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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 4 years ago

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Curiosity Killed The Cat | Owen Patrick Joyner

Requested: Yes/No

Hi! I was wondering if you can do an Owen imagine kinda based off his Instagram story of him finding a cat. I was thinking he’d actually find the missing cat though and come ring your doorbell at 4am bc he’s chaotic. You can decide everything. Thank you in advance!!!

A/N: The cat doesn’t actually die in this, it’s just a saying that i liked for the title, so don’t worry! It’s got a happy ending!

Pairing: Owen x Fem!Reader

Song(s) used: none

Warnings: none

Words: 3,949

A week. It had been exactly one week since y/n last saw her cat, Tunabean. The white, grey striped Ragamuffin cat had been absent from y/n’s apartment for way longer than she normally would be and it worried y/n to the point where she’d be out looking for the little rascal every night after work.

“Found her yet?” Jamila asked as she entered y/n’s apartment after coming home from work.

Jamila was y/n’s roommate and best friend since college. The two had lived together through their college career and decided to be roommates after too, as long as neither had significant others to go live with.

“No,” y/n’s lip stuck out into a pout as she feverishly reposted the message on all her social media platforms. “People have been tearing down my posters as well. Did you see the ones near Andrews Park? They were torn to shreds!”

Jamila pulled her lips into a tight smile before putting her bags on the dining room table and joining y/n on the couch. “Yeah, I saw. I’m really sorry, y/n. If you want, we can go and put up some more posters? Exchange the torn up ones with some fresh ones?”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course! Sweetie, I’d do anything to get little Bean home, you know that, right?” y/n nodded her head in response, though she wasn’t sure if she knew that.

Jamila wasn’t the biggest fan of Tunabean at first. She hated cats. Growing up, she’d always had a dog but never a cat. She didn’t trust the little rascals for one second. So, when y/n showed up with little Tunabean after having had what felt like the worst week of her life, Jamila was a tiny bit angry. But eventually warmed up to Tunabean when the little kitty seemed so placid, you could easily cuddle up to it on the sofa.

“Let’s go find Zach at his work, bribe him to print me more posters for cheap, hang ‘em up around town and then maybe Tino’s?” Jamila’s eyes lit up at the mention of her favorite restaurant.

She snapped her fingers and pointed finger guns at her best friend. “Sounds like a plan!” she said and wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck. It was a cold November day and no person could leave their house consciously without being bundled up into layers and layers of clothing.

“I hope Bean didn’t hide under a car and the owner didn’t tap the hood before getting in…” y/n muttered, her voice thick with worry, as they exited the apartment building and stepped into the blistering cold.

“I’m sure she just found a few boyfriends and is spending her time with them,” Jamila tried to reassure her, but knew all-too-well that Tunabean wouldn’t stay away this long, even if she had a lover cat to make little kittens with. She loved Jamila and y/n’s home too much.

“Are you slut shaming my cat right now?”

“Our cat,” Jamila corrected, causing a smile to find its way to y/n’s face, “And no, I am not. I’m just trying to be optimistic here, y/n.” Jamila tucked her cold hands into the pockets of her tan peacoat. “I’m sure Tunabean is alright.”

“What if she isn’t though? What if she’s like meowing somewhere in the middle of Norman and no one to hear her pleas?” Jamila rolled her eyes at how dramatic her best friend was being.

“Norman ain’t that big, sweetie. I’m sure if she’s meowing somewhere, we would’ve heard her already.”

“Exactly! Which means she’s either dead or god knows anywhere! She could be in Oklahoma City! We don’t know that!” y/n exclaimed loudly, using excessive hand gestures more so to keep herself warm than emphasis.

Jamila stopped in her tracks and grabbed y/n by the shoulders, stopping her too. “Stop being such a drama queen, y/n! I’m sure Tunabean is fine. Maybe she’s on an adventure or making new friends, you don’t know that!”

“You don’t care about our child, admit it,” y/n muttered. This rendered Jamila silent. “Admit you don’t care about our child, Jam!” Passer-byers shot them a weirded out glare, which Jamila sent right back.

“Oh, please! Don’t pretend there are no lesbian families in Norman too!” she yelled at them. The comical side of the whole situation made y/n laugh a tiny bit. “There’s that smile I like to see.” Jamila softly touched y/n’s chin with her knuckle before grabbing the girl’s hand in hers. The warmth of Jamila’s hand radiating through to y/n’s made her feel all toasty. “Let’s go print some posters!”

The girls reached a one-storey building with red decrepit letters stuck to the roof.

HOOPER PRINTING CO.

As y/n opened the glass door and held it for Jamila to walk in, the smell of ink reached her nostrils. Though not a very traditional scent to love, it reminded y/n of one of her best friends. It was like her brain just knew that the muscles in her cheeks would soon start to hurt thanks to Zachary. A boy the girls had met in college as Xana.

Jamila spotted the bleached blonde mop of hair immediately and signaled to y/n to sneak up to him. On their tippy toes, the two approached the tall slender man, and when they were close enough, they took in a deep breath and-- “Don’t even think about it,” Zach mumbled without even looking at them.

Jamila and y/n glanced at each other, cheeks puffed out from the breath they were holding. “How’d you--?” y/n didn’t even finish her sentence as she looked past Zach and her eyes landed on a tiny tv screen. Cameras, of course.

“Since when do you have security cameras?” y/n asked as she hopped onto the counter Zach was sorting invoices on.

He shrugged, “Sometime this week, I think.” His bright blue eyes met y/n’s as she sheepishly looked at him while kicking her legs. The boy sighed exasperated, knowing all too well what the girls are here for. “No. Not again.”

“Please, Zachy! Tunabean is still missing and her posters have been ripped down!” Her eyes teared up at the thought of her kitty being out there all by herself in Norman. All she could hope was that the creepy dudes from Doyle’s didn’t get their filthy paws on her little princess.

“Come on, Zach. You love that cat too!” Jamila chimed in, crossing her arms across her chest and glaring at him knowingly.

“Fine, come here,” he reached out his hand and y/n handed him the thumb drive on which she kept her self-made posters. “You’re gonna have to buy me Tino’s though.”

“We were going there afterwards, if you wanna join?” y/n’s voice was teasing and sly.

“I’m off at five,” he simply stated before pressing a few buttons on his desktop and waking up the printer closest to them. “How long has she been gone for?” he then asked after a few beats of silence. Y/N dropped her head and stared at her still moving legs for a moment.

“About a week,” she replied.

Zach pulled his lips into a tight smile. He reached his hand out and placed it gently on top of hers. “She’ll come back.”

“How can you be so sure? She might be hurt somewhere or dead and I won’t even know. I won’t even be able to say goodbye to her.” Tears pooled in y/n’s eyes as she thought of the sweet little kitten she had found in a ‘take one for free’ box on a curb one day. She was the last one left.

“I’m not sure, y/n. But I’d like to be optimistic. Besides, Tunabean is resilient and the most independent kitty I’ve ever known. She’ll survive. She’s probably out adventuring with some friends.”

Though the words weren’t very reassuring and y/n knew she had every right to be worried, they did calm her down a little. Tunabean was resilient and extremely independent. She’ll find her way back home.

“I’ll see you guys later, bye!” Owen waved at his friends as he stepped into the cold November night. It was 4 am and he was just returning home from a day spent with friends. He had fallen asleep during the movie, only waking up in the middle of the night, realizing his parents were probably worrying about him, seeing he’d told them he’d be home by midnight at the latest.

He softly hummed along to the song that was playing in his head as he walked down West Main Street, his hands tucked deep into his pockets to try and keep them warm. He should’ve brought a thicker coat or a thicker jumper.

“Ah, mister Joyner!” a familiar voice with a thick accent made him shake out of his train of thought about the cold. The friendly face of the robust Italian greeted him in the dim light of the restaurant behind him.

“Still working, Tino?” Owen asked as he stopped in his tracks to talk to the man everyone in Norman, Oklahoma loved.

“Already back at work, ragazzino!” he replied in his thick Italian accent. Owen always thought it was fake and just for show to lure clients, so that they knew he was a pure Italian man, sharing his love for the Italian cuisine in his restaurant.

“At four in the morning?!” Owen exclaimed, stunned at the man’s determination for his job.

“Deliveries don’t wait, signore.” His laugh boomed into the empty, dark streets of Norman. Owen couldn’t help but let out a laugh too while his eyes averted and landed on a poster in the window. A black-and-white picture of a small cat stared back at him.

MISSING: TUNABEAN

Grey-and-white striped ragamuffin cat, listens to the name Tunabean.

“She’s been missing for a week, the poor girl who owns her is worried sick,” Tino told Owen when he noticed what he was looking at. The blond twenty-year-old pressed his lips together. He only ever had a dog that had never run away, but he could imagine what it would be like to not know where your pet is. He would totally lose it if Bindi ever went missing.

“I feel sorry for her,” Owen said, unsure of anything else to say.

“Yeah, me too,” said Tino. “Keep an eye out for Tunabean, yeah?”

“I will.”

And with that, Owen continued his walk back home. The cat on the poster kept haunting his mind. Those big eyes were something he wouldn’t forget anytime soon. Thanks to said image plastered in his brain, he even started hearing meowing when he got to Andrews Park. It was a soft, fragile meow that had to echo through his brain for a few seconds before he realized it actually came from the bushes he was walking past as he passed through Andrews Park.

Curiously, and kind of feverishly, Owen started to dig into the shrubbery until he found a tiny cat. “Oh, don’t worry, little one. I got you.” He said as he carefully detangled it from the branches. As he held it up to his face, he found the big, round eyes from the poster staring back at him in real life. “Tunabean?” he cooed, and the cat tilted its head ever so slightly.

He stroked the cat’s head and scratched behind her ear before pulling it closer into his chest. She was shivering, but Owen wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or the fear. If she’d been missing for a week, God knows how long she must’ve been stuck in there.

“You hurt, little one?” he mumbled to it as he absentmindedly made his way to the one person he knew could help.

“Owen,” Emmy groaned when she’d opened the door to find him standing on the curb with a pout on his face. “It’s four in the morning, I have to be up in an hour for work.”

“That’s why I’m here,” he said and showed her the cat he had tucked in his jacket to keep it warm. “I found her in the bushes near Andrews Park. Can you check if she’s okay?” Emmy’s eyes darted from the cat to Owen and back. “Please, Emmy? You’re the only one I know could help her out.”

“Come on in,” she sighed, clearly disgruntled at the early wakeup call. But she couldn’t say no to a little kitty in need. She’d been rescuing animals since she was a little girl, she wasn’t going to leave this one in the dust.

Owen placed the cat on the table as it meowed and nudged Owen’s hand with her head. “It’s okay, Tunabean, Emmy here is gonna make sure you’re okay.”

“Tunabean?” Emmy asked as she put on latex gloves.

“Yeah, I think it’s the cat from the missing posters you see all around town?”

Emmy gingerly took the cat in her gloved hands and started her check-up. “Ah, yes! My brother and his buddies took some of them down, thinking they were ‘rebellious’.” She rolled her eyes. “You gonna bring her back?”

“Of course, Tino said the owner was worried sick about her.”

Emmy smiled at this. Owen had always been the compassionate one in their friend group. He’d only act upon things if he was sure it wouldn’t hurt anyone else. Though, sometimes that compassion vanished when they were with their friends and he got a ‘brilliant’ idea, which was most likely kind of dangerous.

“Oh, look,” Emmy whispered as she showed Tunabean’s paw. There was a thorn stuck in the little pad. “Poor thing! Hold her for a second, please? I’m gonna get my tweezers to get it out.” Owen placed a hand on the cat’s stomach, his fingers lightly scratching at the white fur.

Emmy returned with everything she needed, and within a few seconds, Tunabean was freed from the thorn in her paw and back on her feet. She suddenly seemed a lot more peppy than she was before.

“Let’s get you home, yeah?” Owen said as he scooped the kitten back up into his arms, holding it close to his chest. Emmy took her gloves off and scratched the cat’s head.

“Goodbye, Tunabean,” she cooed, earning licks from her rough little tongue. “Ooh, I think I got the girl’s address here somewhere. Tunabean is Anna’s client and we’ve got them in the system.”

As quickly as she’d said it, she’d handed the address over to Owen. After thanking her profusely, Owen went on his way with the cat tucked safely in his jacket for warmth.

He was nervous as it was already five in the morning and the woman most definitely was still asleep. But he didn’t want to keep her in even more suspense and worry about her cat as she already was.

“Hello?” a sleepy voice sounded through the intercom.

“Hi, I’m Owen, I think I got your cat, Tunabean?”

A silence fell, only Tunabean’s sleepy snoring disrupting the peace and quiet of the night. The poor girl had fallen asleep in Owen’s arms. He almost felt sad he had to give her away again.

It took a good minute before the door to the apartment building opened up and a girl in red flannel pj’s opened the door. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun with big strands falling out of it. Though she’d probably rather not be seen like this out in public, Owen thought she looked breathtaking, even in the dim light from the hallway of her corridor and the street lights.

“You really got Tunabean?” she asked as she held onto the door, squishing herself in the small opening she’d granted herself. Owen opened his jacket and carefully showed her the cat who’d woken up from her slumber. “Tunabean!” the girl exclaimed and grabbed the grey pet from the boy’s hands. Their fingers brushed ever so slightly, and though y/n was too busy with her cat, Owen felt it. He felt the spark.

“I would invite you inside for a drink to thank you, but my roommate is still asleep and I don’t want to wake her.” Owen held up his hand, a smile tugging at his lips as he shook his head.

“That’s okay. I don’t need a reward. I’m just glad I could reunite the two of you again,” he said, smiling at the girl and her cat. “Oh! She did have a thorn in her paw though, but my friend is a vet and I took her to her for a check-up before I came here.”

“Aw, poor Bean,” she scratched the cat’s head before turning back to the blonde boy. “Thank you. That’s very considerate of you.” He tipped his head forward, the smile still persistent on his lips.

“Glad I could help,” he repeated, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jacket again. “I’m gonna go though. I’m sure you’d rather go back to sleep right now than talk to a complete stranger on your doorstep.”

“Oh, uhm, okay… Goodbye then? And thank you again for bringing Tunabean back.”

Owen took a few steps backwards as he said, “You’re most welcome. Goodbye, Tunabean and…”

“Y/N.”

“Goodbye Tunabean and y/n.” His eyes lingered on hers for a few more seconds before he turned around to really make his way home now, no distractions.

“Wait! I didn’t catch yours!” she whisper-shouted after him.

He turned again, but kept walking. “Owen,” he said.

“Goodbye, Owen.” She grabbed Tunabean’s paw and waved at him with it, causing a giggle to rake through Owen’s body. With his hand still in his pocket, he waved back.

The more distance he created between them, the bigger his smile became as he thought of her. She was the epitome of a beautiful dream come to life. It made him wonder what she’d look like if she did put effort into her appearance. That could just be the death of him.

After two more hours of sleep, the alarm blaring through her room woke y/n from a beautiful dream with the mysterious blonde boy that rang her doorbell very early in the morning. It caused her to wake up with the thought of him, wondering if she’d ever see him again.

“Morning,” she greeted Jamila when she found her best friend in the living room, gathering all her stuff. “Guess who came home last night!” As if on cue, the little cat pattered across the hardwood floor towards the dark beauty that was Jamila. Her eyes widened as did her smile upon seeing the white-and-grey ragamuffin.

“Bean!” Jamila shrieked as she knelt down to pick the four-legged friend off the floor. “Oh, baby! I missed you!” She peppered the cat with kisses, receiving the kisses back from her tiny pink tongue. “Where’d you find him?”

“Oh, I didn’t. This guy, Owen, did. He brought her back at, like, five in the morning,” y/n explained as she absentmindedly smiled at the thought of those pretty blue-ish eyes.

“And this Owen guy is pretty cute, isn’t he?” Jamila asked upon noticing her best friend’s flustered demeanor. “Did you ask for his number?” Y/N rolled her eyes before she started gathering her things she needed for work.

“It was five in the morning, I had just woken up and I was too busy with Tunabean’s return to even think of that,” she explained, mostly cursing at herself for not asking his number. “Besides, I looked disgusting, I doubt he thought I was the epitome of beauty.”

Jamila simply shook her head, debating against saying any more about it before pressing a kiss to y/n’s cheek and leaving the apartment.

A silence fell over the space, leaving y/n alone with her thoughts. Her beautiful, yet annoying thoughts of the handsome boy at her front door. “He was handsome, wasn’t he, Tunabean?” she asked her cat, who simply tilted her head to the side as she sat in front of y/n on the floor.

Once y/n had gathered her stuff for work today, she said goodbye to Tunabean and left the apartment. She was fumbling around in her handbag to look for her car keys when a vaguely familiar voice made her look up.

The gorgeous blue eyes she’d been dreaming of for two whole hours were staring down at her whilst the plump pink lips curled up into a dreamy smile. “Oh, hey, Owen.”

“I wanted to come and check up on Tunabean,” he carefully said, pointing up at the building she’d just come out of. “You know, see if she’s okay and stuff.” He suddenly seemed nervous. More nervous than he did at five in the morning.

“Uhm, she’s okay, actually. Slept well and seemed very chipper this morning,” y/n reassured him, a smile playing at her lips as her eyes scanned his face. She made sure to make a mental note of every single detail of his face. Like how he stuck his tongue between his teeth as he smiled or how his eyes squinted slightly or the stubble faintly growing on his chin.

“Oh, okay, good. That’s--that’s all, then…” He awkwardly coughed.

Y/N awaited anything else, her eyes darting left and right as they just fumblingly stood on the curb in front of y/n’s apartment. “I-uhm… I have to get to work though, so…” She pointed somewhere behind Owen, indicating she needed to pass him and get going.

“Right!” he said and took a step aside to let her through. She offered him a little wave and a soft ‘bye’ as she passed him. He watched her walk away, cursing at himself for not asking what he really wanted to ask. “Wait!” he yelled, making her stop in her tracks and turn around again with an expectant look on her face. “That’s-that’s not what I wanted to ask. I mean it was, but it wasn’t the only thing I wanted to ask.” He scratched the back of his neck as y/n’s eyes searched for an answer on his face.

Y/N looked at him with a piercing glint in her eyes, urging him to continue.

“Oh, right! Uhm… Would you -- would you maybe wanna go have a drink with me later today? Or something?” Her smile grew wider as she slowly nodded her head in response.

“I’m off at five. Meet me at Gray Owl then,” she told him before turning to walk away.

Owen was left on her curb, wondering if he had died. He thought she looked pretty when she’d just rolled out of bed, but now that she was all dolled up for work, she was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. And that smile. That smile was killer.

She was more than the epitome of a dream come to life. She was beauty and grace. She was a poem and the poet. She was the lyrics and the melody. She was the question and the answer.

Owen grew more and more curious about that girl the more he thought of her. He wanted to know what she liked and what she absolutely hated. He wanted to know how she laughed and how she cried, if she sang whenever her mind wandered. He wanted to know how she liked her eggs in the morning.

Even though he knew curiosity killed the cat, he knew for a fact the cat in this story was just the beginning of something beautiful.

JATP taglist: @hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg @thequirkybookaholic @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @angryknightstatesmantrash @kiss-themoongoodbye @rudysbay @thedarkqueenofavalon @caitsymichelle13 @calamitykaty @wiselight @kcd15 @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @stars-soph @kinda-really-lost @notasofti

Owen taglist: @alexpjoyner

Lemme know if you wanna be on my taglist!

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #julie and the fat ones #jatp #owen patrick joyner #owen joyner #owen x reader #owen joyner fic #owen x fem!reader #alex jatp

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slythraco · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! Can you do an imagine where Tom buys reader a puppy (preferably a bulldog) and it’s all cute!

Author’s note: This one is so cute ! Thank you for requesting it !

Warnings: None ! It’s pure fluff

Words count: 549 Words

Masterlist

___________

“Hey babe !” You shouted as you enter Tom’s house. “Don’t move ! And close your eyes !” You jump when you hear Tom’s voice screaming you to not move. “Umm...hello first ?” You said before giggling as you almost turn around. “Don’t move !” He shouted again. “Wow okay !” You laugh and close your eyes like he asked, you were still facing the door and you could hear Tom walking behind you. “What are you doing Tom ?” You asked, confused. “I prepared a surprise for you !” You frown, for a second you feel a slight panic taking over your body, thinking you missed an important date or something. “What did I do to deserve this ?” You asked curiously.

“Being an amazing girlfriend ?” You feel your cheek turning red when you heard him. “Okay, you can turn around but don’t open your eyes yet. And don’t cheat !” He says, you could hear he was close to you. You obey and turn around like he asked without opening your eyes. “Now, give me your hand.” You hesitate for a second. “Come on, you don’t trust me ?” He giggles. “Not when I have to keep my eyes closed and give my hand to a clumsy man.” You tease before laughing with him. “Don’t worry ! You’re not in danger Y/N” You nod and finally pull your hand towards him, you feel him gently taking it. He brings it to his lips to put a sweet kiss on it, net falling to making you blush. You then feel him putting your hand on something, you frown, not recognising what it is. You jump when you feel a tongue liking your fingers, you pull away your hand and take a step back.

“What the f- did you just lick my hand ?” You asked out of shock but all you could hear is Tom’s laugh. “No, you can open your eyes darling.” You do as he say and your hand fly to your mouth when you see a little puppy in Tom’s hands. “Oh my god ! He’s so cute !” You shouted with a pounding face as you approach to caresses the little dog. “Surprise !” Tom said in a smile while to rub the puppy’s head. “You are crazy Thomas Andrew Felton” He chuckles as he looks at your happy face, the most beautiful thing he saw in his life, he could do anything to make you smile until he gives you a little Bulldog. “Can I take him ?”

“Yes ! Of course ! It’s ‘her’ by the way “ he corrects you as you take her in your arms, you pull the puppy in the air to look at his little face. “Hi baby ! You’re so cute” You said in a kid voice. “Ready for parenthood Tom ?” You asked your boyfriend as you crouch to put the puppy in the floor. “More than ready !” He shouted before grabbing your face when you stand up again and put a soft kiss of your lips. “We need to find her a name.” Tom seems to think for a second while you look and the dog running around. “What about Willow ?” You turn your head again to him and nods in response. “I like it !” You crouch again, followed by Tom and Willow join you. “Welcome to the family Willow !” Tom murmurs, lacking you smile.

•••••••••

#Tom Felton #tom felton imagine #tom felton one shot #tom felton x reader #tom felton fluff #tom felton request

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like-a-bag-of-potatoes · 4 years ago

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Chapter One - Hello Chicago

A/N: So this is my first crack at Chicago fire fanfiction, so don't judge too hard, alright? This will unfold from the beginning of season three, so if you haven't watched it yet, but plan to; SPOILER ALERT! I tried to follow along with the storyline of the show, but some things have been changed. Shout out to my superawesome beta @thorne93, you rock!

Fandom: Chicago Fire

Pairing: Kelly Severide x Beth (OFC)

Warnings: None.

Wordcount: 2975

Three weeks ago:

It was a beautiful summer day in Chicago, the sun was high in the sky while a warm breeze fanned the air, providing some much needed relief from the scorching sun. Beth had just moved into a cozy little apartment on West Wolcott, a seemingly friendly neighbourhood that she hadn't really had the time to explore yet. One thing she had noticed though, was the little bar on the corner, Molly’s. It reminded her of the last place she worked at back in New York before she picked up her life and headed for the windy city. On this particular day, she saw a ‘help wanted’ sign on the bulletin board outside, and without thinking twice, she climbed the three steps and walked inside. A little bell above the intricate mahogany door chimed, and before it even closed behind her, three confused faces looked up at her from a table near the bar.

“Sorry, we’re closed,” the woman in the group said, offering Beth a friendly smile as she did.

“Oh…” Beth started, looking between the three of them. The woman was a beautiful latina, around Beth's age, with a kind smile. One of the men, the older one of them, looked like he was in his mid forties maybe, and the other one was around Beth's age, maybe a couple years younger. He had big brown puppy dog eyes and a thick mustache. “I just saw the help wanted sign outside, and figured I'd see if you had an application I could fill out,” she explained. “But I can come back later,” she suggested when there was no answer. It felt as though she had walked into something here. She didn't know them, but it seemed as if there was a sadness behind their smiles.

“Nonsense,” the older man exclaimed, getting to his feet. “Come sit down.”

Beth put down her groceries at the door and went to join them.

“I'm Christopher Herrmann,” he introduced, shaking Beth's hand. “That's Gabriella Dawson-” Beth shook her hand too. “And this here is Otis,” he said, patting the guy's shoulder.

“Brian,” the younger man corrected.

“Nice to meet you all. I'm Beth Andrews.”

“So you’re looking for a job?” Gabriella wondered.

“Yeah. I just moved in down the street last week, and I saw the sign upfront today,” she explained.

“You have any experience, kid?” Herrmann asked in a very prominent Chicago accent.

“I do. Spent the last ten years working as a bartender in New York. Two different nightclubs for about five years and then nearly five year's at a neighbourhood bar like this,” she explained. “Then I moved here. I have references,” she added.

“Any other work experience?” he wondered.

“Yeah. I was a paramedic with the New York Firedepartment for eight years. We were on 24 hours and off for 48, so it was easy enough to combine with other jobs.”

The three of them shared an amused look and Beth wondered if she had said something wrong.

“We all work for the CFD at house 51 here in town. Gabby is a paramedic, Herrmann and I are on truck,” Otis explained, and Beth chuckled at the coincidence.

“Paramedic for now,” Gabby corrected. “I've graduated from the academy, and hope to start fighting fires soon.”

“Really? Congrats,” Beth offered.

“Thank you,” Gabby said with a wide smile. “Are you looking to be a paramedic here in Chicago too, or?”

“Not really, no. I got injured on the job and the more time passed, the harder it was to get back to it. I made a real effort about three months ago, but the job had changed for me,” Beth tried to explain, hoping that a fellow paramedic would understand.

“Alright,” Herrmann dragged. “So why Chicago?”

“Heard you guys were hiring. Couldn't let that opportunity slip through my fingers,” Beth joked with a coy smile, looking between the three of them.

Gabby looked at the other two and nodded before looking back at Beth. “Welcome to Molly’s.”

“Really?” Beth exclaimed.

“Yep,” Herrmann confirmed. “Be here at five and we’ll get you settled in.”

***

And that was how Beth landed her job at Molly’s. A job that she absolutely loved. Never had she imagined that a simple bartender job would come with such a wide network of people and friends, but Molly’s had that family vibe to it. It was a place where firefighters, police officers, and doctors came to hang their hat and try to find a good end to an otherwise shitty day at work, or a place to celebrate the good days. She found many acquaintances during her first three weeks, but also some good friends… like Gabby.

After Beth had Gabriella and her fiancee - who was a lieutenant at firehouse 51 - Matt Casey over for dinner, Gabby had convinced her to come to the house and cook for them all, which she gladly did. One thing she had learned through her year's working at NYFD was that the fastest way to a firefighter’s heart was through their stomachs.

Firehouse 51 was still mourning the loss of one of their paramedics, Leslie Shay, who had died on the job just a few weeks before Beth rolled into town. Her death still cast a shadow over the place, but they were all trying to get back to normal. A normal that would be hard to find before the lieutenant of Squad 3 came back from his furlough. Kelly Severide had been Shay’s best friend, and the one that took her death the hardest. No one had seen or heard from him since Shay’s funeral, and they were all starting to wonder if he would ever return to the station at all.

Beth hoped that a good meal would help cheer them up a bit, even if it was just for a little while.

“This smells amazing, Beth,” Cruz complimented as he hovered over her in the kitchen. “Where did you learn to cook?”

“Yeah… Tell them the story,” Gabby said with a chuckle, not looking up from the magazine she was flipping through.

“Alright,” Beth dragged, very aware that all eyes were on her all of a sudden. “I was dating this guy back when I was nineteen. He was a really nice guy, but I didn't really see it lasting very long, so when Valentine’s rolled around I didn't want to splurge on a big fancy gift for him. So I got him a pen,” she started explaining.

