#anyways you could barely hear it in the one trailer i saw on tv (i wanted to go in blind) and i was like LIKE A PRAYER ???? BY MADONNA ??!??

[mychemicalbrromance]

#1 like a prayer fan none of you understand (insane)

[abarbaricyalp]

Samta, Baby

@sambuckylibrary written for the SamBucky Festive Season Bingo!

Rated E // 4.2k words // A03

Bucky really didn’t like public functions. Parties, interviews, fundraisers. Basically any time cameras were going to be trained on him, he wanted nothing to do with anything. This though? He could get used to this. The cameras were on Sam and Bucky was in Sam’s warm, cozy staging trailer, eating all of the holiday themed treats and watching Sam on a huge TV while no one was any the wiser that Bucky himself was just a few steps away.

To be honest, Bucky didn’t see how Captain America translated to Santa. He’d love to pick someone’s PR brain about the rationale behind asking Sam to act as Santa for this little Winter Wonderland thing. If they were in Louisiana, sure. That was Sam’s home. It made sense for him to be the local Santa for a school event or something. But they were in DC and Bucky had recently learned that acting like Santa was a real profession for some people, so there were plenty of other people around who could do this.

As it was, they barely leaned into the whole Cap thing anyway. They’d been designing coats and shirts for ages, trying to incorporate Sam’s uniform somehow, but in the end they’d just had him carry the shield with him. The rest of the Winter Wonderland wasn’t hero-themed either.

But, whatever. Bucky had enough shortbread and peppermint to get sick on, so he wasn’t complaining. Besides, the little show was kind of cute. He and Sam had been able to walk around a bit before Santa had to report for duty. They’d gotten pretty good hot chocolate and built a pathetically small snowman and even ice skated until Sam ate it and took Bucky down with him. There was a party later in the evening that Sam had been excited about. All in all, it had been a good day, capped off by an hours-long dessert break.

The heater in the trailer was better than the one in their house that they still hadn’t fixed (“This one’s heating twelve square feet, give the house heater a break,” Sam had said earlier) and Bucky was wrapped in all the blankets he’d found. He was warm and cruising on a sugar high. And a Sam high. Whatever camera they were using to film the event was amazing. Bucky could practically see the twinkling in Sam’s eyes, could count his laugh lines every time he threw his head back with a hearty ho-ho-ho and conspiratorial wink at whichever kid was beside him at the time.

Alright, so maybe it made sense why they’d want Sam.

Point was, he wasn’t really surprised that he’d fallen asleep on the large couch in front of the TV and had only stirred awake when Sam rapped his knuckles on the door before unlocking it and coming in.

“Hey, doll,” he mumbled in greeting, trying to excavate himself from his blankets. “How’d it go?”

Sam’s eyes pointedly flickered to the TV, which was broadcasting an Ugly Sweater competition now. “I think you saw how it went.”

Sam somehow made the Santa outfit ridiculously sexy. He’d left the coat open, revealing suspenders over a tight tanktop and his pants were unfairly tailored to sculpt his legs and show off his fancy boots. Even the silly hat, sitting askew on his head, was hot. It just wasn’t decent.

“Yeah, but I wanna hear it from you,” Bucky said. He finally managed to kick the blankets away and stood up so he could lean against Sam’s side as Sam sorted through the tray of cookies. His hands wandered under Sam’s coat and pulled his tanktop out from his waistband.

Sam took his time selecting one–something to do with mint chips or chocolate chips with mint cookie–and then ate it thoughtfully, washed it down with a few swigs of water. Then he turned to Bucky and backed him up against the nearest wall. Bucky stumbled back with him, his confusion melting away to delight when he took in how blown-dark Sam’s eyes were. “I don’t wanna talk about it,” Sam finally said as his hands went to Bucky’s chest, landing lightly on the top swell of his pecs. Bucky’s heart kicked up under his touch.

“Yeah, doll?” Bucky asked breathlessly. “What do you wanna talk about?”

“Wanna talk about how obscenely tight your jeans are,” Sam answered.

“You always wanna talk about that,” Bucky pointed out. To his embarrassment–though he should really expect this by now–his legs fell apart just at the insinuation in Sam’s voice.

Sam stepped between his legs, because that’s exactly where he belonged. “Wanna talk about how I’ve been dying to see what’s making those lines beneath them.”

“Just a little gift for Santa,” Bucky said innocently.

Continue on AO3

[heytherejulietx]

ill - sweet pea

↳ a/n - this fic is actually a surprise for @bucky-j-barnes - i know you’ve not been feeling well love and i hope you get better soon. i hope you like this and ily <3

↳ content warnings - mentions of being ill. this is mostly just a fluff though

↳ 1.2k word count

↳ masterlists

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her eyes were practically screaming at her to shut. as she curled up onto the small though surprisingly comfortable sofa of sweet pea’s trailer, she wanted nothing more than her boyfriend to walk through the door so they could go and curl up in bed together. sweet pea’s instructions had been very clear; make sure to eat and don’t wait up for him. she had done one out of the two, which counted for something. not that he’d see it like that, though. y/n leaned further back into the couch as she coughed, causing pain to flare across her chest until she was finished. she had been ill for a few days and sweet pea had all but forbidden her from going to the serpent meeting that afternoon, and instead left her so she could rest.

the tv was on in the background though she could barely pay attention to it. she could just about keep her eyes open, let alone focus on something. her head had started to hurt around an hour ago, and as much as she needed the painkillers that she knew were in the bathroom, she couldn’t physically pull herself up off of the couch to go and get them. as soon as sweet pea got in she could as him to get them for her, and she’d be able to relax. but she didn’t like sleeping without him, which was why she had been waiting up in the first place.

her eyes were drooping again, though she could hear the front door open with a loud creak, which prompted her to look up with a smile as sweet pea stepped into the trailer. even though they had been dating for a long while, she could never get over the sight of him. he always managed to look flawless, even when he wasn’t feeling well he looked flawless. he assured her the same was for her, but sweet pea was too nice for his own good with her. it was nice having such a loving boyfriend, though. of all people, she didn’t expect him to be so loving.

he had turned around to look at her when she coughed again and she saw the concerned frown make its way across his lips. he should have known she would have waited up for him anyways. he always told her not to and yet she always did it anyways.

“i thought i told you not to wait up for me.” sweet pea complained as he walked over to her once he had shrugged off his jacket, and sat down on the couch beside her. he looked concerned as she watched him give her a once over, and she realised she probably looked as bad as she felt.

“you did, i just ignored you.” she responded with a small smile and he rolled his eyes, though still shifted closer to her so he could pull her into a hug.

his embrace was warm and comfortable and immediately she leaned completely into him. her arms wrapped around him as he pulled her closer, and when she had tucked her head against his neck all she could smell was his cologne. she could have fallen asleep right then.

“you okay?” sweet pea pressed a kiss to her temple and her eyes did shut that time, breathing in his smell before she sighed softly.

“mm, just glad you’re home,” she whispered. her head still hurt and she still felt like shit, but with him there it was already ten times easier to deal with. “i miss you when you’re gone.”

she could feel him nod, and without letting him go he shifted so she was completely tucked against his side. “i miss you, too, baby. i’d have stayed home today if i could.”

she shook her head a little, and let her palm rub over his side for a moment. “it’s fine, you didn’t need to stay home for me, anyways. i was okay.”

sweet pea huffed and gently poked her side. “clearly i did, you should be in bed right about now, miss.”

“but i wanted to see you.” she complained, and smiled softly when he had pressed another kiss to the top of her head.

“okay, come on,” he sat up and ignored her pout as he stood, before he gently helped her to her feet too. she wobbled a little, slightly lightheaded, though he helped steady her with an arm around his waist as he walked her the short distance across the trailer to his bedroom. “do you need anything before you go to sleep, gorgeous?”

“painkillers.” she mumbled, and sweet pea nodded with a gentle squeeze to her side. he helped her sit on the edge of the bed before he left the bedroom for a moment, and returned with the bottle of painkillers and a glass of water. sometimes it surprised her how organised his trailer was, considering how unorganised he was. but she supposed he made up for that by making a mess in fangs’ trailer instead.

he wordlessly helped her take the medicine before she all but collapsed against the pillows of his bed with a sigh, exhausted. maybe staying up for him wasn’t the best idea, but she wouldn’t have gone to sleep happy without him there.

“did you have a good day?” she asked softly as she tucked herself underneath the covers whilst he got changed for bed. she could listen to him talk about literally anything for hours. his voice was pretty relaxing to listen to. well he wasn’t yelling, anyways.

“yeah, it was alright,” sweet pea nodded as he pulled a pyjama shirt over his head. “would have been ten times better if i got to spend it with you though, beautiful.”

y/n smiled softly as he leaned down to kiss her forehead, though scrunched her nose up and leaned away when he went to kiss her properly.

“what?” sweet pea huffed and she pouted.

“i don’t want to get you sick, baby.”

he scoffed and shook his head. “i don’t care,” he mumbled and leaned down to kiss her again. she giggled against his mouth as he slipped a hand behind her neck to keep her closely pressed to him, his free one beside her head holding himself up. when he pulled away a moment later he smiled, gently lowering her head back to the pillow. “see? not sick.”

“you wouldn’t know that yet.” y/n rolled her eyes and gently nudged his arm as he got into the bed beside her, and heard him chuckle when his arm looped around her waist.

she let out a sigh as she leaned her head against his chest and relaxed into him. his arms were wrapped tightly around her, and after a moment he started gently dragging his fingers across the sliver of skin that showed between her shirt and trousers from how she was positioned.

“i don’t have anywhere to be tomorrow, okay? so we can just work on making you feel better for monday.” sweet pea spoke softly into her hair and she nodded. she could feel his warmth as she snuggled closer into him, and she was already half asleep again.

“okay,” she whispered, and held onto him a little tighter as she yawned. “love you, pea.”

she heard him hum as he kissed her head again, and was barely awake when she heard him mumble a soft, “i love you, too.”

[elliesguitarstrings]

Just Friends

Masterlist

Pairing: Tom Holland x Actress!Reader

Summary: You and Tom haven’t seen each other since filming Uncharted, and you decide to surprise him at his Jimmy Kimmel interview. Although you’ve always been “just friends,” you can’t help but think there’s something more.

A/N: Hey y’all sorry it’s been a few days since I last posted, I’ve just been super stressed with school and stuff, but I actually really like this fic and I hope you guys like it too!

Warnings: Language, fluff, angst if you squint

WC: 2.4k

~~~~~~~~

It’s been months since you and Tom last saw each other in person.

While filming Uncharted, the two of you had become extremely close, hanging out in each other’s trailers and spending all of your free time together. In such a short period, you had become best friends, but neither of you could deny the spark of something more. Unfortunately, the two of you never got to explore that spark because of the short time limit. After wrapping, you and Tom went your separate ways, him to Atlanta to film Spiderman 3, and you back to your hometown for a well-deserved break.

That doesn’t mean you two haven’t stayed in contact though. You and Tom have texted and facetimed almost every day since you parted ways, or as much as his busy filming schedule allows. Throughout this time, however, you never seemed to discuss the obvious love connection between you two. Without actually speaking about it, you both seemed to agree that that conversation would be better to have in person.

This bring us to today, where Tom is backstage at Jimmy Kimmel, anxiously waiting for his interview segment of the show. He picks up his phone and decides to text you before he goes on to settle his nerves, wishing you were here to comfort him in person.

T: Are you watching the show yet?

Y: yep I already have my tv turned to abc! are you going on soon?

T: Yeah, I’m so nervous though

Y: why? you’ve been on the show before and you’re like amazing at interviews

T: Idk, Jimmy just said “be ready for a surprise” and he looked really suspicious so I’m scared

T: I just hope they don’t bring like Jennifer Aniston out or something because I would totally freeze and make a fool out of myself

Y: lmao that would be kinda funny tho, but I’m sure you have nothing to worry about

T: Okay we’ll see haha

T: Gtg I’m on in 10, I’ll facetime you after I’m done!

Y: kk, good luck tommy :)

T: Ahh thank you!!

What Tom doesn’t know is that you are ten times more nervous than him. While he’s under the impression that you’re sitting on your living room couch watching the show, you are actually in the dressing room down the hall from him.

Last month, when Tom told you he was going to be on Jimmy Kimmel to promote Cherry, you had the idea to surprise him. You emailed Jimmy not expecting a response, but to your surprise, he actually emailed you back and loved your idea.

So, here you are, waiting backstage and shaking with anticipation to surprise Tom. To be completely honest, you’re even more nervous now that you know Tom is expecting some big star like Jennifer Aniston, who you know has always been his biggest celebrity crush. But nonetheless, you shake off the nerves as best as you can, just hoping everything goes well.

“Please welcome our first guest… Tom Holland everyone!” you hear Jimmy’s voice over the speaker in your dressing room.

Now that Tom is on stage, you can safely leave the room without him seeing you, and you head to the side stage, waiting for your cue.

Tom and Jimmy talk about Cherry for a few minutes, and you can’t help but admire him. His voice, his face, his outfit, everything about him is just perfect. And even better, he’s here in person, closer than he’s been to you in a long time. It takes every ounce of self-control in you to stop yourself from running onstage and hugging him now. ‘Only a minute longer,’ you tell yourself.

“So, other than Cherry, what other upcoming projects are you working on?” Jimmy inquires onstage.

Almost there…

“Well, as most of you know,” Tom addresses the audience, “I’m filming Spiderman 3 right now, which has been going brilliantly. It’s definitely going to be the best one of all the Spiderman movies I’ve done. And I just wrapped on a film called Uncharted a few months ago in Berlin, which was so much fun.”

“Ooh, Uncharted, tell us more about that!"

“Yeah, well it’s based on the video game, and I play the main character, Nathan Drake, who’s on a quest throughout the film. It’s a lot like Spiderman in a way, with all the stunts and stuff, and I think it’s going to turn out great, I can’t wait to see it finished.”

“That sounds like a lot of fun! And if I’m not mistaken, you seem to have met a certain Y/N Y/L/N while filming?”

“Oh, Y/N, yeah, she’s great,” he starts to gush, and you immediately smile, “we became friends super fast, and I miss her so much. I wish she could be here right now, but she’s watching from home actually, so hey Y/N!” he looks directly at the camera and waves, as if he’s waving to you through the screen.

That’s your cue. You tiptoe onstage behind Tom, trying your best to shush the immediate gasps from the audience.

“Well Tom,” Jimmy smiles, “I think your wish may have come true.”

“Huh?” Tom looks around, confused, until his eyes land on you, and he completely freezes.

“Hey Tom,” you smile.

“Y/N! Holy shit! You’re here, you’re actually here!” he exclaims, not caring that he just cursed on live TV.

Tom immediately springs off the couch and sprints to you, arms outstretched. As soon as he reaches you, he picks you up in a tight hug and spins you around, both of you laughing. He sets you down, but still keeps you in a tight embrace, not pulling away until neither of you can breathe. He steps backwards to take you in, still trying to fathom that you’re actually here, with him, after all this time.

“Y/N, wha-, how? I thought you were at your house!” Tom can barely form a sentence, smiling wider than ever and completely out of breath.

“Eh, my house was boring. I thought it would be more fun here with you,” you smile.

He pulls you in again, whispering, “I missed you so fucking much.”

“You have no idea,” you whisper back, resting your forehead on his.

The two of you lock eyes, and for a moment, it’s like you are the only two people in the world. You both start to lean in, lips almost touching, when Jimmy interjects.

“Alright, you two, while that was very sweet, we do still have the rest of the show to get through, so why don’t you come sit down,” Jimmy laughs, bringing you and Tom back to reality.

“Right, of course,” Tom responds, trying his best to keep cool in front of the audience.

Tom ushers you to the couch, keeping one hand on the small of your back as he follows you. He keeps his arm around you when you sit, staying as close to you as possible without raising any more suspicions from the audience.

“So, you two, huh?” Jimmy smirks.

“What? Oh, no, Jimmy, we- we’re just friends,” you laugh trying your best to hide the obvious blush on your cheeks.

“I don’t know, that seemed like a little more than just friend behavior to me over there,”

“What do you expect, I haven’t seen her in half a year!” Tom exclaims, saving you from more embarrassment.

“Okay, okay, fine. Just friends,” he turns to the camera and winks, earning laughs from the audience.

“Anyways Y/N, we already talked about Tom, so tell us about you! How was your experience filming Uncharted?” thankfully, Jimmy moves on.

“Well, up until this point I had only really done small indie films, so it was definitely a major change. But Tom was so nice in helping me and it actually turned out to be such an amazing experience, probably the most fun I’ve ever had filming a movie…”

You go on for a few more minutes, talking to Jimmy about your role in Uncharted and your career in general, exchanging small glances with Tom, who just sat back and listened, completely entranced by you.

“Alright, well thank you so much for coming Y/N, it was great to have you! I’m afraid I have to keep Tom for a few more minutes for our next segment, but you’ll have him all to yourself soon enough,” Jimmy smiles.

You laugh, “Thank you so much for having me Jimmy, it was such a pleasure!”

You stand up and hug both Jimmy and Tom, giving Tom a small peck on the cheek before you walk offstage, waving to the audience as you leave.

You smile all the way back to your dressing room, completely overjoyed that you were successful in surprising Tom. As soon as you sat down on the small couch, not even two minutes after you walked offstage, your phone starts blowing up with notifications.

You see that your best friend texted you, so you check that first.

BFF: so you and tom huh? girl why didn’t you tell me?????

Y: what no???

Y: we’re just friends!!

BFF: that’s not what literally all of twitter thinks

Y: wdym? they don’t know anything

BFF: go check rn, i’m telling you they’re going batshit crazy over you two

You check Twitter and immediately see the fans already going crazy over you and Tom.

“just friends”????? bullshit did y’all see the way they almost KISSED?????

TOM AND Y/N I SHIP I SHIP I SHIP

did y’all see the way tom looked at y/n? he’s totally in love omg

UGH I’M SO JEALOUS AKSDHJSAHDSHD I WANT TO BE Y/N SO BAD

they’re so cute help omg

THE WAY Y/N FLEW OUT TO CALIFORNIA JUST TO SURPRISE TOM??? JUST FRIENDS MY ASS

Were you really being that obvious? You quickly call your friend, looking for some advice on what to do, and she picks up right away.

“Okay you were right, they’re going absolutely insane,” you start.

“I mean what do you expect y’all almost kissed on live tv!”

“Shut up.”

“Come onnnnn Y/N, I know you like him and he obviously likes you too so just talk to him! You already know that you two would be the cutest fucking couple ever. Plus you already have the approval of twitter what more could you need?”

You laugh, but you’re still hesitant.

“I don’t know, what if he doesn’t like me back?

“HE. ALMOST. KISSED. YOU. ON. LIVE. FUCKING. TELEVISON. I THINK HE LIKES YOU BACK BITCH!”

“Okay first of all we didn’t almost kiss, and second of all I don’t want to ruin our friendship. Plus how would I even tell him?”

“Okay YES YOU DID ALMOST KISS! And this isn’t middle school! Just tell him how you feel.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Think about what?”

You whip around and see Tom standing at your dressing room door.

“Fuck I gotta call you back,” you whisper, quickly hanging up the phone.

You turn back to Tom, still standing in the doorway.

“How much of that did you hear?” you ask, blushing profusely.

“Um, all of it I think,” Tom looks down and you immediately start to freak out.

Tom, however, looks back up at you and smirks.

“So you like me huh?”

You stay silent for a moment, a billion thoughts running through your head. You contemplate denying it and staying just friends with Tom. But then you think back to what your best friend told you just a second ago.

“Just tell him how you feel.”

“Yeah Tom. I like you. And not as a friend. This isn’t really the way I intended on telling you, and I get if you don’t feel the same way, but the way I feel about you isn’t just platonic. There’s a connection between us that I felt since the day we met and I can’t help but think that you feel it too. And then today it just got, like, ten times stronger and I-“

Tom promptly cuts you off by cupping your jaw and placing his lips on yours, sending a rush throughout your entire body. His lips feel like heaven, moving ever so gently against yours, and again, it feels like you two are the only people on Earth. The kiss is warm and loving, and although it doesn’t last long, the moment has already been engraved in your mind for eternity.

He pulls back, looking into your eyes, making sure he hasn’t made a mistake, but you only stare back at him ten times more lovingly.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” he whispers.

“Me too,” you whisper back.

He takes your hands in his, “Y/N, I do feel that connection, and I want us to be more than just friends. I always have.”

As much as you are relieved that Tom feels the same way, you can’t help but worry.

“What about the distance? Are you sure we can handle that?”

“Of course we can,” Tom assures you, “I don’t care how far away we are from each other, I love you, and I’m never letting any amount of distance take that away.”

“But these past few months have been so hard without you, and we haven’t even been dating, I just- I don’t want to be apart from you anymore.”

“Then move in with me. Come to London and live with me!”

“Okay,” you grin.

“Wait, really?” Tom questions, taken aback.

“Yeah, why not? I mean, obviously we won’t be able to be together all the time because of our jobs, but it’ll be the closest thing.”

“Are you sure? That’s a big commitment to move that far.”

“I’m positive Tom. You’re my best friend, and now, I guess you’re my boyfriend,” you giggle, “I love you too, and I want to be with you, even if that means moving thousands of miles to London.”

Tom smiles, “You called me your boyfriend.”

“Shut up you dork, come here.”

You pull him in for another kiss, still feeling like you’re floating. Your lips once again move perfectly together, as if they’re made for each other. You’re completely consumed in him, and him in you, and in this moment, you know that he is the only one for you. In this moment, you know that you want to spend the rest of your life with him, and only him, and it’s the best feeling in the world.

