#originally this was gonna say welcome back white jesus | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

oonajaeadira · 3 years ago

Text

I’ll Never Fall in Love Again: Scene 3: Flashback to the Proposal

Rating: T for now

Fandom: The Bubble

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!reader (UPDATE: reader was not born in America. Feel free to choose your country of origin....)

Warnings: none. Bright light, french toast.

A/N: Welcome to the first of several flashbacks….

…Three years ago….

“So, I may have a solution to your little problem,” Morgan smirked, waiting for the server to warm your coffee and leave you in peace before dropping the other shoe, “but you’re not gonna like it.”

The high windows of the upscale eatery let in so much of the SoCal sunshine that you wondered if it was creating a shortage elsewhere. Everything here was white and silver, sun bouncing off every surface–you’ve seen crystal chandeliers give off less sparkle and light.

“Listen. I feel clotheslined by having to fly back and forth all the time and the visas and fees and flytimes and taxes are killing me,” you sighed, taking the time to cut up your cardamom french toast. “Now you’re telling me that this film could get me a bid for an Oscar nod. I want to be here, M. Full time. I want to be on hand. My career is taking off. If I could only put down roots– Look. I’m willing to do just about anything. I’ll pull a sham marriage if it will get me a green card and a citizenship.”

Morgan leaned on her elbows, her mock-evil smile peeking out from behind her folded hands, her eyebrows riding high as she stared at you, waiting for you to catch on.

And when you did, choking a little on your coffee, eyes wide with disbelief--surely she didn’t mean– “Really? You’ve got to be joking.”

“I’m not. It happens more often than you think. Couple of I do’s, signatures, a few interviews, bam, one year later, you’re one of us.”

“Jesus, M.”

“I’m just going to let that sink in.” She liberally siracha’d her scramble, putting on a show of patiently waiting.

“Who.”

“Well, before I say–”

“Who, M.”

“Dieter Bravo.” At least she had the decency to be quiet while you blinked at her.

“What?”

It was only when you turned your view to the toast basket in thought that she started up in a desperate effort to talk you into it. “It’s actually a really great opportunity for both of you–”

“Morgan. Hush.” Open hands, insert head. “I’m going to let you speak, but you have to give me one full minute to wrap myself around what you just said.”

The butter knife bounced a reflection of your agent pulling up her sleeve to consult her watch.

Dieter Bravo.

You’d just come off a job with him–The Fall of Timon.The final edits were being made and the effects laid in. You still had ADR on the books, but the reshoots were done. And the early buzz was good. Really good, actually. It was already picked up for several festivals and the press circuit would most definitely be massive….

And Dieter was no less than brilliant in it. (You’d seen all of his work. He was always pretty brilliant.) Even though you had a scant number of scenes in the film, most of them were with him.

You’d been nervous to work with him but he’d been different than expected. The press made him out to be some insufferable Hollywood brat–someone who went rogue if he was inspired, or lazy if he didn’t get his way–someone undirectable but who made brave choices and put out a captivating product. He seemed bored in interviews, not really giving much when asked about his career, preferring to let people think he didn’t watch his own stuff, that this was just a job like any other. He just punched the clock and went home to smoke a joint at the end of the day to forget about it. Effortless. The diva playing humble.

But that’s not the Dieter you got on set. He’d been…generous. Attentive. An amazing scene partner. If you tried a new direction, he followed. And he would often surprise you, but never to the point of upstaging you; he knew when to let you shine. He challenged you, but spotted you, always right there with you in every scene. The two of you had chemistry. Not of a romantic nature–although early screencaps of your shared scenes often had the trades captioning them with trite words like “electrifying” and “mutually captivated”--but of a professional nature.

A couple of old friends had asked you if he had ever been forward or condescending, if he had ever been drunk and cynical when the cameras were off or if he cornered you–

It was the Dieter people expected. But not the one you got.

Oh yes, there had been a few playfully misogynistic nicknames–which you allowed because it was obvious that he was being ironic and teasing, if not extremely juvenile. And he had kissed you–once–after a press party where you’d been happily buzzed and he’d gotten sloppy drunk. But it had been a mutual joke, funny and flirty and par for the course at an industry party. You were friends and having a laugh. You may have even goaded him on. And there was never any indication that he remembered it the next day, so there was nothing to be embarrassed about. You never really thought twice about it. Next day back on set, nothing but respect.

But his eyes might have shined a bit more after that. With trust. With friendship. An equal.

What you came to understand was that Dieter had been following your short career and saw potential in you. Not just your talent, but your choice of projects. He admired you. You weren’t just a co-worker for the month you joined the cast, you were a partner. A kindred working spirit.

“As I was saying,” Morgan flicked her sleeve back over her watch and went back to her eggs, “I ran into his stylist at an event in the Hills and we talked, and you came up and then your visa issue came up because she was going through the same thing a few years back. And I get this call two days later; his team is looking for a way to smooth out all this…Venice Beach business.”

Ah yes. Early morning joggers had found him sleeping naked on the beach about a month back. Apparently he was still high from the night before and babbling something about the ocean being his cosmic mistress. The joggers tried to help him, things escalated, and he took a swing at one, punching out a tooth (correction: karate-chopping out a tooth).The tabloids were still milking it, starting to label him not just as a diva but as possibly really losing it. And this, just mere weeks after having been caught on camera making weird angry bull sounds at the paparazzi who wouldn’t stop photographing him exiting his meditation center…

“I see.” You sized up your agent, trying to figure out just how devious she was. “And you just piped up and said, ‘boy, do I have just the sucker–’”

Morgan stabbed at her eggs. “Bravo suggested it.”

“What?”

“Well,” her hand flicked flippantly as she paused to swallow, “Mm. I mean, his PR team’s been trying to find a way to soften his image, charity work and such, but nobody will have him and it’s not really his jam. Stylist must have spilled the beans, because he came up with the whole thing and brought it to them. Mutually beneficial. Said it could get you your green card and it might look good to get him paired with someone who would neutralize him.”

“Me? Why?” Did he really think that highly of you? Or just the opposite–as stupid and looking for anyway to get your name in the press?

“Well it makes sense, doesn’t it? It’s convenient. You two met on a job. There were those press shots, and just enough speculation for it to be feasible–”

“--which got shut down when those photos of him and Corrina Heinz came out–”

“Psh. One little fling with an heiress. Easy to explain as a on-par Dieter-esque modus operandi if the two of you were quarreling–”

“--we were never together!”

“But you could be!”

A sip of coffee. A bite of french toast. You sighed the sigh of someone who couldn’t believe she was considering this. “You realize that to get my green card I’d have to live with him for three years.”

“We can get that cut to one, no problem, especially if you get that Oscar.”

“Okay, fine. Still. What. Am I supposed to live with him for a whole year?”

“He’s got a big house, you won’t even notice each other. And how convenient that you’ll be doing a press tour for some of it! That’s time you’ll be in the same place in the public eye but you won’t have to live together.”

“Except then we’ll be expected to share hotel rooms.”

“Oh. Well. We can get around that, don’t worry. It’s already in your rider that you get your own rooms. We’re just working out the details of making sure your room and Bravo’s are always adjacent with joining doors, keep up the pretense–”

“Wait. What do you mean, ‘we’re working out the details?’ That sounds like…a thing you are doing now, M. Present tense.”

“What are you doing on the last Sunday next month? I pulled some strings and got a beachside venue on Catalina Island. Same place Harrison Ford married–”

“Morgan! Are you serious? I mean, this going really quick–”

“Because I think it’s a good move. And I don’t want to give you time to think because you’ll come up with some reason to back away. Listen, kitten.” The woman who had been instrumental to your success--who you trusted, who had proved many times over that she had your best interest at heart--laid down her fork and reached across the white linen to take your hand. “Say no if you want to and this machine stops. But this is a lucky opportunity and you’re just friends helping each other. That’s all. One year, eighteen months tops, you get your card, you file for amicable divorce, you’re done. You want that citizenship, right?”

“I suppose. You’re sure Dieter’s okay with this?”

“Promise, kitten. I really wouldn’t be bringing this to the table–and certainly not one this expensive–if I didn’t think this was a good idea.”

Her blue eyes held yours with as much care and gentleness as her hand squeezing at your fingers. She was right, it’s a common story; happens all the time. “Catalina’s pricey. I’ll be working the rest of my life to pay for it.”

“Ah,” patting your hand and going back to her scramble, “Dieter’s paying. Offered to.”

“Oh.” Well. That…made sense, you supposed. Maybe. Not sure.

“You take some time to think about it. I’ll give you a call tomorrow morning.”

“Okay.”

You remember the french toast being very sweet. And maybe the sun had shifted in the sky, but instead of bouncing off the glassware now, it shone right though. Crystal clear.

______

When your phone rang that evening, at first you assumed Morgan was jumping the gun. Then you saw that you assumed wrong.

“Dieter. Hi.”

“Heyyyyyy, missus.”

“Hey.” Hopefully your little laugh sounded more friendly than awkward. “It’s been a while. I heard you were working on Woo’s film--”

“Yeah. Listen.” His little laugh definitely sounded friendly and awkward. “You really on board with this whole thing? I know your agent gave the thumbs up, but I’m not going forward unless I hear it from you that you’re okay.”

And suddenly, that’s all it took. The fact that he made the time to call and ask. That he cared even a little. “I am, actually. It’s really fast, but the timing works and the sooner we start the clock, the sooner we’re done, right?”

“Right. Yes. Amazing. Thanks, baby cakes.”

“I should be thanking you and you know it.”

His bigger laugh was relieved and relaxed. “And I promise I’ll be on my best behavior. I’m not going to make it look like you’re gullible and married an asshole.”

“Oh, I see. We’re starting early with the vows. And I get to play the girl that soothes the savage beast.” An allusion to the role you’d played in The Fall of Timon–a soothsayer that managed to be the cap in the bottle for his transforming character.

“Well. Not to typecast you. But you are pretty good at it, cakes. Oscar-worthy.” Something in his voice softened with that phrase, hard to decipher. “Hey. What are you doing this weekend? Do you wanna get the mill grinding?”

“Uh…sure? What did you have in mind?”

“Well, thought maybe we could go to the Farmer’s Market and Grove on Saturday. Get some burgers and beer, do some shopping. And I have an event on Sunday. You have a stylist? We could make an appearance–”

“That…yes…but…The Market?? You’ll get mobbed, D. We’ll never get out of there.”

“Eh. Hat. Sunglasses. That tried and true bullshit.”

“You think they won’t recognize you.”

“Oh they will. That’s the point. Just enough to be seen, but obvious that we wanna keep it to ourselves, have a normal day. That’s when people keep their distance and get their phones out. We didn’t ‘show up somewhere,” we were ‘spotted together.’”

Spotted together. Like a game. Oh, maybe this was going to be fun. With Dieter? Suddenly even more so. “I see. In that case, can I get empanadas and ice cream instead then?”

“You can have anything you want. It’s on me. It’s all on me, cakes.”

“Nice. Great. Alright then,” you laughed. “I think you’ll make a fine husband, Mr. Bravo.”

You could almost see the smile that filtered through the phone. “I think you’ll make a fine wife, Mrs. Bravo.”

“Oh no. Don’t you dare. I’m keeping my own name. Yours is atrocious.”

That smile seemed to widen. “How dare you. That name came to me during a soul journey in Death Valley.”

“You told me you chose it out of a sock while you were high.”

“What. I didn’t lie. Both can be true. But that’s fine. Maybe I don’t want you using my good name. Far be it from me to force anything on you. Ever.” He let the implication of that–the certainty and weight of it–hang for a moment, his version of this strange marriage’s second vow. “Thanks again. It’ll be good to see you. I’ll pick you up noon on Saturday, okay?”

“It’s a date.” An immediate cringe you hoped he couldn’t hear through his end. “In that I mean, it’s on the books.”

“I got you. See ya, babes.”

You stood staring at your phone for a good solid minute, but seeing a million question marks instead. In all your wildest dreams, you never imagined your someday wedding to be going quite like this. What an extraordinary and odd life...

When you looked up, you found that your feet had taken you to your closet. Time to decide what you would wear for Saturday, remembering that you wanted something to please the cameras–

The cameras. And nobody else.

______

SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

#i'll never fall in love again #dieter bravo #the bubble #the bubble fanfic #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x f!reader

260 notes · View notes

gncrevan · 3 years ago

Text

alright, i'm bringing back my "nor says some shit about every ESC entry" tradition, sorry or you're welcome, whichever you prefer.

ukraine: i wanna bring goodwill here but the rap is very bad and using black people as set dressing is arguably worse. i like the singing tho

austria: choice quote from this literal girlboss anthem — "we can be CEO / yeah you already know / we can be the boss / fly higher than the gods" cringe

netherlands: boring as usual but it's nice they're singing in dutch for a change

albania: potential to be really funny, the song sucks ass but the music video is game of thrones meets stolen visuals from, like, florence and the machine's king mv and kiki rockwell's same old energy mv it's hilarious

uk: oh my god it's white jesus! he's here! honestly it's not horrible so germany has good chances of being in last place again and that's a reason to celebrate in and of itself, thank you white jesus

sweden: this song has such a weird fucking structure, first it just starts without any real intro which is uncommon for a ballad, then it suddenly drops a synth bass in the second verse, i have no idea what's going on? like i don't hate it but what

france: finally, some good fucking trash! and from france no less, that's so unexpected

serbia: i wish it was a little more unhinged but this is genuinely a good song i would listen to in my free time. i hope she washes her hands on stage.

armenia: walmart mumford & sons

spain: sounds like something they would play in 365 days. also extreme y2k vibes in the video for some reason?

romania: the juxtaposition of a dance beat, really involved choreography, and a singer who just has no energy is honestly. it's a lot. i kinda love it. i love this weird twink

italy: ok so i really like mahmood and i have massive respect for him for showing himself in tender embrace with a man in this video, but the song is kinda. meh. that's sad

cyprus: what's with all the history-themed videos this year? lol anyway this sucks toes

greece: props for singing acapella with only some vocoder backing on this for over a minute. i mean it's still bad but that's kinda impressive

belgium: this one's probably gonna be made or broken by the choreography cause what little they showed of that in the vid was really good and really improved the song

azerbaijan: there was the chance for this to be a really melodramatic power ballad and they didn't take it. the video was a little bit hilarious tho, the rain effects killed me

lithuania: very, uh. lynchian idk

portugal: tfw your back-up singers all have better technique than you

israel: what in the rupaul's drag race contestant's original song

australia: terrible lyrics aside this could have been so fucking operatic and y'all just didn't do it? you just didn't? why???

montenegro: "the air is what they need / the air is what they breathe / they'll die without it / it's unforgivable" so true bestie

san marino: jared leto joker

bulgaria: y'all ever heard wolfgang petry make "rock" cause that's kinda this hook

poland: if more of it was like the bridge it would be pretty great, hoping for good staging

moldova: polka!!!!! fuck yeah polka!!!

norway: it's so fucking stupid i love it

north macedonia: ........ i like the rings in her hair. song's boring.

switzerland: yeah unsurprisingly this is absolutely terrible

malta: what is with these gay/trans pandering songs, why are there so many of them, why are they all so disingenuous and why do they all sound like shit

ireland: this sounds like every other song and also not like a song at all

finland: ok listen. i was a the rasmus stan in my early teens, and i stopped listening cause they got worse. in the shadows was their prime. whatever this is is embarrassing and kinda gross. please hike up your pants, lauri, and don't act weird with your new female band member, and don't write fetishistic shit like "a girl who looks like she's a boy". please stop. you're in your 40s and this is sad.

czech republic: i will probably forget this song in 5 minutes

iceland: country abba. abba but country.

estonia: the only good part was the western horse gallop beat

germany: they really couldn't do a second take on that third line, huh? anyway, germany zero points <3

denmark: i think it's so funny when obvious pop artists act like they're playing hard rock or punk or riot grrl or some shit

latvia: LET! THEM! SAY! FUCK! AND! PUSSY!!!!!

georgia: somehow three songs in one and all of them feel like overly long interludes, idk what's going on

slovenia: anime opening sang by a decently ok guy at karaoke. also the video is just a slide show of the storyboard which is funny

croatia: how many times do we have to teach you this lesson, old man? nobody likes acoustic singer/songwriter bullshit at eurovision

#eurovision song contest #esc 2022 #eurovision 2022 #eurovision #esc22 #nor watches telly #long post for ts

8 notes · View notes

serenadeonacanoe · 3 years ago

Text

Honestly, I'd piss him off on purpose. (Namjoon x OFC)

Pairing: Namjoon x Original Female Character

Genre/Warnings: Smut, Angst, Fluff, too tired to beta

Tags: Artist!Namjoon, Yoongi and Tae are the best flatmates, Enemies to Lovers I guess... more like brats to making out in the storage unit, OFC is an idiot.

Summary:

"Wow. Is that that grumpy artist behind you? Jesus. He really looks like a bit of a dick. And you are right. He really is hot..." Oh no. Speakerphone. Namjoon was standing behind me and was staring at me. Then at my phone. He let out a little laugh, then raised his hand to wave at Tae and Yoongi outside who were now also staring at him as if frozen, before turning around in unison. As if that would help. As if he couldn't see them. Or better even... couldn't hear them.

[...]

Mister Darcy has nothing on Kim Namjoon - that new and upcoming artist you probably already heard of (You haven't? How dare you? At least have the decency to pretend you have!). He is cold, serious, and rather good at making other people believe he is a prick. Especially Elizabeth Bennet - uh... Charlotte - is about to lose it because of him. Maybe in a good way. Man, I'd literally piss him off on purpose.

More chapters on AO3

CHAPTER 1

Even the sound of my own nails rhythmically tapping on the top of the counter was annoying me. To be fair, it didn't need much today to blow my fuze that had never been particularly long in the first place. But after a week consisting of being belittled by old white men and endless hours of unpaid overtime I about had it. Welcome to the art world. You know well before you enter that the hours are horrible and the job market is more than frustrating, but you love art and you have good organisational skills, you are resilient, charming when it counts and tend to romanticize things even when you know you shouldn't. It's too late to turn around now.

"That is why I don't use an agenda or notebook. If something is important enough for me to attend I simply won't forget. I know you youngsters are all about the bullet journaling and expressing yourself by mapping out your life but it really is just another way to procrastinate instead of getting to actual work." For a second I considered throwing my damn notebook in the buyer's face, but that probably wouldn't have helped my CV and the new job I would have to look for starting tomorrow. At least I should have screamed at him a little. Mainly, that I didn't care, that I was on my period and my shitty shower in the shitty flat i shared had broken and no dry shampoo in the world had fixed my hair this morning and that god damn it, how the hell was I supposed to remember every phone number, every call my boss had to take, every art handling transport I had organized if I couldn't write it down somewhere. Instead, I smiled. Died a little on the inside and complimented him on the gift of his exceptional memory and asked whether he would like another cup of coffee.

"What a dick." Samantha murmured, more to herself than me, after the guy had finally left, which made me snort under my breath. She usually didn't say much but when she did it was usually pure gold. In the end, it didn't matter that he was. Didn't matter that everyone at the gallery thought the art he had bought from us over the last couple of months had neither been smart nor impressive purchases. Mainly expensive. And flashy.