“You gave a guy a pen for valentines day?” Cruz asked with raised brows.

“Yeah - well- he was studying journalism and I had it engraved.. It was a nice pen, kay? My point is I wasn't too invested in the relationship at this point.”

“As evidenced by the pen,” Otis chimed in, earning himself a bitchface from Beth.

“But it seemed as though he was in a different place then I was at that time, so he gave me a gift certificate for cooking classes, worth about 500 dollars.”

A round of ‘aww’s’ went around the room followed by Gabby’s “Wait for it.”

“For about two seconds I felt really shitty about the 14 dollar pen I had gotten him, so I started telling him that I couldn't accept his gift. That it was too much.. Too generous. He shut me down and told me it was an investment in our future and that - and I quote - he saw real potential in me, but if we were to start a family, he needed to know that I would be able to cook for them.”

Now there was a mixture of ‘eww’s’ and ‘oh, noes,’ going through the room.

“So I took the gift certificate and left. Then I spent 6 weeks learning to cook all these delicious meals that he will never get to taste,” she concluded.

“Good for you, Beth,” Sylvie complimented. She was the newest member of the firehouse, filling Shay’s position after she died. Sylvie was a small town girl that had this sort of careful nature to her. She was very sweet though. Beth liked her a lot.

“I don't get it,” Cruz said with a puzzled look on his face. “He was planning a future with you, isn't that nice?” Coming from anyone else, this comment would probably piss Beth off, but she knew him, and knew that he didn't really mean anything by it.

“He wasn't planning a future with me, he was planning my future for me,” Beth explained. “Look… being a stay at home mom is tough work, and I admire the shit out of those who do it, but at that point I had my own aspirations and goals for my future. It was pretty clear to me that even though he knew all of this, he didn't care as long as he got the family he pictured in his mind.”

“Oh… well… when you put it like that,” Cruz said, an apologetic look on his face.

“It's alright,” Beth assured before she announced to everyone that dinner was ready, and for all of them to dig in.

***

Dinner had been a huge success and she left the house with an open invitation to come back whenever to cook for them, which was their way of telling her that she had been accepted into their little family.

Now she was back behind the bar at Molly’s, which was easily her favorite place in the world right now. Lieutenant Casey had finally been able to track down and convince Lieutenant Severide to come back to Chicago, and they had all decided to throw him a little welcome home party at Molly’s.

Gabby had already been in Beth’s ear about Kelly Severide, warning her that he was a bit of a ladies man, but Beth assured her that she wasn't interested. She was excited to meet him though, besides being a ladies man, Beth had heard a lot of great things about him.

There was a good crowd already at the bar when Kelly finally showed up. The first thing that Beth noticed was that the pictures of him at the station didn't really do him justice. However, it wasn't the ocean blue eyes, or the plump lips, or even the broad shoulders. It was the way he carried himself. Standing tall and confident in his shoes as he was welcomed into the bar with cheers and pats on the back. There were few things more attractive in a man than confidence, Beth thought to herself, but there was a really fine line between confidence and arrogance, and from where she was standing it looked as though he was on the right side of that line. There was something else that she noticed about him, something that saddened her in some inexplicable way. As soon as the charming smile fell from his lips, his expression hardened. Not in an angry or mean looking way, but more… stoic. Like a man carrying around a pain inside of him that he didn't want anyone to see. Like he was trying to hide his vulnerability by appearing unapproachable.

Beth knew that underneath all that, there was a good man. Of course she hadn't met the man yet, but she knew that from the way people spoke about him.

He didn't take a seat at the bar, instead he wedged himself in between two stools and leaned against the counter.

“This is Beth, Molly’s new bartender,” Gabby said and Beth reached over the bar to shake his hand.

“Kelly,” he said, his piercing blue eyes tracking her features. “Nice to meet you.” The hardness of his face melted away as he smiled politely at her, revealing a little gap between his front teeth. It was as though she caught a little glimpse of who he was behind the hard exterior. It was just a flash, a fraction of a second, and then it was gone again.

“You too,” she offered. “What can I get you?”

“Whiskey,” he said simply before he got roped into a conversation with Chief Boden and Casey.

Beth did her best not to stare at the man, but throughout the night she caught herself looking for him, letting her eyes linger whenever they found him while her mind wondered who this man was underneath. Already then she knew she was in trouble

“I knew it,” Gabby said suddenly into her ear. Beth hadn't even seen her approaching.

“What?” she asked, pretending she had no clue what Gabby was on about. “I'm allowed to look,” she defended when her friend sent her a knowing look.

“You’re allowed to do whatever you want to do,” Gabby said with a coy smile. “Just know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“I'm not gonna get myself into anything,” Beth assured.

“Mhm… Anyway, Matt and I are going to head home. You okay to lock up?” Gabby asked.

The bar was mostly empty now. Just Severide, Cruz, and Otis remained. “Absolutely,” Beth assured. She said goodnight to her friend and then made her way over to the three men. “Last call, boys. What can I get you?”

The level of inebriation around the table was pretty darn high, but considering this was last call and they would be out soon, Beth didn't worry about it too much. As per their request, she grabbed them each a beer and then made her way back behind the bar to start getting ready to close up.

“Hey, Beth,” Kelly suddenly called out, making her spin around. “Come have a drink with us,” he lightly demanded.

She mulled it over for a second before she poured herself a glass of ice water and went to join them.

“What's this?” Kelly asked, pointing to her glass with furrowed brows.

“Water,” she stated simply.

“You don't drink?” he asked, looking into her blue eyes.

“Not at work.” Holy shit was he gorgeous, she thought to herself as she pried her eyes off of the freckles that peppered his nose. She hadn't noticed them earlier, but now that she was so close to him, she could clearly see them. She could still feel his eyes on her when she looked away, but she did her best to ignore the warm feeling that settled in her body under his gaze.

“How are you liking Chicago so far?” Cruz asked.

“It's good,” she said with a bob of her head. “Your pizza sucks though,” she added as an afterthought.

“Oh come on,” Otis exclaimed. “Chicago style beats New York style every day of the week,” he argued, getting support from the other two.

“Uhm.. no. Deep dish pizza tastes like tomato sauce and dough, and nothing more. New York style has the perfect toppings to cheese ratio on a crunchy crust. It's perfection.”

“You’re wrong,” Cruz chimed in. “The thin crust does not support enough toppings. It's structurally unsound.” He gestured as he spoke, as if he was caught in a heated debate about the state of the world or something.

That spiraled into a half an hour long argument about pizza and toppings, ending only when Beth said that she would prove them all wrong by coming into the fire house and cooking them some real pizza. This was met with much enthusiasm.

“Alright, boys. Time to get out so I can close up,” she announced after checking the time.

“You throwing me out of my own bar?” Otis asked as they all got to their feet.

“Damn straight,” she said with a smile, trying to ignore the looks she got from the very handsome lieutenant.

“This because of the pizza thing?”

“Absolutely,” she confirmed with a playful smile.

“Never argue with the bartender,” Kelly noted.

“Exactly,” Beth agreed. “Now get out so I can get home,” she ordered.

The three men were still outside waiting for a cab when Beth locked the door behind her. From what she could tell, Kelly was trying to rope the other two into continuing the evening somewhere else, without much luck it seemed like. She felt for him, she really did. Being alone with your thoughts after losing a loved one was hard, she remembered all too vividly what that was like.

“What about you?” he said, looking at Beth. “Wanna come have some drinks with me?”

“Not even a little bit,” she said. It was a lie. She would very much like to go with him, but she knew how that would end, and tempting as it was, it wasn't really an option. “I'm gonna go home and slip into a light coma.” It seemed as though her answer surprised him, and she got the impression that he wasn't really used to getting turned down.

“Can I walk you home then? Can be scary out here at this time of night,” he tried.

“My apartment is right there-” she pointed a few houses down - “I'm sure I'll make it home before your cab gets here, so you guys can just keep an eye on me from here.”

Cruz and Otis kept their eyes to the ground, trying to not get roped into this awkward interaction. They mumbled a goodnight as Beth left them, trying to hide their smiles from the lieutenant.

“What just happened?” Kelly asked with a confused expression on his face.

“You just got shut down, bro,” Cruz explained.

“Twice,” Otis added, making the two of them laugh.

Kelly watched as Beth made her way to her building, and just as the cab pulled up, she unlocked her door. He raised his hand and gave her a small wave before he got into the backseat of the car. For a while, he had the image of her bright smile, and big eyes in his mind, but soon enough she was replaced by Shay, and grief overtook him once again.

If you want a tag, just shoot me an ASK and we’ll make that happen.

If you like what you read, press that little reblog button, maybe leave me a little comment. Feedback is a great source of inspiration for me.

#Kelly Severide #kelly severide fanfiction #kelly severide fanfic #Chicago Fire #chicago fire fanfiction #chicago fire fanfic #kelly severide x reader #PF

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rcncgaades · 4 years ago

Photo

↪ brief introduction to prudence eaton.

BASICS

full name: prudence camryn eaton. nickname(s): prue, percy ( vastly preferred ). age: twenty-eight. date of birth: 19 october 1992. zodiac sign: libra. place of birth: blackpool, lancashire, england, united kingdom. ethnicity: white. nationality: british. gender: cis female. sexual orientation: homosexual. romantic orientation: homoromantic. religion: she was raised in a protestant household but her family was never all that tied to actively practicing religion and it was never something percy considered all that important to her day-to-day life. as an adult she’s definitely more agnostic leaning than anything. education: bachelors of science in zoology ( university of derby ), masters in biodiversity, evolution & conservation ( university college london ), dphil in zoology ( university of oxford ). occupation: research zoologist & wildlife photographer. language(s) spoken: english ( primarily ), french, german, russian, polish ( learned to the point of being able to carry on conversations during research projects across continental europe ). accent: she has a thick and immediately apparent northern english accent. she hasn’t lived in the united states for a significant period of time and it doesn’t take anyone more than a word or two to realize percy isn’t american.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

face claim: amelia eve. hair color: blonde ( she dyes it brown on occasion but for the most part it’s blonde ). eye color: green. height: 5′3″. weight: 120 lbs. build: slim, athletic. tattoos: an intricate tattoo of a lion on her back ( here ), a half sleeve flower themed tattoo on her left arm ( here ), a small tattoo on the inside of her right bicep of the sun rising/falling over the ocean inspired by a drawing her baby brother gave her when they were children ( here ). piercings: she has traditional ear piercings in her firsts and seconds, she has a nose ring in her left nostril; she had an eyebrow piercing for a long while but took it out when she began guest lecturing and occasionally teaching in earnest– it’s healed up since then. distinguishing characteristics: her accent, how bright and warm she is, her tattoos & piercings, how smart she is ( or so she’s been told by many, many people after speaking to them for all of five minutes ).

PERSONALITY

label: the adventurer. positive traits: adventurous, articulate, brilliant, charismatic, charming, compassionate, considerate, dedicated, earnest, empathetic, forgiving, genuine, hardworking, intuitive, loyal, passionate, sociable, sweet, warm. negative traits: ambitious, competitive, proud, sarcastic, stubborn. assertive, boisterous, excitable, haughty, obsessive, possessive, silly, superstitious. goals/desires: to make a positive impact on her community, to live a better life as an adult than she did as a child, to spend the rest of her life doing things she loves, to fall happily in love. fears: failure, proving to everyone where she grew up that she’s just as useless as they’d always claimed, disappointing her little brother, never seeing either of her brothers again, becoming anything like the worst parts of her parents. hobbies: spending time with her family, smoking ( both weed and tobacco cigarettes ), cooking, baking, gardening when she has the time to do it and the weather’s right for it, hiking, reading, doing research of almost any kind, spending time with her friends, going out– drinking, dancing, anything that lets her be social, watching nature documentaries, listening to podcasts, playing video games, learning new things, knitting, sex. quirks: she talks with her hands extensively, she self-corrects out loud if she uses british slang for something rather than the american equivalent, she rarely raises her voice for any reason at all, she can rattle off her favorite animals and fun facts about them at any given moment with no preparation whatsoever, she almost always has some pop song or another stuck in her head and can be heard humming it until she remembers the words. likes: animals of all kinds, mystery novels, nature documentaries, david attenborough, expensive liquor, pot brownies, baked goods of almost every kind, horror movies, music, flowers, being around people, sex, flirting, star wars, most marvel movies, rpg based video games, podcasts, true crime documentaries, her little brother, being a chef, learning anything new, talking to people about things they’re passionate about, her adopted parents & family. dislikes: her older brother, her childhood, people who don’t respect her & the hard work that’s gone into getting her to where she is in life, dark chocolate, milk, toxic people, accidentally killing plants, being alone for long periods of time, boredom, people who pick fights just to pick fights, bigots.

FAMILY

father: simon james ‘sj’ garrick ( biological ). mark william eaton ( adopted ). mother: claire ophelia ashby ( biological ). rose katherine eaton née prescott ( adopted ). sibling(s): jack charles garrick ( older ) & thomas rupert eaton ( younger ). michael andrew eaton ( older, adopted ). pet(s): a bernese mountain dog named jason & an australian cattle dog named piper. financial status: upper middle class.

BIOGRAPHY

( TW: teenage pregnancy, infidelity, drug use, overdose )

By all accounts— by every metric Percy could use to quantify the fact as an adult— Simon Garrick and Claire Ashby had never been ready to be parents. Was anyone ever really ready to be a parent? It was a question Percy had asked herself constantly as she’d gotten older but it had never been her place to judge– her parents hadn’t done her any favors but for at least some time they had tried to be present and helpful and Percy could never fault them for that. Blackpool– a seaside resort town on the English coast– had been home to Simon and Claire as long as they both could remember but they had remained strangers to one another until they met through a mutual friend when they were seventeen years old. The attraction had been immediate– a spark neither of them were prepared to deal with but allowed to catch and ignite the moment they met, an encounter that resulted in an unplanned pregnancy and a great deal of responsibility neither of them wanted staring them both in the face. Simon dropped out of sixth form promptly to begin working in earnest and provide for the family he certainly hadn’t expected to have but was willing to work to support nonetheless; Claire, after informing her parents, remained in school at her parents’ request though their relationship became strained from that moment on.

When Jack was born the couple was delighted— Simon took to being a father rather quickly and seemed to enjoy it while Claire was an absent mother at best in spite of Simon’s many attempts to help her feel more present in their son’s life. It was no secret to anyone at all that Claire was cheating on Simon with what was rumored to be every eligible man in Blackpool and though Simon was heartbroken by the rumors and the confidence he felt in their truthfulness– he never brought the issue up with Claire– choosing instead to look after their son and try to hold their family together as best he could. It was yet another accident that marked Claire’s second pregnancy when Jack was five and though Simon wasn’t even reasonably confident that the child was his he again prepared himself to be a father as best he possibly could. Percy was born on a cool October morning and from the moment she uttered her first cry her father was devoted to her and for the first time her mother dove headfirst into caring for both of her children with a zeal she’d never demonstrated prior.

Though they were on the poorer side they were happy for a great deal of Percy’s initial childhood and seemed to be primed to be that much happier when Claire found out she was pregnant with her third child when Percy was seven. It was yet more of the same in the Garrick-Ashby household until Tommy was around two and Claire eloped with a family friend and informed Simon plainly that she couldn’t handle being stuck in a dead end town with a dead end life and three children she hadn’t wanted in the first place. Simon was devastated but for the first year or two following Claire’s departure he managed to hold both himself and the family together rather well. Percy– already a brilliant girl intellectually and a spot of sunshine in the world as far as her father was concerned– began to help around the house to take some of the worry away from her father even going so far as to look after her baby brother whenever she wasn’t at school. Jack, who was sixteen, more or less stopped coming home and though Percy was aware he was essentially living with a friend’s across town she considered his absence in her life nothing short of abandonment and even as an adult holds a deep resentment towards him for that fact.

Things for the Garrick family began to unravel slowly— Simon began to spend what money he earned from work on cocaine and other drugs– he was still present and still loving but Percy found herself more and more becoming a parent to Tommy rather than a sister. When she was twelve Simon’s habits escalated to a rather expensive heroin addiction that Percy could hardly process, let alone deal with and though she tried her best to raise her brother and herself it was difficult for a child to raise another child. She was nearly thirteen when she came home from school with Tommy in tow to find their father had overdosed in their kitchen— an overdose that would, even after her frantic call to emergency services, eventually lead to his death. Without extended family to look after them and with Jack’s refusal to take on the responsibility of raising siblings he hardly knew both Percy and Tommy became wards of court.

Percy– already with a reputation for being a brilliant student– threw herself into her studies with that much more zeal as she and Tommy adjusted to life with their first foster family; her IQ was tested and she was placed into progressively more advanced courses until she was taking university classes part-time by the time she entered year eleven. Her foster parents supported her fully and there was frequent talk of adoption for both herself and Tommy— who was easily the most important person in her life bar none. She was very nearly eighteen by the time the adoption paperwork was processed and both she and Tommy were officially members of the Eaton family. Though she was reluctant to leave Tommy behind when she’d been his primary caregiver for so many years prior to being placed with their adoptive family it was the encouragement of her adoptive parents Mark and Rose that finally reassured Percy to the point of feeling comfortable applying to universities about as far away from Blackpool as she could get without leaving the country. Higher education was a world of splendor for Percy who had always been so fiercely curious and sharply intelligent– she finished her undergraduate degree six months earlier than most of his graduating class before moving on to study further.

Animals and zoology had been passions of hers from the moment she visited a zoo for the first time on an outing with her parents when she was still very young. She was fascinated by animals of all sorts and wanted to know everything about how to care for them and preserve the environments they called home. It seemed the logical choice for her to follow her chosen course of study as far as she could-- and when she was twenty-six she walked away from Cambridge with a degree in zoology to her name and several research positions made available to her over the whole of continental Europe and beyond if she chose to take them. Traveling across Europe to do the thing she loved more than anything in the world was a gift Percy had never had any inkling of taking advantage of and she eventually began to give guest lectures at universities in major cities near her work sites as well as develop a passion for photography she found delightful to explore when she was researching in far away countries she’d never imagined even seeing as a child. When her research positions drew closer to their deadlines and the projects she’d been working on were finalized she began to search for another place to call home-- eventually settling on Turtle Bay due largely in part to the fact that Tommy had found his way to the area for college and Percy couldn’t think of anything more delightful than doing work she loved with her little brother at her side-- even if the work is a bit more sporadic than she’d like-- she’s always been able to look on the bright side of things and she doesn’t see that changing.

#「 percy — general 」 » prudence eaton.#intro.

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venmomejoy · 4 years ago

Text

The Lucky Ones- Pt. 4

Summary: After years of living on the run, Neil Josten is offered a role on The Foxes, one of the most popular shows on television. Accepting is probably one of the most foolish things he could do; he would be exposing himself to everything he had spent years running from. But Neil can't help himself.

part one / part two / part three

read it on AO3 here!!

Whoever it was, they had been careful. Every single item was in the exact place Neil had left it, not a hair out of place. His clothes were stacked in the correct order, his shoes pressed to the bottom of the bag, his binder snug in between a ratty gray shirt and a pair of black sweats.

His binder.

He whipped out the plastic folder, furiously flipping through the pages, looking for anything amiss. Neil loosed a sigh when he saw that the pages of contacts and coordinates were all still there, the cash he kept on hand seemingly unskimmed. Most of the information was coded, so he doubted the pilferer understood what he was looking at, but it still unnerved him that someone had seen the most important thing he owned, the information that keeps him alive.

But there was no way for him to code the news clipping and magazine articles he had stuck in there. Pages and pages of information on Riko and Kevin's career, dating back several years. Whoever saw this likely had a myriad of questions for Neil, and he didn't know how he would explain. The other documents he might be able to dance around, but the articles about Kevin and Riko were so straight forward, there's no way he could twist it into anything that wouldn't raise suspicion.

Neil clenched his jaw, fingers twisting into the fabric of his bag until his knuckles turned white. No one in this house had shown any interest in Neil's past, his belongings, besides Andrew. And he got the feeling only Andrew would cross this kind of boundary without provocation.

He stood abruptly, shoving his duffel bag under the bed. He needed to find somewhere safe to put it, somewhere that could not be infiltrated by prying hands; that was priority number two. Priority number one was confronting Andrew.

Neil shouldered Andrew's door opened, only to be met with an empty room. The comforter was pulled down, the sheets were ruffled in such a way that Neil knew Andrew had been lying here earlier tonight. He had walked through their lounge on the way to Andrew's room and hadn't seen him, so he shuffled downstairs to check the rest of the public spaces, coming up short. Until he got to the kitchen.

Andrew was perched on the countertop, spooning ice cream into his mouth. He dragged his eyes to Neil, the heavy glare in his eyes not faltering as he took in Neil's gritted teeth, his clenched fists. Andrew didn't want to mess around; good, Neil didn't either.

"You went through my bag."

This got Andrew's attention, his eyes flicking up to Neil's. He probably thought he had been so thorough, so meticulous, that Neil would never realize what he had done. He probably thought he would be able to catch Neil by surprise, ambush him with questions while he was reeling from all Andrew had discovered. Neil's blood boiled.

"What makes you think it was me? There are eight other people in this house, it could have been any one of them," Andrew mused, twirling his spoon in the air.

"It was you. What's your deal with me?"

"Ah, Neil, the real question is, what's your deal with Kevin?" Andrew asked, pushing himself off the counter.

Neil willed his voice to be steady. "I don't have a deal with Kevin."

"The shrine you have in that binder of yours says otherwise."

Neil had only been a child when he had started collecting those articles. He knew it was weird, but...it was a way to cope. Looking at these articles, watching Kevin and Riko grow up, reminded Neil of the life he could have had. He could have grown up with Kevin and Riko, could have been adored by millions, instead of being chased down dirty alleys with a bullet in his shoulder. All three of them were in the room that day; why did they get to live lavishly while Neil took off running? The articles were an impulse Neil let himself give in to, the resentment and burning jealousy a vice he indulged in. But he couldn't exactly tell that to Andrew.

"You shouldn't have gone through my things. I meant what I said Andrew- get off my back."

Andrew's body twisted so suddenly that Neil barely had time to react before there was a knife pressed against his abdomen. "Neil, you're efforts at intimidation are valiant, but pointless. You'd do well to start doing what I say; you don't want to get out of my good graces." The menacing smile creeping on his face had Neil questioning how "good" his good graces really were.

He would be stupid not to see the threat in Andrew's eyes, but all Neil could see was red. "Fuck you."

The laugh Andrew gave was nothing short of sinister, but before he could continue, a lengthy shadow fell over them. "What the hell is going on here?" Kevin questioned, using his fist to rub the sleep out of his eyes. "Did I not tell you to get some sleep tonight? It's fucking 3 am."

Maybe he didn't understand exactly what kind of fucked-up relationship Kevin and Andrew had, but Neil knew that Kevin played a part in this too. He may not have sanctioned it, but Kevin and Andrew seemed to act in each other's interests. Neil didn't particularly feel like yelling at Kevin in front of Andrew, but he couldn't make him leave, so he did the next best thing. He felt his nostrils flare, his brow tighten as he turned to his castmate and began speaking in furious French. "You need to keep your pets on a tighter leash."

Kevin didn't try to hide his surprise at Neil's language switch, and Neil couldn't help the stab of satisfaction that surged through him at his shocked expression. When it became apparent Kevin wasn't going to speak, Neil continued. "Andrew went through my things. Call your dog off."

Kevin's mouth tightened. "I don't control what he does. Don't provoke him and he won't bother you."

"I thought you were leading this cast. Do you have so little authority here that you can't keep your own underlings in check? Guess they don't want the Moriyama's sloppy seconds."

His nostrils flared. "Fuck you, Neil. You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Keep your friends in line. If one of you messes with me again you won't like the consequences."

"Is that a threat? From a skittish thing like you?"

"I'm not scared of a spineless cripple."

Kevin went stock-still, face pinching as he subconsciously cradled his bad hand. "The fuck did you call me?"

"I called you a passé coward whose career is circling the drain."

That seemed to snap something in Kevin. He pushed out of the doorway and advanced on Neil with murder in his eyes. Neil slipped around the island, narrowly avoiding Kevin's grasp, and sprinted out the front door before Kevin could catch him. He didn't wait to see if Kevin would pursue him, only set off in a sprint to the nearest convenience store. He moved on to priority two: securing safety for his belongings. He bought the first safe he found that fit the size parameters for his binder, along with a fresh pack of cigarettes. He would still need to hide the safe, but having it would significantly ease his anxiety.

He walked back home, a cigarette burning between his fingers, letting the smoke drift upwards without breathing any in. The smoke calmed his racing mind, and for a moment, he could pretend his mother was still here, that she would take care of this stuff, would make sure he wouldn't screw up this massively again. But when he looked over, it was just him on the street.

--------------------

Neil pushed himself off of his bed, residual anger and premature anxiety waking him hours before his alarm went off. He let himself run for an hour before returning to the cast house. Raiding the kitchen left him with two apples and some greek yogurt, which Neil quickly ate before jumping into the shower. He could hear signs of life outside of the porcelain tub, muffled conversations drifting up to him from the floors below.

After drying and dressing, Neil made his way downstairs and found everyone eating in the kitchen, sans Andrew and Allison. From what he'd seen of Allison, she spent a good amount of time perfecting her appearance, so Neil imagined she was somewhere primping, but he didn't know what Andrew was doing, and he didn't care. Someone had gotten donuts, and everyone was thoroughly enjoying the sugar, except Kevin, who was scowling at them all from the corner while he munched on a granola bar.

Nicky noticed him first. "Neil! You want breakfast?"

"I'm okay, I ate earlier."

"Oh, okay, no problem. More for Andrew- that man is a sugar fiend."

"Well, tell Andrew to take them to go, because we have to leave in ten if we want to make it to the studio on time," Dan said, pushing her chair back as she stood.

"Speaking of Andrew," Seth says, rubbing at his temples, "What was all the yelling about last night?"

Curious eyes turn to Kevin, who simply sneers, inclining his head towards Neil. Neil squirmed as everyone's attention shifts to him, but their expressions were full of worry and apprehension. From the absence of curiosity on their faces, Neil assumed Aaron and Nicky had been filled in on last night's events.

"Neil, are you alright man? What did Andrew do?" Matt asks.

"Who says I did anything?" a sardonic voice drawls from the staircase. "So quick to defend the man you've known for one day. Your prejudice against me is inappropriate and erroneous."

It's Dan who speaks this time. "We know you, Andrew, so don't play innocent. What's the issue?"

"Oh look, Neil's little army, coming to his rescue! Who knew you were so adept at making friends? I thought someone like you would know better."

Ignoring Andrew completely, Neil said, "It was nothing, just a little disagreement." They looked unconvinced.

Andrew scooped up two chocolate donuts, both covered in rainbow sprinkles, before swinging onto the counter. "I'd suggest putting on some shoes, Neil. We're leaving in five."

He shot his eyes up to Andrew's and held the blond's stare, even as that delirious smile spread across his face. Neil couldn't refuse, not now that Andrew had been through his binder. He could expose all he'd seen at any moment; Neil would be at Andrew's mercy until he could get this situation under control.

Neil turned on his heel, refusing to give Andrew the satisfaction of seeing him yield. Sliding into his shoes took seconds, the journey up and down the stairs minutes, and by the time he was in the living room again, Andrew was swinging his keys around his finger. He turned towards the door without a second glance, tossing the keys to Nicky as he went, trusting the others to scamper behind him. Kevin might lead this cast, but Andrew undeniably leads this group.

Nicky turns to him as they walk. "So... French, huh?"

Neil levels an unimpressed look at him. "Yes."

"You're fluent?"

"Not completely, but I know enough."

"What made you pick French?"

Neil had contemplated this answer last night. He figured Andrew and Kevin would be curious about his language switch, and he needed to have a believable response at the ready. "My mother's family was French. She insisted I picked it for my foreign language credit."

"I studied German in school. I even studied abroad in Germany. That's where I met Erik," Nicky said, his eyes turning soft.

"Your boyfriend?"

