#as promised a chapter in mid october

[absoloutenonsense]

Coming October 31st…

When the Trouble Comes by nonsensedarling

Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson | 80k | Explicit

Official fic post is HERE.

The Queens Trafficking case is the biggest one of Louis’ FBI career so far; eleven reported missing girls all disappeared under a similar set of circumstances. Louis has done everything he can to try and solve this case over the last nine months... while also absolutely ruining his marriage. Harry has been co-host of Banter at Breakfast for five years now and finally has the opportunity to create his own radio show with the network. Unfortunately, it comes at a time where Harry's thoughts are consumed with his impending divorce from his (caring, loving, infuriatingly thoughtful) husband of eight years. Harry and Louis have both been willing to lose themselves in their work… but are they willing to lose each other?

Or a story of (almost) exes-to-lovers.

Chapters will post on Tuesdays of each week, starting on October 31st (20 chapters in total).

(If you would like to be notified by email when it starts posting, you can subscribe here.)

Snippet under the cut:

💼🍷

With a copy of the case file in his backpack, Louis sticks his key in the door, unlocks it, and steps inside, trying to be as quiet as he can because he knows at this time of night, Harry will definitely be asleep.

Except when he shuts the door, he sees the living room light bleeding out into the hallway, a shadow moving back and forth. There’s the sound of footsteps – lots of them, very quickly. Louis stares at the light and for a brief moment panics that he’s walked into their apartment to find Harry with someone else.

He hears light murmurs. Louis leans forward, feet frozen but his ears straining, until he recognizes the murmurs as Harry singing. Louis sighs in relief. Harry isn’t with someone else. He’s singing and probably dancing in the living room, maybe with his headphones in, which is why he hasn’t stopped or popped his head out between the doorframe when Louis opened the door.

Louis isn’t going to look in. He’s going to walk right past the doorway and head straight to the guest bedroom and review the file again, and then go to sleep so he can meet Perrie early in the morning.

He isn’t going to look in.

He really doesn’t mean to look in. A motion pulls his attention in his peripheral vision and his head turns without him realizing it, then his whole body stops moving.

Harry is dancing, wireless earbuds in and a glass of deep red wine in his right hand. There’s a pink tint to his cheeks, which tells Louis that the one in his hand is at least his third. He’s wearing just his boxer briefs and one of Louis’ hoodies.

Well, it was technically Harry’s hoodie originally. It’s heather grey, worn in to just the perfect amount of softness with a faded Greenbay Packers logo on the front. The first time Louis stayed over at Harry’s, he got cold just before they were going to bed. Harry took the sweatshirt from where it was draped over the top of the closet door and passed it to him.

When Louis pulled it on… he can’t really explain it, but there, in Harry’s dreadfully small room in his four-roommate apartment, wearing a hoodie that smelled exactly like him (like he’d been wearing it all day, soaked in the scent of his shampoo and body lotion and fabric softener)... Louis had the same feeling he got when he first visited New York when he was a kid. Like he was home. Harry had agreed. “Looks better on you then it ever has on me,” he’d said with a smirk. And from then on, it was Louis’ hoodie. Harry never tried to take it back.

So the fact that his husband is wearing it now makes Louis feel all sorts of things. Before he has even a second to figure out what any one of them is, Harry opens his eyes.

“Shit fucking Christ,” he exclaims, opening his hand automatically. It’s like Louis watches in slow motion as the glass falls and breaks, shattering in so many different directions. He pulls his earbuds out quickly. “Hell, Louis, you scared the shit out of me!” he scolds.

Harry rises up onto his tiptoes, and Louis’ hand immediately goes out in front of him in a stop gesture.

“Don’t, don’t move,” Louis says. “Stay there.”

He turns quickly towards the kitchen, throwing his backpack somewhere off to the side as he rushes to grab the dustpan and broom, as well as the roll of paper towels.

“I’m coming, stay still,” Louis shouts as he starts jogging back.

He keeps his eyes on the ground as he puts one paper towel down to soak up the wine there, then balls it up so he can sweep away the shards. He does the same as he works his way towards Harry’s feet.

There’s red wine all over his toes, that’s got to be uncomfortable. Louis grabs one of the paper towels and goes to dab his feet to wipe it off.

“Stop,” Harry says. He sounds angry.

Louis glances up and sees that he looks angry. He holds his hands up in a surrendering motion, not wanting to upset him anymore.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Well don’t,” Harry spits out.

He stands up slowly. Louis doesn’t know if he’s ever seen Harry this angry with him. Even the time Louis accidentally threw out his favorite pair of boots it wasn’t like this. Louis isn’t prepared for this bitterness coming from his husband, and he didn’t think divorce brought on something like that when it wasn’t there before, at least not before they’d even filed the paperwork.

[wizzdot]

The Patron Saint of One Way Trips

Ch12

Description: sorry for the long wait guys! Work has been crazyyyy - anyway. Here it is! Lil bit of progress with Simon - I reckon it’ll be 1 step forward, 2 back for a little while. Simon and Laika are both as fucked up as each other!! It’s a long chapter to make up for the wait. Hope you enjoy!!

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

I'd been warned during dinner last night that I was going to be 'put through my paces' today. The Captain told me to get a good nights sleep. Kyle and Johnny dropped me off at my room - Kyle said goodnight with a soft kiss to my cheek, and Johnny told me not to let the bed bugs bite. He also kissed me on the cheek, but it was far too close to the corner of my mouth. He must have missed his target. I spent all night trying to brush it off.

*Johnny's POV*

The pizza had been good, Kyle was bold and kissed our little lass on the cheek. I couldn't stop myself, had to one up him.. Her little blush and awkward reaction made it worth the risk. Gaz and I practically ran back to our shared room - we needed to rest up for training tomorrow. We finally get to see what our little Lass is made of.

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

Knock Knock Knock

"Lass? Can we come in..? Y'ready for us?"

I'd just stepped out of the shower. "Uhh - two seconds.. I'm just getting changed" I shout back through the door. I rush to pull on some workout shorts and a black sports bra. I glance at myself in the mirror. I swear that I already look healthier - I'd gone sort of gaunt during my time at the facility. My skin looks brighter, I'm cleaner and relaxed... and happier.

"I'm dressed but still need to braid my hair.." As soon as the words have left my mouth, Johnny barrels into the room, followed closely by Kyle. "Mornin', Lass" - "Hi Johnny" I reply, softly. Kyle puts his arm around my shoulders and smiles brightly at me "ready for today? Cap's in charge of what we're doing.. just need to see where we are at with you.. apparently there's shit going down in Mexico so we might need to step in over there... Just before Christmas too.." he sighs sadly.

I furrow my brows - "Christmas? I thought it was October??" - "Ignore him, Lass, he is one of them crazy people who wants to put the tree up straight after Halloween".

I look at Kyle and giggle. "I thought it was winter when you first found me" - "It's always winter in Russia to be fair" Kyle jokes back. "Yeah but you can't go confusing me like that.. I've not been aware of seasons or dates for years, I was just starting to grasp it again.. so no Christmas stuff until December...?" I explain, feeling more and more relaxed around the two younger Alphas everyday. "You promise to be here for Christmas, then?" Johnny bargains. There's that sad flip in my stomach again. "I - I don't know where I'll be, Johnny.. I don't think I am in control of that decision".

"We'll not let you leave.." Kyle jokes "Aye, hide you away from the others" Johnny continues, nudging Kyle. They both laugh but I just shake my head.

We are interrupted by the Captain who stands in the open door, not stepping inside. "Laika, didn't I tell you that those two shouldn't just let themselves into your room like this...?" - "I - I let them in, Cap- Sorry- John" he huffs a laugh "If you say so. Put your trainers on and let's get to the gym before the basics turn up for the day. Ghost's there already". he grumbles, rolling his eyes at the possibility of basic training turning up mid-session.

"You don't have to worry if the rookies turn up, Lass. They're a bunch of prats, think they're all Billy big baws and like to throw their scents around and show off.. if any of them bother you, we'll sort 'em out" I look at Johnny and nod with furrowed brows. I was nervous.

The Lieutenant is loitering menacingly at the sparring mats when we all arrive at the gym. "Took your fuckin' time" he grunts. I try not to react but I can't help the guilt that washes over me. "Laika, on the mat" he jerks his head toward the mat. I obey and step onto the mat, ringing my hands together nervously, chewing the skin inside of my cheek. "Gaz, I want you to go through basic sparring movements, see what she's made of" the Luitennant orders. Kyle looks between the masked Alpha and myself with unsure eyes. "Are you sure..?" I look up at him nodding "I'll be ok.. orders are orders" I reassure myself, trying to slip back behind my own mask. Trying desperately to become the asset again. Unfeeling, cold and calculated.

My eyes start to take in Kyle's movements, analysing when and how he will move. He is the leanest of the pack of Alpha's, meaning he is probably the fastest. But I'm smaller and, hopefully, smarter. He steps, hesitantly onto the mat and raises his arms into a defensive position. "Gaz, for fuck sake, move!" the Lieutenant barks "She ain't going to throw the first punch!" Something inside of me screams 'NOW'.

I leap forward and slide to the ground taking Kyle's legs out from under him before he has the chance to react. He was too busy concentrating on the upper half of his body.

Kyle falls backwards and lands just beside me, so I scramble to get nearer, using my legs to restrain his arms and placing my forearm over his throat firmly so he couldn't move. I meet his eye, and he looks completely shocked. Then a slow smirk starts to form on his face. He reaches up and taps twice on my back. Impressive, lovie" he chuckles. I release him and clamber away from his body, which is still laying flat on the mat, I start apologising over and over again..

"Soap.. your turn. Try not to get distracted like Garrick did, this is all pointless if you go easy on her.." Ghost barks. I look at Johnny with sad eyes. "C'mon, lass.. you heard the man. Lets have a proper tussle" he wiggles his eyebrows. My body betrays me, as it so often does, falling victim to Johnny's flirtatious comments. I blush and look away. This time Johnny is on me as quickly as I look away. I'm the one caught off guard this time. SHIT.

He gets us both to the ground and I can tell he is attempting to use his weight advantage against me. He just wants to get me pinned which will win him the match. I realise that I need to get back to my feet, and fast. I allow him to roll me far too easily which gives me the momentum to push away from him. I knee toward his crotch while we roll and manage to catch him lightly, just enough for him to curl in on himself slightly, giving me a small enough window to climb back to my feet.

He tries to get up quickly but he is on his knees. I grab his neck and use all of my body weight to pull him to the floor, practically wrapped around his torso like some sort of demented koala bear. He chokes slightly and taps twice on my upper arm, which is currently holding his neck in a headlock. I immediately let go, "Sorry.. I'm sorry. I hate this..." I panic, thinking that I'd pissed him off. "Lass, nothin' to be sorry for. You're a feral little madam on the mats.." He brushes his legs off and grabs me around the shoulders, pulling me towards his chest. He presses a quick kiss to my hair and pushes me gently back towards the mat, not before whispering in my ear "Clever little Lass".

"Not bad" Ghost says. "Tell me what you think of knives.." - "the winner of a knife fight is whoever dies second, or finds help quickly enough to survive. No one stays clean in a knife fight.." I murmur. The luitennant tilts his head and narrows his eyes at me. It's difficult to read his thoughts when he has the mask on, but what I'd said obviously struck a nerve with him. "Show me what you mean by that - here.." he hands me a dummy knife and steps toward the mat behind me..

"Wi-with you..?" I ask nervously. "Problem?" he grunts back at me. I shake my head.

He stands there with confidence. I must look ridiculous. I don't know what to do. The lieutenant suddenly takes a wide swipe with the knife, it narrowly misses my stomach thanks to my quick survival instincts telling my body to jump backwards. I suddenly snap back into the 'asset' mindset. I leap forward and aim for his head. His eyes, to be specific. I see a flash of surprise cross his eyes before he slams the knife from my hand, pain shoots up my entire arm but I ignore it. I react by kicking his outstretched arm so that he is also knife-less. I then leap at him and try to clamber up his back. He grabs me by the shoulder and slams me hard on the ground winding me. I slide backwards, terrified at the behemoth of an Alpha towering over me. I whimper, scared trying to get away, still winded and pain still shooting up my arm.

"Stop. STOP" he bellows. I whimper again, confused and terrified. I can see a storm brewing behind the masked Alpha's eyes. "GAZ - get her up, for fuck sake.." the Lieutenant storms away from the gym, the Captain following closely behind him. My eyes don't leave his form until the gym doors swing shut and Kyle and Johnny are cooing at me, trying to calm me down.

*GHOSTS POV*

FUCK, she's not a trained soldier by any stretch. But Christ, she goes into a desperate survival mode. Kill or be killed is the only description I can think of. Watching how she sparred with Kyle and Johnny, she was scared. Acting out of fear, and fear alone.

I wanted to see her knife skills - I don't know why I decided I should spar with her. She suddenly switched. That look in her eyes. She was feral. She was genuinely trying to hurt me. She had no differentiation between training and real fighting. It was all real to her. Kill or be killed - and she thought I was trying to kill her... She thinks I'm a monster.

I try to stop her by disarming her, I know my thumping blow to her arm must have hurt. It had to, but she barely even flinched. She was in survival mode. She caught me off guard and disarmed me. Clever girl, leveling the playing field - if this was a real fight that is - but I was trying to halt the fight. She needed to cool off before she went even more feral.

I was NOT expecting her to leap at my back and try to choke me. It left me with only one option - to flip her and get her flat on the ground. It worked for a couple of seconds. She paused, the look in her eye no longer murderous. But within a split second, she stunk of pure fear. Like she was staring at death himself. Me. I try to step forward with a hand out to show that I was no longer armed but she backed away, eyes flashing like a cornered dog.

SHIT. Why'd my stomach do that. I'm trying to help her and she's fuckin' terrified of me. Fuckin' hurt her too.

"Stop" I try. It doesn't work. "STOP" fuck Simon, why can't you be fuckin' gentle for once?! Brute - my brain shouts at me.

"Gaz - get her up, for fuck sake.." I shout. She looks helpless but, fuck, I feel helpless as well. I've never felt like this.

The sharp, sour smell of her fear. It makes my eyes water. Makes me want to fuckin' hurl. I turn and leave, not feeling well all of a sudden.

She has two Alpha's she actually likes to help her. Fuck, I hope she isn't hurt.. I don't deserve nice things. My Pack are probably going to drop me now. The fucking brute that you are Simon Riley.

The anger at my own stupidity boils over. I'd almost made it back to the Pack room but my fist meets the wall before I get there. I roar, angrily - or did it sound more broken than that? FUCK. Then I smell Price. He is fuckin' seething. I can already smell him.

I slam the door to the shared room and slide down the wall, grabbing angrily at my mask. I rip it from my face. "ARGRGHHHHHH" I roar again. I grab fistfuls of my hair. Fuckin' prick.

I hear the door close and then a presence sit beside me. It's Price.

"What the bloody hell happened back there Simon?" he growls. I can tell he is holding back his rage.

"She was feral" I grunt. I didn't know what else to say..

"And why was that..? Why did you let it get to that stage..?" he asks. Fuck sake, he is treating me like a fuckin' child.

"Wasn't just me. The girl doesn't know the difference between practice and survival.. She was fighting for her fuckin' life" I growl, pulling at my hair.

I feel his hands pry mine away from my head. "Simon. C'mon. Look at me.." - "Alpha - I need some time..." I break slightly.

"Time for what, Simon?" - "Time to think. I don't understand what is happening.. I can't stand the girl. I can't be near her"

John stays silent beside me, knowing that I needed to find my own way out from this maze.

"But.. but when she had that look in her eye, I needed to protect her. Protect her from me.. It's either me or her, Cap. I can't be near her. I'll kill her".

A warm hand grips my shoulder and squeezes. "Simon. You are too hard on yourself. You are the glue that often holds this pack together. Laika is finding her place in a new world. You've been in a similar position. I have a feeling you two are more alike than you think. Please, give it time. I'm not throwing you out of the pack, Simon. I'm not even angry at you. Never doubt your place or importance here, Simon - Never. Is that understood?"

My eyes furrow. I grab my mask and pull it back over my face. "Yes, sir. Understood" - "good, now come. The boys will have calmed Laika down by now" - "I hurt her" I interrupt. "You didn't mean to. I know you were trying to stop the fight. I saw it" - "she will need the medic.. I hit her hard. Can't do anything gentle. Fuckin' brute" - "Simon.. you did what you had to... she was going feral. C'mon, no more sparring. We will move onto target practice and finish with a five kilometer run - together. That'll be enough to fill in her file. We can make up the rest. She is on the team, I don't care about all of the tests".

I can feel my head clearing, the pack Alpha had successfully dragged me from a dark spiral. My panic attacks were not pretty. I get back to my feet when he offers me a hand to help hoist me up. "Sorry.." - "No Simon, save your apologies. Small steps, yeah? Let's work on chipping away at that wall you put up around Laika first. The boys adore her already.." - "I know. Johnny reeks of her at night time. Felt like I was wakin' up next to a fuckin' Omega this morning" - "Simon, she hasn't presented. I had her tested - results aren't back till next.." - "John - she is a fuckin' Omega. Stunk of honey and oranges since the first time I saw her tied up against the wall when Johnny found her. Can't you smell her..?"

"Faintly. The doctors said her scent will settle once the drugs leave her system. But her scent - it's barely there, Simon. She smells more like Johnny and Kyle right now" he shakes his head at me as if he doesn't believe me. "That's impossible.." - "I'll talk to the doctors tomorrow, Simon. We've got to get through today. I've got Kate on at me about Mexico - we will need to decide what to do about that - so the sooner she is cleared to work with us, the better, understood?" - "Yes, sir" - "Right, screw your head back on and come with me. I'll take the lead for the rest of the day. You sit back with Johnny and cool yourself off, ok?" -

“Affirmative”

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

Kyle and Johnny saw what happened. They saw me trying to kill their pack mate. "I'm sorry - I don't - I don't know what happened.. I'm.." - "Shhh Love, hey, look at us - you need to look at us. We aren't angry at you. The Captain is with Simon, he will be ok. We need to check your back and your arm. You got hit pretty hard.." Kyle explains, stroking my cheek.

"Aye, Lass, c'mon, let us have a wee look, just want to make sure you're ok.." - "I'm fine.. I'm ok.." - "You sure..?" - "Yeah, promise" I assure them, even though I am feeling the aches from Ghost's hits. I jump slightly when the gym doors crash open. It's them. The Captain and Lieutenant. Ghost stops about 10 yards from the rest of us. I try not to look toward him, still feeling nervous. I see the Captain nod Johnny in Ghost's direction and Johnny immediately walks toward the massive Alpha and comforts him.

The Captain steps closer to me. "You're ok to continue? Not hurt?" - "No, Captain" I pretend. "Ok, we are going to the shooting range.. boys, lead the way" He directs toward Johnny and Ghost. They both turn and lead us to the shooting range. It's a huge open field. Targets and metal human-shaped silhouettes peaking out from behind pretend trenches and sand bag walls.

There are a couple of sergeants already shooting when we arrive. I get handed a set of ear protectors from John. He then walks me to a locked metal shed and explains that this is one of the gun-stores on the base.

"You said you were a sniper?" _ "Yes" - "What'd you use..?" - "Uhm.. A gun..?" - "You don't know what model of rifle?" - "Oh.. sorry.. no - I just used what they gave me, just happened to be quite good" I admit shyly. He huffs a small laugh and then grabs a large case and lays it gently on the ground, opening the top to reveal a huge, dark green rifle.

"This is an Accuracy International rifle.. we've used them for a long while now, best you'll get. We can alter sights and scopes to suit you. They're quite lightweight compared to other manufacturers. In all, it's probably seven kilos - give it a try and see what you think, Love". I stare at the piece of metal as if it would jump out and attack me. "This is the L96 model.. I assume that you used a Russian SV-98 type? They're popular over there. Poor mans sniper they are, if you were good with one of them, you'll be impressive with one of these" the Captain rambles. It's all pretty pointless to be honest because I know nothing about guns. I was just thrown one by a guard and told to shoot it, and punished if I missed. You learn fast that way.

I listen to him talk anyway, enjoying the gruffness of his voice and the fact that he seemed quite interested and excited to talk about guns. I nod along as if I understand what he is saying. "Ok, Let's give it a try then, love" -he hands me the gun and stands closely behind me. "See that target over there" he points "I want you to hit that - take your time". I nod and get comfortable holding the rifle. It feels different. Foreign. I lower myself to the ground and eye up the target in the scope. I breathe in and hold my breath. One, two, click.

"Well done - slightly left but hit the target" the Captain says. I furrow my brows, confused. "Can I try again?" I ask, disappointed. He shrugs and nods. I aim again and concentrate more this time. Breathe in. Hold it. One, Two, Shoot... Fuckin' left again.. what the fuck?

"You're doin' well, Lass. Why are you pissed off. It's not like you're missing.." Johnny pipes up. I scoff at him. "It should be hitting dead center.. I don't miss, Johnny.. I can't miss like this.." I rant. "I'm trying again, I think the guns sight is off.." I get into position the same as the last two tries but this time I aim half a line further to the right of the cross hair. One, two, Click. I huff a laugh. "Got it.. I need to aim off to the right to make a clean hit. I'll get used to it.." I mumble, continuing to eye the scope and point the rifle in different directions, pretending to aim at things. "Whoa, lass. Dinnae point it at us, fuck sake" Johnny jokes as I start turning slowly towards the pack. I was totally in my own little world there.

"We can have the sight adjusted if you like?" John offers "although I doubt it's this one that's been off. I reckon the one you've learnt to shoot with is off - so you naturally drop your rest arm to allow for the difference. Have you noticed that..?" John questions. "Uhm, no.. I've only ever used that sniper rifle.. I don't really know much about guns - was just given a crash course to be honest.."

He smiles and pats the top of my head "Well you ain't half bad for just having had a crash course, love - those hits would have passed you as a sniper here anyway, yet here you are complaining that you're a couple of millimeters left of where you wanted it.." I laugh nervously and look down at my feet.

Kyle walks up beside me and removes the gun from my arms and places it gently back in its case. "Better shot than most of us, anyway.. I reckon with a bit of familiarization with the new scope, you'll out-perform LT" I immediately glance back to the ground and feel nervous, scared to feel the wrath of the Lieutenant again. I subconsciously rub my sore arm before the Captain speaks up. "I wanted to end the day with a quick five kilometer run. It'll give Laika chance to see the perimeter of the base and also good exercise for you three lazy buggers!" he jokes. Johnny clutches his chest in false offence, Kyle just laughs and walks himself over to the Captain, giving him a gentle shove. "Lazy, sir? I'm not sure about that.." I blush - was he flirting with his Alpha? I shouldn't be witnessing this. I'm not one of them.. The Captain chuckles darkly and jokingly grabs Kyle by the scruff of his neck and growls softly at him, causing the younger Alpha to groan and blush. I turn away.