"Doesn't matter now." I said in a sigh after a quick glance at the clock. It was Friday night and we were about to close. Since it was my birthday on Monday I had taken two days off, about the longest break I had had this year and I was looking forward to being the lazy slob for a few days I was maybe always meant to be. In silence we answered a few last emails, tidied up the desks and counters so that potential buyers that would come in over the weekend wouldn't have to suspect anyone was actually working here. - A white desk. A huge Imac on it. That was all they needed to see, folders and pens and apparently especially agendas to be hidden away in drawers.

At five to eight I threw on my coat and Samantha just gave me a tired smile. Probably happy for me, just exhausted. "Have fun then? Don't get too wasted?" "Oh..." I said with a huge smug grin on my lips. "You have no idea... gonna take a bottle of Moët with me from the bar and drink it in my bathtub after eating a huge pepperoni pizza by myself and dancing to only the finest of 90s Euro Trash." I couldn't help it, apparently, I felt it necessary to give Sam a little demonstration, waving my arms up and down while swaying my hips in a way that I'd probably would not have if it hadn't been for a bit with an audience of a single person. Or maybe two?

A quiet scoff behind me and I quickly turned around, slowly lowering my arms, Sam biting her lower lip at the sight of me standing there like an idiot in front of HIM of all people.

Men didn't have to be old to annoy me. Or white. Yes, those were the ones that pissed me off most usually, but no one had managed to do so as much as Kim Namjoon recently. And now he was standing there, looking me up and down and stopping at my hair. The crazy too-much-dry-shampoo-because-the-shower-broke-hair. "Nice." He just commented and then looked over at Sam. "I'd like to take a last look before Sunday's opening if that is okay?" I stood there, my shoulders dropping, completely ignored.

"Uhm, actually, my babysitter has to leave in about an hour and I will have to be home before that." Samantha replied and I was impressed by how calm she stayed. "Of course." Namjoon said and gave her a slight smile. "Anyone else still around? Chris maybe?" Of course Chris hadn't been in today. It was Friday and unless important guests had announced themselves the owner of the gallery wasn't around on Fridays... "I am afraid not. But maybe Charlotte has a few minutes?" Well. Thanks. Thanks a lot. I felt a little betrayed. "Wouldn't want to keep anyone from their important Moët-Pizza-Dance Party plans." Namjoon replied before I could say a word. His voice once more dropping to a hushed, deep disapproval and his hands buried in the pockets of his rather expensive looking coat. Silence for a few moments and then he just walked off towards the room his exhibition had been set up all week. Showing without a further word that I would have to stay anyways if he wanted it that way.

"Well thank you for pushing me under the bus like that. Really appreciate it." "I am so sorry. But I was serious, I can't lose this babysitter. She got Jamie to eat vegetables. VEGETABLES!" Samantha suddenly seemed in a rush, grabbing her jacket and purse and showering me in promises she would make it up to me. Even though we both knew that wouldn't happen and wasn't necessary. Suddenly having to stay longer was normal. I just hated that it had to be today. And because of him.

I heard the door close behind Sam and I stood there for a second before putting my bag down again. Usually, I would have followed the artist, asking if I could somehow help, but nahhh... my ego was bruised up enough now, especially remembering the little dance. I closed my eyes. Fucking hated the guy. Always had. Well, not quite. I had thought he was cool for about five minutes when he had come in the first time. We had heard about him for quite a few months before, I think I had even seen pictures of him at some point, but those were nothing compared to him in real life. He came in all cheekbones and sharp chin and an all grey outfit, quick pace, observant gaze. Incredibly hot. He had also completely ignored me.

That's how it had started - a bruised ego. He couldn't know that it was my weak spot. Having studied art and its management and now feeling like a better secretary at times, when my colleagues and I were doing all the behind the scenes work while Chris worked very little hours and ended up with all the money and recognition. I was aware this wasn't the only field of work where this was the case, but it still frustrated me... I had imagined my life in the last years of my 20s to be a bit more glamorous than living in a tiny apartment on the outskirts of the city... spending my Friday night waiting for some rude artist dude to leave so I could lock up.

But what I perhaps hated most about him... was that I admired him. - Purely for his art. Really. Even the fact that he kept acting as if I wasn't around every time he came in didn't mean I couldn't admit that. At least to myself. The stories behind his huge colleagues were clever and thought through, but even without context, the pure aesthetics were mesmerizing. It was the kind of art that touched something deep inside of you and standing in front of it I always had a hundred questions. Whenever he brought in a new piece I was the first one to sneak a peek in the back rooms before it was hung.

"I don't get why you have such a problem with him. He is just... quiet. I think he might even be shy... stop being so sensitive and just ask him out already." I had almost strangled Sam for that comment a couple of weeks back. Stop being so sensitive. What did that even mean? Comments like that made me want to cry and scream at the same time, which probably would have been perceived as even more sensitive, but when had insensitivity become something to strive for? I had only kept quiet because I liked Sam and I knew what she had tried to say. At least I thought so. That I might have given less of a shit if I hadn't been rather attracted to Namjoon. Even though I had never mentioned it, she just knew. She knew if I didn't care about something I didn't waste my time on it. But if something made me angry or upset there was usually more to it. I hated that she could read me that easily. But he was still a dick and I still wanted to go home.

He took his sweet time. After an hour I walked up to him, a little speech prepared in my head about how he could come back first thing tomorrow. But when he turned around he just raised a hand between us to keep me from interrupting and turned away again. I hadn't seen that he was on the phone. "No, it's nothing, just one of the gallery employees." I heard him say and okay... if I wasn't about to explode before I was now. I stood there for a minute, fuming, and then simply walked back to the office area, my hand shaking when I started turning off the gallery lights one by one. It wasn't as satisfying as I had hoped but still felt good. Two minutes later the only lights still on were the one above my head and the one in front of the door. I would at least give him a clear direction where to head, he seemed to need it.

When Namjoon appeared out of one of the dark corners he looked even more annoyed than usual. Looking my direction through squinting eyes and his tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek. "Seriously?" he yelled my way and almost walked into one of the little flyer shelves. Wasn't the first time I had seen that happen to him though so maybe that had nothing to do with the light.

I felt oddly triumphant. By the time I had put on my coat and turned off the remaining lights, ready to finally lock up, Namjoon had almost found his way, standing in the open door, still on his phone. A little groan from my side when he didn't even notice that I was standing behind me went by unnoticed. Or simply ignored. But instead of the appropriate clearing of the throat or the maybe less polite squeezing past him, I just put my hands on his back and gently pushed him forward a bit, until his feet hit the pavement and he turned around. Dropping his hand with the phone in it, for a second he looked like he wanted to push back. Or trample me.

"Okay, what the hell is your problem, Charlotte?" His voice was hoarse. His eyes dark. God, he was hot. I hated him so much. "You." I simply replied and stared at him for a second, then turned around and locked the two locks on the door before stepping over to the alarm system. I couldn't help feeling smug because apparently, he knew my name. I imagined him staring at the back of my head because he was flustered, but couldn't be sure. All I knew was that when I turned around again a minute later he was still standing there, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his lips pressed together forming a straight line and watching me.

"Do you always act like that at work around people who could get you into trouble?" He was right, he could get me into trouble. But I was too fired up now, my heart racing. "Is that a threat?" "An observation." "Only around the ones I don't like." "Cool." "Great." "Enjoy the dance party. Sounds shit."

And with those words he had turned around, coat flying open in the wind, unfortunately making him look really cool as he walked away and I ABSOLUTELY HATED HIM. I kept my mouth shut and just walked off in the other direction, realizing minutes later that my car was parked the other way, but I kept walking for a while before I finally turned around. It took a while to calm down and only cuddling up to my cat on the couch to trash tv finally did the job. But by then I had realized something I wasn't sure I liked too much. Yeah, I thought he was a prick. And yeah I should have just played it cool. Would have been much smarted in many regards. But I also had somewhat enjoyed myself in the most fucked up way.

Seeing that stern look, that intense posture as he was towering over me... man, I'd literally piss him off on purpose.

More chapters on AO3

#namjoon fanfic #bts fanfic #namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon angst #namjoon fluff #artist!namjoon

84 notes · View notes

musicfast · 3 years ago

Video

youtube

THUNDERDOME BEST OF ´96 - FULL ALBUM 231:07 MIN - 1996 HD HQ HIGH QUALITY CD 1 + CD 2 + CD 3

TRACKLIST UNDER THE CUT

TRACKLIST CD 1 01 Dj Dano - Something Bigger (Here We Go Again Mix) 00:00 02 Mike Ink & The Chain Of Brotherhood - Lovely Ugly Brutal World 03:20 03 The Prophet - The Techno God (Hell Remix) 07:00 04 Scarface - Speedy Gonzales 10:33 05 NIP Collective - Weekend 14:05 06 Control DC - Ritmo Del Diavolo 17:35 07 Human Resource - Fuck Them 21:07 08 Simstim - One Hundred Two Hundred 24:10 09 The Dreamteam - 3 Tha Hard Way 27:37 10 Lenny Dee - RAW 31:04 11 T.O.P.D.R.O.P - Achtung (Speedcity Remix) 34:16 12 The Dreamteam - Live In Tilburg (Team Spirit) 37:48 13 Dano - Welcome To The Thunderdome 41:20 14 Mutoid - Necronomicon 44:46 15 Mexamix - Intro 47:55 16 Ramirez - Terapia 48:11 17 Kuandra - La Onda 50:23 18 Dj Hooligan - B.O.T.T.R.O.P. 51:21 19 Yves De Ruyter - Rave City 53:09 20 Thunderball - Bonzai Channel One 55:08 21 Swat - The Fly Is Dead 56:55 22 Michael - White Line Cocaine 58:41 23 Dj Bountyhunter - Demillitarized Zone 1:00:50 24 Buzz Fuzz - D-Leria 1:01:52 25 Jean Sibart & Joel Trambel - Right Is Wrong 1:04:28 26 English Muffin - Blood Of An English Muffin 1:07:11 27 3 Steps Ahead - Motherfuckers You´re Gonna Die 1:07:58 28 Dr. Mindfuck - Beine 1:09:49 29 The Prophet - Dominatin 1:11:35 30 Riot Sqaud - Nonshlen Tustokken (Ode To Vortex) 1:13:14 31 Outro 1:14:55

TRACKLIST CD 2 01 Dj Lancinhouse Meets The Stunned Guys - Cold´s Getting Bigger 1:15:13 02 3 Steps Ahead - Drop It (Original Mix) 1:18:47 03 Lockjaw - Ruff´n Ruggin 1:22:24 04 Marc Smith - The Mad One 1:25:41 05 Dj Isaac - Bad Dreams - (Remix) 1:29.00 06 Scoot Brown Meets Dj Paul - Cheese´n Beats 1:32:11 07 Body Lotion II - Make Your Dance 1:36:02 08 Dj Waxweazle & Guitar Rob - This Is How It Started 1:39:31 09 Dj Weirdo & Dj Phil Omanski - Young Birds 1:43:00 10 Private Productions - Looped (Mix) 1:46:15 11 Buzz Fuzz - Pump Up The Bass 1:49:20 12 Dj Sim - Straight Of The Dance Floor 1:52:35 13 Wasting Program - Jazz Sacrilege 1:55:55 14 The Washington Affair - Should I Say Fuck It 1:59:08 15 Megamix - Intro 2:03:13 16 Bertocucci Feranzano - XTC Love 2:03:28 17 Vanugenth The 5Th - Pussycat 2:05:35 18 Predator - Mind Of A Lunatic 2:07:27 19 Diss Reaction - Jieehaaaa 2:09:17 20 Jeremy - Go With The Flow 2:10:30 21 Masoko Solo - Pessa Pessa 2:12:14 22 Dj Weirdo & Dj Sim - Go Get Busy 2:13:53 23 Dj Paul - Play Me Game 2:16:14 24 Gabbaheads - I´m A Thunderdome Baby 2:18:02 25 The Ender - Get Me Sexy 2:20:10 26 The Scotchman - Get Busytime 2:21:53 27 Technohead - I Wanna Be A Hippy 2:23:47 28 Critical Mass - Psychotic Break (Lenny Dee Mix) 2:25:20 29 3 Steps Ahead - Hardcore 2:27:36 30 The Prophet - House Time 2:29:52 31 Ralphie Dee - Mad As Hell 2:31:09 32 Outro 2:33:13

TRACKLIST CD 3 01 Dj Delirium - & Guitar Rob - The Way We Rocked It (Live In N.Y.C.) 2:37:01 02 Miss Groovy - Jungle Sickness 2:40:53 03 Duo Pennotti - Addicted 2 Raves (Buzz Fuzz Mix) 04 Dj Weirdo & Dj Delirium - Open Your Eyez! 2:45:00 05 Baba Nation - Jesus Words 2:48:46 06 Dj E-Rick & Tactic - Our House Is Your House 2:52:51 07 Dj Delirium & Buzz Fuzz - Immortaly 2:55:56 08 Kool Killers - Back Watcher 2:59:02 09 Dj Jordens - Please Pai 3:01:53 10 Dj Buzz Fuzz - Chemical Overdrive 3:04:55 11 Dj Paul - Code Red 3:07:50 12 Demonax - Hardcore Power 3:10:52 13 Dominion - Natural Born Killer 3:14:30 14 The Controllers - In Control, In Effect 3:17:54 15 Megamix - Intro 3:21:07 16 Naked Steel - Viva La France 3:21:30 17 The New York Terrorist - Short Fuse 3:23:06 18 Dj Weirdo & Dr. Phil Omanski -Young Birds 3:24:37 19 Nitrogen - Bad Boy 3:26:46 20 Chosen Few - Name Of The Dj 3:28:33 21 Dj Rob - Loud And Proud 3:30:35 22 3 Steps Ahead - Gabbers Unite 3.32:21 23 Dj Rob - The Beat Is Flown 3:34:31 24 Rotterdam Terror Corps - You´re Dealing With 3:36:14 25 Trancehistory - Doo-Dey (Dj Dione Remix) 3:37:57 26 3 Steps Ahead - Drop It 3:40:36 27 Miss Groovy - Search And Destroy 3:42:28 28 Carlos Masserati - Get On The Move 3:44:01 29 Rob Gee - Ecstacy You Got What I Need 3:46:21 30 Body Lotion - Happy Is Voor Hobo´s 3:48:32 31 3 Steps Ahaed / Outro - In The Name Of Love 3:49:58

#THUNDERDOME

10 notes · View notes

collecting-stories · 4 years ago

Text

Christmas Eve - ep. 07 - Georgia

Summary: Christmas in King County and a hint at what lies behind the All-American girl persona that you wear.

A/N: Hope you guys are enjoying the rewrite so far!

Georgia Masterlist | The Walking Dead Masterlist

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

Christmas Eve in King County, like everything else, was marked by the church. There was the Christmas Eve midnight service that Hershel led, the living nativity set up in the middle of the square, for the days leading up to Christmas, and, of course, Annette’s Christmas Eve dinner at the farm for all the church congregation to gather together. It was more of an open house and you always ended up ‘working it’ though it was really just a glorified dinner, no need for servers and no one got paid for the shift.

“Are you busy on Thursday?” You asked the question innocently, leaving out the part where Thursday was also Christmas Eve.

“Dunno,” Daryl shrugged, wiping his hands on the rag hanging out of his pocket as he turned to face you. A welcome distraction, having you around had prolonged the work that Daryl could’ve easily completed in two months. He was always stopping and starting when you came over though, more interested in you than in the car. Before he might’ve denied it but after Thanksgiving, he knew it was true, Rick had been right about him having feelings for someone. It wasn’t something he was used to but it was something.

“It’s Christmas Eve.”

“I got a calendar.” He replied, smiling when you pouted at him.

“Well if you’re calendar isn’t too booked maybe you’d come to the dinner Annette’s having at the Greene farm?” You replied, “it’s always a lot of fun.”

“Wouldn’t know, ain’t never been invited to it before.”

“I’m inviting you now.”

“Dunno,” he walked the short distance to the fridge and grabbed a beer out, “I’m not exactly a participating member of the community.”

“Dale will be there,” you offered, skimming over his last sentence. You knew he wasn’t anyone’s favorite person and you’d heard a good deal of Dixon stories from everyone who had heard that you were getting your car fixed by Daryl but that hadn’t dampened your opinion. Just because a bunch of people thought they knew him didn’t mean they did. “I’ll be there.”

“Ya want me ta spend Christmas Eve listening ta yer yammering on?” Daryl asked. You caught the hint of a smile and you knew he wasn’t as opposed to the idea as he was saying.

“Maybe...beats me showing up here to interrupt your night.”

“So you asked him to come to Christmas Eve dinner?” Maggie asked, standing beside the wooden structure meant to represent the manger, white and blue cloths and headdress covering her jeans and thermal shirt. It was chillier than either of you would’ve liked tonight.

“Yeah, thought it’d be nice, he’s never been.” You pointed out. You had been sent over with thermoses of hot chocolate and cups for the manger volunteers, standing a short way off so that you didn’t ‘break the illusion’.

“I highly doubt that Patty sent you over here to chitchat. You girls need to be better stewards of your time and your tongues.” Jacqui called, beckoning Maggie over as she spoke. You frowned, watching as Maggie rejoined the nativity cast. You weren’t a fan of King County’s holiest member of the community or her perception that she was better than everyone else.

Jacqui was a central member of the church, a ward against gossip though she had a tongue for it herself, and a general know-it-all. She had been managing the 7-11 in town since the owner had franchised his small business to them, before you were even born. She even rented the house that sat just to the left. There was a picture of the original business hanging behind the counter at the 7-11, the house with two gas pumps in front of it, an older man and his wife standing on the porch. Somehow all that deemed Jacqui a sort of unspoken ‘elder’ member of the community. A gossip but an important voice in the town. On par with Patricia, Annette, and Hershel though she was younger.

Her voice was important to everyone but you.

“I heard you were in again the other day with that Dixon fella, buying cigarettes.” She mentioned when she came over, claiming to want some hot chocolate.

“The cigarettes were his, I don’t smoke,” you replied, watching the nativity scene. Having a job this Christmas had saved you from having to participate with all the rest of the youth group and you were more than thankful for that. “Besides, he’s working on my car, like I keep saying.”

“I’d said you’re spending a little too much time in his company. Might not’ve picked up his smoking but you picked up his need for talking-back.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes as you smiled at her, “sorry Miss Jacqui, didn’t mean anything by it, must be the cold getting to me.”

“Must be.”

When she walked away again to reign in Joseph and a Wise Man you capped the rest of the hot chocolate and left it by the church table that was set up for donations. You weren’t lying about the cold, it was nearing forty at night as it got closer to January. Nothing you liked but you made due as long as you weren’t outside for too long. It was only when Patricia made you do ridiculous things like walk hot chocolate across the street to the living nativity that you really had to brave the weather.

“Oh good you’re back, you got a table. I was gonna take his order but he said he didn’t ‘want nothing yet’ figured he might be waiting for ya.” Amy said, bumping her hip against yours as you took your coat off, whispering and glancing over her shoulder to your section as she spoke.

You looked back, biting your lip to stop the smile on your face at the sight of Daryl sitting there reading over the menu. You grabbed your apron from the rack and tied it around your waist, “I got it, thanks.”

“He’s some trouble ya know.” Amy mentioned.

“He’s Just fixing my car.” You replied and even as you said it you knew it sounded like a lie. You walked over to his table, smiling when he looked up at you.

“Heard ya were bringing hot chocolate ta baby Jesus.” He said, grin in place.

“Yea course, haven’t you read that bit in the bible?” You teased. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Your own hot chocolate?”

