#sorry if it gets pretentious or whatever.. i had some ideas and i didn't really know how to weave them into the narrative smoothly

[boundsoffateandfamily]

the hazel wood

An obsession that lasts two decades has to be kept alive with skill and care. Like the sacred fire of Zoroastrian temples, crackling unceasingly inside a glass chamber, it needs constant tending from its priest and regular offerings of something odorous and incendiary, bone-dry sandalwood or else. And that's the hunt and the thrill of the hunt, and it's the blood of innocent victims, and it's the gratification of avenging or preventing the same tragedy in different faces, different houses. Rage begets rage, people often say, but it might also be argued that all the productive violence and the satisfaction that comes from helping those in need of help could have given some personal closure, some peace of mind, at least to some extent. And it did not. John would return from a hunting trip, no longer the hunter but the angry wounded animal with the angry inevitable wound festering on his side (a hunter always arrives at least one victim too late), prone to thrash about, biting, kicking, and lashing out at anything or anyone within reach. The more rabid the longer he is inactive, as if he can only be hunter or beast, and knows nothing of what lies outside the chase and the woods.

Dean sometimes deems that the job does actually kind of console, does kind of make things more bearable, after having had a taste of it himself. No training is more effective, no endeavor is more absorbing. No moment of greater peace than the one that comes after seeing the ghost dissolve into smoldering ashes, the demon seep through the tiny fissures of the soft brown earth, the monster collapse into a jumble of flesh and viscera. But if his father felt that way all the years he worked alone, then Dean would have to wonder if John came back to them from those hunts not to seek some respite between gulps of rage but the opposite, to remember and take the fading, muddled, complicated pain and make it simple and sharp once again. Maybe he and Sam were, in a subconscious way, the dripping wound that Mary left, that the monster that killed her left, that had to be nursed and scratched never to close and scar, not much of a family but the insistence of an absence. Little faces haunted by absence, starving even for an annoyed glance or a distracted inquiry about their progress at school. Somehow their little boys, the last physical remnant of their union, the mixed blood in their little veins, somehow it had become the fuel of that mysterious fire that broke out in their home and still is burning, never to be quenched, not in his mind's eye.

What is the blueprint of the hunter? Is it being harshly touched by the otherworldly? Dean hasn’t met many hunters, but from what he’s gathered, every hunter has in their personal history that one tragic incident to which their never-ending quest can be traced back. A bloody initiation to the truth of this world, like a second birth: once your eyes are wide open, there’s no going back. The garden fades into dark woods like a dissipating mirage, it doesn’t exist anymore ­–it probably never existed in the first place. A false sense of security. One encounter with the abnormal to render all normalcy into a charade. One moment you're safe, home, surrounded by beloved ones and fellow human beings, and the next it's just you, alone, and the realization of being exposed and vulnerable in the middle of a vicious jungle, the pressing awareness of danger in every shadow and every noise. Evil in everything and everywhere, searching for crevices to seep through.

But knowledge can't be the only thing, not even if it has emerged in the most traumatic shape. Just how many of the people they have saved over the years and who have come to see behind the veil of what is explicable have decided to carry on with their ordinary lives. The absolute majority. It wasn't a question of spirit or righteousness, and it didn't matter if there was nothing left to return to: in the wasteland, the road could be formed in any direction, but no one chooses theirs. Eyes wide open is not enough. Eyes slashed open, eyes ripped open is not enough. The wound has to get infected; the infection has to poison the blood.

Messing to the marrow, tangling your guts with what you don’t even begin to understand requires a certain sort of insanity, some sort of impurity, of freakiness.

Dean realizes his father is doing the best he can within their circumstantial limitations. He’s a hero and Dean worships him, and like the old heroes of ages past, he seems to stand in a mythical plane of existence, beyond good and evil as they are understood today. Normal fatherhood standards do not apply to him either. It matters that he’s trying. But it's also true that pain can mutilate a man's ability to feel. He hasn’t forgotten that night, just a bunch of days after the fire, no matter how much he would like to bury definitely the memory. Perhaps the little instinct of self-preservation he has left prevents him from doing so.

They must have been still in Lawrence, most likely staying at the home of some family friends whose faces and names Dean can’t recall. The house was nice, better furnished and more cozily decorated, it displayed a slightly higher standard of living than what had been his parents', but Dean hated it there with all his heart and he couldn't wait to get back to his room and his toys, his smaller TV, his bathtub where mom helped him wash his hair every night, and the nursery where little Sammy babbled and wiggled his rosy little feet in the air while mom played with them and told Dean wonderous stories and answered his questions about tigers, space or guardian angels. He knew that if he sneaked out and crossed the few streets that separated him from all that he missed, he would not find it. Half the house was gone, the other half scorched, and it was not safe. But nothing was safe anymore, was it? Not even the place they were now, no matter how much his father tried to hide his anxiety by having them play catch in the backyard or getting him his favorite brand of cereal. Dad had deep dark shadows under his eyes, dad startled at the slightest noise, he often withdrew into himself for long stretches of time as if spellbound. And people seemed to act awkwardly around him, a mixture of frustration and pity; ‘you are in shock’ they would say, ‘you have to listen to what you’re saying’, then they would pass him a little amber bottle and a glass of water ‘take these, they worked wonders for me after the car accident’.

They were supposed to grieve and gather strength to rebuild their lives and move forward, but the nightmare didn't seem to end. The screams and the roar of the flames, the smoke crawling like a living thing through ceilings and walls, making his eyes hot and water as he ran with his fragile package downstairs, –and later­–, the howl of the ambulances, hearing his father yelling frantically at the firemen, seeing in the distance his blank stare as he repeated his testimony over and over like an automaton to a couple of policemen, –and afterwards–, sitting on the car hood, clinging to his father and finding a trembling body like his own, and then the eventual we're sorry, this must be very difficult for you, and the no evidence has been found to confirm her death, the disturbingly disconcerting there's no body, no skeletal remains, no teeth, his father’s Dean, please go with this kind lady, she'll give you some water while I talk to the officers, just a few minutes and the muted talk about ominous things he couldn’t understand like steel's melting point and temperatures higher than those of a crematorium, and the gradual confirmation that his mother was gone for good.

She had been entirely devoured by an inexplicable fire, a monster with sharp yellow teeth and sharp yellow claws that fattened up with her flesh and painted yellow the insides of the house and made the windows seem to stare down at them like bright yellow eyes as they waited and waited for the night to end. Sometimes the wind would rise, and a shower of ash would fall on them, but they would not move, just like the first lovers, powerless and transfixed, looking at the flaming swords that would separate them forever from Eden.

The fear that had crept up inside Dean at that moment hadn't left him. It was inhabiting him; it had robbed him of his voice, holding it inside like a hostage. He hadn't uttered a word since that night, he hadn't had a restful sleep since that night. And so, he remembers tossing and turning, then waking up to the sound of faint weeping. He remembers, mouth tightly closed, eyes wide open, walking barefoot down shaded unfamiliar corridors, lured by the cries of his baby brother, to a room also shrouded in shadows, and seeing a pale and noisy bundle through the rail of a portable crib, tiny hands escaping the tight wrapper and grasping nothing, and a black figure sitting in a chair across the room, just watching the baby cry. Standing at the doorway, Dean bloomed in cold sweat. His heart raced wildly, and he couldn’t breathe. He felt the urge to grab little Sam and run away, but the air inside the room was paralyzing and eerie, it felt like a trap, a decoy, the dark silhouette waiting in the corner for something to happen, someone to come. He wished he could scream and call his m-his father, but soon enough the instant of absolute panic gave way to confusion as the shadow sighed heavily and buried his head into his hands just like his father did all the time those days. It was dad, of course it was just dad. Tired sleepless dad. But why wasn't he taking care of little Sammy? He's right over there, dad! You just have to rock him in your arms and sing softly to him, maybe that song mom used to sing about a mommy and her baby, so he’ll r-ah-, but something was off, a scene frozen in the first frame. Dean almost turned around expecting to see his mother walking past him in a hurry to take the baby in her warm arms and scold the callous, indolent dad. John, what are you doing, what's up with you tonight? John, don't you see he's crying out for you? Daddy, what if he burst into flames? What if I burst into flames too? The silence around the crying was thickening by the minute and Dean couldn't stand it any longer. He entered the room heading directly towards the crib, he saw his father straightened up at his presence and raise his hand, he said ‘don’t’ and slammed his mouth shut as if he had just unwittingly admitted to a crime. The two stood still for what seemed like forever, just looking at each other through the mounting sounds of mourning, and Dean thought his father’s eyes were oddly lusterless in the dim light.

Let your baby brother need her. Let us all need her and cry and be hungry.

Dean still couldn’t move or breathe. Cold slowly seeping into him through the soles of his feet. How could his father feel so far away when there seemed to be no air between the two of them? Between the three. It was like all three of them were being pressed together and compressed by the lack of air, vacuum-sealed, petrified and isolated, coalescing into a small, solid stone. Maybe a lump of coal.

Let’s all burn in the need for her. As long as she’s dead.

for @spnyuri's John Winchester Week prompt: Cycles // Grief // Pre-series (Day 1) The title is a reference to The Song of Wandering Aengus, a poem by Yeats about a man infatuated with an otherworldly woman whom he only sees once before she disappears, launching him into an obsessive search to which he devotes his entire life

[cordeliawhohung]

Liquid Smooth [2]

main masterlist | series masterlist

bodyguard!Gaz x fem!model!Reader

he's just doing his job

warnings: break in, cursing, mentions of guns (in a video game), fluff, slight mutual pining? gaz is a fucking gentleman and i'm sobbing. lots of inaccuracies of sorts i'm sure. half awake while editing, apologize for any mistakes.

wc: 3k

Living in a gated community made you feel pretentious, but with someone of your popularity, it was the only place that made you feel safe. With top notch security, and state of the art surveillance, you never once doubted not only your safety, but your privacy. Still, every house for sale was too big and with too many amenities. Big pools, private theaters, and large game rooms were only fun when you had someone to share them with.

And as every tabloid, social media platform, and on occasion your own manager, liked to remind you; you were utterly alone.

Which was the whole idea, wasn't it? If you came home to your large, empty house feeling completely lonely, then the gated community did its job right. You were alone, and that was good.

Until you weren't.

It happened in the dead of night. An ear aching siren sounded sometime shortly after three in the morning, and though the source of the siren was on the bottom floor of the house, you could hear it clear as day from your room on the second floor. It stirred you out of your sleep, and the moment you realized the siren was from your security system, you felt your stomach plummet through the floor.

You sat straight up in bed like the undead rising from their grave, and your hand flew to the nightstand where your phone buzzed. The app that your alarm was connected to was so kindly informing you that there was a potential intruder in your home, as if the intermittent woops of the alarm wasn't informing enough. Though, the system had already contacted the police on your behalf at least.

But that still left you with one problem. You were no longer alone. Suddenly the distance from the entrance of your home to your room felt much too close. Terrified someone would come waltzing in, you hopped out of bed and ran as quietly as you could to lock the small turn lock on your doorknob. The siren still wailed, and you noticed your heart beat with a terrible thunder in your chest.

You were alone, and you really, really, didn't want to be.

Before you knew it, your fingers were tapping away on your phone and you had it pressed against your ear while you listened to the ring as it attempted to connect you. Each ring felt longer than the last, and it wasn't until you stepped away from the door that you realized your knees were shaking.

"Hello?" It was Kyle's voice, and you had never been so happy to hear it in your entire life. There was a certain tone to it that felt like gravel that told you your phone call had just woken him up.

"Hey," you greeted, struggling to get the word out.

Hey? There was an intruder in your home and that was the only word you managed to choke out? Not a help me? But you didn't even have the mental capacity to chastise yourself with everything going on.

"What's that sound? Everything alright?" he asked. You hadn't even answered him and you could already hear some sort of shuffling on his side of the line.

"Oh, well, uhm, the alarm at my house got tripped, so that's like the siren or... yeah, but the police are on their way. I'm sorry, I just, I don't know, I got scared? I think and I just- did I mention the police are already coming?" you said, stumbling over the words.

There was a slight pause on Kyle's side of the call, as if he was contemplating something, before the shuffling on his end continued. Though, you noticed whatever sounds that bled through the speaker seemed quicker.

"Are you safe?" he asked, his voice more alert.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm in, uh, my room and I've, you know, locked the door," you said. Your eyes still glanced around the room, as if you weren't sure that the burglar, murderer, whoever they were, hadn't snuck into the room unnoticed.

"Stay put," Kyle ordered, "and stay on the phone with me, yeah? I'll be there in ten. Cops better beat me there."

Just like he had instructed, you stayed on the line with him. There wasn't much talking to be done, as you were terrified to make any noise lest you led someone undesirable straight to your bedroom door. Every now and then, Kyle would check in and ask how you were doing, to which you'd mumble something or hum just to confirm you weren't keeled over on the floor.

