#i swear to GOD i will eat my hat if it ends up leading anywhere

[colorful-horses]

I'm about 50 chapters into this story, and there ARE things about it that im enjoying.

But there's a certain super questionable aspect of the romance that they continuously bring up, seemingly for no reason, and everytime they bring it up im like

Found a new series that ha wildly polarizing opinions, ranging from "this is the best thing I've ever read" to "this is the worst thing ever put to paper", which is my faaavorite type of media.

I'll see you guys after I finish reading Lore Olympus.

[letsyesnomaybe]

Never Gonna Wanna Let Me Go | Part 5

Zayn Malik is one of the highest paid escorts in London. He’s good at his job, he knows this. But it’s not his chosen field, it’s easy money so he can have a chance to pursue his chosen field without becoming homeless. His employer Caroline has many rules to keep him safe but Zayn only has one ‘Don’t Get Attached’. Of course, there was always going to be one, the guy who would come in to the picture and make Zayn’s easy job almost impossible.

Liam Payne. Twenty Six. Made his money by inheriting his father’s music business after he passed away. Quite well known so expect publicity. Wants a pretty face on his arm to cover the events he has to attend while in town on business. Make sure he knows if he wants extra he has to pay. You’ve got your usual expenses on your card, don’t go overboard like last time. I mean it, Malik! Your share for the weekend will go in your account on Monday when you’ve done your job.

Love you babes, stay safe, C x

Part 1, 2 ,3 & 4  (also on ao3)

Liam’s father’s cabin is a literal cabin, which Zayn wasn’t expecting. He also wasn’t expecting it to be in the middle of nowhere, they have to take a plane, helicopter and car to get there. He actually starts to worry a bit as the driver pulls away from them that he’s suddenly trapped in a remote part of Scotland with a guy he’s only known for three days. 

But then Liam announces he wants to fuck on the deck out back and he offers Zayn the biggest goofiest smile imaginable and he thinks if this is how he dies then it’s not that bad of a way to go. 

After they get done being exhibitionist they split to shower in two of the five bathrooms inside the cabin. 

Zayn’s washing both his and Liam’s come off what feels like is every inch of his body and singing ‘Can’t help falling in love with you’ loudly to combat against the water pounding down when Liam enters the bathroom he’s in. 

He doesn’t notice straight away because the glass of the shower is quite steamed up so he doesn’t halt his singing but the moment he opens the shower door to find the other lad leaning on the sink, he instantly clamps his mouth shut. 

“Your voice is beautiful.” Liam compliments with wide curious eyes. 

Zayn offers him a smile as he steps out of the shower and wraps a towel around his waist. 

“You shouldn’t let a voice like that go to waste, Zayn.” Liam tells him. 

“I don’t sing in front of other people,” Zayn informs him and steps closer so he can cup Liam’s cheek, gently stroking his thumb across the younger lad’s freshly shaved cheek. “You’re one of the very lucky few.” 

“I know but you could,” Liam argues and he looks suddenly very serious. “I could set it up for you.” 

“I don’t want another contract from you, Liam.” Zayn snaps and drops his hand, it’s harsh but he hopes it gets his point across. 

Liam doesn’t look hurt like he expects and Zayn realises it’s because he’s not even listening when Zayn speaks, he’s suddenly got his business hat on. 

“This could change your life.” Liam decides. 

Zayn decides he’s obviously not going to get anywhere with whatever train of thought Liam is on so instead he decides to leave the bathroom, thinking if he walks away from the conversation then Liam might finally realise he doesn’t want to take part in it. 

“You won’t take money from me because you said you pay your own way in this life,“ Liam continues as he follows him out, obviously not getting the hint. “This could be an honest way to make your money.” 

Zayn feels like that’s a punch to the gut, even if it wasn’t supposed to be and he only has to spin around to look at Liam, for him to quickly retract the words and have guilt consume his face instead. 

"I’m sorry,” Liam says quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that, I swear, Z, it wasn’t supposed to come out that way.” 

Zayn gets a little smile on his lips from the nickname he wasn’t expecting and the moment he does, one appears on Liam’s lips too. 

“It could change your life, Z.” Liam states again, picked up on the fact the nickname was what made Zayn smile. 

“It doesn’t always change it for the better.” Zayn argues. 

Liam looks curious. 

“Harry’s mate was a busker in London, got picked up by some big record company.” Zayn explains. ���It changed his life but in my opinion, it wasn’t for the better.” 

Liam looks curious. “What’s his name?” 

"What?” Zayn asks confused. 

“The busker,” Liam pushes. “What’s his name?” 

“Ed.” Zayn replies but doesn’t expand because he knows that’s all Liam will need. 

“As in Ed Sheeran?!” Liam expresses. 

Zayn nods his head. "It didn’t change Ed, he’ll pop in to Harry’s bakery for a chat now and then and he’s still the best person to have a quiet pint with. But god forbid if you wanted to go for more than one, he isn’t left alone, his face is so well known now that even walking down the street is a task. 

“Surely, people look at you when you walk down the street anyway?” Liam scoffs. 

“Maybe,” Zayn agrees because he’s not oblivious to how he looks, he knows it’s why he’s so good at what he does. “But having people glance at you as you pass them on the street is very different to attention artists like Ed get when they go out in public.” 

“There’s way to combat though,” Liam tries. “It’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be.” 

“I’m not a performer, Liam.” Zayn says finally. “I don’t want to be one either so will you drop it, please?” 

“You don’t think what you do is a performance?” Liam asks. “You don’t put on a show with every bloke Caroline sets you up with?” 

Zayn steps closer so he can reach out to slip his hands over Liam’s hips and offers him a sweet smile. 

“Not every bloke.” He points out. 

“This isn’t a show?” Liam checks. 

Zayn drops his hands and takes a physical step back. “You think that it is?” 

“No, no.” Liam says quickly and drags his fingers through his hair, it gives Zayn a perfect view of his bicep and the nail marks Zayn had dug in to not an hour ago. “Fuck, I’m really putting my foot in it today, aren’t I?” 

“Liam?” Zayn asks. 

Liam drops his hand and looks at him expectantly. 

“I wanted you to stop talking.” Zayn decides. 

Liam face goes through many emotions before it finally settles on humour. “You dick! I thought you were really pissed at me!” 

“I will be if you don’t come over here and fuck me again.” Zayn decides with a loose grin. 

Liam doesn’t need anymore instruction as he stalks across the room and kisses Zayn with so much passion, it makes him wish he’d never have to stop. 

***

They manage three peaceful days at the cabin before it all turns to shit. 

Zayn truly believes they didn’t have to fly all the way to Scotland to spend three days fucking each other raw, watching every marvel movie known to man and eating so much shitty food that Zayn’s sure Liam’s perfect body is slowly turning in to a dad bod. 

They’ve moved on to a Harry Potter marathon because they’d had an argument over which house they should both to belong to while showering together that morning. 

They’ve got ‘Goblet Of Fire’ ready and set to go when Liam’s phone buzzes with a name unfamiliar to Zayn. 

Liam picks up and frowns. “I’ll be right back.” 

“I’ll make more popcorn.” Zayn decides. 

Liam leans over and steals a quick kiss and when he pulls back, he smiles so hard his eyes disappear which he had started doing on their second day there and it hadn’t taken long for Zayn decide it was his favourite Liam smile. 

“I won’t be long.” Liam promises 

“I’ll be here waiting for you, Liam.” Zayn says with his own cheeky grin that he thinks Liam loves himself because he usually gets his favourite Liam smile in return to it. 

Liam grasps him by the chin this time and Zayn’s worried he’s done something wrong before Liam presses a more demanding kiss to his lips. 

“Your phone.” Zayn mumbles against 

“I’ll ring them back.” Liam decides and throws the phone aside so he can continue with what he’d started. 

They don’t let it go too far, only far enough that when they both pull apart, they have to adjust themselves before heading off to do their separate tasks. 

Though Zayn only manages a few minutes in the kitchen before he remembers he has no idea how to work the microwave so goes on the search for Liam to demand he be shown how to do it again. It’s not his fault, each time Liam has shown him how do it, he’d got distracted by how adorable he is while being instructive. 

He only makes it to the sliding door that leads out to the balcony Liam had taken his call on, when the other lad’s voice stops him. 

“--to myself,” Liam says to whoever is on the phone. “I wanted to relax, that’s all. I’ll be going to LA in a few days, I need to or Simmons will use it as his chance to turn the board completely against him.” 

The person on the other end must not be happy with that response because he sighs. 

“I wanted to show him I’m not a fucking coward,” He argues. “I won’t hide who I am just because he doesn’t approve.” 

Zayn feels a little proud that the boy he’s sure he’s slowly falling in love with is so sure of who he is and is happy to make sure other people know that too. 

“No, he was just someone I paid to attend with me.” Liam continues. “I know, yeah, he was worth the money for sure.” 

Zayn feels suddenly sick because those words hurt. Of course, he’s been called worse and to his face. But for some reason hearing Liam say it made him feel far dirtier and far more 

“I’m no hiding anything,” Liam argues. “I’m here alone, I told you, I needed a break but I’ll fly out in a few days.” 

Zayn doesn’t wait for the conversation to continue and for have himself hurt by more words. 

Instead, he drops the bowl of popcorn kernels on to the table by the door, making sure it makes a loud of noise to catch Liam’s attention. 

Though he doesn’t wait for Liam to come back inside, instead he rushes through the house to what they had claimed as ‘their’ bedroom to pack his bags to get away from what’s causing him pain as soon as possible. 

Liam’s worried call of his name follows him upstairs and Zayn waits in the centre of the bedroom for him to enter. 

“What am I?” He asks, the moment the other lad walks through the door. 

“I didn’t mean it like you heard it.” Liam tries. 

“What am I?” Zayn demands again. “Because you’re not paying me anymore but you made damn sure whoever was on that call knew you were alone so what the fuck am I, Liam? Why the fuck did you bring me here?” 

Liam looks lost on how he’s supposed to reply, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“What am I?!” Zayn ask a little louder but he doesn’t give Liam a chance to answer.

‘You’re a warm body to fuck,’ Louis’ voice echoes in his memory. ‘That’s all you ever were to me, babe’. 

Zayn starts walking around room, collecting things that are his to shove back in his suitcase so he can leave.

“Stop.” Liam pleads, reaching for his arm after he’s dumped a load of clothes in to the suitcase.

Zayn does stop but his chest is heaving as he stands now toe to toe with Liam. “I can’t do this again.”

“What do you mean again?” Liam worries.

Zayn moves away from him to collect his shoes from the bottom of the wardrobe.

“Zayn, stop.” Liam pleads. 

Zayn feels frantic and he must look it because the moment he stops in the middle of the room, he can feel how fast his heart is racing 

“Can we talk about this, please?” Liam requests. “More rationally than we currently are.”

‘We can talk about it,’ Louis says. ‘If you want to, if it will help.’ 

“Fuck off.” Zee screams at the memories. 

Liam’s eyes go wide and he takes a slight step back from Zayn. 

“I want to go.” Zayn decides. 

“Zayn,” Liam pleads. 

“I want to go, Liam.” Zayn states more demanding. 

Liam lets out a haggard breath and he’s almost pulling his hair out now. “Can’t you stay and talk to me for a little bit longer?” 

“I’ll let Caroline know you ned to be charged for four extra days and three nights.” Zayn replies because he wants Liam to hurt as much as him. 

“Z, please.” He says this time. 

Zayn snaps his eyes in Liam’s direction and he’s now even more furious because how dare he try to use what’s supposed to be an attentive nickname to make Zayn submit. 

“Book me a fucking car, Liam.” He barks. 

Liam nods obediently and walks back out of the bedroom. 

Zayn turns back around and zips up his suitcase before dragging it off the bed. He’d managed to pull on a hoodie over his bare torso and slipped on the trainers Liam had bought him at the airport on the way over, before the younger boy returns to the room. 

“Your cars on it’s way,” Liam says and he’s got his wallet in his hand. “Five hundred a night, right? Three hundred for the days? That’s almost three grand.” 

“Two thousand seven hundred.” Zayn tells him quietly because his plan had backfired and now his chest is physically aching with how much it hurts to return to being treated like a prostitute when he’s spent almost four days feeling like a boyfriend. 

“I’ve only got one grand on me,” Liam explains, as he holds out the cash. “I’ll send the rest to Caroline.” 

Zayn looks from the cash and up to meet Liam’s eyes but the soft boy he’d had for the past four days has somehow disappeared (like he’d been some dream Zayn had made up) and the arsehole he’d met almost a week ago now had returned. 

“You need the money, Zayn.” Liam tells him as he shakes the hand that’s holding it, to intrigue Zayn to take it. “Take it.” 

Zayn puffs his chest out, determined to hold his own, at least until he’s safely in the back of the car and on his way back to London where he will soon be reunited with the one in his man in his life he’s sure loves him for nothing more than simply existing. 

“Take it.” Liam says more demanding. 

“Fuck you.” Zayn spits at him. 

Liam at least looks taken back by Zayn’s outburst and Zayn uses that shock to his advantage as he picks up his suitcase and makes sure to barge his shoulders in to Liam's as he storms past him to get out of the room. 

Liam doesn’t follow him and Zayn is slightly glad that he doesn’t because he doesn’t last until he’s in the safety of the car. Instead the moment he’s outside the cabin, the door slamming closed behind him, he’s crying so hard it feels like he’s never going to be able to breathe again. 

The car turns up ten minutes later and he’d managed to calm himself down enough that he can coherently tell the driver where he wants to go. 

***

One he’s back in London Zayn heads straight to the pub that Caroline and her husband own (and she runs her side business out of) to get the inevitable bollocking over with. 

“Alright, man.” John greets as he enters. “She’s out back, cursing your name I reckon.” 

Zayn nods thankfully and offers John a sultry smile as he passes to get to where Caroline’s office is at the back of the pub. 

“Not a chance,” John shouts after him. “She’d have my balls if I went anywhere near your right now.” 

Zayn laughs and blows the older man a kiss before heading to the back room where Caroline conducts her business. 

Caroline doesn’t look with her usual bright smile when he enters and that’s all he needs to know she’s well and truly pissed. 

“I have six main rules, Zayn.” Caroline starts gently. “What are they?”

Zayn sighs. “I know.”

“What are they?!” She demands, finally looking up and she looks more upset than angry.

“Text you if plans change, never go out of the country, don’t go near Styles, don’t smoke, always use protection and don’t let feelings get in the way of business.” Zayn lists off.

“And how many of those rules did you break with Liam?” Caroline asks.

“All of them.” Zayn mumbles.

“How many?” She insists.

“All of them.” He says louder. “But technically Scotland is still in the same country or same nation, at least.”

“City,” Caroline corrects. “You’re not supposed to leave the city unless I’ve given the okay.”

“Sorry.” Zayn says simply.

Caroline sighs and sinks back in to her desk chair. “Do you think I do these things because I don’t care?”

“I know you care, Lin.” Zayn tells her.

“Then why would you put yourself in situations that could get you hurt?” Caroline cries. 

“You know why,” He says and shakes his head. “Do you really think I wouldn’t find out he got our number through Louis?”

“So?” Caroline replies. “I thought we were over the Louis drama?”

Zayn sighs. “We are.”

“Is Liam our new Louis?” Caroline wonders.

“He’s not anything,” Zayn assures her. “I think,”

Caroline raises her eyebrows when he pauses.

“Yeah.” He says to himself as he makes the final decision. “I quit.”

Caroline nods like that’s what she was expecting.

“You’re not going to try and talk me out of it?” Zayn asks.

Caroline shakes her head and gets up from her chair. “It’s been a long time coming, right?”

Zayn nods. “Think I needed the push, you know.”

“Yeah,” Caroline agrees and walks around the desk. “You’ve always been too good for this line of work, babe. It’s about time you got out there to show the world what you’ve really got to offer.”

“Didn’t have you down for soppy goodbyes.” Zayn teases.

“It’s not goodbye,” Caroline scolds. “Livy’s birthday is next week and Styles promised he’d make cupcakes.”

“He’s gonna burn down our kitchen again.” Zayn complains.

Caroline smiles and gestures for him to get up so she can pull him in to a hug. 

“You let me know if you need anything, okay?” She requests. “Money or somewhere to hold one those like art gallery things.”

“Sure,” Zayn agrees. “Thanks, Lin. For everything.”

“It’s always been you, babe.” Lin argues. “You’ve been the brains and beauty.”

Zayn squeezes her when he hears her sniffle.

“Right, I’ll see you next week for Livy’s birthday.” She says as she lets him go and ushers him out. “Tell Styles if those cupcakes are burnt he better not show his face.”

“I’ll make sure to.” Zayn promises and walks towards the door.

“Zayn?”

Zayn turns around with his hand holding open the door.

“You deserve the world,” Caroline tells him. “Don’t ever let some dickhead have you believe you don’t. If he’s not willing to give you it then he’s not worth your time.”

“You should write hallmark cards.” Zayn teases.

“Bugger off already.” Caroline retorts but she’s smiling.

Zayn blows her a kiss and finally leaves, walking away from the only reason he’d managed keep food on the table and clothes on his back, for the past seven years. 

[acantha-j-roberts]

Reader X Bill Skarsgard Sickfic: A little too selfless

Chapter 1

It’s your 21st birthday! You wake up, shaking with excitement. Your roommate bursts into your room, wearing a party hat, singing happy birthday and holding a mountain of presents. You didn’t expect so many gifts from your friend, but you were more than flattered. As you read the birthday cards, you can tell who wrote which, just by the writing and the words used. Films, CDs, makeup, sweets (Candy), jewellery, your friend know you well.

Once you’ve opened the majority of the presents, you notice a single unopened card, lying on your bed. You reach for it and it is obviously addressed to you. As you opened the card, you realise something that makes your smile widen. Everything is written in Swedish. You aren’t from Sweden; however, you’re are fluent in the language. Your best friend taught you the language, since he is from Sweden. You read through the card, unable to keep yourself from smiling. You’re near the bottom of that card when it ends with the simple word “Wardrobe” (Obviously in Swedish).

You look up and see a red ribbon hanging out from inside your wardrobe. Excited, you jump out of bed and rush towards it. You pull the closet door open and see a large bag, hanging from a coat hanger. You grab it, lay it on your bed and begin to unzip it. Your eyes light up when you see a gorgeous burgundy gown, with added black jewellery. A large white tag is tied to the dress, you pull it off and this is what it reads:

I’ve seen you admiring this outfits for a while

Hope you like it

Bill

You begin to tear up, you have been admiring this outfit since your first saw in a store window. Now you have it. You gently remove the dress from its packaging and hold it out in front of you. Your roommate looks at the dress, then at you.

“Let me guess, Bill got you that?” She asks.

You nodded, smiling with excitement.

“Y/N, he spoils you.” Your roommate says.

This just makes you smile more, “It’s a shame I don’t have anywhere to wear it.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Your roommate says, “Just wait.”

Chapter 2

For the rest of the day, you watched the films and listened to the music you were gifted. You wondered what your roommate meant when she said, “Just wait.” The sun was setting and you were preparing for a long night of movie watching, when your roommate suddenly comes rushing into the living room, holding your knew dress.

“Try it on!” She exclaimed, excitedly.

You didn’t think anything suspicious about this because you were really excited to try it on anyway. Your roommate was smart for asking you to do this, because whenever you try on a dress, you have a compulsion to put makeup on to make yourself feel even more like a princess. You go upstairs and try on the dress and all the jewellery. You fall in love with the dress even more when you have it on. You look through your new makeup, thinking about what makeup look you should do.

After 20 minutes of applying your makeup, you are finally done. You stare at your reflection, is awe of how amazing you look. You hear your roommate calling you from downstairs, asking if your ready. The walk down the stairs, feeling like royalty, when suddenly your friends jump out on you, screaming happy Birthday!

You are startled at first, but then you begin to jump up and down with excitement. Your roommate then explains that your going to a fancy restaurant, which only makes you more excited. You all enter your roommate’s car and begin to drive to the restaurant. You are listening to your favourite songs, with headphones. When you suddenly hear your friends talking. Not wanting them to know you’re listening, you only pause the music and keep the headphones in.

“I can’t believe he didn’t turn up.” One friend says, “After he organised all this.”

“Give him a break.” My roommate says, “He just finished filming Battlecreek, he’s probably exhausted.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Your friend says, “He should have at least shown up for the surprise.”

“Maybe he’ll be at the restaurant.” My roommate suggests.

“He’d better be.” Your friend says, “Or I swear to god, I’ll kill him.”

You know exactly who they were talking about, since you only have one male friend. You’re not mad at Bill at all for not showing up, he’s been really busy with filming and the premiere of Battlecreek. He already bought you the amazing burgundy dress, and organised this surprise birthday dinner, that is enough to satisfy you. You arrive at a classy restaurant and you and your friends walk in. Your roommate tells the waiter your name, and he leads you and the group into large room, which was decorated with red and black balloons.

The waiter was about to leave, when he asked your roommate whether or not we where expecting anymore people.

“We’re expecting one other person.” Your roommate answers

“Do you want us to wait for them to arrive before serving the food?” The waiter asks

Your roommate was about to answer, when a second waiter appeared. He whispered something to the first waiter, which then caused him to call your roommate away. You watch as you roommate walk, with the waiter, back towards the entrance. You’re having a conversation with your friend (The one you overheard in the car), when she suddenly walks off. You turn around to where she had gone and smile.

Chapter 3

Your roommate had returned, with Bill. You see that your friend is scolding him for showing up late and you’re not happy with that. You walk over, pushing your angry friend aside. You catch eyes with Bill and he smiles.

“You look stunning.” He says, stepping closer to you.

You blush, “Thank you. For the complement and for the dress.”

“Sorry for being late.” Bill says, guiltily

“You’re here now,” You say, “I’m happy with that.”

You smile again, Bill tried to smile but suddenly starts coughing. He turns away from you and coughs into his elbow. Your friend and roommate lean away from him, acting like germophobes. While you step closer to him.

“Are you okay?” You ask, placing your hand on his shoulder.  

“I’m fine.” Bill answers, turning to face you.

Now you’re close to him, you notice he looks a little flushed. You’re becoming a little concerned for him, but you don’t have time to question, because the food that your roommate had ordered arrives. She’d ordered it before we arrived at the restaurant, so we wouldn’t have to wait. You sit down at a large dinning table, placed in the centre of the decorated room. You sit beside your roommate and Bill sits opposite you. You’re severed an array of food, so you can pick what you want. Your favourite drinks are also being served, as well as unlimited cups of water.

You’re laughing with your friends, while eating your favourite foods. They are all asking you what you thought about the presents they gave you. While your talking with your roommate you glance over at Bill and you can’t help your expression changing to worry. It had been half an hour since the food had arrived, but Bill hadn’t eaten anything. He was shivering, despite him still having his jacket on.

Your roommate continued to talk, so your pretended to be listening, but you still glancing over at Bill. You’re taking mental notes on everything he does. Everything he swallows, he grimaces and rubs his throat. Every 5 minutes he’d have another coughing fit, then takes a sip of water to stop the fit. His face was becoming more and more flushed and his skin was covered in a sheen of sweat.

The food was finished and you had to wat about 20 minutes for desert to be served. While the waiter’s cleaned the tables, you’re talking with your roommate and friends. You glance behind you and see Bill standing in the corner, leaning against the wall and rubbing his forehead.

“I’ll be back.” You say, stepping away.

Your friends aren’t bothered with you going and they don’t even notice where you’re going. You walk towards Bill when he suddenly burst out in another coughing fit. You quickly grab a cup of water from the table and rush back to Bill. He looks up at you, his eyes watering from coughing so hard, you hand him the cup and he gently sips it. The coughing ceased and Bill tried to catch his breath. He catches eyes with you and he could see you’re worried.

“I’m fine.” He says, not giving you a chance to talk.

“I want to believe you, Bill.” You say, “But I can’t. I’ve been watching you all night; something is clearly wrong.”

Bill just smiles, “I’m fine, you shouldn’t be worrying about me. It’s your birthday, go and have fun.”

You try not to smile, but you just can’t help it. You’re still worried about him, but he was doing something he knew would make you smile. You’d gone to the premiere of Battlecreek and you really liked his character Henry Pearl. So, since you saw the film, Bill sometimes acts like Henry Pearl, just to make you smile. When Bill goes this, you’re both annoyed and giggly.

“You’re sure everything is okay?” You ask.

Bill was about to answer when the waiters called for us to sit back down. You turn around and your eyes light up again. The table was again covered in some of your favourite foods, but this time it was all sweet foods. You gasp with excitement and rush to your seat. You don’t wait for everyone else to sit down, you already have your plate full of food. As you begin to eat your food, you can’t help glancing over at Bill.

Again, he wasn’t eating, and he wouldn’t even look at the food. You sigh, being certain that Bill was lying when he said he was fine. Something was obviously wrong, he was flushed, not eating, shivering, and clearly had a bad cough. You’re trying to think what to do, knowing Bill won’t admit he wasn’t well, you didn’t was to call him out for lying and you didn’t want him to get any worse.

You’ve finished your food and you just sneakily monitor Bill when another coughing fit began. This fit was much worse than the prior ones, so more people noticed. He stood up and sped walked out of the room, the coughs becoming harsher.