“Coffee’s fine.”

“What brings you in?” You asked, hovering at the table, thankful for the slow night.

“Figured yer always showing up ta harass me while I work, ain’t fair I don’t give ya the same treatment.” Daryl replied.

You bit your bottom lip, preparing for a comeback when you heard Patricia call your name from behind the counter. She’d come out of the kitchen to see you standing at Daryl’s table, smiling at him like he just hung the stars and she’d almost had a heart attack. Patricia had seen him come in and had known, the moment he sat himself in your section, that he wasn’t moving anytime soon. She’d listened to you tell her the same story over and over again, that Daryl was fixing the jeep and that as soon as he was done so would your seeing him be.

“I only see him to pay him for the job.”

But Patricia wasn’t some naive young kid who you could pull the wool over. She’d been around the block a time or two and knew exactly what kind of temptations you were wading into hanging around Daryl Dixon.

“I’ll be right back with your coffee.” You promised, turning away from him and walking back to the counter. Patricia looked passed you, eyebrow raised in disdain as she watched Daryl fiddle with his laminated menu.

“Are you out of your damn mind?”

“What?” You asked innocently, “I was talking to a customer.”

“I have half a mind to call your mother and tell her you been hanging around Dixon on your off time.” Patricia said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Patty,” you insisted. If she called your parents then it was over. Your car would be in Woodbury, you would be grounded worse than Maggie could imagine, and you’d likely never see Daryl again.

“You watch yourself, you’re in dangerous territory.”

“He’s just fixing-”

“Your car. I heard.” Patricia replied.

“Can you hand me a coffee?” You asked, changing the subject.

She went to the other side of the counter to grab you a cup of coffee for Daryl while you turned back to look over at him. As if on some cue he looked over at you and you smiled. He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck and you caught the faint pink the blossomed over his cheeks.

“One coffee.” Patricia said, setting it down and catching your attention again, “charge him this time.”

“I’ll make sure to get the dollar from him,” you replied, taking the cup and walking back over to Daryl’s table. Patricia shook her head, despite her friendship with your parents and the Greene’s she’d kept plenty of secrets for you and Maggie over the years. She hadn’t told them about Glenn and Maggie dating, she hadn’t told your parents about your tardiness over Thanksgiving or Daryl dropping off the pie plate when you’d claimed you were bringing the apple pie to Tara. She just wasn’t sure if she was doing the right thing not telling them you were falling deeper and deeper into something with Daryl.

It was unspoken knowledge the way Will Dixon treated his kids. While Daryl’s mother hadn’t been some innocent girl getting taken advantage of she had loved her kids, Daryl a little more than Merle probably. She’d never hit them but she never stayed sober passed three in the afternoon and Patricia could still remember the senior Mr. Grimes coming in after the fire burned down the old house telling them about Daryl arriving home in time to see the place ablaze.

Losing his mother, watching his brother leave, enduring years of abuse from his father, Patricia couldn’t help but worry that the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree with Daryl. She’d been watching for any sign of abuse on you but she hadn’t seen any. If anything, you seemed happier than you had been in a while and it was that Patricia relied on to make herself feel better about not telling your parents that you were occupying your time with a Dixon.

“Ya working late?” Daryl asked as you idled by his table.

“I’ve got thirty more minutes then I’m free to trudge home in the cold.” You replied, “I’m going to Maggie’s...we’re setting up the barn tomorrow for the Christmas Eve party.”

“Ya need a ride?”

“Do you mind driving Maggie too?”

He shook his head. Daryl had come to the diner tonight just to see you. Aside from going to Dale’s for work or 7-11 for a pack of smokes he didn’t frequent too many places in King County. He was far from an active member in the community but he’d been turning up more often. The diner for one, the Winter Fest where Otis had spied him at the church table talking to you. He’d come tonight because he definitely wasn’t planning on going to the Christmas Eve party dinner that you had invited him to but he did have a present for you. Stupid, he was sure, but a present nonetheless.

You paged Maggie to tell her to meet you at the diner and finished out the rest of your shift while Daryl drank his coffee, paid, and left to smoke out in the parking lot. He was there, toking on a cigarette, when you exited the diner with your backpack.

“I really don’t like closing. I hate having to clean up.” You confessed as you came out to meet him.

“Shifts a shift.” He shrugged and you rolled your eyes at his words. “Here, ‘fore Maggie comes over and I gotta hear the two a ya bitching about the Nativity or something.”

“You don’t have to drive us.” You replied, taking the box wrapped in newspaper that he had handed you, “is this a present? Did you get me a present?”

“Ain’t nothing special...don’t get so excited.” He said, chewing his thumb as you opened the gift he’d bought. Sitting in the little box was a keychain. A leather strap folded over and fastened onto a thin metal plate that attached it to the key hook. The leather was embroidered with clumsy little flowers in yellow with green leaves.

“This is so pretty.” You smiled at Daryl, holding the keychain close as you gave him a one-armed hug.

Daryl tensed and pulled away, huffing as he tried to appear indifferent about the keychain, he’d made himself, “none a that, it ain’t nothing expensive. Just thought ya’d like it.”

“I love it, thank you.”

“I’m here, I’m here.” Maggie’s voice cut through your conversation as she came around the side of the truck, brushing out her hair from being pinned back in Mary’s head covering. Daryl dropped his cigarette and stubbed it out with his boot to distract himself from the blush that had started warming his cheeks when you hugged him. “Hi Daryl.” Maggie greeted.

“Hey,” he nodded to her before heading around to the driver’s side of the truck. You climbed in first, taking the middle seat, while Maggie climbed in second. You slipped the leather keychain back into the box and held it on your lap as Daryl pulled out of the diner with the two of you, heading toward Hershel’s farm.

The ride was quiet, a lull of conversation as Maggie complained about Jacqui and the other youth group kids that had been roped into the nativity. You stayed quiet, knee pressed against Daryl’s and hands gripping present he had given you, unable to contain the smile on your face. The truck drove the dirt path up to the farm and Daryl cut the engine, Maggie already opening the door and slipping out.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“No problem.” Daryl replied, huffing out smoke as you slide across the seat, suddenly cold from the loss of touch. He was gripping the steering wheel with one hand as he watched you get out of the truck, lingering in the door like you always did.

“I do have a present for you, by the way.” You mentioned, spying the newspaper wrapping crumpled on the floor of the truck.

“Ya don’t have ta waster yer money.”

“Too late.” You teased. You met his eyes and your smile widened. On the other side of the truck you could hear the front door clatter open, the familiar squeak of the springs on the screen and footsteps bounding down as Beth ran across the headlights to engulf you in a hug.

“I missed you!”

“Hi Beth, I missed you too!”

Still holding your waist she caught sight of Daryl for the first time and twisted, moving her body behind yours and peeking out at him. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Daryl dropped his cigarette into the ashtray in the truck as he nodded his head to her, “yer Beth I take it.”

“I am.”

“I like yer braids.” He mentioned, watching the sweet smile she offered as she moved further out so he could see the blonde french braids clearer.

“Thank you! My mom did them for me so that my hair will be wavy tomorrow for Christmas Eve.”

“I’m sure it’ll look beautiful.”

She giggled and you bit your lip as your eyes met his. “I’d better get inside, thanks for the ride.”

“Sure thing, see ya ‘round.”

You walked Beth inside, her gaze wandering back to the pickup as she climbed the porch stairs with you. “Is that your boyfriend?”

“No. Daryl’s not my boyfriend.”

“She wishes.” Maggie teased, waiting at the door for the two of you.

The barn at Christmas was arguably one of your favorite sights in the world. Hershel took great pride in outlining the entire building with lights, he hung a oversized wreath on the side with a large spotlight and the whole thing felt like you were walking into a Hallmark movie or a Thomas Kincaide mural. Georgia didn’t a lot of real winter weather but the barn made you feel like you were in some New England town.

“I was sorry to hear your dad couldn’t make it.” Jacqui came up behind you, her voice returning you to the reality of the evening. Hershel’s barn decorated at Christmas was your favorite but the people who filled it weren’t.

“Yeah, he wishes he could be.” You shrugged. “Working.”

“That’s what your mom said. At least he’s a good worker right? Must be where you get it from.”

Just passed Jacqui you could see your mom talking to Annette. Her eyes met yours and she straightened up, pointing to her mouth and indicating for you to smile. You straightened your back and offered Jacqui a closed lip smile before answering her, “yeah. Must be.”

When Jacqui left to talk to another church member your mom made a quick beeline for you, wrapping her hand around your arm and guiding you outside, away from the party. “What did Jacqui want?”

“She was just asking about dad-”

“What did you say?”

“I said he was at work. God, mom we went over this in the car...I’m not stupid.” You crossed your arms in front of you, looking away from her.

“You didn’t say anything to Maggie?”

“No.”

“Hey!” She grabbed at your jaw to make you look at her, nails scratching against your cheek, “look at me. Did you tell Maggie?”

“No. I didn’t say anything to anyone mom.” You replied, pulling away from her and stepping back, “can I go back inside or did you want to assault me some more?”

“For Gods sake stop being so dramatic.”

“Dramatic? You dragged me out here to ask if I told some random person that my dad is in rehab for the billionth ti-”

“Keep your voice down!” She snapped, “you want everyone to hear you?”

“Sorry mama.”

She smoothed back your hair, pushing stray pieces away from your face and fixing your headband for you before leading you both back inside for the continuation of the night. Neither of you spoke to each other the rest of the evening. Not in the car on the way to the service at church and not once you’d gotten home. You went in your room to change and listened to her in the kitchen, trying to throw together a lunch as she prepared to work through the holiday. A knock on your bedroom door was the only thing to signify that she was leaving and would likely work the whole of Christmas.

The Greene’s would be confused if you went to theirs too early in the morning and you didn’t want to disturb Daryl any more than you already did by showing up at his. Tara was spending the holiday upstate visiting her sister and seeing her niece. The diner was closed. You opted for going straight to bed once your dress was off and your face was clean…hopefully you’d be lucky and you’d sleep through the holiday.

Taglist: @hopesxxhigh @coffeebooksandfandom @jodiereedus22 @tehfabbooty @thecaptainsgingersnap @of-storms-and-sadness @twdeadfanfic @alwaysadreamingoptimist @mainokutan @sabertooth-potato @qrangr @bucky-barnes-babies @ly--canthrope @daryldixonandfrogs @jaycc7983 @easnuppa @imaginecrushes @tonystarkismyboy @watchmeaspire @harpersmariano @cbarter @onemorebeautifulnightmare @mainokutan @gigilame @sabertooth-potato @enrapturedbythemoon @cathwritestragediesnotsins @siren-queen03

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon au #daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #twd fic #twd fanfiction #twd au #twd fanfic #twd imagine #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fic #the walking dead fanfiction #The Walking Dead AU #the walking dead imagine #georgia series #collecting stories imagine

164 notes · View notes

szamsson · 4 years ago

Note

since we never saw it, could you write the first time sander and milan were introduced to each other in the flatshare? 🥺

Milan was over the moon. The look on Robbe’s face this morning when his boyfriend walked back into the kitchen, after Robbe thought he had left would forever be engrained in Milan’s mind. Of course he still had reservations about the white haired boy, after what Robbe told him last time, and for how devastated and, Milan didn’t say it to Robbe this morning, but fucked out he had seemed when he first entered the kitchen this morning. If the boy hadn’t returned like he did, Milan would be tracking him down and having serious words with him.

After finishing breakfast with Senne, and bidding him farewell dramatically as he left the house, Milan hunkered down on some work he had to do at the kitchen table. And by that he meant procrastinating by watching youtube videos and scrolling aimlessly through facebook. He didn’t even notice the time had flown until his stomach rumbled. He looked up at the clock and saw that it was already 14:45. He got up to make a sandwich or something when he realised that Robbe and Sander hadn’t left Robbe’s room since they entered it at around 9:45. Interesting, Milan thought to himself. He didn’t want to let his mind wander to what they were doing in there, but he hadn’t heard any noise and Robbe was a big boy, he could handle himself. Though Milan still was weary of Sander, having not met him properly only hearing stories through Robbe and Zoe. Just as he pulled ingredients out of the fridge he heard scuffling and giggling in the hallway. He stuck his head out just in time to see Robbe mauling Sanders mouth as Sander struggled to put on his jacket.

“Morning boys.” He said with a smile, laughing as they sprung apart, Robbe turning bright red and pulling at the bottom of his t-shirt. Milan noticed that it wasn’t the t shirt Robbe had been wearing this morning, but was in fact the one that Sander had walked into the kitchen wearing. He had a silent “aw” moment in his head before motioning them to come into the kitchen.

“Actually I was just gonna...” Sander trailed off, looking nervous as he gestured to the door.

“Nope, you spent the night in casa Milan last night, that means you have to have lunch with me today! Rules are rules.” Milan replied with mock seriousness.

With a sigh, Sander pulled his jacket off again, Milan recognising one of Robbe’s t shirts pulled tightly across his chest as he walked into the kitchen, Robbe trailing behind him looking nervous.

Milan finally had a moment to really look at Sander. He was a good looking kid. His tan skin and dark eye brows and direct contract from his snow white hair. With bright green eyes and a lithe, tall body. Milan gave Robbe a look of “good job,” and Robbe simply rolled his eyes as he sat in the chair next to Sander, pulling it closer so that they were touching.

Milan sat down opposite them and gave Robbe a look. Robbe finally gave in and said quickly, “Sander Milan, Milan Sander,” gesturing to them.

Milan made an exaggerated “Oh” sound reaching out a hand. “So this is Sander, who I’ve heard so much about.”

Robbe went red and shot him a look when Sander smirked down at him.

“Not that much, you may have come up once or twice,” Robbe mumbled, and Milan just about melted when Sander lent down and gave him a soft kiss on the side of his jaw.

“Left the girlfriend yet?” Milan knew this question would cause waves but he needed to make sure Robbe wasn’t getting played again.

“Milan!” Robbe said, angry and a little taken aback. Sander just looked guilty and embarrassed.

“You heard about that..” Sander trailed off looking down at the table.

“Well yeah when my baby gay in training all of a sudden walks around the flat looking heart broken, we tend to notice.” There wasn’t malice necessarily in his voice, more like a tinge of warning and indifference.

“Milan jesus, it’s none of your business.” Robbe said shaking his head and hanging his forehead in his hands.

“No, no,” Sander soothed, pulling Robbe’s hands away from his face and holding them. He then directed his face to Milan and squared his shoulders. “It’s over. It was always over, ever since the first day I met him. I was just a coward, but I’m not now. Thank you for being here for him, it makes me happier than you know, him having someone who cares so much, and I’m sorry, to both of you, but I’m going to make up for it.” Although the speech was originally directed at Milan, the last sentence was directed at Robbe as the two boys stared into each others eyes. Milan felt like he was intruding on a private moment and cleared his throat to try and disperse the intimate moment whilst he was still in the room.

“Well, in that case, welcome to our little makeshift family Sander,” the two older boys smiled at each other and a hint of a smile played at Robbe’s lips as he rolled his eyes again.

“So anyway,” Milan started a cheeky grin starting to play at his lips and he saw Robbe tense, sensing he wasn’t going to like the next line of questioning. “You boys have been in that room a while, anything interesting go on this morning?” He said innocently.

Robbe just about jumped out of his seat, “Milan!” He said incredulous as Sander just chuckled. Okay Milan liked Sander, how easy going he was. Such a great ying and yang to Robbe’s nervous and bashful energy.

“I had a good time” Sander said cheekily.

“Sander!” Robbe said, elbowing him in the ribs.

“I’m just making sure you’re...satisfied in your new relationship Robbe” He liked that himself and Sander were starting this playful teaming up on Robbe. And it was cute how red Robbe’s cheeks were getting.

“I am, are you baby?” Sander said just as innocently and Robbe mumbled oh god as he flopped down on the table head first and all they could make out was a grumbled ‘this is not happening’ as they all dissolved into laughter.

#wtfock #wtfam #myfics #sobbe

29 notes · View notes

natromanxoff · 4 years ago

Text

Queen live at Capital Centre in Landover, MD, USA - November 29, 1977

(x)

A fan filmed the first couple minutes of the show on a silent Super 8 camera, but he was caught by a security guard and the film was confiscated.

Another fan recalls the band took a 30 minute break in the middle of the show, and started the second half of the show with Tie Your Mother Down. He also says they performed both Spread Your Wings and It's Late.

Here is a review of the show from the next day's Washington Post. It reveals that the band have swapped Keep Yourself Alive with Now I'm Here. The former now follows Bohemian Rhapsody in the setlist, as it had earlier in the year.

There is a great story on Brian May's website by Tracy Chevalier, who attended the show as a youngster:

It started with a champagne toast and ended with a limo pulling away into the night. In between these two gestures symbolising glamour and sophistication, I lost my virginity. Not in the technical sense (that would take another few years), but in other ways. At my first ever rock concert — going with four friends to see Queen at the Capital Centre in November 1977 — I got an eye-opening peek at elements of the adult world, with its power and its limitations, its glittering artifice and dirty reality, and it demonstrated how little I knew and how much I had yet to learn about life.

I was ripe for it; overdue, really. I had turned 15 the month before the concert, and though people thought I looked older than I was, I was remarkably naive and unworldly at that age. Despite a few character-building events in my childhood — the death of my mother when I was almost 8, the experience of being a minority in DC public schools — I was so unsophisticated, so unaware of the world, that I didn’t even realise Queen was an English band until the lead singer Freddie Mercury appeared in a tight white catsuit on stage at the Capital Centre, raised a glass of champagne at 18,000 screaming fans, and toasted us with “Good evening, Washington” in a fruity English accent. I was stunned. Then I started screaming.

I had been a Queen fan for a couple of years by then. A Night at the Opera was the first LP I bought, and I could sing every word of every song. I don’t remember how I was introduced to Queen — though I do remember hearing their biggest hit, Bohemian Rhapsody, on the radio and being impressed by its audacity. It sure beat the hell out of the Beatles, Bob Dylan and Neil Young, which had been my older sister’s staple music diet. By 14, I was writing Queen lyrics on the desk where I sat for algebra class, swapping them back and forth with a boy I had a crush on, and daydreaming of guitarist Brian May kissing me.

The concert was part of Queen’s News of the World tour. While not a great album, especially after the double whammy of A Night at the Opera and its follow-up, A Day at the Races, it did produce two of their best-known songs, We Will Rock You and We are the Champions, which drop-kicked them firmly into stadium anthem territory. Appropriately, the concert began with the lights going down and the primitive, effective, impossible-not-to-join-in-with BOOM- BOOM-CHI, BOOM-BOOM-CHI, BOOM-BOOM-CHI intro to We Will Rock You rolling over the audience. Everyone immediately jumped up out of their seats and began to stomp and clap along. I, too, stood and stomped and clapped, watching in awe as people began flicking their Bic lighters, a gesture I had never seen before. What, were they going to set light to something? I had tried not to act surprised earlier when people nearby started smoking grass in public, but now was there going to be a riot? What other illegal things would go on that night? Then a spotlight picked out Freddie Mercury, who began to sing, “Buddy you’re a boy, make a big noise, playin’ in the street, gonna be a big man someday . . .” and I thought, “Jesus H. Christ, that is the loudest noise I’ve ever heard! Is that legal?” The wall of sound terrified me, and I wanted to cover my ears, but I didn’t dare, as it would have been a very uncool thing to do. I think I looked around for the exit, wondering how many people I would have to climb over to escape the sound. It was just so goddamned loud — exhilarating, yes, but painful, too, dangerous and overwhelming. I wavered between loving it and hating it, but knew it would be uncool to hate it, so I’d better try to love it.