"Almost there, love. You're gonna be alright," he assured you.

The cops did show up before him, but only by a few minutes. You heard the siren finally silence, and the house fell into quietness. Kyle spoke with the officers on scene for a few minutes, but their conversation was much too muffled for you to hear. Either way, the adrenaline was still pooled in your system, and you had to keep wiping the sweat off of the palm of your hands.

"Where's your room?" he asked, voice cutting clearly through the speaker on your phone.

"Up the stairs. Third door on the right," you told him.

"Which stairs?" Kyle asked after a pause.

A laugh left you, and you weren't sure if it was because of his question or your nerves. "Right, uhm, the one on the left."

Not even a minute passed before there was a soft knock on your door. Hanging up the call, you fumbled with the lock on your door before swinging it open. Kyle stood in the hallway as he shoved his phone into the pocket of his sweatpants. Worry was etched deeply into his face as his eyes did a quick look over you as if worried you still might have gotten hurt.

He couldn't even get a single word out before a slight grunt left him. Your arms wrapped around his torso in a tight hug, and you buried the side of your face into his chest. He smelled warm, like something spiced and woody. That warmth only extended further as his arms enveloped you, returning your hug.

"It's alright, I got you," he muttered quietly while resting his chin on the top of your head.

After a quick inspection of your home, it was determined that the only real damage done was to the large window in your living room. The beautiful floor to ceiling glass that you liked to gaze out of in the mornings laid in a shattered mess on the floor. Someone had grabbed a rock from your garden and threw it in what was most likely an attempt to enter your home to rob you. While you didn't think anything was missing, you couldn't be sure until you did inventory. Otherwise, the intruder most likely left as soon as the alarm sounded, damaging nothing more than a window and your sleep.

"Fucking hell," you muttered.

You stood a good few feet away from the broken window, taking care not to step on any of the glass shards. A soft breeze drifted through the living room, cooling your exposed skin. Some cops mulled around as they messed with your security system and gathered any bits of evidence they could. It was a huge relief to realize things were fine, yet you still felt a little gutted. There was something dehumanizing about having your home broken into.

"Sorry you had to go through all this tonight," Kyle said as he stood next to you. "I'm glad things weren't worse."

"Me too," you agreed before you let out a strained chuckle. "To think all this commotion over a broken window. Seems a little silly."

"Well, it's a big window," he teased.

His comment got another chuckle out of you, but this time it was more real, more comfortable. You glanced up at him, but his eyes were focused on something outside. Assessing anything that the cops might have missed, no doubt.

"Do you feel safe staying here?" he suddenly asked. "I imagine it'll take them awhile to clean everything up. Might not have a window for a bit."

You bit the bottom of your lip as you glanced back to the empty void that laid just beyond your house. The shape of your garden was vague and dark in the dim moonlight, and you couldn't even make out the pool to the left. The gated community was mostly cut off from the public, which meant it wasn't like someone would come strolling by and see that you were down a window. Still...

"I'll probably get a hotel or something," you said as you waved your hand like it was no big deal.

"Seriously?" Kyle challenged.

"What, it's not like I'm a stranger to hotels with all the traveling I do for work," you brushed off.

"No, I understand that, but love, it's nearing four in the morning." He paused for a moment to wet his lips before turning his full attention to you. "Could stay at my place, if you'd like."

That was... not what you were expecting out of his mouth. For a moment, you wanted to fight him on it. Staying over at his place was certainly crossing a boundary of some sort. He was your bodyguard, you hired him. But really, he had a point. By the time you fully settled into the hotel, if they would even take you at such an odd hour, you'd be lucky if it was only six in the morning. You'd be wasting time and energy for nothing.

But still...

"Are you sure?" you said, uncertain. "I don't want to intrude, or anything. And don't offer because you feel bad for me or anything, either."

"Hey..." Kyle said while softly reaching his hand to rest on your shoulder. His touch was so warm. Everything about him was warm, from his voice to his scent. You felt your throat grow tight as that familiar feeling of endearment flooded your system. "I'm offering because you've had a shit night, and it's my job to take care of you."

Something told you to resist. It wasn't a bad idea, and you knew it was more realistic than trying to get a hotel. Yet there was something gnawing at you, telling you it wasn't a good idea. It wasn't that you couldn't trust him, but maybe you couldn't trust yourself. Not with the way you found yourself feeling about him after your wardrobe malfunction a few weeks back.

And yet, half an hour later, you found yourself in Kyle's bed. Alone, of course, because he had been nothing but a gentleman to you. Insisted that you slept in his room rather than take the couch, and you quickly found out that arguing with him was futile when it came to how he treated you. He even changed the bedding for you, and though you wouldn't admit it, you were a little bummed about that; not being able to breathe in the scent of him as you fell asleep.

God, you needed to get a grip.

Between the crazy events of that night, and the fact that you were in Kyle's bed, you couldn't sleep. You laid on your back, staring at the vague and darkened features of his bedroom. It was so clean, and not just clean but neat. He was a very organized man. Perhaps he had his military experience to thank for that.

With your restlessness eventually getting the best of you, you slowly slipped out of bed where you wrapped a blanket around your shoulders. With quiet steps, you cracked the door open before slinking off towards the living room where you surprisingly found Kyle awake.

Dull and quiet sounds of gunshots sounded from the TV, which had the volume turned so low it was nearly muted. A controller sat in his hands where he pressed various buttons. You watched him from the hallway for a moment as you took sight of his furrowed brows. Eventually, he let out a quiet sigh before mumbling, "fuckin' pixel peek."

"I thought you'd be asleep," you spoke up softly, making yourself known.

Kyle didn't seem at all surprised to see you standing in the hallway, and he greeted you with a tired smile. The yellow glow of the standing lamp bathed him in a golden light. Fuck, he could have been a model.

"I imagined you'd have a hard time falling asleep after everything. Figured I'd stay awake. Just in case," he explained.

Ignoring the way your heart fluttered at his words, you laughed instead at how predictable you were. Or maybe he was just good at reading people. Either way, he scooted over some on the couch before patting the spot next to him.

"Here. You've earned yourself front row seats to watch me get my ass kicked in this game."

You should have turned around and marched your happy ass back down the hallway and into bed, but you gave into his request (and your secret desire to be closer to him) and took the spot next to him. The TV showed what appeared to be a character selection of sorts. Multiple characters laid out in perfect squares across the screen where he danced the cursor back and forth between a few.

"Pick one," he said, leaning back into the couch.

"Your character?" you asked.

"They're called operators, actually."

You rolled your eyes. "Uhm, Jackal."

As you suggested, Kyle selected the operator, who seemed to be a man with a weird looking half helmet. You thought his chin strap made him look dorky, but judging by his icon, he seemed awfully confident in himself.

"What game is this?" you asked as he equipped his load out.

"Siege," he answered. "Straight shit at it, but it gives me something to do."

You hummed as you watched him load into the game. It was a first person shooter, and judging by all the military tactical stuff, it was certainly army related. Which seemed awfully fitting, actually.

As he waited to load in, Kyle let out a soft yawn before reaching his hands above his head in a stretch. You were about to poke fun at him for being tired, but your words quickly got caught in your throat as you caught sight of the way his shirt pulled up. The toned skin of his stomach peeked in a thin line, and you found your eyes wandering to places they shouldn't.

"What's the goal of the game?" you asked instead. He finally loaded in, and he lowered his arms, saving you from having to look at the eye catching sight of his body.

"Well, we're attacking, so our goal is to go in and diffuse the bomb that the defenders placed somewhere in this house and-"

Kyle was cut off mid sentence when several shots sounded and his operator flopped over on the ground with an over exaggerated groan. He laughed but it quickly turned into a groan as he rested the controller in his lap and rubbed his face with his hands.

"Suppose that's what I get for playing Jackal," he muttered.

"I hope you're a better soldier in real life than you are in this game," you teased.

"No, see, that's not fair," Kyle defended with a grin. "Most terrorists don't spawn peek, and I never magically spawn ten meters away from the target."

You giggled as you settled further into the couch. Your legs were curled up against your side, and you found yourself sinking low enough so that your head rested against the arm rest. You looked akin to a cat. For a couch only one person used, it sure was a comfortable one.

For the rest of the round, the two of you were stuck watching his teammates attempt to locate this bomb. Though you didn't ask for it, Kyle gave you a play by play of everything going on, which you didn't mind at all. Honestly, there was something comforting about his voice and the softness to it. Maybe you were just getting too attached.

"In real life, we'd never take an approach like this," he explained. "In a situation like this, I'd honestly take it from the roofs. Death from above, type thing. And- ouch. Glad I don't have to watch out for Kapkan traps in real life. Now we're in overtime. What operator should I...?"

Kyle's sleepy rambling fell silent as he turned to look at you. Wrapped up in the blanket he gave you, your head rested comfortably against the arm rest as you slouched to the side, eyes closed. Your soft and even breaths caused your shoulders to rise and fall, and a small smile appeared on his lips as he watched you for a short moment.

Disregarding his game, Kyle carefully stood from the couch, not wanting to wake you, and turned his console and TV off. Just in case you woke up, he kept the lamp on, but dimmed it before sitting back on his side of the couch. Even though you were fast asleep, he still refused to sleep in a bed while you were on the couch.

A heavy sigh left him as he propped the side of his head on his hand, glancing at your sleeping form one more time before his own eyes fluttered shut. You took up two thirds of the couch, but that was alright with him. He'd slept on worse. And your comfort was his priority, anyway.

It was his job, after all.

"Sweet dreams, love."

[ginsengkitten]

Cinnamon Girl by gingsengkitten

☆ Slash One-Shot

☆ Angst/Light Fluff

☆ A/N: Thank u to @d3vilstower for the idea! <3

Sorry if this is written jumpy, it’s just a one-shot so :P

☆ Synopsis:

Y/N decides to introduce her secret rockstar boyfriend to her high brow parents, and gets a rude awakening about love, power and corruption.

☆

Y/N didn't mean to make things difficult. She didn't mean to cause trouble. To upheave tradition, cause chaos. It seemed at every turn of her life, given the opportunity for the balanced structure laid out before her by her parents, and their legacy, her heart would lean in the opposite direction. This pattern followed her all her life.

While most people would kill for the wealth and stability that she came from, she would kill to escape it. The soulless, loveless game. Maybe that's why she first fell for Slash. Maybe it was just some silly escape. Or maybe it really was true love. The sleepless nights of stolen kisses, late night drives, the reckless thrill. Her parents would kill her if they knew the extent of their relationship. To them, slash was an invisible figure in her life. "Stacy" she’d tell them when she left the house. She knew lies were easier than the truth. They both knew that. But these days, the love seemed harder and harder to conceal. That's why tonight Y/N and Slash had planned to tell them. Right to their faces. Maybe they'd understand, maybe they'd just think the two were young dumb kids. maybe they'd get a heart attack and drop dead. Whatever the risk, it was one they both were willing to take for this.

-

"You've got this baby. We've got this." Slash gave Y/N a tender lingering kiss on the cheek, he saw her apprehension. She nodded and poked into the den where her parents sat pretentiously in front of the large fireplace.

"Momma, Daddy, I'd like you to meet someone very special to me." Y/N fiddled with her fingertips nervously. The reality was staring her down suddenly as her father looked up from his paper, peering over his spectacles. Y/N ducked around the corner and took Slash out by the hand. It was as if all the air was sucked out of the room in that instant. In that moment, they both knew, this was a mistake.

Her parents suddenly became alert and upright. Maybe Slash should have worn a button up or something? No, she didn't want him to change himself for this. They said nothing and the silence stung. Y/N smiled nervously. "Momma...Daddy.!" She pleaded politely for reply, a "don't be rude!" urgency in her voice.

"What a precarious name that is....slash...hm.."

"Yes he's a very talented musician mama, it's a nickname, all artists have them. In fact, he's in his own band-"

"I know who he is." Her father abruptly cut in. "You know....." He began as he stood up out of his chair. Seemingly towering over everyone in the room as he puffed his cigar- a crude judgmental look pierced through Slash.

He continued. "I met a man in a rock band once....Very curious man. Talented too." He walked slowly over to slash, obviously eyeing him down. "But the poor soul seemed drawn to the wrong crowd...." He came face to face with Slash, almost puffing cigar plume in his face disrespectfully so. ".....I didn't hear from him for years until recently! It was the craziest thing you ever did see. This talented, talented man-MUSICIAN, I see him laid up outside the Kmart off Santa Monica. Begging for two dimes to rub together. Poor sad soul really."

He continued his awful monologue

"I'm a music lover myself, slash. Oh yes. But obviously you know that's no career right? Of course you do!" He gives a boisterous false laugh. Y/N sank into herself completely in shock and horror.

