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purrincess-chat · 4 years ago

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Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH12

It’s ya boooooy! Malin is here!! Super huge shout out to @salty-french-fry for bringing him to life. I commissioned her to draw all of my OC hero babies, so you can see Malin in all of his anime boy glory here! We stan a trans bicon. And for those who are unaware, Malin is another name for fox in French, but like with the connotation of calling someone sly or tricky. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! I tweaked it quite a bit from the original. ;)

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Chapter 12: WTF Do I Know

“I know our duty is to the city, but I can’t help these feelings stirring my heart. Every time I see her brilliant blue eyes shining in the moonlight, I am overcome with passion and admiration. She truly is Miraculous.” Eliott looked to Marinette sitting cross-legged on the floor for approval. “How was that?”

“Incredible! You really have Chat Noir down,” she said.

Eliott rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks, but I still feel like I could do better. Opening night is only a week away, and I’m playing one of the leads. Everything has to be perfect.” He paced the length of the stage, adjusting his black mask.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. You make a wonderfully convincing Chat Noir.” She assured him—and she should know.

“Wonderfully convincing isn’t perfect. This play is a tribute to Ladybug and Chat Noir’s triumph on Heroes’ Day. If I screw up then I’ll be dishonoring them.” He turned and gestured to the impressive backdrop of the Eiffel Tower.

“No, you won’t.” Marinette stood up and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re an amazing actor, and I know you’re gonna kill it.”

“Places in five everyone!” The director swept through the stage.

Stagehands rushed around the set. Costume designers made last-minute alterations, and each prop was meticulously tested and placed for ease of access during scene changes. Marinette never realized how chaotic theater was behind the scenes.

Eliott let a deep breath past his lips, and Marinette offered him a smile. “I’ll be watching in the audience. You’re gonna do great.”

“Thanks, Marinette,” he said. “And thanks for coming to watch our dress rehearsal.”

“Thanks for inviting me.”

“Sorry I’m so crazy about everything, I just want to be the best.” He fiddled with his gloves. “I’ve been studying English since I was little because my dream is to perform on Broadway. I know it’s a long shot, but it’s what I’ve wanted ever since my grandma and I watched a play together when I was a kid.”

“You’ll get there, and I’ll be sitting in the front row with Macy, Martin, and Adrien.”

Eliott smiled at that, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. “I actually owe you, Marinette. You’ve helped me a lot as an actor since we met.”

“Me? How?”

“You taught me to take risks. Before I met you, I was just coasting through life, staying out of the way, playing it safe, but now I can stand up for other people and speak out,” he explained. “You helped me find the courage to step outside my comfort zone.”

Her cheeks burned, but she smiled at the sentiment. All of her new friends gave praise so easily—something Marinette wasn’t used to. Helping others wasn’t about getting rewarded, and in most cases, the attention just made her squirm. She helped her friends because she cared. Although, even if their compliments embarrassed her, it was nice to know she was appreciated.

“Watch where you’re going!” A nasally voice grabbed their attention.

“Sorry!” A tiny stagehand shrank under the icy glare of her aggressor.

Eliott sprang into action to diffuse the situation. “Margot, is there a problem?”

“She bumped into me! Can you imagine if I had fallen and broken my wrist a week before opening night? How can I play Ladybug with a broken wrist?” Margot shouted.

Eliott stepped between her and the stagehand, holding up defensive hands. “I’m sure it was just an accident. No one got hurt, so why don’t you go cool off? We’re almost ready to start.”

“Ugh, whatever. Just stay out of my way!”

As she stalked off, Eliott turned to the small girl. “Are you okay, Lisette?”

“You know my name?” Her eyes widened.

“Of course. You hand me my props before I go on stage,” he said. “Don’t let Margot get to you. She’s just nervous because the show is in a week, and it’s her first time playing a lead.”

“It was my fault. I wasn’t watching where I was going,” Lisette said.

Eliott tucked a strand of her blonde hair back into place, brushing her cheek with his thumb. “Hey, don’t worry about it. We’re all a little high strung right now.”

“You’re not.”

Eliott flashed her a playful grin. “I’m a good actor.”

“I know,” she said, and when Eliott quirked a brow she fumbled to add, “I-I’ve kind of had to watch you for the past several months. You’re really good.”

“Wow, thanks, Lisette. I’m flattered that a pretty girl like you is a fan of mine,” Eliott said.

Her cheeks flushed, and she gave a small nod before scurrying off to her position at the director’s order.

Marinette couldn’t help the smile on her lips as Eliott found his mark and took a few deep breaths to center himself. He’d grown a lot since they met, and if someone had to play Chat Noir, she was glad it was him. She’d been uncertain at first, but Eliott really was worthy of being a hero, even if his costar was the worst. How could they cast such a brat to play Ladybug?

Taking her seat in the audience, Marinette thought back to her encounter with Gabrielle several nights prior. True to her word, Gabrielle hadn’t bothered them since, but what she was doing out on her own like that? And what was up with the apron in her bag? Something fishy was going on with her, but at least she was keeping her word. It was about time Marinette got some peace and quiet.

♪♫♪ I’m Not Calling You a Liar ♪♫♪

When the school bell rang, Alya remained seated, lips pursed. Her other classmates gathered their backpacks, eager to enjoy their weekend plans. Adrien paid her no mind as he slung his bag over his shoulder and followed everyone else out. They hadn’t spoken since their last encounter, and Alya still wasn’t sure what to think. He sounded so sure of himself. After being friends with Marinette, she knew far more about Adrien Agreste than she ever cared to, and truthfully, Alya didn’t think he was capable of being malicious.

Don’t believe everything Lila tells you. Be a journalist. Investigate.

But how? It’s not like Alya could just call up a bunch of celebrities and foreign princes to ask them to corroborate all of Lila’s stories, and even if she could, what would Lila think if they proved Adrien wrong? Or worse, what would Alya think if they proved him right? If they proved Marinette right…

It had been two weeks since she left. Two weeks since they… Alya had been hurt at first, and her heart still ached thinking about it now. In the grand scheme of things, she hadn’t known Marinette that long—only a few months—so it was possible that there were things Alya didn’t know about her. Dark secrets she kept hidden. But if that were possible for Marinette, couldn’t the same be true for Lila? And why was Alya so afraid to go looking?

“Alya? Did you hear me?”

She blinked out of her trance. “Sorry, what?”

“You’ve been awfully spacey lately,” Lila remarked. “I was just saying that I have an important meeting today with my youth ambassadors committee. Clara Nightingale has promised to sponsor our clean water initiative, and today’s the only day we can meet with her. Is there any way you can take care of that thing Mlle. Bustier needed for me?”

Don’t believe her.

“Actually, Lila, I have to go pick up my little sisters because Nora has practice this afternoon, and Mlle. Bustier did ask you to do it,” Alya said.

Lila’s eyebrows raised, but just as quickly, she puckered her lips into a pout. “Is there any way you could have Nino pick up your sisters? This meeting is really important.”

“Nino promised Juleka he’d help Kitty Section with their sound system today so they can practice before their gig this weekend.” Her heart pounded as Lila’s lip twitched.

“I mean, I guess I can put off my meeting. Those kids in India will just have to go a little while longer without clean drinking water…” Lila eyed her.

“Ya know, if you’re too busy to keep up with your class rep stuff, you can always tell Mlle. Bustier to let us elect someone else. I’m sure everyone would understand,” Alya said pointedly.

“And let Chloe become the class rep again? I couldn’t do that to you guys.” Lila shook her head.

“True, but I can’t cover for you all the time. I have my own stuff going on. Maybe I’m not saving third world countries, but sometimes I have a life to live too,” Alya said. “You were elected to do all of this, you know.”

“No, I understand,” Lila sighed. “I’ve been putting too much pressure on you to do my job. It’s just so hard to juggle going to school and saving the world. I’ll figure out a way to do it for all of you because you’re my friends, and my friends are just as important to me as any starving, third-world country.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear that you’ll be putting in more effort.” Alya stood up. “Have a good weekend.”

“Oh, I’m sure my weekend will be better than those thirsty children in Iran.”

Alya stopped in the doorway. “Don’t you mean in India?”

“What?”

“Earlier you said the meeting was for children in India. Now you just said Iran,” Alya said.

“Oh, yeah, that’s what I meant,” Lila said. “I have a different thing for Iran next week. It’s hard to keep everything straight when you’re so busy.”

“Right.” Alya’s eyes narrowed. “Well, good luck.”

“Give your sisters a hug for me!”

Alya’s hands shook as she headed up the hall. It was probably nothing, just a simple mix up like she said, but… Given the circumstances, it was a little suspicious. One thing was certain: Alya would be keeping an eye on her.

♪♫♪ Thnks fr th Mmrs ♪♫♪

“Your rehearsal was amazing,” Marinette said afterward over tea. “Well, except for Margot’s prop mishap. I thought she was going to have a meltdown.”

Eliott stirred his drink with a smirk. “She’s a great actress until something goes wrong,” he chuckled. “I just feel bad for Lisette. She looked like she wanted to kill her.”

“Speaking of Lisette…” Marinette gave him a knowing look. “I think she might have a crush on you.”

“Lisette? Nah.” Eliott averted his gaze, taking a sip of his tea. “I’m not anyone important. There’s no way she’d be into me.”

“That’s not true. You’re an amazing actor,” Marinette said. “I mean that, you don’t have anything to worry about.”

“Thanks, I guess the thought of someone liking me just makes me nervous.” He bit his lip.

“Come on. You flirt with everyone all the time,” Marinette said. “You flirted with me on my first day of school.”

“Flirting is different. Just because I flirt with people doesn’t mean they have to like me back,” he said, then biting his lip, added, “Do you really think she likes me?”

“As someone who struggles to get two coherent sentences out around the boy she likes, I think she likes you more than you know,” Marinette said.

“Speaking of… You and Adrien sure seem to get along.” He sipped his tea with a satisfied smirk as Marinette’s cheeks burned. He didn’t waste any time flipping the script, but it was her fault for opening that door.

“Oh, do we? I mean, of course we do. We’re just friends, I don’t have feelings for him at all,” she said with a nervous titter.

“I never said you did,” Eliott said.

“Oh, um, yeah, well then I- don’t tell Macy.” She hung her head in defeat.

“Your secret’s safe with me.” He shrugged. “But you don’t have to worry about Macy’s crush. It’s superficial. She fixates on some famous guy for a while, then moves on when something new catches her eye.”

Marinette relaxed. “Good. I’ve just liked Adrien for a long time, and ever since I left my old school, he’s been paying more attention to me, so…I don’t want it to come between us.”

“Nah, I’m sure if she knew she’d back off,” Eliott assured her. “She’s extremely loyal to her friends and would never try to take away something you wanted even if she wants it too. One time she and I argued for twenty minutes because she convinced herself I wanted the last cookie on the plate. We ended up breaking it in half.”

“That’s a relief.” Marinette let out a breath.

“Though I do have to wonder which sounds better, Marinette Agreste or Adrien Dupain-Cheng?”

Marinette nearly choked on her tea. “Eliott!”

“I’m kinda partial to Adrien Dupain-Cheng myself.”

“Stop!” She covered her face, cheeks burning, and Eliott threw his head back with a laugh.

A herd of people stampeded up the sidewalk right before a loud crash sounded a few blocks over. Debris fell from the ceiling, and Eliott tackled Marinette to the ground, cradling her head.

“That sounded close, we should run.” He pulled her to her feet. “My yacht isn’t far from here, we can hide there.”

As much as she hated to do it, Marinette needed to get away. Gradually, she let herself slip from his grasp in the crowd. Eliott turned over his shoulder in an attempt to reach her again, but too many people stood between them.

“Marinette!”

“Go! I’ll catch up,” she called.

His eyebrows furrowed worriedly, but he pressed on without question.

Marinette ducked into a nearby alley and opened her purse. “Ready, Tikki? Transform me!”

Ladybug tossed her yoyo across the street, tugging the slack and launching herself into the rooftops. Racing down the row of buildings, she followed the civilian trail to the scene of the attack. Overturned cars and broken windows signaled that she was on the right track, and she arrived at the same time as Chat Noir.

“Well, well we meet again, m’lady.” His flirtatious lilt echoed between the buildings as he staff-coptered down to join her.

“I would hope so since saving the city is our job.” She flicked his bell. “I think it’s about time we clocked in, don’t you?”

“Ladies first.” Chat Noir bowed as Ladybug tossed her yoyo and shot into action. “Don’t mean to interrupt your tirade, but I’m gonna need to see some license and registration for that car,” he said as they landed. “What’s the matter? Rough break up?”

The akuma turned to them with a growl, tossing the car aside, and Ladybug spotted a small blonde girl cowering underneath.

“Civilian alert!”

“On it.” Chat Noir charged forward, brandishing his staff.

“Ladybug! Chat Noir! I am Showstopper, and I’m about to give Paris the performance of a lifetime after I get rid of her.”

The small girl on the ground cowered under Showstopper’s glare, her blonde buns oddly familiar…

Ladybug gasped. “That’s Lisette which means Showstopper must be Margot! She really was upset by that mistake.”

Lisette attempted to run, but Showstopper served a ball of light at her with the tennis racket—the lucky charm prop from the play and likely where the akuma was hiding. The attack froze Lisette in place, but before Showstopper could make her next move, she blocked a blow from Chat Noir’s staff. A few seconds passed, and the magic faded, sending Lisette toppling forward.

“So that’s it,” Ladybug said, then to Chat Noir called, “Don’t let her hit you, or she’ll freeze you for a few seconds!”

“Got it!” He dodged an orb.

Once Showstopper drove him back several paces, she dashed after Lisette, launching a bus to the end of the street to block the exit.

“Going somewhere?”

“No, but you are.” Ladybug hooked her yoyo around Showstopper’s ankle. Showstopper lobbed several orbs at her before she could pull the slack, and Ladybug backflipped out of the way, diving for cover with Chat Noir behind two flipped cars.

“We need a plan to get that girl out of here.” He peeked over the side.

Ladybug palmed her yoyo. “Lucky Charm!” Her eyebrows raised as a paper lantern landed in her hands.

“Oh great, you can light the way for her to wreck that girl,” Chat Noir said.

Ladybug pursed her lips contemplatively. “I need to go to Master Fu,” she said. “Can you handle things until I get back?”

“Just don’t keep me waiting too long.” Chat Noir nodded before they broke off.

Leaving in the middle of a battle was always risky, but this wasn’t a fight they could win alone. She just hoped that she could find an ally in time.

“Master Fu?” Marinette knocked, peeking her head inside.

“What is it, Marinette?” He glanced up from his book.

“I need to borrow a Miraculous to win this battle.”

Master Fu retrieved the Miracle Box from the phonograph and placed it on the mat in front of her. “Have you found someone you trust to wield it?”

Marinette contemplated her choices carefully, running strategies in her head. After she and Alya split up, she wasn’t sure she’d ever trust someone enough to replace Rena Rouge, but her new friends proved her wrong. Taking a deep breath, she nodded and reached for the fox. “I know exactly who to pick, and I won’t let you down this time.”

Master Fu offered her one of his proud, grandfatherly smiles. “You never have. I have always had faith in you, Marinette.”

Her chest swirled with pride as she stood up. “Transform me.”

Eliott’s yacht was empty when Ladybug touched down on the deck. He told Marinette to hide there, so she’d been certain it was where he’d be. Then again, Eliott wasn’t the same cowardly boy he’d been when they met, and he didn’t turn his back on a friend. She knew where to find him.

“Marinette?” His voice echoed between the buildings of the abandoned street, and he flinched when Ladybug landed behind him. “Ladybug! Thank goodness, have you seen my friend Marinette? We got separated, and I told her to meet at my yacht, but-”

“Don’t worry. She’s safe,” Ladybug said. “Actually, I need your help.”

“My help?” He arched a brow. “I mean, sure, I'll do anything.”

“Eliott Chasse, this is the Miraculous of the fox which grants the power of illusion. You will use it to fight for the greater good.” She extended the box to him.

“Whoa, you're giving me a Miraculous?” he gasped. “But wait, why me? What happened to Rena Rouge?”

“She's...not around.” Ladybug averted her gaze. “Will you help me?”

“I-I dunno. I think my friend Marinette would be way better at this than me.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Eliott…” Ladybug smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You are the right person for this job. Have courage and believe in yourself. That's all you need to be a superhero.”

Eliott pressed his lips together, then accepted the box with a nod. Shielding his eyes from the bright light, he gaped in disbelief as Trixx materialized. “Whoa!”

“My name’s Trixx. I’m a kwami, and if you want to transform all you have to say is ‘Trixx, transform me!’” she explained as Eliott fastened the clasp of the necklace.

“Alright then. Trixx, transform me!” When the orange light faded, Eliott examined his orange and white suit with wide eyes. “Wait, is this really happening?”

“Do you know how your powers work?” Ladybug asked. There was no time to waste.

“Of course. I studied news footage in preparation for my role as Chat Noir in an upcoming play. I wanted to accurately portray the team's dynamic,” he said.

“Good, then follow me.”

Ladybug tossed her yoyo and shot off. Eliott hesitated only briefly, taking a few steps before leaping over the building after her. He touched down lightly beside her before they shot off again.

“I know it's a lot to take in, but we don't have a lot of time,” Ladybug said. She pulled up the news coverage of the akuma. Showstopper had taken the battle all the way to the Eiffel Tower. She skidded to a stop behind a chimney and closed her yoyo. “Hmm…Lucky Charm!”

“A bottle of soap? At least the villain will be squeaky clean?” Eliott shrugged.

Ladybug turned it over in her hands, a plan forming in her mind. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do.”

- - -

Showstopper held a frozen Lisette over the edge, and Chat Noir held up defensive hands as he attempted to negotiate.

“Hand over your Miraculous, or I'll drop her!”

“Maybe we can come to a compromise,” he reasoned, but Showstopper was in no mood.

“You have five seconds. One!”

“There has to be something else you want.”

“Two.”

“After all this is murder we're talking about.”

“Three!”

“I'm sure she didn't mean any harm.”

“Four!”

“Ladybug, hurry up!”

“Five!”

Before Chat could react, Showstopper released her grip, sending Lisette plunging toward her doom. Chat Noir attempted to dive after her, but Showstopper pitched another orb at him. To his relief, Ladybug swung in to deflect it just in time, but there was no time for gratitude.

“Ladybug! The girl!”

“Already taken care of,” she assured him.

- - -

Lisette unfroze midway down, eyes widening in fear as the ground grew closer. Just as a scream reached her throat, Eliott caught her, carrying her safely back to the Eiffel Tower. Her screams echoed across the bars as she clung to him for dear life, but they quieted the moment she looked into his eyes.

“Falling from heaven, angel?” He set her down gently. “Stay hidden. Showstopper can't see you if we want our plan to work.”

She blinked in shock, cheeks flushing. “Wait!” She caught his wrist as he turned to leave. “W-Who are you?”

“Uh… Call me Malin.” He winked, giving a two-finger salute before leaping up to the rafters.

Malin summoned his Mirage on the way up, cheeks still hot. Now wasn’t the time to worry about what Lisette thought of him. First, he needed to save her.

“You're too late!” Showstopper proclaimed, and Malin cleared his throat.

“Are we?” He clocked a brow.

Showstopper spun around where Malin held his fake damsel. “No!” she growled.

“New friend?” Chat Noir sized him up.

“I'll tell you later,” Ladybug said.

Malin set his illusion free with instructions to run, and as expected, Showstopper gave chase. Ladybug really was a wizard at coming up with plans. When Chat Noir moved to follow, Malin stepped in front of him with a wink.

“Who are you?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

“Name's Malin, and you are one foxy feline in person, Chat Noir.” He looked him up and down.

“Less flirting, more running. Phase two,” Ladybug ordered. “Kitty, follow me and get ready to use your Cataclysm. Malin, you know what to do.”

“On it.” Malin nodded, leaping back over the edge with a whoop.

Showstopper pursued the fake Lisette to the second-floor restaurants, falling right into their trap. She skidded against the soapy floor as Malin's illusion faded before her eyes. A broom perched between two chairs clotheslined her, sending her tennis racket flying from her grasp right into Chat Noir's waiting Cataclysm.

Malin helped Margot up as Ladybug captured the akuma and returned everything to normal. “Seriously, losing your cool over a prop malfunction is so lame.” He chided. “You're playing Ladybug, so my suggestion is: take a lesson from the real thing and let go of that bad energy.”

Lisette peeked up from the stairs timidly, pacing over to join them. “I'm sorry your yoyo string was tangled. I should have checked it,” she said.

“Yeah, whatever.” Margot rolled her eyes. “Sorry I tried to throw you off the Eiffel Tower.”

“Technically, you did throw her off the Eiffel Tower,” Chat Noir said pointedly.

“You were awesome, Malin.” Ladybug nudged him with her elbow.

“It was your plan, all I did was help.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

Ladybug shook her head. “You saved this girl, and we couldn't have done it without you. Be proud. You're a true superhero.”

Malin bit back a smile, surveying his suit and squaring his shoulders with a new sense of purpose. Ladybug was right. He had his doubts when she asked him because he still had a long way to go before he would consider himself an actual hero. If anyone deserved the title without a Miraculous, it was Marinette, and he owed this opportunity to her. He never would have had the courage to accept Ladybug’s offer without her. It was a shame she’d never know how much she truly changed his life. Maybe one day he could tell her this secret, but for now, he’d wear his secret identity like an invisible badge of honor.

“Pound it!” The three heroes said in unison.

Malin turned to Lisette and bowed formally. “Perhaps I will save you again someday,” he said.

Lisette bit her lip before stretching up to kiss his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Ladybug took his wrist and toted him off as a dopey grin spread across his lips. They retreated to a private corner at the base of the tower, and Malin returned the necklace to Ladybug. Shoving his hands in his pockets, Eliott shifted his gaze to his shoes with a sigh.

“What's wrong?” Ladybug asked.

“Nothing, just… Lisette kissed Malin, not Eliott.” He kicked at the ground.

“You really like her, don't you?” Ladybug asked.

Eliott flinched, rubbing the back of his neck. That morning the thought of falling in love with someone terrified him, but now… Maybe he hadn’t come down from his heroic high, but with Lisette’s kiss still burning on his cheek, he smiled.

“Yeah, I do,” he said.

“Well, Malin is very charming, but I think she might need someone to walk her home. Think Eliott can handle that?” Ladybug pointed to where Lisette was stepping off the elevator.

Have courage and believe in yourself.

On any other day, the fear of rejection would have convinced him to walk away, and maybe tomorrow it would. But today, today he wasn’t afraid.

“Lisette! Wait up.”

#marinette dupain-cheng's spite playlist #marinette dupain-cheng's spite playlist remix #mdcsp #mdcspr #my writing #cats ocs

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calpalirwin · 4 years ago

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Crush, Crush, Crush

Summary: As if having one crush wasn’t complicated enough.

Word Count: 3.4k

And away and away we go!

Delilah let out a loud shriek, flinching away as an ice cold water bottle was pressed against the back of her neck. “Mikey!” she kept shrieking as the boy burst into a fit of giggles, pressing the bottle firmer against the girl’s neck, water droplets running down into the back of her shirt. “I’m gonna kill you!” she laughed, turning around.

Michael dropped the bottle and ran for his life, Delilah giving chase, their socked feet sliding around on the hardwood floors, both of them screaming wildly. As a last ditch effort to catch him, Delilah pushed off with her right foot, launching herself towards Michael’s back, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck, and his hooking under her legs so they wouldn’t fall.

“Um… wish I could say this usually doesn’t happen… But uh… that’d be a lie,” Calum’s voice sounded from in front of them and both Delilah and Michael snapped their heads to the sound, finding Calum, Luke, and a boy Delilah had yet to meet standing there.

“Didn’t know Mike had a girlfriend,” the boy said, rubbing at the back of his neck.

Delilah let out a high pitched giggle as she climbed off Michael’s back, who scoffed, “D’s not my girlfriend.”

“Oh,” the boy said, brightening slightly.

“Yeah, she’s actually my girlfriend. Mike, how could you?!” Calum cried with fake dramatics.

Delilah fake gagged. “Not even in your dreams, Hood,” she told him before focusing her attention on the boy whose name she still didn’t know. “I’m Delilah. And you are?”

“”M Ashton,” he smiled softly.

“Oh, the drummer!”

“Heh,” Ashton giggled nervously, a dimple indenting his cheek. “Yeah, that’d be me.”

“Cool!”

“Yeah, and now that we have a drummer, can we get our other guitarist, and practice?” Luke quipped.

Delilah rolled her eyes at the boy. “I guess you can borrow, Mike. But you owe me one, Hemmings.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

As the group of five made their way into the living room, Michael nudged into Delilah, “Stop staring at Ash,” he teased, low enough so only she heard him.

“I am not staring,” she whispered back. “But if I was…?”

Michael chuckled, understanding her only the way he could. “Two grades above us. Different school. No girlfriend. Good drummer. Definitely sticking this out with us.”

“Fuck, that doesn’t help me not like him, Mike.”

Michael chuckled more. “Yeah, I know.”

~5 Years Later~

Ashton spotted Delilah and Michael already lounging in the sun, sighing internally. How was he ever supposed to think he stood a chance at having either of them, let alone make a move when those two were always joined at the hip? His phone pinged in his hand, and he hoped it was either Calum or Luke saying they were finding parking. Fortunately it was both Calum and Luke. Unfortunately it was both of them saying that something had come up, and they couldn’t make it. “Fuckin’ great…” Ashton muttered under his breath, trudging the last few feet across the sand towards Delilah and Michael. “Hey, guys.”

Both of them shielded the sun out of their eyes as they looked over at Ashton, bright smiles on their faces. “Oh, hey Ash!”

“Hey,” he repeated. “Um, did you see what Cal and Luke said?”

With frowns, they both looked at their own phones. “God damn it…” Michael groaned. “They do this all the time… They wanna hang out, and then they bail on us.”

Delilah shrugged. “Well fuck them. We don’t need them to have fun, do we?” With that, her fingers tugged up the hem of her shirt, to pull the fabric free from her body. “Can one of you help me get my back?” she asked, digging through her bag for a bottle of sunscreen.

Michael almost dropped the bottle, as Ashton gulped, both men sharing a glance. Taking the path of least resistance, they both shared the job of covering the woman’s back in shoulders, Delilah sighing in content as the way their fingers gently massaged her skin. “Thanks guys.”

“No problem…” they mumbled in a rush, their cheeks bright red.

“Um, I can do your guys’ backs if you want…” she suggested.

“Yeah! That’d be great!”

Delilah had to bite down on her lip as both men discarded their shirts, and all three of them took a small moment to clear their throats. “Um… Wanna help me with Mike first, ‘Lila? He might burn quicker than me…” Ashton all but squeaked.

“Good idea,” Delilah giggled, squirting the sunscreen in Ashton’s waiting hand, and then her own. She shared a covert smile with him as they started covering Michael’s back, their fingers knocking into the other’s.

When it was Delilah and Michael’s turn to get Ashton’s back, Ashton shuddered at the way his friends’ fingers carefully went over the tattoo on his neck, before moving to get the rest of his back and shoulders. “Fuck, that tickles,” he giggled airly. “Maybe you should think about getting a spray.”

“Aw, where’s the fun in that?” she started to flirt, then immediately felt bad at the way Michael’s face scrunched. “I don’t have a lot of faith in spray sunscreen. Every time I use it, I get burned,” she added quickly as an explanation.

After they finished applying the sunscreen to the rest of their exposed skin, Ashton glanced out towards the water. “Shall we?”

“Let’s go!” Delilah said, skipping off ahead of them.

“You should go for it,” Michael mumbled to Ashton as they walked together at a slower pace. “You and D… You’d uh… be cute together.”

“What? Pfft… Nah… You think?”

