#in reality he’d probably have most people reaching to put their keys between their knuckles

[toasted-valentine]

You know, I was gonna say that I understand getting the ick from Boq but not Fiero, then I remembered the fact I had to be stopped from fist fighting someone last month because we were working on a project and his notes and planning were so disorganized it was making me viscerally mad, and I think I’d beat an actual Fiero to death in real life because if anyone gets between me and PTK invite it is on sight.

both of the male romantic interest characters in the wicked movie give me such an unfathomable ick I have never experienced before...the gender envy i get from glinda and jeff goldblum make up for it though

[eunoiaflow3r]

Take Control

A/N:  Based off the song Take Control by ANGE (i skipped a few verses), thank you for 1k followers! Do I like this? Not very much. Will I probably delete later? Probably. :/

Warning: smut haha, so if you don’t feel comfortable, please don’t read.  dom!spencer, jealous!spencer, oral, angst.... fem!reader.

Word Count: over 1k

Request(ed): no

Summary: Does this have a plot? Idek.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and I drove down

silence road 

We’re riding slow until the silence broke

And you told me,

“Oh, you sayin what you always say,”

“you sayin what you always say,”

His knuckles looked like they would nearly burst by how tight he was gripping the steering wheel in front of him. The night was going just fine, or, as well as it could have. Lately, things between Spencer and you haven’t gone as well as they could have. He’s been off to work back to back, and you’ve been busying yourself with your own studies as well. At first, you hadn’t even noticed the distance, but when your coworkers would ask how the other was doing, you’d have to make up something because, in reality, you had no idea.

Anyway, Spencer’s friends asked him out for a drink, so he told them he’d be there with you on his arm. He had to admit, it’s been a hot minute since you’ve gone out together, so when you came out of the bedroom in a little black dress, he was admittedly taken aback, and just wanted to carry you back from where you walked out from because he wasn’t sure he would be able to concentrate for the rest of the night with you looking the way that you did.

His eyes never left you body as you left the house, hands never left your thighs in the car, and his mind never off of you the whole night. So, when you went to go get a refill at the bar for him and his friends with Emily, it was safe to say that his eyes never left you or your body the entire time. You made conversation with Emily while you two were waiting for the drinks for the table, but there was a new body on your left that you were ultimately surprised to see. You were polite to him of course, but he was flirting, and it made you rather uneasy. Spencer was there in the next moment after he saw the man’s hand on your leg, and quickly ushered you and him to the car outside.

So here you were silent, and waiting to see where the night leads from here.

Right there I knew what you meant

And now it’s your chance

Baby, you can take control

I think by now I’m too fucked up to even make it home

Don’t think I can wait no more

(I know that you know) Oh you know

I know you know

Baby, you can take control

As soon as you got through the door, keys were thrown on the table, and lips were pressed to your neck. His hands went down to gently squeeze your hips, silently telling you to jump so that you could wrap your legs around his waist. His lips left your neck to meet yours in a quick kiss as he walked you to the bedroom and dropped you gently on the mattress al the while taking his shirt off. 

“I hated seeing that guy with you tonight.” His lips were on your neck again traveling down to your breasts and peppering kisses along there too.

“Spencer -”

He didn’t answer and instead stood between your legs and slowly dragged his slender fingers along your thighs reaching the bottom of your dress. Once he got there, all he did was put his warm hands underneath and brought it up so that it was above your torso but still covering your breasts. He leaned down and kissed a trail from the top of your underwear all the way up until your dressed stopped.

“I like this dress.” He brings the dress higher and kisses along the way up as he does. “I think that guy did too.”

Once he pulled the dress away from your body, he quickly removed his pants and got right back in between your lefts again. He bent down, the top half of his body covering yours, his covered erection pressed against your heat. He kissed you harder and began rocking his hard length against your needy clit which made you whimper and him groan. 

“Spencer, I -” He was kissing your breasts again and freed them from their restraints. Only then did he wrap his warm mouth around on of your now hardened nipples which made you arch your back in pleasure. “Spencer.”

Baby don’t trip

We both know we’ve been waiting for this

There was some shit that went on in your past

And I know it’s hard to commit but girl 

Let me start it with this

I’ll make you forget you went through it

He lost you, you didn’t lose him

It was no secret to you that Spencer was a little possessive. You could tell when you first started dating him. He didn’t try to hide it either. Whether it was an arm across your shoulders, hand on your thigh, or a hickey on your neck, people knew you were his. You’re not sure what made him this way, but you weren’t complaining. 

It was probably most clear to you when both of you ran into your ex, and those insecure feelings came back to you. Spencer was having none of it and made love to your body that night showing you that you were better off with him anyway. 

--------------

Spencer’s mouth sucked, and teased one of your breasts, while his hand did wonders on the other. 

You arched your back and moaned feeling yourself getting wetter and wetter. You were practically dripping right in front of his eyes. His mouth went to the other breast, as his hands went down your torso, they pulled down your panties, but you pulled your legs closed hiding your throbbing heat. 

"Y/N, you’re beautiful. Please open up for me babe," he whispered as he guided your legs open. Once his fingers found your folds and started rubbing in a way you never thought, you thought you were was done for. You moaned, and he thought there was absolutely nothing sweeter than those sounds coming out of your delicious mouth. 

“Hmm?” He switched nipples and was now bringing his hand down slowly to give much-needed attention to your swollen clit.

“Oh my god!”

“Yeah?” He moves his thumb inside your panties and starts rubbing against you. “This feel good?”

“Yeah, yeah, please -”

His mouth trailed wet kisses from your breasts, down your stomach, and finally to where you needed him the most. After feeling rubbing her a bit more, he put his fingers to his mouth and tasted her. He groaned at the sweet taste. "Oh fuck, you taste so fucking, good baby." You whimpered and it grew louder as his mouth found your clit. 

He started sucking and licking your juices up as he found your entrance and started teasing it with his tongue. You moaned louder, which made him go even farther in. Before you could reach your high, he pulled away making you whimper.

"Don't worry baby, hold on." 

That’s why I’m your new man

You can tell me what you wanted me to do and I’ll do it

Tell me where you’re wanting to go and go do it

Body language, girl go ahead and use it

“Oh, God. Y/N the things you do to me.”

You were on your knees, half of his cock in your left hand, the other half in your mouth. Every now and then, you’d come up and suck on his tip for a bit, which made Spencer groan like crazy. His hand was on the back of your head guiding you, but he soon pulled you off. 

“I don’t wanna -” he groaned as you went right back down on him. “No, no I’m not gonna cum like this.”

He brings you up and lays you on the bed, so now you are underneath him.

“Tell me what you want.”

All you did was moan because his hand was back down in between your thighs and you could barely muster a word.

“Tell me where you want me.”

His mouth trails wet kisses from your breasts to your core, and you whine because he’s moving so slow and won’t stop teasing you.

“Is this where you want me?”

And I know it’s new for you

But tell me, what can I do for you?

Maybe something we don’t usually do

Tonight it’s up to you to choose

“I want you inside, please, Spence, please -”

“Yeah?”

He took out a condom from the nightstand and rolled it gently onto himself. “Oh fuck,” He rubbed his erection against you. “You’re so wet for me, are you ready?”

You just moaned in response, very impatient, and just ready for him to take you already.

“Fuck.” Spencer groaned as he slid inside of you slowly. “You’re so tight for me.” He brings his head down to rest on the side of your neck where he begins to press a kiss or two. He pulled himself out but rocks back inside, harder this time. That, with the mix of one of his fingers rubbing your clit, made you want to cum right then and there. He could feel you growing tighter around his cock and started rubbing faster. 

“Spencer!”

He starts rocking his hips faster causing you to arch your back and grip his curls tighter between your fingers. 

“Come.” He whispers in your ear as his thrusts slow down. “You’ll get another one before this is over. Just come for me.” You did as he said, maybe it was the authority in his voice or your urgent need to, but you came quickly. That didn’t stop Spencer though as he kept rocking his hips against yours. “God, you’re so damn tight for me.”

Another orgasm flushed through you out of nowhere which had you whining in ecstasy and gripping him tighter. “Look at me,” Spencer demanded. And you did. His eyes bore into yours as he jerked against you, pushing harder, causing the orgasm to continue pumping through you. His mouth fell open, and his eyes clenched shut as he came.

He stilled inside of you for a moment after he came, and gently pressed a kiss to the side of your neck. Neither of you said anything as he pulled out but still held you tightly under him. 

And girl don’t you be afraid

I’ll be down for anything

Treat tonight just like a holiday

You’re something to celebrate

[qvid-pro-qvo]

under the cover of night (part i)

mike dodds x gender neutral reader. reader is a detective with the special victims unit. mike dodds is alive and sergeant of svu. special thanks to @writefasttalkevenfaster for the suggestions she gave, and @crazyshannonigans for the beta. 

part one. part two. part three.

word count: 4749

rating: mature, for the pain of having to hide what’s already hidden (canon-typical violence and themes here, with mentions of alcohol, rape, murder, etc. also, mike is reader’s superior)

-

Undercover operations are always a little bit complicated.

The case itself is straightforward, if not incredibly heartbreaking. A trafficking ring targeted towards couples, with an online storefront for access. The squad has been on them for a month now, and each step closer seems to bring you all two steps back.

But that doesn’t matter, when in the moment, you’re so damn close.

“Hey,” Mike murmurs, catching your attention with a squeeze of his hand. “You all right?”

“Yeah,” you reply, mouth quirking up as you squeeze his hand back. “I’m good. Just thinking.”

“About?” he asks, and you just squeeze his hand again, shaking your head with a little laugh as you feel him pull you just a little closer. His hand leaves yours, and when his arm wraps around you, falling into his side feels like the most natural thing in the world.

Maybe because it is. It is easy to follow his lead, to lean close, push up to whisper into his ear. It’s also easy to muffle the mic against your shirt, pressing against Mike’s side so that the sound goes fuzzy. “Nothing for the peanut gallery,” you murmur, and his answering huff hits your hair.

“Understood, detective,” he whispers back, and dares a kiss against your temple, hiding his movements behind your head so the van can’t see.

A straightforward case. A simple undercover. What could possibly make it complicated?

Well.

For a few incredible, secret months, you and Mike Dodds have actually been dating. Secret because he’s your superior officer, secret because of his father, and secret because the thought of waiting for the necessary channels, for when it would be proper, makes your skin itch when you know you aren’t gonna let this guy go.

At first, you’d thought it was a joke, getting that text from Liv. Getting that text from Liv while your feet hit against Mike’s under the table. Getting that text from Liv while having dinner with Mike Dodds, a date to finish up the end of the week, on the other side of town where other SVU detectives or nosy A.D.A.s couldn’t stumble upon the two of you. You’d chuckled when you’d gotten it, barely reading the message to the squad.

“Someone’s gonna be having fun,” you’d chuckled, shaking your head before putting your phone down. The word undercover had been the only thing that’d stuck out, and it was easy to know that you were not usually first pick.

Mike’s lack of response probably should’ve been your first clue. But it wasn’t. You’d just started chatting about something that’d happened at your gym when you realized that Mike had… had actually opened the text.

“Mike,” you’d laughed, reaching for your glass. “Come on. They’ll be fine without us.”

And when he’d cleared his throat, reached to smooth down the front of his shirt and raise a brow at you, well.

That was the hint.

“No,” you’d blurted out.

“Oh, yeah,” he’d responded, and you’d watched him try a small smile as he lifted his hand for the check.

The problem was that you were just the type that was needed – it was hard to ignore when the victims looked a lot like you, and a lot like him. When the targets were professional couples looking for a little bit of fun to “spice up” their sex life, you and Mike, side by side, could’ve been the blueprint.

“The perfect ploy,” Liv had told the two of you as you stood in front of her. Fresh off of trying to look like the two of you weren’t on a date together, smiling together for a photo she could upload onto the page that Amanda was meticulously crafting. “Thanks for doing this, guys. If we set up the profile tonight, we could have a hit as early as tomorrow morning. Find out who’s giving up these couples to the wolves.”

“It’s no problem,” Mike told her, then, hand still around your waist as she lowered her phone camera.

“Our job, isn’t it?” you said with a smile, not thinking about how you hadn’t pulled away.

And then Liv had glanced up to the both of you. A hint of a smile had played across her lips, especially as the two of you almost jumped apart at her raised brow. “We’re done with pictures now. Go look over Rollins’ work, see if it needs any personal touches.”

All of that led up to now. Running your hand up Mike’s bicep in full view of the crew. Your hands interlocking as you lean back with the sound of Liv’s voice in your ear, telling you that the mic was getting caught on his jacket. The feeling of your bodies flush against each other, glancing toward the door while waiting for your contact to arrive.

“Copy that, Lieutenant,” you say, trying to stifle your little grin so the rest of the squad can’t hear the delight in your features. “Any sign?”

“Nothing,” is Carisi’s tired response, and you can hear every inch his jaw stretches with the yawn he manages. “Dead out here.”

“Nothing from this side,” Rollins reports, her voice a little more like a tin can thanks to the distance.

“Think we can call it an early night, then?” Fin asks. “I don’t see any of you standing out in the cold.”

You can’t help your chuckle, but then there’s a sharp intake of breath from Carisi. “Looks like you just jinxed it. Look. Coming from our right, just passing the awnings.”

“That’s him.” Liv’s voice has a tone to it that makes your back straighten subconsciously, a warning that lifts Mike’s arm to wrap around your waist. “All right, guys. You’re on. Remember. We need him to tell us who he sends addresses to.”

“Copy that,” you reply, and Mike’s grip is firm. You look down at your boyfriend - well. Fake boyfriend, you suppose. “Showtime, sergeant.”

His name is Will. He’s a handsome guy, with a brilliant smile and a laugh that’s contagious. You and Mike stand to greet him, and when he shakes his grip is firm, just enough.

“Well. The picture doesn’t do the two of you justice,” he says with a grin, taking Mike in with an unsubtle up and down that makes you smile despite the situation. “I’m loving the no-tie look and show-stopping smiles.”

The answer you each give is a sheepish laugh, and you feel Mike’s hand squeeze on your waist. “Isn’t he a charmer?” you say to Mike lightly, and Will shrugs, faux-humility oozing.

“I do my damnedest. Why don’t we get a couple of drinks? Get to know one another.”

“Sounds fine by me,” Mike says in a low rumble, all warmth. It makes your hand on his back move up to his neck, playing with the baby hairs there.

“Me, too,” you agree. “What’s your order, Will? We’ll cover.”

There’s about half an hour of small talk. The conversation moves… easily enough. Verbal flirting, gentle pushes, but nothing that tells you he’s willing to come along to the hotel room you have the key to.

It’s at forty-five minutes you decide to make a move. You’re standing in between the two of them, Mike and Will, and you find yourself mimicking what you’re doing on Mike’s end with Will. Little leans closer, as much as you can manage, fingers on his arm, on his shoulder. It’s blatant, more than a little, and you try to play up the drinks as much as you can when they’re notably virgin on your end. But Mike…

God, but Mike.

It’s like a bungee cord. Pushing in to Will gets you a pull back into Mike’s side. No matter how much you try, you’re urged back close to him. It gets to the point where Will is getting visibly turned off by Mike’s movements, at the way he’s pulling you back from him.

You know, in your brain, he’s just trying to protect you. Every time Will touches you, you feel the tension from him. You both know what he does with his little team, what the body count has been.

But it’s the operation. It’s undercover.

Will’s hand reaches for yours, the one that’s settled on his knee. He covers your fingers, interlocks your hands, and you don’t hide your little laugh, ducking your head.

You feel that tug again. The bungee cord yanking you back to reality, Mike’s arm on your waist pulling you against him. It makes Will clench his jaw, makes you wince as you press against him and close your eyes tight.

“Mike,” you say, sharp, stern. His fingers release suddenly, and you almost stumble at the lack of pressure against your side.

“Sorry,” he mutters, not sorry in the slightest. You can see it in the tension of his shoulders, the feeling of his hand on your back in smooth circles. “Just…”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Will’s eyeing the both of you now, and you can see the suspicion start to close him off. His arm lifts from the bar, his finger on the back of your hand pulling away. He’s assessing Mike, and there’s a squint that makes you nervous. Makes you scramble.

“Mike, honey,” you say. “Why don’t you get the next round?” Your eyes don’t leave Will, who’s now facing you completely. It’s as if Mike doesn’t exist, and in that moment, you’re very much okay with that.

You know he wants to argue. Wants to keep himself glued to your side. But another look from you keeps his mouth shut, and when he nods, it’s with a small smile. Polite. Banal. He can’t help himself completely – a kiss to your temple that makes Will’s lips twitch – but you don’t look up when he does so, a dismissal in and of itself.

It’s only when Mike is out of supposed earshot that you start talking, glancing over your shoulder for the show of it. After all, Mike can hear every word.

“Sorry about that,” you sigh out. “This is our first time, and… he wants everything to be perfect. Still trying to figure out what he wants.”

“I know that feeling. And I don’t blame your beau.” Will’s voice is sympathetic, and he lifts his hand again to trace along your knuckles. “Hard not to feel that way with two pretty people to impress.”

In your head is a mantra to yourself. Flirt. Flirt like your life depends on it.

“If you’re worried about being impressive, trust me, you don’t have to,” you laugh out, leaning forward with a conspiratorial glance around the bar. “I would venture to say that’s what makes Mike a little nervous.”

“You think?” his voice goes similarly low. “A man like that? Nervous about me?”

You watch his eyes glance towards where Mike is – yours follows easily. In that moment, you see what he sees. Strong, tall, broad-shouldered, great ass. You have to fight your grin, the little rush of possessiveness that you get when he glances back and sees you. He smiles, bright and easy, like every smile he gives you, and you force yourself to look back at the man you’re trying to seduce.

“Look,” you murmur, and push forward so your mouth is by his ear, your fingers reaching up to run down his chest, play with a button. “We saw your photo, and he couldn’t… control himself.”

Not true. Mike had given a little fist pump at the sight of Will because of his connection to the case, had grinned at you with the victory. But that didn’t matter, because Will was looking, too, and turned to look at you once he’d gotten his fill. “Give him another chance,” you push. Push without being pushy, urge him without seeming urgent. Let your fingers slide down his chest to rest over his hand. “He’ll play nice. I’ll make sure of it.”

There seemed to be a beat. Will’s eyes scanning yours. And then he smirks.

“You have a room?” he asks.

Got him. “Upstairs. Why don’t you come up?”

“That’s it,” Liv’s voice sings in your ear. You fight the urge to turn your head to it. “Get him up there, then figure out what he knows.” She sounds proud, and you try not to preen at it either. Letting all your pleasure show in your smile that you hope looks a little wicked.

“Should we bring the drinks?” you ask. Knowing that the drink you’re getting is as virgin as Mike’s is.

“No,” Will replies, and he presses a kiss to your cheek. “Get your handsome man.”

You turn over your shoulder. Smile at Mike, who smiles back again when he catches your gaze. You tilt your head with a nod, and he gets the picture, waving off the bartender, offering over a bill before taking a few steps towards you.

Will’s hand settles on your back. You try not to flinch away from it, try to lean into it, even, and smile as you both turn towards where the bar leads up into the hotel. “Lead the way,” you tell him, and he smirks. 

You hear Liv’s voice in your ear. “They’re heading upstairs.”

The walk is easy. You know Mike is only a few steps behind, you can hear his light footfalls, but soon he’s right beside the both of you.

“313,” You say against his ear, loud enough that Mike can hear. You hand your boyfriend the key card, and Will presses a kiss against your temple right where Mike did earlier. You try not to squirm with it, just let out a light chuckle as Mike takes the card.

“Perfect,” the bastard responds, and when you smile at him it’s real enough. “I’ve got a surprise for you, once we’re inside.”

“Oh, yeah?” you say, keeping your voice low and breathy. You watch Mike push the door open, moving forward with Will to follow him. His hand drops from touching you, and you can’t help your sigh of relief. Almost there.

That’s when you feel the gun against your back.

You can’t help the way your breath hitches. Mike turns around once he’s in the room, and you swallow tightly. There’s a digging, and you’re urged forward, stumbling as you feel Will’s hand grip your side.

“Keep walking,” he snaps. “That’s it. Let your boyfriend get a good look at you.”

“Sweetheart?” Mike’s voice is concerned, and you can tell it’s not something faked for the squad. “What’s going on?”

“Drop the act, officers,” Will snarls. “And get in the damn room.”

“Dodds?” Liv’s voice is in your ear and Mike’s at the same time, and you both wince with it, the sudden sharpness. “What’s going on?”

You’re pushed forward again, the only thing touching you now the barrel against your back. Your mind is racing, and you close your eyes, take a deep breath. “Will, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whisper, hands lifting slowly. “There’s no need for… for a gun.”

Carisi’s voice is next, sharp. “Did I just hear ‘gun’? Lieutenant –”

“Dodds, report!”

Mike’s voice is hard. “Will, what’s going on? Come on, let my –”

“Oh, shut up.” The gun moves to your side, and Will’s grip on you returns, this time grabbing your bicep to yank you close. “Any wrong moves and I blow a hole into your partner’s side, here. Now, sit.”

Mike’s ass hits the bed quick, and you can see the way his whole body tenses when he’s down. He’s not rigid, no – you know that any wrong move from Will and he’ll leap up, rush the other man, have him down in three seconds flat. It’s only his jaw that clenches, and you watch him roll it slowly as Will shuts the door with a well-placed kick of his foot.

“This is how we’re gonna do this,” Will says. His voice is right by your ear, and you can’t see him, can’t see what Mike sees that makes him push a slow breath through his nose. “You, Mike, walk out of here. I keep your partner for insurance, and I wait for my ride. When they get here, the two of us take a little trip, and I drop your partner off at a payphone.”

A couple of slow breaths from Mike. You do your best to match them, to think. “What’s the catch?” you ask, and you just know the bastard is smirking.

“Anyone follows, I make sure that there’s nothing about this pretty face you can recognize.”

There’s a pause. There’s a lot of reasons you love Mike. He’s one of the bravest cops you’ve ever known. But that bravery makes him tilt his chin up, makes him look Will dead in the eye.

“No.”

Will growls, jabs the gun deeper into your side. You can feel it pressing into your ribs, right against the bone that a bullet would surely shatter.

“You’re a petty burglar, Will,” he continues, and lets his hands push off of his knees as he rises to his full height. He takes a step towards the both of you, and you feel Will drag you back, lift the gun to point at him.

“Fuck off and get back on the bed. I will shoot –”

But he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. It makes your breath hitch, the way that Will’s arm is now lifted to push against your neck. “We’re Special Victims Unit,” Mike urges him. “You’re not for us. We want the people who rape and kill right after you. You understand?”

“Mike, just go,” you snap, your anger, frustration, fear getting the better of you. But Mike, stubborn asshole that he is, stays firmly planted. He’s not even armed, and yet he stays, arms raising up, eyes steady as he looks at Will. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Mike says to you, watches as the gun presses more firmly against your side. Anyone else would think he was unfazed, but you see the way his jaw twitches at the sight of you so vulnerable. “Let’s talk about this, Will.”

“Talk about what? All your friends surrounding the building as we speak?” he snaps, and you feel the barrel against your skin as your shirt rides up. It makes you wince, the feeling, and Mike’s slow blink is measured.

“They’re not. Let’s talk about what I can do for you.”

You can hear Liv talking in your ear. Of course, they are. In ten this whole block will be cut off. But Mike just smiles, a little small one. “We just need information,” he says. “We don’t need you; we don’t want you. All we want is who you tell about the couples. Who’s the one who hurts them?”

Will’s voice is short. “I don’t know. Now get out.”

Mike doesn’t. “How do you tell them? That these people are vulnerable? That they’re sleeping?”

“Mike –” you try, but Will is talking over you before you can get much more out.

“Get out!”

“Will, you and I both know you do.” Another step, and you can see the gun shaking as Will points it, the tremor in his voice overtaking his attempt to assert any authority. “You know who comes in. Who slashes their throats. Who makes sure they can’t scream while they –”

“Stop!” Will screams, a half-sob.

Everyone goes silent. Mike, Liv, Carisi. Any chatter dies, and your breath stops.

You wait for the shot that doesn’t come.

“Stop.” The gun is back against your side, but it’s held loosely, and it’s not pointed to you. Mike tracks it with his eyes, meets yours, before taking another step. “Stop, I don’t – I don’t know them, okay? They pay me, okay? I send a text, they send me money, and – and I don’t have to do anything –”

Mike’s voice is so, so gentle. “I know. I know, Will. You steal. You take what you need, don’t you? What you can sell. They kill. They murder. You got caught up in the wrong crowd. Let us help you.”

Will’s sobs are hiccupping now, and you can feel the way the gun is trembling against you. He’s nothing like the confident man he plays, now, the façade cracking under the right kind of pressure.

Fear.

“Let us help you. All you have to do is give the gun to me, Will.”

Your eyes are closed now. You can’t watch Mike take those steady steps forward, closer and closer to a loaded pistol. All you can do is take a deep breath in, and out, and in, holding, holding, holding –

The gun drops. You hear its clunk on the carpeted floor, feel the way Mike’s hands grab at your wrist and yank you aside. You’re barely registering Mike’s voice as you gasp for air, hands trembling as they grip your knees and you bend over, trying not to retch.

Fuck.

