#finished packed and went to bed with his eyes shut real tight. willing himself not to shed any tears

[fizzytoo]

the convenience of exam week gave him the excuse to avoid johnny. now that it's adrien's last night before graduation, he can't avoid him anymore.

adrien: i think we should put an end to whatever… this is

johnny: seriously, adrien?? you’re doing this over text? can’t we just meet up and talk?

adrien: i know you’re not interested in me the same way i am with you, and i’ve made up my mind not to waste anymore time on this. i’m leaving for sulani soon, anyway. let’s just end this now.

[yamithediaperdork]

Cry baby and Pee pants, part 1 (Digimon)

Matt cussed loud and long as he searched though his locker and the dressing room for the 5th time. The young blond had been trying out for a band, hoping to launch his music carer after more or less calling it quits as a digi destined, after barely keeping Tokyo from being blown up by a rouge digimon. This was actually his 6th audition, his young age and well, not exactly stellar skills on the guitar meant that he was told thanks for trying out, but he wasn't right for any of the bands till now. The leaping lizards had gushed over the raw talent being there, and had welcomed him on board, even pouring him a couple drinks of sake despite him being underage to celebrate. The last thing Matt recalled before waking up five hours later was them laughing at how stupid he was and.. Giving up the search, he had to finally admit the truth. they hadn't ever been serious about their offer to join the band and had just wanted to steal his guitar, a newer model and worth at least 300 bucks even being pawned. 'I suppose I should feel lucky I woke up with both kidneys.' Matt thought to himself. 'But how the fuck am I suppose to try out for the lone wolfs in two days with no instrument?' There was NO way he'd be able to get his parents to get him anther guitar, he'd had to basically break out the water works and plead on his knees for a month to get the last one. His antics had earned him the nick name of cry baby around both his dad's house and his mom's, and TK still wasn't letting it go and would ask if baby wanted his ba-ba. That left asking the others for a few loans, and most of them weren't too pleased he'd given up the hero game for fortune. Joe was blowing all his money on his studies anyways, Izzy on computer junk.. Sora and Mimi had been giving him the cold shoulder and he knew neither Kari nor TK would have the cash. '...I wonder if Tai's still hella gay?' Matt though, a Cheshire grin coming across his face. the always needy boy kisser had been good for getting a few video games before and junk, it was like 20 minutes of gay stuff like smooching and cuddling and then a little shopping spree AND Tai had just come into a fat wad of cash after a uncle that adored him had left him a big hefty inheritance. 'I can gay out for like, a hour for this.' Matt thought and getting his bag (and of course finding his wallet dry) he headed towards home, thinking about getting a even better guitar then before.

Tai was shocked when Matt called him the next morning, asking if he could meet up. After Matt had ditched the team only Tai and TK made any real efforts to hang with him, and TK only because they were brothers. In truth Izzy was giving Tai a hard time about it, but since Izzy was being a little bitch about a lot of things lately Tai just ignored his on and off again boyfriend. 'I mean, I was willing to get him that new computer he wanted and he couldn't rock a pamper butt for me? RUDE!' Tai thought and huffed. It was Tai's new fetish, and one he'd discovered by mistake when googling more on that Willis kid and finding out the little cutie had a website set up to show him modeling in diapers. Naturally seeing that Tai had begged and pleaded with Izzy to try out diapers but apparently Izzy had been a late bloomer and had only recently gotten out of daytime diapers before their whole adventure started. Naturally this had only made Tai wanna diaper him more, but again, Izzy was being a little pecker head about it. (at least from Tai's point of view.) 'heh. if Matt is expecting a little shopping spree today..he's in for a surprise. the boy is gonna earn it.' Tai thought, and went and checked on the supplies he kept under his bed on the off chance he lucked into a diaper boy. there they were, 2 packs of the diaper brand Willis recommended on his site, nice and thick, and a few onesies along with a changing pad and pacifiers and a baby bottle. 'Oh yeah..come onnn Matt..be desperate for money~'

Matt made sure to wear a nice tight sleeveless top and a pair of tight jeans (So tight he'd needed TK's help getting into them.) and made sure to spike his hair just the way that Tai liked it. TK wasn't dumb though, and knew what Matt was doing. "Looking good for your sugar daddy Cry baby." He teased and winked. "Your lucky Tai's expecting me, or I'd give you the noogie to end all noogies." Matt said, raising a eyebrow. it was just the two of them at their mothers apartment at the moment and TK used to know better then to push his luck when it was just them. "Mmhhhhmm.. your dadddy calls and cry baby Matt comes running. maybe HE'S gonna give ya yer ba-ba~" TK giggled. the giggles died off as TK saw the look on Matt's face, and when their mom would get back she'd find TK hanging by his undies from a nail on the wall. "...pushed cry baby too far again huh?" she asked, smirking and taking off her jacket. "Y-Yeah..uh..a little help?"TK squeaked. "Righttt after I put the groceries away.. think of this as time to reflect on watching your mouth." mom said and walked away. "B-But my undies are so far up my crack i can taste themmm!" TK whined. "then I don't need to worry about lunch." came the reply. "...Funny fucker aren't you." TK huffed under his breath, crossing his arms. "I hear that!"

Making his way to Tai's Matt got more then a few looks from both guys and girls, and likewise, a few wolf whistles. He ignored them for the most part, but had a smirk on his face knowing just how sexy he looked and soon was knocking on Tai's door. Tai gave him a once over as he opened the door and Matt smirked, he was almost drooling. "So, Like what you see?" Matt asked, and flexed a arm. "heh, Oh yeah. so gonna stand out there and look hot, or come inside and tell me what you want?" Tai asked, standing aside and gesturing into the apartment. "Don' worry, Kari had a school thing out of town and mom and dad are with her.I have you allll to myself." Tai added, slapping Matt's ass as he walked past, making Matt yelp and blush. Still, Matt knew what was expected of him for the most part and just flashed Tai a grin and blew a kiss. 'fucking bastard! he knows i hate spanking stuff!' Matt fumed. Matt went to sit down on the couch by Tai had closed the door and taken a seat in a arm chair, then patted his lap. '..He's totally getting me the latest guitar if he keeps this shit up.' Matt fumed, but walked over and sat on Tai's lap,putting his arms around the bigger boy. Matt might of been taller, but with all the sports that Tai played he had a bulked up look and was pound for pound much stronger. "So, You normally only get THIS dressed up if you want something, so what's my little Mattie need?" Tai asked, cradling Matt in a way that Matt recognized as using back when TK was toddler. "I..I uh..I have a band audition coming up..but some jerk's stole my guitar..and um.." Matt swallowed and then batted his eyes at Tai. "I was wondering, hoping if maybe you'd get me a new one.I've been practicing my kissing and we can cuddle and stuff for like, 2 hours even!" "heh. Well that IS a tempting offer. doubly so when your cute ass is in my lap. but I have a boyfriend if I just wanted to make out with a cutie. and Izzy is willing to go all the way." Tai chuckled. "O-Oh..but..I uh..I'm not..you...know..I'm.." Matt stammered. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna make you suck dick or take it up the poop chute. and I WILL get you whatever kinda guitar you want for your silly little audition which by the way is when?" Tai asked, kissing Matt's forehead and making alarm bells go off in the blond mind. "I-It's tomorrow at 3 pm sharp. And..what do you want then?" Matt asked, a nervous twitch to his voice. "Oh nothing too much. something really easy actually." Tai said and smiled. 'Bullshit' Matt thought but kept the smile on his face. "and that is?..." "For every say.. 20 dollars I spend on your little guitar I get one hour with you being my darling little diaper boy." "..What?!"

Tai smirked as he got ready to put Matt back into padding. the blond was looking huffy as fuck, but was keeping his mouth shut all the same, likely trying not to blow his semi good deal. Tai of course fully understood WHY Matt wouldn't be happy with the deal, but couldn't help but tease the impending little uy a little bit. "Awww come on widdle Mattie, can't you give daddy a smile? Your making daddy think you don't wanna do our widdle deal." He he teased, reaching over and tickling mat''s chin while the blond sat cross legged next to him. "...Your a sick man, you know that?" Matt asked, but he was grinning all the same, though whether it was from the chin tickles or humoring him Tai couldn't be sure. "Flattery will get you everywhere." Tai said with a wink, and as he finished getting the changing pad (with a adorable teddy bear print) set up and the changing supplies ready, he looked over Matt's jeans as he tugged out 3 of the thick puffy diapers. "So, are gonna be able to get out of those by yourself? they almost look spray painted on." Tai asked. "I can totally undress myself!" Matt huffed and stood up, unbuttoning the jeans and sliding his thumbs into the belt loops and tugging. And tugging some more. and then more tugging as they didn't budge. "You were saying?" Tai asked, in a clearly delighted tone. "..Shut up and help me get these things off." Matt huffed.

Matt was crimson after they FINALLY got his jeans off, partly due to the fact it had taken 10 minutes of effort, and well, needing Tai's help to undress. Not helping matters was the fact that Matt had chosen to go commando and well, liked to keep it shaved down there. "Awww somebody was a good boy and knew what was coming and saved daddy some time!" Tai teased. 'oh shut the fuck up!' Matt thought. "Yeah, let's go with that." was his sulky reply. Tai had oddly grabbed a razor blade all the same and cut silts in the back and front of two of the three massive diapers he was planing on putting on Matt, making the blond give his impending 'daddy' a weird look. "It's so when you go tinkle, the wetness is shared and you can go longer in your diapies. Same for when you go boom boom." Tai said cheerfully. THAT had caused the blush to leave Matt's face, at least for a little bit as he paled. "W-Wait.. you mean..you want me to.. uh.. go.." Matt stammered, and the blush returned as he struggled to say the words, then hissed and blew a raspberry. "in my diapers!?!" "..Ok that was hella cute. and Yup, I'm even gonna be nice and let you use them all on your own for today, though if I don't like the results I'm seeing I'll be sure to get you some potty med's to help." Tai said and winked, then patting the changing mat. "come on Little guy, let's get your diapies on and then you can sit in daddies lap while we order you a guitar so you can make music for daddy." "But..I thought we were going and getting one today!" Matt whined. "Oh, does somebody wanna go out shopping in his diapers? So bold!" Tai teased. "NO! I just..uh.." mental images of Matt waddling around in the big bulky diapers, holding Tai's hand and sucking his thumb flooded his mind and he started to squirm lots even as he laid down on the changing pad. "Don't worry. I'll pay for rush delivery. if we get it in town it'll be here by this afternoon. Maybe I'll let my little exhibitionist answer the door." Tai teased, and grabbed the first diaper. '...I could really go for anther glass of sake right now.' Matt thought and lifted up his butt like a good boy.

Back at the apartment TK was having pain fueled day dreams of all the times his undies hadn't of been lodged up his crack and wished his mom would hurry up and come and get him down. Not helping the whole situation was the fact that he had a growing bladder issue and any attempt's to shift around and relive the pressure there only made the undies ride up more. His mom had gone from putting things away to excuse herself to the bathroom, an like she was the worlds greatest comedian she'd told him not to move, and to hang in there. TK had wisely kept his opinions of her humor to himself as he had a sneaking suspicion that his earlier comments had helped extend his wedgie time. Still as the need to tinkle grew more and more TK couldn't keep quiet. "MOMMY! I hafa go pee! if you don't wanna clean up a puddle you needa get me down NOW!" He called. the bathroom door opened and Nancy walked out, smirking. "Why didn't you say something sooner wedgie boy?" she asked, taping a finger on his nose. "...You were just waiting in there!?!" TK shouted and huffed, crossing his arms and glaring. Sadly as his attention was focused on his mom and being mad at her, it was diverted from where it needed to be. "Well you were being a little brat an-" She started, then looked down as a hissing noise was heard and looked at the growing wet patch on the front of TK's undies, and the puddle that was starting to form on the floor. "Really?" "T-This is your fault!" TK huffed even as she grabbed him under the arms and lifted him down, though holding him away from her so she didn't get any pee on her. The flow was weakling and stopping as she got him on his feet, turning him so he could add to the puddle while not standing in it since he was in socks. (not that they weren't already wet) "Mhmm.. Well go and finish in the bathroom and clean up." She said, rolling her eyes then noticed a super guilty look on TK's face. "The..flow DID stop because you got it under control right?" She asked, a smirk tugging on her face. "Er..well..see.." TK said, rubbing the back of his head and chuckling nervously. "Go grab a shower pee pants, and meet mommy in your room. you know the rule for pant's wetters in this house." She said and turned away to go and get the mop and bucket as TK whined. "MOOOM! NOT THE PULL UPS!"

Back at Tai's and Matt was powdered and tapped in his triple thick white diapers, and squirming like crazy as he looked at himself in the mirror. Tai had tugged off his shirt so at the moment Matt was JUST in his white socks and white diapers, and he couldn't even close his legs! and as bad as it looked from the front, once he turned around and looked over his shoulder it was WAY worse in the back! He hadn't of even been able to get to his feet without Tai's help (well, he was gonna use Tai's bed to pull himself up but Tai had insisted daddy was here to help) and to say he was waddling was a massive understatement. "So what do you think little guy?" Tai asked, coming up behind him and making Matt look front ward in the mirror again, kissing Matt's cheek as he patted Matt's fat diapered bottom. "...I feel like I'm gonna knock lamps off of end tables, and there should be a beeping noise when i back up!" Matt whined. "heh, cute idea. I'll see what i can rig up for your next diaper day with daddy." Tai chuckled and kissed Matt's cheek. 'I need to stop giving him ideas.' Matt mentally groaned. "Can I at least put my shirt back on or something? or you have some shorts I can put over these? I wanna try and cover the diapers up!" Matt whined. "oh, You're just in luck little guy! Daddy DOES have something to go over your adorable huggies." Tai said. The old familiar warning bells were going off in Matt's head as Tai went and reached under the bed, and pulled out two onesie's, or as Matt called them, diaper shirts. One was light blue with a yellow trim on the sleeves, neck and leg hole, and had a yellow star on the front, that had a smiling face and said 'daddies little star' under it in yellow text. the second one was a white one with a dinosaur print all over it, and Matt fought the urge to facepalm. 'I really need to start watching my goddamn mouth.' he thought. "So buddy, what do you thin? wanna be my widdle star, or a dino boy?" Tai asked. "Gee, they're BOTH so tempting." Matt said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. If Tai noticed though he didn't show it and just nodded instead. "You're right, I'll pick for you." '...REALLY need to just keep my effing mouth shut!'

In the end Tai went with the little star onesie, though he'd over estimated just how thick he could go and still use them as it was a bit of a fight to get the crotch snaps to close. "I think after we get you your little guitar, we'll go shopping and get more cute outfits for my widdle musician." Tai said. He could tell Matt was less then pleased, but the boy forced a smile on his face and nodded. "whatever you want ta-" he started to say. "ah ah ah, when your butt is in diapers, it's DADDY. Got it?" Tai said, wagging a finger and smirking. "..Yeah OK." Matt replied, rolling his eyes. "yeah OK what?" Tai questioned, the grin getting bigger. "...Yeah OK daddy." Matt said, smiling but clenching his teeth. Tugging Matt over/ helping the padded cutie keep his balance, Tai sat down in his big comfy computer chair and tugged Matt into his lap, giving the big baby's neck a kiss. "Now did you have a certain store in mind, or just want me to google and shop around?" Tai asked.

[alj4890]

Kiss/Love Prompts

(Maxwell Beaumont x Nadia Park) with the prompt: A gentle kiss that quickly descends into passion, with little regard for what’s going on around them as requested by Anonymous. (Thomas Hunt x oc*Amanda) with the prompt: Staring at each other’s lips for a moment before moving closer, as if drawn together by some unseen force also requested by Anonymous. And the prompt: "I shouldn't be here." As requested by @krsnlove​

(Maxwell x Nadia) (Thomas x Amanda) in a The Royal Heir/Red Carpet Diaries/Perfect Match crossover Fan Fiction

@lxaah11​   @alleksa16​   @penguininapinktuxedo​   @blackcoffee85​   @stopforamoment​     @hopelessromantic1352​     @krsnlove​     @annekebbphotography​        @hopelessromantic1352​   . @sunflowergirl05​   @desireepow-1986​  @greywitchyshots​   @lilyofchoices @moodyvalentinestories​  @emceesynonymroll   @my-heart-beats-for-ya @aworldoffandoms   @ab1901     @lolablackwrites     @flyawayboo   @i-bloody-love-drake-walker   . @trappedinfandoms   @kate-mckenzie

A/N This isn’t a part of any particular AU, but the idea came to me while listening to one of my playlists and somehow this storyline came about, LOL. It will be a short miniseries because somehow it blossomed in size the more I went into it. I changed Nadia’s problems with Eros for this and made her and Rachel Hunt old college roommates. Without further ado, let's see if Thomas Hunt's sister, Rachel, knows what she is doing when she sets him up on a blind date. Maxwell also plans his hand at matchmaking once more. He was awfully successful with Riley and Liam. And what are plans without a few troublemakers in the mix?

Song: In My Dreams

Masterlist

part 2

A Not So Perfect Match (Part 1)

Upper East Side, New York, Friday the 12th...

"Rachel!" Nadia squealed before squeezing her surprise visitor in a tight hug. 

"I've missed you too." Rachel patted her back. Her eyes widened at the top of her old friend’s once striking, jet black hair. “You colored your hair?!”

“Yeah.” Nadia pushed her now caramel hair back over her shoulders. “I needed a change.” Her brow furrowed with this unexpected visit. "What are you doing in New York?" 

"I came to check on you." She replied. “You didn’t sound right when we last talked.” 

The petite artist teared up some at the sweet gesture. "You shouldn't have come all this way. I'm fine."

"Nadia." Rachel grasped her friend's shoulders. "I lived with you for four years in college. I think after you comforted me during my crying jag over that moron, Nelson, who stood me up our freshman year, we are way past having to fake being fine."

Nadia's overly bright smile dimmed. "Thank God. I didn't think I could continue acting happy." Her eyebrows drew together with worry. "Not that I'm not thrilled to see you again, it's just..." She took a deep breath. "It's just that I'm tired."

Rachel waited silently for her to elaborate.

Nadia groaned, thoroughly disgusted with herself. "I know when we last talked, I told you about the Eros debacle."

"Yes." Rachel moved her hand in an impatient motion to get her to continue.

"Well, ever since Damien found out the dating service was actually for people who wanted to cheat on their significant others and that it had someone perfectly matched for me, I have been too scared to try dating again.."

"Why?"

"Because!" Nadia practically exploded off the couch. "Each guy I think is the one turns out to be my worst nightmare. They either cheat, or stalk me, or take my left shoes, or--"

"Whoa. Back up. Who took your left shoes?!" Rachel glanced down at her own footwear, wondering why a man would do such a thing.

"Evan." Nadia reminded her. "Remember? Junior year, he broke into our room and took two left shoes from my closet."

Rachel's eyes narrowed as she thought back. "I completely forgot about that."

"I wish I could." Nadia tilted her head for her friend to follow. "I've recently made a study of my bad boyfriends."

She led her into the second bedroom of her apartment. There was a large rolling bulletin board covered in pictures of various men. Multicolored strands of yarn went from one ex to another.

"Wow." Rachel stepped forward and read the notes written in glitter gel pens and such her friend had posted with each one. "Nadia, perhaps--"

"Look, I know it's crazy and I'm crazy for going through with making this." Nadia's eyes filled with tears. "I have to know why I'm a jerk magnet."

"You're not a jerk magnet." Rachel rolled her eyes. "You have simply had a run of bad luck."

"It isn't a run! It's years of this." Nadia pointed out.

The evidence on the board was damning. It did seem that somehow the jerks of the world latched on to Nadia.

"You need a change." Rachel decided. "Pack your bags. You're coming with me to California."

"What?" Nadia exclaimed. "Rachel, I can't just--"

"Yes, you can." Rachel went to Nadia's room and began to go through her clothes. "We will go shopping once there. But for the time being, these will do." She pulled out several outfits and laid them on the bed. "I'm going to introduce you to someone that I believe is perfect for you."

