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blueseakelp · 4 years ago

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✨childhood storytime✨ (because i do have memories. shut uP i DO.)

backstory for this: i was thinking about taob zuko and his leg and this memory came to mind AND i decided to share it with the entire internet to get it to stop the rent free-ness (content warning for like burns and shit, i don’t think it’s graphic but tell me if i’m wrong)

alright now. picture this. l o n g summer roadtrip (weeks of camping) with one (and i can’t emphasize this point enough) EXTREMELY dysfunctional family. parents are constantly fighting, an three kids and an infant are along for the ride, eldest child was just extremely dumb and lost their phone (who gives an eight year old a fucking phone that was a terrible idea), and they’re in an entirely different fucking state than where they live. (side note: don’t let your future husband drag you along on a camping road trip after you’ve just given birth if he’s not gonna fucking help with your four kids. no i’m not bitter for my mother because she refuses to be what are you talking about)

NOW, shitty fucking car, stage left. it’s already broken down and been towed ONCE this trip, but Parental Units decide that we can make it fucking work. after all, we only have about half of the trip left, it’ll be okay, right? wrong. car breaks down again. tensions are already high and now we’re in fucking fresno, a shitty californian town with the interest factor of the bottom of a boot and the heat of a goddamn oven.

ANYWAYS, we do slightly illegal shit as *fun family bonding* (which is an oxymoron) yadda yadda yadda it entails mostly just riding in the car as it’s being towed, ducking down to keep out of sight, it’s whatever. fast forward to the car dealership. mother is fucking stressed at this point in the trip, constantly taking care of four kids while my father’s off ??? being indecisive and/or a piece of shit probably. and now OH SHIT they have to buy a car because ours is past the point of no return. it’s now good for parts only. we do the whole thing, pick out a flashy and sexy (old and used) minivan, and now it’s time for negotiations because i’m pretty sure we can’t actually afford the price of this car. maybe we can. (money is perpetually tight until we fast forward five years and the Divorce happens and guess who’s making a shit ton more money than we thought?? ding ding it’s Father Dearest!! guess mother and the kids could’ve afforded those new clothes and foods instead of scrounging and saving all that time :)))))) *insert the “it’s free real estate” meme except “it’s financial abuse”*)

SO we’ve got a family of six looking very homeless with all of their luggage in the middle of a car dealership in fresno, hoping we don’t look desperate so we can buy the fucking car and get back to washington before school starts. i don’t remember how it happened that i, an eight year old child, wound up babysitting my six year old brother in an unfamiliar place with no supervision whatsoever, but my best guess is that my mom had a large dose of “I’m So Fucking Tired Of Four Children” juice that particular morning and my dad honestly did not notice and/or give two shits.

scene is set. the eight year old and the six year old, in the little dealership lounge thing-y, strangers milling about, and either ‘ice age’ or ‘kung fu panda’ playing on the tv screen. eight year old me decides, “hey i’m going to go make myself some dealership!hot chocolate!” as one does. i do, and spoiler alert, it’s scalding. my memory is foggy as shit in general so i actually barely remember most of what i’m telling you (*sings nicely* jigsAw puzzle, we’re putting the picture together) anyways, what i think happens next is that i get distracted and spill the pretty much boiling hot chocolate on myself (i just realized this is todoroki vibes as shit except to myself and the burn isn’t as severe. so actually not really nevermind).

now, MY first (paraphrased) thought, being the fucked up child and product of my environment that i am, was “oh shit. i can’t tell mom and dad or else they’ll be mad at me that i did a bad job at watching my brother.” can you start to see where my unhealthy mindset comes from? i’ve Been this way. my second thought is probably “i’m glad my pants are tan so that the hot chocolate blends in” which like. it did not and im pretty astounded because i don’t think my parents ever noticed lmao.

everything happens, i grab a TON of napkins to clean up the spill, i ignore the pain of burning skin, i don’t remember how bad it hurt or if i cried but the answer is probably yes to both, and i try to do it as sneakily as possible so none of the adults in the room or my brother notice. mission successful, no one has called me on my bullshit, i’m in the clear. i plan on keeping this a Forever Secret so my parents don’t find out how irresponsible i am, and continue to suffer through what im now aware was probably a pretty severe burn, until it heals. i never treated it or anything, so it’s kind of a wonder it didn’t get infected and kill me. wow, so cool.

to end the story, i don’t actually remember ever telling my mother about this, although she knows somehow? i was really surprised that she did, but one day i was wearing shorts and she just randomly brought it up to my aunt. outside of that, i have no memory of discussing it. (probably at one point she saw the massive burn on my leg and asked me where it was from, is my best guess of how she found out) my father, if he knows (doubtful), has never brought it up. the burn now is pretty faded, but it’s also been the better part of a decade so i’d expect that. the only reason i know any of these memories are real is because i have the scar to prove it, so that’s fun for my brain. for all i know, i could’ve blocked out almost the entirety of what really happened so maybe i shouldn’t take my word for it. at least it makes for a fun and interesting story.

OH ALSO I JUST REMEMBERED the burn was pretty brown-ish when it first happened so eight year old me thought i got permanently stained by the hot chocolate for a little while there slfjlsjdfldhfslh

so yeah this was one of like two off the top of my head stories about how i probably could’ve died in worse circumstances from my own inability to seek help but did Not. also, just another example of my capacity of secrets, because i have a Lot and none of them are the fun kind.

#long post #burns #okay wow this got a lot more oomph than i though i was just trying to be funny dont sur me #*sue #if anyone actually read this please i’m begging you there are nice things to do #read a book love

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harry-hollands · 4 years ago

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selcouth // harry holland // 2

chapter 2: The Not So Lonely Ray of Sunshine

story summary: Harry was used to living in his brothers’ shadows. Tom was the actor and Sam was the cook and musician. He was used to being second best and genuinely gave up on finding someone who could love him for him. Someone who could believe that Harry wasn’t second best. His mindset changes however, when he meets you. The sunshine to cast away all of the shadows.

teaser // chapter one //

chapter summary: sunshine shines brightest when happy

pairing: harry holland x reader

warnings: none? swears, fluffy, simp harry

word count: 1.8k

When Y/N had forgotten her winter coat, she had mentally cursed herself. She had made it into the theatre with minutes to spare, but she was mentally cursing herself. “How is it that I am the dumbest person in the world? How could I have been so damn dumb to leave my winter coat in Paddy’s car on one of the coldest nights I have ever experienced?”

Being pulled out of her thoughts by Alita, one of the stage directors, Y/N made it backstage, warming up her voice as she made it to her dressing room she shared with her ‘sisters’. Y/N gave a greeting to Sophia, who would be playing Angelica, and was also an American exchange student from California, and gave a greeting to London native, Sicily who would be playing Peggy Schuyler/Maria Reynolds.

“Hey, love! Cutting it a bit close, yeah?” Came Sicily’s thick and cheerful English accent. How she was able to keep out of her singing baffled both Y/N and Sophia.

Sophia giggled and rolled her eyes before reaching over and helping Y/N set her personals down before pulling the girl into a hug. “Hey, babe. Please ignore Ms. I’m Crabby Because Everyone Is Getting Into A Relationship But Me over there.” The Californian stated before pulling away and sitting back down at one of the vanities to finish her stage makeup.

Y/N couldn’t deny Sophia’s claim. Just last week, two of the ensemble members announced to the cast that they had been dating for six months, and over seven months ago, Sophia’s girlfriend, who just happened to be fucking Zendaya went public on Instagram, confirming what everyone was expecting; that the literal goddess was dating a Broadway member.

To be fair, Sicily had had a messy breakup a year prior, and was forced to cut a lot of people from her life who kept shitting on her for breaking up with her boyfriend. Y/N and Sophia were both relieved that the Londoner had broken off the relationship. Sicily’s ex radiated toxic masculinity, and verbally discussed his dislike for both Sophia and Y/N in front of their faces. Yeah. It was a lot.

Bored because the turntable on stage was refusing to work, Y/N decided to FaceTime Paddy to pass the time. During the whole call, Y/N was keeping her voice warm, and practiced harmonizing with Sophia and Sicily. After an announcement that the turntable was finally cooperating, Y/N rushed a goodbye to Paddy, and told him that the Hamilton Instagram page would be going live, so anyone could find out what goes on behind the scenes.

After running through their first dress rehearsal, and polishing up certain scenes, Alita, the stage manager had dismissed everyone. Y/N, Sicily, and Sophia made their way to their shared dressing rooms, wiping off their tear stained makeup. Sophia was taking off her ending dress, and Sicily was looking at her phone.

“Y/N, love, you are fucked.” Came the blunt voice of Sicily.

“Why?”

“It’s fucking snowing out, and it’s negative one degrees Celcius!”

“Fuck! I left my coat in Paddy’s car. Shit.”

Just as Sicily was about to make a teasing comment, Y/N’s phone went off, causing all three of them to jump.

“Bloody hell Y/N/N! Why is your ringer so loud?”

“Oh shut it Sicily. You’re ten times louder.”

“Only for you Soph!” Sicily remarked, with a wink.

“Shut up both of you! I’m trying to text Paddy back, and I can’t hear any of my thoughts!”

“Oops. Sorry.”

“Yeah. Sorry, love.”

Y/N rolled her eyes as the two continued to bicker quietly. She began typing intently, before pocketing her phone in her tote bag, and beginning to shed the layers of her Eliza costume. After the three women packed up, they all headed out the theatre doors, and hugged each other.

Sophia ran to Zendaya’s already familiar car, while Sicily hailed a taxi to take her to the tube. Y/N was still mentally cursing herself, as she wrapped her thin sweatshirt around her frame. “I really need to learn to wake up to my alarm.” The frozen girl muttered.

Waiting underneath the theatre awning for twenty minutes was probably the longest twenty minutes of Y/N’s twenty one years of life. As soon as she saw a car turn from the corner, approach the curb, and the sound of the horn, the actress immediately knew that it was Sora. How? Probably because she saw the girl cackling from the inside of the car.

As soon as she heard the horn of the car, Y/N was sprinting to her savior, and immediately throwing everything in the boot or trunk as she called it, into the car. Y/N, without hesitation, threw open the back door, and slammed it shut, with her teeth chattering, and her hair dusted in fastly melting snowflakes due to the heated temperature inside the car.

“Well don’t you look like Anna.” Sora teased from the front seat before taking off after Y/N had fastened her seatbelt.

“You are never going to let this go, are you? Just because I can sing Anna better than you does not make me her!” Y/N retaliated with a breathless laugh.

For the first time, Y/N glanced at Harry, and she instantly knew what Elizabeth Schuyler-Hamilton felt when she first saw Alexander. If she were in a musical, Y/N could guarantee she would break out into “Helpless”.

Unfortunately because life isn’t a musical, Y/N opted for a smile. And god was she thankful at that moment for the bitter cold. At least if she was called out on a blush, she could always blame it on the frigid weather.

Looking at Harry for the first time was indescribable. The way he smiled back at her was intoxicating, and while Y/N opted out for drinking, she felt as though she could get drunk on his smile. It was strange. How could one stranger make you feel this way in a matter of seconds?

An answer that both Harry nor Y/N knew at the moment...but that’s a story for the future.

Hearing his voice was like a prayer she didn’t know she needed to hear. Y/N had been compared to the sun since the day she was born. And when you think of the sun, you think of the day. And when you think of the day, you think of how much more social interaction goes on.

Most people assumed that Y/N was not a lonely person upon meeting her for the first time. Socially, Y/N probably knew almost everyone in Oahu. But romantically, the girl was so lonely. She was always that one friend who knew who was dating who, and gave out the best relationship advice despite never actually dating anyone.

Sure people had crushes on her, but no one looked at Y/N the way Harry did in the first few seconds. He looked at her like she was the only girl in the world. The only girl that truly mattered. For the first time ever in her life, Y/N felt like she was the most important person in the room...or in this case, the car.

From Paddy’s position in the front passenger seat, he could tell that his best friend, with whom he had grown to be super protective of, and his brother, who he had never seen look so lovesick, were taken. Even if they had just been introduced, they acted as if they had known each other since kindergarten. Paddy was definitely going to bring up how he was the perfect matchmaker at Sora and Harrison’s wedding, and eventually Y/N’s and Harry’s...but uh...again. A story for the future.

The car ride back to the house was filled with melodious laughter, lighthearted banter, and the occasional swears in English, Japanese, and Hawaiian.

As soon as Sora pulled up to the house and parked, everyone leaped out of the car, Y/N this time with her winter coat on, grabbed her garment bags and purse, while Harry kindly closed the door of the boot of the car.

The snow dusted group made it to the front door, and hurried inside, slamming the door shut, not wanting the warm air to escape. Sora and Y/N brushed off the white powder before hanging up their coats and scarves on the clothing hooks by the door.

Laughter and light bickering was heard in the living area, which caused a light smile to appear on Sora’s face. “Glad to see that they survived without us.”

Harry chuckled before helping Y/N with her garment bags, yelling a hello in the house, which caused a few thumps before Elysia came charging down the hall.

“Y/N/N!” The twenty-three-year old Brit launched herself onto Y/N causing the unsuspecting girl to tumble on the ground.

“Hey El! How’s life treating you?”

“Eh. You know. Same old, same old. How’re rehearsals?”

“Exhausting. In fact, I need to put them on and walk and dance in the stage heels we’re required to wear. We just got them delivered today.”

The rest of the group who had stayed behind, came down the hall and smiled when they saw Y/N on the floor with Elysia on top, still holding Y/N in a bone crushing hug.

Elysia, after another moment more, finally stood up, and helped the musical actress stand up. The two shared a giggle before Y/N looked up at the rest of the group.

As soon as Sam locked eyes with Y/N’s frame, the older twin immediately gasped before bouncing up and down in excitement. “Bloody hell! You’re Y/N Y/L/N! The insanely talented theatre foreign exchange student at LAMDA! Some of my friends who attend LAMDA always speak of you!”

Y/N blushed profusely at the sight of being recognized. “I wouldn’t say I’m that good though. Everyone is pretty much exaggerating.” She answered honestly.

Sam continued to shake his head. “No, I don’t think you understand. It’s extremely difficult to get a leading role as an underclassmen for a musical, but for a foreign exchange student of any age snagging a leading role is impossible!”

Y/N just shrugged her shoulders, before introducing herself to the rest of the group. “Uh. Hello. My name's Y/N and I’m playing Eliza Hamilton in Hamilton in a couple of months. I’m also studying at LAMDA, and booking some auditions on the side.” The girl stated softly, slightly intimidated by all of the gorgeous human beings in front of her.

As introductions had been passed around, Y/N was shown to a spare guest room by Harry and Tom where she could change into her historical ensemble and practice her singing and dancing in the studio that Tom had for practicing stunts in the backyard.

As soon as Y/N emerged from the guest room wearing the signature satin blue dress, a hush fell over the room. Any signs of conversations had ceased when they saw the sight of the satin baby blue dress hug the girl’s body.

“Holy fucking shit.” Harry muttered under his breath.

Let me know if you want to be tagged! If your username is struck through, it means that it won’t let me tag you!

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vincess-princess · 4 years ago

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What Is Lost, What Is Found

Chapter 4.

Word count: 3344 Trigger warnings: none

The next time Tommy came accompanied. Vince followed him into the store. The contrast between the two was so drastic no one could imagine them hanging out together. The blond surfing star in spotlessly white pants couldn’t belong near a ragged, long-haired disaster that Tommy was.

Vince headed directly towards Mick. Tommy lingered behind, avoiding his gaze. Mick gripped the edge of the counter so tight his knuckles went white. He wasn’t that nervous even during any job interview. He wasn’t that nervous with Tommy as well; talking to him was easy, in a way. He was open, childish and eager to please, always curious and ashamed of it, and so talkative Mick only had to sprinkle the conversation with “yes”s and “wow”s. Vince, on the other hand, was a tougher nut to crack. Mick had to be careful.

“Couldn’t imagine that I’d come back here,” Vince said, looked Mick right in the eyes and flashing a smile. “But I’m ready to do everything possible to listen to some good music. Everything, sir.” He smiled again. Mick didn’t like this smile. There was something daring in it.

“Today’s “everything possible” includes sorting out records, washing the floor and dusting the shelves. Whatever you choose.”

“Oh,” Vince let out a hearty laugh, “sir, I don’t wanna work. Can I get it for a smile? Or dancing, maybe? I’m a good dancer.”

Vince stepped forward and leaned onto the counter, his face unnervingly close to Mick’s.

“No, thanks. You can dance your heart out after you do some work,” Mick suggested. “Some real work, I mean.”

“What about singing, then? I’m a good singer as well. Tommy can confirm. Right, Tommy?”

Tommy’s been standing behind Vince and staring at the ground the whole time. He flinched, startled when hearing his name. When Mick looked at him, he started nervously messing with his hair.