~~~~~~~~

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[writemekpop]

Lipstick On Your Collar (Part 1) | Nakamoto Yuta

Pairing: Nakamoto Yuta x Reader

Summary: Till death do us part... But what happens when he cheats?  

Genre: Husband!Yuta, Angst

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Infidelity, Sexual Content, Body Image

Gif: @yuthereal​

Part 1 ⭐| Part 2  | Part 3 | Part 4

“Ten more minutes, then it’s homework time, alright?” you called to your two older sons, eight and four years old. Caught up in their wooden sword fight, they didn’t even look up.

You smoothed your hand over your face, eyes bruised from lack of sleep. Between your banking job and your three kids, sleep was a rare thing.

Just then, you felt a waft of chill air. Yuta strode in through the front door, his feathery black hair in disarray.

“Hey babe,” you called, shoulders relaxing.

Your husband had this calming presence, your island on a rough ocean. Your chest ached for Yuta’s warmth. You hadn’t hugged, kissed… touched in months.

“Hi, Y/n. We need to talk,” Yuta deadpanned.

You picked up your baby daughter Ayumi. She needed her nappy changed. Bad.

“Alright. What’s up?” You placed her on the changing mat, blowing your fringe out of your eyes.

“I mean in private.” You saw that Yuta’s face was stretched and white. A knot curled in your stomach.

“Nappies?” You lifted your hand. He begrudgingly handed them over.

“Y/n. This is serious.” Yuta’s voice quivered like a taut string.

“Can’t you see I’m busy? What is it?” you snapped. You instantly regretted it. Nowadays, you were always on the edge of an explosion.

“Okay. Fine. I’ve… messed up. And I’m sorry, and I didn’t mean it, but… it’s happened.”

You bin Ayumi’s old nappy, then pull her into your arms. “Is that all? Look, if you’ve broken something, we have insurance.”

“This isn’t a bloody plate! I’ve- I’ve done something awful.”

“Right. Well done. Anyway, I have to help the kids with their homework.”

“Just look at me, Y/n! I’m trying to fucking tell you something!” Yuta’s yell turned your head.

Yuta’s eyes were red-rimmed and wide, like he was in shock. “I… cheated on you, Y/n. I slept with someone else.”

Your heartbeat slowed to a crawl. Instinctively, you pulled your baby close.

“Who is she?”

“Diya. From the school.”

Your lips went numb. You put Ayumi down in her rocker and started rinsing plates in the sink. “How long?”

“Just once. It was a mistake, I swear… it’s just, she was there, and… I didn’t plan it!”

Your chest folded in on itself. While you were kissing your babies to sleep, Yuta was kissing someone else.

“When was it, Yuta?”

“The… day you… went to stay with your sister.”

You’d never forget that day.

It was a few weeks after Ayumi was born. You couldn’t seem to get out of bed, let alone be a good mother. So you’d escaped… just for a day.

While you were breaking apart, Yuta searched out another woman.

“Where?” You picked up the cutlery, letting the hot water scald your skin.

“Her apartment. We met up after work, and one thing led to another… I swear, that was all.”

Images burned into your mind, like a flashed camera. Yuta’s fingernails scraping the back of her neck, like he did to you. Their naked bodies gyrating, sweaty, the smell of sex saturating everything…

Your throat convulsed in a retch. For a second, it was like a brick was hitting your chest.

Then, everything stopped.

You felt a curtain dropping. You didn’t have time to deal with this. Not now. As quickly as they came, the feelings slowed. Drooped. Vanished.

You looked down. You were clenching a table knife so hard it had drawn blood. You let go.

Everything blurred. You felt like a kid again, staring up at yourself from the bottom of a pool.

Your voice was a croak. “Obviously, we’re not telling the kids. My parents are coming next week – so we can’t tell them either.”

You dried your hands and looked up at Yuta. His mouth was hanging open, like a cartoon character’s. It was almost funny.

You continued speaking, bunging toys into a basket.

“If you want a divorce, tell me now, because we’ll have to borrow money. For tonight, I’ll take the bed, you have the couch.”

“What the hell, Y/n?”

You jolt and look up. “Fine! You can have the bed.”

Yuta grabbed your shoulders, knife-cheekboned and wild. “I don’t care about the fucking bed! I just told you I cheated on you. Why aren’t you mad?”

You stared at his hands on your skin, like you didn’t recognise them. Yuta spotted your gaze, and slowly let go.

“I’m really sorry, Y/n. I want to fix this. But you need to let me in.”

You looked into his chestnut eyes and frowned. Why was he being so obnoxious?

Slowly, you spelled it out. “You cheated on me. It was with our kids’ tutor, while I was sick. You’re sorry. You won’t do it again. Now can I go and make dinner?”

Yuta blinked. Slowly. Then, he gulped and gave you a slight nod. “Yep.”

You pushed past him, and called out, “Whoever helps mummy with dinner gets ice cream!”

You ushered your eager kids towards the hob. You didn’t look back, but you felt Yuta’s gaze on the back of your head. Stunned.

------

You plastered on your brightest smile all throughout dinner, whilst laying out bedding on the couch for yourself, even whilst tucking your children into bed.

Now, you were sitting in your children’s room, with the lights out. You’d just finished reading their bedtime story. They were fast asleep.

Finally, you let the iron screen lift from your heart. Instead of fighting it, you bared the most vulnerable part of yourself.

It was a memory: you were in Paris with Yuta on the first night of your honeymoon. You were in a mid-range Travel Lodge – the best you could afford – with rain pelting at the windows.

You had woken up at 11AM, tangled up with Yuta from your cuddling. You’d talked, worried, agonised about it, but you’d never had sex with him before.

Yuta opened one sleepy eye and felt your body with his hands, as if he was checking if it was there. You tingled with lust to the tips of your toes. Suddenly, you knew the moment was right.

For once, you didn’t care about your tummy that you always tried to hide, you didn’t care about your thighs which rubbed together when you walked.

You didn’t think about anything, except the feeling of Yuta’s slow kisses, the feeling of him inside of you, the feeling of his hands reaching to the very ends of you.

You were in a hazy, golden pool of completeness. As you gasped your worries, apologies, in each other’s ears, you became whole in a way you’d never known before.

Then, the memory shattered. And in its place, before you could stop it, was the image that was burnt into your eyelids.

It played over and over again, the trailer to a movie of your shame. Yuta in her apartment, the thumping of the bedposts, him between her legs, her exclamations of ‘yes!’, that were only echoed by him moaning her name…

You screamed silently into your fist.

You knew the real reason Yuta cheated on you. Whatever excuses he made, it wasn’t a mistake or a drunk one-off.

You grabbed the soft flesh around your waist. This was why. You thought of the nights you’d told him you were too tired, that you weren’t in the mood. That was why.

You couldn’t even blame Yuta. He was only compensating for the fact that his own wife would never be attractive enough, good enough, just enough for him.

The tears rose up your throat, making your head pound and your cheeks stretch with sobs. You wanted nothing more than to drown yourself in these tears, though you knew they wouldn’t wash the pain away.

Then, you caught a grey glimmer in the darkness. Your youngest boy, Nico, was wide awake and watching you with saucer eyes.

“Hey baby… go back to sleep,” you whispered, quickly smoothing away your tears.

“Are you crying, mummy?”

The softness in his gaze was like a punch in the stomach. You choked down another wave of tears. “No, sweetie, I’m fine. Go back to sleep okay?”

Obediently, he closed his eyes. You didn’t deserve such beautiful children.

You were doubled over, silent in the darkness. You pressed your palms into your eyes, so hard they hurt, and forced the tears back.

You couldn’t even make your husband love you.

What hope did you have with your kids?

------

Three days had passed since that terrible night.

It was 10PM, and the house was unusually quiet.

You and Yuta were sitting at the far edges of the couch, the Netflix episode you never missed playing on the TV.

Both of you were pretending like nothing had gone wrong.

“So… how was work?” Yuta’s cautious voice broke the silence.

You sighed and shook your head. “Just get me a drink.” You couldn’t be bothered with this charade. But at least you could drown your feelings.

“Are you sure that’s a good-” Yuta began.

“Just get it.”

He returned with a whisky, with two ice cubes. Your heart twisted. “You remembered?”

“How could I forget my wife’s favourite drink?” Yuta gave you a thin smile, and for a second, you forgot to ice him out. You smiled back.  

That was two whiskies ago. Now, the gap between the two of you on the sofa had shrunk.

You were laughing so hard your eyes were teary.

“Do you remember, Y/n? Your shirt was on backwards, my pants were on the other side of the room, we were moaning so loud half the theme park could hear us!”

You dried your eyes, sighing. “I bet we scarred a few kids for life that day…”

Yuta’s lip curled up in a smile that sent your heart racing.

You looked down. Subconsciously, your hand was massaging Yuta’s denim-clad knee. You retracted it.

“God, we really knew how to have fun, didn’t we?” You could barely remember the time before you had your three children. It was rose-coloured.

“I mean, Disneyland was nothing. Remember Taeyong’s attic? The nightclub bathroom? I could go on…”

“Ahh!” You mimed blocking your ears. “There are kids in the house, you know!”

In doing so, you lost your grip on your whisky glass, which was balanced on your knee. Yuta grabbed it before it fell, and his hand was suddenly on your thigh.

He let go, and you cleared your throat.

That was hours back. Now, you were having difficulty sitting straight. You’d lost count of how many whiskies you’d downed.

You grabbed Yuta by the shoulders and shook him. “Look! Let’s just get it out of the way. ASAP, straight, completo. No regrets.”

For the first time in ages, your blood was running warm with more than alcohol. The worn denim of Yuta’s jeans was pulling your gaze southward.

“Get what out of the way? You’re not making sense, Y/n.”

You pulled the pin out of your hair and let it fall over your shoulders. “The big three-letter.”

Yuta looked at you, still bewildered. “What?”

“SEX.”

The glass fell from Yuta’s hand.

To be continued…

Part 1 ⭐| Part 2  | Part 3 | Part 4

[literallythebiggestfuckingsimp]

Our Little Secret

description: you and rudy have been sneaking around for a while now, what happens when you get caught in front of thousands of fans?😳😳

warnings: making out?? ooo and swearing oops (as a british person i can’t just NOT swear)

            Rudy’s lips smashed against yours, moving hungrily as his arms snaked around your waist. You gasped, arms moving to hook around his neck as he slipped his tongue in your mouth. You had to be on set in five, and you were just passing the time with your good friend Rudy in his trailer.

Between the two of you, neither of you were quite sure what you were. So far, all you guys had done was purely physical. Of course, there had been lingering touches, longing stares, stolen smiles. But you hadn’t talked about it. 

It had started with flirty jokes, and then, boom! It just kinda happened, if you were being honest.

Not breaking the kiss, the two of you stumbled backwards until you bumped into the table. You jumped up and he took his pace between your legs, detaching his lips from yours and turning his attention to the skin on your neck. You moaned, heading rolling back to give him more access.

“Hey, Rudy? You in there?” Your eyes widen at the voice outside the trailer door, freezing both yours and Rudy’s movements.

“Uh, yeah?” Rudy says, clearing his throat.

“Why’s the door locked, toot?” You could practically see the suggestive smirk on Chase’s face.

“Cause I’m about to take a shit and I didn’t want anyone to come in here and smell that,” Rudy replies, looking at you with a grin on his face. You rest your head in the crook of his neck, pressing your face up to it to suppress your laughter.

Chase laughs. “Alright, then, but have you seen Y/N? I’ve been looking for her everywhere.”

“Nah, sorry bro,” Rudy calls out when you shake your head at him. “I’ve gotta take this shit or I’ll explode. See you in a sec.”

“It’s good, bro,” Chase replies. “She’s gotta be on set now, though. I’ll find her, don’t worry about it. Probably went off to craft services or something.”

You glare at the door where Chase is stood on the other end, but your eyes widen wen you realise you’re gonna be late to set.

“Cya, man,” Rudy says, helping you down from the counter as you pat down your hair. Chase mumbles a “bye”.

You two wait until it’s clear, giving Rudy a quick peck as you subtlety sneak out the trailer door once you’re sure Chase is gone.

As you walk - more like jog - away, you look back. Through the window you salute to Rudy, and he salutes back with a maniacal grin on his perfect face.

♡

You’ve just finished shooting for the day, and straight away, you headed over to see Rudy. He’d slid you a note earlier in the day to meet him at his trailer once you were done.

Arriving, you were immediately pulled into a kiss by by the blond headed bimbo who’d stolen your heart. You smiled against his lips, happily thinking about the fact that you could finally call him yours.

Around two weeks ago now you two had finally sorted through your shit and admitted your feelings for each other. However, you’d both decided it would be better if you kept your newfound relationship to yourselves. You didn’t want to make things awkward if it didn’t work out, and, besides, sneaking around was fun. “Think of it as our little secret,” you had said.

You pulled away from the kiss and he pouted. Laughing, you pecked him on the cheek and watched as a smile took over on his lips. Rudy’s arms situated themselves around your waist as he laid the two of you down on the makeshift sofa in his trailer.

Rudy was lying on your lap as you played with his hair, occasionally kissing him as some stupid ass movie played on the TV. It was a nice breather from all the crazy scenes you’d been filming and you couldn’t feel more relaxed.

Well, that was until there was a knock at the door. You wasted no time in rushing into the bathroom, hiding as Rudy went to answer the door.

“Yo, dude,” you hear JD greet and you mentally cuss him out.

“Uh, hey, JD, Maddie,” Rudy says. “What’s up?”

“Why’re you being so weird?” Maddie questions, confused as to why Rudy seemed hesitant about letting them in.

“Me?” Rudy asks, shaking his head. “Nah, I’m not being weird.”

“Whatever,” Madison huffs. You hear her and JD walk in and mutter profanities under your breath. Thank god you had picked up your phone from the sofa or you would be toast. “We wanted to watch a movie and you have the comfiest couch.”

“What’re we watchin?” Rudy asks, bouncing on his heels. Madison shares a look with JD, confused as to what the hell was up with him.

“I dunno,” JD shrugs. “I gotta take a tinker in your bathroom, though. I’ll be right back.” He says, and your eyes widen.

“No!” Rudy calls out, and you search frantically for an escape route. There’s a window, but it’s kinda small, you’re not sure if you’d fit. Fuck it, you think as you hear JD and Mads confront Rudy about being weird.

“I just mean ... it’s kinda rank in there,” Rudy says, scratching the back of his neck.

“Disgusting,” Madison mutters.

“I’ll just block out the smell,” JD shrugs. “I’m desperate, bro.”

Rudy silently prays to himself as you fumble about the bathroom, climbing on top of the seat. You put one leg through the window as the footsteps land right outside the door, and  try to slyly maneuver yourself out with your phone in one hand. Your plan fails miserable and you tumble to the ground, landing in a bush.

“Fuck,” you mutter, sitting up and pulling leaves out your hair.

The door to the bathroom swings open and you run as fast as you can back to your own trailer. You ignore the confused looks of the crew members, and Drew calling your name as he sees you run past with twigs in your hair.

As soon as you get back to your trailer, you shoot Rudy a quick text.

I jumped out the window ;)

Jesus, Y/N. You good?

Yeah, just thank god for my super rad spy skills.

Sure, baby. Sure.

♡

You giggle as Rudy pushes you down on your bed, peppering your skin with kisses, making you laugh more.

Filming had ended and you were currently quarantined with the cast, stuck in yours and Madelyn’s apartment. After the release of the show, you had gained quite a big fan base and your time had been occupied with online interviews and live streams. You’ve barely had the chance to sneak around with Rudy, not wanting to raise any suspicions since fans had already started shipping the two of you, pointing out the way he looks and interacts with you, and vice versa.

You didn’t want to let your friends catch on. Not yet.

Swiftly, you flip you and Rudy over, straddling him as you pull him in for a passionate kiss. You must not have heard the footsteps creeping up to your room, or the door swing open as you kissed your boyfriend.

A quick shriek alerted you of someone’s presence. You scrambled away from Rudy, cheeks red and eyes wide. It was Madelyn, stood frozen in the doorway, eyes wide. Clumsily, she dropped her phone, the object clattering to the floor

“Fuck,” Rudy mutters, pulling on his shirt as you put your hands over your face in attempt to hide you embarrassment.

Madelyn stands dead still, frozen to the spot. “Oh my god, guys, I am so so so sorry! I didn’t know you two were-”

By now, you had alerted the attention of Chase and Drew, who came running over at the sound of a scream. It didn’t take them long to connect the dots, between your rosy cheeks and swollen lips and Rudy’s messy hair and flustered appearance.

