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realityescapee01 · 1 year

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Not the Usual

@steodiscord prompt: royalty

Stiles isn't your usual alpha. He's always been different. He doesn't always believe in tradition And doesn't always fit in traditionally in the werewolf society. But he loves his dad so much that he begrudgingly abide by the rules. Like right now, he was being presented some omegas to choose from. Which Stiles hates. People are not objects to choose or buy as you like. He firmly believes.

Until he saw Theo Raeken.

His dad, chuckling beside him. "Saw someone of interest, son?"

"Dad, you know I hate these things. This practice is so... people should have free will. Omegas too."

"But?" -he knows his son well.

"But... who is that? Second from the right?"

Noah looked at the omega his son pointed at. He nodded and agreed on his son's taste. The omega looks good. Very handsome. Well-groomed. Nice body too. But he isn't 100% on board with it. That one is Theo Raeken. He has quite the reputation. And Noah just doesn't see his son handling Theo well.

Theo Raeken is an infamous omega around their town. Not just because of his looks, but that he is a hard to get omega, for real. A pain in the ass. Fighting off alphas or making them fight each other. One way or another, he escapes them.

And Stiles is not the usual alpha. He isn't rough, ragged and physical like the other alphas. He doesn't do sports well. He has different hobbies and interests, definitely something Noah can't see as someone that could handle someone like Theo.

Noah wanna try to talk him out of it but Stiles doesn't want a lot of things. Doesn't ask for a lot of things. Just this once. So Noah went to get Theo.

The moment Theo saw Noah Stilinski, he knew instantly which alpha he got. Which alpha got him for the next full moon.

Theo scoffed. "Of all the alphas, huh?"

"I'd let that one slide. Get over here."

Noah led Theo to where Stiles is waiting.

Theo walked in and immediately, Stiles felt Theo's presence.

'Wait, is he really omega? He's too... confident. Intense. Kinda like a beta. Or an alpha.' -Stiles thought.

"Stiles." -Theo acknowledged him.

"Y-You know me?"

"Everybody knows the soft alpha prince."

Prince, yeah. Stiles belonged to a certain alpha class, treated as royalties. And Stiles is known to be a nerd, a geek.

But Stiles doesn't care about that. He is sure of himself, he doesn't wanna be like others. He doesn't even wanna be alpha or a royal one at that too. He wants that abolish. All that shit. Respect and privilege depends on your status. Alphas are treated differently, more so the "royal" ones.

Their whole pack system is:

There are omegas, betas and alphas. Then alphas above those alphas. Kinda like generals and then kings. Stiles' dad is one of the kings and Scott's dad too. There are always two kings. To make sure one checks the other, to not have only one head to think and make decisions. These king positions always go to the alphas. Whether they are capable or not.

And Theo hated it.

He hated the dynamic. He was born omega but he sure as hell is as capable as an alpha. He is smart, cunning and strong. He has great presence, great battle skills, strategies and planning skills, but he can't get any position because he is just an omega. Even at school sports. He is better than Jackson but he can't even get into the team. Because he's an omega.

That's why he stands infront Stiles, angry. Angry at this doe eyed guy, lanky and doesn't have that much of a presence. Theo couldn't believe why a guy like Stiles is alpha and not him.

"Nice to meet you, Theo." -Stiles was flustered.

"Let's get it over with." -Theo headed out of there.

Stiles followed. Outside, there's a very expensive limo waiting.

"Whew. To be royalty, huh?" -Stiles opened the door for Theo, who got in and instructed the driver to head to the house.

They headed upstairs. "So, how do you want me?" -Theo was looking around, for possible weapons and escape routes. For when Stiles try to force himself onto him.

The reason why Stiles had to choose among omegas a while ago is because he turned 18, and there is the heat moon coming. He needs some 'company' for it.

Stiles said not yet.

"Fine by me... why'd you choose me, anyway? Having your status, you could choose a beta, or an alpha to keep you company. You can do whatever you want and no one will question it."

"You're beautiful, Theo. And you look so confident."

Theo scoffed. "I'm tired, can I sleep now?"

"Me too, let's get to bed."

"You're not gonna try anything, are you?"

"No, I promise."

Theo relaxed because he didn't sense any danger from Stiles anyway.

"Okay. Come over here." -Stiles gestured to him.

Theo's body shivered. Stiles might've not done it on purpose, but it sounded like an order.

And biologically, Theo's body just submits to an alpha's orders. Another one Theo hates about this alpha omega dynamic. Even if he tries hard, if an alpha gave out firm enough order, he couldn't do anything but follow.

He walked right over and did as told. They slept and Stiles kept his promise, he didn't touch Theo that night.

They went to school, as usual but Stiles let Theo be free. The heat moon isn't until 2 months from now. The important thing is, he had chosen Theo, and Theo is his until that time passed. He just asked one condition, Theo is as free as he wants to be, but he has to sleep with Stiles at night starting now.

Sleep, as in, just literally sleep. Not doing anything sexual. Just sleep. Theo agreed, because he wouldn't worry at night anymore if he is in bed with an alpha. No one would dare come to the Stilinski residence, one of the kings. No one would dare to anger Noah Stilinski.

"Theo, I heard you were chosen." -Corey ran up to Theo.

"Yeah."

"So, who is it?"

"Stiles."

"How is he? Is he kind?"

"He is. Too kind for an alpha."

"That's good... Theo, I want to play."

They went to the back of the school, almost to the woods. Corey wanted to be in the lacrosse team but being an omega, he couldn't.

First class bell rang. They headed back.

"Wow. You're both good." -Stiles was watching them. "You should try out for the team."

"Do you think we didn't?!?" Theo was irritated.

"S-Sorry... I swear, one day, every one will have a fair shot on everything."

"... We have classes." -Theo is having a hard time trusting Stiles.

They all walked back into the building to go on with their student lives.

Lunch time came and Stiles saw how other alphas and some betas try to hit on Theo. And Theo rolls his eyes and then bares his fangs to them. Snarling them off. Stiles gulped. Is he really omega? There is no way he could've gotten Theo if not for his "royal" privilege to choose.

Before him choosing Theo back then, he isn't really interested in dating or love. He is only ever interested in his games and movies. But when he reached the age of 18, he had changed. He saw Theo once, and he was smitten. But given his set of friends, Scott, being kind of a geek and nerd too, but cooler, Stiles didn't have the chance to pursue or even talk about his crush on Theo. Scott was all about lacrosse and the games that come.

And then he saw Theo again in that choosing room.

"Stiles!" -Scott took him into a headlock. "You got Theo? Raeken?"

"Yup." -Stiles patted Scott's arm off.

"Damn! So, how was it?" -Scott has this naughty look to him.

"N-No! Nothing yet."

"Why?!? How can you not? He is hot."

"He's kinda... scary."

"Stiles! You're the alpha!"

Scott and Stiles watched as Theo walk out with the other omegas. The reason why Stiles only saw him once before is because Theo goes to unpopulated areas of the school, away from the alphas and the betas.

As the school ended, Theo meets Stiles at the parking lot, to go home with him.

They ate dinner in their big dining hall. Being waited on and served by maids and the chef. Stiles tried making small talks but he stutters and he isn't really good at those. Stiles called the maid and asked for a soup. He asked Theo if he wants one too, to which Theo said yes.

"Good. 2 of those then."

When the soup arrived, Stiles started talking about it. "This recipe is from my mom. I can't live without eating it even once a week."

"Where is your mom?" -Theo was curious.

"She died a few years back. Illness." -Stiles' voice sounded of sadness and yearning. He misses his mom.

"Oh..."

"How about you?"

"Both my parents are dead."

"Oh, sorry."

"Car accident when I was 9."

"Who took you in then?"

"No one."

"W-What do you mean?"

"No one wanted me. Being stubborn or some shit like that. I was moved into a shelter. Until now."

"But... where will you go when you turn 18?"

"I don't really have a place. And that's next week."

"It's your birthday next week? What day exactly?"

"... Sunday."

"I'll remember that." -Stiles smiled at him.

Theo and Stiles spent the night talking. Theo was more receptive than before. Having been around Stiles a while, he got used to it. And the fact that Stiles doesn't pose any threat to him. Then night time came. They climbed onto bed.

"Uhm, Theo. Can I hug you?"

"... Okay."

Stiles was shaking a little bit. He inched closer to Theo and wrapped his arms around the omega. He smiled to himself, he was laughing a bit at himself actually. He's the alpha here, but he's the one asking permissions to do things. But he doesn't really mind. This is Theo.

Stiles is taller than Theo a little bit, so Theo felt a little small when Stiles hugged him from behind. It felt... okay. Warm. And werewolves like warm.

Theo was woken by a knocking from the window. He felt Stiles stir and walk to it. He pretended to be asleep. It was Scott at the window. Stiles let him in. Theo felt a little nervous but controlled it as to not give away that he is awake. A skill he learned and developed when he was growing up in the shelter.

Theo was thinking if Stiles called Scott over to share him with Scott. He did overhear the two during lunch. Scott was asking if Stiles had fucked him yet.

Scott inhales. "Your room smells good, Stiles."

"Pshh! I know what you mean. Most likely, that's Theo. Why are you here, anyway?"

"Just a warning. Jackson. He was pissed when he heard you took Theo for yourself."

"Oh, thanks for the warning."

"Yeah... mind if I stay a bit? Dad has someone over, you know."

"Okay, feel free around my room. But I am sleeping."

Scott nodded and watched Stiles go back to sleep with Theo on the bed. Theo did not sleep until Scott left. He just couldn't let his guard down around alphas, given his past experience.

The next day, Theo had a free hour because the teacher was out and there was no replacement. He sat outside one classroom. The tactics class.

Basically, a class for discussing battle and negotiation strategies. He wanted to get that class but only alphas are allowed to.

The teacher narrated a situation. And then the problem. Then he asked what would be the best course of action to take.

A few alphas were called. Theo listened to all their answers. Most are okay, but most didn't consider the pros and the cons of that course of action.

Then he heard Stiles answer. It was different from the others who are manpower-centric. Stiles' answer was more on playing the psychological aspect of the situation. Using less manpower but having the least casualties as well, should the plan go sideways, and he had a contingency plan too.

The teacher was impressed. And so was Theo. And from then, he knew Stiles is not the brawn and muscle type of alpha. He is the brains type. And Theo loves that. He doesn't want an empty-headed alpha as mate. One day, whether he likes it or not, he had to be mated.

On their way home, Theo asked Stiles a favor. To discuss whatever was talked about in the tactics class. Stiles agreed.

Theo began appreciationg Stiles more. He hangs out with him more often, much to Stiles' delight. And anger of another alpha: Jackson.

Jackson cornered Stiles in the lacrosse lockers.

"I heard you got Theo. How was it? Care to share?"

"Ohmygod, you're disgusting."

Jackson laughed "I'll get my turn, somehow."

"Oh, right. Your turn. Turn left down the hallway."

"What?"

"That's the garbage disposal, feel free to jump in one of the dumpsters."

"Grr! Fuck you!" -Jackson lunged at Stiles, connecting a fist to his cheek.

"Hey!!!" -the coach saw and immediately threw Jackson out. "Are you okay, Stiles?"

"Yeah."

The coach was kind to Stiles, always has been. He doesn't know if genuinely or just because he is Noah Stilinski's son.

If Theo has a hard time trusting alphas, Stiles has a hard time trusting everyone else, because of his status. So Stiles learned to be a good judge of character. To discern real friends from people who just wanna kiss ass -his and his dad; in hopes of getting a favor or something. Be close to higher ups, somehow, enjoy the privileges of being a higher up because of it.

So even if Jackson is an ass and a bully to him, at least he knows he can trusts that. And everything is clear to Stiles. At least Jackson doesn't pretend. Making Stiles wary on whether Jackson is real or fake to him.

-+-+-+-

Stiles walked out of the lockers. He was on his way to the tactics class.

"Hey, I forgot to give this back." -Theo handed him his class notebook. "Take good notes for me, okay?"

But Stiles had an idea. A better idea. "How about you join me in there?"

"No way. There are alphas in there! All of them are!"

"I know, you don't like alphas that much, but I am an alpha. And you like me, I mean, not like like as in intimate, but I'd love if you do like me that way." -Stiles began to ramble on. "Anyways, all I'm saying is, you are smart and your answers are awesome. You should be able to come to a class like this."

"But enrollment is done."

"Just come with me." -and there it was again, an order, though unconsciously said by Stiles or not.

"O-Okay."

Stiles took a deep breath and walked into the classroom, Theo in tow. He talked to the teacher and asked for Theo to be able to attend the class. At first, the teacher was hesitant, but Stiles insisted, with a little status flexing.

Stiles didn't wanna resort to using his alpha status, and son of 'king' Noah status, but for Theo; it's worth it.

The teacher had no choice but to say yes. There are some students who wanted to protest but they didn't say anything. They don't wanna butt heads with royalty.

Theo sat next to Stiles. He listened carefully the whole time. He didn't talk or joined in the conversation. He isn't comfortable yet. Which Stiles called out.

"You should've said something! Your ideas are always unique and effective."

"Not... yet. Maybe next time."

"Is it the amount of alphas in the room? Why don't you like them, me, so much?"

"Don't ask!!!" -Theo left him.

"Hey! Hey, I'm sorry. I was out of line. But if you ever wanna talk about it, I'm here."

"I'm fine! Let's just go home. And don't ask about it again."

"Okay, Theo."

There are a lot of things running on Stiles' mind. He heard horror stories about how alphas treat their omegas. He just wish what he's thinking is wrong.

Theo was staring out the window the whole ride home. Stiles did everything to make Theo not upset anymore but nothing seems to work.

Stiles was walking on eggshells when sleeping time came. He wasn't sure if Theo will allow him a hug. So he just laid there, waiting. Until he fell asleep.

When he woke up, Theo was gone from his bed. He asked the servants where Theo is and they said he went ahead to school.

Stiles didn't eat breakfast. He got readied as fast as he could and headed to school too. The moment he stepped out the limo, Corey marched up to him.

"You're a jerk! Just like the rest of them."

"Whoa! Wait, Corey. What are you talking about?"

"Theo is upset, you tell me what you did!"

"Is there a problem here?" -Scott walked closer to the two.

"No, it's fine, Scott... Look, Corey, I didn't hurt Theo. I just asked him why he doesn't like alphas too much."

"Oh no..."

"Do you know?"

"I don't wanna... I can't say it. Just, please, don't be an ass. Theo's starting to like being around you."

"Oh. Really?"

"Don't tell him I told you that." -Corey then walked out.

Stiles let Theo alone for a while, he didn't wanna anger him any more by hounding him all day. Which proved to be a big mistake.

-+-+-+-

Theo is in the restroom, washing his hands, when he suddenly felt pain. He just got yanked away and into one of the stalls.

"Hmph! Wh-Jackson?"

"Hey, there. I sense some disturbance in the love house." -Jackson noticed how Theo walked in to school alone today. No Stiles.

"I would never want you."

Jackson scoffed. "You will come to me, begging to be fucked and knotted. Soon." Jackson said confidently.

Theo couldn't quite figure out why Jackson was confident.

Until the alpha turned him around to face the toilet. There he saw his suppressant pills, swimming in the water.

"Wha- No! No, no, no!" -Theo was too distracted by his bad mood that he didn't notice Jackson stole them.

Jackson then flushed it. He left Theo in the stall. Omegas have pills that keep their hormones in check. If not, they'd be a horny mess; during heat or if an alpha around them is, or if an alpha wills them to be.

Theo is in his heat days. And he hasn't taken one yet today. "Fuck!!!" He was so emotional that he chased after Jackson wanting to punch him out.

Theo went to Stiles' classroom. He stopped just by the door and whispered.

"Stiles, please step out." -knowing full well Stiles would hear him.

Stiles did, almost instantly. "Theo, hey."

Theo went straight to it, they don't have much time, he told him what happened.

"What the fuck?!? Okay, okay. Wait." -Stiles calls Parrish to get pills for Theo but the heat had come already.

Theo smells even better and looks even more delectable. Stiles could feel it affecting everyone specially the alphas. He could see some adjusting their pants when they walked past them.

Theo was having a hard time walking. His body has gone too hot. Hard and wet. Stiles was having a hard time too, controlling himself. They lock themselves in a room near the gym.

"Fuck this!" -Theo sat at the farthest corner of the room.

Stiles had told Scott about the situation, to help them guard the outside of the room.

"Okay, Theo. The pills are on the way. Damn, you smell so good." -Stiles' eyes flickered red.

"Stiles! I swear-"

"Sorry! Sorry, just... fuck, you really do." -Stiles walked up to Theo and started touching him.

Nuzzling Theo's hair. Theo almost gave in, he leaned in to the nuzzling but was able to take back control and lashed out at Stiles.

"Stay away!!!"

"Sorry." -Stiles immediately stepped away.

Scott walked in with his beta, Liam. Theo became angry.

"What are they doing here?!? You called them?!? Huh?!?"

"Theo, hey, calm down. They're just giving the pills to me, here. Look." -Stiles showing him the pills. "But I need to inject you with this. The center this takes effect faster than the pills. So, just let us, -let me- inject you."

"No! You called them to take turns on me!!!"

"No! Theo, I swear!"

With that statement from Theo, Stiles kinda knew why Theo doesn't like alphas too much. It angered Stiles. And saddened him too. He could only hope whoever did it to Theo got what they deserve.

"Theo, please."

Scott and Liam was moving in to subdue Theo.

"Don't! I got this, Scott. Back down."

Theo was very aloof and is in a fighting position. Stiles walked closer. Theo shouted him off. They could see Theo is in pain. Between fighting and giving in to the hormones. In the presence of 2 alphas and a beta. Theo is hard, very hard and wet for quite a while now. It must hurt a lot.

"Theo, I don't wanna do this but..." -Stiles closed his eyes and when he opened them, it turned into alpha red eyes. "Theo, submit to me." Stiles ordered.

Theo, still tried to fight it, but he soon fell to his hands and knees, with head bowed down to Stiles.

The three was able to breathe and relax now. Liam, Scott's beta, got a bit curious. He is still young and haven't seen an omega in heat. He walked a little closer to Theo. Theo growled and snarled at Liam.

"Whoa!" -Liam stumbled back. "B-But he's in submission."

"Stiles said submit to him. That means, only him. That's why choice of words is very important, Liam." -Scott called Liam back to him, away from Theo.

After that, Stiles was able to approach Theo without problem, he stuck the needle on Theo's arm and administered the pill in liquid form.

Theo calmed down and was so tired. He fell asleep on Stiles' shoulder. Stiles called his driver, Parrish, and ordered him to drive them home asap.

Stiles and Parrish carried Theo upstairs. Stiles ordered everyone to stay away from the room until tomorrow morning.

Stiles took deep breaths and changed Theo's clothes, trying real hard not to stare at the nakedness. Okay, he took a little peek. Once. Or maybe twice.

After succeeding to not do inappropriate things to Theo, Stiles dashed into the shower, for a cold shower. And something more.

When he walked out, Theo was awake already.

"H-Hey, Theo." -Stiles felt a little embarrassed. He just hoped Theo didn't sense him wanking in the shower. "So, how are you feeling?"

"... I trusted an alpha once." -Theo began telling the story Stiles asked about before.

Stiles didn't say a word and just sat beside him.

"He's a worker at the shelter. When I turned 12, he and I became close. I was young and stupid. I liked him. We... he did things to me. Then he called his friends..." -Theo's voice was breaking.

"Shhh, Theo." -Stiles stopped him, he gets the whole picture.

Stiles hugged him, rubbing his back to calm him down. When Theo fell asleep, Stiles ordered Parrish to look into the shelter personnels.

Stiles was about to get themselves tucked in to sleep when Parrish sends him a message.

Theo's offenders are all deceased. Caught in the hunter and wolves altercation a few years back. Stiles was a little disappointed. Those guys had the easy way out. They should've been brought to court and tried. And faced the shame and the punishment.

Stiles hugged Theo tight and went to sleep.

From then on, Theo trusts Stiles more. The incident was passed on to Stiles' and Scott's dad. Jackson was promptly punished. He was pulled out from school and transferred to another, far away.

Their days went on. They hangout, Corey comes over sometimes and Scott began to like Corey. Even asked him to be with him during the heat next full moon. Corey said okay since Scott is friends with Stiles and Stiles is a good alpha.

Theo cared for Corey like a brother, so he talked to Scott and warned him never to hurt Corey in anyway.

"You better make sure, or else... Also, do not force him to do something he doesn't want to."

"Yes. I promise you, Theo... wow, this is something new, an omega warning me."

"Hey, guys come on! Let's go." -Stiles invited them out.

It's Theo's birthday. And as a present, Stiles took them all out. The four of them eating out to a fancy restaurant, watching at the most expensive and exclusive movie theater and lounging in the preserve.

"We can do whatever here?" -Corey asked.

"Yeah. No one would disturb us here." -Stiles had the preserve closed off to everyone else.

Corey began to run around. Omegas don't really have freedom to play and run in the preserve without the chance of them getting mauled or taken advantage of by other werewolves of higher classes.

"Happy birthday, Theo."

"Thanks for this, Stiles."

Stiles inched his hand closer to Theo's, then slowly placed it over Theo's -who didn't mind. He let Stiles hold his hand like that.

The days, the weeks, that passed from then, made Stiles and Theo closer to each other. One can safely say that the two are in some kind of a relationship or understanding.

About a week before that full moon, Theo was feeling happy. He wanted to surprise Stiles a little. So he went ahead to school, he planned to buy him his favorite curly fries.

On his way to school, turning a corner, Jackson came onto him. They had an altercation. Theo fought as much as he can but Jackson made him submit.

"Oh shit! Shit!" -Theo tried to run away but his knees are pulling him down. And Jackson hot on his heels.

"You're gonna take my knot, like it or not!" -Jackson started dragging him away.

"Stiles!!!"

Stiles was just a few minutes behind Theo. He saw some spilled food in the sidewalk and felt very uneasy. He asked Parrish to stop. He stepped out of the limo and looked around.

"Stiles!!!"

Stiles snapped his head back to the direction of it. He ran towards there as fast as he could. He could smell Theo: anger, fear, and frustration.

"Theo?!?" -Stiles followed it into an alleyway and there, he saw Jackson, climbing on top of Theo. "Hey!!!"

All the noise and screaming drew out a lot of people to come and see what was happening.

"Stop it!!!" -Stiles was running, half-shifted, red eyes and claws out. Lunging towards Jackson.

But the other alpha was so obsessed and focused on trying to fuck Theo, he paid no attention to Stiles.

This made Stiles even angrier.

He said, in a thundering roar: "Get off him! Theo's mine!!!"

Stiles' aura spiked up. He was so scary that everyone watching bowed their heads and stayed still.

Stiles tackled Jackson off of Theo, punched him and punched him. Again and again that there are blood splattering all over.

"Stiles! Stiles, hey!" -Theo tried calming him down before he kills. An alpha in rage could definitely kill someone.

"Stiles??? Stiles!!!" -Scott passed by on his motorbike. He immediately stopped and held Stiles back

Scott was taken aback by how different Stiles is. So angry and so intense. Scott looked at Theo. He saw how disheveled he is, and how, almost, clawed off his clothes was. Scott then knew what happened.

"Damn it! Stiles, come on." -Scott pulled him away. "Theo, come with."

Scott dialled for his dad. Explained what happened and within a few minutes, there were ambulance and cars on the scene.

Stiles and Theo were sent home. Stiles was still agitated. Eyes still red. Fangs and claws still out. Anyone else would be scared. But not Theo. Theo was turned on.

Stiles took deep breaths, trying to calm down when he caught a whiff of something... "Theo?" Stiles looked over at his omega beside him.

Theo was tinged red. Hooded eyes, and biting his lips. "Stiles... back there... you were so hot."

"H-Hey, Theo."

Theo was on his lap now. Grinding, slowly. Stiles felt Theo's hard dick pressing on his stomach. He touched Theo's behind and felt how wet he is already.

"Fuck." -Stiles buried his nose on Theo's neck.

"Yeah, Stiles. Fuck... me."

"Shit! Theo are you su-"

Stiles didn't finish his sentence because Theo had crashed his lips on him with hungry, searing kisses.

Control and inhibitions were out of the window. Parrish noticed what was happening and closed his window. He drove faster towards the house. Upon reaching it, he parked the limo in the garage, opened the windows just a little bit, and left. Left Stiles and his omega to their business. Before stepping completely away, he heard the two moan and groan.

He smiled, he couldn't imagine the sweet and innocent Stiles is now grown up. And possibly topping that beautiful omega.

But it wasn't all as he thought it was.

Theo was the one on top. Although he was the one getting penetrated, he's the one in control. On Stiles' lap.

Stiles just follows what Theo wants. How Theo wants it. He just grunts, and moans throughout.

"Stiles, knot. Knot." -Theo was on the edge.

"Ohmyfcukinggod!" -Stiles did. He started knotting and cumming.

When his knot ebbed, Theo stood up from his lap. Stiles watched him, watched his seeds trickle down Theo's inner thighs... and Theo was still hard. Asking him to turn over and lay down.

"W-What? Are you-" -Stiles understood what Theo is asking for.

"Yeah... will you... let me?" -Theo slicked himself up.

Stiles looked at it. It looked so hard and wet. Looks like it would feel so good. One of the things Stiles keeps a secret of: he wants to feel it. To feel how it's like on the receiving end. He was always taught that alphas rule. That alphas top. But he wants both. Give and receive. He was doubtful he'd find an omega who would indulge him, most of them are bottoms. So when Theo asked...

"Well... we are indeed both unusual."

Stiles grinned, turned over, laid down and presented himself to Theo. Who muttered his appreciation and promises of a good time ahead.

And he delivered. Stiles felt so good. Theo knew what he's doing. Both reaching climax, they screamed each other's name and laid side by side.

"Theo?"

"Yeah, Stiles?"

"Will you... stay with me even after the heat moon next week?"

Theo smiled. He just got a proposal from an alpha. An alpha he actually likes. Loves.

"Court me properly first."

"Okay, Theo."

-+-+-+ ( complete ) +-+-+-

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eph-em-era · 2 years

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eph-em-era's guide to writing wellington like a wellingtonian (and NZ like you live here)

Welcome to this guide! WWDITS (the film) fic, as well as other... kiwi... things... seem to be getting popular at the moment, and honestly, I've read so many fics lately that totally ruin the immersion for me cause something's really off. No hate on y'all writing the fic, you're doing the lord's work, but I still scream internally. Thus, below is my guide to writing Wellington like you live here, as well as some cheeky tips on writing Kiwis in general. lessssshgooooo.

If you liked this, reblog it so others can see it!

THE CITY

This map is a smidge problematic but it's super true. If you're looking for an accurate suburb map, click here.

In the scheme of things, Wellington's 'main city' is made up of:

Te Aro - Cuba St, Courtenay Place, most bars, movie theatres and theatres. It's the 'entertainment district' of the city and where the majority of WWDITS is set. The place is usually full of people for the majority of the day and night.

Wellington Central - this is the business district. It basically shuts down after 4.30pm each night, and is super quiet on weekends, aside from a few bars and most of the city's hotels. If there was a quiet place for vampires to do some hunting in the middle of the night, it'd be here.

Aro Valley - an arty, hippie, residential area, Aro Valley is where there are a ton of students, craft beer brewers and damp houses. It's one of the oldest parts of Welly, and doesn't get a lot of sun. Artsy, liberal and very radical - tons of political protests have been born in the mouldy flats of the Aro Ditch.

Kelburn - this is where Victoria University (Vic) and the cable car is. Students mostly live here, though there's a fair amount of old wealthy people scattered about too.

Thorndon - where Parliament is and where most of the public servants hang out. Predominantly offices, though there's a lot of neat historical buildings up there too.

Obviously, heading further out you have Mt Vic, Pipitea, Northland, Mt Cook, Newtown and the like. Wellington is a city with very strict personalities per suburb (if you need to know I can always help you out, just message me!)

If you're writing anything movie-making-based, you'll be looking towards Miramar for the most part - that's where the majority of filming anything takes place, though most people who work at the studios do live in town (Miramar can be kinda isolating if you're a city person).

LIVING IN WELLINGTON

(Looking towards Mt Vic from Northland, dawn.)

Wellington very much is a city of contradictions.

People who live here tend to be employed in a few main professions: public servants (working for the govt), artists (visual, theatre, film, dance) or hospitality. We also have a ton of academics, cause we're basically based around two big universities - Massey University and Victoria University.

The weather can be very up and down. We get horrendous winds and storms (planes are frequently grounded cause of wind or fog), but when the weather is nice it's really nice. It's a beautiful place to live. However, if your characters are smart, they'll have a raincoat, rather than an umbrella. Umbrellas do not survive in our wind.

Rent can be quite high and most people don't live in the central city unless they're on a really good wage. Students/young people will only live in the central city (that's Te Aro usually) if they're living in kind of gross apartments for the most part.

Public transport, biking, walking and escooters are massive. Our trains are a bit shit and don't run that often, but buses are huge. Metlink, the company that runs them, is not amazing, but there are a lot of different routes. If you're living in Wellington, though, you're probably not driving places unless it's a fair bit away. Most people walk, cause the central city is flat. Buses in Wellington these days are lime-coloured but used to be yellow, grey or blue up until a couple of years ago. For escooters, we have Beam (purple) and Flamingo (pink) in the central city.

That being said, though - central Wellington is in a basin, and the rest of the city is on a hill. If your characters are venturing anywhere outside of Te Aro/Wellington Central, they'll be walking uphill or up steps. You get really used to it. Most people walk home from clubbing at night, though there's also the option of Uber, Ola or Zoomy.

For food shopping, we have New World, Countdown and (if you feel like travelling out of your way) Pak n Save. We also have dairies like Night n Day and the Four Square.

Things people do for fun are hiking, going to the movie theatre (The Roxy Cinema is my pick, but the Embassy is the biggest cinema in the central city), going to the theatre (BATS, Circa, the Opera House), going to comedy shows (San Fran, Fringe bar), going to the pub (my picks are JJ's, the Ivy and S&Ms), or just hanging out in their homes.

Our clubs are open every night, but are mostly busy Wednesdays (student night), Fridays and Saturdays. They're super busy between 10pm-3am, because students leave their hostels at 10pm to head into town (that's their 'have to be either in bed or out of the hostel' curfew).

Very few people have private medical insurance. Our medical care is heavily subsidized, and if someone is in an accident they're covered by ACC which pays out the time you're off work and any support you might need. Dentistry and optometry are super expensive. However, our medical procedures are fast and often free. My dad had significant open-heart surgery in a city my parents don't live in and all my mum paid while she was staying with him was groceries - the hotel, travel and medical care was free.

WRITING KIWIS

(Wellington's South Coast, looking towards the South Island).

Here's a few things you should know when writing people who live in New Zealand.

For the most part, people are really chill. Alarmingly so in some cases. We have a very 'she'll be right' attitude - meaning that we're calm in the face of chaos because we think it'll just blow over.

Our country is also very collectivist - we really come together in times of strife, and we do get a lot of it. Earthquakes, floods, pandemics - Kiwis turn up to support each other.

A lot of Kiwis, especially in Wellington, are quite politically-minded. There's protests in Wellington... every single week, it seems like. Most Wellingtonians are quite leftists too - the city is built on protest. The South Island tends to vote more conservative (for the right wing political parties like National and ACT), while the North Island tends to vote more liberal (for the centre-left party Labour and the leftist party Green)

Kiwis also swear. A lot. Not necessarily in professional speech - though I have literally used swear words in professional emails - but we're a colloquial place. Anything up to 'shit' is basically acceptable on the news.

We're working towards being a much more multi-lingual society. Māori is commonly used on TV, in print, and most places have a duo Māori/English name. I pepper Māori into my conversations. There's definitely people (mostly older people) who have trouble with that though. NZ can be very racist and there's a malevolent undercurrent of people who are angry that we're embracing Māori language and culture more these days.

SOME COMMON WORD SUBSTITUTIONS

(Wellington, from Kelburn).

Words you might use internationally, and how they're used here.

Convenience store = dairy

Grocery store/Walmart = supermarket

Swimming costume/bikini/bathing suit = togs

Flip flops = jandals

Holiday home = bach (they're usually just beach cottages, not that fancy)

Hiking = tramping

college = uni

SOME COMMON NZ WORDS/PHRASES

(New Years 2021 - over the Wellington waterfront)

Bro = friend, can be of any gender

Mate = as above, though can also just be used to refer to an acquaintance (i'd call a shopkeeper mate)

Munted = something's fucked or broken beyond repair

Stoked = pleased about something

Ae/eh/ay/aye = pronounced "ae" - something you'd say in agreement

Wops = middle of nowhere

Sweet as = no problem, no worries.

It's all good = as above

She'll be right = as above

Taking the piss = making a mockery of, eg: "You're taking the piss, mate" meaning "you're mocking me/this, friend"

On the piss = drinking/drunk

(you're such an) egg = you're being a dumbass (you can just call someone an egg too)

I hope you liked my guide :) If you have any additional questions, hit me up! I am super happy to help you write people/characters/stories set in NZ or Wellington!

#guide #how to #wellington #new zealand #what we do in the shadows #wwdits #anton #viago #taika waititi #nz #aotearoa #ofmd #our flag means death #rhys darby

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years

Text

[21:48] ~ Changbin [M]

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N: @taestannie is a genius! Pointed something out to me and it just had to become a waiter AU for binnie boy 🥺💜

Genre: Smut, waiter/waitress AU, friends to lovers

Friday night shifts were the worst possible shifts to be placed on and everybody knew that which is why everyone except for you, Changbin and a couple of others were the only ones waiting tables that night. The restaurant was overcrowded by people as it always was on a Friday night and you were already wanting to pull your hair out of your scalp and you'd only been on shift for ten minutes.

"Drinking game tonight?" Changbin asked as he watched you walking over to him at the bar, you nodded in agreement showing him the back of your notepad, you'd already started taking notes on the number of times you'd been told to smile. You and Changbin had been working there for the last year and you'd come up with a drinking game to do every Friday you locked up at night - you were the managers which meant you were in charge of locking up each night.

"Just you and me tonight though, everyone's leaving early. Felix has a date," You rolled your eyes when didn't Felix have a date? Changbin watched as you bent down in front of him to pick up one of the serving trays from his bar. You were wearing the usual black tight-fitted low cut top that the sleazy restaurant owner ordered that every girl wore on shift along with the tight pencil skirt that drove Changbin wild for you. Everything you ever did drove Changbin wild for you, he could never fully concentrate when you were on a shift together.

