#me screwing around with transparency brushes on my phone

[fistfuloflightning]

In return for a binding peace, the Uchiha give one condition. One Senju life bound to the last Uchiha dead. Hashirama is willing to pay that price.

Day 6 | ghost wedding for @foundersweek

[bunny-jpeg]

Hello, I would like to order a blueberry bars, fried dough and a honey cruller with an mocha coffee, mai tai and naked & famous. It's a big order but could you please do it?

(could be the reader innocent, soft and adorable and Carlos would be the opposite, please)

I send good wishes!💓

bakery menu!!

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu!! there are a ton of items to check out! i love writing these and thank you so much for those who have sent me things! i've grown so soft for carlos lately and been having a ball writing for him!

blueberry bars: “gonna make you a mamma and you're gonna make me a daddy.” + fried dough: "i know virginity is a stupid concept... but i want to take yours." + honey cruller: "i forget how small you are sometimes." + mocha coffee: breeding kink + naked & famous: bimbo/ditzy!reader served by carlos sainz jr (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, virgin!reader, ditzy!reader, breeding kink, size difference & kink, missionary position

"so, how do you know where to go?" you asked as you practically skipped alongside your boyfriend of the last few months. the practice for monza ended a few hours earlier and now you were headed back to the ferrari motor-home, where you'd be staying for the weekend.

"go where?"

you tapped your chin, "on the track. like, how do you know to go one way instead of the other? nothing on the track is really labeled, what if you drove the entire thing backwards!"

carlos knew you were a bit... ditzy. not in a bad way, you were curious and always willing to learn. it was just that you were so painfully sweet and innocent, even down to having your virginity in tact.

he felt the need to protect you.

he wrapped a strong arm around you and kissed you on the cheek, "don't worry, i have a whole team to make sure i get where i need to go as fast as i can." he laughed a little bit before he kissed you, "i forget how small you are sometimes." his voice tinged with a certain affection.

back at the hotel room, you shrugged off carlos' jacket that he kept over your shoulders most of the evening after practice and the interviews. he seemed to be going strong for the upcoming race, which excited you greatly. when he won, you both won! you were carlos' number one fan (he agreed)!

while you were both curled up in the bedroom, you were playing with carlos' hand while he used his phone with the other. occasionally he turned the screen to you to show you a funny post on the internet. you giggled and leaned up to kiss him. it only took a few kisses before the phone was placed on the nightstand and he was crowded in your space on the bed.

he was very blunt when he asked you, "i know virginity is a stupid concept... but i want to take yours." you were transparent about being a virgin, and while carlos would take no as an answer. he wanted to take it, not out of some pride. but because he loved you. he linked his fingers with yours and leaned in to your face, "and tonight, i'm gonna make you a mamma and you're gonna make me a daddy.”

your cheeks went warm, "carlos..." you wanted to hide your face but he grasped your face to look at him. you stared into his dark eyes and you swallowed. you asked him, "you want my virginity?"

carlos replied as he leaned in, "screw that. i want you. i want to enjoy your body and feel close to you. i don't care if you're a virgin. i just want you however i can have you." he got on top of you, "what do you say? a night of good luck before the grand prix." he smiled at you in the low light of the bedroom.

"what about charles next door." you tilted your head to the shared wall of the bedrooms and almost yelped when carlos got closer once more.

"he is out tonight, visiting his friend." he chuckled as he brushed his nose up against the sensitive part of your neck, "as long as you don't yell bloody murder, no one will bother us." his hand grazed between your legs and your pulse jumped.

he smiled once more as he lips trailed your neck. you wrapped your arms around him and tried to pull his t-shirt up by the shoulders. you felt bathed in warm, a blush that was felt in your entire body.

you helped him out of his clothes and he helped you out of yours. he kissed at your heated skin and whispered small words of praise. he wanted to make sure you knew how loved you were by him.

even with your ditzy personality, how innocent you were. like the time you got shocked by how loud the car was, or when he explained to you three different times how the cars worked and each time you said the wheel looked like a wii u controller. a comment that made him laugh each time.

you laid out on the soft bed, most would kill for a bed this comfortable. you looked up at your lover, the soft light highlighted his best features. those dark eyes pulled you in as he took you by the hips and rubbed his achy cock up against your pussy.

"are you going to get me pregnant tonight, carlos?"

he chuckled and leaned forward, "not tonight. but, you like the idea? the idea of having a family with me? me getting you pregnant?" he rubbed his cock up against you. you tensed up and he coaxed, "relax, relax."

you swallowed and held onto the pillow under your head. you were stark naked and felt so vulnerable, "i do like it... the idea of you getting me pregnant." it spoke to a core instinct you had in your head. the need to be with the one you loved. the thought made your core grow hotter.

"want me to make you a mother?" he said as he rubbed up against you some more before he sank his cock into you slowly. something ran through him at the idea that he was the first person you had been with sexually. at least this capacity of sexually.

"carlos. i love you." you said softly as you felt the stretch of his cock inside of you. it made your back arch a little from the feeling, but you tried to keep your noises down. the slight pain was soon replaced with pleasure as carlos started to move his hips.

the pace was steady, not too fast, but also not painfully slow. carlos made you feel protective and cared for, even now while you were under him. the bed shifted a little under your movements and your noises were sweet.

"are you feeling alright?" he asked, he leaned closer to you. he yearned for your warmth as he made you feel good.

you nodded, "of course. i feel great." you scratched your nails across the hair on the back of his neck. he looked at you, those brown eyes held so much love.

carlos wanted to make a family with you. to call it a breeding kink felt so dirty, more dirty than it had to be. he wanted to create a family with you. not built from the product of lust, but from love and kindness. he wanted to show love to you and the child or children you had. he wanted to fill your days with love and nights with passion. he wanted you in every way he could have you. to love and protect you for the rest of his days. you had captured his heart with your genuine kindness.

he wanted you pregnant, living together. you being his beautiful, lovely wife who he adored more than anything. you gave him purpose beyond racing. you kept his heart beating. you were innocent in such a way that carlos felt protective over you. you brought love into his life and he adored every second together. even if he performed at his worst on the track, he would find comfort in your arms. and now in your pussy. he moved against you, he marginally picked up. it was a good steady pace that brought pleasure into your blood. it made your head feel a little fuzzy, but in a great way.

"carlos." you moaned, "honey."

"how does it feel?" carlos asked as he continued to move against his. he was feeling his own pleasure and knew he wasn't going to last much longer. he could feel the throb in his body.

you nodded, "feels really good, almost as good as when i do it on my own." you moaned a little bit when the pleasure zapped through your body once more. you clung to your lover and felt a sea of pleasure in your gut. you held onto him tightly and felt the pleasure hit its peak. your moan caught in your throat when you felt the climax.

"beautiful." he said softly as he continued to rut against you. his pace picked up, but was mindful about hurting you. his hips met yours as he smothered your face in kisses.

the post-orgasmic bliss felt amazing as you clung to your lover. you heard his short noises as he moved against you. he held onto your hips a bit tighter as he felt climax on the tip of his tongue. he was on a knife's edge and he pulled you into a heated kiss when he finished inside of you.

"please,please give me a baby." he panted.

you nodded dumbly, "anything you want." your eyes were half-closed from the pleasure and it only turned carlos on further. he took your virginity, "i love you."

he smiled down at you and held you in his arms. his cock still snug in your pussy. he was still painfully hard. you really have done a number to him and as he started to move for the second round. he felt an immense love for you.

"i love you too, my future wife." <3

[babygirlwolverine]

Tinsel and Tourists - Chapter Ten

Word Count: 1,811 (another long chapter, I’m sorry)

Dean’s POV

Link to ao3 / Link to masterpost

“For God’s sake, Dean. Snap out of it, lover boy. We’ve got a real case here that’s far more complicated than a salt-n-burn. Could you quit staring at your phone with heart-eyes for five freaking seconds so we can actually do our jobs,” Sam said, crossing his arms and snapping his computer open with a poignant look thrown Dean’s way.

“You’re the one who set me up with him in the first place,” Dean shot back. “You’ve been deliberately pushing us together, and just when I’m about to kiss him, you had to interrupt.”

“Dead body showed up and we needed to check it out. Pretty damn important if you ask me,” Sam said.

“You couldn’t have waited one extra minute? You clearly saw I was milliseconds away from finally kissing him-”

Sam loudly slammed a book down onto the table, effectively cutting Dean off. “Five times, Dean. Five times tonight so far you’ve given me crap for interrupting. I’m sick of hearing about it. Go out there and find Cas and kiss him right now or shut the hell up and get to work, unless you want whatever this is to take Cas and kill him, too.”

Damn. That was a sobering thought. If any monster even so much as looked at Cas, Dean swore he was going to lose it. He couldn’t stop his mind from screaming mine; a protective streak burning inside his gut and wrapping up into his chest.

Placing his phone back down on the table, Dean opened his own laptop and sighed. “How do we even begin to start narrowing down what this thing is? Is there any connection between Callie and Oliver?”

Sam pushed both of the files across the table towards Dean. “Other than the fact they were roughly around the same age, 28 and 29, that’s all I’ve got. Callie worked at the local theater. Oliver was a second grade teacher. They live in different neighborhoods and run in completely different social circles. Oliver is well known in town and is one of the most popular teachers at the elementary school. Callie was quieter. Both of them have helped out with work around the town in different ways- Oliver volunteers at the local animal shelter and Callie helped out at the elderly home. As far as I can tell, both of them are pictures of model citizens, just in different ways.”

Flipping open the files, Dean scanned the contents as he listened to Sam rattle off the big details. “So either they’re both hiding something and that’s why they were targeted, or they both really were squeaky clean and that’s why they were taken.”

“This whole town is filled with good people, Dean. That doesn’t exactly narrow it down for who could potentially be taken next. And we can’t exactly protect an entire town,” Sam said. “Something about it still feels sacrificial.”

Dean sighed, dropping his head down to the table before muttering, “We’ve talked about this, though. No signs of a God in town. No happy success stories or flourishing town.”

They lapsed into silence for a few minutes, and all Dean could hear was the clacking of Sam’s keys as he typed. He let his eyes close, mind wandering back to Cas and their date tomorrow night. God, he was so freaking whipped it was unbelievable. How was he even supposed to tell Cas he’d never been ice skating in his entire life? He was going to look like a complete idiot falling on his ass on the ice tomorrow. And yet, despite the impending humiliation, Dean’s heart was hammering against his chest just at the mere thought of seeing Cas again.

He replayed the almost-kiss over again for probably the hundredth time that night, and he felt himself flush. Cas’ lips… God, even just the briefest brush had been enough to have Dean breathless. He’d been half tempted to walk out of the motel and find Cas when Sam suggested it, merely because he could barely get his brain to focus on anything except kissing Cas and how damn good those chapped lips would feel sliding against his own.

When his phone buzzed on the table, breaking his wandering thoughts, Dean all but hurled himself to pick it up, hoping it was another text from Cas. When he saw Bobby’s name, he scoffed and dropped the phone back down again; trying desperately to tamper down the disappointment that it wasn’t Cas.

“You’re like a lovesick teenager,” Sam muttered from the other side of the table.

“Shut up, no I’m not,” Dean snapped back instantly.

“Sure you’re not. That wasn’t a predictable reaction to thinking your crush has texted you only to find out it wasn’t him,” Sam said, raising an eyebrow.

“Go screw yourself. I don’t have a crush. I’m not twelve.”

Sam chuckled, rolling his eyes. “You’re so transparent you might as well be translucent, Dean.”

Pushing his chair back, Dean stood up. “I’m done having this conversation.”

“Where are you going?”

“To get a beer from the fridge because I’m way too sober to be dealing with your crap right now,” Dean muttered, storming off to the small fridge in the room.

Just as Dean got the cap off the beer, a thought flittered into his head. “You keep saying it feels sacrificial, right?”

Sam looked up from his laptop as Dean approached, taking the beer that Dean held out to him as a peace offering. “Yeah, but as you keep pointing out, there’s no signs of a God.”

“Right, but what if the sacrifices aren’t being done by a God, but being done to appease a God? Something that was protecting and serving the Gods. Almost a middle man between the Gods and the people.”

Sam thought about it for a second before nodding. “We are days away from the winter solstice. And all the patterning shows the sacrifices leading right up to that time frame. And you said it when we left the scene, the way her body was cut up, it was precise; extremely ritualistic.”

“No blood left in her, either. And no obvious signs of vamps draining people around here. A blood offering?”

Sam hummed, before he started typing with renewed interest. “You might be onto something. I’ve got a couple theories. Why don’t you put a call out to Bobby to see if he knows anything, and I’ll hit the lore.”

“Got it,” Dean said, grabbing his phone and taking his beer with him as he stepped outside to call Bobby. After explaining everything that was happening with the case and the details they’d picked up so far, Bobby promised he’d do some research of his own and call if he found anything useful.

By the time he’d finished his call with Bobby, Dean had finished his beer and he was pleasantly warm inside despite the cold wind.

In the morning, he’d blame it on the alcohol, which was a weak excuse when he’d only had the one beer. And yet, after he hung up with Bobby, his finger moved to hover over Cas’ contact. And before he could talk himself out of it, he pressed call.

The second the dialing tone rang in his ear, Dean panicked and went to hang up, but Cas answered on the second ring.

“Dean?”

Dean’s heart instantly kicked up in his chest, and he felt the air in his lungs stutter at just hearing Cas’ voice through the phone.

“Hey Cas,” Dean said.

“Did something happen? Is there- has there been another death?”

Dean shook his head, kicking a small bank of snow as he began to walk around the motel. “No. No, I just- I uh, I missed you.”

Shit. As soon as the words came out, Dean winced. What was wrong with him? He really was a lovesick teenager. One date and a botched first kiss and Dean was so smitten he could barely go five seconds without thinking about Cas. Just hearing Cas’ voice made Dean yearn, and the words had slipped out without his control. And yet, he meant them. Even the case was barely keeping his attention right now. He’d already began an internal countdown to their date tomorrow night, which was pathetic and desperate and yet he couldn’t stop himself.

“I’ve kept my phone with me all night since you texted me,” Cas said quietly, before he laughed softly.

Oh God. Was Cas waiting by the phone for him? Jesus. Why was that so cute that it made Dean’s chest ache?

“My witty humor just so good that you were waiting for more?” Dean said, automatically switching to teasing.

“Something like that,” Cas replied, and Dean could almost feel his smile through the phone.

“I um- I have absolutely no idea how to ice skate, by the way,” Dean admitted, reaching up to snap an icicle off the roof just to keep his hands busy.

“You’ve never ice skated before?” Cas asked, shock bouncing down the phone.

“Nope, never.”

“I’ll teach you,” Cas said earnestly.

“Only if you promise not to let me fall on my ass,” Dean said with a laugh.

“I promise I won’t take my hands off of you,” Cas replied instantly, before the weight of his words seemed to settle in the air. Dean swallowed thickly, his stomach twisting on itself at the thought of Cas’ hands lingering on him.

“And what if I can’t keep my hands to myself?” Dean said, words raw and yet filled with an emotion he couldn’t quite name.

“Is that a promise, Dean?” Cas asked, voice slipping an octave lower; sending a thrill down Dean’s spine.

“God, yes,” Dean found himself saying, words ripped from his throat as he was overcome with the urge to grab Cas right now and kiss him. “Swear to God, if you don’t bring mistletoe-”

Cas laughed and the sound made Dean’s chest feel tight. “As long as you don’t leave me standing underneath it alone again.”

“Not a chance in hell,” Dean said. Just as he was about to say something else, his phone buzzed in his hand and a text from Sam flickered across the screen. Time to get back to work. “Listen, Cas, I gotta get back to work. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“7 o’clock, Dean. Don’t you dare be late,” Cas said.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Dean replied, before handing up; heart racing from the call and his hands sweaty just from flirting with Cas again.

As he made his way back to the room, his eyes flickered to an oak tree near the motel; a clump of mistletoe hanging from one of the branches. Reaching up, Dean snagged a few pieces, smiling to himself as he slipped them into his pocket. Just a little bit of extra insurance to make sure he got that kiss with Cas tomorrow.

[buckstaposition]

Shower - Zach Wellison x f!Reader

first part of the Handyman ‘verse

Zach Wellison x non-American, non-native English speaker!Reader

summary: new apartment, new job, unruly shower with bad timing, unexpectedly cute building manager to the rescue ;-)

rating: T

warnings: wet tee-shirts, partial nudity, mildly horny thoughts

words: 2841

Shower

This was not how you had envisioned your first day on the new job. Hell, you hadn’t even made it to the job yet! Instead you stood in the bathroom of the apartment you’d properly moved into just days prior, frantically trying to contain the flooding with one hand while dialing the building manager’s number with the other, praying that he’d pick up even though it was just after six in the morning.

“Hello?” a groggy voice answered on the fifth or sixth ring, and the huskiness of it makes your mind blank for a hot second.

“Hello??” it comes again, sounding more annoyed this time. It snaps you out of your reverie and reminds you that you are currently soaking wet and probably going to be late. On your first day at work.

“Umm yes sorry, this is apartment 4B. My, umm…” you wrack your brain for the words in the foreign language a moment, before deciding that there’s really no elegant way to say it. “My shower has kind of…exploded? I can’t get it to stop.” Help me please, you add mentally.

A groan and the creaking of mattress springs, then “I’m on my way.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, letting go of the busted pipe and drenching yourself anew in the process. Cursing loudly, you whipped off the towel you’d haphazardly slung around yourself and tied it around the pipe, hoping to soak up at least some of the pouring water while you rushed to pull on some actual clothes.

There was a knock on the door just as you were pulling a sweatshirt over your head. You run headlong to the door, yanking it open, only to come face to face with a guy who can’t be much older than you. Why you expected him to be, you don’t know. Perhaps in your mind people who looked after whole apartment blocks were just supposed to be closer to your dad’s age. Perhaps it was the fact that you’d only been told that Mr Wellison was responsible for any repairs and the name had sounded like it should belong to someone more mature. But this one wasn’t. Sleep-rumpled and with a somewhat grumpy expression on his face, yes, but… really he was what your mother would call ‘ideal marriageable age’. Usually while not-so-subtly nudging you. If she wasn’t giving you more overt judgement over her lack of grandchildren, that is.

“Shower you said?” You just blink. His voice is even deeper without the distortion of a phone, rumbling deep and morning-rough. He gestures past you where the shower is still audibly gurgling. “May I come in?”

“Of course!” You jump aside to let him pass. Get distracted by his broad shoulders under a tee-shirt so thin it’s basically transparent, also somewhat rumpled but soft-looking, like it’s the first thing he pulled on after being so rudely awoken by your watery emergency. Or what he slept in. You trail after him, suddenly self-conscious about the as-yet-not-unpacked boxes everywhere. You had only moved in the Friday before, and then the moving company had messed up something with their scheduling or whatever and your stuff had only gotten here late on Saturday, and you’d spent the rest of the weekend putting up the furniture.

He sets his toolbox down by the tub, frowns deeply at the steady spray in multiple directions. You hover awkwardly in the doorframe.

“Okay, first we need to turn off the main water supply.” He straightens, tool in one hand while the other cautiously unwinds your makeshift towel tourniquet, only to receive a jet of water straight to  the face.

“The um, what?” You blink.

“Main water supply. For your apartment. Should be a valve in the kitchen, left from the sink.” He explains patiently, wiping wet hair from his forehead. At least you’re not the only one getting soaked here.

“Right.” You bolt into the kitchen, crouching down beside the cabinets. You have to shove aside two boxes full of pots, pans, and crockery but you manage to wedge yourself into the tiny corner just enough to reach the valve and you turn it until the sound of water gushing from the bathroom subsides. You rush back anxiously, stopping dead in your tracks upon seeing him again. He’s standing in your tub barefoot, tee-shirt partially wet and clinging to his lean torso, but what really stuns you is the way his profile is illuminated by the early morning sun coming in through the small, high windows. Brow furrowed in concentration, an aquiline nose and a strong chin, jawline dusted with what likely was just a five-o’clock-shadow yesterday, and his dark hair still sleep-tousled, curling against his neck, especially behind the ears. It looks soft. He is striking, and you can only stare at him dumbly as he works.

“I need to replace this. It’s busted beyond repair.” He taps the offending pipe, or rather the remains of it, seeing as it’s split down the middle.

“Okay?”

“I have the parts here, too. I can do it now or later if you’d prefer to be there.” He fidgets with a wrench, throws it in the air and catches it without looking, which only directs your attention to his hands which are, of course, just as gorgeous. There’s a small circular tattoo just by the root of his thumb that captivates you beyond reason. All in all it would be great if your brain could remember that it belongs to a smart, accomplished person who graduated from a top university both back at home and here. A person who moved countries (continents even!) to pursue their dreams of professional fulfillment. A person who landed their dream job against a whole slew of competitors. A person who is going to be late on the first day of said job if you don’t get your head screwed on straight pronto. Your eyes zip to the clock, back to him, back to the clock again because your brain didn’t actually register the numbers. Still before seven. You let out a breath in relief.