“Oh, shit,” Drew swore, eyes wide.

“Uh, guys ...” Madelyn spoke up, chuckling nervously. “I was on live and they saw ...” she motions between the two of you with her hands, “that.”

Honestly, you think you could’ve died, right then and there. You scramble to grab Maddie’s phone from the floor, seeing the comments screaming about what they had just accidentally witnessed and quickly end the live.

“I’m so sorry!” Maddie squeals, cheeks tinging red. “I was planning on scaring Y/N and I didn’t think Rudy would be in here, let alone that you two would be-”

You quickly cut her off, scratching the back of your neck and biting your lip. “It’s fine, Maddie. Seriously, don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah,” Rudy clears his throat. “You couldn't have known.”

“Uh, well,” Drew chuckles. “This is awkward.”

“Honestly, I’m gonna need a good few shots to erase the embarrassment of this moment from my memory,” you state, walking through the door and towards the kitchen where a bottle of vodka awaits you.

“I second that,” Rudy says, following you and lazily placing an arm around your waist.

Chase grins, watching the two off you. “So ... “ he trails off, gesturing between the two of you with his hand. “Are you two, yanno, together?” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

You nod and Rudy smiles. “Yeah, we have been for a while now.”

“God, it’s about time!” Chase exclaims.

“You guys were pretty bad at hiding it,” Drew states, a grin of his own on his lips.

You mock fake offence, gasping as you poor the vodka into your shot glass. “We’ve been dating for four months, so, obviously not.” 

Madelyn’s mouth hangs open. “Four months?!” she yells. “And you didn’t tell us?”

Rudy shrugs, kissing your cheek fondly. “Eh, it was pretty fun sneaking around.”

“Agreed,” you say, smiling up at him. He meets your gaze, pecking you on the lips.

“Ew, you guys,” Chase groans. “Just because you’re together now doesn’t mean you can be all openly affectionate.”

Madelyn whacks his arm, rolling her eyes. “Shut up, they’re cute.”

“Nah, they’re gross,” Drew jokes, laughing. “Anyway, I made Mama Starkey’s casserole. Who wants some?”

“Me!” you exclaim, grinning excitedly. If there was one thing you loved it was Mama Starkey’s chicken casserole. Also, eating and drinking would be a good way to get your mind off the fact that practically the entire world saw you on top of a shirtless Rudy, making out with him.

A/N: AHAHAH THE WAY I DIDNT KNOW HOW TO END THIS SHDJSHJDH also pls excuse the crappy writing this was made at 4am last night😳

[allthingsfangirl101]

Wish I Were Heather–Zac Efron

Inspired by the song, Heather by Conan Gray

Dating a famous actor is tough. Now, dating him in secret is just sheer torture. Everyone, literally everyone, has an opinion about who he should be with and who would look great on his arm. And I am not even close to them. They are all beautiful, famous, rich, dropped-dead gorgeous women. I'm just average.

The recent girl that fans want Zac to start dating is his costar, Heather Manning. She's a rising star who started off as a model. She had a few cameos in tv shows at first, but her career shot off from there.

Anything anyone can talk about is Zac Efron and Heather Manning. People are obsessed with the leaked set photos that have been released. They love how the two look together.

Zac's fans think I am just his friend who is always around. They actually hate me. They think it's annoying that I follow him around, not doing anything. When asked, he tells people that I am his lifelong best friend who moved to LA with him.

They don't know that we've actually been dating since before his career. It all started junior year of high school. I had been studying so much for my AP test, ACT, and SAT that I got sick and ended up fainting in the middle of class.

Zac rode with me to the hospital and sat next to me every day I was there. When I was released, he was at my house 24/7, constantly around me to make sure I was taking care of myself. About a week after it happened, I asked why he refused to leave my side. That's when he admitted his feelings for me and I confessed mine for him.

In the first few months of his career, we had a long-distance relationship. The second I graduated high school, I went to LA to live with him. We talked about it and agreed to keep our relationship a secret from all of Zac's fans.

It was actually Zac's idea. He hadn't wanted his fans to try and get in the way of us or try and influence us. He wanted our relationship to be just that; us. Even though I agreed to keep our relationship a secret, it was hard. Everywhere I turned, someone was hitting on Zac, asking him out, or trying to get him to ask them out.

I tried to act like it didn't bother me, but of course it did. After a while, it started to get to me. It's exhausting trying to act like it didn't bother me. Zac is a famous actor and I'm just me.

I got a degree online in marketing, but I don't do anything with it. All I do is sit at home and do random chores around the apartment while I wait for Zac to come home.

I still remember, Third of December, Me in your sweater. You said it looked better on me than it did you, Only if you knew, How much I liked you.

"Hey, babe." I looked away from my book to see Zac walking in the door.

"Hi," I said softly. I put my book down and pulled my legs under myself as he walked over and sat next to me.

"How was your day?" He asked, reaching over and putting his hand on my knee.

"It was fine," I said under my breath as I looked away.

"Hey," he said gently. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," I said, not even convincing myself. I sighed as I looked back up at him. "What?" I asked when I saw the way he was smirking at me.

"You're wearing my favorite sweater," he chuckled as he scooted closer to me and put my feet on his lap. I smiled as he rubbed my calves.

"I was cold," I shrugged. He laughed as he leaned over and pressed his lips to mine in a short, gentle kiss.

"Well," he said when he broke the kiss. "It looks better on you anyway."

                       * * * * *

But I watch your eyes as she walks by. What a sight for sore eyes, Brighter than a blue sky. She's got you mesmerized. While I die

"They just sent me the trailer for my new movie. Wanna watch it?" Zac asked as he laid his head down on my lap and propped up his phone. I sighed as he pressed play.

I tried to be supportive and watch it, but it was too painful. Instead of watching the trailer, my eyes never strayed from Zac. It was hard to watch the smile on his face.

"So," he laughed as he sat up when the trailer ended. "What did you think?"

"I love it," I smiled through the pain. "It's going to be an amazing movie."

Zac turned towards me and grabbed my hands, intertwining our fingers. "Babe, you know that this is just for show, right? I mean. . . It's just for the movie."

"I know," I laughed it off. "We already talked about it before you started filming. I know that every cute moment, every kiss is just for the movie. I trust you, Zac."

"Damn, I love you," he laughed as he leaned over and pressed his lips to mine.

Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half as pretty. You gave her your sweater. It's just polyester, but you like her better Wish I were Heather

I broke the kiss when the image of Heather kissing Zac was stuck in my head. I smiled as I leaned back and grabbed my book. He watched me for a second before turning his attention back to his phone.

I have been supportive of Zac and his career through every moment, but it's getting harder. Watching the love of my life on screen with a beautiful actress was torture. It just reminded me that I wasn't anywhere near to being part of his league.

                       * * * * *

Watch as she stands with Her holding your hand. Put your arm 'round her shoulder, Now I'm getting colder.

I smoothed out my dress, trying to wipe away the nerves. Zac walked into the front room and smiled. "Wow," he chuckled. "You look beautiful."

"Thanks," I blushed as I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. I smoothed out my dress again, looking down at my feet.

"Nervous?" He smirked as he walked over and grabbed my hands.

"Always," I chuckled. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my lips.

"It's going to be okay," he smirked when he broke the kiss. "Besides, I'm the one who should be nervous. I bring you along with me so you can keep me calm."

The whole drive to his premiere, my stomach was in knots. The idea of constantly being around my secret boyfriend and the girl I've been secretly comparing myself to made me sick.

We pulled into the theater and everything happened as if someone was fast-forwarding through the night. We walked the red carpet, but when we got to the paparazzi, he was taken away from me. They didn't want pictures of us. They wanted pictures of Zac and Heather.

I stood to the side, my arms wrapped around myself as I watched them take pictures. The more poses they went through and the closer they seemed to get together, the lower my stomach dropped. When it got too much, I turned on my heel and walked inside.

                       * * * * *

But how could I hate her? She's such an angel But then again, kinda wish she were dead. As she walks by, What a sight for sore eyes, Brighter than a blue sky. She's got you mesmerized, While I die.

The entire time we watched his movie, my heart was in my stomach. I found it incredibly hard to watch Zac on-screen fall in love with a girl ten times prettier than me.

I know how much my boyfriend loves me. I know he would never cheat on me or hurt me. I know I was being insecure, but I couldn't stop. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was the off-brand version of Heather Manning.

Zac's new movie, The Lucky One, is based on the book written by Nicholas Sparks. Zac plays Logan Thibault, a US Marine who finds a photograph of a young woman while serving in Iraq. He carries it around as a good luck charm, and later tracks down the woman, Heather's character, Beth.

Watching Heather act was almost bewitching. I say almost because it's as painful as is it bewitching. I fought the tears as long as I could, but the longer I watched the man I'm in love with fall in love with another woman, the harder it got.

The tears finally started streaming down my cheeks as the movie came to an end. As Zac's and Heather's characters lived "happily ever after", I couldn't take it anymore. I grabbed my bag and ignored Zac's questioning look as I ran out of the theatre.

                       * * * * *

Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half as pretty. You gave her your sweater. It's just polyester, but you like her better. I wish I were Heather

"Y/N?!" Zac called out as he ran out of the theater following me. "Stop. Please!"

I froze but didn't turn around. I wrapped my arms around myself as I waited for Zac to speak up.

"Babe," he said, his voice barely audible. "What's going on with you?"

"Nothing," I stuttered.

"Y/N, come on," he sighed. "You've been acting kind of weird the past couple of weeks. Months, really. Talk to me, Y/N. Please? What's going on?"

"I can't do this," I whispered, more to myself than to him.

"What?" Zac asked, the annoyance building in his voice. "Just talk to me, Y/N. What's going on?"

"I can't do this anymore, Zac!" I yelled as I turned around. He froze when he saw the tears streaming down my cheeks.

"Y/N," he said softly, my name getting caught in his throat. "What are you. . ."

"All I hear about every day is which beautiful actress your fans want you to be with, what girls are worth your time, and what kind of girl should make you happy. And guess what! I'm not even close to any of them."

"Y/N," he tried to interrupt, but I didn't let him.

"And the worst part is that I agreed to this!" I laughed sarcastically. "We talked about it and both agreed to keep us a secret. But I wasn't. . ."

"Y/N," he tried again.

"I didn't know how hard this would be, Zac," I said, not skipping a beat. "Because it's incredibly hard. Keeping us a secret is emotionally draining and exhausting. I love you, Zac but. . . I don't know how much longer I can do this."

"Y/N, please," he said desperately. "We don't have. . ."

I shook my head, the tears no longer streaming down my cheeks as I slowly walked away from him. "You should be with Heather or someone like her. . . Not me."

"Y/N, what are you talking about?" Zac asked, running his hands through his hair. "Just. . . Slow down, okay? Can we sit down and talk about this?"

"No," I said, taking another step back. "This has been going on too long, Zac. And you know it. I can't. . . I'm not good enough for you. You deserve a beautiful actress or a model. And I'm not like that. I'm average. I don't even have a job."

"So?" He scoffed. "I don't care about that! We've known each other all of our lives, Y/N. And you aren't average. You're my best friend, the love of my life. Besides, I don't want some girl who's looking for her next big career move. I want someone who really knows me. I want you."

"Zac, please just stop," I said, my voice getting caught in my throat. "Why would you ever want me?"

"Why wouldn't I want you?" Zac laughed awkwardly but stopped when he saw the look on my face. "Y/N, baby, please. . ."

I shook my head as I took a few steps back. Before he could say anything or do anything, I turned on my heel and left.

                       * * * * *

I was laying down on our couch, my knees up to my chest. There were dried tears on my cheeks as I numbly watched the tv. I wasn't sure what I was watching or what was happening, but I didn't care.

I sucked in a breath when I heard the lock click and the door open. I resisted the urge to look at Zac as he walked in.

"Hey," he whispered. "I'm kind of surprised you're still up."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him take off his suit jacket and drape it over the Lazyboy. I bit my lip as he sat on the couch by my feet. I heard Zac sigh before laying down and pulling me into his chest. He spooned me, wrapping his arm around my waist.

"Can we please talk?" He whispered. I shrugged, knowing my voice would fail me. Besides, I said everything I had to say back at the theater.

"I had no idea that this was so hard on you," he sighed. "If I had known. . . I'm so sorry, babe. I should've known that keeping us a secret would be hard on you. But I. . . Damn, I've been really selfish, haven't I? I've been a horrible boyfriend," he whispered, rubbing his hands up and down his face. "I've been selfish and. . . I haven't. . ."

I finally looked at him when he sat up, but he didn't look towards me. Instead, he stared straight ahead, probably overthinking all of this. And that made me feel guilty.

"I am so sorry, Y/N." He shifted more towards me and grabbed my hands. "Things are going to be different. I promise. I am going to announce that we are dating, living together, everything. I am going to set up an interview to only talk about you. I'm going to take some time off so we can spend more time together. I'm so sorry I've been horrible to you."

"Zac," I said gently, interrupting him.

He stopped talking and waited for me to continue. I smiled as I reached up and cupped his cheek in my hand. I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his. He deepened the kiss by wrapping his arms around me, pulling me closer to him.

He broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against mine. "I'm so sorry," he repeated. "So so sorry, babe. I should've. . . And I. . . I'm sorry."

"Hey," I said, leaning back so I could look at him. "I love you."

He smiled, looking as if he was relieved. "I love you too, Y/N. I'm so sorry."

"So you've said," I teased him. "Besides, I agreed to keep us a secret. I should've talked to you sooner instead of running out of your premiere. I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he said instantly. There was a brief moment of silence before Zac asked, "So. . . We're okay? I mean. . ."

I laughed as I cupped his cheek in my hand. "Of course we're okay. I love you, Zac. Always have, always will."

"I love you too," Zac whispered as he leaned in and pressed a short, gentle kiss to my lips. "Besides, why would I want Heather when I have you?"

Heather tried to kiss me. She's not even half as pretty. Yes, I gave her my sweater, But it's just polyester. And I like you better. I don't care for Heather.

[all-or-nothing-baby]

Would love to see you do U with Destiel

Mini-fic prompt-fill. The letter U is "Coming Home".

@avidbkwrm For you, Spencer... here you go, my friend <3

_____________________________

The Last Time

Tags: Dean POV, Modern AU, Drug and Alcohol Misuse, Prostitution, Hurt With Comfort, Angst With A Happy Ending.

_____________________________

Getting back to his shitty apartment afterwards was always the worst part.

It wasn't the peeling wallpaper that bothered Dean. He didn't care that there were only bare floorboards splashed with spilled paint in the bathroom. Couldn’t even give a shit that the wet rot, in the corner above the sofa, was probably the cause of his perpetual cough. And yeah, okay, so he knew the fuck-ton of weed he smoked, on top of the booze, didn’t exactly help. And no, it didn’t exactly make him forget, either. But it did help him to give less of a shit about how shitty he felt.

...until the next time.

Cas was a drug. Dean had known it from the start, had known he shouldn’t get involved. Known he’d end up losing people too, if he did. And he had. But fuck, after that first time? He was hooked. A junkie. Now, he was so far fucking gone it was scary because being with Cas was better than anything Dean had ever had. And whenever Dean wasn’t tangled up in sheets and smiles, all sticky, with him? He was in hell. Especially right afterwards… the instant craving was unbearable. Still tasting his sharp citrusy taste; smelling of bubble gum and baby wipes, just like him; running his rough fingertips over the pink and tender places he'd been claimed. Yeah, Cas was the drug Dean didn’t know how to quit. And Jesus, he didn’t want to, which was worse.

Yet still, at first, he'd swear every visit was the last.

…until the next time.

Dean had lived all over, growing up. Cheap hotels and motels, trailer parks. And worse. Never knew what it was to settle and lay roots. Cas told him he'd been raised the polar opposite: huge family, a single home his whole life. Until his folks had found out he liked dicks not chicks and tried to bible-bash it outta him, quite literally. Cas had left and never contacted them again. And it turned out, being where he was now was better than being on the streets.

Really don't know why I'm telling you all this, he'd said to Dean after only the second time. Maybe it's just those kind eyes? he'd smiled. But I'm sorry, you're not paying to hear about my screwed-up life in a sob-story… want me to fuck you now, baby?

Dean had never gone with a sex worker before. Hated the idea—not for him, exactly, but for them. The idea that some people thought they were worth so little that they'd sell themselves? It horrified him. But walking out that bar that night and seeing that dark, unruly hair and those blue, blue eyes heading straight for him, coming for him...

Hey, beautiful, wanna spend the night with an angel?

No such thing, Dean had tried. But it had come out as a question, a challenge. An almost prove me wrong, please—and with a smile he couldn't have helped if he'd tried.

The man—dressed in a long coat, black boots and tight jeans; the crispest of white shirts with a low slung tie; and an eight o'clock shadow Dean instantly craved to leave a tingle on his inside thighs—had smiled back and said, that's your problem, beautiful. You have no faith.

By the time Dean had left the No-Tell room later that night—left Jimmy, as he'd called himself back then—Dean was born again. His belief suddenly so strong, he'd gone back to his apartment and goddammit he'd prayed.

But for the days that followed, the guilt was overwhelming. Dean had hoped beyond hope he'd be strong enough to stay away from the stranger he now wanted to help; to take away from this dangerous life, this mess Jimmy had gotten himself into... No. Dean told himself he wouldn't go back. It was wrong, on so many levels. Shit, he didn't even know the guy from Adam and yet, what, he wanted to save him?

Dean actually did actually managed to keep his distance, for a time. For a little while, he thought sense had won out.

...until the next time.

After that, Dean became fucking devout. Being with Jimmy—with Cas—very quickly became more than a one-sided thing… it became about not just fucking, but enjoying each other. Them tasting and devouring each other. Holding out for one another. Worshipping each other. Had the tables now turned? Was Cas really the angel he'd said he was and Dean, the sinner who needed saving? For the two hours a week that Dean could barely afford, Dean was happy. They'd often spend time just talking, tracing patterns on the others skin. As contradictory and ironic as it was, being with Cas? It honest to God felt holy. Dean was a better man when with him. Wanted to do better because of him. Felt more himself than he ever had before. And soon, inevitably, every time he'd leave Cas, it was ten times harder than the last.

...until the next time.

The night Dean saw the bruises was the night he'd started thinking seriously about it.

Doesn't usually happen, Cas had promised. Like it was nothing. Dean called bullshit, his voice tinged with anger. But he was mostly completely fucking heartbroken. He felt helpless. Dean had kissed each purpling mark with gentle lips and stroked that untamable hair for over his allotted time slot. Paid the extra. Told Cas dumb jokes that Cas laughed at regardless. They watched some TV together on Dean's phone, tied up like a pretzel.

Turned out Cas had... refused to fulfill some specific act and the disgruntled john had complained to Cas' twisted pimp, Naomi, who'd then set her muscle on him. They were supposed to just scare me a little—well, a lot, Cas had smiled sadly. Maybe swirlie me or choke me out, you know? They weren't supposed to beat him. To mark him. He'd admitted, the clients don't like that—well, most of them, anyways. Some were sicker fucks than others. After ten months, Dean knew that by now.