"You okay there Changbin?" You giggled coming back up from the ground and making eye contact with him, he nodded his head and began making drinks from his notepad when you joined him on the other side of the bar.

"Do you know what table 45 said to his wife just now?" You whispered nodding your head over to the window seat where a couple were sitting together, he shook his head and you started laughing softly at what you’d heard them talking about.

"They're taking their pick of the guys tonight and you caught her eye." He groaned at the thought of it, it wasn’t how he wanted to spend his night tonight. Everyone knew that couple, they came in every Friday to flirt with the waiters and waitresses, giving them huge tips and making sure they never shared them with anyone else. Always touching and flirting with people whenever they got the chance, you were sure they were trying to make a threeway happen.

"Can't say I blame them, hot stuff." You joked winking at him before walking away with your tray of porn star cocktails, Changbin watched as you swung your hips from side to side a little extra than usual. You and Changbin would flirt...a lot...There was no secret that there was the sexual tension between you both but nothing ever happened as much as both of you wanted it to.

"Cat got your tongue?" Chan - one of the other waiters - questioned when he watched Changbin watching you, he stuttered over his words spilling beer onto the tray he was holding.

"W-What?! No, her?! We're just friends," Chan snorted at the younger waiter in front of him and shook his head,

"Sure thing, and I’m a rapper" He said sarcastically as he walked away from Changbin while he went onto cleaning up the drinks he'd split all over the place.

Towards the end of the night, it was starting to get so busy you and the other waiters were climbing over one another to get through the place. The place always got like this towards the end of the night, people would come here before they went on a night on the town since the drinks were cheaper and you could find friends there easier than in the packed out clubs.

"Can I start you off with some drinks tonight?" You questioned looking down at a group of girls who all looked disappointed that they didn't have a male server with them but instead they had you to deal with.

"Excuse me Y/n," You looked over your shoulder as you heard Changbin say your name. God, you'd give anything to hear him moan it just once, after a couple of seconds you realised you couldn't move thanks to the place being so packed full. He placed his hands on either side of your hips and pressed himself against you as he got by the table. You could feel every inch of him and it sent a pool to your core just thinking about him,

"Y-yeah, drinks?" You stuttered out trying to distract yourself from the need of wanting Changbin to take you into the back and fuck you until your voice ran out.

Changbin stood at the bar mixing drinks and you looked at your pad, you had a bunch of cocktails you weren't skilled enough to make and you knew he was. You walked over with a giant smile on your face and leant forward on the bar. Changbin tried to keep his eyes on you but it was hard when you were practically hanging out of your top for all to see, it only sent more blood rushing to his cock. He was concentrating so hard on not staring at your breasts all he'd heard you say is,

"Sex on the beach and make me scream?" His eyes snapped to yours in horror and you frowned at him,

"You're the only one decent enough at making them don't make me beg Binnie." You whined out running your fingers up and down his bicep as you gave him your best puppy dog eyes you could conjure up. Flirting with him was the best way to get your own way right now and you knew that too well,

"Yeah, s-sure. What table?" He stuttered out finally realising that you meant the cocktails and you weren't asking him to fuck you on the beach and make you scream.

"Table 12, be careful Binnie. I think they bite." You whispered in his ear moving away to go on the five-minute break that you had. You just needed to be away from him for five minutes, any longer around him and you'd be dying for him to bend you over the bar.

"Here you go ladies," Changbin said as he unloaded the drinks onto their table, they all smiled at him and began flirting heavily but its something he was used to after working her. He watched as you came out from the back of the kitchens adjusting your top and he bit his lip watching you closely.

"Can I get you anything else?" He asked going back to his job and trying to ignore the raging hard-on he was getting under his apron, he thanked the lord that he had one otherwise everyone would know what was going on in his mind right now. You had no idea what you did to him with the simplest of things, you could say a word to him and have him hard for you. One-touch, one whisper, anything and he would be yours for you to take.

"Thanks, Binnie, I owe you." You said as he came back to the bar you were standing behind, he went to walk behind you when you back up into him thanks to another waitress walking in front.

"Shit sorry," You whispered as you felt him against your ass, he was hard and it turned you on even more than you already were for him. You ignored the feeling and cleared your throat,

"Last hour! Let's go!" You yelled clapping your hands together trying to get everyone on the move and into their places for final drink orders.

The shutters were pulled down and locked, you and Changbin were alone in the whole restaurant trying to close up everything. You’d finished counting out the tips before everyone left for their own nights and now you were counting up the register while Changbin stood behind his bar.

"The perks of being bar manager and manger," You looked up from the books in front of you and over to him while he spoke, he pulled out a bottle of tequila for you both and two small shot glasses smirking darkly as he knew you always had to take more shots than he did.

"We can drink our sorrows away," He was overdramatizing everything while you counted up and cashed the money into the safe. Once it was done you walked over to the bar he was standing behind and took out your notepad.

"You're going to be hammered," He whistled looking at all of the notes you had by everything you had to take a shot for,

"Five for being told to smile, 6 for asking for my number, 10 for the sly ''accidental'' ass grab, 9 for the number of times a man has told me that my skirt fits me perfectly." You slammed the notepad down and waited for him to show you his pad but he didn’t,

"Not showing," He put it into his top pocket and you scoffed,

"Erm, yes you are those are the rules. Give it to me." He shook his head at you tapping his pocket with the book inside and you blinked at him,

"Come and get it," You stared at him from across the bar, he knew you would and you knew you would climb across that bar and get it from his hands if you had to.

"Fine," He threw it down in front of you not wanting to risk you hurting yourself if you climbed over the bar and you sighed reading from his page. You didn’t see why he was hiding it, it was nothing,

"Five shots? Five shots?!" You sounded offended and you were, here you were with 30 shots.

"You're taking some of mine, I can't handle 30 on my own." You told him as he started making up the shots in front of you.

Five minutes later you were 15 shots in and starting to get a little giddy from the alcohol, you’d never been one to handle your drinks and neither had Changbin so they’d gone straight to your heads.

"I have an idea, I saw it on a movie once and it looked like fun." Changbin watched as you pulled him over to one of the tables and laid down on top of it.

"W-What are you doing?!" Blood rushed to his cock again as he watched you start to unbutton your shirt and reveal your black bra to him, it made his mouth run dry as he thought about you laying there like that for him,

"Relax Binnie," You placed a lime into your mouth, salt on your chest and poured some of the shot onto your stomach waiting for him to catch onto what you wanted him to do.

"Body shots? Really?" You nodded and he smirked at you, both of you too tipsy to care anymore and far too pent up to even care that you were just two flirty friends.

"You asked for it Princess," The nickname sent a pool to your panties and your legs clamped together trying to ignore the pressing feeling of wanting him inside of you. He sucked the tequila from your belly button and then slowly licked the salt from your chest, coming up to your mouth and smirking as you proudly held the lime there for him. He licked his bottom lip before taking the lime out of your mouth with his lips before throwing it somewhere across the room. He grabbed your face and began to make out with you heavily on the table, your hands went into his hair bringing his face closer to yours. Tugging on the strands of his hair and he let out a low grunt of your name, that was all it took. You needed him.

"Want you." You whispered to him and he swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat nodding and looking at you as you shifted to the edge of the table spreading your legs open for him, it wasn't the most hygienic of places for this to happen but neither of you cared right now. You needed one another and you weren't going to waste time calling a taxi to take you home. Your shaky hands undid his belt and dropped his pants to the floor and he began kissing you again, he laid your back flat against the table gently,

"C-Changbin," You whispered looking into his eyes as he pulled away from the kiss, his breathing was laboured and he looked at you as he slowly slipped two fingers into your heat, he didn't even give you a second to get used to it as he began to finger you. Your back arched off the table and you moaned out his name clenching around his fingers. He groaned watching you with lust in his eyes as you clenched around his fingers he just kept imagining what you would feel like around him, crying out his name whenever he'd hit that sweet spot of yours.

"Good?" He chuckled adding another finger into your heat, your hands gripped onto the edges of the table as your toes curled as you felt him hitting your g-spot,

"R-Really good Binnie!" You whimpered feeling overwhelmed with him finally taking you, it was everything you'd wanted and everything he’d always wanted/

"I want you though Binnie, all of you," You whispered seductively, he slipped his fingers out of you and began pumping himself in his hand to slick himself in your arousal as he watched you rub your clit for him.

“Need you Binnie,” You moaned out making eye contact with him as he pumped himself faster at the thought of being inside of you, the amount of times he’d done this in his apartment. Thinking about you while jerking himself off was unimaginable.

"S-Shit, you're so fucking beautiful." He grunted lining himself up at your entrance, he looked at you asking for approval and you nodded as he slowly sank into you.

"A-ah fuck," He grunted as your nails dug into his biceps, he sank all the way into you and held himself still as he felt your pussy clenching around him needly sucking him into you.

"You're so tight," His comment made you whimper and he chuckled seeing you like this, you'd done nothing but tease and flirt all evening but now you were beneath him begging for him to move. The sounds you were making drove him wild and he slowly began thrusting into you, pulling you further off the edge of the table to angle himself deeper.

He hooked one of your legs over your shoulder and held you in place on the table thrusting roughly into you.

"Shit! Changbin!" You cried out hands desperate to hold back onto him to steady yourself from falling off the table. He kissed you passionately as he continued to fuck into you with small yet powerful thrusts.

You knew you weren't going to last long, you'd dreamt of this moment happening for months and here it was.

"I'm close Changbin," You moaned out to him and it only made him more animalistic, his hips began snapping in and out of you at an unspeakable pace that had your head spinning. You cried out his name as he took his thumb and began rubbing your sensitive clit, he wanted to feel you cum around him.

"S-Shit!" You screamed feeling your high hitting you and pushing through you intensely, your legs shook as you came around him and he continued fucking into you.

"I-I'm cumming!" You whimpered hips bucking so hard that the table was starting to shake and wobble beneath you both. Changbin grunted thrusting into you one last time and burying himself deep inside as he came into you filling you up as he moaned out your name.

You stay there for a couple of minutes with him still inside of you trying to catch your breath and come down from the highs.

"Whoa," You whispered once you were both cleaned up and the table was cleaned.

"That's all you have to say?" He chuckled coming over to you, your ass was pressed against the table as he wrapped his arm around you.

"What do you want me to say? 'Thank God It's Friday?'" You stared at him and he shook his head at you softly placing a kiss on both cheeks before leaving one on your lips.

"No, I want you to say that you'll come home with me tonight." You nodded at him,

"Then I'll go home with you tonight." You whispered to him leaning forward and giving him another kiss,

"But first I have to delete the camera footage from the main office." You told him as you pointed up at the CCTV cameras in the restaurant.

A/n: This was written last night so if there’s any mistakes I’m sorry but I love this and I loved the idea when @taestannie came to me with it and I just had to do this

Tagline:

@writingdreamsnottragedies @snowy-meowl @jooniesdarlingdimples

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hoeforhops · 4 years

Text

Us Fragile Things ― September, part one.

in which Valerie Martin and Billy Hargrove find each other for the first time in four years in a dive bar and realize the difference those four years can make.

an explicit Billy Hargrove x OFC fic. rating: explicit, 18+ word count: 10.6k cross posted to AO3. warnings: alcohol/tobacco use, unprotected sex, oral sex, fingering, vaginal sex

SEPTEMBER 1ST, 1989

Leaning back against the brick wall of the outside of the bar, Valerie Martin watched her friend cup her hands around her eyes to stare into the dark bar that was their usual hangout. It was chilly for the first of September, and she shivered slightly, wishing she’d thought to bring a jacket.

“I think they’re closed, Char,” Valerie told her with a sigh, watching as Charlotte pulled on the door handle again for good measure.

“Yeah, I know,” she said, her purple painted lips pouting as she turned around to face Valerie. “I’ve just been thinking about a $1 margarita all day, and now I feel cheated.”

Valerie huffed out a laugh as Charlotte walked away from the door with slumped shoulders.

“Do you want to try another bar, or did you just want to head straight to Amy’s? I’m fine with going home, doesn’t matter to me,” she told her roommate, imagining a quiet night to herself on the sofa at home. She’d spent more than half an hour on her hair and make up to go out, but she hardly hated the thought changing out of her heels and tights and into sweatpants.

“We’ll try somewhere else!” Charlotte was quick to say, already nodding as she looked each way down the sidewalk. “It’s our senior year, and we’re not breaking our tradition of first Friday shots just because Pinky’s is closed.” Her tone was firm, invoking the mention of tradition to keep Valerie from weaseling her way out of drinks. “Besides, this is the first year we’ve both been legal to do it, so it was supposed to be extra fun and public.”

Charlotte was like that, all about tradition and pomp and circumstance. They’d been a random pairing for roommates their freshman year of college and had barely spoken their first week until Charlotte pulled out a bottle of vodka and poured them each a healthy shot, declaring it a celebration of making it through their first week of classes. They became fast friends after that and decided to live together through the rest of their college years, becoming best friends in the process.

Valerie didn’t try to argue with her and mirrored her friend in looking up and down the street. Downtown was quieter tonight than she’d expected for a college town, “I’m pretty sure there’s a bar over on Dorsey. I’ve never been, so I’m not sure what it’s like, but I’m sure it’ll work for first Friday shots. Plus, it’s closer to Amy’s,” she said, nodding in the direction of the bar.

“Okay, yeah, that sounds good. I’ll hang around for a drink or two, then head to Amy’s,” Charlotte agreed, nodding as she linked her arm with Valerie’s to step away from Pinky’s.

As they walked, their heels clicked against the pavement, but they were silent otherwise, and Valerie’s mind wandered to how different things would be a year from now. In 365 days, she intended to be starting her first year of teaching, and Charlotte would be starting law school. Neither of them really knew where they’d end up after this year, and it scared Valerie a little more than she’d like to admit, not sure she was ready to be on her own for the first time.

The bar was well hidden between the other downtown shops that Valerie almost missed it, and as soon as she opened the door, she felt out of place. Pinky’s bordered on trendy and was usually full of college kids, but this place, who’s name Valerie couldn’t even remember, seemed hidden on purpose. It became clear quite quickly that she and Charlotte were the youngest people in the bar, which seemed to be filled with townies for the most part. Like an episode of Cheers , it felt like the whole bar seemed to turn and look at them as they walked in.

Charlotte, never one to be bothered by standing out, spotted a table in the back and pulled Valerie along with her. Most of the patrons were male, a few of them turning their heads to watch as the two of them slipped past on their way to the table. The bar was heavy with smoke and buzzing with chatter and scattered laughs. When she sat down and looked around a little more, Valerie started to feel overdressed in her heavy v-neck sweater and tight corduroy skirt she wore over snagged tights.

“Are we still sticking to vodka, like always?” Charlotte asked, still standing in anticipation of going up to the bar.

“Fine by me. Get a slice of lime too, and a PBR please,” Valerie said, making a mental note to pay her roommate back later, even if she wouldn’t take it. Charlotte nodded, smiling as she turned to go up to the bar in her tight jeans and equally tight neon blue tanktop.

Left alone for the moment, Valerie tapped her thumb against the wooden table top idly, glancing around again. This time she noticed a few people closer to their age and felt a little more at ease. There were a group of guys probably in their early to mid-twenties at the far end of the bar, and the shoulders and hair of one seemed weirdly familiar. Before she could take longer to try and place the familiarity, Charlotte returned, drinks in hand.

Valerie thanked her roommate quietly as the blonde put her requested items down in front of her before taking a seat across the table. She’d matched Valerie’s own order, smiling as she picked up her shot glass and opened her mouth.

“Time for the speech?” Valerie teased, cutting the girl off before she could even start. The comment earned her a gentle kick under the table, and they each laughed as Charlotte held the shot glass even higher.

“Of course it is, who do you think I am?” she responded, clearing her throat as he eyebrows knit together briefly. Valerie couldn’t help but roll her eyes, grinning as she too picked up her shot glass. “Three years ago, we barely knew each other, but we made it through our first week of college together. In those three years, I feel like we’ve earned the upgrade from Burnett’s to Grey Goose, and a lot has changed since then, obviously. I was in the closet, you were still a virgin.” It was Valerie’s turn to kick her under the table lightly at that, and Charlotte paused to laugh with her again. “But, here we are, our last official first Friday shots before we’re actual grown ups, and we’ve made it this far, together, and now we’ll take this shot, together, so cheers, I guess?” She ended her speech with a shrug and another quick laugh then clinking her glass against Valerie’s, and they both swallowed the shot in one go.

Grimacing as the vodka went down, Valerie reached for the lime in front of her to she sucked the juice from it to chase the liquor. Her face was twisted into a stupid expression, doing her best not to full body shudder from the shot, and she turned her said to the side, just as the familiar boy with strong shoulders and honey colored curls turned as well and looked right at her.

The shock of recognition hit Valerie hard, making her gasp and sending lime juice down the wrong pipe to make her choke. Her reaction was completely obvious and she still coughing as she turned back Charlotte who looked concerned. Her coughing caught the attention of one of the older townies at the bar who also turned to look at her before his attention returned to the beer bottle in front of him.

“Are you okay?” Charlotte asked, frowning slightly as Valerie opened her can of beer to take a drink once she was able to breath properly.

“Yeah,” Valerie croaked, clearing her throat and taking another sip of beer. God, her face was absolutely burning, and she could feel it all the way down her neck. “The guy at the bar, in the green shirt. I went to high school with him. I thought he looked familiar before I even saw his face, but it just surprised me that it was actually him, I guess.” Valerie couldn’t stop herself from sinking into her chair a little more, pushing her wavy, dark hair out of her face.

Charlotte’s eyebrows rose in interest and turned her head just enough to discreetly look in the direction that had sent her best friend into such a state of shock. “With the blonde hair?” she clarified and Valerie nodded. “Yeah, he’s still looking over here…and there he goes, his attention’s back on his friends for now.” Her shoulders relaxed slightly at that news and she took a long drink of beer as Charlotte finally opened hers. “He’s cute. What’s his name?”

“Billy Hargrove. And he knows he’s cute, trust me,” Valerie told her, scoffing quietly as her mind wandered back to Hawkins High School, over an hour away. She wished she could say she had forgotten all about Billy Hargrove, that he never crossed her mind, but that would certainly be a lie. He liked to creep into her thoughts late at night with those gorgeous eyes and his pouty mouth, making her wish she was bold and wild like he had always been.

“Yeah, I can tell just by looking at him,” Charlotte responded, unable to stop herself from laughing a little. She nudged Valerie under the table again, grinning as she sipped at her own beer. “Was he mean to you?”

“He was kind of the type that was mean to everyone, I guess, but he never like, targeted me or anything. He graduated a year ahead of me, so we only had one class together,” Valerie explained, remembering the lingering smell of smoke and his cologne that she’d gotten so used to during the semester they’d been lab partners in chemistry.

“Hm,” Charlotte responded, nodding as she mulled the words over. “You gonna just ignore him?”

“I planned on it, yeah,” she admitted, shrugging as she straightened her back some.

“Good.” The word came with a wide smile from the blonde who knocked her beer can against Valerie’s with a soft metallic clink .

The two of them chatted comfortably for a while, nursing their beers as they felt the Grey Goose shots hit. Charlotte was her usual happy self, talking about what Jerry, the asshole in all of her economics courses, had said earlier while Valerie tried to forget about the blast from the past up at the bar. She was only half listening really, trying to remember the last time she’d even seen Billy Hargrove. His graduation, probably. She had heard he’d picked up a job at the Hawkins pool that summer and in turn, avoided that place like nobody’s business.

Just as she was tipping the PBR back to swallow the last of it, the bartender brought over another beer and sat it in front of her.

“I didn’t order this,” Valerie was quick to say, practically leaning back from the can on the table.

“A guy at the bar sent it over, said he thinks he knows you,” the man told her with a shrug that said ‘I’m just doing my job.’ As the bartender stepped away, he took the empty shot glasses and beer cans with him, one of each stained with Charlotte’s purple lipstick and the rim of the others stained with the wine color of Valerie’s.

The man’s words made Charlotte let out a bark of laughter as soon as he stepped away, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth a second later as Valerie grimaced. “Damn, and I was just gonna get up to head to Amy’s,” Charlotte said, sounding truly disappointed that contact had been made right as she was about to leave. She sighed softly, glancing at the watch on her wrist. “I can stay if you want me to.” Her tone was almost hopeful and she was grinning in a way that said she herself wanted to stay to see how it all unfolded.

Valerie thought on it for a moment, pressing her lips together before shaking her head. “No, it’s alright, go see your girlfriend. I’ll probably head home soon anyway. Tell Amy I said hi,” she said, smiling as convincingly as she could manage. Charlotte pouted a bit but shrugged, getting to her feet and coming around to hug Valerie from the side.

“Okay,” she said, dragging the word out as an exaggerated whine then grinning wildly. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” Valerie nodded and matched her roommate’s smile as the girl took off.

With Charlotte gone, Valerie reached for the beer in front of her, opening it as she ran her tongue along her teeth and took a drink. She was doing her best to will herself not to turn around and look to see if Billy was still there, but the buzz of the shot and the first beer made it harder not to give into that urge. If she knew what was good for her, she would’ve left with Charlotte and walked home, pretending that she hadn’t seen or thought of Billy Hargrove at all. She didn’t want to know him anymore, didn’t want to know anything about Hawkins, Indiana, didn’t want to be or know the person she was when he’d last seen her.

Tipsy and stewing in the thoughts she usually buried until late at night when she was thinking about endless ‘what if’s, Valerie didn’t notice Billy walking toward her table until it was too late. He stood behind Charlotte’s empty chair, both hands on it like he was contemplating sitting down as he looked at her. Valerie blinked at him, just barely tilting her head up and hoping she didn’t look too wide-eyed. From his expression, she gathered he was still trying to place who she was.

“Thanks for the drink,” she said finally, raising her eyebrows once before taking a sip of the beer in her hand. He looked so good that she was surprised she hadn’t stumbled over the words. His hair was a little shorter than she remembered and he was, so far, lacking the passive scowl he’d always worn.

Billy scoffed, grinning with the slightest hint of a dimple. “Is that really all you’re gonna give me here?” he said, clearly dragging his tongue along the edge of his teeth.

“You gonna sit down?” Valerie asked, straightening up in her seat in an effort to look more confident than she actually felt.

She watched as Billy’s jaw clenched briefly as he looked back toward his friends still at the bar, then pulled the chair out to sit down. Somehow, Valerie decided, this was worse. He seemed closer now, much more in her space, and she subconsciously tucked her feet under her chair as if accidentally nudging him would make him vanish into thin air. Billy was still looking at her and she swore she could hear the gears churning in his head.

“I know that I know you,” he said, leaning forward in his seat with his elbows on the table. Valerie nodded once, the corners of her mouth aching with the urge to grin. “If I buy you another drink, will you give me a hint?”

Damn, that was a smooth line.

“Get me the drink first,” she said, a smug smile sliding onto her face. Thank god for alcohol, honestly. As she took a long sip of the beer in her hand to finish it off, Valerie couldn’t help but feel powerful and mysterious as she set the empty can down on the table top.

Billy looked impressed, nodding once just as Valerie had earlier, and got to his feet. “You want another beer, or a shot of whatever it was you choked on earlier?” The question caught her off guard as he lingered at the table and she laughed, bringing a hand up to tuck her hair behind her ear.

“Vodka shot, with a lime wedge,” Valerie said, actually smiling a little this time. He didn’t say anything else before starting towards the bar, and Valerie let herself exhale. None of this felt real, and she found herself staring at Billy’s back as he stood at the bar, wondering if he’d disappear otherwise.

“If I’m being honest here, I never thought Val Martin would be one to shoot vodka,” he said when he returned, offering a wink as he sat the shot glass and lime down in front of her. Valerie’s head had shot up to meet his eye at the mention of the nickname, realizing he had been the last, and only person, to call her that.

“Took you long enough,” she responded as Billy took his seat across from her again. He held her gaze, and smirked. “Let me guess, so many girls, so little time?” There was a teasing tone to her voice, enjoying the chance to potentially bring his ego down a bit.

“Ouch, that was brutal,” Billy said, putting a hand on his heart as he leaned back in his chair a little. He’d gotten a shot for himself as well, a brown liquor, but she wasn’t sure exactly what.

“What did you think my shot of choice was then?” Valerie asked, leaning into the table a little a she picked up her shot glass.

“Tequila. Jack, maybe,” he said, shrugging slightly as he grinned. He mirrored her action, picking up his shot all while maintaining eye contact with her. “Cheers to the angel who’s the only reason I graduated.”

Valerie couldn’t argue with that. With a tight smile, she brought her glass to clink against his, and they only looked away from each other to swallow down the shots. Her face pinched as she sucked on the lime a second later, opening her eyes again to find Billy watching her, just glad she hadn’t choked this time.

With the empty glasses on the table, they were both silent for a moment, and knew that Billy hadn’t been exaggerating what he’d said. He’d told her the same thing after their chemistry final.

“I never thought I’d see you anywhere near Indiana again, dead or alive,” Valerie said to break the silence. Her buzz was growing, and she leaned to rest an elbow on the table, resting her chin in her palm as she looked at him. She was pretty sure he’d swore that exact thing to her at least twice before.

“I left for a while after high school, moved back to California for a couple of years,” he explained, hesitating just slightly and stopping there for a moment. “I just moved to town a couple of months ago. My sister’s just started college here, it was cheaper for us to move here together and get a place.”

“Max, right? I sat next to her at graduation,” Valerie said, but she knew she was right. She remembered how firmly he’d remind people that Max was his step -sister, not his sister. People usually learned pretty quickly not to make that mistake again.

“You came to my graduation?” Billy asked, his eyebrows coming together in an expression she couldn’t quite read.

Valerie’s cheeks flushed slightly and she pursed her lips. “You weren’t the only one graduating, y’know. My brother, Ian, was in your class,” she informed him, leaning back in her seat as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Billy nodded and was quiet for a moment. “Do you go here too?” he said finally, meeting her eye as he toyed with his empty shot glass idly.

The question surprised her. She’d never heard Billy Hargrove ask someone a question about themselves so casually like that. Thinking back, she wasn’t even sure he’d ever asked her anything about herself, period.

“Yeah, I’m graduating with my education degree in May,” she told him, and the grin that spread across his face made her heart race inside her chest.

“You gonna be a chemistry teacher?” he asked, and Valerie couldn’t help the way she laughed girlishly as she shook her head.

“Social studies is my focus, so I can teach history, and geography. Stuff like that,” she explained, his gaze on her so intent that it took effort not to squirm in her seat.

“You’ll be a good teacher,” he said after a pause with such sincerity that 17 year old Valerie would’ve never thought he could muster. The compliment made her cheeks turn rosy and she smiled, feeling the same warmth in her chest as when he had thanked her for her help after their chemistry final.

Valerie had forgotten how….entrancing it was to hold Billy Hargrove’s full attention like this. He’d always been so easily distracted by a passing pretty face or short skirt, always being greeted by passerbyers in the library when she’d helped him with his chemistry work that there had been a few times they’d had to meet in empty classrooms just to get him to focus. Being alone with him, it was easy to tell why he did so well for himself with the ladies. He had this way of making girls feel like they were the only person in the world, the only person he’d ever even seen. Even now, it was working like a charm, leaving Valerie willing to do backflips or cartwheels just to keep his attention like this.

“What about you, huh? What are you doing with your life now that you’re back in our fine Hoosier state?” Valerie asked after collecting herself a little, an easy smile on her face. She was toeing the line of drunkenness, waiting for that last shot to hit.

Billy grimaced at the mention of the state nickname, shaking his head. “Don’t ever fucking say that word around me again,” he said, his tone light as he cracked a grin. Valerie actually laughed, nodding in agreement before he continued. “I picked up a factory gig in Hawkins when we were living there, and absolutely fucking hated it. When we moved up here, I worked a few odd jobs, but I started a full time spot in the kitchen in that fancy hotel by the interstate a few weeks ago, mostly doing prep stuff.”

It was such a mundane conversation, but Valerie was practically hanging on every word he said. She was back to resting her chin in her hand, leaning into the table and smiling idly as she listened. Honestly, she wasn’t sure if she was just drunk or if this Billy was different somehow. She hasn’t seen him scowl once, hasn’t sense even a tinge of the ever present anger that had absolutely hung around him like a dark cloud in high school.

“How did Max do with her first week of classes?” Valerie asked, hearing her words just barely slur at the end.

Billy shrugged, sighing. “Fine, I guess. She’s mostly taking gen eds, and is already bitching about that writing course that all of the freshmen have to take.”

Valerie scrunched her nose up at the memory of that class, looking down at her empty shot glass as she fiddled with it nervously. “Yeah, that one fucking sucks. Let her know I’m happy to help if she wants me to proofread or anything for her.” She looked up and met Billy’s eye easily, knowing her face was flushed.

“I’ll tell her, and she’ll probably take you up on that. She’s still a little pissed at me for telling her to go to college in the first place,” he admitted, laughing once as he glanced toward the group he’d started the night with.

“Do you need to get back to your friends?” Valerie asked, licking her lips quickly as she glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nearly midnight already, surprised by how long they spent sitting there and catching up.

“Nah, they’ll be alright. They’re guys I work with, still don’t know some of their names yet,” he said, shrugging one shoulder as he leaned back in his chair a little more. Valerie was having a hard time taking her eyes off him and she nodded, her toes curling inside her heels as he held her gaze.

“I’m surprised to find the former keg king of Hawkins hanging out at some townie bar like this when you could be chasing tail at a party closer to campus,” she told him, biting her lip.

Billy grinned and shifted in his seat again. “Believe it or not, that’s not really my scene anymore,” he said and had the audacity to wink at her.

Valerie’s eyebrows shot up, looking impressed as she nodded. “If I hadn’t seen it myself, I would never have believed it,” she responded, her hand coming up to tuck her hair behind her ear. “If I had a drink, I’d suggest a toast to personal growth, but obviously, I’m out and not in need of any more alcohol tonight.” She was smiling by the end of it, giggling slightly in a way that she’d hate herself for if she was sober. Billy laughed with her and the sound warmed her to the core.

“I could say the same about you though, honestly. All dressed up and gorgeous to hang in this dive? Doesn’t sound much like the Val I remember,” he said, sucking his teeth as he looked her over once with that slow gaze that made her forget how to breathe.

And there it was, the flirting, the cocky attitude, and the tone that had lured in so many girls in Hawkins. She’d been sucked right into it and was damn near helpless to stop it. It was like the thing about throwing frogs into boiling water and they jump out, but if you put them in the pot and gradually raise the temperature, they don’t realize the trap until it’s too late.

Had this all been a trap? Curiosity was already eating at her, wondering what had made him change like this. If he has actually changed at all. Calling Max his sister, speaking so freely about himself and asking personal questions about herself were far from things the Billy she remembered would do so willingly, let alone with a smile. Was this all a gimmick, and he was just telling her what she wanted to hear? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time he’d made that ploy work for himself.

“Well, it didn’t seem like you remembered me at all, so what do you know?” she shot back with a crooked smile as soon as she remembered how to string together a sentence. Valerie was trying to sound playful but wasn’t sure it came across that way. Billy seemed surprised by the words, but that didn’t stop him from grinning. “I only ended up here because our usual bar was closed for some reason. I came out with my roommate earlier, but she took off for her girlfriend’s for the night.”

Billy nodded slowly, licking his lips before he leaned forward so his elbows were resting against the table top. Valerie’s drunken instinct told her to lean back, but she held her ground, keeping eye contact with him until his gaze dropped to her mouth.

“Small fucking world, huh? And you’ve got no boyfriend of your own to keep you occupied tonight?” he asked, his voice low like it was a secret to be shared between them.

Valerie let out a huff of laughter. “That’s an awfully bold question,” she said, trying to ignore the way her heart was pounding in her chest.

“Just trying to do my due diligence before asking if you wanna get out of here,” he responded, leaning forward even more as Valerie sucked in a breath and froze.

The sounds of the bar around them had faded out and she found herself fighting the urge to lean forward more, just as he had. She was practically hanging on every word that left that plush mouth of his, forgetting that it was her turn to say something.

The laugh that bubbled from her surprised Valerie even, bringing a hand up to her mouth to cover the sound. “Are you serious?” she asked, grinning widely.

Billy frowned slightly, wondering if he was about to get shut down completely. “Yeah?” he responded with a slightly defensive edge to his voice.

“Thought that wasn’t your scene anymore,” she said, tilting her head up a little more in an effort to seem confident, like she wasn’t warm all over at the thought of him taking her home.

“Just because I don’t party much anymore doesn’t mean I’m not gonna jump at the chance to take you home and thank you properly for carrying my ass through high school chemistry.” His grin had returned, like a lion playing with its food.

Valerie’s back stiffened, realizing he was completely serious. Biting the inside of her cheek, she tried to think of a way to respond that wasn’t too eager, when really she was so close to bolting for the door and dragging him along with her.

When she didn’t respond right away, Billy leaned a little closer if it was even possible and met her eye with what seemed to be a more vulnerable softness. “Wanna know something?” he asked, and Valerie was nodding before he even finished the last word. “I knew who you were the second you walked in. Even looked over here a few times before you caught me. Didn’t know if you’d want to see me, and was curious to see how long you’d leave me hanging, trying to guess who you were.”

Valerie still hadn’t fully decided if she thought this was a game to him, if he was playing her and trying out new angles to work to pick up girls. But right then, with that, she didn’t even care. It didn’t matter to her if it was, just like it didn’t matter if he was still the same philandering, unattached asshole he’d been in high school. This could’ve been a trap for her from the get go and he could be gone in the morning never to be heard from again, but goddamn she wanted him. Swallowing thickly, she glanced at the door then looking back at Billy.

“My apartment’s only a couple of blocks from here,” she said, practically blurting it out like she couldn’t say it fast enough as she held his gaze. He nodded once and got to his feet, waiting for her to do the same before they headed to the exit. Billy waved to the group he’d been with, but otherwise didn’t say goodbye, too focused on relocating.

It was colder outside than Valerie remembered, a shiver running through her when they stepped onto the sidewalk. She swayed a little on her feet, taking a deep breath of cool air and wishing she hadn’t worn heels. Billy kept close, hand finding the small of her back as she swayed.

“You good?” he asked, grinning when she blinked at him.

“Yeah, I’m okay, just haven’t stood up since I started drinking, that’s all,” she responded, tilting her head up a little more to look at him. He looked beautiful in the glow of the street lamps and she easily could’ve stood there for far too long, just looking at him.

“You wanna lead the way?” he questioned, reaching into his pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. She shook her head when he offered her one, but started toward her place with Billy close on her heels.

