#also today has been stupid busy and i’m so fucking burnt out and tired

[princehatterene]

of course a famous former nhl player comes into work BEFORE i make it in

[asachuu]

Definitely not rigged one-note voting won. Everything below the cut has been written a week ago or so, and I do not care if it sounds “edgy”, I’m still not in the mood to sanitize this, because I’m definitely not the first person to say anything like this.

Content warning, mentions of suicide.

Before anything, I’ll say this upfront, if you want to know why this’ll sound so angry and way more personal than I’d ever be comfortable with online, this is all written from the POV of someone who would likely be considered disabled by today’s work-related standards, yet currently unable to get official confirmation, and someone who’s watching the well-being of everyone around them go to shit every passing day.

Anyway, I’m so fucking tired of this “everyone does [x] so just get over it” mentality. I’ve just had several consecutive arguments in a row about work, my mental and physical state because of it, plus the mental states of my acquaintances in it, and I wouldn’t wish this type of stupid argument even on my worst enemy. To some, this will all sound exactly like the words of someone who hasn’t stopped being extremely naive, lazy and stupid to believe that complaining about the world order will ever do anything, and to others, it’ll be as obvious as saying the sky is blue, and whichever you are is frankly none of my business, because I’m not here to compromise my stance for anyone.

Putting it simply, I don’t think people as a whole were made to work, and I’m not saying this because I’ve tried to end my life several times just this year thanks to it, I’m saying this because even my coworkers, who don’t have the same struggles, disorders and issues as I do and are the people who’d typically “get over it” and be considered “normal”, are also struggling. I see these people every day, and the two closest ones to me are this one woman who’s endlessly tired and keeps talking about death being the better option for us all, and the other is a guy who eternally complains about conditions and claims he doesn’t have time for anything going on anymore with his personal life nor work life, even though he’s always been quite neutral on showing up and doing his duties until now. Those two aside, I’ve overheard conversations— more and more as time goes on, and a fuck load these days— of people saying they aren’t even capable of focusing for more than one minute any longer, they’re burnt out, unable to do anything, they’re not even registering words spoken to them, they’re extremely tired, no longer sleeping more than 2 hours at times, and I’ve heard even the most adjusted, non-serious of people wish to meet their ends. And this is the norm, “especially” for our type of workplace I have to keep private— nevertheless an extremely common one the vast majority of the population tends to at least once in their life, over 75% where I’m from— this is what everyone supposedly goes through and everyone gets over it.

I am oh so fucking sorry, but I don’t think any of us are supposed to “accept it and move on”. Just because the majority of the population is not actively suicidal or self-destructive doesn’t mean they don’t deserve any breaks, leniency, or just basic compassion and understanding that clearly, if EVERYONE can agree on the fact that people hate this— even someone’s 65 year-old conservative grandfather who screams day and night about the younger generations being lazy as fuck— then there’s just a basic fact of the matter that humans were not supposed to be put into a position where they have to downright endure the mere act of living for some simple joys they can only dream of and hope to achieve in years upon years, and believe it or not, this is the reality for so, so many out there.

I cannot tell you how utterly disgusted I feel knowing that half the people at my work are falling asleep from stress and fatigue, often shouted at to wake up and be active since seven in the fucking morning, and so many of us are addicted to either caffeine, ““legal substances”” or both by now, but there is no leniency for us or our total physical exhaustion (because Heaven forbid the mental one be considered by societal standards)— there’s just a vending machine selling energy drinks and a coffee maker, and that’s not exclusive to our workplace, that’s just the universal “solution” worldwide, apparently. I don’t mean to pull out the word “society” like the most edgy of people, but the fact that this society is built on forcing people to work and their only break or assistance being encouraged legal drugs— mostly caffeine as the most normalized one, but if you want to have fun after work, you can go to a bar and have some drinks, because you’re not exactly supposed to have any time left for some kind of complex hobbies when they don’t bring money nor make you productive— is almost frustrating, if it wasn’t so overshadowed by miserable people who just can’t seem to get up and, at the very fucking least, admit that this isn’t right.

Seriously, personal anecdote here, I come to my house that feels like a hotel shared with insufferable idiots more than anything, I dare to outwardly seem out of energy after my 9, sometimes 10 hour job plus two hour transport, and all I get is either verbal abuse or getting told it “works like this”, and I know damn well I’m not the only one out of everyone I know who can’t afford anything else. I don’t care that “the world works like this”, it might, but if everyone’s burnt out, falling asleep, dreaming of not having to work, having no time for themselves and constantly just “making it to Friday”, and that’s a thing uniting nearly everyone on Earth, I’m sick of hearing it’s normal, so we have to get over it. Who told you that, and why the fuck are you parroting it when even you yourself feel like shit?

And I’m not asking anyone to start a revolution or anything, I’m asking every goddamn person who’s unhappy with this life, with the way it works, with the fact that everyone is forced to get a job only to hope to have a fucking home, food, water, healthcare and basic human needs met regardless of whether their life becomes completely meaningless and grey, just existing to make it to the weekend every single time, to stop telling everyone to get over it. Nobody should, neither should you, and maybe, if enough of us stop being so fucking passive and taking this endless amount of burnout, pressure, stress and complete dullness because “it’s just the way things are for everyone”, someday, something will change, or at the very least, more lives will be spared, because believe me— if I’m lucky, maybe I’ll make it out alive, but regardless of whether I get to find peace and escape this or I’ll be sleeping in a coffin in less than two years’ time, it’s not like I’ll be the only one out of millions of people who downright can’t work— maybe not so much, maybe not at all— winding up hurt or dead when there isn’t a soul to share their feelings, let alone respect or understand them without telling them to just suck it up and go back to being miserable like everyone else, even insisting there’s something wrong with them for not being able to continue like this.

It’s important of me to add that I also acknowledge the fact that there are many people who want to work or enjoy their duties, yet the ones I know of— the same ones who keep drilling into my head that me and everyone who’s able to relate to me are the mentally sick ones who need to be fixed, may I add— openly wish they didn’t have to, and I’d like to make it clear that that’s exactly what I’d strive for, being literally anyone— people would still work, many love their jobs and many would love to have extra money on hand, but they don’t have a choice or say in it as everything stands now, and it’s not that any of us can just take a month off for the sake of our health and well-being when our entire livelihood is at stake. For fucks sake, even if you “enjoy” something, everyone needs to rest, and some people need way, way more than two days per week, maybe weeks, maybe months, maybe years, but we as a world have deemed that “laziness” and a “mental problem”, for some fucking reason.

Besides, I can’t tell you how many times while growing up I’ve heard to get myself a job I’ll enjoy, a job that “won’t feel like a job”, and I just can’t explain to those people that it’ll always feel like a fucking job, even they themselves usually complain about their “great jobs they like”, because there’s absolutely no choice when everything you need to just keep breathing is on the line, and god forbid you hit a rough patch or experience burnout, let alone stand in my position, where you simply are not capable of handling these responsibilities at all partially for actual medical reasons, but almost every institution is dead set on making you into an obeying, working citizen. I’m very well aware that if I type any of the above, someone’s going to come up running to me yet again, dismissing absolutely everything because “but how would YOU fix it all, then—”, and while I have absolutely no clue as I am not an omnipresent, omnipotent being who knows the solution to something as insanely complex as this (nor who’d actually make any difference anyway), maybe, just maybe, we could start some kind of train of thought there instead of biting the bullet, shrugging and going back to our 9-5s or other forms of mandatory work while complaining about how much we hate them, how stressed and tired we are and can’t wait for the weekend.

For fucks sake, our lives aren’t just worth so much more than waiting for 48 hours of some personal freedom before starting an endless cycle all over again and living this half-existence we all complain about before being forced to accept it by other people who complain about it just as much— they’re also worth so much more than having to constantly be centered around work, finding a job, getting hired, getting money, and so on, and so on. There’s so much more out there, but barely anyone gets to have the opportunity to see it, especially not people for whom money is a struggle, and there’s just not enough of those who find any worth in merely keeping this thought alive while being stuck living “normally” while wishing they didn’t have to, or thinking it’s not right either.

Anyway, I could write more, but for the sake of protecting the rest of my privacy, I won’t. I dearly hope this resonates with at least someone out there across the world, because I know for a fact that there are many people who don’t suffer or struggle with anything I do sharing this sentiment. I’m going back to being some fandom account again now, or whenever my burnout leaves me be for one single day, but I need this out there for whoever stumbles upon it, maybe today, tomorrow, or in a decade.

[221castiel]

If You Love Me, Don’t Let Go

Read it on AO3 Here!

She was two years old when her "dad" Dean Winchester had been sentenced to twenty five years in prison.

Now, fifteen years later, he's being released early and Claire's only sure of one thing; she doesn't want him back.

Everything seemed to fall back into place the moment he’d stepped through the front door. His chair in the morning was used as if it had never been empty, his coats hung on the hangers alongside their own and his car soon found its place in their driveway as if it had always parked there. It was like he’d never left, or at least that’s how Claire should have felt, but sitting at the kitchen table watching as Dean made breakfast felt wrong. Not comforting and definitely not familiar.

Everything about the situation was wrong, stiff, awkward, forced. Yet no one else seemed to notice or maybe they just didn’t care, as Cas leant against the kitchen counter watching his boyfriend cook and Jack sat at the other end of the kitchen table flipping through a comic book like the dork he was.

Dean himself stood at their stove saying something to Cas as he made them pancakes. He wore a pair of grey sweat pants and nothing else, letting Claire stare at the burn that covers the majority of his upper back. The burnt skin continued along his right shoulder, and down his right arm just stopping above his elbow. It was an older burn, the skin wrinkled and brighter than the rest of his pale skin, keeping Claire’s attention no matter how many times she tried to look away.

She could ask about it.

Was it part of the reason he’d gone to jail? Did he get it at jail? Were there more? All bitchy questions, but it wasn’t like Claire was above being an occasional bitch.

She opened her mouth, though before she could get the words out Dean was turning her way and her gaze quickly dropped to the plate in front of her. The sounds of footsteps came then from the corner of her eye Claire watched as Dean set a tray of pancakes onto the table.

“Still like blueberry pancakes?” Dean asked as he took the seat on her right, and her dad took the one to her left. Which was incredibly wrong, Cas had always sat on her right, but it wasn’t like Dean cared about what they normally did.

She looked up, meeting his gaze. Dean had a smile across his face, one that wasn’t completely easy, more cautious as if he was trying to bargain for her trust.

“No,” Claire replied, hoping he could hear the annoyance in her tone. “Not since I was five.”

“Well I do!” Jack cut in. Dean’s features dropped for a second, in maybe even defeat before he was once again smiling and had turned his head to talk to jack.

Leave it to her brother to try to play peacekeeper, even though just last week they’d both agreed they weren’t happy about Dean returning.

Fucking traiter.

She gave her brother a quick glare before pushing her chair back with a more than satisfying screech, and walked across the kitchen to grab cereal. The conversations continued on behind her as she grabbed a bowl and filled it with milk and cereal, a blur of words that she didn’t really care about or want to hear.

It was too early for conversations, especially with a stranger that she was supposed to just pretend was part of her family. She preferred when it was just her and Jack in the morning, Cas working one of the hospitals morning shifts or still asleep after a late shift. When it was quiet, and more important when it was without Dean.

She grabbed a spoon and shoved a mouth full of cheerios into her mouth before she went back to her spot at the table.

“Claire,” Cas said as she sat down. She hummed in response. “Dean has offered to give you a ride to school today.”

She glanced to Dean before looking back to her dad. “I’m fine taking the bus,” Claire said, “I’m sure he’s busy.”

“He offered.”

“I like the bus.” She liked walking the forty minutes if it meant not sitting in a car with Dean.

“I can give you a ride,” Dean insisted. Clenching her teeth Claire glared at the other man, “it isn’t that big of a deal, I’ve gotta stop at the courthouse anyway,” he continued.

“Schools in the other direction,” Claire argued through clenched teeth. Dean’s gaze darted to Cas as if looking for some kind of helping and Claire couldn't help but be proud of herself. Causing Dean to be speechless, to lose his easy smile for not once but the second time that morning.

“I have a math test today!” Jack suddenly declared, causing everyone to look over. Claire rolled her eyes before looking back to her bowl of cereal and poking at the cheerios floating in the milk.

“Shit” Dean hummed through a mouthful of food, because apparently eating with your mouth closed was too hard of a concept “that sucks.”

“I like math.”

Dean raised an eyebrow looking to Cas, “what the hell did you do to him.”

Claire’s grip around her spoon tightened. Other than actually raise him, and work every hour the hospital offered him to pay the bills, and make sure they were both happy and nopt fukcing leave. The list of things her dad did was endless.

“Math’s interesting,” Jack insisted. “As long as you do it right the numbers just work!”

“And what about you?” Dean asked, Claire raising her eyebrow as he looked towards her, “got any weird interests?”

Claire pressed her lips together. How long would it take for him to realize that she didn’t want to talk, or that she didn’t even like him. A week? A month? She didn’t think she could handle another hour of his constant talking.

“We should get ready,” Claire said, looking back to Jack, “or we’ll miss the bus.”

Without waiting for an answer Claire stood grabbing her bowl and carrying it to the sink, the sound of Jack’s chair filling the silent kitchen. She then walked quickly to the kitchen door only stopping at the sound of Cas’ voice.

“Claire, are you sure you wouldn’t like a ride?”

Chewing at her lip Claire looked back meeting her dad's gaze. His expression sat emotionless, though Claire could hear in his tone how much he wanted her to take it. He wanted her to pretend as if the first fifteen years of her life didn’t happen, as if they were a family, as if Dean hadn’t left them.

Maybe Cas could forgive him, but she couldn’t.

“Yah,” Claire replied, biting her lip harder as Cas’s expression dropped just for a second. “Thanks though.”

She turned away not waiting for a response and instead walked into the hallway Jack on her heels. “I wanted a ride,” he mumbled as they turned up the staircases, and Claire rolled her eyes. Of course he wanted a ride, he also wanted them all to be happy and be a family and sing songs or some kind of buillshit like that.

“Stop whining,” Claire mumbled, “the bus won’t kill you.”

Dean must be deaf, or stupid, because despite every argument she’d made over breakfast he’s waiting for her at the end of the school today. The impala unmistakable in the row of other parents' cars with Dean sat in the drivers seat waving her over.

Maybe she could get hit on her way.

She isn’t so lucky and manages to walk to the passenger door without any fatal injuries. She pulled it open with as much force as she could muster before slamming it shut with a satisfying noise, hopefully causing some kind of damage. A small dent or even a scratch, anything to mess up the untouched paint.

“Coffee,” Dean offered as Claire turned to grab her seatbelt.

She glanced at the to go cup in his hand then to his face, that easy, incredibly punch smile still across his lips. Was giving up so hard, could he not just be thankful that Jack liked him (not like that was hard).

Pressing her lips together she looked down to the seatbelt and buckled it into place. “I don’t like coffee.”

Tuesday was the same. The impala was parked in the row of parents, as if he was their parent, and when Claire sat down into the passenger seat Dean offered her another to go cup. Hot chocolate, he said, and with the same clipped tone Claire mumbled an ‘I don’t like hot chocolate.’

Wednesday he offered tea, and on Thursday Claire knew he must have talked to Cas. When she took her spot in the passenger seat she immediately recognized the blue to go cup from her favourite coffee shop -a coffee shop twenty minutes past the school-

“Caffe Mocha with almond milk”, Dean said as he offered her the drink.

Claire clenched her jaw, twisting her body to look out the passenger window. There was nothing to look at there, only the school's parking lot but anything was better than Dean. “I’m fine.”

On Friday when Claire stepped out of the high school the impala was nowhere in sight.

No matter what her feelings were towards Dean it was impossible to ignore just how much Cas loved him. Long lasting looks that left Claire rolling her eyes, quick kisses, always touching in some way or another. He smiled constantly, and it was hard to even imagine that this Cas was the same dad she’d grown up with. Always optimistic, always loving but tired from work and raising kids. Worn down from life.

Why hadn’t Dean seen that Castiel?

Why couldn’t Dean have seen all the pain he’d caused?

Claire’s grip around her pencil tightened, jaw tense as she grinded her teeth together. It was all she seemed to do the past week, clench her jaw push down the bubbling frustration, hope that Dean would just fucking understand that he wasn’t fucking wanted.

She forced a breath through her nose glaring down to her math homework before she looked out their living room window. The neighborhood was quiet for a Saturday morning, not a person in sight other than Dean and Cas, who were out cleaning the impala. Both drenched head to toe, covered in bubbles, but smiling, laughing as in between spraying the car they’d spray one another.

Happy. Castiel was so incredibly happy, and it only made everything more frustrating.

After glaring at the two men Claire looked back to her homework, scratching her pencil across the page in dark lines that only partially satisfied her frustrations. It was better than nothing.

She worked slowly down the page, keeping her head down as she solved each equation until the sound of the front door opening broke the silence and she looked up.

“Having fun?” Claire asked as Cas, still dripping wet, stepped into the living room.

Cas smiled, “I am.”

Well that made one of them.

Claire looked back down to her homework, clenching her jaw as her gaze wandered across the page. None of it made sense, of course none of it made sense it was math, but it was still better than looking at her dad. At her genuinely happy dad, who was happy because of Dean.

The sound of Cas’s footsteps came, then paused. “Somethings wrong?” He said.

“No,” Claire mumbled.

“Did something happen at school?”

“No,” she insisted, “I’m fine.”

She shoved her pencils back into their case, then closed her binder before pushing the desk chair back in a loud screech that definitely scratched the wood floors. She’d apologize for that later, for now she needed to be away. Away from Cas, and away from fucking Dean. Away from the pretend.

They weren’t a family.

Families didn’t fucking leave each other.

“Claire,” Cas whispered as she walked past him, stopping her in her tracks. “You’re able to talk to me.”

“But I’m not,” she snapped, turning towards him. “You chose him, after everything that fucking happened, after everything that he fucking did, you still chose him,” the bubble of emotion burst through her chest as her words became more frantic, fists clenched at her sides. “Why aren’t you angry at him?”

Cas tilted his head, his gaze holding Claire’s, filled with so much concern it made her sick. “You want me to be angry at Dean?”

“You should be!” Claire cried. Was it that crazy of a concept? “He left you with two kids, he left you and you're just letting him back into our life!”

“Claire,” Cas said so gently it made Claire want to scream. He stepped closer and she stepped back, keeping the same space between them despite the pained look that crossed her dad's face. “Dean- he didn’t want to leave, I understand-“

“No you don’t understand shit,” Claire spat, “he knew he had a family, he knew that,” her voice shook, and she inhaled sharply, “and he still- you just let him come back, after everything.”

“It wasn’t his choice.”

“Yes it was!” Claire screamed, “you don’t just get arrested, you did shitty things and be a shitty person, and-“ She clenched her jaw, holding her dad’s gaze. “Why are you choosing his side?”

“There are no sides,” Cas replied slowly, “and Dean, he isn’t a bad person”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Claire mumbled.

Cas pressed his lips together, eyebrows furrowing as Claire stared back. They’re was more she wanted to say, a mix of insults and swears that she’d been holding back over the week yet they stayed stuck on her lips. Her voice was suddenly gone as Cas stared at her, not carrying to hide the hurt that was clear across his face, and yah Claire knew it was her who caused it. Her words. Her actions. Her feelings, but it was Dean who’d caused all that.

Why couldn’t her dad see that?

“I’m going to my room,” Claire finally mumbled.

She turned away, no longer able to hold her dad’s gaze and instead walked out of the living room, ignoring Cas as he called for her to wait. Her footsteps were heavy as she stomped up the staircase, and she made sure to slam her door before she fell across her bed and squeezed her eyes shut.

A knock came though she didn’t move instead choking down a breath as another soon followed.

“Claire?” Cas asked softly, voice muffled through the door. “Could we please talk?”

Claire buried her face into her pillow, forcing another breath. No, they couldn’t, not now, after all the anger had faded leaving a throbbing pain in her chest.

She knew how the conversation would go, exactly the same as every other time. Cas would swear Dean was a good person, Claire would try not roll her eyes and agree to make her dad happy, then they’d pretend they were a happy family until she couldn’t handle it again.

She couldn’t do it.

Not after years of being alone.

At the sound of Cas’s disappearing footsteps Claire opened her eyes staring quietly at the photo on her bedside table. It was of the four of them Cas holding Jack who was only a few months old while she herself at only two was sat on Dean's shoulders with a wide smile across her face.

She’d always hated that photo, yet had never had the heart to replace it.

Now she wished she had.

She isn’t sure whether Cas told Dean or not about their fight, and she wasn’t sure which she prefered, but when she finally leaves her room that night for dinner, nothing seems to change. Dean still attempts to coax conversation out of her while Jack plays moderatore, making sure nothing becomes too tense. Even at the end of the night when it’s only her and her dad left doing the dishes Cas doesn't mention anything.

Sunday is the same, and when Monday comes they fall back into the same annoying routine of Dean picking them up, trying to win Claire over with drinks and baking. He really seemed to think she was that easy, that she’d let things slide like the rest of her family.

By Thursday Claire had enough of the awkward car rides, and at the end of the day found Jack outside of his locker and dragged him out the back entrance, rather than the front.

“Claire!” Jack cried as she dragged him across the teachers parking lot by his wrist. His footsteps were uneven trying to keep up with her long strides and his backpack dangled from her one shoulder yet Claire didn’t stop. She needed to put as much distance as she could between her and that stupid impala, she couldn’t spend another second listening to blaring music or he rattling of the air conditioning.

“Claire!” Jack insisted. “Please! Stop!” He gave a harsh tug pulling his wrist from Claire’s grip and causing her to stop and turn around meeting her brother’s glare. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Claire snapped, clenching her jaw. “I- just- I thought we could see grandpa.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, and yah Claire knew it wasn’t the best lie but Jack was gullible and like hell she’d tell him the truth. He'd just be pissed that she was tearing their family apart, or some dramatic statement like that.

“You want to go see grandpa?” Jack repeated and Claire nodded. “Dean could drive us.”

“Why? Your legs don’t work?”

“They work!”

“Then you can walk”

Jack gave her a glare but followed her as they walked across the parking lot and onto the sidewalk. They walked shoulder to shoulder, a silence hanging around them as they made their way down the familiar neighborhood, past the houses Claire had long ago memorized and to Chuck’s.

“Claire?” Jack asked, as they turned off the street and into an alley. “Is everything okay?”

At the softness in his voice Claire glanced to her brother, meeting his gaze for a second before she’d looked forward again. “I’m fine,” she replied, clenching her jaw.

“Are you sure?”

Could Jack not take a hint? She didn’t want to talk about it. “Yes.”

“You don’t seem okay.”

He really couldn’t take a hint.

Claire forced a breath through her nose, glaring at the parked car ahead of them, as if it would solve her problems. It was either that or Jack. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know,” Jack replied, “you’ve just been kind of…”

“A bitch?”

“I was going to say a jerk,” Jack whispered, “but yah.”

She scrunched her nose looking down to her sneakers before looking back to the car ahead of them. “I don’t like Dean,” she finally said, the words sounding even harsher than they had in her head.

Jack frowned, looking to her, though she kept looking forward. “Why not?”

Claire shrugged. “He left us, he hurt dad, and I just-“ she took a slow breath. The words weren’t sassy to say, there were too many thoughts, too many reasons, and too many of them she wasn’t willing to say out loud.

He left Jack.

He left Cas

He left her.

And she was terrified he’d do it again.

“I don’t think he should just get to walk back into our lives as if nothing happened,” Claire finally said.

“I think you should give him a chance,” Jack replied softly, a comment Claire decided to ignore and instead look back to her feet, letting the silence once again fall between them. It thankfully stayed that way for the rest of the walk, until they reached Chuck’s house and made their way up the back porch.

They were greeted with a wide smile and a tight hug each that Claire may have held onto a bit longer than normal, before Chuck offered tea and they both accepted. They then made they’re way into the living where Jack took a seat on the one couch while Claire remained standing instead studying the photos that lined the fireplace.

Most were of their family, her aunts and uncles with her cousins though it’s the center one that she stared at. One at her aunt Anna’s wedding maybe twenty or so years ago. It was of all her aunt’s uncles at the beach, arms slung over one another’s shoulders with Anna and her husband standing in the center. At one end Dean and Cas stood together, younger but definitely them, Cas laughing at something someone had said, well Dean grinned at Cas.

Even in photos it was impossible to ignore how much he loved her dad.

“And how are my favourite grandkids?” Chuck hummed his footsteps filling the silent room followed but the sound of cups being placed onto the table. The sound of her grandfather sitting down came though Claire didn’t turn instead continuing to study the photo.

“I’m good,” Jack said as the sound of the teapot being poured came, “soccer starts next week, and I’m doing this really cool project in socials class where we get to plan a city.”

“And what about you Claire?”

She shrugged, “I’m fine.”

When no one continued speaking she turned around, just getting a glimpse of the questioning look her grandpa gave Jack. “Claire is uh-“ Jack began causing Claire to glare at him. God help her brother if he decided to keep speaking, “her and Dean aren’t getting along.” She was going to kill him.

Chuck stopped pouring the tea, his gaze immediately looking up. “Dean’s been released,” he said in a clipped tone, placing the teapot back down before he picked up his own cup. “I forgot that was happening.”

Claire pressed her lips together, her gaze darting over her grandfather's features which sat in an unreadable expression, though definitely not a pleased one. “You don’t like him?” She finally decided.

“I-“ Chuck looked down to his cup, seeming unable to decide whether he should tell the truth or not. God Claire hoped he would. “I’ve never been fond of him,” Chuck finally said.

“Why?”

“Growing up he had… problems, getting into fights, skipping school, stealing, he was always looking for attention,” Chuck said. He brought the cup to his lips, taking a small sip before continuing. “I didn’t want Castiel around that, he was a nice kid and too trusting for his own good, but your father is incredibly stubborn and wouldn’t listen to me. I don’t know how many times I’d found Dean climbing through his bedroom window.”

Claire pressed her lips together, waiting for Chuck to say more as he leant forward and grabbed the spoon from the sugar bowl. Each movement was far too slow, getting a small spoonful of sugar, pouring it into his cup, stirring it in, testing the drink, then adding more.

“I’d assumed,” Chuck finally continued leaning back into the couch, “after the most recent arrest Castiel would come to his senses but-“ he shrugged, “here we are.”

“Most recent arrest?” Claire asked.

Chuck hummed, “there are a handful of times when he was a teenager, and I believe three or four as an adult.”

Electricity seemed to buzz under her skin, the information blurring together. It was more than she’d ever heard about Dean from anyone. She’d learned from a young age not to talk to her father about him, it only ever made Cas sad, and even when he was willing to talk about a Dean it was rarely ever much more than how much Dean loved them. It was certainly never about his arrest, or apprenalty multiple arrests.

It was addicting. She wanted to know more, here everything her father had refused to tell her. Everything that confirmed her suspicions. Dean shouldn’t be released, he shouldn’t be in their house, and he definitely shouldn’t be pretending to be a part of their family.

Claire took a seat next to Jack, continuing to stare at her grandfather who sat on the couch across from them. “Do you know why he got arrested?”

“Claire,” Jack whispered, voice uncertain, though she only ignored him.

“Your father never told me the full story,” Chuck replied, “I believe a fight may have been part of it, though anything is possible.”

Claire pressed her lips together. She had more questions, endless questions though they’d all become a blur, unsure which ones were more important than others, or which ones Chuck would refuse to answer.

Her lips parted and Jack shifted, “please stop,” he whispered.

“What did dad say about it?”

Chuck lowered his cup though before he could reply Jack stood and without a word walked out of the room.

The walk home is quiet, Jack always a few steps ahead refusing to look at her, and maybe she should care but she didn’t. Hell she was thankful for the space for the silence that allowed her to replay everything Chuck had told her. She’d been right, or at least the unease she’d felt around Dean was right.

There was a reason she couldn’t trust him.

So why couldn’t her dad see that?

When they get home still without a word Jack goes to his room, leaving Claire to quietly walk through the house and into the kitchen. She opened the kitchen cupboard looking for something to eat until the sound of footsteps came causing her to to turn her head as Dean walked into the kitchen.

“Hey,” he greeted offering a smile that she didn’t return.

“Hey,” Claire replied. She didn’t move as Dean opened the fridge and took out a beer. “Do you know where dad is?”

“Hospital called,” he replied, “he’ll be working till seven.” Claire grit her teeth as Dean took a seat at the kitchen, propping his feet onto the other chair. Every action had been so casual, as if he’d been living in the house for years rather than two weeks.

“What about you?” Dean asked, twisting the cap off his bottle, Claire only raised an eyebrow. “Where were you and the kid at?”

“Our Grandpas,” she replied in a clipped tone.

Dean frowned, causing Claire to clench her fists. “Chucks?” He asked as if it was the craziest thing in the world.

“Yah,” Claire replied, “is there a problem with that?”

“No, just never pictured him as a number one grandpa,” Dean shrugged, “I always saw him as more of a grandpa joe type.”

Claire clenched her jaw, teeth grinding together as she looked back to the open cupboard. “Well at least he helped raise me,” she muttered.

“What.”

She turned around meeting Dean’s gaze, every inch of her skin alive with energy, emotion bubbling through her chest as she clenched her fists tighter. “I said,” she began voice harsh, and slow, “atleast he helped fucking raise me.”

Dean’s eyes widened and Claire didn’t look away, holding his gaze with her jaw clenched and chin tilted up. She hoped it hurt. She wanted it to hurt so bad.

Claire sucked in a harsh breath, and before Dean could reply she walked out of the kitchen with long strides. Her eyes burned as she wiped at them, the pain once again settling in her chest as she rushed up the staircase and into her room.

Much to her relief, Dean never followed

She doesn’t come out of her room for dinner, or when her dad comes home, or when her phone dies and the charger’s still in Jack’s room from when he’d stolen it the day before. She can’t see Dean, especially not with Cas around, and so it isn’t until eleven when she’s sure everyone will be at least in their rooms that she slides out of her own quietly walking the hallway she’s stopped by the sound of Dean and Cas’s voice.

“I just- there’s nothing I can do,” Dean said, his voice getting louder the closer Claire got to their bedroom. The door was just cracked open letting a sliver of light fall through and for Claire to see them, Dean sat on the edge of their bed while Cas stood between his legs still dressed in his nursing scrubs. “She doesn’t want me around.”

Cas tilted his head.. “Why would you think that?”

“Have you been paying attention?” For once Claire had to agree with him.

Cas sighed, “Claire is stubborn.” He raised a hand lacing his fingers through Dean’s, “But she will come around, she just needs time.”

“I don’t think time’s going to do shit.”

“Claire is hurt,” Cas replied, “things weren’t always always easy. we didn’t always have the money, and I didn’t always have the time to be there for them.”

