#i was screaming for about 30 seconds when I saw this image

[thekahootofeverything]

I knew nothing about Pony Town and didn’t care much for it until a friend sent me this. Now it’s over. I have played two hours of Pony Town already. I am working on a Wurt pony. My eyes have been opened and I understand what must be done. I am slowly getting my Twitter friends to join me on pony town. The DST survivors must get teleported to a new location…

[inkmonster21]

Short n’ Sweet💋

Hugh Jackman x Fem!Sister!Reynolds!Reader

Warnings: smut (oral)

Part 07

Series Masterlist

Paintings With His Tongue

💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋

The first thing Ryan expected to see on his phone was anything besides what he saw. He opened his phone, went on safari, and before he could even make his search article after article began appearing. All with clear photos of you and Hugh. KISSING!

Ryan's anger was beyond describable when he saw the pictures captured by the paparazzi. The images of you and Hugh locked in a passionate kiss outside your apartment building fueled his fury to unprecedented levels. He seethed with anger, unable to contain his frustration.

Ryan's anger reaches its boiling point, and he slams his hand onto the table with a loud thud. His voice booms throughout the room, filled with a mix of rage and betrayal.

"I FUCKING KNEW IT!" he roars, his words laced with a sense of vindication. "I knew something was going on!"

Ryan, fueled by anger and betrayal, storms out of his trailer with purpose. His footsteps are heavy and determined as he searches for Hugh, a man on a mission to confront the object of his intense disapproval.

You and Hugh sit together, going over your lines and discussing your characters' roles. The light and joyful atmosphere is a stark contrast to the impending confrontation with Ryan. Laughter and conversation fill the space between you, the bond between you growing stronger by the second. But the laughter is cut short as the sound of approaching footsteps breaks the peaceful moment. Ryan's heavy footsteps approach, signaling his arrival. The mood shifts instantly, the atmosphere growing tense and heavy with anticipation.

“Hey, Ry.” You smile, “This Sabrina chick is so out of pocket. I love it.” Instead of responding to your cheerful comment about the character Sabrina, Ryan bypasses you completely. His attention is solely focused on Hugh, and in a quick, unexpected move, Ryan swings his fist directly at Hugh.

The impact of Ryan's punch sends Hugh staggering back, surprised by the unexpected attack. The room falls into silence, the air thick with shock and tension. Hugh rubs at his jaw, his expression a mix of surprise and bewilderment. Ryan's voice is filled with outrage and betrayal as he hurls insults at Hugh. His words ring out with a mix of anger and disappointment. "You mother fucker!" he screams, his words filled with disdain. "You're a lying, sick bastard!"

Hugh remains silent, his jaw clenched as he absorbs the barrage of insults and accusations hurled at him by Ryan. His body language is taut and guarded, caught off-guard by the unexpected attack and the intensity of Ryan's anger.

Ryan's voice thunders through the room, his anger directed at Hugh like a laser-focused on its target. The realization of the age gap between Hugh and you seems to fuel his rage even more. "She's 30 years younger than you!" he seethes, disbelief and disdain evident in his tone.

Your yell cuts through the air, the one-word command directed at Ryan. "Stop!" As you speak, he turns towards you, his focus shifting from Hugh to you. The change in his attention is obvious as his eyes lock onto yours.

As Ryan's gaze falls upon you, it becomes evident that his anger is not solely directed at Hugh. The disappointment and betrayal in his eyes are also aimed at you, his sister. The realization that you're not immune to his wrath sinks in as he stares you down. The room remains tense, the atmosphere heavy with emotion. Hugh stands a few paces away, his jaw tender from the attack, while Ryan stands before you, his eyes burning with a multitude of emotions – anger, sadness, and disappointment. The three of you are now caught in the whirlwind of this unexpected confrontation.

Ryan's finger is pointed directly at you, his words filled with disbelief and disappointment. "And you," he says, his voice rising with anger. "You know better. I told you, several times, no! You are too young!" The pain and betrayal in his eyes as he gazes at you are palpable, reflecting the deep concern and protectiveness he feels as your older brother.

Your protest rings out, your voice filled with a mixture of defiance and frustration. "I'm 24 years old, Ryan! I'm not a child!" The truth of your age hangs in the air, a stark reminder of your adult status and the autonomy that comes with it.

But Ryan's expression remains stern, his disapproval etched on his face. He shakes his head, his words laced with a hint of skepticism. "You're 24, but he's 54! It's a 24-year age gap!" The sheer magnitude of the difference in your ages is not lost on him, fueling his argument against your relationship with Hugh.

Your response is firm and resolute, your voice filled with determination. "I don't care!" You meet Ryan's gaze, refusing to back down from your feelings and choices. The defiance and conviction in your eyes match Ryan's intensity, signaling a battle of wills between siblings.

Ryan's voice drips with venom as he glares at Hugh, his words laced with a warning. "You fucking will." His tone is harsh and unapologetic. "When he breaks your heart, you’ll care." The warning hangs in the air, a dire prediction of the heartache he believes you will experience in your relationship with Hugh.

The aftermath of Ryan's outburst leaves the room in a state of quiet tension. The remaining crew members finish up their tasks, their murmurs hushed as they go about their business. The show is over, but the emotional fallout of the confrontation lingers in the air.

Your voice trembles as you speak, a mix of anger and emotional turmoil evident in your tone. "It's too early for this shit," you curse, your words punctuated by the tears welling up in your eyes.

Hugh's hands find their way to your shoulders, his touch gentle yet comforting. His voice is soft and soothing as he murmurs words of reassurance. "It's okay, baby," he whispers, his expression filled with concern and affection.

You turn towards Hugh, a look of concern etched on your face. Your hand reaches out to cup his jaw, your touch tender and caring. "Are you okay?" you ask, your voice filled with worry and tenderness. The altercation with Ryan has left its mark, but your primary concern at this moment is for Hugh's well-being.

Despite the pain and discomfort, a hint of humor laces Hugh's response. "He hits like a bitch." The comment is laced with a mix of pain and sarcasm, but there's a twinge of amusement in his voice.

With the truth now out in the open, there's no more need for secrecy or furtive meetings. The reality of the situation, however, means that you will both have to face the consequences and deal with the anger and disapproval of Ryan.

A look of bewilderment crosses your face as you ask the question directed at Hugh. "How’d he find out?" Your voice rings out, curiosity and confusion coloring each word. You hope for an explanation, for some insight into how Ryan discovered your relationship.

As Hugh scrolls through his phone, the barrage of headlines and images greets him. Tabloids and paparazzi pictures of you and him together, capturing the passionate moment when he kissed you outside your apartment building. The sheer number of articles and photos is staggering, a visual testimony to the public exposure of your relationship.

Hugh turns his phone screen towards you, revealing the plethora of tabloid headlines and images chronicling your relationship. With a mix of frustration and resignation, he remarks, "That would be my guess." The overwhelming presence of the media's attention on your private lives feels like a violation, a stark reminder of the price of being in the spotlight.

Despite the annoyance at the invasion of privacy, you can't help but smile as you look at the pictures on Hugh's phone. A small chuckle escapes your lips as you observe the images. "We are cute though," you concede, the hint of begrudging admiration evident in your voice.

A wry smile tugs at Hugh's lips as he responds to your comment, his voice filled with affectionate agreement. "Yeah, baby, we are," he chuckles, his words infused with a touch of humor and a hint of pride. The situation is far from ideal, but the undeniable chemistry and attraction between the two of you is portrayed in the pictures, a visual affirmation of your connection.

The relief of no longer having to hide your true feelings for Hugh washes over you. Although the circumstances leading to this revelation are far from ideal, there is a sense of liberation in not having to keep your relationship a secret any longer. It's a small comfort amidst the chaos and disapproval.

Hugh becomes a constant presence in your life, accompanying you to lunch dates, and dinners at restaurants, and attending your shows and rehearsals. He follows you like a devoted puppy, eager to be by your side for every moment possible. The public display of your relationship is both thrilling and nerve-wracking, with Ryan’s ever-present disapproval lingering in the air when you three are together on the set.

The excitement and determination fill the air as you arrive at the studio to record the final tracks for the album. This is the culmination of months of hard work and collaboration, and the knowledge that you are so close to completing the project is both exhilarating and nerve-wracking.

As you step into the recording booth, you feel Hugh's gaze upon you like a warm caress. His eyes are filled with a mixture of love and admiration, a look of pure adoration on his face as he watches you prepare to record the final tracks. It's as if time stands still for a moment, the connection between the two of you palpable in the room. Though you're focused on the task at hand, your heart beats with a mix of nerves and excitement. Hugh's presence outside the booth provides a sense of comfort and support, knowing that he is right there, watching and supporting you every step of the way.

As you deliver the final lyric of the last song, a wave of accomplishment washes over you. The feeling is almost overwhelming, a mixture of relief, pride, and a profound sense of having poured your heart and soul into the project. The culmination of countless hours of hard work and dedication has led to this moment, a monumental achievement that leaves you filled with a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration.

Your gaze scans the studio as you speak, a smile on your face. "I guess that's it," you say, the weight of the moment settling on your shoulders. The realization that the recording process is now complete, and the album is finally finished, fills you with a sense of both pride and accomplishment. The journey has been long and challenging, but here you stand, at the end, with a completed work of art that you can be proud of.

As you step out of the recording booth, Hugh's arms immediately encircle you in a tight embrace. His muscular frame envelopes you, pulling you close as he holds you in a protective and loving hold. Hugh's voice fills your ears, his words a chorus of praise and admiration. "You are amazing, so talented, so beautiful. I'm in awe of you," He says, his voice filled with pride and love. His words flow like a melody, each syllable laced with genuine appreciation and devotion.

Your manager and team observe the display of affection between you and Hugh, unable to suppress the smiles that spread across their faces. Megan, in particular, has witnessed your struggles and past heartbreaks, and seeing you now, embracing someone who adores you, fills her with a sense of contentment and joy.

Your manager takes the lead, laying out the plan for the album's rollout. "Right, our top priority is getting the music video for 'Please' filmed and released as soon as possible," he says, addressing the team. The focus is now shifting towards the visual aspect of the album, and getting the music video out first is crucial in generating buzz and anticipation for the upcoming release.

Your manager's gaze falls upon you as he speaks, the pen in his hand gesturing in your direction. "Ryan called me and mentioned he wanted to direct the video.” You nod in confirmation. Your mind drifts to the thought of your brother taking on the director role for the music video. As you lean back against Hugh, a mischievous smile playing on your lips, you pat his chest affectionately. "And I've got the perfect leading man right here," you say, the pride and affection for Hugh is evident in your voice. His presence, charisma, and the undeniable chemistry between you two make him the ideal choice for the role of your on-screen lover in the music video.

Hugh's eyes widen in surprise as you make the suggestion. "Me?" he repeats, a mix of disbelief and excitement in his voice. The idea of starring alongside you in the music video tantalizes him, and the thought of being the 'leading man' in your creative vision further fuels his enthusiasm. You chuckle at his surprise, your words laced with affection. "Of course. It’s about you," you remind him, a soft smile playing on your lips. The connection between the lyrics and your relationship was one of the main inspirations for the song, and having him play the lead role would make the music video even more poignant and personal.

The team members exchange approving smiles, appreciating the idea of casting Hugh as the lead. Your manager taps on his phone, getting ready to make a call. "Awesome! Let me just go ahead and give Ryan a call and get everything scheduled," he says, confirming the plan.

Your manager holds the phone to his ear, dialing Ryan's number. As Ryan picks up, your manager responds, "Hey man, just wanted to let you know that we're good to go with filming the music video for 'Please.' And guess who's gonna be the leading man?" The idea of Hugh playing the lead in the music video fills you both with excitement and anticipation. You exchange a knowing smile, visualizing the success and impact the video will have. With Hugh's acting skills and the emotional connection between the two of you, the video promises to capture the hearts of many viewers, making it a definite hit.

“Don’t go making any decisions. I’ve already called Barry. He’s happy to do it.” As Ryan responds on the line, his voice filled with annoyance and determination, your heart sinks.

The tension between the two of them has reached new heights, and Ryan's actions are intentionally meant to undermine and dismiss Hugh's importance in your life.

Your voice rings out, assertive and resolute, as you stand your ground. "It's my video, Ryan. I want Hugh to be the lead,” you state firmly, the conviction in your tone undeniable. The argument between you and Ryan plays out over the speakerphone, your determination to have Hugh in the video clashing with Ryan's opposition.

Ryan's authoritative tone, “Well I've already put the money down so you’re going to accept that Barry’s going to be the lead. Let’s shoot for Tuesday. We have a table read on Monday for DW.” The call ends abruptly, leaving you and Hugh in a mix of frustration and resignation.

Frustration and anger continue to simmer within you as the day progresses, fueled by the conversation about Ryan. You vent your feelings to Hugh, expressing your irritation with your brother's actions and insistence on having someone else lead the video. Your ranting continues, with each word laced with resentment and disappointment.

Your voice, filled with anger and a hint of sarcasm, resonates in the room as you vent your frustrations. "Who the hell does he think he is? It's my friggin' music video," you exclaim, frustrated by the situation. "He's doing this on purpose, the goddamn dickheaded dumbass," you add, tossing clothes around in your growing anger.

As you continue to angrily rant and throw clothes around in frustration, Hugh stands up from the edge of the bed. With a calm but firm demeanor, he walks over to you and gently grabs your wrists, bringing your hands down. With a soft voice, he utters, "Come here.”

Hugh's voice, calm and reassuring, cuts through your angry outburst. "You need to relax," he says, the words a gentle reminder of your frustration. He continues to guide you, leading you to the bed.

“Lay back and let me take care of you," he murmured, guiding you towards the bed.

You did as he said, your heart racing as you anticipated what was to come. You lay down, feeling the soft sheets beneath you, and watched as Hugh began to undress. He slowly removed his shirt, revealing a toned chest. His hands went to the button of his pants, undoing them slowly, teasingly, as your breath quickened.

"You like what you see, darling?" he asked, his voice husky. You could only nod, your mouth suddenly dry as your eyes took in his muscular body. Hugh stepped out of his pants, standing before you in nothing but his boxer briefs. The outline of his hardening cock was visible, making your pussy throb in anticipation.

With gentle hands, he helped you out of your clothes, taking his time to admire your body. His fingers traced the curves of your breasts, the dip of your waist, and the swell of your hips. You shivered as his touch ignited a fire within you, your skin tingling with desire.

Once you were both completely naked, Hugh positioned himself between your thighs. Leaning down, he placed a soft kiss on your inner thigh, his breath warm against your sensitive skin. You let out a soft moan, your hands clutching the sheets as you anticipated his next move.

"Such a beautiful pussy," he whispered, his hot breath sending shivers through your core. He dove between your legs, his tongue finding your clit. He licked you slowly at first, his tongue teasing your bundle of nerves. Your back arched off the bed.

Hugh continued his oral exploration, lapping at your sweet nectar as you squirmed and moaned beneath him. His tongue slid inside your pussy, tasting your essence, before flicking back up to circle your clit. He sucked and nibbled gently, driving you wild with need. Your hands tangled in his hair, guiding him closer, urging him to devour you completely.

"Mmm, you taste so fucking good," he hummed against your pussy, his voice vibrating through your core.

Your hips bucked uncontrollably as he ate you out with passion and expertise. His tongue worked your pussy relentlessly, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Your breath quickened, your moans filling the room as you neared your peak.

"Oh, Hugh... I'm... I'm gonna cum," you gasped, your body tensing up. "Let it go, baby," he urged, his fingers joining the action as he slid two digits into your dripping wet hole. "Cum all over my face."

His dirty words sent you over the edge. Your orgasm washed over you, intense and mind-blowing. You cried out, your body shaking as wave after wave of pleasure ripped through you. Hugh didn't stop, continuing to lick and suck, drawing out your orgasm until you thought you couldn't take anymore.

Finally, you collapsed back against the bed, your body spent and satisfied. Hugh slowly made his way up your body, his lips kissing a trail along your stomach and between your heaving breasts. He looked into your eyes, his face glistening with your juices, and smiled.

"Feeling better?" he asked, his voice filled with satisfaction.

You nodded, your face flushed and your body still tingling from the powerful orgasm. "Much better," you replied, your voice hoarse with desire. "I needed that."

Hugh leaned in, his lips claiming yours in a passionate kiss. You could taste yourself in his mouth, and it only added to the eroticism of the moment. His hands roamed your body, cupping your breasts and squeezing gently as his tongue danced with yours.

As you kissed, you became aware of his hard cock pressing against your thigh. It throbbed with need, and you wanted to return the favor. Breaking the kiss, you pushed him onto his back, a mischievous glint in your eye.

"Now it's my turn to take care of you," you whispered, your hands wrapping around his thick length. You stroked him slowly, enjoying the feel of his cock in your hand. Leaning down, you swirled your tongue around the head, tasting the first droplets of pre-cum that formed there. Hugh moaned, his head falling back as you took more of him into your mouth.

You sucked him greedily, your hands pumping his shaft as you took him deeper. Your lips slid up and down his length, your tongue teasing the sensitive underside. You wanted to make him feel the same pleasure he had just given you.

"Fuck, you're amazing at that," he groaned, his hands threading through your hair. You looked up at him, your eyes sparkling with lust. "You like that, huh?" you teased, stroking him faster.

"Fuck yes," he growled, his hips bucking slightly as he tried to thrust into your mouth. "Keep going, baby."

You obeyed, sucking him harder, your mouth working in unison with your hands. You deep-throated him, taking him all the way down until your nose pressed against his pubic bone. You swirled your tongue, relishing the feel of his cock throbbing in your mouth.

It wasn't long before Hugh was on the brink. His breathing quickened, and his grip on your hair tightened as he neared his climax.

"I'm gonna cum... oh God, I'm gonna cum," he warned, his hips bucking wildly.

You didn't let up, wanting to taste his release. With a final, fervent suck, you felt him explode in your mouth. Rope after rope of hot cum hit the back of your throat, and you swallowed eagerly, milking him dry.

Collapsing onto the bed beside him, you smiled, your lips still glistening with his essence. Hugh pulled you into his arms, kissing you tenderly. You snuggled into his embrace.

Your frustration and irritation toward filming with Barry come through in your words as you two lay together. "I don't want to film with Barry," you say, the annoyance clear in your tone. As you speak, Hugh's arms remain around you, providing a sense of comfort and security.

Hugh listens intently to your words, his expression empathetic and understanding. "I know you don't," he responds, his voice soft yet firm. He can sense your displeasure and disappointment, and he continues to hold you close, offering support and comfort amid your anger.

Despite your initial resistance to acting with Barry, Hugh reminds you of the positive aspects of the situation. "But you have to admit, he's a great actor," he says, acknowledging the talent of Barry. "The video will turn out great. Ryan knows what he's doing," he adds, attempting to soothe your frustration and reassure you of the potential success of the project.

As your gaze meets Hugh's, you ask in a hopeful tone, "Will you come to set?" The thought of having Hugh's presence nearby provides a sense of comfort and reassurance, and you wait anxiously for his reply. Hugh's expression softens as he gazes back at you. He can see the vulnerability and uncertainty in your eyes, and his response is gentle and affirmative. "Yeah," he says, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Of course, I'll come to set.” Regardless of whether it was a good idea or not, Hugh would be there for you.