"Daddy! Stop it!" Y/N yelped out angrily. She turned to her mother to look for support but only received an equally blank stare of disapproval. "Slash, it was lovely to meet you dear but I've got a crossword I'll be needing to finish before bed. Best you get going."

Y/N stared her parents down in disbelief at just how arrogant they were being. So cold and so rude. She huffed and grabbed slashes hand and stormed out. "Come on Slash. We're leaving."

"You take that girl out that door I'll have your sorry ass arrested for kidnapping!" Her mother screamed out immediately.

Y/N halted at the threshold. Slash stood on the front porch, waiting for y/n to join him. He looked at her longingly, seeing the hesitation in her eyes. She's just a girl. Could she really walk away like this from everything she knows? "Y/N...?" Slash uttered. Y/N continued her pause. "Slash- I - my uncle - he's the head of police."

"Y/N it doesn't matter!"

"Yes it DOES Slash he could arrest you without proof or anything!!!"

"Y/N please-" slash begged.

"You take that girl one step further I swear to god I'll have your name plastered all over the country!" Her father bellowed out as he followed behind into the the front foyer.

Y/N was torn. She knew the power her family held. They really could have him arrested. They could ruin him. Even over this. She stood in arrest in the doorway. Turning her head back and forth.

"He's TRASH Y/N you will NOT be leaving here with that boy!"

The hesitation confused Slash. To him, the decision was obvious. He didn't understand the extent of which her family could hurt him. Y/N hadn't considered this fact. She thought somehow she could get away with something she wanted like she had in the past. She was spoiled. They did give her what she wanted. Just not this apparently.

"Forget it." He dropped Y/N's hand and backed away slowly in hurt.

"Slash please. Please you don't understand!" She started to cry out.

"You ever show your face here again you'll be sorry." Her father barked out.

"Slash please-" her cry was weaker and defeated. Everything within her gave out. She clutched the door frame in tears as she watched him walk away. He didn't understand. How could he? He didn't know the world of old money and the twisted games of power that came with it. Y/N didn't understand the extent of it either-until tonight. She was in utter disbelief. "How could you?!" She turned to her parents in total anger. "How could you be so cruel?! You don't even know him! What do you know about love?!" She cried out angrily. Suddenly her mother slapped her across the face. Every stood in shock as Y/N held her face distraught. Y/N ran upstairs and locked herself away in her room.

-

It had been a month since she saw Slash. Each time she called, each time she drove by, no answer. Nothing. Was this for the best? Maybe it was best he was protected from her family?

Slash took an impromptu trip to LA, where he would spend the next month drowning in alcohol. Roaming his usual stomping grounds. 'He's TRASH!' Echoed in his head relentlessly. It could not have gone worse. Was that expected for a guy like him? Was this for the best? Maybe she did deserve better? Maybe it was for her own good that he didn't continue to throw off her life plan laid out for her so perfectly. Who was he to intervene in their family? Maybe he just needed to stick to what he knew best....

The two hearts yearning for each-other but the reservations of doubt planted harshly within them from that night kept them apart as designed.

Not hearing from Slash only furthered this doubt for Y/N. Fine, he didn't want to fight for her? Maybe he didn't really love her then....

That mixed with the added affirmations from her parents continued to dig at her. She became a shell. If it couldn't be Slash- then it didn't matter anyways. That's why about two months later, on the evening of her 20th birthday party, when an old family friend, Derek, had asked for her hand in marriage in front of all her friends and family in the ritz and eyes of her parents, she agreed. It was a thrill of a night for everyone except her. She played along but all she could think of was Slash over and over. But she had to let him go. He didn't want her anyways. He didn't fight. He walked away right? That was him. She relayed these white lies to herself daily to soothe her yearning and bring her back to the reality she now faced. Marriage.

Derek was a snobby aristocratic heir to a local fortune. He was semi tolerable and had the money and connections that mattered in a world like theirs. What was love for anyways? Did mother love daddy? Is this just how it worked? How it was supposed to be? Y/N blinked out of her usual trance to find herself perched up on the stand in front of the mirror at the bridal shop. The beautiful white gown falling down around her body.

"You look STUNNING!" All the girls squealed with glee. While they all fell over her, she let out a false grin, but she floated above herself, watching from afar. None of it felt right or real and yet here it was.

And at the exact opportune moment, as she appeared giddy with excitement, surrounded by a parade of women, slash had found himself accidentally watching it from afar through the large store window that displayed the show room. The unfortunate coincidence of timing in which he had decided to return to town. His voice caught in his throat. That solidified reality then and there. Something inside him fell apart completely. He didn't know that Y/N was being married off against her will. At the expense of being homeless and shunned by everyone she knew. That if she had tried to protect him. He didn't know the power struggle that had plagued her all her life. To outsiders it seems to simple. To him, it seemed so intentional. Seemed so.....clear.

-

That wouldn’t be the last time they met. Another month passed by and Slash would find himself stung frozen at the sight of Y/N as she sat perched, alone at the end of the bar. Well past midnight. Slash swallowed his pride at one last chance at her presence before he lost her forever. He sat himself down next to her. She lifted her gaze up and over to meet his face. Both their hearts frozen in time. Every emotion, every look, touch taste- all flooding back in an instant. “Can I buy you a drink?” He asked. Y/N paused for a moment to ponder this offer. Bending boundaries in her head to make this seem okay. What was wrong with two old friends catching a quick drink? “Sure.” She accepted. The silence was thick. With so many things left unsaid, yet neither dared ruin things further with more irrelevant words. “Seen you around town.” He said. She stared forward. “Oh yeah?” She stared onward still, almost too afraid to face him. For if she looked too long, she feared she might feel every thing she’s tried so hard to forget. “Bird said you’re engaged..” he continued. Y/N stood firm but felt nauseous at that statement. “It’s true. I am.” She replied, dead in the throat. She took a swig of her drink. Slash eyed her sallow movements. Silence still heavied between each word.

“Is he good to you?” He almost begged to know. That stung. Y/N turned to face him. Face her fears. Slash never fought for this. He didn’t fight. He didn’t come back. While it would have been a real shit storm if he did, why didn’t he? “Yes, Slash. He is. He’s a gentleman, he’s - he’s diplomatic, he’s-“ slash almost chuckled at Y/N fighting to express her satisfaction for her fiancé. He didn’t buy it. “-and he’s rich-“ slash added. Y/N flustered at slashes jab remark. “Well- I mean- yes but that’s not important.” Y/N defended. Slash scoffed “ Oh please.” He rolled his eyes and sipped his drink. Tears welled in Y/Ns eyes. She knew he saw through her. She felt silly and fake.

“Does he make you laugh?” Slash asked seriously.

Y/N turned back to face him. Tears streaming down her cheeks. “He doesn’t make me cry.”

With that, She stood up, placed a small kiss goodbye on his cheek, and left. There she was-gone once more. Gone forever. It took him every bone in his body to not chase her down. He couldn’t. She didn’t want him anymore remember? Slash clenched his jaw, if he didn’t, his eyes would also well with tears that stung so harshly. He couldn’t allow himself to slip. He couldn’t indulge in his pain. It would be too much.

So he sat, and he sipped.

-

Another week passed and Y/N found herself staring again at the stranger in the mirror before her. Commotion around her, muffled to a high frequency pitch. Staring endlessly into herself. Maybe searching for some sort of understanding of this all. A veil is placed upon her head and she comes to. “Stunning. My stunning daughter.” Her mother teared up at the sight of her daughter on her wedding day. Beauty waterfalled from Y/N at every inch. Everything seeming so perfect, and yet, Y/N could barely muster the energy to stand up. When the soul grieves so deeply, it takes all the ounce of strength from the body. Leaving a lifeless vessel in its wake. A vessel, is what Y/N had become.

She stood, arm linked in her fathers. And suddenly from the dressing room hours earlier, she now felt her feet shuffling forward- down the aisle. Staring ahead. Almost through her husband to be. The crowd rising to her entrance. Light whispers and gasps of endearment. She looked so beautiful and yet, felt so ugly inside. All of this was wrong. With each step she took forward, the urge to collapse became stronger. She held back tears, to which any onlooker could assume were from happiness. The tears fell anyways. They begin streaming mascara down her cheeks. Why did this feel wrong? Why did this feel like she was walking to her grave? She reached to alter to which her father handed her to a prideful Derek. No tears fell from his face, in stark contrast, he couldn’t help but express a look of shock and slight disgust as he saw her face from behind her veil, revealing to all in sight a completely tear and makeup streaked face. “Are you-okay?” He whispered half heartedly. Y/N paused. It was happening again, she was floating outside her body, witnessing it all from above. And suddenly hearing herself shout

“RUN!”

“FUCKING RUN!”

Slashes face appearing in glimmers upon her fiancés face. A shock of lighting shot through her.

“I can’t-“ she whimpers out a dead small mumble. The priest and groom lean inward in a confused look. “Dear, what was that?” The priest requested.

“She’s uh- she’s just got the jitters! Poor girl.” Derek chuckled nervously speaking on her behalf.

“I- I can’t do this.” She repeated louder. Shaking her head she stepped backward. A buzzed confusion beginning to spread like wildfire through the room as the ceremony wasn’t starting.

“Excuse me?” Derek chuckled arrogantly.

“I don’t love you. Derek. I’m sorry. I have to go now.”

The silence of the room broken at the sound of the bouquet hitting the floor. Gasps erupting, but Y/N could only hear or see one thing, slashes face in her mind, and the door to the chapel. Chaos and confusion rips through the chapel, everyone stands at their feet, heads turning as they watched her sprint to the door. Y/N heaving, sobbing, gasping for air. She exited through the large wooden doors and the fresh air almost choked her itself. She let out a breathy laugh/sob/sigh of relief and sorrow. Not even calculating her plan of action, just feeling the sweet release of that room. Of all of this. She continued her way down the hallway, out the main door, sunlight bursting upon her. The air had never felt so cool and calm and crisp. She knew exactly now with full clarity where she needed to be. As she began her journey to what she wanted, she halted in shock to find it no more than feet in front of her. Slash sat parked in his convertible black Buick riviera, smoking on a cigarette. His face expelled equal shock as hers. A mere beat goes by before she catapults herself into the passenger seat.

“Drive!”

-

“Are we considered fugitives?” Y/N asked. Head rested on slashes chest as they slow danced in an empty dive bar off the highway. Her dress still enveloping her frame. Slash laughed and tilted her head up to look at him. “I’m not sure doll. Would you like to be?” He gave an earnest look of jovial seriousness. If that was her wish, so be it. Y/N let out a wide, devious grin and pulled his cigarette from his mouth, taking a puff from it. Slash held her face in his large hands tenderly, about to lean in,

“Yes. I think I’d like that.”

[crmsnmth]

September Sky Chapter Seven, Part 5

"Chris!" Alana shouted at me. "Fuck. Some things never change." She laughed.

"Huh? What? Sorry." I came back to real time, and took a drink of now flat beer.

"So where were you this time?" Alana asked. She asked that question every time she pulled me out of my horrible disassociation. It was her response since high school.

"I'm not sure." I replied back.

"What have you been up to? I haven't really talked to you since you moved out of Oconomowoc."

"Nothing much. Work, and back home."

"I thought you were in school?"

"Nah, I dropped out. Not really the place for me."

"I figured you'd be one to finish it off. Just out of spite, you know?" Alana said, referring to my adolescent urge to shove things in people's faces. And a lot of people told teenage me I'd never amount to much.

"Too many people to deal with. And it was for a useless degree. English Majors always end up teaching. And fuck that." I laughed a little at myself.

"Yeah, but I mean, if your still writing, that degree would look good." Alana poured the last of the pitcher into her cup.

"Don't need a degree to write." I felt I'd had this conversation before. Not long ago. With Erin. I pointed at the empty pitcher, "Next one's on me." I grabbed the pitcher and headed up to the quickly filling bar.

It took a minute but eventually the bartender saw me standing with an empty pitcher. She made her way over, avoiding the two other people behind the bar.

"Refill?" She asked, with a voice that sounded like bubblegum. She was short, at least shorter than me, with dirty blonde hair, pulled into a high pony.

"Whatever those two were drinking," I pointed back to the table.

"I have no idea what that was." She gave me a look of annoyance.

"Fuck it, whatever works." I shrugged. She took the pitcher and walked away towards the taps. I didn't see what she filled it with though. Hey, nobody told me anything so that's what they get.

"Six bucks." She said, placing the plastic container in front of me. I gave her a ten and headed back towards the table.

Chad and Alana were in some kind of animated conversation as I sat down. They did this a lot. Over the past couple years, they had gotten to be pretty close. I poured myself a drink and went back to studying my surroundings.

"I like your shirt," Emma must've finally gotten bored.

