#almost as good as the song I came up with after mowing the lawn about Mitchell Starc

[partybarty]

Oh Scotty

Do you know what you're worth?

Scotty Boland is the best on earth

The perfect bowler, just what we need

He took 6fa at the MCG

[queenshelby]

My Friend’s Father (Part One of Three)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Smut

Words: 2,528

Notes: Alright, no judgment. This was a dream of mine and I felt like I had to write it down. Everyone in this Fic is over the age of 18 and this Fic is in no way based on Cillian’s real family life. It’s pure filth.

 *************************

You inhaled the calming aroma of your tea as you looked out into the familiar back yard while your friend Denise puttered around in the kitchen as she made you a snack.

Her mother, Laura, had recently moved out of the house and you came to visit her for the first time since, wanting to give her and her parents some time to adjust before intruding.

Denise was the same age as you and had recently started her university degree at Trinity College. You, on the other hand, attended a different university in Galway which is where you had moved to six months ago with your parents.

For a long time, you and your parents lived across the road from Denise and her parents. You both attended high school together and had become best friends.

Now, your old house was occupied by a new family with their two adorable little children and, whilst they seemed nice, Denise felt somewhat lonely not having a friend live nearby.

Denise had a brother named Liam who was 23 and still lived at home as well. He was only two years older than you and Denise and had always liked you quite a lot.

You, on the other hand, were never really interested in him and when, one night, he kissed you, you stayed away from Denise’s house for a few weeks to avoid the awkwardness.

‘He’s been working out’ you observed as you watched Liam mow the lawns outside. The buzz of the lawn mower got louder as he finished the front and methodically mowed his way around back.

‘Yes, he has been ever since he knew that you would be staying with us for the long weekend’ Denise laughed but you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

‘Honestly, I would still prefer watching your dad mowing the lawns Denise, especially if he was shirtless and all sweaty’ you teased, knowing that your comment would get under her skin just as much as her comment about her brother got under yours.

‘Oh god, you are disgusting’ Denise said while her face evidentially turned green.

‘What? Your dad is hot’ you said before asking her where he was.

‘In Manchester, filming the last season of Peaky Blinders. He will be back tonight, unfortunately’ Denise said, enjoying to have the house for herself instead.

‘Oh, so he’s got the haircut?’ you asked somewhat excited, causing your friend to roll her eyes.

‘Yes, the infamous haircut’ she chuckled before you told her again that you thought that her father was quite attractive.

‘I know you have been saying that for years. Yet, it’s still weird and grosses me out’ Denise sighed before reminding you that you have boyfriend who would not appreciate you talking about other men like this.

‘We broke up two weeks ago. He was getting a little too possessive’ you explained before you described your two-month relationship to your friend.

‘Well, sounds like you dodged a bullet there’ Denise said, repeating the age-old break-up response and you nodded, thankful that your friend was there to cheer you up, but still feeling wounded by the whole ordeal.

‘Let’s not hit on my dad though, alright?’ she then laughed and you nodded again in agreement before Denise showed you the guestroom in which you would be staying.

***

At around 9 o’clock the front door of the house opened and you watched Denise and Liam get up to greet their father who had just arrived back home after having been away for three weeks’ straight.

‘I am glad to see that you haven’t trashed the house�� he chuckled and you quickly poked your head into the corridor to say hello.

‘Hey Mr Murphy’ you said with a wide smile when you saw him. He looked incredible, as usual.

‘Jesus, Y/N can you please start calling me Cillian’ he reminded you before greeting you and asking you how you liked Galway. You had known him for a while and he had told you on many occasions that the term ‘Mr Murphy’ made him feel rather old.

After some small talk, you and Denise returned to the living room to give him some time to tune down after having been away.

The two of you curled up on the couch in the living room with popcorn and a cheesy movie, just like old times and, at around 11 o’clock, you both decided that it was time for bed.

After getting changed into your somewhat revealing satin pyjamas, you tippy toed across the hallway into the main bathroom in order to brush your teeth when, suddenly, the bathroom door opened and Cillian stood in front of you with nothing but a white towel wrapped around him.

‘Uhm, I am sorry Mr Murphy…uhm Cillian’ you said with embarrassment, realising that you had almost barged into him but he didn’t seem bothered at all.

‘Don’t worry Y/N, it’s alright. Have a good night’ he said, getting out of the way and you stumbled into the bathroom.

Without closing the door, you starred at him walking down the hallway. How on earth could a man his age look so incredibly good you wondered as your eyes took in his toned body.

When he eventually disappeared into his bedroom and you closed the bathroom door behind you, all you could smell was the scent of the soap he had used mixed with a hint of his aftershave.

You know you shouldn’t think about your friend’s father this way, but you also couldn’t help yourself. After all, you knew that you were one of many women who were attracted to him.

***

When you finally went to bed, you felt a familiar tingle between your legs as you thought about Cillian in the shower. The image didn’t leave your mind and you wondered what he would look like without the towel wrapped around him.

With this attractive man on your mind, you slowly slid your fingers down into your panties and began to relieve yourself of the tension that had built up there.

You knew that the master bedroom was right next to yours and the thought of this turned you on even more. You knew he would be lying there, on his bed, possibly half naked.

Both windows were open and he did, indeed, lie there, on his bed, reading a book which is when he heard it, your soft moans and whimpers.

He couldn’t help but swallow harshly, knowing what you were doing right there with only a thin wall between you.

But the thought that he may be able to hear you didn’t stop you as you rubbed little circles around your tingling clit a bit faster until, finally, with one loud moan, you climaxed.

Just as you did, Cillian’s manhood stirred but he wasn’t willing to give in. He had too much self-control and his mind tried hard to focus on the book in his hands rather than the sounds you were making. You were his daughter’s friend and, whilst you were almost 22, this was highly inappropriate.

****

The next morning Cillian jolted awake when the alarm clock on his phone went off and he realised that he had forgotten to turn off the alarm when he returned home after being away filming.

It was only 7 o’clock but, since he was awake now, he climbed out of bed anyway and shuffled his way to his bedroom door. He made his way to the bathroom and shut the door behind him. He turned on the light and the shower water in one long movement.

After he got out of the shower and back into his shorts and a t-shirt, he wobbled out of the steamy bathroom into the kitchen where he smelled something burn.

Then, all of a sudden, he froze as he watched you standing there, flipping a pancake with precision on the stove without the use of utensils. You were unaware of his presence and he could even hear the song you were listening to on your phone.

You moved to the beat and Cillian was awestruck. After what he heard you do last night in the guestroom, his jaw dropped a few centimetres every time you rocked with the backbeat of the song.

You were wearing the same night shorts and spaghetti strap shirt you wore the night before but in the light of the sun you noticed your shorts were somewhat see through and your shirt was silk that didn't cover your breasts completely.

Eventually, you noticed something out of the corner of your eye. A statue you hadn't noticed before? No, it was Cillian standing in the dining room, his mouth hanging slightly and his eyes glued to the scene before him. You paused and began to turn to the frozen figure that was still in your peripheral vision.

You yanked on the string connected to your ears expertly and one of your earphones popped out of place. Then you smiled at the shock on Cillian’s face but didn't stop moving to the song playing in your head. Cillian forced his mouth closed when he made eye contact.

‘Good morning Cillian’ you said softly. He gulped and nodded quickly before moving to where the coffee machine was standing and turning it on.

‘Good morning’ he then replied before offering you a coffee which you gladly accepted, causing Cillian to move over to the stove to reach for two cups.

You didn't move to make it easier for him to reach above the stove to the cups. Instead, you made him stretch his body over you.

You watched him as he did and you saw him trying not to look at you. He failed miserably.

‘Do you want pancakes?’ you then asked with a warm smile and Cillian nodded.

‘That would be amazing, thanks’ he stammered as he was preparing the coffees.

‘Do you like blueberries?’ you then asked, still swaying to the music on your phone and Cillian nodded again but didn't realise that you were pouring pancake mix in the pan and couldn't see his response. After a moment you looked over to him.

‘Do you like blueberries?’ you asked again quietly and Cillian smiled and nodded again.

‘Yeah, I like ...’ he cleared his throat before adding the word ‘blueberries’.

He rolled his eyes at his response when you turned back around but you simply smiled and walked him over a stack of blueberry pancakes and a bottle of maple syrup.

‘There you go’ you said as you put the plate in front of him and felt his eyes follow you when you turned around and back to the stove.

A few minutes later you dumped one last pancake on a third plate and put the plate in the microwave. You took your plate and cup of coffee and went to sit by Cillian where his food was barely touched.

‘Not hungry?’ you asked as you began to eat.

‘It’s early’ he responded, still trying hard not to stare at your cleavage.

Eventually though, you both ate in silence, a silence you loved and Cillian hated.

He couldn't think of a single joke the entire time you both sat there and you just smirked every time he grunted instead of speaking.

Soon you could hear Denise walk through the living room and this was Cillian hurried up and ate the last bit of his pancakes before excusing himself.

***

‘Wow, you actually got him to eat in the morning. That’s something’ Denise joked as she walked into the kitchen and saw that her father had eaten some of the pancakes you had prepared.

‘Where did he go?’ you then asked, knowing that he had excused himself without any further explanation.

‘Down to the basement, listening to some music I would say’ Denise said as she dug into the pancakes, enjoying them quite a lot.

‘Talking of music, do you have an iPhone charger? My phone is almost out of charge’ you asked, looking at the battery on your phone.

‘No, I’ve got a Samsung. Dad has iPhone though. Go downstairs and ask him’ Denise then suggested and you nodded before making your way down towards the basement.

***

You walked down to the basement and knocked before opening the door slowly as you didn’t hear Cillian answer you.

You didn’t want to intrude on his privacy but, to your surprise, when you did open the door, you saw more than you had bargained for.

Cillian was sitting in front of his computer and it was quite obvious to you what he was watching.

You could see most of the screen from the angle at which you were standing as well as his hardening cock in his hand. He reached over and squirted some lotion onto his palm, lubricating his whole shaft before beginning to stroke with soft squelching sounds.

You wondered whether you should say something or whether you should just turn around and leave. But, you did neither and, instead, you watched as you were getting more and more turned on.

He fast forwarded and jumped around through different videos, his thick cock towering over his fist at the bottom of every stroke. You could feel that you were getting wet, but starting to cramp a little in your unchanged position after so long. There was something deliciously naughty about watching him in secret.

After ten minutes Cillian settled on a video of a young lady who had remarkably familiar features. Her hair was about the same length and colour as yours and her skin tone and build were strikingly similar.

You started breathing more heavily and pressed your legs together to deal with the tingling sensation in your core. You enjoyed watching the porn actress's performance while Cillian’s heavy, throbbing shaft disappeared under his fist faster and faster. His cock was beautiful and you wanted to walk into the room so badly and replace his hand with yours.

Eventually, you could see Cillian’s abs begin to twitch and tighten as he got closer to his high as he continued to stroke his shaft.

‘Fuck’ he groaned as he started to cum, pumping jet after jet of stickiness back towards his chest, causing you to gulp.

But you knew what you had to do. You couldn’t walk in now, it would be too awkward.

Just after you watched Cillian clean himself up, you quickly tippy toed back upstairs which is where Denise was waiting for you.

‘Did you get dad’s charger?’ she asked but you simply shook your head.

‘Uhm, he didn’t have one…left it in Manchester I think’ you said with flushed cheeks.

‘Are you okay Y/N? You look a bit hot?’

‘Uhm…yes…fine…thanks’ you stammered out before telling Denise that you would go and have a shower.

 Tag List:

@lilymurphy03@deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall@elenavampire21 @hanster1998@mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-your-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang@0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney@missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @chocolatehalo @vhscillian @ysmmsy @littlewierdalien @crazymar15  @stickyknightflowerbailiff @im-constantly-fangirling @goldensunflowe-r  @tellingyouastory  @captivatedbycillianmurphy​  @namelesslosers​  @littlewhiterose​  @ttzamara​  @ttzamara @cilleveryone  ​

@peaky-cillian​

@severewobblerlightdragon​  @ysmmsy​  

[penguinwithitsarseonfire]

Dare to Sit and Watch What We’ll Become (And Drink My Husbands Wine)

Pairing: Eleventh Doctor x Reader, Suggested Thirteenth Doctor x River Song x Reader

Word Count: 3,210

Warnings: Some spicy lil angst??, It’s pretty cute at the end tho

Summary: Whilst you and the Ponds do a secret something in the bowels of the TARDIS, she takes the Doctor to a seemingly boring suburban street. So, when faced with the last person he expected to see, the Doctor is forced to confront some of the things he’s been avoiding lately. Namely, his feelings for a certain human companion.

A/N: Hi hello! I disappear from tumblr far far too often because my life is crazy busy, which honestly I think is bc I’m overcompensating my schedule bc of the lack of of one last year??? Who knows - anyway, this is a very very belated birthday gift for @fabulouspotatosister​ because I love you lots my friend even though it’s been ages I’m so sorry about that, happy birthday hon!!!

“What about the Praxa Museum?” The Doctor calls out, hoping that the TARDIS would carry his voice down her winding hallways towards you and the Ponds.

It was Amy’s voice who returned. “We were there last week.”

The Doctor groaned. “You know if you want a say on where we’re going, you lot should be over here helping me out.”

There was another crash, deep in the bowels of the TARDIS. “We’re good!” You called out just as quickly, your voice carrying down the hallway. “Nothing to worry about.”

The Doctor wasn’t too sure about that and was almost tempted to sprint down the hall and check.

But when this whole thing had started you had asked him to stay away, and he wasn’t about to say no to you.

He scoffed to himself and ran a hand through his hair. There was a lot to unpack in that thought. He thought about that sunny smile of yours and the almost bashful glint in your eyes when you had told him not to step foot in the TARDIS’ hallways.

It made his stomach feel all twisty in a way that he definitely wasn’t going to unpack. Because that would mean investigating why he was feeling like this, especially towards you.

And he knew what that would lead to, what he would discover about himself, what he would have to confront.

So instead he punched in a collection of random coordinates and grinned up at the column in the centre of the console room. “Alright old girl,” he said. “Let’s go somewhere wild.”

The Doctor frowned as he stepped out of the TARDIS after she had landed. This was decidedly not wild.

He had only wanted to take a peek, just to get an idea of where they were, so he could learn about this place and wow you – you and the Ponds, he reminded himself, to show you the magic of… perhaps a yellow sky, or green sand, or a bird that speaks Spanish.

Instead, he had wound up on some suburban Earth street. It really was quite unordinary. The houses were well lived in, with various plants that, at some houses, needed a bit of an upkeep. There were lawns that had been mowed, mail that had been collected, and all around, it was quiet, unassuming and… well, boring.

He glared at the TARDIS behind him. “This isn’t really what I had in mind.”

The TARDIS didn’t give him the dignity of a response.

Rude.

Well, he supposed there was an adventure somewhere, there always was.

And there was history in these cobblestone paths, the stories of hundreds of people that had never been told.

And he was going to find one today.

There was a loud pearl of laughter that came from a place only a few doors down, and, curious, he meandered over. This house was not that grand. There was no bright coloured door, funny garden gnome, or a fancy mailbox to stick it out as bright and unusual. It was, quite honestly, rather bland, and it seamlessly blended in with the rest of the street.  Which is why the Doctor was drawn to it.

That and the laughter.

He ran his hand over the weathered stone fence. Now why would the TARDIS bring him here?

His gaze fell to the front of the house, to the brass number 13 nailed into the front door, then to the awnings, which had recently been painted over in an eggshell white, and to the curtains over the windows, which were faded and probably in need of repair.

His breath caught in his throat, his gaze falling to the window, or well rather, the figure in the window.

It was you.

Except – no, it couldn’t be. You were tucked up inside the TARDIS with Amy and Rory, doing your secret thing that he wasn’t allowed to know about.

But you were there, not here.

Except there you were, right in front of him, and the Doctor watched, almost transfixed, as the you in the window ran your hands through your hair. You laughed brightly, with what the Doctor could only assume, was a friend inside.

It was you but… older. Years older, it looked like.

The you in the window stood taller, with all the grace and confidence that the you the Doctor knew hadn’t quite mastered yet. Your eyes shone with the wisdom that only came with age, and new lines marked your face, creasing against the corners of your eyes and mouth.

The Doctor smiled at this, you must have been living a very happy life.

He watched as this future you walked around what seemed to be a counter, revealing a collection of food and cooking utensils. This must have been the kitchen, then. Alright.

You were talking animatedly with whoever else was in the room, and as you moved, the light reflected off the chain around your neck. He swallowed; you were wearing a key.

His key.

The Doctor stumbled backwards, he has given you that key a year ago, and you still had it, even now?

You looked up suddenly and the Doctor threw himself out of the window’s gaze. He shouldn’t be watching you, spying on you. This was bad, this was very, very bad. This was the you from the future, something he should know absolutely nothing about. Not like this, not something so intimate. Some things were supposed to remain a secret, especially those things that involved someone he, er, cared about.

This was especially bad because you – his you, was so close by. You could stroll out of the TARDIS at any moment and come face to face with your future self.

And that would not end well, at all.

The Doctor chewed on his lower lip. Then again… it was just him out here, and you were quite busy…

One more peek wouldn’t hurt.

The Doctor carefully repositioned himself so he could see through the window, but, hopefully, you wouldn’t be able to see him. Was it spying? Perhaps, in a lose sort of term. But he was curious, and surely there was a reason for this.

Amy would throttle him if she knew what he was doing.

You were cooking something with a new character – the person you had been laughing with, evidently, and combining a mixture of different ingredients in a large mixing bowl. The Doctor didn’t recognise her, with her short height and bob of blonde hair that kept managing to fall into her eyes, but it was clear that she was important to you.

It caused something to curl in the Doctors stomach.

She seemed enthusiastic about whatever the pair of you were cooking, if, judging by how her eyes bulged out of her head slightly whenever you reached a new step, completely out of her element.

This must have been the person you had been laughing with.

He wasn’t sure why he didn’t like that. Well – he did know, but it wasn’t something he was going to unpack. He was only curious.

Because, the thing was, when you locked eyes with her, pausing in mid conversation, you looked at her with sparkling eyes and a doting smile. You looked at this random woman, this stranger, the exact same way that you looked at him.

The Doctor swallowed, and the blonde woman fumbled with a cup of flour, causing a plume of the powder to rise into the air.

The you in the window laughed again, with that strange woman joining in, and you took her hand, guiding her in creating whatever it was.

The Doctor felt that same twinge in his gut, twisting itself like a pool of lead.  

He ignored it.

The blonde looked at you with a grateful, adoring smile, and the Doctor froze. He knew that smile, knew how his features would feel creating that smile, knew how dopey it seemed from his reflection. It was the way he looked at you, utterly mesmerized and in awe.

This woman loved you.

You poked her nose with a flour covered finger, and in response she twirled you around the kitchen. The pair or you clasped your hands together, leaned forward and-

The Doctor looked away. He wasn’t going to watch that. He didn’t have the hearts to.

You’d kissed.

And it hadn’t been with him.

The Doctor took in a shaky breath, composing himself. He wasn’t sure why the TARDIS had brought him here when it was clear he wasn’t needed. Not by you, not anymore.

He walked back to the TARDIS slowly, trying to wrap his mind over what he had seen. The Doctor knew that he would lose you one day, and he would lose the Ponds too. It’s how it had always been, it was how it always would be. He had never expected anything different.

But he had never truly thought about it. The notion that you would be gone one day was just a niggling sensation in the back of his too big brain, silenced by the heat of your hand in his or the sparkle in your eyes when you shared a joke.

So, he had never, ever, thought you would just… leave.

Why would you do that? What was he going to do that would cause you to go? What would that straw be? The last one, where you would say enough is enough, and just go?

The Doctor almost didn’t notice when the TARDIS door cracked open. He looked up, locking those thoughts into the back of his mind, and you, brilliant you, his you, popped your head out.

“Hey,” you smiled at him, that bright wonderful smile. “We’d been wondering where you’d wandered off to.”

The Doctor wasn’t sure what face he was giving back but it felt… wrong. His cheeks were too tight, and his eyes hurt. Your face fell into a concerned frown, and he knew that, whatever expression was plastered on his face, wasn’t a good one.

“Oh Doctor,” you said. “Are you alright?”

The Doctor relaxed his face, and grinned. “Of course I am Y/N, I’m absolutely peachy. I’ve got the Ponds,” he wrapped his arm around you, holding you close and jostling you slightly. “I’ve got you.”

You laughed lightly and pushed him off you, straightening out your top. You didn’t linger far though, and the Doctor could feel your body heat against his arm.

You turned to face him, your mouth turned in a smug smirk, but your eyes still showed concern. The Doctor wasn’t going to think about the fact that he could read you so well.

A cloud uncovered the sun, and it glinted off of the chain around your neck. His key. “Uh huh,” you said, completely unconvinced. “Which is why you look like a drowned rat.”

“Oh YN, I’m so peachy,” he poked your nose. “I could be a fruit salad.”

You screwed your nose up in protest. “That was awful,” though after a moment you sobered. “We don’t have to talk about it now but… when you’re ready, I’m here.”

The offer was so earnest, so full of kindness that the Doctor almost broke. He wanted to tell you, he wanted to tell you everything. About what he had seen, how he felt, how scared he was that you would one day be gone.

But he couldn’t say any of that. He wouldn’t. Afterall, at the end of the day, it wouldn’t matter.

He was always going to lose you.

You must have sensed that he wasn’t going to respond because you gave him a small, sad, but unsurprised smile. “Think on it,” you said softly, and you squeezed his hand three times. “We’ll see you inside.”

The Doctor nodded, and as your hand fell from his grasp, you stepped back inside.

The Doctor stared at the familiar blue doors of the TARDIS, the walls of his best friend, his home.

If there was any takeaway from this, he’d always have his TARDIS.

He pressed his hand against the wooden panel hiding the phone, felt the grooves of the weathered wood under his palms, and let the TARDIS’ energy pass through him.

“Hello Sweetie.”

The Doctor almost smiled to himself. He should have known. He turned away from the TARDIS so his back was facing that house, and his gaze caught on her fabulous hair, which framed her face and almost glowed in the evening sun.

“River,” he said, and he couldn’t hide how pleased he was to see her. However strange or cryptic River was, she had become a constant for him. “It’s been a while.”

“For one of us, at least,” she replied. She was holding a bottle of red wine, tucked snug into her arm.

The Doctor nodded towards it. “Special occasion?”

She smiled, something genuine and warm. She was excited. “Date night.”

The Doctor raised an eyebrow and glanced back at the house you were in. “Date night...? What? With Y/N?”

“Among others,” River replied, and there was a familiar teasing, all-knowing glint in her eyes. She nodded to the bottle. “I can tell you that my husband gave me this.”

“Me?” The Doctor asked.

River hummed non-committedly. “Or it was my wife, it’s hard to keep track.”

“You’re not going to tell me then?”

She grinned. “Spoilers-”

He spoke with her, and her face fell into a surprised smile. “You’re getting predictable, Song.”

A bubble of laughter fell out of her. “You know, that’s not the first time you’ve told me that today.”

“Who is she?” He asked, because it was eating away at him and he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

River sighed. “Doctor, you know I can’t.”

“I just want to know…” he trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid. River knew what he meant.

Because what was it that he wanted to know? When had you left? Why will you leave?

“Things are more complicated than they seem Doctor,” she said. “But I promise that, for once, it isn’t what you think.”

Well, that didn’t make things any easier.  

There was a buzz from her jacket pocket, and she pulled out her phone. “Well, I best be off.”

He nodded to the TARDIS. “You’re not going to come in and say hello?”

“It an anniversary,” she waved the wine at him. “Don’t worry,” she added with a teasing smile. “You’ll get a glass, even though you will thoroughly not enjoy it.”

The Doctor blinked. Was River suggesting he was there? That some future version of him was going to show up?

“What are you celebrating?” He ventured. “What kind of anniversary?”

“Yes,” she replied, with that same smug expression that she always had when he asked her questions about the future.

“River,” he said. “What is it, a marriage anniversary? First date?”

“Yes,” she said again, and her phone pinged a second time.

He resigned himself to not getting an answer.

River hiked the wine up, so it was more secure in her grasp, and gave the Doctor a wink. She strode forward, until she was almost a foot from the Doctor. He moved himself so he was in front of her. “Wait,” he said, and he was surprised by how small his voice felt.

She looked up at him. “You know I can’t tell you what’s happening.”

“I know,” he said. “But I just need to know…” He swallowed down his fear. “Y/N... is Y/N happy?”

River squeezed his arm. “Yes,” she said, a third time, but this one was softer, and far rawer than she had spoken at all.

The Doctor swallowed and allowed her to pass.

“Until we meet again,” he said to her.

She nodded, a small grin tugging at her lips. “Which, for one of us, will be sooner rather than later.”

She paused for a moment, leaning round to face him. “Tell them I say hello.”

The Doctor almost chuckled to himself, watching as River strode off.

The Doctor went to enter the TARDIS, but his hand paused against the knob. He turned, watching River a few doors down, unlatch a small wooden gate and towards an unremarkable door with freshly painted awnings.

Before she had could even knock, the door opened widely, and that blonde woman, short, with a bob haircut, stepped out with a bright smile.

He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he saw how they looked at each other. The blonde looked like she completely adored River, the same as how she adored you.

And River, River gave her that soft, content smile, the same one she gave him during their quite moments together.

Oh.

Oh.

The Doctor took one step, then another step forward, closer to the house. You must have called out because the two of you looked inside, then River was hustling the two of them into the house.

River stepped inside first but the blonde woman lingered, she seemed to be looking for something, and her eyes kept scanning the street. The Doctor took another step forward – because surely not, it wasn’t possible.

Her eyes locked onto the Doctor’s and he froze. The blonde woman smiled and gave him a small wave, her green eyes glittering in familiarity. The Doctor stood frozen; all he could do was wave back. Then she turned back into the house, and went to close the door, but, before she did, she gave him a final wink, and, behind the door, he heard a distinct, familiar buzzing sound.