“Right,” he said quietly.

Vince put his elbows on the counter and leaned over it. Now his and Mick’s faces were mere inches away. Mick could feel the faint smell of his cologne – something flowery. He wouldn’t expect any other slum kid to wear cologne, but Mick would be more surprised if Vince didn’t wear it. For him, it was just in character.

“Maybe I could offer you something else,” Vince whispered and bit his lip, and Mick couldn’t help but recoil. It finally downed on him what was going on.

They were checking him.

Mick backed down so fast he almost dropped his chair to the floor. A wave of anger mixed with disgust once again washed over him, leaving. Who taught the kid to behave like this? What perverted mind would ever teach him? And why? “Listen, kid, I’m not your lay in some nightclub-“

“Why not?” Vince interrupted him. He smiled again, but this time it wasn’t pretty. It was defying.

“How old are you, fifteen?” Mick said, looking above Vince’s shoulder - at Tommy. The boy was red as a lobster and tried to hide his face in his hair. “I’ll be gentle and say you’re not my type – like any other minor. Now, I’m by no means an altruist. I’m not offering free music to anyone - only in exchange for a job well done. If you don’t wanna work, why are you here?”

“Tommy sang you such praises I decided to check you out as well,” Vince replied. His defying smile disappeared, but Mick could see his shoulders relax. Somehow he knew that he passed the test, or whatever they had come up with. He really shouldn’t have felt that relieved. Stupid kids with their stupid games!

“And what do you think?” Mick asked. “Our first impressions of each other might be a little biased.”

“And what do you think of me, sir?” Vince tilted his head, smiling slyly.

Mick sighed. “You’re one sleazy motherfucker.”

Vince stared at him for a few seconds and then burst into laughter. Tommy finally raised his head, looking at Vince with confusion, as though asking, what’s so funny about it? Mick knew he would never tell that to Tommy – it would hurt him rather than amuse. Vince, however, was a completely different case.

“You have your ways,” Mick continued once Vince stopped laughing, “but I’m immune to them. If you wanna listen to some records, that pile over there needs sorting. If not, then get out of my store.”

“You’re not very polite to your future employees, aren’t you?”

“Records, boy. They are waiting for you.”

Vince smiled again, but this time Mick actually liked it. It wasn’t sly, it wasn’t defying, it wasn’t a mask Vince put on to hide his actual intentions. This time, it was excited – like a music-loving kid should be when faced with such a chance.

“Okay, okay, boss, I’m on my way already.”

Mick and Tommy looked at him until he disappeared behind a shelf. Then Mick caught Tommy’s eye and winked. Tommy smiled, at first unconfidently, swiftly switching it to a happy beaming, and winked back.

“Hey, boss,” Vince called Mick a few minutes later. He approached, only to see Vince sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded with stacks of vinyls, holding two records in his hands. “Kiss or New York Dolls”?

“Neither,” Mick shook his head. “What do you young people find in New York Dolls? They’re hardly bearable to hear.”

“Mick!” Tommy gasped behind him and dropped the mop. It landed on his feet with a loud smack. “How dare you!”

“Sir, you barely look twenty-five, you still qualify as a young person,” Vince grinned. The motherfucker knew how to compliment.

“I’m older than you think,” Mick only said. The boy’s words weren’t far from the truth. Mick wasn’t even that old, even though his body tried to prove him otherwise his entire life. His own twenty-five seemed even farther away than it actually was. “And don’t call me ‘sir’.”

“Mick, then?” Vince smiled. “That feels way more intimate, you know?”

Mick opened his mouth, looked into Vince’s innocent eyes, closed it, sighed and went back to the counter. “Put on your dolls, or what they’re called,” he said from there. “I don’t care.”

He heard Tommy fiercely whispering “Don’t put them on! Get some Jeff Beck, Mick likes him.” And then, in Vince’s typical Californian drawl, “But Jeff Beck is so-o out-of-date”. Tommy said something again, now unintelligibly. Mick heard some movement from behind the shelves. “Hey, that hurts!” Vince exclaimed.

Then Jeff Beck started playing.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“I told you kids, put on your dolls or kisses or whatever!” Mick shouted. Jeff Beck stopped playing. Some more movement and hissing behind the shelves, and then Vince’s blonde head showed up above them.

“Maybe we could make a compromise?” he said, in that sweet voice of his that eliminated any attempt to disagree with its owner. “There surely are bands we both enjoy. How about Sweet?”

“Pop music with a rock n’ roll pretension.”

“Judas Priest?”

“They’re all gay as hell out there.”

“Cheap Trick?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Aerosmith?”

“Which album?”

“Toys in the attic.”

Mick spent a second or two mulling over the suggestion. If he keeps rejecting, they won’t listen to any music at all. “Okay,” he said then.

“See?” Vince turned to Tommy. “That works!”

“Maybe,” Tommy still was unconvinced. His desire to please Mick was both complimenting and disturbing. “Mick, are you sure you’re okay with Aerosmith?”

“Don’t worry, kid. They’re alright. They drink too much, but who doesn’t?”

“You too?” Vince asked suddenly, no smile on his face anymore. Mick stared at him wordlessly, frantically trying to come up with a decent response to such an outright question.

“Who the do you think you are to ask things like that?” He finally said, anger building up in his chest. Not so much because of the impolite question as because he couldn’t honestly say “no” to this.

“I’m just wondering. You don’t need to get all up in arms,” Vince said sweetly. “So, do you?”

“None of your business”. Mick clenched the edge of the counter again. A simple, on the first sight, question left him panicking. He really shouldn’t be so worried about some kid’s opinion on him.

“So you do.”

“No!” – Mick exclaimed maybe a little bit louder than he intended. Vince, however, didn’t seem to notice. “I, um, used to. But I’ve quit. I’m clean now.” Blood rushed to Mick’s ears. Thank god they were covered by his hair, or Vince would suspect something. Who the hell did the boy consider himself to be to ask an adult, almost a stranger, things like these? And, what’s more, expect an honest answer?

“Oh, that’s nice to hear.” Vince laughed, his personality back to his flirtatious self. He tried to mask the relief in his voice, but failed miserably. For some reason, it was very important for the kid. “Sorry if I hurt your feelings. I was just curious. You look like a cool rock n’ roll guy, and I know a lot of them drink and do drugs.”

“Keep your curiosity to yourself,” Mick muttered. “And your flattery too.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue. The kid believed him, after all.

“As you wish,” smile disappeared from Vince’s face. Mick’s words must have been too harsh. And Mick totally wasn’t feeling guilty over making the kid shut up and mind his own business. Absolutely not.

“That’s not flattery, Mick!” Tommy opened his mouth for the first time in a while, pulling Mick out of his thoughts. Mick would never imagine Tommy could be that quiet for so long. “You do look like a cool rock star. I mean, your hair looks fabulous! And your attitude… if I met you on a street, I’d definitely think you’re in a band.”

“Vince, your flattery is contagious,” Mick couldn’t help but smile. That was the best compliment he had heard in a while. “I used to be in a band, some time ago. All of that is over, though.”

“See? I knew it!” Tommy exclaimed. “But why is it over?”

“It didn’t work out.” Mick hated to say that – it still hurt, and badly, - but the truth was more important than his feelings. Maybe if he warned the boy now, it later would be easier for him to accept that not all dreams come true. Maybe Tommy would thank Mick for it - later, when he is mature enough. “A lot of people want to be in a band, few of them actually find one, and even fewer make it big. We were one of the unlucky.”

“Did you try playing with other bands?” Vince chimed in. “Maybe you just haven’t found your band yet.”

“Do I look like a fucking idiot?” Vince’s condescending tone again awoke all the anger Mick suppressed in his chest today because of this little motherfucker. “I’ve changed tons of different bands. I played in probably every shitty bar in LA. I’ve been looking for the band since school. I slept on the floor and stole food from shops because my band couldn’t get enough money to rent a motel room. I did everything possible to make it big. And I still failed.”

Vince blinked in confusion, probably not expecting such a harsh reply, and said nothing. Mick didn’t want to hurt the boy, but the fact that he caught Vince, who could probably outspeak anyone, off-guard, made him feel some kind of pride.

“Oh, Mick,” Tommy sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for,” Mick tried to keep his voice calm, but some of his irritation spilled into it. He didn’t want to be reminded of all those years lost pursuing the unreachable dream. When were they going to drop the topic at last? “That’s life. Nothing goes as you expect it to go.”

“Sorry for asking,” Vince finally spoke, quieter than usual. “It was very tactless of me.”

“It sure was,” Mick murmured. “But it’s alright. You didn’t know.”

“Good.” Vince returned to the stacks of records and began putting them on the shelves again. Tommy returned to wiping the floor. Everything seemed to calm down now.

Still, Mick was uneasy. Unanswered questions hung in the air, and Vince kept glancing at him. He had something on his mind.

“What instrument did you play?” Vince asked after a few minutes of silence. Here it was.

“The guitar.”

“Do you still play?”

“Sometimes,” Mick said. He tried to remember the last time he picked up the guitar. Definitely not this week, he returned home late and his neighbors wouldn’t be pleased by hearing an electric guitar play in the middle of the night. “I usually stay late in the store.”

“What do you do here for so long?” Vince asked. What a nosy little asshole, Mick thought with unexpected warmth. Such attention towards himself both flattered and unnerved him.

“Sort records, wash shelves, count money.” Mick sighed and leaned back on his chair. He felt like he was being questioned by the police, but with more attention. “A lot of stuff.”

“But doesn’t Tommy help you? Why do you have to do it yourself?”

“Because some, hm, friends of his are worried about his feisty ass.” Mick cut off. “Tommy, didn’t you tell them?”

“I, um…” Tommy stammered. It looked like someone was going to have a serious talk with his friends later. “I, well, told them that I come here sometimes.”

“Sometimes,” Mick underlined. “Once or twice a week. All because you and that boy Nikki don’t let him work a decent job.”

“Um,” was Mick hallucinating, or did Vince’s ears go red? “We were just worried for him.”

“I get it.” Mick interrupted him. “That’s why I allowed him to bring you too. I’d gladly let Tommy help me if not for your, as he said, paranoia.”

“But the situation is super weird at best, don’t you think so? You catch a shoplifter red-handed and instead of calling the police on him you offer him a job.”

“Yes, because I’m a person who has a possibility of making my own decisions. Listen, Vince, if you don’t like me, if you find my behavior weird, I get it. I almost called the cops on you, that was probably not the best way to make acquaintance. You came to check – that’s okay, I understand your concerns. I’m no pedophile or a pervert. The three of you obviously need money. So I offered Tommy some. In exchange for decent work, of course.”

Vince stood silent for a couple of moments, thinking. Then he nodded briefly. “Okay. Yes. Sorry. You know, I had, as you said, “concerns”. But I see I was mistaken.”

“Good we figured it out,” Mick cut him off and turned away, for some reason not wanting to look Vince in the eyes. Tommy, staying silent while listening to their conversation intently, turned away to resemble his work, but Mick could swear he sighed with relief. Everything they needed to say to each other had been said. Even Vince ran out of questions and went back to the records.

Mick really wanted to fish out a bottle of whiskey from under the counter and take a few sips, or, rather, gulps. But he had to keep up appearances. He just lied he wasn’t an alcoholic, it would be stupid to prove it otherwise right in front of Vince. Not that he cared much about Vince’s opinion on him. Not at all.

“Mick?” Tommy’s voice brought Mick back to reality.

“Huh?”

“Would you- could you- if we help you in the store so that you have time after your shift, could you bring your guitar and play something for us? I’d love to hear you play!”

Mick knew this was coming. The boys considered him a rock star, apparently, even though his groups’ gigs never got more than a hundred people in. For them, he was a part of the world they wanted to live in. A very secluded and unfriendly, but a part nevertheless.

“Tommy, I usually have customers to serve,” Mick reminded. He hated to admit that, but a small part of his brain was definitely up for it. They were probably the only ones willing to hear him play in a long time, and he missed it immensely.

“After the shift, then?” Tommy looked at him with his big brown eyes, and Mick knew he would submit to those puppy eyes earlier or later. “You said you stay late to do some work, maybe we could help you with that and give you some extra time?”

“’We?’ What, Vince, are you coming back?”

“Why not?” Vince said with a friendly smile. “I’d love to hear you play too. Maybe we can even persuade Nikki to come. He wants to learn guitar.”

“Wow, even Nikki will be interested? I feel so popular,” Mick laughed. Their attention did flatter him, no matter what his feelings about the problem were. “Okay, maybe some time in the future. Oh, if I’m not mistaken, Vince, you sing? You could sing something with me playing.”

Tommy dropped the rag and made a choked sound, but Vince didn’t pay attention. Once Mic mentioned his singing, he as though froze on place, his whole body tense.

It was a low move, and Mick knew it, but today’s cross-examination of him made him a little bit irritated. Or maybe not a little bit. Rather, a lot.

“Erm, I-“ Vince began, then turned to Tommy. “I’m going to cut your tongue out someday,” he promised gravely. “Sorry, Mick. I don’t sing anymore.”

“Why not? If I can come back to playing the guitar for you, you could come back to singing. Maybe, if you work here for a while, you’ll be able to afford a drum kit for Tommy. Almost a band!”

“No,” Vince shook his head. “You don’t understand. I don’t sing anymore.”

“Can I ask why?”

“It brings back bad memories,” Vince cut him off. Something in his voice was making Mick not want to continue the conversation. Something hidden and grotesque.

“Well, playing guitar sure brings back my memories about roaches in all the flats I rented. But I’m not refusing to play because of that. Anyway,” he concluded, feeling he’d already said enough, “it’s a shame that you can’t sing for us, but you do you.”

“Thanks for understanding.” Vince nodded shortly and returned back to the stack. Tommy looked at both of them, moving his gaze back and forth, frowning in confusion. He felt the tension in the air, but couldn’t figure out its reason. What a naïve little boy he still was.

Vince, on the other hand, was very far from being naïve. He might have looked sixteen, but talked like he was thirty. It bothered Mick. Kids mature faster when there are a lot of hardships. And the boy sure had his share of them in his life. Tommy’s optimism and liveliness saved him from that; Vince wasn’t so lucky.

Mick could only wonder what made him like that. And he was pretty sure it was connected with the fact that he didn’t sing anymore.

He wanted to ask more questions. He itched to know what happened, and how he could help. But he knew Vince wouldn’t say a word unless he trusted him completely, and that wasn’t going to happen any time in the foreseeable future. He was a tough nut to crack.

Toys in the attic finished playing. Mick got up and went to change the record. “So, what are we gonna play next?”

“What do you want to play?” Vince said.

“Kiss!” Tommy suggested, beaming.

“Vince?”

“But you said you don’t like Kiss.” Vince frowned. “It’s your store, after all.”

“Yes, but I let you two choose now. Convince me that your Kiss are worth listening to.”

“Okay,” Vince said and turned around to dig into a pile of records, and Mick could swear he saw a little smile on his face.

Honestly, he was ready to listen through Kiss’ entire discography for that smile.

#motley crue #motley crue fanfiction #tommy lee #vince neil #mick mars #found family!au #what is lost what is found #this chapter sucked out the remains of my creative juices #im at the point when i just hate it #but i needed to finish so here you are #it's been only a month xD #the first draft was like 500 words shorter #and i was worried the chapter would turn out short #it's hard for me to write now

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 5 years ago

Note

hey! thank you for everything that you do! you are awesome. im just wondering if you any fic were Stiles is fae? thank you!

We sure do. - Anastasia

till the moon has taken flight (to the waters and the wild) by WindyRein

(5/10 I 1,426 I Not Rated I Steter)

It's not fair! But he knows already that life isn't fair, doesn't he? He can feel the bitter smile curling his lips.He, if there is such a thing anymore, floats and is torn apart and doesn't exist. (but that would be kind, wouldn't it?)

Bloody Secrets by cywscross

(1/1 I 3,085 I Teen I Steter)

Stiles has silver in his veins.

Peter could’ve done without finding out this way though.

Somewhere to Start by Lissadiane

(1/1 I 3,352 I Teen I Sterek)

Stiles has always known that he isn't quite human - the plant life that tends to sprout around him whenever he gets upset or excited gives it away. He's never really fit in among the regular people in Beacon Hills and is determined to wait it out, go to college, and find somewhere to belong. He's forced to abandon those plans, however, after he desperately agrees to enter into an arranged marriage to save his father's life.

An arranged marriage with an angry, sometimes furry dude with trust issues. It's all very Beauty and the Beast, without the singing candlesticks.

Dance Under the Moonlight by Therapeutic_Steter

(2/2 I 3,440 I Mature I Steter)

Fae!Stiles saving Peter from Pack's stupidity and washing his hands of them. Please?

