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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years ago

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When the Weight Comes Down - 4

Warnings: non-consent sex (series); nothing for this chapter

This is dark! (biker) Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Series Synopsis: Your father’s a drunk, your mother a recluse, and you’re just another small town girl in Birch.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown

Note: Hope you’re having as much fun with this as I am. Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter Four: Twist My Arm

Culled and wooed, bitten, chewed It won't hurt if you don't move

💀💀💀💀

Your mother was awake when you got home but didn’t acknowledge you as she rinsed out your father’s empty beer cans and tossed them in the bin. Your father on the other hand snored in his recliner as the television continued to blare. You said nothing as you retreated to your room.

You set your alarm early and laid down in your old tee with the pink teddy bear on the front. You slept in spurts, jolting awake as your dream returned to the bar. With you trapped in the dim place and cornered by dark shadows. Your little digital clock roused you for good and you tiptoed to the bathroom.

You showered, dressed in a pair of jeans and a blouse with little frills along the neckline and sleeves beneath a sheer grey cardigan. You grabbed your boxy purse and shoved your wallet inside along with the pile of bills from the kitchen counter. Your mother was awake too but still silent as she ate a bowl of yogurt and granola. You left her like that.

The bank was mostly empty when you arrived. You went to the teller and paid a portion of each bill. You’d have to wait until your next check to cover the rest. Another call to the hydro company and hopes that you’d have hot water for the last half of the month.

You stopped at the diner for breakfast. You didn’t have the stomach for more than eggs and toast.Or the pockets. You had a tea and left a tip you’d regret. You were back on the street just after ten but had little desire to return home. Yet, staying in town was a prospect you weren’t fond of either.

You crossed the street and waved at Babs through the window as you passed the bakery. She smiled and looked back to her customer. You continued onto Lloyd’s and dipped inside. The man, Lu, you’d heard the girl call him, you were sure, sat at his counter with small glasses at the end of his nose and a book open.

“You again?” He remarked as he looked up.

“Hi,” You said softly.

He smiled and you quickly scurried between the aisles. You stopped before a shelf of notepads bound in leather. You weren’t sure what you were looking for; anything to keep your mind off of yourself; your family; Steve.

You couldn’t afford the large journal with its thick cover or the glass pens with the swirled handles. You opened a how-to guide on calligraphy and tried to calculate what you would be paid and what you owed. It might be a fun hobby.

You went to the counter and hesitated. The old man didn’t look up from his book but you didn’t know if he heard you as when you stepped closer, he flinched.

“Miss?” He blinked at you and marked his page.

“Do you… offer credit?” You asked shyly.

“You got any old books? I’ll exchange credits for anything you got.” He said. “As long as it’s intact.”

“Oh, really?’ You smiled. “Okay, thank you.”

“Your welcome,” He said warmly.

“Sorry, I don’t… I can’t buy anything today but I’ll be back,” You offered.

“No problem,” He assured you and picked his book back up. “You have a good day.”

You left and thought of the box of books beneath your bed. That old copy of Moby Dick you never finished could go and the harlequin romances you’d hoarded from the thrift shop. You hadn’t touched those since high school and now you hid them in shame.

Your mind floated away as your feet headed towards your house. The rumble of engines sounded from across the street but your mind was eons away. You were only brought back to earth by the sharp rev of a motor right beside you. You glanced to the curb, the tire pressed to it, and then its owner.

“Hey,” Steve revved again and drew up his bike parallel to the pavement. “You didn’t forget about our ride, did you?”

“It’s not noon,” You looked at your watch.

“Close enough.” He said. “We can go now.”

You peered up and down the sidewalk. Those who had been walking behind you had crossed to avoid the biker before you as others stood outside shop doors and watched nervously. You shrugged and shoved your hands in your jean pockets.

“I should go home first,” You said. “Tell my ma--”

“You don’t need to go all that way.” He turned off his bike and reached into his jacket. He pulled out his phone. “Give her a call and we’ll head out.”

You stared at his phone and chewed your bottom lip. You took it carefully and stared at the numbers on the screen. You dialed slowly and brought it up to your ear. You prayed she didn’t answer. Please be busy, please be busy.

“Hello?” Your mother’s voice chimed from the other end. You greeted her and told her it was you. “Why are you calling me?”

“I just wanted you to know I won’t be home for a while,” You looked at Steve. Better she didn’t know why though she’d figure it out soon enough. “I just didn’t want you worrying.”

“Okay,” She said tritely. “Bye.”

She hung up so sharply you were stunned as the line went dead. She was still mad at you. You handed Steve his phone back. You had hoped at least you could have told him she needed you home to help her with something but you hadn’t been on the call long enough for it to be a convincing lie.

“Did mommy say you could go?” He teased. You blanched and kicked your toe into the pavement.

“I’m not a child,” You whispered.

“Huh?” He said. “Sorry, I didn’t hear that.”

“I said,” You swallowed as you looked up. “I’m not a child.”

“I know,” He reached back and unbuckled the saddle bag. “Then act like it, doll.”

He flipped the leather flap up and nodded over his shoulder as he adjusted his perch on the bike. You grabbed the helmet and tried to recall how he had done up the strap the day before. You figured it out after a few tried but he grabbed your arm before you could climb on.

“If you’re gonna be my girl, you gotta start using your words,” He said. “But use them wisely, yeah?”

“I… I’m not your girl,” You struggled with him.

He chuckled and his hand flew up to your chin. He squeezed your jaw as he made you look at him.

“You know who I am? What this badge means?” He tapped his jacket with his other hand. “What I say, goes.”

You grabbed his wrist as you trembled.

“I don’t want to go,” You struggled with him. “Please.”

“If I have to get off this bike…” He warned. “You think anyone is gonna stop me?”

You gulped and thought back to the girl from the bookstore. She was braver than you and yet she hadn’t stopped Bucky last night. She had abided his errant hands and stolen kisses. You remembered her words. ‘Good luck’.

“Doll, I haven’t mistreated you, have I?” He let go. “I’ve been nice, so why don’t you get on and let’s head out.”

You nodded and he tilted his head. You cleared your throat and gave your ascent. He smirked and you grabbed his shoulder to hoist yourself over the small seat on the back of the bike. He reached back and pushed your knees against him. You wrapped your arms around him quickly and he turned the keys.

“You ever been to the city?” He asked as he rolled the bike out into the street. You clung tighter to him as the engine ripped through Birch and announced your departure.

💀

Your father had taken you to the city once as a child. You remembered it as gargantuan buildings and flashing lights. A beacon compared to Birch and its grim streets. The windy ride had left your cheeks numb and your thin cardigan did little to protect you. Steve pulled into an underground lot, the type you’d only ever seen on TV and he parked between two shining cars.

You got off and handed him your helmet. He hung both on the handle bar. He turned to you as you backed away but he caught you and drew you back.

“I didn’t get a kiss,” He pulled you close. He bent and you turned your head so he only kissed your cheek.

“I… Steve…”

“It’s okay to be nervous,” He raised his hand to cradle your face and make you look at him. “I’ll show you what to do.”

He pressed his lips to yours and you closed your eyes. His lips moved against yours and he poked you with his tongue until you opened your mouth. He hugged you tighter as he kissed you deeper and you weren’t sure what else to do but stand there. He parted gently.

“Just do what I do,” He purred and kissed you again. You tried to mimic him as best you could and he hummed before he drew away. “Mmm, like that.”

You were stunned. Shaking. He seemed pleased by it and turned you as he wrapped his arm around you. He led you through the lot, around the cars, and up a set of concrete steps. You found yourself in a large mall; you’d never been to one of those before.

“Oh,” You looked around at the shop windows. “Oh.”

Your purse felt even lighter and held back a cringe. You let him guide you as you shuffled over the tiled floor. He stopped you by a cushioned bench and faced you.

“Why don’t you have a look around?” He said. “I’ve got something to deal with but I’ll find you.”

Your eyes rounded and you frowned at the glowing monikers and glaring sale signs.

“I don’t-- I’ll get lost,” You said.

“It’s fine, you won’t,” He assured you. “Just stay inside. There are maps if you need them. A directory just around the corner.”

“Okay,” You knew there was no arguing with him. “Will you be long?”

“Shouldn’t be,” He rubbed your arm. “You’ll be okay, doll.”

He kissed you again, lighter this time. He reluctantly left you and when he disappeared around the corner you dared to look around. Other shoppers passed by without regard, as if you were invisible. You were used to that.

After a lot of hesitation, you found your way into a clothing shop and glanced around at the hangers. You checked a tag on a shirt you liked and gasped. You peeked over at the employee who had offered to help you but she seemed uninterested now. You quickly left and followed the smell of cinnamon to the food court.

You sat at a table hidden behind a fake fern and placed your purse on it. You pulled out your wallet and counted what was left in your wallet. You doubted you could afford a soda here. You packed it back up and dropped the bag on your lap as you leaned your elbow on the table. You read the little news bumper running across a screen mounted beside a Chinese food outlet.

You watched the clock in the corner; half an hour dragged by. You were surprised as Steve sat across from you and you perked up from your daze. He had a small white bag that he slid over to you. You stared at him over it.

“Go on,” He said.

“You didn’t have to--”

“Just open it.” He ordered.

You pursed your lips and looked inside the bag. You lifted the small box out of it. You carefully slid the lid off and a phone, much like his own, sat inside.

“It’s already set up,” He said. “It’s all yours.”

“I…” You blinked at the screen. “I can’t… afford--”

“I’ll take care of you,” He crossed his arms over the table. “Doll, I know you’re smart. You understand. I want to take care of you. Like your ma and pa never did. Don’t you want someone?”

You lowered your eyes and picked at the loose stitches that held the handle of your purse in place. You shrugged and your leg jiggled under the table.

“There’s a case, too,” He said. “But if you want a different one, we can look around.”

You stared at your old blouse, your faded jeans, the small bleach stain by the knee. You felt completely out of place. A matchstick girl.

“I can’t--”

“I know what it is. You been taking care of them so long you can’t even think of someone doing the same for you.” He said. “You don’t gotta take care of them forever, doll.”

“I do though,” You countered as you looked up. “If I don’t--”

“They don’t know what they got,” Steve urged. “You’re too good to them.”

“You don’t know,” You frowned. “You can’t.”

“Are you that worried about them?” He asked. “You know, if you left, they’d find their way. They’re adults, like you, right?”

“No, no, my ma, she can’t leave the house and my pa…” You clamped your lips shut, embarrassed. “I don’t wanna talk about them anymore.”

“Well, I just think you should be as good to yourself as you are to them.” He said. “But I’ll be happy if you just let me be good to you.”

You chewed your lip and looked down at the phone. You’d never had anything like it before. You never had anyone to call anyway. You carefully reached into the bag and pulled out the other slender box; a phone case with a daisy on it, like the dress you’d worn the night before. You glanced up at Steve and he raised a brow.

“It’s up to you, doll,” He lowered his voice as he leaned over the table. “How good I am to you.”

#Steve Rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #fic #dark fic #when the weight comes down #series #limited series #au #dark!fic #biker!steve rogers #biker au #mcu #marvel #captain america

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keelywolfe · 4 years ago

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FIC: Welcome to Backwater ch.17 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Look, getting into the woods wasn't the difficult part and neither was getting out. Dealing with the aftermath? Yeah, let's do that.

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Read ‘Law and Order’ on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

When Stretch woke up the next day, he hardly felt like he’d slept at all, every bone in his body aching and the inside of his skull felt like a dull and muzzy gray.

No surprise there, not really, he hadn’t exactly snoozed peacefully. Probably would’ve been more concerned if he’d had; somehow, having troublesome nightmares after almost getting eaten by horrifying eldritch beings seemed like the healthier option than sleeping like a baby. A few mental scars after something like that seemed more than reasonable.

Wasn’t time for a trip to a head shrinker right now, though, he had a job to do and he was gonna do it. So he put the mental brakes on dealing with everything that happened the day before--

(and holy shit, so much happened, how did he even start processing all this shit, how--)

--and crawled out of bed. He pulled on his last pair of clean clothes, made a mental note to beg Red for the use of his washing machine, and stumbled downstairs to open the shop with the dog at his heels.

Stretch winced away from the bright morning sunshine that streamed in when he pulled the cord to raise the shades, wishing deeply for a cup of coffee, even one of his brother’s that always managed to taste sort of like dirt and rancid tree bark had a coffee bean baby.

Red had a coffee maker in the kitchen, but he didn’t want to risk waking him up sneaking into his apartment. He told himself it wasn’t because of last night’s unintentional adventure, nope, he definitely wasn’t trying to keep from talking about it with Red as long as possible. A long, furious chat about meeting Miss Bone Cruncher U.S.A. and Smaug's undead cousin were the last thing he wanted right now.

Maybe he could head back over to Miss Maggie’s this afternoon and see if she had a cheap coffee maker he could keep behind the counter. Had to be at least one old Mr. Coffee buried in all that junk. But something about going back into the thrift shop made him uneasy and he shook it away, focusing on getting the store opened up.

Mutt was underfoot the entire time, nearly tripping him more than once, and maybe Stretch should have rethought taking in this dog because it was starting to look like it brought a daily murder attempt along with him like a special toy surprise. Snagging a can of dog food from the shelf and dumping it into the plastic bowl Red scrounged from somewhere was less about providing a nutritious meal and more self-defense. Once Mutt was fed and snoozing, though, it was easier to get into the swing of things.

Stretch was buried in the inventory book, contemplating whether to merge the ‘monthly crotch rags’ and ‘cooter plugs’ into one listing to make them slightly easier to find, when the bell ringing over the door made him look up. His greeting faltered when he saw the Sheriff stalk in. Hat nearly brushing the top of the door, still wearing those mirrored aviator sunglasses, and his heavy cowboy boots clomping on the wooden floor as he came directly to the front counter and propped both ham-sized fists on his broad hips.

“Morning!” Buford boomed out cheerfully. A greeting that bright didn’t make it seem like he was here in an official capacity, hey, guess even the fuzz needed to buy toilet paper. It still took a minute for the knee-jerk dread at the sight of that uniform that settled in Stretch’s non-existent stomach to fade.

Buford wasn’t like the cops back in Ebott, Stretch told himself, this was Backwater. If the town was a little weird and had ghosts and sentient scarecrows, plus kept horrible creatures out in the woods with plagues dripping from the needle-sharp teeth they used to eat the souls of the unwary, then at least the Humans here were generally very nice.

Besides, if Buford were meanspirited today, he could always tattle to Granny Collemore when she came in for her next toilet paper run.

Stretch swallowed hard and tried a couple words before finally managing a simple, “morning.”

From Buford’s broad grin, a person would have thought Stretch offered some philosophizing to rival Socrates. “Morning, yes, it is at that.”

Stretch nodded. His relief at that smile made him weak, his skull bobbling unsteadily on his cervical vertebrae like a dashboard ornament. “can i help you find something?

“Naw, came by to see how you were doing.” Buford hitched his pants up, settling his saucer-sized belt buckle under the soft push of his belly. Reflected in the mirror of his sunglasses was the space behind the counter, Stretch and the register and the small row of cleaning supplies, distorted like the other side of the looking glass and he did not want to be thinking about other Universes right now. "Saw ya had a little trouble out in the woods.”

Stretch faltered, briefly speechless. His tongue felt stuck to the roof of his mouth, too dry as he fumbled out, “wha…how did you…?”

"Eh, a lawman’s gotta know what's going on in his town,” Buford leaned down and poked through one of the little wooden half-barrels filled with penny candy that lined the front of the counter. He picked one of the sour balls, unwrapping the shiny green foil and popping the small candy into his mouth to tuck into the round of his cheek. “Sent a little help your way when I saw what was going on, glad to see he got there in time." Buford shook his head sadly, “Nasty things out there in the woods this time of year and that’s the truth.”

“he…he did,” Stretch said, helplessly. No point in lying about it, but how could Buford possibly know? And he’d sent that strange bone dragon creature to help him, but how could he have sent a warning? The idea of that skeletal creature fumbling with a cell phone in its claws was nearly ridiculous enough to pry a hysterical giggle from Stretch’s clotted throat. Were there cameras in the woods, was the creature summoned from a portal in Buford’s basement? So many hows and wheres and whys, there were questions piling on top of questions, cluttering up Stretch’s already overstuffed mind, but only one managed to bubble through to the tarry surface. More demanding than he’d meant, Stretch asked, “how did you know?”

Buford stood up straight, broad shoulders squaring. The change in posture seemed to bring on a transformation, from a Rosco P. Coltrane to a more of a Rick Grimes. From the top of his hat to the golden star on his chest, and his perfectly ironed uniform leant him an aura of competence. It still put him as shorter than Stretch, but somehow made him bigger than life. There was no bumbling, jovial small-town sheriff here, this was a lawman, and there wasn’t so much as a hint of a smile as he said, "I see everything, son." And tipped down those mirrored sunglasses.

In the eyes that lay beneath them were pupil-less, the sockets filled with orbs that were the milky-white of severe cataracts, crisscrossed with thin, fleshy threads like cobwebs.

Stretch barely had time to register what he was seeing before Buford settled his sunglasses back in place. He swallowed hard against the dryness in his throat, strange thoughts of demons and bargains with the devil like their own trash tornado in the back of his mind. "are you…here for something, then?"

Buford only chuckled and the sour ball clacked against his teeth as he rolled it to the other side of his mouth. "Just to check on ya. You might be a city boy, but I’ve taken a liking to you, son, and I ain’t the only one. People in Backwater take care of our own.” There was a strange solemnness to those words, almost a pact, then Buford’s mouth quirked up on one side beneath his bushy mustache. “Though I might as well help myself to a Pepsi-Cola while I'm here." He leaned in, conspiratorially, and it was easier than Stretch thought it might be to keep himself from leaning away. Buford smelled faintly of cherries and tobacco, and his teeth were a clean, even white. "Don't tell the missus, she don't like me having too much caffeine."

Stretch nodded and said in his own whisper, "tell her what?"

Buford roared a laugh and grabbed his hat to slap it against his knee, hooting out, "That's the spirit!” He settled his hat back on his mussed hair and took a soda from the cooler, tossing a buck on the counter as he called back, “Take care, son."

��i will,” Stretch said, softly, but it was only for the tinkling bell above the door as Buford strolled back out.

He was still standing at the counter, the dog snoozing at his feet, fidgeting with the pen on the counter and not writing a single damn thing when the door opened again. Stretch could only stare back at the intense crimson eye lights that latched onto his own as Edge walked through the front door and for once, those gorgeous hips were the furthest thing from his mind.

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #welcome to backwater

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years ago

Note

for monster march, ghost + indruck + nsfw?

Here you go! I borrowed some ideas we’ve tossed around on the Discord

A sketchbook, new pens, a Hershey bar, and a bag of jumbo marshmallows. A small but lively fire. And a new, huge, fuzzy sleeping bag waiting for him in the tent.

Not a bad camping set up for a city-boy art goth (as Barclay likes to call him).

Indrid sticks another marshmallow on the fork, roasting it until it’s deep brown, the smell of burning sugar curling through the air and settling in his hair. He’s never liked Graham Crackers, so he jams a square of chocolate into the molten center of the marshmallow and shoves the entire thing into his mouth.

Kepler is small. Barclay hadn’t been kidding about that. He’d also been right that one of the two tattoo shops in town was willing to hire Indrid after looking through photos of his work and confirming he completed his apprenticeship.

He’s been living in the Eastwoods campground in the Monongahela National Forest while he apartment hunts, and the tattoos he’s done so far netted him enough cash to buy his luxurious new sleeping bag. He might be waiting on a place for some time, so he may as well camp in style.

Three “s’mores” later, the moon is up and the night is chilly enough that he wants his sweatshirt. Ducking into the tent, he can’t find it on his pillow, where he swears he left it this morning. Maybe he accidentally buried it getting dressed.

A splashhiss interrupts his rummaging. Scrambling from the tent, he discovers his fire is now a pile of soaked ashes and logs being angrily stirred by a thick piece of kindling.

“Excuse me, but what the fuck?”

A man in a ranger uniform appears, the stick falling through his hand as he gives Indrid a disapproving stare.

“Look here, I know you’re new here, maybe to campin entirely. But you can’t just leave a fire burnin when you go to bed.” He doesn’t sound mad, more like he’s a disappointed big brother scolding his sibling.

“I wasn’t-”

“And all this” he gestures to the food on the table, “has gotta go in the bear box. Black bears are real good foragers and we don’t want ‘em comin’ into camp and gettin to comfy around humans.”

“Of course, but-”

“You didn’t take any food into the tent, right? Wouldn’t want somethin to decide to join you ‘cause it smelled a snack.”

Indrid pinches the bridge of his nose, “I am aware of all of these rules, and plan to follow them. Once I actually go to bed instead of ducking into the tent for my sweater. But since my evening appears to be over…” he grabs the marshmallows, roasting fork, and chocolate, carries them to the bear box, and slams it closed.

When he whirls back around, the ghost is still there, chagrined.