Chapter 4

You and your roommate jump up and run after Bill, you walk faster to get a head of her. Bill had rushed out the restaurant and was standing in the unoccupied outside seating area, still coughing violently. Before you run out to him, a waiter approaches you and asks you if everything is ok. You ask the waiter for some water. The waiter glances outside, sees Bill and immediately rushes away to obey your request. Because the waiter was as worried as you, he rushes back, with a large glass of water.

You gladly take the cup and you rush outside, your roommate following shortly behind you. You feel your heart fill with panic, Bill is on his knees, fighting for breath as the coughs became sharper. You kneel beside him, trying to hide your panic. Bill catches eyes with you, trying to stop himself from coughing so hard. You hand him the cup of water and force him to take a sip. Your method to stop the coughs worked, however Bill was still breathing rapidly. Your panic increases when you see the colour draining from his face.

“Don’t you pass out on me!” You exclaim, panickily.

Bill doesn’t answer, his eyes begin to shut and he starts passing out. You talk to him, asking him basic questions, to try and keep him awake. Unfortunately, Bill doesn’t respond, his eyes fully close and he loses consciousness. You shake his shoulder to try and wake him, no response. You the gently tap his face for the same reason and that’s when you feel it, the heat radiating from Bill’s skin. Your suspicions have been confirmed, as if there were any doubt to begin with, Bill is sick.

You cuss under your breath, “Why didn’t he just tell me?” You think, “I wouldn’t have been mad if he missed this celebration because he was poorly.”

A waiter comes rushing out, gasping when he sees Bill, unconscious.

“Do you want me to call an ambulance?” The waiter asks.

You look down at Bill’s pale face, then back up at the waiter.

“No, an ambulance isn’t needed.” You say, “Just bring me some paper towels and more water, please.”

The waiter nodded and rushed back into the restaurant. Your roommate gives you an odd look.

“Why did you say no?” She asked, “Doesn’t he need a hospital, didn’t he choke?”

You shake your head, “He didn’t choke, he’s sick. He’s been coughing all night and he’s really feverish.”

Your roommate leans over Bill and gently placed her hand on his forehead. She cusses and looks back at you.

“Why didn’t he tell us?” She asks, “Why did he even show up if he’s unwell.” “He didn’t want to disappoint me.” You say, “Even though, he’s already done so much, he didn’t want to miss this celebration.”

The waiter returns with a roll of paper towels and a large pitcher of water, he hands it to you, then stands back.

“Anything else I can do to help?” He asks.

“No, that is all.” You say, “Thanks you for your assistance.”

The waiter smiles and walks back into the restaurant You rip off a foot of paper towel, fold it up, dip it in the water filled pitcher and gently begin pressing it on Bill’s forehead and cheeks. You’re hoping this will cool him down and make him wake up. After a minute of you doing this, Bill’s eyes slowly open.

You breathe a sigh of relief and glance over at your roommate, “He’s waking up.”

Chapter 5

Your roommate also sighs in relief. You look back at Bill, who finally has colour returning to his cheeks. He looks around, in confusion, then looks up at you.

“What happened?” He asks, his voice shallow and raspy.

“You passed out.” You answer, “You were coughing so hard, you made yourself faint.”

Bill looked away, either blushing from embarrassment or from his fever. You sigh and are about to speak when another coughing fit begins. You gently help Bill into an upright position, before handing him the cup of water. He gladly takes it and sips the water. Luckily, you stopped this coughing fit before it started to become dangerous, so Bill wasn’t breathing rapidly when the fit ceased.

When Bill held the cup in his hands, you could see the water rippling, meaning his hands were shaking. You gently place your hand on his shoulder and you can feel him shaking, despite him wearing a jacket.

You turn to face your roommate, “Could you do me a favour. Go back into the room and grab all of my belongs and bring them out here, please?”

“Sure.” Your roommate says, “But why?”

“I’m going to call a taxi and take Bill home.” You answer.

“No, you don’t have to!” Bill says, tapping your shoulder.

Your face becomes stern, “You can’t tell me you’re fine, when you just passed out, you’re burning up and your shivering, despite the fact you’re wearing a jacket. You’re sick, Bill. I’m taking you home.”

Bill wanted to argue, but knew you were right. He wasn’t feeling well and didn’t want to tell you in case you got upset. He gives in and gently nods, agreeing with you. Your roommate returns with your purse, which contained your phone, makeup and emergency money (Which you now needed to use). Your roommate also snuck a small plastic bag, filled with sweets (Candy) from the table, when you find it, she smiles at you.

“Enjoy.” She whispers before, walking back into the restaurant.

You sit, with Bill, in the outside seating area. You pull out your phone and call for an Uber. While you’re waiting, you can tell Bill is purposely not talking to you.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re sick?” You ask.

Bill turns to face you, “I didn’t want to ruin your birthday.”

“You should be more concerned about your health, than my birthday.” You answer, “What would have ruined my birthday, is if you ended up in hospital.” Bill sighed, “I still feel I ruined your birthday.”

You smile, “Alright Henry, you didn’t ruin anything.” Bill smiled, realising he was acting like Henry Pearl.

“As I said, you haven’t ruined anything.” You say, “I mean, look what you’ve done. Bought me a stunning dress, that I’m sure was expensive. Arranged a birthday dinner without me even knowing. You somehow were able to come, despite you being really unwell. You’ve already done so much for me and I’m more than satisfied.”

Your thankfulness just made Bill’s smile widen. He shudders and starts rubbing his arm with his other hand, trying to warm himself up.

“Do you want to go back inside until the Uber arrives?” You ask, “Its probably not good for you to be out in the cold.”

“No, its fine.” Bill answers.

You wait another minute and notice Bill is beginning to sniffle. You suspect he’s getting a runny nose from being in the cold. You grab Bill’s arm and gently pull him along with you and you walk back into the restaurant.

“I was fine out there.” Bill says, when you turn back to face him.

“You’ve got the sniffles from standing out in the cold.” You say, “There is no harm in just waiting inside for the Uber.”

“I guess you’re right.” Bill answers, “Again.”

Bill sniffles again, he blows his nose on the tissue, which was followed by a cough. He throws the tissue into a small metal bin, placed in front of the counter, then turns to face the road.

Chapter 6

The Uber took another 20 minutes to arrive. By the time it did arrive, Bill had gotten rid of his sniffles, by constantly blowing his nose and occasionally sneezing. All this had caused his nose to turn red and you can’t help giggling about it.

A black car pulled up outside the restaurant, a man rolled down the window and called your name. You grab Bill’s arm and walk towards the car. You greet the driver with a polite smile, before opening the car door and entering. Bill entered through the opposite door and sat in the seat beside you.

“Where to?” The driver asks.

You tell the driver Bill’s house address and he starts driving. About 10 minutes into the drive, Bill has another coughing fit, luckily the waiter (Who gave you the pitcher) gave you a bottle of water before you left. You open the plastic bottle and hand it to Bill. He gently takes it from your hand and sips it.

“You a little under the weather?” The driver asks, looking at Bill in his rear-view mirror.

“A little.” Bill answers, earning an unsatisfied look from you.

The driver falls silent for a minute, before asking Bill a question.

“I’m sorry, but I have to ask.” The driver says, “You’re not Bill Skarsgard, are you? The guy who played Henry Pearl in Battlecreek?”

“Yeah, that’s me.” Bill answers.

“I went to watch that film with my wife.” The driver said, “Really enjoyed it, I’m impressed with the accent you had in the film, compared to your regular voice.”

“Thanks.” Bill said, smiling.

“My wife loved the film, and really liked your character.” The driver continues, “She wants to meet you and normally I’d ask you to sign something for her. But since you don’t seem very well, I won’t bother you.”

“I appreciate that.” Bill says, followed by a few sharp coughs.

The rest of the journey, the driver didn’t speak. You talked with Bill, until he started to lose his voice. With all the coughing fits he’d had throughout the night; you’re not surprised by this. Bill still tries to talk with you, until his voice is almost completely gone.

“You’re losing your voice.” You say, “Stop talking before you lose it completely.”

Bill smiles and stops speaking. You sit in silence, for the remainder of the drive (Which was only another 10 minute) The driver stops outside Bill’s house, he turns to face you and asks you if this is the right address.

You glance out the car window, “Yes, thank you.”

You open your purse and pull out your emergency money, you have just enough to pay for the ride. You hand the money to the driver, open the car door and exit the car. You walk around to the other side of the car, where you meet Bill, as he exists the car. The driver rolls down the window and looks out at you and Bill.

“Hope you feel better soon, Mr Skarsgard.” The driver says, kindly.

Bill smiles and driver smiles back, he rolls the window back up and drives off. Bill looks back at you and the two of you walk up him driveway. When you reach the front door, Bill reached into his pocket and pulls out his house keys. But he drops the keys and suddenly starts swaying.

“Bill, what’s wrong?” You ask, worrying he might faint again.

“I feel dizzy.” Bill mumbles, his voice so quiet you could barely hear it.

Your brain immediately becomes panicked, you don’t want a repeat of what happened at the restaurant. You swiftly bend down, grab the keys and unlock the door. You wrap your arm around Bill’s shoulder and gently lead him into his house. Since you’ve been in Bill’s house before, you knew your way around. At first you think to take him to his bedroom, but looking at Bill’s flushed and exhausted face, you know he’ll probably pass out before he makes it up the stairs. So, you just lead him into the living room and gently sit him down on the sofa.

“How do you feel?” You ask, sitting beside him, “Has the dizziness stopped?”

“Yeah.” Bill answers, “I’m good.”

You sigh, “Don’t scare me like that. I was panicking enough when you fainted at the restaurant, I don’t know what I would do if you fainted again.”

“I’m sorry.” Bill says, guiltily.

“Well, you’re home now.” You say, “Lets just focus on getting you feeling better.”

Bill smiles weakly, clearly drained.

“You need some rest.” You say, “You look exhausted.”

Bill nods, “You’re right, I am exhausted.”

“Well, first off, give me your jacket and I’ll hang it up for you.” You say, reaching out your hand.

Bill takes off his jacket and hands it to you. You take it and when you look back at him, you see his shirt is drenched in sweat. His fever was making him sweat profusely, in an attempt to lower his body temperature.

You sigh, “You need to get changed, your shirt is drenched in sweat. Give me a minute and I’ll get you some clean clothes.” “I can get them.” Bill says.

“I don’t want to risk you passing out.” You say, “Just stay on the couch and I’ll get you some clothes.”

Again, Bill knows you’re right. He just sits back, leaning his head on a large pillow. You rush upstairs and into his bedroom. You hang the jacket up in his wardrobe, grab some clean clothes and rush back downstairs. Bill is sitting on the couch, shivering and grimacing. You can see the sweat dripping down his face and his cheeks turning a darker red.

You place the clothes on the coffee table and sit beside him. You gently place your hand on Bill’s forehead, checking his fever.

“Your fever’s getting worse.” You say, a little panicked, “We need to bring it down.” You jump up and rush towards the kitchen. You grab a tea towel from off the counter and run it under cold water. You wring out the excess water and run back to the living room. You sit back beside Bill and gently hold the damp cloth on his burning forehead.

“Thank you.” He mumbles, catching eyes with you.

“If your fever doesn’t go down, I might have to call a doctor.” You say, worried.

Chapter 7

You sit with Bill, pressing the tea towel of his fevered face, for about 10 minutes and his fever just wouldn’t go down. You realise that you needed to cool down his entire body, not just his face. You cuss and Bill hears you.

“What is it?” he mumbles.

“Your fever isn’t going down.” You say, hiding your panic.

You sit beside Bill, silently panicking to yourself, when you finally have an idea.

“I think I might know what to do.” You say, hesitantly, “But I don’t think you’ll be comfortable with doing it.”

“If you can prevent me from going into hospital, I’ll do anything.” Bill mutters.

Before you go ahead with your plan, you feel Bill’s forehead, to know whether or not your plan works. Bill’s fever is getting to such a high temperature, he could start becoming delirious. You stand up and run into the bathroom, grabbing a large towel. You turn on the cold tap and let the bath fill about an inch deep. You then submerge the towel in the cold water, before wringing it out.

You hang it over your shoulder and rush back to Bill, who is extremely flushed and close to losing consciousness. You sit down beside him and gently place your hands on his shoulders.

“I need to remove your shirt,” You say.

Bill looks at you, confused.

“Where am I? Who are you?” He asks.

You cuss, he’s delirious. You grab the rim of his shirt and begin to pull it up and over his head. You lay the soaking wet shirt on the sofa next to you, then you gently wrap the damp, cold towel around Bill. The towel is large enough to complete wrap around Bill, covering both sides of his torso.

Because you submerged your hands in the cold water as well, your hands are icy cold. You gently place your palms against Bill’s cheeks, both cooling him and monitoring his fever. The two of you sit in silence, you focus on if Bill’s fever drops and Bill to exhausted to even talk. You sit in this position for about 15 minutes, until you finally feel Bill’s fever dropping.

“Thank God.” You sigh, feeling relived.

“Y/N, is that you?” Bill mumbles, his delirium finally ceasing.

“I’m here.” You say, feeling the panic washing away.

Bill looks down and sees that he’s shirtless and has a damp towel wrapped around him.

“Your fever was getting dangerously high and it was making you delirious.” You explain, “I needed to cool you down, before you ended up needing an ambulance.”

Bill could hear the panic in your voice, he knew that he must have scared you. You see Bill’s guilty expression, which makes you sigh.

“I think it would be best if you just get some sleep.” You suggest, “But just sleep on the couch for now, I don’t want to risk anything else happening.”

You stand up and walk upstairs, you first pull the covers off his bed, then take the two pillows as well. You also grab a T-shirt from the wardrobe, not wanting to make Bill be shirtless while he slept. Carrying all the items you’d taken; you walk back downstairs. You let out a sigh of relief when you see Bill in the exact same condition as when you left him. He was shivering a little, but you weren’t worried, he was still shirtless.

“Here, put this on.” You say, handing Bill the T-shirt.

“Thank, Y/N.” Bill says, taking the shirt from your hand.

While Bill puts the shirt on, you gently place the pillows on the couch behind him. He lies down, gently placing his head on the soft pillows. You lay the covers over him, making sure his body is fully covered.

“Do you mind if I sleep in the guest bedroom?” You ask.

“Be my guest.” Bill answers, glancing up at you.

“Call me if you need anything.” You say, turning away.

“Thanks for this, Y/N.” Bill says, shutting his eyes.

You smile and walk towards the downstairs guest bedroom. You grab your purse and take out your phone. You dial your roommate’s number, to update her on the situation. She answers immediately.

“Hey, Y/N.” Your roommate says, “How’s everything going?”

You sigh, “Its been a rough night, but everything is fine now”

“What happened?” Your roommate asks.

“I almost ended up calling an ambulance because Bill’s fever was getting dangerously high.” You explain, “But everything is fine now.”

“Good God!” Your roommate exclaims, “How’s Bill now?”

“I finally got him to sleep.” You explain, “But I’m going to stay with Bill until he’s feeling better, so do you mind bringing me some clothes over?”

“Sure.” Your roommate, “See you in 10.”

My roommate hung up, I placed my phone on the bed and snuck out of the guest bedroom. You tiptoe past Bill, who was fast asleep on the couch. You briefly smile, before continuing your way to the front door. You wait at the front door for exactly 10 minutes, before your roommate arrives. You open the door, hug your roommate and take the bag of clothes she brought.

“Here.” She suddenly says, handing you a small plastic bag.

“What’s this?” You ask.

“Once the rest of our friend found out Bill was sick, they insisted on me giving you those.” Your roommate explains, “Its home remedy ingredient, medicines and other items they believe can help Bill.”

You open the bag and inside is cough medicine, ibuprofen, aspirin, fever patches, a home remedy recipe and a few ingredients and cans of soup, all supplied by your friends.

You smile, “Tell them all I’m very grateful, and I’m sure Bill would be grateful as well.”

Your roommate smiles back, “We’re glad we can help. Now, I’ve got to go, I’m tired. But feel free to call me if you need anything.”

“Thanks again.” You say, “Bye now.”

Your roommate turns and walks away, you shut the door and walk back inside. You walk into the kitchen and carefully lay all the items on the counter, before heading back into the guest bedroom. You change into some pyjamas that your roommate brought and you settle down to sleep. It takes you a while to drift off because you’re still worrying about Bill, but you assure yourself he’s fine.

Chapter 8

You wake up at around 8 am. When you open your eyes, a brief feeling of confusion crosses your mind because you don’t recognise your surroundings, but soon remember where you are. You sit up and suddenly remember why you’re here. You jump up and walk out into the living room, finding Bill still asleep on the couch. You smile and head towards the kitchen. All the items you were given last night are laid out on the counter. You decide to make the home remedy your friend supplied you with.

You’re sure it works, because you have used it before. It consists of ginger and Coke, which is an odd combination, but it works. You follow your friend’s recipe, using the ingredients they supplied and soon enough, the weird remedy is done. You pour it into a large cup and gently carry it into the living room, being careful not to burn your fingers. You sit on the edge of the couch, place your hand in Bill’s shoulder and gently shake him awake. He groans and slowly opens his eyes, making eye contact with you,

“Morning.” You say, “How do you feel?”

“A little better.” Bill answers, smiling.

You hold the cup in one hand and gently place the back of your other hand on Bill’s forehead.

“You’re still feverish.” You say, “But you’ve cooled down a little from last night.”

“What’s in the cup?” Bill asks.

“Well, my roommate came by last night, to give me some clothes.” You explain, “Once my friends found out you’re sick, they wanted to help, so gave me a bag of things they believe will help you get better. This is a home remedy my roommate uses to help with fevers, she gave me the recipe and the ingredients to give to you.”

You gently hand the cup to Bill and he gladly takes it. He drinks from the cup, before leaning over and placing it on the coffee table. He was about to speak, when several sharpe coughs interrupted him.

“Your cough has come back.” You sigh, “I’ll be right back.”

You stand up and walk back into the kitchen, you grab the bottle of cough medicine of the counter and head back into the living room. You sit down in the same place, before reading the instructions on the medicine bottle.

“Is that cough medicine?” Bill asks.

You nod, “Another thing my roommate gave me.”

You open the bottle and find a small plastic spoon inside the lid, it measured the correct doses of the medicine, without the need of a syringe. It says on the back of the bottle, an adult male should take two spoon fulls of the medicine. You say this information aloud and obviously Bill hears you.

“I can measure the dose.” He says, gently taking the bottle from your hand.

“Good.” You say, “Just take the same dosage twice a day and your cough should get better.”

“Thanks, Y/N” Bill says, pouring the thick cough medicine onto the spoon.

“My friends also got you a few painkillers,” You explain, “As well as a pack of fever patches and a few cans of soup.”

You were explaining this to Bill because, although he deeply appreciates your help, he is still embarrassed about you taking care of him for several days until he gets better. So, you’re telling him this, so he knows what to do when you’re gone.

Once Bill had taken the dosage of medicine, he places the bottle on the coffee table and looks back at you.

“I don’t want to keep you here,” Bill says, “I can take care of myself from here, thanks Y/N.”

“You sure?” You question.

Bill nods, “I’ll be fine.”

“Alright, but call me if you need anything, okay?” You say.

“I will,” Bill answers, “But I’ll be fine.”

You smile, stand up and head to gather your things. As you walk towards the door, you leave something on the dining room table. The bag of sweets your roommate gave you last night. You were giving them to Bill, as both, a way to say thank you for all he did for your Birthday and as a get well soon gift. You check on Bill one last time, he had turned on the Television and was drinking the ginger/coke mixture you gave him.

“Get better soon.” You say, gently placing your hand on Bill’s shoulder.

“Thanks, Y/N” Bill answers, smiling.

You walk towards the door and leave the house, you call and Uber which takes you to your apartment. You roommate is surprised to see you, to which you explain that Bill can take care of himself and didn’t need you to look after him for several days.

Afterward

Bill was unwell for a week an a half, texting you every day to sure you he was fine. Once Bill was completely healthy again, you find out about a new role he is about to audition for. Pennywise, the dancing Clown from the It. You wish Bill luck as he goes for his first audition and you wonder if he’ll get the role.

[ladyfogg]

Cold is the Night - 1/20

Cold is the Night - 1/20

Fic Summary: You and Pat have known each other for years but this summer, everything will change. As the two of you start to grow close, your matching tempers threaten the foundation of your rocky friendship and prevent both of you from realizing your true feelings. Cold is the Night Masterpost. 

A/N: I was going to wait to post this next week but ended up finishing it early. So, enjoy! Hope you guys like it!

Fic Song:  Cold is the Night by The Oh Hellos

Pairing: Pat Murray/Female Reader

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Language, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Multiple Chapters

Gif by @joe-mazzello

It was the hottest day of the summer and Pat Murray thought he might melt. Literally, melt.

The D-Backs weren’t even supposed to be on the field but Ty had insisted they needed the practice. No amount of whining or convincing could change his mind, not even from Maz.

Pat stood just outside the dugout in the bright sun, sweat dripping down his face, his uniform stuck to him unpleasantly. 

“Come on, Murray, hurry up and hit something so we can get out of here!”

“Shut the fuck up, Palacco!” Pat snapped. He was the last to practice and had been at the plate for far too many swings. The rage and anxiety had long since taken over, made ten times worse by the heat. He had stepped away for a moment, hoping that would help. But it hadn’t. 

He took a deep breath but the air was so thick it did nothing to help. He stepped back up to the plate, took a few practice swings, raised his bat…and missed again.

“That’s okay, that’s okay,” Ty assured him as Pat let out a string of swears. “Try again.”

“Ty, dude, why can’t the rest of us go?” Zapata asked. “We’ll die of heat if we have to wait for Murray.”

“Fuck you, Zapata!”

“Hey! No one’s going anywhere!” Ty snapped. “We start practice together and we end it together. Now shut it!” He gestured to Dells who looked just as exhausted as Pat felt. 

Dells sighed and wound up another pitch. Pat’s hands were so sweaty, the bat was sliding against his palms. He gripped it as tight as he could, readied his body for the throw…

“Vinnie, what the fuck? You said you’d be done an hour ago!”

At the sound of your voice, Pat swung wide, missing Dells pitch by a long shot. The bat flew out of his sweaty hands and soared through the air, hurtling straight toward you. “FUCK!”

You saw the bat just in time to jump out of the way. “Shit!”

“Ey, Murray, be careful! You almost hit my baby sister!” Vinnie exclaimed dramatically. He pulled you against his gross chest protectively. “You poor baby! Did the mean ginger hurt you?!”

“Vinnie, g'off!” You struggle against your older brother, punching him in the rib to get him to let go. “I’m not even that much younger than you!“ 

Pat was furious with himself and unloaded his rage into a colorful array of swears. “Fucking fuck shit balls, fuck! Fucking idiot!”

“Alright, we’re done,” Maz declared, getting off the bench and swinging his bag over his shoulder. 

“We’re not leaving yet!” Ty exclaimed.

Maz fixated him with a stern look. “Ty, we’re done,” he repeated. “It’s too hot, Murray is losing his shit, and we’re all going to get heatstroke if we don’t get inside soon.”

Ty could never argue with Maz. With a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumped in defeat as he nodded. “Yeah alright. Garvey, Dells, bring it in. Everyone’s dismissed.”

An eruption of cheers interrupted Pat’s continued tirade. Still fuming, he headed for the shade of the dugout, throwing his helmet against the chain-link fence.

“Aww, don’t worry, little buddy! Someday you’ll hit the ball!” Vinnie cooed. 

Pat felt bad enough as it was but to hear Vinnie tease him in front of you made the whole situation unbearable for reasons he couldn’t quite understand.

You elbowed your brother. “Stop being an ass. Come on, let’s go. I’m tired of waiting for you.”

“Ooo, yeah, about that…” Vinnie gave you a sweet smile. “I forgot to text you. I’m going with Ty to meet up with Nellie. Sorrrryyy!”

Pat’s own rage settled as he watched yours build. You rounded on Vinnie, eyes flaring. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?! I waited for no goddamn reason?!”

“Aww, don’t be upset!” Vinnie reached out to squish your cheeks, something he knew you absolutely hated. “Now give your big bro a biiiig smile!”

Without warning, you pounced on him, knocking him into the dirt. Vinnie tried to fight you off as the two of you wrestled in the dirt, a common occurrence to everyone who knew you. 

Pat gathered his things while the other guys laughed He just wanted to go home and forget about his miserable performance. He slipped away before anyone could notice.

He loved baseball with every fiber of his being and yet he couldn’t hit the ball even if his fucking life depended on it. There was nothing else he’d rather do. He just wished he had half as much talent as some of the other guys.

He didn’t usually drive to the field since his house was so close. But he would have if he had bothered to check the weather before he left. A thought that had suddenly occurred to him as he reached the parking lot.

“Great. Just fucking great." 

He was beyond exhausted and now had to walk home. He didn’t want to text his dad to come and get him, seeing as he was a fucking adult. Which left the one option. In theory, he could ask one of the guys but he couldn’t bear the thought of being alone with them, knowing they’d tease him, or worse, try to give him advice. 

Pat was just contemplating if he could make it without passing out when a voice sounded behind him.

"Hey, Pat. Need a ride?”

He turned around to find you standing behind him. Your jean shorts and tank top were caked with dirt and sand, both of which were smeared across your face and in your hair. 

Pat swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the hammering of his heart. “Nah, I’m fine. I’ll walk.”

“The hell you will! It’s hot as balls!” you said, pushing past him. “Come on, my car is right over here.”