"What?" I asked, my brain lagging. I looked down to see what shirt I was even wearing. It was an old "Gummo" t-shirt. A favorite of my pretentious persona.

"Your shirt. It's a good movie." She said. Her voice was quiet and kind of hard to hear with the commotion of an early evening bar crowd. I actually took a look at her. And mousey was still the best way to describe her. She looked small and fragile. It didn't help she was wearing an over sized hoodie that just enveloped her.

"Oh yeah, thanks. It's one of my favorite movies of all time." That's really one of the easiest ways to get an introverted anti-social person to talk. Find their favorite things. Movies and music. Done.

"We watched it in my film studies class." She seemed to speak a little louder. It was easier to hear at least. Maybe I had just tuned into her voice now.

"Oh shit. I might've stuck it out longer if we were gonna watch actual good movies." I laughed.

"You were in film studies?"

[butchtwelfthdoctor]

got carried away writing a book review of the day of the doctor so here u go i guess

the episode itself is. fine I guess. there are some good moments & its fun seeing ten & eleven interact and there's some good angsting etc. like the episode is fairly solid even though it does that typical moffat retroactively-changing-massive-parts-of-canon thing that he liked doing. its not perfect but whatever, there are lots of good bits! The Novelisation. Is. Dare I Say Kinda Bad.

(also I should point out that this is written by steven moffat who was the showrunner and wrote the script for the episode like he should know what he's doing)

it starts off with the doctor narrating in a typical slightly silly pretentious fourth-wall breaking kinda thing and you're like okay this is sort of cool yup very eleven that feel like him. the narration switches between the doctor talking about himself in third person cos a) that's how books work and b) he's just Like That but will slip into first person in select moments to show he's getting caught up in remember events or his feelings and the idea is that you're reading it on psychic paper & it's being beamed into your head telepathically or whatever and that's cool!! that's a good idea!

HOWEVEr. there are three (mainly) versions of the doctor in the book the war doctor the tenth doctor and the eleventh. and YOUD THINK THEY JUST CALL THEM WAR DOCTOR TEN AND ELEVEN like normal people but noooooooo depending on whose pov you're in he gives them all silly nicknames based on how various characters perceive them which is really hard to follow, or just call all of the The Doctor, which is their name yeah but like ??? which one is talking???? you kinda have to guess sometimes??? added to that is that there are shapeshifters in this one so there's another layer of 'is this the real guy or the Copy Guy' as well as BAD WOLF being there (who isn't rose, its bad wolf, but it isn't her either because it's a sentient superweapon that's talking to him that just LOOKS like rose.), there's just all in all a lot of Multiple Versions Of The Same Few People which can be hard to keep track of. like it's just confusing to read sometimes. not too hard even if the endless silly nicknames for ten & eleven get annoying a bit.

and there's a bunch of inconsistencies too (and yes I know I know this is the who needs continuity show) between this and the episode and I guess moffat can do what he likes adapting his own stuff but he kinda missed out some good bits? doesn't even have the 'this is his grunge phase' line and some of the stuff that makes ten and eleven's dynamic so funny but has all these random extra scenes of kate lethbridge-stewart and osgood that are just ?????? we didn't need that there??? it wasn't reeeeally adding anything??? and in the episode ten and eleven cant see bad wolf/rose/the moment ar all but here they see it for a bit?? but like no reaction really from either of them even though ten at LEaST should have had a visceral moment of loss there or something. idk.

and then at the end where there's that curator guy who is tom baker and its kinda I think supposed to be ambiguous as to whether its really four or not or some kind of coincidence but in the book it's like 'ahah! i was really narrating as four all along!' but like how is that even possible sorry I know this is the time travel show but why is he there and what is the implication? i think it's cos 11 says 'oh I could retire and be a curator' and then four is all old n stuff and Is the curator but like???? he regenerated?? is this a ten/fourteen type situation of the far future like a decade before they came up with that and then why is four in 2013??? what?? idk did they just really really want tom baker in it?

and then there's more foreshadowing of peter capaldi as twelve and then ten says 'i don't want to go' again which you're supposed to find sad but is fitted in in the most awkward way possible like. he would not say that no one would have said that sentence just then sorry guys. the ending feels kinda rushed more so in the book cos the narrator (four?? eleven??? is literally Not Paying Attention to the last conversation and then there's a page that says HELP ME over a bunch of tally marks ?????? idk man????? also there's all this stuff in the comedic chapter interlude narration that's referring to 'chapter nine' 'stop trying to find chapter nine' is he just saying 'yeah ok the ninth doctor's not in this one sorry guys'???? i think so??

cos it starts with chapter eight which is the eighth doctor getting regenerated into the war doctor (a soldier in the time war, the very thing he was saying he'd never become) (more of Moffat retrospectively Majorly Altering Canon) which was uhm. quite the scene cos in the episode he chooses it?? but in the book it says he was forced to by the sisterhood of karn???? what???????????? if that's so then why isn't that made Very Clear in the episode???? girl what???? there's lots of references to classic who which is fun but then he goes and says 'oh yeah btw one and two were actually colourblind that's why 1963-69 was in black and white' like okay. that's a slightly stupid writing decision which every other author has managed to ignore because it doesn't matter that they were in black and white cos the show started airing IN THE SIXTIES you can accept the limitations of historical content into canon!! he did the exact same thing in twice upon a time when he made One make sexist jokes so he could point out how progressive the show was Now which actually backfires Majorly because it makes The Doctor sexist instead of making The White British Colonial Men Who Wrote It In 1960s England sexist like ausgnauhgnshansghn CMON! and on that note Why Is This STuff So Sexualised like????? there was no need to say that the doctor found clara pretty, or rose/bad wolf/the moment/whatever, ten ends up marrying queen Elizabeth I which is kinda funny ngl but some of the things eleven says about that! is so weird! and unnecessary! and theres the fuckinhnsaa scene with the comparing the size of the sonic screwdrivers which is SO BAD LIKE YUCKKKK WHAT WHY WOULD YOU PUT THAT IN THERE ITS A FAMILY SHOW DUDE and like all the women at some point have a Comment on their appearance except for maybe kate lethbridge-stewart but idk. ahjsajnsajnsan. ick. and moffat just changes canon around all the time! gallifrey is gone again! but not really! but now it's back for real! the hybrid! (still don't know what was up with that) the impossible girl! mels/melody/river song! why!

and like some of it was so good!! the three doctors who are all the same person but not the same person, and some of the character writing was really really good & the interactions between different regenerations and like i Knew sometimes when ten was speaking cos the way he reacts to his own issues is so predictable (good predictable. like he has A Way He Acts its fascinating) and how they talk to each other (themself) as a representation of what the doctor is always struggling with about the decisions he's made. and i love the 'time lord art is bigger on the inside' bit that's really cool & when the war doctor starts the calculations and then eleven can finish them cos its four hundred years later even though they're in the same room together, like that's cool! moffat understands how to use timey-wimey stuff in the time travel show and he does it very well, a lot more (and better) than russell t davies does. but i watch this episode and think what no i really like this one and then i think about it and There Are Problems!!

anyways. uhm. haha. my favourite show 👍

[crypticcodexcreations]

No Wrong Heroes: Michael Falls

So, I usually do not write out of order for any reason, but I just couldn't get this scene for my newest WIP out of my head the other night and it came out in a way I'm really proud of, so I'm gonna share it. I didn't have it in me to make the formatting any nicer than it is at the moment, so some of the dialogue may be confusing, sorry in advance. It is also about 1,800 words according to Scrivener so also long.

“Stupid pretentious asshole angel runn- OW!” Thor glared as Apollo tightened the bandage on his arm harshly, glaring right back. “I don’t blame Michael for leaving with you two meat heads! Do you have any idea how sick and tired I am of having to patch you two back together after you run head first into whatever enemies you see just because you’ll wake up without a scratch in a few hours?! You two don’t use an ounce of thought and expect us to just put up with it?! Michael and I aren’t your sidekicks! If you had treated him like an equal-“ Hercules snarled, his hands curling into fists. “News flash you little shrimp, he’s the one that had the nerve to act like he was better than us when he left! If you think he’s SO great, you’re welcome to follow him and put HIM back together instead!” Apollo froze, tensing slightly and staring past the other two. Thor groaned. “Great, you made him go space cadet again.” Hercules huffed. “Like any of us know what the hell sets this off you jackass.” Apollo snapped back, shaking his head with tears in his eyes. “We have to go find him!” The other two shook their heads. “Absolutely not.” They both sat firmly on the dirt. Apollo looked between them for a moment before snarling. “Fine! Then fix your own wounds! I won’t let him die!” Apollo took off in a sprint. “Hey! Get back here you fuckhead!” Thor yelled after him, but Hercules snorted. “Let him go. We don’t need him either.” The two ignored the cries of the ravens in the distance.

In all honesty, Apollo didn’t know what he was going to do as he tore through the forest. He wasn’t sure where Michael had gone and he hadn’t figured out any sort of combat abilities. But he knew he had to do something. He finally understood what these visions were. They were the future. He couldn’t ignore Michael’s face on that news report. It had to be him and if he did nothing, that meant Michael would die. He had tuned out the cries of the ravens for the most part, but he recognized the deeper voice of the larger albino one that had kept showing up and his eyes were drawn to the branch it rested on. It called to him once more before taking off. With no hesitation, he ran after it, just hoping that it knew something he didn’t.

Luke was the first to pause. “Wait. Something is wrong.” As soon as he pointed it out, they all looked to the sky, spotting the ravens that circled overhead. Narcissus had never heard any of the animals in this world sound so frantic. As the group came to a stop, the ravens only seemed to sound louder and more desperate. Suddenly, a large white one burst from the trees with Apollo gasping for breath behind it. Luke glared at Apollo. “What do you want with us?” Fenrir put a gentle hand on Luke’s shoulder. “He’s upset. Give him a moment to catch his breath at least.” Apollo shook his head. “No time! Michael! He-“ Apollo could barely speak and Medusa stepped forward. “You have gotta get your breath back.” Apollo looked up at her. “He’ll die!” The group went silent at that. They had all been operating under the assumption that death, much like their wounds, would be undone upon waking. Luke pulled away from Fenrir and pushed past Medusa, standing in Apollo’s face. “You’re sure that it’ll be permanent?” Apollo nodded. “I have… Visions… Of the future. I saw it, I’m sure he’s in danger…” He was slowly getting his breath back. “I saw his death being reported on TV.” Narcissus looked to Medusa and Fenrir. They both looked as worried as he felt. Luke, however, stared Apollo down. “What about Hercules and Thor?” Apollo shook his head. “He left us so they won’t help.” Luke snorted. “And why should we help?” Medusa gasped. “Luke! What the-“ Luke glared at her. “Let him answer.” Apollo shook slightly under Luke’s stare. “I- He doesn’t know. He thinks he’ll come back. I know he’s been nasty to all of you. He- He’s been nasty to us too. But it wouldn’t be right to just leave him to his fate! He deserves to at least know what he’s getting into! If-“ Apollo swallowed. “If you won’t help me, then- Then I’ll do it myself!” Luke snorted. “You would die with him.” Apollo glared. “Better to die with him trying to do the right thing than leave him to die just because I haven’t gotten along with him! I’m in the position to decide whether he lives or dies and I’ve decided I’d rather save him! This isn’t a reasonable consequence for his actions!” Apollo and Luke stared at each other for a few moments before Luke nodded. “We’ll help you.” Apollo swallowed, staring wide-eyed. “Th-thank you. I don’t know how to find him though.” The albino raven cawed from its branch. Luke inclined his head towards it. “Seems she might.” Fenrir scooped Apollo up. “You need rest. I’ll carry you.” Narcissus swallowed nervously. “How do we know we’re not just all going to die now?” Luke turned to him “Because we’re not going to fight a battle we can’t win, just bring that self-righteous prick back long enough that he’ll know what the consequences of his actions will be. After that, I’m not helping him anymore.” Narcissus nodded. “Fair enough. I’m not exactly ready to get killed for the guy who punched me in the face when we first met.” The raven led the way, the five of them hurrying after it. It brought them to the entrance to a cave, the mouth of it swirling in blackness. It cawed frantically but refused to go in. Luke paused. “Alright, we need a plan because we have to all make it out of this, got it? They all nodded in agreement.