The cold air outside did little to cool Valerie down as they walked, her cheeks still rosy from the alcohol. Now that this was actually happening, she remembered that her room wasn’t entirely unpacked yet and most of the apartment was still a mess. She was wearing floral printed, cotton panties under her tights that were far from the sexy lingerie she would’ve liked to be wearing if Billy Hargrove was about to strip her naked.

“Did you run out of things to say to me now that you’ve locked me down for the night?” Billy asked after a moment of walking in near silence.

Valerie scoffed, shaking her head. “Not really,” she said, glancing up at him to see him take a drag from his cigarette. “Just busy regretting the choice to wear heels and ugly underwear tonight.” No point in hiding it, she supposed.

The laugh he let out surprised her. It was loud and genuine, making a pair of girls walking on the opposite side of the street turn their heads to glance at them. Valerie laughed with him, hugging her arms around herself as she shivered again.

“You cold?” he questioned, his arm sliding around her shoulders easily the second she nodded. Leaning into him was easy, happily leeching some of his warmth as they turned onto her street. He smelled different than she remembered and before she could remind herself that it was weird to remember how he smelled, she was saying it.

“Did you switch colognes?” she asked, looking up at her with a creased brow.

“Yeah,” he told her, chuckling softly and not elaborating further. “You seem nervous.”

“Do I?” Valerie responded, not bothering to try and deny it. He nodded simply, grinning.

“How much further?”

“At the end of the street. Why, you getting impatient?” she shot back, watching him flick the spend bud of his cigarette into the road.

“Maybe. Should’ve kissed you earlier outside the bar, and I’m getting tired of of waiting,” he said, both of them stopping on the sidewalk.

“What stopped you earlier?” she asked, arms crossing over her chest again as she slid out from under the arm that was around her shoulders.

“The fact that you almost fell over the second we got outside,” Billy told her, still grinning as he watched her.

“Okay, that’s fair,” she said, the first bit of laughter barely having the chance to leave her before his mouth was on hers.

It surprised her more than it should have, but she was quick to relax against him, bringing an arm up to settle around his shoulders. The kiss was softer than she would’ve expected from him and one hand cupped her jaw to keep her close. Billy sighed into her mouth softly, his tongue sliding along her bottom lip and leaving her to press closer to him. Valerie forgot that she was cold and forgot that they were in the middle of the sidewalk, too consumed by the relatively simple kiss and the way his arm had looped around her waist to keep her against him.

Valerie’s eyes stayed closed for a short second after he pulled away, only to press another shorter, almost chaste kiss to her lips before squeezing her around the waist and pulling back to slip his hand into hers. Somehow, that simple gesture, even if it was to just get her moving again, was the most surprising of the night so far.

By the time they made it into the entry way of her building, away from the cold night, Billy’s patience had worn even thinner, pressing her up against the wall right inside the door. His mouth was on hers again before the door even shut behind them, his hand settling on the back of her neck as he kissed her firmly. It was easy to melt against him, gripping the fabric of his shirt in one hand as she hummed into the kiss.

“We’ve got to get up to the third floor,” she managed to say, the words half muffled by his mouth. Billy made a sound of indifference, like he wouldn’t be opposed to fucking her right there, and that idea wouldn’t be completely wasted on Valerie aside from the fact that she didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with her neighbors. His tongue slid along hers, making her knees weak as she leaned back into the wall for support.

He pulled back finally, licking his bottom lip and Valerie took the opportunity to slip away from him, taking his hand to pull him toward the stairs. They made it up a whole two flights before Billy was on her again, hands on her hips to pull her flush against him. His mouth found hers with such ease and intensity that the irritated noise she let out faded into a moan. Valerie realized as she tried to force herself to pull away, to get up that last set of stairs, that she’d never been kissed like this.

When she let her teeth catch on his bottom lip, she was rewarded with a moan from him and the sound vibrated through her, all the way to her fingertips. Valerie took the chance to pull away from him with a grin, sprinting up the steps as quickly as she dared to finally reach the door to her apartment. Fishing in the pocket of her skirt for her keys, she glanced over her shoulder to see Billy grinning widely as he followed right behind her.

Her hands were shaking as she tried to fit the key into the lock only to be distracted further by the way he swept her hair to the side to press an openmouthed kiss to the back of her neck. Cursing under her breath, she nearly fumbled her keys as she pressed her ass back toward him, loving the way his hand slid along the curve of her waist.

“Oh, thank god,” she breathed, finally turning the key in the lock to push the door open. Turning, her arm looped around his neck and let him walk her back into the dark apartment.

When the door clicked shut behind them, Billy really seemed to unleash, all hot desperate kisses and wandering hands. She arched against him when his fingers just barely swept under the hem of her sweater, already squeezing her thighs together in the hopes of alleviating the dull ache that had started there. Like he couldn’t feel enough of her, his hand slid down to squeeze her ass with a satisfied hum.

Just as her lungs were burning from the lack of oxygen, his mouth left hers to settle on her throat, and she took a deep, shaking breath as she pressed herself against him more. The blunt edge of his teeth grazed over her pulsepoint to make her gasp as she tilted her head back further.

“Where’s your room?” he asked, nosing at her jaw then pressing another firm, but gentler kiss to her mouth. She stayed there for a beat longer, enjoying the kiss before forcing herself to untangle from him.

Valerie kicked off her heels and Billy did the same with his boots, the slight height difference between them became larger. She took his hand and pulled him through the living room to reach her door. Eagerness and desperation outweighed her need to apologize for the place being such a mess, and behind the closed door of her bedroom, her confidence took off.

Biting her lip, she put a hand on Billy’s chest to push him back against the door and it surprised her how willingly he moved. Tilting her head up, she kissed him firmly again, enjoying the way his hands immediately settled on her ass again. The kiss was short lived though, impatience getting the best of her when she leaned away just enough to pull her sweater off and toss it aside carelessly.

“Holy shit, V,” he breathed, eyes adjusted well enough in the darkness to make out her topless form. The further abbreviation of her name made her grin as he brought a hand up to cup her through the material of her bra, his mouth already moving back to hers.

Valerie felt like she was vibrating, absolutely buzzing as she leaned into him, moaning when he licked into her mouth. Her hands came down to start untucking his shirt eagerly, only getting halfway done with the task before moving onto work on his belt buckle. When Billy nipped at her bottom lip hard enough to hurt, she gasped into the kiss, the sound fading to a moan.

When she finally managed to get his belt buckle open, she worked on the fly of his jeans next with shaking hands, still letting him control the kiss as he leaned back against the door. After dragging the zipper down, her hand slid into his jeans to cup him through the fabric of his underwear. Even half hard like he was now, his size was impressive, making her whine in anticipation as her mouth left his.

They blinked at each other for a short moment, breathing heavily to the point of panting in the dark room. In the glow of the street light flooding in through the window, Valerie could see her lipstick smudged along his mouth. Before he had the opportunity to pull her back to him, she sank to her knees in front of him, enjoying the pleased hum that he let out, fully aware of what she was doing.

Billy watched her closely as she bit her kiss swollen lip, looking up at him as she tugged his jeans and briefs down enough to free his cock. His hand found the back of her head, fingers tangling in her dark hair to guide her forward where he wanted her. She moved easily for him, lips already parted to take the head of his cock between them as she glanced up at him again through her lashes.

With the pair of them already so keyed up and eager, Valerie knew there was no point in teasing him. She took the rest of his length into her mouth and his hand tensed in her hair in a way that made her whine around him as she started to bob her head.

“Fucking hell, Val,” he muttered, watching as his dick disappeared between her lips and down her throat. “Been thinkin’ about this since chemistry. Used to watch you chew on your pen and pop your gum, drove me fuckin’ crazy.”

He knew exactly what she wanted to hear, spurring her on as he hit the back of her throat. She bobbed her head faster, letting her eyes close as he cursed above her again. Alternating between sucking and sliding her tongue along him, she shifted slightly on her knees, finding it hard to focus on what she was doing with the throbbing ache between her thighs.

Her hand came up to his thigh, feeling the tension and restraint in him, and she squeezed him there, hoping to encourage him further. Taking a deep breath through her nose, she relaxed her jaw to take him down her throat a little more, not caring about getting a little sloppy with it at that point. Billy seemed to take her hint and rocked his hips sharply, using the hand in her hair to keep her in place for him. Heat prickled down her spine and her lungs burned from the lack of oxygen, but the sounds of approval he let out were more than worth it.

He pulled out of her mouth a moment later and Valerie’s hand was quick to settle her hand around his length as she caught her breath. He somehow felt bigger in her hand than he had in her mouth, stroking him from base to tip, and leaning in again to flick her tongue over the head of his dick. If she didn’t feel so rushed and needy, she would’ve taken the time to appreciate his cock and his body properly, but that would have to wait.

“Come up here, angel, fuck,” he told her, swallowing thickly as he untangled his hand from her hair. Her knees shook as she got to her feet and his hands were on her quickly, pulling her body flush up against his.

When he kissed her, Valerie gasped into his mouth, so eager for him that she would barely keep still. His cock was pinned between them, pressing against her stomach as he unfastened her bra with ease. It struck her that he was still fully dressed, and she was just about to start pulling at the fabric of his shirt when his thumb dragged over the hardened peak of her nipple to make her moan loudly.

“Go get on the bed, V, let me see you,,” he said, his tone so dark and commanding that a shiver ran through her. He kissed her again, hard and quick, then let her slip away.

Billy was close behind her, tugging his shirt off and not bothering to fix his pants as he closed in on her. She had settled on the edge of the bed and leaned back, watching him approach with a self-satisfied grin. Matching her expression, his hand came up to hold her jaw briefly as he kissed her hungrily, before ducking his head to suck her nipple into his mouth.

“Oh, fuck, Billy,” she whined, already arching toward him and squeezing her thighs together. He figured out pretty quickly what she was doing, and settled a knee between her legs, earning a sound of irritation out of her that he followed with a chuckle.

“You that needy for me, sweetheart? Can’t fucking wait for me to touch you?” he questioned, mouth barely off her breath as he glanced up at her.

Not even giving her a chance to respond, he was leaning back again, both hands pushing under her skirt to tug down her tights and panties all in the same motion. He let the fabric drop to the floor, eyes sliding over her nearly naked frame with a slight smirk, like he couldn’t decide what he wanted next. Valerie realized she was nearly holding her breath, staring up at him and admiring the lines of his body.

His hand slid up the inside of her thigh, disappearing under her skirt again, and her legs parted further instinctively as she willed herself not to shake under his touch. When his fingers slid through her folds, Valerie cursed loudy, her head falling back against the mattress.

“Val, baby, you are so fucking soaked, holy shit,” Billy said, his tone practically dripping with lust by then. She could only nod silently, her hips rocking to try and meet the teasing motion of his fingers. “All this just from sucking my cock, huh?”

“ Billy! ” she groaned out insistently through clenched teeth, hating that he wasn’t giving her what she wanted. Her reaction only made his smirk grow, purposely avoiding her clit as his two fingers teased her.

“I’ve got you, don’t worry,” he told her, leaning over her enough that he could kiss her hungrily and swallowing the sound she let out when he sank two fingers into her. His hand settled on the mattress next to her head to support himself, curling his fingers inside her to see what other sounds he could get out of her.

Valerie’s arm slipped around him, her hand settling on the back of his head and letting her fingers tangle in his hair just as he’d done earlier. She was tight around his digits as they started to pump into her and he was fully entranced by the soft gasps and hums she kept loosing into his mouth.

Billy trailed hot kisses down the column of her throat, sucking and nipping gently at her skin as her breathing quickened. Her nails sank into his scalp and he hissed against her at the feeling, loving the way she couldn’t seem to keep her hips still. When he pressed his thumb to her clit to rub firm circles against the bundle of nerves, Valerie did her best to keep from crying out, already desperate for a release of the pressure that was building in her.

“That feel good, Val?” he asked, his lips leaving the side of her breast after sucking a mark into her skin. She whimpered in response, nodding quickly as her other hand gripped the sheets. “Say it, angel, let me hear you.” The motion of his fingers fucking into her had sped up, curling to try and find the spot inside her that would get her to scream for him.

Valerie huffed out an incredulous breath, absolutely hating that he wouldn’t just give her what she wanted. If his mouth wasn’t already occupied with teasing at her nipple, he would’ve chuckled, loving that streak of bossiness, near brattiness in her.

“Yeah, feels good, fuck,” she panted out, squirming as she tried to press herself closer to him in any ways she could. Her hand in his hair tightened enough to make him hiss as she dragged his mouth back up to hers.

The kiss was filthy, all tongues and teeth as his fingers fucked into her. Her hand on the back of his head slid down to grip his shoulder, whining as his name as she clenched around him. She was so wet that she could hear it as he toyed with her, the friction of the heel of his palm against her clit making her eyes roll back. Billy fit a third finger into her, pulling back just enough to watch her expression change.

“You gonna cum for me, baby girl? You want it so bad, don’t you?” he murmured to her, the words just barely audible over the sounds of their heavy breathing.

Nodding frantically, Valerie cursed, still trying to roll her hips against his hand. “Billy, please,” she whimpered, unsure what she was even pleading for by then. Her mind was clouded with lust, unable to think of anything beyond her desperation for him.

“Go ahead, V, cum all over my hand, show me how bad you want my cock,” he told her, his mouth attaching to her pulse point. Her arm tightened around his shoulders, nails sinking into his skin as she gave into her desperation.

Valerie came with another loud whine of his name, bucking against his hand for whatever friction he could get. He had pulled back to watch her and was murmuring praises to her that she could barely hear over the roaring of her heartbeat in her ears, her body tense as pleasure coursed through her. Billy’s fingers never stopped, pushing into her roughly, hungrily to see how long he could drag her orgasm out for.

God, she was stunning with the way her eyes changed as she came, the way she arched against him for as much contact as she could get. Billy was absolutely hooked, his eyes moving over her face as she came down and leaning to press light kisses to her jaw and mouth. His fingers were still pumping into her, albeit slowly, loving how drenched she was for him.

Valerie had all but melted into the mattress, her eyes closed as she tried to catch her breath, only faintly aware of Billy’s warmth above her. Her hips twitched toward his hand slightly, a quiet gasp leaving her as he continued to tease her. His fingers left her a second later as he shifted, leaning into her a little more as he kissed her.

In their new position, his dick was pressed against her stomach again, making her whine in anticipation. He smirked against her mouth, loving how reactive she was to him then he pulled back to get to his feet to shed his pants.

“You got condoms, angel?” he asked, kicking his jeans and underwear aside as he watched her.

Valerie shook her head, slipping out of her skirt finally to be just as naked as Billy was. “Just moved in, haven’t gotten any yet,” she said, pressing her thighs together as she waited for him. “I’m on the pill though, you can just pull out if you want.”

Nodding, Billy nudged her legs open with a smirk before settling over her again. With one hand beside her head to support himself over her, the other came down to guide her knee over his hip. His mouth crashed hard against hers with renewed desperation when the head of his cock slid through her folds, making them both groan.

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn sexy, Val,” he murmured into her mouth, letting his teeth catch on her bottom lip. Her hips canted up toward him eagerly as she let out another needy sound.

“Stop making me wait,” she groaned out, and he chuckled at the irritation in her tone, letting the head of his cock tease at her entrance.

“Oughta make you beg for it, sweetheart, see how long that brattiness lasts when you’re desperate for me like this,” he mused, loving the way her eyes flashed with panic at the thought. He was kidding himself if he thought he could wait any longer to be buried inside her, and without waiting for a retort from her, he finally pushed into her all at once.

The tight slide of his cock filling her made Valerie gasp, her arm immediately looping around his shoulders again as her hips angled up toward him, already wanting him deeper. In the low light of the room, he could tell that her pupils were blown and his surely were too, transfixed by how she felt around him. She could feel him through every inch of her, just enough to take the edge off her desperation as she practically purred for him. His hand was still holding her under the knee, forcing her leg a little higher and squeezing her there as he let his hips grind against her.

“Shit, that’s good, baby,” he breathed, pulling back each enough that he nearly slipped out and fucking back into her. The motion earned a loud moan from Valerie, whose hand moved to twist in his curls again. His mouth found her throat again, nipping at her skin before his tongue soothed over the spot as he set a hungry pace.

“God, Billy,” she sighed out, her tone so sweet and needy that he could’ve came right there on the spot. Valerie used the hand in his hair to guide his mouth back up to hers to kiss him desperately, letting her heel dig into the small of his back for leverage to rock against him.

His forehead pressed against hers as he caught his breath, eyes dropping slightly to watch his cock sink into her as her breasts bounced with the motion of his thrusts. Valerie’s jaw was clenched, trying to hold back the slew of whines and curses that threatened to leave her, but the second he met her eye again, that all went out the window.

“Touch yourself for me, Val, rub your clit,” he told her, his voice rough with restraint. He knew he wasn’t going to last as long for her as he’d like, but he’d be damned if he didn’t get to feel her cum around his dick. In a truly perfect world, he’d have the patience to make her cum half a dozen times before even fucking her, but desperation quickly took over.

Valerie did as she was told for once, slipping a hand between them to rub firm circles against the swollen bundle of nerves. The added stimulation made her clench around him and his hips slammed hard into hers. She was absolutely soaked, desperate for whatever else he could give her as she chased another orgasm.

He leaned away from her slightly, hovering over her to fuck into her at a different angle that made her eyes roll back. The head of his cock dragged over her g-spot with each thrust, making her toes curl as her hand continued to rub her clit. With her dark hair fanned out around her and that hazy, blissed out look in her eye, Billy wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anything so stunning.

“You gonna be a good girl and cum for me again?” he asked, bringing his free hand up to cup her breast. His thumb grazed over the hard peak of her nipple and couldn’t help but smirk at the way she trembled beneath him as she nodded. Billy’s eyes dropped to her mouth quickly and was leaning in to kiss her again before could stop himself.

Valerie came apart quickly after that, dragging her nails over his shoulder as she moaned into his mouth, practically clinging to him as if she’d float away otherwise. His brow was set in a tense line as he fucked her through her orgasm, trying to hold back his own for just a little longer. When she tugged at his bottom lip with her teeth, he swore loudly and pulled out, forehead pressing against hers as he spilled hot onto her stomach with a groan.

“Fucking hell,” he breathed, letting his lips drag along her jaw as they both panted heavily. Valerie nodded in agreement, her eyes closed as she dropped her head back against the bed. Her arm was still around his neck, fingers lightly moving over his shoulder as she waited her her body to stop buzzing.

She was still shaking slightly when he kissed her, taking his time and her fingers moved up to his hair again to keep him there. This was nice, she decided. She hadn’t expected him to kiss her like this after , but she certainly wouldn’t complain about it.

Billy’s thumb brushed along her cheek softly and pulled back, their eyes meeting for a moment in the dark. His gaze briefly dropped to her mouth when she licked her lips, then pushed off of her to get to his feet.

“You got a towel or something?” he asked, moving around in the dark to look for his pants.

“What?” she responded, her mind still foggy to the point that she hadn’t comprehended a word he’d said.

“A towel, d’you have one handy? Figured I ought to at least be a gentleman and wipe my cum off your stomach,” he said, glancing looking around as best as he could in the hopes of answering his own question.

“Oh,” Valerie laughed softly, happily admiring his frame as he stepped into his briefs. “Yeah, on the chair at my desk.” She tucked an arm behind her head comfortably, drawing a knee up to rest on foot flat against the mattress.

Billy returned with the towel, eyes flickering to her tits as he wiped up the mess he’d left on her stomach. She thanked him softly, biting her lip as she continued to watch him, not sure what to do or say at that point. Part of her had expected him to get dressed and leave without a word the second he’d pulled away, so this was all unexpected.

“Mind if I smoke?” he asked, picking up his jeans and fishing in the pockets already. Another surprise.

“Just crack the window, do it over there,” she told him, shifting to sit up more and leaning back on her hands. He scoffed softly like he was annoyed by her response, but she caught a glimpse of a grin as he turned toward the window.

When Valerie got to her feet, her knees were still shaking slightly, and she was still throbbing and slick between her thighs as she slipped on the short silk robe hung on the back of her door. Holding it closed around himself, she followed him toward the window where he had cracked it like she said. He watched her as she moved toward him, lighting the cigarette between his lips.

The street light outside her window cast a yellow glow over them as she mirrored his position, facing him as she leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the window. Their eyes met and held, both trying to get a read on the other. He looked damn near godlike in the low light, even with his hair a mess from her hands. Valerie doubted she looked even better, and she found herself chewing on the inside her of cheek before looking out the window.

“You want me to stick around?” Billy said after a minute.

Her eyebrow raised as she looked back to him, taken aback by the question. Was this part of his game, trying to gauge how clingy she was or something?

“Up to you, I guess,” she said, holding her hand out for the cigarette. That seemed to surprise him, his eyes dropping to her outstretched hand. He actually rolled his eyes, taking another drag before handing it to her.

Valerie watched him through her lashes as she lifted the cigarette to her lips, unable to read him. Her lungs burned but she managed not to cough, considering she hadn’t smoked a cigarette in years. The corner of his mouth twitched up into a grin briefly and turned his head to look out the window.

“I’ve got work at 8:30, so I’ll have to slip out early,” Billy told her after another pause, watching her take another drag from the cigarette and extending his hand to take it back.

“That’s fine,” she said, matching his cool tone and just barely letting herself smile. Her fingers brushed against his as she passed the cigarette back then she crossed her arms over her chest, shivering as a cool burst of air came through the opened window. She looked out the window again, simply to have something to look at other than him.

The interaction felt so casual, as if he hadn’t just given her the best orgasms of her life. Neither of them seemed to be able to figure the other out, when they’d been so in synch five minutes ago. Billy didn’t seem like nearly as much of an asshole now, didn’t seem like he was ready to hightail out of her place the second she was asleep. He easily could’ve left already, but he was still here and she didn’t know why he would feel the need to lie about staying, only to skip out anyway, if that was his angle. She’d seen him play plenty of girls in Hawkins though, fucking them thoroughly, then moving onto the next girl at the next party, so Valerie wasn’t even sure how much to trust him in all of this.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, taking a final puff of the cigarette before flicking the spent end out the window and closing it.

“You,” she responded, faster than she’d meant to. He actually smirked, making her roll her eyes and continuing. “You seem really different.”

Billy scoffed, tilting his head just slightly. “That a bad thing?” Valerie shook her head in response, making that barely there smile reappear on his face. “You got a preference on which side of the bed you take?”

“I sleep better on the right side,” she told him, stepping away from the wall.

SEPTEMBER 2, 1989

Waking up alone the next morning, Billy even being there at all felt like a dream. She didn’t know what time he’d left, but she’d woken up close to dawn to feel his arm around her and his leg tangled with hers.

Valerie stayed in bed for a while, replaying the night in her head with a sleepy, satisfied smile. Part of her wished she’d given him her number, but at least now she wouldn’t spend god knows how long waiting by the phone, hoping he’d call. She felt good, proud of herself even.

When she got up, she noticed the piece of paper on her nightstand.

“It was good to see you. Call me. 923-0427.”

#billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #billy hargrove x ofc #billy hargrove x oc

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kelyon · 3 years

Text

Golden Rings 23: A Hat

The Storybrooke sequel to Golden Cuffs

Jefferson tries to get help

Read on AO3

Inside a cramped little cottage in a cramped little town in the mountains of a flat planet that flies through space on the back of four elephants on top of a turtle, he is having dinner with his family.

Technically, they are Leo’s family, but technicalities have never troubled him. These people have welcomed him into their lives. This smoke-filled, boisterous cottage is more home to him than the solemn rock quarry where Jefferson spent the first few miserable decades of his life.

The meal is mostly over, but everyone lingers over pudding and conversation and beer. A few of his sisters-in-law have gathered up the dishes and are headed back to the kitchen for the washing up.

His daughter sits on his lap. She is almost too big for the gesture and maybe that’s why she wants it so much. It’s certainly why he lets her do it. How much longer will he have with his little girl? Even if they have escaped from the Queen’s curse, they cannot escape time. There will only be a few more years before Grace is more a woman than a baby. She’ll be as pretty as her mother, and just as smart, winding her way through the hearts of everyone who meets her.

But for now, his girl sits on his lap and listens to her family. Beside him, Leo squeezes his arm.

She leans into him. “No matter where we go, it’s never better than being home.”

He smiles at her, his wife, his life. Her face is ruddy from drink and smoke. Her blonde hair curls in the heat, teasing wisps escape from her bun. Her plump curves fill out her dress like bursting sausage. She has a shine of bacon grease around her mouth and a touch of beer foam on the tip of her nose. In all the lands in all the worlds, he has never seen anyone more beautiful.

Somewhere down the table, a baby cries. One of his many sisters-in-law is trying to soothe one of Grace’s many cousins, without much success. The infant has been fussing all night, and now the poor thing’s wails have drowned out the riotous conversation.

“‘Ere now!” Leona’s mother calls down from the head of the table. “Are you going to help that poor babby or do I ‘ave to?”

His sister-in-law--a washed out, nervous looking woman whose name no one can remember--looks gratefully up at Nanny Ogg. “Can you?”

Nanny Ogg snorts. This grande dame--which she translates as “big woman”--is the matriarch of the Ogg clan and the second-most powerful witch in the Ramptops Mountains, though she doesn’t try as hard. She’s had five husbands (and married three of them), fifteen children, and more grandchildren and great-grandchildren than anyone in Lancre can count.

The baby is passed from hand to hand down the table, squalling all the way. When it finally gets to the head of the table, it is placed into the very solid arms of a round old woman dressed in black. She has a pipe, a pint, and a black pointy hat. (There’s nothing magic about a pointy hat, except that it says that the person underneath it is a witch.) She also has lively dark eyes--like Leo’s, like Grace’s--and the widest grin most people have ever seen.

The current occupant of the old woman’s lap is a mangy ball of fur and claws named Greebo. Though known to pick fights with bears (and not lose), he’s nothing but an old softy to Nanny Ogg. Still, the cat is smart enough to know that he is always second place to any child. As soon as the baby is in the witch’s arms, he scampers out of the way.

Jefferson’s life would have been hell if Nanny Ogg hadn’t given him her approval to marry Leo. They would have married anyway--Leo wouldn’t have let anything stop them--but coming home like this would have been… difficult. There are a dozen tiny ways an Ogg can tell you they don’t like you--and a hundred large and painful ones. But Nanny Ogg’s welcoming nature--and Jefferson’s endless potential to bring her presents from far-off lands--had ensured that they were welcome any time.

Within a minute of entering Nanny Ogg’s embrace, the screaming baby quiets. Within another minute, it sleeps peacefully, despite the raucous conversation around the table.

Perched on his knees, Grace looks curious. “Was that magic, Gran?”

“Coo-ee, no, my duck!” Nanny Ogg chuckles. “The day I needs magic to calm a babe is the day you lot can put me in the ground!”

“But you did it so fast!” Grace persists.

“Coz I been doing it so long,” Nanny Ogg explains. “Ever since your Uncle Jason was a wee thing! There’s a knack to it, but it ain’t magic.”

Grace ponders this for a moment. Children are allowed to speak freely around Nanny Ogg’s table--provided they keep the conversation interesting. “Papa knows a man who does magic.”

Jefferson thinks about explaining, but clearly this is a private conversation.

Nanny Ogg nods sagely. “I imagine your dad knows all kinds of people, the work he does.”

“He was a funny little man,” Grace says. “He has a funny voice and he’s all green.”

“Takes all sorts, luv. We can’t help the way we’re made.”

“He gave me a yellow dress, to match Mama’s pink one. He pulled it out of the air! We were there for--why were we there, Papa?”

“A wedding,” Jefferson answers. “The Dark One and Belle wanted us to be there for their wedding.”

“It was a lovely day,” Leo smiles at him while stroking their daughter’s hair. “Do you remember dancing in that big ballroom, Grace? Remember how he made the instruments play themselves?”

Nanny Ogg snorts. “Sounds like a show-off, if you ask me.”

“Oh he is,” Jefferson agrees. “I don’t know if you’d like him, and Mistress Weatherwax would hate him.”

“Well, there’s not many I don’t like, and there’s not many Esme Weatherwax don’t hate, at least at first.”

They laugh at that, as they laugh at everything. The conversation moves on to other topics. Later the lot of them move away from the table and into the parlor. Around a fire and more beer, Nanny Ogg brings out her banjo, but the evening still manages to end happily.

He puts Grace to bed in a room with her cousins, a group of girls near her age. He kisses her and makes sure she has her stuffed rabbit. Then he goes up to the bedroom where Leo is waiting.

His wife is a dream, all satiny pink. All soft and warm and round. Like a sunset cloud with grasping arms. Like candy floss with a libido. She is everything. All the happiness he has now is because of her. This family, this life, their daughter. Everything in his past led to her, everything in the present comes from her, everything in the future will be theirs together.

They make love, full of food and clumsy with drink. Their lips are loose and sloppy. They giggle and try to stay quiet in this crowded house. Their hands know their bodies. They know how to pleasure each other. They know. They feel. They love. They delight in each other and fall asleep in each other’s arms.

When Jefferson wakes up, everything is gone.

****

For the ten thousand, three hundred ninetieth time, Jefferson woke up alone. In a giant, empty bed, inside a giant, empty house. He woke up, like he always did, with a gnawing ache in his chest and a burning desire for nothing more than to go back to sleep. Back to his dream. His best dreams were always about them. Leo. Grace. Home.

Sitting up in bed, Jefferson covered his face with his hands and let a dry sob rack through him. Tears would come later. First sob of the morning was always dry.

“Morning” was not the right word. It was a gray spring afternoon, more or less identical to every other gray afternoon he’d woken up in since he was brought over to this world. Over the years--over so many years--he had gotten in the habit of starting his day when most people in Storybrooke began to end theirs. The only reason he woke up at all was to get a chance to see his daughter walk home from school.

The telescope was in the office, what he tended to think of as the hat room. This side of the massive house faced Main Street. He could see quite a lot--the diner, the Sheriff’s Station, a few important houses. And he had learned quite a lot, just by looking at all these people living their lives.

Nothing changed in Storybrooke. Children didn’t get older. The old and sick never died. People worked the same jobs no matter how much they hated them. There was a girl he saw walking to and from the diner who had been nine months pregnant for twenty-eight years. Everyone was miserable, alone and unloved in one way or another, but they all carried on with what they thought were their lives.

Until the day a yellow bug drove into town.

Looking through the telescope, Jefferson trained his eyes on a lime green winter coat. The coat was bouncing over the shoulders of a young girl as she hopped, skipped and jumped her way around the sidewalk. His throat tightened, as it did every time he saw her. In the lens of the telescope, she looked close enough to reach out and touch.

Grace was walking with another girl--Jefferson didn’t know her name. She was poor, from Old Town. Her father was gone and her mother worked long hours for low pay. Girls like that didn’t get their accomplishments written up about in the newspaper the way Grace did every time she won the Science Fair. Until a few months ago, Grace had never spoken to this girl. Both of them had walked the same path from the school to the abandoned library, twenty feet apart, every day for twenty-eight years, without ever interacting with each other.

Until the day Sheriff Swan started a youth outreach campaign, and made a point to talk about how much safer kids were if they used the buddy system when they didn’t have an adult around.

Then Grace had looked up from her routine, and she had seen the other girl looking back. Both of them needed someone to walk with. Both of them were looking for a friend. Both of them found one. It was a little thing, but it was a change.

He watched them walk from the library to the house in New Town where Tim and Mia Lewis lived. The people Grace thought were her parents. Every once in a while, they ran an ad in the Storybrooke Daily Mirror--all three of them with big smiles, the adults offering their services in insurance and real estate.

The lights were off inside the house, so he couldn’t see into the kitchen. He couldn’t see what healthy snacks Mia had made for the girls today. He couldn’t see what game they played to unwind for a bit before Mia made sure they both started their homework. A few hours later, the other girl’s mother would stop by after her shift at Granny’s. He never knew if she thanked Mia for watching her daughter. Maybe it was just understood. Maybe Mia said she was just doing what Sheriff Swan advised, watching out for children who might otherwise get into trouble, being alone and unsupervised.

Once Grace was out of his sight, Jefferson moved the telescope to look around town. Not too many changes today. Archie Hopper was walking his dalmatian. Marco the handyman was making another trip to the hardware store. The stranger on the motorcycle idled outside Marine Automotive; he seemed to be watching Marco. Mrs. Gold was strutting away from the pawn shop with her head held high.

He watched her, this woman who used to be Belle. It looked like she was going towards City Hall. Curious. Was she applying for a permit? Was there some licence she needed to renew? His fingers itched to pick up the phone and call the Dark One about what he had seen. He was the only other human being in town, the only person who knew the truth about anything. It was just the Dark One, Jefferson, and Queen Regina.

But he couldn’t bother him too much. They couldn’t raise any more suspicion than they already had with their one secret meeting in the woods. The Dark One was still trying to maintain his cover as “Mr. Gold.” Besides, what difference could it make that Belle was running an errand to City Hall?

With a sigh, Jefferson moved away from the telescope. He’d been awake for more than an hour, it was time to put on pants.

In no time at all, he had showered, dressed, and chugged down a protein shake. Most days, it was hard for him to summon up the will to cook or eat. He kept his body going with prepackaged meal replacements. They tasted like crap, but at least he didn’t have to think about them. He left cooking for people who thought they had something to live for.

He made his way to the front doors. The house had a wide driveway that ran under a large overhang. Whenever visitors came, they could disembark from the vehicles and go into the house without the hazards of rain or snow.

If he ever had visitors.

At the moment, and for the past twenty-eight years, all he had was the most recent copy of the Storybrooke Daily Mirror. It wasn’t a bastion of hard-hitting journalism, but for a long time it had been the only way he could know anything about the town he spent so much time looking at. The newspaper had given him names to put to the faces--Mayor Mills, Mr. Gold, Sheriff Humbert, and later Sheriff Swan. It had been a lifeline, and he still clung to it. For nearly three decades, the dates on the front page had been the only changes he had seen anywhere in this town.

Today’s date was April 2nd, 2012. The headline was about the continued search for a missing person. Kathryn Nolan, a paralegal working at the firm of Duke & Duke, had been missing for more than a month. There had been sightings of a woman matching her description in various parts of Storybrooke, but by the time the police arrived, all traces of her had gone. Sheriff Swan encouraged anyone with any information regarding Mrs. Nolan’s whereabouts to call the station.

