#because the rain was turning to a fog and the cars were kicking up clouds of steam

[alsikeclovers]

... ^_^

[arvandus]

Heyo, could I request #25, Shigaraki and fluff? Congrats on 500!!!!!!

This is my first time writing for Shigaraki, and I must say I totally enjoyed it once I got the rhythm/mood for the scene. I hope you like it! (I also hope you’re still around to see this, since this request was done via anon back in March)

Pairing: Shigaraki x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1707

Warnings: None; just fluffy, soft shiggy

25. “Stay.”

The night sky is heavy with clouds, their thick underbellies colored a sickly greyish brown from the pollution of city lights. You can smell the moisture in the air as you and Shigaraki walk down the now empty streets. Most of the city is asleep now, with only the occasional nocturn passing by – nightshift workers, bar hoppers, seedy dealers. But no matter who passes by, they always steer clear of the two of you. Shigaraki has that effect on people, his presence triggering people’s basic survival instincts that are buried deep in their subconscious.

He doesn’t have that effect on you, though, at least not anymore. It isn’t to say that you don’t recognize his power or his brutality, but you know that you would never be a target of it. With Shigaraki, you are safe. There’s an unspoken alliance between you, built over shared experiences and mutual respect. And it is through this unusual comradery that you’ve grown to understand Shigaraki and, in secret, grown to like him.

He doesn’t know about that last part, though. And you certainly aren’t going to tell him any time soon.

The clouds above deliver on their promise with a sudden crack of thunder that takes you by surprise, followed by an immediate downpour of heavy, thick droplets that immediately soak into your clothes, matting them to your skin. It roars around you, gusts of wind whipping up walls of rain that yank your drenched clothes around your body.

“Shit.” Shigaraki growls. He doesn’t even bother to try to cover himself from the storm, instead letting nature beat itself against him fruitlessly as he stands still as a stone.

Your eyes quickly search for a safe space. You spot a closed store front with an awning over the entrance, a red neon “CLOSED” sign beckoning you to safety with each flicker.

“This way.” You shout over the rain. You hook your arm with his and lead him to the covered space with a run. He doesn’t fight you as your feet splash through the wet puddles already forming on the broken sidewalk, and you pray you don’t slip on the slick concrete, bringing Shigaraki down with you.

Once you’re safe under the awning, you look at Shigaraki and burst into laughter. He is drenched from head to toe, his messy locks lying flat and heavy with water as small rivulets run down his cheeks and his nose. His mouth is pulled into a frown as he looks down at you with annoyance.

“Why are you laughing?�� he grumbles. His voice is nearly lost to the drumming of the rain on the metal above you, but you see the words on his chapped lips.

“I mean, look at us...” you giggle. “It’s pretty funny. We’re completely soaked, like two drenched, angry cats.”

“I’d hardly consider that funny.” He replies. The sourness of his tone only makes you giggle harder as you struggle to compose yourself.

“Sometimes, Shig, you just have to savor the moment for what it is.” You explain as you watch the rain fall. “We can’t change it, so we might as well find the humor in it.”

You look back at him, expecting to your eyes to lock with his, only to find find him staring down at your hand – the hand that is still curled around his arm, your fingers nestled into the crook of his elbow.

“Oh,” you exclaim as you relinquish your grip. “Um, sorry.”

He looks up at you finally and you freeze, expecting to see anger in his ruby depths at your audacity. Instead, you find only confusion – raw and strangely innocent in its genuineness. That almost scares you more than his anger because you can’t explain it, you can’t understand its source or what it means. All you do know is that you feel like his eyes are somehow unlocking your own defenses, his blood-red gaze sinking deeper and deeper into you until you have to avert your eyes before he discovers what lies beneath.

Shigaraki doesn’t give so much as a noncommittal grunt to your rushed apology as you look away. Silence falls like a blanket, suffocating and warm, and your heart flutters like a moth as you bask in Shigaraki’s presence. You watch the sheets of rain come down, glittering drops dancing in the pull and ebb of the wind that beats against your pant legs. As you watch quietly, your fingers curl together as the memory of the feel of Shigaraki’s arm lingers on your fingertips.

You don’t know if he’s watching the rain the same as you, or if his eyes are elsewhere – tracing the curves of your profile or watching your clenched hands that were clinging to him so comfortably just moments before. You resist the urge to look at him again out of fear of getting caught, even though you swear you can still feel his eyes on you. But eventually the two of you fall into a shared calmness – a small, peaceful haven in a wild, violent world. The storm fades to a gentler rain after a couple of minutes pass, and it’s in that moment that time seems to slow down. It’s like standing inside a watercolor painting, the bright colors of the neon signs and streetlights reflecting off the rivers of water racing across the pavement. They mix and blend into a sea of colors as the raindrops sparkle in the lamplight like diamonds. Let your vision blur just enough, and it’s as if you’re in the center of the universe, floating amongst the stars and nebulas, and you and Shigaraki are two celestial bodies locked in orbit around each other, pulled together yet still achingly separate in a perfect balance of gravity.

The rain stops as suddenly as it came, bringing with it a numb silence before the tinkling sound of water returns to your years. It sounds like bells. There are the small bells that ring like windchimes as water drips through the trees, bouncing from leaf to leaf to finally land on the tops of cars and trash can lids. There are the heavy bells that sound a gong, big fat drops that fall from the rooftop architecture to resound on the awning above your heads. And there’s all the other sounds in between – the passing hum of the occasional car, their tires kicking up oil-slicked spray from the black streets; the rivers flooding down into the rain gutters that sit like wide, open mouths drinking thirstily; the soft gust of wind that makes the signs swing on creaky hinges. It’s beauty in every sense of the word, every detail perfect in its own way.

You want to stay here, to linger with Shigaraki and savor the quiet beauty that’s spread out before you. But the chill is soaking into your bones now, your fingertips icy numb. You inhale a deep breath of cold, wet air and let out a sigh as your breath fogs the space in front of you. “Looks like it’s over, for now...” you say. “We should get going.”

You take a step forward. But before you can duck out from beneath the now-dripping sun shade, a finger hooks with yours, halting your escape.

“Stay.” The word falls softly from his lips, barely audible.

You turn to look at him, your eyes wide, mouth parted. A rogue droplet of rainwater rolls down your cheek before catching in the corner of your mouth. You lick at it, taking it in on your tongue and Shigaraki is watching, his ruby eyes nearly black in the night.

He gives a gentle tug with his pinky and you follow his lead, closing the gap between you as you rejoin him. The corners of his mouth no longer pull into a frown or even a grin – instead they hold the slightest hint of a curve, barely noticeable unless you’re standing as close to him as you are. It adds a softness to his features that you’d never seen before. And his eyes... they’ve gone from hard-cut gems to liquid pools, his brow free of the usual stress lines and his lids relaxed as he looks down at you. The thumb of his free hand comes up to brush against your lower lip and you inhale at the feel of his calloused touch – a touch so destructive and yet, in this moment, so tender.

“Wh...what are you doing?” you whisper.

“Savoring the moment.” He replies.

You swallow the lump in your throat – surely it must be your heart, trying to escape with its newfound wings – and close your eyes, falling deeper into the sensation of his touch on your sensitive skin. Time freezes and you’re stuck in this moment hanging in blissful limbo. Surely, you’d wanted. You’d wanted, but never actually thought, never hoped, not even for the slightest moment...

You hear the rustle of his jacket and time springs forward again, bringing with it the softest brush of his lips against yours. They’re chapped and scarred, a rough, imperfect offering of himself. His lips move with inexperience dressed in uncertainty, but you accept it gratefully, your body leaning into the kiss, your lips sharing in the slow dance with his own.

Just as your free hand finds itself on the line of his jaw, the wet strands of his hair tickling the back of your palm, he pulls away slightly, breaking the kiss. He stares at you with a tender gaze and for the first time you feel a peacefulness emanating from him that wasn’t there before. It mirrors the quiet evening surrounding you, a calm that can only be felt when its existence is put in contrast to the storm the came before it.

You smile at him softly as you move your position to stand next to him. With your pinkies still linked, you rest your head on his shoulder and watch as the rain begins to fall again. Shigaraki is like the storm - a hurricane of rage and pain that takes no prisoners, yet beautiful in his destructive force. But for now.... for now, you’re both sitting in his center, in the eye where the air is still and the skies are clear, and you see a different kind of beauty, a beauty that you weren't sure existed in him. And you know that as long as you stay by his side, you’re safe.

[gryffindors-weasley]

Home

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: With the wizarding war finally put behind you, Draco feels as though it’s time for a change.

Warnings: mentions of the war, mild angst, mentions of anxiety, fluff, lots of kisses

It had been rather dreary when morning finally rolled around at the Manor, puffy gray clouds covering the expanse of the sky as rain drizzled steadily. The weather appeared to be sticking around for a while, and it left Draco grumbling over his morning cup of coffee in disapproval as he watched the rain drops trickle down the windowpanes one after another.

“Is that a hint, Draco?” You inquire, raising a curious brow at him as you tried to pull any bit of information from him you can. You make your way around the large kitchen table to where he leaned against the marble counter, standing on your tip-toes and kissing his cheek sweetly.

“Consider it your only one, my Darling. I’m not allowing you to spoil any more surprises.”

That last part is spoken against your lips, lips that soon meld together in a lovingly gentle kiss that tasted of coffee and cream. You sigh softly when you parted, but your longing for clues is just barely appeased for the time being. However, you were not letting this go and he knew it.

He was beginning to regret telling you about such surprises the day before because you hadn’t stopped asking for bits and pieces since, even going so far as to waking him in the middle of the night. You claimed you couldn’t sleep from the excitement, and he hadn’t minded the sweet kisses you had given to wake him. But now he was rather tired.

He watched after you with a soft smile as you disappeared from the large room momentarily, coming back with your coat and shoes on.

“Are you ready, love?”

Your tone was ever so sweet with more than a hint of excited impatience laced amongst your words. He was ready, save for his shoes. You had thought he’d looked absolutely handsome, though his choice in clothes had given no indication of what the plan was for the day. He was dressed in a simple gray t-shirt and a pair of black pants, rolled up once or twice at the ankles. At first he thought it looked absolutely ridiculous, but with a lot of wearing down on your end, he finally caved. His hair was a mess, icy blonde strands dipping down in his eyes as a chunk stuck out rebelliously in the very back. He had a habit of leaving his bedhead untouched much to his mothers dismay.

He set his mug down with a soft sigh and brushed past you with a tired kiss and a hum in response, moving to slip on his shoes. He grabbed his keys from a curved iron hook at the large double doors after he slipped on his jacket, laughing to himself as you eagerly skip ahead of him down the grand stone steps of the Manor and towards the car. The two of you could easily apparate just about anywhere in a matter of seconds, but Draco found he liked the experience of a road trip better. It was a way for him to clear his head when he found himself overwhelmed; that and it gave him more time alone with you. So he bought a car.

It wasn’t brand new or extravagantly fancy like one would expect from a Malfoy; it was a vintage Volkswagen Beetle. In all honesty, it hadn’t been his first choice and maybe not even his second or third. But you lit up immediately when you saw the little yellow car and he didn’t have it in him to get anything else. He found he’d do anything just to see you smile.

“Come on!” You call out, ducking into the car as he shakes his head with a chuckle.

He rushed to the drivers side before the rain could pelt on him too much, brushing the dampened hair away that stuck to his forehead.

“Have you always been this impatient?” He quips, laughing out when you swat his arm lightly in protest. His smile is nothing short of adoring as he leans across the center console, his fingers splayed over your cheek. “I’m only kidding, darling.”

His words are soft against your lips as he kisses you sweetly, reluctantly pulling away to start the car. However, his hand quickly finds yours as he drives down the stone path and away from the Manor, his soft smile never faltering as your fingers intertwine out of absentminded habit.

“Am I dressed too casually?” You ask, playing with his fingers as your enveloped hands sat in your lap.

“You look beautiful.”

You bite back your smile as you look ahead with a fluttering heart, and he sneaks a glance your way at the lack of response.

“What?” He asks.

“I’m starting to think you’ll always say that,” you sigh, looking at him with a raised brow.

“Because you always are,” he counters without second thought and you’ve got nothing else to say. He smiles triumphantly as a rosy blush stains your cheeks and you settle for playing with the ring on his finger instead, but not before turning on the radio.

A quiet laugh left your lips at his immediate grumbling, loathing the choice in music, he wasn’t too fond of ABBA and Fleetwood Mac just yet. But if it meant he’d gotten to hear your voice when you sing he’d listen to it everyday.

It was a concept that scared him a bit if he lingered on the thought for too long. From experiencing very little love at all to feeling an insurmountable desire for it was something new to him. Something he had been apprehensive to fully accept in fear that it’d slip from his fingers if he basked in it too much. He wasn’t used to things working in his favor after all. But you came into his life and turned his very world upside down in the best of ways, and he found it impossible not to give in to the love blossoming in his chest and taking over his entire being, nor did he want to.

But he still had his doubts, he still wondered how someone as truly magnificent as you could give your heart to a Malfoy. That simple fact still baffled him each and every time it crossed his mind, had you not realized? Regardless, he had intentions of loving you for as long as you’d let him.

You found yourself looking over at him with a smile after a little while, admiring the way waves of platinum hung over his forehead and brushed over his dark lashes. The way his thumb absentmindedly tapped at the steering wheel as he hummed softly along with the radio; he’d insisted he hated this song in particular but you knew that to be false. He looked nothing short of adorable as his gaze flickered around the little town you drove through, concentration etched into his expression.

“I’m aware of your staring, you know,” he says with a knowing smirk, looking over to confirm his suspicions. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re madly in love with me.”

Without hesitation, you leaned over and brought him close, pressing a kiss on his cheek and another to the freckle on his jaw. His smile was instant, the softest of blushes coloring his cheeks.

“Love, if you keep doing that I’m going to miss my turn,” he chuckles, glancing over to you.

You sigh as your thumb runs along his cheek softly and he tries his hardest not to flush any deeper than that. Though in a matter of moments, luck seemed to be on his side as the traffic light ahead turned from yellow to red. He pulled your hand from his face gently and leaned over, pressing his lips on yours in a tender kiss. He’d been dying to do so the very moment he pulled away from the Manor and he took advantage of the opportunity the second he was given one.

A horn soon blared behind him and with a startled glance his eyes land on a very green traffic light, but still he steals another quick peck before continuing on with the trip with a racing heart.

“Am I just too distracting?” You jest, sticking your hand out the window to feel the breeze now that the rain had subsided for now.

“You have no idea,” he chuckles softly as he smiles fondly at the road ahead.

—

Another twenty minutes had passed before Draco pulled into a smaller neighborhood, promptly telling you to close your eyes. You did so, but not without a dramatic sigh from you, and you missed the way a soft look of excitement had painted its way across his face.

A few turns were made before the car had come to a stop, Draco instructing you to stay put with a kiss to your cheek. He rushed around to the other side of the car eagerly, opening your door. With gentle actions he got you from the car and kicked the door shut behind him, snaking his arm around your waist.

“Don’t look yet, darling,” Draco urges, his hand over yours to ensure you weren’t peeking as he carefully guided you to wherever it was you had been. You playfully try and do the opposite of his words, laughing out when he squeezes you close.

He turns on his heel and steps in front of you to pull his hand away, allowing you to drop yours as he tucks your hair behind your ear.

“Ideally, I could have done without the rain, and maybe it could be a bit warmer too—” His words are quickly cut off by your protest, and he kisses your lips once more. He takes a breath as he looks at you for a few fleeting moments, stepping to the side.

A cottage stands before you, nestled comfortably amongst many others in the quiet neighborhood. You look at him with a puzzled expression, but he’s got a smile that won’t seem to go away.

It was obscenely beautiful, ivy tangling on every corner of the house, sticking to the gray stone slabs of its walls. The rooftop was slanted downward with dark slate colored shingles, a matching chimney on either side. Deep green shutters line each slightly fogged window and colorful flowers reached just under their windowsills. A beautifully aged wrought iron fence surrounded the perimeter, creaking rather noisily when opened. The door was hardwood, painted a matching green with a small arched window at the very top.

Clusters of wildflowers had dotted amongst the lush grass, and a blossoming tree stood on either side of the pathway, sending flower petals fluttering to the ground like rain.

It looked like a place taken right out of a fairytale.

“Why are we at someone’s house?”

He stands there timidly, his smile growing as rain droplets catch in his platinum hair.

“It’s not just someone’s house,” He laughs softly, scratching the back of his neck. The nerves swirl in his stomach as the words catch in his throat briefly. “It’s ours.”

Not completely, a few documents needed signing, but it was yours. It had been Madam Pomfrey’s home, but as of late she’d decided that a smaller residence much closer to Hogwarts would be far more manageable. Draco had been her first and only choice to offer her beloved home to, considering him to be an honorable young healer who made a concerted effort to turn his life around.

The generous offer was one Draco couldn’t object to, finding that another minute living within the Manor would surely be maddening. It wasn’t that the two of you had outgrown it in the six years you’d spent there after the war. He’s not sure if even the entire student body of Hogwarts could outgrow it, it was large and luxurious. But it wasn’t comfortable to reside in a place that held such undesirable memories, he felt as though it wasn’t allowing him to move on from that time in his life just half a decade prior.

His father had just over half his sentence left in Azkaban and he wouldn’t be coming home in the near future, but he wasn’t fond of running into him again. Draco felt being on opposite ends of the Manor was not enough distance, especially when his father had an unwavering distaste for the love of his life. He wanted a place where he could live freely, a place where he was able to kiss you and love you wherever he pleased. And this was it.

Your confusion had only grown in that very moment, your brows knitting together as you narrow your eyes curiously at him. You opened your mouth to speak, but weren’t exactly sure what to say as shock still had its hold on you.

Before you could find the words, Draco grabbed your hand, tugging you along the mossy cobblestone walkway. “Come on.”

He plucked a small silver key from under a flowerpot and stuck it in the lock, turning back to look at you with a sheepish grin before twisting the copper doorknob.

The moment he opened the door you were hit with the scent of cinnamon and sugar, the sweet air adding a certain warmth to the place. The cozy living room was furnished with an armchair in the far corner and you assumed it was intentionally placed by the window for reading, a yellow knit blanket strewn across the tattered leather. An aged brick fireplace was paces away from it, and a loveseat adorned the opposite wall with a worn flannel blanket draped over the arm. The walls were painted a beautiful sage green, wood beams stretching across the ceiling as a lamp or two lit up the room in a warm glow.

Your hand immediately slipped from his the moment your eyes landed on the bookshelf along the wall, nearly full of books that looked quite familiar. Too familiar not to notice.

“So this is where my books have disappeared to?”

The quiet laugh behind you was confirmation enough as you ran your fingers across the worn spines. A framed picture came into view, a picture of the two of you captured within it. When you turn to him with an amused expression and a raised brow his cheeks flush a pale pink as he shrugs his shoulders, scratching the back of his neck once more.

“I wanted to see how it’d look,” he defends, clearly flustered the more you linger on the subject.

You roll your eyes as you kiss his cheek, taking his hand again. “Alright, Malfoy, take me to the next room.”

The kitchen was noticeably different than the one at your current home. Instead of obsidian black cabinets, these were a light rusted color. Rather than a large mahogany kitchen table, there was a small circular one located just below a window. Small plants resided on the windowsill over the sink, teacups hanging by their handles on a set of brass hooks on the soft yellow wall. What was quite possibly the cutest part was the jade colored oven and it’s matching fridge. It was a delightfully vibrant contrast to the color palette of grays and charcoals and whites adorning the furniture at the Manor.

You were seconds away from tugging back the frilly cream curtains over the windows when Draco stopped you.

You gave him a curious look and he gave one back as he pulled you along to another hallway. With each and every room the two of you had looked at, the more anxious Draco had become. He hadn’t told you about it first, after all. He was starting to wonder if you’d even liked it, he was starting to wonder if you’d been mad that he went out and did this on his own without your input.

“Draco!”

He’s quickly pulled from his thoughts before he gets too tangled up in them, finding you running your hands over the navy blue velvet pillows of the window seat in your soon-to-be bedroom. The look on your face is nothing but one of excitement and joy, and it eases the tension in his body and the nerves bubbling in his stomach.

You’d been mentioning your desire for a window seat ever since sixth year when you sat along the grand windowsills of the castle. You insisted there was no better place to read than that, and he hadn’t forgotten. He certainly knew it’d be more comfortable to sit in when you inevitably fall asleep on his chest. He didn’t know how much more his body could take of slumping against cold stone when you fell asleep after hushed stories of classic novels had been abandoned in empty corridors. However, he couldn’t bring himself to wake you when you were so content.

“I knew you’d like it the moment I saw it,” he chuckles, bringing you close by a grip on your hands.

“You remembered,” you say softly, the tip of his nose brushing against yours as he laughs against your lips.

“How could I forget?” You respond with a sweet kiss, his hands squeezing yours gently before letting them go in favor of wrapping around your waist. His lips parted from yours to press chaste kisses to your nose, to your cheek, ever so tenderly to the underside of your jaw, and perhaps the softest to ghost over your neck. He has to stop himself before he becomes to distracted with you. “There’s one more suprise, darling.”

His words are whispered against your hair as he kisses your temple, and you’re quick to grab his hands. “What are we waiting for?”

You follow him down the curved staircase and once you reach the bottom he asks you to close your eyes once again. This time you do so without protest, his hand warm in yours as he pulls you outside. The chilly spring temperatures were a noticeable contrast to the warmth inside the cottage but you didn’t mind it very much.

“I thought you would like this the most,” he smiles, squeezing your hand before you open your eyes.

The sight before you was unlike any other you’d ever seen. Vibrant green grass served as pathways amongst the flowerbeds that curved around them. Dozens of meticulously placed floral bushes filled the space, neatly trimmed and well cared for. Wooden pergola’s with beautiful archways had stood between arrangements of fluffy hydrangeas, curls of vines snaking up its rain soaked beams to form a cluster of greenery and flowers atop it.

The gardens at Malfoy Manor seemed to have paled in comparison to this. It may not have been even half the size of Narcissa’s, but it held a different kind of beauty, one that cannot be put into words. Perhaps you deemed it better because it was your own. One that didn’t house memories of secret rendezvous’ in the late hours of the night to share hushed kisses behind moss-covered statues as teens. Staying up running hand in hand through rows of pristine red roses, sharing whispered ‘I love you’s’ under glowing moonlight and twinkling stars.

It was new and it was beautiful. It was yours.

New kisses could be shared with disregard for prying eyes, declarations of love could be shouted without repercussion. Draco could pluck as many flowers as he wanted to for you without being scolded by his mother for missing blossoms.