A million protests came to mind, only a few having to do with the heat. He could only imagine the comments from the guys if they saw him and you getting into a car together. Vinnie would definitely have a few words.

But with a cloudless sky and temperatures pushing mid-90s, he couldn’t bring himself to refuse. “You sure?" 

"Yeah. Since my shitty brother made me come over here, I might as well give someone a lift." 

Pat looked up at the sun and then back to your retreating frame. "Thanks,” he muttered, falling into step with you.

Your car was already running and when Pat climbed in, he was met with a blast of cold air. “Shit that’s nice.”

You laughed as you climbed into the driver’s seat. “Right? Okay. Where to?”

Pat gave you his address and sat back as you pulled out of the parking space. He scanned the direction of the field, praying no one had seen the two of you together. The guys were just cresting the hill, Maz in the lead. They seemed too preoccupied talking to each other to notice him in your car.

As you drove in silence, Pat realized it was the first time the two of you had ever been alone. You had known of each other for a long time, had met on several occasions, but that was the extent of your relationship. He realized he knew very little about you. 

Stealing a glance, he studied your profile, eyes taking in the features he had admired from afar. Maybe not admired, but definitely noticed. You focused on the road, singing along with whatever song was on the radio. He didn’t recognize it.

“Tough practice?” you asked.

Pat scowled and remained silent, his anger at himself flaring back up and forcing him to look away. 

“That bad huh?” You drummed your hands on the steering wheel as you pulled up to a red light. “I forgive you then. You know, for almost killing me with a bat.”

“Oh shit! I’m sorry!” Pat exclaimed. He had completely forgotten about that and now he felt a thousand times worse. “God, I’m such a fucking idiot!”

“Relax, I was teasing,” you said, stepping on the gas. “It was my fault for standing outside the dugout. I’ve been around you assholes long enough to know shit goes flying.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose. It’s so goddamn hot, the bat slipped.”

“Isn’t that why you’re supposed to wear gloves?”

“I forgot them.”

“Probably don’t do that next time.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Tension filled the tiny space between you two as Pat sat stewing in his own anger. Sometimes it felt like he couldn’t do anything right.

“You’re brooding.”

Pat glared at you. “I’m pissed off. I’m allowed to brood.”

“Well don’t, you’ll get wrinkles.”

“Don’t you start with me too. I’ve had a shitty day.”

“Well, let’s talk about it. You’ll feel better if you let it out.”

Pat looked at you in surprise. His angry outbursts were well known to anyone who had seen him play. Most of the time he was told to calm down, not keep going.

“Fucking fuck!” he exclaimed, yanking his hat off and throwing it against the dashboard. “I’m such a fucking loser! God, no matter what I do I can’t ever get a fucking hit! Most of the time I can’t even get close!”

“Hey you got close to hitting me, that’s something!”

Pat glared at you and you gave him the same shit-eating grin your brother was famous for. “It’s not the fucking same. If almost hitting people with bats counted I’d have been drafted years ago.”

You laughed. “In all honesty though, I know you can do it.”

“How? You barely know me.”

“I’ve been to plenty of games over the years, I’ve seen you play more times than I can count. You hit when you’re not psyching yourself up. You just have to stop overthinking it.”

There it was, exactly what he didn’t want to deal with. Unsolicited advice. “Thanks for telling me the same thing I’ve heard over a thousand times before. Really helps.”

“Fuck you, I was just trying to make you feel better.”

“Well, it didn’t work.”

The rest of the drive was done in silence. When you pulled into Pat’s driveway he sighed with relief. All he could do was think about taking a long shower and passing out for a few hours.

“Thanks for the ride,” he muttered, grabbing his bag.

“Yeah, sure.”

As he opened the car door and climbed out, the heat blasted him in the face, making him grimace. The stark change reminded him how lucky he was he didn’t have to walk home. 

She really didn’t have to drive me and then I go snapping at her. Well fucking done, Murray.

Pat paused on his way to the front door before he turned around to go apologize. But you had already driven away. Cursing under his breath, he headed into the house.

[buddyxcollyhollis]

@writervega once upon a time ago you commented on a Drabble about just how Buddy and Helene got to the aftermath of losing Colleen. This finally came to me. The ending storm came from my father’s passing, I’d like to think God sent the rain to bring him home. There’s also a side tidbit about our dear Col, she was born during a rain storm. Could be why she loves the sound so much. 

All Ends Have a Beginning { When I’m gone verse } 

“Ruth…you seen my gloves?”

Humming softly to herself behind the morning paper she thought for a moment. Stretching her legs for a moment Buddy caught a glimpse of long lean dancer’s legs and he smiled. Sitting there in the morning light, hair mussed and slightly curled and back lit by early summer sunshine his wife was a vision to his eyes. 

“They should be out in the tool shed where you left’em, Bud.”

He felt her cool green eyes all but pin him to the spot. Her mind a steel trap as she took in his attire. Chaps and protective over vest and old beat up hat. He had gotten a call from his older brother  last night about helping him to break a bronco and maybe putting his name back in the hat. One last ride as it were before closing that chapter on the book of his life. His life could be exponentially shorted  judging by the looks his beloved bride was shooting his way. She was off like a shot towards the mounted phone on the wall before Buddy could even blink. 

“Clyde Nemual Hollis I’m just about fixing to come on down there and castrate you myself. Did you get Boaz to out his name into the hat?”

Boaz. She very rarely used his given name unless they were intimate or he found himself in a whole heaping helping of trouble and seeing as there wasn’t a bed or a hay pile in sight he guessed he’d better brace himself for her wrath because it was coming. He watched as her face softened for a moment. Clyde must have told her that it was just a bronc he needed help with. It was the truth and his Ruth respected his brother and the truth. Why would Clyde lie to her? He’d never had reason to before this and she’d known damn near twenty-two years at this point. 

“He hasn’t had anything to do with broncs since I quite racin’ barrels. You promise me you’ll keep him safe. But as long as it’s just bronc busting that you need help with. He so much as even looks at that bull I’ll be on you like white on rice you hear me?”

She hung up the phone and turned to him the sleeve of her cotton night dress had slipped off one of her slender gently tanned shoulders and she studied him just as intently. 

“How badly do you want this?”

Pulling her close he smiled and didn’t hesitate to answer. 

“As bad as I want you right now. This’ll be the last time, Ruth. I swear.”

Plucking the hat from his head she kissed him gently. 

“Alright, I’ll get you a new set of gloves from Danver’s Supply. I’ve got to go into town for a few things anyway today. You’ll watch Abel today?”

It wasn’t unusual for her to venture into town on her own every now and then. It was the least he could do to keep their toddler entertained for a short amount of time. 

“ ‘Course. Cae said he’d be by with those picnic tables you wanted for the fourth. I think between the two of us along with my Clyde Abel’s going to be kept highly entertained until you get back.”

Satisfied she hugged him and took off upstairs to get ready for the day and check on a still slumbering Abel. 

The rest of the day was spent weeding the garden and repainting the chicken coop. Abel had just been fed and Colleen had just gotten off the phone with her mother when Buddy found himself with enough time to catch a second wind. 

“Looks like I’ve got to go into Wallace for a few things. Daddy’s got something going on with one of the hunting dogs and Mama can’t leave Granny at the moment. I’ve got to stop by Doc Hatcher’s the pharmacy for Granny’s medicines and then I’ll be over to Danver’s and down to the Publix. You’re sure that you’re okay to make dinner tonight? You look beat.”

It was true, all that time spent hunched over in the garden and then getting a call from their neighbor down the road to help with a calf birthing had taken it out of him but he persisted. He watched her watching the sky for any sign of rain. She had been watching weather forecasts and a drought was nearly called. Leave it his wife to worry about just about everyone and everything, even her own garden. 

“I’ll be fine ‘sides it’s only a little after one. I’ll be ready to go by the time Cae and Clyde show up and I’m just reheating what you made. I’ll make sure Abe’s cleaned up afterward. Drive safe and I’ll see you ‘bout…”

“Shouldn’t be any later than five or five thirty. Unless Mama needs help getting Granny cleaned up. I’ll call you either way.” 

In a flurry of movement she did the usual little swing dance with Abel around the kitchen before depositing a kiss on the toddler’s chubby little cheek and putting him down to scamper off in search of the family dog. The song on the radio changed and before Colleen turned he grabbed her and gave her a twirl around the kitchen floor like he used to do when they went out on Friday nights. Clint had never sounded so good to their ears. 

I never liked the rain until I walked through it with you

Every thunder cloud that came was one more I might not get through

But on the darkest day there's always light, and now I see it too

But I never liked the rain until I walked through it with you

“Even the damn radio’s mockin’ me and my poor water deprived garden. Hopefully we’ll get something.”

“Your garden’ll be fine.”

“It’s not just the garden I’m worried about. I miss the sound of it at night. There’s nothing like the sound of a summer storm to help you sleep.”

He never would understand why his wife liked the rain or summer storms so much. Maybe one day he’d figure her out. 

She kissed Buddy as gently and sweetly as she always did before snagging his hat again and she was gone with a smile. 

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

He watched as she climbed behind the wheel of her truck. She honked her usual shave and a hair cut honk and away she went.  He didn’t know that that would be the last time he’d see her. 

Two o’clock rolled around and true to his word Buddy had gotten his second wind. Clyde came by as did Caleb and between the three of them they got the picnic tables set up for the gathering of the clans as Colleen had taken to calling their annual fourth of the July barbecue.  Clyde had forgone bringing the bronc anywhere near the Hollis farm and when asked about his he just shook his head. 

“Colleen mentioned snippin’ me so Waco can wait another day. Stop on by next week, Buddy. We’ll figure somethin’ out.”

Abel had taken to situating himself atop his uncle Caleb’s shoulders while winding down for an impromptu nap. Three o’clock came and went as did four and then five.  Dinner had been warmed up and the men had eaten and just gotten Abel to eat at least three big bites until the boy had become virtually inconsolable. Buddy figured it was just a case of being overtired and got the boy into the bath and ready for bed by six forty five. By seven Helene stopped over to see Colleen and was perplexed as to why she wasn’t home yet. A phone call from Col’s mother however worried each of them as Abel was passed around from person to person each trying his or her best to get him to settle.

“What do you mean she didn’t stop by? She’s not home yet here. She said she’d be back home around 5:30 at the latest. Maybe she ran into traffic or the truck was giving her some trouble?”

An hour later a vehicle pulled up into the side driveway and footfalls could be heard on the front porch. Jim Walker, a long time friend of both Buddy and Colleen and his deputy Red Gilley were the ones to break the news before the hospital even had a chance to call. 

“There’s been a bad accident and…Buddy it’s best that you come with us.”

Clyde had offered to stay with Abel while Caleb and Helene made the drive with him to St. Gabriel’s Hospital a county over. They met her parents there and joined at her bedside.  A whirl of activity and Buddy couldn’t understand a single word spoken to him. She had been an organ donor so there were papers to sign. Her body shutting down slowly, she wouldn’t make it through the night. Her Mama and her best friend combed out her long dark hair as Caleb and her father contacted the local minister. Buddy, never left her side and instead he sang to her. Softly, quietly and without shame. 

Precious Lord, take my hand

Lead me on, help me stand

I am tired,

I am weak,

I am worn

Through the storm, through the night

Lead me on to the light

Just as he finished the first verse a thunder clap could be heard before great drops of rain pattered against the double paned glass of the hospital room. 

“You got your wish, baby. Go with the rain. I love you, Ruth.”

[princessamericachavez]

sunlight | fjorester

Fjord goes to Jester after his last nightmare.

They have been staying in this new house for three days only but some things are beginning to feel like routine: Beau uses the training room before anyone else is awake and then greets them for breakfast, Caleb stays up in the library until ungodly hours, the house fills with the smell of tea every afternoon and the room to Jester’s room is always wide open. Fjord thinks it makes sense since she picked a spot high in a tower where no one usually passes by anyway, but there is something else about the gesture that seems oddly fitting to him. Still, he always tries to knock when he comes by to summon her for dinner or a group meeting, trying to respect her privacy.

Not today, though. Today, his knuckles stop inches shy from the door frame and he freezes there, looking at her. It’s not like he’s purposely spying on her, and it definitely has nothing to do with how pretty she looks with paint smudged on her face and the soft morning sun that comes in through her big windows framing her figure (today is one of the odd days that the Kyrnn allow light to reach the city, later they will go join their celebration of the Luxon to learn more about it), or because she just looks pretty like this. It’s not that at all, really. He just- He just doesn’t want to interrupt. 

She’s clearly busy, buzzing around from one wall to another, adding images to her new spaces, making it her own as she does with every room she steps into. She’s talking, too, chatting cheerfully with her god despite no one else being in the room. He’s only caught her talking to the Traveler a couple times before, this feels different. Fjord can’t quite put into words what it is about the whole scene that strikes a chord in him —that feels so different like he’s witnessing something no one else has had the privilege of seeing before. So he just leans against the doorframe and lets his eyes follow her around, as a fond smile tugs at his lips.

“Yes, yes, this will look so great, you’re gonna love it!” Jester says as she jumps over the bed to reach the opposite wall of the room. “I mean, I know we are probably not going to stay here, like, forever, you know? Because we have so many other things to do, but it’s kinda cool that we have a house again, don’t you think? And you can come to visit me more often and it will be just like old times. Well, almost, but better because we have more friends now. And also- oh, hi, Fjord!”

A smile shines across Jester’s face when her eyes land on him. He wonders if he should tell her about the strike of yellow across her cheek, but it looks nice on her so he decides against it.

“Have you been watching me paint?” She asks, tilting her head, and he could almost swear she sounds excited by the idea of him staring at her.

“No. I-I mean, yeah, but I just didn’t wanna interrupt,” he fumbles a little. “It was just for a couple minutes, really, not like I was trying to creep or anything, just-”

“It’s okay if you were,” she cuts him off, and he thinks she sounds breathless. Her eyes meet his for a longer moment than usual before a playful smirk takes over her features. “Though that wall was still fresh so you probably got your armor dirty.”

“What?” Fjord straightens and sees a pink smudge where his shoulder pad was touching the wall. “Oh, fuck.”

“You look like Caduceus, now,” Jester giggles.

Fjord rolls his eyes but can’t help but laugh with her.

“Did you want to see me?”

“Uh, yes, actually,” Fjord’s expression sobers up entirely as he remembers the reason for his coming here in the first place. “I was hoping we could have a word, in private.”

“Oh?” Jester, still smiling, wiggles her eyebrows at him. “You wanted to have a talk with me in my room all alone?”

He can feel his face burn at the implied suggestion in her tone. “Y-yeah, I guess. Or anywhere else really. I just- it’s something important.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Jester skips towards him, pulls him in with that unbelievable strength of hers, and closes the door shut. For a second, Fjord panics wondering if she might’ve gotten the wrong idea about his visit, but she only guides him towards a small table by the window and makes him sit down. “So, is this a secret?”

“Yeah, it is,” he nods, gathering courage. “I- I had another nightmare, the other day.”

“You had a new wet dream?!” 

Fjord closes his eyes and lets out a heavy sigh. There we go again with the jokes. He should really be used to it by now with her. When he opens his eyes again, though, Jester’s face is scrunched up into a frown. When she speaks, her voice is unusually quiet.

“Did he- did he kill you again in your dream?”

Fjord nods. “Drowned me,” he deadpans and keeps the more gory details for himself because Jester doesn’t need to worry about that more than necessary.

“Maybe we can talk with Mister Clay about giving you some special sleeping tea,” she says quickly. “Or maybe Caleb or Nott have a spell against bad dreams? Or we could try to make like, something that keeps him out of your head? Maybe like a lead hat, like the box where we were keeping the Luxon thingy?”

He shakes his head through all of her ideas but lets her go on until she runs out of them.

“Thanks, Jester, but it’s not the dreams I’m worried about. It’s what happened after.”

“What... what happened after?” Jester leans over the table slightly, face twist with so much worry that he almost bails. Almost. But this is Jester, and not once has she judged him or made him feel like the sad little lost boy that he still feels like some days. She watches him intently and any lies his silver tongue might have woven melt away on the spot.

“I woke up and my sword was out on the floor. I couldn’t poof it back in or out like usual, and I- I didn’t have my powers. Nothing. Nada.”

He can see horror spread through her face.

“Oh, no, Fjord! Did you lose your magic?!”

“For a while, but it’s back now, I think,” he says, and invokes some eldritch energy to his hand to reassure her. To reassure himself. “But I don’t know how long it’ll last. If I don’t do what he wants, I think Uk’otoa can just take it all away, leave me with nothing.”

“So... do you want to open the third temple?” Jester asks.

Fjord is taken aback by her suggestion. He hasn’t even considered the possibility, knows all too well what is at risk and even in his worst moments of panic he wouldn’t trade the world’s safety for his hearts deepest desires. What shocks him is the way that she asks, honestly, and that he can read clear as day in her eyes that she would do it, she would come with him and doom the world if he asked. The realization almost terrifies him, but he can’t tell if it’s the possibility of them ending the world or the unmeasurable size of her loyalty.

“No, Jester,” he rolls his eyes as if she’d said something ridiculous. “I’m not going to end the world to save my powers.”

Her shoulders relax.

“That’s good... but what are we going to do, then, Fjord? I mean, technically, I guess, if you run out of magic you could learn how to fight. Like, Beau and Yasha don’t really have magic, you know? And Nott, does, a little, but she also uses a lot of her bows and stuff. Or maybe you could learn new magic! Like Caleb’s! Or maybe you can find a different god or-”

“Jester,” this time he cuts her off, voice heavy and resigned to reality, “I can’t do that to y’all. Without my powers I’m- I’m just a sailor. That’s it. I would be a liability, put y’all at risk. I’d just get in the way.”

“Fjord!” Jester drags his name and he pauses when he recognizes a dash of indignation in her tone. Her hand reaches out and grabs his over the table, blue paint-covered fingers squeezing his with reassurance. He looks down at their intertwined hands, and back at her. Her violet eyes are firm and her expression gentle. “You are our friend! We are not going to just leave you somewhere because you have a little problem with your god. And we don’t hang out together just because we can kick ass, even though that’s pretty darn cool, really. We are a family, right? We are the Mighty Nein! And you are one of us, powers or not.”

Fjord can feel hot tears knotting in his throat, choking out his voice. He can feel the fear that has been eating at his heart for the past three days twist inside him. He’s not worthy of her trust, of these friends, of this place. Anything he has he owes to the powers of a capricious god that could take it all away in a blink. As his mask falls apart and his face decomposes, he ducks his head to hide the emotions burning through him.

All he sees now is Jester’s hand covering his. He turns inside her grasp to hold on to her too and she responds with a squeeze.

“We’ll figure it out,” she says. “I promise, okay?”

He nods, still not looking up.

“I’ll ask the Traveler about it, too. He’s a god, right? So he probably knows a lot about this kind of stuff, probably, or maybe he could help you somehow.”

“I’d appreciate that,” he admits. He’s still unsure about her deity, but at this point, nothing could be worse than the tightrope he’s walking with his own.

It’s the second time she asks her god to intercede for him, too. Something about it, about her going to her own god for his sake, warms him... and having seen the miracles she can perform with the Traveler’s help, he’s not about to reject any kind of help.

“Jester,” he says, unsure of how long he’s been silent, “would you mind not-”

“Not telling the others?” She says at the same time.

Fjord finally looks up and finds her looking at him intensely, one eyebrow arched. He nods.

“Sure, Fjord... though I’m sure they would want to help too.”

“I don’t want to worry them for now. Not until I know more about this, at least.”

“Okay,” Jester whispers with a smile tainted by sadness.

“Thank you, Jester.”

“Of course, Fjord. Thank you for telling me.”

“I’ll- I’ll let you get back to your painting. Your room is looking great, by the way. It’s very nice.”

“Thanks!” She cheers up. “I could also paint your room later, if you want! I could add a lot of seamen and swords and balls to it!”

He barks a laugh, standing up. She’s messing with him, he knows it, and appreciates it —if anything because it breaks the tension that’s been building inside him through this whole conversation.

“Tell you what, I’ll think about it and I might take you up on your offer,” he chuckles. He’s mostly kidding, but part of him thinks it might be harder to wake up terrified of his god if Jester’s mark is all around his bedroom when he does.

He waves a quick goodbye and makes his way out of the room. As he opens the door,  Jester calls for him one more time.

“Fjord!”

He turns around to look at her. She’s standing in the middle of the room as if she’d been about to follow him out and stopped midway through.

“Everything will be alright,” she says, “I promise.”

She gives him a reassuring smile. Fjord takes it all in, the sunflower-yellow smudge across her left cheek, the confidence in her voice, the brightness of the room bathing her with sunlight, and he believes her. The horror clawing at his heart disappears like the shadows of the Xhorhasian eternal night did this morning under the power of the sun. It feels like he’s filled with clear blue skies and hope again. He trusts Jester Lavorre more than anyone in this world, after all. If she says things will turn out okay, he believes her wholeheartedly.

[jjmichie]

The Day I Touched Eddie Vedder’s Ankle

March 25, 1992

It was cold, as March in Minnesota tends to be.  

But this March was colder than usual.  Brian was gone.  And I had a horrible case of mono that I had succumbed to immediately after he dumped me, which led me to drop the majority of classes I was taking that semester.  My financial aid situation was now a mess but I was too sick to go to work and my money supply was dwindling.  I had pushed my friends away.  I didn’t want to see anyone or talk to anyone or go anywhere or do anything.   

It had been this way for over a month.  I spent long days in bed, with barely the energy to eat or even sit up.  My muscles and my head and my whole body hurt whenever I tried to move or even think.  I couldn’t distinguish whether it was from the sickness or loneliness or aching for Brian but it didn’t matter.  I just knew everything hurt and everything felt dark, cold, empty, dead . . . hopeless.    

But sitting on the nightstand next to my bed were two tickets to an all ages show at First Avenue.  Pearl Jam.  It was coming up soon.  I really didn’t want to go.  I was supposed to be going with Brian.  We were supposed to go together.  We were supposed to BE together.  But the tickets continued to sit there, mocking me, reminding me of what my world had been just a short month ago, but now of what was gone, what was lost, and reminding me of how badly I had fucked it all up.  

But I also hated to let the tickets go to waste.  I had paid for them.  So, as a reluctant Plan B, I convinced my sister to join me.  She was older, but always seemed younger.  The kind of sister you end up scooping up off the floor of a closet at the end of the night when you bring her to a party, or who takes off on a motorcycle with a random guy she doesn’t know. or disappears for so long in a shopping mall that you end up freaking out and contacting mall security . . . but anyway.   

Night of the event.  I made myself pull out my standard rock concert clothes, which consisted of knee high black suede boots and a long black velvet jacket thing, which was tapered at the waist then flared out into a skirt in the most lovely feminine way.   It was adorned with brass buttons down the front, and two in the back. I loved that jacket.  It usually cheered me up every time I put it on.  But this time it didn’t.  This time I was just going through the motions.  

When we got inside the already-packed venue, I could immediately feel Brian.  I swear I could smell him.  I knew he was there.  There was no way he would miss this.   But he was upstairs, in the balcony where 21-year-olds were allowed, not corralled on the main floor, in the kiddie pen, where I was humiliatingly sequestered.  I let my head turn towards the balcony, let my gaze drift up there, as if I might see him.  As if he might see me and actually come down.  

Scrunching ourselves as best we could onto the main floor, my sister and I tried to push our way towards the stage, but didn’t get very far.   In fact, not very close at all.  In my weakened state I just didn’t have the energy.  We ended up in the back of the room, near the sound board, more Mike-side than Stone-side, although at the time I didn’t know the difference between the sides.  I didn’t know their names yet.  

“Oh weird,” I commented to my sister, as I looked around us.  “Every single guy here is wearing a flannel shirt.”  

She rolled her eyes at me. “Of course they are,” she said in her big-sister voice. “That’s what they wear now.”  

I hadn’t realized the extent to which Pacific Northwest attire had already permeated the burgeoning grunge crowd in the midwest.  For some reason I thought me and the Record Store Boys were the only ones who knew about this.  But it was literally Every. Single. Guy.  in the room was wearing plaid flannel.  When had this happened?  I felt kind of stupid, as I realized I was looking WAY out of place in my velvet finery.  

And it was interesting to note the ratio of males to females.  Easily over 80 percent male.  And most of the females appeared to be tag-along girlfriends.  Me and my sister were definitely the minority.  Which is weird when you think about it.  Given how handsome everyone in the band was, why weren’t there more girls?  

But then they started to play.  

We stood still, as did everyone around us on the floor, completely captivated by the unbelievable power that was suddenly filling the room and pelting us like someone had fired off a flurry of rockets.  We watched the surreal energy on the stage, bouncing, whipping their hair, growling out song after song.  All I could think was  . . .  WHUT!!!??!!! 

Mostly my eyes were glued to the lead singer.  It was hard not to stare at him.  He just completely broke the mold of what your typical rock star guy was at the time.  But I also remember the rest of the band, that Jeff was wearing a cool hat and looked so solid and muscular, although I didn’t know at the time that his name was Jeff.  (The advantage of being Mike-side is that you get Jeff too!)  And I remember the guitarist on the other side smiling.  Smiling.  And the way the guitarist on my side was belting out solos!  My god!  