Michael shrugged. “I see the way you look at her. And if I trust anyone with her, it’d be you, ya know?”

“Thanks, Mike. That, um… means a lot. But, I don’t think she sees me that way. Pretty sure she’s into someone else.”

“Shit that blows…”

It was Ashton’s turn to shrug. “Eh, it’s alright. Can’t say I blame her. She has pretty good taste.”

“That she does,” Michael nodded.

~~~

“So, you ever gonna ask him out?” Delilah asked Michael as they sat on the shoreline, watching Ashton still out in the water.

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean what do I mean? Ash! When are you gonna ask him out?”

“Uh… never? Cuz he doesn’t like me.”

Delilah snorted, “Yeah, okay. And I’m the Queen of England.”

Michael shook his head, then sighed. “I’m serious, D. Would it be great if Ash liked me the way I like him? Yeah. But that’s not reality.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he likes someone else.”

“Aw, fuck. Sorry, Mike.”

“S’alright. Can’t say I blame him.”

~~~

“You know,” Ashton said to Delilah as they waited for Michael to come back with food for them all. “With Mike, you might have to make the first move.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, c’mon, ‘Lila. You know him better than anybody. You know how shy he can get with stuff like this. Be brave for the both of ya. Make the first move.”

“Waves knock you around a lil too hard there, Ash? You’re talking nonsense.”

“You’re really gonna sit there, and tell me you don’t like Mike?”

“Of course I like Mike. He’s my best friend. But it’s… complicated. There’s a lot of layers that I haven’t figured out. That I don’t think I ever will.”

“You’re telling me…” he muttered under his breath.

Michael approaching with food put an end to the conversation, all three friends sharing a tight lipped smile, more confused than they’d ever been.

~3 Years Later~

Delilah checked the time on her phone, sighing and feeling tears of frustration brim up in her eyes. She had been five minutes early to her date nearly an hour ago. She wasn’t sure which stung more: her messages asking where her date was being left on read, or the look of pity in the waitress’ eyes as Delilah ordered her third glass of wine.

So, rejected, a little tipsy, and unsure of what to do, she called the one person she knew she could always count on.

“Hey ‘Lila,” Ashton’s voice picked up on the second ring that had Delilah feeling even more flustered.

“Oh… H-hey Ash… S-sorry I didn’t mean to call you… um…” she fumbled over her words as she scrambled to hit the end call button.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Aren’t you supposed to be on a date? Are you alright? What’s going on?”

The weight of concern for her in his words was the breaking point. “I got stood up…” she whimpered, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“Okay. Sit tight. I’m coming.”

“Ash-”

“Shh, it’ll be alright. I’m already on my way.”

“You’re heading out?” Calum questioned as Ashton placed Michael’s phone down on the table.

“I have to.”

“No. Mike has to. She called Mike, Ash.”

Ashton narrowed his eyes pointing into the sound booth where Michael and Luke were laying down tracks. “He’s a lil busy at the moment, and she needs someone now. What am I supposed to do? Not go to her?”

“No, of course not. It’s Del. But… Ash, it’s not a secret that things are all a little complicated between you three. I don’t want to see you get hurt because you played hero to her when it was supposed to be Mike.”

“I’m not doing this to swoop in, and take Mike’s hero moment away from him, Cal. She’s my friend too. And she needs somebody. So you really think I’m gonna let you stop me?”

Calum raised his hands in surrender. “Look, I’m only trying to protect you from getting your heart crushed if this doesn’t match up to the fantasy in your head.”

“And I appreciate that. You know I do. But I got this, Cal. Promise.”

“Alright. Go on then, I’ll explain to them what happened when they’re done.”

“Thanks, Cal.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now get out of here already.”

Ashton made it to the restaurant in minutes flat, hitting the ground running. He muttered a few apologies and “excuse me”s as he weaved through the people in his way, before finally spotting Delilah staring dejectedly at her empty glass of wine. He steeled himself from the thoughts swirling in his head about how if this had been their date he’d never dare leave her waiting on him. That wasn’t a road he needed to go down right now. “Hey,” he said softly as he took the seat across from her.

She raised her eyes slowly to look over at him, a tearful smile coming to her lips. “Hey…” she whispered.

“C’mon. Let’s get you out of here.”

“I have to pay my bill… Shoulda stuck with water…”

“That’s alright,” he told her, flagging down a waitress. While Delilah got lost in her mind, Ashton settled the bill in hushed tones. “Okay. C’mon,” he said, resting a hand gently on top of hers to get her attention.

“The bill…” she repeated.

“It’s taken care of. C’mon.” He helped her up from her seat, taking off his jacket to drape it over her shoulders, his fingers brushing against her exposed skin.

“You wanna know something?” she asked numbly as they headed for his car.

“What’s that?”

“If I told you how many times I imagined you rushing in to save the day like this… well… your head would spin. And now that it’s real… my head’s spinning.”

“That might be the wine,” he chuckled lightly, opening the door for her. “And uh… I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“How do you not know? Everyone else does…” she sighed, relaxing against the leather of the seat.

“Everyone else knows what?”

“That I like you.”

In his shock, he closed the car door with more force than he meant to. When he got in on the driver’s side, she was giggling. “What?” he asked nervously.

“Well that was dramatic,” she continued to giggle. “I like you, slam!”

“I- Wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. I thought you still liked Mike.”

Delilah sighed somewhat dreamily, and Ashton’s stomach churned. “Yeah. I like him too.”

“Yeah, I kinda gathered as much. I mean… you did call him, not me. I was just the one who picked up. Still not sure why. I just saw your name and...”

“Had to?” she supplied the rest of his thought.

“Yeah. I mean, it’s you. I wasn’t going to not answer, even if it wasn’t my phone.”

“Just because I like Mike, doesn’t mean I can’t like you too, Ash.”

“Yeah, but it’s different kinds of like.”

“Says who?”

“Says the obvious. You two are the closest, you always have been. And look, I get it. I’m not mad. I get what you see in him, because I see it, too. I just also happen to wish sometimes you saw that in me, too.”

“I do! It’s…” she scrambled to find the words to finally lay this all out on the line.

“Complicated. I know. I remember.” The words came out bitter, and they both hated it. Delilah for not having the words to fix it, and Ashton for the crushed look in her eyes when she was already having a shitty night. He let out a slow sigh, collecting himself. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “We shouldn’t be doing this right now. This is a conversation we can have at a different time. I should be taking you home.”

“No,” she pressed. “I want to have this conversation now. Ash… I like both of you. I’ve liked Mike my entire life, and I’ve liked you since the minute I met you. And… the reason I haven’t been brave enough to do something about it is because I also know that you two like each other. And… I like you guys too much as my friends to ruin the dynamic I guess? When I don’t choose, it’s only me who gets hurt. Because I’d rather have neither of you, than have one and the other feel jealous.”

“Oh… Damn… That adds a whole ‘nother layer to this, doesn’t it?”

“Yep… They don’t have books or movies for how to deal with love triangles like this… this is… uncharted territory.”

“Yep… Well fuck. If all three of us like each other, why don’t we all just date?” Ashton suggested.

“How would that dynamic work?”

“No idea. But, if anyone could figure it out, I’d bet it’d be us.”

“And if Mike doesn’t… Would you and me still…?”

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

“You don’t… feel like that makes us consolation prizes to each other? Like we can’t both have Mike, so we’re settling for each other?”

“Nothing about being with you is me settling for you, ‘Lila. I want you.”

“I want you, too.”

“And we just happen to also want Mike,” Ashton couldn’t help but giggle at the absurdity of it all.

“Do you think he wants us, too? I mean, I know he wants you. I just don’t know if he wants me.”

“Oh, he does. Trust me, he does. Anybody would be stupid not to.” Ashton let out his next breath slowly, running his hands through his hair. “Can I kiss you now?”

“Please,” she breathed, leaning across the center console towards him. He met her in the middle, his fingers gripping lightly on her chin to guide her lips to his, her own hands coming up to cradle his face. “Thanks for coming to get me,” she murmured as they broke the kiss.

“Of course,” he smiled softly. “You hungry?”

“Starving.”

Ashton giggled and started the car. “Alright, we’ll grab some food, and then I’ll take you home.”

“We should get something for Mike, too. He’ll have known by now that I called, and that you came to get me, so he’ll be waiting for us. Right?”

“If he’s done laying down tracks with Luke, yeah. That’s probably a safe bet.”

They fell silent, Delilah finally breaking the silence only after they had picked up food for themselves and Mike. “Hey, Ash?”

“Hmm?” he hummed, reaching out to lower the volume of the radio.

“Are you scared?”

“Terrified,” he nodded. “It’s uh… not every day you tell the girl, and the boy, you’ve been crushing on for years that you’ve been crushing on them for years, with the follow up being if it’s cool if you can all date each other.”

Delilah giggled, “God, this is fuckin’ crazy…”

“100% certifiably nuts,” Ashton giggled with her as he pulled into her driveway, next to Michael’s car and spotting the man waiting for them on the porch. Ashton shut off the car and turned to look at Delilah. “Ready?”

“God, no.”

“It’s Mike. He’s our best friend.”

“I know. But I’m still…”

“Scared? Yeah, me too. His hands grabbed hers, brushing soft kisses across her knuckles. “But I’ll be right here with you. C’mon,” he coaxed.

They left the security of the car, and walked up to where Michael was waiting. He rose slowly to his feet, eyes locking on Ashton and Delilah’s hands that were clasped together. “Oh… I see you two have uh… that’s great. Happy for you guys…” His gaze flickered over to the food bag in Delilah’s other hand. “And I’m intruding, so I’m gonna head out. Glad your night worked out.”

“Mike, wait,” Ashton said, reaching out to stop the younger man. “There’s something we wanted to talk to you about.”

“No offense to either of you right now, cuz I love this for you guys, I really do. But uh… I’m a little tired and hungry from the studio. I just stopped by cuz I saw you had called, D, and wanted to make sure you were okay. And you are. So um… can we save the ‘we’re dating’ conversation for tomorrow?”