"Yeah. He was the son of my host parents, and we just... clicked. He really helped me with a lot of stuff, and he's unbelievably hot. He's in Germany still, and as soon as my time on The Foxes ends, I'm moving there."

"Why'd you leave at all? For the show?"

"Not exactly. Someone had to take care of these two punks when Tilda died, so I became their legal guardian. We didn't get Wymack's offer until after I moved back." Neil inferred that Tilda was the twin's mother, but he couldn't comprehend the gravity of what Nicky had done for his family. He had left the man he loved, the place he loved, to become the caretaker of two extremely volatile and difficult children. Neil couldn't understand why he would do something like that, especially with how ungrateful the twins seemed. They separated before Neil could respond, him to the back and Nicky to the driver's seat.

Neil found himself pressed in between the twins, Andrew on his right and Aaron on his left. Aaron was staring intently out the window as Nicky pulled onto the road, but Neil could feel Andrew's eyes boring holes into his head. His grin was already in full-gear when Neil met his eyes. "Neil, Neil, Neil. Here I was, thinking we were getting along splendidly, and you just had to come and start a problem."

"I didn't start anything. If you don't want problems, stay out of my things."

"Oh, when will you learn? I do what I want. Don't try to control me; it makes me want to hurt you."

Neil can't help his scoff. "You can try."

"Ohhhh, Neil, don't tempt me." He looks Neil up and down. "You might turn out to be fun." He throws his head back in laughter.

When he settles, Andrew says, "Tell your secretary to clear your schedule for tomorrow night. We're going to Long Beach, and I have graciously extended an invitation to you."

Neil didn't know what Andrew was paying at. He knew Andrew had no interest in turning over a new leaf, knew this was not some offer of friendship from any of them, but whatever scheme they had planned in Long Beach, Neil still couldn't refuse. Andrew knew too much. He would have to hope his survival instincts were enough to get him out of Andrew's game unscathed.

"Trust me, it'll be fun," Nicky said, angling his head towards Neil without taking his eyes off the road. "We used to live in Long Beach, so we know all the good spots. We'll get dinner and then head to the club. And, we have a place down there, so we don't have to worry about driving home wasted."

"I don't drink. Or party." Crowds are easy to hide in, which would usually be a good thing, except they are easy for other people to hide in too. He has too many enemies to lose himself in a huge party, where someone could easily sneak up on him, where he could easily be taken without anyone noticing.

"That's alright, you can just hang with us and make fun of all the stupid shit intoxicated people do." Nicky finally glanced towards Neil, and his eyes looked hopeful. Neil didn't know why he cared. "Come on, man, let's not let this little scuffle ruin the rest of the season. We are going to be working together for the next few months, so let's put all of this behind us and start over. There's no reason why we can't get along."

Neil didn't trust it. But what could he do?

He wheeled on Andrew. "If I go, promise me you'll never touch my things again."

"So paranoid," Andrew says, eyes roving over Neil. "What makes you think you're so interesting that I'd want to go through your belongings multiple times?

Neil just stares at him, unfazed by the sarcasm. He wouldn't roll over on this.

Andrew flicks his hand in dismissal. "Fine, fine. This should be fun."

--------------------

Dan and Matt were scanning Neil from head to toe as soon as he got out of the car, checking him for injuries.

"Look, he's not hurt." Nicky put his hands on Neil's shoulders and pushed him in a little circle "See?"

They still look skeptical. "Nowhere we can see," Matt grumbles.

"And you can't see emotional damage," Dan shoots, glaring at Andrew as she does. He only smiles.

Kevin pulls Neil away from the bickering, leading him through the main doors. Neil thinks he's probably still upset about what happened last night, but for the most part, he seemed to have put it behind him for rehearsal.

"Abby Winfield is our personal acting coach. We meet with her twice a week to work on technique and connection and anything else you can think of. Usually we'll run scenes from the show, but sometimes we pull outside scenes or improv. I know I told you that you have talent, and you do, but that doesn't mean you're good- it only means you have the ability to become good. You need to hone your skills and learn real techniques before you'll be anywhere close to ready for filming.

All of the people on this cast has years of experience on you, so you're going to have to work double-time to catch up. We all need to look of the same caliber on screen; it's the weakest person's job to match the skill of the strongest. I don't have time to coddle you. We need you to be ready in two and a half weeks, so we can't slow down to cater to your ego. If Abby or I critique you on something, you accept it, make the change, and keep moving."

Neil greedily accepted all of Kevin's instruction. The bubble of excitement in his chest was unfamiliar, but Neil liked it. It had been so long since Neil had looked forward to anything that he had forgotten what the feeling was like.

As soon as Kevin swung the door open, Abby was striding over to them. She stuck her hand out for Neil to shake as soon as she was in reaching distance while she introduced herself before ushering them into the training room. Someone had assembled ten metal chairs in a semicircle, and Neil chose a seat at the end. Unfortunately, there was no seating chart, and Andrew plopped into the seat next to him.

"So, Neil, David tells me you don't have any screen acting experience?" Abby asks, a pen poised over her clipboard.

"No, just a little bit of theater."

"Christ above," Seth mutters, "our ratings are going to plummet with someone as inexperienced as this kid dragging us down."

"Don't forget, Seth, we all have to start somewhere. Not everyone had the opportunity to start acting young." Abby levels a stern look at Seth, who just rolls his eyes, before redirecting her attention to Neil. "Well, looks like we have our work cut out for us. Let's get started."

They did a few warm-up exercises before moving into the actual acting, deciding to use scenes from the script, which Neil had just about memorized. They started with a scene Neil was not in so he could get a feel for what the sessions would look like. In this scene, Dan was arguing with Allison. The conversation felt a little stilted, but the anger on their faces was incredibly realistic. Abby gave them a few critiques before turning to Kevin, who gave some of his own. Their critiques were minor and quickly fixed when they ran the scene again. Happy with the outcome, Kevin let them reclaim their seats.

"Neil, you're up," Abby calls. "Let's run act three, scene two. Start on page 31."

Flipping to the correct page in his script, Neil walked to the center of the room. Matt and Nicky were in this scene with him, both greeting him with big smiles. Neil's character Alex had met all of the other characters in the earlier scenes, but this would be where he meets Ethan, played by Matt, and Henry, played by Nicky. Alex is cagey and mistrustful, hiding something big. It was easy for Neil to slip into character.

They had barely been rehearsing for two minutes before Kevin stopped them. "Neil, the dialogue is too stiff. It's painfully obvious everything you're saying is scripted, and it needs to feel like this is a real, natural conversation. Loosen up and try it again."

Neil nodded, taking a deep breath before jumping back it, but Kevin halted them again soon enough. "Neil, this isn't Shakespeare. Stop fucking talking in iambic pentameter. People don't naturally talk with that kind of syncopation. Listen to me talking right now. Do you hear the pacing of my words? This is how your lines need to sound. Stop overthinking and let it flow."

They worked that scene over and over again. It felt like as soon as Neil fixed one thing, Kevin was found another to pick apart, and his criticism wasn't exactly constructive. It was often instruction mixed with insults, or sometimes insults meant to instruct. Abby spoke up every now and then, but for the most part would just nod along with Kevin's statements, occasionally wincing at his harshness. They worked on his pacing, on making his movements feel more natural, on drawing from the other actors' energies. They ran that scene for at least an hour before Kevin waved him down. They decided to end the session on a scene with the twins.

Andrew and Aaron played twins in the show- Eli and Grayson, respectively. The scene is pretty emotional: Grayson has just been released from prison after being framed for murder, reuniting with his brother for the first time in months. Aaron quickly morphed into his character, tears welling in his eyes as he speaks to his brother, rambling about how scared he was, how he never thought he would get out. Neil was thoroughly stunned; it's not that he didn't expect Aaron to be a good actor, he just hadn't seen Aaron in anything other than a scowl, so the intense emotion he was pouring out caught Neil by surprise. Andrew, on the other hand, did nothing. In the script, Eli is trying hard to remain strong and put-together, since his character has always been the stoic type, but it is meant to be obvious he is putting on a front, that he is really just as affected as his brother. But Andrew is standing still, looking at his brother unfeelingly, not even bothering to say his lines after Aaron finishes his monologue. Everyone waits for a minute, but Andrew just laughs and gives a mocking clap to his brother. Aaron snaps out of character, rolling his eyes and turning to Kevin, who looked as if this behavior was normal, but still disappointing.

Abby finishes scribbling onto her clipboard before saying, "That was a good session, guys. Neil, that was really good for a first rehearsal, especially with no practice on the screen."

"It was sloppy," Kevin interjects. "You're incredibly far behind us all. You're going to have to work a lot harder than that if you don't want to make an embarrassment of yourself on set."

"But we're all here to help you, Neil," Abby says, sending Kevin a sharp look. "Don't worry too much."

Neil nodded his head, drained from the energy he'd exerted today, both in the acting and restraining himself from killing Kevin. As they walked out, he asked Nicky, "Why doesn't Andrew rehearse?"

Nicky just shook his head. "Andrew's complicated. He doesn't care about acting, doesn't care about his performance, doesn't care how the show looks or how it's received. In order for Andrew to try, he needs incentive."

"Incentive?"

"Yeah. Usually, during filming Wymack lets Andrew come off his medication. I'm assuming you know that Andrew's drugs are court-ordered?" Neil nods. "Yeah, so, if he's caught unmedicated he could go to jail, since it's a breach of his parole. And Andrew hates taking the medication, but he doesn't want to risk jail time, so he does it. But Wymack lets him sober up while we film in return for his effort. Wymack doesn't extend his offer to rehearsals, so Andrew doesn't try. He never does, but Kevin's still disappointed every time. He thinks one day he'll get Andrew to care."

Neil scoffs. "I thought Renee was the optimist."

"She is." Nicky grins back. "Kevin just thinks that everyone's as obsessed with acting as he is. His isn't optimism, it's a break from reality."

They stopped and grabbed take-out for lunch on their way back to the cast house. Kevin had designated today as a binge-watching day, and since it was only 1 pm, Neil figured they could get through a significant chunk of season one. The grabbed their food and fell into formation around the TV while they started up episode four.

Neil was entranced. The acting definitely needed work, but the plot was really engaging and well planned out. They broke after episode eight, with just two left in the season, and Neil thought he'd developed a pretty good grasp on the premise: The Foxes centered around Kayla, a junior at Palmetto High School, whose world is rocked when her best friend Madi, played by Renee, is found dead. The police name a group of suspects, namely people close to Renee. Ethan, played by Matt, is Madi's older brother. Nicky's character, Henry, is Ethan's best friend, and happens to be secretly in love with him. Allison plays Audrey, a schoolmate who always went out of her way to be mean to Madi. Seth is Austin, Madi's current boyfriend, although their relationship is pretty new. Aaron plays Grayson, Madi's ex-boyfriend, Andrew his fiercely protective brother, Eli. Kayla feels unsatisfied with the police's techniques and decides to look into the case herself, teaming up with Ethan to look for answers. The two become very close as they do, and just had their first kiss in the last episode they watched. So far, they are looking at Audrey; the girl had always been unnecessarily cruel to Madi- who knew how far she would go? Personally, Neil felt like it was all too wrapped up. There was something they weren't seeing.

They had stopped their watch party because Wymack showed up with dinner. They sprawled around the dining table, scarfing the food down as they filled Wymack in on their training with Abby before Dan asked, "What do you think so far, Neil?"

"I like it a lot. I was surprised when Kayla and Ethan kissed in the last episode. I didn't see that coming."

"What?" Nicky exclaimed. Neil was receiving looks of confusion from everyone, except Andrew, who seemed to find the whole thing amusing. "You're joking. Tell me you're joking."

Neil just frowned and shook his head. Why was this such a big deal?

"Neil, they built that kiss up from, like, episode one. Did you not see the secret glances, the suggestive dialogue? There was so much sexual tension you could choke on it."

Neil felt uncomfortable. "I don't know, I just didn't notice they had feelings for each other. I thought they were just working on the case."

"You're unbelievable," Nicky said, rolling his eyes.

"Well, who do you think did it?" Matt questions.

"I'm not really sure. I know they're leading us to think it's Audrey, but I think the whole thing feels too easy. Grayson has the most motive, being Madi's ex and all, but he seems too even-tempered to kill someone. I'm leaning towards Henry. I feel like he's the only one who hasn't even really been considered."

"Hmm," Matt hummed, and everyone looked on in amusement at Neil's musing.

The rest of dinner was filled with idle conversation, recounting the scenes they had watched and remembering funny moments from when they had filmed them. When they were all finished, Wymack plopped onto their couch and started flipping through channels, content to let his actors clean up.

In the middle of drying dishes, Neil felt Kevin freeze from where he stood next to him. He looked over at him, but Kevin's eyes were glued to the TV. Wymack had turned on a talk show, but the reduced volume couldn't hide the image of Riko Moriyama. Kevin's face was pale, his hands shaking as he strode over to the couch, turning up the volume before Wymack could say anything.

"So, Riko, when does Evermore head back to production?"

"Well, we're set to start filming again in about four weeks."

"Ahh. Isn't that around the same time your old friend Kevin Day will return to filming on The Foxes?"

Neil could see Riko's face tighten at the reminder, as if he was hiding a sneer. It was so minuscule he doubted anyone would have noticed, had they not been trained to analyze every little movement for a possible threat like Neil had. Glancing over, Neil knew Kevin saw it too.

"I believe they start a little bit earlier than us, but around the same time, yes. Ironic, isn't it?" His smile was camera-ready, but didn't reach his eyes.

"It is indeed. Well, perhaps you can wish him luck for us on his second season with The Foxes!"

"I would, if Kevin and I still spoke." His words were met with gasps from all around the audience, and quite a few from their living room. "I haven't heard from him since his accident."

Kevin was whispering something from where he stood, something that sounded like a prayer.

"He wouldn't dare," Allison said.

The host recovers from his shock. "I must say, Riko, this is surprising. You two were as close as brothers- I don't think anyone thought you two would have a falling out."

"Yeah, I didn't either, but Kevin took the accident really hard. We all did. And when we found out he couldn't finish the season? Well, it was like you said, I felt like I lost my brother. The emotional stress of it all took a toll. We had been acting together since childhood; I don't think either of us knew how to go on without the other. And we eventually just lost contact. There was no loss of love, at least on my part. I miss Kevin dearly. I'm actually hoping to see him soon."

"Is that so? Hollywood's favorite pair, reunited after over a year apart?"

"We'll see." Riko's smirked.

With that, the show ended.

The silence in the room was deafening for a moment, everyone looking at Kevin. His eyes were blown wide, the shaking in his hands spread to his whole body. Neil could here his hyperventilating from where he stood. "Fuck," was all Kevin said. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Kevin started pacing, dragging his hands through his hair and tugging. Wymack stood up and grabbed his shoulders. "Hey! Kevin, stop. Sit down."

"No! I can't- I just-" Neil had never heard that kind of panic in Kevin's voice. "I told you, I told you he was going to come for me, and now..."

"He's not going to touch you, Kevin. He can't. You're signed with me for the next two years. He has no claim to you. "

"They can pay my contract off a hundred times over and you know it! There's no way for me to escape him. I've already angered him so much, if he finds me he'll-"

Andrew strode forward until he stood directly in front of Kevin, Kevin falling silent. "Kevin."

Kevin just looked at the ground, breathing erratic.

Gone was any trace of humor in Andrew's eyes, replaced with an empty stare. "Kevin, look at me." Kevin's eyes were frenzied when he raised them to Andrew's. "I don't make promises I can't keep. I told you he wouldn't touch you, and he won't. Have I ever failed you before?"

Slowly, Kevin started to relax. Neil could tell he was still nervous, but whatever Andrew had promised him seemed to calm him. He fell back into the couch, burying his head in his hands.

Everyone's faces were pinched with concern, even Aaron and Seth looking uneasy abut what they heard. Neil just watched the scene in confusion. He didn't know why it was such a big deal that Riko wanted to get back in touch with Kevin. Riko seemed psychotic, sure, and his family seemed like a cult, but he and Kevin had always seemed like they loved each other.

Wymack noticed Neil's confusion, sighing before he waved him over, leading them into the hallway. "Neil, there's something you should know if you're going to be a part of this cast."

Neil just looked at him. "Okay."

Wymack opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, before asking, "The Moriyama's aren't who you think they are."

Neil froze. He didn't like surprises, and he got the feeling he wasn't going to like where this was going.

"The Moriyama's- they are big in the film industry, yes, but that's not where they make their money. The Moriyama's are a gang."

4 notes · View notes

ila9182 · 5 years ago

Text

Fictober - "It will be fun, trust me.”

Here is a new prompt for Fictober! I’m sorry I haven’t written as many as I wanted, but life is being crazy lately.

Fandom: Major Crimes - Sharon & Andy

Genre: Fluff/family.

Mistakes are all mine, also I hope I got the baseball rules right. I hope you will enjoy this story! ;)

----------------------------

#1. “It will be fun, trust me.”

Andy stopped the car in a small deserted parking lot. Sharon arched an eyebrow as she scanned the surroundings before looking back at Andy. It was Sunday afternoon and Andy had dragged her out of the condo, telling her to trust him and to do as he said. Sharon couldn’t help but think that Andy and Provenza’s shenanigans always started this way, but she had trusted Andy anyway. She wasn’t sure now she did the right choice. Sharon looked down at her outfit and then at Andy’s; they were both in their Dodgers attire, but they weren’t at the stadium. It was odd. Sharon couldn’t stay quiet anymore.

“Andy, what are we doing here?” Sharon asked with a skeptical look, “And why are we dressed like this if we’re not going to see the game?”

Andy smiled. He could tell she was getting impatient. He knew Sharon didn’t really like surprises, so he simply told her, “Follow me and you’ll understand.”

Andy got out of the car and quickly reached the passenger’s door, opening it for Sharon. She got out and eyed Andy skeptically. He chuckled and only added, “Trust me.”

“Andrew Flynn, you know that nothing good happens when you say those words.” Sharon replied, forcing her voice to sound firm, but a smile crossed her features nonetheless.

Andy chuckled again. He took her by the hand, leading her to a green field, “Come on, Sharon.”

As they walked on the grass, Sharon realized it was an old abandoned baseball field and her frown grew wider. She stopped and Andy did the same as he turned to face her.

“Andy, what…” Sharon started in disbelief.

“Grandpa! Sharon!” Two small excited voices exclaimed.

Sharon and Andy turned around to see Noah and Aiden running in their direction. They both knelt down and opened their arms to welcome the children. Both kids threw themselves in Andy and Sharon’s arms happily. “Hey there, sweethearts…” Sharon whispered with a wide smile, kissing first Noah’s head and then Aiden’s.

Andy ruffled the kids’ hair as he greeted them, “Kiddos! You’re ready?”

“Yay!!” The children exclaimed, jumping excitedly before running away, to the center of the field.

Andy stood and took Sharon by the hand to help her doing the same. She still looked clueless and opened her mouth to speak when Nicole and Dean joined them. “Dad! Sharon!” Nicole greeted them cheerfully, hugging Sharon first and then her father. Dean greeted them as well when Nicole added, “You have no idea how excited Noah and Aiden are to play baseball with you, Dad!”

“Anything for those two kiddos.” Andy replied with a warm smile.

“Play baseball?” Sharon repeated with a frown. She studied the young couple in front of her. Nicole was wearing a white t-shirt and jeans and a Dodgers cap. Dean was dressed more sportingly. Suddenly it hit her. She looked down at her attire before meeting her husband’s gaze, “Andrew Flynn. Do you expect ME to play baseball?”

“Come on, babe! You love baseball!” Andy exclaimed, gesturing with his right hand.

“I love watching baseball from the bleachers with you, with a greasy hotdog and sodas.” Sharon rectified, “I don’t know how to play baseball!” She added, emphasizing the word play.

“I’ll teach you.” Andy replied with a look full of hope. “It will be fun, trust me.” He noticed Sharon was about to retort and he added with a puppy dog’s face, “Please, Sharon, for the kids.”

“Only for Noah and Aiden.” Sharon conceded with a sigh. “You and me, Andy, are going to talk about this later.” She warned him before walking away, joining the two boys.

“Dad, you’re sure this was a good idea?” Nicole asked hesitantly, watching Sharon with her children.

“Oh yeah, don’t worry.” Andy answered with a reassuring wave of the hand. “She acts like she’s all pissed off, but she’s going to enjoy this.”

Andy shoved his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants before joining Sharon and the kids. Nicole and Dean shared a skeptical look and followed him.

“Okay everyone, you’re ready?” Andy announced with a grin. He earned a glare from Sharon and some excited cries from the boys.

Dean opened his backpack and gave Aiden the ball, “Pitcher?” He asked his nine-years-old son.

Aiden nodded happily and took the ball in his hand as he jogged to his position. Dean then gave a glove to everyone and was about to hand the bat to Andy when the older man said, “No, the batter is going to be Sharon.” He smiled at her as he took the glove from her hands and gave her the bat.

“Andy, I don’t know how to…” Sharon objected.

“I’ll show you.” Andy simply answered with a reassuring smile.

Sharon scoffed and walked to her position while Andy gave instruction, “So I’m one of the outfielders, the left one… Dean, you’re the right one.”

“Sure, Andy.” Dean agreed with a smile.

“Noah, you’re third base?” Andy asked. The seven-years-old boy cheerfully clapped his hands and Andy added, “Nic, first base?”

“Guess so, Dad.” Nicole replied with an eye roll.

“Okay, then! Fielders, all with me!” Andy announced.

They all gathered in a circle, Sharon watching them from afar as they whispered to each other. They let out a pump up shout and got in position on the field. Andy jogged to near Sharon and he told her happily, “Ready, babe?”

“You should stay away from me, Andy. I’m the one with the bat and I could accidentally hit you with it.” Sharon threatened him with a glare. She crossed her arms over her chest, her right hand still holding the bat as she stared at Andy. He offered her a puppy dog face and as much as she tried to be mad at him, a smile graced her features.

“See? I knew you aren’t truly angry with me.” Andy teased her with a grin.

“Wait until you find yourself in a hospital bed with a concussion.” Sharon shot back with a smirk.

Andy was nearing her and he stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening. Sharon couldn’t keep a straight face much longer when she saw Andy’s panicked reaction. She chuckled and covered her mouth with a hand. She told him with an eye roll, “I’m joking, Andy.” She looked at him expectantly, but he didn’t move. “Come on, show me how to play, Lieutenant.” Sharon ordered him in a firm tone.

“Let’s keep the Darth energy for when you’ll have to hit the ball, okay?” Andy suggested as he walked to stand behind her.

“Whatever.” Sharon shrugged.

“Okay then, let’s correct your grip on the bat first.” Andy whispered in Sharon’s ear. His body was touching hers and Andy gently moved her fingers, so she could have a better grip. “Now it’s better. Are you comfortable?”

“I am.” Sharon nodded.

Sharon looked in front of her while Andy explained, “When you are hitting the ball put most of your weight on your back foot…” He nudged her back foot with his foot and went on, “Then take a little step forward when you are about to hit the ball.” He moved his hands on both her upper arms as he adjusted her position, “Here, make sure your arms are fully extended. Don’t pull your head out while hitting the ball, just keep it in, okay?”

“Okay.” Sharon replied, her tone not sounding too convinced.

“You can do it, babe.” Andy told her encouragingly as he dropped a kiss to her temple. He jogged away as he told the others, “Hey, let’s start.”

They started playing. Sharon missed the ball twice and she sighed as she was getting ready for the third pitch. Andy jogged in her direction and told her, “Hey, let me help you.”

“I told you Andy, it’s better you all play together without me, I’m not good at it.” Sharon shot back with an irritated tone.

Andy could feel she was getting nervous and he knew she could easily snap at him at the moment. He neared her with a shy smile, “That’s not true, we just have to correct your position a little bit, ‘kay?”

Sharon rolled her eyes at him and Andy gently instructed her, “Okay, look straight in front of you at our fabulous pitcher, Aiden.” He put his hands on both her upper arms as he made her move the bat and her body as if she was going to hit the ball. His hands then moved to her hips and rested on her sides as he gently showed her how to swing her hips. Sharon shivered under his touch and looked down at his hands on her body. Another shiver ran down her spine as she felt his breath behind her ear, “Eyes on the ball, young lady.” Andy whispered to her teasingly.

“Andy, you’re distracting me!” Sharon hissed.

“I am teaching you, babe.” Andy rectified. “And you need to focus.” He added with a grin. “So, ready for that third pitch? Remember to run as fast as you can once you hit the ball.”

“I know that, Andy. I’m not totally clueless, remember?” Sharon told him, arching an eyebrow.

“One last thing: use your Darth energy to hit the ball.” Andy told her with a smirk, “Just think the ball is Provenza’s head or…”

“Or yours.” Sharon cut him short with a grin.

Andy scoffed and jogged away from her. He didn’t go back to his position and stayed close to her. Sharon took a deep breath and looked in front of her with a focused stare. Andy saw the ball coming in Sharon’s direction and his smile grew wider when she finally hit the ball. He followed it with his eyes and noticed it was flying high and far away. “Run, Sharon!” He yelled at her.

Sharon sprinted as fast as she could and she reached the first base. She stopped for a second only to notice that Dean had started running in the direction the ball went and she kept running to the second base. Sharon cursed herself for not being better trained; she wasn’t sure she could keep going at the same pace. She reached the second base when she heard Andy yell, “Go for the home run, babe! Home run!”

Sharon did as Andy suggested and kept running. She could feel she was starting to get out of breath, but she was getting competitive and wouldn’t give up easily. She knew she wasn’t twenty anymore and that she would regret it the next day, but she was too stubborn to even consider to stop. She was reaching home safely and she smiled when she saw Andy waiting for her and cheering. Her husband opened his arms for her and nearly got knocked down to the ground when she threw herself in his arms.

“Home run!!” Andy yelled as he tightened his grip on his wife and span her around. Sharon giggled as she held onto him, her arms locked behind his neck. “You did it, Sharon.” He then whispered in her ear, “I’m so proud of you.”

Andy stopped spinning her around. They stood face-to-face and he gently put back a strand of hair behind her ear. Sharon smiled back at him and leaned in. Andy met her halfway and caught her lips with his in a tender kiss. They pulled back and Sharon stroked his cheek with a wide smile as she whispered to him, “Not now, Andy. There are children watching.”

Andy chuckled and dropped a kiss to her forehead before telling her softly, “You did great, babe.”

“Thank you, honey.” Sharon replied with a teasing smile.

Sharon was about to walk away when Andy caught her hand, “Just one question; was it my head or Provenza’s you thought of when you hit the ball so powerfully?” Andy asked teasingly with a grin on his face.

“What do you think, Lieutenant?” Sharon shot back with a smirk as she joined Aiden and Noah to hug them, leaving Andy speechless.

#Major Crimes #Sharon Raydor #Andy Flynn #Nicole Flynn #Dean and the kids #Baseball #It will be fun #trust me #Sharon x Andy #Shandy #fluff #family #fictober #fictober19 #prompt #fic #fanfiction #ilariawrites

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jemej3m · 5 years ago

Text

the spring-bringer

read on ao3

tw: canon-typical violence, bad representation of greek mythology

“Take the man of spring-time. The one that some call Persephone, some call Andrew.” His father commanded him, via dreams and whispered taunts. “Rid the world of reincarnation. Do this, and you will please me.”

Nathaniel—or, as he had grown more affectionate of—Neil sat up with a gasp.

His chambers were cold and lifeless.

He hated how Chronos held onto him in this way: he was the lord of the Underworld, for fuck’s sake. His father was obliterated into pieces almost intangible, yet he remained unsatisfied. It seemed to fall to Neil’s shoulders to satisfy the Titan, and whilst every fibre of his being recoiled at the memory of his father’s abrasiveness and cruelty, he could not deny his father his dying wish.

“Alright.” He whispered into the silence.

No one answered.

Andrew laid in the soft grass, letting it carry his weight. He was sure to brush his fingers across the swathes, appreciating every blade beneath him.