He stood there for a moment, staring at the unremarkable door, just processing what he had seen.

A future version of himself wasn’t going to be showing up. She was already here.

The Doctor let a small, giddy smile form on his face.

He supposed, when the time was right, he would have to tell you some things. Namely, how he felt about you.

He let himself go back to the TARDIS, and was met with three faces that were very concerned about him, and all were doing their best not to show it.

“Alright people,” he said, and he could barely contain the joy in his voice. He grabbed your hand, twirling you round the room.

“Doctor,” you laughed out. “What’s going on?”

“Name somewhere, anywhere. Let’s go.”

Amy was leaning against the console with her arms crossed. She raised a suspicious eyebrow. “Are you okay.”

“I’m utterly brilliant Pond,” he said. “Wonderful, ecstatic, take your pick.”

“Okay,” Rory said. “Does anyone else feel like they’ve missed something.”

There was dust covering his clothes, which the Doctor assumed had to do with the secret thing the three of you did that he still – annoyingly, knew nothing about.

“Yup,” Amy said.

The Doctor composed himself. “I just ran into an old friend. River says hello.”

Amy gawked, shooting off the console. “River?”

“As in, River Song?” You added, your eyes wide.

The Doctor hummed noncommittally and weaved past Amy to reach the control. “How about Arcodius Nine? Never found out why they added the nine, so shall we?”

Before any of you could elicit a response, the Doctor drummed in the co-ordinates and off you went.  

And somewhere, down below, in that strange house on Earth, The Doctor was on a date night with his two favourite girls.

A/N^2: I had so much fun writing this, it was a bit of a struggle since it’s been so long, but honestly?? Heaps of fun. Anyway fam I have another 3 weeks of uni before semester break and I’m not in a show right now so hopefully I’ll have some time to write. You should (hopefully) be seeing a lot more of me again! I also still haven’t seen the new years special pls don’t hurt me so we’ll get around to that too!!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Neighbourly

Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, cheating, name calling, choking.

This is dark!Bucky Barnes and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Based on this drabble request: Bucky Barnes + “But you’re married.” + enemies/hate + Bucky hates reader (his wife's friend) but at the same time don't want other men near to her.

The door opened and you nearly flinched at the sharp blue eyes the greeted you, almost as blunt as the edged “hey”.

“Oh, uh, I was-- This is Anna’s,” you held out the round cake dish, you’d noticed it after last weekend’s barbecue, “thought I’d bring it back before I forgot.”

“Mmm,” Bucky eyed the little blue flowers around the rim and took it stiffly, “thanks, she’s not here so I’ll get it to her.”

“Alright, I..” you stuttered. Bucky Barnes was entirely off putting. His wife was your best friend on the street, yet he seemed to resent you for that, “well, thank you.”

You turned to flee before you withered beneath his impenetrable glare. You still didn’t know why he hated you so much, you only knew that when he came home and you were having a glass of wine with Anna, he barely acknowledged you, and on several occasions had failed to lower his voice when asking why you were there. 

It was worse even that you saw how friendly he was with the other neighbours. To you, he was a completely different man than the helpful suburban husband offering to mow Agnes’ lawn as he did his own.

“Hey,” you stopped at the bottom step and turned back to him, “that guy, you know, the one with the loud car, you wanna tell him to keep it down?”

“Brock?” you blinked and shook your head, “yeah, sure.”

“Really? Six a.m.?” he gripped the thick glass, “there’s children in this neighbourhood.”

“I get it, okay? I’ll let him know,” you sniffed and spun back to the walk.

“So he’s coming back?” Bucky asked.

You froze and breathed through your nostrils, “what do you care?”

“He’s not really… the type we welcome around here,” he sneered.

You turned on your heel and frowned at him, “As far as I recall, the HOA has no authority over my personal relationships.”

He snickered darkly and set the dish on the metal table beside the long bench. He stomped down his front steps and came up in front of you.

“Well, noise disturbances are within jurisdiction, you didn’t put on quite the show for everyone last night,” he smirked.

“Bullshit,” you refused to back down as he planted himself in front of you.

“Ah, you’re right, didn’t hear much but you left your curtains wide open, anyone could have walked by,” he looked down his nose, “I know I got a good look.”

“Dude, what is your problem?”

“You sure moved on quick,” he growled.

“Is this about Sam, really?”

“No, this is about you,” he countered, “about the scum you’re bringing into your bed and our neighbourhood.”

“Fuck off and mind your own business,” you spat and stormed away.

You marched down the sidewalk and across your yard. You slammed your front door behind you and locked it as you steamed. It was none of Bucky’s business who you were fucking. What did he care? Even if he did work with your ex, it was none of his business. You and Sam divorced over a year ago.

A knock came at the door, more a pounding. Really? Was he that desperate to be right? You ignored him and took your phone from the counter. You paired with your speaker and turned on your favourite playlist. You turned on the faucet and started loading the plates into the soapy water. He’d go away when he realised you didn’t give a fuck.

You bopped your head to the beat as you scrubbed and loaded the rack with dripping dishes. The knocking soon faded and you dried off your hands with the checker cloth and hung it back on the bar. You scrolled through your phone for a better song but it slipped from your hand as suddenly your neck was constricted by damp fabric.

You kicked out as the dishcloth was twisted around your neck and you flailed against the hard body behind you. The music disguised the noise of your struggle as you slapped at the thick forearm that snaked around your middle.

“Bucky?” you choked out.

“Shut up,” he snarled as he turned you and pushed you against the wet counter.

“What are you--” he pulled the cloth tighter and stifled your voice.

He grabbed the top of your jeans and you wriggled as he struggled to get them down. Your feet slipped on the tile as you grasped at both the noose at your throat and the edge of the counter. He jerked your body as he forced the denim to your knees and yanked down your panties just as roughly.

“Wha--” you coughed as he pushed his arm against your back and bent you over the sink, “But---you’re married-- Anna--”

“This isn’t about that,” he snarled and shifted behind you, his fly biting your flesh as he rolled down his own pants, “this is about you.”

“St--” he twisted the ends of the cloth again and your head bulged from the lack of air.

“Shhhh,” he leaned over you as the song faded out and another came on.

Sugar pie, Honey bunch…

He lined himself up and pulled your leg back. He held your head down by the faucet as he felt around and guided his tip to your entrance. You kicked wildly but not hard as your lungs burned. He slammed into you and your hips hit the counter so hard you thought they might break. He thrust again, harder, and your eyes watered.

“What are you gonna do?” he hissed as he rutted into you, “you gonna tell my wife? You think she’d believe you? You think she doesn’t see that prick driving up to your house every night? Everyone knows what a slut you are.”

You gulped up air as he loosened the cloth for a moment but before you could scream he tightened it again. He grabbed your chin with his other hand as he crashed into your over and over. He made you look out the window over your sink at the serene sight of the breeze rippling over green grass.

“No one will believe you,” he rasped and hummed as he held back a groan, “they’re all clueless, you hear that? They’re in their gardens, they’re at their barbecues, and here you are, just like a whore.”

Your eyes rolled back as your vision spotted and your temples throbbed. Your body was jolted with each rock of his hips and soon your toes didn’t even meet the floor. You faded into an agonized daze, hardly aware of his relentless pace.

“You’ll know,” he growled, “I’ll make sure you never forget this.”

☠☠☠

Please reblog and like! Let me know what you think.

[misscarolineshelby]

My Friend’s Father (Part One of Three)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Smut

Words: 2,528

Notes: Alright, no judgment. This was a dream of mine and I felt like I had to write it down. Everyone in this Fic is over the age of 18 and this Fic is in no way based on Cillian’s real family life. It’s pure filth.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

You inhaled the calming aroma of your tea as you looked out into the familiar back yard while your friend Denise puttered around in the kitchen as she made you a snack.

Her mother, Laura, had recently moved out of the house and you came to visit her for the first time since, wanting to give her and her parents some time to adjust before intruding.

Denise was the same age as you and had recently started her university degree at Trinity College. You, on the other hand, attended a different university in Galway which is where you had moved to six months ago with your parents.

For a long time, you and your parents lived across the road from Denise and her parents. You both attended high school together and had become best friends.

Now, your old house was occupied by a new family with their two adorable little children and, whilst they seemed nice, Denise felt somewhat lonely not having a friend live nearby.

Denise had a brother named Liam who was 23 and still lived at home as well. He was only two years older than you and Denise and had always liked you quite a lot.

You, on the other hand, were never really interested in him and when, one night, he kissed you, you stayed away from Denise’s house for a few weeks to avoid the awkwardness.

‘He’s been working out’ you observed as you watched Liam mow the lawns outside. The buzz of the lawn mower got louder as he finished the front and methodically mowed his way around back.

‘Yes, he has been ever since he knew that you would be staying with us for the long weekend’ Denise laughed but you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

‘Honestly, I would still prefer watching your dad mowing the lawns Denise, especially if he was shirtless and all sweaty’ you teased, knowing that your comment would get under her skin just as much as her comment about her brother got under yours.

‘Oh god, you are disgusting’ Denise said while her face evidentially turned green.

‘What? Your dad is hot’ you said before asking her where he was.

‘In Manchester, filming the last season of Peaky Blinders. He will be back tonight, unfortunately’ Denise said, enjoying to have the house for herself instead.

‘Oh, so he’s got the haircut?’ you asked somewhat excited, causing your friend to roll her eyes.

‘Yes, the infamous haircut’ she chuckled before you told her again that you thought that her father was quite attractive.

‘I know you have been saying that for years. Yet, it’s still weird and grosses me out’ Denise sighed before reminding you that you have boyfriend who would not appreciate you talking about other men like this.

‘We broke up two weeks ago. He was getting a little too possessive’ you explained before you described your two-month relationship to your friend.

‘Well, sounds like you dodged a bullet there’ Denise said, repeating the age-old break-up response and you nodded, thankful that your friend was there to cheer you up, but still feeling wounded by the whole ordeal.

‘Let’s not hit on my dad though, alright?’ she then laughed and you nodded again in agreement before Denise showed you the guestroom in which you would be staying.

***

At around 9 o’clock the front door of the house opened and you watched Denise and Liam get up to greet their father who had just arrived back home after having been away for three weeks’ straight.

‘I am glad to see that you haven’t trashed the house’ he chuckled and you quickly poked your head into the corridor to say hello.

‘Hey Mr Murphy’ you said with a wide smile when you saw him. He looked incredible, as usual.

‘Jesus, Y/N can you please start calling me Cillian’ he reminded you before greeting you and asking you how you liked Galway. You had known him for a while and he had told you on many occasions that the term ‘Mr Murphy’ made him feel rather old.

After some small talk, you and Denise returned to the living room to give him some time to tune down after having been away.

The two of you curled up on the couch in the living room with popcorn and a cheesy movie, just like old times and, at around 11 o’clock, you both decided that it was time for bed.

After getting changed into your somewhat revealing satin pyjamas, you tippy toed across the hallway into the main bathroom in order to brush your teeth when, suddenly, the bathroom door opened and Cillian stood in front of you with nothing but a white towel wrapped around him.

‘Uhm, I am sorry Mr Murphy…uhm Cillian’ you said with embarrassment, realising that you had almost barged into him but he didn’t seem bothered at all.

‘Don’t worry Y/N, it’s alright. Have a good night’ he said, getting out of the way and you stumbled into the bathroom.

Without closing the door, you starred at him walking down the hallway. How on earth could a man his age look so incredibly good you wondered as your eyes took in his toned body.

When he eventually disappeared into his bedroom and you closed the bathroom door behind you, all you could smell was the scent of the soap he had used mixed with a hint of his aftershave.

You know you shouldn’t think about your friend’s father this way, but you also couldn’t help yourself. After all, you knew that you were one of many women who were attracted to him.

***

When you finally went to bed, you felt a familiar tingle between your legs as you thought about Cillian in the shower. The image didn’t leave your mind and you wondered what he would look like without the towel wrapped around him.

With this attractive man on your mind, you slowly slid your fingers down into your panties and began to relieve yourself of the tension that had built up there.

You knew that the master bedroom was right next to yours and the thought of this turned you on even more. You knew he would be lying there, on his bed, possibly half naked.

Both windows were open and he did, indeed, lie there, on his bed, reading a book which is when he heard it, your soft moans and whimpers.

He couldn’t help but swallow harshly, knowing what you were doing right there with only a thin wall between you.

But the thought that he may be able to hear you didn’t stop you as you rubbed little circles around your tingling clit a bit faster until, finally, with one loud moan, you climaxed.

Just as you did, Cillian’s manhood stirred but he wasn’t willing to give in. He had too much self-control and his mind tried hard to focus on the book in his hands rather than the sounds you were making. You were his daughter’s friend and, whilst you were almost 22, this was highly inappropriate.

****

The next morning Cillian jolted awake when the alarm clock on his phone went off and he realised that he had forgotten to turn off the alarm when he returned home after being away filming.

It was only 7 o’clock but, since he was awake now, he climbed out of bed anyway and shuffled his way to his bedroom door. He made his way to the bathroom and shut the door behind him. He turned on the light and the shower water in one long movement.

After he got out of the shower and back into his shorts and a t-shirt, he wobbled out of the steamy bathroom into the kitchen where he smelled something burn.

Then, all of a sudden, he froze as he watched you standing there, flipping a pancake with precision on the stove without the use of utensils. You were unaware of his presence and he could even hear the song you were listening to on your phone.

You moved to the beat and Cillian was awestruck. After what he heard you do last night in the guestroom, his jaw dropped a few centimetres every time you rocked with the backbeat of the song.

You were wearing the same night shorts and spaghetti strap shirt you wore the night before but in the light of the sun you noticed your shorts were somewhat see through and your shirt was silk that didn't cover your breasts completely.

Eventually, you noticed something out of the corner of your eye. A statue you hadn't noticed before? No, it was Cillian standing in the dining room, his mouth hanging slightly and his eyes glued to the scene before him. You paused and began to turn to the frozen figure that was still in your peripheral vision.

You yanked on the string connected to your ears expertly and one of your earphones popped out of place. Then you smiled at the shock on Cillian’s face but didn't stop moving to the song playing in your head. Cillian forced his mouth closed when he made eye contact.

‘Good morning Cillian’ you said softly. He gulped and nodded quickly before moving to where the coffee machine was standing and turning it on.

‘Good morning’ he then replied before offering you a coffee which you gladly accepted, causing Cillian to move over to the stove to reach for two cups.

You didn't move to make it easier for him to reach above the stove to the cups. Instead, you made him stretch his body over you.

You watched him as he did and you saw him trying not to look at you. He failed miserably.

‘Do you want pancakes?’ you then asked with a warm smile and Cillian nodded.

‘That would be amazing, thanks’ he stammered as he was preparing the coffees.

‘Do you like blueberries?’ you then asked, still swaying to the music on your phone and Cillian nodded again but didn't realise that you were pouring pancake mix in the pan and couldn't see his response. After a moment you looked over to him.

‘Do you like blueberries?’ you asked again quietly and Cillian smiled and nodded again.

‘Yeah, I like ...’ he cleared his throat before adding the word ‘blueberries’.

He rolled his eyes at his response when you turned back around but you simply smiled and walked him over a stack of blueberry pancakes and a bottle of maple syrup.

���There you go’ you said as you put the plate in front of him and felt his eyes follow you when you turned around and back to the stove.

A few minutes later you dumped one last pancake on a third plate and put the plate in the microwave. You took your plate and cup of coffee and went to sit by Cillian where his food was barely touched.

‘Not hungry?’ you asked as you began to eat.

‘It’s early’ he responded, still trying hard not to stare at your cleavage.

Eventually though, you both ate in silence, a silence you loved and Cillian hated.

He couldn't think of a single joke the entire time you both sat there and you just smirked every time he grunted instead of speaking.

Soon you could hear Denise walk through the living room and this was Cillian hurried up and ate the last bit of his pancakes before excusing himself.

***

‘Wow, you actually got him to eat in the morning. That’s something’ Denise joked as she walked into the kitchen and saw that her father had eaten some of the pancakes you had prepared.

‘Where did he go?’ you then asked, knowing that he had excused himself without any further explanation.

‘Down to the basement, listening to some music I would say’ Denise said as she dug into the pancakes, enjoying them quite a lot.

‘Talking of music, do you have an iPhone charger? My phone is almost out of charge’ you asked, looking at the battery on your phone.

‘No, I’ve got a Samsung. Dad has iPhone though. Go downstairs and ask him’ Denise then suggested and you nodded before making your way down towards the basement.

***

You walked down to the basement and knocked before opening the door slowly as you didn’t hear Cillian answer you.

You didn’t want to intrude on his privacy but, to your surprise, when you did open the door, you saw more than you had bargained for.

Cillian was sitting in front of his computer and it was quite obvious to you what he was watching.

You could see most of the screen from the angle at which you were standing as well as his hardening cock in his hand. He reached over and squirted some lotion onto his palm, lubricating his whole shaft before beginning to stroke with soft squelching sounds.

You wondered whether you should say something or whether you should just turn around and leave. But, you did neither and, instead, you watched as you were getting more and more turned on.

He fast forwarded and jumped around through different videos, his thick cock towering over his fist at the bottom of every stroke. You could feel that you were getting wet, but starting to cramp a little in your unchanged position after so long. There was something deliciously naughty about watching him in secret.

After ten minutes Cillian settled on a video of a young lady who had remarkably familiar features. Her hair was about the same length and colour as yours and her skin tone and build were strikingly similar.

You started breathing more heavily and pressed your legs together to deal with the tingling sensation in your core. You enjoyed watching the porn actress's performance while Cillian’s heavy, throbbing shaft disappeared under his fist faster and faster. His cock was beautiful and you wanted to walk into the room so badly and replace his hand with yours.

Eventually, you could see Cillian’s abs begin to twitch and tighten as he got closer to his high as he continued to stroke his shaft.

‘Fuck’ he groaned as he started to cum, pumping jet after jet of stickiness back towards his chest, causing you to gulp.

But you knew what you had to do. You couldn’t walk in now, it would be too awkward.

Just after you watched Cillian clean himself up, you quickly tippy toed back upstairs which is where Denise was waiting for you.

‘Did you get dad’s charger?’ she asked but you simply shook your head.

‘Uhm, he didn’t have one…left it in Manchester I think’ you said with flushed cheeks.

‘Are you okay Y/N? You look a bit hot?’

‘Uhm…yes…fine…thanks’ you stammered out before telling Denise that you would go and have a shower.

[axwalker]

Creep 2: I don’t care if it hurts

HIGH SCHOOL AU

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC  (Lexie O’Brien) Book TRR

MASTERLIST HERE

Synopsis: Drake and Lexie are star-crossed lovers. Her father hates him and forces Lexie to stop any contact with Drake. Lost and heartbroken, he “bullies” her for two years until he discovers the truth of Lexie’s behavior.

A/N 1 This came up to me after I got an ask from @nestledonthaveone​ to write a fic based on the song CREEP.

I used to hear this song when I was a teenager, so when I read this ask, I immediately wanted to write something angsty but situated in high school.

A/N 2: Because they’re younger than usual, I decided to change my  FC. 

Words: 4,110 

WARNINGS: Parental abuse, domestic violence, toxic love.

THIS IS NOT YOUR USUAL MARSHMALLOW DRAKE. He was abandoned as a boy, he’s tortured and he doesn’t know how to express his love. His behavior is not excusable.

This is a dark love story. If you’re not comfortable with it, PLEASE do not read it.  

ALL MY FICS ARE 18+

TAGS ON THE COMMENTS

As this is darker than usual; I’m only tagging the people who commented in the previous chapter. If you want to get on or off the list for this fic, please do not hesitate to ask!! 

DRAKE

Even if she never looks at me or speaks to me again, she’s mine. Even if I’ve been a horrible jerk to her for two years and she pales every time I pull into the parking lot on my motorcycle, she is mine. Just seeing her with him enrages me, so I walk straight toward my usual seat, directly behind Lexie, and slam my textbook down onto the desk.

Startled, Rys looks up at me, “Hey, Walker. What’s up?” 

It’s not the first time he tries to make a move on Lexie. Last time –two years ago, we almost killed each other. Pretty boy might be an entitled ass, but he knows how to fight. Maybe he thinks Lexie is game again after all this time. He couldn’t be more wrong. 

 “Don’t you have a class this period?” I ask him. Liam cocks his left eyebrow, adjusting the straps of his backpack. 

“I fail to see why that concerns you, Creep.”  

My smile is murderous. “Get the fuck out of here before I break your face, pretty boy.”

I think he has a death wish because he looks at Lexie when he talks, “See you after class, Alexis, when your watchdog will be busy mowing my lawn.” Finally, he just shakes his head and gets out of the classroom. I resume my daily routine. Staring at the back of Lexie’s head, tracing the curve of her perfect neck, my cock getting hard over her perfect cherry scent. 

“So that’s what you like,” I say, leaning forward to speak an inch from her ears. “You like them with blond hair and pink polo shirts. Prospects for Cambridge or shit. A huge trust fund. Don’t you? A brat like you needs someone who can spoil her. I bet you’d introduce him to daddy, wouldn’t you?” 

She doesn’t respond. She never does. Her eyes stay stubbornly on the front of the class where the teacher has started writing today’s lesson on the board—my hands fist in desperation. I’m dying for her to talk to me. To look at me. Anything. “Too bad, Lexie. I’ll scare every single one of those fucking entitled boys off. You’re going to sit alone in your house on prom night, crying into your designer sheets like a baby. And I’m going to enjoy it.” 

The only sign that she hears me at all is the quickening rise and fall of her shoulders. Even that tiny display that I’ve upset her is agonizing, floods me with self-loathing, but I can never stop. She ripped out my fucking heart, and I can’t deal with the consequences of that alone. I can’t let her go. I’ll never let her go. This toxic feeling is the only thing left between us. My hands shake with the urge to take her in my arms, to stop the trembling I caused. To protect her from everything. Even myself. I’d love to move my fingers up into the silky, brown hair that reaches the middle of her graceful neck. I don’t have a lot of money; most of the cash I earn as a handyman goes to food and fixing my dad’s cabin, but I’d give every last cent for her to turn and lock those soft brown eyes on me, just one last time. Sometimes when I jerk off, all it takes is fantasizing about Lexie looking at me, giving me one of those shy smiles, and I lose it. One stroke. Maybe two. Done. I can’t breathe without having her close. And I can’t breathe with her close. It’s a strange condition, this obsession, but she’s an addiction that I just can’t give up. 

How could I? She’s intelligent, strong, and so damned gorgeous. Once upon a time, I thought she had a good heart too. But that was before she broke my pathetic heart only because I’m poor. I’ve been hurting since then, and I need her to hurt too. To know what it feels.

“Do you actually think that dumb rich boy would be a good choice for your first time, Lexie?” I grip my desk so tight it nearly breaks down, just thinking about her being kissed –touched by someone else. “At least that’s one thing us poor motherfuckers have going for us. We know how to fuck. If you went out with Rys for a while, you’d eventually give in and come slumming it one night, wouldn’t you? Knock on my rundown cabin door, begging me to fuck you as we both know you’d like.”

A pretty blush is starting to climb her neck. I have to take a deep breath to keep from kiss her pink cheeks. But I think if I got to touch her skin, my wall of bullshit would crumble. I’ve only fucked one girl. Since seeing Lexie for the first time freshman year, there’s been no one but her. I want no one else. She owns my cock as sure as she owns my heart. How easily she’s forgotten about both leaving me in agony. 

“Stop,” she breathes. I freeze. Did she just speak to me? It’s the first time in two years that she’s even remotely acknowledged my existence. 

“Lexie,” I managed to say. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. That’s all it took. One pleading word out of her mouth, and I’m done. 

“Just stop,” she says again, turning her head slightly. “Please.” 

I fall back in my chair, my heart thundering on my chest. If we weren’t in the middle of class, if I didn’t feel like a monster, I would pull her into my arms right now. I’d hug her until she stopped struggling, then beg her to hit me, bruise me, make me pay for every shitty thing I’ve ever said to her. But before long, the class is over, and she’s leaving the classroom to get out of here. To put distance between us as quickly as possible—and I have no choice but to watch her because I feel physically ill. Still, I manage to get out into the student-packed hallway, my plan to apologize for being crude and a jerk and torturing her for so long. 

My head is telling me not to apologize, though. It’s telling me she deserved it for being such a snob, for breaking me, for valuing money and status like everyone else. My damned heart is telling an entirely different story. It’s insisting there is an explanation for her behavior. Am I going to apologize or not? The decision is taken out of my hands when Lexie opens her locker, and the little gift I left before class falls down. It’s a picture I cut out from our last yearbook. In the photo is a gorgeous smiling Lexie above the caption Most Likely to Succeed. Except I’ve crossed out the caption and added my own. Most Likely to Be a Trophy Wife. Watching her read it, I almost get sick right there in the hallway. Usually, she’s perfectly composed, not betraying a trace of emotion where I’m concerned—a real Ice queen. I’ve always thought she honestly didn’t care. Today, though… she’s not pulling it off. Something is not okay with her, and I don’t like it. She has to bite down on her bottom lip to stop it from quivering as she puts the photo back into her locker, out of sight, her bright eyes finding me briefly, massacring me where I stand. Betraying with one single look how much she has been affected by my actions. Christ. She hasn’t been indifferent at all.

Before I can react, before I can call her name, she’s gone, vanished into the crowd of wild students excited to be leaving for the day. And I know what I have to do. I have to see her. To apologize. To get an explanation for everything. Tonight. I’ll return to her house for the first time in two years.

LEXIE

I’ve known this was coming all day. Sitting on the couch in my living room, trying to make myself as small as possible, I watch my father pace. He rants, gesticulating noisily. This isn’t new, my father’s rage threatening me. But it’s going to be worse than usual. Business has declined for him and it’s put his temper on a trigger. Dad’s new wife, Nancy, hates to be on a budget, and she’s been spending his money like crazy all over Paris --where she’s now. When dad gets home from the office, he’s rarely in anything but a horrible mood. A tornado eating up everything in its path. Completely terrifying. At least dad’s temper makes me forget what Drake told me today, the ugly words he said to me, the boiling anger in his eyes when he looks at me. 

