#i heard it while listening to the radio by myself at night and was all like

[homelander-rp-blog]

“where’s her brother?! That big man? He went missing too?”

“oh my God, does it mean they- those wild animals- took our chef too?”

“are you serious?! We’re surrounded by wild animals and you’re thinking about your food?!”

“hey I didn’t pay to be stuck here and wolves eat us!”

“wolves?! Hubert did you hear she say wolves?!”

John can see how fast it’s going downward and getting out of the control so he raises his voice to help Nadie; “friends!” he says out loud and almost everyone turns to look at him with annoyed, angry and confused faces “I know this might be bad, I know we don’t want to be told to what to do while the fear of being under attack is looming over us. I was out there myself with our tour guide, Nadie!” he extends an arm to the girl’s direction, a faint smile appears on his face “we both saw the body. Um.. it um.. it wasn’t really good and I assume there were more than just one wild animals and whatever they were, they weren’t small at all. So, now if you like to return back home in one piece, you better listen to her!” he ends his speech, feeling out of breath but luckily the chaos seems to be died down a little after people heard someone from ‘themselves’ say their comment, so this wild animal announcement was right..

“I- I don’t want to die!” Maria holds onto her husband’s arm and he tries to hush her. John finds his way to Nadie, lowering his voice “I think it’s for the best if we return back to our cabins for the night before the storm gets too harsh and animals- or whatever it was- decide to prowl in the camp for hunt..” John’s theory is probably the storm made two or three bears leave their caves after they woke up for whatever reason in middle of the winter and food smell dragged them here.. a cold shiver runs down his back thinking of themselves as ‘food’. Okay, scratch that. Those bears came down because they sensed warmth! Right!

“but isn’t it better for us to stay here together until cops arrive?” one of girls say and some people nod. A middle aged man snorts loudly “huh! Sure. In this weather? I don’t think so. Ever heard of Aurora effect? It interrupts radio waves! Just look outside, people. A storm is coming on” he squints his eyes at Nadie “how we’re sure you aren’t lying to us about informing the cops?”

John protectively stands between the man’s gaze and Nadie “hey man, she’s our tour guide so you better trust her! I don’t know what the all the noises are about! It’s just a simple matter-“ “- someone is dead! It’s not simple matter!” one of girls raises her voice with a sour frown on her face and others all approve her with nods and hums.

Nadie stood in the middle of the dining tables. There had been a strict command for everyone to meet in the cafeteria cabin at once, no exceptions. While the danger hadn't been stressed yet, Nadie readied herself for the chaos that was about to unravel around her. A clap, two claps, three claps - like a kindergarten teacher commanding focus from her class. Which, in truth, wasn't far off with how she felt. With a screeching silence, all of the faces turned towards her, eagerly awaiting the news. Perhaps, a new activity! Or even an interesting winter storm!

" Everyone! I... have to make a grim announcement! Today, we found the body of Mr. Engarde, one of our guests here. We think he may have been attacked by a wild animal when he wandered off without a guide. " The air felt heavy as everyone realized the solemnity of what she was saying, " Now, of course, if it is a wild animal like we think - they will likely not come close to our camp. But just in case, we will be hereby initiating a safety protocol! Nobody is to leave their cabin in anything less than a pair of two. No exceptions. At least one person must have some sort of defensive weapon on then. We will be limiting any late night or early morning excursions until we can be sure it will be safe to go out. "

Quiet chaos erupted as guest turned to guest in fear. A wild animal attack? And one of their number was already dead?! Nadie clapped again, clearing her throat. Eventually, the people quieted again.

" I have already called the police and they will be here as soon as possible, " Which could still mean hours knowing the state of the roads on any given day, " We are going to let them handle this. We are not going to be heroes or detectives. Am I understood? " The people responded as she expected, with more murmuring and panic. Nadie was already so frustrated and this had to just keep going on?

[redbuddi]

clown on imagine dragons all you want, trust me i will too, but i was a different person before i heard radioactive the first time and i dont think im the only one

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [ DEVOTION Pt. 7 ]

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Alright, buckle up loves! This one is a rollercoaster…. I’m pretty sure there’s smut (yay, we have returned to my roots). Also, thanks for all the feedback on the story. It gave me insight into a few things and what tropes to leave out of my next series (which is coming soon).

WARNINGS: [ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ SLIGHT SMUT ] + [ ANGST ] + [ CHILDBIRTH…description?… I mean not really that much… ] + [ MENTIONS OF CANNIBALISM ]

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Within the hour of Alastors shadows leaving, Roise and Angelique came rushing into your home.

Their coats were thrown to the floor at the door, and both women bound up the steps, calling you and Alastors' names in evident concern.

"Al! Y/n?!" Rosie shouted as she rounded the staircase plateau, reaching the room first, and his mother followed swiftly.

"Al! Baby, what happened?' Angelique came right to his side as he lifted his head from looking down at your sweat and blood-covered face.

Rosie gasped, seeing the state you were in, the blood pooling on the sheets, your body's weak tremors worrying both women and Alastor’s disheveled demeanor, only adding to the heart-wrenching scene.

Angelique placed a hand on your forehead, feeling for a temperature, as Alastor croaked out a phrase she had never heard him utter: "Help her ma…please…."

". She's burning up," Angelique muttered in slight shock, sparing her son a solemn glance as she caressed your cheek soothingly.

He clearly was withholding his panic, reverting back to the mild-mannered nervous ticks he had as a boy to cope with stress.

His eyes twitched rapidly, watering a bit as she conversed with Rosie on the best ways to go about helping you and the babies.

"They're gonna be okay, baby. Hey, look at me, stay strong, you hear me? Keep your head on straight. They need you more than ever…" his mother reassured him with an encouraging smile, tilting his chin up as an added gesture.

"Now is not the time to be weak like your father…"

Alastor paled at her words, unconsciously steadying his mentality to avoid breaking down any longer, "I'm nothing like that pompous and demented drunk-"

"Then go clean yourself up. Straighten out that mess in the basement. And let us do what needs to be done to save Y/n and your children…"

Angelique made no effort to put her instructions gently, already rushing about the room to ready herself for the task ahead.

Rosie merely stared at him expectantly, already tending to your wounded head after wiping the visible scum from your face with a warm wet washcloth.

"Go, Al. We will take care of this."

He froze for a moment, hesitant to leave you in such a state, gazing down at your distressed form one last time before deciding to trust them with your fate.

"I'm counting on you both," he mumbled wearily, planting a sorrowful kiss on your head while peeling off the bed's edge.

"Everything going to be alright, sweetheart. I promise.."

You sobbed lowly at his words, too weak to speak and even less apt to stop him from leaving your side.

The last sight you had of Alastor that night was him lingering at your bedroom door with a somber smile that conveyed the sadness in his eyes, and then he was gone.

A memory you couldn't recall as hours of labor set in. You spent what little strength was left in your body to birth a son and a daughter.

Your screams could practically be heard throughout the whole Garden District.

Alastors' shadows shook violently upon hearing each one, but he restrained himself from racing into the room.

Instead, he busied himself as his mother instructed: cleaning the basement, locking it up before pocketing the key for better safekeeping, and resigning himself to his studies.

Hours of listening to your muffled cries mixing with the crackling of his radio filled the atmosphere with unease.

His shadows swirled in anticipation near the bedroom door, not daring to peek in until your voice was drowned out by the soft cries of two newborns.

Alastor had been on his third cigarette and fourth whiskey by then, in the middle of drowning his stress with vices he'd sworn never to take up, but they seemed appealing for the longest night of his life.

He was rather thankful when a spectator spawned beside his chair, whispering good news in his ear and clearly elated to relay it.

They've arrived—a healthy boy and girl, and she is stable as well. A job well done, monsieur…

A tender smile crept onto his lips at the information, shrill cries of life carrying through the house proving his spectator's observation true." I shouldn't keep my children waiting then," Alastor mused half-heartedly while standing upright.

His glass of whiskey was half full on his desk, his cigarette snuffed out on an ashtray next to it, and his radio left on a low volume of static as he left the room.

———— ————— —————

"Oh, Al, come look! They're just the sweetest little lambs you'll ever see!"

Rosie ushered him in the room with a genuine grin on her face, strands of her blonde hair in disarray, her dress sleeves rolled up, and a bit of sweat on her neck from the work she'd just finished.

He chuckled at her enthusiasm, assuming she was exaggerating to lift his spirits.

"Is that so?"

Rosie nodded excitedly, gliding back over to the bed where you lay, and his mother sat facing you.

"Come on. Come look at em'…" the blonde whispered while peering into Angelique's arms.

Alastor hesitated, somewhat afraid to come face to face with his offspring, but then he heard them babble quietly.

A gentle, enlightening sound he never imagined liking, but it drew him like a magnet.

The tired smile you gave him as he neared the bed helped quite a lot.

You were alive, in need of rest, but still breathing.

His mind calmed as your eyes met for a split second, a fleeting exchange of gratefulness, but it broke as two tiny giggles filled the room.

Alastor averted his attention towards them, leaving you to watch as he took them in.

Angelique shifted slightly, adjusting her expert hold on the swaddled newborns who fixated on their looming father as he stepped closer.

"Oh my…hello there, little ones. What a pleasure it is to meet you…"

Alastor fawned over them, kneeling to get a better look, and to his delight, they both smiled at his approach.

The sudden change in expression swayed him, and he had a genuine grin on his face as he took their features in.

"What wonderful gifts you are," he muttered in amazement.

His mother chuckled, amused by her son's reaction to his children, but relieved he'd composed himself again.

"Would you like to hold them, Al?" she voiced the offer gently, watching his sharp eyes soften behind the around-framed spectacle.

"I'd love to ….." he mumbled wistfully, never taking his eyes off the newborn twins.

Rosie squealed quietly in excitement as Angelique nodded, carefully handing the boy over to Alastor first.

He gently took him in his arms, admiring their similarities, "My eyes, hair, and nose. You've stolen them all…"

He paused, stuck on what to call then, but you whispered both names through a tired smile:

"Adonis Naveen Hartifelt & Antoinette Marie Hartofelt… just as we decided, yes?"

Alastor held your gaze momentarily, sensing something was off but disregarding the underlying tension to enjoy the quaint moment.

"Yes, ma chere. Very suitable names…"

You flashed a somber smile, watching as he walked about the room with Adonis before switching to hold Antoinette.

He clearly favored your daughter a bit more, smiling the longest with her near his chest and only puttering her down when she began to fuss—which took quite a while.

Angelique took her from Alastor's grasp, letting him admire her again before he left the room with Rosie and leaving you to feed them with his mother's help.

His absence left you to wonder…

It baffled you how he could be picture-perfect at times like this.

The very image of a good and gracious man.

Nothing like the monster you imagined could systematically tear apart a body the way you witnessed in the basement.

Nothing like a man who'd lie to his wife.

Nothing like the man who'd caused you so much pain in what was supposed to be your happiest time together.

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As the days rolled on, winter winds ravaged New Orleans through the holidays, but the frivolous change of season seemed a distant notion outside of the Hartifelt house.

You were first confined to bed rest by Angelique, then by a doctor's official recommendation the next day, and with their orders came directions.

No overexcerting yourself.

No stress.

A fulfilled and healthy diet couldn't be avoided.

And at least six hours of sleep per day.

The last two stipulations were hard to follow because they felt impossible, and you couldn't bring yourself to relax until Alastor made an effort to explain himself…

To explain the body in the basement and why he'd ever see the need to butcher someone in such a gruesome way.

You'd long figured out what he'd been using it for, piecing together what you witnessed with what had been conspiring in your home for months…

The mutilations on the body were precise, as if he had been harvesting certain parts, but you didn't recall seeing any limbs or organs lying around the basement.

There was no rotting flesh smell either, nothing to indicate he was keeping them as personal trophies, but the victim had clearly not been his first from the looks of their wounds.

You'd never seen him dispose of anything, never heard any clamoring noises from the basement when he was down there, and couldn't recall seeing blood on his hands besides the one time you visited his mother.

All your guesses and observations led you to one conclusion: a notion that made your stomach churn, but the only plausible answer to the question of what Alastor had been doing with…or instead using the body for.

Meat.

He had to be harvesting it.

Feeding body parts to himself and me as if it were regular livestock.

It made sense now why he'd neglected to buy meat on grocery store runs and insisted his hunts would bear better fruit than packaged goods, and the more you thought about the connection, the stupider you felt.

All this time, he'd been feeding you…feeding your children human flesh?

How could be so blind to it, so caught up in his charm, and fail to notice what he'd do behind your back.

You threw up every time the thought crossed your mind…

The season's cold chill mirrored the steady rage building in you as days turned into weeks.

Reaching its height by the time Christmas Eve rolled around.

Rosie and Angelique had decided to stay and help you and the twins until your health became stable again.

One woman was always at your side to help, allowing you to nurse Adonis and Antoinette in peace when needed.

In the first few days of your recovery, you didn't remember much of anything, falling in and out of sleep rapidly, but when you could stay awake for most of the day, you refused to have either child out of your sight for more than a second.

Alastor had tried once after their birth to hold them again in your presence, but you forbade Rosie from letting him in the room.

The evident hurt in his eyes when you viciously glared at him that day tore your heart to pieces, but you just couldn't bear to see him pretend everything was bright and dandy.

Like there wasn't a rotting body in the basement…

Angelique tried to soothe you both in one way or another, convincing Alastor to give you space and time, suggesting that he focus on his radio show rather than holing up in his study or going on impractical 'hunts' to cope with your anger towards him.

He took her advice well, putting on a mask for weeks on end as he carried on being New Orleans's most prominent radio star, and though the frequency of his hunts slowed, the few he did venture on were extremely bloody.

You weren't as easily swayed by her attempts to heal the rift between you and Alastor.

Barely eating or sleeping for quite a while, afraid to close your eyes and replay the bloody memory he'd caused, and overtly protective of the twins as a result.

However, eating and neglecting rest didn't last only a short time.

Both factors affected your productivity as a new mother and healing stage.

You eventually took Amgelique's advice, eating your meals in total, resting more, and enjoying your children's presence.

They were quite the duo.

They were generally quiet babies but incredibly active when not asleep.

You took pride in nursing them, fleeting Rosie holding one while you fed the other, both of you cooing at their gentle mannerisms.

Your mood improved drastically by Christmas Eve, the strength to walk around the house without helpfully given back to you, and the pain in your head significantly lessened.

Jovial as ever, you took slow and sure steps to leave the stuffy room, bathe and dress yourself, and be drawn out by the smell of delicious food being made downstairs.

You could hear Rosie playing with the twins, her soft laughter wafting through the house as two other voices lingered under it.

You nearly turned back to the room, recognizing Alastors voice, grimacing as he laughed at something his mother had said, but after a few calming self-reflective breaths, you continued down the winding staircase.

Rosie was the first to spot you, dressed in a simple red and green evening gown, ready to celebrate the night.

You almost envied her vitality, opting for a simple white and red dress and a large red bow to hold your hair up in an elegant pin style.

She gasped softly as you descended the last few steps, halting her hand that tenderly swayed your children's bassinet.

"You're up! Oh, how wonderful…you look lovely, my dear!"

She rushed to hug you, careful not to squeeze you too tight, as a small giggle left you:

"I'm still finding my bearings, but thanks to you and Angelique, I feel much better."

Rosie took hold of your hands in both silk-gloved ones, leading you into the warmly lit parlor.

She left you to admire how beautifully decorated it was as she sat you down next to her on the sofa.

A pine tree was tucked in the corner, standing massively next to the front bay windows, decorated with fairy lights and traditional ornaments.

Garlands were hung in the same fashion, and other festive adornments covered your home's interior as far as you could see, and your heart fluttered a bit at the sight.

You usually took on decorating for the holidays. Alastor would help, of course, but you enjoyed doing it more than he did.

You expected nothing to be set out since you'd been unwell for so long…

"How'd you manage all this, Rosie?" You glanced around in awe one last time, focusing on the babbling newborns comfortably loaded in their business before you.

They reached for your hand as it lazily slid into the bassinet, warm little palms encircling your fingers, bringing comfort to you.

Rosie watched the loving exchange like a proud sister before answering your question.

"We did nothing, dear. This was all Alastors doing…"

You stiffened, glancing at her in disbelief, "All of this? By himself?"

She nodded slowly, reaching for her glass of white wine sitting on a side table.

"Mhm. I'm sure he knew how important the holiday season is to you…"

It was true.

Alastor did know how much you cared about this time of year.

It reminded you of your mother; your few memories of her were from this season, fond quips of true joy you tried to preserve by upholding her enthusiasm for all that Christmas brings.

"A cherishable, loving, pure spirit ready to start a new. Many forget that the only gift that truly matters to another person is one of understanding. Remember that, my love…never let it go.."

Her words rang in your head as your heart twisted, flashes of your memories with Alastor plaguing you.

"How is he?" you asked tentatively, not looking away from the twins as Rosie sighed, "Not well. He wants to speak to you, dear. See the children for more than a second, too. Won't you give him a chance?.."

She placed a hand on your shoulder, her expression softening as you blinked back tears.

"Rosie…I…I want to, but if he spills another lie from his mouth, I'm afraid I might lose myself to rage…"

A beat of silence hung in the air, a single tear running down your cheek as the thought of facing Alastor made you dizzy with anxiety.

"I'm grateful for your help, for his love, but you've all left me in the dark, and now that I've grown wise to it all, I can't help but wanna hate him…"

"Y/n…we- he was just trying to protect you…"

You stifled a sob, crying quietly as you nodded, "I know… Rosie. I know god damn well what Al was trying to do, but if he'd told me from the beginning, I wouldn't drive myself mad in the first place. All that talk of being devoted to me, and he turns around and lies."

You scowled at the carpeted floor, swiftly wiping your face clean before standing from thorofare with a newfound determination:

"I won't stand for it any longer, er, and thinking about it sours my mood. If you'll excuse me, I need a stiff drink…"

—————- ——————- ——————

Angelique paused in her task as you slipped into the kitchen, not saying a word to her son.

You passed her with a small smile directed only at her and her.

She returned it, picking up a stack of dishes to place on the dining room table before silently gliding out of the room.

You frowned at the loss of her company, aware she'd left hoping that you and Alastor would talk earnestly, but you had no intention of even looking his way.

Your husband felt you whisk past him to the wine cabinet, halting his focus on the pot of gumbo he was preparing to turn your way.

"Y/n," he uttered your name, a low call that made your head spin and your chest tight.

You refused to respond, pouring yourself a moderate glass of wine before taking a long sip, and as the bittersweet alcohol dissipated on your tongue, you turned to leave the area.

Alastor tried again to gain your attention, his face stoic as he reached for you.

With a bit of force, he successfully pulled you into his side. You scowled, instinctively tugging your waist from his iron grasp, but he didn't relent his hold—not once.

"Leave me be," you spat quietly, grip hardening on your wine glass and your bright eyes darkening with unbridled rage as his hazel eyes softened on you.

"I will when you let me explain myself…"

Both of his hands found your waist, shifting your reluctant body to press up against his.

You stiffened at the familiar contact, missing his embrace momentarily and slightly distracted by the warmth he emitted.

Weeks without physical touch from him felt tortuous, and you intended to endure it for a while longer, but feeling him so close if only for a moment- made your resolve less than weak.

Alastor pressed his weight against the counter, head coming to rest on your shoulder as he inhaled the scent of your perfume.

A crisp, sweet smell he missed dearly.

It was one of the many traits about you that calmed him, kept him tethered to sanity, and going weeks without breathing you in affected him nearly the same as the lack of his touch did to you.

You twisted and squirmed in his hold, growing angrier by the second as he held you still, "Alastor Hartifelt, let me go this instant-!"

You grit your teeth, hand poised to fling the wine in your glass onto him as a well-deserved deterrent, but he's quick to hold it still.

He tugs the glass from your hand, disregarding the slight spill it causes, and you gasp softly from the use of sudden strength in a simple motion.

Alastor sets the crystal glass down, taking another deep breath before speaking to you in a tone you could only describe as hollow.

"You've seen it, haven't you, darling? What takes up my time in the basement, yes? I know it must terrify you, dear. I know, but you must realize I never meant…to hurt you. Believe me when I say I kept my deeds hidden to protect you…"

Not an ounce of regret was in his words; you hadn't expected any.

Alastor was never the type to act upon something he'd despise later.

You knew him well enough to see an act of utter violence like this made sense to him in some way.

It was never the thought of him being dangerous, the thought of him being murderous, or prone to aggression that had angered you.

He hid it like you hadn't stood by his side through the worst times.

The secret he kept wasn't horrific for its brutality but disgraceful in its relevance to your love for him.

"Protect me?.." you grimaced, looking into his eyes with burning rage, "What about trusting me. To hell with why you kill. It's a matter of you hiding such a secret from me in the first place. I am your wife, your equal, and yet you lied to me as if I were a mere child! A pet you could put in a cage and show off but never bond with…"

The anger slowly left your tone, gaze softening on his amber eyes, "I understand you don't care much for the term 'love' but whatever we have can’t exist without us fully trusting in one another. That is why I am angry with you. That is why I've distanced myself, Alastor. Nothing more. Nothing less."

You lowered your head, feeling a tad dramatic but glad to have said what was on your mind.

Alastor pursed his lips in deep thought for a moment, but soon, his deep laughter resonated around the room.

Your head snapped up at the sound, one brow lifted in pure confusion as he chuckled heartily, "And what's so funny now?" You tutted in frustration, prepared to drench him in wine again, but you thought better of it as his laughter died.

"It's just that…" he paused, staring into your curious eyes as they took in his lazy smile, "I seem to have forgotten why I fell for you in the first place, sweetheart."

Alastor's grin grew as your expression hardened, "What does that have to do with this conversation-"you began to become livid again until his large hands cupped your rounded cheeks gently.

You froze as the gentle contact warmed your skin, focus paper thin as he leaned in close enough for your noses to touch, "My darling doe, you have never betrayed me once. In all our time together, your faith in me has never wavered. I've killed for you more times than I can count, but that could never amount to the love you hold for me. Even after discovering my darkest sin, you look upon me gracefully… my wife, my angel, you are truly curious to a man."

His sentiments muddled your thoughts, every sweet word true, holding an edge of obsession.

Your heart fluttered hearing them, the sharpness in his eyes reinforcing their weight.

You gulped gently as he brushed his lips over your parted ones, teasing a kiss you weren't ready to give.

"I must've been mistaken when I belittled my love for you in the sense of devotion…."

His eyes drifted half closed as you hummed in delight, feeling his heavy breaths fan your mouth.

Whiskey and twinge of sweetness rolled off his tongue, an inviting mixture you didn't dare to forget, "Then correct yourself," you muttered in response in hopes of reliving your craving for him.

Alastor struggled to surpass his smirk as you raised your hands to rest over his, gingerly pressing your nails into his skin and shivering at the familiar roughness it had.

"How do you suggest I do that, dear. I've caused you quite a lot of trouble, and there's only so much a man can do."

His teasing stirred heat in your core, a sensation you hadn't felt in weeks and thoroughly missed.

"First, you'll swear to never…never lie to me again. No matter the circumstances."

He hummed lowly, eyeing the low-hanging ruffle sleeves of your dress as they inched downward the more you pressed into him.

"You have my word, ma chere."

The response was automatic on his part, driven by the soft whine you let out as one of his hands shifted to knead your hip.

The gesture brought your lower half closer to his, leaving no space between you, but as distracting as it was, you continued on with your demands.

"You won't ever feed me or our children human meat again…without my explicit permission."

Alastor frowned for a moment but agreed nonetheless, "Alright."

You nodded, inhaling sharply shortly after as his hand gently tugged your dress skirt.

It would be right to swat him away and restrict his touch from you a bit longer, but the instant his fingertips brushed the skin of your thigh, you couldn't help but blush and bit back a whine.

"A-and you'll never put yourself, this family, our life together…in harm's way. Promise me, you'll continue to be discreet Alastor…"

The urge to moan gripped you entirely as his touch burned your bare skin, only silenced by the immediate kiss he allowed you before muttering sincerely, "You have my word, darling…"

You shuddered at his oath, knowing he meant every word, pouring his intent to keep it through the exchange of heated kisses that ensued after.

You held onto him tight, trying to remain as quiet as possible as his tongue found yours, forcing it to obey his lead and his hands roaming your body for the same sign of submission.

You gave in effortlessly, head tilting back as he marked your neck, gently pricking your skin with his teeth, gliding his tongue over the most minor bruises he left.

A wave of shivers captured you, disorienting and intensifying with Alastor's every move.

Your hands gripped his broad shoulders, bracing yourself for him to inevitably lift you onto his waist, but the action never occurred.

The sound of Rosie's quick footsteps approaching and her distinct singing song calling of your names made you both separate.

Alastor yanked your dress down quickly, clearing his throat with a cheeky grin while you hid your face in his chest out of slight embarrassment as the blonde glided into the kitchen.

"Mrs. Hartifelt wants to know if the gumbo is ready, Al. How's it coming along, hm?" She chirped cheerfully, pretending not to notice your bright red, blushing face hidden in his embrace.

"Oh, it's just about done, my dear. Just had to give it another taste test, right chere?"

You stared up at him in awe as he brought a hand to your left cheek, gliding his thumb over your heated skin, lovingly and intently staring back at you.

"Isn't that right, chere," Alastor asked once more, enjoying the nervousness in your gaze as you nodded in jaded agreement, "That's right, Rosie.." you muttered dreamily, too focused on your husband to catch her knowing smirk before she hummed in understanding while sashaying back into the parlor.

"Mrs. Hartifelt, Al says it's coming along well!" Rosie shouts in delight as she leaves you both alone, accentuating the phrase's double meaning to the older lady tending to her new grandchildren in the warmly lit parlor room.

Both women's smirks grew wildly, hearing you giggle amid Alastor's flirtatious teasing moments later.

"Seems it is," Angelique mumbled assuredly as Rosie sat beside her, admiring the tiny humans smiling in their sleep.

Christmas Eve wouldn't be so dim after all…

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Whew…..you all okay after this? No? Too bad it gets better then way worse… A real Shakespearean tragedy/romance. IM TAKING MY ASS TO BED NOW GOOD NIGHT 😴

TAGS ❤️: @rapturenyx @michi-keinz @shealizxx @nissrinina @destinyisastar @bubblegumheartsy @sailorsmouth @aestheticgals-blog @rameisa @ellesette @gasiacos @marvelgirl123 @dinosaur-crime-scene

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

Did you fall more in love with him seeing this? I certainly did…Credit to creator ❤️

[blackypanther9]

Only once, never again – Father!Alastor x Teen!Daughter!Reader

TAGLIST: @meg-giry1 @wen01203

“Papa, please ?”, you asked again.

“No, Cher. You are too young.”, Alastor denied you again.

“Papa, I am sixteen ! I should at least try !”, you tried to convince him.

“You are too young to try now, Cher. What if something happens to you ? I would never forgive myself.”

“Pa, you are my Father and the all feared Bayou Killer. As soon as I am hurt, you kill the one responsible. I am not a damsel in distress either ! You taught me how to defend myself and I am not that easily traumatized. I live with and was raised by you ! Alastor Hazbin, most famous Radio Host, the man that never stops smiling, the man that accomplished the impossible, the man who proudly adopted and raised a child with well manners and the very shadow in the night that kills scum that deserve it ! I’m a tough cookie, I won’t crumble THAT fast !”, you persisted.

He stared at you, uncertainty in his eyes and his smile so very strained, close to a concerned frown. You both stayed seated in the living room, listening to the new record that Alastor bought.

What were you arguing about ? You wanted to try out dating someone and Alastor, your Father, absolutely HATED the very idea.

“Just once, Pa. Pretty please. Let me try out dating someone at least this once. I wish to know what it feels like.”, you pleaded with him again.

Your Father took a deep breath and stood up.

“I fear I have to retire to bed now, mon ange (My Angel). Sleep well, Dear.”, he said and gave you a kiss on the forehead, then left.

You had a crestfallen look on your face. Alastor wasn’t blind, he saw it too. He needed time to think about this. Don’t get him wrong, the Radio Host KNEW this would happen one day or another, but he was never ready for the day it would happen. He was very concerned for your safety. Men...were swines. You...were an absolute angel. It just didn’t fit, in his opinion. His sweet loving daughter and an abusive swine at your side, leashing you and using you for whatever he wanted...no...Alastor hated that bare thought.

He could feel himself getting sick at the pure imagination, that you would get a man and he would instantly collar and leash you. Like his Father did with his Mother.

He laid there, in bed, wide awake, for three hours that night. As you retired for the night he could hear you sobbing and whimpering and his heart felt oh so shattered, just hearing you crying. He knew he was the cause of your sadness. He just wanted to protect you, but he understood you as well.

You were a Teenager and you wanted to feel a different kind of love. You wanted to explore a new area and usually Alastor was supportive of your adventurous side. But...this was about men and men could NEVER be trusted. His Father and the men he killed, were the perfect example ! They hurt and abused their wives and sometimes even their own children, they raped women and left them to die or with a Bastard child, they yell at their wives, degrade them whenever they saw fit, emotionally scarred them and traumatized their own Family !

He didn’t want the same thing happening to you. You were his beloved daughter and he could never forgive himself, if something happened to you. This was a difficult decision for him.

You wanted to at least try and court someone for once, while he was very much against the thought alone. What course of action should he take ? What would be the safest, best idea ? Continue to deny you and break your heart, or let you try and possibly end up hurt and...most possibly cold hearted ? Alastor heard of it. Some men were so brutal, that the woman they dated ended up with a cold heart and never courted again.

What was he supposed to do ? Give in, or continue to hurt your feelings ?

-Time skip-

You woke up and were not in the mood to get out of bed. You were sad and hurt that your Father refused to let you try and find out what else love would feel like. You were just curious. Only one try, but even to that he said no and then he just left you and retired for the night.

That one hurt the most.

The door opened and the smell of cooked breakfast entered your room.

“Y/n, Sweetheart~! I made you your beloved pancakes~!”, your Father sang out with a big smile.

You didn’t react and didn’t move, which made your Father’s smile dim slightly. He ripped open the curtains and opened your window for fresh air. The birds were chirping and the breeze was a pleasant welcome in your room, you loved the wind and air outside, it made you feel free. Alastor knew that.

Then your Father sat down next to your curled up form and ran his fingers through your hair, gently. He sighed. He knew you were awake, but in a foul mood from yesterday evening still.

“Listen Cher...I thought long and hard about your idea from yesterday, while I was in bed. I understand why you want this so bad, but please understand me too, Darling. I can’t always be there for you. I just want to keep you safe for as long as possible.”, he carefully started.

You continued to listen, already knowing this, but not saying anything.

“If you have someone, you want to court and explore a new territory with...then you have my permission for now...”

Your head snapped up and you stared at him in shock, he held his finger up, telling you to be silent, he wasn’t finished.

“BUT ! If that filthy speck of dirt dares to lay a hand on you, I will not hesitate to kill him and you will NEVER court anyone again ! Understood ?”

You nodded quickly, happy tears in your eyes. You sat up and quickly wrapped your arms around your Father, hugging him tightly.

“Thank you so much, Papa ! You have no idea what this means to me !”, you sobbed out happily.

He hugged you back tightly, not saying a word. But...he felt bile rise up in his throat.

‘I can’t believe I said yes to this...’

-Later that day-

You went out and told your Father that you will meet up with the man that you decided to court and see if there will be anything happening. Alastor let you go with a lot of hesitation. Heck, he even made you go through all the methods how to hurt a man again, just to see if you remember everything !

You told him where you will be, when you will be back and then left.

But the Radio Host couldn’t help worrying. He dressed up in formal clothes, but they wouldn’t be too much of a loss to get rid of, shall he get messy. Grabbed his hunting knife, hid it in his coat and then he was off, shadow trailing you.

The man he saw you meet up with, didn’t seem very suiting for you. He always stayed far enough away, but was still close enough to see you both. You were taking a walk in the park first, talking and joking with each other, then you went out to eat at a restaurant, which the boy paid for and then you started to laugh and talk some more.

Alastor wasn’t sure how to feel. You seemed happy... But that boy...didn’t seem very safe. Maybe..Alastor was just overreacting...but he didn’t like him.

As it was time to go home for you, the both of you parted ways. You left a kiss on his cheek and then you walked away from one another. He offered to bring you home, but for the sake of your Father’s safety and your new friend’s, you said no.

As you returned home, you saw your Father pacing the living room. As soon as you closed the front door, he snapped his head to you and looked at you, face full with worry.

“How...did it go, mon petit (My little one) ?”

You shrugged your shoulders.

“It went good, I guess ? But it...we didn’t feel a spark, Pa. Like what all these romance books say when you find the right one you want to be with ? That didn’t happen.”

He looked relieved, yet confused.

“And what does that mean now, for the two of you ?”

You smiled at your Father happily.