The Other Side by Green

(1/1 I 3,769 I Explicit I Steter)

Stiles doesn't know anything about his father, only what his mother told him, that he's human. Despite her words, Stiles has had his doubts. So when the queen sends him through the veil, he's nervous and isn't sure what to think.

Seven Years Falling by InfiniteAlexisA

(1/1 I 3,880 I Not Rated I Sterek)

“I don’t mean to!” Derek yelled throwing his hands in the air.“DON’T YELL AT ME!” Stiles screeched, his entire body going up in flames.This is what Derek gets for dating a fire elemental.

we're not so different (you and i) by colferstilinski

(1/1 I 5,621 I Explicit I Sterek)

For many of the fairies that lives here, Utopia is their sanctuary—haven, in other words—and why shouldn't it be? It never rains on this stretch of meadow, the clouds in the skies always pink with interest and it smells like the breaking of spring every dawn and dusk.

Stiles detest it, the least to say.

It’s too much and he hates swinging along with the status quo with the other fairies. Yeah, with their blooming shades of colours and the shimmering, silken tunics they don on and fuck, the limitless sparkles. There’s even a new trend going on with the younger generation where they gather allium blooms to form a flower crown, oh—with added glitter!—and it makes Stiles wants to roll his eyes.

Or the fic in which Stiles is a fairy and wants to escape the horrendous, boring world of fairyland to have an adventure. And by adventure, he means meeting Derek. The plant. Or... not-so plant.

Cold Iron by the_problem_with_stardust

(5/5 I 5,641 I Teen I Sterek)

Derek thought the disaster that ended with Kate Argent almost burning down his family home was a relationship worst-case scenario. So, when Dr. Deaton reveals that his current girlfriend is not what she seems, Derek is ready to swear off romance forever. In an attempt to escape his well-meaning (but insanely overbearing) family, Derek volunteers to take over remodeling the small cottage that was left to the Hale siblings in his grandmother’s will. Connemara is nothing like California, and Derek feels like his luck just might be looking up.

salt and a waltz by The Byger (Byacolate)

(1/1 I 7,433 I Explicit i Sterek)

"Not that lubed-up Q-tips aren’t the sexiest thing in the world, but I kinda want to know what it’s like, you know. To be impaled on your huge dick without actually being impaled.”

“It was about to get sexy there, but you shot the mood right in the face.”

In which Stiles is a faerie and Derek is sick and tired of not being able to fuck him.

Don't You Wanna Be My Sky? by WhoNatural

(1/1 I 9,420 I General I Sterek)

Stiles got ratted out by the Realm Guard for sneaking off with Scott a total of seven times before his dad buckled, promising sabbatical once Stiles reached Faehood, and enough Earth culture in the meantime to have him talking like a born-and-bred Californian teenager.

He just didn’t have the tan.

(Or, in which Stiles is a Frost Fae sent to the Earth Realm on the Fae version of Rumspringa and immediately falls head-first into a Coffee Shop AU)

No Love in Idleness by Elpie (Horribibble)

(2/2 I 11,687 I Explicit I Sterek)

Stiles is the sole grandchild of none other than Robin Goodfellow, the most mischievous faerie ever to wreak havoc among the Folk and Man alike. To the people of Beacon Court, he is at best a merry wanderer of the night.

At first, Ser Derek is inclined to agree, but the little bird on his shoulder has quite a bit to say about that.

Trees are always a relief after dealing with people (except when they aren't) by ravelqueen

(1/1 I 15,889 I Mature I Sterek)

Derek Hale decides to become a hermit before he reaches 25. Too bad he picked Beacon Hills as his retirement home.

(Or the one where Stiles is a wood nymph/pixie/human hybrid who falls in love with his new grumpy werewolf neighbour)

Broken People Get Recycled by poemwithnorhyme

(1/1 I 16,389 I General i Sterek)

Nothing is ever just calm in Beacon Hills. No, something always has to go wrong, and this time, it's Stiles' turn in the spotlight. That doesn't mean he has to like it. Post S2 AUFae!Stiles

The Magic's in the Coffee by xxxillusionxxx

(8/8 I 17,596 I Explicit I Sterek)

Ever since the tall, muscled, leather-clad werewolf had begun his daily coffee routine at the Skullery—a horrendous name in Stiles’s opinion, but his boss was a skeleton who thought he was terribly clever—an impromptu competition developed among the baristas.

When Trust is Everything by hellbells

(12/12 I 27,913 I Teen i Sterek)

For a secret to remain true then only one person can know it; if not then it will come out. Beacon Hills is the converging point of several secrets all wrapped up in the supernatural. For Stiles, the unravelling of several will let him find peace, love and safety in the arms of his true mate. The only question is can he trust a Sourwolf and his pack well enough to show his true self.

It just might be the one thing between Beacon Hills and safety!

(Or observe the really awkward distrustful courtship between a Sourwolf and a hidden Fae Mage)

A Little Bit of Sunshine by 100KlicksAway

(21/? I 29,600 I Mature I Sterek)

Stiles woke with a start, dreams of pixies flitting around his head. He’d dreamed… He’d dreamed that he was a wolf? Or…. He wasn’t sure. Something with fangs… His mouth had been dripping blood in his dream, and when he woke, he could still taste the thick copper taste coating his mouth.

Stiles has been working hard for the pack since Scott was bitten. They leave him out more and more frequently, though, until Stiles realizes that he's strictly unnecessary. Then, the pack's activities throw him into danger and he ends up in a shitty situation with no one helping him.

Stiles leaves Beacon Hills. He doesn't care anymore, he just... Needs out.

The Last Chills of Winter by LeeHan

(1/1 I 42,525 I Explicit I Sterek)

“He didn’t magically charm me,” Derek shot back in his defense.“Oh, so he just regular charmed you?” Laura said with a smirk.“What? No,” Derek growled.“Was he hot?”“No! He just—“ He just had a laugh like a sun shower. Fuck.

We Follow Darkness Like a Dream by GreenasCole

(10/10 I 51,106 I Mature I Sterek)

When a mysterious note is left on the Stilinski's door it leads Stiles and his best friend Scott out into the woods on quest for answers about Beacon Hills's most infamous tragedy. After a surprise encounter with a monstrous wolf the two boys are hurled into an ancient and terrifying world, only for Stiles to discover he was secretly a part of it all along. Will he manage to survive the insanity of Fae politics and avoid the enemies that are suddenly crawling out of the woodwork to find a place in this new world? Or will the very revelation of his existence be the catalyst that plunges both worlds into war and chaos? And why can't Scott just stop teasing him every time he catches Stiles looking at their new "friend" Derek too long?

Laughter in the Dark by Starshaker

(13/? I 56,148 I Mature I Sterek)

Stiles is a fae. A trickster spirit with too much curiosity for his own good and a knack for getting into trouble. When he's just trying to help things don't go to plan and coincidences don't seem to end up for the better.Trapped, isolated and aching to get home, though it's better than what Gerard would have had planned for him initially, Stiles learns to deal with his new set of circumstances.

The Fairy's Wolf by kuki

(57/? I 90,602 I Explicit I Sciles)

In a world where non-humans mingle with humans in public schools until they became of age, about high school age, going instead to a specialty finishing school, a young halfling fae fights to stay with his friends. His fear of losing touch with his best friend, a young Alpha werewolf, has the pair pushing their relationship to the edge; and their relationship has the world on the brink of war.

-or-where I apparently ship Skittles hard now, hate myself with this work load on top of my school work, switch up species because f-u that's why, make up mythology, and try to give Derek a nice life.

Where You Still Remember Dreaming by yodasyoyo

(15/15 I 95,612 I Explicit I Sterek)

“What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Balto.”

“What’s yours?”

“Stiles.”

Derek raises an eyebrow. That isn’t his real name. There’s no way. But now he thinks about it, he has a vague memory of someone, probably Uncle Peter, telling him that with the fae, names have power. “I’m Miguel,” he says.

“Lie.”

“Are you trying to tell me your real name is Stiles?”

Stiles runs his tongue across his teeth and considers Derek carefully. “Fair enough,” he says, “Miguel it is.”

Grabbing his groceries and pocketing the change, Derek turns to leave; he’s nearly at the door when Stiles calls out, “By the way, Miguel, if you’re interested, it’s two for one on bags of kibble at the pet store down the street.”

Derek doesn’t look back, doesn’t hesitate, just raises a hand and flips him off on the way out.

#teen wolf #sterek #sciles #steter #stiles stilinski #peter hale #scott mccall #derek hale #fae!stiles

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elsb-hrngtons · 5 years ago

Text

The Seaside Blues Cafe

Hello Lovelies so this was an absolutely gorgeous prompt form Rhythm_Smith

so i received this absolutely gorgeous prompt from Rhythm_Smith for HfBLM:

Several years after cannon (with a s3 divergence where Neil is the one possessed by the mind flayer ) Steve and Billy own a cafe by the beach called The Sea Side Blues Cafe and Billy proposes.

i really hope you like it, its given me all the warm fuzzies writing it!

please call see this wonderful moodboard @gideongrace made for it <3

links to Ao3 in the notes.

June 1995

Somewhere just off of the broadwalk near Santa Monica Pier is a little cafe, inside there are a mismatch of tables and chairs, bean bags and bookshelves that line nearly every wall, fairy lights strung across the ceiling casting the cosy interior in dazzling colour. Chalkboards take up the wall behind the counter, with the daily specials scribbled on in a multi-coloured scrawl, where there are not bookshelves there are posters with sayings like ‘Love is Love” and “respect the rainbow”. Outside under where the awning casts much needed shade from the relentless Californian sun are two sets of tables and chairs, each complete with an ashtray and menus, between them is a black A-board that reads with big fancy letters “ALL ARE WELCOME” “Live Music Every Saturday”. Business was booming.

Billy and Steve have worked hard to get where they are, it hasn’t always been easy, but then they both know more than anyone else things worth having rarely ever are. They’ve been together since Starcourt, when Neil possessed by the mindflayer almost killed them all, and Billy in a blaze of glory risked everything to take him down. When the dust had settled and Billy was left lying on the cold tile floor of the food court, impressive wounds to his sides and chest, miraculously having missed any vital organs, blood pooling around him, Steve couldn’t help but chastise him for risking himself like that.

“I couldn’t let him win pretty boy”

“You’re so stupid Billy, you could have died”

“Not dead, Just hurt, how about you kiss it better?”

And Steve did.

The rest so they say is history, once Billy was released from hospital, with a large pile of NDA’s to sign and an impressive payout of hush money/compensation from the good old US government, he wasted no time in telling Steve exactly how he felt, and for the first time in his godforsaken life, something went his way, because Steve as it happens felt the same way. It’s not long after that they pack up their belongings and drive west, drive home.

The years to follow are filled with so much joy, love and laughter, two boys who’s orbits crashed into each other, inseparable now, unable to live without the other even in the midst of petty arguments.

It was with Billy’s government money they were able to send Steve to culinary school, where he excelled at Pastry, and with Steve’s baking prowess and Billy’s creativity they opened their own business, a little cafe called the Seashore Blues Cafe, just off the broadwalk near Santa Monica Pier.

It’s just another morning in the small corner of the world they’ve built for themselves, the sun is shining high in the sky, breeze rolling off the sea as Billy wanders down from their apartment above the cafe to help Steve open up shop. Steve’s already been up and working for a few hours, lovingly creating all his delicious treats to sell to their customers that day. The cafe smells like freshly brewed coffee with hints of vanilla and cinnamon, and as Billy walks out from their little kitchen out back and through to the front of house he’s struck in awe at just how beautiful Steve really is. He’s sat at table by the window, mid morning sun streaming through shrouding Steve in a halo of light, his soft brown hair flops over his face which has specks of flour dusted on his cheeks, silver wired glasses balance precariously on the bride of his nose, he’s got a pile of their mail on the table and he’s reading something, cute little crease between his brow as he studies the words in front of his face. As Billy approaches closer he notices the letter in question is embossed with gold leaf calligraphy, fancy. Whatever he’s reading it looks to be something important, and Steve doesn’t seem too pleased to be reading it at all.

“What you got there pretty boy?” Billy asks which startles Steve who clearly didn’t hear Billy walk in, he looks up and gives Billy a tight lipped smile as he hands over the offending piece of paper. Billy glances over it and sure enough in big shimmery cursive it reads ‘ Together with their parents Nancy Elizabeth Wheeler and Jonathan Christopher Byers invite you to join them in celebrating their marriage’ so its a wedding invitation that has Steve looking so glum.

“Mazel Tov” Billy deadpans

“Yeah” Steve sighs

“I mean it’s good news right? Wheeler finally making an honest man out of Byers and all” Billy questions as he slides onto the chair next to his boyfriend and gives him a chaste good morning kiss.

“I mean yeah it great, it’s really great, fantastic really” Steve begins to ramble “but..”

“But you’re still sore about Wheeler ditching you for Johnny boy?” Billy asks, it’s not at all mean and Billy is long past being outwardly insecure about Steve’s past relationships, but he can’t help but feel that old familiar pang of jealousy and suspicion make a home in his chest, always worried that this little slice of heaven they’ve carved out of near on a decade of hard work and prejudice will never be enough for Steve, that he will never be enough for Steve.

“No no that’s not it.. It’s just” Steve seems to falter, can’t find the words to say can’t do his feelings justice with the spoken word.

“It’s just what baby?”

“Doesn’t it make you sad?”

“Does what make me sad?”

“You know.. That we can’t have that” Steve snatches the invitation out of Billy’s hand and throws it across the table, Billy watches as it slides straight off and floats gracefully to the floor, gold lettering catching the light, glinting and shining mocking Steve as he begins to wine and tug at his hair, something he started doing whenever he got stressed of worked up. Billy takes hold of Steve’s wrists, makes sure his grip is loose and gentle so Steve can pull away if he wishes to do so, he doesn’t, Billy brings his hands down in front of them both on the table and places both his over Steve’s holding them, rubbing soothing circles onto the backs of Steve’s hands with his thumbs.

“I mean it sucks for sure, but there’s not much we can do about it, no point dwelling on it” Billy tries his best to be gentle to be soft, its what Steve needs in this moment, Steve huffs out a sigh and stands up, brushing the creases out of his apron as he goes.

“Yeah i guess you’re right, c’mon let’s get this place open” Billy watches as Steve disappears into the kitchen, when he’s out of sight he gathers the rest of the mail, stoops down to pick up the discarded invitation, assesses it once more and as he reads the RSVP details he’s struck by inspiration. He places the invitation to the back of the pile and can’t help the smirk on his face as he wanders around the counter to switch on all their lights.

---

“So let me get this straight” Max says down the phone her tone incredulous and honestly Billy can’t blame her, what he’s asked of her is a pretty mean feat “ you want me to somehow gather the party and drag them all the way to California and not tell them why?”

“Exactly” Billy is standing behind the counter of the cafe, his side turned to the hustle and bustle of the dining area, where their patrons sit chatting happily, while Lucy, their waitress goes between tables taking orders and checking in. Billy curls the cord of the wall mounted phone around his finger, he’s antsy Steve’s due back from running errands and could walk through the front door any minute now, he keeps one eye on the door and jumps slightly every time the bell above it jingles.

“And you want me to make sure no one tells Steve we’re coming?”

“Yep.”

“And how please tell me dear brother, do you expect me to do that?” Billy used to flinch whenever anyone referred to him as Max’s brother, but after years of rebuilding a bond that was tinted so long ago by pain and bitterness, all he feels is a warm fondness at the title.

“I dunno! Can’t you get El to do her mind shit or whatever it is she does”

“It doesn’t work like that Billy!” Max all but yells down the phone

“Okay okay, well maybe you can tell the rat pack why.. Actually no. You can tell everyone but Henderson” Billy corrects himself, knows full well if Dustin got wind of his plans, not only would he receive yet another shovel talk from the little gremlin, but there’s a strong chance he could actually blow his big scheme altogether.

“Why not Dustin?”

“Because shitbird. Curls is physically incapable of keeping a secret and I don't want him to spoil it, you hear me?”

“Loud and clear”

“Thank you” Billy breathes a sigh of relief but its short lived as he hears the familiar jingle of the bell above the door and catches sight of a dishevelled and winded Steve come strolling through the door “Shit i gotta go, talk later”

“Yeah okay.. Oh Billy?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really proud of you, and happy” She hesitates as she says the next part “i love you”

It still takes Billy’s breath away when she says it, it's not something they say very often to each other, but each time they do he knows it’s genuine and that though alone is enough to make his heart rabbit in his chest, he still feels guilt at the way he treated her in the early years, feels her love isn’t deserved at all, nonetheless he has it and he loves her too.

“Yeah Yeah, you too Mad Max” he tries to sound unaffected but his voice wavers at the end, has no time to compose himself though because Steve is right next to him, he slams the phone back into the receiver with a little more force than was strictly necessary and spins round to greet his lover with a toothy grin.