Delilah shook the bag of food. “We picked you up something, too. Please, Mikey?”

~~~

“So… let me see if I got this right. In addition to crushing on each other, you both also have a crush on me?” Michael asked, after Ashton and Delilah brought him up to speed.

“Pretty much, yeah,” Delilah nodded, leaning forward to set the now empty take out food container on the coffee table.

Michael looked over at Ashton with a raised eyebrow, “How drunk is she?”

Ashton giggled, while Delilah gaped at Michael and gave him a small shove with an indignant “Hey! I’m not that drunk. Anymore…”

“Well fuck! So we’ve all just been crushing on each other, and swallowing our pride, so nobody gets their feelings hurt except ourselves?”

“Can’t leave out the stupidest part of how all of us at some point encouraged someone to make a move on someone else.”

“Fuck, no wonder Cal and Luke bail on so many plans with us… This shit is infuriating… But now that it’s all cleared up, what do we do? How does this… work exactly?”

“I don’t know… I have enough trouble figuring out how to date one person…” Ashton admitted, making the other two laugh in agreement. “But if anyone can figure it out, it’s us, yeah?”

“Exactly,” Delilah smiled at him, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “We’re all friends first. There isn’t anything we keep from each other.”

“Minus the crushes we all had on each other, that is,” Michael amended. Then, “So… have you guys kissed yet?”

“We did, yeah,” Ashton told him, with a sheepish grin.

“Fuckers…”

“Aw, poor baby,” Delilah teased, leaning towards Michael to press a kiss to his cheek. At the last possible second, Michael turned his head, so her lips locked onto his rather than the intended target of his cheek.

He sighed in content against her lips, tasting the barest traces of wine still leftover, sweet and savory. “Can’t begin to tell you how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” he murmured as they broke apart.

“Well, now you can do it whenever you want,” she smiled.

Ashton cleared his throat. “Still here.”

Michael’s cheeks flushed. “Right. Yeah… erm…”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Ashton groaned, hooking his fingers under Michael’s chin to get them to look at each other. “It’s a kiss, dumbass, not rocket science.”

“Calling your boyfriend a dumbass isn’t very nice of you,” Michael teased lightly.

Ashton shuddered as his lips crushed into Michael’s, “Fuck, say that again.”

“Boyfriend,” Michael grinned against Ashton’s mouth.

“My boyfriends,” Delilah beamed proudly at them.

“Our girlfriend,” they chorused back.

Tag List

@aquarius-hood1996 @creator-appreciator @philthepegacorn @myfavfanficsever @cxddlyash @youngblood199456 @stormrider505 @tarltongrl96 @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @hoodhoran @metalandboybands @maybeememez @major5sosstan

#crush crush crush #michael clifford #michael clifford fic #michael clifford x oc #ashton irwin #ashton irwin fic #ashton irwin x oc #mashton #mashton fic #michael clifford x ashton irwin #poly!mashton #5sos #calpal irwin

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mortalfaerie · 3 years ago

Text

STRANDED IN TIME (M. F.) 1/?

matthew fairchild x lost herondale! reader

y/n herondale seems to get her just deserts when snooping in cirenworth's attic sends her back over 100 years.

You, Y/N Rook - no, Herondale - were having a no-good, very-bad, mind-numbingly-frustrating couple of months.

Dramatic? Maybe. But what else do you call it when your dad gets killed by demons in front of you, your newly orphaned little brother and you get told your nephilim, which you've been raised all your life to scorn, your new friend gets impaled by the reanimated corpse of her ancestor, and then gets turned into a perpetual ghost by your brother and his unrequited crush via necromancy which is, by the way, VERY VERY MAGICALLY ILLEGAL.

Oh, by the way, let's throw in that you can now see ghosts just to spice things up.

Now, you were slowly adjusting to life with your little brother and two victorian not-shadowhunters (but not not shadowhunters, either. It's confusing.) in their equally victorian manor in England. It felt a little like running away when your brother, Kit, told you that he wanted to take up Tessa and Jem on their offer, but hey, running is a Rook speciality.

Tessa and Jem were as hospitable as could be, but you still had a hard time seeing where you were as permanent. Jem directed you and Kit through training every morning, and seeing that you secretly enjoyed reading, Tessa made a habit of slipping a new book under your bedroom door every monday morning. She had a lovely (and very valuable) collection in Cirenworth's library, and amidst her and Kit playing "Read that book/Saw that movie," you had been picking up the slack for your brother and reading the books in question.

This week's book was The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. Perhaps, it was this book that had led you to go poking around in the attic of the manor, in search of some mystical object. There wasn’t much of note so far, save boxes of clothes from decades past, some photos, and a whole lot of dust. You were planning on going back downstairs when a specific box in the corner caught your eye.

It was a steam trunk, the kind that might have been used in past centuries for travel, but something about it drew you over, reaching for the bag identification against on its side.

“Thomas Lightwood, Cirenworth Hall, Devonshire.” The tag read - odd, in that the manor was a Carstairs family holding and had been for over two hundred years, and this trunk certainly didn’t look like it predated it. Unable to fight the curiosity, you tried the lock, finding it had rusted and came off with a snap. Inside, clothes, photographs, and relics of a nephilim life were neatly arranged inside, clearly by someone who cared for their preservation. Fumbling through, your hand made contact with a metallic object at the bottom of the trunk, and you drew it out to find a crystal that sent a shiver down your spine.

You had seen a crystal like this before. It was a memory crystal.

Normally, only a magic user would have been able to activate it, but both you and Kit had been able to activate the Blackthorn one, for reasons you didn't quite understand - something about having royal faerie blood - and so you tentatively turned it over in your hand. You jumped as the room grew dark and the crystal began to glow, projecting its memory on the wall. The crystal must have been damaged, since it skipped and faltered, it's nature distorted. Flashes of scenes jostled for attention - a ball, probably in the early 1900s, and a man with rich carmel skin and blond hair - a laboratory, and a pervasive feeling of panic - demons, heinously large. You struggled to make sense of it all as the crystal grew hot in your hands, like a computer overheating and burning. You abruptly dropped it in reaction, but as it hit the ground, the room went black.

Waking up, your head ached like you'd been concussed, and the sunlight made you begin to wonder if you'd fallen asleep in the gardens and had a strange dream. As you opened your eyes, you groaned with the sting the light caused. You tried to roll over, by found you were abruptly nauseous. Your body convulsed as you vomited your breakfast onto the grass beside you, then collapsing again.

From behind you came a high voice that struck a memory. "Oh, lord. Who are you?"

You squinted at the translucent girl hovering near you. "Jessamine?" you rasped, wondering why she was here.

"Yes, I am she. But who are you, and why are you... sick in my gardens?" she replied, circling you in the air.

"I- please, get help." you moaned, as another wave of nausea hit.

"Oh! Ack!" she cried, and fizzled out.

You desperately wished for Jessamine to swallow her sensibilities and get whoever was near, as you began to shake violently on the ground, abruptly cold and dizzy. A door opened nearby, and two sets of footsteps came rapidly to your crumpled form.

"By the angel..." A man muttered, and you heard Jessamine chime in, "I told you, she knows who I am, but I haven't the faintest clue who she is."

"Nevermind that now, Jessie," he said, by your side now. "She's marked, though I have no idea who she is either."

Another voice joined them, one that caused you to open your eyes and squint at the two looking down at you with worry. "Let's get her into the infirmary. We can call for Charlotte latter and determine her identity, but she looks grievously ill."

You coughed and whined, but managed a shaky question. "Tessa? Tessa, what's happening?"

Clearly, she wasn't expecting this question, and she exchanged a bewildered glance with the man she was with. You noticed for the first time that she wasn't dressed as she normally was - rather, she was wearing a long dress of cotton lawn with her hair twisted up.

"I'll carry her." The man said, and reached for you. Tessa nodded and helped to move you to a sitting position. You whined in pain, and she touched her hand to your forehead in a very motherly gesture.

"Will, she's burning up." was all you heard before the world went black again.

#cassandra clare #the mortal instruments #the infernal devices #the last hours #the dark artifices #the shadowhuter chronicles #mathew fairchild #matthew fairchild x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years ago

Text

Smalltown Bringdown 4

Warnings: blood, violence, noncon (fingering).

This is dark!biker!Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Bucky takes you for a ride.

Note: Okay so it took me a while to finish this one in terms of organizing my ideas and maybe I just think about this stuff too much lol. But it is a little longer than the last two chapters. Now I’m thinking part 5 will be the last but as it happens so often, this story might be slipping beyond by restraints lol. But anyway, enjoy. To those who take the time to read, thank you. Love you guys!

Please, leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Five days in and you couldn’t say you were adjusting, merely closer to acceptance of your hopeless circumstance. That was always easy. In Birch, it was an inevitability that one would settle. There were no grand dreams to be achieved, no underdog story or redemption; there was only monotony and routine. As it was oft said, you were born and then you died.

You were surprised to have the weekend off. Working in a bar, it was expected to work Friday to Saturday; those were the busy days. Your schedule didn’t seem to fit to the necessity of the business though, more its owner. Whenever you were there, he made sure to be there too. He was always there to see you off at the end of the night, though his farewells were briefer than his first.

That night was different. Slightly. He didn’t stick around to watch you from his table. His blue eyes didn’t follow you, his ears didn’t prick up whenever you spoke with a particular customer for too long. He had a single beer then retreated to the back with Steve. Lifelong friends, it was easily assumed that Steve was a natural confidante and a useful intimidator. He’d kept his hands to himself since that first shift, but he was none the subtler.

He emerged only as you were helping wipe down the bar. A ripple of deja vu blurred your vision as he neared the other side. Lucy rubbed her back as she peeked in the kitchen to check on Bobby. You tossed the cloth in the basket under the bar and looked up at your boss. Bucky rested a foot on the bottom rung of a stool as he hooked a thumb in his pocket.

“I’ll give you a ride home,” He said.

“It’s a ten minute walk.” You replied.

Lucy let the door swing behind her and you caught it as you held it open with your foot and opened the closet just inside. You pulled your jacket off the hanger and slung your bag over your shoulder. You turned back and Bucky met you at the end of the bar.

“So it’ll be a quick ride,” He blocked you in. “Or… you can hang around for a little… we can… talk.”

“Fine,” You zipped your jacket up halfway.

He smiled and backed up enough for you to brush past him. He turned and his hand rested on your lower back as he led you to the door. He held it open for you and his hand was quick to dance along your hip. He stopped you before his bike and you watched him approach it.

You stepped away as he straddled it and kicked up the stand. He peeked over his shoulder as he turned the bars and steered it backward out of the spot. He stopped before you and slid the helmet from the handle. He held it out to you.

“Don’t wanna hurt that pretty head of yours,” He winked and you huffed as you accepted the helmet.

You climbed up behind him, careful to touch him as little as possible as you slid the strap through the metal loop. He reached back and squeezed your leg.

“Don’t be shy,” He said. “Or you’ll find yourself in the road.”

You slipped forward on the seat until he was between your thighs and he pulled your arms around him. You let him and stiffened against him. The bike roared as he turned the key and you couldn’t help but hold him tightly. He pulled out of the lot and onto the road, the wind formed a soft tunnel around you.

You were dizzy as he pulled up to your mother’s house, your cheeks raw from cool night air.

“Thanks,” You climbed down and quickly undid the helmet. You held it out to him before he could kill the engine. When he didn’t take it, you hung it on the handle bar. He angled the bars and turned the bike off. He flipped the stand down and dismounted.

You spun away and hurried up your mother’s walk. He followed as you fumbled with your keys. The front door stuck and you rarely went in that way. He came up behind you as you found the right key but he caught your hand before you could reach to the handle. He pressed himself to your back and crushed you against the door.

“What’s the rush?” He purred in your ear. “I don’t even get a good night?”

“Bucky,” You breathed as he pulled on your wrist and turned you around. He wrestled the keys from you and tucked them in his pocket. He set your hand on his shoulder as he kept close.

“You think I do favours for nothing,” His hand went to your waist and slowly crawled along your side.

“You insisted. I would’ve walked.” You argued as you wriggled against him.

“Honey, you know I’m not gonna wait forever,” His finger crept along the front of your jeans. “I’ve waited long enough as it is.”

“Why?” You hissed. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why did you have to be the hero?” He leaned in and nuzzled your hair. “You should’ve kept your mouth shut like you did in school. I never would’ve known you were there but… even with a gun to your face, you had fire in your eyes.” He loosed the button of your fly. “Do you know how fucking hot that is?”

“I… no.” You grabbed his hand and he waved you off as he pushed your zipper down. “No, I was afraid.”

“Maybe,” He said. “But I think you still regretted dropping that knife.”

“Stop,” You fought his hand with yours. “Stop.”

“Don’t make this hard,” His other hand shot to your throat. “I’m hard enough as it is.”

“You’re disgusting,” You snarled.

“You like it,” He laughed under his breath as his finger tugged at the thin elastic of your panties. “A girl like you… such a boring life… you want the excitement, you just don’t know it.”

He shoved his hand in your panties and you pressed yourself to the door. You turned your face from him to hide your shame and he dragged his nose along your temple. His hot breath embraced you as he caressed your vee.

“My mom’s asleep,” You grabbed his wrist. “Please…”

“So we’ll have to be quiet.” His fingers pushed between your folds and your hand dropped to the handle. You tried to turn it helplessly as he held you to the door. “Shhhh.” He hushed you as he began to play with your clit.

You gasped as he sent a chill through you. You hadn’t been touched since that regrettable fling with Alex, the younger mechanic at the local shop. He had been clumsy and selfish. That was a year ago; maybe more. You squeezed the handle and closed your eyes.

“You’re already wet for me,” He whispered. “Honey,” He rubbed his crotch against you, “You got me hard as hell.”

You bit your lip as his fingers sent waves through you. It was hard to resist the peculiar and long-sought sensation. He was right, you were wet and getting wetter by the second. He slid his fingers further back and forced his hand between your legs. He dragged his fingertips back and forth and used your juices to ease his way.

He pushed a finger inside you a felt around. He rocked his hips as he dipped another finger in. He pressed the heel of his hand to your clit and curled his fingers inside of you. You shook your head as your core pulsed. Your thighs quivered and your nails dug into the wood of the door.

“You’re gonna cum for me,” He growled. “Not just now, but tomorrow.” He pressed his cheek to yours as his voice gristled in your ear. “I’m gonna take you for a ride.” His hand moved faster and you gritted your teeth. “Take you somewhere you don’t have to be quiet.”

Your entire body shook as the waves crashed into each other and you pushed your chin up as you came. You stuck your tongue out and you held it between your teeth to keep from crying out. He didn’t stop until you stilled. Until you were panting and weak against the door.

“And if you’re not waiting for me in a nice little dress,” He pulled his hand from your panties. “Then I’ll just have to come in and drag you out.”

He ran his wet fingers along his bottom lip before he slipped them in his mouth and licked them clean. He wiped them on his jeans and reached in his pocket. He took out your keys and held them out.

“You got it, honey?” He shoved the keys into your shaky hand.

“Yes,” You said quietly. “Yes, I understand.”

“Finally,” He smirked as he slowly back away. “I’ll be by at noon.”

💀

Noon, sharp. Bucky rode up as the clock tower chimed a dozen times. You were on the curb waiting for him since quarter to and your mother was conspicuously watching from behind the blinds. She had checked your purse for the mace and made sure it worked. Her eyes were still red from the test.

You wore a pale blue dress beneath a beige jacket, a pair of brown suede boots and a matching purse. You didn’t care if you looked good for Bucky but you also didn’t need him reproaching you for disobeying. You were tiring of that.

The thought of him was infuriating. And something else. The memory of what happened the night before. You refused to look at the front door.

“Hey,” You neared his bike as he waited for you and avoided his gaze. He had two helmets today. You took the one in his hand and he watched you secure it.

“No time to waste, honey,” He revved the bike. “Careful. The exhaust is hot. You don’t wanna burn yourself.”

“Where are we going?” You raised your voice over the loud engine.

“Now what would be the fun in telling you?” He chuckled.

You crossed your arms and made no move to get on. You glared at his taunting smirk.

“Now, I can help you up, honey, but I’m already running late,” His leather glove audibly strained as he gripped his handlebar. “So come on.”

You bit down and rolled your eyes. You reluctantly grabbed his shoulder and swung your leg over. As you sat, you tried to pulled your skirt down to cover your knees on either side of him. It was a fruitless effort.

“Oh,” He turned his head and leaned back against you, “I didn’t mention how sexy you look…” He reached back and touched your leg. “I like the innocent look.”

You scrunched your nose and resisted ripping his hand away from you. You slipped your arms under his and hovered your lips close to him, “Aren’t you running late?” You asked.

He shook his head as he turned forward and growled. You clung to him as he revved the engine again. You almost yelped as he pulled away from your house, the bike ripped through the rush of wind around you. The streets of Birch rushed past you in a blur and soon faded to the metal rails of the highway. You shivered as your bare legs were lashed in the open air. You were thankful to have Bucky’s broad shoulders as shelter.

He slowed as he came to the end of a ramp. He stopped and looked both ways as he awaited his turn. You read the green signs and sighed. You hadn’t been to the city since your failed stint in community college. Well, you hadn’t so much flunked out as busted. You couldn’t afford to live and study at the same time and only one of those was possible without the other.

When he drove up to his destination and the monstrous rumble of the engine subsided, you were greeted by a familiar but unwelcome figure. You got off the bike as you worked at unbuckling your helmet and Steve approached. You peeked over at the hotel doors as Bucky climbed off behind you. You turned and looked between them in confusion.

“Russ isn’t gonna wait forever,” Steve said.

“Only for me,” Bucky smiled as he removed his helmet. He turned and took yours in kind. He slung them over his handlebar carelessly. “I told you I’d be late.”

“She really need to be here?” Steve asked.

“Oh, suck it up,” Bucky warned. “Keep your hands to yourself and she’ll do the same.”

“I’m not afraid of her,” Steve scowled.

“Sure,” Bucky chuckled. “I know.”

“Can I interrupt for one second and ask what the hell is going on?” You said.

“You can and you have,” Bucky looked to you. “But keep that tongue to yourself once we’re in there. Not many of my ilk are so tolerant.”

“Clearly,” You squinted at Steve as he rolled his eyes.

“Just a meeting.” Bucky assured as he pulled his gloves off. “Got some business out east and a lot of hands on the wheel.” He tucked the leather in his pocket. “Look, you don’t gotta worry about specifics. You’ll be with the other gals. They’re friendly but a bit rough around the edges… you’ll fit right in.”

“Like a lamb among wolves,” Steve shook his head.

“I’m starting to think you might be more fit to sit with the ladies as well,” Bucky turned on Steve as he swept his arm around your waist. “Out here telling me I’m late only to waste my time arguing.”

Steve looked away repentantly and waited for Bucky to urge you past him before he followed. He led you through the hotel doors and across the lobby. The hostess at the front desk recognized him and gave a meek smile as she nodded and directed him to the conference room on the sixth floor. The place was nice; upscale even. You’d never suspect a small-time criminal to be strolling across its polished marble. Or yourself, really.

The elevator was silent; tense. You were still trying to figure it out. You’d seen this hotel before, marveled at it on the way to classes you couldn’t afford. You glanced out the corner of your eye at the man who held you close with one arm. At his other shoulder was the dour sidekick who spent his time threatening simpletons in a one-horse town.

What business could they possibly have here?

The doors chimed and opened before you. As you stepped out, Bucky’s arm fell away and he tapped your ass.

“Behave,” He warned. You didn’t miss the gloating grin on Steve’s lips. “You too.” Bucky added sharply and Steve grimaced.

Bucky led you to a set of double doors, a rise of voices on the other side. He opened them and revealed a room of leather-clad goons. They all looked out of place in this room fit for a gala. His hand was on your arm as he was greeted by each man he passed with a nod or a grumble of his name.

Steve followed at his shoulder as he cut through the crowd to the man at the back of the room. The man sat at the head of the gathering as he overlooked them as a king would his subjects. He stood as Bucky approached the other side of his table. There was no deference between them, merely recognition.

“Russ,” Bucky greeted and held out his hand. The man with the greying red beard stood and took it. They shook firmly.

“Buck,” Russ returned. “Not often you’re late but…” He glanced at you, “Think I understand now.”

“Well, we shouldn’t waste any more time, should we?” Bucky straightened up. “We got a bit of shit show up east, don’t we?”

“That we do,” Russ nodded and sat back down. The man to his right rose and offered his seat to Bucky. “I got Oslo on his way already. He’s scoutin’ the scene.”

“Mmm,” Bucky squeezed your arm and excused himself with a finger. “Honey, why don’t you go say hi to Chyka?” He pointed over your shoulder.

You blinked at him and looked between him and Russ. It dawned on you what this was. He was showing you his power; his pull. That he wasn’t just the man in Birch, he was the man all over. You nodded and slowly pulled away. As you turned, his hand lingered on yours as if to draw you back but he let you go.

Your nostrils flared as you crossed to the group of women. They were just as fond of leather as the men; vests, skirts, boots. You neared and tried to shrug away your nerves. You tucked your hands in your jacket pockets and planted your feet.

“Chyka?” You asked.

The woman quieted as they looked over at you. The last to turn her head had black hair and a large crooked nose. She had a unique beauty to her, a rough type of elegance. She leaned back on the long sofa and crossed her legs. She looked you up and down.

“Ah, and who are you?” She asked with a sneer.

You gave her your name and peeked over your shoulder. Bucky was sat beside Russ and already in deep conversation. You couldn’t expect him to hold your hand. Perhaps if you blew it, he’d leave you be.

“And what brings you round here?” She raised an arched brow. “Girl like you doesn’t seem the type.”

“I came from Birch,” You said indifferently. “To see the city.”

She scoffed and tilted her head. “To see the city? You with Steve then? He does have peculiar tastes.”

“No,” You answered and kept from fidgeting.

“Bucky?” A woman with stringy blonde hair perked up.

You nodded. “Sure. Guess you could say I’m with him.”

“Well, I’ll be,” Chyka smiled. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

Your brow wrinkled at her reaction and you looked around the half circle of women. “This seat taken?” You pointed to a velvet chair.

“Girl, you come in here on his arm, no chair in here is taken,” Chyka mused. “Come on,” She waved away the stringy blonde beside her, “Sit. Next to me.”

“It’s fine, I don’t wanna--”

“Danielle’s fine,” She insisted. “She was just gonna grab us some drinks, weren’t you?”

“Sure,” Danielle stood and sidestepped you. “Beer or--”

“What’ll you have?” Chyka asked you pointedly.

“Water,” You replied.

“We don’t got water,” Chyka pointed to the cushion next to her.

“Whatever you’re having then,” You sat and shrugged.

“Beer’s fine, Dani,” Chyka dismissed the other woman and those around her looked to each other and whispered in their own conversations. You could sense their lingering attention. “Course he would bring a girl with an attitude and a half.”

You narrowed your eyes at her. “You know my name. It’s not girl.” You retorted.

“Oh,” She smiled. “Well, then…” She swayed her legs and peered over at the men. “Well, I’m Russ’ woman so we’ll be getting to know each other well. If you last long at all.”

“If ,indeed,” You grumbled and checked the time on your phone. “Suppose I’ll have to put up with you.”

“I like you, g--” She stopped herself and used your name instead.

“Hmm,” You leaned on the arm and looked around. You never thought you’d miss Birch.

“Do you know who Russ is?” She nudged you. “Who your man is?”

“My man?” You turned to her.

“This…” She spun her finger around, “Is a club meeting and our men run these things. You understand?”

“Sure,” You replied dully. “Place like Birch is small, easy--”

“Birch is nothing compared to the rest of it,” She interjected. “He don’t just run Birch.”

You blinked at her.

“He could have this entire city in his pocket.” She continued. “You see, when Russ made his grab, it was Bucky who helped him close his fist.” Danielle returned and offered you a bottle. You accepted it but did not drink. “The boys from Birch aren’t to be challenged; not here, not anywhere. Excuse the pun, but Birch is a twig among branches in the scheme of things.”

“Oh yeah?” You rubbed your thumb over the label. “Should I be impressed then? By you? Him?”

She laughed again and drank from her beer. “You should be aware…” She intoned. “I never seen a woman walk in here with that man,” She gestured with the neck of her bottle towards the head table. “And you always see that man when he walks in a room.”

You followed her gaze to Bucky and your thoughts began to storm. You sat back and lowered your eyes as you slowly turned the bottle in your hand. This wasn’t just a show of power, this was a very clear message; he wasn’t going to just go away.

#smalltown bringdown #Bucky Barnes #biker!bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #biker!bucky barnes x reader #biker au #series #fic #au #mcu #marvel #captain america #dark fic #dark!fic

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grim-faux · 4 years ago

Text

10_This Distorted Mirror

First

Boiling snarls rolled through the walls, filling dark spaces with eyes and more teeth than he thought possible for one mouth alone. His senses were under assault from the heated dust and electrical sizzling through his sinuses. Behind him, the glass screen creaked as the walls quaked. It didn’t matter.

None of it mattered.

If he got trapped here, or crushed, or ripped inside out. Nothing mattered.

With the last reserves of strength remaining in his body, he stole a breath and snapped, “HEY!” It carried across the chasm, rippling across the contorted walls.

The dressy figure below twitched, a sight that made him feel quite smug.

Enraged, the walls twisted and coiled inward. The echoes of the dark hissed at him, but he didn’t understand. It insisted and promised something unpleasant, but he didn’t care. It couldn’t do anything to him, because he wouldn’t let it.

“Go,” the Thin Man insisted.

Mono shook his head fervently. “Here! HERE!” He inched to the edge of the sheer cut of the bridge. “Stay with!” He didn’t hear what the man in the hat said, the walls collapsed and a chunk nearly crumbled over on top of him.

He couldn’t bear the chatter and sinister gargling, couldn’t stand failure again. “Here! WITH!” He yowled. “Then stay with!”

Don’t fall! He climbed onto the shattered stones and tilted forward. “HAI!”

Don’t let go! He dropped his head into his hands.

The thunder shriek was so loud, its flash brighter than an eruption. It cleaved through the air and the world went white, his skin and ears buzzed. The rusted platform came out from under his feet and suddenly he didn’t know where he was, his coat swooped around his sides. He couldn’t see. What happened? The floor was gone, he kept falling.

And falling.

Through the white and heat came oblivion. And for an instant he didn’t know who he was, let alone where.

The world crashed back together all at once – the rain, another blast of lightening, falling fast and faster, then an explosion. For certain this was going to kill him, he knew. His body would shatter, he’d be crushed. Then he’s enveloped in dark.

Suffocating, encompassing, darkness. Indifferent and ruthless. In a way it’s comforting, but he was well aware how deceptive solace could be.

Mud clung to his pants and coat tail, causing the fabric to slap against his shins. The two of them hurtled toward the gaping doorway, leaves and grass swishing against their ankles. Cover! Cover! Cover-cover-cover- cover-cover- cover-cover- cover-cover- cover-cover- cover-cover-COVER!

A dull clunk churned through the night, the glean of light flashed as the aim steadied. In his mind, Mono was counting down to when the finger would snag the lever. He reached to his side and heaved her forward, right as the illumination accused them of all their crimes.

The world filled with white and the acrid sting of cinder.

They tumbled through the door and found a dead end. It was a shack with four walls, some metal and sodden lumber set around, and a lone crate. He breathed hard on the earthy air, eyes flicking to the window – barricaded tight. They could reach it, but it wouldn’t matter.

She latched the door. The pin gave a grating chirp, and no sooner than that was done, the Hunter collided with the brittle wood. It wouldn’t hold long, he was hounding and kicking from the other side. She held the latch, though all the good that would do.

He snapped back around, once more checking the window. Against the sill hung a thunder maker. Gun. A trick! But fast! The Hunter comes through door. Splinters shoot off, the timber splints and grins inward. It doesn’t matter that the toothy jaws chew his shoulder, nothing stops him.

Mono clambered onto the crate and leapt, nearly missing the barrel of the weapon. His fingers catch the dusty metal and he hangs, kicking his feet. When it popped loose, he lost his grip and toppled backwards. He lay sprawled for several seconds, head aching and vision spinning. Nearby, something was grating. It wasn’t the door.

The girl. She swung the barrel around and hoisted it against her knees, though stand is all she can manage. She looked back at him. The Hunter will come. His one arm burst through the panel, scrabbling for the handle. When he gets in, they will both die. It was to the point and matter of fact.

Mono dashed to her side and helped steady the weighted weapon - level it. Trigger, pull the trigger. The trigger is old and worn, nearly rusted. He gripped the lever and pulled with all his might, it creaked—

Ringing. Sounds gone. There’s nothing but the vibration in the air, an eerie stillness of the world blinking out of existence, and it all being misaligned. It reminded him of this hall and a… a doorway. A long winding corridor, twisting and vibrating. He kept dreaming of this place he knew so well, but couldn’t grasp a source of where. It brought sensations of pain and screeching, something inside demanding attention. Calling out. Calling to him.

Unsteadily, sounds return piece by piece. The shock persisted to pulse through his bones, while rain rustled through the wind. Creaking wood, beneath his own muscles trying to wean off the tremors. It’s dark, oh so dark. The smoke hung heavy on the air, in his clothing – he hates it. It made his breath quicken, alerts go off in his head. Move. Move. He’s so tired, mangled and jarred, but he fought to pry one eye open and saw that it was not so dark as he expected. There’s light from somewhere, and it sliced through his memories.

He had to forcefully unlock his fingers. They ached miserably from clenching tight onto coarse fabric, but given a moment, he realized he wasn’t tucked into his own coat. As fate demanded, his clothing shall remain soaked through. It was some meek blessing he wasn’t frozen and numbed to the core. On this recognition his head snapped up, and he had to restrain every fiber of his being to not recoil or make a sound. He was strewn across a forearm….

The man in the hat. The Thin Man! He was caught! How caught?! When did that happen? HOW?! He remembered nothing! Him caught! NO!

No. Be still. Stay calm. Something is wrong here, that is apparent. The Thin Man… he doesn’t stir. Why?

The floor disintegrated. He fell. The thunder BOOMED right through him! It lit his whole body on fire! He was falling. The world vanished in a scorching blaze, and suddenly he was… in open air. And then…. Then what? He couldn’t remember. Noise. Sleet. Speed – faster and faster still. Terror. Explosion. Then dark. Everything was quiet. And dark.

Like the shack when the gun exploded.

Did trick the Thin Man? No. Sleep. Mono tipped his head. Man in the hat sleeps.

Sleeps?

Get away! Get Away! Get away! Get Away! Getaway! GetAway!Getaway!GetAway!

In blind panic Mono lunged over the sleeve, losing his footing when he came down and tumbled head over heels. He scrambled to his feet, dashing well out of reach. He didn’t stop until he nearly collided with a section of wrecked furniture, and huddled within a mesh of filthy fabric among stuffing. The Thin Man remained motionless.

Can sleep? Why sleep! Is caught or not caught! Why is he not hurt?

Mono quickly checked his own self over with a sufficient patting and fumbles of his coat, verifying he was indeed in one piece, no breaks or tears. There was some bruising and tenderness, but he did hit some knots on the train. Even his paper bag survived the crash.

Crash…?

He returned the paper bag to its rightful place on his head, and then examined his… captor more carefully. The complete picture wasn’t there, but snippets and sensations resurfaced. Like the smoke, or the electrical burning, when the flash seared the sky. They both fell. Why?

Everything shook. Falling. Explosion. It hurt him enough he had to sleep. The Thin Man too. He was hurt?

Mono climbed up onto the remnants of the sofa and teetered on the broken frame. He adjusted his footing and turned to the shattered window. The bits of plank remaining hung askew, the rain poured through the yawning portal. He could… barely make out the underside of the train carts through the fog, way �� way up above. This is confusing. It was such a great distance from the train, to here. That should have shattered him, like the window. He’s not hurt. But the Thin Man. The Thin Man is hurt.

He didn’t do this. He wanted to run, and find the Six. He just wanted Six. See her safe.

Did man in the hat… trick self?

He repositioned himself on his perch and peered at the tall thin man. No inch of the figure moved, save for a faint distortion of his outline. The Thin Man lay partially slumped over and his hat drawn forward, concealing his face. He didn’t think the man in the hat needed to see him, if wanted to catch. At any rate, he didn’t like any of this. In the least, it didn’t seem like he was faking or trying to lure him. What point would there be, if he was already caught?

He couldn’t wrap his mind around this. Sleep. Hurt sleep. The Thin Man may not rouse or know anything, for a while. It still wasn’t safe. This puzzling could be a more sinister trap.

Cautious and quiet, he slid down the ruined sofa and crept across the floor. The window was no good, and there was no way to reach the sill. At the other side of the room awaited an open doorway, natural light swimming through the gloom.

As he inched by the Thin Man, he kept a portion of his attention locked on the broken figure. The drum of electricity was almost tolerable, he didn’t know if this meant the adult was dormant or what it meant. This was dangerous. Something was very wrong. He was helped, but why? How did this help the Thin Man? The only reason an adult might help, was to gain something – or take something. He stole Her. But… then got hurt trying to catch him.

Yes. That’s what happened.

Mono hesitated in the doorway and looked back, adjusting his paper mask so he could catch a glimpse of the tall thin man. He wished he tricked him. Wanted to trick him. But that felt… bad.

Once more, he skimmed the room over and its woe of trauma. The ruined window, the demolished sofa, and the caved-in wall behind the Thin Man. In all of that, he couldn’t believe he didn’t have a scratch on him. How did he survive that?

It wasn’t safe. Whatever the Thin Man intended or planned, it was dangerous. He had to get away, and stay away.

The walls lurched, the eyes gleamed with an unknown intent. The gaze bore down on the child, locked behind the screen. It promised, it beckoned, and coaxed. But the boy didn’t understand what it could offer.

When he already lost everything it couldn’t give.

…………………………..TuNe tHe TRanSMiSsion…............…………………..

Mono threw his arms out and instant, brilliant pain sliced through his skull. The blazing odor of dust became electric and vaporous. As abrupt as the agony asserted itself, it evaporated in the next second.

Dully, he realized he’d toppled over the edge of the bridge. That strength he had was gone, the resolve decimated. Once more the dark and all its shadows claimed him as their own.

The thousands and millions of eyes watched. There was no where to go, no place to turn to which would shelter him. This was what he always sought, the answers to his questions. This was what lay at the end of the long, twisted hall.

When he awoke, a chair was waiting for him. It was a sturdy, unassuming piece of furniture, but nonetheless it waited for him. Somehow, that was very comforting. It was nice to be needed.

He should sit and wait. He didn’t know what he should wait for, but in time, the answers would come.

#little nightmares #fanfic #fanfiction #little nightmares fanfic #little nightmares fanfiction #mono #the thin man #the man in the hat #the thinmn #the tall thin man

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prolestariwrites · 4 years ago

Photo

Open For Me [4]

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Vergil/Reader Tags: Explicit sexual content, First time, First love, Violence, Death, Implied dubcon, Implied drug-induced sex Rating: M Part: 4 of 5

Summary: Vergil's life has been difficult as far back as he can remember, until he meets a young woman who saves his life. Can she save it again when he learns the truth of who he is, and bring him back from a dark and dangerous fate? A five-part story of pre- and post-canon Vergil.

A/N: Content warning for dubcon and drug reference.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Oh but that's the irony, broken people are not fragile. —Clinton Sammy Jr.

Vergil scowls as he walks down the street, pulling his hood up over his head. The day is warm and sunny, the streets of Fortuna crowded as people go about their business. But he does not enjoy the weather or appreciate the peaceful atmosphere. Instead, he stalks forward, trying not to be noticed as he heads back towards the inn. He ignores the people that walk by, uncaring that any might or might not offer a glance. Vergil has spent his life trying to be invisible; this is proving to be a help now, when he wants to be alone.

Lost in thought, he only glances up to check street signs as he maneuvers through the center of the town. His hand slips into his pocket to wrap around the piece of paper inside with Arkham's number, knowing that he is waiting for his call. Something about that makes his blood boil; he imagines Arkham's smug look when Vergil confirms that yes, everything he told him has been proven true. His father, Sparda, had been a powerful lord in this region, and now revered as a god among these people, who call themselves the Order.

He had spent much of the past two days visiting the holy sites and prowling through the library, looking at statues and walking through the museum. Fortuna is a mix of religion and government, with the legend of Sparda at the heart of it all. Vergil had stared up at one particularly large monument to Sparda, frowning as he tried to remember his father's face. He certainly hadn't had the two huge horns that jutted out from his brow and twisted downwards.

Vergil finds the entire thing strange, to be honest. He is proud to know his father had such an impact and was still revered to this day, even though he hadn't been seen in Fortuna for hundreds of years. But it only opens more questions, like what he had been doing when he had met Eva, why he had left, and where he is now.

He reaches the Fortuna Inn but hesitates in the lobby. Vergil doesn't want to go upstairs and be forced to make his phone call, so he takes a quick detour to the little bar off to the side. He sits in the last stool and orders a brandy when the bartender places a napkin in front of him. The dark liquid tastes good despite the little burn, and Vergil sags, bowing his head.

Vergil stares at his hands, a feeling of cold washing over him. The skin is itchy and raw from soap; he had taken to washing them obsessively in the past week, ever since he had killed Nell Goldstein.