Soon after, Dean had started working longer shifts at the restaurant, always asking for overtime. It meant they sometimes couldn't meet, or maybe only had an hour together instead of two, what with Cas' workload being not exactly flexible. It was tough. And maybe not just on Dean? Cas almost seemed disappointed whenever Dean told him he wouldn't be seeing him as usual. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on Dean's part. He'd thought they'd had a connection but... Dean didn't have the words to ask. So he'd just hoped Cas understood. He seemed to, mostly. But sometimes, he'd get that look in those baby-blues. The one that said, you've lost faith in me Dean. And, at one point, Dean worried this just couldn't work. That maybe he'd lost what little faith he had in himself. That Cas probably had no faith in Dean to begin with.

...until the next time.

Dean wasn't sure if it had been a slip. An accidental admission. He'd been so close, so many times, to uttering the words himself. But he'd never imagined Cas letting his guard down in that way. And honestly? Dean had stopped allowing himself to think about the possibility of it being a reality at all.

I love you Dean, Cas had whispered in a breath. And then Dean found that he couldn't breathe at all, the air in his lungs leaving in a rush. Time stopped and for a moment everything was the way it should be. Just them and this…. and then Dean realised, Cas probably just needed the money. Wanted Dean to start coming back more regularly because he always paid well. Dean treated Cas well, too. And what if the other clients were rougher, meaner? Yeah, these things. Dean knew they were the real reason Cas had said what he'd said. Not some accidental slip.

But it didn't really matter, not to Dean. He'd already made up his mind. So, he'd said nothing. Pretended he hadn't heard.

...until the next time.

Dean packed up the few things he owned. Left all the crappy furniture he'd accumulated in the equally crappy apartment he hated, got in his car and didn't look back.

They made love, because he knew it would probably be the last time. Dean savoured every second with Cas. Hoped his long licks and trembling bites, soft moans and desperate squeezes told Cas everything Dean knew he still had to say, so he wouldn't have to… but, as astute as his angel in a trench coat was, Cas couldn't read minds.

So, Dean dressed. Then, chewing at his bottom lip, emptied the bag he'd brought with him onto the bed. Cas' eyes blew wide at the sight of all the bills that spilled from Dean's largest duffle.

I can't do this, Cas, he blurted. Can't let my decisions be controlled by some high and mighty less-than-human asshole anymore. So I'm... leaving. And I ain't comin' back... and he only stopped to take a breath, steal his courage, because there was more to the speech he'd planned—but Cas cut him off there.

It's okay, I was waiting for this. Knew it was probably coming, Cas said flatly. Then he spat, but, Dean, do you really think I want your fucking money? God, I was so foolish to think that maybe you... Just, please leave, Dean. Leave and let me keep the ounce of dignity I'm managing to hang on to. Cas turned away from Dean now. Wouldn't let him see those pretty blue eyes.

Then Dean said it. Cas, I want you to come with me. Don't know where, but I wanna get you outta this.

Dean knew he had to do more. Say more. Cas needed the words neither had really spoken; had rarely been said to either of them. Hell, Dean needed to say them just as much.

Not able to look directly at the man who meant everything to him—too scared, too cowardly—Dean said, I love you, Cas. Like nothing else. And I know you only said it to me 'cause you thought you had to... but it's okay. I don't mind that you don't. I just wanna… I gotta help you be safe, man. Away from here. Please let me. Then you can go wherever you like, do whatever you wanna and I'll—

A small sob cut Dean's speech short. He looked up at Cas as, terrified his words had maybe had the opposite effect. But Cas flew at Dean, threw arms around Dean's neck and held onto him, speaking quiet yes, yes, yeses, into the shoulder of Dean's leather jacket.

They left via the fire escape.

...it was the last time.

Dean drove them into and through the night, Cas gripping his free hand tightly, not letting go. Not even once.

After two more days on the road, when they were about to leave the state, Dean asked Cas, where to?

Cas said, take me home.

Unsure of what it meant but sure about this—about them—Dean asked, where is home, sweetheart? because he knew he'd do whatever it took to be with this man.

Cas looked out of the window for a moment and smiled. Then, laughing gently, he looked back at Dean and told him, anywhere you take me, baby.

[rudysrings]

Napping in Public

Sequel to THIS

 Warnings: Anxiety and panic attacks.... fluff

A/N: Ok so this isn't really a part two, but it's the same story-ish… idk read it… you'll know what I mean…

 Though you took care of him during all of those unexpected moments in which he dozed off in public, Tom took such good care of you when it was just the two of you, not that he hid that part of your relationship in public, but more you let yourself be vulnerable around him and only him.

 This side of Tom came out often when you were stressed from the endless journey that was your education. You took pride in your studies, in your innate desire to acquire knowledge and Tom admired that passion of yours. But he couldn't deny that just as you hated when the horrors of fame adversely affected him, he hated how a poor performance on an exam could make you feel so low.

 He'd become rather accustomed to your tells of a panic attack. They were something he was rather intimately acquainted with himself, given his position in the spotlight.

 The first time was one of those rare times that he was home. Unfortunately, it was during your first finals week of university and it was a shit storm you hadn't been prepared for. You had spent the whole week pushing Tom away, irritated and fussy, and while it was frustrating Tom, he also understood, because he was sure that he was no different when all the press interviews were getting to him.

 You were scrambling to finish an essay for your film studies class and Tom, the dear boyfriend he was, had taken it upon himself to get to cooking dinner for the two of you, whether you wanted to eat or not. He was worried at how you were slowly withering away, working yourself to death.

 He had tried to sit beside you, maybe get you to take a break by kissing your neck playfully, but you had merely pushed him away gently, saying, "I've got a lot to finish tonight, Tom."

 Tom sighed, leaving one last kiss on your cheek and getting up, heading to the kitchen. He was in the middle of stir frying vegetables when he heard your soft sniffling.

 He paused, turning to look at you and saw that you were trying to stifle the little hiccups that were making their way up your throat.

 Tom's shoulders dropped and his heart broke as he saw your forehead wrinkle with worry, your breath coming faster than usual. He turned the stove off and walked towards you, ignoring how your hands were trying to push him away. "Tom, I have to work. I'm fine."

 Your eyes, however, told a different story. Wide with anxiety, they were a cry for help and Tom recognized that, an emotion he had felt all too often when he was first thrown into the Hollywood life, an emotion he still felt from time to time now.

 He knew you needed to establish your senses, it was a life saving lesson he had been taught years ago. He pulled you to him, gathering you in his arms and pressing your cheek to his chest, right up against his heartbeat. He cradled you like this and you broke. "Tommy! …mph…" Your cries were muffled by his shirt, which you fisted in your hand as you tried to breathe.

 He tried to calm you. "Shh. S'alright, love. You're okay."

 Once you calmed down, Tom sat down with you as you completed your essay, even helping you with it.

 The next time it happened though, Tom didn't have the luxury of being at home. You had just bombed your calculus midterm and were in tears by the time you walked home. As you felt your breath quicken, you reached for the phone to call the one person who could fix it.

 He picked up immediately, and you figured that he was in between scenes-in his trailer or something.

 His colorful hello was greeted with your anxious words. "Tom…Tommy?"

 He immediately got serious and clenched his fist, angry that he wasn't with you. "I'm right here, darling, don't worry. Just take a couple of deep breaths and tell me what you see."

 You focused on the objects around the room. "I-uh-I see the TV and our coffee table…I see the picture of me looking at you on it, too?"

 Tom smiled at the thought of that picture. It was one of his favorites. He was curled up against you, taking a nap on your shoulder and you were looking down at him sweetly. Jacob had snapped that rare moment and he was grateful for it. It was seldom that he got to see how much you actually adored him.

 "That's great, darling. What do you hear, sweetheart?"

 At this point, you were beginning to calm down, counting your breaths. "I hear your voice, Tom."

 Tom pushed-"What do I sound like?"

 You smiled, just barely. "You sound like waves crashing on shore, Tom. Like silk on silk. You sound like home, Tommy."

 Tom laughed. "You cheeseball!" He teased.

 You rolled your eyes. "We all know the cheeseball in this relationship is you, Holland."

 He shrugged. "I'm aware and I'm proud."

 After a bit longer of small talk and teasing, Tom had to go. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you this time, sweet girl."

 You could hear the sorrow and guilt in his voice and you loathed it. "Oh, but you were, love! You were."

 He sighed. "Still. I'm gonna come visit this weekend, if that's alright. I've been wanting to come home to you anyways and they don't need me here for any scenes 'til Monday."

 "I want you to come home, too."

 Tom couldn't help but say, "Yeah, I could really use a nap, love."

 A/N: Was it awful?

[saleintothe90s]

422. ”Carrie” (May 12 - May 15 1988)

I adore reading about flops. One of my favorite flops to read about is Carrie the musical. A doomed production from the start. Millions of dollars wasted. Bad costumes. Filler songs.

Similar to my Simpsons season 10 review, I wanna give something to the worst aspects of the show. With Simpsons, bad episodes were awarded Marge’s homemade Pepsi. For Carrie, I think I’m going to give the bad parts the “Vending Machine Maxi Pad” award. 

As most anybody who follows Broadway flops knows, clips from Carrie are scarce and are in poor condition on YouTube. Most of the actual clips are from when the show was in test productions in Stratford Upon Avon, but the music has been replaced with the Broadway soundboard.  So, keep that in mind. Most of the time you can’t even make out what’s going on. Here’s the closest copy of the entire show I could find on YouTube, from the Sratford Upon Avon production. 

I know people bash the musical, and sometimes it’s rightfully so, but two things are consistent: Linzi Hateley who played Carrie, and that orchestra that is on.point. Check out the overture.

(source)

The show begins with girls cheering in gym class in the beginning of an aerobics lesson?  The white gym shorts look like diapers. That’s the first of many costume mistakes. 

The song is a banger, I love Darlene Love playing the gym teacher, she’s my favorite part of the song. The only part that is cringey to me is when the girls sing “I go CrAzZyyyyy” and they get on the ground and dance like a toddler having a temper tantrum in a Toys R Us. Since the audio quality is so bad in these clips, I thought at one point the girls were singing about not being caught picking their nose, no, the lyric is:

Bought the clothes, did my nose,

Near the end of the song, the girls are on these rising rafters? It took me for-ever to realize that they were simulating a cheerleader pyramid, and that Carrie had snuck in near the end of the number to be on the bottom of the pyramid. Oh, and she causes it to fall and someone tells her to eat shit. 

“Dream On” is the song that the girls sing while in the showers. Why yes, it does look like they’re in the nude due to the poor quality of the video.  The song is ok, it gives total night driving home from the mall in the late 80s early 90s vibes.  Although one girl says the line, “Six foot three and he's in his forties!”. WHAT. 

Carrie breaks those vibes at around 3:44 by screaming that she’s bleeding. When Miss Gardener slaps Carrie, a cymbal plays. I love it.

I like to imagine that when the girls threw the tampons and pads at Carrie, some flew into the audience. 

“Carrie” is shrill at first, and then it turns into a bit of snoozefest. Linzi sings the name “Carrie” about 458 times. 

Betty Buckley who previously had played the original Grizabella in Cats. and who played the gym teacher in the original movie plays Carrie’s mom. Her song, “Open Your Heart” is pretty good. It’s a nice little break before mom goes bottoms up on Carrie for getting her period (”And Eve Was Weak” [Stratford version with Barbara Cook]):

Carrie: I was in the shower and...

Mom: You’re forbidden from showering with the other girls...

Carrie: I started to bleed!

While Carrie spends the rest of the night in a cellar, the popular girls are at the drive-in. Now, this musical cost over $7 million dollars 1, but yet this was the best set they could think of for a drive-in movie theater: 

It looks like something out of a high school play -- which I guess makes a little sense since they are high schoolers? I’m grabbing at straws here. It cost so much money to put Carrie on, what’s a few more dollars to have two real hollowed out cars on stage, one with Chris (in the red) & Billy (in black) in it, and the other with Sue (pink leggings) and Tommy (purple windbreaker)? 

“Don’t Waste the Moon” is the song sung at the drive-in, with Sue having regrets about throwing tampons at Carrie in the beginning of the song. The song is very 1980s, and it kind of doesn’t fit in the musical. Gene Anthony Ray’s (Billy) talent is wasted here. 

It’s time for some “Evening Prayers” for Carrie where she discusses with God her new telekinesis powers. Meanwhile Carrie’s mom is being a worrywort. During the Stratford production, Carrie’s mom is in a rocking chair over there looking like Whistler’s Mother. 

“You’re going to tell Carrie that you’re sorry!” belts out Miss Gardner. In the musical, Chris seems more obsessed with torturing Carrie than in the movie or book if that’s even possible. Sue is like, “What did she even do to you?”. Even Billy asked earlier, “Who the hell is Carrie White?”. 

Oooof. Seeing the gym teacher try to cheer Carrie up by singing a song about the prom (”Unsuspecting Hearts”) and how she could go too is patronizing. Even if its sung by Darlene Love. 

“Do Me a Favor” might be the most infamous song from the musical. It’s the song I see referred to the most when I read bad reviews. For some reason Chris is wearing a metallic red bodysuit and Sue is wearing a light pink bodysuit. Are they supposed to be that cliche devil and the angel on the shoulder thing? 

Chris looks like Evil Homer! 

I’m going be the unpopular opinion here and say that I love the song! The erratic dancing also fits with the song. 

Carrie tells her mom before “I Remember How Those Boys Would Dance” that Tommy is sweet and polite, but the audience doesn’t know that. Tommy is barely a character in this production. In the end, Carrie uses her powers to shut her mama up.

From what I gather in “Out for Blood” (audio) where Chris and Billy go looking for a pig to kill, the chorus dancers are the pigs? The video quality is so poor. Chris had another crazy ass red outfit on, some sort of shiny red skirt and a crop top. The costumes in this are just horrible. It was like the wardrobe budget was $50. 

This song is so.so.bad. It reminds me of whenever Rocko from Rocko’s Modern Life would see a movie trailer or a parody of something on TV for some reason?! Or the “gotta get that Reptar song” from Rugrats when the kids saw Reptar on ice. Especially when the chorus tells Billy to kill the pig: 

CHORUS Cha! Kill the pig, pig, pig! CHRIS Go! CHORUS Kill 'im, kill 'im, kill, kill! We'll make him bleed! CHRIS Go! CHORUS Get the blood, blood, blood Oooh, blood! CHRIS Oh, baby show... CHORUS Kill the pig, make 'im bleed Let's get the blood, that's all we need!

Sue’s song “It Hurts to be Strong” is a bit of a throw-away. It gets a vending machine maxi pad award. Moving on. It’s filler  

In “I’m Not Alone”, Carrie sings while using her powers to move things around in her room. What things? I don’t know the video quality was so bad. That’s another thing! The sets are nonexistent! I wouldn’t know we were in Carrie’s room unless the Playbill told me. It’s another forgettable song. Three in a row!

Betty Buckley saves the day in, “When There’s No One”, a sad song about facing life without Carrie being her subordinate. 

I don’t understand the prom dresses in “Wotta Night”, they’re all garish giant white numbers that make the actresses look about 20 pounds heaver.  The guys look like that Rio doll from Jem. The costume designer couldn’t just go to Alexanders or A&S and buy prom dresses? You know, why am I even asking at this point. We all saw what Chris has been wearing this whole time. There is a disco ball thrown aside in the corner instead of hanging up. More on that later.

The song sounds way too much like that song “Rock on” by David Essex.  Automatic Vending Machine Maxi Pad. 

Here’s a cute rehearsal clip I found of “Heaven”, the song sung while the Prom Queen and King ballots are being counted. Unfortunately, the audio is bad. Chris is there to remind us that she’s still out for blood.

Finally, finally it’s time for Carrie the prom queen to get drenched with blood -- but the thing is, due to microphone technology back then, Carrie really couldn’t have blood dumped on her. Chris and Billy just run up to her and half ass pour the bucket at her. Could the set designer not suspend the bucket from above the stage? Is that also why the disco ball is thrown in the corner? I don’t even think she has stage blood on her during “The Destruction”, (which is the best song from the musical).  I think a red spotlight over Carrie signifies the blood.

I think Linzi is really only truly covered in blood for press shots. 

Anyway, the Destruction, I love it when she screeches “DOESN’T ANYBODY EVER GET IT RIGHT??! DOESN’T ANYBODY THINK THAT I HEAR?!” It’s the best. I could listen to it all day and I almost did the other day. 

Due the poor video quality, I can’t really tell how the prom-goers are dying. They’re kinda just twitching there in the laser light or slamming themselves against the clear barrier that descended from the stage to signify Carrie closing the doors to the gym. 

After Carie kills everybody, this giant white staircase descends and covers up the gym. I read somewhere, I forgot where, that its supposed to be the school stairs? We’re led to believe that Carrie’s crazy mom ran to the school. The first time I saw it, I thought that it was Carrie and her mom getting ready to go to heaven. I thought maybe someone over at the set department took the classic song too literally. 

It appears that while the stairs are descending, Carrie smears stage blood on her. 

The reprise of “Carrie’ is so much better than the original. Carrie stops her mom’s heart cold mid song. Then she slins down the stairs and Sue catches her. In an interview on playbill.com, Betty Buckley says that on opening night (I don’t know if she meant the first preview, or the official opening night), there were boos from the audience at the end, but cheers for Linzi and herself. I believe it. Betty and Linzi were amazing. Darlene Love was amazing. The rough scenes are the scenes with the school kids. They’re awful, in the words of my boy Jay Sherman, “they’re awful I tell you. aw.ful.” 

(relevant prom .gif) 

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1. Rothstein, Mervyn. “After Seven Years And $7 Million, ‘Carrie’ Is a Kinetic Memory (Published 1988).” The New York Times, May 17, 1988, sec. Theater. https://www.nytimes.com/1988/05/17/theater/after-seven-years-and-7-million-carrie-is-a-kinetic-memory.html.

New York City Broadway reviews on the news in NYC for Carrie.  That first reviewer, Stuart Klein, I love him. I’ve watched several of his reviews on flops on YouTube. Joel Sigel who was the Good Morning America film reviewer is here too. 

Archive of Betty Buckley interview. 

[abarbaricyalp]

In Any Version of Reality (i'd find you and i'd choose you)

@pynchpromptweek

Pynch // Prompt: Alternate Meeting // Rated: T for mature themes

Warnings: Discussion of canon typical abuse and night terror injuries several times, discussion of blood, death, and trauma

AO3 Link

In which: Adam and Ronan meet over and over again

It might’ve happened like this: 16

Ronan Lynch was quitting the tennis team but still had to go to practices for the semester. So he was particularly angry when he realized he was in pain and his nose was gushing blood during said practice.

“I’m going home,” he said, in the particular surly way sixteen year old boys, but particularly Ronan Lynch, had.

His coach grabbed him by the gym shirt and hauled him to the nurse’s office anyway. “Sit down, shut up, and behave,” the man ordered and disappeared around a corner to explain to the school nurse what had happened.