Steve leans in to peck Billy on the cheek, soft lips lips contrasting with rough stubble, he pulls back with a dopey smile.

“Was that Max?”

“Yeah she says Hi by the way”

“Sorry I missed her, what was she calling about?” Steve asks

“Oh you know just checking in” Billy tries for nonchalant, shoves his hands in his pockets to help with his casual facade, Steve isn’t buying it, he raises one eyebrow and fold his arms across his chest, he’s got a dumb smug smirk plastered on his face as he leans his back against the counter.

“Max never calls just to check in”

“Well she was today pretty boy” Billy’s defensive, hates lying to Steve, hates being caught in a lie, but needs must and all. “Anyway shouldn’t you get back in the kitchen? I’m sure Ricky’s dying for a smoke break”

“Fine” Steve huffs, pushes off the counter and makes his way back to the counter, just as he disappears through the door he calls over his shoulder “this conversation isn’t over by the way. I’ll find out why Max called”

Billy can’t help but roll his eyes but it’s all in good humour.

“Sure thing Beautiful”

---

It’s taken a monumental amount of planning and tantrums and narrowly avoiding being the number one suspect in the double homicide of MIke Wheeler and Dustin Henderson, but here he is, it's the big day and he feels like he’s about to throw up.

He’s been pacing the cafe floor, burning a hole in the wood flooring with his anxious back and forth, religiously checking his back pocket to assure himself of the safety of the ring he has stashed away in there, and it hasn’t magically disappeared in the last 10 seconds. The ring he almost had a breakdown over finding, almost threw the towel in and called whole thing off because he needed it to be perfect,needed it to be right, and had it not been for Robin’s intervention and her dragging him to some of the more alternative jewelry stores LA had to offer, he might not have found one at all. He hopes Steve likes it, hopes above all else Steve says yes, because if he doesn’t Billy’s not sure he’ll survive that kind of heartbreak, might have to take a long walk off Santa Monica pier and let the ocean wash him out of existence.

The party have all been helping set up and decorate the cafe which has been closed for the day, as far as Steve is aware the space has been hired for a ‘Private Event’ which are supplying their own catering, giving him the opportunity the spend the day with Robin, who is spending the month in California on a ‘whim’, of course she’s really here for Billy’s big plan, to help distract and misdirect Steve so he’s none the wiser and it truly does remain a surprise.

The place looks beautiful, more so than it usually does, The daily specials board has been wiped clean and in its place are messages of congratulations, love and support for Billy and Steve, somehow Max and El managed to source fresh garlands of various white flowers, all with names Billy doesn’t care to learn, all he knows is they look stunning strung up along the ceiling and across the walls interwoven with the fairy lights that are a permanent fixture of the interior design. Every table is adorned with white table clothes and on each table are vases with the same flowers hung up on the walls, there’s different photos of Billy and Steve throughout the years hung up all over the place, snapshots of the life they built together smiling down on Billy as he impatiently waits for Steve’s arrival. He’s lined the kitchen with hundreds of candles and rose petals carpet every inch of the floor, and he knows once Steve is over the initial shock of it all he might bitch about fire hazards and safety bullshit, but Billy couldn’t care less, it’s romantic and Steve really should appreciate the effort.

The plan is simple, Robin will drop Steve off at the back door, then she’ll sneak round the front and join the rest of their guests in the cafe where they’ll wait silently for the signal, The signal hopefully being a loud and celebratory ‘he said yes’, then the party begins.

Billy’s still pacing, he can’t help it, couldn’t possibly stay still in this moment, he’s supposed to receive a page from Robin any minute now to tell him her and Steve are 5 minutes away, his mouth is dry and his stomach is doing somersaults, he feels like he might forget how to breath.

“Will you stop pacing, you’re making me dizzy!” Max complains from where she's sat sideways on one of the chairs.

“What if he says no Max?”

“He’s not going to say no” she says rolling her eyes

“Yeah as much as I hate to admit it, Steve’s crazy for you, there’s no way he’s gonna say no” Dustin chimes in.

Billy doesn’t get a chance to respond because his beeper sounds from where it’s been left on the front counter by the till, the whole room holds their breath as he rushes over to check and sure enough Robin and Steve are less than 5 minutes away and it’s finally happening. Within seconds the whole room devolves into a frenzy, all the guests rushing to take their place in the crowd, all party members elbowing each other to push their way to the front, Lucas and Will holding up a side of a just engaged banner. It's chaos, but Billy can’t think about that right now, tunes the rest of the world out, knows they’ll be quiet when they need to be.

His heart is in his throat as he walks the small distance between the front of house to the kitchen, double checks all the candles are lit and the rose petals that didn’t make the floor, instead are strategically placed on the counter top to spell out ‘Marry Me’ are all in their right home. He combs through his blonde curls and straightens out his shirt, checks his back pocket one last time just as he hears the sound of Steve’s keys turn the lock, he doesn’t know what to do with himself where to place himself, so instead he just stands there arms to his sides, eyes wide, expression hopeful.

Steve walks in fumbling with the lock, shopping bags in each hand from a day spent getting some well earned retail therapy, he’s in a cheery mood Billy notices, half singing,half mumbling some pop song, bobbing his head with his back turned to the kitchen. He hasn’t noticed Billy’s presence yet, or all the evidence around him of Billy’s devotion to him, but as he turns around he’s struck dumb. Eyes wide, shopping bags fall to the floor as he gasps and clasps one hand over his mouth. He’s tearing up as he tries to find the words to ask what’s going on, but there’s no need as Billy drops down to one knee, the ring he spent painstaking hours choosing, presented in front of him as an offering to the only thing in this universe or any universe he’s ever worshiped. There are tears in his own eyes, but he can’t help the smile as he gazes lovingly at the man he’s loved since he was 18, hope bubbling in his chest threatening to spill over.

“Billy, what’s all this?” Steve asks, still stuck in his place at the door, his voice is wavering and he’s shaking, his legs look about 5 seconds away from buckling from underneath him.

“It’s for you Bambi” Billy says, it's barely a whisper and his voice is breaking from all the emotions he’s been storing in his chest all day, betraying him as they claw up his throat at the most vital moment of his entire life.

“Billy--” Steve begins but Billy cuts him off.

“Will you just shut up for a minute… please”

Billy takes a deep steadying breath as he tries to calm his pounding heart and find the right words to say, he tried beyond hope to write some kind of speech for the occasion, but none of the words he scribbled down felt right, felt like they did the love he had for Steve any justice, it was Max’s suggestion to improvise, to speak from the heart, it’s more authentic that way, and Billy couldn’t help but agree at the time, but now all he wants to do is curse himself, curse Max for ever thinking that going without at least some idea was a good idea.

“From the very moment I laid eyes on you I knew I was in trouble” Billy begins, it’s a strong start but now he’s faced with the dilemma of what goes next.

“Here was this guy, the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, and.. And you had this fierceness to you, never backing down, always looking out for others, even if that meant risking yourself.” His knee is hurting from putting his weight onto it or too long, but in this moment he finds he couldn’t care less, bites through the pain so he can continue his declaration.

“And I wanted to be like that, I wanted to be the kind of person those big Bambi eyes would look at and be proud to call a friend.” He lets out a shaky breath as he recounts their love story, he’s never been a poet but his words are raw and genuine.

“So I built myself, modelled myself after you and sure enough you became my friend, you forgave me, gave me a chance and that made me so happy” The tears are really beginning to fall now, his vision blurs and his eyes sting, still he powers through.

“Then I fell in love and I fell hard, and everyday I’d hate myself because I convinced myself you’d never love me back, and some days it was just too painful, but I knew it would hurt more if you were never in my life at all, that it would tear me apart” Steve still hasn’t moved from his place at the door, he just stands there a full river of tears flowing from his eyes, making them shine and twinkle in the candle light, he;s silent as he listens and if Billy couldn’t see the ride and fall of Steve’s chest he’d swear the man had stopped breathing altogether.

“That’s why I didn’t leave Hawkins straight after graduation, even though I promised myself I would. I just couldn’t stand the thought of leaving you behind.” He has to pause as he gathers up the strength to move onto the next part, as he has to acknowledge a time of his life, he’s torn between never wanting to forget and never wanting to remember.

“And now more than ever I’m so glad I didn’t, because if I did, who the hell knows what would have happened at that mall, all i know is I never would have gotten the chance to say I love you, or have the chance to hear you say it back” They’re both full on sobbing now, he has to continue even between hiccups, he has to finish, has to get to the park where he asks the question.

“And even after all these years, I have to remind myself that this is all real, this life we’ve built together is real, and I thank my lucky stars because you made me the man I am today, you made me the happiest man on earth that day, and have done everyday since, and if I can make you even half as happy as you make me, then I know i’m doing something right for once” Billy composes himself, its now or never, time to ask the most important question of his life.

“So Steve Harrington, will you marry me?”

It’s at that moment Steve’s legs finally give way and he crashes to the ground on his knees, still speechless and sobbing his heart out. The seconds that follow time seems to stand still for Billy, moments passing by excruciatingly slow, and the longer they both kneel there a mess of emotions on the kitchen floor Billy’s heart crawls further and further up his throat preparing itself for a steep and swooping descent of agony or a jubilant explosion of incomparable joy.

Just when Billy thinks there's an actual possibility he’s going to die from the anticipation, Steve finally speaks up.

“Yes. Billy I’ll marry you” his voice is barely audible, its hoarse from all the crying, but it's the answer Billy was hoping for and he’s overcome with an overwhelming sense of relief he feels almost faint from it, luckily Steve is crawling on his hands and knees until Billy collapses forward into him, burying his face into Steve’s neck and holding him tighter than Billy ever remembers doing before.

“Really you mean it?” he has to ask, as to make sure.

“Billy i want nothing more than to marry you” Billy can’t help but laugh with unrestrained joy, he feels his heart soar and his cheeks flush, he feels fit to burst, can’t contain it much longer, needs to shout from the rooftops just how happy he is. Steve lifts them both back to their feet and he holds Billy at arms length so he can look into Billy’s eyes. Honey brown meets ocean blue and there’s so much feeling in both their gazes, a storm of emotion ready to let loose any minute. “I love you Billy Hargrove” he declares a triumphant smile on his face as he leans in to give Billy a chaste kiss.

“I love you too Steve Harrington” Billy can’t help himself, he leans in a kisses Steve with all the passion and all the adoration he possess, its bruising, its fiery and it's oh so sweet as he forces his tongue to part Steve’s lips and licks into his mouth, but before he gets much of a chance to deepen it there’s a shout from out front.

“Has he said yes yet?” It’s the unmistakable and irritating voice of an impatient Mike. Both Billy and Steve break from the kiss and chuckle as they lean in and rest their foreheads against each other’s for a moment, soaking in the quiet glory of their love. Billy leans back and hollers towards the front of the cafe.

“Yeah he said yes!” It's met with a resounding cheer from the group of people gathered to witness this, and now the hard parts over the best part of Billy’s plan can begin.

“C’mon pretty boy, our guests await” he holds out the ring from Steve to slip onto his finger and takes him by the arm so he can guide Steve out to the front. Steve’s breathless for the second time in less than 20 minutes as they open the kitchen door and are greeted by all the faces of the people they love the most, all grinning from ear to ear and celebrating for them.

“You did all this?” Steve asks, awestruck.

“Well I had some help, I couldn’t have done it without these losers that's for sure” Billy laughs as he gestures towards the party, feeling victorious when Mike and Dustin look scandalised by Billy’s comment. “And you can thank Robin for helping pick out the ring,” He continues.

“Billy I don’t know what to say, this is incredible” Steve marvels as his eyes wander around the room, taking in all the decorations and photos and messages of good will.

“You don’t need to say anything at all.” Billy says “Listen baby, I know you’re upset that we can’t legally get married, but y’know fuck the law. Let's have our own wedding, right here right now. We don’t need a piece of paper to say we love each other” Billy turns to face Steve takes both his hands in his and stares searchingly into his eyes, looking for signs he may have messed up. “And if they do ever make it legal, and you still want to we can do it proper, just as soon as the laws passed” He rambles on “and there’s no pressure if you don’t like it, we can do something where we plan it together, it doesn’t have to be here and now--”

Steve interrupts Billy mid sentence to peck him quickly on the lips,

“Billy it's perfect.”

“Yeah, you sure?”

“Never been surer of anything in my life”

“Well then pretty boy, let's do this.”

---

Billy’s floating on cloud nine and there’s not a chance in hell he’ll be bought back down any time soon, the day was perfect everything he could ever wish for, a day spent celebrating his love for Steve and Steve’s love for him, a day spent surrounded to the most important people in their lives and nothing in this world could ever beat it.

He’s never seen Steve so happy either, even as he fusses trying to clear away the scattered rose petals and burnt out candles from the kitchen, their guests long gone all retired to their respective hotels giving Billy and Steve all the privacy a newly wed couple deserves.

“Hey Bambi, leave all that we can get in the morning, let’s go to bed” Billy says as he slides up behind Steve and hooks his arms around his waist, kissing and nibbling at his neck.

“Can’t do it tomorrow there’ll be no time to clean and get everything ready to open” Steve mumbles as he brushes more of the rose petals into the trash, Billy places his hand onto Steve’s shoulder so he has more leverage to spin him around so they can face each other.

“What if we just didn’t open tomorrow?” Billy says as he nips at Steve’s jaw and presses against him.

“We can’t not open tomorrow Billy” Steve says riding a moan

“Why not we’re the owners right?” Billy snakes his hand between them and presses his palm against the growing bulge in Steve’s pants.

“Yeah but--”

“Yeah but what? Don’t we get to decide if we open or not? Haven’t we earned a few days off?”

“I guess..”

“So what are you waiting for, let's go to bed” Billy says between kisses. At that Steve sighs and slips out to move away from Billy.

“Fine lets go Tiger” He says over his shoulder as he saunters towards the stairs to their apartment, Billy licks his lips in anticipation, can’t help the extra pep in his step as he follows, flicks the lights off with a flourish and kicks the door closed behind him, feeling lighter than air as he takes the stairs two at a time.

June 30th 2015

20 years to the day Billy proposed to Steve, when he laid his soul bare and proclaimed his undying love. 20 years to the day, that with the only family that ever counted to either of them, playing witness to their mutual promises of forever, they stand with the shore at their feet, the surf lapping at their ankles, brilliant hues of orange and pink as the sunset acts as the backdrop to their declaration of love.

They’re finally here, surrounded by the same family as 20 years prior and a few new, yet fond faces, keeping a promise they made all those years ago to make their marriage ‘official’ to join together legally.

Wicca chairs stand in rows up the sand, filled by guests with joyous expressions watching as Billy and Steve utter their vows to one another, as they pledge a lifetime to one another, Robin stands between them officiating the ceremony, while Dustin stands proudly to Steve's side and Max to Billy’s. The breeze tickles through the congregation, whipping gently at Steve’s salt and pepper mop, as he gazes adoringly into Billy’s eyes, tears threatening to spill despite the dazzling grin on his face.

Robin announces them as Husband and Husband and they receive their standing ovation, Billy grabs Steve and dips him backwards to press a passionate kiss to his soft lips, a kiss filled with all the devotion he’s built up over the last 30 years and promise to continue that devotion for the next 30 and god willing more. The cheers and hollers from the crowd fizzle away into white noise, the sounds of the ocean, the crash of waves, the whistle of the breeze and the call of gulls acts as the song to their first kiss as a proper married couple and just as he did 20 years ago today, Billy feels his heart swell ready to burst straight out of his chest, feels his stomach dip because he’s never been so happy, because even after 30 years kissing Steve still gives him butterflies, because despite all the injustices he faced in his younger years, he stands here with the only person he’s ever loved, his soulmate in his arms and nothing, not the upside down, not the monsters that walk among them, not his dad, could ever compel him to ever let Steve go.

#harringrove for blm #harringrove #Billy Hargrove #steve harrington #my fic #gideongrace #Rhythm_Smith

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bxcketbarnes · 5 years ago

Text

In The Crossfire

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

Words: 2600+

Author's Note: So, I thought of this earlier today and thought I'd break some people's heart a bit. I'm not going to lie. I love this. I love how it turned out. I hope you guys like it as well! Let me know what you thought! xox

"Hey, sweetheart," Billy called out to you and you turned your head towards his voice, seeing him walk down the hall towards you.

You chuckled, shaking your head as you close your locker door before holding your books against your chest. "Oh, hey, pretty boy," you flirted back as you grinned up at him.

He leaned against the lockers, looking down at you. Billy brings a hand up to your shoulder, fiddling with your hair a bit. "You busy after school?" He asked and you shake your head no. "Good. Meet me at my car."