Not Nell. That human. Easier to think that way, not a person with a life and a family that calls to check on her and a girl at home with school the next day. Just a person, a thing standing in the way of his answers and hurling accusations, that hides the truth of his past and favors his brother. The most annoying thing about humans is how dirty they are, filled with blood that is hard to get out of fabric. There were stains on the cuffs of his jacket that took hours of scrubbing to be rid of, and his hands smelled of gasoline for days. No matter how much soap and hot water he used, Vergil could not get rid of it all, which is why he had not gone home to you after leaving Red Grave City.

He thinks of you now as he finishes off his drink, wondering what you are doing, wondering if you're worried or angry or noticed him gone at all. He fiddles with the change in his pocket for a moment, considering a call. Is he ready to answer your questions? Definitely not.

Someone slips into the stool next to him before he notices, his eyes snapping up when a flirtatious voice says, "Hello, sir."

Vergil frowns. She is wearing a very old-fashioned dress the color of strawberries, but her face is covered with a white shawl. "Not interested," he huffs.

"I'm sorry." She pulls the covering away, revealing dark blonde hair and dark eyes. Her smile is sweet, but curious, and to his annoyance she leans in. "I should introduce myself."

"Don't bother." He leans back a bit and signals the bartender.

The drink arrives and the woman slides a bill across the counter. "It's on me," she murmurs, her eyes glancing his way through the thick lashes.

If she wants to waste her money, fine. Vergil picks up the drink and takes a sip, but when he lowers his hand she plucks it from him and sets it on the counter. "Now that we're friends, shall we get better acquainted?"

"I don't know who you are—"

"But I know who you are." She tilts her head and smiles almost shyly, and Vergil frowns. Her hand presses to his forearm, and she stretches towards him until her lips are next to his ear. "Son of Sparda."

Vergil jerks backward, his mouth popping open in shock. "How do you—"

"I could tell as soon as I saw you in the street." She smiles again, rubbing her thumb against the fabric of his coat. "We have been waiting for our lord's return for centuries. Do you suppose your presence in this city would go unnoticed?"

"Who's 'we'?" Vergil growls. "The Order?"

"No," she laughs with a toss of her hair. "Those men are fools who play with things they could never understand. May the fates help us if they got their hands on any actual power." Her other hand now presses to his thigh, and Vergil stiffens as he looks down to see her fingers massaging his leg. "But there are some of us who are the true believers. The true disciples of Sparda."

Vergil presses his lips together tightly. "What is it you want?"

She eases back on her chair, sitting prettily. "Finish your drink. Then we can go somewhere private so I can explain everything."

With a nod he reaches for his glass, drinking the last of the brandy with one gulp. The woman slides from her stool and Vergil follows suit, walking through the bar and into the lobby, towards the elevator. They ride together upwards, and he takes the time to examine her closely. The woman stares straight ahead, her face serene. She is beautiful certainly, but Vergil can't help in that moment but to think of you, and what you would say knowing he is taking her back to his room. It's just to talk, he thinks, but his vision starts to swim a bit as a sweat breaks out on his brow.

The elevator stops with a jolt that makes him stumble. "This way," Vergil says, leading her towards his room. He feels lightheaded now, and after fumbling with the key he is grateful when they are inside. Quickly he removes his coat and goes to the thermostat, adjusting the temperature so the room is blasted with cold. His stomach turns in the stale air, and Vergil sits heavily in the lone chair in the room.

The woman watches him closely, standing by the door with her hands clasped. "Say your business and go," he rasps, finding it hard to breathe.

"Are you alright?" she murmurs. The woman steps closer, and as Vergil watches his vision goes double.

Two hands press to his face, and Vergil sighs. He knows that touch, and he presses into one palm as the fingers stroke his cheek. "I've missed you," he admits. "There's so much I wanted to tell you. But I was afraid."

"Tell me now," you whisper.

Your voice is different, but Vergil barely notices. He tilts his face up and feels the brush of cool lips against his feverish ones.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Vergil wakes with a gasp. His brow is drenched with sweat that drips into his eyes and his heart pounds too fast. Immediately his stomach turns, and he rolls from the bed and stumbles towards the washroom. He barely makes it before he collapses over the toilet, emptying the contents of his stomach until there is nothing but cramps remaining.

He sits back against the wall to catch his breath, pressing a hand to his forehead. Never once has been sick in his life: no colds, no flu, no childhood chickenpox. This is the first time he has ever vomited, and it leaves him shaking and confused. How much did he have to drink?

Cautiously he pushes himself to stand, holding steady to the sink as he waits for his legs to stop shaking. Once he is sure he can move he rinses his mouth and splashes cool water on his face. His skin feels hot and tight, and he tries to remember when he started to feel sick. He is in Fortuna, Vergil is certain of that much, and had returned to the inn to call Arkham. Did he do that yet? Was that yesterday?

Vergil walks back to the bedroom and stops. The room is in disarray, the bedsheets pulled from the mattress as if he had been thrashing in his sleep. The drawers are open, as well as the closet door, even his coat in a heap on the floor; then when he looks down, he realizes he is naked. None of this makes sense: he prefers the room to be neat, things put away. And he would never sleep without clothes, unless it is after a night of lovemaking with you, holding your body close against his.

Was he robbed? Was someone here? How is this possible?

He swallows thickly as his eyes fall on Yamato sitting on the desk. Quickly he moves to dress and gather his things, ignoring the nausea that still threatens as he shoves clothes into his bag and checks that Arkham's number is still in his coat pocket. Once he is ready Vergil leaves, knowing that whatever has happened to him in Fortuna, it is not anything he wants to revisit again.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

When the door of your apartment opens, you nearly drop your coffee. "Vergil?" you gasp, and when he walks inside you give a cry and run to him, throwing your arms around his shoulders.

Seeing him is overwhelming, and for a minute or two you squeeze him close, afraid this is a dream, or he will disappear as suddenly as he had before. You press your face to his neck, breathing him in, his hair a bit longer as you drag your fingers through the strands, his frame feeling a bit thinner. Vergil stands stiffly for a long moment before his arm wraps around you cautiously, and a fresh wave of tears fall when he begins to relax in your arms.

"Where have you been?" you whisper. "You've been gone for weeks, no word, where…? What…?"

There are so many questions, but his mouth falls on yours and they fall away. He walks you backward, the thud of his bag dropping to the floor and the clang of the sword echoing in the apartment. He kisses you furiously, like a dying man who has found water, until you reach the bed and he climbs over you.

His hands are hot and insistent as they pull at your clothes, and you are the same, a fire igniting at having him back, and here in your arms. Soon you are both naked and he is grinding against you, his cock thick and familiar as it presses against your thigh. Vergil sucks on a nipple as you arch into him, and he drags his fingers along your thigh until he grabs your backside, yanking you upwards so your sex is flush with his. He enters you slowly, as if savoring the act, finding your mouth and covering it with his. "Open," he gasps, jerking his hips. "Open for me."

You obey. How can you not? The pace is brutal, your cries met with each snap of his hips. You dig your fingers into his shoulders, a tear sliding down your cheek as you cling to him. Vergil puffs against your shoulder, driving his cock into you as if chasing something, or running, you can't tell which.

Your legs wrap around him as his arms wrap around your back, and together you move as if two halves of a perfect whole. When his lips suck on your neck his cock hits a spot inside your body that has you shaking, and suddenly your orgasm crests, the coil inside snapping and making you arch with a cry. Vergil is relentless, fucking you hard, and as your arms fall away weakly he lifts himself on his palms to pump his hips. You watch in a mixture of awe and surrender as his body works over yours, his face twisted in passion, his muscles tight and straining. When he comes, his chokes out a curse, and you tighten around his cock, welcoming the hot rush of seed that fills you.

Vergil hangs his head, panting, and you reach up to cup his face. Usually he'll press into your touch, kissing the heel of your hand or leaving a little love bite. But this time he almost shrinks away from you, moving off quickly to leave you laying on the bed as he sits on the edge and grabs his pants.

You sit up, sliding to lay your hands on his back. Vergil stills, and you press a kiss between his shoulder blades. "Vergil?" you say quietly, your voice shaking a bit. "Can you tell me what's going on? Where you've been?" He doesn't answer, and you lean your forehead to his back, tense under your touch. "I don't know what you're doing, but I can help… or at least understand… I've missed you, and there's so much I've wanted to tell you…"

He sucks in a breath and stands, and you blink up at him, startled. "You wouldn't understand," he says without looking. "Do not ask."

The blood drains from your face as you watch him open a drawer, pulling out a fresh shirt. "No, Vergil," you say through gritted teeth. You pull the bedsheet around your body as he glances over, and anger flares sudden and hot. "You can't do this!" you cry. "You can't leave for weeks and come back and… and just expect me to be okay with this!"

"I'm not expecting that," he says coolly.

"Tell me where the fuck you've been!" you shout. He ignores you and moves to the closet, and you jump up, following him and grabbing his arm. "Don't ignore me, god damn it! I love you!"

Vergil swallows, but does not meet your furious gaze. "That is your mistake, not mine."

Your eyes burn as a sob catches in your throat. "So that, just now… that was nothing? I'm nothing to you?"

"I didn't say that."

"Then what are you saying?"

Vergil huffs an impatient breath. "It's too complicated to explain. I'm—"

But you aren't listening, because now that you are examining him you pull down the collar of his shirt, your eyes widening at the mark on his neck. "What is that?" you hiss, feeling lightheaded. "Who did that? Are you cheating on me?"

Vergil jerks away as if burned, stepping around you. "I need to go."

"No!" Nearly wild now, you grab his arm and tug hard. He tries to shrug you off, but you hold tightly, gripping his shirt to hold him tightly. "Tell me the truth!"

Vergil's expression is furious when he looks down at you, and you dig your fingers into his shirt in response. "Ever since you met that Arkham, and you got that fucking sword… you've changed, Vergil! You lied to me about your past, and won't tell me where you're going, and you…" Your hand slides down his chest before pressing to his stomach, and you remember the wounds he had that night he came home late, and how they had seemed to heal before your eyes. "What are you?" you whisper, blinking back tears.

Your eyes slowly lift to his face. Instead of fury or hurt or the love you've always seen behind his eyes, he looks at you without emotion. "You would cry over me?" he says, but his tone is sharp. "Over a prince of demons?"

"What?" you gasp, shaking your head.

He rounds on you, walking slowly and forcing you back. "There are things you cannot begin to understand. Things a human like you could not comprehend. I have found my destiny, and your tears will not stop me from taking what is mine."

Your legs bump against the bed, and you press your hands to his chest to keep yourself from falling. "Vergil…? What…" It's all so confusing, your mind spinning with his words. It makes no sense, but all you can see is the coldness in his expression and the memory of those wounds.

"I need strength. Power. And you are weak." He lifts his chin and a shiver goes through you. "This is for the best. Perhaps one day you'll understand, although I doubt it, a human like you."

He steps away, and you watch in shock as he packs his bag, stunned into silence. Vergil walks to the door and pulls on his coat before slinging his bag on his shoulder. When he leans down to pick up his sword, you find your voice, and call his name. "Vergil…?"

It comes out as an odd twist, and for a split second, you can tell that he hesitates. But he does not turn around and leaves the apartment, the door shutting with a firm slam behind him.

#dmc #devil may cry #dmc vergil #vergil sparda #vergil x reader #fan fiction #open for me #one more to go

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vintage-story-time · 4 years ago

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SPYING ON MOM by Donna Allen

CHAPTER ONE

"You look hypnotized," Pat said.

She smiled at him. He was damn cute. He was also very young. She had picked him up in a fast-food joint near the office. She'd had her eye on him for weeks and now here she was with him in a motel room, her tits uncovered to his hot eyes, his cock out of his pants, big and swollen and his prick-tip dripping. This was just what she was in the mood for after a hard day selling real estate. A randy young stud with an

athletic body and an eager cock.

She had been right about him. He had a big prick. It was always a guess, of course. You couldn't tell just by looking at a man what he had down there. She'd been fooled too many times. But it was nice when she guessed right.

She licked a cock to be thick around. That was more important than how long it was. She licked a thick cock and big nuts. She hadn't seen his nuts yet. If he had balls to match that prick, she'd have nothing to complain about. She never complained about decent equipment. The equipment was more important than the face or the brain. Screw the face and the brain, what she wanted and needed was a working cock!

And that's what he's got, she thought. She held her tits in her hands. Her blouse was off and her bra was off and she held her tits on her palms and bounced them a bit. She had nice tits, heavy enough to be low-slung. There was a time, years ago, when she'd bounced them around as a dancer in a club.

All that was over, now. She had a successful career as a real-estate broker. She also had a ten-year-old divorce and a teenaged son about the same age as this young man.

It's four o'clock in the afternoon and I'm as

horny as an alley cat, she thought..

Was she overdoing it? She didn't think so. The illusions she'd had as a girl had been replaced by a keen sense of reality. That was why she had made a success selling real estate. She knew there were only two things important in the world: money and sex. She wanted both. She wanted all she could have..

She smiled at the guy again. His name was Wade. Kneeling down in front of him, she leaned forward and pressed her tits against his upright cock. His prick felt warm in the valley between her tits.

"Nice?"

"Oh yeah!" he said.

"You've been looking at my tits ever since we met. Now you've got them around your cock."

"That's right."

She didn't want to ask him how often he had a woman old enough to be his mother come on to him. She didn't care. There were thousands of women out there who wouldn't mind taking her place. They wouldn't mind having a hot young cock on fire between their tits.

She pulled away. "Let's get the rest of your clothes off, okay?"

"Sure, Patricia."

"Call me Pat." "Okay, Pat."

"Let's have a look at you."

She could tell he was nervous. His fingers were fumbling as she helped him undress. But he had nothing to be shy about. He had a delicious body, big shoulders, all the muscles, everything she liked. And the equipment. Big cock and big balls. There was enough fuckmeat there to make a girl quiver. What a hunger she had for young men! What a shameless hedonist she was!

I love it! she thought. She could feel the anticipation tying knots in her belly.

"What do you do?" she said. "You must do something athletic. With a body like this."

He shrugged. "I played some football in high school."

"Did you finish school?"

"I dropped out."

"You ought to go back."

He looked at her as if she was crazy. "What do you want to talk about that for?"

"Yes, you're right."

She moved close to him and kissed his lips. She ran her fingertips along the underside of his cock and then dropped her hand to cup his balls in her palm.

"I like your body," she said. "I like what you've got down here."

After that, she dropped to her knees. She wanted a taste of him. That juicy pink fuckknob. They were all different. When she'd been a girl, she'd been obsessed with cocks. All that sucking she did in high school. She'd been careful not to be too promiscuous. Her father would have killed her if he'd known what was going on. She had to get married early. She had to in order to save her sanity. So what if it didn't last? She had come through it all right, hadn't she? She had a grown son. She had her own business. She had this well-hung guy to ball for the next few hours. She had nothing to be sorry for.

She started licking his cock. Up and down with the flat of her tongue, sniffing and licking, and then at times moving underneath to lick his ball-bag. A man she once knew had told her she was a very oral woman. He was right. She enjoyed using her mouth. She enjoyed the feel of a cock between her lips. What she was doing now was postponing the pleasure of it. It also gave her a chance to smell him. She loved the sweaty smell in a man's crotch.

God, his balls were lovely! Like two walnuts in a pink leather pouch. And above the bag, his thick cock straining to hit his belly. She gave a last fuck from his balls up along the underside of his cockshaft to the tip of his prick. He shuddered. That was nice. She liked to make them shudder.

Holding his nuts in her palm, she closed her fingers around the upper part of his ball-bag and pulled his ball sac. Then she ran her lips over his cockhead and took it in. His fat juicy fuck knob in her mouth. He groaned. She swirled her tongue around and wound his cockhead. She rubbed her tongue-tip back and forth over his piss-hole.

He'll remember me, she thought. She wouldn't see him again. She never saw them after the first time. But like the others, he'd remember her-that gorgeous blonde who picked him up and gave him a time in a motel room.

She sucked on his prick. Of course, he liked it, but she always thought she was the one who enjoyed it more. Any woman who didn't like a cock in her mouth was either crazy or a liar. Even some lesbians liked it. She knew one did. Josie West, the girl she'd worked with years ago. They still talked on the telephone on occasion.

Josie always claimed the only thing a man was good for was a bank account and a cock to suck.

She took more of the guy's prick in her mouth, down to about half the length of his cockshaft. She knew he wanted more, but she stopped there and pulled back and let his fuckknob drop out.

"Nice," she said. "Do you like it?"

The guy groaned. "You know it!"

She looked up at him and smiled. It turned her on to see the pleasure in his eyes. He was hot for her. Of course, in the state he was in, he would take almost any woman, but she was the one who had him. And she'd get hers, too. She always made sure of that. You had to prod them when they were as young as this, but she would make sure to get hers.

She knew some people thought she was a determined woman. Maybe she was. She was determined to do more with her life than dream. She wanted too much.

What she wanted now was a mouthful of jism. Holding his cockhead between her lips, she stroked his fat cock with her fingers. It didn't take long. He was caught by surprise. He was already on the edge because of his excitement, and in a moment she had him spurting his load in her mouth.

He groaned as he came. "Jesus, what did you do that for?"

"To calm you down. And because I like it. Sit down and rest while I get my clothes off."

She finished undressing. Now the rush was over and she could begin to enjoy the sex the way she liked to enjoy it. She hated rushing things. They were always so hungry for it. That was the only real disadvantage they had. An older man knew enough to take his time. A teenaged guy was like a young bull in a china shop.

She gave him a show. As her tits wobbled around, she could see the heat in his eyes. She knew she had a great body. A solid round ass and long shapely legs. Heavy tits with prominent pink nipples. Some of them always went crazy over her tits. Her tits looked ordinary under a dress when she wore a bra. But once the bra came off, the weight was there, and they had a lovely ripe-looking shape.

When she was naked, she stretched out on the bed. "Come over here and be nice to me."

He was on her quickly. She kissed his mouth. She pushed his head down to her tits and he sucked her nipples, one after the other. Then she pushed his head again and pulled her knees back.

"Down at the candy counter," she said.

He wasn't bashful about it. Sometimes when they were too inexperienced, they hesitated about eating her. She always insisted. She loved it. If they were too awkward, she told them what she wanted. She loved having a mouth on her cunt. She loved seeing her juices on a man's face. The young men looked so cute when they came up for air. Suck my cunt, she thought. Suck out all the goodies.

This guy did a passable job of eating her. He'd certainly had his mouth on a pussy before. He knew where her clit was. He knew enough to nibble at it until it felt so good she had to start pumping her pussy at his face. She held his head with her hands and fucked her cunt at his mouth.

"Keep sucking," she said. "Keep sucking until I tell you to stop."

After a while, she pushed him away. His cock was like a bar of steel again. That was why she felt no qualms about forcing them to go down on her. Most of them loved it. They loved getting their mouths in a wet pussy. Their hot little mouths. She loved it when they were good at it. She'd had a lesbian do her once. Not Josie, someone else. She'd never made it with Josie. They were nothing more than friends. The les-

bian had been the best at sucking her pussy. But a man could come close. And a man had a cock and that was what she needed.

"Let me fuck you," the guy said.

She smiled at him. "Yes, it's time. You can get behind me."

She liked it best that way. Kneeling with her ass in the air and the cock behind her. She rolled over now and knelt on the mattress. She knew the effect it had on him. He could see everything she had, her cunt and asshole, everything hanging out. He looked so cute with cunt-juice on his lips.

In a moment he had his hands on her ass and his cock rubbing against her pussy. She was wet and wide-open, and he had no trouble sliding his fuck-knob inside her cunthole. She quivered with pleasure as his thick cock filled her cunt-channel. Young as he was, he knew how to fuck. He had a strong cock and he knew how to use it. She hadn't made a mistake in choosing him.

"Do you like doing it this way?" she said. He drove his cock in deep. "Yeah, sure." "Would you like to fuck my ass?"

"You mean it?"

"Yes, but fuck my pussy first. I'll tell you when to switch."

She could sense his excitement by the way he pumped at her cunt. He was like a young stallion, his balls swinging against her clit each time he slammed forward. She rested the side of her face against the mattress and spread her legs wide. She squeezed her tits with one hand. In this position her tits hung far down and the squeezing felt delicious.

After a while she told him he could switch.

"Do you really want it in your ass?"

"Of course I do. Haven't you ever done it?"

"Sure," he said. But of course, it was a lie. If he had done it before, he wouldn't have asked if she really wanted it.

He pulled out of her cunt and she told him to go on and stick his cock in her ass. She was ready for it. She had visited the bathroom when they first arrived and she had greased her asshole with Vaseline. Life didn't amount to much unless you went after what you needed.

She pushed out, opened her asshole to make it easy for him. She knew she could take him without any trouble. It was sweet that this was his first time. He'd never forget her now.

A deep groan came out of his throat as he slid his cock into the hot grip of her shitter. "Oh Jesus!"

"Is it good?"

"It's great!"

"Take your time. Make it last. It's nicer when it lasts a long time."

He took her advice. He stroked slowly. His cock sliding smoothly in and out of her wide open ass. It was funny how when she was a girl she'd never thought she could go for it. Now she liked it better than the other way.

He was skillful enough to keep fucking her ass nearly five minutes. By this time, her asshole and shit-tube were loose and buttery, and she had already come twice.

When she had the third climax, she clamped her ass with his cock and he lost control. With a groan, he slammed his cock forward and shot off in her bowels.

Afterward she brought a wet towel from the bathroom and cleaned him up.

He lay back on the bed with his folded arms under his head and his breathing heavy. He looked down at her as she wiped his cock with the towel.

"God, you're something," he said.

"Too much for you?"

"I could fuck you for a year."

"We don't have a year, we have only a little while. Turn over and I'll do something nice."

He had a puzzled look on his face as he rolled

over. How innocent he was! It was fun getting him to lose his innocence. She always had more fun with a teenager. A grown man expected everything and gave back very little. A teenage guy was grateful.

She played with his ass. She ran the wet towel up and down his asscrack to get it clean. He started squirming, complained she was tickling him. She told him to lie still. She told him he might learn something.

She liked his ass. She gripped and rolled his asscheeks and then spread them apart to expose his brownie. His puckered little eye. She went down on it. Holding his asscheeks open, she tickled his bunghole with her tongue.

"Oh Jesus!" he said.

"No good?"

"Do it again!"

"Get on your knees so I can do it the right way." She didn't always do it. She never did it to a grown man. Only to the guys. They brought out the lust in her.

When he was on his knees, she crouched behind him to rim his asshole. He groaned as she loosened his Ms-bud with her tongue. Then her tongue was inside, swirling in her shitter, in and out as he trembled at the feel of it.

"Do you like it?" she said.

"Oh wow!"

She was amused. How she loved getting them hot! She pulled his balls and cock back and sucked the knob of his prick. Then she licked his asshole again, long swipes of her tongue with plenty of saliva. Soon she had his ass loose and open.

She made him get on his back again. His cock was iron-hard, his balls tight against the base of his cockshaft. His prick looked about to explode. She teased his cockhead with her fingers. "You liked that, didn't you?"

"Yeah!"

"It's called rimming."

"I know. I thought it's something only queers do."

"Now you know better."

She played with his cock and balls, teasing him by keeping the touches light and feathery. Then she told him to pull his knees back. He was like putty now. He would do anything she wanted. When his knees were pulled back, she rolled her thumb over his asshole. Then her middle finger. He made a sound of pleasure as she pushed her middle finger inside his ass.

"Nice?"

"Christ, you're making me crazy!"

"But you like it."

"Yeah!"

She added another finger. His asshole was loose enough to take it easily. She moved the fingers in and out a few times, and then she leaned forward and took his swollen cockhead in her mouth.

He went crazy. He squirmed on the bed as she blew him. She screwed her fingers in and out of his ass as she sucked his cock. He couldn't last. Another few seconds and she had what she wanted. He bucked off the bed as the jism spurted out of his prick. All that sweet cock-cream. The nice thing about guys his age was they always had a gallon of spunk to give her.

When Pat arrived home, she called out to Stuart, but there was no answer. Then she walked to the open door of his room and she saw that he was asleep. He was under the sheet with the reading light on. The air conditioning was off. She could tell he was naked under the sheet. She could also see he had a raging hard-on.

She and Stuart had been alone together so

long there were no walls between them. Most people were surprised when she told them she had a teenage son. They said she looked too young. Yes, it was true. She did look too young to be his mother. But his mother she was. They were friends. She fucked men whenever she was in the mood, but the only man she really cared about was Stuart. They did everything except that. They had all the bonds except sex.

When he began to grow up, they stopped walking around the house without clothes. Sometimes she was sorry about it. She liked looking at him. The way his body developed. And she knew he liked looking at her, too. But they never looked at each other these days. Not unless it was accidental.

Sometimes he would unexpectedly come into her room while she was dressing, and he would see her in a bra and panties. Or she would see him under the same circumstances. She saw him all the time in his jockey shorts. The bulge of his cock and balls. Sometimes it drove her crazy. All that lovely cockmeat in the pouch of his shorts. So what if he was her own son? She wasn't made out of stone, was she? She knew what his cock looked like. She had seen it often enough when he was a kid, and then after that

on occasion. She had even seen him hard a few times. Like now. When he was sleeping. His prick standing up like a telephone pole. She wanted to see it again. She had just fucked a guy in a motel room and here she was with a letch to have a look at her son.

She resisted the impulse. Maybe it was too kinky. But she had never denied to herself that Stuart excited her sexually. It didn't bother her. She didn't care what people would say about it. They hadn't fucked yet anyway. All she did was think about it. And maybe Stuart thought about it too. The way he stared at her tits when he saw her in a bra. She had to look at him now.

She told herself the sheet had to be adjusted. She wanted him to sleep comfortably. He had the sheet bunched up on one side and all she would do was straighten it out. She lifted the sheet and held it up long enough to get a good look at his cock.

There it was, that lovely hard prick, stiff as a poker and slanting back toward his belly. She hadn't seen it like this in a long time. How big he was! That glorious cock-knob. His swollen pink balls. He had his father's coloring. Lots of dark crotch hair. He wasn't a child any more. This was a young man with a man's equipment, and a woman had to be blind not to be turned

on by him. It made no difference that he was her own son, her mouth watered as she gazed at his cock.

She finally left him. She turned the light off and walked quietly out of his room and down the hall to her bedroom. She could feel the beating of her heart. She was sweating. Oh baby, she thought. She stripped her clothes off and stepped into the shower.

So he turned her on, so what? That had happened before. But this time, it felt different. That gorgeous cock he had! She was certainly cock-crazy. She had always been cock-crazy. She lathered the soap over her body, fondled her tits and pussy and carefully reamed her asshole with a fingertip. She remembered the feel of Wade's cock in her ass. Stuart's cock would feel better. Stuart had more cock than Wade. Longer and thicker. She closed her eyes and shuddered as she thought of her son's cock in her ass.

She thought about all the guys she'd had. The teenagers and young men she'd picked up whenever she was in the mood fat it. Maybe it was all a cover for the lust she had for Stuart. Maybe that was it.

She rubbed her cunt. She thought, about Stuart as she masturbated. Could it possibly

happen? Would they sooner or later wind up in bed together?

Why not? she thought. It was what she wanted. It made no sense any more to delude herself. She wanted Stuart. Just the idea of it made her quiver from head to toe. Was it possible? She decided that if it was possible, she would find a way to do it.

She came thinking about that. The orgasm ripped through her pussy as she thought of Stuart in bed with her. That lovely cock sliding in and out of her cunt.

Yes, she thought. That's what I want!

#SPYING ON MOM by Donna Allen #Chapter 1

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josephinelouiseobrien · 4 years ago

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High School Reunion (2)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x OC

Synopsis: Jada Hale was Penelope Garcia’s best friend. They’d been through everything together - high school, relationships, breakups, a stalker, college, getting arrested and then joining the FBI. So when there high school reunion rolls around Penelope refuses to let Jada skip it - even if that means forcing a certain doctor to be her date.

A/N: a few peoples wanted me to tag them but rn tumblr isn’t letting me tag anyone and I’m having a hard time even linking stuff to my Masterlist right now. I’ll try to tag the people who asked in future chapters but if you know how to fix this problem please lmk.

Masterlist

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Flashback:

It was junior year and all anyone could talk about was Jacob Tate - the dreamboat who’d only recently broken up with his supermodel girlfriend. In reality she’d dumped him, but he told a different story.

Rumor was that he was looking for a new ‘muse’ as he called it. He’d always been into photography and wanted someone who could become the main focus of his art.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the social spectrum, were Penelope and Jada. Unlike their classmates they were less focused on the drama surrounding Jacob Tate and more concerned with college admissions. Their dream had always been to attend Caltech he together and they weren’t going to let anything get in the way of it.

Only, Jacob Tate started focusing his attention onto Jada. Slowly as time went on she’d started straying from who she was.

It started with her appearance: her sweatshirts became crop tops, Her jeans became skirts and booty shorts. Then she dyed her hair, it’s previous light brown color was changed to an almost black lined with streaks of vibrant pink.

Then it was school: her grades started slipping - her focus switched from school to Jacob. After awhile she just stoped showing up - her attendance was down the drain at that point.

Finally she declared that she wanted to pursue a career in modeling. They made it official - Jada was dating Jacob Tate. He claimed she was his new ‘muse’ and told her lies about how he could make her famous.

Over time Jada even dropped Penelope. It wasn’t until her best friends parents were killed by a drunk driver that Jada reached out to her old friend. Of course the blonde didn’t welcome her back with open arms but over time they grew closer. And when she eventually dropped out of caltech and went underground, Jada was the only one to know about her whereabouts.

Then after months of penelope telling her that Jacob Tate was bad news - Jada came to the conclusion herself. The manipulation was one thing. She could deal with the emotional and mental abuse. But one thing that her mother had taught her that stuck was that a man should never lay his hands on a women.

All it took was one slap across the face for Jada to pack her bags and leave.

She expected the incessant calling, the crying voicemails. She even expected the threatening ones that he’d left when he’d clearly been in a drunken stupor - she could tell thanks to the slurring of his speech.

But then he started showing up at her parents house. He’d sit outside and cry - scream. Her parents called the cops multiple times and Jada took their advice. She blocked his number and all his social media accounts.

He somehow still managed to contact her. Whether it be through a friends phone or by creating a new social media account - he was stubborn.

Then one day she snapped - she couldn’t take it anymore. She got a new phone, new number, new phone carrier. She deleted any trace of her from social media. She packed up and moved in with Penelope - who at that point had ended up on the FBI’s hacker list.

And with the help of her best friend she deleted her entire identity. Her birth certificate - gone. Social security number - gone. Hospital records - gone. Jada Hale no longer existed to the world and for some reason it helped her sleep better at night.

It also helped attain a job at the FBI. Instead of throwing her in jail for virtually deleting herself from existence they used it to their advantage. They’d send her undercover and sneak her into places where they needed someone who could be anyone. She was a shadow.

——————————————————————————

“He hasn’t bothered me since.” Jada reassured. Based off of the mortified looks on both Spencer and Morgan’s faces they were a little more then concerned.

Spencer’s expression softened, “you never went to the police?”

It broke his heart to know that someone had treated her like she was nothing. To him, she was everything. It baffles him: ‘how could he treat someone so kind and caring like she was nothing?’

Jada shrugged, “it wasn’t as bad as it sounds, I promise. I mean, other people have had it so much worse.”

“Did you know that 99% of people who survive traumatic situations downplay what had happened to them.” Spencer replied softly, his eyes boring into Jada’s soul. “Almost all of them saying something all the lines of: ‘other people have it worse’.”

“No, I didn’t know that.” Jada whispered, her gaze then hitting the floor.

Morgan sighed, “are you sure you haven’t seen him since, kid? Cause this sounds like more then just some teenager with a broken heart.”

“I’m sure.” Jada replied only to recieve a nudge from Garcia. If she was gonna come clean she mind as well do it properly. “Sometimes I think I see him - but I have to be hallucinating or something.”

Spencer shook his head, “Jada-”

“You know what? Now that I’m saying this out loud I’m realizing how crazy it sounds.” Jada replied, waving it off completely. “I’m overreacting. Spence you don’t have to go to this stupid reunion with me.”

Spencer wouldn’t let her go alone - he couldn’t. Sighing he softly grabbed her hand, his eyes boring into hers. Confidence surged through him - when it came to her safety he’d defy every social barrier that held him back. “What about if I want to go?”

“Spence-”

“No, I want to.” Spencer continued, “come on, let me be your date to your high school reunion.”

Jada crumpled at that moment, nodding as she gave in. “Fine, but not because I’m scared but because I want you to be my date.”

Spencer blushed softly, an undeniable smile stretching across his face. Maybe she was just saying it to give him a chance to back out but Spencer couldn’t stop the butterflies from appearing in his stomach.

If he ever got the chance to, he’d treat her like she was the world - because whether or not he admitted it out loud, she was his.

——————————————————————————

The rest of the day was spent focusing on paperwork - other then the small mentions of the reunion that came up once and awhile. Emily had teased Jada about the video - somehow she’d seen it as well. Only at the mention of her high school years Jada didn’t feel the familiar tightening of her chest. Maybe telling someone about what had happened to her really did help her to move on.

Gathering her belongings, Jada said her goodbyes as she headed to the elevator. Once inside she clicked the button for the first floor, allowing her head to rest against the wall behind her and her eyes to fall closed in exhaustion. Only before the elevator doors could close Spencer slipped into the small metal box.

Jada furrowed her eyebrows as her eyes cracked open slightly. Usually he’d already be gone by the time she left - but she didn’t question it. “Hey, Spence. You going down?”

The man nodded, bouncing on the balls of his heels nervously. “Yep.”

Jada was too tired to question his strange behavior, instead simply shutting up as she waited for the elevator to descend onto the first floor. Only as she left the building she found Spencer following her. “Spence, don’t you have to go to your car?”

The man fumbled slightly with his words, “I just thought I’d walk you to your car today.”

“I didn’t tell you that story so you could worry about me, you know?” Jada replied sighing heavily. This was the exact reason why she didn’t tell anyone - she didn’t want to be pitied. “I’m a lot stronger then you think.”

“I know.” Reid mumbled, licking his lips nervously. “It’d make me feel better though - to know your alright.”

Jada sighed, “alright well my cars in the shop so I’m waiting for the bus. And before you ask, you don’t have to wait with me.”

“Let me drive you home.”

“Fine.” Jada caved, following Spencer towards where his car was parked.

The ride to her apartment complex was silent, and as the car slowed to a stop she found herself asking: “do you want to come in for coffee or something?”

Spencer was quick to nod, “sure.”

Jada set down a mug filled with coffee - but mainly sugar - in front of Spencer. She knew his coffee order by heart then again it wasn’t something she could easily forget, the first time they ever met he’d spilled his coffee all over her.

“So, do you want to talk about it?”

“About what?” Jada questioned as she took a seat on her couch beside Reid.

Spencer shifted slightly. “About jacob. Studies show that talking about trauma can help you move past it.”

“I wasn’t traumatized.” Jada corrected, “but I will answer any questions you have.”

“Okay.” Spencer nodded seeming to contemplate what he’d ask. Jada could practically see a lightbulb going off in his head as he came up with a good question. “How long were you two together?”

Jada’s eyes diverted to where she was playing with the strings of her sweater. “Almost two years.”

“Did he ever... get physical with you? Before the last time.”

Jada shook her head, “No. I would never let a man slap me around. Ever.”

“But, what he did - you might not be able to see the damage but it’s clear he still left some behind.”

Jada sighed watching his expression carefully. All she saw was fear - he was treating her like a piece of glass. She wasn’t going to break. “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“like I’m gonna break. Like I’m some fragile little girl.”

“Fragile?” Spencer echoed in shock, his eyes wide at her revelation. “Jade, I don’t think your fragile. You’re the strongest person I know.”

Tears welled in the brunettes eyes at Spencer’s words and she found herself easily falling into his arms. At first the man found it awkward, but slowly he became more comfortable as he began to draw circles on her back until she fell asleep.

#mgg #criminal minds #spencer reid #dr. spencer reid #derek morgan #stalker #penelope garcia #high school reunion

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mypassionfortrash · 5 years ago

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Quarantine dream: day one.