As he crashed into the ground, Michael screamed as he felt all of the bones in his left wing snap. He struggled to his feet, glaring at the writhing mass of darkness he could tell was just toying with him. This wasn’t fair! He was a holy angel of the Lord! Why couldn’t he defeat this darkness with ease? He stumbled, trying to account for the way his wing hung limp and useless behind him, trying to keep the blood from trickling into his eyes as well. He found his footing, gripping his word. “I am holy! I will be the hero of this land!” He charged forward with an angry screech. He had to find some way to hurt it, but so far everything he had tried seemed to leave it completely unphased. One of its thrashing limbs slammed into his broken wing, sending him toppling to the ground as he shrieked in pain. It’s tentacle like appendage grabbed his leg and he cried out at the feeling of it crushing the bone beneath the skin. “I will be back as many times as it takes to defeat you!” It lifted him by the leg, a flaming orange eye the size of his entire body materializing from the darkness. The voice that spoke came from everywhere and nowhere at once. “Oh, puny child. Do you not realize meeting your end here means there is no next time? You will not see tomorrow.” He felt his heart freeze for a moment before he was flung into the wall farthest from where he had entered. He scrambled, desperate now to escape, to run, to at least make it out alive. He hadn’t managed to crawl very far when he saw the portal shift and Apollo appeared through it. “No! Leave, you’ll-“ Michael cut off as he felt his own sword pierce through his beaten, battered, and exhausted body. He thought he heard Apollo shout before he collapsed and the cave and all inside it disappeared into blackness.

Suddenly, the blackness faded away and Michael found himself among the softest clouds he had ever seen in his life, his injuries all gone. He paused, coming to grips with the fact that he must have died slowly. And then the sunlight gleamed off of the white marble stairs among the clouds and a sense of peace washed over him. He took a cautious step forward, part of him expecting this to be a trick, for that creature to materialize from nowhere and start tormenting him again. Instead, there was nothing but him and a slow climb up the stairs. At the top, that sense of peace solidified itself as he spotted the huge, practically glowing Gates, just as his family had always told him they would look. He felt tears well up in his eyes as relief washed over him. He had died, but clearly he had done everything right! Heaven was so close! He hurried forward to the Gates, pausing a moment, expecting them to open. When nothing happened, he slowly reached out a hand to grab them. He pulled gently and they didn’t budge. It only took a few moments for him to become frantic, pulling desperately. “Please! Tell me what I did wrong, my Lord! I’ve followed everything I was told!” As the realization that the Gates would not open sank in, he slid to the ground, sobbing on his knees. “Please… I don’t know what I did, but if I am given another chance, I will do everything I can to figure it out… I want to be good… Was it when I was a child?” He rambled about everything he could think of that could have been a sin, sobbing harshly. After a few moments, he realized his tears weren’t the only moisture on his face. The temperature was rising rapidly. “No! Please! I want to be good! Please let me have another chance, Lord!” He sobbed harder, hearing no answer. Suddenly, he felt no sense of ground beneath him and the gates were no longer in his grasp, pulling away from him higher and higher.

“NO!” Michael sat up suddenly, gasping in pain and feeling some of his wounds start to bleed again. Tears spilled as Apollo gently pushed him back onto the bed. “Lay still. I’m doing my best, but your wounds are severe…” Michael looked at him, realizing the bags under his companion’s eyes had deepened. He flinched as Apollo worked to stop his bleeding again. “You’ve exhausted yourself? For me?” Apollo nodded at the question. “Why?” Apollo sighed, pausing a moment. “Because I had a vision of your death. And I realized that no matter how you’ve treated me, I couldn’t stand to have your death on my conscience. If you run off on-“ Michael grabbed his hand, starting to cry. “Thank you, Apollo… I think…” He coughed at the pain throughout his body. Apollo’s face softened for a moment. “You can thank me by resting quietly so I don’t have to use my healing powers too much.” Michael nodded, falling silent. He could do that for the one who would be his salvation.

[uglypastels]

Sorry for anon, but I'm too embarrassed to go 'public'. Just came back from my vacation, and started catching up on NWE -btw: loooooooove it, and I can't stop thinking about it. But that is beside the point for now.

I read some of your posts, and let me tell you- I understand. Not having friends or not fitting in... it sucks.

And probably I should just shut up at this point, because it's not very constructive, but I just spent last 10 days pretty much alone and I have a need to talk (tumblr is my safe place, and I consider a lot of people here my actual family).

I would kill - and I mean really, I would commit a murder to have parents like yours. My mother was abusing me when I was a kid. Took adventage of me when I was a teen, and stole from me when I was an adult. All that while hurting me physically and emotionally - for which I still felt responsible - and thought I actually deserved it. I can't even think about my so-called dad without burtsing in tears.

It took me years of therapy to start healing and go NC. Now, in my late 20ies, I feel like I'm just starting what my peers did when they were in their teens. I have no friends, no family, no support system. No partner.

I went alone for my summer vacation. I live alone. But I am alive! And I'm my own person.

I am free. I am healing.

My point is, I learnt to appreciate small things. I am happy with my crappy apartment. I love my cat. I like my dead-end job. I love my online community of nameless strangers. I am glad to be alive and safe.

Yes, I am jealous reading about people having family, friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, and supportive parents. Or parents taking them for vacation, and just spending time with them. Or even just treating them like actual human beings... (I am also happy for them).

And yes, there is always someone that has it worse. And just because I had it worse doesn't mean your feelings are not valid.

What I'm trying to say is, things change. Things get better.

It may sound pretentious, but if you can figure out a way to be happy about small things you have- your life may feel better.

Just to wrap up with more trauma dump- your mom helps you with ideas for your fic. My mom, showed up drunk to my singing recital and tried stealing somebody's coat, and then puked on my music teacher. She only came because they had free snacks, which she also loaded into her bag (together with the trays they were served at).

Your writing is beyond amazing. May sound cheesy, but you have a rare talent. Storytelling is a gift! And you just got it!

You are smart, funny, you are loved. You are also very young and have so much time to experience all the things you are missing now.

Not sure where I'm going with it... but what I'm trying to say. I feel like what you wrote is relateble

And I've been there. Still am there.

So... thank you for opening up. You are not alone. Things change. Life is surprising.

Hope I didn't upset you- I meant well.

XOXO

i know i am still quite fortunate and privileged with my situation and my family, but there is also so much that i do not share and that i do not want to share on here, despite this being my safe space to rant and cry and yell whatever i feel. i have gone through shit and am still going through it, and only share so much of my day-to-day life with everyone here, and even with what i know of myself I'm sure there are people who have (had) it worse. but like you said, that does not invalidate my own experiences.

i appreciate your kind words and the sentiment of what you wanted to say, but this trauma-dumping trying to compare people's situations (or at least in the way that it comes across as comparing it) is not the way to go about it.

[gccdstories]

//alternative idea for why Rhys didn't want Xia and Azzy to get together? At least for awhile he had a thing for her? And at some point saw her as "whore" or whatever he thinks about her? But ahhh they hate each other so sexual tension???? Very early in the war! Like just started//

They she to work together and maybe he was just being as childish as she was. But this war and he was so fucking tired of whatever this was.

"Why do you hate me?"

Hypaxia looked up from the book she'd been reading. Her tent was cozy, a small fire, an actual chair where she sat curled reading.

Her green eyes dark as she looked to him. She untangled herself from the chair moving to pour two drinks.

"Did you hear me Hypaxia. Ignoring me won't make me -"

"Here. You saw me pour it right? So it's not poisoned."

She held her own drink, she looked to him. She didn't wear the Illyarian leathers this late tonight. Maybe he should have come to her tent in the morning. Maybe he should be a gentleman about this. But she got under his skin and he wanted this solved -

She set her glass down, empty now. She leaned roward him over the small table.

"I hate you because you're egotistical, arrogant, asshole. I hate you because you broke my best friend's heart..."

She looked away, her cheeks heating. He focused on his glass, nursing it.

"I would have probably done the same. If someone took my brothers...their family line would be ashes."

"Did you ever explain that to her?"

Hypaxia rubbed at her face, watching him. His violet eyes dark almost black in the shadows. He wore simple clothes in black, silver stitching denoting his rank. She couldn't find the energy to roll her eyes.

Did he have to dress like a noble even here?

Pretentious prick.

She shrugged, drumming her fingers on the table. She didn't reach for the bottle, it would probably be a bad idea.

"I tried when she'd come down...you know how Tisiphone is. She sees everything in black and white. She'll understand, hopefully not because she loses someone she loves but..."

She trailed off, shrugging. She turned, feeling him at her back. She turned, looking up at him.

His fingers ran along her hand on the table. Her eyes closed briefly before opening. Whatever was happening couldn't be good.

She slid her hand away, rubbing at her eyes.

"You should go Rhysand. I - I can't do that to her. I'm sorry."

"Do you want to?"

She stiffened, looking up at him. Really taking him in. He wasn't the snotty brat who had cried that first in Windhaven. He wasn't the boy who used to prank her, whatever this was. This tension, she stepped back.

She wanted to lie, but she didn't do that. Lies lead to bad things.

She wouldn't lie.

"You should go."

It wasn't a denial, Rhysand noted. The way she looked away, stepped back-- She urged him to go, but did she really want him to? He took a step towards her, even as Hypaxia had stepped back.

Closing what distance she had created.

❝ Perhaps I should, ❞ he said softly, Rhysand's voice a mere whisper. He stood mere inches from her, eyes dark as they looked down and met Hypaxia's gaze. ❝ But this isn't about what I should do, Hypaxia... ❞

He smirked. ❝ It's about what you want. What I want... ❞

@siderealxmelody

[residentraccoon]

Thoughts on this absolutely exquisite night of national finals below (warning I might sound like a whiny spoilt little girl but who cares)

You can call me pretentious, or that I sound like a 70 y/o that does not understand why all these mainstream pop songs are so popular at the moment and does not get the hype with other trendy stuff such as tiktok (no, I don't have it, and probably won't plan on getting it any time soon), but you really have no idea how gut wrenching this night had been lmao

I was already used to the fact that my favorites almost never win national finals, but at least there were one or two per night that made it. This night? None. Even if I didn't pay that much attention to it.

Let's take them by order, shall we?

Estonia had my favorite rock song in a while, Venom, which I dismissed at first for some reason. While I knew from the start when I listened to the lineup of Eesti Laul that Alika will win, it was still kinda dissapointing. It's probably my favorite of the night but I'm still not quite that attached to it. It builds up nicely, then that's it. And it feels like she sings with no passion. Still, the vocals are great, she has good control on her voice. The instrumental is very pretty. Maybe yeah, I can see myself ranking this high in my top. Moving on

Denmark, sIGH oh my god. There are only a few songs in this mumbly and breathy style of singing that I tolerate, and this is not one of them. His voice sounds pretty whiny to the point that I can't listen to it whole. Nicklas had such an entertaining dad rock and the two girls' song was so calming, the message added a bittersweet tone to the song. This? I can only listen to it for one minute. Or maybe this kind of indie semi-singing style is not for me. Idk I'm trying to be positive but I can't.

Romania, I'll try my best to not be too critical. Perinita had everything. Folk sound, stage show, they even changed the folklore parts that sounded similar with the original song. I admit, during the auditions Andrei grew on me. A lot. I could see him winning the nf. But that staging was. Not it. You will call me a purist, I don't care, but that dude is basically barely legal, yet he had women on stage that were more than half naked, with freaking straps around them which came across as extremely creepy to me. I might be alone in thinking this. If he kept the staging dark or whatever, sorta like his audition version I might have been more content with him winning. His make love not war thing came off as tryhard, though, we didn't need that. At least it's in romanian. And as a bonus, the hype for Aledaida and her shitty striptease club banger uwu drove me up a wall. Sorry for bringing it again but holy fuck was that annoying. It had the worst fans out there.

Latvia, along with Estonia, actually chose well. It was tied with Patrisha for me but in the end I would have been okay with both. I like their song. Hope Latvia will make it back in the finals this year. They deserve it.

Idk man, I feel like people love to swarm around these basic pop songs like ants because yasss queen slay delivered (insert country's capital) 2024 she aaateeeeee 💅👌✨ or mumbly 9th grader who just discovered Billie Eilish is rElAtAbLE yay deppreshun is what matters now in music. Nobody actually seems to pay attention to anything other than pop or that has a good message or is heading towards a different sound than what you normally hear being pOpUlAr these days. Or maybe it's just me being dramatic and flaunting that my tastes are uncommon and nobody understands my music taste boohoo

Anyway, that's it with this rant, I even contemplated for a while if I should bother watching esc this year but of course I will because it's literally my life and soul at this point. I can't say the same about national final season. I don't think I'll touch it with a 3 meters pole after this year, I'd rather listen to the selected songs after they're chosen, thanks. Honestly I find it extremely hard to choose a song that I genuinely love so far. Last year I had Moldova, France, Iceland, this year? Well, I think it's still too early to tell. Will wait and see and maybe I'll find a song to root for. But for the time being, I think I have said enough. Brb I'm going back to listening to all those boring old eurovision classics such as Net als toen on full volume to forget about the dissapointment of today.

[stuckysdaughter]

Ben Barnes Secret Santa 2021

Summary: My Secret Santa gift for all-art-is-quite-useless! An enemies to lovers with the wonderful Billy Russo!