“We decided that we will stay friends and agreed to meet next week again  ! Oh, Papa, you would love this boy ! He has no issue with mixed and dark skinned people either ! He finds them rather interesting ! He is so kind too ! You and him would become great friends !”

“Would we now ?”

“Yes, yes, you would ! Kenny is such a kind soul !”

Alastor made a humming sound.

“I suppose we can meet him next time here, then. If you want.”

You nodded eagerly.

“Yes, I would LOVE to ! He offered to get me home too, but I didn’t want to cause you a panic attack with him coming here already, so I declined. I hope you aren’t too mad about that.”

“Not at all, Cher !”

With that you talked with him about everything you and your new friend did and talked about. The next time Alastor met Kenny and he was pleasantly surprised that you were right. He and Kenny became quite good pals.

A/N: I hope this wasn’t trash. TvT I thought about this scene a lot, yet it seemed better in my head than on paper... Q-Q

Masterlist HERE !

[tyb1]

Standing In The Rain

pairings: Seth x reader

summary: after weeks of not talking due to secrets being held Seth finally confronts the reader while standing in the rain

warnings: angst then fluff 😋

w/c: 1087

Masterlist

A/N: Thank you guys for 1,000+ notes on Rainy Days ♥️🥺

“So you’re just going to leave me out in the rain!?” Seth yelled, his hands waving in the air as he tried his best to get your attention.

The rain poured down on the roof of your car, you sat watching the wipers push the hard rain off of your windows. Everything was calm for a few seconds, you had just arrived back from your night class. The news that was spreading on the radio caught your attention, and that was one of the reasons why you decided to sit in the car, the other was the rain that was pouring down. The final one was your boyfriend standing in the middle of your driveway blocking you from entering your house.

It has been approximately a week since you last spoke to him, it honestly didn’t bother you. Every time you thought about him you grew irritated with him and the situation he put you in. No explanation could honestly bring you out of this funk that you were in, however, if you didn’t allow him into your car your parents would come outside and invite him into your house.

With the most stoic facial expression, you unlocked the door, you kept your eyes on him as he made his way around to your car. Once he touched bases in your passenger seat you went back to what you were doing before he interrupted you. Seth on the other hand was pushing every button on the heat to get warm.

Your eyes raised with the utmost cockiness there was, “I thought you couldn’t get sick. Isn’t that the werewolf within you?”

Seth turned to look at you, from the corner of your eye you could still see the water pellets dropping from his skin. “Yeah, but I’m still soaking wet from the water. I’ve been standing out there for like 26 minutes.” He continued to ramble about the rain getting into his ears making them hurt when they dry. And how he was going to smell like a wet dog since his clothes were all muddy. He talked and talked until he finally stopped, he noticed that you weren’t listening to him. Your eyes were glued to your garage, too deep in your thoughts to even give a damn about what he was saying.

“Can I explain myself?” He asked, he reached into your back seat to grab a spare shirt of yours. His hands ran through his hair as he tried his best to dry it with the cotton material.

You looked down at your apple watch, it was already going on 9 at night. Your curfew was at 10 so that meant he only had approximately 10 minutes to explain himself.

“There’s honestly nothing to explain, I’ve heard it all Seth.” You turned to look at him, he was staring back at you with the utmost remorseful look. You could tell he meant no harm from the situation but it hurt knowing that he lied. “It hurts more knowing that I had to hear it from them rather than you.”

His eyes softened as he began to speak, “I know, trust me I was going to tell you but I didn’t want it to be too much on you. You know the whole werewolf thing is one thing but imprinting is a whole other situation. That was something special I was supposed to tell you.”

With your arms crossed you leaned back into the chair. The flashback of that day came dancing back into your head. The boys joking around with their girlfriends, Seth walked away from the group for one second and the beans were spilled. He could’ve warned the boys that you didn’t know, you sat there looking stupid with tears in your eyes. They told you what imprinting was, it sounded like Seth was only with you because he had to. You genuinely had a love for Seth Clearwater and it hurt to know that the same love that you had for him wasn’t the same for him. Seth's love was forced upon him, he had no choice but to you love.

Forcefully your eyes closed, and the hurt you felt from the weeks prior started to emerge. You could feel Seth pulling your arm into him. You didn’t bother to put up a fight, you allowed your body to melt into his wet one. “They made it seem like you’re only with me because of fate. Like we’re supposed to be in love because you imprinted on me. It honestly sounds creepy Seth.” You mumbled into his shirt, you could hear his heartbeat getting faster by the minute. He was nervous.

“See, That’s exactly why I didn’t want to tell you yet. It’s so much more than that (Y/N). I’m not with you because I imprinted on you, I’m with you because I genuinely have a love for you and I want to be with you.” His head rested on top of yours as he tapped his fingers gently against your skin.

“I don’t like the secrets Seth, that’s why I was so upset with you. You can’t hide things like this from me no matter how bad you think they are.”

“I know and I’m sorry. I was just trying to do the right thing. It’s a lot to take on but trust me when I say that I didn’t want to hurt you. I would never do that to you (Y/N). From now on no more secrets.”

He held out his pinky finger which you wrapped your own tightly around. That sealed the deal about everything you two just talk about Looking up at Seth you could see the moonlight reflecting off of his brown eyes, he looked like he was in deep thought. His eyes were panned out to the rain. Gently you shook his arm catching his attention, “Seth, I’m not blaming you for any of this. I guess I was just stuck in my own ways. I understand that you wanted to wait for my well-being which I respect so much about you. But next time could you please give your boys head-ups.” You laughed, Seth nodded his head. The biggest grin on his face.

With one hand under your chin, he brought your lips up to his. “You don’t have to worry about anything else princess.” He whispered those words against your lips before closing the space with his own.

[jinkookspencil]

stay | jjk

jungkook is drunk out of his mind, belting pop ballads in the middle of the night.... you had to check in on him

description/tw/tags: ~4k words / jungkook x (f) reader / one-shot / angst and fluff / friends to lovers / inspired by jungkook's recent lives!! i just had to :') / includes drunk, flirty jungkook and mentions of alcohol and drinking / oc stays sober / jungkook gets so drunk thinks he's having a steamy dream with oc gone wrong / feedback is always welcome and it's appreciated!! it's been a while since anyone really told me their honest thoughts on my fics 💗

Celine Dion’s voice blasting through your phone was not what you expected when you got a call from Jungkook, but it was enough for you to know exactly what he was doing. It was an odd thing, you realized. Jungkook never had never admitted to listening to Celine Dion, Taylor Swift, Adele, or any other musical queen you adored - he never protested when you blasted their songs through the car radio or when you belted out their songs during karaoke nights, but he never, ever sang along or reacted much either…. except for when he was drunk… except for when he was too drunk. And it was only ever when he was drunk and alone or drunk and with you. In front of his friends or to you when he was sober, he still pretended he couldn't name a Celine Dion song besides "the Titanic one." But you knew better. Between her iconic vocals through the phone, you could hear Bam’s dog collar jingling, Jungkook’s all over the place but still excellent singing and humming, and finally… sniffles. In the blink of an eye, you were in a cab on your way to his place, not hanging up and listening to him sing “My Heart Will Go On” and "All By Myself" over and over until you got there. Right at the brief moment of silence when the song ended, you knocked on the door, extra loudly and in your signature pattern, so he’d know it was you - but it seemed to only signal Bam, who obviously knew it was you before Jungkook did, jumping up and down even before his owner opened the door in confusion.

“Bamie-,” you giggle against the dog’s nose while he licks yours, Jungkook still disoriented when you look up at him.

“H-hiiiiii,” he forces a smile on his face after realizing you were actually there. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard Celine Dion, so I came,” you say, ruffling Jungkook’s long hair and plopping down on his living room couch. He’s still standing by the door, trying to realize the situation. “You must’ve drunk-called me while trying to choose a song, idiot. Or maybe you were trying to call someone else.” You push away the thought. “Anyways, I’m here to make sure you’re okay. And to see the secret Taylor Swift setlist later.”

“Ahhhhhhhhhh. I actually called you….” Jungkook nods, trying to remember if he did while you figure out what he meant. He chuckles, clicking his tongue before offering you the gigantic, half-filled stein in his hand. “Do you want some beer?”

“I’m here to make sure you don’t do anything crazy, Koo. Don’t make me a problem, too.”

Jungkook holds back a smile while grabbing a second microphone and dramatically turning around, his long hair twirling behind him. “It’s me. Hi. I’m the problem. It’s me.”

“Oh god, Jungkook,” you shake your head backwards. Were your persistent efforts at trying to get him to listen to Taylor Swift worth it if he was going to make such cheesy jokes? When you look up and see his scrunched-up nose and proud smirk, you have your answer. It was.

“Nah, I’m not done with my girl Cel-Celine Dion. You know, she’s a very good singer.” It’s only now, when Jungkook says the most obvious statement, do you notice how slurred his voice is. “I still haven't done these songs, yet. ‘The Power of Love' and 'It's All Coming Back To Me' - my… my drinking songs, join and let's GO!”

You watch Jungkook pace around his living room, belting out the song while holding his beer glass with an iron grip, and you can’t help but think about the floppy-haired boy in front of you rather than the not-so-careful steps and chugs he took mid-song, ignoring the mic in your hand. You could never count the days and nights you spent with Jungkook. It all started with the ‘Netflix and Chill’ nights. When he suggested it, you’d panicked until he insisted he meant actually chilling and watching Netflix - and whether it was cuddly, commentary-filled K-drama sessions or drunken fried chicken and reality show nights, you enjoyed every minute of it…. but more so when those nights evolved. As cute as though nights may be, they were topped. The caring, vulnerable nights where you’d slowly unravel a new emotional layer of yourself to the other and the moon - with no one else in the know… those were the ones that destroyed you and put you together again, all at once. You doubted Jungkook even had a deeper side to him until you both laid yourselves out in front of one another - little by little and without judgment or fear. You dreamed of the days the unraveling happened physically as well. When you’d see him during the days, and whether it was just the two of you or with your friends, it seemed as though the sun had an inkling of the bond that formed while she was away, shining a little brighter every time you saw his face, casting her beautiful golden rays onto the boy that shined just as brightly.

A confession forever rested on the tip of your tongue, ready to slip out whenever he flashed his bunny-toothed smile, scrunched up his perfectly round nose, or jokingly teased you. And yet… you never could say anything…. especially since you think you already did. It’s the real reason you vowed never to drink with Jungkook again - you could barely remember anything but the fleeting feeling of his lips on your forehead, being in his arms, and waking up in the morning in your underwear to see him shirtless on the floor beside the bed you lay on. Jungkook’s bed, you later found out - after a party he threw. You mainly remember walking into the kitchen and seeing his roommate and bestie Taehyung preparing breakfast in silence, which only made the morning more unbearable, given his god-awful cooking skills. You fled in minutes and, to this day, had no recollection or idea of what actually happened. Jungkook never said anything either, so you were certain you dreamt the entire ordeal. He stayed relatively the same, save for a few arm grazes that shocked you to your core - a little more than they used to. You almost consider forcing him to watch a K-drama or a horror film - just for the cuddle he'd end up giving you.

But you were here, watching him passionately wrap up a ballad and wiping away a tear that formed in his eye. He was unbelievable.

“I didn’t think she could make you cry.”

“Yeah, well, she sang the Titanic song too, didn’t she? Don’t you know me?”

“I do, Koo,” you whisper into the microphone he had handed you.

“It’s all coming back to me too. It all ends when I'm with you. And my heart will go on, Celine... You get me, Celine,” he utters as he plops down beside you, his hand outstretched behind you as he selected a song, neglecting Bam by his legs.

“Bam wants attention.”

“He always gets my attention,” Jungkook says, eyes fixated on the TV in front of him.

“I’m gonna use that line on you the next time you give me the eyes he’s giving you now.” Jungkook was always a master at pouting and the classic puppy-dog eyes, and in the split second he looked confused, you begin to wonder if it was never intentional. But he quickly looks at his pet and babies him when catching the dog’s neediness, giving you the freedom to grab the remote and pick a song.

“Remember, only pop queens,” he insists in a baby-like voice, his eyes and hands still on Bam. And you found just that - a playlist of nothing but tracks from pop queens, most on your regular playlist. Meaning you knew almost every word, and so did Jungkook. Two hours of singing later, Jungkook’s honey voice and your scratchy one both grew tired. Music videos it’d be, you thought - still in total control of the remote. By the third music video, you were bored - you’d seen them all before, while Jungkook - or more specifically, drunk Jungkook - was mesmerized. And in a flash you neglected the screen altogether, staring instead at the boy right beside you. With your hand on your chin, you study him. You never could when he was sober - his eyes would immediately find yours, and one of two things would happen next: you’d look away in embarrassment, or he’d would pull a funny face. But this was different. He was focused, well, as much as a drunk person could be, softly humming along or murmuring something about the camerawork or costume design - you could barely hear whatever it was he said. Sure, his face looked puffy and drunken, even in his dimly lit apartment…. but he was beautiful. He was beautiful in his side profile, his stare and concentration, the fluffiness of his hair, and the gigantic, soft, muscled arm he flexed beside you. He had no idea just how beautiful he was—just being.

You must’ve been staring for too long because Jungkook turns, catching you - as he always did. You expected it and waited for him to stick out his tongue jokingly, scrunch up his nose, or wiggle his brows… something goofy. The last thing you expected was the softest smile that crept up on his face - the wonder in his eyes remaining, the way you’d been looking at him. And just like that, you look away again, thinking you’d be able to stick it out this time and ignore his presence entirely or make a funny face of your own. You want to frown, but the stinging in your cheeks hurts too much from smiling at him.

“What’s up with you?” he giggles for a very brief moment before repeating the question with that same damn smile on his face. In your periphery, you see him ruffle his hair and you dig your nails into your skin to stop you from reaching out and doing the same.

“Nothing,” you let out, feeling his gaze on you as you looked towards the screen and Bam sleeping just beneath it. A whole music video later, the feeling of his eyes on you grew unbearable. He didn’t even look away when he continued to drink from the glass in his hands.

“Find something better to do, Koo,” you say, folding your arms and mustering up the courage to look at him.

“Hmmm?” the drunken, dazed smile on his face was goofier and sweeter than ever.

“I want a glass of water,” you say, looking towards the fridge, hoping he’d be a good host and stand up to get you one, finally breaking his gaze in the process.

“Well, I want you.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. As if you weren’t being tortured enough by his adorableness already... did the flirty side have to make an appearance? But it wasn't a surprise. Jungkook flirted all the time, definitely more than usual when he’s tipsy. It was so excruciating that you damn near scolded Jimin and Chan, the friends he’d picked up the flirting from. All you wanted to say was that you wanted him too, but he’d never mean it the way you did. The giggle he let out when you rolled your eyes proved it - he just liked seeing you all riled up.

“I’m thirsty, JK,” you whine, but he keeps giggling. “Yah, drunk boy - get me a glass of water,” you insist, poking his tattooed arm and letting your finger rest there - he winces between his little laughs, touching the skin and a little of yours.

“Jungkoooook. Don’t ignore me,” you pout.

You don’t know what it is, but something about those three words makes Jungkook jump up from his spot, his laughter fading quickly as he walked over to the fridge, covering his face with his hands.

“Don’t do that,” he mutters.

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t…,” he starts before clearing his throat. “Don’t poke me like that. I’m old and sore now. Your Jungkook works hard in the gym and can’t handle it like he used to.”

Your Jungkook. If only you could send him off on another errand to make you forget about him and those words for a moment. But, alas, you were in his apartment. He was too drunk. Bam was stirring in his sleep.

Jungkook returns a freshly filled stein for himself, a glass of water for you.... and a pair of thin-rimmed glasses on his face. The ones he only ever wore at home, during your late-night visits, that none of his friends ever saw. The ones that always fed your delusions of the domestic days with Jungkook you wished you could have for the rest of your life.

“Sure, you don’t want a sip?” A frozen glass swings into your line of vision, snapping you out of your daze.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

“…..Shame…” he whispers into the glass as he chugged down half of its contents before setting it down and hiding his face in his arms, folded on the edge of the couch.

“Don’t judge me for not drinking. Just look at the state of you.”

“I’m not. It’s… it’s a shame that that’s what you’re the surest of. What happened to being sure of yourself, hmm?”

You weren’t in the mood for one of your deep talks, which was unusual for you. You usually would jump at any opportunity to talk to Jungkook, even when he was drunk - like the time he spat out a life lesson he learned in the third grade you’d never thought of in your entire life. He was the only person who ever made it safe enough for you to express your deepest fears and insecurities. His honest and supportive advice pushed you through. And you longed for the soft embrace he always gave you afterwards. It’s been weeks since you had one of those talks, days before the night/morning that was somewhere between a dream and a glitch in the matrix. But you couldn’t go there. You couldn’t bear to. Not tonight. Not with a drunk, floppy-haired, adorable, and out of-his-mind Jungkook that was adorable as ever, laying next to you singing pop ballads for hours. It’d have to wait.... even if he didn't want to.

“Tell me, what happened to being sure of yourself? Your thoughts, your ambition….your desires and feelings…” he slurs, waving his arm.

“I don’t know, Kookie,” you let out, grazing his arm. You can’t tell him that you’re sure you love him in more ways than one and that you’re not sure what to do about it.

“If you’re sure of something, act on it. If you’re not, still do it. Better to live with regrets with lessons learned than to never know,” he murmurs, his face resting on his elbow.

“So, can I commit a crime then?” you try to joke and change the mood.

“If you want to, sure. Oh, wait, don't. You've already committed one. I almost forgot," he nods, taking another sip of his beer. "You stole my heart."

"Fuck off," you laugh, reaching out to pinch his thigh instead of the arm he told you to avoid... "We'll talk about this another time, Kookie. Give me actual advice then."

"Okay, but I'll tell you some now. Try being sure of what you want in life. Act on it. Start that business you always wanted to. But I’m thinking.... start with.. a smaller step. Get that tattoo you always talked about. I’ll take you,” he says with a clear voice now, smiling as he looked up and brushed the inside of your arm, where you’d always talked about getting a tattoo. “I’m sure of what I want.”

“As always,” you say with a laugh. “What is it this time?”

“I told you. I want you.”

“Oh shut up,” you say, lightly shoving him this time, but he doesn’t budge, not even a little bit, nor does he giggle as he did earlier, just continues to stare at you and try to hold back…. something. You assume it’s a joke.

“Jungkook, stop - this isn’t funny.” You reply before you could even realize the words he’s saying.

“I’m not being funny.”

You stop and finally look at Jungkook’s face. He desperately tries to avoid your gaze but soon can’t help but look into your eyes - his were dilated and red from all the alcohol.

“You’re drunk,” you spit out, repeating the words softly.

“I am. But I’m sure of it when I’m sober, too,” he says, fidgeting with his fingers before playing with yours. “I’m sure that I want you. I was always sure. And I’m sure I want to hold your hand.” You can’t explain why you allow him to do so, knowing his state, and soon, his fingers find the ends of your hair and the base of your neck, grazing the skin there while his thumb rubs at your cheek. “I’m sure I want to -” he whispers against your lips, and you can’t help but jump at the very instance you feel his breath against your lips.

“Jungkook, no,” you lean back, holding the tears in your eyes and hoping he doesn’t feel the goosebumps on your skin. “Jungkook, you’re drunk.”

He immediately lets go of you, and you feel the world crumble in that brief moment, in fear you’d thrown away the only shot you had at the only thing you were sure you wanted, clinging onto the hope that he'll forget it all in the morning. But instead he shakes his head and looks… confused.

“It doesn’t go like this. This is weird,” he drawls, looking at his hands, you, Bam, and the rest of the apartment.

“What?” you say, just as confused as he seems to be, ignoring a sinking feeling in your stomach at the idea that Jungkook was confused his attempts at kissing girls never went “like this” - with a rejection that you didn’t want to give him.

“It doesn’t go like this! I’m… And you’re…. You’re here, but…. you’re not wearing any clothes. Why am I? Did we not get to that part of it yet?”

“Part of what?”

But Jungkook takes a look around the apartment again before quietly murmuring to himself. “This is a weird sex dream.”

Oh. OH.

He continues, thinking he's asleep.

“We’ve done this so many times, and it never went like this. I… Can’t you at least want me back in my dreams? Why… why is this dream different?”

”Jungkook…”

“Shhhh,” he lazily brings a finger to your lips. “Let me recap. It’s the same. My apartment’s the same. Why is Bam here? He’s usually in the other room. I’m here. You’re here. Wait…. are you?”

“I… I am, Jungkook.”

“No you’re not. You won’t be when I open my eyes.” he pouts, hiding his face in his elbow again.

“It’s like… It’s like that time I put you in bed when I found you drunk in your underwear in the corner at my party after you just… what did you do? Didn’t you say you just wanna dance in your underwear or some shit? Then you… said you wanted me to see you like that. I tried so fucking hard not to look. I put you to bed, and I at least expected to get some reality of waking up beside you, but… you weren’t there.

And I wanted to confess last night during karaoke, with all your favorite songs but... I didn't think I actually called you. It was just practice. Then I was so nervous I drank way, way too much, and I must've passed out. And now you're not even naked in my dreams - well, tonight's dream anyway... Is it because of the stress? And wait, why am I wearing glasses? I don't have you OR perfect vision in this dream?!" he pouts, taking off his glasses and throwing them across the couch before resting his head on his elbow, in his hands, and all over as he struggles with the realization.

Jungkook stays like that for a good minute, giving you time to take in the situation. Firstly, you’d never drink unsupervised at a party again because what the fuck… But you quickly remind yourself that it didn’t matter too much. He put you in bed. He saw you in your underwear and knew that you - or at least a part of you - wanted to be with him in that way. And not only that, he wanted to see you that way too. He wanted to wake up next to you. And Jungkook, awake and drunk, thought he was in a regular sex dream he had… with you…. and was upset at the idea of waking up without you beside him…. again. He wanted to confess. If his hands on your skin hadn't ignited your skin, the touch of him lingering there, you’d be certain you were dreaming too. He… he must’ve really been sure. Who were you to doubt that? He’s Jungkook.

Your hand reaches out to touch his face, not even knowing what you were about to say to him, but it didn’t matter. By the time you look back at him, he was already passed out, the pout still on his face, buried in his arms. Still beautiful. Any gentle attempt at waking him up proved to be futile - and more for you than it was for him. The cheek grazes, the head scratches, the arm squishes - finally yours to touch after he’d been flexing in his short-sleeves all night long. There was no way it hurt like it said he did. Standing up and tugging his arm until he got on his feet nearly did it, and you had to help his drunken and dazed self all the way to his bed. He was just awake enough to lie down on his own.

You stare at him on the bed below you, and with the quiet chirping of the birds outside his window and the early sunlight streaming in below his curtains…. you knew this was the most peaceful moment you had ever experienced in your life, so you took it all in. He'd forget about this tomorrow, but you'd remember it for the rest of your days.

When you suspected Jungkook finally drifted off to sleep again, you reluctantly turned away from the scene and made your way to his bedroom door.

“Stay.”

You’re unsure you heard correctly, but he repeats the word.

“Stay…. please.”

Turning back, you see Jungkook’s tattooed arm outstretched toward you. Inviting you in.

With the serenity of it all and your heart laid out in front of you, it was an offer you couldn’t refuse. Especially since he wasn’t the only one that was up all night. You turn over the covers, holding Jungkook’s hand before gently snuggling into his arms…. and just like that he passes out for real, a soft moan and a snore escaping him instantly. You could dash out. You could run, try to forget the night and hope he does too. But you don’t. Because he’ll wake up. Because he's sure. And because you’re sure too. And you’ll be there to tell him.

[coffeewithcocoa]

Drunk Confessions—Part 2 Final

Part 1

Human Alastor x Male Reader

Warnings: Fluff//Suggestive Language//Romantic Relationship//FEMALES DNI

—————————————————————

His smile faltered as the words were running through his head. I love you. Did you actually, or was it just a hoax? Could it possibly be that you were drunk, maybes. Only you would know until you spill it to him. Alastor had his eyes stuck to you. Breathing was shallow as his mind couldn’t leave the topic until you told the truth.

A friend from childhood

There’s no way that you could possibly love someone like him. The thoughts that were racing in him head made him want to cry. Want him to drop his smile, his gentleman act so he can cry. ‘Why do I feel like this?!’

He doesn’t want to reject him because as much as it’s wrong, he has feeling for him too. Shoved deep into his mouth, down his throat and out his ass, but there still feelings. Feelings that he didn’t know how to act upon because he’s not used to it. Alastor’s smile rose up again before he admitted to laughter.

It’s a joke.

He was a radio host and he knows jokes when he sees one. Yet if this was a joke then..he still couldn’t tell. ‘Why are emotions so hard?!’ He told himself as he tried to control his laughter. Alastor began to shake at the thought before someone barged into the booze cellar.

Alastor’s eyes went up to the person who had walked in very rudely. Then again, this isn’t the exact place that one should be in. “Well if it isn’t the fucking radio bitch.” Husk smiled at Alastor. He heard in in some of the convo between the two of you, until you passed out of course.

“He..” Alastor tried to talk but words weren’t forming correctly. “I know, I heard it. Now get the fuck out.” Husk grumbled as he shooed Alastor. Husk went down and picked up your limp figure, the smell of booze reeked on you.

“Here, take ‘em.” He put you in Alastor’s arms. Walking off to go back to whatever he was doing before getting distracted with listening in. Alastor looked around for a place he can set you while the place died down. Finding a nice seating area, Alastor, gently, placed you in the booth so you were comfortable until you awoke from the influenced state.

Alastor ordered a few drinks here and there as he waited for Mimzy and Husk to be done so they all could walk together. A water waiting for you until you woke up. Your sleeping figure still on the comforted bench. The place had died down some more, only five people being there to help clean up the mess.

A yawn left your mouth as your eyes drifted to the water in front of you then to Alastor, who was looking somewhere else. A slight pang in your head as you could barely remember anything you did that night or in the cellar.

With a slight movement to grab the water, Alastor’s eyes shot towards you. Seeing that you were now awake he moved closer to you. Not wanting to bring up and of the events of what happened not to long ago. “Are you alright Cher?” His eyes soft along with his voice.

You nodded slowly and rubbed your eyes, grabbing the water that still had the ice cubs in it. Taking a long drink Alastor asked. “Do you remember anything that happened?” He looked away as almost he was embarrassed from the subject.

You couldn’t tell he was sweating. He was hiding it to well. “Surprisingly..I do.” You placed the glass down with a small ‘clink.’ Alastor tried to hold in a choke, swallowing it and asking another question. “Was it true, dear?”

This time you looked away. “Yes.” You mumbled out. “I’ve been holding in those feeling for a while. I don’t exactly know what came over me but when I was under the influence I lost my own fight and ended up telling you.” You sighed, “I’m sorry if I made things uncomfortable.”

The room went silent. It was as if no one was there but you and Alastor. The air was thick as no one said a word. That’s when Alastor spoke. “Its quite alright dear. If I’m being honest with myself..I feel the same way.” He slowly looked over to you, you doing the same and both locking eyes with each other.

You swallowed a lump in your throat and chuckled. “Really?” He took his glasses off and cleaned them. “I wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t mean it love.” You rolled your eyes and chuckled again, not realizing what he called you until he kissed your forehead.

A small yawn left your throat as he pulled away. “Tired Cher.” You hummed. “Let us go then.” He started getting up from the booth you were sat at. Once he stood up he held out his hand for you to take. Grabbing it thankfully you stood up and started heading out.

Mimzy stopped you guys on the way out and thanked you for stopping by for a while. “I hope ya’ll get some nice rest.” She said sweetly. “We will. Thank you for the splendid time tonight!” Alastor chuckled out. “Alright well bye now!”

It was a silent night once you left the speakeasy. Crickets chirping while the sound of your shoes walking along the sidewalk. You looked to your right to look at Alastor. Not believing that your little drunk confession worked. Even if you guys didn’t start dating, you were just happy you shared your feeling with him. Drunk or not.

-

Alastor thought it would just be easier if he took you back to his lovely cabin in the woods. The one where he was born and raised in until he was able to own it himself. It was quite a beautiful one too. A lovely exterior and interior, made all from wood.

When Alastor opened the door he gently set you down on the couch, moving back tot he door so he could close it. Not wanting to get any unwanted visitors.

He went back to you. Helping you get settled in for the night. “I hope you enjoyed yourself tonight dear.” He asked as he helped you take your coat off. “Mm..I did Al. I did.” You hummed out tiredly.

After another second your coat came off easily. Alastor went to hand it up o the coat rack, when he came back you pressed a small kiss into his lips. It was loving and with a hint of passion to. When you separated you placed your head on his chest.

“I love you. You don’t have to say anything back. I just wanted to let you know.” You wrapped your arms around his neck in a loving manner as he just stood there like a lost puppy. He was so confused on what to do next that he just let a small chuckle out and completely gave up life.

The rest of the night was a blur. He woke up with you in the couch. Your head on his shoulder and a blanket on your side. Alastor’s back hurt a bit when standing but that’s natural for sleeping in the couch, especially in that position.

He got up to go to the kitchen. The sun was barely over the horizon which meant it was able to make some breakfast. Especially with a night like last night. Upon leaving the living room he looked over his shoulder. His usual, wide grin, turned into a small, genuine smirk.

“I love you too, m/n.” He muttered out, ‘More than you know..’ He whispered to himself, finally going into the kitchen.

—————————————————————

SORRY THAT THE END IS RUSHED!! I just wanted to get a part 2 out. Now I don’t know if this is going to be the finish but I want to take a break from this mini series and work on some requests that I’ve gotten not to long ago. Again, sorry this is rushed. I just want to work on requests though.

[silvervioletvalentine]

❣️Only love could hurt like this❣️

Pairing: max verstappenXCherrie. Word count:14k

Warnings:angst.cherries fathers death.serious miscommunication. But happy ending:))

Cherrie tried to walk away from the meeting room as fast as she possibly could without making it obvious that she was trying to run away from him, although she was sure that the unpleasant look on her face and the way that she had completely blanked him the whole time during the meeting, might have possibly gave herself away.

Hearing her assistant and close friend, Amy, whisper underneath her breath 'keep calm. Don't react please.' To her almost pleadingly as she got stopped by one of the team members before she could chase after her and make sure that Cherrie didn't cause a fight literally minutes after signing her contract.

Unfortunately for Amy, it meant that she was unable to stop Max from barging out of the room with a look of thunder on his face, quickly pacing after Cherrie , clearly ready to pick an argument with the bane of his existence.

He had spent the majority of the meeting glaring at her like he wanted to jump across the table and throttle her for even being there .

All the time she had just avoided his eyes and mainly kept quiet , humming along and nodding whenever someone spoke to her. Refusing to even look at max, even when he had stared her down the whole time with a scowl on his face.

She knew better than to fight him in front of her new team principal and team. She wasn't that stupid.

No. Instead she waited until they were far enough from everybody else, alone in a random corridor bedore abruptly stopping in her stride and spinning around on her heel to face him with a equally as pissed off glare .

"You should take a fucking picture max! Am I that irresistible that you just can't look away from me?!" She snapped at him sarcastically, crossing her arms across her chest confrontationally .

Broadening her shoulders and straightening her back as much as she could to look more intimidating, but by the twitching of his lips as he eyed her defensive posture, she could tell it didn't do much in the way of scaring him off.

It didn't help that she literally had to look up at him, max glaring down his nose at her judgmentally while she tried to remind herself to take some deep calming breaths.

That she could not attack him. That was wrong... really wrong but..

Max scoffed at her hatefully "you're such a fucking hypocrite! What happened to your unfading loyalty to ferrari? Or should we add liar along to your list of traits now too?" He spat at her, utterly furious by the way his life had just been completely turned upside down so quickly .

He had known that there had been rumours of Cherrie transferring to A different time seeing as her contract with Ferrari was up, but with the way that she had spent years driving for her fathers team, determine to win with the reds just like her dad did, max had genuinely been convinced that she would have taken the extended contract that Ferrari had practically begged her to sign.

She had been their number one driver after all and they couldn't really afford to lose her. Even with their shitty failure and terrible strategies, she had been bringing points to them.

Usually when she refused to listen to her team radio and instead did whatever she felt was right on the track instead . That was how she usually won, by ignoring them and doing her own strategy instead . Just like her legendary father had too.

Cherrie felt anger rush through her like hot lava, glaring back at him hatefully .

"Things change Max! This wasn't a decision that I just took over night. I'm just doing what's best for myself. You should understand that!" She threw back at him . Abruptly turning back around to continue getting as far away from him as possible .

Fighting back a loud groan of misery when she heard his hurried steps to catch up with her, his shoulder brushing hers as he scowled down at her , not finished with their argument yet.

Cherrie was convinced that no matter what she did or what she said, max would never leave her alone. He always had an opinion on what she did, always had to tell her it too. As though it was just impossible for him to just leave her the fuck alone instead .