Utterly enchanted, you walk along the winding green paths, your fingertips brushing over soft flower petals as the light rain droplets collected across your cheeks. Draco was in tow, but found himself too enamored by you to put one foot in front of the other, deciding he was perfectly content with admiring you from afar.

The scent of flowers and rain flooded your senses with every step you took, and as if you weren’t already in love with this place, surely you were now.

You twirl once in the blooming garden, it’s flowers vibrant and thriving against the pale gray sky. It was when you stopped to stand still with a jovial laugh that your eyes landed on Draco. He stood there, hands by his sides as he looked at you with such fondness your heart fluttered in your chest and a soft shade of scarlet colored your cheeks.

You were quick to close any remaining gap between you, your arms wrapping around his neck as you lean on your toes and kiss him. He drops the keys he’d been holding as his hands settle on your rosy cheeks, and he steadies himself from your sudden embrace. Your fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck gingerly, a small laugh escaping your lips and breaking the kiss. But you weren’t quite finished, chasing after his lips for another soft peck.

“Does this mean you like it?” He asks softly, tracing his finger down the length of your neck and back again to rest under your chin.

Your smile was bright as you look up at him, your fingers trailing down his shoulders to play with the buttons of his coat. His pale blue eyes were full of hope as his thumb brushes over your jaw before dropping to your waist to pull you closer.

“I love it,” you murmur against his lips. His breath fanned across your own in an airy laugh, his forehead resting on yours only briefly. “You bought us a house!”

“Well, technically Madam Pomfrey—”

You put your finger over his lips with a laugh, effectively quieting him as a soft smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. He grabbed your wrist softly and pulled your hand away, sighing as you turn around to admire the sweet little home once more. His arms circle around your waist as you lean back against his chest, stifling a laugh when you feel the soft kisses he’s peppering across the crook of your neck.

It really was beautiful, down to every last detail one could possibly think of. It was almost unbelievable how a place so wonderful could exist, how it could be yours. But Draco had always been full of surprises, you learned that rather quickly.

In a matter of moments, the rain increased to a pace too hard to ignore and you gasp at the cold droplets hitting your skin. You were quick to grab his hand, rushing off to the nearest pergola for some form of shelter from it. The flower covered trellis only gave way to a few splashes but it didn’t seem to matter in that current moment.

Your laughter died down to an airy giggle, your hands resting on his chest. His cheeks were flushed from the brisk spring weather as he gazed down at you, his thumb tracing over your lip before his fingers swept over your cheek. He was completely obvious with his admiring, his eyes bouncing from the freckles on your cheeks—ones that could only be seen at such a proximity— to your very irresistible lips, and back to your eyes.

“Are you sure you like it?” Hesitancy has woven its way around his quiet words. It was a big commitment after all, and it wasn’t something he was accustomed to just yet, especially at twenty-four. But what weighed on his mind was the possibility that you would come to regret making such a choice—with him. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you pretended to ponder the question, but you couldn’t bring yourself to continue for a moment longer with the way he’d been looking at you. In a wordless response you press your lips on his softly, parting for only a moment before he pulls you closer for another. Any doubts he may have held had vanished from his mind your lips meld with his in a lingering kiss.

His cheeks are more flushed than before as you pull away to look at him, the sight of your kiss swollen lips making it hard to focus on anything else.

“Draco Malfoy, I’d go anywhere as long as I’m with you.”

—

Tags: @amourtentiaa

[arsenic-posts-shit]

~+Petrichor+~

Petrichor (n): a pleasant smell that frequently accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather.

Hi everyone! I’m back in business!! I won’t be posting frequently because I’m trying not to have another huge burnout like last time, and I haven’t had many ideas lately... I’m working on the 3rd part of Golden Hours right now! I have to rewrite it entirely. But until then, I’m going to post this, which was inspired by “Umbrella” by Ember Island. Also tell me if I made any mistakes with pronouns. Enjoy!

f/e: favorite tea, f/d: favorite donut, e/c: eye color, h/c: hair color

-+The rain poured down on the roof of the coffee shop that the two were in. The pair was outside, enjoying their respected drinks and snacks, but once it started to sprinkle they quickly retreated to the indoor seating. Y/N shook the water droplets out of their hair as the the two stepped inside.

“Christ that came fast!” Y/N sighed loudly. “I didn’t even know it was supposed to rain, I would’ve brought a coat!” Their body shuddered as they clutched their arms. Of course, Y/N had decided to pick a very light outfit that day. Mondo frowned, sighing as he rang out his hair the best he could without ruining it too much. Though it was already falling apart, so there was hardly a point anymore.

“I did tell you it was going to rain.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t believe you! You’re not a weatherman.” Y/N pouted. “You’re normally the wrong one. Plus it was super nice out, minus the clouds.” They usually liked it cloudier anyway, and a little rain, but this was a little excessive. If it wasn’t summer you’d think it was hail. Y/N sauntered up to the side of the counter where you’d return your tea cups. Dumping out the rest of the now ruined cup of f/t, they placed it next to all the other empty cups. Y/N somberly returned to Mondo’s side. “Did you save the donuts?” Mondo held out his empty hand. A defeated groan escaped Y/N’s lips.

“Hey, at least we got a couple in our system.” Mondo smiled half heartedly. Y/N nodded, somber about the lost donuts.

“Yeah, at least.” The two sat down at an empty booth, attempting to wait out the rain. Mondo had actually come prepared, wearing a brown jacket and jeans, so he was doing much better than Y/N. Y/N turned their head out to the window, watching the aggressive rain hit the ground and roofs. Mondo turned his head to watch as well.

“It’s not supposed to end for a couple hours.” Y/N stayed silent for a few minutes. The smell of coffee and sweet filled the pair’s nostrils, along with the very faint scent of the rain that remained absorbed into them. The male stood up and retreated. Y/N did not look where.

…

A couple minutes later, he returned with a second cup and 2 donuts wrapped in a napkin. One f/d and one with chocolate glaze on top. Y/N gave a soft smile and gently took the f/d one from Mondo, careful to not touch the donut itself. The two ate and watched the rain for a few minutes in silence. Y/N slowly began to zone out, wondering if this would be considered a date. Not like it mattered, they had thought. This is fun. But even so they felt a bit curious, and a part of them wished it was. Once they finished their donuts, Y/N slipped out of the booth.

“Race you back to the dorms?” Mondo looked up from his seat, his eyes widening.

“Are you serious? You’re gonna slip and die out there, or catch a cold.” Y/N shrugged, smiling. A small, mischievous glimmer was eminent in their eyes.

“At least I had fun before I died.” His eyebrows furrowed angrily, glaring daggers into them. Y/N laughed, mustering out a quiet ‘what??’. Mondo sighed. He slipped out of the deep brown seat and stood next to them at the glass doors. The streets were empty, not even any cars around. It was around 4pm, so people wouldn’t really be out until 5-6ish, making their ways home if they weren’t already there. The two began to count in unison.

3…

2…

1!

The two glass doors were shoved open, Y/N quickly getting ahead of Mondo, her boots slamming against the cold, wet ground. Water kicked up everywhere around them. Mondo, however, caught up quick and, carefully, shoved Y/N to the side. They laughed and shoved him back. They ducked under his next swing and slid down the sidewalk, picking up speed with the water. But their laughter died fast as they tripped on the drop of the sidewalk into the road, falling thankfully, palms first. Y/N released a loud curse, hands scraping across the ground as they flopped sadly onto their stomach, face landing in a puddle. Mondo slowed to a stop behind them.

“Hey, you okay?” He held out his palm, holding in laughter. Y/N looked up at him, and smirked.

“You jerk, this isn’t funny!”

“It totally is.” They both laughed, their boisterous sounds echoing through the empty, dim lit streets. Mondo helped them out of the soaked road, checking their palms.

“Christ, Dad-” Y/N exaggerated, rolling their eyes, “I’m fine, seriously.” Mondo snickered.

“Sorry, just thought I’d check. You do get hurt easy.” Y/N’s jaw dropped, clearly mocking offense. They smacked his chest, mumbling about how he was a jerk, which obviously made him crack up laughing. The two continued to walk across the street and back onto the sidewalk, where they slowly began to notice their gorgeous surroundings. It was gradually getting dark now, both from the fog and the time passing. Water droplets fell down the foggy store windows and there was dew on the flowers and plants they’d occasionally pass by. It also smelt amazing, since it hadn’t rained in a while. It was so fresh...calming, and beautiful. The petrichor made the moment that much better. Though, it was absolutely freezing. The two students were both absolutely drenched. The rain had slowed down by now, but it definitely wasn’t stopping anytime soon. They agreed that they could call the race a tie, after a few minutes of back and forth arguing about it, and decided to just admire their surroundings. Mondo’s eyes glanced over at his best friend. Their eyes shined in the rain, their hair a strewn and soaked mess. Thankfully they didn’t look injured from the fall, but...they were clearly shivering pretty bad. He rolled his eyes, internally groaning. If only Y/N had listened…

Even so, he removed his jacket and gently placed it over them. It was also soaked, but still gave a bit of warmth compared to their hardly covered form. Y/N looked over and gave him a small smile.

“Thank you.” Mondo grinned back, ruffling Y/N’s already destroyed hair. His pompadour had finally fallen out and blocked most of his sight. He slicked it back, blowing a stray strand out of his eyes.

“Fuckin’ hair. Sucks being this long.” Y/N shook their head.

“It sucks to take care of, but you look good,” Their arm rose to wipe their own face with his jacket sleeve. “Plus I don’t think you’d look very good with short hair. Maybe if you slicked it back.”

“Yeah, but then I’d be a carbon copy of Daiya.” Y/N laughed, nodding.

“Very true.”

The rain pitter pattering around them slowly absorbed their words. Y/N focused on their feet and the reflections in the puddles on the ground, but Mondo focused on them. God did she look like a mess. But a really, really good looking mess. Their e/c and hair blended nicely with the cool colors of their surroundings. His eyes twinkled as he took in their features. Even what they thought were flaws, like their small bit of acne or their rolls or their skin. They all were so… them. He couldn’t really explain it, but he really liked them for who they were. He was sure of that.

“Thank you.” Y/N looked up at him, confused.

“For what?” Their smile was awkward as Y/N slightly tilted their head, the clumped wet hair on their head falling to the right side of their face with a quiet splat. Mondo held in a laugh.

“For coming out here with me. Going on a date with me.” Y/N’s eyes widened, looking shocked. He quickly realized his mistake. “Shit, sorry, I never really asked you out, huh? I dunno this just really felt like a date to me and I-”

“It’s okay,” They interrupted. Mondo stopped, his mouth shutting. He probably looked like an idiot deer in the headlights. Y/N snickered, a small smile shining on their shadowed face, the rain rolling off her. “You can call this a date. I sort of thought the same thing.” Y/N paused.

“...I had a lot of fun too. I always have fun when I’m with you, Mondo.” Mondo huffed, smirking. Of course they do, he thought. I’m super cool.

…

He was really glad they had fun. And a thought crossed his mind… Did he finally get somewhere with them? He quickly snapped out of it when Y/N spoke.

“Sorry...say that again?” Y/N looked up at him, stopping walking. He did as well, anticipation sending more chills through his already cool body. Y/N smiled.

“Would you want to do something like this again?”

…

“That was supposed to be my line.”

“Should’ve said it sooner, dork.”

“.....” He sighed, but slowly smiled, the corner of his eyes creasing. He felt warmth in his chest. It helped him fight the cold, even for just a minute. “Yeah, obviously.”

They both discovered they had a cold by the time they had gotten home. But oh well, it was worth it. Since now, they’d be going out again soon. ...Right after they recovered. Gross.+-

[parkersbliss]

Reality | P. Parker

Pairing: Peter Parker X Female, Romanoff reader

Warnings: Mysterio, Mysterio, sad Peter, Peter getting hit by a train, Mysterio mentally abusing reader, just Mysterio

Type: angst??

A/N: It’s been months ya’ll I’m so sorry. This was supposed to be a prologue to Fake, but I got carried away. First post of 2020!

WC: 2,000<

Summary: Mysterio knows what he wants, but so do you and Peter.

Tagged: @theolwebshooter @thegirlwiththeimpala

If you want to be tagged see here

Masterlist

The Europe trip was supposed to be fun and relaxing, but instead, it was chaotic and quite terrifying. Your little trip to Paris ended up being a trip to Prague during the festival of lights, in which Peter was on a classified mission (that ended up being fake) to stop a fire monster. Of course, when your boyfriend sneaks out of the opera hours you were going to follow him. And not because you were scared for him, quite the opposite. You knew Peter was doing Superhero stuff and you wanted in. You had been off duty while grieving for your mom, but now it was time to jump back into battle. Something to at least distract you from the pain of loss. Quietly you followed Peter, your footsteps fell silently as snow.

“Peter,” You whisper when he reaches the festival.

“(Y/N)! Wh- what are you doing? You should’ve stayed in the opera house where it’s safe.”

“What’s going on?”

"I-“

You cross your arms and give Peter the stare, the one your mother taught you. She always said it drove the boys (and girls) mad, "Peter."

He sighs, muttering something into his earpiece. "Do you remember the water monster in Venice?”

“Yeah…” You raise your eyebrows in speculation, was this attack related to that one? As if Peter read your mind he opened his mouth and said, “They’re expecting another one here, the worse of all, fire. And I’m on duty to try and stop it."

"Count me in." Peter scratches the back of his neck, "Babe…” Someone says something into his earpiece and he hands it to you.

“Agent Romanoff, glad to see you back.”

“Director Fury, good to be back.”

He laughs in the back, “let’s get this show on the road then.”

+ + +

“Night Monkey, huh?” You tease Peter.

He blushes, “Ned came up with it not me!”

You grab Peter’s hand in yours, smiling up at him.

“Ew physical affection,” Beck jokes, his glass of alcohol in his hand.

You stick your tongue out at him, sipping from you and Peter’s orange juice.

“You guys love each other don’t you?” He questions.

Peter squeezes your hand, “yeah we do."

Beck smiles from the rim of his glass, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. You figured it was because it reminded him of his love. The one he couldn’t save. His family.

"I was devastated when my mom died,” You said in hopes of relating to Beck. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye, one minute she was telling me how proud she was of me and that she loved Peter. The next, I was plunged into battle looking for her. As I was fighting I brushed it off and figured she was here and that between everyone I would never find her.” You swirl the orange juice in the glass, staring down at it. The memories still too vivid. Your eyes began to water, “When Tony died, I thought for sure I would find her there. She would mourn for him, but when I got there she wasn’t. I ran to Tony and he just-” the tears slowly rolled down your cheeks as you flashback to that moment.

“Mom!” You shouted desperately. “Mom?” Throughout the whole battle, you hadn’t found her, of course with all the heroes that thought was next to impossible. She could’ve changed her costume too, five years. You didn’t know what she looked like. Chaos swirled around you like fog in the morning. Then, there was silence. You turned around to see Uncle Tony on the ground. Everyone was gathering around, kneeling by his side. Your mother would be there for sure. However, when you got there with Peter, Tony only had a few minutes left. You stood behind Peter as he broke down. A hand was placed on your shoulder, you spun around so fast thinking it was your mom. Instead, you came face to face with your godfather, the same look as everyone else.

“Hey, sunshine,” Clint said.

"where is she?“

”(Y/N)-“

"Where is she, Clint?! She’s my mother!" The look on his face says it all as you collapse into his arms sobbing.

Clint holds you to his chest as you cry. "She sacrificed herself for us,” He said quietly. “I fought her till the end, but your mother beat me to it. She was always the better one of us.“

Clint pulls out a letter from his suit, "open it when you’re ready."

When MJ figured out that Peter was spiderman, she also learned that Mysterio was no mystery, but a liar. You and Peter instantly freaked out, you both had agreed on giving Beck one of the most advanced pieces of technology ever, lord knows what he was planning on doing.

"We have to tell Fury,” Peter said, zipping up his suit.

“No shit,” You reply, snapping on your mother’s wrist cuffs.

“MJ, Ned, you can’t tell anyone this,” Peter warned, halfway out the window.

“You both are already in danger being involved with both of us, so please stay low."

They both nod as they watch Peter grab you in his arms and swing-out the window, you wave at them over Peter’s shoulder. As soon as you arrived in Berlin, Fury picked you up and drove you to the headquarters. Both of you were frantically explaining what Beck had done and that there was little time left before he advanced. Just as Fury started putting together a plan, the room begins to disintegrate.

"Mysterio,” You whisper, looking around for him. Out of nowhere, Peter tackles you to the ground as a drone fires at you, it hits Fury in the chest and you scream. Peter stands up, checking for him when the drone shoots him and he goes falling.

"PETER!”

Your reality begins to shatter as Mysterio’s drones build an illusion.

"You know, neither of you had to die,” Beck’s voice sounds. “really, if Peter kept his mouth shut I wouldn’t have had to kill him. And if hadn’t introduced you, the love of his life. Daughter of the famous Black Widow, you’d still be on your trip to London.”

"No.”

He laughs, "it didn’t have to be this way."

The room faults and you’re suddenly back at Stark Tower in the training rooms. The smell of sweat clouding your senses.

"Your mom never escaped the Russians did she?”

The room is suddenly swamped with bright red blood, like your mom’s hair and the nefarious red room she was trained in. The blood flows in, knocking you off your feet with the force. You shriek as you fall back into it, your skin becoming that of a tomato. You try to stand, but keep slipping. More and more rushes in, until you’re drowning in it with no clear direction of up.

"HELP ME!”

Peter would recognize that voice anywhere, "where is she?!”

Mysterio laughs, projecting the image of you drowning in blood.

Peter bangs on the glass until it shatters, breaking reality as the shards rain down on him, but not one speckle of blood. He’s suddenly facing himself.

You’re yanked from the liquid by a forceful hand, tugging at your hair and thrusting you onto the hard concrete, as you’re thrown down a sound like shattered glass resounds through the room and you continue to fall. You land in the snow, bright red snow now. You scramble out of it, slipping as it melts. You begin to sink, there’s nothing to grab onto. When suddenly a hand appears, the same gloved hand of your boyfriend, Peter. It’s just out of your reach when you finally get the strength to grab it, he pulls you up. The room changed again on your on one of Tony’s jets. Peter looks at you and pushes you off the jet.

Your cries fall silent as the wind drowns them out. You land in front of a mirror, your hair is the color of your moms, your black suit stained red, lips dipped in blood.

“You were so beautiful,” Your mother coos from behind you. “but your beauty will fade.”

“Mom!”

Natasha draws out a knife, her finger dances dangerously on the edge. The fantasy ends when an arrow whisks past your ear, straight into the mirror where your heart is. Except, it’s not you anymore. It’s Peter, blood soaking through his suit. He falls to his knees as blood pours out of his mouth, you scream looking for him. The room is pitch black, the mirror only showing Peter.

“Stop it!! Stop it!!” You shout, banging on the mirror, a hand grabs you and pulls you through, it’s Peter’s.

“If you were brave enough, we would all still be here.”

“that’s not true.”

Peter fades away and Natasha appears grabbing your chin tightly, “you know it is.”

The ground opens up and she falls through, you dive after her and slam down on the concrete. Dazed, you stare blankly at the sky waiting for another trick. There’s a loud bang beside you, and you see Peter roll of a car.

“Peter.”

“(Y/N)?” He starts running toward your broken form, just as he’s about to get there the drones come back and his sense of direction is lost, but to you, he runs up and picks you up in his arms. Peter sets you down, an arm around you. And yet, you didn’t feel safe. You squirm against him and he holds you tighter.

“Let go of me, Beck.”

“The show’s just opening.”

The real Peter runs into the room, “It’s just an illusion.”

“It is Peter?”

“I-”

“You don’t know the difference, do you?” Beck’s hold on you become tighter, you let out a gasp.

“Stop it,” Peter warns, aiming a gloved hand at him.

Beck just laughs, you take the opportunity and kick the back of his knees, he doubles over and you use the chance to throw him over your shoulder.

“(Y/N)? It is you!” Peter cries, running to you.

“I control reality.”

“NO!"

As if on cue, the world shifts one more time and you’re back in your room. Sunlight filtering through the windows, your bed nicely made. A few stuffed animals sitting on it. You’re home. Something bangs in your desk drawer, curious you walk toward the source. The banging gets louder until the desk is shaking, you open the drawer and a letter flings out. The envelope is black with a red seal, where it now has small teeth. The letter grows in size, filling up the whole room as you cower in the far corner.

That damn letter. Your bedroom becomes encased in black gloom, the ground under your feet begins to tremble. You look down as small words start to appear, first your name at the top. It’s the letter your mom wrote to you. Panic sweeps through your veins and you begin to run, words ripple under your feet as you try to escape the inevitable. The paper begins to curl, now chasing you like a wave, every five seconds you turn around, only to see it get closer. The page chases you until the end, where you stumble and stare into the dark. A cloud of green forms at your feet when Mysterio appears.

"Please, stop,” You plead, you’re covered in blood, exhausted and scared for your life.

He laughs a hollow sound. Eyes glittering with hatred. He begins to walk toward you when shots are fired and he falls to his knees. Fury is limping behind him, you run up to him and he tosses his arm over your shoulder.

“Director, are you okay? Where’s Peter?”

Fury laughs, “I’m great.” His voice morphs into that of Becks. “Peter, not so much.”

Peter stumbles in front of you, slumping to his knees. Much like you if Beck didn’t possess such a strong grip. Beck begins to recite a monologue as Peter backs up slowly.

“Your girlfriend here, she didn’t have to die either. It pains me to have to do this.” Beck releases his grip as you fall to the ground, legs throbbing with pain and exhaustion.

“(Y/N)… Beck please, don’t, not to her.”

“Oh, you won’t have to see it.”

Peter’s pained expression changes to confusion and at that moment, the illusion drops and a train comes hurtling to Peter. You don’t even get to scream before he’s gone.

Beck turns to look at you, “you’re coming with me.”

[harryandmolly]

Complicit // 13

summary: Shawn is under more pressure than he’s ever known. He craves release and comfort, the simplicity of sex. He gets more than he bargained for.

warnings: language, tough love, The Cliffhanger (TM)

WC: 4.2k

-----------

One of Mia’s favorite post-date rituals is a long, hot shower. Whether a one-nighter in the Beverly Wilshire or a week on an 80-foot yacht in the Mediterranean, Mia arrives home to wiggles and pets with Pamela, a strawberry Pop Tart and a luxurious shower complete with her good conditioner and lots of exfoliation.