I recognized most of the songs, because Brian had given me a homemade cassette tape (I couldn’t afford a CD player), which had Ten on one side and Nevermind on the other and I played it endlessly.  At first I had gravitated towards Nirvana, and only listened to the other side because it was too much of a pain in the ass to hit rewind and wait wait wait for it to get back to the beginning.  Might as well let the other side play.  But then something happened.  Something changed.  And the more I listened the more I liked it.  The more Brian played it, whenever we were together, alone in his room, the more it became my favorite.  Our favorite. 

But then Pearl Jam began playing the opening chords of Black.  

Shit. 

No.  

Don’t do this to me.  

I was instantly back in his bedroom, the CD player going.  Brian and I had come to agree at some point that Black was the best song on the album.  It was our song.  The song we made love to.  We didn’t realize everyone else felt that way too.  But from the cheer rising from the sea of flannel, it was obvious that this was a favorite of everyone at First Avenue.  Brian.  Brian.  I screamed for him with my mind, begging for him to hear me in his mind, and then I couldn’t see the band or the flannel or anything any more because my eyes were blurred and tears were gushing down my face blinding me and I missed him so much and I knew he was right above me hearing this too, hearing this right now.  All the love gone bad . . . Was he thinking about me too?  Why wasn’t he coming down the stairs?  I couldn’t go up, but he could come down if he wanted to.  He must have known I was there.  Why was he letting me cry alone?  Why did he leave me?  Why did I let him?  Didn’t any of it even matter to him?  . . . in somebody else’s sky . . . 

And my stupid sister didn’t even notice, and neither did all the flannel-clad minions who were trying inappropriately to mosh to this song, unable to contain their passion, unconcerned and not deterred by the slow melodicness that clashed ridiculously with their movements. 

End.  Please let this end.  

It did.  When Black finally ended I stood there, hearing the next song and the next, but still feeling sort of numb, not bothering to wipe away the mascara that now dirtied my cheeks.  

But a short time later my attention abruptly shifted from my own sorrow back to the lead singer, who, to everyone’s surprise, was leaving the stage.  Making his way toward the railing of the stairs, he began climbing.  He was climbing up the railing, up towards the balcony.  And all the flannel-clads turned their backwards-baseball-capped heads upward in unison to follow his progress.  

Meanwhile the First Avenue security guys looked at each other and then began  inching closer, inching their way over to the railing, looking serious, looking concerned.  What was this guy doing?  

He was now up on the balcony, but he was OUTSIDE the railing, on the tiny piece of floor that extended beyond it, barely enough room for his boot.  He must have been, I don’t know, 30 or 40 feet above us all.  His arm was wrapped around the railing to hold himself in place, and he turned around and looked down at us.  

This is my most vivid memory of the show.  The look on Eddie’s face.  The unbelievably intense look of concentration he gave the crowd while he looked down from that perch. He looked only mildly scared.  But you could tell he was assessing us, visualizing what he was about to do, and judging exactly where to jump and seeking out those he could trust, literally making eye contact with some key dudes, the bigger, taller dudes, with their hands raised, communicating silently with only his eyes, making sure it felt right. 

Once assured of that, once assured he could trust them, he turned back around, facing the balcony and the railing  . . . 

 . . . and he let go . . .  

I know logically that Eddie’s body must have followed the laws of physics and fallen at the normal speed that humans fall when they fall, but it didn’t seem that way.  He seemed to float.  The fall seemed to take forever.  He drifted down, arms outstretched, eyes closed (although I couldn’t see his eyes, somehow I knew they were closed), so elegantly, so delicately, like a snowflake.  

. . . and landed softly and securely on the hands of the big dudes he had just vetted.  From there a swarm of hands seemed to rise up out of nowhere and wave like seaweed in an ocean and before I knew it the graceful ragdoll was floating towards us.  My sister and I both stretched as far as humanly possible to reach out and touch touch touch!  I felt my hand on his skin, right above the line where his white sock met his bare flesh. Wet  Hot.  Solid muscle.  Coursing with life.  Wow . . . But I could only touch him for a few seconds before he floated on, was passed on, passed back towards the stage.  

My sister and I both gasped at our hands, staring at them, and holding them out in front of us, giggling with glee, feeling so ridiculously groupie, and realizing we were acting as dumb as the Beatles fans we used to make fun of on TV.  But the guys around us seemed to be having the same reaction too. They were thrilled to have participated.  Many of them were high-fiving each other with the hand that just seconds earlier had been connected to their new hero.  

I didn’t realize it until later, but at some point during the crowd-surfing ceremony, all of my thoughts of the guy upstairs were forgotten.  I no longer felt lonely.  I no longer felt sick.  I no longer worried about my missed classes or my dwindling bank account.  I no longer cared that my outfit was out of place.  There was no where in the world I would rather be than right there. Right then. On the main floor.  Participating.  Hearing this mind blowing shit kicking fucking awesome too good to be real music.  And reliving the feel of the delightfully sweaty ankle that I had just helped to push along.  

The ankle was now safely back where it belonged, up on stage with the smiling guitarist and the cool hat and the power power power that the whole band was thundering out, filling the small venue with ungodly energy and life.  

And as I listened to it . . . I let go too.  

I let go of the memories, of the loss, the despair, the darkness, the hopelessness, and let the flannel forest envelop me.  The group moved as one, and I was part of it, leaning on them, letting them lean on me, swaying with them, riding wave after wave of bliss and feeling every word and note and chord and drum pedal kick.  I let go and trusted them to support me and lift me . . . just like Eddie had done on the balcony. 

When it was over and we finally had to leave, we carried the energy and the high with us.  Totally happy.  Totally alive.  

Things turned around after that.  

The snow melted.  The sky was less dark.  I resumed classes and doubled up during spring semester in order to graduate on time.  I was so inspired by McCready that I ramped up my own electric guitar playing abilities and joined a band.  We actually played at First Avenue ourselves about six months later.  Granted it was just “new band night,” and granted, we were pretty shitty, but still.  I stood exactly where Mike had been standing.  Before long I fell in love with the singer/songwriter in my band and we are still living happily ever after, together after all these years. 

So . . . thank you Pearl Jam.  Really.  Thank you.  That night gave me the jolt I needed to pull myself out of a horrible place and find the strength to take control of my life and build a happy future for myself.  And my life has turned out pretty fucking good.  Thank you.  You made a huge difference.   

[everlarkficexchange]

The Virgin (Social) Suicides

WRITTEN BY: @ally147writes

PROMPT 85: Katniss makes unsettling discovery that everyone in her close and extended group of friends has dated at least once and sometimes even each other. Except for her. The “late bloomer” teasing (b/c she’s never even been kissed) stings. Older boy Gale crosses paths with group, finds he shares common interests with Katniss, they get together to hunt, leads to him casually inviting her out for a real dinner date. Not feeling desire but pressure to “get it over with,” she accepts. Peeta has regrets. [submitted by @567inpanem]

NOTES: I desperately wanted to have this complete, but uni conspired against me. A million thanks to our angel mods, @xerxia31 and @javistg for holding this exchange, and allowing the extra week 😊

This is parts one-and-a-half (ish?) of a (probably?) four-part story. I won’t be posting to AO3 or anywhere else until the rest of it is complete. Parts 2, 3 and 4 are all between 30% and 75% complete already, so hopefully it won’t take me too long to wrap up.

Unbeta’d. All errors are my own.

Rated M for swears and discussions of sex (or lack thereof)

Thom and Lavinia’s engagement party is a sedate affair, which Katniss never would have guessed. Whenever Thom or Lavinia were left in charge of planning anything, it always started with them drowning themselves in cheap beer at Abernathy’s, got a bit muddy somewhere in between, and ended in a trip to the hospital for someone to get their broken wrist or dislocated shoulder set.

And once, to the police station, to face indecent exposure charges.

The doing of their mothers, Katniss supposes. (Probably a smart move, considering the alternatives; no one’s engagement party should end in a holding cell). They’re perched by the string quartet, amongst a cluster of white rose bushes, their oversized, feather-trimmed hats knock against each other’s with every exaggerated, bird-like nod and squawking laugh they release, while their husbands make awkward small-talk by the fence overlooking the golf course.

How they’re out there like that in the sun, in dark suits and all, Katniss has no idea. She dabs a napkin across her damp hairline and peels her sticky skin away from the plastic of the chair. An afternoon in the sprawling gardens of the Snow estate, when it’s pushing a hundred degrees out, isn’t exactly her idea of a good day — if she weren’t part of the bridal party, Katniss would have skipped out hours ago. Add that to the cocktail dress she all but shoved her body into and the hair that’s falling out of her braid and sticking to her glossed lips, she’s about ready to revolt.

But, she concedes, Thom’s parents are loaded up to their eyeballs, and they’ve made sure there’s free — mercifully cold — booze everywhere, so bottom’s up.

The happy couple don’t seem to mind the heat, or the change in pace too much. The groom-to-be dips his laughing bride over his arm and kisses her square on the lips, swaying along to the soft tones of the violin strings, the intimate connection between them somehow the simplest thing in the world. The scene should inspire at least a smile — she’s happy for her friends, right? But it tugs somewhere deep at Katniss instead, unrelenting and unrepentant, leaving behind an odd sort of hollowness, demanding more yet leaving her starving for… something.

“They’re sweet together, aren’t they?” says Madge as she sips her champagne.

Katniss shakes her head, but she can’t stop the nagging in her gut. “Yeah, I guess. It’s a little sickening, actually.”

“You would say that, wouldn’t you?”

“What? They’re hunting for each other’s intestines through their mouths.”

“You are absolutely disgusting.” Madge swipes a celery stick from their shared crudité platter and nibbles at it like a rabbit. “Please stop speaking.”

“I’m still not wrong.”

“I guess it is kind of funny, though,” Madge goes on, chomping through the celery. “You’d never guess he could be so doting. I mean, when I dated Thom, the nicest thing he ever did for me was give me the olives off his pizza.” She sighs and smiles an odd little smile as Katniss’ hand freezes with a cherry tomato halfway to her mouth. “I guess it really does change everything when you meet the right person.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” She drops the tomato, and it bounces off the table and lands on the floor, where someone will slip on it later, probably her. “You dated Thom? As in, Thom, Thom?”

Madge arches a plucked brow. “Well, yeah, a while ago now, not long after we first started college. Well before Lav was in the picture, if that’s what you’re worried about. I thought you knew about it; we were all friends then.”

Katniss frowns and tries to dredge the memory — what would Thom have looked like then? Was this during his mohawk days, or after? “For how long?”

Madge quirks her head to the side, and not a single strand falls out of her intricate up-do. “I don’t know. A few months, maybe? Not a long time.”

Katniss taps her index finger — unadorned with polish, to Prim’s everlasting dismay — against the pristine surface of the timber table. “Is it… weird? Being friends with him now, I mean?”

Madge laughs. “Kat, if it was weird to hang out with someone I’d dated before, I’d have to find a whole new group of friends.”

“Why?” Madge smiles that weird little smile again, and the urge to slap it off is overwhelming. “How many of them have you gone out with?”

“Uh…? Let’s see.” Madge counts them off on her fingers, like there’s a real need to keep track of them. “Thom, Darius, Gloss. Leevy a couple of times, too, but that was over pretty much as soon as it started. Oh, and Peeta once, as well.”

Katniss chokes on a piece of cucumber. Oh, god. “Peeta, too?”

“Yeah. What’s the matter, Katniss?” Madge flashes another grin as Katniss knocks back a hearty sip of her drink. “Jealous?”

“No!” she exclaims. But without even meaning to, she finds Peeta across the courtyard, where he’s entertaining Lavinia’s many nieces and nephews with embarrassing Dad-style magic tricks. The sleeves of his starched, pale blue dress shirt are pushed up around his elbows, and there’s a rogue curl stuck with sweat against his forehead. He meets her eyes and smiles at her, as warm and tangible as a touch. Her cheeks flood with heat and she tears her gaze away. God, it’s like they’re in school all over again.

Madge shoots a grin Katniss can only describe as shit-eating, and it’s all she can do not to throw her remaining champagne in Madge’s face.

“No, of course you’re not,” Madge says, like she’s talking down a screaming child. “That would mean you had a soul or something.”

There’s nothing she can say now that wouldn’t incriminate her further. Katniss turns to the dripping glass of ice water at her elbow and drains it.

“Well…” she says, once she’s certain the nuclear blush on her cheeks is under control. “Why’d you only go out with him once?”

Madge smiles that stupid little smile again. The secret one Katniss has no insight to or context for.

“Peeta’s… very sweet. He’ll make the girl he’s got his eye on extremely happy.”

The words are innocuous, but something in Katniss seizes urgently. “Peeta’s got someone in mind?”

Madge nods and adds solemnly, “Has done for years now.”

“Years?” There’s no good reason why this information should make her want to break something. None at all. “Why won’t he make a move?”

Madge snorts, and the sound is weird coming out of someone so refined. “Honestly?” she says, as she flags down a waiter for another class of champagne. “I’d say he’s terrified. The girl isn’t exactly one who’ll take his declaration with open arms.”

She shouldn’t — she knows she doesn’t want to — but she prods anyway. “You know who she is?”

“She was pretty much the basis of our one and only date. He didn’t think he had a chance, needed someone to wallow with, that sort of thing.” Madge smiles a dreamy sort of smile and tips her eyes closed. “God, we got so drunk.”

“…And?”

“I’m not going to tell you!” Madge nudges her with her bony elbow, but the effect is ruined by the draping, bell-sleeves of Madge’s deep-aubergine dress. “Ask him yourself if you’re that curious.”

Yeah, there’s not a prayer in hell of that happening.

“So,” Katniss says instead. “Have our friends always been so… incestuous?”

Madge rolls her eyes and, for the first time since this awkward line of questioning began, looks vaguely annoyed. “Katniss, what’s the problem? I’m pretty sure Annie and Finnick are the only other completely monogamous people we know. Johanna’s dated pretty much everyone, too. Cato made the rounds too, before he got his shit together with Clove. Darius dated Lavinia, too, when he and Thom were roommates. That’s how she met Thom in the first place.”

“So… yes?”

Madge laughs and sighs at the same time. “It’s people in their mid-twenties being people in their mid-twenties. Honestly, I’m surprised you never noticed before — it’s not like Johanna’s discreet about it or anything — but I guess you’ve always been a bit…”

“A bit what?”

“A bit… I don’t know… pure, I guess?”

“Pure?” She spits the word out like poison and leaves it in the air.

Madge pats her arm. “There’s nothing wrong with pure, Kat. It’s just… we’re twenty-five now, you know? You don’t need to be so embarrassed about anyone else’s love life. Hell, maybe we should get you a nice date of your own, so you’ve got something else to focus on.”

Heat crawls up her chest and settles in her face. Her fancy cocktail dress feels way too small and way too hot.

“Uh…”

“Kat…”

“… Yeah?”

“You have gone on a date before, haven’t you?”

“I… uh… no?”

She’s not sure why it comes out as a question. She sure knows about her complete and total lack of love life; no need to have other people confirming it for her.

Madge’s jaw drops. “You’re kidding.”

“Why would I joke about that?” she retorts. “And we’ve been friends for how long, now? How didn’t you notice?”

“I don’t know! It’s just that…” She scrutinises Katniss like she’s a wayward science experiment. “Really?”

Katniss rolls her eyes. “Yes, Madge. Really.”

“Not even in college? No one? Nothing?”

“Is it so hard to believe?” Katniss snaps. “No, Madge. I have never, not once, ever gone on a date.”

 “Well, you’ve… you’ve at least had sex before, right?”

Heat fills her cheeks until she’s sure she’s about to melt from the pain of it all, though she’s got no idea why it embarrasses her so much. It’s normal, right? Or normal-ish, at least. And it’s not like she planned on it happening. Or not happening. Whatever.

Her virginity isn’t some sacred, precious jewel she’s carting around in a bubble wrap-lined basket. And it’s not something she’s hoarding, just so she can get down on bended knee and present it to The Right Guy when The Right Moment comes along. It’s not a personal choice, a feminist statement or even a religious one. The opportunity to do so just hasn’t… come up, so to speak.

And it’s fine. She guesses. Most of the time, it doesn’t even bother her. She’s had enough going on in her life that it isn’t something she’s missed, or even had time for. And it’s not like she’d be any good at any of it, anyway. The hand-holding. The intimacy. The kisses.

The sex.

The mere idea almost makes her shudder. She’d suck. And not in the sexy way.

It might be nice. Maybe. One day. When she’s good and ready to make it happen.

Until then, though…

“Uh…”

Madge’s bright blue eyes blow wide. “Katniss!” she shrieks.

A hundred people turn and stare at them, Peeta included, not even slightly helping her blush to fade faster.

“For the love of God, Madge, would you keep it down?” Katniss swats at Madge’s arm and hisses down at the table, “No, I’ve never done… anything.”

Madge lowers her voice to a harsh whisper. “Not even kissed?”

Right on cue, Thom kisses Lavinia again, long enough for it to get awkward. Katniss scowls and looks away. “No, Madge,” she mumbles. “Not even kissed. Or held hands. Or hugged or by someone who wasn’t an immediate family member.”

“What about yourself? Do you masturbate?”

“Fucking hell, Madge, really?”

“Okay, sorry. I just…” Madge gives a tight laugh and shakes her head. “I… You cannot be serious right now.”

“What part of this is so hard to believe?”

“I don’t know. I mean, you’re gorgeous, for one. A great person, kind, generous, brave, loyal to a fault. Anyone would be lucky, you know?”

Katniss snorts and drags a carrot stick through a warm bowl of hummus. Why couldn’t they have held the party indoors, like normal people? Yeah, maybe she’d still be getting the third degree, but at least the condiments might be cold. “Yeah, no. I don’t think so.”

“Well,” Madge starts, leaning in so they’re a hairsbreadth apart. “Have you ever… you know, wanted to?”

There’s no right way to answer that question. If she says yes, she’s as doomed as if she answers no. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

“Are you…” Madge stops, starts, opens and closes her mouth like a fish blowing bubbles. “Have you ever thought that you might be ace or something?” She holds up her hands and all but yells before Katniss can say anything, “Not that there’s… it doesn’t matter if you are or anything like that, I just thought… maybe you’re —”

“— No,” Katniss cuts in, before Madge can hurt herself. “I’ve had… you know, crushes and stuff before, I’ve just never been in a relationship, and I wouldn’t have rejected one if it came along.” She shrugs. “It just never did, and I’m okay with that.”

But, is she? God, and she’s always thought of herself as an enlightened, modern, don’t-need-no-man sort of woman, too.

“Honestly, Kat? You’ve probably been hit on a thousand times, but it never registered in your head that it was even happening to you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that… I don’t think you’re aware of the effect you have on people, that’s all.”

Katniss frowns at the wilting crudité platter. “You’re making me sound like a heartless bitch.”

Madge rolls her eyes. “Of course, you’re not a heartless bitch. I’m just saying you should… I don’t know… open your eyes a little, take a second look, you know? Someone might really surprise you one day.”

Again — completely against her will, she swears — she finds Peeta across the courtyard. This time, he doesn’t look up from pulling a coin from a little girl’s ear. “I’ll think about it.”

“You definitely won’t, but I’ll give you a pass for tonight.”

Katniss cringes. “You’re not going to make it your mission to get me laid, are you?”

“This isn’t a shitty eighties movie, Katniss,” Madge says as she pushes her seat away from the table and stands on her ridiculous four-inch heels. “So, no. I’m not going to try and get you laid. Now, let’s go dance or something; it’s a party, for God’s sake.”

XXX

The next time they’re all together, at a reasonable temperature and in normal clothes, Katniss surveys her friends with a strange, acute sense of awareness she didn’t possess before. Annie perched on Finnick’s lap, feeding him pretzels like coins in a slot machine; Cato and Clove with their arms wrapped around each other so tight it looks like it should hurt; Johanna and Bristel with their tongues so far down each other’s throats that they’re probably going to leave and do God knows what before their next round arrives. All of them know a sort of intimacy Katniss can’t even begin to fathom. All of them… except her.

And it’s… weird. Like she’s on the outside of a joke that’s been going on for years.

How are they all still friends? How is it all so… natural for them? Granted, it’s not like she’s got any insight to what’s going on in their brains, but it must be awkward on some level, mustn’t it? How can you share so much of yourself with one person, then pretend like it never happened? And then, how can you do it with four or five or maybe even more of the people you hang out with the most? Katniss can’t wrap her mind around any of it.

Only Peeta, sitting beside her, seems to notice her out-of-body experience.

He nudges her ankle with his foot beneath the table and leans in to whisper, “Are you all right, Katniss?”

She shivers at the warmth and scent of him, of cinnamon and dill and all kinds of other delicious things. He’s never smelled bad in all the time she’s known him. “Yeah. Just, uh… weird day.” She tips back her gin and tonic and almost chokes on it.

He nods, thoughtful, and takes another sip of his own drink, the only one he’ll have for the whole night. “That sucks,” he says, and she can tell he means it, too. He smiles, and another shiver races through her. “Wanna talk about it?”

She shakes her head. “It’s nothing. Just the usual.”

“Another drink, then?”

“I think I’m done for the night, but thanks.”

He shrugs and takes another sip. “No problem.”

“Hey… is it true you dated Madge?” She wants to punch herself in the face as soon as the words leave her mouth.

He almost spits out his drink. “What?” He coughs and thumps his chest with his fist. “She told you about that?”

“She just mentioned it. I had no idea.”

“It was… uh, a while ago.” He drags a hand through his curls and surveys her with something almost like worry. “What else did she tell you?”

“Not much. Just that you guys went out a couple of times —”

“— Once,” Peeta cuts in, a tendon in his jaw twitching. “We went out once. Years ago.”

“All right.” She holds up her hands in surrender. “Sorry for mentioning it.”

“No, Katniss —” He breaks off with a sigh and twirls the last of his beer around in the bottle. “Yeah, Madge and I went out. It wasn’t a big deal. We were both dealing with… I don’t know, shitty personal lives, I guess?”

“Madge said it was to forget a girl.”

Jesus fucking Christ, would someone please, please, cut out her tongue?

“I… uh…” He chugs back the rest of his beer in one feel swoop. Awesome, now he doesn’t have to watch her tear at her hair. “I guess it was kind of like that. I think Madge had just stopped seeing that Blight guy? It was… a while ago, that’s for sure.” He looks at her critically. “Why do you ask?”

She lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. “I don’t know. Just, she mentioned it and I was… curious, I guess.”

His lips quirk into a hint of a smile. “Curious about what, Katniss?”

Yeah, her brain taunts her. Curious about what, Katniss?

Even if she knew, she’s got no clue how to go about admitting it to Peeta, of all people.

“I don’t know,” she mumbles at her empty glass. “Nothing, I guess.”

Now, the concern is back full-force. “You sure?”

Not really, but she’s not so sure why or what or how anymore. “Yeah. I’m sure. But I think I’ll take that drink now, if you’re still offering.”

He flags down the nearest server and says, “Yeah. I think I might, too.”

[sendingmyrevenge]

Helping Hand - David Pastrnak

A/N: There aren’t enough Pasta fics on here *sigh*

Warnings: None

Summary: You first met David when you were enrolled at Boston University. As it was David’s first time in the States, you helped him adjust to the city of Boston. Your help only proved to be oh so worthwhile.

Winters in Boston sucked. Horribly. Sure the streets were a winter wonderland with snow cascading the branches and lamp posts, but it was freezing. Your friends were all out doing their own things, leaving you to spend the day by yourself. Since there were no classes today, you decided to explore the streets of Boston and get your mind off of college.

You shoved your hands deeper into your pockets, waiting for the signal to cross the street. The breeze started to pick up from the cars speeding past you, but your beanie held your hair in place. Somehow your feet led you to the Boston Common, the park that held so much history and so much spirit.

The pedestrian signal changed, allowing you to cross the street. The park in front of you was bustling with families and tourists. There were so many activities going on, making it feel like a scene straight out of a movie. The snow crunched under your feet as you walked down the path. You found a vacant bench to rest on and sighed in relief, realizing how sore your legs started to become.

You observed your surroundings. A family was close by building a snowman. The mother, focused on helping her daughter gather stones for the face, jumped in surprise when her husband threw a snowball at her. The daughter erupted in giggles at the sight of her parents getting into a snowball fight. Her laughter made you grin. Oh, how you wish your future would be like that.

Off to the far left, a vendor was selling hot chocolate to anyone who passed by. You looked around some more. Children screamed and laughed with each other. Couples scrolled through the park, enjoying each other’s embrace. You loved seeing people enjoying life. It was the optimist part of you.

Distracted with the liveliness around you, you didn’t realize someone walk up to you.

“Excuse me?” The man said with a thick accent.

You snapped out of your thoughts, looking up in front of you. He was bundled in a thick jacket and a woolen scarf. A winter hat was perched on top of his head, but you could see strands of brunette curly hair poking out. His gloved hands held a slightly crumpled up map of Boston.

“Do you know how I get to TD Garden?” He pointed to his map. He spoke in broken English.

“Yes! It’s a bit of a long walk, but it’s not that bad.” You smiled. You attempted to explain the directions to him, but his look of confusion only deepened.

“I can walk with you, if you’d like.” You offered. The mystery man broke out in a grin, his eyes lighting up.

You didn’t know him at all and your mother taught you better than to talk to go anywhere with a stranger, but he was completely lost. Plus, you had your pepper spray on you if anything were to happen.

“Thank you very much,” He held his arm out for you to shake. “My name is David.”

You shook his hand. “Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

As you two started walking, you asked him some questions to get to know him some more. “What brings you to Boston?”