She had expected this reaction from him of course, she wasn't naive. She knew that he wasn't going to be happy when he found out that she had signed a contract to become redbull's new driver. It was mostly likely a living nightmare for him.

Because it was no secret to anybody that the two of them didn't get along in the slightest. It had started from a very earlier age during karting, it had been a nasty rivalry in the making for the both of them.

It had started simply because Cherrie was dominating him in every race , with her fathers knowledge and winning practically in her blood, she was destined to become a racing champion.

She wouldn't stop until she did. It was expected of her , she had the whole legacy of her father waiting for her and there was no way in hell that she was going to step aside for anybody , definitely not max.

The two of them had spent years fighting for the title, going up in ranks and nearly matching points the whole time . Until Cherrie had finally did it, she won f2 and immediately she was signed onto Ferrari as a rookie when she was eighteen , becoming the first ever rookie to win world championship with them too.

She had been on top of the world and max didn't like it, the pressure from his father to be the best and become the champion falling heavy on his shoulders with each race that she won and had over him.

Then he had finally started to get close to beating her when redbull had given him a better car.

He was faster , he was determined and he wasn't going to let Cherrie beat him again. He just couldn’t.

Unfortunately while he was so determined to win, so locked in his own head that it was almost like he wasn't racing against any other drivers , he didn't care about them, he just wanted to beat Cherrie .

Which had led to him making some unforgivable mistakes and errors of judgment on his part, ones that he would never admit out loud that he regretted.

So lost in his own cloud of winning, so stubborn and determine not to let Cherrie beat him again, so sick of seeing the look of disgust and disappointment on his fathers face when she passed him over the finish line again and again, even with her shitty car.

Knowing that he had the power behind him to win , he had a better engine and a better team. Yet for some reason , Cherrie just seemed to pass him Each time like it was as easy as breathing to.

He had gotten frustrated and angry, more so at himself and the pressure that was being put on him to become the greatest. To beat her. That he had let the anger and resentment cloud his judgment and his morals.

The day that max had sent her spinning off the track , refusing to let her pass him on a sharp corner of the Spanish Grand Prix , had done nothing but make their animosity and hatred of each other get worse .

The look on her face when she finally pulled herself out of her car at the same time he did, the two of them glaring at each other with nothing but hatred in their eyes. Was the day that any hopes of the two ever being friendly went to absolute shit.

The battle had then become between the two of them instead .

They went wheel to wheel , both of them refusing to let the other one pass them which resulted in them crashing more than a couple of times. Because max would rather that they both lose than let her win him again.

So sick of hearing the ridicule and disbelief that was aimed at him when she stood first on the podium with a proud smirk on her face , a sea of red below her chanting her second name proudly .

The two had clashed so badly that their team had taken to making sure that the both of them were separated from each other as much as possible, only it was a pretty difficult thing to achieve when they both had to go to the cooling room together and then they both got podium .

That was also the first time that the world got to witness the bitterness between the two of them and how bad it really was.

It was also the first time that Cherrie had punched him on live tv. And It was also the first time that they got to hear max call her a conceited , narasstic , evil bitch to her face too.

Safe to say that they had both been given a hefty fine and forced to take anger mamnegmnt classes with a therapist for a couple of weeks.

It hadn't done much for their fury towards each other. Cause the a couple of weeks after that alteration , they had been caught screaming at each-other in the paddock again. Both of them refusing to admit which one was wrong after colliding again on the tracks.

It had gotten to the point where seeing the two top drivers verbally assaulting each other was just another day for everyone around them. Their teams having given up on trying to keep them separated and telling them to behave.

Instead they just sighed and muttered at them not to take it to a blood bath instead.

So yes. The two were not friends .

So the news of her being his new teammate , the same woman that did nothing but get underneath his skin and make him so fucking angry that he couldn't think straight, was now the woman that he was going to race side by side with, in the same fuckimg car, as a team?!

Yes, he was a little pissed.

He couldn't believe his luck at all. She had spent years beating him but the one thing that max always held onto to make himself feel better was the fact that he had the better car. Had the better team around him now.

And now she had to take that from him too?

"You have spent years trash talking redbull and now you're joining us?! Why not Mercedes?! I know they wanted you too!" It was true. In fact, every team wanted her, she was one of the best. Besides him of course.

So why did she have to chose redbull? Was she trying to ruin his life even more than she already did?!

Cherrie rolled her eyes, pulling a destained face at him. "No. I spent years trash talking you. Not your car! And I don't have to explain myself to you. I did what I had to do. End of!" She snapped at him before shoving past him, making sure she pettily bashed her shoulder against his arm roughly as she did so.

Max wasn't having it.

Scoffing loudly as he paced beside her , easily catching up as she stomped over to the nearest exit door possible.

"This is unbelievable." He stated more to himself disbelievingly . Wondering if he was really that evil in his past life to deserve this.

She lived rent free in his fucking mind when she was on a completely different team. How the hell was he supposed to cope as her teammate?

Feeling both anger and uneasiness fill his chest, knowing that only one of them would come out on top. They both couldn't be redbull's number one .

And statistically it was shown that out of the two of them, Cherrie was the winning one between them.

He blamed the fact that her father was literally a legend in formula one.

The man has been a sixth time world champion , dominating the sport like it was as easy as breathing to him. And the only reason why he still wasn't champion of the world was because life had cruelly took him away during a accident on the track .

But before he had died he had spent years teaching his little daughter , his only child, every single thing he knew making sure that she would grow up and continue to proudly bare his legacy and make their name stay legendary.

Her future had been destined . She had known what she was going to be since the moment she could walk and talk and be out into that kart .

And what did max have? A father that never believed in him. A father that had never told him that he could be world champion. One that only ever wanted anything to do with him when he was winning.

If he didn't bring home a tital or a win, then in his fathers eyes, he didn't deserve to even speak to him, he was a disappointment.

It only furthered to fuel his misguided anger towards Cherrie.

She had everything. She always had. She always came first and had everything that he ever wanted.

It wasn't fair.

Then he thought of her last teammate who was no doubt utterly heartbroken at her move and scoffed even louder.

Scrunching up his face bitterly "and I bet your human backpack is crying his heart out somewhere over the news. I doubt he's taking this well." Max sniped , taking a jab at their constant closeness to one another.

Another thing that he just couldn't stand. While max had to do this alone, barely making any friends and without anyone by his side to celebrate his wins.

Cherrie had everyone on her side. Because everybody loved her. She was the daughter of a racing legend , she was adored by all.

Every driver loved her. Max couldn't go a day without hearing someone gush about her and he had unfollowed her teammate on all socials the minute he started posting pictures of the two of them doing everything together . Holidays . Cooking videos. Cute little selfies in a hot tub together .

He decided then that he hated him too. It just wasn't fair at all.

How could he have been stuck with the shortest straw like this?

Cherrie looked over at him blankly , confusion taking away the need to kill him for a moment as she blurted out a "huh?" Wondering what the hell he was talking about.

Human backpack? What the fuck?

Max just smirked at her coldly , shaking his head as though he thought she was playing stupid.

There was no way that she didn't know who he was referring too. In fact, max was surprised that he wasn't right there beside her glued to her side while they argued too.

"I'm just saying . Charles can't be very happy with you leaving him on his own. Who is he going to cling to now?" He muttered bitterly , looking away from her striking eyes for a moment when her glare became too much for him to hold his gaze with.

Cherrie immediately shoved at his shoulder at his insult towards Charles , face darkening .

"Don't fucking talk about him like that. He has nothing to do with this." She spat at him.

Protective of the Ferrari driver that she had been lucky enough to grow close to over the years. They had become best friends and Cherrie had become incredibly protective over him.

And honestly one of the only reasons to why she had stayed clinging onto ferrari for so long was because she didn't want to leave him on his own to deal with all the shit that came along with their team.

He wasn't as mentally strong as she was. He was a people pleaser and didn't like to upset people, which meant he often let people upset him instead , not saying a word about his own feelings , not wanting to cause a scene.

That was where Cherrie had come in and where the two of them had become a good team. Because Cherrie wasn't afraid of opening her mouth and putting people in their rightful place . She didn't care who she had to upset .

If someone fucked her over then she made sure that her wrath was known. And over the years she had made sure that the team knew that if they fucked over Charles too, she would have their heads on a fucking flag pole, waving it at any other asshole who dared to piss her off again.

So yes, she was worried about Charles being on his own to defend himself now.

And she felt guilty about her sudden move to the 'dark side' but she had to be selfish for once . She wasn't going to keep winning if she stayed with Ferrari and she wasn't going to let her father down.

If he was looking down at her , she wanted to make him proud. And she knew that he would want her to do the right thing and Cherrie knew that this was it.

Ferrari had left her no other choice but to leave.

"And anyways, he's been very supportive . Because he's a good guy who wants whats best for me." She added on defensively . Not liking the way max was looking at her at her like she was a liar.

He couldn't have rolled his eyes any harder if he tried . Shaking his head in disbelief "yeah fucking right. Who's going to have your little boyfriends back now? I'm fact, I'm surprised that he's not begging for a contract with redbull too. Seeing as he never fucking leaves your side!" He exclaimed looking over at her judgmentally .

Because he was certain that the two of them were not 'just friends'. They were too close and too familiar with each other.

Max had seen the way that Charles lit up just at the sight of her . Hell, they even spent Christmas with his family! He had seen the cozy pictures of the two of them in matching pjs in front of a Christmas tree, hugging each other's side with matching smiles on their faces.

It was ridiculous. And every time that max saw the two of them giggling together, seemingly in their own little bubble where no one else existed, he wanted to be sick.

Because once again. It wasn't fair at all!

Cherrie wanted to strangle him.

Taking in a deep breath to calm the urge to go absolutely mental at him.

Instead she strided out into the parking lot and tried not to imagine hitting him with her car.

"He's not my boyfriend." Was all she muttered , absolutely done with his shit as she dug her car keys out of her pocket . Looking around the spaces as she tried to remember where she had parked her car.

Max got his own out of his pocket two, not even thinking about it as he gave her a little shove on her back to get her to walk in the direction of where her Ferrari was parked. Right next to his.

"You'd think you'd have better memory dipshit. And there is one thing that you and your boyfriend have in common ... you can't park for shit!" He insulted her, glancing pointedly at her car that was parked sideways over the white line, taking up two spots instead of one.

Cherrie looked at her parking and tongued her cheek , unable to disagree with him. Despite how much she wanted too.

He was right . Parking was not her strong suit, which was ironic considering her job.

Instead she just muttered a moody "shut up." And got into her car.

There was a long moment where they both just looked at eachother as she turned on her engine , bedore she slid some sunglasses over her eyes and looked away.

Max cleared his throat bedore forcing his eyes away from her, feeling uncomfortable as he opened the door to his car quickly and quickly got in.

Rolling Down his window so she could hear him , pushing away the strange feeling they came over him, instead he took on a bored tone .

And told her "don't forget the conference on Friday. We're not Ferrari. So don't show up late otherwise you'll make us all look bad." He condescendingly snided. Referring to her inability to arrive on time to any meeting ever.

Immediately all her distain for him came rushing back as she scoffed angrily at him.

Reviving her engine loudly "I will not be late asshole!" Was all she spat before quickly reversing out of her spot carelessly , almost crashing into a trash can bedore she sped out of there , her wheels screeching .

Leaving max to shake his head with a small chuckle to himself as he carefully put out his car , reversing perfectly .

"Can’t park and can't reverse either. Surprised she can actually drive a car." He muttered to himself in amusement bedore driving away.

Hoping that his new teammate and himself didn't kill eachother before the season ended.

Cherrie showed up late to the press conference. Because of course she did.

She sheepishly walked into the room, the cameras clicking as she avoided Max's smug expression , not looking at any of them as she slid carefully into her seat beside him.

Nodding at the press reluctantly , putting her bottle of water on the table. Smiling a little to herself as she glanced down at the vinyl picture of her and Charles on it that a fan had given her .

Had she brought it with her to spite max a little after his comments about Charles and her being too close?

Maybe.

Did she care? No.

Had she been warned not to provoke or start any shit up with max for her own entertainment? Also Yes.

Was she going to listen?

Absolutely not.

"Sorry I'm late . I didn't want to come." She spoke into the small microphone stand in front of her, grinning at them to let them know that she was just joking.

A little bit.

Her media manager, in charge of making sure she didn't do or saying anything wrong to the press that could get her into trouble , face palmed . Already knowing that Cherrie was not about to do as she was told at all.

Max eyed her water bottle with a grimace , crossing his arms over his chest and silently shaking his head to himself . Deciding to be the better behaved one out of the two.

To prove they he was the more mature one out of them, he smiled over at her deliberately knowing that it would piss her off.

"Nice to see you finally arrive. You look good in blue." He slyly said as he eyed her blue redbull shirt that she was wearing . Before looking at her head and realising that she was missing something.

He picked up his own hat that had number 1 written across it. From him winning world champion last year . Only by a single point between the two of them, something that max liked to smugly remind her of.

He reached over and placed his redbull champions cap ontop of her head, winding her up.

"Can't forget the hat. We'll have to get a runners up one for you." He smirked . Ignoring his own team sharing exasperated looks between each other .

"Not even a minute in and they're already starting." Amy sighed to Max's assistant, not surprised at all.

Cherrie picked the hat off her head and threw it at him , hard. Watching it bounce off his head and onto the floor with a little satisfaction.

But not enough.

Max only laughed and picked his hat back up, placing it back on his head smugly .

"Fuck off you twat!" She snapped at him before she could stop herself. Using the new swear word that lando had taught her over the summer .

She liked it. She thought that it was a name that she could call max regularly now.

Then she heard the clicking of cameras and both amused and shocked muttering of the press in front of them, swiftly reminding her of where she was.

Slowly turning her head to look at them. Clearing her throat a little guiltily , she leaned back into her chair and smiled as innocently as possible.

"Sorry. What were you saying?" She directed her question over to the man with the microphone who had been trying to ask her a question before max distracted her.

The man looked between the two of them warily. Everyone seeing the way that max was smirking over at her , clearly amused with how easy it was to wind her up. While Cherrie was trying to ignore him all together.

If I don't look at him, then he isn't there. Cherrie told herself over and over again.

"I was saying... that it has come as a big surprise to everyone when redbull announced you as their new driver . With people expecting you to extend your contract with Ferrari. It's said that they even offered you twice as much for you to stay on with them and that you turned it down. Is that true?" He asked her , camera's filming her steadily .

Cherrie fiddled with her water bottle , slowly nodding her head yes.

She knew that she was going to be getting a lot of backlash for her sudden move from the team that her father had won his last championship with. She knew that people expected her to stay with them out of loyalty and legacy.

But she just couldn't do it anymore. So people would just have to get used to it.

She didn't care what anyone thought of her move , she was doing what was right for her in the long run.

You had to be selfish If you wanted to win. Loyalty to a team that was rapidly falling apart wouldn't get her the championship.

"They did. And I said no. No amount of money could make me want to continue to drive a car that is no longer suited to me ." She confirmed to them simply , glancing over at her press officer to see her nodding her head at her , telling her that she had said the right thing.

The man looked surprised "your father spent ten years with Ferrari. And won all of his world championships with them too. Do you not want to follow in his footsteps? Some would say that Ferrari was literally in your blood. Your destiny-"

Cherrie cut him off before he could say anything more about her father and her destiny in the same sentence.

"My destiny is to win." She corrected him shortly , lacing her fingers together and reminding herself to be calm. "And I can't win in a car that isn't fast enough and isn't powerful enough for me to pass the finish line with. The Ferrari just wasn't what I needed anymore." She told them honestly, not feeling a need to lie.

It was a secret to no one that she hadn't been very happy with her car for a long time. She had told her team so and told the press too on multiple occasions that it wasn't up to her standard anymore .

It had literally been falling apart on the track and Cherrie simply couldn't take it anymore.

Because while her father had won in a Ferrari , they seemed to forget that he also died in one too.

She didn't want to repeat history that way. And when she had to drag herself out of her car when her engine had caught fire last year without warning, she had made her decision there and then.

She wanted to be like her dad, but she didn't want to go out like him either.

Max was silently nodding along to what she was saying , understanding where she was coming from.

He hated to admit it but she was right.

The reporter was frowning "the team principal did say that they were working on improving the Ferrari and making sure that there wasn't a repeat of last years failures . Was that not enough reassurance to convince you to stay?" He followed up with , everyone silent as they waited for her answer.

Cherrie just looked at him blankly , shaking her head.

"No it wasn't. I told them before last year that they either got their shit together and fixed the car and gave me something good to drive ... or i wasn't driving it at all. I gave them the data, I gave them my advice and my options. I told them what to do and they couldn't do it." She bluntly answered, done sugarcoating how much shit she had to deal with while driving for the red team.

She wasn't going to beat around the bush anymore , Ferrari had done this to themselves. She was done.

She took a sip of her water and swallowed before continuing . "- and ya know, it doesn't matter how good of a driver you are. If you've been given a shit

Box that it literally falling apart and you have a team that are giving you soft tires instead of hard and giving you strategy's that make no sense.." she sighed in annoyance "well, you can't win at all."

Max smiled a little , looking over at her in slight amusement .

"So you tried to blackmail them into giving you a better car?" He mused .

Cherrie just nodded her head , barely glancing at him.

"Yeah. And it didn't work so.." she just shrugged , nothing more to say.

The reporter nodded and moved on, looking over to max instead .

"And how about you max? How are you feeling about having Cherrie as your new teammate this year? It's no secret that there's a bit of rocky history between you two..." he voiced the obvious .

Looking between the two of them curiously , wondering how a partnership between the two rivals could possibly work.

Max took a moment to think about his answer , knowing that telling him that 'this was the worse thing to ever happen to him' wouldn't help the tension at all.

He decided to be strategic about his reply , clearing his throat and sitting straighter in his seat again, keeping a calm facade .

"There is. We have always fought against each other on the track ..." he agreed bedore adding "but she is also a good driver and a former champion.." he couldn't help the little dig at his dethroning of her title .

Cherrie subtly rolling her eyes at him.

"But maybe we will be able to work together to keep others away. And bringing another win home to redbull. We are rivals second but a team first now. And I'm sure that we can remain professional and do what's best for the team." He simply answered. Doubting his own words even as he said them.

Cherrie nodded along in agreement .

"Yeah.. it's not me that you have to worry about."

She couldn't help but mutter, side eyeing him.

Max frowned at her "I'm not the problem either. Who-"

The man quickly butted in before they could start bickering about who the one with the issues was.

"And do you think that you two can put your differences aside and become reliable teammates? Do you trust max to have your back Cherrie?"

She just pursed her lips and picked up her water bottle with her and Charles on it, then she casually reached her arm out and knocked his redbull water bottle off the table.

Placing hers in its place instead.

All the while smiling innocently "if he looks out for me then I will do the same. If he doesn't give me the support then he will not receive it from me either." She told them simply, looking over at max pointedly , meaning it too.

She didn't want to have a teammate that was an enemy. But she wasn't going to trust him without any evidence of him wanting the same thing.

"Time will just have to tell I suppose.." was all she ended with when max didn't say anything else in return.

Merely clenching his jaw and glaring down at the picture of her and Charles on her bottle in front of him.

Reaching down to pick up his own bottle that only had his name written across it. Nothing personal at all.

It wasn't fair. Was all he could keep thinking.

Looking away from the picture of the the former teammates and best friends , swallowing the sudden ball he felt rising in his throat.

When was he going to get someone to support him like that?

Why couldn't he have what she had? What more did he have to do to prove himself?

The next two months we're spent with nothing but tension and avoidance . The two teammates not eager to get along as their history threatened to tear them apart before they even began.

Cherrie struggled to let max pass her when he was clearly able to push more than she was, and max just couldn't let her pass him without a fight either.

Both of the drivers ignoring their team radios instructions to let the other through, instead taking it upon themselves to see which one of them would pass the waving flag first.

Wheel to wheel and risking all their hard work for Petty rivalry , bickering between each other on the podium and refusing to give in and start again.

Things were tense and max was struggling to contain his overwhelming emotions as he crossed the line, pursing his lips beneath his helmet as he swallowed thickly .

She had won. Again.

Easily overtaking him on the last lap, he had fought and fought to take back his place and was unable to do so no matter how much he tried.

Pulling up in front of the p2 sign, he switched off his engine and just sat there for a moment. Silently watching as Cherrie pulled herself up out of the car and jumped into the arms of their celebrating team, all of them so happy and proud of her as she brought them more points again.

She had won every single race so far. Max always just half a second behind her. Just like when they were kids.

He wanted to scream.

Instead he blinked back the tears in his eyes , already knowing that his dad would have left the moment that Cherrie overtook him and it became clear who was going to win, again.

He was on his own.

He took in a deep breath and lifted the wheel, pulling himself out of the car and onto the ground.

Being immediately patted on the back by their team, he merely nodded his head absentmindedly , still watching Cherrie as she jumped up and down in excitement , laughing happily at yet another win.

He felt some of his anger fade as he watched her look around the crowd, clearly overwhelmed with the way the fans were all screaming her name. Even the Ferrari fans were clapping, proud of her.

He pulled off his gloves and looked away, ready to walk off to the go to the cooling room alone.

Only for his eyes to widened in shock as she looked over to him, waving her hand for her him to wait up as she jogged over to him while pulling off her helmet , max doing the same cautiously.

Wondering if they were about to have another argument about the way they had fought it out on the track yet again.

Only to be surprised and frozen in shock as he watched her lips tilt up and smile at him happily.

"That was a good race! That overtake you did on Hamilton was just -" she made a chefs kiss with her fingers . Too filled with adrenaline to see how he shocked he was at her suddenly talking to him.

Usually she just ignored him and ran over to Charles to celebrate. But not this time.

Max felt pressure in his chest, clearly his throat and looking away from her for a moment.

Flushing a little at the amazed look on her face as she rambled on about his manoeuvre , his shock only growing when she casually walked alongside him to the cooling room.

"Er thank you." He muttered not knowing what else to say to her sudden compliment. Wondering if he was dreaming.

He wiped his face down with a towel and took a sip of his drink, looking at the screens that replayed the moments between them in the track.

Watching a replay of the way she had gone wide at the corner and smoothly passed him without even coming close to him, he sighed and had to give it to her.

"You raced good.that was a smart move that you did out there. I didn't even notice you behind me , I just blinked and you passed me." He mumbled a little quietly . Not used to talking to her like this.

He was so used to them arguing and insulting eachother that he wasn't sure how to be normal around her.

It made him feel uneasy and he felt his stomach flip as she looked over at him with another easy smile, patting him on the back happily as she reached over him to grab the first place cap from the table and putting it on top of her sweaty head proudly.

"I know right?" She laughed a little, still out of breath as she tried to calm down.

Seeing their team motion for them to get to the podium , shaking hands with Lewis on the way who came third place behind max.

Max just nodded at him respectfully , jogging over to catch up with Cherrie so that they were side by side , he looked down at her quietly. Still not knowing how to take her sudden niceness towards him.

His words were hesitant as he muttered "are you- are you going to the party after this? We got 2 for 2 so I'm sure it'll be quite a big one ." He wasn't even sure why he was mentioning it to her.

He was reminded quickly of why he didn't usually even bother asking her if she was coming along as she shook her head with a smile, her eyes no longer looking at him , instead she was searching the crowd below them for someone else.

Max watched her whole face light up as she spotted Charles waving up at her with a proud smile on his face despite not getting podium himself, feeling his mood crash down again.

"I always celebrate with Charles . We're gonna get some dinner and then hang out with the rest of our friends at the hotel . Do you-" she was about to turn back to him and ask him if he wanted to come along but she was cut off before she could even try.

Max scoffed and moved away from her quickly , not looking at her as he shook his head .

"Typical. Putting your little boyfriend over your team. You're still Ferrari." He snapped at her bitterly , his anger overtaking him before he could even notice the way she had been about to invite him along with a hopeful smile.

Her face dropped, any niceness Quickly dissipating as she glared at him , shoving away the sting she felt at his reaction. Suddenly glad that she hadn't gotten the chance to invite him along If this was his reaction .

"Forget it max. I was just trying to be nice." She mutteeed , looking away from him with a upset frown.

Max felt the pressure in his chest almost crush him, unable to look at her anymore. Convinced that he would never get his chance.

"Well don't be. I don't need you to pretend to be nice to me. I'm not your friend. So fuck off." He snapped at her, walking away bedore he could see the hurt that crossed her face and the way she pursed her lips to stop them from trembling.

Fine. She thought to herself meeting Charles concerned eyes and plastering a fake smile onto her face. Giving him a thumbs up to assure him that she was okay.

Fuck him. She thought angrily . He didn't deserve her kindness anyways .

Unable to believe that for a moment she had actually wanted to be his friend .

When the Monaco race rolled around, there was a somber yet determined mood taking over Cherrie as she solemnly walked the track that had taken her fathers life so many years ago.

Everyone else knew to leave her alone to her silent grief, everybody but Charles who knew just what she was feeling as they both slowly came to a stop at the sharp corner , both glancing over to the gate that had fresh flowers tied to it. It was covered in them and covered in sweet messages that the fans had left too.

She sighed softly , leaning her head against Charles arm as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

Both of them quiet as he rested his head against the sides of hers , reflecting. His hand rubbing soothing circles over her back , waiting for her to speak patiently . Knowing that she would when she was ready.

Finally she spoke up, voice hardly above a whisper , familiar pain filling her voice .

"I miss him." She simply admitted , kneeling down to the gate and picking up one of the pictures that had been left beside some flowers.

Feeling herself choke up as she stared tearfully down at the picture of her father and herself at only eight years old, him holding her on his shoulders on the podium with the biggest of smiles on their faces.

The last race that he ever won.

She remembered the day she lost him like it was yesterday . Remembered the way her father had confidently told her that he was going to win their home race without any problems , taking her over to his car and letting her sit inside of it as he knelt down beside her proudly.

She had been eight years old and the light of her fathers life . His future .

He had gently stroked her hair away from her eyes and told her proudly .

"You're going to win this race too someday. In fact, you're going to win them all. Just like me." He had said it so matter of factly.

Believing in her so strongly that even being so young then, she believed his words too.

"I'm gonna be like you daddy. Do you think that we can win together? Then we can both be on the podium!" She had exclaimed excitedly , beaming up at him. Thrilled at the mere thought of being able to race alongside her own father someday.

He had always told her that he wouldn't retire until he was forced too. He was still in the prime of his life with no future of stopping.

Her dad had smiled fondly at her, lifting her out of the car and holding her in his arms.

He had kissed her still chubby cheeks and promised her.

"I'm going to be right there beside you. Every step of the way. Cause I love you . No matter what you do and what you achieve. You're always going to be my star okay?" He had said it with so much love and conviction , smiling down at her with care.

Cherrie had been passed over to his assistant as the crew surrounded him, watching him with wide eyes so full of amazement and awe as he pulled on his helmet and pulled himself inside the Ferrari .

He had gave her a thumbs up , clutching the wheel in his steady hands. Taking a deep breath and looking at her one last time .

"I love you daddy! You're going to win!" She had giggled at him unknowingly , waving her hands excitedly as she watched the car be pushed out the garage and over to the line.

Then she had been lead back with the crew and been seated on a chair in front of all the screens that showed the race happening, headphones put over her ears so she could hear everything. So fascinated by everything that surrounded her.

Then she had watched , at just eight years old as her fathers teammate tried to overtake him at the sharp corner where it was only big enough for one car to come through.

Their wheels had made contact and she had watched with tears in her eyes as her fathers car flew into the air , spinning and spinning bedore crashing into the barrier , immediately crushed into pieces as everything fell ontop of the remains of the Ferrari.

There had been shocked and horrified silence as she had listened to her fathers engineer repeatedly asked him if he was okay over the radio. Everyone watching with tears in there eyes as the minutes passed by and he didn't get out .

Her father didn't answer the radio , there was nothing but static silence as she had started to cry hysterically as she watched the medics pull out her fathers unmoving body, shaking their heads sorrowfully as they placed him on a stretcher and covered him with a sheet.

She never saw her father again.

He didn't win the race.

He didn't make it out of Monaco Alive.

He was gone. Just like that.

For years she has lived with his words of belief in her head, encouraging her to make him proud. To carry on her fathers legacy.

"I'm going to win this race. I'm going to win for him just like he told me I could." She breathed out to Charles determinedly . This meaning so much to her .

She had to win. For him.

Charles smiled at her softly , squeezing her close as he gently kissed the side of her head proudly .

"And you will. You can do anything you want to do Cherrie. I believe in you." He told her with a heartfelt smile, meaning every word.

Both of them unaware of the cameras filming them and her teammate watching them on the large screen with his chest tightening as he watched Cherrie wrapped her arms around cherries and kiss his cheeks, smiling up at him with softness written across her face as they whispered to each other .

To him it looked like a lovers embrace . Like two people that were so in love that they couldn't help but show the world .

He felt sick. He felt angry. He felt so frustrated that he turned away from the screen with a scowl, fingers tightening into fists as he stormed away to get ready for the race .

All sense of rationality leaving him as he saw red. All he could picture in his mind was Cherrie and Charles embracing each other , smiling at each other like they were each other's whole world.

He felt bitter determination fill him, anger fuelling his steps. He was going to win this race and prove her wrong.

He didn't care. He didn't need her as his teammate. He could win all on his own.

Her winning steak was over.

Cherrie could feel her heart racing as she flew down the straight , sparks flying from her wheels as the laps seemed to pass her by. Minutes feeling like mere seconds as she clutched onto her wheel tightly, blocking out every single distraction possible as she focused on keeping her place.

She was neck to with max, Lewis and charles not too far behind her as they all fought to pass each other, Cherrie managing to keep her corners tight as she clung to the back of her teammate in front of her.

Hearing her team come over her radio as the laps narrowed down quickly , only a few more left to go.

She felt adrenaline fill her as she heard their strategist speak, a certain pride filling his voice , everyone knowing that this was her moment to win.

This was her home race. This was the moment that she could make her father proud.

Everybody was holding their breaths and praying as they watched her close the gap between herself and max quickly , easily gaining on him.

"We've told max to let you past . He can defend and keep the Mercedes from your back. You can push- just two more laps-" he told her bedore pausing .

Cherrie heard multiple voices of her team, sounding confused and angry as they muttered between themselves . Sounding unhappy .

"What's going on? I can push! I am faster! I can do it!" She breathed out bedore inhaling sharply and only managing to avoid a Collasion between herself and max as he suddenly went wide, blocking her from getting through.

She felt anger light her up, panic also filling her too as her front wheel grew closer and closer to his.

"What is he doing?! I can win! I need to -" she gasped , heart pounding in her chest as she rapidly flickered her eyes between Max's car and the sharp corner that was quickly approaching them at the end of the track.

The same corner where her father had lost his life.

She felt her heart sink to her stomach as her engineer came over the radio, sounding both angry and upset as he informed her of what was happening.

"He's refusing to let you past Cherrie . He's ignoring team orders. I'm so sorry but you need to pull back to avoid-" he apologetic voice only enraged her further.

"No!no! No!" She shouted upset . Shaking her head and ignoring him telling her to pull back

"This is -" she choked in her words , both panic and rage filling her.

"I have to win this! My dad-" she couldn't even finish her pleading . Too upset to think straight .

She needed to win this race. She was so close - she just had to get passed max. She could do this without him.

If he wasn't going to let her past then she would make him.

She couldn't lose this race. She couldn't-

So with nothing but anger and grief filling her , she Ignored her frantic team over her radio and pressed full throttle as they came around the corner .

"Please max!" She shouted over the radio knowing that he couldn’t hear her. Expecting him to pull aside and let her pass.

He knew how much this meant to her. He knew what had happened here in monaco. He knew!

She could only watch in what felt like slow motion as max jolted his steering wheel . But instead of pulling away from her, he took the inside of the corner , giving her no time to pull away as their front wheels collided , sparks flying in the air.

Then she was flying.

Her car spinning off the track and turning around and around , clutching her fists to her chest as she gasped and cried out , her body rattling around from the sheer force as her car crashed into the exact gate that her father had crashed into all those years ago.

She saw the flower of memorials raining down onto of her car , petals falling all around her as the car finally came to a horrifying stop.

Then there was stillness .

She felt absolutely nothing but numbness as she glanced down at the picture that she had taped beside her wheel . The same picture that had been left with the flowers of her and her father , the last photo she had of them together on the podium.

She had taped it there for good luck.

As she looked at her fathers smiling face looking back at her, she swallowed.

Hearing the frantic calls of her team over the radio begging her to be okay.

The race hosts gasping in disbelief as they bellowed

"This is unbelievable! Serious de ja vu as Cherrie has been forced off the track by her own teammate! Crashing into the corner in the exact same spot where her fathers tragic accident took place! This hurts to watch- I hope she's okay!"