Dean raised the hand he had laced with Cas’s and pressed a kiss to the top of Cas’s hand. “I’m so sorry angel,” Dean whispered the words filled with so much pain Claire sucked in a breath. “For everything.”

“Dean, it was never your fault, a systems failure isn’t your fault.”

Silence fell and suddenly her heart beat was too loud, her breathing was too loud, everything was too loud as she watched Dean and her Dad stare at one another. Not a word spoken yet Claire can’t help but feel as if she’s missed a million different conversations, words said that only they would understand.

Dean raised a hand resting it against the side of Cas’ face as he continued to stare at the other. Slowly Cas leant down pressing a kiss to Dean’s lips.

“I didn’t know Chuck was such a good grandpa,” Dean teased as they pulled away, “thought he’d be more of the grandpa joe type.”

Claire rolled her eyes, it wasn’t funny the first time, what would make it funny the second?

Cas tilted his head either not thinking it’s funny or maybe just not getting it. Claire was going with the first option, cause it wasn’t funny. “He looked after them often when they were children and I had worked, though I am amazed at how well he did with them,” Cas replied, “he’d even let them have candy.”

“Shit really?”

A smile tugged at Cas’s lips, “I believe it’s unfair, he believes it was good parenting.”

“It’s unfair,” Dean replied. He looked down to their joined hands, a smile still across his voice though his tone came out more distant. “What about my dad?”

Cas pressed his lips together, and Claire leant closer to the door. The tension that had settled in the room was clear, whatever playful atmosphere that he'd been there suddenly gone, replaced with something more serious, more personal.

She should leave. Get a phone charger like she’d meant to or just go back to her room. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“John has called twice,” Cas finally replied, voice steady, maybe even careful, “once when they were children, and a second time a year or two ago. He’d wanted to meet them but I said no.”

“Good,” Dean mumbled, “don’t let that son of a bitch near them.”

“Have you talked to him?”

Dean shook his head, and Claire leant in a little closer, holding her breath as she watched, trying to hear whatever would come next. Maybe some kind of explanation, something that would answer one of the million questions she had, or at least feed her growing curiosity, though it seemed neither of them wanted to continue the conversation as Cas stepped away from Dean and out of Claire’s view.

“You did a good job,” Dean said as the sound of a drawer being opened came. “Jack- the kids amazing, and Claire,” he paused, and Claire could almost hear every possibility racing through his mind. Annoying. Rude. How would he say it nicely in front of her dad? “She’s beautiful.”

The statement comes like a sucker punch.

“I know,” Cas replied, walking back to his spot in front of Dean, now in his pajamas. An old AC/DC shirt and his bee pajamas pants that Claire had bought him as a joke. “She reminds me of you.”

She scrunched her nose, that had to be a joke, a cruel joke.

“She’s much better than I ever was,” Dean replied, and yah Claire isn’t perfect she knew that but for a second time that night Dean was right. “Have you seen the painting she’s working on,” Dean continued, “She has Leonardo looking like some amateur, and her grades! She’s talented as hell and some kind of genius- her music tastes shit but we’ll work on that.”

Claire bit at her lip, her stomach uneasy from all the praise, as Cas pulled Dean into a hug. “I’m sorry you weren’t able to be there,” Cas whispered softly.

Dean’s expression was full of pain, his eyes staring up to the ceiling, looking exhausted if not completely dragged, despite that his voice came out steady. “Remember how much she’d draw?” Dean whispered, “I swear the moment she could grab a pen she never stopped. They were so shitty.”

“You hung everyone on the fridge.”

“And she’d sign them bear.”

“That's because you made her believe her name was bear.” Cas replied.

A small smile tugged at Dean’s lips, though it was still nothing like the smiles Claire normally saw across his face. “Claire Bear was a cute name.” He whispered

“It was alright.”

Dean rubbed a hand at his eyes as he continued to look to the ceiling. “I fucked up,” He whispered and Claire stepped back. She couldn’t watch anymore, not with the weight of emotion that crushed her chest.

Her feet moved forward, as she forced herself to take a breath. The conversation repeated in her head as she walked down the staircase, once then twice, making her more sick each time. The pain in Dean’s voice, the pain across his face, his kind words, the adoration.

Why couldn’t he just hate her.

It’d be so much easier if he’d just hate her

Claire hated feelings. She always had and in the days after Dean and Cas’s conversation she only hated them more.

Being angry at Dean had been simple, she knew her feelings, she knew why she had those feelings. They’d always burned from the inside out, an energy that tore through her very veins, but an understandable energy. Now there was something else, a small pain in her chest that left her awake at night. That left her gasping for breath and wishing she’d simply die.

Maybe it was fear.

A small part of her wanting to let Dean in but that was far too aware of the pain that had caused the first time.

Thh feelings, the blur of anger and fear, all laced with confusion. She hated it, and she hated Dean for causing it.

“I can’t believe you still have those,” Dean grumbled as they walked along the forest path, Claire’s gaze darting to her fathers swim shorts. They were a bright obnoxiously blue colour, covered in yellow rubber ducks, a pair he’d owned, and she’d hated for as long as she could remember.

“I like them,” Cas replied and Claire was pretty sure the rubber ducks would like to be put out of their misery.

“Doesn’t stop them from being ugly as hell,” Dean called over his shoulder.

As they stepped out of the forest the scenery opened up onto a cliff side, the sound of crashing water filling the silence.

It’d been just over a month since Dean had been released and between school, Cas’s work, and Dean dealing with the court house or whatever he did, other than having meals together they hadn’t done anything as a family. Claire hadn’t minded, hell she preferred it that way, though apparently no one else agreed.

Claire laid her towel next to Jack’s, a few feet away from the cliff's edge and sat down, watching as her brother walked to the edge and peered down to the water below. “Jump!” Claire called.

“Is it safe to?” He asked, looking back to Dean and Cas who were laying out their own towels next to Claire’s.

“Just do it!” Claire replied.

“It’s safe,” Dean reassured. Way to ruin the fun

Jack looked back down to the water, then to them, chewing at his bottom lip. “it’s really high,” he said and Claire couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

Bitch.

“There’s a ledge closer to the water,” Cas said, Ashe placed down the cooler they’d brought. “I’ll show you.”

Cas walked over to Jack amd lead him down the side of the cliff, leaving her and Dean alone.

Claire glanced to her right, Dean’s own gaze forward watching the cliffs. He’d taken his shirt off allowing her a glimpse of the burn that covered his right back, as well as another burn on his left shoulder. It was a perfect circle, barely bigger than a quarter, matching the one Claire had seen on the back of his left hand. It even had the same purple tone to it, faded but definitely there.

As gross as she found the scars and burns it was hard not to stare. To study each one anytime Dean wasn’t looking. She’d wanted to ask and maybe a few weeks ago she would have but now, she couldn’t get the words to come out.

From just under the hem of his swim shorts she could see a few more scars. Thin white strips, some no bigger than an inch while others traveled across his whole thigh. Not one overlapped, all parallel to one another and perfectly placed.

Dean turned and Claire immediately looked away, biting at her lip as the guilt tugged at her stomach. “How was Jack's Soccer game?” She asked, keeping her gaze forward despite Dean’ eyes still on her.

He definitely knew she was looking, he had to.

“Awesome,” Dean replied, “yah, Jack he’s- he’s uh.”

“Awful,” Claire offered. She’d been to a handful of his games and she was sure that in every single one Jack had been hit in the face with the ball at least once. He was hands down the worst player on their team, if not the league and yet he absolutely adored it. She’d never understand her brother.

“He’s crap,” Dean agreed. “I thought he’d been messin’ around but he’s just shitty.”

“Yah, I think he might have two left feet.”

“Or’s blind,” Dean said, causing Claire to bite at her lip, stopping the smile that tried to form. “Kinda lucky I’m not coachin’, woulda sucked to bench him.”

Claire raised her eyebrow, “you were going to coach”

“Yah,” Dean replied, “the kid asked me to but you can’t have a criminal record so…” Dean shrugged. His tone was casual as if that really didn’t bother him, though the way his jaw was set and his chin was tilted up, gave him away.

It bothered him. A lot.

“And you were going to bench him?” Claire asked.

“Hey,” Dean said, a smile once again across his lips, “I only coach winners.”

Claire bit her lip harder, stopping herself from laughing. She could picture it easily, Dean in the matching tracksuits that all the coaches wore, overall excited and more passionate than any of the players. He’d be Annoying as hell and Jack would’ve loved it.

She brought her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, as Cas climbed back onto the cliff's edge, completely dry.

“You didn’t jump in?” Dean yelled, causing Cas to look at them.

Cas tilted his head. “It’s very cold,” he replied.

“What a bitch,” Dean whispered, causing Claire to raise an eyebrow. He stood and walked over to Cas, saying something that Claire couldn’t make out before he wrapped his arms around the other’s waist. Slowly Dean leant down pressing his lips to Cas’s in a slow, incredibly gross kiss.

Claire scrunched her nose. Could they have not done that anywhere else?

Slowly they pulled away, noses still almost brushing as Dean said something else and then picked Cas up by his waist. “Dean!” Cas screamed struggling to get out the other’s grip as Dean carried him towards the cliff's edge.

“Any last words, angel?” Dean asked, a grin across his face.

Cas glared back. “I want a divorced.”

“We gotta get married first,” Dean replied. He took a step closer to the edge and Claire chewed at her lip, stopping the smile that came as Cas struggled in Dean’s arms. “Ready?”

“No.”

“Three,” Dean began counting down slowly, “two.”

“Dean, please I-“

“One!”

And with that Dean jumped off the edge, taking Cas with him.

Claire jumped to her feet, and ran to the edge. The water was far below, the small waves crashing against the cliff side as Dean tried to keep his head above the water while Cas attempted to shove him back under.

As much as Claire hated it, she couldn’t help but smile.

They spent the rest of the day at the cliffs, the sun warming her skin as she jumped in the water or sat at the edge laughing as Cas pushed Dean back in. It’s almost too easy, too soft, the feelings, the thoughts, the actions, and yet she couldn’t, the happiness was so refreshing she couldn't help but welcome it.

She’s even disappointed when Cas gets a call from the hospital asking him to come in for a night shift cutting their day short. Though that doesn’t stop her from humming to Dean’s music as everyone else sang along, or agreeing to ice cream when Dean offered, or for once letting herself enjoy the man’s company.

When they got home Claire made her way to her room. She sat on the edge of her bed and stared at the photo on her bedside table. They looked happy, like any other family out at the park. Dean holding her feet to keep her safe on his shoulder, Jack just a bundle of yellow blankets, his small hands reaching up to Cas.

Claire picked up the wooden frame, grip tight around it as she held the photo in her lap.

They’d taken a photo on the cliff's edge, the four of them smiling as if they’d done it a hundred times before and they could have.

They could have taken family photos together, had family dinners and breakfasts. Gone on vacations and to the movies, been a family, if Dean hadn’t left.

Claire clenched her jaw, the tip of her nose burning.

She could trust Dean, that’s what her dad would say, that’s what he’d always said and she wanted to. She wanted to be happy, she wanted to be a family, she wanted it more than anything else. She’d give anything for it, but with the pain settling in her chest and the tears blurring her vision, it was too late.

They weren’t a family.

And they never would be.

A knocking at her door came and Claire wiped the back of her hand across her eyes just as the door opened. “Hey,” Dean said. “Me and the kid were thinking of goin’ to the movies, would you wanna come?”

Claire gripped the frame tighter, biting her lip. She couldn’t look up, not with the way her nose burned or her hands shook. Not with Dean’s eyes on her, caring and still loving her after everything. Why did he still love her?

Couldn’t he give up?

She sucked in a breath and Dean’s footsteps followed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Claire whispered.

“Well that’s a shit lie.”

She looked up to Dean who stood in front of her, a worried expression across his face, causing a dull pain across her chest. Claire clenched her jaw as if that would somehow stop it, or at least numb it out with something else. Anger.

Anger she could handle, it was familiar, understandable. She knew how to live through it, what to expect from it, the pain though, that was unbearable.

“I said,” Claire replied through clenched teeth, “I’m fine.”

Dean glanced at the photo in her hand, before looking back to her, his expression so gentle she wanted to cry. “Look if you don't want to talk I'm not going to make you,” Dean began, the wood digging into the palms of Claire’s hands as she gripped the frame tighter. She wanted to snap it, hear the crack as the wood broke in half. The tear as the picture was ripped into two. Anything to release the bubbling emotion. “But I'm here if you change your mind.”

“I was fine.” Claire replied in a clipped tone. Dean raised an eyebrow, giving Claire a moment to turn back, to stop the fight she knew she was starting though she only tilted her chin and narrowed her eyes at the other. “Everything was fucking fine,” she snapped, “everyhting, until you came back!”

Dean’s expression didn’t change, staying emotionless as he stared at her and somehow that made everything worse.

“You’d left us!” She screamed, not carrying what she said, just anything to get rid of the pain, to hurt him as much as he’d hurt her. “You left dad alone, and you left me!” Claire continued, the tears brimming her vision. “You jackass.”

Dean stepped forward, and Claire could only shake her head between her stumbled words. “You- you can’t- you left.”

“Claire-“

“Don’t.” She whispered, the word barely parting her lips.

She stared at Dean, lips barely parted.

There was so much more she wanted to say, so many more feelings she wanted to explain, yet she couldn’t find the energy to form them. Her vision still blurry as she held Dean’s gaze, though her grip around the frame had loosened and she couldnt find it in her to stop it from falling. It hit the ground with a loud crash, the glass shattering across her floor.

It wasn’t as satisfying as she thought it would be.

“You left for fifteen years,” Claire finally whispered, the words barely coming out. “And now I’m supposed to pretend as if everything’s okay and I can’t.”

“You aren’t my dad,” Claire whispered, “I didn’t want you back.”

She looked down to her floor, the shards of glass covering the wood, as the photo stayed flipped upside down only letting her see the back of the frame. Still she kept looking. She refused to look up, she didn’t think she could. “Get out.” Claire finally said.

“Can we please-“

“I said, get out.” When Dean doesn’t make a move Claire squeezed her eyes shut. “Now.” She demanded.

This time Dean listened.

It’s when Dean and Jack leave to the movies that Claire finally forced herself to stand, her legs weak under her weight as she walked out of her bedroom and into Cas’s.

The room hadn’t changed much since Dean had arrived, though it was enough to be noticeable. His leather jacket hanging on the closet’s door knob, his robe tossed over the desk chair, his books lined alongside Cas’s. The room was cleaner, unlike how Cas usually kept it, with stacks of papers or piles of clothing filling up any space they could. He’d never cared about keeping things clean, or maybe just never had the time, either way Dean seemed to care.

Claire made her way to the bookshelf, shuffling through the stack of scrap books Cas had made before she took the bottom one and sat at the edge of the bed. Slowly she flipped through the scrapbook, hands shaking as she studied each page. The paper everything that had been glued to, the decorations that covered it, pictures all paired with small descriptions of where and when they’d been taking. Most were of her between birth and one years old though there were a handful that had someone else in it, Dean or Cas, occasionally Chuck or one of her aunts and uncles.

When the last page came Claire could only stare. In the center was her with a birthday cake, on the top right her and Cas before her first birthday had started and on the bottom left was her and Dean after. Dean was sprawled across a couch fast asleep, while Claire slept on his chest, one of his arms wrapped tightly around her.

Her nose burned, vision blurry as she continued to stare at the photo. Even as the sound of the front door opening came, followed by the creaking of the stairs, she didn’t move.

Why couldn’t she have had that growing up.

Why couldn’t that have been her life.

What’d she do wrong?

“Claire?” She looked up to the bedroom doorway where Cas was stood still in his nurse scrubs, looking the way he always did after work, tired, though that expression quickly dropped into something more concerned as he stepped into the room. “What happened?”

She opened her mouth though nothing came, only a choked sob parting her lips as the tears fell and she finally broke.

Without a word Cas walked forward, gently taking the scrapbook from her hand before he sat on the bed and pulled her into a tight hug letting her sob into his shoulder. She gripped onto the material of his shirt, leaning further into his warmth, as she gasped for breaths. “I- I- I’m- I,” Claire choked through her tears, “I can’t!”

“You cannot what?” Cas asked gently.

She squeezed her eyes shut, listening to the steady breathing of her dad, his hand rubbing small circles on her back as the tears slipped down her cheeks, rolling slower than before. It would hurt him, her fight with Dean, he wanted everything okay and Claire was making it anything but that.

She was single handedly tearing whatever they were apart, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to stop.

“I can't- I can’t forgive him,” she finally whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“Dean?”

She nodded, “I- he left. He didn’t care enough or I did something wrong or I don’t know-“ Claire clenched her jaw as more tears fell. There was nothing she could do to stop them, she had no energy left, no will, just the dull pain across her chest. “But he left, and he’s going to do it again,” she continued, “and I- I can’t.”

“Dean, he didn’t want to leave,” Cas replied.

“But you don’t just get arrested.”

“Bear,” Cas whispered. He slowly pulled away causing Claire to lift her head, meeting her dad's gaze. His eyes were rimmed red and he had his head tilted to the side as he looked at her with so much pain. Pain she’d caused. “Dean’s arrest- it was not his fault,” Cas began, slowly, “it was a failure of our system’s and a failure of his father’s. Dean only did what he had to and I apologize that you’re facing the consequences.”

Cas raised a hand gently wiping away the tear that rolled down her cheek. “You were his everything,” he continued, “being your dad was the best thing that had ever happened to him.”

The words crushed upon her as she sat motionless, crushed under the pain of things she couldn’t even describe.

“Babies are hard,” Cas said, “there are rules to raising them that know one tells you but expects you to know and I had a hard time with you but Dean,” he pressed his lips together and glanced across the bedroom. “He seemed to know everything. When you woke up at night he would spend hours holding and talking to you.”

He looked back to her, giving a sad smile. “He loved you more than anything,” Cas whispered.

She didn’t move, words, feelings she didn’t know how to explain on the tip of her tongue. Nothing could fix the pain, the damage and scars that had been caused, and part of her wasn’t sure that the future could be fixed either. The pain dug too deep. The doubt had dug too deep, the fear of being hurt again rested in her chest with every breath she took.

She couldn’t do it again, she couldn’t take anymore pain.

“What if he does it again,” Claire whispered, looking down to the blue blankets.

Cas doesn’t reply and Claire pressed her lips together, squeezing her eyes shut as she inhaled before she opened them again. Cas trusted Dean. He trusted Dean with everything he had, and he wanted her to trust him too. She wanted to trust him, but she couldn’t.

“We visited him when you were four,” Cas began, his voice rough. “I’d visited a few times before that, but this was your first time. It was almost a four hour drive and we were only able to stay for ten minutes because of how much you hated being in the visitor Center.” Cas said. “I didn’t blame you, it wasn’t a pleasant place.”

“You’d cried from the moment you arrived until we’d left,” Cas continued. “Me and Dean agreed it was best if only I came to visit, but that didn’t stop him from keeping in contact, he’d write at least once a week to you and it was only when you were twelve and had never written back that he stopped.”

Claire looked up, staring at her dad. Too exhausted to cry. Too in pain to say anything else. She just wanted it over, she didn’t want to have to fix anything, she just wanted it to work.

She leant forward and Cas without hesitation pulled her into a tight hug, letting her bury her face into his shoulder.

“You smell,” she mumbled, as she buried her nose into his clothing where the hospital smell clung.

“And you’re getting snot on my shirt,” Cas replied, causing a smile to tug at her lips. She closed her eyes and Cas brought his hand to her back once again rubbing small circles there.

“Claire,” He said and she squeezed her eyes tighter. Hadn’t they talked enough. “How you and Dean’s relationship continues is your choice, and I love you no matter,” but, “but I want you to know; leaving you was the last thing Dean ever wanted to do.”

A soft knocking came and Claire looked up from her homework and to her bedroom door where Dean stood. He looked unsure, glancing around her bedroom, and Claire didn’t blame him; it'd been two days since their fight and neither of them had talked since, not so much as a good morning. She hadn’t been sure if Dean even wanted to be around her after everything.

She wouldn’t have wanted to be around her.

“Hey,” Dean greated.

“Hey,” Claire replied.

His hand dropped and Claire bit at her lip, “do you mind if I- uh come in?”

Claire shook her head, and Dean walked to her bed, taking a seat on the pink blankets, looking just as unsure as he had in the doorframe. He glanced to her bedside table where the family photo now stood in a new frame Claire had bought the day before and Claire shifted in her desk chair, fiddling with her pencil.

Dean looked back to her and she held her breath.

Whatever he had to say, she knew she wasn’t ready to hear.

“I was hopin’,” Dean began, “if you weren’t busy, we could talk maybe?”

Claire pressed her lips together before giving a small nod of her. “Yah,” she whispered. “Yah, we can do that.”

Dean exhaled, and Claire brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, before chewing at her lip. She wasn’t ready. She wanted to, but she wasn’t ready.

“I’m sorry,” Dean finally said, “I should’ve talked to you about everything the moment I got home, but I just- I wanted to pretend like nothing had happened cause well-” Dean gave a half smile, and Claire gave a small one back. “I’m not good at talking about my feelings and shit, that’s more of Cas’s thing.”

At least they had that in common.

“I- '' Dean continued, shifting in his spot as he looked back to his hands. “I was sentenced under the three strike law,” Dean finally said, “which gets you locked away for a long time for doing jack shit.”

Dean rubbed a hand down his face and Claire swallowed, the ache in her chest rising into her throat. She almost wanted to tell him to stop, the pain across his face, in his voice, so raw she could feel it across every inch of her skin. His lips parted, and eyes never fully meeting hers, instead on her lips or to her right, or simply blank staring forward, as if it hurt too much to do so.

“Growing up my dad wasn’t around a lot,” Dean began, looking to the ground. “He’d leave me and my brother without enough money for the both of us, or sometimes no money at all.”

Claire’s grip around her pencil tightened, the wood digging into the palm of her hand.

“One day, I think I was twenty, my dad just didn’t come back.” Dean wiped the palms of his hands across his eyes and inhaled before he continued speaking. “I had a job but it wasn't enough, so I stole what I could. I got caught a handful of times, but I was lucky and they only recorded three of them, I eventually got my shit together but that didn't clean my record,”

Dean looked up, his gaze meeting hers. His eyes were rimmed red, though gentle as he gave her a soft smile that she forced herself to return. “You were two and Cas always had you wearing the ugliest things, I was embarrassed to be seen with you,” Dean teased in some attempt to ease the tension. “Jack was only a few months old and we’d left you guys with Chuck while we went out to some bar.”

Dean licked his lips, his gaze once again dropping to the floor. “Chuck ended up calling us early, you wouldn’t fall asleep and wanted us home, so Cas went out to the car to talk to you while I paid the bill.” Dean continued, “when I got out these douchebags were being dicks to Cas so I told them to go screw themselves and when they didn’t leave us alone I broke the one guy's nose. I think the second guy ended up with bad bruising and the third went to the hospital with a concussion and some other shit. I ended up with a cracked rib.”

He rubbed the palms of his hands against his jeans before running a hand through his hair. “For the three strike law you need some kind of violent crime, so with the assault and my thefts it was enough for me to get a twenty four years sentence.”

“Still” Dean said, his expression pained though voice somehow steady, “I was lucky, lots of people get a lot longer for a lot less.”

Claire took a shaken breath, unsure how to reply, unsure how to feel, everything around her just seemed to buzz. She licked her lips, gripping the pencil tighter as if it was the only thing keeping her seated, and it might have been.

“And what about…” she began unsure how to continue. Slowly she raised her hand pointing to her right shoulder, as her gaze darted to Dean’s.

He frowned before seeming to understand what she was asking. “My dad, Dean whispered, “we were uh- out camping, he got pissed off and when he came at me I stepped back and into the fire.” He tapped the burn on the top of his left hand, “these ones were from cigarettes and these ones,” Dean brought his hands to his thighs, hesitating for a moment. “Life was shit,” he finally whispered.

He didn’t need to say anything else.

Without a word Claire stood her legs shaking as she moved forward. Mind numb. Her mouth still dry. Her heart beating heavy in her chest. She couldn’t bring herself to speak or even begin to process everything that had been said and instead she sat next to Dean and pulled him into a tight hug.

“I love” Dean whispered, as he held her. There was a crack in his voice that had Claire squeezing her eyes shut, focusing on his warmth. On the way he held back just tight enough to know he wasn’t leaving.

“Im sorry for leaving, I’m sorry for hurting you,” Dean pressed a kiss to the top of her head before resting his forehead there, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

-

Claire stopped at the entrance of the kitchen, the room lit by the afternoon sunlight. Dean was sat at the kitchen table, one hand around a beer and both feet propped up on another seat as he read whatever was on his laptop screen.

For a moment she stayed standing at the entrance unsure what to say. It’d been a few weeks since their fight and though things had gotten much better it was still awkward when both Cas and Jack were gone. Neither of them fully knew what to do around the other and though Claire would never admit it to anyone, especially not Dean, she was scared things would never come naturally, that the underlying tension between them would always be there.

“What’re you doing?” She finally asked, staying in her spot with her hands held behind her back.

“Writing my monthly report to my douchebag probation officer,” Dean mumbled, not looking up from the computer. “The jackass still won’t let me go to LA. He’s lucky I can’t own a gun.”

A smile tugged at her lips. “Want me to kick his ass?” Claire offered.

“No.” Dean looked up with a smile across his own lips as he mouthed ��yes’. “Violence doesn’t get you shit,” he continued before mouthing ‘do it’.

Claire looked to the ground, her bare feet cold against the kitchen tiles as her fingers fiddled with the paper she held behind her back. The words were on the tip of her tongue yet she couldn’t bring herself to whisper them. Her mouth dry and a heat crawling up her neck.

It’d be fine.

She just had to do it.

“I,” she finally began looking back up to Dean who was already looking at her. “I- um, I made you something.”

Dean didn’t say anything and Claire took that as an invitation to step into the kitchen. Nothing was better than no, or at least she hoped so.

Slowly she brought the painting out from behind her back and offered it to Dean. He took the painting from her hand, his gaze wandering over the paper. She’d repainted a photo she’d taken when they’d gone cliff jumping, just as the forest has opened up to the cliff side, with the water peaking over the cliffs where it met the sky in the horizon.

It wasn’t her best work, by far, water colour was hard with some of the colours blurring in spots, and the sun rays had been difficult to paint, yet she hoped Dean would at least appreciate the gesture.

And maybe not laugh at her.

“Son of a bitch,” he whispered and Claire chewed her lip as a smile spread across Dean’s face. “You made this?” He asked looking up as Claire nodded, “for me?” She nodded again.

Dean stared at her for a moment, before he looked back to the painting and quickly wiped a hand across his eyes. “Holy shit.”

“You like it?”

“Like it?” Dean asked, looking back to her. His eyes were glazed over and Claire chewed at her lip.“I love it, it’s awesome.”

Dean walked to their refrigerator and Claire couldn’t help but smile as Dean hung the painting with a few magnets before taking a step back to study it. “Shit,” Dean said, grinning back to her, “Michelangelo better which out.”

Claire laughed.

This was what she’d always wanted, and maybe she didn’t have it at first but like hell she was going to let it go.

She stepped forward, raising her arms for a hug and without hesitation Dean pulled her into one. His arms were tight around her waist, as she leant into his warmth, her arms around his neck and chin rested against his shoulder. “Thank you,” Dean whispered, the emotion clear in his voice.

Claire squeezed her eyes shut, her grip around the other tightening.

Things weren’t perfect but that didn’t matter, because they were going to be okay.

[ifistoptherain]

Star Crossed Lovers, a TsukkiYama fanfic

You can buy me a ko-fi here. You can read this on AO3 here.

Yamaguchi gets approached by Johzenji's captain, Terushima Yuuji to go on a date and Tsukishima Kei gets jealous. It looks like two alphas have their sight on Yamaguchi, how will he choose?

--

Karasuno wins against Johzenji. The adrenaline and happiness surging through Tadashi’s body is incredible. They can keep playing! It’s smiles all around as Daichi yells at them to line up and they all bow.

Playing against Johzenji was fun. The energy that that team brought to the game was wild and unpredictable, different from the other teams that would strategize every move. As usual, Hinata had the most fun, his happy pheromones flooding the court with the scent of oranges.

He’s packing up his things, with Tsukki right next to him when the Johzenji captain approaches. 

“Pinch server-kun, will you go out with me?”

He’s stunned. He can feel the blush creeping up his cheeks. Nothing has happened with Tsukki since their presentation and he’s tired of waiting. Maybe a bit of jealousy would be the exact push Tsukki needs.

He nods, holding out his phone to get his number. Terushima grins and walks away. And if Tadashi was to be honest, he’d been wondering how a tongue piercing tastes throughout the match. (Tadashi was really glad he always wears scent blockers, no way he’d be able to explain why his pheromones were horny. Actually, he could. Terushima was totally his type and it didn’t look like he was looking for anything too serious.)

He looks down at his phone. “Terushima Yuuji.” Yuuji? It means playful child, how fitting. He smiles at his phone and adds a heart emoji to his name. His heart is fluttering right now.

“So you’re going to go out with him?” Tsukki asks, expression unreadable. 

“Yup, why are you jealous?” Tsukki shakes his head, muttering something about being careful.

“He seems nice, and I like how he smells.” For someone so wild, Terushima smells like vanilla. How ironic. 

Just then, Yachi yells at them and they head to their bus. He’s honestly really tired, a quick nap is just what he needs.

When he gets home, his mother immediately wrinkles her nose. “Why did Tsukishima scent mark you so aggressively?”  

Tadashi shakes his head. “I have no idea, but today an alpha from another school asked me out, mom. I said yes!”

“Eh, I thought Tsukishima was courting you. You always smell like him. Are you sure you want to go out with someone else?”

“That’s what I thought too. I like him but he hasn’t initiated anything. I’m tired of waiting. Maybe a little jealousy will work?”

His mother punches him in the arm, “That’s seriously sly. Who taught you this behavior?”

“Like mother, like son.”

“Hey, I’m an innocent person! I bet you picked it up from your beloved Tsukki.”

“Moooommm.”

“Fine, fine, tell me all about this new alpha.”

“His name is Terushima Yuuji and he’s from Johzenji…”

--

When he checks his phone that night, there are no texts from Tsukki which was weird. So, instead he decides to text Terushima. He takes a selfie with his tongue sticking out, captioning “I wonder what a tongue piercing tastes like?” A bit flirty but Tadashi has been wondering.

He gets an immediate reply. Good, Tadashi likes attention. “Why don’t you find out this weekend?”