[lumi-nescentt]

Rumour Has It

Part 3 - You're Losing Me

Pairing: Jenson Button x Reader / Mark Webber x Reader

Warnings: jealousy, arguing, swearing, mention of cheating, mention of accident and more toxic behaviour from Mark

Words: 6.9k

Summary: Friendship be damned, Jenson is done hiding his feelings for you when he knows he could make you happier. The choice you had made in 2009 suddenly seems to present itself again. It's your time to decide if you stick with it or let yourself be whisked away by the kind Brit who looks at you with nothing but adoration.

A/N: it breaks my heart a little to make Mark the bad guy but it had to be someone. Still love him outside of this silly story tho :) This was supposed to be the last part but someone asked for a part 4 so I wrote it hehe

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4

Jenson had been gone for most of the day just like usual, or at least what started to feel usual to you. He had told you he’d most likely be back for dinner but said that you didn’t have to wait for him. 

Since your conversation about your relationship with Mark, you had tried to keep yourself busy and that meant you spent a lot of time cooking. The opportunity to eat with Jenson just gave you the perfect excuse to spend even more time in the kitchen. You were so focused on getting the potato dish right that you almost missed your phone ringing. Seeing Jenson’s name on the screen, you picked up instantly.

-“ Hello love, am I bothering you ?” he asked, praying he wasn’t

You looked at the dish in the oven for a second before answering.

-“ Not at all, is everything alright ?”

-“ Nothing to worry about but the car kind of got into an accident and it’s pretty much done for so I was wondering if you could come pick me up ?” Jenson admitted with a sigh

-“ What do you mean, accident ? Are you alright ?”

-“ It was nothing bad, I just had to avoid a deer that crossed the road in front of me and the side of the road was slippery so I slid and hit a tree.”

-“ You hit a tree ?!” you almost screamed, feeling your heart race in fear

-“ I’m fine, love. You can come see for yourself if you want to pick me up or I can call for a cab if you don’t feel good to drive and I’ll see you in 30 minutes.”

-“ Just give me a second to get ready and I’ll be there, no need to call anyone else.” you blurted quickly, wanting to see him with your own eyes

-“ I’ll send you the address, okay ? Drive safely, I won’t die before you get there, I promise.” Jenson tried to joke

-“ Maybe wait a little bit before joking about it, please ?” 

-“ Sorry.”

-“ It’s okay, I’ll see you soon.” 

Right after hanging up, you grabbed your keys in a hurry and climbed into your car, driving a little faster than you normally would have. 

The drive to the address Jenson had sent you seemed to stretch on forever and when you finally pulled in front of the garage he had been waiting at, a sigh of relief left your mouth. You tried to look around for the Brit but all your eyes found was Jenson’s car or what was left of it. 

The once pristine rental car was gone and instead all you saw was a wreck. The bonnet was bent at a strange angle and one of the wheels was turned into the car. The windshield was completely cracked just like the passenger’s window which was partly shattered. 

Before you could even realise what you were doing, your car was parked and you were walking towards the remains of his car almost in a trance. You tried hard to stay calm but all you could feel was fear and tears escaped your eyes before you could stop them. Your hand came to rest on your lips, a weak try to swallow back the sobs that were making your body shake slightly. 

You were so affected by the image of the car and imagining what the crash must have been like that you didn’t even hear the sound of footsteps on the gravel before you felt a hand on your waist, making you turn away from the car.

-“ Hey love, it’s okay. I’m okay, I promise.” Jenson shushed you, wrapping his arms around you as you buried your head against his chest “ Come on let it all out, I’m here.” 

Jenson let you calm down a little before he dared to move again, caressing your hair with one of his hands until your breathing was back to normal.

-“ Can you look at me, please ?” he asked softly

-“ I’m scared.” 

-“ Why ?” 

-“ I don’t want to see you hurt.” you sniffled against his chest, gripping the back of his shirt

-“ I can assure you, what you’re imagining is way worse than what it actually is.”

-“ You promise ?” 

-“ Yes, now come on, let me see your pretty eyes, love.” he smiled as he felt you slowly step away from his embrace and raise your head “ There you go, atta girl.” 

Once you were fully looking at him, Jenson stayed silent as you inspected his face. He didn’t flinch when your hands delicately cupped his cheeks to turn his head to give you a better view of his whole face. 

You scanned every inch of his skin, your breath hitching when you came across the two cuts on his face. The smaller one was on the upper corner of his lip and didn’t look deep. It was more like a scratch than a cut. What worried you was the cut on top of his left eyebrow that looked worse. It was a bit swollen and it worried you. 

Jenson could sense you start to panic so he tried to distract you by speaking again.

-“ See ? I’m perfectly okay. I’m still as handsome as ever.” 

-“ That’s not perfectly okay, Jenson. You’re hurt. Did anyone check that ?” you questioned, pointing at the cuts

-“ I borrowed some antiseptic from the mechanic here so it’s all good.” 

-“ No it’s not.” you shook your head, taking his hand in yours before dragging him towards your car “ Come on, we’re leaving.”

-“ I’m fine, y/n.” 

-“ You were in a car accident, I don’t care if you say you’re fine. I’m taking you to get checked by a professional. I’m not asking Jenson. You can get mad or yell all you want, we’re not going back home until I know nothing’s wrong for sure.” you affirmed strongly

-“ I’m not mad at you, I just don’t want you to worry about me too much. If going to the ER reassures you, so be it.” 

-“ Really ?” 

-“ Of course. I can see that it really bothers you and if seeing a doctor is what it takes for you to feel better then I don’t see why I’d object.”

-“ Thank you, it would definitely make me feel better.” 

-“ Ok then let’s go.” he said as you started driving towards the nearest hospital

-“ Jenson ?” 

-“ Yes, love ?” 

-“ I’m glad you’re okay.”

-“ Me too.” Jenson smiled, patting your knee softly. Before he could fully pull his hand away, you linked your fingers with his over the centre console. 

Jenson didn’t say a thing, afraid to break the moment, but he couldn’t stop the smile creeping on his face or the jolts of electricity that erupted on his skin from where you were touching him. 

After an hour and a half at the ER, Jenson was finally good to go. His cuts had been cleaned and the doctor had told you exactly what was needed for them to heal correctly. Jenson had had to contain his laugh when he saw you type everything the doctor said on your phone, your brows furrowing in concentration. He found it adorable. 

You had been so focused on making sure you didn’t forget anything that you hadn’t even heard when the doctor had told Jenson he was lucky to have such a caring girlfriend. He didn’t correct him, enjoying for a second the idea of the two of you together. 

It was easy to pretend Mark wasn’t in the picture when you were sitting in the car together, Jenson making jokes constantly to try and make you laugh or smile. When he finally made you laugh for the first time since the accident he couldn’t help the wave of feelings that just took over him. 

He was still as into you as he was in 2009. He would even say that his crush had turned into something more. He had feelings for you and somehow that just made his brain short circuit and he had to open his mouth.

-“ God, you’re beautiful.” he muttered out of nowhere

-“ What ?” you asked, unsure if you had heard correctly

-“ Sorry, I didn’t really mean to say that out loud.” 

-“ Oh… Okay.” 

-“ But I do think you’re beautiful. Actually, you’re probably the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

-“ Wow, that’s–” you took a sharp breath “ really flattering, thank you.” 

-“ I would’ve told you sooner but I wasn’t sure if it was going to make you uncomfortable or not.” 

-“ It doesn’t, at least not now I think.” 

-“ Can I ask you a question ?” Jenson asked, his eyes fixated on the road in front of him

-“ Sure.” 

-“ Why did you end up picking him that night ?”

-“ What night ?”

-“ When I won. When we kissed.” 

-“ I didn’t think you remembered that.” 

-“ y/n, I had been wanting to kiss you for months. There was no chance I’d forget, no matter how drunk I was. It really meant something to me.”

-“ I suppose I was a bit insecure so I didn’t see why you’d like me and when people told me you probably didn’t mean for it to happen, it was easier to believe than you truly liking me.” 

-“ Who told you that ?” 

-“ I don’t remember…” you tried, unsure

-“ y/n, please.”

- “ Seb told me you had tried to kiss him once and Mark told me you’d probably forget since it didn’t mean anything to you.”

-“ Fucking prick ! I mean I did try to kiss Seb but only as a joke. What Mark said is complete bullshit though. I can’t believe he said that.” 

-“ I’m sorry.”

-“ Why are you apologising, love ?” 

-“ If I hadn’t been so insecure I would have saved us both a lot of trouble. You wouldn’t have been hurt by my rejection and I wouldn’t have gotten cheated on.”

-“ Don’t worry about my heart, it’s still there and that’s all that matters, alright ?” you hummed softly before he continued “ There’s nothing you could have done about what he did because no part of it is your fault. Nothing you could have done or not done can justify him cheating. You hear me ?”

-“ If you say so.” you muttered, relieved that you were finally at your house

-“ I need you to believe it.” when you didn’t react, Jenson spoke again “ Look at me, y/n.” 

-“ What ?” you whispered as you turned to face him

-“ Mark is a bloody idiot for not realising that he had the most perfect girlfriend anyone could ask for. It’s on him for doing something stupid, not on you.” 

-“ I think you think too highly of me.” 

-“ And I think you think too lowly of yourself, love.”

-“ I don’t know what I’m doing with him, Jenson.” 

-“ Give yourself some time, it’ll become clearer. Feelings don’t disappear like that, even if he hurt you.” 

-“ I hope so because I’m tired of feeling like this.”

-“ I know love, I know.”

When you finally got inside the house, you suddenly remembered the dish you had left in the oven and Jenson watched with a smile as you ran towards the kitchen and got carbonised  food out of the oven. You complained a little but soon enough, Jenson’s laugh made you crack up and all the tension accumulated during the day left your body. 

After eating takeout, you tried to convince Jenson to let you drive him for his last 2 days in England. It took a lot of talking and a few puppy eyed looks but Jenson finally caved in. With your new purpose in mind, you went to bed with a smile on your face for what felt like the first time in months.

Since you were going to drive anyway, you decided that treating yourself to a little shopping and a good restaurant would be the perfect way to spend your day while Jenson spent time with his family. With that in mind, you dressed up a little, wanting to feel good. 

Plus, Jenson had dressed up too, wearing a crisp white shirt with grey dress pants so you somehow felt like you needed to make some sort of effort.

When Jenson saw you ready to go, he didn’t keep himself from checking you out and complimenting you. He really thought you always looked good but there was something about the past few days that made you slightly glow. He thought maybe it was from being in your own element, truly at ease in your own home which was something he never got to see. 

Or maybe it was the effect of a certain British driver that had reminded you what it felt like to be wanted and to feel valued.

The drive to the reception hall where the family event took place went smoothly. The conversation between you and Jenson flew easily and it almost made you regret not spending that much time with him while you had him close. 

It seemed like your thoughts were heard by something bigger than yourself because as soon as your car pulled into the driveway, Jenson’s mother was getting out of the hall to greet her son. 

When she saw that he wasn’t alone, she insisted on you staying over with Jenson. She claimed that since you had taken the time to drive all the way there, the least she could offer to thank you was to invite you inside. 

You tried to tell the older woman that she didn’t need to do that, that you had plans and that it hadn’t  been a bother to drop off her son but she wasn’t hearing a peep. You tried to turn towards Jenson for support but you were only met with a side smile and a whispered please. You knew there was nothing else to do other than accepting so you parked the car under the watchful eyes of Jenson’s mother. 

Seeing that you were a little stressed, Jenson promised not to leave your side unless you were comfortable enough which did make you relax a tad. Ever the gentleman, Jenson held his arm out for you to take before following his mother inside. 

As soon as the two of you entered, everyone's attention snapped to you and for a second the room fell quiet before erupting in chaos again. For the next 20 minutes you were introduced to family members after family members. You couldn’t believe how many people could fit in the whole room. 

You foolishly thought you were done when Jenson guided you towards his table so the two of you could sit but the table he was guiding you towards was filled with people. You knew some of them only by name, having seen them in the paddock a few times. 

The Brit held your chair out for you under the watchful eyes of his sisters before taking the seat next to you with a reassuring smile. As soon as the two of you were settled one of his sisters, Tanya if you remembered correctly, turned towards the two of you with a smile that looked exactly like Jenson’s. 

-“ So, how long have you been dating my brother ?” 

-“ Tanya, please.” Jenson pleaded before someone else intervened

-“ Sorry about her, she’s such a gossip she tends to forget manners. I’m Samantha, it’s nice to meet you.” 

-“ Nice to meet you too, Samantha.” you smiled, relieved to escape the previous question

-“ Sam, you’ve already met her. All of you have. This is y/n, we sort of work together.” Jenson explained with a tight smile

-“ Oh but that’s just great, a little workplace romance.” Tanya spoke again, clapping her hands in delight

-“ Tanya, stop. She’s taken. She’s with Mark.” Jenson glared at her, urging her to drop the matter as the name of the Australian burnt on his tongue

However, it seemed like his sister had something entirely different in mind and there was nothing he could do about it. 

-“ Oh, she’s that y/n. The one you’ve been pining over for what, like 5 years now ?” Tanya added as you felt Jenson slump in his chair

-“ So you’ve been pining over me, huh ? Who knew ?” you teased the Brit, poking him with your elbow as the table erupted in laughter

Taking advantage of the fact that the whole table was distracted, Jenson used the moment to turn his head towards you and brush his lips against the shell of your ear as he whispered.

-“ You think you’re being so sly and so funny with your little comment but I can see you blushing, you know ?” 

Before you could think of something to answer, Jenson had moved away and acted like nothing happened. He only snuck a few glances your way, smiling proudly as he saw the slight blush on your face he knew he was the reason for. 

Once the nosy questions were shut off and all the introductions made, the attention slowly slipped away from the two of you and you were able to sit back and enjoy the flow of the conversation, adding a few comments here and there. 

It seemed like not having everyone’s attention gave Jenson a boost of confidence because right as the starter was brought, you felt Jenson’s chair slide closer to yours. You gave the Brit a questioning look but all you got in return was a flash of his boyish smile. 

Knowing you wouldn’t get another answer out of him, you slipped back into the conversation and soon enough another one of Jenson’s sisters, Natasha, was asking you about your job. The two of you fell into a passionate conversation about what motorsports journalism was and how being a woman in this industry was like for you. 

You had thought that only Natasha would be listening to you but after hearing how passionate you sounded, half of the table was now listening to you. You truly seemed in your element there and it made Jenson’s heart clench a little, his head filling with what could have been and what ifs. 

When the main course came, Jenson’s mother poured you a glass of wine. You were about to refuse, saying you had to drive, but Jenson just motioned towards his glass full of water, telling you that he could drive back to your place himself. Smiling to him, you accepted the wine.

It seemed like the more you drank, the more you started to lean towards Jenson. You weren’t drunk, not even near it but wine made you feel more at ease and it seemed like you just wanted to fall into the Brit’s embrace as time flew. 

By the time dessert was brought out, Jenson’s arm was resting on the back of your chair, his fingers lightly grazing your shoulder from time to time. 

The first time, Jenson hadn’t meant for it to happen but when you didn’t seem to flinch or push his hand away, Jenson found himself wanting to do it again. The more he did it, the more intentional the touches started to feel. After the fifth time, your hand moved towards your shoulder so it could rest on top of his. 

Jenson tried not to be startled by the touch but everyone, except you who couldn’t see his face, saw how surprised he was by the sudden contact. After his initial surprise washed away, Jenson’s face lit up and he couldn’t stop the bright smile that plastered his face or the way he sat a little taller on his chair, a little prouder. 

Like he had promised before entering the lion’s den, Jenson hadn’t left your side at all since you came in but after a meal that almost lasted two hours, Jenson finally had to use the bathroom. That obviously meant leaving you alone for a few minutes but he was sure you’d manage so with a quick squeeze of his hand on your shoulder, he dragged himself away from you. 

As soon as he was out of earshot, you could feel Tanya turning her attention back on you with a devilish smile.

-“ For someone who’s dating Mark, you sure look quite comfortable with my brother…”

-“ What can I say ? Your brother is a charming man.” you answered with a tensed smile, not wanting to talk about your relationship with Mark

-“ Isn’t Mark jealous of you two ?” 

-“ Excuse me ?” you asked, feeling your voice go a little higher

-“ I mean surely he wouldn’t be okay with seeing his girlfriend getting all cosy with someone else, especially one of his friends.” Tanya insisted as the whole table fell silent

-“ Tanya, that’s enough. This is none of your business and you’re just being rude now.” Jenson’s mother intervened, offering you a sorry smile as her daughter scoffed and escaped to the bathroom

When Jenson came back, he could sense that something had happened so he asked if you wanted to go dance with him. Glad to have an excuse to flee the half sorry, half judgmental stares you were getting, you agreed and followed him towards the dancefloor, wrapping your arms around his neck as the two of you swayed to the music.

You danced in silence for a few minutes before Jenson finally dared to ask what happened. Not wanting to cause any family drama, you refused to tell him at first but after he insisted, you finally explained what his sister had said.

-“ I’m sorry, love. If I had known she’d ambush you like that, I wouldn’t have left.”

-“ It’s okay, you needed to go to the bathroom and I’m a big girl, I can handle myself. Plus your mom actually shut her down just before you came back.” you reassured him

-“ I’m not surprised, my mom really likes you.” 

-“ I don’t know what I did to deserve it because we barely know each other but that’s really nice.” you smiled, feeling your cheeks grow pink

-“ With how often I talk about you, I’m sure she feels like she knows you quite well.”

-“ You talk to your mom about me ?”

-“ I think we’ve established that I talk about you almost just as much as I think about you, which is pretty much all the time.” he smiled honestly

-“ Are you trying to flirt with me Jenson ?” you smiled back, holding in a small laugh

-“ Maybe, is it working ?” 

-“ Keep trying, pretty boy.” you grinned as Jenson blushed from the nickname

-“ I’ll definitely do that if it means you smile at me like that and call me pretty boy again.” he whispered as your favourite song started playing

-“ Now shut up and let’s just dance, alright ?” 

-“ Yes ma’am !” Jenson laughed with his full chest at your bossiness 

It seemed like the sound got you drunk on something stronger than alcohol because as soon as the Brit stopped laughing, you locked your eyes with his and pressed your lips against his cheek, right above the corner of his mouth. Jenson stood still for a second, entirely forgetting where he was, before his face split into a warm smile and his grip around your waist tightened, pulling you closer. 

Before you knew it, it was already time to go back home. Saying goodbye to everyone individually took forever but you found out you didn’t really mind it when Jenson’s arm was securely wrapped around your waist, keeping you against him. 

The last people you said goodbye to were actually Jenson’s mom and sisters which made you tense a little. Jenson could feel you starting to slip away from his hold but he just pressed a kiss to your temple, assuring you that everything would be alright.

His mom embraced the two of you in a warm hug and kissed your cheek, making you promise to come see her again. Natasha and Samantha hugged you too, offering you sincere smiles and saying it had been a pleasure to get to know you better. Tanya just said goodbye to you at loud with a knowing look on her face as she stared at Jenson’s arm.

Contrary to how you had expected yourself to react, her stare only made you get closer to Jenson, even daring to wrap your own arm around his waist. Sensing what you were doing made Jenson look at his older sister with a smug grin before finally directing you towards the exit.

The drive back was pretty quiet, the only sound in the car being the music playing on the radio. There was something electric in the air, a tension both of you could feel. It made you feel more confident, more bold and apparently Jenson too. About halfway through the trip, you looked down as you felt Jenson’s hand rest on your thigh while his focus was still on the road in front.

His hand stayed there for the rest of the ride, his thumb occasionally stroking your leg softly. Even when he pulled into the driveway and turned down the engine, neither of you dared to move for a minute. Jenson was the first to do so, turning so he could face you. Feeling the intensity of his stare, you turned back to face him and knew exactly what was going to happen.