"Who?" Nadia asked. An excited trepidation overcame her.

Could the perfect guy be waiting for her in Hollywood?

"My brother." Rachel declared. "Like you, Thomas hasn't had the best of luck with dating." A smile slowly formed as she imagined one of her best friends marrying her only brother. And it would all be because of her brilliant matchmaking.

"Rach, I don't know." Nadia hedged. "Didn't you say he is," she hesitated, "kind of grumpy?"

"He definitely is." Rachel searched for a suitcase. "And that's why I think you would be perfect for him. He needs someone sweet."

"I'm not so sure it will work out. You said he has a quick temper. I do too and--"

"You both have an artistic temperament." Rachel pointed out. "While yours is on canvas, his is film." She continued to pack Nadia's bags. "I can't wait for you two to finally meet."

When she noticed her friend trying to think of a way out of going, she decided to use their new current obsession. They had spent numerous hours on the phone talking about their favorite book.

"Maxwell Beaumont is bringing everyone in The Royal Romance to Hollywood in a few days."

"What?!" Nadia squealed. "Do you think we could meet them?!"

"Tommy Phelps invited my brother to a party for the nobles." Rachel laughed when Nadia dramatically flopped on her bed. "I talked Thomas into taking me. If you come, he can take us both."

And then you'll fall in love with each other, she thought.

"Why didn't you lead with that?!" Nadia broke into a wide smile. “I would love to go to California."

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

A private jet, a few hours east of Hollywood...

"Excited?" Maxwell asked.

"Sorry?" Amanda removed her ear buds. "Did you say something?"

"Are you excited?" Maxwell repeated.

"About going to Hollywood? Of course." Amanda slipped her ear buds back in, assuming the conversation over.

He yanked out the right one.

"I'm sorry, were you not finished?" She set her kindle down.

"Amanda, you're about to meet everyone who's playing your favorite people in the world!" He took her by her shoulders and playfully shook her. "How can you sit there calmly?"

She laughed at his antics. "I am curious who the director picked to play you."

"I'll give you a hint." His dimples deepened. "Your favorite actor is playing yours truly."

"No!" Amanda's eyes widened. "Are you saying that Ryan Summers is playing you? Ryan I am too handsome to be true Summers?"

He nodded, finally content at having worked her into an excited frenzy.

"I love his movies." Amanda sighed. "Any chance you added a hidden romance for you in the script?" Her lips curved in a teasing smile. "I would be willing to work for free to share a love scene or two with him."

"Oh really?" Maxwell teased. "I guess it's a good thing I told him that if he wanted to learn more about me, then he should spend time with you."

"Shut up!" Amanda hit his arm. "You didn't!? Did you?"

"I did." He winked at her. "Perhaps you can also get to know him."

Amanda fanned herself with her tablet. "I can't imagine talking to him much less spending time with him."

"Breathe." Maxwell repeated. "In and out."

"This is going to be the best trip ever." She declared.

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

Hollywood, Sunday the 14th...

"Come in." Thomas yelled out when he heard the persistent knock.

Rachel opened the door to his apartment. "Busy?"

He finished packing a stack of books in a crate. "Only with getting the last of my things on the moving truck."

"Good thing I came ready to help.” Rachel rolled up her sleeves.

"Thank you." He handed her a box and motioned toward the awards case. "Bubble wrap is over there."

"This is it for the bathroom." Ryan came around the corner. "And I managed to-- Rachel!"

She smiled at him over her shoulder. "Hello Ryan."

His slow, suggestive smile that made his horde of fans shiver formed. "I didn't know you were stopping by. I would have dressed up."

Thomas eyed the two silently.

"I like to surprise my brother. Keeps him tethered to the real world." She teased.

Thomas did not bother to respond to her quip as he hefted a box downstairs.

Ryan set his own box down and helped Rachel reach one of the awards on a top shelf.

"I heard you were in New York." He helped her wrap one of the SAG Awards.

"I was."

He paused waiting on her to say why she went there.

She glanced up at him. "I went to talk a friend of mine into coming here for a visit."

"A friend, huh?" His smile grew at the thought of her having a secret love. "Is this a close friend?"

"Very close." Rachel replied.

"Really?" Ryan turned away from her and picked up a box to take downstairs.

"I think she is perfect for Thomas." Rachel added when he stepped out the door.

Ryan slowly backed up. "Who's perfect for Thomas?"

"My friend in New York. Nadia." She explained. "I intend to put them together."

Ryan thought about the numerous ways this could end badly for all parties involved yet wisely kept it to himself. "When do I get to meet her?"

"You don't. Not until she meets Thomas." Rachel's nose crinkled. "You're too handsome."

His brow furrowed. "And this is bad?"

"Yes." Rachel faced him with her hands on her hips. "I can't tell you how many women have told me that you blind everyone with your looks and charm. I need Nadia to truly see Thomas. Once that is done, then you can meet her."

Ryan casually leaned against the doorframe. "Do I blind you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Not at all. I'm immune to the charms of actors and models. One of the perks to having Thomas as a brother." She cut her eyes to him. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious." He winked at her and said over his shoulder. "I like to know who will let me get away with anything by just flashing a smile."

She shook her head in exasperation while packing the rest of Thomas' awards away.

Her brother returned, frowning slightly at the few items that were left.

"Thomas?"

"Hmm?"

"Moving into your home seems like a new beginning, doesn't it?" She asked, attempting to sound innocent.

Perhaps a little too innocently.

His eyes narrowed. "What are you getting at?"

"Nothing." She kept her back to him. "Just that life itself can change when one moves out of their comfort zone."

"I'm moving to a home I personally designed as my comfort zone." He grumbled.

She grit her teeth at how obtuse he could be sometimes. "I meant that you will have a place where new memories can be made without the stigma of the old."

He stopped packing and folded his arms. "What new memories are you talking about?"

"Well," she shrugged a shoulder. "You'll be making new movies. Throwing parties--"

"I'm not throwing parties."

"New romance." She continued, pretending he had not interrupted.

"I'm not interested." He informed her.

"You will be when you meet the right person." She set the last of his awards in the box. "Thomas, you built a home with eight bedrooms."

"And?"

"And what better way to fill them than with a family!" She exclaimed.

"Rachel, I built those for visitors. Plus, I am using some of those rooms for--"

"When do you invite people to stay with you?" She snapped. "And don't you dare say you are using them for your movie paraphernalia."

Thomas ran his hands over his face. "Rachel, I appreciate your concern, but I am perfectly content as a bachelor. I don't have to worry about whether or not I am focusing on a relationship like I should when a new film comes my way. The unnecessary drama of trying to figure out how serious we should be or--"

"That's why I have the perfect person for you!"

His eyes widened. "What?"

"You mean, who." She smiled at him. "I found someone who understands getting swept away with artistic endeavors."

"Rachel, you are not setting me up with someone." He stated firmly.

"Yes, I am." She argued. "Nadia is the one for you."

"Nadia?" Thomas' frown firmed as he tried to recall how he knew that name. "Your old roommate? The one you claimed was deeply in love with love?"

"That was nearly ten years ago." Rachel waved her hand dismissively. "She's mellowed some."

"No." He snapped. "Thank you for what I assume is a loving gesture on your part, but I am not interested."

"You're meeting her Thursday night for dinner at La Boucherie ." Rachel informed him. "Then escorting us next Friday to The Royal Romance party." She hefted her box and walked out the door, yelling, "Don't even think of getting out of it!"

Ryan dodged her on his way back inside. "What's wrong with Rachel?"

"She set me up on a blind date." Thomas replied bitterly. "One I neither asked for nor wanted."

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

The Royal Romance movie set, Tuesday the 16th...

"Here's the ballroom where we have the big BOOM" Tommy Phelps moved his hands like a bomb blowing up.

"But the night when Liam was crowned King was when the photos happened." Riley pointed out. "Not the night when the Sons of the Earth attacked."

"Love how you're thinking." Tommy said. "But we thought fireworks exploding during that big reveal of you and Tariq would really hammer home how little control you had."

"That moment was fraught with turmoil." Liam argued. "I had to immediately come up with a way to keep Riley safe while also trying to find a way to be with her." He looked about the ballroom. "I don't think fireworks do justice to that heartbreaking moment."

He shifted his daughter in his arms when she grunted.

Riley slipped her arm around him. She alone knew how he still suffered from that one night's decision. To this day, he apologized for being unable to choose her in that moment.

While the director continued to discuss options with the royal couple, Maxwell led the others to meet their actors.

"And this is Ryan Summers, aka me." Maxwell cocked his head to the side as he studied the man. "It's like looking in a mirror."

"I don't think you know what a mirror is." Drake commented.

"See." Seth pointed out. "This is what I am talking about. I need to know how you use your snark when talking to others."

"I still can't believe they chose Seth Levine for Drake." Amanda whispered to Olivia. "He is nothing like him."

Olivia nodded before turning her attention to the actress cast as her. "They made the right choice for me. Victoria Fontaine is known for not taking crap from anyone."

The normally blonde beauty had her hair the exact shade of Olivia's rich red locks. She was in the midst of training with a pair of daggers.

"She's got potential." Olivia muttered. When she noticed Amanda's lack of comment, she turned to see what held her attention.

"Really Amanda?" She teased. "You're drooling."

She quickly touched the corner of her dry parted lips before scowling. "Look at him!" She whispered. "He's more handsome than I expected."

"I guess Ryan is not too hard on the eyes." Olivia conceded.

"Amanda!" Maxwell motioned for her to come over. "I need you to tell Ryan how wonderful I am."

She steeled herself and hoped she didn't succumb to giggling like an idiot when he spoke to her.

Ryan held his hand out. "So this is the other friend who only knew of circumstances through phone calls?"

"That's me." Amanda could feel her skin flush from her neck to the tips of her ears. "I was away caring for my late uncle during Liam's search."

Maxwell grinned at her hand remaining in Ryan's. "She was the voice of reason whenever I called in a panic. If anyone can tell you what I went through during my times alone, it is the duchess I would call at three in the morning for encouragement."

"You won’t mind my pestering you?" Ryan's smile flashed causing her cheeks to turn darker.

"Not at all." She replied, smiling shyly back.

"Sounds like you two could use that dinner reservation I won't be able to make." Maxwell interjected. "Perfect opportunity to talk about me."

"What?" Amanda turned abruptly toward him. Her hand slipped from Ryan's grasp.

"Thursday night, seven o'clock. My agent unfortunately scheduled a last-minute book signing for that night. " Maxwell quirked an eyebrow at Ryan. "Any chance you could take her to dinner at La Boucherie?"

"Maxwell--" her voice almost squeaked with embarrassment. "I... I’m sure Ryan has...we can't..."

"Sure." Ryan responded. "I'll come by and pick you up." He smiled once more at Amanda as he left the two to speak to Tommy.

She pinched Maxwell underneath his arm.

"Ow!" He rubbed the spot. "What was that for."

"Did you just set me up with Ryan Summers?" Amanda hissed.

"Are you asking if I concocted a plan to have one of my best friends go to a romantic dinner for two with the one actor she gasped over when he removed his shirt during a love scene?" He countered.

She dropped her head in her hands. "Maxwell!"

"You're welcome." His sing song voice taunted her as he left her alone.

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

"Here you go Chris." Addison helped him into another jacket. "Better?" She asked when he moved his arms.

"Much better." He replied. "Thanks Addison."

She smiled and went to check on Cassandra's ballgown, pausing when she overheard one of the nobles talking about someone she knew well.

"I still think Thomas Hunt should have directed this." The dark-haired duchess muttered behind her cup.

"You sure it isn't your crush on him making you say that?" Asked the guy that was clearly best friends with the king.

Addison ducked behind a column to continue to eavesdrop. She peeked around it to see how the duchess looked when responding.

"Just because I've always found him attractive doesn't mean he isn't a talented director. When I think of all he could have done with this story--" she smacked the man's arm.

"Amanda, what was that for?!" He asked.

"You know what you were doing, Drake Walker." She wagged a finger at him. “I don’t make that expression whenever I talk about him.”

"Would you have been able to concentrate on the tour if Hunt was directing?" Drake teased.

Amanda's cheeks turned red. "I highly doubt it." She lowered her eyes. "I was secretly hoping we could still meet him." She looked around the set. "Seems unlikely now."

"You've got a few weeks to casually bump into him." Drake countered, nudging her side. "Just because you haven't seen him after a day or so in Hollywood, doesn't mean you won't."

Addison studied the noble closely. She might work for Thomas, she thought. Then the next words she overheard caused her to decide then and there to set Thomas up with this lady.

"I guess we better rejoin the others. Tommy probably has this whole soundstage rigged to blowup like every other movie he has directed." Amanda grumbled. "Would it kill him to stick to the heartache and romance of Liam and Riley's story?"

Addison quickly pulled her phone out and sent a quick text.

Holly. I found her.

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

Later that afternoon, The Beverly Wiltshire...

Nadia closed her eyes and sank deeper into the pool, sighing at how wonderful it felt. She tilted her head back, enjoying the sensation of the cool water mixed with the warmth of the sun.

She might have to visit California more often.

She sat up with a start, spluttering at the wave of water that crashed over her.

"I'm so sorry! You okay? I tripped and almost landed on you. It was either splashing you or drowning you."

She rubbed her eyes and blinked at the man nearly tripping over his words with the speed he was speaking. A pair of startling blue eyes were narrowed in concern at her silence.

Her lips parted at the face that slowly came into focus. The very face that graced the cover of the book she kept on her nightstand sheepishly smiled at her.

"I hope I didn't hurt you." He said, dimples deepening.

"I'm fine." She managed to say, smiling at him. "Besides, if I didn't want to get wet, I shouldn't have come to the pool."

His smile grew. "I've never understood people who want to just lay out by water. Who can resist how great it is to swim?"

"Exactly!" She exclaimed. "I'm usually the one having to drag my best friend into the water. He thinks he is too old to play in the pool."

Maxwell shook his head in sympathy. "It takes special people to be friends with such a person. We have to work so much harder to make sure they have fun."

"That's what I always say!" Nadia covered her mouth at how loud her words were. She was so excited to be talking to the Maxwell Beaumont that she lost all volume control.

He smiled and held his hand out. "I'm Maxwell by the way."

"I know." She bounced a little in the water with meeting him on her first day out. "I am your biggest fan! Well, me and Rachel are. I can't tell you how much I LOVE your book!"

Maxwell couldn't stop smiling. "I love meeting a fan."

Her bouncing began to make waves. "Fan hardly describes it. Not that I'm like obsessed with you or anything." She quickly amended. "I've had a stalker fan before. Not. Fun. At. All. Huge fan of your work is a little more appropriate."

His smile dimmed. "You had a stalker?" His eyes swept over her. "I wish I had Amanda here. She could tell me what movie I must have seen you in."

Nadia laughed and shook her head. "I doubt it. I've never done any acting. I'm an artist." She explained moving her hand as if it held a brush. "Paints and canvas."

He playfully wiped his brow in relief. "Thank goodness. I was about to call a doctor to check me over for a head injury if I had forgotten someone like you."

Her cheeks flushed. "I--that's so--thank you." She clasped her hands together to keep from fidgeting. "If you are ever in New York, you'll have to come by my gallery."

"New York huh?" His eyes held hers. "I should have known. After meeting Riley there, I've learned that amazing women come from that city."

Nadia thought she might melt right then and there.

He moved a little closer to her. "Nadia, I don't suppose--"

"Maxwell!" Hana called out. "There you are!" She sent a brief smile toward Nadia. "Sorry to interrupt but Tommy's been trying to get a hold of you. He needs to discuss another scene he thinks needs to be amped up."

"Be right there." His smile disappeared at having to leave. "It was nice meeting you Nadia."

"Best day ever." She replied.

He fought his grin. "Any chance you'll be staying in Hollywood for a while."

"A couple of weeks." She replied.

"Here? At the hotel?" He pushed himself out of the pool.

She became speechless at the sight of him shirtless and dripping wet. "Um. Hmm? Yeah."

He quickly dried off. "Then I hope to splash you again." He winked at her and hurried off.

She watched him until he went back inside before ducking under the water. She let out a squeal once under then popped back to the surface.

Nadia scrambled out of the pool and reached for her phone. "Rach? I JUST MET MAXWELL BEAUMONT!"

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

Later that night at The Ivy...

At a table for four out on the back patio, Holly waved to get her friend’s attention.

"Hey guys." Addison pulled a chair out and collapsed. "I needed this."

Steve chuckled at her actions. "Hard day?"

"Hard barely covers it." She grumbled. "With all the fireworks and explosions, I'm going to have to find flame retardant material to make ballgowns out of."

"Could be worse." Holly countered. "You could be helping Thomas move into his new home."

Steve grimaced at the reminder of his current assignment. "Or trying to draw up the right plans for his guest house." He rubbed his temple. "I somehow convinced myself that it would go easier after drawing up blueprints for his dream home." He downed his cocktail. "I've never been more wrong."

"He is a demanding, highly detailed man." Holly muttered. "Turns out great on film but is such a pain to work with."

"At least with Thomas, there aren't any surprises." Addison countered. "I'd willingly trade spots right now for a break from Tommy."

"Don't worry. You'll soon be back where you belong." Holly lifted her menu and grinned. "Tortured with the rest of us as we deal with Mr. Hunt's next vision."

"This is the last time I volunteer to work under Tommy." Addison swore.

Steve leaned closer and lifted a blonde lock of her hair. "Addison? Did you get burned?"

She glanced down and let out a shrill shriek. "MY HAIR!"

Holly coughed to cover her laughter. "I'm so sorry." Tears fell with her suppressed laughter. "I'm not laughing about what happened, just your reaction."

Addison dropped her head on the table with a loud thunk. "I need drinks."

"On it." Steve got their waiter's attention and ordered her favorite.

She sighed and resumed sitting up straight. "Thanks."

"Cheer up." Holly nudged her. "We can get your hair cut in a cute style before Matt gets back in town."

"I know." She mumbled.

Steve and Holly shared a glance at their friend’s unusual low spirits. "So tell us about this woman you found for Thomas."

Steve quirked an eyebrow. "I'm curious how you plan on getting them together. He's already trying to get out of one blind date."

"Blind date?" Addison narrowed her eyes. "But I found the perfect one! Who set him up?"

"Rachel." Holly explained. "With an old roommate of hers."

"She's an artist from New York." Steve added.

"No. Nope. She will not be his perfect match. The lady from Cordonia will." Addison argued. "And I think I know how to get them to meet. Is Thomas still planning on doing that sci-fi movie?"

"You know he is." Holly answered, wondering where she was going with this. "He's been taking his time with it during this move. Plans on focusing on it in a few weeks."

Addison pulled her phone out. "Don't judge me for this, but I took some pictures of the one I want for him."

Her friends studied the first image.

"She's pretty." Steve zoomed in on her face.

"I agree." Holly studied the next picture Addison had snapped.

"Look at her eyes." Addison pointed out.

The two were silent as they did as she said.

"Okay." Steve said slowly. "She has beautiful eyes."

"Oh." Holly blinked. "Oh, you're good."

"Right?!" Addison exclaimed.

"Am I missing something?" Steve asked.

"When are you doing this?" Holly asked. "How will you get her to do this?"

"I overheard her say she hoped to go on a tour of the studio. I thought I could offer to take her to Thomas's soundstage and," she scrunched her shoulders with anticipation, "watch the two fall in love."

"Hello?" Steve waved at them. "Guy over here that isn't fluent in Chang-Sinclaire-ese."

"Addison is going to pretend she's found the perfect person to play the female lead in Thomas's next film." Holly explained. "He has stated more than once that he believes he needs an actress with large, expressive eyes."

"Oh." He looked down at Amanda's face again. "You are good."

 "Good enough to have you buy dinner for me?" Addison teased.

"I did just build a multimillion-dollar home." He pretended to think about it. "And you were singed on the job."