“Are you even listening?” The slap across the face comes as a shock because I’d momentarily disappeared into my thoughts, but the sting quickly brings me back to reality. 

“Yes, sir,” I say, my ears ringing. “I’m listening.” 

“This C on your algebra test is going to drag your whole average down.” He’s waving the test in my face. “What a disappointment you are, Alexis. Your teacher shared my disgust.” I nod solemnly, but I’m listening for the rain outside. “I guess you’re your daughter’s mother after all. A poor Mexican girl who could barely count.” It’s not true. My mom learned English and Greek by herself, and she was a great Spanish teacher in Portavira, but my father would rather die than acknowledge how smart she was. 

“Don’t talk like that about her,” I retort.

My father snorts. “I beg your pardon?” He takes a step towards me, and I can see the threat in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry.” I hate to be such a coward, but I know what he can do to me.” I’ll do extra credit. Something to bring my grade back up to an A.” I wet my lips. “Even if I can’t manage to raise the grade, it’s not going to show up on the college transcripts I sent off with my applications.” That’s the reason I let my focus slip a little in algebra. The finish line is in sight for everyone, and we’re just waiting to find out where we’ll be accepted for college. It’s a wonder I’ve been able to maintain my focus this long in any class, considering Walker sits behind me in every period, brooding making me feel … something. At the reminder of him, I want to close my eyes and dream about him. I replay that night in my garden when he kissed me two years ago, so tenderly and passionately, when he spoke to me so sweetly and honestly before he became the second villain in my story. Someone I dread, as much as I crave the sight of him.  

At least that’s one thing us poor motherfuckers have going for us. We know how to fuck. If you went out with that punk for a while, you’d eventually give in and come slumming it one night, wouldn’t you? Knock on my trailer door, begging me to ride you right. 

Should I be ashamed of the way my body reacted to those words? I grew uncomfortably damp in the hard plastic chair, the center of my body clenching, seeming to beat like a heart. His breath on my neck made me shiver, head to toe. Even the way he scared off Liam Rys did something to me. Aroused me. Deeply. It got so bad that I broke the rules and asked him to stop. I can still hear him saying my name in that tortured way after. That shocked, uneven sound. Lexie. And whether I’m ashamed of myself for it or not, I know I’ll think of it when I touch myself tonight. His voice, his hands, his eyes obsess me. 

“College?” My father snorts, tearing the test in half. “You’re not going to college.” 

This grabs my attention. A horrible feeling is making me cold. “I’m…what? What do you mean? I applied to nine different schools. I have a four-point five GPA.” 

For the first time, I notice his red face is about more than just rage. There’s…humiliation. I’ve never seen him display that emotion. 

“None of the American colleges that accepted you offered scholarships.” 

“I’ve been accepted?” I gasp, sitting forward, heart pounding in my chest. “Where? I didn’t see the letters—” 

“All the mail in this house goes through me, Alexis. I read them. And you failed to get academic scholarships. You failed. Not that I’m surprised.”

 I don’t point out that his refusal to let me participate in any extracurricular activities is more than likely to blame for that. I’m too worried about what he’s saying, what this means. The blood is draining from my head, making the room spin around me. 

“Okay, I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry. But…we have money. We can pay tuition, can’t we? Or colleges in Cordonia are almost for free. I can go to any of them; I don’t have to go to NYU.” I have to get out of here. I have to get out of here. This is my way out. College is the escape route. I counted on going back to New York, but I can stay here and go to college in Cordonia City. 

“Listen to you, so quick to spend my hard-earned money—spoiled brat. And of course, you can’t go to college in Cordonia. What for? To end up being a schoolteacher like your mom? A housewife as Nancy?” He laughs bitterly. “No, you’ll stay here, and I’ll help you find someone suitable to marry.” 

I shake my head. “There’s financial aid, then. Loans or I can get a job and go to college in Portavira…” 

“You want to leave, just like her, don’t you? You’re all the same.”

 I don’t even flinch when he yanks me to my feet, shoving me into the wall. In fact, for the first time, I took him right into his eyes. And I can see the violence burning on them has nothing to do with me. It never had anything to do with how I behave, my choices, how hard I worked in school. How welcome I made Nancy feel or cooked a roast. It’s about him and his self-loathing. It’s his sickness. Not mine. I can also see that he was never going to send me to college. Because he wouldn’t be able to control me from a distance or stop me from sharing what I’ve been subjected to since my mother died. Not like he does now. He wasn’t physically abusive all the time. Especially not when his new wife is around. But she traveled often, and then he’d push me. Shove me. Slapped me several times. I’ll graduate at the top of my class for nothing. He knew I would all along. 

That’s when I realize I’m free. I don’t have money, but college is free in Cordonia. I can work, save a little and go to college in one or two years. I’ll be a writer; it’ll just take more time than I thought. “Go to hell,” I whisper. 

He steps back, giving me the momentary satisfaction of his shock. “What did you say?”

Liberated, I scream it this time. “Go to hell!” From the moment I sat down to have this conversation, I knew tonight would be worse than usual, but I’ve just bought myself a ticket to hell. Usually, I can retreat to the untouchable place inside of me as he unleashes his rage, but not tonight. He doesn’t stop at one or two slaps. He punches and kicks, and I’m present for every punch and kick. Every yelled insult. Finally, I start to get scared. I’m crawling across the carpet on my hands and knees, searching for a weapon I can use in my defense when I glance out the window and see Drake staring back at me, his face a mask of horror.

 Drake

 What I’m seeing just isn’t possible. It can’t be real. My head won’t accept it. Not until her terror-filled eyes meet mine through the window and the truth pounds on my chest, leaves no doubt that this is real life. Lexie’s father is beating her. Her mouth is bloody, one of her eyes beginning to swell, arms and legs visibly weakened. I can barely fucking process it before my body is springing into action, desperate to protect her. To put a stop to the worst thing I have ever seen. What the fuck. Scorching hot rage takes over. I kick in the front door and throw myself between Lexie and her father. His fist is raised, but it pauses when he sees me, his momentary confusion giving me the time I need to knock him out cold. It only takes one right uppercut from someone his own size, and he goes down, his blank, glassy eyes staring at nothing, mouth opened. It’s not satisfying enough.

Nothing will ever be satisfying enough. I want to kill him, destroy him, but my Lexie is struggling for breath behind me, and she’s all I can think about. Turning, I approach her, my heart threatening to jump off my chest. As gently as I can, I catalog all of the cuts and purpling skin. No. No. Who could do this to her? Who could lay a finger on her in anything but reverence? Get her out of here. Calling her name, I reach down to pick her up, but she flinches and hurries back, bringing her body up against the wall. 

“Don’t touch me!” Those words filled with fear rip the soul clean out of my body. My hands drop limply to my sides and two years come rushing back, hitting me in the chest like a hammer. Every word, every action. Everything I did to make her life harder when this is what she’s been dealing with at home? Fuck me. 

“Lexie…” My voice is as kind as I can. I feel broken. “I’m sorry. I came here to apologize. For everything.” 

She puffs a humorless laugh, testing her cut lip with the tip of her tongue. “Bet you weren’t expecting to see this.” 

“If I knew this was happening, I would have been here a long time ago. I would have stopped it. I swear Lex.” 

Her expression can only be described as stunned. Maybe even a little pissed. “You are not my savior, Drake. You are my enemy. You’ve been for two years, and I want nothing else from you now.”

 “I am not your enemy.” Those words barely make it out of me, my chest hurts so fucking bad. “Don’t say that.” 

Unsteadily, she uses the wall to try and stand. I try to help her, but she recoils, and it’s a dagger straight into the center of my throat. Nothing less than I deserve, though, isn’t it? Her distrust of me is entirely my fault. I’ve made her hate me. There has to be some way to fix what I’ve done. Please God, let there be away. But right now, my main concern is her physical safety. Knowing she’s been in danger all along is unbearable. I only decided to come here tonight a few hours ago. What if I didn’t? What if I arrived an hour later? The possibilities are going to haunt me for the rest of my life. From the floor, her father groans, shifting slightly. 

“We need to get you out of here,” I say, anxious to get her free of this place. “Now, Lexie. I need to get you somewhere safe.” 

She’s standing now. Leaning against the wall and cradling one arm to her stomach, regarding me warily. “How do I know I’m safe with you?” It’s so much worse that her question is honest. Not meant to hurt me. She honestly doesn’t know if I pose a threat. It guts me where I stand. 

“You are the safest with me,” I say thickly, cursing myself. Wanting to erase the last two years so badly, my hands shake. “Please believe me. I’d die before hurting you. I’d never, Lexie. I’d never do something like that.” 

Her father rolls over onto his back and slurs a few words before losing consciousness again. Still, the sound of the older man’s voice seems to scare Lexie, “I…maybe you can just give me a ride to…a motel maybe?” She pushes off the wall, her step uneven as she walks toward the stairs. “I need some things from my room.” 

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her we don’t have time, but I’m just grateful she’s trusting me enough to leave with me, so I don’t argue. I just wait until she’s halfway up the stairs, then tie her father’s hands behind his back with my belt in case he wakes up before we leave. I have no problem knocking him out a second time, but Lexie has seen enough violence for one night. Cautiously, I walk up the stairs toward the light coming from a room halfway down the hall. This place is a far cry from my home. It’s elegant and clean, and tasteful, but it lacks any warmth whatsoever. It’s cold, like a museum. Turning the corner into Lexie’s room, it’s time to hate myself all over again. There is nothing on the walls, none of the expensive furnishings. Just four white walls, a bed, and a dresser that doubles as a desk. Several textbooks. She looks back at me over her shoulder as if judging my reaction, and I keep my features impassive, though I’m dying on the inside. 

“What can I do?” I ask. 

“How long do we have?” 

“As long as you need.” It’s physically painful not to pull her into my arms when I’m standing this close, and she’s hurt. Sad. Yet full of more inner strength than I’ve ever witnessed in another human being. I’m lucky just to be in her presence. I fucked up royally. And if she allows me back in, I’ll never do it again. It’s probably, definitely, too much to hope for. Being allowed back in. She doesn’t even look sure about having me in her room. Let alone her heart. I was trying to protect my own heart, but I lost it instead. 

 “Um…” She closes her eyes to focus, a familiar trait I’ve seen in class countless times. “There is a black bag in the hallway closet. Can you just stuff anything into it from the bathroom that looks useful?” 

Ask me to bring you a unicorn. I’ll find a way to do it. “Sure.” We work in silence, Lexie taking things out of drawers and adding them to the bag, which I’ve left open on the floor. I add toiletries from the bathroom, and once it’s zipped, I wait, watching her hesitate in the doorway. 

“Lexie?” Conflicted chocolate eyes meet mine. 

“I can’t just leave, can I?” 

“You’re not safe here, baby,” I say softly, trying to keep the residual rage at bay because it’s the last thing she needs. Not to mention she’s had her fill with negativity from me. No more. “How long…how long?” 

She shrugs, the saddest expression in her eyes. “My mom died five years ago. Ever since then, it’s gotten worse and worse. Although I never had a chance to talk to anyone about what happened behind closed doors, you know? I don’t think a person can evolve into a monster. It’s inside him.”

 “I don’t know,” I say. “I became one, didn’t I?” 

That gives her pause, forms a line between her delicate brows. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.” 

She starts to walk past me, stops, standing close enough to fill my nose with cherry. “He told me if I ever spoke to you ever again, he would hurt me. Ruin you, have you evicted. Make sure you never got hired again. I didn’t mean to…hurt you. Or hurt your feelings, if that’s what happened.” 

That revelation destroys me, sets me on fire. “Jesus, Lexie. You were protecting me? And I…I tortured you for it?” I twist the neck of my T-shirt, trying to calm down, but it doesn’t work. I’ll never be calm again “I’m so fucking sorry.” 

She glances at the doorway, then back at me, eyes closed again in that way that says she’s thinking. “All I want from you now is a ride out of here, okay? And on Monday morning, you’ll stop.” She opens her shining eyes again. “No more bullying, Drake. If you’re really sorry, you’ll do that for me.” 

Fuck. I couldn’t say one more single shitty thing to her if my life depended on it. Put me at gunpoint, and I’d rather get shot at than torture this girl for one more second. But I’m highly, painfully aware that with an end to the bullying comes an end to the possessiveness. No more scaring off guys who show interest in her. No more getting close enough in class to count the hairs on her head, to smell her sweet fragrance. And to tell the truth, I’m pretty fucking worried I don’t know how to give those things up completely. I don’t think I can physically do it. This addiction with Lexie isn’t something I can cut off. A leg would be easier to sever. But my hesitation is causing her eyes to worry. If I don’t agree to, essentially, let her go… she’s not going anywhere with me. And that means her safety won’t be guaranteed. I need it to be. More than anything. 

“No more bullying,” I say, finally. A moment later, I follow her out of the room and down the stairs, trying desperately to count the hairs on her head before I no longer have the chance.

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

WPP - Kenny (We’re The Millers)

This has been sitting in my drafts for months and I was struggling to finish it, but, a bright light ascended from the heavens, in the form of an angel, and that angel’s name is @gladerscake