Truthfully, the tradition was born from feeling dirty after her first date. When she came home to her scruffy Mid City studio apartment, she shook violently through her entire shower, scrubbing herself raw with a Dollar Store loofah. But she went on another date, and then another, soon relaxing into the comfort she brought her clients, letting it comfort her, too.

The shower remained part of her routine. Sometimes the Pop Tart made it in with her, propped on a shelf beside her Kiehl’s products for her to take bites of between verses of “Fly Me to the Moon.” Pammy usually lay on the bathmat waiting for her, thwapping her tail against the tile floor when Mia hit a sour note.

Mia had no interest in showering on the afternoon she left Rio de Janeiro. Despite the fact that she came straight from the airport to the show and straight into bed for a long night, she wanted to hang on to all of it as long as possible. Her skin still wears the love of his mouth and the scent of his sheets. She can’t just get rid of that, especially now.

His flight left hours earlier than hers, so she lies in the memories of last night as heavy as the dense, wet fog that surrounds their little mountain retreat. She twists in the sheets, fighting for more sleep that won’t come. When it’s time to get up, she knows she can’t let go, not yet. She can’t let all the color Rio brought her fade, not until she’s really gone.

Mia’s slow packing up, loaded down with luggage despite being there for under 24 hours. She suspects she’s leaving something behind, despite having barely unpacked. All the way through airport security, she mentally sifts through her belongings, checking them off. She has her passport, her phones, her house keys, her phone charger, her power converter.

She’s somewhere over Mexico when she decides what she left behind was a piece of her, the piece that gets to live in the memory of the night before. The rest of her has to move on.

+

Silver walks through a cloud of Hermes 24 Faubourg, inhaling as she goes. She picked up a bottle in Monte Carlo last week after a night tangled up in Sylvie. Silver’s never been accused of sentimentality, but decided if she is forced to be away from this intangibly incredible woman, she may as well have a token that is exclusively hers and reminds her of what’s exclusively theirs.

The doorbell rings. Silver smiles. She straightens the lapels of her blazer, hot rod red rather than her usual monotone uniform, and heads for the door of her dressing room. Down the blank white corridor to her marble staircase, her heels click mutedly, carrying her with grace to where her housekeeper will have brought Penny for their meeting. 

They’re in the solarium today. Silver likes to take advantage of the gloomy Los Angeles days when they come available. Even better if it rains, which it looks like it might. She’s serving a fine Lady Grey in a vintage Royal Copenhagen set an old favorite client left her in her will. 

Penny’s back is facing her when she arrives. She’s perched on the end of her seat, ramrod straight with her legs crossed at the ankle, just the way Silver taught her years ago. She’s a polished, pretty picture in a butter yellow, smartly tailored pantsuit with her hair in soft waves. She doesn’t turn as Silver approaches.

In an uncharacteristically warm gesture that just somehow feels right, Silver bends to reach her, tucking her arms around Penny’s shoulders, resting her chin on her head. She smells freshly showered, a lovely floral and fruit bouquet, soft, touchable elegance.

“Hello, my love. I’ve missed you.”

Penny raises a hand to rest over Silver’s, thumbing against the series of Cartier Love bracelets locked around her dainty wrists. She releases a deep sigh.

“You have no idea,” Penny croaks.

Silver frowns. She releases her friend and walks around the set of chairs to sit beside her. Penny’s eyes are clouded and far away. Her hands, lying in her lap, are limp, the cuticles shredded from her picking. Her expertly applied makeup doesn’t quite cover the circles under her eyes. Silver’s heart rate kicks up in her chest.

“Penny, what’s--”

“Please,” Penny sighs, “Don’t call me that.”

Silver startles. She sits back in her chair and folds her legs, blinking quickly.

“Mia,” Silver begins again, the name foreign on her tongue, a name she hasn’t called her closest friend in many years, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Mia seems to search the blank gray sky for answers. Silver flicks anxiously at her ruby and emerald ring, the one given to her by her grandmother.

“Do you remember why I chose the name ‘Penny?’”

Silver pauses, then nods. “From the Sinatra song. “Pennies from Heaven.””

“I chose it as a way to hang on to who I am through all this. I was worried I’d lose myself in the persona I wanted to create. I thought keeping my name so personal was a smart move, that I’d never really forget myself in this. I don’t think it worked.”

Silver’s lips turn down at the corners. Her eyes drop.

“I don’t blame you, Silver. Please know that. You saved me from becoming something so much scarier. Without you, I’m not sure I could recognize myself at all now.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence weighing between them. Silver doesn’t even know where to begin.

“You want to stop seeing clients,” she says plainly, glancing over for confirmation. Mia nods solemnly.

“You feel you cannot continue because you’ve fallen in love with one.”

Mia wets her lower lip and sighs, nodding slowly.

“Tell me this, my darling,” Silver whispers tenderly, leaning forward, “How do you figure you’ve managed to fall in love if none of this is real?”

Mia’s eyes flicker. Her brow puckers for a moment, then softens. “I don’t--”

“I staunchly disagree with your idea that you lost yourself in Penny. I think instead you found yourself. I think she gave you the freedom to believe you were worthy of praise and admiration, worthy of your own innate power. I think Penny helped Mia transcend. I think Penny is as much your name as Mia is. I think you’re punishing yourself, perceiving love as a weakness. And frankly, I think you should know better.”

Mia’s jaw tightens visibly. Silver rolls her shoulders back and sits up, squaring off.

“No one knows how to love like you do. You lead every day with love. Every choice you make on every date, every meeting, every run through the canyons with Pammy, every car ride with Gus, every FaceTime call with Peter, all of it beautiful expressions of your love. I think you don’t recognize it in yourself because your fucking parents never showed it a day in their lives. I think somehow all the love they were meant to have was born into you instead. I think the first time you’ve really seen it in yourself is with him and it scares the living hell out of you.”

Mia whimpers a sobbing breath. “You’re fucking right, it does! What do I do with this now? What am I supposed to be? I have all this useless love for him fucking rotting me from the inside. It can’t go anywhere, Silver. Where is it supposed to go? Into a fairytale ending? Not for the whore. Not for the woman who sells her time and her body. You know better than anyone she doesn’t get the happy ending.”

Silver flinches, thinking of Sylvie, of all the things she’s yet to tell her, all the things that could flatten this pretty thing, this sweet little flame they’re tending before it has the chance to thrive. She shakes her head, refusing to give in to this kind of thinking.

“Haven’t you been a martyr long enough?” Silver cries, lurching nearly out of her seat, “You’ve given and given and given for five fucking years, I can’t imagine how there could be anything left to give. You’re saddled with the guilt of knowing you cannot continue being a courtesan under the conditions of your personal life, but instead of accepting and embracing the possibilities that offers, you’ll throw it all away? This job that has at once sucked you dry and sustained you? This man that has come alive in your heart and in your bed? For what? For guilt? Will that really be enough? Why can’t you let yourself have something good?”

“What good?” Mia wails, standing, lifting her hands into her hair as she frantically begins to pace in front of the rain streaked windows. Silver’s not sure when it began to rain, but it’s pouring.

“What good do I get? He can’t be with me, Silver, and you well know it. It will ruin him. His whole career, all the strain he’s been under this summer, all of it was bringing him here, to this spot. He deserves this, all of this, all of the praise and the adoration that everyone is giving him now and everything he gets when his album drops. I can’t be the thing he gives it up for. I can’t and I won’t.”

“Why does he deserve it and you don’t?” Silver breathes.

Mia stops. She blinks hard at Silver so a fat wet tear drips down her cheek. She sniffles.

Silver stands slowly, carefully, looking almost her age for once. She approaches Mia head on, fearless but soft. She cups Mia’s sticky wet cheeks.

“Why does he get to enjoy the fruits of his labor and you don’t? Why does he get to stand on top of the mountain, victorious, looking past all the good and the bad that got him there, and you still struggle to climb? Look around, my sweet darling. There’s nowhere left to go. You have done so much good. So much unsung effort and hurt and heart got you to the summit. You’ll never be recognized for it like he is; that’s the nature of your job. But you must recognize it in yourself or none of it matters. What good is it, all of it, if you cannot see what you’ve done?”

Mia is silent, breathing heavily, trembling. Silver closes her fathomless eyes and tilts her forehead to Mia’s.

“You have done enough. You have been enough. You are enough.”

Silver holds Mia when she breaks. She strokes through her hair, smoothing it away from the back of her neck like her mum used to do. She massages circles around the knob at the top of her spine and coos, cradling the closest thing she’s ever experienced to true love in her own life, hoping against hope Mia will be able to accept hers.

+

Shawn feels beautifully even.

There was something about that night with her in Rio. I mean, fuck, there was everything about that night with her. But where he usually finds himself jonesing for a fix of her about 48 hours after they separate, he doesn’t now. He’s in New York doing radio promo for the album drop next week. He left her in bed, spoiled with kisses five days ago. He feels… ok.

Just because he’s not tearing his hair out and panting her name when he frantically fucks his fist in the shower doesn’t mean he doesn’t miss her. He misses her in this beautifully sane way that doesn’t feel dangerous or scary, it feels right. He thinks about her often, when it’s a quiet moment in a hired car crossing the city for his next interview or waiting for a table at some chic Brooklyn diner. It doesn’t eat at him and drive him up a wall. It feels like the need for a hit he’s been near constantly craving from her since the beginning of summer has finally worn off.

He thinks, or hopes, that it’s because maybe she misses him, too.

He’s heading back to LA soon for the album drop. He has a Spotify promo show and a bunch of other press to do as he gets ready for the release of his career. He’d like to see her, maybe take a quiet morning and bring Pammy on a hike through the canyons. He wants to learn her favorite spots.

Shawn stands outside in a courtyard after Elvis Duran with his legs crossed and the phone to his ear. He chews on a cuticle and waits to hear her pretty voice.

“I’m sorry. The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected. Goodbye.”

Shawn blinks. He holds the phone away from his ear. He squints at the screen almost comically. He tries again.

“I’m sorry. The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected. Goodbye.”

In a blind panic, with nothing else to do, he tries it again.

“I’m sorry. The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected. Goodbye.”

Oh my god.

+

It takes Shawn a few hours to remember to try calling the agency. He blames the daze the call put him in and the busy afternoon for how long he spent thinking he has absolutely no avenue to her, and for the state of complete disarray it put him in.

He struggles to focus on the rest of his press stops. His precious evenness is long gone. He’s jittery and irritable and unfocused. His team watches him with trepidation, unsure what’s knocked him so off-kilter. It’s worse than it’s been before when he’s been without her. Before, she was a phone call or a text away. Now, she’s just gone.

The thought hits him like a brick over the head midway through a Buzzfeed interview. It manages to perk him up slightly. He at least has hope now that goes beyond racing to wait outside her house until she deigns to talk to him. But he’s forced to wait until that night during dinner when he can slip away.

He finds the number under “Dentist” and dials, bouncing back and forth from toe to heel, knocking into the wall behind him.

“Thank you for calling La Splendeur, how may I assist you?”

“Colette?” Shawn squawks, pausing to scrub a hand through his hair, “I need to talk to Mia. I mean, Penny.”

There’s a long, heavy pause. “I’m sorry, who is this?”

He huffs. “It’s Shawn Mendes. My verbal password is ‘Ireland.’ I need to talk to Penny, please, Colette.”

Another pause. He turns and kicks the wall not too gently.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Mendes, Penny is no longer employed by La Splendeur.”

He almost drops his fucking phone. “She… what?”

“Penny no longer sees clients through this agency,” Colette explains softly, her fake accent faltering.

“I don’t understand,” he gripes, “She just… quit?”

Colette sighs. “I’m not really allowed to--”

“Wait, Colette, please,” Shawn pleads, pressing his free hand into the brick wall and hanging his head, “Please, you’ve gotta have her personal cell, right?”

“I’m not able to give that to you, Mr. Mendes.”

He grunts and fists his hand, tapping it repeatedly against the brick. “Please, there has to be something… shit.”

His heart is in his throat. His forehead rests against the prickle of the brick. He exhales slowly, trying to calm down.

“I’m sorry, Shawn.”

She’s dropped the accent altogether. It feels like the final nail in the coffin of this conversation. He nods, though she can’t see him.

“Yeah. Uhm, it’s ok. Thank you anyways.”

She says goodbye and hangs up. The silence hurts his ears.

+

Edge - Shawn Mendes

By: Christian Becker, Editor in Chief, September 29th, 2020

The fourth full length release from Canadian singer-songwriter Shawn Mendes has been the most highly anticipated of the fall. Though already a multi-time Grammy nominee with several international tours under his belt, including an impressive festival run this summer culminating in the performance of his career in front of a crowd of 80k on the third night of Rock in Rio only weeks ago, the 22-year-old remained a boy in the eyes of many, especially those who were paying attention when he cropped up fresh-faced and innocent at 16. 

No longer. This record is a definitive departure from Mendes’ boyhood. The sound is mature and focused even in its variations of style, from R&B to rock to soul to bouncy pop that he knows better than to shy away from, even if it is associated with a younger fanbase. The lyrics are a masterful collection of mourning, of longing, of lust, of life itself through his eyes, very clearly now the eyes of a man. They contrast beautifully with his surprise summer single release, “Far,” a lively, radio friendly pop duet with Bex, his very recently ex-girlfriend. “Far” is a celebration of freedom, of feeling totally safe with a partner in a way never thought possible. (The break-up, well documented by major gossip outlets, begs the question of whether another round of Mendes’ more heart-wrenching work is on its way. If it is, it may well have been worth it.)

Edge as a whole is a coming of age of sorts, lacking the obvious connotations of Jimmy Eat World’s “The Middle” or Bowie’s “Changes.” Mendes has arrived. He stands unafraid of his past, of the critics who have seen his babyface and can’t manage to unsee it. He places before us his heart in record form for us to judge, as honest and as poignant as I’ve ever seen. For that we at Vertigo Magazine commend him and look forward to future triumph and heartbreak.

5/5 stars.

Shawn sniffs and tucks an arm behind his head. He’s read Becker’s review so many times he’s got it nearly memorized. He thinks it’s his favorite thing that’s ever been written about his work. He doesn’t even mind anymore that Mia wore his necklace on a date with the guy. Mostly.

The first time he read it, he felt like he let go of a breath he’d been holding for weeks. The news had just broken about the “Shex” break-up -- the stunt had done its job and run its course. Bex’s album sales had been much higher than anticipated and her mid-size national club tour had sold out. She was invited out to open for Alessia Cara on her international arena bout next summer. And as for Shawn, the single absolutely exploded, declared “song of the summer” by just about every pop radio station on the planet. The album sales were even better than his team originally planned for. Announcing the international stadium tour, his first of its kind, would come next in just a few weeks. 10 months, 86 cities. He’s so excited it hurts.

He’s made his peace with it all. Mia was right. In the end, it was worth it. He’ll never be just a kid again in anyone’s eyes. For all the time he spent feeling trapped by it, by the lies and the smiles, it freed him. The whole summer and all its contradictions brought him freedom.

Shawn has a glorious two week break before putting his nose back to the grindstone to start promoting the On the Edge fall 2021 tour. He plans to spend nearly all of it writing, like he’s been doing in every free moment lately. Missing Mia seems to make it pour out of him.

He unlocks his phone again and reads highlights of the last paragraph, saved in his Notes app. 

Mendes has arrived

He stands unafraid of his past

He places before us his heart in record form for us to judge

They feel like big statements. Shawn supposes they’re appropriate. He knew when he was making this album how personal and real it is. He held nothing back -- the darkness, the light, the hate, the hope. 

He feels drawn to the words and how they paint him. He wants to live up to them. He knows his album does. He’s not sure about himself yet, though.

Shawn cranks himself upright to sit. He chews his lower lip and thinks about it again.

He has this… daydream. He imagines throwing himself in the car and speeding to her house, only about 15 minutes away. He bangs on the door and takes her in his arms and tells her everything, everything he’s held back for the sake of their professional relationship, everything he told himself he wasn’t allowed to feel, everything he’s pretty convinced, after Rio, that she feels for him too.

Every time he lets himself think about it, he adds more detail -- the cadence of her moaning breath when he sweeps her into his arms, the way her hair smells, the way Pamela lies at their feet, content that her owner is safe and happy. It’s lush with overdramatic nuances, but that’s just what his brain’s been after lately.

He places before us his heart in record form for us to judge

That’s what’s left. He has shown her all he can. The only thing left is to tell her.

His back straightens. He looks around. Is he really doing this? This, the stupid daydream he’s had pinballing around his addled brain as a distraction from his album release stress? He’s just going to go over there and confront her?

His brows lift.

Fuck yeah, he is.

+

There’s construction in Coldwater Canyon. The lane is backed up by guys with stop signs, waving through traffic from both sides as the two lane road is reduced further. What usually takes Shawn a few minutes takes over an hour.

He supposes that should’ve been his first clue, that bad omen.

The second should’ve been the absence of Pammy’s leash on the rail outside.

The third comes when he jumps to peek through her garage door window and sees both her cars inside. The house is dark. No Mia, no Pamela. No one.

He plants a hand on his hip and pants, sifting the other through his hair. His jaw tenses. He closes his eyes and forces down the panic.

It’s time for the nuclear option.

He reaches for his phone and leans against her railing, enjoying her view.

“Hey, Colette? It’s Shawn Mendes. I need to talk to Silver.”

+

Shawn would be embarrassed by how hard he worked to wear Colette down enough to get Silver’s number. He definitely groveled, he certainly begged. But he doesn’t have the capacity to feel anything but anxiety as Silver’s number rings.

“This is Silver,” a smooth, cool voice answers.

“Silver, hey. Uhm, this is Shawn. Mendes.”

Good start. You sound like a fucking teenager calling his ex-girlfriend’s house because she blocked your number.

Silver is quiet for a few long beats. “Hello, Shawn.”

He sighs. “I tried calling her a few weeks ago. The number’s disconnected. You probably know about that. I just… I need to talk to her. Colette wouldn’t give me her number. I… I just went to her house and she’s gone. I’m kind of freaking out.”

He’s definitely freaking out. And he knows she can hear it. Again, he can’t be bothered to worry about how it looks or feels. Nothing feels worse than having no idea where she is.

“I’m sorry, Shawn. I really can’t--”

“God, Silver, please,” he begs, voice weary as he leans against her front door, “I… fuck. I love her. I really fucking love her. And I never said it. I was an idiot, like I thought I could make it go away because I knew I wasn’t supposed to. But, Jesus, I love her so much. You know her better than almost anyone. I… I think she might love me, too. Please, Silver. Where is Mia?”

Silver’s intake of breath is sudden, startling Shawn. He frowns, then realizes he used her real name. He turns his gaze downward a little sheepishly.

“She told you,” Silver murmurs, wearing a placid smile that Shawn can’t see. 

Shawn sighs. “She told me. Before Rio. When… it was the day of the in-call at her place.”

Silver is painfully silent again. It grinds Shawn’s teeth. He squirms against the door.

“Shawn, listen to me. If I tell you where she is, you have to promise me something.”

“Anything,” Shawn swears, lurching off the door to cling to the railing.

Another long pause.

“You have to be patient with her. She’s worth it, I promise. But she needs to see it from you, that you’re willing. Can you do that?”

Shawn nods for a few seconds before speaking. “I can do that.”

Silver smiles. “Good. Every summer, Mia and Peter spend the month of August at her great grandmother’s old house in Ravello. Peter couldn’t go this year because of school, and Mia missed it. She sent Pammy off to Gus and she left last week.”

Shawn nods frantically, temporarily drunk on finally having an answer. “Ok. Ok, great. Where… uh, where’s Ravello?”

Silver laughs. “The Amalfi Coast, Shawn. Mia’s in Italy.”

He huffs a breath. “Ok. Well. I guess I’m going to Italy.”

----------

WE’RE GOING TO ITALY!!!!!!

If you’d like to buy me an espresso or a cappuccino or an affogato, the link is in my bio.