He understood his nature wasn’t exactly sensical for what he represented, but spring-time wasn’t merely Valentine’s day and blossoming gardens. It was perseverance. It was strength, an endurance of cold and brutal winters, only to return refreshed and anew.

And by the gods, did Andrew persevere.

There wasn’t a tribulation he hadn’t seemed to overcome. Past gods had taken advantage of him, his simpering mother went and offed herself, passing the title of Demeter to a young Spanish boy by the name of Nicky a few centuries ago. The man had deemed himself as Andrew’s substitute mother, he supposed, and certainly fucking acted like it.

Then there was his brother, the demigod Aaron, who rejected his godly half and became immortal anyway. Andrew wished they’d all just died and left him alone to appreciate his occupation, but no. They filled his time with meaningless pursuits and commented upon how easily he angered, how his violence was antithetical to his godly purpose, how his apathy was nothing like the warmth of springtime’s sun.

He merely reminded them with thorns in their palms that nature was nothing to take lightly. They would leave him alone for a few weeks, but they always came back.

Andrew let his head loll, watching as a butterfly with wings of acrylic drips rested upon a dandelion by his hand. His brother and cousin were returning from their travels to vineyards in the southern hemisphere. He’d enjoyed his two months of quiet, but, as always, they were promptly ending.

Spring was quiet, gentle and comforting for Andrew. He wasn’t sure that others would describe him that way, but it didn’t matter. He existed, and thus spring existed, and thus the cycle of life and death continued onwards.

The cycle. That was all Andrew represented.

“Take a meaningful glance at the sky, Persephone.” It wasn’t often someone called him by his proper name. “You may never see it again.”

Before he had even been granted a moment to thank the grass for taking his weight, his limbs were caught and restrained. Colour leaked from his vision, and he fell into an all-encompassing slumber.

When Andrew woke, it was cold. Dark. The surface he was resting upon was along the same theme, and he realised that he was sleeping on the stone-tiled floor. His wrists were chained together with what had to be obsidian, weighing upon his joints like hunger did to his stomach.

He wasn’t in a cell: He was simply chained to the floor of one’s bed chamber. It was extravagantly large but oddly empty, with only a bed and two candles of black flame upon either side. The bed was made, and Andrew realised that he was not alone.

“Good,” The man said. He was hideously tall, with three eyes and hair spiked towards the ceiling. “You are awake. It is regretful to chain you in such a way, but the Lord insisted, in case you were difficult. Shall we greet him?” He bowed slightly. “I am Cerberus, but most know me as Matt.”

Andrew rose an eyebrow. “Are you not meant to be a dog?”

Matt merely laughed. “Only when necessary. Quickly, up now.”

Unsure of how long he had remained unconscious, he took time to steady himself once upon his feet. The cuffs linking his wrists together were grossly heavy and his hands were almost numb when he finally arrived to the Lord’s Court.

Andrew had, of course, assumed it was Hades behind this barbaric capture. Andrew had never met, nor seen Chronos’ final and most fearsome son, but he had heard nothing good. He spoke with spitfire and fearlessness. He was reckless, often merciless. His reclusivity and lack of hospitality were somewhat famous within the murmurings of Olympus’ gossipers.

Andrew supposed one would be like that if they were stuck, ruling the Underworld.

Andrew had also supposed the man would be a little taller, but Andrew wasn’t known for his assumptions being correct. He, of all people, should understand height did not equate to power.

He sat in a tall throne, composed of skulls brushed by fire. He wore simple clothing: jeans from the Aboveworld, a grey t-shirt that had faded with time, and black boots. The only thing that connoted his worth was a black circlet, resting gently upon his fire-licks of auburn hair. A robe and helmet were hung carelessly on the back rivulets of his throne, and the black fire Hades was known for surrounded his chair like a halo.

“Hello,” Andrew said, tone betraying how he was exceedingly bored of the whole debacle. “Lord Hades of the Underworld.”

“Please,” He said, leaning forward. “I would prefer Neil.”

“I detest the word, please.” Andrew shifted on his feet: The chain between his wrists tinkled, reminding him of his position. “And I would prefer that I wasn’t captured, but we can’t all have what we want, can we?”

This man would kill him in a heartbeat. Andrew challenged him like he wanted to die.

Hades'—Neil’s—eyebrow arched.

“If you would be so kind,” Like gods were ever kind. “I’d like passage to the Aboveworld.”

“No.” Neil said. “You’re a man of my court now, Persephone. You obey me, and I have dictated your purpose already.”

“For how long?”

“A full circle of the sun. Then your release may be negotiate, if you are a respectable guest throughout your term.”

A year.

Andrew could almost consider it a vacation.

“Well,” He started. “You might as well begin by calling me Andrew. What is, exactly, the purpose you deigned for me?”

The Lord of the Underworld waved a hand: A second throne appeared, of golden armrests and soft red cushions, next to his own upon the dais where he sat. Simultaneously, the cuffs vanished from around his wrists, and his robes were refurbished. “Plea—Here. Sit. The Court session is about to commence.”

Andrew took a moment to survey the odd situation he had found himself in. He had a chance, perhaps, to flee now. But where would he go? No one had ever escaped the Underworld, not even a god. Andrew would not be the first to attempt it: Nor would he be the first to succeed.

Slowly, he climbed the steps and took his throne.

It was comfortable.

“Enjoying your kidnapping, thus far?” Matt smiled, taking his place at one end of the Court’s long table in preparation for other members to come wafting in.

Andrew didn’t answer, holding his chin high.

The first irritation Andrew discovered was obviously his inability to eat, or drink. Enormous, luxurious feasts were often spread out in front of him, but he couldn’t touch a thing. If he did, he would remain permanently trapped beneath the ground, most likely losing his title of Lord Hades’ pet and becoming the average idiot, meandering through the fields. It was a strange position to be in.

The second irritation was the lack of sun. It made it impossible to decipher the time, and Andrew couldn’t trust any of the clocks within Hades’ palace grounds. They all were slightly off from one another, and whilst the king of the underworld seemed to have a strict internal clock, experienced with a lack of sun, Andrew continually struggled with this shift.

The third, and most confronting irritation, was how careful Neil seemed to be.

Andrew made mild protest to sleeping in the same room as the god of the Underworld: The next day, he was granted a separate room of his own. He made an offhand comment about missing the flora of the Aboveworld, and within hours, Neil was guiding him to a private garden of luxuriously rare and exotic plants, where skeletal ravens perched in the branches and sung their haunting songs.

When it was cold, Andrew was provided with plenty of layers, none being derived of animal skins like that of the Underworld’s inhabitants, including Neil himself. When it was warm, Andrew was given cotton strips of fabric that he was able to wind around his forearms.

He wasn’t sure how Neil knew of his scars, but so long as he was not confronted, he would play along that everyone was none the wiser.

Whilst he hated the idea of being perceived as weak, or as insignificant, his strange, compulsory vacation was—

Not awful.

“Tell me of Nicholas.” Neil said, walking through his garden with Andrew at his side. “Of Aaron. You must truly despise them if you’ve found comfort here.”

Andrew held out his hand, and a withered crow landed upon his finger. “I do not despise them. They simply don’t understand the concept of personal space.”

Neil let out a small huff, which Andrew had come to learn was his laugh. He always made sure to smother it before it could unfold properly, just like he swiped away any smiles. It wasn’t characteristic, Andrew supposed, for the lord of hell to be joyful.

But it wasn’t characteristic of the god of springtime to commit matricide, so it wasn’t like Andrew was in a place to make judgement.

“Do you miss them?” Neil inquired.

“I tell myself I don’t.” The crow flew off. Andrew went back to brushing his hands across the trunks of wrinkled Aspen trees as they walked past, enjoying how they quivered fervently under his hand. Everything responded to him, warmed to him, in a way humans and gods simply couldn’t.

Except Neil, it seemed. He’d warmed quickly, and without question. It was almost endearing.

“I’m sure I’ll wish I’d damned myself down here as soon as I am forced to reunite with them,” Andrew muttered.

Neil’s shoulders seemed to draw upwards “Don’t joke of such things.”

Andrew slanted him a gaze. “Was your purpose in kidnapping me not to keep me for as long as deemed possible?”

“Right.” He nodded, most likely to himself. “Yes. Your fate still rests on your ability to withstand the temptations of the Underworld if you ever wish to return.”

“I know.” He grumbled. “What I wouldn’t do for a glass of water.”

Neil gazed at him pityingly.

They finally arrived to the centre of Neil’s garden, where Andrew rested himself against the trunk of the ever-fruitful pomegranate tree, the ripe fruits dangling from every branch. Andrew basked in the comfortable warmth of the day, the intoxicating scent of paper reducing to ash in a flame. Whilst never clear, like a Cornish breeze, the air down here was never foul. Tobacco, ash, molten rock, wood-fires and hearth-stones wafted daintily on the drafts that carried through the cavernous space.

Neil rested by him. In this garden he allowed himself to be unreserved, his expression relaxed from that typical furrow in his brow, closing his eyes and trusting the walls of his courtyard to protect him from vengeful spirits.

And vengeful spirits were there plenty. Andrew had witnessed Neil’s mercilessness time and time again, but it was always where it was deserved, and never more than what was necessary. He was diplomatic and logical in terms of justice, and it was one of the things Andrew had grown to appreciate the most.

Yet, it never seemed that Neil truly lived for himself.

“I do wish you’d tell me who asked you to bring me down here.” Andrew allowed his head to lean back against the tree.

Neil grew tense once more. “What lead you to that idea?”

“Neil,” Andrew sat up. “Do you take me for a fool? You claim me from the Aboveworld, and by the Old Creeds, I must stay and do your bidding for a full circle of the sun. But you have given me a throne, a room, a garden, and asked for nothing more than my company and occasional slithers of advice. It that how a true captor behaves?”

“You are a god, like myself, Persephone.” Neil reminded him.

“I am no god when compared to you, Hades.” Andrew shifted onto his knees, tipping Neil’s chin upwards with a finger. “Neil. Won’t you tell me?”

His head hung low once more, Andrew’s fingers slipping to hold the back of the man’s neck. They said nothing for a moment, until Neil moved to the stand.

“We must make ourselves presentable.” He straightened his clothes. “I’m afraid our months of peace have drawn to a close.”

“Who dares visit the Underworld?” Andrew demanded. “And don’t think I won’t have my answer, my lord.”

“I hate it when you call me that,” Neil said, smoothing away that smile once more as he directed Andrew back towards their connected chambers. “Is there truly anyone else who dares visit hell, Andrew of springtime? It’s my brothers, of course.”

Andrew gazed upon himself in the mirror, which he did not often use. It had been a long while since he’d truly considered his own appearance, content to let his hair grow long and simply braid it, complacent to allow a Shade to shave his jaw and neck, wearing the same style of garments day after day.

He shouldered a black cloak, dressing in solidarity of Neil, and donning a crown of black-thorned roses atop of his hair, which he had trimmed properly once more. He slid his feet into sandals, another rare occurrence, and he checked his brooches were secure before making haste from his chambers.

He was the last to arrive at the Court, but the visitors had yet to grace themselves with their presence, so he swept by the members of Neil’s advisory to sit upon his throne. It had changed considerably in the approximate six months after his arrival: Flowering vines and thorns twisted around the golden legs and arms, often reaching out and crawling across his skin as he sat.

It was comfortable. It felt natural, to sit at Neil’s side.

Andrew didn’t know what that meant, so naturally, he ignored it.

“Did you cut your hair?” Neil asked, absently.

Andrew arched an eyebrow, and the man’s cheeks pinked.

“It’s very elegant.” He said, before looking forward with anticipation.

The doors burst open with a flourish of wind, and the King of Gods stormed in to address his brother with a ferocious anger, palpable in the electricity and ozone in the air.

“Nathaniel, your attention-seeking continues to out-do itself.” Zeus, the god of the skies, pointed a finger at his brother where Neil sat upon his throne.

It was Zeus and Poseidon that looked alike. Both were tall, and rather strapping, with waves of black hair. Whilst Poseidon was tanned, more lithe, and had astonishing grey eyes, Zeus’s irises of green and broad shoulders defined his menacing presence.

They only shared a mother, after all. Neil’s father was not someone to mention, lest you wished to elicit Neil’s wrath.

The god of the skies, the god of the sea and the god of the dead all stood in one room. Or, more commonly referred as, between the gods, Kevin, Jean and Neil. Nathaniel.

Andrew had never heard someone of Neil’s court call the god that name. He imagined it wouldn’t go too kindly.

“Welcome, Kevin, Jean.” Neil said dryly, bottling up his irritation. “I hope your journey was comfortable.”

All members of the Court arose out of respect of the two visitors. Andrew stayed seated, and Neil snuck him a knowing glance.

“This is ludicrous, Neil.” Kevin snapped. “What on earth were you thinking?”

“I have no time for your childlike petulance.” Neil flapped his hand lazily.

“We have come all this way.” Jean said, quieter. Cautious. “Rather than send Hermes—Allison. Though she does seem to enjoy your company. Could you not spare us a moment free of your scathing tongue?”

“A moment.” Neil promised. “You banished me here and you come here of your own volition: Thus, I dictate every fibre of existence that surrounds you. Don’t test me.”

“Demeter has caused such pernicious droughts with his worrying and fretting that many a human are dying.” Kevin came forward. Nicky, Andrew thought. “He is unable to console himself without Andrew. You took him unlawfully—“

“And there is nothing to undo that. It’s a year, Kevin. Demeter will learn not to take springtime for granted. Gods can die too.”

“You are insufferable.” His brother claimed. “Have I mentioned that?”

“Repeatedly.” Neil said flatly. “Andrew stays and completes his sunless year.”

“I still don’t understand why.” Jean said, calm enough to ask the proper questions.

“Am I not allowed to act of my own volition? He demanded. “Am I so grossly incapable that you deem all my actions of someone else’s?”

“Yes,” Kevin growled, just as Poseidon urged “Sometimes.” They both looked at each other.

“He had six more cycles of the moon until he may free himself, if he lasts.” Neil sighed, cracking his knuckles. Members of his Court winced.

“What has Nicholas done?” Andrew inquired.

“Locked himself away and vowed to not return until you have.” Jean said.

“It’s very dramatic.” Kevin added.

“Obviously. Nicky has a flair for the dramatic.” Andrew crossed his legs upon his throne. “Tell him I’m well.”

“You are?” Kevin remarked.

“Truly.”

Neil’s brothers eyed him with trepidation.

“If that is all,” Neil said icily. “You’re dismissed.”

Kevin bristled at this dismissal, but couldn’t do anything as Matt chaperoned them from the Courtroom. Neil seemed to relax, slumping into the skulls that built the back of his throne.

“Being the object of hatred must be exhausting.” Andrew murmured.

“You’re telling me.” Neil said, reaching out absent-mindedly. “Yes?”

Andrew paused, before nodding. Neil’s obvious request for consent was as perplexing as it was necessary, and a strange and unfamiliar warmth began curling in his chest. Neil reached out once he had been granted permission and brushed a lock of Andrew’s hair away from his eyes, tucking it behind his ear.

It was so oddly affectionate that Andrew found himself frozen. The members of Neil’s Court had turned away out of respect.

When Andrew had first been captured, he’d had a glimmering fear that he would act as Hades’ concubine for a year, that the god heard of Drake’s adventures and took similar action. Andrew was equally frustrated by the thought of having to comply, regardless of his wishes, simply because he was a patron of Hades’ house, and he was unable to deny the lord of his wishes.

Then Neil went and made him an equal, and had not touched him barring the fleeting moments of a hand across the shoulder, at the wrist, across his hip.

Perhaps Andrew had imagined Neil’s affections. The king himself didn’t seem too aware of his own behaviours, afterall.

“Dismissed,” The god called, adjourning the council. Andrew didn’t move.

“Neil,” He tried again, when all was quiet. “Why did you bring me here?”

Neil closed his eyes, hand dropping from where it caressed the shell of Andrew’s ear. Without an answer, he stood, and left Andrew alone, sitting upon his makeshift throne and wondering why destiny had plagued his existence with such ridiculous complexities.

Water was rare in the Underworld, but what Andrew wanted, Andrew got. It lead him and Neil to adventure through the Crevasse, searching for a waterfall that would perfectly capture the light.

It wasn’t long that they found the pool Neil remembered, walking in companionable silence. Andrew passed the drachma from one hand to the other before tossing it through the water.

Renee’s image appeared.

“Iris.” He called. “It’s me.”

She sighed with relief. “I was wondering when you’d call.” She nodded, somewhat apprehensively but respectful all the same. “Lord Hades.”

“Iris.” Neil echoed. “I hope you’re well.”

“And I, you.” She smiled.

“Is it true?” Andrew asked. “Kevin came dicking around about Nicky. Has he truly isolated himself?”

Neil paced slightly away from the conversation, brushing his fingers across the stiffened layers of igneous rock that painted layers of time across the Crevasse’s walls.

“Unfortunately. He is a little better than he was after your capture—an inconsolable wreck for weeks, he was—but he is still rather reluctant. It’s a work in progress.”

Andrew muttered profanities under his breath.

“It’s just his flair for dramatics, Andrew.” Renee assured. “He’s alright, so long as you are. And you are alright.”

“Yes,” He said, glancing towards where Neil had a black fire lit in his palm as he observed small details by his feet. “I am.”

“I am glad.” She said. “I will pass on the message.”

Andrew nodded: Her image faded from the water’s spray.

“Shall we return?” He asked.

Neil glanced at him before ducking his gaze, nodding silently.

Andrew didn’t pay it any mind.

He stood at Tartarus’s edge and felt anger simmering beneath his skin. It was an ancient anger that Andrew was unable to rid himself of, something that defined him and every one of his decisions.

He remembered being younger, a child, an unknowing child, and letting Drake woo him with malicious smiles and hungry eyes. Andrew hadn’t understood mutual consent, and thus he obeyed every word that the man spun, adhered by every tale’s warning, and never fought the man when he demanded Andrew to satisfy his sexual desires.

Hands wrapped around his neck. Aching back. Bloodied sheets. Aaron would care for him, confused by Andrew’s newfound abrasiveness and isolationist tendencies.

Then Andrew had attempted to take his own life, tearing at the skin upon his wrists and forearms with hate-fuelled ferocity, and plummeted the earth into a years-long winter whilst he recovered in seclusion, fearful and angry and ashamed.

Drake was sent into Tartarus’ sprawling pit by his own demand, a necessary end to a horrific childhood.

Whispers drew Andrew closer to the edge. If he had been in a period of his self-loathing, perhaps he would feel compelled to throw himself into the abyss.

As it was, he had merely four months until his untimely return to the Aboveworld. It seemed like a waste to have endured the thirst and starvation, the sunlessness, the enticing and amiable company of the lord of the Underworld, just to damn himself even further.

As if summoned by thought, Neil approached him with slow, careful steps.

“You were very close to the edge.” Neil murmured.

“It reminds me of what fear feels like.”

Neil looked at him. “I thought I would see you here earlier that this. As a spirit, rather than a hostage.”

“As did I.” The scars were hidden beneath their cotton strappings, as usual, but Neil looked to them and understood, without question nor demand.

Neil was most perplexing like that.

He took Andrew’s hand by the wrist, and gently pressed it up beneath the thin layer of his cotton t-shirt. Beneath it was the hideous landscape of someone tormented and tortured.

“I understand,” Neil said. “I know. You don’t have to hide your past here.”

It made sense, then, to fold into Neil’s open embrace. But he was the god of the afterlife, and Andrew was the god of reincarnation. It couldn’t make sense. It wouldn’t make sense.

And yet, Andrew let himself savour in the fleeting moment, eyes closed as he pulled Neil’s head to the crook of his shoulder.

“Persephone,” Matt called, rapping a knuckle upon Andrew’s door. “Lord Hades requests your audience.”

Andrew craned his neck to gaze upon the door, curious. It was late in the Underworld’s form of evening and he was beginning to settle himself into bed, stretching out across his linen sheets and ridding himself of his thoughts.

It was rare that anyone disturbed him after he retreated to his room. In fact, this would be the first moment.

Matt knocked again, so Andrew hauled himself upright and drew on a robe, answering the door.

“Tell him I’ll be a minute.” He muttered, rubbing his eye.

Matt grinned in that wolf-like manner of his. “Don’t keep the king of the Underworld waiting.” And with that, he left, sauntering down the corridor with a tune coming from his puckered lips.

Andrew redressed himself, pinning his drapery with the brooches Nicky had gifted him eons ago, before slipping free of his chambers and shifting down the dimmed corridors.

Neil’s room was unlocked, but Andrew knocked before entering, so as to warn the man of his arrival. Neil was sat upon the edge of his bed, fiddling with a small charm that hung from a silver chain. It was his black fire, contained by impenetrable glass, the perfect elliptical shape for resting at the hollow of someone’s throat.

Neil stood at Andrew’s appearance.

“You called?” He inquired.

“I—well, yes. Here.” He held up the necklace. “For you. No curse, nor debt attached. It’s a gift.”

Andrew’s very own black-flamed hearth. Andrew let him attach the clasp, fingers brushing gently against the exposed skin of his neck.

Andrew’s fingertips flitted across his exquisite jawbone, tilting his head down.

“I hate you.” He decided, resolutely.

Neil was unfazed. “As one should hate their captor, yes.”

But was Neil truly his captor?

Andrew kissed the man. He couldn't help it.

He was more lively than his kingdom in every sense of the word, skin hot, sucking in a quivering gasp as his hands fisted themselves in his own garments, avoiding touching Andrew with such perfect restraint that it caused Andrew’s heart to ache.

He had never met a god of such caliber. One that responded perfectly to Andrew’s every ministration, one that understood suffering so acutely, one that regarded Andrew with utmost respect.

When they parted, Neil’s cheeks had gained a high flush and his eyes—his glorious, ice-blue eyes—revealed his dazed composure.

“Attend to me.” He whispered.

Andrew was bound by old creeds to obey Neil’s every word, but he would be lying to himself if he insisted he didn’t want to. Neil wore, as usual, his simple shirt and simple trousers, and whilst Andrew enjoyed relieving him of these garments, he entertained the fantasy of ridding Neil of his royal robes, a pulled tie causing swathes of fabric to drop to the ground.

His silk sheets were decadent under Andrew’s fingertips, and Neil let him bow over his exposed body whilst fully dressed, like Andrew held any semblance of power, like he wasn’t trapped in the Underworld as a victim.

Neil made it so easy to forget that.

Andrew was pretty sure he was the only man to have ever conquered Neil’s bed, and lavished in the way his lean body arched and elongated after the fact. His scars were faded with time, distorted by muscular development and growth. The smatterings of freckles, the trail of hair down his navel, the irresistibly delicate wrists and fingers culminated to something so beautiful that Andrew almost couldn’t bear to look at it.

Neil didn’t dare touch him, but his ghosts’ hands felt like slick oil upon his skin. He couldn’t bear Neil’s presence any longer. As he retreated, Neil only gave him a quizzical look, not questioning Andrew’s reluctance aloud.

“Good night, Hades.” He said.

Neil settled into his pillows, looking marvellously ravished. I did that. Andrew reminded himself.

“Good night, Persephone.”

With his gifted black hearth, and Neil’s desperate kisses upon his lips, he retreated.

It continued like that for weeks. Months, perhaps. Andrew lost track of time again, simply because he couldn’t care for it. He took Neil to bed every night and let the images satisfy himself afterwards in the privacy of his own chambers. He let Neil’s fingertip trace the cuff of his ear, and took to grasping Neil by the wrist, by the back of his neck. Often, he found himself sitting beneath the decadent pomegranate tree with Neil’s head pillowed in his lap, letting his fingers comb through those infernal curls.

Andrew had not brought up who had cajoled Neil into capturing him, so long as Neil did not bring up his departure. It was cruel that as soon as Andrew had found a rhythm, had found peace, that he would be torn from it to continue his duties Aboveground.

Even worse was the knowledge that his Hades would be criticised and punished for his capture, when it couldn’t have been Neil’s desire to do so.

He didn’t want to leave, but if Neil were to force him to stay, the retaliation would be unjust and cruel. It was best that Andrew returned, for both of them.

His favourite crow wandered over, nuzzling like a cat against Neil’s cheek with a titter of its song.

“It senses your sadness.” Andrew said. “Your exhaustion.”

“Sleep doesn’t come easily, now.” Neil admitted. “It never did, but—now more than ever. Prophecies and visions and disorder and needless suffering jolt me from my weak dozes.”

“You are withholding the truth from me.” Andrew frowned.

Neil sighed. “I try not to.”

Andrew brushed his fingers across the sharp curve of Neil’s cheekbone, and wondered when their peace would be sullied.

“You should not have brought me here.” He said.

Neil closed his eyes, as if to prevent tears spilling from the corners of his eyes. “I know.”

It was the eve of Andrew’s departure. His fate had been decided: His behaviour had granted him his freedom. He’d not savoured in a morsel of food, a droplet of drink. He would walk free from the Underworld in the morning, greet his brother and his cousin, and never see the fields of lost souls, the black-lit candles that lined the palace corridors, the ghastly beautiful branches of the trees in Neil’s garden, or the blackbirds that perched upon them.

He was sorry to leave. He had relearned many a different emotion and state of self in Neil’s subterranean kingdom. Tranquility, sorrow, empathy and censure.

He continued like it was any other day, but there was a tinge of desperation to their kisses as they fell into Neil’s bed. It was the same dance they’d done every day, but Andrew was astounded to discover it never grew old, that the caress of Neil’s knuckle and his cries of ecstasy sent shivers down Andrew’s spine every time.

Andrew lingered a little longer, sighing into Neil’s feeble kisses and relaxing into the careful hands upon his shoulders, in his hair.

Don’t leave, Neil mouthed silently into Andrew’s jaw.

And for the first time, Andrew didn’t want to. Didn’t feel the need to. He relaxed downwards till he found himself laid beside Neil’s languid form, letting his fingers trail up and down Neil’s side. A cold draft swept into the room, so Neil fumbled into a soft robe before nestling against Andrew’s side once more. Andrew let Neil’s head rest upon his chest, and watched with unreservedness as the king of hell fell asleep to the unruly palpitations of his heart.

He couldn’t sleep like this, but he was the furthest thing from tired. Instead, he combed Neil’s hair and gazed into space, content to ignore the fact of his departure.

In the early hours of the morning, he dozed off: An impossible but true occurrence. He would have dwelled upon it for hours upon wakening, except he found himself in Neil’s bed, cold and without the man himself present.

Andrew placed an up-turned hand onto Neil’s pillow, onto where his body had curled amongst his sheets. All warmth had leaked from it, and the lifeless mattress and its silken sheets suddenly revolted him.

He clambered to his feet before marching back to his room with a strange urgency. It wasn’t the first time guards had witnessed Andrew come from Neil’s room—nor were they allowed to judge the behaviour of two gods—but the time that had passed and Andrew’s sleep-rumpled state suggested something far more intimate, in every way, shape and form.

He quickly dressed himself and went in search of Neil, to question why he’d left, to see if he had gotten himself into trouble, to say goodbye—it didn’t matter. Andrew had such a burning need to see the man that his hands shook with the urge, the black hearth within his necklace pendant pulsating like that of a second heart.

The throne room was empty, not a single guard nor advisor milling about. It was early, but there was never an empty room in the Underworld. Matt, the hound who could sense one’s confusion a mile away, did not appear. Andrew grit his teeth and, not for the first time, wished he had his knives to arm himself properly.

He found himself, as always, wandering through the garden. It always took a little while to reach its centre, but Andrew carried on with a quick pace, sensing the garden’s fear. The birds were silent and the leaves shook with apprehension.

“Finally, he joins us.”

Andrew’s anger rose in his chest like bile to the throat.

The foul Malcom monster was stood above Neil’s figure menacingly, a ferocious grin upon one face and cool indifference upon the other. At their feet lay Hades, a crumpled heap, and for a moment Andrew thought he was dead.

Neil’s hands were chained behind his back, linking his wrists and ankles together. He seemed otherwise unharmed. His head rose up at the presence of another being and distorted with agony. “Andrew, no. Leave. You must—!”