“I need to leave for work in an hour at the latest. It’s my first day.” You explain, wringing your hands while you do the mental math of getting ready and getting there.

“Alright,” he says slowly. “You probably want to get ready for that. I need to run up and get the parts anyway. Do you want me- are you comfortable with me finishing this up while you’re away or would you rather be there? I can come back when you’re back from work.”

His consideration makes you smile and the tension seep from your neck. “No that’s alright. Do you need my spare key?” Your parents would high key freak out to know you’re letting a man into your apartment unsupervised, but he is the building super, and he gives you no heebie-jeebies whatsoever. In fact, the way he smiles at your answer gives you quite a different feeling in your stomach.

“No, I have a master key. For emergencies.” He straightens, lifting the hem of his shirt to unstick the wet spots from his chest and of course that also draws your eyes to where they have no business ogling. “Right, I’ll just be a moment. I’ll ring, okay?”

“Okay.” You breathe softly, stepping aside to let him pass. He smiles again, apologetic as he squeezes by, but you’re too distracted by the appearance of a lone dimple on his cheek. You watch him cross your apartment in a daze, unmoving until he opens the door and turns around one last time, giving you a little salute before he closes the door behind him.

You get ready and dressed in record time, thanking your past self for thinking to put coffee on before you had to cut the water supply to your place. You’re just fixing yourself a cup when the doorbell rings. You stand frozen to the spot until it rings again, and that propels you forward, yanking the door open.

“I thought you had a key.” You ask, confused. He smiles bashfully, the hand not holding the replacement pipe coming up to rub at the back of his neck.

“Yeah, but I didn’t just want to barge in. Didn’t know if you were done getting ready after all.”

“Oh.” You say, ever the eloquent one. You feel your cheeks warm, touched by his consideration for your privacy. “Mr Wellison, I-“

“Please, just Zach is fine.”

“Zach.” You repeat like on autopilot, and it makes him duck his head and clear his throat, hand scrubbing nervously through hair that looks significantly less messy than it had about half an hour ago. What an interesting reaction. It suddenly occurs to you that the two of you are still standing in your doorway, so you step aside to let Mr Well- …Zach inside. He hurries past you and into the bathroom, not missing a beat in climbing into the tub and starting to remove your busted pipe. You check your watch again, relieved that you still have a little while before you need to leave.

Ever the good host your parents raised, you fill a mug with coffee and carry it over to him.

“Do you take sugar in your coffee? I have milk, too, or sweetener if you prefer.” You announce as you enter. There’s really no good spot to set the mug down so that he could reach it, so you keep it in your hands, hovering awkwardly again. His mesmerizing dark gaze turns upon you in surprise.

“Oh um, black is fine thanks.” Both hands fully engaged, he hesitates a moment before stuffing the wrench into his back pocket and taking the mug from you while saying “You didn’t have to.”

“Oh nonsense, the least I could do is offer you a cup of coffee after waking you up so early.” You smile, and he smiles back, and then your hands brush upon handover because of course they do. There is no spark or shock of electricity, because this isn’t some silly rom-com dammit, but there is a gentle tingle that spreads up your hand at the brief contact.

You check your watch, relieved to find that you have time still. Getting up with the sun suddenly seems inspired rather than just nervous. And as you lean on the frame of your bathroom door, sipping coffee and making light chit-chat with the unreasonably gorgeous man currently standing barefoot in your bathtub, you feel your nervousness for the day dissipating. After all, how much worse could it get than what’s already happened, and not turning out half bad after all?

Zach is polite yet gently curious. Usually he’d have been there for the handover alongside the owner of the building, but a broken sink on the fifth floor had kept him away.

“Seems to be a recurring theme. Should I be worried? Perhaps look into finding another place?” You joke and he starts and stops for just a millisecond, then starts again wrenching at the misbehaving pipe. He’s almost got it.

“No! No, I mean… that won’t be necessary. I can get it fixed, if something breaks. That’s my job after all.”

“Oh relax, I was-“ it’s at this precise moment that he gets the pipe loose finally, only it dislodges something and what looks like a bucket’s worth of water pours out and over poor Zach, drenching him completely. You yelp and jump out of the way on instinct, despite being far enough to only catch a few tiny droplets.

Zach breathes deeply a moment, hands on his hips as he considers his sopping wet hair, his now dripping clothes. The thin tee-shirt clings to every curve and dip of his lean torso and it is severely distracting, and you should feel at least slightly bad for how unabashedly you stare but can only find it in yourself to be flustered, face heating up so much one could probably fry eggs on your cheeks right now.

“I’ll umm…” You have to tear your gaze away, hoping it’ll read as shock rather than the fact that you were blatantly checking him out. “I’ll grab you a towel. Wait here.” He grumbles something you can’t quite make out over the rushing in your ears. You run over to the boxes you think hold the rest of your towels. You dig through them frantically, washcloths and your collection of fancy soaps go flying, but eventually you unearth the very fluffy and classy dark grey towels your aunt gave you as a home-leaving gift.

You slide back in on socked feet, thrusting the folded towels at him like they’re radioactive, then doing a double take and then another for good measure, because that drenched shirt that clung to his body like something out of a firefighters’ charity calendar? Gone. Well, not gone. It’s been wrung out and draped over the edge of your tub, but he’s no longer wearing it and you need to pick your jaw up off the floor if you want to retain at least a shred of your dignity.

“Thanks.” He says, taking the towel from you, and your hands brush again and you jump nearly out of your skin. Need to take a step back just to calm down. And why did you even need coffee again because somehow you’ve never felt more alert than in this very moment.

And you’re not ogling him, no – that would be inappropriate to the highest degree. You just can’t help but to sneak glances as he wraps the larger towel around his unreasonably broad shoulders and uses the smaller one to squeeze the wetness out of his hair, to wipe it from his eyes. He’s trim, lean – almost a bit skinny if you’re being honest, like he’s not been as accustomed to sufficient and regular meals as any person should be. There are some scars cutting through the smooth expanse of his golden skin, illuminated fetchingly by the early morning sun. Your mouth runs dry and you find yourself hunting for your abandoned coffee mug. It’s on the counter above the now torn-open moving boxes, having gone tepid. Not that you care. You throw it back, grimace at the way grounds and sweetener have collected at the bottom. One more reluctant glance at the clock. You should be on your way, just to have the time buffer you planned in to find your way, to find parking, to account for morning rush hour-

Carefully you poke your head into the bathroom again. He turns towards you, biceps coiled as he still rubs at his hair, more damp than wet now, though some strands curl enticingly around his face, over his forehead. You want to run your fingers through it solely to see whether it’s as soft as it looks. But you don’t have the time, not right now.

“I umm, … I have got to go now.” Besides, you only just met. You barely know him. You need to calm down. “Are you going to be okay here?”

“I think the worst is behind us now.” He grins, and you don’t know whether to be more distracted by the reappearance of the dimple or the two water droplets having a race down his abs. You gulp. Calm down, dammit!

“O-okay-“ You straighten, all but physically slapping some sense back into yourself. “You’re welcome to the rest of the coffee. And umm, thank you again. This is probably not how you envisioned your morning.”

“Death match with temperamental pipes? Happens more often than you think. The company’s not usually this pleasant though.” He has the nerve to wink. Standing there, half naked in your bathtub, towel slipping like some steamy romance novel cover nonsense, hair sticking up at odd angles in places and altogether messier than when he first came down here, and he winks at you! To his credit, he looks mortified by his own courage just a split second later, hands tightening around your towel. You need to get out of here before you do something stupid.

“Well, I will see you around.” You back out of the bathroom, skittish like some woodland animal. Barely think to grab all your things - purse, keys, lunchbox, water bottle, phone (plus charger, just in case). You make it to the front door, breathe deeply for a moment, collecting yourself. Throw one last glance back at him through the open bathroom door. He smiles, and you mirror it. He waves, awkward and endearing, the wrench he’d picked back up clanging against the shower’s controls, making him jump, making you snort in turn.

“Bye, Mr Well- …Zach.” You call out, halfway through the door already. Somehow you have managed to eat up your precious time buffer and now you really have to hurry. You’ve almost pulled the door closed behind you when you hear his answering ‘Bye, 4B. See you around!’

You’re halfway down the hallway when you realize it. You haven’t even told him your name!

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

Taglist: @cryptkeepersoul @cinewhore @heatherbel @keeper0fthestars @opheliaelysia @fromthedeskoftheraven @pedropascallion @yespolkadotkitty @knittingqueen13 @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @dornish-queen @beccaplaying @oldstuffnewstuff @teaofpeach

[gallickingun]

basic manga cap tutorial || ibis paint x

I got a request on how I color my manga caps (you can check them out in #morgan-colors-bnha and #morgan-colors-hq), so I thought I’d do this step by step tutorial that walks you through my process!

I color and draw on my phone (Samsung Galaxy Note10+) using the stylus provided with the phone, however you can use your finger. For manga cap coloring, I use Ibis Paint X, which you can find HERE for the Google Play Store, and HERE for the Apple App Store! It is a FREE app, and actually really helpful for a number of reasons, which I’ll show you down below! It does go without saying - there are a limited number of brushes that you get with the free section, but I haven’t found them to be too limiting, however I’ve only done basic manga cap coloring. You can watch short ads (I haven’t watched any, so I can’t vouch for the obscenity of them) to use the non-free brushes for a short period of time, though. 

The first part of this tutorial is going to be showing you how I took THIS SUGAWARA manga cap and turned it into the one you see HERE (both as pictured on the header image). The second part of this tutorial, attached at the bottom, is a timelapse video where I show you how to turn THIS BOKUTO manga cap into the one you can find HERE. 

Alright - without further ado, let’s get into the tutorial! As always, if you have any questions, please feel free to drop by my ASK BOX! Hopefully this is in depth enough without being too confusing. ❤

I’m doing this in steps so it can be in depth and informative enough, but I know that can become a little confusing, so I’m going to do my best to explain each step. I’ve also highlighted using little yellow boxes where I’m referencing, as pictured below. 

To start, here are the ways I usually find manga caps: 

1. Google searches, Pinterest searches, etc. Sometimes they’re already transparent, other times they’re not. I’ve found that I’m able to use the non-transparent ones because of the tools that are within Ibis Paint X.

2. Tumblr blogs - there are some blogs that are meant purely for transparent manga caps. 

3. Manga scans. I, personally, haven’t used manga scans, but I know others that use them! They usually require some extra clean up, which can take extra expertise. Removing speech bubbles, backgrounds, etc. 

Please remember to provide credit if it’s requested from the original poster!

Step #1: Open IP (Ibis Paint - I’m not going to say it every time because WOW that would get repetitive) and click on “My Gallery”.

Step #2: This is your gallery - as you can see, all of my prior caps are here, and this is where you will either open an old cap and keep coloring, or start a new one. In the bottom lefthand side, you see I’ve highlighted the “+” sign. This will bring you to the next screenshot.

Step #3: This is where you can choose if you want to create your own canvas, or create a canvas based off of the imported photo. Since I don’t do many “official” manga cap posts where I create a full image set from them, I usually just click on “Import Picture”, and go from there! However, if you want to create an image canvas, and import the picture once you’ve gotten the canvas open, please see Step #6 for how to import the image once you’ve already created a canvas!

Step #4: This is the screen that should pop up every time you import an image. When you’re doing manga caps especially, you’ll want to hit “Ok”.

Step #5: I believe these are the automatic settings, however if they’re not on your app, these are the settings I use when selecting how to extract the line drawing. Black at 0%, White at 100%, and Middle at 50%. This will remove the background from the manga cap, and only leave the dark line art remaining.

Step #6: This is what the layer should look like once you’ve extracted the line drawing. See highlighted the “+” button - this is how you will add new layers. I chose to add a new layer, which you can see in Step #7. However, if this is where you want to add an image, see the highlighted camera button. This will let you choose an image from your camera roll and import. The “Extract Line Drawing” option will appear each time that you import an image, so don’t worry about triggering it! It will trigger itself!

Step #7: Here is the new layer! I cut out the screenshot from before, but each new layer shows up on top, so I had to use the three little lines on the righthand side to drag it beneath the layer of the Sugawara manga cap layer.

Step #8: I used this new layer to import a photo of Sugawara in his uniform from a quick google search. I actually end up grabbing another one just to make sure I know what the bottom half of his uniform looks like, but I don’t show it just yet. Because the layer is behind, it shows up underneath Suga’s face. I end up erasing the parts that interfere with the cap here in a bit. 

Step #9: When you click the brush button down at the bottom, this selection screen comes up. There are a ton of brushes to choose from, but for the base colors, I use “Dip Pen (Hard)” at 100% opacity. I’ve shown it highlighted here!

Step #10: Now we’re going to create our color palette. Sometimes I will find color palettes online And import them, but for the sake of simplicity, I’m going to use this photo of Suga along with another one that I nab later to create the palette. The way you use the “dropper” tool (if you’re familiar with Photoshop) to select the colors from another portion of the image is to press down rather hard, and then this circular selection tool will pop up. You can keep the pressure and drag it to the specific spot you want to pick up a certain color for. I’ve found that it’s best to do this with my finger instead of my stylus. I’m not sure if it’s because the heat of my finger and the change in pressure is easier to pick up, but that’s what works for me! 

NOTE: It is important to note that if you have the eraser tool selected instead of the brush tool, you won’t be able to use the color selector. This might come as second nature to some of you, but it STILL makes me screw up from time to time, haha. 

Step #11: Using the dropper/color selection tool from Step #10, I create a small color palette, as you can see in the upper lefthand corner of the image in this step. I grab both the lightest and darkest shades from the different things I’ll need to color in for the cap. I picked up the highlights and shadows of Sugawara’s skintone, eyes, hair, and jersey. I just draw in little overlapping circles so I can switch back and forth between the colors 

Step #12: I added an additional layer in the very back of this image, and colored it in completely using a blue shade. This will allow me to make sure that I’ve filled in all of the space behind the manga cap. It’s important to note that in order to color the line art in later, you’ll actually need to “overdraw”. We’ll touch on that more later. 

Step #13: As I show here, I have a layer where I use the singular skin tone shade and color in behind the manga cap, filling in all the spaces where Sugawara’s skin is showing. I usually use a different layer for each different shade/color just in the event I need to do a bunch of erasing, or if I need to change the layer style later. 

Step #14: Here is where I show how I “overdraw”. I’m not sure if you can see it very well here in these screenshots, but the way that these manga caps are drawn, sometimes the line art isn’t “clean”, it looks more shaded/scratchy. So, in order to combat white space, I usually overdraw and then go back in with an eraser. You can see in Step #15 the size brush I usually use - somewhere between 2.0-4.0, but most of the time I use a 3.0 size brush. I’ll go back in with the eraser with a similar size on the easy parts, and then all the way down to the smallest size - 0.3 for really close quarter erasing. 

NOTE: It’s important to realize that the smaller the eraser, sometimes the circumference of the eraser can be really light in opacity as well. You can help this with the intensity of the pressure that you use with your stylus/finger, but I’ve found that sometimes using a really small eraser can be counterproductive. There are times where I’d rather “over” erase in which I actually erase into the cap and then redraw using a small brush size. You’ll have to play around with eraser/brush size and such to see what works best for you!

Step #15: Here is the skin all colored in! You’ll notice I colored in his eyes and mouth, which are going to end up being white in the end. I do this because usually it’s easy to forget that you need to color things in white if you’re doing it against a white background. I oscillate between the colored background and the white/transparent one because sometimes it can be tough to look at that bright color all the time. I’ve found that this is more of a tip/trick for me to be able to remember to color in his teeth and eyes and even sometimes the brow or other features! In the end, this just works for me. You don’t have to do this step!

NOTE: As I stated in Step #14, using pressure can change things. The same goes for this specific pen type - the dip pen. I use about size 3.0 most of the time, but I can actually do really detailed work with this size pen (see Suga’s ears, the spaces between his hair, etc.) by using lighter pressure. I do have a stylus, so this is a lot easier for me. The pressure was a little tricky for me to get down in the beginning, but once you realize how soft/hard you need to press down, you can use bigger brushes for even smaller areas. I find that makes it a lot easier for me, since I don’t have to keep changing the brush tool - which you can do using the sliding bar at the bottom of the screen labeled “Thickness”. The thickness of a brush is the circumference it has when you are using the hardest version of pressure you can muster, so keep that in mind!

Step #16: Here is where I do the basic coloring for the skin, hair, and eyes. These colors will be relatively the same as the colors from the palette, because there is not a “gray cast” caused by the line art sketch from the manga cap. This means that the skin color that is showing in the manga cap that I’ve colored is pretty close to the original color from the screencap from the anime/the palette that I’ve got in the upper lefthand corner. I do FLAT coloring for this - aka NO SHADING YET. So I only use the LIGHTEST shade for the hair and skin - the ones farthest to the left on the palettes for each section. I do use the DARKEST shade for the eyes, but that’s because usually the lighter shade is the one you use most sparingly, where as with skin, the darker shades are used for shadows only and aren’t used in excess.

NOTE: As previously stated, I do a separate layer for each different color. At this point there should be six layers, as follows (from the bottom up):  Layer 1: Background Layer (Mine is blue, but for the sake of easy viewing, I made it white.) Layer 2: “Notes” Layer - this is where I keep my notes, as in the reference photos, color palette, and any other things here and there.  Layers 3-5: These are the colored layers - skin, hair, and eyes.  Layer 6: Manga Cap Line Art

Step #17: Here’s where I’m showing the two different orange tones. This is what I meant in Step #16 - The original orange shade is the lower part of Suga’s collar - as you can see, the line art shading makes the color a lot more muted. I used the color wheel to find something brighter, just for a comparison shot. I still choose to use the traditional palette that I pulled from the anime screencap. 

Step #18: Now that I’m ready to color the manga cap pieces that are skewed by shading (i.e. his jersey here), I usually turn the manga cap down in opacity, so I’m able to recognize where I need to fill in! This is where I fill in the blue of the jersey, the orange of the collar and other accents, as well as the off-white shade for the number and the line accents. 

Step #19: Using the eraser and smaller brush sizes, I fill in all of the flat colors. No shading yet!

Here comes the time consuming, nuances...

Step #20: I’ve turned back on the colored background layer - sometime between when I started and now, I changed it from blue to pink. If you can zoom in on the image, you’ll see the boxes in white contain “errors”. This is areas where there are “holes” in the coloring, or where I’ve gone outside the lines. I’m going to go back in and clean this all up with the eraser and some more brush work. 

NOTE: This is very important, especially if you’re trying to make this a transparent image, or if you’re going to do the extra steps and color in the line work. Any holes, overdrawn, or underdrawn areas will make the final drawing look a little funky.

Step #21: Here is the shading! Honestly, this cap kind of shaded itself, haha. Some manga caps have “built in” shading, as you can see on Sugawara’s arms and neck. I added some shading to his hair and face, trying to use the anime caps as a reference. I’m not very good at shading yet, but I wanted to show it here so you guys could see!

I used the darker shades from the palettes on the eyes, hair, and skin. I didn’t do any shading to the jersey because the manga cap lines already skew it so much, that it didn’t really seem necessary. This can be a really hit-or-miss time, both with areas that you choose to shade, as well as the colors that you use. I would really suggest searching for skin tone palettes if you’re not using the anime screencaps for reference!

Step #22: For my shading, I actually use “clipping” effects. As you can see, the two layers that are highlighted are clipped to the layers beneath. This means that the coloring on the clipped layer will “attach” aka clip itself to the layer beneath and that layer only. So, for the shading of the skin, hair, and eyes, I chose to clip the shaded parts to the base coloring, that way even if I over drew, the colors wouldn’t bleed together. 

I did more of what’s called “cell shading” for this manga cap, as well as the Bokuto one that I do in the timelapse video below. What is cell shading? This wiki page explains it pretty well, but basically it’s more “harsh” shading where there’s not necessarily an airbrushed quality to it, it’s more blocky. You can see I only chose to use one color of shading, which makes the contrast much more stark. IP does have several airbrush tools, I’ve used them in my Bakugou manga caps for his gauntlets, and they work really well! 

I brought up earlier that it’s important to color your base colors all the way to the edges of the manga cap line art. This clipping effect is why. On Suga’s neck and ears, the darker shade that I used for his skintone goes to the edge and actually underneath the line art of the cap, because it is clipped to the base skintone layer beneath. Had I not made sure to go all the way to the edge of the line art, this would be much more choppy, and there would be white space between Suga’s ear and his hair! 