David grinned sheepishly and scratched the back of his neck. “I come to play hockey, but I walk around and get lost”

You smiled in understanding. “The streets of Boston can be confusing. You don’t play for the Bruins, do you?” You joked to lighten the mood.

David smirked. “Yes. Something like that.” Your eyes widened in surprise.

“That’s so cool!” You tilted your head to look at him. He was a solid 6 feet tall, towering over you by a good 10 inches.

As you continued walking with David, you found out he was from the Czech Republic. He was recently drafted by the Bruins and decided to explore the city he would call home for the next couple of years.

You and David chatted nonstop throughout your walk to the arena. Not one second was a dull moment. You pointed out the streets he would need to know, laughed at the jokes he said in his thick accent, and helped him learn some basic English phrases along the way. David even taught you a few words in Czech which included “hi” and “how are you.”

When you arrived at the TD Garden, you sighed to yourself. You two would be parting ways soon and although you you only knew him for not even half an hour, you enjoyed his company.

“Well, we’re here.” You stopped in front of the entrance and turned to face him. David took off his hat and smoothed out his hair. His tongue was sticking out between his teeth as he did so, a little mannerism you’ve noticed whenever he was trying to think of the English word for something.

“Thank you, Y/N.” He looked down at you and smiled gently. You shrugged it off, saying it was no problem. Before you could bid him farewell and wish him good luck playing with the Bruins, he stopped you.

“Can I have phone number? I want to buy you coffee to thank you.” Your heart fluttered at his gesture.

“Oh, of course!” You beamed at him. You and David exchanged numbers, sending him a text that would mark the beginning of your friendship relationship:

Hey it’s Y/N! Don’t get lost in the TD Garden ;)

Months have passed since you helped David find his way around Boston. Your friendship with David only grew stronger by the minute. Friendship being the keyword. You and your damn feelings wanted more, but you didn’t want to jeopardize anything.

David had an off-day, coming home from a road trip the day before. He insisted on spending his free time with you, begging you to skip class just for a day. You, of course, were hesitant. You may have had classes, but you also wanted David to rest.

However, David’s spam of text messages that consisted of “Please. Please. Please. Please” and “I haven’t seen you in a week!” made you give in. It was only one for one day. Surely, your professor won’t miss you that much.

You texted your classmate you weren’t going to be in class and asked if you could copy her notes later on. After a quick reply from her end, you grabbed your winter attire, seeing as it was still chilly in Massachusetts, and headed out of your dorm.

Your phone rang as you left the campus. David’s name lit up on your screen and you inadvertently smiled.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Turn around.”

You scrunched your eyebrows, but did as he told. You spun around and there stood David. He was leaning against his car, one hand waving and the other holding the phone to his ear. He had a cheesy grin plastered on his face. The hat he wore when you first met him hung loosely on his head.

A giggle escaped your lips. You playfully rolled your eyes and shoved your phone into your pocket. Running over to David, you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face into his chest. With the extra layers on him from his jacket, you felt like you were a hugging a teddy bear. David engulfed you, rubbing his hand on your back. His chin rested on the top of your head, eyes closed in content. You didn’t think anything of it, but David pulled you closer to him, missing your presence.

“I’ve missed you.” You murmured into his chest.

“Me too.”

You were reluctant to let go of him, but the two of you were just friends and you didn’t want David to feel awkward.

As you pulled away, you composed yourself and nudged him lightly. “I thought we agreed to meet at the cafe?”

“Yes, but I want to bring you somewhere.” He opened the door for you and motioned for you to go into the the passenger’s seat. Used to David’s antics by now, you shrugged and let him drive to wherever you two were going.

It didn’t take long for you to notice where he was taking you. He drove past the TD Garden, steering down the cobblestone streets that led to one place - the Boston Common.

Finding an empty spot, David parked the car and turned in his seat so he was facing you.

“Um, why are we here?” You questioned. David turned his gaze from you to the backseat. You looked behind you and two pairs of skates lay neatly on the floor.

“I am teaching you how to skate today.” The Boston Common’s pond froze over, making it the perfect opportunity for David to teach you.

You once told David how you never learned how to skate, due to a tiny fear of falling and breaking your bones. It was a stupid reason, but a reasonable one.

“Can’t we do something else? How about we go back to your place and watch a movie or go against your diet and eat junk food? Or maybe, I don’t know, do something that doesn’t involve me making an embarrassment of myself?” You begged, but David only shook his head. He found it cute how flustered you were getting, but he wanted to teach you, in hopes of inviting you as a plus one to future family skates.

“C’mon. I’ll make sure you won’t fall. I promise.” There was a sincerity in his voice, like he would do anything to make sure you felt safe on the ice. His promise was shown in his eyes, his look contrasting yours. Sighing in defeat, you grudgingly got out of the car. David hurriedly grabbed the skates while you paid the parking meter. Making sure his car was locked, David put his hand on your back, leading you to the pond.

The both of you sat down at a nearby bench, putting on your skates. David helped you tie yours after seeing you struggle. As he was tying, you blurted out, “I swear to God, David. If you let me fall I’m going to make your life a living hell.”

David rolled his eyes at your remark. He knew you didn’t mean it. You were the least threatening person he knew.

“I always keep my promises, Y/N.” He stood up, reaching his arm out so you could hold his hand.

After much hesitation and David basically carrying you, you finally reached the ice. As you felt the slippery surface beneath you, you clung to David’s bicep. All your attention was on making sure you didn’t fall. Nothing else even mattered. David started to glide, but you stood still, anchoring him to the spot.

“Y/N, it’s okay. Loosen up a little.” He pried your arms off his bicep, but still held a tight hold on your hands. He skated in front of you and created some distance.

“Let your feet do all the work and only focus on me.” David started to skate backwards, his arms stretched out so he could still hold you.

David wasn’t wearing any gloves, and you felt every callous rubbing against you. His fingers molded perfectly into yours, squeezing you in encouragement. Your stare left the ice and onto his face. As David slowly glided, you felt the momentum and moved with him.

“You’re doing it!” He praised.

Too focused on his features, you didn’t realize David started to pick up his speed and you lost your balance. You let out a yelp, but David’s grip tightened and he pulled you towards him, steadying the both of you. David wrapped his arms around your torso in a bear hug.

“I got you. I got you.” He reassured.

His voice calmed you down, but your hold on him did not loosen.

“I knew this was a bad idea.”

“I didn’t let you fall though. Did I?” He had a point.

In David’s tight embrace, you could barely move. You opted to tilting your head up to give him a “really?” look, but David was already staring down at you in admiration. You have never seen him like this before yet his eyes blue eyes entranced you. The both of you stood in a comfortable silence, lost in each other’s gaze. 

David didn’t know what overcame him, but he leaned down, attaching his lips to yours. You didn’t hesitate to kiss him back. Of course not, this was what you fantasized about ever since you discovered your feelings for him. Your heart rate sped up once you realized you weren’t dreaming.

His slightly chapped lips moved in sync with yours when he noticed you didn’t pull back. You felt him grin and your arms snaked their way to his neck so you could pull him down closer. The kiss was short-lived. There were no cliche fireworks you heard about in the movies; no flips of the stomach or anything, but it felt right. So, so right.

Many say the world stops in moments like these, like your surroundings just disappear and nothing else matters. To you and David, the statement couldn’t be more correct.

As you two separated, you broke out in a grin.

“Wow.” You breathed.

“Wow.” 

You couldn’t have been more thankful to have come to the park the day David asked for your help, because you never would have met your best friend and the love of your life.

[libraford]

Rose Profiles Part 3! (Here are Part 1 and Part 2) 

As always, tag yourself, your friends, and your OC’s at your own risk. There are many, many different kinds of roses. 

1st photo: 

Explorer (red, left) 

Green Tea (green, right) 

2nd photo: 

Lola (hot pink, top left) 

Free Spirit (pink-orange, top right) 

Shimmer (peach, bottom right) 

High and Magic (red tip orange, bottom left) 

Marzipan (light pink, center) 

3rd photo: 

Carrousel (hot pink, left)

Lighthouse (yellow top)

Purple haze (lavender, right)

Starlight (yellow, bottom.)

4th photo: 

Clockwise from the top. 

Limbo (yellow green, top) 

Saga (medium pink, right) 

Frutetto (pink-green, right) 

Roseberry (magenta, bottom right)

Heart (dark red, bottom left) 

Nectarine (left) 

Deep Purple (top left)

Jade (center)

5th photo: 

Queen Mary (hot pink

6th photo: 

Shocking Versilia (Bright pink, left)

Hummer (yellow, right)

Profiles below!

Explorer disappears off of their social media accounts for months, even years, only to resurface again with a completely different personality, in a different state, and having ‘been through it.’ Won’t share their stories because they just want to be over it and move on, but if you get them alone they will tell you every single trauma. Rumors of their death have been greatly exaggerated, but appreciated. 

Green Tea would like to adopt you and be your grandma. Grows all their own food and over-estimates just how much they can eat and is excited to share the rest. Swears every year that they’re done with zucchinis, but ends up growing them anyway. Can make zucchini bread blindfolded, as a result. 

Lola is a stage presence even when they’re not on stage. Grand entrances. ‘Grandma-ma, its me: Anastaaaaaahsia.’ Best jokes without even trying. Loves the attention, needs to learn how to deal with loneliness. 

Free Spirit doesn’t have to be born in late autumn to be a Sagittarius. Wears sandals everywhere and hates that places require shoes. Would be a nudist if people would stop calling the cops about it. Ignores bad news, plans to live on a compound with 20 or so close friends- presumably who are also down with nudity. 

Shimmer is very pretty but is only just now realizing it. Incredibly strong- can lift most things that other people their size/age cannot, and for awhile thought that this was their only good trait. Doesn’t even work out, just is Like That. Prone to posturing about it. 

High and Magic has read every book on the occult that you can think of and about a billion others. However, it’s not clear on whether they actually absorbed the knowledge of them or read them for the sake of having read them. Owns many robes, but thinks wizard hats are hokey. 

Marzipan has to have someone else accompany them anywhere because they get so nervous at the check-out counter that they forget how to talk or do math. Very sweet, but very shy. 

Carrousel would eat only candy if it were allowed and that is why they are not allowed to go to supermarkets unsupervised. Kind of cranky, but the nap does nothing. Hasn’t bought new shoes in five years because ‘they just need a new insole!’ Sore. 

Lighthouse is an optimist that means it. Party healer. Rants about essential oils, but not in the way you think they do. The person you come to when you want to talk to someone. Will keep your secrets for you, but will also insist you find help. 

Purple Haze is hurt easily- emotionally and physically. They’ve tried to develop a thick skin, but it’s been decades now and it’s just not going to happen. Tries to take on other people’s burdens, gets burnt out easily. Early 2000′s emo music is their guilty pleasure. 

Starlight was obsessed with the X-Files, but mostly because they had a crush on one (or both) of the protagonists. This lead to a life-long dedication to the paranormal (and also shoulder pads). Joined the local ghost hunting chapter, but isn’t convinced that they’re legit. Has seen an actual UFO, swears by it. 

Limbo will read anything by HP Lovecraft and can connect any world disaster to Cthulu’s awakening. Will play more than three tabletop campaigns at one time and manage not to get any of the plotlines confused. Has to explain a lot of things to a lot of people. 

Saga wears haute couture no matter how ugly the dress is. Attracts photographers to them even in the middle of the street.  Loves the camera, camera loves them. Walk, walk, fashion baby. 

Frutetto is in their Sweet Lolita phase and will probably continue to wear it as long as they make cute clothes in their size. Parasols, cherry blossoms, fake eyelashes, actually uses their matching tea sets. 

Roseberry will fucking fight you. Tell them they can’t do something and they will make you eat your words by shoving it down your throat, mother fucker. Often will go out of their way to do something out of spite just because someone said they couldn’t. Forbid them to do something, I fucking dare you. 

Heart accidentally faked their own death and just kind of let things happen from there. Never actually revealed that they were alive, went the extra mile and bought a clever disguise to fool their family and friends for awhile. It... almost worked. Almost. 

Nectarine would happily become a homemaker, spend the day cleaning and tidying, gardening and cooking. Has a million projects they’d love to do if they had the time, but unfortunately they have to work and make money. Waiting to win the lottery so they can just stay at home for the rest of their life. 

Deep Purple joined a girl gang once, but no one believes them when they tell people that, so they just don’t talk about it. Had a wild time in college, doesn’t remember most of it. Keeps a running list of places they’re not allowed back to. 

Jade wants world peace, but oh my god- will they gossip and get in your business. Honestly, the worst at talking about people behind their backs, but if you ask them what they want for Christmas, the answer is always ‘world peace.’ 

Queen Mary has been fighting for so long and the fight goes on forever. All they want to do is rest, but there is so much work to do. Terrible about their own self-care, but will tell other people to stay hydrated. What’s the phrase? “Never set yourself on fire to keep others warm?” Should have listened to that earlier. 

Shocking Versillia has a purse to match every outfit and if they don’t have one that matches they will find one. Same goes with shoes. Thrived in the late 1990′s, now is just trying to stay happy. 

Hummer will chop down a tree just because they feel like it. Impulsive, bad decisions, and a couple broken bones. Learns what they can do by figuring out what they can’t. Knows how to set a splint because they’ve had to do it by themselves; that one time when they went hiking on that unmarked trail and ended up skittering down the side of a cliff? Woops. But hey, that’s one more thing for the list. 

[falloutdialogue]

Diamond City Security Dialogue

One Liners

Yeah. It's true. I got shot in the ass last year. Long story.

You been to Goodneighbor? Friggin' hole. Ghouls and chem heads all over.

A beer and my slippers after this shift. That's all I ask.

Hey, you that trader, up from Quincy? You sell any ointment? I got me this itch...

I hear you been asking questions around town. What, Diamond City's got two private dicks now?

Wanna do something fun? Run the bases. Trust me.

Ahem. Well hello beautiful.

Now what can I do for you, sweetheart?

Broke up with my girl. She kept the cap off the toothpaste. Know who does that? A synth.

Word of advice - never call your mother a synth unless she really is one. Yikes.

Crouching

Get off your knees. You look like a jackass.

What the HELL are you doing?

Whoa, whoa, no public squatting. Go find a bathroom. Jeez.

Intro Scene/Fighting Supermutants

Super Mutants!

Here's some Diamond City firepower you green uglies!

[Player helped fight] Damn. Not afraid of mutants, huh? You're our kind of guy/gal.

[Player helped fight, but didn’t get any kills] Mutants sure are hard to kill, huh? Thanks for the assist.

[Strong is a companion] Hey, uh, appreciate the help and all, but maybe keep your big, green friend out of the city, yeah?

[Strong is a companion] Hey, uh, welcome to our town and all, but maybe leave your big, green friend outside the gate, yeah?

[Player stood by] Not eager to get into a fight with mutants, huh? *sigh* I guess I can't blame ya.

[If there were many casualties] Dammit. Lost a lot of good guys today... When are the mutants gonna stop, huh?

Protecting Diamond City from Misc Enemies

This is our city, you fucking machine!

Suck it, you Protectron wannabe!

Die, you Institute asshole!

Time to beat down another crazy...

Batter up, asshole!

Code Red! CODE RED!

Welcome to Diamond City, motherfucker...

Game over, asshole.

That's what I call a strike out...

Posted Outside the Wall

Can't believe I'm posted outside the Wall. Who the heck did I piss off?

Feral Ghouls like to hide in the dark. Makes night patrol a real fright-fest.

Caught Picking Pockets/Stealing

Damn pickpockets!

I saw that!

Theft! Look alive, boys!

Hey. Klepto. Nice try.

Pretty sure that's not yours, pal/lady...

Great. A thief.

Whoa. Slow down there, sticky fingers.

Seriously, pal? Stealing?

Player is Taking Items of No Value

What? You picking up the trash?

You know that's junk right?

Got an amateur janitor over here...

Ain't everyday someone picks up the garbage for free...

Picking up garbage. You an old-time scavenger?

Hey, you wanna pick up trash, I ain't stoppin' ya...

Conversation with Sheng

Sheng, what have I told you about keeping the lake clean? Don't make me shut down this little stand of yours.

Sheng: Every drop of water comes out of that filter 100% pure. Why's a legitimate business man like myself always gotta be hassled by city regulation, huh? 

It's a health hazard, Sheng.

Sheng: It's a PROFIT hazard, is what I say. I manage the water. And I'll do it without your interference, thank you very much.

Eating Outside the Dugout Inn

Can't believe you eat that food. Only one thing worth buying in the Dugout Inn, and that's the booze.

Resident: Man's gotta eat, what can I say?

A real Diamond City boy eats at the noodle stand.

Factions/Main Quest

[If institute takes over commonwealth] These synths just showed up. They're not doing anything wrong... so... we're not sure what to do.

We're getting a lot of graffiti these days. Pictures of lanterns. Know anything about that?

Ask you somethin'. Crazy question. You didn't see a... flying ship recently. Did you?

You see that big blimp? What's the Brotherhood of Steel? Why are they here?

I was on duty when I seen that airship fall out of the sky. I wonder if anyone survived.

[Liberty Prime] Holy nuts! A giant fricken robot just walked by here like it was nuthin'. Now I seen everything.

You keep looking at me like that, I'm gonna start thinking you're a synth...

The Institute. Pfft. I ain't scared of them. No... really. I swear...

You read that article? In Public Occurrences? Damn synths could be anywhere.

Don't worry. You're safe from the synths here in Diamond City. I hope...

So it's true, then? You're leading the Minutemen? Good for you. Great cause.

I'm too friggin' slow to join the Minutemen.

How come whenever something interesting happens around here, you're right in the center of it?

[Excited, then slightly embarrassed] The legend him/herself! Way to give it to the Institute. You're like my hero or something...I dunno. Thanks.

There he/she is! The man/woman of the hour!

On behalf of all the guards here in Diamond City, I just wanted to say thanks. For saving us. All of us.

In the Newspaper

Hey, you were in the paper, right? 

You're 200 years old? Lookin' pretty good for your age, huh?

Vault Dweller? Huh... you seem pretty normal.

Vault Dweller with a thousand guinea pigs? What kind of twisted experiment was that?

Read that interview you gave. That thing you said at the end? 

About having hope? Good on ya.

About getting revenge? Right on.

About taking one day at a time? I can relate.

Player is a Known Criminal (but is now free to walk around)

Well, look. Diamond City's number one troublemaker. Oh, I got my eye on you. Oh, look here. It's the troublemaker.

Don't think we've forgotten about you. Play nice from now on, hear me?

[Player stole from someone] Hear you don't know what "private property" means. Just keep your hands to yourself.

[Player attacked someone] Ain't you the one who's been roughin' people up? Got my eye on you.

[Player killed someone] You're a freakin' psychopath, you know that?

Holidays

Today's Halloween, but do we get treats? Nooooo. It's all tricks, all day.

Can you believe today's Christmas? Ho ho friggin' ho.

Painting the Wall

Hey, you're the one made the Wall look like a lemonade stand.

Heard you're responsible for that new coat of green on the Wall. Looks nice.

The Wall's looking as green as the day she was built.

You. You're the one turned the Wall into some kind of... blue monster.

Ain't never gonna get used to the Wall looking like... that.

Reactions to Companions

What a mangy mutt.

Filthy animal.

Get out of here, you.

Well hey there, pup.

You keep an eye on that thing. I don't want to hear about anybody getting bit.

Hell of an animal you've got there.

That thing's not a stray, is it?

Nice dog.

Listen, um... Your pal there is kinda... scaring the crap outta me...

You and your mercenary friend keep your guns in your pants. Capiche?

Whoa, whoa. No Ghouls in Diamond City. Get that thing outta here.

Oh, man. You got a robot butler? I want a robot butler...

[Sarcastic] What kind of person pals around with a robot. Oh my God... you're not a synth. Are you?

Your friend looks like trouble. Make sure she's not.

I ain't telling you how to pick your friends, but Piper's kind of a troublemaker.

So what, you're in the Brotherhood of Steel now?

You know, your friend looks kind of familiar. Maybe...

Heard you rescued Valentine. Good work. Most synths scare the hell outta me, but Nicky, he ain't like those Institute psychos.

Hangin' out with Valentine, huh? Good for you. Nicky's good people. Ah, you know what I mean.

Dear God. Your friend. He's not a... you know. One of them super things. Is he?

Your buddy there's pretty intense. Brother needs to lighten up.

Chumming around with a merc, huh? I don't want no trouble on my beat.

Hey, you know the rules. No Ghouls in Diamond City. Get your friend outta here.

I know an ex-Raider when I see one. Make sure your "friend" plays nice inside the Wall, hear me?

[Sarcastic] Hey, ask your knight friend if they got shuffleboard up on that fancy ship.

What's with your shady pal, huh?

Got our eyes on you. Even if you are pallin' around with Nick Valentine.

Your Frankenstein friend there ain't gonna start eating people, is he?

[Sarcastic] Hey, tell your robot we're fresh outta crumpets.

You know, with McDonough out of the picture... We're gonna need a new mayor.

[Sarcastic] You make that robot yourself? You must be wicked smart.

You keep some weird company, pal/lady. Androids, reporters, dogs. Know any gorillas? Heh heh.

If I didn't know better, I could've sworn I saw you hanging out with a Ghoul. Here in Diamond City. But that's impossible. Right?

You're getting pretty chummy with that reporter, huh? Be careful, there. The mayor's got it in for her.

Reactions to Equipment/Armor/Weapons

Ho. Lee. Shit. Now that is some armor.

See you got one of those fancy Vault suits. Those one size fit all?

That a real Vault Suit? Damn.

Is that a Pip-Boy? Give my left arm for one of those.

Geez, pal/lady. I like guns, too. But you think you might be overcompensating there?

Nice piece you got there. Just keep it holstered.

Look, that armor's great, don't get me wrong. But how the hell do you, you know... Pee?

Hey, I ain't sayin' I want to shoot you, 'cause that would be rude. But would you even feel it?

A Swatter's man/gal, huh? Nice.

Nice hat.

Whoa! You look just like that Silver Shroud guy. From the radio.

Now you have the right idea. Power Armor. Only way to travel.

[rwbyremnants]

WARNINGS: Neon/Weiss hints. Also Neptune in this chapter. Bumbleby. VERY harsh argument.

HAPPY BOXING DAY! And seriously we know that the argument was pretty rough but like, damn. Something had to break. Still no Freezerburn; it‘s coming eventually, we promise!

=Chapter 30

Neptune was persistent. That could be one way someone would describe him if they were to see him where he currently stood, outside one of the smaller sushi restaurants in the city. It took him a while to get there since Nashville wasn't his home town, but he'd made sure to schedule his day of album signings so he had time to spare for lunch. And even made sure to wear a hat and sunglasses to hide his identity.

And why? In the hopes of meeting Weiss Schnee once again to talk about the upcoming Beach Fest. At least, that's what he told people. There was really more motive than that, which was more obvious if anyone caught him holding the single rose he'd bought specially. White, of course, to match her whole “purity” theme. Nervously adjusting his jacket again, he anxiously looked down the street to try and catch a glimpse of her.

Unaware that she was approaching from behind.

"Who's this loser?" a voice said from over his shoulder. "Look at him, standing around outside in sunglasses. Almost like he thinks he's some kind of rock star."

The sudden voice made him almost leap out his skin, quickly spinning around to face her. But soon that nervous smile turned into a smug grin as he tilted his head. "And who's this pipsqueak? Gosh, she seems like a know-it-all, huh?"

"Maybe she does know it all." The pipsqueak in question was clad in a light, airy yellow sundress and a straw hat, with yellow purse and shoes to match; something that didn't really suit her usual aesthetic, but didn't look bad on her at all. Her hip was out to one side with her hand perched on it, a vague smirk on her lips. "Hi."

"We meet again, Snow Angel." He smirked right back at her. Although, that smirk didn't take long to turn into a softer smile when he brought out the hand he'd hastily hidden behind him, the one with the white rose. Time to put his plan into action. "I totally found this like, on my way here. And it reminded me of you, so I totally picked it myself. One hundred percent."

"Oh, totally," Weiss laughed, taking it from him. "And where's the pocketknife that perfectly clipped the bottom of it in this diagonal fashion?" Her other hand waved to demonstrate the remarkably clean cut, like a game show hostess revealing a prize.

"Are you crazy?! You can't carry a deadly weapon like that in public! A knife is so much more dangerous than a gun!" But he laughed regardless, handing it over to her eventually, before gesturing a hand toward the main door. "Shall we, my lovely assistant?"

One of her eyebrows raised. "Oh, you are definitely the assistant. I am the queen." However, she did take his arm for her to lead her into the establishment. Some niceties had to be observed.

The place seemed to be an average sushi restaurant. There were lots of stools situated around a long conveyor belt that led around the restaurant itself, along with a few booths for those who didn’t want to serve themselves in that style. Instinct told him to choose the booth since it was secluded; less chance of them being noticed. But Weiss knew the area better than him.

"Alright then, queeny. Where do we sit?"

"Gentleman's choice," she told him casually. But she looked very bemused at the entire situation. Inordinately bemused.

"Oh, I'm gentle, am I?" That was exaggerated with a sly wink and a smirk. Foolishly, however, he'd completely forgotten that would be invisible behind the glasses. But in the end, that instinct took over. "Let's go for a booth. Never been to a sushi place before, but it'll be less obvious, right?"