“Uh, sorry. I kinda jumpy about people leavin fires alone.” In the lantern light, his smile is as charming as his drawl. His stocky, bearish shape and unassumingly handsome face command Indrid’s focus, which is why his revelation comes so quickly.

“You...there’s a statue of you at the visitor center. Which makes you, ah, damn it what was the name-”

“Duck. Duck Newton. They put my legal name on there, even though Juno tried to stop ‘em. But my name’s Duck.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Duck. I’m Indrid.”

“Nice to meet you too. Uh, sorry for ruinin your campfire, looks like you were havin a nice time.”

“It’s alright. I suppose I’m grateful there’s someone haunting the campsites to keep them in order.”

“You’re takin me bein’ a ghost surprisingly well.”

“I’ve always been interested in strange things, to the point that I earned the nickname ‘mothman’ in high school.”

“Huh” Duck watches him a moment, then shrugs, “well, guess I better be goin’. Have a nice night, mothman.”

With that, he’s gone.

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

“Hello again.” Indrid says as the campfire smoke curls around a human form, “Doing your rounds?”

“More or less. I like my job, and ain’t about to give it up just because I beefed it and turned into a ghost.” A creak as Duck joins him on the picnic bench. When he materializes, he floats slightly above the worn wood, watching Indrid draw.

“That’s incredible, it’s so realistic it’s like you pressed the leaves into the pages instead of colored them.”

“Thank you.” adds depth to the leaf, “you know, I looked at the statue again today. It hardly does you justice.”

From this close, he can see a blush spread up semi-opaque cheeks. Then he starts fading.

“Oh, ah, I’m sorry. I was aiming for a benign compliment, not to make you uncomfortable.”

“S’alright, just surprised me. Not many folks wanna flirt with a dead guy.”

“I’m more interested in what the ‘dead guy’ wants.” Indrid smiles, hoping to convey he would submit to spectral touches as readily as he’d keep talking.

Duck floats closer, “Kinda curious about your other drawin’s.”

Indrid turns the sketchbook back to the beginning, “they’re half portfolio and half travelogue. Here” he holds up a fade, detached piece of paper, covered by an Morpho Butterfly that looks ready to fly away, “this is the first tattoo I ever designed.”

“Damn. Guessin’ that means you did this one” he touches the Rosy Maple Moth on Indrid’s forearm (or tries to). It’s chilly, but not in the way Indrid feared. More like taking a cool shower on a sweltering day.

“I did. Here, it gave me an idea for my first series of flash tattoos…”

They go over the illustrations page by page. Slowly, Indrid weaves in questions to Duck who, instead of recoiling from discussion of his mortal life, tells him rambling stories about the woods and which places serve the best food in town.

The conversation doesn’t end until the fire goes out on it’s own, Duck standing automatically, grabbing a water bottle, swearing, and then disappearing so he can pick the bottle up.

“Do you think that’s part of why you’re still here? Some unfinished business having to do with the woods?”

“Nah.” The water bottle thunks back on the table as Duck reappears, “I tried to live a normal life, improve the world the way I knew how, make some kind of difference to this town. Then I had to go play the goddamn hero.”

“I would say saving two dozen people from a forest fire makes a considerable difference in the world.”

A sad huff of a laugh, “Yeah, guess you’re right. Just...I meant to do somethin’ with my life, not my death, even if it was a small somethin’, and the closest thing I got to unfinished business is a model ship.”

“I...what?”

“It was four-masted and everything! I had Leo order it in special and everything and then I never, I never got to-” He tilts his head up, sniffs once, “never mind. I better let you get to sleep.”

By the time Indrid calls “goodnight,” the ghost is gone.

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

“Please tell me you’re gettin a place soon so you stop eatin everythin outta a can?” Leo bags the last of groceries.

“No such luck. Ah well, there are worse things than canned soup and Pop-Tarts.”

“At least let Barclay feed you, half the point of havin a friend who can cook is to let ‘em do it for you. You need stamps or anything?”

“N-” A box behind the counter catches his eye. It’s at an odd angle, as if whoever put it there is hoping no one will see it. Indrid can just make out an illustration of a four-masted ship.

“Is that for sale?”

Leo looks where he’s pointing, and for a moment something in his gruff affability wavers. Then he nods, “Yeah, suppose it is.”

“Can you ring it up for me?” Indrid nearly bounces on his toes when Leo sets the box on the counter and confirms his hunch.

The older man sets a gentle hand on the cardboard, sliding it across to Indrid, “Don’t worry about that, kid. It’s yours.”

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

“Duck?” Indrid turns in a circle by the picnic table, “Duck, I have something for you!”

He saw the ranger briefly last night, but he didn’t hang around. Gingerly, he sets the box on the table, tearing off a piece of sketch paper to write a note in case the ghost stops by while he’s asleep.

“Holy fuck.” Duck floats across the table from him, “‘Drid, where did, how did--why?”

“Leo still had it. As for why I, ah, it seemed like you still wanted it. If you can douse a fire and over my camp stove, I figure you can build a model ship.”

Duck disappears and Indrid’s heart sinks; that must have been too much. Then he’s squished in an invisible, wonderful bear hug.

“Thanks, ‘Drid.”

From then on, Duck spends every night at his campsite, building the ship while Indrid draws, reads, or talks with him. The model lives in the safest corner of the tent during the day.

“I mean, I’m up durin the day too, but I scared a few folks on accident and I don’t want people avoid the forest because of me.”

Indrid also learns that Duck is stuck within a certain radius of where he died, and that his attempts to talk with Juno when she was in his part of the woods only lead to his friend thinking she was hallucinating and Duck feeling miserable for three solid days. Indrid offers to act as messenger and invite Duck’s friends (many of whom have, by chance and by proximity to Barclay, become his friends) to the campsite to see him. The ranger is quiet for some time after that offer.

“Not yet. Maybe someday, but not yet. I, it ain’t even been a year, ‘Drid. I think a lot of ‘em are still hurtin. And, and maybe this is selfish but...I ain’t ready to deal with them findin’ out I aint fully gone. It’d be so much all at once.”

Indrid doesn’t bring it up again. More than once, when Aubrey tells a story about Duck only for her eyes to sadden halfway through, or when he sees Juno looking at Duck’s statue a little too long, he struggles to keep his promise.

A cold front blows into town and, since he’s still in the tent, he pops into Kepler Thrift N Find in search of an extra sweatshirt. Tucked in between one reading “Ranchos” and one with a picture of Garfield is a soft, well-loved hoodie with “Monongahela National Forest” on the front. He buys it and wears it home, the fact it’s loose in the arms making it even easier to tuck in his hands when he gets cold.

He stops by the visitor center out of habit, checking out the new plush wild animals. There are also hints of Duck here and there; his name on displays, his face in group photos. As he contemplates a small, squishy black bear, he notices Juno looking at him more than usual.

“Hello again” he sets the bear on the counter.

“Howdy. This all?

“Yes, please. Are you alright? You look, ah, tired.”

“Yep. Or, uh, just noticed that sweatshirt. It was one that got made special for staff a few years ago.”

Indrid fidgets with the cat-bitten drawstring, “It was Duck’s, wasn’t it?”

“Uh huh. He put that patch on the sleeve. Guess it startled me to see it on someone else.”

“I understand.”

“Knew him since we were kids. Hell, he’s my daughter’s godfather. Still don’t feel right, bein’ here without him.”

Indrid pushes the bear towards her and she pets it.

“What was he like?”

In the empty visitor center, Juno tells him. In her stories are echos of every conversation he’s ever had with anyone who knew Duck. When it’s time to close up, she asks if she can hug him, and thanks him for listening to her.

“Guess you weren’t kiddin about wanting to sleep with a bear” Duck teases as Indrid sets his new purchase inside the tent. Indrid whaps at him, arm going through his torso. The ranger floats nearby as Indrid heats up ravioli and opens a can of Mountain Dew. Indrid tells him about the conversation with Juno.

“Huh, guess that is my old one. Glad someone is gettin some use outta it. And it looks good on you.”

Indrid sets down his bowl, “We talked a lot, Duck. And it made me think about what you said to me one of the night after we met. You said you wanted a chance to make the world, the town, a little better. Everyone I’ve talked to, and I mean every one, has a story about you. How you helped them, how Kepler is worse off with you gone. You did so much, even with your time cut short. I, I wanted you to know that.”

The ghost looks away, “I wasn’t done tryin to help.”

“You still aren’t. You do what you can to keep the forest and the visitors safe. And you, you’ve made my life immeasurably better Duck. Seeing you is the best part of my day and I think I’m falling--ah, that is, you’re not done making a difference.”

Duck hasn’t moved since Indrid started talking about his feelings. When Indrid tries to meet his eyes, he disappears. Hurried, he reaches out to offer a reassuring touch and gets only air.

“Duck?”

Nothing, even after he calls his name three more times.

He slumps onto the bench, “well, fuck me I guess.”

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

This is a terrible idea. But it’s his last, and therefore his best.

Indrid even asked Barclay’s boyfriend, Joseph, if anything in his impressive library of the paranormal advised the reader on dealing with upset ghosts. A few did, always from the perspective of trying to get the specter to go away. They said nothing about what to do if your upset ghost was missing, leaving an ache in your heart you didn’t know you were capable of feeling.

Instead, after a week of silence, Indrid changes tactics: if he can’t coax Duck back, maybe he can annoy him into appearing.

Tonight, he finishes dinner and cleans his dishes, puts the bulk of the food in the bear box, and then tears open a bag of chips, scattering them across the table. He eats one, then leaves the open bag laying amongst the potato shards.

Next, he dumps his remaining water on the fire, which takes it down to embers but does not extinguish it. When none of that gets a reaction, he decides to narrate.

“Hmm, that should be fine, it’s not that dry and I don’t think sparks can go over the edge.”

“Should I leave these juice pouches out? Yes, I think I should, in case I get thirsty at night. Maybe I’ll take one into the tent, just to be safe.”

He already feels silly and like no one is listening, and so he escalates.

“I know I shouldn’t leave food out for the wildlife, but since there’s no handsome, ghostly ranger here to punish me for my transgressions, I am just going to leave some nuts out for the raccoons. I like raccoons. They deserve nice things. Hell, how about I just leave them a whole buffet since no one is stopping me!”

All he gets in reply are the few bugs awake this early in the spring and the crack of brush as a small mammal runs away from the weird bipedal thing yelling at his camp fire. He doesn’t leave out food for the raccoons; he climbs into his tent in a huff. What a bad idea, to think this of all things would bring Duck back to him. He’s being childish and bratty and selfish; Duck doesn’t deserve that, no more than he owes Indrid his company.

He changes into his pajamas pants and sleep shirt, intending to go back out to make the site safe and tidy. Except.

Except something just opened the bear box. The chip bag crinkles and the fire hisses out a minute later. He should be running outside to apologize, but his mind has simultaneously registered the full darkness of the night , the possibility that Duck is not the only paranormal thing in these woods, and the fact the nearest other campers are on the other side of the campground, meaning he is very, very alone.

The zipper on the tent moves, the flap falling open so his lantern shines on nothing but April air.

“Duck? Please say that’s you.”

A low chuckle, “It’s me, ‘Drid.” The fly zips shut, “mighty peeved about that trick you pulled.”

“I’m, I’m sorry. I missed you, but that was a bad way to communicate that.” He can’t see him, and the lantern only picks up the odd shift of sleeping bag or tent floor, so Indrid’s eyes’ dart about trying to pinpoint him.

“Oh, you communicated plenty, sugar. Like what you want a certain, uh, ghostly ranger to do to you.”

“Oh god” he winces, “please, forget I said that, it’s humiliating.”

“Not all that surprisin, truth be told. I mean, you and I flirted now and then. And you told me enough about yourself for me to suspect that you’re a kinky little weirdo who’s dyin to get fucked by a ghost.”

“I, I feel I should point out that I only want to fuck one ghost. You. I want to fuck you and that means fucking a ghoOOOst.” He gasps as cold lips press into his neck.

“I can make that happen, darlin, all you gotta do is say it. You were a pain in the neck earlier, so now I expect you to be real polite and use your words.” Duck’s voice has never been like this before, rough and possessive yet still, under all of it, the same warmth draws Indrid in like a flame.

“I want you, Duck.”

A bite to his ear, strong arms wrapping around his waist from behind him, “Want me to do what?”

“Fuck me” this is like every wet dream he had as a teenager, the supernatural being coming for a fellow outsider.

That gets him a tender kiss on the cheek, “That’s better. Though, if I’m rememberin correctly, word you used was punish.”

Indrid yelps as Duck turns and shoves him to lay across his lap, kicks his legs out in surprise when his waistband slides down to his upper thighs.

“Yesss” he wiggles his ass as Duck palms it, “yes, Duck, pleaseAHgod” the first strike stings, and Duck doesn’t let him recover before delivering five more, three to each side. His cock perks up at the pain. Stranger still, because Duck is invisible, all Indrid has to do is tilt his head to watch it harden and twitch with each slap.

Twenty strikes later Duck pauses, hand rubbing soothing, cool circles on the burning skin, “Learned your lesson?”

“Mmhmm.” Indrid presses an awkward kiss to Duck’s knee.

“Glad to hear it.” Duck hauls him up onto his knees, slides a hand under his shirt and up his chest, “I’m rarin’ to feel more of you--holy fuck”

“AH!” Indrid arches as Duck toys with his left nipple piercing, his other hand quickly finding the right.

“God, fuck, you’re fuckin hot, if I were alive I woulda taken you home first time I saw you.” Messy kisses cover his neck as Duck tugs the piercings.

“Gaahnnyes, that’s, that’s very flattering.”

“Ain’t flattery, sugar, it’s the truth. Never could turn down some skinny punk with piercin’s and messy hair, not when I was a teen burnout hidin in the woods and sure as hell not now.” He moves Indrid onto his back, rucking up his shirt as his legs twist in his half-down pants. The ranger cups his face, and Indrid is positive he’s meeting his eyes, “tell me what you want sugar, tell me so I can treat you right.”

“Marks, I want marks anywhere you’ll give them.”

A growl from above him, then lips smashing into his, drinking him in before continuing down his throat, biting and sucking hard enough that he cries out every time. Duck pauses, teasing his nipples with his tongue as he rakes his nails up his sides. He sits up and for a horrible moment Indrid loses him. Then with glee he watches five red marks drag down his chest. He moans, rolling his hips and discovering just how closer Duck’s clothed cock is to his own. The contact only feeds the rangers eagerness, and Indrid is tosses and turns as he sucks, bites, and scratches, laying claim to the illustrated expanse of his body.

“More, please, god that all feels so good.”

“Don’t worry darlin, still got plenty of you to mark up, but we’re gonna do somethin else while I do.” He eases Indrid onto his stomach, slaps his ass fondly, “don’t go nowhere.”

Indrid’s duffel bag unzips, clothes and pens moved aside until a bottle of lube hovers in the air. The tube compresses and drips coat the rough outline of fingers. When the two digits press into him he sighs, eyes closing as he melts under Ducks watchful eyes.

“That’s it ‘Drid, relax for me. Got well over a year of horny to work out, so this cute ass needs to be ready to take it.”

Indrid pushes his hips back in reply, taking as far as the fingers will go and whimpering excitedly when he presses in the tip of the third. Duck works that one more carefully, kissing Indrid’s face and shoulders as he whispers about how good he is, how much he’s wanted this.

“I want it too so for, for goodness sake please fuck me soon or I’ll leave my entire cooler out for the bears.”

“Only one bear in this campsite tonight darlin.” Duck laves his tongue down the base of his spine, bites down hard on his ass. Indrid’s still moaning from the pain when his cock pushes in.

“Fuuuckme that’s good. Shoulda snuck into your tent sooner, sugar, made you a fuckin cocksleeve you feel so fuckin good.”

“Ohgod” is all Indrid, voice muffled by the sleeping bag he’s biting, manages before Duck adjusts them so Indrid is on his knees. The ranger isn’t gentle, pounds into him like he’s nothing but a warm hole and chuckles whenever Indrid moans.

“H-handprints, Duck, want hand prints GAHyesyesyes” he struggles to move in time with the ghost as the air fills with ear-splitting slaps. He’s so close, the pain and the sensation of phantom fingers claiming his body making his body beg for release. When he slides a hand down to jerk himself off, the arm twists up and stays trapped against his back.

“You wanna cum, you know what to do.”

He blinks away the ecstatic tears, words raw in his throat, “Please let me cum, Duck. I want to, need to cum while you fuck me pleaseplease-” he cuts off into whine as the ghost works his cock hard, all the while jamming into him hard enough that the smooth fabric of the sleeping bag burns his knees. When he cums it’s with a weak cry of Duck’s name, which is swallowed up by hungry lips as Duck kisses him over and over, repeating Indrid’s name like an incantation as he pumps his hips and cums, pulling out as he does so it splatters on the reddened patches of his ass.

A final kiss to the top of his head, and then there’s no contact between them and the zipper is moving.

“Oh no you don’t” Indrid scrambles, sweaty and exhausted, between the tent fly and the invisible man somewhere in front of him, “for goodness sake, Duck, I thought you liked me enough to at least let me fall asleep before you ran.”

The ranger finally appears, hair a mess and cheeks noticeably pink, “‘Drid, all that was amazing, but it’s all I can give you. I, I can’t...you said you were fallin for me and I can’t give you that.”

Indrid cocks his head, “Why not?”

“Because I’m a fuckin ghost, ‘Drid! You deserve to be with a livin’ fella, you deserve someone who can be a real part of your life.”

He crosses his arms, “Duck, you are a real part of my life. Honestly, what part of all the nights we spent together, all the ways we take care of each other, all of this” he points at the rumpled sleeping bag, “suggests otherwise?”

The ghost doesn’t speak, simply hugs himself (or tries to).

“If this is too much, if I’m offering something you do not want, then please tell me. But if this is you thinking that some paranormal quirks keep you from being a worthy partner for me, kindly think again.”

Duck disappears and Indrid is gearing up to try and tackle a supernatural entity when a familiar face buries itself in the crook of his neck. The ghost clings to him, and Indrid clings right back.

“You really wanna give it a go?”

“More than anything.”

Duck lifts his head so their cheeks rest together, “Then fuck it. Let’s see what happens.”

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

Indrid finishes hooking up his lightly used Winnebago, AKA his solution to the lack of available apartments. He’s in a different section of Eastwoods, but he’s happy with his new spot. He opens one of his few boxes, gently lifts the completed model ship into a place of honor, and waits, humming happily, for an unseen hand to knock on his door.

#indruck #monster march #indrid cold/duck newton #reader request #ghost au

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jaqdawks · 3 years ago

Text

I wrote a little short story thing, where these two go shopping lol

Gonna post it cuz why not

Word count - 2308

Trigger Warnings - Mentions to doomsday cult branding and a barely avoided panic attack

Béla pulled up by the bus, right around where Rameir stood in line. He rolled his window down and pointed at him. “Get in loser, we’re going shopping.”

Rameir obliged, glad to have any reason to postpone going home.

The inside of the car was average, other than the steering wheel being on the right hand side of the car.

“Don’t see that every day,” Rameir mused as he got in the back seat.

“Huh?”

“The wheel.”

Béla glanced back at him and then his steering wheel. “Oh, yeah. My mom was pretty determined to keep her old car when she moved from Europe.”

“And she’s giving it to you now?”

Béla shrugged. “It’s old. Anyways, I don’t have anything that’s actually warm enough to keep up with winter.” As the bus started, Béla got around it to pass it. He continued, “So we’re going to the mall.”

“And how come you’re taking me with you?”

Béla glanced at him through the rear view mirror. “I’ve been wanting to get you something decent in your wardrobe for ages.”

Rameir frowned. “I don’t have any money with me.”

“Don’t worry, shit’s on sale right now, it’ll be fine. If you really feel bad about it, we can go by some thrift stores.”

Rameir sat back and shut up for the rest of the drive. He wondered what his parents would think. He called them, but they didn’t pick up. He texted them, but his dad had a rule about calling over texting.

“Got a curfew?” Béla chimed in.

“I’ve never really stayed out before, so my parents never established one.”

“Oof. Okay, we’ll get you home by. . . How far out do you live again?”

“Almost an hour out of town.”

“Fuck,” Béla muttered, “Okay, well it’s a Friday so worst case scenario you can spend the night.”

Béla pulled into the mall’s parking lot and got a space near the entrance. Rameir hesitantly stepped out, leaving his backpack behind.

“You look nervous,” Béla commented.

“I’ve never really been in a mall.”

“Holy shit you are sheltered,” Béla whistled, “This was a good idea. I should have done this sooner.”

Rameir followed him into the building. That smell of money, the kind that’s been all around and smells more like people’s hands than paper, it was as if it hit him in the face when he walked in. Bright displays of makeup and skincare products lined the shelves, Rameir looked over to Béla in confusion.

“This is just their cosmetics floor.”

“There’s several floors?”

Béla responded as if that was obvious, “Yeah, Nordstrom is like, rich as fuck. Anyways this is just one of the convenient entrances, let’s go.”