Step #23: Here is the extra step - line art shading! This can be tricky, depending on the complexity of the line art, the shading, etc. Usually, in choosing a shade to color in the line art, I grab the darkest shade for that section, and then grab something even darker. As seen in Step #18, there is that drop down box that is currently listed to “Normal” - this will need to be set to “Screen” for the current line art coloring layer. You’ll also need to “clip” the layer you’re using for the line art color to the manga cap, meaning it will need to be on top of the manga cap layer - and therefore, should be the highest layer in the image.

For this image, I only did line art coloring on Suga’s face, hair, arms, and neck. I was really satisfied with leaving the jersey alone so far as coloring. I did this mostly because of the sketchy quality of the cap, the line art would be really involved and complicated, and it just wasn’t worth it to me (so sorry lol), and I liked how it looked with the darker color outlining it anyway. 

Also, I added little details like making the sweat on Suga’s face outlined in white! And yes, I do know that missed Suga’s beauty mark, but we’re going to pretend I didn’t just do that. I love you, Koushi, please forgive me. 

And that’s it! I’m sure there are easier ways to do things, or better ways, haha. But this is my beginner tutorial (as in I’m the beginner, lol). I hope that this helped anyone whose doing it for the first time! I stated this before, but if you have any questions, please feel free to hop into my ASK BOX and ask me! I’d love to help anyone out! And I’ll do my best! 

See below an additional manga cap coloring - Bokuto Koutarou this time! I thought doing a timelapse video of me actually coloring in the cap would help you guys out! 

PLEASE BE AWARE: This video is in 2x speed so it could not be forever long and really boring lol. With that being said, I do spin the screen around several times while coloring in the cap - this could make you nauseous, so please beware of that before you watch!

Here is a link to the time lapse video on YouTube! 

A special thanks to @cutesuki--bakugou​ who helped me a lot while I was coloring my original caps, and also to @writeiolite​ who nudged me in the direction of finally starting to color manga caps! And a little thanks to @rouge-heichou​ since I bugged her about a couple of things as well. And then as always, a huge thanks to @candychronicles​ because she keeps me sane. Also a special mention to @pixxiesdust​ because she does really cool gifs and has done a wonderful job in the bookclub of trying to share her knowledge with everyone else.

Disclaimer: I’m no artist, this is just for fun! I’m sure my shading and line art can use some work.. but I’m not focusing on that! Instead I’m just going to keep playing around and having a good time ❤

[detectivedreameater]

Way Down We Go || Erin and Marley

ALTERNATIVE TITLE: What Do You Do With A Drunken Mara? TIMING: Current PARTIES: @corpse--diem​ and @detectivedreameater​ SUMMARY: Marley shows up at Erin’s after realizing she has nowhere else to go. CONTENT: Heavy drinking, Domestic abuse mention, Head trauma, Chronic Illness

Everything was shit. 

Marley held the empty tequila bottle upside down, wondering if, somehow, more liquid would drip out if she waited long enough. Inevitably, it remained empty, and she dropped it on the counter, where it cracked in half. Shards of glass spread across the granite top and Marley watched them curiously. The empty bottle had disappointed her just like everything else in her life. Marley smashed her palm into the glass and pushed herself up from the floor. Little shards dug into her hands, but it was nighttime, and that meant it didn’t matter. What did matter was getting more alcohol. 

She was far too wasted to drive, so walking it was. She threw on her coat and grabbed her keys-- at least, she hoped she grabbed her keys, the world was too blurry and too fuzzy for her to really be sure-- and stumbled out the door. Hopefully it locked, she couldn’t be sure of that either. And at this point, she couldn’t be sure if it was the alcohol or her fucked up head that was blanking her memory. Probably both. The liquor store was close enough that the walk seemed like nothing. She stumbled along the sidewalk a few times, pausing to blink and glare at a couple walking by who stared at her. She didn’t even realize why until she was staring at her own reflection in the glass window. She saw bright, red eyes glowing back at her, blurry and smudged somehow. Were they real? “Shit,” she muttered, digging in her pockets. Slid on her sunglasses and prodded the door open. The little bell chimed and Marley winced at the grating sound, giving a glare from behind her shades at the man behind the counter. He’d seen her in there plenty of times, and he knew not to question her. She grabbed two more bottles of tequila and a handle of whiskey, slammed her cash down, and shoved her way back out of the store.

Only, now, she didn’t feel like going home. It was cold and empty and there was broken glass all over the floor. At the thought, she glanced down at her palm and found that the little shards of glass were still sticking out of it, ridges of blue crusted around them. Was it not nighttime? How long had she been walking? She squinted up at the sky and found the sun sitting heavily just above the trees. “Shit,’ she mumbled again, before starting back on her trek. Her feet moved on their own and she didn’t care to question where they were taking her. Down a familiar road, up to a familiar door, through a familiar hallway that she was more than sure she should have recognized. But she didn’t. Not until she was slamming a fist on the door, the now open tequila bottle heavy in her hand. Took a sip, and waited. 

When the door opened, Marley furrowed her brows. “Erin,” she slurred, “I didn’t know where else to go.”

It felt good to put a suit on again. Wasn’t a thought Erin thought she’d ever relish in but here she was, excitedly brushing the wrinkles and Betty fuzz from the crisp sleeve. It’d been a while since she’d overseen an actual funeral but the decedent was an old client, who cared little about the news stirrings Jack Nichols’ daughter had been the star of over the past year. They had a plan and trusted them to see it through and that’s exactly what Erin had done. Ordered the casket, arranged the home viewing and after seeing that their loved one had been properly laid to rest in Strawford, she could kick off her heels knowing the job was done. This normally was her least favorite part of the funeral director gig--the embalming and reconstruction was where she truly shined. But this was... nice? This was a taste of normal. Real, actual normal. So much so that it practically felt foreign at this point in her life.

A pounding on the door startled her from a half-doze on the couch. That was weird itself--she didn’t really doze or sleep without some sort of assistance, especially not the last few months. The overwhelming silence shrouding the apartment must have lulled her into it. Was she finally getting used to that too? She pulled herself up and wiped the sleep from her eyes, halting at the sight (and smell) of a very drunk Marley swaying in her doorstep. “Marley? What--I--” she stuttered for a moment before she properly found her words. “What’s going on? What happened?” Instinctively she reached for her before better senses and bitter words reminded her the gesture was likely unwelcome. Her concerned text and phone calls had gone unanswered for over a week now, leaving Erin to toil and worry in utter radio silence. “Come in?” she urged gently, gesturing with her hand, eyes pleading but the relief in her voice was equally transparent. She wasn’t okay but she had come here. That was--well, that was a start. “Please?”

Marley drank in the sight of Erin and wished it were alcohol instead. She remembered the bottle in her hand then, and unscrewed the top with some effort and took a swig, stumbling into the doorway without saying anything. She stopped in the entryway, though, and just stood still for a moment. Erin was surprised to see her, why was that again? Her face screwed up in a strange expression as she tried to remember, then looked back at Erin. “I’m angry at you,” she pointed out, reminding herself out loud why she shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t have come here. “I shouldn’t have come here.” But where else was she going to go? Back to her depressing apartment where she was alone and trying her most desperate to wash out the taste of Lydia from her mouth? From her body? Her mind? She pointed at Erin with the hand holding the bottle. “My head is all messed up because of you, you know,” she hiccuped, swaying again. “This is-- I should’ve seen it. I should’ve known. What kind of a...what kind of a cop doesn’t know they’re fucking a murderer…” she grumbled, swaying into the nearby countertop and just barely catching herself, wincing at the pain in her hand where shards of glass still stuck. She sank to the floor, clutching the bottle. “How did I not know…” she slurred, looking up at Erin with dazed eyes.

Erin didn’t immediately notice the bottle in her hand but she cringed once she watched Marley twist off the lid--the tequila bottle, the way she stumbled, the venom in the way she spat those first words seeping in like a slow dread. Equal parts guilt and frustration. I’m angry at you. I shouldn’t have come here. Erin crossed her arms over her chest, watching her from a small distance, trying not to satisfy her words with an obvious reaction, even if they still stung like a dagger pressing slowly between her ribs. “Yes, I know,” she answered quietly. Erin’s eyes narrowed at the murderer part. Had something happened? A bad case or--? She didn’t get a chance to press her on the question when she saw the dark blue smears of blood marring her countertop. “Damn it, Marley,” she cursed under her breath. Grabbing a towel, she sunk to Marley’s level, holding out her hand. “Let me see,” she spoke almost as if she was borderline scolding a child, buffering her tone with thinly veiled concern. “What didn’t you  know?” She asked more softly, hoping the question would distract her enough to allow Erin to inspect the cause of her bloody hand.

Marley didn’t fight Erin and held out her hand. How’d glass get stuck in her hand? She couldn’t recall. Something about an empty bottle. How long ago had that been? Blinking heavily, Marley frowned again. “I never told you,” she mumbled, only half coherent. She could barely understand herself, or the thoughts that were piling up in her head like a dammed river. “I never told anyone. I never tell anyone, anything.” She watched Erin carefully, lifting the bottle once more to her lips. She didn’t even taste it anymore, couldn’t remember which bottle this was, or even how long she’d been drinking. How many hours, how many days. “What day is it?” she asked Erin through a fog, eyes dropping to her palm as she watched the other woman clean it up and dig out the shards of glass. “What didn’t I know?” She tried to pull the thoughts back up, but they eluded her, slipping through the crevasses in her mind the more she drank. “Lydia…” she said in thought, “it was about Lydia.”

Erin listened, trying to weave together Marley’s disjointed snippets into something coherent and understandable. “I know that too,” she replied quietly, examining the damage. She was right. She knew next to nothing about Marley’s past. “Stay here. Don’t move,” she said sternly and moved quickly to grab the first aid kit from under the sink. “It’s Wednesday,” she answered softly, though she was only growing more concerned the longer she spoke. “What didn’t you tell me?” She asked, taking her hand again as she started to pick out the glass. Probably so drunk she could barely feel the pinching from the tweezers. Tequila probably went great with whatever pain medication Marley was probably on too. That was great. Erin paused and ran a hand tiredly over her face. So much for that normal afternoon, huh? Maybe this just was her new normal. But the name crept under her skin slowly, gaining traction until they found footing. Lydia. She froze, alarm reaching her eyes.  “Are you talking about Lydia Griffin? The Lydia fucking Griffin from the news? The psychopath who kept and tortured people in her basement Lydia Griffin?”

“I liked it that way,” Marley said, doing as Erin told her and staying in place, though not just because she told her to. Mostly because the world was now spinning too fast for her to get up without falling over. She set the bottle down next to her. “Wednesday already? Wasn’t it just Sunday?” She’d lost track of the days without a job schedule to adhere to, and because she slept at such erratic times now her mind couldn’t keep up. Day and night often melded into one. Being able to see perfectly in the dark was a hindrance, sometimes. When Marley refocused next Erin was back in front of her plucking glass out of her palm. The world grew fuzzier. “Everything,” she answered after a long time, unsure of when the question was initially asked at this point. Hadn’t it just happened? Her tongue felt thick in her mouth. “Lydia? Do you know her?” Why was Erin talking about Lydia? Oh, right. Marley had mentioned her, hadn’t she. Because Lydia was-- Marley felt the bile rising in her throat again. “She’s dead. They found a dungeon in her basement. I did a background search and she’s-- did you know she’s been famous for several different things? Books, art, music... Always changed her name. That’s what she does. She feeds on people. Like me. I feed on people, I have to feed on people. I don’t want to feed on people but I have to. I try to feed on bad people, though. People who hurt others. Except lately, I mean. I can’t focus enough lately,” she paused, and her mind drifted away from her again. She didn’t know where it went, but when it came back, she didn’t know how much time had passed. Her eyes looked directly into Erin’s. “What were we talking about?”

Erin went quiet and just listened to Marley struggle to answer her questions the best that she could but much of the initial softness she’d greeted Marley with was replaced with confusion and disgust. And whoever this woman was to Marley, it was clear that she had cared for her in some capacity. She didn’t say anything for sometime, delicately wrapping a gauze bandage around her hand and securing it in place. Her heart tugged at Marley’s last question and she couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or the injury that was exacerbating her wild train of thought--or lack of, really. Both, probably. “Thankfully, no. I don’t know her,” she shook her head, gently setting the newly bandaged hand down onto Marley’s lap. Clean and wrapped enough for  now. She snatched the bottle from Marley’s side and set it down out of reach. More questions surfaced and mixed with the ones she already had the more Marley spoke. “Wait, what do you mean? You’re not eating?” She tempered her frustrations at the last question--knew it wasn’t Marley’s fault for forgetting, she knew that, but the impatience was from more than just the forgetfulness. Marley wasn’t taking care of herself in any way, shape or form. And she was frustrated at herself for letting her push her away when she clearly needed help. “Lydia,” she repeated, putting the bottle far behind herself, out of Marley’s reach, and nodded, her voice softening with a tiredness she couldn’t hide. “You were telling me about your fr--” She clenched her jaw, recalling what little she had learned from Morgan. “You were telling me about Lydia.”

“Lydia is not my friend,” Marley immediately hissed, clenching her hands. Oh, that hurt. So did the thought of Lydia. She looked down at her hand and noticed the bandage. “She was-- she was my--” And what even was Lydia to Marley? She wasn’t like Anita. Anita was confusing right now, and painful to think about. And while Lydia was painful, she was not confusing. Marley knew where Lydia stood, knew what she’d wanted from her, knew what they were to each other. “I broke up with Anita,” she finally said, and the hurt she’d caused herself in that action was not only apparent in her voice, but the way her eyes burned with tears. “Lydia filled the hole. She was supposed to understand how I feel, because she got hurt, too. Just like me.” Lifted her hand to touch her head, her temple, where the scar surely sat under her bundles of hair. “She was the only one who could understand and she was supposed to help me get better and now she’s--” Marley put her face in her hands, shaking her head for a moment, scrubbing away the tears that never quite got the chance to fall. “They found blood. And several locked rooms. They found fucking people in her house. She was a monster,” Marley breathed, ragged, reaching for the bottle she’d set beside her, but finding empty space. “I can’t concentrate enough to feed.” She twisted to look for it but it was gone. “Where’s the bottle?” she slurred, leaning forward. “Give it back. Just-- give it back.”

So her “not” friend was both a horrible person and dead and she’d broken up with Anita on top of all of this? Two bonds severed, no matter how it was spun. Two of the very few bonds Erin was sure Marley had. She wouldn’t be here otherwise, right? The torrent of emotions were ripping through Marley right before her very eyes and it was painful to helplessly watch them unfold. Erin could be here. Could bandage her up and put her to bed but these were things Marley had to work through without a bottle of tequila to the face. “What? Oh, no,” she shook her head, sliding back and pushed the bottle farther away from them. “You’re done.” She said without even a hint of uncertainty in her voice. If there was anything she was sure of right now, it was that Marley was done drinking. Shaking her head, she let out a long breath, her eyes glued to Marley. “That sounds… horrible. I don’t--whatever she was to you, I’m sorry she left you in the way that she did.” She paused for a long moment, trying to put the pieces together a little better but she had a feeling she wouldn’t get the full story until she was sober--even that was iffy, though. “I guess you don’t want to talk about Anita, either, huh?”

“I don’t care that she’s gone,” Marley snapped, reaching for the bottle again, finding Erin blocking her way. “She deserves to be gone, she’s dead and she deserves it. I trusted her and I opened myself up to her and she was that and I didn’t even notice.” And maybe, she thought, she deserved what Lydia got, too. She reached again for the bottle, feeling something she did not want to express heave inside of her. It made her entire body feel heavy. “She told me I was good, that I could be good-- but how good can I be if that’s the person she was?” She was rambling now, the words falling out of her mouth before her mind had time to process them. She pushed against Erin. “I need to get the taste out,” she begged, reaching for the bottle again, “I need her out of my mouth.” She didn’t want to talk about Anita, she didn’t want to talk about anything. She never did. She still wasn’t sure why she’d come here, she was still mad at Erin. She grappled, instead, with the counter, trying to pull herself up. She was reminded, with a jolt, that her ribs were still broken, like everything else inside of her. “Anita deserves better,” she said, clinging to the countertop, “I’m not whole enough anymore.”

“No one’s good, Marley. Not completely. You’re reaching for something impossible so you’re going to be disappointed if you keep trying,” Erin informed her quietly, but matter of factly. Maybe it was her recent raging cynicism but she felt strongly about that. “All you can do is try to be better than you were the day before, I guess.” She hadn’t figured that part out. All Erin knew was that she had to just keep going. That’s all she knew to do, anyway. Marley had gotten to the point where just couldn’t go any further, it seemed, and she wondered how far off she was from that point herself. Wouldn’t be today. Couldn’t be today. Marley needed someone and in her belligerence, something had told her to come here. So Erin had to be the one to let her fall to pieces, let her have this breakdown. It was well-earned, she knew that too. And so Erin buried the hard, dark ball of anger rising from her gut, took a deep breath, and stood up with the bottle in hand. “No. You’re done.” Turned it upside down in the sink before squatting down to Marley’s level again. Held out her hands, shaking her head. “You’re still you. You’re still the kickass woman who helped me take down a small crime empire. You’ve done and will continue to do amazing things, Marley. And that starts with getting back on your feet. Or at least letting me help you get off the floor. Can we start there?” 

“The fuck do you know about it!?” Marley cried out, shoving back against Erin again. “What the hell do you know about being good or bad? You got to grow up human! You got to grow up knowing what you were! There was no-no-- no struggle to understand what you were or why you were different. Why everyone looked at you like you were poison! You got to grow up knowing what qualifies as good and bad and fit into that mold!” She tried one last attempt for the bottle before hoisting herself painfully up off the floor, pointedly ignoring Erin’s offered help. She groaned in pain, in frustration, legs shaking. “You have no idea what my life has been like, the things I had to do to get where I am. I’ve always been alone, I liked it that way. I’ve done everything in my life alone and then you show up and you-- you make me think I can care and that maybe I don’t have to be alone and-- why-- why couldn’t you just--” she made it two whole steps before she slid back to the floor-- “leave me alone. Why did you all have to make me think I could care about people? Why me? Why did you choose me!?” She was blubbering now, and she knew it, but her brain couldn’t hold the thoughts anymore. She curled her knees up to her chest and dug her hands into her hair, folding in on herself. She hated feeling like this. She just wanted to drink it all away. Drink it all away and maybe then she could finally rest. 

Erin almost stumbled back when Marley shoved her again, pain shooting up through her ribs. She steadied herself, grit her teeth, and backed off to let the air properly come back to her. Quiet in Marley’s outburst. She didn’t have any answers for her, none that she wanted to hear and likely none that Marley would accept from her in this state. So instead she listened and let her cry and sunk down to the floor with her when she caved in on herself. “I can’t relate, you’re right. And I probably won’t ever be able to. I won’t pretend that I can,” she started softly, tugging gently at Marley’s arm, trying to pull her closer. “But I’m here now and I don’t know how to help you, but I can only be here for you if you let me try because you’re my friend, Marley. I care about you more than I ever wanted to, believe me,” she teased lightly but didn’t let go of her arm, tugging her as close as she would allow. Swallowed hard, hesitating for just a moment before pushing on. “But I care about you, and I love you, and I know you care about me too. So just let me help you. Please let me help you.” 

Erin was tugging on her arm and Marley didn’t have enough energy left to fight her. She let her body unfold and fall over into Erin. The world was spinning again. She wanted another drink. She couldn’t remember what time it was. Why was she at Erin’s? What had she been yelling about? Her arms shook with a sudden weight, as if she’d labored with them all day. A shake that had only appeared after she’d awoken from the violent attack. “Don’t say that,” she said, “please don’t say that.” Her chest felt heavy with the words. Or maybe it felt heavy with all the alcohol but she couldn’t decide. “Please don’t love me.” And yet, hadn’t those been the words she’d been aching to hear her entire life? Her legs uncurled and she leaned her head back against the counter, shaking it back and forth. “I can’t do it,” she said, a tad hysterical,“I can’t keep doing this. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, my head hurts all the time, Erin. I’m so tired. I’m so tired, but I can’t-- why...why didn’t you just leave me there?” Her voice grew quieter and she hiccuped again. “I don’t know how to live like this. I keep messing up. All I do is-- I just hurt people. I don’t want to but I can’t stop. And the one time I-- the one time I try, she ends up like that.”

The moment Marley let herself be pulled in, Erin didn’t let her go for even a second. She was gentle, of course, but firm, as if trying to dissuade Marley’s doubts with her grip. She was here and she wanted to be here. “Well, you’re too late. I already do,” she murmured against the top of Marley’s head into her hair. Swallowed back the guilt that rose up her throat like hot bile. “No. Don’t even say that. There’s no fucking way I was going to just leave you there. I mean it and the hospital and I mean it now. Whatever you need, no matter how angry you are at me or how impossible you think this is going to be--I’m going to be here. You’re not alone with this.” She glanced down, putting a finger under her chin to force Marley to look at her, hoping that even  a little bit of her words would sink in. Something had to reach her, right? “You’ve done enough. It’s about time I start returning all of those favors I owe you, don’t you think?” She mustered a half smile, even with Marley’s raw pain staring back at her, gnawing at her insides.