On the next page, there was an editorial decrying the lack of effort put forth by Kathryn’s husband, David Nolan, to aid in the search. Sydney Glass stopped just short of outright accusing Mr. Nolan of gross negligence or foul play. He only noted the amount of time Mr. Nolan spent with the schoolteacher, Miss Blanchard. The article concluded with speculation that perhaps Mrs. Nolan was not missing at all, but had run away from a terminally unhappy home.

After finishing the paper, he put it away in the office closet and went back to the telescope. The lights were on in the house where Grace lived. The other girl had been picked up. Tim Lewis was home from work. The three of them were making dinner together. Mia was stirring a pot of chili and Tim was taking a bag of corn out of the freezer.

“She doesn’t like corn, guys,” Jefferson muttered to himself. “She won’t eat the chili if you put corn in it. You’ve been taking care of her for twenty-eight years and you’ve never figured that out.”

He shook his head and looked away. Sometimes it was maddening to watch the town like this, to see these people make the same mistakes, over and over. Emma Swan had made some changes, but there were still so many ways to be unhappy.

He watched dinner in the Lewis household. He watched Grace carefully pick out all the corn from her bowl of chili and set it into her paper napkin. He watched Mia shake her head at his daughter. He watched Tim lecture her about wasting food. He watched Grace scowl as she picked up the napkin and dumped the offending corn kernels back into the chili. She ate, but she looked like she was going to vomit.

“I’m sorry, love,” he whispered. He had to get to her, somehow. He had to let her know that he was her father. He had to get her back to Leo.

After dinner, the family watched TV. Grace sat on a couch between Tim and Mia, and flickering light bathed over all of them. They weren’t bad people, her fake-parents. They did love her, and they did the best they could to raise her to be healthy and successful in this world. Whoever Tim and Mia had been before, they were victims of the curse too. They had never meant to steal another couple’s daughter.

He had to put this right. He had to end this curse. Jefferson didn’t have much power, but he would do anything to put his family back together.

He moved the telescope away from Grace. After a brief search, he found the big pink house in Old Town where the Dark One lived. The lights were on, but no one was visible through the windows. If he called on the phone, the Dark One would tell him to be patient. The Savior would break the curse in due time.

But Jefferson had already waited too long.

Scanning through town, he set his sights on the Sheriff’s station. Storybrooke was peaceful enough that most of the cops could hang up their guns in time for dinner. They were all long gone by now. Even Sheriff Swan was packing up and getting ready to go home for the night.

Perfect.

Picking up the sleek, silver cordless phone, Jefferson punched in the numbers he had seen in the newspaper. Through the telescope, he could see Emma Swan hear the phone ringing. She slumped and grimaced in the way of everyone being clawed back into a job they thought was done for the day. Then she straightened up, and picked up the receiver on her desk.

“Sheriff’s station, this is Emma.”

Jefferson cleared his throat. “Yeah, is this the number to call if somebody saw Kathryn Nolan?”

Perking up, Emma fumbled on her desk for a pen and paper. “It sure is. Who am I talking to?”

That question was too complicated to get into. “Yeah, I don’t know for sure if it was Kathryn Nolan, but it looked like a woman in her mid-thirties, caucasian, looked kinda haggard. I, uh, I tried to talk to her, but she just kept walking through the woods.”

“Which woods are those? Where was this?”

“Oh, yeah, it was the north woods. You ever been up on Angus Drive?”

“Can’t say that I have. Still kind of new to the area.”

“Yeah, well that’s where she was. About ten minutes ago I saw her, she was walking towards town. Like I said, I tried to get her attention, but she didn’t listen. I didn’t wanna try to chase after her. Might scare her, you know. Make things worse.”

“Right, right,” Emma said. “So, north woods, Angus Drive, ten minutes ago. And what was your name?”

Jefferson hung up the phone. Then he got his coat and a scarf. It was time to go for a walk.

****

There were several cars in the massive garage of the house where Jefferson had been a prisoner. For the first twenty-eight years, he hadn’t been able to open the garage door to get them on the road. Even after Emma had rolled in, the cars were still useless. None of them had gasoline.

So Jefferson walked. He had walked along the highway and through the woods and over the town line as far as he could before something terrible happened. He walked into town sometimes, trying to find a way out. When he’d noticed “Mr. Gold” acting strangely, he had walked to the pawn shop.

At this point, he knew the town better than anyone else. Who knows the shape of a cage better than the captive inside? He knew the borders and boundaries, especially the area around the house. He knew where the road made a wicked hairpin turn, where someone who was still kind of new to the area wouldn’t know what was coming and could be caught off guard.

The yellow Volkswagen had better brakes than he thought--Emma stopped short of actually hitting him when he emerged from the woods onto the road in front of her. He’d been willing to take the hit, half-curious to see if the curse would let any injury last longer than a week or so.

Emma’s quick driving stopped him from actually getting hurt, but the collision was close enough that he could fall to the ground in a convincing show. She stopped the car and got out when she saw him.

“Oh my God, are you okay?”

On the gravel shoulder of the highway, Jefferson groaned and clutched his leg.

“Sir? Sir, can you talk? I’m Emma Swan, do I need to call for EMTs?”

“No,” Jefferson gritted his teeth, swallowed the imaginary pain. “No, I live around here. I’ll be fine. Can you just get me back to my house?”

For just a moment, she hesitated. “Uh, sure. Yeah, let’s get you inside, at least.”

She helped him up and into the passenger seat of the bug. Then she began to drive.

“So where do you live, Mr…?”

“Angus Drive.” He answered only the question she had said out loud. “It’s up ahead.”

“Funny.” Now that the moment of panic had passed, Emma seemed less willing to accept half-answers. “I just got a call about that address. A man said he saw a missing person out this way. Maybe you saw her when you were out. A blonde woman in her mid-thirties?”

He shook his head. “That sounds like your description, Sheriff.”

“First, I’m not in my mid-thirties. Second, how did you know I’m the Sheriff?”

“I read the paper. And who else would be getting a call about a missing person? And, you’ve got your badge on your hip.”

She frowned. “Guess that all checks out. Yeah, I’m Sheriff Swan. What’s your name?”

Again, Jefferson didn’t answer. “This is the house on the right.”

“A house?” Emma said as she parked under the awning. “This looks more like a hotel! Do you have a big family or something?”

Jefferson opened the door, but made sure to wait for her to help him out of the car. “No,” he said. “It’s just me.”

“The sign on the mailbox says Dogdson.”

“Sure does.”

Leaning on Emma, Jefferson pretended to hobble up the stairs to get into the front door. The curse had never given him a key to this house, so he always left it unlocked. Someday, when the curse was broken, he would find a way to lock the door behind him and walk away a free man. He would take Grace and walk all the way to the Discworld if he had to.

“Where should I put you?” Emma asked once they were in the foyer.

“Closest living room is over there.”

She set him up on one of the white leather couches with his “bad” leg propped up on the arm. “Want me to take a look at it?”

“No, no, I’ll be fine. Listen, I’m kind of an amateur cartographer. Upstairs, I’ve got maps for all of these woods. They could be useful to you, since you don’t know the area well.”

Hands on her hips, Emma Swan looked down at him. She looked shrewd, suspicious. Kind of like Leo, only skinny. “I never told you I don’t know the area.”

Jefferson grinned. What was the old saying about honesty? Better to tell the truth because then you don’t have to keep track of your lies? “I guess you didn’t.”

“The only person I told that to lately was a man on the phone who also didn’t tell me his name.” Emma sat down on the coffee table in front of the couch so they were on the same level. “Did you actually see Kathryn Nolan around here?”

He didn’t stop grinning. “No.”

“And your leg isn’t hurt at all.”

It wasn’t a question, but he still answered. “No.”

“Can you give me a single good reason why I shouldn’t arrest you on the very serious charge of Wasting the Sheriff’s Time?”

Jefferson sat up. “I do need your help,” he said. “But I thought if I told you what was going on, you would think I was crazy.”

Emma didn’t blink at that. “People who might be crazy need just as much help as people who might be sane. Let’s start from the beginning: Tell me your name.”

“Jefferson,” he answered immediately.

“Jefferson,” she repeated. “Is that a first name or a last name?”

“First.”

“And the last name?”

He didn’t really have one. Few people in the old world did. “Ogg,” he answered.

It was the name he went by on worlds where last names were common. Leo’s name. He was part of a proud tradition of men becoming Mr. Ogg when they married an Ogg woman.

Emma looked him in the eyes, long and hard. “Jefferson Ogg,” she said slowly. “That’s… such a weird name, I don’t think you made it up.”

“I didn’t,” he said.

“Uh-huh,” she said. “And what do you need help with, Jefferson Ogg?”

“I…” Gods, how could he even start? He would just have to show her. “It’s upstairs.”

She gave him another look, not speaking. Then she pulled a cell phone out of her pocket and pressed some buttons.

“Texting on the job?”

“I left my walkie-talkie in the car.” She put her phone away. “Just letting my roommate know where I am and to call the dispatch office if she doesn’t hear from me in 10 minutes.”

That was almost funny, that she thought he was dangerous. As if the most dangerous person in Storybrooke wasn’t signing Sheriff Swan’s paychecks.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he said.

****

It was the first time anyone other than him had set foot in the office. He wondered what Emma made of the room. All Jefferson ever cared about was the telescope and the walk-in closet where he stored the newspapers. Neither of those things drew Emma’s focus.

“That’s a lot of top hats,” she said as she stood in front of the lit-up shelf. There were rows of them, all made of an endless supply of black felt. “You part of a show choir or something?”

“No.” He shut the door behind them, locked it. “The hats… are actually what I need your help with.” He pulled out some of the felt, some sewing needles and a pair of scissors. He tossed them all onto the table in front of her. “I need you to make one.”

Now the expression on Emma’s face was what ‘suspicious’ wanted to be when it grew up. “You think I’m a hatter?”

He stood behind her, nudging her into a chair in front of the raw materials. “I think you can do extraordinary things, Emma. I think you can do exactly what I need you to. I think you can save me.”

Her expression morphed from disbelief to exhaustion. “No, not you too. Have you been talking to Henry? What is it with this town and people thinking I can save them?”

“Because you can!” He put his hands on either side of the chair and pushed her to the table. Then he leaned over her to keep her from getting up. “You are a special person, Emma. You made the changes start, you can make everything good again.”

“Bring back the happy endings, is that what you want from me?”

She was angry. She meant the remark to be flippant. But she was so right it brought tears to his eyes.

“Yes,” Jefferson whispered. “Yes, that’s all I want. The Dark One says it’s your destiny, that you have already brought--”

“Wait, who?”

“The Dark One,” he said. “Rumpelstiltskin, he--”

“Will you listen to yourself?” Emma pushed herself up away from the table and stood up to confront him. “Do you think you’ve had a conversation with Rumpelstiltskin? What, do you think Regina is the Evil Queen too?”

“Yes!” he shouted. He picked the felt up off the table and shook the fabric in her face. “You have all the pieces, Emma! Why can’t you put them together?”

“Because this is the real world!” she shouted back.

“Every world is real!”

She made for the door. The lock kept her busy for just enough time that Jefferson was able to catch up with her. Gently, he pulled her away from the door and stood in front of it. Just being taller than her was enough to make him look like a threat.

“You don’t understand,” he tried to keep his voice from breaking. “There are so many worlds out there. I’ve been to most of them. The Dark One gave me a hat that I can use to travel from world to world. I could use it to get out of here, but I don’t have it anymore!”

Emma reached for her phone. He grabbed her wrist and pulled the device out of her hand.

“It needs magic,” he explained, as calmly as he could. “I’ve made a hundred hats, but they’re just hats, no good to anyone. I need magic. You have magic. You brought magic to Storybrooke the day you came here.”

She frowned at the phone in his hand and stepped back. “There was nothing different about the day I came here.”

“You’re right.” Keeping her in his sights, he stepped away from the office door and toward the closet. “It was the day after you arrived, the day after you broke the sign. October 24th, 2011. That was the day the clock on the library started to tick.”

Emma just gaped at him. “How could you remember that?”

“It was the most important day in the history of this town. The first real day to happen in twenty-eight years.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Can I show you?” he asked. “I’ll even give you your phone back, so you can tell Mary Margaret you’re okay. But I just need you to promise that you’ll hear me out.”

She glared and held out her hand. “You are damn lucky you don’t have a gun right now.”

He watched her press the buttons, then put her phone back in her pocket.

“You bought yourself another ten minutes because I don’t feel like filling out the paperwork necessary to arrest you.”

Jefferson went to the closet. “It’s in here,” he said. “All the evidence I have is in here.”

She put her hands on her hips, squared her shoulders. “Go get it then.”

Right, Sheriff Swan wasn’t going to be the first one to go through an unknown door in the house of an obvious lunatic. Jefferson opened it, and showed her the newspapers. Twenty-eight stacks and counting. Each stack was made of twelve bundles, reaching to the ceiling. Three hundred and forty one bundles. The whole of the curse, contained in this room.

“I saved them all,” he said. “Twenty-eight years’ worth.”

“So you’ve been saving newspapers since you were, what, five?”

“Since the day I came to this town,” he answered. “Since the day anyone came to this town.” Kneeling on the ground, he moved the smallest pile and pulled out the smallest bundle. “Do you want to know what day that was, Emma?”

She didn’t answer, but he took the paper out from the bottom of the bundle and held it up in front of her.

“Go on,” he growled. “Read it.”

“Uh, it says that Mayor Mills announced a new committee to--”

“Read the date!” he snapped.

Jaw clenched, Emma yanked the paper out of his hands and looked at the top. She didn’t read it out loud, but he saw her eyebrows furrow.

“That’s… my birthday,” she whispered. “Like, that was the day I was born.”

“October 23rd, 1983,” he said. “That was the day the curse started. The day you were born was the day the Evil Queen cursed us all to live in a world without magic.”

“That’s--”

“There was no time.” He didn’t let her speak. “Nothing changed, nothing happened. We were frozen. Most of them didn’t notice, but I did. I remembered, I…” He couldn’t go on. “I thought I was crazy. I thought nothing I knew was real. I thought I had lost everything. But you… You’re the Savior. You can bring it back.”

Emma shook her head and looked down at the newspaper again. “Even if all this is true, why am I the one who has to--wait a minute!” She pointed at the paper, at a picture of the mayor. “This is a crock of shit! That’s Regina! Regina wasn’t mayor on the day I was born!” She flipped through the other pages. “Yeah, look at this. Sydney looks the same in this picture as he does today. Look at the school news, I’ve seen these kids!”

“I told you, time was frozen.”

“Or you put a fake date on an old paper just to mess with me!” She kept looking at the newspaper, seeing but not understanding. “Yeah, this ad here, this is Tim Lewis. He gave me a discount on my car insurance. His daughter, Paige? She looks exactly like she does in this ad. Pretty sure she’s eleven, not thirty-nine.”

Jefferson ripped the paper out of Emma’s hands. “She is not his daughter!” He snarled. “Will you listen to me? That girl’s name is Grace. She is eleven. She has been eleven for twenty-eight years!”

“I--” Emma put her hands up and let out a slow breath. “I don’t think either one of us is going to convince the other.”

“I don’t care if you believe me, I just need you to make a gods-damned hat!”

To Jefferson’s shock, Emma seemed ready to do what he asked, maybe in the name of de-escalating the situation. She went back to the table, slowly sat down, and picked up the felt. “You need this so you can go back to Fairytale Land?”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t care about that world anymore. I need to go back to the Discworld.”

Emma squinted as she tried to thread a needle. “Discworld? I’ve heard of those books. They’re supposed to be funny, right?”

Jefferson didn’t smile. “It’s a real place.”

Looking up, Emma opened her mouth, and then closed it. “Sure.” She began to half-heartedly jam the needle between two pieces of felt.

He collapsed into a chair by the telescope. Gods, was she really doing this? Jefferson only knew enough about magic to know that he was better off not playing with it. But if the Dark One was right, then Emma Swan wouldn’t be able to stop herself from using magic. She would do it naturally, maybe accidentally. It wouldn’t matter if the hat looked awful. All it had to do was work.

“My wife is from there,” he offered as a way to make conversation.

Emma didn’t look up from the stitches. “From Discworld? Does that make her a witch or something?”

He shook his head. “Her mother is. I guess she could be too, if she wanted. Most of the time witchcraft is just knowing something other people don’t know.”

“Like how to make a hat?” Emma looked at him through a tube of felt. “It’s been a long time since my last Home Ec class. This is not going to be pretty.”

“It just needs to work,” he muttered. “Just… get it to work.”

Sighing, Emma pulled out her phone again.

“Has she even answered you?” he asked. “Maybe she’s off somewhere screwing David Nolan.”

A glare. “I’m doing you a favor by working on this hat. So maybe you could do me a favor and not say rude things about my friends.”

“I got you here by talking about Kathryn Nolan. Do you actually care about her?”

Emma kept her eyes on her work. “She’s a person. I care about people. She could be lost in the woods, disoriented and hungry. Of course I want to find her.”

“Do you think she’s still alive?”

“I have to hope so.” She cut one of the threads. “We haven’t found a body, or even body parts. If some monster was out there cutting out hearts and putting them in jewelry boxes, at least then there’d be some evidence.” She gave him a sideways glance. “Do you care about Kathryn Nolan? Or do you think she’s just a fairytale character?”

“I care about her because she’s a fairytale character,” Jefferson said. “Her name was Princess Abigail. She was the daughter of King Midas. She gave me a lot of gold just for trying to find a way to reverse the effects of her father’s… gift.”

Emma nodded, clearly humoring him. “I’d heard that King Midas had a daughter. I didn’t know her name was Abigail. Doesn’t sound Greek, but what do I know?” She was sewing the brim on the hat, after that it would be finished.

Jefferson stood up. His feet moved on a schedule that was bigger than Emma Swan. He looked through the telescope. It was nine-thirty. Bedtime.

“Do you want to see her?” he whispered to Emma.

“Kathryn?”

“My daughter.”

They were putting her to bed, Tim and Mia both. She was almost too big for the gesture, but maybe that was why she wanted it so much. Jefferson felt Emma’s presence beside him, and he stepped away from the telescope.

“They never remember to give her the stuffed rabbit,” he said. “That’s the only one that keeps her from having nightmares.”

“Oh, that’s Paige,” Emma said. She looked up from the window. “You… have a telescope pointed at the bedroom of an eleven year old girl.”

“She’s my daughter,” Jefferson repeated. “I’ve lost her mother. Grace doesn’t know who I am. I need to keep an eye on her.”

Emma stayed between Jefferson and the telescope. “Is it because Paige is adopted? Are you her birth father or something?”

He didn’t know whether to scream or cry, so he laughed. Emma kept talking.

“It’s no shame if that’s the case. Believe me, I know how mixed-up it can be to have a kid that’s yours but isn’t yours.”

“Shut up,” Jefferson said through gritted teeth. “Grace is mine. Mine and my wife’s.”

“You said you lost your wife…”

“Yes! And I’ll only find her again once I have a hat that works!” He almost grabbed her by the shoulders, but she was too fast. She made it back to the table and kept it as a barrier between them.

“Enough!” Emma said. She picked up the hat and tossed it over to him. “This is the last of my goodwill, understand? I’m going to leave now. You’re gonna let me out of this room and out of this house. I’m gonna call Tim and tell him to buy his daughter some blackout curtains. If I ever catch wind of you snooping around little girls again, I will personally make sure you rot in jail.”

Jefferson looked down at the crumpled felt in his hands. It was only a hat by the most generous definition. But maybe it would be enough.

When he looked up, Emma was gone. From outside, he heard the rumble of a car engine starting up. As she drove away, the sound grew fainter. He still held the hat in his hands.

It didn’t feel magical. His old hat had a certain… quality. There was an aura about it, not quite tangible. But there was a feeling he got when he looked at his hat. A feeling of… possibility. Like there was so much more to it than what met the eye. There was none of that in the hat Emma had made.

Maybe magic was different here. Maybe there was a way. Some way. He had to try. He would never know if he didn’t try.

He closed his eyes and took a breath. “Please.” With all his heart, he prayed to any power that was listening.

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the hat to the ground, as he had done a thousand different times in a hundred different worlds. The hat spun and he waited for it to keep spinning, waited for it to grow larger and disappear into a whirlpool of purple smoke. He waited for the hole in the whirlpool, the portal that could take him anywhere.

But the hat barely made a full rotation before it stopped spinning. It sat on the ground, unmoving, unmagical.

Jefferson stared at it, until his vision blurred with tears. Then he began to laugh.

Of course it didn’t work! Why would anything work in this world? Of course there was no escape! Of course he was going to die in this world! Or worse--he would live forever in a world without time and he’d never see Leona again.

He sobbed. His legs gave out and sent him careening to the floor. He lay face down on the patterned carpet, stared at Emma Swan’s misshapen hat, and wept like a child.

****

Later--an hour? A year? Did it make a difference?--when couldn’t cry anymore, Jefferson pulled himself off the floor. He made it all the way to the chair before he collapsed again and hung his head in his hands.

It hadn’t worked. The Savior hadn’t worked. The side of goodness hadn’t worked. Well, Jefferson was never one to get too hung up about paltry matters like good and evil.

Slowly wheeling the office chair over to the desk, Jefferson fumbled for the silver telephone. He pushed in numbers he knew by heart, numbers he had wanted to call a dozen times in the past month, but never had. Not until now.

He tried to breathe, as the phone rang. But then he stopped when he heard it pick up. A woman’s voice. Belle’s voice.

“Mr. Gold’s residence. Who is calling?”

Jefferson didn’t speak. He didn’t breathe. Mrs. Gold knew that he had slept with her husband. He couldn’t ask her to put him on the phone. He couldn’t even let her know who he was.

He hung up.

With another deep breath, he pulled a book with yellow pages out from a shelf above the desk. He flipped through the thin paper, until he found the name and number he was looking for.

He dialed slowly, taking a breath between each number. He couldn’t sound like he was upset. He couldn’t show any weakness in front of her.

This was a bad idea. This was the worst idea he could have ever come up with. The last time he’d worked with this woman he had watched her murder a helpless servant once she was no longer useful. How could he know that she wouldn’t do the same to him?

Maybe by the time he wasn’t useful, he would already be in the Discworld.

He needed magic. He needed to get out. He needed power. So he called the most powerful person in town.

Regina picked up on the third ring. “Who exactly do you think you are to be calling my home at this time of night?”

“Your Majesty,” he said calmly. “This is Jefferson the realm-jumper. I’d like to offer my services.”

#golden rings #rumbelle #rumbelle fic #jefferson #hat trick

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jobean12-blog · 4 years

Text

Top Shelf: Chapter 12-Bookaholics

Pairing: Bucky x reader (Bookshop/Bartender AU)

Word Count: 1,515

Summary: You and Bucky try to get the ball rolling and explain your idea to Sam and Nat all while having a little fun :)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! Happy Monday! Thank you for all your continued amazingness! Love you all! If anyone hasn’t been to the High Line you can check out the website here It’s one of my favorite places in the city and really is that beautiful! I like taking you on a little tour of NYC through this story, it helps with how badly I miss my city (we are doing well though so one thing at a time right!) All the pictures I use in my moodboards are real photos of these places. Here is the link for attaboy again in case you want to see that too. Thank you all for reading! Much love to you always ❤❤❤

Warnings: Fluff, some super light smut (mostly implied), flirting, romantic fluff :)

Previous Chapters

Chapter 1: Enchantment

Chapter 2: Cookie Crumble

Chapter 3: Sweet Anticipation

Chapter 4: Read Between the Limes

Chapter 5: Secrets on the Shelf

Chapter 6: Love Between the Covers *

Chapter 7: Love Lines & Soul Finds

Chapter 8: Drunk in Love *

Chapter 9: Pour it onto the Page

Chapter 10: Recipe for Love *

Chapter 11: The Pages in Between

When you awake the next morning it’s to the sound of more rain hitting the sky light, Bucky’s even breathing warm against your neck. You slowly shift and stretch to grab your phone. Seeing that it’s not even 6am you unlock the device and lazily search through your Pinterest, saving recipes that look worth trying.

“Looking up some new stuff to bake, sweetheart?” His voice is low and raspy from sleep and you love the sound, turning and smiling as he rubs his eyes. “I hope I didn’t wake you?” He curls his arms around your middle and pulls you against his chest, “nope.” You rest your head under his chin, closing your eyes and listening to the rain.

“How about we just stay up here forever. Forget work, read books, eat pizza…” You continue, your breath hitching as Bucky’s hand creeps under your shirt. “Listen to the rain…Bucky.” He rolls on top of you, gently pulling your shirt above your head. “What else?” he asks between kisses. “This. Lots and lots of this,” you whisper, shimming out of your shorts.

“How long do we have before you have to leave for work?” His fingers inch below the waistband of your underwear, easily slipping inside you. “Enough time,” is the last thing you say before his lips capture yours, swallowing your moans.

You find if hard to concentrate at work, every free minute your mind wanders to thoughts of the bookshop and your idea and to Bucky. It’s hard to shake the feeling of wanting to dive in headfirst and just do it, go all in. But you know you can’t. You must do this right. You shoot Bucky a quick text, ‘hey babe, want to talk to Sam this weekend? Maybe we can hang at the bar after closing and go over our idea?❤❤’

His reply seems enthusiastic and you smile. ‘Definitely!❤ I can’t stop thinking about it, especially being in the bookshop now. I keep imagining where we could put things and how to move things around and all that.😁😍’ Letting out a breath you let him know you’re excited and try to get back to work. The rest of the day is boring, and the work week drags, however, your nights with Bucky are anything but.

Saturday night rolls around and you and Nat stroll into the bar late. You wade through the crowd of already drunk people, searching for Bucky behind the bar. You spot him leaning against the back counter, his button down open at the front and his sleeves rolled up, the buttons looking like they may pop off any moment. His jeans do little to hide his thick thighs and perfect ass. Sam slides up next to him and you follow their line of sight over the bar to find two girls giggling at something they said.

“Hey Nat, I think our boys caught some attention,” you snicker, pointing their way. Nat raises her brow, whispering in your ear before heading to the other end of the bar. She makes her way to the bar, getting the attention of Peter. “Hey Pete, could you get y/n and I some shots please,” she asks, batting her eyelashes.

He nearly falls over, grinning wide at you both before looking nervously over at Bucky and Sam. “Uh, yea, sure of course ladies. What’ll it be?” You pretend to think it over for a second, “you know what, why don’t you pick for us? Whatever you think we’ll like. And make one for yourself so you can join us!” He simply nods, rushing off to make your shots. “Could he be any more adorable,” Nat whispers, giggling. “No. But could he be any more afraid of the boys?”

You both let out a laugh, having way too much fun and looking over at them. They’re staring, Sam with his arms crossed over his chest and Bucky with his hand on his hip, all four eyebrows raised in your direction. You smirk at Bucky just as Peter appears with the shots. “Thanks Pete, can’t wait to try these.” He lifts his shot up, clinking the small glasses with yours and Nat’s. You keep your eyes on Bucky while you down the cold liquid, slamming the glass down on the bar and licking your lips. “That was great, good choice, thanks.” Nat heartily agrees, sliding the glasses back and smiling at Sam.

“You’re welcome, can I get you anything else?” A large hand lands on Peter’s shoulder, Sam’s deep voice answering his question. “No, thanks Pete, we’ll take care of the girls from here on out.” You watch him visibly stiffen, shaking his head vigorously before practically running off in the other direction.

“No need to scare the pants off the kid, baby,” Nat coos, her smirk reappearing. “And it looks like you were handling those girls on the other side of the bar just fine from here.” Bucky and Sam look at each other and scoff before they start laughing. “So, that’s what this is about!? They’re Steve’s cousins that are visiting from out of town,” Sam says, eyeing Bucky before laughing again. “You were jealous!” Bucky adds, his eyes bright. “I love it.”

His smile is so wide you want to punch him and for a moment you and Nat are silent. “Well, how were we supposed to know! And we were only having a bit of fun! AND might I add, I was not jealous!” Nat chimes in, “but clearly you two were! Coming over here and scaring Peter half to death!” They start laughing again and Bucky leans over the bar to whisper in your ear, “I love you.” Sam throws Nat a wink and waves over the two girls who quickly head toward you. After introductions are made and everyone laughs over your misunderstanding you spend the rest of the night enjoying your new friends and having some drinks.

By the time 2am arrives and the bar closes you’re all tired but still willing to talk things over. Sam cleans off a back table and grabs some waters. “Ok. Let’s hear this plan of yours,” he says, smiling brightly despite the time and fact that he’s been at work for almost 12 hours. Your heart swells. You love them all so much.

Before you start you reach into your bag, pulling out a small Tupperware. “Ok, but first, some cookies!” Sam whoops along with Bucky, two large hands grabbing for the container. Bucky looks to you, his mouth full of cookie, “go for it baby.” You hold his hand the whole time, laying out what you’ve come up with so far.

Nat’s smile never falters, and Sam’s excitement is clear as they listen to all you have to say. When you’re finally done, they naturally have questions which you and Bucky do your best to answer. “Listen, I think it could really work if you do it right. People love books. They love food. They love coffee. You just need to bring it all together,” Sam says, suggesting you set up a meeting with his friend Tony who owns several businesses and has a really good head for this stuff.

“He sounds like he could be a huge help,” you say excitedly. Sam nods, chewing his last cookie. “Oh definitely. He’s brilliant and honest and if anyone can help you navigate through this it’s him. And of course, us!” he adds, putting his arm around Nat. “Of course, guys! Did you tell Steve yet?” she asks. Bucky shakes his head no. “He and Peggy couldn’t make it tonight so they are going to stop by tomorrow, actually later today, so we can fill them in.”

When you finally leave the bar, it looks as if the sun is about to come up. “Summer is really here! I love how early the sun comes up these days. And how long it stays out,” you say, leaning into Bucky. He has his arm around your waist as the two of you walk slowly down the quiet street. Suddenly, he stops. “Hey, I have an idea. You wanna go on a little adventure before we head home?”

With a little squeeze to his middle you happily exclaim, “yes,” not needing to ask any questions as you follow him into the subway. About twenty minutes later you emerge back to the surface and see you’re at the High Line. “Oh, Bucky! I love it here!” He smiles down at you, walking up the steps. “I hope we can see what I want to see,” he whispers, holding your hand as you head down the path.

You reach a spot where you have a clear view of the water and Bucky sits on a bench, pulling you into his lap. It’s close to 6am and the sun is starting to peek over the horizon, the bright orange and pink hues dancing across the calm water. “Good morning,” he says against your ear, his eyes fixed on you instead of the rising sun. Turning your head, you kiss him softly. “It’s the most perfect morning.”

@aesthetical-bucky @auro-ora @azurika-writes @book-dragon-13 @buckys-broody-muffin @bucky-on-my-mind @bugsbucky @eurynome827 @hiddles-rose @hailmary-yramliah @hawksmagnolia @ikaris-whore @imgaril-lindru @itsunclebucky @jhangelface0523 @jewels2876 @loricameback @littledarlinhavefaithinme @littleredstarfish @mushyjellybeans @marvelandotherfandomimagines @marvelgirl7 @nano--raptor @randomfandompenguin @sallycanwait68 @scarletsoldierrr @softpeachbarnes @the-wayward-robot @throwmyheartawayagain @flyawaybay @amandatar-06 @nd1998sc @yansi1923 @captainchrisstan @vherriepie @godofplumsandthunder @when-the-hell-is-bucky @fire-flv @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @irishflutiegirl @rinthehufflepuff @moonybarnes @nordlysinthewoods @inflxmes @lauratang @my-favorite-fics-and-imagines @buchanansebba @emilylyoness @curlyred2020 @kaosera @breezy1415 @metal-armed-cuddly-dork @devynsdiary

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ronoken · 4 years

Text

Moon Warriors- A Terrible YA Story Starter

So, I have a terrible hobby. I like to see how awful I can make a story. For example, I was trying to avoid doing work and thought, “What’s the worst possible thing I could write that could be classified as a YA story?” And then I cranked this out in 30 minutes. Enjoy. Or don’t.

Like, it’s bad.

***

Once upon a time, in a land that is totally like our own, but more dystopian, because you can always add a smidge more dystopia (seriously, it’s the “hold my beer” of writing styles), lived a princess warrior. She had been taken from the royal palace, which was totally opulent and beautiful and loaded with people wearing wigs and makeup and lots of fancy clothing. It had been the night of the Spit On The Poor ball, where factory workers were sewn into the ballroom floor for the bourgeois to dance the night away on. After the dancing and the feast, which consisted of at least three hobos, the guests would wander to the gladiator pits where children would be chained to one another and were told to fight to the death, with life-saving medications being offered as the prize to the victors.

Anyway, the princess, who was a baby, was spirited out of the castle just as the cable news feeds to the kingdom were cut and the poor were suddenly deprived of their conservative news feed. Like the great white shark in Jaws 3 that had been trapped in a container after the pumps had been shut off, the people thrashed and growled, and demanded their precious feed of systemic bigotry resume to tell them how their situation was normal. Without this reassurance, they turned their frothing hatred towards the castle, and stormed it in a mad desire for flesh and live panel breakdowns of how other-colored people were responsible for unemployment.

And so, the princess lived. She was raised by her kindly nursemaid in a small village, called Poor People District-19. She grew up smart, and plucky, and fast. She was a cunning as she was beautiful, and she was totally hot, so that worked in her favor. Her hair was always hanging down and kinda dirty, but not so dirty that you’d go “eww!” More like she was one shower and a nice change of clothes away from being Princess McHotCharacter. Her clothes were rags, but nice, color-coordinated rags, and she was totally good with handheld weapons, like knives, arrows, and spears. She survived by hunting and doing underground video blogs about the tyrant king who had survived the uprising of 17 years ago who was also her dad BUT SHE DOESN’T KNOW THAT.

The princess didn’t know she was a princess. Instead, she was simply Jessica. Jessica Steel-Tiger; a rough and tumble gal who was too focused on freedom and her people to think about love.

At least that was the case up until the robot prince visited her land to see what poor people were. He was from the moon and lived there in harmony with the other robot people. He however had a sinister secret; he was born human. He had a whole bunch of cybernetic implants and stuff, so he was a kick-ass cyborg, but he still looked hot, so we’re good. He had some cool circuit-looking tattoos that were actually circuits (because TECHNOLOGY) along the side of his face, and his eyes would glow light blue due to robot-related things. His face was symmetrical, his hair was blond and kinda pointy, and he had abs. Hot, semi-robotic abs. His semi-see-through chainmail shirt would show them off as he travelled in his bubble-topped robot motorcade. He also had an axe or something. I dunno, it was cool.