There’s a commotion. Up the steps. You can hear Liv shouting orders in your ear, and you lift a hand to the comm piece carefully, still heaving a little. “Suspect – suspect detained. Stand down, suspect detained.”

“Are you both all right?” Liv shouts, and you hear the sirens outside. “Tell me you’re both all right. Sergeant, report!”

You’re still trying to catch your breath. “We’re fine, lieutenant. Just. We’ll be down soon.”

When you’re able to stand upright, you turn to see Mike. He’s got Will’s hands behind his back, and when the door flies open Sonny tosses him a pair of handcuffs.

“Sergeant,” he acknowledges, and then his eyes fall on you. “You all right?”

“Fine,” you say. “I’m fine.”

“You need to get checked out,” Mike says immediately, and you feel your brow furrow at him, a glare. He’s looking at you intently, and you feel your jaw clench as you rub your hand over your forehead.

“I’m fine –” you try, feeling your hackles raise at the overprotectiveness for the second time that night. He might be your boss, but you know that this isn’t coming from a sergeant to his detective, and it makes your stomach churn.

But your words are dismissed with his turn back to Sonny. “You’re getting checked out. Are there paramedics down there?”

“There’s an ambulance,” Sonny confirms, but his voice is a little hesitant, looking between the two of you.

“Head down. I’ll handle Will and get him to Liv and Rollins.”

It’s an order, or at the very least sounds like one. You glance at Sonny with a small shake of your head before moving towards him. His hand goes to your shoulder, squeezes it, but you just shake your head again before moving through the halls of the hotel, jogging down the flights you need to before emerging into crisp night air.

They check you out, the paramedics. There’s nothing really wrong, besides the way that your heart rate hasn’t seemed to calm down. So you lean there, on the ambulance, trying some deep breathing to ignore the cool metal you swear is still on your skin.

And then Mike emerges.

He walks Will to the squad car. Loads him up, handcuffed, mournful. He talks with Liv, easy, solemn, and then immediately makes a beeline towards you. You don’t know what to say to him. There’s so much in your head, none of it particularly pleasant. All you see is his eyes widening, his hands up, the way he walks closer after you beg him not to, so clearly ready to risk it all to save you –

Yeah. Great feeling to have that on your conscience.

“What the hell, Mike?” you mutter. The back of the ambulance is cold against your body, and you shiver and wrap the shock blanket around you a little tighter. You’re fine, and you’ll stand by that. “What the hell were you thinking in there?”

You’re just exhausted now. Your bones are weary, and you can still feel the place where the gun was digging into you – it’s not bruised, you’re certain, but that ghost of a gun will linger the rest of the day.

“I was thinking that I needed to get us out of there alive,” he says, and you glance up at him before shaking your head, pulling the blanket tighter. “Are you all right?”

You nod, but it’s small. “Look, you should’ve left me in there. You were guaranteed an out –”

“Neither of us were guaranteed anything. I saw I could talk him down, so I did.”

“And if it’d gone wrong? Mike, you can’t keep throwing yourself into danger, and especially not for –”

“I can make that decision for myself,” he interrupts. Again. And you feel yourself tensing, pushing off of the ambulance to narrow your eyes at him.

“Can I speak, please?” you say. It’s sharp, and it gets his attention. Makes him stand still, lift his chin at you. “You can’t keep doing that. Your life is not expendable. Not for me. Not ever for me.”

“My life isn’t worth much at all if I have to step aside when you’re in danger. It wasn’t about whether or not we’re together, and I wasn’t solely motivated by the fact that I’m your boyfriend.”

“Okay, yes, you’re my – my boyfriend,” you shoot back, and it’s a hiss coming out of your mouth. “But today, in those moments, we’re not dating. You shouldn’t be motivated by that at all. We were undercover – we were cops. You were my sergeant. You have to realize –”

“You surely can’t expect me to just sit back and turn off the fact that I care about you,” Mike scoffs, and you find yourself inching towards the edge of a breaking point.

You throw your hands in the air. The paramedic inside the ambulance almost gets hit in the face as he steps out before you’re pinching your nose, taking a breath in and out. “No, but do you think I could finish a damn sentence?”

His jaw ticks before he relents. “Okay. Fine. Say what you want to say. I’m all ears.”

The two of you are nose to nose, now. Bristling with the exhaustion, the fear, the energy that’s built up and pent up.

“What I wanna say? Fine. You know what I wanna say? It’s that your attitude almost blew this whole thing!” you shout back, and you see Mike’s shoulders tense, the way his breath goes low and slow through his nose. “What the hell were you thinking, going at his throat like that?”

“I was thinking that he was putting his hands on you,” Mike mutters. “What, I can’t look out for you now?”

“Are you kidding?” you retort. You’re incredulous, and you have to force your voice low before speaking again. “It’s an undercover operation. Not the time to suddenly be aware of us. And not exactly a great look for a couple of undercover swingers to be so damn stingy, Dodds.”  

His brow is furrowed deep as he looks at you, breath coming in short huffs, and when he rolls his eyes, it stings. “All right. Well, since it’s so easy for you to forget you have a boyfriend, I’ll stop acting like one. How about that?”

The silence is heavy. It seems to push down on you, from all sides, and you find yourself falling back against the ambulance. His words seem to crash on him once they settle on you, and his whole body slumps.

“I didn’t mean –” he sighs out. He sounds so… defeated, but you just rub your hands over your face as he takes a step closer to you. “You know I –”

“I know what you meant, Mike,” you say, and there’s nothing but exhaustion that bleeds into your tone. “Just. Go see Liv. I’m fine.”

He starts to reach out to you. “Baby…”

“Baby? Nice try.” It’s said with a scoff, and you just pull away, standing tall again and brushing him off. When you move, it’s to walk towards one of the squad cars. “I’ll see you at the precinct, sergeant.”

“Wait – don’t –“

But your steps are quick and focused, to where Liv and Amanda stand. You tell your lieutenant you’ve been cleared, and then you’re free to go. Precinct for paperwork, home for the night, and knowing that Mike won’t dare to be right behind you.

- 

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[niksixx]

Ice Cream

Requested: Nada :D 

Pairing: The Dirt! Tommy Lee x Fem!Reader 

Description: Best friend Tommy comforts you after your boyfriend dumps you

A/N: Reblog, comment, add tags if you wish! Thank you for reading my work. 

Y/E/N: Your Ex’s Name

*GIF is NOT mine. Found on Google. Credit to the owner.* 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He hadn’t even heard it from you.

While Tommy was disappointed Nikki was the first one to hear the news (it was accidental; you’d let it slip), he wouldn’t hold it against you. Y/E/N had been your first real boyfriend, the one you shared all the firsts with. And he never liked the guy, not even a little bit; Tommy never liked any man that had shown you interest because they simply were never good enough for you in his eyes. Tommy would have rather you stayed single to avoid any heartbreak, but the damage was already done after committing yourself to Y/E/N for four years and then being dumped out of the blue. Tommy wanted to do something to defend your honor; Break his nose, take a bat to his car, egg his house, something that would let Y/E/N know he was furious with him and the way he handled the situation. But Nikki had finally brought Tommy back to his senses, and the only thing that mattered was making sure he got to you as quickly as he could.

You didn’t answer the door when he knocked; He was shocked you’d left it unlocked, almost as if you were expecting him. He knew you weren’t, though. Like most people after suffering a broken heart, you just wanted to be left alone. And normally Tommy was good at listening to your wishes and giving you space when you needed it, and while you may have needed time away from reality right now, he knew you’d appreciate him coming to check on you.

In order to check on you though, he had to find you first. Tommy half expected to find you standing in front of the stove. When you were upset, you ate. Probably not the best coping mechanism, but it helped. So when you weren’t in the kitchen as Tommy predicted, he began to worry.

And to his surprise, your bed was empty. The sheets were crinkled, a sign you had laid there. He touches the linen gently, frowning at the thought of you lying alone in bed, wondering why you weren’t good enough. The pillow case is slightly damp from your tears, and Tommy exhales a breath.

A soft cry makes his head swivel toward the bathroom door that’s slightly left ajar. He knocks, announcing himself, before pushing open the door. A piece of his heart breaks off when he sees you lying in the jacuzzi tub, water and bubbles up to your neck, hair messily thrown on top of your head, mascara leaking down your cheeks.

You blink away the tears tiredly, sitting up slowly against the back of the tub. You weren’t expecting company. “What are you doing here, Tommy?”

He offers you a small smile, kneeling by the edge of the tub. He’s not phased by your nudity, although most of your body is shielded by the bubbles from your lavender bubble bath. Being friends for so long, he’s seen it all. “I came to check on you.”

“I’m fine. You can leave.”

“Ouch,” Tommy chuckles, dipping his hand in the water. He flicks a few droplets onto your cheeks. It doesn’t phase you. “I’ll pretend that didn’t hurt.”

“I just want to be alone right now.” Your voice wavers and Tommy shoots you a look.  “But do you? Really?”

Your bottom lip trembles, not thinking twice before throwing your arms around Tommy’s neck, softly whimpering into his shirt. He holds you tight, fingers gliding up and down the wet skin of your back. He doesn’t remember the last time you hugged him so fiercely and with so much passion.

“What did I do wrong, Tommy? After four years, why wasn’t I good enough for him?” He knew you’d blame yourself for the failed relationship. But he hoped you realized later on that you weren’t the problem. “I planned our life together. Everything. From the type of home we’d buy to the kids’ names and even the dogs’ names. And he just left. He walked away like the last four years didn’t mean a damn thing to him. How could he? They meant everything to me. He...meant everything to me.”

Tommy’s never seen you so broken, not even the time he had first left to tour with his band. The cracks in your voice pierce his heart and he’s not sure if anything he can do or say will make a difference. You’re hurt, wounded, and it’ll take time for the tear in your heart to heal.

“I don’t want you for a second thinking it was your fault,” He pulls you back, keeping you at arm's length. Wet mascara is smudged around your eyes and you know you look like a hot mess, but Tommy never cared about any of that stuff. “I’ll be honest Y/N, I didn’t like Y/E/N from the moment you started dating. Thought he was a dick then and he proved it today.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Tommy shrugs. “You were happy. I didn’t want to screw that up for you.”

You couldn’t be mad at Tommy, though it would have been nice to know that your best friend had seen the red flags long ago. Maybe it would have saved you from the immense heartbreak. Or maybe you wouldn’t have believed him, thought he was investing himself in the role of an overprotective best friend, and continued dating Y/E/N anyway. No point in dwelling in the past and on things you couldn’t change.

You scrub a hand over your face, chuckling at all the mascara you cried off. “I’m pathetic, aren’t I?”

“That’s the last thing I’d call you. Hurt, upset, and heartbroken? Definitely. Pathetic? Hardly.” Tommy takes notice of your fingers, now shriveled up like prunes. “But as your best friend, I refuse to let you sit and sulk over a man that never deserved you in the first place. Now get your ass out of the tub because you and I have plans.”