Addison clasped her hands together. "Think of my poor hair and how desperately it needs nutrients."

"I guess I could be talked into it." He smiled at her. "I do owe you both for recommending me to Thomas."

"Wait, you're paying for mine too?" Holly rose halfway out of her chair to search for their waiter. "I need to add to my order."

Once they had their entrees, Addison studied the two closely as they talked about their day. Feeling confident in her choice for Thomas, she began to wonder which individuals she could match them with.

[rebo-chan]

Day 3 Kami/Ghost

The computer’s lighting illuminated the dark room. Light could feel his eyes aching from the overly bright blue light of the computer. The taskforce had gone home for the evening already, but Light had stayed up to finish some leftover work. It was decided that Light would take over the passed detective’s work and Light quickly figured out the reason for the large bags under L’s eyes. He closed his eyes, trying to rub the sleep out of them. A migraine had begun to form in the back of his head. Light let out a groan and slumped against the desk. He was beyond tired. Perhaps, he should go home. 

Misa would still be up waiting on him, probably with dinner already prepared. It would’ve gone cold already, but he could just heat it up. Yes, that’s what he needed right now. A hot meal, a drink, some migraine pills, and to get to sleep. He can complete the work tomorrow. 

Light opened his eyes to the dark room belonging to the taskforce. He lifted his head and went to save his work. In Light’s peripheral vision, there was a silhouette walking down the pitch black hall. Something blue and white. Light froze in his spot. Was there someone in the building? How did they get past all of L’s security measures? No, right now that didn’t matter. Light stood up from his seat. 

“Excuse me,” He called as sternly as he could muster, “This is a confidential building, you’re not allowed to be in here.” 

There was no response back. Light didn’t have any weapons on him. Well, perhaps he had one but without a name, it was virtually useless to protect him in this situation. He steeled himself and went into the hallway where he saw the silhouette turn a corner. Did they not hear him? Should he risk speaking again? Light sucked in a breath and followed them. They kept on going, taking the stairs up to the roof. Light glared as they went on to the roof. The audacity of some people. Breaking and entering was bad enough, but the fact that exploring the place like it was their home was just plain rude. 

“Hey!” Light shouted, walking up to the roof. There were rain clouds out in the night sky. A storm was beginning to brew in the sky, so the winds were rather harsh.

The person seemed to hear him this time, but they didn’t appear startled in the least bit. They began to turn towards them. Light got close enough to make out some features and felt his blood cold. Pale skin, raven black hair, a white shirt, and blue jeans. His lungs began to constrict. No no no, this wasn’t real. The migraine in the back of his head got worse. His head felt like it was splitting open. He tried to suck in as much oxygen as he could, but it only made the pain worse. Light keeled over in pain, gripping his head. Something wet hit his cheek. Then, a few droplets hit the ground. The sound of rain filled Light’s ears. 

Light released his head, glancing up to see the rooftop was now empty. It was Light and the rain on the rooftop. He looked around for the person, but there was no one. Was Light just imagining him? No, he was definitely there but was that possible? Light stood up shakily, having already been soaked from the rain. He left the rooftop in a hurry, his hair and clothes sticking to him. 

Light quickly got back to the taskforce main room, The laptop was still on with Light’s unsaved work on the screen. He was going to leave it untouched. Now, he just wanted to get home. Light packed his things as fast as he could humanely go and evacuated the HQ for the evening. 

In brighter news, he had been right about Misa. When he’d gotten home, she was laid on the couch watching something on the TV. She burst into action as he walked through the door, giving him a tight hug and going to heat up his food. Light sighed as he sat down at the dinner table. There were still remains of the migraine, but he should eat before taking some medicine. Light tried to keep the image of that person out of his head. It wasn’t possible. 

“Light,” Misa chirped, “Do you know what tomorrow is?”

“..Hm?” He looked over at her tiredly. 

“Aw, how could you forget? It’s Sayu’s birthday!” She chuckled.

Light blinked, remembering the date. Oh, shit she was right. He completely forgot about it, so he didn’t have a present. Sayu would skin him apart, if he showed up without a present. Misa placed the plate of Light’s food next to him. 

“You don’t have a present, do you?” She snickered. 

“No, no I don’t..” Light frowned.

“That’s okay, we can go shopping tomorrow together to get something for her before we head over to your family home.” 

Yes, yes that was a good idea. Light would contact Mogi and tell him to save the work that Light had already completed. He needed the day off. It would help him forget what he saw earlier. Misa sat across from Light, her fingers intertwined together as she smiled at Light. She seemed excited. 

“What is it?” Light said. 

“I was thinking, we could buy a cake tomorrow too.” Misa smiled gently.

Images of pale skin and black hair flashed in his mind and the migraine tripled in intensity. Light pressed his lips together tightly, gripping the tableside. 

“Why? Sayu’s not a child anymore.” 

Misa blinked, “Well, I think she’ll like it.”

“Doubt it..” The migraine was getting worse. 

“I talk to her more often than you do now,” Misa hummed, “C’mon, it’s just a cake. What about a vanilla cake?” 

Light glared down at his untouched food. His appetite was gone now and the back of his head was throbbing. Misa kept going. 

“Though, vanilla can be a little boring I guess. How about chocolate?” 

Light didn’t respond, trying to focus on willing the headache away. Misa didn’t seem deterred by Light’s silence.

“What about strawberry?-” 

“Misa, shut up.” Light hissed out. 

Misa went quiet. He looked up at her. A few years ago, she would’ve cried or threw a tantrum at Light doing that. Now, she just watched him like she knew something he didn’t. That’s how she always looks now. 

“I’m sorry,” He said, “I’ve got a horrible headache.” 

Misa perked up at that, “Have you taken any medicine?”

 If Light didn’t know any better, he would’ve been convinced that she was already over it but he did know better. Misa was tiptoeing around him, choosing to play the role of the concerned girlfriend rather than start a fight. 

“No, I haven’t.” Light answered. 

“There’s some medicine in the bathroom mirror cabinet.” She smiled at him. 

Light nodded, getting up from his seat and trekking his way to the bathroom. He stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, seeing how he looked. Black eyebags had formed, his hair was sticking up in random places completely unbrushed and dirty from the rain, his clothes were wrinkly having dried wrong. Light had to laugh at himself. This had to be some joke. He was a fucking mess.

He opened the mirror cabinet and pulled out a pill bottle, taking two out and popping them into his mouth. Light closed the cabinet and stared at the mirror’s reflection. He dropped the pill bottle onto the ground and started shaking. Staring back at him was black eyes, raven black hair, and pale skin.

“L..” Light choked out. 

What appeared to be L only smiled at him in that mischievous way that L would when he knew he was winning. Light trembled, frozen in his spot. L opened his mouth, saying something though there was no noise coming out. Light knew what he was saying though. Ki-ra. 

“Leave me alone!” Light screamed, throwing his fist at L before backing against the bathroom wall in horror. 

There was the sound of shattering glass and Misa shouting from the other room. She ran in, horrified. Light had slided down to the bathroom floor, hand bleeding out from several cuts. There was glass scattered around the bathroom floor and the mirror was broken beyond repair.

“What happened?” Misa’s voice shook with fear. 

“L.. L was there!” Light pointed at the broken mirror with his bloody hand. The pain was beginning to register and he pulled his hand back to his chest, cradling it gently. He panted heavily, trying to calm himself. Misa looked at the mirror. She was still fearful, but from something else now.

“Light..” She said hesitantly, like she was walking into territory she was unsure how to trek on. “L is not there..” 

“He was!” Light exclaimed, “He was there, staring at me!” 

“L is gone, Light.” Misa said. “He has been gone for years now. You did not see L.” 

“Yes, I did..!” Light’s voice came out weak. 

“No, you didn’t.” She smiled weakly. 

Misa walked over to Light, helping him off the bathroom floor, “Let’s patch up your cuts, okay?” 

“I’m not crazy,” Light gripped her hand tightly, “He was there. I saw him.” 

“I know, you’re not crazy, okay? So, let’s go to the bedroom and you can get some sleep. You’ve been working for the last two days.” 

Two days? Is that how long it’s been? He followed Misa out to the bedroom where she set him down on the bed and started immediately bandaging up his hand. 

“He was there..” Light pulled his hand back when she was down.

“Shh, I know.. I know..” 

Misa pushed him down against the bed, wearing that same smile she wore when she knew something he didn’t. Light wasn’t crazy. L was definitely there. It would be just like L to torment Light after death like this.

[harryandmolly]

The Emancipation of Ginny ~ 7

summary: shawn and ginny could’ve ruined everything six months ago, and sticking together despite their past could make or break them now as ginny stays on as his personal assistant. but what happens on tour doesn’t stay on tour.

warnings: Language, champagne, redheads

WC: 5.5k

Shawn’s lips part in shock when Ginny stands and practically leaps on the blonde girl at the bar who he too noticed has been checking her out all night. He watches as Ginny turns on the charm, leaning into her ear with a smile to tell her her name with a soft, whispered giggle. She takes the woman’s hand and shakes it slowly, holding intense eye contact. He sneers watching the blonde go sparkle-eyed and blushy. He knows that face. He’s made that face a lot for Ginny.

His friends are elsewhere, distracted by the night. It’s a great bar. Everyone’s having fun. He was having fun up until about five minutes ago. Now, with a quickly warming glass of expensive whiskey in his fist watching someone’s hand flirt up the thigh of the woman who haunts him, he’s not having fun.

+

Bianca is a perfectly good sport when Ginny wakes her up clunking into her shoes with a guilty smile. She half-heartedly offers breakfast and it’s clear if Ginny takes her up on it she’ll be very put out. With a sleepy wave, Ginny is out the door, dying phone in hand, squinting at the bluish light of morning when she steps out on the very sketchy corner somewhere off the high street.

She heaves a sigh. Her feet are sore. Her lips are swollen. Her mind is numb.

Leaning over a rubbish bin, she empties at least some of last night’s mistakes on top of some smashed-up old pizza boxes, coughing and clearing her throat. She straightens up, shakes her misshapen curls out of her face and marches off to face her walk of shame.

Mercifully, because something has to go right in Ginny’s life right now, her mum is out at the farmer’s market when she comes back to shower and change so she’s not around to give her the eyes (you know the ones) for staying out all night and coming home in such a state.

She doesn’t have time to get cute. She has to get back to the hotel to get Shawn on a plane back to Toronto. She only has time to look like she survived the night.

She also definitely doesn’t have time to think too hard. Thank god.

Before long, she’s outside Shawn’s hotel door with breakfast attempting to knock gently with her elbow because he’s probably still asleep. She bumps her arm against the door a few times before maneuvering the Pret bag onto her lifted knee so she can slip her extra keycard into his door.

“Need help?”

She nearly jumps out of her skin, tightening her grip on the coffee tray awkwardly so it nearly tips. She wobbles, breakfast sandwiches on her makeshift lap table weedling. Shawn grabs both from her before she can lose control of them.

She flips her hair out of her face to turn. He’s wearing a boyish smirk framed by warm pink cheeks and a sweaty brow. He got into the gym early. She clears her throat.

“Idiot,” she chuckles.

“Nah. Would’ve been stupid if I didn’t know I could catch ‘em.”

She sighs and lets them into his room, holding his door open for him to carry their food inside.

“Thanks for this,” he hums, holding up her offering.

She shrugs. “You pay me for it, mate.”

Shawn flinches, not at her tone, she guesses, but at her use of the casual term he thought they shed. She aims her gaze at her feet and listens to him crumple the wax paper around his croissant sandwich.

“You’re up early,” she points out.

He shrugs, his back to her. “Couldn’t sleep.���

Her jaw tightens. She nods and shoves her hands in her pockets. “Oh. Maybe you’ll sleep on the plane.”

He’s going home for a week and honestly, it probably couldn’t have come at a better time. They could probably use a little space. Between recording and Ibiza and all the meetings Shawn’s been taking trying to plan out every thirty second increment of his future, they’ve both been wearing thin. Their relationship is showing the strain. It’ll give her time to stay in London and spend real time with both her parents, separately of course, and Hannah. She’s reminded momentarily of The Plan they need to riddle out.

He shrugs again, even more half-heartedly, like the energy it takes to communicate with her is more and more taxing every minute. She runs her tongue along her top row of teeth and fiddles with her septum piercing, flipping it up and down.

“Are you packed, then?”

He finally turns around and nods, plunking down gracelessly on the end of his unmade bed, coffee in one hand, food in the other. He jams a bite in his mouth.

“Dunno where my passport is though,” he mumbles.

She smiles and cocks her head warmly. “I have it.”

He looks up, adams apple bobbing as he swallows. He goes a little pinker under his eyes and ducks his head. “Thanks, Gin.”

They eat in not quite comfortable silence. It’s not the silence that’s unusual. Ginny and Shawn spend time in silence pretty often, probably due to the fact that it’s very rarely quiet when they’re around other people. It’s the space that’s weird. Ginny’s in an armchair next to the bed, Shawn’s on the far end of the mattress. They could pass it off as polite distance put in place to protect Ginny from Shawn’s post-gym stench but they’d both know it was just a convenient excuse.

There’s real space here neither of them knows how to bridge. So they sit and they eat.

Shawn finishes first, more fidgety than usual as he downs his sandwich in only a few bites. He stands and strips off his shirt, tossing it on top of his suitcase as he kicks at his sneakers like a teenage boy. She focuses on her coffee and not his sweaty chest.

“I’ll be out in a minute. We won’t be late,” he assures her.

When he shuts himself in the bathroom, she heaves a sigh and throws herself onto the bed with the remains of her sandwich and coffee. She ignores the way the sheets smell like him and curls up to take stock.

As she sinks into the flimsy hotel pillow, her curls buffeting out around her eyes to shield her from the world, Ginny uses her yoga training to focus on her body. When she takes the time, she realizes she feels… good. Physically, her muscles don’t seem to hold the same weight and tension they did -- that knot in her upper back is gone. Ginny wonders with a smirk if Bianca’s weight riding her face finally did the trick.

Mentally, things are foggier. She closes her eyes. She doesn’t think she feels sorry. She doesn’t think she wishes that Shawn didn’t see her hand slip around Bianca’s hip on their way out of the bar. She doesn’t think she regrets being physically close with someone in a way she’s really missed. She thinks she maybe needed it. Most of all, she doesn’t regret doing something for her.

Ginny has made a living being exactly what people need. She’s a good fit for it -- she doesn’t take the work personally. She takes every opportunity to learn about the business. She’s been on fun teams with kind people who treat her fairly. All that said, she spends most of her time serving her friends’ needs. They do what they can to serve hers, but it’s not enough. Ginny has to help herself, too.

She rolls onto her back. What do I need?

On a fundamental level, Ginny has all she needs. She has shelter, food and her health. She has friends and family and adventure. And she has some dreams.

She squeezes her eyes shut against some knee-jerk tears. Those dreams are old, dust-covered and left to rot in a corner of her brain where her ambition hasn’t reached. She loves those dreams somehow in the same deep, infinite way that she loves herself. But those dreams scare the shit out of her.

She’s been happy enough thinking of those dreams as just that, not uncovering them and directing them back toward the center of her focus where she can aim the blinding spotlight of her drive. Why change that now?

She’s deep in thought when Shawn emerges from the steaming bathroom with a towel slung around his waist. He finds her sprawled on his bed, eyes closed, jaw tight. He frowns and, without thinking too hard about it, he leans down a little to cup his hand around her ankle gently, rubbing his thumb into the firm bone.

“You ok?”

Ginny blinks and sits up on tented fingers, looking up at his face. She nods slowly.

“I’ll be ok. I’ll let you change.”

She stands and straightens up beside him. He’s watching her with concern plain on his face. She lets her eyes drift shut under the weight of her sigh. She leans into him, feels his hand come automatically, chastely to her waist to support her. He holds his breath. She presses her cheek to his, unbothered by the way his curls drop rivulets of water down her face. After only a moment or two, she pulls away with a tired smile.

“Knock on the door when you’re ready for me,” she says over her shoulder. He has no time to stop her, to look right into her eyes and try to understand where she just went before the heavy door swings shut.

He nearly stumbles to sit. His stuttering heart drops into his stomach. He plants his feet into the carpet, willing himself to feel grounded. He drops his head in his hands and counts his breaths.

And then he gets up, putting his dreams into the corner of his own mind.

+

Ginny rolls over. She glances at the clock on the bedside table and groans.

“Love, you promised.”

Her words are muffled against the pillow. Shawn winces and bites his lip, turning his head from where he’s perched on the end of his bed in Toronto, pulling on his running shoes.

“I know, I’m sorry, I have a problem.”

“Hi, my name is Shawn and I am a gymaholic,” she mutters, eyes still shut, into the pillow that smells like his shampoo. She shifts comfortably, settling back in.

Shawn watches her, heart full to bursting in his jittery chest. Despite the late night with her, he’s antsy. He has to get a workout in or he’s going to lose it. He’s just sorry it means less time in bed with her. His her.

He stands, shoes tied, hands out apologetically, “I know, I know. Sooner I leave, sooner I come back. I’ll stop and get breakfast at that French bistro, the one with the whole wheat almond croissants.”

Ginny opens her eyes suspiciously. “Keep talking.”

With her unspoken approval, Shawn brightens, scurrying around his bedroom collecting his keys and jacket. “And when I get back, we’ll eat in bed and watch a movie and take a nap and screw until we fall asleep again.”

Ginny sits up fully, sheets falling around her hips. Her hair is swept up in a pineapple, held up by a blood red scarf that she lets him take when he has to spend nights without her.

She’s perfect.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Mendes.”

He winks and waves, heading for the door. Ginny looks down and sees his phone wedged beside his pillow.

“Hey, you forgetting something?” she calls.

He looks back at her blankly. At her raised eyebrows, he turns on his heel and books it back to the bed, planting a knee beside her. He hoists himself onto the mattress, catching himself on his hands to steady his smooth but very firm kiss flat against her lips. She whimpers in surprise and thumbs across his cheek. He hangs on just long enough for her to think he’s changing his mind about leaving, but he pulls back with a flush.

“Kay. I’m gone.”

She holds up his phone with a smirk. Realization dawns on his pretty face. He chuckles, ducking his head, then grabs the phone and pecks her again. The way he hurries out the door has her falling back into his very fluffy pillows with a contented sigh. He already wants to come back to her.

+

Shawn is… jonesing.

That’s the best way to describe how he’s acting right now. He knows it. He can acknowledge how pathetic it feels. He misses Ginny like a junkie misses a fix.

He hasn’t had a ton of time to himself since he got back to Canada. First things first, he went straight to his mum and dad’s house and slept in his childhood bed for almost 12 hours. He woke up a little delirious but mum made toad in the hole. He sat on the couch with Aaliyah and let her kick his ass at Mario Kart (or so he told himself). They spent the day lazing around the house as a family before he left for the city again to meet up with the guys at one of their haunts.

He didn’t make it 28 hours before drafting a text to her.

He didn’t send it, even if it was a simple, innocuous “hey how’s home?” It felt like they had an unspoken agreement when they hugged goodbye outside security at Heathrow, that they both needed a little space. Time to regroup.

But now he’s alone, his first morning back in his condo in too long and he finds himself thinking about the times she came with him, made herself at home in his home. He took that for granted, he thinks bitterly, shaking his head at the cavalier way he’d crawl out of bed to get to the gym. He thinks he’d give anything to have those minutes or hours back, lying in bed with her, the little spoon to her big spoon.

He tilts his head back onto the arm of his couch and sprawls, his phone buzzing away on his stomach through his cozy pink hoodie. He ignores it.

He’s so frustrated he could scream. He’s the one that did this to them, anyway. He hasn’t forgotten that. He felt something wrong and he took a step back for himself. For a few months, he was so sure he did the right thing, even if it hurt. He did it for himself, so that’s ok, right?

But he always missed her. She could be sitting beside him, long legs crossed, her head on her fist as she slept upright in an airport lounge seat and he’d miss her. God, she felt so far away sometimes. How did this happen to them? Sometimes it’s like nothing has changed at all, they know each other inside and out and it’s so clear how much they love each other, in all the ways you can love someone.