Jessica was poised to take out the motorcade all Ewok-style, which was a thing in poor people lands. She had rigged up some boulders to roll off the tops of buildings (all poor-looking buildings, with no glass and soot stains on the sides) and some logs to roll across their path to slow them down (poor-looking logs, what with their lack of park and ramen cups squished into their branches). Then, she would leap atop the car, fight the robot prince to the death, chop off his head, and put it on a rusty girder pike in the town square. Actually, it was more of a town triangle- they couldn’t afford squares.

The rocks fell and took out the police hover cars just like she planned. She also had some nets for the walking soldiers, because nets.

Nets!

Anyway, everyone was taken out except for the robot prince, who opened the bubble top of his car, picked up his wicked-looking axe thing, and scanned the rooftops for the person responsible. He was soon rewarded with the site of Jessica doing a ton of somersaults through the air and landing perfectly on the hood of his lime green prince transport, as lime green is the color of lunar royalty. She twirled her staff and looked him in his handsome, robot eyes.

“I’m here to kill you,” she hissed.

The prince froze, mesmerized. “Wow. I have no idea who you are, but I am attracted to you.”

Jessica blushed and sputtered. “But, but you’re my enemy! You can’t be attracted to me. NOW WE FIGHT TO THE DEATH!”

She swung her staff, and he countered with his axe, and they dance/fought to a cool techno beat all around the street. He would be all, “I’m gonna hit you with this!” and swing his axe, and it would slo-mo miss her as she did a cool dodge backwards. She would do a twirly spin hit against him that would be countered by the handle of his axe, and then they would push against each other and get real close, each locking eyes with the other.

“I find you menacing and attractive,” the prince said.

“Your ability to defend yourself and your awesome eyes have aroused me, but that doesn’t excuse my rage towards you!” Jessica countered.

“Why do you hate me?” The robot prince asked, confused. “It is because I’m different? Robot different?”

“No! Because you’re evil!” Jessica countered.

The robot prince stared into Jessica’s eyes. “But… What if I could change?”

Jessica grabbed him and kissed him right there in the middle of the street. The kiss was electric and sparky, because he was half-robot, but his mouth was all hotness. It made her all angry and flustered again, but in the hot way that can be taken care of in about five minutes if necessary.

“Come with me,” Jessica said. “Join my rebellion and help me fight the evil king.”

“The king is totally evil,” the robot prince said. “He murdered my father. I am here to secretly get near to him and then kill him with my robot parts.”

“Then you’ll join my rebellion?” Jessica asked?

“Yes,” the robot prince, who was probably named something kinda dumb like Thunderrose Abberstone or something, said. “Can you teach me to be as awesome as you?”

Jessica shook her head. “No, but I’ll teach you to be as awesome as you,” she said.

Blushing, the robot prince nodded in agreement and followed her into the city to plot their rebellion.

And then they fucked.

#ya #hunger games #dystopia #bad writing #satire

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eclecticwordblender · 4 years

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Since @the-rambling-maiden gave me the kind of validation that makes one cry with joy. I couldn’t wait to publish part 2 of Mahabharata High School AU. Ik it’s too long I’m sorry 🥺.

Senior students in the limelight:

Yudhishthir:

The headboy.

Tries really hard to excell, still is barely above average.

Is driven by the idea that everyone likes him while most of his classmates find him plain annoying. Some of the teachers too.

Is the headboy because for some unknown reason Bheeshma likes him and no one likes to disagree with the principal. Dhritrashtra tried opposing but no one really listens to him.

this kid, Krishna ran a campaign that convinced everyone that Yudhishthir is the best headboy they could have. Without that he had no chance.

Everyone else just accepted and now listens to him because that’s what Krishna wants.

“Okay I’ll give a very interesting lecture in Moral science class.”

- everyone, even the teacher struggles to stay awake.

Draupadi:

Head girl.

Has witty comebacks to everything.

An all rounder.

Looking at her, everyone wonders why someone as under achieving as Yudhishthir gets to be the other school captain.

Changed her name to Panchaali. But everyone still calls her Draupadi. Doesn’t like it, but has made her peace with it.

Is already done with the world’s patriarchal ways which are the basis of the school’s sexist rule book.

Is EXTREMELY, EXTREMELY beautiful.

Once, some juniors went to the principal’s office and saw a picture of the first headmistress. They were all admiring her beauty while Draupadi walked in. And suddenly all the admiration shifted to her.

An iconic friendship quadrent of Arjuna, Satyabhama, Krishna and Draupadi exists right since they joined school.

Had a beef with the Geography teacher, Kunti because had a thing going with Arjuna for a while.

“🧚🏻‍♀️🥰 How are we ignoring our beloved head boy today?🥰🧚🏻‍♀️”

Arjuna:

Heart eyes uwu.

Soccer team captain.

Is some sort of a ladies man. However, always prioritises his ECAs and Krishna.

All rounder. Had the achievements to be head boy, definitely not the time.

Girls are always crushing on him.

Dated Draupadi in the freshman year, it didn’t work out. Is still best friends with her though.

Currently in a relationship with Subhadra, she’s two years younger, but our boi doesn’t really care because he’s so smitten by her. Bestfs still above her though.

Is Kunti’s favourite kid. Kunti is an actual sweetheart exclusively to him.

Everyone loves him.

Sometimes sick of all the attention he gets.

Major enimity with the soccer team’s vice captain, Karna.

“I WILL PROVE THE VICE CAPTAIN IS NO MATCH TO ME!”

Bheema:

Really tall, really husky, Fitness freak.

Still loves food more than right about anything.

There’s only one person he’d choose over food. The head girl. Some say he has had a crush on her since junior school. Draupadi values him a lot but doesn’t seem to reciprocate the attention he gives her.

Is stupid, but it’s okay because he’s also the good-est boy in town.

Not very bright academically.

Doesn’t get the recognition he deserves.

Literally the BEST basketball player, but all everyone in school seems to care about is soccer and track events :/.

Has anger management issues which land him into trouble very often.

“Panchaali! You should be proud of me, I prevented a murder today, BY CONTROLLING MY ANGER.”

Nakul:

Is a year younger to everyone in his class.

Really cute, really handsome. Is also well aware about this.

Is not much of a ladies man but SO MANY PEOPLE have crushes on him.

Is practically never seen without his guitar and bestf, Sahadev, who is the only one who shares his birth year.

Can be found giving out personalised skin care routines for fun. And Sahadev, being the brains of the duo, charges in cash, that is how both of them get their pocket money.

Goes to the restroom after every period to make sure his hair are still on point.

Has a successful band. Obviously he’s the lead.

“Wow! Who is this beauty!? Oh my God! This is why I use mirrors as mood boosters.”

Sahadev:

Smartest kid in the school. School topper.

Can talk about random trivia for hours, and people like listening to him.

Is either in the library or hanging out with Nakul.

Hates school A LOT.

Sahadev doesn’t attend a lot of classes because he knows teachers aren’t of any help to him.

Always attends maths class, even though he doesn’t like Sir Shakuni. Prolly because he wanted to be Shakuni’s fav but Shakuni only likes the bad boys. Sigh.

Is a walking human encyclopaedia.

“Why is everyone so stupid!? I WANNA GO HOME! I HATE YOU ALL! (Except my boi Nakul).”

Krishna:

(Ik everyone in the fandom loves him v much. Please don’t hate me for this.)

Manipulative to a point its very toxic.

Doesn’t like taking responsibilities and being held accountable

so just tricks people who take up responsibility into listening to him.

The OG heart eyes in the campus.

Still ships Draupadi and Arjuna for some reason. Even though he treats Arjuna’s girlfriend as his younger sister.

So stubborn.

Is good at everything but doesn’t like the lime light.

A Krishna-Shakuni Feud is the best source of entertainment.

Krishna seems to think that every body who disagrees with him is absolutely wrong and would go any length to make a point. Is also sort of disrespectful to the teachers he doesn’t like.

However, has a very captivating charm that makes him most people’s favourite. Shakuni sees through his well planned schemes because he has fully functional brain cells.

Loves his friendship quadrant and a girl from some other school who visits often, a lot.

A feminist. Hates the school’s rule book in a positive manner.

“🧚🏻‍♀️🥰 What mischief should I do today? And how do I trick someone into thinking it was their idea, not mine?🥰🧚🏻‍♀️”

Karna:

Soccer team vice captain.

Here on a scholarship.

Every girl with daddy issues is head over heels for him.

Uses Hating Arjuna as a personality trait.

Also uses his love for Duryodhana as another personality trait.

Has lots of rumours about him. He doesn’t care because all he cares about is defeating Arjuna.

A lot of students ship Draupadi with him. It’s just stupid. Both of them dislike each other, but are too evolved to care about stupid rumours.

Is extremely generous.

Since the owner’s kid, who is RICH is his bestf, he never misses a chance to slide a meal from the overpriced canteen to any one who forgot lunch.

Suffers from classism and tries very hard to fight the inferiority complex he gets because most kids around are super rich.

Dronacharya dislikes him, he dislikes him back, however, still tries to win him.

Has abandonment issues.

Some say he looks upto Ma’am Kunti for validation.

The cricket coach, Pashuram, likes this kid though.

“Are you challenging me Arjuna!?”

Duryodhan:

Thinks too highly of himself.

Being the owner’s kid makes up for half his personality. The other half is his devotion towards his beloved Karna.

Is probably bi and Has a not so subtle crush on his bestf.

Has another personality that is devoted to trying to convince everyone he should be head boy.

He once started an intervention demanding “Duryodhana should be headbody” and he was also the leader on the intervention. Karna was unwillingly in his support.

Is Sir Shakuni’s favourite bratty kid.

Only listens to Shakuni or Karna.

Comes up with evil and downright mean mischiefs but always fails.

He once tried to full on flirt with Draupadi but got his a*s whooped.

Tried to sabotage Yudhishthir’s reputation but Krishna’s interference led him to fail.

“Where’s Mitr Karna!?!? I get anxiety when I don’t have him or Sir Shakuni around for long!”

“I should be headboy! No head girl. Karna should be headboy 2.”

Dushasan:

Befriended Duryodhana first year of school.

Looks up to Duryodhana. Only imitates his bad qualities. That’s it, that’s his entire personality.

Even Shakuni who loves bratty kids, dislikes this one.

Has more haters than the headboy. Except people hate on him openly.

Total failure.

A bully.

Dushasana can be found in the last room on the third floor of the oldest block very often. That’s the detention room.

Tries to flirt with every girl around, and girls just ew this creep AS THEY SHOULD.

Doesn’t have a personality of his own.

“Dury Bro! HOW DID YOU DO THAT? CAN I TOO PLEASE?”

Sikhandi/Sikhandini:

FEMINIST.

Gender fluid and ready to teach a lesson to anyone who invalidates her.

Strong and independent.

Important member of the soccer as well as the cricket team.

Also, a star athelete.

Has a very strong bonding with Ma’am Amba because VERY similar.

Sikhandi/Sikhandni can be seen gossiping with Amba on the stair case a lot, some claim to have heard them trash talk Bheeshma.

Bold and not afraid to stand for what they believes in without caring about the consequences.

Once they gave herself a third ear piercing, using a compass when Kunti told her a double piercing was a distraction after Yudhishthir complained about it.

Emerges as a parent figure to juniors who are bullied for being different.

“As long as you have the right intentions you’re valid okay?”

Drishtdyum:

Introvert.

Minds his own business.

Manages good grades and a spot in the sports squad.

He found out he shared his birthday with the Draupadi in second grade. Loves her like a sister since then.

The basketball coach sees some spark in him that no one else does.

Is liked by all but doesn’t get the attention he deserves.

Is pretty content with life in General.

Ashwatthama:

Soccer coach’s kid.

Is self aware.

Realistic and practical.

Suffers from major attention deprivation.

Duryodhan lent him a pencil case in second standard. Asshwatthama tries so hard to become his favourite ever since.

The Iconic Karna Dury duo however, ignore almost always.

Expanded the “Duryodhana should be headboy” intervention but his efforts weren’t recognised.

Closeted gay.

Respects superiors while disliking them.

Quite bitter.

“Will this win me Duryodhan’s love?”

Subhadra:

Eyes like forest pools.

Looks up to Draupadi as a role model.

Arjuna is her weakness even though she’s dating him.

Kunti likes her. Doesn’t mind if she’s dating Arjuna.

There’s this brilliant student in the junior section, Abhimanyu. Subhadra and Arjuna spend a lot of time with him together. They sort of look like a very happy family.

Always tops English and History class.

Gossip queen xoxo.

“Draupadi Didi and Krishna bhaiya said so, Arjuna you know I cannot say no to them.”

Dushala:

Is the sweetest person around.

Believes there is some good in every person.

Even hangs out with Duryodhana and squad thinking they’ll change some day.

Karna and Dushala often discuss how to mend this group’s ways, assisted by Dury’s girlfriend, Bhanumati.

Is stuck in a relationship with a jerk but doesn’t have the heart to break up with him.

Is literally kindness personified.

Dushala’s favourite teacher is Gandhaari. Probably because no one else gives the teacher validation and Dushala doesn’t like when someone is sad.

Jayadaratha:

Terrible person.

Only the size of a grain of sand better than Dushasana.

Started Dating Dushala Sophomore year.

Dushala really wants to break up with this jerk but she’s too sweet to hurt someone even as terrible as him so she just avoids him.

Once Draupadi slapped him in public. Dushala cheered the loudest.

Is only relevant because of his girlfriend.

Bhanumati:

Says Duryodhana is an excellent boyfriend.

Corrects her man when he’s wrong.

Is also close friends with Karna.

Led the intervention against the “Duryodhana should be headboy intervention.”

It hurt Dury but it’s okay because Bhanumati has her own thoughts and he respects that. Guess he is actually a good boyfriend.

“OMG DURY!!!! STOP IT! KARNA HOW DO WE STOP DURY FROM DOING ANOTHER F*CK UP?”

Yuyutsu:

Is very lovable.

Boy has no hater.

Somehow was befriended by Duryodhan in junior school.

Feels stuck in the Dury gang ever since.

Secretly, very strongly admires Yudhishthir, Arjuna, Draupadi and of course, KRISHNA.

Is everything you’d wanna fix in Yudhishthir.

Yuyutsu, Dushala and Vikarna trio is bff goals.

“Is there any way I can change my friend group? Face palms”

Vikarna:

Counsels Duryodhana on Yuyutsu’s advise.

There isn’t much to say about him. Dude’s a good guy with humanly flaws.

Feels stuck in Dury gang but has made his peace with their ways.

Dushala, Yuyutsu and Vikarna are often found gossiping with Ma’am Gandhaari, she often warns them about how their other friends are bad kids and they should not get influenced.

“Why!? Because yuyutsu says so that’s why!”

Eklavya:

Here on scholarship.

This poor kid was bullied so much initially when he joined school because of his economic status.

Coach Drona wouldn’t let him into the soccer team because he’s afraid someone might out shine his favourite.

Stays away from the dirty politics in school.

Became a star athelete despite all the odds he faced.

Eklavya was once locked in the washroom before a 100m race on the sports day. No one knows who did that for sure. Although some people claim to know it was Coach Drona.

Rukmini:

President of the theatre club.

Crushes on Krishna for an unknown duration.

Krishna does give her attention because EXCUSE ME, she is impossible to ignore.

Rukmini befriended Nakul in the corridors as they bumped into each other after every period, while going to/coming from the washroom to check their respective hairdos.

Satyabhama:

Is Draupadi’s psychological twin.

President of the debating society.

Another one of Krishna’s closest friends.

The school is full of Satyabhama-Krishna shippers. But their friendship quadrant knows Krishna is smitten by this girl from some other school.

Radha:

The girl from some other school.

Probably goes to an all girls convent school.

Is shy but can be seen having a a gala time with Krishna after school. Friends w Subhadra too.

Nobody in school knows much about her but it’s evident Krishna and her are 11/10 soulmates uwu.

Rukmi:

Rukmini’s twin brother.

Is overly protective of his sister.

Thinks he’s well sorted but almost always creates a mess.

Has some sort of minor feud with Krishna.

Is neck deep in a very toxic friendship with Shishupal.

Shishupal:

Rebel without a cause.

A headache.

Wants to fight Krishna but is scared of him.

Wants to join the Dury gang but no on lets him in.

Shishupal is known to spread the most problematic rumours in school.

Hidimbi:

Stays occupied in her small social circle of not so popular kids.

She’s famous, though doesn’t talk to many people.

Proposed to Bheem in middle school.

Bheem gently turned her down because he was already mad about Draupadi. Hidimba moved on with life without sulking about it. Probably still likes him though.

Also, really close to this Ghatotkutch person who is in fifth grade.

Ulupi and Chitrangada:

Dated Arjuna for a few weeks each.

Then bonded over how he’s not a good boyfriend and not as perfect as everyone thinks he is. they do have a point though.

Are now bestfs and don’t like anyone else in school.

Since, I’m an attention wh*re tagging: @bigheadedgirlwithbigdreams @soniaoutloud @supermeh-krishnafan @incorrectmahabharatquotes @chaanv @hoeticulture @lemponkoira @1nsaankahanhai-bkr

Also, link to part 1: https://eclecticwordblender.tumblr.com/post/625462681921568768/foundation

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captainseaweedbrains · 4 years

Text

The Dance of the Color Guard, Op. 64 Ch. 4

Katniss and Peeta used to be best friends when they were kids, but now in high school, they're barely on speaking terms. It isn't until they are forced together as the titular star-crossed lovers for their marching band's field show that they will have to face their past mistakes and try to get along if they ever hope of defeating the notorious Capitol Height's Imperial Marching Crusaders in competition.

It's all about winning and if that means pretending to be in love with Peeta Mellark, so be it.

A/N: Thank you to @rosegardeninwinter for editing and helping push me to finish! You are the best and any mistakes found are mine. :)

Start at the beginning on Ao3: X

Ch. 4 Ao3: X

June

“Peeta really isn’t that bad,” Madge said for what felt like the millionth time. Katniss rolled her eyes and flipped the page of her magazine. Ever since learning that Peeta was going to be the Romeo to Katniss’ Juliet, Madge had been defending him every chance she got. “He’s really not. And he’s so smart, Katniss. Picks up on things real quickly. So all this moping around you’ve been doing all week is stupid.”

Katniss frowned and shoved her sunglasses further up her nose, preferring the screams of the children running around them on the pool deck to Madge defending Peeta Mellark to her once again. Was she being overly dramatic about this? Maybe. Was Madge right that Peeta wasn’t as bad as she made him out to be? Perhaps. But it still sucked and she couldn’t stop complaining about it.

“I know you’re Team Peeta,” she sighed, “but would it kill you to see things from my perspective just this once? Isn’t that what girl friends are supposed to do? Side with their other girl friends?”

“Maybe if you were right about him being a bad person, I would,” Madge sniffed, picking up her own gossip magazine to flip through. “But as of right now, you’ve provided me no evidence in support of your claim.” It was times like these Katniss wished her friend wasn’t the daughter of a prestigious lawyer.

“Gale sides with me,” she argued, pointing at her tall friend standing in line between two twelve-year-old kids for their slushies. “Doesn’t that count for anything on my behalf?”

“Gale’s an idiot.”

“An idiot you’re dating.” Madge stuck her tongue out at that, unable to refute her long-standing relationship with Gale and Katniss smiled. Of all the relationships she’d seen throughout the years—and band romances had provided plenty of weird, random romances, the weirdest being Johanna Mason and Melinda “Cashmere” Hewitt—Madge and Gale’s was the only one she saw that made no sense on paper yet made complete sense in person. The spoiled rich girl with a heart of gold and the rough-around-the-edges boy from the bad part of town? She never used to buy it in the movies, thinking the concept too ridiculous, but Madge and Gale proved her wrong time and time again.

Even when they had broken up sophomore year, claiming they were just too different, Katniss was still proven wrong because they couldn’t shut up about each other—griping about how she just didn’t understand and he always has to be right and I can’t believe I lost my virginity to that, a fact Katniss could have gone her whole life not knowing. When they got back together, it was hard to say who was more thrilled about it: the happy couple or Katniss.

“Come on, Madge,” she sighed, flopping back in her lounge seat. “Why must you always be the diplomatic one?”

“Someone has to be between your impulsiveness and Gale’s anarchy attitude.

“Did someone say anarchy?” the anarchist himself joked, handing Madge her lime-flavored slushie with a kiss on the lips for a tip. He handed Katniss her watermelon one and jokingly asked where his tip was. Katniss threw her three dollars at him with a “Keep the change” rebuttal. Gale laughed and pocketed the cash, lifting Madge’s legs up and over onto his lap so he could sit.

“So what did I miss?”

Madge snorted and offered her boyfriend a sip of her slushie. “Here’s a hint: it’s Katniss’ favorite subject.”

Gale rolled his eyes and accepted the drink. “Mellark again?” He took a large sip and winced at the sudden brain freeze, handing the large cup back. “God, I’m so sick of hearing about that guy. Katniss, get over it and move on already.” Even Gale was getting sick of her talking about it? Somehow, that hit lower on the pathetic scale. Gale was her complaining companion. Her bitch buddy. The person she reserved all her annoyances for because she knew he’d have his own trivial things to complain about. Hell, their friendship was founded upon complaining, starting in 8th Grade Science when their teacher kept giving them busy work to cope with the very public scandal of his wife sleeping with their school principal. They complained about everything with each other.

And now even Gale had said enough.

Well this sucked.

“Fine,” she said, not really feeling fine about it. “I won’t talk about it anymore.” Her friends looked doubtful. “I mean it! No more talk of Peeta Mellark and how my whole summer is practically ruined because I have to have extra practices to teach him how to dance on the field. And I’m not going to talk about how that cuts into my shifts at Aunt LuLu’s store, which means my spending money is going to be next to nothing by the time school starts. So if you two ever want to do anything more fun than hanging around the school parking lot, I guess you’re shit out of luck.”

Gale smiled sweetly at Madge. “I’m so glad she’s not talking about it anymore.” Katniss scowled and gave them the middle finger, causing them both to laugh.

“I think you both are very biased over this whole thing,” Katniss said after a while. Gale and Madge didn’t say anything, too focused on tanning and summer reading homework. That didn’t seem to stop Katniss from continuing. “You’re both too friendly with him because of classes and band. He’s gotten to you.”

“One of us is biased,” Gale said, “and it’s not us. It’s you. You’ve hated him for as long as I’ve known you.”

“With good reason!” she huffed, crossing her arms. They didn’t ask her to elaborate on that, already making it clear they were done talking about Peeta Mellark and all the annoyances he brought to her life, and she hated the fact that she did want to keep talking about him. About marching band. About the whole stupid situation. But she kept her promise and kept her mouth shut.

No one said anything further until Madge declared herself starving and Gale suggested they stuff their faces with greasy burgers and fries at Sae’s.

**********

Sae’s Diner was packed with its usual lunch crowd—men and women from the factories nearby on lunch, sitting at the worn pastel-colored counter; a couple of kids they recognized from school goofing off in the corner booth, shooting straw wrappers off the straws; and a book club filled with women in their fifties discussing some brick of a book over coffee and Sae’s famous blueberry and cream pie sitting in the center of the small diner. The old woman herself smiled warmly at them when they’d walked in, asking if they were wanting the usual.

“You’re the best, Sae,” Gale thanked as they waved and headed to their booth next to the front door.

As they waited for their cheeseburgers and chocolate milkshakes, Gale chatted about some war movie he and his brothers saw that sounded god awful boring, no matter how much he tried re-explaining the plot to them. Madge and Katniss rolled their eyes and told him if he wanted to see the movie again so badly, to go see it by himself. “I’m not going to the movies by myself like some weirdo,” he scoffed, taking his hands off the table as the waitress deposited their plates of food and drinks.

“Why not?” Katniss asked, picking up a french fry to dip into her milkshake. “I do it all the time.”

“Because you hate people.”

“So do you.” He shrugged, not having much to argue there, and picked up his burger.

“So what time is Trinket summoning you tomorrow?” Gale asked, changing the subject completely, and tearing into his burger. Grease dripped down his hands and Madge tossed a pile of napkins at him. He accepted with a smile and slid his side of pickles over to her, something he purposely ordered more of because he knew how much she liked them. Madge happily bit into one, her eyes gazing at him with such adoration, Katniss rolled her eyes. Their coupling was too much for her sometimes.

“I thought you didn’t want me talking about marching band,” she said innocently enough, taking a bite into her own burger.

“I didn’t want you talking about Mellark,” he said pointedly, wagging a fry at her. “Marching band is different. Less annoying and less boy drama. So what time does Miss Cream Puff have you coming in?”

It irritated her that Gale simplified her great dislike for Peeta Mellark as mere boy drama because it was far more complicated than that, but there was no point trying to explain it to Gale. He understood a lot about her, but when it came to Peeta… Well, it was best to let him believe whatever he wanted. “Eight a.m. sharp,” she said sourly, dipping another french fry into her milkshake.

Gale winced. “That sucks. Why so early?”

“Peeta couldn’t get out of working his afternoon shifts and it was either that or not have a single weekend off until November.” She was still bitter about the change in schedule. Originally Miss Trinket wanted them twice a week outside of color guard’s normal rehearsal times, but with Peeta’s work schedule not being as flexible as Katniss’, she’d decided to make it morning rehearsals and make those shorter, which forced them to add another day of rehearsal to make up for the cut time. Now instead of having rehearsal four times a week, Katniss had five with her weekends full of shifts at Aunt LuLu’s shop for the extra cash she desperately needed. This summer was going to blow.

“I still think you should’ve been picked for Juliet,” Katniss told Madge teasingly. “You and Gale, maybe?” she cooed. “The true star-crossed lovers of Athens Ridge.”

Gale scowled. “I’d rather drop dead than have to deal with Trinket when she’s in choreographer mode. She’s a total tyrant.”

“She’s not so bad once you get used to her.”

“Tell me what you think after dealing with her for a whole season, oh captain, my captain.”

Point taken.

Much like at the pool, they talked for a bit about things going on in their lives—Madge taking some online French class because her grades last semester weren’t great; Gale’s successful find for parts with Thom in the junkyard. Katniss didn’t say much as she munched on her burger and fries, afraid Madge would lecture her again on Peeta Mellark and her inability to let things go with him. That and she promised she was done talking about him. But outside of marching band and him, not much was going on in her life. She felt a bit pathetic about that.

Conversation picked up when Sae came over, asking how things were doing. The three smiled at the old woman, happy to fill her in on all the small details of their lives. Sae was the unofficial grandmother of the Seam. Always there to show her support for her kiddos. Her small diner was covered with pictures of sports teams she’s sponsored over the years, pictures of her and kids dressed in dance gear, holding certificates.

“Did you hear the news about Katniss, Sae?” Madge asked when the topic of marching band came up. Sae was always interested in that, loving watching her talented kids play as they wove around the field. “She’s going to be our Juliet this year! Isn’t that exciting?”

Sae’s grey eyes warmed, turning to Katniss. “Is that so? Captain and the lead part?” She shook her head in astonishment, her salt and peppered colored hair coming loose from her hair tie. “You were always so talented with those flags. I’m not surprised. Who’s your Romeo?”

“Peeta Mellark.” The name felt lodged in her throat, but thankfully, it squeezed out without too much of a squeak in her voice.

Sae didn’t know all the kids on the west side, but she definitely knew Peeta. He would often tag along with her and her dad on their trips to the woods, stopping at the diner after for hot chocolate and pie. In fact, his picture was one of the first ones you saw coming in—Sae and six-year-old Peeta smiling at the camera, her arm around him as he proudly held up his lost baby tooth. Her dad had taken the picture, she remembered, and if the camera’s lens had shifted a little more to the right, it would have also captured five-year-old Katniss pouting on the side, upset that he kept losing his baby teeth when she’d lost none. It was a picture her gaze avoided whenever they visited Sae’s, unable to stomach the sight of an old friend turned asshole, the memory of her dad’s laughter as he took the photo.

“Oh, Peeta,” Sae chuckled, the familiar twinkle she always got in her eyes when he was around. The old woman doted on him when they were kids and he ate up her attention like there was no tomorrow. “How is that boy? Staying out of mischief, I hope?”

Gale and Madge looked to her with knowing smiles, wondering what she would say. Katniss cleared her throat and looked down at her half-eaten plate for a moment. “Fine, I guess. We don’t hang out anymore. You know that, Sae.”

She did know that, but it never stopped her from asking whenever he came up. “Aye, girl, I do. I suppose you aren’t happy with Effie Trinket’s choice, then?”

Gale snorted. “Happy? More like obsessively pissed. She hasn’t shut up about it since May.” She glared at her friend and he shrugged, popping a fry in his mouth. “What? You haven’t.”

Sae gave one of her warm, crooked teeth smiles. “Maybe this is the push you kiddos need to kiss and make up.” Katniss’ cheeks warmed at the mention of kisses, remembering Leevy’s comment how they were so going to have sex by the end of the year. She still hadn’t fully forgiven her friend for that suggestion.

“I’m afraid that’s impossible, Sae,” she said, her voice still a little strained. “We’re just too different.”

“Ah, well. I suppose we grow in different directions sometimes,” the woman sighed with a shake of her head. A woman from the book club table called for her and Sae gave them a parting wave and smile. “Tell Peeta ol’ Sae misses her boy and that he needs to come in more. I haven’t seen him in ages.”

Katniss pointedly avoided Gale and Madge’s amused smirks, focusing on the burger in front of her. “I’ll be sure to pass the message along,” she muttered, taking a big bite of her food to avoid continuing this conversation. She loved Sae. Thought of her like a grandmother. But there was no way in hell was she telling Peeta that. No way. Then he’d think she was gushing about him to anyone who would listen, thrilled to be his Juliet, a role many girls at school would kill for (Probably. Maybe. She thinks.), and then his stupid ego would just get bigger and he’d be even more obnoxious to deal with. No, best not to mention anything and lie next time she saw Sae.

A small part felt guilty at that, though, because Sae was like a grandma who wanted the best for her, and Peeta too, she guessed, but again, Sae didn’t know what happened between them. And Katniss wasn’t going to fill her in on their broken history six years too late.

Her phone next to her plate vibrated, signifying a text message just came in. Wiping her greasy hands, Katniss frowned, picking up her phone. Who was texting her? Everyone who’d text her was either sitting right across from her or were busy at work or camp. The little text message lit up at her touch, showing it was from an unknown number, and her frown turned into a scowl as she read it.

Hey!!!!!!!!!1!1111!!!!!!! the message read with a thousand typo-filled exclamation marks. God, who text like that? Trinket gave me ur ######## Hope thats cool. Thought Id give mine!!!!!!!111111 🤗 Ill see u Mon dearest Juliet ❤️❤️❤️❤️!!!!!!!!!!!!111!😘😘😘😘!!!111!!!!!!

For the briefest of seconds, Katniss swore her vision blacked out. One moment she was staring at her phone. The next, darkness. Like her brain couldn’t process the simple text on her phone and chose to shut down instead. When her vision cleared, the message was still there, glaring brightly at her with those thousand exclamation/number marks.

Peeta Mellark texted her. He had her number.

Her stomach churned and now she feared that what her mother always warned about Sae’s greasy food would come true now and she’d throw it all up.

Peeta Mellark texted her. It was truly official. He had her number and she had his and they were partners now. If she had any doubts about this whole thing before—as if she had dreamt the last four weeks of her life—they were wiped clean now. Replaced with this typo-filled text message from the very boy who hurt her.

“You okay?” Madge asked.

Katniss nodded and clicked out of the message, tossing the phone into her bag. She’d deal with it later.

#Everlark #Everlark Fanfiction #The Hunger Games #The Hunger Games fanfiction #Everlark fanfic #The hunger Games fanfic #THG #It's been a while and I'm sorry #Life amirite?#My writing #The Dance of the Color Guard #The Dance of the Color Guard Op. 64

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hermitcraftheadcanons · 4 years

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AU Raffle: Cryptid AU!

[COMPLETE]

The result of the random selection was the Cryptid AU! Multiple people suggested this, so I'm looking forward to hearing all the ideas and extensions you guys will come up with. This will be a masterpost collecting them all, and it will be pinned for the duration of the AU.

Original suggestion: "For the Raffle. Cryptid AU. None of the Hermits are truly human and they all are really powerful cryptids that are hiding their true nature. The catch! Every Hermit thinks the other Hermits are totally normal and they are the only cryptid one. Hilarity ensures with everyone trying to explain the extrange things that keep happening "

Some ideas I came up with:

- every Hermit is a cryptid or monster of some kind, except for Grian, who is fully human and completely clueless about everything that's going on (suggested by a previous ask)

- Team ZIT is an investigation group trying to prove the existence of cryptids, but each one of them is subtly trying to sabotage the investigation to hide their own cryptid-ness. None of the three know the other two are also cryptids. Hilarity ensues.

- Xisuma probably knows what's going on with everyone, but he's not saying anything

- Mumbo is doing an absolutely horrible job of hiding that he's a cryptid, but somehow people still don't notice. Iskall is probably the closest to figuring it out.

- VintageBeef has already figured out that Keralis isn't human, but Keralis is bribing him to keep quiet

I hope that's enough to get the ball rolling! Send in your ideas using asks, and I'll put them down here!

If you need ideas about which cryptid would fit best with which Hermit, this list may be helpful.

Anonymous Additions:

- I feel like xisuma should be some kind of shapeshifter

- cleo was brought back to life by a family that loved her very much- or at least, that was what they tried to do. in reality, they brought a completely new soul back in the body of a deceased relative. cleo felt uncomfortable around people who thought she was a different person than she was, so she ran away and eventually befriended the hermits bc she just felt ~drawn to them~. she disguises her bloodless skin and lack of body heat with thick clothes and lots of makeup

- Cleo, of course, is a zombie, but she also has ties to Cthulu that she doesn't really try to hide, but that people overlook all the time. I'm just saying, an avatar of an eldritch being having to be a zombie kinda makes sense...

- Cthulu needed a body, and this kind family was nice enough to supply one! It was kinda their fault really, praying to ancient gods and making deals without reading the fine print. Cleo might feel guilty, but it wasn't on her, not really

- cryptid au: joe isn't a human, but a changeling: a shapeshifting, nonhuman entity that evolved to invade human families like a cuckoo. he has the ability to bend light to make illusions, but he normally just uses his powers to make himself appear human. however he does like to make all lime green things he sees invisible, for the lulz

- What about mumbo being a vampire, it just introduces the idea of so many odd behaviors that the others are just oblivious to

- What if ren is a werewolf(I know it isn't original) and he just thinks of the other hermits as his pack and is therefor very protective of them

- Obligatory Ren is a Werewolf for the Cryptid AU. He is acts like a gigant puppy when he is in wolf form. Nobody questions why sometimes they found a gigant wolf trying to play fetch with them. But nobody is complaining. Everyone talks about it and Ren is just upset because the gigant pupper has never come to see him. Surprise!! Not even Ren knows he is a werewolf

- idk if your still doing cryptid stuff because i don't really know how this works but,, what if everyone thinks that Grian Is Something when he's not. They keep trying to figure it out by asking him weird questions or trying to get him to do weird stuff, but he still stays completely oblivious. And then since Xisuma knows what everyone is, he thinks it's hilarious trying to watch everyone try to find something that isn't there.