TW: light smut, 18+, some cursing, mentions of blood, injuries, mentions of guns/shooting

Tagging: @the-purity-pen @all-art-is-quite-useless @rachlovesactors @eginv-blog @my-day6

------

You and Billy Russo really don't get along, no not at all. He rubbed you the wrong way, and vice versa. You didn't understand how Frank could put up with him. Alright, you understood that there was a special bond between the Marines. But that doesn't mean you have to have the same connection!

******

You met at Karen’s birthday party. She was one of your oldest friends, dating back to sophomore year in high school. You wouldn't have missed this day for the world.

"Y/N, c'mere, I want you to meet someone!"

"Comin'," you shouted back from the kitchen where you were refilling your glass.

You saw a man standing by her, and you knew this was another attempt for a setup. Karen had been trying to set you up with her friends or Frank's friends since your last breakup, and the last one was a horrible disaster. You had a sinking feeling this one would be too.

The man had dark hair, styled to perfection. It had to be, since he was the only one wearing a suit, pretentious ass. He turned around to face you, and you were met with pitch black eyes.

"Y/N, this is Billy. Billy, this is my best friend Y/N."

He flashed you a charming smirk, and you instantly remembered all the stories you were told about him. His way with the girls and the speed at which he went through them. No way, uh uh.

"Pleasure to meet you, Y/N."

"You as well, Billy. But sorry, not gonna happen."

His face contorted into shock and then anger, "Excuse me?"

"Karen is clearly trying to set me up with you. I've heard all the stories, I know how you are with the women you're with if you can even call it that. So sorry, but no thanks."

Karen looked uncomfortable, and you knew you were right. She tried to set you up and you tossed out that idea at first glance. Karen also knew about Billy's temper, which was only rivaled by your own. She slowly backed away from you both, and silently excused herself.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what I did to solicit this, but I assure you whatever it is, it's wrong."

"Oh really?" You were just adding fuel to the fire now, egged on by his growing anger. "So the stories about all the one night stands aren't true? Or how you were with that Agent Madani until she got in your way?"

His jaw clenched, and a muscle in his cheek twitched. "Well then, sweetheart," he leered at you, "Let me tell you all the things I've heard about you."

Oh, shit.

"Is it true that your longest relationship was a year? And that you broke it off because you couldn't stand him any longer? Or is that just a lie because I'm pretty sure if I were him, I'd leave as fast as I could."

His smirk grew as he watched you stew in anger. You weren't going to make a scene, not now, not on your best friend's birthday. But you sure as hell couldn't be around this asshole anymore. Shaking with pent up hatred, you left him there, and found some of your other friends to talk to.

******

You ran into each other a few more times the following weeks. Each time neither of you spoke to each other unless you had to, followed by some sort of jab. It became a game of yours, to see who got the last word. Your friends were getting tired of it, because they could clearly see you were attracted to each other. You weren't going to deny him his looks, he was admittedly a handsome man. But, you weren't going to fall for his charms and his lies, not like those other girls.

This time, however, was different. It was late evening, and you were about to turn in for the night. You put on your pajamas, and wiped off the light makeup you wore. As you were finishing your nightly routine, the doorbell rang. You weren't expecting any visitors, especially not at this hour, so you grabbed the baseball bat you kept close by just in case. Looking through the peephole of your door, you saw it was Billy.

What the fuck, what is he doing here?

Then you got a closer look at him, and how he was leaning to one side. You noted his ruffled hair as you opened the door, and you saw the blood streaming down his leg.

"Oh my God, Billy, are you alright? Get in here, let me look at that."

You ushered him into your apartment, and you saw he was limping, favoring his left leg. You led him to the bathroom, and turned around as he slowly cut his dark trousers for you to get better access.

You saw the bullet wound and you fought the urge to puke. It looked like he had managed to take the bullet out, but stopped after that. You were by no means a doctor, but you knew it at least needed to be cleaned and wrapped.

You grabbed the nearest thing of gauze bandages, and a ratty washcloth. You dampened the cloth with water from the sink, and started cleaning the area around the wound. Once you could see what you were looking at, you realized it wasn't as bad as you originally thought. It was in the meat of his leg, but it didn't appear to have hit anything important. It was also done bleeding, except for the occasional dribble. When you were sure that it was sufficiently cleaned, you wrapped his leg with gauze and taped it.

"There. I still suggest you go to the hospital and get it looked at, but I guess this will do for now." You looked at him, and said, "I suppose I don't want to know how you got this, correct?"

Billy just sighed, and looked down at the floor. "I don't think you do, no. I'm sorry to just show up here, but your place was the closest."

"Don't apologize," You leaned back against the wall. "Being a nurse wasn't on my list for today, but I'm glad I could help." There was a moment of silence before you spoke up again. "That doesn't mean we're friends, just to be clear."

He laughed, and a grin rose to his face. A genuine grin, one you'd only ever seen him give to Frank and Karen. "Wouldn't dream of it, princess."

******

After that day, something between the two of you changed. It was still tense, but in a different way. Like you both wanted to say something, but was holding back. You still fought at every chance, but it was lighter, less fierce. You weren't sure what exactly brought on this change, but you knew it had something to do with that night.

Frank and Karen were just waiting for the two of you to admit how you felt. They knew you were perfect for each other, they just didn't plan on how stubborn you'd be. This time they'd get you together, once and for all. They invited you both over to their place for dinner, hoping that this time you'd finally say something.

It was near the end of the night that you had a moment alone. The couple went to wash dishes, and you and Billy went to the living room to sit and wait for them. You shared the small couch, your legs just barely touching.

"Y/N-"

"Billy-" You laughed, and turned to face the man. "You first."

"Ok," he paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "Y/N, there's something I've been meaning to say for a while now, I just didn't know how to tell you."

"Ok..."

"I really like you, Y/N. I don't really know what this is," he gestured between the two of you, "But I'd really like to take you out sometime. If you'll let me, that is. I know how you feel about my personal life."

You were shocked, unable to form any words. But stronger than that was your pure joy at what Billy just said. It made what you were about to say so much easier.

"Billy, I don't know what this is either. But what I do know, is that I really like you too. I'd be honored if you'd go out with me."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really."

Billy wasted no time, pulling you close into a kiss. His hands cupped your face, as your own wrapped around his neck. He pulled you onto his lap, and his hands went up the back of your shirt.

"Wait, wait," You pulled away for a moment. "We're still at Frank's place."

Billy blushed a deep red, as he seemed to grow more aware of his surroundings. "Right, yeah we are."

You quirked an eyebrow as you met his dark gaze. "My place?"

******

You kicked the door closed with your heel as you stumbled into the room. You had made your hasty goodbyes, missing the look the pair flashed each other. Now that you reached your apartment, his lips were once again on yours. It felt like you were on fire, warmth spreading throughout your body.

You reached the bed in no time, excited for the pleasure that awaited you both. Clothes were flying everywhere, off faster than you thought possible. You both climbed on, and you went to lower yourself to press your lips to his hardened length. He stopped you before you could, though.

“Ah ah, princess. Tonight is all about you. Come here.”

He motioned you over to him, and grabbed hold of your hips to pull you close. You were sitting on his lap now, and you could feel his erection throbbing beneath you. He kissed you with a passion you had never felt before, and it took your breath away. He pulled away, and drew his attention to your breasts. He took one into his mouth, and massaged the other with his hand. Billy took extra care to give equal attention to both, not wanting you to feel slighted by his affections.

When he was satisfied with his work there, he pressed feather light kisses in a trail down your stomach. As he kissed your body, he lowered his own, until he was lying underneath you. You were already wet with anticipation, and when Billy saw he gave a wolfish grin.

“So wet for me, already, princess?” He licked along your slit, gathering some of your juices on his tongue. “You taste so good, darling. So sweet."

Your lover continued his ministrations, and you were so lost in the pleasure already. He had just barely started and you were already so close. Billy tightened his grip on your hips to keep you steady above his face. Once you were situated, he swirled his tongue around your bud before plunging it into your cunt. His tongue found the right spot with the ease coming only from years of practice. You cried out in ecstasy, Billy moaning at the sound. Your hands were tangling in his hair, urging him on.

He picked up the pace, going faster and harder. He took out his tongue, and quickly placed his lips on your fold. He sucked on it like he needed it to survive, and you knew you were close.

“Fuck, Billy… I-I’m gonna…”

“Let go, Y/N. Cum for me.”

You released on the spot, Billy lapping up your juices, not losing a drop. He worked you through your high, helping you come down from it, until you were panting big heavy breaths.

Billy sat up, and wiped his chin with the back of his hand. Your cum was down his face, but he still licked his fingers clean with each swipe. He met your eyes as he finished sucking on his fingers, and you rushed over to claim his lips with yours. You could taste the remnants that were on his lips.

He pushed you onto your back, and lined himself up with your entrance. With one thrust, he was seated all the way in you. You nodded your head quickly, letting him know you were ok to continue. He then started moving inside you, soaking up the moans that were slipping past your lips. Faster and faster he went, and you once again felt your arousal approaching.

"Ohh, Billy..."

"Fuck, Y/N..."

Within moments, you both were coming, highs overtaking you. He pulled out of you, and flopped down beside you. Panting heavily, he pulled you close to him so your head could rest on his chest. Billy pressed a light kiss to your hair, and gently ran his hand through it.

"Billy?"

He looked down at you the best he could. "Yes, Y/N?"

"This isn't like the stories I've heard about you, right? I didn't just become another notch in the bedpost?"

His answer came quick. "No, darling, no. I want to keep seeing you, keep doing this. As long as you'll let me."

You smiled, and curled back into his chest, content for the first time in a long while. You really hated that damn Billy Russo. But you also loved him with your whole heart, the same way that he loved you in return.

------

THE END

Author's Notes: Happy Holidays, everyone! I hope you liked this fic, I spent a lot of time on it. It was harder to get the reader's voice on this one, since I don't naturally pick fights with people like that haha. And I am not a nurse, so please don’t quote me on how to clean wounds like that. I used the almighty google, but again, I’m not a nurse. But, I am proud of this one, and I hope you all enjoyed it. I hope you enjoyed your gift, @all-art-is-quite-useless! I tried to follow your requests as close as possible. Let me know if anyone wants to be added to the taglist, or if anyone wants me to write something specific. Requests are open, I've got one or two going at the moment, but more are always welcome. Happy Holidays, everyone, and enjoy the rest of the 2021 Secret Santa Celebrations!!

[sunnywritesstuff34]

Illusions

(Yayyyy. Another one. It’s been a while, sorry. just wanna preface this by saying that like... I usually don’t really give a shit about Obito, but I figured this was a natural progression of the story and I kinda wanted to try and dive into Obito’s psyche a little so. here we go. tell me what you think. @ghostjellyfishheart here’s the next chapter lol. pls mind the tw’s)

TW and CW for: MAJOR UNREALITY, seriously stay safe, Obito is kinda spiraling a lot, grieving, struggling with morality, drinking, alcohol, less then stellar coping mechanisms of all kinds, don’t do this kids, child death, ghost child, dead kid, you don’t like... see her die but Rin is very much not alive, references to suicide, implied suicide, the uchiha massacre is its own warning, murder, its bad. its just. its just bad. did I mention unreality? a lot of that, death of a family member, obito is having a hard time with feelings, probably dis@ssociation, pretentious symbolism, scratch that, definitely dis@ssociation

Obito Uchiha is upset. 

And that is, frankly, ridiculous. Obito does not get upset. What does upset even mean? Is he sad? Mourning, perhaps? Or is he just worried? Either way, its borderline impossible. He shouldn’t be feeling anything. Obito doesn’t feel anything. Sure, he plays at it, when he’s Tobi. He feigns and pretends, he’s good at that. That is what he is, that is all he is. To Itachi, he is Madara. To Konan and Nagito, he is Obito. To everyone else, he is Tobi. Obito has taken on mask after mask after mask on in his life, both figuratively and literally. Sometimes he doesn't know where Obito ends and another begins. Obito does not feel anything, not for anyone that isn't Rin. Never for anyone that isn't Rin, and he left her behind a long time ago. And yet this boy, this child, has him reeling somehow. Has him… well, like before, the only word he can use is upset. He is rattled. And it has been so long, so long since he’s felt anything at all, that he doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know how to fix it. He kept seeing Sasuke in his head, kept remembering memories from years ago when he thought about the kid being gone forever. He remembered the first few years Itachi brought Sasuke to the compound, he remembered spontaneously discovering his obsession with tomatoes by accident with Kisame (who would not stop laughing. He had just never seen anybody. Put an entire tomato in their mouth. And Sasuke did it like it was the most natural thing in the world! Kisame wouldn't shut up about it for at least a week). He remembered helping the boy train with his newly forged chokuto, he remembered the grim determination towards his family and how much it reminded Obito of himself, he remembered all of it. And none of that should have mattered, because it wasn't real. None of it was real, the next world would be. The next world with Rin and Kakashi and Minato-sensei still alive, a world without… without Sasuke. Or any of the other Akatsuki. And that was what he wanted. He was sure that was what he wanted. Only in his room could he show the weakness tightly coiled in his stomach. But there was a knock on his door and it made him straighten up, instantly putting the mask that he just took off back on his face. He walked to the door and opened it, only to find the older Uchiha brother staring back at him. Obito blinked. 