Towards the end of the song the single note of an electric guitar began to hum louder and louder under the chorus we were all singing and shouting, and Brian May stepped into the light to add his distinctive sound, ending We Will Rock You with low, long-sustain, three-part harmony chords, overlaid with a high melody he made fuzzy and metallic by using a coin as a guitar pick. I adored Brian May. He was the reserved, straight guy (literally) to Freddie Mercury’s camp high jinks — tall, dark, good-looking, with long curly hair and a melancholy pensiveness that made every teenage girl want to comfort him. At this concert he was wearing a silvery white jacket with long, pleated wing sleeves; that combined with his mop of curls should have made him look effeminate, but instead he was deeply sexy.

I loved Freddie, too, for his outrageous antics, his riskiness, his joy at performing and glorious indifference to how ridiculous he looked wearing glittery leotard jumpsuits, eyeliner and a mullet, prancing and strutting and posing, twitching his hips, smacking his lips and otherwise hamming it up. But even without being conscious of Freddie’s sexual preference — I hadn’t yet met anyone who was openly gay — I instinctively sensed he was not to be lusted after. For all his extrovert, welcoming stage presence, he was clearly playing a part, which served to hold us at arm’s length; whereas Brian May’s taciturn moodiness was clearly himself served up raw.

Thank God for Freddie, though. Without him, no one would have moved on stage: Brian May was not a dancer, John Deacon, in time-honoured bassist tradition, stood solidly in one place throughout, and Roger Taylor was trapped by his drum kit.

To set us at our ease, after We Will Rock You Freddie toasted us with a glass of champagne — “Moët et Chandon, of course,” after the reference in the hit Killer Queen. My friends and I heard this and screamed and clutched one another. He mentioned Moët et Chandon! That was our champagne! He was acknowledging us! I swear he made eye contact with me, 200 yards away and over the heads of thousands.

For we had done what we thought was the most original and extravagant gesture (for 15-year-olds) a fan could make: we had sent a bottle of champagne backstage. We’d pooled our money and gotten an older sister to buy it for us — the same sister who had been obliged to drive us all the way to the Capital Centre, smirking at our overexcited fandom. We’d even made our way to the stage door down a loading dock at the back of the arena and reluctantly handed over the precious bottle to a bored roadie, who said he would take it to the band. We’d had our doubts about his reliability, and his jadedness had dampened our enthusiasm a bit: had we really blown all that money — $20, which in those days meant 20 hours of babysitting — to have some unshaven jerk with a beer belly swill the precious liquid? But clearly the roadie had pulled through for us, for there was our champagne in Freddie Mercury’s hand, and he was referring to Moët et Chandon in his pretty cabinet, the lyrics we had so cleverly quoted in the note we sent along with the bottle. We were sure we — among the many thousands — had managed to get through to the band.

If we had bothered to look around rather than feast our eyes on Brian and Freddie (I’m afraid John Deacon and Roger Taylor never got a look-in from me), we probably would have seen other clusters of fans also screaming and clutching one another during Freddie’s toast. But we didn’t look around or harbour doubts, or we ignored them. It was only much later that I allowed myself to consider the veritable champagne lake that must have existed backstage at every Queen concert. Tip to rock stars: want a free truckload of champagne wherever you go? Sing a song that mentions some — preferably name-checking a more expensive brand to ensure better quality — and watch it pour in backstage every night from adoring fans. There must have been a hundred bottles from fans back there, not counting the stash the band may well have brought with them in case Portland or Houston or Detroit weren’t so generous. No wonder that roadie looked so bored — he’d probably been put on champagne duty that night.

Freddie’s toast worked its magic, though, giving me the connection I needed to negotiate a place within the strangeness of the concertgoing experience itself: the weird, scary power of a crowd; the mixture of exhilaration and embarrassment at collective participation; the physical discomfort of standing for two hours when there’s a perfectly comfortable seat behind you. It is one of those tricky, unresolved tensions at concerts: are we there to listen to the music or actively respond to it, participate as a group or answer our needs as individuals? It’s an issue I’ve never entirely resolved — from Queen onwards I have spent concerts going in and out of myself, losing myself to the music and spectacle one minute, the next minute overly conscious of myself clapping or singing or screaming, and wondering why concerts have to be such an uncomfortable physical ordeal.

I was taken aback by the sound of Queen’s music live: not just the volume, but the familiarity and also the strange rawness of the songs. Studio albums have all the mistakes airbrushed out, the layers added in, the balance between players carefully calibrated, like clever dialogue in a play without the awkward pauses and unfinished conversations you get in real life. Queen albums were highly produced, multi-layered affairs. Live, the music was necessarily stripped of a lot of the choral mixing, more raucous, simpler and much messier.

The band wisely didn’t dare attempt to reproduce in its entirety the long, baroque confection that is Bohemian Rhapsody. For the infamous operatic middle section, the band members left the stage as the studio recording played. Freddie and Brian then changed costume, and, at the word “Beelzebub”, all four men popped out of a door in the stage floor and joined live again for the heavy metal section, fireworks going off, dry ice pouring out, everyone going berserk, me in tears of excitement. It was one of the best live moments I’ve ever witnessed. Indeed, I was spoiled by seeing Queen play live before anyone else; for sheer exuberant theatricality, no one else has come close.

The concert ended with an instrumental version of God Save the Queen and once more the flicking of the Bics, which, no longer the virgin concertgoer, I understood now as a gesture of tribute. My friends and I weren’t finished, though. Emboldened by Freddie’s toast, we decided to go to the stage entrance again and say hello. I still choke with embarrassment when I think of it. When we got there, a black limousine was pulling away, our heroes and their entourage inside, and we were left with the detritus: older, dolled-up, hard-bitten groupies who had followed the band around and not made this night’s cut. I stared at one, at her long, bleach-blond hair, her miniskirt, her bright red lipstick. She glared at me briefly; then her face went slack as she dismissed the idea of me being any sort of competition. In fact, I had not really taken in that there was a competition, that the girls (and I?) were here to spread our wares and catch the attention of one of the men, and then . . . And then? I hadn’t thought it through at all. I wouldn’t have known what to do with such a man as Brian May if he even so much as looked at me. All I knew was that I was way, way out of my depth, that even if I had eluded the roadie minding the door, there was no way I was ever going to get past a woman like this.

The contrast between the sparkling theatricality of the concert and the gritty reality of the backstage, with its dirty concrete, anonymous faces and unfulfilled dreams turned my stomach, and almost ruined the night. I wished I hadn’t seen it, because it reminded me that the show was a fantasy, while it was my aching feet and the roadies’ boredom and the groupies’ hard desperation that constituted real life. As I stood watching the limo pull away and the unsexy women stand about, licking their wounds, looking for a ride to the next city and another chance, I felt as if a door had been kicked open a crack on to a world I knew nothing about: the seamy underbelly of the concertgoing experience, a mix of sex and power and exploitation, of cigarettes and poorly applied make-up and long, cold nights waiting to be noticed and defining yourself by someone else’s attention. If that was grown-up life, I didn’t want to know about it. I wanted the champagne toast, but not the limo. Not yet.

Fan Stories

“I had just turned 16 a few weeks earlier. I was absolutely 100% in love with Queen (since age 13 when first hearing Killer Queen on the radio) and therefore could hardly believe my sister's friend, who worked with her at the Roy Rogers restaurant at the mall, who said she knew Freddie Mercury's girlfriend, Mary, and that she was going to get a backstage pass and would try to get one for us as well. Well, just before the concert she met my sister at a pre-arranged point (inside the venue) and said that she was unable to get us the backstage passes. You can imagine my disappointment and my thinking at this point that this girl was not telling the truth about knowing Freddie's girlfriend (it seemed too good to be true to me to begin with). Then after the concert, which was great of course, we were depressed (my sister and I - but especially me) at not getting to meet them, so we decided to wait for their limo to come out of the underground parking area at the Capital Centre. When it emerged we got so excited we decided to sprint to our big blue station wagon and follow them. With my learner's permit only, I followed them at probably over 80 miles per hour - I remember it being the fastest I had ever driven but I was determined not to lose them - to a restaurant somewhere in DC. At that age, I didn't have my bearings around the city. We didn't want to freak them out so I think we just watched them go inside from our car. Then we ended up waiting outside in the cold air for I think around 2 hours - anyway - enough to turn my nose red and make my lips and toes numb. We weren't allowed in the restaurant - and there was a bouncer from Liverpool out front that prevented us from even going in the lobby to warm up. At one point Roger came down the stairs into the lobby and I smiled at him and he smiled back and started over to the door - but was stopped by another man who grabbed his arm. So then he just continued downstairs to the bathroom, and ignored us when he went back up the stairs. When they finally emerged from the restaurant, I was frozen in more ways than just the temp. Brian said, "It's a bit cold out here". One of them (I don't know who because I think I was in shock) said, "So, were you at the concert?" And we said yes. My friend who was hardly a Queen fan grabbed the attention for herself by shouting "That was the best concert I've ever seen!" or some such thing. I was so embarrassed not being able to think of anything to say in my stunned condition. Freddie looked at me briefly then looked over at my sister. He nodded at my sister but he never stopped walking to the limo. Brian walked over to me and said something like, "Did you enjoy the concert?" and I think I mumbled something like, "Yes. It was fantastic." Then all I could think to say was "Can I have your autograph?" He said "Sure" and ended up giving me the autograph and his pen. So I had to tap him on the arm to get his attention to give him his pen back. "Here's your pen." Can you imagine - here I am meeting my idols and all I can say is this? This all happened within about 20 or 30 seconds it seemed, and they all got into the limo quickly - they seemed pretty tired. I can't remember if they had one or two limos. All four of the members were there and I think a couple of other men - probably manager and driver(s). Freddie didn't say anything, just acknowledged us without a smile and got into the limo. John did the same. I remember thinking Brian was pretty tall. I stood very close to him. I am almost 5 foot 9 and he towered above me it seemed. Of course the hair probably added several inches! The best part of the story I guess is that my sister's friend, the one who knew Mary, said that when the band got back to the hotel they said there were some "nice working girls" waiting outside the restaurant. I guess they thought we were older - we were only 16 and 17 and still in high school of course. We were dressed very conservatively and with long coats.

My sister's co-worker said that she was good friends with Mary, because their families had been neighbors, and so was happy to get to visit with her. Also she said she thought that Freddie was the nicest member of the group, but very shy.” - Donna13

#queen #queen band #roger taylor #freddie mercury #brian may #john deacon #queen concerts

22 notes · View notes

doing-all-write · 5 years ago

Text

don’t be a baby

Pairing: Billy x Reader

Summary: Reader is a nurse who’s brother falls into the Sky Walker crowd. After he gets injured, Billy takes it upon himself to look after Reader’s brother and calm Reader’s nerves as they get ready for their next job. But when the job goes awry and Reader can’t keep Billy safe, how does she cope?

Word Count: 11K

Warnings: Smut (only 18+ interact please!), swearing, blood and softness bc we love two idiots pining over each other but refusing to acknowledge their feelings for each other!!

A/N: I wrote this in a caffeine fueled burst of inspiration after talking to @mrhoemazzello about how much of a baby Billy would be when he gets injured and you have to patch him up and it made me so soft and shoutout to @itsabenthing for helping me flesh out this idea and for always being such a great cheerleader 💖but this bad boy is DEFINITELY going to be a two parter so keep an eye out part two coming soon!

Also the first part of this story takes place before the events of 6Underground and the job they’re planning and go on is the one in the movie just to give everyone some context.

💖💖As always likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated 💖💖

There was a thump at the window.

She ignored it. It was close to midnight and the idea that someone could be knocking on her (three stories high) window at this time seemed ludicrous. She groaned, shifting in the chair she had curled up in hours ago, reaching out for the sweet release of unconsciousness to claim her before her anxiety kept her up.

She knew Billy was most likely gone. She didn't want to admit it to herself but the relentless loop in her head was a broken record of he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone.

There was still a part of her that hoped Billy had gotten away unscathed. She had seen him in action, she knew what he was capable of and she sent out a wish that Billy would come running into her apartment like the day he came running into the hospital.

~~~

She had been working in the Emergency Room, taking over a fellow nurses night rotations in exchange for a few extra days off, when a man had limped in, blue eyes frantic, blonde hair damp and smashed to his forehead, carrying what looked like a dummy in a hoodie, both of them covered in dried blood.

She raced around the desk to them, looping the arm of the prone man around her shoulders as she helped steer them to the nearest room. The blonde kept babbling on about how the man between them had hurt himself while they wrestled the man into a bed. Once the unconscious man was laying down, she pulled back the hood obscuring his face and felt her soul leave her body.

Her brother's face was the one staring back at her.

Now is not the time. Pull it together. You know what to do. Her Nurse Brain kicked in and she shoved the blonde to the side as she hastily started taking care of her brother. Once he had been stabilized and diagnosed with nothing more than a nasty bump on the head, a broken ankle and a badly bloodied nose, she had shoved the shadow who had been following her around into the hallway, crowding him into the supply closet and demanding answers.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Oh, careful there, love. You keep talking dirty to me like that and I'll fall in love with you."

"Why the fuck were you with my brother?"

"Taking him out on a date because he spoke to me with the same dirty mouth you both share apparently."

He was obstinate, shifting between smart ass answers and flirting as she tried to get any scrap of information from him. She finally hit her limit and spat out, "He's my fucking brother and if you don't tell me what happened, I'll assume it was you and have you thrown in jail. I don't give a fuck about you," She had jabbed a finger into his chest and he winced, "but I do give a fuck about my family."

Her Nurse Brain activated again when she saw him wince. Eyes zipping over him, assessing, she took in his bloodied face and hands. "Unzip your hoodie."

"Interesting. I'd always heard that angry sex was the best. Can't believe I'm gonna find out if that's true in this supply closet."

Rolling her eyes, she'd batted his hands away as he tried to prevent her from unzipping his hoodie. Fixing him with her if you don't let me do my fucking job I'll kill you and make it look like an accident stare, he had held his hands up in surrender.

Metallic ticks were the only noise as she pulled the zipper down, revealing the red tank top underneath.

"Wait, was this originally white?"

A huff of breath was the only answer she received before she pulled him back into the room with her brother, patching him up while she kept up a running commentary of grumbling about how he had endangered not only her own brother but also himself.

"I mean, what kind of stupid, reckless, idiot would do something like that! Jesus, you see one too many Marvel movies and think, 'hmm, that looks easy. I can do that too!' I mean honestly."

Her monologue was interrupted by the feel of a rough palm grasping her forearm. It seemed like trying to get the next words out were more painful than sustaining the injuries he had already taken that night, "I was protecting him. He works with our crew well and I told him not to come with us but he insisted. Said he needed these jobs so he could help his little sister pay off her student loans."

That had shut her up.

~~~

He didn't remember falling asleep but he stirred as he felt his arm being moved.

"It's okay, it's just me."

"I'm sorry, I don't know a 'me'. I only know the hard ass nurse who I had incredible sexual chemistry with." He heard her huff out a breath, could almost hear her eyes rolling as well. Her fingers were gentle as she made sure the IV drip in his arm was still firmly in place. She saw his lips quirk and rolled her eyes, again, "Go back to sleep. I like you more when you're unconscious."

"Great bedside manner you have there, sweetheart. You got a name?"

There was silence, then, "It's (Y/N)."

He sighed, "Well, (Y/N), it's nice to meet you. I'm Billy, and that guy in the opposite bed? That's Mark. Though I'm assuming you two already know each other since you're related and all."

"If you weren't in a hospital bed, I'd smack you."

"There's that bedside manner that keeps the patients coming back."

~~~

Billy didn't remember when he drifted off again but when he came to, the light on the other side of his eyelids was the dull yellow of the beginning rays of sunlight welcoming another morning. Eyelids fluttering open, Billy had seen her, curled up in a hospital chair right by Mark's bed, hand cupping her brother's as their chests rose and fell in tandem. Feeling like he was encroaching on a private moment, he closed his eyes again, praying that the tear he felt running down his cheek would dry before either of them would wake up.

~~~

"Hey. (Y/N). Wake up. C'mon. I've got him from here, go home and shower. Grab some food."