- Cryptid au: Doc has made it obvious that he is a cryptid like, he explains it so obviously even an idiot would tell that he's one, But no one has figured out yet. So after the 15th time of explaining things he decides to present how he's a cryptid, by making a goatess.

- For the au, I have 2 ideas for grian, either he is very outspoken about not believing in the super natural, or he very much does believe in the supernatural, either way he unknowingly befriends multiple cryptids and is very confused

- Cryptic AU: Tango has fire for hair, and no ones really questioned as to why?

- What if false was a siren, just because it seems like an interesting idea (my addition: Wels would also make a great siren)

- Stress seems like the type to be an elf, graceful and cheerful, and of course admiring nature's beauty

- What if Impulse was mothman, I like this idea because of the whole team zit being paranormal investigators and they just go looking for mothman on one trip, and Impulse is just standing there probably feeling a bit awkward

- If Impulse is Mothman and he can fly and Tango is like a fire demon that controls fire, is only fair that Zed is an aquatic Cryptid. Maybe related to a lake monster or he is a Sea Serpent

- Yeti Iskall getting used to the hot environment of the Jungle??? Maybe?

- i have no clue how this works but etho is related to ningen in a way (Antarctic sea creatures from Japanese folklore)

- Joe's poems seem to stick in your head, echoing around for hours after you hear them, ringing between your ears. Their subjects vary, but they often seem eerily prophetic, warnings encased in rhythm and rhyme. Sometimes you swear you can hear the soft scritch of a pen on paper, before you realize you are the only one around.

- Wait how the hell would jevin hide that fact he's a slime? Better yet how do the other hermits not put to and to together? Through I think jevin probably wouldn't even bother trying to hide it, I mean he's a huge blob of slime how would you not be able to tell

(my response, summarized) Jevin inhabits a body of slime because that's the easiest way to hide his true form. "Jevin" is a non-physical entity that can possess other lifeforms by destroying their will. He chose a slime this time because it was easy and inconspicuous.)

- Cryptid au: Team ZIT have a headquarters and they all pitched in to commission Etho to make their door bell chime, the ghost busters theme, and afterward interrogated Etho to the ground.

- Doc is not a creeper with cyborneticts. Doc is the AI that came with the cyborneticts and over-wrote the conciousness of the creeper. Figured that making Doc something else would be too dificult so maybe subverting what he is with what we got alredy is enough (like you did with Jevin)

- I am putting this here for vampire mumbo in the au because the thought will not leave my head. It's dark, and mumbo's eyes seem to reflect light very well, his canine teeth seem just a bit too long and sharp, they seem to be stained red,was he always this tall? Something about him seems off, he seems very elegant in this darkness.

- cryptid au: when joe was young, he was ignored so much that he turned invisible. you can still see his shadow but you could look directly at him and not see him there with the best tools. he disguises himself by staying quiet, using text to communicate with the other hermits or by covering himself with clothes and masks so nobody would be able to see his body even if he wasnt invisible.

- For the au I think that Iskall could be a dryad because of his base this season

- Imagine if you will: Tango leaves town for a bit so the team ZIT can't do their "investigations". Impulse gets bored and decided to pretend to kidnap Zedaph in mothman-form. When Tango returns, Zedaph tells him how he almost was kidnapped by Mothman (and is over-exaggerating on every detail)

- What if in the au there is a situation where team zit is in some sort of danger, and so each of them just independently decide that they have to reveal the fact of their cryptid selves, and they just collectivly think,"huh. Okay." And after they are safe, they just talk about it as a group

- Beef is big foot.

- Biffa looks like a robot or cyborg, which one? He won't say. Maybe its because its neither, maybe he's just a walking body with a mind, maybe he's just a suit of armor roaming the world, maybe a spirit or ghost from the past, maybe a mob whose inhabited and pilots the body, maybe he's just Biffa. Only he knows, but he won't say

- Cryptid AU: I’m just imagining zedaph or tango throwing a bell at grian in an attempt to “capture” him under the suspicion that he’s part fae or something at a server meeting

- About Cryptid!Wels, sometimes, when the night is dark and the world is silent, you'll hear it; a soft voice in the darkness. You can't help but listen to it as you get lost in the song, swaying to the melody as your foot moves to the beat. The song gets louder and your feet are more frantic as they seem to take you somewhere. Suddenly, the voice stops singing and so you stop moving, and when you open your eyes you find yourself on the edge of the cliff overlooking the ocean. The siren lurks near

- Doc isnt a Creeper with cybrog parts but a robot made to look like a creeper, that arm and eye? yea just exposed parts from years of just not caring enough. He's waiting to see when someone will call him out on it. So far, only TFC and X but they like to watch how long this will go. Doc isnt even hiding anymore, he loves to mess with Grian by making remarks that imply he's a robot but Grian just can't figure it out

- tbh I love the idea of Joe as a regular human who just acts super cryptic and strange, and has a bit of skill at poetry. others try and figure out what he is, and he's just vibing in a corner, the last one anyone would expect to be the sole normal person on the server

- Cryptid AU. Joe and Cleo as the ‘One Bagel. No!! Two bagels!’ Vine. Joe being the one that asked and Cleo ignoring Cthulhu

- Joe starts sharing different ideas of what he could be, and only Cleo knows (mostly... she's the closest at least). Joe's mystery is a Hermitcraft classic, greeting every hermit except X, who still only has what Joe's told him to go on. He delights in the chaos he causes

- Scar is a poltergeist, he hides it well. One time Grian caught him using his powers, after scar fessed up, in private, they both bring some amount of chaos to the server, but not to much so the ZIT crypt hunters, name in progress, don't know about the chaos, thus not puting the duo in danger.

- Mumbo might be a vampire, but it isn’t for blood (at least, not anymore). Only Grian has come close to figuring it out, and it’s due to seeing how refreshed and satisfied his friend looks after being around 2+ groups of people. If only he would just straight up and ask. - 🦊

- Rather last minute but do you have any ideas of how Evil Xisuma could fit into this? Would he be a shapeshifter as well. A copy of X's true form? A demon haunting Xisuma? Just X's pesky brother? There's a handful of ideas I can't personally decide what would fit best. Maybe none of them at all, who know?

Cryptid Au. Xisuma shapeshifts for fun. Thats how we get Turtle!Xisuma, Beesuma and Stridersuma. All hermits just assume X changes his suit because they have never seen his face so there is no way for them to know he shifts. Also clasic headcanon that TFC is Herobrine and he is just laying low in Hermitcraft after years of going around worlds. Everyone knows the legend about Herobrine but have not connected the dots yet because TFC is just everyone’s grandpa. No way he could be Herobrine.

- @/ivi-prism

- While most might assume that Grian would be a harpy, its actully Scar. He's incredibly flexable in Human form, hes able to manuver his foot behind his head, and moret than once has Cub walked in on Scar with a living fish in his mouth. He never questioned it because "Hey, Vex magics weird."

- Imagine- sytyr Zedaph and Fae Impulse walking in on Willowwisp Tango who,because willowwisps are typically tiny, shrunk in response to panic and is now stuck in a caldron. I think that be hilarious. Just the idea of impulse going-"YOUR A CRYPTID?" while Zed just "WAIT I KNEW I DIDNT BURN THOSE PAPERS!" Which leads into a discussion of ZIT internal sabotage, and suddenly ZIT invesigation changes direction from "Are cryptids real" to "Is anyone else a Cryptid cause this cannot be a Coincidence"

- @/crypticalwitch

- Cryptic AU: Tango can also control his hair, to an extent. He can slick it back, but it still looks like burning embers. It's a bit mesmerizing

- Cryptid AU: Cub was a normal guy, maybe with some weirder interests, before the Vex. "Playing" with their magic too much is what made him a cryptid. So maybe he understands that the other hermits aren't exactly "human". But it isn't his business, and it means they don't question what the Vex get him into, so he just doesn't say anything about it

- Cryptic AU: Team ZIT's strongest evidence for Grian is the fact he's a master with an elytra, especially since he first said he "might use it a little bit" for long journeys. He's flown into a dark hole in a dark wall that's barely big enough to fit him multiple times, with ease, among other risky stunts that would get other hermits killed. The fact there's not much else to go on, besides his pranking zeal only matched by Zed himself, drives them up the wall

- Cryptic AU: when you stay out too long at night, you might start to feel watched. You'll turn around and nobody is there, but still you feel eyes on your back, and the breeze always seems hot and brushes your neck like too-close breathing and a hand. Finally, you catch it: a familiar figure that stands too stiffly, always just too far away to name. Then it vanishes with an airy shriek, and phantoms descend from the stars. Bdubs did always say the worst things happen in the night.

- Cryptic AU: Impulse's smiles are just a little too big. If you look at one too long, you feel as though it's stretching wider and wider, the cheery shine in his eyes twisting into a hungry gleam, but then you blink and he's back to normal ol Impulse and you question if you really saw anything. That time you saw his smile glinting in the darkness just beyond your bed must've been a nightmare. Your imagination.

- Cryptic AU: Don't look into his eyes. Look in, and you will see the universes. Billions of stars, trillions of futures, all impossibly swirling together, hauntingly beautiful. You'll fall down, down, down through the glittering spirals, until with a breathtaking snap you're on your knees, on solid ground. You're lucky he doesn't want to keep you, like others might. The lives and worlds you glimpsed will echo through your mind, weave through your dreams. Do not fear. Do not look into his eyes.

- The mountain is his territory. If you enter it unbidden, he will ensure you leave, lucky to keep your life. His contraptions are nonsense, seeming to serve no purpose other than to confuse. They distract from how the air crackles on your skin, how it tastes of storms and thunder. They distract how, from the corner of your eye, Zedaph's limbs are too long, fingers with too many knuckles and legs with too many knees. All angles and bones, like his designs. Do not look too closely at his garden.

- Everyone learned not to ask about him. Mostly because in trying to form the question, you'll find the words slipping from your mind. So Tango's hair burns, his eyes are red cherries. In the darkness he glows, the embers of a forgotten fire. His skin is always hot, almost feverish, yet he isnt sick. If he gets too close to lava, the illusion fades, reveals the magma that forms his skin. Illusion? No, that was just a burn. He relishes the smoke and rubble of explosions. Control. Always controlled.

- xB doesn't mind being away from the other hermits. It's quiet there; far enough away that most aren't bothered to prank him. He doesn't like surprises. Surprises get people hurt. Gets his friends hurt. His guardians appreciate the still predictability. The calm. Yes, he prefers to sit back, quiet, and watch. If he looks too long, bad things happen. So he observes it all, never focusing too much on one detail, never letting them go unseen. It prevents surprises.

- Because that last one wasn't all that clear, xB is a guardian-based cryptid! While nothing seems inhuman about him at a glance, he has a close affinity to water, and when threatened the spines he hides with his clothes will stick out. (Guardians only spawn in water, but they actually don't suffocate in air! Though their desperate flopping is a sad sight to behold) Plus, laser-eyes

- Xisuma wasn't always able to change his form as easily or drastically as he can now. But by now, he's forgotten his own face. Now, he'll feel his skin, his body begin to itch with the need to change. He's glad the hermits don't seem to care when he does. Keralis's mimicry was a surprise, but a welcome one. He feels less alone. Loneliness is how he would lose himself. He's scared of that possibility.

- When he sleeps, he walks through the minds of those whose eyes met his, as if it were his own dream. He'll hear their thoughts as if they were his own. He doesn't like this. It feels like an invasion. He feels like a parasite, and maybe he is. Whoever he dreamed through last, they seem exhausted and jumpy after, while he feels energized, near invincible. It's through this ability he knows their deepest secrets, but they aren't his to tell. Sometimes, he wishes he could understand. (Xisuma pt 2)

- Cryptid AU: another reason that Grian cant possibly be a human is his clothes. Just. How does he have something for every occasion. He even has a janitor one? Why did he have that? This "man" doesn't own a single closet yet has at least 20 different costumes-- not to mention you blink and he's changed! Wh- he had a REAPER costume for himself AND SCAR???

- @/basaltdragon

- Cryptid AU: Grian used to be against cryptids because of Sam (YHS) and his bunny attributes, but has since accepted the fact Sam was just a bad apple, and cryptids as a whole are neutral/good.

- Your heart, it beats, like redstone ticking away within you. He knows redstone through and through... so why not you too? Every pulse sent though the machine of your body is one more reason for him to reverse engineer you. But he restrains, takes a step back, as these machines could never be put back together.

- He's been here since the beginning; not of Hermitcraft, but everything. Watching as the game evolved over the years... He smiles at the thought. His hair now matching his eyes - like harsh reflective snow - he recalls these memories fondly. As his eyes fade to their piercing blue, he sighs, for this is home.

- When any of the other Hermits (at least the ones with blood) get injured, Mumbo has to step away. The need for their blood, their lifeforce, is too overwhelming.

- @/12u3ie

- Cryptid AU: with the team ZIT headquarters I thought of something similar to the TEA headquarters from season 3. Probably more confusing, colourful and chock full of even more excessive redstone doors. Why not add another elevator? Where's the coffee machine? Maybe the next room over? Was that corridor there before? I don't know. What's the use of that room? What's behind that door? What's behind you?

- Cryptid AU: with the whole burning hair thing on Tango, another explanation for why no one questions it. That's just Hermitcraft, people just assume he either royally messed up a redstone machine, or succeeded completely, you never know with Tango. Or maybe they think they're sleep deprived. They haven't slept in a while, Bdubs has been reminding them to do so. What were they doing? Maybe they should go home instead. Whatever they were doing can probably be done later. What were they doing?

- @/the-royal-bat-snake

- If joe is a changing then he is some kind of fae folk or as the irish and the Scots call them "the good neighbours" he could like anything, from a human, a small man, like knee height or a small green impish or goblin esque creature. Also changlings were the very old fae folk, not just the babies (humma women were stolen to be nurse maids cus fae folk cant make milk, also stolen to be mistresses) I know a lot of irish faerie lore so if you want to know anymore

- @/whatschooldoesntteachyou

#hcraft #hermitcraftheadcanons #hermitcraft #hermitblr #mod shade #au raffle #cryptid au #hermitcraft server

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zrtranscripts · 3 years

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Home Front, Mission 15: Phil & Zoe’s Cinderella Story

Once Upon a Workout

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Hello, ci-ti-zens, and welcome back to Radio Lock-In. I know last time it was Radio Phil, but since Zoe’s contributing via ROFFLEnet from the kennel where she's riding out the zombie horde, this felt a bit more apt. Also less likely to end in my having to fend off an attack by a pack of trained murder cats. Not that that's something I worry about late at night or anything. [laughs]

Anyway, it's time to start your warm-ups. Running on the spot, bit of stretching, whatever floats your boat. Oh, um, and uh, grab a yoga mat or um, large towel. You're going to be needing them. Because today, Radio Lock-In has a special treat: your very own Phil and Zoe-style fairy tale, with music breaks, ministry workouts, and a few minor updates to one of Ye Olde classic tales.

Uh, why fairy tales, you may ask? Well, obviously Zoe's a fan, what with all the talking cartoon animals in the Disney versions. But um, I just find them comforting. Have done since I was a kid. They're simple. Good wins, evil is vanquished, love is eternal, and magic is real. Well, I don't know about you, but all that sounds really good right now.

So without further ado, drum roll please! [taps hands rapidly on knees and makes a cymbal crash sound with his mouth] Cinderella! Or as Zoe calls it, the one with the posh outfits and the horse mice and in need of a rewrite from someone who has a better sense of women's shoe sizes.

But before we get to that, we'll start our story the way Cinderella starts hers: cleaning while wishing she was at a ball. Grab the nearest household item you can find and dance away while I play an appropriately jaunty tune. Ready? Dance!

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Wonderful! Now to catch you up, as our tale opens, everyone's looking forward to a lavish royal ball in the kingdom of... whatever it's called. But Cinderella can't go. Instead of dancing, her stepmother forces her to constantly tidy up.

I'll be honest, this sounds a lot like what I did as an excuse to get out of school discos. Well, at least until I learned a few slick dance moves from Daniel “Snake Leg” Simons. And uh, no, Zoe, I will not be showing you the patented Simons kick and slither. Luckily, Cinderella has her own snake legs: a fairy godmother who will whisk her away to the ball with some special fairy dust magic.

We'll be helping the fairy godmother out by distributing magic dust of our own with a few uppercuts! Get into a magic stance. Boxing stance, really, but we're in a story here. Stand with your feet shoulder-width apart, your knees slightly bent, fists up as if you're holding tight to a handful of fairy dust. Now you're ready for your magic uppercut. Rotate your body towards the arm in front and punch upwards with your back fist. Magic! Now rotate back to your starting position and you're ready for your next uppercut of magic.

I'd say it'll take about one minute to get Cinderella ready for the ball, so get to uppercutting. Start now. 15 seconds in. The dirty rags have transformed into a dress. Halfway there. The old pumpkin has become a magic carriage. Switch legs so that your other one is in front and keep the magic coming. Only 15 seconds left to go. The mice are horses now! All she needs are magic shoes! Let's turn those everyday shoes into glass slippers.

All done! Time to admire your handiwork. Feel free to keep doing magic uppercuts during this song or just twirl around as you do your own imaginary transformation.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Now fully transformed, Cinderella heads to the ball, which I'd call a glamorous spectacle of light and gold and at least four different types of hors-doeuvres, but Zoe considers to be probably pretty boring, what with all the ball gowns and lack of a proper DJ.

Yeah, I'm fairly sure our Zoe always spent a lot of her youth in roller discos and is probably holding our imaginary ball to unreasonably high standards. But in honor of her anti-ball sentiments, we'll do some wall sits, just like the bored ball-goers.

For this, you'll need a wall that you can stand in front of. Stand with your back to the wall and lean back until your back is pressed against it, but you're still standing upright. Adjust your feet so that they’re shoulder-width apart and about a step in front of the wall, then slide your back down the wall until your thighs and calves make 90 degree angles with your back, head, and backside still against the wall.

We're gonna stay like that for 60 seconds, if we can, starting now. 15 seconds in. Why Zolinda, so lovely to see you here this evening. Halfway done. I know, such a boring ball. I'm too tired to even eat these delicious cheese canapes. Just 15 seconds to go. At least the prince is looking well. Maybe he'll meet his bride tonight, who decides to turn to a parliamentary system of rule! And done.

Stand back up and shake out those legs. A mysterious stranger has just entered the ballroom. Spoiler, it's Cinderella. All right, Cinderellas, I'll play an entrance song and you can do your best glass slippered red carpet walk, or another round of wall sits if you'd like. I'm gonna have some of those imaginary canapes. They imaginary sound imaginary delicious.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: And we're back. Just in time. Cinderella is now in the middle of an exciting tango with the prince, who wants to know more about her. Uh, naturally, per Zoe, they take the opportunity to have an in-depth conversation about ruling a kingdom in a way that allows for the voice of the people to be heard, gender equality, and whether avocado is a fruit, all while dipping and sashaying.

But uh, just as Cinderella is coming up with the excellent idea to test avocados’ fruitiness by putting it on toast, the clock begins to strike midnight. [a bell chimes twice] Once it hits 12 AM, all of that fairy magic will disappear, so Cinderella has to make a run for it.

That means it's time for high knees. Run in place, bringing your knees up with each step as if you're running back to your carriage before the clock strikes midnight. Let's go, starting now. 15 seconds in. You've made it out the front door of the palace, expertly dodging the guards. Halfway there. Uh, you're at the top of the longest flight of stairs ever. Head to the bottom. Only 15 seconds left to go. You've made it down the stairs, leaving a glass slipper behind in the process. That's okay, your carriage is just ahead. Made it! Now it's time to head home and pretend you've been cleaning all night. Practice looking casual yet hard-working during this next song.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: We're almost to the end of our tale. It's the next day and no one suspects that Cinderella was the previous evening's it girl, the talk of the town, the belle of the, well, ball. The prince, who Zoe notes foolishly left his glasses off while dancing and therefore couldn't see the face of the woman he fell for, is searching for her by trying to fit the glass slipper on everyone he sees. Uh, according to Zoe, that is only the fifth worst way to pick a potential mate, but she says she will not reveal one through four except to say that one of them involves lime jelly and exactly 16 eels.

And with that somewhat discomforting thought, let's help our prince out with some knee folds. They're just like lifting your foot for a shoe fitting. More or less, anyway. Start by lying down on your back. Grab your yoga mat or towel to put underneath you so you've got something comfortable to lie on. Now bring your knees up so that they’re bent and the soles of your feet are flat on the floor and your toes are pointing straight forward. Your arms should be by your sides, your shoulders relaxed and chest open. [sighs] Relaxing right?

Now as you inhale, use your abdominal muscles to lift your right leg off the floor while keeping your hips against the ground. Keep your knees bent and lift your leg until your thigh is at a 90 degrees angle from your body and your lower leg is parallel with the floor. They call this table position because, well, it looks like your lower legs are the top of a table. Now exhale as you lower your leg back down to the floor. Now do the same with your left leg, and continue alternating for the next minute.

Go! These aren't meant to be fast kicks. Keep the movement slow and controlled. Imagine someone trying endless shoes on your feet. 15 seconds in, but all the feet that the glass slipper has been tried on are too wide! Keep going. Halfway through, and now the feet are too narrow! 15 seconds of feet left to try. You're almost there. Done. That's it, that's the one. You've found Cinderella! And now you deserve a break. Shoe fitting and storytelling are both hard work. I'll put on a nice cooldown song so you can stretch out your muscles from all that fairy taling.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: And that's the story of a very active Cinderella. Fun! I almost forgot we were exercising. And Zoe says it went off more or less without a hitch, even if I did leave off a detailed epilogue about Cinderella teaming up with the fairy godmother to create a magical haute couture fashion line. Uh, she says half the fun of fairy tales is that they're so simple that you get to add your own spin to it, make the story your own. Works for me, as long as we still get to throw in a happily ever after. I miss those.

Anyway, let us know on ROFFLEnet if you like fairy tales as much as we do and we'll put our heads together to come up with another. Maybe... Rapunzel. [laughs] I definitely feel like I can relate to someone who spends half her life trapped in a tower and is rapidly growing a very distressing amount of hair. Whatever we do pick and however we remix it, I have to say, there's still something comforting about retelling a classic. These stories have lasted hundreds of years, through war and disease and love and zombies, and if they can keep going, so can we.

#zombies run #zr home front #zrhf 15 #phil and zoe's cinderella story #zr transcript

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callboxkat · 4 years

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Second Chances part 8: The Visit (2 of 2)

Author’s note: The second half is here! I hope you guys enjoy it! :)

Summary: Between some difficulty getting along with his coworkers and his quickly approaching visit with his parents, Roman has a lot on his mind. He can only hope that things will turn out well

Warnings: fear of being rejected, arguing, food mention, death mention, knife mention, injury mention, blood mention, Remus mention, accidental misgendering, some Spanish but not a lot

Word count: 7310

Second Chances Masterpost!

Writing Masterpost!

...

It was sunset by the time the bus pulled into its destination.

Roman stared out the window at the station as they approached, searching the small crowd for familiar faces. He wasn’t quite sure whether or not he wanted to find them.

As the bus came to a stop, Roman turned away from the window and slid Logan’s book back into the suitcase, zipped that shut, and picked it up. He waited for everyone ahead of him to file off of the bus, and then followed suit, clutching the flower pot to his chest.

His legs might have been shaking rather badly, but he did his best to ignore that fact.

His shoes hit the asphalt, and a cool wind ruffled his hair. He breathed in deeply and stepped up onto the curb, searching the crowd.

He thought he recognized a few people, people he’d perhaps gone to high school with or seen around town when he was younger; but it was entirely possible that he was simply feeling paranoid, like the earlier incident at the café.

He walked through the crowd, feeling very nervous and rather lost. As the seconds passed with no sign of his parents, he was beginning to think that maybe they had changed their minds, that maybe they had decided they didn’t want to see him after all, that maybe he’d made a mistake in thinking that he’d get to just see them again after lying to them and disappearing for so long.

And then he saw them.

They were about twenty feet away, watching what Roman realized was the wrong bus. Both of them had more gray hairs than Roman remembered, and his dad looked thinner, but it was them. It was really them. A rush of excitement went through his body… only to be instantly overwhelmed by fear.

Roman stared at them, suddenly unable to move.

Just then, Roman’s mamá turned, and she saw him.

There was no anger on her face, only joy as she gasped, running for him.

Roman let out a laugh that may or may not have strongly resembled a sob, and jogged towards his parents before he could overthink things any more.

“Dad! Mamá!”

People were quick to get out of the way, even if they griped about it; and then she was hugging him; and she smelled just like the same combination of cinnamon and perfume that she always did; and Roman was crying.

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” he said, needing to say it again, to their faces. His mamá shushed him, kissed him on either cheek, then just held his head between her hands, searching his face. Her eyes were filled with tears.

“Mijo,” she whispered. “Mijo, mijo, estás aquí.”

“I’m here,” he assured her, his voice breaking.

“Maybe we should go to the car,” Roman’s dad said, standing to the side. “We’re making a scene.”

Roman’s mamá sniffled, nodding. “Yes, yes, of course—you are right.” She pulled back from the hug slightly. “Oh, you are so thin….”

She reluctantly released him, but kept one of Roman’s hands in a firm grip as they made their way out of the crowd and away from the bus station.

“Oh—um, I got this for you.”

His mamá paused, apparently only then noticing the small, flowering plant that Roman had barely managed not to drop or allow to get squashed during their hug.

“For me?” she repeated.

Roman nodded.

“Thank you, mijo. Las flores son bonitas.”

“They’re forget-me-nots.”

“Oh, I would never forget you.”

Roman smiled, ducking his head slightly. “And Dad, I….” He fished a small box out of his pocket and handed it over. “This is for you.”

“I’ll open it in the car,” his dad promised, giving him a side-hug. They started walking again.

“We drove here together,” his mamá said. “We both wanted to ride back with you.”

Roman frowned, and he took only a few more steps before coming to a stop. “Why—why wouldn’t you have driven here together?”

His parents glanced at each other, and then back at him. His mamá reached up and rubbed his back.

“Roman,” his dad began, avoiding looking at either of them, “you have to understand, it’s been a long time since you left.”

Roman glanced between them. He realized he couldn’t feel the ring on his mamá’s finger where she gently rubbed his back. “Wait. No.” Please don’t let them say what I think they’re going to say.

His dad let out a long, weary sigh. “We got divorced two years ago.”

“We wanted to tell you in person, cariño,” his mamá added. “We decided it wasn’t a… phone conversation.”

Roman didn’t know what to say. Except, very softly… “Was it my fault?”

They glanced at each other again.

“No,” his mamá said. “No, Roman. It was… it was a lot of things.”

Roman wasn’t sure he quite believed her, but he just nodded and allowed himself to be led to the car. It was his mamá’s car, the same one he remembered. The tassel Roman had worn at his high school graduation no longer hung from the mirror. He forced himself not to read into that.

He got in the backseat, and they drove.

…

Being back in his home town was strange.

A lot had changed in the five years he’d been gone. Things looked older, there were new buildings where there had once been empty lots (or different buildings), and there were empty lots where other buildings had once been.

Most of it, though, looked just the same, which was somehow stranger than what had changed.

It took him a while to realize that the car wasn’t going the way he would have expected to get to his parents’ house. He didn’t mention it, though. The atmosphere in the car was rather awkward, and Roman was content to stare out the window rather than break the silence just yet. After their initial greetings, and the bombshell of breaking the news of the divorce to Roman, no one had seemed sure of what to say to each other.

There had been one brief respite, when Roman’s dad had opened his gift. He had been impressed when he saw the ancient coin that Val had helped Roman pick out. But that conversation had only lasted so long, and they fell back into quietness again.

What did you say to your parents after lying about going to college, disappearing for five years, becoming homeless, and then one day calling them out of the blue to tell them that you were not, in fact, dead?

Yeah, Roman didn’t know, either. “Sorry” probably didn’t cut it.

Sure, they’d been talking on the phone every night for over a week since then; but this was different. This was in person.

The changed route made sense when they reached their destination: It was not the house he and his parents had lived in when he was younger. Of course it wasn’t—he should have realized. Why would his parents still share a home, if they were divorced? And why would one of them pay to live alone in a home built for four? Neither case made sense.

He didn’t recognize the house they pulled up to. It was a small, modest home, painted a pastel yellow. Hostas lined the walkway up to the door, which was a pale gray. Flowerbeds decorated both sides of the house, filled with various flourishing plants. A small, frosted window was set into the door. It was a cute house, Roman had to admit.

“This is your mamá’s place,” his dad said, sounding unsure of how Roman would react. “We’ve set up the guest room for you.”

Roman stared at the house for a long moment before he unbuckled his seatbelt. His dad grabbed the little suitcase, and they all went inside.

Roman’s dad turned to his ex-wife as they entered the house. “Is it alright if I take him to his room?”

“Of course,” Roman’s mamá replied, locking the door behind them. “I will come with you.”

They walked upstairs. Roman’s mamá opened the second door, and Roman stepped through it, into….

His room.

It was his room.

Everything was arranged how it had been in the old house, down to the placement of the posters on the walls and the pillows on the bed. He bet that if he checked the dresser drawers, the clothes he hadn’t brought to “college” would be there. It was much cleaner than Roman had ever kept his room as a kid; and some of his knick-knacks and toys appeared to be missing; but he could see some boxes under the bed; and he guessed he could find them there. Small details like that aside, the similarity was striking.

“You kept my things,” he finally said, sounding rather shell-shocked.

“Of course we did,” his mamá said. “I… we always hoped… you might come back,” she admitted.

Roman rubbed at his eyes. “Oh,” he said, his voice cracking.

“We’ve missed you,” his dad said from the doorway.

“If there is anything you want to take, you can,” his mamá said. “It is all still yours, after all.”

Roman sat down on the bed. The sheets felt freshly washed.

“Took a while to get everything just right,” his dad was saying. “The room dimensions are a little different than the old one. I think we got it, though.”

“Yeah,” Roman said softly, looking around. “You did.”

It was strange.

“So, your mamá and I were thinking of making encebollado soup tonight,” his dad said, changing the subject. He set down Roman’s borrowed suitcase on the floor, beside the desk.

Roman looked over at him, daring to smile. “Since when do you know how to make encebollado?”

“Okay, your mamá was thinking of making it.”

“I would appreciate some help, if you want to give it,” his mamá tempted.

“I’d love to,” Roman said, and he meant it.

…

Roman and his mamá split the work of cutting everything up for the encebollado, including the fish, onions, tomatoes, and yuca.

Once that was done, Roman’s mamá took care of putting everything together into the soup, adding pickled onions and plenty of spices.

Meanwhile, Roman was put to work cutting up the avocado and limes, as well as the plantains for a side dish. He put the sliced avocado and quartered limes each into a bowl and set those at the table before returning to cook the slices of plantain.

“Not too long, mijo,” His mamá said, watching. “They could burn.”

“I like mine crispy,” he reminded her.

(That brief exchange felt so much like one they might have had years ago, before everything changed, that Roman froze for a second, and had to minutely shake himself to get back to what he was doing.)

“It smells amazing,” his dad chimed in. He was mainly serving as a cheerleader where he sat at the kitchen table, commenting on how great everything looked and smelled. He wasn’t a great cook, and Roman’s mamá didn’t trust him to operate a cutting board. Probably for good reason.

Roman glanced up to see him stealing an avocado slice.

“Hey, I saw that,” he said, his heart beating faster as he tried to take on a joking tone.

Thankfully, his dad just smirked. “Saw what?” he asked, taking another slice.

Roman pointed the spatula at him as if in warning, narrowing his eyes.

His dad stuck the avocado slice in his mouth and smiled. Roman gasped as if affronted by his audacity.

Roman’s mamá seemed amused (and possibly relieved) by their antics. “How was your trip, mijo?” she asked, stirring the soup. Roman’s dad was right. It did smell amazing.

“It was fine,” Roman said. “The bus driver was really nice, and I got a window seat.” He flipped over the plantains he was cooking. “Pat and Logan dropped me off,” he added, smiling a little. “They were waving goodbye even as we were pulling away.”

“They seem like good friends,” his mamá said approvingly.

“They are,” Roman agreed. He didn’t deserve them.

…

After dinner, which was only about a quarter of the way as awkward as Roman had feared it would be, Roman’s dad took his plate to the sink, squeezing his son’s shoulder on the way.

“I have to go, but I’ll be back in the morning, okay?”

“Okay,” Roman said. He watched his dad as he walked into the kitchen, rinsed off his bowl and set it in the sink, and went to grab his coat.

“Bye,” he said.

“Bye,” said Roman.

“Chau,” said his mamá.

The door closed, and Roman’s mamá, who was loading the dishwasher, paused, clearly thinking about something. Roman watched her, starting to grow worried. As he’d expected, she turned to him.

“May I show you something?”

Roman, still sitting down at the table, shifted uncertainly; but he wasn’t going to refuse. “Claro, Mamá.”

She nodded, and walked over to a different part of the kitchen counter. “Some months after you disappeared,” she said, retrieving something from a drawer, “we received a phone call.”

Roman frowned.

She hovered behind the counter, looking down at whatever it was she had taken out. “It was from the police department in a city called Clearwater. They said that they had received a 911 call from someone who reported anonymously that a group of men had attacked a man under a bridge.”

Roman forgot how to breathe.

He knew exactly what she was talking about.

Those men. Their laughter. Their accusations. A knife, gleaming in the night.

The thin scar just under his jaw felt like it had been outlined in ice. His ribs and his tongue ached in memory.

They’re gone. You got away, he reminded himself. If they were going to find you and kill you, or send the police after you, it would have happened a long time ago.

He squeezed his hands together, and he waited.

His mamá hadn’t seemed to notice his reaction, too distracted by her own thoughts. “They said that by the time they got the call, no one was there.” She took a shuddering breath. “That there was only garbage, and… blood.” There were tears in her eyes. “And this.”