Your brows furrow. “What plans?”

~~~

If there was ever a time where you were most grateful for Tommy’s friendship, it was now. Sitting across from him at a 50s themed diner, a large ice cream sundae was placed between the two of you. He’d let you pick everything from the flavors down to the twenty toppings littered on top.

“You didn’t have to do this you know.” But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t feeling better. What had Tommy said when you pulled up to the diner? Ice cream is the key to mending a broken heart. And while your heart was still raw, processing the range of emotions you’d felt that day, the ice cream was the bandage holding it together from completely falling apart.

“Of course I did,” Tommy responds nonchalantly. “This is what best friends are for, right? I can’t even begin to count all the things you’ve done for me. If I can put a smile on your face simply by taking you out for ice cream then I’m happy, too.”  

It was such a wonder how Tommy was still single. His heart was too good for this world. In all the years you’ve been alive, you’d never come across anymore more kind, gentle, and thoughtful as Tommy. There were so many qualities he possessed that made him the ideal best friend. And maybe once back when you were young teenagers did you consider a relationship between you and the lanky, brownhaired rock drummer, but the thought was fleeting. You loved Tommy, nothing in the world could ever change those feelings, but the love was a friendly love, the kind you never wanted to jeopardize. And Tommy was okay with that, because in his mind, nothing would cause him more pain than losing you.

You pluck a gummy worm from the chocolate ice cream, pointing it in Tommy’s direction. “How did you even know we broke up?”

“Nikki. And I was a bit offended I wasn’t the first to know,” Tommy snickers around a mouthful of strawberry ice cream. He digs into the sundae with his fingers, pulling out a blue M&M, and tosses it right at your forehead. “That’s for not telling me.”

“Hey!” You swat him with the gummy worm. Tommy laughs heartily. “I didn’t even mean to tell Nikki. It slipped out! I called him to figure out where you were since I called three times and you didn’t answer.”

Tommy purses his lips when you raise a brow. “Ah. You called when my phone was dead.”

Your laughs are heard around the diner and a few waiters give you a hard look, but it’s the first time you smiled all day and felt something other than heartbreak. “You never fail to make me laugh, Tommy Lee.” Reaching across the table, you lace your fingers with his. “I hope you make me laugh forever and take me on all the ice cream dates when I’m sad.” You shoot a dramatic wink his way, chuckling to yourself when he brings your hand to his lips to lightly kiss your knuckles. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make you happy. I’d buy all the ice cream in the world if it made you smile.”

[cotncandyboifics]

1989 [High School AU]: Chapter 9

AO3 Link

Masterpost

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6 ~ Chapter 7 ~ Chapter 8 ~

Pairings: slight Logince, eventual Prinxiety & Logicality

Word count: 2,043

Story summary: Roman Prince is your stereotypical Jock, with everyone swooning after him. Every day a crowd of people follow him around, only to disperse at his personal whim. In reality, he's lucky to have such good acting skills that help him cover up the disdain he has for his life. He only wishes he could use his skills properly.

Patton Whitelock's always there to lend a helping hand, no matter who you are. If you need a favor or just need someone to talk to, go to him. In reality, he's been taught from a young age that kindness should be held above all else. No one suspects that he took it the wrong way.

Logan Montgomery is the smartest boy in the Senior class. He's stern, and most people are too intimidated to speak to him. In reality, he despises most all of his fellow students. He sticks to his studies and doesn't stray, for fear of being stuck in his father's shadow his whole life.

Virgil Black is the most emo kid in school, let alone 12th grade; everyone knows to leave him be. In reality, he's very fortunate. He has two parents who love him dearly. But everything beyond his life, everything within his mind, is utter chaos and turmoil.

what will happen when they're assigned a biology project together?

General CW: food, swearing, implied s-lf h-rm, non-graphic descriptions of s-lf h-rm scars, graphic and non-graphic descriptions of anxiety attacks and panic attacks, drug abuse, minor character intoxicated on heroin, non-graphic drug overdose description, sickness/description of sickness, blood, non-graphic descriptions of needles, (will be added to as I write more)

Chapter CW: swearing, food/meal mention, (let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: the massive amounts of gay panic. this chapter was fun to write

...

Roman returned to find his room far less lively. The tall nerd and the short puffball have seemingly disappeared! Of course Roman knew they'd likely just gone home, but what fun is life without a little exciting drama?

The only one left was Virgil, who was curled in on himself on Roman's bed, a pillow in his lap and phone in his hands yet again. Roman sighed dramatically, sprawling out beside his darkly dressed counterpart.

"Is this what they meant when they said 'get a room?'" He commented after a long boring silence, waggling his eyebrows when Virgil looked at him with wide eyes.

"Oh shut up," Virgil looked away, slamming his pillow into Roman's face in a fit of deja-vu.

"Oh come on! Look up the word joke in the dictionary, Jack Smellington!" Roman said exasperatedly. Virgil shook out his luminescent hair, which was now out of his hood and proudly on display. Roman couldn't convince himself to look away.

"As much as I appreciate being compared to one of my favorite Disney characters, that was a bit- what?" Virgil looked at him confusedly, and that's what finally got Roman to look away.

"Nothing." He said shortly. He considered apologizing, but he figured that would make him look worse. Virgil just laughed lightly, not awkwardly. Mostly to himself about Roman's dorkiness. Roman felt his face heat up, and hated himself for it.

"Well, I should probably get home..." Virgil flopped back onto Roman's bed, stretching his arms out above his head. his shirt lifted slightly to follow, and Roman caught a glimpse of his navel, as well as some impressively sharp hip bones, and the very gentle start of a V-line. He forced himself to look away that time. Getting caught looking at someone's hair is one thing, but... but that, was something else entirely. Roman was already in dangerous waters, and he knew it.

"Ehem, well, I know you denied me last time," Roman began, flopping down beside Virgil and looking up at his pride flag, "but the offer of a ride is still up for grabs. Unless you'd rather be stuck on the bus at night for half an hour." Roman crossed his arms over his chest, and Virgil sat up to lean over him. He nearly opted to retort and deny the offer more snarkily than last time's failed attempt, but...

Roman's eyes. He'd never been close enough and calm enough simultaneously to really look at them; they were a deep melted milk chocolate brown, and held nearly imperceptible flecks of shining red. Virgil's eyebrows knit together, and he leaned closer to look into Roman's eyes more properly.

He didn't realize what he'd done until he'd started to reach down, almost putting his hand on Roman's cheek, and Roman made a small squealing noise to go with his completely tomatoed face. Virgil gasped slightly louder than he'd meant to and immediately recoiled.

"Shit, sorry, I just..." he considered shutting his ridiculous mouth and trying to move on, but he figured he couldn't leave that one without some kind of excuse. "I just haven't really looked at your eyes before. Not like, really, I mean. They're... nice. I like the little red bits." His voice grew much quieter as he spoke. He was facing away from Roman, and thank god, because if Roman could see his face he'd see peach-colored cheeks and a childish smile. And how very uncharacteristic of Virgil that would be.

"Thanks," Roman finally managed to huff. He stood slowly, trying to gather himself, and walked over to his desk, grabbing his car keys. He jangled them in his fingers, raising his eyebrows and silently asking Virgil if he'd take him up on the ride offer. Virgil, who had barely managed to discipline his face before Roman turned to him, just smiled very slightly and nodded.

Virgil grabbed his backpack, and Roman led the way from his room and out the front door to his ridiculous shiny-red mustang, which happened to have white racer stripes. Virgil thought this was pretty funny, but kept a sarcastic tease to himself for once in his life.

Virgil texted Roman his address from the passenger seat. While the bus ride to Virgil's house from Roman's was about 20-30 minutes, the car ride was less than 10. Roman considered putting on some music, but decided against it, considering what happened the last time they were alone with just music and each other. What the heckity heck is happening here?  When I imagine... love... this is what comes to mind. He cringed at himself, surprised and disgusted that he was admitting that. This doesn't feel the same as it does with Logan though... so then, maybe I truly love Logan, and Virgil just inexplicably makes my heart flutter? Of course, the only other possibility is so much worse-

Roman's thoughts were interrupted by Virgil shouting "RED LIGHT!!!" very suddenly, and Roman slammed the breaks.

"Jesus Princey, are you trying to kill me!? Is that why you were so hell-bent on driving me home??" Virgil's voice was mostly panic, but laced with some half-hearted sarcasm. He clearly had more panic and less sarcasm in it than he'd meant to. He was holding onto his seat and the door beside him for dear life, looking at Roman with wide eyes, his chest heaving comically. Roman was too dazed to laugh.

"Shit, I'm sorry," He looked up at the street light, which was in fact red. "I got lost in thought for a minute. I won't let it happen again while I'm responsible for you. My deepest apologies." Roman would have normally faux bowed and reached out for Virgil's hand to kiss his knuckles, but unfortunately Virgil was making him feel... well, bitterly jittery and not very glittery. Or maybe, too glittery. He didn't know anymore; all he knew is he had to leave his thoughts for when he got Virgil and then himself home safe.

"Lost in thought?" Virgil let that little comment slip sooner than he could corral himself, and almost brought his hand to cover his mouth, but far too late. Roman just looked at him anxiously, sighing.

"Yeah. I guess so." Roman wasn't normally this dismissive, and Virgil knew far better at this point than to press.

Before they were even on Virgil's street, he broke their awkward silence with an extremely unexpected "thanks for driving me home, Ro. You didn't have to, and I really appreciate it."

Roman was shaken to the core, partially by Virgil's sincerity and partially by the nickname. "Oh, uh, well, no need to thank me now. I nearly killed you once, and you aren't safe and sound at your destination just yet." He smiled softly over at the taller emo. Virgil just returned the smile.

A few moments later came a quiet "really though." Virgil's capacity for sincerity wasn't very extensive, and if anyone knew that it was Roman. He felt a blush creeping up his neck, and couldn't think of a good response.

Finally Roman turned onto Virgil's street, adhering to the 10 mph speed limit. He cruised to a stop in front of... what was apparently Virgil's house.

It wasn't what Roman was expecting at all. Not that his... notion, that Virgil's house looked something like Gru's house from Despicable Me, was something he thought was realistic. He just hadn't known how else to imagine it. Instead of anything close to dark and sinister, the outer walls were made of some gentle tan planks all stacked horizontally. There was a light turquoise front door with a rounded top, and to its left a large window covered most of the street-facing wall. In the window, Roman could see a round inviting table with a mother, a father and a young boy sharing dinner, all smiling and seemingly caught up in their nightly banter. They were all laughing and seemed so... happy. The house itself seemed to emanate a calm happiness.

"Is this...?" Roman gestured vaguely toward the house with the address Virgil had given him.

"Yep. There's my parents, and my brother. I guess I just missed the start of dinner." Virgil reached down between his ankles to grab his bag.

"Talk about clashing aesthetics." Roman smiled mischievously at Virgil, hoping to lighten the mood without sounding like a complete jerk, at least.

Virgil caught onto this, looking over and offering him a breathy laugh. "I know. It's almost a crime for me to live here."

Roman giggled, and they found themselves stuck looking into each other's eyes once again.

"W-well, I'd better-" Virgil turned and made to open his door, but something possessed Roman to lean over to Virgil and grab his shirt, accidentally pulling him far too close to his face. They both yelped simultaneously at the close proximity, and Virgil leapt back as far as his seat would allow him, grabbing it similarly to how he'd done when Roman had nearly driven through the red light earlier.

Virgil almost said something, but some noise outside stopped him. He turned to seek its source, giving Roman a view past him as well.

"Virgil, honey, is that you?" his mom called from the doorstep. She held Atticus on her hip, and Virgil's dad towered behind them in the doorway. all of them were waving. Virgil waved back deftly, and opened the car door. He turned to Roman once again, who looked as though someone had just stomped on his heart and twisted their foot viciously.

Virgil couldn't bring himself to smile at him, but offered instead something he hoped sounded kind. "See you in class tomorrow. And... thanks again for the ride."

With that, Virgil got out and shut the door behind him, and Roman watched as he reunited with his picture perfect family, unable to move for some god forsaken reason.

"Is that one of your friends from that biology project, Virgil? He's so cute!" Roman could hear Virgil's mom squeal at her approaching son.

"Mom, leave it be, will you? he's-" Virgil's voice was cut off as their front door was shut. Roman eventually managed to take a single deep breath.

He twisted in his seat to face forward again, gripping the steering wheel with whitening knuckles and staring blankly at the mustang logo in the wheel's center. What. Was. That.

...

Roman's ride home was fast. At least, it felt much faster than the ride to Virgil's house. He didn't come close to running any more red lights, and before he knew it he was twisting the keys out of the ignition and then stepping through his front door.

He couldn't shake the daze that was clouding all of his senses. He wasn't intercepted by either of his parents on his route from the front door to his bedroom, so there was nothing to distract him from his... distractedness. He flopped onto his bed, laying on his back the same way he'd done less than half an hour ago when Virgil had almost...

That's when the haziness suddenly sped up, and the fog in Roman's brain rapidly became a hurricane. He was so confused by his own feelings that he had to squeeze his eyes shut to will away a sob. He didn't know what he was doing anymore. He pushed the palms of his hands against his closed eyelids, trying to distract himself with the aching pain and sparkling stars they brought to his eyes.

Meanwhile, Virgil had eaten dinner, thankfully and willingly accepting the pleasant distraction of his family's company. His mom was an excellent cook, and Atticus was extra animated about the stories of his adventures at school that day. He and his best friend had apparently played by the creek during recess, and found a tadpole to poke and prod. Virgil found his brother very endearing when he told his stories.

However, as all things are, his distraction was only temporary. Soon he found himself having finished the washing up after dinner and slowly trudging his way up the stairs to his room. The moment he shut his door behind him, all of the feelings that had been kept down since he'd gotten out of Roman's car crashed into him like a 20 foot wave. He leaned back against the shut door, sinking down to sit on the floor and hold his knees.

Roman and Virgil, clueless of each other, had the exact same thought at the exact same time.

Fuck. Why do I feel this way?

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Narrow Beds

Oh, it’s been awhile ... fingers creaked as I began to type ... brain hurt trying to remember words ... I have forgotten how much I love to write over the last few months but I think I will begin again ... 

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&

He really should have obeyed more traffic laws getting to the house but he didn’t: thought he saw a cop, began immediately planning alternate route hairpin turns and concocted stories of plunder and raze but in the end, it was just a car with two old ladies and a penchant for drinking their coffee in a parked vehicle as opposed to speeding precariously on the highway.

Regardless, he arrived without incident and knocking on Maggie Scully’s door, fiddled with the keys in his hand until the front door opened up, “Fox. That was quick.”

Desperate to grab her by the arms and ask, in that panicked tone he tried not to let anyone know he had, where Scully was, he instead held himself in check, jamming hands in pockets and rocking on his feet no more than two inches back and forth, “I didn’t catch any red lights.”

Mama Scully half-wondered if he’d driven on the sidewalks part of the way but keeping the traffic lecture to herself, she stepped aside, gesturing towards the steps, “she came in, said ‘I’m fine’ and disappeared upstairs.” Reaching for his elbow, she touched it lightly, “what happened?”

Normally she didn’t ask, knowing their history of diluting the horrors of their day for her benefit, but the look on her daughter’s face when she’d brushed past had her calling Mulder before she heard the bedroom door shut.

He’d been in the car on his way to Scully’s so a detour hadn’t been difficult: two lefts, one right at ‘Oops, I cut it again’ salon and minutes later, he was here.

Fourteen to be exact.

But who was really keeping track.

“We had a bad case. I asked about dinner but she said she just needed a bath and a nap.” Pointing up the stairs to move things along, “she in her old room?”

“Yeah. Thank you, Fox.” Watching his already retreating form, “let me know if you need anything.”

All she got was a wave over his shoulder.

It was enough.

&&&&&&&&&

Having been to her childhood room several times, he knew which door would lead him there instead of the bathroom and knocking lightly, he waited, listening for acceptance or denial of his request.

Instead he got, “I’m fine.”

Opening the door slowly, “you are a big, fat liar.”

She didn’t even flinch at the intrusion that wasn’t her mom, instead simply half-rolling towards him, hands crossed on her stomach, “mom wouldn’t have known that.”

“Your mom is the least dumb person we have ever met. It was your first, ‘I’m fine’ that made her call me and ask what the hell was wrong.”

Instead of denial and irritation at his implication that her world was not all peachy-keen, she stared at him for a long moment, looking from his rumpled t-shirt to his tired eyes, biting her bottom lip in debate and then in resignation at asking for the only thing in the world she wanted at the moment , “are you wearing your shoes?”

Taking the question in stride, “no. I left them downstairs by the door. Why?”

“Because mom doesn’t like shoes on the bed.” Scooting as close to the wall as she could, given she was an adult in a single bed, “would you mind shutting the door and laying down with me, please?”

Shutting as ordered, he maneuvered, with maximum confusion and minimal jostling, to lay behind her on the narrow mattress, “I have forgotten, in my adult years, how much I have grown in relation to my childhood.”

Practically smushed against the wall, she felt an almost-need to try to smile but the mood passed instantly, morose overtaking with lightning speed, “you know, the last person in this bed with me was Melissa; a few weeks before she left for college.”

Not sure where to put his arm, he held it awkwardly against his side, wondering with every passing moment if taking a deep breath would send himself crashing to the floor, “she was decidedly less …” wiggling slightly, his jeans twisted around his knees, “hulking than me.”

The only thing keeping her nose from pressing against the wall was her hand, “she was definitely smaller than you, I won’t argue.”

He’d shared a bed with her before, well, not so much a bed as a quiet corner in some snowed-in airport outside Fargo but whatever.

At least this time, he had the option of covers if necessary.

If only half his body wasn’t hanging off the side of the mattress.

He gave up.

“I’m coming closer.”

For one bless-ed moment, she forgot her churning black cloud in favor of wonderment, “Is that even possible?”

“Hopefully.” Sliding eight millimeters at best, he was now pressed solidly against her from upper chest to ankle, “much better.”

And for some reason, it was the extra warmth, the simultaneous heartbeats, the overwhelming air of another’s existence so close to hers, that made her crumble.

He heard the walls fall, crashing in voided silence and arm be damned, he moved it from himself to her, hand slipping beneath her elbow to rest on her belly, mouth moving as close to her neck as his nose would allow, “it wasn’t our fault.”

“It’s always our fault, Mulder. Every time we go out the door, it’s our fault.”

Moving enough so it was his forehead resting against the back of her head and not his nose, he found himself staring down at the minor flaw in her otherwise perfect neck, “we didn’t know. I didn’t know and you sure as hell didn’t know.”

“Nobody knows anything ahead of time, Mulder but if I had just waited a quarter of a second, a blink of a fucking eye, I would have noticed him. At the academy, the first thing they tell you about handling a gun is always know what’s behind your target. You look behind the damned target before you shoot.”

“No one, not even … shit, not even Superman and his super peepers … would have noticed Jamison under that table. It was pitch black down there. We were doing our job. We did our job and now it’s done and we’re home and jammed into this bed and it wasn’t your fault.” Emphasizing his point, he, for a brief moment, tightened his arm, sinking into cotton-covered stomach, “it wasn’t your fault.” He felt her muscles tighten, knowing full well she was trying to sit up, turn to him, argue his reasoning and he stopped her, quietly, his words drifting over her shoulder, “if you make me fall off this bed with all your arm flailing and point making, I am taking you with me which will just bring your mom up here and then you’ll get in trouble for having a boy in your bed.”

Tensed but debating, she settled back down, logic winning for the shortest possible moment, movement stilled but voice quavering, “I shot and killed a man. Somebody’s husband, Mulder, somebody’s son, somebody’s father. How do I justify that with a simply phrase of ‘it wasn’t my fault’?” Cracking words, her breath hitched violently, chest jumping, abdomen contracting with the effort of not wailing at the top of her lungs, “it was my fault, Mulder. He was hiding under a table. He’d managed to free himself and in trying to escape, heard the raid, crawled under a table and for all his efforts, he died anyway.”

Her last words trailed in a sob and Mulder, ignoring wedged-in bed etiquette, sat up as best he could, wiggled his arm under her neck and finally holding her from both sides, hugged her, kissing each bump of her spine from hairline to neckline, knowing it was time for him to be quiet, to listen, to ache for her.

And when it was time to hold the edge of the mattress as she tried to move closer. Needing any and all leverage he could get to stay on the bed, he simultaneously vee’d his knees, pushing hers forward as well, accidentally-on-purpose spooning to the best of his ability.

She didn’t argue, burrowing into her cocoon of Mulder-heat, vaguely wondering, as the tears flowed out of her and consequently onto him, if it would be, while not scientifically likely, metaphorically possible to crawl inside him, live there protected from the world, for the next few seconds to several hundred years of their combined life.

Choosing to focus on that rather than the harsh reality of now, it still took quite a while for her tears to taper off. Feeling her heart slow its rat-a-tat pace, she whispered into the crook of his elbow, “how do I get through this?”

“Just like we are now. You hold me, I hold you; tomorrow, we do it again.”

It was only now that she began to register how cramped they were, how un-professional they were, how perfect they were, at this very moment and doing a most un-Scully like thing, she let herself sink into the moment, “We should probably find a bigger bed then.”

Hearing just a little of the humor he loved, he chuckled once against her, repositioning his head, deciding both would benefit from a little nap, “I’m not worried about it right now.”

Finding his hand, she ran fingers over crooked knuckles, as close to a handhold as she could manage at the moment, “I wonder if I’ll get grounded if mom finds you here in the morning?”

Already headed to dreamland and taking her with him, “I think we should find out.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Myth: falling asleep.

Fact: waking up.

Confusion: setting in quickly.

Resolution: someone was mumbling beside him.

Follow-through: Once he’d realized he was indeed awake and for some reason in a bed that was seven to eight times too small for two people, he carefully rolled to his side, creating a precious hands-width of space between him and the mumbler.

About to ask if she was alright, he instead, being the terrible person that he was, eavesdropped.

Because … just … because.

And all he heard was a shopping list.

Sleeping next to him and she dreams of chocolate chips and bacon.

He couldn’t help his smile.

Then she hit ‘lube’ and ‘batteries’ and his interest sky-rocketed.

His smile widened.

Oil change and toilet paper should have bought him back to Earth but it didn’t and he listened to her talk another few moments before silence settled again in the time-locked room.

Continuing to stare at her and the dark grey wall behind her instead of going back to sleep, he began thinking in Mulder-type fits and spurts about time and space and awareness and his infinitesimally small space in the universe.

Did the universe still exist outside the room?

Had he been granted his desire to wake beside her only to have the rest of existence forget about them and consequently, forget about existence in the process?

What if Scully’s God had raptured the world and left them behind, alone but together?

Outside the door could be nothing, a vast void of blackness stretching out beyond infinity?

He wasn’t supposed to be here. This was just a rest stop between today and tomorrow. He ought to have been at home on his couch, comfortably hugged by warm leather and soft cotton.

Instead, he was in some weirdly light, hollow, empty, anticipating place.

He could feel the room around him. Everything in it, except him, resting their weary constructs: dust motes, drafts, deliciously warm partners. It unsettled him. This was the snowed in airport at 3am when he had to get up to go to the bathroom and fought it because the empty, dim hallways made his heart beat faster and put him on an edge he didn’t enjoy.

“Scully?”

Another mumble and what he would describe as a weirdly purring throat noise, later, she opened one eye in his direction, “trash bags.”

Another soul awake. Aware. He took a deep breath but continued his whispering, “I’ll add it to the list.”

Finally grasping some sort of faculties, she opened the other eye, brought him into focus as best she could, “why are you in bed with me?”

“You invited me here, remember?”

It took a second to recall but she got there and the smile desperate to cross her lips showed itself at the corners of her mouth but she didn’t let it win, “oh yeah.” Pausing for deep breath, she shut her eyes again, stretching as best she could and very narrowly using him as a full-body pillow in her quest for more sleep, “why did you wake me up?”

“Because I’m an adult freaking out about the dark and infinity and weird spaces where time doesn’t seem to exist and frankly, I’m worried that we are the only two people left in the universe and that we are floating in an utter blackness void even of stars and …”

He stopped because her hand was now covering his mouth, “Mulder … I swear to you. Outside is still outside.”

Talking through her hand, “Then why do I feel so strange? This never happens when I wake up at my own place in the middle of the night.”

Knowing sleep was now officially at least a few minutes away, she removed her hand but kept her eyes shut, thinking that if sleep accidently floated by, she could catch it, “you, my friend, are caught in a ‘liminal space’”

Liminal space. He felt he should remember that from somewhere but his 2am still spiralling mind couldn’t organize, “what?”

“I will be writing this down as the day I knew something you didn’t. Remind me to play the lottery later.”

Smart-ass-ness was starkly evident this later/early in the day but he liked her so he didn’t tell her about the ‘lube’ comment, “this isn’t helpful.”

“Sorry.” Finally looking at him, eyes dilating wide in the dark, “liminal spaces are kind of like waiting areas between one thing and the next. After one point in time and space and before the other.”

He was remembering now, “where magic happens and anything is possible.”

“Or where you begin to doubt universal existence and are afraid of the dark.”

“I am not afraid of the dark.”

She really hadn’t meant it to sound like it did and in apology, she rested a finger in the dimple on his chin, “I know. I just meant … when I was a kid, I’d wake up just like you and wonder if mom and dad were still in their beds. If Missy and Bill and Charlie were going to be at breakfast the next morning or had the darkness snatched them away?”

“But I’m an adult and I know better.”

“No one knows better at 3am or whatever the hell time it is.” Figuring the best way to fix this was to show him and she struggled to sit up, she accepted an assistance shove from her Mulder, “come on. We’re going downstairs.”

Now he was just starting to feel silly and for Mulder to feel silly required quite a bit of silliness, “it’s okay. We should probably just go back to sleep.”

“No.” Taking his hand and tugging until he was standing beside her, thankful for socks against the chilly floor, “I want to show you something.”

Giving in because she was her, he followed, inaudible sigh of relief he would never admit to once the bedroom door was open and he saw that, indeed, the rest of the house still stood. Shuffling across wood floor and creeping down the stairs, avoiding, under Scully’s direction, the creaky seventh step, she took him to the couch, pushing on his chest lightly to get him to sit. Once settled, several afghans piled over their legs, he waited as long as he could before asking, “what are we doing?”

“We are learning to love liminal spaces.”

“We are?”

“Yeah.” Quiet for another moment to gather her explanation, “we are witnessing timelessness. Enjoy it.”

So he sat, hand in hers, until he mused, half to himself, “liminal spaces should be an X-File.”

“No. I’m not letting you file these away. I have fallen in love with them and don’t want them categorized and easily referenced. They are meant to be discovered by accident and left alone when done.”

Sliding somewhat down the cushions to rest his head against the back of the couch, “do these spaces make you feel better?”

Knowing the question behind the question, “this space is making me feel better right now. It was still my fault but I think I’ll have to accept it and move on.” Matching his slide, she went one better and shifted her head to lean on his shoulder, “how are you feeling?”

“Better about the universe and about liminal magic.”

“Liminal magic?”

Turning his head, he first kissed her forehead, then shifted enough to brush his lips against hers, impulsive and unassuming, “that right there was liminal magic.”

With a smile, she let her hand drift to his knee, then his thigh, squeezing before coming to a rest slightly higher than strictly friends defined, “shush.”