Big thanks to them for helping me out and finishing this imagine. Go follow them and give all the love and support you can muster!

~~~~~~~~~~

Being in the witness protection program was...interesting.

It definitely was not what you were expecting, but then again, you didn’t know helping out a person you cared about would get you involved in a murder, yet here you are.

You had to leave everything behind, not that you had that much of a life to begin with, but it was comfortable. Now, everything was different. New home in a new state, even a new last name. Thankfully, you got to keep your first name, you were grateful for that at least.

You were surprised to find the most annoying thing was the neighbourhood that the program placed you in. It’s like it was made for Mormons or something, your neighbours were too nice, at least the house to the right of yours. You didn’t really know who lived in the house to the left, working from home had the benefit of never going outside and the only reason you knew who lived to your right was cause those neighbours were the type of people to introduce themselves.

Yuck.

But still, you couldn’t help but be a little curious.

You did know, however, that they had only recently moved in since the one morning truck woke up before your alarm rang that morning. You were grouchy the rest of the day, thus you’ve been slightly petty towards your “new” neighbours since then. You definitely needed to work on your attitude...one day.

After being inside your house for more than a week, you decided you wanted some vitamin D, which you rarely ever did so you must’ve been seriously deprived.

You walked out of the door leading to the backyard with a book in hand, frowning when you saw how overgrown the grass was from your laziness. You told yourself you’d do it later, and by later you meant you would mow your yard when you started to hate yourself enough to the point where you felt too guilty leaving it alone.

You huffed as you sat in one of your lawn chairs that you bought when you moved in, lying to yourself that you were going to spend more time outside when you knew you wouldn’t. A first for everything, you supposed.

A few chapters in, you heard a door open and shut in your neighbour’s backyard, but you thought nothing of it, almost too entranced in your book.

You smiled to yourself when you started to hear 1990s R&B playing softly, not your cup of tea but you enjoyed it occasionally. Don’t Go Chasing Waterfalls had just started playing when you heard the neighbour’s back door slammed. “Dude, turn that shit off! You’ve been playing that song constantly and I’m actually getting sick of it. God.” You heard an angsty female voice.

Oh no...you lived next a family.

“Hey!”

You flinched, noticing a blonde girl was talking you. “Uh, hey?” You slowly closed your book, reluctantly walking over to the fence separating the backyards when the girl motioned you over.

“Haven’t seen you around before, just move in?” She asked, smirking slightly, looking you up and down.

You mocked her smirk, not liking the almost condescending look she was giving you. “No, been here for awhile. That’s how I know you’ve only just moved in a few weeks ago.”

The girl’s smirk only grew. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N. Yours?”

“Casey, and that loser is Kenny.” She pointed to the table behind her, seeing a blonde boy sitting somewhat dejectedly in one of the chairs fiddling with a small CD player. “Hey, TLC, get over here!” The boy looked to Casey with a panicked expression, visibly looking like he wasn’t sure if the girl meant it or not. She rolled her eyes, “Come on, dude!”

The boy nodded, frantically walking away to join Casey at the fence. “Hey.” He stuttered, blushing when he noticed your eyes on him.

Casey rolled her eyes yet again. “Yeah, this is Kenny.”

Kenny waved quite adorably, giving you a tight lipped smile. “Did you just move in?”

“No, I-”

“We’ve already had this talk, she’s been here longer than we have.” Casey interrupted, making your blood boil a little bit, her attitude almost worse than yours.

Kenny frowned slightly, but covered it up with a smile. “Oh.”

“Yep. We’ve already become besties.” You said sarcastically, grinning widely, making Kenny genuinely smile a little.

“Kids!” A middle aged man with a stupid haircut, to you anyway, walked over with hesitant look on his face. “Who’s this?”

“Y/N, your neighbour that’s lived here longer than you have. Saved you the trouble of telling him yourself, Casey.” You sneered.

“Oh. Well, I’m David and we’re the Millers! My wife, Sarah, is at the market right now, but I’m sure she’d be glad to meet you sometime.” He smiled widely, making you uncomfortable.

“Uh, dad, chill out. You’re gonna scare away the only girl I find suitable to be friends with in this shit neighbourhood.” Casey whispered harshly.

You didn’t really want to be friends with Casey, you never really got along with girls. Clearly, reading outside was a bad choice...

“Ha ha, if you sass me one more time today, you will be grounded young lady.” David forced another smile.

“Uh, Dad...”

“Shut up, Kenny.”

You quickly realized where the Kenny kid was in the family food chain. It was a shame, the dude was pretty easy on the eyes and seemed nice from what you’ve seen. “Look, I’m just gonna go. Nice meeting you fine folks...” You waved awkwardly, turning around and practically speed walking inside your house.

Well, that was fun...never going outside ever again.

The overall encounter put you in a sour mood, so when the doorbell rang you prayed to god that it wasn’t the yearly check in with law enforcement cause you’d probably get yourself in trouble with that attitude of yours.

You were mildly shocked to see that awkward Kenny guy outside your door, his eyes trained on his feet before you opened the door. “Kenny Miller, right?”

“Uh...yeah, Miller. Uh, I just want to apologize for my, uh, family’s behavior. They don’t have the best of manners, but they’re good people, I swear!” He ranted at such a quick pace that it almost flew right over your head. “So, yeah, sorry.”

You chuckled at his nervousness. “You don’t have to be sorry, especially on the behalf of your family. They don’t seem like the type to appreciate it anyway.”

His eyes widened, holding up his hands and shaking his head. “No, no, no, it’s not like that! They, uh, appreciate me.” You kept your mouth shut, giving him a sympathetic look with a soft smile. He sighed. “It’s that obvious, huh?”

“To me, it is. I’ve been in that situation before, so it’s not that hard to notice.”

“Oh...well, they can be nice sometimes I guess.”

“I hope so. Well, it was nice to meet you, Kenny.” You stuck your hand out, smiling when he hesitated but shook your outstretched hand gently.

A week later, you and Kenny actually became friends despite the two of you being almost complete opposites. He was able to poke through your cynical exterior, which was extremely rare for someone to do. He made you laugh, smile, and actually enjoy life when you were with him. You didn’t like it at first, but his adorkable personality won you over.

Kenny was more than overjoyed, he finally had a friend, not one out of pity anyway. The first time you two had hung out, he came “home” with a huge grin on his face. Of course, Casey had to tease him about it all the time.

“I still don’t understand how she can be friends with that loser and not me!” Casey ranted. “It doesn’t make sense!”

“Casey, stop calling Kenny a loser, please.” Sarah sighed, tapping away on her keyboard.

As soon as Sarah said that, Kenny walked through the door with another grin on his face. “Hey, Ma!”

“You don’t have to call me that here, hon.” Sarah voiced, shutting her laptop and walking out of the kitchen, but she smiled to herself.

“Pop your cherry yet?” Casey smirked evilly.

Kenny immediately blushed. “I told you, we’re just friends...”

She rolled her eyes. “You obviously want to be more than just friends with her. You should just ask her out and get it over with.”

“But...Melissa...”

Casey huffed loudly. “Dude, I already told you, she’s probably moved on by now. She was a total babe, she can and probably has done way better than you.”

“Hey...” Kenny frowned, to which Casey just shrugged, her eyes training back to her phone. He sighed as he sat down across from his “sister.” “I do like her...but I don’t know how to bring it up. I’m awful at talking to girls about...that kind of stuff.”

Casey snorted. “Yeah, no kidding.” But she dropped her amused smirk when she saw Kenny glaring. “Sorry, sorry.” She sassed. “I mean, it did work out with the ginger to be fair, but we have to stay in this shithole until further notice. But I really do think you should shoot your shot with what’s her name.”

Kenny rolled his eyes. “Y/N.”

“Yeah, whatever. Just-”

“That girl is bad news.” David suddenly voiced, walking into the kitchen.

“What do you mean by that?” Casey asked.

“Uh, hello? Pay attention to your surroundings instead of that stupid phone of yours to see that we are in witness protection. We can’t trust any of these creepy neighbours.”

“Uh, I think you’re a tad bit paranoid, father dearest.”

“Y/N’s really cool though!” Kenny expressed.

David rolled his eyes. “But we don’t really know her, we don’t know if she’s a snitch or something.”

Casey laughed. “Wow, you really are paranoid, dude.”

“Ha ha, very funny, just go to your room and listen to your Metallicas and AC/DCs.”

Casey’s face contorted into a disgusted scowl. “I don’t listen to that garbage.”

“Shut up.” David simply replied, making Casey stand up and storm out of the room and up the stairs. “Look, Ken, I get you like this girl, but you need to be careful. Don’t say things you shouldn’t and all that. You have a tendency to not know when to shut your mouth. So, don’t do that, kay?”

Kenny nodded curtly, avoiding David’s eyes as he felt his face heat up in slight anger. He knew he had some...issues with keeping his mouth shut about things that should be kept a secret, but he grew up, right? He’s not as naïve as he was before they went to Mexico, but his “family” still treated him like he was five. Plus, he knew you weren’t the type to be a snitch.

While Kenny was dealing with feeling underappreciated, you were having your own set of issues to handle. Today was the day for a check up with law enforcement to make sure you were on your best behavior. You always were, but it still made you anxious to no end. And you prayed that Kenny wouldn’t rush in to your house like he got into the habit of doing when you were interrogated.

Of course, that didn’t happen. 

“For fuck’s sake...” You muttered under your breath when you saw Kenny’s shocked and scared face when he saw you sitting with a couple local police officers.

On your end, it just looked like he was scared of police officers. But Kenny’s mind immediately went haywire, thinking that you called them over to investigate them even though the police were already informed of “the Millers” situation. 

“Kenny, now’s not a good time.” You sighed.

“No, no, it’s okay.” The police officer in front of you said. “We’re done here anyway.” He walked out of your house with his partner, leaving you and Kenny in an awkward silence.

“What was that all about?” Kenny asked, not being able to control the bitter tone in his voice. “Did you think we’re that bad or something?”

“Kenny, I-”

“We’ve been doing really well here!” Kenny interrupted. “No problems with anybody, been on our best behavior.”

“Kenny.”

“I don’t wanna go to jail. I can’t go to jail. We’ve only been here for a couple months.”

“Kenny, stop!” You finally yelled, losing your temper. “They were here to check up on me, for fuck’s sake.”

Kenny’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but still had a slight expression of panic. “Here for you? B-But-”

“I’m in witness protection, you dweeb, same as you.”

“Oh...Wait, how did you know I’m in witness protection?”

“Your family,” You finger quoted, “looks nothing like you. All of you don’t look anything alike. How paranoid and secretive that David is, it wasn’t too hard to put things together. You rambling off like an absolute moron a minute ago just reaffirmed my theory.”

Kenny frowned. “Dang, I thought I had worked on that.”

You smiled slightly. “It’s alright, Ken. I’m no snitch, and I’m not very judgmental about someone’s past. What did you even do though? You’re definitely not the type to break the law.” You chuckled.

“Oh, well, we kinda smuggled some drugs across the Mexican border.” He stuttered.

“Holy shit, dude! That’s sick! What was it? Was it coke?” You grinned, eager to learn.

Kenny blinked at your excitement, but obliged to all your questions, sitting down next to you. “No, it was marijuana.”

Your face slightly dropped in excitement. “Oh. I really think weed should be legal. It’s stupid, it’s not even a hard drug.”

“Well, we’re lucky we even made it out alive. But what did you go through to get yourself here?”

Now, you definitely didn’t judge past crimes of others, if they’ve atoned for it and changed that is, but you had no idea if Kenny would judge you. You actually found yourself not wanting him to look at you in a different light, and you’ve never felt that way before. 

Kenny seemed perfectly sweet, almost too sweet to judge anyone, but on the other hand...the stuff that had landed you in the program was definitely heavier than some weed smuggling. 

Maybe it would be too much for him. Maybe it would be best to just make something up, something less horrible, something he wouldn’t be too shocked by.  As tempting as that route felt, the idea of lying to him weirdly didn’t sit well with you, though. 

Kenny was quick to notice the lengthy pause that followed his question, as well as the way your shoulders tensed and your eyes averted to the parquet floor. Oh no. Had he pried into something too personal? Was he an idiot for asking?

“Oh, um...you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to!” Kenny hurried to assure you, slight panic beginning to etch his bluish-green eyes, his fists clenching and unclenching involuntarily. “I was just curious, is all! I’m sorry if it’s too persona-“ 

“It’s okay!” To his surprise, you pulled on a tight-lipped smile, giving him a look as nonchalant as you could manage at the moment. “Really, you don’t have to apologize for asking. Plus, you already told me about your thing, so...” You trailed off, softly, wondering how to proceed. 

As much as you resented the thought of Kenny seeing you differently, you decided even that unpleasant outcome would still be better than lying to him. You’d rather not. You liked Kenny. Despite not having spent a tremendous amount of time together, you could tell he was a genuinely good person, and you definitely enjoyed his company. Not to mention, it would be a blatant lie if you said you weren’t at all attracted to him. 

Casey may have spent most of their interactions calling him a “loser” in some form or another, but you couldn’t be farther away from agreeing with her. A part of you was positively annoyed with the way she treated him. Then again, taste is subjective. It wasn’t Casey’s fault if she didn’t have a good sense of it. 

With a deep intake of air, you nervously flipped a loose strand of hair over your shoulder, still avoiding direct eye-contact with Kenny. “I, uh...It’s a rough one, really. And kind of a long story. I wouldn’t wanna dump something like that on you, if you’d rather not hear it” 

He tentatively pursed his plump lips, but nonetheless nodded for you to keep going. “I’m sure I can handle it! Whatever it is, I’m not gonna judge you, Y/N. I promise!” 

Promise, huh? Guess you were going to have to see about that. 

Trying to ignore the rapidly increasing pace of your heart and slight tremble in your fingers, you began your story. 

You didn’t want to go into too much detail, for the fear of oversharing, but you did tell him as much as you felt you could. About how you used to have a friend...a pretty close friend, who you cared about a great deal, who had always been kind and generous, alas, a bit of a troublemaker.

About how she had fallen in with the wrong crowd, something you admittedly failed to see coming. How that crowd turned out to be a notoriously vicious gang that had it out for some other poor girl, who had apparently slept with one of the gang leaders’ boyfriend without realizing it. 

How that gang, your friend included, lured her onto a rooftop to “fuck with her” and “teach her a lesson.” Only that night, they went too far and ended up pushing her off. The girl died instantly, and due to the heaping pile of evidence, it wasn’t a particularly long investigation. Almost everyone involved were arrested shortly after, and you, having been brought in as one of the witnesses, had a choice whether you wanted to testify against your friend or not. 

At first you weren’t sure if you wanted to do that and make matters worse for her. However, after some much-needed reflection and consideration, you decided it would be the right thing to do. Someone had died, and your friend played a part in it. You couldn’t turn a blind eye to something that big simply because you two were close. 

Your friend was put away, along with several other gang members. Still, quite a few of them were still out there, and they definitely seemed like the type to hold serious grudges. You were no longer safe at your former home, and now...well, there you where. 

Kenny listened intently all the while, not once daring to interrupt, not even to ask a question. By the way your breathing had hitched and your lips had stuttered at certain parts, he could tell how hard that must’ve been for you to go through in the first place, and how unsettling it was for you to revisit those moments in order to share your story with him. 

You didn’t notice, but as you were nearing the end, Kenny had inched to sit closer to you, his large hand carefully landing on your shoulder with a soft but warm-hearted squeeze. He had briefly hesitated in making that move, but the need to offer you comfort and reassurance overpowered his nervousness. His only hope was that you wouldn’t flinch at his touch, and so he felt a huge wave of relief wash over him when you did no such thing. 

“So...that’s about it. Sorry, I know it’s a fucking bummer story, compared to your weed smuggling adventure.” You attempted a chuckle, only it came out as more of a sad scoff. 

Your heart was still pounding and you were still reluctant to look up at him. Although, as you finally noticed Kenny’s warm hand gently squeezing your shoulder, you felt a soothing brush of comfort spread through your limbs, and you couldn’t deny how nice it felt. 

“Whoa...that’s...I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” Kenny frowned, unsure of what the right thing to say could be. 

“It’s okay, really. I’ve had some time to process it and move on. Well...not completely, but I’d say I’m doing much better now.” 

Kenny went silent for a minute, clearly still digesting the information, and the worries you had about him looking at you differently came back in full force. You opened your mouth to ask him about it, but he beat you by a millisecond, speaking first. “Why...why were you so nervous about telling me?” 

So he had noticed. Figures. The art of the poker face wasn’t something you’d ever truly mastered. It sometimes annoyed you how easy your anxious state was to spot, but there wasn’t much you could do about that. 

“I don’t know, I...I guess I didn’t want you to see me as a snitch or judge me-“

“Judge you?” Kenny interrupted, sounding confused about the mere insinuation. “For what, not sticking up for your friend when she had got herself involved in a murder?” 

“I mean, she was still my friend, so...” 

“So what? That doesn’t change the fact that she got in the middle of something so horrible, that could’ve been avoided, if she had paid more attention to who she hung around.” 

You couldn’t say you had expected that. It was almost weird hearing Kenny talk that way, but you were definitely relieved to hear where he so firmly stood in regards to the whole “judging you” idea. 

You bit your bottom lip in agitation as a thought you had been wrestling with for a while creeped its way into your mind again. “Sometimes I feel like maybe I could’ve done something...could’ve checked up on her more or somehow stopped her from hanging out with them...maybe I could’ve kept her from having anything to do with it.” Your voice grew quieter, sounding barely above a whisper as guilt flashed through your eyes, your muscles tensing, uneasily, at the thought. Kenny was immediately closer, his arm wrapping around you, as if trying to shelter you from your own thoughts. 

“Come on, don’t do that to yourself, Y/N. You can’t control the actions of others, not even your friends. Least of all your friends, probably.” 

You allowed a small smile to touch the corner of your lips as you instinctively leaned into Kenny, his closeness calming you, his soft reassurances shushing the self-deprecating thoughts he could sense looming over you. 

“Yeah, you’re right, I guess. I just try not to think about it often, it really sucks diving into that stuff.” 

“Of course it sucks. I just hope you know that none of it was even a little bit your fault. From what I can tell after spending some time with you...you’re a really good person, Y/N.” 

You looked up at him, noting the way your faces were only a few inches apart by that point. The close proximity brought a rosy tinge to your cheeks. “You think so?” 

“I do! Why wouldn’t I? You’re smart, you’re funny when you want to be, you’re great to be around, and heck, you’re one of the very few people I know who doesn’t make me feel like I’m constantly doing something wrong.” 

Hearing that made you simultaneously happy and sad. With the way Kenny’s “family” treated him almost around the clock, it was no wonder he felt that way. You wished he didn’t have to. You believed someone as wonderful as him deserved so much better. If only he had at least one person close to him who would tell him how much better he was than most guys out there, how anyone should be lucky to call him a friend... or maybe more than just a friend. 

In that moment, you found yourself thinking what it would be like if you were that person. You imagined it would feel the same way it always did when you were around Kenny, only better. In all honesty, you couldn’t find a single reason not to try. What harm was there in trying? Oh, that’s right...something could go badly wrong, and then whatever friendship you had with him would be in shambles.

That’s what the pessimistic side of you thought about it. But the other side, the more hopeful and affectionate side, had other ideas. 

Even though you and Kenny were brought into the witness protection program by very different circumstances, you were still in it together. You didn’t have to hide your true identities or your past, at least not from each other. That had to count for something, right? 

While you were taking a second to collect your thoughts, Kenny was facing some inner turmoil of his own. With the newfound closeness of the two of you, his cheeks were positively crimson, his pulse quickening, heart thumping against his rib cage. Any doubts he’d had about whether or not he wanted to ask you out had vanished - he absolutely wanted to do that. But how? When? Would now be a good time? He wasn’t sure. Yet, he was very aware of the fact that if he were to lean in just a little bit closer, he could just kiss you right then and there... 

Kenny briefly remembered David’s “count to three” method, but for some reason it didn’t feel right to use. Not with you, not like that. All he wanted was to just go with the feeling, and that feeling was beckoning him to your lips. 

Oh, screw it. If you were to push him away, so be it. He would probably die a little inside and never attempt to do anything like that ever again, but at least he would know your immediate answer. 

“Kenny...?” 

Your soft questioning voice reached his ears as his gaze trailed over your delicate face, taking in every feature, and with a soft but resolute breath, he leaned in. 

Your eyes went wide when Kenny’s lips landed on yours. You froze for a second, not knowing what to do. Luckily, your instantly skipping heart gave you the hint you needed to flutter your eyes closed and melt into it. 

He kissed you so gently, so carefully, but not like he was afraid of scaring you away. More like he wanted you feel completely safe and give you every chance to stop it the second you wanted to. 

You didn’t. 

Instead, you wrapped an arm around his neck, your fingertips brushing the ends of his short sandy hair, your lips moving seamlessly and warmly against his own.

Kenny couldn’t believe you were actually kissing him back, but damn, he was thrilled that you were. He felt the affection in him surge as the softness of your lips put his mind in a haze. His hand timidly slid down to your waist, bringing you closer to him, and you willingly went, deepening the kiss as you did. 

After a few blissful moments you finally broke away from his lips, your noses nearly brushing each other as you looked up at him through glimmering eyes. “I was almost convinced I would have to do that myself...” 

Kenny breathed a soft chuckle, not taking his gaze off of yours. “To be honest, so was I...” 

You grinned at his burning cheeks, releasing a light chuckle of your own before reconnecting your lips for another kiss, swallowing the muted grunt that rumbled from Kenny’s throat. 

Things were going to get better now. For both of you, you were sure of it. Kenny was finally going to have someone who would show him what it’s like to be truly wanted and appreciated, and you were going to have someone who wouldn’t dream of hurting you and who you knew would always do his best to understand you, give you everything he could give. 

Maybe this whole witness protection program thing wouldn’t be such a tedious affair, after all.

~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks again for helping me @gladerscake​ , you’re the sweetest ❤

[dimitrescus-bitch]

Mrs. Robinson (Alice Cooper x Reader)

Song: Mrs. Robinson by Simon & Garfunkel

“Y/n, you’re here early,” Betty said as she watched you tending to the garden outside of their house. It was true, you were at the Cooper residence about three hours earlier than what you were supposed to. However, you technically hadn’t left yesterday, but Betty didn’t know that. She had been out with her boyfriend and friends all evening, which gave you quite a few hours to enjoy Alice’s company. 

Hal had hired you back whenever you’d been in high school to do the things around the house that he didn’t want to. Four years of that and Alice finally found out about it. She hadn’t made him fire you, and even after their divorce, she had kept you around. Although, then it was for a different reason. You were still doing maintenance for their house, but you were also doing Alice Cooper. 

“I’m going out of town this afternoon, so I told your mom I’d get everything done in the morning,” you told Betty. Technically, it wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. Alice was taking you out on a date, which had to be out of town where the locals wouldn’t see you. 

“Oh, well have fun. Bye.” Betty left and you went back to finishing the gardens up. By the time that Alice had come outside to check on you, you were washing her car. You could see her in the reflection of a window, standing on the porch with her morning coffee as she watched you work. 

“Mind if I come in and change?” you asked Alice, who just let you step inside. She came in after you and shut the door. You were halfway up the stairs when you felt Alice’s arms wrap around your waist. You turned around and stepped aside so that she could stand next to you. 

“Good morning,” Alice said as she kissed you. You smiled into it and reached for her hand. “Nice work sneaking out before Betty woke up.” 

“I try,” you said with a wink. Alice tugged you upstairs and started the shower. The two of you showered together quickly, Alice not helping you to keep your mind out of the gutter or your hands to yourself. The two of you got dressed, Alice made you a quick breakfast, and then the two of you left. 

“Do you ever think that what we’re doing is wrong?” Alice asked you. 

“When did you meet me?” you asked Alice. 

“A couple years ago when you were mowing the lawn while Hal was inside drinking a beer while he watched the game,” Alice answered. 

“I was 18 then, almost 19 actually. We didn’t start this until last year, so we’re fine Alice. There’s nothing wrong with our relationship because we’re two consenting adults,” you explained to her. “Some people might judge us, but it’s not like we can’t handle that.” 

“I was technically still married then,” Alice said with a heavy sigh. “Sympathy isn’t something extended towards me often. I doubt Betty would be okay if she found out about us.” 

“Do you love me? Do I make you happy?” you asked Alice. She nodded and you placed your hand over hers. “Then it doesn’t matter. It isn’t like you’re Mrs. Robinson and we’re having some huge affair. Give it a week, there will be a whole new thing washing over Riverdale and they’ll forget all about us.” 

[beautiful-and-terrible]

dazed ’n’ confused (part 2)

A/N: omg this part was so much longer than i ancitipated sorry T__T and i promise in part 3 we will get some fun stuff ;)

Ship: Rodrick Heffley x OFC

Warnings: none (for this chapter)

---

The whole day, Nicole was distracted. She sat in her lifeguard chair, biting her nails, eyes concealed by her sunglasses and gazing at nothing. The pool manager ended up telling her off because she let multiple people dive off the board at the same time. She was a mess on the way home, too. She stopped at her favorite gas station to get slushy and almost left her bike behind, aimlessly wandering toward her house before she remembered she hadn’t walked there in the first place.

She got home and hopped in the shower, rinsing off the sunscreen and sweat, trying to forget how warm Rodrick’s hands felt under her own, how she had been close enough to smell laundry detergent and cinnamon gum. His dark eyes and full lips. 

She almost slipped getting out of the shower.

She tried to write music and get him off her mind, but all of her songs ended up sounding sad and sappy or slow and sultry. It was maddening.

The next day, Saturday, Nicole woke up more irritated than usual. She normally wasn’t a morning person, but this was next level. She did her makeup quickly and threw her hair into a pair of messy french braids. She decided to treat herself to an ice coffee, so she grabbed her wallet and headed outside to her bike.

Despite it being 9:30 in the morning, Rodrick was already outside… mowing grass? Nicole had never once seen him do that before. Giving him a short wave, she coasted down her driveway and headed into town toward the Starbucks. 

As she stopped at the sign at the end of their street, she looked back. Rodrick was looking in her direction, but Nicole shook away the thought that he could’ve been staring. She looked both ways quickly before pedaling quicker than she had before.

The Starbucks was about a 20 minute bike ride from her house, and Nicole usually took this time to listen to a podcast or her favorite album. This morning, she chose “Dr. Feelgood” by 

Motley Crue - she was a sap, sue her. She liked to remember the little things about people. She definitely recognized the chord progressions and drum patterns replicated in Loded Diper’s songs - at least, the songs that she had heard muffled through the garage door as she hung her head out her window to listen.

A short time later, Nicole hopped off her bike and locked it in place, skipping with anticipation for the sweetest, creamiest ice coffee she could get her little hands on. She walked up to the cashier, browsing the menu quickly.

“Hi, Welcome to Starbucks - what can I get started for you?”

“I’ll do a iced caramel macchiato with almond milk and light ice, please.”

“For sure, anything else?”

“No, thanks,” Nicole said, pulling out a five dollar bill and some ones.

“Hey, aren’t you new in town? You came into school at the end of the semester.”

Nicole looked up at the cashier, just now noticing what she looked like. She was cute in a pixie, petite kind of way, with short brown hair and big green eyes. If Nicole hadn’t been so enamored with Rodrick, she probably would’ve developed a big whopping crush on this girl, too.

“Yeah, I’m Nicole. You go to PVH, too?”

“I’m Caitlin - we were in bio together, I think.” Nicole wracked her brains, thinking back to the last bit of school she could remember.

“Oh, right, we partnered up a couple times.” Nicole said, smiling.

“Hey, if you want, a couple of friends and I are having a party tonight. You should come,” Caitlin said, flashing a dimpled smile. Nicole felt her tummy flip - mostly from excitement, and the elation of feeling included by her peers.

“For sure, just text me the number.” Nicole wrote down her number on a hot beverage sleeve and slid it towards Caitlin.

“Cool, see you then. Oh, and your drink will be right over there.”

“Thanks.”

Biting her lip to keep from grinning like a crazy person, Nicole moved down the divided counter to wait for her drink. The whole bike ride home she couldn’t help thinking that maybe moving to this town wasn’t such a bad thing after all. The day ended up not being as horrifically hot as yesterday, and Nicole’s mood had improved significantly after a heavy dose of caffeine.