“Absolutely not.” Lola said as she kicked his limp frame, her lips stained red with blood. “I always play with my food before I consume it. Savour every bite, you know. Isn’t your pathetic little spring-bringer cute, Nathaniel?”

Romero let out a cold laugh. The two-headed being stepped over Neil’s lifeless form—what was wrong with him? Why wasn’t he fighting?—to approach Andrew. He ducked and avoided their clumsy swings, nipping through the garden’s nooks and crannies. He knew every blade of grass in this garden. He had the upper hand.

Neil let out a blood-curdling scream where he was curled upon the floor.

“What are you doing to him?” Andrew demanded as the Malcom monster charged towards him.

“Us? Nothing.” Romero sneered. “His father’s very disappointed in his failure to comply with his wishes. Useless runt. Brought you down here, ensnared you for a year as your father wished, but didn’t have the heart to finish the job.”

With a careless flick of their hand, Andrew was flung into the trunk of the pomegranate tree. He slumped down, and the Malcoms assumed he was subdued enough to turn their attention onto Neil. Neil cried out for Andrew, but couldn’t control his own body with his father controlling his mind.

“Useless runt.” Lola echoed. “I will savour it when our Lord possesses us and finally rids the world of little Junior. Caused enough hassle, haven’t you, Nathaniel? Cleaning up, you call it. You’re simply throwing the most resourceful of us into Tartarus to rot.” Andrew was sure that when she said resourceful, she meant the most sadistic.

“Good.” Neil gasped, struggling onto his knees once more. “That’s where they’ll stay.”

“Not if I can help it.”

Andrew watched with thinly-veiled horror as the two heads of the Malcom monster began talking simultaneously with a haunting, echoing quality. Their eyes were emblazoned by red fire, the veins beneath their skin running gold.

“Father,” Neil murmured. “You’ve returned.”

“Not quite. I will eviscerate this body to ashes in a matter of minutes: They are loyal servants, the Malcoms, but too weak.” He said. “You certainly strung the fibres of my being far enough that I will never be able to regain my true form. However, I will most certainly take pleasure in replacing you within yours.”

“No,” Neil croaked.

“I asked one thing of you, son.” Nathan bent down to tilt Neil’s chin upwards. “Rid the world of reincarnation. Of spring. And you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You, the god of the defeat, couldn’t defeat your own desires. Pathetic.”

Neil’s head flung back as he shrieked. Welts formed on his cheeks as blood spilled from cuts on his arms, his wrists. Andrew could not see a weapon in the Titan’s hand, and yet he was carving Neil to pieces regardless.

Neil’s scream dug into Andrew’s chest: He pulled himself to his feet, grasping onto the branches of the pomegranate tree. Neither Hades nor his father noticed his movements.

A supple fruit was pulled from its branch: With shaking hands, Andrew tore it open, and fisted the first pocket of seeds that he could.

Nothing had ever tasted so sweet, so divine, as those seeds. He dropped the fruit to the floor, garnering the attention of both Nathan and his ruined son.

“He didn’t fail.” Andrew said, spitting six seeds out into his palm and offering them to Nathan. “The Aboveworld has been ridded of springtime. Now, leave.”

“Andrew, no. No!” Neil croaked. “You didn’t—“

“It’s too late.” Nathan laughed, grinning across two faces and speaking with two voices. “You’ve done well, my son.”

With that, the body off the Malcom monster and Neil’s restraints spontaneously combusted, leaving nothing but a smoking pile of ash that was carried off in the warm breeze.

“Oh, Persephone,” Neil whispered. “What have you done?”

“Andrew!” Nicholas cried, a weeping mess of eccentricities and dramatics. Despite being on opposing sides of the River Styx, Andrew could smell him: The slick scent of rain after a summer storm, the crisp wheat harvests of late July. He wore his characteristic jean overalls and his straw hat, and clutched at Andrew’s brother with desperate hands.

“Hades,” Kevin called. “What is the meaning of this? What happened to your face?” The scars had faded with the god-like tendency to heal within moments, but the remnants of Neil’s father would stay visible forevermore.

“Neil didn’t call you here.” Andrew said, stepping forward. “I did.”

Kevin glanced at Jean as they shared a frown.

“Neil didn’t take me unjustly. He’s still under the ministrations of Chronos.”

There was a collective pause at the name.

“Chronos no longer exists.” Athena said slowly, stepping forward from where she stood beside Iris. Danielle and Renee were their commoner names, but neither were particularly fussed about it.

Andrew always forgot how much he missed Iris until he saw her again, her pastel hair, her gentle smiles and the subliminal didactic purpose of every visit.

“Almost,” Neil said, almost too quiet to hear. “I did my very best to obliterate his being, but he had some sort of grasp upon me. I struggle to fight it.”

“And he told you to capture Persephone.” Hermes guessed, her interest captured long enough to neglect fixing her nails, her hair.

“And kill him.” Neil agreed. “But I wouldn’t. Couldn’t. So he possessed the form of the Malcom monster to rid me.”

There was a collective discomfort at the mention of the two-headed beast.

“It was my sacrifice or Neil’s.” Andrew said. “So I consumed six pomegranate seeds. The old fucker vanished as soon as his purpose was complete.”

“You what?” Nicky shrieked. “Andrew!”

“No springtime?” Hermes pondered. “No, that won’t work. It simply won’t.”

The gods of the three realms gazed upon one another. It was them who orchestrated the creeds, the rules by which all gods and men lived by, but if one exception was made, then others would follow, and chaos would ensue.

“Neil,” Andrew murmured. “The law is the law.”

“I can’t let you stay.” He whispered.

It was tragic. Neil had come to clung onto Andrew, had truly learned to care for him and favour him above all else. It was why he had to let Andrew go.

“He simply cannot escape without consequence.” Kevin argued. “There would be chaos. Debts and sentences must paid to keep order. To make an exception for Persephone would lead to the destruction of our existence.”

Andrew gazed upon Nicky, who finally opened his eyes. He was such a sorrowful man that Andrew had to look away: The pain in his gaze was simply too potent to withstand.

“But to have him stay is to play into my father’s ploy.” Neil argued.

“It’s chaos either way.” Dan advised. “Neither option is strategic, nor viable.”

“Commentary is not a solution.” Jean said wryly.

“A compromise,” Matt suggested, winking his third eye at Andrew. “He ate six seeds, one for every month he should stay in the Underworld.”

“Yes,” Dan murmured, gazing at Cerberus with newfound appreciation. “Yes. The seasons will fluctuate with his presence, and it is neither complete freedom nor complete absence.” She looked between Zeus, Poseidon and Hades. “I agree with the mutt. It is the most logical compromise.”

“It’s Matt.” Matt supplied. Athena made a face. “But thanks.”

“So it is decided.” Nicky made a squeal of relief, clapping his hands together at Zeus’ proclaimed acceptance. “Andrew will split his time between the Aboveworld and the Underworld and foil Chronos’ meddling plans for chaos and destruction.” Zeus stood straight once more. “Shall we agree upon it, brother?”

“This is the most cordial agreement we have ever decided upon.” Neil said, with a hint of laughter to his tone, as he composed a bridge to meet with Kevin in the middle. They shook hands.

Jean looked to Andrew with an offered hand. “Come, now. You must be desperate for some fresh air.”

“Not quite.” Andrew said. “I believe my coronation is to be scheduled soon, is it not?”

Neil looked at him, baffled. “What?”

“You didn’t think I would stick around to meander by your side, did you?” Andrew shook his head. “I already have my throne and my crown. All I need is my title.”

“Quite.” Neil’s smile was blindly and Andrew's heart faltered. Yes, this is how I would like to spend eternity. Basking in the light of that smile. “Well, husband-to-be. Shall we?” He offered his arm. Andrew nestled his hand into the crook of Neil’s elbow as the crowd watched, baffled.

“We shall.” Andrew said.

What a compromise indeed.

what a mess lol

#andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #greek myth au #hades!neil #persephone!andrew #jem writes

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something-fanfiction-ie · 7 years ago

Text

A Pair of Fans

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: Creepy guy follows you for like 2 paragraphs but you get a happy ending. Pinky promise.

A/N: I am so sorry this took so long to write, you guys! I’ve been hitting a writing wall like crazy and my life has just been a little hectic. This was a little rushed because I’ve been trying to get it out to you guys but I also have to leave for work in about an hour. Thank you so much for your patience and your love, I appreciate you guys. You’re the best. Remember to let me know what you think. Like, comment, reblog, message me, inbox me, I’m really friendly. I promise. @petah-parkah-and-potahtas and @i-am-lame-leave-me-alone

| part one: Fangirl | part two: Fanboy |

___

In the end, you met Tom by accident.

It was your last night in London and you decided to pull your lazy ass off the fancy hotel couch to wander the potentially dangerous London streets. The faults of your plan didn’t fully hit you until the street lights turned on and your phone died. Here you were, all alone, lost in the most unfamiliar of settings.

Which way was the way back to the hotel? The GPS had said to head south on this certain stretch of road before your phone had died, and that information would have been helpful if you knew which way was south. Why had Jason agreed to let you go out alone? In London.

Your current mission was to find a phone booth. You knew your mom’s phone number by heart and she could get in touch with Jason to come get you. She would be mad and you would never live down the time you got lost in London, but at least you wouldn’t be dead in some back alley.

Thankfully, the road you were on wasn’t very populated so you decided to walk with your hood down. If you bumped into a fan or two you wouldn’t mind. It was still a surreal feeling whenever someone came up to you and recognized you.

As you walked, the night grew darker and you couldn’t help but be paranoid about the guy walking several paces behind you. Hunching your shoulders, you glanced behind you and the predatory look on his face was enough to make the hair on the back of your neck raise.

You quickened your pace and took a sharp and sudden left through an alley which, thankfully, led to another street instead of your untimely doom. Still keeping your gaze behind you, you payed no mind to the road in front of you.

Never in all your wildest dreams did you ever think you would run smack dab into Tom Holland. Of course, you didn’t realize it was him until a little later. He was more solid than you would have imagined and he was warm. Almost like running straight into an open toaster oven. Or maybe you were just cold?

You grabbed very muscular biceps to keep yourself from falling on your ass and let out the smallest of surprised ‘Oh!’s known to man-kind. He responded with a grunt, ‘Oof.’ It was deep, not at all how you would think a Tom Holland ‘oof’ would sound.

You should have let go at this point, apologize for not paying attention, and maybe try to explain the situation. That’s what you would usually do, but when you heard footsteps echoing off the brick walls behind you, you abandoned all regards for societal norms.

You let go of the stranger’s biceps and threw your arms around him in a big hug, tilting your head at just the right angle to see the man slow his steps.

Showtime.

“Peter! I can’t believe I found you! I was so lost and my phone died. I’m sorry we fought, I promise to never walk away from you again.” Queue the tears and the sniffles. You buried you head into a chest that, thankfully, smelled amazing. Please just go along, please just go along. Arms circled your back and pulled you close. A strangely familiar American voice spoke back.

“Don’t worry, babe. Just calm down and let’s head back to the hotel. Yeah?” More footsteps except this time, they were receding. Your heart about burst with absolute joy. You stayed like that, encompassed in a stranger’s comforting embrace for what felt like eternity.

Once you both deemed the coast clear, you pulled back and almost chocked on your own spit in shock. Tom Holland stood in front of you, his curls a little disheveled and his cheeks a bit flushed, wearing a black shirt and jeans. His mouth dropped as the realization dawned on him.

He was standing in front of (Y/N) (Y/L/N).

You were standing in front of Tom Holland. Covering your mouth, you stared at him with wide eyes. When you finally spoke, you sounded like the stupidest person to ever exist.

“I thought you were American!” You were pointing your index finger at his chest. His very solid, warm, nice-smelling chest that you had buried your face into just moments ago. You were going to have a full blown anxiety attack from the sheer absurdity of the situation.

He smirked now, “I am not. It was just acting, darling.” Your heart fluttered. He just called you darling. How many times had you YouTubed compilations of him saying that to imagine him saying it to you? Enough to know that it never sounded like this, all breathless and heated and flirty.

He extended his hand and you watched as a little bit of the fanboy from the Jimmy Fallon interview brightened his eyes. “It’s lovely to finally meet you. I am a huge fan.”

You took his hand a little awkwardly, afraid to show just how much you were freaking out. “Likewise.”

“So where are you headed?”

“Brown’s Hotel.” He raised his eyebrows and informed you that you were going in the very wrong direction, Brown’s Hotel was the opposite direction. You laughed a little nervously, scratching the back of your neck as you explained your embarrassing situation. He laughed, shaking his head and squinting his eyes in the most adorable show of amusement you’d ever witnessed.

As you walked back, your shoulders bumping each other’s every once in a while, you talked about everything you could. When was the next time you would be able to walk the sparsely populated streets of a foreign country with your all time celebrity crush?

“What in the world made you choose Peter for a name?” He joked, looking down at you as he steered you around a corner. His hand lightly gripped the back of your lower bicep, sending electricity through your nervous system. If this was a Disney Pixar movie, the alarms in your head would be blaring as your emotions ran wild.

“It was the first name to come to mind. And I’m a huge Spider-Man fan.” You shrugged, self consciously tucking your hands deep into your pockets. Peeking at him through the corner of your eyes, you caught his gaze long enough to spike your heart rate. Which was already dangerously high.

The subject changed a billion different times, sometimes one of you would let a fan moment slip and the two of you would laugh.

Like when Tom said, “Your acting was seamless and beautiful. You weren’t even the lead and still you got the most attention for the movie! Somehow you managed to convey so many things with just facial expressions and body language and it was insane, as a fellow actor, to watch you. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought you were really your character and-“ he cut himself off, his cheeks a preciously dark pink.

“I’m sorry, I’m geeking a little.” The both of you laughed and he got to witness you geek a little later, gushing about his portrayal of a character you grew up with.

“To actually see this Peter as a teenager, and I mean a real teenager, it was refreshing. Tobey and Andrew did great, don’t get me wrong. They’re both amazing actors, but I just feel like you were the most accurate teenage Peter that has ever been on screen. I love watching you.” It took you a second to realize what exactly you had just said and immediately you tried to correct yourself, but Tom didn’t hear a word of it as his laughter roared through the street.

By the time you got to Brown’s, you didn’t want to leave. You stood awkwardly at the elevator doors, shuffling your feet and trying to make sure that no one recognized Tom. He had his back to the main lobby but it still felt a bit risky.

“Well...” He looked at you with the biggest brown eyed puppy dog look you’d ever seen. It twisted your heart a million different ways inside your chest.

“Well...” You repeated. It was quiet for just a beat and then he said the most precious thing.

“Would you mind if I hugged you goodbye?” Without replying, your threw your arms around him. It felt natural, your body pressed to his like this. His arms pulled you close and he buried his head into your hair.

The moment was so dream-like, that you were completely unaware of the sound of the elevator opening behind you until the people inside started speaking.

“Tom Holland!” He jerked up, catching sight of the three paparazzi behind you. As if it was somehow possible, he pulled you closer in a very intimately protective manner. His body felt rigid against you. You were frozen in place.

“Who is the girl?!” They all started asking, and somehow it felt like you were being swarmed in a mob with their thousand of questions flying at the two of you like daggers. Tom managed to evade both their questions and them by shuffling the two of you into the elevator and evil eyeing them out.

When the doors closed, he let you go and gave you an awakward smile.

“Going up?” After he walked you to your room and you said your goodbyes, a bit reluctantly, you slipped inside. He hadn’t even asked for your number, or if he could see you again. You didn’t try to deny the sadness that thought brought.

Until you shoved your hands into your jacket pocket, ready to march into the bedroom and find your charger so you could cry to your mom. Your hand brushed against something, and when you pulled it out, you realized it was a card. Spider-Man was on the front, the famous picture of him laying on his back in front of the New York skyline.

Flipping it to the back, you burst into giddy laughter.

Tom Holland

Peter Parker aka Spider-Man

Just beneath that was his phone number and social media accounts. At the very bottom, in hurried handwriting was a small sentence.

“I’ve been hoping to run into you.”

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virmillion · 6 years ago

Text

And They Were Roommates

i know i said hiatus but i crapped this out in one go in my phone notes app and it’s not edited but i mean,, i think it’s funny and that’s what matters,,,,, right?

words: 1551

warnings: some swears, sarcastic first person author

Roman stretches his legs out, flexing his feet and pushing his hands into his thighs. “This plane,” he announces, “is too damn crowded, and I am too damn long.” Beside him, Logan stirs, dropping his fancy schmancy neck support pillow on the ground. “That floor is too damn dirty.” Logan swats Roman’s arm and retrieves the pillow with a sigh. “You are too damn violent.”

“I could very easily leave you at the airport,” Logan says. His eyes leverage themselves somewhere around Roman’s nose, crossed enough to be out of focus. “Where did you put my glasses?”

Roman definitely doesn’t scoop the glasses (that he stole) out of his bag (that used to be Logan’s), and he definitely doesn’t place them upside down on Logan’s face (which looks remarkably angry right now). “There ya go, buddy!”

“Fix them.”

Roman definitely doesn’t let a few more curse words peter out in varying languages (that he learned from Logan’s textbooks (that he also stole)). Like the true and kind friend he is, he readjusts the glasses so Logan no longer has to squint, and can instead glare comfortably at Roman.

“This is your captain speaking, please note the seatbelt lights have been turned on. Kindly take your seats for the remainder of this flight, return your trays to their locked position, and buckle up. Thank you for riding with—”

“DEMON!”

“—airlines.”

Logan huffs another sigh at Roman for his outburst. “Was that really necessary?”

“If John Mulaney doesn’t like them, neither do I,” Roman says, heartily ignoring the miffed looks on the faces of the people surrounding him. “Better out than in, I always say.”

“First of all, that’s not even a relevant quote, and second, Shrek? Really?” Nudging his glasses higher on his nose, Logan sets about tucking everything into his carry on bag. With a considerable jolt to the plane, the neck pillow goes flying (in the plane that’s already flying (flying squared (flared))).

By the time the plane finally scrapes onto the track at the airport, Logan is remarkably close to punching Roman (not that he hasn’t already). “What is going on with you today? You don’t typically act this strange on flights, in my experience.”

“I also don’t typically have to meet my roommate after exiting said flight. We all have feelings, Logan, so get used to it.” Roman tugs his suitcase from the baggage claim, flippantly swinging it over his head with (pretty much no) consideration for his fellow humans. (Whether a few middle fingers raise to greet him is TBD (totally believable dude.))

“This Angel character sounded perfectly fine over the computer. I doubt you’ll encounter any problems, and even if you do, I’ll be there as a buffer.” Logan puts a little more care into grabbing his own luggage, trailing Roman into the streets. “If anything, you ought to consider yourself lucky for finding someone seemingly normal in a creative major.”

“What’s your beef with writing majors? Do they get all up in your grill?” To say this earns a smack from Logan is an understatement (but detailing exactly how pink the resulting handprint is might get this story flagged (gotta keep it safe for the kiddos, you know)).

“Just keep moving, I’ll make sure we don’t get lost.”

The reds and yellows of the trees pepper the sky like so many fireworks, slicing interruptions through the cloudless field of blue. Roman grins, rolling his shoulders forward to hitch his hoodie higher up (which he definitely didn’t buy online (with patches to match his school mascot and colors (because that would be nerdy))). With the barely-there breeze trumpeting autumn’s arrival, he can almost smell the crisp bite of chilled apples in woven baskets (he spends a lot of time at cider mills). Logan allows himself the smallest trace of a smile at how much Roman seems to enjoy himself, soaking up what little sun there is. At the sight of his soon-to-be campus looming a few blocks ahead, Roman lets out a whoop (which may or may not annoy the little old ladies near him (with their little yapping dogs (that have little sparkling bows (that still don’t outshine Roman’s little sparkling awe)))).

“Look, Logan, there it is! There’s the prison that I’m gonna inhabit of my own volition, where I’ll have a roommate that might pour whipped cream on my pants or put warm water on my hand! The possibilities are endless!”

Deciding to ignore the not-quite-correct pranks Roman’s dreamed up, Logan grabs his friend by the hand and yanks him back from the crosswalk. The little old ladies with their little yapping dogs snicker as a pickup truck tears through the traffic light, honking the whole way. Roman offers them his best award-winning smile, blissfully unaware of the bits of chocolate smeared over his teeth (not to mention the frappucino stains on his upper lip (of which there are many (Roman hasn’t brushed his teeth in a while))).

“—on the sixth floor, which really sucks because I was so close to having the devil’s number, you know? Would’ve been awesome, shoulda coulda woulda, yeah?”

Once Logan finally catches up to Roman (who definitely didn’t sprint through the next two traffic stops (or to the front desk (where he definitely didn’t hassle the lady (who is now pleading with her eyes at Logan (who wants no part of this))))), he slings his carry on bag to the floor with a grunt. “You could’ve waited for me.”

“I could’ve done a lot of things, just like I was telling Alice—”

“Lisa.”

“—Lisa here, because there’s just never enough time, you know?”

Logan slips a five over the counter to the tired lady, who accepts it with a nod. “Just get him to his room and we’ll call it a day.”

“Thank you so much, I’ll get right on that. Roman, if you don’t sling your butt up those stairs right this second, I will personally ensure that Angel defenestrates you.” (Roman thinks that defenestration is the act of tearing down rainforests (Logan has never bothered to correct him (he finds this hilarious (Roman does not)))).

Having sprinted to the top of the stairs, Roman easily beats Logan to the room, feeling remarkably similar to a king in his wonder at swiping a card to open a door (he’s not actually a king (but you knew that (his last name is Andrews (which you didn’t know (I didn’t even know that until writing this (I made it up for shits and giggles)))))). The two bunks, which are spaced as far apart as possible, border a room on the edge of chaos (or glory (which one it is depends on your perspective (and on your knowledge of catchy songs from the twenty first century))). The one closest to the window proudly displays a collection of purple and black blankets, as well as an absurd amount of pillows (anywhere from ten to ninety (take your pick (it’s probably closer to ninety))). Nestled in the mountain of cushions is a lanky boy, who lets out a wholly disgusted grown as Roman walks in.

“I cannot believe my luck. Roman, you walking piece of literal human garbage, I’m supposed to be rooming with someone named Philip.” The boy shoves himself off the bed, revealing a second boy underneath. “See, Patton, I told you I had a bad feeling about this.”

“Virgin? The man himself, I can’t believe it! You signed up with a fake name, too?”

Logan sighs as the second person (Patton, evidently) unfolds themselves from Pillow Mountain. “Care to explain?”

“Both of our friends signed up with abstract nicknames for some reason. Pretty funny, if you ask me.” (Logan didn’t ask him (okay, technically he did, but not about whether it was funny (he only wanted the facts (he did not get ‘only the facts.’))))

(This is the part where I, the author, am supposed to elaborate on the goofy hijinks that ensue (I don’t really feel like doing that (so just pretend I did and move on (long story short, Virgil and Roman were childhood friends that grew apart and met back up.))))

“Well, I guess I’ll see you on my next vacation, then?” Patton wraps Virgil in a tight hug (but not the other way around (because I don’t want to get bashed for writing people out of character)) before slipping out the door with Logan in tow. Roman turns to Virgil in their now-empty room, surrounded by boxes to be unpacked.

“I cannot believe we both lied about our names and ended up rooming together,” Roman says, sitting on his suitcase. “That is wild.”

“Right, and it’s definitely not fate. Don’t even get started with that fate nonsense on me, because I won’t have any of it.” Virgil pulls an appropriately moody pout and leans on the window, staring forlornly at the night sky (because that’s all he seems to do anymore (just give him something to brood over and that’s Virgil, let’s be honest (because I don’t feel like tossing in another nonsensical problem to be solved with romance here))).

“And it’s definitely not fate that brought us back together when our last game of tag ended with me being 'it’.”

Virgil whips his head around. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Roman cocks an eyebrow. “Try me.”

———-

Taglist:

@sakurahayasaki @erlenmeyertrash @lemonpepperpizza @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @milomeepit @leesacrakon @virgilmood @mollycassmith @zerogettie @five-hour-anxiety @ashrain5 @allthemetalsoftherainbow @faacethefacts @rileyfirstname @sassy-in-glasses @virgil-has-a-houseplant @redundant-statements-for-400 @zennyo @extremistwateragenda @breloomings @jamthefan @narniasfinestavengingsociopath @crownswriter123

#sanders sides #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #platonic logince #labhwrites #mine #swearing tw #y'all honestly the title has basically nothing to do with the story but i don't really care?#i got completely off track wherein it was gonna be virgil on the plane swearing #that's how far off track i got #and to those of you who have this as a follow up to bxbble txa... sorry to disappoint?#i love stories where the author talks directly to the audience #not sure i really did it justice but i think it's funny #there was one by someone who did it for logans birthday #tsfxnxrt i think it was? but with the letter A not the letter X bc i don't want to inaccurately tag this #so yeah this concludes the hiatus i guess #again sorry this isn't the Best Comeback but that's fine probably #one more tag so it's a nice round twenty tags aaaaannnnnnnndddddddd *boop*

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mycasandstarrs · 6 years ago

Text

SPN 10x05: “Fan Fiction”

As a former theatre kid, this episode brings me so much joy.

“Ghost? Meet Winchester.”

There’s our girl!

“Where is the Samulet?”

“Oh! I took it off. It kept hitting me in the lips, and...”

“That amulet is the symbol of the Winchesters' brotherly love!”

!!!

“There is too much drama in the drama department.” Well...yeah.

“Why couldn't they just do ‘Godspell’ like good little skanks ? Instead it's this... awful, unbelievable horror story. Hmm! Like that stuff really happens! Huh, theater is about life, you know? Truth! Truth! Where is the truth in ‘Supernatural’?”

What the fuck kind of teacher is this??

I had a theater teacher who told us theatre was magic. I think she would’ve liked Marie’s play about Supernatural.

There she goes.

“I mean, it's close, but it's just.... It needs a little more grrrr!”

Our very special title card.

“Sundown” by Gordon Lightfoot

Our beautiful Baby.

Dean awake before Sam? A shocker.

“A teacher in an all girls school went missing in Flint, Michigan. She was heading to her car, disappeared, and nobody's seen her since.”

“Dean, there's nothing here that even remotely suggest there is a case.”

“There is nothing that even remotely suggest there isn't a case. Boom!”

Logic!

Hell yes!

Thank you, thank you, thank you Robbie Thompson.

“Ugh, theater kids. Great.”

“What? I was a theater kid.”

“Barely. You did ‘Our Town’, which was cool. But then, you did that crappy musical.”

“The - ‘Oklahoma’? Hugh Jackman got cast off of ‘Oklahoma’.”

“You ran tech, Wolverine.”

Hey, Techies are just as important as the actors.

They missed the huge banner advertising the show??

hahahaha, their faces are hilarious. Granted, if I found out someone made a musical about my life, I’d be speechless too.

“If there is case... It probably has something to do with all of this.” It has everything to do with it.

Marie, writer/director, and Maeve, the stage manager. (Fun fact: I was a stage manager once! Lots of fun, work, and telling people to shut up and pay attention.)

“I'm Special Agent Smith. This is my partner, Special Agent -”

“Smith.”

“Smith. No relation.”

Again with the joke.

There’s plenty of singing in Supernatural, mostly from you, Dean.

“If there was singing, it would be classic rock. Not this Andrew Floyd Webber crap -”

“Andrew Lloyd Webber.”

Love the improv correction.

Don’t shoot down “Carry on Wayward Son”, Sam.

I also had a theater teacher who went through a divorce.

“Maeve, right? You're the stage manager?”

“And I understudy Jody Mills.”

Maeve would make a great Jody!

“I'm gonna throw up.” Shush, Dean.

“I mean, I gotta say, it's kind of charming. The production value, and the...” I love Sam’s sincere interest tho.

Rule #1: You never touch the props.

“Why are they standing so close together?”

“Um...Reasons.”

“You know they're brothers, right?”

“Well, duh! But... Subtext.”

We gotta address that.

“You know, back when I did tech in school, we had two CD decks-”

“I'm sorry, I have to go sign the delivery.”