Marley was quiet. For the first time that night, she was quiet. Something bubbled and tore through her chest and clawed its way into her throat, but she didn’t want to let it out. It was angry and full of hurt but it didn’t matter anymore. No amount of anger or rage was going to make the hurt go away. “I’m mad at you,” she reiterated, closing her eyes to stop the world from spinning so much, “I don’t know why I’m so mad at you. Every time I think about that day, I just get mad.” She stayed limp in Erin’s grip, not quite returning the gesture, but not fighting it, either. She wasn’t ready to accept it yet, wasn’t ready to open her chest wide and let someone else climb in. She didn’t know how to mend the last wound. She could still taste Lydia on her tongue. She wanted another drink. “Why won’t you just let me be alone,” she mumbled, but there was no fight left in her voice. Her eyes couldn’t concentrate on Erin as she looked at her, the world fuzzy. For a moment, she was still, eyes unfocusing as if trying to search for something too far off. “Why am I here?” she asked after a quiet moment. “I don’t remember walking here.”

Erin watched the way Marley’s eyes couldn’t quite see hers and when the questions came, she wasn’t completely unsurprised. There wasn’t going to be a coherent conversation tonight, and not one Marley was going to remember in this condition. “You needed somewhere to rest,” she answered. That wasn’t quite the truth but it didn’t feel like a lie either. For all of her anger, all the hurt she carried, she gave in quicker than even Erin had expected. She still didn’t know what to do with the information about this Lydia woman but asking more questions wasn’t going to get either of them anywhere tonight. So instead, she tried again to offer up her hand. “Come on,” she pleaded softly, the gusto gone from her voice. “Just for a little bit. You’ve gotta be exhausted.” She nudged gently, easing herself up from the floor and held her hands out for Marley to take, to let Erin help her. Out of options, out of comforting words or ways to console her, she could only hope for now she would. Even if it was just tonight.

“And I came here because…” she muttered, “where else would I go?” And she was tired. God, was she tired. Marley looked up at Erin and still didn’t quite see her. She was still too drunk to form a coherent thought that wasn’t angry or aggressive or yelling. If those were even thoughts. She’d been all over the place, she could tell that much. She didn’t know how she knew, but she did. Could feel it in her bones. Erin should have been mad at her, too. She hadn’t treated her well at all, even since before this all happened, since before they had fought. Oh, right. They had been fighting. About what, Marley could even begin to remember. Was that part of why she was so angry? Why couldn’t she feel anything else? Erin had always stuck by her, put up with her, and all Marley had done was push her away. She couldn’t understand why she was still around. Marley couldn’t comprehend why she would stay. She had no reason to. And yet, the hand was offered again. And this time, Marley took it. When she stood, the world tilted sideways. She caught herself on Erin as best she could, leaning into her. “I’m so tired,” she muttered back. 

There it was. The resignation Erin knew was coming. She couldn’t pretend she wasn’t relieved. Not much had been accomplished, and Marley hadn’t been here very long, but it was a flurry of intense emotions from start to finish in that short period of time. She caught her, held her steady. “I know,” she said again, rubbing her back gently as she guided her towards her bedroom, little steps at a time. Every movement cautious, gentle, even as she helped Marley out of her jacket and into more comfortable clothes. Like she was afraid she’d spook her suddenly and she’d dash off into the streets again. Knowing how volatile Marley’s emotions were right now, it wasn’t an unreasonable thought. She left only for a second to grab her a glass of water, sitting it by her bedside when she returned. “How’s that? Better? Do you--uh, do you need anything else?” She asked, sitting at the edge of the bed.

Marley let herself be guided towards the bedroom and quietly hated how nice it felt. Being alone in life meant never having anyone around to do this for her. She wanted to go home, but sank onto the bed. It was almost too painful, letting herself have this, when she still felt that emptiness inside of her crumbling away every last part of herself that felt good. When she wasn’t sure if she’d wake up tomorrow hating Erin again. It wasn’t fair, but fair didn’t matter anymore. Not when nothing else mattered, either. Not when time ticked on endlessly and slipped through her fingers like wet sand. She just wanted to rest, for once, and wake up feeling okay. As soon as her head hit the pillow, that ingrained weariness took over her body. Marley didn’t look at Erin at first when she came back in, didn’t acknowledge the water brought in for her. But after a moment, the ache took back over and she reached out, grabbing Erin’s arm. “Lay with me,” she mumbled into the pillow, “I don’t...want to be alone.” Because despite all the times she’d told Erin and Anita and everyone else that she just wanted to be left alone, it wasn’t true at all. And in this moment, her mind clouded with alcohol and tainted affairs, she didn’t have the strength to fight it anymore. Even if it wasn’t fair to ask. “Please.”

Erin didn’t expect that, to say the least, just as she didn’t expect the way her chest seemed to drum a little faster. She stiffened, also highly aware of how awkward she suddenly felt. But she didn’t have it in her to turn her away, not with how sad and soft that plea struck her. The promise of another warm body beside her was all too tempting. Months sleeping beside Nic’s warm, comforting form had spoiled her rotten and she found herself nodding, giving into Marley’s request. “I’ll stay,” she nodded, smiling sheepishly and squeezed the hand gripping her arm. “Of course. I can stay.” She rose from the bed then, deciding against laying down in her work clothes and quickly changed, then slipped in beside her. Sleep sounded pretty goddamn good about now too after all of that. She curled up beside her, not too close, pulling the blankets up over them. Something dancing in her chest settled and stirred all at once. “This good?” She asked, resting her head on the pillow and watching her quietly.  

Marley wondered-- and hoped-- if sleep would come easily. Her entire body felt as if it were deflating into the bed the longer she laid there and she found herself also wondering why Erin’s bed-- why everyone else’s bed-- felt more comfortable than her own. It didn’t matter whose it was, it always felt nicer sleeping in someone else’s bed. Her eyes drooped, but still, sleep did not come. Erin crawled in next to her, just close enough for Marley to feel the weight of her body and the warmth of her skin, but still, sleep did not come. It weighed heavy on her eyelids and in her chest, even as the buzz from the alcohol began to fade from her tongue. But still, sleep did not come. Finally, Marley found the energy to readjust, turning to lay flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling. Without turning to look, she reached over and took one of Erin’s arms and laid it across her. And suddenly, just that simple weight, allowed her mind to relax. She was safe here. Here, she was not a monster. Her eyes closed. “This is good,” she answered finally, her voice barely audible. And after a moment, sleep finally came.

[thats-h0w-th3-light-g3ts-in]

Blind Spot AE

This is my alternate ending for Law and Order: Criminal intent Season 6 Episode 1 Blind Spot.

“Where is she?“ Bobby yelled, pushing the old man against the wall. Declan was aghast by his former mentee’s sudden rage. “I … I don’t know.“ He revealed truthfully, his eyes wide open staring into Bobby’s tired face. Bobby didn’t really want to believe that Declan had anything to do with Eames’ disappearance, but he also couldn’t deny the obvious connections he had found. Sebastian? Was it really an old serial killer coming back murdering all those women? But why Eames? Sebastian was Declan's white whale, so involving Eames wouldn’t make much sense. But why was Declan so convinced Alex was dead? The mere thought of that image send a million shivers down Bobby’s spine. A million questions and not one clear answer. Usually, Bobby broke down a case like this in a clear pattern. First look at the abductee, who were the people close to them, who’d seen them last. But every one of those answers lead back to himself. None of her family had heard from her. It suddenly came to him that there was literally nobody else in Alex’ life except her family and him. This thought was immediately followed by an even sombre thought. What if she was seeing someone, but he didn’t know. What if she had fallen for a maniac psycho? No — he stuffed that thought right to the back of his mind where it had come from. But then again, why the connection to Declan and Sebastian? Bobby’s ability to focus, let alone ask the right questions had been disabled the minute the text message from Alex’ cell phone had come in. He felt like a phone in Airplane mode, able to execute the basic functions but unable to process any information. The sound of someone knocking on the transparent walls of the visitors room suddenly caught Bobby’s attention. It was Captain Ross’ stern look through the glass that made him realise he was still clenching Declan’s collar fast in his fists. He let go of him finally and the old man let out a relieved breath. Did Declan really not know where Eames was? But who would if not him, his mentor? If a guy better at reading serial killers than Bobby himself couldn’t tell him where his partner was held captive, how would he ever find her? Who else knew Sebastian and his MO better than Declan. Bobby wiped the sweat off his forehead as Captain Ross entered the room, Declan still crouched into the corner Bobby had shoved him in. “We’ve triangulated Eames’ cellphone, the signal bounced between three towers within the Red Hook area in Brooklyn.“ Ross announced. Bobby’s glance fell at Declan, to see if Red Hook rang a bell. “Sebastian stuck to the east side area, he wouldn’t have stepped one food into Red Hook …“ Declan exposed, his eyes avoiding Bobby’s. He knew Declan was holding something back. The blood was boiling in his body. “Are you sure?“ Ross asked, also sensing something was wrong with the profiler’s behaviour. „No he is not … what’s in Red Hook?“ Bobby was leaping at Declan again, his fists clenched tightly together. He couldn’t stand any longer that Declan might know where Eames was but didn’t tell him. “Goren!“ Ross hissed at him to stay away from the old man. Bobby obeyed, turning away from Declan, piercing him however with a flaming look. “He knows something…“ he yelled at the Captain, his anger directed towards him now. He dramatically flung his hands in the air and brushed the fingers through his hair. If anything would happen to Alex just because he wasn’t persistent enough to find out the truth, he would never forgive himself. “Sebastian, doesn’t have any connections to Red Hook.“ Declan repeated, stepping out of the corner sitting down at the desk again. “But I do… My brother worked at a butcher shop at the pier. I used to bring Jo there when she was a kid.“ Declan remembered. He was completely calm sitting at his desk, not even pondering about the fact he might just have incriminated himself or his own daughter. He also seemed oblivious to the fact that Bobby was on the edge trying to find his partner and that time was pressing. “Jo. Of course.“ The million thoughts in Bobby’s head suddenly seemed to come in order. Things seemed to fall in place now and it made him dizzy. The only one knowing Declan’s cases as well as himself and maybe Bobby was Jo. She’d grown up on stories of Sebastian as if they were afternoon cartoons. Everything seemed to make sense now, but the warm feeling of puzzle pieces falling together revealing a clear picture didn’t make Bobby any less agitated. He would be calm when they’d found Alex. “What’s there now?“ Bobby asked his mentor. “The shop closed ten years ago, it’s an empty building.“ Declan revealed calmly. Bobby barely let the man finish. He ran out the door determined to walk there if he had to. It was his only chance at finding Eames alive and he was not going to waste one second. Captain Ross started after him, making a dozen phone calls on the way.

Alex had finally been able to get the tie off her eyes, which had been used to blindfold her. She hadn’t heard anything from her kidnapper in what must have been hours so she finally decided to make an attempt to free herself. When her eyes were finally able to focus, she mustered her surroundings. Her stomach dropped as she realised she was hanging from a meat hook screwed to the ceiling, like a pig ready for slaughter. What she had thought was sweat running down her arms had now revealed itself to be blood from the shackles carving themselves into her skin. She’d lost the feeling in her fingertips hours ago but her twirled back shoulders burned like fire. She wasn’t sure if they’d not been both dislocated. Around her she made out empty boxes and a blood stained shower curtain covering the part of the room the screams had come from the night before. She was sick to her stomach thinking a girl had been killed five feet away from her and she wasn’t able to do anything about it. The tips of her toes were barely touching the ground underneath her but she managed to get herself rotating so the hook would unscrew. After what had felt like the millionth turn around her own axis, the hook finally unscrewed and she fell to the floor. As soon as her body hit the cold cement ground adrenaline started raging through her veins. There was no way she would get herself down from there and not be able to get out of this god-forsaken cellar she was in. She picked herself up from the floor and started running through the first door she could find. She ran as fast as the narrow halls allowed it, stumbling over boxes and what looked like dumped furniture. Her heart was almost jumping out of her chest and her lungs hurt from the amount of breaths she took per minute. She had taken the meathook with her and held on to it as if her life depended on it. After what felt like an eternity of detours and dead ends she finally made it to a heavy red bunker door. Although every bone in her body was burning and aching she pulled all her physical strength together and turned the wheel to open the door. Right as she had felt the heavy bolts retract she pulled the door towards her. She used her whole body weight to pull it open. Right as she wanted to escape through it, however, she came to an abrupt halt. She had run headfirst into something. The exhaustion and dehydration delayed her realisation that she’d actually run into a person. As soon as she grasped the fact that someone was clutching her arms, she started fighting. There was no way she had brought herself so far only to run into her kidnappers arms. “Alex, stop. It’s me!“ Bobby wasn’t sure if he should hold on to her or let go. Alex was kicking the air trying to free herself from his tight grip. He didn’t want to hurt her so he decided to let go. After Bobby’s grip loosened she finally took a good look at him. She recognised Bobby’s face in front of her. She stopped in her tracks staring at him fearing she was hallucinating. He grabbed her by the shoulders once again, bending his head down to look directly into her eyes. “Alex, it’s okay, you’re safe now.“ His words echoed in her buzzing head. His face finally came into focus, not only with her eyes but also with her brain. It was actually Bobby, surrounded by SWAT officers in helmets and armour. To his left she could make out Captain Ross’ face. Slowly, she could feel her body collapsing. The Captain’s face merged into one with the SWAT team. She could see Bobby’s mouth moving but she didn’t hear a single word he said, until everything faded to black.

Bobby felt Alex’ feet giving out from under her. He clutched her upper arms tightly with his hands as not to lose her. He let her fall into his arms and slipped his right hand under her knees to pick her up entirely. Her head fell heavy on his shoulder and he carried her all the way back the hallway he’d been coming from. He’d been so worried he’d never see her again. A huge burden dropped from his heart when he found her falling into his arms like she did. It meant she was alive, it meant he was in control now. It meant that nothing could happen to her now unless he let it and he wouldn’t. An ambulance was already waiting outside and he carefully placed her onto the cot. Her skin was grey and her closed eyelids appeared almost blue. Her arms were both covered in blood coming from her bleeding wrists. Her chest moved very shallowly up and down like she was barely breathing. The lump in Bobby’s throat grew with every scratch end every bruise he spotted on Alex’ body. How could he ever have let her get hurt like this? Part of him knew he wasn’t responsible for what had happened to her but a fundamental part of his self-loathing brain blamed himself none the less. The connection between Jo Gage and Alex Eames was none other than him after all. Maybe Jo would have never chosen Alex if her father hadn’t pointed out how much Bobby seemed to care about her. “Please move aside sir..“ A paramedic caused Bobby to zoom back into reality. He realised he was still standing beside the cot holding her hand. He let go of it quickly as not to stand in the way of the paramedics work any longer. He watched Alex being loaded into the ambulance and he lost sight of her as they shut the door and flashed away with sirens and red light. He wiped his nose with his sleeve. “She’s gonna be fine..“ He could feel the Captains hand on his shoulder. He knew she was. He looked down on his blood stained shirt and anger crept up at him again. “Jo. It all makes sense now. She used Eames and the other girls to get Declan’s attention.“ Bobby eventually revealed his theory to Ross. “Let’s find out..“ Ross gestured towards his car, for Bobby to follow him.

Jo had confessed. Bobby had lulled her into a conversation watching her father through the window of the interrogation room until she finally confessed. He wasn’t especially happy to have brought her behind bars, but he knew it was the right thing, to get justice for Eames and the other girls. After two officers took Jo away, Bobby made his way to the hospital. He watched his partner through the little window on the door to her room, before he entered. She was lying on the bed hooked up to all kinds of machines and with bandages around her head and wrists. She looked even thiner than she usually did, but Bobby was relieved to find her awake. He knocked on the door to announce himself then entered without waiting for a response. Alex slowly turned her head towards him and put a weak smile on her face. „Well, you look like shit..“ She greeted him, her voice hoarse and weak. Bobby pushed an audible breath out his nostrils and settled himself on a chair next to her bed. “I’m Sorry!“ He apologised his eyes mustering her pale face. “What for, it wasn’t you was it?“ Alex replied. Bobby shook his head embarrassedly. “Five minutes,“ The nurse warned him and pulled the curtains to give them some privacy. Upon the sound of the metal rings grinding on the pole Alex’ breathing got heavier and faster. She squeezed her eyes together tightly as if she was trying to blend something out of her sight. “That sound?“ Bobby asked. “There was a curtain like this in the cellar. It’s where he tortured a girl, the entire night. There was nothing I could do for her..“ Alex voice broke telling her partner about what had happened to her. Her eyes started glimmering at the thought that she couldn’t help the poor soul screaming and crying only a few feet away from where she was held. „It was Amanda, the video store clerk.“ Bobby carefully revealed. Alex turned her head away as not to have Bobby see a tear escaping her eyes. “There’s nothing you could have done..“ Bobby grabbed her hand squeezing it softly. Alex turned to him again, his warm hand on hers felt so good. “And it wasn’t a him. It was Jo Gage.“ He exposed to her. Alex frowned, not knowing what to make of this information. “Jo? Are you sure?“ Alex couldn’t quite believe it. She had imagined her kidnapper, tried to make out their face although she couldn’t see them. She had thought it was a man, never in a million years did she think it could be Declan Gage’s daughter. She thought she would be happy and relieved hearing they had caught the person who did this to her, but the euphoria was limited. Alex too had felt sorry for Jo. The only thing she had ever craved was attention from her father and the only way she would ever get it was through an act like this. Alex rarely had understanding for the perpetrators actions but in this case it was crystal clear. Jo’s father’s obsession with psychopaths eventually turned him into one as well, and over the years he had successfully driven his own daughter into the same madness. “You think she’ll finally get the attention from her father she’d craved all those years?“ Alex asked. „More than ever…“ Bobby was sure. Alex’ eyelids were feeling like lead. She could barely hold her eyes open for longer than a second. The pain medication made her dizzy and she slowly drifted off. Bobby watched her fall asleep, still holding on to her hand. He was determined to keep holding it and to occupy this seat next to Alex’ bed as long as he had to. The adrenalin this day had pumped through his arteries began to wear off, Alex was safe and he would make sure she’d stay that way. Her breathing was even and peaceful and after a while of watching her chest go up and down, listening to the monotonous peeping of her heart rate he drifted off too.

[deans-baby-momma]

The Padackles Link-Chapter 63

A/N: Thank to @blacktithe7​ for reviewing the last chapter and making me realize I hadn’t posted this one yet. Oops!!! Anyway, this MAY or MAY NOT answer your questions and it MAY or MAY NOT make you all mad, but just know that I have a method to my madness. Bahahahaha!!! As for now, read and enjoy some Padackles. 

Ackles Home

I sit on the edge of the bed, the garment box on my lap, admiring the babydoll lingerie Jensen had apparently purchased. I wonder about when he bought it and how he had gotten it not only into the house but hidden it in our closet. That man continues to amaze me every single day.

The fabric of the nightie is gorgeous; emerald in color with exquisite eyelash lace that is sheer and sexy. Anyone wearing it would definitely feel desirable and wanted. The bralette has strappy details and underwire to support and hold up my boobs- lord knows I need it right now! The bikini briefs are made of the same material with a swatch of cotton lining the crotch.

Along with the teddy is a gossamer chiffon robe of the same green color with delicate ivory lace trim along the opening and capped sleeves.

I anxiously slide the terrycloth robe from my body and pull the negligee on. Walking back into the closet where the full-length mirror is, I stare at myself in the outfit. How the man knew what size to buy was beyond me but the material fit my body perfectly, accentuating each and every curve. I cannot wait for Jay to get back so that I can surprise him!

Glancing at my phone, I am surprised to see that he has already been gone for a couple of hours. ‘God, I hope Dani didn’t give him a hard time when he dropped JJ off,’ I think to myself. I know she wasn’t happy with the fact that I had showed up unannounced to ask if JJ could accompany us on a day out on the lake. If Gen hadn’t been with me, the little girl probably wouldn’t have been allowed to go. Whatever Gen had said to Dani once they went inside had made her change her mind and I will forever be grateful for it. Now I just hope she isn’t taking it out on Jay. It had been my idea, after all. If she wants to bitch and complain to someone it needs to be me.

Brushing those thoughts off, I walk back into the bedroom and grab the fluffy robe I had discarded. Although the lingerie comes with one, it was transparent and I am not about to walk around practically naked. I tie up the robe as I exit the bedroom and head toward the kitchen for some wine and a couple of glasses. My plan is to be on the bed with a glass of wine when Jay gets home; his own glass sitting on the table beside the bed waiting for him.