<b> Tadashi: </b> can i call you teru

<b> teruteru <3: </b> Only if i can call u dashi

<b> Tadashi: </b> then i should be calling you yuuji ◕ ◡ ◕

<b> teruteru <3: </b> You can if you want

<b> teruteru <3: </b> Who was the blond alpha? Would have burnt me to crisp with his glare D:

<b> Tadashi: </b> hes just my best friend

<b> teruteru <3: </b> You like him?

Tadashi pauses, unsure how to reply, admitting his feelings for Tsukki would ruin his chances with Terushima.

<b> teruteru <3: </b> Well im not looking for anyth serious anw

<b> teruteru <3: </b> I broke up with my ex a while back, we can be each others’ rebounds

<b> teruteru <3: </b>  In fact riling up an alpha seems especially fun

<b> Tadashi: </b>  u wanna watch a movie this sun?

<b> teruteru <3: </b> Sureeeee

<b> Tadashi: </b> ure definitely okay with dating for fun?

<b> teruteru <3: </b>  Yupppp

<b> Tadashi: </b> by the way

<b> Tadashi: </b> ill be preheat then so :p

<b> teruteru <3: </b> fuckkkkkkkkk

It’s Thursday so Tadashi only has three days till his date.

They’re having lunch in class when he tells Tsukki that he’s meeting Teru on Saturday, only for him to get no reaction. Tsukki passes him his lunchbox. Tadashi’s mother is a single mother and she’s usually too busy to cook for Tadashi. Tadashi tries to cook when he can but most of the time he’s too tired from working part time at Shimada Mart and the Yamaguchi family ends up eating take out. 

Stupid Tsukishima. If he didn’t like Tadashi, why would he constantly scent mark him and bring him a lunch box all the time? Honestly, Tadashi could ask Tsukki out. But, he knows Tsukki might say yes even if he didn’t have feelings for Tadashi, and Tadashi could just be overthinking Tsukki’s actions.

So, Tadashi wasn’t going to make the first move but he wasn’t going to wait forever either. He loves Tsukki but he knows that he deserves better than that.

The food is great. His lunches with Tsukki are the rare home cooked meals he gets. Curry rice always reminds him of his dad. But the sweet Japanese curries are different from the ones his dad used to make. Maybe, he should make something that his dad used to make. It’s hard to get Indian spices in Japan…

He really must drop by and thank Tsukki’s mum soon. Maybe with a gift?

“Hey Tsukki, should I get your mother a gift? She’s always helping me and my mum out. I feel bad.”

“No, it’s fine. But she did mention that she wanted to see you soon.”

“I’ll come by for dinner soon then.”

“You seemed sad?” He hadn’t even realised he had looked sad.

“I was just reminded of my dad. Thought I should make some of the food he used to make, maybe I’ll make some for mum.” His dad passed away a year ago. They’re okay with it now. Both his mum and him were able to brace themselves as he was sick for a while. 

But, sometimes it hurts. Like someone twisted a knife in his heart. 

Tadashi smiles. “It’s not a big deal, Tsukki.” It really isn't.  Grief demands to be felt and there’s nothing you can do about it. It just makes him appreciate his time with his dad more.

“Is Aki-nii coming back this weekend? I think he mentioned something like that a while back.”

And immediately, Tsukki looks annoyed. “How does he have the time to text you and not me? I’m his brother.”

“Well, Tsukki. I’m the favourite, besides you ignore him all the time. Now, if I were to tell Aki-nii what you just said, he might text you more often.” He points his chopsticks in Tsukki’s direction.

“Shut up, Yamaguchi.”

“Sorry, Tsukki.” He looks pointedly at him. “But… If you were more vocal in your affection, Aki-nii would reciprocate.” Tsukki better take the hint. Or maybe not, he would enjoy his date with Teru after all.

“By the way, I won’t be in school next week. Take notes for me, will you?” He can see the cogs turning in Tsukki’s brain.

“You’re going to be spending your pre-heat with Terushima? Just be safe.” Ugh. Tadashi could bang his head on the table. Will Tsukki ever get it?

“I will.”

“What do you think I should wear for the date? I was thinking something punk, Teru has those vibes. He might like it.”

--

Terushima picks him up, looking as punk as he could imagine, with a motorbike. Terushima looks great, the pants are tight, showing off his toned legs and bubble butt. The white tank top shows off his muscular arms through the sheer black top.

And Tadashi is really glad he went through his mother’s closet and picked out a leather jacket with spikes on it and borrowed Yachi’s choker. He’s wearing a t-shirt that he owns and skinny jeans. 

“Terushima! You look good.”

“I thought you were going to call me Yuuji. And you look good too.” He holds out a helmet for Tadashi to wear. 

“Only if you call me Tadashi.”

“Okay, Tadashi, hop on.”

Yuuji clearly has a need for speed. Tadashi thinks it's a ploy to get him to hold onto the alpha’s waist tightly. It works.

The wind also blows Yuuji’s pheromones right into his face. It’s a bit intoxicating, he hasn’t been in such close parameters with an alpha before.

Yuuji pays for everything, of course Tadashi offers to pay but it's an empty offer. There is nothing sexier than a capable alpha, it makes him feel like he would be well taken care of.

The movie bores Tadashi out of his mind so he leans into Yuuji. Nuzzles his face into Yuuji’s scent glands. He likes how Yuuji smells. He smells so sweet, a bit sugary like Tadashi could eat the alpha up. It’s a fun thought.

His preheat was making him just a bit more horny than usual. After a few minutes of nuzzling, Yuuji looks him in the eye. 

“You smell spicy, it’s rare.”  Yuuji sucks at the skin of his neck.

“I’m half indian.” Tadashi is pretty sure what someone smells like depends on the food they ate as a child. Huh, maybe Yuuji ate a lot of vanilla ice cream as a child.

He bites the sensitive skin of Tadashi’s scent glands, sucking on it and Tadashi can’t suppress the moan.

“Be quiet, <i>omega</i>.” Tadashi knows that Yuuji knows that the two of them are probably the only two left in the movie theatre.

“Make me, <i>alpha<i>.” Yuuji’s eyes almost seem to glow as he immediately closes the gap between their lips. He pushes Tadashi onto his back, who promptly wraps his legs around the alpha’s waist. His lips are rough, a bit dry. He tastes like the cheap, buttery popcorn they had earlier. Tadashi’s tongue runs along Yuuji’s tongue piercing, it doesn’t taste like anything really.

His hands are on Tadashi’s back, but one is creeping up his shirt. They stop making out for a moment and Tadashi takes off Yuuji’s shirt. Meanwhile, Yuuji pushes up Tadashi’s shirt, tongue dragging along his chest, sucking on the nipples. The metal feels cool against his skin.

Meanwhile, Tadashi feels up Yuuji’s muscular arms. He’s so strong...

“Fuck, you smell so fuckable.” He’s back to nosing at his scent glands and sucking on that skin. Tadashi lifts his hips up, gyrating against Yuuji’s crotch. They’re both hard, Tadashi notices with satisfaction.

Yuuji stops for a moment and Tadashi whines. 

“Your heat’s starting soon, let’s leave.” Ugh. It would only start tomorrow so why couldn’t he enjoy his time with Yuuji?

“Yuuji, I don’t want to…” He leans away, getting up. Deep down, Tadashi knows he’s right. He pulls Tadashi up by the arm.

Yuuji leads them out and Tadashi follows, clinging onto his arm. Tadashi does feel slightly light headed now that he thinks about it. Yuuji is awfully quiet and Tadashi’s pretty sure they’re speeding. It must take a lot of focus to deny an omega almost in heat. At least, wrapping his arms around Yuuji is nice.

When they arrive, Yuuji pushes his shirt into Tadashi’s arms. 

“For your heat.” Tadashi plants a very chaste kiss on Yuuji’s lips.

“Thanks for today, Yuuji.”

He hears the motorcycle rev off, once he’s closed the door behind him. He’s sweet and respectful, isn’t he?

“I’m home!” He says to no one in particular, his mum must have picked up an extra shift at the bar again.

He’s alone again. Yuuji just left and he misses him terribly. There’s probably an hour left until his heat actually hits.

<b> Tadashi: </b> thanks for today

<b> Tadashi: </b> drive safe

<b> teruteru <3: </b> :D

He had already built his nest and stocked his room with water in advance. Or maybe his mum had put the water bottles in? He doesn’t remember.

<b> Tadashi: </b>tsukkkiiiiiii 

<b> Tadashi: </b> he has a motorcycle! a motorcycle!!

 <b> Tadashi: </b> the movie we watched was super boring but

<b> Tadashi: </b> yuuji was really sweet i think i could fall for him

<b> Tadashi: </b> but hes not looking for anyth too serious

The messages show up as read but Tsukki doesn’t reply because when does he ever. There’s a meal in the fridge, some take out his mum probably got from work. He climbs into his nest on his bed, after dinner. AC on blast, heats could get so hot and so sticky.

During his heat, Tadashi imagines not just Tsukki’s long fingers but also Yuuji’s firm but gentle touches and his playful bites.

It’s Thursday afternoon and Tadashi’s heat is mostly gone. It’s just a dull ache in his bones now. Yuuji’s poor sheer shirt has been desecrated. Tadashi handwashes it, and then sends a pic of him wearing it with nothing below to Yuuji. Also, Yuuji’s hickies hadn’t faded in the 4 days since then.

<b> Tadashi: </b> (*^^*) the hickies still havent fadedddd

<b> teruteru <3: </b> I like to show off my work~ 

<b> teruteru <3: </b> Besides, I didn’t hear complaints at the time~~

<b> Tadashi: </b> (*^^*) 

He definitely had been in pre heat then because he hadn’t noticed how aggressive Yuuji was. The hickeys hurt if he touches them. Yuuji’s aggressiveness was sexy actually.

He’ll probably have to put makeup on them when he goes to school. But it's only Thursday and he’d probably ditch on Friday anyway so hopefully, it would fade before next Monday. 

Tomorrow, he has a morning shift at the convenient store nearby and then an afternoon shift at Shimada mart. 

<b> tsukki <3: </b> is ur heat over?

<b> Tadashi: </b> mostly but ill be working tmro, keep taking notes tsukki!

He’s been leeching on Tsukki a lot actually, from notes to food.

<b> Tadashi: </b> u wanna practise volleyball with me tmro? ill teach u the jump float serve

<b> teruteru <3: </b>  YESSSS

He takes the rare opportunity to cook himself and his mum a meal. She usually leaves in the late afternoon for work and arrives in the wee hours of the morning. But the upside to those working hours was that Tadashi got to spend time with her during the day. If she had the typical working hours, the both of them would be too tired to talk.

He just makes omelette rice. It’s simple and he’s still worn out from his heat. After dinner, he studies the school work he had missed. He knows Yuuji isn’t looking for a serious relationship but he can’t get past the what if. But he knows that's unfair to Yuuji since he still likes Tsukki. Tsukki with his golden hair and golden eyes and kind words reserved only for Tadashi, makes him feel special. They’ve been friends for years, Tsukki knows him like the back of his hand. It’s comfortable and he knows Tsukki will always be there for him but with Yuuji it’s different. It’s new and exciting and so great to finally be with someone who would do something about their feelings instead of just having Tadashi on the hook. But, part of him can’t shake the fact that somehow, deep inside him, he feels like he’s cheating on Tsukki. It’s ridiculous, really. 

He’s just lucky his omega hadn’t decided that Tsukki was his alpha. Then, he would have been in a world of suffering by constantly pining. Actually, Tadashi does pine. He just knows he deserves better than that. In fact, he thinks his omega likes Yuuji more. That whore. Why else would his heat start early?

(He knows he’s calling himself a whore, shut up.)

The next day, work goes by slowly. So few people come in so Tadashi gets to play on his phone and text Yachi. He knows, knows, that Yachi has been dying to hear about his date. The only reason she hadn’t called was because she thought he was still in his heat. He calls her during lunch. He tells her all about how he’d been so respectful despite his heat starting early. Respectful alphas were so hard to come by. God. Yachi gushes how if he doesn’t end up being with Yuuji, he better give Yachi, Yuuji’s number. Pffttt. He’s excited to see Yuuji later. 

His shift finally finishes, and he heads home to change into a t-shirt and gym shorts before meeting Yuuji. He’s in and out before he knows it. When he gets to the court, Yuuji is already there. Wearing a tank top again. Show off, he knows he looks good in tank tops doesn’t he?

“Yuuji.”

“Dashi.” He smiles, the instant he looks at Tadashi. He’s so cute. They play one on one volleyball for a while before he teaches Yuuji how to do the jump float serve. 

By the time they're done, Tadashi is soaked in sweat. They are sitting next to each other, taking sips of water and Yuuji just seems to glisten under the yellow street lights. 

“You know, I never did thank you properly the other day.” Yuuji’s eyebrows quirk upwards, smiles growing wider.

“Oh? How would you like to thank me?” He brings his face closer to Tadashi’s.

“Why don’t you come back to my place and find out?” He whispers into Yuuji’s ear. Immediately  Yuuji takes the opportunity to bite his neck. What was with him and Tadashi’s neck?

“Not here, Yuu-” He licks Tadashi’s scent glands before stopping.

They get up and Yuuji looks like the cat that got the cream.

They get on his bike and Tadashi manages to persuade him to forego the helmet. His place is only a few minutes away anyway.

He loves how the wind runs through his hair and he loves how he gets to hold Yuuji, basically feeling him up. He hooks his head on the side of Yuuji’s neck, getting a full blast of Yuuji’s pheromones. It’s heady and lustful, he’s clearly horny. Though Tadashi doubts he himself smells any different.

They get there in record time. Tadashi doesn’t know how they make it up to his room.

Yuuji is aggressive as usual but Tadashi stops him.

“It’s my treat, Yuuji. You can just enjoy.”  Yuuji sits on the edge of his bed and Tadashi unzips his pants, pulling off his boxers. He begins by licking the dick from the base to the tip, taking his time to go slow, just to tease Yuuji. He then licks the tip repeatedly and hears Yuuji groan.

“Faster,” He moans. His hand grabs onto Tadashi’s hair, pushing his head forward. Tadashi swallows his dick whole. Head bobbing as Yuuji pants. Precum begins dripping from it and Tadashi laps it up, tongue swirling around the dick.

“No... you don’t have to,” Yuuji breathes out. Tadashi ignores him, moving faster and swallowing the cum when Yuuji comes. 

Yuuji looks at him through hooded eyes and says, “Now it’s my turn to treat you.” He picks up Tadashi from the floor, placing him on the bed. And as usual, he begins by biting at Tadashi’s neck who was beginning to think that the alpha had a thing for Tadashi’s neck. Frickin’ vampire.

He begins to unzip Tadashi’s pants and he has the realisation that he doesn’t want this, not yet anyway. 

“No, Yuuji, stop.” And immediately, Yuuji stops and lets Tadashi sit up.

“I’m sorry, I thought I wanted it but I don't. Not yet, anyway.” He plays with his hands not looking directly at Yuuji.

“You don’t have to apologise, as long as we are both comfortable. You wanna cuddle?”

And that’s how Tadashi ends up in Yuuji’s arms, although he’s taller and once again, Yuuji is nosing at Tadashi’s neck.

“What’s with you and my neck? You’re like a vampire.” 

“I just love how you smell, it’s sexy. You mind if I scentmark you? ” 

“No, go ahead.” And, Yuuji rubs his scent glands all over his neck and head and face. Possessive much?

“I know we said we won’t get too serious but I like you and I don’t want other alphas after you.”

“I like you too, Yuuji. Besides, there’s no one after plain old me.”

“What about blondie, you still like him, don’t you?” Tadashi stiffens.

“Yea maybe but I’m here with you not him, that counts for something right?” He hears Yuuji sigh, he feels sorry. He hasn’t completely moved on from Tsukki. Not yet, anyway.

“You wanna stay the night? It’s too dark for you to be driving out there… But you might have to deal with my mum in the morning.”

“I’ll stay, I get to hold a pretty thing all night anyway.”

When Tadashi wakes up the next morning, Yuuji isn’t in bed. But then, he hears laughter coming from downstairs. No, this is bad.

When he walks down after washing up, both Yuuji and his mom are laughing together.

“Mommmmm.” God, she had probably spilled all of his secrets already.

“Tadashi! You didn’t tell me that Terushima was so charming.” He narrows his eyes at her, shouldn’t she be asleep?

“I’m just heating up leftovers for the both of you and then I’ll go, I promise.” And to his horror, Tadashi finds a photo album of his baby pictures on the table. Nooooo.

“Mom, why’d you show this? I’m embarrassed.”

“Don’t be, you looked very cute.” He punches Yuuji on the arm.

“Of course, you’re going to say that now and tease me about it later.”

“I won’t, I promise. I promise.” He says between laughter. God, he’ll never recover from the teasing will he?

True to her word, his mother disappears and they both sit down for breakfast.

“I’m sorry about my mum.”

“Hey, why are you saying that? She was really nice.”

 They talk about nothing important, mainly volleyball during breakfast and also about how Yuuji was in the college prep class? What a contrast to his punk vibes.

Yuuji prepares to leave after breakfast, and Tadashi hands him back the sheer shirt he had lent for his heat.

“Yuuji, can I scent mark you?” Yuuji’s eyes light up, grin bright as the sun.

“You don’t even have to ask.”

“You sure it’s not going to affect the fake punk image you have going on? To smell like an omega?”

“It’s not fake, I am a punk!”

“A punk who is in college prep class.” 

Tadashi stands in front of Yuuji who stands ever so still, waiting. He doesn’t move as Tadashi rubs his glands on the alpha’s face and neck.

“Done! Goodbye, Yuuji.”

“What? I don’t get a goodbye kiss?”

Tadashi shakes his head, he’s so stupid, and pulls Yuuji in for a kiss. Their lips part and Yuuji steps away.

“I’ll get going then.” 

Tadashi holds onto his arm, “Do you have to?”, and pulls him into another kiss.

“I have to, I told my sister I’d help her with her homework.”

“Aww, the punk who wears leather and rides a motorbike helps his sister with her homework.”

“Hey! Besides, if I wasn’t leaving you wouldn’t kiss me so much.”

“One last kiss.” 

Just then, there’s a knock on the door. It’s too early for deliveries, Tadashi thinks as Yuuji opens the door.

It’s Tsukki.

[hs-devote]

20. E N D G A M E

Moodboard // Content // Masterlist

Disclaimer:

All characters and situation in this story are fictitious. Resemblance to any person living or dead is only God knows. Previous chapter;

"And it will be better for us, to help us to move on with each other's lives."

Move on with each other's lives.

Was that what she wanted?

20. ENDGAME

“How's him, Niall?”

“He's .. he's getting worse.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don't even feel him anymore.” . . . .

It had been months since Y/N decided to take proper rest to help her syndrome. At the first few months, she was overwhelmed by her poor brain performance. She had almost burnt her kitchen because she forgot how to turn off the stove all of a sudden. One day, she even forgot where her apartment was after going out for grocery shopping. The poor woman was anxious, making her cry in the middle of the street. Luckily for her, her neighbour found her and drove her home.

Her parents were worried, of course. They both were agreed to Y/N to came back home in Swansea,  for them were easier to look after her. After all, she had no one in London anymore.

During that time too, she underwent routine treatments to restore her condition. From drugs to a few therapies. To this day, her condition was better, although sometimes she still got light headaches.

If her health had improved, her heart wasn't completely healed.

No matter how hard she tried to forget her broken relationship, especially him, she couldn't. Harry was too beautiful to be forgotten. Despite what happened last time, she couldn't lie even if her tongue said another.

She remembered the last time, really last time, when she met him in his penthouse to pick up her things. Y/N indeed hadn't lived with Harry yet, but since she often stayed at his place, he suggested her to bring some her things to his penthouse.

He looked skinnier, and his face looked tired. From what she heard from Suzanne, Harry's loss of appetite made him lost weight. Plus, time-consuming work also made him forget to rest. Y/N had scolded at him for refusing to eat his lunch at that time, and made her had to force her ex-boyfriend to eat even a little.

But Harry was Harry.

He would eat if she also had lunch with him. She refused at first, yet because she felt bad with Suzanne who had made the food, then she finally agreed. On the other hand, she was a bit sad that their lunch at that time was so different. If usually they would have a conversation, for the first time, only the sound of plates and cutlery between them.

Harry.

Harry.

She missed him very much.

The two of them no longer in touch after that. She still had his number, but did he?

She didn't know.

Nevertheless, he sent her a flower bouquet for her twenty-fourth birthday. She remembered very well what Harry wrote on the card. A simple birthday wishing. Yet, he didn't call her nor text her.

Well, what did she expect?

They broke up.

She was the one who broke their relationship first.

She was the one who told him to move on.

Why was she still yearning for him?

Because Y/N broke them when she was falling in love for the first time.

Did she regret it?

Y/N couldn't answer that. . . . .

Y/N just returned home after buying food for her fish. Yes, she had two goldfish to keep her company if she got bored. Her eyes caught an unfamiliar car parked in front of her house, a quite expensive car for the neighbourhood where she lived.

Shrugged it off, she ignored her thoughts and immediately went in. In the living room, she saw her brother was talking to a woman. Was this his girlfriend? But, he didn't say anything.

When she was about to say hello to them, her smile faded as she recognised the lady who had been sitting back facing her.

“Clementia?”

“Hi..” Clementia shyly waved her hand, smiling softly. Y/N averted her gaze to Connor, raising an eyebrow – asking for some explanation. How did he know Harry's sister?

“She comes looking for you,” he shrugged, “Well, I'll leave you two.” then leaving both the girls alone.

“How are you, Y/N?” Clementia asked her once she took a vacant seat available, “It's been too long.”

“I'm fine, Ce. You?”

“Good.”

She nodded, “What are you doing here?”

“Err..” Clementia bit her lip, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. Looking confused to answer Y/N question.

“We need your help.”

Y/N arched an eyebrow, “What kind of help?”

Something must gone wrong. There was no way Clementia had come all the way here asking for something unimportant. She wouldn't ditch her school in Italy and come to Swansea for only meeting her and having a casual conversation. Or, maybe she was on her semester break?

“It's Harry.”

“Harry?”

“Yes,” Clementia sighed, “You're our only hope, Y/N. Just like Niall told me.”

What did Niall say to Clementia? What actually happened?

"I... I don't understand," Y/N laughed nervously, "We're not a relationship anymore if you don't know."

“I know. But– ”

“Harry's condition is worrying, Y/N.”

Her head snapped to the where the voice came. There, Niall was standing at her door, with his arrival that she didn't know. Since when he was there?

“I'm sorry I just come,” Niall spoke, “Traffic was quite shit today.”

While Clementia just rolled her eyes, Y/N stared at Niall anxiously. What did he mean by that? Did Harry have an accident?

“What do you mean, Niall?” she asked quietly.

“Harry.. has been so stressed lately. Making him lost control of his emotions. He seemed not to care about his life anymore, and that makes Marcel take the opportunity.”

Y/N's eyes widened the time Niall said Marcel. He was sitting next to Clementia, how could he slip like that?

“I already know Harry's condition and who is Marcel.” Clementia spoke to answer her thought.

“And your mother?”

"She knows too. That's why she didn't come here, have to set an eye to him." Clementia nodded, "It broke my heart that Harry has such a hard life. It's not his fault that he.. he grew another personality that eats him alive."

“What exactly happened to him?” Y/N questioned after a minuted passed in silence. Hearing Marcel's name, made her shudder a little. It had been so long since she had heard Marcel and Harry's name pronounced in one sentence.

Marcel.

How was he?

"Marcel is the one who lives in Harry's body as we speak now. Harry is getting weaker, and hasn't been able to come back with us for more than a month." Niall rubbed his face, "We're afraid that... Harry will gone.”

Her heart felt like being electrocuted when she heard that. Marcel took over Harry's body, and her ex-boyfriend had no strength to fight him. And it had been going for a month. A month.

A month, Harry never came back to his place.

And he didn't care anymore.

Why?

“No way,” she chuckled incredulously, “The last time I met him, he said that Marcel refused to show up.”

“It's because he took his time,” Niall answered, “He saved his energy and knocked Harry out when he was weak.”

“And why couldn't Harry fight him? Why didn't he care?” Y/N bombarded him questions, “Harry should be strong enough. He has no more burden because Erskine was back to normal.”

“It's you, Y/N.” Clementia squeaked.

Y/N pointed her finger dumbfounded to her chest, “Me?”

"My brother is very sad and depressed with your break up," Clementia murmured, "He thought too much of your separation to make him forget about his health, and he feels guilty for failing to protect you from the incident with your head."

It was because of her..

Y/N speechless.

She didn't think this would all be bad for his condition. She didn't know Harry would take it too seriously.

“Has Marcel done anything... bad?" she asked carefully. She wasn't sure if Clementia also knew what crimes Marcel had committed. Her feelings worsened when Niall looked confused to answer while Clementia just lowered her head and leaned back.

“He killed Dale.” . . . .

Returning to London was quite nice. For a long time she left this city, made her miss some places.  Y/N would stay for two days in London, and since she was agreed to help the Styles family, she would try to talk to Harry, or Marcel.

She couldn't refuse their request, especially Anne also called her and begged her to meet her son – hoping that Harry would listen to him, even though he was deep in his subconscious.

One more fact she wanted to know, why Marcel killed Dale?

That disgusting human had already rotten in jail, why did he have to get his hands dirty – again?

Despite her worries, she was a bit happy to meet him despite this difficult situation.

Back to set foot on his building, pulling her to play back the memories of her and Harry. She remembered when they were pretty drunk, and luckily only his penthouse was on that floor, they were making out all the way to his home. Moaning out loud in the hallway, stumbling in the dim light as Harry tried to unlock his door. It was midnight, and there was only two of them there. And the rest, their scattered clothes on the floor being the silent witnesses.

Her cheeks became hot just to think about it.

Harry.. Oh, fuck..

She was startled when the door in front of her being opened, showing Anne who smiled kindly at her.

Since when had she gotten to Harry's floor and rang the bell?

Anne brought her body to her warm embrace, “Hi, darling. How are you?”

“I'm good, Anne.” Y/N smiled fondly.

“You must be tired of the long journey. Where's Niall? You should have come with him right?"

Niall?

“Yeah, yeah. I'm here.” An Irish voice came from behind her.

How could she forget that she came here with Niall?

Y/N laughed at her stupidity inwardly.

Harry's penthouse was quite quiet. She didn't see Suzanne, only Clementia who was busy on the stove. Anne kindly poured them a drink before sitting down with them. Her happy face now turned sadder than before.

"Thank you for coming, Y/N. It means a lot for us." Anne smiled apologetically, "I'm sorry if it bothers you. I don't know anyone else to ask for help."

"It's okay, Anne. I understand." Y/N gave her a small smile, "How's him?”

“He's still.. Marcel.” Anne carefully answered, “I don't see Harry in him. He isn't annoying as before, but it still different.”

“Has he done anything all this time?”

“Besides.. killed Dale?” Anne whispered, “Not really. He was just been awful, a bit rude, but he wasn't physically abusive.”

Anne knew Marcel killed Dale.. “But, still. We don't know next.” Niall murmured, “We have to be careful and not make him angry.”

“He wouldn't lay off  his hand at a female." then, Y/N stared at Niall, "But, I agree with Niall."

Suddenly, they flinched when they heard a scattering loud from Harry's bedroom. When Y/N looked at Anne, the old lady just closed her eyes and rubbed her face while Niall swiftly getting up from the couch.

“I'll prepare his medicine, and shot– just in case.”

“Can I see him, Anne?" she spoke quietly. Anne just nodded and warned her to be careful. Giving Harry's mother reassuring smile, she brought her leg to his bedroom.

She wasn't too surprised to find broken glass scattered near the door. She entered slowly and found Marcel staring at his laptop screen. The man didn't seem to have noticed her presence yet. After gathering courage, Y/N stepped closer to him.

“Marcel.”

Hearing her voice, Marcel averted his gaze towards her. His forehead creased in surprise, looking at the woman who hadn't he saw for months. He shrugged, shaking his head unbothered.

“What are you doing here?”

His voice was surprisingly calm. Yet, Y/N still had to be careful. He was Marcel after all, not her Harry.

“Didn't you miss me, huh?” she tested the water, she even didn't know if Marcel wanted her presence let alone miss her. She couldn't straight to the point asking why he threw Harry's favourite mug, why Harry didn't bother to back in his body, and why he killed Marcel.

“Wrong person, Y/N. Harry was the one who suffered because he missed you, a lot.” Marcel snickered, “Poor Harry was so fragile about love, pathetic.”

“Marcel, I didn't come here to fight with you.” Y/N sighed, “I just want to.. talk with you. Like a friend?”

Her last sentence was more a question to herself, because she wasn't even sure.. they were friends. She sighed heavily when Marcel still unbothered, and with careful steps, she walked closer to him.

“Why are you so selfish like this, Marcel? You took the opportunity when Harry was weak and control his body at will. You must remember, Harry is a part of you. You're nothing if it's not because of him."

“You know nothing, my darling.” Marcel shook his head, lifting his head up to stare at the girl who was looking at his dark irises. “When Harry had given up on his life, I couldn't let him leave it all. If Harry didn't want to stay and I didn't act fast, this body would be lifeless. He would be sleeping, so would I. And then, what?”

She didn't mishear that, did she? Why Harry gave up on his life? He still had so much more in his life, why did he think like that?

“Why?” she murmured, “What caused him to think that way?”

“You.”

Y/N widened her eyes, “Me?”

“Like what I just said. He was so desperate. He feels like everything is wasted if you're not with him anymore.” he rolled his eyes, “He was very hurt because he loves you very much.”

He was drowning on his own love..

"And you didn't try to persuade him?" she changed the topic. Y/N couldn't keep hearing Harry who was sounded unable to move on and be the most hurt. She was hurt too, but she realised the reality that had slapped her sweet dream.

“Believe me, Y/N. Despite I'm satisfied with this opportunity, I also miss my dark corner.” Marcel  worked his jaw, “Being him is not easy.”

“Fine,” Y/N whispered, “Then, why did you kill Dale Jespersen?”

“One of the reasons he was tired of everything was also because I killed Dale," Marcel put the laptop away, going to the chair facing the window. His fingers rubbed his chin while staring at Y/N who was still standing next to the bed.

“Dale Jespersen appeared all of sudden and blocked Harry's car one night. Your ex-boyfriend just came back from the office and was so shocked. How could someone who was supposed to be in a prison roam freely at night? Long story short, that prick bribed the officers there to release him that night, only to meet Harry. And of course, for revenge."

Y/N shook her head in disbelief, “How could that be?”

“He said something offensive and... he was gone.” he gave her innocence look, “Don't think about how I got rid of him. Be glad Harry didn't end up in prison.”

“But your family know!” she cried, “How fucked up was that?”

“Yes, they do. But the world doesn't. Good thing Harry has money and connections so I can use that. After all, Dale was alone on his own self in this earth. Why was he still in this world."