Ronan wasn’t paying attention because in front of him, the most beautiful boy he’d ever seen was organizing supplies and cross checking some log. He saw the boy look up at him and knew he was talking because his mouth was moving but Ronan didn’t hear any of it.

“I don’t know, a bandaid?” he ventured eventually.

The boy raised a fine eyebrow. “A bandaid did that to your face? Here.” He handed Ronan a gauze ball and showed him how to apply pressure properly without hurting himself too much. Ronan assumed there were verbal instructions too, but he couldn’t hear them over the roar of his heart.

“It’s Ronan, right?” the boy asked, familiar words breaking through Ronan’s stupor.

“Yeah. Ronan Lynch,” he answered. “Who are you?”

The boy grinned a little shyly and shrugged. “I’m new. I’m only a nurse aid until I can take my entrance exam for Latin II. I transferred over and they won’t just let me join my cohort.”

“You’re a sophomore?” Ronan asked, excitement bubbling in his chest because he was a sophomore in Latin II which meant he’d see a lot more of the new kid.

“Yeah, yeah, I transferred at the break. My name’s Adam. Adam Parrish,” he said, and held out a perfect hand.

Ronan shook it.

It might’ve happened like this: 15

Ronan was sitting in a hospital hallway, scratching at the thick bandages around his forearms while Declan filled out paperwork down the hall and Gansey tried to prove he wasn’t beside himself with worry by buying too much from the vending machine in the next wing.

He wasn’t expecting a boy his age to sit down next to him in the uncomfortable plastic chairs, a blue cast all the way to his elbow.

“Hey,” Ronan said.

“Hey,” the kid greeted. He had light hair and sad eyes and Ronan already wanted to take him home like he was some lost puppy.

Like Ronan wasn’t the lost puppy at the moment.

“Sitting over here feels like sitting at the kids table at holidays, huh?” Ronan said.

The kid shrugged. “Wouldn’t know. I don’t have a lot of extended family.”

“What happened to your arm?”

“What happened to yours?”

Ronan scowled but the kid didn’t seem like he was easily cowed. “I sleep walk. I hurt myself doing it.” Which wasn’t...a lie lie. It was...an untruth.

The kid glanced at a man at the receptionist’s desk and grimaced. “I fell down the stairs.” And Ronan knew that was a lie lie.

“Well, I hope you get less clumsy,” Ronan said anyway.

“Could say the same to you.”

“Yeah, it wouldn’t do either of us very much good, would it?” Ronan asked.

The kid looked at him, appraising and tired and then he shrugged. “Probably not.”

“My name’s Ronan,” Ronan said.

“Adam, let’s go,” the man from the receptionist’s desk barked, and Adam jumped up so fast he might’ve knocked over the bolted down chairs.

“I’ll see you around, Ronan,” Adam said.

But they didn’t.

It might’ve happened like this: 22

Gansey was having a field day with this whole scenario. Ronan hated him for it. But probably not as much as he hated himself for agreeing to it. Then again, the check sitting on his kitchen table--a down payment, no less--was enough for him to forgo hatred for a while.

He watched the studio trailers drive in like little white ants. They set up a perimeter where they wanted to work and Ronan watched horse trailers get unloaded and set up in old barns and cameras set up in empty fields.

The first person to approach him was a dusty man with dusty hair and dusty skin and bright eyes. “Hey, sir, sorry to bother you,” he greeted, all Virginia charm and hick. “But I was wonderin’ if I might be able to use a spare room. The talent don’t show up until tomorrow and we’re a bed short without our full camper caravan. Uh, they told me to remind you the house is part of the contract.”

Ronan scowled and the man grinned cheerily back. “You’re not an actor, right?” Ronan asked.

The man paused, head almost ticking to the side. “Like I said, sir, the talent’ll show up tomorrow.”

Ronan grumbled and turned around to let the man in, detouring to the kitchen to pour him coffee.

“Wow, you better not let anyone else know you make the good stuff,” the man said with a laugh, sipping at the drink even though it was hot and he cringed every time. “They’ll come raid your whole place for a good cup.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” Ronan said drily. He sat down at his dining table and the man followed. “It’s Ronan.”

“Adam,” the man said.

Ronan eyed him suspiciously. “Isn’t  the lead actor on this project Adam Parrish?”

Again, the man’s eyebrows rose a little and Ronan got the complete sense that he was being studied. “You don’t know what Adam Parrish looks like?”

“Does he look like you?” Ronan asked.

The man’s mouth quirked into a smirk and he leaned back in the chair. “Nah, Adam Parrish is a movie star,” he said, like Ronan hadn’t just said the same thing. “I’m just trailer trash.”

“Are you making a joke about your campers or divulging life information on me?”

The man shrugged. “Why not both? You really don’t know who Adam Parrish is?”

Ronan shook his head and took too large a swallow of his drink, making a face as it burned his throat. “I don’t have a TV. I prefer to read.” Every single one of his high school teachers would’ve begged to differ, but a lot could happen in five years. “And my friends aren’t big into movies either.”

“Yeah, but he’s on all the magazine covers,” the man tried.

“Do I look like a middle aged housewife? I ain’t reading People and US Weekly.”

Adam  hummed and nodded. “He’s a good guy, people say. Don’t be too mean to him.”

“Who, Parrish?” Ronan asked. “Didn’t he win a bunch of Oscars the other year or something?”

“Well, there was only one solo award. The rest was ensemble awards. Best Movie and all that. Besides, even winning Best Actor means he had a good director and supporting cast, y’know.”

“You don’t sound like a fan,” Ronan said.

The man choked on a laugh and shrugged again. “Guess I just know how much teamwork goes into a movie, is all.”

“How come an Oscar winner wants to come do some campy western all the way out here?”

The man leaned forward conspiratorially. “I heard he’s always wanted to be a cowboy. Even took horse riding lessons with his first check. Besides, he’s from out here. This town I think.”

“There’s no way Henrietta made some movie star and I’ve never heard of him,” Ronan objected. There were many ways that he’d never heard of him, but that was besides the point.

The man shrugged. “Too many schools out here. Easy to miss someone.” Then, tripping over himself to explain, he said, “We did a lot of scouting of the region.”

Ronan shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. Is Parrish playing the werewolf? Is he a cowboy-werewolf?” he asked.

Adam laughed and shrugged. “Who’s to say. You might just have to go watch this movie.”

Ronan rolled his eyes and stood up. “Come on, let me show you to the spare room. The closet is stocked with blankets and pillows. Bathroom’s connected. It’s a Jack-And-Jill, but no one’s in the other room. And I guess if you don’t tell anyone, you can help yourself to the fridge.”

Adam grinned at him and held out his hand. “I think we’re gonna get along great, Ronan.”

Ronan rolled his eyes but shook Adam’s hand. He had a cowboy’s handshake, or at least what Ronan assumed a cowboy’s handshake would feel like, warm, firm, calloused. A lifetime of work behind it.

“Whatever, just let me know if you need help clearing property or something.”

The man grinned, crooked and beautiful. “Sure thing, sir.”

Ronan left him to do whatever he wanted and by the time he got downstairs, there were three more people at his door.

“Jesus Christ, what do you all want?” he snapped.

Someone with a clipboard blinked up at him. “Uh, we were told Parrish came over here? He’s got a light check in five minutes.”

Ronan frowned and shook his head. “No, I’ve just got one of you crew guys up here. I thought Parrish wasn’t coming in until tomorrow.”

Behind the guy with the clipboard, a woman smacked her palm into her forehead. “Jesus. Is this crew guy’s name Adam by any chance?”

“Wait,” said clipboard guy, “you don’t know who Adam Parrish is?”

Ronan’s stomach dropped out from under him. “Why are you asking me like that?”

“I told all of you I’d be there on time,” Adam said from behind them. He put his hand on the small of Ronan’s back to slip by him. “I know how to read a time schedule.”

“You really didn’t know this was Adam Parrish? And he introduced himself to you as Adam?” clipboard guy repeated, pointing up at Adam.

Adam smiled bashfully. “Sorry. It was just so nice to talk to someone who didn’t know who I was,” he said. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

Ronan blushed furiously as Adam Parrish was herded away.

As it turns out, he did go see the movie. At the premier, on Adam Parrish’s arm.

It might’ve happened like this: 18

It was the dead of night and Ronan had followed the only flicker of light across down in a truck that was wheezing its last breath. He’d (barely) graduated highschool and immediately decided to never take another class in his life and start a farm instead.

Only he hadn’t expected all the old trucks his father had owned to be on their last leg and completely useless for hauling wood and supplies. So here he was, half pushing the truck into Boyd’s garage. He’d driven past the old bays a thousand and one times but had never gone in. The BMW drove like a dream and so he’d never had reason to. Until now.

A tall man came out of the far bay, wiping his hands on a towel, and appraised the truck in the dark. “Sorry, I’m not gonna be able to get to it until the morning,” he said and Ronan’s toes curled at his voice.

“That’s alright. I just couldn’t leave it on the side of the road,” he said. “And risking the engine to get it here was better than calling a tow truck.”

“You need a ride home?” the guy asked. “I was just gettin’ ready to lock up.”

Ronan weighed his options, between calling Gansey and taking a ride from a stranger. A stranger with really nice hands.

“I could use a ride.”

The guy grinned at him and hooked something up to the front of the truck to finish pulling it into the bay. “Might not get to this one until tomorrow evening, if that’s alright. We’ve got a full garage right now. Lots of minivans getting ready for summer vacations.”

Ronan snorted and shrugged. “Guess I can’t argue. Ain’t like I can take it anywhere else.”

“That’s true. You’re a captive audience. I’m over here,” he said, nodding to a Franken-Car. “Just give me half a second to lock down the doors.” The guy ducked into a bay and pulled all the garage doors down until Boyd’s was just a black shape against the night sky, and then he came out of the front office, and locked the door.

“What name should I put down on the paperwork?” he asked as he piled into the ugly car. With a dubious look at the hood, Ronan followed.

“I’m Ronan.”

“Good to meet you, Ronan. I’m Adam. Where am I taking you?”

And if people saw movement in the yellow glow of Boyd’s second bay the next night, bodies tangling together and coming apart, it wasn’t any of their business.

It might’ve happened like this: 13

Ronan sat in an uncomfortable chair outside of a boring cubicle and tried not to think about how Delcan was curled around Matthew in a kid’s playroom of the foster agency building and Ronan would be more than welcome. Nothing about the past twenty four hours felt childlike. He didn’t feel childlike anymore.

The image of his father laying in the driveway and no one else around the pool of blood was imprinted on Ronan’s brain forever. He was never going to be okay again.

Shouting made Ronan lift his head. In the attached wing of the building, a man was shouting obscenities and a female social worker led a boy away from him, shielding the kid with her body as they waited for doors to unlock.

The boy was small, but Ronan’s age, he could tell by the way his hair hung in his eyes and the uneven knobs of his elbows. He was growing into his body the same way Ronan was. Puberty camaraderie was a thing. The woman came into the children’s wing, murmuring reassurances to the boy and petting his hair. The man who’d brought Ronan, Declan, and Matthew in had done nothing of the sort.

“Here, Mr. Adam. Sit here with Ronan for a little while while we get paperwork sorted out for you.”

Up close, Ronan could see the kid was bruised all to hell and he moved gingerly as he sat down beside Ronan. He hugged his arms against his chest and didn’t glance at Ronan until Ronan nudged his foot against the kid’s.

“Your name’s Adam?” he asked, and ignored how his voice wobbled a little bit.

The kid nodded. “And you’re Ronan. What kind of name is that?”

“It’s Irish,” Ronan said. Normally he had a whole spiel about his name, but just thinking about his dad made his throat seize up and he couldn’t give it.

“Who did that to you?” Ronan asked.

“Who do you think?” Adam asked, nodding at the name of the foster agency on the wall.

“What’s gonna happen to you?” Because they both seemed like sensible guys who knew what this building meant.

Adam shrugged. “I guess they’re trying to call my aunts and uncles, but I don’t think I have any.”

“I don’t either,” Ronan said. “They said they had to read my Dad’s will.”

Adam grimaced next to him. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“I am too. About your face.”

“Do you want to stay here?” Adam asked.

Ronan nodded quickly. “It’s home. I want to go home!” he said a little louder, to no reaction from the caseworker next to them. “What about you?” he asked, when he’d settled down. “Do you want to stay.”

Adam shook his head. “I hate this town.”

“Well,” Ronan said, sitting back. “I hope you get out.”

At the same time, the door opened and a wild haired woman--white hair, down to her waist--rushed in. “My name is Persephone. I’m here for Adam.”

Adam and Ronan looked at each other.

“Do you know here?” Ronan asked out of the corner of his mouth.

Adam shook his head. “I’ve never seen her before in my life.”

“That’s alright,” the woman said from across the way, no way she could’ve heard them. “I know you, Adam.”

“Ronan Lynch, we’ve got everything squared away with the school. They’ll have dorms for you and  your brothers by this evening,” the caseworker next to them said with a cheery smile that belonged nowhere near the situation.

Ronan and Adam stood up together.

“Sounds like we’re both staying here,” Adam said.

“And neither of us is getting what we want,” Ronan replied.

The boys sighed and Adam held out an arm with a nasty friction burn on it, fingers curled in a fist. “Maybe we’ll see each other again,” he suggested.

Ronan knocked his knuckles against Adam’s. “Yeah, maybe.”

And they did.

It might’ve happened like this: 17

Ronan pulled up to the red light with a rev of his engine. The Mitsu revved back. For once, Kavinsky’s windows were tinted and he didn’t roll down the window to leer at Ronan, but he knew Kavinsky’s Mitsu, the spoiler and the decal and all the gaudy ugliness of it all.

The light changed and the cars were off.

But something was wrong. Kavinsky didn’t stall like he always did and he didn’t let up on the first turn, like he always did. He did tear through the next yellow light, making Ronan continue the chase. And another. And another, far longer than Kavinsky had ever raced before. The longer they drove, the less sure Ronan got of himself until he hesitated at a two-way and the Mitsu kept going, screeching to a halt in a cul-de-sac. The BMW sadly roared in a second later.

Ronan jumped out of the BMW, fuming and angry and embarrassed. He had to beat the shit out of Kavinsky  so he’d think it was just a dream or something. Instead, though, he came up short when someone other than Kavinsky folded himself out of the Mitsu. And it wasn’t anyone else in the immediate Dream-Pack either. It was a tall kid with a blonde hair, tanned skin, a bruised cheek, and a taunting grin.

“I don’t know how K hasn’t done that to you before,” the guy gloated as he strode over to Ronan. “He made it seem like you were a racer and you’re not anything more than he is.”

Ronan fumed and stepped up to the guy. He had an inch or two on him, but it was nothing like the advantage he had on other guys he fought. As it was, before Ronan could lift a hand, the blond held up a finger, then pointed down the street where the rest of the Dream-Pack was turning.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” he said and climbed into the passenger side of the BMW.

Shocked, Ronan followed on autopilot, getting back into the driver’s seat. “If you win this one,” the guy said, “I’ll blow you on the drive back.”

“Who are you?” Ronan demanded, turning to look at the guy, a blush high on his cheeks.

The other man grinned at him. “You don’t recognize me, huh? Name’s Parrish. We have Bio together.”

Right, fuck. The scholarship kid with the grease on his hands.

“Did you rig the Mitsu to do that?” Ronan asked. “At the shop or whatever?”

Parrish laughed, head thrown back, mean and biting. “Hell no. Kavinsky doesn’t have a clue what to do with all the firepower under that hood. I do.”

“You do?” Ronan repeated.

“I’m good with my hands,” Parrish said and then nodded to the line of cars around them. “Drive and you’ll find out.”

Ronan drove.

It might’ve happened like this: 18

Matthew somehow had friends at Mountain View High and had begged Ronan to take him to see them play in their baseball game. Aglionby’s baseball team sucked. Mountain View, it turned out, did not. Most of their success, Ronan thought, could be contributed to the fact that Aglionby hadn’t managed to get a single hit off of MVH’s pitcher.

If Ronan managed to find a stray dog to play with near the bullpen while he was warming up, or happened to be chilling next to the home team dug out when he wasn’t batting, that was no one’s business. After the game, after Matthew had disappeared with his friends, after the stands had cleared, the boy emerged from the dugout, dragging equipment with him.

“Hey,” Ronan said, pretending like he hadn’t been waiting around. “Need help?”

“Why am I not surprised that you’re still around, Raven Boy?” the kid asked, a scowl coming to his pink mouth. “Need help finding the parking lot?”

Ronan rolled his eyes and reached for the base that was falling out of the kid’s arms. “No, told you I’m just trynna help.”

The pitcher glared at him but didn’t keep arguing. Instead, he walked off to a shed set away from the fields and fought a key free to unlock it.

“They always leave this job for one person?” Ronan asked.

“No, usually it’s two, but the guy who was supposed to stay with me got hurt and had to go to the med clinic,” Adam said.

Ronan remembered a kid taking a bad pitch to the ribs. He sucked in a breath in sympathy.

“Well, how about you help me with this shit and I’ll treat you to dinner,” Ronan suggested. It was brash and forward and dangerous, but he felt like it would work. He really wanted it to work.

The kid looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “It’s my job. Aren’t you supposed to be helping me and I’ll pay.”

Ronan shrugged. “Sure, I’m sure there’s a MVH discount at Nino’s.”

Adam snorted. “They’d lose half their money that way.”

“Well, they definitely don’t give a shit about giving us a discount.”

“Poor rich kids. How do you afford nine dollar pizzas?”

“Hey, some of us go often enough to keep the doors open,” Ronan laughed. “So… is that a yes to dinner?”

“What’s your name, Raven Boy?” the guy asked.

“It’s Lynch. Ronan Lynch.”

“I’m Adam. And you’re buying me dinner tonight.”

It might’ve happened like this: 16

Gansey caught Ronan staring at the boy with the bike and pulled over in front of him.

“Hey!” he called, waving like the kid wouldn’t be able to see him. “Need a ride?”

And the kid put his bike in the trunk and climbed into the car. “I’m Gansey,” Gansey said, turning the full effect of his charm on the new kid. “This is Ronan.”

The kid glanced between them warily, eyes lingering on Ronan’s like he could see the longing in them, before knocking his knuckles against Gansey’s. “I’m Adam Parrish.”

“Well, Adam, what do you know about dead Welsh kings?”

It might’ve happened like this: 16

Gansey sat down at the lunch table across from Ronan like all the troubles in the world were on his shoulders. Surprisingly, someone sat down next to him. It was the kid from the road, God damn Gansey. 

“Ronan, this is Adam. Adam, this is Ronan. Ignore his snarl, he’s a decent guy,” Gansey introduced and then set off on swapping pieces of his sandwich for Ronan’s and taking one of the sweets Ronan had grabbed for an apple from Gansey’s plate. “It’s Adam’s first day. I’m his guide for the school.”

“Sucks for you,” Ronan said to Adam, teasing out a grin from Adam, which he hid very well.

Gansey kept chattering with Adam while he ate a sandwich. When it was gone, so was Gansey, off to talk to the row team or something.