Aww Sam! I would love to hear his theater stories.

Pfft, Sam.

“There's no space in Supernatural.” We got close to it...

“Chuck stopped writing after ‘Swan Song’. I just- I couldn't leave it the way that it was! I mean, Dean not hunting anymore, living with Lisa?! Sam, somehow back from Hell, but not with Dean?! So, I wrote my own ending.” I don’t blame her.

“Dean becomes a woman.” Would still wanna see that happen in an episode.

“So, Sam came back from Hell. But without a soul. Then, Cas brought in a bunch of Leviathans from Purgatory. They lost Bobby. And then, Cas and Dean got stuck in Purgatory, Sam hit a dog. They met a prophet named Kevin, they lost him too. Then Sam endured a series of trials, in an attempt to close the gates of Hell. Which nearly cost him his life. Then Dean? Dean became a demon. Knight of Hell, actually.”

S6-9 summary, courtesy of Dean.

Here comes the second hand embarrassment.

“That is some of the worst fan fiction that I've ever heard ! I mean, seriously, I don't know where your friend found this garbage!” Oof, I still don’t like that.

“Siobhan and Kristen are a couple in real life. Although, we do explore the nature of Destiel in act two.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Oh, it's just subtext ! But, then again, you know, you can't spell subtext without.... s-e-x.”

!!!!!

Hi, Jensen.

“I don’t understand.”

“Me either.”

“I mean, shouldn't it be... Deastiel?”

LMAO SAM.

“You know... How about Sastiel? Samstiel?”

“Ok, alright. You know what? You're gonna do that thing, where you just shut the hell up. Forever.”

Teasing brother, Sam.

“This whole musical thing, everything, it's... It's all a coincidence? There is no case?” When is it ever just a coincidence?

“Get in the car!”

!!!!!!!

BUT HE NEVER DENIED IT THOO, that’s all i’m saying.

“You know, we should've done ‘The Outsiders’, like I told you.”

Maggie’s the second person to get kidnapped.

“I called the cops, and a bunch of adults just told me I have an overactive imagination.” :(

“It is all real. And so are we. I'm Sam Winchester. That's Dean.” NO NO NO.

“You guys are way too old to be Sam or Dean.”

“Oh, yeah!”

“More of a Bobby/Rufus combo? Maybe.”

How old do they think Sam and Dean should be???

“We are what the books called hunters.” They believe that.

First guess: a tulpa.

“How do you kill an idea?”

“Well, in ‘Hell House’, Sam and Dean burnt the house down, to take out the one tulpa they hunted.”

Correct!

“Gird your loins. It's horrifying.” Umm...okay.

I love how reluctant Marie was to burn her prop.

“What?”

“It’s not a tulpa.”

“Say it one more time, but just a little bit more Arnold--”

LMAO, Dean.

Calliope.

“According to the lore, Calliope manifests creatures from the story she's tuned into.”

The show must go on.

An understandable panic attack over the possibility of getting eaten.

“Is Marie gonna get eaten?” Shush.

I love when Dean calls people “champ”. It’s so sweet and endearing.

“If Sam and Dean were real, they wouldn't back down from a fight. Especially my sweet, brave, selfless Sam. There's nothing he can't do.” !!!

“I used this for my one-woman ‘Orphan Black’ show, last year.” Marie is the theater kid I would’ve lowkey wanted to be.

“Writer. Director. Actor. I'm gonna Barbra Streisand this bitch.” FUCK YES! KICK IT IN THE ASS!

Dean fixing Stage!Cas’ tie!!

Funny Sam asked for Chuck...

“Oh! I-I, I love him. I do! But honestly, the whole author introducing himself into the narrative thing, it's just not my favorite. I kind of hate the meta stories.” I politely disagree.

“Alright, listen up, girls. Now, you're all here, because you love ‘Supernatural’.”

“Actually, I was hoping we'd do ‘Wicked’.”

“I want you to get out there, and I want you to stand as close as she wants you to, and I want you to put as much sub and add text, as you possibly can. There is no other road. No other way. No day, but today.”

“Did he just quote ‘Rent’?”

“Not enough to get us into trouble.”

“Ghooooost-facerssss!” This episode just adds wonderful years to my lifespan.

You know what I would pay to watch this play in full???

“The Road So Far”

There it is.

The misunderstood thumbs up, lmao.

Sam goes bye bye.

Maggie and the teacher.

They were in the school’s basement.

Hello, Calliope.

“I’ll Just Wait Here Then”

Nothing makes me more emotional than seeing the audience fall in love Stage!Cas, much like we did with our real Cas.

“If I have to sit through that second act, one more time... There's robots, and tentacles, and space. I can't even.” lol

“A Single Man Tear”

That exorcism special effect is so wonderful! I can see how they do it now, but from the audience’s POV, it’s absolutely magical.

What the hell did the audience think Dean was doing??

“We're through the looking glass, here, people. Strike the wendigo set, let's prep the priests costumes. And Sarah? Get understudies into hair and makeup.” Maeve’s a A+ stage manager.

“Supernatural has everything. Life. Death. Resurrection. Redemption. But above all, family. All sorts of music you can really tap your toe to. It isn't some meandering piece of genre dreck. It's... epic!” Agreed.

Stage!Dean is a pro if she could keep singing with everything going on in the background.

lmao at the one guy putting on his poncho.

Original Stage!Sam knocks out Calliope.

Understudy!Sam kills the Scarecrow.

Sam kills Calliope. A trifecta of Sam Awesomeness.

RIP Calliope. Killed by Sam.

The audience must be wondering how they managed to do that for years.

“Take a bow, Sammy.” Take a bow too, Dean.

“Thanks for saving my friends.”

“Sure.”

“You know? If you'd cut your hair a little, you'd make a pretty good Dean.”

Aww.

“Dean? You never should've thrown this away.” YYYEEESSS

“It never really worked. And, I don't need a symbol to remind me how I feel about my brother, so...”

“Just take it. Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

I love Dean’s panic when he realizes he just called a teenage girl a “bitch” without meaning to, lmaoo.

Take it away Stage!Winchesters!

Let me tell you, I literally bursted into tears when they started singing “Carry On Wayward Son”. It’s beautifully done.

Starting with Stage!Mary, who is more or less Square 1 of the entire story.

i remember a lot of people being upset about Cas not being part of the family lineup at the end, and I get it. But if Marie was only going off of the first 5 seasons, it makes sense that she didn’t see Cas as family yet because Sam and Dean didn’t see Cas as family yet. They’re just one year shy of that.

BUT the same girl who plays Cas is on stage as Adam, a technical Winchester. You could say Cas took over Adam’s role as the third Winchester “brother” because canonically speaking, that’s the highest title Sam and Dean have given Cas.

“Who's that?”

“Oh, that's Adam. John Winchester's other kid. He's still trapped in the cage, in Hell. With Lucifer.”

lmaooo. Awkward.

“Don’t you cry no more.” I sing, while crying.

I wish he had kept the Samulet Part 2 on there.

A picture perfect ending.

...One last surprise.

“Oh my gosh! But wait... That means that- Calliope came for me or for-?” Did Marie know who he was?

I thought it was Cas...

I legit lost my goddamn mind when I saw him.

A perfect episode of Supernatural, in my most humble opinion.

#supernatural #spn summer rewatch #spn liveblog #spn 10x05 #fan fiction #our 200th episode :')

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bloojayoolie · 6 years ago

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Being Alone, Anaconda, and Andrew Bogut: Good little Girl who has been beautifully cared for. Kymbella slept in bed with her owner, comes when called ans sits nicely on command. She is very playful, likes toys likes to cuddle and gives sweet little kisses in return. anhattan ACC 6 yrs oldi 40 lbs Kymbella ID#22518 RETURNED 06/19/18 / Reason: Landlord Issues again (was Returned to Owner 03/17/18) >> NEW PICS and NEW POSTER for lovely Kymbella <3 KYMBELLA IS A GOOD LITTLE GIRL who sadly lost her beloved human and her home due to housing issues. Please share dear litty Kimbella for a beautiful new home <3 A volunteer writes: Kimbella seems to have been a one-man(woman)'s best friend, although she is said to be welcoming of strangers and children. She comes with excellent recommendations, slept with her person, was house trained, very playful and a good girl when left alone in the house. Kimbella has been beautifully cared for by her former owner, is perfectly groomed in a silver grey brindle coat, healthy, well mannered and was surrendered into our care because of housing issues. She is acting a little shy here at the care center but complies with whatever is requested from her. She is a great walker, does her business on the way, ignores birds and other dogs, sits on command and comes right away when called. She does not like it when her peers are too pushy or bark at her. She enjoys being free in the yard, hops on the bench next to me, squeezes against my chest and accepts caresses, giving kisses in return. She lightens up at the sight of a ball and runs briefly after it. Kimbella most likely likes her space, gentle manners, soft words and well-behaved people and peers. She would likely be a wonderful friend to the new human looking for a loyal companion. Kimbella is at the Manhattan Care Center, dreaming to be yours. Another volunteer writes She's so sad it's palpable. Surrendered due to NYCHA. Her former owner said she pulls on leash but she walked beautifully for me and another volunteer later in the day. She stops walking all of a sudden and flops over to roll around on her back - she did it twice with me, once as we were crossing the street on First Avenue! She gives kisses,likes to cuddle, and although she apparently bit a dog in her building I venture a guess it's because the dog bothered her. observed her with multiple dogs of all sizes and when they ignore hershe ignores them. It's only if they bark or pull towards her that she responds in kind. She's really so sweet, and volunteers are singing her praises. She's a Level 2 only because of the dog issue which is SO easily manageable and controlled, even in NYC. VIDEOS http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-D_90zTXPgE http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w45qZdSXALE KYMBELLA ID# 22518 MANHATTAN ACC 6 yrs old, 40 lbs GRAY / WHITE SPAYED FEMALE Owner Surrender / Landlord Issues (again :( ) Medical Behavior: Blue Intake Date: 6/29/18 SHELTER ASSESSMENT: EXPERIENCED HOME Single Pet Home OWNER PROFILE June 2018 Date of Intake 29-Jun-2018 Spay/Neuter Status Spayed Basic Information: Kymbella is a 6 year dog that was surrendered due to issues with the landlord. Previously lived with: 1 adult How is this dog around strangers? Kymbella is friendly around strangers. How is this dog around children? Kymbella has never been with children. How is this dog around other dogs? Kymbella has a previous bite history with another dog which required vet care. Kymbella barks at other dogs. How is this dog around cats? Kymbella has never been around cats. Resource guarding: Kymbella's owner has never taken away her food, toys, or treats. Bite history: Kymbella bit another dog in December 2017. That dog required veterinary care. Housetrained: Yes Energy level/descriptors: Medium Other Notes: Kymbella is not bothered by storms or fireworks. If someone unfamiliar approaches Kymbella barks at them. She is not bothered by being restrained, given a bath, brushed, or having her nails trimmed. Has this dog ever had any medical issues? Yes Medical Notes Kymbella is overweight. For a New Family to Know Kymbella is used to being an only dog. She is reactive to some dogs on leash, but not all. Her owner described her as friendly with people, affectionate, playful, and curious. Kymbella is housebroken and likes to urinate on any plastic surfaces she can find outside. If plastic is not available, she will use the cement. She is used to getting her daily exercise through two walks per day and through playing fetch with a hard rubber ball with her owner. She is well-behaved when left home alone. She is used to eating twice a day. She usually receives Purina dry food, and her owner filled her bowl to the top. Kymbella is not bothered during loud storms or when fireworks are going off. She will play and pull back on the ball when her owner tries to take it back. She has primarily been kept indoors. Kymbella either sleeps in her dog bed or in bed with her owner. Kymbella usually has her tails trimmed by the vet. Kymbella enjoys bath time. She someone unfamiliar is in the hallway, she will run to the door and watch it without barking. Her owner stated that she rarely barks. Kymbella is not bothered when strangers approach her owner. She also stated that if she is awake, Kymbella typically is. She goes for slow walks with her owner. On the leash, Kymbella pulls hard and consistently, even when given a correction. BEHAVIOR NOTES Kymbella scanned positive for a microchip. She pulls hard. She was not interested in treats. She allowed all handling and for her picture to be taken. Date of intake: 29-Jun-2018 Spay/Neuter status: Yes Means of surrender (length of time in previous home): Owner Surrender Previously lived with: An adult Behavior toward strangers: Friendly Behavior toward dogs: Barks and lunges at some dogs Resource guarding: None reported Bite history: Yes, Kymbella bit a small dog in December 2017 that was in her building. The dog required veterinary care. Housetrained: Yes Energy level/descriptors: Kybella is described as friendly with people, affectionate, playful, and curious with a medium level of activity. SAFER SCORES: Date of assessment: 1-Jul-2018 Look: 1. Dog's eyes are averted, with tail wagging and ears back. Allows head to be held loosely in Assessor's cupped hands. Sensitivity: 1. Dog stands still and accepts the touch, eyes are averted, and tail is in neutral position with a relaxed body posture. Dog's mouth is likely closed for at least a portion of the assessment item. Tag: 1. Dog follows at the end of the leash, body soft. Paw squeeze 1: 1. Dog does not respond at all for three seconds. Eyes are averted and ears are relaxed or back. Paw squeeze 2: 1. Dog does not respond at all for three seconds. Eyes are averted and ears are relaxed or back. Flank squeeze 1: Item not conducted Flank squeeze 2: Item not conducted Toy: 1. Minimal interest in toy, dog may smell or lick, then turns away. Summary: Kymbella approached the assessor in the assessment room with a soft body. She was social during the assessment, allowed all handling, and displayed no concerning behaviors. Summary (1): 3/11: When introduced to the helper dog on leash, Kymbella is tense, hard barks, and growls. Due to described discomfort and bite history involving another dog, a single dog home is recommended. Date of intake: 28-Jun-2018 Summary: Kymbella was social and allowed handling. Date of initial: 29-Jun-2018 Summary: Kymbella allowed handling. ENERGY LEVEL: Kymbella's previous owner described her as having a medium level of activity. IN SHELTER OBSERVATIONS: Kymbella has remained highly soft and social with her human caretakers throughout her time at ACC, enjoying time out of her kennel with staff and volunteers. She allows all handling and shows no wariness of novel people. In her kennel she displays highly stressed behavior (constant whining, panting etc.) and does not engage with enrichment while in her kennel. BEHAVIOR DETERMINATION: EXPERIENCE (suitable for an adopter with some previous dog experience, especially with the behaviors outlined below) Behavior Asilomar TM - Treatable-Manageable Recommendations: Single-pet home Recommend no dog parks Recommendations comments: Single dog home/no dog parks: Due to described discomfort and bite history involving another dog, a single dog home is recommended. Potential challenges: On-leash reactivity/barrier frustration Potential challenges comments: On-leash reactivity/barrier frustration: At the care center, Kymbella has been observed to react to other dogs on leash, lunging towards them, barking and growling. This behavior was also reported in her previous home. Kymbella may need positive reinforcement, reward based training to teach her to look at you rather than other dogs. We recommend a front clip harness or head halter to help manage this behavior. MEDICAL EXAM NOTES DVM Intake Exam: Estimated age: 6yrs (o reported) Microchip noted on Intake? Y Microchip Number (If Applicable): History: o/s d/t issues w/ landlord Subjective: BAR, energetic Observed Behavior – worked up but compliant for exam, less restraint better Objective:T = DNP P = WNL R = eup BCS 7/9 EENT: Eyes clear, ears clean, no nasal or ocular discharge noted Oral Exam: Mild tartar and staining, no significant dental dz noted PLN: No enlargements noted H/L: NSR, NMA, CRT < 2, lungs clear, eupnic ABD: Non painful, no masses palpated U/G: Spayed female MSI: Overweight; ambulatory x 4, skin free of parasites, no masses noted, healthy hair coat CNS: Mentation appropriate – no signs of neurologic abnormalities Rectal: Externally normal Assessment: overweight, otherwise apparently healthy 6yr FS dog. Prognosis: good. Plan: ok for placement ---------------------------------------------------- NOTES FIRST STAY - Intake 3/10/18 KYMBELLA@MANHATTAN ACC Hello, my name is Kymbella My animal id is #22518 I am a desexed female gray brindle dog at the Manhattan Animal Care Center The shelter thinks I am about 6 years old, 53 lbs Came into shelter as owner surrender 3/10/2018 Reason Stated: Landlord won't allow (nycha) Kymbella is at risk for behavior reasons. She is highly stressed in the care center, and whimpers and shakes whilst in her kennel. Kymbella is social with people, but due to her behavior with other dogs, we recommend she be the only pet in the household. Medically, Kymbella has been treated for conjunctivitis and dermatitis whilst at the care center. My medical notes are... Weight: 53.8 lbs Vet Notes Medical Assistant 10/03/2018 [DVM Intake] DVM Intake Exam Estimated age: 6yo Microchip noted on Intake? neg Microchip Number (If Applicable): History : O/S. Dog reactive, did bite another dog last December Subjective: BARH. Friendly and well behaved during PE and med handling. Muzzled just in case. No growling or other signs of aggression. Observed Behavior - Evidence of Cruelty seen - n Evidence of Trauma seen - n Objective T = P = wnl R = wnl BCS 6/9 EENT: OU periocular alopecia and erythema. Ears mild brown/black ceruminous debris, no nasal or ocular discharge noted Oral Exam: mild dental calculus PLN: No enlargements noted H/L: NSR, NMA, CRT < 2, Lungs clear, eupnic ABD: Non painful, no masses palpated U/G: FS, spay scar, no MGTs, no vulvar dc MSI: Ambulatory x 4, skin free of parasites, no masses noted, healthy hair coat CNS: Mentation appropriate - no signs of neurologic abnormalities Rectal: normal externally Assessment suspect allergies otherwise, apparently healthy Prognosis: good Plan: diphenhydramine 50mg PO BID x 7 days ctm until transfer / adoption recommend allergy diet post placement SURGERY: spayed 12/03/2018 Reportedly not eating over the last 24-48 hours; started on diphenhydramine for suspected allergies but is not taking medications with food S/O -BAR, appears friendly but anxious; hard barking at kennel door and very reactive to noise -no nasal discharge, sneezing or coughing -OU: moderate periocular erythema -appears eupnic A 1. Dermatitis, suspect underlying allergies 2. Inappetance-suspect behavioral secondary to stress of shelter environment P -entice to eat with different diets -if starts eating, consider adding trazodone during stay in shelter to ease anxiety 14/03/2018 I discussed pt's behavior and poor appetite with the Behavior team today. They report that pt is very sweet outside of the kennel, but is terrified of other dogs. S: Pt comes to the front of the kennel and wags her tail and whines. O: -Small mass on OS lower lid -No ocular discharge, nasal discharge, coughing or sneezing A: -Fearful of other dogs, not eating well inside her kennel -Small eyelid mass P: 1. Discussed pt with volunteer and had the volunteer walk pt, feed her outside on a walk. Pt ate well. I also had the volunteer feed pt 100 mg trazodone - at 3:30pm this afternoon0. 2. Continue 100 mg trazodone BID - consider increasing to 150 or 200 mg depending on response. 3. If eyelid mass irritates pt's eye, consider excision 1088 14/03/2018 Started on trazodone (100 mg PO BID) yesterday due to inappetance which was suspected to be secondary to anxious behavior S/O -BAR, appears friendly and much more relaxed/docile but not sedate -no concerns with appetite today -no nasal discharge, sneezing or coughing noted or reported -OU: mild conjunctivitis, mild periocular dermatitis A 1. Inappetance, appears resolved 2. Anxiety, appears to be responding to trazodone 3. Conjunctivitis, periocular dermatitis-suspect underlying breed related allergies P -extend trazodone at 100 mg PO BID x 7 days -add neo/poly/dex OU BID x 7 days Details on my behavior are... Behavior Condition: 2. Blue Behavior History Behavior Assessment Upon intake, Kymbella was friendly and receptive to touch. As noted by her owner, she does pull very hard on her leash. She was not interested in treats, but did sit down for a photo nicely when she was less distracted. Date of Intake: 3/10/2018 Spay/Neuter Status: Spayed Basic Information:: Kymbella is a six year old spayed female medium mixed breed dog. She came in as an owner surrender due to landlord issues involving NYCHA. She most recently saw a vet in 2016. Previously lived with:: 1 adult How is this dog around strangers?: Kymbella is friendly around strangers. How is this dog around children?: Kymbella has not been around children. How is this dog around other dogs?: Kymbella is not often in the company of other dogs. When walking, she typically does not pay much attention to other dogs. She will bark and lunge at some, but not others. She bit a small dog in December of 2017 within her apartment building which resulted in that dog needing vet care. How is this dog around cats?: Kymbella has not been around cats. Resource guarding:: Owner has never tried to move or touch her food or treats. Bite history:: Kymbella bit a small dog in December 2017. That dog did require veterinary care according to its owner. Housetrained:: Yes Energy level/descriptors:: Medium Has this dog ever had any medical issues?: No For a New Family to Know: Kymbella is used to being an only dog. She is reactive to some dogs on leash, but not all. Her owner described her as friendly with people, affectionate, playful, and curious. Kymbella is housebroken and likes to urinate on any plastic surfaces she can find outside. If plastic is not available, she will use the cement. She is used to getting her daily exercise through two walks per day and through playing fetch with a hard rubber ball with her owner. She is well-behaved when left home alone. She is used to eating twice a day. She usually receives Purina dry food, and her owner filled her bowl to the top. Kymbella is not bothered during loud storms or when fireworks are going off. She will play and pull back on the ball when her owner tries to take it back. She has primarily been kept indoors. Kymbella either sleeps in her dog bed or in bed with her owner. Kymbella usually has her tails trimmed by the vet. Kymbella enjoys bath time. She someone unfamiliar is in the hallway, she will run to the door and watch it without barking. Her owner stated that she rarely barks. Kymbella is not bothered when strangers approach her owner. She also stated that if she is awake, Kymbella typically is. She goes for slow walks with her owner. On the leash, Kymbella pulls hard and consistently, even when given a correction. Date of intake:: 3/10/2018 Spay/Neuter status:: Yes Means of surrender (length of time in previous home):: Owner Surrender Previously lived with:: An adult Behavior toward strangers:: Friendly Behavior toward dogs:: Barks and lunges at some dogs Bite history:: Yes, Kymbella bit a small dog 4 months ago that was in her building. The dog required veterinary care. Housetrained:: Yes Energy level/descriptors:: Kybella is described as friendly with people, affectionate, playful, and curious with a medium level of activity. Date of assessment:: 3/11/2018 Look:: 1. Dog's eyes are averted, with tail wagging and ears back. Allows head to be held loosely in Assessor's cupped hands. Sensitivity:: 1. Dog stands still and accepts the touch, eyes are averted, and tail is in neutral position with a relaxed body posture. Dog's mouth is likely closed for at least a portion of the assessment item. Tag:: 1. Dog follows at the end of the leash, body soft. Paw squeeze 1:: 1. Dog gently pulls back his/her paw. Paw squeeze 2:: 1. Dog gently pulls back his/her paw. Flank squeeze 1:: Item not conducted Flank squeeze 2:: Item not conducted Toy:: 1. No interest. Summary:: Kymbella approached the assessor in the assessment room with a soft body. She was social during the assessment, allowed all handling, and displayed no concerning behaviors. Summary (1):: 3/11: When introduced to the helper dog on leash, Kymbella is tense, hard barks, and growls. Due to described discomfort and bite history involving another dog, a single dog home is recommended. Date of intake:: 3/10/2018 Summary:: Kymbella was social and allowed handling. Date of initial:: 3/10/2018 Summary:: Kymbella was social and allowed handling. ENERGY LEVEL:: Kymbella's previous owner described her as having a medium level of activity. IN SHELTER OBSERVATIONS:: Kymbella has remained highly soft and social with her human caretakers throughout her time at ACC, enjoying time out of her kennel with staff and volunteers. She allows all handling and shows no wariness of novel people. In her kennel she displays highly stressed behavior (constant whining, panting etc.) and does not engage with enrichment while in her kennel. BEHAVIOR DETERMINATION:: EXPERIENCE (suitable for an adopter with some previous dog experience, especially with the behaviors outlined below) Behavior Asilomar: TM - Treatable-Manageable Recommendations:: Single-pet home,Recommend no dog parks Recommendations comments:: Single dog home/no dog parks: Due to described discomfort and bite history involving another dog, a single dog home is recommended. Potential challenges: : On-leash reactivity/barrier frustration Potential challenges comments:: On-leash reactivity/barrier frustration: At the care center, Kymbella has been observed to react to other dogs on leash, lunging towards them, barking and growling. This behavior was also reported in her previous home. Kymbella may need positive reinforcement, reward based training to teach her to look at you rather than other dogs. We recommend a front clip harness or head halter to help manage this behavior. *** TO FOSTER OR ADOPT *** If you would like to adopt a dog on our “To Be Killed” list, and you CAN get to the shelter in person to complete the adoption process **within 48 hours of reserve**, you can reserve the dog online until noon on the day they are scheduled to die. We have provided the Brooklyn, Staten Island and Manhattan information below. Adoption hours at these facilities is Noon – 8:00 p.m. (6:30 on weekends) HOW TO RESERVE A “TO BE KILLED” DOG ONLINE (only for those who can get to the shelter IN PERSON to complete the adoption process, and only for the dogs on the list NOT marked New Hope Rescue Only). Follow our Step by Step directions below! **PLEASE NOTE – YOU MUST USE A PC OR TABLET – PHONE RESERVES WILL NOT WORK! *** STEP 1: CLICK ON THIS RESERVE LINK: https://newhope.shelterbuddy.com/Animal/List Step 2: Go to the red menu button on the top right corner, click register and fill in your info. Step 3: Go to your email and verify account Step 4: Go back to the website, click the menu button and view available dogs. It should read, "reserve in progress". That is YOUR reserve. Step 5: Scroll to the animal you are interested and click reserve STEP 6 ( MOST IMPORTANT STEP ): GO TO THE MENU AGAIN AND VIEW YOUR CART. THE ANIMAL SHOULD NOW BE IN YOUR CART! Step 7: Fill in your credit card info and complete transaction Animal Care Centers of NYC (ACC) nycacc.org HOW TO FOSTER OR ADOPT IF YOU **CANNOT** GET TO THE SHELTER IN PERSON, OR IF THE DOG IS NEW HOPE RESCUE ONLY! You must live within 3 – 4 hours of NY, NJ, PA, CT, RI, DE, MD, MA, NH, VT, ME or Norther VA. Please PRIVATE MESSAGE our page for assistance. You will need to fill out applications with a New Hope Rescue Partner to foster or adopt a dog on the To Be Killed list, including those labelled Rescue Only. Hurry please, time is short, and the Rescues need time to process the applications. Shelter contact information Phone number (212) 788-4000 Email [email protected] Shelter Addresses: Brooklyn Shelter: 2336 Linden Boulevard Brooklyn, NY 11208 Manhattan Shelter: 326 East 110 St. New York, NY 10029 Staten Island Shelter: 3139 Veterans Road West Staten Island, NY 10309

#funny #lol #humor #memes #meme #memehumor #dank memes #funny pics #rolf #lmao #Being Alone #Anaconda

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acsversace-news · 7 years ago

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“When I first started in television, they only gave me thirty minutes to make an impression,” says Lee Miglin’s widow Marilyn, in the final episode of American Crime Story—which by now, in its ninth hour, has had 540 minutes to do the same, and which has revealed itself in increments to be far less about Versace than about queer lives, and queer death. The impression that it leaves is somber, and funereal, and its slow-burn voyeurism ends up feeling like an act of violence.

More than Gianni Versace’s ghost, the show is haunted by the specters of injustice, prejudice, complacency, heteronormativity, et cetera, et cetera; these are the spooks that make it just as much an American horror story as a crime one. Miglin’s widow is brought back, somewhat unsubtly, as a heart-rending reminder of the chaos Andrew Cunanan has caused throughout the season. When she talks about her marriage to Cunanan’s former john-turned- murder victim, Lee, as being like “a fairytale,” we’re meant to hear the “fairy” part a little louder. Mirrors are a motif in this final hour, so that when Andrew, on the run and hiding on a houseboat in Miami, is about to blow his brains out, he can’t help but turn and look at his reflection. In his mouth, the gun looks phallic; and because the gun looks phallic, it is hard not to assume that Cunanan is seeing himself (for the last time, no less) as the “faggy” kid his father mocked, “a sissy boy, with a sissy mind.”