“I can't.. with you, Marcel.” she pinched her forehead, “I just.. I just don't know the way you're thinking.”

“Then, why are you here?” he scoffed, “If you're trying to call him, good luck then. Because if you don't hurry, you'll lose him.”

Grunted irritably, Y/N got up from her spot and left Marcel who still seemed not care about her. However, she was sure Harry still could her and felt her presence despite he didn't want to reveal himself.

“I know you're there, H. Please come back. Don't be scared. I'm here, and we'll be alright.”

And that was all she said before leaving him alone. Letting the words crawling inside his mind and soul. . . . . Y/N had no luck talking to Marcel. Not her fault, but it looked like Harry indeed had given up. Yet, she was also wondering if he could feel her presence that day. Didn't he want to meet her?

She also stayed longer in London than she planned. Her parents didn't mind, but Connor was the one who scolded her on the phone. Her brother knew why she went to London, and he didn't like that. He didn't like the idea of her sister help the man who made her cry for days after their broke up despite he didn't know why exactly they broke up. He just knew that things couldn't work between them so she decided to back off. He didn't know which one was wrong. But, one thing he knew, he would do anything to protect Y/N, no matter what.

Anne insisted her to stay at Harry's penthouse at first, but she remembered the circumstance, so she understood when Y/N refused gently.

The girl stayed at a hotel that Anne booked for her for another week, and she was very grateful and making a mental note to pay Anne's kindness someday.

That night, Y/N was trying to find a new job because she thought her condition had improved. She was also thinking about trying to apply for a postgraduate scholarship if she couldn't find any job. There were several vacancies on the internet that made her interested.

It was one in the midnight and she had to get her things ready as she would get back to Swansea tomorrow. After closing her laptop, she quickly packed her things and got to bed early because her train would leave in the morning. But, when she was about to brush her teeth, her mobile phone rang a few times. She frowned when seeing Niall's name on the screen.

“Hello, Niall?” she said softly, her palm closed her yawning mouth. Her eyes, which were heavy with sleepiness, suddenly opened up widely after hearing Niall's panicked voice at the end of the call.

“You're joking, aren't you?” Y/N didn't know if she was screaming or not. It was clear that her tone was quite high and she realised that. Her hands suddenly sweating, making her almost drop her mobile phone.

The last thing she knew, she sprinted to grab her jacket and hurried out of her hotel room.

. . . . Here, everything was so quiet. Y/N heard almost nothing but the beeping machine. Her heavy eyes grew heavier because of the tears that flowed when Anne hugged her while sobbing violently earlier. She had never seen Anne so frail and sad before, and that made her heart ache even more.

Her sleepiness disappeared at the second Niall called her and giving her the news that sucked her life out.

Harry was involved in a car crash and in critical condition.

Niall didn't give the full chronology. As far as she knew from him, Harry drove off the track and his car was hit from behind before hitting the divider. Also, he was drunk while driving.

Now, the man was lying unconscious with wires connected between his body and the machine beside his bed. A few scratches on his face didn't make any better. The bandage wrapped around his head reminded her when she had the same one back then.

The doctor said, if Harry would get through his critical condition tonight, he would probably survive. If he wouldn't, Y/N couldn't imagine what would happen.

If Y/N now was sitting beside Harry's bed and watching every inch of this man in front of her. His family was outside giving her time to see her ex-boyfriend.

She slowly took Harry's free hand and hold it tight. Her wistful eyes stared straight at him who still sleeping soundlessly. Smiling sadly, she could still sense the confused and panicked feeling ran through her body when she was leaving her hotel room and rushed to meet Niall who was waiting for her in the lobby.

The poor man got a slap from her when she thought he was lying and joking around. But, when he said it with a serious face, almost screaming at her, Y/N knew Niall wasn't joking. She felt that was real when he grabbed her hand quickly and pushed her into his car. They didn't have much time. Niall was driving fast, with her still dumbfounded. She felt even more dumbfounded when she realised she just wore shorts and a baggy shirt. But her jacket was likely saved her from such an inappropriate clothing choice.

“You can do it, H.” whispered her, taking his hand to rub her cheek, “Get better, please.”

Y/N knew everyone wouldn't sleep tonight waiting for him to go through his critical moment. It was almost four in the morning, only a few hours until the doctor could say that he was successful and she couldn't wait for it.

“I feel bad that I'm the one who sitting here and not your mother. But, that's okay. Anne should take a rest, as well as your family." she hummed, her eyes constantly glancing at the machine displaying the rhythm of his heartbeat.

Normal..

“I haven't told you that I like the flowers. The one that you sent me on my birthday. They were beautiful, H.”

“I also sent you a sunglasses for your birthday. Did you like it? Because I heard no words from you.” she sighed, “I know it's not Gucci but I think it suits you.”

Y/N chuckled slightly, looking at his bare fingers. “They removed your rings? Or, you didn't wear any?

“Why were you driving drunkenly, H? You told me once that you avoid that it as much as possible." she frowned, "Was it Marcel? I–"

Weird.

She heard a strange sound.

Her eyes stared at Harry who was still unconscious. Then, who made that sound? It was just both of them there.

Suddenly, the colour on her face was drained out like she just realised something. No, she didn't want to say that. She didn't want to lift her head or averted her gaze. Her vision still fixated on Harry who looked so calm in his deep sleep.

No...

No way.

Y/N flicked her head to where the machine was, only finding that his heartbeat was flat line.

Flat.

No rising or falling charts.

Like before.

No.

“No!”

The chair she was sitting on, fell backwards when she stood up and immediately grabbed Harry's shoulders, shaking him as hard as possible.

“Harry? Harry! Harry, please!”

Her finger quickly pressed the emergency button and again tried to wake him who she knew was impossible. Her mind was chaotic, it felt like her brain was paralyzed to digest everything, her hands were shaking and sweaty and so cold. She hed never panicked and feared this much.

“Harry..”

Her voice was shaking, head began to feel dizzy. Her eyes began to blur because of the tears that were ready to flood, and repeatedly stared at the machine and Harry's face back and forth.

The line was still flat.

And Harry still had no movement.

She couldn't help it. Finally, she let the tears fell down her face. Sobbing violently, her inner goddess was cursing the doctor who hadn't come yet.

“Harry, please. Wake up! Don't do this!" she whispered, stroking his face which still felt warm under her fingertips.

Why were they taking so long!?

She choked in a sob, "Harry, please. Please. We're not doing this!"

“Don't die on me, please!" screamed her in agony. She couldn't bear the thought she lost him. She didn't want to lose him. Not now, not later, not ever.

“H,” she cried, holding Harry's head and stroking his hair softly. “No, please. Don't – don't.. leave me. I – I can't.. lose – lose you. Please.”

“I'm so – sorry that .. that I haven't – haven't said that. I forgive you, H.”

“I'm sorry – sorry for.. everything. You're – you're not... the only one was – was wrong." she cried harder, "I shouldn't – shouldn't … given up on you."

She shook her head, didn't want to accept the reality that had happened. Harry couldn't die. He wouldn't.

“Harry, please.” she once again shook his limp body. The sound of the machine that had been her nightmare now was filling her head, it got louder and louder and made her nauseous. They were still flat, and Y/N didn't know how long it had been.

“Don't leave me, Harry. Don't leave your mother, your sister. And everyone who loves you.” she stammered, eyes squeezed tightly.

With shaking shoulder, Y/N stroked his jaw and brought her mouth closer to his ear, "I love you, don't do this to me, please. We still have so much together. I love you, H.."

She flinched when the door opened suddenly and a nurse tugged her gently so the doctor could check on him. She couldn't hear what they were telling her. All she knew, the next second she got out from the room with tears flowing profusely and body shaking. From her blurry vision, she could see Clementia and Niall approaching her. She shook her head, was speechless and head was spinning and ears ringing badly. The last thing she felt, her body fell to the floor. . . . .

Two years later.

Y/N's tasks that day almost made her head explode, plus her co-worker being uncooperative doubled her irritation. She knew, working in an international financial institution had its perks. Her previous job was nothing compared to now. Not that she underestimated them all, yet this was the first time she felt her energy and mind really drained out. Moreover, she would likely to travel to Washington D.C to attend conferences, a lot.

“Yes, yes. Send them all to me by tomorrow afternoon. Thanks, Bobby!” Y/N gave her co-worker thumb out before waltzed out from the meeting room, heading to her office.

“Tough day, Y/N?” Sienna wiggled her eyes, teasing Y/N who just entered the break room to grab a drink first. Y/N just nodded, filling up her tumbler with mineral water.

“Everyone almost gets my nerves today," she murmured, "Plus, I just landed from New York last night and the jetlag was a nightmare. I couldn't sleep during the flight and my eyes wouldn't let me rest."

“Lucky for you, it's Friday! And, I think your fiance won't mind to help you to get relax for the rest of weekend." Sienna winked her eyes, "Don't be so tense, Y/N!" and leaving Y/N alone with a bursting laugh.

Y/N shook her head, leaving the break room unoccupied since she had a lot to do and must be finished today. When she got her office, she found a bouquet of her favourite flowers with her favourite chocolate bar. Chuckled giddily, she closed the door behind her and walked closer to her desk. Her manicured fingers picked up the card laid on top his desk, her eyes immediately recognised the familiar handwriting.

Hard day? I hope you love the flowers and enjoy the chocolate bar. I know you're on a dairy diet but nothing is better than seeing you happy.

Ps: I made a reservation at the Royal Lancaster tonight, 8 p.m sharp. Your darling fiance

Fiance.

He always knew how to made her smile even at any time. Smiling softly, Y/N grabbed the flowers and smelt them before putting at the vase. Her hand then took the chocolate while turning on her computer,  but when she saw the ring on her fourth finger on her left hand, her memory pulled her back when he popped the question.

They were in Switzerland for Christmas holiday. It was when the Christmas morning, and was snowing heavily. She had just made them hot chocolate since they stayed at the Bernese Alps and the cold was crazy, and he told her it was the time to open their presents. At that time, she didn't have the clue if the proposal being her present.

When he pulled the red box out and slid it open, her eyes fixated to the ring sat on the cushion. It was the Cartier platinum ring paved with diamonds cut. That shiny and beautiful thing caught her attention, ignored him who knelt in front of her. When Y/N just realised it, she quickly jolted and gasped – closing her gaping mouth. Even though he proposed her with simple words, she knew that her man was nervous as hell because his hands were shaking while holding the ring.

With an ugly sob, Y/N nodded meekly and said yes to his proposal.

What a beautiful moment.

She chuckled lightly and then returning to her work, excited to get them done as she couldn't wait to meet him. Five days in New York made her missed her fiance so much.

Later that evening, Y/N succeed to have her task done by 6. She hurriedly shut down her computer and took her things to immediately meet her fiance who was waiting in the parking lot, even made Sienna teased her in such a haste. Her smile grew bigger after spotting a silver Porsche in the VIP section. Wasting no time, she jogged to the car and opened the door.

“Hello, there.”

“Hi,” she waved at him and get in, “I'm sorry for taking to long.”

“Looks like you did have a hard day."

Y/N hummed, closing the door and putting the safety belt. Then, she turned her head to him and grabbed his neck to land a kiss on his plump lips. The fiance himself happily savouring her lips like it was the only antidote in the universe. The kiss only lasted for a few seconds before she pulled back, grinning at him. "Thank you for the flowers and chocolate. I love it."

He chuckled, wiping her wet lips affectionately, “Glad to hear that. Shall we go now?”

“Sure.”

She leaned back to the seat as the car moving down to the street, sighed happily because she finally could relax after a full day of stress plus the lacking of sleep.

“Is there anything special that you take me out for fancy dinner tonight?” asked her while looking at her fiance. A little smile formed on her lips while caught her fiance was so focused behind the steering wheel.

“Eh, no. Why?” he asked back, throwing her a quick glance.

She shrugged, “I'm wondering. I mean.. it's not saturday night.”

He chuckled, “Is it a crime that I take my fiancee to have a dinner not on saturday night?”

“Heyy..”

“Little birdie told me that you pissed all day long. So, I think a nice dinner will cheer you up.”

“How thoughtful of you.” she grinned, “Thank you, though.”

“I'm doing my best.”

If her fiance hadn't realised yet, Y/N kept her eyes on him all the journey. She found that the way he drove was so endearing. Especially when he was biting his lips or licked them while waiting for the red light. While his right hand remained on the wheel, his left hand never left her grasp unless he had to shift the gear.

“Why did you keep staring at me?” he questioned, even though they had been together for a long time, but such a small gesture still made him nervous.

“Why do I find a man is so attractive when he's driving,” she whispered, “Especially you.”

“Don't start, darling. We're in the middle of street right now.”

“I'm not.” she widened her eyes, “Do you think I was.. teasing you?”

“Obviously,” he snickered, “If not, you wouldn't squeeze your thighs together, darling.”

How obvious he did know that?

“We don't want to be late because I fucked you at the gas station over there, do we?” he smirked, “We just have forty-five minutes to get there.”

“Challenge accepted. We both know you can finish me in twenty minutes anyway, H.” . . . .

Harry felt numb.

The second he opened his eyes, the lights blinded his eyes and made him wonder if he was in heaven. Yet, he breathed in relieved when his gaze sharpened and he heard the beeping machine beside him. His suspicion strengthened when he lifted his hand and finding an IV stuck in his hand.

He was in a hospital.

And he was survived.

Then, the door bursting open quietly made him turned his head, looking at Anne who just entered with a shocked face. A relief radiated from the eyes of the woman who gave birth to him.

“Mum?”

His throat was sore along with hoarse voice, but he made it clear that he was fine by flashing his mother a small smile.

“Oh, Harry.” Anne mewled, stepping closer to her son, “You're awake.” and peppering kiss on his cheek.

“I am.”

“How do you feel? You're pretty banged up.” Anne stroked his unruly hair while sitting on the chair beside his bed.

“My body hurts, but it's okay. I'm fine.”

Anne gave him apologetically smile, “Okay, then. I'll call the doctors so they can check your condition.”

Harry was checked up not long after that. The doctor said he had improved and could go home within a week. He was being told that he was lucky because the car crash was quite fatal yet he had no serious injuries, jut a few stitches on the temples. But, he was quite surprised when Anne said that he had lost his heartbeat for a while.

He didn't know how long he had been asleep. The last time he was awake when Clementia was out for lunch and left him alone in the room. He loved to sleep, but he hated the pain hammering his head when he just woke up.

“Fuck.” he mumbled while touching his bandaged head.

“Is it hurt? Do I need to call the doctor?”

He never snapped his head that fast, was surprised to hear the voice he missed so much. He felt he was hallucinating when he saw Y/N looking at him worriedly.

“Y/N?”

“Hi, Harry.” she said timidly, “How are you feeling?”

“Hi.”

Harry didn't know how to feel. He was happy, but on the other hand, he also confused. During Y/N talked to him, he couldn't focus. Not only his head still feel dizzy, he felt like he was high on drugs. Everything felt like floating.

“I'm sorry it took me almost lost you to realise how wrong I was.” Y/N fumbled her fingers, “I'm too late to say I've forgiven you.”

“It's okay, Y/N. I understand.” Harry exhaled, “It's not your fault alone.”

“Why were you driving drunk?” seeing the hesitant on his eyes, Y/N felt bad and changed the topic, “It's okay if you don't want to talk about it. I just.. worried.”

“Marcel was drunk, and took the opportunity to have one night stand with a striptease dancer there. I couldn't let it happen. So, I tried to take over and quickly left." he sighed, "Even it was him who was drunk, I would also get drunk when I got over the body."

“And why would you choose to take over?”

“Because I don't want to disappoint you, Y/N.” he admitted while looking through at her eyes, “I knew if.. if that happened, you would hate me even more.”

“Harry.." Y/N whispered, "If.. if that really happened, it wasn't your fault. It was Marcel. Even though you and him are one, you both are still different and I have to understand that. Not all his fault should I blame on you. If I can understand you, I should be able to understand him too."

“It's impossible, Y/N. No one would accept a disorder like me.”

“You're not a disorder, Harry. You're just different and special... "

“... If I can love you, I have to love him too.”

It caught him off guard.

Did he hear correctly?

He didn't mishear, did he?

Y/N smiled softly seeing Harry who looked dumbfounded, staring at her like she just grew an antler. Then, she grabbed his free hand and rubbed his knuckle, "I'm sorry for the long waiting. I'm sorry it took me almost losing you to realise that I love you."

“When did you first know?” his voice was barely audible, he couldn't believe his voice to speak. It was more like his soul spoke for him.

“I always knew.”

Harry laughed, and laughed. Until a single tear rolled down his lids. He was never this happy, he could never be this relieved. His love wasn't unrequited. He loved her, and she loved him.

His free hand brought her face closer to him, landing a short kiss on his love lips. She grinned widely and kissed him back.

“I love you," he spoke quietly and rubbing their nose together, "Very much."

“I love you, too much.” and she kissed his jaw.

“Harry?" she pulled back, "Why did you give up? Why didn't you care about your life at that time? Your family was worried sick.”

Harry's shoulder slumped back, “I was.. I was so depressed because.. I thought you didn't want me around anymore. I felt helpless, I thought my life has no meaning anymore. That's why I don't want to face the truth.”

“And thinking it was the best if Marcel was present?” she shook her head, “You have more right to this life, H.”

“Honestly, I wanted to wait. I didn't care if the wait would cost a million years. But, the wait was worth it because I'm in love.”

Y/N never saw this vulnerable side on him, and it was surprised her. She never thought someone like him, was so fragile yet tough at the same time. She smiled at him while rubbing his cheek.

“How's Marcel?" asked her carefully. She was quite curious about Marcel because he was the master of Harry's body lately. What did he feel, for now?

“I don't know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don't feel his presence anymore. He's not weakened, though.”

“He's just.. not there?”

“He's gone.”

. . THE END What did you think?

[tomspancakes]

This Way: Part 4

*not my gif*

Pairing: Tom Holland x Actress! reader

Word Count: 3580

Warnings: still a crazy ass bih lol. I can’t stop with the drama sorryyy

Summary: Y/n starts noticing how weird Tom is being and decides to confront him.

A/N: I think I’m going to post two days in a row then have one day off, but like a sis is nearing the end of her school year so let’s hope I stick with it haha. Please lmk if you’re enjoying this/ have any constructive criticism. ALSO I need help like ded ass don’t know if I’m stupid or if it’s tumblr’s fault, but when I tag people some of the tags don’t work :/ BUT don’t hesitate to ask to be a part of the tag list :) 

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

+++

*week and a half before lock down*

You opened the door to the flat exhausted after a long day of filming and walked into the living room to see Tom busy on his laptop. He looked up, 

“Oh hi, y/n.” He shut his laptop and stood up, you gave him a strange look.

“Leaving already? Do I smell or something?” You joked and flopped on the couch. Tom has been acting really strange with you after the dinner with his family. Lately he’s been leaving you alone whenever one of the boys got up to leave as well. ‘Was he feeling awkward about being friends?’ you thought to yourself. 

“Oh no no you don’t smell. You always smell nice,” He blushed because he said too much, “Just need to work on this script, Harry’s been on my ass about it.” He said and began to walk away before you could reply.

“What? Not even gonna ask how my day was... you know like a friend?” You teased and Tom sighed and squeezed his eyes shut and turned around

“How was your day, y/n?”

“It was long, tiring, and someone was really rude to me on the set.” You sighed and waited for him to sit back down so he could listen, but he never did, “Ok then… how about your day, Tom?” This was starting to get awkward, 

“Didn’t really do anything, just ate and worked on the first act of the movie, which still isn’t done so if you’ll excuse me I’m going to my room now.” He said quickly, turning around again walking away.

“How rude. ‘Ya let’s be friends, y/n, it’ll be fun.’” You grumbled and mimicked him in an annoyed voice. Tom heard and felt really bad to pretend he didn’t.

-

You were now sitting on Harry’s bed watching him edit his short film and eating ice cream, he listened to how your day went,

“And oh my god one of the stunt fighter guys was being a straight up asshole,” You rolled your eyes eating another spoonful of ice cream,

“How so?” Harry asked

“Well I kept messing up this one stunt where I was in heels and we ended up filming it 7 times. I mean I felt bad for wasting time, but that was until the dickhead said, ‘I don’t even know why they casted you, it’s a simple stunt just get this shit down already so we can move on!’” You said in a deep voice mimicking the guy, “I was so embarrassed, but thankfully Ryan stood up for me. Still ruined my day though.”

“What the hell? What kinda asshole-,” He got up from his spot on the bed all riled up, “Who is this guy? I’m gonna end him. Does he even realize how damn hard it is to do a stunt in heels?” You laughed at Harry’s protectiveness, “Tom literally took half a day to film one stunt and he wasn’t in heels!” You shrugged.

“Sit your ass back down. Thanks for trying to protect me, but everything will be fine, I’m strong. It’s business gotta suck it up.” He rolled his eyes and jumped on you with a bear hug. You laughed and tried to push him off of you, but he was too heavy. 

“Harry, you bitch, I can’t breathe.”

“I just want to protect my best friend.” He said before letting you go and going back to editing.

“Speaking of Tom, have you noticed that he’s avoiding me?” You asked quickly.

“Huh? I haven’t noticed anything of the sort. I mean you guys are both really busy right now aren’t you?” You nodded and rested your head on Harry’s shoulder,

“I mean I guess, but haven’t you noticed like yesterday when you left the kitchen Tom rushed a bit to leave also?” 

“Oh yeah I forgot about that, it was quite strange now that I think about it.” 

“Yeah Tom’s been doing that to me ever since we left your parents’ house. And when I got home today I tried to talk to him about my day, because you know I thought he’s my friend, and he just said he really needed to work on the script and left to his room!”

“Hmm, I did tell him to finish the first act by tomorrow, but he’s been working in the living room all day. Said something about his room being more of a distraction. Also it’s not like Tom to leave without hearing someone out. He always listens.” You just sighed,

“I guess he thinks it’s still weird to be friends. I tried, sorry, Harry.”

“Please don’t give up just yet, y/n, maybe he’s just stressed or something. You know I wouldn’t want to pick sides.” You nodded and started to drift off to sleep and felt Harry remove the bowl from your lap.

-

“Y/n, love, wake up.” you were being shaken by Harry.

“Huh? Oh sorry, did I fall asleep?” You asked groggily and he laughed,

“Yeah and I finished editing the short film!” You jumped up no longer tired anymore.

“Oh my god yay, Harry! Can I see it now pleaseeee?” You jumped up and down on the bed.

“Tomorrow, love, it’s 1 am now and I want to show everyone in the house at the same time.” You pouted and he laughed.

“Fine then be like that. But I’m proud of you.” You hugged him, “Good night, Harry, can’t wait to see the finished product!” 

“Night, love.” He chuckled and you walked out with your empty dish.

You pulled out your phone and opened the Instagram app to see that Tom posted something on his story about 30 minutes ago. It was a picture of the script and his foot captioned, “Working on something big, like my big toe.” You giggled a bit and muttered, “Idiot.” The next story post was from Tuwaine, it was a picture you all took together after breakfast when Tom burnt himself. You were laying across the boys’ laps and Tom was happily looking down at your smiling face. It was captioned, “If lock down happens, it’ll be a real party with these people.” You smiled and reposted it to your story.

As soon as you reached the kitchen you saw Tom sitting at the counter and typing away on his laptop.

“Hey, Tom, still working?” Tom jumped at the sound of your voice.

“Jesus, don’t scare me like that. And yes I couldn’t sleep, b-but I think I’m getting tired now.” He was about to close his laptop and leave, but you stopped him. 

“Oh my god… I’m just gonna put my dish in the sink and leave.” His frazzled expression turned to a relaxed one and he sat back down typing again, refusing to look at you. You began to walk away then felt the urge to ask,

“Tom, a-are you avoiding me?” It came out quieter than you thought, you felt vulnerable. He stopped typing for a brief moment when you asked.

“No, definitely not. Why’d you think that?” You walked back to the counter and stood across him leaning on the surface.

“I’ve been noticing that you're in a rush to leave the room when we’re alone…” Tom continued to type, but incorrectly because of his nerves. 

“Oh, I-I’m sorry, love, didn’t mean for you to think that. I’m just busy is all, I promise.” He said and pointed at the laptop.

“Too busy to hear your friend rant about her day?” You asked and he sighed. His heart dropped when you called yourself his friend.

“I’m afraid so, love. Now why don’t you go sleep don’t you have to film tom-” You cut him off getting tired of the excuses,

“Tom cut the shit, I know you’re avoiding me and I don’t get why.” Tom sighed as you rambled and he put his laptop to the side because he wasn’t getting anything done, “I really appreciate you letting me stay here, but shouldn’t we at least talk a little bit? I mean I was ready to be friends with you for Harry’s sake and then we talked at the dinner and then I was genuinely ready to start off on a new foot. I’ve been trying so hard to reach out to you and you’re literally avoiding me now. Like are you even trying at all? Because I don’t-” Your eyes began to water. Tom got too frustrated and cut you off,

“Y/n I can’t talk about this right now. Please, it’d be better if we discussed this another time.”

“What the hell? Are you being serious? You were a dick when we broke up, you were a dick when I tried to reach out to you, and now you’re being a dick for putting our so called ‘friendship’ on ho-”

“Y/n, stop! Ok? I get it. You can call me a dick and an asshole whatever you want, but this is all for you! Everything I do is for you or because of you! So just leave me the fuck alone, please.” His voice cracked when he said the last sentence. 

“What the hell are you talking about? What are you doing for me?” You stared at him confused.

“I can’t say anything, it’s for the best. Just drop it.” You looked at one another, tears threatening to fall out of Tom’s eyes, you hadn’t noticed you were already crying.

“No. I’m not gonna leave until you tell me what’s going on, Tom. I care for you and I want to be here for you, just tell me what’s going on please.” He looked at you and furrowed his brows making tears stream down his cheeks, it hurt to see you so sad especially since he caused it. He turned around in distress and brushed his hands through his hair before turning back to you. He looked into your eyes and sighed knowing there was no way out of this situation.

“I’ve been avoiding you because I told Allana you’re my ex.” 

“Ok and what’s so ba-”

“Let me finish, y/n, please.” You apologized softly.

“I told her not to tell anyone because I didn’t want to break the promise of letting the world know that we dated. A-and she threatened to spill the secret if I didn’t stay away from you. She said if I ever told anyone about what she said or if she ever saw me close to you again she’d expose us right away. I-I didn’t want to jeopardize our friendship because I decided to be honest to my two-faced girlfriend.” All this information hit you like a train.

“Wow, what. a. fucking. Bitch.” You said stunned, Tom scoffed.

“I feel like an idiot for not listening to the boys and not seeing the red flags.” He sat back down and put his head in his hands. 

“Hey don’t worry, I didn’t notice anything either. Hell I tried to help her. Maybe we’re too gullible…” What you said didn’t really help so Tom began to sob a bit. You walked over to his side and put a hand on his forearm so that he could look at you. His heart was racing at your touch.

“Look, I know Allana is bat shit crazy, but…” You paused thinking if this was a good thing to tell him, “I uh I don’t think I can have you avoiding me all the time, I want you in my life,” He looked up at you surprised, “a-as a friend.” His heart dropped, was that all you were ever going to see him as? A damn friend? 

“Ok, but Allana will tell everyone, and I know how much you care about your privacy.” He said with a stuffy nose, you grabbed a tissue for yourself and Tom.

“I know, but we’ll figure out a way. We were clever enough to hide a 6 month relationship.” You smiled, but you both felt sad when you mentioned your past. He got up and wrapped you in his arms tightly. You swayed back and forth as you felt wet droplets fall on the top of your head, and you soaked Tom’s white t-shirt. You both weren’t crying only because of what just happened, but because you missed one another in a way that words can’t explain. You let out the tears you didn’t cry from when Tom didn’t respond to you and remembered the nights you’d go through old pictures of you and him alone. Tom was crying out all the tears he wanted to let out when he saw that picture of you and Gavin and from the nights that he craved your touch. He tightened his arms around you like it was the last time he’d ever see you. 

“Allana might be watching from outside the window, I’m gonna let you go now.” You said and Tom chuckled sadly letting you go, “We’ll talk about what we can do about this situation in the morning or another time.” You smiled kindly at Tom and he nodded. Tom grabbed your hand softly before you could walk away and pulled you close. You gulped because of how close you were to him,

“Thanks for being so kind, sleep well. Goodnight, y/n.” You smiled and replied,

“Thanks for being more kind to me. Goodnight.” You gave him one last hug and walked away feeling relieved while Tom still felt guilty despite what you said. He still felt like he needed to do more.

-

You woke up at 8 AM feeling a lot happier for some reason. Maybe it was because you cleared things up with Tom last night or because you were going to film a really exciting scene today with some new people. 

You walked into the kitchen, “Goodmorning boys!” You said enthusiastically walking up behind where Harry was seated and gave him a hug from behind.

“Ew why’re you happy?” Harry asked, still tired. 

“Morning, y/n!!” Tuwaine and Haz said in unison. You grabbed a bowl and poured yourself a bowl of cereal.

“Harry, when are we gonna watch your film, I can’t wait any longer.” You complained.

“Maybe when you come back from set, I want to go back to sleep after I eat.”

“Ugh you’re so lazy.” You joked, “where’s Tom, isn’t he usually up by now?”

Tuwaine looked at the other boys then at you apologetically, “He uh left around 5 this morning.”

“Oh for an early workout or something?” You asked, taking a bite of cereal.

“No,” Tuwaine cleared his throat, “to Berlin, Germany.” You choked on your cereal. 

“Wait what, you’re joking I thought he leaves in 3 days.” 

“I don’t know exactly why he left, something about needing a few days for himself before filming. Which I understand because he’s been working hard.” Haz said and you furrowed your brows, was it because of what happened last night? Harry noticed your concern.

“Y/n, do you know exactly why he left?” You wanted to tell him, but you couldn’t. If the boys found out what Allana said they’d definitely do something about it and you couldn’t let that happen. You shook your head,

“Nope, I’m just as confused as you are.” You said coolly.

-

“Are you sure you don’t know what was making Tom stressed?” Harry asked as he pulled up in front of the studio.

“Ya, I’m sure. He’s avoiding me, remember?” It pained you to lie to Harry like that, but you weren’t sure if you were ready to let the world know you and Tom dated. Harry looked like he didn’t believe you, but he let it go.

“Ok then… Text or call when you need me to pick you up.” You thanked him again for dropping you off and walked to the set. You saw Lana and walked with her,

“Hey, babes, did you see the text from Melissa?” You shook your head no. Melissa was in charge of scheduling which scenes would be filmed every day, “She said everyone needed to meet at crafty’s before going to sound stage 32.” 

“Really? Why?” 

“Not quite sure, but there’s been rumors that filming will be postponed.” Lana said sadly.