“Um, so you play tennis right?” Adam said after a second of watching Ronan categorically destroy his own sandwich.

Ronan looked up at him with irritation but shrugged. “Sure. I used to.” He half expected Gansey to appear and remind them both that he had two junior titles and a state title behind him.

“I, uh, just saw your tattoo the other day. I was getting a tour. You musta been trying to take the cover off the ball, you were hitting it so hard.”

Ronan sneered, but it might have been an aborted smile. “They took you by the tennis courts?”

“I tried to tell them I wasn’t going to play a sport, but I guess your PE credit is required here.”

Ronan balked at the thought of watching Adam work out. “You’re a nerd then?” he asked, finally taking a bite of his sandwich.

Adam took a significantly smaller bite of a peanut butter sandwich. Ronan realized he didn’t have anything else and he flicked the apple at him. Adam looked at it and ignored it. “You mean I transferred in to learn and not to get recruited for a row scholarship?” he clarified.

“Yeah, something like that,” Ronan said. “You’re not so bad, nerd.”

Adam rolled his eyes.

But, really, it had to happen like this: 16

Two months after the scholarship kid showed up at the school, he walked through the door of Monmouth. Ronan turned down his music, curious but keeping his face schooled as anything but.

“Ronan, Adam just saved my life!” Gansey called. Ronan appeared in the mouth of the hallway connecting the living room and bedrooms and found Gansey, almost disheveled, and the scholarship student/bike kid standing in the the middle of Gansey’s ‘bedroom.’

“How’s that?” he asked. “He dig you out of whatever ditch your shitty car left you in?”

Adam was reading the spines of the books on Gansey’s desk and didn’t seem keen on answering.

“Yes, exactly. He actually got it up and running before I had to call a tow truck,” Gansey explained, shrugging out of his jacket and revealing grease and mud stains on the shirt under it.

“It sounds magical,” Ronan said, deadpan.

“And he knew about Glendower.”

Now Adam did turn, looking a little bashful. “Just that he’s a character in Henry IV,” he explained.

“That’s more than most people know,” Ronan said.

“You guys don’t read Henry IV in private school?”

“You read Henry IV freshman year?” Ronan asked.

Adam shrugged. “My teacher hated Romeo and Juliet.”

Gansey laughed, full chested and free, and pulled Adam towards a spread of journals. “So, here’s what we’ve figured so far…”

“Have you double checked French translations?” Adam asked, pointing to something in a journal.

Gansey beamed up at him and Ronan realized he was doomed.

(I know I’m so late with this! Forgive me!)

[rogershoe]

Lights, Camera, Action

Part five

(Part four)

Masterlist

Summary: You’re a production assistant on the set of Cursed. The night before your first day at work, you opened your laptop to shockingly realise you’d be working with Daniel Sharman (and a plethora of other amazing actors), someone you’d been watching on screen since you were a teenager. You kept your expectations low, the PAs rarely got to interact with the talent…what was your chance?

Word count: 2.6k

Tag list: @sxperncturalimpala67 @mrsaaronkeener @tinygardensoul @disasterday​ @5am-cigarette @lancelotapricot @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @slytherlight @18somethingpsyche @ceruleanmusings@glxctt@cavillxhenry@lovelyapplessss@hereagainsstuff@linkpk88@aliceperdida@weeping-redemption@magicalsaladnacho@lancelotapricot@ineedyourskulls@fandomarstrash@cheythefangirl @pure-ghost @estrielle @tessxblxckthorn @isaac-lahey-is-bae​ @bubblyanis​ @proudhufflepuff77​

Warnings: age gap between reader and Daniel, swearing, blood/fear of blood, reader gets injured (cut on her finger), slow burn

Notes: This chapter is a lot shorter than the last one but also definitely more exciting!! I hope you guys like it and plzz lmk in the comments whether this was alright or not! I know that the plot of this part is a bit exaggerated but bare with me hahaha

You looked at Daniel and found that he had closed his eyes and Jasmine was dabbing a bit of powder over his T zone…probably to absorb the excess oil that she had proudly told you he didn’t have. 

“Do you do a lot of makeup yourself?” Jasmine asked you

“Not usually but sometimes I guess” you said

“So you know all the different brushes?”

 You thought back to the hours of mindless makeup videos you would spend hours watching at 3:00 am when you couldn’t sleep. 

“Yep, I do actually” you said confidently. Thank god you weren’t completely clueless in this new endeavour.

“Oh awesome! That’ll make all of this so much easier Y/N”

You laughed, happy that you were doing something right. You honestly just could’ve spent this whole time looking at Daniel but you obviously didn’t want to seem like a creep. You wondered if he recognised you from the battery station or his trailer. Not likely…you doubted that your face was all that memorable. 

“Can you pass me the spoolie?” she said, closing the powder and putting it on the counter. “It’s in the first drawer”

You quickly opened the drawer, and bent down to look through it. You were uncomfortably self conscious of how close you were to Daniel, your hips were almost brushing against his chair. 

Thankfully you spotted the spoolie and grabbed it, standing up straight and using your free hand to close the drawer. As you turned to give it to Jasmine, you took the opportunity to glance at Daniel. What you didn’t anticipate was to find his piercing eyes looking right back at you. His lips turned up and he smiled slightly at you. A small smile spread across your face and you felt your cheeks heat up.

 You hoped he didn’t notice you blushing and quickly turned away as Jasmine took the tool from your hand. You looked at her and saw her narrowing her eyes suspiciously at you. Trying to act natural, you looked around to see Cassandra walking back to you from talking to an extra across the trailer. Although she was one of the head make-up artists, she didn’t seem that old at all and looked to be in her early thirties.

“How’s it going Y/N? Not too overwhelmed I hope?” she said, a snide smirk on her face.

You swallowed slightly and attempted to sport a carefree smile on yours, “No, not yet”

She ignored your answer and instead went to look at Daniel. 

“Oh your beard needs a quick trim” she said laughing

Daniel smiled, “Do you have to? I’m trying to grow it out” he said laughing and running a hand across his jaw. You could tell by his expression that he was joking. 

Cassandra giggled like a little school girl making you raise your eyebrows and your stomach lurch. You could tell she was enjoying working with Daniel just as much as you

“Y/N, pass me the facial scissor” 

You looked towards the counter where she was pointing and saw a tin full of multiple small scissors, some open some closed. As you wrapped your fingers around one of the tools, you felt a sharp pain on your index finger and quickly pulled your hand away, the scissor clattering onto the floor. As you had snatched your hand from the tin, the scissor had probably dragged across your finger, making your injury deeper and longer. You looked at your finger, beads of blood falling from the deep cut and cursed under your breath. Why did you have to be so fucking clumsy?

You looked at the floor and saw the scissor at Daniel’s feet, where he was already picking it up. 

“ Oh god…I’m so sorry” you said and grabbed a tissue to try to dab the blood away. You looked at Daniel through the mirror and saw him looking at you. 

“Are you okay?” he said, and for a second after hearing his voice, you forgot all about your bleeding finger.

Before you could respond, Cassandra interrupted you, “I’m sure she’s fine…right Y/N?”

You nodded clutching your finger and trying not to wince, the pain was slowly increasing.

“Go and get cleaned up Y/N” she said, her face showing sincerity…whether it was real or not you couldn’t tell. 

“Thank you” you were about to leave when you heard Jasmine’s voice, 

“Can I go with her Cassandra?”

“Of course not…who else is supposed to help me if you’re gone too?”

You ignored her response and walked out of the trailer thankful that at least there was one person in there who liked you. 

When you got outside you weren’t surprised to find your vision going slightly hazy. You could watch hours of gory, bloody fights and killing on your TV but the second you saw anyone, (especially yourself) bleeding in real life, your warped brain suddenly decided it was time for you to start fainting. 

You walked to the side of the tall trailer and leaned against the vehicle, taking deep breaths. The metal was still wet from the rain this morning and so was the ground. Your head started throbbing and you hoped with everything that no one would walk out of the trailer and see you. The only people who had seen you before like this were your parents and Talia…it was rare for you to bleed anyways. 

For some reason your vision and head weren’t getting any better. It was probably the lack of sleep or food and water you had had since you had stupidly decided to skip breakfast this morning. You knew you had to sit down so you walked to the edge of the trailer farther from the door and sat on the tarmac. It was wet and you felt the water soak through your jeans. You put your elbows on your bent knees and your throbbing head in your hands. It was only your second week and you were already lightheaded. If only you had been more careful while grabbing the stupid scissor. 

You tried not to look at your finger that was now wrapped in the thin tissue you had hurriedly grabbed. That was probably a bad idea since the rough material would most likely start to stick to the blood. You took a deep breath and glanced at your finger to see the tissue was soaked through..how deadly was that scissor?

You suddenly heart footsteps coming towards you and quickly looked up, scared to see who it was. You breath caught in your throat and you could’ve sworn your heart stopped beating when you saw Daniel’s face come into view. Oh god….out of all the people it had to be him?

“Fuck, are you okay?”, you saw his lips move as he came over to you and knelt down.

“Oh yeah, I’m fine” you said and looked at him. Even in your awful state you noticed the way one strand of his hair fell across his face and how soft his dark blue hoodie looked. 

“Are you sure?”

“Oh yeah…definitely” you lied. To prove yourself right, you swallowed and put your uninjured hand on the ground and stood up. Of course you did it too fast and suddenly your vision went blurry again. You reached out a hand to lean it against the trailer but instead of feeling the cold metal of the vehicle, you felt warm skin. You looked up quickly to find that Daniel had taken your hand in his. Now that you were standing you were even more intimidated by how his tall figure towered above you. For a second that felt like minutes, you stared at both your hands….was he seriously holding yours right now? Maybe it was a sick illusion your brain had conjured up. 

“Oh no you aren’t” he said laughing slightly. He looked at the door of the trailer before gripping your hand tighter with his long fingers, probably afraid that you’d collapse again. Nevermind, it definitely wasn’t an illusion. Your heart beat faster because of the close proximity you two were in. 

“I think you should come with me” he said looking worried.

“What? No, I can’t” you said shaking your head, the concrete dancing underneath your eyes. 

You looked up at him and saw the confused look on his face, your head still throbbing, “Cassandra would kill me”

You saw the glint in his eyes as he grinned slightly, “Cassandra? I’ll deal with her…we need to get some fluid into your body or you could faint”

You knew he was right, you were just scared that if you were alone with him you might just end up fainting anyways. 

“It’s okay…honestly, I can just go get some water myself” you said not wanting to trouble him, he probably had to get back to the trailer anyways. 

“I have water in my trailer, I was on my way there to get my phone anyways”

You smiled through your pain and gave in, “Okay…thank you”

He smiled and started walking towards his trailer. You found yourself gripping his hand tightly, not because you wanted to but because you had to. Your knees felt like they would give away if you didn’t. The fact that it was Daniel Sharman’s hand was just a huge plus. 

Once you finally got to his trailer he stopped by the stairs and gestured for you to go in. You smiled gratefully and stumbled up the stairs into the familiar trailer. Your head was getting better now as Daniel had almost completely distracted you from your cut. 

He came inside behind you but didn’t close the door. 

“You wanna wash that up?” he said looking at the cut and grimacing slightly. He gestured to the door that you had suspected would lead to the bathroom.

You blushed and looked down at it, completely and utterly embarrassed. It was bloody and disgusting. 

You rushed into the bathroom and slowly peeled the tissue away, wincing at the pain. The blood had dried up and pulled at your torn skin. It hurt and tears welled up in the corners of your eyes but you blinked them away quickly. You finally got it off and threw it into the toilet and then flushed it (not wanting to dirty his dustbin). 

You turned the tap on and ran your finger underneath it, closing your eyes in pleasure at the cool stream. 

“Do you need help?” you heard his voice from outside the bathroom.

“No no..I’m alright” you said quickly. He had already wasted so much of his time on you so you tried to hurry up and closed the tap. The bleeding had thankfully almost stopped but the cut was still raw. 

You walked outside and found him bending down looking through a mini fridge. 

“Oh good you’re okay” he said smiling and gesturing to the purple couch, “sit down”

He pulled a bottle of orange juice from the fridge and handed it to you, “Here Y/N”

Your eyes widened when he said your name. 

You grabbed the cold bottle, “You know my name?”. As soon as you realised what you had said in your hazy state you looked down and wanted to slap yourself. Had you really just asked him that?

He laughed showing his teeth and you couldn’t help but smile as well when he sat beside you on the other side of the couch, “Of course I do….Cassandra said it like ten times”

For some reason your heart ached at her mention. 

You suddenly felt a wetness where you were sitting and remembered the ground had been completely wet where you had sat down. You hurriedly got up and looked at the couch which was now also damp where you had been sitting. Fuck, you had lost count of how many times you had embarrassed yourself in front of Daniel just today. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry” you said, and clasped a hand over your mouth

“Oh no, it’s fine” he said sporting a confused expression. 

“It was raining outside” you said hurriedly, not wanting him to think it was some other accident.

He looked at you a soft grin on his face, “I know, don’t worry”, his voice was oddly soothing, calming your nerves almost immediately. 

He walked to a cupboard near the bathroom and pulled out a towel. He placed it on the damp spot.

“There we go” he said smiling. He put his hands on his hips, looking at you and then towards the couch, “you can sit now”

You did but decided you had bothered him enough for one day.

“I should get going now…I’m so sorry for troubling you” you said getting ready to get up. 

“Wait your cut…and drink some before you get up” Daniel said softly, pointing to the bottle in your hand. You opened it and took a sip, you could feel the sweet cold liquid travel down your throat and through your chest. You took another.

“Feels good doesn’t it?’ he said from his position on the counter. From what could you see, he was rummaging through his wallet. He pulled out a large bandage and came over to you.

“Here…it won’t do much but it’ll keep the cut covered until you can get it wrapped by the medic inside the studio” he quipped handing it to you. 

“Thank you so much…seriously” 

“Do you need help putting it on?” he said grabbing his phone and putting it into his back pocket. 

“Oh no, I’ll manage….I’m sorry again”

“I have to go now but you stay here as long as you like, okay?” he said. 

“Thanks” you said smiling, who knew he would be so nice?

“Oh and do me one favour” he said grinning, as he was making his way out the door.

“Anything” you replied, curious to hear what he had in mind.

“Stop apologising” he laughed, before leaving the trailer. 

You smiled widely to yourself. 

Had this all really just happened? Seeing Daniel was insane in itself but actually interacting with him? You honestly still didn’t understand how you got a word out of your mouth. He seemed intimidating, but when he spoke to you, his voice was soothing and you felt like you could’ve talked to him forever. You looked down in awe at the hand he had held. You knew you were acting like a crazy fangirl, but you couldn’t surpress your emotions all the time. 

You snapped back to reality when you felt your cut suddenly sting. He had said there was a medic inside the studio. You got up quickly, Cassandra was probably wondering where you were and you had to get your finger wrapped first. 

8:12 am

You took a deep breath as you walked up the stairs of the make up trailer to Cassandra, Jasmine, and Daniel. You hoped that Cassandra wouldn’t be mad at you for taking so long. You hadn’t realised how bad the cut actually was until you took it to the on set medic and he wrapped your fingers in who knows how many layers of gauze. 

Your heartbeat accelerated as you opened the door slowly. You thankfully calmed down when you saw that everyone was loud and bustling around, no one had even noticed you had entered. You walked over to Daniel’s chair, where Jasmine was looking closely at the mirror. As you got closer you saw that there were multiple pictures of the weeping monk stuck into the frame of the mirror. She whipped her head around when she saw you in the mirror. 

“Y/N!” A worried expression adorned her face, “are you okay?”

“Oh yeah I’m fine…It looks worse than it really is” you said waving your finger in the air to show her. 

“Are you sure? Are you okay to help us?”

“Oh yeah definitely” you said scoffing, “It’s nothing”

She smiled, “Okay good”

You looked in the mirror at Daniel. He was looking at you, a knowing smile on his face. You looked away. You still couldn’t believe that he had seen you in such a flustered and sick state. It had been exciting when he had helped you but now you realised that he probably thought you were some kind off freak, going berserk over such a small amount of blood. 

All of a sudden feelings of sadness, anger and embarrassment flooded over you. Sadness because this was essentially the first impression that Daniel had of you, and anger directed towards yourself for freaking out like you did.

[coneygoil]

Walking Wounded, part 3

Caryl AU. The waitress at a diner Daryl decides to start frequenting catches his eye, but things are complicated. Now, Daryl is the only thing standing between her and her abusive husband.

Part 1 | Part 2

A pot of grits and some links of deer sausage awaited Carol and her daughter as they emerged from the bedroom the next morning. Daryl gestured to the small, round kitchen table for them to sit and he served them breakfast. Carol sat planted there, wringing her hands in her lap and not knowing how to act. She’d never – not once – had been served breakfast by Ed. Not even on Mother’s Day or her birthday. It felt all kinds of wrong to be the one being served, and she almost couldn’t bare to watch.

“Ran out for a little while to pick up some milk from the Dollar General,” he told her as he pulled out the mix-matched chair across from her. “And some other things you and Sophia may need.” He gestured to the yellow bags on the kitchen counter. “Damn DGs are everywhere these days. Surprised there ain’t one in every yard.”

“Thank you,” Carol gazed at the food like she didn’t know what to do with it, “You didn’t have to. I mean, I don’t have any money to pay you back. Ed never lets me—”

Daryl held up a hand to stop her. “Don’t worry about it. I got enough cash squirreled away to spare some. You and your little girl need things and I’m gonna make sure you have them.”

Daryl switched his attention to Sophia sitting next to him. She hadn’t uttered a word in his presence. Not at the diner nor this morning. She watched him cautiously when he wasn’t looking, but as soon as Daryl turned his attention to her, she’d stiffen and avert her eyes to whatever was below her. Even at 5 years old, she’d learned to not make eye contact with her father, and in doing so, learned to not make contact with any man either. Ed would take it the wrong way – like he thought she was ignoring him -- and whip his belt out. Said she had to learn early how to act properly. All it was doing was training her to be a good whipping post for a man just like her daddy.

“How you this morning, Sophia?” Daryl tried. He was just as gentle with her as he was with Carol. “You sleep good?” When she didn’t respond or look at him, he nodded his head. “It’s okay if you don’t wanna talk. I ain’t gonna make you.” He pointed to the deer sausage on her plate. “You need to eat. That some good deer. I shot it a couple weeks back. Helps keep my belly full every morning.”

“You said your brother lives here too?” Carol asked. Daryl hummed in reply as he chewed up a piece of sausage. “What’s his name? I can’t remember it.”

“Merle,” Daryl sat back, hoping his brother’s sabbatical would be longer than usual. Merle was going to give him hell for bringing a married woman and her kid into their Dixon boys’ abode. “He’s my older brother. 8 years older. We’ve lived on and off with each other our whole lives. He’s really all I got.”

“He won’t mind us being here?” Carol’s concern was written all over her face. She’d met Merle three or four times, but judging by how he talked, Merle didn’t seem like the most pleasant person to be around.

“Whether he minds or not, he’s not gonna have a say. He’s the one always gone off doing his own thing while I’m here. I think I have more a say so than him. You and your little girl need a place to stay more than he does anyways.”