He led Rameir through the store. Rameir felt a breath of relief when they stepped into the main part of the mall and escaped the white tiles and white floors and fluorescent lights of Nordstrom. Rameir looked out at all the shops, randomly placed indoor benches, and clusters of people walking by.

Béla raised an eyebrow at Rameir’s stare. “Jesus Christ, you really haven’t been in a mall before, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“I should have brought reinforcements,” Béla said under his breath, “C’mon, let’s start at Aéropostale.”

Rameir followed awkwardly behind him, until Béla got fed up with his non-confrontation and backpedaled to walk next to him. Rameir kept his head down as Béla tried to start a conversation with him multiple times.

It wasn’t as long of a walk as Rameir could have hoped.

As they entered the store, a cashier greeted them from behind the counter. The store was mostly empty, other than the occasional teen around their age group hidden behind wracks of clothes.

Béla started towards the back, dragging Rameir along.

They stopped at a table with folds of various shirts on it, and some mannequins behind it. “So, what exactly do you like? And if it’s anything close to what you already wear, I’m gonna invalidate your opinion.”

Rameir looked over the shirts. He hesitantly picked up one with a Polaroid logo on it, and Béla shook his head. “That's extra small. Hold on.” Béla’s hands reached around the back of his collar and flipped over the tag on his shirt. “Okay, medium, right?”

Rameir felt goosebumps prickling up his back.“I guess.”

Béla took the shirt and put it back on the pile, then flipped through it and picked up a different one that was a bit bigger. “Here.”

Rameir took it reluctantly. He stared at the shirts, not quite considering them.

“You look like a deer in headlights.”

“Sorry.”

“You’re not really in your element here, huh?”

“No.”

Béla rested his hand on his hip. “Do you need help picking things out?”

“I think so.”

“Okay, this’ll be fun,” Béla grinned. He picked up a few shirts, some striped, some plain, some with pictures or designs on them. Some he put down after considering them for a minute, some he handed over to Rameir. By the end, they’d picked out four shirts on the sale wrack and one jacket that Rameir thought looked cool.

“Okay, now what?” Rameir asked once they both decided they’d found enough for this store.

Béla motioned to the changing rooms. “Well, go try them on.”

Rameir froze. “What?”

“It’d be a waste if we bought all this stuff and it turned out it doesn’t fit you.”

“I don’t know, I don’t really like, y’know, changing in public.”

“You’ll be alone, no ones gonna see you dude.”

Rameir tensed his fists. “Are you sure?”

“Go ahead. The doors even lock from the inside.” He gave Rameir a gentle push in their direction. “I’m gonna look around for myself for a second. If anything doesn’t fit you, just leave it behind.”

Rameir sighed to himself and took the clothes to one of the rooms.

Of course, there was a mirror right on the wall to stare back at him. He sat the stuff down on the small bench and locked the door behind him. For a moment, he just stared at his reflection, before he frowned at it and slowly took his shirt off.

He avoided direct eye contact at the cult’s brand on his chest as he changed through the different shirts. They all fit fine, Rameir put his own shirt back on and gathered them up and folded them.

He spotted Béla looking through some jackets, and walked over to him with all the stuff.

Béla glanced at the folded pile and then back at the jackets on the wall wracks. “Did you try them?”

“Yeah.”

“They all fit?”

Rameir nodded.

“Great. Just gimme a minute.”

Béla gathered a small pile of stuff for himself together and left Rameir to wait on a bench near the changing rooms. Rameir fiddled with one of the tags and wondered what his parents would think when he came home with shopping bags. He checked his phone, still no reply.

Béla stepped out of the changing room a few minutes later. “Okay, ready to go,” he announced.

They took all the stuff to the cash register, and Béla swiped his card without hesitation.

“How much of that do I owe you?” Rameir asked.

“None.”

Rameir would check the tags at home and figure out how much on his own, then.

They bid the cashier goodbye and left a moment later.

“Levi’s next,” Béla had said, but they stopped at a small shop called Claire’s first. Béla didn’t push Rameir to buy anything, he found a pair of earrings with cherries dangling from them and brought them to the counter. That was all.

When they did get to Levi’s, Béla dragged him straight to the jeans section. Rameir was amazed by a store’s ability to have a whole section for jeans.

“Do you know your waist size?”

“No.”

Béla picked some ripped jeans in various sizes. “Okay, you’ll just have to see what works.” He thrusted several pairs of jeans into Rameir’s arms. “When you figure out which fits, tell me. I wanna see what they look like on you.”

Rameir gave him a puzzled look. “Okay?”

Béla waited by the changing rooms this time. Rameir found it easier to try them on than the shirts—there weren’t any suspicious marks on his legs, after all.

“Got one?” Béla called into the room.

“Think so.”

“Show me!”

Rameir stepped out, feeling not very self confident. Béla took a picture, and Rameir went pale.

“What the hell?”

“Relax. I’m only sending it to Drew, then I’ll delete it.”

Rameir’s stomach did pathetic flips, and his lungs felt too empty. He stepped back into the changing room and covered his face with his hands.

“Are you alright in there?” Béla asked.

Rameir didn’t respond.

“If it’s any consolation, Drew said you look cute.”

Rameir still didn’t respond. He didn’t know why, but he felt so ashamed.

Béla stepped in, Rameir had forgotten to lock the door again. “Hey, for real, you okay?”

“Please get out,” Rameir squeaked in a small voice.

Béla backed off. “Sorry.”

He closed the door behind him, and Rameir sat down on the changing room stool and tried to pull himself together. With a tired sigh, he changed back into his own clothes again and brought the jeans that fit back out.

Béla was having a very quiet phone call with someone when Rameir walked out. He paused mid-sentence, before saying to the person on the other line, “He’s back, gotta go.” He hung up quickly and stood up.

“Who was that?”

“Oh, just my dad,” Béla responded, “Anyways, what’s the waist size?”

Rameir checked the tag. “Thirty by Thirty-two.”

“Cool. Pretty much everything is the same here so, you don’t have to try any other pants on as long as we’re getting them in that size.”

To Rameir, he sounded like he might be stretching the truth. But Rameir didn’t question it. “Alright.”

“Let’s just grab one more, your choice.”

They found something sub par, cargo pants that Rameir could tolerate the color of. It seemed that cargo pants always came in a color that was almost a good shade of brown but not quite there. Béla texted someone quickly, before he left Rameir to sit on his own again.

“If you wanna wander and see anything else you like, feel free. I’m just gonna look around again.”

Rameir didn’t. He sat and tried to get over his feeling of overwhelm. His phone vibrated in his pocket, so he pulled it out to see who was calling. He’d hoped it would be his dad calling him back, it was Drew instead.

Rameir held the phone up to his ear. “Hello?”

Drew’s voice sounded on the other line. “Hi.” Rameir felt like the electrical technicalities of how phones worked didn’t do his voice justice. “Béla said you kind of freaked out earlier, is everything alright?”

“Kinda, sorta.”

Drew waited for him to continue.

So he did. “I’ve just never been shopping before, and it’s a bit much.”

“Yeah, I feel ya. They’re super loud and there’s way too many people.”

“Oh,” Rameir said, “it’s not really crowded right now.”

“You would not enjoy them in the middle of the day.”

Rameir laughed slightly. “Probably not.”

“Sorry if Béla is being a bit intense, too,” Drew rambled on, “He’s kinda. . . passionate about these things.”

“It’s alright.”

“So, how’s the shopping going?”

“I don’t really know what I’m doing,” Rameir admitted, “I usually just got all my clothes from my cousin, sometimes my parents would bring stuff home, that’s about it.”

“Excited about the new stuff?”

Rameir half-smiled. “A bit. I feel bad though.”

“Oh, how come?”

“Well, Béla’s paying for it all, and yeah.”

“Don’t worry about him, he’s got all sorts of reward discounts,” Drew assured him with a hearty chuckle, “He could probably whittle the price of a shirt down to a dollar if he tried.”

Rameir watched Béla take a small stack of clothes into a changing room. “Yeah.”

“I gotta go now. If it starts to get late, you can tell Béla to drop you off with me. I can get my parents to vouch for you not coming home last night.”

“Thanks, I’ll consider it.”

“Alright, goodbye.”

“Bye.”

Rameir clicked the hang up button. A missed call notification popped up from his cousin. Rameir didn’t want to deal with Faust right now, he didn’t call often and he didn’t call with friendly intentions, so he ignored it.

Béla took another moment in the changing room. When he finished, they took the stuff to the counter and left with the things in bags.

“You good for one more stop?” Béla checked.

“Sure.”

They went by one more shop with a name Rameir didn’t bother to read. He got a polo shirt that Béla insisted on, and that was it. He was far more worn out than he thought.

Béla seemed to pick up on this, and made the stop quick.

When they got back out to the car, Rameir was ready to collapse. Béla put their bags in the back. Rameir got into the back seat again and pressed his forehead against the headrest. He checked the time on his phone, it read 17:09.

“So, it’s kind of rush hour,” Béla said as he got into the driver’s seat, “It might take, like, a really long time to get you out to the countryside.”

“Mhm.”

“Wanna go get some dinner and try to wait it out, or should I just take you home?”

“Drew said you could drop me off at his place. So, that, I guess,” Rameir mumbled.

“Alright.”

Rameir sat back and put his seat belt on. Béla started the car and pulled out of the mall parking lot. Rameir tried to call his dad again, to no avail, then texted Drew that they were on their way.

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jinxthequeergirl · 5 years ago

Text

Dream Come True

Steve harrington x Hopper! Reader (coraline AU)

Summary: escaping your everyday life after you move to live with your father couldn't have been something you wanted more, luckily for you you are given the chance

Warning: swearing, Horror themes like idk It's Coraline i think that speaks for itself no?