“Wait, you’re joking.” She shrugged and shook her head as you guys entered the food tent, everyone already looking disappointed.

“Hi everyone, as many of you know Covid-19 was just announced as a world wide pandemic and we’ve just been shut down from shooting anymore scenes at least for two weeks.” Melissa said everyone groaning, “Yes I know this sucks, but please stay safe and healthy while we’re shut down. If you have a trailer here please make sure you clear all your things out because there will be a cleaning team here in two days to…” You drowned Melissa’s voice out

“Just when I thought this day couldn’t get any worse…” You sighed and dropped your head on Lana’s shoulder and she patted your head.

“Lastly make sure you all stay in the same shape you are in now, so nothing looks different when we resume shooting.” Melissa hopped off the table and everyone began to clear out to get their things. You called Harry telling him the sad news. 

-

“I’m so upset, Harry, today sucks.” He patted your thigh as he made a right turn.

“It’ll be ok, love. I’m sure you will go back to filming in no time and you’ll actually miss having a break.” You just leaned your head on the window wondering if Tom at least made it safely to Berlin, and in that exact moment your phone pinged. 

Tom: Hi, y/n, I assume the boys have already told you that I left for Berlin. I just landed. I’m really sorry for not giving a warning, but the space is for the best. I hope you can understand xx

You were upset with everything and everyone at this point and Tom’s text just ruined your mood more. How does he know what’s best for you? Mad and feeling petty you texted back,

You: k.

Tom: Please, trust me, y/n. This will help out our situation.

You: Last time I checked running away from your problems never helps the situation.

You threw your phone back into your purse annoyed.

“Oh shit, what the fuck is she doing here?” Harry asked, displeased. You looked up to see Allana pulling into the driveway just before you and Harry did. 

“Great. Just fucking great. Harry, I think I’m gonna scream.”

“I think I will too. Can we just drive around until she’s gone?”

“That would be nice, but I think she already spotted us and won’t leave.” You pointed at her going to sit down on the porch. Harry groaned and pulled into the driveway. As soon as you and Harry stepped out the car she stood up and barked,

“Where the hell is Tom? He hasn’t texted me since yesterday afternoon, today is our 5 month anniversary.” Well that makes things more complicated. Harry looked at you with wide eyes, “What? Why’re you looking at her like that? Did you have something to fucking do with this, y/n?” She said giving you the dirtiest look ever. ‘Bitch I hope it wasn’t because of me.’ You thought. Harry got closer to you in protective mode.

“No no I swear. We were all surprised to see Tom gone this morning.”

“Gone? Where the hell is he?” 

“He went to Berlin early. Now if you’ll excuse us we’d like to relax in our home.” Harry said not letting you talk, almost standing in front of you now. You both began to walk past her, but she squeezed your arm tight and yanked you back. You winced in pain.

“You bitch what did you do? Don’t even think about fucking lying to me.” Her eyes burned into your soul.

“Allana, what the fuck you’re crazy! back off!” Harry said, pulling you back behind him, “I suggest you leave now before things get more ugly.” He said in the most intimidating way possible.

“Ok, but the only thing ugly about this is whatever y/n did with Tom. I don’t doubt for a second that you’re a stupid whore. I saw that photo of you laying on him last night, and I’ve seen how you flirt with Tom you sk-”

“Allana that’s enough, go now!” Harry yelled and she looked surprised. She glared at you before stepping back, “Stay the fuck away from Tom he doesn’t need your ugly ass all over him.” “Allana, sweetie, we live in the same house. Quite dumb of you to think we can really stay away from one another.” You laughed darkly as tears of anger welled up in your eyes.

“Ok then, cunt. Go near him, I dare you. You have no idea what I’m capab-”

“Allana, I said fucking leave!” Harry was tired of this shit. Allana scoffed and finally drove away.

Harry turned to you cradling you in his arms as you let tears fall down your face, “I hate today…” you hiccuped, “a lot.” 

“I know, I know.” He cooed. You looked up at him, “I know something is up, y/n. You need to tell me why my brother really left so I can help you.” You sighed and nodded.

“Ok let’s get you cleaned up.” He kept you close to his side and you both walked in. Tom was so wrong thinking him leaving would solve anything.

+++

Tag list:  @averyfosterthoughts​ @thollandx​ @mrsjeffwittek​ @panicattheeverywherekid​ @racewife2004​ @greatpizzascissorstaco​ @witchything​ @wheelertozier​ @runway-to-my-aid​ @rafficorn @jessirosebud​ @peterspideyy​ @superstarchick​ @jackiehollanderr​  @astridcommings @mineymak712 @hollands-osterfield​ @inhumanwithpowers​

[duckduck-buck]

Puppy meets Human Puppy

This is one of the works I’ve posted on my AO3, it’s pretty short and not my usual style, but I started appreciating that kind of light writing a lot more! I don’t know how formatting  on tumblr works so hopefully I didn’t fuck it up! You can definitely go and read it on AO3 if you prefer of course, the formatting is better there.

.

Princeton is a happy bastard. He’s the happiest bastard around and Eddie is pretty sure that if he continues grinning like that he’s going to explode. 

They are on a scene, a minor emergency that isn’t dangerous for any of them. The caller is already being taken cared of by Hen and Chimney, Bobby is talking with passerby and supervising the scene and Buck and Princeton are all cosy. The blond firefighter has the prettiest smile on his face, he’s literally glowing and Eddie feels blessed by that sight. Seriously. However, Princeton is here, receiving all of Buck’s attention—which, rude.

Eddie hates it with a passion. He would have preferred to be the one receiving that smile because that’s how it should be. It’s written in the books, the stars, somewhere. Princeton is not supposed to be in the equation. It’s supposed to be Buck + Eddie not Buck + Princeton and right now it’s all wrong. He knows it, Princeton knows it, Hen and Chim—judging by the smirks he can sense— know it, Bobby knows it, everyone but Buck, bless his heart, knows. 

So why the hell is Princeton getting what Eddie should be getting? It does not make any sense whatsoever and he won’t stand for it. But he refuses to make it obvious, knowing it would make Buck frown, or worse, notice, so he glares. He glares so hard that if eyes could kill, Princeton would have died at least ten times and then combusted in fire, but they don’t so the fucker is safe.

Anyway, Princeton is a lucky, smug and happy little bastard, as well as an attention stealer and Eddie wants him gone.

Fuck.

Of course, he would be jealous of a stupid dog.

Ah, yes. Did you know Princeton was a puppy?

.

Puppy meets human puppy

.

It’s stupid. It’s completely, ridiculously stupid. And maybe a little sad too. That’s what Chim tells Eddie once they arrived to the firehouse, Princeton in tow. The puppy is happily playing with their human disaster downstairs. Bobby, Hen, Chimney and Eddie are all seated at the table, talking. Or more like the other three are talking and Eddie is brooding. Now that’s something he would totally deny if asked because Eddie Diaz does not pout or brood. Never. 

Chimney and Hen and Bobby—which, once again, rude—are mocking him, he can feel it. They are totally being little shits, something he will never say out loud, and laughing about his pain. No. Eddie is not being dramatic. Eddie Diaz does not do dramatics, that’s Chim’s and Buck’s scene. He really is in pain. 

“It’s a dog, a puppy. What did you expect?”, Hen isn’t even looking at him, the magazine in her hand more interesting than whatever is going on with him.

“Right? Buck is almost a puppy himself, they were bound to like each other.”, Chimney adds with a teasing smile.

“Princeton is a golden retriever.”, Bobby finishes, as if it means anything. It kind of does.

“He’s a nuisance that’s what he is.”

“Now I know you don’t mean that Eddie, that’s just the jealousy speaking.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Sure.”

Buck appears before he can answer, that pretty smile still on his face and maybe, just maybe, Eddie softens just a little. Maybe.

The blond rounds the table, pats Eddie’s shoulder and flops down in the chair beside him. He steals the cup of coffee in front of his best friend and take a sip.

“You know you could have just, I don’t know, made one?”, Eddie says with a smile.

“I could have but why do that when you made one I could steal?”

Hen and Chimney both snort and Bobby has that soft, teasing smile of his. They all know. Eddie always makes a cup of coffee, not for himself, but for Buck. No he never told him it was for him, he will never tell him. What Buck doesn’t know won’t kill him. Eddie is perfectly fine with letting him ‘steal it’. 

The moment is broken by a small bark, and seconds after, Princeton is there, looking at Buck with his big brown eyes. The blond is won over and already out of his chair, dropping on the floor to pet the happy golden retriever. He didn’t even finish the coffee. 

Eddie hates Princeton. 

“Who’s a good boy? You’re a good boy right Prince? You’re the best boy.”

Buck adores him. 

.

It’s Friday night. Bobby and Athena invites everyone over for a small gathering. Everyone is here. Karen is animatedly talking with Athena, Hen is holding Nia while she catches up with Maddie and May. The children are all running around outside. Bobby and Michael are also outside and Chimney is with Eddie, beers in hand. 

Buck would have normally been right with them, being his happy, loud self and bickering with Chimney at any given chance but no, the man is too busy paying attention to Princeton. Yes. The dog is also here. Eddie doesn’t know how Buck managed to convince Athena to let Princeton at her house. In fact he doesn’t even know why his best friend thought it was a good idea to bring him over but it’s too late to wonder now. The attention stealer is already here and he’s already getting all the Buck love. 

At this moment, Eddie doesn’t only hate Princeton, he also hates Athena’s soft spot for Buck, his friends perceptiveness—because he knows they all know—and Buck’s love for the dog. 

Eddie is definitely jealous of a dog and it’s not pathetic.

(Except that it kind of is and he knows that.)

They soon get to the table for dinner and the golden retrieved, aka Eddie’s arch nemesis, is forced to stay outside, which, good. Buck does pout, but Athena’s soft spot for Buck has a limit and she doesn’t let his puppy dog eyes fool her. If she gives him an extra big slice of pie when they get to the dessert, it’s nobody’s business but hers.

If you must know, during the dinner, most of Buck’s attention was on Eddie and Christopher. Of course, Eddie basked in it, accepted each smiles as the blessings they were, had as much contact with him as he could and talked as much as he could without looking suspiciously needy for attention. All of this to say that Buck’s attention was on him and not on Princeton. 

Eddie counts it as a win. Take that stupid dog.

.

Princeton is everywhere. At the station, at Buck’s loft, at Maddie’s. Everywhere. Eddie draws the line at having him at his house. And by that he means that he pouts the whole day because one, he’s too weak to say no to Buck, two, Christopher is way too happy when he sees the puppy for the first time and three, the image of Chris, Buck and Princeton all happily messing around outside is precious, so precious and so pure that Eddie wants it to be burnt into his retina. The feeling of being a family is very strong and warms his heart.

Eddie still hates Princeton.

.

Princeton is sad today. Eddie is also sad today. The pathetic picture of sadness they make together is as adorable as it is ridiculous. Chimney is terrible for laughing at the two of them and calling them drama queens—how dare he? He went on a whole rant one day because someone drank the apple juice he had brought. Turns out, he was the one who had drunk it and he had forgotten.—. Hen is terrible for encouraging his behavior and taking not one, not two but multiples pictures of the two of them. Bobby is terrible for not stopping them and for participating in their mockery. Eddie doesn’t know when they corrupted him but they did and he doesn’t like it.

“Look at you two, both missing your best friend!”, Hen is way too happy by the way things are.

“First of all, he’s my best friend. Mine. Not his.”, Eddie points at the dog who has his head in his lap, “Understood dog? Mine, not yours.”

Princeton doesn’t even acknowledge him. He’s too sad for that.

“Wow. And Karen calls me possessive.”

“Let him be Hen, he’s experiencing withdrawal.”

Withdrawal. Yes. Buck withdrawal. The reason of his shared sadness with Princeton is the notable absence of one Evan Buckley. The poor guy is down with a very high fever and a terrible cough. Maddie, who thankfully doesn't have a shift today, is currently with him and keeps them updated via messages on the group chat they all share. Princeton, who was brought this morning by Chimney, and Eddie are the one who are suffering the most, both unused to the blond’s absence. So of course the two would pout.

“You know we get off soon right? The moment our shift is over you can go to Buck and stay with him. I don’t recommend it because I don’t need another sick firefighter but knowing you, you don’t care about my advice. You will have to take Princeton with you though.”

And he does. The moment they get off, he’s racing to his car, Princeton on his tail, under his teammates amused gazes. When he arrives, he meets Maddie at the door. She tells him that her brother is awake, wishes him good luck, pats Princeton’s head and leaves with a wide smile.

Eddie is thankful for his Abuela agreeing to take care of Chris tonight, he knows Buck would have love to see the kid but they will have to wait until he gets better. 

Princeton makes a beeline for the top floor and Eddie follows. He’s greeted by the sight of a grinning Buck, buried under a heavy blanket, running his hands over the overly excited puppy. Buck’s grin widen when he sees him and Eddie is quick to join them. 

Yes, Princeton gets a pat or two from him.

Time passes by, Eddie heats up some soup Maddie made earlier, Princeton eating some dog food not too far from him, and brings it to Buck. They end up talking quietly about everything and anything and they are joined by the golden retriever later on.

Buck’s head drops on Eddie’s shoulder, his eyes are glassy and dropping. He’s tired. Princeton is curled up at the end of the bed, already asleep. Eddie is about to leave them be, still debating between staying and sleeping on Buck’s couch or leaving all together. As if sensing his inner conflict, Buck stops him from going anywhere.

“Stay?”

And how can Eddie say no when he looks at him like that?

They all sleep well that night.

.

Eddie kisses Buck on a Sunday. Princeton is here, so are Christopher and all of their friends.

Eddie kisses Buck on a Sunday and it’s perfect. Everyone is happy and smiling and cheering, and Buck is beaming.

Eddie kisses Buck on a Sunday, Princeton is running around, Bobby is tearing up because that’s his pseudo-son finally getting the love of his life, and Maddie is giving Eddie the most ridiculous and weirdly threatening shovel talk—she can’t stop smiling. Athena is getting money from Chimney and Hen and Karen because she won the bet. 

Eddie kisses Buck on a Sunday and knows he will do it everyday.

He doesn’t hate Princeton anymore, he never really did, and now he gets the attention he always wanted. But he does whisper to the puppy that he won. Because he totally did, fair and square.

Princeton is still a happy bastard.

Eddie + Buck is still the better equation. 

And yes, Eddie + Buck = Love.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Feeling kinda dumb asking this tbh. Not sure if you even watched TVD, but in case you did, you know how Bonnie uses Expression Magic which is considered extreamly dark and powerful form of magic (I mean, she literally destroyed hell!) do you mind writing Freddy x victim!reader oneshot where he mets a witch who also practices Expression and is extreamly powerfull? He tries to kill her at first obviously

Omg, this one started out so light hearted but oh my god.