His body inched closer to yours over the centre console, stopping centimetres away from your face. His eyes were looking straight into yours and you were almost afraid to breathe. You dared to come a little closer, stopping millimetres away from his lips as you felt his breath fan on your lips. His hand came to cup your cheek as you both closed your eyes. 

No one moved or made a sound before you finally spoke.

-“ I– I can’t Jenson. I’m so sorry.” you whispered, resting your forehead against his

-“ It’s okay, love. There’s no need to apologise. I shouldn’t have initiated it.” 

-“ It’s not okay though. He’s been a shit boyfriend for more than a year now and I still can’t do this to him. Even though I know I deserve this.” 

-“ Feelings don’t just magically disappear y/n but they will go away at some point.” Jenson answered with a hint of sadness in his voice as he pulled away from you

-“ But that’s the thing, I don’t think I have feelings for him anymore. Or at least what I feel for him is not love anymore, it’s so far from it.” 

-“ Then what’s stopping you ?” the Brit whispered, hating how hopeful and desperate he sounded in that moment

-“ We’re technically still dating. I don’t want to stoop to his level or else how could I dare to be angry and resent him for what he’s done. No matter how much he hurt me, I don’t want to do the same thing to him.” 

-“ God, you’re an amazing person, you know that ? There’s so many people who wouldn’t have hesitated to get back at him.” 

-“ I think amazing is pushing it but thank you.” 

-“ y/n ?” 

-“ Yes ?” 

-“ If you end up leaving him and once you’re ready, would you be interested in going on a date with me ?” 

-“ Ask me again when I’m single and you’ll get an answer, pretty boy.” you smiled, kissing his cheek before finally getting out of the car. 

The last day you spent together was full of stolen glances and quick touches that held a new meaning now. You didn’t know when you’d get the courage to break up with Mark but you knew that once you’d get out of this, something better could be waiting for you and that was enough to keep you holding on for now. 

The goodbyes at the airport had been harder than you expected. Despite seeing him in around a week, you both knew you wouldn’t be able to reach this level of intimacy and privacy anytime soon and that was something you couldn’t ignore. 

On top of that, you couldn’t really hug him properly or kiss him on the cheek if you didn’t want to risk being recognised so you had to settle for a quick side hug and a wave before you eventually had to go back to your now empty home. 

The days you spent on your own before Mark came back flew by and before you could properly think of what you were going to do about your relationship, the Australian was back. 

From the moment the door to your house slammed, you knew something was wrong. Mark’s steps were heavy and you could sense the anger emanating from his body despite being in another room. 

You knew that whatever it was that made him feel this way, Mark would find a reason to lash out on you again and that would lead to another heavy argument. You were tired of it even before it actually started so instead of waiting in your room until you inevitably had to face him like you usually did, you decided to get it over with immediately.

You slowly made your way to the living room where Mark was slumped on the couch, a hand over his eyes. 

-“ Hey, did you have a nice trip ?” you asked, wanting to test the waters before actually diving into the heavy subjects

-“ Yes.” he dryly answered without looking your way

-“ Do you want to eat something particular tonight ? I have to pop to the shops anyway.” 

-“ I can make my own food, y/n.”

-“ I know you can, I was just trying to be nice but I see how it is.” you sighed, turning away from him

-“ Don’t play nice when I’m here if the second I leave you’re going to stab me in the back.” Mark snarled, finally removing his hand from his face to glare at you

-“ What are you talking about ?” 

-“ You know damn well what I’m talking about so stop acting all innocent. At least have the balls to own up to your shit.” 

-“ I’m not in the mood to play guessing games, Mark, so either spit it out or let it go because I’m not dealing with you if you’re behaving like this.” 

-“ Dealing with me ? You’re the one who came to talk to me, not the other way around.” 

-“ Yes because I could feel your foul mood from upstairs the second you came home.” you snapped back

-“ And whose fault is that, huh ?” 

-“ We haven’t seen each other in weeks Mark, I don’t see how I could have had an effect on your mood from that far away.” 

-“ I don’t know, maybe because you’ve gotten quite cosy with Jenson and lied to me about it for months when I asked you if you were into him.” he spat, his face distorting with anger

-“ I haven’t lied to you for months, don’t make me into something I’m not.” 

-“ What are you not ? A liar, a cheater, a whore or all of those ?” he growled, his face dropping in shock at his own words

-“ What did you just call me ?” you whispered, feeling tears pricking your eyes out of anger and hurt

-“ You heard me sweetheart, don’t make me repeat it. It won’t end well for either of us if I do.”

His words hit you like a cold shower and you suddenly felt a laugh of disbelief bubbling in your chest before you let it out. 

-“ That is so rich coming from you, Mark. God, I’m so stupid.” 

-“ You think this is funny ?” the Australian asked, getting even angrier

-“ I think it’s hilarious how you’re acting like I’m the devil incarnate and you’re the victim in this.” 

-“ Because I’m not the one who’s in the wrong here.” 

-“ Are you sure of that ?” you let the question hang in the air as Mark stayed silent “ Correct me if I’m wrong but I seem to remember quite clearly a beautiful day in Australia where you shoved your tongue into someone else's mouth.” 

-“ I–”

-“ Who’s the cheater, now ?” 

-“ Don’t twist this around, we’re not talking about me here. We’re talking about you and Jenson.”

-“ Oh you don’t want to talk about it ? But you seemed so eager to talk about me…” you teased him as you pouted “ You know what’s funny, Mark ? Leanne tried to confront you about it when we found out and I convinced her not to because I naively thought I could still save us but I don’t think I want to anymore. I deserve so much better than this.”

-“ Leanne knows ?” he asked, the colours draining from his face

-“ She was the one who had the idea to follow you so we could know where you’d been going all these times.” 

-“ You’re lying.” 

-“ You want to call her and ask her yourself ?” you dared him

-“ It’s not the same anyway. Jenson is my friend. The both of you stabbed me in the back because you two can’t keep it in your pants.” 

-“ You’re unbelievable, I just told you I knew that you cheated on me and instead of at least apologising, you still blame me for something that never even happened.” 

-“ You kissed his cheek, y/n. I saw a picture of it. The two of you were at some sort of wedding and you seemed pretty cosy with each other.” 

-“ I don’t see why I’d have to explain to you but for your information, the kiss on the cheek is all it was. Nothing else. So before you come into my home and insult me, maybe you should put your own house in order.” 

Mark just scoffed, not finding anything smart to retorque. 

-“ You know what ? I think we’re done here. I’m tired of this whole thing, I’m tired of arguing with you and you’ve got no right belittling me like that when you’ve been nothing but awful to me for the past months.” 

-“ So that’s it then ? You’re leaving, just like that ?” 

-“ Yes, Mark. I’m leaving someone who had the nerve to cheat on me and then accuse me of cheating. I’m leaving someone who doesn’t trust me in the slightest or has any feelings for me other than resentment.” you sighed, leaving the room to go pack your suitcase that was almost done for work anyway

It didn’t take you more than 30 minutes to pack anything that you could need in the time you’d be away. When you went down with your suitcase and a backpack, ready to leave the house you had shared for years, Mark stood up from where he had been sitting on the couch and he looked at you with puffy eyes. 

-“ Can we talk ?” 

-“ I think we’ve talked enough, Mark.” you stated, matter of factly

-“ Don’t go. I’m begging you, y/n, don’t leave me.”  he pleaded, his voice breaking up

-“ Don’t make this harder than it already is. I’ll come pick up the rest of my things once I come back from Abu Dhabi.” 

-“ What am I going to do here without you ? This is our house, the house I wanted us to grow old in. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’ve been awful to you.” he muttered

 -“ I have to leave Mark, I can’t keep on living like this. I thought what we had could be saved but it’s too late. We’re not good together anymore.” 

-“ I’m sorry…”

-“ I know.” 

-“ Goodbye, y/n.”

-“ Goodbye, Mark.”

Before your resolution faltered at the sight of the Australian in tears in what had once been your happy place, you closed the door behind you and went to your car without looking back. 

You drove without a real plan, only knowing that you had to leave. After driving around for what felt like hours, you found yourself at the airport with no other idea than going to Abu Dhabi two days earlier than you were meant to. 

You hopped on the first flight you could and 7 hours later, you had landed. It was just past midnight and you had no plan on where you would be sleeping. Even if you had, the reality of what had happened started catching up to you and you couldn’t help the wave of sadness that hit you suddenly. 

You knew there was probably another solution but right now all you wanted was to see a familiar and comforting face so you pulled out your phone and called Jenson. The phone rang a few times and you were about to hang up when the Brit picked up.

-“ y/n ?” he asked, his voice still obviously laced with sleep

-“ I shouldn’t have called, I’m sorry Jenson.” you mumbled, sniffling quietly

-“ Are you crying ?” 

-“ I’m okay, just a little shaken up. Don’t worry.”

-“ What did he do ?” 

-“ It doesn’t matter anymore.”

-“ What’s going on ? You’re scaring me a little, love.”

-“ I did it, I left him.” 

-“ Are you okay ?” Jenson asked, trying not to feel too happy about it when you clearly weren’t alright

-“ As okay as someone in a foreign country with no plans can be, I suppose.” you tried to joke

-“ Where are you right now ?” 

-“ At the airport.” 

-“ In Abu Dhabi ?” 

-“ Yes.” 

-“ I’ll be there soon, don’t go anywhere okay ?”

Before you had the chance to answer, Jenson had already hung up. 30 minutes later, the Brit was in front of you, hugging you so tight you were afraid you’d run out of air. Before climbing back into the car, Jenson cupped your face between his hands and inspected your face with attention, making sure you were fine. 

The little smile you gave him seemed to make him relax a little but he still refused to let go of you so you spent the whole drive to his hotel with his hand wrapped tightly around yours. He only let go of you when you entered his hotel room. 

You started to move towards your suitcase to open it but Jenson stopped you, shoving one of his t-shirts in your hands and motioning for you to go change in the bathroom. When you came back out in his clothes, Jenson had made a bed out of the extra covers right next to the bed.

You went to lie down on the makeshift bed but Jenson glared at you with a smile, taking you hand and guiding you towards the bed. You didn’t get the chance to protest before he wrapped the blanket around you and turned the lights off, promising you to talk in the morning if you wanted to. 

The sound of Jenson’s soft snores soon filled the room as you lied wide awake in this foreign bed that smelled just like Jenson. You tried to think about anything else, to focus on Jenson’s breathing but all you could see when you closed your eyes were Mark’s teary eyes as you had left. 

You let the sadness wash over you as you sobbed as quietly as you could in the pillow. As quiet as you were, Jenson woke up and was by your side in seconds, rubbing a hand up and down your back as he sat on the corner of the bed. Before you could stop yourself, your arms wrapped around his shoulders and you buried your head in the crook of his neck, holding onto him as you cried. Seeing you this wrecked made Jenson’s heart clench as he protectively wrapped his arms around you, returning the hold as he settled next to you on the bed. 

When your crying finally stopped, you finally fell asleep and Jenson didn’t dare to move, afraid he would wake you up. The next morning, the two of you were still wrapped into each other when you finally told him about your last argument with Mark. 

Jenson didn’t say anything, just nodding from time to time and humming along when you needed confirmation that how you had reacted was totally normal and valid. Once you were done, he didn’t say much other than he was proud of you and that he thought you were really strong.

The weight of his words settled on you and suddenly everything Mark had said seemed to hold less meaning. You were still not entirely over that relationship but you desperately wanted to move on and Jenson was right here, holding you and comforting you after years of having to see you with one of his closest friends. 

The moment just seemed right and you slowly looked up at him, watching his face carefully as your hand came to rest behind his neck, slowly bringing him closer to you. When your faces were only inches apart, you looked at him again, asking for permission silently.

Jenson barely nodded before you closed the gap between the two of you and pressed your lips onto his. The kiss was full of affection, the two of you carefully finding each other again after getting lost for years. 

Jenson seemed afraid that the kiss would break you while you needed the kiss to help you heal, to help you find yourself again. After a few seconds, the Brit seemed to understand how important this was to you and he kissed back with just as much passion, letting himself get lost in the feeling of years of admiring you from afar, years of loving you. 

You were still far from okay and only time could help now but having Jenson next to you was something you were now sure you wanted, almost needed now. The Brit was more than happy to stay close to you until you figured it all out, until you were finally ready to be with him, no matter how long that took. After all, he had already waited 6 years for you, he’d gladly wait some more if he knew you’d be his at the end of the road. 

[freshlyrage]

Running Like Water

Chapter 28

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 5.1k

IMPORTANT a/n: Hello! This chapter is all flashbacks!

Next chapter things start to pick up. I will still be loosely following the plot of Narcos but not the exact timeline for times sake. Would just feel cruel keeping the babies apart for five more chapters! I hope this doesn't hinder anyones reading experience.

Send asks! Enjoy

Summer 1986

There is a heat wave and you find it as a personal punishment.

You stand in the middle of your empty room and feel nothing. You see the wallpaper lifting, small drawings you made when you were a child and you see dust untouched and you feel not much.

You’re in a dress.

One you hate, but you let your mother have some control for one last time. Baby blue with off white stripes, ruffling at your neckline. Blue little heels leaving an indent in your vacuumed rug. You bought that van you passed on your way to work with the black and red for sale sign.

Packed all your belongings and held a tag sale on all your furniture. 

It wasn’t common in your culture what you planned on doing. You family is meant to be by your side forever. You don't leave.

Up and leaving like spoiled Americans, that's the way your mother saw it. She kept her thoughts to herself but you heard her on the phone with her friend.

Ranting in Spanish about your ungrateful ass. That you were given the world, you had a roof, you had a bed, and look what you give in return.

The truth is, if the endless cycle of familial guilt didn’t exist in immigrant households everyone would grow some balls and leave behind those who mistreated you– even if they were family. 

You see your mother and you see someone who wanted to leave parents that never seemed to care for her either. You see her as a young woman determined to build her own life. If they hadn’t died she’d still be in Florida in their basement hoping one day they’ll care to show love to their daughter. The cycle continues. You suppose you’re breaking it, or maybe creating a new one–who’s to say.

You’ll ask your kids when they're in their twenties.

Your mother lived for approval. It’s why she spent hours on the phone with random “friends” who acted as yes men while she described all her flaws and missteps without shame. They will tell her how she is so strong and doesn’t deserve a spoiled brat like you.

An overgrown popular girl. Your mother was.

She scurries to the feet of the Smithfield's to help with their wedding. In an attempt of kindness, she’s never been very good at this, she promises not to be so involved in the wedding considering it– "makes you all depressed.”

You looked at her with a squint but decided to nod, reminding yourself that soon you’ll be gone. You planned on sleeping in the morning of the wedding. To which that idea died when your mother frantically barged into your nearly empty room. 

“The air conditioning in their church is out! We have to move services outside. I have to get it set up.” And then she slams the door and bolts. You shut your eyes tighter and let out a scream that was actually quite liberating for 30 seconds until you were reminded that your step father was still in bed with the baby.

You pretended to be asleep when he banged on your door as a warning. You eventually do doze off and find yourself waking up numb in more ways than one at 1:30 pm. 

You told yourself that you will only attend the ceremony. You knew if you stayed for the reception you might throw down one too many mimosas and end up vomiting on Lorraine and crying for Javier.

So… yeah no.

You dress up, paint your face like a fraud and you can’t cry so there's that scary truth. You were floating, finding yourself nowhere in the middle of your empty room. So that’s when you find yourself giving your room one last look for a little while. In the dress your mom bought. Rugged floor with a mattress splayed in the middle and nothing else but cobwebs and wall drawings. You don’t dwell, you don’t think but your nails are picking at each other and you’re so scared to be alone again. 

You leave and load your new truck stuffed with your entire life and drive to church. 

You think of making the wrong turn at every light, because you could just leave for good now. Save yourself from reality.

Javier and his father spent a few nights the past week having hard conversations. They smashed down cases of beer and Javier attempted to absorb all of the golden stories his father had to offer. 

Ultimately Javier wanted to know what he felt when his mother was pregnant. 

He said to him that he felt this pull towards her, Flaca.

Despite their rocky relationship it was like her hormones and his existed as one and all they could ever think about is how they were going to be having their own little family.

Chucho says that it’s common amongst new fathers to feel guilt when they take any small glance at their partner. Because what a task it is to grow a person inside of you. He says it isn’t the typical feeling you get when someone you know is pregnant. It isn’t just a, let me be nice to her she’s with child. No, Chucho had the urge to worship the ground she walked on, thank her—he said if she was craving pickles at 2 am he’d go out and buy some. He said this pull was biological, there was no explanation for it. 

Javier wonders when he’ll begin to feel that. At all.  

“Can I be honest with you?” Frankie flattens the lapels of his tux in Javier’s poorly decorated room. Javier flicks ash in his tray, he was beyond grateful that the heat wave hadn’t fucked with the power at his dad’s ranch. If it had, the heat might have triggered him at the wrong moment and he’d be running on foot away from the altar.

That’s just the sort of mood he was in.

He was almost looking for an excuse to not get married today, to give him some time so he can find a way out while also still obtaining the right to see his child grow. 

Lorraine slept in his bed all week, Javier slept in the living room most nights. It was two nights ago when he slept in the same bed as her. He had snuck into the room for his new pack of reds he left in his jacket late at night when he heard her crying. They talked about their fears, or he explained his anxieties and guilt and she stayed silent. He dozed off with a small bump below his hand and a promise of being a good father.

He thought it was you next to him and woke up in a cold sweat. 

Today he woke up numb. Chucho had been silent and to himself ever since Lorraine made her place in the home. Chucho was going through his own grief in ways, he was losing his son all over again. He was losing you too and soon he would be completely alone like he was when Javi was in Houston and you were in college. Javier supposes he’s also angry at his irresponsibility. Just a month ago they were knee deep in dirt and Chucho begged him not to hurt you again. 

Javier’s father left the house early to help with setting up the small wedding. Lorraine was at her parents place getting ready with her mother and Javier was here, at home with Frankie.

Javier was stalling a bit, he got the call that Lorraine was already on the road and Javier hadn’t even perfected his tie yet. He shoots a glance at Frankie. “I feel like you’re always honest, even if you’re being a fucking dick.” Javier mutters, pulling his tie over his shoulders. Multitasking, taking a drag with one hand and assembling his tie with the other. Frankie chuckles. 

“When you asked me to be your best man a few days ago I thought about punching you.” He shrugs, swiping his curls out his face and sipping the beer at Javier’s nightstand. Javier frowns because he knows this isn’t just a little joke amongst friends. “And listen, you were dealt some shitty cards, this whole situation is fucked up. Luckily the impending doom of fatherhood has made me soft and I know you probably need me to be your friend right now– and I will but just know it’s really hard.”

Javi looks at the ground, he can't look your brother in the eye. He felt like he did last Thursday when he saw you in 7-11, when you looked at him and pretended he didn’t exist.

He knew it was really over, and he felt like nothing.

“I wanted to marry your sister.”

“I know.” 

Javi looks up at Frankie and find him looking away. They were best friends but their vulnerability never stretched beyond reflecting on their childhood. This was new and they couldn’t look each other in the eye. “Before… all of this. Me and Andrea planned on telling you about us.”

“Hmph.” He clenches his jaw.

“Would you have… been okay with it?”

It's silent again, just the distant white noise of his clunky AC.

“Yeah. I was angry when you first came home and honestly still upset until recently about how you left her. But my priorities shifted so I guess I would have been grossed out but ultimately happy that you know… finally.”