So i don't know if im going to end up making this a series or not but hey if this does really well then I might, but just this is so long so i might have to.

~~~~~

In front of you sat a small box with many opportunities, two small glossy black buttons, thread and the promise of freedom...

You watched the rain drops race down the window intently as your father drove you home from the headwear store. you'd only been In Hawkins for only half a month, having to move there with your father after your mom died. And you had only spent the time unpacking, today you had finally convinced your dad to take you to get supplies so you could really make your new rooms more like you.

The car bounced slightly causing your head to lift and hit the window. "Ow!"

"Sorry pot hole..." Hopper said glancing over to you. "You alright?"

"Yea...but guess it takes a while to figure out if you have brain damage or not.." You muttered sitting straight in the car seat, crossing your arms over your chest.

"C'mon don't be that way...you get to redecorate your room..that must be exciting for you? Give you something to do while we wait for the rain to clear up. "I guess..." You perked up at a new idea popping into your head.

"Maybe I can start a garden in the front too? Make it look pretty? I have a garden box so we wouldn't need anything, el can help me too!?" You said almost as a question seeing if he would go along with the idea.

"Sure... Sounds good, just wait till the rain clears up so you aren't bringing mud in." You frowned lightly, ut had been raining for the past three days without any sign of stopping soon. "Yea...sure."

The car came to a slow stop infront of the house. "I'll help you get this stuff inside and make you lunch but I've got to go back to work." You nodded as you got out of the car.

You'd begun by rearanging the few things of furniture in the room,while hopper set to work at making you a lunch. You starting with the dresser dragging it across the room to set it in its new place.

You dusted off your hands and turned your attention to look at the new space you made, stopping once it was caught by something on the wall where the dresser once was.

"Hello..." You slid across the floor and dragged your fingers across the outline of a small door in the wall.

"Hey Dad!?" You yelled getting up to look for him. "Whats up?"

"What this?" You asked now running your finger over the key hole. "Do you have the key!?" You asked hopefully turing to look up at him in the dokr way. He shook his head and shrugged. "I...maybe? I'm not sure...if i did it's probably boared up! They're would be no point."

You rolled your eyes. "Now Food in on the counter your sister is with Mike so make sure to call in about an hour to check on her-"

"Can you please look for a key?" You cut in. He sighed pinching the bridge of his nose. "I can, but I'm late so just finish unpacking and setting up and I'll look for it when I come back." You huffed but nodded and started to finish setting up your room.

After about an hour and a half you'd finished painting, unpacking and decorating your room, you had finished. Even had lunch and called El just like hopper had asked. Now you simpily sat in your room staring at the photo of your previous bestfriends that sat on the bedside table.

Back in New York with your mom you never had to worry about being bored, all your friends where their and there where places to go. Hawkins was diffrent, granted you where still adjusting but that didn't make it any less difficult.

The phone rang snapping you of of your thoughts. You hustled across the house to puck it up. "Hello?"

"Y/n! Thank god you picked up! Just the girl I was looking for!"

"Hey Robin,whats up?"

"Not much, I was just wondering since the rains cleared up would you be intrested in taking a tour of Hawkins with me and Steve?"

You thought about it for a moment, The first day you'd mobed here and met everyone they where the two you'd hit it off with, well You did with Robin anyways so you didn't see why you couldn't get out.

"Yea...I'd love to!"

"Cool! We'll be there in a few."

"So what does one do around here?" You asked following beside Robin And Steve down the sidewalk. "Well there's the arcade... " steve started but quickly trailed off. "There are some shops around town." Robin added.

"Is there like, i dunno a mall maybe? A movie theater at least?"

"Movie theater yes, mall not so much."

"It a...it burned down." Steve informed. "Oh...wow..." You followed them through town, going in and out of every store that was open.

"So Steve...." You attempted to start while looking through a clothing Rack in a thrift store.

"Got a girlfriend?"

"Uh no..no ya know I'm kinda just testing the waters...seeing if theres anyone worth dating around here."

"And?" You asked not looking up at him, you could clearly tell he was trying to act cool around you.

"And?" He repeated your question.

"Is there?...anyone worth dating around here?"

"Nah none that are really my type." He said nonchalantly fixing his hair in the mirror across from him. "Wow...are you always this increadibly douchie? Or are you like this just for me?" You asked leaning on clothing rack to look at him better.

"What I'm not...I'm not being-"

"You kinda where Harrington." Robin said from across the store earing a chuckle from you. His face flushed and he pretened to look at a jacket that seemingly caught his attention. "Ah don't be that way stevie...it's sooo charming, I'm practically swooning for you." You said sarcastically. "Shut up!"

The sun was hanging low through the trees casting that late afternoon orange glow upon the three of you as you walked back home.

"This place is...pretty boring...how do you guys manage?"

"Hawkins isn't all bad...besides It's a lot more exciting than you would think." Robin said while offering you some of her candy. "You just gotta...know where to look."

"Sometimes the intresting things find you." Steve said stopping once your house came into view. "If you say so...thanks for showing me around."

"No problem, maybe we can hang out again soon." She offered as you started to continue forward. "Yea! That would be great!" They both waved to you as you stepped into the house shutting the door.

You placed a few of the nick nacks you'd bought onto the top of your dresser for decoration, glancing at something that wasn't there before. A glossy black key.

You plucked it from its spot on the dresser and turned to the small door quickly slidding across the floor once again to get to the door. You hestitantly dragged the key across the outline of the door ripping the wall paper open before slipping the key inside.

It slid in perfectly, giving you some sort of relife as it clicked open, you pulled it open being met with nithing but brick.

"Damn..." You huffed and shut the door and placed the key back ontop of the dresser.

Something yanked you from your sleep suddenly and you lied awake, a sliver of silver moonlight hitting your face through the curtains as you did so.

It was quiet as you lied there except for an ever so faint sound of humming that you just barrely missed. You stayed still fir a second trying to pin point the sound, it continued for a while as you did so softly floating through the air from an unknown source, you finally gave in and tossed the covers off and stood up from your bed moving around the room to find it stopping when your foot hit something on the ground.

"What the hell!?" Jumping back slightly at the contact you looked down seeing a long greyish green vine across your bedroom floor. "What the hell..." You repeared examining it closer you followed it with your gaze seeing it came from the small opening of the little door a slight glow came from it along with little white particals that floated up into the air around it.

You moved carefully over to it kneeling next to it careful to avoide the vine protruding from it, as you did you could hear the humming closer now. You pulled the door open getting a blast of air blown back into your face along with a bright glow. You gasped slightly watching a tunnle appear almost instantly infront of you.

The humming slightly louder now. With out a second thought you climbed through, eventually met with another door which you easily pushed open and found yourself crawling through only to see you'd cralwed back into your bedroom. "Huh?" The humming was louder, unmistakable too, you knew that song. You looked at your bedroom door seeing the light from the living room shining in.

"Dad!?" You stood up and exited the room being greeted by the smell of food cooking. "Dad? What are you do-" you stopped a few feet from the counter seeing him move around the kitchen

"Hey sweet pea! You're just in time for dinner!" You gulped thickly when he turned to face you. "Oh god...I must be mistaken...you aren't my dad...my dad-" it was him but, diffrent. He seemed plaer yet more lively.

"Doesn't cook?" He asked guesturing to the freshly cooked meal. You couldn't help but stumble back a little bit as he approached you with a light hearted laugh. "Well thats because I'm your other father dear! Well better father"

"Other...Father?...wha-"

"Why don't you get your mom and Tell her dinner is ready!"

"Mom?

"Well your Mother of course silly! I actually think she's in the garden out front." He pushed you forward lightly and you glanced back cautiously before going to the front door.

You opened the door and stepped outside being greeted by a beautifully bright garden. "Holy sh-"

"Watch your mouth young lady!" You jumped turning tonthe voice and and gulping.

"Oh my god....mom!?" You stopped and covered your mouth feeling tears briming in your eyes.

"Hello sweet pea!" She opened her arms and you instantly ran to her and hugged her. You could tell just like with your father she was diffrent but couldn't exactly tell whatbwas diffrent.

"You...your alive!"

"Well of course I am! Oh come look at this!"

She pulled away taking your hand and pulling you down the steps of the pourch into the flower filled front yard.

She held your shoulders as you watched the flowers practically bloom before you. "I planted them just this afternoon! Our faviorte!" It was true the flowers before you where always both you and your mothers faviorte.

"They're beautiful mom! Oh!" You turned to her with a smile. "Dad said dinner was ready and sent me to get you."

"Oh! We don't wanna keep him waiting!" She said giggling with you and guiding you back to the house.

"There they are!" Hopper yelled setting the last of the food on the table. "Thirsty?" Your mom asked as you sat down. "Mmm you know I could go for a purple cow!"

"Coming right up!" She knocked on the table lightly the lights above lowered themselves offering you said drink, along with extra grape soda and vanilla icecream just incase.

"Wow thank you!" You said taking the drink and extras. Hopper placed a plate infront of you. "Here comes the Gravey train choochoo!" You mom said earning a laugh from both you and your dad.

A toy train in fact made its way across the table stopping infront of you to dump gravey on your plate.

"Mmh! This is so good!" Youbsaid stuffing your mouth full of food. "More?" Hopper asked.

"No thank you I'm stuffed." You said leaning back and taking a last sip of your icecream float.

Hopper took the plate from you and your mother placed a cake before you that read 'Welcome home'

"Home?"

"We've been expecting you for a while!" Hopper said.

"Wow...uh..really?"

"Of course! You beling here! With your family!"

You smiled lightly.

"Thanks...but It's late...I should go to bed.."

"Oh of course!" You stood up and they both followed you to your bedroom. You crawled into bed and they took turns kissing your forhead and wishing you a goodnight. You slowly drifted off to sleep peacefully.

"It was so weird!" You said throwing a rock into the water infront of you.

"Well it was just a dream, nothing to freak about." Robin shrugged.

"Yea I mean your mom was there it couldn't have been real..."

You and robin both glared at Steve. "I...well thats not what I meant..." He gulped slinging his own rock into the water.

"He's right though." You said softly. "But it just...it felt so real! The food the...feeling! But I woke up and the door was all bricked up again..."

"That's just further proof it was only a dream." Robin said as you sat beside her.

"Yea..." It was already late afternoon and you had decided to stay out until the sun had set well into night.

Steve had dropped robin off at her house and so you sat alone with him in his car as he took you home.

"Sorry about what i said...about your mom..."

He said finally. "No...it's ok...like i said you where right...it's just a dream..." He frowned slightly, you could tell he was beating himself up about it.

In all honestly you hadn't gotten off on the best of feet with him but it's wasn't so awful to be around him, he just had a hard time telling when to open his mouth and when to keep it shut. But you liked him.

"Well here we are." He said pulling up to the house. "Thank." You said with a smile before getting out and going inside.

"Hey kid!" Hopper said happily as you stepped inside.

"Hey!" You smiled. "Oh hey, sorry I never got around to finding that key for you."

"Thats ok I found it"

El stood in the door way with a concerned look. "What are you-" you hurried to your room and pulled the key out and showed him.

"You where right though...there was nothing there." You shrugged going back to your room.

"Bad place." You jumped at El's voice behind you. "What?"

"Don't keep going there it's a bad place..." She said quietly. "What bad place?"

"El! Its Mike's on the phone!" El quickly left to take the phone.

"Bad place?..."

#steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader

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themangledsans0508 · 4 years ago

Text

SSTP: 6

“So, how long have you been on the surface?” Troy asked. Benson shrugged.

“My whole life. It’s actually pretty nice once you get used to it. And if you have a buddy who’s been alive since the fall.” Benson fiddled with his fingers. He missed the weight of his backpack and everything he had in it. His cassette player he’d have since he was seven, his entire music collection, Kipo’s anchor, his headphones, a lot of things that were important to him or useful for survival like his lighter.

“Dave seems pretty interesting,” Troy said. Benson nodded.

“Definitely. I mean, he was alive in the old world so he has some stories from then. Some of those are pretty funny. Like, he apparently used to be really small so one time he had to fly around for hours trying to avoid being squashed by some kid.” Troy laughed, a sound that was music to Benson’s ears.

“We didn’t have any non-mutated bugs or animals, they all had something weird about them. Like two-headed cows. They were pretty cute.”

“I thought Asher was the animal lover?” Benson joked.

“There can be two of us,” Troy smiled.

They came out of the woods, looking over Las Vistas. Benson scanned the area for any landmark he could make out, a little “ah-hah!” slipping past his lips when he spotted the nose.

“There are the Fitness Racoons! Now we just gotta get there.” Benson carefully walked down the grass to the sidewalk, slightly tripping on the uneven stones but catching himself. He looked back to see Troy smirked and he blushed. “We’ve been walking on grass for a while. Gotta get used to concrete again.”

“Okay, sure,” Troy said teasingly.

The time it took them to walk halfway to the nose, it was already almost sunset. Benson brought them into a fairly intact thrift shop, the only ruined part was the broken windows. Benson was disappointed to see the counter glass was shattered too, and only the metal bars stayed in place. He spread his hands out.

“We can stay back here, we just have to get rid of the glass, there’s probably a broom around here somewhere.”

“What is this place supposed to be. There’s like a mix of everything here.”

“I honestly don’t know. It’s called a ‘thrift shop’ but I don’t know what that means exactly. But I do know it has a ton of stuff that might actually work, unlike a junkyard.” Benson walked through the messy and narrow aisles until he found a dusty broom. He smacked the head of it against some shelves and when he was satisfied with it he swept the glass out from the small space. “There! Now we won’t be stabbed while we sleep.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Benson turned around and pulled a long empty self off the wall, leaning it against the metal skeleton of a counter to block the space from being easily seen from the outside.

“Acutally, a store like this one is where I got my cassette player, on the other side of town.”

“Maybe there’s another one around here. I mean, they seem to have a lot of stuff here.”

“Yeah, then you can have one.”

“I meant for you,” Troy clarified. “Yours got destroyed, right? I don’t need one. Plus, we’re going to be close for a while, and traveling togethr for the next few days, so I can listen with you.”

“Oh, right, yeah, but I dont need another one! It’s fine! You can have it!”

“I insist,” Troy said stubbornly. Benson sighed in defeat.

“Okay, let’s look.”

Benson walked the aisles slowly, looking for something else more than a new cassette player. He smiled slightly when he found some backpacks, looking through them for something that matched his style. He finally found one he liked well enough. It was mostly purple with the two extra pouches on it being a neon green. He slung it over his shoulders, happy to feel any sort of weight on his back again but a unused to how light it was.

He kept walking around, halfheartedly searching for a cassette player. He did want one, but he also wanted Troy to have one. He knew how nice it was to be able to listen to anything you already had and keep it on your person.

“Benson! Come here!” Benson hurried over, feeling a mix of emotions when his eyes landed on a Walkman. “It’s a original Walkman! First one ever released. This was ancient even by the fall’s standards.” Troy opened a box to reveal an assortment of cassette decks.

“Troy, you know you can have it. I don’t need it,” Benson chuckled nervously. Troy simply smiled at him.

“Come on, look at decks with me. We can probably find some good ones.”

They did look through the box, and took one of every album they could find. There were a lot of copies of the same one, like the first Oz the Originator album but that didn’t matter. After looking through them and grabbing what they wanted they looked around a bit more. Benson grabbing some headphones and Troy finding a packaged pair of earbuds.

The last thing Benson looked for was some blankets and pillows. By himself, he most likely would have just slept on the floor. He really didn’t care all that much. With Troy with him however, he wanted to make sure he was comfortable.

He was only slightly head over heels for him.

Troy joined him, shifting uncomfortably behind him. He looked slightly concerned at Benson felt the different materials.

“Aren’t you worried those could have bed bugs?” He asked finally, eying the fabrics warily. Benson shook his head.

“After two-hundred years, they would be long gone,” he reassured.

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay.” He took a deep breath, still worried about it slightly.

Pillows were much easier to pick out, since all he did was push them to see if they were soft or hard. After deciding on those as well. He set up their bed. There wasn’t really much room for being distant and while he loved the idea of being next to Troy, he was also nervous about it.

“Does that look good?” Troy nodded in response.

“It looks perfect.” He still looked slightly uncomfortable so Benson placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, trust me, any bed bugs are dead by now, and even if they were alive, they’d have left. They’d be the size of Toddler Dave, so we’d definitely see them.” Troy placed his hand on top of Benson’s and shot him a thankful smile.

After night had fully taken over, Benson decided to try and sleep. It wasn’t easy feeling Troy’s warmth radiating next to him. He felt like he was on fire and he was only under one blanket.

“Benson?” He jumped slightly, turning to face the other in surprise.

“Yeah?” He responded nervously. Troy still looked anxious, but this time Benson could tell it was about something else.

“I think our date is gonna have to wait until after Emilia isn’t a threat anymore.”

“Our date?”

“Yeah, I mean, that’s what I wanted it to be. Like an actual date. But it has to wait.” Benson looked at him blankly.

“You wanted to go on a date with me? That was what it was?”

“Yeah,” Troy looked like he wanted to shrink in on himself.

“Why?” Troy laughed at that.

“Well, who wouldn’t? You’re handsome, smart, brave, and a total dork.”

“But you’re the handsome one! The smart one, the brave one, and you’re just amazing!” Benson stared at him. “Honestly I thought you were into Dalia when we first met.”

“No, she’s like a sister to me. Same with Asher, just my younger siblings. So I want to protect them, y’know?” Benson nodded.

“So, if you wanted to go out with me, does that mean you wanted to date me?” He asked.

“Well, do you want to date me?”

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you second.”

“Fine, yes, I want to date you,” Benson admitted, his cheeks heating up.

“I want to date you,” Troy clarified.

“Does that mean we’re dating now?”

“I don’t know, I’ve always done a date first. But with you, I’d like it if we started before the date.”

“Well I’ve never actually done this before. So before the first date is fine with me.”

“Is it fine with you if I call you my boyfriend?”

“Yes”

“Is it fine with you if I hold your hand?” Troy asked. Benson smiled at him.

“Yes.”

Troy didn’t hesitate before taking his hand, his smile lighting up the dark room.

“Goodnight Benson.”

“Goodnight Troy.”

Neither had slept as soundly since everything had started.

#kataow #kipo and the age of wonderbeasts #chara writes #fanfiction #something stronger than poison #sstp #kipo/wolf

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fire-the-headcanons · 5 years ago

Text

What's WeaponsEx?" Raven asked.

"There's a big weapons convention every summer in Vale. Tons of businesses show off new stuff. Dust companies, arms manufacturers, defense engineers—" he said.

"And there's an entire wing of the hall for comics!"

"You mean recruiting."

"Yeah, same difference. There's costume contests, artists answer questions and sign autographs—"

"And they get a few famous Huntsmen to come too," he finished.

Qrow listened with an intensity usually saved for forging class. "Whoa, cool."

Raven rolled her eyes. "You're drooling."

Follow the Beacon Taiyang—COSTumes

[Link to Masterpost]

[Hey, look! A normal-length chapter!]

"Ramparts! For all of your cosplay needs!" Summer declared, throwing the door open dramatically. The Taupes followed her in, looking around in confusion.

"This is a costume store?" Raven asked, brushing through a rack of sweaters.

"Thrift store," Tai corrected. "People donate old clothes, they sell 'em cheap, and the money goes to charity. Summer likes to find stuff and make alterations."

"Come on, let's look at suits!" She grabbed Qrow's wrist and hauled him off toward the men’s section. Amused, Tai and Raven followed.

"Okay, we want to find a green suit and vest for Ozpin, and a red suit for Pete," Summer said, already digging through the racks for anything near the right colors. "Preferably double-breasted, but we probably won't find one. We can sew a little gold ribbon around the edges to make it look like him. I've got a scarf we could tie like his ascot. What about shoes? Should we get shoes?"

He accepted the hideous maroon suit she was holding out. "Our uniform shoes will be fine, Summer."

"Yeah, you're right." She was in her natural habitat now, comparing every dark green suit in the store to one of their photos from Ozpin's file. It only took a few minutes for her to pop back out of the racks with a three-piece that looked to be about Qrow's size. "Try it on!"

"Uh…" He eyed it warily, holding it in front of his face.

"We are not spending four thousand lien on something you're only going to wear once," Raven said, glaring at the tag.

She had a point. Tai glanced over Summer's shoulder at the photo on the scroll, searching for another solution. "Y'know, Ozpin's suit is really dark—the uniform jacket and pants would probably work fine if we got a green turtleneck to put under it."

"I was thinking just a scarf for that bit, actually," Summer said, running to the end of the aisle and grabbing one with horrible stringy fringe. "We'll tuck the ends in under the jacket. Cardboard will work for his tie-pin-thing, and then all we need are some glasses."

The bin was right next to Tai, and he started rifling through. "None of these look like Ozpin's."

"Those weird bendy parts on the sides are probably custom. Just grab some small round ones."

He held up a pair he’d seen almost immediately, and Qrow gingerly took them.

"How does he see though them?" he muttered, squinting. "These are tiny."

"They're also only thirty lien 'cause the lens is cracked, but we can take them out back at school."

"What should we get for the Carmine costume?" Tai asked. "I don't think we're going to find a leather apron here. Or for less than fifty thousand lien."

"What? No, I'm wearing the one I didn't finish in time for WeaponsEx!"

"Come on, you can wear it next year. We've gotta match. Nobody will be able to see the detail on it in the dark anyway!"

"Fine," she sighed, grabbing maybe the ugliest brown dress in existence off the rack behind her. It looked about six sizes too big for her, layered with thick ruffles in multiple shades. "I'll cut patches of the darker lining for the embossing Carmine has around the edges. There should be plenty of fabric."

She just couldn’t do a sewing project halfway. "That's still way more effort than you need to put into this."

"What's WeaponsEx?" Raven asked.

"There's a big weapons convention every summer in Vale. Tons of businesses show off new stuff. Dust companies, arms manufacturers, defense engineers—" he said.

"And there's an entire wing of the hall for comics!"

"You mean recruiting."

"Yeah, same difference. There's costume contests, artists answer questions and sign autographs—"

"And they get a few famous Huntsmen to come too," he finished.

Qrow listened with an intensity usually saved for forging class. "Whoa, cool."

Raven rolled her eyes. "You're drooling."

"Yeah, it's where the SDC unveiled the Guillotine last year." Summer said, still thumbing through the suits. "The easiest way to do Professor Mesánychta's suit would be to splatter-paint stars onto the school uniform, but anything that would show up might not wash out…"

"Flour." Tai pointed out.

"Ooooh! Yeah!"

Raven frowned. "It'll just fall off."

"Not while you're wearing it! Your aura kinda holds it in place—I speak from experience. We can make her headband out of cardboard too. Lucky so many of the staff wear dark suits."

They brought their things up to the registers, the twins looking much more at ease with their two hundred lien price tag.

"So, where should we eat?" Summer chirped.

"…We're not going back to the school?" Qrow and Raven shared an anxious look.