Padalecki Home

Jared pulls a shirt over his head as he nears the front door. Whoever is on the other side had better have a suitable excuse for interrupting his and Gen’s seldom love-making. Having two small rambunctious and curious kids really puts a damper on regular sexy times.

Turning the knob after unbolting the door, Jared opens it and is surprised to see his co-star, best friend and pseudo-brother standing there. “Jay, what are you doing here?”

“I don’t know, man,” Jensen signs, a fabricated smile painted on his face. “Questioning shit, life.” He chuckles and rubs a hand down his face. “How’d my life get so fucked up?”

Jared just stares at his co-star. He can tell someone had gotten into his head and filled it with a bunch of bullshit and lies and it was going to take a real effort to get him back on track.

“Come on in,” Jared says and steps back to let Jensen in. “Want a drink?”

“Water?”

Jared stops in his tracks. Whatever is bothering him, Jared was sure he needed something stronger than H2O.

Grabbing two bottles of water out of the fridge, Jared hands one to Jensen. “Okay, Jay. What’s up? You never shy away from a drink.”

“Already had a couple at Bob’s,” Jensen tells him, sitting on one of the stools at the kitchen island. “Need to be sober. Too much shit running through my head.”

The sound of footsteps on the stairs causes both men to look toward the entrance to the kitchen. Genevieve appears with a fluffy robe tied around her body and as soon as she sees Jensen, a look of curiosity covers her face.

“Jensen? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be home with Drea? It’s-” she pauses to look at the clock. “-after midnight.”

“Should I? Really? Is she who I should be with?” Jensen questions, which lead to both the Padalecki’s looking at him with alarm written all over their faces.

“What are you talking about?” Gen prompts, confused by his behavior.

“Am I supposed to be with Drea or did I fuck fate and screw up my life by leaving Dani? Are me and Drea even supposed to be anything?”

Gen felt puzzled by his words. How could he be saying something as crazy as that? He and Drea were perfect for each other and they loved one another deeply. How could he even think something so ludicrous? 

“Jensen! What on earth are you going on about? Of course you and Drea belong together. You love her and she loves you immensely,” Gen urged. 

Jensen sighs and takes a drink of his water. “Yeah I do but-”

“There are no buts, Jay! Now, you want to explain to me what the hell got you thinking that way?”

Jensen slumps and places his elbows on the counter, holding his head in his hands. He explained everything to his two best friends; from what Dani insinuated about Drea not watching out for JJ to not correcting Bob when he assumed Jay and Dani were still together.  Jared and Gen sit quietly and listen, getting pissed at Dani’s words. Anyone can see that Drea cares for Jensen’s daughter like she was her own. 

When Jensen finishes his tale, he takes the last drink of water and crumples the bottle in his fist. He waits for the couple to give him a piece of their mind and hopefully figure out how to right whatever is wrong.

After hearing what Dani had said to Jensen, Gen was livid! She couldn’t believe the crap Dani had spewed. She understood Dani being upset about the divorce but she brought it on herself. She was the one who cheated and kept cheating even after they were married. She was the one who was unsure who fathered her child. Jensen had done nothing wrong. 

“Jay, you’ve done nothing wrong,” Gen tells her friend. “This is all just Dani being a jealous and resentful bitch! Drea loves JJ. I know she does, Jared knows she does, and if you can just get Dani’s words out of your head, you know she does.”

Walking around the table to approach Jensen, Gen stood right in front of him. “If she didn’t love that little girl as much as she does, would she had risked Dani’s wrath by going to plea for JJ to join us today for a family day? Would she have made sure that JJ was safe and secure with the boys while we were in the boat? Drea loves that little girl like nothing else. To her, JJ is as much hers and she is yours,” Gen declared. “So get your ass out of your head and get home to your woman!”

"I can't, Gen," Jensen sobs. "How can I look her in the eye when I have all these doubts floating around?"

Jared walks up to his best friend and lays a hand on his shoulder. "Jay. Listen, man. Think about it. Just today, we all were witness just how much Drea loves your daughter. Hell, how much she loves kids in general. Not only did she brave Dani's rage to make sure you got to spend time with JJ but she ensured that all the kids were safe and sound the whole time we were on the boat. And when we ate, who made sure each kid was fed and that no one was left out? All while holding her son to her? 

"Drea wouldn't hurt a hair on JJ's head and you know this. So let Dani's accusations and allegations go and face the cold, hard facts. Drea loves you, JJ, and Jackson. Hell, I would trust her to the ends of the Earth with Tom and Shep."

"That's true," Gen speaks up, visibly calmed down from her earlier outburst. She smiles a meek smile at Jensen. "When Jared needed me after his breakdown and my parents were too far away, the first person I thought of, that I was sure would guard and protect my babies was Drea. I knew she would step up and do whatever it took to take care of them while I flew halfway across the country to take care of Jared."

Jensen sits there and ruminates on the words from his two best friends. They’re right. Drea has never displayed any ill will toward JJ, Tom, or Shep. He runs a hand down his face. "You're right," he mumbles.

"Hell yeah, of course we’re right!" Jared exclaims, getting a chuckle from his wife and best friend. Jensen finally takes in the state of disarray his two confidants are in and realizes what he had interrupted. Gen's face is somewhat still flushed and she has her robe tied tightly around her lithe body, a sure sign that she doesn't want to accidentally give a sneak peek to anyone. Jared's tee is on inside out and his hair is messy and tangled.

It reminds him of his earlier discussion with Drea and the promises he had made. Thinking of the green nightie he had hinted to her about, he imagines her at home with it on. His dick embarrassingly twitches in his jeans and he jumps up.

"I have to go," he declares and rushes for the door.  As his hand lands on the knob, he turns to see the Padalecki's standing in the entranceway, arms slung around each other. "Sorry for interrupting. Go back to what you were doing," he winks and smiles. "I'm going home to do the same."

As he practically runs out of their house, he hears Gen's laughter that quickly turns into a moan. Jensen can't wait to get home to Drea and hear that same sound from her.

Ackles Home

I look at the clock beside the bed and sigh. It is after 10 pm and Jay isn’t back yet. I’m becoming worried and a little pissed that he hasn’t let me know where he is and that everything is okay. 

There’s no way that he is still at Dani’s hashing out whatever preposterous idea she has come up with. Since they have split Dani has given Jay a hard way to go when it comes to spending time with their daughter and I know Gen and I showing up earlier to ask for JJ to accompany us on our little family outing probably just gave her more fuel to add to the fire. 

I take a sip of wine and then grab the remote for the sound system that we had installed in our bedroom. A little light music shouldn’t wake the baby and will hopefully sit the mood when Jensen finally does return. I get up and turn the overhead light off, leaving just the illumination from the closet bulb glowing. It gives the room a sexy and sensuous vibe. 

As I lay my head back onto the pillow, I silently pray that Jay will be home soon and that everything is okay. The last thing I remember before closing my eyes is how much I love that man.

@lostinaseaoffictionalbliss​ @carryonmywaywardcaptain​  @darlingpeanut​ @sunskittlex​ @sis-tafics​ @sea040561​ @pretty-fortune​ @squirrelnotsam​  @death-unbecomes-you​ @sandlee44​  @internationalmusicteacher​ @kricketc28​@natura1phenomenon​ @mannls​  @nickie-amore​ @spn-tw-37​ @frozenhuntress67​ @blacktithe7​ @supernaturallymarvellous​ @thetardishasaquidditchpitch​ @sirod-30​  @heyitscam99​ @smoothdogsgirl​  @i-just-wanna-run-hell​ @paintballkid711​ @closetspngirl​ @starfirerules​ @vickiq9761​  @rainflowermoon​  @spnbaby-67​ @drakelover78​ @jessieray98​ @81mysteriouslyme​ @travelingriversideblues-x​ @akshi8278​ @keymology​ @topthis808​ @lilulo-12​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @i-love-superhero​ @tftumblin​ @markofdean79​ @thevelvetseries​

[killervibe]

Puzzles

A really really REALLY fluffy Cisco/Caitlin fic! <3 

~.~ 

There’s a fluttering in her stomach. It’s not morning sickness, and it can’t be her minuscule baby. It’s nerves, excited jittering, little butterflies flapping their wings inside of her. The back of Caitlin’s chair dips as she leans back against it, pensive.

 It has to be perfect. It needs to be. 

 She thinks about Cisco’s smile, imagining the way he’ll beam. How his eyes crinkle in the corners, and his face will light up like the sun. She smoothes the paper in front of her, a thousand scenarios running through her mind. 

 How will she tell him? That he’s going to be a dad. That he’ll have a tiny baby to hold in his arms in a few months time. A child who will be the perfect mix of him and herself. An infant she already knows their father will love until they both grow old and more. 

 She thinks about her own father, long gone now, in every way she ever knew him. But it’s the memory that lingers. The early years. She thought about hop scotch and bicycle rides. Birthdays and crossword puzzles. The science they learned. She thought about the games they played. 

 Tapping her pen against her desk, she brightened. The plan crystallized in her mind. That’s exactly how she’ll do it.

 ~.~ 

 The sun was beginning to set through the windows of the Speed Lab as Barry raced around the track for the gazillionth time. Caitlin stepped in with a folder tucked neatly under her elbow, her heels clicking down the friction resistant flooring installed in the room as she made her way to Cisco. He sat over the edge of the sideline area, his arms looped around the lower railing as he bit his lip with deep concentration. 

 Cisco never really bothered watching Barry run anymore unless there was some logistical component he was interested in analyzing. There wasn’t any rush or emergency this week which would warrant such a thing, which could only mean— Caitlin smiled, sidling up to him. “Another suit, really?” 

 Cisco was crunching some numbers on his tablet, rolling his eyes at her teasing. “There is never an excuse not to be current with the fashion trends. Thought you of all people would understand that.” 

 Caitlin scooted forward, climbing under the railing to sit with him. He stopped to help smooth out her dress skirt when it got rucked up. His hand glided over her covered thigh affectionately. Caitlin covered his hand there with her own so she could hold it, lacing their fingers together. Cisco adjusted easily, tracking Barry’s speed now by poking at the numbers on the screen with his other hand. 

 “I understand fashion,” she argued, “but this is his twelfth suit.” 

 He scoffed. “It’s not the twelfth! I only have eight models saved in my draft history.” 

 Caitlin huffed. He turned to cock an eyebrow at her. “Why? You want an update too?” 

 She thought about it. No, she was very happy with her Frost suit. And then, would Caitlin even need a new one any time soon? It may very well be that her crime fighting days were temporarily over. She was about to tell Cisco that when she remembered he wouldn’t get it. Not yet, anyway. This was why she had come to find him here in the first place. 

 “I’m good,” she promised him, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. “Can you open a breach? I’m heading home. How long will you be out here?”

 He opened a breach with the careless ease of a flicked finger off his touch screen. “Not long.” 

 Caitlin crossed her arms, unconvinced. He seemed much too absorbed in what they were doing for that to be true. He sensed her gaze and glanced at her sideways. “Not long,” he promised again. “I’ll have a beautiful girlfriend at home waiting for me.” 

 Their eyes locked as he gave her one of his lopsided, heart-wrenching grins. The one that made her weak at the knees. So stuffed full with his transparent love for her that Caitlin wasn’t exactly convinced it wouldn’t knock her up if she weren’t pregnant already. 

 Caitlin reflected his look right back at him, softening like butter. He trailed his eyes down her figure, now that she was stood up in front of him.

  He finally noticed the brown office folder in her grasp. “Hey, what’s that?”

She let him take it out of her hands, trying to school her face into a neutral expression. It was hard, she was already fighting off her excited grin. “Oh, this?” She watched him tilt his head at the graph paper and pen scribbles. 

 “It’s a coded equation. I’ve been trying to crack it for the last hour but I’m tired. I’ll try it again in the morning.” She tried to pull it back, but he held on, falling for her bait like a fish on a hook. 

 “I can do it,” he offered. She knew he would.

 “—Oh, Cisco, no, I wouldn’t ask you—” 

 “It’s not hard! I love these things. Where did it come from?”

Caitlin shrugged vaguely, neither confirming or denying his theories of where this came from. He already thought its a meta from another dimension. Caitlin turned to stifle a giggle into the palm of her hand. Barry was completely forgotten, as Cisco drew his knees up to place the papers against them like an easel, leaning forward to squint at her fake attempts to ‘crack’ the code. Cisco’s breach was still swirling patiently behind them. He realized she hadn’t left yet, and shooed his hand at her to go into the breach, promising to meet up with her for dinner.

 Caitlin gave him a kiss goodbye, then did as she was told, the blue swirling vortex closed behind her as she made it to their bedroom. After brushing her hair and changing out of her stockings to put on something more comfortable, she stood in front of her mirror. 

 Slowly, her left hand trailed down her neck, past the slope of her shoulders and curve of her breast to land gently on her flat stomach. She slid her hand under her cozy sweater, tapping her skin there, deep in thought. In the mirror, she didn’t look any different. But she felt so. 

 “Only Iris knows about you,” Caitlin found herself saying to her itty bitty child. “That’ll change soon.” She glanced at the clock. “Shouldn’t be long now.”

 Caitlin’s smile in her reflection was unlike any she’d ever seen in any pictures of herself before. 

It took a while after the initial shock in the Star Labs basement bathroom to really process that she was going to have a baby with Cisco. Caitlin was in denial for most of the day, locking herself in her Med Bay to keep from seeing Cisco. 

 She knew Cisco wanted kids. Caitlin wasn’t as sure. She thought there was a feeling she was supposed to get. This gut instinctual one where she wakes up one morning with a green neon sign in her brain blinking on and off that sings You’re Ready! Today You Want to Become A Mom! 

 Iris laughed when Caitlin described it, and now she understood she didn’t need to have woken up to that neon green mental signal to feel confident that this was a really good idea. 

 The sense of Good Idea-Ness  only intensified as the day grew longer, and Caitlin was fidgeting, trying to keep the news to herself as she planned the surprise. Now she couldn’t wait. 

 Just as she picked up her cell phone to order in dinner, a breach emerged out of nowhere. Cisco flailed out of it, calling her name as he waved the solved puzzle around the air. With crazed eyes and a frantic bumbling kind of awkwardness, he spun around in a full circle, shouting unintelligibly. He was so out of sorts it took him a few seconds to realize she was standing with a hand on her hip right in front of him. When he did, his eyes widened. He thrusted the solved periodic table of elements sequence at her, as if he wanted her to see for herself. 

“Is this true?! Caitlin, is this for real?” 

 She nodded, light in her eyes as he let out a giddy laugh, pulling her into his arms immediately.

 “For real? You’re pregnant?” 

 "Yes!" Caitlin giggled into the crook of his neck as he spun her around, then pulled herself from there to step back and memorize his reaction. 

 Tears were dripping down his cheeks. Caitlin’s finger swiped against his face gently, brushing the moisture away. She nodded once again. 

 He studied her with tenderness, leaning into her touch. “And you’re ready for this? You want to have a baby with me?”

 “I want everything with you, Cisco.”

 Cisco looked so dumbfounded, like he couldn’t believe his luck. He glanced down at her sweater, his hands jumping in the space between their bodies, hovering over her abdomen.  

 “Can I…?” 

 “There’s nothing to see,” she warned him, but lifted the sweater up anyways. His warm hands pressed lightly against her skin on her stomach. 

 “Wow,” he breathed in awe. “A baby Caitlin.” 

 Caitlin quirked an eyebrow. “Declaring genders already, are we?” 

 He grinned up at her sheepishly after crouching down to place a soft wet kiss over her bellybutton. “Baby Snow,” he corrected himself. He carefully tucked her sweater back in place, and rose to kiss Caitlin’s lips happily once, then twice. 

 “Baby Snow,” she repeated to herself. She wrinkled her nose. “Really?” 

 “What?” he murmured hot against her cheek.  

 Caitlin wrapped her arms around his waist, Cisco’s solved puzzle still in hand as they stood in the middle of the kitchen. “I was thinking baby Ramon.” 

 “Snow-Ramon?” he tried. 

 “Ramon-Snow sounds better,” she shot back. 

 Cisco pulled a face. “I don’t know about that.” 

 Caitlin laughed at their ridiculousness. “Let’s just call it our baby.” 

 Screw her medical degree; Cisco gazed into her eyes with an intensity she’s certain this time had the power to impregnate. She tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear lovingly. “We have time.” 

 “I can do that,” he said and kissed her again. 

[bulletproofxbangtan]

Picture Perfect | Vmin

1 | Spilled Coffee

Monday

Jimin awoke with a start. He scrambled out of his bed and in the haste of fumbling around for his phone, nearly fell onto the ground. Crap. It was 8:30 and he was due in the studio promptly at 9 to start shooting. He showered and got ready in record time, and remembered there would most likely be coffee and muffins at the set. Thankfully, the set was only a few minutes away from his apartment and, after driving like a madman, he arrived just in time. Jimin was greeted by a whirlwind of questions by none other than his manager, Jin.

“What happened to you? You look like you just crawled out a car crash.” His manager laughed. 

Jimin ran his fingers through his messy hair in an attempt to brush it. “I had a rough start to the morning,” he explained, his voice still gravely from sleep. 

Jin only laughed more. “Let’s get you to the stylists. You look like you could use their help,” he chuckled. 

“Coffee first!” the younger insisted and his manager agreed.

While they walked to the stand, Jin stopped in his tracks suddenly. “Hold on,” he said distractedly, “there’s someone I need to talk to.” 

“Okay-” Jimin turned his head to face his manager, but Jin was already gone. “Aish,” he muttered.

With a tired sigh, the model headed to the coffee stand. Pouring a cup for himself, he felt his eyelids drooping. As he prepared to head back to his dressing room, he noticed his eyes were shuttering when all of a sudden, he felt searing hot liquid spreading across his chest. He quickly glanced down and saw his steaming hot coffee drenching his shirt. Jimin yelped in pain, and angrily shot his head up to see who had the audacity-- when he saw who was standing in front of him, his heart stopped in his chest. 

Tae's POV

My heart stopped in my chest as I beheld the beautiful man standing before me. He had high cheekbones, full lips, and a jawline sharp enough to cut diamonds. He was drenched in his own coffee and I quickly tried to hide a giggle that bubbled up from my chest as I gazed upon his comically flustered face. He slowly looked up, and 3 different expressions flashed upon his face at once. Shock, then anger, and finally, bewilderment. His eyes widened for a fraction of a second and, as if nothing had happened, he regained his composure. His face slipped into a cool mask.“I don’t think we’ve met,” he held out his hand to shake as coffee slowly dripped down his shirt. His once-white shirt was now practically transparent and I forced myself to look at his face. That shirt was distracting me. 

I laughed. “I don’t think we have. My name is Kim Taehyung, but you can call me Tae.” I shook his outstretched hand. “And you are…?” His eyes locked mine in a heated embrace and my breath hitched. Butterflies erupted in my stomach and my stomach flipped as I struggled to keep his gaze. 

“I’m Park Jimin.” 

I stopped breathing. His name felt like music to my ears, like an answer to a question I had been asking-- Jimin. 

“Nice to meet you, Jimin.” My words came out breathier than I thought. Jimin noticed the change in my voice and smirked. My heart skidded.

Get it together, Kim.

 I was so screwed.

[nomnomsik]

To Catch a Dream - (9)

Summary: It’s difficult for Yoongi, who’s completely infatuated with you, to quietly remain your college friend. With a slow appearance of unusual tendencies in him, he realizes what he needs to do to attain his dream. However, jealousy and possession are universal in everyone. 

A/N: Jimin takes the wheel for this chapter. But don’t worry, Yoongi and him have a very important conversation. 

Word Count: 2.1K 

Trigger warning: bullying, implied violence, slight dysphoria, profanity. Please do not read if you are sensitive to these topics. 

“Hyung~”

A soft voice came out from the soft silk sheets of the king sized bed, a pillow falling onto the carpet flooring.

“Hmm?” Jimin answered, pulling the soft blanket over his bare and toned chest. The younger boy stared at his bicep, gulping before grabbing onto his side.

“You're leaving already?” The boy had an adorable pout on his face, the blankets not covering enough of his naked skin.

“Yeah. Sorry about that baby.” Jimin cooed gently, tucking the blankets over the younger boy's body as he himself hopped off the bed and buttoned up a dress shirt.

The younger boy watched in awe as he stared at Jimin’s back, his shirt somewhat transparent. The muscle was impressive and the boy could feel his excitement build up in his stomach as Jimin pulled up his tight leather pants and slipped into his jacket.

The boy turned around, fully submerging himself as one with the bed.

“Mmm, okay. Don't forget to text me later, hyung.”

The boy turned over onto his back, waving his hand up in the air as Jimin prepared to leave the room of his secret lover.

Jimin smiled.

“Okay, I'll remember. Love you.”