Don't feel dumb!! Its a good ask!! I do watch TVD, and I hope you like this ^^ 

~~~

I wake up the same way I have for the past 3 weeks. With messy hair, slashes through my favourite pyjama shirt and a finger in my hand- well, it isn’t always a finger. Sometimes its an ear, a portion of his ugly sweater, his hat, once even his eyeball. You get the picture though. Unimpressed, I watch the finger turn to gunky, dirty dust. Then promptly get up and tiredly get out the vacuum cleaner to clean up the mess.

Once I’m done, I put the vacuum back in its cupboard down the hall, which at this point I could totally do just from muscle memory and no other senses due to how often this month I’ve ripped something of Freddy’s back out into the real world in my attempt to take him out and kill him off the clean way.

But, I take a deep breath and let it out, exhausted and resigned, as I pull on pants and search through my closet for a shirt to wear out today. I guess I’m going to have to do it the hard way.

Finally, I discard the ruined shirt and wrench on a clean, yellow t-shirt and leave my house.

___TIME SKIP___

“Hey, Bernard,” I beam towards the grassy haired barista. The café’s basically empty, apart from a group of teenagers watching Netflix and Disney plus on their laptops and phone sin the far corner, so I think we’re fine to talk. He looks up from the mug he was drying out, sees my expression and promptly scoffs. Immediately he starts down the bar, past the glass case with all the sweets inside including a delicious jelly slice with lavender for safety that I get when I come here for breakfast, rounds it, and comes all the way to stand very close to me. He holds up his pointer finger between us sternly, almost mad and I focus instead on his hair rather then his face. It really is grassy- not because he’s been playing footy which he likely was before he came to work and not just because its green. Its messy, and multiple shades of different, environmental green. Representing his element.

“Don’t you dare.”

I sigh, and roll my eyes as I sit down in a bar stool, successfully putting space between us as he doesn’t move. “Its kind of a dire situation.”

“A demon?” He doesn’t look at all like it would change his mind on the subject of my using magic if it were a demon. Which it is.

“Yes.”

“What kind?”

“The kind that draws strength from attention, lets move on.” Again, I roll my eyes. Not at Bernard though, this time its Freddy. Yes, he totally is that kind of demon. Not even just because he needs people to believe he exists to work. He’s just an attention whore.

Bernard crosses his arms and rolls his shoulders back, more than expressing his parents’ shared fire element. And, also, his cranky streak. “You will not use magic.”

“I’ve tried doing it the easy way. I’ll be safe, I promise.”

“I’m not worried about you, I’m worried about your neighbours, and the rest of the known universe if you fuck up. Actually, scratch that. Unknown universe, too.”

“I’m not asking you for permission anyway. Just- come on, gimmie the book.” I hold out my hand, looking around for where he could possibly be hiding it. Cupboards? Behind the cupboards? Has he digitised it? He just continues to glower, and its so forceful that I lower my hand and pout. He’s always been the scary cousin in our family.

“Oh, you so are asking me for permission. You don’t know where the book is!” He sneers, and I deadpan deeply at his immaturity.

“Look, Ber, we’re grown adults. Grown! Ass! Adults! I can make my own decisions, now- where is the book?”

“No!”

“Gimmie!”

“I’m older than you, and I say no!”

“Berrrrrrrr- Oh hi Boyd.” I pause in glaring at my Bernard to look at his brother, Boyd walk by from the upstairs apartment, clipping the vizor attachment to his glasses as he’s going out. He looks boredly at me smiling at him and keeps going to the door with an old-fashioned bell fixed to the top.

“You’re here for the grimoire?” He asks, opening the door and turning over his shoulder, and I nod sweetly- he’s sure to be more helpful! “Yeah, Bernard lost it. Hid it so well even he cant find it anymore. Now, I have a date.” He leaves the, now very tense and cold café with a curt, “Later.”

Slowly… I turn to Bernard. He is now avoiding eyecontact. He misplaced… our families… century old… grimoire??! “Find. It.”

Having a change of heart, he heads behind the counter again with a lowered head. “Oof, I’m on it.”

It must take hours, before I give up looking alongside him and sit down to take a rest. The teenagers have gone by now, and Bernard turned the ‘Open’ sign on the front window around to say ‘Closed’. I don’t know how it happened, but at some point, I rest my head on the bench and the exhaustion from not getting full rest for weeks catches up to me, and I fall asleep.

“Back so soon?”

I jump. “Gah!” Turning around to where the voice came from and I see Freddy- clearly, not in a creative mood because otherwise he wouldn’t have appeared so quick. “Why are you here?!”

“This is my domain, sweetheart.” Freddy explains, something I already knew and he knows I already know and I groan.

“It’s the middle of the day! Can’t I have this one moment to sleep in peace??” A wide smile spreads across his face, and I slouch over. Course not. Oh god, I am so tired. Another yell escapes me though, exhaustion making me incredibly jumpy, when suddenly he appears beside me. Physical form and everything, I can feel the fuzz of his sweater on my arm. “Don’t touch me.” I flash him a glare, not daring him. Definitely not daring him- he’ll take it. Just telling him to back the fuck off because I’m tired not only from his unfaltering ability to keep me busy and working, even when I’m asleep, and also now because my dear older, moronic cousin has lost our grimoire which was entrusted to him, which I need to get rid of Freddy, in order to sleep and actually feel rested!

Oh, my goodddddd, I would do almost anything right now to dream about stupid normal stuff like flying, or running from an encroaching car, or falling. Even falling, which wakes you up. At least I can fall right back to sleep.

“Okay, now, see, if you tell me that, I’ll just wanna do the opposite! ~” The clawed glove nears my face and my right eye twitches, but I stand still there with my arms crossed and glare at it. The rusty, nearly black metal nearing my eyes, reflecting the sharp, gross grin on Freddy’s burnt face.

“So, its opposite day then?” I ask, humouring him because what else are you going to do? When he gets bored, he’s even more dangerous.

“Yep!” Visibly, the stripe sin his sweater switch places so its green and red, and not red and green. He thinks he’s funny.

And, clearly I’m exhausted otherwise I never would’ve fallen for that. “Then please touch me Fredrick.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, raucous laughter escapes him, and he holds his belly as he doubles over and laughs. I groan and dig the heels of my hands into my eyes. I need to wake up. “Out of all the obnoxious murderers out there… “I got the worst of the lot.

“Yep, you got me. Now, let’s stop fucking around shall we? Let’s get to the good stuff!”

“Oh no.” I half groan, half whine in dread and fear. Suddenly, the fact that I fell asleep feels like stupidest move ever- at any time, he might kill me. Its just blind luck that he hasn’t felt like ending the game so far. But he could at any time, including this time.

Freddy disappears again, and I whip around to look for him. My heart starts to beat thunderously in my chest because nothing good has ever occurred when Freddy disappears. I’ve been shot, I’ve been crushed under a stone slab, I’ve been choked with 80’s twisted telephone phone cables- I’ve even been kissed. And every time, I get closer to dying. I lose oxygen, I lose blood, I lose morale. Every time I get hurt, Freddy takes me closer to death then before and I think I’m actually gone this time. He’s bored, I’m not enough anymore, the torture is over.

Which is both a relief and even more horrifying then anything else. Tears cluster in my eyes as time goes by and nothing happens. I just see the boiler room around me, everything tinted red and everything damp and shiny with grease and rust. I don’t want to die.

Suddenly, smoke starts to fill the room. Until I can’t see anything at all except the white in front of me and my hand if I would raise it, but I don’t. I just stay very still, afraid of what’s about to happen. “Fr-Freddy?” I call, weak and disappointing myself. I’m a fucking witch… but that doesn’t really mean much in this world. Not without the spell that I need from the grimoire that’s nowhere to be found. I’m a witch, and I’ve raised to think that means something, means I’m a force to reckoned with, but here I am being reckoned with and I’m useless.

The ground underneath me starts to vibrate, and the smoke slowly starts to clear.

I squint, but I can’t see much through the remaining smoke and the tears shielding my eyes except a bright light.

The vibrating gets worse, and I look down and notice that the smoke has cleared enough at the point to see what beneath my feet, and the realisation of what’s there makes fear swarm throughout every crevice of my being. Mind, body and soul.

Train tracks.

My head snaps up again to see the light, a train, barrelling closer and closer to me. It’s so loud now that I’ve realised, I’m about get his by a fucking steam train, that my ears pop and protest to the pain of it all. The train gets closer and there’s Freddy. The fucker. Wearing a conductor’s uniform and hanging out the side of the driver’s compartment. He grins and waives.

I try to use rational sense and move out of the way, but rope shoots out of the earth between the tracks and twists tightly over my shoes. I try to wrench my feet out of my shoes, panicking now as the train tracks are practically jumping, but the ripe starts to climb… higher and higher up and around my legs and my hip and my arms, until I can’t move at all. It’s so tight I can’t barely even breath- not that I’ll need to for much longer.

I brace myself, and squeeze my eyes shut against the now blinding, all-encompassing brightness of the trains light. And then the train hits-

“FOUND IT!”

I’m wrenched suddenly, and violently from my sleep on the counter and straighten up so vigorously that I nearly slip right off the bar stool. There’s drool on the bench from my sleep, my cheek feels stiff from resting on it for a while, and whip around to look at Bernard who’s standing beside me now with the leather bound, yellow paged book that he’s found. I snatch it from his fingers, dropping it on the bench and start frantically looking through it, eyes still filled with tears and now they start falling. I slap a hand over my mouth, stifling the heavy sob that racks my back and shoulders and mouth from the shock and horror of what just nearly happened. I can still see fuzzy blue dots in my vision from the light, and my nose tingles because the train just touched. It smelled like smoke and coal and that’s still in my nose. Theirs white scrapes on my wrists from the rough rope.

“Y/N,” Bernard touches my arm and I don’t push him off, but I don’t respond, either. I barely notice him, too preoccupied with looking for the right spell. I need this to be over, that can’t happen to me again! I’m not brave enough for it. Another terrible sob forces its way from my chest and I feel half like curling into my cousins chest and crying my heart out and half like killing that bastard Freddy. Wrenching his entire nasty existence from unwritten history and tearing it so it will never be salvaged again.

The second half wins, as I go back through the book backwards, and this time find the spell. “Ow-Okay.”

“Y/N, take a moment- “

“No,” I snap. I nearly got h i t, by a t r a i n. A monstrous thing the same colour as Freddy’s blades. Bernard can’t understand that, but I sure as fuck can. Stammering, but sure, I start to recite the incantation under my breath. Slowly it gets louder, as words start to become harder to say and I need concentrate more. Latin mixes together into one big word, and its har don the best of days but when there’s expression magic involved, it takes an army. More.

And I am that, right now.

Bernard looks around as wind, not coming from an open door or window, starts picking up in this room and rushes to shut the curtains and block the rest of the world from seeing in. Napkins go flying, then the chairs topple over, and then finally the wind is so strong that coffee maker rips from the wall and smashes into the glass sweets case.

I don’t see it, because I’m still following the words in the book, but I hear it. But only just, over the terrible wind screaming through my ears. Finally, the spell reaches its peak and the air in front of Bernard and me, who has gotten back to where I am, opens up. Like someone took a knife and tore literally through the fabric of space and time and magic, revealing the familiar boiler room.

The words start to speak on their own. Whispering in the wind and my lips don’t even have to move, so I let Bernard take the book. Its all so chaotic, I don’t know how I know what to do. But I reach forward and just, lightly touch the hole and its like the magic knows exactly what I want.

Dirty dust, like what Freddy turns into when you bring out of a piece of him from the dream world that I’ve been vacuuming for the past weeks appears, connects together into the shape of a man and then twists together slowly, disturbingly like vines until it isn’t dust and vines anymore. Its burnt flesh and knitted, red and green cotton.

And he looks mad. “You bitch.” Is all he manages to say, but it’s got so much hatred and fury in it that I nearly get scared. I feel it creeped into my bones and organ in my chest.

But then I remember. This is my world.

And I don’t want him in it. “Get out.” I spit, and just like the world seems to crash. Eliminating an existence -anything. Much less a person, - is a lot of work and a big deal. It shouldn’t be possible at all, and I believe that. But I believe it like some who believe murder shouldn’t be possible.

But it is and sometimes it happens, in dire situations.

It feels like I’m being torn on the inside, and scraped clean on the outside- punishment, for doing such a thing. Something to make the world balanced for this.

And Freddy warps like The Scream or a computer glitch. Half of him gong up and the other half going down. Its horrifying sight and I’m in so much pain, but I make my eyes stay open.

And then everything goes black.

___TIME SKIP: A Week___

The whole week has gone by like dream. Not a Freddy dream. Not even a happy dream. Just, like its unreal. I don’t feel much, except a slow, soft blankness like when you’re totally out of it in class after a really, really bad day.

Its not particularly a bad feeling, not compared to the horrors I endured before. Its just like I need to rest, after I used so much power, and feeling so much in general.

Oh, and I have. I’ve been sleeping all the time. Day and night. It’s been uninterrupted and nearly… empty, feeling. Bizarly, I’m well aware now when I’m asleep that I’m dreaming. I’m lucid. Like when Freddy would be there, but without him. Its not exactly restful, but still. It’s better than the nightmares.

Right now, I’m going to sleep. Feeling tiredness expand and unconsciousness take over.

Immediately, I nearly jolt right awake again from fear. Nearly. But his hand grips onto my arm before I can.

Freddy’s right in front of me, smiling sharp like a much madder, pissed off the Cheshire cat. “Heya again sweetheart.” His voice sounds too real. His touch feels to real. This cant be- “It took a fucking lot. Pulled a few strings, don’t know how. Don’t ask. But I’m back. Don’t worry though, I’m not about to kill you. That was a real neat trick you pulled… “I jump, and whimper when the a blade on his glove touches my cheek, and he leans much closer.

“So, we have a lot to talk about.”

You didn’t think you could rid of this Slasher, did you?

[armadil-lo]

until we can be

Summary: it starts thundering by the time the ice has melted in his glass and eijirou’s paper straw has gone a bit soggy. disappointment claws at his chest when he flips his phone over and sees the time. no new messages await him. 

in which kirishima and bakugou are pro heroes just trying to find their footing with balancing work life & their relationship.

Tags: established relationship, angst, hurt/comfort, future fic, rated t for language

My Notes: This was posted on AO3 a wee while ago now, but seeing as I’ve been slowly coming back to tumblr I realised I should probably post it over here too! Also yes, this is all written in lowercase, I’m sorry if that upsets anyone - it was a stylistic choice and I stand by it :')

Inspired by the song Postcard by Troye Sivan

Words: 3917

AO3 // Twitter

it’s raining outside.

eijirou takes a seat in the booth just as the sky opens up and the first drops of water splash onto the window beside him. he smiles at the waitress and tells her his company will be here soon, flicking a quick text to let katsuki know he’s arrived.

people walk past the restaurant in raincoats as he peruses the menu in front of him, even though he’s already looked at it online. a colourful umbrella in his peripheral catches his attention, but it’s not the one he’s expecting to see go by the window. he contemplates the rain for a moment, then sends another text asking how far away katsuki is.

eijirou watches the progression from a light drizzle to a downpour until he can’t tell if the sky is dark because of the storm or because of the evening hour. he orders a drink while he waits, and sips on it patiently. (hopefully katsuki won’t mind.) another text - it’s odd he hasn’t replied yet - then he places his phone face down on the table.

it starts thundering by the time the ice has melted in his glass and eijirou’s paper straw has gone a bit soggy. disappointment claws at his chest when he flips his phone over and sees the time. no new messages await him. doubt and fear begin to creep at the edges of his mind.

the waitress’ smile is pitying now as she asks if he’d like to order something to eat while he waits. eijirou’s smile is forced as he politely declines and asks for the bill instead. he thanks her for her time even as he avoids looking in her eyes and weaves himself back through the tables of diners, feeling their sympathetic gazes on him until he reaches the door.

the air outside is cold and the storm above is loud, but his heart feels colder and his thoughts sound louder. eijirou closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. he almost misses the vibrating in his pocket.

katsuki.

he scrambles to answer the incoming call. “babe?”

“what the fuck do you mean ‘see you soon’ and ‘where am i’?” comes his boyfriend’s agitated voice.

he’s okay. relief floods eijirou, so intense that for a moment all he can do is stand and shiver and breathe. it takes him a second longer to register katsuki’s words - he must be referring to eijirou’s unanswered messages.

“i literally just finished up at the agency for the day,” katsuki continues, “where the fuck are you?” eijirou knows him well enough to be able to tell the frustration is more out of confusion than anything, but his heart sinks anyway. of course he was at work.

“i told you to get tonight off,” eijirou sighs, rubbing his free hand over his face as he lets the heightened emotions from earlier seep out of him. he just feels kind of defeated now.

katsuki splutters. “what? no you didn’t. when the fuck did you say that?”

eijirou thinks for a moment, wondering if the topic had actually ever come up in conversation between the two of them other than when— “i sent you a postcard.” it comes out sounding a little sheepish.

thunder and rain fills the silence between them on both ends of the call.

“...you what.”

eijirou huffs and rolls his eyes. he can’t help feeling a bit defensive. “i sent you a postcard two weeks ago telling you to book tonight off work and meet me,” he elaborates. “i made a reservation for us both and everything!”

“ei,” katsuki groans, exasperated. “i haven’t checked my mail in, like, a month. i’ve been way too fucking busy.”

and he does sound exhausted. eijirou feels the fight leave his body as he thinks on the long hours he knows his boyfriend is working. it must have been another ten or twelve hour shift for him to finish this late. there’s no way katsuki is making it out tonight, so eijirou finally leaves the restaurant awning and starts walking in the direction of the train station.

“it’s okay,” he concedes, even as his heart is still screaming at him that it isn’t. “i get it. it was kind of a dumb idea anyway. i guess i was just trying to be romantic or something.”

“no, ei, i appreciate the gesture.” after a pause, katsuki grumbles, “i am sorry i couldn’t be there tonight.”

“...happy anniversary, katsuki.” his chest feels hollow as he says it.

“happy anniversary, eijirou.”

eijirou steps in a puddle by accident. his socks feel wet inside his shoes. great.

“when will i see you next then?” he asks, but he already knows the answer.

and katsuki’s heavy sigh confirms it. “i don’t know. i’ll try to make some time to come down in the next few weeks, okay?”

“okay.”

they exchange stilted goodbyes and ‘i love you’s shortly after. eijirou spends the train ride back to osaka feeling stupid for getting his hopes up, a crushing ache filling his chest. (he tries to convince himself that his face is still damp from the storm even though the skies are clear back home.)

but there’s no denying by the time he makes it into bed that it hurts, it hurts, it hurts as he clutches a pillow to his chest with tears rolling down his cheeks.

eijirou turns his ringer off and cries himself to sleep that night.

--

it was easier before.

eijirou and katsuki started their relationship in a dorm room. they may have been incredibly busy yuuei high school students - with classes, training, internships, assignments, work experience, exams, and more - but at the end of the day, they were still only students nonetheless.

close friends with rooms right next door to each other; they toed the line between platonic and romantic for some time. they saw one another in and out of class all the time, and even on the days they barely spent any time together, eijirou learned to count on the knock at his door come nighttime. sometimes, during their busiest periods at school, his only interaction with katsuki in a day would be when they collapsed into bed together and fell asleep in a mess of tangled limbs and warm skin.

things came to a head in their second year. a quiet moment shared between the two of them, soft words and pink cheeks, lips meeting lips for the first time. not a lot changed in the way they interacted with each other on a day to day basis, but their relationship blossomed over time. trust, loyalty, honesty.

love.

things are different now that they’re both pros. katsuki and eijirou had agreed after graduation not to move in together straight away. with katsuki pursuing his solo career in tokyo in and eijirou staying on with fatgum in osaka, it had only seemed logical they move into separate apartments closer to their places of work.

and continue their relationship long distance for the time being.

but working six day weeks and often too tired to travel on their days off (which usually don’t even align, making the long journey between cities seem pointless to only see each other for an hour) makes finding time to spend together rather scarce. the two call and text whenever they can of course, but eijirou still isn’t used to sleeping alone after spending just over two years sharing a bed with the one he loves.

it’s been seven long and difficult months. eijirou thinks they see each other once every three or four weeks. it’s hard. it’s so hard. he misses katsuki with every fibre of his being. he feels a physical ache in his chest whenever they’re apart, but he feels whole again when they’re actually together. then, by the time they’re saying goodbye once more, he’s always so emotionally wrung out that it’s as if his soul has been completely crushed.

eijirou thinks he’s cried more in the last seven months than he has in his entire life beforehand.

but then he has to go back to work, throw himself into the hero routine and put on a smile. for civilians, for his colleagues, for the press.

he misses yet another lunch break phone call from katsuki the day after their anniversary, and listens to the voicemail his boyfriend left him. he replies with a text ending in a series of heart emojis. eijirou reads katsuki’s response as he lets himself into his apartment later that evening. their messages for the rest of the night are sent and received up to half an hour apart. they squeeze in a brief phone call before katsuki goes to sleep, exchanging tender words that eijirou only wishes could heal all wounds.

eijirou tosses and turns at night, like he always does nowadays, until he slips into a restless sleep. he dreams of strong arms, calloused hands, and soft lips.

(rinse and repeat.)

--

he shouldn’t really be surprised when katsuki turns up on his doorstep a few nights later.

but he is anyway.

“katsuki! babe, what are you doing here?” eijirou exclaims, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend and breathing in his familiar scent. gunpowder and burnt caramel.

the blonde hugs him back and mumbles into his shoulder, “i managed to finish work at a halfway decent fucking time today. thought i should come and visit while i have the time.” he gives eijirou a kiss that lasts longer than it probably should.

katsuki ends up cooking the both of them dinner, grumbling all the while about the lack of spices in eijirou’s cupboard. when he’s finished, they sit opposite each other on the couch with plates of stirfry and lock their ankles in the middle between them.

conversation is light, chatting about work mostly; what kind of jobs they’ve been up to, how the hero rankings have changed recently, recounting stories heard from their other friends.

they skim over the missed anniversary date briefly, but neither want to dwell on it, awkwardly avoiding eye contact and pushing food around their plates without eating it. so the subject changes.

katsuki talks about an interview he’s been preparing for. it’s with a big name hero tabloid and could apparently have quite an impact on his popularity. but the media can be incredibly infuriating to deal with, having to keep going back and forth on what kinds of questions katsuki should answer versus what questions he is actually willing to answer. and he still isn’t the best with words on top of all that too.

so of course it’s during this discussion that katsuki fucks up.

“sometimes i think it’d be easier if i wasn’t in a relationship,” he says casually, mid-rant, punctuated by shovelling more food into his mouth.

eijirou goes still. he feels his face fall, brows tilting in confusion. the ache in his chest suddenly returns full force, so intense that he thinks he stops breathing. eijirou’s mind is a white noise of too many thoughts and none at all. surely he doesn’t mean..?

it takes katsuki a second to realise what he’s said. just keeps chewing on his mouthful. but the second he looks up and meets eijirou’s eyes, he freezes too. he grimaces a moment later and swallows thickly, noticeably paler than he was mere minutes ago.

(panic and fear don’t do much to compliment the red of his irises. eijirou wonders distantly if his look the same right now.)

“shit, ei, no,” katsuki stammers, putting his plate aside. “i don’t— i didn’t mean it like that…”

he reaches out and moves eijirou’s plate of food to the floor as well, shuffling closer on the couch and grabbing hold of both of his boyfriend’s hands. eijirou is having a hard time meeting katsuki’s eyes, so katsuki gently grabs his chin and tilts his face up.

eijirou knows there are tears at the corners of his eyes. katsuki looks distressed when he sees this.

“i just meant it’s hard,” katsuki clarifies. “people always want to butt their noses into our fucking business, but… i barely see you anymore. i… i miss you.”

eijirou tries his best to take comfort in those words. and it’s true he knows better than anyone how much katsuki needs to work on his articulation skills.

he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, two tears squeezed out from under his eyelids. katsuki’s thumbs are there to wipe them away before they can even roll down his cheeks, and eijirou is pulled forward into a desperate kiss.

“i miss you too,” he murmurs softly when they come up for air, foreheads rested against one another’s. his fingers tightly grip the front of katsuki’s shirt. eijirou tries to huff a small laugh, but it comes out rather weak. “asshole, you scared me.”

katsuki leans just back far enough that they can lock gazes once more. there’s a determined set to his jaw as he firmly states, “i don’t want to break up.”

eijirou stays silent - a traitorous voice in the back of his head whispers are you sure, but he doesn’t say it aloud.

katsuki shifts so he’s seated between eijirou’s legs spread lengthwise on the couch, leaning backwards into his chest. eijirou instinctively wraps his arms around katsuki’s waist and buries his face in the crook of his boyfriend’s neck, their half-eaten meals long forgotten.

“i used to only have one goal, y’know?” katsuki says quietly. eijirou listens, patient. “to be number one. and i didn’t need anybody by my side to achieve that.”

he pauses, no doubt reflecting on his old attitude. eijirou is proud of how far katsuki has come in the last few years since starting at yuuei. he only hopes his boyfriend can see how much he’s improved too. he’s gradually learned to let people in, listen to and trust in them. sometimes it’s only when necessary for the job, his teamwork abilities much better than before, but eijirou knows he’s far closer to the people in his personal life now than he used to be. (he likes to think he had somewhat of an influence in that particular area.)

“but now…” katsuki continues. “it’s like my mind still wants that, of course. number one, at the top, proof of all the hard goddamn work i’ve put in to get there. but now my fucking heart wants something else.”

he finds one of eijirou’s hands and gives it a squeeze.

“every single day i’m at work, i think about you, ei. imagining you’re there with me, finding places on patrol i want to take you to, hearing your voice encourage me when i’m in a fight. it’s almost painful how much i fucking miss you.”

and, god, it’s the same for eijirou too. katsuki still inspires him and lifts him up on a daily basis, even when he’s not around.

“shit, i can’t even fucking sleep properly in my own bed without you there and it’s been months since we moved away from each other.” katsuki scoffs at himself.

eijirou chuckles, recounting his own sleepless nights spent apart from the blonde. “yeah. it’s pathetic, right?” he agrees, tone somewhat self-deprecating.

katsuki cranes his neck to look at him. “you too?!” he exclaims. when eijirou lifts his head to nod, he bursts into laughter. “we’re so fucking stupid!”

eijirou can’t help but smile along with his boyfriend. “we are.”

katsuki makes sure he’s looking in the redhead’s eyes as he says “i love you so fucking much, eijirou.”

“i love you too, katsuki.” eijirou presses their lips together again, short and sweet. “i know this is hard, but we’ll get through it.” he’s not sure who he’s trying to convince more, himself or his boyfriend, but he’s pretty sure they both need to hear it regardless.

“we always do,” is katsuki’s confident reply. it’s his way of making a promise, eijirou thinks.

and when he really thinks about it, the two of them have already been through so much together. but they’re still here, together, sticking by each other’s sides despite it all.

they can make it. they will.

--

a month later, eijirou is involved in a particularly brutal villain attack in central osaka.

there are numerous casualties and injuries - civilians and heroes alike - but eijirou is lucky enough to walk away with a mild concussion, bruised ribs, and some small cuts on his arms from his quirk.

regardless of his relatively minor injuries, he’s ordered off work for a week by fatgum, and he’ll likely be put on desk duty for a while after he returns too. (secretly, he’s a little relieved he’ll have some time to recover and process everything that happened.)

katsuki is still at work up in tokyo, but eijirou manages to catch him on the phone just after he is cleared to go home and reassures his boyfriend that he’s okay.

it’s one of the hardest things they have to go through - not just as a long distance couple, but both working as heroes too. it’s incredibly scary, hearing the awful news reports and not knowing if the other is safe, or even alive. eijirou isn’t sure he’ll ever get used to that feeling, and it’s been awful being so far away from katsuki when he’s been hurt in the past few months and all eijirou wants to do is tend to his wounds for him.

this is the first time the tables have been turned in eight months and katsuki has asked him for update messages every half hour like the worry wart he is, just in case eijirou’s condition worsens. he dutifully checks in for his boyfriend every thirty minutes until he gets bored of sitting on the couch in silence.

he decides that maybe he should make himself a snack and get a glass of water, and slowly lifts himself upright and makes his way to the kitchen.

he’s almost out of food, which is unfortunate, and he probably shouldn’t spend too much time standing up to cook anything elaborate, already missing the ice pack he left by the couch.

eijirou eventually settles on some cookies. which of course are in a jar on the top shelf of his cupboard.

he winces as he reaches up for them, bracing his torso with his other arm. shit, was it always this hard to reach up there? he didn’t think he’d pushed the jar that far back on the shelf. he’s just grazing the jar with his fingertips and spinning it, slowly moving it closer towards him—

a loud series of bangs startles him, causing eijirou to knock the cookie jar from the shelf. he jumps backwards and it shatters at his feet.

eijirou breathes through the pain for a moment, the quick movement having jostled his aching ribs. then he realises what the bangs were - somebody was knocking at his apartment.

“just a minute!” he calls out, taking in the broken glass and cookies at his feet.

“what the fuck, ei?”

eijirou’s head snaps up - katsuki is standing in the doorway to his kitchen with a duffle bag over his shoulder and arms full of groceries. in one of his hands is the spare key to eijirou’s apartment that he was given when eijirou first moved in.

eijirou blinks a few times, not quite believing katsuki is really there. “i didn’t hear you come in,” he says numbly, heart still racing from the sudden noises. he realises he might still be breathing a little quickly.

katsuki seems to snap out of his reverie and drops all of his bags on the floor where he stands. “shit, are you okay?” he picks his way through the glass and comes to stand in front of eijirou, taking his face in both hands.

eijirou closes his eyes and leans into the touch. “i just dropped the cookie jar. i’m okay.” i’m okay, he repeats in his mind and mentally counts out a few deep breaths. when he opens his eyes, katsuki is still in front of him, watching him in open concern.

it was raining earlier in the day when the alert first went out. but eijirou can see the sun peeking out from behind clouds now. it shines through the kitchen window and seems to illuminate katsuki, softening his edges and giving him a warm glow.

eijirou smiles. “what are you doing here?”

“i came to see you, idiot,” katsuki replies. “you sure you’re okay?” he gives the redhead a skeptical once over.

eijirou nods. “just a concussion and some bruised ribs. i told you it wasn’t anything serious.”

“maybe, but i had to see for myself. c’mon, let’s get you out of this fucking mess.”

katsuki supports eijirou as they make their way through the kitchen and helps lower him back onto the couch. he asks eijirou where his ribs hurt and gently presses the ice pack onto the area for him.

“so how long do you have to be off work?” he asks.

“just a week.”

“great. i’m taking the week off too,” katsuki declares with a smirk.

eijirou’s eyes go wide. “what? no, babe, c’mon. you can’t do that!”

“why the fuck not?” katsuki scoffs. “someone has to take care of you, you big idiot.”

eijirou’s protests are weak and he knows it. “katsuki…” he sighs.

katsuki only leans down closer, an obstinate glint in his eyes now. “just you fucking try to make me leave this damn apartment in the next seven days, eijirou,” he says challengingly. “i fucking dare you.”

eijirou can’t help but break into a grin, dopey and grateful. katsuki closes the gap between them and they both smile into the kiss.

he hands the ice pack back off to eijirou a moment later and gets to work cleaning up the kitchen. he puts away the extra groceries he brought with him and brings eijirou a snack before settling in on the couch and pulling eijirou’s feet onto his lap. they chatter about nonsense for a while, then katsuki puts the television on low volume and narrates the trash reality show that’s on since eijirou is not allowed to watch it with his concussion. it’s difficult to hold in laughter at katsuki’s scathing commentary, so his boyfriend allows him to take a nap while he cooks them some food. the apartment smells delicious when he wakes up.

katsuki helps him get into bed later that night too, fussing over how comfortable eijirou is and if he needs to take any more pain meds before they sleep. once the lights are out, eijirou whispers into the space between them details of what transpired earlier in the day. katsuki listens, humming and hissing every now and then, and reassures eijirou where appropriate. it was a tough day, but katsuki makes him feel safe and strong. they exchange sleepy sweet kisses in the dark, stroking hair and caressing cheeks until they’re too tired to move.

“thank you for coming, katsuki,” eijirou murmurs, eyes closed.

“i’d do anything for you, eijirou,” comes the gentle reply. “we’ll get through this together.”

and despite all that happened today and the pain he’s still in, with katsuki’s warm body beside him once more, his arm strewn across eijirou’s stomach and legs intertwined - eijirou falls quickly and easily into the deepest sleep he’s gotten in a long time.

and when he wakes up beside the man of his dreams, there’s not a single cloud in the sky.

and everything will be alright.

[bbyboybrock--archived]

Serendipity (C.B) | Chapter 19

Summary: Serendipity: (n) the chance occurrence of events in a beneficial way

Popular youtuber Isabella Hart, known as Bella to her audience, bends over backwards to separate her youtube life from her private life. Known for her overall clean content and her bubbly attitude, Isabella has a wild side to her that only those inside the youtube community know about. When Bella meets Colby during one of the trap house parties she finally meets someone she can be her genuine self with. When trouble arises after their meeting, will Bella be able to hand the pressure or will she destroy her relationship with Colby as well as herself in the process. [This starts in 2018]

Written: 2019

Word Count: 3,733

Warnings: swearing

Serendipity Masterlist

The car finally stops in a secluded area. I'm not familiar with our location. Then again, it's night so I probably wouldn't recognize where we were anyway. When Colby asked me to explore with him and Sam, I didn't think they would be this secretive about where we were going or what we were doing. The only thing I know is that I was asked if I would be busy today and tomorrow. It wasn't even until this morning that I was told to wear something warm. It took hours to find something warm that was also comfortable to wander an undisclosed location. Most of my clothes are packed away. We move in a few weeks and it's not cold enough for me to keep my really warm clothes out.

Sam and Colby finish setting up the camera on the dashboard. They talk for a few minutes before Sam turns on the camera.

"What's up, guys! It's Sam and Colby." Colby shouts from the driver seat.

"Today we are going to explore Angeles National Forest with Isabella Rose." Sam points to me in the backseat. I do a little wave to the camera.

"How are you feeling Iz?" Colby ask.

"A little sleepy. It was a long drive." I yawn.

"I don't think you're going to be tired after I tell you this. So I did a bit of research on this forest and apparently in 2002 about 20,000 acres of the forest burnt down in a wildfire. When they were investigating the fire, it was discovered that the fire was set by a cult doing animal sacrifices. Now, it's unsure if they meant to light the forest on fire or what. People have also walked into the forest never to be seen again. Some people say they see the ghost of an animal or the ghosts of lost travelers. At the summit, you can see shadow figures."

"Excuse me, what? I was told none of this." I shot from the back.

"Awake now?" Colby teased.

"I mean, you just said that there is a chance we may not be able to come out alive tonight. So, of course, I'm awake now."

"We're going to be fine. What's your stance on ghosts?"

"I believe they exist, just not in the way we perceive them to be."

"We'll see tonight if your hunch is true," Sam says before shutting off the camera.

We all climb out of the car. I retie my shoes and fix my new XPLR hoodie and gloves. I stand up and close the door. I turn around while putting on my backpack Colby is in front of me holding a beanie. He places the beanie on my head.

"I don't want you to get cold."

"I'm going to get hot while we walk with all the layers I'm wearing."

"You're always hot, babe." Colby has a stupid grin on his face. I playfully push him.

Sam calls us over and Colby and I walk towards him. Sam turns on the camera. All three of us start walking into the forest.