“Shushing now.”

&&&&&&&&&

Maggie found them prone on the couch the next morning, smushed together on something even more narrow than the bed they’d occupied earlier. Scully, true to form, using him as a pillow while he held onto her dear life, fearful even in sleep of falling to the ground and leaving her behind.

It was then that she knew her daughter’s answer of ‘I’m fine’ later on would be a genuine one and moving to the kitchen, she decided chocolate chip waffles and bacon would be the order of the day. 

[dothwrites]

15.07 coda--where no words abide

Sometimes, the things that are felt the most are expressed between two souls over the distance and over time...where no words abide. And others may speak freely, live with one another freely, express themselves freely--just like everyone else, but then there is you...you have no words for proof of reassurance, no tokens of professed love, but you have something. Something worth keeping.--C. Joybell C.  

---

Dean burns the bar. 

Dumps tequila and whiskey and gin and rum and whatever other rotgut he finds behind the counter over the floors, the pool tables, the bar itself, the walls--He splashes alcohol over Lee, carefully not looking at his face, at--

Dean swallows down his disgust, his rage, his grief. He pushes it down into the seething mass of his stomach and walks towards the exit. At the door, he turns around. If he turns his head just the right way, he can see the dark lump of Lee huddled against one of the pillars. Dean turns his head the other way before he flicks his lighter. 

He tosses it into the room and leaves as the wave of heat slaps him across the face. He walks away to the sound of flames licking against the walls. 

He puts the burning building in his rearview and he never looks back. 

On his way out of town, he glances at his cellphone. When he sees that Cas called, his heart does a sick little lurch and jump. He fumbles several times over the screen before his thumb swipes at the message. 

When he hears what’s in the message, his foot presses down on the gas pedal until the tires are squealing against the asphalt. 

---

He drives straight through the evening and into the night until his tires crunch over the gravel outside the bunker. His mind is churning with the sound of Cas’ voice on his phone, his words Sam is hurt and then the more desperate, angrier, Where ARE you. The sound of three missed calls spurs him onward, because Cas can never just answer his damn phone, because apparently it’s fine when Dean calls Cas and Cas doesn’t answer, but heaven forbid Cas call Dean and not get an immediate answer. 

It’s a small, mean thought, brought on by fear and helplessness, and the knowledge that there’s still a little smear of Lee’s blood ground into the skin of his thumb. Dean grits his teeth and pushes on and when he gets to the bunker, his heart does a little skip-thump when he recognizes Castiel’s truck parked outside. 

He drives faster than the recommended into the garage and parks the Impala crooked. Grabbing his duffel, he hurries through the hallway into the war room. The sight of movement is enough to make him jog the last few steps until he bursts into the room to find--

Cas looks up at him, eyes wide and startled. Dean thought that his heart did a weird little lurch when he saw Cas’ name in his phone and truck in the driveway, but it’s nothing compared to what’s happening now, his heart is dancing a damn tango against his lungs and ribs and he’s powerless to stop it, he’s caught in the riptide of Cas, back in the bunker, Cas, back where he belongs--

“Dean,” Cas says. At the sound of Cas’ voice smoothing over the letters of his name, something in Dean’s chest shatters. Cas’ voice is unfathomable, soft and bitter and unreadable. 

For weeks, Dean’s practiced what he would say to Cas. In the quiet moments between cases, in the solitude of his room or the shower, in the ceaseless churn of his tires against pavement, he’s confronted Cas thousands of times. Sometimes he’s angry, sometimes he’s desperate. Most of the time he begs Cas to stay. Sometimes, in his fantasies, Cas even says yes. 

But for all those scenarios, Dean forgets how words work when confronted with the reality of Cas in front of him, the glory of seeing the impossible become possible. He gropes for something, anything to say, and can only come up with, “Sam. Is he, uh...” 

 “He’s fine,” Cas says, too quickly, his eyes darting around the room at anywhere except Dean. 

A chasm opens up in Dean’s chest, wide as ocean, wide as the table that separates him and Cas, wide as the years that separate them, wide as the span of his fingers that want to reach out and clutch the tails of Cas’ coat. 

A sigh of relief blows out of Dean, the ever-present clamoring of Take care of Sammy, Take care of Sammy appeased. Something complicated passes over Cas’ face when Dean says, “Good, that’s good,” except Dean doesn’t see what it is since Cas is already turning away from him. 

“Yeah,” Cas says, already moving, always moving away. Ten years and Cas has never stopped moving away, has never stopped walking out of all the doors in Dean’s life. By now, Dean is so familiar with the sight of Cas disappearing out of doorways, that he sees it in his sleep. 

“Good,” Dean breathes, past the pained twist in his chest. “Good.” 

---

Dean is back. Castiel thought that he was prepared. 

He was not. 

He thought that he had managed to exorcise Dean Winchester out of him, the same way that humans used to burn out fevers, the same way that addicts sweat through withdrawals, but all it took was one look, one short conversation and Castiel realizes that Dean Winchester is a fever he can’t sweat out, the worst kind of drug. He’ll never be able to scour Dean Winchester out of him, never be able to clean out all the fingerprints that Dean has left on him. 

He can feel Dean’s eyes on him, the swift brush of his gaze, but Castiel keeps his eyes firmly fixed on Sam, on the ground, on the wall--on anything except for Dean. Dean is the moon and Castiel is the tide, pulled by his relentless whim, but he can’t...He can’t. 

It’s a flimsy plan, but it’s still a plan, and Castiel allows himself to imagine what it would be like, for just a moment--To be cut free, set adrift. Untethered from all his connections. There’s a wild sort of joy in the thought as well as a desperate sort of despair. 

Castiel doesn’t want to be alone, but he doesn’t see a way in which he gets to reclaim what he’s lost. That door was slammed shut, the key thrown away, the way back lost. That idyllic future, whatever it might have been, was erased, sure as footprints on the beach.  

He walks out of the infirmary, head like a tornado. He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice Eileen running after him until her fingers close around his elbow. “Are you ok?” she asks. 

Not for the first time, Castiel wonders at the innate kindness of some humans, the selfless urge that sends them running after people they only met mere hours before. 

“I’m fine,” Castiel answers, wondering if he’s ever been fine, if he’ll ever be fine. Hard-pressed, he can’t come up with a definitive version of what the word fine truly means. “I just need--” He waves his hand in a gesture meant to encompass the world. 

“Ok.” Eileen’s face is a roadmap of doubt, but she releases him. Castiel walks away from her, into the solitude of his room. 

He sinks onto the bed, hands gripping his knees. If he could burn Dean Winchester out of him then he would, but he’s addicted, he’s hopeless. He has been ever since the first time his grace spanned across the realms to brush against Dean Winchester’s soul. 

---

Unable to sleep, Dean wanders through the bunker. He’d tried, he really had, but every time his eyes drifted shut, all he could see was Lee’s face, twisted in pain as Dean shoved the broken pool cue into his stomach. Or worse, Lee’s face back when he was still a fresh-faced youth with sparkling eyes and a grin that beckoned the devil himself to dance. 

Dean had almost loved him once. 

He’d never been able to take that final step, never been able to cross the space between possibility and probability. Under John Winchester’s eyes, the possibility had withered, until all that was left was the empty space of might have been and the vague regret of the road not taken. 

There had been the nights, fueled by too much beer, too many hormones, and too much adrenaline, where he and Lee had mapped out the contours of each other’s mouths, where Dean had discovered that he loved the feel of fingers twisting in his hair, nights that had left him with stubble burn on his chin and his lips swollen and raw. 

And it had never turned into more, because...Because...

Dean moves down the hallway without conscious thought, only the memory of Lee’s mouth on his and Lee’s empty, staring eyes, to fuel him. How many things has he lost because he was willing to just let slip by? What opportunities have slipped through his fingers? 

What might he have become if he hadn’t had Sam and Cas all these years? Lee is the road not taken, the divergent path in the woods--We Are, Cas said, when Dean asked what was real. Why do you care so much? Lee asked, and somehow, those two things are related in his mind. 

Dean cares. He cares so goddamn much that sometimes he thinks that he might rip apart from the agony of it. He cares about Sam, about Eileen, about the weird little extended family he’s managed to build. He cares about the people that he’s lost, the family that he’s watched burn into nothing. He cares about the civilians that they save and the ones that he doesn’t. He cares about the bad calls that he’s made, he cares about the roads that he might have walked down. 

He cares about Cas. 

It’s more than that of course; it always is when it comes to Cas. For the first time in weeks, Dean acknowledges that, allows himself to really feel it, as he stands outside Cas’ door and raps his knuckles against the door. 

There’s a pause after Dean drops his hand down to his side. Years of hunting allow him to hear the soft sounds of a body shuffling inside, the moment when a body makes a decision. The doorknob creaks as Cas opens the door. 

And once again, Dean forgets how to speak, forgets how to form words, because now he’s looking at a Cas dressed in sweatpants that are slung a little too low on his hips and a t-shirt that stretches just a little too tight across his chest. His socked feet shuffle as his eyes look beyond Dean. 

“What?” Cas asks flatly. His jaw is set, immovable and eternal, but Dean won’t let that stop him. He can’t. Why do you care? Lee asked, and Dean couldn’t pretend any more that he didn’t care, that he didn’t feel everything deep and personal and godawful painful. 

“Can I...Can I talk to you?” 

For a wild moment, Dean thinks that Cas is going to slam the door in his face. He sees the jump in Cas’ jaw when he considers it, the flex of his fingers on the door. Then, without a word, Cas steps backward, allowing Dean into his room. 

Dean’s eyes dart around the space, taking in the little details, the tiny stamps of Cas’ personality on the blank space. One shelf has dozens of rocks on it, worn smooth by time and Cas’ thumb scraping over the surface. Cas’ coat is slung over a chair, along with his suit jacket. His shoes are stacked haphazardly near the door. 

“So what is this, casual Friday?” Dean asks, when the silence between them stretches into crushing. 

Cas doesn’t answer as he retreats to the opposite side of the bed. Always something between them, every single time--the Apocalypse, Purgatory, Leviathans, angels, Lucifer, Jack, Michael--always something there, as desperate as the end of the world, as simple as a bed. 

“What did you want?” Cas finally asked. Now that he’s looking for it, Dean hears the thin tinge of exhaustion in Cas’ voice, sees the shadows underneath his eyes. There’s weariness in the way that his fingers pick at the blanket, frailty in the tiny holes around the collar of his shirt. 

“I...” It would be so easy to give up. To retreat, to let whatever the fuck this is between him and Cas wither into nothing. To watch another road disappear in his rearview, to close the door on yet another opportunity. All he has to do is leave. All he has to do is keep quiet. 

Why do you care so much? 

“It’s not your fault,” Dean blurts. 

His eyes are on Cas’ face, so he catches every second of his reaction--the startle, the widening of his eyes, the convulsive twist of his fingers in the blankets. He sees the intensity of Cas’ stare as it focuses on the bedspread, watches the tension put his spine into a ramrod position. 

“You...you’ve been there for Sam and me when no one else was, and if you’ve messed up...Well, it’s no more than either of us have done. You’ve always tried Cas. Every single time, you’ve always been trying to help us, to do the right thing.” Forty years well up in Dean’s chest, nights on the beach spent with the possibility hanging heavy on him, his father’s disapproving stare, years of walking away from what he wanted, years of watching Cas walk away from him. Years of pushing away the probability. years of swallowed words. They push up in him, until he’s coming out with--

“It’s why I love you.” 

Cas’ eyes, wide and fearful, light on Dean. His mouth falls open in an ‘O’ of surprise, and Cas never learned how to play it cool, never learned the art of apathy. Dean might care, but so does Cas, and it seems impossible that their two magnets are eternally repelling each other. 

"And I want you around just because.” The words come easier but don’t erase the apprehensive tilt of Cas’ head, the slight glimmer at the edge of his eyes. “And I know that it wasn’t your fault, I know that--And I know that we’ve got this Chuck bullshit hanging over us, but it’s...” 

Here Dean falters. Here his words die, because he doesn’t want to admit to Cas what he already knows--that even though he loves Cas with every ounce of emotion his miserable heart can squeeze out, he’s still a son of a bitch who will punch first and ask questions later, and whose first response to any kind of pain is to find the thing that hurt him and hurt it worse. People like that can’t be in relationships. They don’t deserve relationships. 

But maybe Lee was just the tiniest bit right when he asked Dean if they didn’t deserve some kind of happiness in compensation for all the pain. 

“Anyway, if you want me to go, then I can...” Dean gestures towards the door, which finally sparks Cas into some kind of motion. 

Slowly, like he’s moving through liquid or a dream, Cas stands from the bed and makes his way to Dean. Dean forces his body to remain still, even as Cas stands in front of him. One hand reaches out and Dean doesn’t run, he doesn’t flinch, not even when Cas’ hand lands on his left shoulder. 

Something in Dean sings with joy. 

“It’s late,” Cas says. His voice is calm but he can’t quite suppress the edge of awe that’s creeping around the edge of his words. “And I need to sleep.” 

“I can--” Dean jerks his thumb towards the door, but Cas looks up and finally, finally, meet his eyes. 

“You need to sleep,” Cas says, in the same even tone, but his fingers grip Dean’s arm. 

With careful motions, Cas walks them backwards towards the bed. He’s slow, giving Dean every opportunity to back away. And part of Dean wants to, part of Dean wants to run and hide behind his facade of anger and betrayal, part of Dean wants to get in the Impala and drive as far away as he can, because, at the heart of it, he knows that this is never going to work, that the second he gets any kind of happiness, something come along to snatch it away. 

But Cas’ mattress is soft and welcoming, and Cas’ eyes are gentle at the edges as he looks at Dean with a hint of his old reverence. “Sleep,” Cas says, and it’s not forgiveness, it’s not what needs to happen, but at the moment, it’s close enough, which is all Dean’s ever really asked for. 

Cas folds himself into bed behind Dean. He lays, there, immobile and radiating heat and Dean freezes, clutching the blanket around him. The back of his neck prickles with the weight of Cas’ eyes and the world holds its breath in anticipation of what’s to come. 

Cas lays one careful hand to the back of Dean’s neck, right above his shirt collar, at the first knob of his spine. At the first brush of his hand, Dean’s muscles go lax as he sinks into the mattress. After a long moment, Dean rolls over. He presses Cas’ hand to his heart, keeps it there with one of his. 

Lee’s blood is still caked underneath his nails. Chuck is still out there, along with Lilith. Danger hangs over Sam’s head, and as always, the world seems one short step away from plunging off the edge of the abyss. There’s a fragile peace between him and Cas that could shatter with a moment’s carelessness and there are mountains still between them. 

But here, in this liminal space of the night, he and Cas exist in a place without words, in a place where words are extraneous. Here, there’s only the press of Cas’ fingers to the soft thud of his heart, the slow sweep of Dean’s thumb over Cas’ knuckles. Here, there’s just the two of them, pressed close enough together that their knees knock, staring into the other’s eyes until Dean’s eyelids grow heavy. 

“Sleep,” Cas says, blinking slowly. Dean would move the earth for him, would take the whole of heaven, hell, and purgatory and burn them into nothingness if it meant that Cas would be safe. 

He already knows that Cas has done the same for him. 

“I’ll be here in the morning,” Cas tells him. 

Dean sleeps. 

---

Things were falling apart. We just could not slow down. We were evolving into something greater, perhaps too much for our own good. And one thing always remained as I moved on. I saved a little bit of love just in case you would ever return home.--Robert M. Drake

[odd-birds-and-booksellers]

Prompt 12 and 45 would be great. I love your stories. Its great to see that people are still writing about them. So thanks for that. I‘m always happy when I see a new fanfiction from you.

To Be Where You Are

“What are you doing here?” Jo inwardly cursed, she knew that voice, she’d recognise it anywhere but did he really have to be here now. Sighing Jo rubbed her palms against her eyes before lifting her head off the bar where she'd been trying to drown her sorrows.

“It’s a bar.” She mutters, eyeing up Alex suspiciously, she’d heard he was only in town for the week and by heard she’d made Link get Amelia to ask Meredith so she knew how long she’d have to be hiding out around the hospital. Annoyingly enough this wasn't the first time she'd seen Alex since he left. Unfortunately, their paths had crossed several times apparently, he couldn’t come home to tell Jo he was leaving her but hey Maggie’s wedding, Nurse Clara’s funeral and Yang’s visit were important enough. She’d vowed to be civil with him and by vowed Link had dragged her drunk from Maggie’s wedding after she’d tried to throw a shoe at Alex’s head. Despite claiming she wasn’t mad at him, four tequilas in and she could be mad...very mad. Which is why now is a dangerously bad time for him to show up. 

“You look very dressed up for a bar,”  Alex grumbles taking a seat beside her, somehow over the years, they’d managed to hold a few conversations, mainly small talk like they were just ex-colleagues. 

If Jo was honest she really didn’t wanna share the excruciating fact that she’d been on a date that clearly hadn’t ended well since she was here drinking alone with her ex-husband, she really didn’t fancy seeing the pity in his eyes as he expressed how sorry he was for 100th time for leaving the way he did. She hated when he did that...apologised. He’d found her in the hospital the day after Maggie’s wedding and asked if she wanted to talk, a little late if you ask her, there was nothing left to say he was with Izzie, he was a father and a chief at a new hospital and she was here. She was happy he was happy...honestly, she was.  

“I don’t have to explain my dress choices to you.” She narrows her eyes at him, shifting in her seat to lean further away from him, hating the heat prickling up her arm at his closeness. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s a bar.” Alex mimics her earlier statement, signalling towards the bartender. “A beer please and whatever she’s drinking.”

“I don’t...” Jo begins to protest.

“I know you don't need me to…” Alex snaps, cutting her off as the bartender places two drinks down between them, eyeing them up suspiciously. 

Jo sighs accepting the drink, muttering her thanks, she notices how Alex grips his beer bottle so tightly his knuckles turn white, turning in her chair to look at him properly she finally takes in his appearance. She usually avoids his gaze, it's too painful to look at him, her heart always seems to cry out for him like it can’t seem to understand he doesn't want her anymore.  “Crappy day?” 

“Extremely crappy.” Alex nods taking a large sip of his beer. He looks tired, dark bags under his eyes and his two-day stubble making him appear a lot older than he is. 

“Sorry…” Jo mumbles biting her lip like she wanted to ask more but couldn't bring herself to.  

Alex laughs softly shaking his head. “Why are you sorry, aren’t you supposed to be wishing my misery?”

“No.” Jo pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing before she continues. “No, I’m not wishing your misery, Alex.”

“I would if I was you.”

“Well you’re not...I’m more mature than you.”

“Sure you are.” Alex spins on his bar stool so he's facing her, she’s smirking at him, her eyes dancing and for a second just a second there is no big history between them, no unspeakable pain, they're just Alex and Jo. But that soon fades, the second their eyes meet the happiness begins to drain from Jo’s eyes. 

“I don’t wish misery on you, Alex, I’m...I’m happy you're happy.” She admits, looking down at her drink like the bottom of the glass is suddenly so interesting.

Ah if only he was happy, truth is he and Izzie had hit a wall while ago, he’d been living out of a hotel near the hospital he worked for 6 months now and when he got the call to say Meredith was showing early signs of Alzheimer's he'd insisted to be here for the tests, anything was better than watching Izzie's prick of a boyfriend tell him how working on a farm was harder work than a surgeon, apparently, surgery didn’t count as working with your hands. 

“I’m the biggest screw up in this bar. I thought I was doing good, making the right choices. How am I still here in this place of just nothingness?”

Jo wasn’t entirely sure what he was on about but clearly, it wasn’t just a bad day he was having. “You know that’s not how life works right? You can’t plan for anything. You gave it your best go, it’s not over just try again.” She suggested her voice squeaking uncontrollably. 

Is she talking about herself or Izzie? Alex wonders, taking another big gulp of his beer, hoping if he reached the bottom of the bottle he’d somehow numb the pain he was currently feeling. 

“You know moping around in a bar when you should be at home in Kansas is probably not helping your problems.” Jo points out.

Alex nods, sighing deeply. “I’m just not ready to go back yet…” If it wasn’t for his kids who he loved more than life itself he’d have high tailed it out of Kansas a long time ago. The days spent without his kids felt like he was living someone else’s life. 

He looked so down so broken and Jo was annoyed at how much her heart hurt for him like she wanted to reach out and comfort him, make it all better because seeing him hurt made her hurt far more than seeing him happy. 

“We’re gonna need another round of shots,” Jo called waving over the bartender. 

“You’re not the biggest screw up in this bar Alex,” Jo admits giving him a half-smile as she nods her thanks at the bartender. “I was on a date. That’s why I’m dressed up like this.”

Alex raises his head in surprise as he looks up at Jo, she looks uncomfortable in a deep blue satin dress that clings to her nicely. Looking around quickly to see if anyone was making their way over but no one seemed to be and no one had appeared in the time Alex had been here which seemed insane because if he’d been on a date with Jo looking like that she wouldn’t be sitting here alone at the end of the night. ��She looked incredible. 

“Didn’t end well?”

Was this awkward talking to Alex about her love life? Everything had always been so easy between them, right from when they first met there was some unspoken connection that made Jo wanna tell him all her darkest secrets, things she kept to herself for years. 

“Yeah it’s fantastic that’s why I’m drinking alone.” She spits sarcastically knocking back her shot. 

“Sorry...what happened?” Alex esquires hesitantly, throwing back his shot, he was gonna need it to hear about Jo with another man. 

“Nothing...he was fine...he was lovely.”

Just not you. 

He’s ruined her for all other men. 

I swear you’re grumpy and angry most of the time but I loved when you held me tighter in your sleep and the way you’d try and hide your grin when I sang in the car and every tiny little thing that made you so damn perfect for me. 

It's hard for me to say, I'm jealous of the way. You're happy without me

“I hate dates, I don’t think I’m a date person, I don’t like fancy restaurants, or the small portions or the funny tasting food with crap like cauliflower foam and I hate when they order for you and they feel the need to hold your hand like bitch I’m trying to eat here.” She rambles on shaking her hands around dramatically as Alex listens in silence. He’s not sure what to say, he knows all these things about her already. 

“I dunno why I’m moping around, pretty sure he’s dodged a bullet with me.” She mutters, she leanings over the bar trying to grab the bottle of tequila to fill her own glass but Alex pulls her back down into the seat just as the bartender rounds the corner.

“Give us a tray.” He nods towards the guy. 

“Don’t say that Jo.” He mumbles his hands still holding her shoulders gently from where he’d pulled her back. 

“You’re gonna tell me how I’m a real catch and that’s why...l

“You had nothing-“

“-to do with you leaving, so you keep saying.”

You have everything to do with my staying though. He can’t tell her that though because she’s moving on clearly and it’s unfair to tell her that it’s her and it will always be her, especially because everyone would think it was because of him and Izzie splitting and her moving on. At least that’s what Meredith had said when she’d smacked him across the head for being so stupid and only just mentioning it now. He couldn’t be selfish with Jo anymore and the truth is even if he told her there’s no way she’d want him back after all the hurt he'd caused her and he still had the twins to think about, he couldn’t go anywhere without them. 

“When are you going home?” Jo sighs shrugging out of his grip. 

“End of the week. It was meant to be last week but Mer needs me here.” Alex tosses his drink winching at the taste or wincing at his reality, Mer doesn’t need him here she’s not complaining but he can’t help but he feel like he’s getting in the way like everyone has their place and he can’t seem to fit back in. 

“Bullshit.”

“What” Alex's nose scrunches up. 

“You heard me...B.U.L.L.S.H.I.T. Bullshit” She glowers at him, poking at his chest with each letter, she seems to have a newfound confidence two tequilas in. “Meredith's’ got people coming out of her arse, there are so many people running around her.”

Alex squeezed his eyes shut tight, she saw through him, he can’t put his walls up when she’s got a bloody key. “Well since we're sharing our screw ups, things weren’t that great when I left, I haven’t been living at home for six months. I get to see my kids Tuesday, Wednesday and every other weekend. So to add my point earlier I really am the biggest screw up in this bar, hell in this city, in this country for that matter…” Alex grumbles, taking Jo’s next shot as well his own. 

Jo’s breath hitches her eyes widened for a second like deer in headlights unsure how to process everything Alex had just said.  “Wow, you’re really pitying yourself tonight huh?” 

“It’s my pattern, things go good for a few years and then wrecking ball hits and I start all over again and I’m so tired of doing it.”

“Alex, that is just life, good things happen, bad things happen, you don’t have to start over every time sometimes you just have to stay and you have to fight and you’ll get back to the good stuff.” 

Jo felt like she was betraying herself talking Alex through his relationship telling him to go fight for something that involved breaking her heart. 

“Very wise words for a woman drinking alone.” She rolled her eyes resisting the urge to slap him, the only reason she wasn’t at the good stuff was that he hadn’t stayed to fight for them. 

“Are you back at the good place...you know since I…” Alex trailed off, glancing at Jo who was looking straight ahead seemingly lost in thought. 

Jo bit her lips, willing away the tears she could feel forming. “No...no I’m nowhere near the good place but I am trying.”

She wonders if she should just make her exit now but she can’t seem to move from her chair, the words whirling around her head. “I wish I was you know” she cocks her head to the side to look at him, trying to read what he was thinking.  “They told me I’d forget about you; that I’d move on but it’s been three years and here I am.” 

She takes the third shot before wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. “I’m still sabotaging my own dates because the idea of letting someone in, having to get know someone is so long and painful and I just I don’t want to have to explain why I hate carrot cake and why I like to sleep furthest away from the door and I don’t wanna…” the words get caught in her throat, as one loan tear betrays her as it trails down her cheek. 

“If you don’t want to then why do it?” Alex frowned his eyes following her tear as it hit the bar.

“Because I do I want all of it I do...I’m just scared” Jo shrugs, smiling softly. 

“Me too.” Alex nods giving her a sympathetic smile. 

Jo grabs her purse pushing off the bar stool, she needs to leave before anything else is said. It's too painful to watch him leave after admitting that she was still in love with him. “Go home, go try and fix whatever it is that’s going on, make it all worth it. Life is too short to be wasting time.” 

Make it all worth it. That’s what Mer had said earlier, she was going on about losing her memory and making sure she told everyone how much they meant to her before she forgot who the hell everyone was. Alex has tried to protest and tell her if she was losing her memory it would be a bloody long time until she forgot him.  Tell the people you love, you love them before it is too late, a bit cliche if you ask me. 

“Take my advice. Go home, Alex.”

He was home, part of him was anyway. He waits for a second downing the last shot before leaving a couple of bills on the bar and follows her out. 

“Jo...wait.” Breaking out into a light jog as he followed her out, he was surprised to find the skies had opened up, the rain pouring down onto the car park, blocking his vision. He could just about make out Jo who was heading towards the main road looking down at her phone. 

She looks up from her phone as she catches sight of him, trying to shelter her eyes from the pouring rain. “Yeah?” 

He stops before her, shoving his hands in his pocket, completely drenched from the rain as it soaked through his shirt. “I wasn’t being completely truthful back there when I explained why I hadn’t gone back to Kansas.” 

“Right?” Jo calls raising her voice over the sound of the rain. 

“I left out something...pretty much the main reason I’m still here.” He yells squinting to see through the rain, she’s shivering as she wraps her arms around herself. 

Alex immediately takes his jacket off, stepping forward to wrap it around her. 

“Well, what was it?” She squeals, jumping as she feels the heat from Alex’s arms, he’s rubbing the side of her arms trying to keep her warm. 

“If you give me a second I’m trying to tell you…” He growls. 

“Oh...okay,” Jo mumbles her forehead creasing as she stares up at him, the cold rain hitting against her skin doing nothing to cool the fire burning from his hands on her. “I don’t hear anything.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Okay but…” Jo bites her lips as his eyes dart down to her lips and then back up to meet her gaze. 

“I’m serious,” Alex mutters the sincerity in his eyes, scaring her slightly. “I forgot to mention that I’m...I’m still completely in love with you.” 

And just like that, his lips crashed down on to hers. 