It’s the Great Quarantine of 2020, and you and Roger find yourselves cooped up together. Will you get on each others’ nerves, or do you love each other enough to weather the storm? Warnings: Mentions of really weird sex stuff (as a joke), strictly 18+ Notes: New fic. It’s a bit on the nose, but if we don’t laugh, we’ll cry! I’m going to try and update this daily. Full disclaimer, it was written quickly and might be very disjointed.

Day one.

The missus is working from home now. We’re essentially going to be housebound for the foreseeable. She’s already forbidden me from revving the Porsche too loudly in the garage, coming into her ‘designated work space’ between the hours of nine and five, and trying to help her with the cooking and cleaning. Apparently I’m ‘getting in the way.’ I’ve been cast out to my ‘man cave’ during the daytime... and god help me if I leave to scavenge for snacks or even a cuppa!

Which one lives, which one dies, we’ll see! I have a feeling only one of us is getting out of here alive.

In other news, John sent me a video of him and Ronnie in Tesco. Trolley piled high with TP. Now I have the overwhelming urge to brave the dreaded Coronavirus and get the shopping in a couple of days early.

I’m clearly going to go mad, aren’t I?

One more hour of work. That’s what you told yourself as you settled back at your makeshift desk in the spare room. One more hour and then you could get the dinner on.

Working from home was harder than you imagined. Not having the commute was lovely, but only having contact with Roger – as much as you loved him – was enough to drive anyone to the edge of sanity.

And it was only day one.

Hunching over your laptop, you scrolled through the emails that had piled up during your tea break, now wishing you could just have a meeting. Times had changed and you didn’t have time for 800 word emails about your company’s next rebrand.

Soon enough, something out in the garden caught your eye.

Roger emerged from the garage, his white t-shirt spattered in dirt and grime from a day of tinkering with his collection of four-wheeled loves. He moved swiftly, shaking his head as he looked down at his phone.

You heard the back door slam closed and his footsteps trudge upstairs. Silently praying he wasn’t coming to bother you, you counted his footsteps in your head, imagining every door that lined the hall.

“You’re never going to believe this, darling!” Roger called.

Your eyes burst open the second he entered the room.

Roger leaned over you and thrust his phone in your face, so close you could barely see what was on the screen. “Look at John!” He screeched. “Look at him!”

“What am I looking at?”

Roger’s voice kept going up an octave every sentence until it made you wince. “The bastard’s cleared out Tesco! Look at his bloody trolley!”

Huffing and rolling your eyes, you turned around, going nose to nose with him. “How many kids does he have?”

Roger quietened down. “I don’t know,” he shrugged, “a lot?”

“Well, I don’t thi–”

“You’re not telling me that’s their weekly shop though. They’re stockpiling toilet roll! It doesn’t make you shit yourself! I’ve got a good mind to go down to Tesco and–”

“And what?”

Roger’s attitude came in peaks and troughs but now he looked utterly sheepish, sinking on to the edge of the bed and batting his lashes. “Maybe do the shopping a couple of days earlier? If you want.”

You sighed and leaned your head on the back of your chair, allowing your eyes to wander towards his. You couldn’t say no to him – he made it impossible for you. “One more hour of work and I’ll come with you to supervise.”

Roger’s eyes narrowed as a broad smile lifted his features. “Good.”

As Roger rose to his feet, you reached out to grab the hem of his shirt, pulling him into you. Your lips met with an audible sigh and a fleeting kiss. “And for the love of god, jump in the shower and change your clothes.”

“Why?” Roger smirked. “We’re only going out during the apocalypse.”

An hour and a clean shirt later, you and Roger bundled into the Range Rover to embark on the five-minute drive to Tesco, completely unsure of what you’d find when you arrived.

The radio droned on in the background, covering the latest developments from the Prime Minister’s daily press conferences. Roger listened on with disdain as he drove – he never had much time for politics at the best of times – but he still listened intently. The situation was getting serious enough to worry him.

Boris bumbled through the airwaves but his message was clear: stay home.

“It’s what we should be doing,” you sighed, leaning forward to reach into your handbag.

“What?”

You took out a box of latex gloves. You, being the sensible and prepared one, always made sure you had some in the house. Blowing into one and slipping it on your hand, you mumbled your response. “Staying home.”

“What are those for?” Roger asked, glancing over at you snapping on the other glove.

“We’re being careful. But you can’t guarantee everyone else is.”

Roger’s hand found your thigh and gave it a reassuring squeeze as the car spun around the corner into Tesco’s car park.

Neither of you were sure of what you were expecting.

Chaos? Crowds? Cars everywhere?

You and Roger sat in silence as the car thudded to a halt right at the front door. There wasn’t a soul in sight.

“This is creepy,” Roger stated. “Bet we’ll be going in to empty shelves.”

“It’s going to be ok,” you said, jumping out and heading towards the door. “Remember the shopping bags in the boot!”

You could hear Roger groan as he retraced his steps. “This is why I hate going shopping with you,” he grumbled, fumbling through the boot for the almighty Bag of Bags. “We’re rich enough,” he wittered, slamming the boot. “We can get plastic carriers.”

From the corner of your eye, you could see him stomping back to you as you grabbed a trolley. A small one, so Roger wouldn’t succumb to temptation.

“…All because some little Swedish girl’s bloody whining about the planet getting warmer… not a bad thing if you ask me.”

“What are you droning on about?” you asked, grabbing the Bag of Bags from him. You hoped that putting them in the small trolley would lessen the amount of space available to him too.

“Greta’s probably having a fucking field day,” Roger mumbled. “Us using those bloody sacks for the shopping. No cars on the road.”

“It’s not a bad thing. We’ve been in London how many years? And when have we ever been able to get a proper breath until now? I quite like the lack of traffic.”

“Make the most of being able to breathe, darling. Corona’s a bitch, I’ve heard.”

The sight of the baron wasteland in front of you stopped you in your tracks. No people, no food, just rows and rows of empty shelves.

“I have a list,” you said meekly, taking a crumpled piece of paper out of your pocket.

Roger laughed. “Good luck with that.” He barged past you, peering over his shoulder. “I’ll take the cleaning stuff, fruit and veg, and toiletries. You check the rest.”

Empty supermarkets were strange places. Flickering lights and empty shelves, the only sound came from the creaking wheels of your trolley as you snaked the aisles for something – anything – from your shopping list. The only items left were either expensive or things you’d never be able to cobble a meal out of. Bread and pasta were non-existent in this liminal space, as were eggs and flour, so you couldn’t even make those from scratch. All you managed to find were two sorry looking ready meals, a bottle of gin and a tin of chopped tomatoes – none of which were on your optimistic list.

Roger didn’t do much better, either. He seemed to spring out of nowhere with armfuls of Bayliss and Harding soap at a fiver a pop, a two-litre bottle of bleach and one measly aubergine.

“What are we going to do with that?” you asked.

“What, the aubergine?” he smirked, waggling his eyebrows.”That gin might loosen me up enough.”

“Oh, fuck off! When have we eaten aubergine, Roger!”

“Well,” Roger began, grabbing the trolley, “it’s like that nature man from the telly says. Adapt, overcome… and...”

You glared up at him, “and?”

“I don’t even remember.”

“This is dire.”

Having checked out your scant supermarket haul, you and Roger embarked on the drive home, trying to figure out what you could do with the food you had found.

“I’ve always wanted to shove an aubergine up my arse,” Roger huffed.

“Why’d you think I kept these gloves? I’ve seen the weird shit you’ve been watching,” You mused. “Oh! Moussaka! We still have mince!” you squeaked, bobbing up and down in your seat.

“Kill the mood, why don’t you,” Roger laughed. “But yeah, moussaka could work.”

“I think this apocalypse thing might just turn out ok after all.”

#roger taylor #roger taylor x reader

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insideabunker · 4 years ago

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The Games: Chapter 12

The dream was the same as always, darkness and the sound of glass shattering followed by silence and the terrible sting of the cold night air. The wind bit at her nose and cheeks and something pressed down on her shoulder, crushing her tiny body with its weight.

Lexa woke with a start, her senses slowly returning as she peered around the dark space. The shades were down, but sunlight slipped in through the cracks, casting eerie shadows across the room and illuminating the blurry figure hovering over her. She rubbed her eyes, her vision finally focusing on the frowning face of Raven Reyes, who knelt over the bed, clutching twin paper cups of dining hall coffee. She placed one of the cups on the bedside table and tilted her head toward the door of the room, which she disappeared through without a word.

Lexa untangled herself from the sheets, taking great care not to wake Clarke, who remained tucked into the brunette's chest, fast asleep. She groped in the semi-dark for her shoes, slipping them on as she grabbed the coffee and snuck out of the room. The door had barely closed behind her before Raven pounced.

"You're sleeping over now? Is there a U-Haul parked outside somewhere?"

Lexa gripped her coffee cup a little tighter, rattled by the girl's intensity and nowhere near awake enough to handle the third degree.

"What time is it?"

"Five AM, now answer my question."

"Clarke asked me to stay."

The corners of Raven's mouth rounded downward into a scowl, her eyes narrowing in disapproval. "Did you manage to convince Clarke to get her leg looked at?"

Lexa sipped the coffee guiltily, trying to buy enough time to come up with a good excuse.

"No."

Raven rolled her eyes, unimpressed with the answer. "Damn it, Woods, I was counting on you!"

"I'm sorry." Lexa fidgeted with her coffee cup, nervously wondering why she hadn't tried harder to talk sense into Clarke. Then again, she thought, why hadn't Raven if it was so important?

"What about you? You could have stayed and helped me instead of just disappearing."

Raven scowled. "I did not just disappear. I went to find our coach, who was off screaming to the IOC about that sad-ass excuse for a referee. Kane left right after the game ended; otherwise, he would have insisted on Clarke getting examined." She glanced at the door, lowering her voice. "Did you at least get a look at it?"

Lexa nodded.

"And?"

"Honestly?" The goalie shuffled in place, rubbing her neck nervously. "I mean, I'm not a doctor," she skirted the question, swallowing the guilt that welled up as she thought about the angry, purple bruising along Clarke's thigh. "She said that if it didn't feel better this morning, she'd have it checked out by your trainers."

Frustrated, Raven ran a hand through her hair, tugging at the roots as she clenched her jaw tightly. Lexa watched the muscles in her cheeks flex as she ground her teeth together, her irritation evident. After a few moments of tense silence, Lexa cleared her throat, attempting to change the subject.

"Look, I don't know Clarke that well but..."

"That's right." The statement seemed to call Raven back from whatever had been on her mind. Her attention snapped to Lexa, completely focused on the goalie's features as she stared her down. "You don't know her that well, but I do." She let out a sharp breath, sipping more of her coffee as she surveyed the hallways to make sure they were still alone.

"Woods, listen to me. I've known that girl since she was seventeen. Clarke is my best friend."

Raven ran a hand over her tired face, massaging the slightly purple bags that had formed under her dark eyes. "She's more than stubborn; she's downright unreasonable. Winning gold means everything to her. She's not going to let anything get in the way of that, even if it means risking a permanent injury."

Raven's face softened. "Do you know why it took Clarke more than a year to rehabilitate her knee?"

Lexa shook her head, waiting for the American goalie to illuminate her.

"It took her so long because she nearly re-injured it halfway through rehab. She was pushing too hard, and she put a micro tear in the cadaver ligament she'd received." Raven stared at her seriously. "Look, if you're going to be sticking around, you've got to understand how intense Clarke is. She doesn't know when to quit. She'll work herself into her grave if you let her."

Lexa's face fell, her guilt growing as she realized how little she'd done to convince Clarke to get her leg appropriately treated.

"So," the American goaltender stared at her Canadian counterpart skeptically. "Are you?"

Lexa looked up, confused by Raven's question. "Am I what?"

"Are you sticking around?"

Lexa bit her lip apprehensively, unsure how much she wanted to admit to Clarke's closest friend.

"I'd like to," she paused. "If she'll let me."

Raven bowed her head, staring at her toes thoughtfully. "Maybe she will," she looked up, her expression deadly serious. "But, if you care about her you'll help her make the right decision, especially when she refuses to make it for herself."

-----

"Is it just me or is it cold in here?"

Clarke rolled her eyes at her father, smiling at his telltale smirk as he beamed down at her. Warm yellow light from the afternoon sun spilled through the windows of the old rink, making Jake's face glow.

"Very funny, Dad."

"I'm just saying." His eyes sparkle with mischief. "I remember this place being warmer when you were a kid."

He shoved his daughter with his elbow, smiling at her reverentially as he gave her the once-over. "How ya been, Kid?"

Clarke shrugged. "Tired."

"Of the game?"

"No," she shook her head. "That's the one thing I never get tired of."

Clarke sighed and leaned into her father's side, burrowing herself into the old, flannel lined corduroy jacket that he was never without. She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of old spice, bay rum, and stale tobacco that always seemed to cling to him.

"Still smoking?"

"I'll quit when I'm dead."

"Not funny." She frowned, surprised to find that a lump was forming at the back of her throat. "I miss you," Clarke barely managed to eke out as she forced back the tears that threatened to spill over.

"I miss you too, Kid." Jake wrapped one of his strong arms around her shoulders and pulled her tighter to him, gazing back at the rink as the shotgun crack of a slap shot broke the silence of the arena.

They stared down at the ice, watching as the puck sailed into the outstretched glove of a goalie. Clarke watched at the goaltender curiously, recognizing the curly tendrils that peaked out from underneath her helmet.

"Who's the sieve?"

"I, um..." Clarke fumbled for a way to explain Lexa's odd appearance in her dreamscape. "Dad, what's she doing here?"

"You tell me, Kid." Jake smiled as he watched the masked figure discard the puck from her glove and crouch lower, readying herself for another shot. "Never knew you had a thing for goalies."

Clarke felt the blood rush to her face, the blush spreading all the way across her cheeks to the tip of her ears. "Dad!"

"What?" He flashed a grin at her. "You old man can't ask about your love life?"

Clarke blushed even harder, sure that by now, she had turned beet red. "It's just," she paused thinking of all the conversations they'd never been able to have. "I never got a chance to tell you..."

"That you're into brunettes?"

"Dad..." Clarke narrowed her eyes, imploring him to solemnity. "Please, be serious."

Jake's face softened as he pulled her closer. He stared down at her with a look the reflected nothing but pure, unconditional adoration. "Kid, why didn't you just tell me?"

"I hadn't really figured it out yet." Clarke sighed, burying herself farther into her father's side, thoroughly embarrassed.

Jake patted his daughter's shoulder reassuringly, thinking for a moment. "I always wondered why you never went through that boy-crazy phase your mother kept warning me was coming."

"I thought I was just focused," she shrugged. "Are you mad?"

There was a pause, and then to Clarke's surprise, a giant roar burst from Jake's lips. "Kid..." His sides shook as deep belly laughter doubled him over, making his eyes water. "My dream in life was that I’d never lose you to some loser boyfriend." He wiped tears from his eyes, taking a moment to let his chuckling subside. "I couldn't be happier."

It took a moment, but Jake finally managed regained his composure. He winked at his daughter. "So you like this girl?"

"I do," she nodded.

"Like, or like?" He emphasized the last word, cocking one eyebrow.

Clarke avoided his gaze, feeling suddenly awkward. She shuffled her feet nervously. "I haven't known her very long. I'm not sure yet.”

Jake's expression became wistful. "You know," he paused, pondering something for a moment. "I knew how I felt about your mother five seconds after I met her." He nudged his daughter in the ribs, playfully. "Some things, Clarke, you just know."

Clarke continued to stare at her shoes. "You should see her play; she's so good."

"As good as you?"

Clarke's shoulders slumped, her face falling at the question. "I'm not so sure about that these days."

"Hey..." She felt her father's fingers under her chin as he tiled her head up to look him in the eyes. "Don't ever say that."

Clarke tried to look away, but her father held her gaze. "I didn't teach you hockey because I loved the game. I taught you hockey because from the moment you first put on skates I couldn't keep you off the ice. You love to play, and you're great at it; the best."

Clarke finally looked up, acknowledging the honesty in her father's words. She reached out a hand, squeezing her bad knee as it began to ache. "I'm not sure how long I've got left, Dad."

Jake nodded, his face solemn. "None of us do, but you know what I always say."

"Find what you love and let it kill you." They spoke the words at the same time, both smiling at the well-worn expression.

"Can you stay for a bit?"

Jake sighed, his eyes turning glassy. "'Fraid not."

Clarke clenched her jaw tightly, refusing to let their last moment be a sad one. She burrowed back into her father's side, wrapping her arms around his wiry frame as his arms encircled her one last time.

"I love you, Kid."

"I love you too, Dad." Suddenly, the rink was dark. The pressure of her father's strong, sturdy arms disappeared, and all Clarke could feel was a rush of cold air. Then her eyes flickered, and she was awake, suddenly aware of a new set of arms wrapping themselves around her waist.

Lexa shifted behind her, pulling the blonde closer as she slid under the covers of the bed. Clarke stretched a bit, turning herself so that they were facing one another.

"Hey."

"Hey," Lexa smiled apprehensively, clumsily rubbing at the back of her neck. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"That's ok." Too tired to be concerned with the intimacy of the gesture, Clarke tucked herself closer into Lexa, leaning her head into the crook of the larger girl's arm. "Where did you go?" She closed her eyes, inhaling the scent of deodorant and soap.

The goalie kissed the top of Clarke's head and ran a hand through her disheveled locks, pushing stray blonde strands out of her face. It was a tender gesture that, ordinarily, would have made Clarke anxious. To the blonde's surprised, however, she found herself closing her eyes in contentment.

"That feels nice."

Lexa chuckled. "Speaking of how things feel," she cringed, knowing that her attempt at a smooth transition had been clumsy at best. "How's the leg?"

Cautiously, Clarke began to move her ailing limb. She stretched the leg, extending it nearly all the way before she winced at the tenderness. "Well, I can move it at least. She wiggled her toes, thankful to feel that she had full motion in all of them. "No numbness or tingling in my foot."

The Canadian bit her lip, nervous to inquire any further. "And the pain?"

Clarke attempted to bend the limb in the opposite direction, finding that it was much stiffer and more sore upon flexion. "Well, it doesn't feel great." She grimaced, "but, then again, it's felt worse."

"Can I take a look?" Lexa tensed, bracing for Clarke to become defensive. For a moment the smaller woman stiffened, but the tension in her small frame eased a second later, and Lexa felt her nod into her chest.

The brunette pushed her body upright, pulling back the covers just enough to expose Clarke's legs. Slowly, she pushed the leg of Clarke's sweatpants up, careful not to jostle her limb as she moved. Lexa recoiled at the sight of the angry purple bruising that seemed to have grown darker overnight.

"Clarke," she hesitated, not wanting to upset the fierce girl tucked into her side. "The bruising looks worse than it did last night."

Clarke nodded, surprisingly calm. "That's normal. She raised herself on her hands, chancing a glance at the leg. Clarke frowned, growling in frustration as observed that the damage had not magically disappeared. "That's just the blood losing oxygen as it raises to the surface of the injury."

"Wow," Lexa sounded genuinely impressed by her companion's savvy. "Check you out, Dr. Griffin."

Clarke rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right." She collapsed back against the pillows, groaning in discouragement.

"Clarke," Lexa hesitant, afraid to push the issue any further. "You said you'd have your trainer look at your leg if it was still bothering you today."

"I know but..." Clarke rolled closer, settling her weight against Lexa's body. "Can we just lay here for a while? Please?" She cuddled up against Lexa's side, sliding a hand underneath her t-shirt and trailing her fingers along sinew and rib.

Lexa shivered at Clarke's touch, her better judgment melting away as goosebumps formed along her skin. "Yeah, sure. We can lie here for a little longer."

Lexa shuffled down into the covers and slipped an arm over Clarke's waist, desperately trying not to grin like a fool. She knew she should feel guilty for giving in so easily, but something about Clarke's touch, something about the way she said "please," tore at Lexa's resolve.

"Do you want to go back to sleep?"

Clarke shook her head. "I'm not sure I can sleep right now." She continued to gently stroke Lexa's side with the blades of her fingers. "Can you talk to me for a while? Just until I fall back asleep?"

Lexa let her hand dip below Clark's sweatshirt. She ran a flat palm over her spine and began to rub slow circles over the tense muscles of her back. She felt almost giddy at the way Clarke' hummed into her chest, clearly enjoying herself.

"What do you want to talk about?"

Clarke breathed contentedly, thinking for a moment. "I was pretty awful to you last night. Why did you take care of me?"

Lexa considered how to answer the question, ultimately deciding that honestly was her best option. She allowed herself a moment to gather the right words, and when the moment was over, stated simply, "Because, you matter to me."

"We just met though," Clarke peered up at her, her fingers stilling as she stared up inquisitively. "How..." she hesitated, trying to understand how Lexa could be so sure about something in so little time. "I mean, why?"

Unable to articulate her answer, Lexa shrugged. "Some things you just know, I guess."

Clarke nearly froze at the brunette's words, the sound of them ringing in her ears as she remembered her dream. Determined that it must be a coincidence, Clarke relaxed again, burying her face back into the crook of Lexa's arm.

"Well, thank you for staying."

"Of course." Lexa leaned in, allowing her chin to rest on the top of the blonde's head. She closed her eyes and continued to rub soothing circles up and down Clarke's back. "What else do you want to talk about?"

Clarke thought for a moment, contemplating her options. "Tell me about where you grew up."

Lexa laughed. "It was called Rat Portage until 1905."

"Dare I ask why?" Clarke laughed softly into the worn fabric of Lexa's t-shirt.

"I'm sure you can guess. The goalie shifted her long frame, allowing Clarke to rest more of her weight on her.

"It's small, not as small as your hometown, but small enough. In the summer, it's full of tourists and mosquitoes. In the winter the only things to do are hole up in a bar and drink, or play hockey."

Lexa fought a grin, giggling to herself. "Actually, there was one other thing to do in the winter."

She pinched Clarke's side playfully and earned a finger jab in return. "Very funny," Clarke murmured. "I suppose that means you broke lots of hearts."

Lexa scoffed. "Hardly. There wasn't exactly a plethora of sapphically inclined girls at Beaver Brae Secondary School."

Clarke choked on a laugh. "That wasn't the name of your high school, was it?"

"It was, indeed. Our mascot, somewhat incredibly, was the Bronco."

"Wait," Clarke raised one eyebrow. "Your high school was named Beaver Brae, but your mascot was a horse?"

Lexa shrugged. "It's Canada. We try to avoid redundancy by not doubling down on beaver themed everything."

"Anyway," the brunette smirked, tracing the edge of the dimple that appeared in Clarke's cheek each time she smiled. "There were a few curious girls at a handful of parties, but I was hardly breaking anyones heart. Most people didn't come out until after high school."

Clarke raised her eyebrows inquisitively. "Was it hard being out where you grew up?"

Lexa's brow furrowed in thought, her mouth puckering to side as she considered the question. "Maybe a little," she shrugged. "I mean, Canadians don't care that much about gay stuff. Mostly, Kenora was just small. There weren't that many of us. Not much point in being out if there isn't anyone to date." Lexa ran the tip of her finger over the helix of Clarke's ear, eliciting a soft moan from the blonde. "People knew though. Nobody gave me too hard a time."

Clarke continued to savor the feeling of Lexa's touch as the brunette's fingers moved from the top of her ear to the soft skin of her neck. She closed her eyes, relishing the way it made her spine tingle.

"What about you?"

Clarke's eyelids fluttered open. She stared at the olive-skinned girl whose fingers were now tracing the lines of her ribs. "What about me?"

"What were you like in high school?"

"Focused." Clarke rolled her eyes, thinking back to life in her tiny Minnesotan town. "I had a boyfriend for about six months during my sophomore year, but he took too much time away from hockey. "Plus," Clarke made a face remembering the hardships of making out when two sets of braces were involved. "He wasn't a very good kisser, so I ended things."

Lexa tried not to laugh. "Poor guy. He must have been devastated."

"Perhaps, but I'm sure Brock Larson managed to move on."

Lexa bit her lip, trying not to laugh. "You high school boyfriend's name was Brock?"

"Yes, it was." Clarke laughed at the memory fo her first boyfriend, a tall, skinny young man with sandy blonde hair who had been the object of every sixteen-year-old girl's affection. "My friends thought I was crazy to break up with him," she smiled. "He made boy's varsity as a freshman and was related to Dave Christian on his mother's side."

"Dave who?" Lexa cocked her head to the side, lost as to about who Clarke was talking.

"Dave Christian?" Clarke waited for Lexa to recognize the name. "The Lake Placid Olympics? Miracle on Ice? NHL player?"

Lexa shrugged.

"He is one of the eight Olympic hockey players who've come from my town."

"Damn!" Lexa's eyes went wide "Are you guys running a breeding program?"

"We have an algorithm," Clarke deadpanned. "Anyway, dad got sick right after I broke up with Brock. After he died, I kept to myself and concentrated on hockey. I had to focus on getting a scholarship. I didn't exactly have time for romance."

"So not much has changed?" Lexa grinned mischievously, squeezing Clarke's hip.

"Very funny." Clarke shifted her weight, settling into Lexa's chest. She laced her fingers into the brunette's hair and began running her hand through the mess of wavy curls. "I almost had a girlfriend in college, but it didn't work out."

Lexa savored the feeling of Clarke's fingers as they massaged her scalp. "Why not?"

"It's complicated." Clarke continued to work her fingers through the tangles in Lexa's hair. "People knew I was bisexual at college, but not at home. She wanted to date openly, and that was more than I could handle at the time."

"And now? "

Clarke sighed. "I think people back home suspect, but they've stopped asking. Besides, I've been so focused on the game for the last ten years that I've barely had time for myself, let alone anyone else."

"That sounds familiar." Lexa pulled Clarke closer. She enjoyed the feeling of the warm body pressed against her and thought of the many long nights she’d spent on the road, curled up in bed alone in a dingy hotel room. "It would be nice though."

"Hmm?" Clarke's hand stilled.

"To have someone." The goalie stroked the small of Clarke's back with the blade of her thumb, leaving goosebumps along her skin.

Clarke closed her eyes, imagining for a brief moment a life where obligations didn't bind her to team and county. "It would be," she smiled sadly, "but I owe too much to my team to lose focus right now."

Lexa nodded, trying not to feel disappointed at Clarke's response. "Well..." She leaned in, kissing the top of Clarke's head absentmindedly. "Maybe, one day, you and I will owe nothing more to our teams."

The blonde buried her face in the crook of Lexa's neck, inhaling the scent of her. "I hope so."

For a while longer they lay there, bodies enmeshed, minds close to sleep but never quite there. Finally, Clarke groaned, the ache in her leg getting the better of her. She pushed herself up on her elbows wincing as she pulled back the covers. "I think I better try to stretch this thing if I want to play on it again."

Lexa bolted upright at the statement, utterly confused. "I thought you said you were going to get it looked at?”

Clarke swung her legs over the far side of the bed, cautiously testing the amount of weight the injured limb could support. She stood up, wincing a little as she transferred a bit of her balance onto it. "I said I'd get it looked at if it wasn't better by today. It feels better."

"It looks worse."

"It always looks worse when it's healing,” Clarke said, brushing off the Canadian’s concern. She began hobbling towards the bathroom, and Lexa jumped up behind her, ready to catch her the moment the leg buckled. Remarkably the blonde managed to bear weight on it, limping into the bathroom on her own to retrieve the bottle of Motrin. She shuffled back towards the bed slowly and lowered herself onto the mattress with great effort.

"Lexa, it's a bad bruise. I'll be fine after some rest and ice. Besides, we don't have a game for two more days."

"Clarke..."

"Lexa, I'm fine." She swallowed several pills and scooted back on the bed, stretching the leg out in front of her as she reached for her toes. Carefully she bent forward, tensing her jaw as she began stretching the tender muscles.

"But..."

"I'm fine!" The words came out through clenched teeth, though Clarke managed to smile through the pain. "I promise."

Unsure of how to proceed, Lexa hung stiffly in front of the bed. She stared down awkwardly at the frustratingly determined captain, racking her brain for a solution. Thankfully, Clarke offered her one.

"Look, if you're that worried, we can meet up tonight. That way you can check on me."

"Meet up?"

"Yes, for drinks, maybe food.” Clarke smirked, as though Lexa had just missed the most obvious implication in the world.

"Food?" Lexa's eyebrows nearly shot up to the top of her head when she realized what Clarke was suggesting. "Like, in front of other people?'

"Unless you'd like to meet in secret." Clarke grimaced, continuing to stretch her stiff and bruised leg. "Or do you not want to meet at all?"

"No!" Lexa bit her lip, blushing at her outburst. "I mean, yes, I do. I'd like that."

Clarke rolled her eyes at the sudden ineptitude of the usually cocky girl, relishing the effect her invitation was having on her. "Ok, but let's meet off campus. " Clarke massaged her thigh, trying to work out the stiffness in the muscles. "Some of the girls went out into the city the other night. They said the Budnamu Brewery was great. Would 7 pm be alright?"

"I... Yeah, of course."

“Good, then it's a date."

"A date?"

"Yes, a date." Clarke deadpanned. "I mean, it's been a while, but I'm pretty sure the kids still call it that."

"It's a date," Lexa nodded dumbly, stunned that Clarke was asking her out, and in public no less.

"I should shower." Clarke struggled to her feet and cast a furtive glance at the bathroom door.

"You should shower." Lexa's head wagged up and down, too dumbfounded to pay much attention to what Clarke was saying.

"Lexa...?"

The goalie looked up, snapping back to reality. "Oh, Right!" She cleared her throat, trying not to turn red. "You shower. I should go." Lexa grabbed her sweatshirt from the chair in the corner, hurriedly pulling it on over her head as she mussed out her wild mane and shoved her feet into the boots that lay haphazardly by the bed.

"7 pm at Budnamu Brewery?

Clarke nodded.

"And you promise to get your leg look at if it starts bothering you?"

Clarke nodded.

“Ok. I’ll see you at seven."

Lexa turned to leave but was stopped by a small hand grabbing her elbow.

"Wait." Clarke bit her lip nervously, hesitating. Slowly, she leaned up on the tiptoes of her uninjured leg and pressed her lips to the corner of Lexa's mouth, delivering a soft kiss.

"Thank you for staying."

---------

Lexa was in a daze as she drifted down the hallway and boarded the waiting elevator, nearly forgetting to press the button for the first floor. Clarke had asked her on a date. It felt almost too good to be true, and yet it had happened. Lexa had the text confirming the details on her phone. She could barely contain the smile on her face as she floated through the elevator doors and into the cavernous lobby of the dormitory. Nothing in the world could bring her down at the moment.

"Lexa Woods?”

Nothing, except for the sound of her name coming from the stern looking man in the dark grey suit. He approached her from the cafeteria, and out of the corner of her eye Lexa watched as Raven slipped away, apparently having just finished a conversation with him. The man held his hand out for her. "Marcus Kane. I'm the head coach of Team USA Women's hockey."

Lexa took his hand and shook it firmly. "Nice to meet you, Sir."

He smiled politely, his appearance losing some of its gruffness. "May I speak with you a moment?" He gestured to a small lounge just off the entrance to the main lobby.

Reluctantly, she agreed, following him to a suite of armchairs tucked in the back. The goalie took a seat across from him, trying to ignore the way her heart pounded in her ears as he watched her.

"So," he began earnestly. "I believe I owe you a debt of gratitude. I hear you cared for an injured player of mine last night, Clarke Griffin."

Lexa nodded apprehensively. “I did."

Kane looked solemn as he contemplated the young women across from him. "I understand that you two have been spending some time together. Am I correct in that understanding?"

Lexa nodded again, her pulse racing as she worried about the direction in which their conversation seemed to be headed. "That's correct, Sir."

He furrowed his brow, his expression grave. "Miss Woods, given your respective positions on opposing teams, you understand that the two of you spending time together could be construed as…” Kane searched carefully for the right word. “Inappropriate?”

“Yes.”

Kane purses his lips for a moment, analyzing her answer skeptically. Finally, his expression softened. “Luckily, I considered Miss Griffin's integrity to be unimpeachable. However, should the two of you choose to continue to see each other socially, I would advise you to proceed with the utmost discretion.”

Lexa nodded vigorously. "I understand, Sir."

"Good then." Appearing satisfied, Kane patted the armrest absentmindedly. "In that case, Miss Woods, I only need to ask one more thing of you."

Lexa swallowed, dreading his next question.

"What's that, Sir?"

"I need to tell me whether or not my team Captain is hiding an injury from me."

Lexa's heart nearly jumped out of her chest. It pounded like a bass drum, thumping in her ears and drowning out the hum of the lobby around them.

"I... I don't."

"The truth, Miss Woods."

At that moment Lexa's conscience was entirely at war with itself. Lie, and she put Clarke at risk. Tell the truth and she would betray her trust. Neither one was an attractive option, and she shifted nervously in her seat, unwilling to choose either.

"Lexa..."

She sighed, resigning herself to the lesser of two evil. Surely, Clarke couldn't fault her for being concerned.

"She says it's fine but, it looks pretty bad. She can walk on it a little but.…” She bit her lip nervously. "I think she's probably fine," she back peddled, attempted to reassure him. “Maybe she should have a doctor look at it though, just to be safe."

Kane smiled at her, smoothing out the wrinkles in his pant legs as he rose. "Thank you for your honesty, Miss Woods."

With that, he started towards the elevators, leaving Lexa to dread her decision.

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letsbenditlikebennett · 4 years ago

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Conversations with Dead People || Ariana & Kaden

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @chasseurdeloup & @letsbenditlikebennett ft. a special dream brought to life guest SUMMARY: When Ariana goes to Kaden to drop off a fresh batch of treats for Abel, she asks him some serious questions and some dreams come to life. CONTENT: Grief

With the full moon that recently passed, Ariana had a fresh new batch of venison dog treats for Luna and all her other favorite dogs in town. Making dog treats served as a good distraction to the feeling of lead in her chest weighing her down as she tried her damnedest not to think of Winn. Everything was still too fresh and she needed to keep her mind occupied to keep from totally losing it. With dog treats done and stew in the slow cooker, she had decided to deliver Abel’s treats over to Kaden’s. He was expecting her, but the sense of dread she felt about seeing him wouldn’t go away. She had to ask though. She didn’t smell him on the scene, but something about the scent near the gunfire was off. Familiar but not at the same time. She needed to know it wasn’t him. She needed to know that not letting Winn speak up about Kaden the last time the pack got together didn’t cost Winn his life. She couldn’t keep carrying the blame in her that two people she loved died because of her careless and naive actions. The circles under her eyes kept growing darker and she knew they were still puffy as she knocked on his door. “Hey,” she greeted more quietly than normal as he opened the door, “I wanted to bring these by for Abel.” She held up the ziploc bag full of venison jerky and biscuits. “I was also hoping you’d have a bit of time to talk?” She looked up to him now, pleading evident in her tired eyes.

Abel always knew when someone was at the door before Kaden did. “Hold on, calm down, stop barking,” he said to the dog as he got up from the couch. Ariana told him she was coming over to deliver treats, should be a quick hand off. It didn’t make sense to him how much he seemingly liked the girl. She was kind and caring and a pain in the ass a lot of times, not unlike Blanche. But she was also a werewolf. Very much so. He felt the chill down his spine before his hand had even reached the doorknob. Putain, he couldn’t make sense of it. Why did he care at all? And why was she being nice to him? He knew why. Deep down he did. Celeste. Something about her sister tethered them together. But at a certain point, when was it still respecting his fallen friend and just being friends with a werewolf? Kaden wasn’t sure. And he was going to keep putting off that question. Because this was going to be a quick and simple hand off. “Hey,” he said as he opened the door. Shit. Why did she look so rough? No. It didn’t matter. “Thanks for the treats.” He was about to take the bag and close the door, Abel’s nose nuzzling out around his side, trying desperately to push his way to the girl for pets. “Abel, stay back, we’re not-- Wait, you were?” His brow furrowed, mouth pulled into a thin line. Shit, she really did look upset. He could still say no. Say he was busy. Tell her to go away. But he looked in her eyes and sighed. “Yeah, sure, come in.”

There was always a certain hesitation that came with their in person interactions that threw Ariana off guard. She guessed it wasn’t too surprising considering what they both were. By nature, they were supposed to hate each other, but somehow she couldn’t bring herself to hate someone her sister had cared for. Especially, when it bridged the gaps between their two worlds in the way. She had to believe that Kaden saw her as a person, it was clear he wanted to keep her out of harm’s way and that wasn’t just some loyalty to Celeste. It didn’t put her stomach at ease though. Part of her wanted to cling to the idea that he’d never be so reckless as to shoot a wolf in human form point blank in the middle of town, especially as a cop, but she had to know. “Yeah,” she answered, her voice still sounding ragged from lack of sleep and too many tears cried. She followed him into his apartment and reached a hand out for Abel to sniff. A weak smile formed on her lips as he seemed eager to greet her. She gave his head a few gentle pets before flopping onto Kaden’s couch. She fidgeted with her hands a moment, not entirely ready to dive into the questions she had, but she knew putting it off was only going to increase the tension. “I,” she started and decided to look up to him, “I don’t want to accuse you of anything because I don’t really think you’d-- I mean you’re a cop, you wouldn’t just shoot someone in the middle of town even if they were a wolf, right?” She did her best to fight the tears that were threatening to spill over. Whatever the truth was, she needed to deal with it. Nothing was going to change the fact her friend was still dead, but at least she’d know if she really did need to put some distance between herself and Kaden.