Javi chuckles, “Yeah… finally.” It all could've been so simple. "She would be better off without me. I'm glad she's making this move." Javi mutters.

Frankie doesn't agree but his silence is enough answer. “I don’t like Lorraine very much. But I’m about to be a dad, you're about to be a dad. I feel like this was an opportunity to be a better friend to you. I hope that our kids become best friends so I feel like you know… I gotta be here now to make that happen.”

There was the silver lining in all of this.

 The promise of a family. Even if the family was just Javier and his child. That could be enough, it was enough for his father. Javier grins at Frankie and he grins back. 

“She’s probably waiting at the altar. Let's go.” Javi jokes and adjusts his tie. Frankie gets to his feet and points to the ceiling and looks up with it.  

“Padre ruega por nosotros.”

“Thank god you’re here. They’re running so late. Lorraine is cursing up a storm inside.” 

Genie grabs your arm and pulls you into the makeshift ceremony set up. You’ll give it to your mom, she did a decent job making this look alright. The guests weren’t seated, instead they were gossiping in small groups. It was far too hot to have a wedding outdoors. You scan and realize this wasn’t the modest little wedding that was on the invitation. 

Surprise! We’re getting married at Laredo Baptist on June 21st . 

It was handwritten and left on your counter by your mother last week. You would be surprised that so many people showed up in such short notice but it’s Laredo, and it’s the preacher's daughter getting married to Laredos DEA prodigy. There were so many people from your high school you swear you could faint. 

“Isn’t the ceremony scheduled to start in 3 minutes.” You rushed out of your truck when you saw the time on your stereo. The last thing you wanted to do was walk in late when Javier’s saying his vows or what not. 

Vows.

Why am I here? 

Genie nodded in annoyance, “Sit down on the third row next to my purse. Your mom was in shambles arguing with Chucho inside about Javier’s tardiness. I’m going back to that.”

“Do you want me to come with-“ You don’t know why you asked, it would be mental warfare for you. Your mother rowdy and Lorraine cranky. It’s like your least favorite people in one room, dumb idea. Genie knew it too and just squeezed your shoulder and walked back towards the church. You watch her go with a sigh and make your way to your seat. 

The hair on the nape of your neck sticking to you like glue. You missed the seventies, you missed when the dresses your mother bought you were flowy— not stiff and hot and ruffly. It was a sensory nightmare on top of the fact this whole thing was a nightmare-nightmare.

If anyone knew your situation besides your lovely sister in law, they’d smack you upside the head and force you leave because good. Lord, was this stupid. You wondered every six minutes of today why in the world you were doing this to yourself. It wasn’t as if the situation alone made you forget what it felt like to be happy. 

But there comes that sliver, the tiny line of delusion that has you believing that this is all real.

 That it’s a hoax, that the cameras are rolling and they’ll be revealed soon. So maybe you’re at the wedding in hopes of the camera crew to come out with a surprise before the I do’s. It’s healthier to say that you’re here because watching it happen will officially end a chapter about the thing you once thought was meant to be the premise of the whole book. 

Two rows behind you, you could hear the chatter. 

“I don’t get it. He’s been home for two months without her. Now all of sudden he’s getting married. It’s fishy.”

“Exactly! It seems like a shotgun wedding. Lorraine Smithfield would never get married in a such a disorganized manner if this wasn’t obviously some front.”

“Not to start anything but I swear I saw Javier kiss Andrea outside that party Xavi threw for memorial day.”

“Andrea? Like Frankie Diaz’s little sister?”

“Yes! I heard that they hooked up in high school. I always thought they would bang.”

“Javier hooked up with everyone in high school.”

“Nah. This was different. I think he was dating Lorraine when they did. Super sneaky because Lorri and Andrea were buddies.”

“I don’t think so. I know Andrea, she's shy, she doesn’t peg me as a homewrecker.”

“Eh I guess. I don’t know, regardless it’s too bad for her. I remember she had the craziest crush on him, now she’s watching him get married.”

“Tragic.”

“Speaking of, why is he so late?”

Lorraine didn’t feel like Chuchos beat up truck was an appropriate ride to roll in for their wedding so she left him her car. Frankie loaded into the passenger's seat all fidgety and nervous. Javier still had been on a rare mental high of picturing holding his child for the first time. Frankie really brought it out of him and despite dreading getting married—he saw the slightest glimpse of hope. 

But ultimately he knows at the end of the his short ride will be an altar, and you in the stands. It was his worst nightmare. He knows married life with Lorraine will be unpleasant. Just dating life with her left him a bit scarred. Tantrums and shattered plates. Holding her wrists so she couldn’t claw at him in a fit of anger. He tried to understand her, he really did.

She told him about her parents cheating on each other constantly. The yelling and constant fighting. Mrs. Smithfield was an explosive partner, Lorraine took after her he supposes. 

They were the classic case of town socialites. Pristine and prim and perfect to everyone else. Behind closed doors, toxic and unhealthy. She told him all of it after one of her blow ups over him working later than usual. In hopes to excuse her actions. He listened, still he grew more and more resentful of their relationship with every argument that ended in him consoling him. He found it difficult to empathize with her. You can only be so awful so many times, only a few times could be excused by trauma. 

Javier rolled his tongue on the side of his mouth, clenched his jaw and held the steering wheel tightly as he inched out of the driveway. Driving as slow as he could, he needed more time. Frankie was fidgety, the same way he was two weeks ago when he was getting married. He was rambling the same, Javier tried his best to keep it together. The air on Lorraines car was shit. The suit was thick, and itchy and a bit too big. He didn’t have time to be tailored. 

Didn't have time to be tailored. How fucked was that.��

His eyes had bags and he wasn’t smiling. His chest was tight every second, it loosened at the thought of being a father. He still almost had that. He was close to telling Frankie to shut the fuck up. He was so deep in his own ramblings he hadn’t noticed that Javier purposefully drove in a loop, finding the courage to make the left on main street. 

“You know maybe it isn’t all that bad. You two aren't doing vows, service should be quick.” Frankie drummed his fingers along the dash. Wiping sweat from his brow and settling back into the car seat. 

Javi mumbled in blind agreement. 

“It’ll be nice, me and you with baby carriers. Women love that shit, not that I’m interested but you know for you.”

“I’m literally about to get married.” Javi deadpanned. 

“Well, you know it’s not like traditional. Or maybe it's very traditional, most marriages around here are arranged in a way you know? Like preordained. Half of the married people here are with the only person their parents let them around growing up. Always a family friend, or a high school sweetheart. Not me, I found my wife. She rejected me a few times but you know I found her.” He gleams and Javier can’t imagine feeling the same way he does. Maybe he was familiar, but he isn’t anymore.

Javi shoots him a side glance. “Genevieve was your high school sweetheart though.”           

“I guess. We broke up like ten times though so we both had our fun. We lived before we settled. I’m happy she took me back that last time. I wouldn’t want a family with anyone else.”

How lucky, Javier is tempted to verbalize but he keeps it to himself. “Hm.” Javi circles the street one more time. 

“If you’re going to keep stalling we might as well…” Frankie reaches into his jacket pulling out a zip lock baggie with a perfectly rolled joint. He noticed then, Javier wasn’t sure if he should feel embarrassed or not for being so shameless in his anxiety. Javi chuckles and nods in approval. “Lighter?” 

He shrugged, “Never been in this car, check here.” He leans over, tapping the glove compartment and straightening up. “You think they're going to kill us for being fifteen minutes late.”

Frankie shrugged, tucking his hand on the handle and opening the thing. A yellow lighter and three papers fall out. Two white with black type on it, and one little black square. A sonogram. Javier smiles at the sight, it seems a bit different from the picture Lorraine let him have. The baby seemed smaller, it must have been an earlier appointment. Far before she came back to Laredo. Frankie seems to not care, he was zeroed in on that lighter. “Clean that shit up man.” Frankie chuckles, grabbing the papers. 

He smiles at the sonogram. “Little guy. This shit is crazy. Lorraine Smithfield, June 6th 1986 12 weeks pregnant. Who would have thought?” Frankie chuckles, losing the doctor's note back in the compartment. Oblivious to Javier's silence, he flicks the lighter on. His brows furrow at the stoplight and make the left to take him right back to the house. His chest tight, and jaw tight. Frankie turns his head. “You alright.”

Javier blinks, once, twice. He holds the third time, the tips of his ears hot. Knuckles white. Frankie catches on, and in a panic grabs the paper again. Flipping to the second page, another note, from another appointment. And from Frankies, quiet, You’ve got to be fucking with me, the time was confirmed.

 Javier closes his eyes again, sees your face, feels the blistering heat. 

He turns his car around.

The chatter is unbearable. The people are getting antsy and the sun is getting hotter, somehow. Your dress is itchier, you’ve scratched your thigh about twenty six times. A nervous tick, you dig your heels in the grass. Dirt surfacing at your fidget.

He’s nearly half an hour late now. You’ve listened to your ex classmates gossip for far too long, you’ve been tempted to turn around and make your presence known for minutes now. Mr. Smithfield came out ten minutes ago blaming the wait on a wardrobe malfunction which earned laughs from everyone but you.

You read straight through the lie. 

You were about to reach for your twenty seventh scratch when a cold hand grips your shoulder. You turn your head and flinch at your mothers closeness. “We need you inside. Now.” She doesn’t give you a moment to think. She's taking your hand and making heads turn while she drags you to the front of the church. Your eyes struggle to adjust to the dark surroundings of the powerless cathedral. It's loud inside, Spanish and English overlapping. Arguing, yelling, crying. 

You drop your mothers hand and stride toward the noise. Afraid, and confused. Your heels tap against the polished floor. And your mother scurries behind you as you turn the corner and find the scene. Chucho cursing in his mother tongue. Lorraine crying, holding her stomach and Genie yelling at Mrs. Smithfield.

You blink, once, twice and wave your hands. “Woah– What's going on?!” You shake your head. Placing your purse on the ground. Lorraine looks up at you and breaks into more tears. Her mascara ran down her blushed cheeks. Her dress poofing beside her on the pew. Her father held her shoulder, with his nose pinched. Your mother is holding your arm. You shake her off. You silence the room with your presence. 

Genie turns to you fully, her cheeks red from anger. “He’s not the father.”

You don't register what she means. You stare blankly at her for a moment. You look at each of the people in the room, and it hits you.

It hits you and you take a step back like it was a physical threat. Your eyes flick to Lorraine and she's looking at you with eyes like an apology.

“I thought– I thought it would fix us– I”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” It has your head spinning, it echoes off the walls, felt like it could rattle the stained glass windows. For a moment you're unsure who it came from. You have never heard Chucho raise his voice and it strikes you. It blurs for you. 

“Do not cuss at my daughter. It was what we felt was best for her situation.” Mrs. Smithfield strokes Lorriane's hair and she leans her forehead to her mothers stomach. Chucho shakes his head and removes his hat. He holds it over his chest, with a face of absolute devastation. He takes one look at you and walks away from the scene. 

You swear you hear him rip a sob as he walks away. Torn from head to toe at the pain his son must be feeling. You want to forget the sound of the strongest person in your life crumbling.

But you– you- you're angry. You close your eyes and breathe slowly, shake your mothers grip away. You hear Genie take some steps towards you and you accept her hold. You feel anger burning so bright, the reflection in your sockets burn orange. 

Calmly, you ask, “Could someone please tell me what's going on.” 

Genevieve is angry too, she jumps to it. “She’s been lying– she knew it wasn’t Javi’s he–” She takes a deep breath. “I can't believe I called you a friend.” Genie cuts straight through Lorraine and she racks another chest heaving sob. Genie rolls her eyes and moves to stand in front of you. Blocking a view of Lorraine.

She walks you around the corner and away from the family entirely. It’s just the two of you at the entrance of the church.  “Frankie called me. He found notes from her most recent appointment. The timeline doesn’t add up– Javi– he– He’s so hurt. He’s not coming. Frankie’s on his way, he doesn’t want to be around anyone.”

Your chin quivers and you're embarrassed by it. You do not want to cry in front of her. 

“He shouldn't be alone.” You frown, lip trembling. “He shouldn’t, I have to go– I can't believe this.” You nearly take a step but she grabs you again. 

“No– No. Chucho will go see him. Her parents knew– they were trying to save their image because she doesn’t know the father. And she–she believed this could fix them. She planned on getting back with him before she even knew she was pregnant. She’s only three months along, Andrea… I– I’m sick to my stomach.” Tears form at the corners of her eyes and she holds her own stomach. You hold her this time, rubbing her arms. You weren't sure if you were trying to soothe yourself or her. Maybe the latter.  

“Hey, hey, take it easy for her.” You join her hand on her stomach and she breathes steadier at that. You stay like this for a moment, grounding her while you float. While your heart is filled with pure rage. While you think of how upset he must be, how many irreversible changes you’ve made to your life because of this situation– this hoax– I have to see him. I have to tell him I love him, that I’ll break my lease. I’ll lose all the money I threw away to run away from him. I will be there, tell him it was never his fault. That I will never be angry with him.

“Please…” You whisper, “Please I–” You’re cut off by Lorraines audible sobs and fuck it, you’ve had enough. You let Genie go and she watches your face contort in genuine discontent. You shake your head and you begin to walk away.

“Andrea!” Genie calls for you but strut right back into the nave. Lorraine looks up at you and all you see is self pity. 

You reach down to grab your purse and you tuck it under your arm. You hold your chin up high and there are no tears.

 “You are an evil person. I spent years feeling guilty about my crush on Javier- feeling guilty because you were so kind to me to my face. But really Lorraine, you're just a mean girl. I would never wish anything bad upon you. Living the rest of your life as yourself is enough karma.” Her nostrils flare and she deserves all of this. Being left in tears at the altar. You hope to god that Javier never speaks to her again. That she repeats this day in her head forever. Without closure. You look to her parents who seem to be praying. Eyes closed, holding her shoulders. You take a step forward and slam your hand against the pew. It echoes loudly and they snap from their performance and look at you. “Pray harder, all three of you are going to hell.” 

You turn at their gasps and walk back into the atrium where your mother is sat at the stairs to the basement with a frown. Genie is still in the same spot, rubbing her stomach. You dig in your purse for your car keys. You almost forget that your entire life is packed in that thing right now.

“I’ll call you later. I have to go make sure he’s alright.” You wave to your mother and begin to walk when you hear Genie call your name. 

“He asked not to see you.” It rings around the halls of the church. Echoing, a satisfying sound to no ones ears but Lorraines. Your heart dips low.

“What?” But you aren’t sure you heard correctly. 

Genie looks at her shoes and begins to cry. “I don't know Andrea– he- he said to not let you in the house. He can't– he doesn't want to see you.” Your breathing hitches and your eyes gloss over.

“What do you mean I–”

The church doors open and your body whips around to face your brother.

He had been crying too, he looks at the car keys in your hands and back up at your tear stained face. And he knows.

“You can’t go. He– he doesn’t want to get in the way– not again.”

And fuck it, you're bawling in the middle of your childhood church. “Get in the way of what?”

“He knows you're leaving, he knows you signed the lease. He knows you got a job in New Orleans.”

Shaking your head again you try to walk past your brother but he steps in front of you again. “Frankie–please just move. I– I’m not changing my whole plan– I just need to see him.” You move your way around him and near the door when he calls out once more.

“He knows that isn’t true. He told me. He knows nena. He knows if you see him again you will never leave. He knows you’ll give up all your plans for him. He does not want to see you.”

He's speaking to the back of your head and for a moment you pause. Each word hit like slices. You, an open wound in front of everyone.

Soaking it all in. Feeling everything and nothing all at once. 

You open the church door and step back into the sunlight. Looking at the grass full of people still waiting on a wedding that was never going to happen.

Every step you take, you nearly trip, you quicken your pace once you see your packed car. Your eyes so full of hot tears you can barely stick you key properly. Cussing at yourself between tears until you can figure it out. You're not sure how long you cry in your car but you cry long enough for people to start leaving the wedding.

You lay your head on the wheel for most of it, afraid to be caught by onlookers. Your chest rips in stomach churning sobs. You know he’s right, you know you'll leave it all for him. You were ready to be nothing and no one together. Hold him until he’s had enough, until Colombia. Revert to your original plan of just… you and him and the summer. Just us. And if you did, it would hurt all just the same.

Your head hurts less.

Your eyes dry.

Your dress discarded in the passenger's seat, changed into a t-shirt and shorts.

Milk shake in your cup holder, eyes still puffy.

Chest tight but the sun sets and you think you’ll just cry more when you get there. 

You drive to New Orleans and don't look back.

[hard-times-paramore]

Drive (2011) - An Autistic Reading

Have you guys ever watched this movie with Ryan Gosling? Did you know he's literally me. Hello, fellas, today I am going to talk about why I think Guy From Drive, the Protagonist of Drive, has this thang called autism.

Everything you see here is headcanon. It wasn't intentional on the movie's part. In fact, I know it and find it hilarious. Every writing choice in this movie that led it to be critically acclaimed as a sigma male film bro has only pushed this guy further into The Spectrum. Let's take a look at them.

The Jacket

You can't talk about Drive without bringing up Ryan Gosling's silvery embroidered scorpion jacket. This iconic costume design has him standing out in the crowd as the baddass that he is, a part of his personality and of the movie's visual design. He wears that scorpion jacket so often that it becomes his image in the movie's posters.

OR... It's his comfort clothing. This jacket gets progressively dirtier with blood as the movie goes forward and he does not take it out even when he has the chance to change. Because it's the right texture, it's comfortable and familiar. When everything is falling apart around him in the second half of the movie, that scorpion quite literally has his back.

The Gloves

We love a sexy pair of gloves. I like to think they have the same function, another comfort, since he's never caught driving without them on. Might be a sensory thing too, keeping things from touching his hands.

Which reminds me of this scene

This scene is very WOW. The SYMBOLISM. His hands are DIRTY because he is a CRIMINAL.

But he was also talking his way out of physical contact here.

The Brooding Attitude

Another thing you can't talk about this movie without bringing up is the fact the protagonist is Very Mysterious and Brooding and Quiet. Everyone wants to be as cool as he is with how Quiet and Mysterious he acts. I even saw people making fun at the fact that it takes him a good 30 seconds to answer anything addressed to him.

But to me, that was just screaming nonverbality. It's not even that he's an introvert, or awkward at socializing, since he happily seeks out Irene and her son Benício to chat with them. It's just that it's hard for him - the actual talking.

In this context, his monologue at the start of the film, which he repeats later on when he decides to help Standard, might be something he scripted, and rolls more easily off his tongue now.

People also point out his facial expression stays the same for the entire movie. He also often stares at everything in a very intense manner. It might be him being all baddass and calm and collected, or it might be that he just can't emote properly, something that happens a lot with autistic people. It's not like Ryan Gosling was being a lazy / bad actor, because he hinted microexpressions and acted with his entire body during the movie. A scene that definitely caught my eye was the one he was about to hammer a bullet into his enemy's face.

Sure, his face doesn't change even as he talks with the big baddy guy on the phone, but he's clearly angry to the point of twitching a little.

The Toothpick

I like that he had this little toothpick in his mouth all the time. He even asks Benício if he wants one, and the kid, thinking he's cool as hell, accepts so he can be like him. It's a nice little trait that adds extra personality to him.

It's also most definitely a stim.

The Cars

Last thing I have to add is the theme of the entire movie. This guy lives and breathes cars. He has three separate jobs and all of them involve cars. Every hobby and leisure activity he was portrayed partaking in the movie was in a car. He drives.