Taglist: @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @mendesoft @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @sinplisticshawn @rollingxstone @yslsaint @randi-eve @fallmoreinlove @heyits-claire @itrocksmysocks @parkerspicedlatte @simpledomain @abeautiful-and-cloudy-day @thecurlsofgod @magcon7280 @bensbuttercup @shawnsmusical @paigeasourous @tell-me-when-ur-ready @softmendesss @searchingunderthestars @buggy-blogs @mendesficsxbombay @tnhmblive @greedydevil @tamegray @meltingicequeen @havethetimeeofyourlifee @normalcyisoverrated-beyou @t-i-n-y-d-i-n-o @hannahlouiseee @sarahlauramendes @shawnsmoose @mendezlatte @1dbetch @graysonmendes @shawnsababe @ineffsi @ultradreamologistblog @bluerose711 @sauveteen @valedictorian65 @cleocc @ly--canthrope

[niallsstainedcoffeecup]

The Third Birthday Party

Harry and Y/N plan the perfect birthday party for their son, Oliver.  Whenever the party strays from the plans, Y/N panics while Harry calms down his wife.  I hope you all enjoy.  Feedback and Requests are welcomed.  Lots of Love! ----------------------------------------

          The black lamp cast a warm, yellow glow around the bedroom.  The fresh paper pages brushed across Harry’s fingertips while Y/N’s whirring laptop eliminated the comfortable silence in the room. Harry pushed the thick, black glasses further up the bridge of his nose.  An exasperated sigh parted Y/N’s lips, a common noise Harry heard when Y/N emailed co-workers, but Harry counted five irritated sighs within the last hour, five sighs on a Friday were rare.  Harry tucked the homemade bookmarker, the one Oliver created last week in daycare, between the page’s spine.  He placed the folded glasses onto his nearby bedside table.           “Okay, what’s wrong?” Harry asked, facing Y/N’s scowling face.           Y/N huffed, keeping her eyes locked on the computer screen, “I’m looking over Oliver’s birthday itinerary.  Did you double-check with the museum about having that dinosaur man attend the party?”           Harry nodded, recalling the conversation with the museum’s secretary, who promised Mr. Archie Ohlogist would attend Oliver’s third birthday party.  Oliver adored dinosaurs, and when Anne took Oliver to the museum, Mr. Archie Ohlogist informed Oliver about the dinosaurs through cheerful tunes.            “Why do you keep checking the itinerary? Why does our three-year-old’s birthday party have an itinerary?  We never stressed over his birthday before,” Harry mumbled, pressing his lips to Y/N’s shoulder.           Y/N huffed, pinching the bridge of her nose, “We never stressed over his birthday because he couldn’t remember them. Your grandmother told me that children begin remembering memories when they turn three.  I do not want Oliver’s first memory to be about the worst birthday party ever.  He will think we are the worst parents.”           Harry chuckled, slipping the laptop from Y/N’s grip, “Love, you are far from the worst parent.  Tomorrow, Oliver will have the best birthday.”           Y/N giggled, cupping Harry’s jaw, “I love you. What would I do without you?”           Harry’s smug grin spread across his face, “You would still be looking over that itinerary.  I love you too.”           Y/N pressed her lips onto Harry’s rosy lips, “We should go to bed.”           “Are you sure?  We can practice making Oliver a new sibling,” Harry purred, nuzzling his nose against Y/N’s warm neck.           Y/N giggled, pulling Harry’s head away from her neck, “No, Oliver expects pancakes in the morning, and he only eats daddy’s pancakes.”           Harry smirked, flicking the lamp’s switch until the darkness swallowed the room, “I can add chef onto my long list of talents.”           Y/N snorted, wrapping her arms around Harry’s waist while she nuzzled her head against Harry’s back, “I wish I listened when the fans warned me about your praise kink.”           Harry chuckled, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s knuckles before closing his eyes.  The comfortable silence returned, lulling the couple to sleep.  Harry’s warm body washed away the worries from Y/N’s dreams. *          *          *          *          *          *

          Tiny footsteps approached the white bedroom door.  Oliver clutched the stuffed lime-green dinosaur under one arm while his other hand twisted the doorknob.  He tiptoed toward the loud snores coming from Harry’s open mouth. Oliver reached up, poking Harry’s bare bicep until Harry startled awake.             “Hey, little man.  Happy birthday,” Harry croaked out, gripping Oliver’s small hips to lift him onto the mattress.           Oliver giggled, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck, “Thank you, daddy.  Can we wake up mommy?”           Drool trailed down Y/N’s chin and onto the dark sheets.  Stray strands of hair covered her forehead while the rest tickled Harry’s arm.  Harry chuckled, glancing down at his beautiful wife’s fluttering eyelashes, “No, we better leave her asleep.  Are you excited about your party?”           Oliver nodded fervently, “Nana Anne and Aunt Gem are coming.”           Harry chuckled, tickling his son’s chubby stomach, “Do you love Aunt Gem more than me?”           Oliver squealed, squirming in Harry’s arms, “No, I love you because you’re my daddy.  I love Aunt Gem because she gives me chocolate.”           Harry nodded, “That is a good reason to love Aunt Gem.  Well, we need a proper breakfast to leave us energized for the party.  Should we eat oatmeal?”           Oliver scowled, sticking his pink tongue out to show his disgust.           Harry chuckled, cupping his jaw while acting as if he were deep in thought, “Hm, should we eat eggs?”           Oliver shook his head, pouting the more his father did not understand that he despised eggs.             Harry gasped, “What if we cooked pancakes?”           Oliver’s beaming grin spread across his face, “I want pancakes.”           Harry’s smile dropped, resulting in Oliver’s smile falling too, “We could make pancakes, but I can’t cook them alone.  I need two helpers, one person for mixing, and one person for reading the recipe.”           Oliver grinned, glancing down at the dinosaur still under his arm, “Theo and I can help you, daddy.”           “Theo the dinosaur can read?” Harry wondered aloud.           Oliver nodded, “He helps me read big books with mommy.”           Harry chuckled, “Okay, well, we better start on the pancakes.”           Harry carried the two tiny chefs toward the kitchen, where the pancake mix awaited Harry’s arrival.  Harry placed Oliver onto the gray marble counters while he scooped coffee grounds into the black coffeemaker.  A shocked gasp parted his lips when his eyes noticed the heavy rain trampling the freshly planted roses.  Yesterday, Harry and Y/N built sandpits, which contained plastic bones and treasure that the children could dig through during the party.  How could Oliver and his friends dig through the muddy sand and the rain? *          *          *          *          *          *

          Oliver dipped the thin pancake inside the syrup pool that he poured without Harry’s help.  Harry grinned, watching his son bounce his head from side to side while chewing the pancake.  Harry sipped the plain coffee and helped Oliver wipe the syrup rolling down his arm. Y/N shuffled into the kitchen, smiling widely at her son’s dimpled grin.           “Happy birthday.  Did daddy make you pancakes?” Y/N asked, pressing a kiss atop Oliver’s curly, brown locks.           Oliver nodded, pressing his sticky lips against Y/N’s cheek, “I like when daddy cooks pancakes because they don’t taste bad.”           Y/N giggled, rolling her eyes playfully, “You burn the pancakes once, and now, your son thinks you can’t cook.”           Y/N wiped the dried syrup off Oliver’s cheeks while ignoring Oliver’s complaints about being cleaned.  She decided she could wash the syrup off during Oliver’s bath.  She shuffled across the kitchen, wrapping her arms around Harry’s shoulders.           “Good morning, I missed you,” She whispered, pressing her lips onto Harry’s shoulder.           Harry spun around, smiling at his wife’s stunning smile, “I missed you too.”           Y/N giggled, brushed her lips along Harry’s soft lips.  Harry captured Y/N’s lips between his, allowing her to taste the mixture of syrup and coffee on his breath.  Y/N smiled, breaking the kiss before Oliver whined with disgust.             “Are you excited about your party?” Y/N asked, looking through the fogged kitchen window.           Y/N’s smile dropped the minute she spotted the rain pouring from the dark gray clouds hung above the neighborhood.  Her panicked mind roared over Oliver’s cheerful response.  Y/N and Harry planned the outdoor birthday party, without purchasing any inside activities, in case the weather turned their back on them like today.             Y/N spun around, noticing Harry’s sympathetic frown, “Have you checked the weather?”          Harry nodded, “The weatherman doesn’t see the rain stopping anytime soon.”           Y/N frowned, “We should cancel the party.”           Harry’s eyes widened, which led him toward Y/N’s tense figure, “Hey, it will be okay.  We can host the party inside.  I can go purchase a few games for the guests.  Oliver will still have the best birthday ever.”           Y/N smiled, hugging Harry’s sturdy figure, “I love you.  I will bath Oliver while you go to the shops.”           Harry nodded, kissing Y/N’s forehead before exiting the kitchen.  Y/N calmed her nervous heart with a few deep breathes before focusing her attention on the grinning little boy.  Oliver dipped his fingers inside the syrup pool, then dragged his fingers along the marble counters.  Y/N groaned, canceling Oliver’s art time by freeing him from the high chair.  She carried Oliver into the bathroom with the hope that the birthday could be saved. *          *          *          *          *          *

          Harry loaded the board game boxes into the sleek black car’s trunk.  He slipped the thin phone from his pocket, typing a new message to Y/N. Hey love, I bought enough board games for the party.  I’m heading home -H. The car’s engine roared to life while Harry skipped through radio stations.  Harry’s rings slapped against the steering wheel to the catchy beat.  An incoming call interrupted the radio host’s laser hair removal ad.           “Hello?” Harry answered, turning the radio down.           “Hello, is this Mr. Styles, this is Elizabeth with the museum,” The young girl mumbled softly.           Harry frowned, “Yes, this is Mr. Styles. Is there a problem?”           “I’m afraid there is a problem.  You hired Mr. Archie Ohlogist for your son’s birthday; however, Mr. Archie Ohlogist called in sick with the flu,” The young girl mumbled through fear.           Harry’s knuckles turned white from the grip around his steering wheel.  He promised Y/N that Oliver’s birthday party would happen without any problems, but here they were without the main entertainment.  Harry thanked the young girl for informing him, but his heart sunk when he pulled into the driveway.  He dropped the board games near the front door and kicked the wet loafers from his feet. His ears caught Y/N and Oliver singing along with Mr. Archie Ohlogist’s dinosaur rap album, which only worsened the churning in Harry’s stomach.  Harry trudged upstairs until he entered Oliver’s clean room.  Y/N buttoned Oliver’s salmon pink pants that she paired with Oliver’s black and white dinosaur shirt.  Y/N spotted Harry, shooting him a grin that faded once she spotted the pain in his eyes.           “Oli, I need to talk to your father.  Can you stay in here?” Y/N asked, wiping the stray curls from his eyes.           Oliver nodded, walking across the room toward the toybox filled with costumes and toys.  Y/N followed Harry into the hallway, where Oliver couldn’t hear the bad news.           “What happened? Y/N asked, crossing her arms across her chest.           Harry frowned, “Mr. Archie canceled on us. He caught the flu, so he won’t be here.”           Y/N shook her head, “Are you joking?  I can deal with rain, but now, the one person that our son wanted at his birthday party will not be here?  What will I tell him?  He will remember this birthday as the one where he wanted Mr. Archie, and we surprised him with some knock-off instead.”           Harry chuckled, wrapping his arms around his wife’s tense figure, “Hey, it will be okay.  One year, I asked my mom for batman pajamas, and she surprised me with spider man pajamas.  I didn’t get what I wanted for my birthday, but that didn’t matter because I got a gift while other kids never got gifts.  Our son will be okay.”           Y/N nodded, pressing her lips onto Harry’s lips, “I love you.  Will you tell Oli about the change of plans?”           Harry nodded, heading inside Oliver’s room while Y/N jogged downstairs.  She listened to Harry and Oliver sing Harry’s album while she cleaned around the living room. Her heart reassured her that Oliver would remember this birthday with positive memories. *          *          *          *          *          *

          The doorbell’s chime informed Oliver’s eager heart that one of his guests arrived.  A squeal bubbled past Oliver’s lips while his tiny hands shoved past Harry’s long legs. Oliver’s small feet carried him faster than the wind toward the front door.           “Who is it?” Oliver sang, reaching for the handle.           A muffled giggle slipped through the door, “Oli, it’s Aunt Gemma and Nana Anne.”           Oliver trusted the voice behind the door, but before his fingers could twist the knob, Harry’s booming voice startled Oliver’s hands away, “Oliver Styles, what have mommy and I told you about opening the door for strangers.”           Oliver pouted, facing his father’s furrowed eyebrows, “Aunt Gem told me that it was her.”           Harry frowned, scooping his son into his arms, “I understand, but that person behind the door could lie to you.  You should wait for mommy or daddy to open the door.”           Harry swung the door open, inviting his sister, his sister’s boyfriend, and his mother into the warm house.  Anne, Gemma, and Michal ditched their soggy shoes and dripping umbrellas.             “How is my birthday boy?” Anne asked, stealing Oliver from Harry’s arms.           Oliver giggled, dodging Anne’s lips that pressed kisses across his soft face, “I’m well.  Nana, did you see the rain?”           Anne nodded, “I did see the rain.  I’m glad that we are inside, so we don’t get sick.”           Oliver nodded eagerly, making everyone laugh from his antics, which caused him to crack more jokes.  Anne grinned, recalling moments when a three-year-old Harry performed music for his grandparents to bring smiles to their faces. She couldn’t believe how much Oliver acted like Harry did growing up.             “Can I hold the birthday boy?” Gemma asked, reaching for Oliver.           Anne grinned, passing a beaming Oliver toward Gemma.  Anne followed everyone into the living room, where she greeted Y/N and Harry without the toddler in her arms.  Gemma plopped herself and Oliver onto the black couch beside Michal.           “Do you feel old?” Gemma asked, poking Oliver’s dimple that all the Styles inherited.           Oliver giggled, shaking his head, “I’m still a baby.  Did you bring chocolate?”           “Oliver, we do not ask other people for candy,” Y/N warned the now pouting Oliver.          Gemma grinned, “It’s okay, Y/N.  I know that my nephew isn’t a mean kid.  He happens to be the sweetest little boy ever, and that is why Uncle Michal and I brought you some chocolate.”           Oliver cheered, yanking the chocolate bar from Gemma’s hands, “Thank you.”           Gemma nodded, admiring the way Michal helped Oliver unwrap the chocolate bar.  Harry grinned, wrapping his arm across Y/N’s shoulders.           “Thank you for giving our child sugar.  I can’t wait until you and Michal have children so I can fill them up with sugar,” Harry chuckled at Gemma’s playful glare.           Anne rolled her eyes, laughing softly at her children, “Y/N, they never grow up.  They can be twenty-something, and still, act like children.”           Y/N giggled, pressing her lips to Harry’s cheek, “Trust me, sometimes I feel like I have two children rather than one. When we go grocery shopping, Harry and Oliver whine until I let them leave for frozen yogurt while I finish the shopping.”           Harry pouted, crossing his arms over his chest, biting back the smile that threatened to unravel when everyone laughed.           Y/N pressed her lips against Harry’s dimple, “I’m kidding.  I love you.”           A dazed smile replaced Harry’s pout as he admired Y/N’s beauty, “I love you too.”           “Aunt Gemma, can we play hide and seek?” Oliver asked, wiping his chocolate-covered hands onto his t-shirt.           Gemma agreed, cleaning Oliver’s hands with a nearby napkin.  Gemma counted while Oliver and Michal searched for hiding places.  Y/N, Harry, and Anne watched Oliver play while they discussed recent events.  Y/N’s eyes noticed the clock ticking the time away, which left her wondering where the rest of Oliver’s guests were. *          *          *          *          *          *

          The messages flooded Y/N and Harry’s phones.  Adam and his family couldn’t attend the party because one of Adam’s kids caught the flu.  Oliver’s preschool friend, Danny, couldn’t attend the party because his mother couldn’t drive through the heavy rain.  Another friend would not attend the party because the parents did not get off work early. The guest list slowly dwindled until the only guests were the three guests, who were currently dancing with Oliver. Y/N huffed, pinching the bridge of her nose while Harry mumbled reassuring messages into Y/N’s tense shoulders.           “Hey, Oliver doesn’t care about the guests. Look how much fun he is having with my family,” Harry mumbled, peppering kisses up Y/N’s neck.           Y/N shrank from Harry’s lips, “Harry, I do not need your positivity right now.  What will Oliver remember from this birthday?  Nobody showed up, his parents failed to book his favorite dinosaur man, and we could not celebrate outside because of the rain.”           “The party might not fit our expectations, but our son loves the party.  He doesn’t need sandpits, tons of guests, and the dinosaur man for his birthday because we taught our son that all he needs is his family.  We did not fail our son, and we are not bad parents.  I love you, but I need you to stop worrying about Oliver’s memories.  I can barely remember shit from when I was three,” Harry firm lips and furrowed brows presented his stern message.           Y/N frowned, “I apologize for freaking out about the birthday party.  I want the best for Oliver, and I took things negatively when they didn’t work out with my plan.”           Harry captured Y/N’s lips with his own, pulling her body closer until their chests were flush against each other. Y/N smiled, wrapping her arms around Harry’s neck while Harry’s tongue explored her warm mouth.  Her fingers raked through his short curly hair, which brought Harry’s soft groans out.             “Oi, I didn’t visit your house to watch you two make out.  You better pull that roasted chicken from the oven before it burns,” Gemma scolded the blushing couple.           Y/N lowered her head, tearing away from Harry’s arms to grab the chicken from the oven.  Harry chuckled, catching his breath while avoiding his sister’s disgusted expression.  Gemma poured the sparkling red wine into glasses, holding back the laughter that stemmed from her brother and sister-in-law’s embarrassed grins.           “Well, I will leave you two to finish dinner. I pray that you focus on the food this time rather than one another’s mouths.  Your son is starving,” Gemma joked, shooting Y/N a wink before disappearing from the kitchen.           Y/N rolled her eyes, smirking at Harry’s flushed cheeks, “We are never making out with your family here again.”           Harry gasped, “Why not?  Gemma doesn’t care if we make out.  She’s lucky that she walked in on us making out, rather than us fucking.”           Y/N’s eyes widened, “Harry, your mother is in the next room.  Could you be any more vulgar?”           Harry smirked, pressing his palms against the cool marble counter, “I could, would you like to see it?”           Y/N chuckled, rolling her eyes, “Shut up, and help me carry the food into the dining room.”           Harry nodded, slapping his wife’s butt before grabbing the mashed potato dish from the counter.  Y/N rolled her eyes playfully before following Harry with the roasted chicken dish.  After the couple placed the dishes onto the dining room table, the family gathered around the table for the birthday feast.  Oliver munched on his favorite meal, roasted chicken with mashed potatoes and peas.  He finished the meal with the thought of birthday cake lurking within his mind. *          *          *          *          *          *

          “Happy birthday to you,” Everyone sang, watching Oliver’s dimpled grin grow wider with each verse.           Oliver’s eyes flickered between his singing family and the dinosaur-themed cake.  The brown frosting mimicked mud puddles that the plastic dinosaurs walked through.  The green frosting mimicked the grassy field where fondant trees grew.  Once everyone hit the last note, Oliver inhaled deeply, puffing his cheeks out before blowing onto the three rainbow candles.  He repeated the action until he extinguished all three candles.  Everyone clapped while Harry sliced the cake into individual slices.  Oliver licked his lips, poking his fork into the spongey chocolate cake.           “Who made the cake?” Anne asked, eating around the sugary icing.           Y/N grinned, wiping green frosting from Oliver’s eyebrow, “I found a local bakery that specializes in children’s cakes. The lady met with me and Oliver, where she sketched out Oliver’s dream cake.”           “That’s awesome.  The cake tastes delicious.  Do you like it, Oli?” Michal asked, chuckling when his nephew nodded through his mouthful of cake.           “Oliver isn’t the type to refuse any cake,” Harry informed his family.           Y/N giggled, nodding her head, “One time, Oliver visited my grandfather’s house, where he found my grandfather’s carrot cake.  The cake contained more carrot than actual spice cake, but Oliver finished every crumb and even licked the plate.”           Oliver chuckled as if he couldn’t believe the silly story.  The table erupted into laughter, which only increased Oliver’s giggles.  Once Oliver finished his slice of birthday cake, Y/N and Harry knew Oliver had an hour of energy left until he crashed.  If the couple waited any longer to unwrap presents, then Oliver would grow cranky from the need for sleep. *          *          *          *          *          *

          Oliver’s small hands ripped the sparkly green wrapping paper from the box.  Harry knelt beside his son’s small frame.  He helped Oliver rip the stubborn wrapping paper from the white box.  Once Oliver tore off the final piece of wrapping paper, he opened the white box, which contained gray and red dinosaur pajamas.           “A new set of dinosaur pajamas.  What do we say to Nana Anne?” Y/N asked, patting Oliver’s back.           Oliver smiled, toddling toward Anne’s open arms, “Thank you, Nana Anne.”           “You’re welcome, my sweet boy.  I also brought you a second gift,” Anne mumbled, pressing her lips against Oliver’s forehead.           Oliver returned to the pile of gifts, where he found Anne’s second gift.  He tore the box open, revealing two new stuffed animals.  Oliver squealed, dropping the gray dinosaur for the pastel pink unicorn.  Last week, Anne visited the shops with Oliver and Y/N.  In the toy store, Oliver stumbled past pink and blue princess costumes toward the pastel pink unicorn.  Anne purchased the toy without Oliver’s knowledge, while Y/N showed him the new costumes.           “What’s her name?” Harry asked, rubbing his son’s back.           Oliver snorted, “Daddy, Ron isn’t a girl.”           Harry chuckled, nodding fervently, “Right, I apologize.  Men can like the color pink too.  Does Ron like the color pink?”           Oliver grinned, “He loves the color pink.”           Gemma and Michal purchased Oliver a new racecar set.  Harry and Y/N showered Oliver with multiple gifts that ranged from new outfits created by Harry’s stylists, toys, children books, and costumes that ranged from pink feather boas to a miniature Elvis costume.  Oliver thanked everyone for the gifts with a hug and a kiss.  Gemma lifted Oliver onto the couch, where he snuggled into her side while Harry and Y/N cleaned up the piles of torn wrapping paper.  Y/N glanced up from the sparkly paper toward her son’s drooping eyes.             “He’s going to sleep good tonight,” Michal whispered, chuckling when Oliver’s head jerked backward startling him awake.           Harry hummed in agreement, “Oli, what do you say that we give you a bath and put you in your new pajamas?”           Oliver shook his head, burying his face further into Gemma’s side.  Gemma smiled, rubbing Oliver’s back.           “We can bath him tomorrow.  He didn’t make a total mess with the cake,” Y/N mumbled, cutting the tags from Oliver’s outfits.           Harry nodded, “Okay, Gem, do you mind holding him for a bit longer?  Y/N and I want to clean the kitchen before we go to bed.”           “I don’t mind.  I love cuddling with my nephew,” Gemma promised, wrapping her arm around Oliver.           “I can help you two,” Anne whispered, following Y/N and Harry into the kitchen.             The excitement quieted down the minute Oliver’s tiny snores echoed throughout the silent living room.  Gemma and Michal cuddled with Oliver while Y/N, Harry, and Anne cleaned the kitchen from dinner.   *          *          *          *          *          *

          “You have a real special kid.  Call us anytime you two need a babysitter,” Gemma hugged Y/N and Harry.           “Thank you for coming.  You three gave Oliver a birthday that he won’t forget,” Y/N mumbled, hugging Anne, Gemma, and Michal.           Y/N took Oliver’s sleeping figure from Harry’s sturdy arms.  She carried the heavy toddler toward his bedroom.  Harry’s heart fluttered, and a smile spread across his face as he watched his wife carry their son toward the room.  Once Y/N disappeared into the dark hallway, Harry faced his smirking family.           “Harry, you are blessed.  Y/N is an incredible mother and wife, and Oliver is such an angel.  I hope you cherish them,” Anne reminded Harry.           Harry nodded, hugging his mother, who never became used to Harry’s lifestyle.  She often reminded him about the day when a sixteen-year-old Harry entered the world of fame forever.  Now that Oliver entered the world, Harry understood the sorrow yet pride that she felt. Harry hoped Oliver chased his dreams, but he would struggle to let him travel across the world at sixteen.           “I love you, mom,” Harry pressed a kiss to Anne’s temple.           Anne pecked Harry’s nose, “I love you too. I hope you three have a wonderful night.”           Harry waved goodbye as the car drove off down the narrow streets.  Harry closed the front door, tiptoeing toward Oliver’s bedroom, where he heard Oliver gushing about his birthday party.  Oliver’s groggy voice mumbled incoherent praises while Y/N tucked him into the blue sheets.           “Thank you, mommy, for the best birthday ever,” Oliver whispered, shutting his eyes.           Y/N smiled, pecking Oliver’s forehead, “You’re welcome.  I love you, Oli.  Sleep tight.”           Y/N flicked the lamp switch off and maneuvered past the toys strewn across the floor.  A squeal flew past her lips the minute she closed Oliver’s bedroom door and found Harry standing there.  Harry chuckled, dodging his wife’s soft slaps as she calmed her breathing.           “What did Oli say?” Harry asked, tugging his wife toward their bedroom.           Y/N grinned, “He thanked us for his birthday party.”           Harry tutted, shuffling across the bedroom toward their bed, “No, I heard him thank you.  You saved the day.”           Y/N shook her head, walking until Harry tumbled backward onto the bed, “We saved the day.  I couldn’t do it without you being there to calm me down.  You were right.  Everything would be okay.”           Y/N straddled Harry’s waist, admiring the way the moonlight splashed across his face.  Her eyes traced the freckles dotted around his tan skin until they landed on his rosy lips.  She lowered her head, brushing her lips against Harry’s stubbly jaw.           Harry groaned, “I love when you tell me that I was right.  Can you say it again?”           “You were right,” Y/N purred, trailing her lips down Harry’s neck.           Harry chuckled darkly, “I love you.”           “I love you too.  I also think you were right about practicing for making another baby. Maybe we should start practicing,” Y/N sat up, searching Harry’s eyes for disapproval.           A wide grin unraveled across Harry’s face, “Yeah?  You want another baby with me?”           Y/N nodded, biting back the dazed grin, “I want more children with you.”           Harry giggled, pressing his lips onto Y/N’s lips.  The couple shared urgent kisses as if each kiss might be their last.  Y/N’s heart fluttered from Harry’s excitement and the feeling of his lips on hers.  Later that night, Y/N and Harry discussed their hopes for the future.  Harry and Y/N couldn’t wait until another baby entered their lives.