Slowly making my way through all my requests.  Wish That You Were Here by Florence + the Machine And I never minded being on my own then something broke in me and I wanted to go home, to be where you are.

[hvlfwygod]

crystal clear on a star lit night | brent & macey (& miranda)

summary: you all know exactly what this is

Macey had taken her heels off the moment they got in the car. She always did. Her feet were propped up against the glove compartment, and was presently slouching in her seat, bopping her head to the music playing and scrolling through her phone. With a cute dress and a full face of makeup on, it was a stark juxtaposition. She turned to Brent, a grin on her face as she snapped a picture of him driving to post on her Instagram story, "I'm apologizing in advance about how annoying I'm gonna be. I'm fully prepared to take like, a million cute pictures of us, 'cause we don't have a lot of new ones."

Brent laughed, keeping his eyes firmly on the road. The sun was setting and shadows were expanding into darkness, but he'd driven this road so many times he wasn't very worried about it. The reason he was staring ahead was so he wouldn't stare (gawk, really) at Macey any more than he already had. Also, his heart was racing, and anything other than looking forward might give him away. "Don't apologize, that's exactly why I picked this place."

Macey shoved her phone into her purse and leaned her head back against the seat, "A fucking castle just out here." When Brent had randomly stumbled upon the place online, she immediately insisted they go. She didn't realize it was the kind of place that needed reservations a month in advance, however. So, the waiting for this date night to finally come was well worth it. "Like, that's so weird. I love it. We should get a castle." She joked.

"What would the two of us do in a castle?" One of Brent's hand floated off the wheel and hit the left blinker, reached for hers. He turned while his hand intertwined with hers. "Besides throw a party that your siblings would never be able to outdo."

"Uh, a lot of things." Macey grinned, bringing his hand up to her lips. She pressed a kiss to his knuckles before resting their hands on her leg. Her tone was suggestive, but, she dropped it easily with a laugh, "For real though, I've always wanted to just like, slide down a long ass hallway in my socks, or take a mattress down a huge staircase like a sled. And yes—we've tried that in the cabin. The staircase wasn't long enough." She shrugged, "Okay, amended. We Airbnb a castle."

The castle was just up ahead, so Brent tightened his grip and shifted somewhat in his seat. "We're about to be there," he said. "But yes, that I think we can arrange. We can slide down the hallway and do all manner of things on a mattress." He smirked, finally stealing another glance at Macey. "Okay, look to your right." He sped up just a touch, and then they passed the edge of the trees to a huge, open field. The castle was set back behind a courtyard, lit up softly by lights. Even Brent, who had only ever seen it during the day, was impressed. "Wow."

Macey scooted herself back up into a correct seating position so she could actually see as directed. Resting her forehead against the window, Macey watched as the trees gave way to the castle in the distance. A small gasp escaped her mouth, jolting up straight, "Stop it right now." She didn't quite know what she expected, but, what could you even expect when you've never seen a real castle before? "Brent!" Macey exclaimed, taken aback. Her bright eyes were still glued outside, watching as the castle got closer. She squeezed his hand again, "What the hell!"

Her reaction was all he needed; a wide, toothy grin spread across Brent's face and he pulled Macey's hand up to his lips to kiss it. "I told you it's beautiful here," he said quietly. He had to let go of her hand to properly turn into the long drive up to the building, but he found it again once the car was facing ahead once more. The sun was beaming out a brilliant sunset and everything felt perfect, so far. "Wait until you see the inside."

"Yeah, no shit. It's probably insane." Macey gave another bewildered laugh, eyes continuing to dart between all of their surroundings. She realized probably she should stop cursing with the fact that they were dressed up more than they have in months and were at, well, a castle.  Macey finally looked back over at him, "So, what exactly are we doing here, Mr. Date Planner?"

His heart stuttered but Brent masked it all behind a smile and easy, carefree shrug. "Dinner! And pictures, and a beautiful setting, and..." He put the car in park as a valet approached him. Finally, he could turn toward her fully and he played it up (though it wasn't that hard), ogling her a bit. "I get to see you all dressed up and imagine what it'll be like to take it all off later."

Macey couldn’t not bask in the attention, though her face felt warm all the same. She gave him a similar once over, doing an awful job of trying to hold back the smile on her face, “Hm, same.” Macey leaned over and gave him a quick kiss, “Okay, we’re at a fancy place, we can’t be all slutty just yet.”

"Of course, of course," Brent said, moving backward in his seat. "Don't move," he commanded as he opened his door and jogged around the car. The box containing the ring jostled just a bit in his pocket. Winking at her through the window, Brent opened her door and held a hand out for her.

Macey held her hands up in innocence as he got out of the car, then proceeded to take the few spare seconds to put her shoes back on. Her mind drifted back to their first date, how this act of chivalrous affection was off-putting and uncomfortable to her closed-off self. The thought felt laughable now. When he opened the door, she smiled, grabbing the bottle of wine from the car that he'd forgotten, and taking his hand to hop out of the car, "Thank you, sir, where to first?"

"We have," Brent checked his watch, "about twenty minutes until our reservation, but I want to save the walk around the courtyard for after. So we can take some golden hour pictures up there?" He pointed to the large, open level above them. The valet made it to them and he passed over the keys with a small smile, his arm sliding around Macey's shoulders.

"Oooh, yes, that's perfect," Macey bounced on the balls of her feet, "Lets head up there."

Brent led Macey across the drive, through huge entrance to the floor level of the castle. He paused, unable to not admire the view inside. Marble columns and floor-to-ceiling windows making the sunshine twinkle as it streamed in. "This is... wow." He took a deep breath. It was like everything around him was trying to look exactly how he needed it. He could get down on one knee right here. Instead, he glanced to Macey as he started up the huge staircase. "Want a picture here, too?"

"Wow," Macey breathed out, almost missing his words entirely. She turned around in a slow circle, watching how the sunlight made the room glow, and almost not noticing that Brent had moved to the stairs. She blinked back to reality and followed him, "Uh, yes, definitely." Her free hand grazed the railing as they walked up, "Gods, I feel like a princess just going up these stairs." She chuckled.

While she was distracted and starry-eyed, Brent pulled out his phone and took a picture of her, then held his hand out to take the wine from her. "I know, I feel fancier just being in here. Okay, pose, I got you."

Macey put a hand to her heart in a very 'who, me?' gesture, and hopped up a few steps above him, "Look at you, I've taught you so well," She laughed, "Okay, uhh, here." She leaned against the railing for him to take the picture.

Brent winked at Macey and took several pictures of her, then stepped back over to show them off. "All good?" he asked after he leaned in to kiss her.

Macey flipped through the pictures, favoriting the couple that she liked the most, "Yes, they're perfect," She smiled, flipping back one too far and seeing the picture he snapped of her before, "Aw! That's so cute!" It made her feel all warm and happy inside. Macey nudged him, joking, "Thanks for being my Instagram husband. Do you want a picture?" She raised an eyebrow.

Gods. She said it before, but hearing it tonight made Brent's stomach flip. "I'll take one outside," he said quickly. Brent pulled her in for another kiss and hoped he his face wasn't betraying him when he pulled back. "I'm gonna go check in and drop off the wine, I'll meet you out there."

"Okay," Macey shrugged, letting him go to get everything taken care of. He was a little quick to do so, which set off something in her brain, just the tiniest bit. Her feet were slow as she made her way out to the large balcony on the second floor, taking time to look at everything she could. Brent sometimes liked to have a surprise up his sleeve. Macey chose not to dwell on it or potentially spoil the fun, and simply moved on.

The air was just balmy enough, and the sunset seemed to know exactly what it was doing, painting the sky in warm colors. There were a few people scattered about on the balcony, but, Macey did a little twirl to herself regardless. She made sure to pull out her phone and send a picture to Miranda and Rory, having been raving about going to a castle for weeks now.

He did actually check in and drop off the wine, but not before sending a quick text to Miranda, confirming that they had arrived. He double and then triple-checked that the ring was still firmly in place, then wandered outside. He saw Macey, drenched in sunlight, and his chest constricted— not for the first time that day— at the sight. Once he was close enough, he put his hands on her hips. "Hi," he said, like they'd been apart for much longer than two minutes.

Macey wondered if that would ever get old. How her heart would lurch in surprise, or how she found herself melting into him, or how his voice sent little sparks down her spine. She looked up at him and smiled, full-on heart eyes, "Hey, all set? Oh—!" Macey fully turned around to face him, pointing a finger into his chest, "Do you want a picture? We could also probably ask someone to take one of us, but, I don't know if I trust how good they'll be."

"Hmmm." He looked around at the other people out on the balcony. "I think we can risk it," Brent said, smirking.

A few minutes later, they had managed to get decent pictures thanks to a group of fellow millennials. Brent leaned against the banister and scrolled through their options, Macey's phone's screen angled toward her so she could select her favorites. "I love this one," he said. "The way the light is working? Oh, and you look good, too."

"Me? Why are you so hot?" Macey asked honestly, a big smile on her face, "I love that one too." She reached over and tapped the little heart to save it.  "Yay, I'm gonna use that for like, everything now."

He wondered if that would still be the case in a few hours. Brent leaned in to kiss her again, an arm wrapping around her waist and lifting her just enough that her heels were a bit off the ground. "Me, too." Or maybe another picture, one that had yet to be taken. He handed her phone back to her and put a thumb to her mouth where her lipstick smeared just a bit out of place. "Sorry," he said, though he didn't really look very sorry at all.

The smallest, surprised noise escaped her mouth as she hovered above the ground, but, Macey gladly kissed him back. Her eyes followed his thumb, then spent a moment too long on his mouth before looking back up at him. "Oh, please," Macey chuckled, reaching out and fiddling with the collar of his shirt, which had gotten slightly skewed from the motion, "I have it in my bag. Reapplying lipstick is always worth it."

He ran his tongue over his lips as they gazed at each other, then glanced away. "Okay, let me control myself for dinner," he said. Despite what he said, his hand was still against her back as he checked the time on his phone. "They should be ready for us now."

Macey felt her face get warm once again, but, this time she knew he could definitely see it. She laughed and put a hand to her mouth, along with a roll of her eyes, "Gods, you're so ridiculous, I love you so much." She glanced at his phone as well, smiling, "Well, let's go eat some rich people food, then."

Brent laughed as they made their way back inside. "Great, I can't wait." Once they were seated, a waiter appeared with the wine he brought, freshly opened and chilling in an ice bucket. Brent picked up the bottle and poured Macey's glass, then his own. "Should we toast to something?"

Macey scrunched her nose, thinking. Maybe she shouldn't have her elbows on the table, or shouldn't be swinging her legs under her seat. She still didn't quite know what constituted as the right behavior in a fancy restaurant. "Uhhh," She gently rotated the full glass in front of her, then laughed at herself, "How stupid is it that the first thing that came to my head was the dog?"

Brent grinned and picked up his glass, sliding his fingers through her with his other hand. "That sounds perfect," he said. "To Ziggy, our wonderful, rambunctious son." He held the glass out for Macey to tap with hers.

Macey ran her free hand down her face, sighing, "He really is our son, huh?" Admitting that caused a weird feeling to roll through her chest. She smiled and tapped her glass with his, then took a sip, "Mm!" Her eyes lit up, "Hey, this is really good, this is from that new place you went to the other day, right?"

"It is," Brent replied after he swallowed some wine, nodding. It was good, bright and sweet. "I'm glad you like it, I kept going between three nearly identical flavors trying to decide what would be best." As he spoke, he picked up the menu, but didn't look down just yet. He knew from checking ahead that he only had a few options for himself, anyway.

Macey knew him well enough to know that meant he probably was overthinking and took far too long to decide, "See, that's when you just give up, close your eyes, and pick one." The thought of him trying to pick between them was so wholesome, it made her chest ache. Macey grinned, "But, you definitely picked the right one." She glanced down at the menu, "I'm guessing you definitely looked at this ahead of time and there's actually stuff you can eat, right?"

Brent widened his eyes, looking worried. "No, I totally didn't think of that," he said quietly. After a beat, he chuckled and took another sip of wine.

Macey frowned for a brief second, fully believing him. When Brent laughed, she gave a playful glare, reaching her leg out and lightly kicking him under the table. She laughed into her drink before taking a sip, "So annoying."

It all seemed to be going to plan. They ordered food and continued to drink—Brent made sure to pace himself for the drive and so he wouldn't jumble his words later— and everything felt perfect. Sometime around dessert, his phone buzzed with a text from Miranda, confirming she was in place. The closer they got to the end of the meal, the faster his heart seemed to beat. Maybe he paced himself too much, he thought as he poured himself another glass. He scooped a spoonful of his dessert and held it out to Macey. "Try this."

She'd made sure not to drink too much—she didn't want to risk toppling over into a bush in her heels or not remembering all of this tomorrow. But, she had drank just enough to feel a bit brighter and happy inside. Macey leaned forward to try the dessert, and proceeded to do a little happy dance in her chair after she did. "Oh my god, that's so good."

Brent watched her; a smile hadn’t fully left his face for most of the night but it grew in this moment. “So I’m thinking after we finish up here, there’s that courtyard out front, we can walk around and...” he pressed his lips together, then hastily added, “maybe see what we can get away with in the dark? Whatever you want.”

A smirk grew on Macey’s face, “That’s dangerous. I love it.” She checked her makeup in the reflection of her phone, and took a second to reapply the lipstick she’d lost from eating, “But yes, def, let’s go explore outside first. It looked so gorgeous when we came in.”

With a nod, Brent slid his hand back into hers from across the table, interlocking their fingers. He finished his dessert in a few more bites then topped it off with the last of his wine. It was getting harder to be patient, to not rush through the check and pull her outside and just ask. "I promise I'll be good, too, and let us enjoy the view before we do anything too crazy."

Macey laughed, squeezing his hand, “You do kinda love like, going zero to a hundred super fast. But,” She shrugged, “I love that about you.”

He pulled her hand up to his lips. "I love that about me, too." Brent laughed. "And I love that you love it."

Maybe she was feeling sappy because of the wine, or that he’d done all of this to surprise her, but, Macey rested her chin in her free hand, smiling, “You know what else I love about you?”

"What's that?" Brent asked. He copied her motion, putting his elbow on the table and holding his head up with his hand.

"I love that you're really kind. And thoughtful. And that you whistle when you do the dishes. And you have the best laugh. And the prettiest eyes I've ever seen." She pressed her lips together to keep her smile from getting too out of hand. A few years ago she would've stopped there. But she continued.

"Like, you have every right to just be the angriest person in the world, but, you aren't. You give everyone a chance and you make people feel welcome, instead. And," Macey's kneejerk response was still to bury her face into her hand and make a joke, but she forced herself not to, "You've just...helped me be a better person." She flipped their hands back and forth as she spoke, "You make me so happy and I feel so loved, like, all of the time. And I just really, really appreciate it. And I hope I always let you know that."

A few years ago, Brent probably would have had to look away, hide his face and his reaction to what Macey was saying. It was just as overwhelming to hear it now, his heart swelled all the same, but Brent never took his eyes off of her. “You do,” he said quietly. “You do like, every day. And I appreciate it so much, and I love you more than I can say. You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.” He pulled her hand a little closer and placed it inside both of his. “You help me become a better person, too. Come on,” Brent waved their waiter over. “I have something I want to show you.”

His words made her heart swell up as well. But she didn't have much time to dwell on it. Macey smiled, then squinted at him, jokingly, "I knew you had something up your sleeve." She looped her bag back over her shoulder, "Okay, let's go."

Did that mean she knew? Or was she thinking of something else, something smaller? He hoped it was the latter, though at this point some healthy suspicion probably wouldn’t get in the way of anything. Brent paid the check as quickly as he could, then pocketed his wallet. While he did, his other hand went into his other pocket, closing around the small velvet box that held the ring. He kept his grip there and brought out his other hand to hold Macey’s. They walked out of the restaurant and turned to head out toward the garden. He could see the fountain— still a ways away from here— where it would happen. His heart started racing again. “Can you believe it’s been five years already?”

The garden was absolutely beautiful, like something out of a movie. Macey had a hard time focusing on just one thing, but when Brent spoke, she immediately turned back to him. She shook her head, bewildered. The thought made her heart flip in her chest, "Gods, that sounds so fucking insane when you say it out loud."  She swung their hands back and forth as they walked,  "It literally doesn't feel that long at all, huh."

“I know,” Brent agreed. “Sometimes it still feels like we just started dating.” He chuckled, gazing around at all the foliage while they walked. “And like I’m this big idiot trying very hard to impress you.”

"You were the big idiot?" Macey laughed, "Brent, please, I was the one trying so hard to impress you."

He looked back to her, shaking his head. “Only because I had already been trying to impress you,” he insisted. Brent paused and leaned over to kiss her. “Seriously, I was a big mess and I had no idea how to relax. I was working so hard to figure out how to let loose, which,” he chuckled, “was probably counterproductive.”

"Yeah but, see, that's why it all works out. You didn't know how to relax, I didn't know how to be serious," She let go of his hands and took a few steps ahead, turning to face him and walk backwards, "You fit the puzzle pieces together and ta-da," Macey did a dramatic twirl, arms spread out, then curtsied, "Balance. Look at us now, I can be serious, you can have fun, we're out here thriving."

Miranda managed to find a spot that pretty much concealed her from the view of the fountain completely. She checked that her phone was stable on its tripod before moving to fiddle around with the camera, which may or may not have been swiped prior to her leaving camp, as the sound of voices reached her position. People had been occasionally passing her the past half hour or so, but these voices were familiar and caused her head to snap up and peer ever so slightly over her bush covering. Catching sight of Brent and Macey, she ducked back down before either could look her way, instead looking through the hole she had been poking away at creating while the two lovebirds were at dinner. Her leg was bouncing in excitement and nerves, but mostly excitement as she watched her sister twirl around. As they reached the fountain, she pressed the record button on her phone.

Brent let go of the ring and held both her hands in his to keep her steady as she walked backwards. They entered the circular clearing around the fountain, and the water jets were sparkly under the stars and elegant lighting. His heart had moved on from racing to stumbling and stuttering while he managed to keep a cool exterior. “Yeah. I guess we’re perfect for each other, huh?” He grinned, his stomach flipping, and pulled his gaze off her face and to the fountain behind her. “Look,” he said, indicating with his head that she should turn.

Macey grinned and turned around, expecting something to suddenly happen. The fountain was beautiful, and lit up just so that the water looked like it was sparkling. But besides that and the sprawling garden, she didn't see anything else. After a moment, she shrugged, "What am I supposed to be looking at?" Macey called behind her.

As soon as Macey turned, Brent took a deep, shaking breath and lowered himself to one knee. Only now, settling into the position, did the reality of what he was doing really, fully crash over him. He spoke past the lump in his throat. "Mace?"

"Yeah—?" Macey turned, then froze. There were a few reasons why Brent could be kneeling in front of her. Maybe he had to tie his shoe, maybe his back suddenly seized and he lost his balance. Or...there was the third reason. She blinked a couple times, still frozen. "Brent..." Her voice got meek and quiet, unable to say anything more than that.

"Yeah," he breathed out, answering her unspoken question. Brent took another inhale before he kept going. "I... Uh, wow." He smiled. "Wow. I can't believe we're here. I never thought that I'd meet someone that I would feel so certain about spending the rest of my life with. Mace, you make me so happy, like unbelievably so beyond happy, and I can't imagine going a day without you. So..." Brent's hands were shaking just slightly as he pulled the box out of his pocket.

Somewhere in the middle of his speech her hands came up to her mouth, but, she didn't even notice with the way her heart was pounding. All she could focus on was his face and the words coming out of his mouth. Macey felt like her brain was short-circuiting. Was this really happening? "Holy shit." She breathed out, so quiet it was only a whisper.

Brent laughed, the worry shattering as Macey cursed. "Yeah, holy shit. Holy fucking shit, Macey," he opened the box to show her the ring, "will you marry me?"

She laughed, too, tears pooling up in her eyes. The nerves had disappeared and there was no hesitation in her voice when she nodded, "Yeah—yes, oh my god, yes."

Miranda has been snapping pictures this entire time, from the second Macey started spinning to now. She wasn’t fully anticipating how emotional she was going to get watching this go down, but turns out it was very emotional. Tears are streaming down her face, beyond happy for her sister, and she kept having to wipe away the tears before she could continue snapping photos of the two of them. Pausing once again to clear her vision, she also took a second to breathe and can her eyes before getting back into it, waiting for her cue to run over.

Brent had to swallow hard before he was able to compose himself enough to stand. His own eyes were stinging and he took a brief moment to drag a finger under them before he continued. He plucked the ring from it's case and slid it over her finger, then wrapped her up in his arms and kissed her. "I love you."

Macey tried to keep her hand from shaking as he slid the ring on, but it was hard, due the fact that she was fully crying now. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back, "I love you, too," She said, then kissed him again, "I love you so much."

He pressed Macey into him; it wasn't clear to him if his face was wet from her tears or his own, but he didn't care. He kissed her, and then again, and again, and then again, laughing against her lips when he finally pulled back. "I have one more surprise for you," he said, looking toward the spot where he knew Miranda was hiding.

Miranda saw Brent look over and quickly hid her camera before popping up from her spot.   Her face was also wet with tears, but she had a wide and bright grin on her face as she hurried over. She couldn’t help but laugh as she closed in on them, slowing herself down what was hopefully enough to stop them from going straight into the fountain as she threw her arms around Macey. “Congratulations, babes! I’m so fucking happy for you.”

"Gods, I don't know if I can handle another—" Her sniffle was cut off by a surprised yelp as her sister materialized from the garden. Macey was startled enough that her reflexes were too slow to hug back. When Miranda let go, she wiped the tears from her face, though her voice was still watery, "I—Wh—Why were you in a bush?"

Miranda stepped back so she could wipe more tears off of her cheeks, and couldn’t help but laugh at Macey’s question. “So you have fucking photos? Duh.” She turned to pull Brent into a hug as well, though she was only able to wrap her arms around his waist due to the height difference. “Congrats, allow me to officially welcome you to the craziest family on the damn planet.” She laughed again, pulling away to focus back on her sister. “I’m guessing we totally got you?”

Brent accepted the hug from Miranda and laughed. "I think we did. The look on Macey's face when she turned around was priceless."

"You guys," Macey tried to sound annoyed, but she'd already started crying again, so that was out the window, "What the hell." She looked down at her hand properly for the first time. The teardrop shaped diamond was a grey-ish black, the rose gold band embedded with little diamonds. The weight of it on her finger felt right. "It's so pretty," She sniffled, then wiped her eyes with her other hand, "Fuck, why am I crying so much?"

Reaching for her hand, Brent took another look at the ring. He'd stared at it enough for months now, but it was a whole new thing to see it on her finger. "I knew you'd like it," he said with a little smirk.

Miranda laughed. “Don’t worry, I think I managed to get her face in one of the photos.” When Brent pulled Macey’s hand up slightly, she couldn’t help but look at the ring as well. She looked up at her sister's face, looking for the flash of recognition at the ring but it never came. Miranda rolled her eyes. “Isn’t it beautiful? It's so your vibe.  Almost like you picked it yourself.” Her tone was only slightly sarcastic, but a smirk grew on her face as well.

Macey didn't let go of Brent's hand, looking at him with adoring eyes, "I love it." 

She blinked and turned to her sister, not quite sure what she was getting at. She glanced at the ring again, still holding Brent's hand. "How would I—" Macey stopped. The memory was vague: the ring store, Miranda trying to take her sweet time and Macey trying not to steal. Miranda coaxing her to pick something she loved and try it on.

Macey gasped, then immediately reached out and smacked Miranda in the arm, "You bitch! That was a fucking setup? Are you kidding?"

Brent grinned, poking her lightly in the side and kissing the side of her head. "Yep! She's been in on it the whole time." He angled her head up toward his and kissed her again. "I can't believe you never caught on."

Macey's eyes filled up with tears again, wrapping her arms around him in a hug, "How would I? I didn't think—I wasn't—" Expecting this to happen any time soon? Completely blindsided and still shocked? Yes and yes. "You had it this whole time?"

"This whole time," he confirmed, kissing her again.

Miranda laughed at her reaction, but stayed silent while the two of them talked. Once Brent pulled back again, she stepped in again. “I told you, it’s all about the story.” She teased. “There was a lot of us conspiring at the diner while I stole his fries.” She nudged him, more gentle than she normally would.

"Ugh, oh my gods," Macey wiped her tears with both hands, "Okay, I guess I'm just gonna keep crying, it's fine." She glanced around, finally coming back to terms with reality and that they were all just standing in the middle of a garden. "Miranda, are we taking you home?”

Brent kept his arms around Macey's waist, swaying with her slight as she spoke to her sister (and his sister-in-law, if all went to plan). "We are, unless she hijacked a car instead of taking the Uber I called for her."

Miranda rolled her eyes at his comment. “I didn’t steal a car don’t worry.  Any other day? Maybe, but not tonight.” She grinned at him and then bumped Macey with her hip. “He also promised me McDonald’s on the way back.  So there’s that too.”

"Cool, yeah, um," Macey sniffed and wiped her face again, "Gods, wow." Her brain still wasn't fully working. She leaned into Brent and rested her head against him.

Brent pulled his wallet back out and gave Miranda his credit card. "I did," he said. "But here, there's a bar up there, give us like twenty minutes.”

Miranda looked down at the credit card he was offering her, then back up at him and raised an eyebrow as if she was silently saying ‘really?’. Rolling her eyes, she took the card anyway and saluted him after putting it in her pocket. “You got it. I’m gonna leave the camera though.” She walked back over to where her things were set up, and pulled the tripod and camera out and over to where they were. “Just text me when you’re good and I’ll meet you guys.”

Brent sent Miranda a silent thank you as she retreated, then returned his attention to Macey, who still seemed to be speechless. He stared, grinning widely, admiring the way the wavy lights of the fountain bounced off her. "How are you feeling?" he asked, running a hand up her back.

"I..." It was all still sinking in. She kept running her thumb back and forth across the ring, assuring herself it was really real and really there. She looked up at him, once again caught by how striking he was, how he'd planned all of this, how he wanted to marry her. Macey shook her head, then laughed, "Amazing." Her voice was soft, "So happy."

It was surreal, how perfect this had all gone. How blissful and wonderful the night was, how feather-light he felt now. All these weeks of nerves and planning and now, his fiancé was standing in his arms. "Me, too," he mumbled. He swayed with her again, moving slowly like the promise of a dance they'd be doing one day. "So happy. So, unbelievably happy."

[fictionalarsonist]

bad endings and new beginnings - part II

pairing ›_ meanie ; mentions of woncheol ; mentions of seungcheol ⨯ twice nayeon | content ›_angst ; fluff ; mingyu is good at cooking ; mild language ; cheating | rating ›_pg | word count ›_2.9k

―

premise ›_Mingyu had never been in a relationship before, but being with Wonwoo makes him want nothing else but. But, Wonwoo’s too attached to the past and it makes Mingyu’s too uncertain of his place.   ›  One-liners Inspired Drabbles  ― #1. “Sleep in your car if you don’t like it.”

credit to @mingyuistall for beta-reading this for me. ty, hun!

「 ao3 | masterlist | buy me a coffee | commission」

[ part 1 | part 2 ]

“I know I was in the wrong,” Seungcheol tries again, pulling his upper lip between his teeth, “But I-” Wonwoo watches Seungcheol swallow hard, his eyes desperate to be understood, “Wonwoo, I know now how it is to be without you.”