She walked back to the table, holding a clear plastic bag. She sat down and slid the bag over to Roman. Inside was a broken phone, the corner of it bent, with cracks spread across the screen, and in a case broken in two. A few small pieces of glass that had come free sat at the bottom of the bag.

It was Roman’s old phone.

“They were able to get some of the data off of it, and find out it was yours.” She let out a shaky exhale. “The police returned it to us because it technically belonged to your dad.”

Roman stared down at the phone.

“This is all we had, for nearly five years,” she said. “We told the police to look for you, but they said that there was nothing they could do. We went to Clearwater ourselves, for a week, to try to find you… but we couldn’t.” She paused for a second, apparently decided against saying something, then continued, “We were afraid that… that they had” —she swore in Spanish—“that they had killed you, and… you were gone.”

“I left,” Roman murmured. “I couldn’t stay; I….” He shook his head. The why didn’t matter. “Mamá, I’m sorry.”

His mamá looked at him. “May I ask what happened?”

Roman subconsciously rubbed a hand across his jaw, over the scar there. “It’s not important,” he said. “Some jerks decided to mess with me, because I was there, and they could. But I’m okay. It was a long time ago.”

“Cariño… I did want to know that, but I meant….”

Roman looked away. She meant why he had disappeared in the first place, of course. How he had ended up homeless, and why he hadn’t tried to ask for help before it was well past too late.

He’d already told Logan and Patton most of the story, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to tell his family. Especially since he suspected that—assuming they believed him—they would think it was their fault, if they knew some of the details. He’d only told them the basics up until then—the fact that Saint Gabriel had retracted their offer of admission, that Roman hadn’t wanted to tell his parents, and that he’d run out of money after leaving home and ended up on the street. But they didn’t know much more than that about the reasons why that had happened in the first place. Or why he’d been so against telling them about being in trouble.

The seconds were ticking by, and Roman still hadn’t said anything.

She studied his face for a long moment, as if deciding whether to push the issue, or to let it go. Finally, she nodded to herself, and she took his hands in hers. “When I heard your voice on the phone, I was so sure it was a cruel joke. But it was really you. You are here.”

Roman’s eyes flicked back towards her, and he gave her a watery smile.

“You have no idea how happy it makes me to see you again.”

“I thought you’d be furious with me,” Roman said, his voice cracking.

“I was,” she admitted. “You know that I was.”

Roman recalled their first phone call with a wince. There had been… quite a bit of yelling, on that call, once she’d been convinced that it was really him on the phone. He didn’t blame her, though. Five years was a long time to go without any word, especially since he had disappeared without any warning.

“But I love you, and your brother,” she said. “And that will not change, whatever your mistakes.”

Roman swallowed hard. A second or two passed in silence.

“…Could we have hot chocolate?” he asked.

“With cinnamon?”

“Yes, please.”

…

Roman stood in front of his old over-the-door mirror, staring at the loose folds of fabric that draped over his thin frame.

After his conversation with his mamá, Roman had come upstairs to the guest room—to his room. Or to the room that eerily mimicked his room, anyway.

Simply to pass the time and definitely not as a way to nostalgically relive the past, and since all his old things were right there, he decided to try on a few of his old clothes and see if they still fit how they used to.

Unsurprisingly, they didn’t.

Well, it wasn’t that they didn’t fit, exactly. Technically, they still fit. But they were a lot looser than Roman remembered them being. The pants he had on might not have stayed up if it weren’t for the belt he wore.

Roman put his hands in the pockets, frowning.

He wondered how this outfit would have fit during the worst days of his homelessness. There had been some… rough times.

He’d never been very good at being homeless.

Roman shook his head, deciding not to dwell on that. He was supposed to be moving on with his life, wasn’t he? He wasn’t homeless anymore, and he wasn’t alone. He had Logan, and Patton, and Val, and his parents. He was fine. The past didn’t matter anymore.

He pulled the shirt back over his head and threw it on the bed with a bit more vehemence than was strictly required. Instead, he picked up the one he’d had on before, one that Logan and Patton had gotten him, and pulled it back on. He changed back into his better-fitted jeans, moved the discarded shirt, and sat down on the bed. He stared for a long moment at the still-open drawer of the dresser, and the neatly folded clothes within.

A thought came to him, and he got back up, looking in the closet. It probably wasn’t there, but just in case, Roman figured there was no harm in checking. He stood on his tip-toes, searching.

His old duffel bag sat on the shelf, just about where it would have been in Roman’s old room. Roman snatched it and pulled it down.

Maybe his old clothes were rather loose; and he didn’t particularly want some of the old t-shirts emblazoned with logos for bands he’d never been a fan of in the first place; but he could still wear most of the clothes. And his parents had said that he could take whatever he wanted from the room.

Roman unzipped the duffel bag and started stuffing clothes in. Even if they were too big now, they might fit better eventually. And for every shirt he could keep from his old things, that was one less shirt he would have to buy for himself later on (or worse, have bought for him).

The half-full duffel bag joined the small blue suitcase on the floor, and Roman went to bed. He would have expected to lie there, awake, for hours, overthinking the next day; but he fell asleep too fast.

…

It turned out that Roman’s parents had gone ahead and made plans for what they and Roman would do over the long weekend. It seemed that they really wanted to make up for lost time, judging by the packed days.

Saturday morning, they went to the local park, revisiting old haunts that Roman hadn’t seen in a long time. The duck pond, the reservoir, the fountain, the old trees and picnic tables where the family used to have picnics when Roman and his brother were kids.

Almost all of the meals Roman had that weekend were homemade—save for when they stopped for ice cream at the mall, or Saturday evening, when Roman’s dad insisted that they go to Olive Garden to celebrate. Apparently he’d gotten a gift card a while back and was looking forward to using it. In any case, all of the meals were rather large. Roman’s mamá made so much food, it was as if she were trying to get her son to gain back all the weight he’d lost over the years within just that one weekend.

…

On Sunday, they were planning to go to the zoo. Roman came downstairs to find that both of his parents were already there, presumably waiting for him. His dad must have come early, so that they could get out the door and have more time at the zoo. Except… something seemed off. They each had plates of breakfast set out in front of them, but the food appeared almost untouched. Roman paused, wondering what was going on. Clearly, he was missing something.

His mamá looked like she was trying not to cry. His dad looked like he was trying to decide whether to be horrified or enraged.

Roman considered just going back upstairs, and “sleeping in” until whatever was going on was over. He took a hesitant step back.

“Roman.”

Too late.

His dad had spotted him, and was beckoning him over. Roman very reluctantly shuffled nearer.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” his mamá said.

Roman glanced between them. “What’s going on?” he asked, hoping he wouldn’t regret the question too much.

His parents glanced at each other. His mamá looked slightly guilty.

His dad cleared his throat. “Your mamá, ah… told me some new information,” he said.

“He needed to know,” she added.

Why did Roman feel like he was about to get in trouble?

“She told me what you told her. About the phone, and Clearwater.”

“…But I didn’t tell her anything,” Roman said, frowning.

Unsurprisingly, they didn’t appear happy with that impulsive response.

“You told her enough,” his dad said.

Roman stared between them. All he had told them was that some jerks had been mean to him, and that he had left the city afterwards to get away from them. How was that any new information? They had already known that his phone had been left behind after some guys had attacked him, and….

Wait.

His mamá had said “a man”. She had said a group of men had attacked “a man”.

Roman gripped the back of the nearest chair.

No. They couldn’t have thought….

“You thought I was one of the guys who attacked someone?” he said, his voice like a dry desert breeze.

“No, mijo, no—”

“Yes, you did!” Roman said, taking a step back. He stared at his dad with wide eyes. “You did, didn’t you?”

“We didn’t know what had happened,” his dad said. “We didn’t know anything, or what to think.”

Roman tried to speak, failed, and shook his head.

A long silence fell, and then his mamá said, “Perhaps… we had almost hoped you were. It was better than thinking you had been….”

His dad sighed. “We’d rather you had been a criminal than dead,” he reluctantly admitted.

“Well, I’m not dead,” Roman said bitterly.

“No, you’re not,” his mamá said. Roman noticed with a sinking heart that she was crying now.

His dad leaned forward. “Roman, what happened? Who were those people who attacked you? Why were you there in the first place?”

Roman squeezed his eyes shut.

“Please. Something happened. Why would those people attack you for no reason?”

Roman’s nails bit into his hands. Maybe it wasn’t on purpose, but his dad was making it sound like it was automatically his fault he was attacked. (Which, okay, maybe it was, but the assumption still hurt).

“Roman—”

“I messed up, okay?!” Roman cried, fisting his hands in his hair. “I messed up, and I was—I was just hungry, okay? And those guys found me, and they—they had a knife, what was I supposed to do? I just—I was just trying to—” Roman turned away, his breaths coming in heavy gasps. He kept stammering, hardly knowing what he was saying, just trying to say that it wasn’t his fault and that he was sorry and he’d just run away like a coward because he had no choice and why did they even care about something that happened so long ago and why would they ever think he’d been one of those thugs—

He was suddenly crushed in a hug.

Roman’s stammering broke off, and he buried his face in his mamá’s shoulder.

“Breathe, cariño, please,” she murmured. “Todo está bien, te prometo.”

She held him like that until he had mostly calmed down, and then she gently led him to the living room, where she sat him down on the couch and wrapped him in a blanket, taking her place beside him. She put a hand on his back, occasionally murmuring reassurances.

But his dad kept staring at him.

“This isn’t really news, is it?” Roman said eventually, breaking the silence and steadfastly ignoring the way his voice threatened to give out. “I already told you I was homeless. I messed up. Why is it any big shock that I messed up again?” And again, and again, and again.

“You just said that you were attacked, with a knife,” his dad said. “You could have died!”

Roman shrank into his blanket. “I didn’t.”

“But you could have. And I’m sure there’s other things that happened that you’re not even telling us about—God, five years. It’s been five years. Roman, why didn’t you just talk to us? We could have helped you! You could have stopped all of this before it started.”

His mamá looked at her ex-husband. “James, stop."

Roman worked his jaw. “I did try to tell you, but….”

“But what?”

“But you didn’t believe me! I tried to tell you, I tried to tell you I didn’t plagiarize, but you didn’t believe me. So why would you believe me about anything else? You already think I’m just like Remus.”

“Roman….”

“You do! You do. I know it’s true. Mamá told me, but she didn’t have to.”

His dad’s eyes flicked to Roman’s mamá, who closed her eyes in resignation. “She told you what?”

“That you were angry with me, that you said it was only a matter of time before something like this happened. She said that—that—that I probably ran off to get away from you guys and join a gang or something.”

“I didn’t say you’d joined a gang.”

“But I know what you think of me, what you’ve always thought of me. But, Dad, I’m not him. Please. I’m not Remus.”

“Roman, if you’re trying to say I don’t love you, that’s not true. I love you a lot. If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t care.”

“No—no, I know you love me. You love him too. That’s not what this is about.” He looked away, swallowing painfully. “You love me, yeah, but you’ve never trusted me. Not really.” He took a shaky breath. “And I just couldn’t… I could see the looks on your faces when I told you I wasn’t going to Saint Gabriel. I couldn’t.”

A long silence fell.

“I’m going upstairs,” Roman croaked. He got up, ignoring his mamá’s protests, and walked past his dad, who just stared at him, clearly still trying to figure out what to say. Roman didn’t give him that chance. He kept going, hurried up the stairs, and fled into his room. He quietly closed and locked the door, and sat down on the bed, staring at the floor, the blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders.

Morning turned to early afternoon. Roman didn’t leave his room. He heard voices occasionally. It sounded like his parents had decided to give him some space.

Finally, around 1 pm, he heard someone coming up the steps, and there was a knock on the door. It was his dad.

“Roman?” he asked through the door. “Please open up.”

Roman swallowed, not moving.

“Roman, I’m sorry.”

The floorboards creaked.

“I believe you,” he continued. “If you say you didn’t plagiarize, I believe you. Your mamá does, too. We should have believed you before, and I’m sorry we didn’t. I’m sorry you thought you couldn’t come to us for help. And I’m sorry if we ever made you believe we didn’t think you were a good person. We’ve always known you were a good person.”

It was a little too late, but… it was something.

Roman unlocked the door and returned to the bed.

After a second, his dad hesitantly opened the door. He stepped inside, and silently sat down on the bed at Roman’s side.

Roman pulled the blanket more tightly around himself. His dad stared at one of Roman’s posters for a moment, clearly not actually taking it in, then turned to his son.

“…Were you hurt?” he asked softly.

Roman swallowed. “I’m okay now.”

His dad recognized that as a yes, of course. He sighed through his nose, working his jaw. “How badly?”

Roman hesitated, then tilted his head slightly and touched the inch-long scar just under his jaw. It was faded, but he knew his dad could see it.

“Is that from…?”

“Yeah.”

His dad swore. Roman wasn’t sure he’d ever heard him swear like that before.

“Who were they?”

“There’s no point.”

“We could—”

“There’s no point,” Roman insisted tiredly. Even if they had any proof of who it was, and even if Roman knew more than one of their names, and even if it hadn’t already been four and a half years since the attack, there would be no point. It wouldn’t change anything. Not to mention that the whole reason it had happened to begin with was that Roman was a thief, and he could very well end up as the only one in trouble. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

He could tell his dad wanted to argue further, but he let it go.

“Do you want to go back downstairs?” he asked instead. “We could just watch a movie. Have a lazy day. We can go to the zoo some other time.”

Roman bit his lip, then slowly nodded. “Okay.”

His dad got up, and Roman followed him downstairs.

…

Things were better after that. Maybe that conversation hadn’t gone exactly how any of them would have chosen for it to go, but it was clear that they had needed to confront the elephant in the room.

Roman’s mamá apologized, too, once he came downstairs, hugging him tightly and telling him that the only thing that mattered was that he was safe, now.

The rest of the day, they just watched old movies from their collection, and Roman’s mamá played with his hair like she had done when he was very small.

The next day, they still didn’t go to the zoo—maybe a future visit, they decided—and instead went to the mall, where they had fun playing with the puppies at one of the pet stores; and Roman’s dad bought him a couple of books. “For on the bus on Monday,” he claimed, even though there were already books in Roman’s room.

Finally, and yet all too soon, the last day of Roman’s stay had come and gone.

A couple of hours before they had to leave for the bus station, Roman’s mamá came to get him, and she led him downstairs, where his dad waited. His parents sat down at the table, gesturing for Roman to sit down across from them. Once he did, his mamá placed her warm, calloused hands over his own. She opened her mouth, had a false start, then spoke.

“It has been wonderful, having you here for the past few days. I know that not everything was perfect, but I know that it will get better in time.” She took a deep breath. “Mijo, I know that you are planning to go home tonight… and I know that this is a lot to ask, but we were hoping, maybe… you might stay? Here, with us?”

There was a long silence. Roman didn’t know how to respond.

“If you want a week or two, so that your job has some warning, that’s okay,” his dad said, before adding, “We both want you here.”

Roman looked between them.

“…You want me to stay because you think I’m gonna screw up and end up homeless again or something, right?”

“No,” his mamá said firmly. “We want you to stay because we love you. We have missed you, so, so much. We want a chance to try again.”

Roman fell silent again.

He thought of all that his parents had been trying to do these past few days. He thought of the cinnamon hot chocolate, the excursions and movie nights, the big family meals, the not-so-subtle attempts to spoil Roman, and the way his parents seemed to be pretending to still have the same relationship they had always had even though they had been divorced for years. He thought of the guest bedroom, carefully constructed to mirror his old one as exactly as possible. Like a snapshot into a former life. A former life that he couldn’t get back, whether he wanted to or not. And maybe that was okay. He had changed since then. Not necessarily all for the better, but not necessarily all for the worse, either. Going back, pretending he was the same Roman he had been in high school, wasn’t just wishful thinking. It wasn’t realistic; and even if he could do that, it would be a move backwards.

“I think it’s best if I move on with my life,” he said finally. “It won’t do me any good to just go back and pretend the last five years never happened, that nothing’s changed.” He squeezed her hand. “I… I have a job now, and I really like living with Logan and Patton and Val.” And they did want him to come back, he reminded himself. They did. He looked up at his dad. “I do still want to see you guys, though. I’d really like to keep calling you, and visit sometimes, if… if that’s okay.”

His mamá looked sad, but she nodded. “Of course. I understand.”

His dad didn’t look surprised. He laid his hand over his son’s and his ex-wife’s.

Roman smiled shyly. “Plus, we never got to go to the zoo.”

…

When Roman went home, with Patton’s suitcase and his own duffel bag of clothes, Patton and Val came to pick him up. Logan was unfortunately at work, and he couldn’t make it.

As the bus pulled up to the curb, and Roman struggled to blink away his drowsiness (it was a long drive) he saw the pair at the front on the sidewalk. Val looked pretty relaxed, but Patton looked like he was vibrating with apprehension. He was talking to Val, who looked like she was trying to reassure him that everything was fine.

Roman picked up his things, thanked the bus driver, and was one of the first people off the bus.

Patton wormed his way closer, while Roman made his way away from the crowds. As soon as they met, Patton latched onto Roman like a koala bear.

“How’d it go?” Val asked, while Patton was busy trying to crush Roman in a hug.

“It went okay,” Roman said, putting his arms around Patton. He took a deep breath and let it out, smiling. “It went okay.”

Val reached out, and her fingers just barely touched his sleeve before she let her arm fall. “I’m glad.”

Patton finally let go for them to head to the car, already pestering Roman with questions about how his visit had gone, and if he needed to fight anyone or not.

Roman smiled, and he told him about the good parts of his visit. He was sure Patton already knew that there had been hiccups—how could there not have been?—but Roman wanted to focus on what had gone right.

…

On Tuesday, Roman went back to work. He was early, as was becoming his custom, but he showed up only a few minutes before Thomas did. His manager looked perfectly fine, now, so it appeared that whatever had kept him at home for two days the week before had passed. He leaned on his car for a moment before he came in, as always, but he seemed okay.

“Hey, Roman,” he said as he came in, pinning his name tag in place.

��Hey,” Roman responded. He wasn’t sure whether it was bad manners or not to ask his manager if he was feeling better, especially since three days had passed. And he didn’t want Thomas to misinterpret anything. So he didn’t. “How was your weekend?” he asked instead.

“It was good,” Thomas said. “How was yours?”

Roman shrugged. “It was… interesting. But good.”

Just then, the door opened, and Roman glanced up to see Virgil standing there.

Virgil, who was wearing a skirt, and a name tag that said “Rose”.

Otherwise, the outfit under Virgil’s Sanders Café uniform consisted of the barista’s typically emo attire. Black leggings, combat boots, purple nail polish, a distressed long-sleeve shirt, and purple piercings. But instead of jeans, Virgil wore a knee-length, lacy black skirt.

The barista stalked forward, head held high, as if daring anyone to say anything. Thomas just smiled and called out a greeting.

Roman kept glancing at his coworker throughout their shift that day. Virgil was surely aware of it, and maybe it was rude, but Roman couldn’t really help himself. He—She? They?—never said anything about it, but did seem more stiff than usual. But at least Virgil wasn’t being openly hostile. That seemed to have stopped after Roman’s… embarrassing incident, on Friday. Virgil didn’t even comment when Roman bumped into an open, quarter-full milk carton and spilled it across the counter. Thomas noticed too, but he didn’t seem inclined to intervene, instead serving customers like normal while Roman cleaned it up.

Roman glanced at Virgil’s skirt, and remembered several days before, when he’d tried to break the ice with Virgil by making a joke about the “Mary Lee” nametag that the barista wore at the time.

…Roman might have really f*cked up.

He had to know if his guess was correct, but he wasn’t about to ask in front of so many customers, or in font of Thomas.

Finally, there was a break in the crowd; Thomas went in the back for a break; and Roman awkwardly walked over to his coworker.

Virgil tensed immediately, looking suspicious. “What?”

Roman flinched slightly at the tone. “Sorry, I just, um….” He glanced down at Virgil’s skirt. “I just wondered…” he trailed off, gesturing at Virgil, at the skirt and the name tag and the admittedly gorgeous purple lipstick. “Are you…?” God, he was awful at this. He knew exactly what he wanted to ask, but what if he was wrong? What if Virgil got offended at him for even asking? Virgil was already rather volatile to begin with. He didn’t want to break their fragile truce.

Virgil looked unimpressed at Roman’s garbled attempts at a question, arms crossed, an eyebrow cocked as if daring Roman to continue. That wasn’t helpful.

“Are you… Are you a he? Can I call you he? Or is something else… better?” Roman finally got out. He was pretty sure he was the color of a tomato.

Virgil stared at him, looking ready to chew him up and spit him out if he reacted the wrong way. “She,” Virgil finally said in a clipped voice. “It’s a ‘she’ day.”

“Oh,” Roman said. He let out a breath, relieved at not being screamed at. “Okay. Do you want to be called Rose, then, or….?”

Virgil glanced down at the name tag on her lapel, and she actually laughed. “No, no. Virgil will do. This is just one of my collection.”

“Okay. So… if today is a ‘she’ day, does that mean not every day is?”

Virgil pursed her lips. “If you’re asking if you can get away with calling me ‘he’ or ‘they’ every day, the answer’s no.”

“What if I’m not asking that?”

“…Then no, not every day is.” She looked back up then and seemed to be studying Roman’s face. There was a mixture of suspicion and something else in her eyes. Roman shifted uncomfortably. Before either of them could say anything more, the bell over the door rang, and they both snapped back to attention and went back to work.

Various times throughout the remainder of their shift, Roman could feel Virgil’s eyes on him.

Finally, two o’clock came and went, and Virgil and Roman were both in the back, getting ready to leave. Roman took the opportunity to approach his fellow barista. Virgil looked up from her phone as he approached, but didn’t do anything to discourage him from speaking. So Roman cleared his throat.

“Hey, um… about that joke I made a while back, about the “Mary Lee” name tag. I’m really sorry about that. I didn’t know you were… that you weren’t a guy. It was just my stupid attempt to talk with you. I was just fishing for something to say. I’m sorry.”

Virgil stuck her phone in her pocket. “It’s fine,” she said.

“Is it? Because that was pretty sucky of me, I’d say.”

She sighed. “You didn’t know. But I’d appreciate if you didn’t make jokes like that in the future.”

“I won’t. I promise. And if I ever do something stupid again, please tell me.” It would be a lot better than days of hostility without explanation, at any rate.

“Deal.”

Roman felt relief wash over him.

“So…” Virgil said, “how was your family thing?”

“It was good,” Roman said. “We didn’t watch Lord of the Rings or play any video games, though.”

“No? Dang. Weekend wasted.” Virgil shook her head. “Please tell me you at least slept in.”

Roman laughed.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #ts valerie #ts sides #ts roman #ts virgil #ts patton #ts logan #sanders sides fan fiction #ts fic #ts fanfic #fanfiction #ts #tss #second chances fic

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a-milky-strawberry · 4 years

Text

Chanyeol x Reader - Happy Virus (Angst/Fluff)

You didn’t have the… most amazing childhood. Your childhood wasn’t terrible, at least for the most part. The first ten years of your life were amazing. You had a loving mother, a caring father, two wonderful brothers, and an overwhelmingly big family. You came from a close-knit family. There were no secrets, no rumors. Everyone knew everything about family and our friends. However, there are reasons for why you used the term “had” when it came to telling anyone regarding your family. That includes your ‘Happy Virus’ boyfriend, Park Chan Yeol.

When you first met Chanyeol you fell head first in love. No, seriously, as he was walking by you got so distracted by his handsome face that you fell head first into a pond. Chanyeol was nice enough to give you his jacket for warmth while you dried your clothes. After that encounter, you two just seemed to have a lot in common and he still tells that story to anyone within earshot. You two shared everything together.

Well, not everything.

Chanyeol knew a lot about you. He knew your favorite color, ice cream flavors, types of music. He knew all your friends and even your favorite animals (spoiler alert: it’s all of them), tv shows, favorite serial killers, etc. He knew everything. At least he thought he did. Chanyeol didn’t know a single thing about your family. When he thought about it he never met you mom or your dad or even a single cousin. At first, he didn’t think much about it. He was an idol after all. You were probably protecting him from loose lip family members, he thought. But, that never stopped him from being suspicious about your behavior when he brought it.

He would always talk about his family. He’d go on and on about stories from his childhood, stories about his mother, and funny anecdotes about his father. You never got tired of hearing his stories. A bright smile would be plastered on your face the whole time. However, whenever your family was brought up your face would change. It seemed almost stoic with a mix of sadness and anger. Your body language would be closed off and you talked as if you were a bad actor regurgitating a line.

“My childhood was good. Mom, dad, two brothers, y’know. Kind of a big family, I guess. They live far away so I haven’t seen them much since moving here. Do you want to make out?”

That was just one of the many ways you’d get him to lose interest in the topic: food, making out, night markets, arcades, and so on. It worked, but the thought never left his mind.

---------

Chanyeol was exhausted. These seemed to be one of those days where schedules seemed to happen back to back to back. He wanted nothing more than to cuddle you and order takeout. After his final schedule, he hurried straight over to your apartment. He sent you texts stating that he was coming over and you couldn’t be happier. You two couldn’t help it. The both of you were just that cheesy. Not seeing each other for a few hours turns into some type of Rose and Jack scene.

As Chanyeol walked up to your apartment building entrance, he noticed a middle-aged woman looking more than a little lost. She had a small piece of paper in her left hand and a bag in her right. She looked sweaty and exhausted and her shoes looked run down. It was as if she had been walking all day.

“Um… is this it? Oh… why did my phone have to die? I have no idea where I am…”

The woman kept looking at a small piece of paper and your apartment building. Was she looking for someone?

“Um… excuse me ma’am? Are you lost?”

The woman looked up at Chanyeol startled but soon was relieved as she took a big sigh.

“Yes! I’ve been looking around all day for this apartment and I don’t remember the apartment I’m supposed to go to. It’s on my phone but my battery died 2 hours ago! Can you please help me?!” the woman pleaded. She looked pretty desperate and the last thing Chanyeol wanted to do was leave a woman outside this late at night without any forms of communication.

“Sure!” Chanyeol smiled. “I’d be happy to help.”

The woman returned the smile. “Thank you! So much! Such a nice, handsome man.”

Chanyeol let out a chuckle. He was always a hit with older women and grandmothers. You’d often tease him saying that he should be a sugar baby to a grandmother if he didn’t want to be an idol anymore.

Chanyeol took the woman’s piece of paper and quirked his eyebrow. ‘No wonder she couldn’t find this place! This address is smudged and you can barely see the apartment number.’ He looked back up at the woman. “Um… Is there anyone in particular you’re visiting? My girlfriend lives here so they might be looking for the person.” Chanyeol asked already to pull out his phone to text you.

The woman nodded. “Of course. I’m looking for a (Y/N) (L/N). Do you happen to know them?”

Chanyeol almost dropped his phone. Why… would this woman be looking for you? Is she a relative? A friend?

“Uh… yeah, I do. Are you a family friend or something?”

The woman chuckled, but her eyes seemed to dart away at the question. “I’m her aunt.”

As much as Chanyeol didn’t want to seem shocked he couldn’t help but choke on his own spit. Here was your blood relative standing right in front of him. His eyes widened. Didn’t you say that your family lived really, really far away? Well, that would explain how she got lost and the smudged address. But, why didn’t you tell him your aunt was visiting? Better yet, why hadn’t you told him sooner.

“Umm… are you alright?”

The woman brought Chanyeol out of his thoughts and he realized he had been staring.

“Oh, yeah! Ahem! I’m fine! I know them. I can take you right now.”

The woman beamed with happiness. “Oh! Thank you so much!”

Chanyeol led the woman inside the building. They got in the elevator and he pressed your floor number. As the elevator shook with movement, Chanyeol took peaks at your aunt. She looked fairly young but had lines on her face to give out her age. She seemed nervous and fidgeting. Was this woman really your aunt?

“So, uh, are you from out of town? Because of the address and directions?”

Your “aunt” nodded. “Yes. We haven’t seen much of each other since they moved away. In all honesty, I haven’t seen them in decades.”

Chanyeol nodded. That seemed to line up. You had told him that it had been years since you’ve seen anyone from your family that wasn’t your two brothers.

“I bet they’ll be happy to see you. But, why didn’t you ask them to pick you up or give you directions?”

“Oh, um… I wanted it to be a surprise.” she said curtly. Chanyeol nodded and left the conversation alone, getting the feeling that she didn’t want to talk anymore. However, it did explain why you didn’t tell him they were coming. Once the elevator reached your floor, the doors opened and Chanyeol led the “aunt” down a long hallway. Once they reached the door, your “aunt” seemed visibly nervous now.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Your “aunt” swallowed harshly. “I-I’m just a little jittery… I wonder how they’re going to react…”

Chanyeol put on a brave face. “Well, no time like the present!” He knocked on your door with a familiar rhythm.

“Come in!” he heard you yell.

Chanyeol opened the door and the smell of Chinese takeout made him drool. He always looked forward to the scary movie nights and takeout. Apparently, you were in the mood for Chinese as he saw piles of it on your coffee table as he guided the woman into the living room. You were on your knees, digging your big box of movies searching for something to watch. You were one of the only people he knew who still had a DVD player.

“Great timing! I was having a hard time choosing between Us and Ma-AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!” You let out a gut-wrenching scream as you laid eyes on your boyfriend… standing right next to your aunt. The air immediately turned tense and cold and Chanyeol could feel a chill rip through his spine. He has never ever heard you scream like that. In all of the scary movie nights and spiders and roaches, that scream you let out gave him goosebumps. As your aunt took a step forward, you fell on your butt trying to scramble away from her. The fear in your eyes was uncanny.

“H-Hi (Y/N)... Look, I don’t want to make trouble but I came here be-” Your aunt was cut short as a vase whipped centimeters away from her head. The ceramic shattered everywhere and Chanyeol didn’t have time to respond as a clay dish also whipped towards you aunt just barely missing her face.

“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!” you screamed, already arming yourself with another vase and clay dish.

“Please sweetheart! Just listen-!”

Another vase whipped at her.

“DON’T YOU DARE CALL ME ‘SWEETHEART’ AFTER WHAT YOU DID TO MY FAMILY!!”

‘What you did to my family!!’ What did your aunt do?! There was no time for questions as an ashtray you used to hold your jewelry broke on your aunt’s face. Your aunt dropped to the floor as she cradled her face and yelped in pain. The sounds of your panting were the only thing filling the silence in your apartment. Chanyeol just looked on in horror. He didn’t know what to do. Did he check to see if your aunt was okay or did he go and comfort you? His hands were shaking and he could barely breathe. Just what the hell was going on here?!

“I… I deserved that…” your aunt whispered as she wobbled trying to get on her feet.

“You deserved to have your skin peeled off with a rusty, ancient potato peeler and have all of your orifices sewn with piano wire while a mix of salt and lime juice embalms your entire body.” you snarled. Another chill rips through Chanyeol’s spine. Your voice laced with pure hatred and he has never seen you this angry. It was like you were a whole different person.

“Please… 귀여운… please just listen… I didn’t come here to fight you. I came here… to ask for your forgiveness…”

You scoffed. “Forgiveness? Forgiveness?! After everything you’ve done?! And you dragged my boyfriend in the middle of all of this!!” you pointed at Chanyeol who stood like a statue.

“I didn’t mean to! He said he knew you… and I came all this way… just to find you…”

“Well, you wasted your time! Because I don’t want to see you! Not only did you ruin my life, you ruined everyone’s life! The family, the relationship between me and my dad, and your own sister!! My mother!! She-!” Your words caught in your throat as tears streamed down your face. “I’m not discussing this in front of Chanyeol… Go home (Y/A/N)...”

“Please 귀여운!! I came all this way! I looked for you all day! I came here to give you news about your dad! And I really wanted to see you…”

You stood quiet as she went on. “No one has seen you in years… You’re the only one who doesn’t keep in contact with the family. Your brothers still keep in touch-”

“That was their choice. The moment I left was when I decided I had no family.”

“(Y/N) please…”

“You and that bastard are nothing to me. That whole family is nothing to me! That whole family knew what was going on but were too fucking cowards to have the decency to tell my mother what was going on!!”

“(Y/N)... there’s still so much that you don’t know… If you had stayed and hadn’t pushed us away you would know the full story.”

“LISTEN TO WHAT?! The excuses?! The tears?! The cries?! What “story” is there to tell?! The story about how you're selfish?! And spoiled?! And how you couldn’t just let my mother be happy even if you weren’t?! So you played with my father the same way a child plays with their other siblings' toys when that sibling gets news ones?!”

Your aunt turned silent as she looked down at the ground. Tears were flowing through her eyes too.

“Or are you going to tell him how you two were so in love that you couldn’t recognize what was wrong? Forgiveness is the last thing I want from you. I don’t want your forgiveness. I don’t want your hugs, no sweethearts, not even a damn handshake from you. Because of you… my mother is dead.”

The air dropped 20 degrees lower and Chanyeol could hear you choking back painful sobs.

“Killed by your selfishness… Can your forgiveness bring my mother back? Can your forgiveness bring back all the heartache and crying and trauma that I had to go through finding her body that morning? Can your forgiveness bring back all the years I slept on the streets, begging and crying in the alley alone, when I ran away from home because you and that bastard immediately put me and my brothers in boarding schools after my mother’s funeral?”

Your aunt said nothing more. You blinked the tears out of your eyes and turned around. “I would like for you to leave my house.”

“(Y/N)-”

“I’m afraid I don’t know you ma’am. Please leave my home before my boyfriend calls the police.”

You aunt looked over Chanyeol as they made eye contact. Her eyes were red and her face wet with tears. She gave him a sorrowful look as if to say she was sorry for having to witness this distratious reunion. She slowly picked herself up and placed her bag on the coffee table. She looked at Chanyeol once more and then the bag. Her eyes told him that whatever was in that bag was why she made the journey all the way here and was leaving with a gash in her cheek. As your aunt made her way to the door, you spoke up again.

“(Y/A/N)?”

She turned her head and looked at the corridor that led to your living room. You were standing between that entrance with a cold, tearful look.

“I don’t know how you got here. I’m 10000000% certain that it was none of my brothers, but I will tell you this. If you tell that bastard where I live or anyone else for that matter or get anyone else to come here, I’ll call my brothers and tell them what happened. They’ll cut you off with no hesitation… and then, you’ll be left with no one.”

A painful sob left your aunt’s throat as she nodded and scrambled to get the door open.

“귀여운… my sweetheart… I am so so sorry…”

The door softly shut and you aunt was gone. You slowly walked towards the door, locked it and pressed your forehead on the cold door.