But, when she rounded the corner back onto her street, Rodrick was still outside, mowing the lawn. And lord have mercy, for such a skinny looking boy, he had some seriously toned arms. Nicole almost crashed her bike into the curb, narrowly avoiding spilling her drink all over herself. She rode past him up her own driveway without acknowledging him, even though this time he was the one who waved to her. Payback for flaunting his ridiculous arms in front of her at 10:30 in the morning.

She went inside to change into her bathing suit and the usual denim shorts she wore over them. She didn’t need to leave for work for another hour, so she plugged her electric guitar into the amp in her room and fiddled around with learning some Motley Crue riffs that she remembered from her morning bike ride. Nicole wasn’t a prodigy by any means, but she had been playing guitar for long enough that she knew the basic chord structure of most of their popular songs. 

As she stood up to slip on her black converse, she saw her phone had lit up with a text. Unknown number.

“Hey, its Caitlin :) the address is 460 Norfolk Drive. Party starts @ 10!”

Nicole did a little dance. “Cool, I’ll be there :)” she texted back, and ran down the stairs back to the garage to get her bike again. She was so excited by the idea of hanging out with people her age that she almost didn’t see Rodrick leaning against his own bike at the end of her driveway.

“Your lawn looks good,” Nicole teased as she rode by. If Rodrick had any snarky reply, she was gone before she heard it. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw him standing with his mouth agape. She laughed to herself before starting her regular route to the city pool.

Not long after she started her shift, perched in her lifeguard chair with the umbrella angled to deflect the worst of the sun, Rodrick showed up with his two friends. They seemed to be attached at the hip. One was shorter than Rodrick, with long, surfer-style blonde hair, and one was about Rodrick’s height, with short dark hair and a cool slit in his eyebrow. 

Nicole was glad her sunglasses were dark enough to not see her eyes, because she definitely would’ve been caught staring by now. Rodrick wasn’t muscular by any means, or athletic, but there was still something cute and boyish about his gangly frame, and the way his shoulder muscles flexed when he took his shirt off was… for lack of a better word, distracting.

The first couple of hours passed uneventfully, and Nicole started to doze in her chair, chin propped up on her hand. The combination of warm sun and cool breeze lull her into a half-awake state. It was adult swim, so there weren’t any kids to worry about. She could close her eyes for a few minutes and…

She heard him before she saw him. The signature sound of the diving board being bounced once, twice, and then…

Nicole was doused in freezing cold water.

The huge splash covered both sides of the pool, high enough to reach her in her life guard chair. Moaning with displeasure, Nicole wrenched her sunglasses off her face and pointed an accusing finger at the grinning boy in the water. Fucking Rodrick.

“You’re dead, you little shit.” Nicole growled, and left her sunglasses on the seat of her lifeguard chair before diving in the pool.

The cool water enfolded her, silky and calm, before she came up under Rodrick and unleashed all hell. Still under water, she grabbed his ankles to pull him down. She heard his shout of alarm before it transformed into bubbles.

Underwater, her vision was blurred, but Nicole could still see Rodrick laughing and the dark outline of his eyes. She found herself laughing too as they briefly wrestled and tried to drag the other farther underwater before they both broke the surface, gasping for air.

“Okay, okay mercy,” Rodrick gasped as Nicole wound her arms around his neck in a headlock.

“Stay off the diving board, or I’ll make you drink the kiddy pool water.”

“Oh my god, kids pee in there!”

“Exactly,” Nicole laughed before shoving him away, though it wasn’t very aggressive considering the water softened the blow. Rodrick was still laughing behind her.

“Damn, if I get that kind of a reaction every time I jump in the pool, maybe I’ll do it for a living,” he called after her.

Nicole dunked her head under water once more to adjust her hair before climbing out of the deep end on the latter, electing to ignore that last comment. Now that she was back in her life guard chair, she couldn’t believe how impulsive she had been. Some kind of instinct took over and before she knew it, she had been flying out of her chair to give Rodrick a taste of his own medicine.

And now that she was thinking about it even more, the more embarrassed she became. Oh God, had she been super obvious? And more than that, had she been unprofessional?

She looked around the pool to see if her manager was watching - luckily, no sign of him. Most of the other pool guests weren’t paying that much attention either, except Rodrick’s friends, who were still laughing hysterically as Rodrick dried himself off by shaking his hair like a wet dog.

Nicole had touched more of Rodrick than she had the other day when they accidentally touched hands. Way more of him. Not that she exactly remembered the feeling of every limb, but the contact still made her feel more than a little weak in the knees.

They didn’t even know each other that well! What was she thinking!

Nicole spent the rest of her shift biting her nails anxiously, and when her co-worker came to switch chairs she ran to hide in the employee lounge next to the girls bathrooms.

By the time five o’clock came, she had calmed down a little bit, but was still embarrassed by her frankly juvenile behavior. She helped clean up the pool area by hosing it down and picked up some left over trash before heading to her bike.

And, because Nicole had maybe the worst (or best, it was hard to say) luck in the world, Rodrick was waiting for her.

“Figured I could ride home with you, since you like being near me so much,” Rodrick called as she approached. Nicole groaned, rolling her eyes.

“I wouldn’t have to get near you if you didn’t a) act like a child, and b) violate pool rules.”

“I’m pretty sure “almost drawing a patron” counts as violating pool rules, Nikky.”

“Don’t call me that,” Nicole spat with no real heat behind it.

“If you’re gonna ride home with me, you’re gonna pay for my slushy,” Nicole called over her shoulder as she started pedaling away.

“Ooo, is this a date?” Rodrick laughed, and Nicole flipped him off without looking. “C’mon, I thought we were getting along since I fixed your tire?”

Nicole, tired of the banter and not able to think of a better response, decided to take mercy on him.

“No… no. We’re cool. I’d rather have my dumb neighbor as a friend than no one at all.”

Rodrick pulled up next to her on his bike, tongue peeking between his teeth as he tried to suppress a grin. “Yeah, you seem cool. At least, your music taste isn’t completely horrible.”

“Oh, and yours is perfect, I’m assuming?” 

“Naturally,” Rodrick said, pedaling faster to pull a wheelie in front of her, obviously trying to show off. In all honesty, it was a pretty cool trick - but Nicole would never tell him that. The evening was cooling down, but the sun was still a couple hours from setting, so everything had a deep golden glow - the trees seemed greener, and the grass softer, and random birds would occasionally chirp from deep within the woods. The world felt alive and wonderful and terribly, terribly exciting.

“So, why the hell did you move to Plainview?” Rodrick asked. 

“Wasn’t like it was my choice. My Dad got a new job, and my Mom works from home so she can take care of us - so me and my two little sisters just got the short end of the straw.”

“You have sisters?” 

“Yeah, Caroline and Georgia. Do you have siblings?”

Rodrick rolled his eyes, “Yeah, two shit head little brothers, Greg and Manny. Well, Manny isn’t really a shit head, ‘cause he’s like three, but I know he will be once he hits four.”

Nicole laughed. They were nearing the gas station she liked to get slushies from, so she suddenly started pedaling faster and yelled behind her, “First one there buys!”

She narrowly made it there before him, laughing at his red face and shaking legs as he dismounted his bike.

“No one should be that fast,” he panted, but smiled as he opened the door for her. 

The blast of air conditioning felt good on Nicole’s heated skin, and she made a B-line for the slushy machine.

“Blue raspberry is the obvious best choice,” Nicole said, filling her cup up to the brim.

“No way, cherry is the only valid flavor,” Rodrick said, already munching on a bag of sour gummy worms. She raised an eyebrow at him and he simply winked in response, causing Nicole to turn her head away when she felt the heat rise to her cheeks.

Rodrick paid for their stuff and they spent the rest of the bike ride home trying to throw gummy worms at each other and catch them in their mouths.

“So.. there's a van. Outside your house. With your band name on it,” Nicole said, pointedly looking at him. Rodrick looked straight ahead.

“Yeah.” 

“And yet, you’re out here riding your bike. With me.”

“Yeah.”

“So what's the hold up? You don’t have your license yet or something?”

“I can drive!” Rodrick said indignantly, his voice cracking slightly, causing you to throw your head back in laughter.

“I’m saving up money to get it fixed,” he grumbled, pulling another wheelie.

“Doing tricks won’t distract me from this, Rodrick.

“Fine. Once its fixed, I’ll take you for a ride, deal?”

“Deal,” Nicole said primly, taking a sip of her slushy. 

Sooner than she thought, they ended up in front of their respective homes. The time had flown by - she hadn’t even noticed they were close.

She was about to wave goodbye and turn to go up her driveway when Rodrick cleared his throat.

“Hey, um… my band and I - we’re having practice tonight. Again. We have a gig later this week so we wanna practice as much as possible. Uhm. Would you wanna stop by? You can bring your guitar or whatever,” he said, looking down at his shoes that he was currently scuffing against the sidewalk.

“How do you know I play guitar?”

Somehow, Rodrick looked even more sheepish. “Uh, you left your window open, earlier. When you were practicing.”

This time, Nicole was the one to blush. Fuck. She hadn’t even thought about any one being able to hear her. And after Rodrick told her Loded Diper was originally a Motley Crue cover band.... Oh, he definitely knew she was whipped. Fuck!

“Haha, oh, yeah… uh, sure. I can come over.”

Rodrick grinned - a genuinely excited smile, not his usual impish smirk. It made Nicole’s heart stutter in her chest.

“Come over in an hour - I’ll get snacks.”

Nicole turned away without another word, deciding they would have plenty more to say to each other very soon. But fucking hell, what was she going to wear?

[mk-tozier]

Eddies mom

Richie Tozier x reader.  based off of the song stacys mom, I have no idea when this song came out so too ducking bad 

Why’d I do this? I have no idea- I was listening to this song and my head went “Richie. Richie tozier” so uhm enjoy?

Warnings: maybe a couple of curse words, crackhead energy, a lil heated by the end, repetitive 

I sat in the hammock, giggling as I watched Richie dancing chaotically, Stan rolling his eyes and Eddie watching as he sat complaining About How Richie Might get hurt. Richie stuck his tongue out at Eddie. The song ‘Stacy’s mom’ flickered on from the radio. His eyes lit up. “Stacy's mom has got it goin' on” Richie danced while singing, before he smirked, this kid is up to no good. “Eddie’s mom has got it goin' on!” He yelled. “Oh god” i laughed loudly, Richie grinned at my reaction, the hammock swung and I started dying of laughter. Stanley stared at Richie with a blank face. “RICHIEEE!” Eddie yelled.  “Eddie’s mom has got it goin' on” He looked at Eddie grinning continuing to dance. “Eddie’s mom has got it goin' on!” I joined in, singing with Richie giggling, he smirked. “Eddie can I come over, after school?” He started jumping up and down “We can hang around by the pool” “hang by the pool” I sung “Did your mom get back from her business trip?” He dramatically looked towards Eddie  “Business trip” I giggled, the words barely making it out of my mouth.  “Is she there, or is she trying to give me the slip?” Richie wiggled his eyebrows. “(Give me the slip” “You know, I'm not the little boy that I used to be” Richie did a twirl. “yes you are” I yelled. Richie turned towards me, sticking his tongue out at me.  “I'm all grown up now” He continued rolling his eyes, grinning goofily “Baby, can't you see?” Richie winked at me. “Eddie’s mom has got it goin' on” “She's all I want” He stared at me as he sung the lyrics.”And I've waited for so long” His horrible singing only got worse as the song progressed, laughing every now and then. “Y/n, can't you see? You're just not the girl for me!” Richie joked, as I was the only girl there at the moment, that was the only reason he said that right? Yeaaaa. “i was never the girl for you.” I joked, he put his hand on his chest, pretending like he got shot in the heart, but not breaking song. “ I know it might be wrong but, I'm in love with Eddie’s mom” Richie pointed his little stick he had been pretending was a microphone and pointed it at me. “Eddie’s mom has got it goin' on” I sung horribly “Eddie’s mom has got it goin' on” we sang together, Eddie looking more annoyed than ever, Stan holding his head in his hand.  “Eddie, do you remember when I mowed your lawn?” “Mowed your lawn” I sung dramatically.  “Your mom came out with just a towel on” Richie wiggled his eyebrows again. “TOWEL ON!” I yelled “I could tell she liked me from the way she stared” “The way she stared” “And the way she said "You missed a spot over there"” He jumped up and down spinning.  “A spot over there”I added quickly “And I know that you think it's just a fantasy But since your dad walked out, Your mom could use a guy like me” Richie pointed to himself. “Eddie’s mom has got it goin' on, She's all I want, And I've waited for so long!”  “Y/n, can't you see? You're just not the girl for me, I know it might be wrong but...” “I'm in love with Eddie’s mom” “Eddie’s mom has got it goin' on “ “got it going on” I sung  “She's all I want and I've waited for so long” Richie looked at me, almost as if the lyrics were directed towards me, no he’s just my best friend, stop letting your imagination get to you. “waited and waited” I got up from the hammock, singing, starting to dance with him “Y/n, can't you see? You're just not the girl for me” Richie grins, his smile is adorable, it makes my heart melt. “I know it might be wrong, I'm in love with Eddie’s mom, oh, oh” I join him in singing at the end “I'm in love with” “Eddie’s mom, oh, oh” I started clapping to his singing, following the beat. “Wait a minute” I sung dramatically, leaning on Richie. “lovebirds” Stanley mumbles. “Aye! The only girl I love is Eddies mom!” He jokes, not gonna lie, that kinda hurt. “Y/n, can't you see? You're just not the girl for me, I know it might be wrong but” Richie paused his singing “I'm in love with Eddie’s mom” We sung together, bursting out into laughter falling back into the hammock together. “that was ridiculous” Eddie whines.

Eddie looks at his watch, sighing. “gotta be home in a few minutes so I gotta go” He says. “Tell your mom about my performance” Richie winks, making me giggle. “fuck off tozier” Eddie groans, climbing up the ladder to the clubhouse. “No offense but I’m not gonna be stuck here alone with you two. See ya later lovebirds” Stan swings his bad over his shoulder and goes up the ladder, closing the door behind him. “You wanna go to the arcade?” Richie asks. “sure.” I smile. “I can’t believe I got rejected through a song about Eddie’s mom.” I sit up, laughing. Richie puts his hand on my chin, making me look up at him. “nobody said anything about rejection, Doll” his thumb traces my lip, my heart beating quickly. “After all, can’t reject someone who’s never admitted anything.” “Is that so Tozier?” I say. “mhm” I pull Richie down so his face is close to mine. “i guess that means I haven’t been rejected” I smirk before placing my lips on his. Richie’s eyes widen with shock but he quickly relaxes, I stand up so he doesn’t have to lean down, not breaking the kiss. Rich puts his hand on my waist, spinning me around and pushing me against the wall. A whine leaves my mouth. “fuck” he mumbles against my lips. Richie licks my bottom lip, asking for entrance, i part my mouth slowly. Richie’s tongue explores my mouth, our tongues fighting for dominance, desperate for eachother. He pulls away, panting. “Eddies mom can’t you see? You’re just not the right girl for me, it might be wrong but I’m in love with my best friend” Richie sings off note. I burst into laughter at his singing, this boys an idiot, but I love him, he’s my idiot. 

“So uh, are we gonna make anything out of that kiss or-” “oh my god Richie you’re such a charmer, you really have a way with your words” I say sarcastically. Richie rolls his eye smiling. “Yes rich, I’ll be your girlfriend.” I say, planting my lips against his. He smirks against my lips, I pull him closer to me, our bodies against eachother. His hard-on pokes me and i smirk. “we’re taking care of that later” i say as I pull away. Richie lets out a groan that sends tingles straight to my womanhood. 

Taglist: @kindofokayimagines send a ask Or dm me if you wanna be added to my Taglist!

[gayenerd]

Interview with Billie for the Kerrang Yearbook. Sounds like this took place around 2000-2001?

Hello Billie Joe. A bit pissed at the Kerrang Awards weren't you? "I was drinking with Papa Roach the night before. Everybody went to see The Cult in Brixton. All the American bands like Papa Roach and Queens Of The Stone Age were there. I felt terrible when I got out of bed to go to the Kerrang Awards." Who ended up worse off - you or Coby Dick? "Sometimes Coby can't even hold it together when he's sober! He's super-hyper all the time. You have to say, 'Coby, turn it off for 2 minutes - I'm in my bunk!' Then he'll turn it off and you can get into a decent conversation." You experienced some difficulty in getting off the stage after accepting your Kerrang Award. "Award's shows freak me out - I'm so scared shitless of those things so I end up doing stupid things. I never theought I'd ever win an award for playing music. Watching all our videos being shown up on the screen, I just looked at Mike and Tre and said. 'Does this mean we're old now?' I can be such a self-conscious freak. I just don't know how to be cool." What's the healthiest thing you've done this year? "I like to keep myself fit. I run, I skateboard, and i'll hit the weights every other day. You reach a certain age when you've gotta start looking out for yourself. I'm staring down the barrel of 30, you know? My dad really let himself fall to @#%$ and I don't want to end up like that. Theres a preconcieved idea about musicians and punk musicians in particular that we have to self-destruct, and I can't buy into that. I like to breathe. Like like it when my heart beats - Its a really cool thing." Have you cut down on your drinking recently? "When i'm on tour I drink all day long with the guys. There's nothing else to do. But i've been at homea while. There are many, many moods to Billie Joe. There's drunk me and theres not-drunk me." What have you learned about being a father during the past year? "You learn new things every day as your kids' characters and personalities are building. Joey is 6 now, he's not a baby at all, he's a little boy. And Jacob, who's 3, is a maniac. The one rule I have is that I never expose them to television." What have you learned about Tre and Mike this past year? "Wow (long pause). I learned that Mike is a Bob Dylan fan, which was kind of suprising. I'm not the biggest fan but I definately appreciate Bob Dylan. And Tre is becoming really fluent in Spanish. His wife is Nicaraguan." What color has your hair been this year? "I shaved my head when I got off the road. Its been black. I haven't really been changing it. When the boy groups started dyeing their hair, I had to stop." Any fashion tips you'd care to pass on to Kerrang readers? "I've been wearing the same pants since High School! Never been into the Versace thing." Best punk rock song you've heard this year? "Last Nite by The Strokes. They're not really a punk band, but those guys have a really cool outlook and a good sensibility about how they present themselves. All the rap rock metal bands have lost that rock'n'roll element, and i'm just a sucker for good rock'n'roll music." What song has been stuck in your head this year, even though you hate it? "Smooth Criminal by Alien Ant Farm. It was bad when Michael Jackson sang it, but it's even worse second time around! Y'know, I think Michael Jackson should join Slipknot. His face looks so bizarre now, its like he's wearing a mask." Are Slipknot still the scariest dudes in rock? "In about a year from now, if they're still as popular as they are now, they'll be as American as apple pie. That's sort of what happened to Marilyn Manson. When he came out he was really scary looking, like 'Jesus Christ! This guy is a maniac!' But now its, 'Oh, theres Marilyn, mowing the lawn, no big deal.' I like Manson, but it's funny how the most normal people end up being the most threatening, and the people who are scariest at first end up kinda normal. That's the dissapointing thing about shock value. Neil Young is more threatening than Slipknot just because he's smarter and has more of an opinion." How much fun did you have on tour in 2001? "It's really exciting at first because you're in different places every day, but after a while i'd rather be home. I get into really long conversations with my wife, I talk to my kids a lot, I'll write little notes and draw pictures for them and fax them to the house. Our sets are getting longer, sometimes we'll play up to three hours, and its because there is no rock'n'roll lifestyle for me other than that. I'm a devoted husband and a devoted father, and so all that decadent bullshit is not my thing. You start to wonder, 'Is this the life for me?' But then I get home and I dont know what the @#%$ to do with myself because i'm not playing music. People have looked at us and gone, 'Obviously these guys have no place to go after the gig because they're still on stage!'" Where were you on September 11? "I was on West Coast time, so it was really early in the morning for me. I saw the towers fall, and it felt like the world was gonna end. What amazes me is that Tony Blair is almost heading the coalition by himself! Does he realise what he's getting his country into? This is @#%$ serious! There's been a lot of shocking words used: the 'crusade against terrorism'. The las thing you say to someone from the Middle East is the word 'crusade'." After September 11, do you share America's renewed sense of patriotism? "No way. I can't really see myself as a patriot. I don't see what happened in New York as an act of war, it's an act of terrorism. Every country has had to deal with terrorism in some form, and this is the first time America has ever seen it and they dont know what to do, so everyone is clinging to these war slogans. All the flags is people's cars and homes - it just seems kind of gross to me." Has American learnt from the tragedy? "I hope some good stuff comes out of this. People have become so self-absorbed and dedicated to their careers. I'm not a person to wave a flag for family values or anything like that, but there comes a time when your relationships and your family is the most important thing, not whether you're making $100,000 every year. Thats what I hope comes out of it - that people realise the important things in life." Six Of The Best Best Friend: " Valium. Lots of plane flights, man. Valium only lasts four hours, so if you're on an 11 hour flight take two and a half." Best advice: "Put your head between your knees if you think you are gonna pass out." Best Ass: "Tre Cool. Not only because he has one, but because he is one." Personal Best: The pinnacle moment for me this year, musically, was playing Reading. It was a great show. There's so many bands nowadays who can't play live, but to actually do it and have people singing along and getting something sentimental out of it at the same time, thats rare, and we achieved that at Reading." Best Night Out: "The furst night I went out after september 11. I really went for it. American has these feelings of its days being numbered. It's like a country that has just got cancer, but the cancer's in remission. A lot of people are doing all the things they've always talked about doing. I hadn't partied really hard in a while, so that's what I did. I went to a couple of bars with Mike and Tre and our producer. We got loud and had a good time." Best Buy: " My cellphone. The ring tone is just a goofy tune. And it vibrates well in my pocket."

[postmodernmulticoloredcloak]

I would love for you to talk more indepth about the montage. To me it feels so off and weird. Almost like a parody? So many scenes in it are "funny" moments that just don't make sense in the context of an emotional overview of the road so far... (Like all the scenes where Dean is eating, Donna with donut dust on her face, Sam getting hit during the game show.) I don't know. Isn't the montage supposed to make me nostalgic, teary-eyed? This one definitely doesn't do it for me!

Here I am! Yes, I absolutely agree. The montage is Weird(TM). It’s kind of a tone rollercoaster. It’s very full of funny/silly moments, with some serious moments smacked in. And it definitely looks like... there’s something about it.

For an easier consultation I will reference the gifs I have made of the montage sequence here.

[Gif 1] It starts pretty much like I’d expect a Supernatural goodbye montage to start. The two brothers meeting for the first time in the pilot, a reminder of their childhood with John, their banter still from the pilot, a couple moments of them driving in the car in the first seasons, Dean saving Lucas in 1x03 which is the first Dean-heavy episode and also an extremely symbolic moment for Dean’s entire journey - just think at how Lucas as a mirror was still relevent during the “drowning” Michael possession arc. Everything feels normal so far. We’re starting from the beginning! Now--

[Gif 2] Interesting and weird choices start here. Them pretending to be high school teachers from After School Special 4x13 - actually a very iconic moment for the fandom, remember that post of Dean in shorts from that episode that you had to reblog when it came on your dash? (Actually I’m not sure if I ever reblogged it lol.) Dean celebrating getting young again from The Curious Case of Dean Winchester 5x07 (and Jensen showing off his agility). The two of them showing their FBI badges to Jesse Turner’s biological mother in 5x06. Dean mowing the lawn of Mary’s house in the Djinn dream and immediately after Jess and Sam kissing also in the Djinn dream, from What Is And What Should Never Be 2x20. Then Dean after killing the witch when he was under the memory loss spell, in Regarding Dean 12x11. Sam happy when they celebrate Christmas in A Very Supernatural Christmas 3x08. Them being “lucky” under the effect of the rabbit’s foot in Bad Day At Black Rock 3x03. Sam also happy in Baby 11x04.

Again the present, then the montage starts again with the water-related ghost from Red Sky At Morning 3x06, a Bela episode, and then Bela herself from her first episode, 3x03 again.

What do these moments have in common? Not all of them, but for many of them I’d say reality being manipulated. The Djinn dream, the rabbit foot, Dean’s aging, the Antichrist... and it’s not over yet. Also, them pretending to be teachers, agents etc - not “real”.

[Gif 3] The tone suddenly gets more serious and relevant to current events: Chuck in The Monster at the End of This Book 4x18 (eh). Death in Two Minutes to Midnight 5x21 (the first appearance of Death, while now we’ve had Billie’s last and a very short-lived new one), and then two major moments from Lazarus Rising - Dean emerging from the grave and finding the handprint on his shoulder. Crowley’s first episode, Abandon All Hope 5x10. Zachariah’s death in Point Of No Return 5x18. Anna from The Song Remains The Same 5x13, where she is the antagonist having been brainwashed successfully by heaven. Michael burning and Sam jumping in the cage with Michael in 5x22, then another moment from 4x01 (the brothers hugging after reuniting). A moment from The French Mistake 6x15 (reality fuckery again!). Sam in Frontierland 6x18.

[Gif 4] Reality fuckery continues with Becky marrying Sam in 7x08. Funnily enough, this is the peak of Becky’s obsessive behavior which she went to therapy for and grew away of - it definitely emphasizes how far Becky has come. Donna’s first appeance in 9x13. That iconic shot of Dean in Bloodlust 2x03 because he’s pretty. Charlie’s first appearance in 7x20 while she dances to Walking On Sunshine (relevant?), Kevin’s first appearance in 7x21 when he becomes a prophet (lots of firsts). Abaddon’s first appearance in As Time Goes By 8x12. Then there’s the first appearance of the bunker, in the next episode, a couple shots in fact. Then more 4x01, Ruby pretending to mistake Dean for the pizza man (eh). Then more present...

This section seems to be mostly “first appearances” - including Ruby’s s4 meatsuit, i.e. Genevieve’s first appearance.

[Gif 5] We suddenly jump to more recent events with Kelly and Jack in heaven in Byzanthium 4x08. Jack’s iconic hello from 4x16 Don’t Go In The Woods. Dean teaching Jack how to drive in 14x07 Unhuman Nature. But then we suddenly go from Jack things to something completely different on the surface: two consecutive moments from Changing Channels 5x08, including the iconic Nutcracker scene, and Sully from Just My Imagination. We are actually back to the previous theme: reality fuckery. Gabriel’s episode was about placing them in “television shows”, Sully, while real, is literally a child’s “imaginary friend”. And then... a moment from the cartoon part of Scoobynatural! It doesn’t get more reality fuckery than that. Oh, wait! Charlie and Dorothy going to Oz in 9x04. That’s a pretty strong contender. Dean being hit in the face by a fairy in 6x09 - also about a realm Dean briefly went to. And, in case we felt like we hadn’t gotten enough 4x01 yet, Pamela’s first appearance (her last, albeit a hallucination, was about the whole “How come you only want what you can't have?” thing).

[Gif 6] We continue again with a mixture of firsts and weird things. Ellen’s first appearance in 2x02, Dean and Cas in 4x18 (we saw Chuck from that episode earlier), Jody’s first appearance in 5x15 Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid. Rufus in 6x04 Weekend At Bobby’s (not his first but a good episode...), Garth in 9x12 Sharp Teeth (not his first but the first in which he is a werewolf and is married... relevant to recent lamp events??), Missouri in 1x09 (her first appearance).

Then Gabriel from 13x21 Beat The Devil (an episode where he plays a trick on Lucifer) and Rowena from the same scene (in fact a scene where they’re flirting).  Then Eileen coming back to life in 15x06 and smiling at Sam. Jo flirting with Dean in 2x02 - her first appearance, again. Funnily enough, she had been introduced as a love interest, but ended up being repurposed as a sisterly figure. Tempted to say it’s relevant in an ironic way. Mary in 14x11 Damaged Goods, when Dean has a goodbye mother-son moment with her. Amara in 11x09 Oh Brother Where Art Thou when she was looking for her brother. Then Lucifer in two different vessels (12x07 Rock Never Dies and 12x21, when Lucifer regains control over the vessel).

Then Metatron doing the find a wife make babies speech to Cas in 8x23! Relevant??? Dun dun dun. Then Ketch for some reason (the first episode where we see his face, 12x08 LOTUS).

[Gif 7] Then Jo/Anael in 13x13, another first appearance. (I cropped these horribly I should have cut them when the present happens lol.)

Sandwiched between two shots from the present, Dean Sam Mary and John having dinner together in 14x13 Lebanon.

Then we start again with Dean riding Larry in 12x11, Dean and Cas dressed as cowboys in 13x06 (mini pattern here...), Asmodeus with the archangel blade in 13x13 (insert meta about Asmodeus in Christian lore here), and the really intriguing “Intermission” shot from the play in 10x05.

[Gif 8] To continue a certain pattern we might be tempted to see, Dean eating piecake from 14x06 Optimism (an episode about a distorted version of romantic love), then Dean eating noodles from 10x13 Halt & Catch Fire (the ghost is a husband that passes on thanks to his wife). Dean after his dentistry session with Garth in 15x10. Meg from 6x10 Caged Heat (the episode with the pizza man porn). Dean and Sam investigating in 4x12 Criss Angel Is a Douchebag (an episode about growing old poorly). Crowley in 10x16 Paint It Black (that episode). Dean playing that game in 14x17 Game Night (the episode Cas calls for God, and when Mary dies - the one playing the game was God...). Sam and Dean getting out of the car in 13x05 when they visit the traumatized kid (peak mourning Dean episode...). Then we go into reality fuckery territory again with 14x15 Peace of Mind, Sam under the psychic’s control and Cas disgruntled about it.

[Gif 9] Mick Davies from 12x16 Ladies Drink Free, when he learnt a lesson about monsters. Dean geeking out about the Hatchet Man - so heavy with mirror significances - in 14x04 Mint Condition. Belphegor - Jack’s dark mirror - in 15x03 The Rupture, the break-up episode. Donna’s first episode again, this time Dean and she eating donuts. Dean, Sam and Mary hugging in 12x22 after the confrontation in Mary’s head. Kaia in 13x09 The Bad Place, when Jack uses her to find the way to where Mary is (Mary pattern?). Claire&co rescuing Jody and Donna in 13x10 Wayward Sisters. Dean in 1944 dresses as a sailor in 11x14 The Vessel. Baby nyooming in 15x11 The Gamblers...