Weiss's steps hesitated as she approached the booth in the corner, and a woman nearly ran into her from thinking the way would be clear once Weiss had moved along. "You've… never had sushi before? Are you sure this is what you want? I mean, we could find somewhere else…"

"No! No no, god, no!" he quickly responded, sitting down on one side as he slid into the booth, holding his hand out and waving to dismiss those concerns. "Hell no, I mean, no I've never had it before but, that doesn't mean I don't wanna try! Y'know me, I love new experiences."

"Oh, yes," she laughed sarcastically as she dropped into the booth. "In our forty years of friendship, I've come to know that above all else, Neptune Vasilias is adventurous."

"Hey cut that out, I don't wanna feel old yet." But regardless, Neptune seemed to be enjoying the banter. First thing was first, he took one of the nearby menus, looking through the various categories and descriptions. If anything, it served as a needed distraction. Though he was normally so confident, he actually hadn't a clue where to start with Weiss.

"So… uh, I saw you on SNL." It was a better place than any. "I watched it. Was pretty awesome, you were really funny. That gag with you licking the donut! Man, you killed me."

"Glad you caught that," Weiss said, glancing down the menu. A knowing look swept over her whille watching his ill-concealed confusion at the menu, but she decided to keep to herself about that for now. "Always nice to have a fan - especially when it's a fan I'm a fan of."

That made his smile grow. So far, so good; he seemed to be doing rather well. "Why, I'm flattered. I'll have to let you know if I'm live on TV at some point, too – oh, I’ll be on Lisa Lavender like you were a few weeks back."

Nodding, she flipped the menu over, arched her eyebrows at some of the prices and options, and made a few mental notes. Then she pulled the glass of complimentary water closer.

"Did you see who the other guest was on that episode? Our fellow Beach Fest-er."

Tilting his head at first, it seemed to have slipped his memory. That was until he gave a small nod as he remembered. "Oh, yeah, Little Miss Laser Raver. Was she really that nuts backstage?"

"Oh, she's definitely… pretty intense," Weiss told him with a small, secret smile. Then she cleared her throat. "But not such a bad person, really. Just hyper and flirty."

"You're telling me! I swear I heard some rumor she was dating two guys from 'BRNZ' at the same time. Then a girl or something? I mean, make up your mind," he attempted to joke. Obviously Weiss had more reliable knowledge than his media speculation.

"Hey, perhaps she's just weighing her options.” Both of Weiss's arms folded over her chest. “She's pretty publicly open about how she doesn't mind flirting with anyone and everyone, so if some guy dated her expecting for her to be a one-man girl or something, they're the stupid one."

His smile started to vanish as he brought the menu back up – as if it were a shield. Now he felt like he’d really stepped in it, without meaning to, since she had corrected him so fast. Clearing his throat after a while, he seemed to want to change the subject.

"S-So… how's the new album coming?"

"Great. I mean, we're in the same business, so you have to know. But now you have me curious: what would you say if I dated two guys at the same time, and then a girl, and was now coming out to eat with you? Just for fun."

There was no pause between the answering of his question and her follow-up to the previous subject. Swallowing, Neptune really was caught off guard. He didn't expect to have something he thought was so trivial come back to bite him. Not this soon, at least. In the end, he lowered the menu.

"Okay, I get it, I was a jerk for assuming stuff. And she can date whoever she wants, obviously."

"Good. You can be taught; I like that quality in those with whom I associate myself." After looking at the menu for a moment, she glanced up at his put-out expression and sighed, dropping her frosty tone. "Most of Neon's flirting is an act the studio asks her to play up for the cameras. Not even kidding, she's a really sweet girl once you get to know her."

Tilting his head, he looked back at her, the smile seeming to crawl back into his face again. "Huh… I've seen some weird acts for the cameras, but that's a new one! But… actually it makes sense, her career's practically built on it. We have to sell the product, right?"

Taking a drink of water, she smiled and set the glass down. "Sorry I had to cut you off at the knees there. Just… when will the slut-shaming end, you know?"

"Well… Alright, that's a fair point. You taught me the error of my ways." Seemed Neptune could actually take a lesson in his stride rather than stress or argue against it. Once he'd finally decided on a meal choice, he waited for a waiter to take their order. But in that time, he thought it appropriate to as, "What about you? Are you dating two guys and a girl?"

"Maybe," she hedged, eyes narrowed slightly. "But I can't honestly tell what your reaction would be if that were true." She inhaled and exhaled deeply. "Are you going to get up and walk away from this table if I told you I've kissed a girl? Like, just don’t want to talk to me if you might not ‘get anywhere’? Honest question."

"Hey, whoa, didn’t know I was going to be on trial here," he chuckled. When there was no answer, he held his hands together instead, rolling his thumbs around one another idly. "I'd more be wondering if you're just quoting Katy Perry, but, nah. I'm not that stuck in the past."

Weiss dipped her index fingertip into her water, swirling the ice cubes around. Focusing her eyes on that as she asked, "What if I told you 'the past' was… a few days ago?"

That definitely made Neptune raise an eyebrow. Even he wasn't that oblivious. It all seemed far too specific for her to be talking in just hypotheticals. In fact …

"Are you trying to tell me you're bi, or something?"

"Don’t forget,” she began cautiously, “I never said this was an official date, just that I wanted to get dinner with you. Just dinner! And, um… maybe I took advantage of that social construct and didn't let you know that I'm probably not interested in anything beyond friendship with you…" Her voice got quieter, more introspective. "Maybe I just wanted to see how I felt when I got here. Hoping I would feel something for… for a guy. That's probably not very nice of me. Sorry."

"Uh-huh… so, gay then?" He tilted his head. But never once did he seem offended, nor move to walk away from the table. He was mostly contemplative. The only move he did make was to brush his hair off his face. "Well, I guess that's kind of a relief, then. Least I can stop worrying about why my flirting game has been so weak when it comes to you.”

"You were worried about that?" she asked with a cautious smile. "I mean, to be blunt, you did lay it on pretty heavy the last time we saw each other."

"Ugh, I know." His hand remained in his hair for a moment longer when he looked away in embarrassment. Seemed even the cool Neptune Vasilias was human sometimes. "Truth is, I haven’t really had to make the advances; before I got famous, I neer went on any dates, and afterward, girls thew themselves at me so hard I didn’t have to do the work myself. Which like, first world problem, am I right?”

“A little bit,” she chuckled. “And that’s why you were being such a douchebag?”

“Wow, ouch. But yeah, Sun more or less set me straight on that one, gave me a little guy-to-guy talk about how to pick up girls and told me, 'you don't'. Then I thought about it and realized what he meant, and figured I blew it." Then he looked back to her at last, lowering the shades a fraction. "But, I guess knowing we're still pals at least ain't so bad."

"You and Sun, or you and I?"

They both laughed, and she looked up to see the waitress arrive again. They proceeded to order their sushi, Weiss picking her nigiri like a pro and Neptune ending up asking for a California Roll, since he'd actually heard of that one before. She graciously offered to let him try one or two off her own plate by way of compromise.

"So yeah, I'm… I'd say 'lesbian' is probably the most accurate label, even though it's not one I chose myself," she confessed in a very quiet tone once they were alone again. Her face and neck were flushed, and her breath shallow and quick with fear. "Just kind of happened this way. And I'm sorry if that comes as a bit of a shock… wow. I was not expecting to come out to you or anyone at all today."

"Hey, that's cool! I don't mind at all." Neptune had been smiling all the way through, genuinely listening to what she had to say and taking it in. As much as a date would have had him making flirtatious advances at every chance, this was far laxer . He was acting himself, rather than what folk saw in the camera. "Like, sure it comes as a little bit of a shock, I guess? Because I'm so used to you singing about boys, and basically how the media makes things out; but I think it's pretty rad, actually."

Then he leant in toward the table, asking quietly. "So, this girl you kissed, huh?"

He was challenging slightly; in a playful way, more than a dirty or annoying way. She decided to rise to it, and leaned in. "This girl whose top I took off, huh?"

"Ooo la laaa! Did not expect that from the Weiss." He smirked a lot more playfully, tilting his head to one side again. "Sounded like you had fun, anyways."

"Yeah… yeah, that's the thing." Her smile slipped slightly. "I did have fun, but… okay, can I ask you about like, personal stuff? It's okay if you don't wanna get 'too real', like I'll totally understand; this was supposed to be a casual thing."

Leaning back again on his seat to relax fully, the smirk faded again. No more games; just a genuine chat with a friend over lunch. "Go ahead. I'm all ears."

"How… God, what am I asking you this for?" But she persisted anyway when he didn't stop her. "How long is long enough to wait after a breakup before you, like… date somebody new?"

That took him back slightly, making him wince while he thought about the question. "Well, if you kissed the girl a few days ago but are looking for someone new now, I'd say you were a bit of a player." Although, he then turned slightly more serious. "But I have a feeling this is a different girl, right?"

Weiss nodded, swallowing. "It's… been a month or so. And when you get down to it, we didn't date very long, but she… was my first serious relationship. I don't know, I feel ready, and then I don't, and the last thing I want is to lead this new girl on if I'm… still a mess."

"Breakups are always a bitch, right? Whether because the other person is a bitch, or because you had to be a bitch for yourself. Either way… I don’t think there's any real time limit." But before she could interrupt, he added, "Within reason, I mean. I'm not saying get with someone else just because you can, but… you shouldn't feel guilty about moving on, y'know?"

Weiss pulled the chopsticks toward herself, tore open the packet, divided them with a brutal snap! and began to slide each stick over the other, watching them carefully as she spoke. "I know I shouldn't. She moved on from me. Dumped me. She's gone, she's fine, she's… off doing her own thing. I should have no guilt at all about going out and living my life again."

Doing the same for himself, he resisted snapping the sticks apart just yet, simply holding them together a moment while Weiss seemed to release that pent-up anger on the pair of sticks she held. "Damn, that's rough… but, her loss, right? Who'd be dumb enough to dump The Weiss? That's like swapping a prime cut of steak for a one-dollar cheeseburger from McDonald's." Though straight away, he corrected himself. "Not that you're a slab of meat, I mean! It's purely a metaphor."

At that, she looked up with a shrewd little smirk. "You caught yourself that time. Good boy, Neptune; you get a biscuit." But her hand waved the whole issue aside in favour of the bigger topic. "She had every right. I mean, it's a relationship, not slavery; I didn't own her, and I didn't want to. Just… wish I knew why she left."

Of course, the bitterness crept back in as she spoke the last part, but she tried not to show it outwardly, and did not elaborate. Simply kept smoothing her chopsticks to get rid of imaginary splinters.

"And she never even gave a reason? Oh, this gets better and better…" He rolled his eyes. Of course, he was frustrated at who did this to his friend, not at his friend herself. Snapping his own sticks a lot more gently, he began to rub them together as well. "If she's not even willing to tell you what you did wrong, then what reason do you have to feel guilty about moving on? Why give a rat ’ s ass about her happiness if she clearly doesn't about yours?"

"Yeah… yeah, you're right!" Nodding to herself, her face turned distinctly more determined as she sharpened faster, the already high-pitched sound climbing higher and louder. "I've given her enough time to come around, to text me, to do something other than ignore me completely! Plenty of time! Well, no more waiting for no good reason! I’m moving on! Weiss Schnee is gonna go over there and make that glowstick-waving hottie scream that name out loud!"

That seemed to get the attention of a few of the customers, and even one or two of the waiters. Enough attention was drawn to them to make Neptune pull nervously at his collar, and laugh to himself. Before anyone could raise any question, he called out, "We're playing Truth or Dare, sorry!"

But as soon as they turned away, he cleared his throat, waiting for the area to calm down before he spoke again. "Fucking do it, girl. Go out there, relax, fuck around for a while. Do what you wanna do to be happy; that's the biggest 'fuck you' you can give an ex, right?"

"It is, and… and I will!" There was another snap! and Weiss looked down to see she had broken one of the chopsticks. "Oh… crap, I didn't mean to do that…"

There was just a snort from Neptune as he tried to contain his laughter, the cheesy grin doing very little to suppress it and keep it down however. But he handed his pair over the table to her, and stood. "Here, have mine. I'll go get some more."

"Thank you," she sighed wearily.

By the time Neptune returned from replacing her broken sticks, their sushi had arrived at last. They set to work, both trying one or two of their own, Neptune doing his best with the chopsticks despite being unfamiliar. Then Weiss picked up yet another piece.

"Want to try this one? It's only tomago. " When he didn't respond, she translated, "Egg. It's egg"

"All I could think of was that Big Hero Six chick," he commented once he'd swallowed some of his food, looking toward the piece in the sticks. Weiss’s expression showed no recognition at all. Shrugging his shoulders, he leant further forward, expecting her to put it in his mouth for him. "What the hell. We all gotta have new experiences, right?"

And she did. Despite the fact that it was a bit more "intimate" of an activity than friends normally would enjoy, she had offered, and didn't really think it mattered enough to plop it on his plate and make him pick it up himself with his mediocre skills.

"What do you think?" she asked once sitting back.

Taking a little longer than normal to chew his food, he seemed to look upward for a moment, as though he was really thinking about the taste and nothing else. After a while longer, he swallowed. "Not bad," he concluded before sitting back. "Rather have a whole omelette with cheese, though."

Laughing, Weiss responded, "That's fair," as she went back to her own plate. But her mind was primarily on something else - or some one else. She raised her small cup of green tea and cleared her throat. "So… to new experiences, right?"

Though he had only just managed to pick up another piece from his own plate, it was promptly dropped as soon as Weiss caught his attention again. Not that he was truly annoyed. He simply put the sticks back down again and picked up his own cup, tapping it lightly against hers.

"You bet'cha. To new experiences, and ‘ fuck you ’ to the past."

"Kanpai!" When he merely raised an eyebrow, she giggled and said, "That's 'cheers.' I have a lot to teach you!"

After a long, tedious day at work, the last thing Blake Belladonna wanted to see when she walked into her apartment was Yang sprawled across her couch, half-drunk and dozing. Especially not when she was supposed to be heading into work at that time. She pushed the door shut, not too quietly, and the girl barely stirred.

"Ugh… really?" Walking over to the blonde, she reached over and grabbed her legs, swinging them off the couch. "Wake up, you dumbass!"

There was a very quiet groan when her legs were pulled to one side, twisting her position to one that was half sliding off the sofa. Only then did she finally start to open her eyes. One after the other, blinking them out of sync. She was drunk. Again. If that wasn't obvious by the several empty cans scattered by her.

"You're supposed to be halfway to work right now. What is this?" Blake picked up a can and held it up. "Why are you still laying around?"

When her eyes were open — well, barely open, at least — she attempted to focus on what Blake was showing her. But it wasn't coming to much use. Anyone looking at her now would come to the same conclusion; Yang Xiao Long was a complete and utter mess.

"That…" She managed to slur on that word alone, head swaying as though it weighed a tonne. "Is a can…"

"Really? That's the best you have?" No immediate reaction. All the stress of her day, coupled with the stress of dealing with Yang turning into this shell of herself, boiled to the surface. She didn't snap; Blake never really snapped. But she did decide there was nothing to be gained by holding back.

"Get up, right now. Get in the shower. I'll put on some coffee while you're in there, and drive you into work. But you have to get moving."

Yang still didn't respond straight away. Only continued to blink out of sync as she looked around. She didn't have the strength to argue, nor any real words to respond with. She wasn't even thinking about work, or how people would react. Just about making herself ridiculously numb. That was the only thing she could do right. Finally nodding, she managed to slip her arms behind her, only just managing to use them to push herself up on her feet. But when she stood upright, her balance was completely off. She couldn't even stand still for a long period of time without stumbling.

"Nope!" Blake grunted, just managing to feint to the side and catch her before she went down. "No, no, you're going upstairs and into the shower, come on."

With that, she began to drag her toward the stairs. There was another strained groan that could easily be compared to a toddler having a tantrum. But at least when she was actually at the stairs, there was no excuse. She grabbed the railing to pull herself up and support herself, not needing Blake's help for the rest of it. At least a shower would probably snap her out of the initial daze.

While she trudged upstairs, Blake went about getting the coffee on, picking up the beer cans from the living room. Kicking off her sensible black flats and going upstairs after Yang; the nouveau-lush probably hadn ’ t even laid her clothes out before she hit the bathroom. It would be up to her to take care of that.

Walking into the spare bedroom was like walking into the remnants of a bombed city. Beer cans, a tray full of weed ash, clothes all over the floor … it wasn ’ t as bad as it could have been, but Blake still didn ’ t want her home looking like that. She quickly nipped things into the trash that belonged there, got the dirty clothes into a laundry basket. Straightened the bedclothes. Then she went into the closet to find some suitable work garb …

And saw the garment bag.

Amber eyes darted toward the doorway. She had been curious, why out of all the things Yang no longer seemed to care about, this whatever-it-was had the luxury of being perfectly preserved inside the slick plastic covering. Why had it meant so much to Yang? Why was it being hidden away like this?

Curiosity caught the cat up, and she had to find out. Suppressing her guilt with the excuse of “it’ s my apartment and she ’ s staying here ” , she reached out and drew the zipper down – and beheld a beautiful, traditional silk dress, in such gorgeous shades! White with purples and lilacs, and such long sleeves, furling pleats … the picture of femininity. The fact that Yang, of all people, should own something like that, boggled her mind.

Then another thought came to Blake, one she couldn ’ t shake despite knowing she should, needed to resist. What would it look like on her?

Not even ten meters away in the shower, the unsuspecting blonde was stood a little more stable as the water flowed through her hair and over her body. It was rather cold, but she seemed too numb to notice. But it did have an unintended side effect. It was snapping Yang out of her happier daze again.

And bringing back that empty shell which Blake was so used to. She shouldn't have to be, but it was just who Yang had become now. Cold, uncaring, blank. Like the very soul had gone from her. It wasn't getting better, even after she was apparently seeking help and going to counselling. Slowly blinking as she looked down at herself again, she could practically feel the sadness creeping in again. That wasn't going to vanish today; great.

After a full ten minutes in the shower, and not even bothering with conditioner, Yang had turned the water off and started to get out. Blake might have meant well, but Yang certainly didn't feel up to what was ahead. An evening of serving obnoxious couples and families, most of which treated her like filth for one reason or another. Then even getting yelled at in the kitchen for one reason or another. Probably being late again. Finally resigning and wrapping a towel around her body, she exited. Of course, she left the old pajamas on the ground for Blake to pick up. She just didn't care enough right then to get them herself; she could later, if Blake didn’t do it.

But as soon as she got back to her room, she was in for a shock. Eyes actually widening for once, she yelled loudly, louder than she had for weeks.

"What the fuck are you doing?!"

Whipping around to face the other way, Blake brought her hands up to press against her chest, nylon-covered toes scrunching up in vague embarrassment. A cautious smile hitched into her face as she spun in the hanfu , letting it spin out around her shins.

“ Sorry for being so impulsive, but … I mean, I found this, and I wondered if I ’ d look any good in it. What do you think? ”

Yang was speechless. But speechless in the worst possible way. She could feel her stomach churning, head spinning as though she was about to throw up. Whether that was because of the alcohol or not was up in the air right now. There was only one thing clear to her: she couldn't deal with it. Her hands curled into tight fists, she could almost feel her knuckles straining from holding them too hard. Blake wanted her to feel something for weeks, but now that was coming back to bite her. All Yang felt was pure rage.

"Take, that, off. Now ."

The smile vanished. It was true, as numb as Yang had been over the past few weeks, a few breakdowns notwithstanding, a display of anger was very sudden and very shocking to her. Dropping her voice to a whisper, she said, “ Yang, I- listen, I ’ m sorry, I didn ’ t mean to- ”

"Take it off!" she yelled even louder, exaggerating her words this time by stomping her foot. It was as though she was about to charge, what on earth had come over her?!

"Yang!" Blake burst out, stricken, face turning completely pale. She'd never seen Yang this angry with her before, and had no idea where it was coming from. And the stamp might not have been a real display of violence, but it was too close to one for her to feel safe. She held up her hands in front of her. "Alright! I'm… I'm taking it off, give me time to make sure I don't mess it up…"

While Blake did just that she paced back and forth, hands taking their place back into the blonde hair again. After a while, Blake had noticed it had become a habit when Yang was severely stressed out. But for something as simple as clothing to trigger it? There must be something more, some meaning to it. But while she tugged it and clenched her teeth, it would be very difficult to get that answer.

Even more so when Blake was about to lay it on the bed, and Yang moved herself forward, instead releasing her hair so she could snatch it from Blake's hands, hard. There were already tears welling up in her eyes when she yelled, "It's not yours! You're not allowed to touch this!"

"No, I get it now," Blake told her in a thunderstruck voice, backing off completely so she could put it back into the garment bag herself, if she so chose. "Y-you did tell me it was traditional – I mean, how was I supposed to know, though? I only saw it once when you got here, and you never told me you didn’t want it ever touched!"

Yang didn't even answer at first. She was too busy focusing on putting it away again as neatly as she possibly could. Since she snatched it, there were now creases that wouldn't come out by brushing her hand over the material. It wasn't anything major, an iron would easily solve the problem. But for Yang, it was enough to set off more of a reaction. Enough to make the lingering tears fall as she stared down at it in complete disdain.

"It's ruined… it's fucking ruined!" She only thanked God Blake couldn't see her face, especially when she pounded her fist against the mattress. Such a small thing was creating all this. "That was all I had left! All I fucking had!"

After a few seconds, Blake found her voice again. “Yang… I’ m sorry. That wasn ’ t- I honestly didn ’ t mean to hurt you, okay? I ’ ll pay to have it fixed, I ’ ll do whatever is needed, I promi- ”

"WHY?!" Yang yelled at the top of her voice, quickly spinning herself around to face Blake again. That question was coming up a lot recently between the both of them. Particularly for Yang's now terrified best friend. That was, if they were friends anymore. From how things were going, it seemed like there was nothing of the blonde she once knew left.

"I bought it for her, I kept it perfect for her! It reminds me of her, and it's ruined!" she screamed, tears freely flowing down her face. "Why can't I keep one, single, FUCKING PIECE OF HAPPINESS?!"

Blake's gaze dropped to the floor, her own eyes brimming with tears. The sheer volume, the implications… Yang's rage. She didn’t do well with open displays of anger or violence. Her system was shutting down, she couldn't process anything other than that she had really messed up this time and she was going to be feeling the pain of it for a while.

"I'll let you get dressed. I'm sorry, I… I'm sorry." Then she turned and stepped into the hallway, finding her way to her bedroom door, leaning against the doorjamb and trying not to break down or have a panic attack.

But Yang didn't get dressed. She merely brought the robe back out from the garment bag again, running a hand over one of the creases where she'd grabbed it. Rational thought was returning, but it'd returned too late – and only to give her a firm reminder that she was the one that snatched it. She did the damage, she ruined it. No one else. Just like everything else that had gone wrong. It was her fault.

And with that, she pulled it in toward herself, falling to her knees as she curled into a ball of her own, pressing it tightly against her as she cried again. Loudly sobbing, even straining her voice as she tried to breathe past the lump forming in her throat, hugging the material like it really was all she had left in the world.

"Why?" she repeated again, unaware that her friend was still in earshot. "Why am I still here?"

But hers were not the only tears in the apartment. The others were more silent, more private. Blake looked down at her body, at where the dress had touched her, and hated it. Yet another moment that proved to her that no matter how much Yang might not mind touching her, she would never quite be worth the same to her as Weiss Schnee. Not in the same way.

Proven yet more fully by the fact that Yang did not want to be there with her. Wished she were anywhere else. No matter how hard she tried to help, how kind she was, stern, forgiving, encouraging… she fell short. And this one mistake was enough to get Yang screaming at her like she was her worst enemy.

She wasn't quite sure where it came from, but she felt her emotions close off. She could cry later. Would; definitely would, it was inevitable. Turning back to the bedroom, she walked to the doorway and cleared her throat.

The sobs were brought to a stop when she heard. Sniffing deeply as she managed to turn and look toward Blake, she saw that stern expression again. A cold one, one she saw when Blake was making her stop drinking, or stop smoking more. She froze up, clueless as to what she was in for.

"You… can scream at me again when you get off your shift," she told her bluntly. "Right now you have to get dressed. NO," she cut her off immediately. "You're going to work. Period."

But the blonde only felt herself clutching the hanfu closer to her, and felt the tears returning to her eyes yet again. She tried to will herself to get up, well and truly. But no matter how loudly her brain was screaming at her to move …

"I can't."

Blake's voice didn't get louder. It got quieter. Even though it had been years since they had an argument like this, surely Yang couldn't forget that her voice worked the opposite way from other people; that was when she was really serious.

"Yang, you have to do something. If you don't make it to work today… then I'm sure as hell not paying for you to get drunk and high anymore. Support your own habits, or don't. That's all there is to it."

The gaze only fell to the ground instead. She didn't move, didn't even put up an argument anymore. All of that energy that had seemed to return, even if it was just to scream and then to cry; now it was gone. It would seem to Blake that Yang made her choice. Crying on the ground it was.

"Fine." Taking a deep breath, she let it out as slowly and smoothly as she could, though it did nothing to make her feel better. "I'm going over to Sun's. And I'm taking all the hash and beer and leaving it over there for now. You know where to reach me, my cell is charged. Just… do whatever you feel like doing, I guess."