"Colby, pass out flashlights in case we get separated."

"I don't want to get separated," I say sheepishly.

"Both of you need to calm down. We'll be fine." Colby says as he passes out the flashlights.

"You know who says that? The guy who gets killed first in a horror film." I pout as I turn on my flashlight.

"Well, just in case something does happen, meet at the car." Sam walks backward to get both Coby and me in the frame.

"Everything is going to be fine," Colby says before patting me on the head.

****

We've been exploring for what seems like forever. The empty forest doesn't seem as scary as it did before. It may have to do with the fact that we've been cracking jokes. The boys plugged their merch a few times too. There have been a few times where we turned off our lights when we heard strange noises.

"I hate to be that bitch but we've been walking for hours and if we don't take a break soon we're going to have a problem," I complain. Sam turns the camera back on and faces it at himself.

"Alright guys, we've been walking for a while. Since there's not a specific place to go to, I think its time for surprise number 2. Here, take this." Sam passes the camera to Colby and his flashlight to me.

I watch as Sam pulls out a familiar brown box.

"You fucking brought the ouija board? I thought you two got rid of it." I say stepping back a bit.

"I thought so too, but I guess we didn't." Colby has the camera on me as I hand Sam his flashlight back.

"Well, I'm not touching it. Have fun with— What was that?" I'm cut off by the sound of something hitting the ground hard.

"Pinecones?" Colby suggests.

"These aren't pine trees, babe," I say pointing my light up. Another loud sound appears near us.

"They're rocks," Sam says pointing his light on a rock.

"Flash your lights around us," Colby commands. We shine our lights in the perimeter surround us but nothing but the thick forest can be seen.

"Turn your lights off and run," Sam whispers. Immediately we shut our lights off and begin sprinting.

Walking through the forest with our lights was hard enough. Trying to run the same path without any guides is worse. We passed a ledge to get here and now I'm scared one of us is going to fall off of it.

My foot hits something and causes me to lose my balance and my flashlight. I notice something that I didn't before, its quiet. The only thing I can hear is my own breathing. I don't know when but I lost Sam and Colby. I strain my ears hoping to hear them in the distance but I don't. I pat the ground and look for the flashlight. After grasping at the dirt and leaves my hand wraps around the cool metal. I try to turn it on but it refused to light. Not only did I lose Sam and Colby, but I also don't have a flashlight. I left my phone in the car because I thought it would be better. I am a complete dumbass.

I search my backpack for anything that could help. My fingers brush my vlog camera that I know has a light attached. I swap the camera and the flashlight and put my backpack back on. I fumble around with the buttons to turn the light on and the camera. I manage to get them both on and set the camera to the light to the lowest setting so I don't track attention. I face the camera toward me.

"Hey, guys. I'm hoping that Sam and Colby aren't pranking me right now because I'm absolutely terrified. You're both in deep shit if this is a prank. Just in case this is real and I die I'm just going to explain what just happened." I start walking a bit. Maybe I stumble onto the path that leads back to the car where hopefully are where Sam and Colby are.

"By the way, if I die and Sam and Colby live and find this footage, you have all my permission to use this in the video. Anyway, what basically happened is that I was invited to go on an exploring video with Sam and Colby. I wasn't told what exactly we were going to be doing or where we were going. I honestly thought we would get to go to a hotel because that is safer and there is a bed to sleep on." I look at the ground to make sure I don't fall down the shortish drop near me.

"Jokes on me because dumb and dumber bring me to a haunted forest where apparently lots of people died. We were hiking for over an hour without anything really happening. That's when Sam brings out the fucking ouija board that I thought I watched Colby throw away when I was helping him pack. Suddenly, rocks are falling or being thrown at us or whatever so Sam suggests that we turn off our lights and run. And then I fell and broke my flashlight and realized that I'm alone in a forest without my phone. And here we are." I play with the light so that the camera is still on me but the light is faced in front of me. Some of the light pokes through the back and lights my face up a little bit.

I pause for a second to see if I can hear anything. We can't be that far apart. Hopefully, Colby would have noticed that I wasn't with them sooner than I did. Or maybe it would take him longer because Sam is with him and he'll think I'm with them. Maybe they're already at the car and waiting for me meet them there.

The more time I spend alone the more scared I get. I almost don't want to walk because I'm just waiting for something to jump out at me. I take little steps and call out for Sam and Colby every few steps. Suddenly there's a high pitched scream. My first instinct is to run. Because I don't know where the noise came from I run to my left. All is well until the half-second when I couldn't feel the ground under my foot. It's not until I hit the ground I realize what's happened. I fell over the weird ledge that I spent most of the night avoiding.

"Samuel! Cole! This isn't fucking funny anymore!" I shout trying to get up. A sharp pain shoots up my right leg as I put my foot down. I lean on the wall and grab the camera that remains in perfect condition.

"Izzy! Isabella! Where are you?" I hear Colby shouting from above.

"I'm down here!" I use the camera light to try to get their attention.

"Oh dude, look over there." Says Sam. A few seconds later I see Sam and Colby's heads peek over the edge with their lights pointed at me. I have to squint to be able to see them.

"Are you okay?" Colby's voice is lowered again.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Just stuck." I bend the truth a little bit. There's no need to stress them out more.

"Sam, hold my feet," Colby says as he lays down. He's only partly over the edge but enough so that I can grab his arms. I wait until they're ready before slowly climbing up until Colby can pull us both up.

Colby engulfs me into a hug as soon as we're both get back on our feet. I hug him back and don't let go for a while.

"Thank God you screamed. We wouldn't have been able to find you otherwise." Sam says to break up the lovefest. I pull away from Colby and give Sam a puzzling look.

"I didn't scream. I thought maybe one of you two did..."

"Do you honestly think that one of us can scream that high pitched?" My eyes dart between Sam and Colby unsure if they're telling the truth.

"If you guys didn't—" I'm cut off by an out of place female giggle.

"I found you..." an unrecognized female voice appears from the distance. I feel the blood drain from my face.

"Run. Now." Sam says yet again. This time Colby grabs my hand as we start to run. Even though my ankle is hurting I can't stop now. The pain seems the dull the more we run.

I can hear footsteps following behind us. Ahead of us, I can see the trees becoming less and less dense. We must be getting close to the car. Colby's grip tightens around my hand as he runs faster.

I see a hint of red in the distance. It grows bigger the closer we get.

"Colby, unlock the car!" I yell. Colby lets go of my hand the second we hit the pavement and runs over to the driver side. All three of us throw ourselves in the car in nearly perfect unison. I hear the doors lock over our heavy breathing.

"What are you doing? Start the car." Sam says panicked.

"Dude I'm trying! Now is not the time for the car to breakdown." Colby tries starting the car a couple of times before it finally starts. He quickly drives away from the forest.

"Yo... what... the fuck was that?" Sam says panting. I see the camera sat on the dashboard.

"We almost died is what happened," I say as I try to put my seat belt on.

"Everyone one okay? Izzy, you good?" I make eye contact with Colby in the rearview mirror.

"I'm okay, just got some cuts and bruises. Still trying to process what happened. Are you sure this isn't a prank."

"If this was a prank, then why would we continue after you fell? Are you sure you didn't scream?" Sam brings up.

"Positive. I didn't scream but it was so close to me that I fell back in fright and that's how I fell. I have proof."

"Are you sure you're okay?" I still see the concern in his eyes.

"Yes, babe. How about this, I'll tell you the second I don't feel good." I say leaning back into my seat. Colby nods his head and presses his lips.

"Colby, pullover really quick so we can film the outro," Sam says to change the subject. Colby pulls over and Sam repositions the camera.

****

We've been sitting in the car for who knows how long. Colby has music playing quietly in the background low enough for him and Sam to talk over and for me to sleep if I wanted. But I can't sleep. About twenty or so minutes after we pulled over to film the outro the adrenaline completely wore off and I began to feel every bit of pain on my body. Various parts of my body ache, letting me know that I'm going to be sore for a while. But the most intense pain is coming from my right leg. The pain that I felt when I fell has spread up my leg. My leg started throbbing not that long ago. The pain is unbearable. I've sat for as long as I could, holding my head with my arms resting on my thighs. I feel a familiar sensation in my stomach and salty taste in my mouth.

"Colby, pull over," I say softly hoping to not get sick in the car. I feel Colby continuing to drive.

"Colby," I lift up my head and speak louder, "can you please pull over?"

"What? Why? What's wrong?" Colby questions while still pulling over. As soon as the car stops I swing open the door and limp as quickly as I could far enough away so that the guys couldn't hear me throw up. I couldn't walk without holding anything for support.

After emptying the contents of my stomach, I limp back into the car. I sit down and grab my water from earlier and try to wash my mouth out.

"Are you okay?" Sam ask after I close the door.

"Ye—"

"Why were you limping?" Colby cuts me off and turns around in his seat.

"My leg hurts. I might have sprained it." Colby looks into my eyes and then turns on his phone light.

"Let me see." He shines the light at my feet. I slowly pull up my right let to reveal a very swollen and bruised ankle.

"Oh shit," I mumble under my breath.

"Isabella, why didn't you say anything?" Colby asks while taking his seat belt off. I watch as Colby gets out of the car and heads to the trunk.

"Did that happen when you fell?" Sam asks.

"Maybe. I'm not entirely sure."

Colby enters the car on the opposite side of me and sits down. He has his red first aid kit in his hands. He gently picks up my leg and places my foot on his lap. He carefully takes off my shoe and only stops when I wince. He eventually pulls off my shoe to reveal the darkish bruising a little bit lower.

"It doesn't feel as bad as it looks..." I mumble.

"Oh really?" Colby barely touches it and I yelp in pain.

"Not fair, all fresh bruises hurt when touched." I watch as Sam and Colby share a look.

"I'll wrap it for now but I think it's broken. Sam?"

"Already on it." Sam is back facing forward and on his phone.

"Broken? Badly sprain, yeah, but it can't be broken."

Colby ignores me and gently wraps my foot. I watch as his jaw clench and unclench. He quickly finishes wrapping my foot and grabs my chin and turns my face to the side.

"And you were bleeding." Colby digs back into the bag and pulls out a tube, a bottle, and some gauze.

"What? Since when?" I reach up and touch my cheek to find crusted blood and a cut.

"This is going to hurt," Colby says seconds before she touches the pad to my face with something that makes the cut sting. I bite my lip to stop from crying out or screaming.

He finished doing cleaning and patching up my face and closes the first aid kit. He places it by my foot and slams my door shut. He makes his way back to the driver seat and hands me a water bottle and gum. I take them and Colby puts his seatbelt on and starts driving.

"If you're making us go to the emergency room at this time can we at least drop Sam off at the house so he can sleep?" I plead.

"It's fine. Colby might need me to drive back for him anyway. Izzy, worry about yourself for once."

****

"Well, bad news: it's broken. Good news: it's not severe enough to need surgery. The swelling has also gone down a lot so we can put your cast on now. Why don't you choose a color and I'll be right back." The doctor hands me a ring with plaster colors on it.

The doctor leaves and I turn to Colby who is standing next to me. He still hasn't said a word to me since he found out I got hurt. He only came in a few moments before the doctor did. I texted him to come back to the room after I had my testing.

"Why haven't you said anything?" I asked as Colby sits down.

"I didn't want to fight in front of Sam." He says, cooly.

"We're fighting?" I watch as Colby fidgets in his chairs trying to avoid eye contact.

"No, but we might. I'm really upset."

"With me?" Colby finally looks me in the eyes. He hesitates for a second.

"Yes, actually. I'm only a little bit mad at you."

"Why are you a little mad at me? I'm the one who broke a bone."

"That's exactly why, Isabella. I'm mad that you got hurt. I'm mad you didn't say anything when I asked you if you were okay three times. And I'm mad that I even put you in danger for a video."

"So, it's okay when you and Sam put yourselves in danger every week for your videos then?"

"That's not what we're talking about right now. Don't change the subject."

"I'm sorry. None of this is your fault. You asked if I wanted to go on an exploration with you and Sam. and I said yes. I could have said no but I wanted to go. Things don't always go as planned but we're okay. How were you and Sam supposed to know that there was an insane chick in the forest at the same time we were going?"

"You're right. There's one thing I don't understand. Why didn't you tell me you were hurt?"

"...I didn't say anything after I fell because there was no point in telling you in the middle of the forest. I didn't say anything after we ran because it didn't hurt. I didn't say anything in the car because I thought it was a sprain and I could take care of it when we got home. I also was trying so hard not to ruin your video."

"Isabella..." Colby pauses and looks at me. "I wouldn't have cared if you 'ruined' our video. Sam and I would have figured something out or put 'gone wrong' in the title. What's most important is your safety. I mean, our safety is important too, but you were a guest and my responsibility. I love you and I just don't like seeing you put so much pressure on yourself or hurt."

"I love you too, Colbs." Colby comes closer and kisses my forehead.

****

After what felt like two hours, the three of us drove back to the trap house. We were all hungry so I mad Colby stop at a drive-through. I argued with both Sam and Colby and eventually, I won and paid for the food. It's the least I could do for them for taking me to the hospital. I know it was only common human decency, but I still feel bad about it. We all decided to take the food home. We sit out in the living room and talk about everything, still trying to process it.

"Oh yeah, before I forget. Sammy, here take this." I pull my vlog camera out of my backpack and toss it at him.

"What's this?" He asks while popping a fry in his mouth. He wipes his hand on his pants before he picks up my camera.

"I filmed a bit when we got separated. You can take some of the footage if it helps the video." I take a bite of a fry and drink my milkshake.

"This girl, even when she's in danger she thinks of others," Colby says while playfully ruffling my hair.

We finish eating and talking before the three of us head upstairs and went to bed. Colby helps me change into comfy clothes to sleep in. He climbs in ask he helps me in and cuddles me tight. Like I'll disappear if he lets go.

[natsspammityspamspamham]

Dino Rant (Nov 27 + Other Side Tales)

My siblings are currently mad at me. Here’s what went down. Tagging: @akaskira​ @ce-la​ @caratheillustrious​ Who are all practically my spiritual online older sister/sage advice givers and @lizard-in-the-rain​ who can be an idiot along with me.

For context:  Ate = Sister Kuya = Brother * My dad and I have a rocky past because he’s very old-fashioned, hasn’t been always supportive about my mental health, and is really old and out of date (especially about LGBTQ, feminism, HK protests, etc.) * My sister also has a rocky past with me but has since calmed down a little thanks to old age (she’s 23) * My brother is constantly busy with school (and stressed), is still mourning his breakup after a few months which continues to salt his wounds (not because his ex is crappy but she’s really nice. He’s having a bit of trouble still.), and is a very sensitive person (more sensitive than my sister)

Further in, you can see what happened at the orchestra concert on Saturday. For context, you can check out a previous rant.

Me: Dad got some bad oil burns. I was in the family room as he was yelling “[MOM NAME x 3] WHAT DO I DO WITH OIL BURNS?” Mom was upstairs and didn’t hear They are kinda big He’s upset

Ate: What the why didn't you help him call mom???? did you??? yike oil burns are no joke bc they hurt for longer bc water just steams away but oil sticks and keeps burning and the scars are worse

Me: Uh... I was scrolling on tumblr? I don’t know. I thought he already put ice.

Ate: smh

Me: But looking back, I heard the water running for less than a minute.

Ate: LOL

Me: And never heard the freezer open

Ate: water won't help unless you use soap anyways

Me: So I thought he did that but he was really just yelling for mom He didn’t even ice it. He said he ran some water over it.

Ate: make sure you help if someone yells for help next time even if you think it's handled bc if a person is panicking/in pain they're likely not thinking straight to help themselves speaking from experience

Me: Mom tried to give him advice now and he just walked away going “uh huh”

Ate: even I know to put my hand under cold running water and ice it but I've definitely not done that when I've burnt myself before I would be pretty choked too if there were 2 other people in the house and neither of them came to help me when I got oil burns

Me: Mom was upstairs and couldn’t hear. I thought he was crying wolf as usual.He yells for mom around three times on a daily basis

Ate: fair but fr next time take the 5 seconds to check bc sometimes bad things happenesp if all you hear is a thud

Me: “[Mom Name x 3 again] I CANT FIND THE [blank]!!!” Mom: it’s been in the same spot for over a decade. Look with your eyes.

Me: Mom does that once every other day (has a big thud) usually because something broke. When I heard the yell this time, I thought it was because he knocked something over. Dad is always yelling He even asked mom how to make the rice And didn’t make it because she didn’t answer fast enough Dad is a drama queen. That’s where we all get it from.

Ate: I mean

Kuya: Tf is this situation How can you ignore someone in need of help Regardless of who it is Doesn't it hurt to see someone suffering

Me: I didn’t see anything

Kuya: Unless you hold extreme animosity Like they killed your mom or something I have to hand something in by 10 But I find this quite upsetting

Me: I didn’t see anything, and the last thing he yelled was an oil burn, and the only advice I had was water and ice which I thought he already did.

Me (in response to animosity): Not extreme, but living with him with only me as the child has screwed a lot of things up.It has taken a toll on my sympathy for people (or whatever is left)

Ate: Same but he's still our dad?

Me: Eh, I honestly thought it was a small thing until I saw it.

Ate: I have only shreds of respect for him left but idk if I would go as far as to just overlook "oil burn" and figure "oh, I can't help so I'll ignore him" like that's a lil funny

Me: Again, when someone is constantly yelling, there’s a point where you don’t listen fully to what they’re saying. It only registered later that his burns might actually be serious and more than putting your fingertip on a hot pan. I also have little sympathy due to how he’s treated me during my past situations so honestly, I’ve little tolerance.

Afterwards, my mom called my sister who was absolutely hysterical and screaming on the other line to the point where my mom had to pull the phone away from her ear.

________________

Some Stupid Orchestra Stories:

Things I have said to my orchestra cohorts that might’ve scared them:

*sees me bump my instrument* Trumpet: Ouch Me (walking away): Snitches get stitches and end up in ditches, and dead men tell no tales. Doug: What?

*sees me bump my bow* Doug: Ouch Me (tired because I was just excluded from the conversation today because no one would listen to what I had to say): I’m going to stab you Doug: Pat, protect me!

Me: *tells anything about school* Everyone: MAJOR CONCERN (Examples: Kid said that this guy could have sex with his friend before she turned 21 by slipping a drug into her drink, kid saying he was going to hit a girl with a metal bar from the desk, kids smoking out back, kids make noise downstairs which causes the room I work in to shake, kids throwing stuff out car windows, kids brawling, my science teacher from regular school failing me for practically no reason)

More of an annoying incident from me: Hannah: Who’re you messaging? Your girlfriend? Sean: Yeah Me: YOU’RE STILL TOGETHER?! Sean: (sheepishly) yeah

To be fair, I get weirded out whenever they flash their privilege as semi-well off rich kids.  “Remember those special trips you get to take with your school to learn more about science? // Remember those international trips you take with your school club?” Me: ...no?! I’m not poor, I just dropped out of school before I could even go to my nearest McDonalds for a field trip.

But Doug is a little dumb sometimes. He doesn’t get my sense of humour (understandable), but he’s a little ignorant towards not-privileged people. 

He literally said he goes to sleep at 9:30pm, got into university (this is a semi-prestigious one) first try with 90s in all of his classes (at least), has a girlfriend, has friends, and doesn’t understand why anyone would stay later than that unless they had poor time management. His words, not mine. My brother stays there until around 12am studying. He was not happy to hear that. Doug is first year so my siblings are making fun of him saying he will perish in a year’s time. My parents saw him stealing kisses from his girlfriend in a parking lot during the day of our last concert. I seriously though the girl in his profile picture was his sister and not his girlfriend because they were both seriously white. Whiter than a bowl of milk I tell you.

He also doesn’t know what a period app would be for. I was a little annoyed. My brother knows about this well enough because we all know my sister and mom would not let anyone in this family live if they did not know the ins-and-outs of a period. Doug was like, “Why would you need to track that?” I responded, “Because they’re irregular.” He looked a little puzzled and I said, “Douglas, you’re a science major. There’s sex ed in school.” He responded that he is going into research (not sure what that has to do with menstrual ignorance) and never paid attention during sex ed (since it’s never for marks). I then got a little more pushy and said, “Well, if you ever want a girlfriend, maybe you should learn.” To which he said, “I have a girlfriend”. To which I gave him a look of:

Stories from the orchestra concert:

I did tell the bass instructor about this so maybe it’ll get sorted out but I did this “tell the teacher” thing twice where it backfired terribly. Let’s hope university kids are a little more grown up.

My messages from that night: Pat told me it was cute when I played in the wrong spots. It was genuine like she said it was cute. But it was like ??? I was having a panic attack. My brain left my body. I don’t want to play anymore. Then she put up her bow to make sure I wouldn’t flip the page Then she hit her bow on her bass. I really don’t want to play anymore. (She also repeated the same thing twice knowing from a previous talk that I have bad anxiety. She has anxiety as well.)

Me: Then Hannah and Patricia were commenting on my shoes. I like wearing my orthotics. They make my feet feel not in pain. Ate: tell them that Me: I did They told me to take off my shoes “They can’t even see my feet” I’m all the way in the back behind people “Then take off your shoes” “But then I’ll be in pain” “But you sit” (I have one foot on the ground) “So take them off. It’s for dress code. People can see you” Ate:  but it's literally a medical thing Tell them to actually fuck off hoh my god it's like asking a blind person to put their stick away bc people will trip on it or that you can't have your service dog with you like????

[untitledpseudonym]

The Director’s Cut

“ANNNNND CUT” 

A loud click and a gruff voice smelling of smuggled cigars and bourbon fills the set of director Randy McCullahan’s horror film studio. 

He steps out of his director’s chair, setting aside his glass of Eagle Rare, and starts walking

 to his star. She is currently laying on the ground of the kitchen dining room set, and covered in latex intestines and scarlet red theatrical blood.  

“What is it now, Mick?” the beautiful raven actor says, raising her hands up in confusion. Randy ignores her briefly to acknowledge his 7 ft star looming over the annoyed, fakely mutilated actress. 

“Chet, just wanna say, you’re doing a great job. Really embodying the killer vibe. Make sure you go back to makeup artists to get your mask refitted, it really seems to be slipping off.” Chet looks at the director, emotionlessly, his Ice blue eyes making it’s way past the thin film that covers the eye holes of his goat mask, piercing the director, and walks away towards the makeup crew.

“Heh, truly a method actor.” he says

“Uh, hello!” says the annoyed, actress. Randy sighs, displeasingly. 

“Ah, yes of course. You.” He says pinching the bridge of his nose under his glasses. “Whaddya mean me?!” she says standing up. Letting the fake guts and blood spill and drip of her. “That’s just it, Eve! It’s you! You’re not truly terrified. Your performance all day has been absolutely dreadful! You have shown no emotion in your death scene in 60 takes! We’ve burnt through 2 and a half hours of valuable film time just because you choose not to act! Like what am I even paying you for?!” Randy says yelling at her. Eve puts her hands on her hips. “I have given you my all for the entirety of this production! I talked to the other producers and crewmates and they all agree I've done the scene right the first 15 takes AT LEAST!” She spits back. Randy looks back at the crewmates and back at her. “Is that right?” he asks softly. Eve crosses her arms. “That’s right.” 

Randy nods and walks over to his director’s chair, softly repeating to himself: “uh-huh, that’s right, huh? Uh-huh, that’s right, huh? Uh-huh, that’s right, huh?” over and over until he gets to his chair and grabs the half drunk glass of Eagle Rare, and launches it, gently grazing the ear of the once righteous, now fearful actress. “This is my fucking set!” Randy bellows. “My fucking production! We will film until you all say your lines in sleep fucking paralysis! I don’t give a fuck how right you think it is, bitch! As long as i’m paying for your shit, you will deliver! Let me reiterate for all of you, since according to your ring leader Eve, you all support her claims.” Randy reaches under his directors chair and pulls out a M1911 pistol and fires off two bullets into the studio warehouses ceiling. Everyone shouts and ducks,some flee the set, clearly afraid of the director’s rant. “AS LONG AS IM PAYING FOR YOUR SHIT, YOU WILL FUCKING DELIVER!.” Randy shots above the petrified chaos he has commenced. He glances over at the terrified faces of his cast and crew and notices chet in the distance standing looking at him, fearlessly. Randy points his gun over at Chet. “See! True fucking actor right there, EVE! Take note.” Randy glances down at his watch and back at the terrified film cast. “Well, Chet earned you all the right to take five. See you all on set soon.” Randy waltzes off the set, but not before giving eve a death stare. 

“I fucking hate that creep.” Eve said to her friend Caroline, who was laying across from her on the italian leather couch.  “Eh, you get used to it. I mean, hell, I’ve been placed damn near every one of his casts and it’s basically the same song and dance. No matter how hard you try, he will make you repeat takes, Over and over again. You do the same things and he gets the same result. Personally, I think he does it until he gets tired.” She says looking at her. “Don’t let it get to you.” 

“That’s the thing Caroline, it does get to me. Everything was the complete opposite since my first day shooting. He was vibrant, likable even, but now he somehow managed to turn not only himself, but the entire cast and crew against me. You’re legit the ONLY one who will talk to me.” Caroline blinks twice and yawns. “Well, I’m not talking to you. I’m your fucking dog, you fool.” Caroline says.

“Oh.” Eve says. 

“As the designated therapy dog for everyone in Randy's movies, I’m used to having to listen to my master’s bullshit, over and over again. In the end though, it’s the same result. Always.”

“...What’s that? I didn’t hear you.” Eve said, focusing on removing her makeup in the mirror. 

“Oh, haha. Very hilarious. Maybe I should give Kevin Hart a call and tell him he has some new competition.” 

“Oh, Puh-Lease, shouldn’t you be sniffing your asshole or something?” 

“Well maybe you should--” 

A loud knock banged on the trailer door. A deep gruff voice spoke. “Eve Kraken? Are you decent?” the person on the other door said. Another voice spoke a bit more quietly. “Why don’t we just kick that bitches door down. She’s probably busy talking up her next toy for the evening anyways.” Eve gritted her teeth and slammed down the makeup wipes she had in her hand and marched to the door swinging it open with force. It was one of the producers. “Miss Kraken, we need you on set like right now.” Randy stepped in front of the producer. “You stupid fucking bitch.” he said angrily. “You took off your goddamn makeup, didn’t you?” 

“Well you said take five, so I was gonna re apply the makeup for the next scene we are gonna do.” she said, honestly.

“The next scene? The next scene. Davis, you hear her? The next scene. Bitch, We are still on the scene that you can’t fucking get right in the first fucking place.” Randy said sternly through closed teeth and clenched fists. “Just put on your fucking makeup and get your tight ass back on set before I give you two black eyeshadows that will take fucking weeks to get off. That’s not a threat. It’s a promise.” His Rum and Cigar breathe spread out on her face like a wave of pure disgust and hatred. She felt numb. All of his words had invoked a certain fear and rage inside her. This wasn’t just today, you see. This was everyday for Eve. She HATED randy. She FEARED Randy. The check she would receive every week for this treatment, seemed not even worth it. She gulped. “Yes, Randy. I'll be on set in five, please just, five.” Randy gruffed and walked away. The producer shuts the door, before briefly saying “Way to go, retard. Now we’ll all pay.” Once she can hear their footsteps fade away from the trailer, Eve screams. A trail of tears drip down her face as she punches her makeup desk over and over under her hands are bruised and bloodied. A small knife rumbles and tumbles off the desk. And onto the floor, making a slight, but noticeable clunking noise onto her hard wood floors. Eve looks down at it and kneels down at the small blade. 

“Take it.” Eve looks up at Caroline who was now sitting across from her. 

“What?” Eve said.

“Take the fucking knife and kill the fucker.” Caroline said to Eve. 

“Your mouth, it’s moving..” Eve said startled. 

“I know. Get the knife. Now.”

The knife that once sat between the now talking canine and distressed girl was now neatly tucked in Eve’s hand. It’s settled. 

**********************************************************************

“Come in.”

Randy said after three knocks on his office door.  He put down his cigar and pencil, drawing his attention away from his notepad to the disheveled Eve. Her knuckles were bloody and bruised. Her eyes were puffy and red from the tears she shedded. She had a knife in her hand. 

“The fuck are you doing in here. I told you to get your tight ass on set.” 

“Why?” Eve said calmly walking towards his desk. 

“Bitch, why? We have a fucking movie to shoot and you can’t get a fucking simple scene right. That’s why. Now get out of my office.” 

“Why do you act so cold hearted towards me?”

“What? Listen either get out of my office or I will make you get out.”

“Oh I'd like to see you try.” Eve whips around and shuts and locks the door and slams her bruised hands on his desk. 

“Now, tell me now. Before I do something, I am going to regret it.” 

“Bitch I don’t owe you a goddamn thing,” Randy sits up staring her dead in the face. “Now, go back on fucking set or so help me g--” Eve’s hand whips up and send her knife straight under the directors chin, slicing his throat. The adrenaline sends her into a fit of rage and she leaps onto his lap over the desk and continues to stab him repeatedly in the shoulders and head, crying and screaming. “IHATEYOUIHATEYOUIHATEYOUIHATEYOUIHATEYOUIHATEYOUIHATEYOUIHATEYOUIHATEYOUIHATEYOU”. Eventually she ceases. Now covered in her tormentor's blood, she cries in his lap. She sniffles and starts to walk towards the door. She knows she’s going to jail. She knows that her life is over. But jail is no comparison to the hell she had to endure from him.  She notices on Randy’s Desk a yellow notepad with her name etched at the top. The color and font of the blue ink pressed on the pad was old and it cried out to the girl, begging her to read it. Eve wiped her hands on Randy’s pants and picked up the notepad and started reading it’s contents:

EVE

The Art of filmmaking doesn’t oftentimes require the effort put forth upon the actors cast and crew. It’s also the director to get their actors to put in their best efforts. Eve was my ultimate test to this new philosophy I created. I didn’t pick her for her acting talent alone, no. I picked her because she grew up well. Two loving parents, upper-middle class lifestyle in Los Angeles, plenty of friends etc. Knowing this and her talent in horror movies, I understand that there may be a grey area when it comes to achieving true fear and paranoia and capturing it on film. So, much rather than encouraging her to undergo method acting, I am going to be doing  a little bit of acting myself. I must belittle, hurt, bully, and cut her down to my best of efforts. She will HATE me. This however will develop a true sense of fear. She will no longer be acting because chet is chasing her character. She will be acting because she will be in fear of me causing more harm to her. This publication will be proof to other directors to follow my footsteps to really push their actors to their limits. I will continually be posting updates on this project of mine during my time filming my horror film. 

Eve covered her mouth in shock. He wasn’t the villain in this story. He just wanted a genuine reaction out of her. To capture a real piece of human terror on film. She couldn’t believe it. She didn’t know what to do. She teared up as she began to tremble in fear. Her eyes darted back and forth between Randy’s corpse and the Notepad. She just killed a man. The blood was on her hands. There are knocks on the door. Fuck, What should she do. She can’t run. The office is blocked off. They’re calling for Randy. Shit, Shit, SHIT. She’s trapped. This is her first of many cells. Her room to sit in her regret before the mental regret of her actions. The door is barged in and Chet walks in still in his killer costume. He glances over at the body and over at her.

Motionlessly looks at her.

It’s all over for her.

“AAAANNNNNNNNNNND CUT”

“Eve that was fantastic work, your reaction was fucking perfect.” Said the director. 

Eve helped up Randy, who had trouble getting up after she sat on his lap.

“Do we have to do that again, since it was perfect?” Randy said whinyily 

“Unfortunately yes. Over and Over again.”

[laseroy89]

Don’t Do It Again.

My right cheek felt warm. The sun’s rays filtered through the slits in the curtain, and shone on my face. I rubbed the crust from my eyes, then sat up to stretch, flexing and curving my back. It was so satisfying, to hear my back crack, and feel the tension ease away.

I closed my eyes, soaking in the sounds of the morning. The birds were chirping without a care in the world, and rustled the leaves as they jumped around in the tree directly outside my window, looking for the ripe berries. The wind chimes in my neighbour’s backyard jingled in the gentle breeze, playing a calming melody. There was the sound of children playing happily in the distance, probably at the playground just a stone’s throw away from here. I opened my eyes and looked to my side immediately to see my phone’s screen flashing some words against a white background.

DON’T DO IT AGAIN.

Don’t do what? I was puzzled, and also a little angry. The dark bold words spanned my phone’s screen, and burnt into my retina as I continued staring at it. It wasn’t just a warning or a precaution, it was like….scolding me. For something I did wrong. What did I do? I don’t remember anything….I only remembered collapsing on my bed, tired after a long day of work. What wrong can a tired man do? Wasn’t it enough that I slaved at my laboratory everyday, to put food on the table? Wasn’t it? WASN’T IT?

“WHAT DID I DO!!!!!” I raged at my phone, my spittle splashing on my phone screen. The display sputtered a little, showed some static, before returning back to my ordinary home screen.

Phew. It was comforting, to see my wife on my home screen. Her lips, curved up in a beautiful grin. Her dimples, ever so cute. And her eyes, normally so large and mesmerising that I would lose myself in them, but were half-closed in the middle of a laugh. I touched her face with my thumb, only to open my planner app.

Hmmm. It was Saturday. Today’s breakfast was peanut butter and banana on toast. What a healthy and filling meal to start off a splendid morning.

I made my way towards the kitchen to make my breakfast, humming as I prepared my meal. I thought about my wife, as I coated each slice of toasted bread with a thick layer of peanut butter. She would have done the same, lavishing me with copious amounts of goodies, then giggled and complained that I ate too much. Then I would just shake my head and give her a peanut-butter stained smile which would have made her laugh out even more.

She was always the giggly type. She giggled when we cuddled in bed, she giggled when I gave her a goodbye kiss whenever I left for work, and she giggled when we binge-watched our tv shows.

I missed her giggles.  

I carried the plate over to my favourite wicker chair on my porch, and sat down with a grunt. My position overlooked the street in front of my home, which wasn’t very busy, one of the perks of living in a quiet neighbourhood. I remembered the previous house we lived in - it was just beside one of the main roads going into the city and boy, was it noisy then.

I picked up the newspaper that the paper boy had thrown beside the chair.

Man found dead at the roadside. Okay. Some bad news to start the day.

I read on.

The person was found dead on the grass patch right beside the junction where Barron Lane and Avery Road intersected, which was….just down the road. The police has ruled it a death due to unnatural causes. There were zero clues at the spot. No blood, no accident wreckage, no signs of a struggle, leading the police to infer that the body could have been dumped there. The person was identified to be one Auther Tager, according to the wallet found on his body.

My blood ran cold as I read that name.

I am Auther Tager.

This must be a coincidence. I didn’t know of anyone else in my neighbourhood named Auther Tager, but….well, it is indeed a unique name, but that was the only logical explanation. I mean, I was alive and well, right here with a newspaper in my hand, and two sandwiches next to me.

Until I looked at the photos.

There was a photo of the crime scene, with police tape sealing off the area, and what looked like a navy blue body bag surrounded by police officers. And on the top right of that photo, was a smaller picture of….me. They used the photo on my ID. The ugly one with pimples and my then stupid buck-toothed grin.

That’s just not possible. I am alive. I am alive, GODAMMIT!! There’s a mistake. There’s a mistake. No, there’s a mistake.

But I don’t remember losing my wallet. I patted my pocket. It was there, right there. I opened it to reveal my ID, glinting in the morning sun.

Come on, man. First my wife, then my work-life balance, now - me? Why has life got to be so unfair?

I wolfed down my sandwiches, threw down the newspaper beside my seat, and left for the junction. I needed to find out what was happening.