Aaand more Changing Channels, the genital herpes ad. It’s almost like reality fuckery is a theme. Followed by Sam drinking the anti-cold concoction at Garth’s in 15x10 and the two of them outside the monster fighting pit in the same episode. Then Cas, Dean, Sam and Jack on a video call with Ketch in 14x09 The Spear when they talk about the egg to trap Michael.

[Gif 10] We stay in the same episode with the four of them heading to Michael. Then the four of them celebrating Jack’s return to life (after Cas’ deal with the Empty). More present, and then the iconic “we’ve got work to do” [trunk closes] moment from the pilot.

So: some of these moments seem like genuine moments you’ll want to put in a montage, but there’s a weird predominance of characters smiling and looking happy or goofy. It’s kind of... not exactly representative of the show as a whole, you know? There are moments that fit as, you know, iconic steps in the story, but surprisingly few, and many moments you’d expect to be in a “final” montage are blatantly not there. Several moments with, let’s put it like this, suspicious meta connotations. Moments that, well, we don’t know what happens in the finale yet, but smell like they might be relevant to future developments. (Metatron’s speech to newly human Cas anyone?)

What really strikes me is the amount of moments connected to reality being manipulated or distorted in some way. Lots of Changing Channels, fantasy elements of various kinds (the Djinn dream, Scoobynatural, Oz, the imaginary friend Becky’s wedding to Sam, the fairy, ...), them acquiring luck (s3) or losing it (s15), and so on. It’s almost like the sequence is telling us something...

Thoughts?

[lennydaisy]

SWAN SONG || The Walking Dead || CHAPTER TWO.

‘You have to trust that every friendship has no end, that a communion of saints exists among all those, living and dead, who have truly loved God and one another.

You know from experience how real this is.  Those you have loved deeply and who have died live on in you,  not just as memories but as real presences.’

HENRI NOUWEN

                       The Walking Dead.

      Season 1-?

                                       FEM OC! and ?

Hope you like it :)) and here is the link to CHAPTER ONE!

My home is nothing but radiant. It's a place that is constantly filled with smiles and laughter and sometimes the occasional tear, but no matter what we get through it because we are a family. It's filled with so many memories; like when Corey and I tried to make mom a cake for her birthday and ended up spending her birthday at the hospital because Corey somehow got a teaspoon stuck up her left nostril, or when I came home from school claiming to have a new pet. My mom thought it would have been a snail or a worm, like something normal, but no I was a bit of a weird kid and brought home a skunk. I don't know how I found it or how I managed to get it to rest peacefully in my school backpack all day, but what I do know is that we all had to spend a week at a motel whitest our house got deep cleaned.

I had my first heartbreak in this house, my room filling up with tears like that one scene from Alice in Wonderland, only difference was I was 6 years old and claimed I had already met the love of my life.

This house has blessed me with so many things. One of those things being a chance. A chance at a normal upbringing in a comfortable home. It also blessed me with 2 sisters at the age of 4 and the most amazing mother I could have ever asked for. At the end of the day, my home, 76 Baden Way, Mormont, is the one consistent happiness in my life.

That's why I'm confused.

The drive up the all too familiar street was oddly unsettling. It didn't feel right. To be fair I didn't grow up in a white picket community with neighbours that give you cookies every fortnight or invite you to their weekly barbecues in their freshly mowed lawns, but it wasn't a bad place. 

Was I gone for too long, it's only been a couple of days.

The houses that once stood tall, the house that once signified homeliness, now appear to be on there last leg. The once standing, chipped fences are now nonexistent, flattened into the ground. The once curtained windows, with the occasional flower pot on the window sill, are now completely bored up, no light being shown into the what I assume darkened houses.

Normally finding parking in my street is a nightmare, it's always something for somebody. Whether it be a birthday or a family get together, there is never any space for me to park my car relatively close to my own house. Of course, I complain, it's annoying, but for some reason being able to just drive straight into my own driveway is sickening to me. Where's mom's car?

My car whistles to a stop as I cut the engine. Neither I or Cora dare to move as we look upon what we once called home. The once fully in season apple tree is now snapped basically in half, rotten apples scattered around the dying grass. As for the house itself, it's not doing so hot either, the garage door is now covered with large indents in the shapes of fists, the odd splatter of blood causing bile to gather in my mouth. The usually crystal clear windows are now dust-ridden and black with ash, unable to see what's within the once homely home.

"What it like this when you left for school this morning?" I question Cora, the unsettling feeling that our home is giving me makes my voice lose all strength. 

Shaking her head timidly, "No," she replies, "Everything was normal."

'Now is as good a time as any', I thought as I reach over into the passages seat pocket, grabbing my Cloy Python. Looking my scared sister in the eye I said, "You can stay in the car if you want. I'll scoop the place out, make sure it's safe."

Shaking her head vigorously at my suggesting, gripping onto my arm, prohibiting me from leaving the car alone, "I'd feel a lot safer with you." If it wasn't for the situation I would have poked fun at her for needing her big sister but honestly, I'd feel safer with her too.

Nodding my head, I exit the car and make my way around the front of our house. With shaky legs, Cora stands as tall as she could beside me. Not knowing what we're about to walk into, I detach my baton from my belt and hand it to my timid sister. With trembling but understanding hands she clutched it tightly, white-knuckled.

Mom normal locks the door, no matter what, it's always locked. That's the first sign that somethings wrong. The front down just swung open. I keep my gun raised as I slowly step into my house, the sound of glass crunching under my combat boots, the side window had been smashed. Would explain why the doors unlocked.

"Someone else could be here, be careful, stay alert," I whisper to my sister how had barely moved an inch into our house, my baton still stuck to her right hand.

The dark wood cabinet, where all our favourite captured memories were framed, is now broken, laying on its fronts, surrounded by glass and water from the Fine China flower vase. 

Bending down to flip over one of the pictures scattered on the floor, only to be met with the smiling faces of my family. We went to the Grand Canyon a few years ago, we were all so excited but we didn't check the weather. Who knew the Grand Canyon, y'know that big dry place, had flash floods, beats me, but that didn't stop out Mom from forcing us to still have a picnic on the waterlogged grass. 'It's all part of the experience' she said. If the experience was having a cold for weeks after the trip then we nailed it. I couldn't help but smile it the silly but fond memory, but I guess with the way the world is headed moments of endearment and reminiscing don't last very long.

A subtly whistle from my sister causes me to raise to my feet slowly, turning to see her pointing quietly into the family room. Standing still for a minute or so, the loud silence is broken by the soft sound of pattering feet. Signalling for my sister to stay behind me, I stalk my way into the room. Expecting to see one of those things in our living room, I flip the safety of my revolver, taking aim. As though glued to the spot, my legs for some reason forgetting how to work as my eyes settle on a figure standing, back towards us, facing the bookshelf. Not moving like any of those things from before, or making any similar noises, I come to the conclusion that's there is a person in our house. A person I don't know.

"Stay where you are and don't move," my once shaky voice now filled nothing but authority as I order the person before us to halt. Getting the picture, the person raised their hands slowly not daring to move another inch, "Who are you and why are you in my house?" I question, my aim on the back of their head never flatters.

"Ain't no need for that now little missy" their thick Geogiran accent breaking through the tense air in the room, "what happened to a little common southern hospitality?" He asks laughing clearly not taking any of this seriously.

"You broke into my house and you expect what, a welcome party. Oh wait and I'll fetch the balloons," the sarcasm rolls of my tongue like venom. The nerve of this guy.

"Correction I didn't break-in, I was pleasantly granted access," he corrects cocking his head to the side. Even though I can't see his face I already know that's there's a shit-eating grin.

"Granted access by who?" Perks up Cora, her voice not as protruding towards the figure but her point still stands.

Seeing the man nodding his head in acknowledgement, clicking his tongue in the roof of his mouth, "ah you're the sisters. The cop and the college chick," he laughed, his hands no longer held up but instead on his knees as he leans over slightly in laughter. Not understanding what's so funny, I cock my gun causing him to shot back up to attention, any signs of joking no completely evaporated into thin air.

Turning his head slightly despite my order to not move, his stubbly side profile coming into view, half a smirk lazily dancing along his face, "I take it you're the bad cop," he attempts to joke again, but it falls short, in a situation like this, one that has my moms safety on the line, is not the time to be Mr Comedian.

"Where's my mom" I rolled my eyes at the man, asking the serious question at hand. If he as much laid a single finger on her, I swear, if he thinks I'm the bad cop now, he's got another thing coming.

"Well if that's what you wanted this whole time you should have just asked little missy," he exclaims turning round to fully face us. He's a shaggy looking man, looking to be in his early 40s. His short blond hair sitting a mess on the top of his head. He has a few scars here and there and eyes that sent an uneasy shiver down my spine. His attire, clad in an old button-down shirt and a dirty wife-beater that looks to be stained with sweat from the Atlanta heat.

I already knew he was armed, spotting the gun that was tucked tightly into the back pocket of his cargo pants. Based on looks alone I already know what type of man I'm dealing with here. A stereotypical, boorish, southern redneck. Most of these men are ticking time bombs and the fact that one has found there way into my home, the place where my mother is, doesn't sit right with me.

"Come on out now Charlotte," He called out of the broken-down door, leading to the stairs, "I think it was a bird," he mutters, kicking this right leg quickly. Looking down at the ground, aside from the broken glass and wood chips, there are also feathers. Must have been the bird he was talking about.

The sound of light feet pattering down the stairs causes my ear to twitch, almost cat-like, but I don't flatter my aim on the man, "are you sure, I thought I heard-" the voice of my mother echos through the room from behind me. Mom. As subtly as possible I attempted to flip the safety back on my gun, not want to catch the attention of the man before me, but the silence fails me yet again, the soft clicking of my gun makes the man look at me, a knowing grin on his face. Cocky bastard.

"Cora, Macy," relieves mom, as she rushes over the glittering glass, skidding with friction, pulling both of us into a bone-crushing hug, "you're okay?" She asks as she separated from us, holding us at an arms distance, looking us over for signs of injury.

"Mom, Mom! We're fine," Cora reassures our panicking mother, holding her ageing face between her hands, looking her seriously in the eye, "we're okay." 

Yeah, we might be but what about her.

My mom is a colourful woman. She always said 'the world is simply in black and white, but that doesn't mean we can't add our own colours'. Whether it is a bold pair of earrings or an eyesore of a scarf, she is always surrounded by colour, but not today. She clad in a shirt that appears to big for her petite frame, baggy jeans and hiking boots. No colour, just black and white, not like our mother at all. Her hair resembling that of a birds nest and her glasses sitting at a slant. She doesn't look put together.

"This is Merle," my mom waves her hand in the direction of the man whose eyes have not left mine, not so subtly looking me up and down with a look that makes me feel sick to my stomach, "He and his brother saved me from those people, brought me back here safely."

"That we did Charlotte," this Merle character near enough shouts in reply. 'What is this man so damn loud for?', "Just a bit of Southern hospitality. Something your daughter here could learn about," he says clearly not liking the fact that I still have my gun pointed in his direction.

"Macy put the gun down," the stern voice of my mother caused me to holster my gun against my thigh, but I refuse to let my guard down. I don't trust this Merle, whether he saved my mom or not, something just doesn't sit right with me.

"That's more like it girly," he says sounding assertive as if he has just won. It pretty clear that the man has some military experience. I can feel it in the air. The way he thinks he can control the room and the people in it, "My baby brother should be back soon, but I say we meet him halfway."

Is this some kind of joke?

"Look thanks for help our mom," I eventually cave into thanking the man, "But no way in hell are we going anywhere with you."

"Now I think your mommy over there would disagree with that?"

I turn to look at my mother who has a reluctant look in her eye, but not at the sketchy man in our living room, but at me. Is she really thinking about leaving with this man? Everything about him screams red flags and that's not just because I'm a cop but from just general observation. This is the type of man you would not want to meet alone at night.

"He and his brother have plans to head for Fort Benning," My mom starts slowly, clearly trying to find the right words, "I thought we could go with them."

I'm already shaking my head as my mom is speaking and I can hear her breath getting quicker and quicker, panicking, "Please," she begs, her voice cracking as I notice the tears building up in her eyes, "Please Macy, I want us to be safe."

Safe.

With the way things are going, I don't know how much longer we can be safe. I’ve always seen my home as the safest place on earth. It's where I live. It's where I grew up. My whole life started here in this very house, surrounded by people that I love. I always swore to protect my family. I didn't know what I would have to protect them from but seems as though the time has come to prove this more than ever.

"Ah, now Macy, baby," Merle begins to taunt, starting to walk closer but stops when he sees my hand rest on my gun again, "What kind of daughter would you be to deny your mom of safety."

"Why don't you just stay the fuck out of this?" I snapped at the man how held his hands up in defence and walked over to our couch bending down to pick up the rifle that I failed to notice resting on the table.

"Macy," I hear Cora whisper from behind me and when I turn to look at her the look in her eye tells it all. She's scared.

She's scared.

Mom's scared.

I'm scared.

"Where's this brother of yours?" I sigh turning to face Merle who is looking out of the window, his eyes darting from left to right.

"Away hunting," he shrugs, "should be back in an hour or two, but we're losing light. I say we meet him halfway."

For some reason, my mom just agrees with this and turns to Cora, telling her to pack a bag for her and me. My mom wonders off to wait outside, but I stay put. I don't trust this man, and I sure as hell don't trust him wandering around my house where both my mom and sister are. I stand my ground and clear my throat causing merle to turn in my direction, "Try anything, and I won't hesitate to put one between your eyes."

"I'd like to see you try," he lets out a burly laugh before pushing his way past me and out of the front door.

'What have I gotten myself into?' I thought as the sound of a car door slamming shut snaps me from my own world.

Call it wishful thinking, I already knew the answers to the question that was spinning around in my head. She wasn't back, and she was never going to come back. But there was no harm in checking. Right?

Bare. Empty. Any trance of anybody living in this room had been completely erased. It's hard to believe two people I held so dearly to my heart lived here. The once painted black walls which were covered with the typical posters of any rebellious teenager are now newly painted white, hiding all the scratches or chips that were previously there. I kind of glad about the change of walls, in my opinion, once you reach the age of 30 it's maybe time to let go of your rebellion.

All that is left is a set of drawers, a double mattress on the floor with no covers and a small single mattress on the other side of the room. Moving over to the dust-ridden drawers, I pulled open the first one and to no avail, it's completely empty. What was I expecting? She's been gone for years and she was never coming back. Especially not now.

It might sound dumb but every night after she left, I would leave her bedroom light on hoping that it would encourage her to come back home. But she never did. Mom eventually got annoyed about finding me asleep outside of Ally's bedroom door every night and had to have a word with me. Sure I stopped leaving a light on for her, but that didn't mean that I missed her any less.

Without Ally being around I had to step up and fill in the gap that she had left in our family. Ally was always the hardass. The tough one. If you were in a fight you'd want Ally in your corner. Despite anything that she says, she did love her family at one point. She was always on our side. In our corner.

Then one moment that all changed. We had a new addition to the family.

Little DeeDee.

DeeDee, my sweet little niece. Such a sweet kid, not a bad bone in her body. It's almost hard to believe that she's my sister's daughter. What they lacked in a shared personality they make up for in identical looks, they look the spits of each other, a true carbon copy.

When my sister found out she was pregnant she ran away. Telling not a soul why. Except for me.

I found out on my own, we have always told her to clean up after her self or something might happen. Well hi, I'm that something. She never kept me updated through the duration of her pregnancy, not like I expected her too, she just up and left. Until DeeDee turned 3. It's only been a year since she came home and she's was more disconnected than ever, especially with mom.

The rattle of an all too familiar engine interrupts my conversation with mom. Giving each other a knowing look with flickers of uncertainty as though maybe we heard wrong.

We didn't hear wrong.

The pounding of her heavy-duty boots slapping against the hardwood floor, echoing through the entire house. The house was so silent you could probably hear a pin drop.

Mom went to 'greet' her first, myself in tail, just in case this all goes south which it most likely will. We haven't seen or even heard from her for well over 3 years now, it got to the point where we all just assumed that she was never coming back. It explains the shock towards her arrival. Well, half of her arrival.

"Ally... your home," mom squeaks out unable to hide the overwhelming shock in her voice. It's awkward, so awkward that it makes me want to itch. The passing eye contact between one another speaks more than their unspoken words. 

The reunion of a mother and her absent daughter.

The shock must have gotten to mom's head because she failed to notice the new soul in the room with us. A person we have never had the pleasure to meet. Standing behind her mother, not tall enough to reach her hip yet, is a little girl. All wrapped in a cosy jacket despite the Atlanta heat is the reason why I haven't seen my sister in 3 years.

Moving forward to where Ally can fully see me, making brief eye contact before kneeling down before the little girl. Hands tugging tightly on her mother's leg as she hides her face from mine. It's understandable, I'm an unknown face, so I decided to introduce myself, "Hello," I said gentle, just looking at the innocent girl softly not wanting to overstep my boundaries, "I'm Macy."

I'm oblivious to my surroundings, so much so that I didn't hear the stampede of feet rocketing down the stairs. The only thing I'm focusing on is this little girl. She just looks at me in what I'm assuming is confusion because she's never seen me before and I her. It's new for all of us.

"What's your name?"

I honestly didn't expect an answer, she looked like such a delicate flower, but a genuine smile covered my face when she said "Lydia" in the quietest voice I've ever heard.

"Nice to meet you, Lydia," I say as I reached my hand forward for her to take in her own, and she did. Slowly but surely her hand was in mine, her tiny hand. Smiling softly at Lydia hoping to have her mirror my actions, she does, but it's short-lived as I'm sucked back into the reality that is the rest of my family.

"So you run off, get knocked up and have the audacity to come back here 3 years later begging for a place to stay," laughed Cora at the mentality of her older sister. I can't help but shake my head as I let go of Lydia's hand, her smile falling behind my back, "Cora, she had a kid," I said to my sister hoping to get her to understand, but it seems as though I don't understand either.

"Oh no the kid can stay, but her," she laughed at the thought, "no chance, not again," shaking her head at the idea of us welcoming Ally back into our home, into our family again. Cora is strong-minded, no doubt about it, but when it comes to her family, if anyone stands in between them and happiness, even if it's our family themselves, they best hope they don't cross Cora. 

Cora and Ally have never gotten along. I've always blamed it on the fact that they are too much alike. Cora may be extremely vocal about everything, but Ally is too, just minus the vocal part. You can tell a lot about Ally and how she's feeling just by looking at her. And right now she looks vulnerable. She has a child and I don't know where she has been staying for the last few years but right now she's homeless and what type of family would we be if we shunned out our own.

A terrible one that's what.

"Corrina, if she wants to stay she can stay. If she wants to go she can go. This is just as much her home as it is yours," mom ushered out all in one breath, still baffled that her daughter and newly found granddaughter are standing before her.

I really feel for our mother, ever since Ally vanished she hasn't been the same. It was a drastic change, not enough for the people she sees on her daily shop, but us, her family have noticed that a little light behind our mother's eyes has been duller than usual. Looking at her right now, the light is still flickering but instead with hope. Hope at a new beginning with her daughter and her granddaughter.

"If you ever leave my mother like that again, after everything she has done for us, especially you, it'll be the last thing you do," threatens Cora, never breaking her eyes from Ally who is doing the same.

Coming back to her senses, Ally snaps out of the trance that is Cora's eyes, clicking her fingers like a royal pain in the ass, "Lydia, come," she orders the little girl as she readies herself for the March up the stairs.

Noticing that her mother is no longer standing in front of her, hiding her from the picture that is her family, she rushes to her mother not before looking at me though and I can't help but feel bad, "Lydia if you want you can stay down here, I can make you something to eat," I said trying my best to convince the little girl that she doesn't have to do everything her mother says, but little Lydia shakes her head in rejection. 

Maybe it's because she genuinely just wants to stay with her mom in a foreign place or it could be that her mom is staring at her, as though waiting for Lydia to make the wrong choice. P.S I'm the wrong choice in this situation, according to her.

Stomping her away up the stairs like an angry teenager, she leaves her daughter behind assuming that she will just follow her like a helpless puppy. Unable to hide my pity for the little girl, I attempt to cheer her up a bit, "see you soon DeeDee," I promised as a subtle smile appeared on the 3-year-olds face before running after her mother's tail.

The hallway is left in silence, not an awkward silence but just a thoughtful one. The same thoughts and feelings are running through all our minds; Ally's back, with a child. She was bad enough on her own, but now with a daughter, I fear not only for us but for that little girl.

Rubbing my eyes, as the only thought that is running through my mind behind 'this is not my fault', 'there was nothing I could have done to make her stay', no matter what, if she left for a reason or not, I just hope she keeps DeeDee safe because God knows she never done that when she was here anyway.

Just as I  had enough of the energy to leave he room, a pile of papers tucked under Ally's mattress caught my attention. Behind down to pull them out, I'm shocked at what she had hidden. It as a collection of loose picture. My curiosity getting the better of me, I start to flick through them, she not here to tell me otherwise.

There are ones from her senior year of high school and her only 2 friends, who I've only had the pleasure of meeting once. On was called Barrett from what I remember, I don't remember the other name, all I know is that the unknown friend mysteriously disappeared a few years after they left high school.

The rest of the picture where weird but oddly boring, snaps of her smoking and drinking, kicking a few gravestones, y'know typical Ally behaviour. It's the last picture that struck me, made my blood run cold but in a comforting way. It's a picture of Ally and I for that time I shaved my head. I briefly remember mom taking it after me begging for hours, trying to convince her and Ally that this was a moment the was worth capturing. 

There I stood, tall and proud, both hands on my head with a cheeky grin plastering on my beetroot face, my eyes holding a sheen of water from laughing. It's a contrasting picture. Ally slouched beside me, well a wingspan away from me, because I'm was an embarrassment to her. Her eyes deadly staring into the camera, making no effort to show any emotion.

I remember being disappointed with her lack of effort in the picture, but looking at it now it's perfect. It really shows how we were and are. I always wondered where this picture went. Mom got it reluctantly developed for me and even framed it for my bedside table. I only had it for a few days before it went missing. At first, I blamed mom, believe she wanted to erase the memory from her brain, but all this time Ally had it, and that oddly warms my heart. Sure it was hidden under her bed, but she still had it and kept it. Now I'm deciding to take it back because if the world continues the way it going, I don't know when the next time I'll see my sister will be.

"Do you think we'll ever see her again?" the sudden voice breaking through the air causing me to jump, and I spin around to find Cora leaning on the door frame, looking around the room in wonder just as I had moments before.

"If you asked me a week ago I would have said yes," I replied looking down at the picture in my hand before folding it and putting it into my back pocket, "Now I don't know."

The thought of Ally coming home was always a distant one. I wanted to believe that the day would come where she would be back and our family would be whole again. That was when the world was normal and even then she still showed no signs of ever coming back.

It seems to me as though the world as we know it is changing, coming to an end if you will. The though of Ally coming home was a longshot before but now more than ever.

A redneck just apparently saved my mom life for crying out loud and now I'm having to drive with said redneck to find his brother.

The worlds went mad.

It's changed and I don't know if I like it.

But it seems like I have no choice.

And thats chapter two done. Its going to be an interesting ride thats for sure. 

You got to learn some more about Ally and we also met the lovely man that it Merle Dixon.

If you want to be tagged when I post for this AU just ask and I will for sure do that.

But anyways, yeah, I hope you liked it.

DAISY.

[welcometophu]

The Meaning of Home, Chapter 1

The Meaning of Home Chapter 1

Tags for all Welcome to PHU novels will be available at the PHU tag list on Pillowfort. This list is under construction as of Sept. 5, 2021.

[ First | Next ]

Even knowing that he’ll see him at the end of the trip, it’s strange for Pawel to be driving to his childhood home without Conor in the car. Usually his son would be requesting music changes, playing videos so loud that Pawel could hear them even with Conor’s headphones in place, or generally talking up a storm. Even after cranking the radio up to fill the silence, Pawel feels alone in a way he hasn’t felt in a long, long time.

He can’t blame it entirely on Conor. Yes, as a single father he hasn’t had much, if any, time to himself in the last nine years. But this past academic year has been chaos to the point where it seems strange not to have one of his students in the car as they head off to save the world.

Students, yes, but he’s not that much older than most of them. Some of them are friends as well.

Rest. Take the summer and rest.

The voice in his mind sounds suspiciously like Mac, and he hears Carolyn’s soft, aggravated huff not long after as she adds, Get normal amounts of sleep. Take a shower. Eat real food.

Spend time with your kid, imaginary Mac adds.

Great. He’s back to being that only child who used to have conversations with invisible friends, except now, as an adult, it’s advice about self-care from real people who aren’t even here.

The thing is, they’re not wrong. He knows he has a tendency to focus intently on the one most important thing at hand and tune out everything else. Since fall semester—for the first time in nine years—that wasn’t Conor, and he still feels guilty about that. He feels the kind of guilty that means there are two brand new games for Conor’s handheld system in a bag on the back seat, along with a cooler holding freshly butchered grass-fed bison steaks as a thank you for his father for helping him out.

Pawel exhales.

Maybe he’s having a little trouble letting go of the chaos. In a way, it felt good to be busy. To fix things.

They saved the world.

Nobody knows it, but it happened. And Pawel knows, so he should be satisfied with a job well-done.

The question is: what can he do now?

Rest.

For all that they’re imaginary, the voices of his students are right, and he knows this. It’s just hard to let it all go, to accept that the chaos has ended and he can do that. But he’s clean-shaven, and his hair is neatly trimmed, even if he didn’t go back to his buzz cut. He looks older in the mirror than he remembers being when the school year began. He might even look his age, which would go a long way to gaining respect from incoming freshmen in the fall.

He just needs something to do with himself while on vacation over the summer.

Maybe his old dojang would let him step into a taekwondo class or two while he’s visiting Dad. It’d be nice to be the student rather than the instructor for once.

You couldn’t let go of control that much.

“Shut up.” He says it as if imaginary Mac would even listen.

One song ends, and for a second, the silence in the car echoes before the next song begins.

This isn’t working.

He reaches out to touch the button on his radio dash for the phone, then presses Mac’s number from his contact list.

“Aren’t you with your family?” She starts speaking without bothering to greet him.

He adjusts the volume so that her voice isn’t quite so loud. “Hello to you, too. I’m almost there now. It’s quiet in the car. No Conor. Not even any grouchy almost adults grumbling about saving the world, or muttering about sparring.”

Mac snorts softly. “I’m only a few years younger than you, Pawel. And out of us all, Rory’s probably got the oldest soul. I take it you’re bored?”

“A little,” he admits. “Pels’s family moved into the house on Friday, then left for Burlington. As far as I know, everything’s gone well up there; they weren’t back before I left the house today. Anita’s got my number in case she needs anything for the house while they’re renting it out this summer. Traffic’s been decent, so I’m maybe fifteen minutes from my Dad’s house now, and the silence is killing me. How’s your summer break going?”