Johnny just laughs along, elbowing Simon who still looks pissed off from this mornings encounter.

The gun case gets placed on the floor of the large cabinet, stood upright. The Captain goes and chats to the supervisor and takes a small paper ticket and signs something. I watch from a distance, assuming he was just signing the gun back into storage. He returns to the group and smiles "Right, get your arses in gear. Take the first km steady as the warm up, then we will see who's the fastest. Finish is back here. Full lap of the base.. no cheating, Simon". I furrow my brows again, god I do that a lot, I'm going to get a frown line if I'm not careful. The Lieutenant didn't strike me as the type to cheat on a simple jog. I shake my head and watch the others limber up and stretch. I don't join them. Just watch, confused. I only ever ran when I was forced or chased. Never for.. leisure?

"Right, Kyle - lead us off for the first few hundred meters, just to get us onto the outside loop" - "Yessir'" Kyle chirps back. He strides off quickly. I try to stay with Johnny. Simon and John jogging gently behind. I stay on Johnny's heels for a few minutes but can feel myself getting tired. He keeps looking round at me as if he is surprised I'm still that close to him. Kyle is away out in front. How does he make it look so easy?! He is barely breaking a sweat, looks like he is just floating. I guess he was the best runner of the team. Johnny runs like a man possessed. I huff a laugh, his run matches his personality. All elbows and fast movements. He looked busy but he was still fast. I glance behind to try and spot the other two Alphas.

"Dinnae' look back when you're running Lassie, you'll trip!" Johnny shouts, while running backwards. What a showoff! I scoff and roll my eyes at him before wiping the sweat from my brow. "The two big'uns are slow, lass! Too heavy to be speedy like me and Kyle.." He jokes, speeding up and slowing down. "Johnny!" I pant, struggling to talk while gasping for air "Stop showing off!" - "No, Lass - I'm impressed, you're doing well! Didn't think you'd keep up with me to be honest - Gaz ran track when he was at school, he coulda been a pro runner, fucken bullshit. He has the record on base - as if I didn't almost bust a fuckin' gut to beat him to still lose" he laughs. I glance up ahead and Kyle is barely even trying. In fact, it looks like he is on his phone.. he has slowed right down as if he is waiting for us.

I just concentrate on forcing my feet to keep hitting the ground one in front of the other. I couldn't say that I was enjoying this, but it was better than being forced or chased.. It was weirdly satisfying. My lungs were on fire but I wasn't in danger.. I was just running for the sake of it - something I never thought I'd ever manage to do again. I felt like a child in a playground. The strange nostalgic feeling helps to push the pain and fatigue away. I actually somehow manage to pick up the pace. I glance back behind me and can no longer see the two larger Alphas. Just Kyle a couple of hundred meters ahead, and Johnny about ten meters in front of me.

I fall into a relaxed state, all I could hear was my own breaths and all I concentrated on was keeping them even. In Out In Out In Out. A few meters we turn a corner and I spot the Captain and Lieutenant ahead of us all. HANG ON A FUCKIN' MINUTE - CHEATS. I speed up, as does Johnny. "Ya see that, Lass, fuckin' Cap dinnae even take his own advice. Let's get them!" He shouts back to me mischievously. I giggle and shake my head fondly, but push myself faster.

Kyle goes past them first and obviously makes a comment because Ghost gestures with his hands and John throws his head back and laughs while still jogging slowly. I don't quite hear as Johnny and I are still about fifty meters behind them. C'mon, lass - you jump Cap, I'll get Ghost.."

"Jump... wait Johnny - what do you mean...?" Johnny had already shot off and almost caught up to them. I push myself into a sprint and my face splits into a huge smile. Johnny had leapt onto Simon's Ghost's back and bundled them both to the ground. I don't quite know what came over me in the moment. I laugh and leap at John in the same style that Johnny had with Ghost. John huffs as I hit into his back and stays running for a few strides before eventually loosing his balance and falling to the ground. He rolls so that he is underneath me and takes the brunt of the fall. He grunts as his back hits the grass. I can hear Johnny cackling like a madman and then the Captain speaks from underneath me.

"Johnny's bad behavior is rubbing off on you, love.." I blush and look away, only to meet eyes with Kyle, who is smiling brightly at the scene in front of him. I decide to be very brave. I stop laughing along with Johnny and sit back on his lap and reply back playfully "Bad behavior, Sir? It wasn't us who broke our own rule of not cheating.." I trail off, feeling nervous at how he was going to take my response. He goes silent before growling. I freeze momentarily before I feel his warm arms around me. He stands easily holding my weight and drops me off in Kyle's arms. "Cheeky little thing, you are. I'll need to ask Kyle to teach you some manners, you little minx.." My face heats up and I hide in Kyle's shoulder, giggling. I look over to Johnny who is beaming even though he is pinned by the largest Alpha. Christ, the Lieutenant is massive. Something inside of me makes me whimper, thinking that Johnny is in danger. I wriggle slightly and Kyle turns me away from the scene and whispers into my ear "Simon would never hurt any of us.. trust me on that, yeah?" I whine a reply along the lines of 'mmmhmm'.

*John's POV*

Simon and I decide to treat the final run as a leisurely jog. I already knew that the two young Alphas would shoot off like bloody rockets. They always did the same. What I don't expect is for little Y/N to keep pace with Johnny. Yes, she looks like she is struggling slightly, but the girl has guts. She keeps the pace.

Simon grunts at me around half way through, says that we should meet them at the end so that they 'don't get up to any mischief'. Of course, I agree, and nod in the direction of the best short cut. My knees aren't getting any younger, after all.

Simon and I rejoin the outer perimeter, having cut the top loop out. Kyle jogs by and tells us that our cheating isn't going to go down well with Johnny. Simon tells him to 'do one, Garrick' and something about how we aren't all 'failed athletes' like him which forces a laugh to bellow from my mouth. Such a back handed compliment.

The next thing that I do not predict happening is for Johnny to fell Simon like a fuckin' tree - the boy near on rugby tackles the lad. I watch it all happen from the corner of my eye, laughing as Simon hits the deck and Johnny crawls over him. The boy is like a terrier. Insatiable and endlessly energetic. The next thing I don't reckon on happening is for Y/N to creep around my peripheral vision and leap onto my back.

It's a given, she is much lighter that Johnny, but she also carries herself with much more grace. Her 'rugby tackle' method was rather cat-like. I manage to stay upright for a few strides until her leg taps mine, causing me to trip. It was one of those falls when you know you're going down. It gives me time to spin and take the fall so that I don't land on her, or catapult her, face first, into the grass.

I land on my back and stare back up at her happy face while she is draped across my chest, clung like a Koala. Her walls were down in this moment. She is genuinely happy. I have to move heaven and earth to not grab at her. Her scent is rolling off of her - as strong and sweet as I have smelt it. Control yourself, John!

She blushes like crazy at my comment - about how Johnny is rubbing off on her. She then sasses back at me and Christ, I need to get away from her before I do something that will scare her away. But I'm a greedy man. I stand with her, not quite able to release her yet. I drop her off with sweet Kyle. He wouldn't take advantage of her like I would. I cant help myself. I make an overly sexual remark about Kyle teaching her manners. We all know it wouldn't be Kyle who taught her manners. That job is down to Simon and I. Kyle and Y/N blush, I notice that Kyle nuzzles into her neck when she hides her pretty little blush in his shoulder. Cheeky boy couldn't help himself could he?

Something changes in her expression when she looks up to see Simon pinning Johnny. Then, almost within a split second, her scent changes to a sharper, sour scent. She is scared again. Simon notices the change without even looking. I can tell by his body language. He softens his hold on the younger Alpha and leans down to scent him, Johnny laughs and nuzzles all over Simon's mask. I glance to see how Laika reacts but Kyle had already turned her away. Damn it!

When will she ever see the soft side of Simon Riley?

I take a deep breath, to try and calm myself down from the earlier excitement. As an Alpha, I hadn't had a woman - let alone a possible Omega - sitting on top of me for years now. Of course, my body reacted accordingly. Once I've successfully chilled out, I turn and step back towards a smirking Kyle and a happier Y/N.

I push the loose strands of her hair back behind her ears. "C'mon love".

She giggles and apologises for her earlier behavior. "Don't ever say sorry for having fun, love. I enjoyed seeing you like that. Even Simon chuckled at your little sassy comment.." I wiggle my eyebrows. She blushes again and looks down. She really is unsure of Simon.

I'd - We'd - need to rectify that...

- two days later -

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

Darkness, wet, blood, pain, screaming...

Another nightmare. I thought they were getting better. I cannot get myself out of this one, tossing and turning. I can feel the sweat and tears falling from my face. Was that real or just the nightmare?

*Ghost's POV*

A blood curdling scream echoes the hallway at about 1AM. I was sitting in the kitchen with my feet up on the coffee table, reading a book. I stand up immediately and follow my nose to her room. What the fuck am I supposed to do. The others are all asleep, she is fuckin' terrified of me but she is whimpering and crashing about in there. Fuck it. I'm going in. The annoying Alpha voice inside of my brain is screaming to help her. I wish it would shut the fuck up to be honest. It's been louder than ever since the second she turned up.

I bang on the door - no answer. I step into the strange room hesitantly. Stupid girl didn't even lock the door. I know that Alphas shouldn't intrude Omega's nests, but she needed help.

She isn't on the fuckin' bed. She's ran away, heard me fuckin' coming. She is hiding somewhere. Stupid fuckin' bastard - should never have come in here. She probably thinks I'm coming to kill her.

Over the sound of my thoughts, I hear another pained whimper. The cupboard. Don't tell me that she's-

She is in the fuckin' cupboard. In a fuckin' nest. A nest with Johnny and Kyle's clothes and - is that Cap's missing towel? He lost that yesterday..

I find myself staring at the sight inside of the cupboard. Probably for too long, because I'm drawn back to the situation when she starts breathing erratically.

I try to gently tap her arm. She doesn't wake up. I squeeze her arm now, she flinches, but still doesn't wake up.

"Laika.. it's - fuck - it's me.. Ghost... Wake up..." - nothing. Just more thrashing around.

"Fuckin' hell" I grumble. I lower myself so that I am knelt on the floor in the doorway of the open cupboard. I grab her shoulders and shake. It's the only option I have, having tried everything else.

She snaps out of her nightmare with a shriek, slapping and scrabbling at my chest and face. "Fuck girl - it's me.. I'm - I'm tryin to fuckin' help you" - "DON'T TOUCH ME - GET AWAY" she yells at me.

I'd be lying if my heart didn't freeze over when she says that. Such fear in her voice. Fuck it. Only option left. I grab her around the waist and hold her in one arm, flinging her over my shoulder. She is crying and crashing my back with weak, panicked punches. I hardly feel it. Too numb from her words. I march her out of her room and down the hallway. "Pl-please - please don't" she cries. What the fuck did she think I was gonna do to her?!

I reach the door I was looking for and open in, storming in and dumping her on the bed. She clambers quickly away from me, over the limbs of my pack mates. John wakes up abruptly, instantly in defense mode. She flies towards him and clings to his torso as if she fitted there all too perfectly. She is sobbing now. John growls as he blinks away sleep.

"What the fuck, Simon. What've you done..?" He looks between the sobbing mess clung to him, and me. Great, my own fuckin' Alpha thinks I've 'done' something to her.

By now Johnny and Kyle had woken up too. They move to the space between myself and the girl. Were they creating a barrier?! Didn't they trust me..? Of course they don't. You're a monster.

I sigh, feeling broken, and turn to leave the room. Christ knows where to, but I needed to disappear for a while. I'm almost out of the room. I stop when I hear her. "Si-simon..?"

I don't turn. I just face the doorway, still intending to leave.

Then the Captain speaks up "Answer her, Simon.." I sigh again.

"What?" I snap over my shoulder at her. I see her flinch, "I'm - I'm sorry.." she whines "S'fine" I grunt back, still not turning to face her.

"What happened?" Johnny asks. I don't expect to feel his hand in mine, tugging me back toward the bed. "Get off Johnny" I shake his hand away from mine, but ever persistent, he grabs at my hand again. "Si - what happened?" he asks again.

"The girl was havin' a fuckin' nightmare. Heard her screaming from the kitchen. Didn't even wake up when I banged on the door. She was hiding in her fuckin' cupboard. Didn't even lock her door".

"So.. you helped her..?" Kyle asks hesitantly "what else was I 'sposed to do? Fuckin' let her scream the place down all night?" I snap back - ok fair, that was uncalled for. I have my own fair share of nightmares. Those in glass houses 'n all that bullshit....

"S-sorry.. I didn't mean-" - "I said s'fine" I grunt at her. She hides behind John's shoulder now. She's terrified of me.

"Y/N.. what do you want to do..?" Kyle asks her "Don't want to be a-alone again.." she whimpers back at him. He strokes her cheek. Why can't I be gentle like that?

"Alpha.. can - can she stay here for tonight..?" He asks John nervously. I forgot Johnny was still holding my hand, but he squeezes it excitedly when Kyle asks if she can stay.

"Y/N.. would you feel comfortable here..? I give you my word, we will not touch you.. not hurt you..it's your choice.."

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

"Y/N.. would you feel comfortable here..? I give you my word, we will not touch you.. not hurt you..it's your choice.." The captain asks me.. I sniffle into his shoulder. His bare shoulder. "Please.. please, if it's ok - ok with everyone.." I stutter and sniff. "Shhh sweetheart, it's ok.." John reassures me, rubbing my back softly.

He lays me down between him and Kyle. I glance towards Johnny and Ghost. Johnny has finally succeeded in dragging Ghost into the bed. He is as far away from me as he can possibly be on the massive bed. Johnny snuggles up to him and rests his head against Ghost's chest. I can almost see some of the tension leave Ghost's body. I look away and roll to face Kyle. He is already looking at me as I turn around. He smiles softly down at me and whispers "you ok, love?" I nod against the pillow. He motions towards himself and as my eyes meet his motioning hand, I notice that he is also shirtless. Do none of these men wear a shirt to bed?!

I furrow my brows at his gesture "C'mere love, snuggle up to me" he chuckles. "I don't want to be a burden" I sniffle, my face still red and puffy from all of the crying. "Never, now come here" he motions towards himself again. "Gaz.. behave" John warns from his position behind me. "Behaving, sir" - "Better fuckin' be" he grumbles back. His voice was extra gravelly at this time of night. I shuffle towards Kyle and he engulfs me in his arms. He is so warm.. His scent calms me down almost immediately. I push my head so it's resting atop his chest. He slots his chin over the top of my head.

I drift off to sleep, quicker than I had for years. The last thing I feel is a strong, hairy arm wrap around both of us and pull us slightly closer.

[theclairvoyage]

Centrifugation: Chapter 1

plasmadonor!Joel x f!reader

You’re the star phlebotomist at the local plasma center, and the job has been increasingly mundane as of late… until a new and handsome Texan donor comes to the center and changes that, and the rest your life.

Series Masterlist

Series warnings:

AU, M/F, Age gap (20 years)-reader’s YOB is 1995 (purely coincidental lolol), eventual SMUT, blood, needles, & plasma talk (nothing too graphic, I promise!), a bit of blasphemy, criticism of religion, mentions of death, divorce, angst, fluffity fluff fluff, alcohol consumption, violence.  Individual chapters will have specific warnings.

FYI – this work contains criticisms of religion and reader is atheist/agnostic.  Feel free to scroll if this offends you.  If you decide to read, remember that even if you are religious, this is not an attack on you, but rather ideology.  And remember the tenets of religious freedom.  Everyone has the right to believe – and NOT to believe – in the things you do.

Plasma Center UrbanDict:

Stick = venipuncture

PR = permanent rejection, aka permanent deferral

Reception = where donors have vitals taken to determine if they are suitable to donate

Donor Floor = where the magic happens, baby! Where donation occurs, aka sticks with big 17G needles

 Processing = where units of plasma are sampled and frozen

This is my first ever fic! Excited to share all of it with you. I'm new to posting this kind of stuff on Tumblr, so please forgive rookie formatting and whatnot. Hope you enjoy! As of 03/10/24, I have 6 chapters written - I'm juggling my writing with finishing my MPH degree, so my schedule might be a little spotty until mid-May.

Chapter 1

Chapter warnings: blood, needles, & plasma talk, light violence.

WC: 3.7k

Friday, October 15th | 0755

You turn into the parking lot at the plasma center, a little later than your usual 10 minutes early.  Your shift is at 8, so you don’t have much time to walk to the center, clock in, grab your coat and face shield and get to work.  Thankfully, the parking lot is just across the street.  As soon as you step out of your car, downtown Omaha greets you with the familiar scents of cigarette smoke and fall air, along with the sounds of the city buses and commuters chugging along.

It’s a nice morning.  Living in Nebraska means you get to experience the peaks and valleys of all four seasons, and during fall, this means the leaves of what few trees are in the downtown area are painted lovely hues of orange, yellow, and even red – if you’re lucky enough to find a scarlet or pin oak tree.

The plasma center parking lot is shared with employees and donors, and it’s packed this morning.  Not a great sign.  You walk up to the back employee entrance and punch in the code.  The keypad beeps and lights up green and you pull open the ages-old, heavy-as-hell door and make your way to the break room.

The donor waiting area is just outside the break room door, and you can tell by how full it is that it’s going to be a long day, confirming your earlier suspicions in the parking lot.  Somebody definitely called in, you think.  Great.  Punching in the same code as before, you enter the break room, throw your stuff in your locker, and clock in.

As soon as you’re on the Donor Floor, donned with your white lab coat, blue nitrile gloves, and face shield, one of your best phlebotomists and good friend Keri approaches, looking flustered as hell.

“Jesus, thank fuck you’re here,” she sighs, taking a deep breath and raising her eyebrows at you.  She smooths back her frizzy hair and sets down her face shield on the counter next to you.

“Are we short today, or did corporate send out some bonus texts to half of Omaha?” you say, checking the Donor Queue on the computer.  15 people waiting, average wait time of 43 minutes.  Fucking clean up time, I guess.

“Two call-outs, but they’re newbies, so it wouldn’t have mattered, really,” she says.  “Definite yes on the bonus texts.  Regulars are all pissed off because they didn’t get any.”  You roll your eyes and sigh.  To get more donors in, the company you work for has been sending bonus texts to donors that haven’t been in in a while, which really ticks off the regular, twice-a-week donors.  It’s all about meeting that liters budget.

“Where do you need me?  Breaks need to be sent?” you ask her.  You’re the lead phlebotomist, but you always check in with whoever opened before you make any decisions.  Keri nods.  “Send Blake to break, he’s got an open section now and we’ve got to get these wait times down.”  You grab your mobile phlebotomy device and head that way.

Each phlebotomist can have a maximum of 6 donors in their section.  You see Blake cleaning up the machine from his last disconnect, leaving you an empty section.  “You can head to break, I’ll take over here,” you say, helping him wipe down the now-empty donor bed.

“Thanks… really happy that you’re here.  It’s been a shit show today,” he says, walking away from the section toward the break room.  You groan and head up to the front near the waiting area, grab a chart, and start climbing the mountain.

Thursday, October 15th | 1230

The morning turned out to be an absolute disaster.  You quickly filled up your section once you sent Blake to break, apologizing to every donor you sat for the wait times.  Most were understanding.  There were a few that gave you an eye roll or a shrug.  A few left the center, not wanting to be late for work.  The fall is generally a busy time at the center, with people seeking extra money for football tailgates and games, college students needing extra money for just about everything, and parents stocking up early on holiday savings.

Thankfully, Keri, you, and the rest of the morning Donor Floor crew knocked the Queue down to 3 donors and wait times down to 10 minutes.  Once the last morning break was done, they came over and sent you to your lunch.  Delighted, you took off your sweaty coat and hung it up, washed your hands at the sink by the coat rack, and headed to the break room.

Before you’re able to punch in the door code, a deep, velvety voice stops you.

“Uh, miss?  Can you point me in the right direction?”

You turn and look in the direction of the voice and see a taller man with dark, silvery-streaked curly hair, tanned skin and pensive brown eyes staring at you.  He’s donning a red flannel that squeezes his broad shoulders and ropy arm muscles, and dark wash Levi’s that have the outline of his wallet imprinted in the front right pocket.  He’s definitely a blue-collar guy, not unlike a lot of the current donors.  Must be a new donor, you think.  Damn, he looks good.  You feel a little zap in your chest, not unlike the fingerstick donors get during screening.

“Hi!  Are you a new donor?”  You ask, turning on your customer service voice in hopes of calming your nerves.  You step back from the door and walk toward him.  He’s got a small white paper slip in hand, which tells you he needs his veins checked, so he must be new.

“Yes ma’am, need someone ‘ta look at my veins.  Been here before, but it’s been a long time,” he says, watching you approach him and giving you the once-over.  Twice-over.  Your pulse quickens.  His voice is like icing, dripping with a sweet Southern accent and mushing your insides.  You smile and take the paper from him, hoping that you aren’t blushing.

“Roll up your sleeves for me and let’s take a look,” you say, watching him roll up the sleeves of his red flannel.  He’s got thick, veiny forearms that are tanned and covered with freckles.  He wears a watch on his left wrist that you assume hasn’t been removed in years, judging by the pure white skin peeking underneath.  His hands are big and scarred.  Definitely works with his hands, you think.  He has a small, circle-shaped scar on his right arm near the venipuncture site, so he was telling the truth about donating plasma before.  You grab a tourniquet hanging on the cabinet near the chart area, wrap it on his upper arm, and feel.  His veins are huge and muscular, and you realize you didn’t need the tourniquet in the first place.  Rookie mistake.

“Guess I really don’t need this,” you say, removing the tourniquet and feeling his ropy veins with your index finger.  His skin is warm under your clammy finger.  He chuckles.  “Heard that one before,” he says.  You laugh and make eye contact with him, noticing the crinkles at the corners of his eyes and his salt and pepper beard.  His gaze is amiable and filled with something else you can’t quite pinpoint, and your stomach twists.  You look away before you can decipher it.

“I don’t think you’ll have any issues with the stick,” you say, and he laughs.  “Are you hydrated?  Had a good meal in the last hour or two?” You ask, writing your name on the vein check slip and circling “Pass.”  You see the name Joel Miller written at the top.

“Yes ma’am, I do a lot of workin’ outside and with my hands, so I know better,” he says, confirming your earlier assumption.  His voice is sending a wave of tingles from your ears to your neck, and you feel goosebumps start to erupt in their pathway.