You didn't get the chance to answer as the warning bell went off and the blonde leaned down to press a kiss to your cheek before walking away. Your lips were part in shock as Billy's never made any type of move towards you. It was strictly flirting. Your cheeks flushed as you read your eyes from his back and begin to walk to your class in the opposite direction.

After school ended and you gather your things, you met Billy outside in the parking lot. You bite your lip as you walk his way, seeing him lean against his beauty of a car and his blue eyes dead set on you.

You give him a wave, chuckling as he returns it before he takes the cigarette that's between his lips out and flicks it towards the ground. "So, what are we doing?" You asked him as you set your books into the backseat then making your way towards the passenger side door, opening it before taking a seat.

Billy follows, getting into the driver's seat before turning his engine on. His eyes darted towards you and a smirk comes to his lips.

"You hungry?" He asked and begins to back out of the parking spot.

"Sure, but I didn't bring my money," you told him with a frown and Billy chuckled, reaching his hand out towards you and rests it on your thigh.

"Sweetheart, it's on me," Billy offered and you shake your head, ready to argue when he squeezes your thigh causing you to stop. "Y/N. I want to do this. I even thought that maybe… it could be our first date?"

A gasp leaves your lips as you stare at him, his eyes looking at the road while he drove towards Benny's. "I-what? A date? You want a date with me?" You stuttered and he grinned, glancing towards you for a couple seconds before nodding his head.

"Of course I do. Why do you think I've been flirting with you for so long?" Billy asked and you sat back in the sat, a breathy chuckle leaves your lips as you couldn't believe this was happening.

"I just thought you did that with everybody."

"Nope. Maybe when I first got here but I stopped after I met you," he confessed and your heart pounds against your chest.

"Holy shit. Billy Hargrove is going soft," you chuckled and he rolled his eyes at you.

"Aye. My softness is just for you," he mumbled and you couldn't help but bite your lip, stopping the giant smile that wants to come to your lips.

You leaned over the console, pressing a kiss to his cheek for a couple of seconds then pull away. "Your softness is safe with me," you winked and the two of you chuckle as Billy pulled up to the diner.

You sat on the community pool's edge, dragging your legs through the water as you wait for Billy's shift to start. The two of you have been together for a few months and you've realized that you might be completely in love with the Californian boy.

"Hey! No running!" Billy's voice yelled and you picked your head up, seeing him walking towards you with no shirt on, his whistle and necklace dangling from his neck.

He continued heading your way as you sat in front of the lifeguard tower, his sunglass-covered eyes meeting yours. "Hey, pretty boy," you greet him and stand up from your spot.

"Hey, baby," Billy smiled and now stands in front of me, his hand resting on the small of my back. "This is a pretty nice bikini." You watched as he checked you out, a smirk on both of your lips.

"Thank you. Thought of you when I bought it," you laughed and winked at him. He chuckled and leaned forward, capturing your lips with his.

All the girls around you looked with jealousy swimming in their eyes as their hopes with getting with Billy Hargrove slips from their fingers.

You kissed him back, your hand resting on his muscled peck as a quiet moan leaves his lips. He pulled away after about a minute, kept his eyes on you as you walked towards the end of the pool that people did laps in. You hopped right in, not bothering about how cold it is as it was super warm out.

You did laps for almost fifteen minutes before you began to run out of breath. You pulled yourself out of the pool, furrowing your eyebrows as you thought you brought your towel with you.

"Looking for this, sweetheart?" Billy's voice asked and you picked your head up, seeing him standing in front of you with your towel in his hands.

You gave him a look as he smirked at you, taking it from his grasp. You giggled, drying yourself off as he unwrapped a stick of gum, watching you.

"You ever think about taking lessons?" He asked and you wrapped the towel around your torso before crossing your arms over your chest.

"You think I need them?" You asked and bite your lip, raising an eyebrow. Billy nods his head slowly, shoving the spearmint gum into his mouth. "You the teacher?"

"You know it, baby girl."

You hummed, nodding your head as you take a step closer to him to drag your finger along his chest. "Think you can get me in for a private lesson?" You asked seductively.

Billy groaned, tucking a wet strand of hair behind your ear. "You know I can," he mumbled and you dragged your finger back down his chest before resting your hand at your side. "Oh, so, Susan and my dad aren't coming back until late tonight and I managed to convince Heather to cover the rest of my shift so I get done in an hour. Would you wanna come over?"

You looked up at him with your lips part, shocked that he suggested you come over. He never really told you the reason why the two of you couldn't hang out at his place, but you never pried for information that he probably wasn't comfortable telling yet.

"Yeah, babe, I'd love to," you grinned and he smiled down at you, pressing a kiss to your forehead before heading back towards his stand.

You took your car home since Billy told you that you'd need an overnight bag. He followed you in his blue Camaro, hearing the music blasting from in front of him. It only took about ten minutes until you reached your place, parking it in the garage before telling Billy you'd be right back.

You run around your bedroom, grabbing everything you needed and threw it into your backpack. After you made sure you had absolutely everything, you made your way down the stairs and back outside but not before yelling to your mother that you'd be back tomorrow morning.

Billy gave you a smile as you climbed into his vehicle, tossing your bag into the back. He reached his hand towards yours, taking it in his and you lace your fingers together as he backs out of your driveway, heading to his place.

You greet Max as the two of you head into the small house, seeing her sitting on the couch and watching TV. Billy leads you to his room, closing the door behind you as you plop down on his bed after tossing your bag to the floor.

"What a teenage boy room you have," you giggled and Billy rolled his eyes, stepping towards you after turning his radio on.

"Yeah? Your room just screams girl so," he shrugs and winks at you. You chuckled as he placed his hand on either side of you, leaning his head closer to yours.

Your eyes fluttered closed, heart pounding against your chest as Billy's breath fans your face. "I love you," you tell him for the first time and you could hear his breath hitch in his throat.

"Really?" He asked and you opened your eyes, looking up at him through your lashes while nodding your head. Billy brings a hand up to your face, stroking your cheekbone as you waited for him to say it back. You hoped he would anyway. "I love you too, sweetheart."

A weight lifts off your shoulder and you let out a sigh of relief, a smile gracing your lips. He connects his lips with yours, pushing you back so you're laying against his bed. You moved your lips against his, kissing him back as you wrapped your arms around his neck, combing your fingers through his curls.

The two of you make out for what seems like hours before you just lay in his arms. Your head was resting on his chest as his fingers grazed up and down your back. "Do you still plan on leaving when you're eighteen?" You asked him and he hummed softly, making you tilt your head up towards his face.

"I haven't really thought about it, honestly. I think I might stay here. It's suddenly not so bad now," Billy winked and you chuckled, nuzzling your face into his neck while resting your hand against his stomach.

"Even if you did plan to leave I'd at least convince you not to go until we graduate so I can go with you," you told him and his hand stopped moving against your back.

"You'd come with me?" He asked you and you scoffed, nodding your head.

"Of course I would. I've always wanted to see sunny California and who better to go with than my handsome boyfriend," you mentioned and his fingers start running up and down your back again.

"Fuck, I love you so much."

You let out a giggle, hearing a door slam shut and both of you pick your heads up. Panic spreads across Billy's face as he starts to get up when his bedroom door is thrown open. His dad stood in the doorway, Neil's eyes narrowed on you before glancing towards Billy.

"How many times did I tell you not to bring your whores home?!" He yelled and you scoffed, sitting up as Billy got up from the bed.

"Excuse me?" You asked in a bitter tone, glaring at him.

Neil points his finger towards you, telling you to shut your mouth. "She's not a whore," Billy told him and Neil slapped him in the face. The blonde breathed heavily, his eyes closed as you let out a gasp.

"Sure. I bet that's what you said about all the other ones too. I told you I didn't want them around your sister."

Billy huffed, opening his blue eyes as he looked at his father. "I told you she's not a whore. And, she's not my sister," he grunted to which Neil grabbed his shirt, pressing your boyfriend to the bookshelf behind him.

"What did we talk about?" Neil whispered to Billy as you got up from the bed, feeling the tears forming in your eyes. Billy stayed silent and his dad slaps him hard in the face, repeating his question.

"Hey! Get the fuck off him!" You yelled, getting angry at the fact that he thinks it's alright to just beat on him.

Billy went to protest as you grabbed Neil's arm, trying to pry him off of your boyfriend when the back of his father's hand met your face.

You gasped, falling to the floor upon impact. Billy let a tear fall down his cheek, his throat closing up as he stared down at you. "You little bitch," Neil growled and took a step towards you. You scrambled on the floor, crawling away from him when Billy moved quickly, stepping in front of you.

"Don't you dare lay another hand on her," he growled, glaring at his father who just chuckled.

"What? This bitch has you tied down or something?" You got off the floor, your fingers wrapping around Billy's wrist. "How about this. Get out. Both of you."

You squeezed his wrist, silently telling it it was okay and you glared at his dad. "Done deal. C'mon, Billy," you whispered to him as you grabbed your bag.

Billy laced his fingers with your, keeping you away from Neil as the two of you walked out of his bedroom and out of the house.

Billy parks his car in your driveway, the two of you sitting in silence the entire ride over as you would glance at him every few seconds. You gnawed on your lip as the two of you got out of his car and walked towards the front door of your house.

You make it up to your bedroom without any questions from your parents, giving them a look that said you'd explain later. Billy sits down on your bed and you walk up to him, stepping between his legs as you run your hands through his mullet.

"You want some ice?" You softly asked and the blue-eyed babe looked up at you before shaking his head.

You frowned at him, a bit worried as he hasn't said anything since what happened. Billy looked at your face, seeing your cheek already bruising and he can't help but tear up.

"Y-You okay, baby?" He asked in a whisper, his voice cracking and your heart breaks at the sound.

"Yeah, baby, I'm okay. I'm more worried about you," you whispered to him as his arms wrap around you, resting his hands on the back of your thighs. "Does he do that a lot?"

Billy leaned his head against your stomach, his thumbs stroking your jean-clad thighs. "Yeah," he muttered and you could barely hear him.

You bite the inside of your cheek, tearing up as you press a kiss to the top of his head. "I'm sorry, baby," you let out a cry and Billy pulls away from you.

"Hey, it's fine. It's something I've been dealing with for years. I'm more worried about you. That's why I never brought you around to my place." You nodded as you figured it out when Neil first laid a hand on Billy in front of you. "Can I get some ice for your face?" He asked you and you shake your head.

"I'm fine. Can we just lay in bed?" You asked him and he nodded. Billy took off his leather jacket, setting it on the chair in the corner of your room. He pulled off his button-up, handing it to you and you glanced up at him before taking it into your hands.

He slid off his jeans as you changed into his shirt before Billy climbed into your queen-sized bed. You slide your jeans off as well, his shirt hardly covering your ass. You climbed in beside him and he brought you into his chest.

"I love you," you mumbled and pressed a gentle kiss to his peck before looking up at him.

"I love you too, baby girl. I'm so sorry about what happened. I-I-" he starts and you cut him off, pressing your finger to his lips.

"It's okay, it's okay," you whispered and rests your head against his shoulder. "Stay here for a little bit. My parents won't mind. I don't want him near you."

Billy's heart fluttered as he glanced down at you. Your eyes were closed and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "I'm so in love with you," he whispered and your breathing slowed, signifying that you fell asleep. He closes his eyes, holding you close to him as he falls asleep not long after his eyes closed.

Stranger Things Taglist: @daisyxbuckley @bumblebet-20 @thebookamongmen @makeupbychio @marshmallowtraver @whiitee--sxxl @mattysheelies @lovefilledtragedy @vanitysfairr @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @fangirlinganditswonders @ria132love @rissa067 @sadgirlhours247 @omgdani17 @radicalbilly @lizziejean13 @thecurlsofgod @laurmillen @puppylover12222 @mishaphades @billyhargrovescigarette @l0ve-0f-my-life @smilechannie @imsunsetboulevard @readinthegarden12

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purplebenjy · 4 years ago

Text

Oh babe, I hate to go

They’ve been in the air for a few hours when Benjy feels him slide into the seat next to him.

“Hey, handsome.” Forest says, lowering his voice and heightening his Californian accent. “What are you working on?”

“Nothing.”

Benjy says, closing his notebook quickly. He’d been sketching more lately, nothing of substance, but he’d been inspired after the other night. Now all the doodles were more sketched out figures, figures of men. Men who might have sparkling blue eyes and pretty dirty blonde hair. He’d connected the drawings of someone who certainly wasn’t Cass with random bits of lyrics, his thoughts, and texts he wanted to send but was too chicken to press send on.

In short, it was everything he didn’t want Forest to see.

“Ah, well, Andy went to lay down and Ted’s up front acting like he’s smart enough to talk to the pilot, so...”

Benjy smiles tightly when Forest’s hand creeps up his leg. He wants to tell him that Andy and Ted both know about them, that they’re anything but secretive, and that he’s writing songs about someone who actually made him feel something. Instead, he lets Forest undo the button on his $500 jeans and kisses him back once their lips come together.

Forest plays with him, chuckling against his lips when Benjy gets hard and then quickly sliding his hand away-never giving him too much. Forest starts to undo his own pants and Benjy knows how this is going to go. Forest is going to push him down on his knees, all but force a blowjob on him, pull him back up and fuck him with his face pressed against the seat in front of them. It just seemed so...boring. Typical and robotic and loveless. Colorless. The opposite of what just one kiss with Cass felt like. Forest stills beneath him.

“Problem, Benjy?”

“Uh...” Benjy shakes himself, trying to figure out how to get out of this without pissing off the man who has made him-the man who could just as easily pull him apart.

“No, sorry I’m just tired. Why do you-oh.”

Benjy blushes, seeing that his erection was completely gone. He quickly redoes his pants and moves off of Forest’s lap into the seat next to him.

“Sorry. I just-”

Benjy swallows hard, sure the words will get stuck in his throat, sure he’s going to chicken out again. It’s easier to just let Forest keep using him-it makes things less complicated, makes these trips a little less lonely. Benjy won’t have the courage to say anything, he never does, so he might as well try. No harm in nothing happening.

“I think we should um, not sleep together anymore.”

The words hit Forest as they register with Benjy, and he feels the lower part of his back break out in an instant sweat. He’s sure Forest can hear his heart beating. Forest doesn’t look mad-well, he does. But he also looks....hurt?

Oh sweet fucking hell, does he actually like me?

“Oh.” Forest says softly, his professional veneer reappearing after a few more seconds.

“May I ask why? I mean, lets face it Benjy, it’s not like you’re hurting my feelings whenever you decide to be slutty with your little fans.” Forest’s voice is dripping with condescension and a touch of bitterness. Pointing out how often Benjy slept around was one of Forest’s favorite pass times-Any sympathy he might have felt disappears with those last five words.

“I uh, don’t think I really have to answer that. I-I want us to have a professional working relationship. A real one. And-”

“Is there someone else?” Forest asks, his tone vicious all of a sudden. Benjy balks.

“Uh, no?”

Yes. A little voice in the back of his head whispers. You only want to be with Cass.

“Why would there be anyone else?”

Forest runs his hand forward through his hair once and then combs it back.

“I could go to the press.” Forest says softly, so softly that Benjy is sure he’s misheard him, until his manager gives him a cold stare. Benjy can’t help it, he laughs.

“And tell on yourself too? Please.”

Forest’s jaw sets and Benjy suddenly wonders if he’s going to punch him.

“As charming as it is that you’re threatening me, Forest, I don’t think that’s necessary. I’m not going anywhere-I’m not breaking my contract. I-I just-I like being friends with you, I like our working relationship-I don’t want to keep jeopardizing that by fucking around.”

His heart’s still beating too fast, he’s still sweaty, but this is the opposite of boring. Benjy feels alive.

He stands, jerkily as the plane hits a little bit of turbulence when he gets to his feet, but he steadies himself on the back of the seat that he’s usually fucked against.

“I’m going to go keep writing-let me know when we land. We can both slut it up in London this time, eh? Cheers.”

He gives Forest a sweet kiss on the cheek and then he squeezes by him, walking out of the main cabin towards the lounge. Andy’s napping on one of the couches, and Benjy jumps over the back of the other one, landing on his butt and smiling when he does. He pulls his phone out of his back pocket and unlocks it, pulling up Cass’s text convo and smiling at their only exchange-giving each other their numbers. When they land, when he gets a minute and his phone is off of airplane mode, Benjy decides he’s going to text him.

Nothing like dumping someone and jeopardizing your career at 42,000 feet to make you ready to take a few more risks.