She inhaled deeply as she cut off her engine. Blankly looking at the photo of her dad one last time before looking away.

Exhaling shakily as she finally responded to their desperate calls.

"Are you okay Cherrie?! Please tell us that you're okay! Medics are on the way!"

She glanced over to the other crashed redbull that had spun off to the opposite side of the track, watching as max pulled himself out quickly.

His helmet covered head quickly turning in her direction , she swallowed , tears clouding her vision.

"I lost." Was all she could breath out in misery as the realisation that she was out of the one race that she needed to win.

She couldn't make her father proud.

She had lost.

Because of max.

There was a loud sigh of relief "that doesn't matter right now Cherrie. We are so happy that you're okay! Can you get out of the car?" He rushed out worriedly, everybody getting horrific flashbacks to her father dying in that very same spot.

Cherrie didn't answer.

Instead she just exhaled shakily, not even looking up as a shadow came over her.

Max heavy breathing heard as he knelt beside her car hurriedly , desperation filling his voice as he felt panic take over him.

"Are you okay?!" He rushed out in panic . Overcome with guilt as it finally crashed down on him what he had just done .

Swallowing down the lump in his throat as he looked at all the broken up flowers that surrounded her, before his eyes settled on the picture of her and her father taped beside her wheel.

Remorse making him feel sick to his stomach as he reached out his hands for her to grab so that he could pull her out.

"Cherrie please-"

She slapped his hands away violently and pulled herself out without his help. Unable to even look at him as anger finally took its rightful place.

"Don't fucking touch me." She spat at him.

Shoving at his shoulders roughly sending him a few steps back as he quickly lifted up his visor so he could see her, his own eyes pooling with tears as he saw the heartbreak in her eyes as she looked over to her crashed car.

"I'm so sorry. I am so fucking sorry! I wasn't thinking and I just - I-" he stammered to explain his stupid actions.

Not knowing how to admit that he had been so fucking upset and angry at never coming first. At never having anyone by his side.

That jealously had overcome him as soon as he saw her and Charles cosied up to each other on the track together when he had been just about to head out to find her and make sure that she was okay.

Wanting to be the one to comfort her. Wanting to be there for her . Wanting to apologise for the way he had been behaving because he was bitter and jealous and she had everything he wanted including herself .

But his anger had gotten the best of him and he was forced to face the consequences of his careless actions again.

Only this time it was worse, he didn't think that she would forgive him for this.

He didn't think that he could forgive himself either.

"I just wanted to make him proud." Was all she muttered , chewing on the inside of her cheek as she wrapped her arms around herself . Feeling like she was heading into a state of shock.

Max exhaled shakily , taking another step towards her and feeling his own heart crack as she took another away from him. Still not looking at him.

"You have - this isn't your fault. I shouldn't have - I didn't mean to! God Cherrie! I am so fucking sorry! You have to believe me-!" He was babbling away barely making any sense as he started to cry, the guilt nearly killing him.

Cherrie just shook her head and finally glanced his way, and the way she looked at him made him freeze in his spot as medics rushed over to them.

There was nothing but hatred in her eyes as she told him calmly , voice void of any emotion.

"I hate you." Before she was pulled away by the medics .

Leaving him to stand there with his heart at his feet, sobbing into his helmet as it all came crashing down around him.

She meant it. He felt it.

And he loved her.

Yet he had let his own insecurities and anger ruin it again.

She hated him.

But he hated himself more then.

Cherrie didn't look at him for a month straight .

She Didn't speak to him unless it was absolutely necessary.

Max had tried almost everyday to apologise to her , to speak to her to try and fix everything. The guilt making him unable to sleep at night, flashes of their crash replaying in his mind.

Everybody hated him for it. He knew they did.

He had almost killed her. He had crashed into her the same way her father had lost his life by his own teammate so long ago.

He couldn't forgive himself. He didn't want to.

He just wanted her to look at him again. Even if it was just to shout at him, to scream at him- to hit him and hurt him.

To do anything . As long as she looked at him again he didn't care what she did to him.

He finally got his chance to speak to her on his own birthday .

He was spending it alone, declining the persistent texts from his friends and from the team to go out and have some fun with them.

He told them that he had a headache . That he wasn't in the mood but to have a drink on him.

Then he shut off his phone and curled up in his bed , blankly staring up at the ceiling of the hotel room as he felt the numbness sink deep in his chest.

He was alone and it was all his fault .

Then as the sky's darkened and he finally managed to pull himself up in the bed , he heard rapid knocking at his door. It didn't stop even when he shouted at them to go away.

Then he froze as he heard her annoyed voice echo loudly through the door.

"Open the fucking door max before I kick it down!" She threatened him impatiently , balancing two bags between her arms with a huff.

Max hurried over to the door and quickly swung it open, looking down at her with wide eyes, shocked at the sight of her .

"Cherrie?" He gasped . Looking at her in amazement , wondering if he was dreaming .

She just rolled her eyes at him and pushed past him into the room. Huffing at him unhappily.

"What are you doing?" She demanded to know as she glanced around at his pity party. Seeing multiple empty plates and empty cans of red bull stacked up on the bedside tables.

His room was a mess. She took a glance back at his tried eyes and down turned lips . Dark circles underneath his upset eyes as he kept his gaze down to his sock clad feet as though he was too scared to even look at her.

She felt her own heart sink.

She had a lot of time to think about what had happened and what had been happening between them for a long time now.

Having sat down and talked to Charles about how she and max have always been pitted against each other their whole careers , the rivalry having been practically spoon fed to them the minute they arrived on track.

She had seen the way that max would silently walk away whenever she won a race, while she would have a team of people and friends gathering her in their arms to celebrate her win.

Max went home alone.

It was as though unless he won, his own father didn't want anything to do with him. And Cherrie had noticed the way that max tried so hard to prove his worth to him, the way he looked up to him and only wanted to make him proud.

Just like she did with her own father. Only her dad had believed in her and had been supportive , had been kind and gentle with his encouragement.

He had told her that if she wanted to be champion of the world , then she would be. As simple as that.

Max's dad had never told him such a thing and she only realised now with a sour taste in her mouth that perhaps his anger towards her over these years , was more so anger towards himself for not achieving what he thought he should . And anger at his dad for never being there unless he won.

She felt guilty as she thought back to all those times over the years when she had seen max looking over at her celebrating . The way he seemed to watch every thing she did with wonder , clearly wanting to do the same as she did.

Because despite his 'hatred' of her, she had seen the way that he had looked at her with pride when she won her first ever championship , with tears in her eyes as she pointed her finger to the sky, she had caught Max's eyes in the crowd below her and he had  smiled.

She wished that she would have spoken to him then. Wished that she wouldn't have let her own pettiness and stubbornness stop them from being friends.

He was hurting. She could see that now.

Perhaps it was never just as simple as on track rivalry.

Because if max truly hated her and wanted her gone, then why did he look so heartbroken? Why did he look so desperate and afraid when he had rushed over to her crashed car after spinning her off the track?

Max fiddled with his fingers nervously , slowly walking over to his bed and taking a seat at the end of the mattress.

"What do you mean?" He murmured. Still shocked that she was there, in his room, willingly speaking to him.

Glancing up to see her stood in front of him with a frown, worry written across her face as she carefully placed the bags in her hands down onto the floor instead .

"It's your birthday." She stated the obvious "why aren't you celebrating?"

Max looked at her like she was insane , scoffing. "I'm not really in the mood to have fun Cherrie. I almost killed you a few weeks ago. Or have you forgotten?" He snapped at her without meaning to, so overcome with guilt and anger at himself that he could barely think straight .

Cherrie didn't react other than a small raising of her brow , making him look away from her when she just continued to look at him , unimpressed with him snapping at her.

"I haven't forgotten." She finally said after a long, tense silence . Before letting out a long sigh and kneeling down in front of him on the soft carpet .

Max looked at her with wide eyes "what are you doing?!" He exclaimed.

Warily eyeing her kneeling between his legs and wondering if he had accidentally taken some drug instead of his vitamins before she arrived.

She just rolled her eyes at him and pulled one of the bags over to her.

"It's your birthday." She repeated casually "and I got you a present." She then proceeded to pull out a familiar helmet for him to see.

Max frowned, looking between the colourful helmet that she had worn when she had crashed. When he had made her crash and almost killed her, and back down to her in disbelief .

His stomach dropping in unease "is this a joke? Cause it's not funny Cherrie. I know that I fucked up, I don't need a painful reminder of how much-"

Cherrie didn't let him finish his upset rant. Instead she just placed the helmet in his lap and nodded down to it calmly .

"Look inside it." She simply instructed him, watching his face carefully .

He gave her one last look before carefully holding her helmet , his fingers tracing over the pretty design that hardly had a dent despite the awful impact it had taken.

Then he turned the helmet over and lifted the visor, his fingers freezing as he read the words that were written messily inside of it. Swallowing audibly as he read the small words of her handwriting over and over again.

Believe in yourself like I believe in you. It read.

He exhaled shakily and glanced up at her unsurely , his lips parting yet not knowing what to say.

Cherrie just smiled a little and told him "it's what my dad always told me when I was younger . To believe in myself like he believed in me. How can you reach for the stars if there's no one to help you there? Success is nothing but a empty room if there's no one there to share it with." Her voice was quiet and reflective.

Having spent the last few weeks really thinking about how wrong she had been. How differently she wished that she had acted .

Max just looked at her silently , his heart racing in his chest as he watched her face soften towards him.

She had never looked at him like that before. No matter how many times he had wished for her to, he had only ever seen her smile at Charles like that.

He cleared his throat "why- why are you giving me this? What-" what does it mean? Went unsaid.

Luckily Cherrie understood and simply shrugged her shoulders , sighing .

"Well that helmet saved my life . And those words did too. I thought that it's only right for you to have it. And maybe - maybe it can help you to? I don't know - it's stupid-" it was her time to be unsure as she nervously glanced away from him.

Not knowing how to say that she was sorry. For everything .

Simply saying it didn't seem like enough .

Max quickly shook his head "no! No! It's not stupid- it's really - it's really thoughtful actually . I-" he inhaled shakily , clutching onto the helmet tightly with trembling fingers .

"I wish that I had words like that to carry around with me. Maybe I would have been less of an asshole." He muttered still angry with himself for all that he had done.

Cherrie reached up and grabbed one of his hands in her own making him glance back down at her in shock, his eyes widening as she gently squeezed the palm of his hand .

Smiling up at him sheepishly "well, I know it's not- it probably doesn't mean anything coming from me but-" she laughed a little nervously "maybe they can be your words too?"

Max felt like he couldn't breath. His eyes locked down to her hand in his with building hope.

"What do you mean? I almost killed you cherrie! I was so stupid and-"

She shook her head at him gently "I forgive you max. I know that it wasn't on purpose and I know that you regret it. I should have let you apologise because honestly-" she inhaled deeply , gathering her own courage.

"I'm sorry too." She told him honestly .

He frowned at her, confused . "What? What are you sorry for? You have every right to hate me after everything I've done!" His voice rose incredulously, his flickering between her own desperately, heart pounding in his chest.

Cherrie just squeezed his hand again, swallowing thickly as she saw the guilt and self hatred written across his face .

"No. I don't hate you max." She told him firmly needing him to know how she really felt.

"And I'm sorry for never giving you a chance. You- I think I may have taken things wrongly. Ya know like that time when we were sixteen and you came over to me and said 'you take the corners like a devil'" she recalled that particular memory with a wince.

Max also grimacing as he remembered how he had gathered all of his courage just to go over to her after another race between them, having wanted to be her friend.

Only it had all gone to absolute shit when he blurted out that she was a devil instead.

"I meant that as a compliment. That you were really fast and fearless on the corners.." he mumbled , embarrassed by how he just couldn't hold his tongue around her.

He had been accidentally insulting her since day one , when really all he wanted to do was tell her how amazing he thought she was.

How much he wanted to be like her , learn from her...

Instead he had become her enemy Instead. Talk about putting his foot in his mouth...

Cherrie groaned in misery , letting go of his hand so that she could cover her face in embarrassment at how hot headed she had always been.

This was her fault too. If she had just given him a chance ...

"God! I just thought you were saying that I drove dangerously or something! I'm sorry! I just- we were also put against each other and everyone always expected us to be rivals and.. it's always between just us.." she trailed off , feeling terrible for what could have been.

So influenced by others and the need for success that she had forgotten to listen to herself and what she knew best.

Max laughed a little , carefully setting aside the helmet on the bed. He planned to put it in his front room with the other two helmets he had of hers.

He told her so with a small , sheepish grin. "You know that I still have two of your helmets. I'm gonna put this one right in the middle of them."

Cherrie paused , eyeing him in confusion . "Two of them?" She couldn't remember ever giving him two.

Max nodded his head, chuckling as he scratched the side of his neck nervously.

"Yeah. The first one was when we swapped helmets when we were eighteen... well, we were forced to. You practically threw it at me." He reminded her in amusement . It was a pink helmet with flowers all over it and her name written across it in big letters.

Cherrie went pink like the helmet was. Grimacing guilty as the memory came back to her.

It was a rare race where he had beaten her and she hadn't been very happy at all. He had handed her his helmet with a smile, telling her congratulations and that it was a good race.

Cherrie had thought he was mocking her.

So she had told him to fuck off and then proceeded to practically throw her helmet at him before childishly stomping off to sulk.

She groaned again "oh god. Max I'm so sorry-"

He just waved off her guilt with a laugh, the pressure slowly lifting from his chest piece by piece as he looked down at her.

Feeling his heart lighten at the guilty little smile on her pretty face , her eyes pleading for him to forgive her for being such a hot headed woman. Unable to believe that perhaps everything had just been a series of misunderstandings between them all along .

"No, no. It's okay." He laughed "honestly maybe I should be saying sorry to you because I also.." he hesitated to admit it, his cheeks flushing red .

Cherrie eyed him warily "oh god what did you do?" The amused tone of her voice made him admit it.

"I stole your helmet in silverstone. I saw Charles give you his and we had both been on the podium together and I wanted to be the one to swap helmets with you but-" he rushed out covering his bright red face with his hands. Muffling his words.

Cherrie gasped out a laugh. Leaning forward on her knees and placed her hands on his thighs as she pushed herself up, slapping at his arm in amusement .

"Max! I can't believe it was you! I was so confused when I turned around and my helmet was gone! Oh my god!" She couldn't stop giggling at him.

Max slowly uncovered his face and gazed down at her pretty smile , her eyes crinkled at the corners as she laughed at him. Feeling his heart flutter at the way he had done that, he had made her laugh. Nobody else. Him.

He chuckled "you're not mad?" His breathed out in relief . Still Scanning her still smiling face in awe.

She was so beautiful that he found it hard to breathe. He always had done. She made him do and say stupid things. It was ridiculous the way he couldn't just behave normally around her . To nervous to think straight . She made him into a giant mess. Cherrie just shook her head at him, sighing loudly as she looked down at his flustered face softly.

"No max I'm not mad. I just wish you would have talked to me . All this time I've wasted being angry at you and -" she struggled to even explain what she was feeling . Upset with herself for always thinking the worse of him.

He gently took ahold of her arms and made her look at him again, smiling softly at her.

"There was times I deserved it though. I did deliberately wind you up and push you to snap back at me ." He admitted quietly , gently stroking the soft skin of her arms .

She frowned "why though? Why pick at me like that when you know how easy I snap back?" She asked him curiously .

Max pursed his lips , avoiding her eyes for a moment as his shoulders sagged in defeat. He couldn't keep lying to himself or to Cherrie any longer.

If he had been honest right from the start then maybe none of this drama would have ever taken place . Maybe things would have been easier. Maybe he wouldn't have had to do this alone.

"Because that was the only way I could get your attention. It's was stupid and childish. I just wanted you to see me because-" he looked at her , ashamed.

"Because I've always seen you. I have- you've always been somebody that I've looked up to and wanted to be like. You've always achieved everything first , always beat me and I was jealous." He admitted to her quietly .

"I wanted to be your friend when we were kids . But I could never say the right thing. I didn't know how to get you to like me." He muttered, his hands sliding down her arms to grab at her hands instead , fiddling with her fingers anxiously.

Cherrie just interlaced their fingers and listened to him quietly . Her face open and soft .

He inhaled deeply and continued on while he still had the courage to look her in her eyes and tell her the truth.

"And then we grew older and I still wanted to be you but I wanted to be with you even more so. But then you became so close with Charles and I got even more jealous because that was all I wanted. I don't even know how .. or when it happened." He sighed quietly . His eyes filling with tears again.

He shook his head at himself , sniffling. "I just - one day I looked at you and all I saw was who I wanted to be. And I saw you smile at Charles and i just wanted you to look at me like that- I wanted you to see me-" his voice broke before he could even finish.

Cherrie leaned forward and took him in her arms, cradling his head into her neck as she tangled her hand into his hair, her other hand stroking circles into his back as he started to cry. Clutching onto her tightly , she felt her eyes own pool with tears as he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tight, like he was afraid to let go in case she ran away.

"Shhh max. It's okay. It's okay- I did see you . I have always seen you!" She rushed to tell him , pulling back enough so that she could take ahold of his cheeks on her hands, caressing his face gently.

His eyes searching her desperately, clutching onto her waist with his hands .

"I have always thought of you max. You drove me crazy! And every time I walked into a room the first person I looked for has always been you. Even when we were fighting- even when we were at each other's throat- I always looked for you-"

He cried in relief , heart feeling like it was trying to beat right out of his chest. Overwhelmed with his feelings that he had tried for so long to push away.

"Oh my god. You feel it too?" He breathed out in disbelief .

Letting out a breathless laugh, letting go of her waist and clutching at her beautiful face instead , his thumbs quickly wiping away the tears that pooled between her lashes .

Both of them smiling in disbelief , in relief and joy.

She let out a shocked laugh "I do! I just- I thought you hated me and -"

Max's eyes were wild , shaking his head rapidly in denial.

"No. No! Never hated you! Never!" He pushed her hair behind her ears , grinning at her in awe.

Then he breathed out and whispered "I love you. I'm in love with you. I love you so fucking much-"

Cherrie couldn't believe it. Laughing breathlessly, she just shook her head in disbelief at how stupid the both of them had been.

All this time ...Then she surged forward and kissed him like she should have been kissing him all this time.

No more wasting time. She promised herself silently as she felt him moan against her mouth in relief , his hands clutching at her like he was afraid to let go.

The kiss was messy and frantic . Teeth clashing and tongues exploring each other's mouths as she pushed him onto his back on the bed, her helmet right beside them proudly .

“I love you max. Fuck.." she breathed out giggling as she pulled away enough to kiss all over his face, beaming down at him in disbelief .

Similar emotions written across his face as he gaped up at her , heart pounding in his chest. She looked at the words written on the helmet and smiled , shaking her head.

"And I'm so proud of you. Every win- I'm gonna be there. Because I love you and I believe in you. Because we're- we're teammates now remember? We have each other's back. I'm never gonna not be there for you again okay?" She promised him seriously , kissing him again.

Max choked on a cry, laughing and crying at the same time as he clutched her body to him . Looking up at her like she was his god.

That was all he had ever wanted to hear . It was all he had ever dreamed of.

She loved him. And she was proud of him. Finally , somebody was proud of him.

Max's smile took over his whole face , their teeth knocking together as they both giggled into the kiss . Happiness filling their hearts, their heads and their lungs as they both gasped for breath.

"And I'm gonna be there for you too Cherrie. Because I love you and I'm gonna continue loving you for as long as you let me. You're my girl." He told her , overcome with love.

Cherrie just smiled and kissed him again.

"you're gonna be loving me a long time then. Because I want you forever." She whispered against his lips.

Max just sighed contently, pulling away to gaze into her eyes and seeing his future there.

"I'm gonna love you in every life. I'm gonna be your best friend and your lover too ." He promised her.

He was going to make sure that they never made the same mistakes again. All those years arguing. All the miscommunication and jealously ... he was going to spend the rest of his life making it up to her.

She was going to win the race but he was going to win her trust , and her heart.

'Believe in yourself like I believe in you'

Her father always had been right .

He was never going to doubt himself again. He had her love and that was more than enough for him.

[hannahssimblr]

That evening after I drive home the house is a battlefield. As soon as I let myself into the hallway the sounds of some escalating conflict are sweeping through from the kitchen, but it doesn’t surprise me. It’s been this way for months. I just toss my car keys onto the table and head upstairs. 

“Think about the way you make me live!” My mother shrieks as I shuffle through my desk drawer to retrieve my iPod and the noise cancelling headphones I use for my laptop. My dad says something in response, his rumbling tones infuriatingly calm, unfazed. He always speaks to her with such a patronising air of reasonableness, so honestly it’s no wonder she’s going insane.

“Ivy?” I knock on her bedroom door, “I’m back. Can I come in?”

Her voice is quiet within, “Yeah.”

“Hey, what’s up?” The noise from downstairs is louder I come inside, but Ivy’s room is right above the kitchen. I know she has been listening. She is perched on her bed kneading a corner of her blanket in her little hands, body tense and static like a startled cat. 

Mom raises her voice even further in shocked outrage, “What are you saying? Do you regret our children?”

“I just bought a cool new album,” I say, “do you want to hear it?”

“What’s it called?”

“Contra. You remember Vampire Weekend, right?”

“Um...”

“You liked their last album.”

“Did I?”

“Here,” I climb to my knees in front of her and plop the headphones onto her head. They’re big on her and want to slip down towards her jaw until i carefully adjust them while she watches me with interest. Everything I do is interesting to Ivy, even my thumb circling the dial on my iPod as I navigate to the first song on the album. I grin into her face, “can you hear me?”

She nods, so I crank it up, “how about now?”

She gasps, “It’s so loud! I can’t hear you!” 

“Good,” and I sit right by her, on the floor by her bed while she lays back and tries to hum along to songs she's never heard before. She does it in mom's car every time the radio comes on, which is apparently irritating, but I don't think so. She's a musical kid who is just trying to work something out in her head.

As I listen to her weird little melodies I doodle with a ballpoint pen I found in the pocket of my jacket. I've flipped to the back page of one of her school copy books, and I know she doesn’t mind, she can bring them into school and tell her classmates that she did them if she likes. 

Every now and again pieces of the argument are clear enough to understand, mostly mom’s side. “You do nothing around here, what are you talking about?” She screams, “You just sit in your office all night and-” some muffled aggression. Then at one point she brings up Fergal from work, which is a poor choice, because it really sets dad off. I know this because I finally hear a shocked “how dare you!” from him, which seems fair, actually. 

Fergal from work is her boyfriend. Or was, maybe, I don’t ask. All I know is that Fergal from work exists and that my mother was having an affair with him for, like, two years or something. I googled him when I first started hearing his name thrown around like daggers through the rooms of this house, and he’s pretty much how you might imagine a Fergal. He’s older, weedier and less good looking than my father, with hair so fine and light that his eyebrows are hardly visible and a hairline like the tide has gone out on it, but his smile is sort of kind. His LinkedIn picture has him smiling broadly and the lines on his face and around his eyes suggest that he’s spent a good chunk of his life doing just that. Smiling. Aside from likely being nice, he’s probably ten times more interesting than Christopher too, which has to be the real selling point. I bet that listens to her when she talks to him and makes her laugh, if she’s still capable of that, so I can’t really be angry with her about Fergal. I might have done the same thing as she did if I ever felt so trapped.  

I must be listening too obviously because Ivy slips the headphones off. “What are they saying?”

“Stupid shit, Ives, it’s not interesting.”

She pauses and says in a very small voice, “Do you think they’ll get a divorce?”

I turn to her, “They might. But I don’t think it’d be such a bad idea. Do you?”

She shrugs. 

“At least if they divorced they’d stop fighting.” At least eventually.

“They fight a lot,” she whispers, “I hate it.”

“Yeah, same.”

“What will happen to us? What if neither of them wants us?”

This surprises a laugh right out of me, “It's not like they'll have a choice. Did you think we’d get thrown into an orphanage or something?”

“Maybe.”

“I think you’ve been reading too many of those Jacqueline Wilson books about the kids from broken homes. Next time we go to the library we’ll get you something a bit less sad and tragic, do you think?”

She shrugs, but I'll get her into Goosebumps yet. I am determined.

“You want to know what I think?”

 A nod.

“I think them being divorced would actually be fine, because at least they wouldn’t be doing this all the time,” I tilt my head toward the floor, shaking with the reverberation of the slamming patio door, “And also we probably wouldn’t have to be around dad half as often.”

Ivy looks conflicted, “Well I don’t not want a dad.”

I almost tell her that Christopher isn’t that interested in his role as her father and the way that he interacts, or more accurately fails to interact with her, is not normal, even if it’s what she’s used to, and that I bet Fergal would be a better dad, but I figure it’s probably not the wisest to mention any of that. 

“He’ll still always be your dad, just like how mom will always be your mom and I’ll always be your brother, you know? No matter what happens or how things change. You're made from him, you know? That doesn't just go away.”

“I don’t want change.”

“Everything changes, all of the time.”

“I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to. Things move on whether you like it or not, and you have to accept it.”

Her eyes fill with tears, “I don’t want you to move away either.”

“No, c’mon,” I scramble onto her bed and pull her into my chest, “I know, but I can’t stay here forever, I’m an adult now, I’m going to have to go, but it’s not right away…” 

“Yes, but soon.”

I hesitate, “Oh, Ivy, it’s, like-”

“And then it’ll be just me, and everything will be different,” as tears overflow I understand that it’s not just about this, it’s about everything, all of the chaos and the disruption that I cannot fix. I just shush her and rock her side to side. It’s hard for her, but I refuse to lie to her about what might happen. 

“I need to move away, I feel like I don’t have another option.”

“But why?”

“I- I think you’ll get it when you’re older, maybe. It's just very important to me.”

“I won’t see you anymore.”

“Yes you will, maybe not as much, but you’ll get used to it really quickly. And imagine if I went to college somewhere really exciting, you could come and see me and we could do all kinds of fun stuff, yeah? Like if I’m in Paris, imagine, I could take you to Disneyland.”

She sniffles, “Paris?”

“Yeah, you loved Paris a couple of years ago, right?”

She nods and rubs her eyes, “Could we try and go up the Eiffel Tower again?”

“Duh, and you’d be old enough not to be so scared.”

“Maybe-” a thick swallow “maybe even your new house would have a balcony and we could see it from there.”

“Oh, for sure, and we’d get pastries from the bakery downstairs in the mornings, they'd just so happen to be best ones ever, and there’d be a man playing the accordion outside- no, everywhere, like, no matter where we go, he’s there with his swirly little French Guy moustache...”

She giggles, “Is he following us around?”

“Oh, yeah, a total stalker, actually. Maybe we’d have to call the French police on him.” 

We both laugh as she dries her face with her sleeves. Coming up with all the very French things we would do in Paris, every detail down to the layout of my beautiful Haussmann style apartment overlooking the Seine is nice.

I'm not stupid, of course, I know perfectly well that the reality of a move to Paris would involve me and Michelle stuffed into a Chambre de Bonne tiny enough to touch both walls at the same time, tripping over half baked art projects and every possession we own, our pent up frustration causing us to have screaming matches that would wake up the whole arrondissement, but it’s nice to be an idealist for a minute or two. 

“Where else could you live?” she asks me once we’ve exhausted all of the parisian stereotypes and run out of hypotheticals. 

“Hmm, how about Amsterdam?”

“Oh! Anne Frank lived there, we read the book at school last year.”

I tell her that yes, if I lived there I’d take her to see the house with that stairway hidden behind the bookcase, and then we would... cycle around the place and annoy everyone because she’s so unsteady on her bike. I make up a story about how she keeps swerving out of her lane and getting in everybody's way, eventually causing a giant bike pile up along the canal like some sort of rat king of Dutch cyclists.

“Where else!”

“Um, Berlin...” and I purse my lips and try to think of things to do in Berlin that are appropriate for a nine year old, but for some reason all I can think of is a surly line of leather clad druggies in front of a techno club. “They like going to nightclubs, I guess…”

“I can go to a nightclub.”

“Yeah, as if! You’d hate it, it’s just loud music and everyone bumping into you. Hey, you know there’s one nightclub in Berlin that’s so exclusive that they only let the coolest people in Europe inside? You have to wait in line for hours and if they think you’re even a little bit uncool then they send you home.”

Her eyes get wide, “Really? Hm. I think I could get in.”

The idea of Ivy being let into Berghain makes me guffaw, “Oh, you think so, do you?”

“Yeah I’m cool enough!”

“No you aren’t.”

“I am,” she leaps up and pretends to strangle me while I hold her at arm's length, “there’s no such thing as a cool nine year old.”

“There’s no such thing as a cool eighteen year old either.”

“Uh! There is, you're looking at one. I would get into that club, no doubt.”

“No you wouldn’t, they wouldn’t even let you in the line.”

“Nah, they’d beg me to come in because I’d make it cooler.”

“They’d see you coming and pretend to be closed.”

As we laugh and make stupid, childish jokes at one another I’m aware of an acceptance I feel with her that I don’t around other people. I’m never really so blatantly stupid and goofy in public, but Ivy, who has become my favourite person in the world, no matter what I do or say it’s funny, and she never thinks I’m weird, at least not in a bad way. I can fully let my guard down. Even though the fighting has stopped I don't really want to leave, but the moon has risen now, and the grasshoppers are chirping. Ivy has to sleep.

I gather up my headphones and iPod and get up, despite her protests and attempts to come up with more funny things we might do as we galivant through fictional Europe.

“You're stalling,” I say, “you know well you have to go to sleep now.”

“No, no! Just one more thing!”

“Nope! Sorry! And don’t forget to brush your teeth, or I’ll tell dad.”

She pulls her ugliest face. She knows I’d never, but it’s funny, like telling a christian kid that Satan is watching.

I shut the door very gently. It's not particularly late, maybe ten, but the house is morgue quiet, almost eerie, like the aftermath of a hurricane. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[jackhues]

bad reaction pt. 2 - mat barzal (au #1)

part one has been dubbed the 'bad reaction mat fic', so here's part two loll, also there's two ways i want this to go, so they're going to be aus of each other. here's the first one!

gif not mine!

mat was having an off-week.

that's what the whispers around him said. he was having a bad few days, and wasn't playing up to his usual standards.

nothing was wrong. it was just an off-time for him.

but mat knew it was deeper than that.

the moment you told him you were pregnant, his brain had shut off. the two of you had a silent, but mutual agreement, of having no kids. at least not until you had your lives figured out — whether you were going to spend it together or what.

when he heard you two were having a baby, he got mad. mad at you because out of all the girlfriends and flings he'd had, you were the last one he expected to baby-trap him.

but when he came home, late that night and for some reason completely sober, you were already gone.

the clothes from the dresser, the hair ties you left lying around despite mat's complaints, the jacket that had been sprawled on the back of mat's chair for a month now — every trace of you was gone.

and that's when he realized you weren't baby-trapping him.

that the pregnancy wasn't something you'd wanted, but something that had just happened.

that's when he realized he'd let you go.

"oh fuck," he muttered, rummaging through the drawers before finding his phone. in a rush, he'd left it at home.

he dialed your number, holding his breath and it reached voicemail. he tried again and again, even requesting your location, but it was radio silence on your end.

he dialed your younger brother, sighing in relief when he picked up the phone. his relief was short-lived as your younger brother didn't sound happy with him.

"the hell do you want?" he growled. "stop calling y/n, she doesn't want to talk to you."

"look, i fucked up, okay?" mat admitted. "i know that. i messed up, and i — i just want to explain to her. please. if she — if she wants nothing to do with me afterwards... i get it. i just want to talk to her. please."

maybe it was the desperation in his voice, but your younger brother sighed. "she's at my house. you have five minutes to speak with her, or until she kicks you out."

mat thanked him, running out the door and to your younger brother's apartment. when he finally reached, he knocked, leg bouncing as he wanted nothing more than to talk to you, to see you.

"she's in the room," your younger brother said, opening the door. "you have five minutes, and don't you dare make her cry."

mat gulped, rushing to the room. the door was open, and you were sitting against the bed, watching the princess diaries on the projector.

he winced. if you were watching the movie on the projector — it was bad.

"y/n?" he called out, voice cracking slightly.

your eyes widened as they met his, a part of you not believing your brother when he was mat wanted to talk to you.

"can i — can i explain myself?" he asked quietly.

you paused the movie, motioning for him to come in. "you can sit there."

he sat on the chair, trying to convey how guilty he was.

"i'm so sorry," he told you. "i — i was scared because this — what we have — it was realest thing i'd had in a long time. and i was scared that you were going to baby-trap me, and i'd fallen for it. i shouldn't have reacted they way i did. i should've listened to you and talked to you, and helped you through this. i want to be there for you. i'm here for you now. as long as you let me."

you were silent, digesting his words.

a part of you wanted to be mad at him, but you understood where his fear came from. he was a professional athlete, of course that would be one of his first thoughts.

you'd had over a week to come to terms with the pregnancy, while mat had barely had a day. you didn't blame him for his reaction, no matter how much you'd hated it.