And other times they’re both with other people, getting their needs met. That’s how he thinks of it, anyway. The girls he’s taken home haven’t been people he wanted to get to know. To be fair, he hasn’t gotten the impression they’ve wanted to know him either.

But Ginny leaving with that blonde the other night was more of a wake up call than it should’ve been. He should’ve been prepared for this. He should’ve known she wasn’t going to be celibate and at his beck and call forever. That’s insane for several reasons. He knows that.

God, he’s selfish. He’s a selfish ass. He should’ve let her leave when she wanted to after he broke up with her in the middle of tour. How could he not let her leave?

He thinks about the things he said to Brian the other night after Ginny left the bar. They sat in a booth, liquor in hand, talking quietly. Brian’s rarely serious but he knows how to pull it together when he sees Shawn needs him. He hasn’t seen Shawn look quite so needy in a while.

“Why did you end it then, man? I don’t get it, none of us do. You guys… I mean, I know you weren’t together long, but fuck. You know?”

Shawn wades through Brian’s jumbled question in a way only a longtime friend can. He nods miserably, shifting a hand into his hair. He tugs hard to ground himself.

“I think…” Shawn answers shakily, downing another glug of whiskey, “God, Bri, I think she’s the one. And I got scared. I’m not ready.”

He can’t stop thinking about that. He’s never let himself think about it that way, much less say it out loud.

He feels like a fool. Millions of people, his beloved fans, have watched him blubber for years about wanting to fall in love, wanting to feel his heart break so he could write about it. He’d stiffen at the way they’d roll their eyes at him and mutter to be careful what he wished for. He knew what he wanted. He wanted to feel. He wanted to love. He wanted to hurt.

He ran away from it the first chance he got.

He closes his eyes and sighs. The disappointment is stifling. So he does what he knows will bring him comfort now, more than anything else.

Shawn: hey how’s home :)

+

Shawn reaches up and taps the ashing tip of the joint against the ceramic plate on the nightstand. He tries not to jostle her as she rests against his chest, her head on his shoulder, her legs between his. She shift anyway, accommodating the flex of his arm.

Since they’re almost down to the filter and have smoked the whole thing at once, they’re both more jello than human, naked in bed in Vienna. He’s playing a show tonight. She has a bunch of calls to make and errands to run.

Shawn’s free hand wanders her body curiously, dipping in between ribs, swirling around her belly button, cupping the full warmth of her breasts while he holds the joint to her lips. She wraps her hand around his wrist and he pulls the joint back, inhaling deeply as she exhales. He smiles with the smoke filling his tired lungs. He likes that they always feel in sync.

Ginny makes a murmuring noise when he skims over a ticklish spot by her collarbones. He slows the path of his hand to soothe her. Her shoulders that went slightly tense soften. Her eyes drift closed. Her lips part with her soft breaths.

Shawn tilts his lips against her ear. “You make me so fucking happy, baby.”

Her eyes open. She drifts into a smile. “Good.”

“All day every day,” he assures her, nodding to himself. She chuckles, bouncing their bodies against the mattress. He’s stoned so it makes him laugh, too.

“Sometimes it’s scary, though,” he confides without thinking. After a beat, Ginny turns her head to look up at him.

“I think if it’s not a little bit scary, we’re not doing it right, my love.”

+

Shawn and Ginny are to meet in New York at Tiffany’s studio space in Williamsburg for his final tux fitting before the Island Records Anniversary Gala on Wednesday. It’s quite the event -- Shawn’s whole team gets to go, including Gin. Tiffany helped her pick a dress and had her fitted when she was passing through London last week during the week off.

The studio is hot and sticky just like the rest of New York City is in late July, which is why everyone and their sister is in the Hamptons this weekend. The city is unusually quiet. Williamsburg is dense with humidity and short on people. Tiffany’s delighted -- she can get here on the Subway in only 20 minutes, she says through a mouthful of pins.

She sits cross-legged at Shawn’s feet, yammering at him like she does when she’s pinning in his trousers or measuring the breadth of his shoulders. He doesn’t know how the hell she’s able to focus when she’s muttering to him like that, but she does a great job, she always does.

Ginny is in the hall on the phone with Anna. He’s got a facial scheduled this afternoon, strategically wedged in a few days before the gala as all estheticians would recommend, and Ginny’s trying to find a time to get him in with Anna for a haircut. He finds, against his will, he’s listening closer to Ginny’s warm West London brogue, thicker after she’s been home for a few days with no Canadian or American accents tainting her speech.

Tiff nudges his leg and he blinks quickly, looking down at her.

“Oh, sorry,” Shawn murmurs, “What?”

Tiff smiles patiently. “I asked if you looked at the ties I sent you.”

“Oh, uhhhh…”

“I like the black,” says Ginny, punctuated by the heavy steel door shutting as she walks back into the room with a placid smile. Shawn can’t help but smile back.

“Let’s go with black,” Shawn murmurs. Tiff offers a conspiratorial wink and goes back to pinning his trousers.

Shawn can feel Ginny’s eyes as she rounds his body, surveying the fit of the tux.

Tiffany’s got him in a deeply blood red Paul Smith tux with slim fitting trousers and, soon, Ginny’s choice of a black silk tie.

“Gin,” Tiff prompts, standing and wincing at her crackling knees, “Did you like the bowtie or the necktie?”

Shawn smirks. Tiffany has dropped the charade of asking him because she knows he’ll just ask Ginny for her opinion. Might as well cut out the middle man.

Ginny wets her lips and cocks her head at his throat, buttoned down under a crisp white shirt.

“Can I see both?”

Tiffany busies herself getting both the ties out. Shawn tugs at his lapels and feels Ginny’s eyes everywhere.

“You look amazing, love,” she assures him, tugging at a wrinkle in his shoulder. He smiles and rocks heel to toe.

“Can you believe I have to wear real shoes and not boots?”

Ginny looks down for confirmation and giggles. “Yeah, but look how shiny them things are! I can see my face.”

He snorts. “You get so much more British when I leave you home for a week.”

She looks up and wrinkles her nose, making her little gold septum ring wiggle. “Cause I don’t have any Commonwealth folk around to bugger up my Queen’s English.”

He rolls his eyes and looks back at himself in Tiffany’s big mirror. He wets his lower lip.

“Have you talked to her at all?” he asks softly, steeling himself.

“Who?” Ginny replies, sounding absent as she inspects the pressing of his trousers.

“The blonde from the bar.”

Ginny’s heart drops out of her body and flops onto his shiny shoes. She blinks rapidly.

“Bianca? N-no. I didn’t even get her number.”

Shawn’s relief is plain on his face. He can feel embarrassed about it later. He locks eyes with Ginny.

“Oh.”

She swallows. “It was just… I dunno. A night.”

Shawn’s lips twitch around words he shouldn’t say. “A good night?”

Too late.

Ginny’s expression doesn’t change. “It was lovely. But… yeah.”

Shawn doesn’t have time to say whatever stupid something was about to roll out of his face next before Tiffany appears with both ties.

He tries on each, or more accurately he lets Tiffany tie them for him, and they all agree the bowtie is more appropriate for the event.

Ginny takes a picture of him beside Tiff to send to Andrew with the caption “Pre spotty boy face!” which makes Shawn elbow her in the side which makes Ginny squeal and threaten to step on his “stupidly shiny shoes.” Tiffany, as referee, ushers Shawn into the changing room to relinquish the suit for final tailoring.

“You two are impossible,” Tiffany huffs with a laugh.

Ginny smiles down at her phone, flipping through her ever-growing inbox. “Don’t I know it.”

+

Unlike many of his industry friends, Shawn loves these kinds of parties. He likes the passed hors d'oeuvres, the expensive champagne, the women in gowns, the men in tuxes. He likes the glittering view of Manhattan out the windows -- they’re so high up in this midtown skyscraper ballroom that he can barely make out the taxis on the gridlocked streets below. He likes the grandness of it, how big and important he feels being passed around from person to Very Important Person.

He likes getting to share it with people, too. He knows some of the guests. He’s said hi to Nick and Demi and The Vamps guys and almost swallowed his tongue when he bumped into Pete Wentz earlier, but he loves living nights like these through his friends’ eyes the most.

Brian is on his right and Andrew is on his left. Geoff is walking around somewhere. Even his whole band is here, chatting it up, rubbing elbows.

So where’s Ginny?

He knew she was planning on coming separately. Tiffany had sent her assistant Erika to help her with her dress. She was supposed to be here half an hour ago. He’s tried texting her. He’s not nervous yet, just antsy.

They make rounds, talking to executives and meeting artists on the Island roster he hasn’t gotten to know yet. The music is predictably great, playing a mix of classics for the older crowd and a blend of hits from the Island family both past and present. He preens for Andrew’s and Brian’s Insta stories when “Lost in Japan” comes on. He grins for boomerangs, tossing back champagne and canapes.

But he wishes she were there. He always wishes she were there. She usually is.

The music changes from The Cranberries to something more familiar. Sweet, ethereal vocals, something close to magic. He smiles and lifts his half-drunk flute of champagne, glancing around again.

He looks up the glossy black staircase to the platform where one of the bars is set up. Beside a crowd of partygoers, beneath the shimmering words of “You’ve Got the Love” by Florence + The Machine, he sees her.

She’s got her wild curls half pinned up, smooth and elegant. She’s draped in black satin that shines proudly under the ballroom’s chandeliers. It’s fitted perfectly to her shape, off the shoulders to display her collarbones and stunning cleavage, hugging close all the way down to a trumpet bottom.

He forgets his sip before he takes it, lowering his glass again. The corner of his mouth lifts. She’s already found him, watching him with a crinkly-eyed smile. He ducks his head shyly, shaking it with a chuckle. He steadies himself and looks back up to see her laughing too.

As the music picks up, Shawn parts through a gap in the crowd and takes the stairs one at a time until he’s standing just below her. From this close, he can smell her coconut oil and see the winged eyeliner that complements her perfect red lips. He takes her hand with a squeeze.

“Wow.”

Her nose twitches. She lets him guide her carefully down the stairs to the amusement and gentle applause of their friends. She laughs and dips into a little curtsey at the bottom of the steps. Shawn lets her go.

“Virginia Dresden, you’re a vision,” Andrew says warmly. She leans up and pecks his cheek in thanks. Each of their many male team members, all of whom have gathered to her like moths to a flame, gush over her appropriately and fawn until more cocktail servers appear with booze and food and they’re distracted again.

Only Shawn remains at her side, smiling like he had something to do with how fucking great she looks.

“You look smug,” she points out.

“Me? Smug?”

“You, smug.”

Shawn exaggerates a disbelieving face because he’s had a little too much champagne for this early in the evening. “Never, Gin. Just proud to be standing next to you is all.”

“Well, by all means, show me off, then.”

Shawn will take that opportunity. Hell yes, he will.

More rounds are made. Andrew appears beside them, and helps to facilitate more official introductions. He and Shawn tag team the “Ginny Dresden Is the Future” campaign, talking about her right beside her like she’s the best thing to happen to artist management this century. She does them proud, she’s no shrinking violet, doling out firm handshakes and engaging in conversation in a way that feels so genuine it’s not schmoozy at all.

Shawn has to actively remind himself she’s not his to be proud of. She’s hers. She’s all Ginny. (But he still feels proud.)

They get separated eventually. Ginny rounds through The Vamps, whom she’s known for a few years, and even gets to chatting with Demi Lovato and her manager. Business cards abound. The night is enjoyable and profitable -- those rarely go hand in hand.

She lets herself sit for awhile because her Jimmy Choos are pinching and the night is running long. She starts to gaze around for her team. Andrew is by the bar with some exec types. The band and Brian have stuck together with The Vamps boys. Geoff is god knows where.

And Shawn…

Ginny feels her brow furrow slightly. She sees him standing a few yards away. His lips are parted. He’s looking over a sea of people. From this angle, Ginny can’t quite tell where, but he looks… entranced.

Her heartbeat picks up curiously, though she reminds herself she doesn’t know what or who he’s looking at.

He starts moving. He’s sliding gracefully through pockets of the rich and famous, single-minded and focused. As he gets further, Ginny’s body edges closer to panic mode, again, she reminds herself, for no reason.

He stops. He bends down slightly, hand outstretched. Ginny sees her hand first. It’s pale and supple with nude, well-kept nails and a simple silver claddagh around the middle finger. He’s looking at the woman who owns it. Ginny’s stomach lurches and she has to cover her mouth because it’s actually, physically dropped open at the look on his face.

She must invite him to join her because he moves to sit and Ginny can finally see her. She’s radiant, glowing pale skin in a white high-necked silk gown studded around the collar with gold accents. Her hair, naturally red, Ginny can tell, is swept half up. She looks as taken with Shawn as he does with her, crossing her legs toward him, leaning onto her elbow to hear him speak.

Ginny doesn’t know how to explain how she knows from ten seconds of watching -- maybe it’s how well she knows him, maybe it’s woman’s intuition, maybe it’s the black magic of a broken heart knowing it’s about to get hurt again. Shawn is not looking to take this woman home tonight. He’s not looking for one night, he’s not looking for a quick and polite goodbye tomorrow morning.

He’s looking at her like he wants to know her middle name, her favorite book, her earliest memory, her scariest nightmare. He’s looking at her for real. He’s looking at her like he wants to see her again.

And she’s looking right back in just the same way.

+

Shawn bounds off the stage, heading straight for her. She braces herself, bending her knees and pressing her short-heeled boots into the floor so she’s ready when he barrels into her, sweeping her up off her feet.

She slings her arms around his shoulders, gripping him hard because he’s slick with sweat. He’s panting in her ear, warm and steady. He doesn’t let her go when they lose the momentum of their spinning bodies. He doesn’t notice the way Andrew taps his shoulder to get him to head toward the dressing room because their bus call is earlier than usual and they don’t have time for this.

Shawn swallows hard and releases a long slow exhale, blowing her curls out of his face. She holds him tighter.

“I love you, Ginny.”

They’re pressed so close he can feel her heart skip a beat. He’s never really felt that before. He thought it was something people make up. When it comes back, it’s pounding harder, thrumming like a hummingbird.

“I love you too, Shawn.”

+

Her name is Sara. She’s 27, from Queens originally, and works in the marketing department at Island. She wants to be an executive someday and call some shots. She’s wearing a Badgley Mischka gown from Rent the Runway and she tugs at the straps and giggles when he asks her slightly more personal questions and it makes him giggle too.

She’s beautiful and she’s sweet and she likes his music and wants to take him out to breakfast at some secret place she knows tomorrow morning.

And it’s so, so easy.

Please support my whole wheat almond croissant habit and buy me a Ko-fi (link on main page)!

Taglist: @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @mendesoft @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @grittyisathot @sinplisticshawn @rollingxstone @yslsaint @randi-eve @sauveteen

[written-rebellion]

Perfect Distractions

A/N: whooo I’m late posting by nearly an hour. I had my university grad party tonight and everyone JUST left so I’m posting this before I pass out LOL

I had this particular chapter planned out the minute I wrote Jamie and Claire arriving at Lallybroch for the first time, so this one’s a particular fave of mine. Hope you like it! <3

School’s starting up again, Jamie’s being verra dramatic about it, and as always, all the facts of this fanfic are contrived specifically to make fluffy university/modern-day au scenarios. Please let me know what you think!

Part One: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] | Part Two: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Three: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Four: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Five: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Six: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Seven: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Eight: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Nine: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3]

Part Nine: Empty | Chapter 4  

It was funny how quickly the body got used to things.

Two weeks ago, he woke up naked, pressed against Claire’s equally naked back, and very nearly shat himself.

Now he woke up next to Claire and very nearly shat himself, but she at least had a nightgown on.

Usually.

Slowly, he tightened his arms around her waist, pressing his chest into her back as she fluttered awake.

“Hmm?”

He rubbed his cheek into her shoulder blade, memorizing the feel of her soft skin against his early morning stubble and that perfect mingling of scents: Lallybroch and Claire, home by every definition.

“I can feel you frowning,��� she said, trying to turn around in his arms. He held her where she was, hiding his face in her neck instead.

“When we get back to campus, mo chridhe,” he mumbled into her skin, “I willna be able to hold ye like this.”

“What?”

He let her snap around, making no attempt now to hide the lines of bleak acceptance on his face.

“What are you talking about?” Her hand reached across to cup his cheek and he closed his eyes, smiling faintly at her touch.

“As I recall—” He fought against the downward tug at the corners of his mouth, but lost as she withdrew her hand. “—ye have quite the nosey dorm-mate.”

“…and you have a roommate.” Realization flooded her glass face and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Aye,” he said, squeezing her waist.

“Well—we managed before, didn’t we?” she offered, but Jamie scoffed.

“If ye think I can go back to how it was before, mo nighean donn—” He pressed their bodies not-so-subtly together. “—then ye must really not know me at all.”

Now she was chuckling softly, running a feather light hand through his hair, tracing the shell of his ear. He wanted to melt into the mattress and pull her with him, trap them both in this moment with fingers entwined and soft morning smiles frozen in time.

“We’ll figure something out,” she sighed, tucking her head under his chin and slowly wrapping her own hands around him as if drawn by the same supposed finality curdling in his wame.

“Aye, lass.” He kissed the crown of her head, then snuggled his cheek into her hair. “We will.”

Tomorrow they’d pack up their bags. Make the bed, ruin it, and make it up again. Kiss Jenny on the cheek, wee Jamie on the head, embrace Ian and Murtagh, and ruffle up Fergus’ hair.

Tomorrow they’d leave Lallybroch, arrive at school by evening time, and head back to textbooks and roommates and classes the next morning.

Today though, for possibly but hopefully not the last time in a long while, they held each other and let the world turn without them.

---

Like winter had frozen everything in place, Claire found the front yard of her dormitory unchanged, save for the flood of memories that accompanied the last time she was here.

She turned around, running right into Jamie’s chest with a laugh as she wrapped her arms around his waist and smiled up at him.

His eyes were distant, the deep blue lacking that trademark glint. He’d been just a touch melancholic since yesterday morning. Hell, so had she. Lallybroch, as promised, had quickly become a home for her heart, if only because it was an extension of Jamie. Unconsciously, she rubbed her cheek against the soft tartan scarf Jenny and Ian had given her for Christmas.

Jamie, belatedly, wrapped his own arms around her and chuckled.

“Aye, I remember, mo graidgh,” he said, kissing her forehead. “I love ye too.”

“Well,” she said after a time, “here we are.”

“Aye.” Defeated.

She frowned too now, snuggling her head into the curve of his neck. Jamie hugged her tightly to him for a moment, and then pulled back with a sharp inhale.

“I’ll buy ye breakfast in the morning, mo chridhe,” he said. “And ye dinna even have to run for it.”

“Ha bloody ha.” She looked up and, for once, found no brilliant Fraser grin reflected back at her as their lips pressed together.

“Good night, Jamie.”

“Aye, good night mo nighean donn.” He tucked a curl behind her ear, then took her hand in his and pressed his lips to her knuckles.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, heart quietly shattering when he stood upright and smiled softly at her.

“Sweet dreams, Sassenach…” he said before finally turning to take his leave.

Claire watched him go, willing the winter wind to freeze the whole yard and shelter them from the flow of time.

Five hours later, however, she was glaring at her ceiling, wanting nothing more than sweet dreams. Or any dreams, really.

Or just sleep in general.

“Really, Beauchamp,” she grumbled aloud. “You’re acting like a child without her blanket.”

How many nights in twenty-some years had she slept blissfully alone? How could one two-week reprieve systematically destroy two decades worth of easy dreams, let alone the very real exhaustion pulsing in her bones?

She pulled her blankets up to her nose and tried – for the ninth bloody time – to snuggle into her lumpy mattress. But as she turned her head and tried to force herself to sleep through sheer will alone, she couldn’t help but feel like her pillow was suddenly too large.