"Well… we could, but it'd take like two hours to fly there and back," she said. "Besides, don't you want to go somewhere other than the cafeteria?"

"Maybe, uh, we'll just meet up with you again after, then…" Qrow stammered.

"What? Come on, that'll take ages," Summer said with a wave. "Come with us to Goldenrod's! We go every time we’re in Vale, they have these giant noodle bowls, it's great—”

"We'll meet you there in a half hour," Raven said. "There's a comic store Qrow wanted to look at."

Why were they—oh. They hadn't been worried about the cost of the suit just because it was frivolous. Tai's ears burned with secondhand embarrassment. "Uh, Sum—"

Summer tilted her head. "You know I love comics… Why don't we all go after lunch?"

Qrow straightened up, bracing himself. "Because we don't have any money."

Raven shot him a panicked glare as Summer wilted. "…Oh." She fiddled with her hands for a second before shoving them into the pockets of her hoodie. "Sorry, I…"

"I—I mean, it's been nice looking around with you two—"

"We'll buy today," Tai said quickly. Anything to make the awkward stop.

"You don't have to—" Raven began.

"No, come on, it's team bonding time! We've got you. And next time we come to town we'll just pack a lunch."

* * *

"So, have you ever visited Mistral?" Summer asked, errantly drumming on the table as they waited. "I guess you said you were from southern Anima, that'd be a long trip…"

"It was. We went twice."

Her eyes widened. "Really? What's it like? I don't really remember Anima that well."

"It's…more dangerous than Vale," he said, glancing out of the window at the end of their booth. "Unless you're rich. We mostly kept our heads down. …What about your home? What's Patch like?"

Summer shrugged. "Not much to say. It's just a little port town on an island outside Vale. Forest on the west side has some Grimm, nothing big enough to be a real threat."

"It's the most boring place in existence," Tai sighed.

"At least you'd have ships to look at," Raven said. "There is nothing on Remnant less interesting than a farm." Everyone stared at her for a half-second, she'd been her usual withdrawn self all day. She flinched at the sudden attention. "…I've always liked boats."

"Me too," Summer admitted. "But, sailing boats. With sails. You know, the old-fashioned windy kind, not the new big loud cargo ships."

Nobody liked the giant—usually Atlesian—monsters that would barge into the harbor at all hours. Tai gestured with his chopsticks. "Ugh, and that one asshole that always runs too close to the north side of the island and wakes everyone up in the middle of the night!"

"Well, hey, why don't we go to the docks after the comic store? We could take pictures and stuff!"

"Because your camera’s broken. Remember?"

"Oh, yeah." Her face fell a little. "Well, we can still look around."

"There's not actually a comic store," Raven admitted. "We were trying to buy time."

Summer reached across the table, taking her hand in both of hers. "Raven. You're not getting out of going to the comic shop with me and Qrow just because you made it all up."

Raven rolled her eyes, the ghost of a real smile playing around her mouth. "Fine."

Next Chapter: Summer—Mission Critical

[Yet another chapter of Qrow is a Nerd. ‘Suave flirt’ is a valid interpretation of the text, it’s just not my interpretation]

#rwby #rwby fanfiction #strq #team strq #taiyang xiao long #summer rose #qrow branwen #raven branwen #ozpin #peter port #zelenia mesánychta #carmine eitri #follow the beacon #mine

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aggresivelyfriendly · 5 years ago

Text

Summer’s Child

Summer’s Child Chapter 5- Angel of The Morning

Hey doll’s, its been a little break from all the gorgeous content, and im withering on the vine! Where oh where is the music. (Just Kidding, Jeff, take your time Harry-not really, but ok....) Special thanks to @emulateharry, and my true loves- @dirtystyles and @bleedinglove4h

May 1969

He just wanted to wear his dad's good suit. That's all he wanted. It would have made this simpler and definitely lessen the humiliation he was feeling.

Harry was stood in the Sears suit department watching Jillian make ugly faces at all the drab suits.

"Not one of them can be a color?" She'd looked at Harry standing there holding several checked jackets and sighed.

"I'm really fine with grey or blue." He'd shrugged. Those were colors. And as for the plaid in his hand, his dad had several tweed coats he was pretty sure he'd grown into. He was as tall as him now, maybe a hair taller. Or his hair ''twas taller. And a little broader. His posture was just band, mostly because he wanted to fold in on himself like a dinner napkin a lot of the time. Like right now. Not only was he going to Prom as her and Will's third wheel. He was going to stand out like the star in a play if Jillian got her way about his attire. He was really more of a background character.

Harry was elated when Jillian just huffed and took all the jackets out of his hand and gave him the blue suit. He'd been eyeing it for a while now. It was not navy, decidedly, but it was blue. Blue was safe, but it had small details he liked, the lapels and the flares leg. It was, well, groovy would be Jillian's description, was.

"You sure your don't want to try on the green suit?" She picked up the mossy suit one more time.

Harry wasn't sure what the difference was between a blue suit and a green one, the green just seemed, loud. "I think it's a little much." He narrowed his eyes behind his glasses at the fabric.

"But it's corduroy." She smiled like that made the difference. It did, just not the way she thought it did.

"Maybe that's why I think it's a little much." He inclined his forehead at her.

"I think you play it too safe." She shrugged.

He very much did play it safe. Not just with clothes. But, "the pants of the blue one are belled." That seemed relevant and like she needed a reminder.

Jillian trilled her musical laugh. "Oh, alright, I dig it. We have reached your limit on cool. Go try it on." He walked into the dressing room and could hear her giggling outside.

"What are you plotting?" He nearly tripped over his own pants, thankfully since he couldn't afford a suit and extra pants, when the corduroy hit his head.

"I wanna see you in it. You're gonna look groovy. Your eyes will be green like jade man!" His heart soared. "Trina Lewis said she's just noticed how pretty the color was the other day, when you were cleaning your glasses." And it sunk.

"Who's Trini Lewis?"

"She's in English with us. And Trina, doof." She laughed. "She moved here last year. Kinda quiet really curly blonde hair, brown eyes."

"Where does she sit?" He didn't care, he was simply stalling.

"She sits one back and two over from me, so three from you." That's why he'd never noticed, he looked forward in class, certainly no further back than Jillian.

"Why are we talking about Trini—"

"Trina." She giggled.

"Trina, any how?" He stepped out in the blue suit expecting to continue sparring with her.

She was quiet. It was strange, so Harry only caught a glimpse of himself before he redirected his attention to her. Jillian's eyes always took up a bit more than their fair share of her face, or he focused on them most to avoid looking at her mouth.

Sitting on the round tufted avocado stool, they were shooter marble big. And her mouth was caught on whatever explanation she was gonna give about the blonde in their English class. Trini? It was hard to remember anyone else's name when she was looking up at him, especially like that.

Something broke when she blinked, the moment, his heart, it was hard to say. "What?" He finally asked to break the tension. The hairs on his arm were standing on end.

"Nothing," she swallowed loud. "where are your glasses?"

"Oh, I took them off to get my sweater over my head, forgot to pop them back on."

"Your hair looks different too. I um," She fidgeted with her hair, "I, um, didn't know it had gotten so long." It sounded like a compliment, though the words weren't complimentary exactly. He'd take it. He wasn't sure about the way she was gazing at him; it looked like she'd been staring at the sun, like when you see black spots because you stared too directly.

Seemed fair, he often felt like he watched her like the moon through a telescope trying to map her geography.

His hair was longer than normal. It seemed fashionable, though he still did it in his usual fashion, so no one had noticed, he just pushed it back after showers. He wasn't sure it was worth it, the growth. Plus, his hair was getting hard to pomade so he was just about ready to cut it.

Harry was pretty sure he'd let it go until it touched his shoulders now.

Jillian loved long hair, he knew it. It was a very uncommon sight still in their small town. It might have been his unnamed motivation.

"Yeah, I thought I'd try it." For California. But he still hadn't had time to share with her. They hung out, not as much as they used to, and her mom was having a long stitch of singleness, so Jillian slept at home. He hoped to tell her. He'd hoped to continue planning together. He wondered if he hadn't been able to get it out because he was afraid she'd changed her mind. Time had passed, and well, Will. Will was still around, but Harry still hoped for forever. And that meant California, just the two Of them. Her eyes said maybe

He had a little hope, maybe they could find some sweet romance after all.

"It looks really nice." Jillian finally said. Her voice a little higher than normal. There was a pause. "You know, I thought you'd grown out of your curls." She gestured to the mirror and rushed through the next question. "Do you like the blue?"

Harry realized the mirror was still there and looked at himself. He looked really tall in these bell bottoms. He supposed he was kind of taller than most of the boys at school. He'd need a boot, maybe with a bit of a heel, he may have a loafer that would work. The shirt was a bit ruffly. "I like the blue, maybe not the shirt. The pants are groovy." He put his leg up to let the flare open. "Do people grow out of their curls?" He ran his hand through his hair, ruffled it up. He could feel her eyes and it was such a nice boomerang of his feelings and attention on her; he preened a little.

"Should I try the green?" He walked a few steps closer to peer at his eyes. He never really thought about their color, he supposed they were really green. He was partial to blue, blue eyes and the blue sight. He hunkered down next to her, sitting on his heels, and bumped her shoulder. "Or have we found the one? Though I'd prefer a different shirt."

She kept her head forward and he was slightly miffed she didn't slide her forehead over his. He thought about breathing her condensed breath on his bench seat in January a lot. That was a sense memory, it smarted that it was coupled with silently committing to friendship for life. If she would just turn to him now, maybe....

"I think the shirt makes it, but the flares are far out enough for me. You should try the green, at least see how it looks." He rolled his head to the light and stood up. She wasn't gonna breathe on him, despite their earlier moment.

He sighed. "Ok." Once he got in the room he looked at his choices. He was already exhausted, and this was his first suit. "How many dresses did you have to try on?"

"Oh, I'm gonna wear the dress you bought me. The pink one?" She sounded nonchalant on purpose, it didn't quite work.

"Are you supposed to do that? Rewear dresses to big events?" He had money from his dad for the suit. Started checking price tags. The blue was more than the brown. But the green was most expensive.

"I just really like the dress."

He barely had the shirt on when he stepped out. And Jillian swallowed once her gaze reached his face while he was buttoning up. It had started at his navel where his fingers had fumbled. He needed to see her face. He felt like there were things she wasn't saying. He knew there were, but if she bit her lip or cut her eyes away quick, he'd know she was lying.

She did the second when he got the jacket on. "Listen, go get some dresses. Look at the sale racks, or we can try Mel's again."

"The pink was a treasure find, Harry."

"There's gotta be a better thrift shop here in Syracuse. We could try another one. I'll get the blue instead of the green, then I can use the difference in cash to pick it up for you?" He just felt like she needed a new dress.

"I don't care if people notice Harry." Did he? Maybe. He already heard troubling things about her. The high school rumor mill was very busy trying to figure out what Will was doing with Jillian 8 months on. They figured he hadn't gotten what he was after. What Jillian was trying to get outta Will was less discussed. Everyone assumed his family's money and social status, but Harry confused them further.

Jillian still rode to school with Harry often, or had since they'd made up, and she occasionally ate with him in the library. The supposed triangle made people feel sorry, for him.

He'd heard back up boyfriend a time or two again. It always felt like a slap. May always feel that way.

But that wasn't Jillian, that was just high school dicks.

"Don't you wanna look? It couldn't hurt."

"I'll look, if you wear the ruffled shirt." She turned her face sideways, her cheekbones shone fetchingly, even in the harsh department store lighting.

"You drive a hard bargain. But I'll do it." He wanted to reverse their positions of the last hour. It seemed like she saw him anew today. He looked at her new with each day. In pretty dresses couldn't hurt, they were memories he could hoard up like treasure. Her in her prom dress, his date or not, smiling at him and pleased with herself.

"That's not the whole bargain. I also want you to ask Trina to the dance."

"The dance is in a week!" He squawked and was getting back into his own clothes. He forewent the sweater vest. He was hot from all the changing so much his hair was definitely curling up from the damp, so he just pushed it back and over. "Won't that offend her?"

He had no excuses for why he left the glasses off. He'd never even realized how green his eyes were, either.

"Nah, she's not got a date, it'll give her a reason to buy a dress. She wants to go. She wants to go with you." They were walking out by now. The line had been minimal and they'd only done quick pleasantries while they were embroiled in their current debate.

He opened her car door. And she slid in and reached over to unlock his. Harry thought about it as he walked around. He was sure Trini was nice, Trina, and it would save him from an awkward dynamic. When they were all around each other, Will mostly ignored him, but Prom was long compared to moments at Dairy Barn or in the halls. That may be nice.

The problem was, he wanted to go with Jillian. Even as the strange tripod that she, he and Will had developed. She was changing their dynamic. It was disappointing, but he was sure she envisioned some double date scenario. A partner of his own may distract him from her and Will kissing. Or whatever. He could see the merits of the idea more and more. Harry was ready to agree, but needed to confirm the terms.

"So," he looked at her across the bench seat. He felt taller when she looked him in the eye today. He was gonna have to put the glasses on to drive, but he was gonna wait until the engine purred to life. "If I ask Trina to the dance and wear that ever so slightly cheaper suit with the ruffled blouse."

"It's not a blouse." She insisted.

"It's a blouse." He kept talking, over her interruption and through his grinning teeth. "Then we can search some thrift shops and find you a dress? A new one?"

She chewed her lip. Jillian wanted to say no, but she also wanted him to go with Trina, or she really liked the blouse. He wasn't sure which. "Yes." She said and screwed up her mouth like she'd eaten a load of salt and vinegar chips, which he loved and she tolerated. She'd liked the Worcester chips his dad got when he went to New York and found a specialty shop much better. They could get them next month before or after The Beach Boys show.

He'd also heard there was gonna be a big music show nearby this summer. Maybe they could go? He'd ask her after he got her in a dress. Though questions usually preceded gowns.

"I would shake your hand, but I'm driving." He looked at her grinning. "Can you be trusted?"

She just stared at him and he was confused by her mood.

"Can we listen to the radio?" She leaned forward without him saying yes. That was the obvious answer. They sang together, always. He headed to the area around the university. He remembered there being a charity shop there with good stuff.

She was singing softly to "The Zombies." He got caught up in the moment of it, and his voice dropped off the chorus. She could carry it. The lyrics carried his away. This was a season; winter was ending and they were headed for years long spring. He was just about to tell her. All his plans. He wasn't sure why he hadn't yet. Every time he went to share, he found himself saying something else. Like he was sure that forever didn't extend past August and she was really just shining him on until she could leave. That she was gonna marry Will in a year and have a baby, like so many girls they knew, or the worst. That she wanted California on her own, and only faux planned with him to placate him. He hated being placated.

He really hated thinking these thoughts.

Maybe that's why he said, "what color dress you gonna get?" Instead of anything important, everything important.

She looked at him then, in that way she had. Like he was made of glass, but she'd only reply to the reflection, blurry on top. Not what she saw deeper. He appreciated that she didn't force candor, it seemed she always knew without him saying.

"When you thrift shop, you can't be as picky. It'll do if we find something that fits and is somewhat appropriate."

"Appropriate?" He laughed.

She rolled her eyes. "For a dance."

"I feel like it's the only time they let you guys dress in anything remotely inappropriate." He glanced quick to catch her expression. He had the mirror, but in motion was better. "Remember last year when they got you for that mini skirt?"

"Ugh, it was not that short."

He bit his laugh off. It was pretty short. He zigged to a new subject. "How's this place look?" He gestured at the store he had in mind. The front window was full of shawls and bell bottoms, a tie dye tapestry peaking out behind.

"Far Out, Hardy!"

"You haven't called me that in forever." He jumped down and lit up further when she slipped her arm through his. She was touchy like when they were younger today. After her dad left, well, it was nice for it to be back.

"You haven't earned it! When was the last time you found me pretty Beetles?"

"I find you Beatles albums."

"Not as good," She shook her head and bowed like the Hare Krishnas in Central Park when he opened the door for her.

"That's not what you said when I found Sgt.Pepper early for you."

"Well, maybe that one should have gotten a Hardy."

"Your giddy scream was enough." They'd made it to the dress section while they were bantering.

It looked like a pastel bomb went off. There were a lot of flounces. Jillian stayed away from the most complicated pieces and chose darker colors. It surprised him.

The black dress was drab and everything was so low cut, she'd claimed even on prom night they'd kick her out.

She might have even been right, he was almost hyperventilating and shifting his erection to his waistband after that dark blue one shift dress. He didn't know people who weren't Cher wore necklines like that. Jillian was not shaped like Cher. Harry had wandered to distract himself from seeing her in anything else that would make him feel like he ran the hurdles in gym. It was in a random spot he found her dress. It was white, with ruffled cap sleeves and little hippie flowers. The front wouldn't get her kicked out, but it would set his heart to racing.

Will's too.

But it was too beautiful to not bring it to her.

Jillian's eyes widened, it was his favorite face, when he surprised her with something she loved. She was the great gift giver and he tried to get on her level every birthday and Christmas. He'd succeeded a few times, The Beach Boys tickets, the headband that looked just like the one the girl on the cover of Life had worn when they put out the issue on hippies. Her bike when he'd fixed it after she thought it was broken for good at 11.

This was better. Because she slipped the dress from his fingers like it was worth rubies, not $4 as the tag said. She held it lightly, but immediately walked into the dressing room. His eyes widened in a mirror image of her in Sears when she walked out of the dressing room.

"Wow." Was all he could muster. "You look....."

"Yeah?" It's groovy?" She looked like she believed it, and just needed him to back her, like he always did.

"It's far out, Jill." He called her that when he was overcome. Or she was crying. She looked a little misty. He swallowed over the lump in his throat. "You can wear some flowers in your hair too. You'll look so pretty. I'll go look for some."

He found some fake potted plant for .25 and took off buds. He wasn't sure how she'd do it. But he could see the halo of white flowers around her face. It was a window to his future. This dress, flowers in her hair, the alameda county court house.

"How's this?" He held out the handful of flowers and she looked up. He wanted to receive that benediction again and again. Harry didn't know she liked getting flowers, he'd never given her a living thing as a gift. He would now. He'd bring her real flowers home when they had a place. He liked learning new things about her.

"Perfect, they're perfect." She took the buds and pulled her hair up messily, the silky tresses falling through her fingers and the band she had. The hard green parts of the fake petals stuck in between and stayed for put for enough seconds to get an idea of what she'd look like Saturday. Harry stood behind her and gazed in the glass with her.

His heart pounded, and if she was facing him, he was sure he wouldn't be able to keep from kissing her.

"Do you think Will will like it?"

The bubble filling where his heart should be burst. He rubbed over his chest to warm the ice that comment induced, and did what best friends do, "How could he not? You look like an angel."

"An angel of the morning?" She grinned. He wanted to return it. They'd sung it en route. Before the suits. It was hard to smile back though. She always looked like an angel in the morning, especially in the morning. But, was she asking because of Will? Because he might see her just after dawn?

"An angel at anytime." He assured her. Will was staying in New York. And they were going to California. He was gonna give her the dream, he reminded himself. God he loved her and was so scared she was gonna spend the night with Will. Like really spend the night, not just share a bed, no matter how small.

It was prom. There was a strange expectation. Lots of the boys had been talking about the hotel rooms they'd gotten. The dance was all the way in Syracuse, at the college. A couple groups were staying in the dorms or frats with older siblings. He hadn't heard Will talking about hotel rooms, but Steve was, and his plans for it. Though to hear him tell it, he'd had his girlfriend in his truck many a time.

It always made Harry grit his teeth.

Especially when Steve talked about Jillian's tits and Will smiled and laughed. He'd seen Will give an approximation with the cupped palms of his hands and say, "She goes crazy," and lick his lips that time.

Harry couldn't tell that to Jillian, about Will talking about her like that, not without ulterior motives. It was her decision anyhow. And he couldn't bring himself to ask about it. They didn't talk about her and Will, not really, just surface stuff. Though he spent plenty of time worrying about it, and loathing himself for it. Fear and loathing in New York.

"Um, I think this is the one. I'll go pay." He reached to the top of her back and took the tag off. His finger tips coasted over her skin for just a pleasant second. He ignored the chill bumps that rose. He must have startled her. "You look beautiful." He said as he left.

He was blinded by her smile and nearly crushed the little handwritten tag on his way to pay for that dress for her to go to a dance with someone else.

But he dreamed of her wearing it with real flowers in her hair and saying loving words and long term vows to him as sunlight broke through fog.

The week was a bit of a blur. Trini, no Trina, said yes, she squealed and hugged him. There were tests and end of year activities, and it felt like the ending of a movie you knew had a sequel. He was really excited for the next chapter.

He felt like a new man. Looked it, too. He was only wearing his glasses in class and had let his growing hair loose. His physics teacher didn't recognize him on Wednesday. Which made him both really confused and a little smug.

His da had stopped him on Saturday. "You lost your glasses then?"

Harry'd quirked his head to the side and pulled them from his jean's pocket and slipped them up his nose.

"No?"

"Good. You wear them to drive?"

Harry had nodded.

"Good. It's nice to see your mother's eyes." And he'd taken his mug of tea and hid out from all the emotion in his study.

That was when he was leaving to get Jillian from the early shift at work. They were getting ready at his house, he'd drop her at Will's and then find Trina's house on the way. Shouldn't be too hard, their town only had one stop light.

He gave her the bathroom. The spicy smells coming from under the bathroom door where new and altogether pleasant. He knocked. "New perfume?"

"Um, yeah. Will bought it for me. Its Opium."

"It's nice." He complimented and leaned his forehead as softly as possible against the wood grain.

"It's alright. I miss my Love's." He'd bought that one birthday, liked the powdery scent . It just seemed like Jillian to him. He missed it too.

She'd been in the bathroom, long after he was in his suit. The new look was easier, he didn't have to pomade his hair and try to subdue it. He just let it curl around his ears and neck and forehead. He needed to get in to splash on some after shave, for scent, he'd never really needed to shave. Harry didn't want to rush her, but..... He listened to small movement and soft sighs. He was just about to say something, then.

For a second, he thought he heard a sob. "You ok?"

"Yeah, yeah." Her voice was thick. "I keep having to redo my eyeliner. I wanted to try that Sharon Tate thing. It's hard. I'm frustrated."

Over explaining, not a good sign. "Can I come in."

"Um no, I'm in my underwear."

Harry groaned, but bit off the sound. "Did something happen?"

"My um, my mom, she didn't come home last night. I guess I'm a little worried." Her voice sounded close. Like they were both speaking through the hinges.

"Do you want to go by and check on her? Or.." he squared his shoulders. "Or we can drive by the bar?"

"That's, that would be really good, Harry." She opened the door and he almost fell in. Jillian peeked at him, and their faces were so close. "Thanks." She kissed his cheek and her breath smelled sweet. Even over the strong perfume that didn't fit her.

"We need to hurry then. I don't want to be late to Trina, seems rude." His voice was sheer, thin as the overlay of her dress.

"K, I'll hurry."