#drabble #famous au #just a little filler

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katehuntington · 5 years ago

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Title: Changes - part one (prologue) Word count: ±1750 words Summary “Changes”: Huntress Zoë Sullivan (OFC) crosses paths and swords with the Winchesters, when the brothers stumble on a case that she’s already working. When complications arise, they are forced to work as a team. Summary part one: Disaster hits the Sullivans, devastating loss ripping the seemingly perfect family apart. The oldest daughter, Abigail, fights to survive the demon attack, all while trying to save her possessed sister. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures. Demon possession, supernatural creatures/entities. Smut, swearing, alcohol use/addiction. Kidnapping, mentions of torture and murder, illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Music: Child In Time - Deep Purple Author’s note: The maiden voyage of Supernatural: The Sullivan Series, and I couldn’t be more excited to share it with you. There are quite a few people I want to thank. @coffee-obsessed-writer, @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish, @winchest09, thank you for helping me with this story and for taking it to a higher level. Everyone who encouraged me to go for it, you are awesome!

Supernatural: the Sullivan Series Masterlist 01x01 “Changes” Masterlist

Los Angeles, California July 21st, 2001

Screams. Horrific, tormenting screams. The kind that causes blood to run cold and hair on the back of the neck to stand up. Desperate cries for help, coming from a broken soul, barely a woman, but certainly not a child anymore, especially not after today. But it isn’t just the pained voice that echoes through the mansion in Brentwood, on the west side of the City of Angels. There are no angels here. On the contrary: the sounds mixing with the anguished voice, is one that comes from the deepest foundations of Hell. “Abi! Where are you?!” The call-out is gut-wrenching, and Abigail Sullivan presses her mouth closed firmly, biting on her bottom lip in order not to answer her little sister. She has her back against the French doors between the dining room and the kitchen, a line of salt on the marble floor connecting the frames. The voice doesn’t sound like Zoë’s. She’s speaking in tongues, pure evil tainting her speech. The battle inside her own body is one she’s destined to lose, but man, she is putting up one hell of a fight. Demon possession is usually pretty straight forward. Black smoke, black eyes, and the host is all but a marionette. It’s rare that someone is able to break through the solid concrete walls that captivate them, but apparently Zoë is giving the bastard some serious competition. Abigail sniffles. That’s my girl.

Trying to calm herself, the older sister leans her head back against the polished wood, listening to the raging demon. She has to fix this. She has to find a way to expel that thing. This family has lost enough.

Determined, Abigail moves towards the kitchen cabinets, opening them and looking for anything that could be useful. She clears the storage area under the double sink and pulls up the lid over a secret compartment, exposing a 9mm, several knives, and jars that contain ingredients for basic spell work. Among the items is a flask of Holy water, which she shoves down the front pocket of her jeans. She doesn’t bother to take the handgun or the weapons; she would rather die than have to shoot her own flesh and blood. A bullet or a knife wouldn’t do a demon harm anyway, so instead, she takes a frying pan. It won’t kill anyone, but at least it will slow the son of a bitch down.

“Oh, Abi…” Abigail freezes. The trace of Zoë that was audible a minute ago is gone now. It’s the demon who is taunting her, its voice amused, almost singing. “We used to play this game all the time when we were little, remember?” the dark voice muses. “You are not my sister, you sick fucker!” she barks back, as she approaches the doors. “Oh, c’mon. Don’t be cruel; humor me,” the demon tsks. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

Abigail takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, listening to the sounds in the other room as she leans against the door again. Her heart is beating out of her chest, as if it seems to realize it might stop moments from now. The thing is waiting, and it will rip her apart once it gets the chance. She has to get to the office; it’s her only chance for survival. Dad’s journal and address book might be a way of sending out an S.O.S. signal. There’s a devil’s trap under the circular carpet at the entrance too. If she can capture the demon, they might live another day. Both her and Zo. With her weapon in her left hand and Holy water in her right, the older Sullivan sister swallows thickly, fearing for her life. The brave young woman takes another second to collect herself. and prepare for what is on the other side. Senses heightened, she waits for the footsteps to pass. 3… 2… 1…

With a fierce kick, Abigail slams the French door into the intruder’s face, giving herself a small window to make a break for the rotating stairway. With panicked breath, she conquers three risers with each stride, pulling herself up by the guard rail. She almost makes it to the second floor, before a force that defies physics pulls her from her feet and smashes her into the wall. Plaster crumbles on top of her when she hits the ground halfway down the staircase, a jolt of pain cutting through her hip when she lands on the edge of one of the steps.

Biting down a cry, she pulls herself together while retrieving the Holy water from her pocket, frantically screwing off the cap. Just in time, because the demon that has nested in her little sister’s body, towers over her, a chilling laugh that is anything but human erupting from Zoë’s throat. Blood has smudged her summer dress, dark red sprayed across her chest and neck. The expression distorts the twenty-one year old’s gentle features beyond recognition and her eyes fade to black. “Hello, sis,” the demon coos. Abigail’s lip twitches angrily, opposite of the pain in her teary eyes. “Get out of her, you fucking bastard!”

She throws the contents of the silver flask into the demon’s face, exposed skin sizzling when it comes in contact with the fluid. It staggers back, hands going for its face as it screeches in agony. Abigail knows this might be the only opportunity she will get and doesn’t waste a second. As fast as her feet can carry her, she gets up, ignoring the ache in her side, and hastens up the stairs. This time she does make it to the corridor, dashing towards the office at the far end. She is flanked by walls painted in crimson handprints, puddles of blood staining the polished wooden floors. As she passes the master bedroom, she doesn’t glance inside, not wanting to carve even deeper scars into her heart, but the image of the massacre pushes its way to the foreground anyway. She can’t afford to slow down, though, because she can feel the temperature of the warm Californian home drop at least twenty degrees in a matter of seconds.

With her fingers still clamped around the handle of the frying pan, she swings on pure gut, her hunter instincts - which she buried not so long ago - kicking in. The flat surface of the pan hits her demon-infested sister square across the jaw, breaking the skin, and for a moment Abigail feels guilty for hurting her sibling. Drastic measures; it’s all about survival now. Not daring to look over her shoulder, Abigail rushes into her father’s office, able to tell by the sound of firm footsteps that she’s mere inches from getting tackled. The demon is right on her tail, but when the dark entity is about to cross the room, it runs into an invisible barrier. Confused and frustrated, the creature tries again, without result. Then it scoffs, the mimic so different from Zoë’s. “Let me guess.” The demon tilts its head, staring down the other Sullivan sister. “There’s a trap underneath this ugly rug, isn’t there?” “Good luck getting out of that one,” Abigail returns, a trace of victory pulling at the corner of her mouth. “Oh, I don’t need to,” the demon chuckles, as it begins to stroll along the edge of the cage. “Seems like the only way out is through this door behind me.” Trying to mask the shake in her limbs from anxiety, Abigail sits down in her dad’s leather office chair, rolling closer to the desk. “We’re on the second floor. I’ve done bigger drops.” “I bet you did. You’re quite the hunter, aren’t ya? You’ve sent many of my kind back to the basement.” Bitter, the demon narrows its eyes, glaring at her. “I’m one of the best,” Abigail counters, before she pulls out a drawer and takes out a black leather journal. “Are you?” the evil creature questions. “Are you really going to leave poor little Zo all alone?”

The older Sullivan sister tries to ignore the words, but she feels the sharp sting anyway. Focusing on the task at hand, she leafs through the notes in search of a number. “She’s awake in here, y’know?” Abigail stops. “She’s crying hysterically, begging you not to abandon her,” the demon elaborates, clearly enjoying the sight of the hunter crumbling. “Begging me not to rip you to shreds and decorate the chandeliers with your intestines.” “Shut the fuck up,” Zoë’s sister warns, snapping her fiery eyes at the creature. But the demon doesn’t yield. It has both ladies right where it wants them. “Let’s face facts here: you’re as trapped as I am. You’re not gonna leave your only family. And you don’t have what it takes to exorcise me. Not without killing her.” “Maybe I don’t,” Abigail agrees, picking up the phone on the desk. “But I can call the cavalry.”

Her finger has stopped at two initials, scribbled down on one of the first pages by her Dad. He never wrote down hunters’ names, not wanting to expose them, should the book fall into the wrong hands. Several numbers of old burner phones are crossed out, but the last one isn’t. It’s the number Abigail dials. Without giving the demon the satisfaction of witnessing her despair, she prays for the call to go through. The phone rings three times, four times, causing her to swallow apprehensively. Goddamnit, pick up the phone. “Hello?” A sigh of relief slips from her lips. “It’s Abi. I need you to drop everything and get to L.A. as fast as possible.” “What’s going on?” “It’s my sister, Zo, she’s–”

She glances over the desk, watching the person in question staring back. For a second, Zoë seems to be fine: smiling eyes, bright and full of life. Like nothing happened, like their lives are exactly the way they were an hour ago: carefree, peaceful, optimistic. No tears on their faces, no blood on their hands. But then her Zoë’s mouth pulls into a smirk, a smirk that isn’t hers. Her baby sister laughs then, the sound of several dark voices erupting from her throat. Her brown eyes flick to black and little Zo is gone. Goosebumps run up Abigail’s arm and settles in the back of her neck, tears threatening to come down her cheeks. Abigail tries to compose herself, making sure the words will come out steady when she speaks again. But watching the definition of evil taking full advantage of the person who occupies such a huge space in her heart, is crippling. Acknowledging her family will never be the same again causes her voice to waver. “She’s possessed, John.”

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read chapter two here!

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northernwinedregs · 5 years ago

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The Lake

On the worst days, I felt invisible. Haunting a body, floating through the streets. Unnoticed by the people I passed, immune to their eyes and mouths. Their laughter, a distance echo; their smiles, a weak heatless sunshine. The way I saw myself, it was cannibalistic: eating humanity, devouring community. I felt like a frozen lake in the dead heart of winter.

And worse, not just invisible, but actively despised. My friendships became long-regretted acts of charity. My relationships became bitter punishments for others. My presence – in my mind at least – was the reason for curtailed conversations, avoided glances, aborted intentions.

Those were the worst days, and they feel like another life now. Another version of myself, one I can never touch, never replicate. A colourless caricature, some textbook definition of my diagnosis.

I remember one particular day I went about my usual routine but made it a mission to notice everyone. Not just walk along with my eyes counting cracks in the pavement. But to be present in the community of my life, to try and find an ordinary belonging in the everyday paths of a well-travelled life.

Never before had I noticed the neighbour whose early start coincided with mine, the way she waved and smiled before getting into her car, coffee in hand. Never before had I noticed the dawn-plodding jogger who took time, mid-stride, mid-huff and mid-puff, to nod, acknowledging how I'd moved aside. I hadn't noticed the way I'd moved aside.

Never before had I noticed the elderly man out walking the dog, nor the way he's always out, no matter the weather. The way in winter he cocoons himself in layers of wool-collared jackets, a homemade bobble hat. The way in summer he'll risk a daring pair of shorts. The way his dog strains at the lead to jump up and say hello, how soft the fur around the neck is. We stop to talk about ordinary things, and no longer is he an elderly man out walking the dog, but Robert out walking with Gemma, and he reads the Guardian, and Gemma will sit on his feet while he reads, and he knows where I work, and he tells me not to let the bastards get me down.

Never before had I noticed the bus that passed, the way it slowed as we happen to meet at a stop, and the driver waves and points to the steering wheel as if to say, “you want this one?” I shake my head, and he shows me his thumb as if to say, “no worries, just thought I'd check.” I think about that act of kindness, his not wanting me to have to wait for another. I think about how much can be understood without words.

Never before had I really noticed my co-workers, their cheerful smiles, how easily my name comes to their mouths. How they know how I like my coffee – black, two sugars, right? - and it appears within minutes of me getting to work. How they ask how my day off was. How he slaps me on the arm and asks how I'm doing. How she's held off taking her cigarette break so we can go smoke together. How he tells me about an album he thinks I'd enjoy. How she calls me 'Store Daddy' ironically because she knows it winds me up. How he says he's glad I'm in today because a huge delivery is due. I think about how much time I spend with these people, how the only thing we have in common is our place of work. I think about how wrong I was about that. I think if this is the mortifying ordeal of being known, then maybe it isn't so bad.

Never before had I really noticed the customers, been so quick to boil them down to their complaints and faults, their routine annoyances. I realise that they call me by my name. That they say please and thank you. That I carry their shopping to the car. That they're grateful for the shortbread I baked for them last week. That I baked shortbread for them last week at all.

Never before had I noticed the people at the gym, the sullen nods, the distracted waves of hands from treadmills. The way they finish up on a bench and ask if I want to use it. The way they ask me to spot them. The way they cheer me on when I'm struggling. The way they want to see me keep coming back.

Never before had I noticed the staff at my favourite coffee place. That I had a favourite coffee place. The way I'm asked if I want my usual. That I had a usual. “Trying something new today? No, thought not.” It's black coffee and the Californian breakfast. How they don't serve it after 3pm but it still comes to my table. Not the table. How they don't put the grilled tomatoes on any more because they'd only be left on the plate. I think about the weight of routine, how it for so long felt like a sagging, dragging thing. But it means consistency. It means you kept getting out of bed and you kept showing up.

Never before had I really understood the messages while I eat. Friends who are very far away ask how I'm doing, or else are happy to share details about their days. He watched a travel documentary about Sichuan and remembers the time we got lost looking for this one bar in Chengdu. She's painting her bathroom and here's the evidence to prove it. She's dressed all in yellow and is happy with her make up. She hasn't had a coffee all day and is feeling the consequences of it. And I think about the enormity of these messages: these are not accidental friendships, they are the people I love and who love me in return. And we have chosen, day by day, from tender meetings, to love each other.

Never before had I walked home with such a glow. I listened to the hum of the traffic, the way kids tell their parents about their day at school and what they learned. The ice-white flare of television screens in dark living rooms. The warm yellow glow of kitchens, the whistle of extractor fans. These are hundreds of houses and thousands of people, who shop and work and sweat and swear and despair and lie and love. They're on buses with me, they're in my supermarket. They go to the same gym as me, eat at the same restaurants. Walk the same streets. Vote in the same school hall, if not the same way. They get lonely just like me. They're in love like me.

I get home and I think about my little life. How I used to think of myself as invisible, a stark, unmoving lake in the frozen depths of winter. And I think about everyone I've met that day, and the enormity of being so seen, so known, moves me. And I realise that even if I'm a lake, then moving cannot help but cause ripples.

#writing #short story #mental health #recovery #twc

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aleatoryalarmalligator · 5 years ago

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Hello,

So, it's funny because i was depressed right? and then as we all know the world kinda got scary, and now it's like i almost have a reason to feel validated in my feelings of hopelessness, which doesn't make me feel great, but does seem to kind of level me in this strange way.

I spend too much fucking time on reddit. I live in Portland, and basically i worked for this really extremely poorly run restaurant/brewery pub called Laurelwood. It's a long story, but the place has the worst management. Some of the people weren't like, bad people, but the way it was managed was really bad in ways i would have to spend hours explaining. They recently did a deal with Ninkasi a little over a year ago and now you can find their beer everywhere, and i guess if you are into beer most people seem to like it, so it's not really a diss on their alcohol itself though i am more of a hard liquor/hard cider fan and beer isn't typically my thing unless it's some desserty imperial stout. They expected a lot from their employees - and because of their poor management they also kind of let a lot of us get away with stuff. So we kind of, as employees created a very strong personal work ethic and friendship amongst one another in turn, we within reason broke rules and had a system of doing it to where we remained competent and managed ourselves, as our management was failing and self centered. If it wasn't the really cool friends i made there - some of the closest friends i have ever had and a ton of first time unique experiences - i learned a ton about myself and grew a lot in that position, i probably would have hated it. the owner was the kind of boomer who wanted to pull in hype of like, young trendy Portland kids, but they really made it look like a bad wannabe applebees and never really valued the fact that we were basically keeping the place open for him, so the aesthetic was kinda lazy and the demeanor between us and our top heavy upper management was pretty separated.

Anyway, since of course i worked in this field when the whole pandemic thing happened, I was naturally laid off. They didn't pay us. They sent us a message saying they just didn't have the money, and it's clear that they hoped to just, kinda, take the money they had left and bounce. The message was vague and demeaning, and everyone in the last three weeks is essentially working for nothing. So, one of the brewers, a pretty nice dude named Brandon that i didn't know too well, went on reddit and was respectful and clear, about how this really messed him up. They not only cannot pay us for the last two pay periods, but they also had a lot of their previous checks bounce. This on top of the financial collapse. To me, it's bad, but i sort of expect a lot of bad stuff now. I mean, this kind of collapse was a long time coming. I imagine it's going to take literally years for Portland to bounce back. I hear horror stories from long time Portlanders about how pretty decent people just became homeless during the recession of 2008, and i have a feeling this is going to be even worse. I feel like thus far in my life, though i've had a lot of really bad luck with relationships and family stuff, and sometimes my health, I've never had to really worry about something like this so directly impacting me. When 2008 happened, i was 19, I had never worked and lived with my parents on bare minimum, but my life had always been that way so i never felt that bad about it, though on retrospect it was kind of neglect. I lived in a factory town that had particular staples and products that never were that hit by the market crash, so that particular town in Idaho never saw a real drop in unemployment. I read about the collapse a lot, watched the Big Short and stuff, so i have my fairly strong opinions about it, but it's never actually caused me to go without. My mother is a nurse at a nursing home, and my father worked at a bullet factory. And like i said, i was relatively unaffected.