Like it was meant to be accommodating more than just her, no matter how wild her curls got.

Like it was somehow emptier.

There was a faint whistling noise coming from the window, letting in the smallest of drafts, and that was just enough to pin all of her frustration on.

“Fucking dorm windows. What is all my bloody tuition going to anyway?”

She sat up to direct her anger at the offending glass and frame, but instead felt her heart stutter.

It wasn’t open.

There really was a crack.

She could almost hear him yelling for her, just like he had two weeks ago before—

Before everything.

She shook her head, reaching for her phone and letting out an ungodly groan as she read the time.

2:54 a.m.

Jesus H. Roosevelt Chr—

Her phone pinged, a message notification suddenly blurring the photo of Jamie asleep on her shoulder from the train.

>          What the hell was that? Ye’re not having fun in there without me, are ye?

Claire’s brows drew together.

>          What are you talking about?

>          That was YOU who groaned just now, no? Or have I got the wrong room?

>          What???

>          Could ye come to the door, mnd? I dinna want to be standing out here all night.

She sprung from her blankets and rushed over. There, taking up all the space in her doorway, was her 6-foot Scot standing nonchalantly in the hall.

“What are y—?!”

He pressed a finger to his lips, holding his phone up in the other hand and nodding to her.

She nodded back dumbly, about to type what she was saying when—

>          Can I come in?

She grabbed his sleeve and yanked him into the room, poking her head into the hallway to make sure no one was lurking around.

Satisfied, she closed the door and turned back around to face him.

And was immediately crushed to his chest in a tight hug. A sigh shuddered out of both of them.

“How pathetic are we, lass?” he said in a half-laugh.

“Couldn’t even last a night without me, huh?”

He pulled back to cast an eye down at her.

“Oh, like ye werena just looking at yer phone at 3 a.m. before I texted ye.”

She kissed him to shut him up and was rewarded with that brilliant patented Fraser grin that made her body feel so full of air, she physically rose to her tiptoes as if she would drift up to the ceiling.

“I tried, aye? But the bed felt… wrong. I went for a walk so I wouldna bother John, then I—I sort of…”

“Ended up here?”

“Found myself walking home, mo graidgh.”

She was at once thankful for the darkness in the room hiding the touch of pink on her cheeks. Just in case though, she buried her face into his chest, taking in his scent like it hadn’t only been mere hours since they last saw each other.

“Let’s go to bed, Jamie,” she mumbled into his shirt.

“To bed?” he asked, punctuating the question with a slow kiss that had Claire’s bare toes curling under her. “Or to sleep, mo chridhe?”

She hummed, but pressed her palms into his chest.

“My 11 a.m. tutorial says to sleep.”

“Verra well, a nighean.” He laughed, kissing her crown as he stepped out of her arms and plopped onto the bed.

She watched him settle himself into the pillows, filling the empty bed space as he patted and squirmed around in the mattress like a dog assessing its new bed. She was giggling the whole time.

By the time he was finished, his back was pressed against the wall, the blankets barely covering him, and his feet just poking out off the mattress.

“Are ye laughing at me?”

“Obviously.”

He made a derisive Scottish noise that completely contradicted the smile on his face.

“Come to bed, mo graidgh,” he said, stretching his arm out to her. “There’s a draft from the window, I’ll warm ye.”

“That’s from the crack you made,” she said in a yawn, practically floating towards the bed.

It took three seconds to slide in and mould her body to his.

Two seconds to kiss him goodnight properly, and snuggle her head into his neck.

One second to fall fully and deeply asleep and in love in his arms.

[End of Part Nine]

Read Part 10

[hazinhoodies]

October part 11

A/N: This is nearly it guys. This will be one of the last parts of october. Most likely second last (excluding an epilogue if i do one)

Warnings: emotions?

Word count: 2.3k (holy fuck longest thing ive ever written)

The rest of the summer went by much faster than anyone would have liked. Emma, Harrison, Sam, Tom, Z. None of them wanted Emma to leave. Tom had even tried convincing her to come to Croatia with them.

20 days

“Tom you know I can’t” Emma laughed. Tom was relentless.

“But you totally could! Just don’t go back. You can come on the private jet with me, Haz, Sam and Harry!” Tom followed Emma as they walked to her trailer.

“And then what about my studies?” Emma stopped, looking at tom with her eyebrows raised, a playful smile on her lips

“Your studies? Pshh, who needs school?” Emma let out a loud laugh

“I do! Tom I adore you and everyone on set but I need to finish school. I really wish I could stay” Emma smiled at Tom. He pulled her into a hug, his arms wrapped tight around her torso

“Nope. You’re staying. Not letting you leave.”

Her and Tony had figured things out. Kinda?

16 days

“Okay so that’s all for today. Thanks Tony” Emma started to pack up her laptop.

“Hey Em. I really wanted to apologize” Tony’s voice grabbed her attention. “I used you. And that wasn’t cool. It was a stupid reason and I’m really sorry about it” He sounded so sincere.

“Its fine. It happened. Just” Emma sighed “For future reference, don’t fuck girls to get back at someone for a bet. It’s a stupid reason” Tony looked up from his hands to see a small smile tugging at her lips.

“So.. were cool?”

“Well. Not exactly. I’m still upset with you. I’m not gonna be a total dick about it though”

“I can respect that” Tony laughed “Thanks Em.” Emma nodded as she stepped out of the trailer.

Or the first time Emma had gone over to the boys’ suite

11 days

The five of them stepped out of the elevator. Harry first, then Tom, Sam, Emma and Harrison. Harry had been roasting Tom since they got out of the car, Tom hadn’t been so pleased with t but the rest of the group were red-faced from laughter. Iris had slowly driven Emma less and less, Harrison usually ended up taking her out and then back to her hotel. They’d done all the touristy stuff that Emma had never done, and Harrison was fully aware was over priced and over hyped, but he took her anyways.

Harrisons arm was wrapped gently around Emma’s shoulders as they exited the elevator, the group gathered around the kitchen island as they continued to talk, Harrison standing behind Emma, both his arms wrapped around her waist, on of her hands rested on top of his. They stayed there for about half an hour, just talking. Harrison placed a quick kiss to Emma’s cheek and placed his head on her shoulder.

“Wanna go watch a movie or something?” Harrison whispered. Emma turned her head slightly to look at him.

“Yeah sure” Harrison stood up, lifting his head off her shoulder as he took her hand in his and they headed up the stairs. Of course not without some comments from Tom or Harry.

“Hey don’t be too loud guys” Harry laughed as tom just whistled.

Emma felt her cheeks go bright red as they entered Harrisons room. He turned around placing both his hands on her hips.

“Hey Em” she looked up at him and he moved his hands to her jaw “Just ignore them. They’re being divs” Emma nodded and he placed a kiss on her forehead. Emma sat on the bed and looked at her phone for a moment until her vision was blocked by a sweater Harrison had thrown at her.

“Figure that might be comfier” Emma pulled the sweater off her head, a wide smile on her lips as she stood.

“Wanna see me in your clothes Osterfield?” Emma took off her jacket, tossing it on the ground nearby.

“Maybe” Harrison shrugged.

“Well you gotta turn around” Emma’s fingers fiddled with the bottom of her shirt.

“Not like it’s anything I haven’t seen before” Harrison turned around as he spoke

“That’s different.” Emma pulled off her shirt and put her arms through the sweater sleeves. “I was posing for those. And I was prepared for them. And they were taken in an actual studio. You’re a model, you should understand” Emma pulled the sweater over her head “You’re good now” Emma sat on the bed.

“No trust me I get it darling” Harrison sat down on the bed next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “Brooklyn nine-nine?” He looked at her as he spoke.

“Not a movie” Emma looked up at him. Harrison kissed her gently.

“I did say a movie or something. And it’s something.” TheI lips brushed together.

“Well in that case” Harrison pressed play as Emma tried to get closer to him, the space between them had already been non-existent.

It’d been around an hour since Emma and Harrison had gone upstairs. Sam had finished cooking and had texted both of them telling them to come down, only to receive no response. He had even called Harrison at one point, still no answer.

“Do you think I should go upstairs and get them?” Sam refreshed his notifications.

“You might be walking into something you don’t want to see but if you want” Harry spoke from the couch. “I’m hungry dude. Can’t we just eat without them?” Sam glared at Harry. He always tried to keep some aspect of them being a family while they were on our. Usually they ate together.

“I’m going to get them” Sam headed towards the stairs. He stopped in front of the door and listened for a moment, only to be met with a very awkward sounding rendition of ‘I want it that way’. He knocked gently. No response. A little louder, still nothing. He gently opened the door and peeked his head in.

Emma and Harrison were both fast asleep. Emma’s leg was over both of Harrisons, her hand placed on his stomach underneath his shirt, pushing it up slightly. Harrisons arms were wrapped around her, holding her close, his head rested on top on hers.

Sam stood there for a moment before shutting the door as quietly as possible and making his way down the stairs.

“We’re eating without them. Grab a plate”

Or when Harrison had finally asked her to be his girlfriend, properly.

7 days

Harrison and Emma sat in her trailer. She had one earbud in as she continued on her piece, which was now nearing four minutes in length. She held Harrisons hand and fiddled with his rings as she listened back to it. Harrison caught himself admiring her again. She bit her lip gently, focused on her work in front of her, her expressions changing slightly as she reacted to her own work.

He squeezed her hand gently, getting her attention. “Hey Em?”

“Yeah?” She paused the music and pulled out the earbud, her attention now solely on him. Harrison had no idea what to say from here. His jaw was slack and he stuttered out small syllables, but couldn’t form his thoughts enough to speak.

“You alright?” Emma squeezed his hand reassuringly. Harrison nodded.

“I just” He wet his lips “I want this to be real. Not that it isn’t real right now. I don’t know I guess. I just want-”

“You want it to be official?” Emma cut him off, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Yeah. Title and all. I want to be official. Maybe not public because fans can be insane sometimes but, official” His heart pounded against his sternum.

“Harrison.” Emma sighed. “You know I leave in a week right? I go back to Canada, and back to school” she trailed off, her eyes were sad but her grip on his hand tightened.

“I know. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said anything” Harrison looked down into his lap, attempting to pull his hand away, only to have it held tighter.

“That being said. I’m willing to do the distance if you are?” Emma smiled sheepishly. A grin spread across Harrisons features as he crashed his lips into hers.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” Emma laughed as they pulled apart.

“A million times”

Then there was all the moments on set. Stolen kisses between her and Harrison, everytime he hugged her from behind as they watched the scene, or every time she somehow ended up wearing his jacket, certainly much too large for her.

Here they were now. The three Holland boys, plus Haz, Emma, Michael and Iris all at the airport. Emma had gone with Michael and Iris. She had already said goodbye to everyone once, but Tom wasn’t about to not see her off at the airport.

“It was wonderful working with you this summer Emma. I hope we cross paths again one day. I can’t wait to see what the future holds for you, because from what i’ve seen you create, I know it’ll be amazing” Michael pulled Emma into a side hug. “If you ever want some feedback, you can send me whatever you’re working on. Or if you ever want something published, that also applies”

“Thank you Michael. I appreciate it a lot. It’s been an amazing summer” Emma looked towards Iris. “And thank you for putting up with me this summer”

“You were a handful, that’s for sure” Iris replied. Emma had never heard her talk sarcastically, but she did this time. A smile crossed Iris’ lips “I’ll miss you though kiddo” She took Emma’s hand in hers, squeezing it gently.

“We’ll leave you guys be. Stay safe Emma.” Michael spoke. Emma nodded in response as they turned, walking towards the exit of the airport. Emma turned towards the four boys sighing as tears already filled her eyes.

The four boys all hugged her at once. All of them muttering something along the lines of ‘Don’t cry’. Emma laughed quietly. A hand ran up and down her back, she didn't know whose. Tom? Maybe?

“You guys really didn’t have to come” Emma pulled out of the hug

“Yes we did” Sam articulated “You’re our friend we’re not going to go without saying goodbye”

“Well I did already say goodbye to all of you on set”

“Doesn’t count” Tom shakes his head “Its not real until it’s last minute”

Emma laughed as she wiped a tear off her cheek, shoving her hands back into her sweatpants pockets.

Harry opened his arms for Emma. He pulled her into a tight hug “I’m gonna miss you Emma”

“I’ll miss you too Harry. You and your stupid bandanas” Emma pulled away, chuckling at Harrys reaction. He started to speak only to be cut off by the intercom informing them she had 20 minutes until boarding.

“Looks like we better speed this process up a little bit” Tom stepped towards Emma, pulling her into his arms.

“It’s fine. They call first class first anyways so we should be fine” Emma felt Tom laugh

“Check your ticket again” Emma pulled away and looked at her ticket, glaring back up at Tom.

“I would’ve been fine in business class Tom” She crossed her arms

“Hey. Consider it a goodbye present. For my favourite intern on set. I’m gonna miss you Em” He rubbed her shoulders.

“I wasn’t an intern. I got payed. But I’ll miss you too Tom” She looked towards Sam and smiled, stepping towards him. Harrison still had yet to say anything besides ‘hello’ when they’d shown up.

“You can’t leave me alone with these divs Em” Sam chuckled as Emma hugged him “You’re abandoning me and that’s not nice”

“I promise you. You’re stuck with me now whether you like it or not”

“Oh great” Sam pulled away. “Stay in touch yeah? I’m gonna miss you too much”

Emma nodded, sniffling back her tears. Tom spoke up.

“Let’s walk back to the car. Haz you know where we parked?” Tom looked towards Harrison. He had tears in his eyes and his cheeks and ears were red, he nodded “Yeah. I’ll text if I can’t find you guys” Harrison spoke quietly, not fully trusting his voice

The brothers headed towards the exit, leaving Harrison and Emma alone, other than the busy airport around them. They couldn’t care less about that right now though. Harrison immediately wrapped one arm around Emma’s waist and the other around her shoulders, pulling her to his chest. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes.

“I don’t wanna go. I want to stay on set. And go to Croatia” Her words were muffled by his chest. “I want to stay here with you, Haz”

“I know I wish you could stay too but you have to go Em. You have school. I’m always only a text or a phone call away.” A tear fell from his eye and he wiped it away quickly. He pulled away from the hug reluctantly, still keeping her close.

“You promise?” Emma wiped her eyes, trying to stop the tears. Harrison smiled sadly.

“I promise” He leaned down to press their lips together. The kiss was filled with passion and longing. Neither of them knowing when the next time they’re going to see each other. Hopefully soon. But neither can be sure.

The intercom called for her to board as they pulled away from each other. Emma muttered a sarcastic ‘fucking great’ under her breath.

“Text me when you land okay, love?” Harrison rested his forehead against hers as she nodded. Emma pressed her lips together, more tears on the verge of falling. She was almost certainly going to cry on the plane. “Thank you” Harrison whispered, kissing her softly one final time before they separated. Harrison watched as she boarded the plane, she turned around and waved right before she was out of sight. He stood there for a moment more before heading towards the exit.

She finally let the tears fall when she was seated on the plane, Harrison did as well once in the back of the car. All four boys evidently sad, but Harrison certainly the most.

Taglist: @rainbow-marvel @pumpkinravingparker @notimeforthemessenger @ap93mcu 

Blogs i admire who let me tag them: @avastarrrs @starksparker @starksmile @h-osterfield @marvelellie @hollandroos @upsidedownparker

[god--baby]

jealousy ch 2: Alex (nsfw)

patrick hockstetter x henry bowers

part one

previously on: after Patrick almost fucks a girl at a party, he and Henry fuck around. 

summary: Henry has a conversation with his pigs. then, he calls up a girl he once fucked and asks her to a bonfire. they go, they fuck, and then Henry drives everyone home. 

word count: 3942

tag list: @heckstetter @tonguepopperr @bitchy-bowers @frostwolfie2936 @daddywise-issues

The next day, Henry spent the entire day at home alone. Well, as alone as he could be with Butch there half the time.

But he didn’t want to hang out with the guys. He didn’t want to see Patrick.

He hadn’t gotten lucky. He hadn’t blacked out and forgotten it.

Sometimes, when he wasn’t forcing himself not to think about it, he could still feel the weight of Patrick’s dick in his mouth. And that was not something he wanted to remember.

Butch left for a late shift after dinner, and Henry went out to the pigpen to see Bip and Bop. He brought his cigarettes and a lighter, and sat on the fence, looking down at his pets, chain smoking.

He got about three cigarettes in before he remembered the last time he’d chain smoked, just last night, after… whatever it was he did with Patrick.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know what he did — he remembered it like it was still happening. It was that he didn’t know what to call it. Did they fuck? Just plain fuck around? Did it matter? Could he convince Patrick to forget about it?

It did matter. And no, if he knew Patrick only half as well as he knew him, Patrick wouldn’t let go. He’d gotten a chance to sink his teeth in, and now he wasn’t going to let go.

Henry put his cigarette out and tucked the butt back into the pack so neither Bip nor Bop could get a hold of it. Bip snuffled at where his boot was propped up on part of the fence, and Bop laid down.

“I did something stupid, you guys,” he said to them. “Real fucking stupid.”

Bip snorted.

“Hey, shut up,” Henry said, then he felt silly. It had been a long time since he had a conversation with his pigs, but he needed them right now. “I don’t always do stupid shit, just sometimes.”

Bop turned his head to better look at Henry, and Henry imagined him looking at him with something like pity.

“I — I fucked around with Patrick. I sucked his dick,” he said, voice hushed.

Neither Bip nor Bop did anything for a long moment. Then, Bop stood up and started snuffling at Henry’s other boot. He felt like he had both their attentions, now.

“I didn’t really want to. ‘Cept maybe I did? I don’t do shit I don’t wanna do, and I did that.” He paused, swallowing hard, whispering, “I can still taste him.”

Bip let out a grunt and Bop mimicked him. Henry smiled.

“It wasn’t so bad, I guess. I wish — I wish it hadn’t happened. But it wasn’t so bad. He sure can suck a dick, I’ll tell you that. Fucking fag. Does it all the time. You know he tells me that shit?”

Bop grunted again.

“I know. I know a lot more about a lotta guys than I wanna know, ‘cause of Patrick. But that’s just Pat, I guess.”

Bip nudged his foot. Henry reached into the bag hanging off the fence beside him and drew out a handful of plain popcorn, holding it out for Bip to munch on. He smiled as they both snuffled at his hand, going at it like there was nothing they’d rather do.

“I don’t know what to do, now, though,” he said. “I don’t know what to do.”

They chewed, looking up at him.

“I don’t know, guys. Like, do I ignore him? What if he wants to do it again? Do I… do I go along with it? And does… does it make me gay to do this shit?”

They continued chewing.

Henry sighed. “You guys don’t even know what gay is. You’re just pigs. Unless… you could be gay pigs, I guess… we never did get you guys a lady friend. Just didn’t want to deal with piglets, you know. Hell, maybe you guys are gay, and I just don’t know ‘cause I don’t speak pig.”

Bip bumped Bop with his shoulder, closing his eyes for a second.

“Huh. Well, thanks for listening. I’m gonna go get drunk.”

He reached down and gave them another handful of popcorn before he hopped off the fence and walked back into the house.

He did get drunk, on a bottle of cheap whiskey he’d been hiding under his bed for a rainy day. The storm was all inside his head, but the whiskey… well, it helped. A little. Made some parts of it louder, but at least the taste of the alcohol was heavier than the memory of Patrick’s dick.

He jerked off that night, trying to think about the last real tail he got, some snarky girl from Etna, but that quickly turned into Patrick. It wasn’t his fault — the girl kinda looked like him. Shortish dark hair and eyes that take no shit without laughing in its face. And that smile — kinda scary, like she was begging the world to try something so she could fuck it up.

That’s who he should have been fucking around with. Not Patrick.

Sure, she looked like him. But she wasn’t him.

At least she was a girl.

The next morning, he dug around for her number, trying to remember her name. He found it, written in red permanent marker on a napkin, under her name.

Alex.