"Leave the eyes alone." They were misty, it would run. "You look perfect."

She nodded and smiled. Then closed the door softly. He could feel the grain of the wood on the heel of his hand when he placed it there.

She came out 10 minutes later. He wee'd and splashed on his scent. Well, His dad's.

He was trying to push down the ruffles when he came out.

"Stop that!" Her laugh tickled his ears like questing fingers under blankets. She re ruffled him.

They needed to get out of here, all her casual affection was affecting him. He couldn't take it.

It was worse when his dad insisted on pictures, like they were going together, like she was his date. Like it was his dream.Standing behind her, with his arms around her waist, her unfamiliar smell going to his head and her bum resting too close for comfort on his pelvis, he focused on his anguish, and the periodic table, so he wouldn't embarrass himself.

"You guys look lovely. That will be a framer." He swore his dad was crying, in a very British way. He was fussing about behind him with the camera at his desk.

"We're going da." He tried to get his attention. Get him to turn around. So he could check his hunch.

"Oh, quite right. Wouldn't want you to be late. Have a good time. Don't worry about curfew." Harry's mouth dropped open. "Enjoy yourselves."

He was keeping his eyes firmly on the road. Though he could feel Jillian's on him. His dad looked, funny. He had never seen him so emotional. He let his mind run on that while the seat he'd for her parent. Jillian got uncomfortable and quiet when her mom let her down. He let her feel it. He'd snap her out of it after they figured out what exactly was going in. He kinda knew where she was.

Jillian's mom wasn't at their house.

But her beat up pick up was outside the VFW she sometimes called work.

"Look, she's just down the pub. It's ok. Do you want to go in so she can see you?" She really should. If only to shame the devil for probably not even knowing it was prom.

Jillian scanned parking lot. Her gaze stuttered over a black camaro at the end. It looked very familiar, but Harry couldn't place it.

He went to switch off the engine. Jillian grabbed Harry's wrist to stop his motion. Another casual touch that felt committed, and said, "no, I don't want to be late for Will."

"You don't think your mom would want to see you?" She didn't deserve it, but it would be merciful.

"If it was important to her, she would have helped me get ready, instead of not even coming home." Her face had the blank look it got when she shut down. Jillian wasn't always merciful.

He knew better but, "But."

"No, Harry. Let's go." He eased his foot off the break and obeyed.

She didn't touch him again, just kept her hands folded on her lap. There was a corsage on the seat. It wasn't for her.

He watched her walk into Will's, but didn't see the corsage, a pink set of carnations, until he and Trina arrived at the dance.

He wasn't sure why he was surprised, but Jillian and Will sat at another table altogether than him and Trina. At first, embarrassingly, he felt close to tears over it. Suddenly, his dad's reaction made sense. He wished he had a desk and camera to fuss with. He consoles himself with reason.

It made sense, both Will and Jillian on court, it was closer to the stage, he reminded himself. He told himself this while he put a smile on like a kid pastes cut outs on a test page.

They didn't win, and he didn't like who he was that he felt a swelling in his chest at it. Despite Jillian's crestfallen face. It was one of the few moments he was surprised about one of her reactions. A few months ago he would have been surprised she cared to win at all.

It was the second to last dance when he saw Jillian coming towards him. He had to admit, he had had a lovely time with Trina. They could be good friends, even if he hadn't been in love with someone else, he believed he would have felt the same.

He hoped.

"Trina, do you mind if I cut in." She'd tapped his date's shoulder. He'd kept turning his date from 'take time to know her' to 'angel of the morning.'

Both described Jillian to him. But he was glad she got to dance with him to the latter.

He spared a second's thought for Trina, but he was pretty sure she felt the same, about them being better suited as friends. She was chatting with Simon, from history, he thought. Then dancing.

He had tunnel vision he guessed. For lessons at school. For Jillian now. For California in three months. "You having fun?" He opened with, as formal as his ruffled shirt.

"Yeah, I guess. I'm a little sad we lost." She screwed up her face in a way that told him she was as surprised as him.

"I saw that!" He made a face at her.

"I know. I'm surprised too. I didn't even know I wanted to win."

"Well, I've won. Since I get to dance with the prettiest girl here. Real prom queen."

She blushed. She rarely did that near him. It somehow changed the color of the lights above and her dress below. Everything glowing a soft pink.

"What's going on after this?" Harry wasn't really sure of after dance procedures. This was only his second. The last one she'd left separately, and this time they hadn't attended together.

"Oh, some party upstairs." Jillian explained.

"Here? At the hotel?" Wow, some people lived completely different lives.

"Yeah, I'll bet you can come. I'll ask Will." She offered.

He wanted to go, just to extend this night, with her and that dress and the rose glow. Even if it was with two other people between them.

"Yeah, ok."

Which was how he found himself watching Steven Adler get increasingly drunk and obnoxious.

"Hey, what's your name?" He'd asked about an hour into hotel time.

"Harry, Harry Styles."

"Who invited you?" He said like the words meant nothing to him. Although he'd suggested at one point they, meaning the football team, tape Harry's butt cheeks together, to see if he lived up to his name. Apparently it would hurt a lot more if he was hairy Harry.

They'd surrounded him in the shower. He hadn't been Hairy enough to bother, and the dick jokes had run to awe. He didn't have a comparison.

Steven has known his name two weeks ago.

After that, Harry kept himself to himself. He hadn't seen much of Jillian. But Trina seemed happy, hanging on the couch with a beer in her hands and chuckles in her mouth.

An hour later, Trina was ready to go. And truly, Harry was too. But, he needed to see Jillian first. To make sure she wanted to stay, here, at the hotel, with Will. Where everybody had an agenda for after the dance.

He was going from room to room in the hallway the athletes had seemed to have planned to take up. All the doors were opened and people spilled out. None of them Jillian.

It took him 20 minutes of panic to find her. She was coming out of the last room. Her cheeks were tear stained, and her eyes were bloodshot. Grass maybe was his first thought. He knew she'd been experimenting, that they had talked about.

"Harry!" Her voice broke with relief and over a sob like wave.

"Jillian!bWhat's wrong?"

She just shook her head. There were too many people around.

"Where's Will?"

Her chin lifted then. "In his room, alone." The last word was so final he just paused, and moved into a new paragraph.

"Let's find Trina. So we can get out of here?"

Jillian bit her nails near the elevator bank, looking toward the end of the hallway and back to the room across from it where Harry had left Trina. He could feel her eyes on him as he searched.

Luckily, his date was where he had left her. Talking to classmates and smiling drunkenly.

"Hey, you ready?"

"Yeah, let me grab my purse. Everything cool, man?"

"Yeah, fine. Just late." He demurred.

The ride home nobody spoke. Too tired or caught up in their emotions. It was half an hour and the girls were drooping on each other's shoulders when he reached Trina's.

She was past the turn off for Jillian's, and he hoped nobody noticed. He tried not to think much about it. But, he wanted to ask his best girl where she wanted to go. And he wanted to know why she'd not been in the party rooms, why she left Will, and most importantly why she'd been crying?

He hugged Trina at the door, and they decided to go bowling together the week after. "You should ask Jillian." Trina had said as he headed down the walk.

"Yeah, if she's off, and not with Will." He'd shrugged as he turned back with his hands in his pockets.

"No, Harry." She leveled sober eyes on him. "You should ask Jillian, whatever it is you need to ask her. Forget Will." She suggested and grinned drunkenly before swaying through her door and closing it too loud for 2 am.

Ask Jillian. Forget Will.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #summer’s child #chapter 5 #angel of the morning #tripod writing #cult fic #vintage #retro fic #1960’s #1970’s

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echoes-of-realities · 6 years ago

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be my fire in the cold (and I'll be waiting by the mistletoe) - 14/25

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[From the Start] // [Fanfiction] // [ao3]

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Chapter Summary: Santana invites Brittany to go with her today; Brittany learns a little bit more about Santana, and finds herself hard pressed to hide that she’s definitely falling in love with her.

Notes: This is for the people that have a hard time around the holidays because they’re missing people, or something fell apart for them, or went through something life changing, because as much as I absolutely love Christmastime, I’m missing lots of people in my life and it always gets hard around this time. This is the second Christmas without my grandma, and it’s hard to remember that she’s never going to kick my ass in a game of crib; it’s been thirteen Christmases since my dad left and even if it doesn’t hurt anymore it’s so weird to me; and the my sister is facing the possibility of another tumour. So believe me when I say that I know that this time of year can be Hard when your missing people or going through something difficult, but it’s also the only time of year all fourteen members of my family—and whatever other stragglers and dogs we drag in from the cold—are all in the same town long enough to spend time together eating too much food and trash talking each other during games of cards, so I still love it more than any other time of year.

So to those who are missing loved ones at the table this year, to those whose lives changed drastically, to those who suffered failure after failure, and to those who’ve faced so much pain that they didn’t think that they’d ever get through, but still did; this is to say that I know the holidays can be hard this time of year, but that you’re loved and you deserve to let yourself be happy.

It’ll get easier as the years go by, I promise.

Chapter 14: but somewhere in winter misery

///

It’s Brittany’s phone ringing that wakes her up, and she rolls over with a grunt and blindly gropes her bedside table until she locates the annoying loud and annoyingly bright object and squints at it. The sun’s up, but only technically, and her phone casts her dim room in too much light, but the picture of Santana laughing that Brittany had snuck last week greets her and every ounce of annoyance in her body melts away.

She quickly swipes her thumb across the screen, fumbling a couple times to get it to respond, before raising it to her ear. “Hi,” she mumbles, sinking back into her pillow, the dark wrapping around her like another heavy blanket.

“Hey,” Santana greets quietly, “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

Brittany debates lying, but she’s pretty sure Santana would somehow know. “Yeah, but it’s fine.”

“Sorry,” Santana mumbles.

There’s a long moment of silence as they just breathe together, long enough that Brittany pulls her phone from her ear to make sure it’s still connected; as soon as she processes the date at the top of her screen her heart clenches and she’s suddenly wide awake. “You okay?” Brittany whispers.

Santana hesitates a little before she answers. “I’ve been better, obviously. But, uh, honestly? I think I might be. Getting there, at least.” She’s quiet for a moment, and when she continues speaking Brittany can hear the small smile in her voice. “Talking to you about her yesterday helped. A lot, actually.”

“I’m glad,” Brittany says earnestly. “It was really cool to hear you talk about her. She sounds like she was amazing.”

“Yeah,” Santana says simply, “She really was.”

Brittany hums and waits for Santana to continue. She knows Santana called her for a reason, and Brittany’s content just to patiently wait.

“Listen,” Santana says, and there’s movement on the other end as fabric shifts and scratches together, “I was wondering if you wanted to maybe come with me today? To, um— To visit her grave.” Before Brittany can even blink, Santana’s already rambling on, breathlessly and nervously; it sounds like she might be pacing. “I mean— I just— You don’t have to, you know, if you don’t want to. You just— You make me feel calmer and like— I dunno I just feel more settled or whatever but you— I mean I— Just forget I—”

“Santana,” Brittany interrupts and Brittany can hear the click of teeth as Santana snaps her mouth closed, “I’d love to go.”

Santana sucks in a sharp breath. “Really?” she asks shyly.

“Of course,” Brittany says softly, “If it’s important to you, it’s important to me too.”

“Cool,” Santana whispers, but Brittany can hear the small smile in her voice.

“What time? And where do you wanna meet?”

There’s more shifting of fabric, and it sounds like Santana’s sat down. She wonders if she’s on the couch or in her bed, if she slept well last night, if Brittany should have done more than give her a hug when they left the theatre yesterday. “Um. The show’s at eight tonight,” she deliberates aloud, “and we’ve gotta be there around two. And it’s a bit of a trip to the cemetery, and I uh— I always stop to get lunch at this café in the neighbourhood, if— If you want to, I mean.”

“I’d love to,” Brittany says quietly.

“Okay,” Santana continues on a breathy sigh of relief, and Brittany smiles a little because Santana’s so soft and bashful and adorable when you really get to know her, “So meet me at my apartment at ten then? That’ll give us plenty of time.”

“I’ll see you then,” Brittany promises.

“Bye, Britt,” Santana murmurs, “And— Thanks. For coming with me.”

“Of course. Bye,” Brittany says softly, waiting until Santana’s hung up before she sighs, high and dreamy.

Brittany allows herself a little bit to lay there and stare up at the ceiling before forcing herself to sit up, stumbling through her room until she makes it to the door. She can hear Mercedes in the kitchen making coffee and singing along to the speakers. She’s been listening to some Spotify playlist of Christmas songs for the last couple weeks now, and today is starting out with some Coldplay as Brittany emerges into the kitchen.

“Morning,” she calls softly, not wanting to startle Mercedes.

It doesn’t work, because Mercedes jumps and almost throws the spoon she’s using to stir her coffee across the kitchen as she spins around. “Brittany,” she shrieks, “You just about gave me a damn heart attack.”

Brittany scrunches her face up in apology. “Sorry, I was trying to avoid that. But you know what they say about heart attacks.”

“Jeez,” Mercedes says breathlessly, clutching her chest. “At this point if I loved you anymore I’d need a casket.”

Brittany winces a little. It’s not like Mercedes would ever know why that hits a little close to home today, so she just heads further into the kitchen. She figures she can have a cup of coffee and maybe a bowl of cereal before she gets ready.

“What are you doing up so early?” Mercedes asks once she’s finally regained her composure and Brittany’s already shoved a coffee cup under the Keurig.

“I’m meeting up with Santana,” Brittany explains, sniffing the milk before she starts pouring it into her cereal. She sets it up on the kitchen island in front of her usual stool with a spoon before exchanging the milk for the coffee creamer.

Mercedes’ face splits into a wide smirk and she nudges Brittany with her elbow. “Really?” she says suggestively. “You’re meeting with Santana?”

“Yeah,” Brittany says simply. She turns to grab her coffee from underneath the Keurig when Mercedes’ gentle hand on her arm stops her.

“Hey,” she says softly. “Is everything okay? You’re really quiet this morning. And usually you’re a blushing mess when I mention Santana.”

Brittany hesitates because, while this is her very best friend and she trusts her with everything and she knows Mercedes would never say a word, she doesn’t want to betray Santana’s trust. “Everything’s fine,” she says slowly, trying to keep her explanation really vague, “But it’s just— Santana asked me to go with her to do something really personal and she’s really sad about it.”

Mercedes is quiet for a long moment, searching Brittany’s eyes before she finally smiles softly. “I get why you aren’t telling me everything,” she says, “But can I offer some advice?”

Brittany nods quickly.

“Take some flowers,” Mercedes suggests.

Brittany blinks, wondering how in the world Mercedes could even know that she had been quietly debating whether or not it was appropriate to bring flowers for Santana’s mom. Instead, she just wraps Mercedes in a hug and murmurs her thanks into her hair.

Mercedes holds her tightly for a moment before releasing her with a playful poke in Brittany’s stomach. “Now hurry up and eat before your cereal gets soggy.”

Brittany gasps and glances over at her bowl, only to find that it’s definitely too late. “Damnit,” she mutters, and Mercedes just giggles beside her.

///

The air is freezing when she steps out of her apartment, the cold instantly taking her breath away and burning the inside of her nose. A thin layer of white covers the city and her breath mists in front of her face in tiny clouds, dissipating even before she can walk through it. She shoves her hands deep into her pocket and heads in the direction of Santana’s apartment, looking for the small florist shop that Mercedes found for her while she showered.

When she finds it, tucked between a hair salon and a thrift store, the shop is empty, but the bell above the door prompts someone to call “I’ll be with you in a moment!” from the back.

Brittany wanders the shop, more than a little overwhelmed by all the choices and colours, flowers she can barely recognize let alone name and every single combination of colours she could ever imagine. She scans rows and rows of flowers, each more beautiful than the last, until she spots a bouquet tucked away behind a bunch of others; it’s nowhere near as big as the others around it, in fact it’s kind of small, but that’s what catches her attention. There’s so many flowers she doesn’t recognize, but it’s the blue forget-me-nots spotting the white carnations and the gladioli that catches her eye. She carefully extracts it from the others and fingers the petals of a cluster of forget-me-nots. She already knows it’s perfect, but she carefully inspects the flowers to make sure, before heading to the cash register just as the florist exits the back.

“Sorry about that,” he says, dusting his hands on his apron. “I see you’ve already found something.”

Brittany just nods and hands the bouquet over, digging through her jacket pocket to find her wallet.

“Flowers for a special someone?” the florist says suggestively as he rings the bouquet up. “Twenty-nine ninety-nine.”

Brittany fumbles for a moment before shrugging. “For her mom, actually,” she clarifies as she holds up her debit card. The florist hits a button on the cash register and Brittany waits for the debit machine to respond.

“Ah,” he says knowingly, “Meeting the in-laws then.”

“Something like that,” Brittany agrees vaguely, punching in her pin and forcing herself not to take out her card too early as she is wont to do.

The florist must sense something in Brittany’s answer because he studies Brittany for a long moment before smiling a little. “Well, if you’re nervous I know this will make a good first impression,” he says, handing the bouquet, now slipped into protective plastic, and the receipt over, “But the only thing that really matters is that they know you’re making their little girl happy.”

Brittany flusters, and a part of her wants to explain everything; that her and Santana aren’t actually— That they’re not— At least not yet—

She wants to explain that she won’t be showing up to Santana’s mom’s house with a bottle of wine and a desperate hope that she’ll accept Brittany.

She wants to explain that they’re spending the morning out in the bitter cold instead, staring at cold grey when they should be laughing with warm brown eyes.

But instead Brittany just smiles gracefully and takes the bouquet with a murmur of thanks and quietly leaves the store, carefully tucking the bouquet against her jacket to protect the flowers from the winter wind and heading down the street.

///

Santana’s huddled in the lobby when Brittany arrives fifteen minutes early, and she spots Brittany out the window of the front door and quickly hurries to greet her. Brittany’s still on the steps when Santana opens the door, and Santana’s small smile of greeting falters at the sight of the flowers in Brittany’s arms, the door swinging shut behind her with a resolute thud. Brittany flusters and chews on her lip, her blush burning her cheeks even more fiercely than usual because her skin is so cold. “I—” she starts and then breaks off when Santana’s smile comes back, somehow softer and more tender than Brittany’s ever seen.

“Is that for my mom?” she whispers.

Brittany searches for her voice but finds it curled up somewhere deep in her chest so she just nods wordlessly.

Santana’s eyes catch on hers, melting and liquid and deep like molasses. She closes the distance between them, her hand landing on Brittany’s ice cold one where it cradles the stems of the flowers. She’s taller than Brittany for once, standing at the top of the stairs and Brittany still a couple steps down, and Brittany nearly stops breathing as Santana leans down, her face drawing impossibly closer to hers.

Brittany’s heart pounds so fast she thinks she might be having a heart attack.

Santana’s lips are achingly soft as they brush over Brittany’s numb cheek, burning Brittany’s skin with their warmth and waking up every single nerve ending until they’re all tuned to Santana, and Brittany gasps at the gentle pressure. When Santana draws back, she’s still smiling softly, her eyes melting and liquid and deep.

“Thank you,” she murmurs.

Brittany’s voice, as well as most coherent thought, remains lost somewhere deep inside her, so she just nods dumbly. Santana’s smile widens a little and she steps down beside Brittany, nodding down the street. “If we hurry we can catch the next train,” she says.

Brittany trails after Santana and tries to gather her scattered thoughts, but when Santana shoots her a shy smile over her shoulder Brittany realizes she’s probably never going to collect them ever again, and she’s kind of okay with that.

///

The café is tiny and its doorway is tucked around the corner, but it’s warm and homey inside and Brittany’s legs immediately start prickling painfully as they’re exposed to the wave of warmth in the café.

Santana gasps beside her. “God that feels nice,” she says, turning her face up to the heater above the doorway.

Brittany stomps the snow off her boots and blows quick puffs of hot air into her one hand, her other arm occupied with cradling the flowers. “It hurts,” she whines.

Santana smiles at Brittany. “Let me buy you a coffee then,” she offers, “It’ll warm you up.”

Brittany tips her head to the side, squinting and scanning the menu hanging above the front counter. She bounces up on the balls of her feet, the burning in her thighs forgotten as she reads the options; she reaches over and grabs Santana’s arm with a wide grin. “Can I try the caramel hot chocolate instead?” she asks excitedly, “I haven’t had one in forever.”

Santana smiles and agrees. There’s a couple people scattered around the café, but no one in line so Santana steps right up to the counter. A college aged kid is dancing a little as he cleans the counter, his back to them and large headphones around his neck, singing quietly under his breath, his voice smooth with just a hint of a growl. Santana whistles to get his attention and he jolts at the sound, spinning around with an embarrassed and wide-eyed look. He relaxes as soon as he sees Santana and his face ripples as he tries to adopt a stern look around his grin. “You’ve gotta stop doing that,” he grumbles.

Santana just smirks at him, completely unapologetic. “Maybe you need to stop blasting that noise you call music through your headphones when you’re working, Mr. Full Ride Music Scholarship,” she teases.

The kid’s eyes roll before sliding to take in Brittany and the flowers and snapping back to Santana, his eyes close to bulging as his jaw slackens a little, parting full lips. “A caramel hot chocolate and a café con leche,” Santana says before the kid can even say anything, and as Brittany glances at Santana out of the corner of her eye she can see the slight flush to her cheeks.

The kid seems to notice this too and smirks but doesn’t push Santana further. “Names for the drinks?” he asks playfully.

“I Used to Hold Your Hand to Cross the Street and None of Your Business,” Santana snarks.

The kid’s smirk turns a little wicked and his eyes slide back to Brittany. “That’s a little long,” he says with barely contained seriousness, “Do you go by nicknames?”

“Watch it or I’ll—”

“Brittany and Santana,” Brittany interrupts. Santana looks at Brittany with exaggerated betrayal but Brittany just bumps her hip against Santana’s until her face creases into a dimpled smile.

“How much?” Santana asks as she turns back to the kid, digging her wallet out of her jacket pocket.

“On the house,” the kid says easily.

Santana seems to know better than to argue, so she just grins her thanks and ushers Brittany to the pick-up counter.

“So how do you know about this place?” Brittany asks.

“It was mami’s favourite café,” Santana explains, giving a warm smile as she glances around the café before meeting Brittany’s eyes, her voice lifting with rehearsed cheer, “Best café con leche in the whole damn city.” It sounds both quoted and comfortable, and Brittany wishes, not for the first time, that she got a chance to meet the woman who raised Santana.

“It’s cute,” Brittany says softly. Santana beams at her and shifts a little until their arms press together and doesn’t make any move to pull away.

“Roderick’s dad owns the café,” Santana explains, nodding at the kid as he starts making their drinks, “I’ve been coming here since we moved to the city and Roderick was still a dorky kid in elementary school. Now he’s just a dorky kid in his first year of college.”

“Hey!” Roderick protests, pointing an accusatory finger at Santana, the tea towel in his hand swinging lazily between them across the counter, “I resent that.” Santana sticks her tongue out at Roderick, who sticks his tongue out right back as his face twists in a mock sneer, much to the horror of the old woman who just stepped up to the cash register. Roderick flushes at being caught making fun of a customer, and abandons Santana and Brittany’s drinks to take the old woman’s order.