“Love you too, hyung~”

Jimin stepped out of the apartment building, entering the facility’s garage and starting up the engine to his motorbike. With a click of his helmet, he unmounted the vehicle and shifted the bike into neutral. Holding the clutch lever down, he listened to the sound of the engine as it fired up. A smile graced his lips as he was off onto the road, the wind hitting his body and blowing his jacket behind him.

Within minutes, he was back home, the lush green grass perfectly cut to the strand. With a harsh slam, Jimin burst through the front entrance of his home. His grandiose arrival echoed within the two million dollar property of his home, his feet trudging up the stairs. He didn’t even make it to his own room when his mother came up to him.

“Son!” His mother spat in irritation. “What do you think you're doing making such a fuss around here?”

At first, Jimin stared expressionless at her, his hands shoved in each pocket of his tight pants. With a pair of shades that decorated his face and his hair parted to the side, he emitted a dominating aura. Fed up, Jimin pushed past her and shut himself in his room.

He fell onto his single bed, the heavy layers of blankets cushioning the blow.

“Should I just skip?” He muttered, bringing the bright screen of his phone up to his face.

I can’t get her stupid face out of my head. I miss them. Why did we have to split up like this?

Jimin let out a frustrated groan, ruffling his blonde hair and throwing his phone onto his pillow. He brought the back of his arm to his face as he covered his eyes, his feet falling off the end of his bed. He took several minutes of contemplation before he slowly sat up straight.

“Screw it.”

Jimin grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder as he stormed out of his room. When he passed his mother, he caught her look of disappointment before she turned away. Slipping on his pair of Prada, he opened the front door and left.

The campus was empty as usual when he arrived. At this time, about everyone was in class. It didn’t help him and his dysphoria that it was filled to the brim with smart and rich students, hoping to succeed their parents, walk in the same steps, their future laid out for them like that. Jimin didn’t want anything like that. He wanted to be free, perfectly content on living off each paycheck if he had fun.

It pained his heart when he looked at the boy who admired and looked up to him, knowing that he would do anything to stay with him when he couldn’t. As long as he was tied to his family, he could never leave. He would end up hating his family, spiting them to the end as he destroyed himself from the inside. Rip his hair out, his voice, and his eyes when they were no longer able to produce the tears that would make things feel a bit better.

Completely trapped in a torrent of thoughts, he didn’t even notice his feet had guided him into the math building. He let out a sigh, but carried on, catching a few people huddling outside his math class.

Jimin and his bright outside personality could quickly capture the audience, understanding the situation. He pulled up to a younger male who stood near the classroom door, starting up a conversation.

“What’s going on here?” He gave a sweet smile to the kid, his shades still covering his eyes. The boy didn’t look at him at first, but when he did, his jaw almost fell. Jimin couldn’t help but smirk at the reaction, giving him a show and brushing his hand through his hair.

“O-oh, umm… I heard that there’s this group a-arguing. Apparently, someone sent it to one of the group chats and everyone knows now.”

Ah. Kids and their need to gossip about everything.

“Thanks.” Jimin gave him a fistbump before joining the crowd as he listened to the conversation within the class. Although it was his own calculus class, barging in at this moment was the wrong decision to make. Jimin had a grin planted on his face; the enjoyment of listening to other people bicker gave him a sense of superiority. The first task was to know who exactly is argu-

“How could you say that?!” A voice yelled, breaking through the silence. Jimin’s eyes widened in shock, the loud shout penetrating his ears. He tightly gripped his fingers as he bit his lip. There was no mistaking it. It was your voice. The pain it carried split open his heart as he heard the intensity of your whimpering and wavering.  

“We’re actually not wrong though.” A girl broke in with a slam on the table that echoed out of the class and into the hallway. “We’re all tired of your standards for this project. We’re not perfect, y/n!”

“It’s probably because she’s richy rich.” A murmur left the lips of a male with a scoff that joined afterward.

“Wha- What the heck are you actually talking about? Everyone’s family here makes almost six figures. You’re delusional thinking I have an advantage in something.”

“Y/n, just shut up really. If you’re that oblivious to the reputation and prestige of your family-” The girl sighed. “You’re so fucking privileged.” She seethed.

The classroom got quiet, the people standing outside, including Jimin nervous, anticipating the next words. Jimin felt his hand twitch, the need to open and burst through that damn door killing him. But, he couldn’t.

“I-I don't get handed everything.” You choked. Jimin could hear your voice on the verge of breaking before you broke down in tears.

“Just shut up!” The girl shouted, a crumpled sound of paper seeping out from the door. “Imagine thinking that when you’re dating the only child of the Min family! Unbelievable.”

Another voice joined in, more reserved and analytical. “Y/n, you do know that your family can just pick the whoever they want you to marry right? That’s just how powerful they are. It’s the aura that surrounds them. Nobody would be crazy enough to decline. They would have to be dumb.”

“W-what are you guys…”

“Your family picked the Min’s you idiot!” The girl cried out at your denseness. “Do you have any comprehension skills?! Imagine the most notable family in our fucking town marrying the family that’s right under them! And if you don’t call that privilege, you’re an idiot!”

The next thing Jimin knew, the door to the classroom slammed open, revealing your crying figure. Tears streamed down your face as you ran past the crowd that had surrounded the door. Jimin watched as you pushed through, your eyes and nose red. Everyone watched you stormed out, Jimin the only one following you behind.  

»—————————–✄

The older male stood in front of him, his face expressionless.

“You look like you’re about to kill me.” Jimin snickered, ushering Yoongi to take a seat in the library. “Where did my best friend Yoongi go?” Jimin stared deep into his eyes, the black mask covering over his friend’s mouth.

“Jimin what did you call me for?” Yoongi replied bluntly, his hands tightening around the straps of his bag.

“I was there when they made her cry,” Jimin replied, staring off into the distance.

With a slam of the table, Yoongi’s interest was piqued. “Who?!”

Suppressing a grin, Jimin took a look at his friend. “And if I told you…what would you do about it?”

Yoongi didn’t answer back, his mouth falling a bit open before he shut it completely. It was like Yoongi was caught red-handed with his plan. Yet, he never broke away from his eyes, throwing Jimin off at his unusual confidence. Jimin snickered at his reaction, playing with his fingers. 

Love makes you stupidly confidence.

Yoongi’s dark strands of hair covered parts of his eyes as he kept eye contact with Jimin. The chubbiness of his cheeks and the subtle flutter of his eyelashes caught his eyes. Yoongi seemed oblivious to just how attractive and feminine he looked. Jimin looked away first, a warmth spreading over his body.

“I’ll tell you their names. Don’t worry about it.” Jimin broke in, resting his head on his elbow.

“Why are you telling me this?” Yoongi questioned, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Because I know what you’re going to do… And I want you to do it.” Jimin continued, meeting Yoongi’s dark stare.

“And what am I going to do?”

“Revenge. Sweet revenge.” Jimin smiled. “We’re not so different from each other, don’t you think?” He questioned, brushing his hair back.

“What’s in it for you?”

“Aish, I feel like you’re interrogating me, Yoongi. What if I just want to help my best friend.” Jimin teased back, his leg bouncing up and down.

Yoongi didn’t push further, but his dark eyes broke away, preferring to stare at the quiet library. Jimin followed his gaze, starting to formulate more thoughts. It was true, you were a friend to him, but you were more important than that. Jimin chuckled, earning Yoongi’s attention back.

“She has something I want. If she’s unhappy like this, I’m won’t be getting it.” Jimin shrugged his shoulders as he talked. “And if you really think about it, she’s not so different from you.”

“She’s very different.” Yoongi retorted back.

“No, she’s really not.”

Jimin stood up from his seat, Yoongi following him up. As they both walked together through the library, they spoke in hushed whispers.

“She confuses me sometimes,” Yoongi confessed, scratching the back of his head. “She believed me when I told you that I had known you since you were my roommate.”

“Wait really?” Jimin gasped, his eyes widening. “That’s surprising. I thought her family would’ve told her about me.”

“They probably dislike you,” Yoongi explained, his voice almost inaudible with that mask on his face.

“Ouch… Well, they wouldn’t be the first.” Jimin snickered, a smile gracing his lips.

Yoongi’s eyes themselves seemed to smile at his self-deprecating joke which warmed Jimin’s heart. He let out a smile which caught Yoongi off guard. With a sigh, Jimin looked at him with some sort of melancholic sadness in his eyes that hurt himself as well. If eyes were truly the window to the soul, then Yoongi would conclude Jimin knew what was to come.

“Yoongi, you might be your own enemy. The thing you’re so afraid of happening is what’s inside you. I’d be careful.” Jimin’s voice faltered at the end which sent a chill down Yoongi’s body. His words were unexpected but meant little to him.

Yoongi looked at him, his gaze darkening before he turned away and walked out of the building. No more words were exchanged between them. It was a disconnect that seemed to have happened, yet Jimin did not understand why. He had constantly reassured Yoongi that he wouldn’t go for you. But, Yoongi still treated him like he would. Yoongi’s words were cold and flat, Jimin suddenly missing the condescending and crude remarks that spewed out of his friend’s mouth.

Jimin tilted his head back as he stared at Yoongi’s small frame. That mask. Placing his fingers on his lips, he searched his memory for the first time he had seen that mask. He clicked his tongue in annoyance as he walked into the psychology section of the library.

“The same goes for her, of course.”

Chapter 10

[aiupenn]

Friends or Less

Akutagawa’s been pushing Atsushi away, making him mad on purpose to keep his own feelings at bay. Unfortunately, Atsushi’s notices. 

[a/n: it’s finally @shinsoukoku-week!! I’m so excited. T.T a million thanks much for the mods of the week. i needed it like i need air. anyways, prompt i used today was ‘tickle a dragon’s tail’. I wasn’t as on top of this week as I was with rarepair week, so I hope you’ll forgive me that the fics for this week are gonna be a bit of a mess. I’m going to rewrite them all and put them on ao3 at some point, but for now, take a bit of word puke.]

Akutagawa had overstepped the boundaries this time. He could feel it. Anger came off Atsushi in waves, enough so that he could see his partner physically trembling. 

Akutagawa coughed into his palm, partially hiding the emotion in his throat. His stomach was a twisted knot of fear, guilt, and satisfaction. 

“What did you say?” Atsushi growled. It was a literal growl, a voice more like the tiger’s than Atsushi’s own. 

Akutagawa blinked slowly, lowering his hand. A part of him wanted to turn his back on Atsushi completely, but that wasn’t safe right now. “You heard me,” Akutagawa said, “The Agency would be better off without you.”

And then—to Akutagawa’s surprise—Atsushi deflates. All the anger visibly leaves him as his hands go limp and his head falls to stare at the pavement. All the satisfaction Akutagawa had felt evaporated. 

“Is that what you think, Ryuunosuke?” Atsushi’s voice is so raw and vulnerable, that Akutagawa’s lips part, lost for words. This hadn’t been the reaction he wanted. This wasn’t what he was looking for. Atsushi was stronger than this.

Wasn’t he?

Atsushi looks to the side. Akutagawa still sees the pained look in his eyes and the way his lower lip is caught between his teeth as he holds back tears. Atsushi holds the upper part of his arms tightly, almost hugging himself. “Can I tell you something?” Atsushi doesn’t pause long enough for Akutagawa to answer. “I think you’re right.”

Akutagawa freezes. Even he doesn’t think he’s right, what the Hell is Atsushi saying? He’d been trying to push Atsushi away, but not this far. 

Atsushi laughs a little hollowly, the sound of spit clogging in the back of his throat clear. Akutagawa watches almost in a trance as the tears spill down Atsushi’s face. Then, he turns away. “See you later, Ryuunosuke.”

For some reason, Akutagawa can’t get his feet to move in time to stop Atsushi. When he finally does get his body to listen, Atsushi’s been long gone. He’s not even on this block any more. Akutagawa stares off into the distance for a long time, willing Atsushi to reappear. 

After a moment, he curses. He’s not sure if he cursing himself, Atsushi, or the world in general. He pulls out his phone and hits the number of the man he had wished he’d never have to speak to again. 

Atsushi looks a mess when he opens the door. Akutagawa stares at him with the usual lifeless gaze, but it’s hard to keep his emotions invisible right now. There’s an unsteady rhythm to his heart right now. 

Atsushi sniffs and while he’d been in the middle of trying to wipe the tears out of his eyes, as soon as he sees Akutagawa, he stops caring. He grimaces. “Did you follow me?”

Akutagawa wonders which would be the worse answer. ‘I was so worried about you that I called Dazai’ or ‘I was so worried about you I stalked you’.  Neither sounded good. 

Atsushi seems to take his non-answer as one. “I suppose it’s best if you tell me what else you think of me now, rather than later.” Atsushi’s hand slips from the doorknob and he braces himself for some kind of impact. 

Akutagawa doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how to make this better. He isn’t sure if he should make it better. It would’ve been better to ask Dazai to send Kyouka or someone who could actually talk through these things. What exactly was Akutagawa doing here? Had he not given this a second’s thought?

Akutagawa realized he was panicking, and Atsushi was looking at him strangely. At least that meant that Atsushi had stopped crying. 

“The Agency needs you,” Akutagawa blurts out.

Atsushi blinks. “Like, right now, or...?”

Akutagawa sucks in a breath, not sure if he’s brave enough to continue. “No.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then Atsushi starts to cry again. His face screws up when he cries, his eyebrows knitting together and teeth clenching. Akutagawa hates to see it, he realizes. He doesn’t like seeing Atsushi cry. Just more proof to add to the line-up that he is deeper in love than he’s willing to admit. 

“You should go,” Atsushi says with staccato breaths.

He should. He really, really should. He needs to turn around and leave Atsushi alone, and then continue trying to push him away. Continue forcing his feelings down. Continue pissing Atsushi off. Pretend he’d never made him cry.

“I’m sorry,” Akutagawa said. 

The words were as much of a shock to Akutagawa as they were to Atsushi. He didn’t apologize. Ever. For any reason. But this time... this time he needed to. 

Akutagawa looks away as Atsushi looks up. He can’t handle the emotion in Atsushi’s eyes. “Why are you apologizing?” Atsushi asked earnestly.

God. He didn’t want to elaborate. Already he felt humiliated. “What more do you want me to say, Jinko?” he snarled, “I didn’t mean it. It’s not true.”

Atsushi rubs at his eyes with the back of his hand. Then, he reaches out and brushes his fingers down Akutagawa’s arm. Akutagawa shivers, going ridged. He would be haunted by that touch for days. He was always haunted by Atsushi’s touches. Atsushi doesn’t seem to notice the effect they have on Akutagawa’s very soul, which is just as well. 

“Come inside,” Atsushi says with a snuffle. He motions into his apartment.

Akutagawa’s eyes widened involuntarily. “And why would I do that?”

There was supposed to be hostility in his voice.

There wasn’t.

Atsushi swallows and he seems to think about his words for a moment. “I want to talk,” he says, a blush dusting his cheeks. 

For some reason, Akutagawa blushes, too. He clears his throat and walks inside, feeling exposed even though it’s Atsushi’s apartment he’s walking into and not his own. Once again, he should be leaving. But he isn’t.

Atsushi closes the door behind him, then steps in front of Akutagawa, leading him inside, into the kitchen. 

Akutagawa doesn’t look much. It feels too personal to, but Atsushi’s apartment is sparse. That doesn’t surprise him. Atsushi didn’t seem to want or need much.

Atsushi motioned to a chair at the table. “Do you want a drink?”

Akutagawa looked at him with a slightly suspicious slant to his eyebrows. Why, exactly, was Atsushi being so calm and accommodating when he’d clearly been sobbing his eyes out only ten minutes before. And because of him no less. “What do you want to talk about, Jinko?” 

Atsushi sighed, then sat across from Akutagawa. He bit his lip in a way that was almost cute, not that Akutagawa would ever tell him that. “You’ve never apologized before.”

“I went too far,” Akutagawa admitted.

“Yes, but...” Atsushi seemed to puzzle over this for a moment, “Well, isn’t it the point to hurt my feelings?”

Akutagawa huffed. “No.” The point was to make him angry. Make him hateful.  Surely if Akutagawa got Atsushi to hate him enough, then he would no longer love Atsushi. It had to be that simple. 

“I don’t understand you,” Atsushi said. He leaned over the table and picked at a bit of lacquer on it. “If you didn’t want to hurt my feelings, then why do you say that sort of thing?”

“I don’t have to answer that.”

“You make it sound like I’m interrogating you,” Atsushi says, looking up for a second to look Akutagawa in the eyes, “I’m asking you as a friend, Ryuunosuke.”

There was no possible way that Atsushi could know how hard that statement hit Akutagawa. It took all of his energy not to react and still his breath stopped. He didn’t move, staring at a nondescript spot in the cupboards while he slowly recovered. A ‘friend’. He was Atsushi’s ‘friend’? How could that be? He’d been trying so hard to shove him away.

“We’re not friends,” Akutagawa said.

Atsushi studied Akutagawa carefully, then understanding dawned on his face. “You want to keep me away.”

Akutagawa scowled. He didn’t like to think he was that transparent. 

Atsushi let out a scoff. Akutagawa wasn’t sure if it was a sound of disbelief or amazement. “You’re not gonna chase me off,” Atsushi said.

“Why not?” Akutagawa snapped.

“Because now it’s a challenge,” Atsushi said. 

Atsushi met Akutagawa’s glare. A feel of a spark raced between them, a spark that made Akutagawa recoil and look away. He stood, fast enough his chair made a loud sound at being shoved back. “Do whatever you want. But we’re not friends.”

Atsushi didn’t move, waving his hand dismissively. “See you tomorrow, buddy.”

It was only because Akutagawa was already on the genkan that he hadn’t punched Atsushi. Or worse, kissed him. 

[authorscarlettstclair]

Anora & The Dead Girl

I lean forward in my seat and stare at my reflection in the car mirror, assessing my work. I took my time putting makeup on this morning, choosing a brown shadow that makes my eyes look more yellow than green, and black liner. My dark hair cascades over my shoulders. By the end of the day, it will be mostly straight, too heavy to sustain the curls it took an hour to fix. I practice a smile, checking to see if any lipstick transferred to my teeth, but also testing to see if I can manage to make it look real. This is my chance at a new beginning, and as long as I'm careful, the past won't bleed into the future.

I glance at Mom. Even now she keeps her gaze forward, hands tight on the steering wheel, navigating the rented Ford Focus around another bend in this hopeless road. Mom doesn't want the past to follow me, but I can't help feeling guilty. I'm the reason she has to start over, too.

You'll make so many friends, a voice rumbles in my head. If he were still here, it's the kind of encouragement my poppa would give. I smile at the thought and straighten in my seat, clasping the round coin at my neck—my poppa's coin. It will be easier to let go of the past if I make friends.

Another bend and Mom turns down a white concrete drive, flanked by a set of red brick pillars. A black plate with gold letters identifies this as Nacoma Knight Academy—my new school.

Sweat beads on my forehead, as if the sun has moved inches from my face, and I know something's not right.

Oh, no.

My stomach feels like it's full of wasps as I focus on the building ahead of me. Balconies outside the third and fourth floors are enclosed with black bars, making each one resemble a cage. A girl hangs by her neck at the center of the building, four stories up. I follow the rope with my eyes, finding it tied to one of several stone spindles jutting from the top of the roof.

My fingers dig into the leather seat, and there's a familiar prick in my palm as hysteria crawls up my windpipe, into the back of my throat. I swallow the scream, glancing at Mom, realizing the momentum of the car hasn't slowed.

She can't see the dead girl.

Of course she can't. My mouth tastes bitter at the thought—that's why we're in this mess. Mom can't see the dead, and from the one conversation we've had about it, she also believes anyone who claims to see the dead is a liar.

A bead of sweat trickles down my face, tickling my neck and I release my breath. I can do this, I remind myself. The dead are everywhere, and I took precautions as I was getting ready this morning. My perfume has a hint of rosemary, the evil eye dangles off a zipper on my backpack, and there's a bag of turmeric powder in my blazer pocket. Small things, but they should keep the souls at a distance. Soul, not ghost—I don't like that word. It implies transparency. The dead I deal with look as human as the day they died: solid, fleshy, and like the nearly decapitated girl hanging by her neck over the doors, they wear their deaths.

This is just a reminder of the rules I set for myself—and the reason I need them.

Rule number one: ignore the dead.

But as we approach, I can't take my eyes off her. How hard must she have fallen? She'd been a student at Nacoma Knight Academy. Her uniform is similar to mine, except instead of a blazer, she wears a knitted sweater—longer, with two pockets on the front—and a skirt that falls mid-calf. While I don't think she's one to cause me trouble, she's been here a while and her presence is a vortex, sucking my energy. It makes me jittery, like I've had too much caffeine.

Mom brings the car to a jerky halt. I stick my hands out to stop myself from colliding with the dashboard, only to realize the bell has rung. Students dressed like me and the dead girl race to buildings across campus. Several move in and out of the doors beneath her feet.