“Good man, Joel,” you say, noticing him perk up at you saying his name, “Take this back to the front desk and we’ll get you processed as quickly as we can.”  He nods, gives you a handsome-as-fuck lopsided smile, and walks back to the front.  You head back to the break room and turn to glance at him once more to find that he's already looking at you.  Fuck, you think, looking back at the door.  Don’t need a hot donor making me feel nervous like this.  He’s older than you, but he might be the most handsome guy you’ve ever seen.  You can only imagine how homely you look, clad in your scrubs and sweaty from the morning hustle and bustle.

You see every part of humanity at your job: young and old, foreign and domestic, all races and ethnicities, handsome and near homeless.  There have been a few men that have caught your eye, and a few that you’ve met up with outside of the center, but none like this one.  As tedious and mundane as the job can be, it’s the people that make it exciting, especially attractive ones.  Well, hopefully he passes screening so I can see him on the Donor Floor, you think, contemplating what you’re going to get for lunch in the short time that you have.

Thursday, October 15th | 1430

Your break went by too fast.  You decided on some fast-food place just across the street from the center.  It’s good and cheap, but you know the greasy food is going to put you in a late-afternoon lull.  Oh well.  After you got back, the lobby was still relatively empty, so you started working on doing the monthly machine cleanings in the meantime.

The plasmapheresis machines are complicated and like everything else in the plasma center, they come with lots of rules and regulations.  You’re a seasoned pro, though, so the cleaning and documentation are a breeze.  You’re heading over to clean the last of the machines in the third row of the Donor Floor when you see a familiar, handsome head of dark salt-and-pepper curls walk behind Keri to one of the donor beds in the first row.  He smiles at you as he lies on the donor bed, and you feel your cheeks heat and curl up into a smile of their own.  Get a fucking grip.  You’re relieved that Keri is taking care of him, because you’re nervous just seeing him in your work area.  You can only imagine how shaky your hands would be with a needle if you were the one sticking him.

While cleaning the machines in the third row, you periodically look over at Joel and Keri.  Keri is great with the donors, and it’s evident when you see Joel laughing with her.  Each time you look up, he’s either already looking at you or looks up right after you do.  You try to play it off like you’re scanning over all the donors, making sure everything is going as it should, but the sweat sheen forming on your face and neck betray you.

You see the light on his machine turn green, indicating he’s been stuck and is running smoothly.  You imagine what it would’ve been like to feel his veins again, feeling his warm, tan skin underneath your fingers… and underneath other things, like—

“Oh my god, that man is such a charmer… and asked about you at least three times,” Keri states, snapping you out of your horny daydream.  Your eyes widen and you turn so he can’t see your face from where he’s seated.

“Shhh!  Keep your voice down!”  You hiss, making both of you giggle.  “What was he saying?”

“Oh, nothing much, just asking what the cute girl that checked his veins was doing all the way over here,” she smirks.  “He used to donate here over 25 years ago when the center first opened up.  Can you believe he’s that old?  He does NOT look like it.”  Odd, you think.  He didn’t sound like he was from here when you spoke to him earlier.  Wait, did he say I was cute?  Blushing at his remark about your appearance, you remember the scar on his arm and think he’s probably telling the truth.  “Wow, he looks good.  How old is he?”  Keri pulls him up on her mobile phlebotomy handheld and you see he was born in 1975.  Damn.  20 years older than you.

Before you and Keri can gush further about Joel, the front door slams shut, echoing throughout the center and catching everyone off-guard.  You watch as one of the younger regular donors, Cedric, storms past Reception and the donor waiting area over to the Donor Floor front desk, near where you checked Joel’s veins earlier.  He practically spits your name, his brows pinched in a rage.

“Cedric, is everything alright?”  You ask, approaching the front desk slowly.  The once-noisy Donor Floor is quiet, save for the quiet whirring and clicking of the machines.  Donors not wearing headphones are anxiously watching the front desk.  You give Cedric the once-over and notice that his arm wrap is soaked with blood, and some of it has gotten on his white shirt and shorts and the floor around him.  First rule of donating: Never wear white to a plasma center, dude.

“Does it fucking look alright?  My arm wasn’t wrapped right and now I have blood everywhere!”  he fumes.  The entire Donor Floor is watching, including Joel and poor Blake, who must’ve disconnected Cedric.  Blake approaches tentatively, tail between his legs, but you put your hand up to him, saying I’ll take care of this.  Blake gives you a thankful nod and tiptoes back to his section.

“Cedric, I’m sorry about that.  Come over to the sink and I’ll rewrap it for you,” you say, putting a fresh pair of gloves on.  “Keri, can you clean up the blood spots with bleach, please?”  You ask.  She nods and grabs a Clorox bottle near the front desk, putting her face shield on and quickly walking around Cedric to search for the path of blood droplets.  Cedric raises his voice again.

“Not good enough.  I need that kid fired for his incompetence!” he points aggressively at Blake, flinging some blood droplets on the arm of your coat and on the front desk.

“Everybody makes mistakes, Cedric.  Blake is a great employee.  We can fix this.  Let’s get you cleaned up, and maybe we can compensate you a little extra on your next donation,” you offer.  But Cedric isn’t having it.  He rips off the arm wrap and gauze and throws them at you while screaming expletives.  The bloodied wrap nearly hits your face shield.  Oh, hell no.  He’s a long-term donor, so he’s probably clean, but it’s too close for comfort.

“Blake, call Trina and call the cops.  Get this guy out of here.  Cedric, don’t ever come back to this place,” you calmly instruct, walking backwards to find a biohazard container a safe distance from Cedric, never turning away from him.  Trina, your manager, doesn’t put up with this kind of stuff and will make sure he’s permanently deferred.

“Fuck you, bitch!”  Cedric yells, sprinting out of the center with two fingers on his free hand holding his venipuncture site, some blood dripping underneath.  Once the front door slams shut, you turn around and take off all your PPE and toss it in the biohazard container, saving your nametag and pen.  Frustrated and tired, you walk to the sink to wash your hands.  Keri and Trina approach you.

“You alright, hon?” Trina asks.  She’s a good manager, always looking out for her employees.  She used to work on the Donor Floor, so she’s no stranger to these kinds of mishaps.  Tensions can be hefty in this area – some donors are desperate for money, some fear needles more than death itself, and some are just grumps.  Phlebotomists usually get the brunt of it.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just need to cool off.  I told Blake to call the cops.”  She nods.

“Go ahead.  When the police get here, they’ll want your statement, so I’ll come find you then… I’ll put in the PR now,” she says, giving your arm a supportive squeeze before walking back toward the offices.  You give her a pained smile and look to Keri, equally concerned as Trina.  “Take your afternoon break, love.  I’ll handle everything else,” she says.  “Thanks, Ker.  I’m gonna step in the freezer to cool off and then I’ll go.”  She nods.  You head toward Processing, located at the opposite end of the center.  Processing has two giant walk-in freezers that always maintain temps of -40ºC – great for keeping fresh plasma frozen solid and an instant cool down.

You step in one of the freezers, shutting the heavy door behind you.  You walk over to the fans and stand underneath.  The sweat on your neck and back quickly freezes in its downward track, leaving behind a sting that could soon turn to frostbite.  It doesn’t take long to cool off here, and anybody staying in for longer than a minute is supposed to put on a heavy coat, gloves, and a ski mask.  It’s a popular spot for blistering summer days and after heated interactions like this.  Satisfied with the pink blooming on your fingers and the crunch of your frozen, sweaty hair, you step out of the freezer and make your way outside for your break.

Once at the picnic table at the outdoor employee break area, you do a quick scan for Cedric.  You can see the trails of blood drops leading to and from his car, and an empty space where his car must’ve been parked.  Heaving a sigh of relief, you plop down at the table and massage your temples.  Fuck… glad this day is almost over.

“Sweetheart, you alright?” A soothing, Southern voice rings in your ear and you look up, seeing Joel approach from his truck.  He says your name, surprising you.  Keri must’ve told him it while she was going through the process with him.

You take this moment to return the once-over he gave you earlier.  Twice-over.  His sleeves are still rolled up and you can see his arm wrap.  His jeans crinkle at the hip with each step, his strong, toned quads flexing as each foot contacts the pavement.  You can only imagine what he looks like from behind.  His cowboy boots are worn, the leather cracking around the toes.  He’s probably the type to wear a pair until they crumble to bits.  He walks with a quiet bravado, taking long, smooth strides until he reaches you at the table.

You’ve no doubt you look exhausted.  Though your sweat has frozen, you can feel how frizzy your hair is, especially around your face.  Your eyes sting with fatigue and the skin underneath your eyelids tug downward.  Your throat feels dry and tight, like you might cry soon.  He must notice because the look in his eyes morphs from concern to anger.

“Hi, Joel,” you state, forcing a smile.  “I’m okay.  Not my first rodeo,” you wink, giving him a sarcastic “yee-haw” motion.  He laughs, but his eyes betray him, still showing anger.

“Mind if I sit?” He motions to the spot across from you.

“No, go ahead, but the cops are on their way and who knows if Cedric will be back,” you caution him.  He waves you off.

“That fuckin’ kid don’t scare me, and I saw everythin’ anyway.  I can talk to the cops if you ain’t comfortable,” he says.  He puts his hands on the backs of yours, and you feel another zap in your chest like you did when you first saw him earlier.  You notice now that he doesn’t have a wedding ring.

“Thanks, but you don’t have to.  I’m well versed in this department,” you say, feeling the tears reaching their boiling point.  You do everything you can to keep them in, but one betrays you and falls down your cheek.  Angry that you’re crying in front of Joel, you try to move your hand out from underneath his to wipe the tear, but he beats you to it.

“It’s okay, darlin’.  You did the right thing, stickin’ up for your people,” he soothes, his thumb wiping your tear from your face.  He moves his hand to cup your jaw and swipes his thumb gently over your cheek.  His angry eyes softened back to concerned.

For what feels like an eternity, the two of you stare at each other, exchanging more communication nonverbally than words could ever.  He’s looking at each of your eyes back and forth, and you feel yourself start to get embarrassed under his hot stare.  You try to turn your head away from his gaze, but his hand stops you.  “You’re alright, darlin’, got nothin’ to be ashamed of here,” he says, reading your mind.  You bring your hand up from the table to gently grasp his arm as a sign of appreciation.  His gaze follows and he swallows loudly.

“Thank you,” you say, giving him a genuine, close-lipped smile.  His eyes move to your lips and then quickly dart back to your eyes, like you caught him doing something forbidden.  He removes his hands and stands up, walking over to your side.  He offers a hand to help you up and you accept, letting him pull you to your feet.

“Sorry your first visit back here was so crazy,” you say, and he laughs.  “Hopefully next time it’s not so… exciting.”  He moves his hand up to your shoulder and gives it a quick squeeze before dropping it.  A tingle rips up your spine.

“Oh, I’m sure it will be.”  He gives you that same look that he did earlier, the one where you couldn’t quite figure out what it meant.  This time, though, you think you know exactly what it means.  Your stomach somersaults.

“I’ll see you soon, darlin’.  Hopefully your day gets better,” he says, turning to walk toward his truck.  Once he gets to the driver’s side door, he turns to look at you again and pauses.  You stand and stare at him, wanting to say something in return, but too overwhelmed by all your emotions.  He smiles and gets in the truck, starting it and driving off while watching you with a small wave.  You smile as he leaves.

Fuck.

Next Chapter

[joelswritingmistress]

Last Halloween: Chapter 31

Summary: After a tragedy involving Joel happened on Halloween one year prior, the town now shuns him while ignoring the details of the now closed case. You are seemingly the only one to offer empathy to a man the town is making out to be a monster.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

The passing of time began to heal the wounds that had been bestowed on you and Joel. Despite some initial reluctance, you agreed to talk to a therapist about being kidnapped by Vic and all that took place before and after. Joel had talked you into it, and agreed to go, himself.

By the summer, you felt almost back to normal; and those wounds turned into scars. Never forgotten, but no longer the focal point of your pain.

You passed the last of your practicals and exams. The final course you finished that summer and by the fall you had your nursing degree as planned.

It was October 1st when you handed your three closest girlfriends your last lump sum of money for the monthly rent on the house you had been renting together. It was bittersweet. The four of you had had so much fun through your mid twenties in that house, and waking up to share laughs and have coffee were the little moments you would miss so dearly.

"You're only moving six minutes down the road," Jessie reminded you, when the two of you cried together, complete with seemingly contradictory smiles.

"I know." You dried your eyes. "But.. I just.. I'm so happy but this is-"

"The end of Act One in your story and the beginning of Act Two." Jessie pulled you in for a long hug. "And this is where the friendships grow stronger, and the real depth comes in."

You sighed. Her words made you cry a little more before you finally got it together and bid a temporary farewell to your friend. The four of you already had a plan to go out the following Friday night and that was solace enough for the time being.

The very bright light at the end of the tunnel was Joel. Once you parted from Jessie, you sped over to Joel's street with your car full of all of your belongings. Your heart was letting you know how full it was from the constant thudding in your chest. It picked up the closer you got and felt like exploding when you pulled down the private driveway.

As promised, Joel sat on his front porch waiting for your arrival. One year later and he still made you swoon. The site of him still made butterflies flutter around in your midsection.

When you parked the car and popped open the driver's side door, you smiled wide as he approached with a key dangling between his fingers. You almost couldn't believe this was really happening.

"Welcome home." Joel smiled just as wide. The two of you couldn't take your eyes off one another and you pulled him in by the collar of his flannel shirt to leave a long, meaningful kiss on his lips.

"I love you," you breathed into his mouth.

"I love you, too." He brushed his nose against yours and you kissed again before accepting the key from him.

"I can't believe I live here now."

Joel kept you close. "Maybe one day I'll get you that cabin in the woods, but I thought this would do for now."

You shook your head and nodded toward the house behind him. "This is home."

He pecked your lips once more. "Come on." He pulled you by the hand and the two of you began to unload the car.

You were on cloud nine. Each box you brought inside made the move feel more permanent. When you unpacked the box that had your Bluetooth speaker in it, you plopped it on the little end table by one of the couches and put on one of your many playlists.

"Bob Dylan," Joel nodded in approval as the first song began to play. "Nice."

You smiled at him as he hauled another box in over shoulder. The two of you went through it together, finding a permanent home for your things. While you didn't want to impose on Joel's space, he was overly accommodating.

"It's our space now," Joel reminded you three or four times.

You stuck your toothbrush in the slot next to his. Joel cleared out more than half of the closet space for clothes. You laid out your boots, shoes and sandals.

When all of the bins and boxes were finally empty, you made your way back downstairs, welcomed by the infamous pipes of Sheryl Crow's Strong Enough, you finally reached for your car keys, and the single, gold key you had placed beside it; the one Joel had given to you.

As you picked it up between your fingers, Joel crept in behind you and kissed down your neck. You moaned lightly with a smile and closed your eyes.

"Mmm.." you let out a deep exhale through your nose. "So, this is my life now, huh?" You sunk back against him.

"As long as you want it to be," Joel whispered, as his hand snaked up the bottom of your shirt.

You turned around and Joel met you halfway in a smoldering kiss, one that you had been wanting to give him all afternoon. For the rest of the night you didn't take your hands off of him. Moving in together had turned you into a feral, needy woman.

When the two of you finally laid in bed, breathing heavy but otherwise quiet, you stated aloud. "I live here."

Joel began to chuckle, guiding you to lay partially on his chest. "You live here."

You sighed contently again, listening to his heart beating rapidly in his chest with your arm slunk across his abdomen. "Imagine if I had never offered you that free coffee that night."

"What's meant to be will always be." Joel played with your hair. "But I'm glad you did." He added, "You're a brave woman. I owe you my life. You gave it back to me."

"All I want from you is to share it with me."

Joel kissed the top of your head and the two of you laid contently for a long while, talking about life, the future, and what was to come. You both intentionally left out the past. It was the easiest way to fall asleep peacefully.

When the next morning rolled around, you felt refreshed. It was like leaving a great dream only to awaken to a better one - one with Joel beside you. Permanently. Every day. For as long as you both could stand to be around one another. In your mind, that meant forever.

You smiled at him sleeping there and swung your legs off the edge of the bed before tiptoeing out of the room so you wouldn't wake him. As much as you wanted to lay there all morning with Joel, you also wanted to surprise him.

Despite it being your first formal night as a resident at the Miller house, you knew your way around the kitchen. And so you went about whipping up pancakes, setting the coffee pot and gathering the syrup, butter and chocolate chips you happened to find in one of the cabinets.

You hesitated before retrieving a long rectangular box wrapped in candy corn wrapping paper from your jacket pocket by the front door and left it by Joel's unmade plate.

Before you could go see if he was awake, your eyes lifted to meet his as he strolled into the kitchen. Joel pulled a long-sleeved tshirt down over boxers and you couldn't help but smile at his head of messy hair.

A smile crept on his face. "It smells amazing down here."

"Thought I'd surprise you on our first official morning living together." You smiled back and retrieved a glass dish filled with pancakes and placed them in the center of the table.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." The two of you sat down at the table and Joel raised his coffee mug to you. "To many more cups of coffee together first thing in the morning."

You giggled and reached for your cup, tapping it gently against his. "To many, many, many more."

Joel took a sip, smacking his lips together with an appreciative sigh and then eyed the little box by his silverware. He smirked and reached for it. "What's this?"

You felt your stomach knot up and folded your hands on top of the table. "You'll uh.. you'll have to open it."

Joel's eyes squinted in playful suspicion but he still smirked as he tore open the corner of the tiny package. "I didn't even know they made candy corn wrapping paper," he commented, glancing up at you with a wider grin.

You flashed him a closed-mouth smile and waited as he removed the small, white box from the paper. His eyes met yours a final time before he opened the box and stared down at the contents inside.

A quiet exhale escaped your lips as you waited for Joel's reaction. Those next few seconds felt like hours.

"This is, um.. is this what I think it is?" He looked right at you now motioning down toward the box. A wide smile spread on his face, "I mean it's not a positive Covid test, right?"

You managed a light laugh but ultimately the gravity of the situation held you firmly in place. "No, it's not a Covid test."

Joel chuckled to himself and brought a hand across his mouth for a second, before running it across his beard. His eyebrows raised and he reached for the rectangular stick in the box.

"Tell me." He stared intensely across the table at you.

Your bottom lip dropped away from your top one and you hesitated. You weren't sure why but it was such a powerful, permanent set of words to string together. When Joel couldn't contain a smile, it gave you enough confidence to spit the words out with a little, timid shrug of your shoulders.

"I'm pregnant."

"Really?" He asked as if he didn't believe it, rising to his feet. Joel made his way toward you.

You nodded and rose to your feet, feeling completely content and at ease in his arms as he hugged you. The warmth that often radiated from him transferred into you and you closed your eyes as his hand moved up and down your back.

It felt as if Joel didn't want to let you go, and you didn't mind. You smiled to yourself when he kissed your forehead before edging his back an inch or two so you were face-to-face.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

You nodded and smiled back at him. "Yeah. Are you?"

"Yeah." He chuckled, making you laugh and you shared a long, closed-mouth kiss. "I'm going to be a dad." The words came out almost like a question. You were sure the shock of the moment hadn't fully registered yet.

"You're going to be a great dad."

A lopsided smile still lingered on his face. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped and shook his head. When he couldn't find the words, you pulled him back in for a hug and he melted against you.

After a minute or so, Joel finally said. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

He picked you up off the ground and spun you in a circle, making you giggle again. When your feet were back on the ground, Joel put a hand on his head and you saw a dampness in his eyes.

"Don't," you said with a laugh, "I made it this long without crying."

"Sorry," he said with a laugh as a tear streaked his face. "Fuck. I'm the man, I shouldn't be crying."

"That's an outdated take," you told him with a laugh, as he dried his face with his hands.

"I know." He chuckled and then dropped down to his knees in front of you, lifting the shirt to expose your stomach. Despite there being no obvious indications of your pregnancy, Joel placed a hand over your abdomen and then left a single kiss just below your belly button.

You cradled his head against you as he placed the side of his face against the area and hugged around your waist.

"We're going to have our own little family," Joel acknowledged allowed.

"Yeah." You ran your fingers through his hair.

"What do you think, five kids?" He joked, making you laugh as he rose back to his feet.

"Maybe seven or eight," you teased back, accepting a series of kisses from him.

"I love you," Joel said again, tucking hair behind you ear. "Really. I loved you right away. Last year, a week into this, I knew this was something that comes once in a lifetime."

You had tears in your eyes now. "I knew it too. And now you finally get your happily ever after."

"So do you."

@untamedheart81 @amyispxnk @grogusmum @ghostwritesthings @strawbunnyx @ayamenimthiriel @noisynightmarepoetry @jiminstinypinky @tuquoquebrute @pedr0swh0r3 @runningmom94 @mellymbee @shayna-d-clown @bbiophiliaa @theclassicvinyldragon @tiffanypooh @mandijo17 @poodlebae @purple-fig @vabeachazn

[starrgaziinggg]

SMAU | UNDERCOVER JYP-U

chapter 24 -> 3RACHA slays (written 4k words)

directory | next chapter ->

JYP-Universities annual charity week finale was always an event of grandeur. All classes were called off for the day - not only to celebrate the end of charity week, but as a prelude to the upcoming mid semester exams. Craft and food stalls were always set up around the campus grounds, which led to almost every student being outside during the day; eating and drinking with their friends.

That's what last years charity week finale looked like for you. Your friend group had spent the whole day together, from shopping around the stalls to drinking together before attending the night events. The night was always the best part - the uni always hosted a small concert, which ended in a fireworks display and celebrations that usually lasted until the early hours of the next morning.

This year would be different, though. Since you were on the student body, you had to attend your weekly meeting, in which you counted up what you'd made for the week and made an announcement. This was bound to take a couple hours out of your afternoon, but since the days events were all pre planned and you could enjoy them without student body stress, you didn't mind.

Plus, the concert for this years finale event was none other than 3RACHA themselves, which meant you had to get front row spots. The boys had been preparing for it in advance and as nervous as they were to perform for a venue as big as your university's outdoor auditorium, you knew how excited they were.

"Are you ready?" You hear Chae call, knocking on your bedroom door a couple times before coming in. There was one other reason the finale was going to be different from last years, and that was because you were nervous as hell. As much time as you and Hyunjin had spent together over the week, he hadn't asked you out. Which meant you were being held to your promise of asking him out. Tonight.

"Almost," you reply, sleepily trying to perfect your makeup. The week had all but drained you; after helping Ryujin and Lia during their event, running your own event and attending classes in between, you were really starting to feel the effects of having so much on your plate.

You finally finish, placing down the brush you were holding and turning to Chae for approval, blinking at her. She grins, digging through your drawer and pulling out a pallet. She tells you to close you eyes and places a sparkly colour in your inner corners.