“I used to babysit him sometimes,” Santana continues. “When we first moved here my mom only worked a point eight, and we were kinda struggling to make ends meet. But she came in here one day for a coffee and her and Roderick’s father got to talking, and he ended up hiring her part-time while we got our footing in the city, so I spent a lot of time here doing homework or whatever. In exchange for free coffee I’d babysit Roderick a couple times a week.”

Brittany’s lips curl up in a smile as she glances at Roderick, who now dwarves Santana in stature. “That’s cute,” she says honestly.

Santana laughs. “He was a good kid. Just don’t tell him I said that.”

Brittany smirks. “You’re cute when you’re pretending you’re not, like, the biggest softie,” she observes.

Santana instantly flusters, ducking her head down to hide her dimples. “Oh, shut up you,” she mumbles.

Brittany just grins and resists the urge to wrap Santana, blushing face and all, into a tight hug; the flowers in her arms would make hugging her difficult and help her resist the urge, though not by much.

///

They end up having a second cup of coffee and hot chocolate together, sharing a pastry as they people watch. Santana talks about her mom a little more, and Brittany notices its with more nostalgia than pain, but mostly they just enjoy the other’s company outside of the theatre, complaining about the show and the company and making fun of people passing on the street and sitting a little too close to be entirely friendly.

They linger in the café for perhaps longer than they should, because they’ll probably end up being a little late to the theatre depending on how long they spend at the cemetery, but Brittany can’t find it in herself to regret it as they stand to leave. Before Santana can, Brittany quickly grabs her jacket off the back of her seat and helps her into it, feeling even more couple-y than she has all day doing couple-y things with her. Santana smiles, dimples deep and nose scrunched, up at Brittany as she slips her arms into her jacket before winding her own scarf around her neck while Brittany grabs the flowers off the table. Santana takes their dirty cups to the bucket of dirty dishes by the napkins and spices and lids while Brittany trails after her to the door.

Roderick stops them before they leave to pull Santana into a tight hug; Santana protests and rolls her eyes, but as soon as she’s wrapped in his embrace she softens. “My dad wishes he could have been here to see you today too but he’s got some business meeting he couldn’t get out of,” he whispers, and Brittany quickly averts her eyes, feeling a little bit like an intruder. “He’s missed you.”

Santana sighs into Roderick’s shoulder. “I missed him too, both of you. I just—”

“I know,” Roderick interrupts quickly. “We get it, but you should stop by more often.” Roderick’s eyes slide to Brittany over Santana’s shoulder and he gives her a shy smile. “I’m sure my dad would love to meet Brittany.”

Brittany doesn’t need to see Santana’s face to know it’s breathless and flushed and too bright, because she can feel a blush crawling hotly along her own cheeks and down into her neck. Roderick gives Santana one more squeeze before letting her go and Brittany and Santana’s eyes catch briefly before averting as they both laugh breathlessly, blushing furiously, and leave the café.

Santana turns left as soon as they’re on the sidewalk, the bitter cold stealing the air from their lungs and the gently falling snow dusting Santana’s hair like stars in a night sky, silent for half a block before they both start talking at once.

“I’m sorry about that—”

“It’s fine, really I—”

“They’ve just never met anyone I—”

“They seem really nice—”

“They’re going to be super embarrassing—”

“I’d really like to meet Roderick’s dad now too—”

They both pause in their rambling and meet each other’s eyes before bursting into giggles, both of their cheeks pink with more than the cold. “Really?” Santana says, unable to hide the pleased and hopeful gleam to her eyes.

“Totally,” Brittany promises, chewing on her lip for a moment. “I have a feeling they have all kinds of embarrassing teenage Santana stories,” she teases.

“Oh god,” Santana groans, burying her face in her hands, “I can’t believe that slipped my mind.”

Brittany nudges Santana with her elbow. “Hey,” she says softly, waiting until Santana’s peaking at her from behind her hands, “I don’t want to know those stories because they’re embarrassing, I want to know them because they’re what made you you, and I want to know everything about you.”

Santana’s hands drop from her face and she shakes her head softly at Brittany, her expression unbelieving, her smile soft and sweet enough that Brittany’s heart starts to ache with how beautiful Santana is and how much she really, really, really likes being around her. Neither of them look away until they almost run straight into another couple walking down the sidewalk, and they both laugh a little as they finally look away and focus on walking. They’re mostly quiet as Santana leads them through the neighbourhood, occasionally exchanging soft smiles or guiding the other out of the way of another pedestrian with a gentle hand on the small of their back.

They turn a corner and Santana’s sucks in a sharp breath. Brittany follows her gaze until she spots the sign above the cemetery, high above the neighbourhood and easily seen even from blocks away, and Brittany’s chest clenches.

“Sometimes I just can’t believe she’s gone,” Santana suddenly mumbles, “That I can’t just call her up and tell her about whatever dumb thing happened at the theatre, or that she won’t ever call me to complain about what drunk patient she had to deal with. That I haven’t heard her ringtone in four years. That I have to visit her at a cemetery now and I can’t just show up unannounced at our old apartment in Washington Heights because someone else has moved in— Has lived there for years,” Santana corrects. Santana’s silent for a long time, studying the ground as they walk. She finally sucks in a shuddering breath and glances up at Brittany, giving her a tiny smile, her eyes both warm and heartsick. “I just miss her,” she says simply.

Brittany doesn’t know what to say, so she just gives Santana a soft smile and makes a small acknowledging sound, which seems to be the right move because Santana just smiles back and presses closer to Brittany as they near the cemetery in silence.

Santana slips her hand into Brittany’s as soon as the iron wrought gate comes into view. Brittany sucks in a sharp breath before breathing it out in a puff of white, glancing down at Santana only to find Santana already staring up at her. Her brown eyes are a little pained, but mostly they’re soft and adoring as she looks up at Brittany. “She would have liked you, you know,” Santana says with a small smile.

Brittany’s pretty sure her heart stops beating; she definitely stops breathing, and her mind kind of goes a little haywire at the words. Santana’s told her all about what an amazing woman her mom was, and the idea that she— That Santana’s mom— That she would have—

“Really?” she manages on a gasp.

Santana nods and squeezes Brittany’s fingers where they’re tangled with her own. “You make me happy,” she says, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world, and Brittany supposes it kind of is.

She sighs and melts and smiles softly at Santana. “I wish I could have met her,” she admits quietly, “But I kind of feel like I already have, in the way you talk about her. And how you are, because she raised you.” They draw to a stop in front of the gate, the snowy grass crunching beneath their feet. She turns to Santana, tugging gently on their clasped hands until Santana is facing her. “But, I still would have loved to meet her. Because you make me happy too. And I think,” she pauses for a moment, gathering her thoughts because this is important and she wants to make sure she gets it right, “I think that she would have liked to know that. Not just that there’s someone that makes you happy, but that there’s someone who you make happy too. That— That you can share your happiness with someone.”

Santana’s smile widens a little as she ducks her head. “She definitely would have liked you,” she mumbles, glancing up at Brittany from beneath her eyelashes. “I’m glad you came with me today,” she admits, “This year feels less— Absolute, I guess, that she’s gone. I— This is the first year that I haven’t felt like there’s this empty, aching hole in my chest and I— I’m just really glad you’re here.”

Brittany tugs gently on Santana’s hand until she’s falling into Brittany’s body, their thick jackets scratching together as Brittany wraps her free arm around Santana and pulls her into the cradle of her body, the flowers falling somewhere by Santana’s shoulder blade. Santana sighs into the collar of Brittany’s jacket, tightening her own arm around her waist, the fingers of their other hands still hopelessly tangled. “I’m really glad I’m here too,” Brittany whispers into the dampness of Santana’s hair, the snow dusted waves cold against her chin even though her chest burns with a gentle warmth.

Santana sighs again as she finally draws back, tightening her grip on Brittany’s hand, as if Brittany would ever actually let go of her. “Come on,” she prompts gently as she leads them to the gate, “Let’s go see her.”

#brittana #brittany pierce #santana lopez #glee #brittana fanfiction #glee fanfiction #there's another character in here that I wanna tag but I don't want to spoil it lmao #I might go back and change the tag Later #my writing #story: be my fire in the cold (and I'll be waiting by the mistletoe)#okay so I didn't know finding a cemetery--let alone a plot in a cemetery--in manhattan was so hard???#so I took Artistic Liberties with that part lmao #also bonus points to anyone who knows what song I mentioned early on in the fic and catches the second reference to it #because that's what I listened to while writing the last couple chapters

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jos-corner-of-the-world · 7 years ago

Text

Unexpected - {22}

{21}

“You should move to Korea. Help choreograph dances for us.” Yoongi said bluntly.

“Yeah, okay.” you laughed. But then you realized Yoongi wasn’t laughing.

“Wait, you’re serious. Why the hell are you serious right now?!”

“I can’t do that.” you said immediately.

“Why not?” Yoongi asked. “You’ve moved before.”

“Yeah, to a different state, not a whole different country. You’ve lost your damn mind.” you told him.

“I really don’t think I have. It would be a hard transition, but I think you guys could do it. If you wanted of course. They’d take care of all the accommodations for you guys while you got settled and find a good school for Lily close to the studio. You wouldn’t have to travel much unless you wanted to.”

“There are so many reasons that this isn’t going to work.” you told Yoongi.

“Do you want to tell me those reasons?” Yoongi asked. You noticed that he didn’t seem mad, or surprised even, that you didn’t think it would work.

“For starters, Lily and I would be completely lost. Lily would have to go to a school where she doesn’t speak the native language. Not to mention with how outspoken she is, do you really think she’s gonna fit in somewhere where there are barriers in language? Not to mention we’ll be alone. We’ll have no one.”

“You’ll have me.” Yoongi said softly.

“I know that. I really do. But you have to look at this realistically. It would never work out, us moving there.” you told him honestly.

You wanted nothing more than to throw caution to the wind and tell him you’d absolutely drop everything and move there. But you couldn’t. There was so much to take into consideration, and you just knew it wouldn’t work. Being cautious came second nature to you as a mother. You always had to keep the stability of your home in mind the best you could when making life decisions.

“I’m really sorry. But I can’t do it.” you told him.

“Don’t be sorry. I would have been more surprised if you had agreed to it, or even thought about it. When your name was mentioned, I’m not gonna lie, I was excited. But I knew that it was a long shot.”

“Are you mad at me?” you asked him.

“How could I be mad at you?” Yoongi asked, surprised you thought so.

“I don’t know. It’s a nice idea in theory, but it’s just….” you trailed off.

“I know. Trust me, I know.”

The night wasn’t dampened by the conversation from earlier, but you knew the both of you were still thinking about it.

You watched a couple of movies and cuddled up on the couch for a few hours before you ended up falling asleep, nestled close to Yoongi. He woke you up sometime later and helped you to your room before letting himself out, locking the door behind him.

Once he was gone, you unfortunately were wide awake.

The idea of being close to Yoongi was a very enticing one. But you knew that realistically, you would struggle too much for it to be a valid option. You had so much to take into account with any move, big or small. But a move of this caliber was something you didn’t think you were ready for, or would ever be.

You just had to remember that Yoongi would be as close as the internet allowed him to be. Phone calls, Skype, and watching his charismatic live performances when they appeared.

The next week flew by faster than you would have liked it to. You spent the mornings with Clara, helping her pack and just being with her, the afternoons at the studio, and your nights were spent with Yoongi and Lily.

It was a pattern you had fallen into seamlessly, but one that would have to be adjusted rather soon.

The night before Clara and Tom left, they had taken everyone out for dinner, the guys included.

It was a nice loud evening full of laughter, stories, and just a warm loving feeling throughout.

Lily had stuck close to Clara the whole night, knowing they had to say goodbye in the morning. Lily had decided that the two of you needed to go to the airport to see them off, not that you hadn’t planned on that anyway.

After dinner, you stood outside talking to Clara for a few moments before heading home.

“You sure you want to drive us there?” Clara asked.

“It’s no problem. You guys had most of your stuff sent there already and my car can accommodate all five of us, plus some of your luggage.” you told her.

“Five?” she questioned.

You blushed, looking down.

“Ah. Is there a handsome young man joining you tomorrow?” she asked.

“Yeah. He offered, and I wasn’t in a state to tell him no.” you told her.

“I’m glad he’ll be there for you guys. Tom is going to have to drag me away kicking and screaming.” she joked.

“Yoongi is gonna have his hands full with both Lily and myself.” you laughed.

“Well, we better head home. See you guys at 8?” Clara asked.

“8? Your flight isn’t until 1:30.”

“Well, we gotta have breakfast with our girls before we leave.” Clara said, pulling you in for a hug.

“Breakfast it is. See you at 8.”

The next morning, Yoongi was at your place by 7:15. Enough time, in Lily’s opinion, to help pick out an outfit for her before you all had to leave.

“Why does she have so many clothes?” Yoongi asked after he’d come out from picking an outfit for Lily.

“Well between myself and Clara, we tend to buy a lot. There are some great thrift stores and second hand stores on this side of town so we get bundles of clothes pretty cheap. It makes her having a huge wardrobe more acceptable because I only spent a fraction of what I would have on new clothes. Plus...she loves the thrift shops because she can find a little of everything.” you told him.

“That makes sense. She’s got her own style, I like it.”

“If by style you mean she throws on whatever she gets her little paws on, then yes. She has style.”

The car ride to Clara’s was filled with Lily and Yoongi arguing about who was a better superhero.

Clara argued it was obviously Captain America, while Yoongi argued for Thor.

“He rides the lightning and has a hammer.” Yoongi argued.

“Yeah, and a ponytail.” Lily snorted. “Captain America is a good guy with a shield and cool friends.”

“I don't understand why you two are even arguing you're never going to agree on it.”

“Okay so why don't you be the deciding factor?” Yoongi suggested.

“Please don't. She will not shut up if you get her started” Lily said dramatically.

“Quite the opinion you seem to have. Okay. Who's the best superhero in Marvel?”

“Easy. Bucky Barnes.”

“The Winter Soldier? He's a villain!” Yoongi protested.

“You can get out right now and walk Min Yoongi.” You joked.

“Before momma gets angry let’s just say the best superhero is Iron Man and let it go.” Lily said diplomatically.

“Fair enough.” you and Yoongi agreed.

By the time you got to Clara’s, it had just turned 8:00.

“Right on time sweetie. I was wondering if the little miss would drag her feet this morning.” Clara said as they came out to meet you.

“Honestly, she probably would have had it not been for Yoongi.” You told Clara honestly.

“Have you given any thought to his proposition?” Clara asked you quietly as you loaded her stuff into your trunk.

“No. What is there to think about?” You asked Clara.

“Oh sweetie. There’s more to think about than you know.”

Since you and Yoongi were the shortest of the four of you, Tom ended up driving with Clara in the front seat. You and Yoongi sat in the backseat on either side of Lily. You guys ended up at a little restaurant a couple blocks away from the airport. You had a couple of hours before they needed to be there, but it would be nice to be close so you could spend the next couple of hours just being together.

Breakfast went quicker than you wanted it to. You wished in that moment that you could stop time and just be here just the five of you forever.

But you knew that wasn’t an option. Even though you knew that, it didn’t make it any easier to handle.

Unfortunately, you and Yoongi had agreed it would be safer for him to wait in the car for you and Lily. You didn’t want to take the chance that he got recognized and turn it into an awkward situation.

So Yoongi had given your hand a supportive squeeze before you got out of the car.

The mood as you walked into the airport was quite sullen, but you all pretended that it wasn’t.

You knew you and Lily wouldn’t be able to follow them for too long, so the four of you stood near a set of chairs to say your goodbyes.

“You’re gonna be really good for your momma right?” Clara asked Lily as she picked her up.

“I’m going to try.” Lily said honestly, voice wobbling slightly.

“You know I love you little one, right?” Clara asked her.

“I know. I love you too Miss Clara.” Lily said, hugging her tightly.

You and Tom had quietly said your goodbyes. He took Lily into his arms, while Clara threw her arms around you tightly.

“I feel so horrible.” Clara said.

“You shouldn’t. You’re not doing anything wrong.” you pointed out.

“I feel like I’m leaving my babies and I don’t like it.”

“We don’t like it either, but we know it’s necessary.” You said, squeezing her tighter.

“Can you...can you do me a favor?” Clara asked, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you away from her slightly.

“What’s that?” you asked as you wiped the errant tear from your cheek.

“Can you just think about Yoongi’s offer?”

“Clara you know I--” but Clara cut you off.

“I’m not telling you to do it, or even that I think you should. But I do think you should at least consider it. I know all the reasons that you said no, and they’re valid reasons. But if you really think about, you might find reasons that you could say yes too. All I’m asking is that you at least think about it, for even a little bit.” Clara said.

You wanted to protest. But you just didn’t have it in you.

“I promise that I’ll at least think about it.” you told her.

“I’m very happy to hear that.” Clara smiled.

“Honey, we have to go.” Tom said to Clara.

“Okay. Oh I don’t want to do this.” Clara said, dam finally breaking on her tears.

“I love you guys so much.” Clara said, pulling both you and Lily into a hug one more time.

“We love you too.” you cried.

You and Lily watched two of the most important people in your life walk away until you couldn’t see their figures anymore.

Get yourself together Y/n. They’re only moving you thought to yourself.

“Can we go home momma?” Lily asked.

“Of course baby. Come on, let’s get to the car.”

Yoongi saw the two of you exiting the airport. He watched sadly as you picked Lily up into your arms and carried her towards the car. You had sunglasses on, but Yoongi could still see the not yet dried tears on your face.

His instincts kicked in and he got out of the car and met you halfway.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi asked, putting an arm around your shoulder and a hand on Lily’s back.

“We just want to go home.” you told him.

Yoongi hated how helpless he felt in this situation. He knew you would be sad, but knowing it and seeing it were two totally different things.

“I’ll drop you off at the hotel.” you said as the two of you got into the car after buckling Lily up.

“That’s alright, I have the day off. If you don’t mind, I’ll come over for a bit.” Yoongi said.

“If you want. I don’t think Lily and I will be much for company though.” you told him honestly.

“I don’t mind. I’ll still get to be with the two of you.”

You just nodded your head, knowing Yoongi’s train of thought.

The clock was now ticking desperately on how much time the three of you would have together.

In just four short days, he’d be leaving too.

And then you and Lily would be alone once again.

{23}

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theepitomeofsimplicite · 7 years ago

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Hi everyone! As many of you may already know, Amsterdam is like a place I feel like home. This city is well… gold! Lacking for better words to say this simply 😉 As I was chatting via Instagram with the lovely Chloé (@chloe_mrnr), who is going to visit for the first time the Venice of the West, I was giving her my own Amsterdam city guide so I might as well share the tips with you all.

Amsterdam Centraal

Amsterdam Canal View from Amsterdam Centraal

Ok, so where would you like to start the city tour? If you are arriving by train (like me most of the times), then you are getting off from Amsterdam Central. Make sure to head outside to be mesmerized by the train station architecture once out there and you will quickly grab a sight on beautiful canals, the white and blue tram railing by, and among other things a handful of tourists. Your eyes will also intercept from a distance the church of Saint Nicholas and some covered gallery shops.

Keep walking over the canals and see from a distance the Saint Nicholas Church

Inside of Saint Nicholas Church. Free entrance!

Look at these colorful buildings hanging over the canal!

Amsterdam Centraal from a short walking distance away, admire this architecture!

Then, as you are walking further away from Amsterdam Centraal, there is the notorious Red Light District area with funky empty shops by day but at night fall, this neighborhood gets seriously busy. I still recall the awkwardness I felt when I visited this area with my mom the first time a few years back where she was describing each woman behind those recognizable red light windows as they were lacking of something she would call “normal”. I couldn’t help than laughing at this precious moment with her by having her refusing to be convinced that women are made of a variety of shapes and colors just like the sweet skittles we enjoy so much. Euhh sorry for this poor comparison, ok then I’ll skip there! Shall we?

Amsterdam is very simple to navigate through: walk, hop on the tram, or do as the Dutch; bike everywhere! The city is divided into 4 areas and I’ll start clockwise from the North West.

The North West:

Toki is a fav local coffee shop (but don’t you worry! There is business there. I just happened to take a photo when it was closed).

The street of Haarlemmerdijk is where there is lots of tiny independent designer boutiques along with delicious bakeries that have window glasses where everyone can drool over the artful pastries, delicious sandwiches, and you gotta check out all the variety of fresh Dutch bread. The locals can be proud of their breads but also the coffee is quite remarkable. One of the locals’ fav is Toki (Binnen Dommersstraat 15, 1013 HK Amsterdam), where I’d meet up with friend Kimberley (@theotherway) for coffee and cake!

Meet Kimberley! (@theotherway)

Kimberley is one of the very first Dutch women I met during my first visit to the Netherlands! Let me just start by saying that she set a very high standard for other Dutch folks haha. She is one of the sweetest and kindest person I know. I still recall meeting her over in Eindhoven de Burger (5, Kerkstraat, 5611 GH Eindhoven), where she had waited for me (Sorry!) then surprised me with the world renown Dutch Stoop waffles from Albert Heijn (a typical Dutch grocery store should you need anything) and some other goodies. I still have so many stories to share about our meet ups but let’s save it for some other post 😉

Kimberley street style is always impeccable! I wonder how she does it?!

I love strolling these streets, wouldn’t you?

A great place for a brunch is The Breakfast Club (Haarlemmerplein 31, 1013 HR Amsterdam) where Kimberley likes her pancakes haha. I also recommend strolling through the street of Haarlemmerplein where there are those tiny boutiques and lots of greens and flowers sprouting here and there in front porches of the apartments. I think it’s an Amsterdam signature landscape.

The Breakfast Club for brunch is delicious!

The Breakfast Club

Sorry, I couldn’t help to creep snapped a photo of these Dutch girls as they wore the exact same things as I was and found that twinning was funny (striped top, jeans, and Celine trio) 😉

Other great coffee spot is Café Thijssen (Brouwersgracht 107, 1015 GD Amsterdam) but also great for late night bites. This is where I met up on the terrace with friend Nikki (@sartreuse). After shopping, you may get great pizzas at de Pizzabakkers (Haarlemmerdijk 128, 1013 JJ Amsterdam).You must check out the Movies (Haarlemmerdijk 161, 1013 KH Amsterdam)! Aside from catching a movie, you can have a romantic dinner too!

Meet Nicki (@sartreuse)

de PizzaBakkers is a fav local place!

And the pizzas are delicious at de PizzaBakkers 🙂

at The Movies

At the Movies is a place for movies but food too!!

Some interesting architecture

The North:

In the Northern area, it’s easy to find A’dam Toren (Overhoeksplein 23-B, 1031 KS Amsterdam) because it’s a very tall modernistic building. There, take the elevator which has cool light shows (each elevator gives a different experience) all the way to the 20th floor and the observatory deck offers a sweeping 360º view over Amsterdam and the river and if you ain’t afraid of heights and seeking a thrilling experience then you can try to get on the red sensational swings where you get to be propelled in the air over the edge of the building. A tad bit scary in my opinion! There is good ambiance there for night out with drinks and clubs. Downstairs though, there is the Butcher for burgers and fish chips with a beautiful bar setup right in the middle of an arcade. For culture, nearby there is the EYE Filmmuseum (IJpromenade 1, 1031 KT Amsterdam).

Sweeping view of Amstedam from A’dam Toren penthouse