There was so much Yang wanted to say to that. It shocked her, a lot more than she anticipated it would. She wanted to apologise for her behavior, even open up, explain possibly, let her in on the dark path that was becoming more and more tempting to walk down. But in the end, she did none of that. She simply appeared just as numb as she always was, even if she wasn’t on the inside.

"Whatever."

Blake's mouth opened. She made a wide gesture, opened it again, pressed a hand to her mouth. Turned to leave, was all the way to the top of the staircase before she stopped, turned back to her room, and fetched her weed stash. Might as well follow through.

On her way back, she paused just out of sight of the door frame, still just able to see a sliver of the room from where she stood. In a hollow voice, she said, "You know… I don't know what I'm doing wrong and what I'm doing right anymore. You're confusing the hell out of me. But at least I'm trying." Then she walked down the stairs.

There was nothing else. No further comments, no further sounds of Yang attempting to at least get up or move. Just painful silence. And even when she heard Blake walk down into the kitchen, there was still nothing. She was following through with the plan, leaving Yang with nothing but herself to rely on.

Even if she had some money to spare to get back what Blake had taken, it didn't matter. Not when she lacked the basic motivation to get out of bed some days. How on earth was she going to get out of this one now? She'd officially burnt the only bridge she had left toward some kind of free lifestyle. She'd pushed away a friend that tried to help her however she could, in every possible way. The smell of the freshly brewed coffee was a big reminder of that.

When she finally heard the front door close, it was like the final thud of the jail cell door. She realized deep down in her gut now: she was trapped. And she had built the trap herself.

[denimwrites-archive]

Independence and Love

Prompt: Request - “For the 30 Days of Domestic Fluff maybe “20. A heated argument” with Albert”

Fandom: Newsies

Pairing: Albert X Reader

Summary: You start selling papers in Manhattan and Jack pairs you up with Albert as your selling partner. You become friends but soon you feel like Albert is a bit too protective of you, which leads to some complications.

Word Count: 2,626

Warnings: Swearing, slight violence, angst? (is that a warning?)