Her eyelids flickered open and a groan came flying out of her mouth as she slowly started rolling her neck around. As she did so, she couldn't help her eyes from straying to the bed across the room. But it was empty.

~~~

Her brother had been discharged the next day and she'd been keeping a close eye on him since. A few days later, she kicked open the door of his apartment, yelling out a greeting as she tried to balance the two large tote bags of food, games and movies she had brought over to help keep him entertained and fed as he healed up.

"I know you're a purist when it comes to Star Trek but I brought over the reboots because one, Chris Pine is very easy on the eyes and two, Star Trek is Star Trek I mean, as long as someone says 'live long and prosper' you're good, right?"

Her voice trailed off as she padded into his living room only to be met with four pairs of eyes staring back at her. Everyone, including her brother, was wearing black athletic clothes making them look a bit like a goth gymnastics team, she felt like a toddler amongst them in her over-sized sweater and leggings.

Her eyes sought out her brother's in hopes he would explain. Mark's eyes pleaded with her to be understanding and it wasn't until she heard someone clear their throat that she realized she recognized the blue eyes staring back at her,

"I'll, uh, I'll just come help you unpack those bags. Okay, love?" The steel cutting along the edge of his words gave her no time to argue as she felt Billy's large hand pressing into her lower back as he shoved her into the kitchen.

Tripping over her feet, she flung the Star Trek DVD back onto the counter as she rounded on Billy.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" the words were pulverized through her clenched teeth. Her hands curled into fists to prevent them from shaking. She was terrified that these people were back in her brother's life, and only a few days after he had left the hospital because of their recklessness.

"It's so lovely to see you too! I missed you and your warm bedside manner so much darling." He snarled back as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Now is not the time. Last time you showed up in my life you almost got my brother killed. You better explain yourself now or I'm grabbing the broom and beating everyone in that room out the door and then breaking the broom over your head personally."

Blue eyes widened till she could see the whites all the way around them, "How are you allowed to take care of people? You should be locked up by the pigs not me." He swiveled around, grabbing a beer from the fridge and popping the top off by putting the lid of the bottle against the rim of the counter and hitting it with the heel of his hand.

Peering out of the corner of his eye he saw her eyes widen, a flush building in her cheeks. She hated how that simple action had sent a flash of warmth through her.

Smirking, he turned back to her, bringing the bottle to his lips, taking a long sip as she shook herself from thinking about what other things Billy could do with his hands.

So maybe she had noticed how handsome he was after he had fallen asleep in the hospital. She was only human.

"While I'm so glad you're enjoying my brothers hospitality, maybe you could dignify me with an answer?" She knew the sarcasm dripping from every word was poisonous but she couldn't help herself. Just because she had seen dried tear tracks on Billy's face when she had woken up to check on him in the cool dawn morning and, alright, maybe she had checked the medical records in the hospital for information on him ("It's like Facebook stalking!" her voice rising as she quickly tried to close his records after her co-worker called her out on it.) and maybe her heart had twisted in on itself when she woke up the next morning and he was gone and maybe she had spent a few thousand hours thinking about him and wondering if she would ever see him again didn't mean she wanted him in her life.

Right?

Sighing, Billy leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms as the bottle dangled between two long fingers, "We're planning another job and we asked your brother to do surveillance. All he'll be doing is sitting on that couch," he closed one eye, pointing towards the sofa Mark was currently residing at, "watching security cameras and making sure none of us get caught and warning us of any potential baddies around the corner. It's easy, it's harmless and you could even be sitting next to him babysitting if you're really that concerned about my safety."

Rolling her eyes, she stepped forward to start unpacking the bags, needing something to do with her hands and eyes. Looking right at Billy was like staring at the sun. She feared looking at him for too long would result in permanent damage from his eyes boring into hers, or that the fluttering in her stomach would get stronger the more she talked to him.

She'd be lying if she said she hadn't seen the group Billy ran with around the city. Walking along, earbuds in, minding her own business, she'd hear a thud, look up and instead of squirrels scampering along the telephone wires, it would be people. Executing flips, yelling, jeering, she'd watch in awe while Nurse Brain would be calculating what kind of injuries they'd sustain and how bad said injuries would be if they fell, but they never did.

They looked more comfortable walking in the sky than on the ground. They were flying. Confident. So sure that there would be something there to catch them. She had started calling them "Sky Walkers."

Every time she saw them from then on, she always had an ache in her heart for the rest of the day. She craved the security and confidence they had. She'd looked down at her feet encased in Nike's, cursing them for staying ground to the tiled floor of the hospital.

"All I know is, last time my brother got mixed up with you guys, he showed up at my hospital, bloody and unconscious." Her shoulders hunched forward as anger drained from her body thinking about how frightened she had been. "Can you blame me for being scared?"

This last sentence was almost missed by Billy. But seeing her look so defeated, Billy's heartstrings tugged. Mark talked about his sister a lot. It was clear they took care of each other. He had always wondered what it would have been like to have that consistency.

Placing Tupperware on the kitchen table, the silence stretched out as Billy sized her up. Finally, her eyes rose, meeting his underneath the harsh fluorescent light. The eyes staring into hers were calculating but not cold. They weren't the eyes of a doctor, sizing up a patient and only seeing a maze of veins, arteries and organs that with the right snip or stitch could be fixed. His was a gaze that peeled back the layers of skin and bone, seeing right into the most vulnerable parts of yourself.

"You've noticed that your loans are almost entirely paid off. Haven't you." It wasn't a question. It was a statement. Billy had been the one to walk Mark through the steps to help pay off her loans without it being suspicious. He had heard her on the other end of the line when she called to tell Mark how much her loans had gone down. The voice on the other end high-pitched, tinny, but the love between them so palpable he had to leave the room.

Her eyes darted down as she busied herself carrying Tupperware over to the fridge, her hair a curtain over her profile as she leaned down to place it in the fridge. "He loves you, you know. A lot. That's the only reason he took the gig." He took a sip of beer, watching her frame, way too still to not be listening, peering into the fridge but not seeing anything. "He's friends with Jean, the mastermind, out there and when he complained about how unfair it was of you to have so many loans, Jean offered him a cut of the benefits if he helped us with the job."

She didn't feel the coolness of the fridge air wafting over her, she felt nothing but enormous guilt. She was the reason he had been injured. That he was mixed up in this crowd. She was the reason he was putting himself in harms way and if he died? It would be all her fault.

Billy, chuckled to himself as she was gripped in the throes of an existential crisis, "Jean's a good guy but I think he mainly knew having a nurse in our good graces would be immeasurably helpful."

His eyes widened as she turned to face him, flecks of mascara caught in the tears moving down her face but she didn't seem to notice them streaking down. It seemed like she barely noticed him, "You have to keep an eye on him. Please. If anything happens to him-because of me-I-I don't..." her voice trailed off.

Billy crouched down, cupping her shoulders as he pressed his forehead into hers, "Hey. Hey, love. Love? Look at me, focus on my voice, okay?" He pulled back so he could look into both of her eyes. With enormous effort she pulled herself back to this moment, in her brothers kitchen, crouched on the floor with a Sky Walker. "I'll keep an eye on him. He's one of us now. We look after our own, got it? We always do." She nodded, searching his eyes for any sign of lying but there was none. Just warm, blue skies, promising her that from then on out, everything would be fine.

After their rendezvous in the kitchen, Billy had gone back to the living room to plan while she had splashed cold water on her face and pulled herself together. By the time she slunk out of the kitchen, arms wrapped around herself, everyone was leaving and Billy had his arm around a brunette girl who reeked of sexual experience and danger.

She was pretty sure she reeked of "Christmas Cookie" hand sanitizer and sexual frustration.

Billy caught her eye as he strolled out of the room, winking at her as he walked past.

Her heart caught in her throat at the action but remembered how his girlfriend was someone who flew through the air with enormous ease and she was someone who was locked on the ground.

Patching her brother up came easy to her. She wished it had been the first time she had fixed him up but that would be a lie. She went over to his apartment a few times a week. Sometimes the other Sky Walker's would be there, sometimes not. Most of the time if they were over, they spent their time planning the next big heist. Maps and blueprints covered every available surface and surveillance footage became a comforting background noise as she would prep dinner or check Mark's ankle and help him do physical therapy.

Sometimes it would just be Jean hanging out, playing video games with Mark. The first dinner he joined them for, she found she could barely look at him. The resentment towards him still a solid rock in her stomach.

A few meals later, Jean gently tugged her into the living room after she had gotten Mark set up in bed, "Alright. I know why you won't look at me. Let me have it."

He had sat on the couch for over an hour, hands folded in his lap, nodding as she ripped him a new one, getting out all of her fear and anger. Once she had run out of steam and was standing in front of him, he had taken her hands in his, making the same promise Billy had. That Mark was one of their own now. He would do everything he could to take care of him. The eyes peering back up at her were full of nothing but sincerity.

Glancing down, she sniffled, peering at their hands intertwined, "You have questionable tattoos." Jean barked out a laugh, "You think mine are bad? You should see some of Billy's."

From then on, she looked forward to having the Sky Walker's around. Whenever she entered Mark's apartment in the weeks leading up to the mission, her heart would speed up in anticipation.

Sometimes it would come crashing to the ground when she saw no sign of Billy. Other times, she was positive individuals could see her heart beating through her shirt when her eyes caught his from across the room.

The only downer was, if Billy was there, that usually meant his girlfriend, Cassandra, was there as well.

She had tried, a valiant effort in her opinion, to make nice with her. Most of the time, they were the only girls around. Working to find common ground with Cassandra was proving to be a difficult task, mainly because Cassandra would fix her with a blank stare until she slunk back into the kitchen to restock Mark's fridge.

The last straw for her had been when she had walked into Mark's apartment, yelling hello only to look up and see Cassandra fixing her with a blank stare and sharpening a knife

She quickly found that anyone who carried their own knife sharpening kit was someone she didn't particularly trust. It made her nervous then, that Billy did so much.

But she didn't want to interfere. She didn't want to think about all the lethal ways Cassandra could injure her with that blade if she found out she had meddled in her relationship.

When Billy was there, she could hardly stop the grin that threatened to split her face as she busied herself in the kitchen making food for everyone, jumping every time someone came into the kitchen, waiting for Billy to come in under the guise of getting a beverage but always stopping to chat with her.

Those stolen minutes in the kitchen with Billy were quickly becoming her favorite times.

She hadn't meant to develop a crush on Billy, but, how could she not? Other than the physical reasons, (she had once seen him take his shirt off to try on a new one and she almost dropped a whole bowl of soup into Mark's lap) he was genuine. Ever since he had looked into her eyes and promised to take care of her brother, he had kept that promise.

When plans would change, he'd come into the kitchen and update her. He'd tell her all the different contingency plans they had. And while she knew her brother wasn't going on this mission, she still felt a sense of peace wash over her as he walked her through the plan.

There was one night she asked him, "How did you even get into the Sky Walker stuff?" Coughing on the sip of beer he'd just downed, he made a choking noise, "The what stuff?"

Blushing, she realized she had let slip the private name she had called them ever since she first saw them leaping through the sky, "Umm, Sky Walkers? It's dumb, I know, but I saw you guys months ago leaping over buildings and wires and to me, from the ground, it was like you were walking on the sky, like you had mastered the force and the elements and I've called you that ever since..." her voice trailed off as Billy sat down next to her.

Laying his arms on the table, a smirk played across his lips, "Well, now that I know you're a huge Star Wars nerd, you're even cuter." his eyes dancing with mirth.

Her heart sank at that. She knew Billy didn't feel the same way about her (why would he when he had Cassandra slinking around out there waiting out for him to join her in the sky) but her heart still leaped at the knowledge that he thought she was cute.

His eyes fixed on an unseen spot as he mulled the name over, "I gotta say, I like the name Sky Walkers. Might bring that up to the whole team. Give you full credit and trademark rights of course." He winked and she giggled as she pulled her mug of tea closer.

"Why don't you join us in the living room? You're always welcome. And I have insider intel that when Jean's over, you two hang out like you're best friends. So why don't you want to hang out with me?" He made an exaggerated pouty face at her as she struggled to not lean over and bite his exposed bottom lip.

"Because you annoy me" she said primly as she lifted her mug to her mouth, then before she could stop herself, "and I don't think your girlfriend likes me very much."

The tea was scalding but she forced herself to take a long sip so she wouldn't have to look at Billy's face.

Billy sat there, studying her, she seemed so out of place with the dark clothes that were rotating in and out of Mark's place. They'd all be caught up in planning, then she'd come bursting into the apartment and it was like she was bringing sunshine in with her.

She painted her nails with pink sparkles, she watched romantic comedies, she told him about the little kids she played with in the hospital on her rounds, she laughed easily, she engaged with the other members of the crew, pulling them into her warmth, her goodness. She had patched all of them up at one time or another. The more she got to know the whole crew, the more she relaxed and the more she relaxed, the more Billy found sunshine spilling through her cracks and coaxing him towards her warmth.

But then, Cassandra would lazily lift an eyebrow at him, nod her head and he'd leave with her. He'd known Cassandra since he joined the Sky Walkers. They'd just recently started...well...he wouldn't call it "dating" so much as he and Cassandra would do a job together and then have mind blowing sex after when adrenaline made them both want to explode out of their skins.

He was starting to realize though that he and Cassandra didn't...talk. Not like how Billy talked to (Y/N).

He laid out his hands on the table, looking at his fingers. They were calloused, rough, covered in tattoos. Her hands were soft despite having to wash them a million times a day. ("I use lotion every day, multiple times a day, how do you not own lotion Billy?" He had walked into Mark's apartment the next day only to be met with a bottle of Bath and Body Works hand lotion being thrown at him by Mark. His heart had squeezed in his chest, making it hard for him to breathe.) and her nails were adorned with pink sparkles. His own nails were busted and, he was pretty sure, had dried blood under them.

He had no business thinking the butterflies that erupted in his stomach every time she smiled at him meant anything more than she was cute and he liked cute women. Never mind that if she said Cassandra didn't like her he was on the verge of saying he'd dump her.

"Yeah, well. Cassandra doesn't like too many people. I wouldn't worry about it too much." He slapped his hands on the table pushing himself up. Lifting her eyes from her mug she watched him retreat back into the living room, the muscles of his back moving and shifting as he made his way back to the Sky Walkers, slipping easily onto the arm of the chair Cassandra was lazing in.

She really hated how good they looked next to each other.

She finished her tea, listening to them finalizing plans and making arrangements for the job, which would happen the day after next.

She had been hoping she'd have a shift scheduled at the hospital but no such luck.

Sighing, she stood up to rinse her mug out. In less than 48 hours she would be back here, sitting with Mark, trying to keep herself occupied and to not care too much that Billy was out there and she couldn't do anything to keep him safe.

~~~

The job went awry so quickly.

She didn't know what to make of it. One minute she had been sitting on Mark's sofa, curled up with a book as Mark sat at his desk, surrounded by monitors. Listening to him call out commands, chuckle softly at jokes, the sharp tap of keys as he disconnected security cameras or diverted them away from where the Sky Walkers were prowling.

For a while, she had been standing behind him, watching all of this happen as the group slipped through the halls of a lavish hotel. Tapping Mark's shoulder, in an over exaggerated whisper, she told him to tell the team that she said good luck and that if any of them got injured she "wouldn't patch them up because then they wouldn't learn anything."

Mark rolled his eyes and obliged, reaching a hand down to squeeze (Y/N)'s in a reassuring gesture.

Through Mark's headset, she heard the team giving their thanks, promising her that this job would do away with the rest of her loans and they'd be back to her before she knew it. Billy had looked dead set into the nearest security camera and winked as he promised he'd come back in one piece.

A gasp flew form her parted lips as her brother cleared his throat, reminding Billy to get his ass moving and to stop flirting with his sister.

Then, shit hit the fan.

It started with her hearing Billy's roughly accented voice piercing through Mark's headphones, yelling about the jewels being fakes.

Mark talked him through it, as Jean yelled back at Billy which is when Mark started yelling.

That's when she had heard gunshots.

Everything was a blur after that. She ran to the monitors and thought she was looking at a video game. There were so many men with guns running towards where the Sky Walkers were she assumed it was an army of some sort. She saw the flash of guns discharging and people she knew, people she had come to love, fall to the ground where she hoped like hell they would get back up again.

Part of her wanted to call her hospital, pull some strings and help as many of them as she could but Mark had pulled her into his chest, telling her it was no use.

In the confusion and mayhem she thought she had seen Billy, necklace clamped firmly between his teeth, jumping through a window but she couldn't be sure.

So, she and Mark had to sit and wait. Till Jean came back.

Just Jean.

He explained what had happened as he and Mark sat at the kitchen table, nursing a bottle of whiskey. She had stayed for one drink but the grief didn't feel like one she could share in.

She finally left, as she walked away, each step thudded to the ground while the only refrain that carried her home was billybillybillybillybillybillybilly. It wasn't until she found herself standing outside of her front door that she realized her body had carried her home while her thoughts had been in the sky.

Her body felt heavier, though she knew that a part of her heart had died in Mark's apartment that night and she wasn't sure if it would ever be whole again.

Her body was on autopilot as she stepped into the shower but each drop of water hitting her back felt like a knife.

She knew Cassandra and the rest of the team were there to help him. No matter how she felt about Cassandra personally, she knew she was part of the team. They were there for back up but so many people were in the fray.

So many people gone.

The water had gone cold by the time she stepped out of the shower. Not that she could feel it anyway.

Braiding her hair, she settled down on the chair by her window. It overlooked the fire escape she would lounge on with a glass of wine on nice summer nights.

Tonight it was empty, utilitarian. Only reminding her of how many Billy had fallen through as he tried to get away.