The message from Brandon took off, on reddit, thousands of people are seeing it and are disgusted, and they are being turned in for not paying us, because that is theft, that is illegal. I am willing to sign whatever documents neccesary when it comes down to it, if i don't get paid eventually. I was already personally very bad off, and i have this bitter realization that after the damage of this pandemic takes it's toll, I'm gonna have to struggle hard. I am not even mad at this point in a personal way. I just think companies need to know you don't fucking treat people this way. That the principle of the matter is that we are not just cogs for businesses to step on. We need to make the wealthy, even the vaguely wealthy people know that they need to appreciate fully those who work for them and under them, and when something bad happens, and they better intend on taking care of those people, or whatever their business model is is going to fail. It goes without saying that this pandemic has exposed a lot of what was already there. I think some people are naive enough to believe this corruption or this problem was unexpected. Lawmakers, and people who are privileged should have worked to make sure that hospitals had enough for the worst case scenario, and that there needs to be a safety net for people. None of these issues are new. I mean, it's not, at all. This is the rich doing the same old shit they have always done, and i imagine, trying so hard not to be pessimistic, but imagining just the same that this is only going to get worse. There are so many homeless drug addicted and mentally ill people in Portland already it's crazy. There was already rent that was impossible for full time employees to pay. It's funny because all these 'luxury suites' are being built throughout town in Portland, and i wonder now who they think is going to move in. Most of them were empty anyway. It's a mystery to me, because in a way it is classic gentrification the way they tore down old buildings and built these giant fancy expensive apartment buildings everywhere, but kind of weird because they were mostly empty. I mean, how could that have been worth it to investors or business owners?

I guess there is a lot I don't know about the stockmarket, banks, finance, housing and such, but it stands to reason that if you spend hundreds of millions to build something and nobody can afford to live there or pay your inflated rent, why are you bothering? I was told that a lot of these places were because of the Portland's population grew so much and these buildings were just now being built from people who had hoped to ride the 'rich Californian movers' era. The rent has just become kind of unmanageable. It's normal to live in a house with four or five people, all working full time just to maintain a single bedroom in a house of half-strangers. Meanwhile, studios that don't even come with a separate bedroom are nearly 2000 dollars, and things that should be there to help the homeless like tiny houses are marketed to rich minimalists who are so bored and guilt ridden by their own privilege they have to pretend to be quaint little peasants in order to feel unique in their own position, that they literally make it expensive to live in something not unlike a camper. But Portland is now just kind of at a steady growth. They came to late, and now with what's happened, what comes next.

Anyway, i am not leaving this city. I hated Idaho. It was a sad place for me, and i see a lot of beauty in Portland. I feel like i have a personal relationship with a good portion of the city. I tried to walk ten miles a day the first year i lived here. I lost a lot of weight here, fell in love here, I had a lot of meaningful experiences, met new people, gained new perspective. I've been afraid for my life here, drank more here, lost and found myself i mean, it's been an adventure in and of itself that becomes clearer to me now the more i have been here. I really do love Portland. It's sad but a lot of places i really loved and appreciated here in Portland won't be here anymore when this is over. A lot of small businesses i really appreciated. The kind of stuff that makes Portland really interesting, or reaching for something new. I hope that culture will crop up again, but we shall see.

I have a dry cough, and i wonder if i am catching Covid 19. My throat tingles a little, and I've already had two fever/colds in the last month, so something tells me this is it. Like a pregnant woman waiting to give birth or something. I am self quarantining. I'm a little nervous because a friend of a friend has a cousin in the FBI who has heard word from his superiors that they are considering the possibility of a full on quarantine, closing even the grocery stores. I didn't want to give in to early hysteria, like the toilet paper thing baffled me. I remember people getting really scared about Pigflu and Birdflu in the past years, but it didn't seem to really spread too far, though i did catch the Pigflu. My foodstamps refill on the 7th, so i hope if this does happen, they don't close by then. I just need to get in and get some bare essentials, because it now is looking like it might be smart to stock up now.

It's funny too, because i am not a homebody. I naturally am inclined to be depressed if i stay in one place too long. I have a somewhat mild case of ADHD, and i love to move, and i enjoy working. If i won the lottery, i'd still work in some fashion for 20 hours a week because i realize i don't feel satisfied living for myself. I like having a civilian duty, even if it's just cleaning off tables. I like feeling useful and connected to people. But i have a leg injury that's not going to heal on it's own, so walking has hurt me for the last eight months, and now this, and i have a health condition that makes it pretty easy for me to gain weight. So i am trapped in the house, snacking and trying to find things that make me laugh or inspire me. I did get inspired to start making paper mache masks. I think i can make the most of my quarantine time. I just hope they don't close the grocery stores before i get my money.

I am worried about both my parents. I have a lot of family, so it's not that unlikely i could lose someone to this virus. I am not concerned with myself that much. I could die, but the chances are relatively low. I am reading a lot of informed reddit posts, about the aftermath of this whole thing, and i'm a little bit nervous.

#text

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lovely-menza · 4 years ago

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You installed spotify just for that?? #truelove #commitment dsjahdsjakh btw what did he say in that story? and what is tererè? Some kind of juice? is it really that nasty? lol

I haven't opened up my spotify in AGES and usually I'd just take my brother's phone, but it was like 4am when I got to know it was there and... the desperation u.u

He + the other three talk about some s&m 2 little experiences (and for some reason James has like 4 stories doing his manspreading idk how to feel anymore) and the best part I think is that Lars literally had 30 seconds to tell something and he just tells everything in such a HURRY snapping his fingers every time (poor baby he needed the 4 stories)

OKAY SOME REGIONAL THINGY HERE since I'm from Argentina. Mate is an infusion drink of yerba mate (like some herbs i guess) + hot water, you either drink it bitter or sweet (you probably saw James or Kirk drinking from a weird cup with a metallic straw in the studio so yeah they're drinking mate mostly because of Fran <3)

AND then you have the Paraguayan/Mesopotamian region version which is the same thing (Tereré is in Guaraní aka a tribe from that region but more from Paraguay, random fact: it's common in Paraguay to speak in guaraní and spanish as well) But instead of hot water they drink it with juice, and it's like the cool alternative for when it's summer but since it's very a regional thing I'm not used to drink that kind, and actually pretty much despise it lol you can drink mate in any season too.

Sooo for some reason there's this Californian company that makes this drink literally called Yerba Mate, and for what I've seen they sell cans & bottles + when I searched up that bottle says tereré in the bottom and my heart went eugh </3 BUT I think they do Mate Cocido too (yerba mate but it's in a tea bag) so I guess they're not thaaat bad, they don't even sell it here so I can't tell if it tastes like it should.

Thanx for coming to my South America culture drinks class :-)

#not-a-human-perspective #why do i have to ramble that much? idk #i NEEDED to put the pic sorry #also thanks for asking!! it was fun lol #asks

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dyscrasia-eucrasia · 5 years ago

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Part 14

Demie fidgeted nervously as he listened to the dial tone on the other end of the line. For once in the past few weeks, he wasn't calling Angel. Which made his anxiety feel even weirder - Angel should've been the one he should be worried about talking to, since he was an outsider. If Demie was making the wrong choice in trusting him, the results could be disastrous.

So why did he feel totally comfortable talking to Angel, but not to his own brother?

"Hello?" Marius said when he picked up the phone. Demie's heart rate spiked. Marius used to be the one thing that kept him calm, but since he'd moved to California, he mostly just gave Demie more anxiety. Sometimes it was because he didn't have anyone around to calm him down, other times it was because he was worried about how the human world was treating his brother.

"Hey bro," Demie replied. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

He secretly hoped he was, so that he could get out of the phone call quicker. Even though he was the one who'd initiated it.

"Nah. I did a recording sesh in the morning, that seems to be the best time to do 'em. All the actual stars are too lazy to get out of bed before like 1am, so I get the studio all morning long. They better watch their asses, 'cause I'm comin' for 'em."

A year and a half in California had changed Marius, as far as Demie could tell. It was mostly in the voice. He said things that he never used to say, in a way he never would've said them. It was oddly painful. Like every time they talked, the brother Demie had known was being replaced piecemeal with some Californian superstar. Even his rural West Virginian accent had pretty much faded away.

"Cool," Demie said. He wasn't sure what else to say. He could picture Mar in a real recording studio, and he had to admit it suited his brother. Meanwhile, he and Elaine still recorded in a shed that was sound-proofed with old egg cartons. He felt inadequate, but at the same time like that was all he deserved.

"So what's up, little man?" Mar asked. "You haven't called in a while."

"Yeah I have, I called back in…" How long ago had he called? "I called during Lupercalia."

"Yeah bro, that was in February."

"So?"

"It's almost June."

"...Oh. Sorry, I've… I've had stuff going on."

"Really." Marius sounded a touch incredulous. Demie didn't blame him - he'd never had anything going on. Marius was the one with the big plans, Elaine was the one with the job, and Demie… he knew that they still saw him as the baby of their weird little family. A 25 year old baby that towered over both of them, but still a baby that didn't have any responsibilities and who needed to be taken care of and protected from the outside world.

Not like he was bitter, or anything. He appreciated that they looked out for him, and he'd be the first to admit that his anxiety did make it hard to fully care for himself. But was it really so hard to believe that he did stuff without either of them present?

"Yeah, uh… I've been talking to people."

"What, like our cousins? Or the maenads?"

"No, with, like… a normal human."

"Hmm."

"Are you going to yell at me like Elaine did and tell me I'm being stupid for talking to him?"

"Oh, it's a 'him', huh?" Marius asked. His tone was a lot lighter than Elaine's, and Demie was grateful. He didn't think he could withstand being yelled at again. "How'd you meet him?"

"Elaine and I did this show in Charleston, and he just started talking to me after the show. And, like… he didn't seem like the kinda guy who'd listen to our music, but he's really into the band. And we talk on the phone a lot, and it's just… nice."

"Okay…" Marius said, in a tone that implied he knew there was more to the story.

"And, like… I think I actually made a friend, and I wanna like… do shit that friends do. Like have some beers or go out shooting or whatever. In person."

"Does he know you're a satyr?"

"Not yet, but like… he's a gay guy, they have to be in the closet, right? I don't think he'd blow our cover."

"Hm. He's gay, huh?"

Demie furrowed his brow. "Why are you and Elaine so surprised by that? I'm not a homophobe, I'm fine with gay people. Just as long as they don't try anything funny."

"No, that wasn't what I… nevermind."

"Are you going to tell me this is a bad idea?" Demie asked.

"Actually, no," Marius responded, barely taking time to think about it. "You need some friends. I was hoping that you'd come out to Cali with me and start having an actual social life, but that didn't happen. I've honestly been kind of worried about you, cooped up with just Elaine and the goats and the video store."

"I can't go to the video store anymore," Demie admitted, despondent. "There was this video…"

"I know. Elaine sent it to me. I tried to call you to talk about it, but every time I tried I got the busy signal. I guess that was you talking to your friend?"

"Oh, yeah. I remember hearing it do that a few times. I don't know how to put a call on hold and I figured if it was important, whoever was calling would call back."

"Well, I definitely tried to call back, guess I just got bad timing."

"Yeah, well… we're okay. I was the one who shot at them, I thought they were just drunk kids out trespassing."

"Probably a good thing you did," Marius said. "I subscribed to their channel just in case there were any more updates, but it looks like you really spooked them. They didn't go back to Billy Brook, just went on to some two-headed goat taxidermy in some other town."

"Good. Fuck those jackasses. Last thing we need is more cryptozoologists coming out here."

"I think you're safe for now," Marius said. "Those guys… they're a very specific breed of jackasses. There's tons of them here in L.A. They're not actually in it for the cryptids, they just want more views so they can make brand deals to sell amphetamines to tech bros."

"Whoa, really? They're selling meth out in L.A.? I thought they all did, like, weed and coke out there."

"Well, I mean, it's not actual meth, it's ADD meds and this stuff called 'nootropics'... but it's basically meth."

"What, have you tried it?"

"Kinda. My exec gave me Adderall when I was going through a writer's block. It felt pretty good, I got really focused, but the stuff I wrote was crap. That kinda drug high just doesn't hit the same as the Frenzy."

"Wow. Weird. Hey, speaking of the Frenzy, are you actually gonna show up to the Bacchanalia this year?"

"Hmm, that depends. The label's pushing for a tour this summer. I'll try, though. I really don't like missing it."

"You should be there. It's not as much fun being there on my own. Everyone was peer-pressuring me to be part of the orgy last year."

"You know you can just be part of the orgy, right? You're an adult, you can go have group sex."

"Yeah, but it's like… too many guys. It's too gay."

"Ah, yeah, that's right, you can't see another satyr's penis in the middle of an orgy. That would just be too gay."

"Exactly."

"Alright, well… good luck with your friend, okay? I'm glad you found someone to talk to, really."

"Thanks, bro."

"And don't wait three months to call me next time!"

"Yeah sure, whatever, Mom."

The two brothers laughed as they both disconnected the call.

#writing #writers on tumblr #original fiction #gay fiction #lgbt fiction #original characters #wright's writing #w:demie and angel

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violencebred · 5 years ago

Photo

TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR DEATH, MURDER AND VIOLENCE MENTIONS

❛ can you tell us when the curse first manifested ?❜

NIGHT ONE. ALBANY, NY. CA 24:15. NUMBER OF CASUALTIES: THREE.

like the lore on which children are weaned, ella would like to share an account coated with inveiglement. a tale about the heavens cracking open, unleashing a thunderstorm like no other. and then, she’d say, the sky wept. it rained for days and days; alleyways flooded, and the sky remained overcast, as if still scarred, a week after. if it were up to her to paint it, she’d embed it with a weight akin to that of prophets retelling a fraction of the book of revelations.

but in reality, the delivery of her curse was nowhere near as glamorous. like most cursed, a long-winded, ponderous contract was a luxury not offered to her. the dealing was quick, done with as quickly as one’s click of the fingers. an unprofaned existence quickly turned blighted.

it rained that night, though it was one of those unenergetic, wavering rains that do little besides ever so annoy the careless new yorker. had she made up her mind, begged to be granted some alternative penance and returned home an ashamed, failed runaway, she wouldn’t have noticed a difference.

she’d reached albany at 04:00. by 04:35, news12 had already broadcasted the gruesome note. a commercial-looking news anchor stood outside one of her family’s houses. the building in the chelsea neighborhood stood there, housing but darkness inside. the home always looked different at night, but now, with the lights all off causing the walls to look uncharacteristically dull, it was a sight sure to send shivers down her spine. the barricade tape made it worse.

much like the order of their births, bellissa was first, then carina, and then gian. bellisa had just been admitted to medical school. she remembered everyone’s names and birthdates. corny jokes with lame punchlines made her laugh the hardest. carina looked like her mother the most out of them. though she was too modest to admit it, she was a child prodigy. their aunts never missed a chance to say she had the ‘makings of greatness in her’. she crafted beautiful things, like paintings and musical compositions, to give to others as birthday presents. gian was always quiet, never really liking to be called the ‘baby’ of the family. everyone still dotted on him still. during spring, he’d fill the house with wildflowers collected from the backyard. ella refused to look at the coroner’s report, which was leaked and remained accessible for the more meddlesome media outlets to peruse. then any trace of it vanished overnight, likely a doing of her father’s hand. if she ever slept, she’d dream of the three of them, drifting toward a sea of darkness and numbness and nothing. it’s a more reassuring imagery than all the other scenarios, all the images of them shrieking and turning around in the ground.

❛ as far as our reports state, the effects are not restricted to blood relatives - can you confirm this ?❜

NIGHT TWO. BOSTON, MA. CA 23:02. NUMBER OF CASUALTIES: TWO.

ella remembers the first hostel the least. it’s always cold, despite how crowded it is, and lonely. she says a mere ten words throughout her first three months there. the couple in the mattress next to hers leaves one morning, and from sacramento comes another one.

is ella short for anything?

short for isabella.

sweet. i’m jill. this is red.

red? is that your real name?

it is now.

and so it is. they’re young californians who’d come to new york pursuing a more bohemian lifestyle than california had had to offer. they’d landed themselves at different temporary homes after getting evicted from their flat, and now they’re stuck in the big apple. they’re generous, welcoming her as if they were lifelong friends. they don’t ask about her family, and she’s thankful. they teach her how to tie-dye and cut her own hair, then they let out a collective laugh when the first cut ends up looking dreadful.

but the fourth month rolls around. one morning, she catches a glimpse of a familiar face in her periphery. a glance at the somber-looking suited man is enough to spark the familiarity. she feels a breath down her neck as she packs, writes a note addressed to jill and red promising to write and ending with an apology.

their demises don’t create large ripples, but are instead restricted only to their two obituaries at the back of a local newspaper. it’s not until afterward that their deaths come into view as parts of the larger puzzle.