Suddenly I regret my choice of accessory—a pair of purple and blue nebula tights. Personally, my favorite pair of the hundreds I own, yet nothing screams geek like space tights. I could have waited a few months to introduce these to the student body.

I don't move to exit the car. Once I'm outside, I have to worry about screwing up again. I'm the new girl, and people will want to look at me, talk to me. I'll have to make sure they're actually alive. Sure, I want friends, but I also want to become transparent, blend in so well with the crowd I'm hardly noticed. I want to be normal. If I can't manage that, I'm not sure what is next for me: another school?

Probably not. Mom is done moving.

"Any more signs that you're seeing things," she threatened on the drive to Oklahoma, "And I'll commit you."

She's already been researching psychiatric facilities in our new state—I found them saved as bookmarks in her phone. Bringing up seeing the dead was the biggest mistake I'd ever made, but I was warned and I didn't listen.

Mom must have noticed how pale I looked after her threat because she had reached over, patted my leg and said softly, "They helped your poppa."

If that were true, he wouldn't be dead, I think, rubbing the face of my poppa's coin.

"Anora, stop grinding your teeth!" I jerk, startled by Mom's sudden command. It's the first time she's met my gaze since we got in the car this morning—the first thing she said other than put on your seatbelt.

I let go of the coin, its heavy weight settles against my chest, and I relax my jaw, unaware I've been clenching it. Mom sighs, which seems to soften the flicker in her eyes. She reaches to brush a few strands of hair out of my face.

"Honey, I know this all happened so fast, but this...this will be good for you...for both of us."

She smiles so I smile back, only to make her feel better. It is damage control, something I put myself in charge of since our transplant to this windy state is my fault.

It is always my fault.

"Would you like me to walk you to the door?"

Mom isn't smiling now and she taps the steering wheel with her fingers. I'm probably making her late for her interview.

I lift my backpack from the floor, stifling my impulse to take another deep breath. I need to say something reassuring. Something like, That's alright, Mom. I'll be fine. Don't worry. I love you.

Instead, I say, "No, Mom. That's all I need on my first day."

"Fine." She answers in that clipped, short-tempered tone she's been using with me for the last two months. "I'll pick you up after three."

I get out of the car, close the door and she drives off.

Then it's just me, the school, and the dead girl.

Well, crap.

A sign to the left of the sidewalk identifies this building as Emerson Hall. I turn in a circle. Now that I'm outside the car, I feel like I've been transported to another dimension. All traces of the outside world—the street we drove up and the black fence and gate—are lost amid acres of land and trees. Even the wind is different here—quieter, like it is trapped under a glass dome, exiling street noise.

I drag my gaze back to the dead girl hanging at the center of the building like some sacrificial god. Even now, this spirit is draining my energy, making me dizzy, and the longer she hangs there, the worse it'll get. If I want to get through this day—and every one after that—I'm going to have to ignore her.

Easier said than done.

I give Poppa's coin one last squeeze, slip it under my shirt, and march into Emerson Hall, avoiding the girl swinging over my head. Right now, I have to find my new normal, and part of that is pretending I am normal.

Inside, several students stand in line at a counter waiting to speak to one of three women behind a glass panel. I hang back at the entrance for a moment, surveying my surroundings, mostly waiting to see if there's an energy suck—an indication that there are dead nearby. When I'm sure everyone in the lobby is alive, I choose a line and wait. A couple of students turn to stare, but I avert my eyes, looking at anything else—the plastic plant in the corner, wooden chairs pushed against a dirty white wall, black and white photos of buildings and long-dead or nearly-dead people.

A television behind the glass runs breaking news, the screen is splashed with photos of a deadly plane crash, deliberately taken down by its co-pilot. Officials make guesses as to the motive and the only thing I can think is that there are now one hundred and fifty more people bound here on Earth, murdered. My stomach clenches tight. Mom doesn't like when I watch the news. She thinks I take it all too personally.

What she really means is she thinks I become obsessed, and I guess she's kind of right. There are certain stories I invest in, and I'll follow every piece of news released on the subject.

This one is no different.

I watch the news until it's past time for my first class, and no one else is left in the lobby but me.

A woman with blond hair and a pink blazer smiles at me.

"Can I help you?" Her voice sounds robotic, filtered through the round metal intercom.

"I'm new. I don't have my schedule—"

"Oh! You must be Anora Silby!" She retrieves a folder from her desk and hands it to me via a small opening at the bottom of the glass barrier. "Inside you will find your schedule and your student handbook."

I open the folder and stare at the materials. My schedule sits on top. I have already zoned in on my first hour: trigonometry...a.k.a. Hell.

"Be sure you are aware of curfew."

"Oh, I don't live on campus."

"Curfew is countywide," she advises. "No one's to be outside after midnight."

"Why?"

It takes the lady a moment to realize I've asked her a question. She blinks.

"It's always been like that. Since the twenties. You know, after the murders."

"No, actually...I don't know," I wave my folder around to remind her I'm the new girl.

"It's nothing to be worried about," the lady assures me. "There haven't been any murders since then. The curfew's just in place as...a precaution. It's best if it's obeyed."

She says it like a warning, like she thinks I'm one to break the rules. I can understand curfew for campus, but why is it countywide?

"Would you like a guide to help you find your classes?" Her voice brightens, her smile intensifies. It looks fake, and I get the sense I'm not welcome anymore.

"Uh, sure."

It'll be nice to have a map of this place in case I get lost trying to avoid the dead. The lady disappears from view and I take a closer look at the pictures on the wall. I'm partly hopeful I'll see a picture of the girl outside in one of the photos, but I don't find her. The images are mostly of buildings on campus in their prime. Gold plates beneath the frames indicate the year they were built. My favorite is Rosewater—that sounds calming.

I run my fingers over the cold metal, tracing the name.

"You must be Anora Silby." The voice is energetic and warm, but it startles me. I tear my hand away from the plate as if I've been caught stealing and yelp, twisting to find a boy standing beside me. He has striking blue eyes and sharp features. My gaze drops to his lips, which are initially pulled into a smile until I face him, then it falters.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

I study him for a moment—lively eyes, faint color in his cheeks, and...warmth. He's definitely alive. I guess I stare too long because he clears his throat and says, "Can I help you find your classes?"

"Oh...um...the lady was getting me a map."

A smile stretches across his face again, brightening his expression. "I'm your map." He extends his hand to me, keeping the other in his pocket. "Shy."

I stare at his hand, confused—did he just call me shy?

"Excuse me?"

He chuckles under his breath. "It's my name—Shy Savior."

"Oh." My cheeks flame and I want to hide. I fumble as I cradle my folder in my arm and reach for his hand. "Anora Silby...er...I guess you knew that."

"Yeah," he breathes, and then quickly adds, "But that's okay. You have a nice name."

He doesn't move his gaze from mine as he shakes my hand firmly, and it is a little unnerving, especially since the pigment of his eyes is so concentrated—seriously, he has to be wearing contacts.

"Um, are you going to let go of my hand?"

"Sorry." He drops my hand and snakes his behind his neck. "It's just...have we met?"

I laugh. "No. I think I would remember you, Blue Eyes."

Shy smiles and turns the faintest shade of pink. "You just feel so familiar."

"I hope I'm familiar in a good way."

God. I'd have to say that, wouldn't I?

I'm breaking my second rule: Absolutely no boys.

"Yes." He narrows those gorgeous eyes and my resolve weakens. "Yes, only in a good way."

I inhale and hug myself, feeling self-conscious.

"Mr. Savior, I think it's about time Miss Silby made it to class," the lady in the pink blazer advises from the counter.

Shy turns and smiles at her. "Yes. Sorry, Mrs. Cole." He looks at me, clearing his throat. "So, what's your first class?"

I'm glad the distraction gives me a reason to look away from him because my cheeks are on fire. I open my folder to look at my schedule. I'd seen it a few minutes ago but now, I can't remember anything.

"Um, Mr. Val, trig ... in Walcourt?"

Shy laughs.

"What?" I lean away to get a good look at his face, but he just shakes his head, eyes focused on my schedule.

"Nothing—what's your locker number?"

Forty-four.

Shy directs me out of the lobby, down a hallway flanked with a large trophy case and a couple bulletin boards covered with flyers for homecoming.

"The lockers, dorms, and cafeteria are all located here in Emerson," he explains. "It's a little inconvenient, but you just have to make sure you have everything you need for your first four classes before lunch," he pauses and nods to my locker, then the one next to it. "That one's mine."

I smile at him and it feels like I'm falling into a trap. "I guess I'll see more of you, then?"

"Yeah." He grins, showing his teeth, and runs a hand through his blond hair. I like the way his eyes crinkle at the sides when he smiles, all things I shouldn't notice about him, considering my rules. "Yeah, you will."

The sunlight blinds me as we exit Emerson and I blink several times to adjust my vision before turning to watch the girl overhead. She sways ever-so-slightly, propelled by nothing but the memory of the day of her death. Shy has stopped, too, and watches me, following my gaze to the bars.

"It was to keep people—"

"From jumping," I finish quickly. "I know."

He doesn't smile back, and he studies me. The intensity of his eyes makes me feel like he can see every layer of me.

"Why don't they take them down?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Aesthetics, history, a precaution. The windows in the dorms don't open, either."

"History?"

"This place used to be an asylum before it was a school. Back in the twenties."

Oh, that isn't good.

I look back up at the bars and then around. So far so good, I haven't encountered any other dead, but that doesn't mean they aren't here.

"Do you live on campus?"

He shakes his head. "No, thank God."

"That bad, huh?"

He sort of laughs but it sounds more like a snicker. "I already spend more time here than I like."

As we cross campus, I conduct another sweep of the grounds and notice a thin layer of decay has settled upon the landscape in the form of weathered brick, buckled sidewalks, and rusted pipe rails. These are flaws in its beauty—cracks the past has slipped through. The dead are a part of that past, and I want to fix it. The urge tugs at my heart, twines with my veins and bursts from my palm. The sharpness is startling, and I squeeze my fingers into a fist, knowing no good can come of it, no matter my intentions.

Worse, I'll leave my mark on everything.

It's like fixing a china doll after her face has shattered—you might find a rosy cheek and an eye, but nothing prepares you for the chips in the already-broken pieces or the glue that never stops oozing from those cracks.

"Are you a senior this year?" Shy asks. His voice startles me, and though the question grounds me, I want to tell him he doesn't have to keep up conversation just to be polite. Still, I answer.

"No, a junior."

"Good. At least you don't have to start your last year of school in a new place. Where are you from?"

"Chicago."

"Why did you move here?"

The question makes my stomach churn.

"Things...got complicated." A weak response, but an answer. I'm relieved when Shy nods and doesn't ask me to elaborate. "What about you?" I ask quickly. "Have you always lived here?"

"My whole life."

Surprising. Somehow, I can't see this being the only place he's ever lived. His smile seems sad, too, and I wonder if he feels trapped like I feel trapped.

We approach Walcourt, which is shaped like a rectangle with large square columns running the length of a cement overhang, and ugly white pipe rails zigzag to the doors. Inside, the place smells like must and mold. The white floor looks yellow under fluorescent lights.

We walk midway down the hall and Shy's eyes capture mine before he nods to a door on my right.

"That's Mr. Val's class. Just to warn you...he's a bit of a prick."

So that's why he laughed earlier. Great. Shy steps back and then twists toward the door. He knocks and doesn't wait for a response. I hear a deep, stern voice.

"Mr. Savior. What can I do for you?"

"I apologize, Mr. Val. I'm showing a new student around campus."

Shy opens the door a little more and now Mr. Val is visible. He has a thick, brown mustache, brown hair, and wears a brown suit. He stands behind his desk, a piece of chalk in his hand, mid-lesson. I meet his gaze last and find him staring at me, eyes as black as a night without stars. I can already feel his disappointment in me, like he's set the Earth on my shoulders and watched it roll off into space.

The only thing that makes me feel any better is that he looks at Shy the same way.

"This is Anora Silby."

"Ah." He places his chalk in the metal holder, dusts off his hands, and reaches for a clipboard on his desk. "Yes, Miss Silby. Come in."

Shy takes up half the doorway, but I brush past him. Heat rushes to my face, and I can't figure out if it is from being on display in front of twenty students or from the slightest bit of physical contact with Shy.

"You're excused, Mr. Savior. I'm sure if Miss Silby needs your services, she will find you."

The class snickers. I glance at Shy as he mouths the word "prick" before closing the door. I nod—a grin growing on my face.

"Miss Silby." My smile quickly fades, and I snap my head toward Mr. Val who clears his throat. The students behind me laugh again. "It's a good thing Mr. Savior isn't in this class. It already seems he is proving too much of a distraction."

Mr. Val hands me something that looks more like a work manual than a syllabus, and a massive trigonometry book, then directs me to one of the only seats left in the classroom—front and center. As I take it, I notice a girl with long dark hair staring daggers at me. Our eyes meet, but her expression doesn't change. The only reason I'm okay with it is because she's actually alive. I can deal with living bitches—but not dead bitches. There's a difference.

I pull out my notebook and try to catch up on what I missed in Mr. Val's instruction, and look through the syllabus. As if I need any more confirmation that my time at Nacoma Knight will be trying, I find that we have quizzes every day.

Sighing, I glance up to find the dead girl from Emerson Hall outside the window peering in. Her head dangles to the side, partially decapitated. Blood covers the collar of her sweater, drips from her nose and the corners of her eyes. My whole body suddenly feels prickly, like I've been wrapped in a blanket of spiders, their tiny legs skittering across my skin.

As if she senses my gaze, her sideways eyes snap to mine and her colorless lips pull away from her teeth in a crooked, black-blood smile, and I know that she's come to search for me.

I look away and focus on my desk, but the dead girl's gaze heats my skin like the sun.

Please let her lose interest in me.

If she doesn't, I have a one-way ticket to the psych ward.

[fucktard666666]

He was 19 in twenty-19. His favorite crystal is Crystal Methyd, and our first binding words together were: Nothing Fucking Matters!

He complains about how his hair is growing too slow, everyday. “I can’t wait til my hair grows!” He exclaims whether it’s night or day, rain or shine, you will absolutely hear him say. I personally liked the cholo cut-so sexy! “The cholo jumped out!” And this girl said “and it scared me!” That pesky little tissue flap that he constantly burns, located on his palm, but continuously move traverse even more so that the medication can never seem to reverse. It has been frozen, and burnt, and picked on and bleached, and churned by his finger nails... baby put your hand down and stop messing with that tumor! I have never met anyone who has outmatched my dark humor. Take a break from peeling of those dead skins. Caress me around my thighs, my legs, not near my asshole though, I don’t want your bacteria to lay eggs-

In the morning, two is what you prefer. You like them in pairs-perverted as this sounds but it is true-

It is true that the things you want the most are the ones you’ll have the hardest time getting- or non at all. God forbid I wanted hair and facial hair- god did not grant me either one, almost non at all. I envy his hair growths that he likes to compare to middle easterners. It makes me smile all the time, because the bridge of his nose, says “you’re a beaner-ers!”

He’s clogged my sink multiple times, because of his constant shaving. I don’t mind it though... it’s pretty annoying, but it’s a task worth having. I usually clean it by myself when he’s not around. I don’t know, just little remnants of him made me feel like he’s around, his energy lingers upside down and everywhere, even though I’m cleaning up his mess, I can’t help but smile, I can’t help but stare-

Stare at him when he’s asleep. Brushing his curly locks, tuck them behind his ears. Whispering I love you’s when I thought he’s already R-E-M’n, but when he responds “I love you, too baby” I just be D-A-M’n inside, thinking to myself, how lucky did I get?

Lucky that even after all my fuck-ups, screw-ups, mistakes, the universe still bestowed a gift upon me. A gift that was most likely not well deserved. Was it dropped off at the wrong doorstep? I ask myself. I ponder, and wonder, and gander back at him as he does the bare minimum at his job. “You’re just flipping papers, babe.” I whisper to myself. I chuckle a little and let out a yell: do you want breakfast? I asked. He lets out a grin, a half-smile, obviously responding: yes! He has a certain tone when he’s saying “thank you” when I hand him his food. God, a nervous wreck I am whenever I cook for him. I’m no alumni from Le Cordon Bleu, but I can cook a mean... a mean... I don’t know. I can’t cook for shit, but for him I try to make do.

Half-naked in an all ivory dining set. Countless memories in that empty corner, but unforgettable nonetheless. He likes to circle names that he found interesting in his pile of SNHD papers. Hey, did you know names are just the sounds people associate to you? We both are suckers for names. We have enough collected for generations even long after the history that became.

Oh, there’s this one spot located in the middle of nowhere. Red Rock Canyons: Oasis of Stars, home of lone wolves and cayotes, hidden in the far southwest. Famous for being the road on the way to Pahrump where brothels thrive, old men jive, STD hives. I tried to go to this spot one day to remi-nice, but I could not find it at all! One more turn and I might end up in Bermuda Triang-All. He must really be the compass to this place, I stopped on the side street, I said ooh bitch, that was a struggle! This one morning, I’ll fail to ever erase from my memories. It was so, so perfect that I forgot about my open wound pounding from my head. Need I say more or will I cut an old wound, call 911? Will they respond?

Water and Oil is what we’ve become. Despite the beautiful sceneries, steamy showers, and late night epiphanies, we have become repellent- our love language, no longer transparent. We do not seem to combine, scientifically, chemical bonds to be exact. Since when did oil become non-hydrophiliac? . What went wrong? Blood and flesh, sweat and tears, have all been involved. To this day, I demand: tell me where did I go wrong?

Two good people, two beautiful souls, two visions of art, but somehow it ended in turmoil? We tried to repair all the wear-and-tears, but we did not age like fine leather. Sweet and sour, hot and cold. We have not experienced such a fine and dandy weather from the month of January until the hot summer nights of May-weathers. We did not have an umbrella to shield us from the rainfalls. How the hell are we gonna weather the storm when winter befalls? Summer has always been our season. Hot, and steamy, “hey you sucked the puss out of my nipple piercing, but I was too horny to stop you” was his reason.

A very promising relationship that ended bitterly. God, you can’t even keep us in the same room let alone pass each other merrily. What have we become? Is this when we declare each other as our enemies? Is this when we burn our sweet, sweet memories? Is this how we treat each other even though we used to be each other’s ecstasies? This is not a vision I’ve foreseen. This is not the happy ending that we wanted like from those in the silver screens.

Tropicalia, somewhere in Los Ange-Leez, far from the ocean port-landia, located at the foot of the metropo-Leez. We shut the place down, in those fly outfits, the people, the photographers, the cameras. We too fire. We too cool, we brought the half white half black, The Grandfather-esque suit, pimped out boots, fur coats in a light shade of oat, pops of old school red, 10-10-10s!!! Fiya in the streets freaky in the sheets. Thrifted goods from head to toe. Just DSLs, no need to flaunt them YSLs and Logo-

Mania-c panics, insecure Ass fights, sleepless nights, Tel-Aviv dreams, Perfecta on the radio. Sade on the stereo. Stars Are Blind has become an anthem, but Nelly Furtado strengthens our tandem. My Cherie Amour, cara mia, Amor de mi vida- it’s Friday, babe! Can we just have one good día?

Giant Pikachu, that I won for you. Every person envied the dude, who’s carrying a giant, yellow plush! Envy him! It’s his birthday! His embarrassment is accompanied with a blush! I heard a kid saying “I choose you!” No kid, he is mine! Get your own baby, this one is divine- femi-NINE as you claim to be

This is reality and truth be told, we made fools of ourselves. What’s done is done, unbecoming, yes, but we did what we thought was right at the moment. I’m out of tears to shed, but boy if I must see you cry one more time, don’t do it, on my knees I beg. I hate when I see the tears start to glisten your eyes. I’ve killed myself a thousand times for making you cry. Don’t do it, but here are just simple words to live by: forgive me. Forget about me. Now baby, will you

Try?

Seven- thirteen- nineteen; another day anotha dolla for San Valentin. He wielded his bow and arrow, struck a 20-something and a late teen. Inside a fortune cookie, holds a question

“Do you wanna be my boo thang” I giggled and answered. Yes- I think we just became each other’s regular dicks and regular bang- his everyday play ting. I blinked once, turned to my side, and my phone suddenly rang- it’s reality calling! Should I ignore it and continue to hang? Little did I know, it’s the phone call we both need: parallel worlds, perpendicular visions, and 90° angles-When you flip the right triangle it looks like it’s bent down to it’s knees- the position where I found myself as I’m begging you please

Please stay with me,

Would you forgive me now, baby, please?

Please be my baby,

Stay for the night please?

Our continuous fights with no referees

Even after some make-up sex, it leaves no guarantees.