Cars are his special interest. We'll never know the choices that led him to his life of crimes, but we know he managed to include his favorite thing, the thing he loves and specialized on, into it. And he does a damn good job at it, his baddass movie protagonist-grade talent at being Mr. Drive.

Bonus: the theme song

Just cause "A Real Hero" by College is such an autistic song to me. Those lyrics about being "emotionally complex, in a grain of dystopic claims", all while the chorus repeats itself ad-infinitum, reassuring you that you've proven yourself to be a real human being (and a real hero). It's a common experience to autism, and I can confirm it, to feel alienated, like you're some sort of alien in a sea of normal people. The fact this song reassures me I'm human is very comforting.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[hornithology]

Grayson (2014) live read

join me as I re-read Grayson for research for an essay on it's treatment of eroticism.

love the use of bold pink for issue #1's cover. very much referencing 60's 70's James Bond posters and pop art. I saw a picture of a second printing where the pink was red instead, which could have been an aim at making it more marketable (less queer-seeming, which... lol) or could have been about the print quality on the color? the red with black title is way less striking.

the left variant cover is horrendous. why did you make his face look like that. why are you trying to sell some gritty version of Dick who doesn't know how to properly handle a gun, for a comic in which Midnighter is going to flirt fight with him? deception in advertising!

the right is really great. I wish I could find a better quality image. matches the energy of Nightwing #30 which lead to all of this.

on to the story!

there's something about dead, tortured, martyred Dick...

Looks like we've got a hot one. YES YOU DO, M!!!

"I can read the electrical activity inside your pretty head." "you fight like jazz." stellar dialogue. you can't tell me this is not a little bit of flirting. and Midnighter is a known, canonically gay character, so we are meant to read into his lines. I think it's also pretty established at this point in Dick's character consensus that he's very attractive.

I think this room is referencing Modesty Blaise (1966), a spy parody featuring Dirk Bogarde. I haven't seen it yet. when I first read Grayson I was like... the colorful visuals and patterns in a spy context make me think of Austin Powers—a 90's parody of the 60's/70's parodies of spy films. inspiration multiply removed! I'm fairly confident that the artists looked at some spy movies/posters for their design choices.

although this room could also be inspired by the red room in Twin Peaks. either/and.

the bold colors and patterns in Grayson are fairly important decisions, because they're the artistic decision that is most successful. iirc, we'll see how I feel on this re-read.

I WILL SCREAM AND I WILL CRY. Tim Seely and Tom King... I have questions and demands!!!!

more colors! but it's not actually hypnos because it's not vibrant enough and doesn't contain the concentric circles... or is it???

this is also weird because I'm not sure if like. we're not supposed to think that Helena and Dick were together romantically in the past (Nightwing / Huntress (1998)). that's pre new-52 so... shrug. but do they even know each other here? are they pretending that they have met recently? is Helena's vigilante identity a secret from Spiral? these questions are not relevant to my essay so I shall not be doing that investigation myself :)

ok actually that's Huntress middle row third from left, yes??? edit: no, it's Batwoman. anyway.

that's Grayson #1!

it's a pretty good issue opener, with some unfortunate fatphobia that is completely expected. we get some titilation with Helena, the start of a nebulous power dance that is perfect for the spy genre.

I wish that I liked the art better, since we have these artists for the majority of the run. the combination of Mikel Janín's drawings (not enough gesture) and Jeromy Cox's soft coloring of the figures makes it look like everyone is drawn from a 3D model. there's nothing wrong with using models and references in comics and is pretty much necessary for all DC comic turn around time, but it's really not my preference because you lose the "hand" of the drawing. the drawings in this issue look stiff. I'm not actually positive that Janín is using models.

I like the color choices for the hypnos and action sequences, the panel composition is good, and I like some of the inking. I think they are making smart decisions with the visuals, it's really just the type of drawing that is not my favorite. to each their own!

[angelsandemons]

Ok, I did want to share this little bit. I'm not sure how much of this is going to be blog canon since Bill is very obviously an extremely unreliable narrator here, but it's the most canon backstory we've got for him since the show first aired. And this isn't the whole backstory covered in the book by any means; in the very next couple pages, it talks about meeting the henchmaniacs in other dimensions and coming together with a sort of pirate crew-like dynamic. But these two pages are....interesting, to say the least.

[Image Description: Screenshots of the first and second pages of "The Early Years" section of The Book of Bill. The first page includes a picture of a baby Bill wearing big Velcro shoes. The second page has a lot of text effectively redacted with a glitchy effect. Full plain text (except for the heading formatting) transcription of the two pages can be found below the read more. End Image Description.]

The Early Years

Let's get something out of the way-there's no way for your 3D mind to process my 2D homeworld unless you chug expired milk while looking at a kaleidoscope. But since were pals, I'll beam an image directly into your brain. Of me as a baby! Aww! I had Velcro shoes that squeaky when I ran! Everyone loved me immediately, and the mayor dubbed me the best baby of all time," made my birthday a holiday, and gave out free knives.

Look, I know you want some tragic backstory that humanizes me and makes my sharp edges easier to swallow, but if you came to a triangle looking for depth, you're barking up the wrong treatise! Truth is I've always been loved and admired by all! But being special comes with a price.

You see, I wasn't just smarter than all the dull trapezoids and rhombuses sucking up my rightful oxygen. I had a gift, a rare mutation:

I could see into the third dimension.

No one else in my stifling pancake of a reality understood what I was talking about when I said there was a direction called "up." While they were all bumping around like ants in a terrarium, I could see a world of infinite glittering potential beyond the sliver of forgettable gruel that was my home reality. I looked up and saw the stars. And I was ready to be one.

Technically, talking about a "third" dimension was illegal in my world. But I knew that everyone would be grateful if they could be freed from their delusions!

It was time to put on a show!

I came up with a plan to show everyone what they were missing! I simpl [redacted] their screams getting louder [redacted] and louder as I [redacted] so much blood!!! so much [redacted] mandibles [redacted] my hands, shaking as I realized I could never undo th [redacted] was the last one breathi [redacted] pisodes of "Family Matter [redacted] until there was no one left but me, covered in blood, alone in the universe.

Huh, that's weird! For some reason, whenever I try to talk about that day, theres this loud buzzing in my ears and I black out for 30 seconds.

Well, we can come back to it! The important thing is, I freed myself from my suffocating world, and freed everyone else too, and everyone loved me for it, and everyone was fine! And that's all there is to say about that! The new dimension I escaped to had a job vacancy for the role of "Galactic Overlord." I humbly obliged!

[mrhowells]

Smallville 4x14

I love this episode a lot🥹

THAT'S ADORABLE😭😭

"You're gonna be fine. I know you're gonna be fine. Everyone I've ever hit was alright."

Lois -everyone I've ever hit was alright- Lane:

Clark really sleeps on the couch now that Lois lives there? LMAOOOO

the way he immediately smiles when he sees the dog I can't🥹🥹

"You hit him? With your car?" "No, with my fist🙄🙄"

CLARK YOUR FACE-

"Actually, I think it might be fun to have a dog around."

HE'S A MENACE, HE'S A DISGRACE, HE'S A FUCKING CLOWN, I LOVE HIMMMMMMMM

I'm crying

"I don't know. It's just kind of hard to be myself with her around."

that's so ironic though because apart from hiding his powers he is VERY himself around her

I need Tom Welling to stop smiling on my screen please and thank you, I'm not strong enough for this😭

ugh😩

Chloe helping Clark with his excuses, love to see it🥹 He's so bad at them he needs all the help he can get💀

Let me introduce you to my parents who have been married for about 30 years now:

"Let's see. He's annoying, and I can't get within ten feet of him without getting sick. I think we should call him Clarkie."

have I mentioned how much I love them before?

"I spent all morning on these."

they're both so cute🥹🥹

LMAOOOOOO he finds her so annoying

hsajaksjaksj LOOK AT HIS HAND IN THE SECOND IMAGE, HE'S SO DONE I'M SCREAMING

No because if I keep going like this I'll screenshot every single time they say something or even look at each other💀

Lois: You could be Skipper😇

Clark: *fake ass smile* anyway-

STAHP I'M SCREAMING

he's about to throw hands💀

This is so confusing, I thought Jason's mom orchestrated the entire meeting with Lana but now she wants him away from her?

"Paranoia is not a very attractive quality in a woman."

Umm okay, AND? I mean I don't give a shit about Genevieve but this is such a dumb statement, as if she's supposed to give a fuck about what's "attractive" to Lex or others, like what?

Sometimes he sounds like one of those "pick up artists" that the internet makes fun of all the time, I'm sorry💀💀

I. LOVE. THIS.

That's the way someone talks to their own kid, not their guest and I love that because Lois clearly lacks parental love. Martha & Lois will always be so special to me😭😭

"Remember when Clark did that? He was only... three." LMAOOOO

Lex is clearly losing patience with Clark😬

Can I join this family pls look at themmmm

Martha is such a badass actually

I'm glad Lana overheard that whole conversation between Jason and his mother, now I'm just hoping they'll give her more agency instead of making her a passive character and her own storyline.

(edit: so she did NOT hear what they were talking about🤡🤡 At least she saw it)

Clark is such a little shit😭

Still arguing about dog names🤡

"Hold on there Forrest Gump, what are you gonna do, run?" LOL

She's like nuh uh, get in the car dude AND HE LISTENS💀💀💀

How are they acting like they're been married for decades???

NOT AN ACTUAL QUESTION BC I KNOW HOW AND I'LL TELL YOU: they're comfortable around each other even if they don't realize it

🎶and I will go down with this ship🎶 (EXCEPT I DON'T EVEN HAVE TO BECAUSE IT'S FUCKING SAILING, IT WILL NEVER GO DOWNNNNN)

let's move on

"What is this, another one of your famous hunches or are we just on a little scenic route?"

"Okay, stop here."

"Wha- where??"

"HERE. Stop here."

"OKAY."

>>>MARRIED.

they sound like my grandparents💀

LOOK AT MY LIL POOKIES INVESTIGATING STUFF TOGETHER🥺

YEEEEET

I need to know where Clark gets his clothes bc that stuff withstands literally anything💀

AKJASJKAKSL STAHP😭

"He (the dog) saved my life. I'll take my chances on his loyalty." Ooof, is he calling out Lex👀

what is Lionel trying to do?���

CUTE.

CUTE.

Clark is happy = I'm happy, it's really that simple

this episode is premium, top tier chef's kiss EXCELLENT

[fuck-customers]

a fuck my manager/coworkers rant:

store manager got a new girlfriend back in October and since then work has been his second priority (EVEN DURING THE HOLIDAYS). Which is understandable in some regards but him and his ex literally broke up over him wanting to prioritize work. So often he goes off on two hour lunch dates with his GF we can see (at the shitty brunch place across the parking lot) when he said he was just going to go run the deposit to the bank. And he doesn't fucking COMMUNICATE anymore. One of my coworkers was given 5 days to completely rearrange a section of the store that was due last month but no one knew bc he never TOLD anyone and now he wants it done before Inventory is due. This entire month our rewards program is doing a special double points when purchasing a certain brand. I didn't find out until TODAY (the 20th) when I saw it on the TV image slide thing. The assistant manager didn't know until the Eighth.

He ignored and denied phone calls from our shift lead when on Valentine's Day when a customer was screaming at her, SM claimed that his sister was in labor and he was with her (dude you can step out of the room for five minutes) but we ALL know he was at V-day dinner with his GF (it was 5pm.)

He's on salary and should be working 40 hours and is technically on the clock all the time but he ignores people's text messages and shows up to work 15-30 minutes late every day and tries to leave early. He randomly goes out of town and only tells people last minute. There's no way he's making his 40 hours and NO ONE can do anything about it. He's been reported to our district manager several times and when she comes over to talk to him about it they just spend an hour in the back room giggling together because she doesn't care and loves him! All that matters is the store is doing well numbers wise.

... well it's not Anymore. because he's been so out of WACK that no one wants to put in effort working anymore. Bye bye 4.15 UPT and 40 DPT goal. have fun with the average 2.5 UPT. We've been consistently missing our sales goal. Oh well. Sorry buddy.

My biggest irritant though is that we are a pet store and like I don't care if my coworkers wanna slack on sales, but when they slack on caring for our animals is where I lose my mind and I'm sick and tired of having to pick up everyone's slack in that regard bc the management doesn't care either, they won't check over how animal care got done and so I have to be the one to make sure our animals aren't literally standing in soiled bedding 24/7.

I hate it here. In May it will be two years and I'm making minimum wage still, because every time the MW goes up, I lose any raise I had received. I should be making more than the hire we got two months ago but I don't. It makes me want to tear my hair out. I want to strangle our DM because she is the only thing keeping me from getting promoted, she wants me to have a car but company policy says 3/4 managers need a car. Everyone else does!! I would literally be lowest position anyways, I'm just there to pick up management slack I'm not there for big issues.

hate it here.

@staff I HATE the new text editor!

[sarahsinwonderland]

would you lie with me and just forget the world // carly sloan

Carly had been sitting in her dorm room when she got the call. The call that stopped her world. Her father’s voice on the line, along with people screaming all around him. She only had to hear ‘Marcus’ and ‘injured’ before she was standing up and grabbing everything within arms reach to throw into her duffel. Her roommate had turned to look at her and the way Carly looked must have been enough for Cecilia to be scared. ‘Bug, you need to come home.’ As if she would have stayed while her best friend, the only person other than Shawn who knew her better than anyone, was hurt. She said ‘I love you’s’ before she threw her keys at Cece. 

“I need you to drive to the airport. Please. Take my car, use it, I just...” She couldn’t break. Marcus. Think of Marcus. Cece nodded and as soon as they both had shoes on, Carly grabbed her bag and they left. Her dad sent her the ticket he had bought her and by the time she hit TSA, she had 20 minutes til boarding. When she was sitting alone in the bursting terminal, that’s when she called Lexie.

“Mommy...mommy how bad?”

“It’s bad. Callie and Link are working on him now.”

Carly forced most of the tears away, wiping the few stray ones that had fallen. “C-can you tell Shawn to pick me up? We’re leaving in 30 minutes.”

After hanging up with her mom and boarding the plane, she had found her seat, the first class window seat, right near the front of the plane. Her bag stuffed underneath the seat in front of her and her head back, hands rested on her stomach as she reminded herself to breathe. 

Until she heard it.

Next to her, the man was watching ESPN, in particular, a recap from the game came on and showed a replay of the game. Carly knew she shouldn’t have looked. But she did.

And she immediately grabbed the air sick bag from the seat back pocket and got sick. 

Not from the image or some weird unexplained phantom pain, but from the sureness that her best friend would likely never make it pro like he had dreamed of for years. From knowing that her best friend would wake up, in pain and mad.

But he sure as hell wouldn’t be alone. An hour later and she was bolting from her seat, bypassing everything and walking out of the airport to the arrivals, seeing her twin standing by his car. A deep breath and a moment to steady herself and before she could say a word, his arms were around her. 

“Let’s go.” She nodded into his shoulder and got into the car, putting on her seatbelt and stuffing the bag under her feet. Her brother drove well over the speed limit, getting them there in an astonishing 7 minutes, less than half the time it should have taken them. But before she knew it, she was running, actually sprinting, through the hospital to get to the place she knew they would be. 

The first one she saw was Nico and he immediately wrapped her in his arms. Her breath was coming out in pants but her arms wrapped tightly around him. She had grown up around them. Nico and Levi were the closest she got to a second set of parents aside from Meredith and Derek. She tightened her hold, pressing her face into the shoulder of his sweatshirt and finally letting go. 

She had held it in for so long, the fear, the pain, the...the agony. She let it all go now, her sobs coming harder and faster. Soon Levi had joined his husband and she was being held by her best friend’s parents, soothed and comforted.

Hours later, she was curled in the corner, her iPad in her lap and the Apple pencil in hand as she journaled every feeling in an attempt to not to think about looking up the video or the news or anything. Nico had turned the TV’s to some kid’s channel and she had spent the first 30 minutes watching some show about cartoon dogs with Australian accents. It was oddly calming. 

When Link and Callie came out, she stood, wringing her hands and standing a distance away before Levi waved her over and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. When they were shown to his room, Carly held back her gasp. Her best friend. He looked...he looked nothing like her Marcus. This Marcus was still and silent. Her ray of sunshine was never still. She joked that he would just burst if made to sit still. 

But still she moved to the side with his good arm and sat in the chair, knees pulled up to her chest and grabbed his hand. 

She didn’t move. She was like that when he woke up. Just sitting beside him, asleep with her head against her knees and his hand in her own. 

[ntlazer]

YouTube implements a new feature in which when you watch an ad, you’ll never see it again. Determined, you make it a goal to sit through every single ad. Eventually you succeed, but what you see on your screen afterwards is all too shocking...

I can't believe I made it this far... Just one more ad and I would never have to watch a YouTube ad ever again. My head was throbbing, I had gone through a 24-hour cycle of ads just so I could complete it all at once, even pulling out the YouTube app every time I went to the bathroom. I clicked on the next one, eyes strained. They would turn off anytime you closed your eyes longer than a blink or turned your head away.

"Has this ever happened to you?" asked an overly excited voice, a black and white screen showing a woman cooking something in a pan on screen. Suddenly, the pan melted on the stove-top and the woman looked no more than slightly peeved at the inconvenience. She looked at the screen with a disappointed look and nodded.

"Well, no more with the pan-omyte! A pan that has no melting point!!" It then went through its typical runs of additional features that the pan had and how it could probably raise your kids and save your marriage, given the opportunity.

"Order now!!" The screen went black. The end of the ads. The end of it all. I'd successfully been through all of them. A tear formed at the corner of my eye as I had finally traversed the slew of movie trailers, clothing outlets, bad infomercials, and everything in between. I was about to click to watch my first video, when my screen blinked for a moment and loaded another ad.

My win wasn't solidified yet, I guess. There was a constant stream of ads being added to the site as I sat threw them for the past day, so I wasn't surprised. This would be my last one. If I click away from the page after watching them all, I win. That's what the rules said, anyway. I clicked on the ad.

The screen was black, with slow, sad piano music playing in the background. The screen finally settled on fading on an image of a miserable looking person, deep bags under their eyes, hair disheveled, and in room messy enough to not be able to see the floor. They were sitting in front of a screen, dragging their mouse to click on something. Only then did I realize that the person on screen was me.

"No," I whispered in disbelief.

"Do you really want to sit through over 24-hours worth of ads to be ad free when you could simply pay for YouTube Premium?"

"Nooo!" I grabbed around the edges of my screen. "No! No! No!"

"Look how awful you can turn out by having to sit through all the ads. Take the easy way. Save your mind and your time, with YouTube Premium."

The screen faded to black, and I shot for my mouse to click on the next screen when I saw another ad had already loaded. I clicked on it furiously.

"Do you like sitting through ads?" Silly music played in the background. The screen immediately transitioned to me in front the screen hysterically screaming.

"No! No! No!" I screamed in the ad.

"NOOOO!!" I screamed in reality.

"Well you don't have to! With YouTube Premium, you can be free of all the ads. Join today!"

My hand was already primed to click away when the ad suddenly went dark, and the kooky music stopped playing.

"Do you really think you can escape the ads?" The ad asked me menacingly.

"Wha--"

"You won't. Unless you get YouTube Premium."

The screen went back to the ad choice screen, where 30 more ads had loaded in the past 30 seconds. All of them with different thumbnails of me. A banner ad popped up on screen as I stared in agony.

BUY. YOUTUBE. PREMIUM.