"come here," you patted the bed next to you, allowing mat to sit. "i don't blame you for your reaction. honestly, i should've spoken with you earlier, and we could've talked it out together. but that's what we're doing now. we're communicating, and we're okay."

hearing that sentence come out of your mouth, mat tried not to cry.

he pulled you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead. whether you kept the baby or not, he was going to be there for you from now on.

he swore it.

-

tags: @woodruff-edwards , @austinbutlerscaresme ,  @svechnikovvv ,  @hockeyboysarehot , @emptyflowerpots ,  @mysticaldonkey , @lam-ila ,  @babydollmarauders , @starjoyyy  ,  @kjohnson-91 , @gavinbrindley, @hischierdevils , @jackhughesily  , @panarin10 ,  @equallyshaw ,   @power2myheart  ,  @lynnismypseudonym , @beccaiscold , @akengii , @hischierhaze, @cinnamonpancakes , @mitchymainer , @lifeofpriya ,  @marshmallow-babe, @hughesx3 ,  @emsully2002  ,  @starsandhughes , @huggy-hischier73 ,  @doglady5678 , @thatoneblog , @exonct07 @hughesmedicine , @qwanelledingele , @mindless-rock , @ireadthensuetheauthors , @huggy-hischier94, @slaythehousedownboots , @diary-of-jj , @youunravelme

[jinlias]

a/n: how could i post a month of blurbs and no angst? sike u thought bitch.

you can tell the exact moment she breaks. you’ve been trying to tell her you’ve noticed it all, but you always missed her.

“hey, wheres mina?” the last group arrives at the dorm, but instead of four, it’s only sana, jihyo and momo.

“practicing” momo responds absentmindedly, her mind completely on the cold noodles they picked up on the way.

“again?” jihyo shares your concern, both your eyes speaking for themselves. she almost stops eating to come with you, but you reassure her it’s better you go alone.

if this wasn’t your partner’s breaking point, it was yours.

you couldn’t believe you were, but in your head, silently, you were weighing out whether this or her anxiety break had been worse.

from a while back, you noticed mina had been spending way too much time practicing than normal, dancing, singing, all of the above. for some reason, her diet was much stricter than yours or the others and her scheduled was way more packed all of the sudden.

come to think of it, you never heard her say no anymore.

“mina, elle wants you for their july-“ “yes”

“after the shoot, do you think you can take a couple of picture at the grand opening-“ “sure”

“do you have any free time slots tomorrow” “i’ll make the time”

but she wasn’t enthusiastic about it either. and trust, the sex was there and so were the loving kisses and whispers, it’s just, her eyes, mina isn’t there anymore.

“okay. i hear you” jihyo rubbed your back up and down as she listened the first time. you felt so bad you had woken her up in the middle of the night to complain, but more than your leader she was your best friend, if anything she could possibly get through mina. “not me, i can try, but there’s no way she’ll hear me out before you”

“she’s killing herself” jihyo wipes your tears and takes a deep breath to hold some of her own.

“i know it’s hard to think about but y/n- i need you to break her-” the entire time the words came from her mouth, she can see the denial in your eyes and how the pout on your lips deepened.

that was then, now, you’re angry.

“oh, this again. awesome, i’m kind of rusty myself” you drop your gym bag on the floor and begin to tie your hair as you get in position.

you can’t lie and say you willingly got out of bed at almost ten at night to practice. you willingly got out of bed this late because of her. one more night feeling the bed deepen with her body at some much late hour than you tried going to sleep was going to drive you off a cliff.

“y/n? what are you doing here baby?” your eyes press shut and you turn your head to the side when she pauses the music, arms crossed as a tactic to not let her in this time.

“what are you doing here mina?” you never did what jihyo asked, it hurt you to hurt her, but now you had to, because you love her, and you want her to love herself again too.

“i’m.. rehearsing” she replies as if it were obvious.

“i can see that, but why? do you know what time it is?”

“no?”

“it’s late, if we don’t go home we’re going to have trouble waking up tomorrow” her chest stings at all the ‘we’s, and you can see her now usual facade start to lessen. she’s heard you before, she just never listened.

“go home. i’ll be there soon” she tries to shake all the red blaring sirens telling her she’s tired, that you’re right and that she should go home with you, try to sleep more than four hours tonight.

“i’m not going anywhere without you mina” your hands fall at your sides and you begin to walk towards her, stopping only a couple of steps apart. “you can’t tell me you don’t know what you’re doing”

“i’m just practicing babe, i’ll be there soon. i promise”

“you’ve broken a lot of promises lately, you know that right?” you watch her swallow, turn around to fidget with something at the radio station instead of looking at you. “if you know exactly what i’m talking about, why tip toe?”

“i don’t know y/n” her voice raises higher than the usual whisper, and you don’t know whether to be upset at her or put yourself in her shoes. “it’s working. i’ll be home soon”

“what’s working?”

“i said-“

“yeah, you said you’ll be home soon. but you’ve told me that the last three nights and it wasn’t true. what’s working?”

“y/n- i-“

“mina, this is not working. nothing is working. im worried about you all the time and you’re not even letting me in. either we go home and talk about proper help or i’ll be joining you.”

“baby. it doesn’t work like that” she’s scared, you can see that much now, she’s finally allowing herself to feel rather than bottle it up and swallow it down with her usual work ethic.

“all these late practices, the crazy diets. cramped schedule? count me in, i’ll do it all if that’s what it takes for you to stop” she looks like she’s been caught, biting her lips and looking down in shame. and you let yourself calm down, soften even as you walk towards her, closer until you’re asking for her hands. “i’m worried mina. let me help you”

“you don’t understand” a single tear falls on your hands, now clasped together with hers as she stares at them.

“then tell me. i’ll listen. if you’re scared, i’m here. mina. i love you, i’m done letting you go through this alone” you squeeze her hands, hoping for some sort of emotion, thankfully she squeezes yours back.

“i don’t want the girls to know” she sniffles, watching you nod and swallow a lump in your throat, hoping no tears came out, because you’ve cried enough. you needed to be there like mina had been for you when you needed, loving you through all your hardships.

[where-dreamers-go]

"Summer Dreams And Warm Emotions" Dick Grayson x Reader

(A/N: Welcome to Part 6 for the soulmate au series for 60s Robin! Just in time for the middle of summer. This goes through the pair’s summer vacation while Reader is staying at the beach outside of Gotham City. These two have a lot on their minds while away from school and each other. They’re teenagers, so I wonder what’s on their mind? Or who?

Honestly, I’ve had notes ready, but started writing after I got back into reading books for fun.

Warnings: Some angst. Reader has social anxiety? Fluff. Use of (Y/N). Using the older name of: starfish instead of sea star.(If I left it in there.) Food selection made.

Word Count: 10,127 words)

<- Previous

~~~

Salty air of an early afternoon breeze welcomed you through an open window, cleansing the bedroom you were to share with your good friend Charlotte.

What a start of summer vacation! No dark cloud in the sky nor unsavory sights in the house.

I’d prefer my bed, but this isn’t bad at all.

A long way from Gotham City, you were given clarity and space from others’ loud opinions. Even if those with the loudest preferences traveled with you; the change in scenery preoccupied their thoughts.

Two months of sand, fun, sleep, an no street lights shining in at night, you thought happily as you unpacked your plush Sir Hopps. You had debated with yourself whether or not to bring your small blue and trusted companion along for the trip. There remained a sliver of guilt at considering leaving without him.

Your plush was dear to you. Why stop bringing Sir Hopps along when you had always done so?

The strange duality of change and sameness followed you from Gotham City. An air of familiarity with a scheduled vacation carried spots of reminders of what you left behind. Who you left in the city, with scarcely a well-worded farewell, to ponder on growing relations.

It’s like nothing happened, but . . . I know who’s emotions I feel every day now.

The thoughts, knowledge of your soulmate, made you smile unabashedly. You truly happy to know him. Grateful even. Dick Grayson was a friend you held dear to your heart; a hidden gem you were surprised to find.

Parting from him still played in your mind since you left his tight embrace.

It’s almost like a strange dream. You thought, watching the palm leafs sway outside. Hopefully I won’t have to remind myself it’s real. From school days to beach days.

Stretching your limbs relieved some discomfort from the car ride. Long hours of listening to the radio and conversing excessively was finally behind you. A summer of whatever you pleased lay ahead; restricted to the beach of course. You were a teenager not a bird.

From down the hall, you heard Charlotte’s mother announce gleefully how she was to walk down the beach, eager to see it.

Pushing your luggage to the end of the bed, you quickly changed into sandals. You were not yet ready for a swim, but you definitely wanted to see how the area may have changed.

“You coming?” Charlotte appeared at the door, all ready changed into her swimwear.

“Yeah.” You snatched a hat and left Sir Hopps to test out the bed.

Outdoors, a warm summer day surrounded you. A mixture of various tree species decorated the area around the beach house. Tall grass gave way to well-worn paths; an easy marker to find a popular location.

Happily thrilled to not be at work, Charlotte’s mother led the way over a short wooden bridge. A functional decoration your guardian had made fun of in the past for its lack of grandeur.

Thankfully, for the bridge’s sake, your guardian had volunteered to sort food into the kitchen. Likely an excuse to do it themselves or make a call to reassure someone of all of your arrival. Perhaps all of the above.

Ahead of you, Charlotte gasped, “People are surfing.”

Softly shuffling through the sand, you gazed into the distance and beheld more blue water in sight than people.

“Do you see them?” Charlotte asked and hurried closer to the shoreline.

Uh, you thought as a splash caught your attention.

“Were they far left of the rocks?” You asked, unsure.

“They were right there.” She urged, stopping before she reached the wet sand.

“I’m sure there will be plenty of time to watch surfers, volleyball players, and the like. We have all summer.” Her mother pointed out with a calm air.

Charlotte does not get the majority of her personality from her mom. You smiled at the thought.

She kicked at the sand and resumed her inspection as someone paddled through the water.

Well, you thought, at least the surfer is okay. Your sandals made prints atop of the sand as you headed to the right. The tide doesn’t look high right now.

Not far from sight of your friend, you ventured to the tide pools. A decent sized area with dark rocky surfaces trapping water and hopefully home to some sea creatures. A curious and always surprising spot to visit.

Cautious near slippery rocks and unseen animals, you got a closer look. An enclosed, wondrous little world was there to greet you. Tiny fish dodge any would-be dangers and a starfish clung to the side of a rock. Natural beauty free to see.

A light breeze returned to tickle your skin with fresh air.

You smiled again. You could almost laugh with the emotions overtaking your being. All positive with feeling more free to discover, go your own pace, touch the world, make any expression, and feel alive. The vacation had it all laid out before you. Any day of the week.

A slight flip of warm emotion, familiar, made itself known in your chest.

Lifting your gaze up, you smiled towards the horizon.

I wish Dick could see this place, you thought, hoping he knew you were happy. He could even meet Charlotte. That’d be entertaining.

Your thoughts veered back to when you parted ways for the summer break. All mixed emotions and words; you kind of wished you had told Dick more.

Told him, what? You sighed.

Some emotions were nameless and descriptions proved difficult in your mind. Being young meant your future held many learning opportunities. Perhaps experiencing more would aid you in recognizing feelings.

No matter how new and complex your emotions, you knew your soulmate was on your side.

✧ ✧ ✧

Back inside the stately Wayne Manor, Dick Grayson sat on the end corner of his bed. Calm, thoughtful, and slightly restless. He couldn’t concentrate in the living room or even Bruce’s private study.

Routines remained upheld even when the young ward would rather talk to you than memorize another Latin verb.

Dick Grayson’s mind was busy. No book or old toy plane in his room could gain his attention. An unfinished puzzle sat atop of a wooden board in a corner of his bedroom, a firm reminder of who he was missing those early summer days.

The familiar warmth of your voice that made him smile, how your hand fit comfortably with his own when you needed each other, your stories that grabbed his full attention, and hugs he never wanted to end were all cherished memories while you were away on a beach vacation. Without school days, it became difficult to think of anything else with his free time besides Robin duties and a soulmate’s bond.

Too bad that storm showed up, Dick thought. I don’t know what else we would’ve talked about, but it still would’ve been nice. He glanced down at your essay beside him on his bed. I wonder if they’d be nervous if I read their essay—while they were here.

Dick smiled at the mental image of you sitting in his room while eagerly awaiting his review of your end of year paper.

Exhaling quietly, he leaned back on his hands.

No homework or studying. We didn’t get much of that. He thought back to the day you two went out for milkshakes and how he drove you both back to the manor. We had to ask Bruce what we could do. Shaking his head with a smile, he remembered his first outing with you. I don’t think I’d ever had so much fun at a baseball game. Gosh, we barely knew each other then. His face warmed at the thought. At least it’s not all work. We can even have fun in a library!

Again, Dick pictured you in his room. All curious to his belongings and keepsakes. Questions on the tip of your tongue and a thin sweater the prettiest shade of ocean blue.

But his soulmate was not there. Not even a phone call to hear your voice. No number to memorize and a call to tell you that he hoped you were having fun.

Imagining you having a bright grin at some beach, somewhere, could almost mask how much he truly missed being with you.

It didn’t always work, especially for a teenager with growing feelings for his soulmate.

What a predicament.

A sliver of cold covered his fingertips.

Being alone made Dick Grayson greatly aware of himself. His breathing and even the feel of his socks were more noticeable. It was quiet, no distractions except for his own mind. His own excited curiosity of what his soulmate could be doing and what could be.

Dick no longer had a nameless shape of a person in mind, he knew you.

They could be doing anything right now, he thought while pulling at the corner of your essay papers. Maybe not anything like singing in front of a crowd or causing trouble.

He sighed.

I could be doing something besides sitting here.

Of course there was the obvious: to read your paper.

The youth had been looking forward to reading your paper since you offered. It had sat in his bedroom for days. Yet he wondered if he should wait, to keep it for a later time; like a surprise treat from you.

He couldn’t talk to you or see you during the summer. Your essay was the closest thing to hearing from you. Waiting to read it on a day he particularly missed you could prove to be helpful in the long run.

That all left Dick with two questions:

What was he going to do the rest of the afternoon?

And, how was he going to react when he saw you after summer break?

Heck, Dick thought with a slight twist in his stomach and heat to his cheeks. I hope I don’t kiss them in front of Aunt Harriet.

✧ ✧ ✧

Dawn had long since casted its blue-pink dewey glow over the horizon and trees. The earth’s temperature rising and creatures starting their day.

Without a need to rush, you sat down at the dining table with your breakfast.

“Dolphins!” Exclaimed your guardian from the front windows.

“Where?” Charlotte’s voice traveled from one of the bathrooms.

“They’re jumping!”

You chuckled into your breakfast as the excited chatter went throughout the beach house.

Again, you had no reason to run around. You had slept in well passed mid morning and did not regret a minute. You needed sleep.

To start a day relatively slow was almost abnormal for you, a teenager with school and social responsibilities.

It’s definitely a vacation, you thought with a smirk. And no social event for miles. You sat back and stretched your legs. Miles and miles away.

No anxiety with that any time soon.

If there was one time of year both you and your guardian looked forward to it was leaving the city to enjoy a mostly quiet beach. Sure, Gotham City had a beach, but it was incredibly popular by locals and tourists alike. Vacation meant relaxing. Relaxing to its fullest meant time away from the everyday rush.

No work. No projects. Not a morning full of traffic.

“(Y/N),” your guardian walked into the room, wiping their sunglasses with a cloth. “Did you want to see the dolphins?”

“Not right now.”

“They’ll swim away.”

“It’s okay. They might make a surprise return later.” You smiled playfully. “Never know.”

“Never know,” they repeated. “Any plans today? You remembered to bring a book?”

“I did. Uh… I think I’m going to look for different animals today. Maybe even a stingray when the tide goes out later.”

“All right, but don’t get too close.”

You shook your head immediately.

No way am I touching wildlife!

Knowing you understood, your guardian grabbed their beach bag from a chair and said, “I’m going to join Lauren. If you’re the last one out, can you grab the key?”

“Will do.”

“Remember to put on the sun lotion.”

“I will.”

“And please lock the door.” They added as they neared the front door.

“Okay.” You answered. “Where’d you leave the key?”

✧ ✧ ✧

A beautiful summer morning in the Wayne Manor. Most of the occupants were sitting around the coffee table, each reading, enjoying their time.

Only Dick Grayson read from an original work by someone he knew. Handwritten with purpose and knowledge of how the papers were to be held by his hands. A copy made specifically for him.

Seven sheets of paper, handwriting on both sides, held his curiosity. Edgar Allan Poe: Dark Masterpieces, a descriptive essay written by you. A short journey of three of Poe’s works and how each made you feel.

An interesting read for someone who could sense and feel your emotions. Having words help decipher your feelings was a definite bonus.

Is the poem not suppose to be creepy? Dick wondered as he read on to another page; your descriptions of The Raven making the youth question what he thought of the famous poem.

Each paragraph drew him in. Your words annotated the poems’ stories of grief, love, and reality. The works of Evening Star and A Dream Within A Dream were new to Dick, yet the familiarity of your words helped form images with understandings wrapped within your detailed emotions written so clearly.

Learning more of you in each sentence surprised Dick.

I sure didn’t think an essay would let me know how (Y/N) thinks. What they think about these topics anyway. Dick swallowed and shifted in his seat.

The initial expectation of reading your essay was to see Poe’s work through a different lens. Your writing in front of him gave him much more and Dick wasn’t sure he had been properly prepared. Between the talks of struggling with grief, love for something warm, and how people perceive reality—Dick knew he had to sit for a good while to think everything over.

I guess everyone has some sort of painful memories and thinks deep on what life means, Dick thought with a dip of cold in his chest, even (Y/N).

Surely, there was nothing to be worried about. It was all about life, the uncomfortable parts.

The Evening Star still confuses me though. Sure it’s warmer than the moon…but… Am I missing a metaphor or something?

Running his fingers along the margins, a soft glow of warmth bloomed high in his chest. Your words on the poem made Dick wonder with a glimmer of hope. For your words were a reaction to the poem as well as a glimpse into your heart: To love someone more than another, happily and in full acknowledgment, with their bright light of being must be a great shameless joy, familiar or otherwise. Perhaps that is what people seek and imagine with thoughts of their soulmate.

The mention of soulmate—your mention—had him tucking into the couch to cover his smile and whatever happy expression he wore. No logical reason had Dick react in such a way. No other words made him feel happier amidst the essay.

What complex emotions to have for an excitable youth. What a smile to have while thinking of one of his favorite people. His soulmate was quite a person indeed.

✧ ✧ ✧

Air rushed passed your ears and soft sand kicked up behind you. Ahead lay a partially full parking lot.

“Hurry!” Charlotte panted from about three paces behind you.

“We can make it!” You pushed yourself to run faster across hot sand.

“I can’t see it!”

“Come on.”

Reaching the edge of the beach, you vaulted yourself over a short concrete wall. A burning texture rubbed onto your bare hand.

“Whoa.” Your feet hit the heated pavement of the parking lot and motivation to move struck you. You took off towards the exit by the street in the distance where a familiar jingle rang out.

Late afternoon sun evaporated most of the standing water from the long thunderstorm that had washed the area for hours. Each step felt hotter than the last. Yet you two pushed onward.

There was a mission in place.

“I can still hear it.” Charlotte said from the other side of a truck as you two progressed. Waves of blonde hair billowed behind her.

Thank goodness, you thought, focusing on your breathing. Coins shook within the small zipper bag in your grasp.

Your feet struck the sidewalk and the path lead you closer to victory. Only half a block to go.

A familiar jingle of a song grew louder. Sunlight reflected off of its source, speakers set atop of a white ice cream truck. The brilliantly mobile store of limited frozen delights.

Sides pinching and feet burning, Charlotte and yourself made it to the end of a relatively short line for frozen sweet treats.

Less than fifteen people in total within a line at a beach was not bad at all. Unless the truck had a low supply of your favorites.

“What…was that?” Charlotte huffed, “Three blocks?”

“Felt like,” you coughed, “a little more.”

But we made it. Ha ha!

You were proud of you both. That truck could had taken off if no one eager was around. If you two had merely walked you would surely had missed the opportunity. Neither of you would had heard the song if you two weren’t outside looking at the effect the thunderstorm had on the beach.

The hard part was over and treats were hidden only about ten feet away.

Beside you, Charlotte smiled, “Are you going to tell Dick?”

Frowning with every ounce of bewilderment, you asked simply, “What?”

“About what we did.”

“Running to catch the ice cream truck?”

“No. How you leapt over the wall.” She clarified. “Didn’t you say he’s an expert in rope climbing at his school?”

“I didn’t say ‘expert’.”

“Sure.”

Her playful words held back a fraction of her underlying thoughts; how you spoke of your soulmate so graciously and complimentary.

“But he might be impressed by our athletic prowl-ness.” She nudged your arm with her right one. “He can hear how exciting you can be. You’re not all studying and books.”

You shook your head without a quick response. It never was easy to have one when a conversation came unexpectedly.

The two of you took two steps forward.

“I’m serious.” She stated more softly. “Show him how fun you can be. He knows how smart you are. From what you’ve told me Dick is one heck of an observant guy. Emotions are one thing, I know, but…”

You two shuffled closer to the truck.

“But maybe you can help him see there’s more out there than fancy dinners and school.”

You chuckled. Oh, he knows, you thought.

“And I don’t mean secretly meeting at the library.”

“Oh, no,” you laughed. “No running between shelves?”

“Not one. He’s your soulmate. Go out.”

Smile disappearing, you turned to your friend. You were met by an air of stubbornness.

“Out as friends.” You said clearly.

Charlotte gave you a hard look. “Fine.” She conceded. “We should get to meet him before you two catch feelings anyway. It’s our duty.”

“Our duty?” You repeated.

“As your friends, we hold the right, duty, and obligation to meet and give judgement to your soulmate. It’s required.”

“It’s in the friend contract?” Your smile slowly reappeared, egged on by your friend’s deep, genuine care.

“Always has been. Right after sharing fries.”

Smiles and laughter passed between you both up until you reached the open service window of the ice cream truck.

Finally.

Purchasing two treats each came easily for everyone involved. The two adults back in the beach house would surely be pleased with their surprise favorites.

After thanking the vendor, Charlotte and yourself started the walk back to the beach house.

One Fudge Stix for her and one Strawberry Shortcake for you. A sweet refresh to get you both through more walking.

Balancing a pouch of change and an Italian Ice in one hand and your treat in the other, you glanced up to the sky. Grey clouds dispersing to reveal more of the grey-blue sky.

Earlier in the day, the sky was bright as you all had gone swimming between looking for dolphins, stingray, and fish. It wasn’t until later that all of you ran indoors before a large thunderstorm reached the shoreline and drenched the area. You had spent those hours reading on the cool floor indoors.

The tile will feel real good now, you thought. I think I’ve had enough physical exercise today.

Laughing internally, you remembered a phone call you had with Dick weeks ago about running. True to your word, you ran after dessert. Perhaps not cookies in an oven, but ice cream that could had been driven away had given you a lot of motivation to move quickly.

“Sorry I bought the last Fudge Stix,” Charlotte said before taking another bite.

“It’s fine.” You managed to reply with your senses fully absorbing strawberry. “They didn’t have any cones either.”

It’s getting later, so, we’re lucky there were any left, you thought. Still bright out though. Oh! And the storm could have brought a bunch of shells and shark teeth. You passed through the emptying parking lot and considered the time. I could still look tomorrow. But I better focus on this ice cream.

You didn’t want it to drip and waste the wonderful taste. With that in mind, you still had to deliver the frozen surprises before it melted completely. An Italian Ice and an Ice Pop ready for the others.

✧ ✧ ✧

In Gotham City, among the moving traffic and popular buildings, Dick Grayson sat in the back of the car with both Bruce Wayne and his Aunt Harriet.

Conversation had settled and with the ever loyal Alfred behind the steering wheel, Dick looked out the window. The quiet and steady hum of the vehicle pushed the youth’s thoughts to be louder.

I should ask (Y/N) if they’d like to stay for dinner, Dick thought and pictured you at a table. Aunt Harriet wouldn’t say no to that. But what would we eat? I don’t know what (Y/N)’s favorite meal is. They like desserts. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t.

Streetlights casted a faint glow even as the sun continued setting. Light reflected off the city’s many windows.

Gosh, there’s still so much we don’t know about each other. Like, is there a class they don’t like? Where’s the furthest they’ve traveled? Is there an event they wouldn’t mind going to?

Sitting quietly, Dick considered the car’s current destination. Dinner, not a special occasion or celebration.

That could be an option, he thought, all of us out to dinner. One day.

The youth’s stomach growled.

At least he didn’t have to wait until that one day to eat.

✧ ✧ ✧

A light breeze came in from the beach, an added ingredient to relaxation with the slow sway of the couch swing.

You could fall asleep that way. Still digesting dinner, relaxing beside Charlotte, and enjoying the view. After another day of fun, it was nice. What vacation should feel like.

The horizon spill further into blues as the golden hues disappeared. Each sunset later than the last. Days grew longer as night shortened in the summer. Vacation, like most days, seemed to speed by more every year. So finding space to sit and absorb the moment as it happened was precious. Even more so when you were able to share it with a friend.

Charlotte was someone you had known prior to becoming a teenager. Ever since you two had sat next to one another in a science class, you had been as close as Chip and Dale.

Students who struggle to read a teacher’s handwriting stick together. That was the shared motto for a couple of years.

As of late, the motto was: sleep is gold.

And goodness was it ever! Maybe even better than gold. Sleep was definitely needed and, to you, preferable.

I feel like I can do much more during the day now, you thought. Almost forgot what it felt like to not be busy and tired. Thank goodness for breaks. Thank goodness for a bed!

You smiled to yourself.

Still using her leg to softly move the couch swing, Charlotte inquired in a hushed voice, “How did you know for certain—absolutely—that Dick Grayson was your soulmate? Minus anyone telling you?” Her gaze was fixed on the sunset.

“Umm. Beside a gut feeling…I guess it was between reactions that couldn’t be coincidence and kind of just knowing.”

“Just knowing?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Like how you know you like something or know you’re in the right place. It’s weird, I guess, but not any weirder than feeling someone else’s emotions.”

“Would it be strange if someone only felt their own emotions?”

“I don’t think so. Some people—”

“Elliot.”

“—can’t tell what most emotions are anyway.” You turned to look at your friend. “Did he say something?”

Charlotte shook her head. “Not to me. Lucy said he was borrowing one of her psychology books.”

A reactive frown formed on your face.

“I know,” she replied. “Not mathematics or architecture? Who knows, maybe you and Dick Grayson got him thinking.”

“Maybe.”

Both of you silently considered the possibility of your mutual friend’s new interest.

It would be neat if Elliot did research soulmates in any capacity, you thought. We could all learn something new.

✧ ✧ ✧

A summer night in the quiet, stately Wayne Manor and all was peaceful.

The Batcave remained dark and the manor’s lights were off. Everything was still.

Young Dick Grayson laid in his bed, awake and thinking of anything but sleep. Preoccupied by events that did and did not happen.

Earlier in the night before his drink of warm milk, as his aunt encouraged, and dental routine, the household had been stargazing. Bruce’s telescope had much use.

Out there, he found himself really wishing you were with him. Between listening to Bruce and gazing at the celestial bodies, Dick imagined what you’d say and do. He pictured you staying warm by his side. Just being happy. Two of you together and studying the night sky.

Dick Grayson smiled and rolled to his side. What a day, he thought. His mind was occupied by curious thoughts once more. From what the night could had looked like to next call on the Batphone to what his soulmate could be doing.

(Y/N) is probably asleep all ready. He tucked his hands underneath his pillow. The soulmate bond within him felt calm from your side.

It was odd for Dick to fully comprehend the situation alongside his feelings. He knew where you were and that you were fine. Yet, unfortunately for him, he wouldn’t hear from you. Not too unlike when you were punished unfairly for not attending a lunch. Even so, it would be the longest without hearing from you by far.

But they’re more than okay. They’re happy and haven’t been nervous at all. Not that I’ve noticed.

His smile grew picturing you at a beach house your guardian described to his Aunt Harriet. Perhaps you had also looked up into the starry night. Maybe you thought of him while taking a walk along the sand. Perhaps late at night you wondered if he read your essay or if he traveled to Gotham’s beach.

Does (Y/N) think of me often?

Inside, Dick felt sparks of delight in his chest.

Dick’s imagination surged on.

A warm, blue sky afternoon set the scene.

Dick, dressed in his swim trunks and shirt, crept across the white beach towards you. Your attention held by flying seagulls.

“Enjoying the view?” Dick asked with a growing smirk.

You pivoted on the sand with wide eyes and a beaming grin.

Like magnets, you two were instantly embracing and holding on for the longest time.

“You’re here!” You exclaimed, pulling away slightly. “How are you?”

“I’m fine.” Then with a small laugh, he asked, “Are you all right?”

The two of you shared a joyous laugh.

Your eyes quickly downcast as you without a doubt sensed his many feelings for you.

Would you be able to decipher them all?

Images slowed and Dick’s imagination ran off the sleepier he became.

Contently, you held his right hand.

Your lips pressed against his cheek. You kissed his other cheek.

Once more you kissed his face and whispered his name.

Fading images dispersed completely as Dick fell asleep with a faint smile on his face.

✧ ✧ ✧

Morning in the Wayne Manor brought warm sunlight into the rooms of the stately home. Birds chirped outdoors and the appearance of the sky hinted at a beautiful summer day.

Dick Grayson surely saw it as one.

The youthful ward had a bounce in his step since hopping out of bed. His mood was not unusual and therefore not questioned.

Hopefully not, Dick thought from his seat in Bruce’s private study. His mind replayed his dream again as he flipped pages in his Latin binder.

The familiar and partially restricted study of the millionaire Bruce Wayne should had been empty. A person who should not know the location of the Batcave should not be near its entrance.

You and Dick had been in there at night instead of keeping Aunt Harriet company.

Trying to keep quiet was difficult when books and papers were everywhere. He didn’t know why. Searching through the mess, Dick tried finding your essay to show you he still had it, that he read it.

It wasn’t until you walked passed him, did he realize you two shouldn’t be in there without Bruce.

Well, he could be.

Forgetting his first intentions, Dick grabbed your hand and held on tightly. He tried to pull you closer.

You were not to be there. Too close to the bust on the desk.

The thought of you in there, close to his secret, was alarming. He was thankful that part was a dream.

The dream version of you was much too interested in the bust for Dick’s liking.

Dick tried steering you away.

Until you turned and your open palm rested on his chest. His anxiousness forgotten. He found himself running his free hand up and down your arm slowly.

Dick sighed into the open binder.

The dream had ended before he could press his lips to your cheek.

I’m surprised I haven’t dreamed of them much before, Dick thought.

“Dick?” Bruce Wayne’s voice broke through his ward’s inner most thoughts.

“What is it, Bruce?”

“I had asked you a question about the current Latin verbs you have been studying.” Bruce eyed him thoughtfully.

“Oh. I’m sorry, Bruce. I was…remembering something.”

“Perhaps you’re distracted by romantic thoughts.”

Dick didn’t reply. Blue eyes downcast to his notes as his cheeks warmed.

Beep Beep

A call on the Batphone!

I have to really focus today, he thought as he rushed to Bruce’s side. I can’t let Bruce down.

✧ ✧ ✧

Summer vacation at the beach continued on. Hot days and warm night for you.

Cool air of the bathroom was something to hang on to before heading into the morning light.

Changing into your swim attire, you had a short time to yourself and a sense of peace while everyone had their own schedule. No work or school. Time for your thoughts to wander

Even miles away and days a part, you too had a dream featuring your soulmate.

Your first?

In complete privacy, you smiled.

The dream had been short, but delightfully cute.

You had been sitting on the ottoman in the Wayne Manor and looking through an encyclopedia when Dick sat behind you. Resting his chin on your right shoulder, he asked if you’d wanted to go somewhere.

After pondering over the sweetness of the dream, you couldn’t remember where he said.

But that doesn’t really matter. It was a dream. I don’t need to go anywhere, you thought. But it was cute. Peaceful. Better than those school nightmares.

Better indeed.

After sorting your belongings in your side of the room and leaving Sir Hopps to guard the room, you headed out to the water with Charlotte.

“OH. It’s always so cold,” Charlotte exclaimed as she stepped ankle-deep into the water.

“Better than it being hot. Just go and we’ll get used to it.” You shuffled further into the small waves faster.

“We did that yesterday and you fell in.”

“I was fine.” You turned your head to look at her only a moment before rushing passed the breaking waves.

“Good! I might still look into being First Aid certified.”

“Good.” You were far enough out to float comfortably. “Then Willa won’t think it’s strange for me to carry around bandages.”

“It’s a little strange,” she said as she soon joined you, “but only because we’ve needed them. That’s why I didn’t pack any.”

You laughed.

She’s never packed bandages!

“Watch out,” Charlotte started with a smirk, “I’ll tell Grayson about your bag of bandages.”

You laughed harder.

“And when I see him, I’ll tell him how you love The Monkees.”

“Oh, no,” you giggled, unafraid.

Floating about in the undulating water, your laughter settled as Charlotte started humming a theme song.

Between listening to the sound of the waves, your friends’s humming, and the breeze, you were being lulled into relaxation. Nothing too loud to disturb you.

The world around you appeared calm.

Waves carried you and your hidden worries away.

You closed your eyes, fingers skimming the water. Smooth. It reminded you of how dream you had fixed your soulmate’s hair after he approached you with such gentleness.

“Now, I have to ask…,” Charlotte treaded water closer to you. “What’s Dick Grayson like as a soulmate?”

“A person?” You looked over at her and caught her playful expression. “He’s a good friend. I’ve told you that before.”

“I saw that little smile. You thinking about him?”

“I think of other things.” You defended.

“Except about thirty seconds ago.”

You flicked water at her.

“That’s true, but that wasn’t your thinking-of-cute-animals smile.”

“… That raises questions.” You blinked at her. “But…um… What was I even going to ask?”

Looking around, your gaze surveyed the beach line.

Goodness, what’s it with her questions? Dick’s personality, soulmates, and repeating questions—

“Why is it that you want me to admit feelings for him?”

Charlotte no doubt knew which him.

“Because you’ve been getting defensive lately.”

“It’s like you’re asking the same questions. You, Lucy, Nathaniel… You’ll meet Dick eventually, yah know.”

Quiet settled between you both. Two pairs of eyes staring at the other.

This really is about if I have a crush on Dick or not, you thought sourly. Exhaling slowly, you swam a little closer to shore and glanced at the puffy clouds. I don’t think I’m ready to fully answer that question.

✧ ✧ ✧

One beautiful Wednesday morning in Gotham City, curious shoppers roamed a hat salon.

Harriet Cooper stood thoughtfully as an employee displayed a new decorative hat.

“Oh, I just don’t know.” Aunt Harriet said as she checked herself wearing the hat in a small mirror.

“I believe the blue one had suited you better,” said Bruce kindly.

Aunt Harriet considered it silently.

All the while the employee excused themselves to fetch the other hat again.

The hats are all so different, thought Dick. I don’t see how she can pick one.

Standing quietly and patiently, Dick Grayson viewed the salon as decently busy.

Suddenly, a teenager no older than him walked up to him with a smile.

“Hi,” said the teenage boy with light brown hair and a bright shirt. “Dick Grayson, right?”

“I am.”

Who is he? Dick thought as he held out his hand.

“I’m Nathaniel. (Y/N)’s friend.”

Surprise and delight came from hearing a familiar name.

Holy coincidence.

“Hi. How are you?”

The two shook hands enthusiastically.

“Fine.” Nathaniel answered. “It’s good to put a face to the name in person. (Y/N) has spoken highly of you.”

“Oh.” Dick smiled. “Likewise. (Y/N) has said how you want to be a movie director.”

He laughed, “Or critic, whichever gets me closer to watching more movies and how they’re made.”

Dick found his soulmate’s friend easy to talk to. He definitely didn’t expect to cross paths with one of your friends by chance.

A hand touched his shoulder. Bruce Wayne.

“Aunt Harriet, Bruce,” said Dick, “this is Nathaniel. One of (Y/N)’s friends from school.”

“It is so good to meet you.” Aunt Harriet smiled sweetly and genuinely.

“Likewise ma’am.”

Stepping forward, Bruce shook hands briefly with your friend and said, “It’s nice to meet you, Nathaniel. May I ask which movies you’re interested in?”

“Yes, sir.” He nodded. “Mainly documentaries, mysteries, and historical fiction. Anything that has the audience thinking during the film and after.” Nathaniel glanced over to another part of the store for a second then said to Dick, “You’re welcome to join our group to the movies. We usually go watch something before the start of school. Catch up and all.”

“That’d be fun. Thank you.” Dick grinned.

“We’ll both have to tell (Y/N) I invited you.”

“Right.”

He looked to the side again and gestured with a hand. “I’m picking out a hat for my mom. Her birthday’s soon and I have to hide it.” Nathaniel chuckled. “It was nice meeting each of you.”

“You too.”

With a nod, your friend walked back to another smiling employee.

“What a sweet young man,” Aunt Harriet stated.

Before anyone could reply, the well-dressed employee took their chance to step in with a blue hat from earlier.

The movies. Dick thought with growing excitement. Would all of their friends be there? And—GOSH—I didn’t expect to meet (Y/N)’s friends soon. Well…one of them right now. He rubbed his hands together. (Y/N) and I really should talk about it. They are (Y/N)’s friends after all.

A swirling feeling in his gut continued as he considered a future meeting with your friends.

✧ ✧ ✧

“There’s sand here too.” Charlotte pointed to the edge of the hallway.

“Didn’t we just sweep?” You asked, tip-toeing around the small sandy path and entering the bedroom.

“Yes, but you’ve seen my shoes. It’ll be weeks before I get all the sand out of them to—I swear he didn’t have that book before.”

Huh?

You glanced over to see Charlotte pointing at Sir Hopps. Your small blue plush bunny had the Prince Caspian book beside him.

Smiling and heading to your luggage, you decided not to reply.

Charlotte gathered a set of fresh clothes and headed out to the bathroom down the hall.

I can do it now, you thought.

Slipping out a bright, loose leaf paper as quietly as you could, you settled yourself on the floor between the wall and your bed. Time to yourself. A quiet secluded spot to attempt working through developing thoughts and feelings.

You twirled a pen between your fingers.

Being more around Charlotte and talking a little about your soulmate made you wonder a few things. All right, a lot of things were on your mind and thankfully writing them out helped you at least keep track of where your thoughts were headed.

Crush or no crush, he’s my friend. Just a little different. You thought as you scribbled down a question.

What made Dick Grayson different than your other friends?

An important question to revisit.

Sure, you could sense each other’s emotions, but you knew your friends well enough to know how they felt most times. Observation and all. Maybe it was his large capacity for empathy.

He cares so much! Even for those he would never know. And helpful. You thought briefly of his secret life. Kind of almost unbelievable at this point. It’s a lot to comprehend and I don’t think he’ll ever bring it up.

It was probably for the best.

All of that in his heart and weight on Dick’s shoulders. You admired that about him. He acted out of selfless compassion.

He’s always working on improving. At this point, I really don’t think he goes to spend time with his own friends at school. You couldn’t help but to frown a bit at that. Robin duties?

Exhaling, you focused on your emotions. Nothing too out there. Thinking of your soulmate as also being Robin the Boy Wonder felt like a fictional story. That’s as comfortable as you could get with the fact.

None of my other friends have drastically different activities in school versus at home. Not that I know of.

You elected not to write down any secrets that were not our own. Just in case.

Even with your private writings, you would not risk it. Not him, you could not handle ruining a part of Dick’s life. You would never dare to even leave a mark.

People need him. And Dick always puts others first. Heck, he helped me before we officially met! You thought, leaning back against the bed. We know each other now. Mostly study habits and little things like after school activities.

But you wanted to know more. There was nothing odd about wanting to share more interests with Dick. Nothing strange about hugging your soulmate more than friends you’ve had for years.

Being soulmates is…like being connected more. A quick glance out the window and the trees looked to be swaying slowly. Another calm summer day. Just a couple of weeks left of vacation.

Once you were back home in Gotham City, you weren’t sure what you and Dick would be up to later in the year. A new school year and holiday seasons were on their way.

“Oh,” you said quietly. Pen and paper set aside.

Would we be together during certain holidays? Or are we not close enough for that? I’m not sure how this works. My guardian might like it. Charlotte and Willa have come over during winter break once. We exchange gifts—OH!

Snatching up the pen, you wrote quickly: When is Dick Grayson’s birthday?

I don’t think I’ve missed it. I hope I didn’t. Aunt Harriet would’ve said something. What would I even get him? You were mentally drawing a blank. I have time. Hopefully. I guess I’ll have to ask. If I can hold his hand in public, I can ask him when his birthday is. No big deal.

Despite your thoughts, your stomach still fluttered.

A small worry about finding a perfect birthday gift couldn’t be all bad. You wanted to get him something he’d like; of course. Something that’d make him happy. To smile.

For Dick to smile like when you slid into Aunt Harriet’s car. To see him grin as that time you made a silly face. Or even the joy he had shared while you told a story side by side at a baseball game.

Your mind flickered back to the car ride back home when his knuckles went from red to white and his eyebrows knitted together.

You swallowed as a heaviness settled over your heart.

He really didn’t want me to go yet, did he?

Memories of resting your head against his and trying to keep emotions in check for both your sakes could almost be felt. Reliving it tightened your throat.

I guess I mean a lot to him.

It was hardly a guess. Caring and respecting the other was mutual. To holding hands tightly to holding discreetly, there was something left unsaid. A warmth you were growing familiar with.

Dick acted upon it more.

You weren’t sure how to react or view your surprise to Dick’s kiss on your cheek and his sweet smile. It was different. New from him.

How it was specifically different and why?

You had no idea where to start. But the heat that rose to your neck and fluttering in your chest hinted at something still developing under each smile. Would you write that down too?

✧ ✧ ✧

Back in the stately Wayne Manor, Dick Grayson sat in the living room with a binder of Latin on his lap.

Sights on paper and mind busying itself with internal images, Dick might as well set his studying aside for the day. He had been brushing up on a few words. Honest, he was.

Until one word switched his train of thoughts and he was able to remember more of another dream he had of his soulmate.

A less frantic dream. One where he was attempting to take you to his room, to show you, but Dick had trouble finding the right door. Confusing as it was, he mainly held your hand to make sure you were still there. Dick didn’t want to lose you, even in the manor. Throughout it all, dream-you kept reassuring him everything was fine.

A light comforting warmth settled in his chest. To his annoyance, the fumbling feeling of embarrassment joined in.

I must think of (Y/N) so much that I’m dreaming about them. Dick figured that was far better than any bad dream about large clams, forgetting homework, or being trapped.

Fingers clenching and relaxing alternately, Dick didn’t bother looking at his notes anymore.

“Is everything all right, Dick?” Bruce asked as he set down a textbook.

The youth sighed, “I guess.”

“You guess?”

“It’s… I was thinking about (Y/N)—I was studying, I promise,” he reassured Bruce. “This sounds ridiculous, but I was thinking of how I think of (Y/N). Well, how often. Some times it feels like a lot.”

“It’s normal to think of others, but you have to be mindful not to let your romantic imagination distract you.”

Dick nodded solemnly.

“You’re soulmates and you each have responsibilities.”

“I know, but we don’t have any examples of people like us together.” Dick spoke more passionately. “No one to look to. Heck, I never thought much of it when I was a little kid. Now… Well some times I barely notice their emotions and other times…”

“It’s overwhelming.”

“Yeah and I think when we’re together it’s easier to feel or it’s more noticeable. I dunno.” He shook his head and leaned further into the couch. “What are soulmates supposed to do?”

“Be authentic to yourselves.”

“But why do we feel each other’s emotions? Is there a reason? We can help each other, in our own ways.” Dick exhaled and lightly hit the armrest. “But I’ve worried about them too with nothing I can do.”

Bruce was quiet for a moment, contemplating.

Dick Grayson didn’t know what else to say. Too many questions repeating in his mind. A sharp contrast to the silence of the room.

“(Y/N) and yourself have an opportunity to learn what many of us can only theorize or hope to experience. The two of you will be future examples for soulmates who find one another.”

Mixed emotions in the youth settled as an understanding was accepted.

Blue eyes looked to Bruce.

“I still wish there was a book about soulmates.”

Bruce chuckled, “There are, but I’m afraid they won’t answer your specific questions.”

“Darn it.”

Bruce rose an eyebrow and added, “You could write a book yourself.”

And write what?

✧ ✧ ✧

Waves were perfect and picturesque. Rolling onto the shore in a soothing rhythm.

The ideal sounds to listen to as opposed to Charlotte and her older cousin talking to some boys with surfboards.

You weren’t quite in the mood to socialize a great deal with strangers. Added the your friend’s eagerness seemed almost forced. So, instead, you took to walking the shoreline barefoot.

Smiling, you watched as the water slowly moved in to tickle your feet. In another second or two, the sand beneath you softened.

I could easily sink into the sand, you thought. Like a little crab. Minus the claws.

You glanced further up the beach to where your guardian and Charlotte’s mom Lauren sat under an umbrella. No doubt they were still switching stations on the portable radio. The pair had been having just as much fun as you and Charlotte.

Thankfully it was that sort of vacation and not a stressful schedule filled one. At least it wasn’t boring either.

Dick would’ve loved seeing all the birds yesterday. Probably would’ve debated whether or not one was a flamingo… Charlotte thought it might’ve been a crane.

Laughter caught your attention. A sudden mixture voiced by the small group that included your friend down the beach. They all seemed friendly together.

A faint coolness filled your stomach and limbs.

Should you had joined them? You weren’t about to ask your guardian that.

Dick would talk with them.

You sighed.

Oh, well, you thought and continued your walk. I don’t want to intrude on their surfing anyway. The waves are —

A large jolt of surprise hit you like a wall. You barely got a breath in before waves of panic and worry also flooded through your soulmate bond.

Your own spiky anxiety surfaced.

Looking around you quickly, you shuffled across the sand away from the water. You needed to be alone. Out of direct sight from others.

There was a soft thump as you sat upon dry sand. Distanced enough from others, you were a little more free to focus on your breathing than worry about keeping a neutral expression.

You could keep calm for your soulmate. You knew that. It had been done before.

Images in your mind filled with red, green, and yellow of a familiar suit.

You can do this, you thought, but not solely for yourself.

On the beach, unbothered by anyone, you sat for some time thinking of happier thoughts.

Sitting side by side with a smiling Dick Grayson, close and secure. Both of you holding hands while birds flew by.

He’ll be okay. You told yourself repetitively. He’ll be okay.

✧ ✧ ✧

Late evening, back and safe in the Batcave, the caped crusaders exited the Batmobile. Both were relieved to have escaped and foiled Egghead’s plans.

Stretching his arms, Robin announced tiredly, “Boy, did I work up an appetite.”

“I’m sure Aunt Harriet will have a nutritious meal ready.”

“Mmm.”

Robin had no idea which dinner was to be shared up in the manor, but he knew without a doubt he’d clear his plate. Or bowl, depending on the meal.

After sorting everything in the Batcave, lights off and put away, the duo went up the Batpoles.

A long day of crime fighting left Dick Grayson in need of rest too. Not just food was on his mind.

All right, the teenager was thinking of his soulmate again.

Could you blame the excitable youth?

It wasn’t as if he was the only one.

“Gracious me,” said Aunt Harriet at the dining table, “today must have been the warmest yet. I could hardly stay in the garden to tend to the flowers.”

“Yeah. The sun was hot enough to fry an egg.” Dick announced over a plate. “Or the hair off my head.”

“What?”

His aunt’s perplexed expression made Dick realize his slight slip in words.

“Oh. Well we could all imagine the great temperatures at a desert in Arizona or the beaches in Florida.” Bruce Wayne changed the direction of the conversation.

“Oh. A trip to the beach would have been so refreshing today. Too bad you boys had to attend that meeting.”

“Our responsibilities do come first.”

“Well,” she tilted her head in thought with a soft smile, “I am glad that (Y/N) at least gets to enjoy the sun properly. Oh, but imagine the sunsets they’ve seen on the beach. The sound of the waves.”

Does (Y/N) watch sunsets? Dick wondered to himself.

“I’m sure (Y/N) has many opportunities,” Bruce said before looking to his young ward. “It’s nearly the end of July.”

The youth’s eyes widened and he exclaimed, “Holy time clock. (Y/N) could be back next week.”

“Or earlier.”

For Dick Grayson, both excited and eager, counting down the days until your return started then at dinner. The mere mention of the end of your beach vacation gave him hope for a summer together. Even a short one.

Summer holiday from school appeared long on a calendar, but days went by fast enough. Some times in a blur of other events.

Days without hearing from you and seeing you gave an eerie sense that Dick made everything up in his mind. Everything was as it had been.

But he knew that wasn’t the case; you were real. You were his friend and Dick cared about you deeply. He had protected you from Penguin’s goons before he knew your name! He had held your hand to reassure you everything would be fine on numerous occasions. Dick had helped sneak you out of a library. Overwhelmed, he had kissed your cheek. And he missed you.

Dick wanted to hear you laugh again and sit so close to you that he would surely be scolded by his aunt.

They could be back in Gotham any day. Dick thought joyfully and ate the rest of his dinner in gusto.

✧ ✧ ✧

I forgot how loud my family can be, you thought as you walked down to the beach.

Later into the morning, Charlotte and yourself found yourselves listening to all sorts of gossip from your two cousins. The pair had managed to drive out to the beach to stay the night.

The beach house was more crowded and filled with laughter than ever. Hugs had been shared most of the morning.

You hadn’t seen your two cousins in months; around the last birthday of an older relation.

A day of relatives roaming the rented home. You and Charlotte were thankful her older cousin had gone days prior for the sake of sleeping arrangements.

“I couldn’t sleep hearing those trees move at night,” exclaimed your tallest cousin in blue. “Doesn’t it sound like an animal?”

“We’re sleeping,” replied Charlotte. “How should we know?”

Smiling, the four of you crossed the wooden bridge in no time.

“The beach is much quieter than a big city like Gotham, I’m sure.” Said your second cousin, wearing one of the biggest hats you had ever seen.

“It’s different noises.” You shrugged.

Pulling briefly on their blue shirt, your cousin looked over their shoulder.

No adult guardians in sight.

Your shoulders tensed, knowing general conversations were off the table.

“All right,” they said grinning. “We’ve been dying to ask for weeks. Did you really find your soulmate!”

Two sets of eyes tried boring into your soul with their intensity. Waiting for your answer wasn’t something they could handle for long.

“Yeah.” You answered as simply as possible. Letting a small smile form wasn’t the end of the world.

“And you just ran into each other?”

“Not literally…”

“But you knew somehow?” Asked your cousin who adjusted their hat.

“It was kind of weird, but yeah.”

“Wow, (Y/N) has a millionaire as a soulmate. What are the odds?”

You frowned.

Meanwhile, Charlotte bursted out laughing. Her hand holding onto your shoulder for balance.

Dick…a millionaire? Well some information didn’t travel to everyone.

“Someone said he was.”

“He’s a ward to the millionaire Bruce Wayne,” you clarified.

“Your guardian must love that.”

You held in a reply.

Abruptly ending her laughter, Charlotte replied firmly, “At least (Y/N) won’t be completely bored when going to the higher social events in Gotham City. They have their soulmate now too.”

Yeah, you agreed silently.

Over the sandy beach, the four of you stood in an odd circle. Grouped together, but not on the same page.

The tallest of your cousins squinted at you and asked, “You’re not left alone with him, are you?”

“What? No…” You glanced between your family, attempting to get a read on their emotions.

Why would they ask that? You wondered, Dick’s my friend.

“That’s good.” They nodded, satisfied.

“But… Why did you ask that? We’re not dropped off in the woods alone or anything.”

“You’re both teenagers.”

“So? We’re friends not complete strangers.”

“Still.”

If you were confused before, you were bewildered and lost right then.

“He’s nice and a caring person,” you insisted.

Your cousins regarded each other silently.

Teenagers. Alone? Are they serious right now?

Heat radiated from your jaw and chest as it quickly expanded over your fists.

Voice seconds from cracking, you declared, “He’s not a bad person and just because we’re soulmates doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”

“We didn’t say that.” The cousin holding their hat said immediately.

Charlotte stepped forward, alarmingly calm. “He’s a millionaire’s ward who spends most of his time learning random things like Latin and world geography. (Y/N) and Dick put school before anything else. They’re the perfect study partners. Someone would have to kick them and give an hour lecture before those two would even consider going for a drive alone.”

Again, your cousins exchanged looks.

You felt no closer to knowing what was going on in their brains. Yet you were grateful for Charlotte’s help.

Your increasing heart beat didn’t help your train of thought.

“Wait. You’re not secretly dating him? Your soulmate.”

“No.” You gestured widely and asked sharply, “Why is that the first thing people go to? There are other things. Like…just living more comfortably with someone who actually knows how you feel. Someone to be honest with, without pressure of trying to figure out if you unintentionally made someone mad or if they had a bad day.” Chest heaving, your words stopped.

“Sorry.”

And just like that the conversation was dropped.

You were relieved it was over. Questions and assumptions could go so far before they hit a nerve.

A walk around the beach soon ended as well. The group of teenagers headed back indoors to take a break from sunlight and awkward chatter.

Door partially shut, you sat beside Sir Hopps on the edge of the bed. From there you could hear the others singing along to an Elvis movie.

You weren’t in the mood. Earlier you would had been, but not after the short interrogation from your cousins. A sour turn on the day.

Again, you had turned to writing. Your notes formatted into a letter for Dick Grayson full of details you wanted to tell him. Even with the letters addressed to your soulmate, you were the only one who knew of the letters’ existence. For that, you were satisfied. This one would join the others hidden in your bedroom back home.

Writing letters helped sort some thoughts. Your cousins’ choice of words among them. It annoyingly repeated in your mind.

You figured there were an amount of people, you didn’t know how many, who thought soulmates were immediately romantic.

How fast did people want to go? You shouldn’t force anything. You frowned while glancing at the wall. Is that why people really talked about me and Dick more? Because we’re young? Because teenagers are known for sports, school, loud music, and late night dates?

If you were home, you would had resulted in screaming into your pillow as a last resort to get out the day’s frustrations.

Okay. Breathe, you thought. Uncomfortable heat had already returned to your hands. It’s just odd. That’s all. People are just being weird for thinking two people who know nothing of one another should run off to an empty room and kiss. This isn’t a movie!

You blinked and twirled the pen around.

What movies have they been watching? You weren’t quite sure you actually wanted to know.

Squeals came form the living room. Happy movie watchers.

Mind trained on calming yourself, you thought, a soulmate is a stranger when first meeting and only then an acquaintance after that. A trusted acquaintance hopefully for most. Emotions give everything away. Unless someone can’t tell the difference between them all, I guess.

Logical words for a rightly emotional teenager. Much was already on your shoulders.

Being a teenager came with many changes, challenges, and lessons. Navigating what people thought about you and your soulmate added questions to your still developing mind. Doubts was something you didn’t want.

Some times it was too much. People’s opinions and unsolicited advice were striking even if they were spoken evenly.

Must it always be what others think? You wondered as you folded the paper into your luggage. They’re not me and they don’t know Dick. Some don’t know their soulmate. You glanced over to Sir Hopps, quiet and reserved. Why do they speak the loudest about us and how we should be? Always other people…

You placed your hand over your heart. A steady rhythm felt under your open palm.

What does being soulmates mean to me?

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~

Part 7 -> "

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(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful.

coffee