Too bad we didn’t even make it to a full trip around the sun. I’ve made a playlist to every single one-

Every single one of the months that you’ve left me longing for your kisses and your hugs and your I love yous that I misses, and your scent, and the views when I have you bent, and everything about you and everyday my sadness increases as I hear songs about you.

I decided that I’m ready to receive what I’ve been missing by getting it myself from other bitches. Their names are Molly, Mary Jane, and some white girl who embezzled half of my riches.

LSD dreams, psychedelic visions, heavily induced in nicotine.

Adderall brain, fried in alcohol and ampheta-main

I chased highs that began from

Seven-thirteen-nineteen

Little did I know there’s happiness beyond the drugs,

Beyond your love,

In this universe so infinite

Found within myself, I’ve had to ignite

Ignite the fire that sparked the journey

Journey of loving myself beyond, of what used to be a vision too murky

Murky skylines of my future, now I can see so clear, so white, so pearly.

Pearly whites from the crevices of my mouth started to resurface once again

Ready to explore undiscovered depths of my being once again

Rebuilding what was lost from my abrupt healing once again

Before you came, before you saw, before you conquered, shit, never again.

The deepest corners of my soul that are left unseen

Thanks to you for sharing with me, seven-thirteen-nineteen

And for forever redefining the meaning of color

Green.

[imgilmoregirl]

AO3 Link

Chapter Five

The weekend was torturous to both Gold and Lacey. They spent their time walking around the house without talking too much, doing their respective works and staying as far from the other as they could, because both knew if they got alone for much time, they were probably going to repeat everything that had happened in the library and led them to that awkward situation and they didn’t need to make things even weirder. Both were concerned about Baden and were unable to relax, until the moment Milah dropped him on the Sunday night.

Lacey was hidden in her bedroom when the little boy arrived, but she peeked a look outside the window, watching until Milah’s car disappeared on the road to sigh in relive and fall back on her bed, curling herself under the covers as she texted Ruby, telling her how much she hated Gold’s ex-fiancée. She slept fairly better than she had done in the night prior and woke up early, to the sound of her alarm clock buzzing in the nightstand.

After getting dressed, she went downstairs, where Bae was already having breakfast, while Gold walked around the kitchen with his cell phone glued to his ear, a grimace on his face.

“Hey, buddy,” she greeted Baden. “Is everything alright with your father?”

“Yeah,” the little boy answered using his spoon to mix the cereal in his bowl. “It’s work.”

“Mm,” Lacey mumbled, serving herself with food that hopefully didn’t bother her baby and wasn’t going to be wasted later, leaving her starving, but unable to eat again.

Gold closed his old phone’s lid, finishing the call, running a hand through his greying hair as he glanced back at the breakfast table, an idea that could save his day popping up on his head. He walked towards Lacey, placing a hand on her shoulder and making her girl look up at him with a mistrustful look in her gorgeous blue eyes.

“Can I ask you a favour, sweetheart?”

“It depends on what is it.”

“Ashley called from my office, we have an unforeseen situation and I need to go there earlier. Can you take Bae to the school for me, please?”

Nibbling at her lip, Lacey glanced between Gold and Bae. The school wasn’t far from the house and it was on the way to the library, so she was going to have to pass through there anyway, but as she hadn’t spoken much with the boy since his mother brought him back, she imagined if Milah had said something that was able to chance the way they had been interacting on the last few days, which got her a little worried, but she nodded in confirmation, because she wasn’t going to deny something to Gold when he was asking her with those puppy brown eyes.

“Sure,” Lacey agreed, “Bae and I will have a good walk, right buddy?”

“Right!” Bae smiled.

“Thank you!” Gold said sincerely, grabbing his suit jacket and pulling it on. “I see you when the library closes, and Bae, be good to Lacey.”

“Yes, papa,” the little boy muttered, receiving a quick kiss on the top of his head from his father, who smiled at the girl and rushed to his car.

And there she was, Lacey thought, getting the responsibility, she didn’t want to have and taking care of the son of the man she met in a bar. That’s how you lose control of your own life. She sighed, but ate in silence, sending Bae to brush his teeth after they took their way to the school, the copy of the house keys Gold had given her on the Saturday night, seeming to be a high weight she was very conscious of, on the pocked of her cardigan.

Baden walked happily, with his hand tucked in hers and a giant smile on his face, as if it was the first time he was going to school, what made her ask herself why he seemed so joyful, until the moment he didn’t. A frown took place on his face as he glanced at her.

“Lacey my mama said I shouldn’t like you,” he confessed. “But I told her I already do and you are going to give a baby to papa.”

She knew that moment would come. Milah hated her too much to keep her mouth shut, even more if her son said such thing to her.

“Bae…” the brunette tried to start, but for a moment she didn’t find the right words, and ended up muttering: “you shouldn’t have told her that I’m pregnant.”

“I’m happy you’ll have a baby,” Baden continued, “I just thought she would be too, but all she did was say some bad things about you.”

“Your mother doesn’t like me,” Lacey shrugged.

A part of her wanted to know what Milah had told the boy, but a bigger part insisted it was better if she remained without the acknowledge of what scandalous things that woman had told her own son about her. She just hoped for the sake of poor Baden’s mind, she hadn’t used the same words she did after leaving in the morning she picked him for the weekend.

“She doesn’t like anyone, not even my papa,” he shrunk. “Sometimes I don’t even know if she likes me.”

At those words, Lacey stopped walking, kneeling to look into his brown eyes, a perfect copy of his father’s. She couldn’t believe she had heard this from a four-year-old’s mouth. How could a little boy not be sure if he was loved by his own mother? But looking down at her still flat belly, she suddenly knew why and her eyes got filled with tears.

“Of course, she likes you, Bae,” Lacey assured him. “Why wouldn’t she? You’re an incredibly smart boy.”

Baden’s glance fell to the floor. “She never even walked me to school.”

“Never?” The brunette blinked.

“She always said she was too busy for that.”

What a bitch, her mind popped. Lacey had to fight her urge to pull Baden into a tight embrace, although she had affectionally touched his face, brushing away some tears he had let scape, silently.

“Well, I know I’m not your mother, but I’m walking you to school right now and you don’t want to be late, right? So, let’s go and maybe and can buy you some candies when I go to the library and give them to you when I arrive home tonight.”

“Really?” Bae asked, his face enlightening.

“Yeah, really. Now come on.”

Standing up on her feet, Lacey took Baden’s hand again, dragging him down the road, straight to the school.

Later that day, Lacey was standing by the circulation desk, looking through some registers they kept of the books in the library, when the small bell in the door jingled, causing her to look up quickly, as she always did, to share a smile with whoever walked there, but this time, her gaze got fixed in the person, a tall man she only remembered seeing once. He waked towards her with a black file on his hands.

“Excuse me, you’re Miss French, right?”

“That is me, how can I help you?”

“My name is Maxwell Dove, I’m one Mr. Gold’s security guards. He asked me to bring you this,” he explained, placing the file on the desk between them. “It’s your contract.”

Lacey took the file in hands, her heart racing and seeming to get heavier on her chest. Their deal wasn’t something concrete until now, when the proof of it was right in front of her, making a whole wave of guilty make her bit her lip so hard it hurt. She was on the library, her mother’s favourite place in the world, about to do something the long-passed Colette French would have never forgiven her for, if she was still alive, but that was something Lacey must do, despite of what her conscience insisted to say.

“Oh, thank you,” she managed to mumble. “Tell him I’ll read this contract and it shall be signed before tonight.”

“Alright,” Mr. Dove nodded. “Have a good day, Miss French.”

“You too.”

By the moment he closed the door behind him, Lacey opened the file with trembling fingers, pulling the contract out and taking a seat to start reading it. The first page was full of blank spaces, where her full name and personal data should be written, as he hadn’t asked her for any of it and had nothing to fill the gaps, so she moved to the second one, which described the deal they had made in its essence, before some clauses where added right below.

Accompanying the lines, with her clever blue eyes narrowing at each word, Lacey felt her hands turn into fists as an incredulous gasp left her mouth and she shook her head furiously, full of an anger that difficulted her breath. Lacey stood up, pulling the contract back inside the file before she announced out loud:

“Listen up, folks, the library is closing for today.”

There were some protests, but the library wasn’t that full and she managed to quickly mark the books some people were taking, before closing it and make her way to Gold’s office as if she was a summer storm. The anger was burning in her veins and she knew she need to calm down, otherwise she would end-up killing Adam with her bare hands, by the moment she saw him.

When the elevator’s doors opened in his floor of the building, she went straight to Ashley’s desk. “Where is him?”

“Miss French, I’m sorry to inform but, booking an appointment is something you need to learn how to do,” Ashley said with a sigh, rolling her eyes at the brunette.

“Listen up, I’m not his client, I am the mother of his unborn child, so you better tell him that I’m here and I’m angry.”

Standing up, the attendant opened the transparent glass door, which lead to his office, leaving an impatience Lacey, walking around the waiting room with the file in her hands, tapping her nails against it as if she could throw the thing on Gold’s head, and in that moment, it was exactly what she was thinking about doing. Ashley came back after some minutes with a defeated look on her face.

“He said you can come in,” she informed.

Some kind of evil smile passed through her lips, as she walked to Gold’s opened door. He was sat by his desk, finishing signing some papers when she threw the file on the table, startling him.

“What the fuck is that?” Lacey shout out.

“Our contract,” Adam grumbled, clearly confused.

“No, this is not our contract. I didn’t agree to all those ridiculous clauses,” she said harshly. “Why on earth am I supposed to stop wearing high heels? And I’m not to opine on how I will deliver this kid? Let me tell you something, Mr. Gold, no one, and I repeat, no one, decides my life but me. So, screw your freaking contract, I’m not going to sign this until you erase all the clauses that take off my free will.”

He sighed deeply, pulling the chair behind, so he could stand and walk to her, placing both his hands on her arms, but the brunette pulled away, extremely upset, not wanting to be touched by him.

“Lacey, those clauses are there for a reason: the sake of the baby. You will eventually give up the high heels yourself, because they will become uncomfortable, and about the delivering I just wrote we should chose the safest way to do it.”

“You won’t choose anything, I will,” she answered. “Our deal is for you to get the baby after it is born, only that. As long as it remains inside me, it is still my body and I will decide what is best. You want me to go to your expensive doctors? You want to keep me from drinking? That’s alright, but not the rest. Change it, Gold or I will disappear and you will never even get a sight of this child. I’m not feeling like selling my soul today or any other day.”

He nodded angrily. Adam knew there was nothing in this world that could be able to dissuade that woman, and he was pretty sure she would make her threat real and give their child to the adoption system without thinking twice if he didn’t do what she wanted.

“I will change it,” he promised.

Lacey waved her head positively, starting to walk backwards when she broke down into tears, painful sobs coming up through her throat as she covered her mouth, letting herself fall back in one of the armchairs on the corner of his office.

“What happened?” Gold questioned. “I thought it was what you wanted.”

“This is your fault,” she said between sobs. “I’m a mess of hormones and this is all your fault. I should never ever have slept with you in first place and I should have known better than to forget taking my pill so many times.”

“Sweetheart, calm down. This mess of hormones won’t last forever.”

“Yeah,” Lacey wiped some tears. “But as long as they do, it will keep destroying my heart.”

There was no point in opening the library again, once she had expelled everyone from there earlier, so after she got calmer, Lacey left Gold’s office and headed to Storybrooke’s Preschool, stopping in a grocery store to buy the candies she had promised to Baden. A bunch of parents were already waiting for the kids outside of the building and she easily located Mrs. Potts in the middle of the small crowd and walked to her.

“Hey Helga,” the girl greeted the nanny.

“Miss French, I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” Mrs. Potts replied. “Is everything alright with Mr. Gold?”

“Yeah, perfectly. I just got out of work earlier today and though I should come here to pick Bae with you.”

“And what about your morning sickness? Is it bothering you a lot?”

“It’s terrible.” Lacey's face contracted in a grimace. "I hate this."

Mrs. Potts took a long analysing look at her, however Lacey didn't bother, because the nanny was the only person who hadn't been judging her those last few days. She knew she could have caused a bad impression when Gold showed up with her, telling that she was pregnant and everything else, but it seemed that for Helga it had no meaning, so when she spoke again, Lacey couldn't find anything in herself to get annoyed at her.

"You know, you're very young for Mr. Gold."

"I'm also very lost," the brunette shrugged. "Anyway, he is not interested in me, we have a deal and I'm just living under the same roof he does, because he wants to make sure his child will be fine."

"I doubt that's his only reason," Mrs. Potts said in a humorous snort, right at the moment the school's doors were open. "Come on, it is time to pick up Baden."

She thought about it for a brief second, deciding it should be the best if she didn't get much involved in Baden's life that way, meeting his teacher and everything else, so she refused: "I think I'll wait here."

With a shrug, the nanny walked inside, disappearing behind the big double doors alongside with the other people who were entering the place. Lacey stood there, uncomfortable and feeling a little awkward for just staying there and waiting, but thankfully, she hadn't had to do that for much time, because just a couple of minutes later, Helga came back with Baden, who smiled widely when he saw her, rushing to throw his arms around her legs, just like he had done when he discovered that she was pregnant.

"Lacey!"

"How was your day, little Bae?" She asked with a smile, pulling out of her purse a plastic bag full of goodies and handing it to him, who quickly opened it and made a gleeful noise. "I've brought you the candies I promised and some chocolate too."

"I think you're my new favourite person," Baden giggled, "but don't tell this to papa."

"It will be our little secret," she promised.

Taking a small chocolate bar from inside the bag, Bae opened it as they started making their way home with Helga Potts right behind them, carrying the boy's backpack. Baden seemed distracted with eating, but after some steps, he looked up at the girl with his shiny brown eyes.

"Lacey, I asked my teacher where does babies come from," he confessed.

She coughed, suddenly choking with the air. "Oh, you did?"

"I told her I knew it wasn't the stork that brought them, but the mamas."

"And what did she say?" Lacey questioned with wide eyes, glancing at Mrs. Potts, who was trying very hard not to broke into laughs.

"She said papas got a magical seed they put inside the mamas to make the babies grown," Baden continued, innocently. "Then she asked why I was asking this and I said I was just curious. I didn't tell her about you, like I promised."

Lacey couldn't even begin to imagine how the poor teacher must have had blushed at his question, as she knew her own cheeks were burning with colour, however Bae hadn't showed any interest in getting an explanation on how did a baby ended up inside her, so she never thought he would come up with this question to his teacher.

"Well, thanks, but you shouldn't keep making those strange questions to your teacher," Lacey instructed. "Ask Mrs. Potts next time, huh?"

"Ok!" Bae agreed happily biting at his chocolate.

"Why me?" Helga inquired.

"Because I have no idea what to say to a kid in these matters," she concluded, following the joyful boy home.

[changhomin-hatsukoi]

(Repost coz I didn’t see my post under the tag when i checked it with the tumblr app.. not sure why?? does anyone else has this problem??)

Once upon a time, i wrote a (kinda) headcanon on Sebastian/Jonathan with malec :  HERE

There had been few requests to continue it (I lost the asks..sorry ^^;;). So here it is..

But first,

- I am in no way ship #malec with anyone else except with each other.

- This was based on the finale where Jonathan/Sebastian was.. resurrected (??) by Lilith. And I take it by now Magnus knows about him… kinda (tbh, i don’t think Magnus was paying much attention to any other Shadowhunters except those important to him/he knows well).

- Since they didn’t interact at all in the show… that we know.. so all the flashbacks in here are headcanon of what possibly happened off-screen.

- italics + blockquote means (headcanon) flashback.

italics + bold Lilith

italics + strike what happened next that Jonathan’s mind chose to forget/deny/ignore.

*********************

“I’m afraid it’s not a very nice place. The first day I was there, they started burning my skin. Just one layer at a time. They said I was too pretty for their world… Too human.”

- Jonathan Morgenstern (about Edom)

He…. died.

The sharp crack of Isabelle Lightwood’s whip as it cut through the chilly night air and split his skin open.

The white-hot pain as the sword ran through his flesh.

The ice-cold water chilling to the bone…

…. and finally, that sweet sweet moment of peace as he breathed his last breath.

He died.

Rise, my son…

And then, he wasn’t.

Mine..

Who?

You’re mine.. always mine..

My love…

Love?

Is this how love feels like?

Pain

It feels like the raging inferno around him.. inside him, melting his organs.. boiling his blood.. grabbing his..essence.. and forcing him back inside this mangled mortal flesh.

No.

Love is.. not this..

Love.. Love is…

“Ah, Magnus~.. tlet me introduce you, this is Sebastian Verlac He is in charge of the security tonight..”

“Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn. Nice to meet .. uh.. what was your name again?” *cheeky smile*

Then Alec passed by and Jonathan promptly forgotten like yesterday’s bad dream.

Love is…

“Mr Bane, would you care for some drink?”

“Ah, thank you.. wow, 1952 Dalmore~ Well, never let it be said that you Shadowhunters lot don’t know how to treat their guests…”

“We aim to please and of course, do anything possible to make the representatives happy and comfortable. After all we’ve done to you Downworlders, this is the least we could do to start making amends.”

“Oh, that… was a surprise. A pleasant surprise, don’t get me wrong.. But a surprise nonetheless. Aside from  Alexander (for obvious reason) and Isabelle~ and Biscuit too, i supposed… I never imagined other Shadowhunters really appreciate the equal transparency that Alexander is trying to push here.”

“I can’t speak for others but I, for one is looking forward to all the possible changes and of course, i am very much looking forward working with you in near future, Mr Bane..”

“Magnus, please~ And same here, Mr..uh..?”

“Just call me Sebastian”

A smile so sweet that it made Jonathan’s breath hitched

“Oh, okay.. Sebas..”

Just then Alec joined them and stole the warlock away - Jonathan again casted aside like old newspaper.

Love is…

“Magnus..! Wha..what are you doing here?”

“Sebastian? Well, I figure that maybe Jonathan would try to run through back here instead of the main entrance as it is swarming with Shadowhunters at the moment. Have you seen any suspicious man on your way here?”

“…. no, I haven’t seen anyone.”

“Shit. Maybe he slipped past by us already? Oh, what’s wrong with your hand? you’re hurt?”

“Ah.. No. No.. it’s nothing. I.. I burn myself earlier. Listen, i better g..”

“Let me heal that for you. Don’t worry, it’s free of charge~”

Softest gentlest touch and he is lost.

And Magnus’s phone rang - It was Alec frantically checking up on him and Jonathan slipped away into the as Magnus was busy reassuring Alec that he is fine and will be coming back to the infirmary in a moment.

Slimy cold hand feathered across his forehead, oddly gentle as it brushed back his hair. 

Live, my son…

Live… and i promise you the world..

The world?

What use of it to a broken monster like him..

Rise…

And what you desire will be yours….

Him.

He wants him.

And Jonathan Morgenstern opens his eyes once again..

****************

A/N:

This headcanon is based on MY take on Jonathan’s character in the show. I think despite him having this rage against everyone, what he really wants is someone who just loves him despite him being who..or what he is now: more demon than human. 

Look at his reaction to finding out Clary is his sister. Yes, his definition of love is screwed up.. But honestly, more than lust the reason he kissed her (imo) was that he honestly thought he finally found someone who will love him and be by his side and won’t leave him.

This is also the reason why he forgave Valentine so quickly despite him literally sent him to hell.. just because he said he cares about him.

Does this means Jonathan is not a bad guy? No. He is still heartless and cruel.

BUT I do understand why he has all that rage.. 

No, he is not right. But I do feel for him...

And I am curious, how Jonathan would feel when he saw the pure love malec has for each other (coz lbr, clary and jace relationship is still volatile and a really bad example of a happy adult loving relationship (atm). And Sizzy isn’t even a thing yet).

I think he saw how this Shadowhhunter that he heard was formerly cold and detached and unemotional, flourished.. and all because he loves and be loved so deeply and unconditionally by Magnus.

I imagined, he would want that for himself too.. He would want what Alec has.

Oh, and I know Magnus isn’t usually so sweet and gentle (except to Alec) ..especially to a Shadowhunter. BUT since I made it that the first time they were officially introduced was during the Downworld Cabinet meeting so Magnus was in his giddy ‘lovely to see you Mr Lightwood, and you Mr Bane’ flirty mood + he is eager to support his boyfriend.

This was just an idea.. kinda like headcanon but~ not really ^^;;;

Please forgive my weird headspace~

Oh, this could be part of my other (mostly malec) headcanon collection:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

mini hc 1

mini hc 2

mini hc 3

mini hc 4

mini hc 5

mini hc 6

mini hc 7

mini hc 8

mini hc 9

Jonathan Morgenstern Special with Malec Part 1

Sizzy Special (with Malec as special appearance ofc ^^)

- Crizz

LOOK HOW CUTE HE IS!!!

(p/s: @magnuscaresalot were you the one that sent the ask regarding this headcanon verse? I forgot ^^;;;)