Carol bristled. “I don’t want to cause trouble.”

“You’re not. Don’t think you are.”

All the reassurance Daryl had given her in the last several hours hadn’t soaked in. Carol had been conditioned to think herself a burden and his words weren’t penetrating that steel wall. She still felt like bolting right out the door.

Sophia had finally begun to move in her spot. She sipped at her glass of milk before taking a merger spoonful of grits. Carol worried most for her daughter. The child had witnessed more violence in her short 5 years than one person did in a lifetime. Their sudden departure was only going to fuel Ed’s anger like gasoline on fire. How would they survive this?

***

After breakfast, Daryl drove them to pick up Carol’s car to bring back to the trailer. Carol was close to spilling tears when she heard her car had been towed away by Ed. He was a lazy son of gun, but when it came to spite, he had all the energy in the world. The loss of Carol’s car was a huge blow. As they made their way back to the trailer, Daryl could tell she was trying to hold back tears as she squashed Sophia to her side.

She didn’t have a vehicle. Not even a car seat for Sophia. No clothes. Possessions. Money. Nothing. It visibly crushed her like a 1000-pound weight.

When they arrived back at the trailer, Daryl quietly asked Carol to talk with him in the bedroom while Sophia watched tv in the living room. Sophia’s eyes widen as big as saucers in alarm, but Carol assured her that Daryl wasn’t like her daddy. Mommy is safe with him. Daryl had to take a deep breath at the very thought that this poor girl had to be told that.

Carol followed him into his bedroom after getting Sophia settled. Her skittishness had come back tenfold as he shut the door behind them.

“Have you thought about going to a women’s shelter?” Daryl regretted the question the moment the words tumbled from his mouth.

A deep frown line creased Carol’s brow. “I did. Several months back. They couldn’t do much more than give me housing. A few necessary items. Ed found us.” Her voice cracked, and Daryl could see a slew of memories playing out behind her eyes. “He caught us on the street. He brought us back home. He did this to me.” Carol pulled up her sleeve to reveal a burn mark just below the back of her left shoulder. “Made me swear I’d never leave like that again. I was his and had no right to go. I swore, because if I didn’t, I knew he would go after Sophia. He never threatened to, but I knew he would.”

Daryl’s chest tightened like a bow sting with every new horrifying reality that she shared. Behind his own eyes, memories of childhood played out. He shook himself free before he could dive too deep within them. This wasn’t about his past life. This was about the gentle, soft-spoken woman standing in front of him that didn’t have a damn person on her side in the entire world.

If he thought about it – really made himself think – he didn’t have anyone either. Merle was all he had, and Daryl didn’t even have him more than half the time. Carol and her daughter needed somebody on their side. Who the hell cared if he would make it his mission to save her? Maybe in the process, she’d somehow save him too. But, that wasn’t anything to think about right now. She was still married to a bastard that needed to be eliminated from her life.

“Then, it’s settled.” Daryl nodded his point. “You and Sophia are staying here.”

“Daryl—” she wanted to protest again. Claim she was a burden. He didn’t want to hear that bull from her.

“You’re staying and I’m gonna take care of you.”

Crossing arms across her chest like a shield, Carol could only nod in agreement. Daryl’s fight depleted somewhat at the sight of her, realizing what he may sound like to her, no matter how softly he spoke his words.

“But,” he feared for what his next statement would bring, “if you want to go, you can go. Not gonna keep you here.” Daryl’s eyes fixed upon hers. He shook his head. “Not like him.”

Carol offered him a small but genuine smile. “I know.”

***

There was a war raging in Carol’s head. Part of it was trying desperately to convince her to return to Ed. She’d take the beating he’d dish out. She’d end up with a busted face and a broken bone or two. Maybe another burn mark to decorate her shoulder. She’d promise to never leave him again. She’d sob and paw at his legs like the pathetic creature he claimed she was. If she begged enough, threw herself at his mercy, maybe he wouldn’t lay a hand on Sophia.

The other part of her was screaming to keep as far away as possible. Daryl was only a customer at a greasy spoon of a diner she worked at. To most, he was plainly a redneck with not much education behind him. Carol saw that he was remarkably so much more than his outward appearance. Every visit to the diner, he’d treated her with the utmost respect and kindness. He proved to her that there were good men out there. She craved more of that goodness.

When he told Carol she could go if she wanted to – back to Ed in her mind-- she fought with the overwhelming need of what she’d been conditioned to do for the last 10 years of her life. She kept her gaze steady on Daryl, fought the secret battle, and won. She would stay with him. She would accept the protection of his wings and care that he generously gave.

They spent most of the day in the trailer. Sophia seemed content to watch tv and color in her coloring book when she was tired of the screen. Carol couldn’t sit still for long. She felt awkward cleaning up another person’s home, but she had to do something to keep her hands busy and her mind off things. While Daryl was out on the small front porch smoking, she dove into cleaning the kitchen. She paused when he walked back in and questioned silently if it was okay when she made eye contact with him. Daryl shrugged a shoulder giving the okay and sat down at the kitchen table.

“I don’t think it’d be smart to stop by your old man’s house for your things right now,” Daryl voiced his concern.

Carol felt absolutely gross in the clothes she’d worn for 24 hours. She needed a good showering and fresh clothing. Thankfully, she had been able to wipe off the night before. Sophia needed to be clean as well. The girl would develop a yeast infection if she didn’t change her underwear soon.

“We can go to the thrift store up on Pearl St. Been there before. They got decent stuff. Nothin’ stained or torn. Stop by the DG on the way back. Get you and Sophia some underclothes.”

Carol paused from wiping the counter. She’d already scrubbed the stove, wiped down the outside of the refrigerator, and washed and tucked away the dishes and pots from breakfast and lunch. Daryl hadn’t commented about her tidying up his home. She had his unspoken blessing to do what she wanted to do, she guessed.

“Daryl—” She had to question it again. She had to hear his explanation once more to convince her. “Why are you doing this for us? Why do you care so much? I mean, you don’t even know me.”

Daryl fixed her with his narrow gaze. “I know you’re someone that needs help. Let me ask you this, Carol—”

A flutter climbed in her chest at the sound of her name across his lips.

“Has anybody helped you before? Has anybody bothered to ask you if you were okay when there was a shiner blinding like the sun on your face?”

She averted her eyes to the floor and swallowed before answering. “No.”

He pushed off the chair and stepped up to her. “That’s why I’m helping you.” He swallowed loudly, running a hand over the stubble on his chin. “That’s why I care. It’s up to you what you do with it. Take it or leave it.”

Carol mulled over his words. It was nearly impossible to believe someone could possibly care for her. She had to chip away the wall Ed erected so strongly inside her head. She had to start today if her and Sophia were to ever have a future. She drew in a deep breath and laid the dishrag over the sink to dry, hoping her words would be answer enough. “Whenever you’re ready to go to the thrift store.”

[haddonfieldproject]

<<PREVIOUS⏺<<CONTENTS>>

1.2.23 HALLOWEEN NIGHT/NOVEMBER 1ST 5:51 AM

Warren County, Illinois

Diego stopped walking and hit the little light on the side of his watch and looked at it. ‪5:51.‬

When will this stupid rain stop? He thought, beginning to walk again.

He hated this part of the walk. The trailer park he lived in with his mom was out in the middle of nowhere, and this time of year, when it was still dark in the early mornings, you couldn't see anything out here. Leighton dropped him off most nights, but he didn't have the heart to have her come pick him up this early. I don’t think we’ve reached that phase of our relationship yet, he smiled to himself.

It's cool, he thought, only three more paychecks and then I can put a down payment on a new ride.

🎃

Gabriel Couture had been dozing. He would never have admitted it to anyone, certainly not his wife and definitely not any other trucker, even though every single one of them had at one time or another caught themselves starting to doze on a long haul. Just like any other time, you only knew you were dozing when you woke up and things were different than when they were just a moment ago.

His favorite program on the radio had just ended and the station was now airing the morning news. A man had been on there talking about some serial killers from Mississippi when all of a sudden he had heard an electronic beeping noise, and now there was a girl on the radio talking about where to go to get the best “tropical tan and bikini wax”.

That means it had been at least thirty seconds that Gabriel had been drowsing behind the wheel.

Very scary, he thought.

He thought of that video in trucking school they had shown him about the distance the truck traveled when you merely took your eyes off the road long enough to shoot a glance at the Qualcomm screen. It was like two football fields or something like that.

The Qualcomm had been the thing responsible for the electronic beeping. A robotic woman's voice came through the speakers, temporarily cutting out the commercial audio on the radio:

“You have....thirty...minutes...left in your legal time to drive. Please make arrangements to pull over.”

Good thing I only got about fifteen minutes left, Gabriel thought and picked up the can of Monster Energy drink that sat in his cup holder. He shook it, hearing a few drops of liquid at the bottom of the can, he put it to his mouth and stuck his tongue out to catch the last precious bit.

It was warm and tasted like piss.

🔪

“Why do you have to live so far out in the middle of fucking nowhere!?” Kyndra groaned, checking her phone for the time.

Brad wasn't listening, he was wiping the inside of the windshield with a Liberty Burger wrapper he had found in the center console of the Mustang. “God damn I can't see shit!” He hissed.

“Well, you're the one who wanted to smoke a damn bowl in the car,” Zoey said, “It's raining like crazy and we couldn't open the window to let the smoke out, what did you think was going to happen?”

“I didn't think it would fog up like this,” Brad said, turning the control on the dash from hot to cold.

“Stop playing with that and watch the road,” Kyndra snapped.

“I'm trying to defrost the window!” He roared back.

“Well it doesn't matter if it's hot or cold air, it's still gonna clear the window,”

“That's not true, it needs hot air!” Brad yelled.

“It's fucking roasting in here,” Kyndra turned the dial back to cold.

“I'm pretty sure you need cold air to clear the window,” Zoey said.

The mustang hydroplaned and this time it seemed like Brad barely caught hold of it. Zoey fell to the side on the backseat and the pipe rolled off her lap and hit the floorboards with a clang. Kyndra screamed.

“My pipe!” Bellowed Brad.

“I got it...” Zoey's muffled voice came from the back.

“Watch the fucking road!” Kyndra yelled. She wiped the windshield with the arm of the sweatshirt Brad had let her borrow.

🎃

Gabriel stretched his neck and caught the sight of the headlights out of his passenger mirror. His first thought was that it had to be a cop by the way they were moving. He had seen plenty of cops on the road that night, most in a big hurry, most with their lights on, and most had passed him. He took his foot off the gas and prepared to be passed by this one now, only it came right up on him and paused.

He could see from the lights it wasn't a cop. It was a sports car of some sort...looked kind of old. It eased closer until it was directly behind his trailer and out of sight from his mirrors. The only thing that made his presence known was the halo of light that now shone in both mirrors emanating from either side of his cab.

Gabe blinked a few times to try and perk up a little.

Stupid tailgaters, he thought.

🔪

Zoey popped up from the backseat. “Got it,” she held up the pipe. “It had rolled under the....shit watch out!”

“I know..I know” Brad said, easing off the gas, his foot turned slightly to the left to cover the brake, but even he knew better than to mash it hard in the rain.

Kyndra put her hand up on the ceiling of the Mustang as the trailer of a semi-truck emerged from the veil of rain to dominate the view beyond their slowly un-fogging windshield.

“I got double lines,” Brad murmured, “When I get the dotted line I'll pass him.”

Kyndra looked at him like he had three eyes, “What? You're not going to fuckin' pass him now! Not in this rain.”

“You said we needed to hurry!” Brad snarled.

“We're already late,” Zoey said, “No reason to kill us.”

“God I fucking hate semitrucks!” Brad moaned.

🎃

“Jeez Lloyd! I can't barely see a dang thing!” Lee whined, he was elbows up on the steering wheel, looking so far ahead through the rain drops, his forehead was nearly touching the glass of the windshield.

Lloyd sat on the passenger seat next to him, calmly counting the cash he had pulled in fistfuls from Raj Gudipati's cash register.

“I know brother,” he said calmly, not looking up, “I've been driving in the shit all night.”

“It looks like it's raining even harder now!” Lee said.

Lloyd ignored him. “Jesus fuck!” he moaned, tossing the cash into the glove compartment. “Seventy eight dollars and sixty four cents! That's all that Indian fucker had on him in the whole register.”

“He probably has to do cash drops every hour like we had to at the restaurant.” Lee said.

“No shit,” Lloyd said, picking up the pack of Marlboros in the center console, pulling one out, and lighting it. “Whole world's going to be computerized before you know it. Computers gonna tell us when to eat, when to shit, when to fuck...you watch!”

Lee goofy-laughed, “I saw a show on TV that said it was a sign of the apocalypse.”

“Damn right,” Lloyd said, taking a drag. He cracked his window a bit to blow the smoke out. The whooshing sound of rain filled the cab, drowning out the music. Some water dripped on his right shoulder so he scooted closer to his brother. “We are in the last days little brother.”

“Amen to that.” Lee replied.

Lloyd turned up the radio to block out the rain.

🔪

I wish he'd just pass me, Gabriel thought.

He knew the person behind him wouldn't because of the double lines, but he didn't care. Nothing made a trucker nervous like some jackass so far up his rear he couldn't see him in the mirrors.

Maybe if I slow down a little, he'll get tired and just go around me. He thought and backed off the gas.

🎃

“God what the fuck!” Brad moaned and slightly leaned on the brake.

“Chill out Brad, it's okay.” Zoey said calmly from the back. She had extended her hand and Kyndra was now holding it.

“What the fuck is he slowing down for?”

“Who cares Brad, just chill, we're turning off up here anyway.” Kyndra said. She closed her eyes, she didn't want to watch anymore.

“We haven't even reached the Superfuel yet!”

Zoey and Brad made eye contact in the rear-view mirror. “Stop,” she mouthed.

Brad took a deep breath and sighed.

🔪

“That's right,” Gabriel chuckled to himself. “Take a little bit of that.”

His speedometer fell from 45 to 30. Any slower and he was going to have to downshift. The headlights behind him peaked out the passenger side and then the driver's side mirror. He was poking out for a peak around him.

He's gonna pass any second. Gabriel thought.

The lights peaked again.

“Awww...you're a Mustang,” Gabriel saw. Probably '77 '78...looked orange, but it was hard to tell in the dark and rain. Could have been red.

Whatever, Gabriel thought, Ford's suck...now just pass me.

Headlights coming toward them caught his eyes. His foot moved to cover the brake.

🎃

Lights seemed to appear all around Diego at once—as if a UFO was landing on top of his head. Diego looked behind him and saw the headlights of a truck coming. He knew in almost a second it was the truck that had pulled in to the Superfuel Deluxe as he had been leaving. He remembered the bluish tint to the headlights. In front of him, coming up the hill were the lights of a tractor-trailer. Diego side stepped off the pavement and into the grass. His shoe sank down into a deep dark puddle with a splash and he felt his shoe fill with water.

Awww man, he thought.

🔪

“I can't take it anymore!” Brad roared and stomped the gas, cutting the steering wheel to the left.

“No Brad!” Zoey roared. Kyndra felt Zoey's hand clench hers and she opened her eyes.

🎃

Lee and Lloyd had seen the truck, and had really thought nothing of it, even though they probably should have. Most every trucker in the area had heard their truck's description by now on their CB Radio and was on the lookout for them.

Lee was just trying to concentrate on keeping in his own lane as the big rig passed, and Lloyd was leaning forward to ash his cigarette when the two headlights of an orange 1978 mint condition Ford Mustang darted out in front of them from behind the trailer.

The truck and the mustang hit each other head on without even braking. Ordinarily a truck that size would have split open a sports-car like a can of tuna-fish, but the Mustang was old, with a big hood and a strong chassis. Instead, the front of the mustang sort of slid underneath the truck, the bumper of which crunched down on top of the windshield. Brad had been leaning forward to be able to see and the steal bumper of Booger's truck exploded his head like a watermelon. Kyndra's legs were cut off at the thighs as the weight of the truck sliced down into the cab like one of those knives in that infomercial Brad was sleeping through only hours before. The top half of Kyndra's body lifted, hit the roof, flipped over her headrest, and fell into the backseat.

Zoey had taken off her seat-belt earlier to find the pipe. Her body flew forward as if shot out of a cannon, crashing through the windshield which diced her up like a wood-chipper, seconds before the weight of the truck pulverized every bone she had in her body above the waist. She had instinctively raised her arm at the last moment to cover her face and her left hand was torn from her body and plopped on the floor in front of the passenger seat, right between her girlfriend's feet.

Neither Lloyd or Lee Chumway had been wearing their seat-belts. Lloyd had been leaning forward, ashing his cigarette, so he had catapulted forward immediately, exiting through the windshield at the same moment the airbag deployed. The airbag caught him at ‪the shins‬ and merely slowed his launch, causing him to bounce off the back windshield of the Mustang, his body rolling about forty yards across the highway, before coming to a rest in the center of the road atop the double yellow lines. Lee's body had shot forward but the airbag deployed, shoving him back into the seat. Unfortunately for him, the force of the collision forced his head to snap back, causing a basalar skull fracture in the back of his head and neck. He slumped over against the driver's side window as blood began to pour from his nose, ears, and eyes.

🔪

The collision occurred directly outside the driver's side door of Gabriel's truck and he instinctively jerked his steering wheel to the right and slammed down on the brake. His tractor wheels locked up, the pilot tire on the passenger side struck a muddy rut on the shoulder of the road. This broke the front axle of the tractor immediately. The trailer did not respond to the sudden drop in speed very well, this on top of the fact that he was running empty...and therefore light.

The trailer hitch compressed into the fifth wheel, the back six wheels came off the ground about eight inches and then bounced like basketballs for nearly six feet before beginning a tilt and skid to the left. This caused enough torque to pull the trailer on it's side, taking the cab with it. Gabriel was pulled over, his head smacked his driver's side window, knocking him unconscious immediately, and shattering his left shoulder and arm.

🎃

Diego didn't have time to react as the trailer slid toward him. He dove to the left, but the roof of the trailer caught him while he was airborne, smacking him like a tennis racket hits a tennis ball. Diego was thrown into the trees, striking a sycamore upside-down about three feet off the ground. He bounced off the massive trunk and landed face down about four feet in front of the tree line in a large patch of standing water. His heart stopped as soon as he had hit the tree and he was dead before he even hit the puddle.

The trailer continued to drag across the road and unto the shoulder, slicing a mile marker sign in two, the jagged stump of the stake that held it into the ground lacerated the fuel tank of the tractor as it followed it's own trailer's skid through the muddy grass. The soft earth broke the truck's speed, bringing it to a stop about ten feet away from Diego's head. Diesel fuel mixed with oil and gasoline from Booger McFarlane's truck and Brad Doyle's mustang ran across the road like a river and pooled around Diego's body which had created a depression in the earth.