The junction looked normal. There were cars driving around on the road and there were pedestrians on the sidewalk. Some of them carried bags of groceries, some of them were taking their dogs out for a walk, some of them waited for the traffic light to turn green so that they could cross the road. It was just a regular morning, nothing unusual.

I walked over to the grass patch which was pictured in the newspaper. This must be where my body - or rather, what was mistaken to be my body - was found. There was nothing at the scene to suggest that though. The grass was a lush bright green, but short - must have been mowed recently. There were mynahs and ravens pecking around, foraging for food. Further away from the road, closer to the trees, there were children playing at the playground, while their mothers looked on and chatted about life. It was as if no one remembered that there had been a dead body here.

I’ve seen the crime scene. I needed to see the body, to confirm whether it was me.

The body must have been moved to the morgue at the nearest hospital. It has to be there - I work there, and I know that the police sometimes do autopsies there too. I fished in my pockets for my wallet - but there wasn’t any cash for a cab. Steal a bike it is, then.

Speak of the devil, there was someone cycling towards me now. I squinted, and made out my teenage neighbour, Stanley. He looked so happy, and so….old. He had a moustache now, and looked so fit and muscular. Huh, he had worked out quite a lot since I last saw him.

“Hey Stanley, do you mind if I borrow your bike for a while?” I said in a cheery tone, trying to disguise my urgency.

He stopped and got off his bike, and looked at me, mouth agape. It was funny, seeing his mouth open like that to reveal the chewed up chips inside. He looked like he had just seen a ghost.

Then I remembered I was in quite a hurry.

“Thanks, Stanley! Tell your mom I said hi!” I grabbed his bike out of his open hands, and pedaled away. I looked back after cycling for a while, and he was still there, staring after me. I sighed, and turned back. He was always a bit slow in the head.

The road to the hospital didn’t really look the same as I last remembered it. My memory was quite fuzzy, but I didn’t remember some buildings on the way.

Luckily, the hospital didn’t change much. That ceiling light and air-conditioner unit at the right side of the entrance were still not fixed. The third corridor was still narrow. And the morgue was still located in the basement.

No one seemed to recognise me at my workplace though. The nurses were new, and the doctors, well, were as usual too busy to even look in my direction. I made my way down to the morgue smoothly, which was weird considering how there should have been a greater police presence, since forensic criminologists should be examining the body by now.

However, there was only one person sitting in the morgue: the clerk, sitting at his usual place at the right of the door. It was some twenty-year-old kid, typing some stuff.

I pushed the door open, but it wouldn’t budge. Ah, I forgot that it was keycard activated. I pulled out my card, and slid it into the card reader. It replied with a loud “Access Denied”.

That was impossible. I am an employee of this hospital, I should have access!! I ran it through the reader again, but the same reply sounded again. Shit! Shit! SHIT!! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME!!

The door opened though. The clerk poked his face out.

“Good morning, Dr Tager! Please, come in,” he opened the door wide for me to enter.

“Thanks.” I muttered while keeping my cursed keycard.

“Anything I can help you with?” he asked, with the same smile on his face.

I wanted to ignore him, but I realised that I didn’t come down here very often, and the clerk’s assistance could help a great deal.

“Hey, erm, I’m looking for a body. Can I use your computer to look for its drawer?”

“Oh, no need to trouble yourself, Dr Tager. I can help you do it!!” He sat down, his hands poised over the keyboard, ready to type.

“It’s okay, I think I’ll rather do it myself.”

“Doctor, with all due respect….I am not allowed to let others use the facility’s computer under my keycard. And according to what happened just now….your keycard doesn’t seem to be working.”

Fuck. Well, I had no choice.

“Alright. I’m looking for….Dr Auther Tager.”

“Alright, please wait a moment….C44, Dr Tager.” I scrutinised his face for any signs of shock or fear, but there were none, just a bright smile. Either he was too stupid to link the two names I just gave to him, or he just wanted to be promoted so much that he didn’t care and just wanted to please any superior he could find.

“Thanks.” I walked briskly to Section C.

It was just there, but I was afraid to pull it open. I had hurried here in my rush to know the truth, but now that it was just a few fingertips away….apprehension enveloped me. I didn’t dare to….but I had to. Otherwise, how….how do I live this down?

I pulled the drawer open.

There was a body inside, with the feet sticking out of the loose wrapping. I gingerly reached for the toe tag, and…..it read “Auther Tager”.

It was this body.

I reached inside the wrapping, and carefully pulled the top part open, to reveal the face.

It couldn’t be. But it was. The same nose, the same hairstyle, the same mole near the bottom of the right cheek, that little tattoo of a sun in the hollow above the right clavicle….it was me. I was staring at myself.

A sharp pain erupted from the back of my neck, and suddenly, everything around me blurred. I leaned on the drawer for support, and sank down slowly to my knees. I clutched the back of my neck, and pulled out what seemed to be….a tranquilizer dart.

“Subject 69 is down, I repeat, Subject 69 is down. Dr Larsson, you can conduct your introductory session now.” That sounded suspiciously like that clerk. What an asshole.

I lay down on the floor, dizzy and immobilised. Every part of my body felt like lead. My eyes hurt as the bright fluorescent lights shone directly on my retinae. My fingers hung on the edge of the drawer for a few more laborious seconds before falling on my face.

Boots clattered into the room. Some dark figures loomed over me, giving me some respite from the blinding light.

“This is Subject 69. I know, he looks like your dear neighbour the late Dr Tager, but rest assured, this is not him. I know this is your first day here, and I know this may be shocking to you, Stanley, so….get used to it.”

Wait what? Stanley? A doctor? Okay, good for him….but why would he DO THIS?

“What happened to Dr Tager?” Stanley’s voice came out quite meekly.

I heard Larsson sigh. “Auther loved his wife. A lot. So when she died, Auther sort of went….mad.” I tried to grind my teeth together in anger but even my jaw was paralysed.

“He was still an extremely good doctor, but he dabbled in the occult, trying to bring his wife back, I guess. Now, you and I rational people don’t believe in such foolish stuff, even Auther didn’t, but what he went through….changed him. Of course, Mrs Tager never came back - but something bad, something illogical happened. Remember what happened a few months back?”

Several of the silhouettes nodded.

“A pity, that one. What a talent, wasted like that. Sure, we were both rivals, but I still deeply respected him. You see that one in C44? Yup, that’s him. The real Auther. For some reason, that body refuses to decompose.”

What the fuck.

“Then, ‘he’ keeps on waking up on his bed. We’re still studying why and how that happens. Those versions of him….they look like him, and seemed to retain some of the same memories, but….they are different. After receiving the first few, we realised that they were quite unstable, and could be dangerous to the patients.”

The few silhouettes bent down to grab my limbs, and moved me onto a gurney.

“So we decided to use them instead. Through some trial and error, we conditioned them.” Hands reached into pockets and took out my phone and wallet. “The first step, is to type this on the phone. It’ll provoke him and cloud his judgement even more. Then place them both beside his bed. I’ll give you more details when we visit his house at the end of the day. Come on lads, let’s get a move on. Right now, we have some new organs for transplant.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My right cheek felt warm. The sun’s rays filtered through the slits in the curtain, and shone on my face. I sat up to stretch, flexing and curving my back. It was so satisfying, to hear my back crack, and feel the tension ease away.

I looked to my side to see my phone’s screen flashing some words against a white background.

DON’T DO IT AGAIN.

Don’t do what? I was puzzled, and also a little angry. The dark bold words spanned my phone’s screen, and burnt into my retina as I continued staring at it. It wasn’t just a warning or a precaution, it was like….scolding me. For something I did wrong. What did I do? I don’t remember anything….I only remembered collapsing on my bed, tired after a long day of work. What wrong can a tired man do? Wasn’t it enough that I slaved at my laboratory everyday, to put food on the table? Wasn’t it? WASN’T IT?

“WHAT DID I DO!!!!!” I raged at my phone, my spittle splashing on my phone screen. The display sputtered a little, showed some static, before returning back to my ordinary home screen.

Phew. It was comforting, to see my wife on my home screen. Her lips, curved up in a beautiful grin. Her dimples, ever so cute. And her eyes, normally so large and mesmerising that I would lose myself in them, but were half-closed as she was in the middle of laughing. I touched her face with my thumb, only to open my planner app.

Hmmm. It was Sunday. Today’s breakfast was spinach and poached egg on toast. What a healthy and filling meal to start off a splendid morning.

I made my way towards the kitchen to make my breakfast.

[galacticvampirisms]

I realized I can’t take Benadryl to go to sleep because I’ll sleep through my alarm! So this because there’s no one I can talk to.

Work has been hell again. For the past two or three weekends it has been. The only respite was the one Saturday where I did a school event and and got a $50 Visa gift card. I spent it all on art supplies basically immediately. But the Friday before and Sunday after were awful. The next weekend, I had a dog every day that’d been home-groomed for x amount of time. Longest was ??? The woman’s first language wasn’t English but Mandarin, and I couldn’t communicate effectively with her. But the dog was nigh impossible to safely groom without people staring at me like I was torturing the dog by holding her leg. My boss undermined by special handling fee by arguing through another manager that we should’ve warned her when she first came in about the fee. Guess what, new dog wtf. Okay, well we should’ve called her. Bitch barely understood me at check in, she didn’t understand that her dog was done when I called her, and she definitely would not understand why Princess was more expensive. Okay, well we should’ve done it so you’re out $7. And my coworker was all “oh she wasn’t that bad.” You. Weren’t. There. Bitch. And of course the woman still had a bitch fit about the cost. The manager without a brain that the store leader was speaking through removed the hand from his ass long enough to agree later that she was crazy. You think?

This weekend so far someone deleted my block today and I had a dachshund try to take my finger off while in the kennel. I refused to do it and warned the owner, who came back with my request dog’s family (all related), in tears as I was leaving. Nevermind Friday I was so emotionally fragile I spend most of the time crying, and then my boss, the puppetmaster idiot, told me and the bather to move all the tables and drawers to the back of the salon so the floors could be stripped and waxed overnight. The bather is kinda useless as anything but a receptionist (can’t cut nails ever, tried to pawn a puppy off on me, but she’s quitting to get trained by a mobile grooming company so that’s gonna end well lmao), and she had just hurt her back. The tables alone are like 80-110 lbs. I asked who was going to help me and when he laughed I got mad. Btw, they didn’t do shit to the floors in the salon so the entire venture was useless. If I’m still working when it happens again, I will refuse to move anything the first night because this is the third time that’s happened.

 I want to quit when my contract is up if I can find a job that A. let’s me work Friday-Sunday and earn the same amount I currently do if not more (am willing to work 10 hour shifts tho) B. Gives me the chance to become full time if grad school doesn’t work out the way I want it to and C. Doesn’t have dickass for a boss like my store leader. So I’m looking at a private grooming company, and I’m anxious because I called and they requested a resume and I don’t know how far back I should write my jobs because I’ve had too many.

One of the zines I’ve been working on has been having me screaming. In contrast, the other has been lovely. They pushed back pre-orders a bit because I told them I was too overwhelmed with finals and everything. But once I get the first zine’s final piece done I’m quitting and never looking back at their shit again or joining zines led by them.

I had my first HRT shot and nothing’s really different. I don’t think it helped that I lowkey have a cold or something with pollen going on so if anything happened to my voice at all it was masked by that (Wednesday I did have a very hoarse throat all of a sudden that went away so I’m uncertain?) I also accidentally sedated myself Tuesday and missed most of my classes. I keep saying it as a joke (dog groomer, sedated dogs, also I’m an idiot with medicine) but it actually put a lot of extra stress on me with school and I’ve been even more vulnerable about shit because of it. I feel like I’m going to fail my classes even though I have 2/4 projects done and some of the extra prints I’m doing are bonus, while the paintings aren’t due until Thursday. 

I had a nightmare about school. And about this guy I like(d). He’s dating. The emotionless cyborg is dating, and he’s too busy to do things like DnD (why did I ever get my hopes up that it’d actually happen). And I’m still alone. With a stupid crush and stupid nightmares and stupid him bought stupid tickets to the thing stupid me introduced him to. Everyone is dating and fucking and together and I’m going to be alone. Forever. It feels like it will be that way at least.

I feel like the villain with my best friend. He’s upset that I’m burnt out on a particular muse and apparently in my Benadryl-induced stupor when he said one of the words I hate (it’d never come up before so it’s not like he did it on purpose), I had an extremely averse reaction. He didn’t talk to me all the next day except to say I was being over-dramatic, which really pissed me off. Apparently he can’t be bothered to remember I care very much about words or that he has a mechanism in place to step away from a conversation and discuss it later, but he has to tell me the time he’ll come back. 

I was mostly settled after a long and emotional conversation where I kept crying as I admitted some of my more stupid insecurities. Shit like how even though I really, genuinely am happy that he has a fallback for his anxiety in tumblr that I still get tied up inside knowing he interacts with people who hated me. Partly drove me away from RP and has me convinced to never go back, even if I had the time. He talks about how D is talked about all the time on his roleplay account but I don’t see it ever. It’s always really bad habits D tried to break his muse of to make a more supportive family. 

He’s burnt out on me. He was upset that I was burnt out on Dwayne and felt rejected but how am I supposed to feel about the opposite? I try to play it like it’s just a joke to me or something, but it hurts. So badly. I wasn’t rejecting him; I tried all the different ways I could to keep going. But I used to get to rp in 3-4 different universes, with different characters, and that variety made it so I didn’t feel like I was dragging my feet through the same dirt all the time. 

That doesn’t make sense as a metaphor but it does to me.

It also hurts that I can’t find some way to rp that doesn’t depend on him. It’s not for lack of trying. I’ve gone to about 3-4 dramwidth groups (some he doesn’t know about because I had kinda gone in with a downer attitude if I’m honest). RP has always been an anxiety relief for me when it’s with someone I trust. But that’s just him now (thought the DnD group would be that but it’s never gonna happen is it). 

I can’t get anyone to talk to me at all, and I don’t have therapy until Monday, and if I wasn’t so tired and anxious about having 6 dogs tomorrow and moving everything back again (the tables too I’m sure if they actually keep their word about doing the floors in the salon), I’d be up and either overeating or doing something dumb to make myself hurt. But I’m already doing that anyway os.

[the--blackdahlia]

Red Dawn Final Chapter (SPN AU)

Title: Red Dawn Final Chapter

Summary:  Calumet, Colorado is just a normal, American town. And the Winchesters are just a normal family. Until war breaks out on their doorstep. Now, they have to fight not only for their lives, but the lives of their friends, neighbors, and all of America. Based off the Red Dawn movies.

Warnings: Brief language

AN: Thank you so much for everyone who read this train wreck! I hope you liked reading it as much as I liked writing it!

Twelve Years Later

“This year is the tenth anniversary since the defeat of North Korean forces and the reclaiming of the United States. Several events are going on not only today, but all week. There is a memorial service on the front lawn of the White House today, followed by a nationwide moment of silence. Several rebuilt cities are hosting festivities including firework shows. July 4th is a big event, but this gives newer generations a taste of what is worth fighting for…”

“I’m tired of hearing this every year.” Benny grumbled, cleaning glasses behind the bar. Retirement looked good on him. He had taken a job at Sal’s not long after Operation Reclaim. The colonel was finally ready to relax and more than willing to break up a bar fight here or there.

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad.” Jo said, setting her tray on the bar and dropping off a couple beer steins. “It’s patriotic.” Benny shook his head and took the glasses from her. The bell above the door rang then and Benny smiled as Lisa came in.

“Hey honey.” Benny said, walking from around the bar to place a kiss on her lips. “Long night?”

“Tell me about it.” She groaned. “I was going to go pick Ben up from daycare, but he’s asleep so I just thought I’d let him be for a little bit.” Benny smirked and went back around to pour Lisa a beer.

“Jimmy invited us all to mass tonight.” Jo said. “Mom said I should go. Said church would do me some good.”

“I’ve made my peace with god. We’re good now.” Benny said with a shrug. Lisa was about to say something when a noise outside caught her attention. She turned to look out the glass door and gasped at what she saw.

A black, 1967 Chevy Impala drove by the bar.

“Is that…” Jo started, looking from Benny to Lisa. Lisa set her beer down and went to the door.

“He’s back.” She said. Benny looked around the bar and found it empty. Everyone who had been here had to go back to work or the festivities in town. He turned the Open sign off and turned off the lights.

“Let’s go see him then.” He said.

****

The car made the trek up the road towards the forest, which was now a state park. People came with their kids to have picnics and camp, many knowing about what happened on this mountain, but someday it would just be a page in the history books and the people who came out here wouldn’t know from a first-hand source what had happened here. On the edge of the forest, in a clearing, set several boulders. A plaque was anchored to one of the boulders, explaining the significance of the boulders. The Impala parked right there, right by that memorial.

The driver’s door opened up and Dean Winchester climbed out. His skin had been kissed by the sun on his travels, making him a couple shades tanner than he had been when he left Colorado years ago. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes, hiding the green orbs from anyone. A baseball cap that said San Jac’s Saloon was on his head. He had worked there for a couple months while living in Austin. He had worked a lot of places for not very many months, just trying to keep himself busy. He took note of some people standing around the boulder, staring at the names and other things carved into it.

“This stands a memorial for the brave men and women who died during the North Korean occupation of the United States,” A man read to his kids. “These people died so that we could live, and we must remember them. This stands so that people can also remember the Hunters, a group of kids and young adults who fought to keep Calumet safe for another day…”

Dean nodded along as he read the names on the stone. John Winchester, Mark Pellegrino, Jessica Moore, Caleb Padalecki, Rick Padalecki, Rufus Turner, as well as a few other names that hadn’t been there when Dean left. But one name was missing, and that bugged him more than anything. Pulling out a pocket knife he had gotten while working in Georgia, Dean climbed up on the rock.

“Hey! I don’t think you’re supposed to be up there.” The woman that was there with the man and kids said. Dean ignored her, climbing to the top and starting to carve Sam’s name into the stone like Sam had done with all the others.

“Hey!” The man said. Dean glared down at him, gripping his knife. The man raised his hands. “Uh…never mind.” He quickly led the woman and the kids away from Dean.

“Stupid asshole.” Dean grumbled to himself. He slid down to the ground after he finished his work. Sam Winchester. His name deserved to be up there with all the others. He deserved so much more than what he got. But Dean couldn’t fix that. This was the best he could go.

“I saw your book.” A voice said behind Dean. He spun around and saw Crowley standing there. He was wearing a police uniform, something that surprised Dean. He always expected an orange jumpsuit. “It’s really good. Sam’s journal. That was a good idea.”

“Hey Crowley.” Dean said, folding up his pocket knife. “How’d you know I’d be here?”

“A vintage ’67 Chevy Impala comes into town and people talk.” He said with a shrug. “They all want to see you.”

“I can’t. Not with the way I left.” Dean said. “I’m just stopping through. Have an appointment with a woman named Jenny. She lives in the old house and has things that were left.” He looked Crowley up and down. “And since when did you get on the right side of the law?”

“Since you ran off and inspired people.” Crowley explained. “You and Sam saved a lot of people. I figure that I might as well follow you’re example.” Dean sighed. “Jimmy is hosting a mass tonight. More of a get together for the surviving Hunters. Please come.”

“Crowley…”

“There will be food.” Crowley said with a shrug. Dean sighed.

“We’ll see.” He turned and headed for his car, leaving Crowley standing there by his own.

****

“Mommy, is this going to be boring?” Ben asked as Lisa carried him into the church. While it would be a mass, it was really more of a reunion for the hunters that remained in Calumet, or the ones that had survived the occupation.

“No honey. It’ll be fun.” Lisa said, ruffling his hair. “And Aunt Meg and Uncle Cas will be here. I know how much you love them.” Benny watched his wife and son with a pleased smile on his face.

Soon, Benny, Lisa, Jo, Cas, Crowley, Meg, Ruby, and Bobby gathered in the first few pews of Jimmy’s church. Ben set between Benny and Lisa, staring at the beautiful stain glass windows and amazing artwork. Jimmy looked around at everyone, sighing a little.

“I’m glad to see everyone here.” He said. He was about to start his small sermon before the food was served when the doors to the church opened. Everyone turned around to look.

“Mom, who’s that?” Ben asked. Lisa stood up and raced down the aisle to him, wrapping her arms around him.

“Dean.” Lisa gasped, hugging him tightly. She pulled back after a second. “Where the fuck have you been?! Sorry Jimmy.”

“Acceptable in this case.” Jimmy said, waving her off. Dean took the hat off his head.

“Everywhere.” He said. “I stayed in Free America until the occupation was over. Then I travelled the country. Anywhere I could to keep my mind off of things. Published Sam’s journal, minus a page or two.” He looked around at everyone staring at him, including a little boy he had never seen before. “This can all wait though.”

“I think the lord would rather hear this story than me telling his word right now.” Jimmy said. Dean shook his head. He didn’t want to get into this right now. He didn’t even really want to be here, but talking to some of the old neighbors who had gotten their homes back and seeing Crowley up at the mountain made Dean think. And he decided it was best after all these years to tell them he wasn’t dead. He sighed and set in a pew. Everyone turned so they could see him.

“Well, after I left, I headed towards deep Free America. I hung out there for a while, doing some training for Special Forces who would go to drive the enemy out. Once that happened, I bounced from state to state. Texas for a few months, New York, hell I even ended up in Canada for a while. But after all that running, I got tired. I figured it was time I came home.” Dean explained.

“We’re glad you’re back.” Jimmy said. “If you need a place to stay, I’m sure that many of us would open our homes to you.” Dean nodded and settled into the pew. Plans could be made later. Right now, Dean just wanted to listen and forget for a while.

****

Months Later

A mountains still were a beautiful backdrop to Calumet. The roads had been repaved during reconstruction, taking away potholes and unnecessary bumps. The McDonald’s with the burnt out M had been upgraded and was now partnered with a gas station. “Eat here and get gas” was a popular joke among the locals. The inside was new though, and it still was a popular place for breakfast.

The movie theater had been updated with a digital projector. But it mainly showed vintage films on the weekends and kids movies during the week when schools were on a break. There was a multi-cinema not too far away that housed newer films. Currently, there was an Elvis movie on the marquee. Viva Las Vegas and Jailhouse Rock would be on screen this weekend.

The parking lot of the high school was finally paved. There were a lot of divots in the gravel from tanks and other machines tearing it up. The Wolverine had been painted, standing out against the old building now. There was a memorial in the main hall of the high school, to remember the former students of Calumet who had fought hard and proud to keep the town safe.

Dean Winchester took it all in as he drove from the small house he had bought on his old street. Two down from the one he used to live in with his brother and dad. He had gotten a job at the old garage his dad worked at. The owner had welcomed Dean with open arms, after making Dean promise that he wasn’t going to jump ship after a couple months. So Dean made the trek from home to work, a Blue Oyster Cult song soundtrack for his drive.

The End

Tag List: @petrovadixon @theas-bedtime-stories @aiaranradnay @policeofficerdean @blacktithe7 @af112992 @dekahg

[getsterekt]

FIC RECS

in honor of gaining another hundred followers on my twitter account @getsterREKT heres another rec list. 

This will just be made up of lots and lots of different types of fics. Make sure to read the warnings for each fic before reading. 

(fics with ** are favorites)

It Takes A Village by  Hypocorismm

Stiles's used to yogurt handprints on his shirts from where he picked her up, and he's used to snot on his shoulders and neck from where she cried after a bad dream. He's used to her legendary tantrums when she doesn't get her way, her eyes glowing ferocious gold. He's used to being the village it takes to raise her, and the pack she longs for.

Except, he needs the pack's help, and Derek's protection when a particularly power-hungry pack wants his cub. And he isn't used to sharing.

WORDS: 49227

RATING: Mature

CHAPTERS: 35/35

WARNINGS: angst, kidnapping, mpreg.

Night Stroll by  Marishna

"Is it night there?"

Derek chuckled. "Yeah, it is. How do you know where I am?"

"I don't, that's why it's weird it's night. That puts you in... Europe?" Stiles asked after some quick math.

Derek raised an eyebrow. "Spain. You haven't lost that..." Derek waved his hand. "Stileness."

WORDS: 3276

RATING: Teen and Up

CHAPTER: 1/1

WARNINGS: derek has insomnia??? is that a warning??? idk

****Prince Among Wolves by  tylerfucklin (Deshonanana)

Looking for full day/evening sitter. 2 twin boys age 4. Must have exp. w/werewolves. Must be human. No pedophiles. No teenage girls. Pay negotiable. 

WORDS: 101,000

RATING: Explicit

CHAPTERS: 20/20

WARNINGS: mild transphobia, derek learns acceptance, broken family, so much angst

Walking Into Darkness by  alenie

Derek hears Stiles before he sees him. There's anxious, wheezy breathing coming from the next aisle over in the grocery store, accompanied by a racing heart and the smell of unwashed sneakers and hair gel. He turns the corner and Stiles is standing frozen in the dairy aisle, knuckles clenched around the metal of his shopping basket.

WORDS: 6342

RATING: Teen and Up

CHAPTERS: 1/1

WARNINGS: panic attacks, anxiety, depression, post 3b, pre-sterek relationship 

****Ashes, Ashes by  ShanaStoryteller

The Sheriff gets a call at work - someone's tried to burn down his home with his son inside.

"I thought of you coming here, and finding me dead, of another burnt out husk of a body, something else fire has stolen from you, of you having nothing left to grasp but ashes," John can't even call that a whimper, it's clearly a whine as Derek's hands tighten against Stile's hips, as if his boy will shudder to dust at the mere mention of the possibility unless Derek's hands can hold him into one piece, "and that thought was worse than dying."

WORDS: 2699

RATING: Teen And Up

CHAPTERS:1/1

WARNINGS: so much angst, stiles nearly burns to death

Just Realize What I Just Realized by  literaryoblivion

He’s never noticed it before; it’s always just been second nature to him these days, does it out of habit, but it’s not until he stops to actually think about it that it becomes abundantly and embarrassingly clear to him that he is in love with Stiles and that they are practically dating without the actual dating part…

WORDS: 2529

RATING: Teen And Up

CHAPTERS: 1/1

WARNINGS: a lil angst, (but mostly fluff)

The Potential Fatality of Assuming by  crossroadswrite

The hair, the buttons and the general happy and slightly tired disposition with which Derek came back from his secret exploits were as obvious as a glaring neon sign flashing the words JUST GOT LAID.

A sign that Stiles ignored because he had a seven year plan god damn it.

(OR: in which Stiles assumes things, gets accosted by the sister he never/always wanted, discovers he was horribly wrong, almost dies via Derek Hale with kids, can't handle all that collarbone action, uses tickling as the ultimate mode of revenge, and gets a boyfriend. In that order.)

WORDS: 2196

RATING: General

CHAPTERS: 1/1

WARNINGS: misunderstandings, because stiles is dumb, lots of pining

****If I Could Trade Mistakes For Sheep, Count Me Away Before You Sleep by  alisaj

"Thing is, Stiles," Derek says, his voice hard and unfaltering. "I didn't sign up for you. You just hung around until we got used to you being here."

That stings. He hadn't realised how Derek feels about him. They've been getting on quite well, teaming up on little missions and bantering back and forth without malice. Stiles sometimes lets Derek crash in his room after a big fight, trying not to let on how intriguing he finds the werewolf.

"Well now we can get used to you not being here. You're a liability, Stilinski. You can't protect yourself and we always end up having to help you when we've got more important things to do. You're out of the pack."

or

The one where Derek is a terrible Alpha and Stiles ends up walking into a big pile of shit.

WORDS: 33,383

RATING: Explicit

CHAPTERS: 1/1

WARNINGS: stiles gets kicked out of the pack, derek is stupid, like, so stupid, stiles gets hurt, theres so much angst in this like wtf, stiles is sad, the pack sucks

Sour Kush (series) by alisvolatpropiis

Stiles mentally curses Erica, because in all of her warnings about how brusque this guy could be, she forgot mention that he’s also hotter than the fucking sun. If Stiles had any lingering questions about his sexuality, they’d be completely settled by what this guy is doing to him. In fact, he might not even be gay anymore. He might be in the midst of crossing into some yet-to-be-named sexuality that’s all about a scruffy black beard and alarming green eyes and muscles and tattoos and this guy’s everything ever.

The guy’s name is Derek, his lust-addled brain supplies distantly.

Well that settles it, then. Stiles is Dereksexual.

WORKS: 3

COMPLETE: it says no but they havent updated in like over 2 years so im guessing its done

WORDS: 15,392

RATING: Explict 

WARNINGS: everyone is stoned all the time, also in work 2 stiles is hurt because he thinks derek is getting it on with parrish, they’re dumb, age difference, derek has a beardddd 

I Just Want You For My Own (More Than You Could Ever Know) by  yodasyoyo

“What is with that sweater, dude?”

Derek ducks his head to look at it, abashed. “Uh- Mrs Hernandez knitted it for me. It’s an early Christmas gift.” He smooths it down self-consciously.

Stiles cocks an eyebrow.

“What? She’s my neighbor and sometimes I-” Derek trails off. Stiles’ other eyebrow rises to join the first, and Derek sighs. “Sometimes I help her carry her shopping.”

Of course he does. One day maybe Stiles will stop being in love with Derek Hale, but today is not that day.

WORDS: 16,065

RATING: Teen And Up

CHAPTERS: 4/4

WARNINGS: pining, fake relationships, they’re both idiots. 

Baby You’re Beautiful by  supernaynay

“God you’re beautiful.”

Derek hadn’t even realized that the words had left his mouth until the whole room went silent, including Stiles, who until about five seconds earlier was busy yelling at him for putting himself in danger yet again.

WORDS: 1089

RATING: General

CHAPTERS: 1/1

WARNINGS: derek is hit with a truth spell

****(Sacred) In The Ordinary by  idyll

The Pack, after college, graduate school and the starting of careers, comes back to Beacon Hills. Nothing's gotten less complicated after all this time.

Based on a kink meme prompt that grew legs and got serious.

Note: This is a whole lot of pack!fic with a very slow build Derek/Stiles.

WORDS: 78,759

RATING: Explicit

CHAPTERS: 9/9

WARNINGS: violence, slow build

Cause I Built a Home (For You, For Me) by  noneedforhystereks

Mechanic!Derek and Daddy!Stiles

Derek Hale is a mechanic in the sleepy town of Beacon Hills, where he has lived all of his life. He spends his day in a simple routine: wake up, fix cars, go home, sleep. It's what he's good at, and it keeps things simple and uncomplicated. Derek doesn't let people in and remains emotionally distant from everyone except his sister, Laura, and her daughter. This all changes when Boyd tows in an old blue Jeep that needs a lot of work and Derek meets the owner of said Jeep.

Because once Derek meets Stiles and his kids, he can't stop himself from caring. And he doesn't want to stop.

WORDS: 59,719

RATING: Explicit

CHAPTERS: 15/15

WARNINGS: angst, pining, emotional hurt, stiles has a lot of baggage. 

Waiting For Our Superman by  tearsandholdme

Derek knew the moment he opened the front door of his clean and pristine apartment to Stiles Stilinski holding a small boy, a cluster of bags, and a suitcase, he was screwed. In every way possible. Undone by the big brown eyes of a small child and his annoying, witty, and attractive father.

WORDS: 95,240

RATING: Mature

CHAPTERS: 22/22

WARNINGS: angst, mpreg, emotional hurt, overprotective derek

Adding You to My Future by  NekoIzumi

“So, I'm Stiles.” he smiled warmly once he had put his unannounced patient down on the exam table. “I will poke and prod you a little bit to check for internal injuries, those that I can’t see because they're inside you, and some of it might hurt but it will pass, I promise. I will tell you everything I'm about to do and why I'm doing it so just stay calm and this will go like a breeze, okay?”

Now, Stiles wasn’t stupid in any way, shape or form, he knew a were when he saw one… although he had obviously never seen a werecat before, and definitely not one as young as this one.

WORDS: 42,252

RATING: Explicit

CHAPTERS:9/9

WARNINGS: violence, like, lots of violence, slow build, gore, emotional comfort, bamf stiles

Stars Plummet: a Christmas Story by  Peckishdragon

When Stiles left Beacon Hills, he never thought he would be coming back. Eight years later, he is coming home for Christmas, with a small passenger in tow. Old feelings, never forgotten, are rekindled.

WORDS: 11,589

RATING: Mature

CHAPTERS: 6/6

WARNINGS: a lil violence, like a tiny bit, 

All They Have by  Nival_Vixen

Single dads AU where Derek and Stiles meet because Derek’s daughter and Stiles’ trans son become friends at school.

WORDS: 4004

RATING: Teen And Up

CHAPTERS: 1/1

WARNINGS: trans child, which leads to ignorant adults being ugly fucks, protective derek 

love comes in all shapes and sizes by  trilliastra

“Daddy says that when I’m in trouble I should get the police because they always help us. You’re going to help me, right?” Stiles smiles at her, happy that today he decided to stop by the grocery store to buy milk after his shift instead of going straight home. At least now he’s able to help the little girl, who knows what would have happened to her if he weren’t around.

“Of course I will.” He smiles again. “What’s your name?”

“Rebecca Hale.” She answers proudly. “My daddy is Derek Hale.”

WORDS: 2207

RATING: Teen and Up

CHAPTERS: 1/1

WARNINGS: kate argent

When You Wish Upon a Dragon by  lupinus

Stiles is at the Hale house, lounging on the front stoop watching Isaac, Erica, and Boyd wrestle, when the baby comes running out of the woods. Derek becomes instant father to a magically appearing baby and falls in love. Stiles can’t take the cute and worries Derek’s heart will break if he loses the kid. 

or, a dragon gives derek a baby, stiles is oblivious, steve just loves his bright pink rocking unicorn and his da and ma 

WORDS: 13,739

RATING: Teen and Up

CHAPTERS: 1/1

WARNINGS: none, but so much fluff

****Lucky That I’m Yours Every Day by  stilinskisparkles

Derek doesn't see how Valentine's Day can get any better than a normal day with Stiles.

WORDS: 6772

RATING: Teen and Up

CHAPTERS: 1/1

WARNINGS: fluff. just. all the fluff. its disgusting how fluffy it is really.

Relationship Status: It’s Complicated by  kellifer_fic

Okay, I know this is a huge stretch for you, but can you please pretend you're like, into me?

WORDS: 4010

RATING: Mature

CHAPTERS: 1/1

WARNING: mentioned stiles/omc 

***************Shot Through The Heart by  LunaCanisLupus_22

All they've given him is the guy’s head shot. And it’s terrible because now he is ridding the world of one more ridiculously attractive, instant pants dropping- take me now, if you please- regulation hottie.

Even if he has a scowl to rival Kirsten Stewart.

Or the one when Stiles and Derek work for rival assassin companies and are sent to kill each other. It definitely doesn't go as planned.

WORDS: 64,833

RATING: Explicit

CHAPTERS: 12/12

WARNINGS: so much violence, they literally try to kill eachother, enemies to lovers pretty much

will to follow through by  owlpostagain

“It depends entirely on how you look at it, I guess,” Stiles shrugs. “On the one hand, instant healing and the apparently inherited ability to pull off leather at all times. On the other, serious attitude problems and a suspicious disappearance of eyebrows.”

“Even Derek’s?” Danny snorts, “that’s a lot of eyebrow to lose.”

“I know,” Stiles agrees. “You should see, it’s so weird. Every time I want to ask him where they go, except he’d totally eat my face off.”

“There are worse ways to die.”

WORDS: 42,411

RATING: Teen and Up

CHAPTERS: 2/2

WARNINGS: angst, mentions of violence, 

Professor D. Hale (series) by  har1ey_quinn

A series of outsider POVs on Professor Hale and his significant other (with some guest appearances from the pack)

WORKS: 7

COMPLETE: possibly

WORDS: 18,008

RATING: Teen and Up

WARNINGS: none

go on without me!!!! (or the one where stiles is cursed by witches and overreacts to everything) by  day

Stiles is cursed by witches and he can't react like a normal human being. Scott is a terrible best friend and can't stop laughing. Derek just wants it all to be over.

WORDS: 1396

RATING: General

CHAPTERS: 1/1

WARNINGS: crack

******For My Next Trick, I'll Regret All of My Life Choices: a performance by Derek Hale and 80% of his eyebrows by  crossroadswrite

(978): I woke up missing my shoes and my left eyebrow. MY. EYEBROW. . “What’s wrong with my eyebrows?”

Kira gives him a sympathetic look, and climbs up to sit next to him, “You kind of… don’t have one.”

“I what!” he shouts, wincing at the volume of his own voice.

Kira pats him on the shoulder and shoves a piece of toast in his hand.

“It’s not that bad,” she tries to console him with a smile, then glances up at his left eyebrow and winces, “It could definitely be worse. It’s not all gone. Just. Half of it.”

Derek considers crying into his orange juice but decides that would be a waste and because his mother taught him how to be a good guest he opts to drink it instead.

WORDS: 2566

RATING: Teen and Up

CHAPTERS: 1/1

WARNINGS: none buT THIS FIC IS AN ALL TIME FAV, THE FUCKING SQUIRRELS VIKING BURIAL GETs ME EVERYTIME, AND BATMAN OH MY