"Perfect. Now you don't like you've had an hour of sleep," she smiles, letting you check in the pallettes mirror. You roll your eyes with a smile. "You ready to go? The girls are waiting to leave."

"Yup," you reply, grabbing your jacket off your door handle and shrugging it over your shoulders. Ryujin, Lia and Yuna are waiting in the living area, the three of them the epitome of bundles of joy. You didn't blame them, since the charity week finale got everyone hyper.

"Ready?" Ryujin asks, jumping up off the couch to give you a side hug. You nod in response as the girls start heading outside. Your plan was to look round the stalls on campus and then grab lunch with guys before you, Yuna, Ryujin and Lia have to go to the meeting.

Campus is all hustle and bustle like you expected, the courtyard littered with adorable stalls selling all sorts with students (and non students who attend the event) all over the place. The five of you look round each stall, conversing with the people running them and picking up pieces here and there. Whilst Yuna has both arms full of bags by the time you're certain you've left no stall untouched, you opted for a couple cute nicknacks and home bakes.

The guys are sprawled out on the grassy area, having already picked up your food. Chan, Changbin and Jisung are absent, which you pin down to concert practice, but all the other guys are eating, sunbathing and chatting. You were more than thankful the sunshine was still out mid October, a cool breeze making the warm day bearable.

"Look what the cat dragged in," Minho drawls when you girls make your descent onto the picnic blankets they've laid out, Yuna dumping her many shopping bags and making a beeline for the burrito Jeongin had gotten her. You can't help but hug Minho when you see him, still feeling awful about missing the signs of his injury and having seen very little of him since he'd started taking his schoolwork more seriously.

"Yeah yeah, nice to see you too," he laughs, hugging you back before you flop onto the blanket next to him. You give him a sheepish grin and turn to Felix.

"A little birdie told me you made brownies," you tilt your head at him, grinning wider when he rolls his eyes whilst handing you a tub full of goodies. Picking one out, you hand the tub back and dig in.

It's peaceful, sitting round all your friends with the sun shining down on you, catching up with the dull noise of commotion in the background. It makes you forget, just for a while, about that stupid account and all the shit they were stirring. Tired from walking round the stalls, you girls all lie down lazily, making yourselves comfortable.

Lia sits with Seungmin as he reads a book absentmindedly, whilst Yuna and Chae force Jeongin to make room on his blanket. Ryujin dumps herself in front of you, placing her head in the basket you'd made with your legs.

"I can't wait for 3RACHA's performance later," Lia says after a while, picking a grape out of the tub and popping it into her mouth as she reads the page Seungmin's on. "I've never heard them before."

"They're pretty good," Hyunjin replies from where he sits playing cards with Minho. "Ji said they're playing a lot of new songs too."

"You guys are lucky you can enjoy them perform without having had put up with every one of their pre-release performances," Felix laughs, being the one that Changbin, Ji and Chan always made watch their practices since he was the easiest to persuade. "I swear I almost went deaf from how much I listened to them practice."

"Yeah, sure," Ryujin tilts her head at Felix from beside you. "Do you remember back in the day when Ji made us and Jeongin listen to every single one of his songs and decide if they were worthy of soundcloud or not?"

Felix laughs at the memory, as does Jeongin, the two of them reminiscing from their times back in their hometown with Jisung and Ryujin.

"God, some of them were awful," Jeongin joins in, throwing his head back with giggles. "Wasn't there one song where he just consistently swore for two minutes straight?"

"Yeah, 'Fucker' was the title," Ryujin cackles, starting to play with the hem of your top absentmindedly. "I'm glad we persuaded him not to post that one."

"Sometimes I wish we'd all grown up together," Yuna says with a pout, which Hyunjin nods at. He wins the round of snap he was playing with Minho and gives him a shit eating grin, flashing you a smile in the process. You can't help but break the eye contact sheepishly.

"I don't think I'd have been able to put up with you lot for this long," Minho huffs, abandoning his game with Hyunjin after his consecutive losses.

"I second that," Seungmin grins, pausing from reading his book to chime in. He sends you a smirk which you stick your tongue out at. Nothing had really come from the news of his dad, other than that his dads situation was now a hot topic of conversation. Rumours were spreading like wildfire as they always did at your university, and you'd heard some pretty crazy accusations.

Perhaps the one that startled you the most was that Seungmin's dad had gotten into debt after spending all his money on drugs and had to set up a company as a ruse for his money laundering and hide his addiction. Seungmin had informed you that was far off the truth, and that he'd made an insane amount of money from dirty gambling and passed it over as money that had derived from his company, which had landed him 5 years in custody.

Seungmin didn't seem overly affected by it all, but that was just how he was. He focused on his studies and blocked out anything that could come in between his aspirations. You admired him for that.

"Nah, it would have been nice to have you guys back in the day. Putting up with Lix, Ji and Ryujin would have been much easier," Jeongin sighs, rubbing his arm when Ryujin sends a light punch his way.

"We were the ones that put up with you and your scrawny ass," Ryujin laughs, rolling her eyes when Jeongin mimics her. You tap your phone screen to display the time, groaning out loud when it's almost time for your meeting.

"Crunch time?" Jeongin says when he notices your dismay, you nod, starting to pack up your things. The others stay sprawled out on the grass, waving a good bye to the student body members as you all make your way to the meeting room. When you get there, however, Chan and Jisung are not in their usual places and welcoming everyone.

"Wonders never cease," Ryujin laughs as the two of you take your seats, nudging her arm into yours. You roll your eyes when Jeongin grins.

"I'm holding this against Chan for the rest of his sorry life," he says manically, rubbing his hands together with an evil smile. "He's never allowed to complain about me being late again."

It's that moment when Chan and Changbin rush into the room, sweaty and disgruntled. They flop onto their seats, Changbin instantly resting his head on the table.

"Sorry guys," Chan says instantly, wiping his brow. "We've been rehearsing all day and we lost track of time."

"Despicable behaviour," Jeongin tuts instantly, his blonde hair swaying with his motions, which Yuna snorts at.

"You guys prepared for tonight?" You ask them, failing to hide your smile. Changbin lifts his head to nod at you with a grin.

"Oh yeah," He says, drawing out the end of his words. "It's gonna be epic, trust."

"Anyway," Chan interrupts, pushing his damp strands out of his face. "Lets get this over with quickly so we can all get prepared for tonight. The money is here, in this box, separated into each event's earnings. You'll each count for your own event, Yuna you can help Jeongin, and then we'll add up the total."

You all get to work quickly, wanting to be thorough but also finish up with this as as soon as you could. In the back of your mind, all you were thinking about was getting ready and the night you had ahead of you. It was hard to look Hyunjin in the eyes on a normal day, that handsome face and dark eyes oh so intimidating, but knowing you were going to confess to him - the thought alone sent chills down your spine.

It takes you all two hours to properly count the money and add it all together and as it turns out you've skyrocketed past last years total. Chan is over the moon, as are your University superiors when he tells them the news.

"This is insane," Lia grins when Chan heads out to get the camera to film the video youd be posting online to reveal the total. She looks up at you with a grin. "It's so cool that you guys do this every year."

"It's like a win win for everyone," Yuna shrugs, reciprocating Lia's infectious smile. "We get to have a week of fun before mid sem exams, and we raise a tonne for charity. Plus it just puts everyone in a good mood."

"Honestly, I'd totally forgotten about that dumb account and all that crap this week," Jeongin adds, joining your conversation and leaning against the back of your chair. "I feel like reality's gonna crash down on me next week though."

"Well," Ryujin tilts her head at the younger boy. "Don't worry about that yet. We've got the rest of the night to watch the guys perform, get drunk and have fun."

"Do you know how many people are coming to watch, Changbin?" Yuna asks, and he shrug his shoulders.

"No idea honestly, but I hope it's a good few. Would be shit to play for an empty crowd."

You scoff, raising your eyebrows. "Are you kidding? You guys have been blowing up recently, I'm certain the auditorium is gonna be packed."

He smiles at your words, and you're glad that the two of you could get past what happened a couple weeks ago. You hated anything coming in between your friendships.

When Chan returns, he makes Yuna and Jeongin be the faces of the video since he and Changbin looked like ass. They were more than happy to oblige, and after another half an hour of Jeongin messing up his words the video was filmed. It was Ryujin's job to edit it, which only took her ten minutes, and with that the video was posted to the Universities account.

It blew up almost instantaneously, and your student body group huddled around Chan's phone watching the replies fly through. It was a great feeling, watching something you'd worked so hard at be successful.

You all peeled off soon after in great moods, heading back to your dorms to get ready for the nights events. With how nervous you were, even after Yuna made you do shots with her, you were surprised you could get ready at all. Your hands were shaking so much you had to wipe mascara off of your eyelids three times.

After another hour and a half of getting ready, the guys came over to hurry you girls up and chill in your dorm. When you've finally decided you can't perfect your makeup, hair and outfit any more, you take a deep breath before leaving your bedroom.

Minho comes through from your kitchen armed with drinks, so you take one before flopping on the sofa beside Seungmin. Hyunjin sends you a smile, which instantly sends you butterflies and makes you look away bashfully. You had no idea how you'd manage to get through the night with him until you confessed your feelings.

"Okay, since you girls took six years to get ready we need to leave in, like, now," Seungmin says, checking the time on his phone as punctual as ever.

"Down those drinks," Felix winks, which you oblige to, scooping the vodka concoction Minho had assembled before grabbing your belongings and following your entourage of friends. The streets of your university's campus are still bustling, and you could assume that people were starting to head back to their dorms to do a quick outfit change before the night time activities as you had all done.

Luckily, there were only a few people around the outdoor stage area as the set didn't start for another while, so your friend group politely nudged their way right to the front. You stood by Jeongin and Chae, deep into a discussion about whether Jisung would forget his lyrics or not. Another couple of bottles down and the place was packed. There were people stood as far as your eye could see, almost all of them people you didn't recognise.

It didn't surprise you that so many people had showed up to watch your friends perform, since they hadn't stopped growing in popularity since they had started to release their music. You even overhead a group of girls behind you gush about how hot Chan was, which made Jeongin snort and gag beside you.

The lights on the stage lit up, and the crowd interrupted into cheers as soon as one of 3RACHA's most famous songs started playing and one by one the boys came on stage to sing their parts. Of course, you and your friends screamed the loudest, singing along to every word and making sure to record the whole set.

In a break between songs, you feel someone's presence behind you and turn to find Hyunjin grinning down at you.

"They're amazing, right?" He shouts in your ear over the noise, and you nod whilst smiling back at him. "There's gotta be a couple thousand people here at least."

"It's insane," you reply, pulling him closer so he'd be able to hear you. 3RACHA's flurry of fan girls had lungs of steel. "I'm so proud of them, I could cry."

He doesn't say anything in response except tilts his head with a half smile, his dimple making an appearance. When the boys announce it's their final song there's a collective groan of sadness from the audience, but they jump right into it. All the while, Hyunjin is behind you, singing along, a hand placed gently on your shoulder.

Of course, you all manage to coax then into an encore. They play a lesser known song, but one of your favourites, and you have to refrain from screaming the lyrics alongside them. When Chan announces their departure, your friends turn to each other as people start to disperse.

"That was fucking incredible," Felix sighs contentedly, a huge smile on his face. "They're gonna be so big one day."

"When they played their most famous song I swear everyone sang it word for word," Yuna gushes, fawning over her talented friends. Minho and Seungmin merge over, and you feel Hyunjin take his hand away from your shoulder to talk to them. You hadn't even noticed it was still there, so accustomed to the feeling.

"So what's the plan? Wait for the guys and then head to the courtyard?" Minho asks, dad mode on as usual to sort the plan of action. You nod, since the courtyard would be lively with people drinking until the firework display started. You could already hear the music blasting over the speaker system.

You all spent the next hour mingling with mutual friends and drinking the day away. Chan, Changbin and Ji joined you all after taking a shower and getting ready, and there was a collective holler throughout everyone in the vicinity. You hugged them all, congratulating them on their first big concert, and they were gleaming the whole time.

"Did u see them? There were two chicks who screamed every lyric to every song," Jisung awes at you, pretending to swoon. "I think I'm having a subtle aneurism."

"Fuck subtle," Changbin adds, taking a swig of his beer. "I'm having a full on attack of some kind. Is this real life? Jeong, pinch me."

The younger boy does just that with an evil grin plastered to his face. Changbin doesn't even bat an eyelid when he pinches him as hard as he can, just nods once.

"Nope, I really felt that. All real."

You shake your head with a laugh at them, smiling as Yuna comes up behind you and wraps her arms around your shoulders.

"Fireworks are starting in ten," she hums in your ear, placing a kiss on your cheek. "You nervy?"

"Major nerve," you reply truthfully, turning down your eyebrows at her with a queasy smile. "Are you sure about this?"

Yuna looks personally attacked from your words. "Bitch? Hyun hasn't stopped staring at you all night. Did you see you guys together at the concert? Ryujin took a picture."

Your eyes widen as Yuna pulls Ryujin over, muttering for her to show you the picture. When it's on the screen, you can't help your insides when they melt. Hyunjin has his arm wrapped around you, the two of you with smiles plastered on your faces as you watch the performance.

"If you don't think that boys obsessed with you, I think you need a psychoanalysis," Ryujin smirks, taking her phone back. "Cmon, time to face the music."

You allow the two girls to drag you away as they chat your ear off about how excited they are for you. To be honest, the photo Ryujin had showed you really put your mind at ease about Hyunjin’s feelings for you, and that paired with the alcohol in your system was making you certain you could get through this night.

The fireworks started almost as soon as your group had reached the perfect spot, and the sky lit up in flashes of pink, yellow and blue. As much as you didn’t really agree with the nature of fireworks, you had to admit they were beautiful.

A couple minutes of awing at the scene in front of you and you could see Ryujin’s anticipation. Finding some nerve, you look around to find the man of the hour, except you can’t see him.

“Hi,” he says, shocking you out of your system as you whip round and see Hyunjin’s mess of blonde hair standing beside you.

“Jesus, you scared me,” you chuckle nervously, turning when another firework goes off and the noise fills your ears.

“Sorry,” he laughs in response. “I just, if I don’t do this now I don’t know if I’ll ever find the courage again.”

You scrunch your eyebrows up in confusion, tilting your head. “Huh?”

He takes a deep breath, looking from your eyes to the firework behind you. “I’ve liked you for a really long time. Longer than you’d probably think, and I’ve been too much of a pussy to say anything to you about it.” He says, looking back at you with a nervous half smile. He runs a hand through his hair sheepishly. “You’re so beautiful, and kind, and as much as I hate to admit it I’m so in awe of you and your talent. I don’t know if you still hate me or whatever, but -”

You can’t help but breathe out a sigh of relief, chuckling at his words. He raises his eyebrows.

“What?” He asks, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“Of course I don’t hate you. I really, really like you. In fact, I was plucking up the courage to tell you that right now, but you beat me to it,” you smile at him, watching his frown flip upwards.

“Really?” He asks seriously, his dimple showing from his grin. “So, you’d liked to go out with me? I mean like, go on proper dates, we don’t need to be girlfriend boyfriend yet - just more than friends?”

You can help but smile at the normally cool, put together Hyunjin stumbling over his words. You nod, unable to help yourself from looking at his lips. He takes this as a sign, trying to hide his smile as he places a hand gently on your cheek and leans in.

He manages to place the most gentle kiss on your lips until he break away, evidently shocked by the chorus of hollers and cheers from your friend group, Ryujin holding her camera with an evil grin. You shake your head with a smile, feeling like your back in high school, as Hyunjin swings an arm over your shoulders to guide you back to the group.

The rest of the night passes by in a gleeful blur, the effects of all the alcohol you’d drank during the day finally catching up to you and sending you into sleep delirium. The girls are much in the same boat, which leads you to head back to your dorm together an hour or two after the fireworks finish. The events had started to die down anyway, and the guys were shattered too.

They all walked you girls home, of course, with Hyunjin sneaking a kiss (against Jeongin’s gags of protest), before promising to text you in the morning. Yuna, as usual, falls fast asleep in your bed as soon as her head hits the pillow, which leaves you grinning up at your ceiling, reminiscing over the days events until you’re finally overcome by sleep.

tag list

@cursed-mars-bars @https-skzology @imasimplol @hyunverse @aestaeticous @dorisnumber1fan @tasteskz-sword @amnmich @detectivedoodle @amara-mars @end0rchans @raresevng @thementallyunhinged @nhyunn @lixie-phoria @llavendarlilacc @beomgyusonlywife @seolarpower @celestial-shay @heavensheadbitch @thoughtsfromthebackofmybrain @cuddlethebear @gabrielle-tea @weird-bookworm @ceelestic @worcesheshestershiresauce @hyuneyeon @downbadreading @where-is-innie @its-hannjisung @uno7 @weird0o0 @sxhxnax @seungfleur @moretinyideas

Im back. This is the grand return. I deeply apologise for my ridiculous absence on this app but here I am. And I have a lot of story ideas!!! So pls bear with me heheh. Enjoy 🫶🏻🫶🏻

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

I'm looking for the fic called Claws and Paws by PickingViolets. Could you please help me find the PDF?

Here are the pdf/epub we have for this author - does anyone have the fic @rebelstar973 wants? Thanks ~Jen

A Fresh Start [Epub] [PDF]

Blaine, a nurse, fresh from a bad marriage, is looking to start a new life for him and his daughter. Kurt, a doctor, is dealing with his own struggles as a single dad. Meeting in the emergency room late one night can provide more healing than either thought possible.

The Honeymoon of Dr. Kurt and Nurse Blaine [Epub] [PDF]

Silence Is Golden (one shot) [Epub] [PDF]

All We Ever Wanted (sequel) [Epub] [PDF]

~~~~~~~~~~

Heteroflexible [Epub] [PDF]

One night with another guy. Just one night. It won’t actually mean anything, right? He’s just… heteroflexible.

Surprise! It’s a Disaster (one shot) [Epub] [PDF]

~~~~~~~~~~

Camp Arborwood [Epub] [PDF]

Kurt is seriously lacking when it comes to extracurriculars for his college applications. Camp counselor is going to look great. Now, if he can just survive the summer. A fun-loving, curly-haired co-worker will make the summer more than survivable though. It might just be downright amazing!

~~~~~~~~~~

Keeping Warm on the Prairie [Epub] [PDF]

It’s the mid to late 1800’s. Kurt and Blaine are pioneers in Dakota Territory. Life is hard, struggling to survive the bitter prairie winters. Struggling to accept their feelings in an era where unconventional relationships are scorned is even harder. They are forced to confront those feelings when they are stuck together during a blizzard, depending on each other to survive.

~~~~~~~~~~

Loving You Just The Way You Are [Epub] [PDF]