NIGHT THREE. CONCORD, MA. CA 14:26. NUMBER OF CASUALTIES: ONE.

ella wasn’t expecting much when she knocked on a random door upon her arrival. she’d ditched all the cards and other means that could serve as trackers, but had now almost burned through the cash. concord was nice, and it felt like an escape from the bigger cities. it was quiet, though that wasn’t inherently good. a middle-aged woman answers the door, furrowing at ella like the strange visitor she is. as she rambles, beads of sweat scattered over her forehead and eyes aiming not to cry even a little bit, she feels like a horrible burden. she was always taught not to ask for favors she couldn’t repay, and yet there she stands.

but the woman nods, her laughter lines deepening as she steps aside to let the brunette in. as ella explains she will get herself a job at the local gas station and offers to carry out chores and other labor in exchange for a place to stay, the scent of cinnamon floods the new england home. there’s a perfect-looking pastry handed to her, then a handshake.

mrs. herrera reminds her of her mother. maybe the two would’ve been great friends. though ella can tell she feels as lonely as herself. still, she is kind - surprising, to say the least, in the face of such odd circumstances.

but her stay is short-lived, this time prompted by a quick phone call. it is not menacing, just straightforward and hurried. her father even chimes in from the back, though it’s one of his colleagues who directs the call for the most part. she pleads for them to stop, for them to leave her alone for good - the call ends the way they wanted it to. ‘we’ll send someone to get you in the morning’, and then it’s hung up.

the tears in her eyes prevent her from seeing the names written on the billboards through the window of the bus. the ghost of a motherly hug still lingers, the prospect of the quaint life that could’ve been hers loading every sob with bitterness.

when miranda herrera’s gruesome death is attributed to a manic episode caused by early onset dementia, things click right as they begin falling apart. the puzzling case of the two deceased hitchhikers seems to come up in connection to miranda’s case. a cover-up emerges, referencing the opioid crisis and the devastating effects it allegedly had on the three decedents.

but those who know which signs to look out for know better. the cases are deliberately closed and left to gather dust, a bypass of the law enforcement’s own confusion and inability to close them with a coherent narrative. though rumors filter and spread, the eerie details of the couple and the woman who figuratively tore themselves apart earning them the same character as campfire stories. rarely are they told as cautionary tales, and even more rare is it for the consistent red thread binding them and the three previous fatalities together.

❛ do you have any way of knowing when the accidents are going to happen ?❜

NIGHT ONE AT THE DATABASE. LOCATION UNKNOWN. TIME UNKNOWN. NUMBER OF CASUALTIES: ZERO.

is that what they’re calling them - accidents? she lets out a dry laugh. the way her head shakes in response is as insolent as she’ll allow herself to be. there’s still a nagging voice in her ear telling her not to dare misbehave or else… but she is angry, or so she thinks as her temples throb. she feels heavy with the weight of so much pointless, unnecessary death. at night, the dead come to her in her dreams. they open their mouth to say something, but all that comes out are blood curdling screams. it’s then that she’ll wake up, her own throat hoarse and thus disclosing that it’d been her own screams that had seeped into her subconscious.

she finally blurts out the answer they want. no, i don’t.

❛ did you ever try reconnecting with people you’ve previously met, maybe thinking that it’d- ?❜

ella doesn’t care for the rest of the question. she never had the chance. it all happened overnight, mere hours after she’d departed from a place and headed to another. gods have little use for indecisiveness, for vacillating. the most time she’d get was one night, but none of the people whom she’d left behind had not made it for that long.

NIGHT TEN AT THE DATABASE. NO CHANGE.

she thinks about it for a while, namely when the silence in her room becomes too overwhelming. while there are others around her being probed and observed, those assigned to her case might have little use for tests. it doesn’t grant her any peace of mind, but it provides the foundations of an answer nonetheless.

there is a nightmare that comes back to haunt her along with the old ones. it’s cold, and the air smells of gunpowder and chemicals. she hasn’t been in this place in an eternity, though not by choice. charred and destroyed into smithereens, she knows this place to be the ghost of the database. in the dream, she looks for a familiar face - someone like thad, or january. but then her heart will turn heavy and full of grief, and in this same dream she will know they are gone, extinguished by her own selfish hand.

when she wakes up, the bright white lights threaten to burn her retina. the lack of answers and repetitive outline of the place do everything but lift her spirits. but despite all of this, there is some assurance in the decision she has made.

even if it demanded for the database walls to be tore down over her, ella’s curse would end in this place. if her own curse couldn’t be removed, then she’d stay there, watching all the others be pardoned and rid of their curses even if her own weathered her down to the bone. she’d wave thirteen goodbyes and force herself to nurture some sense of peace and belonging here, making the database grounds her home to ensure she wouldn’t have to go anywhere else ever again. she’d turn herself into the one left behind this time around, even if she died the desolate and miserable way the gods intended her to.

she would like to tell this epiphany the same way people speak of the works of prophets. she hadn’t been born the kind of person people wrote stories about, so if she had the chance to, ella would like to at least go out with a final good one. but just as with the beginning, the end was not deserving of any sugar-coating, of any misleading descriptions. it was straightforward and simple, as if intending to make up for the painstaking and sufferable net she had woven. no skies cracking open, no long-winded lore. just an end.

#( this makes no sense !!#sorry it's a mess & i'm delirious )#cursetask001

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slothgiirl · 5 years ago

Text

forever isn’t for everyone part 10

We all head straight to the hotel, just in time for the first interviews of the day; throwing Jamie and Miles to the wolves. It's a nice place, that we won't enjoy. Having lost a day means that after using the hotel for interviews, we'll have to run to the venue. Only Lucy and the two band members get off at the hotel.

The rest of us, unlucky as we are, have to get and attempt a soundcheck down half our crew. It's hell.

Made worse at the thought of Alex holed up in the tour bus as we rush around. Unbothered by work as he's just Miles' plus one. Having stayed up all night with Miles, playing guitar and making my head want to explode as I'd laid in my bunk, thinking about how deft his hands on the strings were. Working myself up and worst of all-- missing him.

Lucy had been right. I text her as much only to hear a snort above me. Unhelpful in everything except gossip.

By the time Miles and Jamie get back, having been grilled to hell and back, Jamie looking like the worlds most uncomfortable toddler who's cheeks have been pinch way too many times by strangers, most of the set up has been done. The California sun beating down on us as we enjoy munching on the food set up for us.

It's one of those days when I could care less if it's any good. That fucking hungry.

Miles keeps glancing down at his phone, a bundle of nervous energy instead of the usual chaotic energy. He reminded me so of the boys in school who would talk back to the teacher and cause riots of laughter among students. He gets up, grabbing another beer and pacing around the room before collapsing into a chair once more.

It's making me nervous.

"You alright Miles," I venture, when he sits down by me, frowning down at his phone.

"Yeah. Yeah," he says dismissively, not bothering to look up from his phone. "Just peachy doll."

I roll my eyes, but persevere. Part of my job is too make sure the talent's holding up. And we might not be friends outside of work, but you can't live on the road for weeks with people and just not care about them. "You're calling me doll. Now I'm really worried."

He laughs humorlessly. "It's all right Ellie. Really."

"Is it Alex?"

Miles' eyes pierce my gaze, the goblin child mirth absent in lieu of surprise. "No. No. sort of." He glances down at the ground, at the carpet the color of cat vomit, whose original color had been lost to time. "He's just got a bit of a headache. That's all."

"Right," I reply, unconvinced by his slippery gaze and the airy tone.

" 'm sorry about whatever happened between you two," he utters bluntly. "Say the word and I'll send him away.”

"You don't really mean that," I note, fiddling with my thumbs, unable to hold his gaze now as color rises to my cheeks, "or else you'd have offered at the start of the tour. Not two weeks before it ends in south america."

"Technically," Miles counters, pointing his finger right at me, "its just a break before the festivals. I can make do with out 'im."

"I highly doubt that," I remark. Everything's in order in the venue. I'll give myself this one night to skip the concert. While people watching could be fun, and there was nothing like the energy of a live band filling the venue with hundreds of screaming fans, I was a bit over it tonight. Having spent the majority of yesterday in the same confined area with Alex, and being careful not to make it too obvious I was avoiding him, had drained me.

I walk out the door and into the warm summer night. It was a nice change from Utah. The city bathed in lights as the sun set. Just like that an entire summer gone by. Tomorrow was a second show. Then Pomona. Then San Diego Soon we'd be in South America and then onto Europe. Miles had been wrong, there was only a week before Europe.

I let out a breathe as I wish for the first time in my life for a cigarette. All this traveling with a rock band and I'd finally picked up some bad habits. I walk down sunset strip and right into a liquor, wishing I had thought to nick some of the cigarette boxes that filled an entire bowl backstage. Thank god for riders. And next year I'd be doing it all over again with another band. The thought filled me with dread. I'd gotten used to Nick and Jamie. To Ben and Miles who often ended up ontop of tables dancing and dunk and pulling Alex up along with him.

As soon as I take a drag, I can feel the knot inside my chest begin to ease up. More and more neon signs light up. It's not Vegas, with its kitchy over the top theatrics, but Los Angeles feels like every noir detective movie I'd seen. It's so much like the grimy and cheesy eighties action movies set in these very streets. If not for the actual stale smell of actual garbage. The cars honking every five seconds.

Streets clogged like heart arteries with cars.

I slip into the first bar I find that's playing loud music. The strokes. God, how I used to dance around my room to their music at one in the mornings instead of finishing my assignments.

"What can I get for you," the bartender, young, maybe only a year older than me, asks in her vocal fry Californian way.

"rum and coke," I reply.

"I love your accent," she replies, already pouring out the cheap rum and coke. I set down a ten-er and find a seat in a small alcove, the crushed velvet seat smelling thickly of cheap beer and cigarette smoke. I slump in my seat and watch people come in and out.

At least I'd seen the TLC Chinese theater on the way in. Even got a picture that wasn't completely blurry at a red light. Months into the tour and my will to go sight see was dead. My feet would not, refused to even think, of walking another two miles down to the famous street.

I was almost for sure spending my week off curled up in my bed watching random reality tv shows.

After my rum and coke I grab a cranberry vodka, feeling like a teenager who'd taken a juice box to school.

The door opens and a familiar face walks in, already chatting up a girl. It's Alex, with the sort of charisma that takes weeks of hacking at his reserved nature to get through. The girl, a acid blonde, is eating it up, giggling against his shoulder as they order drinks.

It's heartbreak all over again.

Instead of doing the rational thing, and leaving before I cry in a random bar, I sit there and watch. Watch as he wraps his arm around her, curling his fingers around her waist. She leans into him, laughing loudly like all these Americans do. Stumbling a little as they take a table by the entrance. Alex smiles evenly, even as she wipes tears of laughter from her eyes.

Shouldn't he be at the concert with his bezzie mate?

I swallow back bitterness. It's been three months. Plenty of time to have gotten over him if I hadn't been on the road with him for all of that time. That was all. As soon as this tour was over I'd never have to see his face again.

Even if I wanted to.

Even if my heart still fluttered when he smiled softly, eyes sparkling with delight as he got absorbed in the conversation. In Miles and even Matt to some extent. He was charming despite his distant nature. The very picture of having your head in the clouds. The dreaminess only made him that much more appealing. I down the rest of my drink, feeling my throat burn, before resolving to leave. This was a sign I should go to the Chinese theater. Get a photo of me among the walk of fame. Why torture myself about Alex?

He'd been an ass. I had to remind myself of that night, of the week leading up to it when he wouldn't even give me an explanation for why meeting up for breakfast was too much for him.

When I look up, they're gone.

I sigh in relief.

The night in LA is less black, then a midnight blue. The light pollution illuminating even the grimiest corner. I start to walk in the direction of the crowd. Even at eight, the street was as busy as ever. Like New York, like London, this culture capital never slept. It eased any reservations I had about wondering alone at night in a foreign city.

I'd just get a taxi back to the venue.

I'm almost down to the light when two figures catch my attention out of the corner of my eye. Down a badly lit alley. There's a homeless woman sleeping at the entrance.

I stop and stare.

Alex's auburn hair obscuring his features, but I'd know him anywhere. Know the curve of his spine, the way he carried himself, curled in on himself in a way that could only be described as dainty. His lips against the blonde's neck. It's salt in the wound that's been reopened. fuck. I should've stayed behind in Utah.

I'm about to turn tail and run when my eyes focus on the blonde. Her arms held still by Alex's hands. Back against the wall. It's a red flag ringing in the back of my mind. The flag that my mothers had impressed into my little prepubescent mind, both of them telling me what to do if I ever felt uncomfortable with a man. Both of them biting their nails with each word.

I stride forward without another thought. Jaw clenching shut.

It doesn't take long to reach them. But my shoe makes an awful crunching sound as I step on a discarded crisps bag.

Alerting Alex.

Words well up in my mouth. Stop. What the fuck are you doing. Alex. But they all die on my lips as Alex looks up, his eyes meeting mine. Instead of the caramel color I'm used to, so bloody fond of. . .his eyes like a pair of rubies met mine. A look of utter devastation crosses his fine features. "I can explain," he utters in a rush, lips stained carmine with blood.

My brain short circuits. Not wanting to make the connection. Not wanting to hear it. I wish I'd stayed. I don't want to know. I don't. Fuck. Jesus fucking christ.

My mouth can't form words. Can only look from Alex to the hands, still clasped tightly around the blonde. Her smile dazed as she sways, all her weight on him. Alex lets her go.

She sways like the branches of a willow tree in the wind, almost falling over before the jolt of the fall kicks her back into consciousness. Her eyes widen as she looks at both of us for a tense second. Her mouth widens comically into an O before she screams.

Alex moves, surging forward and pressing his hand to her mouth, silencing her scream before it can make its way out of the alley and into the trafficked street. He gazes deeply into her frightened eyes. "Forget this night. You had a drink with a stranger and then went home. Now go on. Run back home and sleep the night away." He wipes the last hint of blood from her neck before he lets her go.

Her gaze slacks as he speaks, until the fear retreats. And just like that, like malleable clay, she walks out of the alley, and off into the night. I watch her disappear around the corner. Still shocked silent.

"El," Alex whispers sadly, much too close for comfort. Having crossed the distance between us while I was distracted. A mistake on my part. A primal terror surging through my mind, telling me to run. To get as far from Alex as possible. "Why'd you have to see?"

His eyes still unnaturally red.

I shake my head slightly. Aware of his hand reaching for my cheek, frozen in the air, as if held back by some invisible force. "No." I shake my head much more firmly. I don't. I don't want to make the connection consciously that the back of my mind already has. That my mind is insisting of as everything off about him falls into place.

Alex closes his eyes, taking a step back. "I can let you forget this all if that's what you wish." When he opens his eyes once more, they're back to his normal color. It eases a lump in my throat I hadn't realized had built up.

This. . .this Alex I might be able to deal with. So much more familiar. If not for the blood on those lips I had spent so many nights kissing.

I rup my temples. "No. No. What the actual fuck."

"El."

"Stay the bloody hell away from me Alex!"

"El please," he pleads, arms held up in a calming motion as though I'm freaking out over nothing. Like he's not a v. . .no. I refuse to go there despite the evidence. "Let's go somewhere to talk."

"I'm not going anywhere alone with you," I spit, stepping back. Wanting to put more distance between us. Had he done that to me? How would I ever even know?

"Of course not," Alex replies, voice wavering, choked full of emotion as he continues, "somewhere crowded-,"

"So you can brainwash me!"

Hurt flashes across his eyes, "I would never hurt you," Alex insists.

"You already did." I state. Because it had been three months. And Alex, my first serious adult relationship had just-I was left heartbroken.

He closes his eyes once more sighing. I could run right now. But something more complex than simple fear roots me to this spot in the alley. Alex rubs the bridge of his nose before trying once more.

"El," he sighs with centuries of built up melancholia, "please just listen to me and then you can decide whatever you wish. I'll never bother you again. But El-," his voice breaks. "El I can't refuse for this to be my last memory of you."

My heart flutters, still longing for him even now. Even with the blood drying on his lips. And I can't help but say, "okay."

#Alex Turner #alex turner fanfic #alex turner imagine #alex turner x reader #forever isn't for everyone

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