These were the words Wonwoo’s been longing to hear, Wonwoo picture those words in so many variants coming from Seungcheol’s lips. He tossed and turned in bed over the days along these months and only recently he stopped doing this. He found some comfort in Mingyu’s arms and it made him feel guilty now that he thought about it- Wonwoo wouldn’t want to be this kind of person. To use a Mingyu because he wants to get over Seungcheol, it’s just not fair.

“I know now what is like to not have you there-”

The word that seemed to be missing, the word that Wonwoo feels like Seungcheol held back was “waiting”. Seungcheol misses having Wonwoo there, waiting for him. Staying put for when Seungcheol needs.

“I want- I wish you could give us another chance. I’ll do anything -” Seungcheol pleads, “I want you. I should’ve chosen us from the get-go.”

The way Seungcheol’s fingertips pressed on his palm is one of the things Wonwoo used to miss the most; he didn’t think he’d pull his hand away when Seungcheol finally moved his hands, pressing his fingertips on his palm, tracing lines in his hand. But he did, Wonwoo pulled away before Seungcheol could intertwine their fingers; Seungcheol gapes, his hand curling into a fist to fill the emptiness left by Wonwoo’s hold.

“You were going to marry someone and still you never bothered to say a word to me!” Wonwoo heard the words falling from his lips before he could hold himself back, they were the words Jihoon reasoned with him, words he refused to acknowledge because he believed in Seungcheol. God! He couldn’t feel any more pathetic.

“I understood when you said you weren’t ready to let people know about- you. About us.” Wonwoo continues and Seungcheol falters again, looking everywhere for something to contest Wonwoo’s words, but there was nothing he could say and Wonwoo went on as soon as he saw Seungcheol realizing it, “You let me believe that I had a- a chance, I thought―” Wonwoo swallows, feeling himself faltering. “I thought you loved me-”

For all that it’s worth, he spent too much time going over all the moments he was pushed away, hidden, ignored and kept thinking Seungcheol just wasn’t ready to let others know. It never occured to Wonwoo that he was- a dirty little secret, one Seungcheol never meant to reveal.

Wonwoo frowns and stops himself, pressing his lips close.

“But I- I did. I do , I- love you,” Seungcheol insists and to Wonwoo it’s so painfully obvious Seungcheol just trying to convince himself , “I want you, Wonwoo” he repeats and Wonwoo looks away only to be surprised, seeing Mingyu walk past the restaurant.

“I don’t think that’s true,” Wonwoo looks back at him and these words don't weigh as much as he thought it would once he says it out loud. On the contrary, he finds himself smiling and shifting his feet in anticipation as he looks at Seungcheol again, “And, you know what?” A chuckle fell from his lips, “I’m sorry. I think I made a mistake, this- this is a mistake.”

Seungcheol moves to his feet as Wonwoo does, blocking his way and stopping his hands from reaching for the coat and groceries on the seat next to him. Seungcheol wets his lips and Wonwoo must be too nice because he does, he waits until Seungcheol takes a breath to conceal the panic in his eyes. He doesn’t seem to believe Wonwoo’s refusing him and, to be honest, Wonwoo’s not quite believing himself either. He looks away for a moment and sees Mingyu crossing the street, Mingyu will be at the condo soon- he has to be there too.

“I’m sorry, Cheol,” Seungcheol was taken back and Wonwoo surprised himself at how easily the nickname fell from his lips, with no resentment or hurt in his voice.

“Wait! Wait. Wonwoo, just wait a moment, okay?” Seungcheol tries, “Let’s talk-”

“We just did! Look, I have to go home,” Wonwoo moves away from him with the last word he just said bubbling delicious in his tongue. He’s not running somewhere empty and alone like always, he’s going home and Mingyu will be there too.

Seungcheol watches Wonwoo glance at the chart with prices hanging on the wall nearby and places the notes on the table before looking at him once again.

“Mister?” Seungcheol snaps his head, practically scaring the waitress, “I’m sorry, but- Should I take these away?”

Seungcheol looks at her hand motioning to Wonwoo’s untouched food.

“Uh- Yeah, sure,” he mumbles, fumbling his pockets to get his wallet, “How much is it?” Seungcheol sputtered all the while glancing at the price chart and placing the whole amount on the tray the waitress’ holding.

“Sir, you have to pay at the cashier-”

“You do this for me, yeah? Here’s a tip,” Seungcheol carelessly leaves the money and rushes out of the restaurant with the money Wonwoo left on the table in his hand. As soon as Seungcheol steps out, he looks left and right before realizing he doesn’t really know which way is Wonwoo’s place.

Wonwoo smiles as soon as he turns the corner and sees Mingyu just about to cross it.

“Hey! Kim Mingyu?”

Mingyu turned at his name being called, quite amused when he saw Wonwoo and completely oblivious to the bicycle's bell ringing behind him. He frowns when Wonwoo’s smiling face turns into a concern as he rushes over to him. Mingyu turns his back to the busy traffic and Wonwoo arrives just in time to pull him away from an accident, stealing a silent gasp from him. Wonwoo smiles in relief once the potential danger is gone and Mingyu only realizes when his eyes follow Wonwoo’s and watch him apologize to the frantic, pissed off cyclist.

“You’re okay, right?” Wonwoo asks, his smile slowly curling his lips again and Mingyu’s still astounded to say anything, “Mingyu?”

“Huh?” Normally would find it irritating if someone chuckled like that at him because he looked dumb, despite knowing he probably looks pretty dumfounded right now. But, surprisingly enough he doesn’t seem to care about it because Wonwoo looks breath-taking up close.

“Are you okay?”

Mingyu swallows with a broken side smile and forces his eyes away from Wonwoo’s lips and the way they part to pull himself together and step away, clearing his throat. For once in his life feeling disconcerted, not with the situation but rather with the way his heart beats erratically, more so when Wonwoo laughs at his lost expression with his cheeks tinted in a pink color.

“Yeah, I’m fine and uhm- thank you. By the way,” Mingyu found himself to say once he regained his cool, steeping away and clearing his throat yet again as Wonwoo gives him a onceover to make sure he’s fine.

“I’m sorry I distracted you”

“So, you’re taking the responsibility now?” MIngyu can’t help but notice how Wonwoo's eyes still seem filled with worry and it caused him to try his usual nonchalant tone to voice a reply, though even for his ears, it sounds off.

“Sort of,” Wonwoo shrugged and his eyes fell on the grocery bags in Mingyu’s hand, “What’s all that?”

“Oh,” Mingyu’s eyes fall on his groceries as well, “These-”

The insignificant weight hanging from his fingers had been forgotten, but it all comes rushing in as a flashback when he thinks about it. Even though he left a good number of things back at that cashier, he’s still taking quite a lot with him, but those are quite important key ingredients. Mingyu doesn’t want to depend on any unhealthy excuse of a diet Wonwoo maintains in his fridge to increment today’s dinner.

“Just something for dinner,” Mingyu tries his best to sound casual, feeling particularly embarrassed and Wonwoo frowns.

“With all that?” Wonwoo gapes rather comically and looks up at him, “You, me and who else is coming?”

“It’s just us” Mingyu corrects with a feigned complaint, thinking that maybe this way this simple two-letter word won’t put on the same weight that it carries on his tongue.

It’s exquisite how disconcerted Mingyu feels. He steps to stand beside Wonwoo, feeling childish, somewhat like the stupid teenager he once was when his knuckles brushes the back of Wonwoo’s hand and his skin tingles, as if it’s celebrating, but, at the same time, aching to touch. Mingyu grips on his grocery bags, watching the cars rushing by in front of them while the traffic light flashes green above their heads. Mingyu finds himself sucking a gush of air sharply, considering to switch the groceries to the other hand just so he could hold Wonwoo’s hand; he was never the type of person to hold himself back anyways.

“Come on”

Mingyu’s startled back in reality by Wonwoo’s voice before feeling the hand on his back, gently urging him to walk. Mingyu has never been the kind of guy of holding back without a good reason and he doesn’t miss Wonwoo's surprised expression when their fingers intertwine.

“You left before me,” Mingyu comments absentmindedly, “How come I meet you now?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Wonwoo said, pressing the pad of his thumb on Mingyu’s knuckle.

Mingyu catches on Wonwoo’s uneasiness, but holds back any remark, it’s not his place to ask. Not really.

***

Wonwoo messes his hair running his fingers through it as he walks to the bed. Mingyu seems quite comfortable laying there, fumbling with his phone. It’s kind of like earlier, Wonwoo half-smiles as he remembers the sight in his kitchen when he walked in. Mingyu had gotten rid of his coat, his suit and tie, loosed the dress shirt, pulled up the sleeves and borrowed Wonwoo’s apron, something Wonwoo barely uses himself. Despite being something close to a stranger, Mingyu seemed quite well-suited and laid in his kitchen, as if it was his place to begin with. The food was great despite all his provocations about it during the meal.

“What are you smiling at?” Mingyu asked as Wonwoo laid down by his side, at a good distance from him.

This was different even from him, this domestic-like situation, but felt natural. Having Wonwoo laid beside him like this, it’s something Mingyu suddenly saw himself appreciating, he usually goes home to an empty place, alone and never really felt the need to change that, but Wonwoo makes him think about it . Mingyu lost focus on whatever he’s been doing on his phone, but keeps pretending anyway because he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.

“You don’t look like you’d be good at cooking,” Wonwoo confesses absentmindedly, his eyes wandering somewhere else as he pulls the covers over himself. Trying not to think of the gap between Mingyu and him on the bed. “You really looked like you knew what you were doing”

Mingyu chuckles heartedly.

“You looked like you know what you’re doing,” Wonwoo teased and Mingyu smirked

“So, did I impress you?” Mingyu provokes, “Or are you saying that just so you won’t sleep in your car?”

Wonwoo scoffs.

“It wasn’t terrible, ” he provokes, “But maybe I’ll have a fixed verdict at breakfast”

“You need to think it through the night?” Mingyu smiles

“No,” Wonwoo states, “But my final judgement will be the breakfast you promised”

Mingyu squints.

“I- didn’t promise you breakfast,” he tries stealing a glance at Wonwoo.

“You mentioned, ” Wonwoo points it out ever so cunningly, he’s laying tad lower than Mingyu on the bed and he tilts his head up ever so slightly, without really being able to see Mingyu, but enough to attract Mingyu’s eyes to him.

“No, I didn’t,” Mingyu corrects, “I said, some of those ingredients I got would be good for breakfast too”

“Oh! Was it?”

Mingyu catches an absentminded smile on Wonwoo’s lips. Mingyu gives up on pretending to be checking his phone, then and sets it aside.

“Wonwoo-”

Mingyu doesn’t quite know what to say next, there’s something he wants too say. Actually, more than just one thing and he doesn’t know how to start with them.

“What?” Wonwoo replies and the word comes out as if in a quiet hum.

“Won’t you come closer?” Mingyu provokes, “Do you intend to stay this far the whole night?” He tries his playful tone, “Thought we were way past this phase-”

Wonwoo humphs , as if in annoyance, but moves closer anyways. Mingyu soon feels Wonwoo pressing on his side, but still laying a little lower than him. Mingyu moves his arms as Wonwoo lays his head down.

“What’s-” Wonwoo jolts and looks down at Mingyu’s arm placed under his head.

“Just lay down~” Mingyu says, throwing him a quick glance and Wonwoo does as said.

“Shouldn’t you start calling hyung? ” Mingyu raises an eyebrow, looking down at Wonwoo, “I’m over a year older than you, you know?”

Mingyu feels Wonwoo’s warm body pressed on his side and he feels himself relaxing a little more at this. It finally gives him the courage to consider talking what it’s been in his mind; only if Wonwoo gives him the chance to. However, it feels like their dancing around the matter, Wonwoo seems to know and he knows it too- and, perhaps, that’s why Wonwoo doesn’t seem willing to lay down beside him.

“Alright, then-” Mingyu replies simply, swallowing the tense feeling that weighs on his chest, “ I'll start calling you hyung if you answer me properly this time ”

Mingyu glances down and sees Wonwoo frowning at the ceiling and fidgeting with the duvet.

“Answer you about what?” Wonwoo's answer comes out strangled and Mingyu can’t be more sure that answering that is unnecessary. Wonwoo knows, but he does anyway.

“What is it that you’d tell me later?” Mingyu tries and somewhere as he speaks his courage is substituted by uncertainty. Mingyu doesn’t feel in the place to ask those things, Wonwoo never promised him anything, never said anything, this is him being induced by Jeonghan’s fantasies and he’s letting himself being led on, unable to stop himself now. “I mean… About what you said earlier at the-”

“Will you call me hyung if I answer that?” Wonwoo tries a playful tone yet again, but it falls dead between them.

A silence fills the space left where words could be unnecessarily said and Mingyu looks at the ceiling too. His eyes restless, looking at nothing in particular, his mind delving in too many thought and none all at the same time. The uncertainty and restlessness inside of him contrasted with the quietness of the room. Mingyu took in a quieting, deep breath and Wonwoo waited a moment after to speak up again.

“I-” Wonwoo starts with hesitancy, pulling on his lips, trying out the words in his mind before saying them, “I met Seungcheol today.”

To Wonwoo those words feel light as feathers, but the weight lifted from his chest makes him breathe so much better now- If only Mingyu would say something back.

“Is that all?” Mingyu replies a beat too late, but it doesn’t matter all that much, but the words doesn’t soothe Wonwoo any more than the silence would and Wonwoo only hums in response. Mingyu swallows thickly, “Is there something wrong?”

Wonwoo searches for words at the corner of the room and starts to understand this needed silence that comes and goes between them. It’s heavy, not uncomfortable but definitely unsetting. They both have their minds set on something, not so sure about what the other’s thinking, what the other wants and, to Wonwoo, it’s a little scary.

“Not really-” Wonwoo starts

“So,”Mingyu indulces, “there is something wrong”

“I said not really, ” Wonwoo corrects and the sound of his attempted smile reaches Mingyu.

Mingyu holds back his tongue, not too prone into saying anything that would overstep his boundaries. But, the words fell from Wonwoo’s lips before he could put any more thoughts into it.

“I thought I loved him, now I’m not sure,” Wonwoo immediately regrets saying it out loud, but it’s not like he can take it back, so he tries selecting his words better next “It’s always like this. I- don’t know why I always chose the wrong guys”

“I’m not that great either, you know?” Mingyu says, looking at Wonwoo and shifting a little to lay on his side. Wonwoo finally looks up at him then and Mingyu moves his arm to pull him up and closer, this time. “ Hyung?” Mingyu tries and Wonwoo laughs at him,, “Sounds weird”

“Not to me,” Wonwoo retorts and Mingyu smiles in return, his eyes falling on Wonwoo’s lips.

“I never had this ,” Mingyu confesses, “You’ll have to teach me- hyung ”

It’s Wonwoo who kisses him first and a breathy moan escapes Mingyu’s lips at how sweet and soft Wonwoo kisses him. There’s no hurry, not passion or need ; Mingyu’s certainly not used to this, but he wants more of it. He wants more of holding Wonwoo’s hand and pressing him by his side. He wants more of the way Wonwoo’s fingers play with his hair and cups his jaw. Mingyu he ever expected that night at the club would end up like this, Wonwoo didn’t seem to be interested either, but if the night started with fireworks lighting up the light, then morning end up in Wonwoo’s apartment end up holding someone’s hand at the end of the day, but Wonwoo somehow made that happen and Jeonghan’s words certainly is part of it. Thankfully.

[waywardsuns]

The Rule

A/N: this is my first jack x reader fic, so please give it some love. I’m also kind of sorta working on a part 3 to Don’t Tell Anyone. We’ll see how it turns out. My ask box is open, so please feel free to send me requests! 

Word Count: 2,4 k 

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Jack Kline, Reader (Winchester sister)

Warnings: mild cutesy/sexy things (just enough to get the blood boiling)

“Burgers tonight?” Dean asked. He sat at the motel room table and sipped on a beer as he nursed the large bruise on his cheek with an ice pack. He kicked his feet up on the table and leaned back. He groaned a little when he stretched and grabbed his ribs. “God, I hate werewolves,” he muttered.

“Mhmm yeah,” Sam said. He didn’t look up from his phone. Jules had had some trouble with a hunt she had gone on and was getting advice from Sam on how to find a ghoul. Y/N was so proud of him, and how he was as a leader. Dean was just relishing time out of the bunker because he didn’t like all of the people from Apocalypse world using it at a command center. She had to say she agreed. They were all nice, but… that was home and they weren’t exactly family. The Winchester’s were just prone to finding strays. And they were definitely foster fails.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Aw come on, I’m so sick of burgers. Let’s find something else.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, okay. Like what?”

“Well, I thought I saw a Chick-fil-a on our way in…” she sang.

Sam locked the screen of his phone. “No, yeah. She’s right, that’s better.” He dropped his phone on the table next to Dean and grabbed his own beer out of the fridge.

Dean nodded and pulled his wallet out and dropped thirty bucks on the table. “Get me something spicy.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Whatever. Keys?” Y/N made a grabby motion with her hand.

He held them just out of her reach with two fingers. “Do not crash my fucking car.”

Y/N threw her hands up and looked at Sam for support. “You were the one to teach me how to drive. If I crash, you’re responsible.” She leaned across the table and snatched the Impala’s keys before he could yank them back again. “Hey Jack, you wanna come?”

Jack looked up from the book he was reading on one of the beds. He’d always liked learning about popular culture, so it was obvious that she would give him the Harry Potter books to read. Y/N and Sam pitched in to buy the whole set, on the premise that you all could share it if one of you wanted to reread one of the books. He dog-eared a page in The Goblet of Fire and started tying his shoelaces. “Sure. What’s Chick-fil-a?”

She grabbed his jacket and tossed it to him. “Uh, I guess it’s like church, but they sell chicken.”

“That’s very accurate,” Sam chuckled.

“Hey,” Dean called as she reached for the door. “Will you get me a Dr. Pepper? Please.”

Sam turned his head and smiled. “Me too.”

“Sure.” She grabbed Jack’s arm and pulled him out of the door before her brothers could make any more special requests.

As Y/N started the car and pulled onto the street she reached for Jack’s hand. “Sorry if you were reading your book, I just really wanted to spend some time with you without Sam and Dean there.”

Jack squeezed her hand and brought it up to his mouth to place a kiss on her knuckles. “No, I’m glad you did. It’s hard being around them with you.”

As she slowed down to stop at a red light she leaned over to kiss him. He slid a hand over her knee. Jack was especially good at keeping boundaries, always making sure that she was okay with anything he did. She took his hand and guided it higher up on her thigh, because she on the other hand, probably would have been okay with no boundaries. Jack had just slid his tongue across her bottom lip eliciting a sigh from her when a honk that came from behind them forced them to jump apart to opposite sides of the car.

“Shit,” Y/N stepped on the gas and peeled away from the now green light. For the rest of the drive, Jack kept her right hand firmly clasped in his, every now and then rubbing his thumb over hers. Though the gesture was nice, Y/N desperately wanted that hand to be somewhere else on her body.

The line was five cars deep when they got there and it gave them time to talk about the important things: Harry Potter. It passed the time quick, they were in the middle of an argument about which was the best book, up to where Jack was when she had to pause to order.

As she was relaying the order she could feel Jack’s lips where her neck met her shoulder; her sweet spot. She struggled to keep her voice level as she thanked the cashier and she pulled up.

“What are you doing?” She giggled. Instead of pushing him away, Y/N grabbed his shoulder and pulled him closer. It was so uncharacteristic of Jack to initiate something like that, especially in public, with car windows that had virtually no tint on them.

“Sorry,” he murmured against her neck. Ah fuck.

“No, don’t be sorry. I was just wondering.” He had moved away far enough that she could look in his eyes. “Jack, you can do whatever you want to me,” she whispered. And she meant it. She didn’t know why she said it in the front seat of her brother’s car, but she had meant every word.

Jack kissed her slow and deep. It made Y/N feel like her body was sinking into the leather bench. Her stomach dropped to her curling toes as he ran his long fingers up her thigh to the waistband of her jeans and then back down to her knee. God, he was teasing her. The worst part was having to pull herself back to reality to make sure she kept a tight foot on the brake and to move up in line every so often.

He pressed a kiss to her cheek as she handed the cashier the cash who gave her a sweet smile in return.

“You two are cute,” she said as she handed out the drinks and food.

“Thanks,” Y/N said hesitantly. And she realized this was the first time that she and Jack had ever gone out together as a couple. Most of their time was spent alone in one of their rooms, late at night so no one would catch them. They’d never had the luxury of going out because someone–Sam, Dean, or Cas–was always with them.

She pulled out of the drive-thru and into a close parking spot before throwing the car into park and sliding across the bench seat, closer to Jack.

He ran his thumb down her jaw as he kissed her. In no time, she had thrown her leg over his and straddled him, running her fingers through his soft hair. Jack moaned as she dragged her nails along the back of his neck, and she could feel his cock twitch with interest beneath her. He dragged his tongue across her bottom lip and every nerve in Y/N body tingled. Jack gripped her ass and pulled her tight against him so their chests pressed together and between the thin t-shirts and jackets she could feel his heart pounding – or maybe it was hers. She fought against every urge in her body that told her to take this to the back-seat, only to pull her lips away and press their foreheads together. They both were panting and grabbing at each other’s clothes, anything to get closer to one another.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” she murmured.

Jack chuckled lightly. He rubbed the tops of her thighs which sent tingles straight to her core. “Don’t apologize for that.” He leaned in to kiss Y/N again but she slid off his lap and out of the way of those soft, soft lips…

“No, I’m just sorry that I got us both worked up. If we don’t get this food back to Sam and Dean, they’re going to call and wonder where we are.”

Jack sighed disappointedly and pulled on the legs of his jeans, obviously trying to relieve some of the tightness and adjust himself. Y/N tore her gaze away from the bulge in his pants and began to crack her knuckles. She put the car in drive and peeled out of the parking lot.

“It’s just–” she shook her head, “they can’t know. They’d kill us both.”

“Stop apologizing,” Jack said. “I know they can’t know. Don’t worry about it.”

‘God, he was so fucking sweet.’ She thought to herself. He just wanted her to be happy. She knew he didn’t actually care if Sam and Dean knew about whatever this was between them. Actually, he’d probably be more relieved if they did know. But Jack also understood how overprotective they could be.

Y/N rubbed a hand across her face. She could still smell Jack from across the bench; his shampoo, his deodorant, everything that was Jack and it was stuck in her nose, intoxicating her. She reached down and cranked the handle to roll the window down. The fall air whipped at her cheeks and cooled her down instantly, and any smell of Jack escaped through the window into the night.

“All I want to do is rip your clothes off and throw you in the back seat,” she growled. “And it doesn’t even bother me that Sam and Dean have both used it as their personal ‘conjugal trailer’. I just want you.” She peeked at him out of the corner of her eyes, wondering if she had gone too far. It had to be as miserable for him as it was for her. But Jack was staring out of the window on his side, smiling.

“We might just have to break our rule.” Jack shrugged. Y/N was watching the headlights bounce over the road but she could feel Jack watching for her reaction. Y/N’s body got hot all over again. She hummed in approval.

The rule he was speaking of was something they made up over hushed tones in her bedroom one night that seemed ages ago. One of the many nights they gathered in her room and watched movies and kissed until their lips were throbbing and they ached to touch each other. Huddled under her covers, they promised they’d keep things between them under wraps, that meant, they’d never do anything with the boys home. And the implication that they should have sex with Cas and Sam and Dean around, the latter two sleeping in rooms just down the hall was both frightening and exciting.

Y/N pulled into the parking lot and turned the car off. There were so many things that she wanted to say to Jack before they got out of the car; before they had to pretend that nothing was going on in front of Sam and Dean again. The words were sweet on her tongue and Jack lapped them up. She didn’t have to say anything, he just knew.

“Dude, I’m starving. Where the fuck are they?” Dean asked Sam for the fourth time. His hands were on his hips and he paced the length of the room. “I’m gonna start eating the fucking walls.”

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean’s dramatics and let him complain. He continued scrolling around through small-town newspapers and obituaries looking for cases to dole out to the hunters living at the Bunker. Dean crossed behind him and pressed his forehead to the window like a child waiting for his parents return after a night out.

“Thank god,” he sighed. “They’re pulling in.” He continued to hold the curtains open just far enough so he could see. Just as he was about to turn his head, and close the curtains, he froze.

“Oh,” he softly mumbled.

Sam scoffed. “‘Oh’ what, Dean? Did you spot the wrong black ‘67 Impala?”

“They’re kissing,” he said, disgustedly.

Sam couldn’t have heard that right. He whipped his head around and sure enough, Dean was still staring out the window like a peeping Tom, making sure that only his head was visible through the dingy curtains. Sam jumped up and ripped one side of them out of Dean’s hands.

A few doors down parked–Jesus–right under a light, was Y/N and Jack. If it hadn’t been his little sister and the son of the devil in the front seat of that car, he might have found it a little endearing, like ‘aw, young kids in love’ or whatever. She had her hand wrapped firmed around the back of his neck, and well, he couldn’t even see where Jack’s hands were, and they were clearly tonguing each other.

Dean dropped the curtain. “When did that happen?”

Sam pulled his eyes away in shock. “I don’t know. They seemed close but I thought they were just friends. Just happy to have someone their own age around, you know?”

“Oh yeah, they’re real happy alright.”

Dean stole another glance. “Aw, shit.” he yanked the curtains closed so hard that he nearly broke the rod. “They’re coming inside.”

“What do we do?!” Sam asked.

Dean looked around the room frantically before pushing Sam’s chest. “Sit back down. We’re clearly not supposed to know, so act like it.” He moved back over to sit across from Sam at the table. He grabbed his beer and took a large swig.

Sam went to do the same when his breath caught in his throat. “Dean, don’t they usually sleep in the same bed on hunts?”

Dean choked and sputtered on his beer. It dribbled down his chin and he wiped at it hastily as the door opened. They came in laughing about something that Sam didn’t know what was in reference to; something to do with what the cashier at Chick-fil-a said to them. Jack set the food down in the middle of the table and Y/N plopped the two Dr. Peppers in a drink holder down next to it. She pulled one out and set it in front of Dean, and then pulled the other out and fitted her lips around the straw and took a quick sip before putting it in front of Sam.

Sam stared at the straw that had just been in Y/N’s mouth. Normally, it wouldn’t bother him in the slightest. But now that he knew that Jack’s tongue had been in her mouth not five minutes ago–

He shoved the styrofoam cup back towards her. “You can have it,” he said quickly.

Dean snorted and Sam threw him a glare. Luckily, Y/N didn’t pay him any mind. “Thanks, Sammy.”

[britaisy]

Lost Boys (Solangelo college au fanfic)

Synopsis:  Nico Di’Angelo and Will Solace enter college with the lingering hope that they are entering a new, better chapter of their lives.They see college as the golden opportunity to escape their grim pasts, a chance for a fresh, happy start. They soon discover that reality is not so peachy. Their flaws, torments and past are leeched on them and along with a new chapter, they welcome new problems, new pains, new struggles. They learn that ‘happy’ is something you build on everyday’ and that life never submits to plans.

—-

                              CHAPTER 1: FIRST IMPRESSIONS

When the taxi halted Nico was harshly snapped out of his brooding. The abrupt stop jerking his torso forward, against the, thankfully, secure, seat-belt, perhaps the only functional piece in the malfunctioning, tatty taxi that had picked him up in his haste.  

 “Here ye’ are, kid” the driver croaked in his hoarse voice, probably the inevitable result of decades of blackening his lungs with cigars, Nico mused.

 “Yeah, thanks” the boy deadpanned, unfastening the belt before fishing out his wallet from his jacket’s pocket, discreetly pulling out a handful of dollars.

 “That’s some nice wallet you got there, kid. Your ol’ man rich or somethin’?”

 Nico’s eyes lifted to the driver, narrowing at the glimmering greediness in his blanched by age eyes that were pinned on the handsome, black leather wallet, like a raccoon catching glimpse of a gold nugget. The boy shoved the wallet back into his pocket.

 “Here’s the money. Keep the change” he coldly responded, placing the dollars in the driver’s callous, wrinkled palm.

 Indifferent to hear the driver’s reply, Nico bolted out of the taxi, eager to move his legs after a two-hour drive in the small, restricting back seat. He rapidly removed his suitcase from the  car’s trunk and stepped away as the taxi roared back to life, the driver avid for stripping another customer from a couple of dollar bills.

 His chest heaved as his lungs breathed fresh air in avarice. The odor of cigars from the old taxi-driver’s full ash-tray was still lingering beneath Nico’s nostrils, making the boy scowl, exacerbating his already foul mood.  He took another hungry breath, this time to steady his anxiety-ridden heart-beat.

 He was here. He made it.

 Lanky fingers subconsciously stroked the cold surface of the silver ring on the forefinger on his right hand, a gesture seeking for reassurance, comfort, and strength. Gripping the suitcase in determination he turned around to face the entrance of his college’s campus.