Nothing in Kurt’s life is as he expected… but he’s unbelievably happy. What will happen when his world is shattered and all he loves is either taken away or broken? A story of love, healing, acceptance and triumph.

~~~~~~~~~~

That inward eye, which is the bliss of solitude [Epub] [PDF]

“I will remind you,” Blaine spoke in a low voice. “Anything you want to know, anything you’ve forgotten… I will tell you. I have taken care of you for over fifty years, Kurt. I’m not going to stop now.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Happy One-Shot Month: Battling The Angst [Epub] [PDF]

All one-shots. All of your prompts. All designed in an attempt to keep you smiling through the Klaine drama that October promises to be. Rated M for safety, but all chapters are rated separately in the notes. (26K)

[kumabeom]

anti romantic

chapter 23 : come n’ kiss me, i just keep on chasing that feeling

synopsis : anti romantic, college student choi yeonjun who thinks he’s seen everything in a relationship, promising himself that he won’t go through another relationship ever again to prevent himself from going through another heartbreak. that was until he sees yn, a classmate, chasing his heart. will his walls be enough to scare yn away, or will they continue chasing yeonjun with all they have ?

©️kumabeom

taglist : @soobadooba @beoms-sugar @yxnjvnnie @myahfig4 @sato-chan-2709 @yourbeomiebear @run2seob @destairea @lol6sposts @cutesince2000 @forever-in-the-sky2 @soobs-things @soobinsman @mackjestic @ameliabs-world @mochijjunie @hyuneyeon @jakevascaino @jesssssmaybankk @moa4lifeee @theblueslytherin @k1t0

an: the finale is coming soon 🤭🤭 also soogyu ☺️☺️ kinda sad that anti romantic is coming to an end so soon- but i never intended to make this a long smau, so so so grateful for all the support that i’ve been getting throughout this time. it’s crazy thinking ab how anti romantic started in august and now it’s mid october 😟😟 like i remember coming back home from chicago after seeing txt at lolla and noticing the immense support that i received from just the prologue, i knew i had to get writing as soon as possible !! love all of my readers sm 💖☺️

[sissylittlefeather]

This is the Story

Chapter 4

A/N: This is another short one but it's because I think the next one will be nice and long for you. ICYMI this is the one with the author OC Grace Dubois, single mom of 6yo Wendy. If you'd like to catch up, here are links to the other chapters:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Warnings: some slight angst, talk of divorce, kissing, still not too steamy but minors don't fall in love with this one. Next chapter promises some smut!

Song inspo (which I learned today is from Viva Las Vegas 😂)

Grace stares at the way he signed the note: Yours.

If only.

******

Grace continues going up to Graceland daily to listen to Elvis talk about his life for the book. They make it through his time in the army and start talking about his early film career. He loves to talk about the first five or six movies, but gets quieter as they continue to talk. It's clear that he's avoiding saying what he really thinks when they get into the mid '60s.

On October 10th, she knocks on the door and Jerry answers. She's surprised to see that it's him instead of Elvis. He normally answers himself when he knows she's coming.

"Hey Ms. Dubois. Today may not be the best day for you to meet with him."

"Why? What happened?"

"Is that Grace?" She hears Elvis call from upstairs.

"Yes, it's me." She calls up to him from the foyer.

"I'm in the office. Come up here, please." Grace looks back to Jerry, who shakes his head and turns to walk away. She walks up the stairs slowly, not sure what she'll find when she gets to the top. Why couldn't he come down and let her in himself?

She walks into the office to find Elvis sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands. His shoulders shake and she realizes he's crying. She drops her bag on the floor and rushes over without thinking, crouching in front of him.

"Oh, Elvis. What happened?"

"You don't read magazines much do you?"

"I don't. Fill me in."

"The divorce was finalized yesterday."

"Oh." He sobs again and she reaches up and pushes his hair back off of his forehead.

"I didn't realize you still cared this much about Priscilla." Somewhere deep inside, her heart sinks a bit.

"No, it's not that. I don't care about that really." She lets out a small sigh of relief.

"What is it then?" Her voice is soft as she continues to push her fingers through the top of his hair.

"I'm worried about Lisa Marie. I never wanted her to have to deal with something like this." His voice catches and he puts his head in his hands again.

"Hey." She looks up from under his hands and tries to catch his eye. "Elvis look at me." He looks up.

"Lisa Marie will be fine. She is well-loved by both you and Priscilla. As long as you continue to love and care for her, which you will, I know you, then she will be fine." He nods slowly as he looks into her eyes.

"And then... my mother... would be so..." he chokes again and sobs. Grace sits next to him on the couch and pulls his head onto her shoulder. He wraps his arms around her and sobs like a child, his shoulders shaking again. She strokes his hair and shushes him softly. Seeing him undone like this is breaking her heart. She wants nothing more than to bring him comfort.

When he slows down his crying, she lifts his head up and looks into his eyes. He still has his arms around her. Without thinking she leans in and kisses his cheek where his tears are on his face. Then, she turns his face and kisses his other cheek. She kisses his forehead slowly and then pulls back to look him in the eye again. Finally, she leans in and kisses his mouth. When her soft lips land on his, his whole body freezes. The shock of what she's done fades as the sparks fly through her, lighting her up like the night sky. She pulls back just a bit and he pulls her body in close to his and kisses her again. More sparks. Electricity. Unintentional heat and something else she can't quite identify. Her heart is pounding so hard, she's pretty sure he can feel it. When he pulls back and goes for a third kiss, this time with his lips parted, she pulls away suddenly.

"No. Elvis, I can't." It feels impossible to stop kissing him, but she has to. He nods his head and puts his forehead on her shoulder. She grabs one of the small pillows from the couch and lets him lean over with his head in her lap and his feet up on the couch. She strokes his hair with her fingernails and hums a quiet, soothing song. Within about ten minutes, he's asleep. She's guessing it's been awhile since he truly rested. After close to an hour of holding him like this, she slips out and lets him lay on the couch. She carefully removes his shoes, kisses his cheek and sneaks out, grabbing her bag as she leaves. Tiptoeing down the stairs, she looks behind her briefly before quietly opening and closing the door behind her.

When she gets back to her car, she finally notices the tears on her face. She's not sure why she's crying, but she is. It was just such an emotionally charged afternoon and seeing Elvis in pain like that really affected her. And the kiss. What was she thinking, kissing him like that? But it just felt so right in that moment. Still, it will be hard to come back from. Maybe she should take a few weeks off. Seeing him everyday seems to be getting to her again.

******

When Elvis finally wakes up on the couch in his office, it's the middle of the night. He sits up slowly, trying to get his bearings. Then, he remembers. Or did he dream it? No, Grace was definitely there earlier. It's the only way he was able to sleep. And she kissed him. He gets a strange pulling sensation in his stomach when he thinks about it and his heart seems to flutter in his chest. She kissed him and then he kissed her and it was good. But then she stopped him. Of course she did. She was just trying to be nice, right? Why did it feel like so much more?

"You okay?" Jerry pokes his head in the office. He's been checking every couple of hours to see if Elvis was awake yet.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just need to go to bed." Jerry nods and Elvis gets up to walk to his bedroom.

"That Grace is really something else, huh?" Jerry says, trying to get a read on how Elvis feels about her.

"Yeah, she is. 'Night, Jerry." He says it quietly before he shuts the door behind him.

******

Grace avoids going to the house for the rest of the week. Elvis calls several times, but she tells him she's sick or has something to do for Wendy's school. The next week comes and Grace realizes she can't keep avoiding him forever, especially not while she's still in Memphis. She considers leaving, but Elvis was so nice to arrange the apartment and Wendy's school that she can't just run away. Also, she has to finish the book whether she wants to or not. She'll have to go back and face him sometime.

She walks up to the house with her heart in her throat. Once she gets to the porch, she stands there for a second with no clue what she will say. When she finally knocks quietly on the door, Elvis answers.

"I was afraid you weren't coming back."

"We still have a book to write."

"Right. Come on in, then." Is it her imagination or does he seem upset? He walks up the stairs in front of her, which is unusual, since he typically follows her. Then, he shuts the office door behind her a little harder than it needs to be shut.

"Elvis, are you angry with me?"

"Why would I be angry? Because you kissed me? Or because you disappeared after?" There's a slight edge to his voice that indicates that he clearly is bothered by something.

"Elvis, I-"

"I know. You're sorry."

"Hey. Will you just talk to me, please?" Grace sits down on the couch, trying not to think of the last time she was sitting there. He's pacing the floor slowly getting more and more worked up. "What is going on?"

"I needed you!" He yells and stops pacing, looking at her intensely. "I needed you and you disappeared." He says the second part quietly, almost as a whisper.

"You needed... me?" She's floored by his confession. This whole time she has been convinced that he was barely tolerating her. And now he says this.

"I don't have a whole lot of people that really listen to me, Grace. I thought... I just thought... it's not important what I thought. I was wrong." The silence hangs heavy between them while she decides whether she should say what she wants to.

"You're not wrong." She looks down at her hands and Elvis sits next to her on the couch.

"I'm not?" She looks up at him and he's searching her face for something to give away what she's feeling.

"No. But you know we can't..." She can tell by the way his face falls that this isn't want he wanted to hear.

"No, you're right." He stands up and goes to sit behind the desk. Grace's heart sinks down into her stomach, but she knows this is the way it has to be. She has Wendy to consider, and she still has to write this stupid book. She sits in the chair across from him.

"I am sorry I disappeared, though. I won't do that again." He nods his head. "We can be... friends..." She says tentatively.

"I'd like that." He continues to look into her eyes, but she looks down at her notebook.

"Now how about you tell me how you really feel about your time in Hollywood." He smiles and leans his head back.

"Well..."

******

Coming Soon: Chapter 5 - Halloween!

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @ashtag6887 @aliypop @your-nanas-house @dkayfixates @everythingelvispresley @xanatenshi @returntopresley @p0lksaladannie @deniseinmn @jaqueline19997 @that-hotdog @mykievolturi @18lkpeters @joshuntildawn13 @rjmartin11

[neutron-stars-collision]

Deadlines & Commitments

Neil x F!Reader

Chapter 4 - North Greenwich Underground Station

Masterlist; Chapter 3 Summary: Neil's brief disappearance does nothing to extinguish the sparks. As he returns, you make a series of discoveries about each other and grow ever so much closer. Warnings: Swearing, E-rated language, ridiculous amounts of flirting as per usual. Buckle up bc we're amping the pace a little... ;) Author's Notes: Well... that was a long break between the chapters 🙈 My apologies, turns out that having a job takes away the little joys in life like writing silly stories. Anyways, here we are, at last. With another 10.7k. And this one's packed with many good, fun things ;))) Some of those scenes had been months in the making (if not years, considering I first mentioned this AU to Shet in like 2021? I think?). So, yeah. They had it long time coming. More cameos, more nonsensical POV changes and, above all, more certified idiocy by them two kids. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think? 💕 Taglist: @hollandorks, @kristevstewart, @stargirl25 (let me know if you want to be added)

What Neil’s departure from London did not do was change the way things worked between you. Although you only had meagre information about his whereabouts (such as that he was within the same time zone but in a different country), there was no sense of a breach building in the space of that strange yet solid connection. With the anxieties surrounding the imminent ‘Don Quixote’ premiere keeping your blood pressure high daily, you more than enjoyed being able to pick up your phone and message him whenever possible.

He did not always respond immediately, but it was not a must. What mattered was that Neil eventually got back to you. Never disclosing any information about his work trip, apart from the fact that it was warm there even in mid-October, he still made the effort to keep up with your antics. In that sense, the insanity of the date you had risked changed absolutely nothing.

But it also changed everything.

It was as if your free will chose to conspire with the soul’s desires to get what they wanted. Namely – Neil. Because as soon as you had even begun considering breaching the line separating friendship from every other kind of relationship, your brain decided it was done.

Being his girlfriend was not on the list of priorities or wants, but getting in his pants definitely was. It was almost freeing to admit.

The only question left after all that soul-searching was whether Neil wanted you like that, too. Sometimes there were no doubts about that, either.

Almost a week in, with the ballet previews looming on the horizon and no chance of sleep anytime soon, you huffed an annoyed sigh and picked up the phone from your bedside table. Bleary eyes registered the hour (five past midnight) as you opened apps randomly, already giving up on the promise of sleep. It took you another few minutes to make up your mind, open the texts and stare at the conversation with Neil. It had been a few hours since the last exchange concerning the warmth of the climate wherever he was. You had been (fruitlessly) trying to make Neil send you a picture. Of himself. Not necessarily without clothes, but that was the dream. And a girl was allowed to dream, right?

Squinting at the screen, you hesitated for another millisecond before typing out the simple question:

/ 🏹, 00:15 am/ Are you missing me yet?

Neil did not make you wait for long.

/✝️, 00:26 am/ Obviously.

/✝️, 00:26 am/ I’m barely coping here, sunshine.

/ 🏹, 00:29 am/ Gee, you’re making it too easy.

/✝️, 00:30 am/ Making what too easy?

/ 🏹, 00:33 am/ Missing you.

/ 🏹, 00:34 am/ See, I thought my cheeky line would get a lukewarm response, so I was prepared to tease you further.

/ 🏹, 00:34 am/ And now I’ve no quips to offer.

/✝️, 00:39 am/ Apologies. I’ll do better next time.

/ 🏹, 00:40 am/ I’ll make sure of that.

/✝️, 00:42 am/ And what punishment do you propose?

/ 🏹, 00:43 am/ I’ve always wondered what you’d sound like if you begged.

/✝️, 00:44 am/ It could probably be arranged.

/✝️, 00:45 am/ I’ve no qualms about getting on my knees for a beautiful woman.

/✝️, 00:45 am/ But that would hardly be a punishment.

/ 🏹, 00:48 am/ Yeah, but if I let you have that and then left you… on your knees, so painfully hard with no release… How would that feel?

/✝️, 00:51 am/ You win this one.

/✝️, 00:52 am/ And yes, I’m blushing. Fiercely.

/ 🏹, 00:59 am/ Good, I was hoping you are. Goodnight, Neil.

As you hit send on the last message, your head hit the pillows with an audible ‘oof’. Your cheeks burned; the blush invisible in the dark yet still very much there. That was the problem with Neil and your chats. It was impossible to say when they would turn in that direction. When you would both lose control and follow a line of conversation that probably never should have happened. Not that you were complaining.

It was good to know what you could expect from Neil. If things happened the way you wished, they would. Admittedly, he’d look good on his knees. That was a fact.

That night you only got five hours of sleep, but who counted it anyway. What mattered was that you had some excellent dreams. Dreams that you hoped would end up prophetic.

On other days, your conversations were a little more serious. Like that early afternoon when you just finished the final in-costume run of the Cupid variation and exited the ROH to wander the streets of Soho. Whenever you felt close to losing your sanity, the walk around those familiar spots always did the trick. It was easier to breathe, to hope that you would not fuck it all up when the curtain call came. To believe that imposter syndrome was nothing more than a vile bitch.

Sighing against the thoughts muddling your brain, you took out the phone and immediately noticed the new message:

/✝️, 1:49 pm/ How’s the garden of the Dryads coming along?

/✝️, 1:50 pm/ It probably goes without saying that you’re my favourite ballerina.

/ 🏹, 2:06 pm/ Damn, that’s high praise. Especially considering that I’m the only ballerina you know.

/ 🏹, 2:06 pm/ I think the garden is coming along nicely. Not so sure about Cupid, tho.

/✝️, 2:08 pm/ I call bullshit on that.

/✝️, 2:09 pm/ I just know that you’re brilliant.

/ 🏹, 2:12 pm/ Doubt, she said.

/ 🏹, 2:12 pm/ ‘Cause like… How do you deal with the overwhelming weight of expectations?

/✝️, 2:18 pm/ I mean, I panic and lose it instantly, but generally speaking, I think you just sort of… ignore it and trust you are good enough.

/✝️, 2:19 pm/ I know that you are, Cupid. This role was made for you.

/ 🏹, 2:22 pm/ Elaborate, please. I need my ego stroked.

/✝️, 2:23 pm/ Well, she sorts of saunters onto the stage and has a minute to dazzle everyone, yeah?

/✝️, 2:24 pm/ Which is exactly what you did to me.

/✝️, 2:24 pm/ You’ve got this.

/ 🏹, 2:26 pm/ God, you’re irreconcilable. Better come back so I can force you to sit through this.

/✝️, 2:27 pm/ Working on it as we speak.

A smile painted itself on your face with an inerasable stroke of brush. Neil’s constant support and cheerleading were a welcome surprise. Sometimes, your meeting almost felt like a divine intervention. That is if you believed in such things. Because the odds of gaining both a fascinating man to pursue and a friend were quite low. And yet.

As you looped your steps back towards Covent Garden, you made the mental note to visit the box office and add a request for the guest list. It was a rare enough event to have someone you could invite to the performance. And have the right to believe they would come. You were not going to squander that sort of chance.

***

The whirring ceiling fan was starting to get on his nerves with its endless sputtering. And it was not even working, as far as Neil was concerned. The sweat still clung to his skin and trickled down his back to a point where he seriously contemplated ditching the shirt. And that rarely happened. Especially not on the job, with the whole squad confined to a medium-sized safehouse.

The bustle of the city streamed through the windows, cracked open so they could let in fresh air while still having a chance of keeping them safe from snipers and the like. Granted, one could never be fully prepared for an inverted shot, but it was worth trying not to get killed. Especially during a mission that technically was just a recon. Though Neil knew better than to believe The Protagonist when the man claimed something was perfectly safe. He meant well, sure. But despite the appearances, he did not know everything.

So, the windows cracked open three inches had to do. Neil sighed, annoyance digging deep beneath his skin to stay there for a little longer. It was another one of those boring, yet technically productive afternoons in the safehouse. Today, the task was to plan a hypothetical pincer movement. Just in case, they said. Well, Neil sure did hope the case never came to be.

He glanced at the blacked-out screen of his phone, the muscle memory betraying him as he picked up the device almost mindlessly and opened the conversation with Cupid. It had been a few hours since the last chat, which was pretty usual. They did not need to talk all the time. Neil knew that. He also knew that it was probably better they did not talk constantly. Considering that 3 out of 5 conversations always ended up dirty, up to the point where he was blushing like an idiot. And, sometimes disappeared in the bathroom to deal with some troublesome effects of those chats.

Yes, considering all that, Neil knew it was best they took some breaks. But also-

“Blondie, can you give us a hand with this?” the yell from further inside the apartment acted like a bucket of cold water tipped over his head unceremoniously.

Neil whipped his head up, glaring at the open doorway. Unfortunately, being referred to as ‘blondie’ was becoming more frequent. The petulant nature urged him to ignore it, but he knew that was hardly the last one. With another long-suffering sigh, he heaved himself out of the armchair and called back:

“I said I’m coming,” granted, that was over fifteen minutes ago, but everyone could get distracted. Right? “Would it hurt you to ask nicer?” he stalked down the corridor toward the living area with an arched eyebrow.

It was not surprising to meet a mirroring expression on the faces of Ives, Wheeler, and Jeremy sitting in a trifecta of judgment. Neil had no doubts about his place in that makeshift courtroom.

“Yes, when you’re slacking,” Wheeler dropped the disapproving glare with all the air of nonchalance and pointedly glanced at the table covered with maps and blueprints.

Neil had no choice but to sit down in the remaining chair and offer an apologetic pout to anyone willing to hear him out:

“I’m not slacking. I’m just-” whatever excuse he could whip out on a whim got interrupted prematurely.

“Otherwise occupied with your girlfriend. Yes, we know,” Wheeler raised her head once more with a dismissive wave of hand, making Neil consider the possibility that she was close to losing it right there and then.

That possibility was always worrisome, for no anger could compare to that of his friend. Especially when she was pissed off.

But that careful consideration was nothing in the face of the two realisations brought forward by that simple assumption. Firstly - Cupid was decidedly not his girlfriend. Secondly – fucking Ives.

Neil glared at the man in question, hoping his eyes would reveal the murderous intents hidden underneath as his clarifying statement broke the awkward silence:

“She’s not-” he never finished that sentence (perhaps for the better), for the harsh sound of his ringtone filled the room with cacophonic clamour. Neil scrambled to pick up the phone without as much as glancing at the screen, “Hello?” the tentative opener sounded ridiculous even to his ears.

Soon, it was clear he should have checked the caller before picking up.

“Hi, Neil,” Cupid’s silky tone caressed his ear through the device.

Neil knew she did that purposefully, solely inspired to make the idiot inside him blush and giggle like a loser. Make no mistake; Neil was certainly a loser. And an idiot.

Once he felt the shock pass enough to ensure he would not drop the phone he repeated the greeting.

“Umm, hi,” from the corner of his eye, Neil could see the accompanying trio stare at him without trying to be covert about it. Absolute assholes “You’ve never called me before” trust him to state the obvious.

For a second, Neil considered faceplanting onto the table. Equally, the idea of jumping out of the window sounded appealing. The thoughts of potential demise were interrupted by Cupid’s reply:

“I know. I just thought it might be fun to spice things up,” she was definitely enjoying this and the damage she has caused. It was audible in the lightness of her voice, the vowels curled by a cheeky smile he could hear as she asked, “How’s your day?”

No longer happy to ignore his audience, Neil turned towards them with another glare. All three stared back, with Ives going as far as shooting him a knowing smile.

“It’s fine, except for my team being desperate to berate me,” Neil directed the venom in his voice at the trio as Wheeler casually got up from the table and put the kettle on.

The light chuckle from the phone almost made him feel better about it.

“That’s rude,” her remark contrasted with the laughter he could hear in her voice. Yet it was too late to raise the alarm or prepare for what would follow, “Would it be better if I reminded you what a good boy you are?” as soon as Cupid finished the question, Neil felt the full-body reaction she wanted.

A shudder ran through his spine as his face flushed pink. On a last conscious thought, Neil leapt up from the chair and paced towards the window, hiding from the group. A half-swallowed groan broke through his mouth as he tightened his fist, hopelessly trying to forget how those two words sounded on her lips. It was pathetic.

The more tragic outcome was that now Cupid had even more blackmailing material in her arsenal.

“Jesus Christ, you’re evil,” Neil knew he still sounded wrecked.

There was no way of hiding that. Of making her forget this had just happened and the conclusions she could draw from it. Neil barely resisted the urge to smash his head into the window.

“Oh, so it would help,” as expected, Cupid sounded delighted by what had transpired. The cheeky smile he liked way too much was undoubtedly present on her face as she added, “Not so dully noted” may he rest in pieces, apparently, “When are you coming back?” the question sounded almost out of place.

Yet even in his muddled mind, Neil knew it was genuine. That she wanted to know. If that fact meant anything at all, he did not know. And he tried his hardest not to think about it too much.

“Why? You miss me?” ignoring the chorus of ‘awws’ behind his back, Neil allowed himself to ask.

Even if only for emotional validation. Because while she has hinted at it before, Neil was never tired of being reminded. The whole thing with her might have been hopeless, but it did not change how he worked. How his heart ticked and what beat it chose. Tragically, romanticism was tricky to get rid of. Neil experienced that first-hand.

“You know that I do,” Cupid did not mind humouring his whims as she offered a simple admission without a fight.

With all his predictability, Neil could not hold back the idiotic grin from making an appearance. Sure, it had no future, but that did not make him less eager to play along. What’s the worst thing that could happen? Famous last words and all. Probably.

“I should be back in a week. More or less,” that was the hope, anyway.

The few stray thoughts that had somehow escaped the web spun by Cupid, and her attention reminded him about the work still left to be done. Like the fucking pincer movement plan. With threebastards taunting him mercilessly. So much fun.

“Fab. I got you a great seat for the premiere, so… You know what to do,” the hopeful note in her voice was worth the future pain.

He had no doubts about it. The fact was that Neil was looking forward to the ballet. The hazy memories of seeing ‘Swan Lake’, aged six, hardly compared to the Royal Ballet company. It was a good enough reason to attend. The other excellent reason was Cupid herself, but that was best unsaid. And unthought. Somehow.

“Got you,” ignoring the ridiculous thoughts, Neil offered her a smile she could not see and a silent prayer cast into the heavens that he was not lying unknowingly.

“I know you do. You’re a good boy, Neil,” Cupid’s strike came with no warning.

Yet again, she dropped her tone a notch and whispered the damned two words with a breathy sigh. The metaphorical nail to the coffin this time was how she said his name, almost caressing the letters. And yes, this time it worked, too.