Kaden’s mouth pulled into a thin line as he pulled the door open to let her in, shepherding Abel behind him. It didn’t matter much, the dog was immediately at her side, asking for attention. At least one of them was perfectly at ease with the whole situation. As she parked herself on the couch, he crossed his arms and leaned up against the chair across the way, still standing. It felt wrong, the idea of getting comfortable while it felt like ants were crawling down his spine. As much as he wanted sometimes to forget what she was, the world would never let him. Maybe it was for the best. His head tilted and he leaned in a bit as she fumbled, trying to find the words she was looking for before she did. And really, he should have seen it coming. “That’s what you wanted to ask,” he said painly, looking away a moment, trying to keep from rolling his eyes even a little. He was so fucking tried of fielding this question, but she was clearly upset, there didn’t seem to be a reason to twist the knife in if he could avoid it. “No, it wasn’t me.” He clenched his jaw and held back that he wouldn’t have hesitated to shoot Winn Woods as a wolf at any moment, especially knowing what he knew. “You’re right. I’m not stupid enough to shoot someone in the middle of the day right out in the middle of town.” He couldn’t tell why being asked if he killed a wolf was getting under his skin like this. Because he would have killed that wolf. And he wasn’t particularly upset that he was gone. And yet, somehow being asked over and over again whether or not he did it dug into him a little more. “What if I was, Ari? What then?” he asked, arms still crossed, eyes averting hers. It was probably stupid to ask. And not the time. But the question kept eating at him.

Any relief that it wasn’t Kaden who killed Winn quickly faded when Ariana realized whoever did was still out there. It wasn’t a comforting thought. Who was to say she wouldn’t be shot leaving the kids’ soccer practice one day. She didn’t believe it was right or that she had deserved as much, but neither had Winn. She nodded along slowly and remarked, “I didn’t think you did, I just…” She wasn’t quite sure. Her mind was tired and weary which made it harder to explain what was going on, but she could try. “I guess I just had to know it wasn’t my,” she cut herself off. Would it have really been her fault? Winn had cautioned anyone Kaden hurt after she insisted on not putting a target on his head was on her. Was she wrong to trust him? She wished more than anything Celeste was here. All she wanted to do was keep a part of Celeste alive with her and it was growing increasingly difficult when the world kept wanting to stomp out any shred of optimism and hope she had left. She shifted uncomfortably on the couch and it seemed the dog picked up on her tension. His next question was loaded and she had no idea what the answer was. “Honestly,” she answered, “I don’t really know-- I wouldn’t” She wouldn’t what? Hurt him? That much was apparent, she didn’t have it in her. Even if the belief she had in him becoming a better person was shattered, she still couldn’t kill him. Would she stop others from trying? She still couldn’t figure as much out. “I couldn’t hurt you. Which maybe that makes me stupid and naive or whatever the hell else has been implied when I didn’t let a bunch of wolves put an actual target on your head, but I’m just glad it wasn’t you. I’m glad it wasn’t my fault he’s gone. Celeste already--” She found it hard to finish the sentence as her voice cracked. Celeste being gone had been her fault as much as everyone liked to convince her it wasn’t. If she hadn’t insisted on staying in this stupid town, they’d be somewhere new and maybe she’d have to say goodbye to her friends, but Celeste would still be there.

Ariana hadn’t meant to let the tears well up in her eyes, but confronting this was hard and his question made her think of all the ways her own actions had cost her the people she loved. As she reached a hand to rub her eyes before any could fall, she let out a small gasp. She clutched the edges of her jacket sleeves and blinked a few times. She was still there somehow. This must have been a dream. She pinched herself and was still in the same room. She gave her face a small slap, willing herself to wake up if this was in fact a dream, but it turned out it wasn’t. Celeste was there wearing the same floral t-shirt she’d worn so many times before with a sad smile on her face. She’d seen her this way in dreams plenty of times, but she was awake now, wasn’t she? “Kaden,” she breathed out barely above whisper, “Turn around.”

Kaden resisted the urge to question why she had to ask him if she didn’t think it was him. She was just a kid. Sure, she was a werewolf, but sitting on his couch was a teenage girl on the brink of tears, too. He shifted, uncomfortable, not sure if he should offer comfort or just carry on as he was. Things were so much simpler when he just killed werewolves and didn’t let them into his life. Making exceptions complicated the rules. Along with everything else. Sometimes he wondered if his life wouldn’t have been better had he never met Celeste. No. The thought alone felt like poison, guilt seeped through for even considering it. There’s no way that was true. But if that wasn’t true, then it still left him here. Kaden continued to stand there, planned to let her sort out her feelings before jumping in. But then she elaborated. “When you what?” The creases in his forehead deepened as he tried to take on the full weight of what she said. “Hold on, a bunch of wolves knew I was a hunter? Did you tell them? But wait you stopped them from-- They were going to--” There were too many things stirring around inside him. He couldn't sort through the emotions bubbling up. Anger. That was easy to identify. But something else. Hurt? Was that… Fuck it, didn’t matter. Emotions weren’t productive. Answers first. He could figure out how the hell to feel about any of this later.

His fingers dug into his palm as he held his hand in a fist, arms still crossed in front of him, trying to keep it that way. Kaden should just leave her be. Let this interaction end and then keep some distance, not further complicate things. But putain, seeing her like that… His arms fell away and he took a tentative step towards her when she slapped herself. “Ari? Uh, what are you do--” His brow furrowed as she addressed him. “What? Turn a-- What are you talking about? Ari what are you--” He shook his head a little, her eyes clearly looking past him. Right. He slowly, carefully, pivoted on his heel to look behind him. And there she was. “Celeste?” His jaw fell open and he stood in stunned silence a moment. Was she a-- But she was-- She’d moved on. She had to. Right? She had to have moved on. And even then, since when could he see gh-- Kaden stumbled back and tripped over his coffee table and onto the floor as he scrambled away. He cursed and grumbled to himself before saying. “It can’t be. Ari, she-- It can’t be. ...Can it?”

The frustration began to seep in when Kaden didn’t recognize she’d done him a favor. Ariana narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, wanting to fight, even though it wouldn’t make her feel better at the end of the day. Winn would still be dead. Instead, she just grumbled, “No, I didn’t tell them you were a hunter-- I wouldn’t do that to you. Another wolf that you shot wanted to tell everyone. He’s dead now anyway so guess it doesn’t fucking matter.” She really needed him to meet her halfway here. Everyone advised her against having anything to do with him, but she still believed in him anyway. It’d be nice if he could act like she had done him a solid and protected him when that was what she was done, but all of that faded away when he said her name. When he saw that she was there, too. It couldn’t be though, right? Blanche would have seen her before now. If she was hanging around as a ghost, Ariana refused to believe she wasn’t with her so she told herself Celeste was at peace. If that was the case, how was she here? “You see her too,” Ariana questioned in a hushed voice.

Celeste’s figure took a few steps forward and Ariana felt her breath catch in her throat. Everything in her was screaming to reach out. Run and hug her. Do literally anything besides sit here dumbfounded, but she couldn’t shake that this wasn’t real. That if she reached out to touch her, she’d only fade away. All of that melted away when she spoke in the same gentle voice she used so many times before. “It’s me,” she said softly placing a hand on Ariana’s shoulder. It was enough for Ariana to give into the tears that had been threatening to spill over. She nearly left off the couch and into Celeste’s arm, burying her head in her chest and relishing in the familiar feeling of her sister running her hands over her hair. She was terrified to let go, terrified she’d wake up and everything would still be the same. “Shhh, you’ll be okay, Ari.” A few more pats on the head and Ariana finally pulled away. It sounded like her. Her body language was the same, but the question of how haunted her. “How are you here,” Ariana pressed, desperate for answers a not quite ghost wasn’t able to provide. “I’m not sure,” Celeste answered and turned to Kaden. She looked between her sister and her friend, “You’ve both come a long way I see.” She reached out to Kaden now, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder and noted, “Nice bracelet.”

“Don’t get mad at me, I’m just trying to follow what happened! You dumped a lot of shit at once, putain! Like that there was a gathering of werewolves standing around deciding if they should throw my name into a pile to kill me,” Kaden spat back. He paused, pulled his mouth in a thin line and huffed out a breath through his nose. He shouldn’t be lashing out at her. She was upset and angry and falling into it himself wasn’t going to help matters. Still he could feel the pin pricks along his spin and rolled his shoulders back to try and roll away the tension. “I’m not trying to-- I’m just trying to figure out what you’re talking about.” If only he had some of Celeste’s patience right about now. It might do them both some good.

While he craved some help from her, the last thing Kaden expected to see was Celeste’s form. Right there in front of him. Talking to Ari. He wanted to watch the girl’s reaction, see if she noticed anything off, make sure they were on the same page, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from his friend. It didn’t make any damn sense. The creese in his brow deepened as her hand rested on his shoulder. “What? How? You--” He bit into his lip, trying to focus on the pain enough to hold back the tears pricking at his eyes. His eyes followed hers down to his wrist and back. Right. “Thanks.” No. Too late. Tears were coming. Kaden pressed his eyes shut and blinked what he could away. And crazy enough, she was still there when he opened his eyes. It wasn’t possible, right? He’d wanted to see her so desperately for months but now that she was there in front of him, he didn’t know what to say. All the questions he had and conversations he’d wished for faded from his memory. On top of that, he still wasn’t convinced this was real. He pushed himself up and slowly started scooting closer to Ari. Just in case this wasn’t really Celeste. “How do we know it’s you? I mean-- The bracelet. But--” How could they be sure?

There was no chance to explain herself even though Ariana could understand where Kaden was coming from. She couldn’t focus on that with Celeste here. There had been so much that happened in the past few months that she had been dying to share with Celeste. Now that she finally had the chance, she was drawing a blank. She searched for a flaw in her form or body language that would give away a fake, but everything about her was just as she remembered. She was afraid to blink, that she’d open her eyes again and she’d just be gone. Tears were still present in her eyes and it was clear Kaden had a fresh wave coming in, too. Neither of them had expected this, but she didn’t want it to end. “Is it really you? You smell like… well, you,” she murmured, still unsure of this whole situation. This wasn’t possible, right? Impossible things happened in White Crest all the time and she wanted more than anything for this to be one of those things.

Ariana looked to Celeste expectantly who had the same calm demeanor she’d always known. Celeste looked between them and Ariana shifted uncomfortably. Too much emotion was pulling up inside of her. With her gaze finally settling on Ariana, she answered, “You have a jagged scar on your right shoulder from when you fell out of a tree. You were eight and we’d been living in New Mexico at the time.” The memory one was a fond one and she added teasingly, “You refused to sit still as I stitched you up.” Ariana nodded slowly knowing that she never shared this story with anyone else and hadn’t just been thinking about it. That meant it had to be her. “I don’t know how you’re here, but I-- Please, stay,” she practically pleaded. Celeste frowned slightly, “I don’t know if I can, but I’m here now. I know I gave you that bracelet before I… I’m sorry if the arrival was untimely. So what exactly am I interrupting here?”

Every part of Kaden wanted to believe this was his friend back talking to him, some piece of her there to comfort them both. But he continued to inch closer to Ari in case this was all a trick, something fucked up spat out by this town to mess with them. The more she talked, however, the more he felt as if that wasn’t the case. But why was she here as a ghost? And they could see her. It didn’t sit right. At all. But he had needed to talk to her so many times and likely Ariana had even more moments like that, countless most likely. If he wanted it to be real, it was hard to fathom how desperately she wanted-- no, needed this to be true. Pushing aside the appeals to logic came easier every second that passed.

“It’s-- It’s alright,” Kaden said, pushing past the wobble in his voice. “I tried. I really tried to warn you. I’m so sorry, I tried. I saw them. I should have stopped them in that bar. I could have done something and I didn’t--” The words came falling out of his mouth faster than he had a chance to evaluate them. The lump in his throat cut him off and he wiped away the stray tears with the back of his hand. “Sorry, I-- Sorry. You’re just interrupting…” What even was this? He couldn’t say. His glance caught Ariana’s. How could he explain what was going on to the ghost of his dead friend when he didn’t even know. “Ari came to bring treats for Abel. And then we, uh, talked. She had questions. For me.” He was going to leave the rest to the werewolf to explain to the ghost. “But you-- Did you not move on? I was hoping-- I mean I thought you would. Is something wrong? Why can we see you?”

It felt as if her head was spinning and Ariana didn’t feel firmly planted on the ground. More than anything, she wanted this to be real. It felt real and it made her heart feel as if it could burst out of her chest at any moment. Yet there she was, the calm in the storm that somehow sent her spiraling and grounded her all in one fell swoop. Kaden’s admission tugged at her own heartstrings. He blamed himself, too. Reeled over the details of things he could have done differently just as she had these past few months. Her own tears were falling now, though she was failing to come up with the words. All she could bring herself to say in a choked whisper was, “Please don’t go.” Her eyes were pleading and Celeste had given them both softer, comforting looks. One she’d seen so many times before. One she wanted to perfectly etch into her memory so she’d never have to live without it again.

Ariana noticed Kaden kept close to her and she wondered if he noticed something she didn’t. Everything felt so real and Celeste assured, “Everything happened too quickly. This was always going to happen one day. You shouldn’t hold onto what could have been done differently.” Somehow, hearing it from Celeste made her feel a little bit better than she had been. “She’s right,” Ariana agreed even though she knew she’d been blaming herself, too. All she knew was this definitely wasn’t Kaden’s fault. She did want to hear his questions answered though. “I don’t really know. I remember what happened, but I don’t really remember anything since. I think I was? I’m not sure why I’m here, if there’s something deeper going on within the town, but I do know it’s nice seeing you together,” Celeste explained and added, “I don’t know if anything is wrong. I feel okay, but I don’t know how long we have.”

Kaden shook his head, unable to accept what she was saying. If he had just interrupted her mother and that other hunter, made a decision, done something, maybe things would have been different. His inaction had contributed to it all, he was sure of it. That wasn’t something he was going to let go of anytime soon. No matter who told him to consider otherwise. He sniffed and brushed his face with the back of his hand. “Doesn’t matter if she’s right, I’m going to hold onto that until the day I die. You can’t stop me.” Because she wasn’t around to. Ari, maybe. But he at least had age on her as a one up. It was surreal seeing his friend again. He was so sure he never would. Only in sad dreams, mostly nightmares. That was when most of the people he lost came back to him. Only in dreams meant to remind him of the pain. Still, Kaden found himself angling in such a way that he could protect Ariana, defend her maybe. Strange. He rolled his shoulders back and stepped away, just a touch. There was still so much unexplained, unreal, but he was still sure this was somehow Celeste. A part of her, at least. Something that wouldn’t hurt them. Well, not outright at least. He hoped. Putain, all the conversations he wanted to have with her felt stupid when faced with her. He wanted to yell at her for leaving him with so many unanswered questions and no one to go to. Instead, he figured his problems, his sadness, it paled in comparison to Ari’s. “I think you mean it’s weird,” he mumbled before turning to Ari. “But go on. If there’s not much time… It’s yours.”

Kaden had quietly urged her to use her time wisely though she couldn’t quite forget the blame he was carrying when this whole thing was decidedly her fault. There had been countless moments over the last few months that she had longed for Celeste to be there. So she could seek her guidance or show her a new project she’d been working on. Now that Ariana was finally looking at her again, the only thing that seemed to matter was one. “I love you,” she said quietly with tears freely falling, “I miss you so much. All the time. I don’t know what I’m supposed to…” There were so many things she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do about. So many different problems she wanted Celeste’s help with, but if their time was short, those didn’t matter. Every part of her wanted to cling to this moment. She was afraid to blink, afraid to move. She couldn’t lose her. Not again, but the comforting hand on her arm slowed her heart a bit. She even smelled the same. The faint smell of her floral perfume swirled with the aroma of cinnamon that clung to her from her countless cups of coffee. “I think you do. You’ve never needed me to know what’s right, Ari. I wish I could stay, make things easier, but I don’t know if I can,” Celeste assured her in the same soothing tone she always used.

Ariana leaned into her touch and nodded slowly. It was hard to believe she knew what was right when she seemed to be stumbling through life these days, but she’d hold on to those words. She’d tried to remember them when things got tough. As if sensing her distress, Celeste added, “Remember, you’re never alone. Even if I’m not here, you have people looking out for you. I know Winston and Ulf would do just about anything to keep you safe and happy. Even Kaden I’m sure would help if you needed him.” She’d given him a glance as she said the last part. Ariana quickly piped in, “He has.” Somehow it felt important that Celeste knew that and he knew she knew as much. She wished she could just stay. That none of this had to end, but people didn’t just come back from the dead without some serious magic. Nell had implied and offered as much. Words seemed to be failing her in this moment, so she just took Celeste’s hand. She tried to think of happy things to share with her, but was somehow drawing a blank. As she finally thought to tell her about trade school and her job, she heard a choked sound come from Celeste. She looked up horrified. No. This couldn’t be happening. This was every nightmare she ever had playing out in front of her in Kaden’s apartment of all places. The same knife was in her chest again and the blood spilled out just as it always had. “No,” she cried out, “Please, no.” She reached out for her as if she could help, but she faded just as quickly as she appeared and the breath hitched in her throat. Her stomach churned and she was sure she was going to be sick. Her legs felt weak beneath her and she let herself fall to the ground, refusing to look away from the spot where Celeste just was.

Kaden almost felt like he should leave the room, give them a moment. But his eyes couldn't leave his friend’s face, back from the dead. And he knew first hand, if he had more time to talk to his parents… He should walk away. But his feet were firmly planted. And something about this still felt too easy to be true. Still, her voice, just hearing it, even if she wasn’t talking to him, it was almost overwhelming. He had practically forgotten what it sounded like. It was a kick in the gut to think about how quickly things faded, how fleeting memories really were. He knew. He was no stranger to loss. But every time, he stupidly thought it might be different. At the mention of him, however, he looked away, a little sheepishly, catching his friend’s glance at the end. If he had to guess, it looked something like a flash of pride, gratitude maybe. The corner of his mouth pulled up into a small smile.

It quickly dropped as soon as Celeste, or whatever was masquerading as Celeste, started to bleed out in front of them. Kaden reached out for Ariana and pulled her away. He didn’t know what was happening, but he had enough distrust in the whole thing that he wasn’t going to reach out to save his friend. She was already gone. Her sister, however? She was real. He knew that much. And he owed it to Celeste. He owed this much. Still, it was like his hands were gripping something hot after a second; he wanted to drop his grip on her and jump away. That’s what he should do, what with all the feelings of spiders crawling along his back. But he didn’t. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but keeping her safe was more important to him than whatever comfort he felt. Which was stupid but he could chide himself later. Before he could shout anything, fight anything, the vision was gone. Just as quickly as it had appeared. His hand lingered on Ari’s shoulder as she collapsed to the ground. His knees were shaking and he wondered if he was going to join her down there soon. For now, he stood there, blinking. The sight was replaying in front of him every time his eyes shut and open. “That was…” It was how she died. He knew it. “She… She looked like…” Kaden swallowed back the lump in his throat. “It wasn’t her. Ari, I’m sorry. It wasn’t-- She didn’t die again. Ari, it’s--” He didn’t even know what he was trying to say. Because it wasn’t fine. Or alright. And even if it was, he sure as shit didn’t feel fine. He opened his mouth to try and say something else but all he found was air. His hand gripped her shoulder a little tighter as he felt tears pricking the corners of his eyes again. “I’m sorry,” was all he could manage.

Ariana hoped like hell that she would just wake up and this would float away to be nothing more than a quick sting that’d be forgotten as soon as she got moving for the day. The longer she sat there on his floor, the more apparent it became she was stuck with the weighted feel in her chest that kept her glued to the floor. At least if she woke up, it’d feel distant. At least when it happened, there was someone to lash out at, but she was stuck with this feeling now. There was no outlet but heave in breaths that felt entirely too shallow. The only thing keeping her grounded was Kaden’s hand on her shoulder that surprisingly remained there. She trembled on the ground staring at the spot where Celeste stood only moments ago as if by sheer willpower, she could just reappear again. It wasn’t going to happen though and she struggled to catch her breath. Kaden’s words only barely registered in her ears with the pressure building up in her head. “That was how she,” she barely croaked out the words, but knew he could hear her anyway. Knew she didn’t need to bother finishing the sentence.

The edge of emotion was evident in his voice, too, and somehow helped guide her anguish toward anger. Ariana’s fists clenched in her lap though they still shook. Whatever had the nerve to take her sister’s form and put both of them deserved more than her rage. Her breath still continued in huffs and she finally agreed, “It wasn’t her.” But it looked so much like her. Smelled so much like her. Even her words sounded exactly like something Celeste would say and followed the same cadence. It had felt so real and had been ripped away from her again so violently. Maybe she had deserved as much. If she had only been more cautious, Celeste would still be here and nothing would be imitating her. No amount of wishing she had done things differently would change that though. So she sat there, defeated on the floor letting the tears flow freely. She’d been stupid to believe that Celeste could have really been there just like she had been stupid to believe they could just live their lives as normal in one place while the Aquillas had still hunted them. She guessed she was stuck living with both of those things now.

#wickedswriting #conversations with dead people #kaden #grief tw

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melbee · 4 years ago

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Electric Love

Chapter 1

A David Lee Roth Fanfiction

To love is nothing...

To be loved is something..

To love and be loved in return is everything..

-anon

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

September 1982

“I’m ready to quit this lame-ass job.” My best friend, Holly said as she flung her wet rag to the wall in the kitchen, an exasperated sigh leaving her lips as she made her way to the lockers in the back. She shuffled through her bag grabbing her pack of cigarettes. “I’m taking a smoke, are you on break yet?”

I diverted my eyes from my frazzled friend to the clock and nodded my head. “Just about, I’m sure he’ll spare me a few minutes.”

Holly laughed, “Don’t tell him, he might figure something out for himself.” She referred to our boss and manager at the diner we worked at. He was a bit of a heavier set man, with glasses way too big for his face, and a mind that suited his physical appearance. Let’s just say he was lacking in the common sense department.

I just laughed and shook my head, as I grabbed a glass of water from the sink, and followed my friend out to the back of the diner. It was dimly lit, only a singular bulb hung outside, making most of the front visible, but if you tried to look farther out into the bushes you couldn’t see a thing.

I heard the click of the lighter and watched a flame flicker from the corner of my eye as I turned my head. Holly now had a cigarette hanging loosely from her lips as she lit it, taking a long drag before leaning against the wall breathing out a funnel of smoke. “I don’t think at 23 we should be feeling as if we’re 50 and have nothing to lose anymore.”

I leaned against the wall too and looked at her solemnly. “Then why don’t we quit?” I asked her.

She finally looked at me with a grimace and shook her head. “Where would we go? What else is there for us? Or excuse me- what else is there for me? You’ve got that bachelor’s degree in art and design…”

I gave her a pointed look. “A degree I was foolish to get, I have nowhere to apply myself!” Raising my hands in the air. “I thought moving here would do something.” I watched as she grabbed a comb from the back pocket of her jeans, and started pulling at the tops of her hair and fluffing the bits at the end.

“Rosie, I think we both knew staying in Arizona, was not going to be a wise career choice,” she said as she laughed, taking another puff of her cigarette, gently tapping the ash away.

“That’s not true, they have wonderful historical art of civilizations that lived-”

“Rose, we’ve got deserts and old Hollywood cowboys, that art excuse is irrelevant,” Holly replied as she groaned, rubbing her temples. “You need to go where everyone goes.”

“Where’s that?” I asked accusingly. I was partially hurt by her outwardness about my decision to stay in my hometown, but I knew it was all in-kind spirit.

“Where do you think? California! The Mamas and the Papas sang about that damn state for a reason.” Holly spoke.

“California? I don’t know Hol… If everyone goes there, then why should I go? There are so many talented people there.”

“Because… you’re a talented babe! Everyone who’s scrapping the bottom in Hollywood and the sunset strip, ain’t got shit on you girl. You’re an actual artist, and you’re classy. Plus you’re smoking hot. And I’d say that’s a winning combo right there.” She said as she looked at me with a grin, coming off the wall. She stuck her cigarette into her lips as she grabbed her comb and start fixing my hair. “Plus, anybody would kill for your hair. You effortlessly have hair that every flat, spaghetti-stranded girls dream of!”

I smiled at her, beginning to giggle before I heard the bang of the door as it opened, and begrudgingly, our boss with his thick neck and wobbly feet, stumble towards the open air. He sniffed the air as if he was a pesty rodent, before turning his head and fixing his beady eyes at us.

“GIRLS! I’ve got a crowd coming in! Get off your ass! I don’t pay you lowly bitches for nothing!” He said as he muttered shrinking his eyes onto Holly who was still smoking.

Holly narrowed her eyes dropping her cigarette down to the floor as she began to speak, but I grabbed her hand to stop her. “We’ll be right in, come on Holly.”

He nodded his head before he waddled back inside, slamming the door shut.

I gave her a look and told her not to say a word as we both made our way back inside.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

“Are you sure you’ve got it Hol’?” I asked as we finally finished our shift at the diner, we had begun climbing down the steps toward the street when Holly remembered we had to lock up.

“I’ve got it, I have to put this into muscle memory anyways, after all my friends going to be a Hollywood sensation and I’ll be working till I’m 80.” She said as she snorted in amusement as she fumbled slightly with the keys before locking the door with a resounding click.

I rolled my eyes as she made her way to my side, shouldering her to stop her sarcastic comments. “That’s not true, after all, doesn’t the best friend always get the share of fame in the movies?”

Holly laughed as she wrapped her arm around my shoulder, “Not nearly enough as the protagonist, I think it’s better off if we sign a contract that I get 30%”

I gawked playfully. “30%! No way in hell!”

“Hey, it’s the best friend discount! I’ll split even with a solid 40% if you want.” She looked at me with a toothy grin, as I punched her arm. She pouted petting her shoulder in mock hurt. “Hey, you can’t do that remember? I bruise like a peach, my landlord will think I’m abused and alert the authorities.”

I laughed as we walked over to her car. I grabbed the door before stepping inside to the familiar smell of tobacco and lavender, “We’ll tell them your famous best friend will cover the costs.”

She buckled her seatbelt looking up to give me an approving look before laughing. “Now you’re starting to act like it. I’m proud.”

I rolled my eyes. “Holly, I was kidding. I just don’t know if I’m cut out for that kind of thing.”

Holly put the car in gear as we started heading down the road to my apartment, “Honestly Rose, do you want to spend the rest of your life here busing tables, bending over backward for people who don’t deserve it and wasting hard-earned time not doing what you love?”

I grew silent at what she had said. Honestly, I had no words, because I knew she was right. I wanted to make art through fashion, yet I lived in Arizona where statements of fashion have not been recommended since the turn of the century. Plus I had no other willingness for anything else, and I knew she was right; I had the tendency to be a bit of a pushover.

But I was working on it.

“Holly, it’s not that I don’t want to take that leap. I’m just-“

“Scared?” She replied as she turned the car onto the street where I lived, finally looking me in the eye with a face of concern. “The only thing we regret is the chances we didn’t take.”

She pulled into my apartment plaza, as she stopped near the entrance of the stairs, putting the car into park. She tapped her chipped fingernails on the steering wheel before she looked at me with a sigh. “Rose, I love you.. you know that right?”

I smiled as I nodded. I unbuckled my seatbelt, as I turned to face her, grabbing her hand in an attempt at comforting her.

She gave me a small smile as she played with my hands gently, smoothing each finger over one by one. “I was meaning to tell you this, but I just didn’t have the time..”

I gave her a confused look, and she sighed before releasing my hands and directing her eyes back to the front.

“Remember that time we helped that catering guy with the food at my cousin Vinny’s?”

I tilted my head in confusion before recognition grazed my face as I laughed in amusement. I distinctly remembered the summer we graduated we carried trays of wonderful, hot Italian food to tables, during a 100-degree dry spell. “Yeah, why?”

“Well, the catering guy happens to know a guy who lives in California. They’re close and well… Vinny is close to everybody so he’s gotten to know the guy and all.. well apparently he’s this designer in Pasadena or some shit. Anyways.. he’s looking for somebody to help him..”

It suddenly dawned on me what she was trying to say. “You mean..?”

She whipped her head toward mine as she looked at me with a bright smile, “Remember what I said about getting your ass out of this dry place?”

I laughed as I put a hand to my mouth, I was speechless. “I- Holly.. this is… How can I do this? What will I do? Where will I stay-“

“Rosie, the guys’ got it all covered. I’ll just tell him you’re interested and you can talk to him.. I’ll give you his number. But this is it, Rosie. This is the higher heavens calling out to you. It’s time you win.”

I gave her an anxious look, my mouth frozen in place, before spacing out the window. I had only one question left. “What does the guy design?”

“Outfits.”

I gave her a confused look, “For who?”

I watched as a wide smile appeared on Holly’s face before she bit her lip slightly.

“Rockstars.”

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

#david lee roth #vanhalen #fanfiction #david lee roth fanfiction #80s #80s fashion #classic rock

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agustdomain · 5 years ago

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A Slideshow of Road Lines {2}

Synopsis: They say oil and water don’t mix. What about oil paint and engines? He’s an artist reaching toward his dream while the girl with an engine heart is too busy trying to get her hands on the wheel. Is there a way for them to hold onto each other?

Word Count: 5k words

Pairing: Chris x Reader

Genre: college!au, artist!Chris, angst

Warnings: Language, Physical Illness (mentions and depictions of it)

Author’s Note: Would any of you be interested in a character index? I’m going to do it anyways haha but I want to know if that’s something you’d like to see. You know, just in case you need a reference. It is an expansive world after all. Also, I have a playlist specifically for this universe so if that’s also something you’d like to see... Without further ado...

! IMPORTANT NOTE ! This story is taking place in TWO DIFFERENT TIMES. When you see these flowers ❁, the story is shifting from present to past. There will also be a “Then” next to the day in order to further indicate that. If you have any questions, let me know!

> Part One <

DAY 4

Her head is bobbing, her mind dipping in and out of consciousness. Any moment now and she’s going to hit rock bottom, far beyond return.

This is what Y/N deserved for putting off studying for her calculus exam until the night before. The last time she checked the clock-when she was more awake than she is now- it had read 2:03 AM. That had given her a nice seven-hour window to study for the exam in which she was massively unprepared.

Truthfully, she’s been using this exam as her go-to excuse until it was wrung dry. It had been enough to deter worried Hyunjin more than once and barely sated Yeji who’s relentless with pestering her this entire weekend. Even Minnie senses something is off, leaving a Crunch bar at her door for the past three nights.That’s one reason she preferred Chuu over all of her roommates, because she knew when to keep her distance.

The Crunch bars, however, are a nice late night snack.

Her phone buzzing made her head slide off her poised hand, almost right into her desk. Yawning loudly, she scratches at her cheek as she squints down at her phone. Swearing at the brightness, she turns it down before focusing on the only notification that’s lighting up her screen.

Honey

My spidey senses are tingling… Delivered at 3:08 AM

She waits patiently for the three dots to reveal whatever else Hyunjin’s spouting at her this late at night.

Honey

They’re telling me my favorite girl is in need of Honey time...

and Pistachio ice cream. Delivered at 3:09 AM

Even though she’s been trying to avoid him as much as possible, Y/N can’t avoid the smile trying to nudge her lips. She barely began to type a response before he shoots another text at her.

Honey

Before you heartlessly reject me, I’m waiting at the front door. Let me innnnnn

Delivered at 3:11 AM

That’s how after almost failing to creep down the creaky ass townhouse stairs and stubbing her toe on Minnie’s skateboard, she finds a gentle smile and her favorite companion waiting for her.

“Get in here,” She hisses, ignoring his outstretched arms and opting to yank him inside.

“Ouch. Don’t have to be so rough,” He whines a little too loudly.

“Uh, yeah I do. Especially when there’s a dumbass walking around late at night asking to get himself mugged. Or worse, killed.”

“Let them try. You know I could take anyone who tries to come at me,” Posting up, he swings at an invisible opponent, the grocery bag hanging on his wrist making him look ridiculous.

“Shut up before you wake up the Wicked Witch,” Y/N whispers.

His gaze trails to the stairs before shaking his head, kicking off his shoes. “We really need to get Minnie ear plugs or something. I’ve spent enough time around to know she’s louder than a boat horn.”

Y/N has to stifle her laughter. He always knows how to pull it out of her, no matter how hard things are. “Come on, loser. Watch your step. The stairs-”

“Creak. Yeah, I know. You act like I haven’t been here before. Are you going to tell me every single time?”

Not even five seconds later, she hears the stairs creak from behind her. Slowly turning back to look at him, she merely shakes her head at the grimace on his face before leading the way.

Once they close the door behind them, she gets her phone to text the roommate group chat. It’s a rule they had implemented when they first moved in together: keep each other in the loop. To maintain a level of respect, they always let each other know what was going on/who they are having over.

Right as she’s going to hit send, she hesitates. Hovering her thumb over the send button, her eyes peer at Hyunjin. She watches as he observes the wall adjacent to her desk. It’s where she had put up all of her photos when she first moved in. These days, she avoids them considering a lot has changed. She really needed to take some of those pictures down.

Feeling her eyes, he meets her gaze and nods at her in question. Erasing the text, she tosses her phone to her bed before settling at her desk. Instead of facing her notes, she spins the chair to face Hyunjin.

“Honey.”

“Yeah?” He’s still distracted, eyes drawn to the photos but mind somewhere else. What a sight. It’s been a long time since she’s seen him appear so peaceful. She doesn’t want to disrupt that. Unfortunately, she does have an exam she’s studying for and time’s dwindling down.

All she has to do is tell him she needs to focus. Apologize and tell him he needs to go. Thank him for the ice cream but she really needs to finish studying and get some rest. Reassure him that she’ll call him tomorrow.

Five minutes later, both of their backs are pressed against the wall beneath the photos, pistachio carton comfortably between them.

“You know, I used to hate this flavor.”

Y/N glances at him, unbothered at his disruption of the comfortable silence. The spoon rests in his mouth, hands comfortably in his lap. She watches as his right hand twists the metal ring on his left middle finger. Something’s on his mind.

“I think I remember something like that.”

“Yeah, it used to taste like shit. Whenever you got it, I would wonder who made such a nasty ass flavor. Of all things to make as ice cream, they chose pistachio? They must’ve died a virgin.”

“Wow,” Y/N coughs out a laugh, feeling bad for the inventor of pistachio ice cream. Digging her spoon into the carton, she asks, “What changed your mind?”

“You, of course.” Her eyes snap up to meet Hyunjin’s gaze.

“What?”

“What do you mean, what? I’m telling you the truth.”

They hold their gaze for a moment before Y/N breaks it, spooning the bite into her mouth before pointing the accusatory spoon at Hyunjin. “That’s bullshit.”

“Fine, don’t believe me. Why would I lie about something so stupid?” He tries to ignore her pointed stare before he adds, “I don’t know, I guess it could be taste buds changing the older you get and shit. But it really was your fault.”

“If I take credit for it, then I’m taking credit for changing your life for the better.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

An intimate silence falls around them, one that’s distinctly Hyunjin and Y/N. She believes their silence is one of the many reasons they work so well. They never need to fill the silence, not like she does when she’s with Yeji.

“I’m sorry.”

Y/N swallows the ice cream in her mouth. Licking her lips of the leftover residue, her gaze flickers over to him. He’s trying, that much is obvious. It hurt her to know that she’s being difficult about it all. Even to a stranger, it’d be easy to see she’s avoiding all human contact the moment she heard Chris is back. Her friends are worried about her, yet they respect that she needs time.

It hurts her to see the plain turmoil written in Hyunjin’s body. He hasn’t stopped fiddling with his ring since they sat down. He has this extremely irritating habit of licking his lips. The act itself isn’t frustrating, it was the after effects of him complaining about his dry lips and begging for her or Yeji’s chapstick.

“For what?”

He glances at her before looking forward, his smile sad. “I know him being back is tearing you up inside. And there’s nothing I can do.”

“Hey,” she reaches out and pats his thigh, “You being here is all I need. Well, you and pistachio. The pistachio a little bit more.”

“Shut up,” He laughs, shoving her hand off. Letting the moment pass, he grows serious once more. “I mean it when I say I would do anything to take away your pain. Chris may be my friend, but you’re my number one. I would take your pain and double my own in a heartbeat.”

“Aw, Honey,” reaching over, she ruffles his hair. He secretly loves it, smiling when he swats her hand away again, “Thank you.”

He gives her a short nod before looking off to the side. Never one for appraisal, he avoids the topic. Hyunjin admitted once that compliments were different when it came from Y/N, something along the lines that he knew she was genuine. The thought always makes her sad, so she shoves it aside.

Poking his cheek affectionately, she waits for him to swat her hand once more before leaning her head on his shoulder.

Any thought of Chris or her calculus exam fades away in the presence of the one person who always knows the right words to make her feel better. In that position, she falls asleep as easy as it is when she’s in her bed back home.