There’s a delay before Mac replies, and her voice sounds determinedly cheerful when she does. “It’s a break. I’m thinking about my research, and the fact that my advisor is in Italy until the end of June and told me I can’t work without him there. Which means Mom thought I should come home for a while, and right now things are… awkward… with me and Dad. So. There’s that.”

When Mac says it, Dad means Senator Delwin Palmer. Pawel knows what that meant to Mac as a part of a secret government training program for Talented children, before she came to PHU. He knows that everything they learned about the government involvement in the creation of the soul-destroying Shadows has only made her relationship with her stepfather more difficult.

He makes a small noise. “Are you going back to PHU soon?”

“Mid June, so I’ll be here about three weeks. I’m going to take my brother to the festival when Rory and Thorne are in DC in a couple of weeks, and I’m spending most of my time in the museums and libraries in DC until then.” She exhales. “I’ve thought about going to see my father, but I think that’ll be the weekend that I drive back up to PHU. I’ll just stop in to visit him in the city while he’s got some time off work.” Mac hesitates, her words more forceful when she asks, “How long are you planning on staying with your dad?”

Fine, Pawel will accept the change of topic, changing conversational directions at the same time as he takes the exit into town that will lead to his childhood home.

Sort of. It’s not the same house he grew up in, but it’s close to the same neighborhood.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I’m on leave for the summer. It’s not a sabbatical—they don’t do that for less than a year, and right now they won’t let me go for a whole year until the department has more experienced faculty. But it’s a paid leave and I’m supposedly researching my next book. The thing is, Dad doesn’t have a lot of space since he moved into the retirement community. I’m going to be crashing on his couch. Conor’s got the bed in the guest room.”

“Sounds great for your back.” Mac laughs. “You’ll probably still sleep better than you did for most of the spring.”

“Probably,” Pawel agrees. “I think—” He stops abruptly, because that makes it sound like he has a plan in place. “I’m going to play it by ear. Conor’s made friends there, although he’s clearly missing Alan and home, too. Everyone keeps telling me that I need to just stop trying to fix things and take a break. Including a voice in my head that sounds suspiciously like you.”

“Good to know my voice has infected your brain, like the way I hear yours saying ‘commit to the kick’ whenever I’m sparring and going for that head kick against a much taller opponent,” Mac says dryly.

“They’re all taller than you.” Pawel takes a series of turns, remembering to turn left instead of right at the critical intersection. He slows down; there’s no one else on the road behind him to annoy, and he’s not quite ready to arrive yet.

Mac sputters. “Rude.”

“True.”

“Fine. True,” she agrees. “Taekwondo is a sport for tall people. I’m just a good jumper, and before you say it, no, I’m not teleporting to get there. Most of the time.”

He rolls down the road towards a four-way stop. There’s a sign across the way proclaiming the entrance to Hart Acres. If he turned left, he could make his way to the police station where his dad works, and right would loop him back behind his old neighborhood.

Straight takes him into his dad’s new life in a retirement village where half the people who live there aren’t actually retired. His dad’s been living there for a year, and Pawel’s not sure when he’ll finally step down as Police Chief. He likes his work far too much to give it up.

Dad says it’s easier to keep working when he doesn’t have to worry about the little things like mowing the lawn. Hart Acres takes care of that for him.

Pawel’s pretty sure Dad’s going to work until he has both feet in the grave, and then he might just keep going.

“Hey.” Mac’s voice is low. “Did I lose you?”

Right. He was having a conversation.

“I’m just about there,” Pawel admits. “There’s an old lady walking her fluffy dog down the street. I guess I should hang up. Focus on finding the place and not hitting the two people that are in the middle of the road having a conversation.”

No exaggeration. Now that he’s pulled into Hart Acres and is following the first traffic circle he encounters around to the second exit, there are small knots of people gathered everywhere. Including two smack dab in the middle of one of the side streets.

They see him looking and lift their hands in cheerful synchronized waves.

“I am really not ready to see my dad as the kind of guy who needs to be surrounded by old people looking for a social life,” Pawel mutters. He makes a disgruntled noise when Mac snickers.

He’s in front of the house before he can say anything else.

“Go,” Mac says. “Hug Conor for me, and tell him to work hard. He’s still in school, right?”

“Another three weeks, yeah,” Pawel says. “I might take him out for a day on Friday to head up to Buffalo for Rory and Thorne’s tour, though. It’s a holiday weekend, so maybe the school has the day off—they do weird things with snow days sometimes. Although the weather was strange this winter and they might not have the extra days.”

“Nikki would apologize if you need her to,” Mac says. She’s quiet for a moment. “Hey. You really should take the time to rest. Let your dad be the parent for a little while. Enjoy being home, and with your family. You don’t have anything you need to save right now. The world isn’t ending. Just have fun for the summer.”

“Only if you promise me that you’ll rest, too,” he responds. He wants to say that he understands that it’s not that easy. He understands that talking to Delwin Palmer is going to be complicated, and that putting herself back in that environment only brings the PTSD out in full force. “You can always call me if you need someone to talk to.”

“I’ll let you know when I’m back in the area,” she says. “Maybe we can get together and spar. I’m taking a break from organized classes while I’m home.”

Her old dojang isn’t full of happy memories like Pawel’s is.

“Sure, we can do that.” He catches movement out of the corner of his eye; the door to his father’s unit nudges open. “Conor’s coming out. I need to go.”

“Bye, Pawel. Rest.”

“I will,” he promises.

The music blares for a moment after she hangs up; he turns the key and silences it. He manages to get out of the car as Conor races around it and slams into him, hugging him hard. Pawel wraps his arms around him, and exhales as he feels the familiar crackle of Conor’s magic around him.

“I missed you,” Pawel murmurs. His hand is between Conor’s shoulder-blades, and it feels higher than it used to rest in this same position. “Did you grow in the last two months?”

“An inch since he arrived.” Dad stands on the lawn next to a girl about Conor’s age that Pawel doesn’t recognize. Her mouth is pinched and her brows furrowed. She has her arms crossed tight across her chest as she leans forward, a myriad of braids falling forward across her shoulders and down her back. Dad puts a hand on her shoulder, and she straightens up, shoulders relaxing. “I started a growth door for him here. We’ll need to get a mark on it for you so he can see what he’s aiming for.”

There was a piece of trim in Pawel’s childhood house that had marks for every few months of his age, from toddlerhood to adulthood. He wonders if the new owners painted over the careful notes made in his mother’s hand, and the messier ones his father wrote after she passed away.

“I had Dziadziu put Emma on the door, too.” Conor slips from Pawel’s hold and grabs his hand, dragging him towards Dad and the girl who still watches warily. “This is Emma. She’s in my class, and she’s a Weather Witch, and she’s my friend. We’re both new here. She’s talked to Alan with me.”

“I know they’re married,” Emma says with a heavy sigh and an eyeroll. “Conor’s not my boyfriend. I don’t want a boyfriend.”

“You say that like people have been trying to tell you that you can’t be friends because you’re a boy and a girl.” Pawel stops in front of her and holds out his hand solemnly. “Hello, Emma. I’m Pawel. And don’t worry, I understand that most people are full of shit. Right now my best friend is a girl and I can assure you I have no romantic intentions towards her whatsoever. And if I did, she might kick me in the balls.”

Dad makes a strangled sound.

Emma tilts her head, brow still furrowed. “I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t say that people are full of shit.” She takes his hand and looks at their joined hands in some confusion, then drops it again. “But you’re right. They are. Come on, Conor.”

“I think you’d like Mac,” Conor says as he walks by Emma’s side and they disappear into the house. “She’s small but fierce. She used to be a gymnast and now she kicks ass.”

Pawel should say something, but he did just tell them that people are full of shit, so maybe he can cut him some slack for language this time.

“I did say that someday you’d be lucky enough to have a kid just like you,” Dad observes. “That said, Conor’s been a good kid while he’s been here. Getting good grades, getting his work done. He and Emma bonded straight off—her parents disappeared not long before you did, so they had something in common. Except, of course, you’re back and they’re not. She’s living with a foster family here.”

There are a dozen potential things wrong with everything Dad’s just said. Pawel rolls the thoughts around in his mind as he heads back to his car, opening the doors so that he and Dad can both take several things into the house. “Do they know she’s Talented?” he asks.

“You know where the guest room is.” Dad points through the living room and kitchenette to the small hall beyond. “Right at the end there. Just take Conor’s stuff down. We’ll put your things to the side in the living room for now.”

Conor pops his head out of his room just as Pawel arrives. “What do you mean for now? Aren’t we staying all summer? I thought we’d stay here all summer, Dad. Dziadziu said we could.”

There are times when Pawel wonders what their family looks like from the outside: three generations having three separate conversations in tangled instances, answering questions in random order. He can see where Emma sits on the bed, Conor’s tablet in her hands. She doesn’t seem concerned.

“I’m sleeping on the couch, Conor. We’ll stay in town, but we might need to get a hotel room. I’m going to need a bed eventually,” Pawel points out.

“I’ll move in with Emma. Her dads wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t think they’d even notice,” Emma says dryly. “I like Conor better than Matt.”

“She has four foster siblings,” Conor stage whispers.

Emma looks up, gaze pinning him. “They aren’t my siblings. I’m an only child. We’re all just fosters in the same house, except Nevaeh and Jennie. I think they’re almost as good as adopted. Jennie doesn’t even remember her parents.”

For once, Pawel is the one getting whiplash from the swift turns in conversation.

“Is everyone Talented?” It’s the same question, asked a different way, and this time he throws it out there for anyone to answer. He drops the bag of Conor’s summer clothes on the bed, next to where Emma sits.

“Her dads are both Talented!” Conor bounces up onto the bed, almost knocking the suitcase off. “One’s Clan and one’s—”

“They aren’t my dads,” Emma snaps. She drops Conor’s tablet on the bed and stands up, her body shivering so hard that her braids shake. “My mom and dad are coming back. They aren’t my dads at all. I’m just staying there until—”

“My dad can find them.”

Emma’s mouth is slightly open, her voice a small squeak. “What?”

“My dad is really good at everything about Talented people. He’s an expert.” Conor nods quickly. “He’s so much an expert that he teaches people not to be stupid—uninformed,” he corrects himself, “about what it means to be Talented. He knows everything.”

“Not everything,” Pawel tries to stay, but Conor steamrolls over him.

“He just saved the world, and he’s friends with Clan and with Mages, and we know this entire commune of Mages up in Burlington and if anyone can find your parents, he can,” Conor says firmly. “You’ll do it, Dad, right?”

“I think I’d need a little more information before I can promise that,” Pawel says slowly.

“Your father is supposed to be resting.” Dad stands behind him, and Pawel doesn’t need to turn to know the look Dad gives Conor. He was on the receiving end of that look himself many times as a child. Dad continues, “The last time your father got involved in something, he disappeared and you came here.”

Conor’s mouth snaps shut, lips pressed and his cheeks flushed. “He came back,” he mutters. “He always comes back.”

Emma pats the bed and when Conor sits, she puts her arms around him and holds on. “Maybe mine will come back, just like yours did. Then your dad won’t have to go find them.” Her whisper is too loud to be entirely secret. “I don’t want your dad to disappear again.”

“Me neither,” Conor admits.

“Emma.” 

“Dziadziu!” Conor interrupts him. “Did you ask Emma’s dads—”

“They’re not my dads.”

“—if she can stay over tonight?” The sadness is gone from Conor’s expression as he bounces on the bed. “She’s got stuff in a drawer from the last time she stayed. She can get on the bus with me in the morning, and we can play games with Alan online later.” His gaze skates to Pawel. “If you say it’s okay, of course.”

It’s only been a couple of months, and Conor has somehow built himself a routine here. Pawel isn’t entirely sure how he fits into it.

It’s strange thinking about Conor growing up and growing apart from Pawel when his son is only nine years old.

“I talked to them,” Dad assures them. “But that means sleep tonight. It’s a school night, and I’ll be checking. No magic after dark. No surprise storms. No more rain indoors.”

“That was once!” Conor protests.

“Lights out by half past eight, and I want you asleep by nine,” Dad says in a tone that brooks no argument. “You’ve got plenty of time before then; we haven’t even had dinner yet. You might even be sick of each other by then.”

“Never!” Conor and Emma chorus.

Pawel has to wait for Dad to move before they can both slip out of the room, leaving the door cracked. “I’m glad he’s made friends here,” Pawel says quietly. “He and Alan are—well, I’d almost call them codependent sometimes. I was worried. But they both seem to be doing well.”

“Conor’s fallen on his feet, that’s for sure. He’s a lot like another child I once knew: just starts talking until he finds his spot to fit in. Might even have a bit of a savior complex.”

Pawel gives his father a dark look. “I do not have a savior complex. If I did, I’d have followed you into law enforcement, rather than going into academia.”

Dad smiles. “You’re still saving people. You just go about it in a different way on a daily basis. But it seems to me like you didn’t even hesitate when you found out your students needed your help. You can’t resist a puzzle.”

“Apple didn’t fall far from the tree, I get it,” Pawel mutters. “Fine, fine. We’re all peas in a pod, and a hundred other trite descriptive phrases. The Szczek men have similar traits.”

“Mm.” Dad leads the way outside, so they can retrieve the last few things from Pawel’s car. “Some of us have learned how to ask for help,” he says quietly. “Conor’s made himself at home in Emma’s foster house. He’s spent more than a few nights there, and yes, before you ask, I trust her foster fathers completely. One of them works with me. But that’s something you might want to think about this summer, Pawel.”

Pawel shoulders the backpack with his computer in it, and closes the door to his car. “What’s that, Dad?”

“You don’t have to do everything on your own,” Dad reminds him. “For the summer, you’ve got me. Think about what to do when you get home. The fate of the world doesn’t need to rest on your shoulders alone.”

It seems like everyone’s got something to say about his bad habits. The thing is, Pawel’s got help at home. He’s a single father; he knows he needs assistance sometimes. He’s got Alan’s family next door. Emily’s always willing to help out with Conor. But he’s also got… a lot of responsibility. He’s a professor, and a dean, and he leads Coven and the taekwondo team. 

Who the hell else is he going to rely on? Pawel does the things no one else is available to do.

“Don’t worry, Dad,” he says, because he knows it’s what Dad needs to hear. “I’m not going to overwork myself again. I’ll make sure I’ve got help.”

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[from-home]

𑁍 MARK LEE┊ 𝒔𝒊𝒙𝒕𝒚 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒔, 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕 / one ˎˊ˗

𑁍 summary : the one where mark lee time travels back and forth throughout the past and future with his crush, (y/n) ˎˊ˗

𑁍 pairing : mark lee x older!reader (by like three years lmao) ˎˊ˗

𑁍 word count : 6.7k ˎˊ˗

𑁍 genre : fluff, comedy (i hope??), minimal angst, time travel!au ˎˊ˗

𑁍 warnings : swearing, unrequited love (i know that shit hurts omg), my humour is ass, mark gives me slight second hand embarrassment in this, bad writing??, i gave up like halfway through this lol, first time writing a fic like this pls have mercy, it’s almost 2:30 am i'm too tired to proof read fuck ˎˊ˗

𑁍 a/n : first chapter of my first ever fic on here hehe - idk when the next chapter might come tbh but hopefully i’ll continue this series for my own enjoyment! in the meantime, uni still kicks my ass >:(( but anyway, enjoy and i hope that at least someone will find joy with this!    ˎˊ˗

[ 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟬 : 𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝟬 ]

when your pastor dad’s best friend was the biggest nerd in high school and became an eccentric scientist

O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,

  What a beautiful Pussy you are,

       You are,

       You are!

What a beautiful Pussy you are!

      If he could write like that, maybe Mark wouldn't need to be here in this boring literature class of his. Don't get him wrong, he liked writing, and he liked the way he could express his emotions through a pen and paper. But for the twenty-one-year-old boy who could barely sit still in one place without his mind wandering off into four different dimensions, it was hard to be interested in whatever the professor was rambling on about. Maybe Professor Jung was telling the story of how she met Dylan Thomas' widow's sister's friend's cousin, and how much of an artistic impact it had on her. She had told the story a good three times in the past two months - Mark kept count.

      Yeah, writing was fun and all, but literature class specifically was boring and dull to him. "Oh but Mark, why take this course then?" one might ask. But one should also know that it was a necessary course if Mark wanted to earn his oh-so-coveted diploma.

      Curse him for majoring in creative writing. His dad always did wonder why writers even bother writing when the bible exists.

      But maybe one day, an hour and a half of John Keats would produce him some ideas for a romantic poem that he could write and gift off to his love of seven years... and counting.

      (Y/N), the shiniest of all pearls and the most beautiful of all Mona Lisa's, the older woman and her beauty often left Mark stunned and helplessly in love. He first met her when he was fourteen, when she had been introduced as his seventeen-year-old tutor. She was so pretty back then, and still was now. In fact, it was as if she didn't age at all!

      Someone who resembled a goddess like (Y/N)  deserved only the most romantic of all romantic poems, and Mark Lee made it a mission to be the one to write it for her. He was so helplessly in love with her that he was able to channel his feelings for her into five different written forms: poems, song lyrics, an 'A for effort?' drawing of her, letters, and anonymous blog posts about how "unrequited love hurts".

      Sure, those blog posts were anonymous, but as good as Mark thought he was at hiding his feelings for her, everybody in town and their ancestors' spirits knew about the big crush Mark had on her. But no one bothered to tell (Y/N) about her not-so-secret admirer and nobody bothered to let Mark know that his mysterious crush wasn’t as well-kept to himself as he thought it was.

      But it was cute. Not the part where Mark slowly died on the inside as each day passed without his feelings being returned (that was pretty sad, everybody acknowledged), but the part where the adoration in his eyes were so clear for (Y/N). Legend went that he held stars in his eyes whenever his gaze rested on the older woman - like, actual stars from the galaxy. Or so the first-hand accounts go.

      Mark Lee was a talented and hardworking boy, that much was a shared sentiment by everybody in town. He excelled at all subjects, mowed the lawn twice just because he thought he missed a spot, gave it his all at church every Sunday by rapping and dancing in the name of Jesus Christ until he was reduced to sweat and threatening to rip his dress shirt off - he was a jack of all trades. There were even rumours that whenever it was time for a 'Make a Wish' patient to... make a wish in heaven, he would dress up as Spiderman and visit them in the hospital to make their final dreams come true. So maybe that's why it was so endearing, his one-sided love for his noona. If there was one person who could jump over that hurdle of "just friends" and out of the friend zone, it had to be Mark, the boy who's always gave it his all in everything ever since he moved here from Canada when he was twelve. It was one thing to have this crush that you desperately wanted to be returned, but it was another to have the whole town cheering for you - it said a lot about Mark's character.

      Which is why! There was no other perfect test subject for Scientist Kim, the local eccentric scientist who was obsessed with creating his "next big invention". He also happened to be the best friend of the town's pastor (weird combination, everybody knows), courtesy of their high school days and a misunderstanding over a carton of milk. The town's pastor also oh-so-coincidentally happened to be Mark's father, who had lived in Korea for all his life until he moved to Canada so his wife could give birth to baby Mark. He ended up moving back to his hometown, however, thus creating a new relationship between his best friend and son.

      Now Scientist Kim - who liked to go by "Cabbage" as a homage to his idol, Charles Babbage - didn’t really care about Mark's painful one-sided love, but he knew the boy could never say no to his father's best friend from high school, so there was no one better to try out his experiments and inventions than Mark. Like, there was literally no one else at all - the whole town swore Cabbage was out of his mind and were still waiting for the day the newspaper would come out with a headline that he's been charged with involuntary manslaughter. Everybody would be disappointed, but not surprised. But such an incident hadn’t happened yet, so for now, Cabbage was still freely working hard everyday to successfully complete and unveil the invention that would propel him to "the front page of every science magazine and a Nobel Prize in Physics".

      And it just so happened to be today, October 30th 2020, when Mark received a phone call from his dad's best friend in the middle of class. He was glad he kept his phone on vibrate, but god, was it distracting. To answer or not to? Why now of all times? Right, he forgot that some people don't have anything else to do with their lives other than... creating things that usually end up on fire by the end of it. You know, now that he thought back on it, the last time Mark willingly participated in Cabbage's experiment which involved some tinfoil, antennas, and laser beam machining, it left Mark's right shoe on fire - thank God he had brought a fire extinguisher over to Cabbage’s house with him.

      Just that memory alone convinced Mark to ignore the call, nearly forgetting about it once it had stopped ringing if not for the fact he received another call just seconds later. "What is this, an infatuation?" Mark grumbled to himself, before glancing up at the front to see if Professor Jung was distracted enough for him to take this call without her noticing. It didn't help that he sat three rows away from the front. But she still seemed to be rambling on about how much she loved Dylan Thomas' works, and that was a sign for him to accept the call. He kept his voice to a hushed whisper, however, "Hello-"

      "Mark! You have to come over!" There was no way Professor Jung did not hear that screech that came from his phone. He glanced up nervously, noticing his classmate's startled gazes on him. But his eyes wandered over to the front, and judging by how Professor Jung was now going on about Dylan Thomas' "attractive appearance", it seemed he was in the safe for now.

      "Cabbage, I'm in class, so could you keep it down?" Mark hissed quietly into the phone.

      "Right, right, sorry!" While he was still loud even after lowering his voice down, it was more than quiet enough for Professor Jung not to notice, thankfully. "Mark, I've just completed my latest invention. But this isn't just any invention, it's the invention of both my - and everybody's dreams!"

      Mark would be mildly curious if not for the fact that Cabbage said that about every invention of his, but he figured that his dad was going to urge him to go anyway, even if Mark didn’t want to. "But he's my best friend, Mark!" Jeez, because how could he possibly say no to the power of friendship?

      "Mark? Boy? You still there?" Cabbage’s voice pulled Mark out of his thoughts, and the boy could do nothing but sigh. This was just going to be like every other time - he’d be introduced to some machine that supposedly did one thing, said machine would catch on fire the next minute, and it would all result in Mark going home an hour later.

      "Fine, I'll be there. After class in like, half an hour." Mark reassured the scientist, and he swore, he could hear something catching on fire in the background.

      "Great!" He then heard rushed footsteps and... a fire extinguisher? "See you then!" And the call ended.

      He just couldn’t wait.

       When visitors would come to the humble town of Uicheon (의천), located just thirty minutes away by car from the bustling capital city, Seoul, the first thing they would notice was how much the town gave off Suburban American vibes, like walking through a town where the main characters of some random Disney high school movie lived. All single detached houses, varying in style from Country French to Cape Cod with recent contemporary and modern upgrades to those houses by residents who wanted to "spice it up".

        Uicheon was a town seen by others where most of the population was upper-middle class. There was nothing wrong with that at all, and actually, the residents of Uicheon were both happy and welcoming of anybody and anyone who stepped foot into town or even took an interest in moving, no matter of their social or economic status.

       If anything, the residents of Uicheon - the ones who've lived in the town for longer than ten years at least - were often worried that those who did show interest of moving in inevitably get... scared off. By one particular daunting house.

       It was a beautiful town. No seriously, Uicheon had been mentioned on multiple "Top 5 beautiful towns just outside of Seoul that you should visit!" lists published on the internet. And in the beautiful small town where all the houses provide comfort and beauty, surrounded by flowers on nearly every available patch of grass like something straight out of a magazine, there stood a modern house - the only completely modern house in the town - its exterior all... black. Even the big windows were tinted black, and it was obvious that the house stuck out like a sore thumb. Sometimes, the local kids told stories of how the house was abandoned, and was home to a ghost with a vengeful spirit inside who wanted to steal your teeth. The residents of Uicheon had gotten used to the house's presence already, but it didn’t stop the mutual sentiment of "...really?" amongst them.

       And currently, Mark stood in front of its black front doors, ringing the black doorbell and covering his ears as trumpets echoed from inside the house, playing to the tune of the guitar solo of Gun N' Roses' 'Sweet Child O' Mine.' Only seconds later, did the door swing open, revealing a robot, half of Mark's height. "SCANNING FACE... HELLO M-A-R-K, MARK." It greeted, well, robotically.

       "Hey, Edison," Mark greeted the robot nonchalantly, walking in and shutting the door behind him, "where's Cabbage?" He asked as he took off his shoes and placed it on the nearby shoe rack.

       "LOCATING THE DOCTOR..." Edison's eyes turned yellow, colour blinking repeatedly until it turned into a green light and stayed like that. "DOCTOR LOCATED - HE IS IN HIS LABORATORY DOWNSTAIRS."

       Because was it really surprising that the house belonged to a guy who invented things for a living and went by the name of a vegetable in a bizarre way to honour his idol?

       "Got it, I'll go meet up with him then." Mark informed, heading down the hall until he reached the black spiral staircase that led both to the third floor and bottom floor. It was really nice up there on the third floor though; Mark had been there before and it even came with a movie room! Too bad Cabbage rarely used it because he "doesn't have time for action sequences". So Mark, being the loyal lab assistant/test subject he was, headed down instead to the bottom floor, where he was greeted by a hallway that was lined up with pictures of old men on the walls. "My inspirations!" Cabbage would say. Among them were the likes of Albert Einstein, Thomas Edison (who he named his robot after, clearly), Nikola Tesla... you got the drift.

       Regardless, Mark never stayed in the hall longer than he needed to - he wasn’t sure if portraits of old men who were dead by now staring at him was exactly his kind of vibe.

       At the very end of the hall, all that awaited him was a grey metallic door that had some vapour seeping through the narrow space at the bottom of it. "Shit, I didn't bring a fire extinguisher today..." Mark cursed, grabbing onto the straps of his backpacks and readjusting it on his shoulders. "It's okay, Mark. He hasn't killed you before, so he can't kill you today...?" He wasn’t sure what the logic behind that thought was but you couldn’t blame him for trying to... reassure himself for whatever was about to come beyond those doors. It was funny to him; he had been the lab rat of many of Cabbage's crazy experiments and inventions, yet he kept coming back and every time he did, the jitters were always there.

       Maybe it wasn’t because he was scared of death. Because he wasn’t - his father always drilled the idea into his head that God would welcome him with open arms when the time came. At the very least, if Mark died - most likely because of one of these experiments and inventions - he'd be bringing Cabbage with him. But hey, that was beyond the point.

       If not the fear of death, then what? Maybe, just maybe... one of these days, one of Cabbage's revolutionary inventions would actually be successful. That for all of the craziness that's going on inside the mad scientist's head, it would finally pay off.

       If only he knew when.

       Mark reached for the handle and twisted it, pulling the door open and nearly coughing when a whole cloud of mist and vapour rushed at him. "Jeez, Cabbage, what are you doing this time?" Mark coughed into his arm as he took a step into the laboratory. He actually couldn't see the scientist at first, waving his hand around in hopes that he'd be able to swat away the mist and vapour. The space around him eventually did clear, though, revealing...

       Nothing?

       Instead of the usual grand machine that looked like it was taped together, Mark was greeted with... a clear space. The scientist was over at his desk just up a set of stairs that led to a second floor within the big room. "Cabbage!" Mark called after him, waving his hands to get his attention.

       Whatever the scientist was busy doing, it was important enough to leave Mark ignored for a good five seconds. It left him pouting, though the scientist eventually did glance over at the boy, his eyes widening behind his circular glasses. "Mark, boy, there you are!" Cabbage sprang out of his seat, quickly rushing down to the boy he had called over. He held some sort of watch in his hands, like it was the most precious thing in the world. Jeez, since when did Cabbage wear Rolex? "Took you long enough! I was bouncing in my seat waiting for you to come over! But in the meantime, I was able to complete another one after confirming my calculations for the twenty-seventh time..."

       One thing that nobody wanted to do was sit through Cabbage's rambling, prompting Mark to speak up. "Whoa, calm down, Cabbage. What's going on? Where's your invention?"

       "Oh Mark, you're looking at it." Cabbage held out the watch and Mark raised an eyebrow.

       "That small thing?" Mark narrowed his eyes at the watch in the scientist's hand. "Are you sure? Last time I came in for one of your creations, it was twice my size and almost killed me." But knowing the kind of person Cabbage was, Mark wouldn't be too surprised if this little watch managed to wreck havoc as well. How ironic it would be, for something so small to cause so much chaos.