~~~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @cubedtriangle

DC Tags: @

Dick Grayson Taglist: @projectdreamwalker @g0atmansbridge182 

**Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.**

[missmyfriend45]

Pillow Talk

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Summary: Jay comforting you after a tough day

Word count: 1.2k

꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳꙳

It’s 3:46 a.m., and I am still wide awake. I slowly lift my head from my pillow. I could see that it was still dark outside. A little light was starting to seep through the curtains, indicating that the night was about to end. Thank god.

I didn’t even realize how much time had passed since I'd been lying here. I stare at the clock again, trying to make sense of what has happened. The events kept replaying over and over in my head, trying to figure out where it went wrong.

It was just like any other case. Jay and I were on a stakeout, waiting for our suspect, who was believed to be involved in a string of armed robberies. We spotted him near a convenience store with a backpack and something under his jacket, and he was headed straight for the store. We knew we couldn’t wait for backup, so we radioed in for some help and went after him. When we entered the store, the robber had already been waving his gun around. Jay and I immediately sprang into action. I started clearing out the rest of the store, helping the remaining customers to the back, while he engaged the suspect. When I turned my attention back to the robber, my heart went cold. He was pointing his gun at Jay.

Jay, meanwhile, had drawn his gun out and was shouting at the robber to drop his weapon, trying to deescalate the situation, but the robber didn't listen and, in fear of getting arrested, fired a shot at Jay. My heart raced as I watched the bullet hit him.

Everything happened so fast after that. It's all been a blur. Jay, stumbling backwards, lying on the floor..... Me, tackling the robber, and then trying to help Jay…. The screaming customers... Patrol arriving…

Later on, when the adrenalin faded, I realized what a close call it had been. He was lucky that the vest caught the bullet. If it had hit him even an inch lower, he would've bled out on the floor—he could have died.

And as I was lying here beside him, the realization hit me again hard, and I felt a chill run down my spine. I almost lost him today, and I didn't want to believe it. I just can’t imagine my life without him. Not seeing his beautiful eyes looking up at me, his infectious smile, not hearing his voice, or not feeling his warm touch on my body ever again. The idea of losing Jay was too much to bear; it made my heart ache. From that moment on, I just couldn’t close my eyes, afraid that when I opened them again, he wouldn’t be there next to me.

The thought terrified me and seeped through every bone in my body. I realized I was shaking, and it wasn’t from the cold. I looked up at his face, my eyes drinking in his every feature, trying to calm myself down.

He was fast asleep, his bare chest rising calmly with every breath. I could see the purple bruise from where the bullet had hit his vest; the blanket couldn’t cover it up completely. I reached out to touch it gently, but I stopped myself.

I shouldn’t disturb him; he needed his rest after the day he had, but then I knew I needed him more. I know it sounds selfish, but in this moment, I didn’t care. I needed to touch him. I know that without it, I would fall apart. I needed to make sure that he still existed.

So I carefully shifted to his side and put my head on his chest. With my arm around his waist, I pulled him as close to myself as I could and nuzzled further into his neck.

He slowly started to stir, and on instinct, he pulled me into his embrace.

Lying there and listening to his beating heart, I just couldn’t hold back my tears any longer. What if he had died? How would I survive without him?

He probably heard me sniffing in his ear, because the next thing I noticed, he started slowly caressing my arm.

"Hey, babe, is everything okay?" He asked, his voice raspy from sleep. I couldn’t find my voice, so I just shook my head.

"What’s wrong?" He reached for the lamp, and in a moment, our bedroom was filled with light. I still couldn’t speak, so I looked up at him, and I saw his face filled with worry.

I probably don’t look so good right now; my eyes are red and puffy from the lack of sleep and crying, so I can only imagine how much I scared him with that.

"You okay? Are you in pain? Please talk to me. You’re killing me over here." – I heard the desperation in his voice, so I had to pull myself together, at least long enough to give him an answer.

"Jay, I’m so sorry; I should have had your back,"  I whispered, my eyes filling with tears again.

"Hey, hey, hey... "What are you talking about?" his eyes pleading.

"This afternoon, when he shot you... It shouldn’t have happened." My voice trembled.

Realization struck him. "No, listen to me; hey, look at me," he says, and he cups my face. – "It is not your fault; it’s not on you; do you hear me? You did everything right today. You cleared the store, you helped the customers, and you took down the suspect. You couldn't have done anything more."

"I still feel like I should have done more to protect you. You could have been seriously hurt." If you died… I can’t lose you, Jay; I just can’t." – I violently shook my head.

Jay's eyes softened as he looked at me, his hand still cupping my face. "I know how you feel," he said gently. "And I can't imagine what I would do if something happened to you either."

"But you have to remember," he continued, "that we're in this together, and we look out for each other. And today, you did everything right. You were amazing out there."

Jay leaned in, planting a soft kiss on my forehead. "And I'm always here for you, no matter what. I'm not going anywhere."

I let out a deep sigh, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. "Thank you," I said softly, turning to face Jay. "For being there for me."

Jay smiled, wrapping his arms around me. "That's what partners do," he said.

I leaned into him, and I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into his embrace and feeling the tension and worry of the day slowly melt away. I was thankful for Jay’s presence, his touch, and his words of comfort.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," I confess to him, my voice barely recognizable.

Jay looked at me, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. "You'll never have to find out," he said firmly.

"I love you," I whispered, feeling the words tumble out of my mouth before I could even think. "With everything I have".

Jay smiled, pulling me even closer to him. "I love you too," he said softly. "And I always will."

He slowly laid back down on the bed, pulling me along with him.

"Now, try to get some sleep, alright"? I nodded, and he switched off the light.

As the darkness began to take over, I couldn't help but feel grateful for the love and support I have in my life. And as Jay's steady breathing filled the room again, I knew that he was right—he wasn't going anywhere. We were in this for the long haul, and together, we can face anything.

[multifandomfanatic02]

For a one shot, if you do x reader, then Alastor x sex repulsed ace reader? Maybe while they’re alive, and they meet because reader has something to do with radio broadcasting? I don’t think I’ve seen any one shots that cover that side of alastor and I’ll always request Alastor lmao

Ooo I love doing human Alastor! It wasn't until I saw everyone's similar hc fanart of human Alastor that I found him so attractive.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Paring : human!Alastor x reader

Summary : Alastor never really found much comfort in other's presence. That is until he met you and the soothing voice that accompanied you.

───

Alastor was a well-known radio host in the beautiful city of New Orleans, Louisiana. Which meant that his show had a large audience along with many guests applying to be on his show. His favorite thing to broadcast was the local Jazz bands and singers. He wasn't much for talking to the guests though, the man kept to himself. The one time he tried to connect with a guest was with a poorly timed pun in which the guest just looked at him stupid. Never again. Well... until he met you.

Your popularity in your beloved hometown was building up quickly. At first you were just a singer in a church choir. However over time all your friends and family believed you were wasting your talent just singing in a church. Never has anyone heard such an angelic voice. Taking their advice, you began to sing from pubs and restaurants to minor radio shows.

After a while you yourself got a bit of a following, people came from nearby cities to hear you sing. You had a unique talent that sensed the listener's emotion and corporated the feelings into your song whether it be love, heartbreak, grief, or joy. And everytime, the audience was sent to tears.

Eventually your reputation finally reached Alastor's ears. He had all kinds of requests from fans to have you on his show. It was a first for him. So of course he followed through and managed to get into contact with you. It wasn't hard really, in fact it seems your home phone number was attached to every possible pub in town.

One week. In one week would you be singing for the most popular radio host in Louisiana. It was a a dream. Your career would finally be taking it's first huge step. Every night since the show started, you have listened in. You were a big fan and all the bands that have been including in his episodes turned out to be famous in the long run. Somewhat anyway.

The night had finally came and all you brought with you was a guitar. It's all you needed. Singing was great but writing music was your real passion. Being able to sing is just a bonus.

"My name is Alastor. It's a pleasure to meet you, dear. Quite a pleasure. Your reputation precedes you." He takes your hand in his, kneeling a little to kiss the your knuckles.

"The pleasure is all mine really. My name is, Y/N. I've been looking forward to meeting you myself." You took one side of your dress in between your fingers and curtsied, steadily holding the guitar in the other.

"Well dear let's not keep our folks waiting any longer then!" He sets up a stool and microphone on the mini-stage behind him, gesturing you to sit down for taking his seat st his desk in front of you. He obviously wasn't interested in any small talk but his moods weren't that hard to read. As you started playing your guitar, you took everything he was feeling into account.

His face remained away from you but you could feel his tense body starting to relax. Your voice soothed him to a point of shock. He had never heard anyone more beautiful. All the sorrow and loneliness he's been feeling is flowing through his ears like she had just listened to his own heart. His own breath caught in his throat, forming a lump.

Gentle and quiet tears streamed down his face as he remembered the best memories of his mother whom had just recently died. While his eyes stayed had been on you for quite some time now, a smile began to form on his cheeks. He wiped the tears away before clapping upon the end of the song. He held his hand out to you, allowing you to take a step down from the stage.

"That was amazing, Y/N." He took a deep breath to compose himself. "Say.. would you like to come back next week? I believe everyone will agree when I say we need more of your voice." He says handing you his card with his personal phone number on it.

"And please feel free to call me for anything you may need. Even if it's just for a coffee." He says with a wink.

───

a/n- i know it's not exactly what was requested but I hope you like it anyway 💗 🙏

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Home Sweet Home AU: Shepherd's Tone

(TW: Religious Trauma, blood/gore/injury, animal death, body/face horror, unhealthy friendships/familial issues.)

"I can't make myself look at it. but She needs me to see what I have done.

Like a deer in headlights, I can see what is coming for me."