[adrenaline-roulette]

Is this just fantasy? Chapter 1

Pairing: Brian May x Reader

Warnings: None for this chapter.

Summary: Time travel reader fic (I know it’s been done before!)

"Want me to bring back some ice-cream, and you can bitch about how horrible you day was?”

The idea of ice-cream had never been more appealing. “I believe Ben and Jerry’s is on sale at the moment, I could really go from some chunky monkey.”

“I never understood why you like that one so much!”

“I try to convince myself that because it’s banana flavoured then it must be healthy.”

“As a dietitian in training, it is my duty to tell you, that that is not by any means true.”

“For a dietitian in training, you eat an awful lot of instant mac & cheese.”

“Whoa now, there is no such thing as too much mac & cheese!”

Chapter one: Wake up in the morning, see your sunrise loves to go down

Collapsing on your bed, you let out a deep sigh, feeling your muscles slowly relax against the soft mattress. It had been a long and draining week at work, not only had you been training up a new staff member, but you had had three staff quit unexpectedly leaving you and a few others to pick up the slack! You reach over to the nightstand, blindly searching for the remote for your stereo, smiling triumphantly as your fingers wrap around the thin black controller. After a few missed button mashing, you finally manage to turn on the stereo, your favourite station tuning in automatically, your housemate had never quite understood your obsession with the station, but you loved the fact that it played nothing but rock classics. You allowed yourself to fall into a peaceful state of mind, as the music washed over you, the hypnotic voice of Stevie Nicks singing Gold Dust woman beginning to lull you to sleep.

Just as you feel yourself nearing the brink of sleep, a sharp knock on your bedroom door throws you back into the present, and you blink your eyes open groggily. “Hey Y/N, sorry to wake you!” Your housemate calls from the other side of the door. “Mm, no that’s okay Sara. Come in.” The door handle twists before Sara enters your room, she smiles softly, and you can see how sorry she is for bothering you. “I’m just on my way to the shops quickly, want me to bring back some ice-cream, and you can bitch about how horrible you day was?” She grins, and honestly, the idea of ice-cream had never been more appealing. “I believe Ben and Jerry’s is on sale at the moment, I could really go from some chunky monkey.” There’s a brief look of disgust on her face, before her smile returns. “I never understood why you like that one so much!” You pause briefly before shrugging. “I try to convince myself that because it’s banana flavoured then it must be healthy.” You watch as Sara tries to conceal her laughter, shaking her head in mock disappointment. “As a dietician in training, it is my duty to tell you, that that is not by any means true.” A pout forms on your face as you look across at her, before grinning. “For a dietician in training, you eat an awful lot of instant mac & cheese.” “Whoa now, there is no such thing as too much mac & cheese!” She shakes her head, then turns on her heel to leave your room. “I’ll be back soon!” “See you in a little while.” You smile back, before flopping back into a more comfortable position, this time with your face pressed into your pile of pillows, and one-foot dangling off the side of the bed.

The last few beats of Rebel Rebel play through the speakers, before the radio announcer introduces the next song. “And now for 1970, we saw the Beatles disband, Simon & Garfunkel released their fifth and final album, Black Sabbath released their debut album, and of course Creedence Clearwater Revival released Pendulum. So, to celebrate this amazing year of music, here is Creedence Clearwater Revival, with Have you ever seen the rain. An amazing song released forty-nine years ago. The announcer slowly fades out, before the new song kicks in just as you begin to fall asleep.

Within minutes you’re dreaming, a dream you had experienced only a handful of times before. You were falling, forever falling down a narrow multicoloured tunnel which seemed to have no end in sight. Subconsciously you knew what it meant if you hit the ground, or at least what supposedly happened, but somehow this felt different. It almost seemed as if you could feel the harsh rush of wind against your skin as you fell, the warmth you had felt as you lay in your bedroom being replaced by a sharp cold, similar to pinpricks. After what felt like hours of falling, the ground suddenly comes rushing up out of nowhere, and you crash into solid earth, knocking the wind out of you. Before you have the opportunity to open your eyes, to assess what had just occurred, your vision goes black, and the world around you fades away.

                                             ************************

Sara had arrived at the grocery store with only a short list of necessary items, including a few household essentials, some bread for lunch, and two pints of Ben and Jerry’s.  As she browsed through the aisles, she picked up a few snack items to bring back home for you, in an effort to cheer you up. Sara had no intention of being out for too long, and quickly gathered the remaining items on her list, before stopping in front of the freezer section, gazing at the wide selection of ice-cream. She took out a pint of chunky monkey, and half baked, placing them her shopping cart, then making her way to the self-serve check out. As if by a stroke of fate, the moment you hit the ground after your dream, Sara picked up the pint of chunky monkey, and scowled at it. “Why on Earth did I get this? I hate chunky monkey.” She mumbled, before turning to find the sales assistant. “Excuse me, sorry I didn’t mean to pick this one up.” “Oh, that’s ok, it happens all the time. I’ll take it back for you.” Sara smiled at the young assistant, as he took the ice-cream from her. “Thank you so much.”

As she left the store with two bags, she couldn’t shake the odd sensation that she was forgetting something, and how odd it had been for her to pick up a flavour of ice-cream she hated. Popping the boot to her car, she placed the bags inside, before heading for her apartment. Sara parked her car in the single sided garage, retrieved her bags and made her way up to her apartment. After placing the fridge and freezer items away in the kitchen, she took the remaining items into her room, passing by the spare bedroom on her way. “I really must get around to painting these walls. No one will want to rent with me if I keep them this colour.” She mused aloud, before heading into her room.

                                              ************************

You have no idea how long you slept, and no way of telling, because the moment you open your eyes, you find yourself most certainly not in your bedroom, or any room for that matter. You sit bolt upright in a matter of seconds, your head just visible over the long grass you were surrounded by. “What the fuck?” You breathe out, looking around the vast expanse of nothing but grass around you. You’re in a field, one that you don’t recognise at all, not that you had a whole lot of experience with fields to start with. With a great deal of care, you push yourself up onto your feet, feeling you back crack slightly as you stand. You stretch your arms above your head, as the stiffness in your body slowly leaves you, all that remained now was the fog the was clouding your mind. You don’t remember having anything to drink last night, and certainly not enough to have you waking up in a bloody field with no one around! Your hands clench at your sides, before you make your way to the edge of the field, climbing over the fence that had you surrounded, there didn’t appear to be any cattle around, but you weren’t keen on being on private property, especially when you had no way of explaining how you got there in the first place.

As you walked further away from your respawn point, things only seemed to become stranger. The cars that drove past you were all vintage, the types you had watched your grandfather fix up in his garage when you were a child. They all looked practically brand new, and like nothing you had ever seen just driving around town before. The few people you saw on the streets were all dressed like they had walked straight out of Woodstock, which was both a bold and unusual fashion statement. Though the icing on the cake was when you passed and information kiosk, you made a beeline straight for it, and almost screamed. Right there, on the front of the kiosk was a sign reading, ‘What to see in London.’  Your heart was pounding in your chest, so hard you thought you were about to go into cardiac arrest. You can’t be London, that was physically impossible, you didn’t live anywhere near London, especially not close enough to have woken up in a field here! You fish out your phone from your back pocket, paying no mind the stitching that had appeared on the fabric, trying to keep your focus on one thing at a time.  It takes far too long for your phone to wake up, the screen remaining black for minutes rather than seconds. The moment your regular display appears on the screen, you scramble to type in your pin number. The first thing you see is the lack of bars you have; you have no reception whatsoever. “What?!” You cry out, causing a few people to glance at you curiously. This isn’t possible, there was no such thing as black spots with your phone, you could be at the bottom of a cave, thousands of feet below ground, and you would still be able to call someone.

You shove your phone back in your pocket, taking note that it felt as if your wallet was somehow in your other back pocket, despite it not having been there when you fell asleep. Looking around, you spot a newspaper vending machine near a pub, heading directly for it. You take out your wallet, and place a coin in the coin slot, the drawer opening as you grab out a paper. Scanning your eyes over the top of the headline, you find what you had been looking for, the date. “Get fucked. It is not 1970!” You hiss, clutching the paper between fisted fingers. You feel dizzy as you look around, desperately trying to make some sense of this situation. Not only were you now somehow in London, but to top it all off, you appeared to be forty-nine years in the past! “If this is a prank, it needs to end now.” You say aloud, keeping am eye out for anyone you recognise. Perhaps this was your housemate’s idea of cheering you up, if that was the case, then she could at least show herself!

The pub you were standing out the front of suddenly came to life, as a group of college aged students came barrelling down the stairs and onto the street. You could only pick up bits and pieces of their conversation, though it appeared to be along the lines of, which pub they should next visit, and where had the best music playing tonight. With a deep breathe, you follow along behind the group, making sure to stay back a few paces so to not draw attention to yourself. As you pass by a few shop windows, you take a moment to assess your outfit, immediately noticing how it had changed. You had fallen asleep wearing your favourite pair of ripped denim jeans, and a crimson long sleeved shirt, that was at least two sizes too large, but one of the most comfortable shirts you owned. You had noticed your clothing felt different the moment you had woken in the field, but only now did you finally see just what had changed. Your legs were now encased in a pale blue pair of denim bell bottoms, with the waist reaching your navel, and white embroider flowers decorating the back pockets. Your shirt remained the same colour, though now had a choker neckline, with a deep oval cut out over your chest. The material was skin-tight and was tucked into the waist of your jeans. Finally came the shoes, you had been barefoot since the moment you walked through your apartment door, but apparently some higher power deemed it necessary for you to have shoes while walking through 1970’s London. The black leather boots zipped halfway up your calf, and the heel gave you a whole extra four inches of height.

The group you were trailing behind finally stopped outside of a new pub, taking a moment to checkout the fliers which were displayed on the glass door. With a collective nod, they all entered, and you quickly followed them, taking no note of the fluorescent green poster advertising which band was performing late tonight. 

The moment you enter the pub, you head straight for the bar, desperate for some liquid courage, hoping that maybe it would help you understand just what was going on right now.  You settle down on one of the bar stools, taking a split second to enjoy the way the seat spun beneath you, none of the bars you lived near in your time had spinning barstools. There was only one bartender working from what you can see, but it appeared to only be early in the afternoon still, and you could only assume more staff would arrive as the afternoon progressed.

                                                                                                                        “Afternoon Miss, what can I get for you?” The bartender asks, a cheery grin plastered permanently on his face. He had a fatherly demeanour about him, and you could already tell that he had a larger than life personality. For the first time since you had woken up, you felt safe, and as if you knew exactly where you were, and were no longer lost in a year decades before you had been born, and in a city you were entirely unfamiliar with.

After a few moments of silence, the man clears his throat, though continues to smile down at you. You can only imagine how miserable you must look, as his eyes seem to soften as he takes in your appearance. “Just whatever lager you have on tap please.” He nods at your order, and goes to fill your glass, as you lean your forearms against the sticky wood of the bar. Nothing was making sense about this day, how could you fall asleep in one year, and wake up in an entirely other one. Time travel didn’t exist, in fact you seem to recall reading an article on Buzzfeed the other day, about a scientist who had proven the ability to travel forwards or backwards in time was impossible. “That’s the last time I trust Buzzfeed. Next I’ll find out they lied about what my spirit animal is.” You mutter to yourself, a small smirk tugging at your lips.

“What was that love?” The bartender quires as he places your foaming lager in front of you, lifting a bushy eyebrow down at your rambling.

You shake your head slowly, before smiling up at him. “Sorry, it’s just been an odd day.” Without thinking, you pull out your phone once again, placing it down on the counter. “You don’t happen to have a charger I could burrow, do you?”

The bartender lifts and eyebrow, his lips parting as if he were about to speak, before closing. “What do you mean, a charger? And what is that?” He asks, gesturing down to the slim phone that was waking up beside your glass. Hurriedly you slap your hand over the device, biting your bottom lip. Stupid, so bloody stupid! If this really is 1970, no one will have any idea what you’re talking about!

“Um, never mind. Thank you.” You sigh, before dropping your head down, pressing your forehead against the counter, not caring about what was currently sticking to the tip of your nose.

                                              ************************

Across the pub, three men sat around a table for four, an overflowing ashtray positioned in the centre, as multiple glasses and bottles surrounded it, all in various states of emptiness. One of the men takes a long drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling through the air above the table. “Ten pounds says I can convince little miss single at the bar, to come home with me after the show.”

“Home or your van?” One of the other men smirks, rolling his eyes at the antics of his friend. This was hardly the first time Roger had put money on picking up a lone woman at the bar. But it was the first time he had said anything about taking her home, usually the furthest he got was into the back of his van.

The blonde man frowns, taking a large gulp of his beer, before placing the amber bottle down. “Don’t go getting all technical on me Tim, that’s not the point of a bet. The point is for me to win money.”

“I must ask Roger, are we single handedly funding your degree at the moment, through all of these pointless bets?”

Roger stands slowly from the table, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “It’s not my fault you keep agreeing to my bets Brian!”

“I’m hoping one day you’ll raise the cost to one hundred pounds, and that will be the day you strike out.”

“As if I could ever strike out.”

Liked this chapter? Check out chapter two here! Or check out My Masterlist

[sleepypeaky]

{getaway} pt. 3

Reader is the Blinder’s chauffeur….naturally that entails getaway driving too

Part 3/4 ———-part 1, part 2

also this was unintentional but the reader is gender neutral

WC: 1,209

Warnings: Shooting, blood mention

A/n: set just after season 5, like from the middle of the last episode.

also yes this is far fetched, but its because i have short-attention-span-and-it-needs-to-fit-in-4-chapters disease.

and no this isnt historically accurate obvs but i had to do it to write the fucking thing

tnis is so fun to write so try and stop me. this is kind of a Finn x reader?? idk?? finn is my wife?? but he also smol gay boi?? im confused.

1929

“FINN!”

You ran through small heath.

The dawn light barely came through the thick grey clouds. The morning was just an extended night.

The darkness had only begun to form.

____

You sat in the dark in your car behind the building. It was understood what would happen tonight. And you understood your place in what was about to happen. At some point you would hear a roar, and a group of blinders would come out the back doors, get into the car, and you would drive away.

It was that simple.

Only it wasn’t. Because thats not what happened.

There was no roar. Instead, Johnny Dogs stumbled out the doors alone, something happened, he said, i dont know what but something happened. 

Aberama was dead. There was a mole. Your orders were changed.

No one had seen Finn.

______

“FINN!”

You had looked all night. Your coat was damp from the fog and dampness of the city combined. You ran down to Charlie’s yard, pushing through the thick white haze of mist and coal smoke that was exacerbated by the Cut. 

You trampled the soggy hay and seed that led up to Curly’s stables. 

“Finn?!” You called one last time.

His figure stood up from the corner. There was no illumination in the building. You made out his features by the tonal gray of the outside light.

You trod over and slapped him in the face.

“Finn jesus fucking christ where have you been!?” Anger seethed from every pore as you stared him down.

But there was no defiance in his eyes. 

“I think it was me.” He whispered.

You furrowed your eyebrows, urging him to explain what he was talking about.

He took a shaky breath,

“Bill is gone, i gave him money and he left it, hes gone and he knew.”

Your eyes widened. Fuck.

Finn suddenly looked very very pale. Ghostly pale and afraid.

“oh god.” He stared wide eyed into space, his eyes seemed glassy.

Shit, you thought, this was bad. Really bad. Granted his brothers were the ones to blame: for trusting Finn with someone that could have possibly become, or had always been, a spy. Nevertheless, this was bad for Finn. 

He sat down heavily. You could only imagine the things he was thinking. Two men were dead. Tommy was in shambles. 

You both sat there for a long time. In the dark. 

“What now?” You whispered.

There was a long pause, followed by a deep inhale of smoky air. 

Finn stood up. 

“This was my fault, now i have to fix it.”

And he walked past you and out the stable doors.

You shot up,

“Finn, what?!”

You chased after him. 

He walked swiftly up the road, up to the car, and got in the drivers seat. He turned on the engine. You cursed yourself for teaching such a stubborn mule to drive. 

“Finn get out of the fucking car and think for once in you life!” You yelled through the window.

He turned to you and in an instant you see all his thoughts and fears in his eyes. You saw all the years of reliance on his brothers. You saw all the regret of not being able to protect his family like they could. You knew that this was bigger than this one mistake.

You clenched your jaw.

“Fine. I’ll help. But i have 2 conditions; one, we need at least a rough plan, and two, you let me drive.”

A smile peaked through all the other emotions on his face for a moment. Then he slid across the seat and you got into the car. 

___

“Do we know he’s here?”

You sat in the dark car on a dim street, across from Mosley’s office building. 

“Tommy says he comes here everyday.” Finn replied. 

This did not ease your question.

You skimmed the building with your eyes. The windows were too high up to jump from, and there were no ledges on which to climb. Either he would have to go inside, or wait for Mosley to come out.

It was raining harder now, which might turn out useful to you as a cover. 

“This is fucking insane.” You muttered. “We have no plan, its just the two of us, and we are about to assassinate a member of parliament!”

Finn didn’t seem fazed by your words.

“Tommy had a fucking plan and look what happened, so why not just go for it. And having it just be the two of us is good, no moles.”

He was right, however much you still wanted to believe otherwise.

The things you did know were that you couldn’t get too close: Mosley knew you were Tommy’s chauffeur, and would probably recognize Finn. And you knew that he was probably armed, or had a personal guard.

“Finn, how good is your aim?”

He shrugged,

“pretty good.”

“Pretty good? Finn this isn’t a carnival this needs to work!”

“I’ll get out of the car then! Trust me, i can do this.”

“I still don’t trust you but i swear to god, satan, and everything in between: if you get me or yourself killed i will kill you.”

___

“Where’s Finn!?!” Ada yelled as she kicked open the door to Tommy’s study.

Tommy was at his desk with his head down. Arthur ventured to answer,

“We haven’t seen him since the speech. Johnny Dogs said (y/n) went to look for him.”

“Arthur that was 12 hours ago! They could be hurt!”

RING

Tommy raised his head and grabbed the phone.

“What?”

He eyes widened.

He slammed the phone back down on the receiver, and scrambled to his feet.

“Mosley’s been shot.”

“Oh my god.” Ada gasped.

They all ran out the door.

_________

Mosley stepped out onto the rain slicked sidewalk. His protection, he hadn’t bothered learning the man’s name, stood beside him. They had left the office to go to one of the many gentleman’s lounges that Mosley frequented. But as they began to walk, a young man stepped out before them.

Mosley recognized him,

“You’re a peaky boy are you not?”

The boy looked up,

“Yes sir, I have an urgent message from Mr. Shelby.”

Mosley perked his ears,

“Yes?”

Finn tore his pistol out of his pocket and shot Mosley directly in the forehead. But the guard had readied his weapon when he first saw Finn step out into the path, and he was ready.

____

A firework of red blood exploded from Mosley’s head and was quickly washed down by the rain. 

His body collapsed to the ground.

But before you could rejoice, 2 more shots pierced the air.

Fuck

You screeched the car up to the path just as Finn stumbled to the car.

He threw open the door and fell into the passenger seat.

“Go!” He croaked.

You did, knowing people would come to investigate the shots.

The street had been clear due to the weather, thank god.

You didn’t take your eyes off the road until you felt you were out of harms way.

“You did it!” You shouted, turning to Finn.

You went pale.

Finn was slumped in the seat, hand clutched over his stomach.

Blood gushed through his fingers.

His eyes were closed.

_______

[flxurnati]

— && guests may mistake me as ( ana de armas ), but really i am ( fleur de leon + female + she/her ) and my DOB is ( 10/29/1995 ). i am a ( waitress at a local dinner ) and would like to stay in suite ( #312 ). i won’t be much of a bother because i am ( + resourceful, captivating, appreciative ), but i can also be ( - restraining, vulnerable, narrowing ) at times. personally, i like to ( write poetry, model, volunteer at animal shelters  ) when i have the time to relax, and my favorite snack is ( stuffed jalapenos ) to have in my suite. thank you for checking in! ( duckie, EST, 24 ).

tw: prostitution, drugs, addiction

GENERAL

Name: fleur gabriella de leon Age: 25; oct.29.1995 Place of birth: taos, new mexico Spoken languages: English, spanish Sexual orientation: pansexual Occupation: waitress 

APPEARANCE

Eye color: brown Hair color: blonde Height: 5′6′’ Scars: barely there scars from basic accidents

Tattoos: one

FAVOURITE Color: sky blue Entertainment: finding new places to hang out, reading, volunteering Pastime: reading, playing pool, hanging around the hidden gems of the malnati Drink: water, coffee, chocolate milk/hot chocolate

fleur was a downright southern girl. Growing up on a horse farm in the west she didn’t see much excitement in her life, but that never stopped the craving of adventure that coursed through her body. She was always at home, forced to be homeschooled so she could always be around to help with the horses, not that it bothered her much, there was always a certain connection she had with horses that she didn’t share with anyone else.