[whitepolaris]

The Ghosts of Gettysburg

by Paul J. Forti

When I was a boy, I remember reading about the Battle of Gettysburg, the most famous battle of the Civil War. During the battle, some 45,000 soldiers on both sides were either killed or wounded. The fighting was intense and terrifying, and many soldiers died of their wounds because of the shortage of medical assistance. 

When the battle ended, it left behind a ghastly and ghoulish scene. The smell of death was everywhere, and it was several weeks before all of the dead soldiers were buried. 

More than 1,200 Confederate soldiers were interred where they fell, in makeshift graves on the main battlefield. The Union soldiers were buried in an extension to the local cemetery, which became the National Cemetery at Gettysburg. 

I first visited Gettysburg in May 2000, and I was overwhelmed by the place. I was most impressed with the cemetery. While I didn’t believe in ghosts, I had an eerie feeling as I walked over ground holding hundreds of soldiers who died in defense of that in which they believed. As I finished the tour, I heard about a ghost walk that was provided to visitors, and I decided to take it the next night. 

From Skepticism to Belief

The tour started at 8:30 p.m. and was led by a guide dressed in Civil War attire. We visited a number of supposedly haunted sites in the town of Gettysburg and the surrounding battlefields, and it was almost 10:00 when we arrived at the last stop-the National Cemetery.

The tour guide told us there had been many ghost sightings here. He was a good storyteller, and I thought this part of his act: a way creating a little excitement for the group. The night was moonless, cool, and quiet. Many people on the tour were asking questions about ghosts, and the tour guide seemed to be embellishing stories he had heard. While I thought he was doing a good job, as a nonbeliever in ghosts I thought much of what he said was mere hype. 

So I decided to test the tour guide. I asked him if it was possible to get a photo of an orb on a digital camera. (In the paranormal realm, the word “orb” usually refers to floating, glowing spheres of unexplained origin.) He answered yes, and that he had taken many orb photos with his digital camera. 

I decided to try to photograph an orb myself, even though I honestly didn’t believe it would happen. I took my digital camera out of its case, turned it on, and tried to find something that I could focus on; it was very difficult to see any headstones or markers. I decided not to use the flash, pointed the camera in the direction of the cemetery, and just hoped for the best. 

Not even five seconds had passed before the image appeared on the viewfinder. A woman on the tour was looking at the viewing screen with me, and as the image appeared she screamed, “Oh my God, there’s an orb!” 

I looked at the screen and saw a series of what looked like small flashlights glowing in the dark. I was thinking, “How could a photo taken in total darkness, where there was no light or reflective material, show any form of light?” Unable to explain it to myself, I turned to the tour guide and asked for his opinion. He looked at the image and said, “Yep, you have a great photo of an orb.”

I wasn’t convinced that my “orb” photo proved anything, so I returned to the edge of the cemetery alone at 10:00 the next night, where I unsuccessfully tried to reproduce the previous night’s results. But as I looked into the distance, I saw an indisputable sight: a soldier dressed in what appeared to be a Union uniform and marching around a group of graves. I noted that there were no lights or reflections that might cause an optical illusion. I called out to the soldier, but he walked into the darkness. I didn’t know what to think. 

The next morning I went to the National Park Service headquarters and asked whether any Civil War reenactors had been walking around after dark. A park ranger told me that no one was allowed in the cemetery after dark, nor had there been any rangers on the property at 10:00 the night before. It was at that point I became convinced that there really are ghosts at Gettysburg. 

Over the years, my visits to Gettysburg have made me more of a believer in ghosts. I feel that the more that people believe in the presence of spirits, the greater the chance they will see them. At the same time, I feel that the spirits at Gettysburg are just looking for a little respect. Could it be possible that they present themselves to certain visitors as a way to say thank you for believing in them? 

[multi-writer]

Love in the Past - Chapter 1: 2022

Eddie Munson x 2022! Reader

(time travel! reader)

Chapter 2: The 80´s are Back

Summary: who would have thought that a simple investigation of events that happened more than 30 years ago would lead to an unforgettable and somewhat bizarre journey to the past?

Author´s note: I had this idea even before I started writing in general, I didn't think that it would catch many people's attention, so, from the bottom of my heart, I thank all those who wanted me to write this idea. If you like to be tagged in the chapters of these series you are welcome to tell me and I will gladly add you <3

This first chapter is a short one but chapters will be longer as the series goes on.

Requested? No

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MKUltra... nothing.

MKUltra project... nothing.

MKUltra 80´s... loading...

Nothing.

"Damn it!!!" you screamed as you lay down on your bed.

Well... it wasn't strange to find something on the internet considering it was a rumor that it was a government-funded experiment. However, it is interesting to think that an event like this could have been related to all the strange situations that happened in the small town of Hawkins. All the conspiracists on Reddit were talking about the relationship between the town and the lab that used to operate nearby. That lab ended up abandoned in the strangest way, one day it was working and the next there was no one there, it was a ghost building as if all the workers had disappeared.

Meanwhile, no one from Hawkins ever talked about the strange things that happened in the 80s, as if it was something common. Not even on the internet, there was no news when you searched for the name of the place, only images of the place, and the map.

Already exhausted, you decided to take your headphones, connect them to your cell phone and listen to some music to relax. While you were lying down you saw the posters you had both on the ceiling and on the wall, several were of bands or singers of all time like Queen, Nirvana, Taylor Swift, Gorillaz, Coldplay, and so on. There were posters from different movies, series, one or another comic book, and one or another video game. It wasn't the first time you ran into nothing in the Hawkins investigation. Some days it left you more intrigued, others simply exhausted. Not finding any information was disappointing, not even other sites dedicated to uncovering mysteries could give you an explanation for this.

Could it be that even the people from Hawkins didn't know what they were living?

Were they so innocent in the 80s?

When you saw the time you realized it was already late, being on vacation with an imaginative and active mind in the wee hours of the morning was not a good combination, it's as if the universe wanted to tell you something to make you realize some clue you missed and set in motion a series of steps to discover... nothing. And when you least realized it you were already sleeping.

"run..."

Why?

"He's coming..."

Who´s coming?

"run away... get into the tunnel"

Which tunnel?

A small tunnel was formed in front of you, so small you had to crawl to get inside. Some alarms with red lights illuminated the beginning of it but if you looked at it fixedly you realized that the bottom was dark, without a light that would guide you to an exit, a black hole that was waiting for you to enter. You didn't know which was worse, waiting outside with the alarms or going into the strange place. Unconsciously you decided to just stand there, staring at the metal tunnel as if it was going to eat you.

Slowly you looked up and after a few seconds, you turned to run towards the corridor with the red alarms. It was a very long corridor, but at the end of it you could see a metal door from where you could hear screams. With fear in your whole body you decided to run towards the door, sweat was running down your forehead while your hands were shaking with you. When you reached the door you put your hand on the knob, the screams were louder and it was obvious that they were on the other side of the door. You took a deep breath and forcefully opened the door.

When you opened your eyes you realized that you were still in your room.

It had been just a dream.

Small beads of sweat were falling from your forehead, your breathing was accelerated and you had a lump in your throat. Everything felt very real you could tell every detail of the dream without any problem, it was one of those dreams you could just not forget. When you turned around you saw that the map of Hawkins was still on the screen of your computer like a frozen image waiting for you to find something between its pixels.

You closed your eyes and took another deep breath to calm your rapidly beating heart. Whose voices were they? Why did you hear screams?

Your hands were cold and ached a little. Apparently, while you slept you held tightly to the blankets as if they were a life savior that would protect you from whatever you were escaping in your sleep.

When you looked at the screen again to analyze the map, under it was the distance between your city and the town. The number 4 was staring at you. 4 hours was not too far, you could easily come and go in a day.

Looking at the time on your cell phone, you saw that it was only 7:03am, if you left at 8:00am you could easily investigate the town and check the lab for a bit and be back before 6:00, taking into account the hours to go and come back.

A little visit wouldn't hurt, right?

You quickly got out of bed, got dressed, and started to prepare your things, your cell phone had 68% battery and your camera was half charged. You put both things in your mustard-colored backpack. You dressed in torn jeans, some Adidas and a white blouse. You grabbed your stuff and went to the kitchen to prepare a quick breakfast, a sandwich, and some water was enough. Along with this you prepared a coffee and put it in a thermos. You were ready to leave, you put everything in your backpack and went out to your car. There you plugged in your cell phone to charge it for the time on the road and connect your favorite playlist for the 4-hour drive. The weather looked sunny, perfect for visiting a small mysterious town.

As you took the road you thought about what you were doing, honestly it was one of the craziest ideas you have ever had but you had nothing to do that day, besides many kids your age were visiting abandoned places for fun and uploading to youtube whatever they found. You weren't going to record anything, it was just going to be a short visit to satisfy your curiosity. Nothing could go wrong.

It's not like the saying "curiosity killed the cat" was real, right?

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tag list:

(I tagged you guys because you mentioned you´d like to read it, if there's a problem please tell me so I can take you off the list! <3)

@lillyof-thevalley @jedinerd27

[msookyspooky]

Terrible Trilogy

Part 21

wordcount:6,237

"FFUCKER!!-" His scream was cut off by the chair crashing against the floor.

His face was on fire, you didn't even get his eyes as much as you could have but the fumes on his face were enough to blind him. He felt like peeling his skin off; it burnt so bad and it got worse within the last 30 seconds you sprayed him and ran out that damn door.

He coughed and wheezed, hacking up spit as he rushed to the bathroom sink. Jerking the handle on as he groaned in pain. Splashing as much cold water as he could on his face, rubbing at his skin with groans of irritated pain before wiping it off with the nearest towel. He threw it hard against the wall, face still burning and barely able to keep his eyes open as his nose ran like a sieve. He could have rinsed his eyes more but getting them clear enough to get to you was his main priority.

Billy ran to the window, ready to rip open that door and hope you were in that parking lot to kill you. He didn't care if he could barely open his eyes without feeling like someone rubbed them with the hottest hell fire; he would kill you for this in the parking lot and deal with Stu later. That was, he thought he would, before his stomach sank.

…There you were, sitting with wide eyes in a car he tried to make out. He forced his eyes open as he caught a glimpse of dark hair and a reflective little badge on the drivers jacket. He could feel his lips peel back in a sneer as his chest heaved…Saying you fucked up wasn't even close to the word right now….You were as good as dead.

He watched you leave and there was NOTHING he could do about it. Not with his face on fire or his eyes burning so badly. Definitely not with you in that car with a man that could end his life in more ways than one.

You were going to tell them everything. You were going to have cops ransacking the motel any minute now. He was done. Every day of miserable life he spent avoiding the police, going from a rich lawyer's son to in his eyes a complete failure, WASTED. All because of you.

He didn't care that he could hear a door beside the room open and close as someone left or that he was destroying a motel room that could get him caught.

All he could do was take his hunting knife, straddle the nearest pillow on the bed and stab the ever loving shit out of it. "YOU FUCKING!! STUPID! BITCH!! FUCKING DUMB!! PIECE OF SHIT!!" He stabbed faster and harder, so much rage at what you just did to him flowing through him. It was like Woodsboro again or even when he watched Cotton shoot his Mom.

Everyone was out to get him. Everyone stabbed him in the back. No one was safe to trust. Not after what he did, not anymore. Not after what you did, not after what Stu did in the shed, after…

That idea made him stab harder with an enraged yell. The fantasy of stabbing you ran through his mind as he let it out but so did images of Maureen choking on her own blood, of Sidney gasping for air.

His eyes burned, tears from his blood shot narrowed eyes and mucus from his nose streamed down his face as it contorted in rage. Huffing for air with each stab as it was harder to breathe. "I FUCKING HATE YOU!! I HATE YOU!! YOU NEVER CHANGE! YOU'RE ALL THE SAME! YOU ALL DON'T GIVE A FUCK!!!" He roared out till his throat was hoarse and it cracked.

The image of his Mom's dead body was what finally made him stop…The fact that image of her ran through his mind shocked him out of it momentarily. He didn't know how long he had been stabbing. Just that the pillow was in shreds, feathers everywhere and the room was a mess. Sweat, water and tears ran down his face as his body heaved in exhaustion. He sat back, letting himself slide off the bed.

He swore he saw what looked like her in the bathroom doorway. Just for a few seconds, he swore he saw her staring back at him through his blurry vision. Blood dripped from her forehead down her neck and cream white suit.

He violently shook his head and closed his eyes, knowing it wasn't real even if it felt like it. The last week since his letter arrived, he had seen her more often.

"...You're all the same…You all stab me in the back…That's all you do is leave. You only think of yourself and your problems and then you leave." He mumbled under his breath easily blaming the tears in his eyes on being sprayed and easily explaining the hoarseness in his voice from screaming. He jerked his eyes open just for her image to be gone.

He sat there a moment, registering his own words before he sucked in a ragged, deep breath.

He forced himself up, roughly rubbing his eyes while stalking towards the motel phone to dial a number. He forgot a few digits before digging in his pocket of his jacket on the bed where he had everyone's number or any other information he could get on a piece of wadded up paper. He jammed the number pad as he cursed at his burning eyes and sinuses.

It rang and rang as he shoved his wet hair out of his face. "Pick up the phone, dipshit!" He yelled to himself before sniffing hard as his nose continued to run and he wiped at his still burning eyes.

"...Yo, whaddya want?" Stu answered with a monotone voice as Billy tried to catch his breath.

"We have a major problem, get back here right now!"

"Look man, I'm not coming back for a while so deal with it-"

"YN went to the cops."

The line was silent, dead silent as Stu tried registering what he said.

"...Are you sure?"

"Yes I'm fucking sure! She jumped into the Detective's car. She's going to tell him everything, all because you couldn't keep your big mouth shut!!" Billy shouted over the phone. He didn't wait for a response. "I don't want to hear any whining or accusations or any bulkshit, Stu. Get back here NOW!" He slammed the phone back on the receiver, gripping fistfuls of his hair and yelling before rushing to shove everything of his and Stu's into their bags to get out of there as soon as they could as he grabbed a shirt to wipe his burning face more.

The same anger, fear and betrayal he felt 5 years ago hurled itself back at him. It was like he was 18 and racing to that cabin all over again.

…You weren't getting away with this. Not this time. He vowed he'd settle this even if it killed you both.

—————————————————————

You fidgeted with your hands…

You shook your head. "I-I…I don't even know where to start. Other than…Than-" It was on the tip of your tongue. Billy and Stu were alive, you were hiding them out of fear and that everyone was endanger if they weren't stopped along with this potential new Ghostface. IF it wasn't them playing you this entire time. Either way, they were a threat.

…But the memories of the media surrounding you, cameras flashing in your face as you ascended the courthouse stairs, the shouts of accusations ringing in your ears as you were helpless to just stand there and take it…But this time; you might be in handcuffs. Prison for the rest of your life as Gale Weathers book would be drilled into everyone's heads as the truth all along. That you, YN, were a sick killer just like Billy and Stu and you purposely helped them kill your friends to be with them. The invisible Scarlet letter branding you as the traitor, the slut, the other woman that killed two innocent girls to be with their boyfriends and with this new information; who would question it? Who would believe you?

You brought your fingers to your mouth and accidentally released a choked sob as Kincaid glanced at you.

You heard him sigh. "Miss YN, whatever this is I swear to you it will be between us for now. You see the recorder is off. This is completely confidential. "

He lightly rolled your eyes with a wary look. "But just for now. You'll have to report it, you'll have to share it and-"

"Hey, let's just take one step at a time. Preferably soon if it involves the killer."

You sucked in a shaky breath and nodded. "O-okay…T-The truth is…The truth is-" You hesitated. Seeing something in your rearview mirror speeding towards the car at an outrageous speed. Weaving in and out of traffic. One headlight and a wide body vehicle passing another car to get behind you.

You stopped talking with a loud gasp as it felt like someone yanked the breath right out of you.

Kincaid looked at you. "What is it? Are you-" He didn't finish as the vehicle tapped the back of his car.

You gripped your seat, a full on panic attack taking over you as a whimper escaped your lips. This couldn't be happening…This couldn't be happening!

The SUV revved its engine as Kincaid huffed in dismay.

"What the hell?!-" He gripped the wheel as they did it again, harder this time in oncoming LA traffic. You yelped, tongue caught in your throat too much to even speak as Kincaid almost swerved into an oncoming car. His defensive driving skills kicked in as he got back on course.

"I-It's him! It's the killer!" You finally forced out.

"You think?!" He gave with wide eyes and a dumbfounded look your way.

"You don't understand! H-he-He tried to run me off the road a few days ago! It's him!" You yelled out as you felt yourself jolt and metal screeching.

"Son of a bitch!" He hissed as the SUV finally passed you both, a car in another lane swerving while horns beeped furiously while other cars got out of the way of the deranged driver.

Kincaid instantly ripped out his communicator to radio. "Wallace? Jones? Anyone? I've got a 10-18 here! Hello?!"

"10-2, Detective Kincaid." Someone answered back.

The Detective's eyes narrowed on the speeding SUV. "I've got a 10-37 unable to pursue. Looks like a new 2000 or 2001 Black Dodge Durango with a damaged left headlight. Vehicle is on Western Avenue heading Eastbound. Suspect is dangerous and most likely a 10-32. Couldn't read the license plate, might not even have one."

"10-4. Sending officers that way."

They hung up as Kincaid lightly smacked the steering wheel and shoved his radio away. "Damn it! I didn't get a license plate…You're telling me that car attacked you? And you didn't say anything sooner?!" He urgently asked as you nodded.

"Yeah…Same reason they just now attacked again. A warning. I couldn't tell you because…It's related to this giant fucked up secret." You whispered with a tight throat. This felt like a literal nightmare.

Your breathing was harsh and urgent as he mumbled. "Alright, easy now. Take deep breaths okay? 1…2…3…4. You're okay." He guided you as you closed your eyes and swallowed to control it the best you could. You opened your eyes to look at him.

You both exchanged a glance before he gave a firm nod and changed lanes. "I'm getting you to that police station where you're safe. You can talk to me there or on our way; That's entirely up to you. My main goal is to get you to safety." 

You licked your lips. "Uh, I um…I think as much as I have to tell; I better start now…" You couldn't see the taillights of the black SUV any longer as the other cars drowned it out of view. "And fast…. Remember what you promised?"

He nodded firmly. "No recording and keep your friends safe. No pressure but I would truly love to know what the hell is going on here."

—————————————————––––––

Gale sat up front as Dewey drove and Randy sat in the back with Jennifer. Jennifer rambled after their very eye opening encounter with John Milton.

"We have to think. Strategize!" Jennifer announced.

Gale ranted on her fingers. "We know it's someone involved with Stab, we know this person isn't following the scripts like we originally thought and they're just killing anyone involved with the Woodsboro Massacre or Stab. Oh, and they're leaving behind pictures of Maureen to take credit for her murder…That's it. That's all we have."

"Milton is the key to everything!" Jennifer exclaimed.

Randy interrupted her, he was in a sour mood the entire day and a supposed accusing argument between him and you made it ten times worse.

"Milton is a sleaze ball pervert, not a killer. What's his motive?" Randy asked with a shrug of his shoulders.

Jennifer scoffed. "I don't know, mad at one of the actors or something? He's gotta be involved somehow..." Her face lit up and she pointed. "We should follow him!"

"No, we're going to go back to the precinct and tell Kincaid what we found out." Gale corrected. Still refusing to show Dennis Rafkin's file until she could talk to Kincaid herself.

Dewey scrunched his lips in worry. "Maybe we should call YN? I have a bad feeling about this. I don't know but today feels... Off."