Neil had the mind to faceplant into the window and groan with frustration. The inescapable blush warmed up his cheeks as his body shivered. Some… particular parts of his physique also showed interest in what was happening, eternally oh so eager to betray his wish to stay unbothered.

“For fuck’s-” the choked curse got swallowed by the mightiest effort on his side as Neil took a steadying breath and asked, “Why?”

As if happy to punish him, Cupid laughed.

“Because it’s fun,” the unspoken duh made him both more annoyed and more bewitched by her, “I’ll let you work now, but…” as did the carrot dangled in front of his face like the sweetest of baits.

Always the idiot, Neil could not possibly ignore it.

“Yeah?” he could hear her take a deep breath as if steeling herself for a difficult admission.

“I’m glad we’ve met,” Cupid whispered the confession without as much as a pause between the words.

“Me too,” his reply got lost in the static as she hung up.

Letting out the breath he did not know he was holding, Neil lowered the phone onto the windowsill and stared at the city outside. Well then. The call would take a while to process; that was unquestionable.

“Aw, aren’t you two cute?” Ives’ teasing threw Neil out of that pleasantly fuzzy mind space with all the grace of an elephant.

He turned around with the glower at the ready. This time, he could not bite back the curse:

“Shut the fuck up,” on an afterthought, Neil added, “Please,” noticing the soldier open his mouth for a quip, he dropped his tone to a warning timbre. That called for a final caution, “Unless you want to start looking for a new physicist,” his glare slipped over the trio before Neil settled at the table and unfolded the blueprints without another word.

***

When that awaited text from Neil came, bearing the information that he was back in London and happy to meet you whenever you did not jump for joy. Definitely not. What you did do was grin and discuss the possible rendezvous immediately. When that Tuesday afternoon arrived, with the glory of a decent rehearsal and a good coffee in your paper cup, you happily bypassed the crowds at Green Park and skipped the steps down to the correct platform.

That twenty-minute walk to the station was a blessing, just as much as a curse. When Neil proposed the time you could meet on the train, you did not correct him about your location that day. Or that grabbing the Jubilee line would be entirely off the quickest route back home. You just accepted the time and place and ignored the voice at the back of your head reminding you that this was not how you usually behaved.

It could go fuck itself.

Once you settled on the platform, one glance at the watch told you the next train would be the right one. The strange giddiness sparked in your veins, but you blamed it on the three-week gap between the meetings. It was just that, nothing more. Obviously.

The autopilot carried you through the motions until you had boarded the carriage and came face to face with the cause of all this idiocy. Neil smiled, instantly clocking you before you had even placed both feet inside. It was impossible to keep your face neutral, returning the grin and manoeuvring around the commuters to sit next to him on the three plastic chairs facing the sliding doors.

Then, as if seized by insanity, you propelled your body forward with the arms coming up around Neil’s neck to embrace him tightly. His freeze took approximately twenty seconds to thaw as he returned the hug with equal strength. You could feel the warmth of his breath hitting the crook of your neck and making you fight back a shiver that would not do. Instead, you let yourself breathe him in, rest in the moment that was potentially a mistake. Still, you were not going to treat it like one. Not when the warmth of his hands seeped through the clothes as they rested on your waist.

When the lurch of the train reminded you of reality and all its flaws, you ruefully disentangled from Neil and met his wary gaze. His blue eyes scanned your face as if looking for clues towards the reasons for the madness you just allowed yourself. When that offered no answers, Neil broke the silence with a careful observation:

“I didn’t know that we’re doing hugs,” his impassive face offered no clues either, triggering a wave of uncertainty you had to smother.

Because what if you went too far? What if that was not what Neil wanted?

“We are now,” the confidence was missing from the statement, making you add a crucial question, “Is that okay?” you could hear the insecurity in your voice, betraying the worries.

They disappeared the moment Neil flashed you a smile, his hand lightly patting your knee as a complement to the simple reassurance:

“Sure is,” lowering his gaze to catch yours, Neil winked.

Thank fuck. It surely made life much easier. Or the plans you might or might have not made regarding him. Now that the crisis had passed, you shifted in the seat to find a more comfortable position and allowed yourself a selfish look, measuring him up as usual. The slight tan line revealed by the rolled-up sleeves confirmed what you did know about his disappearance. The minor tiredness in how he carried his body strengthened your guesses. The rest of him blinded you as always.

Especially the three buttons left undone, revealing a strip of his chest. And inspiring ungodly thoughts in your head. Ignoring that what could not be addressed. Especially not right now in a carriage full of people. You switched your attention to the other crucial topic. Everything was better than being arrested for public indecency. At least you did hope so.

“How was the trip?” you noted the shift in Neil’s posture.

How he strengthened in the seat, the mask back in place. Although his mystery had fallen into the background over the acceleration of your dynamic, it was still very much present. You had to figure him out. Had to crack the case. Even if it killed you.

For now, though, simply asking mundane questions had to be enough.

“Well… it was fine. The usual” the answer did not help much, however.

Neil looked as if he knew how enigmatic it sounded but could not do anything about it. Upon your questioning look, he only shrugged and offered no further details. This time, you could not let the moment pass without a comment. You rolled your eyes, a frustrated huff interrupting the silence with petulance:

“God, you couldn’t be any less mysterious if you tried,” although anger was not one of the present emotions, you knew Neil would understand the message as you glared at him without heat.

He winced as if admitting to the guilt you hinted at and turned to you with a more open expression on his face:

“Sorry, it’s uh… maybe one day,” Neil met your gaze meaningfully, making you keener to believe him.

You held his gaze for a beat, even if only to have an excuse to look into his eyes and see Neil without the veil of pretence. It was easy to hope one day he would tell you more. That there was one day, somewhere along the line, waiting for you. That whatever was happening would not burn to a cinder in two weeks and leave you bereft. As things like this tended to do.

“I’ll hold you to that,” before breaking the eye contact, you reached for his hand.

It was another insane reflex that was difficult to explain, even to yourself. Yet, still, Neil went willingly. His long fingers tangled with yours without resistance and allowed you to rest your joined palms between the seats, almost like a beacon to whoever was curious about your meeting. And you could see the nosy stares, the inquisitive grandmas eager to judge and label everything and everyone existing within their vicinity.

You used the warmth of your connected hands to anchor you in the present as Neil asked:

“How’s the imposter syndrome? Did it fuck off at last?” the softness in his eyes could undoubtedly be fatal.

As was the way he knew what to ask and hit the jackpot without even trying. Because, of course, the feeling of not being good enough did not disappear. Of course, you still got up every morning with the vague desire to approach the ballet director and tell her you are giving up. That you cannot do this. It almost seemed like Neil could sense your thoughts.

Which was both terrifying and appealing, if you were to be honest. It would make your job easier if he knew exactly what you were thinking. About him.

“I wish,” the suffering sigh was a cheap trick, but viable in your books, “I still think I’m going to embarrass myself, but well,” not willing to give up the comfortable weight of his hand in yours, you offered Neil a one-sided shrug “Can’t exactly capitulate now” the desperate edge to that sentence did not escape his attention.

Sure, you would not actually give up, but that did not mean you were not half-heartedly wishing it happened anyway. Ideally, in the form of someone else doing the job for you. Pathetic, innit?

Neil squeezed your hand, capturing your attention without needing to try at all. The frown was still present on your face, its force turning the corners of your mouth downwards. As always, Neil seemed to see through all that you were not saying. He met your gaze (which was a feat considering you were happy to look anywhere but at him) and spoke:

“I wouldn’t let you,” there was an edge to his voice, a steely resolve that told you the conversation was gaining another layer.

A different destination to the one you had expected at first. Although, with how your chats recently played out, it was to be anticipated. Probably.

Without giving yourself the time to overthink, you leaned closer to Neil and placed a hand on his thigh. You could see his eyes widen upon the move, the pupils blowing up in the quickest form of flattery a man could give you. Sharpening your smile to the perfectly saccharine variant, you delivered the prepared lines:

“Oh yeah?” his thigh muscles tensed underneath your hand as Neil’s mouth fell agape without him being fully in control of the reaction. It was adorable. And an ideally ripe ground to lay the final strike, “You’d force me? Have your way with me?” the sparks in his eyes were a pretty addition to the already gorgeous picture.

At that moment, you knew that you had missed this. No texting could ever replace the real thing. The back and forth with the arresting strength of his eye contact and the unpredictable suspense of what would come next. Like the sudden softening of Neil’s features and an unexpectedly tentative counter to your bold questions:

“If you’d let me,” he swallowed hard as if desperately trying to get rid of the thoughts in his head and simultaneously unable to shake them off.

As if ripping the thread connecting him to you and shortening it at an alarming rate was causing Neil physical pain. The revelation acted like a hot poker pressed against the tender skin of your palm. It was difficult to shrug it off as if it was nothing. It nagged and prodded until you could do nothing but stare dumbly at him, feeling every passing second like a wasted beat of time you would never get back.

Before you could get your shit together in any way, it was too late. Neil had already jumped to conclusions, as you worried he might. His brows furrowed as his teeth nibbled on the chapped bottom lip in a familiar nervous tic. Slowly, as if navigating a mined battlefield, he shifted in the seat, widening the space between you by a fraction. You noticed it anyway.

“You don’t mind that this sort of thing keeps happening?” the question was completed with a vague gesture, slashing the air between you awkwardly.

The inflexion offered no space for doubt. Neil concluded that you very much did mind. That somehow you were not an active and eager participant in the heavy flirting and mutual teasing. Neil was an idiot.

And you had to put that point across instantly.

“Why would I mind?” without thinking, you let your fingers repeatedly stroke his forearm as you leaned back into his orbit to confess what ought to have been obvious, “I mean every word I say to you. Including all that post-Watershed talk” it was delightful to see your favourite smile disrupt his frown.

At the same time, it was nice to have it out in the open, no longer unsaid and implied. Because you did mean it. And you did want it. Whatever Neil would offer, be it a friendship or more. The choice was his.

You could pinpoint when the weight lifted off his shoulders and let him breathe deeper. You stared as Neil absorbed and processed the information, his blue eyes showing a spectrum of emotions. Some were unreadable. Other more obvious, like the devilish sparks that always guaranteed the conversation would take a curious turn. Or the cautious hope, making him look so much younger and innocent. Your unoccupied hand itched with the desire to brush his golden locks from his forehead, so you tightened it into a fist hidden in the coat pocket.

Just like you hid everything that had no place in your life.

At the periphery of your attention, you could register the called stations. Or the fact that your stop was mercilessly getting closer. Only one question could make you forget the reality altogether:

“So, what would you do if I kissed you?” when Neil asked, you were glad you had never forced yourself to look away from him.

That hesitant hope was still there, lightening up his eyes. You let it pull you in, as there was no need to search your heart for an answer. It was fair to assume Neil knew that, too. The question was only a preliminary. But it was still admirable he asked. People rarely did.

You shrugged, highlighting the evident conclusion he hopefully had already reached. It would have been easy to close the gap and let that be the answer. Too easy. It was enough that you could hardly ever look away from him, constantly drawn and arrested by his eyes.

Forcing yourself to break the spell, you met his gaze and offered him an impassive smile. If only to keep up the façade for a little longer.

“There’s only one way to find out, Neil,” you hoped that was enough, that he would understand the ball was back in his court to do as he pleased.

You also hoped Neil came to the right solution. Sadly, that did not seem to come to be just yet. One glance outside the window alarmed you about the surroundings and that you were arriving at your station. The frown twisted your mouth downwards as you risked a glance at Neil. The disappointment in his eyes told you he already caught up.

Two choices were waiting at your disposal. You could either stay, miss your stop to find out what would happen next. Or you could choose cowardice and leave the carriage, delaying the fateful moment a little longer. Definitely not forever.

It was hard to say why you chose the second option. Why you stood up without as much as a look at Neil and feigned a cheery farewell that felt foreign on your tongue. Later, you were keen to pretend it was just the influence of the moment. A sudden spell of insanity.

“Oops, that’s me. See you soon,” it was a miracle that you did not trip in the haste to get out.

You barely registered the surroundings as you bolted towards the sliding door and stepped onto the platform, missing the gap by mere millimetres. It was pure luck that you did not walk into any poor soul as you attempted to get away from the train as fast as possible.

You did not get the time to flee. All because you did not consider one thing – Neil had a choice, too.

When you felt a hand take yours and pull you back, there was that split second of panic. Your disoriented mind rapidly flicked through at least ten different disastrous scenarios, starting at a random appearance of Liam and ending at a violent assault you were about to be subjected to. Only then, at the very end, your brain pushed forward another observation. There was something familiar about that handhold.

Before you had a second to follow that thought, the interrupter pulled at your hand, making you whirl around to face them. Your widened gaze fell upon the undone tortoiseshell shirt buttons and wandered up the neck to land on Neil’s blue eyes, patiently staring back at you. It took you another second to understand what happened. And another one to begin processing what it could mean. Why he did it.

Without being aware of the movement of your body, you stepped closer to Neil, tightening the bubble you both had created in the middle of the platform. People bypassed you as they rushed to the train with the beeping doors hastening their steps. But that hardly mattered. It was just white noise. Unimportant and ignorable.

Unlike Neil, who closed the gap between your bodies to mere millimetres, and wordlessly repeated the question from before. The answer did not change. You offered him a tiny nod, not feeling the need to speak. The surrealism of the moment could not be labelled anyhow.

From the second you had tasted Neil’s lips, you knew it would not be something you could forget. That the feel of him would burn into the cortex of your brain and stay there to haunt you for eternity. You were right.

Your eyes snapped shut as soon as he closed the distance and covered your mouth with his in a soft kiss. His gentle and pliant lips caressed yours attentively without effort, making you cling even closer to him. Your arms came around Neil’s neck as your fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck. It took another second, a blissful beat of existence, to make you kiss him back. Just as carefully. Just like you never kissed anyone before.

Neil’s relief came through in a short gasp, let out into your opening mouth, and the warm weight of his palms came up to rest on your waist beneath the open coat. Following the logic you did not understand, you tilted your head and allowed his prying tongue to lick into your mouth. The liquid heat traversed your veins, warming up your skin as Neil took his time to map out the inside of your mouth. Suddenly, the instant connection you felt made sense. Things clicked into place as you breathed the taste of him and breathed out the uncertainty. It felt right. Good. Unforgettable, even.

It felt like no first kisses and endless one-night stands ever did. And that made no sense.

Soon, that first kiss evolved into another and then the next. The platform, the people and the noise faded into the background as you swapped kisses, barely interrupted by quiet groans and swallowed gasps. On its own accord, your hand ventured up to tangle in his hair, grabbing a fistful of the golden locks and tugging in time with a particularly hungry nip taken out of Neil’s bottom lip. The reward of a barely stifled moan was more than worth it.

As was how Neil held you close and returned your kisses with equal zeal. He matched your energy and pushed you further until the remaining part of your conscience worried about being arrested for public indecency.

When the burn of your lungs excelled that of your soul, you placed a palm over the centre of his chest and pushed Neil back. Just a fraction. Just to catch your breath. His answering whine felt like another spark of pride, making your eyes glow with self-satisfaction. That was better than any other form of gratification you could think of.

When you finally forced yourself to blink your eyes open and look at Neil, you were met with kiss-bruised lips and darkened blue eyes, showing nothing else but hunger. At least ten increasingly ridiculous religious metaphors battled for leadership in your mind, but you pushed them all aside. The most accurate comment went to two simple words, pushed forward by the strength of your soul’s crudeness. Fucking hell. In the best of meanings, that is.

Following deeply rooted instincts, your tongue darted out to thoroughly trace the expanse of your bottom lip. And get remains of his taste, that you had already started missing. As far as kisses had gone, this one was pretty damn spectacular.

Neil seemed frozen, his eyes fixed on your mouth as if that was the only thing he could do. Admittedly, it was adorable. Yet, still, you decided to break the spell, the only way you could think of:

“I think your train has left,” you glanced over his shoulder, noting the expectedly empty platform.

Only now, when the haze of the kiss (or rather a whole make-out session) had begun to lift, you could understand what had transpired. And that Neil was keen to delay his return home for the price of a kiss. Or for the hope of a kiss, for clearly, he did not think he would get that far. Idiot.

You could see it now, back on his face. The slight disorientation and confusion suggested Neil could barely believe that what just happened was real. He blinked twice, then again, as if forcing himself to wake up and met your gaze with wide eyes. Without thinking, you allowed the hand you had pressed flat to his chest to venture up, stopping when your fingers started grazing over his neck. That was the trigger Neil needed to return to reality. He seized your adventurous fingers in a loose hold and placed your joined hands back over his heart. You could feel it racing.

“I’ll wait for the next one,” Neil offered you a half-smile, the uncertainty shining through the tentative joy in his eyes.

It was not something you were used to. Usually, after a kiss like that (never even preceded with a question, because who the fuck still asked for kisses?), you only ever got smugness. And an attempt at a smooth transition to sex, which did or did not succeed, depending on the participating party). Never uncertainty. Never shyness. Never contentment with what happened without pushing you for more.

You didn’t know what to do with any of it.

“No regrets?” the question was also one that you never asked before.

Not after something as trivial as a first kiss. But then, nothing was the way it usually went with Neil. That much was quite clear.

“Not really. You?” as if sensing your growing uncertainty, Neil did not hesitate before answering the question.

He squeezed your fingers, still wrapped in his palm and met your gaze with something almost resembling confidence. Somehow, that was enough. You took a fortifying breath to gather courage and discard the doubts. There would be more than enough time to deal with them later. Hopefully.

For now, there were other things to do and say. Like answering Neil’s question and reclaiming the conversation from its sombre paths. Especially since no cell in your body regretted the kiss. Or any other thing you had ever said or hinted at to him. It is just that somehow, somewhere along the line, your normal confidence had been wiped off the table. And it felt like it was never to be seen again. Not like before.

You hoped to ignore that bit of revelation, too.

“Nope. I’d offer a coffee at mine, but… I think some things need a better build-up,” you hoped the chaos in your head was not easily seen as you dropped the line with an attempt at the usual smoothness and met Neil’s eyes with remaining poise.

You meant that, too. A part of you, the same that had difficulties ending the kiss, wanted to continue it wherever it may lead you. You were quite sure you knew where it was going. And you certainly wanted that. But, at the same time, rushing into it seemed… wrong. As if the fact that you also wanted to be friends with Neil needed a little more respect. A little more time.

You could tell he understood from the way Neil nodded, his eyes still blown out by the darkened pupils.

“Agreed,” he shook his head slightly as if trying to clear it before glancing at the timing screen over your heads. Whatever the impact those 7 minutes of waiting had, the next thing Neil did was to heave a sigh and set his weary eyes on you, “Actually, I might walk back home. Should probably clear my head,” a small smile lifted the corner of his mouth.

Without overthinking the act, you seized his hand and started for the stairs. Just because you were not yet taking him home did not mean you could not drag out the goodbye. Right?

Right.

***

Although the kiss was not forgotten and only added to the general restlessness, you never mentioned it again. It was another layer added to the sprinkled, complex mess that was your relationship. A tiered cake that had so many flavours it was impossible to label it using a concise, less than five-word description. It just did not get discussed.

That was both a blessing and a curse, considering that with mere days left till the public Don Quixote premiere you could barely handle one type of stress and uncertainty. Let alone two. The reality check deadline crept up on you without warning, catching you pacing the flat for over an hour the evening before the official pre-premiere. The event always happened at least a night before the opening soiree and was reserved for the press, Royal Ballet directory and special guests of honour. It also meant that every detail of the performance had to be up to par if one wanted to continue advancing the career in the company. Which you did want. Desperately. It was just bloody unfortunate that the usual insanity of anxiety now was interlaced with something else.

Something that made you stop the pacing and pick up the phone only to open the messages and stare at the text conversation with Neil. It had been a few hours, and considering the 9 pm on the clock, you had a fair right to believe that he might be asleep. Maybe. But that could hardly deter the part of your brain that tended to get ahead of itself. Especially fuelled by stress and anxiety.

Without letting yourself falter, you typed the question:

/ 🏹, 9:04 pm/ Are you still up?

Luckily, you only had to hold your breath for an answer (or a lack of it) for less than 5 minutes. For that, your lungs were eternally thankful.

/✝️, 9:08 pm/ Is this the moment you ask me for dick pics?

A ridiculous guffaw broke the silence of your flat, along with that necessary intake of oxygen. Conversations like those still happened daily and only increased the want you could not get rid of if you tried.

And you didn’t try. There was no point to it.

/ 🏹, 9:09 pm/ Nah. Not yet.

You were having fun, chatting the shit on the daily with someone who seemed more than eager to keep the ball going. That was partially why you reached out on a whim, desperate to get out of the flat even for a little while. After all, asking Neil offered a fifty-fifty chance of an entertaining evening. All other intentions did not have to be disclosed. Even in your mind.

/✝️, 9:10 pm/ That’s a relief.

/✝️, 9:10 pm/ How can I be of service, my lady?

/ 🏹, 9:11 pm/ You’ve no idea, babe.

/ 🏹, 9:12 pm/ I was thinking of going to the dance studio, that’s open till midnight. Do you want to come?

/ 🏹, 9:12 pm/ You’ve said you wanted to see me dance so…

After sending the third message, you put down the phone and exhaled. That nervousness residing in your bones was new. It was almost as if it mattered what Neil’s answer would be. As if you cared whether he would say yes to the tentative proposition. None of that had ever happened before.

The urge to faceplant into the pillow was derailed by the buzz of an incoming message. With embarrassing speed of reaction, you read the texts:

/✝️, 9:15 pm/ Happily.

/✝️, 9:15 pm/ When and where do we meet?

You grinned. As you copied and pasted the location pin into the message, you could already feel a different type of nervousness enter your system. It was time for Neil to see you dance. You would also see him for the first time since the kiss. It was high time someone covered this topic on wikiHow. Or, at least, you thought so.

***

Although the Royal Ballet had more than good enough facilities at the Covent Garden building, the company could also use a studio by the Southwark Underground Station whenever you felt like it. Conveniently, that alternative place was open till midnight on weeknights, offering a one-in-a-million chance to run over the choreography for a billion times more before the pre-premiere. Without an audience of your fellow ballet dancers and their critical eyes, at that.

The other perk to the external studio was that nothing stopped you from bringing someone from the outside along. Nothing except for maybe the deeply rooted fear of showing Neil what you could do. Or couldn’t do.

That fear had not left through the Uber drive from your flat, growing in force from the moment you set your eyes upon Neil waiting outside the studio with a smile on his face. You exchanged the usual niceties, bypassing the awkward tint to the interaction with an avoided hug and nonsensical commentary from your side.