 The campus was spurting with life. A mop of students hurried along a wide slanted road that was placed in the middle of two large patches of vividly-colored, fake grass. Students with identical T-shirts handed out leaflets, inviting wondering newbies to freshers’ week events. Behind stands, stood grinning people, trying to fish as many freshers for their societies as possible.

 Nico’s heartbeat picked up on the busy rhythm of the campus. His limbs were trembling with anxiousness and anticipation. ‘This is it’, he kept repeating to himself. ‘You are not running away from this. You are doing this’. This was the only chance he could get for a fresh start. This was the opportunity he had been waiting to escape his past, to walk down a new path.

 Without any second thoughts, he pulled on his suitcase, entering the front gate to be immediately swallowed by the buzzing crowd.

—

Life was a huge bitch. Obviously, this was something Nico had come to acknowledge from quite a young age. Nevertheless, it was a fact that never ceased to miss the opportunity to be cruelly rubbed on his face. The boy stood in the narrow corridor of his college accommodation, arms crossed in front of his chest. An exasperated expression was contorting his pale face as he glared at the sturdy, blond boy before him

Jason Grace fidgeted with the edges of his blue shirt awkwardly, trying his best to avoid his friend’s fierce glare. Nico may was small in size, but damn, Jason could name a couple of quarterbacks who would flinch away from the boy’s glare.

“I am sorry Neeks” he mumbled for the tenth time, hand jumping to his short blond hair. “You know I didn’t do it on purpose. I wanted us to be roommates, but I got distracted and by the time I applied, your floor was already booked. But, I will be living on the floor below, so we’ll still hang all the time!”

“Living in the floor below with your best mate, Bryan” Nico bitterly added. “Football bros living together, talking about muscles and chicks’ asses, how very American.”  

Jason’s chiselled face hardened at the sharpness in Nico’s tone. He liked the boy. No matter how many times the boy snorted and denied it, Nico was his best friend, he knew things about Jason that he had never said to any of his ‘football bros’. Jason was patient with him, but there were times when Nico just didn’t know how to restrain his spite and there were some times when Jason just wasn’t in the mood to deal with it.

“Can you not do this please?” he pleaded, tone tired. “There’s no reason to be so spiteful towards Bryan. He’s never done anything to you.”

“Well, he sure doesn’t smile up to his ears when he sees me, does he? Wasn’t he the one who called me a ‘spoilt punk brat’? Or was that Matt? Either way, they are all the same. All the lot carry the same rotten brains, must be all the tackling”

“I am part of that lot” Jason retorted, eyebrows knitting, the faintest wrinkle of annoyance folding the skin between his brows. “You know what, whatever” Jason decided shaking his head. “I can’t talk with you when you are like this. Settle in, I’ll come pick you up tonight for the freshers’ party.”

The blond shoved his hands in his jacket, gave the smaller boy a nod and walked away. Turning his head, Nico snorted as his eyes pinned upon his best friend. “Send dear Bryan my love” he called out after him, sarcasm lacing his tone.

Nico continued watching his friend walking away until he pushed open the door to the stair case and disappeared behind it. He cursed under his breath, anger still simmering inside him. They had talked about living together in college. They had made plans, a list of movies to watch and trashy things to eat. But, Jason of course had to take his sweet time applying for housing. The ‘distraction’ he had mentioned was most certainly one of those stupid parties the football team threw after term end. The kind of parties Nico was never invited to.

The mere thought of Jason partying it up with the sort of jerks who grimaced whenever Nico was in their general direction supplied his anger like fuel poured into fire. He gripped the handle of his case excessively tight, until his knuckles turned white and he could feel his nails digging into his palm. Then, he felt guilty for being pissed at the idea of Jason having fun without him, even with people he didn’t like. He didn’t own Jason, unlike him; Jason had a life with several other friends in it other than his own miserable ass. Why was he so gooddamn petty?

“Fuck this” He hissed to himself, hand reaching for the door key in his pocket which he had received from the sour-looking, middle aged receptionist on the first floor. With his shitty luck, his roommate would be a weirdo, probably a pervert with questionable objects hidden under his bed. Sighing, he put the key in the lock and paused before turning it. There was a fair chance his roommate was in there and him walking into a bad moment.

He pulled out the key and knocked on the door. Better safe than sorry.  He’d much rather avoid any unnecessary awkwardness.  A considerable amount of time seemed to pass without anything happening. Whoever he was, his roommate was not inside, which was great news. Nico wouldn’t have to be forced into an awkward get-to-know each other. He was about to reach for his keys when the door knob clicked. The door was opened with a creaking sound to reveal a wet boy with a towel firmly wrapped around his waist.

“Ah, sorry about this, I was in the shower” he started. “May I help you?”

There was a slight southern accent lingering in his tone, Nico noticed. Briefly, his dark eyes run over him. He was tanned and had fair hair damped darker with water.

“I am Nico. I will be living here. I assume you are my roommate?”

“Oh, It’s nice to meet you” the blond extended a hand. “Name’s Will, Will Solace”

Nico gave Will’s hand a curt shake before looking over his shoulder to the room. “So, shall I come in?” 

“Of course, need any help with your baggage?” he politely offered, a smile forming on his face.

He was nice enough for now, Nico mused. Then again, first impressions, scientifically proven, are almost always false.

“Nah, I got it” He lifted his bag and walked into the room once Will had stepped aside to let him pass. The room was rather small to what Nico was usually accustomed, too. Yet again, the bedroom in his home was extravagantly big, so perhaps, this is what was considered to be average size. There were two single beds on each far side of the room, each of them paired up with a nightstand with a sad-looking olive coloured lamp sitting on top.  One of the walls consisted of two identical wardrobes and right beside the wall stood a double desk with two chairs, stripped with sunbeams that peeked through the curtained window on top of it.  

It was okay, Nico guessed. He hadn’t had high hopes, anyway. He didn’t particularly care of the size. On a positive note, the beige walls were vacant, which made him feel glad for bringing some of his posters with him.

“So…eh, I’ll let you settle in” Will pondered, smiling yet again, before, in Nico’s delight, retreating into a small door which must be the shower.

He threw himself on the bed, feeling the springs bouncing under his weight and settled himself in the middle of the pillow, forearms wrapped behind his head, his dark eyes staring at the beige roof above him.  This wasn’t half-bad, he could fill up his part of the wall with his posters, make the place feel more like him. All he really needed was somewhere to sleep and somewhere to put his laptop and books on, and he seemed to have all that, so he was satisfied. The great matter at hand was the roommate.

Still embittered by Jason’s betrayal, Nico frowned. If this blond dude turned out to be some perverted psycho serial killer, he was totally going to put the blame on Jason for being murdered. Will smiled a lot and really brightly, which was something Nico did not trust. Yet, again, Jason always pointed out that he never trusted anyone despite the way they acted or behaved.

‘I trust you’ Nico would begrudgingly say. “Only me” Jason would respond back. “And that is because we are neighbours and I have the patience of a saint”

Nico knew Jason was right. But he had come to the conclusion that it was easier not to trust people, not to expect anything from them. Humans had the remarkable ability of turning everything into shit. You held them up to some certain standards and then right away they would do something to crush that down and Nico had grown exhausted of picking up pieces of shattered trust.

Hearing a door shutting close, Nico turned to watch Will, now dressed in cargo pants and shirt, sitting awkwardly on his bed. He beamed a flashy smile his way that did not quiver even when it was met with Nico’s deadpan expression.

“So, Nico, are you a fresher?”

Small talk. Nico hated small talk.

“Yeah” he replied, waiting a long minute before dully adding. “You?”

“Same.”

Awkward silence, Will was still smiling. Nico wondered if his facial muscles were problematic or something.

“There’s the freshers’ party tonight . Are you going?”

“I guess” Nico was painfully aware he had no say in this. Jason would be banging on his door , kick it down if he had to, and carry him on his very own shoulder to make sure he went to the party. Jason just couldn’t accept the fact that Nico simply did not socialise. He hadn’t attended many parties, but the ones he had always concluded in two ways. He would either end up in a fight with a guy considerably bigger than him for failing to keep his mouth shut, or he would end up pinned against the wall having his face sucked by a drunk.

“Look, there’s no need to make small talk” Nico started, sitting up on his bed. Will made a funny face, his eyebrows travelling up in the middle of his forehead.

“Okay” he retorted in an uncanny manner.

“I don’t mean to come off as rude” Nico drily added. “I am just saying that there’s no need for the awkward talk. We don’t have to be friends just because we ended up in the same room. I will mind my own business and you will mind yours and we are going to be just fine”

Will rolled his eyes at him and regarded him with a long, blank look. “Sure, if that’s what you like” he finally replied, tone betraying nothing. Nico watched as the blond stood up, picked up a book from his desk and settled back on his bed, no longer paying attention to him.

Alright, perhaps he had been a bit cold. Jason had pissed him off and he wasn’t used to meeting new people without Jason being around to guide him. This was new and the day had been stressful enough already.

“Look, Will, I am sorry for coming off as an arse. I am just…a bit tired.”

Will looked up from his book, eyes fixing on Nico. He had blue eyes, Nico listlessly noted, same as Jason’s, only Will’s were slightly darker.

“Nah, it’s really fine. You are fine. To be honest, I am looking for some quite time, as well. So, each of us minding his own business sounds just fine to me. I have some hard studies ahead of me, so I think we will mesh well. Though, yeah, you did come off as an arse.”

Nico lifted an eyebrow, propping his right leg on his left knee. “Well, glad we settled that out then. I will now take a nap and spare us both of more awkwardness. So, catch you later!”

Nico lay down on his bed again, resting his head against the flat, hard pillow before shutting his eyes. Hopefully sleep would improve his mood.

[thestoryweneededtowrite]

Javid Titanic AU - Part 14

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

“Here, now it’s official,” Jack grandly proclaimed, signing his name roughly at the bottom of the sketch and adding the date beside it.

It was a drawing he could look at forever, if he did say so himself. Davey was gorgeous and even if he’d only managed to capture maybe half of that on the paper, it was still breathtaking. The one thing missing was those beautiful blue eyes. Jack was going to have to paint Davey at some point – he was already imagining just how long it would take to mix the perfect shade.

Leaning forward to give Davey a gentle kiss, Jack smiled fondly when he pulled the bed sheet back up over his chest. He had nothing to be self-conscious about but if being more covered up made Davey comfortable then that was something Jack could respect. He lifted up the opposite corner of the sheet so he could wriggle underneath too, and handed the paper over. “You don’t want to keep it?” Davey asked, confused. It was a wonderful drawing and he felt a little disappointed that Jack didn’t want to add it to the collection in his sketchbook. Was he not proud of it? Or did he not want the memory? “Why don’t ya look after it for me?” Jack hummed, unsure what else to say. But Davey was looking at him sadly and he had to at least try an explanation. “I want ya to have something to remember this night by. Something real.”

Blinking, Davey frowned. “Where are you planning on going?” “Davey, we both know…” Jack sighed. This was a great fantasy-come-true, probably for both of them. But the heir to a fortune didn’t end up with the painter with nothing, not even in his dreams. “What are ya gonna do when this ship docks, huh? Do ya even know?” “Come with you,” Davey answered without a beat. He sure wasn’t going to be dedicating his live completely to Judaism and becoming a rabbi, wife and all. God would understand – he’d given him these feelings for men after all.

Jack pretended that was going to work for all of thirty seconds. He tucked Davey’s hair behind his ear and brushed the back of his knuckles against his bare cheek. “Dave…” he tried, attempting to be the sensible one.

Davey wasn’t going to listen. He just wanted to be unreasonable for a while. Turning away, he pushed down the burgeoning desire to cry. “Let’s not... Look, we’ve still got a couple of days. Please, I… I can’t think about this now,” he begged.

Jack never wanted to make Davey cry, and it was so tempting to end the conversation there and kiss a smile back to his lips. But that wasn’t how real life worked. It wasn’t just a case of what happened when they were on US soil. “Do you even know what yous gonna do tomorrow, Davey? Or as soon as we walk outta this room? Because I ain’t pretending to know ya mother well or anythin’, but I… Well, she ain’t gonna be happy…” Jack winced, trailing off. He didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Esther’s rage unless absolutely necessary.

Davey groaned and pulled the sheet over his head. He didn’t want to deal with the reality of his decisions, but nothing changed what he’d chosen. Rejecting and ignoring his feelings just weren’t an option, even if that meant cutting ties with his family entirely. “Can I stay with you?” he asked, his voice muffled by the bedding. “What?” Jack laughed, rolling closer and tugging the sheet down so he could see those eyes. “Down in third class, can I stay with you?” Davey repeated. “I might not be welcome up here anymore.”

The room seemed to get several degrees colder with the possibility of his abandonment out there in the open. Jack shivered and threw an arm over Davey’s waist to pull him closer. Conserving body heat and all.

“I…” Jack sighed, unsure. He was sharing a room with three other guys and whilst they seemed nice that didn’t mean they weren’t going to be potentially wildly homophobic if he brought a guy back to share his bed. But he wasn’t about to leave Davey somewhere he could get hurt. “Yeah, I’ll find a way. I just want you safe.”

“I just want you,” Davey replied, unabashed.

Jack grinned, mumbled “You have me” against Davey’s temple and shuffled so he could kiss him back against the pillow.

Davey could tell that he wasn’t going to be getting anything done whilst he had Jack between his sheets.

***

It was another hour before they finally climbed out of bed. Sensing that Davey would be far more at ease dressing alone in his own space, Jack excused himself to the sitting room with a kiss and smile to start poking around at all the luxuries a first class ticket got you on the biggest ship in the world.

As soon as he was by himself Davey couldn’t help but grin uncontrollably, dragging a pillow over his face to hide some of the embarrassing euphoria that he had to express somehow before it killed him. When he dropped his hands back down he brushed against the edge of the sketch and he sat up so he could look at it properly. He liked the way he looked, not quite able to believe that this was the way Jack saw him. But he wanted to protect the drawing, like it was a little window into something that was just theirs. The safe in the corner of his room came to mind and he crossed the carpet to twist the dial to the combination, Sarah’s birthday, and carefully slid the piece of paper in. His parents wouldn’t be able to open it and Sarah wouldn’t dare to invade his privacy like that. It was safe.

Clothes had to come next. Davey started pulling out shirt after shirt, trying to find one that he wanted to put on. He stared at the pile of clothes he’d created on his bed, suddenly hating them all. He didn’t want to dress in layer after layer, buttoned up to his neck and everything tucked in. The thought of pulling a starched shirt back on made him wrinkle his nose. It was the uniform of a rank he was self-demoting himself from. He didn’t want to be Rich Boy anymore.

Jack’s faded blue shirt, wrinkled and worn thin at the elbows and hem, caught his eye from where it had been haphazardly thrown earlier, still half-buttoned. Picking it up, Davey pulled it over his head and tugged the fabric to his nose to inhale deeply. There was a lingering smell of wool, and a little of cigarette smoke. Mainly Jack, though. A scent Davey was new to but quickly falling in love with; it was hard not to already connect it with safety.

Tucking the shirt in, Davey relaxed into it. This felt better already - more comfortable. It didn’t exactly go with his trousers, but he wasn’t going to take it off. He was watching himself in the mirror, brushing his fingers through his hair to loosen the gel, when Jack walked in.

Finding Davey in his clothes sent a shot of pleasure up Jack’s spine. It was a web of emotions - some of it was possessive, but most of it was devotion.

“Cute, but what am I gonna wear?” he smiled, walking up behind Davey and putting his hands on his hips, tracing small circles. He was never going to get tired of touching this man.

“Take your pick,” Davey suggested, gesturing towards the clothes he’d discarded in an attempt to find something that felt right.

Jack let out a low whistle. Those clothes were expensive, far warmer and far better made than anything he’d ever owned. He had no idea why Davey would opt for his old shirt over this selection.

“Serious?” he asked.

When Davey just shrugged, Jack sifted through the pile of clothes on the bed to find a simple white shirt, a little loose and something that was perhaps a little older that some of the others. It felt lived in, soft, like it was one of Davey’s favourites out of the pile of almost identical white shirts. But Davey grinned when he picked it up, and Jack was convinced that he’d somehow picked correctly. Shrugging the shirt on and doing up half the buttons over his pale striped vest, he held his arms out and turned a slow circle for Davey’s amusement and approval.

“Cute,” Davey echoed, his hands going to Jack’s waist to pull him close. He kissed him softly and was just considering taking steps to relieve Jack of his clothes entirely again when a knock sounded at the door.

Dropping his hands like he’d already been caught, Davey span around and took several large steps further away from the door. He’d been gone long enough for people to start looking for him, he knew that. He’d locked the door, but he wasn’t invincible. It was just wood.

“Mr Jacobs,” a voice sounded, unmistakably Snyder. “Your parents thought it best I check up on you.”

Davey stifled a growl of despair. Check up. That was bullshit. They wanted to make sure he wasn’t with Jack, make sure he was never with Jack. And he wouldn’t accept it. Jack was looking at him, clearly waiting for him to make a decision on what to do next. His first thought was to stay put; they were on the safest side of a locked door and Snyder wasn’t about to break it down when anyone could see. That was going to cause even more problems.

The sound of a key in the lock sounded, and Davey held his breath, reaching for Jack’s hand. But the key he’d left in his side stayed soundly in place, refusing to budge. This was working. He let the breath go, relaxing a little. Only then footsteps echoed down the hall, and Davey knew Snyder wasn’t just giving up. He thought it through, fast as he could manage.

His room connected to Sarah’s.

It hadn’t been a problem. He’d known she was at dinner, and she’d never walk into his room without knocking when she had an inkling Jack was in there with him. They’d been respecting each other’s privacy as it was, let alone when potential lovers were added to the mix. But it meant he hadn’t thought to lock Sarah’s door.

“We have to go,” he insisted, pulling a confused Jack with him as he unlocked the door and hurried them both out into the hall.

“My drawings!” Jack whined, hating to leave them behind. But he followed Davey without a question, because that was what trust was.

Forcing himself to walk slowly and normally, and silently praying Jack would follow beside him, Davey headed away from his rooms. He had no end destination in mind, but it was clear he couldn’t be caught. Not in his room alone with Jack. Not with the bedsheets tangled and such a revealing a drawing of himself in the safe. The realisation that the picture had been left behind was a pang in his heart, but turning around wasn’t an option. Snyder could have them both arrested the second they set foot on American soil. He wasn’t sure what the laws were at sea about what he and Jack had done, but it was pretty clear on land. They were technically criminals, and he didn’t have a way out of that. But he didn’t plan on stopping either. He knew his parents would rather see him in jail then happy with a man.

“Hey!” a voice yelled behind them, and Davey immediately knew that blending in wasn’t going to work.

“Go!” he shouted, taking off as soon as he was certain Jack would follow. Even as he ran down the corridors, dodging round unsuspecting passengers with Jack at his side, Davey was grinning. This felt like living, finally.

[booksncoffee]

how you get the boy - five

“He’s probably mean to you cos he likes you.”

“Riiight.” I rolled my eyes as I began to make my way to my room.

read below // story page

Three weeks ago, I would say that I was 100 percent positive that this year would be the year of Tenley.

Unluckily, the confidence that I once possessed had deceased, leaving me with nothing but scepticism to hold on to as I went through my days. Even though a month hadn’t yet passed, there was already a massive pattern of things not going as planned for me. Universe was, apparently, no longer on my side and I blamed no one but a certain curly head bloke named Harry Styles. And his blond haired ally, Niall Horan who couldn’t keep his big mouth shut even if his life depended on it.  

Ever since his suspicion was confirmed, Harry couldn’t stop pestering me about it whenever he got the chance to do so. And although it had only been two days, I was utterly done with him and his stupid smirk that was always on full display each time he saw me. Niall, on the other hand, had been avoiding me since that night, for he knew that something bad would happen to him if I were to be in the same room as him. Though he was my friend, I hated him just as much as I hated Harry at the moment.  

Had Shiloh not knocked some sense into me, I was certain that both Niall and Harry’s bodies would have been found dead the next morning and I would have been thrown to the jail straightaway for murder because who else would kill the two of them at the same time if it wasn’t me.

“S’not that bad,” Shiloh said, head tilting to the side while she made an attempt to scan my face that was surprisingly void of emotions at the moment despite how much of a mess my mind was.

“Please, you’re only saying that ‘cause you’ve seen him half naked and now you can’t stop thinking about him!” I exclaimed, earning a few dirty looks from people around me. Some even had the nerve to hush me. If we weren’t in the library I would have showed them the bird and told them to sod off, but unfortunately for me, we were.

Shiloh didn’t speak until she saw that I had gradually calmed down, my eyes no longer shooting daggers at a group of people whom I wasn’t particularly keen on sitting at the table next to ours. “Y’know, I don’t think he’ll tell Louis.”

Diverting my focus from the textbook in front of me to Shiloh, I looked straight into her green eyes that were already fixed on mine, “Do you know Harry Styles, Shi? He’s The Jackass in case you forgot?”

Naturally, she rolled her eyes at the indignant tone I was using, knowing full well that the overreacting side of me had come out of its hiding and making its grand appearance. It was her fault anyway for bringing up Harry’s name. We were having a pleasant – and rather steamy – conversation about Liam Payne and Zayn Malik when she decided to ask me about Jackass. As if he’s worthy enough for us to drop the topic of those two beautiful men and talk about him instead.

But alas, since I needed to vent my fury towards Harry and Niall to someone, I told her everything that happened two nights ago.

“From a good chunk of what you’ve told me, Tee, I can tell that he loves taking the piss out of you.”

“Clearly,” I said with a roll of my eyes and a huff. Although Shiloh was one of the brightest people I had known, she had the tendency to point out the obvious, making her another person who loved to take the piss out of me because she knew how much I hated it when she did that.

Pushing a strand of hair away from poking her in the eye, she enunciated each word slowly and carefully, “The problem with you, my gullible friend, is that you take the bait all the time.”

My initial reaction was to tell her that she was out of her mind. I was not gullible and most importantly, I’d never taken baits from anyone especially Harry. But just as I opened my mouth to speak, I realised that she was right – as much as I hated to acknowledge it. For the past few weeks, I’d been nothing but an innocent dupe in Harry’s little game. A game that I didn’t want to participate in yet somehow I tripped over an invisible rope and now I had gotten myself tangled in the web he’d created without me realising it.

“Hey, s’not the end of the world, yeah?” Shiloh said in a softer tone, her hand reaching out for mine so she could squeeze it reassuringly. It’d never failed to amaze me how she managed to put up with me despite the amount of times I’d been telling her that my life was ruined since the night Niall opened his bloody mouth when in reality, it was just a small bump in the road. “You can handle this, you can handle Harry.”

Once again, Shiloh was right and I took her reassurance with great pride. I could handle Harry. He was just another bloke who derived great pleasure from vexing me, be it with his remarks or empty threats, and I’d handled a number of gits before in my life – one of them was my brother. Surely I could handle another one.

“You’re right,” I nodded, feeling my chest expanded with newfound self-confidence. Perhaps Shiloh was the one I should turn to whenever I felt like my confidence was deflating because she sure knew how to stroke my ego, making me feel like I was on top of the world – or at least on top of the things that rattled me – even though I wasn’t.

Sometimes, it was just nice to know that someone believed in you, you know?

“I know I am,” Shiloh winked before she slipped her notes into her textbook so she wouldn’t lose it and so they wouldn’t be a mess and kept them in her tote bag. “C’mon let’s get out of here.”

I kinked an eyebrow at her though I’d already dog-eared the page I’d been reading for the past thirty minutes the second she mentioned the word c’mon. Much like Shiloh, I was more than ready to leave this library too, but I didn��t mention a word about leaving. And that was all because of the promise I’d made earlier today which was to keep her accompanied while she studied for her upcoming test. “Now?”

She hummed her response, tapping her knuckles against the table as she waited for me to keep my stuff.

“I thought you wanted to study until-“ I paused, clicking the home button of my mobile phone and checking the time displayed on the bright screen, “4? It’s only 3.”

“Well, I’m hungry,” she whined before she pointed her finger at my still opened textbook, “And you’ve been staring at the same page for half an hour.” When she saw the surprised expression on my face, she added with a scoff, “Yes, Tee, I noticed everything.”

Seeing that it was hungry Shiloh that I was dealing it, I chose not to say anything in reply, pressing my lips together as I kept my textbook in my bag and stood up from the chair to which she mirrored my action instantly.

Once we were out of the library, I turned to her and held up one finger between us, “One question.”

Annoyed that I had just made us stop walking all of sudden, she huffed and nodded her head, nonetheless.

Licking my lips, I cleared my throat before I spoke, for I wanted my voice to be as clear as the daylight. “Do you honestly think I could handle Harry?”

I could tell that an irritated groan was threatening to escape her lips judging by the way she was throwing her head back, hands going up to their air before they dropped to her sides. But instead of proving to me that she was annoyed, she swallowed the groan and said, “Yes, Tee, you can handle just about anyone.”

&&

Shiloh was a bloody liar.

I couldn’t handle just about anyone let alone Harry Styles. Okay, maybe I could handle anyone but Harry, the annoying git whom I wouldn’t mind murdering if it meant that I would be free of him. The idea of living in jail wasn’t as bad as the idea of having to put up with Harry for as long as he was my neighbour.

And that was all because he scared the living daylights out of me while I was in the middle of searching for my key that I’d hastily thrown in my bag when I left the flat in the morning. His unexpected shouts aimed directly at my ears elicited a loud scream from me who no longer cared if the neighbours hated me after this. As if that wasn’t bad enough, I dropped my bag that I was holding with one hand, the contents came spilling out of it once it hit the floor. All of that was the least of my concern when I saw that my mobile phone was also on the floor along with my textbooks and stationeries.  

For someone who was supposed to have a good hearing, I hadn’t a clue as to how the sound of his heavy footsteps went unnoticed by me as he went behind my back to make me jump out of my skin.

“You,” I said through my gritted teeth, jabbing him in the chest with my index finger, “You bloody idiot!”

His eyes widened momentarily before peals of laughter escaped his lips, obviously laughing at my not so wise choice of words that I’d just used to voice out my anger towards him.

Ignoring the sound of his laughter, I kneeled down and picked up the first thing that mattered to me: my phone. Which now had a cracked screen all thanks to Jackass.

“What the fresh fuck were you thinking?” I hissed, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath as I tried to calm myself down, but it didn’t work.

“I-‘

I opened my eyes, shaking my head at Harry who had his mouth opened as he had already prepared an excuse to be given to me. But I wasn’t going to hear any of them; they would only rile me up as if I wasn’t already. “Don’t answer that, you weren’t thinking obviously!”

For a few seconds, he had the nerve to look offended, lower lip jutting out into a pout, eyes drooping a little as he looked at me. However, soon enough his face morphed into the one I hated the most, the one where his shit-eating grin was on full display. “’twas funny, Tenley.”

I gave him the bird to which of course only increased the intensity of his grin if it was possible. “S’not funny!”

“It is,” he countered, laughing immediately as if he was trying to contradict my words.

“Sod off,” I grumbled as I sighed internally when my eyes landed on my mobile phone in hand. Anger returning in full force once I realised that this was all Jackass’ fault, I turned to face him, giving him such hate daggers with my eyes. “Look at this!” I cried, showing the screen of my mobile to him. “This is your doing!”

Harry’s eyebrows knitted together in a little frown as he examined the screen.

I let out a heavy sigh, threading my fingers through my hair, wondering how on earth was I supposed to find extra money to fix the screen. I could ask my parents for it, of course, but I didn’t think my mum would appreciate me calling in just to ask for some money. She would undoubtedly give the money, but not before nattering about how careless I was when it came to my stuff as if I wasn’t aware of that already. And that was the part I dreaded the most.