A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS REQUEST!!! I hope you like it! I’ve never written for Albert before, but I hope I did him justice cause he’s such a good character. I also hope that I did okay with the accents? I tried, but if anyone has any tips, please let me know!

~~~

You had tried desperately to find a job anywhere in the city, but it seemed that no one was hiring. Or at least they weren’t hiring anybody off of the street. You took a deep breath and made the decision that would forever change your life: you were going to start selling papers. You had seen the newsies on the streets, and although it never seemed like a bad rap, you were nervous about dealing with so many people.

As you made your way to the paper pick up you saw a horde of boys and a few girls waiting in line. You stepped up just to have someone point you out immediately. You could see the word spread up to the front of the line, and soon enough there was somebody standing in front of you, seeming to size you up.

His eyes roamed over you, nodded slightly, then called over his shoulder, “Albert, get over here and meet your new selling partner!” You saw movement in the group and then a new face appeared. He wore a hat, and apparently had no sleeves to speak of. You took him in and he did the same of you.

You stuck out a hand, “(Y/N).”

He shook it with a strong grip, “Albert.” After releasing your hand and getting into line next to you, you both watched the boy who got Albert to come over nod again and leave. You raised an eyebrow as he left, unsure why he had decided to single you out. “That’s Jack,” Albert explained, “he looks after us.” You nod and start to look around, unsure how to talk to this boy who is now your selling partner.

The good news was that Albert was pretty good at conversation, and he knew his stuff when it came to selling. As you waited for the gates to open he explained the plan of attack for today’s selling and how to get the most sympathy from people. You listened diligently and asked questions when needed.

By the time you two had made your way to the front of the line you were confident that today was going to go better than previously planned. You bought your papers and headed out into the city to Albert’s usual spot. He kept you close for the first half of the day so you could see how he handled customers and the way he announced some bigger headlines than were actually printed.

You were able to sell quite a few of your papers during the morning rush, even with Albert only a few yards away from you. By the time you took your lunch break you were definitely feeling ready to finish out the day and come back to start over tomorrow. The rest of the day went by without a hitch, and both you and Albert ran out of papers to sell right around dinner. You gave Albert a bit of your cut as thanks for helping you today, and ensured that he accepted it despite his adamant protests, your stubbornness barely winning.

As you were about to split up and head back home, Albert stopped you. “You have a roof over your head?” You remained quiet, until he threw his arm around your shoulder and steered you towards the lodging house, explaining how a lot of newsies live there and that he knew there was an open bed you could use. At first you tried to say you would be fine on your own, but the sound of an actual bed won out.

When you entered the lodging house you were met with quite a few people who were in line today at the gate. They all seemed to know Albert, and he introduced you to everyone and once he ran into Jack, the boy from this morning, he asked about the open bed, head motioning in your direction.

You followed Jack to the bunk closest to the window. He pointed at it and you couldn’t help the smile that made its way to your face. Albert handed you a blanket and you accepted it gratefully. You set it on the bed, and talked with Albert and a few of the other newsies some more before yawning and turning in for the night, your feet sore from moving around all day.

The morning came sooner than you wanted it to, but waking to Albert’s face made it slightly better. And that was how your routine was born. You continued to stay at the lodging house, and became acquainted with pretty much every newsie in Manhattan, and even some from Brooklyn when you went with Race and Albert to run an errand. Albert had been totally against it, but Jack said you could go, and so you did.

After that trip to Brooklyn you had been steadily noticing how protective Albert was becoming of you. It didn’t start off bad, but it seemed that every time someone new flirted with you and you flirted back just to sell a paper, he would move just that much closer to you. And he wouldn’t let you go out on your own at night anymore, claiming that he didn’t want you to get soaked. Soon enough it was starting to get annoying, and you had to slip out early in the morning just to get some peace from it.

As you head down to the gate before the bell had rung, you see Jack and Crutchie up in their “penthouse” and decide to climb up. When you finally make it to the top, you see them both sitting, watching the sun come up. You wordlessly join them, just taking in the beauty of the little bit of nature in the city. When the bell finally rings you help Crutchie down the ladder and then wait at the gate like every other morning, except Albert still isn’t there.

Shrugging it off, you get your papers and head to your normal spot. As the morning turns into afternoon you start to wander slightly from your position. Soon enough night has rolled around and you grab half a loaf of bread to eat for dinner before making your way back to the lodging house. You split off some pieces to share with the newsies you pass on the way to your bed, but freeze when you see Albert sitting on your bunk.

You rush over to him, happy about a good selling day and ready to share some dinner with him. But before you could even reach him, he was on his feet and in your face. “Where the fuck were you t’day? I was worried sick lookin’ for you. When you weren’t in your bunk and no one seen you this mornin’ I didn’ know what to think.”

You took a step back, giving him a look, “I was out sellin’ with everybody else. I just got up earlier than usual, what’s wrong with that?”

“Ya should’ve waited for me. I was lookin’ all over for you.”

“Well maybe if someone wasn’t always breathing down my neck, I wouldn’t have had to go out and get some fresh air.” His face contorted at your words, obviously not happy with your answer.

“‘Fresh air’? What the hell are you talkin’ about? We work outside for god’s sakes!” You can tell that Albert is starting to get slightly worked up, but you can’t help but roll your eyes at his words.

“I’m just tired of you treating me like some little kid. I’m not the same person who started selling with you months ago. I know this city like the back of my hand, and yet you still seem to think you need to be with me every second making sure I know what I’m doing. I survived on the streets before, y’know, I can take care of myself!” Your voice slowly raised in volume by the end of your tirade.

“Well maybe I’m jus’ trying to look out for you!” He returned, volume matching yours.

“Well I don’t need you to!” You returned quickly. Albert looks surprised at your words, and you kind of are as well, but they’ve been said.

“I’s just trying to keep you safe. So sorry if I stepped on your toes, won’t happen again,” he mutters quietly, before brushing past you and out of the room. The other newsies are frozen, looking between you and the doorway. You set your jaw and shake your head, knowing that he was just being stubborn. You angrily chew your bread, but give the rest to the other newsies when you realize you’re no longer hungry.

Sleep that night is fitful, and when you get up in the morning, no one has seen Albert. You decide to hold your ground. You know that Albert’s a big boy and can take care of himself, he just needed to see that you could do the same. Sure you liked having him around, especially with the butterflies he usually brings with him, but you couldn’t stand that he thought he couldn’t leave you alone without something happening.

I survived on the street without him before, so what’s the big deal? you contemplated, waiting in line for papers once again. You were surprised though, when Race walked up and stood next to you in line. You gave him a wary look as he chewed on his cigar, knowing that something was up. He was usually at the front of the line joking around with Jack or Specs.

You could tell that he wanted to say something by the way he kept fidgeting, but he stayed quiet as you waited for the headline to be announced. Then he suddenly broke the silence, “Albert is just really protective of you. It’s in his nature or whateva. Don’ take it too seriously.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Just cause he’s protective doesn’t mean he can stop me from doin’ stuff. I’s got my own life.”

“He knows that. He jus’ don’t want to admit it. He’s invested in you an’ junk.” His eyes widen at his last sentence, knowing that he said too much, and he makes his way through the crowd before you can ask what the hell he means.

Your mind races as you make your way to the front of the line. What the hell did Race mean that Albert was ‘invested’ in you? Where the hell was Albert? Since he missed yesterday, you were pretty sure he would be here today, but as you asked around, no one had seen him. Fine, if he wants to go out on his own, that’s his choice. It’s not my place to question it. Why the hell couldn’t he see that when it comes to me disappearing?

You went along like it was a normal day, but you couldn’t help but look for Albert when something funny happened, only to see you were selling by yourself. You let out a long sigh when you finally took your lunch break. You hadn’t sold as many papers as usual, but you couldn’t really find it in you to care. Deciding to wander and sell, you find yourself unconsciously making your way to the lodging house.

You climb the steps and are surprised to see Albert sitting on his bunk, his head in his hands. Cautiously making your way to him, you let out a quiet, “Hi.” He looks up at you and you gasp as you see the bruises and cuts that cover his face and arms. He looks down at the ground, not meeting your eyes. You set down your bag and rush to the bathroom, grabbing a cloth and soaking it in some water. Sitting next to him, you gently take his head in your hand and turn it towards you.

Carefully, you wipe the cloth over his cuts, and you hear him inhale sharply, but you continue anyway, not wanting them to get infected. As soon as you were done, you put the cloth back in the bathroom and then return to your spot next to Albert. You sit in silence for a few minutes before you ultimately break it by asking, “What happened?”

He says nothing for a few moments before letting out a sigh. He looks up at you with almost pleading eyes as he explains what happened after he walked out last night. “I decided to go for a walk, clear my head, y’know? But then I saw the Delancey’s in an alley beatin’ on some punk, and I was just so frustrated that I stepped in. Two on one ain’t exactly great odds, but I’ve faced worse,” he smirks.

You smack his shoulder, and he just gives you a look before continuing, “I got the Delancey’s off of the kid and then they start bad mouthing you, and I’m really seeing red, and I kind of got carried away.”

“Looks more like they got carried away with you.”

“Hey, I can take care of myself,” he says facing you.

“Yeah, well so can I. But at least when I’m left alone I don’t get into fights,” you tease. He scoffs at you but you can tell that it’s not in mean spirit. He sees your bag still full of papers, and gives you a questioning look. “I was wandering and was considering taking a nap, but then you were here,” you explain, looking away as a slight blush came to your cheeks, knowing he would see through your lie.

You can tell he has a huge smirk on his face by his teasing tone as he says, “C’mon, admit it, you missed me!” You shove him slightly and let out a small chuckle, shaking your head. “Look who’s being protective now, huh?”

“Keep dreamin’ Al,” you respond, but still don’t look at him. He turns your head so that you’re looking at him, and he just shakes his head at you.

“You are so stubborn, y’know that?” he teases.

“Look who’s talkin’,” you needle back. You’re staring into each others’ eyes and you get lost in the unspoken emotion conveyed in his gaze. You aren’t sure who leaned in first, but the next thing you know you two are kissing.

You don’t know how long you sit there entirely enraptured by each other, kissing and grabbing at each other, but soon enough you’re interrupted by a cough from behind you. Albert leans back, ready to tell the person off, but stops when he sees it’s only Race. He gives him a knowing look before backing out of the room with a wink. You start to laugh and try to muffle it by burying your head in Albert’s shoulder.

He gives the top of your head a kiss, then says, “I’m sorry if I went a bit overboard with protecting you, I just don’t want anything to happen to you. I care about you too much.”

You lift your head and look into his eyes before responding. “Well that would have been nice to know before, but that still doesn’t excuse it. I care about you too, but you don’t see me hangin’ on you just to make sure you don’t do something stupid. Although maybe I should if you try to fight two people at once.”

Albert rolls his eyes and rests his forehead on yours. “But I forgive you,” you continue. He gives you a goofy smile, which you return. “You want to see if we can sell the rest of these papers?”

“Why not?” he asks, getting up and grabbing your hand. You pick up the bag and you make your way out of the lodging house, ready to face the world with your boyfriend and selling partner.

[baekkxong]

Nightmare

Pairing: EXO Sehun X Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warning: Swearing

Word Count: 1,735

A/N THANK YOU FOR 500 FOLLOWERS OMG

here, have a Halloween sehun scenario

lol I had fun writing this one

Leaning against your bathroom sink, you added the finishing touches to your makeup. Satisfied, you leaned back with a sigh, admiring your appearance. You were pleasantly surprised. Reaching forwards, you picked up the thickly black rimmed glasses and slid them on. You looked great.

The local club was having a Halloween event, something your boyfriend and you had anticipated with great expectations. You’d argued back and forth over what to dress up as. The both of you had agreed that it had to be something relevant and new. You had come up with the idea of Eggsy and Roxy from the new Kingsman movie, while Sehun thought Thor and Loki would be better. The argument had taken place over weeks, until Sehun had finally given in and let you have your way. It was rare; Sehun was very stubborn.

You were fully dressed as Roxy – wearing a grey tweed jacket, a white shirt and dark striped tie. You heard an excited knock at the door, spinning out the bathroom and rushing to let Sehun in. Your eyes widened in shock.

“Sehun!” Instead of a smart, black suit and matching tie you’d expected, he stood in the full Thor suit. Your jaw dropped. He’d even dyed and cut his hair – it was now a dirty blonde with two diagonal strips cut into the side. Two, angry, red lines of paint swam parallel down the left side of face. He’d even gone the extra mile and had ordered a Thor hammer, grasping it proudly in his hand.

“Y/N? Why are you dressed like that?” He cocked his head to the side.

“I could say the same thing…” you trailed off, too shocked to form a full sentence.

“We agreed on Thor!” Sehun exclaimed.

“No, we didn’t! We went with my idea – Kingsman!”

The two of you stood in silence, staring at each other.

The door to the apartment next to yours opened, and your elderly neighbour stumbled out. She stared with wide eyes at Sehun, who looked like he’d stepped right out of a comic book, before giving a confused smile at you both. You smiled awkwardly back to her, feeling ridiculous; you probably looked like some kind of business woman to her.

Grabbing Sehun’s shoulder, you yanked him inside and shut the door.

“What are we going to do now?” you questioned, hands in your hair in distress.

You both took Halloween far too seriously, and you knew it. But in the moment, nothing seemed quite as important as this affair which you’d planned for weeks in advance.

“Who are we going as then? Thor and his well-known assistant?” you demanded, pacing back and forth in the small living room.

Sehun glanced at the clock. “We need to go.”

A little scream escaped out the back of your throat.

“Come on, let’s just go,” Sehun ordered, “we’ll think of a solution in the car.”

You rolled your eyes, but reached for your bag and followed him out the door.

“You know, you look really hot. You should wear those glasses more often.” You turned to thank Sehun, who’s eyes were fixed on the road. “Although, you would have looked even hotter as a female Loki.”

“Ugh, Sehun.” You crossed your arms and turned your head to glare out the window. “I was really looking forward to see you dressed all smartly, like an English Kingsman. You know how I feel about you wearing those kinds of glasses.”

You wanted to be annoyed with each other, but neither of you could really justify why. You’d both messed up your plans as equally as one another.

After a curt drive in the dark, you’d arrived in the city centre.  

“Wait, where are we?” you asked as you stepped out the car.

“There’s no parking spaces near the club; we’ll have to walk. It’s only short,” Sehun explained.

You could have murdered him. Sehun’s idea of ‘short’ was certainly not short, and you had already taken your shoes off before you’d arrived.

“Can you believe this? My feet are already killing, and we’ve not even got into the club yet!” you complained.

“Quit whining,” Sehun instructed, dropping a few coins into the bouncer’s outstretched hand and sauntering into the club. You stumbled after him.

It was loud and bright inside. Characters were wandering all over the place and you seemed to have already lost your other half. You were almost regretting your outfit as the shirt clung to your back with sweat; all the bodies seemed to make the room boil. You stood near the entrance, scanning the huge people-filled room.

“Boo!” A voice shouted into your ear, causing you to yelp in shock as you spun around to see Baekhyun, dressed in a huge black coat and a midnight coloured hat. His black hair was styled in waves, a straight fringe peeking from underneath the hat.

“Baekhyun!” you screeched, eyes still darting round for Sehun in the mass of people.

“Wow, what are you?” he asked, eyes trailing up and down your outfit.

“I’m Roxy from Kingsman,” you stated, still searching for your boyfriend.

“Oh, cool! So Sehun’s Eggsy then?” Baekhyun asked, beaming.

“Uhh,” you began, attempting to explain your misfortune.

“Man, I wish I had someone I could have dressed up with. Couple outfits are so cute,” he pouted, interrupting and saving you from the explanation.  

“So, what are you?” you questioned.

“I’m the Grim Reaper! From Goblin!”

Sehun suddenly appeared behind you, and you grabbed his arm and hauled him over to you.

“Sehun, control your friend. He almost gave me a heart attack!”

“That’s… kinda my job.” Baekhyun grinned. Suddenly he frowned, looking Sehun up and down with confusion. “Since when was the lead role in Kingsman blonde? And which scene was he dressed as a superhero? Am I missing something here?”

Sehun sighed and looked to the side.

“I’m Thor,” he mumbled.

“Thor?! But why are you Thor?” Baekhyun laughed, puzzled.

“Y/N was supposed to be Loki.”

“Whoa, that would have been hot.”

“I know right!” Sehun exclaimed, throwing his hands out to the side.

“Right, well, anyway. I’m gonna go and scare some more people. Bye guys!” Baekhyun waved before disappearing into the crowd.

“Someone needs to find him a girlfriend,” you said. Sehun murmured in agreement.

“I can’t believe we fucked this up so badly. We look so stupid.” Sehun sighed.

“Roxy and Eggsy was a perfect idea. It’s such a shame really.” You shook your head, looking up to the ceiling and away from your boyfriend.

“They’re not even a real couple!” Sehun protested.

“Neither are Thor and Loki!? They’re brothers,” you pointed out.

“But they’re an iconic duo.”

“Not really. Loki continuously tries to kill Thor.”

“Exactly. That’s why I thought you should be Loki.”

“Hey! At least Roxy and Eggsy could work as a team!”

“Guys,” Jongdae interrupted, “let me buy you two more drinks.”

The two of you had been quarrelling for a good few minutes while you sat with Jongdae and Minseok at the bar, who were probably fed up with you both now. They’d dressed up as Mario and Luigi; a result of being single and only having your friend willing to dress up with you. Jongdae came to your sides with the drinks in his hands. Sehun had been drinking all kinds of cocktails, while you were stuck with lemonade as you’d offered to drive you both home.

You picked up the glass, downing it all in one as if it was alcohol while Jongdae and Sehun stared with wide eyes. You slammed the empty cup down on the bar.

“I’m gonna need a glass of straight vodka in a minute if Sehun doesn’t shut up.”

Sehun’s jaw fell open and he crossed his arms childishly, looking away as if he were offended.

“God… See, Y/N, this is why you don’t go for the maknae. You had such a broad choice of men, yet somehow you’re stuck with the boy,” Minseok said, finishing off the rest of his drink and getting up from the bar stool. “Come on Jongdae, let’s find some girls. I hate baby-sitting these two.”

Jongdae nodded in agreement as the two slid through the crowd together.

“Great. They’ve abandoned me,” you sighed, crossing your arms on the bar and leaning your head on them sideways, so you looked up at Sehun. Sehun started biting his lip before looking down at you.

“Should we go somewhere?” he proposed.

“I don’t feel like dancing…” you mumbled.

“I mean outside of the club.” You perked up at this. The club hadn’t really exceeded your expectations.

The bar-tender watched you both depart, sighing in relief to himself. The two of you had been difficult to work around.

You’d agreed on finding somewhere classy for a meal, finally settling with a posh looking restaurant, before comically realising that you were both dressed up as characters.

“How embarrassing,” you mumbled, stumbling out the restaurant close behind Sehun while the waiter at the reception watched after you in distaste. “I can’t believe we just walked into a place like that looking like this.”

The both of you continued to trope through the city, unable to find anywhere that’d be socially acceptable for you to sit and eat while in full costume. That was until a huge yellow ‘M’ sign smiled down at you - as if you were seeing the sun for the first time - from the end of the road.

“McDonalds! Am I glad to see you,” you grinned, jumping for joy. You glanced at Sehun, who was also looking at the building with shining eyes. “Can we agree on that?”

With food in your stomachs, you both felt satisfied. The servers had quizzed themselves on who you’d both dressed up to be, while you and Sehun had laughed it off, explaining the story. You weren’t the only Halloween characters in the fast-food restaurant, which made you both feel less ashamed.  

“I mean, it wasn’t what I had in mind… But at least we had a good night in the end, right?” Sehun asked, reaching for a chip from the tray.

“Definitely. I’ll admit, you make a hot Thor. Chris Hemsworth’s got nothing on you,” you said, smiling wistfully and admiring your boyfriend.

Sehun smugly smiled to himself. “Should we go now? I want to see how Roxy is in bed,” Sehun winked. You laughed, pushing the empty tray aside.

“Maybe it’s for the best that I didn’t dress up as Loki then…”

[snipsnsnailsnwerewolftales]

You were dancing happily along to your favourite song, everything was perfect. Well, that was until Peter decided to barge into the loft, making you fall face first into the laundry basket. You didn't know where Derek or Isaac was, but you were pretty sure you heard Peter chuckle. "PETER HALE, YOU HELP ME THIS INSTANT OR I SWEAR I'LL KILL YOU!!" You yelled, although it sounded more like incoherent mumbling. At this exact moment Derek and Issac found it perfect to come from where they'd been...

Apparently just a few steps behind Peter, the two of them burst out into laughter simultaneously within just a few short seconds of entering the loft, Peter’s chuckle only getting louder at their reaction.

You regretted your demands, you really did, because due to your complaining about wading through what felt like fifteen or more laundry baskets each laundry day between the four of you, making trip after trip for load after load, Derek had given in and bought one of those large industrial bins on wheels like they usually have at the end of laundry chutes at fancy hotels.

Well, he says he bought it, but you think it was left abandoned somewhere here in the building from forever ago, and he had just cleaned it up, replacing a few parts here and there, but no matter what they did, the right front wheel still had a squeak that let out once for every rotation of the wheel, making it sound like a limp of sorts as it was wheeled across the loft.

So falling into the giant bin meant to help you was more like being eaten by a black hole, only this smelled infinitely worse than you imagined space to smell like. Though, you could have sworn you saw stars for a second there, whether from rage or sudden immersion in the smell of death that was everyone’s laundry, you weren’t sure.

Flailing only seemed to make it worse, clothes wrapping around you from all sides, seemingly trying to pull you back in, and increasing the laughter already pointed your way from your three idiot roommates.

Emerging atop the mass of clothing, you took a deep breath, looking on wide eyed as they looked back at you with an indiscernible look, their laughter suddenly stopping, and an eerie calm settling in the space. Looking up where their gazes were directed at the top of your head, you realized a pillow case had somehow managed to make it onto your head like a hat, and you batted it off angrily after staring up at it a moment, making the cart roll slightly, that little baby squeak of the wheel the only sound aside from your vicious attack on the fabric wrapping itself in knots around your arms, seemingly not wanting to let go.

Stopping with a huff, letting your shoulders shrug dramatically with the movement, you stared down at the rest of the clothes and sheets around you, your arms dropping defeatedly in front of you, the pillowcase still around them acting like handcuffs.

Snapping your head up at the sound of a camera going off, you saw Isaac with his phone in hand, pointing your way, and a shit eating grin on his face.

“Lahey, I’m gonna kill you.” Normally your tone of voice would have scared whoever was on the receiving end, but as you had established long ago, your three roommates were far from normal, and that was even taking into account that they were lycanthropes.

“How do you keep ending up in these situations?” Peter mused, trying to fight the smile that kept making it’s way up his face despite his best efforts, Isaac still grinning like a maniac unabashedly

You rolled your head dramatically to face the oldest of your little band of four, letting your eyebrows knit in an ‘I am not amused’ sort of way. “Because despite my better judgment, my three idiot roommates continue to somehow cause my life to be full of unexpected incidents.”

With a final flail, the pillowcase released your arms and you stretched with a sigh, rolling your wrists as if you had been confined for hours.

“Would this be a bad time to tell you you have Isaac’s lacrosse jersey wrapped around your neck, ironically, like one of his scarves?” Derek had a smile that continued to grow as he spoke, a chuckle making his words choppy.

A moment of silence passed between the four of you before you let out a war cry, using your body to get momentum behind the large cart, and causing it to roll with impressive speed towards the Alpha, the wheel letting out it’s limping squeak at impressive speed, before you hopped out at the last second and tackled him to the ground, straddling his midsection and digging your knees into his ribcage to keep him there, pinning his chest down with both of your palms pressing into it’s center. He looked up at you in surprise, wide eyed, and you smirked, wondering why he expected anything less from you after all these years. You barely registered the squeaky wheel slowing down before hitting the bottom step of the entry to the loft, bouncing back slightly before stopping altogether, drawing out a final, prolonged squeak before the wheels stilled.

“I don’t know, Derek. Is it?” You said, in reference to his comment about the jersey, lowering your face to get unnecessarily close to his, sticking the fabric of the jersey onto his nose.

Coughing at the sudden smell accosting his senses in such close proximity, you laughed, rising up off the ground, pulling off the item of clothing before wadding it up, and throwing it at Isaac, successfully hitting him square in the face. “That’s for taking a picture of me in my time of need, asshole.”

Peter was chuckling, stilling when you turned on your heel his way. “And as for you, since you were first to find me in my state of crisis, in fact, you caused it, you get to do all that laundry.” You pointed at the bin, contents spilling over from your battle inside it, a trail leading to it from the sheer force you had used to make it hurl across the loft. It had been a long week, full of training and fighting the newest evil to walk the streets of your little town, and so the pile had simply grown and grown and grown. Peter nodded soundlessly in agreement, his eyes wide in a special kind of fear reserved only for you in these particular moments.

“And you,” you turned to Derek who was just rising from the floor, eyeing him up for a moment. “You’re just lucky I don’t feel like becoming an Alpha today.”

Derek growled and flashed his eyes at you, Isaac mumbling an “oh shit”, making you turn his way. “Don’t you dare send that photo to the pack. I swear to God, Isaac, I will-”

All three of your phones went off simultaneously, Isaac wincing, and you immediately knew it was the group message between all of the pack members.

Your eyes glowed bright yellow. “I may not feel like becoming an Alpha today, but I’m all for kicking a certain Beta’s ass….” you growled, looking Isaac in the eye.

“You wouldn’t.” He gulped.

“It’s like you don’t even know me-” all four of your phones went off with a ding, indicating a reply to the group thread. “I’m gonna-” Ding. “You’re so-” Ding. “I swear to God, Isaac, when I’m done with you-” Ding.

Ding.

Ding.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

Ding. Ding.

Ding.

You snarled, ignoring all the further alerts to replies the phones gave off. “I’m gonna kill you.”

“I’m not afraid of you.” Isaac stuck his chin out defiantly, sticking his nose up in the air. “Besides, blue eyes would not be becoming on you.”

“Oh, you are far from innocent in this, my friend,” you said, your voice low, glowing your eyes at your fellow Beta, lowering into a fighting stance, ready to launch. “Did you even smell that shirt I threw in your face? That alone is a crime in and of itself. Only evil emits that kind of stink.”

Isaac gasped. “How rude!”

Peter let out a huff behind you. “I, too, am offended, considering I basically am evil on a base level, so….”

You turned your face to Derek, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t look at me,” he said, hands raised slightly, showing his palms in innocence, “I’m not becoming a part of this whole situation. You guys are all just too…. Weird.” He seemed to think for a moment before deciding otherwise. “Actually, you know what?” He turned to Peter, pointing at him. “You, do the laundry.”

The finger turned to Isaac along with his body, cutting off the rebuttal Peter was starting before it got anywhere. “You, help him.” Isaac hung his head, nodding, before walking slowly and grabbing a corner of the bin, Peter grabbing the other, and together they pulled it slowly to the laundry room, picking up the stray pieces off the floor as they went, quietly bickering about something between the two of them, the wheel squeaking at a steady, slow pace.

The finger then turned to you. “And you,” he stopped for a moment before launching at you, pinning you to the floor like you had him earlier, his knees digging into your ribcage, your wrists pinned on either side of your head in his hands. “Stop being so bossy.”

Isaac barked out a laugh from across the loft, Peter snorting his own amusement before saying, “Like that’ll ever happen.”

You snapped your head their way to look at them, a snarl leaving your lips as your upper body lifted before being pushed down again by Derek with a warning growl. Glancing up at him briefly, your lip still curled in a snarl, you quickly turned your gaze back to the other two, seeing them go wide eyed before finally scurrying away into the laundry room and out of your sight, making you smirk, before looking back up to Derek.

He was looking at you in a funny way, one you couldn’t quite read. “I swear, I don’t know how I ended up with you three as my pack members,” he shook his head gently, smiling somewhat amusedly.

You chuckled. “You’re just that lucky, I guess.”

“Luck ain’t got nothing to do with it, kid.”

You flipped in his grip, pinning him once again, laughing at his fuming face.

“Lucky shot,” he said sarcastically.

You grinned. “Luck ain’t got nothing to do with it, kid.”

Let’s do that 5 sentence meme!

[winchesterdesire]

Unexpected

Part 6 of Done Waiting.

Pairings: Dean x reader, OC x reader (mentioned)

Characters: Dean, Sam, Reader, OC’s

Warnings: angst lots of angst, some torture?

Summary: Dean struggles with readers date and can’t help but blame himself when things go wrong… (eh, I’m crap at these summaries, sorry!)

Enjoy! Or something like that!

…………………..

The sound of a phone dropping to the ground, from thin air, makes a loud clunk as it hits the tarmac. The screen cracking. A suffocating silence feels the air and even those in the restaurant appear to have hushed their conversations. The phone left on the ground is still connected, the call screen just visible through the cracks now running across its surface. Dean’s voice came over the line, cutting through the heavy atmosphere,

“Y/N? Y/N?! Son of a..”

The call disconnected. The phone glowing softly, before it went black. The silence stole back across the car park, now devoid of any human life.

……………………….

A few hours earlier……

[Dean’s POV]

I watched as y/n walked out the door. The slam of it making me wince. What the hell just happened?! I know I’d been a dick the other week. I still felt the guilt eating me up on the inside. I hated what I did to her. Sam had let slip that she liked me. But I didn’t believe him. I didn’t think anyone could like me, at least not like that. So I kept her at a distance, or tried to. I don’t know what it was about her, but she was able to get me to open up, take some of my walls down. Some walls I didn’t even know I had. God, my mind was spiralling into a chick flick. Probably why I hated them so much, reminded me of my own shitty inner turmoil. Anyway, I thought by distancing myself from her I was keeping her safe. I was wrong. I was always fucking wrong.

When I’d seen her with that guy, it was like a dam inside me broke. It was terrifying how much it effected me to see her with someone else. I realised she must feel this every time I was with another woman. I swore then and there never to pick up a random woman again. But it was too late. Of course it was. She had moved on from me. I had lost my chance and she was never going to forgive me.

Well I guess my plan to keep her at an arms length had succeeded. She was much further away than that now. I punched a wall as Sammy watched me. His annoying puppy eyes boring into the back of my head.

“Dean..”

“Shut it Sammy”

I let out an angry breath. At myself not her. I thought last night had healed some of the wounds. The wounds I’d caused. She’d been cold with me all week. No texts, no calls. To be fair I hadn’t texted her either. I assumed I was the last person she wanted to speak to.

Disappearing like that with Sammy to go on a hunt themselves though, had caused me pain in ways I didn’t know were possible. First I was jealous she had picked Sam. I know they’re close but I always thought it was more like a brother/sister relationship between them. Which was true, but it didn’t stop the twist in my gut when she picked him over me. It was stupid to feel that way, but I couldn’t help it. I swallowed it down in alcohol, like always. God I’m such a mess. Then… then I missed her like crazy. As hard as it was to admit to myself, I missed her casual affection. The small touches, the looks… I missed her.

So when she had let me hold her last night… I thought.. she was obviously just pitying me. I’d lost her and she was trying to be nice. She’d moved on.

I gritted my teeth thinking about that bag of dicks she was going on a ‘date’ with. That word had cut through me harshly. It jolted me, and I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. Hell why couldn’t I be happy for her? It’s what I’d been pushing her away to do anyway right? I was being selfish now.

Images of her scared face flashed before my eyes. I winced. Sam looked up at me from his laptop, with a concerned glance. When had he moved to do that? I realised I’d slumped back on the floor, leaning my back against the bed and was just staring at the wall. I muttered something about needing the restroom, and got up, purposely avoiding Sammy’s annoying concern.

Once in the bathroom, I leant against the sink, turning the tap on and letting the sound of the running water, wash over me. I splashed my face and looked up in the mirror. My dull eyes were staring back at me. I flinched at the dark look that seemed to shadow my face. Y/N’s scared expression once again crossing my minds eye. I’d done that. I’d terrified her, intimidated her into freaking cowering away from me. I drove her away and into the arms of another man. It confirmed my thoughts, that she would be safer away from me. If I caused that much terror in her… I must really be the monster I always knew I was. She was right to run from me. She should run. Yet the selfish part of me couldn’t accept that. It wanted her for myself, and rose up in a jealous rage that she was with another guy right now. He was probably making her laugh and smile. That gorgeous smile, with the dimples that only showed when she was happy. I clutched the sink, my knuckles turning white. I should be the one making her laugh, making her happy. Not that guy… that James. My mind warped around the name. I was an angry mess in seconds which terrified me. I heard the smash and then felt the pain. My hand came away from the mirror cut and bloodied. Shards of glass littering the sink. Then Sam was knocking urgently on the door.

“Dean? You alright in there?”

I sighed looking at the mess I’d made and grabbing some toilet roll to begin cleaning my bleeding hand with,

“Yeah, I’m good”

My voice sounded hollow to my own ears and I knew Sammy wouldn’t buy it. But I also knew he wouldn’t push it. As on cue I heard him move away from the door.

I slowly shook my head at myself. I needed to get a grip. Put my walls back up. I didn’t need this kind of thinking in my head. That’s what got you killed. Being distracted like this.

For the rest of the day, Sam and me continued to do research. Trying to find a couple in town who were new and passionate for each other. God this was the worst type of case we could be doing right now. We found a few leads and even camped outside a couples house for a bit. When nothing happened and we weren’t getting anywhere Sam called it a day and we headed back to the motel.

Neither of us had heard anything from Y/N for a while now. I was beginning to get twitchy about her being gone. Where was she? Why was she taking so long? On second thoughts I don’t think I really wanted to think about what the answers might be to those questions. I swear she was only meant to be going for lunch. It had been at least 3 hours now. Sam had already left a couple of messages. I also sent my own. Trying to sound normal. I could tell they came across grumpy and pissed though. Why couldn’t I do anything right? Texting was even a freaking chore. Fuck sake, listen to me whinging on like some teenager. I was pissing myself off, I couldn’t imagine what my mood was doing to Sam. I glanced over at him but he was keeping his eyes glued to his laptop screen. Typical.

I pushed myself up and sauntered over to where he sat at the table. I pulled out a chair, slumping into it. Sam breifly glanced my way before returning to his laptop like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen in his life. I cleared my throat, pushing all my thoughts about y/n down and away. Kicking one of the opposite chairs out I put my feet up and lifted the practically empty beer bottle to my lips draining the dregs. I turned my attention back to Sammy, hoping he’d found something in all the time he’d had his head jammed in that hunched over position he got when researching or avoiding me.

“Whatca got? Found anything?”

I could at least sound a little more hopeful. Christ. I was more preparing myself for the inevitable. No news. Or bad news. It was never good. Sam looked up at me properly then, leaning back in his chair and clearing his throat. He didn’t look too hopeful either.

“Nothing on potential vics.”

I knew it. I rolled my eyes.

“What’s new?”

“Well, I’ve actually found out something about our ghost. Or spirit.”

I quirked my eyebrows questioningly. This was something.

“And?”

“I think it might be Iele.”

“A what?”

Why was it always something so cryptic and unheard of. Why couldn’t it ever be a simple salt and burn anymore? I leaned forward, frowning. I’d never heard of one those, I stared at Sammy waiting for him to continue as he typed and clicked at his laptop obviously trying to find the page again.

“Iele. Seducers of men. A Romanian mythical nymph like creature. But the details I found are quite specific and match eerily well with this case. Apparently they take vengeance on those they think have wronged them in some way. They can’t be seen by humans and cause mysterious deaths to their victims. They enchant men with their voices. Huh. I guess we could look up if there was a concert here or something. If the guy fell under the song and then with distance…“

My eyes widened with understanding,

“If those men then got a new girl and… well she’d be pissed.”

This was starting to chime uncomfortably close. Damn our stupid lives. It was never clean cut.

“Yeah, well anyone in its vicinity would be prey. If they heard it’s song I guess. The circumstances aren’t specific.”

Like that helped. I dragged my chair beside Sam’s and glanced over the page he had up. I scanned for any details about weaknesses or how to kill the bitches.

“So how do we put an end to these douche wads?”

Sam grimaced and I glanced at him sceptical. This was either going to be really shit or brilliant. My bets were on the first.

“There’s not really a way to ‘end’ them but you can put precautions in place so they can’t come near you.”

I matched Sammy’s grimace, not really wanting to know what voodoo shit we would have to do.

“Err let’s have a look… cures were invented against the Iele, including wearing garlic and mugwort around the waist, in the bosom, or hung from the hat. Right… or hanging the skull of a horse…. on a pole…. in front of the house. The most important cure though is the dance of Călușari.”

I looked at Sammy with disbelief, that was it? “Mug..mugwort? The dance of what?”

Sam sighed and shrugged at me, “That’s what it says man. I can’t really find anything else.”

“Bullshit, there must be something else? Some bones we can salt and burn?”

But before I knew it Sam had ordered mugwort and garlic and was trying to memorise the dance.

I groaned, refusing to take part in.. whatever it was. Sam shrugged, getting on with it. I grabbed my own laptop trying to find something, anything else that might help us, despite not having found anything previously.

Another hour passed and still no sign of Y/N. We’d tried contacting her again to no avail. I tried more than Sam did. I didn’t want to think of what her lunch had led to if it had, but at the same time, I was worried something had happened to her. She didn’t really know… him.

My instincts were screaming at me that something was wrong. I tapped the table impatiently, Sam throwing his looks that were beginning to grate on me. I’d had enough of waiting and was picking up my phone to call her again, when it rang.

I almost threw it across the room. It was her.

My heart clenched and my irritation drained away to be replaced with concern and just wanting to hear her voice. I answered quickly, my heart pounding. Christ, I wish I could keep a control of that happening.

“Hello?”

Hello?! I knew it was her. Hell. I hated being such a moron sometimes. My voice sounded gruff and I had no idea how it came across to her.

Her voice filtered over the line, it seemed tired and sad, I desperately wanted to make her feel better.

“Dean, hi.”

Before I knew it I had breathed her name out in response, I bit my lip, silently cursing my inability to stop myself. She paused for a second and then her voice came back sounding unsure. What was going on, was she ok?

“Umm, I hate to ask but could you come pick me up?”

What?! Had the douche bag left her somewhere without offering her lift back?! I gritted my teeth,

“Sure, where are you?”

I waited for her to respond but instead I heard a thud and a crack. I sat bolt up right listening intensely, Sam glanced at me concerned, still nothing,

“Y/N?“ No response, “Y/N?! Son of a bitch!”

I hung up half way through speaking, slamming my phone down, Sam stared at me worry all over his face. My own hardened as I pulled the impala keys out of my pocket and made my way over to the door, knocking over my chair in my haste.

Sam was right behind me, “Is she ok?”

My shoulders tensed, what a stupid question. But I didnt break my stride, flinging open the door,

“What do you think? Genius.”

…………………….

I sped along the road, my hands gripping the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white, each second I wasn’t close, taking a painful toll on me. I gritted my teeth, pressing down on the gas, Sammy tracking her phone. I didn’t feel like I was going fast enough.

After what felt like a lot longer than it should have been, we pulled up in a car park. It was outside a Greek resturant. I didn’t know she liked Greek food. If I had I would have brought her some or taken her somewhere. I mean the place wasn’t too shabby, but I would have taken her somewhere nicer. Much nicer.

Baby had hardly come to stop, when I flung open the door. My hunter instincts kicked in, my senses sharpening. It didn’t take me long to find it. Her phone. It was lying on the ground, it’s screen cracked. I picked it up, willing it to reveal something about her whereabouts to me.

“Sammy!”

He was by my side in an instant.

Taking the phone from me, he turned it in his hands, examining it as I turned to look around. I scanned the parking lot for any signs of disturbance. I tried to see if there were any foot prints, a scrap of clothing, anything. Anything that might tell me where she had gone.

I spun around frustrated. Sam was already checking for EMF. He walked around and I brought out my own, to help cover more ground. It went wild around where Y/N’s phone had been and it continued a path in the direction of the road. We slowly followed it to the road edge where it petered out. I threw mine down in frustration, kicking it away from me.

“Crap!”

I turned back to Sam to see why he wasn’t as pissed off. He was just looking in front of him.

“Sammy, come on….”

He cut me off before I could continue.

“Dean. Look.”

He nodded with his head in the direction he was looking, at first I didn’t know what he was looking at. I frowned until I saw it.

Just on the rise of the horizon, was the house. The one on the edge of this town we had checked out before. I looked around and recognised the road, now I wasn’t tunnelling along it. Before there had been nothing to find there. Perhaps it was because the last couple had died a week back. So there wasn’t any recent activity to pick up on. But now…. now Y/N was missing. There was strong EMF leading this way and she’d just been on a date. That could potentially class as a new relationship. I gritted my teeth at the thought and didn’t even want to think about what could have made her date… passionate….

Spinning on my heel, my strode back to the impala.

“You coming Sammy?”

We jumped back into baby and I threw her into drive as quick as I could. If this ghost, this.. this spirit thing had Y/N, I was going to get her back and give it hell.

……………………..

As I raced along towards the house my thoughts were consumed with how I’d gank this spirit bitch. And how if I ever met this James I’d make him pay for leaving y/n alone. My eye caught some detritus in the road. As we whipped past I thought I saw a car totalled on the side. I didn’t have time to process it, I was already far past it at the speed I was travelling.

We screeched up to the house. Again I’d barely stopped the car when I was already out and running towards the house, cocking my gun. I was about to kick the door in when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I spun around ferociously, my entire body on high alert.

Sam stood with his hands in the air. He reached out slowly, taking the gun from me. I almost growled.

“Hey, woah. Just.. time out ok..”

“Time out? If Y/N’s in there…”

“I know. I know. She’s my best friend. I care about her too, but we have to have a plan this time. Alright? We can’t just salt and burn”

“I can slow it down” I reached for my gun but Sam lifted it out my reach, the tall freak.

“And not help anyone. Listen, I’ll take the Impala and go back to the motel. The items should have arrived by now. I’ll pick them up, come straight back. Meanwhile you scout out the house, try and find out how to get in unnoticed, you know the drill. Just no rushing in hot headed ok?”

I looked around sucking in my cheeks, god he was irritating when he was right. Without looking back at him I nodded. I might as well be a stroppy kid. I saw Sam let out a breath and he held his hand out for the keys. I reluctantly handed them over.

“If there’s even a scratch, god help me Sammy”

“Understood”

And with that he was driving off to pick up the stuff. I turned back to the house, surveying it. My body itching to rush in and deal with whatever came my way as and when. I bit my lip forcing myself to scout it out.

The house was pretty average for its type. Two storeys, a loft conversion and a basement. At least that’s what I gathered from my patrolling the outside. There was also an open window at the back. Well it was more broken than open but same difference. And the back door itself didn’t look all that secure.

I’d rounded the house a few times now making my observations. I was getting twitchy waiting for Sam. If he didn’t arrive soon I was going in without him. I had no idea what could be happening to y/n. My mind kept turning to the worst scenarios. I flinched away from most of them. I really didn’t want to think about that. Instead I turned my mind back to how I was going to find this James guy and give him a piece of my mind.

Having spent the last ten minutes riled up, I was about to run head first into that cursed house and get y/n out, when I heard the blessed purrs of Baby behind me. I whipped round to see Sam jumping out the car, duffle bag in hand,

“What the hell took you so long?!”

Sam threw me a sour look and I huffed a bit.

“Here I have everything. I also decided to bring some iron weapons. It’s still a spirit right?”

I grunted my agreement, impatiently grabbing for the items Sam had brought. I turned back to the house kitted up, when Sam stopped me again.

“Dean we need a plan and I think James might be in there too.”

I closed my eyes and grit my teeth before being ready to turn and face him,

“What makes you think that?”

My voice sounded strained to me and I watched as Sam’s eyes widened slightly, he cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact,

“I don’t know if you noticed but there was a car, it was crashed on the side of the road. I stopped, which is why I took longer. I checked it and there was no one inside it, but I found blood on the windscreen and this…”

I glanced down at what was now in Sam’s hand. It was an security ID card. James Novak. The name rang in my head. The last name chiming something inside of me, like I should know it. Murky depths in my mind trying to come to light. I shook my head. At least one thing was certain though, he was probably trapped with y/n. I looked up to Sam to confirm I’d clocked it. Sam retracted the card and scanned it himself.

“Doesn’t it feel like we know that name?”

I made a non-committal noise. We didn’t have time to dwell on this. Not now. We could question the dick bag after we had saved his ass and gotten y/n to safety. I shrugged at Sam. Picking up my stuff, I turned towards the house, this time with the full intention to kick that freaking door in.

“Come on, we’ve wasted enough time. There’s a broken window out back. You take that, I’ll go in the front way.”

I didn’t have to wait for a response to know Sam would follow the order. I heard him scuffle behind me as he collected his things. I turned my full attention to the house, the fiery need to get y/n out and alive fuelling my every step.

I hated it when these houses looked exactly like the crap out of horror movies. It grated against me. Yet here we were. In a house that looked exactly like it was out of the Blair Witch Project or something. I held my gun aloft, moving slowly, with a calm I certainly didn’t feel. I moved about the ground floor, acknowledging Sam as he climbed in through the window. He headed towards the stairs as I finished my sweep. There didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary on the ground floor, besides the general creeptastic atmosphere.

I heard Sammy move around on the floor above me and hoped he was having more luck, when he appeared at the top of the stairs shaking his head.

Great the basement it was then. Always the freaking basement. Sam came to join me as I made my way stealthily down the steps. My body began to tingle with anticipation and though I would never admit it. Fear. Fear that something had already happened to her.

We reached the bottom, only to find nothing. It was a cluttered old space, full of junk and crap, but there was no one in sight. We rifled through the crap, turning things over, looking for signs of… well anything.

I couldn’t take this anymore. What the hell was going on here?! I punched a wall, leaning heavily on it afterwards. I leant my head against it, the cold sending a shiver down my spine. My eyes closed as I tried to regain control of myself.

I don’t know how long I stood like that for, but it took Sammy shaking my shoulder to snap me out of it. He was looking at me weirdly. Damn him and his weird looks.

“What gives? I’ve been saying your name for the past few minutes. I think I found something”

I was about to snap back when his last words cut across my clouded thoughts. I stood to attention, pushing past him and scanning the room,

“Where?”

“If you’d let me show you?”

I huffed but stepped aside to let him pass and lead the way. My impatience and emotions were getting in the way. What if I couldn’t be trusted to do what was needed if it came to that? I shook myself. This was no time to start questioning myself with doubts. I had to be on my game.

Sam lead the way to the other side of the space. It was crammed full of shelves. Sam stopped in front of the far end one, motioning for me to come closer.

“Just here, do you feel it?”

I crouched down, putting my hand out into the space Sam had pointed out. The hair on my arm stood up as a cold draft drifted over my hand, disturbing the stale air of the basement. I glanced at Sam who was looking at me knowingly.

“Trap door?”

Sam nodded and started to shift things around. I realised he was trying to find the opening or some sort of handle. I stooped down to help him, trailing my hand over any visible cracks.

I steeled myself, making myself take it slow and be thorough. After what seemed like an age, my hand slipped over something smooth. I caught Sam’s attention. He waited for me to continue. I explored how it moved for a bit before tugging it down. A click was heard and a line of light appeared to the side of Sam. He moved to it instantly, running his fingers under the edge. Another click sounded as I assumed he found a latch of some sort. The floor next to him lifted up in a hatch door. A dull light emitting up from the room below. Sam glanced at me before swinging his legs into the gap in the floor and dropping down.

I followed quickly after. Brushing myself off as I stood from where I’d landed. I waited for my eyes to adjust to see a small, damp corridor leading to a rusty door at the end. Talk about horror film spooktacular.

We cautiously approached the door. The sudden drop in temperature making us wary. Sam reached it first and pushed gently on the door. It moved open slightly. Sammy looked at me with raised eyebrows. I knew what he meant, it seemed too easy. Why would the door be open? I mean it was behind a secret trap door thing but still.

Sam pushed it open gingerly and walked into the space his gun raised. I wasn’t far behind, when Sam was flung to the side of the room. I stepped forward hurriedly only for the same thing to happen to me.

My back hit against the opposite wall, the breath leaving my body. Winded I struggled for air and to get a grip on my surroundings. My heart stopped in my chest.

She was here. Some of my worst fears realised. She was suspended in mid air, her clothes torn and bloodied. I could see the cuts and gashes in her skin beneath the tattered clothing. Blood dripping down to the floor. What had happened to her?! James was here too. Strapped to a chair, off to the side of her. He didn’t seem to be as badly harmed and rage ripped through me.

I finally found strenght in my trapped limbs and tore myself off the wall, also finding my voice.

“Y/N!!!!!”

……………………………