“Itachi-san. What are you… what are you doing here? I- uh… come in.” Obito and Itachi sat down at the small table in Obito’s room and stared at each other awkwardly. “So… how can I help you?” Obito tried to ask, unsure of whether to say it like Tobi or just let his guard down and talk like himself (whoever that was). Itachi cleared his throat. 

“You are the only person in this godforsaken place that has sake that's worth a damn,” Itachi explained calmly. He looked away. “It has… been a long week.” Obito could tell the truth in that statement just from his cousin’s voice. Itachi sounded exhausted, and the perpetual mask of indifference had begun to slip when his little brother went missing. The two of them looked at each other and came to an understanding. For the next few minutes, there was no talking. Obito grabbed some glasses and poured his strongest sake out for the both of them, and they drank in silence. They only actually picked up a conversation once they were both drunk enough for the awkwardness to melt away. 

“He’s likely not dead,” Obito commented bluntly. Itachi only sighed. 

“If he is, I have no idea what I'd do,” Itachi grumbled casually, like it was an ordinary thing to say. “Certainly wouldn't stick around here. Probably follow in Shisui’s footsteps.” Obito only nodded, knowing better than to pry on that particular bit of insight into Itachi’s life. They were silent for a few more minutes before Obito spoke again. 

“The massacre,” Obito started. “I was long gone by the time it happened. What… are you and Sasuke really the only survivors as the rumors say?” Itachi nodded, throwing back another glass. Obito thought about that bitterly, about his grandmother who wouldn't have been spared. Itachi sighed. 

“Right. I've never really talked about this with anyone, and Sasuke and I don't speak about it much. You know how sharingan awakening works, yes?” Obito nodded, mind involuntarily flashing to his own experience. 

“Well I made some genuine friends on my genin team. It was the first time I ever had any friends.” Obito closed his eyes and took another sip. Friends, sharingan awakening. Being crushed under a boulder with your crying teammates looming over you. Thinking, no, don't cry, it doesn't hurt. It really doesn't hurt. I can't feel anything, please don't cry. Watching a particular white haired individual (a traitor, that traitor) desperately try to save you. Losing a part of yourself, a part of yourself you didn't even know you had, and giving it to someone else. Forever living with that, knowing that your other eye is somewhere, because you can still feel it, but not knowing much else. The aching absence that grows from that. He opened his eyes again. “I watched them die, right in front of my eyes. That awakened my Sharingan, and when I went home, my father congratulated me. He congratulated me. It was a nightmare and he was proud. I don't know, that always stuck with me. But anyway,” Itachi paused to drink more sake as the room spun. “Sasuke’s eyes woke during the massacre. I didn't get there in time. He watched our parents die, managed to hide in the closet and keep quiet the whole time so they didn't find him. I got there in time to stop them from killing him, and realized his sharingan had awakened because of everything. I wasn't able to save anyone, but I was able to save him, and that's all that matters.”

“I understand,” Obito replied evenly. “I know what it's like to be too late.”

Itachi’s eyes slid over to him. “Yeah well… whatever. The Uchiha had been planning a coup for a while. Danzo, he gave me a choice. Either kill everyone myself and have Sasuke be spared to live happily in the village. Or, to let them kill everyone, Sasuke included. I didn't… I refused either option and tried to get there but I was too late. They killed everyone in one night, a bunch of Anbu who were deployed for the massacre. Like I said, Sasuke managed to hide. I knew that Danzo would be after us, so I grabbed Sasuke and we got the hell out of dodge. He didn't speak for months afterwards. Not a single word, other than screaming during his nightmares. It was probably a little selfish, but I… I missed him. There was no more ‘Itachi, look at the score I got at the academy!’ or ‘Itachi look, look I learned a new move!’ There was just… nothing. He was so vacant. If he's dead- if he’s dead after everything we’ve been through, I don't- I have no idea what I'll do. We have to find him, and we have to kill the people who took him away from us. We have to.” I know, he wanted to shout. I know, I feel the same way, but I don't know why! Itachi left not long after that, stumbled back to his room, and Obito fell asleep in his armchair. That night he had a dream, a dream of Rin. it had been years since he dreamed of her, usually they were memories and bits and pieces, but this was different. He opened his eyes in his dream to a dark plane filled with ink, darkness stretching in every direction. It was a frequent setting he found himself in, usually the dream would be about him sinking into the oily substance until he couldn't breath. But this time it was low enough to wade in, his feet touching the ground, whatever that was. In the middle of the expanse, there was a bone white skeleton of some creature he didn't recognize, and Rin. He staggered towards her, and she hugged him without a word. In dreams like this he was always covered in blood, the Obito from years past. But now he was just him, and he was maskless.

“Just what have you gotten yourself into now, Obito?” she asked, and it sounded just like her. It wasn't her, he was fairly sure of that, he was dreaming for god’s sake, but it sounded like her. It seemed like her, and that was enough. “It's okay to be worried about the kid,” she said, running fingers through his hair while he tried to calm his breathing. 

“It's not real,” he managed hoarsely. “None of it. Nothing in this world is real, I shouldn't feel anything. So why… Why do I…”

“Does it matter if it's real?” she asked. “It feels real. Maybe it is, Obito.”

“Obito is dead,” he whispered. “At least the one you knew- Obito doesn't exist anymore.” Rin only shook her head, looking past him at nothing at all and smiling sadly.

“I don't believe you,” she said evenly. “You're still Obito. No matter how many names you take or how many masks you wear, I know who you are. And I think you do too.”

“It's not real,” he tried again, weakly. 

“If it's not real, then why do you help Konan with the dishes? If it's not real, then why do you want to save Itachi’s brother so badly? Why do you make plans for Nagato’s dream in the supposed next world when you don't have to? Why do you stick around Deidara to make sure he doesn't get killed? Why do you help Sasori with his puppets? Why, Obito?”

“I can't be Obito,” he muttered quietly. “He’s dead. He died with you.”

“He is right here. He is sitting here with me. You're still you. You'll always be you.”

“B-But…. But Madara-”

“Madara is dead,” she said with finality, shaking her head. “Madara is a dead man now. You are the only thing that can bring him back, and you have a choice.”

“I've never had a choice.”

“You do now. Madara isn't here.”

“This is all just an illusion.” She smiled sadly. 

“I'm an illusion, Obito. Your world is not.”

His dream didn't fade out from there. One second he was sitting in a dark dreamscape with his dead friend, and the next he was in the Akatsuki lair, laying in an armchair, sitting up and gasping for breath. His back hurt and his neck was aching from the weird position he dozed off in, and Obito could already feel the nausea of an inevitable hangover coming on. Still, he sat up properly, stretching his neck and running a hand through his short hair. Itachi was probably passed out in his room or throwing up already, and Obito had a hunch that he’d be feeling the same way pretty soon. He looked down at the floor and forced his eyes to focus. He didn't have time for a drunken hallucination within a drunken hallucination. But when he turned his head, he felt himself recoil and raise his hands to his face. The orange plastic from the ground winked back at him. Obito had taken his mask off. And now it was cracked. 

[batsforbadones]

MORE STU SMUT MORE STU SMUT MORE STU SMUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! pwease :3 💕

!!!!! I’ll try my best! This movie, which i have watched on multiple occasions and still fail to grasp not only the plot but the characters, haunts me to no end.

This one will be x fem but if any of you want me to write something else, I’m down for that. Sorry if this seems rushed.

Music, specifically songs, didn’t need a name. The idea that they did, that a name said all you needed to know about a song, you found pretentious. Other than it being a word the song said occasionally, or it’s method of music ( See : Symphony- Quartet- Choir- Hymn ) the idea that a name held that much weight was ridiculous to you.

Although you wouldn’t necessarily describe the man as a song - he was more or less a violent crash against a drum set, or maybe an extremely out of tune guitar - He still didn’t need a name. Even if you wanted one, you didn’t ask. That formality was thrown out of the window when he threw himself in through yours, covered in bright red paint, and introduced himself as ‘Just some guy. On the run from the cops. You?‘

That was a great question, you had thought. Your only means of response was a shrug. ‘Some chick, harboring a fugitive, I guess.‘ He found that funny, the guy. He let out a tiny, breathy chuckle, grabbing his chest as if that was some form of assurance. He reached behind him, not breaking eye contact as he slowly closed your window, leaving two, splotchy, long red hand prints on the white frame. He turned, took a last glance through it, and then slowly closed your curtains.

He turned back to you, smiling wide, eyes squinted.

“ Hey, some chick, mind if I- “ He gritted his teeth together and pointed to the floor.

“ Crash? “

“ Yes. “ He said, smile returning. He grasped his hands together, pressing his face into a pout to beg properly. You gave him a once over. The red stained, over sized, lime green polo set off plenty of red flags, and, at first, you didn't over look them.

“ I don’t know man. “ You mumbled. Though he looked sweet, and the prospect of such a thrill excited you beyond belief, you weren’t stupid. “ You could be like- a killer. “

“ Not yet. “

“ Do you have plans to be? “ He snorted, waving down.

“ Yeah, but like, who doesn’t? “ That was a fair point, you realized. And despite how serious your gut told you he was, it yearned him a spot on your floor atop your Polly pocket blanket. The spray paint had dried, he assured you. Which it had. Polly stayed pink and pretty despite the boy's- grime. He would look odd clean, though. You knew that right away.

That was a defining feature to the guy. His willingness to not only get, but stay filthy. He was just like that, you'd come to find. That night was only the first in the long string of times he snuck into your house, asking for refugee from whatever he'd manage to piss off that day.

The excuses were always ridiculous. At all times were they over the top and clearly lies. He had a spot on your floor regardless. It became a running gag to ask why he was breaking in, to which he'd always respond with something completely absurd.

' My friend Billy is gonna fucking stab me. ' You believed that full heartedly. 

' I accidentally came inside my girlfriend. She gave my this black eye. ' He had the black eye to back that one up.

One night you had asked the question, and he just smiled big and wide like he always did, sitting down on your bed like a father about to tuck you in. He leaned real close to you, pressing his thumb into the center of your chest, right between your breasts. You stayed silent, looking down at his hand.

" I was going to lie and act like a couple of dogs with like, mega rabies were chasing me, but honestly I'm just really horny. " He explained. He flattened his palm against your chest, which is when you noticed he was shaking. " I thought you could help with that. "

" Don't you have a girlfriend? "

" Not anymore. " There was a slight shift in his eyes. Like it was a lie, but- not a normal one. Against better judgement, you took his word for it. " Then yeah. I can help with it. " There it was. That big, goofy grin, the widest you had ever seen it, in fact. He knew the effect it had on you, as his hand was sliding down to your stomach to poke at it. " You can? " " Yes. " " Are you sure you can? " " Are you doubting me, window boy? " " Window boy! That's a new one. I've heard creep, heathen, criminal, hooligan, delinquent- " He prattled, " But window boy? " He scoffed. " Don't bully me, now. " " You'd probably be into it if I did. " " You're not wrong, but still- " " Oh, I'm not wrong? " You asked, " Do you want me to keep calling you window boy while we fuck? " A deeply satisfied look crept onto his face along side a heavy blush. " How about, " He took your hand, bringing it up to his scalp. Your fingers latched onto his hair, giving it a gentle tug. " How about your bitch? " " My bitch? " He bit his lip, nodding. He leaned forward, his lips, chapped and dry, ghosted against yours. He quickly pecked you three times, laughing at your shock. " Yeah. " He said. " Okay, " You paused. " Bitch. " Even you had to admit you didn't sound very convincing. He snorted. Dropping his head onto your chest. " No- you have to like, mean it. " He explained, " Get angry- get heated. I'm a bitch, right? " He taunted. " Then treat me like one. " " You haven't done anything to make me mad. " You shrugged. " What am I supposed to do? Conjure rage out of thin air? " " I mean, yeah. " You rolled your eyes. " Do you want me to make you mad? " " Sure. You can try. " " Uh- Bitch. Whore. Slut! " He said, excitedly. You tried, you really did, to muster up any form of anger against the guy, but the look of thrill on his face made you too gushy. You shook your head. " Nah. Now that I know you're trying I can't manage it. " " Makes sense. Not to be a dick, but you're really easy to walk over. "  You paused, the guy standing. With a hand on the back of his neck, he bent back abruptly, popping his spine. " What? " You questioned. " You're a bit of a doormat. " He repeated. " A push over. Easy to manipulate. " " Easy- Excuse me? " " Do I need to repeat myself, or are your two brain cells taking their time processing? " " Last time I checked, I wasn't the lowlife breaking into houses. " He turned quickly, rushing back to your side to press his forehead against yours. " Last time I checked, I wasn't the dumb bitch letting strangers into her house past the haunting hour, but hey- " He ranted, " Last time I checked I also had more than two brain cells, so- " " Fuck you. " " See, that's what I was trying to get at this whole time- " You pushed him roughly, the boy going down with ease. He let out a laugh as you jumped to straddle him, pressing his arms to his chest. " Fuck yes! " He laughed. " Get mad! Get mad! " He encouraged. You grabbed his shirt collar, yanking it down to the middle of his arms. " Hey, hey! " He whined. " You're gonna stretch my shit- " " I don't want you crying when I come on your face, and it gets on your cheap shit. " " Cheap? " He feigned offense. " This is from abecrombie- " You began slipping out of your pajama pants, pulling them off to reveal your pantie clad lower body. The boy went quiet, starring down at your under wear. " Dr. Seuss, " He laughed. " Charming. " You felt him shift uncomfortably beneath you, letting his head lull back. " Having issues? " " I can't move my arms, and I really- really want to stroke my dick right now. " " Wow. That sounds like it sucks. " " It does. "