Not afraid of heights, then try out these swings at the A’dam Toren! It’s the highest swing in Europe!

The Butcher’s Fish n Chips and yummy burger

The Butcher Bar overlooking at the river has an arcade there

The East:

On my last trip, I went to this English place for brunch at Bakers & Roasters (Kadijksplein 16, 1018 AC Amsterdam) to meet with Kimberley and Silvana (@saisonlune). In need for green space, there are Hortus Botanicus (Plantage Middenlaan 2a, 1018 DD Amsterdam) and the Oosterparkbuurt. Oh check out the Skylounge for a great view and a great drink (Oosterdoksstraat 4, 1011 DK Amsterdam). After a visit to the park, there is time for shopping at the Waterlooplein Market (Waterlooplein 2, 1011 AL Amsterdam).

Bakers & Roasters

Bakers & Roasters’ crumble eggs and green juice are delicious. Very friendly staff!

Oosterparkbuurt is very relaxing

WaterloopleinMarkt

WaterloopleinMarkt has lots of jewelry, interior decor, and more!

The South:

Park Museumsplein

Rijksmuseum

This is the cultured area where we have many museums to visit like Van Gogh Museum and the beautiful Rijksmuseum. Don’t forget to take a break in between and stroll around the Park Museumsplein for a break. Are you now ready to shop, then go to Albert Cuyp Market (Albert Cuypstraat, 1073 BD Amsterdam).

Ok, now the real break to me is here at the Sweet Cup (Lange Leidsedwarsstraat 93HS, 1017 NH Amsterdam) where they make the best coffee in town in my mind. But then, others might say the Bocca Coffee (Kerkstraat 96HS, 1017 GP Amsterdam) is better maybe because the baristas are hotties. Hmmm I don’t really know why would some people think this place serves coffee best haha.

Bocca

Bocca coffees

Wait, there is far more so if you need to stay over the night, the Hoxton (Herengracht 255, 1016 BJ Amsterdam)!! There is great breakfast with yummy avocado toasts and carrot juice, and some cool kitchen to host parties like this wine tasting tour I once attended.

The Hoxton Bar

The Hoxton brunch!

If you are in the mood for shopping in quirky boutiques in this area, go along de 9 Straatjes (Wolvenstraat 9, 1016 EM Amsterdam). But I also personally like to stop by my fav designer spots such as Loves Stories for the sleepwear, and Filippa K for the essential wear.

When dinner time is ringing, I’d go to San George (Stadhouderskade 7, 1054 ES Amsterdam). The staffs speak loud Italian and the pasta is just beyond words can describe. See the pics for yourself! But I also recall my double date with Silvana here at Caffe Restaurant Panini (Vijzelgracht 3, 1017 HM Amsterdam) a while ago.

San George pastas are delicious!

The West:

The Breakfast Club Brunch!

Some of my favorite things to do in Amsterdam are if you haven’t already noticed eat and drink hahaha which may explain the weight gained. To satisfy my taste bud, thanks goodness there is Foohallen (Bellamyplein 51, 1053 AT Amsterdam) where anyone can find whatever he or she desires (sushi, small bites of tapas, sandwiches, beers, wine, cocktails, tacos, and even ramen). I last went with my frenchies Jo, Adrien, and Yohann. If you like thrifting and need art works for the interiors, I’m sure you will like de Hallen (Hannie Dankbaarpassage 47, 1053 RT Amsterdam).

Foodhallen

Ramen & Beer!

Back to The Center:

Jordaan District (Rozengracht 76I, 1016 NE Amsterdam) I think is really cool! The narrow canals and streets there are filled with indie boutiques, cozy pubs and hipster eateries. At Noordermarkt square market there are stalls that sell jewelry, clothes, antiques and even organic food. But this is not just for the hipsters, there are also galleries in the area for innovative contemporary art. Other attractions include the Houseboat Museum and the Amsterdam Cheese Museum. Hmm must have Gouda cheese! But I also like Waterlooplein Market (Waterlooplein 2, 1011 AL Amsterdam) for more second hand stuff and quirky finds. And if you are hungry (like me, I’m hungry all the time!!!), Cut Throat is a barber shop brunch & Bar (Beursplein 5, 1012 JW Amsterdam) where the beau gets his hair done while I get food and drinks haha.

At Cut Throat

Cut Throat Brunch

If you can’t get enough of Amsterdam yet, supplemental guides can be found below just for you my friends:

Handy Guide: iamsterdam

Handy Book for the foodies: The Amsterdam Gourmet

Amsterdam Hi everyone! As many of you may already know, Amsterdam is like a place I feel like home.

#Amsterdam #Brunch #City Break #City Guide #Coffee Shops #Europe #Life #The Breakfast Club #The Netherlands #Travel

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pixieposts · 4 years ago

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Broken Like Me

TW: alcohol abuse, drug use (weed), mentions of past drug addiction, intrusive thoughts, suicidal idealization

Caleb Widogast did not want to die. Not in the slightest, he knew what “wanting to die” felt like, and this wasn’t it.

He had wanted to die when his parents burned in their beds because he ratted out the wrong professor. He had wanted to die when he was living on the streets, veins pumped with enough poison to turn every face into those of his family.

He had wanted to die when Veth had taken that poison away and he had been forced back into his own mind for the first time in years.

So no, Caleb Widogast did not want to die.

His reason for being in this dingy bar, on a stool older than he was, with yet another double of whiskey in front of him was much less dramatic. He just didn’t want to think anymore. He didn’t want to think about how despite having more money than he had ever dreamed of, and a job he genuinely loved, and a name that was well known in Arcane circles, he was miserable.

Yes, his best friend had moved not just out of Zadash but right out of the Empire to be with her husband, then gotten pregnant and stopped calling. And yes, he had a hell of a messy break-up not three weeks later with the drow he thought he would spend his life with. And yes, his other best friend was looking at him with a mix of pity and anger that she nearly always wore around him now… but he didn’t want to die.

So, that was something.

“Caleb” Beau grumbled, tugging the empty glass away from him “go home, you’re drunk as fuck and I know for a fact that you work tomorrow”

“So d’you” his words were slurred, but that was to be expected

“Yeah, but I’m not drunk” she sighed “let me call you a cab”

“Nein Beauregard” he glared at both of her “I am fine, wunderbar even. All I need is for you to refill that for me”

He tapped the glass in her hand, missing and getting her hand instead. Ah well, the point would still get across. She rolled her eyes, but refilled the glass anyway.

“Danke” he downed half of it and stood up “I will be back, do not take that away”

She snapped a salute before flipping him off, he managed a smirk in response.

He stumbled out the door into the cold winter air, it had started snowing lightly while he’d been inside… he would need to pick up some Winterscrest gifts to send to Veth and her family. He wondered drunkenly what on Exandria you bought for a six month old while he lit his cigarette, savouring the first drag. He leaned against the crumbling brick wall and stared up at the cloudy sky, he could just make out the nearly full moon above him.

Caleb had always liked winter, it was colder up north where he was from and the farm always looked like a post card by the time he got home for the winter holidays. It had been a beautiful spot.

He sighed, putting out his half-finished smoke and flicking it into the garbage can. So much for not thinking. He sat back on his stool, idly spinning the glass in his hand while Beau took a phone call. He was tired, so damn tired. He should go home and sleep, shouldn’t have come out tonight at all really. Beau was right, he had work tomorrow and he was supposed to be guest lecturing in the afternoon as well. He laid is head on the bar, pillowed by one bent arm and looked watched Beau nod at her phone call.

He was an idiot, why did she still put up with him. He was a drunk.

Hadn’t always been one, but he could admit to himself that he certainly was now. Non-drunks didn’t spend every night at a dive bar drinking cheap whiskey until they couldn’t speak common anymore.

He sighed again.

“Have we reached the sad phase already? That usually takes longer” Beau half-teased as she walked over “Also you might not want to lay there, I ran out of bleach until tomorrow”

He shrugged “was that Gustav?”

She nodded, pushing a bowl of pretzels towards him. He sat up and took one, taking a bite obediently

“How is his husband doing?”

“Better he says, but he’s still going to be off for a while” she pushed a glass of water to him now and waited while he took a sip “he hired some extra help, some new guy to take the day shift since I’ve gotta get back to the Soul”

He hummed in response, finishing off his whiskey and following it with the rest of the glass of water. The next few hours are a drunken blur until finally Beau is pushing him into a cab and giving his address.

He stumbled in the door of his apartment, glaring around at it. He had moved in a few weeks after Veth left their old place, unable to stand looking at the walls they had painted and the furniture they had thrifted. This place was much nicer, objectively, but he hadn’t done anything other than move his stuff in. Jester had helped him pick out furniture, everything was understated and comfortable. Warm dark wood and soft browns and greens. The only thing he had really picked himself had been the over-large leather armchair. Beau called it his ‘professor chair’ and had shown up with a green plaid throw blanket the next day that he dutifully folded over the back of it.

He kicked off his boots, tossed his old coat on the hook and made for his room. He would shower in the morning to help wake himself up for work.

———————————————————————————————————–

Fjord needs this job. Like, needs it or he’ll be out on the street type of needs it. The bar was the only place to call him back when he applied. He’s not particularly surprised, having spent his entire teen and young adult life on shipping vessels doesn’t make for a lot of job experience. But he has his bar tending license and he’s broken up enough brawls at the shipyard to know he could handle drunk college kids. The bar looks like any college bar in any college town. It’s a two story building between a pawn shop and another bar, the wooden sign is faded but clearly had been bright to start. The blinds are drawn and the windows have the same metal bars on them as the other businesses. He was greeted at the door by a very tall, very pale woman with mismatched eyes and a much softer voice than he had been expecting.

He’d never admit it, but the woman walking him through his tour is terrifying. She’s tanned, ripped but in that lean way that if she wasn’t in a literal sports bra and sweats, he’d never have known. Her dark hair is up in a top knot, showing the buzzed undercut and the intricate tattoo on the back of her neck. But it’s the eyes, sharp and pale blue, giving him a look that clearly says she’s sizing him up. Somehow, he doesn’t doubt she could kick his ass in a fight. She had introduced herself as Beau, gripped his forearm to shake instead of his hand, and started the tour without so much as a ‘nice to meet you’.

The inside of the bar is much like he expected, dark mahogany wood tables and chairs (all of them scuffed with years of use), a dance floor and small stage at the far end. The actual bar-top itself ran along the side closest to the door, bathrooms were down a small hallway at the end. There was a small office upstairs with a live security feed going on the old tv.

They made their way back down, Beau locking the office door first. She leaned up against the bar and he followed suit.

“So, you’ll mainly be tending bar” Beau started, indicating the wall of booze “you’ll cover for Yasha on her days off though”

Fjord nodded “Yeah, no problem at all”

Beau looked back at him curiously “where are you from anyway?”

“Port Damali, or around there anyway”

Fjord was used to the question; his accent was always considered odd in the empire.

“Huh, cool cool.” She looked over the currently empty bar and sighed “okay so…”

He raised an eyebrow, that didn’t sound good

“We’ve got a couple regulars you should be aware of” she laughed at whatever his expression must have shown “nothing crazy, they’re good folks just… you should know when to call the cab”

He nodded, that sounded a lot like the bars on the coast if he was honest.

“So there’s Reani, she has a halo” he chose not to comment on that “she’s sweet, but after a bit too much wine you’ll need to send her home before her inner law major comes out and she starts trying to either arrest or psychoanalyse people.”

He smirked, oh so this bar had those kinds of regulars.

“Then there’s Keg, she can get pretty rowdy after too much beer”

He nodded

“And then… well…” she seemed to hesitate now, and he furrowed his brows at her. Did this bar actually have a ‘problem’ regular?

Beau sighed “there’s Caleb” he nodded “nerdy ginger, Zemnian accent, only orders whiskey” she looked off to the side now “He only gets cut off if he stops speaking common or passes out”

There was a pause.

“I…I’m sorry, what?”

Who the hell got to stick around to the point of passing out?

Beau rubbed the back of her neck as her expression turned some mix of embarrassment and sadness.

“He… The owner, Gus, cuts him extra slack ‘cause he never causes a scene” she looked at him almost pleadingly “he’s a really good guy, he just… he’s been through a lot”

Fjord nodded, trying to be compassionate. The guy was a friend of the owner, and got a little extra slack, it was fine.

“Just…” Beau paused again, biting her lip “if he… call me or Yasha if he seems too far past that. Don’t let him get in the cab without one of us”

Oh. Oh… Fjord understood now. This Caleb was a friend of the bar, not just the owner. That made more sense. He nodded, taking her and Yasha’s cell numbers and adding them to his phone.

The next hour was spent with Beau making sure he knew where everything was located behind the bar, and making sure he knew the lock code for the employee entrance at the back.

—

It was two weeks before he worked the bar on a night when the mysterious Caleb came in. Fjord was wiping down some glasses when he saw a man sit down at the end of the bar, farthest from the door. He was pale, dressed like a librarian with fine ginger hair tied back in a low bun. Fjord set down the glass and walked over, a smile on his face.

“Well hey there, what can I get’cha?”

The man looked up at him and Fjord felt all the air go out of his lungs at once. Eyes the colour of the ocean at twilight looked up at him from the pale face, with bags that were so dark they nearly looked fake.

“Hallo there” the soft accent only made it harder for him to breath “you are new… you must be Fjord, ja?”

The way this mans accent caught ever so slightly on his name was instantly almost too much. Fjord just nodded as he remembered Beaus description from weeks before

“I am, you must be Caleb” he threw the human his most charming smile, tusks and all “I’m pleased to meet you…whiskey, right?”

Caleb smiled now, or what Fjord assumed counted for a smile… it was really more a slight tilt of the head combined with the smallest quirk of his lips.

“Ja, Beauregard has warned you about me I suppose?”

Fjord shrugged, pulling the golden liquor off the shelf, and pouring just a bit more than a double

“She said I’d meet you eventually”

Caleb took the drink and held it up in cheers “how long have you been here Mister Fjord?” he drained it in one long drink. Fjord tried not to stare.

“Just about three weeks, mostly the day shift though” he refilled the empty glass “no need for that ‘mister’ stuff here, just Fjord is fine”

Caleb eyed him over the rim of his refilled glass, and Fjord fought the instinct to shiver under the blue stare.

“Well then Fjord, I am pleased to finally meet you… hopefully we will see more of each other”

Fjord smiled again “sounds good to me, Beau’s been taking more shifts at the Soul anyway”

Caleb nodded, his expression going from calculating to fond so quickly it was shocking

“She deserves it, she has worked very hard to earn her place there… it will be nice to see her move up in life”

“You care about her”

Caleb smirked down into his nearly empty glass, Fjord couldn’t help the shock at how quickly the man drank.

“Ja, she is one of two people who have known me at my worst and continue to stay with me, I want the best for her”

Oh, that explained why Beau had been so adamant about Caleb not being kicked out, there was something else going on there.

Fjord refilled his glad “she seems like good folk to me”

Caleb did in fact stay until nearly it was nearly closing time, he was quiet at first but Fjord kept up a steady stream of chatter and questions when he wasn’t serving other customers. He noticed that the ginger never really smiled when he talked… the most Fjord could get were those little half smirks or a laugh that was more like a huff.

He didn’t really know why he wanted Caleb to smile, he just had a feeling that it would be worth it.

Well… that, and Fjord had always been a sucker for a man with blue eyes.

He learned that Caleb was some kind of prodigy, graduating university at 20 (having started at 16). He had lived in Zadash since his graduation, but only started working for the school five years ago. He claimed not to remember the first three years after his graduation at all, and the way his hands had started to shake had stopped Fjord from pressing.

He wrote a book, apparently, and also had “about a dozen, maybe” published research papers.

In return for all of this, Fjord told him about his life at sea. Caleb had brightened up then, asking questions about what it had been like to spend so much time on the water. Had asked if he missed it.

He did, a little, but after Vandran… After Sabien… he couldn’t go back.

He hadn’t told Caleb that though.

——————————————————————��————————————–

Caleb found himself heading for the bar earlier these days. Part of it was the added stress of the new courses the university had asked him to teach… but if he was honest with himself (and who else could he be honest with these days) part was also… Fjord.

The half-orc had been a pleasant surprise, he was funny and charismatic, and seemed genuinely interested in Caleb’s work.

Two days after they met, Caleb had gone into the bar a few hours earlier, almost smiling when he saw amber eyes look up at him. He had taken his usual seat at the otherwise empty bar, Fjord pouring him a drink before leaning on his forearms and smiling at him.

The man did have a great smile.

“Afternoon Caleb, didn’t think I’d get to see you today, Beau’s gonna be here any time”

“I am lucky my class ended early today then hm?”

“Nah, I’m the lucky one” Fjord winked and refilled his glass

They spent the last hour of Fjord’s shift talking, and Caleb drank much slower than he usually would as the other man all but interrogated him about his new classes. Beau waved, smirking when she arrived, taking her spot behind the bar and shooing Fjord away.

Caleb sighed as the other man headed for the back, downing the rest of his drink. At least he would have more time to drink now.

“Not excited to see your best friend hm?” Beau teased, refilling his glass “I see how it is, you like the new guy better”

He smirked at her “well, you have to admit he’s much better looking”

She threw a drying rag at him, along with a string of her best curses.

“Oh, so we are allowed to cuss out the customers then, I meant to ask”

They both looked over to see Fjord leaning up against the bar and smiling at them. Beau laughed as Caleb took the moment of distraction to throw the rag back at her.

“Only this customer, ‘cause he’s an ass”

“Takes one to know one” he retorted, flicking a pretzel at her

“Oh real mature, such a very clever answer from the local genius. See what I have to deal with Fjord?”

Fjord was laughing now, a deep rumbling laugh that matched his voice. Caleb finished another drink as the still chuckling man took the bar stool next to him.

“How long have you two known each other? I would swear you were related if I didn’t know better”

“Ja, Beauregard here is my long-lost annoying sister, you have discovered our secret”

“Nah, this old man is secretly my real dad who ran off and left me with the shit one”

Caleb scoffed in mock outrage “I am not that old, Scheisse” he turned to Fjord, sighing “I do not know why I still come here, honestly”

He flinched as Beau flicked him with her towel “It’s cause you love me dumbass, you know it” she refilled his glass “and who else will listen to you rant about arcane theory all night?”

She turned to Fjord “want a drink, or has the grumpy old man who haunts the bar scared you off?”

Caleb sputtered indignantly, though it was mostly for show. He was, after all, a grumpy old man who haunted the bar.

Fjord chuckled “sure, just a beer is fine”

They drank in silence for a while as more people started to arrive, Caleb pulled out his notebook and flipped to the page he had been working on that afternoon.

“What’cha got there?”

He looked over to see Fjord looking back curiously and felt something in his chest loosen.

“Well,” he began, sliding the book closer to the half-orc and leaning in “I am working on a new spell”

The hours had gone by in a blur, not the usual drunken blur of his nights at the bar, but one of conversation and explanation. Caleb found himself talking more than he had in ages (not counting his lectures), and at the end of the night his tab had been far lower. He went home, choosing to walk the short distance instead of getting a cab, and fell asleep without his usual tossing and turning.

And so, their new tradition was born. He still went to the bar every day (which Beau claimed was “unhealthy”) but he left before closing and his bills stayed lower. This new combination of Fjord’s company (because Caleb couldn’t deny that it was Fjords company that had changed his routine) and his whiskey was doing what the whiskey alone hadn’t in weeks.

He didn’t think. The angry voice in his head was muted and his nightmares stayed away… it was a nice change.

Of course, as nice as his evenings had become, his mind was still as it had always been. Which he realized when, one morning on a rare day off he was reaching for a knife to cut up some fruit for breakfast. He grabbed the first one his hands touched, an old steak-knife that had come over from the old apartment

Stab. End it.

He sighed, put the knife back in the drawer and tossed the fruit back in the fridge. He wasn’t hungry anyway.

———————————————————————————————————–

“Mister Caleb!” Fjord greeted, a month after he had met the man. He had realized that on top of being attractive, the wizard had been downplaying his academic achievements that first night. He had written dozens of papers on Arcana (most of which Fjord had read on his off time), along with having created a spell that allowed for permanent transfiguration of a persons form… and now he was a guest professor at Zadash University.

The thing was… none of that really mattered as far as Fjord was concerned. Because despite all of it, Caleb was polite, kind and just… genuinely good to everyone who spoke to him.

“Guten Abend Fjord, you’ve had a good day I hope?”

Fjord nodded, pouring his usual just-a-bit-more than a double and sliding it over before leaning on the counter.

“So, what brilliant stuff have you been up to today?”

Caleb sighed, taking a long sip from his glass before responding

“Today I dealt with confused first years and also answered several angry emails from my publisher”

Fjord paused, refilling his glass out of habit

“Why was the publisher angry?”

Caleb smirked ruefully at him “Well, it turns out that there are several free versions of my research papers floating around, allowing students to use them without paying an exorbitant fee” he shot the double back like it was nothing, and Fjord tried not to watch his throat as he swallowed “and the publisher did not appreciate my response to the situation”

Fjord cleared his throat “wh-what response was that?”

Caleb looked him in the eye and smirked “I told them I didn’t care, and that I have no interest in pursuing legal action”

He winked, leaning in conspiratorially and Fjords stomach flipped

“What she doesn’t know… is that I am the one leaking everything”

Fjord felt the smile build across his face. This man… he was something else.

They spent the next several hours talking, Fjord finding himself leaning across the bar as the human described his most recent research paper. Fjord loved magic, and Caleb loved talking about it. It didn’t hurt that at one point the man got frustrated and tugged the hair tie out of his hair, sending a cascade of ginger waves over his shoulders and making Fjord stutter.

“Caleb, I gotta ask” he started tentatively

Caleb hummed in response, too-blue eyes catching his

“What in the hells are you wasting your time here for? You’ve gotta be the smartest person I’ve ever met”

Caleb eyed him for a moment, draining the rest of his glass before he smiled one of his new, tentative smiles, tilting his head to expose the long column of pale neck.

“Sometimes I just need to… not think anymore” Caleb looked up at him through long lashes, mouth parted slightly “and… I’ve been thinking lately…” he paused, worrying his bottom lip “if you should ever find yourself in a similar situation” he pulled out a gods damned fountain pen, wrote a phone number on his napkin and pushed it across the bar “give me a call ja?”

Fjord took the napkin, blinking in surprise as Caleb stood and headed for the door.

“He likes you” Beau sounded surprised as she walked over, watching her friend leave.

“I mean, he’s a nice guy… even if he does drink like a fish”

She eyed him for a moment, clearly trying to decide if she should say whatever she was thinking

“He’s… been through a lot of shit” She pulled a glass over and started cleaning it “drinking isn’t the best way to deal, but it’s better than others… and honestly he doesn’t drink nearly as much when you’re on shift”

He raised and eyebrow at her and she shrugged

“I haven’t had to pour him into a cab since you started, which is a distinct improvement”

She smirked, looking at him out of the corner of her eye “and I don’t see you throwing that away” she tilted her head towards the napkin in his hand “so I guess you like him too”

He shrugged, the truth was that he did like Caleb, how could he not? Even with the clear drinking problem he had been nothing but nice. And he was smart, and handsome… and fucking funny when he wanted to be.

He looked down at the napkin for a moment before pulling out his phone and adding it in.

“What the hell, gotta take a chance sometime” he muttered as he hit the little save button.

“Hell yeah!” Beau said responded, punching his shoulder lightly “just as a side note”

He looked over at her, she was adding the clean glass to the stacks beneath the bar

“You’re my friend Fjord, I like you… but if you hurt him, I’ll punch you so hard your ancestors will feel it, cool?”

He smirked “yeah, sounds good”

#this is my angst fic #tw alcohol #tw mentions of drug use #tw suicidal ideation #widofjord #critical role fanfiction

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