~~~~

Y/N doesn’t know how much time has passed. All she knows is her neck is stiff and her body is aching as someone gently shakes her arm.

“Hey. Hey, Y/N. Wake up.” Her eyes shoot open, flinching upright. Scanning her surroundings, she calms down at the sight of Hyunjin beside her. Looking just as exhausted as her, he is waiting on her to respond.

Rubbing at her neck, she sluggishly leans back on the wall, muttering, “What time is it?”

“It’s 5.”

Her eyes shoot open, gawking at him. Even in his sleepy state, he cracks a smile. “5?! Are you messing with me?”

Fumbling for her phone, she swears as she realizes it’s dead. She stumbles to her feet beelining to her desk.

“Come on, come on,” She chants as she waits for her computer screen to turn on. Sure enough, he was right. It’s just after 5 AM. “Shit!”

“What time’s your class?”

“9! I barely even studied!”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” He utters, distracted by his sleepiness.

“Um, that’s not how this works. If I don’t know the material, I’m guaranteed a failing grade.”

“Relax. It’s going to be fine.” Hyunjin can barely keep his eyes open. Y/N, on the other hand, is as awake as a cat in the middle of the night.

“I’m going to shower and then study some more before class.” She’s talking more to herself than him, because when she’s in this mode, hardly anyone can snap her out of it.

He hums, clearly not paying attention as she rummages through her dresser for clothes. Straightening out, she regards him for a moment before heaving a sigh. “You can sleep in my bed. Just don’t, I don’t know, pee in your sleep.”

“Thanks,” is all he can muster before he sprawls his body across her bed and passes out the moment his head hits the pillow.

Without a glance, she heads to her bathroom.

~~~~

By the time she’s back, it’s around 10:15. Thankfully, she only had one class. She wants to punch herself, though, because she’s running on fumes and has an essay due at midnight tonight.

Y/N isn’t expecting Hyunjin to still be knocked out in her bed, pausing in the doorway seeing his figure tucked underneath her comforter.

She hovers at the foot of the bed for a moment, watching him. He’s out cold, so she reaches out and shakes his foot to see if he’d wake up. Narrowing her eyes, she silently starts complaining. Why was he born with the ability to sleep so deeply?

Grumbling, she mutters, “At least we know who’d survive if there was an intruder,” grabbing her only other pillow and lying down in the opposite direction. Looking at him one last time, she yawns, “You’re lucky I don’t kick your ass out,” Before slipping asleep as easy as he must’ve.

~~~~

When her eyes flutter open, she senses someone’s looking at her. Holding her head up, she peers at Hyunjin through one eye before letting her head fall back into her pillow. “What time is it?”

“It’s 5.”

“What?” She screams, scrambling up. Y/N’s already up and off the bed before she realizes he’s laughing. Slowly turning her head toward him, her glare doesn’t deter him, only serves to make him laugh even harder. Lying back down, she slugs him in the leg, his giggles turning to gasps through the pain.

“You’re too easy.”

“Yeah, you would be too if you were still half asleep.” With her eyes still closed, she asks him again for the time.

“It’s 1:30. Boy, can we sleep.” Looking over her shoulder at him, she holds back the urge to laugh at his wild hair saying hello to her. “What?”

“Nothing.” As if he read her mind, he tugs and pulls at the strands, patting his hair down. He knows her mind well.

She doesn’t say anything as she lets herself wake up, and he gives her time. Eventually, they’re both lying there scrolling through their phones. At least, she thinks they are until she glances at him and sees he’s staring off into space.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” his voice is soft, barely audible. Where’s he at? “I think I’m actually going to head out. I have a late class today. I’m going to grab food and then go home and shower.”

“Oh. Okay.” She’s confused at his sudden change up but doesn’t find it suspicious. That is, until he avoids looking at her as he shrugs on his jacket. Awkwardly, she hovers near him as he gathered himself together. “You sure you’re okay?”

Finally, he looks at her. Something’s off and it’s clear as glass in his face. He smiles it off, his tone too bright as he says, “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s go.”

They walk down the stairs in silence, her silence one of questions and his, one that’s indecipherable. They pause at the bottom of the steps, grabbing the attention of Chuu who’s lounging on their living room couch.

“Hey, Chuu. Long time no see,” Hyunjin holds up a hand in saluting. She just politely smiles back.

Y/N opens the front door, suddenly very afraid Hyunjin might tell her something before he leaves. Holding the door open, she watches him closely, looking for any signs of what he’s thinking. His face is void of any clues.

She holds her breath in anticipation as he steps around her, before smiling and walking out the door. She exhales in relief, not noticing his lingering walk. Opening her mouth, she readies herself to tell him goodbye. He beats her to the punch as he whirls around.

“Jisung is throwing something this weekend.”

Y/N’s heart sinks, crossing her arms as she retreats within herself. Hyunjin’s face falls, knowing all too well what that looks like. “That’s… great.”

“Y/N…”

“I think it’ll be a lot of fun. You’ll have to tell me all about it afterward.” Her hand grips the door and moves to close it, but Hyunjin’s arm jets out to stop it. Stupid baseball pitcher.

“I want you to be there.”

“Oh yeah?” Y/N winces at her loud and fake voice, glancing at Chuu before stepping outside. Hyunjin’s eyes are pleading, his palms showing as if he’s offering her a truce. That’s the thing. It isn’t his responsibility or his place to offer that to her.

She doesn’t know if he’s playing dumb or if he thinks he’s some hero, but he isn’t miraculously going to fix the damage done. No one, not even Chris himself, can convince her otherwise.

“Tell me something, Hyunjin. Do you think I’m stupid?”

“No…”

“Then do you think I’d really show up to something I know he’ll be at?”

“Well, the party is for him.”

“Don’t be a smartass,” She shakes her head, taking a step back. “If all everyone is going to do is try and push me to make an effort, news flash. It’s too late for that. Maybe that’s what you guys should’ve been doing right before he left.”

Hyunjin opens his mouth, but she holds up her hand, silencing him.

“Have fun at the party,” Trying to hide her disappointment in him, Hyunjin’s hurt expression is the last thing she sees before closing the front door.

Staring at the door, she follows the curves and swirls in the wood, all together but never touching.

“Are you okay?” Her eyes find Chuu, her wide and innocent eyes regarding her with so much kindness, her own flood with tears.

“I don’t think I am, Chuu.”

❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁

Day 8, Then

To Y/N, there wasn’t a form of satisfaction quite as fulfilling as turning in an assignment. It was even more satisfying, considering her major wasn’t the easiest one out there. The way life goes, when one stress disappears, another one takes its place.

Trying to ignore the boiling pot of emotions brewing inside of her, she kept her mind as blank as it could be as she packed her duffel bag with clothes for the weekend. She used anything that flitted across her mind and snatched onto it, anything to distract her.

She hoped she did well on the statistics exam she just took yesterday. Studying wasn’t too bad, so she could bear to have a little confidence. Eating lunch with Yeji today was a relief. She thought they might’ve been on bad terms since their last conversation, but everything was normal.

Hyunjin had kind of been M.I.A, but they had been texting normally so she wasn’t too concerned.

As she was gathering her toiletries from the bathroom door, she heard keys jingling in the dorm door before it clicked open. Low voices filtered out from the hall as Chuu entered.

“Y/N?”

“In here!” She finished grabbing everything before walking out, “Aren’t you supposed to be in class-” Just as she finished her sentence, both Chuu and Hyunjin turned to watch her walk out. He took in her presence before his usual honey smile found his lips. “Hey!”

Stepping forward, he did his signature greeting: arms around her, lifting her off the floor, ending with a sweet smile. “Hey.”

“To answer your question, I got out early. Now I can get back to the beautiful Rio and the yummy Profesor. Mmmm,” Chuu said dreamily, Hyunjin’s face scrunching up in confusion while Y/N laughed.

Walking over to her bed, the sight of her duffel slammed her back down into reality. Avoiding Hyunjin’s gaze, she stuck her toiletries in her bag before zipping it up.

“Are you leaving somewhere?”

“I’m going home for the weekend.”

“Oh shit, I didn’t know,” Hyunjin’s tone changed. That’s why she didn’t want him to know, “How are you getting there?”

“Mom’s picking me up,” Stop. Block it out. Distraction, anything. Turning to Hyunjin, she quickly shifted the subject. “What’s up? You didn’t text me and tell me you were coming over.”

Hyunjin tilted his head, deciding to let her dismissiveness go for the time being. She was thankful. “I figured you were going to be pouring your energy out over some assignment. I was wrong.”

She was supposed to laugh, but she couldn’t find the energy. He noticed, but didn’t press. Instead, he gently knocked his knuckles into her chin, to tell her chin up. It eased her heart, as it always did.

“Actually, I was dropping by to tell you about a little get together we’re having this weekend. Not sure if you remember, but we mentioned our friend Chris? His birthday is in a couple days so next weekend we’re all going to an arcade. There’s this deal they’re doing this month with pizza and endless gameplay.”