Alex. Nice.

He called.

“Gray residence,” said a tired-sounding lady. “Who is this?”

“Uh, my name’s Henry, ma’am. I’m calling for Alex?”

“Huh. Alex!” she shouted, pulling the phone away from her mouth.

“What?” came a voice that sounded far away.

“Some boy’s on the line for you,” said Mrs. Gray.

“Fine,” huffed who he assumed was Alex. The phone got shuffled around. Then: “Hey, Tony.”

“Who the hell,” he said, “is Tony?”

“Sorry, who’s this?”

“Henry Bowers,” he said.

“Who?”

“We met at a party. I’m from Derry. Bet you a dollar you couldn’t shotgun a beer in four seconds. You won.”

“Oh,” she said, and he could hear her smiling. “That’s your name. I had forgotten.”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling too, though he was a little taken aback that she’d forgotten his name. Even though he had forgotten hers, too.

“So, what’s up?” she asked. She was chewing gum. He could hear it popping.

“There’s this bonfire tonight. Wanna go?”

“What kinda bonfire?”

“The drinking kind.”

“Sounds good.”

“Should I swing by with the guys, or?”

“No, I gotta car. No sweat, just tell me where it is and I’ll show.”

He told her, and they talked for another minute before saying goodbye.

Good. So he had a little bit of ass lined up for the night. Hopefully her pussy would take his mind off Patrick’s dick. Hopefully.

He finished his chores and took a shower, making faces in the mirror while he dried his hair off. It was always so fucking fluffy and everywhere when it was wet.

When the guys showed up, he walked out to the car, pointing from the front seat to the back so Vic would get the message and move.

“Hey, Henry,” Patrick practically sang.

Henry grunted but didn’t say anything.

“How was yesterday?” Patrick asked. “We missed you.”

Henry snorted and got in the front. “It was fine,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I called up that chick who knows how to shotgun a beer — Belch, you remember, tight little piece of ass with black hair? Anyway, I invited her out to the fire.”

Belch grinned, his eyes crinkling.

“Jesus,” said Vic. “How long’s it been since you got laid?”

Henry made the great mistake of looking over his shoulder at the back seat and got an eyeful of Patrick’s wicked smile. He looked away from him to Vic, grinning.

“A week,” he said. “Fucking long week. What about you, princess?”

Vic winked.

“What was his name again? The guy whose dick you sucked at the party?” Patrick asked.

Henry wasn’t dumb. He knew exactly who those questions were directed at, and it wasn’t Vic.

“James,” Vic said. “More of a grower than a shower.”

Belch and Henry groaned, Henry reaching back to swat at Vic’s knee.

“We don’t need to know that shit, Vicky,” Henry said.

“Yeah, yeah. Here’s a question — how come you guys can talk about dripping wet pussy but I can’t talk about the size of a guy’s dick?”

“You can talk about pussy, too, Vic,” said Patrick, chewing on one of his fingertips. “You just gotta get some first.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Vic shot back. “Besides, if I wanted pussy right now, I could get it. I’m just having so much fun with guys who are discovering dick for the first time.”

Henry felt his ears heat up.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay, I’m done with this.”

And then he reached over and turned the music up to blaring.

They arrived at the bonfire half an hour later, piling out of the car and lighting up cigarettes. Everyone except Belch smoked at parties — well, kinda. He preferred weed to smokes, and right now he was wondering out loud if there would be someone willing to share.

There always was. No one said no to them.

He and Vic wandered off into the crowd, joking and pushing each other every few steps. Suddenly, Henry was very alone with Patrick, something he didn’t want to be, not even in the slightest.

“Henry,” Patrick said in that sing-song way he had. He walked around so that he was in front of Henry, and Henry pushed his back up against the Trans Am, blocked in as Patrick put his hands on either side of Henry’s shoulders.

“What do you want, Hockstetter?” Henry snapped, looking away from him.

“How ‘bout a repeat performance before that sweet little girl shows up, hm?” Patrick asked. “What, did you think I’d just forget about that?”

“I fucking know you,” Henry said. Reminding him, not that he really needed to. Patrick knew. Patrick wasn’t dumb.

“Yeah, you do,” Patrick said.

Then he reached in and dragged one of his thumbs down Henry’s bottom lip, pulling it down.

“I’m not just gonna let go of that pretty little mouth, baby,” he said.

“Too fucking bad,” Henry barked as a car pulled up next to them. He pushed Patrick away as hard as he could, making him stumble away, grinning. “I said it was a one-time thing. I meant it.”

Out of the car climbed Alex, her hair a little more neat than Henry remembered, her skirt as daringly short as last time, her boots as tall. God. He’d only seen her once before, but she was a damn sight for sore eyes.

“Henry,” she said, grinning up at him.

“Alex,” he said.

“Who’s your friend?” she asked, eyes skipping over to Patrick for just the shortest moment, nothing more than a heartbeat.

“That’s Patrick. He’s an asshole.”

“Oh, I didn’t know he was your best friend,” she said, laughing.

In spite of himself, he laughed, too.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get you a drink,” he said, putting an arm around her and guiding her away from the cars, closer to the fire and the small grouping crowds of people. He heard Patrick suck his teeth.

Half an hour later, and Alex was gloriously drunk, swaying in Henry’s arms. She was short enough that he could put his chin on top of her head, and he did, holding her.

She turned in his arms.

“Guess what?” she asked.

“Mm. What?”

“Something new,” she said.

Then she stuck her tongue out. There was a bar through it, two balls on either end.

“Well, fuck,” he said.

“Isn’t that just the prettiest thing you ever saw?” she asked.

“Sure, baby. Wonder how it’d feel on my dick.”

She grinned and played with her tongue ring, making it scrape along her bottom teeth.

“You don’t even have to wait to find out,” she said.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. C’mon.”

She took him by the hand and pulled him away from the fire, out into the darkness by the cars. She found hers and pushed him up against it, pulling him down for a hard kiss. He was surprised that the tongue ring didn’t really feel like anything while kissing. Just something a little bit extra.

He slipped a hand down to her ass and grabbed it, pushing her skirt up so he could really get at her. She was probably wearing a thong, because there was more skin than fabric under his hand.

She got to her knees, undoing his pants and pulling out his dick before he could really think about it. Then — she licked a thick stripe up the shaft, and he closed his eyes, sighing, as the ball of her tongue ring slid over him.

“You like that, babe?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. A little shot. A little breathless.

She giggled and went right back at it, taking him into her mouth, licking at the slit, swirling her tongue and that little ball around the head before taking him further into her mouth. Into her throat, making her choke just a little bit.

He swallowed, suddenly remembering Patrick. How he didn’t choke. Not even a little bit.

He shook his head, then looked down at her. Her eyes were closed. Good.

He put a hand in her hair, gently pulling her on and off him. Then, he pulled her fully off. She pouted up at him.

“What?” she asked. “Do you not like it?”

He pulled her up by her hair and she let out a little whine, scrambling to her feet.

“Love it,” he said. “But I’m gonna fuck you now, okay, baby?”

He shouldn’t have said that. He should have just called her by her name.

When he heard baby, in his head echoed Patrick’s voice.

He pulled her in for a kiss, then turned them around until her back was pressed to the car. Still kissing her, he reached up under her skirt and pulled her panties down. She stepped out of them and bent down to pick them up. Then, she tucked them into his back pocket.

“For safe keeping,” she said.

“Mm.”

He pulled a condom out of his front pocket and rolled it on as she hitched her skirt up. He swiped two fingers over her cunt, then pushed in. She sighed, eyes fluttering closed. She slipped one leg up around his waist, and he pulled the other one up to match it, letting the car hold her up, fucking into her.

In a few minutes, he was coming. He pulled out of her and took the condom off, tying it before throwing it out further into the darkness. Then, he got to his knees and started eating her out, pushing his tongue into her, licking at her clit, pushing two fingers in and curling them up, pumping hard and fast.

It didn’t take her long to come, and when she did, she sunk to her knees in front of him with a whine, pulling his fingers into her mouth.

“Fuck, baby,” she said. “Holy fuck.”

He huffed out a laugh.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said, putting her forehead on his shoulder. “Gimme a minute.”

He grinned.

“Okay,” he said, putting a hand in her hair.

Finally, she took a big breath and kissed him, just a little soft thing. He kissed her back, a little more insistent, and she sighed.

She stood up, dusting dead grass off her knees, and pulled him to his feet. He tucked himself back into his pants. She started to walk away, and he caught her by the shoulder.

“Your panties,” he said.

“Keep ‘em,” she laughed. “You earned ‘em.”

He grinned.

“Okay.”

“Fuck, I gotta sober up,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I gotta — I gotta go home. Eventually.”

“Well, okay,” he said, taking her by the hand and pulling her toward the fire. “Let’s get you some water.”

An hour later, with Alex gone, he was ready to leave. He wandered around, looking for the guys. He found Vic and Belch sitting with a group of stoners, some baby-faced boy in Vic’s lap, all of them absolutely high.

“Jesus,” he said. “You guys are gone, aren’t you?”

The girl sitting next to Belch laughed, high-pitched and kinda annoying, putting her hand on Belch’s knee.

“Yeah,” Belch said slowly. “How was… what was her name?”

“Alex?”

“Hey, that’s my name,” said the boy on Vic’s lap.

Henry rolled his eyes.

“I’m gonna be honest, babe,” said Vic to the boy. “I had forgotten your name.”

“That’s okay,” the boy said, Alex said, pressing a kiss to Vic’s forehead. “You can call me whatever you want.”

“Alex was good,” Henry said, over the chuckles and giggles the whole group let out. “But I’m ready to go. Want me to drive?”

“Fuck, yeah, you better,” Belch said, standing.

The girl beside him started pouting, and he ran a hand over her hair, making her brighten up.

“Vic,” Henry barked. “C’mon.”

It was Vic’s turn to pout. But still, he pushed the boy Alex off his lap and stood.

“Where’s Hockstetter?” Henry asked.

“Looking for you,” Belch said slowly.

“Great,” Henry said.

All three of them started walking around, looking for Patrick. Patrick, who seemed to not want to be found. Finally, they gave up and walked out towards the Trans Am, lighting up cigarettes as they went. When they got there, the car was gently rocking.

“Found him,” Vic said, chuckling.

“Yay,” Henry snarked.

Just what he needed. To sit around waiting while Patrick got laid not two feet away from him.

They all heard a girl’s loud moan, and then the car stopped moving.

In a minute, both Patrick and the as yet nameless girl scrambled out of the car. The girl seemed exhausted. Patrick, of course, was grinning.

The girl was blonde. Her hair, short and scruffy. She wore a short dress that she pulled down in front, Patrick’s hand on her ass in the back. Her nose was familiar for a moment, and then it hit close to home.

Somehow, Patrick found the one girl who looked just like Henry.

Just like Henry’d fucked a girl who looked just like him.

“Get your hand off my ass and introduce me to your friends,” the girl said to Patrick.

Patrick kept his hand on her ass as he said, “guys, this is Hailey. Hailey, these are the guys.”

Not a proper introduction. She must not be sticking around.

“Now, go,” Patrick said. “They want to leave, and I’m going with them.”

She huffed, and left, giving Patrick a tight smile over her shoulder. He gave her a short wave, waiting until she looked away to roll his eyes.

“Now, that,” he said, “is a one-time thing.”

Henry knew exactly what that meant. It was for him. Because of course it was.

“What, no good?” Belch asked.

“Oh, she was fine,” Patrick said, making a dismissive hand gesture. “But not good enough to keep around.”

“Mm,” said Vic. “That’s a shame. She’s cute.”

Henry rolled his eyes.

“Let’s go. I’m driving,” he said.

“What?” Patrick asked.

“Belch and Vic got too high. I’m driving,” Henry said.

They all piled into the car, Belch and Vic sitting in the back. Much as it made Henry’s stomach tight to have Patrick up front with him, he couldn’t say anything about it.

Ten minutes into the drive home, and Belch and Vic were both asleep.

“Aw, look at that,” Patrick said, grinning. “The kids are all tuckered out.”

Henry snorted but didn’t say anything.

Then, Patrick put his hand on Henry’s knee. Henry pushed it off, and Patrick just did it again. Sighing, Henry let him. He was tired, didn’t feel like fighting every little thing.

“You know,” Patrick said, rubbing a little circle over Henry’s thigh with his thumb, “I could suck your dick right now, and they’d never know.”

“Patrick,” Henry hissed. “No.”

Patrick leaned in and nipped at Henry’s earlobe, then whispered in his ear.

“Fucking some little girl who looks just like me. Like I wouldn’t notice.”

“I didn’t fuck her ‘cause she looks like you, asshole. I fucked her ‘cause I like her. She’s cool.”

“Mm hm. Doesn’t take away the fact that she looks just like me.”

Henrys sighed and took a hand off the wheel to push Patrick away.

“What about Hailey or whatever her name was?” Henry spat. “What about her, huh? Talk about someone looking just like someone else.”

“Yeah, that was the plan. If I can’t have you, I wanted the next best thing. But she didn’t suck a dick like you, sweetheart.”

“I didn’t suck your dick, asshole. You fucked my fucking face,” Henry hissed, keeping his voice down even though he wanted to yell.

“Mm. And you did good. Much better than her.”

Henry sighed. Patrick got in his space again, licking at his neck, pressing little kisses to it. Unwanted, a shiver traveled through Henry’s body.

They got back to Derry without anything real or bad happening. Henry woke the guys up, dropped off Belch and then Vic, then headed to Patrick’s place, parking at the curb, wishing he’d had the good sense to drop Patrick off first.

Patrick unbuckled himself and then climbed into Henry’s lap. Henry sighed, looking away from him.

“Look at me,” Patrick barked. “Look at me right now.”

Henry’s eyes stayed to the side until Patrick grabbed his chin and pulled it to the front, forcing him to look at him. Henry swallowed, seeing the hungry look in Patrick’s eyes.

“What do you want?” he said, voice tired, a little too soft.

“You,” Patrick said. “Always you.”

Then he leaned in and kissed Henry. Henry willed himself to not respond, to just sit there and let it happen.

“Jesus,” said Patrick, pulling back. “You really think you don’t want this, don’t you?”

“I don’t want you, Patrick,” Henry said, shaking his head. He swallowed. “I don’t want you.”

Patrick ground down on his lap, against him, and Henry felt himself getting hard. His dick was a fucking traitor.

“Your dick says you do, baby,” Patrick said.

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t know what I’m thinking. I want you to leave.”

“No, you don’t,” Patrick said.

“Yeah, I do.”

Patrick kissed him again, harder this time, one hand going down to drag fingernails over Henry’s bulge. The little vibrations of the nails over the denim went straight to his fucking stomach, making it tight.

“What do I have to do to make you leave?” Henry said when the kiss had ended.

“Just kiss me. Once. Like you fucking mean it.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it, baby.”

“I’m not your baby, Hockstetter.”

“You are. You just don’t know it, yet.”

Henry sighed and pulled Patrick into a hard kiss, holding him by the sides of his face, licking into his mouth, biting at his bottom lip. Patrick sighed into it, relaxing, hands going to pull at Henry’s hair. He pulled, hard, and unwanted, a moan came out of Henry’s throat.

“That’s it, baby, moan for me,” Patrick said, lips brushing Henry’s.

“You got your kiss,” Henry said. “Now, leave.”

“Aw, c’mon,” said Patrick. “Don’t you wanna see where this will go?”

“Not really,” Henry said, pushing Patrick off his lap. “Go.”

Patrick grinned and pulled Henry’s hair again, his thumb making little circles on the side of Henry’s neck. Then, he leaned in and pressed a short kiss to Henry’s lips, and got out of the car, walking to his door.

Without waiting to see if he made it inside, Henry drove away.

[juniper-tree]

Wind and flame, 5 - A night

Rating: chapter is Safe, full work is Explicit

Dragon Age: Inquisition - Cullen x Female Lavellan

Link to AO3 - thank you for reading

Summary: Finn and Cullen talk lyrium and leadership. They don't say enough.

**

Inside the main hall's archway, the driving rain reduced to an echo.  Finn and Cullen had sprinted across the puddled yard and climbed the steps in a hurry, but despite their efforts, they were soaked.  Finn fluffed her hair and shook out the water. She watched Cullen wipe his armor with a wet hand, his hair a mess of flattened curls, dark in the low light.  He rubbed his face dry, then smiled his half-smile at her.  The candles in the entryway glinted his stubble with gold.

The hall was near silent as they walked in together, their soft footsteps, and drips of rain from their clothes, the only sound.  The days bustled with visitors, petitioners, merchants and gossip.  Now, a few guards leaned, dozing, against stone doorways.  She twisted her hair into her fists, wringing it of rain, a line of drops marking her path as they walked toward the back of the hall.

As they neared the dais where the spiky throne sat, she turned her eyes from it.  Every time she had to sit in that chair, her pulse raced, her body froze.  She did not understand why it was necessary.  The advisors had insisted upon it, and she had fought with them, even Cullen.  He had seemed, at first, to sympathize with her, but he didn't speak up much.  Not enough.  She could not make them understand: everything about it went against what she felt, what she believed.  Never to submit, that's how she had been raised.  Her father had fled the alienage, fled to their clan to escape his subjugation.  And to escape other things.  To find his freedom.  Freedom was why the Dalish lived their hard life.  No one would tell them how to live, no one would rule over them.  And here, she had to rule, to playact a queen, handing down judgments.  The field, with its constant threat of violence, was hard.  It was not simple to make war, and killing... it would never feel right.  She accepted there were forces at play which made war necessary.  But sitting in a throne was not war—it was the outcome of war, a war won.  And their war was far from finished.

Two guards slumped at either side of the door leading to her quarters.  They stiffened to attention as she and Cullen neared them.  She began to say hello, when she sensed Cullen tense as well, and pause behind her.  Suddenly, too late, she realized how this looked.  The Inquisitor and the Commander, together, late at night, headed to her quarters.  For the rumor mill, this would confirm what Sera was sure to spread tomorrow.  She sighed.  As much as she might desire it, did desire it, had been thinking of it, and then thought better—none of the implications of that were what she'd intended this night.  She considered making up an excuse for the guards, to reject, in some way, what they may be thinking, but there was nothing she could think of that did not sound like what it was: defensiveness, or lies.  So she nodded to them, opened the door and headed in.  Cullen followed, silent.

As the door shut behind him he paused again.  She turned to see him marveling at the cold, dark stairwell, its towering ceiling and steep drop below.  Even though she, and others, walked this passage often, it had the feeling of an empty, lost room.  A raven's nest, dusty with stolen padding and feathers, nestled in a corner.  Boards and platforms and chests, who knew how old, were just out of reach.  The stair rails were thick with cobwebs.  The leaded windows, during the day a sunny reprieve from the gloom of the stairwell, were spattered darkly with rain, and a hole in the far wall let in the damp outside air.  She headed up the stairs and through the door to her room, oddly small for so grand a space.  She heard his footsteps behind her.

Her room was bright and comfortable, despite the battering rain outside, a cheerful fire spitting in its hearth, which only an hour ago would not have been welcome in the heat.  On the landing, she tossed her damp jacket onto the low couch near the stairs, and rubbed her upper arms warm.  So many nights this was her routine, at the end of a long day, coming to rest in this room, so large and empty.  Alone here.  Not huddled around a fire with clanmates, or sleeping under the stars in your own bedroll, knowing all around there were friends within a few hands' reach.  Here, she was always alone.

So for a moment she forgot Cullen followed her, but he appeared next to her on the landing, looking up at the high, dark-beamed ceilings, his gaze rounding the room and its windows.  Outside the rain fell hard on the balcony, its stinging drops a counterpoint against the steady crackling of the fire.  "This is a remarkable room," he said.  She looked at him, his jaw taut and head raised, his neck pale white even in the low light.  Up to where it met his dark stubble, his skin, she imagined, was soft.  He was close enough that she could smell him—sweat and sweet grass, leather and rain.  She moved away from him, toward the fire.