Chanyeol had finally gotten up and was staring at your back, a few tears in his eye as well. He approached you slowly as not to stress you out.

“(Y/N)...?” he whispered. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” you stated curtly. Oh, but you were far from okay. As much as you were angry and upset, you were more so embarrassed that this happened in front of Chanyeol, the love of your life. You wanted to have a relationship with this man. He was one of the few that you actually trusted, just not to the degree. You always knew you’d have to tell him one way or another. Just not like this… How were you going to be normal knowing that Chanyeol knows everything. He’s not an idiot. All the clues were there and based on your reaction he knew this was serious shit he just witnessed.

“I’m sorry-”

“Can I give you a hug?” he asked gently. You turned around and were faced with your gentle faced boyfriend with his arms out already out. You looked in his eyes. They were shiny from tears and you knew rejecting his hug would only make him feel worse. You didn’t give an answer as you willfully ran into his arms and sobbed into his chest. Chanyeol patted your back and smooth your hair, shushing you and whispering gentle words like: “You’re okay. Everything’s okay.” “You’re safe now.” “Whenever you’re ready.” After a while your sobs turned into small sniffles.

“I-I’m so s-sorry you had to see that… I w-w-was gonna tell you s-s-s-soon b-b-b-but…” you stuttered trying to get your words in order.

“Shh… it’s okay… Take a deep breath…”

“I-I was so s-scared that you would leave me!!!”

Chanyeol felt his stomach drop. He would never leave you. Especially since he’s gotten a snippet of what you’ve got through.

“I would never leave you Jagiya…” he assured, giving you a tight squeeze. “We’re in this together now, araso? Your worries are now my worries. When you want to talk about it and explain your story I will always be here to lend you my Yoda ears.”

You let out a soft giggle.

“My ears can pick up anything. I can even hear your thoughts! You’re thinking: ‘How did I get so lucky with such a handsome, generous, man with a ten-pack and great hair.’

You laughed as you pulled away and looked into his eyes. “Close. More along the lines of ‘dorky’ and ‘nine-pack’.”

Chanyeol let out a dramatic gasp and threw his head back. “Are you saying my abs are uneven?! I’ll have you know I count my abs everyday in the shower, just like I count my bread!”

“Pfft-! You count your bread?! Who the hell does that?!”

“Um! Every good-looking rapper with a ten-pack, great hair, handsome face, and who’s Jagiya keeps making peanut butter jelly and honey sandwiches at 3 a.m.”

“Oh my gosh! You’re such a weirdo!” you laughed, holding your stomach with now a new set of tears running down your face. A happy set of tears. As your laughter died down you took Chanyeol’s hand and gave him a gentle almost pleading look.

“Promise you’ll wait?” you asked.

He smiled gently and stroked your cheek. “I’ll wait forever if that means I get to see you smiling everyday.”

You leaned into his cheek and smiled. “Thank you.” You gave his palm a kiss and led him into the living room. You noticed the bag on the coffee table. “What’s this?”

“I don’t know. Your aunt had it with her. It seemed like she wanted you to open it.”

You stared at the bag not knowing what to do. A million thoughts rushed through your mind before Chanyeol’s voice snapped you out of thought.

“Do you want to throw it away?” he asked gently. “Her being here made you really upset and I wouldn’t want you to open the bag if you don’t want to.”

You thought for a while before sighing. “Can you… put it in my closet? I’ll open it someday. Just not to today.”

Chanyeol gave a quick ‘of course’ before giving you a peck on the head and putting the bag in your closet. You’d definitely want to be in the right mindset before seeing what was in that bag. Chanyeol came back and saw you looking at the piles of Chinese food and giving a big sigh. “Well, this food is definitely cold now. Plus, there's glass everywhere…” you grumbled looking at the shattered pieces of once was a vase, two clay dishes, and an ashtray.

“Let’s heat these up and clean up this mess. Then we can start our scary movie night. I still need you to help me pick between Us and Ma.”

“Of course Yeobo! But first, you need to work on your target practice because you missed.”

You tilted your head in confusion. “Missed what?”

Chanyeol pointed to his lips with an adorable pout. “My lips aren’t on my palm~! You really need to work on your aim.”

You giggled as you stood on your tip toes and gave him a quick kiss.

“And just a few more.” he said before smothering your entire face in kisses. Your laughter filled the apartment once again as you both fell on the couch in a kissing frenzy.

“W-Wait! Chanyeol!”

“Not so fast! You need to pay your fees!”

“What fees?”

“What if I get glass in my foot? And what if I bite into a cold noodle because of the microwave? You need to pay for all precautions!”

“Chanyeol!!”

This was why you love this man. He could turn your pain and sobs into laughter. He could make a bad day seem like nothing more than a grain of sand in the ocean. He always made you feel loved and happy. I guess that’s why he isn’t nicknamed the ‘Happy Virus’ for nothing.

hey guys. sorry i haven’t been active recently. college has been kicking my ass even though WE HAVE REMOTE CLASSES >:( anyway. i’ll try to update as much as i can and for those wondering if i’m going to be continuing the suga x reader - cold series, i am! also, look out for some reactions coming soon! later!

#exo k #exo chanyeol #exo scenarios #exo #park chanyeol #kpop scenarios #exo l #exo fluff #exo angst #fluff scenarios #angst scenarios #chanyeol scenario

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gayenerd · 4 years

Text

Green Day Deals with the "Rock Star" Dookie

by Tom Lanham

(First appeared in BAM Magazine, March 10, 1995)

Young, loud, and snotty equals beaucoup bucks? What pencil-pushing, graph-charting trend spotter could've predicted it? But the facts speak for themselves: As of late February, Dookie--the brattish, snap 'n' snarl Reprise salvo from Berkeley's sloppy punk trio, Green Day--has sold six million copies. Six million. Chances are, somebody on your block is jumping up and down in his living room at this very moment to the scrap-metal power chords and ardent apathy of "Longview," "Burnout," "Basket Case," or "When I Come Around" and getting lost in the teen abandon of these testy 22-year-olds--weasel-voiced, Montgomery-Clift-like charismatic singer/guitarist Billie Joe; tom-tom tribal percussionist Tre Cool (of the ever-morphing hair-color fame); and bassist Mike Dirnt (who survived Green Day's appearance at Woodstock '94, although several of his teeth did not).

Yes, punk rock is a marketable phenomenon these days, leaving many involved with the music's initial late-'70s, early-'80s wave scratching their heads, wondering why it didn't take the first time around. Public reaction started as curiosity ("Hey, honey, c'mere and lookit these goofy, green-haired little whippersnappers in an insane asylum on MTV!"), but spiraled up to rock-diet necessity (Green Day just won Grammy and they're nominated for quite a few Bammies as well, including such categories as Outstanding Group, Outstanding Album, and Outstanding Song--"Longview" and "Basket Case"). The fact that they've been nominated at all probably sends a shiver up the old dinosaur backbones of Eddie Money, Huey Lewis, and Boz Scaggs, a time-creepy feeling of "Gee, what the hell do we do now?" Because this isn't just some flash-in-the-pan punk movement, folks--this is a youth movement; Green Day are, as they hiply term it, "bored in the 'burbs," and reaching out, through TV and radio, like some prodigal preachers to other American kids who sense the same slacker ennui. Obviously, we're talking truckloads of kids.

Ironically, the more fame edges into the Green Day ruffians' lives, the more mature they seem to become. They've turned down all interview requests as of late, even People magazine, preferring to lay low until this tide of interest recedes. Billie Joe got married last autumn, and spent his honeymoon--not in any exotic, expensive locale--but in Berkeley's grand old Claremont Hotel. Cool recently became a father, and Billie Joe's child is due any day now. It's a responsibility they've both eagerly undertaken. Rob Cavallo, the boys' coproducer and A&R man at Reprise, swears they're "old souls, the smartest young kids I've ever met." It rings true.

The first time I spoke with Green Day, in January of '94, Cool, Dirnt, and Billie Joe were lazing around their dingy basement apartment in Berkeley, sitting on chairs and couches with potentially painful springs poking through. Rock 'n' roll bubblegum cards were scattered across a coffee table, along with several bongs of various sizes, plus a four-and-a-half foot red plastic pipe dubbed "Bongzilla" leaned against a doorway. The only wall decoration, besides a Ren & Stimpy poster, was a Twister game mat nailed up in its entirety, presumably for high-schoolish humor's sake.

When I'd met Billie Joe a few months earlier at a campus concert, his hair was dyed lime-green and featured squidlike tufts. Now it was dark brown, with only two tufts remaining, and both his ears and nose had piercings. Periodically during the interview, he'd ram a finger into that pierced nostril, rummage around, then stare idly at the resultant booger before flicking it on to the carpet. Cool wandered out of the rec room for several minutes, but returned, red-eyed, to proudly proclaim, "Lookit me! I'm stoned, dude!" Dirnt--when he wasn't strumming an acoustic guitar--kept watching their windowsill Sea Monkey tank, finally noting, "Hey, these Sea Monkeys look just like sperm!"

Despite all these schoolboy, poo-poo wit trappings (dookie, after all, is kiddie slang for excrement), there was a sense of seasoned wisdom about them, a feeling that they were, as Cavallo postulated, truly old souls. Like the class clown who frustrates all of his teachers by also maintaining a 4.0 grade average, Green Day can afford to play because their work--brilliantly skewed three-minute pop songs, delivered with such vehemence and vitriol you don't dare doubt them--certainly speaks for itself. But, sooner or later, of course, the band has to speak for itself, too, so what follows is a set of excerpts from that first ratty-digs meeting, as well as a later chat with Billie Joe, sans sidekicks. How did Green Day take over the rock world in less than a year? That's the six-million-copy question, and hopefully we'll provide a few answers.

* * *

So punk is back, whether America likes it or not?

BILLIE JOE: It's always been around, and everyone has their own interpretation of it. It's weird to actually call it "punk" again, when it's been there all the time.

MIKE DIRNT: It's been springing up in little suburban areas, where people grab it and express themselves.

TRE COOL: It's people who make a point of setting aside all responsibilities and just playing music. And doing fat joint after fat joint--you have to let go of things like paying rent, going to school, having a job.

BJ: And, if you can't tell by my house, we don't have a very high standard of living.

How does today's punk rock differ from its late-'70s cousin?

BJ: I think it was all about art and fashion back then, really, because everyone who was a punk in England was in art school. I read an early interview with Dee Dee Ramone, where he said he wished the Ramones had more of a glamorous appeal, too, instead of playing in jeans and leather jackets. But it was definitely about fashion, until the Clash really brought out the political side. Our music came from being bored in the 'burbs. You get put in this high school situation, where you're learning someone else's rules in a room with 30 other people that you don't really like. There's nothing interesting about it whatsoever, so you pick up a guitar instead.

But you all tried college, at least for awhile, right?

MD: And then we started touring. Constantly.

TC: So most of our reading now comes from highway signs.

MD: It's the old grasshopper and the ant story. The thought of actually working is just so...

TC: Sickening!

MD: Yeah. So we put everything we had into not working. This is what I do best, and I was always told, "If you're gonna do something, do it the best you can." So why not do the best thing you can, too?

You guys--at least Mike and Billie Joe--have known each other since you were 10?

BJ: And the first conversation we ever had was about writing songs. And then we just started playing music.

A lot of the stuff on your early Lookout! records shows what was on your mind at the time--namely, girls.

BJ: That was pretty much the viewpoint of a 16-year-old kid. I don't write stuff like that anymore. The new songs are more about coming of age and being apathetic and neurotic.

Where were your parents when you were touring [at age 16]?

MD: At work, doing their own thing.

BJ: My mom's worked a waitress job for like the past 40 years or something, and whatever I was doing was OK with her.

MD: I moved out when I was 15, and I worked all the way through high school.

BJ: And me, I've never held a job longer than two weeks. I tried to flip pizzas--it didn't work. I tried cleaning toilets in the Red Onion in El Sobrante. Me and TrŽ, we used to work for the SF Chronicle, selling papers. I sold three the first day, and the next day we just smoked pot, and we smoked pot the next day after that. So we had hella extra papers lying around. Our ultimate goal wasn't to get rich or famous or anything like that. It was to not have a regular job and not be miserable.

MD: And I've lived in every city around here, except for Albany. Literally. And one thing we want to establish about ourselves is that we're just a bunch of geeks from the suburbs.

Well, one of the first times I saw you, you guys were closing your set with Survivor's "Eye of the Tiger." That's pretty geeky.

MD: I grew up on radio--that's all I had. When I was a little kid, I couldn't afford records. I'll tell you, I've been down to a dollar in my pocket a lot of times. I've even lived in my truck. I can remember shooting rats with a BB gun in the flat we used to live in, before they'd make it to our food.

BJ: I've always been really good about saving. If I got some money, I'd put it away instead of spending it, and I'd buy ramen.

Why name your disc Dookie?

TC: Warner's said we could do anything we want, as long as we didn't say "Cop Killer."

BJ: Somebody told our manager that the ad for it was the most tasteless thing they'd ever seen in Billboard magazine.

What exactly do you mean on Dookie by "Welcome to Paradise"?

BJ, MD, TC [in unison]: West Oakland!

MD: Living in West Oakland, and going out to parties every night.

So it cost, what, around $100,000 to make Dookie?

MD: Yeah. We kept the advances low, because you gotta pay all that shit back. Everyone knows you can't become an instant millionaire just by signing, because there are so many people that want a piece of you.

BJ: We hang out with mostly punks though, and they don't want anything we have. They could care less. And a lot of our friends don't even agree with us being on a major label.

Is Green Day angry?

BJ: No, I'm not angry, like, walking around all the time with a frown on my face. But the way my music is interpreted is very angry.

MD: When you feel really strongly about something, you want to let it out in the most powerful way possible.

Like the way you baited your old high school principal from the Warfield stage recently?

MD: I think he was an asshole. He treated me with no respect. And for high school initiation, we got our heads shaved--that's the kind of small-town shit we had to deal with! Sometimes they made you push a penny up the street with your nose. But that's life, and anywhere you go, you're gonna hate a lot of shit in your life. You'll be handed

Dookie?

MD: Yeah. Yeah, you'll be handed dookie through all parts of your life. And see, what you need to do is just deal with the dookie, build upon what you have, and make something out of the dookie, you know? Like an adobe dookie building!

* * *

Several months later, and Dookie is oozing its gooey way into the public consciousness big time. The fading summer heat sticks crackling to the Berkeley sidewalks as punks--many sporting monstrous green or fuchsia mohawks--zing by on skateboards by day, and huddle in Telegraph Avenue doorways by night, conserving feral body heat the whole time. It feels like another world here, a throwback to the Bay Area's DIY/hardcore scene of the early '80s, when squatters reigned supreme and burlesque Broadway--fueled by all-ages shows at the Mabuhay Gardens, On Broadway, and even an occasional GBH or UK Subs booking at the Stone--made weekend conversions to "Punk Playground, USA." It was the best of times; it was the worst of times--despite relentless touring, most of these bands sold bupkus in the way of records, and few, save Metallica, ever held pen in shaky hand over a major-label contract.

Billie Joe saunters into the Berkeley coffeehouse in rumpled jeans and a grease-spattered flannel shirt; his once-green-and-tufty tresses have grown out into Wally Cleaver waves and been dyed a Rod Stewarty blond. He looks like one of those feisty punks of yore; like he could hold his own through sheer physical endurance in the wildest of thrash pits. There's a new authority about him, the way he strides confidently to the counter, orders a pint-size glass of coffee, then swims through a sea of late-lunching yuppies to grab a table. The singer doesn't seem to notice them at all. Or maybe he's just too tired from nonstop touring to really give a shit. He smiles a goofy grin, revealing a set of generally crooked or chipped choppers, with an entire half of one front tooth missing. But there's such charisma behind it, the same kind of "Who, me?" innocence that little kids use. Billie Joe, you might say, has quickly become the Bart Simpson of the alternative set.

How else could you explain his uncensored performance at a certain outdoor arena where--in a hyperspeed set lasting only 30 minutes before management threatened to pull the plug--he a) unzipped his fly and paraded his privates around for all to see; b) handed a stunned fan his beat-up, sticker-plastered guitar and urged him to play it; c) destroyed a $600 microphone by smashing it into the stage, then destroyed a second mike he was handed as well; and d) encouraged half the venue to chant, "Rock 'n' roll!" and the other half to respond with, "Shut the fuck up!" He then closed the show with a proposition--"They'll be really angry with us, but what we could do is rip out the seats!" he told the audience, which promptly gave Green Day a standing ovation. Billie Joe not only shrugs off such shenanigans as artistic license, he gets away with them! He's even encouraged to continue by fans who empathize with his uppity "fuck authority" attitude.

But the facts were all on the table as Billie Joe sipped his house blend that afternoon, and it didn't take a fortune teller to read 'em. Green Day was hitting big time. Fast. And the sheer enormity of the undertaking, the weight of all its accordant responsibility, was just beginning to hit him. He looked older, wiser, and spoke in more grownup tones about his future, which then included a pending marriage to longtime girlfriend Adrienne. You could practically feel this new maturity encircling him like some protective aura.

* * *

=Where do all these punks on Telegraph come from? They can't all be local and homeless.

I think Telegraph has just become this cultural mecca for punk rockers, because most of 'em who are on the Avenue aren't even from here. They're from Arizona, Minneapolis, New York, Florida. They just come out and end up squatting in houses in Berkeley. Why here? It's the climate, and the scene itself--Gilman Street and Maximum Rock 'n' Roll are in this area, and have a link to each other. But at the same time, it's separated, because there are so many different factions of punk now. There are the squatters, the pop-cores, the mods, the crusties. And all these types of people come out just to check it out. Plus, there's the best coffee in Berkeley, and a lot of 'em are real super coffee-drinkers, just pounding cup after cup all the time. It's pretty rare to come across a punk who doesn't drink coffee. I can't drink too much coffee myself--it gives me the shakes at night, so I just have a little bit during the day. Then I can smoke dope and go to bed.

=What's the attraction in squatting or homelessness for these kids?

For a lot of 'em, it's the first sense of freedom that they've had. It's like, "You mean I don't have to be home by midnight?" They've pretty much told their families and schools to go fuck themselves, so they go off and do their own thing. When I was 17, I did the same thing. And I had this total sense of freedom, where no one's telling you what to do, you don't have a clock to punch in on, you don't have people breathing down your neck; you don't have any deadlines to meet. You have this endless schedule where you can stay up all night drinking with your friends, or do anything you want.

=But isn't "Coming Clean" about leaving behind your wilder ways?

It's also about coming to grips with your sexuality. There's one line, "Skeletons come to life in my closet." And it's like, "Am I homosexual or heterosexual?" You go through this adolescent stage in your life where you don't really know what you are, and one side is taboo because your parents brought you up to think being gay was wrong. And if you come to grips with yourself, that you happen to be gay or bi or whatever, well, that was one thing about punk that was so accepting--all creeds were welcome, all sexualities, everything.

=Was this something you went through personally?

Yeah, to a certain extent. But I don't want to go around waving a gay flag or anything.

=Well, you had a beautiful girl on your arm backstage at the last Green Day show.

That's Adrienne. She's cool. Actually, we're engaged. That's why it took me so long getting here today--I had to get this! [Rolls sleeve up on tattooed arm, points to a bandaged-on cotton swab] Blood test, dude! We're getting married next week!

=Has anybody tried to tell you you're too young for such a serious move?

Of course. There are a lot of people who've said stuff. My parents have been a little more understanding than her parents. I just called my mom yesterday and said, "Mom, I'm gettin' married," and she said, "That's fine, son. Have fun!" I can hardly surprise my mother nowadays. But [this relationship] has been a recurring thing for the past four years, and we just decided to get serious about it. She's coming out here, and we're moving in together, so it's like, "Why not?" I don't really have any wild oats to sow, or anything like that. I'm not into the "Gettin' chicks all the time" thing.

=I know a lot of girls who'll be really bummed that you're gittin' hitched. They all seem to have developed a crush on you...

Me?! It must be the teeth [grins again].

=OK, so maybe you didn't brush often enough when you were young. But you were busy developing a direction...

I wouldn't necessarily say I had a direction or anything. I just knew I wanted to write songs. It comes from...uh...I don't know. I have no idea. It wasn't any kind of cosmic force or anything like that; it was just a matter of having a guitar around and wanting to play it all the time. I've had the same guitar since I was 11--I bought it off this guy at a guitar store. And I still play it--you know, the blue one with stickers all over it? That's my blue guitar, and, for some reason, things come to life, and everyone calls it "Blue" now--"Where's Blue? Can I pick up Blue and play it?"

=And you let just anybody touch it?

Oh yeah! Blue's not prejudiced.

=It's interesting to note that the general public seems to think Dookie is your debut.

Yeah, but that's just the general public. There are people who've been with us since the beginning, who know how long we've been around, since our first 7-inch came out back in '89.

=And now you can afford to trash pricey microphones.

Actually, Warner Brothers paid for those. It was pretty nice of 'em. They looked really nice--I remember looking at 'em and thinking, "Nice microphones!" They gave me one mike and I took it and threw it down, and they gave me another, and at the end of the set I creamed it pretty hard, I guess. We toured Europe with this band Die Toten Hosen--we played nine dates with 'em--and we got charged for a microphone every night. I dunno, for some reason we just started smashing shit. We'd start throwing equipment around at the end of each set, and these kids would start grabbing Tre's drum set and throwing it, and then they started smashing the microphones too. And the bouncers just couldn't do anything about it.

=And you actually yanked your dick out onstage too?

I did. Totally. It was the real thing. I dunno. The bands that we were playing with were just boring. It was more like making a mockery of the whole thing. The big arena rock thing is just so dated now, like Journey or Queen. Which is why I think punk rock started to begin with--it was this reaction to all the dinosaur bands. So for me, that show was, "How can we make a complete mockery of this but at the same time have fun with it?" I like to leave people guessing, "Did he hate that or did he like that?" It's not that I don't care--it's more that I'm careless. I try to be as happy-go-lucky as I can, but you can become apathetic at the same time.

=Do you feel like Green Day is a part of, or represents, the so-called "slacker generation"?

There's one side of me that doesn't mind it, because it's a generational thing, and another side of me that says, "Fuck that!" The reason I wrote the songs is, I ended up going back to Rodeo, where I'm from, for a week. And then I said, "Fuck it," and left. But I managed to get several good songs out of it. A lot of my friends had just turned into complete burnouts. And these are kids I've known since kindergarten, because it's a small town and you know everybody. And it was all fixing cars, staying up all night on methamphetamines, smoking dope, and finding out all these rumors about people I haven't heard of in 10 years. Like, "Oh, did you hear about so-and-so, who got married, had three kids, and ended up shooting everybody in his family?" And it happened! It was a true story! You're there for one week, and you get caught up in it. You get so bored, all you wanna do is watch television. And there are no record stores, nothing around, so you end up hanging out with all these delinquents who aren't punkers at all, just cultural idiots. So I was watching all these people rot and rotting with them until I realized, "Shit! I gotta get the fuck outta here!"

=As they say, you can never go home again.

Oh yeah, definitely. Unless you get pregnant, like my sister did. Then you have to go. But I quit school my senior year--I just wasn't getting anything out of it. I was taking nine periods a day, plus night classes, which left me no time to smoke dope whatsoever. And my mom even suggested I drop out, because she was a dropout, too. I come from a long line of dropouts. I still have nightmares about being late with my homework assignments. When I finally went in to sign out of high school, the teacher went, "Now, who are you again?"

=And if that teacher could see you now!

A lot of people think you get this big connection with a corporate label, and you make millions of dollars, but they don't understand that you just don't make that much money. And when you do, it's easy to piss it away. I mean, every cent that I've made, I've pissed away. I'm not gonna say how I did it, but I don't have it But I don't think you necessarily have to be a punk to decide to say, "Fuck it." You don't even have to have a direction. It's just a matter of getting the fuck out and exploring things for yourself.

=But didn't you feel abject terror when you first set out on your own?

Nah, I didn't. Because, for some reason, I knew things were gonna be all right. You can create your own future as long as karma's on your side. And I'm a strong believer in karma. I think things can come back to you if you're just willing to give.

* * *

True enough. At least six million times over!

1995 Tom Lanham

#article #interview #articles #billie joe armstrong

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cathygeha · 3 years

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REVIEW

New Girl in Little Cove by Damhnait Monaghan

Small conservative Catholic community in need of a teacher

Novice teacher in need of change seeks it in new community

Will she be welcomed?

Will she fit in?

Will she find what she needs?

And how will the community react deal with this new person from away?

Filled with community, culture, and so much more – this story drew me in, made me care, and hope for happy endings for more than one character in the story.

What I liked:

* The setting – having never been to Newfoundland it felt as if I was making the trip with the main character.

* The writing: skillful, friendly, descriptive and immersive.

* Rachel O’Brien: newly graduated, early twenties, grieving, modern, giving, good friend, caring, kind, immersed in a new culture, grows a LOT during the story, someone I admire.

* Doug Bishop: teacher of science and phys ed, probationary teacher, from Little Cover, loving son, caring, kind, intelligent, intriguing.

* Lucille, Biddy and the rest of the hookers – wonderful, caring, giving, creative, strong, community minded women that provide social and emotional support for one another (and others)

* Patrick Donovan: Principal, knowledgeable, patient, kind, a good man, there for his teachers and students

* Students with their individual needs, problems, and potential

* The ways Rachel ended up connecting with her students and others

* The romance that slowly developed between Rachel and Doug

* Sheila: Rachel’s BFF

* Rachel’s backstory

* Feeling like I was becoming part of the community/story

* The music and art elements of the story

* All of it really, except…

What I didn’t like:

* Thinking about the sadness and loss experienced by more than one character in the story

* Knowing that too often the best option for individuals is overlooked due to moral, religious, educational or societal values.

Did I enjoy this book? Yes

Would I read more by this author? Yes

Thank you to NetGalley and harper Collins-Graydon House-HQN for the ARC – This is my honest review.

5 Stars

Book Summary:

Take a literary trip to Newfoundland: the island of the world’s friendliest people, the setting for the award-winning musical Come From Away, and home of the delightfully quirky and irresistibly charming debut, NEW GIRL IN LITTLE COVE (May 11; $16.99; Graydon House Books) by Damhnait Monaghan! After being utterly scandalized by the abrupt departure of their school’s only French teacher (she ran off with a priest!) the highly Catholic, very tiny town of Little Cove, Newfoundland needs someone who doesn’t rock the boat. Enter mainlander Rachel O’Brien —technically a Catholic (baptized!), technically a teacher (unused honors degree!)— who is so desperate to leave her old life behind, she doesn’t bother to learn the (allegedly English) local dialect. Stuck on an island she’s never known surrounded by a people and culture she barely understands, Rachel struggles to feel at home. Only the intervention of her crotchety landlady, a handsome fellow teacher, and the Holy Dusters – the local women who hook rugs and clean the church – will assure Rachel’s salvation in this little island community.

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EXCERPT

Chapter 1

September 1985

Little Cove: Population 389

The battered sign came into view as my car crested a hill on the gravel road. Only 389 people? Damn. I pulled over and got out of the car, inhaling the moist air. Empty boats tilted against the wind in the bay below. A big church dominated the valley, beside which squatted a low, red building, its windows dark, like a row of rotten teeth. This was likely St. Jude’s, where tomorrow I would begin my teaching career.

“You lost?”

I whirled around. A gaunt man, about sixty, straddled a bike beside me. He wore denim overalls and his white hair was combed neatly back from his forehead.

“Car broke down?” he continued.

“No,” I said. “I’m just … ” My voice trailed off. I could hardly confide my second thoughts to this stranger. “…admiring the view.”

He looked past me at the flinty mist now spilling across the bay. A soft rain began to fall, causing my carefully straightened hair to twist and curl like a mass of dark slugs.

“Might want to save that for a fine day,” he said. His accent was strong, but lilting. “It’s right mauzy today.”

“Mossy?”

“Mauzy.” He gestured at the air around him. Then he folded his arms across his chest and gave me a once-over. “Now then,” he said. “What’s a young one like you doing out this way?”

“I’m not that young,” I shot back. “I’m the new French teacher out here.”

A smile softened his wrinkled face. “Down from Canada, hey?”

As far as I knew, Newfoundland was still part of Canada, but I nodded.

“Phonse Flynn,” he said, holding out a callused hand. “I’m the janitor over to St. Jude’s.”

“Rachel,” I said. “Rachel O’Brien.”

“I knows you’re staying with Lucille,” he said. “I’ll show you where she’s at.”

With an agility that belied his age, he dismounted and gently lowered his bike to the ground. Then he pointed across the bay. “Lucille’s place is over there, luh.”

Above a sagging wharf, I saw a path that cut through the rocky landscape towards a smattering of houses. I’d been intrigued at the prospect of a boarding house; it sounded Dickensian. Now I was uneasy. What if it was awful?

“What about your bike?” I asked, as Phonse was now standing by the passenger-side door of my car.

“Ah, sure it’s grand here,” he said. “I’ll come back for it by and by.”

“Aren’t you going to lock it?”

I thought of all the orphaned bike wheels locked to racks in Toronto, their frames long since ripped away. Jake had been livid when his racing bike was stolen. Not that I was thinking about Jake. I absolutely was not.

“No need to lock anything ’round here,” said Phonse.

I fumbled with my car keys, embarrassed to have locked the car from habit.

“Need some help?”

“The lock’s a bit stiff,” I said. “I’ll get used to it.”

Phonse waited while I jiggled in vain. Then he walked around and held out his hand. I gave him the key, he stuck it in and the knob on the inside of the car door popped up immediately.

“Handyman, see,” he said. “Wants a bit of oil, I allows. But like I said, no need to lock ’er. Anyway, with that colour, who’d steal it?” I had purchased the car over the phone, partly for its price, partly for its colour. Green had been Dad’s favourite colour, and when the salesman said mountain green, I’d imagined a dark, verdant shade. Instead, with its scattered rust garnishes, the car looked like a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream. Still, it would fit right in. I eyeballed the houses as we drove along: garish orange, lime green, blinding yellow. Maybe there had been a sale on paint.

As we passed the church, Phonse blessed himself, fingers moving from forehead to chest, then on to each shoulder. I kept both hands firmly on the steering wheel.

“Where’s the main part of Little Cove?” I asked.

“You’re looking at it.”

There was nothing but a gas station and a takeout called MJ’s, where a clump of teenagers was gathered outside, smoking. A tall, dark-haired boy pointed at my car and they all turned to stare. A girl in a lumber jacket raised her hand. I waved back before I realized she was giving me the finger. Embarrassed, I peeked sideways at Phonse. If he’d noticed, he didn’t let on.

Although Phonse was passenger to my driver, I found myself thinking of Matthew Cuthbert driving Anne Shirley through Avonlea en route to Green Gables. Not that I’d be assigning romantic names to these landmarks. Anne’s “Snow Queen” cherry tree and “Lake of Shining Waters” were nowhere to be seen. It was more like Stunted Fir Tree and Sea of Grey Mist. And I wasn’t a complete orphan; it merely felt that way.

At the top of a hill, Phonse pointed to a narrow dirt driveway on the right. “In there, luh.”

I parked in front of a small violet house encircled by a crooked wooden fence. A rusty oil tank leaned into the house, as if seeking shelter. When I got out, my nose wrinkled at the fishy smell. Phonse joined me at the back of the car and reached into the trunk for my suitcases.

“Gentle Jaysus in the garden,” he grunted. “What have you got in here at all? Bricks?” He lurched ahead of me towards the house, refusing my offer of help.

The contents of my suitcases had to last me the entire year; now I was second-guessing my choices. My swimsuit and goggles? I wouldn’t be doing lengths in the ocean. I looked at the mud clinging to my sneakers and regretted the suede dress boots nestled in tissue paper. But I knew some of my decisions had been right: a raincoat, my portable cassette player, stacks of homemade tapes, my hair straighteners and a slew of books.

When Phonse reached the door, he pushed it open, calling, “Lucille? I got the new teacher here. I expect she’s wore out from the journey.” As he heaved my bags inside, a stout woman in a floral apron and slippers appeared: Lucille Hanrahan, my boarding house lady.

“Phonse, my son, bring them bags upstairs for me now,” she said.

I said I would take them but Lucille shooed me into the hall, practically flapping her tea towel at me. “No, girl,” she said. “You must be dropping, all the way down from Canada. Let’s get some grub in you before you goes over to the school to see Mr. Donovan.”

Patrick Donovan, the school principal, had interviewed me over the phone. I was eager to meet him.

“Oh, did he call?” I asked.

“No.”

Lucille smoothed her apron over her belly, then called up the stairs to ask Phonse if he wanted a cup of tea. There was a slow beat of heavy boots coming down. “I’ll not stop this time,” said Phonse. “But Lucille, that fence needs seeing to.”

Lucille batted her hand at him. “Go way with you,” she said. “It’s been falling down these twenty years or more.” But as she showed him out, they talked about possible repairs, the two of them standing outside, pointing and gesturing, oblivious to the falling rain.

A lump of mud fell from my sneaker, and I sat down on the bottom step to remove my shoes. When Lucille returned, she grabbed the pair, clacked them together outside the door to remove the remaining mud, then lined them up beside a pair of sturdy ankle boots.

I followed her down the hall to the kitchen, counting the curlers that dotted her head, pink outposts in a field of black and grey.

“Sit down over there, luh,” she said, gesturing towards a table and chairs shoved against the back window. I winced at her voice; it sounded like the classic two-pack-a-day rasp.

The fog had thickened, so nothing was visible outside; it was like watching static on TV. There were scattered cigarette burns on the vinyl tablecloth and worn patches on the linoleum floor. A religious calendar hung on the wall, a big red circle around today’s date. September’s pin-up was Mary, her veil the exact colour of Lucille’s house. I was deep in Catholic territory, all right. I hoped I could still pass for one.

Published by Graydon House Books

AUTHOR BIO

DAMHNAIT MONAGHAN was once a mainlander who taught in a small fishing village in Newfoundland. A former teacher and lawyer, Monaghan has almost sixty publication credits, including flash fiction, creative non-fiction, and short stories. Her short prose has won or placed in various writing competitions and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize, Best Small Fictions, and Best Microfictions. New Girl in Little Cove placed in the top six from more than 350 entries in the 2019 International Caledonia Novel Award.

Social Links:

Author Website

Twitter: @Downith

Instagram: @Downith1

Facebook: @AuthorDMonaghan

Goodreads

#Damhnait Monaghan #Harlequin #Graydon House #Harper Collins #NetGalley #Newfoundland #Romance #Fiction #Historical Fiction #Small Town Fiction

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