“Well, I-“

“Honestly, Harry, just go fuck yourself,” I told him, slamming the door in front of his face before he could get any word out of his mouth and locking it so he wouldn’t be able to get inside without my permission. Luckily for me, Louis wouldn’t be home for at least another two hours, which meant that I would be free of Harry for as long as he wasn’t around.  

Come to think of it, Louis hadn’t been around much for the past few days especially since after the call he had in the kitchen. I hadn’t gotten around to asking him about it yet and whenever I did get the chance to do so, the topic completely slipped out of my mind. Besides, I didn’t think it was important; it could very well be his parents.

My head balanced on the arm of the couch, I reached for the remote control and just as I was about to turn on the telly to watch some random cooking shows, the sound of a sharp knock at the door startled me. Initially, I thought it was just Harry disturbing me for not letting him in. But even when five minutes had passed and the person was still knocking, I knew it wasn’t him. Harry had never waited longer than two minutes before he returned to his flat and came back thirty minutes later.  

Brows furrowing into a frown, I made my way to the front door and unlocked it, swinging it open to reveal whoever it was that had just interrupted my time with myself. And as soon as I saw who it was, I wished I hadn’t opened it.

Standing in front of me in a pair of black leggings and mustard yellow cardigan that she wore over her white tank top was a blonde head girl named Beth Griffin or better known as Louis’ ex girlfriend.  

Despite how good I usually was at masking my surprise, a tiny gasp somehow managed to slip out of my mouth, for I had never anticipated this moment. Not once had I imagined seeing Beth standing outside the flat that she used to share with Louis while I stood by the door.

The first thing her blue eyes did was scan my outfit which was the same outfit I’d worn to class earlier – a pair of dark blue jeans along with my favourite grey jumper that I’d gotten for half of its price last year – and the next thing they did was shoot daggers at my face. If I weren’t Tenley, I would’ve cowered in the corner and trembled, but I was so I wasn’t entirely affected by the look she was giving me.

When she opened her mouth to speak, her voice was spitting with hatred, which didn’t surprise me at all. “So it’s true then.”

Scratching the back of my neck, I tilted my head, my brows pulled into a frown. Instinctively, I crossed my arms in front of my chest, feeling myself turning defensive. “True what?”

Beth rolled her eyes. “That he’s found a replacement-“

“What?” I shrieked, immediately shaking my head even though the idea of Louis and I were currently dating sounded rather delightful in my head. “No, he’s.. I’m not a replacement or a rebound or whatever, I’m just a friend.” I spluttered in one breath, watching as her eyes gradually softened as she studied my face.

“Just a friend?” She quirked a disbelieving eyebrow at me.

Regardless how much I hated the fact that she sounded relieved when I told her that, I nodded my head, confirming her second assumption, “Yeah, just a friend.”

“Can I, uh, come in?” Beth then asked, playing with the ends of her hair as she asked me that question. It was the nervousness in her voice that prompted me to open the door wider and let her come inside. “Thanks,” she muttered to which I simply replied with a small smile and a shrug.

Beth went straight to the living room, leaving me alone by the front door, flabbergasted by what I’d just done. I couldn’t believe that I’d just let the one person that used to stand between Louis and I in. Shiloh would’ve been proud of me if she were around to see this.

When I got to the lounge, Beth’s eyes wandered around the space as if she wanted to see if things had changed around here. It had. A week ago I’d asked Louis to move the shelf to the corner of the room so there could be more space and no one would bump into it each time they tried to get to the bathroom. And three days ago I went to buy a new carpet that was now on the previously empty floor, beneath the coffee table, making the living room look homier.

I watched as her eyes moved from one couch to the other and for all I knew, she was probably counting the pillows, making sure that at least something in the lounge hadn’t changed.

Finally, when she seemed the least bit satisfied, she took a seat on the edge of the couch I was sitting on earlier, eyes darting to me who was still standing behind the couch. “The place looks cleaner.”

That’s because I cleaned it everyday, I wanted to say. But instead I nodded my head and took a seat on the other couch. “Does Louis know you’re coming over?”

She instantly shook her head, panic crossing her face, “No, God, no.”

Against my better judgment, I leaned forward and asked, “Why?”

She appeared to be taken aback by my inquisitive question, her brows shooting up to her hairline and her eyes bulging slightly. It didn’t take her longer than five seconds, however, before she cleared her throat and looked away, fingers picking at the seams of her cardigan. “Has he said anything about me?” She asked, “To you or to anyone?”

As far as I was concerned not once had Beth’s name came up in our conversation since I moved in here. Well maybe it did once or twice but Louis would always brush it off or change the topic quickly. It was like the one name that we’d agreed not to mention in this flat. Therefore, I shook my head.

“Oh,” she breathed, nodding her head a couple of times and biting her lower lip as if she was arranging her next words in her head. “I don’t know how to say this but, uh, I need you to move out of this flat.”

This time, I didn’t bother to hide my surprise. Surely I had just heard her wrong. I almost laughed at the absurdness of her request. It amazed me how she thought she had the right to ask me – even though politely – to move out of this flat when I had grown fond of the place. And it wasn’t just because of Louis.

Kinking an eyebrow, I licked my lips before I opened them to speak. “I’m sorry, but what?”

“I-I can’t live with the fact that he’s living with another girl!” She blurted out, her hands were wild as they waved around, gesturing at the living room that undoubtedly looked better since she left. “Not when the girl is you.”

“Excuse me?”

Rolling her eyes, she pushed her hair away from her shoulder while she kept her eyes fixed on my face, lips pulling down at its corners. “You don’t think I’m blind, do you, Tenley?” So she did know my name; it appeared as if she didn’t know me when I opened the door five minutes ago, but apparently she did. “I’ve seen the way you look at him. Your eyes bloody sparkle when he talks to you.”

It stunned me that she had noticed that tiny detail because I hardly saw her glancing my way whenever she’s with Louis; her eyes were always fixed on no one but him. Which of course made me want to vomit each time I saw them together, gazing into each other’s eyes 24/7 like they were trying to rub their love in everyone’s faces.

“You fancy him.”

Her words echoed round the lounge as silence fell upon us – the kind of silence that spoke volume. And in that moment, all of the words that I had sitting on my tongue, ready to be voiced out earlier vanished, swallowed along with the gasp that was threatening to escape my lips. Although I knew that whatever I said next wouldn’t be enough to convince her, that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to at least try.  

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I shook my head, shrugging when she gave me a pointed look.

Beth let out a scoff and laughed despite herself. “Aw, pulling the play dumb card, huh?”

The second those words left her lips, the urge to march towards the couch she was sitting on and strangle her was so strong to the point that I almost found it difficult to resist it. Nevertheless, I opted to remain seated on the chair, gritting my teeth and clenching my fists. I had always known that there must be at least one reason why I didn’t like her – apart from the fact that she was dating the guy I was madly in love with, obviously – and now I’d figured it out.

When I didn’t say anything else, Beth took it upon herself to continue though I would very much prefer if she kept her mouth shut. She stood up from the couch and made her way towards me, placing a hand on my forearm. With her head tilted, her lips were pulled into an apologetic yet menacing smile. “We both know you’re not his type, sweetheart.”

And that was all it took for me to stand up from the couch, her hand falling back to her side. “Thank you for that reminder,” I said through my gritted teeth as my eyes darted from Beth’s face to the front door, a voiceless demand for her to leave this place right this instant. Fortunately, she understood it, nodding her head curtly and shooting me another smile before she eventually dragged her feet to the front door where she stopped and gave me another glance through her shoulder, waving her hand at me as if she hadn’t said anything offensive at all.

Instead of waving back, I simply grabbed the remote control and turned on the telly, welcoming any sorts of distraction right now.  

“Oh hi, Haz.” I whipped my head to the source of her voice, my eyes bulging from my head when they met Harry’s equally confused ones.

“Erm, hi Beth,” Harry replied, brows furrowing as his eyes darted from me to the girl standing in front of me. This was probably the first time I saw him acting awkward around a girl. I was so used to seeing him displaying the cocky and confident side of himself – the only side I was positive he had – at The Cup.

“You look great,” she mentioned, squeezing his forearm that almost made him jump away from her, most probably because he hadn’t expected her to touch him.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

“I’d love to chat but I’ve got to run,” Beth said as she stood on her tiptoes and gave Harry a peck on the cheek before she finally left my flat. I could only wish that she would leave my life too but that sounded far too good for it to actually happen.

Only when I heard the door being slammed did I notice that Harry had gotten himself inside, much to my dismay, eyes scrutinising my face with caution as if he feared that I would explode; I would have if he were Shiloh. When I didn’t open my mouth to curse at him or kick him out, he took that as a sign for him to sit next to me, lips opening and closing like he was trying to figure out what to say.

“Judging by your face right now, I suppose you two aren’t mates?”

“Not exactly,” I muttered, leaning my back against the couch and letting out a very loud, necessary sigh.

Harry moved around on the couch until he was facing me, his eyes never leaving the side of my face, making me feel as if he was trying to read me, trying to get through my skull and see what I was thinking about.

To say that my mind wasn’t a mess right now would be a blatant lie. The second I saw Beth standing outside the flat, my mind jumbled up instantly at the sight of her and when she admitted that she couldn’t accept the fact that I was living with her ex boyfriend, it only made things worse. It also didn’t help that Louis hardly talked about Beth, for he chose to leave me in the dark with what happened between them. Although I couldn’t argue as I didn’t have the right to know about it before, now I did have the right. Especially when his ex girlfriend had just came over to personally kick me out without his consent.

“Tell me what’s going on in your head,” Harry’s voice snapped me out of my trance, prompting me to look at him who was pinching his bottom lip between his fore finger and thumb. What he was doing made his lip turn into a dark shade of pink and immediately I pushed that very thought to the back of my mind.

Clearing my throat, I diverted my focus to his eyes instead, but it wasn’t any better; they were staring intently at me, making me feel as though he could see right through me whether I wanted him to or not. And for a split second, I wondered how it felt like to get lost in those green eyes of his. Granted that, as quickly as that intruded my mind, I disregarded it.

“Do you know why Louis and Beth broke up?” I asked, silently pleading that he knew the answer.

“Is that why you haven’t kicked me out yet, bunny?” He questioned, ridding the concerned look off his face and smearing a smirk on it instead. Which of course led to me scoffing and rolling my eyes at the use of the nickname he’d given to me. “Unfortunately, no I don’t. He doesn’t like talking about it.”

So, he hadn’t talked to anyone about it, which only made me wonder why he refused to give anyone an insight into the breakup. Although I understood why he was keeping it a secret, a little insight wouldn’t hurt. He could very well tell me a classic reason ‘it wasn’t her, it was me’ and I would have been happy with that piece of information. At least I knew a bit about it instead of being kept in the dark and having to pretend as if I wasn’t burning with curiosity.

“In fact, he barely talked to anyone after the breakup,” Harry added, “I think it was a rough one.”

There was an abundance of questions swimming around in my head and just when I was about to articulate one of them, the front door swung open, followed by Louis’ voice asking if I were home. Seconds after I told him where I was, he appeared in the living room, his eyes darting from Harry to me as he paced in the living room, one hand on his waist while the one in his hair, tugging lightly from the roots.

“Hey, mate. Everything alright?” For the first time in history, Harry and I shared the same expression, both of us fashioning a concerned look as our eyes followed Louis who hadn’t stopped going back and forth in front of us.

“Beth was here,” he muttered under his breath but seeing that it was quiet and none of us was speaking, we heard his words clearly. Then, after a few seconds, he stopped and turned to face me. “Why’d you let her in?”

“I-She asked if she could come in..” I trailed off, shrugging when he shook his head at me. How he came to know about this, I hadn’t a clue, but even if he didn’t, I would’ve told him. I hadn’t expected this reaction, though, hadn’t expected him to look so distraught over the fact that his ex girlfriend was just here not less than five minutes ago. “I’m sorry.”

Upon hearing my apology, his face softened and he let out a sigh, rubbing his temple with two fingers. “No, I’m sorry. I just, I didn’t think she’d come over,” he paused before his eyes darted to Harry who was sitting next to me. None of them said anything to each other, but with a nod of his head, Harry heaved himself off the couch and went back to his flat.

Once Harry was completely out of our sights, Louis occupied the spot next to me and ran his hand down his face. “She’s been calling me for the past few days.” That explained the weird phone calls he’d been receiving and the hushed tone he’d been using whenever he talked on the mobile. “Said she wanted to see me or summat, but I’d never agreed.”

“Why?”

“Let’s just say that things didn’t end well between us,” Louis deduced to a tee, shrugging when I shot him a questioning look. Although I wished he would’ve talked more about it, I was just glad that he decided to finally shed some lights on the topic of him and Beth. “I’m so sorry that she came over unexpectedly.”

“Hey,” I nudged him with my elbow, coaxing him to look me in the eyes, “Like you said, t’was unexpected so s’fine.”

“I know,” he nodded, “But I should’ve seen it coming.”  

“Quit blaming yourself,” I nudged him once more. I’d always hated seeing the frown on his face and after the long day I had, the only thing I could rely on that could put a smile on my face was his smile.

“Okay,” he finally relented with a hint of a smile. “Do you fancy a dinner with me then?”

“Tonight?”

He nodded.

The word ‘yes’ nearly escaped my lips, but I managed to swallow it as I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth before asking him a rather important question. “Will Harry join us?”

“Up to you,” he shrugged as he stood up from the couch, extending a hand at me to help me stand up.

“Then, no. Absolutely not,” I answered with a firm shake of my head.

Chuckles escaping his lips, Louis made a move to tuck a strand of hair that had fallen in front of my face behind my ear. His action took me off guard, which explained why I suddenly became immobile. My chest felt really tight and I had to remind myself to breathe as he looked into my eyes. “He’s not that bad, Tee.”

And just like that, the overwhelming fluttering I felt in my stomach five seconds prior disappeared. “So I’ve heard.”

“He’s probably mean to you cos he likes you.”

“Riiight.” I rolled my eyes as I began to make my way to my room.

Louis stopped me in my tracks by wrapping a hand around my arm, “Trust me, I know Harry.”

“And I don’t believe you.”

[hejin57-blog]

MUSIC MASTERS: CD ONE

Might want to rewind a bit...

-----

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WHITE KNUCKLE RIDE: PART FIVE

-----

High school was so inconsequential now.

In fact, it was so meaningless that even listening to Mr. Remora discuss the history of African-American music throughout the 70's couldn't keep Michael Kay's attention.

Since he was a kid, Michael had always fidgeted constantly. Lately though, this habit had become much worse.

The afro-headed teen could barely contain his foot tapping and desk shuffling all the way through eighth period. He'd been anxious all week; after all, it was just this past Friday that they had begun their Music Master training regime.

And it was a veritable miracle that Kim hadn't decided to just drop him like a hat. All of it just made Michael Kay hungrier for more.

His mind darted from thought to thought, and though Mr. Remora continued to drone on like an aardvark with a sinus infection, Michael was too busy thinking about Canned Heat again.

Canned Heat and YMCA, he mentally recounted, unaware of the few students around him now thoroughly annoyed at his fidgeting.

These were the only two songs Michael had tried so far, out of all the hundreds stored in his five- year old music player. Part of him was afraid to try any others for fear of musical suicide, while the other part was beyond eager to do so.

Michael began to go down his mental list of songs to try, when his gaze shifted in class, and he suddenly noticed someone a few desks ahead to the far right.

She was looking out the window, dressed in a white t-shirt, a loose blue checkered blazer and ripped jeans.

This girl seemed to be pondering intently, but what caught Michael's attention the most was one of her silver lighting bolt-shaped earrings, which he could just spot out of the locks of her long blonde hair.

There was something super familiar about that earring and about her, but between all of the craziness that had happened to him recently, he couldn't put his finger on exactly where he recognized her from.

Michael almost debated opening his mouth and asking her, but even he wasn't so oblivious to forget he was in the middle of class.

He stared at the clock instead. Time was clearly crawling along like a Bob Dylan song, to his displeasure.

Michael Kay just buried his head in his arms, praying for this terribly long day to end.

Then just a moment later, as if the angels themselves were answering his prayers, Michael felt a hard buzzing in his left pocket.

Michael glanced up quick. Mr. Remora had turned around, too busy jotting down a chart of famous musicians. With a quick motion, he checked his phone.

It was a text from Kim. She had specifically asked for Michael's number in the event he ever flaked on her. It was quite a surprise to think she would actually reach out to him like this though.

All the message said said was the following:

Audio Empire 

4 PM 

don't be late

Mr. Remora turned back around, wiping a slime trail from his nose without even the slightest tact. By this time though, Michael had already hidden his phone away.

His huge grin, however, was anything but hidden.

Maybe he could make it through history class after all.

-----

For as long as Michael Kay could remember, Audio Empire had been the place for music in his Washington Heights neighborhood.

In all honesty, it was probably the place for music in the entire Tri-State area. At least, that's how Michael felt.

No one could resist their selection, not even Kim Ramone. For once, Michael was silent next to her, one orange headphone in his right ear playing his usual music. He watched as she flipped through various vinyls in the old school punk rock section, going with precise speed through the Dead Kennedys and The Clash alike.

"So even you have to be wondering by now why we're meeting here." she began, not turning away from her album search for even a second.

"Uh..." Michael replied, though a bit unsure. "...did I mess something up?"

Kim smiled to herself, but she still didn't turn to face him. "No, you're fine, actually. This is pretty serious though. I was thinking about those Zero Beat flunkies that came for me in the Dust Bowl.  There's going to be consequences for what happened that night."

Michael scratched the back of his head in confusion. They were in the farthest corner in the basement of the store. It was relatively empty on a Thursday night, and strangely they had no music playing in the speakers overhead.

"You're worried about them? We owned them. They wouldn't think twice about coming back for you after that beatdown!" Michael exclaimed, his tone now excitable.

This time Kim spun around, mostly in response to just how loud Michael had become.

"Lower your voice! You already forget what I said about having a big mouth?!?"

Michael shrugged as he looked around. The basement of Audio Empire was just as empty as when they had arrived.

"What? It's just us and records down here. You worry way too much, Kim."

Kim's patience was clearly lost at this point. She put an accusing finger on Michael's chest as she addressed him.

"And you don't worry enough. They might be a joke, but Zero Beat isn't."

Michael's eyebrows raised. He had heard the name before, but had never thought to ask about it.

"Oh yeah. Zero Beat. What is that anyway?" he asked quite nonchalantly.

Kim stared straight at him, now unaware herself just how loud she was getting.

"They're people that Music Masters don't mess with. Especially Music Masters who didn't even have the slightest idea of what they're doing. And what you don't realize is that by doing what you did in the Dust Bowl, they're going to remember you. And they're not going to stop coming after me and you until they get payback."

Michael expression dropped at the sound of her words. He gulped audibly, the carefree feeling in his stomach was whisked away in but a moment.

"...Payback?"

Kim narrowed her eyes, not mincing a word.

"Yes, payback. And that's why we're going to keep meeting on Fridays. That's why I need you to be at the top of your game, so that you can have my back when they decide to show their faces again."

The reality of the situation was dawning on Michael quickly, and he tried his best to distract himself with the music still playing in one ear. In his nervousness, he picked up a stray vinyl from the rack, twirling it between his fingers in an attempt to relax.

"So this is what I get for helping you, huh?" Michael remarked, the hopeless in his voice now very obvious. "Man, What did I do to deserve this?"

"Hey!" Kim shot back, tired of Michael's whining. "I didn't ask for your help. Don't blame me because you decided to play the hero. And let's not forget that I could have just left you in the dust awhile ago."

Michael held the album in front of him, taken a little aback as Kim's voice got louder still.

"But did I do that, Afroboy? Did I royally screw you over?"

Michael's voice was low, but audible enough. "No."

"That's what I thought. So don't give me lip. We do things my way, or we don't do them at all. Am I crystal clear?"

Michael didn't even answer. He had turned away, looking down at his music player as he allowed his mind to wander.

Kim's voice was becoming less and less audible with each passing second. Soon enough, Michael just found himself spacing out as Kim berated him.

Perhaps it was a defense mechanism carried on from his younger years of dealing with Colleen, but Michael Kay focused on the only other thing audible besides Kim; his music.

And coincidentally, that music just happened to be Canned Heat.

Everything fell into place so quickly, though not in the way Michael would have wanted.

"Uh, everything alright down here?"

Both Michael and Kim turned at the same time. Kim's mouth was still agape from all her shouting, but Michael had allowed his subconscious to take hold. In his right hand, he still held up the same record he was twirling before.

Unfortunately, it was now very much burning to a crisp, as the red-orange aura flared brightly over his right hand and Canned Heat played freely in the air.

Standing in front of the two Music Masters was none other than the same girl from Michael's history class. Only this time, she was wearing a winter jacket with keys jingling in her hand. Her name tag read "Aeris."

It was at this time that Michael Kay finally remembered her as the same cashier who rung him up that fateful day when he first emerged as a Music Master.

In a panic, Michael spoke quickly, much to Kim's chagrin.

"Uh yeah! No problem here! We were just practicing our bit for the school talent show."

Michael couldn't be any less convincing with his words. Aeris just ignored him though, her gaze now focused on the burning record in his hand.

Kim closed her fists, hot anger quickly boiling inside her. She couldn't believe Michael was this stupid.

Noticing the silence, Michael's gaze followed Aeris. His eyes widened at the sight of the now smoldering vinyl.

"Oh shit." he said quite loudly, before dropping the record and stomping on it with reckless abandon in an attempt to put out the sudden fire.

Both Kim and Aeris just stood by in relative disbelief. When Michael was finally done, he was breathing heavily, changing his tone in his best attempt to diffuse the situation.

"Wow, talk about spontaneous combustion. What are the odds?" he joked, his grin wide but doing little to hide his nerves.

Aeris finally reacted, looking down at the damage and speaking just as politely as Michael remembered.

"It's alright. Most of the records down here ain't worth much in change anyway. No harm done." she assured, turning around to head to the nearby closet to grab a broom and dustpan.

"An' I guess I left the music on down here. It's been a long day."

Kim's expression instantly changed at the sound of her words. Michael looked overhead, remembering that the music speakers had been off in the basement since they'd got here.

Kim didn't try to hide the suspicion in her voice in the slightest.

"Music?  What music? I don't hear anything."

Aeris stopped in her tracks, frozen with fright once she realized the mistake she had made. It had been bad enough that she'd been working two hours before her shift to cover for her lazy coworkers, but even still she was always good with managing her exhaustion.

Not knowing what else to say, Aeris just continued her cleaning as if nothing happened.

By now, Michael removed his earbud, and his hand had gone cold as Canned Heat no longer played in the air.

Aeris's continued silence spoke volumes for Kim. She stood over her, arms crossed and her shadow oppressive, but the blond seemed unaffected.

"So what? Now all of a sudden you got nothing to say?"

It took close to a thousand years, but Michael's eyes widened once he finally clued in to the situation.

"Wait a second. She heard my music? But that means...it means she's a Music Master too!"

Now the jig was clearly up. Not much of a surprise to Aeris though. This afro-headed guy had forgotten more than once what he was buying from her experience.

Just about finished, she swept the rest of the burnt record into the dustpan. When she stood up to face Kim, her expression was anything but scared.

"That's my business, not yours. I don't remember having to tell you my life story, thank you very much." she shot back, clearly done with being interrogated.

Kim just narrowed her eyes and held her ground. "Just stay out of our way. And forget what you saw if you know what's good for you."

Harsh lightning seemed to spark between Kim and Aeris's eyes, and it was at about this time that Michael finally had the courage to intervene. He quickly got between them, putting a hand on each of their shoulders and throwing on a grin to offset the tension.

"Okay, relax everybody. Nobody is getting in anyone's way. I mean, it's not her fault she saw me. It's my fault for being careless."

"Save the maturity act, Michael." Kim commented, clearly unconvinced.

"Don't mind her." Michael said, now addressing Aeris. "I don't know about you, but I'm super new at this Music Master stuff. Kim's been training me since last week though, so I'm starting to figure it all out."

"Just tell her everything while you're at it."

The venom in Kim's voice was obvious now, but Michael was anything if not relentless.

"Hey! You should totally join us for training tomorrow night! I mean, the more the merrier, right?"

He looked back at Kim, but she just turned away, clearly aggravated at the whole turn of events.

Aeris, on the other hand, seemed somewhat receptive. Whoever this afro-headed guy was, he didn't seem even an iota as volatile as his friend. And if she was ousted already like this, than maybe it was such a bad idea to at least try to keep it somewhat under wraps.

Aeris pondered the thought for a moment. Unfortunately, she quickly remembered the old sensation of pain in her palms. The idea of using her song effects again was not a joyous thought in the slightest.

Michael noticed the black fingerless gloves over her hands, and she rubbed her palms together with uncertainty. Despite her doubts though, this was for the best considering the situation. At least, for the time being.

"I'll come watch. But only if you promise to keep this on the down low. My brothers got enough to worry about as it is." Aeris told Michael in her most serious tone of voice.

"Hey, I'm the king of down low. You can count on me for sure." he beamed in response.

"Really? Could have fooled me." Kim grumbled under her breath.

"My name's Aeris. Nice to meet you. Well, officially at least. You're here like every month." she remarked with a laugh, the effect of Michael's smile finally eliminating the tension of the whole situation.

"Yeah, I guess I usually am. I'm Michael. We're in history together."

At this point, Kim was finished with formalities. She pushed past Michael with a grunt, turning on some music in an attempt to distract her from his boundless stupidity.

He just shrugged in response. "Oh, and that's Kim. She's a bit complicated."

Michael wasn't going to let her suddenly foul mood kill this chance though. He walked with Aeris out as she finished closing up Audio Empire. Unlike Kim, she didn't seem to mind him talking her ear off.

It took Aeris a few more minutes to lock up, but that was more than enough time for him to talk about himself, his time with Kim, his uncle Rob, and his top ten favorite disco songs. He neglected to mention their first encounter with Zero Beat however. Even he wasn't that stupid to scare her off this early.

Michael waited by the front door as she closed the register. He was practically ready to jump out of his skin from all the excitement. Now where there was but one fellow Music Master, there were two. And unlike Kim Ramone, Aeris seemed like she might not just berate him all the time for opening his mouth.

Outside, Kim waited silently as her music blared loudly in her ears. She gave Michael a particularly fierce look of death as he came out with Aeris in tow.

Kim would come around, he thought to himself.

She couldn't be angry forever after all.

-----

Outside, looking as innocuous as a passerby, a familiar shaggy-haired blond teen watched as Michael, Kim, and Aeris parted ways in front of Audio Empire.

He could only theorize what they were doing together. He knew Michael and Kim were Music Masters for sure now.

As for the cute blond cashier that he'd seen time and time again, to see her in their company that was certainly a surprise.

Aeris was her name, if he remembered right.

He'd have to remember that tomorrow night, at Kim's usual meet up time in Central Park.

Calvin did want to make a good first impression, after all.

Fast forward to the next track...