She hopped over the furs lying before the fire, not wanting to dirty them with muddy bootprints.  She leaned against the side of the hearth, its mantle cluttered with drying herb bundles, and lifted her foot to begin unlacing a wet boot.  Cullen turned to her, and while his gaze shifted it landed, briefly, on the large four-poster bed.  He forced his eyes away, with a subtle shake of his head.  She yanked the tight boot from her foot.  Instead he looked at the makeshift workbench she'd created for herself, standing near the head of the stair: two mostly empty wine barrels she'd dragged from one of her alcoves, and a few loose, near-broken boards.  Atop it were a drakestone mortar and pestle, dusty with powdered remnants of ground herbs, a dull knife, cut roots, dried flower heads and half-filled bottles of clear liquor.  In some of the bottles bobbed leaves and flowers, while others were packed full of green herbs soaking tightly in alcohol.

He ran a finger around the rim of the mortar, a gentle gesture, and looked over the scattered mess of ingredients on the table.  "This is where you do your work now?" he asked, looking up at her.  She had unlaced her other boot and hopped on one foot to pull it off, watching him all the time.

"It is," she answered, bending over to remove her socks and tossing them near the desk.  She dumped the boots in front of the fire to dry.

He laughed softly.  She thought he might be laughing at her hopping.  He didn't know recently she'd even begun wearing shoes.  She'd nearly got used to them.

But he seemed to be amused by the poor construction of her table, as he tried to straighten one of the boards, split down the middle, hanging onto its other half by a few fibers, and nearly snapped it away, toppling a tincture of lady's mantle.  He caught it before it fell to the floor, and carefully replaced it.  His reflexes were quick, she noticed.  "We could get you a proper potions bench, if you want it," he said, backing away from the precarious table.

"Oh, no need for that. It works."  The bench was hers, for her alone.  None of the work she did there was important to anyone, but it kept her sane.  It was a vestige of her old life—her real life—where she could escape, and have nothing more important to do but cut and measure and mix.  She caressed the tender, scale-like leaves of a hanging bundle of juniper.

He nodded, a faint smile on his face.  "If you change your mind," he offered.  He held his hands behind his back, as if waiting for orders, and looked at her.

For a moment she watched the firelight dancing on his armored chestplate, and the swaying light seemed to match the rhythm of her thrumming heart.  Standing there, his face shining in the warm light, stray curls damp against his forehead, he was beautiful.  Never had she found a human man beautiful.  She was not prepared, not at all, to take any action on these feelings which kept churning in her mind, in her gut.  But neither was she willing to say goodnight yet.

She sat down cross-legged on the pile of furs and beckoned to him.  "Come dry yourself by the fire."

He looked down at his feet, then into one of the room's dark corners.  "I should let you be for the night."

"Just a few minutes," she said.  "Wait to see if the rain slacks."

To her relief, he hesitated only a moment before he joined her, lowering himself to sit near her, his long legs stretched toward the hearth.  She watched him move, his gait graceful and controlled, his movements careful but sure.  She imagined he had, at some point, relearned how to walk and move in this studied way, and she wondered what he had been like before the Templars.  Had he ever been awkward, stumbling over his own feet like a mabari pup?  On his farm, had he been round-cheeked and rosy, or skinny and all legs like a colt?  One day, she would ask.

His hand floated over the tips of the ruffled fur between them, then settled in the space between them.  "Do you sit here often?" he asked.  "By your fire?"

The curiosity in his voice intrigued her.  "Very often," she answered.  Perhaps he would picture her in his mind later, curled up in fur, staring into the flames.  Perhaps he liked to imagine her much as she imagined him: picture him easing out of his armor piece by heavy piece and stretching his muscled arms, pulling his strong frame up the ladder to his loft, climbing into bed and relaxing his limbs.  Picture herself there waiting for him.  "I sleep here," she said.

He turned to her, his face blank.  "Here?"

"I tried the bed," she said, "but I couldn't get used to it." He looked to the fire and scratched the back of his head, sighing.  She turned to the fire, too, staring deep into the orange embers.  She had not meant to make him uncomfortable—it was true that she slept where they now sat, the bed was so unbearably soft.  But she had let her desire do the thinking, when he'd been so open with her, and needed her help.

"I wasn't scolding you earlier," she began, "about the lyrium."  She uncrossed her legs and hugged her knees to her chest.  "I wish I could have helped you, in the beginning.  I hope I could have made it easier for you."

His gaze had lifted above the fire, to the scattered herbs hanging from the mantle, the small statue of a halla that stood in an elegant prance above them.  "What would you have done differently?" he asked.

She knew he would not like the answer.  "Taper off your use, to a gradual end."

He shook his head and looked down, his face pained.  "But I could not continue."

"Look."  Folding her legs behind her, she turned to face him.  "Anything so potent, taken for so long—it changes you. It changes your body."  She looked at him, could see his jaw working as he listened to her.  "To stop all at once... it could have killed you."  Now, she knew, she was scolding.

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye.  "It hasn't yet," he said.

Frustration boiled in her.  "Surely you do care whether you live or die," she snapped.

"Yes," he sighed, turning to look at her, his eyes apologetic.  "I do."

The hot anger faded, and she wondered at how easily he could affect her: one moment exasperated, protective the next.  She took a deep breath.  "The body is resilient," she said.  "One can reason with it, so to speak."

"Instead of forcing it to submit to my will, you mean?"  He scratched a hand through his drying curls.

"Instead of that."

"You should know by now," he said, "I have very few methods of approach at my disposal."  He snickered, shaking his head.  "The hammer to which everything looks like a nail, I've heard."

His self-deprecation did not amuse her as it usually did, but she felt a tender pull toward him.  She smiled at him.  "That seems a shallow view of your character, to my eyes."

He looked at her, his eyes troubled and red with pressure.  "In all honesty," he said, "my will to stop taking lyrium has been... weaker than I have let on."  His body seemed to shrink from her.

What he was saying came as no surprise to her.  "How many times?" she asked, gently.

He swallowed.  "Three," he said, rubbing his temple.  "Three times I have taken it.  First was after the Temple, and the breach.  I had only just made the decision.  But there was such chaos, so many demons..."  The confession poured out of him as though he had been aching for someone to listen, but his voice was heavy with fear, and pain.

"I told myself that would be the last time," he said.  "But when Corypheus hit us at Haven, and we were so unprepared..."  He looked down at his lap, hissed a breath through clenched teeth.  "My weakness in the face of that threat was a test.  And I failed, and took the lyrium.

"The last was that same night," he whispered, "when we were searching for you.  I thought it would help me track the anchor."

She felt cold.  Vague memories of that night, and clear ones of her rescue, blended together into their own chaos.  "Did it work?" she asked.

"I barely remember."  He brought his head up, looked into her eyes.  "But we did find you.  I remember that."

She stared at him.  He had carried her down the mountain, through the snow.  Then, she had been shocked by how strong and steady he was.  It had drawn her to him, even more strongly than before.  But now, the weight of his words pressed upon her like armor, heavy and cold.  "And you risked undoing all your efforts. You saved my life that night," she said, her voice a whisper, tears closing her throat. "Have I even thanked you?"

He held her gaze, his eyes golden in the firelight.  "You saved all of us," he said, insistent.  "I would do everything I could to find you."

Her breath left her.  Her heart hammered so hard against her ribs she was sure he could hear.  She reached for his hand in the fur, lifted it into her own, and held his fingers in her grip.  "Thank you," she said.

He said nothing, but his eyes did not leave hers, and she could see his chest and shoulders rise and fall with hard breaths, nostrils flaring.  The calluses on his palm were rough under her fingertips, his skin against hers felt feverish.  She stroked the back of his hand with her thumb.

Her fingers trembled with want.  And she could feel him wanting her.  Her chest ached, her eyes burned with it.  More, even, than wanting him, she wanted it to be easy between them.  The simple, natural affection she had, more than once, within the clan.  It didn't last, but that was not the point.  Two people could touch each other, smile and sleep and kiss, without fear or the weight of their sorrows.  How she wanted that for the both of them, to break the hard pieces of armor closed around him, to shed the strange magic she could feel, even now, pulsing in the hand that held his.  To be two people, not Commander, or Inquisitor.

She released his hand back into the fur between them and looked out to the balcony door near them.  The rain had lessened to a light, but steady, patter.  Cullen folded his arms loosely, and rested his chin in his palm.  "I am grateful," he said, staring into the fire, "for your help, and for... talking with me."  She could see his brow tense.  "With you, I feel comfortable.  You put me at ease," he said, "in a way."  His words were clipped and he seemed to swallow them as he spoke.  She wondered how long it had been since he told anyone how he felt.

Suddenly he stood.  She looked up at him from the floor, his head down, adjusting his armor and sashes.  "It is quite late," he said in the same clipped tone, "the rain seems near finished.  And I am sure you are eager to rest."  She nodded and stood, her heart heavy with guilt and confusion and tenderness.  No words came to her, just muddled thoughts, as she watched him start toward the stairs.

He paused then, and turned back to her, hands folded in front of his chest.  "Forgive me for never having said so before," he began, "but... I have an immense respect for you."  His eyes searched the room, looking everywhere but at her.  "Leadership is always a test," he said.  "But we have put you into an impossible position.  In the past, those I served under made mistakes.  They made bad situations worse, made them dangerous.  And I was no better," he said, scratching his chin, his eyes unfocused.

Then, as if remembering to whom he was speaking, he looked to her, his brow knit with concern.  "You have been fair to all, even when it has been difficult.  That has been a model I strive to follow.  I am proud to stand with you," he said.  "And proud to follow you, as a leader."

She thanked him, shaking, wanting to crumble, to collapse.

He searched her face for a moment, then gave a formal nod, and walked away.  His boots scuffed the stone steps.  The small door thudded shut.

Her throat tightened with a suppressed sob, and she sat down on the furs.  She lay her head to the floor, and turned to stare into the flames, low and sputtering.  The fire would soon die, unattended.  Tears soaked the fur at her cheek.

Whatever was between the two of them, it cast a large shadow over her heart, like a steep cliff under the sun.  But as large as it felt, it was nothing in the face of the Inquisition, and Corypheus.  It was a complication neither of them could bear.  Especially Cullen, she thought, with his broken body, his spirit racked with unspoken pain.  Her own pain, her fear, and grief—she could put it aside, most days.  It was behind her, following close as a scout.  But she could outpace it.  She had to.  He said it, just a moment ago.  A leader.

She was responsible for him.  She was responsible for all of them.  It was nothing she had asked for, but there was no walking away.  What would Cullen be like, she found herself wondering, if he were in her place?  What would he do?  He would take anything and everything upon himself, even if it killed him.

Was it Andrastian?  The weight of duty, of martyrdom?  She remembered Leliana in that snowy tent at Haven, her hands and face raw, praying, begging for answers from her Maker.  Her bitter resolve at not finding any answer but blood, and death.  Was this what Andraste intended for her, too?

She had not been faithful to the Elven gods for so long.  And being the Herald of Andraste—it felt like foolish superstition.  Some things were real, without question: the storm outside, the stones beneath her, the fire that still burned before her.  Pain was real.  So was kindness.  Now she had seen spirits, slain demons, had heard the voices from the Fade in that Temple.  What had Solas said to her?  There was more to see, if she wanted to see.  Her heart thumped hard.  She was not sure she wanted to look for more.

To her, it seemed, the Chantry was dying, sliced open by the death of the Divine, its heart cut out, grasping for anything to sustain it.  The faithful ones she knew, they still sought truth, yearning for a duty that could reveal it.  And Cullen sought something even harder to find: himself, away from the Templars, away from lyrium, away from the Chantry.  He was so concerned that it was selfish, but to her mind, it was the finest thing he could do.  It was what they were taught as children, what she was taught to tell the children when she became a healer: take care of yourself, and take care of those around you.  That is how you take care of the Clan.

She pushed herself up on one hand and wiped her face with the other.  She crawled closer to the fire, pulled a stoker from its stand, and stabbed into the small stack of firewood in the hearth.  Flames licked up, and sparks floated into the chimney.  The fire was not dead.  She added two small logs, and sat at the hearth, stirring the flame.

New warmth exhaled from the fire.  Finn breathed it in.  She could take care of this clan they had built, care for its people, help them care for themselves, and each other.  She would not let Cullen suffer any longer.  She would take care of him.  Even if that meant burying her want, and all her true affection.

Chapter 6: In the Graves  ➳

[inkandblade]

01. Glimmer

Stiles tipped his head back and drained the last of the water he had. The others should be back soon, so even in the heat of the afternoon he’d live. They’d bought a dozen giant bottles of the stuff with them and the last two were on the other side of the room. They were untouched and would stay that way until Derek woke up.

If Derek woke up.

Stiles growled at himself. He was a poor mimic of a wolf but he was the only one he needed to convince at the moment. He stood and stretched and pulled his t-shirt up from his belly to wipe at his face. The motel they were crashing in was small and surprisingly clean, but it didn’t seem to have any real insulation or air-conditioners. The ceiling fan wasn’t a good idea.

Derek would wake up. Stiles had learned a lot about his Spark in the last few months, and his Spark had learned a lot about his surroundings. One of the things that it had decided he needed to be able to do was judge the strength of the magic-ness of the beings around him. Derek was weak, but his energy was growing as he slowly healed from whatever was in his system.

Stiles looked out across the bland landscape outside. The motel was on the edge of a town that took ten minutes to walk the length of. There was a gas station that doubled as a market, a diner that shared its building with a doctor-cum-vet, and the sheriff’s office was in the shadow of the smallest church Stiles had ever seen. There were a score of houses and beyond all that was just flat. Stiles had managed to find a spot in the corner of the room where he got bars for a while, and Googled just where the fuck they were. The town was on the outer edges of the Sonoran Desert, and the only plants that he could see were suited to the arid environment: strong, hardy and sharp looking.

He hoped the fact that they were plentiful was a sign that Derek, who in his opinion shared those traits with the desert grasses, would also thrive. At least he’d survived.

Stiles had never liked Braeden, but he’d admitted to himself that it was because he coveted what she’d eventually taken from them. He supposed that he could feel vindicated now that he had a real reason to despise her. He didn’t. Derek had suffered enough and a petty, jealous, little boy panting after him wasn’t going to make anything any better.

Derek stirred and Stiles turned to watch him. The wolf was still sweating far more than was natural even in this heat. They’d thought about putting him in the shower to cool off, but the shock might set his wolf-healing into overdrive. Purging this kind of poison too quickly could do irreparable damage to a werewolf according to the hedge-witch that had sold it to Braeden. The man had scoffed at Scott and Stiles’ attempts at extracting information but cowered and grovelled when Lydia had appeared to see what was taking so long. They’d left with the knowledge that there was no antidote, but that the concoction needed to be re-administered regularly and would wear off otherwise. Lydia had squeezed the guy’s nose between her thumb and finger until he admitted that he’d been making it for Braeden for months.

Derek had evolved, and within days been stripped of what he’d become. Braeden  had not only taken away his wolf, but with it almost everything that made Derek who he was. She’d laughed at their shock, and Derek’s distress, when he’d seen Scott’s wolf-face: Derek didn’t know them, Derek didn’t know that werewolves existed.

Stiles had been surprised, but pleased, when Scott snapped. Braeden held her own against him for a while, but once Stiles pushed her weapons out of the way—he was getting the hang of certain parts of his magic—Scott flipped over her and dragged his claws across the back of her ankles. She’d never walk without help again. Derek had watched in terror, and sat stunned in the car when they’d handed his girlfriend over to a local Pack. The Stewart’s Alpha had questioned them hard, but Derek couldn’t hear anything they were saying.

They drove for a day and picked the first town they came to after sundown. Derek hadn’t made a fuss when they’d bundled him out of the car, but he’d refused food until they produced unopened snacks and soda from the gas station down the road. He’d fallen asleep easily, and not done much more than stir when Stiles had laid the mountain ash around the double bed and then the room.

Stiles phone buzzed in a text and Scott pushed opened the door.

“There isn’t a laundromat, but the manager is letting us borrow her washing machine if we buy her a few extra tubs of powder before we leave. Derek’s stuff is on her washing line at the moment. Ours is still in the wash.” Scott looked at Derek from over the ash-line. “Has he said anything?”

“Not even in his sleep. He’s seriously out of it. I can feel his mojo coming back online, though.” Scott had a couple of shopping bags at his feet. “Wolf or human he’ll be hungry when he wakes up. Did you get anything close to real food, or?”

“There’s protein bars, Gatorade, and cup-noodles for if he still doesn’t know who you are. If he does, just knock on the door and we’ll go get him something from the diner. The locals believe the story about us staging a drug intervention, and they’re keen to help.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie, after all.

“I just hope that asshole in San Francisco wasn’t lying about there not being any withdrawal from it.”

Scott turned his head a little. “The washer’s finished, and by the sounds of it,” he tilted his chin up to point behind Stiles, “Derek’s waking up. His heart rate’s climbing. Are you sure you don’t want one of us with you?”

Stiles was. The fewer people the better at the moment, and while Lydia could use ash and wolfsbane, she didn’t have the same control as him. “I’ll be fine. Go get those clothes out.” He reached out the door and grabbed the bag of food.

The clicked shut and Stiles turned to find Derek staring at him.

“Good morning.”

Derek blinked. “‘Morning.”

“Though, it isn’t really.” Stiles looked at his phone and back up again. “It’s almost two in the afternoon. You’ve been asleep since about nine last night.” He put the bag on the little table and sat back on the single bed he’d slept in. He laid his hand on his jeans and flicked a finger out quick, willing the ash-line around Derek’s bed to break. Hopefully it looked like he’d just pushed at some fluff. If Derek still had no real memories he might freak out even more if he realized Stiles had magic. “I had my shower hours ago, so there should be plenty of hot water. Your clothes are being washed, though, so you’ll have to put your dirty stuff back on for now.”

Derek didn’t move. Stiles stood and went back to the table and grabbed out the drinks. They had red, blue, purple and yellow energy drinks to choose from. Stiles took one for himself and tossed the purple to Derek, who’d always joked that the one that looked like wolfsbane shouldn’t taste the best.

Derek caught it and frowned down at the bottle. He opened it and took a swig, then closed it before putting it on the beside table farthest from Stiles. “I’ll shower then.” He stood up and walked over to the bathroom. He stepped inside and turned to close the door. His brow was pulled in tight and his eyebrows were low enough that Stiles could tell if they’d ever be able to go back up again. Derek’s nostrils flared and Stiles made himself stay very still.

“You,” Derek’s throat sounded dry despite the drink he’d just had, “you like the red one, and it matches your…” He looked down and to the side, then back up and Stiles and held his gaze a moment before tearing his eyes away.

Stiles opened the cap of the bottle in his hands and took a swig of the red liquid. “Take your time, big guy.”

♠

Glimmer [n]:  a dim perception; inkling; a glimmer of hope

July CampNaNoWrimo - my prompt table and ‘rules’ are here.

[wayward-demons]

Helping Hands Pt. 6

Word Count: 2887

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Y/N

Warnings/ Notes: Hey Guys, I want to appologize for being gone for so long. I lost the ability to write, but I’m getting back into it! Hope you enjoy, its a little feelsy, and a lot angsty. (Requests are Open)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

Sam held you there, in your spare room. Tears were no longer falling from your eyes, but the pain and the sadness that you were suffering still remained palpable in the air around you two. “Y/N, what happened at Luke’s house?” Sam blurted the words out before he could think about it.

They lingered in the air, floating around in front of him, teasing him. You squeezed him tighter, body shaking for just a moment.

You peeled away from Sam, turning your back to him and running a hand through your hair, “He was working with the Rugaru. Feeding it actually. There’s a whole string of missing persons reports I need to show you guys before you set out tomorrow.”

You were rambling, avoiding what you didn’t want to say. Tonight seemed to never end, and all you wanted was something to go smile. Pacing back and forth you felt you might wear a hole in the carpet.