“It is not the least bit coincidental that adults who commit suicide with firearms almost always shoot themselves in the head,” David Foster Wallace said. “They shoot the terrible master.” With one shot, the sissy mind is violently evacuated, and the sissy boy that murdered all those men is dead. The true identity of the “terrible master” in this case is unclear: hours before the suicide, Modesto, Andrew’s father, is on TV offering up exclusive rights to the story of his son’s wild murder spree. The television screen, another mirror, shows Modesto’s callousness to Andrew, and shows us the son and killer’s face in fragments when Andrew Cunanan furiously smashes it and turns it black. A further dark obsidian mirror in Gianni Versace’s tomb will later throw back the distorted face of his distraught and grieving sister, Donatella, overlaid on a baroque medusa’s head. The line is blurred between man, woman, and inhuman monster.

Being a heterosexual woman born in 1988, I’ve had the luxury of being surprised by just how far American Crime Story’s real-life twists and turns have been informed by attitudes towards gay men that seem, to me, completely prehistoric. (I believe this is called “privilege”—although if you would prefer to call it “ignorance,” I would not necessarily correct you.) When the cops detain and interview a drug-addict named Ronnie who has previously sheltered Andrew, his despairing monologue sums up the season’s heaviest message: Andrew Cunanan did talk about Versace, Ronnie shrugs, but then, “We all did. We imagined what it would be like to be so rich and so powerful that it doesn’t matter that you’re gay. The other cops [before Cunanan killed Gianni]—they weren’t searching so hard, were they? Why is that? Because he killed a bunch of nobody gays? The truth is, you were disgusted by him long before he became disgusting…. People like me, we drift away; we get sick, and nobody cares. But Andrew was vain. He wanted you to know about his pain. He wanted you to hear. He wanted you to know about being born a lie. Andrew is not hiding. He’s trying to be seen.”

I looked up the difference between “murder” and “assassination,” and it turns out the dividing line is fame. American Crime Story turns out to be not much interested in fame or in famousness at all, but in the stories and the histories of queer men: the sons like Andrew Cunanan, yes, but the fathers, too—the closeted gay husbands of bored housewives, and the would-be husbands of out gay men who were not allowed to marry. Several times in the show, two men discuss the possibility of marriage; and in every instance, one man says, “We can’t,” and means it literally. Ronnie sneers in his big, heavy-handed monologue that men like Cunanan are “born a lie.” In fact, the lie is thrust upon them. The truth is the thing that dogs them, and that haunts them, for no reason other than the fact they’re told they should be haunted by it. (Who is saying this? The terrible master—as informed by Daddy, or by God, or by society, or by fear of the self.)

In a write-up of the second episode, I mentioned that the show avoids Milan Kundera’s definition of true kitsch—“the absolute denial of shit, in both the literal and the figurative senses of the word”—by showing us the ugliness, the evil shit, straight off the bat. “Shit happens,” I wrote then, “and then you die; a lot of this shit is unearned, unfair and brutal. A lot of this shit is painful and undignified, and it kills.” Since that week, a great deal more grim shit has happened onscreen. Many more have died. The death toll stands, eventually, at six, which is not much compared to something like The Walking Dead, but is a fairly heavy number for a true-crime series with nine episodes.

Andrew Cunanan dies ignobly on the houseboat, having been surrounded; Gianni Versace, so rich and so powerful it did not “matter” he was gay, is shot and killed; Antonio, his lover, is first excommunicated from the Versace family, and then tries to overdose. Andrew’s mother opens up the door to the FBI, and simply asks if they have killed her son. Modesto, sleazily, remains there in Manila trying to monetize his son’s horrendous crimes. Not happy to reject kitsch’s denial of all shit and leave it there, American Crime Story goes one further and—having first teased us with its possibility, and its seductiveness—rejects all glamour. It is its own slick obsidian mirror, gallows dark and too reflective. It’s affecting, and it’s hard to finish. There’s no other way to put it: what it shows us is entirely too much shit.

#acs versace #2.09 #garage #vice #article #review #march 2018

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hornsbeforehalos · 7 years ago

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Anytime, Sweetheart: Part 18

Pairing: JDM x OFC

Features: Ackles & Padalecki Families, R2, Misha Collins & Vicky Vantoch, Norman Reedus, Andrew Lincoln, Kim Rhodes, Briana Buckmaster, Ruth Connell, Corey Taylor and other cast members & OFCs* *THIS IS AN RPF FIC**

Series Masterlist Summary: (I’m horrible at summaries, but let me try): Kylin Ackles runs to her brother’s house after leaving her abusive boyfriend of 3 years, where she meets Jeffrey. Events unfold that bring them together, as well as push them apart. Warnings: Emotional abuse, Physical Violence, mentions of rape, cursing, drinking, recreational drug use (weed), Strip Club, RPF, NSFW**, GIFs, implied smut, Age Difference, Slow burn, Emotional rollercoaster, poorly written smutt, etc… 18+ please

(A/N: This is strictly a work of fiction that I came up with off the top of my head. For fictional purposes his S/O & Son are not mentioned. I love him and his little family, though, so no hate intended. This is the first time posting anything on Tumblr, but I couldn’t get it out of my head since my ao3 fic is currently on hiatus because writers block. Feedback is appreciated. unbetaed, all mistakes are mine.)

*SONG USED IN THIS PART IS BODAK YELLOW BY CARDI B ALL LYRICS AND IDEAS IN REGARDS TO MUSIC VIDEO BELONGS TO HER.

TAGS: @jml509 @jesbakescookies @daddy-kink-confirmed @wayward-mirage @aquivercactus @xagateophobiax @sorenmarie87 @missghoul18@jdmfanfiction @jeffreydeanneganstrash

The rest of the weekend went by in a blur, split between following Misha around like a chicken with my head cut off and sneaking away to find Jeffrey to bury ourselves in each other. It was over too fast, and before it felt like I could blink I was back in Vancouver, on set and bored out of my skull. "Jesus Christ, Padalecki, get it the fuck together!" I heard the director yell from his chair behind the camera. He was new, and thought he knew shit. He did, in fact, not know shit.

I whipped my head around at his tone of voice, shooting daggers towards him before turning to the stage. My brother was obviously irked, vein in his neck straining as he clenched his jaw in that very Winchester way as he controlled himself from going off on the balding man.

"Places....Rolling....Go."

The boys started the scene again, said their lines, discussing whatever hunt the brothers were on this episode. Everything was going smoothly until Jensen accidentally knocked a prop off of the map table and couldn't help but laugh.

"Jesus....Are you two fucking idiots? Can you two really not get through one fucking scene?"

Jensen made a brazen move forward, but Jared stopped him with a firm hand on his chest. My brother was about to open his mouth to speak when I jumped up from my place.

"Aye! Who the fuck do you think you're talkin' to?" I barked, drawl sifting through with my rage as I swiftly stalking forward to stand closer to where the annoying little prick sat.

"Who the fuck are you?" he recoiled in a hiss, eyeing me up and down with venom in his eyes.

"Who the fuck are you? I've never seen you a day before in my life and I've been on this set for 13 fucking years. You don't speak to my brothers like that here. You don't speak to anyone like that here!" I seethed, squinting my eyes at him like he was a pest that needed to be squashed.

The man huffed, his eyes sliding from me to the two men who had moved away from the stage to menacingly stand behind me. I quirked an eyebrow at him and crossed my arms, "I think you need to apologize before someone fucks around and fires you on your first fucking day."

He swallowed thickly, glancing to me for a second before back to the glowering looming figures above me, "I-I-I'm sorry, Mr. Ackles. Please forgive me, Mr. Padalecki."

I smirked, craning my head to look up at Jensen and Jared, finding them nodding spite the scowls still splayed across both their faces. I looked back forward as I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. Pulling it out, I noted that it wasn't a number I had programmed.

"You're lucky I'm getting a call right now, douche, or I'd tear into your ass some more."

I walked away from the area as the crew went back to work and slid the accept button.

"Ms. Ackles?" The man on the other line said

"This is she."

"This is Webster, we met at the gallery? Norman said he let you know to expect my call?" "Oh yes, sir! How are you doing today?" "Great, great. Do you have a moment to speak now?" "I do, Mr. Webster. What did you have in mind?" "Well my client, Cardi, said she really liked your look and that you would suit well with her vision of the video she wants. This is all on her as far as creative ideas, so she's basically getting whatever she wants, and she's decided that she wants you." "Cardi, like....Cardi B? The rapper stripper chick from Love and Hip Hop?" he chuckled, and I pictured him shaking his head, "Yes, 'mam. That's her." "Huh. That's crazy. I actually worked with her one time years ago. Weird." "She said she thought you looked familiar. Maybe that's where that's from. Anyway, we're offering you full commodities and accommodations, travel expenses, et cetera, and the over all pay out due to you will be roughly 10, 000 after the work is completed." I choked on the gulp of RedBull I had been attempting to swallow, "Wha-wha-what?! 10,000, like, in, money?" He chuckled again, "Yes, Ms. Ackles, real U.S currency. Cash, Deposit, or Check, however you prefer." "Holy fucking shit." "So, I take that as a yes? I can have the contract sent over for you to go over with your lawyer by the end of the day." "Fuck yeah, send that shit."

"What're you doing?" Jeffrey rasped into his end of the line the second he picked up. "Freaking out. You'll never believe it." "Webbie call you?" "Fuck you, it was supposed to be a surprise" I faux pouted "Surprise, I already knew? You'll be in New York in a couple weeks, right?" "Yup! I'm so excited. It's a little bit out of my element, but I think it'll be fun." "Look at you. You gonna be staying at Norman's?" "Nah, he's not gonna be home then, he'll still be down there with ya'll." "I know this." "Then why did you ask?" "Well, because I was planning on staying at Norman's that week and could really use the company." He teased. "Really?" I couldn’t contain the excitement in my voice if I wanted to "Yeah, it worked out that I'm not gonna be needed that week. I was gonna fly up there to see you but Normskie told me about the contract so we figured you and I could just stay there 'As long as we didn't soil the place', he said" Jeffrey chuckled, probably shaking his head at the thought of his friend. "Yay! Yes! I was actually kinda scared about going by myself" "Well, now you don't have to be. I'll be there to protect you." "My hero" I sang sarcastically, earning me another husky laugh from Jeff. "I can't wait to see you, love. Been too long." He rasped, voice pitching an octave lower. "It's been two days, babe." "Yeah, two painstakingly aching days without you. Without your kisses, without your arms, without your smell. I'm craving you, baby girl." his voice was so low now if it got any deeper it would strike oil. "Fucking bitch." I gasped, lightheaded from his words. "Yeah, you are." he chuckled thickly, "My dirty little-" "Fuck you." "I will, babydoll. Don't worry about that. The moment I see you, Daddy's gonna be buried so deep....Mmmmmm." "Fuck you." I repeated with a added whine, "Why do you do that?" "What? I'm just communicating my needs to my lovely girlfriend. My lovely, beautiful, sexy, tight, girlfriend." I hissed in response. He giggled, enjoying tortuing me. "I'm gonna wear your ass out when I see you, Mr. Morgan." I hummed. "Not if I wear yours out first, Ms. Ackles."

The next two weeks seemed to creep by. Even with the insanity that was Gish week, the familiar tasks of going over entries and scoring and tallying and organizing did little to keep my mind from wandering to Jeffrey. The anticipation of seeing him had me missing him even more, especially with the teasing conversations that he had to elicit every time we were on the phone. I swear the man was trying to kill me or something. When the day finally came for him to meet me at the New York airport I tore myself across the over crowded are where I saw him waiting for me with a couple security guards and flung myself at him like a mad woman. My bags dropped to the ground and and I leaped, full speed, into his open arms. My legs wrapped around his waist and my mouth melted to his so fast I couldn't close my eyes before the stars appeared. He pulled away from my lips to pepper my face in kisses before smothering me against him as he squeezed me, effectively popping several vertebrae in my back.

"God I missed you, sweetheart," he breathed into my hair, not putting me down as started walking towards the exit, his body guards grabbing my bags. I buried my face into his collar bone and inhaled his intoxicating aroma of cigarettes and cologne as he carried me through the airport, ignoring the multiple flashing cameras as we made our way out. "That's gonna be on TMZ, ya know. "Kylin Ackles gets carried out of airport like a baby by Jeffrey Dean Morgan" "Yeah, because the headline is gonna be about you, love." he chuckled as we approached the SUV waiting for us. "It is. I'm more famous than you, you know." I giggled, scrunching my nose and nuzzling his scruff. "Yeah, I'm sure you're totally correct on that statement, there, baby doll." he snorted before sitting me in the back seat. I scooted over so he could join me and close the door. He instantly ignored the two giants as they crawled into the front seats, pulling me as close to him as possible and shoving his tongue down my throat with an arm snaking around to grasp my ass. "Jezus, Jeff, let the poor woman breathe!" the one driving, Eddie, teased as we pulled out of the airport "We're right here, bruh. I love you and all, you my dog, but I ain't tryna see your dick." the passenger, Tyrone, kidded. I instantly snorted out a laugh against Jeff's mouth, efficiently breaking us apart as my face beamed red. "Awh, hon, no need for you to be embarrassed, it's Jeffy poo over here that's about to blow his fuckin' load." Eddie joked, eyeing my red complexion in the rear view mirror, "You got that man whipped, girl." I giggled as Jeff pulled away to glare at the men in the front seat, covering my mouth with my hands as my giggles erupted to full blown uncontainable laughter. "Oh, so now I got you laughing at me too?" Jeff whined, turning his attention back to me before deepening his drawl, "You're gonna get it, little girl" "Ho-Oh! I bet she could take you." Tyrone bellowed. "Damn right she can." Jeffrey replied, throwing his arm over my shoulder as he adjusted the leg of his jeans and pulled me into his side. "Jesus Christ, babe. Couthe. Fucking couthe." "I have none." "Obviously."

When we arrived at Norman's apartment Jeffrey let us both in with his key and threw our bags behind the door. We slipped off our shoes before scooping me up bridal style and rushing us to our room. I giggled the entire way as Jeffrey once again covered my face and hair and neck in sloppy kisses while squeezing his fingers around his grip on my thighs. He plopped me, literally, onto the bed and I squeaked, bouncing on top of the mattress as he threw himself over me with a playful roar. I tried to scurry my way up towards the head board but he grabbed my ankle and halted me. "Get over here, little one." he growled, predatory snarl decorating his face as his eyes darkened. "Make me." I smirked back, murderous smile splayed across my own cheeks. He clicked his tongue against his front teeth, "Wrong answer, baby love." He yanked my leg and I slipped down the mattress before he grabbed my other ankle and flipped me over onto my stomach. Before I could even register his movement a hand came down over the denim covering my ass with a loud "THWACK!" That caused my whole body to tingle and an embarrassing moan to escape my throat. "You have been hellish recently, little girl, you know that?" he questioned with a grin, working his shirt over his shoulders as I remained still on the bed, my ass still stinging. "S'part of my charm," I mumbled into the blankets. THWACK! "Oww! Fuck you!" I jerked my self out of his grip of my ankle and pushed away from him. "Now, now, Kylin Kay, no need for the language." He cooed darkly, Cheshire smile spreading as his head tilted. "Fuck you, Mr. J." "I will, Ms. Ackles. You bet I fuckin' will." "If I let you." "What happened to 'wearing me out' hmm? Seems like I'm sticking to my promise." My eyes narrowed in challenge, my own face tilting quickly to the side as my voice dropped an octave seductively, "Is that what you think, Mr. Morgan?" "Mmmhmmm," He hummed smugly. "Well, darlin', in my personal opinion," I started, twang thick in my lust as I pulled the tank top I was wearing over my head to toss at him, exposing my lacy black bra I had picked out specifically for this fun, "That you hit like a litty, bitty, bitch." "Big opinion for such a small girl." "The only opinion that counts, though, right, old man?" Jeffrey snarled again as he leaned over to crawl on the bed, eyes dangerous and hungry. He prowled forward, his body hovering over mine as he peered down at me and licked his lips. Suddenly, one hand wound itself in my hair with a sharp pull, jerking my head upwards towards his face, "The only one who's gonna be a bitch here is you, my little bitch in heat, begging for daddy to fill her up."

A flood happened somewhere in my panties, and my breath choked as my whole body became sensitive from him scratching his rough beard along the flesh of my neck. A loud, wanton moan filled the room as he ground his hips against mine, denim on denim creating almost painfully needed friction. He moved his hand from my tresses and slithered it to my jaw, thumb brushing across my lips before diving in between my lips forcefully. My tongue, with a mind of its own, instantly wrapped and curled around his digit, sucking it deeper into my mouth. Jeffrey closed his eyes and dug his hardness into me again. Seeing the opportunity, I bit down. Hard. "Rah! Fucking hell, woman!" Jeffrey road, snatching his hand away from me and sitting up on his thighs, "You wanna play like that, huh? I've got you, now." He backed off of me and moved downward, tugging my shorts off and leaving me in nothing but my panties that matched my bra. Jeffrey groaned at the sight, tongue darting out between his mouth before he secured his bottom lip between his teeth. He ran his hands up my smooth calves to my thighs, eyes never breaking contact with mine. He smoothed his fingertips downward before moving them back to my ankles. In one swift, unanticipated movement, he twisted my body as he sat down on the bed, spreading me across his lap, my tummy to his thighs. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me." I griped, fighting against him as he pinned me down with one arm over my back, like you would a child.

THWACK "Fuck you, Jeffrey!" THWACK "You're still a fucking bitch." THWACK-THWACK-THWACK "Just fucking wait-" THWACK "Okay! Okay! Jeezus! I'm fuckin' sorry!" THWACK, but this time, instead of instantly removing his hand from my cheek, he kept it there, shaking it gently as it absorbed the sting. "What was that, little one?" "I said I was sorry, damn!" "Language, kitten." he rasped and I felt him raise his hand above me again. "YELLOW FUCKING LIGHT JEFFREY." His whole demeanor changed instantly, hand quickly dropping back down to massage the scarlet painted flesh that was my behind as he leaned forward and hunched over me to kiss my back. The tingling sensation that my whole body was experiencing flung me over into hypersensitivity and my eyes rolled back in my head at the feeling of his course hair against my skin. "You okay?" His deep drawl was still lusty, but mixed with concern now. "Yeah," I panted, trying to steady myself. "Fuck" "What do you need, baby girl?" "You, inside me, now." I groaned, gingerly lifting myself from across his lap to straddle him, raking my manicured nails down his chest "You've got entirely too many clothes on, Mr. J."

"Well take 'em off of me, sweetpea." I wiggled off of his lap to kneel between his legs where he sat on the bed. My hands moved to finger the button on his jeans, slowly tugging them open and unzipping them. He raised his hips to allow me to pull them off at the same time as his boxers, my mouth instantly watering as his clock flopped free. Naturally, Jeffrey picked up on the needy look in my eyes. "You wannet, baby?" He rasped, looking down at me through hooded, wanton eyes as he grasped himself and stroked. I licked my lips before moving my eyes from his dick to his face and nodding. "You wannet bad?" he asked again, continuing to stoke himself. I nodded again. "Say it," "I want it." My dialated pupils rose back to his face. "Want what?" he smirked. "Your cock." "Say it." "I want your cock." "Where, baby girl?" he cooed mischievously. "Inside me." I whimpered "What was that?" "I want your cock inside me, Daddy." Throwing the last word in for good measure. The growl that emitted from his chest sounded like it came straight from his soul, and he lunged at me from across the sheets. His long arm curled itself around my back and with a snap, my bra came open and he ripped it off my chest, my nipples instantly hardening against the cool air conditioning of the apartment. I didn't have time to shiver before his mouth was attached to my right breast and his other hand moved to massage the left one. I moaned again, grateful for his contact that I had been deprived of for the past two weeks "Jeffrey." I groaned, feeling him dig his hardness into the slick between my thighs, "I need you, baby." "There it is." He grinned smugly, pride beaming through his irises, "There's my girl." "Fuck, Jeff." "Do you need something, little one?" he cooed sarcastically. "I hate you." I whined. "Oh, really? Well then I guess I'll..." he trailed off, moving away from me, trying to back off the bed. "Fucking bitch, I don't think so, mister." I growled, wrapping my legs around his shoulders and pulling him forward. The motion made his hands slip and he landed face first into my panties, "That's more like it." "Oh yeah, you think you deserve my tongue laving at this pussy?" "Yes." "And what have you done to deserve it?" "Put up with your teasin', Mr. Morgan. I deserve a prize." "Tsk tsk, little girl. I don't think you're needy enough." "Jeffrey Dean Morgan." "Mmmm, I like the way you say that" "If you don't...." I trailed off, unable to finish my sentence as he began to pull my underwear downwards with his teeth. Once they were off my ankles, he re-positioned himself between my legs and breathed deeply over the bare flesh in front of him, "If I don't what, Darling?" I whined, a pitiful sound that ached down from my very core. Jeffrey smirked that devilish grin of him that further pulled the string holding my composure together. "Get it the fuck together, Kylin. Don't you let him make you beg.' His hot breath ghosted over my skin beneath his mouth with another deep hum, his tongue gently darting out to graze over the outside of my lips, spreading them just barely. Jeff could visibly see my core contract as my walls clenched around nothingness, physically begging for contact of any kind. Another smirk appeared over his face as he looked down at it with a chuckle, before peering back up to me knowingly. I whined again but bit my lip, squirming as I tried to buck my hips upward. He held me down still, his arms wrapped under neath my thighs to hold them open. He licked the front of his top teeth hungrily, lust blown pupils boring into me and furthering my torture. 'Don't you fucking do it.' I had to keep telling myself. An idea came to mind and I executed it before I had time to really think. I swiftly brought my thighs back around his shoulders, gripping him tightly about the neck. His hold on my legs had loosened due to my unexpectedness, and I seized the opportunity to roll us both over and rise to my knees in one fluid motion. I was now, to Jeff's very obvious surprise, holding his body down to the bed with my pussy directly in his face. I reached back, my long hair tickling his stomach, and gripped his cock firmly in my hand before he even registered what had happened. "What in the fuh-" "Eat it, now." I commanded, squeezing at his root. "Fucking bitch-" Jeffrey growled, and although I couldn't see his face I smirked at the idea that he was rolling his eyes between my legs before diving his tongue deep inside my folds to drink up the wetness like it was the blood of Christ at Easter Mass. "Yeeeaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhsssssss" I wailed as tears pricked my eyes at the sudden relief that flowed through me. I eagerly began to rock my hips back and forth, the vibrations of Jeffrey's grunts and groans wrecking my very soul. I gasped, and moaned, and screamed, and cried as his tongue assaulted my clit before dipping and suckling at my entrance. The familiar tightening sensation coiled around my center as the course hairs of Jeffrey's face scratched and scraped against my flesh. His face was soaked with my juices but he never came up for air, instead furrowing his brows as he felt me begin to quiver above him and picking up his pace, his attack brutal and feral as he twisted his tongue against my folds. I leaned back again and twisted myself, almost uncomfortably, around to be face to face with his cock. Opening my mouth as wide as I could, I sunk my throat down over his length, earning me nothing short of what could be described as a scream from Jeffrey against my cunt, followed by his hips bucking upwards to thrust further down my neck twice before I gagged and and tried to pull away. His dick followed my mouth though, and I had to actually push his hips down to pop my lips from his shaft. I chose the opportune time, as well, because as soon as he left my mouth my entire face was coated as nut spurted from his cock. In his reaction he released a feral roar as he dove his tongue as deep as it could possibly dig, his whole mouth enveloping me with hot breath and suction, triggering my own meltdown that made me cry out and shake, my walls clenching down on his tongue trying to hold him in place there forever. The release took over my being, disallowing me to do anything but pant and quiver and whimper. The relaxation slowly turned to over sensitivity and I wretched myself from him and landed face first into the sheets, butt in the air as I wiped of the mess from my face in the process. My ass was directly in his line of sight where he lay beside me panting, and he couldn't help himself as he raised up and rolled to his side, delivering another violent THWACK to my ass that he used to hoist himself into the sitting position. My eyes rolled to the back of my head, and I felt like I was dying in a blissful day dream that was way too short lived. He stood from the bed in front of my head, hand tangling itself in the mess that had became of my hair, and jerked my face up to be eye-level with his softened dick. "Look what you did." I smirked up at him triumphantly, licking my lips as I shifted my eyes downwards towards his member "You're the one who couldn't handle a little head." I stuck my tongue out and grazed the spent head that still had fluid dribbling out of it. Jeffrey's fingers tightened against my skull, making me open my mouth in a gasp that he took full advantage of. His free hand came to grip the base of his cock as he shoved it past my lips.

"Suck it. Get it hard again. I'm not done with you yet." I moaned, eyes rolling up to meet his as I hummed around his flesh and slurped him into my mouth, feeling him growing harder and harder by the second. He pumped into my throat quickly, grunting at my body's willingness to take him. "That's it, baby girl. Fuck, yes. So good." he praised in a rasp, his hand around his root moving into my hair to form a pony tail to pull it away from my face, "Best fucking mouth I've ever had." Another moan ripped through me, a new coat of wetness slicking my cunt and dripping down onto the sheets as my body shivered with need. I reveled in the feeling of his thickness plunging into my mouth, his pants and grunts above me making my pupils dilate and body tingle. He pulled my head away from his cock with a loud pop, one hand gripping the base again as he stroked himself gently before untangling the other from my hair, "Turn around, beautiful, hands and knees." I obeyed silently, body pretty much taken control of itself while my mind was hazy with lust and orgasmic bliss. I let out a surprised squeak when I suddenly felt two of his long, thick digits enter my pussy and his thumb press firmly against my asshole. Before I even had time to react, his other hand came down across my ass one final time, and my second orgasm wrecked through my system so unexpectedly I couldn't even make a noise if I'd tried. My arms buckled and I face planted into the sheets, mouth gaping in a silent scream. I had no time to recover before Jeffrey was behind me, the blunt head of his cock pushing past my quivering entrance as my body tried to suck him in further. "If that's not the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen." "Fuuuuuuhhhhhhkkkkk" I was finally able to get out, my voice broken as pleasure-induced tears streamed down my face. "Awh, look at my baby girl. Crying for daddy's cock, are you?" He smirked, voice sweet but sarcastic. Tired of his games and torture, I mustered up the energy some how to lift myself up to my elbows and arch my back before slamming my hips backwards and impaling myself on his dick. "You fucking dirty little bi-" He started but was cut off by me moving forward and slamming back again. "Filthy fucking-" SLAM "That how you wanna do this, huh?" SLAM "Oh yeah, you wanna take it?" SLAM "I'll make you take it, little girl." SLAM "Okay, enough of that." He growled, finger tips gripping my hips with bruising strength. He pulled me back roughly and rolled his hips, digging the head of his cock into the opening of my cervix , causing me to cry out again in both pleasure and pain. "Yeah, you like that, baby girl?" he rasped, to which I whined in response. "Huh? Do you?" He panted, pulling out and plunging back in deeply. "yeh-yeh-yeeeasss, daddy" I cried, my hips instinctively moving in time with his thrusts "That's my good girl." He began a barrage of hearty thrusts that I kept up with willingly, my hands clutching the sheets for leverage as we rocked back and forth against each other as fast as we could. Need and desire took us both over and we both became blubbering, moaning, wet messes as my slickness coated him as he moved himself in and out of me. Within a matter of minutes I felt the familiar heat spreading through my core as he throbbed inside me, preparing for release. "You take it so good, baby. I'm gonna come. I need you to come first." He panted, slowing his thrusts as he tried to hang on. "Nnnnnng, Jeff, I can't...." I could feel the orgasm trying its best to push forward, but it couldn't reach the surface no matter how hard I tried to will it. "Yes you can, baby doll. Come for me." Jeff soothed, leaning down over my back to snake arms around me and pull me upward to where my back was against his chest. His lips and scuff brushed my skin as he peppered my neck with kisses and nibbles, teeth grazing and marking what was his. One palm moved to my breast to pull and tease at the nipple as the other one slithered down between my thighs to push against my clit. Within two swirls of his fingertip around the sensitive nub my mind exploded as stars shot across my vision. The dark coil inside me burst once again and I gushed against him as he pushed me back down on to the bed, hands moving to pin me down to the mattress as his thighs straddled me and he jack hammered himself into my heat, chasing his own release with several quick thrusts before ripping himself out of me and spraying all over my body, thick ropes reaching across my ass and back all the way up to my shoulders with it's intensity. The guttural sound that emanated from his vocal chords shook me through and finalized both of our releases. His body instantly collapsed beside me on the sweat-and-whatever-else-soaked sheets. "Jesus fucking Christ." "Mhmmm," I hummed contently, eyes still closed, "promise completed." "Yes fuckin' 'mam!" he breathed with a chuckle, peaking one eye open to look at my disheveled state at the same time I did the same.