She leaned her head against the window, feeling the glass pushing back against her skull. Easing the dull ache that throbbed within as she closed her eyes.

~~~

That's where she had been when she heard the first thump.

Sleep had been within her grasp when she heard the second thump.

Groggily reaching into her sweatpants pocket, she pulled her phone out and saw it was 3:14 am.

There were no texts or calls from Mark.

She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose, wondering if it was her neighbors making that noise.

The third thump rattled her window causing her to jolt out of her chair.

Slowly, she reached her hand forward, nudging the blinds back, letting her eyes adjust to the nighttime as the lights from street lamps below worked to permeate the darkness that covered the world. That's when she saw the dark lump of something on her fire escape.

Squinting her eyes, her first thought was, why would someone throw their garbage bag onto my fire escape?

Flicking on the lamp she had by the window, it cast an uneven glow over the lump revealing dark clothes and athletics shoes spattered with blood.

The figure raised its head and time slowed down in those moments. The wan light drifting up from below barely illuminated the eyes staring back at her but she'd know the color anywhere. Those blue eyes, the color of her sky, was the only way she knew it was Billy.

The rest of him resembled a man who had scrabbled his way back from hell. His face was covered in scraps and tears. His visage and hands covered with dried blood. There was a wound on his neck that was slowly leaking blood but had started to congeal into a nasty mess.

His hair was matted to his head. His right eye was ringed in the blues and blacks of the beginnings of a nasty black eye. Sweat shined on his face as he blearily took in her face. He did his best to fight the smile breaking over his lips but he was so grateful to see her he barely noticed when his lips cracked even more.

As she opened the window she heard someone panting "thank god thank god thank god" and it took her a minute to realize that the prayer was falling from her lips. She bundled Billy into her apartment, setting him down on the chair by the window, still warm from her body.

She locked the window, drawing her curtains closed and rushed over to the front door, double checking it had been locked as well. For extra security she pushed one of her kitchen chairs underneath the door knob.

Hearing a snort she turned, "You watch too many bad gangster movies as a kid?"

Fighting against the lump in her throat, her voice came out thick as she tried to match his snark, "Yeah, well. You'll thank me later when the bad guys are stopped by my Ikea chair."

He heaved out a sigh that she supposed was as close as he could get to a laugh in his state. Sinking deeper into the chair, hissing as he finally allowed his body to relax. Nurse Brain kicked in as she took stock of his body, where he was holding tension, where he was avoiding putting pressure, assessing how old the cuts were. After a quick run down, she raced to her freezer.

Filling her arms with every bag of frozen veggies she had, she quickly wrapped them in paper towels, briskly walking back over to Billy's form. She watched the rise and fall of his chest, listened to the rattle of every intake, so grateful for each shuttery breath.

The grateful feeling was quickly overcome by anger. This asshole.

This was the second time he had shown up to throw himself at her mercy in a horrific state. She almost wished he were dead. She felt her knees shake, betraying how grateful she was that he was alive and in her apartment.

Instead of telling him all that though, she slapped a bag of frozen peas on his eye.

Yelping, his body curled inward as his hand reached up to catch the bag, pressing the peas back into place, "What the fuck? These are bloody freezing. I barely make it out alive and you're trying to kill me with frost bite from," he pulled the bag back squinting at it, "frozen peas?"

"Oh I'm so sorry that the frozen veggies I slapped on your busted face so you don't swell up like a fucking balloon aren't to your liking. My sincerest apologizes your majesty." She hissed out as she slapped another bag on his side as he let out a grunt.

He pressed a hand to the bag against his side as she mumbled, her fingers dancing over his form as she poked and prodded, trying to feel what the damage was, what she could do for him here and if he needed to get to a hospital.

"Couldn't make this experience a little more pleasant could ya?" He didn't mean to be a dick but in his defense, he had had a hell of a day. The job didn't go at all like they planned, he'd lost friends, Cassandra turned out to be a backstabbing thief, he didn't get the necklace, he'd fallen from the top of a building and then, to really just make the day fucking wild, when he'd come too, some weirdo had offered him the strangest proposition he'd ever heard after pretending he was going to kill Billy.

So, yeah. He was a little grumpy.

"You're lucky I even let your sorry ass into my apartment. How do you even know where I live anyway?"

"I've been having you followed by my top men."

"You asked Mark didn't you."

"Fuck."

Her lips quirked up for a second as she finished rotating his foot around checking for any swelling or broken bones. Standing up she declared, "You don't have anything seriously wrong or broken on you which is a fucking miracle. Just some bad scraps that I can take care of here." She made her way to the hall closet where she kept a first aid kit and other medical accessories. Ever since Mark sliced his hand open one Thanksgiving which had been dubbed the "Bloodiest Thanksgiving Since The Pilgrims Landed" she figured she'd better be stocked.

Billy sank lower into the chair. Leaning his head back he let out a sigh, hearing (Y/N) mumbling to herself, rattling around, he could almost pretend that he had come over under normal circumstances.

Hearing the soft thud of her footfalls, he cracked an eye open as she pulled a stool closer to his face. Looking up at him through her eyelashes, she started pouring something on a cotton ball, "If you thought the frozen peas were bad you're really gonna hate this."

"What could be worse than-" his sentence was cut off by a strangled cry as she pressed the cotton ball onto the scrap by his eye. Slamming his fists on the arms of the chair, he felt his body seize up as he fought to keep control, "Fucking hell (Y/N). Seriously, they should revoke your nurses license."

"You keep disrespecting me like that and I'm just going to dump this whole bottle on you." She snapped at him. Billy pried his eyes open as he took deep breaths. He turned his head to face her, opening his mouth to fire off another comment when he glanced down at her hands and stopped.

She was getting more of the disinfectant on the floor and her legs than she was getting on the cotton ball held in her hand. Her voice managed to be strong and sure but her hands told a different story. One of anxiety, one of worry, one of relief.

"Were you worried about me baby?" His voice was so soft that for a second she wondered if someone else had entered her apartment. Locking eyes with him, she thought about how just hours before, she had been certain she would never see his face again.

Never joke with him again, talk to him, share a quiet moment with him, never learn everything about him, never sit with him at their own kitchen table one day.

She wanted that. She wanted hours and days and months and years of kitchen table talks with Billy. Feeling the relief at having him back with her, she didn't even think about her next actions.

She leaned forward and kissed him...only to pull back immediately, "Oh my god I'm such an idiot. Your lip is so busted, I'm so sorry I shouldn't have done that, that was so dumb and what if I had hurt you even more? That would have been terrible-"

Billy's hand reached up, cupping the back of her head and pulling her into him. Her lips were soft and he bet a hundred bucks that she used chapstick every day. He knew his lips were chapped, cracked and probably coated in dried blood but he didn't care. Feeling her pressed against him helped take away the fear he had been trying to tamp down ever since the maniac in the garage had pretended to kill him.

Finally pulling back he let out a shaky laugh, "Were you really that worried I wouldn't come back to you, love?"

"No, I was worried that you wouldn't help me pay off my loans. Fuck your safety, I needed money." She was trying to get them back to their usual banter but the big gulps of air she was taking betrayed how she was really feeling.

"You were worried about me. You wanted me to be safe and come back to you in one piece. Don't deny it." The smugness of his voice made her smile as she pressed a kiss to his cheek and whispered in his ear, "You ever tell anyone I said this and I'll deny it but, yes."

She pulled away, placing the cotton balls and bottle on the floor, giving herself some time to collect herself as Billy reached his hands toward her, grabbing her own and rubbing his thumbs over the backs of her hands, sending sparks up her arms right into her heart.

Her heart ached for both of them. They both had lost so much today but they were lucky enough to be able to come back to each other. Billy heaved a sigh and looked up at her, "You were right."

"I usually am but what specifically was I right about in this instance?"

"You're a giant pain in my ass. About Cassandra. She wasn't trustworthy. Left me hanging off the edge of a building, stole the necklace and left the rest of the team behind," he brushed a piece of her hair out of the way, letting his fingers linger on her cheek, "should have listened to you."

Blushing, she leaned her cheek into Billy's palm, "Hmm, I could get used to hearing you tell me that." Billy chuckled as she straightened up and fixed him with a glare, "You just have to keep promising me you're going to come back to me in one piece."

Billy's eyes darkened, shifting in the chair as he remembered the deal the man in the room had proposed to him. Being able to go completely off the grid. Everything wiped clean. He would be a ghost.

But being in (Y/N)'s apartment, holding her hands in his, having her smile, kiss and hold him...he wondered if he had made the right decision.

"I'll do my best, darling." He muttered, purposefully not saying promise because he knew, some day soon, he would break that promise and he didn't know if he'd be able to live with himself knowing he had broken her trust.

Placing a soft kiss on his lips, she stroked the side of his face with her thumb. Sniffing she shook her head slightly, "Alright. Quit distracting me, I need to finish patching you up."

He chuckled, "Would it kill you to be nice to me? I mean, we just had an incredibly tender moment and I did have a pretty rough day..." his voice trailed off as he widened his eyes in an attempt to gain sympathy. She scoffed as she grabbed the cotton balls and disinfectant again.

"I suppose falling from the top of a building would kind of ruin your day. Now hold still. And don't be a baby." She dabbed the soaked cotton ball on the scrap on his neck, intertwining her fingers with his as he hissed out a breath. Squeezing his fingers, she murmured apologizes and encouragement, "I'm sorry my love, it's okay. Breathe. You're doing great."

After slapping some band-aids on the worst of the cuts ("What, no Spiderman Band-Aids?") she helped him to the shower, leaving him to wash off the day as she went to her room to find some sweats for him. Luckily, she had nicked plenty of Mark's sweatpants over the years so she laid those and a shirt out for Billy to find when he came into the room from his shower.

Hearing the door open, she looked up only to be met by a shirtless Billy, hair slicked back, chest damp, towel riding low on his hips. She didn't mean for the sharp intake of breath to be so audible but it was worth it when it earned her a smirk from Billy as he crossed over to her.

"Even beat up all to hell, still not a terrible sight, huh?"

Swallowing thickly she just nodded her head in agreement. Not trusting herself to speak she quickly turned and grabbed the clothes she laid out, shoved them into his arms and left, the sound of Billy chuckling following her out into the living room.

Settling onto her couch she fiddled with the end of her braid, contemplating why she had seen anguish flash through Billy's eyes when she made him promise to come back to her in one piece. She had definitely noticed the lack of the word "promise" when Billy answered her request.

The timeline of what happened since he fell didn't make much sense either. If Billy had fallen from the building, then where had he been for so long? There was no way somebody would have ignored a body laying unconscious in the street, especially with cops swarming the building.

"Baby? Hey. I can sleep on the couch. I don't mind."

Jolting out of her thoughts, she blinked as she came back to the present moment, Billy standing over her, "No! You shouldn't be sleeping on a couch. You can sleep in my bed."

"I've been waiting for an invitation to your bed for a long time baby." She flushed as she pushed herself off the couch. Grabbing Billy's hand, they walked back to her bedroom. Settling themselves under the covers she was gripped by a sudden wave of anxiety, should she try to cuddle with him? Would he want space now? Did she want to give him space? He was the one sharing her bed.

The anxiety melted away when she heard a voice in her ear, "Come here, love. I won't bite. Unless you're into that." She giggled she turned her body to face his, nuzzling her face into his chest, breathing in the smell of him as he wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss onto the top of her head.

Stroking her back, they drifted off to sleep. Their breathe synching up as they finally felt safe from the world as they created their own little one in each others arms.

The light streaming into her apartment caused her to stir. Stretching her body out she almost forgot that she had shared a bed with Billy last night. When she remembered, she was gripped with panic when she realized he was no longer there. Leaping from the bed, she raced into her living room, making sure that the door hadn't been busted down and Billy had been taken while she'd been sleeping. She knew it was illogical or she'd have to be the most sound sleeper on the planet but she still exhaled a breath when she saw her door was still locked and the chair underneath it still in place.

"Gotta say, I did sleep better knowing that we were protected by your highly sophisticated security system." She turned at the sound of his deep voice, he was standing at her stove, cooking eggs as he smiled at her, "Did you really think I'd leave you like I did the first time we met?"

Shaking her head she went to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, exhaling as he wrapped one arm around her shoulders, using his other arm to keep stirring the eggs. "Don't scare me like that. I thought you got taken and I'm not Liam Neeson. I have no skills to use to find you." His chest rumbled with laughter, "Well, Liam Neeson isn't as pretty as you but you're crafty. I'd trust you to find me."

Placing a kiss onto his chest, she giggled, "Do you want coffee?" he nodded, "Also, how are you feeling today?"

"Sore. Like I fell from the top of a building and landed on concrete."

"Huh. Interesting. Did you do anything out of the ordinary yesterday?" Faux innocence lacing her voice as she measured out coffee grounds.

"Yeah. I fell from the top of a building and landed on concrete." Was Billy's deadpan response which had her cracking up which made Billy laugh at how hard she was laughing.

They finally pulled themselves together and stared at each other, him smiling, her hiccuping as she wiped at her eyes, "We're some pretty sick fucks for laughing at something like that, huh?"

He shrugged, "Probably. But it feels good to laugh. Especially with you."

After breakfast had been cleared away, Billy had stretched out on the couch, more bags of frozen peas on his various injuries. She came out of the kitchen, taking a moment to enjoy the peace before she broached the inevitable, "So, we should probably see Mark and Jean at some point. They're going to want to know you're okay."

Billy grunted in agreement, tipping his head back to look at her, "Yeah. That's not a bad idea. They're going to be pissed I came to you first before them though."

"I don't think so. I think they're just going to be relieved that you're alive. Plus, I am a nurse. It'd make sense to come to me and not those two chuckle fucks." She padded over to the couch, standing over him. "If you had gone to them first they would have just brought you to me anyway."

"That's true." He gazed up at her before grabbing her hands and tugging her down. Resisting, she giggled, "I don't want to fall on top of you and hurt you more, but I'll lie down next to you if you want."

He nodded eagerly, shifting his body over on the couch to make room for her, she curled up against him. Their legs intertwining as she splayed a hand over his chest, the rise and fall of his chest a balm to her anxiety and helping root her to him.

Inhaling deeply, then instantly regretting it at how it caused his ribcage to feel like it might crack, Billy felt more content here than he ever had in his entire life. He wanted to capture this feeling, bottle it, find a way to make it permanent. Make it stick so he wouldn't have to do what he knew was coming.

Sighing, (Y/N) snuggled closer, and his heart broke at how cruel he was being, how selfish. But he couldn't help it. He had asked for 24 hours and by god if he wouldn't make the most of them.

"Hey." he murmured into her hair, she made a noise in the back of her throat that made his heart skip a beat. He brought two fingers to her chin, tilting her head back so she'd be forced to look at him. A slow grin traveled across her lips as he drank in her face, memorizing every part of it so he'd never forget. He had done it so many times in Mark's apartment in shitty lighting that in good lighting, it was like seeing your favorite painting in person instead of through a computer screen.

Leaning down, he brought his lips to hers. Cupping his cheek with her hand, she kissed him back, relishing in how good it felt to be able to do this instead of just imagining it. Pulling back she smiled, resting her forehead against his.

"What is it, baby?"

"It just...you have no idea how long I've wanted this. And to finally be able to do it...I don't know. It feels really good to have you here, with me. Like this." Widening her eyes she pulled back, "Not like, you being injured but like being with you in this, way." Her voice trailing off when she became bashful at how vulnerable she had just been.

The wave of love, adoration and warmth he felt for her crested over him, causing his eyes to fall closed to keep the tears at bay. He didn't deserve this, he didn't deserve her. But, fuck, he would make the most of this time with her and make sure she knew how much he loved her.

Tilting his head back down, he locked their lips together. She moved her lips against his, memorizing their curves, their slopes, how they fit together. Her hand cupped his cheek, being mindful of his black eye and the various scraps covering the planes of it.

Feeling her hands caress his face with care, Billy became overcome. He was upset, guilt-ridden and worried he had made the wrong decision. Fighting to keep himself in the moment, he deepened the kiss, gripping her waist with an intensity that startled her. She jolted forward, causing Billy to groan when her heat made contact with the bulge that was growing larger by the second.

"Damn baby, we've only been kissing for a minute, quit trying to get into my pants already."

"You wish I was trying to get into your pants." her lips brushed against his with every other word and she could feel him smiling. He nipped at her bottom lip, causing her to gasp which allowed him ample time to connect their lips, exploring her mouth with his tongue. Their hands drifting up and down their sides, exploring as they got more comfortable with each others forms.

Dancing her fingers down his arms, she felt the muscles clenching and unclenching as his hand found her hip and squeezed causing her to moan involuntarily. Smirking, he ran his hand up and over the rise of her hip, trailing his fingers down into the dip of her waist. She snuggled closer to Billy, breathing in coffee, disinfectant and the unmistakable scent that was Billy.

Draping his arm over her waist, he pulled her even closer to him. Feeling his hardening length in his sweatpants she tested the waters by circling her hips against him. Causing a moan to erupt from his mouth and throw his head back in ecstasy.

"Baby, what's the professional nurses opinion of having sex when someone's injured? Asking for myself because if I don't have sex with you tonight I just may toss myself off another building."

Giggling, she ran her fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead so she could look in his eyes, "In a nurses opinion? Probably not. But in (Y/N)'s personal opinion? Who gives a shit I've wanted to fuck you since the first day I saw you."

Locking his eyes onto hers, her breath hitched in her throat at the intensity of his gaze. His normally sky blue eyes were the color before a storm and his hand was locked onto her hip with a strength that she couldn't wait to explore later.

"Then get up here, baby, and fuck me how you've always wanted to."

Swinging her leg over, she found herself straddling Billy, placing her hands on his chest, she felt the large planes of his chest expanding as he took a shaky breath in, his eyes glassy. Flicking her hair back she leaned forward to kiss him deeply, "What baby?"

Shaking his head he cleared his throat, "Nothing. Just, dammit baby. You look like a goddess."

Blushing she bent down to nip at his throat, causing him to buck his hips up, causing his hard length to rub against her clothed cunt causing them both to dissolve into moans. Pushing herself up, she started rocking her hips teasingly along his cock.

Whining in the back of his throat he begged, "Please, love, I don't care, just fuck me. Please."

Shocked at the control she had over this man, she ripped the t shirt she had been wearing over her head, exposing her tits and black underwear she had been wearing. Billy keened and grasped her tits, causing her to push her chest forward, the feel of his calloused palms teasing her nipples caused her eyes to roll into the back of her head.

Billy reached his hands down, shimmying his sweatpants and underwear down far enough so his cock sprang up between them, her mouth watering at how thick it was. Stroking her center through her panties with two fingers he cocked an eyebrow at her, "I can't exactly fuck you through these so they'll have to go. I don't care how sexy they are."

Laughing, she stood up on the couch, resting one hand on the wall as she shimmied the panties down her legs, kneeling back over Billy's exposed length when Billy stopped her, "Wait, hold on a second baby." He teased one finger, then another into her dripping core, pumping in and out slowly as she rocked her hips forward trying to get more of him into her.

Billy slowly dragged them out, popping his fingers into his mouth and holding eye contact with (Y/N) as he sucked his fingers clean, relishing the sweet taste of her, "Okay, baby. I think you're wet enough."

"Damn right I am." She murmured as she sank down onto his hard cock, taking his full length, resting her hands on Billy's strong chest pushing her tits together in the most delicious way Billy had ever seen. His hands found purchase on her hips as she started rocking back and forth, working his length. Feeling his cock stretching her walls in the most amazing way, she tilted her pelvis in that way she knew would have his cock nudging her g-spot, getting her closer to where she wanted to be, which was total ecstasy with Billy.

Billy's eyes screwed closed as she found her rhythm and worked his cock, trying to reach her orgasm. His whole body felt like an exposed fuse, bursting with energy and if she touched him in the right way he would combust.

"Billy, please, rub my clit..." she panted as she rocked her hips faster, Billy could feel her walls clenching as she went faster and he reached down, rubbing the sensitive nub with his calloused fingers, causing her eyes to roll into the back of her head as she chased her high, "Is that what you want baby? Yeah? You wanna come all over this cock?" Billy mumbled as she stared up at the angel fucking herself over on his cock. He almost came seeing how blissed out she was but then he rubbed a little harder on her clit and it pushed her right over the edge. She came with a strangled cry of "Billy!" and her walls clamped down as she fell forward into his chest.

"There's a girl, such a good girl. My best girl. My only girl. Oh my love, taking me so well..." Billy mumbled as he stroked her hair, "Now, let me take over." She nodded as Billy grasped her hips and started slamming his hips against hers, causing her to moan out, feeling her pussy tighten again as he brought a hand down to her ass, the sound of the sharp slap reverberating through her apartment.

Distantly, in the back of her mind, she wondered if this was good for him in his current injured state but being so close to a second orgasm left her with one thought but to cum around his cock again.

Finding a rhythm, their hips met as she pressed her lips to his, catching his moans and hoping to mute her own as they fucked each other into oblivion. All too soon, she felt the familiar catch in her stomach as her second orgasm came around, "Billy..I..I'm so close."

"I know darling, me too. Can you wait? Can you cum with me? Please baby." She nodded as Billy fucked her harder, she rocked her hips faster and then suddenly, Billy let loose a string of expletives and she chanted billy billy billy oh god over and over again like a prayer as she felt him fill her pussy with his warm cum.

After a few minutes, she pulled away from his sweaty chest, pushing her hair behind her ears as she grinned down at him. Grinning back up at her, he tickled her waist, "Normally I can last longer but that sex has been building up for several months."

Throwing her head back she let out a laugh, "Don't worry. I don't plan on stopping having sex with you anytime soon. We have all the time in the world to build up a tolerance to each other."

A dark look washed over Billy's face as he contemplated how little time they had but instead of answering, he pulled her down into another kiss, "Let's just focus on today, love."

~~~

They spent the rest of the day entwined on the couch, mixing it up between lazy make out sessions, sex and her standing up to get the door when the delivery person rang the door to drop off food and beer.

She had asked if Billy wanted her to text Mark and Jean but he just told her he would deal with it soon. So she didn't push it. She knew she was being selfish but she wanted to keep living in this world that consisted of her, Billy and the pizza they ordered alive for as long as she could.

Unfortunately, it ended all too soon as all good things are wont to do. Soon enough, Billy was pulling on his shoes, as it grew dark out, she had been getting comfortable when he knelt down next to the bed. "Listen, love. I need to drop off something to Mark and Jean. Don't wait up for me." He leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead as she lifted her head up to meet him halfway.

"It's late babe, are you sure they'll still be up?" He fixed her with an incredulous look, "It's Mark and Jean. Of course they're still awake." She shrugged as she considered who they were talking about and conceded defeat. "Just come back to me in one piece okay? If you want," she hastily added as she realized he may want to go back to his own home "It's an open invitation. I'm sure you want to go home."

He smiled at her with melancholy in his eyes as he pressed a kiss to one cheek, "With you?" then a second kiss to her other cheek "I'm always home" Biting her lip to contain the smile threatening to break her face in two, Billy decided he had never seen a more beautiful woman and wanted to alway think of her like this.

~~~

She woke the next morning to 25 missed calls from Mark and 33 from Jean. Blearily, she called Mark. Once he picked up and started rambling, she hung up and stared straight up at the ceiling.

It wasn't until Mark came to get her after not hearing from her for hours did she register how damp her cheeks had become. She was numb. Time didn't mean anything, nothing meant anything anymore.

Billy was dead.

He had broken his promise.

~~~

Standing at the edge of a gaping hole in the world, she contemplated throwing herself into it along with the empty casket they'd be burying. She barely registered the low rumbles of a priest talking but not really hearing anything. Billy had gone to Mark and Jean, told them he needed to run a quick errand and gone back to the hotel they had just robbed from. He had been running along the roof, where it overlooked the rocky ledge of the ocean. He had jumped, thinking there was a platform there but there hadn't been. There was Billy, the air and the jagged rocks along the coast the only thing to greet him.

The coast guard searched for hours but had found no body. Just the black rubber bracelet he always wore around his wrist.

Twirling the bracelet between her fingers now, she decided that since the casket was empty, there was no point.