Randy sighed. "Look, I'm worried about her too but you heard her. She doesn't want to talk to us and probably shut off her phone. I wouldn't bother at this point until we get to the precinct. Maybe she'll answer for Officer Dreamy." He mumbled with an eye roll.

Gale quirked a brow with a smirk. "So you noted he's attractive?"

Randy gave her a wry look. "Spare me the fake chummy jokes, Lady. Just because I'm helping Dewey which in turn helps me and YN doesn't mean I'm on Team Gale."

Gale rolled her eyes. "Oh, okay." Before whipping around in her seat to glare at Randy. "Listen here film nerd, I'm saving your lily white ass right now by helping you all catch this killer. Okay? I'm doing the right thing here-"

Randy blew air past his lips. "Oh Please! Give me a break, you're saving your dwindling pocket book."

Jennifer leaned between the seats. "Hey, back to what's important here! We need to get to the bottom of this!"

"We need to inform the police and let them take over." Gale retorted while running a hand over her temple.

Jennifer paused a moment before shaking her head in disgust. "You know, MY Gale would have been more aggressive. MY Gale would suspect everybody. My Gale-"

Everyone in unison said "SHUT UP!" as they all were at their wits end with Jennifer's constant talking.

"Guys, please just…Chill out. We're going to the police station." Dewey gave a stressed expression while rolling his neck.

Jennifer gave them dirty looks and flopped back into her seat as Dewey's phone ran. He instantly picked it up without even checking.

"Riley here."

Gale could hear your voice from the passenger seat and couldn't help lightly rolling her eyes. Especially with Dennis's file…If she could prove you lied and they were behind this because you let them go or god forbid helped them; her name would be in lights again and…

She glanced at Dewey as you spoke with a tinge of yearning.

…And Dewey would forgive her and be in her life again. Even if she'd rather wear loafers then admit she still loved him and missed him first.

Your voice sounded on the other line in the quiet car. "Dewey, it's YN."

Dewey perked up in his seat. "YN? I'm with Randy and Gale…Look, YN I'm sorry about-"

"It's okay, Dewey. Really…. Actually, I wanted to tell you I'm not at my motel or the station. John Milton called me and said he had something to tell me. I'm meeting him at his house."

Gale's eyes widened at that. Milton alluded to Maureen Prescott being sexually assaulted and God knows how many other women had even Gale's hair standing on end.She didn't like you but she wasn't a monster either.

"Is she stupid?! Tell her no!" Gale hissed at Dewey as Randy sat up.

"What is she saying?" Randy demanded as Dewey held up a finger.

"Wait. YN, that's not a good idea-"

"It's okay, Detective Kincaid is with me. I have official big time LAPD protection. But I'd feel better if you were there too."

Dewey cringed. "We're on our way but still-"

"Thanks."

Gale stared as Dewey gave a bewildered look and put his phone away. He shook his head. "Jeez…I think she's still mad. Not even a 'take care Dewey' or 'be careful you guys' or anything. "

Randy gripped the front seats. "Is she going to Milton's?! Call her back!"

"She has Mark with her." Dewey sighed.

Randy huffed. "And how do we know he's not involved?"

"The cop, Randy? I thought you were like some horror expert or whatever." Jennifer muttured with an eyeroll.

Randy shot her a mocking smirk. "Yes I am because if you knew anything about horror movies either A. The cop is useless and gets killed, endangering the protagonist along the way or B. The cop IS the killer!"

"Randy please. Kincaid isn't involved in anything but solving this." Gale retorted as Randy scoffed loudly.

"Just because he gave you a chance on this case to be a big shot again-"

Gale bristled as Randy continued.

"-Okay, who got a hold of Dewey's phone before the killer called YN? Who is at every crime scene arriving just in the nick of time? Who could get away with this the most? Think!"

Dewey's eyes glanced back at Randy and Gale took notice of the strange look exchanged between them right before Dewey mumbled. "I don't know, Randy…With that as evidence, any of us could be the killer…."

Randy gave Dewey a glare that made Gale do a subtle double take at his reflection in the rearview mirror. It had been years since they saw each other but the way Randy looked now was a far cry from the quirky college boy and an even farther cry from the geeky kid at Woodsboro.

Randy rolled his bottom lip. "Cut me some slack. I am NOT the killer anymore than you are."

Dewey bit his inner cheek. "I don't know! T-The phone call YN claims was your voice and the fact you seem awfully tense after today. Especially towards YN and Kincaid."

"Because there's a FUCKING KILLER after us all!" Randy exclaimed and tossed his hand up in dismay. "And besides, no one but YN has heard that and let's face it; she's been isolated so long for a reason!"

"What about Sarah Darling, huh? Her roomate swore she heard Roman on the phone but the cops claimed there's no way." Jennifer added.

"Because it's ROMAN. I've said it from the beginning, it's Roman! And possibly he has a partner, who better than the Detective?"

"Listen, I've bucked heads with Kincaid myself here but there's no proof it's him." Dewey gave.

Jennifer interjected. "Hey, how do we know though?" Everyone stared at her in silence as she shrugged. "I mean…How do we know any of our calls are us? Even now, how do you know that was YN?"

Dewey gave a slight disbelieving, nervous smirk. "Because…Because I know! It's her voice, it's her."

Randy sighed heavily. "Yeah, just like you're so certain the killer isn't Kincaid or Roman."

Gale finally snapped at them both. "Look boys, we could do this all night. Meanwhile, we know Milton is a perverted slimeball. We know that for a fact and YN is going right into that animals den…So how about you step on it and get us to that fucking mansion?"

They all exchanged glances before nodding.

Gale saw Dewey step on the gas and Randy fiddle with his hands as she was trying to piece things together in her head. Something was just…Off. Way off than the last two times and she couldn't help wondering if a certain actor wasn't the reason for that.

The sooner she found Kincaid and showed him the evidence she knew he would scold her for taking but shut up the moment she showed him a picture of Stu Macher beside Dennis Rafkin and his flimsy history…Well…She was sure the case would be solved.

But if Stu Macher was doing this…That was a whole new ballgame she wasn't ready to pitch for.

—————————————————––––––

You sat at the station an hour later, nursing a coffee you barely touched as the Detective came back to his office. He stepped in as you glanced up at him. He paused before nodding and shutting the door behind himself. Giving you both complete privacy.

"Randy and Dewey?" You asked under your breath.

Kincaid sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "We can't get a hold of them but I swear we're trying."

You furrowed your brows at that. It was unlike them not to answer their phones especially at a time like this. "...Angelina mentioned a party."

Kincaid raised his brows and walked to his desk to get his pen and notepad. "Okay, good. We're getting somewhere. Where is it at?" He leaned over his desk.

You tried to remember all of Angelina's rambling earlier. It was a blur at the moment. "Um…I want to say Milton's or Roman's? I'm not sure. Something about Roman's birthday. "

"That's okay, it's a start. We'll check at Roman's first."

He wrote something down in silence as you stared at him. You frowned deeply, eyes sore from crying and a numbness in your entire body.

"...You…You had to tell them didn't you?" You quietly asked as he stopped writing to glance at you from over his shoulder as you bit your lip. "I'm being apprehended, aren't I?"

He stared a moment before smiling at you. "For your safety? Yes. But the other part? No, I didn't tell anyone what you told me."

"I'm going to prison, aren't I? When this is all said and done."

He faltered, setting the pen down. "That's…That's not my jurisdiction. I take in the bad guys and let the courts decide what happens."

"And…That's what I am?" You mumbled, eyes downcast to your cold cup of coffee in your hands. He rolled his lips not looking at you as you felt your throat burn. "...You think I did it, don't you? That I'm as evil as they are or that I actually wanted my friends dead?" You wondered aloud before sitting the cup down on the desk and curling into yourself on the chair.

Kincaid finally looked up at you. His baby blue eyes wide as he shook his head. "No…YN, no." He stood up and wheeled his desk chair towards you to sit right across from you, both your knees practically touching as he got close enough so no one outside his office would hear.

"I do not think you're evil or that you had anything to do with any of this." You slowly looked back up at him as he stared at you. "I've done this for a long time. Almost half of my life. In all that time, you see things…Especially here. Hollywood is nothing but death."

You stared at him, taken aback by that. "What makes you say that?" You mumbled.

He smirked. "I'm a homicide Detective, remember? I see death daily." He lost the smirk as quickly as it came. "When you see what I see day in and day out; the violence, what people do to each other…You get haunted. Seeing that violence in your head over and over again is like a reoccurring ghost story and you're the haunted house. Be around it long enough and you start to see ghosts appear in real life outside of your head; walking among the living. "

"Like, one of your posters? Like say…Night of the Living Dead you have right there?" You nodded towards his wall. "I didn't know you were a movie buff."

He smiled. "Something like that. Though, more subtle. But still clear as day, I can point out who is a ghost or some malevolent person trying to blend in with living everyday people. People that have hope and morals and want genuine caring towards others…YN." He looked deeply into your eyes as he spoke. "You may have Ghosts, you may be haunted just like me, but you are not one of them. You are not dead inside like they are. You're not." He hesitated before easing forward in his seat, getting closer to you. "I see kindness…And hope…And trust…" He mumbled as he stared down at you. "I knew you were haunted the moment I spoke to you. You're ghosts were just more…Physical than I expected."

You glanced down and fiddled with your hands. "Can't shoot ghosts. I guess I saw that earlier today."

"Or…Maybe those two are messing with you more than you realize." He stared at you, forcing you to hold eye contact. "You were manipulated, YN. They used you and you were too scared to ask for help…You didn't do anything wrong and what you did do wrong is easily explained by fear for your life and those you love." He softly gave.

You felt your lip wobble as you closed your eyes. You never thought in a million years someone would actually believe you. It was almost too good to be true. In fact…It was.

"If only the rest of the world would see it that way." Your voice trembled as he gave you a frown.

His frown soon turned into a determined stare as he got closer, elbows on his knees to whisper to you. "They will if they have proof."

"...I…I don't know how." You muttered.

"We catch them. We wire you, get them to argue with you while my men are on standby in fact you'll be monitored at all times just in case, we get them to admit they are Stu Macher and Billy Loomis and that they blackmailed you…We get those pieces of shit once and for all."

"And what if that doesn't work? What if they skip town?"

"Then we'll figure out something. I'm not letting you go to prison, YN. My job is to send the bad ones to jail as a homicide Detective. The murderers. You're not a murderer."

You wiped your eyes with a sniff as you held yourself. The A/C on in the precinct as he stood up and offered you his jacket. You went to protest, already wearing a thin pleather jacket as he shook his head. "Take it, wad it up and use it as a pillow if anything. We're going to keep a lookout for that car and Stu…Or Dennis Rafkin to anyone else that asks while looking for your friends. For now, you need to rest. You're safe here, you have my word on that…You need a refill?"

You gently shook your head. "No but…Thank you. For everything."

He smiled at you. "Remember, can't thank me or call me Mark until I solve the case." He used your own words against you as you released a slight chuckle.

"Yeah. I remember, Detective."

He gave you another smile as he got up. "Good news is, we found evidence on the set."

You instantly perked up. "Really?"

"Yep. It means we're dealing with an ordinary flesh and blood killer. We might nail these guys faster than you think. Because I know how to handle guys like that."

You lightly scoffed. You were grateful but his enthusiasm seemed almost too good to be true. "Oh yeah? How?"

"Easy. Catch them or kill them." He openly gave as he walked by. He acted like he almost wanted to pat your shoulder but relented. "Hang tight here, YN. You're safe here and everyone only knows I brought you in for safety measures. "

He walked out before you stopped him as he got to the door. "Detective?"

He turned around to face you.

"...Hypothetically, if you're keeping your word and I'm a free woman after this…You wanna watch that new horror movie coming out this week? Considering you're a movie buff too."

" I hope you don't feel obligated to me for doing my job."

"I know. Maybe…Maybe I could get to know you if my life wasn't constantly being threatened." You muttered with a smile. "…So, what's your favorite scary movie?"

He tilted his head before walking up to you, smirking as he eased down low enough to whisper to you. One false move and his lips could graze your own. "As of late? My life…" Before he shot back up to walk away.

"...Mine too." You mumbled sadly while looking down.

He hesitated, pausing near the door before swallowing and mumbling low enough you barely heard him. "But that new movie sounds good to me. A slasher with a twist….I uh…I heard a rumor that the cop ends up not being the bad guy after all and the final girl gives him a chance at the end. I know I'm spoiling the movie but I really hope that twist ends up being true."

You eyed you. The tension was thick but the potential fear of disaster outweighed it as he gave you a firm nod and smile before walking out.

You sighed heavily, glancing down at your hands in your lap and his jacket draped over your shoulders. "Me too."

——————–—–—————————–—

Almost another hour went by as you thought to yourself what could be taking Kincaid so long? You had been here an hour already before he left, there was no way Stu or Billy weren't on the run by now. But you were more worried about your friends…What if they got revenge against you by getting them?

Your leg shook as you flipped your phone to call Kincaid. Tell him to stop searching for clues and find Dewey and Randy but you snapped the phone shut with a tired sigh. He was already doing so much, you couldn't bother him. He was a smart guy, he already had people looking for both of them tonight.

'Where are you guys? Why is no one answering their phones right now?' You saw the multiple times you called both Dewey and Randy and even Gale…Half tempted to call Stu and let him know the police knew everything just to scare them away from possibly doing something to kill anyone tonight but then that ruined the plan to clear your name.

You restlessly got up to walk around the office, Kincaid's jacket still on the chair before you went to go to his desk. Glancing at the window to see everyone was busy outside before skimming through your file on his desk. It was the thickest one right above both Sidney and her mother's.

You flipped it open to see pictures of yourself in High School at Woodsboro before this all happened. Smiling among the other Seniors, Tatum standing right next to you. You frowned at that before moving through. Newspaper clipping after newspaper clipping of your image. 'Local teen girl one of the sole survivors of the greatest tragedy in Woodsboro', 'Horror strikes small town after a teen party gone wrong', 'YN questioned by Police for her involvement.'

You sighed to yourself …Numb. You never smiled much after that night. How could you after so much happiness was taken from you? After you were betrayed so badly? After being publicly ostracized over one fame hungry woman's book?

You flipped through some more. A picture of you looking away with a serious stare at Windsor Campus; blood trickling down your forehead. 'The girl that tragedy follows. Why the fascination with YN?'

You frowned at that as you kept going. To pictures of you on the courthouse step looking entirely too tired for your young age. 'YN wins court case against Gale Weathers'

Then, news clippings that read like magazine clickbaits. 'What happened to the survivor of Ghostface? Hiding from guilt or just sick of the limelight?' Along with your image, crestfallen and trying to hide from the camera.

You didn't know what to expect from the file but you frowned nonetheless while looking through it.

Your phone rang and you instantly picked it up. After all, Kincaid just got it for you. It had to be him or Randy or Dewey returning your calls.

"Hello?"

"Hello?" Your own voice repeated.

"Who is this?"

"Who is this?" It echoed back.

You blinked. "Um, w-who's calling?"

"Um, w-who's calling?"

You sighed and rubbed your head. "Uh, Dewey or Randy or whoever; call me back. I can only hear myself."

"I only hear you too, YN."

The voice…That same cursed, deep, gravely voice that's haunted you for years on the other line. Your jaw slacked…How could they get this number?

"...Who is this?" You demanded in a harsh whisper.

"The question isn't who I am. The question is; who is with me?"

"YN! Stay away!" You gasped at hearing Dewey in the background as well as Gale screaming when Dewey yelled out in pain. You instantly shot up from your seat to go to the police in the other room but were caught off

"Don't do it. If you do one thing to attract attention to yourself…One thing, I'll kill them." You sucked in a breath and stepped away from the door as the voice spoke. "Now…Do you have somewhere we can be alone?"

"...Yes." You forced out. Trying to keep it together as your eyes saw the conjoined office door to Kincaid's office.

"Yeah. Go there." The voice drew out. You could practically hear the smirk on their face as they said it.

You looked behind yourself one more time before going to Wallace's empty office and shutting the door behind you.

"Oh, it's hard being friends with you YN. When you're friends with YN, you die…Well these friends don't have to, YN. It's up to you."

You paced the empty office, tears in your eyes at your worst fear coming to life.

"How do I know their voices are-"

"Real? How do you know you're not hearing things?"

"How do I know you're not imitating them?" You gave back through your teeth.

"What if I was never imitating them to begin with? After all, no one else heard them but you…Well, no one alive. And on Set; You shot at nothing today, YN. How do you know I'm not someone in your head?...Somewhere, you know-"

"Don't come here!" You heard Dewey yell again before yelping in pain. Shouts from Gale drowning out his pain filled groan.

"Or do you?" The voice mocked with sadistic glee.

Your voice trembled with anger and fear as you gripped the phone. "You're dead." You simply gave.

The voice ignored you as it continued. "I don't want them, I want you. It's simple; show yourself and they survive. You run, they die." The voice growled out as another harsh noise ran out on the otherline.

"Randy! Stop it!" You heard Gale yell out.

You shook your head, the fear of who this was gripping you more and more. You rolled your lips. "I-It's not too late. Okay?! It's not too late!"

"You're right, it's not too late. You can end this. End their pain…End all of this pain and suffering, YN. Just like Maureen and Sidney's pain ended."

You saw the distorted glass on the police door in the room. An empty hallway you knew led to the parking lot as Wallace's voice talked about Kincaid leaving earlier.

You sucked in a breath. "...Where?"

"YN, Sidney would be so happy to know we're finally together. That we're finally settling this-"

"Where?!" You snapped.

"...I'll call you on your way."

Your lip raised in disdain at the voice. "Whoever you are, I'm not afraid to end this." You mumbled with a shaky breath.

The phone hung up on you as you released an anguished cry under your breath and shoved your phone in your pocket. You felt the tears flow as you cursed under your breath. "Shit, shit, shit." Sniffling and rubbing your head at what exactly you were going to do.

With a final forceful breath of air, you grabbed Wallace's keys on his desk. Ready to bolt before you paused and went to his desk. Digging into his desk drawer. First drawer you found nothing, shoving it shut before frantically combing through the other one. Reaching in to find a small spare automatic. Eyes looking up for a split second to see the calendar as your stomach sank in understanding at the date…It was the fucking anniversary of the worst day of your life.

