good and the bad, and tell him all about herself in return. As she watched him lighting his cigarette, Nana couldn’t help but notice just how sexy he looked doing that… he had this bad boy look to him that fascinated her, but it was his gentle, attentive personality that captured her heart. And while she kept admiring him, she couldn’t help but notice a slight blush on his cheeks, wondering what he could possibly be thinking about now. However, his question brought her back from her thoughts, and she hummed for a moment, trying to think of a good question for him. “Tell me… one of your favourite memories.” She spoke softly, with a smile, but then added quickly. “Only if you want to, of course. And you can ask me anything you want as well.” The moment he offered her his cigarettes, Nana gave him a somewhat naughty smile and lifted her hand to steal the one he held between his lips, winking playfully afterwards. She took a drag and exhaled the smoke as sexily as possible, and then giggled a little.