She had been numb since she got the news. Not moving from her couch unless Mark or Jean came to propel her into the shower, make her eat some food. but she really didn't see a point in doing anything anymore.

He had promised.

And now he was gone. So what did it matter what she did? People left, they broke promises, and words and promises didn't mean anything to anyone she guessed. She may as well do anything she wanted.

Lifting her head she saw Mark, Jean and two women who had introduced themselves as Billy's mother and sister. Mark had introduced her as Billy's girlfriend and they murmured how much Billy talked about her but it was all too little too late.

She didn't want to know anyone else other than Billy but that had been ripped from her. Standing at the edge of his grave she felt Mark and Jean grasping her shoulders, telling her they were going to give her some space. So it was just the three of them and as his sister looked at her, she smiled a thin smile, "You're just as pretty as he said you were."

She fell to her knees. It was all too much, She couldn't support herself without Billy. What did it matter? All her skills, all her knowledge about keeping people safe when she couldn't even save the person that mattered most.

~~~

"Oof, there are three certified hotties just weeping over your grave dude. How doe that feel?"

Billy's stomach clenched as he saw (Y/N) fall to her knees at his grave, watching his mother and sister race around to help her. It wasn't until One clapped a hand on his shoulder did he register that he had involuntarily moved forward to help her.

"Nuh-uh bro. Not anymore. Don't even think about doing a Christmas Carol Ghosts of Christmas Past bullshit. I spent way too much money for you to blow this whole operation."

Billy nodded mutely. Keeping an eye on the women around his grave he swallowed around the lump that had been stuck in his throat since he had left (Y/N)'s apartment.

What One had suggested to him had been too good to pass up. And when One had promised, in writing, that (Y/N) would always be kept safe and comfortable, it was a no brainer. And he knew, in his heart of hearts, that she deserved someone better, more stable than him. Not some Sky Walker who always had his head in the clouds.

Who one day may not come back to her.

Taking a deep breath he turned his back on the trio that were surrounding his grave. Sending up a prayer, he hoped she would be safe and would get over him soon. Because he knew he would never get over her for the rest of his short, harrowing life.

365 notes · View notes

bluejaytaco · 3 years ago

Text

(We returned to the session with all party members floating in the waters of Fransland. The bar has “Welcome to my realm” written on it in blood. Outside of it there are strange, humanoid creatures walking around. We're in the water, Theodora had a young elf boy knocked out on her back and Art has Reita clinging to him because she doesn't know how to swim.

The water is, however, strangely buoyant.)

Theodora:(immediately swims over and hugs Koejin) I'm never letting you go again.

Koejin: (hugs back) yeah... uh, no more jumping through strange portals for a while.

Alabaster:(casts waterwalking and walks over to Art) Hello, my friend!

Art: (jumps at the sight) Holy Jesus! Hi, hello!

(We all end up swimming to shore and catching up a little bit. The creatures were something Team A was dealing with while we were in the separate universe. From the distance, some of us can see that the creatures are all attached to one cloaked figure sitting off to the side.)

Koejin: (shoots an arrow at the figure and hits it right in the head. The head pops off and rolls closer. It's Skelly)

Skelly: What the Hell?! What just happened?! Who shot me?!(all his minions just kinda stand around his head) Don't just stand there! Reattach me!

Theodora: Skelly?

Skelly: (After his head's back on, he notices us) Oh, hey guys!

Hennessy: What're you doing here?

Skelly: I don't know. Just one minute I'm minding my own business, the next I'm here with these guys (gestures to the shambling forms) Just making friends and hanging out.

Theodora: Are they.... friends by choice? (stares pointedly at the tethers)

Skelly: They're friends by MY choice!

Theodora: How long have you been here?

Skelly: A day... A week... two years and five minutes? Ehhhh....

Art: (moves to explore the tavern)

(As he moves closer, a giant red claw comes up and climbs onto the roof. Mrs. Red glares at the party. Koejin also notices humanoid Mrs. Red is on her back. Dragon Mrs. Red rears back and uses her fire breath on everyone, successfully melting Skelly into a pile of ash.

We also have a new party member, Jaquine. She is not as high of a level as us, so the blast would kill her.

But then a large tiefling woman jumps in and takes the brunt of the burn for Jaquine. She looks.... very familiar. Despite the fact that we've only really met like two tieflings.)

Tiefling woman: Everyone, inside! Now! (Jumps up on Dragon Red's face and they fly away.)

Koejin: Uh, yeah! Let's go!

Alabaster: (moving over to bring Skelly back to life)

(Skelly is now a strange pile of moving ash. He hasn't regained his original form.)

Vincent: Yesss.... burn.... (This is like... the third time he's gotten excited about some violence.)

Hennessy: Alright! You and me! We gotta talk!

(We go inside the bar to see a scawny looking white dragonborn behind the bar, cleaning a glass. Aside from him, there's only one other patron; a woman passed out in a puddle of her own drool with long, rainbow hair.)

Art: (eyes the bartender) Hey there... I'm Art... and you are? (he already knew the answer)

Dragonborn: (smiles creepily) Oh, hi! I'm Eltbalm.

Art: Right, right. (looks over at the passed out woman and frowns as he realizes it's Thia. He walks over to her)

Reita: (runs to Wreybar and points at a hole in the wall. She then dives for it and pulls out a rat. She tears the rat in half and hands part of it to Wreybar.)

Wreybar: Is it a gift or food?

Reita: (nods and bites into her half)

Wreybar, grinning: Thank you!

(Me: I'm a good big brother for letting this happen.)

(For a moment, we cut to Hennessy and Vincent talking to each other about the way he's been acting. Vincent, after being kidnapped and just all around having a shitty time, has adopted the whole idea of killing in order to make the world better. But, after a bit of talk, he's feeling a little better. Hennessy talks about how Theodora, Koejin, and Alabaster would be able to help him with whatever he needs to feel safe again. That seems to help.)

(Meanwhile, Art is gently shaking Thia awake. He gets her to snap her head up but that's about it. He gestures to Eltbalm to get them some water for her.

We all try to get her to wake up and talk with us, but to no avail. However, all of us agree that this might be the best time for a long rest. But before that)

Hennessy: Art, can I speak to you?

Art: Uh... yeah. What's up?

Hennessy: Your sister. She's still got that pink stone embedded in her back, right?

Art: Yeah... we haven't been able to remove it... why do you ask?

Hennessy: Well, while we were all superpowered by the gods, I came across a spell that might be helpful. We could create a clone copy of Reita and remove the stone from her original body. Then, if anything were to go haywire, then we can put her essence into the clone.

Art:.... I want you to think about this for a second.. Put yourself in my shoes and Vincent in Reita's.... would you still trust it?

Hennessy: If it means saving his very life and the lives of millions, then of course!

Art: Don't get me wrong; I'm not saying no. It's just... a lot. And, I mean, it's not like we can do it right now anyway, right?

Hennessy, seeing that Art doesn't fully trust the idea: Yes, but... to ease your worries... it might help to keep in mind we have a genuine necromancer on our side. (Gestures to Alabaster)

Alabaster, seeing that gesture and looks over to find out whats going on: Hello, yes!

Art: You're a necromancer now?!

Alabaster: Why yes. It's an interesting tale but yes. And I would be able to help your sister, given the situation!

Art: (looks at the Skelly blob then up at Alabaster tensely. He then turns back to Hennessy.) It's not something we can do now anyway so....

(Everyone took a look at the stone. Hennessy discovered it was an ancient magic while Art recognized it as tiefling magic. Theodora offered to cut the magic and see what might come of it, but Art was afraid it might hurt Reita. He might be a little over protective.

This is around where we took our rest. As we're rested and trying to figure out our next move, the tiefling woman steps in through the door. She has in her hands the fifteen foot battle axe and is covered in blood. She walks up, demands a beer from Eltbalm, and walks back over to the table where Thia is still passed out. As she takes a sip, she gestures to all of us to gather around.)

Tiefling Woman: Must be pretty confusing for all of you.

Art: That's putting it lightly.

Tiefling Woman: So, let's start with an introduction; I'm Elsie. Elsie Red. I'm the only form of Mrs. Red here that's a tiefling.

Art: ...yeah, why are you a tiefling?

Elsie, shrugging: Don't know. Don't have any memories of anything outside of here. But, hey! I gotta gift for you (looks over at Eltbalm) Hey, you! Go get her. And you better not have touched her!

Eltbalm: Aww, but- (interrupted by the battle axe embedding itself in the wall next to him) coming up!

(Eltbalm disappears for a moment and returns with a bound Mrs. Red. It's our Red; missing tongue and all. He sits her down next to Elsie.)

Hennessy: Elsie, is your story anything like our Red's? It's quite the tragic tale.

Elsie: I don't know. I dont remember. That smiling bastard sent me and all these reds here. It's like we're some kind of experiment or something.

Theodora, nodding: Sounds like Ticket Master, alright. He is quite an asshole.

Hennessy, turning to Red: Do you still have the diary I returned to you?

Red: (nodding in her condescending, mean girl way)

(Art tries to reach into her satchel in order to show Elsie only to get bitten for the trouble.)

Art: Ow, hey! You bitch!

Red: (glaring at him)

(Art gives Elsie a rundown of what they know about Red's backstory. It sums up to Red ending the war and starting her reign of terror after the death of Eltbalm. At that, he points to the scrawny dragonborn at the bar.)

Elsie: Uhhh, no. I remember being married to a tiefling woman. He's not really my type....

Art: Our Eltbalms haven't looked like that. They're more....uh... Koejin, describe Eltbalm.

Koejin: Oh... He's just so hunky and buff. He's covered in shiny white scales. Like, a beautiful man just... (chef's kiss)

Elsie: Yeah, still no.

(We eventually decide that our Red's inability to speak was making this hard. So, we ask Vincent if there's anything he can do.

Turns out, DM rolls high enough to where Vincent pulls out a mechanical tongue.)

Vincent: Now, you gonna go and bite me the moment I go to put this in your mouth?

Red: (nods with a 'Well, duh' look on her face)

Vncent, putting the tongue on the table: Then you can do it yourself.

(Elsie undoes Red's hands and Red immediately dives to put the tongue in her mouth. She doesn't take long to secure it.)

Red, pointing to all of us: Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuuuck you. And a special 'fuck you' to you! (points at Elsie)

Alabaster: Charming.

Red: You took away everything from me and expect me to do anything for you?!

Art: Oh, you mean like what you've been doing to us?

Red: Oh, you fucking little shit. Why the fuck would I care?! You interrupted everything and stopped my ascent to finally killing that smiling asshole you call Ticket Master.

Art: Please, you went toe to toe with him and couldn't take him down.

(We ended up arguing with Red for a while and trying to get her to help us and figure out the parts missing that kept her from doing it. Then...)

Thia: (grabs the empty beer bottle and smashes it against the table. Holds it out to Red) put that to your neck.

Red: (loses control of herself and immediately follows the order) Wha-?

Thia: How do we get out of here?

Red: I- (is comanded to press in deeper. Starts to cry.) I... I don't know. I don't know. I can't remember!

Thia: Then remember.

Red, freezes for a second: I... remember everything...I... (turns to Art) I'm your mother.

Art: I... Wh-wait.... what?

Red: It happened so long ago now. I... Eltbalm and I... were tieflings. We were very much in love. We were happy... Eventually, we were blessed with a beautiful baby. A little girl... but, the land told us, no. Our girl would become a charming handsome boy. Not too long after, we were granted our beautiful, sweet Reita... but... but the war came to our land. They killed Eltbalm, my love. Right in front of me... So I prayed to the land for a way. To stop the war. To protect my children. I was turned into a dragon and given the power to end it all, so I did. And I prayed for a way to bring my husband back. And the land granted me the stones. All parts of Eltbalm.

I didn't know I would be worshipped by our people. I just wanted you to be safe... so, I prayed for a way to the land. And then.... he appeared.

I was so full of rage, but Ticket Master offered me a way. I sold him my soul and I asked that you and your sister were raised by tieflings. To be sure you were kept safe. And he did...

I tried to make it so Reita could be strong like me. Even in my rage and my forgotten memories, I wanted to keep her safe. She was so... helpless. Art, I am so sorry it turned out this way. I lo-

Thia, interrupting the last part: slit your throat.

(Red follows the order and immediately starts bleeding out. Her body collapses on the ground.)

Art: (immediately moves to save her)

Thia: Stop.

Art: (Fails a Con save and is forced to stop)

Theodora: (moves in to heal Red)

Thia: Sit down.

Theodora: (Fails a Con save and follows the order)

Hennessy: Now, wait ju-

Thia: Cover your mouth.

Hennessy: (Fails a Con save and follows the order) Mmmph Rmph!

Koejin: Thia, why're you doing this?

Thia: It's what you guys taught me. you have to kill in order to get to the top. In order to get anyone to listen. To get any type of power.

Koejin:...I thought you just wanted to do drugs and run your bar.

Thia: I did. But then this shit started happening. And you guys started killing generals. And you guided me here. That's when I realized that yes, this is the only way.

Theodora: (trying to do Lay On Hands to Red as Thia's distracted.)

Thia, noticing: Go lay down in that corner, far away from her and don't move.

Theodora:(fails the Con save and does that.)

Art: The leader shouldn't be influenced by their followers.

Thia: I wasn't your leader. Cloak was. And look how much you cared about her death. (glares at Art) not that you're one to talk about not killing. You signed a contract for the God of Death and Deceit.

Art, glaring back: To save my sister.

Thia: still.

Hennessy: (still screaming behind his muffled hands)

Art, casting Sending to get what he was trying to say: Hennessy says "we have been nothing but merciful as instructed." He also said other things, but it got caught off.

Thia: Fine. Remove your hands and speak.

Hennessy: We have been more merciful to everyone of these generals. Green, your own father, was spared and look now! He's one of our strongest allies! Purple returned to their gem under our influence!

Thia: And what about Orange? And Blue? And Yellow?!

Hennessy: Orange was.... an unfortunate circumstance. And Blue gave us no choice. But Yellow; if I recall he willingly died.

Art, tenses: Uhhh, Hennessy...? Yellow was Thia's mother. And she didn't.

Thia, clearly even more angered: I'm starting to think this world needs to be wiped clean so we can begin again.

Art:.... Please don't think that.

(As if hearing her, the roof of the tavern is torn off and there stands Shmoogie. He's staring down at us.)

Shmoogie: Pelor knew you would see the light. (puts his hand down to her) Come now. There's much work to be done.

Thia: (climbs onto the hand)

(Everyone scrambles to look for a way to stop her from leaving with him. In his panic to keep her there, Art uses Black Tentacles to try and pull her out of his hands before she goes out of reach. Thia sees it and tries to order him to stop, but gets smacked in the face by one of them and is now sporting a huge mark near her eye. She disappears through a white portal in the sky with Shmoogie.

But the spell is then released and they can move.)

Art, rushes over to Red, torn in what he's about to do: Okay, I kinda shouldn't care but after all that now I don't want you to die. There's waaaay too many questions to be answered, but you're still an insane bitch. Okay, I'm gonna do this. I'm gonna save the life of my...mother...mortal enemy... fuck.... How the fuck did Alabaster do this? Here we go. (casts spare the dying on Red)

Red: (Alive and no longer bleeding out, but out cold)

Reita: (watching her brother in confusion)

Art, noticing this: Uhhh... hey, uhhh... There's a lot to explain but.... once I understand what's going on, I'll explain it all. Okay?

Reita: (lifts some of her half-eaten rat to her mouth)

Art: (pushes it back down slowly)

(As Art is healing Mrs. Red and talking to Rieta, everyone is discussing the best way to get out of here. Theodora and Koejin have some private talks with the DM and come back, but seem reluctant to do the things they were talking about.)

Theodora, to Elsie: You think you can turn into a dragon and help us out?

Elsie: You're asking this from the only Mrs. Red that can't.

Koejin:... I think I have an idea. (digs through her bag for a gem she had.)

(She summons a carriage labelled Koejin's Brews and it's pulled by a horse with sunglasses.)

Horse: Heeey there, Koejin! Ready to ascend to your position?

Art:... Koejin's a god... I mean, why not? Why the fuck not? (heads to the carriage to immediately drink his face off.)

(We all pile on the carriage to find a fully stocked tavern with plenty of room. Like a bar version of a Tardis. "A Bardis" as Theodora's player starts calling it. And, as we ascend, the bar shakes a little as if experiencing turbulence, but then we end up in a world of light.

It's bright and white. Everything is white. Including the people.

Me: Sooo, Racism?

DM: It's Pelor's realm.

Theodora's Player: So, yeah, racism.)

(As we step off the carriage, we pass by people and see a letter hanging from the gate. On it is written "To Alabaster.")

Alabaster: (takes the letter)

Letter: Alabaster, you used to be so devout and loyal, but seem to have been corrupted by the influences around you. I will cleanse this world of all that is dark. Come see me and will do the same for you. It isn't too late. Not for you and not for your daughter. Come see me, my boy.

Pelor

(Attached to the letter is a picture of Eris, Alabaster's daughter. Pelor is holding her by the head.)

((DM wasn't kidding when he said this would be pretty intense.))

((Koejin's Player: So... I've been hitting on Art's dad...))

2 notes · View notes

langdxn · 5 years ago

Note

Hi. Hello! Original Punk!Duncan anon here to say you absolutely killed me with that fic. So freaking good! I loved it!! I wouldn’t say no to a part 2 where he finally gets her back to his place and gives her the night of life. Who knows maybe they find out they actually really like each other and wanna make it a regular thing.... 👀

First of all, I’m so sorry this took so long! Secondly, I’m so sorry this part is so long! Thirdly, I’m sorry there’s zero character development here but… these two needed a few happy endings. This definitely isn’t the last we’ll be seeing of punk!Duncan x punk!reader so by all means send me what you want these two to get up to next 🖤🖤🖤

read part one here

“Whoa, easy tiger—“

Duncan popped up from between your glistening thighs, clear droplets forming on his lip ring and his front spikes glued to his forehead, bowing weakly beneath the sheer volume of liquid you’d assaulted him with.

“What’s the matter, gorgeous?” Duncan spluttered, completely oblivious to your feverishly shaking legs draped over his shoulders, your chest heaving uncontrollably and your eyes fluttering manically.

His firm palm had pinned you down and pounded you through two more overwhelming orgasms on the back seat of his Camaro, soaking the leather beneath your thighs and leaving the top of his shabby cut-off Black Flag shirt so sodden, it was clinging to every delicious curve of his chest.

“I—is overstimulation your thing?” You queried through an exhausted stutter, hips jerking as his soft breaths against your swollen folds sent shockwaves through your body. “Because you’re really—“

“Oh fuck,” his hands flew into a mid-air surrender, his cheeky smirk melting into a look of concern. “I’m so sorry baby, are you okay?”

“I’m okay, it’s just… I’ve never felt like this before.”

Something about this mysterious stranger allowed you to be completely honest with him. You’d never squirted before, least of all three times in a row. What’s more, you’d never hooked up with someone who selflessly dipped between your legs and prioritised making you feel good for what felt like hours.

So selflessly, he was practically bursting his tight black jeans. In fact, he looked like he was bursting them even when he wasn’t rock hard and desperately rutting against thin air.

“Then let’s get you home,” Duncan sighed, planting reassuring palms on your dripping thighs and smiling warmly through his lust-blown haze.

“What if I don’t want to go back home, Shepherd?” You shot a bemused glance at him beneath quirked eyebrows.

“Oh babe, I wasn’t talking about your home.”

You could’ve sworn everybody heard your sigh of relief and nervous laughter well over the cacophony of incoherent Fugazi-esque tones booming from the venue beside you.

“Then I’ll strike a deal with you. Get in the front seat and look through your keys,” you hummed contentedly as you reached out to cup his straining length through his jeans. “And I’ll keep you busy.”

Duncan cleared his throat and his hungry eyes nearly leapt from their sockets.

“Well—that’d be… yeah, I can roll with that.” The determination in his complacent tone spoke all the words he failed to weave together as he clambered back into the front seat. Your gaze fixed on his impossibly tight pants curving in front of you — how he looked this perfect after you squirted over him three times was beyond your comprehension.