Even though there wasn’t much to giver her for fun as she grew up she always searched for the opportunity to sneak out, run through the woods and as she got into her teens she even went out into town and tried to make as many friends as she could, wanting to experience the things she should at sixteen years old going to parties and finding out just what a hangover feels like when you have to clean out a horse stall at five o’clock in the morning. Her parents never found out, which she didn’t think they would care much if they did, as long as she did her work they were happy. . Soon those once a week sneakouts turned into nightly events and the perfect horse girl was grabbing the attention of the town boys. They found her pretty and carless enough to take advantage of by giving her too many drinks and taking advantage of how drunk she was, fleur thought it was all for fun and didn’t realize in town she had the reputation that really made her look bad. Through the years the partying continued and the girl even was in a few relationships that never lasted, she was too much of a free spirit and even though people liked to party with her they found her just not the one to fit in.

She was eighteen when she finally graduated, and the second she did she wanted to be as far away from the good ol’ south as she could get. So applying job in chicago was the first thing she did, it hurt her parents to see their girl go but they knew being the farm girl wasn’t her and she needed to branch out.

 Though, moving wasn’t as easy as she thought. This was no small town where things were easy, her parents were far away and she was all on her own. And soon enough any job she got just… wasn’t enough. And one night after being kicked out of her third apartment; too prideful to go home the girl was walking down the road when a man in a fancy car pulled up, gave her a price and waited for an answer. Fleur didn’t want to do it but… she was used to this. Back home it was almost the same and this time she would be paid, enough to get her a room for a week. Only this didn’t end on that one night. She slipped back into alcohol and drugs to get through the night and soon she was just being passed back and forth from person to person, trying to make it through the week in a fog. It was bad. Fleur was losing everything she knew but didn’t know how to break out of the chain of addiction until she soon had to be forced into seeking help.

25 and attending AA meetings seemed to help slightly but she still needed a place, a home one of the people running the group saw real progress from the girl and they gave her enough money for a room and to keep her going for a month and she wont have to pay them back if she can keep sober. still, she did also manage to get a job at an alright diner close by to keep things good for herself. she is grateful for this turn in her life... but she struggles a lot not to relapse into her old life of easy money and a cloud to keep her up.

it had been a few months of being sober, and fleur really was doing better, a waitress wasn’t the best job but it had it’s perks; being able to flirt with all the customers. 

HEADCANNONS

✘- on the weekends she likes to volunteer at animal shelters. it’s no farm but it reminds her of where she came from.

✘- she leaves notes around for her roommates to find. some are silly little things that motivate them through the day and others are about food they need in the fridge. 

✘- because she in in recovery for her drug/alcohol addiction she is trying really hard to stop. some nights are better than others but sometimes she has to fight herself as hard as she can from not calling a dealer 

✘-sometimes she is afraid of walking into an old client. the fancier men would treat her to nicer stays at the fancier hotels... and one was usually the malnati for a night. she always loved the cool and clean sheets, showers, and the view that would come with the room and being with a rich man. 

AESTHETICS

vhs tapes, rain drops sliding down the window of a parked car, puddles that beg to be splashed in, warm borrowed flannels and soft cotton shirts, long naps in the sun, sticky notes and ink smudged hands, beat up paperback novels that smell like home, baked cookies, popcorn, melodious  voices ,  stories  without  happy  endings ,   slow  music, bare  feet  in  the  mornings ,   naturally  rosy  lips ,   loose  blouses ,   sunshine ,   the  rain  speaks  quietly ,  blooming  gardens ,  tangled  hair  ribbons ,   from  the  dirt  a  flower  must  grow ,  soft  pillows .

CONNECTIONS

/   sisters   /   skinny  love   /   ex - friend  with  whom  she  had  a  falling  out   /   familial  relationships   /   roommates   /   bad  influence   /   unlikely  friends   /  old client    /   aa member who helps her   /   exes   /   someone who comes by the hotel restaurant and always requests her

bianca salazer - (ex-best friend): these two were inseparable. parties, alcohol, and drugs were their normal night out and when it came to being their for each other it was night or day for the two. but when fleur caught up in rehab and she felt like she just needed to distance herself from that life. it was hard enough battling herself from relapsing. and it risked the greatest friend she ever had. fleur wants so badly to reconnect but she is afraid of being tempted.

jackson allen - (friend/volunteer buddy): jackson and fleur first met at the dog shelter, he and fluer volunteer there and when they found out they both lived at the malnati she wanted to be closer with him. now she’s just glad she has another friend living so close.

harlow - (fluer’s favorite youtuber): when fleur found out that harlow, her favorite yourtuber and local singer was in the same building as her she definitely fan girled. fleur has been watching harlow forever and now she gets to listen to her in person at the malnati.

[bluewindfall]

The dull, insistent vibrating buzz of his phone drags Chi Zhen from his sleep, and as he cracks an eye open, the screen lights up with Lu Li as the caller. It’s currently three thirty in the morning, but knowing Lu Li, he could still be working.

Chi Zhen snaps up from his bed, kicking his comforter aside and picks up the phone immediately, shaking the sluggish fog from his head. “Lu Li, what’s wrong?”

“Chi Zhen,” Lu Li says, voice oddly muffled through the phone, “I need help. Can I come over?”

“Yeah, of course, uh, did something happen? Are you okay?” Chi Zhen asks, “Lu Li?”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Lu Li replies. “Sorry.” He abruptly hangs up and it leaves Chi Zhen feeling a discomforting tension in his gut. Worry creeps down his spine like spindly fingers, dragging cold trails. He paces back and forth in his bedroom for a minute or two, then gets dressed agitatedly.

Lu Li hadn’t explained the situation and Chi Zhen doesn’t know what to do to prepare. Should he get a first aid kit out just in case? Has he made progress with the case? But it’s Friday; Lu Li would have gone home already. He shouldn’t have been out investigating.

Chi Zhen boils water absently as he waits. He needs some caffeine, but if he makes coffee, he’ll have too much energy. He dumps a bunch of tea leaves into the teapot, letting them steep carelessly. It’s a cheap grocery store brand anyway.

A quick series of knocks on the door jolts Chi Zhen out of his thoughts and he rushes to shut the stove off, unlocking the door.

He feels a measure of relief as he realizes Lu Li looks fine; he’s not injured and he doesn’t appear to be worried at all.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Lu Li says as Chi Zhen grabs his arm, pulling him inside swiftly.

“Yeah, but it’s fine. Want some tea? What’s going on?” Chi Zhen asks, leading Lu Li to the kitchen.

“I forgot, tomorrow is Easter. I usually take Yinuo to a local egg hunt, but it’s cancelled because of the rain tomorrow.”

Chi Zhen frowns, pouring the tea carefully. “Yeah, it’s definitely going to rain. That could be messy.”

Lu Li ignores the tea and crosses his arms, leaning on the counter. “I thought, if you’re not busy....” he looks up with a questioning glance and Chi Zhen shakes his head. “Then, we could hide eggs in your house.”

Chi Zhen takes a sip of his tea before he answers to give himself a bit more time to process what Lu Li’s going on about. It’s been a while since he’s even given Easter more half a second of passing thought. He can hardly remember what the point of looking for the eggs was.

But Lu Li is giving him an expectant look and seriously, this guy would move heaven and earth for his daughter, of course he’s going to make Chi Zhen help him out at four in the morning.

“Wait,” Chi Zhen says, “I thought Easter was on Sunday. Tomorrow’s Saturday,” he points out.

Lu Li gives him a confused look. “Today is Saturday.” Chi Zhen checks his phone and, okay it is Saturday, what was he thinking?

“It takes a long time to plan things out. We need to get moving. Can you help or not?”

“Okay, okay. What do you need?”

“Eggs and something to put inside as a reward.” Lu Li says.

“Like candy or whatever?” Chi Zhen grabs a pad of paper from his living room table and writes a small list as Lu Li rattles off potential options.

“I read online, there was an idea to write small tickets as rewards, like: staying up for an hour or going to a movie.” Lu Li says, flicking past a few pages on his phone. “We can add some of those and candy, and other things we can find. First, we need plastic eggs that open up. We also need real eggs to paint later. Or dye. But, the contents need to be removed and if they’re not completely dry, the paint will smear.”

Chi Zhen secretly wants to laugh a little. He’s taking this so seriously, doing research and planning.

They take Lu Li’s car to the supermarket and Lu Li buys a dozen large eggs, carefully checking for broken or cracked ones as he sets the carton down in the cart cautiously.

Lu Li instructs Chi Zhen to grab plastic eggs while he looks for a syringe of some sorts.

It takes Chi Zhen a considerable amount of time to find the plastic eggs, and Lu Li’s back in a surprisingly short amount of time.

Chi Zhen stares at the bag of multicolored plastic eggs and ponders. “How many eggs do we want? Do we need that many?”

There are so many options: there’s a bag of sixty medium sized plastic eggs, another bag of forty and a few twenty egg bags. Then, there are these combo ones which have five large eggs along with fifteen medium eggs, but the colors are significantly shabbier.

Chi Zhen looks in the cart and grabs a small yellow stuffed animal. It’s soft and adorable as all stuffed animals innately are, with round spots of pink dotting its cheeks, shiny black eyes and short stumpy little buds for arms. “Is this…”

“It’s a duck. I think.” Lu Li replies, without looking away from the plastic eggs.

“Are you sure? This isn’t even, it doesn’t even have wings,” Chi Zhen protests. “This is not a duck.”

Lu Li grabs the twenty egg bag and sets it in the cart. Then, he reaches back in and takes the bag out again. “Let’s check the crafts store first, then come back here. It’s right next door.”

“Oh. Let’s split the work then. I’ll buy some candy and the eggs, uh, the real ones, and you go buy the paint and other stuff. I’ll head over there once I’m done.”

Lu Li nods curtly, “Call me once you’re there.”

Chi Zhen turns the cart around and picks a out decent bag of vibrant little chocolate eggs. There’s no one else in the store at all, probably due to the time of day—

Is the craft store even open right now?

Chi Zhen grabs the bag of twenty eggs and puts it back in the cart. Because there is no way the craft store is open right now. He’s not waiting, what, four hours to come back and buy plastic eggs later. No matter how much of a perfectionist Lu Li wants to be with this, he’ll just have to settle for these eggs.

He grabs a packet of reasonably cute chapsticks and another packet of small hair ties embellished with polka dots and ribbons, adding them to the small pile of other trinkets Lu Li had found.  It should be enough now, so Chi Zhen goes and checks out.

The cashier murmurs good morning and scans Chi Zhen’s items rapidly, placing the items into a paper bag with skillful efficiency. Satisfied with his purchases, Chi Zhen makes to walk out when Lu Li comes back in the other door.

“They were closed, right?” Chi Zhen asks, handing the bag to Lu Li for him to inspect.

Lu Li glances at the contents and rolls his eyes. ”You should have told me.”

Chi Zhen shrugs, “Alright, let’s go back. I got your food dye and some watercolor paint too. That should be enough, right?”

Lu Li stares at the bag for a minute longer and Chi Zhen watches as a corner of his lip tilts upward almost unnoticeably. “Thanks, Chi Zhen.”

“Hey, what are you saying? Of course I had to help. Come on, we have to blow out these eggs already. What are we going to do with a dozen scrambled eggs? Should we make a cake or something?”

Lu Li drives them back and Chi Zhen attempts to yawn discreetly several times. It’s too early to be up, let alone on a Saturday. The sky is still dark, covered with clouds like dark clumps of cotton, saturated with heavy rain.

He’s happy though. It’d felt like there was… a distance between them since Chi Zhen had returned. But right now, he can be grateful, even for these small things, somehow silly and unremarkable.

[typical-author]

A Burnt Offering

A Burnt Offering Script (2nd draft)

For I desired mercy, and not sacrifice; and the knowledge of God more than burnt offerings ~ Hosea  6:6

The film starts off with pictures of a midnight sky under a full moon.  

Narrator - It all started on a cold night.

The camera points down to expose a city burning with lights  

Narrator - When all the little rock n rollers are running about. There were four of us,

Screen switches to four young adults dressed in offensive customs. In the fog of a misty night.

Narrator - Driving in an RV that took us months to afford.

The movie turns into an RV driving down the road. Then shows the main character who is also the narrator.

Narrator - I remember that night as the night it all started. We were cruising the America in search of stardom.

It starts to rain and shows the RV racing down the road. First you can see the characters through the window then you can barely see them as you get a side angle to the RV

Narrator - where we would never have to worry about money, food , or drugs.

The movie continues showing the front side to a club.

Narrator-Not that we weren’t interested in the girls

Shows inside the club with people having sex.

Narrator - there was just enough to go around.

Back to the narrator speaking

Narrator - so we were content. Following what we thought was right

Shows a kid watching a TV with the narrator in it

Narrator - or maybe just a suicidal drug frenzy.

Shows pictures of different kinds of drugs and ends with a man doing heroine

Narrator - maybe a dance with the devil

Shows a man dressed as the devil with fire burning behind him.

Narrator - We had it all,

Shows the main character and the band that shared the same RV. (the “WE” scene)

Narrator - A band and an RV. We were going to jam on the restless nights.

The band starts playing music. (the “WE” scene)

Narrator - we also had some cocaine and marijuana.

Two baggies are tossed in the back seat of a car filled with what seems to be cocaine and marijuana.

Narrator - to pull on our spirits and twist them into lovely pain.

Shows the band playing music but the sound is muted out so the narrator can talk. Then as the narrator says lovely pain it shows a fake picture of the moon and then pop the moon goes away and leaves the background of the picture with stars and dark clouds.  

Narrator - We also had absinthe for the hardcore.

Has a picture of a man with a skull for a head holding an absinthe bottle  in his hand

Narrator - and acid for the relaxed

Shows a big sheet of acid being rolled up.

Narrator - more drugs to last our whole lives

they opening their trunk and exposing all kinds of different drugs. More then they’d ever need.

Narrator - and our sales were rising

Shows money in a suitcase, and people at a bank smiling at their rich transactions

Narrator - Giving us money here and there. You know, for the times you just wanted something stupid.

Now the film goes into a sleeping man while he’s driving down the road. You can hear cars beeping and wind blowing this keeps on going until the next sentence is said.

Narrator - When moving from small town to big town to decent sized town and back a couple of times you realize the necessities.

Film a girl walking down the road with a sexy skirt on.

Narrator - When you see a  woman you try it! No matter what. You don’t know how many miles it will take before your next chance…

Shows people having sex with people filming it.

Narrator - at a porno movie or a straight up alley gangbang.

Shows the band smoking cigarettes and taking turns on a girl. Then switches back to the narrator speaking

Narrator  - so you should always try to do what you can while you can, or it might not happen.

Film now turns its attention to a couple of kids huffing glue then switches to people smoking weed. And doing opium through a bowl. Then people doing even more drugs.

Narrator during the people doing drugs - and also keep a sign out that your always open to other drugs. Remember when they told you marijuana was bad and you tried it? You loved it didn’t you. That’s inspiration to do other drugs.

Narrator scene where he finishes his sentence  - Cause there not bad, people just tell you that.  

Back to the main scene with the narrator as he tells the story - anyways it was me my friend for life Caleb,

Shows Caleb playing a guitar and waving it around as he head bangs to the music he was playing

Narrator - my high school friend Mark,

Shows a big guy with long hair playing a bass riff

Narrator - and my childhood friend Nick.

Shows a man playing the drums and then switches to the main character (the narrator) on stage with a microphone as he does a rock n roll scream.

Narrator - we we’re anarchists,

Shows a gang of people fighting and breaking in stores

Narrator - druggies,

Shows even more people doing drugs

Narrator - Sid fiends and every other kind of fiend for any matter that  could possibly exist.

Shows the band smoking cigarettes and giving each other high fives

Narrator - Searching for the day to die.

Shows a sweating man doing heroine and barely alive

Narrator - when we had too much. We were immortals

Shows the band drinking 40oz and doing crack. Later it shows the main character in jail went the guard slams the bars shut locking him in. Then as he says the next line it shows him being released.

Narrator - time went by and we just released our first CD

Shows a CD being thrown on a chair with the words “dig in the grave” written on it.

Shows back at the band that was playing in the “we” scene

Narrator - We have received $14,000 on it release plus the $40,000 we saved up in Florida.

Shows a person throwing money up in the air while bouncing on the bed

In this scene the band is drunk and strung out on drugs pasted out in the RV then  as the narrator says little silicone fuck nymphs people appear sleeping with the band mates mostly a bunch of girls with breast implants.

Narrator - damn we were fucked up, and we had to start touring and sleeping with all these little silicone fuck nymph-o’s .

Continues to show the band with big breasted girls. They all seem to be having a good time having sex, drinking alcohol, and smoking pot.

Narrator - well we had to do it, and we loved it, so it was the right thing to do.

Scene flips to them back stage with some porn stars.

Narrator - anyways we were back stage at one of our concerts where we had all our loyal porn girls fuck us rock stars.

Then it shows a girl that looked smart and innocent. It shows a face shot then people go in and paint angel wings and a halo on her with a computer.

Narrator - and then I seen her, the one that looked like she had no reason to be here. The one that we’d scare and send home crying cause she didn’t know what double D’ed meant.

Switches to him and her in a shot  then sometimes just him sometimes just her.

Narrator - I asked myself… ‘what’s such an innocent girl doing here?” “was she lost? Frightened? In danger!? Could she be the girl I would talk to and try to comfort? I did need inspiration  on my next CD. Could she be the angel in my acid trips 4 years earlier? Maybe”

Girl - So you’re the one that calls himself Scar aren’t you?

The two shake hands

Narrator - it was no lie or illusion she said something to me.

Scar - Yeah its an old nick name from my home town. Its cause I have scars on my chest.

Scar lifts up his shirt to reveal scars up and down his torso.

The girl rubs his scars gently and the speaks again

Girl - yeah that must have been painful how did you do it?

Scar then starts blushing as he says the next line.

Scar - I don’t tell anybody, I guess its just to long of a story for me to tell.

Narrator - and I must have said the right words or the right looks because the next thing she said was really sexy.

Girl - I’m interested

She says as she stops rubbing his scars and follows his happy trail down to the belt of his pants.

Narrator scene as he speaks to the camera - By this time it was too late.

The girl gives an up skirt due to the camera being so low to the ground and propped up showing her butt

Narrator - I haven’t had a piece of ass in a good day and a half. So I did what I had to do.

The two kiss and afterwards she smiles

Narrator - I kissed her, she smiled

He takes off her shirt and skirt and she gets on her knees

Narrator - I undressed her, she went down

She takes off his shirt and he kicks off his pants and he drops to his knees as she stands

Narrator - She undressed me, I went down

Then we show the audiences the bare naked stars bare asses humping each other

Narrator - we fucked, once then twice

Continues to show them having sex then switches to the narrator telling the story

Narrator - It was all I could give to one so beautiful.

Then after all that the two have a talk after sex, laying on the bed smoking cigarettes.  The camera switches between both characters as they talk.

Girl - So where are you from?

Scar - No where and everywhere. I travel a lot with my friends. You know the presented band members. We just go with the wind.

Girl - That sounds interesting. I guess you’ve meet quite a lot of people. I always wanted to travel everywhere but I’ve never been able to save up that kind of money.

Scar - I guess we just kinda lucked into it. After we moved to Florida and all it was easy. But enough about me tell me about yourself, like where are you from? What all have you seen? Tell me about that kind of stuff.

Girl - What me!? I don’t know I haven’t really seen anything. I’m from a small town in Ohio where there’s really not much to do even if you tried. Sometimes I go to the beach in the summers but other then that I really haven’t been anywhere.

Scar - perfect….

He says as he rolls over and goes to sleep then in the darkness of the night the narrator says…

Narrator - …a beautiful 19 year old girl that hasn’t seen the world yet. I could make her dreams come true, but instead… I left her two hundred dollars and a note saying ‘until we meet again.’

Films the note he leaves behind and the two hundred dollars as the paperweight. She lays snuggled in the hotel bed as he walks out the door.  Then as we film him getting in the RV…

Narrator - I had to me and the boys had to finish these last four months of touring. Then I would have time, but then again it could be two late….

Scar gets a puzzled thought as he  looks back at the hotel through the RV window.

Narrator - well better luck next time. I didn’t even get her name.

Scene skips to a bunch of people walking down the street back and forth down New York city.

Narrator - well people come and people go in this world. Although I somehow believe that mine and her tale has not yet ended.

Scar then appears at a bar checking out his watch to see what time it was. His eyes are dilated and his leg is shaking up a storm. He seems to be eagerly expecting something.

Narrator - as time went by I later find myself in a club in the center of LA. Tripping my balls off and listening to this group of people talking about how they never though people like this  could exist in a the world they lived in so far away.  

Scar leans back in his chair and grabs the attention of the group of people

Scar - Life is nothing more then a light ball or sugar cube

Narrator - Frightening the small villagers away behind them was a girl I couldn’t see before…

Shows the people leaving and a girl present sipping on a martini. Then an expression on Scars face like he just seen a ghost.

Scar - Oh my fuck its her.

Scar almost gets out of his seat then gently remains seated.

Narrator - the one night stand so long ago I don’t remember if its still a one night stand,  but its useless,  I’ve done told myself ‘Scar buddy oh pal don’t leave this spot while on acid not for anything.

He messes with his collar or anything else he has to fiddle with, a tie, or his hair something, anything.

Narrator - but more acid.

Scar then turns his head back to the girl

Narrator- there she is, the girl I’ve turned into my own little image. The one I’ve thought about for nights thinking and sometimes screaming

Shows Scar in a hotel bed as the camera looks down on him

Scar - She’s not this way !!!

Back at the bar

Narrator - but its hopeless. I just lost her while thinking about the things I just said.

Shows Scars puzzled look and then the seat where she was sitting

Narrator - she is now gone, but I know she’ll be back. Yeah she’ll be back, or maybe its just the acid talking. I don’t know. Its not the same…

Then shows him get up and use the bathroom. In the bathroom Scar pulls out a mirror and a bag of cocaine

Narrator - Pulling on the little ones, smashing all the smaller ones. Opening the bag of cocaine an image of Scar is reveled slightly and giant stepping on crowds of people while holding some in his hand. This is just a little thing to be funny.

When it hits around 3:00am to 4:00am people start leaving the bar as do I when the parties over ten to fifteen lines.

Scar does two or three lines and then lefts his head up off the mirror in a rush.

Scar - ah

Scar heads out of the club its dark all around but there is a few street lights nearby.

Narrator - I started heading out of the club when to my surprise…

The girl pops out of the shadows and exposed under the street lights like a spot light drawn to her presence.

Narrator - …she pops out of the shadows of LA and into the bright lights of Los Angeles

Girl - Remember me? We met in California on your porn rock tour.

Scar looks stunned and frightened then the two have a conversation

Scar - yes I remember you quite well. What brings you to this part of the US?

Narrator - It seemed she was scared, and lost, ut that could just be her angelic charm. Who knows?