Brad Doyle's lighter, with the skulls on it, was perched precariously in his lap, and had amazingly remained that way throughout the entire accident. As a result of basically losing his own head and brain however, his right leg went into a short, but violent spasm about five minutes after the accident, thrusting into the gas pedal, releasing more fuel into the road in a gush. The lighter fell from his lap, slicing through a gash in the floorboards that had opened up when the front end structure of the vehicle had been partially torn from the frame. The lighter struck the asphault below and aresulting spark ignited the trail of fuel underneath the Mustang. A snake of fire raced across the surface of the highway and exploded Diego's body into flames.

This burned only mere moments however, the fire was promptly extinguished by the extreme deluge of rain that continued to pound down on central Illinois. The vehicles had not had time to catch, and soon, everything was silent and still..except for the sounds of the storm.

NEXT>>

[anxiouslymalicious]

Beat You To It

Pairing: Ben Hardy x (fem) Reader

Summary: Periods are usually full of ups and downs, a bumpy ride, especially emotionally. This time, however, your emotions are all over the place as you just started taking the pill. But nothing could prepare you for the emotional roller coaster ride that ensues, especially as Ben comes home earlier from filming abroad.

Word Count: 2631 (oops?)

Warnings: none I think? Unless you count bad writing and talks about periods as one?

A/N: This is my first time writing something and actually publishing it. I hope you enjoy it!

It was a quiet Saturday night. You and Frankie were alone in the flat you and Ben moved into almost a year ago and although Frankie was a sweet pup, you still felt terribly lonely. The reason was simple.

Hormones. Birth control pills, to be exact.

The two of you had been talking about you going on birth control one quiet night when you were cuddled up on the sofa, a trashy tv show playing on the tv. You had been having troubles with your period for quite some time now and your doctor suggested using birth control to get it back on track. It wasn’t serious so you didn’t think about it too much. Ben then joked that he would be able to find out what sex without a condom feels like, but it might have been the light buzz of the wine you had opened during dinner. Neither of you mentioned it again, but the thought never left your mind. So, as soon as Ben told you when he would be leaving for filming, you made an appointment with your gyn and asked for a prescription of the pill, which you had promptly received.

Now, it was about 3 weeks later and you were on your first period while being on the pill and it was… Something.

Obviously, you and your doctor talked about the side effects of the pill and she told you about what to expect during the first three months, but you did not expect for the side effects to hit you nearly as hard as they did.

Besides light nausea shortly after taking the pill the first few days, you thought that the little hormone pills were treating you good. Until your first period arrived.

One advantage of taking birth control pills was that your cramps would be less intense and your periods in general would be easier on you. Or at least that’s what everyone told you. What they forgot to mention, though, was that the first period on the pill might not be that easy on you.

And so, you were drowning in self-pity.

Your period had started a day late, it was a Friday morning and you awoke with pain in your abdomen. Groaning, you turned around, trying to reach for Ben, but your hand only managed to find Frankie, curled up into a tiny ball of fur, laying on Ben’s side of the bed. A sigh escaped your lips as you remembered that he was still filming and only supposed to come back next week. No matter how often he left, your mind never ceased to forget that he wasn’t there when you woke up.

Tears welled up in your eyes. How badly you needed him at this moment to just hold you. Maybe make you breakfast in bed. And give you back rubs. And treat you like a queen. Just for today.

Nonetheless, you pushed through the day. Although your emotions were all over the place (you had yelled at three people, cried as you found out that you ran out of your favourite cereal, laughed your arse off at Frankie trying to catch her own tail and all of that even before leaving for work), the cramps were intense and your head felt as though a truck ran over it, you got through the whole work day. You couldn’t have been happier when you came home, greeted by Frankie’s happy barking and the warmth of your flat.

The rest of your day, you had spent on the couch in the living room, eating pizza, watching whatever was on tv whenever your pain killers didn’t knock you out and Ben even called sometime during the evening.

Ben always called you when he was gone. It was only on very rare occasions that he didn’t manage to call you and talk with you sometime during the day and even on those days, he recorded a voice message before passing out on his bed and making up for the missed call as soon as possible.

Your phone calls with Ben were almost therapeutic. Both of you managed to talk about anything that was bothering you. Whether it was your annoying colleagues, a scene that worried him, or just talking about the dreams you two had and trying to make up the funniest meanings. One time, you two managed to talk about how your dream about stargazing meant that you possessed the ability to live in space and were actually born as a product of a star dying, but you couldn’t go back because you needed the doctor to help you and so you needed to wait for him and his Tardis to appear.

This time, it was just him being overly excited about how well everything was going and how awesome everyone on set was. You really wanted to tell him how bad you felt, but that would also ruin the surprise of telling him that you guys wouldn’t need a condom the next time you two were in the heat of the moment.

And now, it was Saturday night. You had barely moved from your seat on the couch unless you really had to, like when you had to go on a walk with Frankie, go to the bathroom yourself or get open the door for the delivery person bringing yet another order of yours. Last night, you had seen a tv trailer for Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince and you couldn’t stop a few stray tears from falling as you stared into Dumbledore’s sickly pale face. You already knew back then that you would regret watching that movie. But you did it anyway.

You couldn’t stop the tears from falling, not even if you tried, as you watched the heart-breaking scenes take place.

As you were so busy wailing like a baby, wrapped up in your favourite blanket with an empty cup of tea on the coffee table and empty take out boxes and chocolate wrappers splayed out all over the coffee table, you did not notice Frankie jumping up with curiosity at something she heard.

You also didn’t hear the jingling of the keys in the lock of your flat.

Or the sound of a bag dropping in the living room.

Not even the sound of an incredibly deep laughter managed to pull you out of your trance.

You flinched as you felt a hand on your shoulder, the sudden touch scaring you, and a shrill scream escaped your lips. In a moment of fear, your body involuntarily tried to move to the other end of the couch, your abdomen cramping up at the unexpected movement. You whimpered softly at the pain, wrapping your arms around yourself in an effort to ease the pain at least a bit.

“Hey, princess, it’s me, calm down.”, Ben almost laughed at your reaction. Until he noticed your dishevelled appearance.

Your hair was all over the place, your eyes bloodshot from the little amount of sleep you caught the previous night and the many crying sessions you had over the past 48 hours. Your cheeks were puffy and flushed and tear streaks stained your skin. Chocolate was smeared in the corner of your lips.

You were wearing one of Ben’s old sweatshirts which he should have gotten rid off ages ago, but you always saved it from its doom in the trash by saying that it was far too comfortable to throw it away.

Pants had long been abandoned, or at least Ben assumed so as he saw one of your bare legs sticking out from under the blanket that he knew you only pulled out if you were in need of comfort.

“Y/N, what happened? Are you okay?”, Ben was now worried. He had never seen you like this before. He was now kneeling on the floor in front of the couch, grasping your hands. This only caused more tears to fall. You had officially ruined the surprise. Ben wasn’t supposed to be home yet. He was scheduled to come next week, when your period was over and you were feeling great.

But there he was, seated in front of you, his green eyes staring right into your own (y/e/c) orbs, trying to put together the pieces, but failing.

Frankie had now joined you, laying her head comfortingly in your lap, almost like she was trying to encourage you to tell him what was going on. And you tried.

But all you managed to get out was a weird brabbled speech.

“He-he- Dumbledore, he died and I cried, but you weren’t supposed to find out until Thursday, when you came back and you were not supposed to be here yet. But now he died and you’re here but you shouldn’t be. And Frankie was supposed to help and- and I didn’t want to watch it, but it just kind of happened because I cannot resist Harry Potter and you know that.”, you didn’t make sense. Not to Ben, not to yourself.

“Y/N, are you drunk, love?” Ben was now trying not to burst out laughing, gently placing his hands on your cheeks and wiping the fresh tears away from your cheeks.

“No, I’m not, I haven’t had a sip of alcohol in months! Oh wait, that’s a lie. I’m lying to you and myself. It was just last week. I’m not an alcoholic, though, I swear.”, you sobbed, defending yourself.

“Then what’s going on, love?” soft giggles emerged from Ben’s lips as he watched you. He really didn’t want to, but watching you was more than just hilarious.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes for a moment. A new wave of tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him.

“I started taking birth control pills, but didn’t tell you because I wanted to surprise you. And now I’m on my period and you’re home early and ruined the surprise. I had it all planned out! Wanted to cook for you, wear something sexy, seduce you and tell you that you wouldn’t need a condom, but now you’re here and caught me crying over a movie I have seen a few hundred times already.” You were watching Ben’s face closely, awaiting some kind of negative reaction.

“Oh, love, really? You put yourself through all this stress for me?”, Ben was amazed. You nodded silently, afraid that if you opened your mouth, you would only keep on sobbing.

Ben now moved onto the couch, pulling you into him and wrapping his arms tightly around you.

“I love you, Y/N. I really do. Thank you so much.”, whispered Ben as he ran his hand through your hair, trying to calm you. Nothing but love and adoration were in his voice, and the moment would have been perfect, if it wasn’t for Frankie suddenly barking. Neither of you had noticed that you were almost crushing the little dog in between your bodies as you hugged and were now feeling unbelievably sorry.

“Tell you what, love. I’ll clean up a bit while you move to the bedroom and then we’ll cuddle and I’ll rub your belly. How does that sound?”, asked Ben, softly kissing your temple as he wiped away the last stray tears on your cheeks.

“Sounds perfect. Marry me please?”, you asked, only half joking. Ben chuckled as he got up and placed a kiss onto your lips, then wiped at the corner to wipe away the chocolate that was still smeared there. A light giggle left your lips as you watched your beloved boyfriend disappear in the hallway, probably to grab a bin or something to get rid off the trash. You followed him shortly after, your blanket wrapped around you, walking on shaky legs into the bedroom and dropping your tired body on the bed.

Just as you were about to doze off, you heard the sound of Frankie’s paws hitting the floor before she tried to jump onto the bed. A soft smile grew on your lips as you moved to look at her, gently petting her.

“Thank you so much for sneaking into my flat a few years back, you little rascal. Without you I may have never met your hooman and we wouldn’t be right here right now. My life wouldn’t be the same without you two.”, you whispered lovingly to her.

“Our lives wouldn’t be the same without you either, Y/N.”, mumbled Ben from the doorway of the room. He had a glass of water in one hand, a heating pad in the other. He gave you a soft smile, that one special smile that only you got to see. It was so soft, barely noticeable at times, yet so full of love and adoration. You couldn’t help but fall in love with him a little more whenever he smiled that special smile.

He set the glass on the nightstand, then opened his fist to drop a pain killer next to it. “Just in case you need one. Don’t feel like getting up again.”, Ben explained in a mumble. You nodded.

He then changed into his pyjamas before he lay next to you, moving as close as possible. Grabbing the heating pad, he turned it on and gently placed it on your tummy as you lay with your head on his chest. His heartbeat was calming to you. You knew that he was alright and safe, right there next to you.

“Hey, love?” Ben’s voice was soft.

“Yes, love?”, you asked in reply, looking up at him. You hadn’t felt this content in a while, not since Ben left for filming, and you didn’t want for that moment to end. Ben was grinning at you now, like he knew something that you didn’t.

“I never answered your question.”

“What question?” You were confused.

“The one about marrying you.”

“Oh.” Your heart skipped a beat in fear. Was that too much? Could you blame it on the hormones?

Ben’s hand was in a fist, only using two fingers to lift your hand lightly as his other hand was running through your hair.

“Guess you kind of beat me to the question. But I beat you to the ring.”, he whispered, looking at you intently as his hand opened and laid the ring in your hand. You looked at him like you couldn’t believe what was happening. By all means, you couldn’t.

“Well, what do you say, love?”, you asked as yet another wave of tears welled up in your eyes.

“I say ‘let’s put a ring on it’.”, he grinned, carefully slipping the simple gold band onto your ring finger. Neither of you could stop yourself from smiling as you moved to press a lingering kiss to his lips, your fingers finding his cheek and gently tracing it.

“I love you with all my heart, Ben.”, you whispered as you parted from the kiss.

“I love you with all my soul, Y/N.”, he whispered back.

“Today was such an emotional roller coaster ride. Let’s go to sleep and celebrate tomorrow.”, you whispered, pressing another kiss to his cheek. With a sigh, you got up to go to the bathroom one last time before going to bed.

Needless to say, that your phone was blowing up with messages from Joe when you came back.

‘Y/N Y/L/N, how DARE you steal MY MAN?!’

‘Cardy B and I are very disappointed.’

‘And you didn’t even ask for our blessing!’

“Sorry, princess. I couldn’t help myself and just had to tell someone.”, Ben grinned at you like a four-year-old who had just stolen some sweets. You playfully rolled your eyes at him, moved to lie down on the bed and plugged in your phone before typing one single message to Joe.

‘Guess I beat you to it.’

 A/N2: This was based on my actual experience as I was put on the pill for troubles with my period, except I am as single as I could possibly be and was sending my friends some of the things you can read here as hilarious voice messages. They had the time of their lives, I think?

[vernonfielding]

They say it’s lonely at the top

What’s that? We don’t have a trailer from NBC yet? Maybe you want to read some weird Jorm-POV B99 fanfic instead?? (ie Here is story No. 9 of my Season 7 Countdown Project!)

Summary: “Hey, everyone, just want to introduce you to our new assistant manager, Larry Sherbet.”

Taylor, manager of the Fun Zone, needs to hire a new assistant – but does he go with the known stoner or the new guy with the unbelievable resume? Takes place during Coral Palms Part 1. (Read on AO3.)

Taylor’s plucking disgustedly at the front of his shirt, muttering to himself about what jerks pre-schoolers can be, as he ducks into his office and closes the door behind him. The purple slushee is sticky and icy cold through the thin blue polo, and he quickly shucks his shirt and trashes it – he knows from experience that it’s already ruined. Fun Zone slushees eat right through the polyester blend.

He pulls the tub of disinfectant wipes out of the bottom drawer of his file cabinet and starts to clean himself up. It’s barely 11, they’ve only been open an hour, and already he’s fielded complaints about: gum in the ball pit; a feral possum growling at players on the eighth hole; the French fries tasting suspiciously like weed; and a child using toilet water to wash his hands in the restroom because the sink that Greg recommended they install is broken again (probably because someone shoved a hot dog down the drain yesterday).

It’s too much for one man, Taylor thinks to himself, as he tosses the wad of used wipes into the trash, on top of his shirt. He needs an assistant.

Taylor grabs a new polo out of the top drawer of his file cabinet and tugs it over his head as he drops into his desk chair, which wobbles precariously under his weight. He steadies himself on the desk, and his hand lands on a slip of paper – on Greg Stickney’s resume.

Greg’s was the first resume Taylor had ever seen for a job at the Fun Zone, and Taylor had been impressed. It’s even typed up, with his name and phone number on the top and a list of previous jobs, mostly a lot of retail stuff, just like Taylor. Greg was a good hire. He comes to work when he’s supposed to, he doesn’t smack the kids when they swear at him, and he hasn’t spit in the food even once, as far as Taylor knows.

But he just can’t shake the image of Greg in that Count Bluntula T-shirt. He knew something was funny about that guy – he was always so calm and laid-back, but also really hard to read, like if Matthew McConaughey were a robot. But he couldn’t pin it down until he saw the shirt and everything clicked. Now he worries that a full-time stoner would be a bigger problem than no assistant manager at all.

Still, he can’t keep doing this alone. Taylor slumps in his chair and scratches at his chin. Maybe he should give the guy a shot.

A knock on his door startles him, and Carly pops her head in. “Hey, some guy’s out here about a job.”

They’re not technically hiring – he was given orders from the owner to promote the assistant from the current staff – but before Taylor can tell Carly to send him away, the door swings open further and reveals a man with a wide, welcoming smile and gloriously frosted blond tips in his hair. 

“Hey,” the man says, stepping forward and thrusting out a hand to shake. “I’m Larry. Larry Sherbet. I understand you might be looking for an assistant manager.”

+++

Larry is perfect. He, too, has a resume, and it’s even more impressive that Greg’s.

“You were a pilot?” Taylor says, reading over his work experience.

Larry nods and gives him another big grin. He’s sitting on a folding chair that Taylor usually keeps wedged between the file cabinet and the table with security cameras. He can’t remember the last time anyone actually sat in it.

“Yeah, remember that plane that hit a bird in New York? Pilot had to land in the Hudson?”

Taylor nods, then frowns. “I think so?”

“That was me,” Larry says, kicking his feet out in front of him and leaning back in the chair, hands clasped behind his head. “I saved like 300 people.”

“Wasn’t that guy super old?”

Larry rubs at his chin. “Shaved the mustache last year. It took off like 10 years.”

Taylor squints at him, and he can kind of see it. Larry looks like he’s in his late 20s, maybe early 30s, but he could be 60 – Taylor’s always been bad with ages.

“And it says here,” Taylor says, pointing at the next line, “that you took down a surfer bank robbery ring. That’s so dope, man. Isn’t there a TV show, or like a movie like that?”

“Point Break,” Larry says, smirking at him. “They based the movie off me. Had to retire from the FBI after that. Cover blown and all, you know how it is.”

He shrugs, like “what’re you gonna do?” and Taylor respects the guy’s no regrets attitude. 

Taylor hates to ask the next question, but: “Aren’t you a little over-qualified for this position?”

For the first time, the grin slips off Larry’s face, and he eases forward in his chair, eyes darting to the office door, and beckons Taylor toward him. It’s all very conspiratorial and Taylor’s loving it. He leans over his desk and raises an inquisitive eyebrow.

“You can’t tell anyone what I’m about to say to you,” Larry says, his voice low and serious and seductive.

A chill runs up Taylor’s spine and he swallows thickly, nods. “I won’t.”

Larry looks toward the door again and licks his lips. When he turns back to Taylor, they lock eyes, and Taylor holds his breath.

“I’m in witness protection,” Larry says. “I tangled with a mob boss and now I have to lie low until the feds catch him, or until I lose my freakin’ mind in this dump-hole state and run away with my girlfriend to Bermuda. Is Bermuda nice this time of year?”

“I think Bermuda’s nice any time of year,” Taylor says.

“Anyway,” Larry says, “I just need a job to keep my cover, and I don’t want to sell ATVs because those things’ll kill you and I don’t need more blood on my hands, you know?”

Taylor does not know.

“So-” Taylor says.

“To recap,” Larry interrupts, and holds up a hand, counting out on his fingers: “Witness protection, running from the mob, need a job.”

Taylor leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. Beyond his office door, he can hear a child sob-screaming and a woman shouting profanities at whoever’s behind the snack counter. Taylor glances at the two resumes now sitting on his desk, side by side.

“You’re full of shit, Larry,” Taylor says, as he stands up. He grins and thrusts out a hand. “And I dig it. How’d you like to be my new assistant manager?”

“I would like nothing better,” Larry says. They shake on it.

They’re going to be best friends now. Taylor’s sure of it. He throws an arm around Larry’s shoulder and leads him outside to meet the staff.

End Notes:

Title is from Feed the Beast (Bash Brothers).

I like writing outside perspectives of the main characters and the idea of writing “Jorm” was too much fun! (Might there be an Akiva one sometime this month? Only time will tell.)

I toggled back and forth between writing Taylor as really dumb or just really not giving a shit, but I feel like that could apply to a lot of the random characters in the Florida eps. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