Your legs may not have fully regained composure by the time you flung two fragile thighs over into the passenger seat. If your first attempt at this challenge was ungraceful, this time was even more embarrassing. Luckily, Duncan was too busy unbuckling his studded belt and yanking his zipper down to notice you staggering into the chair.

“You sure about this?” He politely checked as he fished the jangling car keys from his pocket.

“Shut it and get searching, Duncan,” you hummed, battling past his boxers and freeing his length with a groan escaping his lips.

“This girl really knows how to pussywhip me already,” Duncan moaned, his head throwing back into the headrest as your fingertips curled around his girth.

Teasing him for that remark, your lips parted gently as you tickled the tip of his cock with your tongue. His bucking hips and low growl suggested he got the message, swiftly followed by the jangling of his keys as he resumed the epic search for any way to get home.

“Good boy,” you muttered before licking a slow, flat stripe up from his base, agonisingly teasing his length as he twitched in your grasp.

“Fuck me,” Duncan yelped, metal clanking against metal in his hands. “I’m never gonna find this fucking key like this.”

“Try the big one, big guy,” you muttered with a chuckle, suddenly wrapping your lips over his tip and sliding down over his length in one swift motion. Duncan’s back arched intently in his seat, the leather creaking beneath him as he writhed.

“Ah, there you are, you motherfucker,” Duncan exclaimed, a celebratory jangle of his keys filling the car before he flicked the ignition and the engine purred loudly. “Fucking finally!”

Giggling in the back of your throat as your nose nudged his abdomen, you flattened your tongue and sucked lightly as you bobbed down on his cock. Duncan’s arm brushed over your back to reach the stick shift, returning to rest comfortably on your spine as he yanked the car into gear and pulled off.

“Right, two blocks and I’m—oh Jesus fuck,” Duncan cursed as his foot slammed the pedal to the floor. “Two blocks and I’m all yours, baby doll.”

The swaying motion as the car swung impatiently around a corner helped you take his length further down the back of your throat. Swirling your tongue as you withdrew until his tip held temptingly within your lips, Duncan’s hand wandered to the back of your choker, his unusually soft fingers gently curling beneath the leather. With his next broken gasp as you took him down again, his subtle grip suddenly tightened, pulling back against your throat just hard enough to wake up your gag reflex and hollow out your cheeks.

“That’s it, baby,” Duncan praised, turning another sharp corner at a furious pace. “We’re almost there—mother of fuck you take me so well.”

You hummed contentedly as you bumped your nose into his abdomen, the revving engine trying its hardest to drown out both you, the slick sliding of your lips over his flushed cock and Duncan’s gratuitous moans.

“Oh my god,” he whimpered weakly, spinning around one final corner before yanking the handbrake and clasping both hands behind your head. “I’m gonna cum—“

His last syllable crashed through the silence as a blissful cry, his cock twitching furiously against your tongue as he reached his climax, shooting straight down the back of your throat as his hips bucked into your lips. Retreating from his tip and making an audible gulp, Duncan moaned even louder.

“You swallow too?” He half-chuckled in disbelief. “You’re quickly becoming my dream girl, babe.”

———

By some miracle, Duncan’s apartment elevator arrived immediately and he ushered you in with a hand gently hovering just beside your ass. Firing him a seductive smirk as you spun around in the mirrored cubicle, the blinding white lights highlighted the dried tracks of your arousal streaking down his face. Failing to stifle a laugh and a slightly mocking point at his face, Duncan faux-scowled at you while automatically slicking back his now-drooping spikes.

“What’s so funny, punk?” He jibed before checking himself out in the mirror. “Holy shit, you ruined me!”

“You’re more than welcome, Mr Shepherd,” you taunted with a grin, looping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss as he pressed the button for his floor.

This time, his kiss was different. His lips held onto yours protectively, almost lovingly, like he couldn’t stand to part from your soft touch. His hands delicately cupped your face as he pulled you in closer, his nose ring streaking a cool metallic sensation against yours.

Duncan felt safe with you. Understood by you. The world he knew shunned him for who he was, pretended he was stuck in some immature cultural phase that would soon morph into refined three-piece suits and expensive boots. What they didn’t know was just how expensive Doc Martens are these days.

“Fuck this,” Duncan broke the silence as he slammed a palm against the elevator console, drawing the motion to an abrupt halt. You simply giggled against his lips and kissed him deeper — the punk in your arms really wasn’t in a patient mood tonight.

Slowly stepping you back against the mirror, one wide hand eagerly surged up your skirt and meandered through the shredded streaks of your tights, sweeping your soaking panties to one side. The other, less impatient hand withdrew his rock hard length from his boxers once again and wasted no time lining himself up with your entrance.

“I’ve wanted to do this all goddamn night,” Duncan husked as he dipped into the nape of your neck, peppering cool lip ring kisses as he hooked your thigh around his hip. “You ready, baby girl?”

A delirious nod was all the confirmation he needed to ease himself through your dampened folds, seating his length inside you with one swift curl of his hips as you both cried out in unison.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Duncan growled into the shell of your ear as he set a steady pace rocking into you, revelling in the way you melted into him. “At this rate—Jesus—I’m not gonna last long.”

“Dunc, I—“

Not half an hour ago, Duncan’s relentless onslaught on your core left you a shaking, stuttering mess and it seemed your body hadn’t quite recovered. As your trembling leg threatened to give way beneath you, Duncan jolted forward you press you closer to the wall and swept your thigh around his waist to mirror the other.

“I’ve got you baby,” Duncan cooed softly, striking a contrast with the increasing speed of his hips crashing against yours.

“You’ve got me so—you’ve got me so deep,” you whimpered as your eyes widened against the rising pressure within you, Duncan’s tip relentlessly grazing your most sensitive spot. Digging your nails into the smooth leather of his jacket, you let a pornographic moan pour from your tongue as your walls fluttered around his length.

“Jesus fuck you say the hottest things,” Duncan growled, burying himself deep inside you as his cock twitched vigorously, spilling against your walls with a gratuitous grunt accompanied each final thrust.

“There is,” you stuttered through laboured breaths, palms flat to his chest as his heart raced against you. “Nothing more punk than fucking in a broken down elevator.”

“Too fucking right,” Duncan bumped his dripping forehead against yours to laugh with you. “You still wanna come up?”

His piercing eyes met yours with a curious hope, smiling broadly against your lips.

“Of course, Dunc,” you sighed before kissing him deeply. “I’ve got an early start though, so I’ll have to sneak out before you’re up.”

“I’ve got a better idea,” Duncan scoffed, tapping away at the console to start the elevator moving yet refusing to break his gaze into your eyes, into your soul. “Who do you work for? I’ll call them first thing, tell them there’s a lucrative collaboration with the Shepherd Foundation on the cards for their leniency with you for a little later start.”

“I don’t think that’ll work,” you laughed nervously, buckling your bondage belt behind you — a specific talent only a seasoned punk can complete all by herself.

“Why not, babe? Do you work for the CIA or some shit?” He cracked, reluctantly zipping his jeans knowing full well they’d be coming straight off once you made it to his floor. “Are you gonna arrest me for fucking you too hard?”

“Not quite.”

“Well where could you possibly work that would frown on a decent, upstanding gentleman such as myself, Duncan Shepherd, calling in for his girl?”

His girl. Was that the fucked out haze talking? As the elevator pinged to signal your arrival at his floor, you cleared your throat nervously and glanced down to your feet.

“The White House.”

#punk!duncan #punk!duncan x reader #duncan shepherd x reader #duncan shepherd fanfiction #duncan shepherd smut #duncan shepherd imagines #duncan shepherd #house of cards

181 notes · View notes

nevermore-ocs · 4 years ago

Text

Parents

Author’s note: SO *claps* We got something pretty serious this time y’all, about 2.4K words, a story from Rayne’s past but this has REALLY SERIOUS topics in it, SENSITIVE STUFF IN IT, seriously if you CAN’T read it OR IT’S TOO DIFFICULT TO, you can totally skip it, Rayne’s story is the most REAL one and it was difficult for me to type it not gonna lie, I’M GONNA TAG WHAT’S IN IT HERE AND ALSO IN THE TAGS FOR DOUBLE PROTECTION-

SO, WARNINGS HERE: tw // blood tw // abuse tw // violence tw // homophobia

The car was hot now.

The windows, once clear, now had a layered sheen of condensation on them from the inside. Determined little beads of built-up water steadily rolling down the glass in a silent race. The car reverberated with the low rumble of R&B playing from the radio just to set the mood, she figured. Rayne, her face tinted with a light crimson to her cheeks, gradually sat up in her side of the backseat while she panted out, she licked her lips, she could still taste her essence tainting her mouth and printing itself onto there. Allison, this, brunette haired, blue-eyed, long-legged, and slender girl that went to the same high-school as Rayne was laid out next to her. Her trembling legs were still spread apart, too sensitive to even think about closing, her head was leaned back against the door. She gasped out harder and louder than Rayne did for she was coming down from the orgasmic high that had hit her harder than a speeding bullet train. Rayne settled her hand on one of Allison's knees, "You gonna get up?" She muttered with a twinge of impatience, pushing the other girl's legs closed for her practically, Allison huffed, "Can't you give me, like, fucking 10 seconds, Rayne, Jesus!" She snapped, harsher and quicker than she originally intended. She glanced down the seat and caught just in time of Rayne glancing away with narrowing eyes and a furrowed brow, she stared through a gap in the fog on the window thanks to her wiping it away with the side of her fist. The brunette, drifting her eyes away for a moment, looked back at her and she gently sat up, "I'm sorry," Allison murmured, her hand going to Rayne's shoulder to provide some sort of comfort, she even gave it a tender squeeze. Rayne, without even giving her another glance, snatched her shoulder out of Allison's grasp, "Least I can get you to fucking cum anyway," she growled, taking a hold of the door handle, she pushed the door open hard, and before she closed it, she leaned in once more, "Last time I checked, Jack can't do that for you right?" She shot, and she slammed the door close, leaving Allison inside with her stunned and terrified expression at the sheer mention of her boyfriend. Rayne glared once more at the condensed and covered window, staring it down in a way before turning and beginning to trudge in the opposite direction when the car turned over and drove away. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out an open, crinkled, and an almost empty box of cigarettes, along with a blue lighter that had noticeably low fluid in it. She flipped open the lid when she raised the box to her mouth and she caught one of the smokes in between her lips. Whilst she slid the pack back into her pocket, it took a couple of tries, but the lighter awoken with a bright, burning orange flame and she held it to the cigarette, lighting the end of it and taking a deep and much-needed drag of it. She held the cigarette in between her index finger and the middle one, taking it out of her mouth. She breathed the smoke out in a deep sigh, letting it leave her lungs for now.

She longed this walk, this rut she's imprinted into the sidewalk, she knew it like the back of her head and she hated the destination. She tapped the built-up ash off of the cigarette and put it back in between her lips and let it hang loosely there as she got closer and closer to her house with every hesitant step. Her home didn't feel like a home anymore, so, better to call it a house than ever a home. As she approached the porch, she glanced towards the illuminated living room window. She studied it, the tv was on and playing some kind of sporting event, it looked like football but she didn't care a single bit. All it told her was that he was awake, and was probably a six-pack down already. She took the cigarette out of her mouth and put it out by grinding the lit end against the wooden rail of the porch, then she crumpled the stick up and threw it to the side, in the garden barely attended to anymore. She's done this process so many times now there was a small build-up of extinguished, thrown-away smokes and small, black, circles brunt into the cedarwood. She haltingly stepped up the porch stairs, she knew what was going to happen, it was inevitable, it was every day now, like clockwork, right on the dot too. Rayne stood at the door, her eyes glared down at the worn in welcoming mat. "Welcome to our happy home!" The bold, elegantly inscribed words taunted her silently.

Happy home. What a bunch of shit.

Turning the doorknob, the front door creaked open and she stepped inside, letting the door shut behind her. She didn't even bother to lock it as she was already hurrying to the back of the house to the rooms. "Where the Hell were ya tonight, girl?" Her father, a slim man, more skin and bone than muscle with his hair shaved down to a buzz-cut and dressed in a white tank-top and shorts glared over at her. His words were slurred, the simple sentence seemed to be a struggle for him to even think of. Rayne scoffed, barely looking over at him, "Like you fuckin' care," she retorted, already hearing him begin to shuffle and stumble around when he tried to pull himself out of the sofa. She never wanted to see him. She couldn't stand him, his smell that always reeked massively of liquor, how disheveled he was, he was like a leech just sucking the dwindling life-force of what once was a pleasant and happy home. That seemed like such a distant memory now. As she approached the target door, she fixed her hair with a simple brushing of her fingers going through the somewhat black, tangled hair. She tugged on the front of her flannel shirt, fixed the collar, and took in a deep breath, and let it out to calm down her infuriated nerves. She wanted to at least seem happy for her, she didn't need any more stress on her heart. With a firm grip on the golden doorknob, she gradually turned it and creaked open the door open, it squeaked with its minuscule movement, the invading light of the hallway seeping into the dark room. When there was a big enough gap in the open doorway, she stepped in and closed it behind her, this time she did lock it behind her. She didn't want anyone disturbing this time.

"Hey mom." She murmured gently, her words had a minor waver to them at the sight of her mother, swaddled up in two or three blankets with her head buried in a bevy of pillows. Her once beautiful, wavy, red hair, now lazily put up in a messy bun, unkempt and rarely cared for. She glanced at her mother's face, her tired eyes looked sunken in like she got clocked in both of her eyes and had little life after the hits. Hearing Rayne's voice, however, seemed to have sparked her engine a little. Weakly, she lifted her head from the pillows and glanced over her shoulder at Rayne before relaxing again. "Hey baby..." Her words were so quiet, if it weren't for the stillness of her bedroom she wouldn't have heard her speak up at all. It pained Rayne just to stand there, shifting on her feet, unable to do anything about the illness that ran rampant through her body, destroying everything in its path to leave nothing but an empty shell to deteriorate in a black box buried six feet deep in the ground. "How was today? Any pain?" She always asked this question and always got the same answer, "Same old, same old, sweetie..." Just like clockwork. "Right, yeah," letting a defeated sigh escape her lips, she trudged over to her mother's bedside. Every step closer brought tears further to the dangerous brink of pouring out of her eyes as two steady, strong rivers. She loomed over her at her bedside, she didn't want to cry despite it being so tempting to, she was sure that her mom wouldn't be mad at her for it, even understand it. However, she wanted to be strong for her, even if that meant bottling up every true feeling and everything single thing she wanted to vent out and scream and cry and shout for all to hear, and putting it away, and locking it up. Just to lessen to worry on her heart. Rayne leaned down, she pressed a chaste, little peck to her mother's forehead, and let her own rest on the side of her head for a few moments. She didn't want to leave, if she could, she'd stay in here for the rest of her life just comforting her mother, to ease her through the pain, to remind her to take her medicine, and just hope that one day, she'd just sit up in bed all vibrant and happy and laughing, and just be herself again. Nowadays, hope was dwindling, her old family became a fragment of a memory to be dusted away, to never be remembered. "I'll see you later, okay?" She muttered, she leaned back up, turning, she trudged back to the door, shaky, stuttering breaths slowly seeping out of her mouth, some impatient tears coming up to the corners of her eyes and they ran down her cheeks, "Love you, little rain cloud..." hearing her childhood nickname come from her mouth as weak and as quiet as it did was the final, killing stab in her gut. It made her stop in her steps, right at the doorway again. It took a few moments, to stir up the strength in her to even attempt to say goodbye, she glanced over her shoulder a little hesitantly, her eyes glossy with tears, "I love you too, mom..." She whispered, closing the door behind her with a heavy heart.

She needed a drink. She wanted to go into the kitchen, grab one of the cheap bottled beer from the numerous six-packs littering the fridge and just forget about her troubles for at least tonight. Who was going to stop her from that? Taking hold of the fridge handle, she swung it open, grabbed a beer by the neck of the bottle, and took it out of the fridge. She twisted it open and tossed the metal cap to the side, she raised the bottle up to her lips about to take a drink but stopped midway when she saw him at the door. Her father. She chuckled, irritation already leaking into her tone, "Thought it started to smell bad in here," she muttered, staring at her father who stalked at the doorway, "You didn't fuckin' answer my question earlier," he grumbled, the drunkenness evident as clear water in his voice, he lumbered up to him, if it weren't for the wall to prop his hand up against, he would have fallen flat on his face and hopefully knocked himself out. He got close enough for the stench of the hard alcohol to invade her nostrils and take over her air, it made her turn her head with a grimaced expression. "Where the fuck were ya tonight?" He growled, and with a sigh of annoyance, she slammed her bottle down on the kitchen table and snapped her head back to him, "I was out, with friends, why do you care?" She retorted, "You trying to get good jack off material from them, you don't need to know everything about my fucking life!" Shoving him away with her hands pushing against his chest, she started to hurriedly walk around him and towards the exit. "Get yer ass fuckin' back here!!" Her father launched his hand swiftly to the back of her head and grab a fistful of her hair and he tugged her back, hard. "Ah, fuck-! Let me the fuck go, you fuckin-" Her words were silenced, he threw her down onto the tile floor hard enough for the back of her head to crack against the hard surface, causing her to curse out loudly with pain. "Ya know what I think you were doin'? Ya were with that little slut again, weren't ya," he stomped to her side and propelled his leg forward in a strong kick, right into her gut, causing her to lurch forward and hug her abdomen while she coughed out roughly, her eyes threatening to water, "Yeah that fuckin' little Allison slut, ya were with her again, ya fuckin' faggot! Chokin' on her cunt again, fuckin' disgusting!" Rayne was gradually sitting up, the kick having knocked the wind out of her, but when she was at least sat up, her father glared back down at her and pulled his fist back. He sent his fist right at her mouth and it connected in a hard right cut, it sent her back down onto the tile in a hard slam, the corner of her lip sliced open, and a steady deep crimson stream of red blood poured out of it and dripped onto the floor. Standing over her, her father stepped to the side and grabbed her open beer bottle, and took a deep swig of the alcohol. When the bottle lowered from his lips, he let out a heavy, relieved sigh at the numbing liquid, he glanced at her, raising the bottle, he turned it to its side and let the alcohol pour out of the glass and down onto her and when just drips were left plinking onto the side of her face, he casually rested the bottle back on the table. "And clean yer shit up," he rubbed salt in the wound every time, he would have done more to make her feel lower than dirt if it weren't for his team playing against their all-time rivals in the playoffs on tv right now. He stepped out of the kitchen and left Rayne there, her eyes were blurry and her chest heaved with wheezing breaths, she stared the best she could at the growing pool of red blood building up around her head so monotonously, so slowly. It would stain the tiles, she was sure.

What a happy home, right?

8 notes · View notes