Girl - oh just enjoying the night life down here.

Narrator - I could tell she needed my help. So I asked her…

Scar - Do you need a place to stay. Its cold out here and the streets aren’t meant for pretty girls like yourself. I got an RV and I could even take you back to Ohio if that’s where your going.

Narrator - I knew now that she felt safe.

She looks around flattered by the suggestion then smiles at him.

Girl - I’m no longer living in Ohio but you could make sure I’m safe for tonight.

Scar stares in shock coming off his buzz.

Scar - right

Then the two hold each others hands while they walk to the RV. During this time the narrator speaks again.

Narrator - so it was settled. She would be mine again for tonight.

The two laugh as the stumble around trying to get on the bus. He grabs her ass trying to help her from falling.

Narrator - I took her in and asked her if she ever done cocaine, and strangely enough she never tried it. So I pulled out my story about marijuana not being bad. Scar cuts out a line for her on a table as the seat in the back RV seats and says - They just tell you that

Narrator - and she tried it

Later after a few more lines the two start another conversation

Girl - That wasn’t that bad, and I like it on my tongue.

Scar bursts out laughing as he is clearly strung out on the drugs.  Then he stops to speak.

Scar - I would never give you something you wouldn’t enjoy.

Narrator - and she smiled

Shows the girl giving a smile

Narrator - then she approached me with hands flat on my chest then curling the fingers like a cat pretending to cut my chest open once more.

Girl does as the narrator describes then switches to another scene like the one in the hotel where they took each others close off, but this time they’re in an RV. It’s the same thing.

Narrator before they undress each other - there has always been something I liked about her. Was it her size? She was about a one hundred and ten pound twenty year old with a cute face and a perfect little body. Her hair reminded me of an angels being washed by time. And here it goes…

The two stop in front of a bed and start to make out

Narrator - she undressed me then went down.

Shows the girl taking off his close and then dropping to her knees. Later the two are on the bed having sex… again.

Narrator - she fucked me, once then twice.

This part shows the characters in fast forward Shows them in their underwear running around the bus while doing countless amounts of cocaine and marijuana. The two move faster and faster each time they do a line until the film can’t take it.

Narrator - then we did some more cocaine and marijuana…

Shows Scar holing a sugar cube high in the air with his tongue sticking out

Narrator - …and then just a little bit of more acid. Then and only then did our trips begin

Shows Scar dropping the sugar cube in his mouth

Scar - woo

Chapter two  

Chapter two starts off at the dawn of the next morning. All around you can tell the sun is coming up. Scar is tucked in a corner with a cigarette still burning in his hand.

Narrator -  this is all somehow poetry. This small town goddess, the vile remaining acid, the everlasting cocaine. I am here is this time talking and writing of life, death, love, hate, white and black. Along with me in these states of mind is my will-o. Killing and then living loving to kill.

Scar gets several flashes in his head as the narrator reads the above part. One of a child being born and then a man getting shot as he says Life, death. Then two people hugging and then two people fighting as he says, love, hate. Then back to Scar in the corner when he says white and black. The focus stays on Scar until he says my will-o then it shows a man all dressed up in a Halloween costume. Then back to Scar to finish the rest of what was said.

Narrator - and now an angel that came from the world. The world that has always been there, a world made and then passed down by people and emotions of all sorts. The kind of stuff kids learn and see to the misery of the old and the death that it brings. To the quite quiet times alone when we’re trying to sleep. She is the angel of love. She even knew it.

During the above part, as the narrator speaks scar puts out his cigarette and gets up after the words “She even knew it.”  

The next scene is with him driving and her in the passenger seat sowing together some old clothes.

Girl - what to do what to do.

Scar - So where are you going? I mean anywhere important?

Scar shifts gears in the RV

Girl -  No.

The girl says real simply.

Narrator - damn she looked lost. Maybe I shouldn’t have giving her them drugs. But she was twenty years old. She even had a few id’s and a license to prove it. Still, all she’s ever done was pot and a few inhalants. I gave her acid and cocaine, right before I fucked her.  

[mushroomminded]

fundeadasylum submitted:

Okay this is really sloppy and I’m not altogether happy with it and I guess you can post it if you want to????? But here’s that weird crossover we talked about this morning.

“So, let me get this straight,” Jon was frowning in concentration as he pushed his glasses up his nose, “You were in a desert–”

“Wasteland.” The man corrected, not looking up from where he was picking through the garbage of the alleyway.

“Okay, wasteland,” Jon amended, “And then you went through some narrow canyons and ended up here. Miles and miles and miles away from the nearest desert. Can you see why we have trouble believing you?”

Beside him, Matt nudged him hard with an elbow, “Hey, stranger things have happened. My dads said they survived, like, three zombie apocalypses.”

Jon resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Whenever that spook Griffa is ‘round he sometimes talks of doors,” Said the man. He finally gave up on digging through the rubbish and moved closer to the pair, trying to look past them to the mouth of the alley, “Said the walls of the world are thin ‘cause we been rubbing away at them. And Griffa doesn’t speak porky so that’s my best guess at what happened.” His accent was strange, a garbled concoction of slang and inflections that didn’t quite make sense.

“Hey…wait…” Matt said slowly, “Do you…do I look…familiar to you?”

The stranger glanced at him, muddy green eyes flickering in the gloom as they glanced up and down, “No, sorry mate. Should I? What’s your name?”

Matt looked crushed and Jon put a tentative hand on his shoulder in reassurance, “It’s Matt but…just forget it…”

“That’s my name!” The man bounded into the light and clasped Matt’s hand in his, pumping it up and down enthusiastically, “Nice to meet you Matt! I’m Matt! And you are?”

“Ah, Jon. My name’s Jon.” Jon stuttered (“Really! I also know a Jon!”).  He was beginning to see why Matt had asked what he had.

This dusty, dirty, trash digging man draped in rags and leather and rings of stained metal jewelry…looked just like Matt’s missing father.

****

They tried to get this dirty, older, possibly alternate dimension Matt to stay in the alley until they could figure out how to get him home. But he wasn’t having it.

“I’ve only seen pictos and heard Wordburger’s tell of the Big Smokes! I’m gonna see what’s out there!”

Of course, feet from the mouth of the alley, he stopped dead in his tracks, mouth agape as he stared at the road,

“By the Goddess of V8 that’s a lot of bloody cars!”

Jon flushed red with embarrassment as some passing bystanders and tugged at Older-Matt’s arm. The man continued to gawk at everything around him; the sidewalk (“It’s firm as stone but shaped as squarely as steel!”), the buildings (“High as mountains! They really do reach the sky!”), the people (“How are they so pale and where’s their armor? Their protection?”). He seemed especially baffled by the sheer amount of vehicles on the roads. He stood stock still for a moment as a trailer truck rumbled past them, watching it go by with the unbridled awe of a child (“A real road train…wait ‘till I tell Pau…!”).

“But the guzzoline!” He exclaimed as they darted through a zebra crossing before the lights changed, “Where do you keep the guzzoline? There are so many cars there must be a ton of guzzoline!”

It took them several minutes to parse that he was talking about gasoline.

As the clouds thickened overhead, the two friends dragged Older-Matt into a nearby petrol station for snacks and to get out of the public eye. The man was immediately enamored by the sheer amount of color in the place.

“What do we do with him?” Matt hissed under his breath, “He can’t come home with us, my dads would freak!”

“We can’t just let him wander around on his either, though!” Jon replied, worrying the hem of his shirt, “He’ll end up getting himself killed or thrown in an institution or something!”

“So, what, we just follow him around all day and babysit him?”

“I dunno, but we can’t—wait, where’d he go?”

Matt cursed as he realized his older self had vanished. He and Jon set off at a rapid pace through the store and found the man lingering in the back near the coolers. His hands were pressed against the glass, shock written clearly across his face as he stared in awe at the rows of water bottles crisply displayed in the racks.

“There’s so much of it…!” He breathed, breath fogging the glass.

“So much of what? Are you okay?” Jon asked as they approached.

“Aqua-cola!” Older-Matt cried, “And it’s all just sitting there! Who controls it!? Who’s in charge of this base!? Why is no one protecting it!?”

“Dude, it’s just water.” Matt shrugged, confused and slightly alarmed by the man’s enthused and desperate demeanor.

His older self stared at him for a moment and then said, without a shred of hesitation,

“I’m taking all of them.”

****

“I can’t believe we just got banned from another petrol station.” Jon lamented as they made their way down the street.

“At least it wasn’t my fault and nothing was on fire this time!” Matt argued back, hands in his hoodie pockets and shoulders hunched against the encroaching gloom of the low hanging sky. His gaze darted up to the figure trotting merrily ahead of them, rags swaying with each step, “But, ya know, I was thinking…what kind of desert place must he come from that they don’t have water? It’s gotta be bad, right?”

Jon nodded in agreement, “It must be bad, wherever he’s from. I feel…kind of sorry for him…”

Matt brightened suddenly and ran ahead, grabbed his older self’s arms, pulling him down the street. Jon hurried after them, confused until he saw where Matt was leading them. Then he smiled.

A few turns later and they were standing on the sidewalk beside a small, local park.

Older-Matt froze. His hands were over his mouth, his eyes wide and glossy as tears tracked silently down his cheeks.

“Th…The Green Place…” He whispered hoarsely and fell to his knees in the grass with a choked sob.

****

They stayed in the park until it began to rain.

A mist, at first, and then a drizzle, and finally a proper summer rain, heavy stubborn. The other patrons scattered, heading to their homes at the first sign of the clouds opening up, but the trio stayed. They ducked into the large pavilion when the heavy rains began to fall, laughing and shaking droplets from their hair. Jon had the foresight to rescue their bag of snacks hoarded from the vending machine from its spot beside the swings. They stayed under the pavilion for a while, talking, watching the rain fall, listening to Older-Matt’s stories of the wasteland and its wonders and dangers, of the fortress where he lived and of the people he lived with.

“Here,” Jon shrugged his backpack off and pushed it across the picnic table to Older-Matt, “I got some stuff from the store before we got kicked out. I want you to take it back with you.”

“You stole it!?” Matt cried, looking far more pleased than he should have.

“No!” Jon’s ears turned pink, “I bought it all! There’s some nonperishables and water bottles in there. A-and some medical supplies. I know it’s not a lot but…maybe it can help.”

The man from the desert looked as if he might cry again. But at that moment there was a blaze of lightning followed by a loud crack of thunder. Matt clapped his hands over his ears and Jon flinched. But the man in rags just rose from the bench, slinging the backpack over his shoulder and pulling his goggles down over his eyes. His face was turned towards the sky, watching the boiling clouds overhead.

“Storm’s rollin in’,” He said mildly, a small smile on his face, “Feels like it’s about time for me to get home.”

“Huh? How?” Matt half rose from his seat, a frown on his face.

His older self shrugged, turning away to face the steadily increasing downpour, “Just sounds like the rumble of the V8 calling me. ‘Sides, my family will be looking for me…and I can’t abandon them. See ya’, ripper! An’ good luck with that curse of yours.”

He stepped off the pavilion, walked a few steps into the rain, and simply vanished.

Matt blinked, mouth flapping uselessly, and then looked at Jon, stricken with something he couldn’t quite put into words.

“It’s okay, Matt,” Jon reached out and patted his friend’s shoulder, “He’s home now.”

“Yeah, but…his home isn’t safe! It’s not—it’s not a good place to be!”

“Maybe,” Jon said gently, “But it’s his home. It’s where his family is. It’s where he belongs.”

Matt struggled with himself for a moment and then sighed, shoulders slumping, “Yeah, you’re right. I just—“

“AUSTRALIA!” Jon suddenly blurted and Matt jumped so badly he toppled backwards off the bench and landed in a heap on the pavilion floor.

Blushing, Jon hurried over to help his friend up only to yanked to the floor as well. They ended up wrestling, tumbling out into the rain and throwing mud and handfuls of grass at each other, trekking home to exasperated parents with breathless laughter.

And, because this is the way the world works when pieces fall out of alignment, they forgot.

THIS IS SO CUTE O M G G G

[noorakardemmomesaetre]

Southside High 

Chapter Six 

Or read it on Ao3

Chapter One, Two, Three, Four, Five 

Pairing: Betty Cooper x Jughead Jones 

Summary: Between what is said and not meant, and what is meant and not said, most of love is lost. -Kahlil Gibran

“-it was all the rain-“

“-and definitely the song-“

“-so many societal pressures-“

“So, it’s probably easiest if we just forget it ever happened,” Betty says quickly, biting her lip as she stares at Jughead from across her desk in the office of the Black and Gold on Wednesday afternoon.

His eyes darken as they flicker to the collar of her sweater and Betty quickly reaches up to smooth it down, ensuring it’s fully covering the deep purple fading mark he had left there.

The way he’s holding her gaze, flipping a pen anxiously between his fingers, a frown tugging at his lips, sparks a tiny hope in Betty that he’ll shake his head and say, “no, Betts, I can’t forget it ever happened. In fact, I’m in love with you. Run away with me?”

Okay, okay, so she’s a bit of a hopeless romantic. 

“You know what I hate about falling in love?” Toni snaps as she bursts through the door, effectively tearing Jughead’s eyes away from Betty as she slams into her chair and kicks her feet up on the desk, “the other person part.”

Betty raises an eyebrow, sitting down and grabbing her notebook just as Jughead offers, “Trouble in para-“

“The whole situation is just so confusing!” Toni interrupts throwing her hands up in frustration before folding her arms across her chest, “It’s like one second she’s on top of me and the next she wants to pretend like the whole thing never even happened!” 

Refusing to acknowledge the smirk that is now tugging on the corners of Jughead’s mouth, Betty opens her notes, hoping the distraction will stop the blush that is creeping onto her cheeks.

“Betty, maybe you could give me some insight here? You’re Cheryl’s best friend.”

“I wouldn’t ask Betty’s advice on this one, Topaz,” Jughead says, his smirk deepening when Betty whips her head around to glare at him, “she’s more like Cheryl than you think.”

“Am I missing somethin’ here, Jones?”

“You know what?” Betty says, her eyes narrowing at Jughead before she turns back to her notebook, “maybe if you had just called Cheryl over the weekend, or any time over the past five days, this whole situation wouldn’t be so ‘confusing.’”

“Uh, I did call Cheryl-“

“Or maybe Toni’s phone has been broken for the last three months and she hasn’t had the means to get herself a new one in order to call Cheryl,” Jughead says loudly from under his desk where he’s trying to pull out his satchel.

“Wow, what a valuable piece of information!” Betty snaps, raising her gaze to meet Jughead’s, the anger in her eyes challenging the fire in his, “if only Toni had told Cheryl that on Friday night, after she had written her number on Toni’s hand!”

“I’m sorry, what? I’ve had Cheryl’s number for a while-“

“Toni was probably a bit distracted,” Jughead cuts Toni off, leaning forward and folding his arms on the desk, “considering Cheryl had just climbed on top of her.”

“’Just climbed on top of her?’ That’s rich,” Betty says, a humorless laugh falling from her mouth as she tears her eyes away from his cocked eyebrow, “I’m pretty sure Toni’s exact words were ‘I need to be close to you...’”

“I definitely did not say that-“

Betty half expects him to blush at her use of the words he had uttered before they had fogged the windows, but he only smiles, tongue in his cheek.

“What a specific thing to remember about a night Cheryl said would be so easy to forget.” 

“Actually, I don’t feel well,” Betty says suddenly, her cheeks ablaze again as she stands, gathering her things, “I’ll see you later, Toni.” 

As the door swings shut behind her, Toni can’t fight the grin that plays on her face, biting down on a pen.

“Wow, Jones,” she says, shaking her head at her Serpent brother before playfully whispering, “I think you’re in more trouble than I am.”

Jughead moans in response, pulling his crown beanie over his face and burying it in his arms.

Betty Cooper had not heard from Jughead Jones since he had dropped her off in front of her house past her curfew on Friday night, walking her to the front door and kissing her softly before leaving.

Not a phone call, text message, email. Not even a goddamn carrier pigeon. Nothing.

Saturday had Betty’s excitement and nerves on edge, distracting herself with cleaning and other tedious tasks so as not to check her phone every five minutes.

Sunday had her less excited, but still hopeful as she waited for any word from him with bated breath. Weekends are busy for everyone, she had thought, shaking off her impending anxiety, he’s probably really busy.

Monday had Betty going over every moment from Friday night where she could’ve possibly messed this whole thing with Jughead up, her eyes searching every face in the hallway at school for that signature smirk and crown beanie.

Tuesday had Betty pissed.

Which brings us to the present, where Betty is currently throwing her laundry around her bedroom in an effort to find her running sneakers. She’s grateful Hal and Alice are working late tonight because she’s definitely not in the mood to explain her…mood.

Tossing on her sneakers and shoving her headphones in, she heads out for a jog to clear her mind, the first song from her “positive and uplifting” playlist filling her ears.

But she doesn’t get more than a block away before her mind drifts back to the events of Friday night. 

“Tell me something,” she whispers, pulling away from his kiss to smile at him, needing to calm herself down a bit, “I feel like I don’t know anything about you.”

His thumbs are rubbing small, caring circles on her inner thighs sending a chill down Betty’s spine, goosebumps appearing on her skin. He tilts his head back and smiles gently, before sighing.

“I have a little sister named Jellybean,” he offers softly, searching her eyes for a reaction, “probably one of the only people that matters to me.”

“What about your parents?”

The pain that flashes across his eyes is brief, but Betty sees it. Her fingers massage the back of his neck affectionately and he places a soft kiss to her lips before continuing.

“My mom left with JB a few years ago, my dad runs the Serpents,” he shrugs as if the tragic story of his childhood is insignificant, but his fingers are gripping her thighs just a little bit tighter.

Betty presses a soft kiss against his forehead, wanting to express how much she cares without saying anything. He takes her mouth again, their lips meeting in a more slow and sensual embrace.

“That’s what you get when you let your heart win!” Paramore blasts through Betty’s headphones, her “positive and uplifting” playlist quickly forgotten when she realized this run was anything but.

 She’s panting, her legs propelling her forward at a much faster pace than she normally jogs this route, the need to run away from the memories that cloud her mind almost unbearable.

“Now you tell me something I don’t know, Betts,” Jughead says against her neck, his teeth sinking into the skin and then soothing it with his tongue before he pulls back to look at her.

Her body is pressed flush against his now, his thumbs higher on her inner thighs than before, those soothing circles he’s rubbing driving her mad. But she blinks, collecting herself as she thinks of what to tell him. 

“I love writing,” she whispers, “but honestly Jug, I love working on cars more.”

He seems surprised by this, a grin replacing his soft smile, “that’s pretty fucking cool.”

She giggles as he kisses her again and then pulls away, “don’t the Serpents have a pretty good shop in Southside?”

His eyes darken at her mention of the Serpents, and he bites his lip before sighing, “don’t worry about what the Serpents have, Betty. I don’t want you mixed up in that.”

Betty stops running, feeling as though she can’t breathe as she places her hand against a tree, gripping it for stability.

He had kissed her fiercely then and she’d been too distracted to continue the conversation, his tongue sliding against hers, her fingers wrapped tightly in his hair. She pulled herself up and settled back down against his suit-covered arousal, eliciting a soft growl from him as his fingers dug into her thighs.

“But you’re a Serpent, you don’t want me to be mixed up with you?” 

He pulls away from her then, his breathing uneven as he takes in the sight of this beautiful girl from the Northside, a girl he’d never thought would even glance his way. 

“It doesn’t scare you?” he murmurs, lifting his fingers up to brush back the hair that had fallen into her eyes, “what I am?”

She’d kissed him then, deeply and passionately, but had said nothing in response, still a little unsure about how his gang member lifestyle made her feel.  

Betty feels the hot tears rolling down her cheeks and groans, looking up at the sky to blink them back as she catches her breath. It doesn’t take long for her to pull out her phone and dial the one person she knows will make her forget this.

“B! Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Hey V,” Betty sighs into her phone, “I need to call an SOS girls night this weekend.”

“Oooh, babe,” Veronica says, the sound of glasses being moved about echoing through the phone, “you’re just in luck! Cheryl called for one of those 10 minutes ago and Daddy’s taking Mom to the city for the weekend.”

Friday night cannot come fast enough for Betty and she soon finds herself in her comfiest pajamas laying on Veronica’s couch, a second glass of red wine gripped tightly in her hand. She checks her phone for any messages from her mother, but seeing no new messages she lets it rest forgotten, atop the blanket that engulfs her. 

“Maybe I’m just scared,” Cheryl sighs, sipping her own glass of wine as Veronica and Kevin sit next to her, eagerly listening to her talk about her problems with Toni, “she’s perfect for me. But commitment? I can’t even commit to a nail salon.” 

Veronica shares a look with Betty before Kevin claps his hands, shaking his head, “Cher, she is perfect for you! You just need to quit being a coward and fight for your woman! It’s not every day that someone drenches your locker in red rose petals.” 

Cheryl stares down at her wine, swirling it around her glass before she sighs, “I do want to call her…I miss her…”

Veronica gives her a subtle push, “then do it!”

“Fine…”

She sets her glass down and stands, wobbling slightly before she grips her phone and heads to the balcony, her satin red robe flowing lightly behind her.

“Okay!” Veronica says, turning to face Kevin and Betty, “let’s play a game! We need to lighten the mood around here; this girls’ night is totally dismal.”

“Can we not call it a girls’ night? Hello?” Kevin says, motioning down his clearly male form. 

Betty smiles, shaking her head at her friend, “sorry, Kev, you’ve been overruled.”

He rolls his eyes, grinning at a finally smiling Betty.

“Let’s play Marry, Fuck, Kill,” Veronica grins at them, sitting back on her knees and taking a long sip of her wine.

“Oooh yes!” Kevin laughs, looking excitedly at Veronica. 

“Kev, you first! The three Chris’s: Hemsworth, Evans, and Pratt.”

Kevin pretends to think about it for a second as Betty bites her lip, already knowing who he’s going to marry. Betty takes another sip of her wine, feeling a warm coziness settling over her body. She’s barely given any thought to the brooding gang member of her past. 

Kevin continues pretending this is such a hard choice while Betty winces. Her past. She didn’t want him to be a part of her past, but clearly he did.

Alright, so she’s thought about him. 

“I’ve got it! Marry Evans because he’s a total sweetheart, Fuck Hemsworth because..that hammer,” he giggles, wiggling his eyebrows at Veronica who breaks into her own fit of laughter, “and…ah…I don’t want to kill Pratt! He’s just as hot and adorable!” 

Veronica clucks her tongue, shaking her head disapprovingly, “you’ve got to do it! That’s the rules!”