Word count: 10'586

Notes: Not much to say for this one. just heed the warnings and enjoy :)

Mark had been staring at his bedroom ceiling for around an hour. His blanket had fallen off of his messy bed a while ago, leaving him exposed to the cool air of the room around him, though he didn’t once attempt to lean over and pick it back up. His eyes blankly stared upward as he laid in the dark, seeing the dim light from downstairs shining from the stairs and barely illuminating the cracked open door leading out of his room. He remained still, taking in a deep breath as he continued to hear the words from the living room underneath him.

He couldn’t make out any proper words of course, considering the floor between him and his parents’ conversation dampened the noise enough to make what they were saying sound muffled and barely decipherable, though Mark couldn’t help but feel his heart wrench whenever he made out the few words his brain was able to process. “Mark,” “help,” “therapy,” and “Wrong” were among them, though Mark could tell by the aggravated and worried tones of their voices that there was more to it than just that. Were they aware Mark could hear them? Or were they just oblivious, hoping the son they were talking about wouldn’t notice and they could simply go back to pretending nothing bad is going on in the morning. Either option made Mark feel sick in his stomach, and he wasn’t sure if tears would come out first, or if the urge to scream and shout at them about how he felt would beat it.

Mark chose to cry.

August 12th, 1992. 2:13 AM

Mark was quiet as he walked out of his room, carefully approaching the stairway as he clutched the single remaining strap of his worn out backpack. He quietly walked down the stairs, soon finding himself in the living room as he looked around, pointing his flashlight around the room as an attempt not to use the main light and blow his cover. He let out a soft breath when he saw nothing there before he quickly approached the front door, opening it before leaving the house, locking the door with his spare key before he ran towards his car.

It had been nearly an hour since he heard his parents stop talking and go to bed, yet he could still feel tears trying to fall down his cheeks as he swung open the car door and hopped inside, tossing his bag into the passenger seat. He took in a deep, shaky breath before he started the car, wincing at the sound of the engine starting up and the lights flicking on and shining brightly on the front of the house. As soon as he heard the loud sound and saw the bright lights, he muttered curses to himself, all before he backed out of the driveway as quickly as he could and drove down the road.

He had done this before; multiple times in fact, though his heart still pounded with something he figured was his anxiety creeping up on him, or the frustration he felt deep inside. They didn’t understand, and Mark doubted they would ever understand him, with his father especially feeling as though he didn’t believe a single word Mark said. Mark glanced at his radio, turning up the volume as he drove down the road, his headlights illuminating the nearby forest that ran down both sides of the asphalt. As he listened to the music, he tried nervously humming along, grasping his steering wheel even tighter.

He prayed for a sign that night, just a single sign from God himself to let him know he wasn’t going out of his fucking mind. However, all of his prayers remained unanswered, making his increasing dread in his chest all the worse as the days turned into months. He didn’t even notice that tears were forming in his eyes, nor did he understand why that was the case as they ran down his acne-ridden cheeks. Why? Why him? Why did he of all people have to have this happen to him? He can’t handle this kind of stress, with the fact that no one believed him making everything feel like an unbearable weight on his shoulders. No, he wasn’t losing touch with God, like Arthur seemed to think; if anything, it felt like God was losing touch with him.

Mark felt his knuckles ache with the amount of force he was applying to the worn leather steering wheel, jaw clenched and shoulders tight. Why did Cesar’s House have to be so far away? Why did his parents choose a house outside of town? His drive to school was 45 minutes long, maybe even longer if it’s icy out. God fucking damn it, was it always this fucking cold in the car? Was the shirt he was wearing always that scratchy? Oh God, he couldn’t just hold himself together for five minutes? Why was he crying so damn much? Why was the music louder than he set it at? Why was everything SO FUCKING LOUD-?

A deer was in the road in front of him.

Mark snapped out of his thinking to grab the wheel, swinging it to the side the best he could, though it appeared to be a tad too late. His car slammed against the deer, his wheels screeching against the asphalt as he skidded to a stop in the middle of the road. He froze, his breathing frantic and his mind blank as he shut off his radio and leaned back in his seat, muttering various curses under his breath as he tried to process what just happened. He took in a few deep, shaky breaths before he hesitantly reached for the door’s handle, stepping outside and into the dark road.

“Don’t be alive, don’t be alive, please don’t be alive…” Mark muttered under his breath, clasping his necklace in his hand as he walked In front of his car, seeing the smear of blood and chunks of fur stuck in the grill. “O-Oh…God…” He could only hope the deer died on impact, with the thought he was going to see a half maimed, yet still living animal In front of him making him feel nauseous. He walked through the headlights beams, looking behind the car to see the deer on the side of the road, somewhat lit up by the taillights of the vehicle. Mark took in a deep breath, hesitating before walking towards what looked like a corpse. As he got closer, he fought off the urge to gag at the sight of the large gash on the side of the deer, with its ribs buckled in. Mark was at least glad to see that it appeared to be dead, with its one remaining right antler dug in the dirt by the road and its eyes glazed over. Mark stepped back, staring at the animal as his body shook, still recovering from the shock of the accident. He forced himself to take in a breath, preparing to turn back and continue his drive.

He froze, however, when he began to hear the deer making noise.

He turned back, seeing the deer’s head tilting upward, its vocalizations sounding close to an elk, though choked and gurgling. It groaned and let out bellows as Mark stared at it with horror, with its sounds becoming less natural as the seconds ticked by. It sounded as if it was attempting to speak with vocal chords it didn’t have, sounding out certain parts of words Mark couldn’t identify. M’s, O’s, and Ah sounds came from it; a horrid cascade of animal sounds that were attempting so hard to speak like a human, as if it was so desperate to tell Mark something, but was physically incapable of doing so. It screeched and bellowed, Mark stepping back with every single vocalization until it abruptly stopped. Its head slammed against the dirt as it puked up what appeared to be veins, blood running out of its mouth and onto the cool grass as it became still and silent.

The sounds of the crickets from the woods, along with the sound of the engine running were all the sounds he could hear, with the horrid “speaking” ceasing. Mark stared at the deer, stumbling back as he grasped his necklace, muttering a small prayer under his breath before he ran back to his car and hopped inside, driving away as soon as he shut the door behind him and not looking back.

3:12 AM

Cesar was lying in bed asleep when he heard the knock at his front door. He stirred awake, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to process whether the sound was even real before he heard a more rapid set of knocking, causing him to groan and force himself up. He sat up, rubbing his face as he placed his feet onto the carpet and walked out of his room. “I’m coming, I’m coming…” He stated before hearing more knocks. “Dude, just wait a single minute, jeez…”

He walked into the living room, stepping onto the cold tile in front of the door, wincing slightly at how cold it was before opening the door. He tiredly looked through the doorway before his eyes widened slightly. “…Mark?”

“…H-Hey—”

“Do you know what fucking time it is?”

“Yeah, I…I do.”

“Then what are you doing here?” Cesar questioned. “We have school tomorrow—”

“I…Look I just…n…need to talk.”

Cesar glared at Mark with a tired, blank expression. “…Talk over the phone.” Cesar went to shut the door, being stopped by Mark, who grabbed the door with his hand.

“Wait, please, I…” Mark paused for a second, feeling Cesar’s irritated stare even as he looked away. “…I need to stay here tonight, okay? I…I promise I won’t be trouble.”

Cesar remained silent for a second, seemingly thinking before he let out a deep sigh. He relented, stepping out of the way and opening the door. “…You’re sleeping on the couch.”

“That’s fine.” Mark walked into the home, grasping onto his torn backpack tightly before throwing it onto the couch as Cesar sighed and shut the front door.

“Mama’s gonna ask why you’re here,” Cesar said as he approached the archway that led into the kitchen. “And when she does, just…tell her…”

“I will.”

Cesar turned back before pausing, standing still before muttering something, sounding as though the words got caught in his throat for a second. “Y…You can’t…we can’t keep doing this.”

“…What did you say?” Mark asked, not catching what Cesar said.

Cesar appeared to hesitate before responding. “…I said goodnight, we’ll…talk tomorrow.” With that, Cesar left to go to bed, leaving Mark by himself, not even giving him a blanket or pillow. Mark sat in the dark living room in silence, sitting on the couch as he attempted to stop his hands from shaking so much. He clasped his knees, rubbing the denim of his pants as he stared at the ground in front of him, attempting to think of anything aside from the haunting image of the deer splayed out with gore dripping from its mouth. He laid down on the couch, crossing his arms and resting his head on the arm rest, hoping his sweatshirt and jeans would be enough to keep him warm for the night, not even bothering to take off his shoes before he stared forward, lightly rubbing his metal cross before closing his eyes, deciding to try and get some sleep.

??:??

Mark found himself walking down a damp road, looking up at the starless sky to see that it was completely black; past midnight. He stumbled down the asphalt road, barely able to see much of anything through the darkness around him, only able to make out a faint set of red lights in the distance that slowly got closer as he walked towards it. The closer he got the more he made out the vehicle, with the red lights being its taillights. It looked like his car, though its wheels seemed to have melded to the asphalt, throwing out the option of using the car to drive wherever Mark was going, the answer of which he wasn’t even sure of. He walked around the car, seeing that its headlights were shining forward onto something on the road, being something that made Mark’s stomach churn; the body of a deer.

It writhed on the ground, veins hanging from its rapidly salivating mouth, its ribs broken and legs bent. Its oddly human looking eye stared up at Mark as he approached, its mouth opening and jaw twitching as it let out unholy sounds once again. It sounded closer to human speech than before, it “speaking” urgently through its bellows of pain, though once again the words never reached Mark’s ears.

Mark stepped back away from the deer, listening to its vague “words” before he turned back towards the road, wondering if he could manage to hitchhike home. However, he only walked a few feet before he paused abruptly, and covering his mouth as nausea hit him like a freight train. He hunched over in the middle of the road, attempting to throw up something but being unable to get it out, choking and gagging as he clawed at his throat. Blood began to pour out of his nose and the corners of his mouth as he struggled. He felt something clogging up his throat, making it hard to breathe or even choke out a single yell for help before he finally coughed up whatever was stuck into his hands.

Veins; he could feel their pulse still.

He coughed up blood and viscera onto the asphalt below him, eyes watering and staring in horror as he tried to get it out, but being unsuccessful with every attempt. He stepped back further, hearing a loud pulsing in his head as he did so, panicking as he began to hear faint screams, both from the deer and from other things he couldn’t identify. His breaths were becoming nothing more but pained gurgling and gasps, his throat burning and his insides aching. His sweatshirt was stained a deep crimson from the veins hanging from his agape mouth, and his confusion, deep pain and nausea only grew in intensity before he froze. A loud honk of a horn sounded beside him, with him looking to his left, only to see a set of headlights speeding towards him, hitting his bloodied, trembling form.

He awoke abruptly on the couch, splayed out across it as he took in a breath. Blood had streamed down his face from his nose, staining his face and dripping onto his clothes. He couldn’t even process that he was awake before he covered his mouth, sitting up before scrambling out of the living room, down the hallway, and into the bathroom, promptly puking into the toilet. He threw up what appeared to be deep-red bile, with him being too disoriented to even process it before he leaned away from the toilet, resting his back against the bathroom counter as he stared forward blankly, holding his hand on his chest as he felt around for his necklace, feeling his heart pound when he realized it was no longer there.

He stood up, flushing the toilet before rushing out of the bathroom, looking at the floor to try and find the missing necklace. He reached the living room before he threw around his things in an attempt to find it, only failing to do so and feeling his chest tighten. “No, no no no no no NO—” He muttered frantically before stopping abruptly, staring forward when he finally saw the necklace, seeing that it was dangling off of the top of one of the clock’s carved in “wings”.

Mark paused, staring at the necklace that was slightly swaying from its spot on the edge of the wooden wing as he approached it. He looked up at it, holding his arm up, with it just barely out of reach as he tried to retrieve the golden cross—

GONG.

GONG.

GONG.

GONG.

GONG.

The sound of the clock made Mark yell and fall backwards, staring up at the clock’s face, holding onto his necklace tightly before he scrambled to his feet, running out of the room and swinging open the front door of the House, not even remembering to grab his backpack as he slammed the door shut and ran to his car, driving away as soon as he started it. As he drove away, he attempted to ignore how he could’ve sworn the “wing” the necklace was hanging off of twitched and shook the necklace off of itself. It was just his imagination, right? He hoped so, anyway.

7:15 AM

Cesar stared at the drops of blood he found on the bathroom floor in silence. He wasn’t sure why they were there, or why they seemed to trail into the hallway as well, though the sight was unnerving enough for him to back out of the room and gently close the door most of the way. Cesar had thrown on a simple black T-shirt with a faded design on it, along with blue jeans, all before opening his bedroom closet and grabbing a plain gray hoodie and his backpack. He walked out of his bedroom, feeling his exhaustion creeping up on him despite him getting a decent night’s sleep, aside from the interruption that made him stay up for 30 more minutes. He walked into the living room, sitting down on the couch with a sigh, attempting to rub the tiredness from his eyes as he waited. He continued to sit in silence for a bit until his mind finally clicked something together: Where was Mark?

Cesar had realized that he hadn’t seen Mark since he woke up, or even heard his mother mention him when they ate breakfast. If nothing else, he should’ve been on the couch, yet he wasn’t. He must’ve gone home early, Cesar supposed, sighing with a tinge of annoyance with the realization that him coming over that early in the morning was therefore pointless. However, as he thought to himself, he glanced down at the ground, pausing as his eyes hit something; Mark’s worn out backpack.

The bag itself was hanging on by a single remaining strap, of which was held by a few frayed threads and some pieces of duct tape. It looked as if Mark hadn’t gotten a new one since he was in middle school, or was simply extremely reckless with it. Either way, Cesar reached towards it, grabbing its strap and, against his better judgment and worry of being caught looking through another’s things, he unzipped it to see its contents.

The first thing he saw was, of course, a pair of clothes, being a worn out shirt and blue jeans, but after pushing them to the side, he saw what was buried underneath them; a bible, a notebook, and a couple pencils. Cesar grabbed the notebook, pulling it out and staring at it for a second. Was he really going to look through someone’s personal journal? His curiosity was killing him, and as his hand absentmindedly reached for the cover, he glanced up at the clock, seeing it was only 7:21. He had time.

9:35 AM

The bells rang in the school’s halls, Mark flinching at the noise as he opened his locker, dumping his books into the rest of the mess in there, stopping things from falling out with his arms before slamming the door shut. He stood still for a moment, looking around at the rest of the students talking and walking to their lockers to get ready for the next class, catching the eye of a couple of them. The eye contact never lasted long it seemed, with the other person looking away as soon as they realized who they’re looking at. Mark didn’t blame them; he knew he wasn’t looking the greatest, and his glare was hard enough to cut glass, though at that point, with how exhausted he was, he couldn’t care less. He just needed to get this school day done with—

“Hey.”

Mark looked to his right, seeing Cesar standing close by, staring at him. Mark sighed, figuring he was going to ask where he went last night, or why he was there to begin with, so preparing to have that conversation, Mark responded, “Hey, look I…I need to stop over again after school, I forgot to grab my b…” Mark’s voice trailed off as he looked down, seeing what was hanging from Cesar’s hand; his backpack. “…bag.”

“Just take it.” Cesar held the bag up to Mark, who hesitantly grasped it and held it close before opening his locker once again.

“…Th…Thanks.” Mark said quietly, coughing before quickly shifting his leg to block off the opening of the locker as a pile of loose papers and books nearly spilled out as he placed the bag on the hook over them.

“Look, do you hate me or not?”

Mark paused at the question, turning towards Cesar with a confused look on his face. He wasn’t sure if he even heard the question right before responding. “…I d…what do you mean?”

“…I…” Cesar appeared to pause for a moment, gesturing vaguely at the backpack before looking up at Mark. “…I read your journal and saw what…you were saying about me.”

Mark stared at Cesar, stepping away from his locker and letting everything fall out onto the ground. “What?”

“I was curious, alright? I shouldn’t have done it but I really just needed to kno—”

“Why did you do that?”

“Look, I—”

Mark stepped forward, staring down at Cesar with a look that could kill. “Why the FUCK did you look in there?” Mark questioned as he grew closer, ignoring the bell that was ringing behind him.

“Dude, calm down!” Cesar said. “…I just don’t get why you can’t just say this shit to my face.”

“What kind of fucking friend are you?”

“What kind of friend are you?” Cesar snapped back. “You talk about me like I’m a piece of shit that doesn’t care about anything but myself!”

Mark stared at Cesar with a rising fury as he continued. “‘He just doesn’t listen to me, he’s ignoring everything I say,’ As if I haven’t been listening to you since we met.” Cesar spat. “If anything, I’m probably the only person that does listen to you.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Mark fists clenched.

“Do you hear what you’re saying half of the time?!” Cesar questioned. “You keep saying weird shit then acting like you didn’t say anything right after! I can only handle so much Mark, I can’t keep listening to your ramblings otherwise I’d go insane too—”

Mark clasped onto Cesar’s shoulders and swung him around, slamming him against the lockers as he stared into Cesar’s eyes. Cesar’s half angry, half concerned look turned to fright as Mark’s hands clasped onto his shoulders hard enough to make them sting, thumbs digging into his collar bones and fingernails digging into his skin. Mark stared at Cesar in silence, jaw clenched and nose beginning to bleed before his furious gaze suddenly vanished, with Mark grasp lessening before they both heard something down the hall:

“HEATHCLIFF!”

Mark’s head snapped around, seeing one of the teachers staring at the two as Mark backed away. The teacher appeared furious before she continued; “I expect you to be in the principal’s office by the end of the day.”

Cesar rubbed his sore shoulder before looking at Mark, who was staring at the teacher like a deer in headlights, his hands tense and fingers twitching. Mark glared at Cesar from the side of his eye, clasping his hands together as if he just needed to squeeze something very hard. However, the fury was gone from his stare, replaced with a look of fear, for a reason Cesar was unsure of. Either way, Cesar couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if the teacher didn’t step in, and wondered how close Mark’s hands would’ve gotten to his neck before he stopped.

All Cesar knew was that he could barely even recognize who he was staring at when they made eye contact.

Mark sat outside of the principal’s office, his leg bouncing and his elbows planted on his knees as he stared at the linoleum floor. Every other student had already left, leaving him by himself in a silent hall. He could hear his mother and the principal speaking through the door, only barely muffled by the wall and door itself, allowing him to make out a part of their conversation:

“These outbursts appear to be…getting more common, Mrs. Heathcliff, and I’m simply worried of them getting only more violent if something isn’t done soon.”

“I…I understand that.” Leah stated, her voice soft as usual. “He’s…he’s a good young man, I-I don’t…I don’t know why he would react like that towards a friend, I mean…Cesar and Mark have been joined at the hip since they were children, I don’t understand why he’d suddenly become so…aggressive.”

“I understand your concern. However, if these behaviors continue, then I’m…afraid action will have to be taken.”

“What kind of action?”

“Suspension, to…possible expulsion from the Mandela County school system.”

“…You can’t be serious.” Leah’s voice quivered as she spoke.

“Of course, expulsion is only for extreme measures, and at this point, I don’t believe it will be necessary, though I’m only warning you that behaviors like these can lead to only more problems later on. Have you…spoken to him about this before?”

“…I…suppose not.”

“I’d recommend you start. Your child appears troubled, Ma’am, and I feel the best course of action is consulting his councilor and speaking to him personally. I understand now is…a hard time for everyone, and I’ve seen my fair share of students being put under extreme stress due to these unprecedented events, and I believe Mark is a similar case.”

“I understand.”

“Thank you for coming in today, ma’am. I’m…hoping this will be the last time we have a conversation like this.”

“…I do too.”

Mark waited a little while longer, no longer paying attention as he blankly stared at the ground, all before the door opened beside him and he looked up, only to see his mother’s face staring back at him.

“You alright?” Leah asked softly.

Mark remained silent, the guilty look in his eyes answering for him.

“…I have work in a little while, do you want to come with me?”

Mark looked away for a moment; did he really want to spend the rest of the day at the library? He thought about it before looking back up at his mother’s face, the sad gaze she was giving him making him decide before he nodded in silence. If it made his mom happy, he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to spend some time finding books to read. If nothing else, it was a quiet environment he could stay in as he recovered from how overwhelmed he felt. Leah smiled softly before Mark stood up, with her standing by Mark’s side as they left the school, finally putting an end to Mark’s horrid school day.

The drive to the library was a silent one, Leah occasionally pointing out things, like stores already putting things up for Halloween despite it being a couple months away, or waving to someone she recognized from church. She talked to Mark, not expecting or needing a response from him, just making sure he was listening by glancing at him every once in a while. Mark simply looked out the window, seeing it was a cloudy, gray day outside, looking as if it was about to rain. It was dreary outside, though Mark didn’t mind that much; just gave him an excuse to stay inside.

Leah led Mark into the large library in the middle of downtown when they arrived there, Mark looking around the expansive, two-floored library with a neutral look on his face. He had been there a few times before, learning that it had been constructed a long time ago from Leah, though the old architecture was somewhat obvious when he saw how worn out some things were. He looked around and saw that there was barely anyone there aside from a couple of people at the computers or walking around, browsing the books on the shelves.

“Alright, if you need anything you can just come get me at the front desk,” Leah said quietly, turning to face Mark. “If I’m not there, I went to go tend to something and won’t be gone long, alright? You’re free to do anything here, just…please don’t get into trouble.”

Mark nodded quietly, with Leah smiling softly before turning and walking away, leaving Mark by himself to figure out a way to entertain himself. He put his hands into his sweatshirt pocket, beginning to look around, his tired eyes looking over the books as he tried to find anything of interest to him. He read title, after title, after another title, seeing none that piqued his interest whatsoever. In fact, most of the ones that he recognized were because he had read them in class before, made to write a book report on them despite most of them being boring and predictable. That or he had already read most of them on his own time, like most of the books from Stephen King. He couldn’t even remember the amount of times he’s read “The Shining”, or watched the movie of the same name, basically able to recite everything that happens in both by heart. 

He sighed, walking out of the aisle and towards a small table he saw against one of the walls, one that had a printer on it, available for anyone to use. He walked towards it, opening the printer and grabbing a few pieces of paper from it before shutting it once again, all before grabbing a pencil that was on the desk and walking towards one of the tables in the middle of the room. However, he paused, glancing at something on the wall before he stopped walking, staring at it for a while. On the wall was a public cork board, one that anyone could paste whatever they wanted onto it to promote an event or anything of the sort. One of the papers on it drew his attention however, seemingly pasted over a pile of similar papers.

It was a missing poster for a young man, who seemed to be named “Michael Richards.” The picture was of a man with a short, low ponytail, and an open hoodie with colored sleeves, the color of which Mark was unsure of due to the photo being in black and white. He couldn’t see anything below the mid-torso area, though Mark was more focused on the face of him. The face nor the name rang a bell in Mark’s mind, though the sight of him smiling widely, seeming to be having fun despite his face being plastered on a missing poster made a pit form in Mark’s gut. A face of happiness on something that was basically a public death certificate for the Mandela area.

Mark shook off the sudden chill up his spine before continuing his walk to the tables, sitting down and placing the blank papers in front of him, staring at them with his pencil in hand as he thought of something to draw. He rested his head on his free hand, staring at the blank page in silence as he absentmindedly scratched his head. He felt as though he was being watched, hunching over his papers as if he was scared someone was watching him doodle from right behind him. Mark glanced around, seeing that no one was even close to him, nor paying him any attention, so he let out a sigh and began to draw.

A few hours had passed, and Mark threw yet another crumpled up paper ball into the trash, with his left hand stained with graphite. He sighed deeply, walking towards the front desk to see Leah speaking with someone on the other side of it. Mark waited for their conversation to be over, resting his arms on the tall desk as he looked around. He was starting to feel hungry, most likely due to him skipping breakfast that morning, despite his mother cooking for them. He looked out of the front doors of the building, seeing that the sky was already beginning to turn orange as evening approached. He stared outside blankly, looking at nothing in particular before Leah spoke.

“You alright?”

Mark looked back to see Leah was looking at him with a slightly concerned look on her face. He nodded before Leah spoke again. “You want to go home?” she asked softly.

Mark nodded again.

“Alright, I’m going to be here for another few hours, but I’ll call home and see if your father can come pick you up,” Leah reached towards  one of the phones on the desk before looking back up at Mark, who had a look of disappointment on his face. “…you know what? How about I see if I…can get off a little early tonight. Maybe we can do something like…play a board game or something. Does that sound alright to you?”

Mark glanced to the side, thinking to himself for a while. His true plan was to go home, get some quick dinner then go to bed, even if he wasn’t necessarily looking forward to yet another night of night terrors. He looked back to Leah, nodding slightly once again, causing a faint smile to form on her face. “Alright. I’ll go ahead and call Arthur then.” She stated. Mark started to walk away, though Leah stopped him by speaking once again. “One more thing…” Mark turned to face her, seeing she was smiling, though it was a sort of sad smile. “…Thank you for staying here with me. I think it’s good for you to get out and around like this, you know?”

Mark didn’t respond, looking at the ground and nodding slightly before walking away. He wasn’t necessarily looking forward to the ride home that would most certainly involve his father berating him for his school mishap, though at least he had a couple hours of peace and hopefully more when he got home.

9:15 PM

Mark stared blankly into the living room from the kitchen, leaning against the wall as he watched Leah and Sarah playing with building blocks on the carpet. He could feel his exhaustion creeping up on him, judging by the heavy eyelids and the foggy mind. He would’ve gone up to his room by then, sleeping the night away until morning came, but something was keeping him up, whether it was his fear of nightmares or his insomnia. He supposed it didn’t matter either way; if he was going to stay up, he might as well accept it.

He opened the fridge door, digging through everything in there before grabbing an energy drink he had hidden in there. He looked at it, standing up straight before closing the fridge door. He jumped, startled by the sight of his father standing there, staring at him before looking down and seeing the can in Mark’s hand.

“…You know those aren’t good for you.” He stated. “They’re bad for your heart.”

“…Y…Yeah, I know.”

“Just…don’t get in the habit of drinking those.” Arthur sighed.

“I won’t.” Mark turned to go upstairs, Arthur watching him before speaking again.

“Oh, before you go,” Arthur called. “The trash needs to be taken out, could you do that? I need to get some bills paid.”

Mark looked at Arthur, one step on the first stair before he sighed and stepped back down. “…Yeah I…can do that.”

“Good. Though don’t be out there for too long,” Arthur stated. “People have been hearing what sounds like a bear around here.”

“There aren’t bears around here…” Leah said. “It’s probably one of the neighbor’s dogs.”

“Either way, just get it done, alright?”

“Mm-hm.” Mark placed the can on the kitchen table before brushing past Arthur and towards the trash can. He tied up the trash bag, pulling it out and lugging it over his shoulder, hoping nothing spilled out or broke as he approached the back door.

It was already getting dark, with the sky being a deep blue, near fully black. He couldn’t see much past the back porch light as he stepped out onto the concrete, looking around before spotting the trashcan right to the side of the porch, on the other side of the wooden railing. He sighed, taking one last quick glance around his dark backyard before opening the small gate and stepping onto the damp grass. He whistled to himself as he opened the garbage can’s lid and threw the bag into it, hearing it thump against the bottom of the plastic bin.

He wiped his hands on his pants as he walked around the porch, placing his hand on the gate to open it before he paused, feeling a more intense feeling of being watched than he felt in the library, making his blood run cold. He looked behind him, into the trees, but saw nothing but darkness and whatever overgrown plants were there past the yard line. He turned to his right, seeing the empty road, also seeing nothing. He turned to his left and—

There was a face staring back at him from the tree line.

Mark couldn’t move as he stared at the Figure in his yard; a monochrome man in a jacket with colored sleeves and a black shirt, with its dark hair tied back. Its face however was what made Mark’s heart pound, seeing two large, near completely black eyes aside from the small hints of white staring back at him from the dark. Its gaping maw was impossibly wide open, its eerily white teeth the only thing visible in the blackness. It was only the top half of the body, and Mark could see its organs hanging from the bottom half of its torso, and its arm bones and veins hanging from torn arm stumps, bloodying its clothes and bleeding onto the grass below it, hovering as if it still had legs to stand on.

Mark stared at it with wide eyes, unable to look away as if he was trapped in some kind of trance. It didn’t seem to be moving, or at least on a passing glance, though Mark could tell the longer he stared that it was ever so slowly approaching, its face unchanging. Mark finally shook off his sudden paralysis, swinging open the gate and scrambling onto the porch, locking the gate behind him before lunging towards the back door. He fumbled with the doorknob, finding that it was locked, as if it was jammed. He slammed his hand against the door, screaming for someone to open it before turning back towards where he saw the Figure, only to find that the yard was empty once again. He froze, silently searching for the Figure before he turned around fully.

Its two beady eyes stared back at Mark from the other side of the porch, its head twitching ever so slightly as its gaze never once moved away from Mark’s cowering form. Mark backed away, staring at the Figure as he tried to do anything aside from stand in one place, despite his legs turning into jelly. He stared into the thing’s eyes; its unblinking, unmoving eyes. Mark’s eyes watered and his throat was too tight to even let out a sob before his eyelids suddenly felt as heavy as elephants.

Then he fell asleep.

Mark couldn’t process what his parents were saying when he woke up, hearing them somewhere in the room with him, with them speaking in hushed, worried tones to each other. Mark hadn’t yet opened his eyes, but he could gather that he was lying on the living room couch, with what felt like an ice pack on his head. Perhaps the ice pack was a good call, considering the throbbing pain he felt in his skull. He overheard his mother talking to his father, seemingly contemplating taking Mark to the hospital; as if he hadn’t gone there enough already. Mark winced slightly at yet another sharp pain in his head before he finally opened his eyes, being greeted by Arthur standing at the end of the couch, one hand on the back of it as he looked at Leah, who was in a chair to the side of said couch.

“Mark!” Leah all but jumped out of her seat when she finally saw Mark’s eyes were open, kneeling by the couch and lightly caressing Mark’s head. “Are you alright? What happened?”

Mark couldn’t even get an answer out, with any words he could say becoming lodged in his throat. Instead, he let out a groggy “I don’t know”, not even attempting to make his voice loud enough to hear it clearly.

“W-We found you on the porch, just passed out I-I thought something happened to you—” Leah covered her mouth, taking in a deep breath as she suppressed her urge to cry. “Do you remember anything?”

Mark stared blankly at Leah, thinking hard as he slowly sat up, wincing when he felt his headache come back. After a few moments, he began speaking: “I was…taking out the trash ‘nd…” Mark said quietly. “I…I w…”

The Figure’s gaze pierced his soul when he remembered it.

“…I don’t know, I…think I just…passed out.”

“Leah…” Arthur said softly. “I think you should…go get some rest.”

“I…I’m fine.” Leah said, her voice wavering slightly. “Just a…a little…I…”

“Sarah needs to be taken to bed anyway.” Arthur said. “I think you need some time to…calm down.”

Leah sighed, looking at Mark before kissing his forehead and walking away, grabbing Sarah’s arm as she led her upstairs, Mark seeing Sarah was looking at him as they walked away. Mark stared at the stairway for a few moments as Arthur sat on the chair by the couch, sighing deeply as he did so.

“…What did you see out there?”

Mark looked at Arthur with furrowed brows and a confused look on his face.

“You’ve…mentioned seeing things lately, but you never said what.” Arthur continued. “What have you been seeing?”

Mark’s stare alone questioned why Arthur needed to know that.

“…You know, sometimes people are given visions.” Arthur stated. “Many of God’s prophets were given these visions or…messages to give to the people of this world. Sometimes they seem…vague, or confusing or…even frightening to some, but they have to…mean something. So I just want to know…what you have been experiencing. Because…it’s possible God’s trying to…speak through you.”

“…I d…I don’t think it’s God, Dad.” Mark muttered, lightly rubbing his necklace with his thumb.

“There’s a possibility it could be.” Arthur said, leaning forward. “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

Mark looked at the ground blankly, thinking of what he could say or do before he closed his eyes for a moment. “…I was driving t…to Cesar’s house last night.” Mark started. “I just…w…wanted to…to stay the night, but when I was driving I…I hit a…deer.”

“…I see.” Arthur figured that explained the stains and fur on the front of the car. “…What about this?”

“…I checked on the deer and…” Mark paused, thinking carefully, staring at the floor with an unblinking stare. “…It wasn’t dead.”

Arthur simply nodded, his brows somewhat furrowing.

“…It tried speaking to me.” Mark said in a monotone voice. “…Vomiting out its organs and veins. Attempting to talk to me with vocal chords it didn’t have. It wanted to speak to me. It needed to give me a message, but was incapable of doing so.”

Arthur sat up and leaned back in his seat, mouth open slightly as Mark continued.

“I saw it in a dream the same night. Its words were clearer but they still never reached my ears.” Mark droned. “I felt them…crawling under my skin. Veins pushing themselves out of my body; choking me. All-encompassing agony. A mind running with thoughts that didn’t belong to me. My misery was only ended by the sight of two headlights coming towards me.”