“What do you mean Y/N?” Sam’s voice was gentle and soft. He turned his whole body towards you, trying so hard to understand. You could see the wheels in his head turning, could see him trying to understand what it was you were talking about. If he could even understand any of the words coming out of your mouth since they were flying out a mile a minute.

You sighed, “Luke was a friend of the Rugaru’s when he was a human.” You sighed, finally stopping your pacing for a moment. “And I guess he wasn’t willing to part with him just yet.” You turned to him finally, allowing yourself to finally get a good look at Sam.

His eyes were so pleading, so accepting of your behavior. None of this could be normal for him. He was alone with his brother 24/7. Sure, you’d heard about him and Dean sneaking off and having a normal relationship, a normal life, but did he know what he should do with an emotional wreck in front of him?

You shook your head, shaking your thoughts away, and getting back on track.  “So he’s been keeping him locked up in his house, and getting people to feed him so he stays alive.” You returned to your story, focusing on the present moment, on what was going on.

Sam shifted, suddenly intrigued with your story. “Did he try to-“

“But the idiot left me alone in the room. And with ropes around my wrists, ROPES!” You practically yelled. Suddenly Sam could see the redness on your wrists. “And he’s obviously not skilled with capturing hunters. Hell, he’s not even skilled with torture. And he left my pocket knife, and it was only a matter of time before I could cut through the rope and break free.”

Sam sat back, head pressing into the wall behind him. “Wow, Y/N, are you alright?” The worry on his voice was real, and you couldn’t help but be shocked by this. It had been so long since someone had shown interest in you like this, after all you’d been hunting alone for some time now.

“Yeah, I’m fine?” You sighed. “I almost got out cleanly. But there he was…”

“Luke?” Sam asked, suddenly engrossed in your conversation.

“No the fucking rugaru! Luke had him on a leash.” You kept pacing, moving faster, speaking faster. “I don’t even know what was going on. But somehow I made it past them and made it home. Only to have Dean basically tell me to get the fuck out and now I’m up here with… sorry.” You stopped yourself, turning back to see Sam sitting on the corner of the bed with his hands in his lap, still completely engrossed in what you were saying. “I didn’t- I mean”

“Don’t worry about it Y/N, Dean can be… and he thought you and Luke were-“ Sam trailed off, wringing his hands together and looking down at the floor.

“Oh god! With that creep?” You practically screamed. Shaking your body as if Luke’s creepiness was all over you. which it was.

“Yeah we went to see if you were alright and we sort of hear you, uh- moaning.” Sam ran a hand through his hair. “So Dean thought… and so we left and now he’s going to shut you out until he can talk to you again.”

You sighed, throwing yourself on the bed next to Sam, leaning your head against his chest. “And how long is that going to take?”

Sam wrapped his arm around you, holding you closer. “Get some rest Y/N, things will turn around.” Sam looked down at you as he ran his fingers through your hair so he could see your face. Your eyes red and puffy, lips chapped and cracking. Sam sighed, squeezing you tightly to his chest before he helped you lay down.

Sam wasn’t sure what was coming over him. Maybe it was seeing you break down and cry in front of him, maybe it was knowing that you had been taken in and tied up and that he walked away instead of helping you when you needed it. Maybe it was the way his brother was treating you. But right now, he wanted you to know he was there for you.

You’re breathing was still erratic, could still feel the tightness in your chest as you tried to take a deep breath. Sam’s arms remained tight around you, and before you knew it you were drifting off into exhausted sleep.

Sam slipped out of the bed quietly, hoping not to move you too much so he didn’t wake you. His footsteps remained light as he walked to the door. The hall was dark, and yet somehow Sam knew just where he was and how to get out of where he was. He practically ran down the stairs, one foot moving before the next without hesitation.

Sam pounded on the door in front of him, hand meeting wood loudly. He feared waking you up, but at this point he didn’t care.

“Alright, alright! Stop with the cop banging geeze!” Dean threw open the door and walked away instantly. “What do you want Sam? Its late, its been a long day, and tomorrow will be longer.” Dean threw himself back on the bed, kicking his feet up as he lay down comfortably.

Sam shut the door behind him, wringing his hands before he could look up and see his brother. Dean looking cozy in his sweats and t-shirt. Sam sighed. “Damnit Dean. What the fuck is wrong with you?” Sam didn’t want to hold back anymore. He’d bit his tongue since Dean had told him to pack up and they showed up here. But after being there for you, he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Oh fuck off Sam.” Dean sat up, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head.

“No Dean, I wont. Look.” Sam ran a hand threw his hair. “That girl the one that’s letting you sleep in her bed right now. She’s upstairs passed out after crying her eyes out after the day she’s had.”

“Her day? Sam, don’t even start with me.” Dean pinched at the brow of his nose, a headache starting from the tension.

“Dean. Did you even-“

Dean cut off his brother’s words. “Sam I don’t want to talk to you about this.” Dean jumped out of the bed, searching for his jacket and keys. He made his way around Sam, careful not to touch him.

“Just like you to leave, don’t hear anyone out on anything.” Sam laughed, “Go drive your car until the sun rises. Or better yet, go find a bar Dean. But don’t listen to what really happened to her tonight.”

“Sam.” Dean used his big boy voice, the one that usually would make Sam shut his mouth quickly.

But this time, Sam couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “Dean.” Sam blocked the door, not allowing his brother to make it past him. “Hear me out.”

Dean sat in his car, hands on the steering wheel as if he was going to drive and go anywhere. The keys were in the ignition, but he hadn’t turned it on, hadn’t let his baby rumble to life. His knuckles grew white, his heart racing in his chest. He’d listened to every word Sam had to say, paid close attention to every detail as his brother recanted word for word what he had made out from your little speech.

So now he sat with his mind racing. He’d told Sam he was going upstairs, going to talk to Y/N about everything in hopes of fixing what was going on. Instead he slipped out the front door before Sam could notice. Keys and jacket in hand as he stepped into the cold night air.

The radio blared, and had Dean not conditioned his ears to the loudness, he would have flinched. Or maybe he wasn’t flinching because he was in his own mind, distracted by his thoughts; things he tried to keep himself from doing. His car pulled forward as if it had a mind of its own and raced down the street. Tires practically squealing as he turned the corner without stopping at the sign.

Dean wasn’t sure where he was going, but he often took himself behind the wheel and drove until he felt better. It wasn’t until he stopped, yanked the keys out of his car, had his boots hit the ground that he even knew where he was.

He made his way to the trunk in just a few strides, throwing it open and using his trusty sawed off shotgun to hold his secret compartment open. His hands glided over the various weapons kept there. He didn’t hesitate to grab his flame thrower, smiling that wicked smile of his at the thought of getting to use it. His feet walked up the steps, kicked in the door, and helped him maneuver throughout the house he’s previously been in. He’d already had it memorized, already knew just where he was going before he could think about it.

He could see the room he had walked up to only a few hours ago. The room that held you and your moans. Dean shook it off, the feeling of his regret resurfacing because he walked away without trying to help you.

“What the-“ Luke started, but before he could finish Dean laid a punch on him, bringing the man to his knees. Luke instantly touched his face, feeling the warm liquid spilling from his nose. Luke didn’t know, but he was screaming from the pain. Dean gave him a swift kick in the stomach, shutting him up quickly.

Dean bent down, crouching before the agonizing Luke, “Here’s how this is going to go. You’re going to tell me where you keep what you think is your friend and I’m going to kill him. Then, I’m going to come back up here and tie you to that handy chair you got laying around, and get some answers out of you. sound good?”

“Fuck you.”

Dean nodded, standing up right and looking down at the mess of a man below him. “Yeah, I thought that’s what you’d say.” Dean gave Luke another swift kick in the stomach before helping the grunting man to his feet. “Okay, okay.”

It only took a few moments for Dean to find the chair he was looking for, ropes still loosely handing from the various places, traces of blood still soaked into the strands. Dean tied Luke up, making sure to hear a hiss of pain with every knot. “So, where is it?”

“It?” Luke laughed, “What makes you think I’m going to tell you?” Luke spit, blood and saliva hitting the carpet at his feet.

This made Dean laugh, turning his back to Luke for a moment as he tried to calm himself down. “Now, if I was keeping a monster like that locked up I would have to have something like a basement, maybe the attic? Either way, I’m going to find him, and burn him.”

Luke was trying to remain as calm as he could, trying to keep his face straight as he twisted his wrists and felt the bite of ropes against his skin. But his heart was racing, his mind trying to understand who this was in front of him and how on earth he knew about Scott.

“That bitch.” Luke said more to himself, but Dean heard, and instantly Luke regretted letting the words slip out of his mouth. “What did she tell you, huh?” Luke was fueled by anger, anger that you had slipped out from under his nose, and anger that he hadn’t tracked you down and made sure you wouldn’t tell a soul about what had happened. He was being careless, and that would only result in trouble for him. Hence why yet another hunter had shown up unannounced at his door.

Dean ran his thumb across his bottom lip, taking a few more steps towards Luke. Dean’s fist contacted Luke’s face once more, this time from the left. Luke spit more blood onto the floor before laughing deep and low. This only made Dean’s blood boil, and before he could even think about it he was once more hitting the man before him.

Luke let him beat the crap out of him, he sat there and took every punch and grunt with no arguments, hell he wasn’t even trying to break free from the ropes that tied him in place. Blood poured from his face, staining his shirt and pants.

Out of breath and tired, Dean left the room, slamming the door behind him. He looked down at his knuckles blood starting to dry on them, some his own, some Luke’s. Dean heard the rattle of chains from down the hall, heard the covered-up grunts from a monster being kept tied up and all but ran towards the sound.

Once more Dean kicked open a door, this one showing him just what he wanted to see. There stood Scott, his skin looking as if he had been deep fried, a chain around his neck to keep him in his place. Dean scoffed, looking around the room and seeing that Luke had set it up so Scott was living as if he were a human. A bed, though unmade, a dresser and tv. “Oh Luke…”

Scott jumped at Dean, trying his hardest to reach the man interrupting him. “Listen up Scott, you had a good run, and by the looks of it, a nice place to stay. But-“ Dean lit the homemade flame thrower in his hands. “this is the end for you.”

Scott was soon engulfed in flames, screaming out from the pain before he fainted and fell to the floor. Dean smiled, thankful for the easy gank before he remembered the tied-up Luke in the other room. Dean waited, making sure that Scott was good and dead before Dean attempted to put out the fire in front of him.

Dean ignored Luke’s yelling from the other room, ignored the threats and empty promises that Luke was trying to say. “I swear, once I get out of here!” Luke yelled. “You think this is over! You may have killed Scott, but he’s not the only one! He has a family back at the house!” Luke continued.

Dean hovered with his hand on the door knob, paying a little mind to what Luke was going on about. It wasn’t unlikely that Scott wasn’t alone, if Dean could remember correctly it was hereditary. Dean sighed, making his way back to the room where Luke remained.

“What do you mean? How many more?” Dean’s voice was low, his arms crossed over his chest as he looked at the mess before him. He hadn’t meant to, but he’d gone a little overboard with getting answers from Luke.

Luke shook his head, ignoring the pain he was starting to feel. “No, you don’t get to come in here and get answers just like that.”

“Luke,” Dean sighed, “Its been a long day, and the last thing I think either of us want is to drag this out anymore.” Dean kneeled, allowing himself to be level with Luke. “So just tell me, how many more are there and where?” Both Luke and Dean could hear the tiredness in his voice. Dean was tired, exhausted really, and he couldn’t understand why. He’d gone days with no sleep before and felt more awake than he felt now.

“Fuck you.” Luke spat out once more.

“Again with that? Doesn’t look like it went to well the first time.” Dean poked at an open cut on Luke’s face, and got the hiss of pain that he wanted. Luke refused to answer, only hissing in pain as Dean all but tortured him.

Dean left the home wrapping his hands in ripped up cloth to stop from bleeding. He slid into his car, the leather squeaking under him as he made himself comfortable. He let out a sigh as he looked down at his hands. Blood soaking through the cloths, turning the white a nasty looking brown. Now wasn’t the time to worry about it though, so he shook off the thoughts, shook off the pain, and made his way back you Y/N’s house.

(Part 7)

[rebo-chan]

Day 3 Kami/Ghost

The computer’s lighting illuminated the dark room. Light could feel his eyes aching from the overly bright blue light of the computer. The taskforce had gone home for the evening already, but Light had stayed up to finish some leftover work. It was decided that Light would take over the passed detective’s work and Light quickly figured out the reason for the large bags under L’s eyes. He closed his eyes, trying to rub the sleep out of them. A migraine had begun to form in the back of his head. Light let out a groan and slumped against the desk. He was beyond tired. Perhaps, he should go home. 

Misa would still be up waiting on him, probably with dinner already prepared. It would’ve gone cold already, but he could just heat it up. Yes, that’s what he needed right now. A hot meal, a drink, some migraine pills, and to get to sleep. He can complete the work tomorrow. 

Light opened his eyes to the dark room belonging to the taskforce. He lifted his head and went to save his work. In Light’s peripheral vision, there was a silhouette walking down the pitch black hall. Something blue and white. Light froze in his spot. Was there someone in the building? How did they get past all of L’s security measures? No, right now that didn’t matter. Light stood up from his seat. 

“Excuse me,” He called as sternly as he could muster, “This is a confidential building, you’re not allowed to be in here.” 

There was no response back. Light didn’t have any weapons on him. Well, perhaps he had one but without a name, it was virtually useless to protect him in this situation. He steeled himself and went into the hallway where he saw the silhouette turn a corner. Did they not hear him? Should he risk speaking again? Light sucked in a breath and followed them. They kept on going, taking the stairs up to the roof. Light glared as they went on to the roof. The audacity of some people. Breaking and entering was bad enough, but the fact that exploring the place like it was their home was just plain rude. 

“Hey!” Light shouted, walking up to the roof. There were rain clouds out in the night sky. A storm was beginning to brew in the sky, so the winds were rather harsh.

The person seemed to hear him this time, but they didn’t appear startled in the least bit. They began to turn towards them. Light got close enough to make out some features and felt his blood cold. Pale skin, raven black hair, a white shirt, and blue jeans. His lungs began to constrict. No no no, this wasn’t real. The migraine in the back of his head got worse. His head felt like it was splitting open. He tried to suck in as much oxygen as he could, but it only made the pain worse. Light keeled over in pain, gripping his head. Something wet hit his cheek. Then, a few droplets hit the ground. The sound of rain filled Light’s ears. 

Light released his head, glancing up to see the rooftop was now empty. It was Light and the rain on the rooftop. He looked around for the person, but there was no one. Was Light just imagining him? No, he was definitely there but was that possible? Light stood up shakily, having already been soaked from the rain. He left the rooftop in a hurry, his hair and clothes sticking to him. 

Light quickly got back to the taskforce main room, The laptop was still on with Light’s unsaved work on the screen. He was going to leave it untouched. Now, he just wanted to get home. Light packed his things as fast as he could humanely go and evacuated the HQ for the evening. 

In brighter news, he had been right about Misa. When he’d gotten home, she was laid on the couch watching something on the TV. She burst into action as he walked through the door, giving him a tight hug and going to heat up his food. Light sighed as he sat down at the dinner table. There were still remains of the migraine, but he should eat before taking some medicine. Light tried to keep the image of that person out of his head. It wasn’t possible. 

“Light,” Misa chirped, “Do you know what tomorrow is?”

“..Hm?” He looked over at her tiredly. 

“Aw, how could you forget? It’s Sayu’s birthday!” She chuckled.

Light blinked, remembering the date. Oh, shit she was right. He completely forgot about it, so he didn’t have a present. Sayu would skin him apart, if he showed up without a present. Misa placed the plate of Light’s food next to him. 

“You don’t have a present, do you?” She snickered. 

“No, no I don’t..” Light frowned.

“That’s okay, we can go shopping tomorrow together to get something for her before we head over to your family home.” 

Yes, yes that was a good idea. Light would contact Mogi and tell him to save the work that Light had already completed. He needed the day off. It would help him forget what he saw earlier. Misa sat across from Light, her fingers intertwined together as she smiled at Light. She seemed excited. 

“What is it?” Light said. 

“I was thinking, we could buy a cake tomorrow too.” Misa smiled gently.

Images of pale skin and black hair flashed in his mind and the migraine tripled in intensity. Light pressed his lips together tightly, gripping the tableside. 

“Why? Sayu’s not a child anymore.” 

Misa blinked, “Well, I think she’ll like it.”

“Doubt it..” The migraine was getting worse. 

“I talk to her more often than you do now,” Misa hummed, “C’mon, it’s just a cake. What about a vanilla cake?” 

Light glared down at his untouched food. His appetite was gone now and the back of his head was throbbing. Misa kept going. 

“Though, vanilla can be a little boring I guess. How about chocolate?” 

Light didn’t respond, trying to focus on willing the headache away. Misa didn’t seem deterred by Light’s silence.

“What about strawberry?-” 

“Misa, shut up.” Light hissed out. 

Misa went quiet. He looked up at her. A few years ago, she would’ve cried or threw a tantrum at Light doing that. Now, she just watched him like she knew something he didn’t. That’s how she always looks now. 

“I’m sorry,” He said, “I’ve got a horrible headache.” 

Misa perked up at that, “Have you taken any medicine?”

 If Light didn’t know any better, he would’ve been convinced that she was already over it but he did know better. Misa was tiptoeing around him, choosing to play the role of the concerned girlfriend rather than start a fight. 

“No, I haven’t.” Light answered. 

“There’s some medicine in the bathroom mirror cabinet.” She smiled at him. 

Light nodded, getting up from his seat and trekking his way to the bathroom. He stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, seeing how he looked. Black eyebags had formed, his hair was sticking up in random places completely unbrushed and dirty from the rain, his clothes were wrinkly having dried wrong. Light had to laugh at himself. This had to be some joke. He was a fucking mess.

He opened the mirror cabinet and pulled out a pill bottle, taking two out and popping them into his mouth. Light closed the cabinet and stared at the mirror’s reflection. He dropped the pill bottle onto the ground and started shaking. Staring back at him was black eyes, raven black hair, and pale skin.

“L..” Light choked out. 

What appeared to be L only smiled at him in that mischievous way that L would when he knew he was winning. Light trembled, frozen in his spot. L opened his mouth, saying something though there was no noise coming out. Light knew what he was saying though. Ki-ra. 

“Leave me alone!” Light screamed, throwing his fist at L before backing against the bathroom wall in horror. 

There was the sound of shattering glass and Misa shouting from the other room. She ran in, horrified. Light had slided down to the bathroom floor, hand bleeding out from several cuts. There was glass scattered around the bathroom floor and the mirror was broken beyond repair.

“What happened?” Misa’s voice shook with fear. 

“L.. L was there!” Light pointed at the broken mirror with his bloody hand. The pain was beginning to register and he pulled his hand back to his chest, cradling it gently. He panted heavily, trying to calm himself. Misa looked at the mirror. She was still fearful, but from something else now.

“Light..” She said hesitantly, like she was walking into territory she was unsure how to trek on. “L is not there..” 

“He was!” Light exclaimed, “He was there, staring at me!” 

“L is gone, Light.” Misa said. “He has been gone for years now. You did not see L.” 

“Yes, I did..!” Light’s voice came out weak. 

“No, you didn’t.” She smiled weakly. 

Misa walked over to Light, helping him off the bathroom floor, “Let’s patch up your cuts, okay?” 

“I’m not crazy,” Light gripped her hand tightly, “He was there. I saw him.” 

“I know, you’re not crazy, okay? So, let’s go to the bedroom and you can get some sleep. You’ve been working for the last two days.” 

Two days? Is that how long it’s been? He followed Misa out to the bedroom where she set him down on the bed and started immediately bandaging up his hand. 

“He was there..” Light pulled his hand back when she was down.

“Shh, I know.. I know..” 

Misa pushed him down against the bed, wearing that same smile she wore when she knew something he didn’t. Light wasn’t crazy. L was definitely there. It would be just like L to torment Light after death like this.