After cleaning up and taking a small nap, Jeffrey and I lounged around Norman's penthouse for the rest of the evening, ordering pizza and finding something to watch on TV. It was nice and relaxing, being able to sprawl out across the couch with my feet in his lap, him smiling at me with that cheeky grin of his as he tickled my toes. We eventually dug around and found norman's stash, Jeffrey rolling a joint and us sharing it on the patio balcony, gazing down at the busy streets of New York. "You nervous about the meeting tomorrow?" Jeffrey asked as he lit a cigarette between his lips and passing the pack to me. "Hmmm, I'm not sure." I said, taking one out and lighting it, "I guess I am. I've never done anything like this before, but you being here is helping me chill out."

"Good, I'm glad. S'kinda my goal." I smiled at him, leaning over the railing as my eyes drifted among the lights as I took an inhale off the cigarette between my fingers. "Watcha thinkin' bout, princess." "Hmm? Oh, nothing. Just at peace for a moment, ya know?" "Hmm, I think I do." He moved behind me, chest against my back and hands on either side of mine against the railing. I savored the feeling of having him around me as he nuzzled his nose into my hair and kissed my shoulder. I leaned my head back against his shoulder as I took another drag of cancer. "It's crazy to think my life was nothing like this a year ago." I sighed contently, enjoying the rapture, "Thank you, Jeffrey." "For what?" "Supporting me...pushing me...being there for me....putting up with me." I snorted at the last part. Jeffrey snorted too, kissing the crown of my head before bringing his cigarette to his lips, "Anytime, Sweetheart."

The next morning came too soon, my body tired and sore and worn out from the previous days excitement. I groaned in protest when my alarm went off, throwing my arm over Jeffrey's back as I snuggled into his side as he quieted my phone for me. "Come on, babe, nope, gotta get up." he gruffed, voice thick and raspy from sleep. "Fuck you. Make me coffee." I grunted. "Too early in the morning to deal with your sass, little one." "Too early in the morning to be alive, old man" I shot back, pulling myself away from his warmth to drag myself into the connected bathroom and start the shower, "You better bring me fucking coffee!" "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I hear you, you fuckin' brat." I heard him shout through the door.

Of course he had my coffee made exactly the way I liked it on the nightstand when I exited the bathroom wrapped in a towel, my clothes laid out that I had told him I wanted to wear, and a joint rolled and ready to be lit. I smiled at my man sweetly as I watched him pull a white t-shirt over his shoulders and down around his torso. He had already put on my favorite black jeans of his and I couldn't help but lick my lips at how lucky I had gotten to find such a wonderful human being. "You're too sweet to me, Mr. J." I blushed as I dropped the towel from under my arms and picked up my coffee mug, him turning to burn his eyes over my flesh as I took a sip of the warm caffeinated liquid.

He chuckled, licking his teeth again as he drug his lids upward across my body to reach my face, "You're the one who looks like candy, darlin'." I sat the coffee cup back down and picked up the joint, tossing it to him with the lighter as I began to dress. He lit it as he watched me pull my underwear and bra on, passing it to me as I sauntered over to stand between his legs where he sat on the edge of the bed. He wrapped his arms around my thighs to cup my ass cheeks with his hands, drawing me closer to him as he nuzzled his nose in between my cleavage and jokingly making the motor boat noise. "You're a dork." I choked, my laughter causing the smoke to irritate my lungs "Am not." he protested, squeezing my ass cheeks before giving the tender skin a playful smack, earning him a yelp of discomfort from me. "Sorry," he chuckled, massaging the skin tenderly, receiving a hum from me in response.

I was sitting in a large conference room waiting on the production team of the music video, as well as Cardi, the artist, sipping on the coffee the assistant had brought me when my phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number. 'I know you're in NYC, it was so great to see you again, Kylin. I hope your meeting goes well.' I hissed as I read the message, instantly knowing where it came from 'how did he get this number? how does he know where I am? The pictures, dumb ass, the fucking pictures from the airport. Fucking hell. When will this end?' I was distracted from my thoughts as the door swung open and several men in dress shirts entered followed by the artist herself. I stood up, smoothing my shirt out nervously as the group approached with smiles. "Kylin! Thank you for coming! I'm Perf, the director, and these are my assistants, and of course, this is Ms. Cardi." The first man greeted, bright smile contrasting greatly against his chocolate skin

"Ayeeee! Oh my god it is so great to meet you, girl!" Cardi beamed, pushing past the group of men to engulf me in an unexpected hug "Oh! Uh, It's great to meet you too, 'mam!" I replied, wrapping my arms gingerly around her nervously. "None of that 'mam' bull shit, ya hear me?! We all hoes here! Ha!" She laughed, sticking her tongue out, making us all laugh and my nerves ease.

We all took a chair around the conference table, Cardi sitting directly beside me and grasping my hands in my lap fondly. I smiled at her and she squealed, obviously excited for this meeting. "So we have a concept for the video, and we think your talent will fit perfectly into it." He started, pulling out a few concept sketches. I peered down at them as he slid them over to me and Cardi, her long nails pulling them closer to us as Perf pulled out his phone and let me listen to the song. Said, "Lil bitch, you can't fuck with me if you wanted to" These expensive, these is red bottoms, these is bloody shoes Hit the store, I can get 'em both, I don't wanna choose And I'm quick, cut a nigga off, so don't get comfortable, look I don't dance now, I make money moves Say I don't gotta dance, I make money move If I see you and I don't speak, that means I don't fuck with you I'm a boss, you a worker, bitch, I make bloody moves The song continued, my head nodding to the sound of the beat as my head whirled with ideas and inspiration. I looked to Cardi, who had a huge smile across her face as she watched my reaction. The music ended and she looked at me with a squeal, "So?! It's fucking poppin', right?" "I'm excited for sure. Is there any choreography that I need to learn before hand or is it just basically all gonna be freestyle?" I asked, looking to Perf. "You have free reign, basically, it's all gonna be in slow motion, so we don't have anything specific that we need you to do, just be sexy." "Which can't be hard for you to do." Cardi cut in, bright smile still prevalent as she saw the blush creep over my face, "Oh don't start that shit with me, gurrrrl, I seen who you're fuckin'. That nigga too foine" My eyes almost popped out my skull at her words, face burning impossibly hotter. "Uh- Ha. I'll be sure to let him know, ha ha." "We should do dinner this week! Get to know each otha better, and you gotta introduce me to him!" She practically begged, pulling my hands into her lap again as she squeezed them, “And then of course the wrap party!” 'How is this my fucking life.' "Um, sure. I'm sure that can be arranged. Um, here, uh, if you put your number in my phone I can let you know when?" I pulled my phone out of my bag and handed it to her once I unlocked it and opened the contact add. She input her information and then pushed the selfie button for a picture, focusing us both in the shot. We made funny faces at each other and then she added it to her contact, sending herself a text from my phone. The meeting finished up quickly after that, them giving met he schedule of when they would need me on set and where to go and all of that, it would be a quick 3 days of getting a few shots for me and then I would be on my way back to Vancouver by the end of the week.

The idea of Anthony knowing where I was bugged the hell out of me all the way back to Norman’s apartment. My paranoia further increased when I could help but feel like someone was watching me as I exited the car and made my way up to the door. I rushed inside, slamming the wood behind me and instantly locking the dead bolts as fast as I could.

“You okay, doll?” Jeffrey asked, walking towards the entrance when he heard me come in.

“He knows I’m here.” I whispered, turning around slowly and pressing my back against the door, “Feels like someone’s followed me.”

His eyes instantly darkened as his brow furrowed, “What do you mean?”

I sighed as I stepped away and walked towards him, pulling my phone out and opening the text message to show him. He read over it and his knuckles whitened around the device, threatening to crack the screen under his strength.

“I’m going to deal with this. Soon.” He growled, arms folding protectively around my shoulders as he pulled me to his chest, “He’s not getting to you again, baby girl. Trust me.”

I nodded as I leaned into him, fighting the scared tears that attempted to work their way over my eyelids. My arms circled around his waist, squeezing the comfort he brought into me the best I could.

He lead me into the kitchen where he lifted me onto one of the bar stools, leaving me there to pull open one of the drawers and extract a freshly rolled joint. He placed it in front of me on the bar counter with a lighter, which I quickly grabbed and held to my lips. With a wink from him I flicked the lighter as he turned back around to pull a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet with two glasses.

I passed the spliff to him as he moved my drink in front of me, replacing one for the other in my hand. I swallowed the amber liquid quickly, fighting the burn of the strong liquor as I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand as he chuckled.

“I love you, Ky.”

I smiled at him, “I love you too, handsome. Thank you for keeping me safe.”

“Anytime, Sweetheart.”

Jeffrey ordered me security personnel for the rest of the week to escort me back and forth from rehearsal while I shot the few parts that were needed. Cardi herself had excellent security and once Jeffrey had explained to her the gist of the situation over dinner, she even made sure to order her own body guards to keep an eye on me too while we were around each other. Dinner with her was hilarious, she kept Jeff rolling the entire time with her bluntness and jokes, and we received several dirty looks from big wigs in Armani suits over our whoops and hollers.

Filming went fantastic, the director, Perf, loving everything that I was doing with the parts asked of me. Me flipping up side down and spinning around on a gold pole that apparently would appear to be on fire once editing was done, and of course the basic ‘sitting around a table with a guy with a lot of money’ shot. Cardi and the rest of the crew members constantly kept everything entertaining, though, and I felt like it was basically the same atmosphere as on set with my brothers.

We were at a loud New York nightclub for the wrap party taking up the whole VIP section with the group of people that followed Cardi around, having drink sand having fun for her last night in the city before she few out the next day. I wasn’t scheduled to return to Vancouver until 2 days later, in time to be back to work on Monday.

“Come with me to the bathroom, girl, I don’t know if I can’ make it on my own!” Cardi hollered over the loud music, grabbing my hand and pulling me up with her. I gave Jeff a quick kiss on the cheek before following her in the direction of the lady’s room. A body guard went to follow us but Cardi waved them off, saying that the bathroom was close and we needed a ‘girl moment.’

When we reached the private bathroom she immediately pulled me into the stall with her, shushing me when i made a surprised squeak

“Shhhh, girl, do you do coke?” she asked, digging through her bag and finding a small blue baggie.

“Uh, I mean, I used to, I haven’t in a while, though.”

“You want some?” She held her long acrylic powder filled pinky nail towards me.

“Um, no, not right now. I’ve never done it around Jeff and I really have never even talked to him about it. I wouldn’t be able to hide it from him.”

“No problem, girl, I gotchu.” She raised her finger to her own nose with a deep snort, inhaling the drug with ease. “Here, take this, talk to him about it when you get home tonight. Maybe he’ll do it with you and ya’ll can have some nasty fun.” She giggled and stuck her tongue out at me, causing me to shake my head and laugh as I took the baggie from her.

“Girl, I’ll definitely let you know how this goes.” I shoved the plastic bag in a zipper compartment of my purse for safe keeping.

We washed our hands and were making our way back to the table when I felt firm fingers grip my bicep tightly. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as the familiar feeling of slime coated my entire body. I was jerked backward, pulling my hand out of Cardi’s that I had been holding.

“What the fuh- Who the fuck are you?” She demanded, flinging herself around and grabbing my hand again before I had a chance to even look up at my attacker, even though I already knew who it was.

Anthony didn’t let go either, though, and for a moment they played a small tug of war with me as I attempted to pull away from his grasp, “Let me the fuck go, Anthony!”

“KENDRICK!” Cardi screamed, still not letting go of my wrist as she alerted the security guard.

The scene didn’t last long, or at least it didn’t feel like it did, because before I knew what happened 2 very large men ripped Cardi and I away from Anthony and thrown into Jeffrey’s arms. He caught the both of us, arms around our waists as he pulled us away from the commotion

“What the fuck! Drag is ass, Ken! Now!” Cardi screeched, tears pricking her eyes in anger as Jeffrey held her back from charging forward.

“They’ve got em, girl, come on,” Jeffrey pulled her back into the circle of safety that had crowded around us to escort us out the building quickly. I didn’t turn around to see what the two men had done with Anthony.

“Was that the reason you needed security?” Cardi asked, catching her breath as we stood outside and waited for the valet to bring our cars around. I was clinging to Jeff, fighting back tears as my heart thudded in my chest. Jeffrey’s arms were curled around me protectively, and I felt his head nod against where he had it rested on the top of mine.

She nodded her own head in understanding, pursing her lips in discontent, as she rubbed my arm up and down, “Well, he’s gonna get his shit dragged around The Bronx for a little bit in the trunk, then Kendrick and Callem will make sure he knows not to fuck with any of my friends.”

I smiled as I sniffled, side of my face pressed against Jeff’s chest, “Thanks, girl.”

“I gotchu.”

Something deep down in my gut told met hat this wasn’t the last I’d see of Anthony, though.

“Are you okay?” Jeffrey asked as we sat in the back of the SUV on the way back to Norman’s apartment.

“Not really. Just kinda wanna forget.” I replied honestly, pushing myself closer into Jeffrey’s side.

“I’ll get a nice bath drawn when we get back, pour some wine, get you out of those uncomfortable shoes and that makeup off your face.”

“Sounds like heaven, Thank you, Jeffrey.” I cooed, loving that idea.

“Anytime, Sweetheart.”

“So, Cardi gave me some...party favors...” I began, shifting through my purse as Jeff ran the bathwater into the over-sized Jacuzzi tub.

“Oh yeah?” He quirked an eyebrow, “What kind of ‘party favors’?”

“Um, the nose candy kind?” I answered, revealing the small baggie in my hand.

Both of Jeffrey’s eyebrows shot up as he raised himself to his full height from where he had been bent down by the water, “Oh yeah? I haven’t partied like that in years.”

“Me either.” I chuckled, flicking the bag a couple of times to settle the contents at the bottom, “It’s not a lot, but should be enough for a little...” I trailed off realizing how close Jeff was standing to me, his arms boxing me in against the counter as I looked up into his chocolate eyes.

“Fun?” He finished my sentence for me, hunger taking over his already dark irises.

“Yeah....fun.” I breathed before he lowered his mouth to mine to tug on my bottom lip.

“Well, than, sugar, let’s have some fun...”

Part Nineteen (MID-SERIES FINALE) released 9/25/2017

#jdm fanfiction #jdm x ofc #jeffrey dean morgan x ofc #jeffrey dean morgan x oc #jdm x oc #jdm x reader #jdm x you #negan fanfiction #the walking dead rpf #jeffrey dean morgan rpf #jdm smut #smut #older man/ younger woman #older man x younger woman #jeffrey dean morgan smut #john winchester smut #supernatural rpf #supernatural fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction

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jemej3m · 6 years ago

Text

to the moon and back (p2)

:))

tw: murder and corpses, aftg typical stuff (no violence or graphic depictions, just some teen boys finding out more than they bargained for

part one | part two | part three

When Kevin saw Andrew leaning against the lockers, he floundered. Wymack was right behind him, spotted Andrew and huffed loudly.

“I’d ask how you got in here, but I’m not sure I want to know.”

“Why are you here?” Kevin spluttered. “Are you watching the game? Do you want to play?”

“Fuck off, Kevin.” Andrew said calmly.

He forgot Kevin’s blubbering when Neil rounded his much taller position partner, only mildly surprised that Andrew was there already. The call had been twenty minutes ago: He’d been out the door in ten, and swerved into someone else’s parking spot seven minutes later. Now he was here, watching the Palmetto High Foxes come off after warm-ups to gear up.

“Where will you be?” He was flushed and sweaty, eyes bright and aware.

He gestured around him with a weak wave of his hand. Neil nodded and moved to change. He, strangely enough, wore a full-sleeved shirt under his padding.

Aaron made a startled noise, seeing his brother in the locking room. “What are you doing here?”

“Rude.” He answered. His avoidance of the question made Aaron nod simply, understanding the underlying message of later. He ignored Matthew Boyd, Seth Gordon and the other freshman sport junkies as they changed.

Neil lingered until they’d all vanished and he had thirty seconds to get on court.

“Thanks,” He tried. Andrew shoved his shoulder lightly, wishing that he would stop looking so haunted. He much preferred his snarky Neil; this withdrawn, uptight boy wasn’t who’d caught his eye, but who now kept him curious.

“Hurry up, junkie.” He crossed his arms again and leant on the lockers. “Won’t wait around for you forever.”

He nodded, complacent, and ran off to join his team.

Neil Josten looked unfairly good in Andrew’s passenger seat. He was anxious, fingers rubbing over his hidden wrists, shoulders drawn up and chin tucked down, but the further they drove, the more the tension eased. He sent Andrew hesitant glances, waiting for Andrew to ask him the question.

The thing was, Andrew wasn’t sure what to ask. Why was he here? Where did he come from? What gave him those scars? Why has he become so skittish over the past few days? What did he think about Andrew? What did he know about Andrew?

The right question would unlock all these answers. Andrew spent agonisingly long minutrd torn between trying to figure Neil Josten out, whilst denying that he remotely cared.

They were circling Palmetto city, until Josten made an advance for the cigarettes in Andrew’s drink holder. He hesitated, rising up an eyebrow with question. Andrew motioned for him to wait. He nodded.

The decrepit park they arrived at had a rusted seesaw, a pair of swings and a slide with all the paint peeled off its worn metal. There was no one around except for a man and his dog, a few hundred feet away. They sat on a bench and lit up two cigarettes in silence.

“Betsy will whoop my ass if she figures out I still smoke.” It was an explanation, but also an offering.

Neil sat in silence, watching his cigarette wither away. “She’s your mom.”

“Adoptive.” He corrected, watching the reaction on Neil face. He merely nodded.

Andrew decided to give up figuring out the key that would unlock all of Neil’s secrets. They had time. “I’m asking my question now.”

“Shoot.” He mumbled.

“Why do you let your cigarettes burn to the filter?”

Unbeknownst to Andrew, he had figured out the key question.

“My mom was killed today, six years ago. When I was ten.” He looked at Andrew. “She was murdered. By my dad. Does that scare you?”

Andrew wanted to say that nothing scared him, but that wasn’t true. He was scared of heights. “No.”

“Thought so.” Neil huffed. “He murdered her, never went to prison. He’s too successful to let that happen. Bought out the investigation.” He took a slow drag from his cigarette. “Mom smoked. It reminds me of her.” Then, he looked up. “I thought you’d ask about why I called you, today. Or why I’ve been acting strange. Or my scars, or —“

Andrew waved him off. “You called me today because your mom was murdered six years ago by your father. Makes sense that you wouldn’t want to be at home. Makes sense that you’d choose to call me, because you know that I wouldn’t be scared about the idea of murder.”

“Aaron said you bought the car with your mother’s blood money.” Neil shrugged. “All I asked was why the fancy car, and he said that your mother gave both of you up to the foster system, then died in car accident when you were 13. You thought it was ironic to buy a car with her life insurance, considering how she’d died. No one thinks so lightly about death like that.”

“She meant nothing to me.” Andrew waved him off. “Don’t be so afraid to die, Josten.”

He was quiet at that.

“I never believed that these were surgery, or acne.” Andrew’s fingertips brushed over the cheek with knife marks. “It was your father, wasn’t it.”

“I thought we were doing one question.” Neil said drily.

“You got free answers from Aaron.” Andrew pointed out. “It’s only fair.”

“You wont go to child services, will you?” Neil hesitated. “If you go to authorities, you’ll get nowhere, and put yourself at risk. I don’t—“ He coughed lightly. “I don’t want anyone else getting hurt.”

Andrew, momentarily, thought he was talking about himself. It only took a moment for him to realise he was talking about his mother. Of course Neil would be the self-sacrificing type. Idiot.

“I was a foster child for the first ten years of my life, Neil.” It was the first time Andrew’d called Neil by his name. “I’m not going to go to child services. Was this your father?”

Neil nodded slowly. “It was last time he came into town. He stays up in Baltimore, where his business is. I didn’t—I didn’t do anything to make him so angry, but he did it anyway.”

Then he pulled up his sleeves and stared blankly at the grotesque scarring on his wrists, forearms and hands. He yanked the sleeves back down and looked at Andrew with worry. “Why am I trusting you with this? He killed mom because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. He’s going to kill you and me, too.”

He was clenching shaking fists. Andrew thought it was ridiculously unfair that a 16 year old was trying to balance school and homework, sports teams, friendships and not being murdered by a seemingly psychotic father. But Andrew wouldn’t be helpful to anyone if he just wallowed in how unfair life was, or let Neil wallow either.

Andrew made a decision. “Not if we get him locked up.”

Neil looked at him with wide eyes. Wide, terrified blue eyes. Andrew stared back, challenging him.

“I—“ He looked away. “I don’t know.”

“Surely you have some evidence.”

He winced. “I watched it. But if I put myself forward as a witness, he’ll kill me.”

“So we need irrefutable, physical evidence and we’ll leak it to the police.” Andrew decided. “Then you can’t be blamed for a reinvestigation and if he kills you then it’ll go against him.”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I don’t know, I don’t—“

“Hey, Neil?” Andrew leaned closer. The boy looked at him, terrified. “Shut up.”

He swallowed thickly and nodded, closing his eyes. Against better judgement, he fisted tufts of Neil’s soft hair between his fingers and pulled gently.

They said nothing else. Andrew finished another cigarette before putting the pack aside. They sat for a little while in silence, Andrew drinking water and letting the breeze steal the remnants of ash from his skin.

“Will you let me drop you home?”

He hesitated. “The street corner.”

Andrew was fine with that compromise. He was also fine with the way that Neil let his eyes close, head fall back against the headrest and hand hang out of the open window. Andrew didn’t tell him to get his foot off the dashboard, like he usually would. He also found himself looking, too often, at Neil’s relaxed figure. It caused him to swerve and speed unintentionally, the honking almost disturbing the junkie.

His heart rate sped up.

Weak. Stupid. Remember what happened last time you let your guard down?

It cooled him right off. He stared straight ahead and refused to think, knowing it’d lead right down a spiral he was all-too familiar with now.

They arrived at the corner of Neil’s street. He remembered the house, even if he couldn’t see it: It didn’t look large, but once Neil mentioned he hated how empty it was, making Andrew suspect it was larger than it appeared. The high fences and locked gates made the grey paneling and box-shaped architecture look like a prison. It wasn’t out of place in this expensive area of Palmetto, but it looked more untouched than the brand-new houses on the market. Neil existed within it alone, that Andrew knew, and it seemed as though he was practically squatting in the place.

Neil’s shuffling drew Andrew out of his thoughts. He dug out a black scarf, but Andrew would recognise the Evermore crest and red-and-black theme of the Ravens anywhere. Before he got out, he offered Andrew a plastic bag. It was filled with orange.

“What.” He said, unable to form a question.

“My father thinks I go to Evermore. I moved to Palmetto without permission and reroute the funds into a separate account that he doesn’t know about. I said I was going to watch their game this morning. Oh, and I’m not allowed to play Exy, so I need to give my things to you.” Neil admitted.

“Why?” Andrew demanded. For someone terrified of tempting his father’s ire, he sure was stupid. “What made you think that was a good idea?”

“I hated Evermore.” He said quietly. “I really, truly hated it.”

“I hate you,” He said, taking the bag of Fox gear and chucking into the back seat. As Neil clambered out, he said, “Think about my offer.”

He paused, toying with the end of the Raven’s scarf. Then he nodded. The door slammed closed. Neil Josten disappeared from Andrew’s view.

Part of him was irritated at being dragged into — or dragging himself into — such a mess. The other half was desperate to kiss Neil’s pretty face.

He ignored that little voice in his head and went home.

“Are you sure?” Andrew questioned.

Silently, Neil nodded. He had pressed in the gate’s code and pushed it open for Andrew to enter.

His father had left three days ago, and Neil had spent those three days overriding the security system of his home: All the cameras and microphones were blanked out for half an hour, being posed as a minor blackout if his father looked into it.

It wasn’t much of a window, but Neil said it was all he needed to show Andrew something — what exactly Andrew was being shown, he had no clue.

The gardens were manicured, every surface of the house polished: As if hearing Andrew’s observations, Neil gazed around him with distaste. “The house keeper and gardener keep an eye on me.” Neil then paused with a small frown, before deciding to hook his fingers into the sleeve of Andrew’s shirt. It was short sleeved, no where near the scars, so Andrew didn’t react with anything but a delighted shiver.

Stupid teenage boy hormones stupid gay ass stupid stupid.

Neil pulled him through angular corridors and lifeless decor. The only signs of life was a cereal bowl by the sink and a solitary picture on the living room mantelpiece. It was of the three of them: Neil had to be ten or younger, because his mother was standing behind him, hands on his shoulders. None of them were smiling.

Neil pulled back the rug in front of the fireplace: Almost unnoticeable was a little latch: He pulled on it and the wooden planks lifted to reveal a ladder downwards.

“Sick, isn’t it?” He commented lightly. “He keeps the only photo of her in front of where he killed her.”

Andrew was infuriated. People suffered in a lot of different ways: Not many like this. No one deserved this. No one.

“What’s down there?”

“Wine.” Neil shrugged. “Old business stuff. Mom’s stuff. Probably the murder weapon.”

Andrew swallowed. “Let’s go check.”

Neil chewed nervously at his lip. He didn’t give Andrew an outright no, so he clambered down the ladder into the darkness. The mustiness of the cellar was enough to momentarily hide the unlaying stench from the din below. When Andrew was on his feet again, he felt along the walls to find a switch: When he flicked it on, Neil coughed, unsuccessfully masking how he choked on his own inhale.

He’d been right; there was a lot of boxed storage. But the overwhelmingly pungent smell of rotting flesh made Andrew gag. He pinched his lips shut, squeezing his eyes closed as he swore to himself not to throw up.

“Is that your mom?” He managed. They were looking at a body on a blue tarp, naked and decaying. With walls of concrete, nothing had been able to infiltrate the cellar in order to clean up a decaying body. It was naturally decomposing, skin peeling and yellow, blood blackened with oxidisation.

Neil shook his head violently. They turned to switch off the light and scramble up the ladder. Neil slammed the cellar cover shut, tugged the rug over it and ran: Andrew followed, only to witness him throwing up into the kitchen sink. Andrew, instinctively, held his hair out of the way as he grabbed a mug from the nearest cabinet and filled it with water.

Neil slid onto the floor when he deigned himself finished, taking the mug of water and washing out his mouth. Andrew sat in front of him, looking at his sickly pale skin and gaunt cheeks.

“At least we have our evidence?” Andrew said, weakly.

Neil glared at him. Beyond that, Andrew saw the sense of relief. He tugged on Neil’s curls until his head dropped forward, onto Andrew’s shoulder.

They stayed there for so long that Andrew couldn’t feet his legs where Neil had relaxed his whole body against him.

He couldn’t, however, say that he minded.

we love some aftg typical murder worked into an innocent high school au

#all for the game #high school au #part 2 #andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #jem writes

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