Mark shook his head slightly, finally blinking and rubbing his dried out eyes. “…And then I…woke up. I had t…to vomit after that dream, and I just f-felt so…sick. I went home right after.”

Mark looked up to see Arthur staring at him with widened eyes, stuck in a stunned silence before he gestured towards his nose. Mark stared at Arthur with confusion before he began to taste blood, feeling something warm running out of one of his nostrils. “O-Oh…shit.” Mark stood up, immediately heading to the bathroom and closing the door behind him. Arthur watched him leave, unable to speak as his hands trembled slightly. He could barely put his own thoughts together, only recognizing a deep feeling of dread within him that he hasn’t felt before.

Maybe Mark was right; it didn’t sound like God was the one speaking to his son.

August 13th, 1992. 2:12 AM

Mark laid on his side, curled up in the middle of it in the fetal position as he held his necklace in his hand, using his other arm to lightly rub his opposite shoulder. His family had fallen asleep hours ago, seemingly without much effort, though Mark appeared to not have been blessed with such a thing. He stared forward, not at anything in particular, his green eyes staring into the darkness visible through the cracked open bedroom door, not once looking away. He shook slightly, both from the lack of a blanket over him and the discomfort in his body, feeling as if his insides itched and couldn’t be scratched.

He realized it was silly to be afraid of the dark, especially as a near legal adult that ditched his nightlight when he was 10, though his mind didn’t seem to think so. Flashes of that thing’s face appeared in his mind, imagining it staring back at him from the hallway, waiting for him to fall asleep. Mark’s bloodshot eyes were beginning to become dried out from his unblinking stare, stinging enough to make him tear up before he finally closed them for a moment, opening them back up right after, seeing that the door was open further than it was. Mark let out a panicked gasp, sitting up and scrambling for his flashlight on his nightstand, turning it on to see that nothing was in the hallway, yet the door creaked open slowly before stopping entirely. His breathing was harsh before he managed to calm himself down, deciding it was best to go then instead of later.

Mark stood up, shambling around his room, kicking away trash and piles of clothes before standing in the doorway, looking down the dark hall before sneaking towards the stairway. He quietly walked down the carpeted stairs, into the living room, and towards the front door, looking back at his house as he reached for the doorknob, pausing for a moment before opening the door and leaving the house without a word and without a thought.

The drive to Cesar’s house was a quiet one, with Mark not even bothering to turn on the radio, with only his thoughts keeping him company along with the gentle sound of the AC. He stared forward blankly, unmoving and silent, eyes darting around the dark woods to the sides of the road, searching for the reflected lights of an animal’s eyes. Yet, that night appeared more silent and empty than it was before, with no surprise buck there to hit. However, he half expected to see the slowly decaying corpse of the deer he hit the previous night, though he never saw one, even as he passed by the spot he hit it at; another animal must have gotten to it. The food chain was still in effect despite the rest of the world falling apart, it appeared.

The town was as empty as usual when Mark finally drove through its border, blankly staring through his windshield as he drove through the large gateway leading into Wisteria Avenue. Cesar’s house was completely dark, with both him and his mother presumably asleep when Mark parked on the side of the road, staring at the house with dull eyes before he hesitantly opened up his car door, stepping onto the curb before approaching the front door. To his surprise however, the door appeared to be slightly opened; almost inviting to anyone who wanted to come in. The worry of a possible intruder lingered in Mark’s mind as he reached for the strangely warm door knob, though was quickly snuffed out when he heard the sound of an all too familiar ticking noise coming from inside.

There it was; the clock Mark had seen in dreams, nightmares, and hallucinations alike. He walked into the living room, staring at the clock’s face, its hands moving with every beat. Mark turned towards the archway leading into the kitchen, carefully walking towards it, before moving through the kitchen, and towards the back hallway, eyes somewhat glistening in the dark as he approached one of the doors. He grabbed the handle, slowly opening it part way, its hinges creaking as he looked inside, seeing a bedroom. Cesar was sleeping in his bed, completely still and not even reacting to Mark’s presence whatsoever.

Vulnerable.

Mark slowly shut the door after only a few seconds of blank staring, all before he heard them once again; the bells ringing three times. Mark walked out of the hallway, back through the kitchen, passing by a set of glass sliding doors, partially cloaked by curtains. He glanced outside, seeing nothing of interest in the backyard aside from the faint orange light from a nearby streetlight, though the darkness made him turn his head away, imagining widened eyes staring back at him from the dark if he didn’t look away first.

When he made it back into the living room, he saw the clock once again, but noticed two things when he approached it: There was an odd, sweet smell coming from it, almost like vanilla. Secondly, the door was opened, the compartment with the pendulum being exposed somewhat through the partially opened glass door. Mark didn’t even know that the door could be opened, assuming it was completely stuck shut for a reason he didn’t know. However, there it was, open, almost like it wanted him to take a closer look at its inner workings. However, when Mark lightly pressed his cool hand on the door to look closer, he was interrupted by the sound of a loud thud against something on the other side of the House.

Mark backed away from the clock, peeking from behind the kitchen archway to see the glass doors had a new red smear on the outside of them, dripping down onto the small patio below it. Mark stared at the stain, stumbling towards the doors, pushing the curtains out of the way as he looked outside, seeing nothing but grass and trees past the backyard once again. His eyes glanced from side to side, all before he heard a loud deer call just out of view. He flinched, backing away as he placed his hand on his chest and over his necklace, all before sighing, feeling embarrassed that he was scared by the local wildlife. He unlocked and slid open the glass door, looking to the right, expecting to see a doe or even a buck standing there munching on grass or something, only to find that his blood ran cold when he finally saw it. 

“You.”

The deer hobbled along on only its front legs, with its two back legs appearing lame and unusable. Its left antler was hanging on by a single bit of broken bone and nerves, and its side appeared bloody and broken. How the deer made it all the way here from the road to Cesar’s house with only two working legs astounded and frightened Mark to no end, making him nearly want to vomit. It leaned down and began gnawing at a rotten apple on the ground, from the tree that was right behind it. Mark couldn’t look away as it chewed and ate the rotten fruit as if it would kill it if it didn’t. After a few moments of horrified silence, Mark watched it raise its head, facing Mark and staring at him with constricted pupils. Veins and sinew were hanging from its agape mouth as its head twitched and legs trembled. Mark took a step towards the glass doors behind him, preparing to go back insi—

The deer was pounced on by a tall, pale figure that leaped out from the tree line. Mark yelled, stumbling back and falling into the kitchen as he heard loud, staticy yells and screeches, along with pained bellows from the deer just outside. Mark scrambled to his feet, slamming the door shut and closing the curtains, backing away until he was against the opposite wall. He could hear flesh tearing and bones crunching as Mark shuffled towards the archway, all before Mark ran towards the front door, ignoring the clock and swinging open the door, slamming it shut behind him before he booked it to his car. He had never started a vehicle that quickly in his life, backing away from the House and speeding down the road, not once bothering to check if he was under the speed limit. He felt as though he was missing something as he drove away, despite not bringing anything there, but it didn’t matter. Mark wasn’t lingering long enough to see what that large humanoid wanted.

6:10 AM

Mark audibly groaned when he heard the sound of his alarm clock that morning. He knocked the alarm clock over, it hitting the ground with a soft thud, thankfully hitting a pile of clothes on the ground next to the nightstand. Mark stared at the ceiling, still wearing the clothes he wore to Cesar’s House; in fact, he hadn’t slept at all during that time, only staring at the ceiling blankly with dried out eyes, only blinking every couple minutes at least. Another night of fearing nightmares and swearing he heard sounds outside his window, his heart beating hard enough to keep waking him up whenever he dared to doze off. He pondered whether he wanted to stay at home and pretend he was sick, or go to school and get another boring and overwhelming day done with, and knowing the amount of missing days he’s already taken, he reluctantly decided on the latter.

He groggily sat up, sitting in place for a few moments before standing up on two shaky legs, shambling towards his bedroom door, grabbing his backpack on the way then moving through the hallway. When he made it downstairs, he saw Leah in the kitchen, cooking breakfast for him and Sarah, with Sarah already at the kitchen table. The smell of food alone, even if it smelled good, made Mark feel nauseous, getting rid of any appetite he had left. Mark stared at Leah and Sarah for a moment before speaking.

“Is Sarah done eating?”

“…Oh she hasn’t eaten yet, I’m still making everything.” Leah explained. “Though, she’s going to stay home today anyway, if…you’re ready to go.”

“…Why isn’t she going?”

“She’s getting a cold, it seems…” Leah sighed. “Got it from her classmates I reckon.”

“Hm.” Mark looked towards the front door with a tired, half-lidded glare.

“…Oh, by the way…did you…leave last night?” Leah asked. “I-I’m not mad, I just don’t think it’s safe to—”

Leah turned to see the front door open, only to close soon after, with Mark completely missing from the living room. Leah sighed softly, looking back at the stove and pan of eggs with a worried look in her eyes, lightly rubbing her thumb on her sapphire necklace.

11:23 AM

Mark was losing it in that fucking school.

Mark stared at his desk, scratching the wood of it with his chipped nails, leaving small lines in its surface. He stared at the math worksheet he had been given, with only a few scratched out answers in the spots given and the rest covered in what must have been hundreds of small, messy doodles. He couldn’t even think of the rest of the answers, his brain moving as slow as molasses yet as quickly as a racecar. He looked around, seeing the rest of his classmates staring at their worksheets in complete silence, with not even music blotting out the thoughts (or lack thereof) in his head. Nothing and everything all at once.

Mark glanced towards the other side of the room, seeing Cesar sitting at his own desk. Mark was surprised he hadn’t chewed out Mark about what happened the previous day, yelling at him about how they weren’t friends anymore and how he wished that Mark was dead. Perhaps a cruel thought, and maybe misplaced, but Mark would’ve rather had Cesar be the one to yell at him about how unstable he was than his own mind. At the very least, he could choke out the words of someone else, but not his own mind.

The clock in that room was starting to sound like a jackhammer in Mark’s ears. It felt as grating as nails on a chalkboard, all the while the feeling of being watched didn’t once subside. Mark couldn’t concentrate on whatever work he was meant to be doing, only staring blankly downwards, and waiting for the bell to ring once again. He felt as though his own thoughts were overrun by something else, making him unable to even think of a single thing on his own clearly. Mark glanced up at the board at the front of the room, seeing that the words on it were warped in his vision, nearly completely unreadable. Mark began to regret going to school; he would’ve rather risked getting suspended for absence than deal with the horrible feelings he had while at that school.

Mark took in a deep breath, attempting to gather his thoughts as he looked around, rubbing his necklace to try and ground himself as he attempted to not panic in the middle of the classroom. He looked at the teacher, who was sitting at his desk, staring at a few papers on it in silence. Everything was silent aside from the damned clock hung up on the wall, one whose ticks and tocks made Mark want to rip his hair out. As every second went by, he felt more and more exhausted, with his mind foggy and thoughts unclear. He felt as though something else’s hands were wrapping against his head, making him move at its will and not his own.

BANG.

The first loud bang caused everyone in the class to flinch, with Cesar even dropping his pencil.

BANG.

The second one, albeit not as loud as the previous one, was enough to make everyone turn around, Cesar turning to see what was going on. Mark on the other end of the classroom, face down on the desk, blood gushing out of his now broken nose when Cesar all but leapt out of his seat and ran towards Mark, with even the teacher standing up and making his way to Mark’s desk.

“Mark?!” Cesar questioned, making Mark look up, blood pouring out of his nose, and his bloodshot eyes looking up at his “friend”. “Mark what the fuck happened?!”

“I’ll call the nurse and take him down th—” The teacher offered, but was interrupted by Cesar.

“N-No, I’ll just take him there—get up—” Cesar grabbed Mark’s arm, hoisting it over his shoulders before stumbling towards the door, trying his best to ignore the stares of his fellow concerned and frightened classmates as he left the room.

Cesar and Mark limped down the hallway towards the office, Cesar struggling to hold Mark’s weight due to Mark barely holding himself up. Cesar glanced up at Mark’s face, seeing two, dead, yet scared eyes staring back at him from under his messy hair. “W…What the FUCK was that?!" Cesar questioned. “…Why?!”

“I…d…I-I d…don’t…” Mark muttered so quietly Cesar could barely hear him. “I d…didn..t…sh…she…I-I…”

“Look man just…fuck, just hang in there, alright? We’re almost there,” Cesar said quickly, spotting the office at the end of the hall. “We’ll figure out how to fi—”

“Why.”

“…What?” Cesar paused for a second, seeing Mark was staring down at him with widened eyes.

“…I th…thought y-you…y…you hated…me.”

Cesar thought for a moment, looking at the ground before shaking his head. “We’ll talk about it later, just…” Cesar glanced down at the floor below Mark’s feet, seeing the growing puddle of blood under his shoes. “…Fuck, okay just…keep moving.”

Cesar continued to all but drag Mark to the office, trying to ignore how dread-inducing Mark’s dead-eyed stare was so he could walk the final distance there.

7:33 PM.

Silence.

For once Mark was staring at the ceiling in silence, but now finally feeling as though his brain was clearing up, enough for him to think for himself. The tight bandages on his nose hurt like hell, as well did the cross in his clenched fist that made his palm bleed, though the pain didn’t matter to him anymore. He stared at the bathroom ceiling, the water in the bath around him long since cooling down, to the point where it was barely lukewarm.

For once he felt…calm. Or at least as calm as the looming sense of dread that never left him would allow. As he laid in the water, fully clothed but not caring of how drenched his clothes would be afterwards, he let his mind become completely blank. Perhaps his emotions and thoughts had become so numb due to how overwhelming everything had become, stripping him of every ounce of energy he had and leaving nothing more than a husk. Either way, he didn’t even flinch at the sound of the knock on the bathroom door, only turning his head towards it before hearing a familiar, yet friendly voice.

“…Mark?”

Mom.

Mark sat up straight, letting out a quiet “yes?”, only really audible to him and him alone.

“…Are you alright?” Leah asked from the other side of the door, her voice soft and comforting. She heard movement and water splashing on the other side of the door before it was opened, Leah letting out a small gasp when she saw Mark standing there, with clothes that were dripping water onto the tiled floor and a hand that was covered in his own blood. Leah stared at Mark, letting out a saddened, soft, wavering smile before brushing Mark’s hair away from his left eye, seeing his green eyes in full. “…Y…You know I love you…don’t you?” She asked with a slight squeak in her voice.

Mark’s intense, blank stare was fixated at his mother’s face, eyes beginning to water before he wrapped his arms around Leah, sobbing into her shoulder as Leah returned the hug. Leah herself felt tears swelling up in her eyes, and began crying quietly as she embraced her son, not wanting to let go no matter what.

“I love you…don’t you ever forget that…ever.” She squeaked past her tears. “…God…please…” She choked on her own words before muttering one last thing:

“I just want my son back.”

[sweet-villain]

What You Put Me Through~ E.M

Anonymous asked:

Song fic with I hate myself for loving you.

Reader is the lead singer of the band and dated Eddie but they broke up for some reason

The gang hears that the reader is doing a show the next town over and they all go and force Eddie to go even though he keeps reminding them that you two broke up

Angst

@woahlifehitsyahuh @cinemaquinn @pleasantlycrazyworld. @moonchildquinn @haileighboi @ceriseheaven @harringtons-cupid

He stared down at the rings on his fingers as Steve mentioned that you were in the next town over with your band, having a show there. It was like the world had stopped for a moment as Eddie overheard the excitement from Steve. Everything felt like a blur with your name dropping from his mouth. Steve had given you a call once he heard you were coming close by.

After graduation and the break up with Eddie, your life changed. You and your band have signed a record deal and making music around the world. You didn't know how it happened, one day you were a girl singing your heart out in Hawkins and the next you were on the front of magazines, over the radio your voice was heard, you had became a sensation.

Midnight, gettin' uptight, where are you?

Something in Eddie stirred once he heard that you were chasing his dream. The green monster inside of him knocked on his door, he talked to you about being on tour with you and making music together. That dream sank when the two of you broke up.

" What do you mean you don't wanna do this anymore?" you asked, standing next to his bed as he had Sweetheart over his lap. Rather than looking at you, his girlfriend and the one person he thought meant everything to him, didn't.

You said you'd meet me, now it's quarter to two

He swallowed the lump in his throat, " I don't wanna be with you anymore" he spatted. His own eyes meeting your own. Something in him changed, he had overheard that you wanted to leave Hawkins. When were you going to tell him? Were you planning to take him? What was this even to you anymore?

" Why? What did I do?" he laughed, putting Sweetheart next to him. " Are you not listening or did you not clean your ears? I don't. want. to. be. with. you. anymore. Simple" he says getting off his bed as he pushed past you to get a beer out of the fridge.

" Just like that, we're done?" he popped open his beer as he chugged it. " Fine, have it your way. I hope your happy with this" you gritted your teeth in anger. Eddie watched you walk out of the trailer and out of his life that day. The following three days, he drove to your house to find out that you were gone. Your parents had informed him that you move on from him. They didn't tell him what you were going to do or where you were going.

You had informed your friends, Steve, Robin, Nancy, Jonathan and the others that you were going to be a rockstar. You were going to make a dream happen, your dream and you were right. You made it happened within a couple of months.

Next thing everyone knew, you were the rockstar everyone wanted to be. The first time Eddie saw you on the cover of the magazine with your bad, he threw it across the room in anger. You were busy making a life doing what you dreamt of while he was stuck in Hawkins, with sadness filling him every day and the hurt that he let you slip out of his life.

I know I'm hangin' but I'm still wantin' you

No matter where you were, or what you were doing Eddie kept thinking about you. You never left his mind or his heart. He never looked at another girl the same way he looked at you. You weren't them. You never were going to be them. You were one person he wanted and he regret letting you go that night. He regret breaking your heart because he broke his that night too. He felt so stupid, the one good thing in his life that he had, he let it go just like that.

Hey Jack, it's a fact they're talkin' in town

" Did you get tickets?' Robin asks Steve. Steve pulled out a couple of tickets from the back pocket of his pants flashing them. Nancy stood up as she over looked to see if they were real. Your bands name was on it and the time, the date and where the concert was happening.

" These are real" she says tracing over your bands name with her finger. Eddie sat silently as he listened to them talk. His heart clenched knowing he was going to be dragged down to see you. Did you remember him? What was your reaction going to be? He was scared and at the same time happy. He wanted to see how the stage made you feel, how you looked and listen to the crowd shout for you.

I turn my back and you're messin' around

" Eddie, your coming. Right?" Steve asks. They all knew that you and Eddie broke up before you left to become a rockstar. They knew your dream and his. His didn't happen. Yours did. They knew that Eddie still was hurting. They watch him take girls home, to never be seen again. He didn't tell them their name or anything else. They were just girls.

His head shot up to meet Steve's gaze, nodding his head without giving them a verbal answer. He felt that if he did speak out, and your name slipped his lips than he would break in front of them. He misses you so much and wishes he could go back in time to erase all the pain he had caused you. All the things he said. He just wants to see you.

I'm not getting jealous, don't like lookin' like a clown

He was going to take this night, to see you one more time. To see the happiness on your face. To see the career you build. Without him by your side.

I think of you every night and day

He stood in line waiting to be let in with his hands in his pockets, he hasn't said a word the whole ride to the venue. He hadn't know what you think or say to you if you were going to talk to him. Were you? He had heard that Steve was the only one that spoke to you on the phone. He wanted to badly ask Steve if you said anything about him or even mention his name. But he bite down on his tongue and held back.

" Hey" he heard Robin nudge him with her shoulder, he was too busy in his thought to notice the looks on his friends faces that they were giving him. His eyes met her own as she looked at him worried. " Do you want to stay in the car? I get it if you don't wanna see her" he shakes his head, his curls bouncing as he answers her, " I'll be fine."

Those words didn't reach to her liking as she sighed to herself, " I know it must not be easy to know she's living her dream without you. I remember the two of you talk about it all the time. I'm sorry" she says. " Do you want a hug?" she adds.

His lips quiver as he thinks back to the time you both gushed to each other the way you were going to live on tour together, traveling the world and making music as a couple. But that ship sank and it was all his fault. Arm wrapped around him before he even spoke a word to Robin, she wrapped her arms around him pulling him into her. Another pair of arms wrap themselves around him, and then a pat on his back from most likely Steve.

" You don't have to do this, Munson" Steve says once they pull away from him. Eddie shook his head again locking eyes with his friend.

" I want to see her, even if it's going to hurt me. I need it" he says. They all cast him a sympathetic look. He doesn't really need to look at them to know that they felt bad for bringing him with them. But he needs to see you, it would help him move on if that was the choice. He knows that he's going to live with this hurt for the rest of his life. You were the love of his life, always will be. No one made him feel like you made him feel.

The feeling was never going to disappear.

You took my heart, and you took my pride away

The line moved up and they entered the venue. There were so many people coming to see your band play. Eddie's brown doe eyes widen as he gasped seeing the crowd.

" We're up front" Steve informs them and looks at Eddie for his reaction. Eddie gulps as he follows them without a word, he stands next to Robin as she rubs his back in comfort.

" I'm sorry" she says like it was going to fix everything for him. For what he felt. His eyes met hers for a moment as he shrugged. He wanted to run outside for a cigarette in hopes it would calm him down. He felt his hands become clammy and his mouth felt dry. Was he ready to see you?

His eyes found the microphone that you'd be using to sing and he found your guitar on the stand. It was a maroon color and looks as beautiful as ever. His mind raced if you knew he was coming and if Steve told you that he was here.

I hate myself for loving you

You, on the other hand stood backstage with a leather jacket on with make up ready but you had spotted him in the front row. He looked as good as ever with his hair a little longer and his brown doe eyes searching like he didn't know if he belonged there. He sported a leather jacket of his own and his hands gripped the railer with those rings on his fingers. He didn't change at all, a little scruff on his face was all that was added to him. But he looked much older, lost and searched. Was he searching for you?

You had spotted Steve, Nancy and Robin as they stood with him waiting for the show to start. A hand appeared on your shoulder scaring you. You jumped putting a hand on your heart as you turned to Andy, your drummer.

" What's up?" he asked. His eyes followed where you were looking at and he must put two and two together because it looked like a light bulb went over his head. " Is that him? Is that Eddie?" he asked. He knew the answer already because you had described your first heart break and your first love to them to a T.

" yes" you nodded your head turning around to face your bands mates. You all huddle together as a ritual before the show, for some good luck and for some fun during the show. You have been doing this for awhile with them.

Can't break free from the the things that you do

You put your arms over Andy's shoulder, your drummer and Pepper's shoulder, your bassist as you all shouted and roared to have a good time and shouted your bands name. A shot was offered to you by Andy as he knew you would need it for tonight.

" You know me all to well" he smirks as he downs one too. The first one to go out was Andy waving a hand in the air with two drum stick in his hand hearing the crowd shout for him. The front row screamed his name and reached out their hands as they had tears strolling down their face. The rest of the band started to head out, Pepper shot you a thumbs up before she headed out to her spot.

You took a deep breathe knowing you were the last one to go out there, running fingers through your hair putting a smile on your face as you walked out. The crowd screamed your name, the lights beamed at you shining at you on the spot light.

I wanna walk but I run back to you

" Hello! Hello!" you waved while the other gripped the mic, adjusting it. The crowd were screaming, screaming your name and a bunch of I love you and marry me signs were raised over people's heads. " My name is Y/N, but you already knew that" the crowd laughed along with your bandmates. You introduced your band and each member as they waved to the crowd. " We have been doing this for some quiet time now, and love every minute of it. I hope you enjoy the show and if you know the lyrics of the songs, sing with me. Dance with me. Be loud and more importantly enjoy the night" you blew kisses to the crowd as the first song started.

Your eyes catch where Steve stands as he looks up at you. Once he notices that you spotted him, he waves excitingly and jumps up and down. He's gushing over you even though he knows since the two of you were kids.

A smile appears on your face, in mid break of the song you spoke into the microphone.

" There are some long time friends in the house tonight, Hi Steve, Hi Robin, Hi Nancy..." your eyes turned to lock with Eddie's, those brown eyes that you used to get lost in many times, " Hi, Eddie."

Eddie's eyes widen hearing his face as his mouth open and closed hearing his name like it was something new he had never had heard before. He looks around to make sure it wasn't another Eddie that you were talking about.

That's why I hate myself for loving you

As you continue to sing, you kept glancing over to him. It's been such a long time since the last time you saw him. Many memories flash through your mind as you over look at the crowd. Eddie was the one that pushed you to sing, push you to your dreams and without him, you wouldn't of been here.

Daylight, spent the night without you

" Are you doing okay?" Robin shouted over the music, looking at Eddie to see he has never taken his eyes off of you. You were like an angle that he had never seen before. He was in awe of your voice, of your beauty and how you were singing your heart out. His breath hitched when you first looked at him and his heart sped up feeling it tug at his heart strings.

His shoulder shook him out of his thought looking over at Robin, she had concern written on her face. " I'm okay" he nodded reassuring her. But was he? How was he suppose to be okay after this? You were right there in near reach from him but he couldn't move from his spot. Your voice melted him as his hands on the rail gripped harder.

But I've been dreamin' 'bout the lovin' you do

" There is someone in the crowd tonight that put me through a lot during my teenage years back in high school. He was the love of my life, at least that's what I thought until he took my heart and threw it in the trash. But I want to let this person know, they are forgiven and they always have a home in my heart" you spoke into the microphone over looking down at Eddie. His eyes brim with tears knowing he was the person you were talking about.

God, he hated himself for what he put you threw and how things ended between the two of you.

You sent him a small smile reassuring him that you were past on what happened between him and your relationship. Things were better.

I'm over being angry 'bout the hell you put me through

As the show came to the end, the rest of your band lined up next to you raising your hand in the air as the crowd cheered. Your hair was matted to your forehead. The set list went by fast and the night was coming to the end.

" Thank you for having us, we hope you get home safe and enjoyed tonight. We love you!" you spoke into the microphone before leaving it on the stand for the crew to get.

Hey man, bet you can't treat me right

You had taken your leather jacket during one of the songs, putting it on one of the stairs next to where Andy's drums were. You grabbed it back in your hands following your band, backstage. They all high fives each other.

" Here" Pepper dropped a cold water bottle in your hands. " Thanks" you nodded and uncapping it as you downed it down. You walked past your band dropping the empty water bottle in the trash when you hear a familiar voice.

You just don't know what you was missin' last night

" You can't go back there" one of the security guards said blocking those that wanted to come backstage. You appeared from behind the curtain to see it was Steve and the rest of the gang trying to get backstage to see you.

" What's the problem here?" you asked, Robin breathe hitched as her eyes glazed over seeing that it was you standing behind the security guard. Nancy and Steve gasped at the sight of you. The three of them couldn't grasp still that this was really you. That they came to see you and you were real.

" They are trying to come backstage and-" you cut him off with a pat on his chest. " I got it, it's okay" he grumbled underneath his breath, looking at you as he says something about not being paid enough for his job.

I wanna see you beggin', say, "Forget it" just for spite

" Hi" Steve is the first one to greet you as he comes closer, hesitant lifting his arms up for a hug not really sure if that's allowed or not. " You can hug me, Harrington. I'm not made of glass, you know" Steve chuckled as he wraps his arms around you not caring if you were sweaty after the show. Your own arms wrap themselves around him, hugging him.

" Good to see you" you mumbled into his shoulder. His response was squeezing you tighter. Your eyes looked towards Eddie to see him turned to the side, his face covering by his hair as he looked down not really wanting to be closer than he already was. Steve pulled away as you were embraced by Nancy.

I think of you every night and day

" You and your voice are incredible, god I missed you" she says pulling away as she looks at you. The same old you stood there, just hair plastered to forehead and sweat running down the side of your face with eyeliner underneath your eyes that was smudged.

" Such a rockstar" Nancy says, " so proud of you"

" We are so proud of you" Robin corrected her as she embrace you next. Her hug was tight as she held you in her arms. " God you stink" she says pulling away causing you to laugh.

" Well, you know I just rocked out a show. It's comes with the job" she laughed as she stepped back.

You took my heart, and you took my pride away

You weren't too sure if he wanted to see you or talk to you. His head was turned to the side still as his brain tried to understand that he was still here and your were only a few feet away. He could hear you as you talked to the rest and now he couldn't even move to look at you.

I hate myself for loving you

Steve turned his head towards Eddie, trying to catch his eyes. He could tell Eddie was not doing his best seeing the eyes glazing over and his lips quivering. Robin put a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. His fist clenched and unclenched by his side. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

You waited and waited for him to say something but it never came. Did he hate you? He couldn't even look at you and that stung your chest.

Can't break free from the things that you do

" Well, I should be going..." you started to say and that's when his head moved as he looked you in the eyes. Those brown eyes of his were spilling with tears down his cheeks like waterfalls. He hated the fact that after all this time, he can't move on because you consumed him. The thought of you, the scent of you, you were even where. He still loves you and hates for letting you go.

Your own eyes fought the tears as you locked eyes with him. The one person that you thought was your everything turned into the bandages that kept falling from your cracked heart.

I wanna walk but I run back to you

" I...I..I'm happy....for.. you" he says through his swallowed tears. It was a hard pill to swallow. You were living his dream day in and day out while he felt lost and unwanted.

" Thank you" it melted his heart hearing you say it. " It's all because of you I'm here and doing this" you saw the flash of hurt in his eyes pass but it was gone before you could question him about it.

You hadn't noticed that Steve, Nancy and Robin had walked away giving you this time with him. You had no idea what this was, but seeing him brought a lot of memories and hurt that you were feeling.

That's why I hate myself for loving you

" I'm sorry for hurting you, and I hate myself more than anything that every time I look at you or listen to one of your songs, you are there with me..." he sniffles as he speaks. He has to tell you how he feels even if it was going to hurt him.

I hate myself for loving you

" You are and were the only person that made me feel loved and important" you were listening to him and every word leaving out of him was getting harder and harder to walk away from.

" You're living the dream, the one we talked about. We were going to do it together around the world. Eddie and Y/N" you nodded, licking your lips from the salty tears.

" You ended things between us, Eddie. You broke my heart" he nodded, " you ended our future there. It was gone just like that and I couldn't stay."

Can't break free from the the things that you do

" You didn't tell me you were going to leave for good, I didn't get a goodbye or one last word in" He shook his head as he took a step towards you. His eyes were red as more tears streamed down his cheeks, " I know I hurt you and I never deserved you, but you could of told me you were leaving to do this" he motions with his hands at the almost empty venue. " It wasn't fair to find out from your parents, from Steve and Robin... I wanted one last night with you.." he mumbles.

I wanna walk but I run back to you

" It wouldn't be fair for the both of us, you broke up with me and I needed to go. I needed to get away, everything was hurting me and I couldn't do it. I couldn't face you to tell you goodbye like that"

He chuckled as he wipes his nose with the corner of his sleeve.

" I'm never going to be able to get past you, because you were the love of my life and always will be. There is no one like you, not a rockstar like you" you chuckled with him.

That's why I hate myself for loving you

" I've tried to be with other people, but I can't. They aren't you. They will never be you"

" What do you want me to Eddie? I can't go back to you, I can't let myself get hurt" his hands reached out to take yours in his.

I hate myself (ow, uh)

" What if we went back to being together? What if we gave this another shot?" his eyes lock with yours trying to find the answer that would make him feel better. To make this all better. But there wasn't one that he found in your eyes.

" Eddie..." he shook his head not liking the sound of his name falling from your lips like that. " We can't" his lip quivered as his shoulder shook with disappointment and hurt.

I hate myself (ow, uh)

" You'll find someone" you tell him, but he stepped back with tears in anger shouting, " No!" he shook his head. " I don't want someone. I want you."

For loving you I hate myself (ow, uh)

" It doesn't work like that Eddie. I'm not home most of the year, I am always traveling with the band or I'm making new music" he shrugged. " Take me with you" he mumbles, " Take me on tour. I'll help..."

For loving you I hate myself (ow, ow, ow)

" Oh Eddie, you're always such a sweetheart. You deserve more than what I can give you. You deserve better"

He shook his head again, wiping his eyes harshly from the tears.

" I want you!" he shouted, " I don't want better. I don't want anyone but you, please..."

" You have to let me go, Eddie. You have to move on"

For loving you I hate myself (ow) I hate myself For loving you

You took a step towards him, cupping his face with both your hands. Your thumbs wiped away the remaining tears.

" You're so beautiful, always were" his cheeks hinted a little red, breath hitching watching you lean closer as your lips fall on his. They moved as one, Eddie closed his eyes as he kissed back getting what he can. It was way too fast and as his eyes fluttered opened, he stood alone in the venue watching as you walked out the back door with his heart in your hands.

God, he hated how he felt and how after all this time he was always going to love you.

His first love.