       Cabbage shook his head, meeting Mark's gaze with oddly serious eyes. "Mark, the creation I hold in my hand can - and will - change the world. If left in the wrong hands, everything could collapse. Society will crumble, the universe will be left in a never-ending stream of terror, reality will no longer exist, the concept of time will-"

       "Okay, okay," Mark was left, once again, trying to calm down the frantic scientist, "Cabbage, deep breaths. Tell me, what did you create?" It couldn't be that bad that it left the older man going on some admittedly fear-inducing rant.

       "A time travel machine."

       One Mississippi, two Mississippi...

       "Alright, I'll see you next time then, Cabbage." And almost immediately, Mark turned on his heel, prepared to just dip out of there.

       "Wait, no, Mark!" The scientist called after the boy, grabbing a hold of his sleeve, "Please, hear me out!"

       "Time travel, Cabbage!" Mark whirled around, disbelief painted in his features. "Do you even hear yourself right now? That's impossible! This is impossible! Listen, I'm fine with being your test subject but even I have to put my foot down somewhere when things get a bit too crazy!"

       Despite Mark's reasonable concerns, Cabbage really didn't feel like letting his lab assistant slip away from the tip of his fingers, especially now of all times. "Come on, Mark! Twenty-seven times! I checked my calculations twenty-seven times! Don't let my hard work go down the drain!"

       "Then do it yourself! Time travel yourself!" Mark exclaimed.

       "I can't! I need you to go so I can stay behind and collect all the data while making sure you don't get stuck in the future or something!" Cabbage explained.

       Unfortunately, Mark's face still showed utter disbelief. "You know, this really doesn't help your case, Cabbage!"

       "Fine! We'll do this the fair way then!" Cabbage shouted, holding his fist out.

       "Are you serious? Rock, paper, scissors?!" Mark cried out, covering his eyes. If there was one thing he couldn't say no to, it was rock, paper, scissors. Why? Maybe because he boasts a seven-hundred-fifty-two win record, with a mere twenty-one losses in the game. As you could probably assume, Mark was the undisputed rock, paper, scissors king in Uicheon, and only two kinds of people would dare challenge him in the game when it came to bets. Those who were bold and those who were desperate.

       "I mean it, Mark! If you win, you can walk right out that door and never look back. I won't force this onto you. But if I win..." If Cabbage won, "you have to at least give this experiment a thought."

       "Wait, that's it?" Mark uncovered his eyes, surprise in his voice. But hey, it wasn't a bad deal at all - in fact, the opposite. If Mark won - which he was pretty much guaranteed to - he could leave. If he didn't, he could pretend he thought it over and just say no in the end. "Well shit, say no more, Cabbage." And out Mark's fist went. “On shoot?”

       "On shoot." The scientist confirmed, the two men placing their fists behind their backs.

       "Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!"

       Rock for Mark, and... rock for Cabbage.

       "You got lucky." Mark rolled his shoulders back. "But this is it." And back their fists went behind them.

       "Rock, paper, scissors... shoot!!"

       Scissors for Mark, and... rock for Cabbage.

       "I won..." Cabbage glanced down at his fist, mouth left agape, "I-I won! Against you!"

       Yikes, better make that record seven-hundred-fifty-two wins to twenty-two losses now.

       "I-I..." Mark was still in disbelief, for a totally different reason now, however. "I... I lost?" Under such circumstances too... but seriously! Time travel was a bit too much! "H-Hey, that doesn't mean I'm going to be going through with this! Remember, you said if you won, you'd let me think about it!" Mark reminded.

       "Yeah, but only because I didn't think I'd actually win!" Cabbage snorted, shaking his head as he tucked the watch safely in the pocket of his white lab coat. "But I am a man of my word, so I'll give you some time to think about it. How about until the end of the day?" He suggested.

       "That's a bit too soon, don't you think?" Mark frowned, not really liking the idea of being forced into a decision so quickly.

       "Sorry, is that loser talk?" God, that damn Cabbage always knew how to get under Mark's skin.

       "Fine, by the end of the day. But don't be surprised if my answer doesn't change." Mark warned. "Now if that's it, I'll be going." Mark huffed, turning around and heading to the door once more. This time, the scientist let him go, but not without some parting words.

       "See you soon, Mark."

       (Y/N) doesn't know where her life went wrong.

       Okay, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration and a dramatic one as well, but it didn't change the fact that instead of living out in the city and pursuing her dream as a world renown film director, she was stuck in her small hometown, working full-time at a film-rental store.

       What was even the point of this store anyway? Everything was online nowadays anyway - who did the owner think he was, trying to compete with Netflix?

       "One Mississippi, two Mississippi..." (Y/N) mumbled to herself from behind the counter, staring dully at the analog clock hung just above the front doors. An analog clock - what year was this again?

       "(Y/N)," the voice of the store's owner, Mr. Yoon, was a less than welcoming disruption to her daily "clock-watching" (as she termed it herself), but at least it was a good way to remind her that the day was almost over, "did the kids all go home already?"

       (Y/N) nodded, reaching below into the counter for a piece of paper with names and times. "Yup, Jungwoo and Sungchan just finished their shifts half an hour ago." She pointed to their names on the paper, "Signed out here."

       "Great. You're in charge of closing up for today then, I have business in the city." Mr. Yoon informed, proudly readjusting his grip on the handles of his briefcase.

       "Godspeed, Mr. Yoon." (Y/N) nodded, watching as the man left with a nod. And as the doors closed behind him, the female found herself alone in the store. All alone... which actually wasn't even that uncommon.

       (Y/N); twenty-four years old, graduated from a local college two years ago with a degree in Film Studies with hopes of eventually entering the field of film-making and directing. She had high hopes, especially when she graduated. "To the city and A-list I go!" She could remember cheering that day in her car, diploma in hand and graduation gown still on.

       But somebody must have forgotten to tell her that the university you went to mattered - and just how competitive the job market was for... pretty much every job.

       Now this wasn't to say the college she attended was bad or anything, it just wasn't... one of the SKY universities.  And before she knew it, when it came time for job hunting, the positions were constantly being filled out by "better candidates" and after a certain amount of "we regret to inform you"s, (Y/N) decided to go back home.

       Home, in the beautiful yet small town of Uicheon. All she wanted was to make it big, live in a nice condo in Seoul and shop at luxury brands. Yet now, she found herself wearing what was possibly a ten-year-old uniform from the back storage with a name tag that was always tilted at a forty-five degree angle no matter how many times she tried to fix it.

       But don't get her wrong! She hadn't given up yet - she absolutely would not! Her films might not be playing in theatres or at the Busan International Film Festival, but she still enjoyed writing up ideas and getting some of her co-workers to act out some scenes for her while she filmed eagerly with her trusty camcorder.

       The Sony HDR-CX675; this bad boy cost her a good two months of saving up but God, was it worth it. Jungwoo in a wig and Sungchan throwing pens like they were daggers had never looked so good in HD until (Y/N) had gotten her hands on that beloved camcorder of hers.

       "Should I film the clock or something?" She sighed, eyes wandering back over to the analog clock. At least she only had an hour left before the store closed, and she usually spent most of that time cleaning up anyway.

       And so that hour began, dreadfully long until with only ten minutes to spare, the front door had opened, prompting (Y/N) to rush back to the counter from the storage room, though not without grumbling to herself quietly about what asshole comes into a store ten minutes before they close.

       But it wasn't just anybody who came in - it was Mark, the boy who always complimented her hair no matter how lazy she had been to brush it that day. Still, flattery always earned some brownie points in (Y/N)’s books. So she wasn't hesitant at all when she had greeted Mark. "Hey, it's nice to see you here! Renting a movie?" She asked, resting her arms on the counter top.

       "Yeah, looking for some Christian-friendly Halloween movie. For the kids at church this Sunday, since Halloween is tomorrow." Mark chuckled shaking his head.

       "Let me see what I can find," (Y/N) grinned as she slipped away from the counter and to one of the shelves, "I'll be honest though, you're probably better off showing the kids some cartoon from Netflix or something."

       As if Mark was going to tell her that he insisted to his dad on renting a movie, for he wanted to see and talk to the girl of his dreams who currently had her back turned to him. "Well you know us, terrible with technology." Instead, that was all he could muster up.

       "I'll bet." She snickered jokingly, turning back to him with a movie now in her hand, "Toy Story of Terror sound good to you?"

       "Better than showing them Scream." Mark shrugged before heading back to the counter with her. "I'll pay with debit."

       "Mhm," (Y/N) nodded, taking his card and swiping it for him through the machine, "you know the usual, watch within thirty days and return it after those thirty days." She reminded him with a yawn. God forbid Mr. Yoon ever see that.

       "Busy day?" Mark offered a small sympathetic smile as he took his card back as well as the movie. "I kind of get it. Cabbage called me in for one of his inventions today."

       "Today?" She asked, watching as the boy across from her nodded. "What was it this time?" Everybody in town felt bad for Mark since he was the one always testing out Cabbage's inventions, but at the same time, at least it wasn't them?

       "Gosh, you wouldn't believe me if I said it." He shook his head with a heavy sigh. "A time travel machine - or like, a time travel watch, I guess."

       "Time travel?" The gasp from the female was expected; anybody would be surprised. "I always knew Cabbage was ambitious but definitely not to the extent of time travel!"

       "Yeah, needless to say, I said no. Or like, I told him I would think about it, you know?" Mark frowned. "I just can't believe... time travel of all things."

       "I'll be honest," there was a smile spreading on (Y/N)’s face, to the slight surprise of Mark, "the idea of time travel sounds so cool though. I'd love to try it out." When Mark had brought up what had happened at Cabbage's house, he didn't think (Y/N) would actually be... interested in the scientist's invention. Definitely not when it was so absurd. But she looked so cute, the way she stood up straighter and her attentive eyes as he talked about it. Gosh, he wished he could tell her that it wasn't worth the time. But her interest was clear, that much he couldn't ignore.

       "Then... why don't you try it in my place?" Mark suggested hesitantly. He didn't want (Y/N) and her pretty little self anywhere near those dangerous creations, for concern of her safety. But she really seemed to be interested in this, and this... it was the least he could do.

       "Alone? No thanks." She giggled softly, to the relief of the boy who had suggested it in the first place. "Maybe if someone else was with me though. Like a time travel duo!" Hold up - someone else?

       "This is your chance, Mark!" His inner voice practically screamed at him. Anything for (Y/N), right? "But it's so dangerous!" His other inner voice tried deterring him from going through with what he was about to suggest. But for (Y/N)! "Then," Mark felt his heartbeat quicken, excitement and hope visible in his eyes, "you wouldn't mind if we did it together, would you?"

       If his friends Johnny and Donghyuck were here, they'd definitely be cheering and slapping him on the back. It felt like he was asking her out, something he always dreamed of doing but never really having the guts to do so. Rejection was a scary thought, but as he watched the wide smile that spread onto (Y/N)’s face, he knew he had something to look forward to, even if through... this.

       "Of course! it'll be fun!" Score! "Too bad only one person can go though, I assume." She frowned.

       And for a second, Mark's hopes had shattered once again. But then he remembered something back at Cabbage's house, and maybe, just maybe, it wasn't over yet. "Actually, I think Cabbage mentioned making two watches." After confirming his calculations twenty-seven times. "Why don't we go together?"

       "Seriously? You wouldn't mind?" Oh, what Mark wouldn't given just to see that wide smile on (Y/N)’s face every single second of the day.

       And with a smile of his own, he nodded. "Of course not, noona."

       Love has always been a motivation for man, ever since the beginning of humans. And as time continued on and advanced, a variety of factors had been added to that list of motivation, such as money and power. But one constant above all was always going to be love - something that had always been interpersonal.

       So that was why Cabbage wasn't too particularly surprised to see Mark come back to his house later in the evening, this time, with a female companion. And judging by the look of awe on her face, it didn't take much for the scientist to connect the dots. "Mark, you came back!" Cabbage smiled down at the boy from the second floor of his basement lab. "With a friend this time?"

       "Right," Mark cleared his throat, gesturing to the scientist, "(Y/N), this is Cabbage as you already know, and Cabbage, this is (Y/N), my friend."

       "Hi! It's great to be here! Like, really great." (Y/N) was still enamoured by the many... things going on in the lab, though Mark couldn't blame her.

       "Anyway Mark, have you given my invention a thought?" Cabbage inquired, standing up from his seat by his computer and leaning against the railing. "I assume that's why you're here, after all."

       Mark nodded. "I have." He confirmed, biting down on his lip. "And I'll do it."

       "You will?" The scientist's eyes widened, grin spreading on his face. "That's great!"

       "But," Mark began, gaze falling over onto (Y/N) for a short second before back onto the scientist, "with conditions."

       "Conditions?" Cabbage raised an eyebrow, pleasantly intrigued.

       "Conditions!" (Y/N) suddenly spoke up with a grin, earning a look from the two. "Sorry, it just felt kind of intense so I wanted to ease tensions a bit." She coughed, glancing back and forth between the two. "Please, continue." She urged.

       "A-Anyway yes, conditions." Mark cleared his throat before turning to the scientist once more. "I want (Y/N) to come with me. You have two watches, don't you?"

       "I do." Cabbage nodded, fishing his hand into the pocket of his lab coat and bringing out two identical watches. "So far, they're the only two I have so I need to make sure that your friend will be extra careful with this."

       "She will." Mark reassured without any hesitation. "I know she will, because she's (Y/N)." A man who was claiming everybody's hearts left and right - except for (Y/N)’s though, unfortunately.

       Cabbage looked as if he was pondering on the thought for a bit before eventually nodding and making his way down the stairs. "Well, if Mark is vouching for you, I guess it should be okay." Cabbage nodded before gesturing for the two to follow him to the back of the lab, where large screen rested on the wall and multiple smaller monitors on both it's sides, resting on a glass desk. Below it were multiple keyboards, a few touch pads here and there with clearly different functions. It was like something straight out of a sci-fi movie. "This is where I'll be monitoring and communicating with you two while you're in whatever time period you land in." He explained, gesturing to his set up.​​​​​​​

       "What about the watches?" (Y/N) asked.

       "I'm just getting to that." Cabbage nodded, reaching for the two watches once again. "Gather around, you two." He motioned for them to come closer. "It looks like a regular analog watch at first, but if you tap the clock face," he did what he had just said, the other two watching in awe as a small digital hologram had appeared in the air, just above the clock face, "it has information such as your battery life on the right hand corner, the date and time you're in, the option to video call me, and the option to switch time periods." He pointed out each detail on the hologram. "Now the problem with the switching time periods is that once you arrive somewhere, you're stuck there for, at a minimum, twenty-four hours before the voltage and particle energies recharge and allow you to travel elsewhere."

       "Wait, so you're staying we might be stuck in a different time for a whole day?" Mark asked, a bit of alarm evident in his voice.

       "Unfortunately, I haven't been able to find out the proper calculations to make the recharging process quicker but for the meantime... yes." The scientist sighed. "But hey, at least it's not twenty-five hours...?"

       "Cabbage!" Mark groaned, running his hand down his face.

       "I mean, twenty-four hours doesn't sound that bad." (Y/N) hummed. "I'd love to explore a different time period, really get to know what it was like!"

       "See, at least someone's optimistic." Cabbage sent a not-so-subtle look over at Mark. "But anyway, I actually have a quest for you two."

       "Ooh, a quest! I feel like I'm in a video game." (Y/N) giggled, and if it weren't for the fact that she was totally digging this right now, Mark would have just straight up left out of fear for his own safety.

       "Exactly!" Cabbage nodded eagerly. "Since you two will be going to different time periods, I want you to bring back a memento of some sort from each time period."

       "Anything specific?" Mark asked, wanting to make sure he was going into this with full details.

       "Yes, for the purpose of analytic purposes due to their high amount of energy." Cabbage turned to the two, a suddenly serious look on his face. "A meaningful item to at least one person you encounter."

​​​​​​​        The two waited for him to say more, but nope, all he did was stare back at them. Mark ended up being the first to speak up. "Hm, I think you're missing the part where you, oh I don't know, tell us what you mean by ‘meaningful item’??"

       "That will vary from person to person, Mark boy." Cabbage sighed, giving an empathetic pat on the boy's shoulder. "One person's 'meaningful item' might be a necklace that their mother gifted them, or maybe a letter from a lover for a soldier - everything in life is a variable anyway."

       "Wait, then how do we know something is a meaningful item?" (Y/N) asked.

​​​​​​​        "That's where this last function of the watches come in," Cabbage turned his attention back to the watches, "this icon," he pointed to one of the icons on the hologram screen that resembled a heart, "will allow you to scan a person once you've talked to them. This only works one person at a time though, and it does drain a lot of energy from the watch battery. It'll allow you to see particles coming from objects, like sparkles. The more vivid, bigger and brighter the particles, chances are that's your person's meaningful item. So be careful with who you choose to use it on - once you scan that person, you'll have to find their meaningful item before you can use it again. Not to mention that the longer it takes for you to find the meaningful item, the more energy it drains." He warned.

​​​​​​​        "Talk about ominous, gosh." Mark sighed, shaking his head. "I can't believe I'm doing this."

       "It'll be exciting though, Mark." (Y/N) glanced over at the boy beside her, a grin spreading on her face. "We're in this together, after all!"

       "Noona..." A shade of red coated Mark's cheeks as he stared down at her, eyes sparkling with adoration.

       "Ahem, and me too." Cabbage interrupted, "Just, I'll be back here handling everything."        

       "Yes, of course, because where would we be without you, Cabbage?" Mark sighed, feeling a bit salty over the scientist's interruption during his and (Y/N)’s "moment".

       "Love you too, Mark." Cabbage blew a kiss his way before handing a watch to Mark and (Y/N) each. "Are you two ready?"

       "Wait, we're doing this so soon?" Mark's eyes widened, staring down at the watch in his hands with a bit of fear.

       "Better sooner than later." Cabbage shrugged, helping attach the watch onto Mark's wrist and then to (Y/N)’s. "You guys will be fine, don't worry. I'm here, after all!"

       "So reassuring, Cabbage." Mark grumbled, about to protest over the quick timing and suddenness of all of this if not for the sudden feeling of warmth in one of his hands. He glanced down at said hand, eyes lingering on the smaller hand that had clasped his own. And as his eyes wandered up to the hand's owner, he swore she was going to be the death of him.

       "It'll be okay, Mark." (Y/N) squeezed his hand softly with a reassuring smile. "We're in this together." She repeated.

       "Right..." Mark trailed off before taking a deep breath and nodding. "Together." He then glanced over at the scientist. "We're ready, Cabbage."

       With an excited smile, the older man nodded before turning to his set up and taking a seat down in the chair. The sounds of his quick tapping against the keyboard keys had Mark worrying with every passing second, but as (Y/N) held his hand, he figured this wouldn't be a terrible way to die. "Adios, you two!" Cabbage called out before hitting one last button. Click!

       And as a bright and large flash of light illuminated within the lab, Mark knew it had begun, especially with the way his limbs practically burned and his consciousness struggling to stay intact.

       The things he'd do for love, huh?

[sweetestrequiems]

Wishing for the Normal

Summary: When Catherine Parr and Anne Boleyn go to Peaks for their open mic night to support Katherine Howard, the couple get pulled up by the young woman to sing a duet. With a giggle, she, and the three other ladies at their table cheer them on. Boleyn and Parr grab the microphones, and just hope for the best from this experience.

Character(s): Parrlyn (Anne Boleyn / Catherine Parr) Katherine Howard Jane Seymour / Catherine of Aragon (Catalina) / Anna of Cleves

A/N: Kit + Soho Cinders + Parrlyn = Ideas.

Moral of the story: don’t leave me alone to think. I will think and it will come out on paper. This is inspired by Soho Cinders’ most iconic number, “Wishing for the Normal.”  Because this takes place in the universe of Out of a Book, some of the references and places might not make sense. It will all be explained in due time. And you all can bet your little tails the whole song is written out.

This is also my apology to all of you who dealt with my total chaos earlier. I love all of you and I am so sorry you had to witness me being a huge nerd and evil gremlin.

Tag List: @bchcadcd | @watercolored-lemonade

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Thursday nights were for coffee, laughter, and open mic nights at Peaks Coffee Company.

It was a tradition, for the six ladies to go to Peaks whenever Katherine was back in town from classes. It happened to be the winter break, and the ladies were all excited to go out together. It was about 7 on the dot when the ladies got there. Catherine gently pulled on Anne’s arm, leading her to one of the cozy corners. Close enough that they could see Katherine perform whenever she decided to go up there, but far enough that the two could have a nice conversation. It was bliss for the two of them, as they thoroughly enjoyed each other’s company, even with other people around. “I always love coming here with you, Cathy,” Boleyn whispers, leaning on Parr and resting her head on Parr’s shoulder. “There’s just good memories with this place. I feel like such a saddo for saying that.”

“Don’t. And you’re no saddo! I agree, this place... it has very nice memories,” Parr chuckled. With a glance up, Parr noticed the other ladies approaching. Catalina set one of the mugs down in front of Parr, and another in front of Boleyn. Sitting up, Boleyn nodded as a thank you, a smile coming across the mellow face. Katherine sat right next to Parr, Jane was right in front of Katherine, Catalina was in front of Parr, and Cleves was in front Boleyn. “I swear, I wonder how I would live without you, Lina,” bringing the mug up to her lips, Cathy took a sip of her coffee. Catalina just shook her head, grinning. “You wouldn’t be alive at all. You would literally die from drinking nothing but coffee and not eating.”

Laughter came from Cleves and Seymour.

“Considering all she does is stay in her room, yeah. I don’t doubt it! Sie schläft auch nicht, oder?” Anna gave a cheeky smile, with Catherine’s face being so deadpan at the comment, she just chose to roll her eyes as a response. “I do sleep, thank you very much. It only takes me three hours to fall asleep because I spend two of those writing.” Catalina raised an eyebrow at the response, knowing Parr stayed up late at night unless she had to be up before 8 am. There was more laughter at the table.

“Sleeping is important,” Seymour nodded over at Katherine, “and this one could tell you all about it. You slept last night when you got home, right?” The youngest of the ladies nodded with sincerity. “Yeah! I stay up late sometimes with homework, Miss Parr. If I learned one thing about uni, it’s that balancing sleep and homework is difficult. So I definitely get why you stay up at night. I do the same thing,” Katherine allows her smile to shine, Parr letting out a bit of a laugh. “You’re not wrong. Balancing sleep and work is very difficult. Now, how long are you going to keep us waiting, star in hiding?”

That’s where the mischievous smirk came from Katherine Howard. “I’m not singing tonight, actually.”

The other five women stared at Katherine with wide eyes, in actual shock that the reason they normally came on Thursday nights was not the center of attention. Digging through the backpack she brought, the youngest of the group pulled out a binder, and handed it to Parr. A second one got pulled out, and was handed to Boleyn; the third she kept in front of her. “I’m showing off my piano skills tonight, and you two are going to sing for me while I play!”

The look on Anne Boleyn’s face was one of fear, and the one on Catherine Parr’s face was total embarrassment. The couple looked at each other, and gulped in unison. Boleyn had a blush running across her face, but more notably across her cheeks and nose. “I... Sing? You want us to sing?”

“Why not?”

Parr felt her face lose color. “I... we’re not singers, Katherine.” This was the instance where Parr reached for the coffee and began to down it like water on a hot day. Catalina raised an eyebrow, with a more confused look this time. Anna however, began to actually laugh. She knew that habit of hers all too well. Jane was looking at Katherine with furrowed eyebrows, but her face was full of confusion, much like Catalina’s. Sucking in a nervous breath, Parr stood up, setting the mug down. “Okay, Katherine. I’ll sing.”

Anne Boleyn let out a shaky sigh, but she nodded and also stood up. “I’ll do it too. What are we singing, Kat?”

Standing up, Katherine took her binder and opened it up, skipping to the keyboard up on the stage. She sat down on the chair, setting up with a little too much excitement. All she did was let her right hand play the first few measures of the song. “Wishing for the Normal from Soho Cinders! I’m sure you’ve both heard of it. You’re both English, right?” A rather awkward moment of silence, before the two women nodded. “This will be fun, come on!”

If there was one thing Katherine loved about majoring in music, it was the fact she got to play piano. She loved it. And just to make Anne and Catherine feel comfortable, she slowed down the beginning.

Raising the microphone up to be near her lips, Anne hid the nervousness with a smile. “Just imagine pouring your cornflakes, looking up and someone's there. Someone you have just spent the night with, someone’s life you're proud to share! Haven't put my face on, haven’t done my hair. Haven't had to worry, as it’s her standing there.”

The piano began to pick up a little pace. Catherine was going to match it, with a similar smile to Anne’s. “Just imagine out on the dance floor, turning ‘round and there she is. It's your lady, the one you came in with, three years on, your hand in hers. Living in a semi, maybe have a cat. Nothing that's too fancy, tell me what's wrong with that?”

Looking up from the music for a brief moment, Katherine Howard began to smile.

The couple looks at each other, the nervous smiles seeming to grow into genuine ones. The two nodded, knowing they had to sing on together. “Wishing for the normal kind of dream. Nothing too excessive or extreme. Hoping for the hum-drum, is that aiming high? Others seem to find it, tell me why on earth can't I?”

Catalina’s jaw could honestly hit the floor with how impressed she was. Anna just had a wide-eye expression that screamed her shock for her. Jane was thoroughly impressed by all of this, but mostly by Katherine’s piano playing ability. 

“Wishing for the normal kind of dream. Trouble is they're harder than they seem. Am I too ambitious? Am I out of touch? Am I wishing for too much?”

Frantically flipping the pages, both ladies chuckled while the piano kept on going behind them. Lucky Parr, she got to start off this time. “Just imagine cooking lasagna, like those adverts on TV.” And the biggest smile came out of Boleyn with this line. She just felt all warm and fuzzy from the fact she was spending time with her girlfriend. “Sitting on a fake leather sofa, babies bouncing on my knee.”

“Living within reason, loving when I can. Feeling I am someone, not some sad old lass.”

Almost instinctively, as if she knew Katherine would start playing softer, Anne made her voice softer. She could only hope Catherine would follow. The other three at the table began to smile, quietly cheering them on from their spot. “Just imagine mowing the lawn.”

And the hopes came true, because Parr did soften up her voice. “Just imagine popping some corn.”

Even Katherine Howard herself was cheering them on from the piano. She wanted to laugh, but really couldn’t, so... she did what she does best. Giggle it out.

Boleyn’s free hand reaches down for Parr’s, with the two allowing their fingers to interlock. The look on her face said it all, she was smitten by this woman in front of her. “Just imagine breakfast in bed.” “Just imagine owning a shed,” Parr let out a chuckle right after the lyrical line. She was not one to sing, but this was an exception she was happy to have made. Memories were all she wanted, and memories was what she was getting.

“Just imagine doing the school run.”

“Going for picnics.”

“Keeping a goldfish!”

A laugh from the two. They nodded again, allowing themselves to sing right on through to the end. “Wishing, wishing! Hoping for the hum-drum, is that aiming high? Others seem to find it, tell me why, why, why can’t I? Wishing for the normal kind of dream. Trouble is they’re harder than they seem.”

At this point, the table was standing up. Catalina was nodding along with Anna, but Jane? Jane was already clapping. “Go ladies!” The blonde woman giggled, happy to see some of her now closest friends so happy with each other.

“Going to a nightclub, cinemas and such,” Boleyn’s eyes finally met Parr’s. “Eating in a restaurant, happy to go dutch,” the smile on Parr’s face grew from seeing Boleyn’s smile grow as well. 

“Am I too ambitious? Am I out of touch? Am I wishing far too much?” And while the two lovebirds stared at each other, their young pianist allowed herself to continue the instrumental, even playing the accompaniment to the last few lyrics they had forgotten. Laughing, Katherine Howard stood up and started clapping. “You two sounded amazing!”

“Go Cathy!” “Way to go Anne!” “I’m proud of you, Kitty!”

The couple just kept looking at each other, with laughs eventually coming from them both. As much nerves as they had to fight, they loved every second of it. Being just a smidge taller, Catherine Parr leaned downwards to peck Anne Boleyn’s lips, but little was she expecting for Anne to actually stand on the tips of her toes to meet her halfway. “You sly little rascal you!”

“You love me.” Anne set the microphone back on the stand, before grabbing the binder off of the stand and walking herself back to the table. Parr just laughed, repeating all of Anne’s actions before sitting down next to her. Katherine Howard, however, remained on the stage and allowed herself to continue to play whatever came to her mind. For the duration of however long they would stay, there would be a newfound sort of joy in the ladies, and the soft lullaby of a piano in the background.