The nerves seemed to reach the peak as you left Neil in the main ballet studio room, the space lit up sparsely to maintain the strangely surreal atmosphere of those late autumn nights in London when nothing seems to be tangible and real. Having left the house in a pre-planned rehearsal outfit, you only took off the unnecessary layers, leaving you in a simple bodice and a wrap mid-thigh skirt and pulled on the woollen leg warmers to keep the chill at bay.

Luckily for your racing heart, the ritual of putting on and lacing up the pointe shoes always did its magic, allowing you to centre yourself and take a couple of deep breaths. Until there was nothing left but to march out of the changing room and connect your phone to the speaker, the right track ready for you to press play.

But before you could go that far, you made the mistake of locating Neil in the room. He had settled on the floor opposite you, his back pressed to the mirror-covered walls of the studio. He stared as you entered the invisible stage and offered you an encouraging smile. A slow, gentle warm-up was a valid opportunity to falter. A necessary step you had to take while also admitting that it was convenient. Although, Neil’s attentive gaze following your every move was much less convenient.

Once you had run out of all other options, you started the music, put down the phone and took up position. Desperate to rehearse as much as possible, you chose to go through the entire dream sequence at the end of Act 2. As always, the Minkus score did its magic, helping you settle into the movement and almost forget about everything else.

You followed the steps with practised ease, hearing the dull thud of pointe shoes hitting the hardwood floors with each landing between the orchestral notes. When the cue to finish was near you were almost out of breath. The pearls of sweat clung to your temples as the sweetness of exertion burned through your muscles and tendons. When those final notes rang off in the quiet studio, you held the finishing pose and waited for the music to end. The resulting silence was deafening.

Slowly, as if pained to do it, you opened your eyes. Neil was right where you had left him; his gaze seemingly never trailed away. But the exact look on his face was different. Instead of the ease and unbothered nonchalance he tried to emit earlier, Neil was now speechless. Dazed. His mouth was still agape, and he had to remind himself to close it before swallowing hard. You tried your hardest not to let that get into your head. You failed.

“So… what do you think?” unable to keep quiet for much longer, you released the question into the ether with a permanent frown and a minimal level of conviction.

It seemed to be what Neil needed to wake up from the stupor. He shifted, pulled up his knees to his chin and eyed you with a bright gaze. The desire to look away rose with every minute, but you tried to endure it. Somehow.

“You’re brilliant. Do you know that?” the matter-of-fact tone threw you off kilter, bringing out an automatic (albeit manic) grin from its hiding back onto your face.

Neil mirrored the expression instantly, only widening your smile in the process. Feeling the need to move again, you flexed your calves, completing a set of rapid changements. Only once that was done you could attempt to answer the question.

“Maybe,” you shrugged, unwilling to stray onto that sort of honest territory just yet, “It doesn’t hurt to hear it again, though,” unable to ignore that one voice at the back of your head that had not been convinced, you asked, “Was it actually… good?” the emphasis on the word was automatic.

You could tell Neil saw right through your faux nonchalance as he smiled, a different type of fondness shining in his eyes. That, too, was best left alone for now. The observation was shelved among others of its kind in the darkest cavern of your brain. Ideally left alone for good, never to be touched or thought of again. Just in case.

Neil’s gaze never strayed from yours as he offered you an answer without a hint of exasperation:

“As far as my virgin eyes could tell, it was perfect,” the corner of his mouth rose in the makings of a familiar smirk.

It eradicated any illusions that he did not know what he was saying. Or the effect the sentence would have. You closed your eyes against the sight, hopelessly willing the inconvenient feelings to disappear.

By now, it was painfully clear that Neil could be a bastard when he wanted to. It was just another thing that you liked about him. Perhaps too much.

For a second, you debated following the easy way out he had offered. It would have been effortless to take up the tone and turn the conversation into yet another pleasant back-and-forth that could potentially lead you past the talking. Past that one kiss, that had lowkey driven you insane with the promise of potential.

But the doubts were still there. They still clouded your mind like a flock of hungry birds of prey hunting for a bite of flesh. And Neil was the only person you could talk to and know he would listen. That he would care. For some reason, it was a crucial thing to share. An important topic to raise. Here and now.

“Allow me to ignore that double entendre potential for a second,” your apologetic frown was accepted with a subtle nod and meaningful glance.

“You’re excused, Cupid,” Neil grinned, evidently taking pleasure from the nickname you became fond of.

Especially because it was him, who bestowed it on you.

“Thank you,” shaking off the sudden rush of affection, you completed the gratitude with a cheeky addition, returning Neil’s smirk, “Sir,” only once noted his answering blush, it was safe to delve into what you really wanted to tell him. You took a deep breath, completing half a pirouette to face the mirrors on the wall and asked, “Do you ever feel like you’re just constantly pretending? Like the whole ‘fake it till you make it’ deal, except you never stop faking it?” training your gaze on the hardwood floors, you stared at the tips of your pointe shoes.

The worn-out, ragged edges caught your attention for a split second. You took a mental note to break in the brand-new pair and prepare them for tomorrow’s show. On the periphery of your vision, you could see Neil’s reflection. You could feel him staring, the intense gazing boring holes in the back of your head. But not even that could make you turn and face him.

“Pretty much every day,” Neil’s reply made you look up, meeting his eyes in the reflection. That was not an answer you had expected, “I’ve found that sometimes, if you’re lucky, all that pretending can fool the brain, too,” he signed off the addition with another reassuring smile.

Still, the scepticism reigned free as an unbidden scoff tore from your throat, forcing you to swallow down the sudden desire to retreat from the conversation. Years of practice did not seem to share Neil’s thesis. Things never got easier. You doubted they ever would.

“I’d hope so. Except that, I’m not sure I am that lucky,” that was a given, an undeniable fact of life like the laws of physics or the ignorance of the Tories. Unchangeable. The familiar wave of frustration threatened to pull you down as you allowed the insecurities to speak their part,“I may appear as a fucking cool cat, confident and all, but… I’m not,” hearing the broken note in your voice, you swallowed hard, unable to look at Neil anymore. There was only one final thing to add, “And I wish I could be,”

There. The curtain has fallen, revealing the truth underneath. Now, it was clear Neil had no illusions left about you. No reason to think of you highly. Somehow, you felt lighter. Sure, still unable to meet his gaze, even in the reflection, but it was better that way. Now, when you did disappoint him somewhere along the line, for whatever reason, it would be much less surprising.

You had no doubts whether that moment of disappointment would happen. It always did.

“You have every right to be. Because you are” when Neil spoke, at first, you did not register it. His words flew right over your head before being caught by your heart, desperate to find anything to hold on to. Only then did you hear what he said. You looked up in time to see the remains of the fading blush on his cheeks, “If that even makes sense,” he shook his head slightly as if scolding himself over the awkward reassurance and stood up. The tense shoulders betrayed the lightness he still tried to emit, “Trust me when I say I feel useless and stupid every minute of every day,” the weariness in his voice clashed with the disbelief you felt when hearing what he said.

That made no sense. The turmoil made you turn around in a half-pirouette and face Neil with wide eyes and mouth agape. Your brain was experiencing severe computing issues, the smoke almost sizzling out through your open lips.

He was none of those things. You barely resisted the urge to close the miles between you and shake him by the shoulders, all the while screaming at him to stop saying such bullshit. You did not do any of those things.

“But you’re… you,” instead, you gestured vaguely towards him, armed with words that were not enough.

No words seemed to be apt to describe him. Neil was just… impossible. Ineffable in his wonderfulness. Much better than anyone you had ever known. But that was something you could not say. Not now.

“In my books, that’s not necessarily a good thing,” Neil glanced at you with tired eyes, kicking around at nothing as he slid across the parquet in his socks.

When you entered the studio, he started unlacing his shoes before you could protest. Said something about not wanting the cleaner to have more work. The comment made you smile too brightly before you excused yourself into the changing room and hid your face in the palms of your hands. That state didn’t seem to have passed.

In an effort not to do anything stupid, you backed away till you could feel the barre against your back. Only then you met his searching gaze and made sure to show Neil the extent of earnestness on your face:

“It is. I’ve never met anyone like you, Neil,” the admission was met with a surprised double-take, so you decided to soften the tone with a stupid addition, “The hottest priest in London and whatnot,” you did mean that one, too.

Neil’s huff of laughter felt like a dodged bullet.

“Funny,” the bright sparks in his eyes confirmed the praise with doubled force, making you turn back towards the mirror to avoid being blinded by the strength of his affection. That stuff could be dangerous, “You’re the hottest ballerina in London, so we’re even,” once you registered Neil’s words, the silky tone of his voice that had not been there just a second ago, you knew that trouble was coming.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him close the gap. The warmth settled in your cheeks as you felt the comfortable heat spread around your body. That pleasant anticipation ignited in your bones with every step Neil took. Somewhere, at the edges of reason and logic, you knew you still had a choice. You knew that whatever he had envisioned in his mind, could easily be stopped with one word from your side. What was the problem?

Mainly that you didn’t want him to stop. Did not want to cut short the moment slowly blooming into something crucial. You could feel it buzz beneath your skin as Neil took the final steps towards you and leaned in. His hands came to rest upon the barre, millimetres from yours. Not quite touching but enough so you could not ignore his presence. You could feel the heat from his body as Neil pressed his chest to your back and whispered into your ear:

“A cool cat,” in normal circumstances, the call-back to your rant would have made you laugh.

But those weren’t normal circumstances. Not with Neil’s proximity, his hands slowly tracing invisible lines up your arms. You could feel his breath on the nape of your neck, creating goosebumps effortlessly. And the thing was – this wasn’t anything new. It was far from the first time someone had done this. Far from the first time you had been tempted by someone who desired you. But it was the first time they seemed to take their time for it.

Your head felt dizzy with the revelation as Neil’s fingers lightly brushed the neckline of your bodice and journeyed down. It was a first in the fact that he did not even try touching your breasts, instead respectfully settling over your ribs and tapping a vague rhythm over your heated skin. Without searching your heart, you knew that you did not mind it. Not one bit.

You covered one of his palms with yours, firmly pressing it against your waist and raised your head to seek Neil’s gaze. He was already looking back at you, the blue eyes of his eyes dark and consumed with something you wanted to call hunger. The same feeling could be easily found on your face.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” you frowned at the hoarseness of your voice and the breathless tint to the question.

For the first time, it was impossible to fake your reaction. Impossible to pretend you were not affected. Neil’s answering smile, full of confidence and mischief, made that discovery seem fine. Not troubling at all.

“Is it working?” the warmth in his eyes made you feel safe, not threatened by the potential of what could happen.

Not viable to the pains of consequences. That seemed enough.

Enough to make you gently tug at his hand, asking for the freedom of movement to turn around and face him. Only then, with Neil’s curious gaze beaming down on you like a desirable spotlight, you placed his palm back on your waist and offered an honest reply:

“I think you already know,” as proof, you picked up his other hand and guided it to press against your chest, feeling the rapid heartbeat.

The wolfish grin you received in return was worth any leftover sense of shame and embarrassment. Neil leaned in, and just as you were about to close your eyes, awaiting another life-changing kiss, he left a promising peck on the edge of your jaw. On its own accord, your hand tightened over the wooden railing as you exposed your throat for his use.

Neil wasted no time leaving a trail of kisses down the slope of your neck, only just being careful enough not to leave marks. Each kiss felt like a hot poker pressed against the tender skin of your neck, blazing hot and impossible to shake off. You closed your eyes, letting the sense take in the sensation of his tender care. Of the contrasting burn of stubble, scratching at your skin with a delicious sting.

Every kiss took time, only then to be sealed with a lick of his tongue, eliciting your quiet gasps and barely kept in groans of pleasure. The wave of insanity rose, threatening to take over your brain, save for one consistent thought. One revelation.

No one had cared this much before.

Letting go of his hand, you tangled your fingers in his golden strands, lightly tugging to gain his attention. The answering groan was sure to enter the library of sounds and images you liked to relieve in private. But before you could attempt to formulate the desire painted across your face, the door to the studio creaked, disrupting the silence.

You gasped in shock as Neil took half a step back, warily eyeing the doorway. A thousand curses lodged themselves in your throat as a silhouette of an older man, armed with a bucket and a mop, peered inside the room with a scowl. Fucking Rich, the Janitor.

The older man scanned you both from head to toe and sighed.

“It’s closing time, kids. Go home,” his gravelly voice acted like the much-needed bucket of cold water.

As he turned back towards the darkness of the corridor, you met Neil’s eyes. The depths of exasperation visible there told you this business was far from over. You certainly hoped so.

[tightjeansjavi]

Burning in a Hopeless Dream

Boston QZ: Part 4

A/N: this chapter, and the next are extremely crucial to the stories plot. It focuses on Joel’s conflicted feelings for you, and for Tess. (love triangle baby) buckle up and we can laugh through the pain together, cheers! ☻

Summary: two months have passed since Joel taught you a lesson. One day in October, you come down with the flu, throughout the night your condition worsens, and Joel makes the decision that him and Tess will go to Bill and Franks to get you medicine.

~word count : 3.7k~

Warnings: age gap (m/c is 28) angst, love triangle brewing, soft!joel, protective!joel, m/c is sick, talk of guns, swearing, unrequited love, mild praise kink (+18) minors dni !

Songs for this chapter:

“Touch” by Sleeping At Last

“Forget Me Not” by The Civil Wars

____________

October 2020: Boston QZ

October had always been your favorite month. A whole month dedicated to spooks? Watching scary movies, dressing up and of course, candy. You absolutely loved dressing up for Halloween as a child. You always had a costume picked out far in advance. You were 11 and this year you were going to go as “Dani Dennison” from Hocus Pocus, your ultimate favorite Halloween movie, and your favorite character. Dani was a little spit fire, just like you. Your mom had sewn you a replica of Dani’s costume, witch's hat and all. You remembered the excitement of seeing it on the hanger in your childhood room one day after school in mid September, days before the world as you knew it would end. You never got the chance to wear your Dani Dennison costume, the world ended September 26th, 2003. You imagined now, your little costume, moth eaten and disintegrating to nothing but a precious memory.

October meant nothing to you anymore. You were grown, you had seen things and your soul had hardened. Your love for Halloween remained a distant memory of your childhood and it would stay there. Two months had passed since your night with Joel. You kept your promise to never speak of what happened between you to anyone. You were more cautious of your whereabouts and you wanted to give Joel a reason for him to trust you, to rely on you again.

The air was chilly as you walked home from another grueling day shoveling shit. Your body ached and your head throbbed. Your throat was raw and inflamed. You were coming down with something, you were certain of it. Catching a cold or any illness was not taken lightly by Fedra. Those fucks couldn’t differentiate a common cold from being infected and you knew that you had to get home quick. You took the back alleyways home instead of the main streets, ducking between tight corners as you moved through the shadows. The sun had nearly disappeared on the horizon by the time you made it back to the apartment. You could hear the Fedra trucks outside, making their rounds for civilians out past curfew. You had just barely made it, feeling a sense of relief wash over you as you locked the door behind you.

Tess and Joel were on a run and wouldn’t be back till the morning. With the weather changing they needed to stack up on supplies, it was crucial. You slowly sank down onto the couch, rubbing your hands over your face. You felt like fucking shit. Leaning back, with your eyes closed, you took a few deep breaths. Maybe this would just be a small cold that would last a couple days. You wanted to convince yourself that it wasn’t something worse. Just a stupid little cold that you could easily get over.

By midnight you were in pure misery. Your body ached one hour and the next you had the chills. You were sweating profusely and your forehead was hot to the touch and you looked pale. You did your best to hide your coughs, afraid that with the thin walls, someone might hear you.

At 12:30 you heard the doorknob jiggle and your blood went ice cold, you watched it open as Tess and Joel quietly slipped inside, they hadn’t noticed your huddled form on the couch yet.

You coughed into your sleeve.

Immediately, Joel and Tess whipped around, both with guns drawn on instinct but when he saw it was only you, his shoulders relaxed slightly as he slowly lowered his gun.

“Christ, Gwen. The hell are you doin up at this hour?”

He took a step towards the couch, Tess behind him, gun still drawn. Then he saw your face and the sweat dripping down your brows and your body trembling, even under the thick blanket that embraced you.

You couldn’t speak, your throat was so raw that your voice was nearly gone as you let out another a low cough, eyes trained on both of them, nervously.

“Joel, it’s not what you think it is—“

He cut you off then, gun raised as he took a step back, instinctively pushing Tess behind his broad form with his free hand.

“You’re fuckin infected?!” He harshly whispered with his finger hovering over the trigger.

You slowly raised your hands above your head then, body still trembling and your mind felt hazy from the fever.

“I’m not infected Joel. I’m sick. A cold or flu or somethin! I swear. I’m not infected.” Your heart was racing and your lower lip quivered, a single tear slowly rolling down your cheek, dripping down your chin. Your glossy eyes desperately pleading with him to believe that you were telling the truth.

“Joel you gotta–” Tess intervened but he cut her off too.

“Don’t, Tess. Alright? Just give me a minute here.” He spoke, while still pointing his gun at you, right between your eyes. You knew he could pull the trigger at any moment, ending your short time on earth. To your surprise, he instead pulled out the device that was used by Fedra soldiers to check new QZ residents for the cordyceps infection. For a moment, you thought about where the hell he had gotten the device but now was not the time for questions.

“I’m gonna need ya to turn your neck towards me doll, nice and slow. You make any sudden movement, and I’ll shoot. Do I make myself clear?” He spoke sternly, watching you intensely, his own palms beginning to sweat. He knew that if the device turned bright red, he’d have no choice but to pull the trigger. Joel wasn’t a religious man by any means, but he found himself silently praying for the device to turn green.

You gave him a meek nod, arms still raised behind your head, they were beginning to ache but you didn’t dare move them. You knew Joel would shoot you, he wouldn’t hesitate.

“Yes, Joel.” You spoke just above a whisper and slowly, you turned your neck to him, feeling your pulse ringing in your ears.

“Good girl.” He took a deep breath, as he lowered the device to the base of your neck, pressing the button and watched you wince from the slight pinch. You both held your breath for those fleeting seconds as the device beeped. It turned green a moment later. You were not infected. You had told him the truth. Relief spread across Joel’s face and you mirrored him, finally bringing your arms down from your head as he lowered his gun, slipping it back into his holster.

“Not infected.” He breathed out, momentarily glancing back at Tess, who still had her gun trained on you even after the device turned green. One stern look from her partner, and she was stuffing it back in her holster. “What a relief. She lives another day. Oh joy.” She muttered to herself.

“I told you I was telling the truth, Joel.” You spoke finally, bringing your hand up to your chest to feel your heart rate return to normal but you were still very much unwell.

“I know, I know, doll. I just had to be sure. M’sorry if I scared you. Can never be too careful.” He sighed then, setting the device down on the coffee table carefully then before he brought the back of his hand to your forehead, his lips curving into a deep frown when he could feel how hot your skin was under his touch.

“Fuck.” “You’re burning up Gwen. How long have you had this fever for huh? Just for today? For a few hours?”

He was asking too many questions at once for you to be able to keep up but his concern for you was evident.

“I—I don’t know. Maybe a few hours? I started feelin like shit right before my shift was up. Took the back alleys to avoid any Fedra soldiers and then it just started getting worse.”

You coughed into your sleeve again, falling back into the couch, exhausted.

“Tess, Tess! Get me a cold washcloth now.” He spoke urgently to his partner, his worried eyes trained on your shivering form as he slowly sank down to his knees so he was more on your level. His back ached but he didn’t care.

“You sure you weren’t seen? No one heard you? You know what Fedra would do if they saw you like this, right? They wouldn’t hesitate. Those fucks don’t know how to tell the difference between being infected versus bein ill.”

Tess reluctantly went and grabbed a washcloth from the kitchen, drenching it in cold water before she rang it out and brought it over to her partner, giving you a disapproving look before she turned on her heel and walked away.

“I know what they would have done to me, Joel. I know they wouldn’t hesitate. That’s why I took the back alleys. Like you taught me. I was careful, I was quiet.”

“Good girl. M’proud of you.” He spoke softly as he brought the washcloth over your forehead. “Gonna get you some help okay? Just need you to stay here and rest. Tess and I might need to go on a run again. We’ll get ya some medicine and you’ll be as good as new, I promise.”

Your heart absolutely melted in your chest from Joel’s concern over your well-being. You didn’t expect him to care, let alone potentially risk his life to get you some damn medicine. This was so against Joel’s nature, you thought.

“Joel, you don’t need to go on another run for me. It’s fine. I’ll be alright. Really, I’m not gonna let a fever take me out.”

“No.” He was stern with you now. “You’re not gonna fight me on this. You’re gonna rest these next few days and Tess and I will go to Bill and Franks. We'll get the medicine and be back in 3 days time. Now rest, don’t make me ask twice.”

“You already did ask twice, Miller.” You laughed quietly before coughing.

Joel didn’t find it funny. Not one bit, as he was too concerned that your fever could get worse if he didn’t act fast enough. He slowly rose from his knees then, you heard them crack as he muttered under his breath, taking one last look at your shivering form before he walked away to find Tess.

He leaned against the door jamb of their shared room, arms crossed over his chest.

“We gotta go to Bill and Frank’s, first thing tomorrow morning.”

Tess slowly looked up at her partner as she sat on the edge of bed and shook her head.

“Joel, we nearly were just caught on this last run. She’s got a fever, man. She’s not on her fucking death bed.”

“Did you fuckin hear me? We’re goin to Bill and Frank’s tomorrow. Her fever could get worse. She could be on her death bed in a matter of days if we don’t make this run.”

He paused then before continuing.

“She needs medicine, Tess. Please, do this for me.”

Tess took a deep breath then, placing her hands on her knees then feeling exhausted from the day and just wanted to sleep.

“Fine. We’ll go to Bill and Frank’s. We’ll get her the medicine and then we’ll come home.”

Joel let out a sigh of relief, grateful that his partner didn’t have it in her to fight him on this.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” She slumped down on the mattress then, rolling over with her back facing him. He joined her shortly after. She could feel the dip of the mattress from his body, his strong arms wounding around her waist as he pulled her back against his chest, nuzzling his face into her neck where he pressed a soft kiss into her skin, breathing her in.

“G’night.” He whispered softly into the nape of her neck.

Tess didn’t respond. She instead placed her hands over his, interlocking their fingers as she settled into a deep slumber, listening to his steady heartbeat lull her to sleep.

____________

Your fever had gotten worse through the night. Joel had hardly been able to sleep when he could hear your painful coughs fill the stagnant air and it twisted his heart painfully. You were beyond miserable, nearly begging death to take you out. Anything was better than feeling the oxygen being stolen from your lungs.

When the sun began to slowly peek in the sky, creating an array of orange and red hues, Joel slowly rose from the bed. Untangling his body from Tess’s. He was kind enough to drape his half of the coarse blanket around her, not wanting to disturb her slumber. He watched as she grabbed ahold of the blanket and pulled it tighter around her. He leaned down then, pressing a ghost of a kiss to her head before he quietly left their joined room, softly closing the door behind him.