Kevin sighs, “can’t I just kill him...by giving him that good dick?”

Betty and Veronica burst into laughter, Betty turning to hide her face in the couch pillow without spilling her wine. 

“Ohmygosh, fine Kevin!” Veronica finally says, catching her breath “Betty’s turn! Cole Sprouse, Miles Teller, and Donald Glover.”

The red wine coursing through her veins gives her the confidence to say, “too easy, V! Marry Sprouse, Fuck Glover, and kill Teller. Although, that would be sad.” 

Kevin and Veronica giggle and nod in agreement as they hear Cheryl’s light laughter flowing from the balcony, the signal of a phone call with Toni going well.

“Okay, V! It’s on you now,” Betty says as her and Kevin share a look, trying to speak telepathically about which males they want to offer her for the game.

She almost misses the vibration from her phone, her eyes tearing from Kevin to glance irritably at the Unknown Number. She puts her phone back down, nodding excitedly as Kevin mouths, “Denzel Washington.” 

“B? Aren’t you going to answer that?” Veronica says, leaning forward and motioning to Betty’s buzzing phone. 

“I don’t recognize the number, it’s probably a telemarketer,” she says, taking another sip of her wine before shaking her head at Kevin’s suggested “Michael Cera.” 

“What? Answer it Betty, it’s almost midnight, it could be an emergency!”

 Betty rolls her eyes before begrudgingly sliding the phone to accept the call, “hi, this is Betty.” 

“Hey Betts,” a familiar, tired voice pours through the phone, “it’s Jughead.”

hi lovelies, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! As always, hearing your thoughts makes me so happy so leave them if you'd like! ❤

I'm thinking we'll get a bit of Jughead's point of view next chapter...

[nightships]

Wolf Like Me, chapter two

(I’m back! With a fic nobody asked for. This is a continuation of my werewolf au fic, set vaguely - like canon OUAT timelines - after the first chapter and written lovingly in yet another trade with my favorite person, @evil--isnt--born. Read it on AO3 here. Enjoy!)

The woods of Maine are restless tonight. Sharp tree limbs hiss and creak as the wind tangles them together, intent on plucking the few remaining leaves from their branches. Killian’s breath curls away to the north as it shifts, but that’s not what has his hair standing on end. He focuses his sight and stills where he stands, waiting to recognize the scent of someone new as a beam of light cuts through the forest.

A pair of lost hikers had earned a spot on the evening news last week for a backpacking trip that almost turned fatal. They’d gotten dangerously close to the cliffside because of the cloud cover, and only a faint glimpse of moonlight had steered them back toward safety. It’d been near-dawn when they stumbled onto the roadside, blue-tinged and dehydrated, and the reporter had spent a full two minutes regaling the city with safety tips for traveling in cold weather. Whoever’s joining him in this part of the forest clearly missed the broadcast.

Killian turns to head back the way he’d come, intent on avoiding company, but an acrid, leathery smell washes across the misty glade, one a gale couldn’t hope to stifle. He stiffens as the flashlight beam falls on his face, intentionally obscuring his view.

“Are you aware you’re trespassing on private park land, Mr. Jones?” The voice of Robert Gold calls clearly over the wind, announcing his presence as if he’s expecting a crowd. The light’s still in his eyes, but there’s no mistaking its glimmer in the oily crocodile skin of his boots.

Killian doesn’t reply, but Gold seems more than happy to carry on conversation with him despite the blistering cold of the wind.

“Nothing to say? Then I suppose you won’t mind lending me your ear a moment. Last week, I overheard Sidney Glass refer to Miss Swan as a bitch for refusing to provide a quote on behalf of the police. I’m sure you can imagine my surprise when I discovered that she actually is one.”

A beat passes between them. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, but I’m certain that you do. You forget that I’ve made quite the study of your kind. I know that you can smell it on each other after the full moon.” He smirks, moving in closer still, like he has all the time in the world.

“Could you smell it when you first met her?” He asks softly, gentle as a lover’s whisper. "Is that why you’ve come tonight? To teach her the route you think you’ve made impossible to track? To keep her safe?”

Another two feet and he could press the barrel of his gun to Killian’s chest if he wanted to, but Gold is in no rush to stop the theatrics now that he’s caught him alone. The twist in his voice is all but overflowing with mirth, proud to see that Killian can barely control his anger.

“Consider this a warning to you and your new friend,” Gold says knowingly, angling his light up so both of them can see each other. Gone is the playful, simpering voice he’d used before. A human heart beats inside his chest, Killian can hear it, but a predator stands before him.

“Take care to watch your step the next time you choose to go wandering through the woods. The sheriff might lose more than just her shining reputation...” he kicks his boot out suddenly, inches from Killian’s foot, and reveals a waiting coyote trap. It’s obvious that there are more where it came from, that he’s here for more than conversation.  

Killian lurches forward, but a shot rips through his side before he can fully shift. It’s too hot to be a regular bullet, searing his flesh on impact. He lunges in the direction of Gold and his rifle, intent on causing the coward an ounce of the pain he’s inflicted. Dark, primal satisfaction rushes through him as he tears through Gold’s cheek, working to keep his claws embedded in the flesh.

An angry cry rips out of him, but not because of the pain. He’s fired another shot, missing Killian and hitting a nearby tree instead. The branch it strikes cracks on impact, swaying heavily under its own weight before snapping free and tumbling down to them. Killian grabs a fistful of Gold’s jacket and blindly shoves him toward it. The coyote trap snaps as Gold’s rifle falls on its plate, snuffing out the light in a single bite.

But when the leaves and branches stop shaking, he’s giggling, almost triumphant. Killian falters as he looks at the trap and Gold again, suddenly seeing what he couldn’t see before.

Emma.

He doesn’t hesitate as he turns away. There’s a price to pay for what he’s done,  but right now he doesn’t care. He lets his wolf take over entirely, working to outrun the sound of Gold’s laughter and the smell of his blood on the wind. 

Rain rolls in over the fog, pushing his senses into overdrive. Killian curses to himself as he runs, feet barely touching the ground for how fast he’s moving. He’s covered miles of the forest in search of her with nothing but memory to guide him, and now the storm’s made even that unusable. He can’t stand it, this blindness that’s been forced upon him.

And Emma...he has to stop himself from imagining the effect it has on her.

Lightning cracks dangerously close to the treetops, enough that he smells the electric heat of it carving through the wood before it even falls. If it weren’t for the rain the whole thing would ignite, but it only topples to the ground. His side burns as the forest floor shakes, and for a second he can almost hear Gold laughing again.

He runs faster.

Traffic lights and cars from the city proper paint the clouds pale orange as he skims the mountainside. Something deep in him, something he hasn’t felt in well over a decade, knows she’s not down there. His wolf can feel it like the chill seeping into his bones, but the human side of him can only focus on all of the places she isn’t.

He forces himself to go home, to see if calling her will elicit a response. He’d requested she keep her GPS settings on for night runs, and outright demanded she start charging her phone above forty percent after nearly losing her during last month’s full moon. She’d promptly told him she wasn’t a child in need of looking after, her green eyes challenging him to say otherwise.

It was terrifying, not being alone, but most nights Emma scared him more.

He’s moving through the last of the trees when he sees a light turn on upstairs. It’s the lamp in his bedroom; he knows it just by the stuttering flicker of the bulb, but relief doesn’t come like he thinks it will. He feels fire in his blood instead.

It takes effort to take the porch steps on two feet instead of four, to keep from tearing the door off its frame, to leave the banister free of claw marks. He manages to get as far as the bedroom without saying a word, and it’s just as well, because he can hear the shower running. With nowhere for his anger to go, he paces through the house, locking every door and closing every set of blinds until he’s back in his bedroom again. He’s just crossing the threshold when the bathroom door opens. Steam billows out, revealing Emma.

“Don’t worry,” she tells him offhandedly, focused on toweling her hair dry. “I left you some hot water.” His lack of a response catches her attention, and her eyes widen when she takes him in. “What’s wrong?”

“Where in the hell were you?”

Emma drops the towel, noticing the bloodstained gash in his shirt. “What?” She repeats. “I was out running with you. What happened?”

“Gold was out setting traps for me...for us,” he emphasizes, pacing closer. He can smell his soap on her skin. The two scents are staggering compared to the way the rain muted the forest. “He must have seen you.”

“I didn’t see anybody! No one’s out in the forest this late except us.”

“I must have dreamt him shooting me in the side, then,” he answers, twisting savagely toward her so she can see it for herself. It’s healing, but slowly, a mark of the wolfsbane that had skated across his ribs. She reaches out as he draws her eyes to it, slowly moving toward him.

“That needs attention.”

“It can wait until you bloody well tell me where you’ve been,” Killian snaps, ducking away from her fingertips. He braces at the searing pain the motion brings, gritting his teeth and bringing his voice down low. “He knows about you.”

“He’s bluffing,” she tells him flatly. “You’re the only person I’ve seen all night. I didn’t see any traps, and I didn’t see Gold. You need to calm down. Nothing happened.”

He laughs humorlessly. “Have you ever been shot at?”

“I’m the sheriff. Of course I’ve been-”

“Not like this,” he interrupts, pacing back in front of her. He towers over Emma, incensed by the affronted look in her eyes. “This isn’t some carjacker looking for a way out of an arrest. Gold is a hunter. He’s known about me, and now he knows about you.”

“He can’t prove it,” she insists. Uncertainty is hovering in her voice, just audible behind her usual brand of stubbornness, but he hears it regardless.

“Proof’s not going to matter when it’s you he’s found in the middle of the bleeding woods,” he snarls. “Don’t stand there and tell me that nothing happened when he’s out setting traps.”

“I know how to handle myself,” she hisses, a harsh reminder of the past she has yet to explain.

“It could have been you.“

The words billow up from his lungs in a single breath, uncontrollable and fiery, because he can’t think of another way to make her understand. “It could have been you he ran into, and I wouldn’t have had a goddamn idea until it was too late.”

“But it wasn’t!” She grabs for his hand, forcing his fingers around her wrist. Emma holds it aloft between them, forcing him to acknowledge the feel of her pulse under her skin. Her eyes are bright from the shower and their argument, and they’re searing into his, trying to figure out why he’s pushing this point so hard.

Then a charge passes between them. Sudden understanding washes over her, and she loosens her grip.

“It wasn’t me, Killian. I’m right here.”

His fingers dive into her hair as he tugs her forward, catching her waist with his other arm to stop her stumbling backward from the force of the kiss. She trips in the towel on the floor anyway and her arm flies up to his side to steady them, accidentally pressing into his wound. Killian winces at the pain, but he shakes his head before she can pull away to apologize. Right now he needs to breathe her in, to abandon the scent of the rain and Gold with the scent of her alive, safe in his arms.

Emma is still warm from her shower, almost hot compared to the rain dripping out of his own hair. His senses are on overload with her this close, unable to settle on any one sensation radiating out from her touch. After searching for so long in the dark, he’s fully intent on memorizing her.

She brings her hands up to his shoulders, tilting her head to the side to guide him closer as his fingers weave into her hair. He chases right after her, fiercely sliding his mouth over hers, but relief pours from every inch of him she traces over. Emma works the fervor out of his skin as she slides her hand up the columns of his spine, reminding him that she’s not the one he’s angry with. When he finally manages to drag his lips from hers, he’s panting, shuddering as she coaxes calm back into him.

She’s waiting for him to look at her, stubborn even when he does meet her gaze, but it’s not just attention she wants. It’s permission, oddly enough. He doesn’t say anything and she moves, intent on the mark Gold left behind. Her pulse hitches when her fingers slip under his shirt, skimming the gash that still hasn’t quite knit itself back together, and his own stutters when she settles her hand over his heart.

“I’m not used to this,” she murmurs, her voice almost lost to the rainfall on the roof. “People don’t worry about me.”

“First time for everything,” he manages, the faintest shadow of a smile in his voice.

He does let her tend to his wound, but by then her hair is dry.  

“I know you’re capable,” he tells her later, leaning against the bathroom sink. She’s just tossed the last of the dirty cotton balls into the trash, ridding them of the evidence he was shot to begin with. “I shouldn’t have questioned that. I’m sorry.”

She nods as she hands him a clean shirt, accepting his apology, as well as the knowledge that she matters so much to someone else. To him. It’s no small thing, her recognition. Emma seems to realize it when he does.

“I worry too.” she confesses, glancing down at his side. “About you. I’m not used to that either.”

He wants to tell her that he understands, or that he used to, but that’s a story for another night. He’s not here to guilt her into shutting herself away the way he did in the years before they crossed paths. He’s content with tucking her hair behind her ear, with tracing the constellations of freckles that dance across her cheeks, with stepping away from the counter and reaching for the hand that’s just cleaned Gold’s blood from beneath his fingernails.

Emma follows him across the mattress like she knows he needs to touch her, like she can tell he’s trying to forget what he left in the forest. Just like before, she snakes her hand beneath his shirt to press her palm to his heart, steadying its rhythm on contact. It’s a reminder of what he has yet to lose - all he has lost - but her voice pulls him back.

“Try to sleep,” she whispers, eyes already closed.

With her breath falling softly across his collarbone and her hair tickling his chin, he does.

[anxioustealnotebook-blog]

{A Night You’ll Never Remember} Steve Harrington||Soulmate AU

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Reader 

Summary: Soulmate AU where you can't see colour until you kiss your soulmate for the first time. Reader wakes up the morning after a party and realizes she can see colour. The only problem is she can't seem to remember who she kissed. Oops. 

Warning: None except some swearing. 

A/N: Finally finished my first one shot for Tumblr. It took longer than expected. 

Needless to say, you had heard the story of how your parents had found each other a million times. 

They had both just turned eighteen and were at their local dance hall. They both went to the same school, but neither of them had ever talked to one another. But on that night, your father was feeling brave and decided to tap your mother on the shoulder and ask her to dance. Your mother, also feeling brave, said yes and they stayed together for the rest of the night. Both of them knew they were meant for each other. At the end of the night your father finally worked up enough courage and kissed your mother. According to your mother, she felt a tingling feeling on her lips that she still remembers to this day. After the kiss, they pulled away and saw the world light up with colour. 

"It's the most amazing feeling in the world, kissing you soulmate for your first time," your mother would always finish. 

Unsurprisingly, your brother and sister lapped up the story every time, and so did you, in the beginning. 

It was a simple, romantic story and you were happy for your parents. But you knew about fifteen other kids your age who's parents had the exact same story. You wanted something more exciting. 

When you could finally see colour, it had to be special. 

                                                           * * * 

 "Why...?" You groaned into your pillow. You had only been awake for a few moments and you hadn't even taken taken your head off the pillow yet, but you could already feel a headache coming on. 

It wasn't surprising really, you had a tendency to go a tiny bit overboard with the alcohol at parties. You would think only being able to see in black, grey and white would help the situation, but you were certain that your curtains were probably wide open. Drunk-you never gave any real thought to small unimportant things like that. With your luck it would probably be a 'lovely' sunny day that would cause your head to hurt even more. 

 You groaned again and rolled onto your side, as 'trying to get back to sleep with face engulfed by pillow' was not the way to go. You pulled the duvet to eye level in the hope of falling asleep again. 

This was the plan for about a second, until you opened your eyes to check the time and you realized something was very off about your duvet. There was no way you were seeing what you thought you were seeing. You had to be dreaming. You blinked a few time, but it was still there. The duvet wasn't it's usual dull grey! It took a minute of just staring at the new exciting colour for your brain to wake up and catch on to what was actually going on. 

"Blue!" You gasped, reading the small word sewn into the top right corner of the duvet. Sitting upright, you did your best to ignore the dizziness and blinding bright sunshine coming from your window. Instead you focused on the room around you. You felt like a kid in a candy store as you stared in awe at the strange but beautiful new colours surrounding you. 

 Despite the fuzz clouding your thoughts, you recalled the colours your parents had described to you and you whispered each of them. 

 After that, you got out of bed and ventured over to the window. A shriek of excitement escaped your lips. The view from your bedroom window looked so much more special. You gripped the windowsill tightly, silently hoping it wouldn't melt away with the rest of the colour and you wouldn't end up waking up to find it was all a dream. 

 Thankfully, it didn't. 

Next, you ran back across your room to pick up the phone and immediately dial your best friend's number. She was definitely still asleep and probably hungover too, but whatever. 

"Grace! You won't believe what just happened!" You exclaimed excitedly. 

"W...what?" Grace asked groggily. You didn't miss the annoyance in her voice either. 

"I can see COLOUR! Actual colour. Like not black or grey or whatever-" you were beginning to ramble. Thankfully Grace had the good grace to cut you off. 

"Wow...that's cool. Are they as amazing as people say?" 

"Yes!" you seemed to have forgotten about the hangover. I think blue is my favourite, or maybe green. Oh you should see red. Blue and pink look so pretty together-" 

"No! I mean how was the kiss? Who's the lucky guy? I seem to remember you disappearing halfway through the party and you didn't show up till the end. I definitely don't remember you meeting your soulmate..." Grace was going off into her own tangent. 

Meanwhile you felt yourself sinking back into reality. You recalled dancing with Grace and some of your other friends and bright flashing lights and alcohol (lots of alcohol). You briefly remembered a tingly feeling on your lips (which must have been the kiss). But no soulmate. 

"Oh fuck, I don't know," realization dawned on you like a brick wall. 

                                                       * * * 

It was Monday afternoon and you were sitting in history with Grace by your side. 

The whole day had just dragged by mercilessly. Every damn moment was spent analyzing everything you could piece together from the party and looking from left to right in search of someone who stood out. Or someone who might be staring at you from the corner of their eye. 

No luck so far. 

It didn't help that you were still getting used to the colours around you. They were distracting and you felt they were beginning to taunt you, the way they could make anyone stand out or hide in the crowd.

Someone else who was not helping was Grace. She had made it her mission to find your soulmate. In fact you were convinced she was a pen and paper away from putting up a 'missing person's sign' up on the notice board asking anyone with information to come forward. 

 All day she was pointing at people and asking if you felt any attraction towards them. The answer was always no. 

"Are you sure you don't remember anything else?" She leaned over and whispered in your ear when the teacher's back was turned. 

"Yes!" You whisper shouted. 

"Oh what if its Billy Hargrove? He was at the party, wasn't he? Plus he's kind of cute." 

"You're not serious are you? I wouldn't go near Billy with a steel pole," you hissed at Grace who was trying her best to bite back a laugh. 

"I was joking." 

"Seriously, the day that Billy is my soulmate is the day that the universe has truly given up," you rolled your eyes, "did you even see what he did to Steve Harrington the other day? He is not a good guy." 

You went back to trying to concentrate on what the teacher was saying, before glancing one more time at Grace who looked like she had just gotten an idea. You wanted to ask her what it was but it would have to wait because the teacher was glaring at the both of you. 

                                                        * * * 

You sighed loudly from the safety of the school door. Of course Grace had to bring her little brother to soccer practice on the other side of Hawkins. She was your ride home that evening as your car was non-existent. She just drove off. All of your other friends were nowhere to be found. 

You honestly wouldn't mind as much as you did if it wasn't pouring rain. After kicking the school wall for good luck (definitely not out of spite), you set off down the road as fast as you could. 

The horrible weather seemed to drag up feelings of hopelessness within you. You would never find your soulmate at this rate. Whatever you had drunk had drowned your chances of ever finding your soulmate. And while you did believe that a person could lead a perfectly happy and fulfilling life without a soulmate or a partner of any kind, you did feel pretty bad about the whole situation. There would be no great exciting story to tell. Just a wistful tale of what could have been. 

Lost in thought, you barely noticed the rumble of a car pulling up next to you. However, the loud beep of a car horn did catch your attention. Startled, you turned and peered through the fogged up car window. Steve Harrington of all people stared back at you. 

"You want a ride home?" He smiled sheepishly as he rolled down the window. Not giving it a second thought you nodded enthusiastically and jumped in. The instant warmth was more than welcoming. 

"Uh...hey Steve," you gave him a small smile, which he returned.

Now settled, you realized you hadn't actually talked to Steve in a very long time. You used to be good friends when you were younger and you even had a small crush on him. But didn't everyone? 

These days you didn't have much to do with him, which was fine. But while the minutes ticked by you really wished you could find something to say that would break the awkward silence.  

"Do you know where I live?" you questioned him 

"Yeah Grace told me-" you quickly looked at him, confused. When had he been talking to Grace? Had you heard that right? 

Now that you were facing him, you realized how nervous he looked. His eyes were glued to the road in front of him and his hands were clamped tightly to the steering wheel. 

"Are...you alright Steve?" You asked, slightly worried. 

"Um...yeah, kind of. I need to talk to you about something important." 

"Okay?" In response he pulled the car over to the side of the road. You were more confused than ever. He was still staring at the road, not saying anything. 

"Steve this is weird. I'm grateful for the ride home, but-?" You stared at him expectantly and he finally turned to face you. You gasped as you realized his eyes were brown and not grey. People who had found their soulmate didn't have grey eyes. You were sure Grace had told you that Nancy wasn't Steve's soulmate though. And to your knowledge, he wasn't with anyone at the moment. 

"Oh...I forgot about the eye thing. Yours are really pretty by the way. This probably gives the game away, huh?" 

"What game?" 

Steve was the one looking expectantly at you now. You were obviously missing something huge. But the way Steve was staring at you and when had his face gotten so close to yours? What were you missing? 

"I'm you soulmate," the sheepish smile was back. 

Your jaw dropped at your own stupidity. It was all very painfully obvious. 

"Oh, wow," you muttered, at a loss for words, "um...are you sure?" 

"Yes Y/N I'm very sure," he finally relaxed and gave you a much more Steve-like grin, "I was going to talk to you today about it but then I overheard someone say that you couldn't remember who your soulmate was and I got worried that maybe you just didn't want me to be your soulmate." 

"What no," you shook your head, "of course not. I honestly couldn't remember half of what happened at that party." 

"Oh I know because later Grace, your friend, came running up to me and told me everything. And I mean everything. She set this up and all." 

"Of course she did," you rolled your eyes. No wonder she had that look on her face during history. 

"Do you remember anything now?" "No, sorry, but I don't think that matters now anyway. But...I do need you to prove to me you're not lying to me." 

"How-" You cut him off by closing the gap between the two of you. You kissed him softly. And he kissed back. The sound of the rain hitting the car was drowned out by the familiar warm electric feeling you were beginning to feel on your lips. 

 After a minute you pulled back and grinned. 

"So does that prove I'm not lying to you?" Steve grinned knowingly. 

"Yes Steve Harrington. I think I can safely say you are my soulmate." 

 "Finally," he rolled his eyes and kissed you again.