[nedlittle]

Top 5 MCR songs? Also, top 5 Gerard Way Looks?

beginning to think i didn't think this through because i have so much love in my heart that choosing favourite songs feels illegal. they're all my favourite (except for blood which I think is hilarious as a concept but would never voluntarily listen to it) however

vampires will never hurt you - they immediately peaked with this one i genuinely think it's in top 3 songs they've ever written on sheer technical creativity. the first 30 seconds send a spike of pure adrenaline through my body. i could lift a bus if vampires was playing in the bg. absolutely deranged choice for a first single yet absolutely in character for them. love that half the songs off bullets don't even feel like songs that are verse > chorus > verse > chorus > bridge > chorus. they're just stories set against the sicknastiest guitar you've ever heard. but vampires in particular feels like everyone is performing until they pass out the energy doesn't flag for half a second. perfect song. i could listen to it every day and not get tired of it

boy division - iconic from start to finish. the amount of time tourists walked in one me going absolutely sicko mode to this one on slow days is at LEAST 3. love how tongue-in-cheek the lyrics are wrt to legacy and image love that i have listened to this song approximately 4000 times since mid-july and yet i do not know half the lyrics bc someone will not enunciate. putting it after foundations on setlists is such a fun choice because it really doesn't give you a second to breathe. going straight from the healing and awe and resilience of being told to fix your heart IMMEDIATELY into IFALLMYENEMIESTHREWAPARTY--

the foundations of decay - i know i'm prone to exaggeration and hyperbole but this one is dead fucking serious. the first time i listened to foundations i was like oh wow new music! and i liked it well enough but didn't seek it out or really think about it that much the first few times i heard it and then during the summer i saw some fanart and thought oh hm maybe i should give foundations another listen and that time i heard "you must fix your heart" clear as a fucking bell like a bolt of lightning clean through down to the centre of me right when i was experiencing such intense existential dread about turning 25--an age i never thought i'd reach--and not having a stable job or future that i thought i would lay down and die from it. you must fix your heart!! and you must build an altar where it swells!! i just had such a profound experience hearing that lyric and i listened to just the bridge over and over again for a week until i could hear it like static in my ears even when it wasn't playing. you must fix your heart. if i remember and get over my fear of appointments i'm going to get this tattooed on my human body. i mean this forever.

mama - do not need to explain this one. ray toro i would fight god for you thank you for taking a dare to write a rock polka 100% seriously and as a result transgenderizing millions of people across the globe on a daily basis. also up there in top 3 songs they've ever written. screaming YOU SHOULD HAVE RAISED A BABY GIRL I SHOULD HAVE BEEN A BETTER SON with thousands of people would both fix me and make me worse. LIZA MINNELLI is there

our lady of sorrows - the childhood catholicism really jumped out with this one but in my defense stand up fucking tall don't let them see your back and take my fucking hand and never be afraid again. gay-ass epic of gilgamesh-ass punk song. i know the point is that it's short but also i wish it were 10 minutes long

okay jesus christ we're putting the looks under a read more because i'm going to end up writing a phd thesis on each of them and the good people who followed me for other things shouldn't have to scroll 10 km uphill in the snow to see other posts

i am limiting these looks to recent tour fits because otherwise we will be here for the next 7 years and i will end up burning all the hair off my scalp in another bad dye job SO let's watch me get embarrassing

gerard of arc

protestants invented the rapture so they could describe mcr. we knew this one was coming the only question was when a joan outfit was coming and boy howdy did they deliver. i don't know if this one would have been as impactful if there wasn't already a mini-joan canon within their discography but because there have been years and years of build up to gerard going full joan, waking up and seeing this was pure vindication. also helps that i'm a big fan of the og joan fit at voodoofest in 2008 (2007?). love the change from the red skirt that's often associated with joan (especially in millais' painting) to a red cape so that instead it's chainmail all the way down. also there's something so striking about a chainmail gown. apart from the arm braces and the piece at the breastbone there's no real armour, even regular textiles that look like armour--i mean, practicality. you don't wanna pass out midway through na na na. also the BLOOD post-stake joan and the big ass buckle boots! i'm so glad someone got a visual on the boots bc the shoes often make or break an outfit for me and i was trying to figure out wtf they had underrneath the gown without sounding like a perv. the little joan sticker on his wizard noise tower. saints for girls. give this bitch a sword. if i talk about this too long i will be fully insane. moving on

2. high school english teacher who you homoerotically imprinted on but specifically with the jacket + glasses

feel like i do not need to explain this one. best they've ever looked unironically. it was all over for me the second i saw the pearl bracelet. the day after this happened i went to the heterosexual wedding of a high school friend in what i can only describe as a slightly more masc version of this fit which was likened by my friends to both a dead victorian child and a medieval knight. this look was my lockscreen until joan happened and genuinely my life has not known a single moment of peace since. i am not exaggerating when i say that on nights i knew there was a show i had trouble sleeping because i was tormented by the idea of gerard way out in public wearing a cunty little outfit. one night i genuinely woke up in a cold sweat and the first coherent thought was "what if an outfit happened" because i am Extremely Normal. i invented a brand new emotion looking at this and that emotion is 'gender horny' and no i do not know what that means. someone needs to take me out back and old yeller me i can't keep living like this. next

3. cheergate original flavour

i wasn't following the tour rabidly or having Hot Kit Emo Summer yet so the morning after cheergate og i was innocently scrolling through tumblr, saw fanart, and went wait. WAIT. and then mine eyes were blessed by images and the little gay people in my phone going from awe to horniness back to awe at breakneck speed. if this hadn't been on my day off i'm not sure how i would have coped. you think i would have been able to balance a cashbox in the wake of cheergate? i can barely do that under normal circumstances. sometimes gender is a horseshoe that swings back around to you with someone else's euphoria, sometimes it's contagious like laughter. the delicately puffed sleeves are what does me in specifically. puffed sleeves pristine white sneakers tiny little socks smooth ass legs. if i think for more than three minutes about the possibility of the cheerleading dress being the defining outfit of the return era i immediately get a tension headache. there are kids who got into mcr during the break up and this is going to be THEIR gerard....i need to put my head into a blender.

4. cunt dragula/count fagula

99% perfect recreation of bela lugosi in dracula 1931 HELLO?? (1% imperfect because the tailcoat is cut weirdly high both for a beat-by-beat recreation and 1930s evening wear in general and i cannot stop looking at it) i love this one bc it's just so Fun and the details are so theatre kid-y that i am reduced to self-recognition through the other. tinted hair gel. white foundation. drawn-on eyebrows. the way the cape swishes. we love to have fun here this one looked so fun to wear. even though i am not a big fan of dracula 1931 i am Not Immune to dracula 1931. glad there was a gud evening 9 years in the making :)

5. pool boy at the vampire mansion

fully-fledged character in 6 words. pool boy at the vampire mansion is like a mother to me. this falls into the category of outfits that i have deemed in my Big Spreadsheet of Tour Outfits (i am extremely mentally healthy thank you for asking) 'camp counsellor fits'. looks EXTREMELY comfy and even though it's so simple, everything works together so well even the clear face mask which i always forget exists. i love you tiniest shorts on planet earth. i love you crooked hand-lettered t-shirt handmade with love. i love you black converse. i would say more about this but the thing about living with your parents at 25 is that if my mother comes upstairs to drag me to the dinner table she will see me being extremely abnormal about gerard way online.

bonus points to: nurse (made me reread hanif abdurraqib's extremely wonderful black parade essay also gave me insane emotions re: my own concepts of health and chronic pain lol), lil ghostie (my close personal friend :^)), fruit bat drag queen (newark 1, would have been #4 if not for dracula)

[chasingpj]

𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐦𝐞?

"My soulmate is so mean. He’s done nothing good with these stupid drawings. You know, all I want is something cute, like a picture of, maybe, flowers?"

pairing: leo valdez x gn reader

words: 2,994

warnings: cursing, mentions of genitalia

category: one-shot, soulmate!au

You don’t know who your soulmate is, but when you find out, you know the first thing you’ll do is punch him in his face. You don’t understand why he does this. Why can’t he be romantic like everyone else? You have a few friends who have the same connection you share with your soulmate, through your skin. Your friends rise from their slumbers with beautiful sketches on their arms; Or throughout the day, lines will appear as they’re being drawn, creating the most beautiful artwork you’ve ever seen. However, of course, you don’t get that; instead, you get this.

You stare at yourself in the mirror with pure disbelief, and you can’t decide whether to cry or scream. You’re used to these kinds of drawings in places like your arms, stomach, and legs, so they were easy to hide. But this has never happened before; it's never been in a place so… so visible.

You fill with rage as you observe the sloppily drawn dick on your forehead and your fist clenches as it lays on top of your bathroom sink. You fucking ass. How the hell am I going to hide this? You have to be at work in fifteen minutes, and you have this vulgar drawing on your forehead. You’re sure if you tell your boss your situation, he’d probably dismiss you because this is obviously not appropriate for the workplace. Still, you can’t even imagine trying to explain this to him. It was way too embarrassing.

"What am I going to do?” You whine as you rub your hands on your face. The drawing won’t be removed from your skin unless your soulmate removes it on his, so you had to think of a solution right away.

“Where could he possibly be where this is acceptable?” You try to refrain from sobbing hopelessly as your frantic mind searches for a solution. You think maybe a hat will work, but you discard the idea knowing your boss will tell you to take it off once you’re indoors. Suddenly, like a sign from the heavens, your solution hits you right in the face when you catch sight of your makeup bag lying on the toilet seat. You reach over, grabbing the pouch and unzipping it. Your quivering hands move too fast, causing the products to fall out and scatter into the sink. Your eyes skim over them in search of your thickest foundation and concealer. When you find them, along with your primer, you sigh, saying a silent prayer before getting to work.

***

Leo gasps sharply as the sight of his face in the mirror shocks him out of his fatigue. He touches his forehead, trying to recall the memory of last night while ignoring the pounding headache surging through his skull. He remembers getting to the club with a group of friends and how they took one shot after another until their vision was blurry. He has a faint memory of dancing with some girl, and the chaos of his 4 am Macdonald’s run with his friends. However, he doesn't recall the moment when this picture was drawn on his face. When did this happen? More importantly, who did this? He pauses, gawking at his reflection. His jaw clenches as the culprit comes to mind. He felt foolish for questioning who did this because he lives with, and he went home with one person last night, and that's Percy.

“Percy!” He yells angrily, and in the next room, he hears Percy’s manic laughter getting louder as he runs down the hall and into the bathroom with him. Percy can’t help but laugh even harder at the sight of a distressed Leo, and he silently congratulates himself for pulling such a successful prank. Leo’s expression hardens, and his gaze snaps over to him, “It's not funny!”

Percy snorts and nudges his shoulder, "Come on, loosen up!" Leo laughs sarcastically,

"Come on, loosen up!" He mocks with clear annoyance, making Percy’s laughter ceases. Leo usually takes things like this so well; he's never been angry at him because of a childish prank. The two of them have been pulling pranks on each other since they moved in together, and they would always laugh it out while deviously planning their revenge. Percy tilts his head, now growing annoyed that Leo’s annoyed.

"Why are you so uptight today?" He almost snaps, not understanding his fury. Leo's eyes narrow at him,

"My soulmate is linked to my skin." He speaks slowly and carefully, accentuating his words to make sure Percy understands how bad this is. Percy's mouth drops open, and he stares at the vulgar art on his forehead.

"Oh… shit," is the only thing he can think of saying. “Fuck, I forgot. I’m sorry,” Percy apologizes even though he knows it doesn’t help anything. He didn’t share the same connection with his soulmate, so he had forgotten entirely about Leo’s bond with his. He’s now left with regret knowing that there's someone out there going along their day trying to hide this lewd image.

Leo groans as he throws his head back. "I-It'll wash off? Right?"

Leo flips up the sink’s nozzle, dipping his head in the cold tap water to wet his face. He scrubs with his fingers, blindly grasping the soap next to him. He runs it over, spreading the suds and lightly scratching his forehead. He rinses everything off and returns to his original position to check his face now. He yells in panic when he sees the drawing didn't budge at all; it didn't even fade. Percy audibly gasps,

"I used permanent marker."

"BRO!"

"I'm sorry!"

Percy shifts on his feet as the memory of last night comes back to him. Leo fell asleep in the cab ride home, and Percy, somehow without much balance, carried him over his shoulder into their apartment complex. He squints his eyes, and with a vague remembrance, he recalls plopping him down on the couch. Leo was unconscious, and Percy’s drunk mind saw this as a perfect opportunity to prank him. He picked the first marker he saw, and in the middle of a giggling fit, he sloppily drew the phallic item and took a picture.

Leo frantically puts his head back in the sink to scrub again, and Percy stands by the door, watching panic wash over him. Leo continues scrubbing his skin, and though his skin becomes red under the friction of his nails, he persists. Percy shakes his head, walking over to him quickly, and he pats his shoulder.

"Come on, man. It's not working; you’re gonna hurt yourself." If Percy let him, Leo would scrub his skin raw. He disregards his advice and continues to scrub, bringing the soap over the drawing once again before scratching harshly. Percy, not wanting his friend to hurt himself, turns off the tap, and Leo groans, standing straight. He stares at himself in the mirror, his face dripping wet, and his skin is red with irritation. I'm so sorry.

***

Your day hasn't gotten any better since this morning. First, you wake with a dick on your forehead; second, you miss your bus because you took so much time layering makeup on your face. Then, you get to work about 15 minutes late because your commute, which usually took about 5 minutes, was delayed due to traffic. You assumed that your day couldn’t get any worse, but you discovered you spoke too soon when the system your job uses to put in orders crashed, making your job even harder than it had to be. Also, you spilled hot coffee on yourself during the morning rush, and that almost sent you straight into tears, but somehow, you prevailed.

By the afternoon, you wanted to rip your hair out when you realized you forgot your wallet, leaving you unfed and cranky. Your boss was no help to your mood either. He picked at everything you did today and held a grudge about you being late this morning. You've never had such a shitty day at work, and there is a sense of relief when you witnessed the clock turn to 4:30 pm. You immediately stood up from your chair, collecting your things before walking straight to the computer to clock out.

The last challenge you're facing is to get home in the slippery aftermath of the pouring rain earlier today. It was colder than usual; the sun’s hidden behind stormy gray clouds, and the smell of wet soil is in the air. You shiver, your arms wrapped around your frame in a poor attempt to keep you warm. You don't have an umbrella, and you hope it doesn’t start raining again. You were sure that if your makeup washes away in the rain for everyone to see the mystery under it, you will lose your mind.

You stand in the corner of the waiting shed, resting your head on the side. You take a deep breath, noticing your hands are anxiously chipping away the week-old nail polish. From the corner of your eye, you see someone join you under the shed, and out of usual curiosity, you look over. A tall, slender guy stands in the opposite corner; he wears distressed blue jeans, a black hoodie with a print you can’t see from your view, and a black winter hat. In his hands, he fiddles with a piece of scrap metal. His skin was tan, and his brown curly hair peeks from under his hat. Oblivious to your staring, he looks away from his fiddling and happens to glance over at you. There's a moment of awkward eye contact before you snap your vision away and out to the street.

You cringe at yourself for staring too long, shifting on your feet. You casually lean over the side of the curve, and you swear the light of the heavens was shining on your bus as it drove toward you. You couldn’t help but smile, a sense of relief washing over you. It’s here; you were one step closer to getting home and relaxing.

The excitement was taken away as quickly as it arrived, your bus passing your stop making a mini tsunami in the process. A wave of water splashes directly on you, and it takes you a moment to process what just happened. You stand there, cold and wet staring blankly at the curve. You felt overwhelmed, not being able to hold back the cries that you’ve been suppressing all day.

"are you-" a sob releases from your lips, stunning the unknown guy next to you. You miserably walk over to the bench, plopping down and resting your elbows on your thighs to lay your head in your hands. You sob freely, not caring about the boy's presence, and he stands in his spot, not sure what to do. He had an innate urge to make you feel better, and he doesn't know why but it pains him to see you like this. He clears his throat and decides to settle in the seat next to you. "Bad day?"

You sniffle, trying to find your breath, "The worst."

You don't look up, your hands doing their part to cover your face and your forehead. "I don't understand why everything is going so wrong.” You didn’t even care that you were pitying yourself, but you felt like you had the right considering how shit your day has been.

"I woke up with an awful drawing from my soulmate. I was late for my bus, which made me late to work; I haven't had lunch either. I'm hungry, cold, and now, soaking wet in street water." You sniffle once more. "My soulmate is so mean. He’s done nothing good with these stupid drawings. You know, all I want is something cute, like a picture of, maybe, flowers? I'd even take a tacky picture of two stick figures falling in love... shit; I’d be satisfied with a grocery list. But of course, with my luck, that doesn't happen. I get stupid drawings of... genitalia."

Leo’s body tenses next to you, and his teeth bite the inside of his lip. Drawings of genitalia? Sounds like him. Now he needed to see this drawing you were talking about, and he feels himself getting anxious at the possibility that you could be his soulmate. You continue to cry, refusing to move from your position.

"Well... it can't be that bad?"

"Oh, it's bad,” you managed to respond in your ragged breathing. Leo hesitantly reaches over, affectionately rubbing his hand across your upper back. Your breath hitches softly at the back of your throat, and there is a surge of warmth that radiates from his hand. You feel your tense shoulders begin to relax, and you furrow your eyebrows as your breath miraculously finds its regular pace. You even have this strange desire to cuddle into his frame to acquire more of his touch.

"Come on, show me. It's probably not as bad as you think." He speaks from his experience this morning. If you aren't his soulmate, he's sure that whatever you have isn't as traumatic as what he and his soulmate have.

"No! You'll laugh," you whine, your head laying firmly on your hands.

"I won't! I promise." You can tell from his voice that he was genuine, and for some reason, you can trust him. You slowly remove your hands from your face, but your head is still in an embarrassed bow. His heart pounds in his chest at the anticipation and leans forward to get a look at your face. You close your eyes, not wanting to see his initial reaction.

There it was. Right under your concealer, there is the familiar drawing faintly present. Leo's mouth drops, and his eyes widen; how is he going to tell you that he has the same picture on his forehead? You sigh shakily,

"It's bad, isn't it?" Your face burns in pure humiliation, and you now regret showing him. Leo is silent for a bit, trying to find words to explain himself.

"I'm sorry," he blurts out. Your eyebrows furrow and your eyes flutter open to look at his guilty expression.

"Why are you sorry?" He doesn't even attempt to explain himself in words. He simply slides off his winter hat, showing you the original drawing on his skin. You inhale sharply, your mind trying to process what is happening in front of you.

He's your soulmate, the person that you ideally would spend your life with. You didn't think you'd find him anytime soon or even at all. Your stomach flutters at the sight of him, and your cheeks get warm. You both gaze into each other’s eyes, and there was an immediate connection. You take in the tousled curls on his head, a bit frizzy from his hat and his big brown eyes. Your heart pumps hard in your chest, just as fast as the boy’s heart in front of you.

A few people told you that you’d feel like the world will slow down when you meet your soulmate. You’ll feel complete, and all at once, you’ll fall in love. You thought it was a load of over-romanticized bull, but you found that it was true even with your strange circumstance.

You finally found him…

But he's done this.

Your anger somehow counteracts this "in love" feeling, and you momentarily hate him for starting your day off on a sour note.

"You!" Your arms lift to strike him in the chest, but before you could attack, he grasps your tight fists.

"I'm sorry! I can explain!" He says quickly. Your arms loosen up, and you narrow your eyes at him,

"Explain yourself then." Sheepishly Leo cowers and his hands remain around your fist, just in case.

"Well," he sighs, "I partied a little too hard last night, and um, my roommate, Percy, thought it would be funny to draw this on my forehead."

"Your roommate is an ass."

"Well, yeah. Sometimes. But he was just as drunk as I was, and he didn't realize that the marker was permanent. When I saw it, I immediately thought of you, and how you’d have to walk around with this." He chews on the inside of his cheek, "I tried getting it off, but it won’t go away." You sigh, willing to forgive him since it wasn't his fault.

"So, we're gonna have this for a while?"

"Probably a couple of days or so." You groan and don’t say anything in return. You look down at your lap, still hiding your face from anyone around. "Oh, here, take my sweatshirt. The hoodie can keep it hidden.” He puts his hat back on and pulls his sweatshirt over his body, passing it to you. You smile softly as you take it from him. You pull it over your still soaked and cold frame, slipping your arms in and bringing the hood up. You mutter a small thank you, shoving your hands in the front pocket. He replies with a hum, allowing the sounds of the passing cars to fill your comfortable silence.

"Again, I'm sorry,” he apologizes sincerely, and you turn your head. You smile reassuringly,

"It's okay. I'll forgive you this time,” you say teasingly, and he chuckles. "I'm y/n, by the way."

"Leo." You reach over, taking his hand, and you guys share a handshake.

"Nice to meet you, soulmate.”

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