She blinked in surprise. He read her mind.

“What? Arcades are fun no matter how old we are. And Chris loves shit like that. It’s going to be a blast.”

“Are you sure he won’t mind me being there? I mean, I’ve never even met him.”

Hyunjin sat on her desk chair, back facing him. Drumming a beat on his thighs, he shook his head, “Trust me, he’s the last person to mind.”

“O-kay,” Y/N turned away, packing her backpack with school stuff she would need for the weekend, “I’ll see. If I don’t have too much homework, I’ll go.”

“Thanks,” A look passed over his face, making her pause, before he uttered, “At least you’re supportive and willing to give my friends a chance. Unlike Yeji.”

She didn’t know what to say. Yeji had actually said something to him. Unbelievable. “Are you two good?”

“I guess.”

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

“It’s whatever. You know how she is.”

“Yeah.” Their silence was a symbol of their mutual understanding. Many people would never be able to fathom the bond the three of them had. Their friendship was a treehouse they had grown and built themselves, no one else had access to the inside.

She jumped when Hyunjin reached around her and shouldered her duffel bag. Searching his eyes, she imagined what he was thinking. Perhaps he was wondering why his cousin was making his life difficult. Y/N wished she had the solution and hoped Yeji would come around- though in all the years they’d known each other, she was as stubborn as a hangnail.

“I’ll walk you down.”

“Okay.”

~~~~

The wave of suffocation that washed over her was hard to shake off as she stepped into her childhood home. It was and it always had been her sanctuary. The same living room, the same kitchen, the same dining room table with mismatched chairs from different sets over the years. The same family photos scattered about, the same stains in the carpet. The same love in her heart for her parents.

Except it would never be the same.

Right after her high school graduation a few months ago, her parents told her that her dad wasn’t well. It wasn’t a cold, a flu, it wasn’t something he would get over in a month or two. It was something bigger than life itself, one that could command death with the clap of its hands.

She hated it with every single fiber of her being.

How could one illness dictate the paintings of memories? Now, she didn’t look at family photos of her and her dad and feel joy, only pain for a memory not tainted yet? When she smelled their laundry detergent in the air, she wondered if it would cover up her father’s scent in the unforeseeable future. It was morbid, it was suffocating.

Her sanctuary became her prison overnight.

“Your dad’s lying down in the room. If you want, you can bring him a snack,” Her mom suggested, Y/N nodding as she swallows the pool ball in her throat. She tried to ignore the paleness to her mother’s skin. Eyes bloodshot, body sluggish from lack of sleep. An alternate reality of the woman she once knew.

Her mom disappeared into the kitchen as Y/N shakily took off her shoes. This wasn’t the first time she had been home since she moved on campus, but she wasn’t used to the shift in her home. She probably never would be.

Just as she placed her bags down, her mom reappeared with her dad’s favorite snacks: Ritz crackers and sliced up cheese. In her other hand, a glass of orange juice.

“Thanks, mom,” Y/N didn’t recognize her own voice. She pretended not to hear the crack. Her mom ignored it, too.

“He’s going to be so happy to see you. All day, he’s been talking about you coming home.”

The words were a smack across the face-no, they were a hand reaching into her chest and breaking her ribs in half.

Her mind blanked.

And then she was in front of him. He was physically smaller than who used to be, his face pale and his hair greasy, but his spirit was just as scorching. His eyes were trained out the window, lips pursed in thought. His body might’ve been worn down, but his spirit would always be as bright as a fury.

She fought the urge to cry. Setting the glass down alerted him of her presence. At the sight of that same old smile she knew too well, all of her pain was washed away.

“Y/N, my girl. You’re home!”

“Hey, dad.”

His hugs were still strong, encasing her and letting her know she was safe.They talked for a bit, her heart swelling as she watched him eat his crackers. He asked her about school, he told her about what he’d been watching on tv these days. They even sidetracked and chatted about the new cars set to release this year. Hardly anyone knew it besides her best friends, but her and her dad shared even the smallest things in common- like their interest in cars.

When he invited her to watch a movie, she sat beside him on the bed and took a cracker when he offered. He put on some cringe comedy that they both made fun of, which is what really made them laugh.

There wasn’t any true remedy to her stress, to her unhappiness, like being home was. And her dad? Laughter was as natural as breathing when she was with him. Halfway through the movie, her mom joined them. She pretended she was okay just like her mom did, but with her dad cracking jokes it was easier to keep up the facade.

Once the end credits rolled, her eyes trailed to her dad. His eyes were distant, elsewhere. With one glance, she was reminded of a reality she hated. Noticing her staring, he shook it off and smiled beneath his moustache.

“Your dinner is in the microwave, Y/N,” Her mom told her. Y/N took that as a chance to breathe, standing up slowly. Right before she made it out the door, her dad called for her.

“Before I forget, here,” He shuffled through his bedside table before finding what he was looking for. Her mouth worked on its own, rejecting what he was clearly doing as he pulled out money from his wallet. The stern hush from him silenced her protests. “I want you to remember to treat yourself. I know how you get when you’re stressed. You don’t give yourself time to breathe. So treat yourself with this money, okay?”

“Dad…”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

~~~~

Several hours later, Y/N awoke from her already restless sleep. Her head was throbbing, her eyes puffy and nose runny, so she sluggishly made her way to the bathroom and cleaned herself up before deciding to go get some water. Quietly, she went down the stairs and turned the lights on in the kitchen.

She didn’t spend that much time in the kitchen, not anymore. Whenever she was home now, she wasn’t very hungry.

Just as she reached the halfway mark of her glass, her dad’s voice startled her and made her spill the rest all over her shirt. Her shock quickly dissolved into amusement as he tried not to laugh.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry,” She side-eyed him as he slowly made his way to the dining table. She knew he would get upset if she offered to help him. “What are you doing awake?”

“I have a lot on my mind.”

“Like what?” She asked, dreading the answer but asking nonetheless.

“The past,” He casually said, his eyes elsewhere once more. “Actually, I was thinking about when you were little.”

Y/N froze with her hands on the banana she had just taken off the bunch. She must’ve looked ridiculous, frozen like that. It was a good thing it was only her and her dad there, then. “Oh yeah?” She needed to get a handle on this. “What were you thinking of, exactly?”

He smiled to himself, then, and as he began to tell her a story, his voice coaxed her into the past.

“You had to have been six or seven, maybe eight. I had gotten off work early and decided to get you out of school early, too. You were so happy, not to see me, but to be out. Back then, you weren’t so wound tight about your studies, you know,” He teased her then, pointing a finger at her, “You wanted to be a grizzly bear when you grew up. Well, that day, when I was buckling you into your carseat you kept on saying, ‘Daddy, I’m so happy you’re here! You’re here! I’m so happy! Thank you, Daddy!’ I mean, I was your hero all because I picked you up early.

“After grabbing lunch, we were walking around the mall. Usually, you asked for candy or if we walked past a toy store, you wanted everything in it. That day was different. We walked past one of those off-brand shoe stores. You set your eyes on the most different pair of shoes I’ve ever seen. I mean, they were bright orange with blue shoelaces! And on each shoe, there was a drawing of a red bear.”

He paused in the story, and she looked away at the sight of his shining eyes. Laughing to himself, he continued.

“You said, ‘Daddy! That’s me! I’m a bear! Can we get those shoes? Please?’ I pretended to think about my answer, but I knew I was going to get whatever was at the end of the most pure adoration on your face.” Y/N blinked, realizing the story was over. They soaked in the feeling together, the ticking of the clock on the wall the only sound filling the kitchen. Except, it wasn’t the only sound. Even if she didn’t remember what he was talking about, she could picture those shoes as if she still wore them.

“Let’s go to bed, Dad.”

He nodded, both of them looking at each other and wishing they could rewind time. He, for nostalgia. She, to avoid the pain.

“Come on,” He said, wrapping his arms around her shoulder and kissing the crown of her head, steering her out the kitchen.

When she made it back to bed, she found it easier to fall asleep. Chest lighter, she seized the opportunity to ignore all of the overwhelming heartache that seeped into her skin whenever she was home.

> Part One <

> Part Three <

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dontdietwd · 4 years ago

Text

Day 65, part 1

Daryl was snoring. Not too loud, I could probably go back to sleep if I tried, but the contrast with the deep silence of the shared room and the corridor woke me up with a start. For a second I couldn’t picture where I was, the shriek cry of a baby that had been only in my dreams fading to nothing as I looked around trying to understand the singing crickets and cicadas’ absence. On the couch by the cot, now not reeking any sort of smell, Daryl didn’t even more a muscle, his low, constant snoring lulling my heart back to a normal beat.

A clock on the wall above the door showed it was early morning. At camp, the group would be up and about by now, woken up by the growing heat inside the tents. The silence showed it was not the case this morning. I thought it was good; these people deserved a lie in to get some rest.

I got up, though, and padded silently to the tiny adjoining toilet, where I found a small pack with disposable toothbrush and paste. Making a mental note to put it in my bag later if we ever had to leave this place, because the toothpaste I had brought from home was being scrapped out of the package already, I brushed my teeth, drank water from the faucet and washed my face before tying back my headful of dreads. Daryl was still snoring when I quietly left the room.

Jenner was in the cafeteria, the same we all had had dinner the previous night, behind the counters filling a mug of fresh coffee.

“Good morning,” he told me with a small, forced smile. “I think I probably shouldn’t offer you coffee.”

“Oh,” I said as I stood on the other side of the counter. “’Cause pregnant women shouldn’t drink coffee?”

“Well, yeah, people say. I wouldn’t know, I’ve always focused on other areas of medicine.”

“Right. Yeah, it’s – so you got the result then.”

“Yep,” he popped after a sip of coffee.

“Right. Yeah…” Ilooked down with both hands on the counter.

“Mazel Tov,” he said saluting with his mug and I looked at him again, snorting a laugh.

“Yeah, thanks. Fuck…”

Jenner went silent, staring at me with his brows creased. I didn’t know him at all, but it seemed to me that he was worried and thoughtful, maybe.

“Hey, I’m the girl in trouble here having to give birth and raise a child during the end of the world. Why’d ya look like that?”

“Well... it’s, uh… That’s it, isn’t it? A child, the dead…”

“Yeah, I’m a bit more positive now that we’ve found shelter,” I crossed my arms and stared up at him. “Right? We didn’t talk about this, I know, but I was wondering how this works. I got a big group, an elder man, a child, these women who are just now learning how to defend themselves… And now I got a bun in the oven confirmed, so I’d be kinda worried if we got to go back out there. This place might’ve saved our lives,” I paused and looked at Jenner for a moment. He had rested his mug down, still staring at me. “If we don’t stay, well... Gotta be prepared for this, anyway, you know, women’ve had babies for hundreds of thousands of years in nature, living in caves, defending helpless kids from animals and whatever…”

I then took a deep breath, suddenly nervous about the prospect, contrary to my words. Having it confirmed and my otherwise flat stomach showing turned everything even more real, scarier, and the timing of the unfortunate accident this pregnancy was just stunned me.

“I must say,” Jenner started after a few seconds of silence. “I’m impressed by your positivity. Really,” he looked down, nodding to himself, lips tight.

“Okay, what is it, Doc?” I lost it, but tried not to be rude. “I ain’t blind, alright? You ain’t just worried about some random pregnant person who you met. What is it? What you worried about? You ain’t gonna let us stay here, is that it?”

He looked up quickly holding out a hand to me, “Hey, it’s – it’s nothing, ok? Just –” he started walking backwards, away from me. “Don’t worry about it now. I just – I have work to do. Excuse me.”

I tried to say something but he was gone before I could think of how to persuade him to tell me that the hell was happening in his mind. Something was seriously wrong and, with an icy feeling on my stomach – maybe the child had felt it too – I was certain this shelter was not what we had dreamed of. Entering it had been a miracle, and there were no more miracles these days.

And holy fuck, I really was fucking pregnant!

“Hey, you alright over there?”

Startling out of my reverie, I saw T-Dog having just arrived, standing by the counter. I smiled, giving some poor excuse and greeting him with a smile, not mentioning any worries. Together, T-Dog and I started fumbling in the cafeteria cabinets as to find something to make the group breakfast. The man was by the stove doing his best to prepare powdered eggs and I was mixing some artificial juice when the others began to flow into the space, most of them quietly. Glenn looked the worst, eventual groans demonstrating just how bad he felt. Dale, Andrea, Lori and Carl were also sitting with bowls of old but still good cereal.

“Dude, did you puke yet?” I asked Glenn as I stood behind him, a hand on his shoulder. He groans louder and hangs his head. Carl, a mouthful of cereal, laughs at him. “If ya haven’t you should, trust me, you’ll feel better.”

Rick joined us just as T was serving scrambled eggs that surprisingly seem to be good and Lori was handing Glenn some aspirins. As they all started to eat, I leaned against the counter, sipping on my glass of juice. I was quiet with a smile so it would seem like I was following the conversations and quiet teasing going on by the table, but my mind is only half there.

I knew I was pregnant, I was sure ‘bout it, why was I feeling this now? I needed to tell them. They had to know, life was about to get shittier for everyone with a knocked-up woman and then a screaming baby. Where was Daryl, still sleeping? The eggs kinda smelled good, I wished there was bacon. Damnit, bacon.

Interrupting my thoughts, Shane passed in front of me like a storm, walking fast and hunched, quickly dismissing the good morning wishes. At the table Lori flinched, looking down at her eggs, and seemed to shrink unbeknownst to anybody other than me, the only quiet and observing one.

“Fell as bad as I do?” Rick, at the head of the table, asked his friend.

“Worse,” is all he said before turning around and heading to the table.

“What the hell happened to you?” T-Dog asked as he met Shane on his way. “Your neck?”

Shane sits nearly across from the Lori, who purposefully busied herself with her food. “Must’ve done it in my sleep.”

“Never seen you do that before,” Rick questioned as I was slowly abandoning my position at the counter and stepping around the table to stand close to Lori without having planned to do so.

Standing there I could see what T-Dog had asked about. Shane had scratch marks on his neck, as perfect as nails. The rest of the table was silent and I was glad I wasn’t the center of attention. Blood had risen to my face and my throat was tight. I was sure Lori had made the marks, simply by her reaction to Shane’s arrival. She’d had to defend herself from him, and that certainty burned on my chest like a physical blow. I remembered Ed slapping Carol – where are Carol and Sophia? Gotta go find them, see if they’re okay – and the desire to do to Shane the same I did to Ed was almost stronger than me.

“Me neither,” Shane answered and stared directly at Lori. “Not like me at all.”

I then took a step closer to Lori’s back, staring at Shane, whose eyes slid up from Lori straight to me. I stopped there and held his eyes hard, my own narrowed and head turning slightly to the left, daring him to say or do anything else or, I don’t know, breathe.

Jenner returned to the cafeteria just then, finishing the subject. I held Shane under my gaze for seconds longer, though. I wanted him to know that, if no one else did, I had noticed and that I’d keep an eye on him. His look going even harder than before told me he got the message.

***

Seeing the image of the brain dying, and then returning to life, though only in few parts, was not exactly news to anybody. It was impressive to see the transformation occurring on the inside, though. Extraordinary brain or not, it was how happened to everybody. It had happened to Amy, it had happened to Jim by now. But we had seen it in real life, we had shot freshly transformed people in the brain to put them to rest. Andrea had done it to her own sister. The mood in the room was now densely gloomy, verging hopelessness. Though he explained the procedure in detail, Dr. Jenner never mentioned a cause.

“You have no idea what it is, do you?” Andrea voices what was everybody’s impression.

“It could be microbial…” he started, vaguely, his answer to the question very clear. “Viral, parasitic, fungal.”

“Ain’t there nobody who’d know that?” I asked from where I was perched on a desk by Daryl. “Other centers, wherever, nobody could take the – the thing and analyze it to know what it is?”

“And how to stop it – kill it, more importantly?” Rick completed my question standing closer to Jenner

“There are others, right?” Carol also added her question. “Other facilities?”

“There may be some. People like me. There’s no way to be sure, though. Everything went down, communications, directives, all of it. I've been in the dark for almost a month.”

“So, it's not just here,” Andrea’s chin trembled as she spoke. “There's nothing left anywhere? Nothing? That's what you're really saying, right?”

The doctor didn’t answer. Instead, he lowered his head as he nodded, and for long seconds nobody spoke a word.

“Well, fuck,” I whispered making the others come out of their shock. Daryl stood up pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes, mumbling to himself that he intended to get drunk again.

Behind the group, among the next row of desks and computers, Dale’s voice came changing the subject and alerting the others for something that hadn’t been noticed yet. “Dr. Jenner, I know this has been taxing for you and I hate to ask one more question, but... That clock,” he pointed to a wall further away and the whole group looked at its direction. A red digital clock had just marked one hour. “It's counting down. What happens at zero?”

Once again, like it was beginning to be customary for the doctor, he took seconds to answer, looked around as if in doubt of how to phrase something. “The basement generators... they run out of fuel.”

“And then?” Rick asked him, his voice grave, but it had no effect on Jenner. He just lowered his head again and started walking away, completely ignoring the question. Rick looked up at nothing, as if talking to God, “Vi, what happens when the power runs out?”

“When the power runs out,” the robotic voice started. “Facility-wide decontamination will occur.”

* * *

When Daryl entered the room we had shared the previous night, I was already shoving whatever personal belongings I had back inside my backpack.

“Hey, what ya doing?” he asked as he leaned against the doorframe, a bottle of whiskey in hand.

“Just making sure, leaving the bags ready to take and go,” and I entered the touled, collecting the toothpaste. “I don’t like this no-generator-power-fuel thing. The way the guy didn’t even answer what’ll happen – I don’t know. I told the others to have their packs ready too.

“’Kay, I’ll just –”

“Yours’ done already,” I cut him and pointed to his bag on the floor. “Didn’t have much out.”

“What you figure is gonna happen?”

“No fuckin’ clue,” I zipped the bag forcefully and rested my hands on my hips. “But just think ‘bout it, we’re underground, not a single window, if there’s no power at all how’re we gonna have air? You know?” I pointed up and Daryl looked at the vent on the ceiling.

“No lights, no fridge for the food, no air circulating…” he completed my though.

“Nope, don’t seem to me like a place we can be for long. ‘S why I told the others to get ready, Jenner’s gonna have to explain what the fuck we’re gonna do if when the guys come back they say there really ain’t no more fuel.”

Just as the last words filled the tense air of the room, the light went off, leaving only a faint emergency glow coming from the corridor, and the silent place became even more silent as the air from the vents stopped flowing. Everybody was out in the corridor at once, asking questions at Jenner, who had just appeared and was walking resolutely along the hallway. In seconds, the whole group was back in the control room, Rick, Shane, Glenn and T-Dog back from the lower levels informing there really wasn’t any more fuel in the barrels. With his already infamous half-words, Jenner explained shallowly that the system of the building made the decisions, not him, and that air and light were not as important as keeping the computers running until the very last second.

“Alright, that’s it!” I raised my voice above all the others. “Back to the rooms now, everybody, grab your things and we’ll get the fuck outta here!”

For one or two seconds, everybody was following my orders, running towards the door, but everyone froze in place again at the loud, deafening alarm sound and blaring red light that took hold of our senses.

“30 minutes to decontamination,” the robotic, cold voice informed.

“Everybody, you heard Sam!” Rick shouted at the top of his lungs, “Let’s get out of here, now!”

A metal door rose from within the ground just as he spoke, closing the only way out of the room. It had looked like there wasn’t any door there at all, but now it seemed like it was a solid, metal wall. Fear on the verge of despair washed the group like an ice-cold waterfall, screaming and cries and Daryl trying to attack the doctor, who now was calmly sitting down on his fancy chair.

“Jenner, open that door now,” Rick tried, sweat rolling down his face.

“There's no point. Everything topside is locked down. The emergency exits are sealed.”

“Well, open the damn things!” Daryl yelled from where he was being held away by Shane.

“That's not something I control. The computers do,” Jenner spoke firmly, but still carrying and annoying calm on his words. “I told you once that front door closed, it wouldn't open again. You heard me say that.”

“We heard you say they’d stay closed, not that we’d be locked in even if we wanted out!” I yelled, despising how my voice trembled. “You were not very clear ‘bout that, doc!”

“It's better this way.”

“What is better?” Rick asked. “What happens in 28 minutes?”

He didn’t answer, once again, turning away and trying to type something on his computer. There was yelling once again, the men around Jenner trying to get him to talk clearly for once. He finally did, getting up from his chair and screaming and spitting that the whole place had been designed to protect the public from horrible deceases, to keep viruses, bacteria and parasite inside and to just destroy everything in case any of it could ever get out. Calming himself down like what he was about to say was the most calming and reassuring thing, he explained how the system did that.

“It sets the air on fire,” he practically smiled. “No pain. An end to sorrow, grief... Regret. Everything.”

“You mean an end to your sorrow,” I shouldered though the men and got closer to Jenner. “You’re sitting there accepting your fate, the end to your grief, but making us stay when we want to go?”

“Open the damn door!”, Daryl yelled from the door, where he’d started kicking it. Shane approached the door with an axe he had found somewhere and they both attacked it, grunting and making sparks come out of the metal.

“You should've left well enough alone. It would've been so much easier,” Jenner said from his chair, watching us like he’d watch a movie. “You know what's out there... A short, brutal life and an agonizing death!”, he tried to convince us. Looking at Andrea, he proceeded. “Your sister, you know what this does. You've seen it,” and he looked back at Rick. “Is that really what you want for your wife and son?

“I don't want this!”

“There is no hope. There never was…”

“There's always hope!” Rick was nearly crying in anger. “Maybe it won't be you, maybe not here, but somebody somewhere –”

“What part of ‘everything is gone’ do you not understand?” Andrea cried from her spot on the floor.

“Listen to your friend. She gets it. This is what takes us down. This is our extinction event,” Jenner said with a final tone, like the end of a discussion.

“This isn't right,” Carol was openly crying with Sofia on her arms. “You can't just keep us here!”

“One tiny moment... a millisecond. No pain,” the doctor carried on.

“What the fuck are you trying to convince us about, doctor?” I spoke again. “You want us to sit and accept the air around us will blow up and we’ll die?”

“Wouldn't it be kinder, more compassionate to just hold your loved ones and wait for the clock to run down?”

“Wanna hear what’d be kinder? Cause I don’t think you know much ‘bout it,” I bent a little to look at him. “Compassionate would be to let us choose our fate for ourselves. Lock people in and tell them they’ll die ain’t compassionate, it ain’t kind!”

“You may not see it, but I know what I’m talking about. There is nothing else out there other than dead people walking and ready to eat your flesh! Nothing!”

“You’re a fuckin’ liar, you know that?” I angrily whispered, but loud enough for everyone around to hear. “You didn’t kill yourself like the others. You stayed and you were still trying, weren’t you? Why is that, huh?”

“I didn’t stay alive because I wanted to!” he stood up making me straighten my back. Jenner pointed at the screen where he’d shown the image of the transforming brain before. “I made a promise... To her. My wife.”

“Test subject 19 was your wife?” Lori asked him.

“She begged me to keep going as long as I could. How could I say no? She was dying. It should've been me on that table. I wouldn't have mattered to anybody. She was a loss to the world. Hell, she ran this place. I just worked here. In our field, she was an Einstein. Me? I'm just... Edwin Jenner. She could've done something about this. Not me.”

I snorted a bitter laugh. “Good. You kept your promise to her right to the end. And then you fucked it all up. Bravo!”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jenner took a step towards me just as Daryl restarted banging his axe on the door.

“You promised, you stayed, you researched, you did all of that. And then right at the end, in the very last minutes of your fuckin’ miserable life, you go and turn yourself into a fuckin murderer. Poor 19… Poor woman who’ll have a murderer for a husband.”

“Murder? Is that what – That’s not what I’m trying to do here!” he screamed and looked around trying to defend himself. “I’m helping you! You all came to me begging for help, and I’ve given it to you! You’re all going to die out there, a suffering, painful death, I’m being compassionate here –”

“Bullshit!” I yelled at his face. “You’re killing us! You’re lockin’ us in and giving us no choice! This is murder, plain and simple. Our lives are not yours to decide. If we wanna go back out there and die fighting to our last breaths, so we should be able to! These children’s lives are their mothers’ to decide about!” I cried out pointing at the direction where Lori and Carol held their kids. Then I pointed to my own stomach. “This child! My child! This life here is mine and I will fight like hell to save it. If we’re gonna die, we’re gonna die fighting. You don’t make this decision for us!”

Nobody seemed to be breathing now. Daryl’s banging on the door had ceased. Jenner stared down at me, eyes on mine for long seconds. Then he shook his head and walked towards the other side of his desk again.

“I told you topside's locked down. I can't open those,” and with a simple card and password, the metal door loudly slid open.

“Come on!” Daryl shouted from the threshold.

“This is the right thing to do,” I pointed at him. “Goodbye, doc!”

“Come on, Sam, let’s go!” Daryl called again as everybody else ran towards the exit.

“We have less than four minutes!” Glenn informed as he reached it.

On my way, I grabbed Jackie, who’d been standing motionless on her spot, and dragged the woman with me. On the rise that led to the door, Jackie stopped.

“No, no, I'm staying. I'm staying, sweetie.”

“What?! No, Jackie!”

“No, it's okay, I know. For the first time in a long time I’m sure about something. I'm not ending up like Jim and Amy.”

“You’re not, Jackie, we’re fighting for –”

“There's no time to argue and no point, not if you want to get out!”

“But Jackie –”

“Just get out, please Sam, you have a baby there! Just please, go!”

“Sam!”, Daryl returned from the hallway where he’d already reached. “Come on, Sam,” he said urgently, though in a muffled voice. “We gotta go now, come on!”

With a last look at Jackie, who nodded and smiled at me, I turned around and let Daryl drag me away.

* * *

Carol had a grenade.

Yep. Carol had a fucking grenade.

When the doors upstairs didn’t bolt even at gun shots, she suddenly took a grenade off her pack and handed it to Rick. He placed it by where the glass had been slightly cracked and everybody fell to the floor waiting for the explosion, Daryl right on top of me covering my whole body with his. The whole world shook as the glass broke at the explosion, the group climbing through the hole and out of the condemned building. Walkers outside fell like leaves at our shots, just not as scary as they had been just hours before. With seconds to spare everybody was inside the cars, ready to get out of there even before the explosion. Daryl pushed shoved me in before him into the truck through the driver’s door and just as he closed it we saw Andrea and Dale leaving the building, climbing out and running away, though not fast enough.

“Dale!!” I all but climbed over Daryl to be able to scream through the window. “Andrea! Get cover! It’ll blow – get cover!!”

There was still a moment to see them run and dive behind the sandbags before I was shoved down to the floor of the truck, Daryl over me and the deafening explosion, the heat on our skins threatening to burn everything around, an earthquake destroying anything that was still standing. For minutes we stayed like that, shaking, fearing the cars would not be enough to protect us, until it all started to fade, sound slowly lowering, heat cooling down degree by degree, faint cries coming from the other cars slowly reaching my ears.

“It’s over,” Daryl whispered from somewhere above me. “You okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah, you?”

He sat up on the driver’s seat, still bent down to look at me on the floor, curved into a ball. “Fine! Come on, get up,” he reached for my hand and pulled me up. “You fine. It’s okay.”

“Good, good, we’re fine… They’re all fine?”

“All cars whole, Dale and Andrea just entered the RV. Everybody’s fine.”

Being pulled up by Daryl, I didn’t stop moving until I was all but over him, clutching to his shirt and sobbing into his shoulder. I didn’t plan to do it, my body acting on its own volition. I didn’t pay attention to him starting the truck and it moving away from the burning building, my emotions completely out of my control. Daryl didn’t say a word; he held me against him with one arm as he awkwardly drove away following the other cars, only Shane’s jeep behind us.

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