Joel was apprehensive as he padded down the hall. He was afraid of what he might see as the couch with your curled up form, in a tight ball came into his view. His heart physically ached at the sight of you. You were shivering, mumbling in your sleep while you clutched the blanket like your life depended on it. He slowly walked over to the couch, sinking down to his knees in front of you. His touch was extremely delicate as he gently brushed a few strands of your sweat soaked hair from your forehead. His lips were set in a deep frown. Why did it have to be you to get so sick? Why couldn’t it be him? You instinctively leaned into the soft touch of his fingers, your lashes slowly fluttering open. “Joel.” You hoarsely whispered, lips trembling.

“Shh.” He whispered. “M’gonna get you the medicine okay? G’nna take care of you. You’re gonna be alright, doll. I promise. Just need ya to hang in there for a few days, okay?” He rasped. His voice was comforting at this early hour. His words were so soft spoken, you swore you were hallucinating. Or, it was just the fever overtaking your senses.

“I’m f-fine Joel. Just a fever, that's all. A real terrible fuckin fever.”

He chuckled under his breath then because only you would be so defiant of your own illness. A real trooper is what you were. There’s no way you were going to let this fever take you out.

“I know, doll. I know. You’re a tough little thing, that’s a fact.” He sighed, removing his fingers from your forehead as he slowly rose from his knees. “G’nna give Tess another 20 and then we’re gonna get goin. Don’t want to waste anymore time.”

You swallowed the lump growing in your throat as you watched him rise from the floor. Locking eyes with him for a brief moment before he had looked away.

“Three days and you’ll be back, right?” You spoke just above a whisper, feeling the rawness of your throat screaming at you.

“Yes. I promise. Three days' time and I'll be back.” He reassured you as he walked over to the window, glancing down at the barren street, knowing that the window of opportunity for him and Tess to leave without Fedra noticing would be up by the hour.

“You really don’t have to go and do this for me Joel. I don’t want you and Tess risking your lives for me. Risking the chance of you both getting thrown in lock up? I don’t want that to happen.”

He turned towards you then, arms down at his side and he huffed, frustratingly.

“I’m a cruel man, doll. However, m’not cruel enough to sit here and watch you suffer. I’ve still got some of my compassion left. Just enough for you.”

He had shuffled over to the end of the couch, sinking down as he felt around for the loose floorboard, pulling up the plank of wood, setting it down to the side. Reaching into the hole in the flooring, he pulled out a carton of bullets and a revolver that he had stashed away.

“Joel.”

“Gwen.” He spoke in the same tone as you. Looking up at you from the floor with his eyebrow raised.

“You done fightin’ me on this now?”

“No.”

He sighed then. Placing the loose plank of wood back in place before he stood up.

“You’re too stubborn for your own good Gwen.”

“I know I am.”

You saw his lips curve up ever so slightly from your banter.

“At least we’re able to agree on one thing.” He spoke with amusement in his voice.

The lighthearted moment you shared together came to an abrupt end. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife as Joel slowly sank down onto the end of the couch, expertly loading the cylinder of the revolver with the cartridges. You couldn’t help but watch his hands as they worked. You imagined he had done this over a thousand times by now.

“You listen now, alright? Anyone that tries to come through that door, you shoot. Don’t hesitate because chances are, they’ll shoot first. Don’t give ‘em the opportunity.”

“Joel, I highly doubt that anyone–” He cut you off then.

“Gwen, this ain’t no time for games alright? M’not gonna be here to protect ya. If people hear that Tess and I are out of town they will come. Don’t fight me on this.” He spoke sternly, his eyes trained on you, brows furrowed in a deep line.

“Okay.” You breathed out. “I won’t give them the opportunity to shoot first.”

“Good girl.” He handed you the gun then, barrel facing towards the floor.

“Now, show me how you hold it. No one handed shit either. This ain’t the movies.”

He watched as you grabbed the base of the gun, carefully with both hands. You knew how to wield a knife like it was the back of your hand, but guns were a whole new territory for you.

“Not bad for a first timer.” He leaned over to you then, placing his large hands over yours to adjust your grip, gently moving your thumbs so they were interlocked over each other. “Thumb over your thumb, left hand squeezes down on the right. You got it?”

You watched carefully as he adjusted your grip, his close proximity was enough to make your head spin and when he was sure you could handle it, he moved his hands off of yours, his eyes focused on your face as you gave him a slight nod.

“Yeah, I think I got it. Seems simple enough.”

“Let’s just hope you don’t have to use it. Just giving it to ya as an extra precaution.” He said as he gently grabbed the gun from your grip and set it down on the coffee table. “When you’re feelin better, I'll teach you how to properly shoot. You’re gonna need to know how if you eventually want to go on more runs.”

He gave your calf a slight squeeze then, his eyes reassuring you that you’d be just fine, and you believed him. “Yeah, figured I would need to use one of these eventually.”

He slowly stood from the couch then, readjusting your blanket so that it covered your feet. Joel could be a real softy when he wanted to be. It was a rare occurrence for him to be gentle and patient with you. Those were two things that Joel Miller wasn’t the best at. With you, he made the effort and you greatly appreciated it.

Joel didn’t know what to say at that moment. He didn’t want to freak you out with the possibility that this fever could in fact take you out. He wanted you to remain calm for him, but this was shit he wasn’t good at. So all he could do now was look at you, taking a mental picture in his mind of your features, in case he never got to see them again. You both knew there was a possibility that you wouldn’t see each other again. That was just the cruel reality of the world you lived in now.

20 minutes had passed and Tess had come out of the bedroom, dressed with her bag over her shoulder, gun on her hip and her usual displeased look on her face when she saw that you were very much still alive.

“We gotta get movin, Joel.” She had walked past him into the kitchen, grabbing a small stash of food and shoved it in her backpack.

“I’ll be outside. So make it quick. I’d like to avoid running into any Fedra soldiers, and I’m not really in the mood to kill anyone this early if we can avoid it.” She laced her boots up then by the door and slipped her jacket on before taking one last look at you, shaking her head slightly as she slipped out the door, closing it behind her.

“Alright, doll. Remember what I said. Don’t give anyone the opportunity to shoot first, thumb over your thumb. Don’t go do somethin stupid either. Like shootin your ass off or somethin like that.” He adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder, as he looked at you.

“Joel, I’m not gonna go and shoot my ass off. I doubt I’ll be doing much of anything for the next few days.”

“I know, but I just wanted to make myself clear.” He walked over to you then, setting down a few books and a ration of food and a canister of water.

“You’ve made yourself as clear as day.”

He adjusted his gun on his holster then as he took one last look at you. “I’ll be back soon. I promise. Get some rest and don’t worry about Tess and I out there. We’ll be alright.” He wanted to hug you, kiss you even but time was ticking and he had to move.

You gave him a little salute then, watching his back turn as he walked towards the door and grabbed the handle, slowly turning it before he looked back at you, giving you a slight nod and then he was gone. You heard the sound of the door locking, and he had jiggled it for good measure. You could hear his and Tess’s footsteps echoing down the hall. Each step becoming softer, and softer till you could hear them no more. Now it was just you, in the dead silence of their apartment. You held his promise of return like an oath. Joel Miller was a lot of things, but he was not a liar. You knew he would return to you.

CHAPTER 5:

[deadgirlwalking91]

WIP Update

Honestly, I'm putting this out there more for my own accountability because now that work travels have (hopefully) slowed down (one trip to go in December!!!), I can focus more on my writing and wrap up some stuff!

Apologies for the lack of updates lately. Real life stuff has been incredibly hectic, but the good news is I should have a little more free time coming up so please keep your fingers crossed that the writing gods are good to me!

Thank You for the Venom 19

Publish by mid next-week at the very latest. Hoping to wrap up the entire fic by the end of the year.

Friends with Benefits 4

Publish by the end of the week; wrap up by mid-November (this was supposed to be completed by the end of October, whoops)

Three's Company

Publish by mid-November; but honestly you're all going to get snippets on here in the lead up, haha

I Don't Dance

Publish by the end of November; I promise I'm not ignoring this (as much as I whinge about this fic, I do enjoy writing it).

Thou Shalt Not aka Priest AU

Whenever Nerve and I get around to writing together next, haha

Sunday Morning

Need to plan. ETA unknown.

The Ghost of You

4 chapters outlined; need to keep planning and outlining. Posting will be dependent on when TYFTV wraps up.

Guitar(spear) Solos, Fuck Yeah!

Taking a little bit of a backburner with this one until I catch up... unless I'm hit with inspiration, haha.

The Rice Demon

Aim to finish by the end of November. Hilarity will ensue.

[asideoftrashplease]

I absolutely adore your 'Venti Can Do What He Wants" fanfiction! Kaeya and Venti's relation has so much potential and yet is such an underrated topic in the fandom, so thank you for writing this!

The cliffhanger in the last chapter is killing me tho, do you know when will you be posting the next chapter?

Hello! I'm SO VERY excited to hear that someone out there enjoyed Venti Can Do What He Wants <3 when I wrote it, I didn't know if many people would be interested in a Kaeya & Venti fic haha.

I'm actually hoping very VERY hard that we will get a Weinlesefest event this year. If we do, the final chapter will definitely come out during the event. If we get no news about Weinlesefest in the coming weeks, however, I'm told that Weinlesefest is based on Oktoberfest which starts in September and ends in the first or two week of October. I hope to get it out during this period, so before mid-October, but no 100% promises because my work is going to be busier than usual this month and next!

[mission-light-if]

Mission Light - Update 30.08.2024

Hello everyone,

I'm back after another month :)

It's currently summer break, so I don't have classes, but I've been working a bit more this month.

If you check the game site on itch.io, you'll see that most of the portraits are now up and finished. I still need to tweak some details for Hongyu and complete the portraits for Dominic and Aneka, which is why they're currently missing. I'll probably redraw all of them in the future as my art style evolves and I want all my artwork to be consistent.

The lawyer path is currently at around 90,000 words, including coding and the prologue. I've finished about two-thirds of it, which represents Part 1 of that chapter since I plan to release it in two parts. Right now, I'm polishing my writing, reviewing it, and fixing the coding and other details.

Part 2 is the other third missing, and I already have everything planned out, so I expect it to be completed much faster. I had to rewrite the chapter several times because I had new ideas for the story and the player character to better fit the narrative I want to tell.

I've also rewritten most of the prologue, primarily focusing on improving the writing and making small story and flavor adjustments to better align with the rest of the game. Now that I have a clearer vision of where the characters and story are headed, I can plan and write the other paths more efficiently.

I know I shouldn't make any promises, especially since I've struggled to meet deadlines in the past, but this time I'm feeling more confident. Since I'm mostly polishing and fixing minor issues, I'm aiming to release Part 1 next week and Part 2 likely by mid-to-late September, or maybe early October.

I'm so excited to see your reactions! When I update the game, I'll also share more about my intentions, what was going through my mind while writing, some sneak peeks for the future, and more.

See you soon!

Cassian

[iwriteasfotini]

Jegulus Excerpt

In honor of Jegulus day, I’m breaking my own rule and revealing something earlier than scheduled.

My whole series is based off some interesting astrological facts (not this one though). I’m going to post three little excerpts from Book 3 which is written from James’ POV. On Monday I shared some budding Wolfstar from The Heir and the Spare, and here is some budding Starchaser from Chapter VI (of a totally different book, just to clarify). 

The first Wednesday of October, James had the entire day lesson free after Transfiguration ended at nine forty-five. He had an essay to work on for Professor Flitwick, the topic being cheering charms, and two chapters to read for Ancient Runes, plus practice of the Relashio jinx for Mwalimu, but those things could wait until after he went flying. He bid a hasty farewell to the other boys, then hustled up to his dorm to grab his Nimbus and change into flying gear. 

It was just past ten when he made it to the quidditch pitch, having to walk most of the way down as the corridors were crowded during the passing period between lessons. Much to his chagrin, as he approached the pitch, he saw a slight figure in black robes mount a broomstick identical to James’ own and rocket into the air. The temptation was too great, James threw his leg over his own broom and shot off the ground, in pursuit of the other flier. 

His mysterious fellow swooped and dived, turning at high speed before rocketing off in the new direction. James followed as best he could, it was a great workout, not knowing what the other person was going to do, and then copying them. Finally, the flier pulled up, and it happened so fast James went rocketing past them before slowing his own broom and flipping around. 

And there, hovering in mid-air was Regulus Black. James did a double take, then let out a chuckle. 

“What’s so funny,” asked Regulus. 

“I didn’t know you could fly,” said James, and his mouth fell into a frown. This was not good. He would have to tell Marlene about this revelation immediately. Regulus on the Slytherin Quidditch Team would mean trouble for the rest of the school. 

“Well now you do,” Regulus flipped his broom around and rocketed off. But James was right on his tail. Regulus slowed again, and this time James came up beside him. 

“So, do you play quidditch?” said James; no subtly at all, that was him. 

“I play seeker.”

“But Black, other Black, female Black, plays seeker.”

Regulus nodded. 

“So, you aren’t playing this year but you want to play after she leaves?”

Regulus nodded. 

James let out a breath of relief. 

“That’s good news because I was about to inform my team Captain we needed to up our game if someone as good as you was flying on the Slytherin Team.”

“Guess you don’t have to try now, huh?” Regulus sneered. 

“We train plenty hard, thank you very much. But with a seeker like you, matches are going to last minutes, not hours. The strategy needs to be adjusted.”

Regulus shook his hair out of his eyes, and scoffed, “I’m so happy you won’t have to adjust your strategy then, for another year at least.”

James was thinking they now had an entire year to prepare for this inevitable situation, but he also said, “do you fly often?”

“Sometimes.”

“Me too.” 

But Regulus had apparently had enough. Without so much as a rude departing hand gesture, he plummeted to the ground and dismounted, walking with his broom back up towards the castle. James watched him go, shrugged, then went back to his own flying drills. If he and Sirius hadn’t been in their weird fighting-notfighting phase, he may have mentioned the unexpected meeting to him, as it was, he kept the information to himself. 

…

You can find more info on this series in my pinned post. Unfortunately, this is from Book 3, which is fully written but doesn’t have an announced posting date as of yet. But it’s coming to AO3, I promise! On Sunday I'm announcing the Title, POV, and posting date for Book 2 in my Weekly Update.

[andthekitchensinkao3]

Wip Wed-- Tuesday! October 8

Yes, I'm early. I blame @elodiah 😁 😘

A snippet from the upcoming chapter 10 of A Promise Kept, the BG3 Lokius crossover you never knew you wanted - in which the Fab Four (B-15, or 'Bea', O.B, Casey and Mobius) chat over mid-morning drinks. Also, there is scheming to be had. For Mobius is going to crash a royal wedding reception.

Tagging @thosegayoldmen @lokimobius @in-my-loki-feels @impulsemuppet @kcscribbler @devilbearingtrouble and anyone I have temporarily forgotten the username of. My brain is so full of ideas and stories it's unfortunately not unlike a goldfish's when it comes to things like names and such.

But enough about that. Enjoy this week's wall of text 😁

---

“Fix things?” Mobius stared at her, his mouth hanging open in search for something more logical to say. He didn’t find anything else. “I can’t fix things!”

“Of course you can!” Exclaimed Casey, the number one enabler of romantic entanglements that never ought to ’ve seen the light of day. Just because he was happily attached to O.B’s hip… And good for him. Good for them both.

“Yes, yes, of course he can,” said O.B. “But what did Odin say, exactly? Something’s going to happen at midnight on the thirtieth?”

“Yeah…” Mobius had another mouthful of whisky. “Something bad. But that’s-- That’s only half of it. He said he did something to Loki when he was a baby, something that changed him. And now it’s gonna come back and bite him in the ass.”

“Changed him?” O.B and Casey gave each other altogether too cerebral looks for Mobius’ liking, but only because he was about two stiff drinks removed from coming up with anything too brain-y on his own.

Casey made an impressive impersonation of Loki at the cobble party, touching his mouth and forehead, as if to check everything was still attached.

“Yeah…” said O.B. “‘Gotcha!’ Not so much.”

“That shit was creepy.” Bea’s verdict, that. “But not half as creepy as if it’s true. You think he saw… What? His ‘true form,’ or something? Didn’t look like he was hiding, though. More like it’s been kept secret from him all this time.”

“Whatever it was, it scared him.” Mobius downed his double shot of firewhisky in one go. If not for the conversation having taken this route, he might’ve ordered another one. To have, or have not. Or… something along those lines. “And whatever’s going to happen to him, it’s gonna be midnight. On the brink of Midsummer.”

“A night of magic,” said Bea.

“Wild magic,” said O.B, nodding with fresh excitement. “Chaotic, twisted, powerful magic.”

Casey rubbed O.B’s forearm, a soft smile playing with his features. “What are you going to do?” 

“I’m going to be there for it. Even if I have to crash the wedding reception.” Mobius had an inkling they all knew what he was going to say. That the question was more for his sake than theirs. To get him to open up. “And I want you there with me. Bea?”

“I got your six.” She put two fingers to her forehead, saluting the table. “Guard duty. Portyr wants his finest in attendance.”

“Yesss.” Mobius clenched his fist in the first jolt of delight since this morning. It was… beyond good to have his family with him. Even if it didn’t go beyond talking about things. “Casey? O.B?”

“O.B already got his invitation,” Casey said, beaming with pride. “I’m his plus one.”

With a name like Ouroborous, Mobius had once joked, you had to be some kind of nobility. As it turned out O.B was indeed the last in a long line of noble Ouroborouses, hailing from Neverwinter - and that was no joking matter. Neverwinter had spawned its fair share of geniuses and explorers and craftsman, and O.B was right up there with the best of them.

“Then… We have an idea, if not a plan.”

“It’s more than we had five minutes ago.” Bea patted his back with a small smile and stood. “You can wash down all that whisky with my ale, if you promise to sleep it off and not go do something stupid until I get off my shift.”

“Back to work, huh?”

“For me, yeah. You? You’re going straight to bed. No talking to Renslayer.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Bea made verbose gestures at the dynamic duo on the other side of the table, leaving Mobius in their capable hands. “Behave. And make sure he does too.”

Bea’s departure might have put a halt to their morning-to-noontime drinking, but the second she was out of sight and earshot O.B picked up his wooden chair and scooched on over to sit beside him. Behind his thick-framed glasses his eyes shone with intrigue. “The thing Odin spoke about. That happens on the brink of Midsummer.”

“Yeah?” Mobius arched his eyebrows, grateful he had buddies to take care of the cerebral end of things. Sober things. “What about it?”

“Is it a curse? A bargain? A contract?”

“Right. Right…” Mobius waggled his index finger at his friends. His best buds. His non-combatant comrades-in-arms. “Because the distinction is important.”

“If it’s a contract on paper, it can be burned, and they say oral agreements aren’t worth anything. I mean, legally speaking they’re as binding as anything, but really.”

“Depends on the tongue speaking the terms, eh?” Mobius teased his friend.

“But if it’s a poem, or even music? That’s trickier. I hear devils are fond of ear worms with finicky lyrics.”

“I don’t know, O.B.” Mobius let out a heavy sigh that spawned somewhere in his toe region. Twinkly, they were not. Heavy and aching, on the other hand. “Sorry.”

O.B clinked his glass with Mobius’ adopted pint of ale. “It was worth a shot. But I was thinking, if it’s time-specific, or temporally contingent, I could test my new invention. You don’t think Loki would be at all interested in ”

“He's finished another prototype,” Casey informed him, brimming with pride. “Tell him!”

“Yeah!” Mobius shoved his ale into O.B’s drink with friendly encouragement, and a touch too much force. Ale sloshed over the edges and over his hand. “Whatcha workin’ on?”

O.B didn’t mind the mess. He reached for his trusty tool belt, and his hand-dandy handkerchief to mop up the worst of the ale. His grin was nothing short of alarming. “A temporal aura synchronizer.”

[septima-severa]

Chapter 4 excerpt from Thrawn x reader continuation

Long time, no see. I have been a little busy and my schedule is getting crazier with the end of the year approaching faster than a freight train. I have had only a little time since October to refine and continue the story (two days to be exact), but hey, I'm trying...

So far, the first four chapters are without Thrawn physically present, except for some flashbacks and weird dreams. And now, I'm slowly steering towards the meeting point with the Chimaera again, yay! But before that, let me show you the latest part with which I have been struggling nowadays.

Senior Captain Sacher had departed early at the morning of your first day at the ranch. Soon enough, you had fallen into a routine, and got properly introduced to Cohbo’rik’ardok, your host. Overjoyed that you had found Rishmu, that she was alright and really there with you, you would have forgotten about the raging conflict practically knocking on the door. Although news were scarce and far between, you had a feeling this hadn’t been a full attack, merely a test. A test the Chiss struggled to complete. It had been days before a message arrived. Since then, however, you were on edge.

Patriarch knows. – E.

If the beeping of the half-forgotten questis startled you, the short communique from Vanto made the hairs on your neck stand. Apparently, he also contacted Vah’nya because she burst into the room only milliseconds later.

You had only one question for her – forget who this patriarch wasor what he would possibly want from an alien – “How?”

“No idea,” she shook her head. “We only suspect it has to do with Mitth’raw’nuruodo and the information of his whereabouts…”

“But I don’t know where he is! Our galaxy is vast and… and…” Oh no, that dream – “he could be dead,” your voice broke mid-sentence. “He-he promised to… to find me… when it was over.”

“What is supposed to be over?”

You had told only Supreme Admiral Ar’alani, and even then, you had not been able to supply all the details. She had been obviously displeased hearing about petty grievances in a galaxy that had not concerned the Chiss anymore since the destruction of the Death Star and subsequent fall of the only probable threat that could come from that direction: the Empire. She had expected Thrawn to return to the Ascendancy and had told you so, although her reasons as to why had been omitted from your conversation –

It clicked.

“She wants me to find him, right? But I’m not a navigator. I can’t just go on a blind hunt through the universe.”

“That’s not for me to tell. Supreme Admiral Ar’alani wants to speak with you.”

“Now?”

The conversation left you mentally exhausted. Ar’alani had offered explanations only vague at best, sending your mind into a turmoil that didn’t subside even when you handed the borrowed comm device back to Vah’nya. Someone loyal to the Mitth patriarch had seen you onboard. They had ratted you out before she could take care of the mole in her crew. The hunt was on. How were you supposed to process that? You agreed to her plan only reluctantly, and now had to make yourself ready.

To leave your children with Borika –

In just three rotations –

At least she hadn’t mentioned your detour to Ool. By then you were sure that coming to Csilla would pose a risk to your person.

Later, you ate the supper slowly, completely oblivious to the chatter around you. Cohbo’rik’ardok eyed you with concern, frowning at your plate, its contents not shrinking. As if she wanted to remind you that you should eat more. But you couldn’t, your stomach still in nervous knots. Once you were fed up with her strange look, you excused yourself and went to the garden hidden behind the house. A few lit lanterns cast only a dim light onto the unkept bushes, its reflections dancing on the surface of a few puddles left behind after the rain. Stars were blinking over your head.

Stepping down the stone stairs, you located the bench to perch on with your back towards the door. “Maker help me,” you mumbled, looking up at the starry sky while dampness seeped through your robes. Taking a sequence of deep breaths, you attempted meditation.

The path you were following in the World between Worlds seemed to lead you nowhere. Your silent steps sent ripples through its translucent surface like you were walking on water. The place was deserted as far as you could see, until a fog rose and shrouded you in its veil.

Once you emerged on the other side, you found yourself at the darkened command bridge of a Star Destroyer. A lone figure you would recognise anywhere was standing with their back turned towards you, gazing out of the transparisteel windows in contemplation. You saw the weight on his shoulders.

“Thrawn,” you whispered, afraid that if you said his name out loud, this all would be just a dream that would dissolve and leave you abandoned in the darkened gardens somewhere far, far away –

– you still couldn’t believe how easy it was to get here today, either.

He let you approach him so close you were able to raise your hand and touch his shoulder lightly. You watched it, mesmerised, as it appeared to… glow?

He turned, a stern expression marring his face. His look was haunted, wild even, and you gasped upon seeing how older he seemed in just a few months since you had parted with him. However, when his eyes focused on your person standing there before him, his features softened. “Ch’acah,” he breathed, and caught himself mid-motion as his arm rose to touch your cheek, letting it fall to his side again.

“Thank Maker, you’re alive,” you offered him a sad smile, unable to really feel his skin under your fingers. It was maddening, but you were so starved for his presence that you would contemplate yourself with anything at that moment.