" Good. " He laughed again, moving his legs up to nudge at your back. His knee feebly tried to raise your shirt, the concentration on his face making you all the more heated. " Come on- Shirt off? " " Ha- No. " You mused. He groaned. " You're killing me. " " Well, I will be in a second. " You scooted up to place your groin over his mouth. He starred up at you with wide eyes. A grim smile broke out on his face, his eyes dragging over Thing One and Thing Two. He nipped at you, making you lean back quickly. " Careful their, buddy. I have full option to dick punch you right now. " His smile melted into a look of content, face turning red at the prospect. " That's a threat? " " Gross. " " Pussy. On my tongue. " He stuck his tongue out from between his teeth. " Now please. Give bitch his meal. " " Get to it yourself. " You sat down as he wished, the boy smiling against your covered cunt. The curve of his teeth against your clit made you twitch slightly. Rolling your shoulders back, you got comfortable as you watched him struggle to get past The Cat in the Hat. His struggle wasn't long. He wasn't patient, it seemed, as you heard a harsh rip, felt a tug, and then a content, breathy laugh against your pussy. You looked back down to find the boy spitting out the fabric of your underwear, face red. " All we could do was sit! Sit! Sit! " The boy mocked, looking impressed with himself. " And we liked it a lot more than a little bit. " His tongue dragged a wet stripe from your taint to your clit, you gasping as he did such. He was by no means an expert, but the boy made up for it with enthusiasm. He nipped and licked with too much vigor for you to notice any lack of skill- And you rode his face until you came.

‘ Did I make you mad ? ‘ And you kept the memory after he stopped showing up. It was locked away- Used only for when you were lonely- Which was pretty often. It was the last time you'd see him, you figured. The last time that racket of a boy would sneak into your house. Unfortunate, you thought. It was something else.

And then you learned his name from the news.

[robronsecretsanta2020]

Leave It To the Mistletoe for @bobbie-robron

His sister’s bathroom was freezing, and he’d forgotten his towel. He grabbed some tiny towel that Vic probably used on her hair and rubbed his head, teeth chattering. He grabbed his robe, but it was thin and fraying. As he pulled it on, he looked outside the window. Snow was swirling in almost every direction. He felt the wind through the window and shivered. He was going to catch his death in here.

The plan was to make it to the closet for a towel then his room without running into anyone. His teeth chattered as he ran for it, and of course, a door opened. Aaron’s boyfriend’s head sticking out of Aaron’s room. Robert sighed but kept on course. He pulled open the linen closet and grabbed an old beach towel.

As he turned, he saw Eli was still looking at him. “What?”

Eli jumped and stepped back a bit back into Aaron’s room.

Robert glared at him.

“I, uh… was told that you were who I needed to talk to.”

That was ominous. “Well, I’m freezing, so…”

“Oh, right, yeah…later.”

Robert turned to go into Vic’s spare room and cursed his furnace for breaking for the billionth time. The last thing he really wanted to be doing was running into Aaron’s latest boyfriend — who was sticking around for far too long. Why hadn’t they broken up yet? Robert glowered as he dried off and quickly got dressed.  

Eli was hanging in the hallway.

He had a split second impulse to just punch him.

Tell him he wasn’t good enough for Aaron.

No one was.

But he just blinked at him and realized he wasn’t getting out of whatever this was…

“What?”

Eli sighed. “I um, I asked Adam, but he told me to ask you…which their best mates, right? Him and Adam?”

Robert rolled his eyes.

“Anyway…it’s just things are getting serious.”

What? No. Him?

“And so, I want to get Aaron something good for Christmas, but he's… well keeps saying he doesn’t want anything…do have ideas?"

"Why would I give you ideas?”

“Adam seemed to think you’d be the better one to ask?”

Robert rolled his eyes.

“I mean… I know you and Aaron are mates, but…uh, are you really that close.”

“Yeah, we are."

"Oh…”

Robert smirked. It bothered Eli he and Aaron were close. Good. Let it. “And sorry, I already got him the best present, so you’re flat out of luck."

"I could pay you for it?”

“Are you serious? No. And it’d make zero sense coming from you…no mate, you’re out of luck. Try a hoodie…” he brushed past him and walked downstairs.

Into an explosion of green streamers and red and green balloons. “Vic, what the hell?”

“My party is tonight.”

He sighed. “You need to fix the heater in your bathroom.”

“And just lose money again, no thanks…can you put this up?” she handed him a sprig of fake mistletoe.

“Really? Are you twelve? You going to play spin the bottle tonight too?”

“Could be fun,” she grinned. “It’s Christmas in a week, come on, please, I can’t reach….between the kitchen and the living room.”

Robert sighed and reached up, sticking it where she wanted it with a bit of tape.

“Oh, Hi, Eli.”

“Hi…Aaron said it was alright if I slept in.”

“Yeah, of course, there is coffee in the kitchen.”

Robert grabbed his things and tried not to glare at Eli.

“That is looking more and more serious, isn’t it great?” Vic said.

“Yeah, peachy…”

“You could give him a chance….”

“Why?”

“For Aaron? I think he really likes him.”

“I gotta get to work.”

“Happy trucking.”

“I don’t drive…never mind…” he walked out the door, and his phone chirped. He grabbed it as he walked to the cafe on autopilot. It was Aaron.  

A: Going to be at the party.

R: Hoping to avoid it.

A: They figure out your furnace. I can look at it, you know.

R: Meeting guy there on my lunch break. Let you know.

A: Eli texted that you’re a prick.  

Robert snorted and looked up to order his Americano.  

R: Was I supposed to be nice?

He watched the screen, holding his breath and hoping that the answer wasn’t yes — if it was yes, then it was getting serious with him and Eli. Wasn’t it? And that made his stomach churn, and the urge to hit and throw things rush to the surface. He didn’t know what to do with it…

How do you deal with it?

He thought it was mad at first, feeling the things he felt for Aaron. He still thought it was a bit mad, but he knew now it wasn’t going away. It was getting worse. But they were… they were them, mates, they had something good and real…

He needed him.

The idea of messing with it felt terrifying.

A: Nah.

Robert blew out a relieved breath.  

~~~

Aaron sipped the crappy coffee, mostly just to get some heat into him. He felt frozen from working in the yard in the snow. It was coming down too hard now, and it was pointless. He supposed he could do paperwork, but he was thinking about just taking off early. Start the weekend early, he glanced at the time. He could maybe swing by the Mill and be there when Robert met with whoever he’d called about his heater.  

The only issue was Adam was giving him a look.

“What?”

Adam laughed. “Just I know someone is thinking really hard on what to get you for Christmas.”

“Just get me money like usual, mate.”

“Not me.”

Aaron stared at him.

“Can’t think of who?”

Aaron shrugged. “Who is there?”

“Plenty of people…but this is specific. You really have no idea who?” Adam laughed.

Aaron blinked. “Everyone knows what I like.”

“Actually, mate, no one knows what you like. Why do you think I give you money, and Vic bakes you things?”

“I’m not that hard to buy for…” Aaron muttered.

“Only if your Robert Sugden,” Adam laughed.

“What’s that mean?”

“Oh, come on, he’s like some Aaron savant. You always fucking love his presents.”

“Do not…” Aaron tried not to look at his watch on his wrist that Robert given him for his birthday last year. It was simple, durable, not pretentious, and almost ugly.  

“Your mum is still mad about that watch…I saw you look.”

“Yeah, the one she got me would have gotten all scratched up here in a day… it’s just practical. And whatever…” Aaron frowned. “Who are you talking about?”

“Eli, mate, tall dude, bit quiet.”

“What?” Aaron frowned.

“Yeah, he asked me what you like. I sent him to Robert.”

“OH…” Aaron started laughing.

“What?”

“Eli, texted me earlier saying Robert was a prick.”

“They’re getting to know each other.”

“Whatever, what does he need to get me anything for anyway…”  

“You’re dating, and Christmas is seven days.”

Aaron shrugged. “It’s not that serious.”

“He’s lasted a while, mate.”

“It's….” Aaron sighed.

“What?”

“Just tired of going out on the pull, you know, we get along alright…” he frowned.

Adam sat up. “So, it is serious?”

“Yes, no…” Aaron sighed and tried not to think about Robert.  

“I’m lost.”

“I’d like to get serious, just not sure it’s Eli…”

“Who then? Like is there someone?”

Aaron cleared his throat. “You know what? I need to head out.”

“Whoa, whoa, there is mate…who?”

“It’s nothing, but seriously, I need to go…”

“To the Mill?”

Aaron felt seen and turned back.

“We all know Robert will let someone rip him off if you don't… save my bro in law.”

Aaron let out a small breath of relief and walked into the snow, and felt relieved when his car started. He frowned as tinny Christmas music filled the car but tis the season… He didn’t bother trying to find a station not playing it. And as he pulled into the Mill’s driveway, he ignored the fact he was singing along to Mariah Bloody Carey.  

He hopped out, spotting Robert leaning against his front door and as a truck pulled in behind him.  

“Good timing,” Robert said.

“Thought I’d make sure you don’t get ripped off.”

“I’m not stupid.”

“You are an idiot, though. He’ll overprice it…”

“Which one of you is Sugden?”

“I am, thanks for…furnace just broke down last night.”

“Let’s take a look.”

Aaron stepped in behind him and shivered as they went inside. It felt colder than the outside. He and Robert glanced at each other. “Still warmer than Vic’s loo…” they both muttered and laughed.

Aaron grinned.

Robert ushered him ahead. “Mr. Dingle here is going to be making the decisions.”

Guy looked up. “I don’t judge. My wife does the same thing…”

“Oh uh…”

“We aren't…”

Aaron glanced at Robert but looked away quickly.  

It hung there in the silence, their unfinished… corrections.

The guy didn’t notice as he started to take his look at the furnace.

~~~

Aaron and Robert sat in the cafe, hot chocolate in front of them, in silence. Aaron glanced around, watching Nicola straightening up the Christmas decorations. There was more Christmas music in the background. It was just the air now, he reminded himself but grumbled a bit as he sipped his drink.  

He felt Robert’s eyes on him and looked up. He shrugged in response to the silent question. It wasn’t important, not really, he grumbled about Christmas music every year — why be different. He rolled his eyes at himself as he decided it was a tradition.  

“It’s just a little longer, and it’s just a month of it,” Robert laughed.

“Started in November, mate.” Aaron glared.

“This, this is a good one…” Robert said, and he started to sing along to White Christmas.

Aaron rolled his eyes and sipped at his hot chocolate.

Robert kept singing, getting a bit louder and louder.

Aaron threw his napkin at him and laughed when Robert smirked at him.

His conversation about presents with Adam popped into his mind, and he realized he hadn’t heard from the person who was making Robert’s present for him — he needed to call him. He still needed to shop for the rest of his list, his mum, Adam, and Vic — he put them together, probably some gift certificate…

His mind went to Eli.

Ugh.

“What’s with the face?”

“Eli…he uh, Adam mentioned he’s asking around for present ideas?"

Robert’s smile dropped. For a split second. But then it was back if a bit forced, and Aaron felt a yearning for it to mean something. That it probably didn't…

"Yeah, that’s when I was a prick.”

“I figured, when Adam mentioned…yeah.”  

“Do you want me to give him…”

“No, no…I just don’t. I wasn’t planning on getting him anything. Like, have to now or…”

“Dump him.”

Aaron laughed. “What just to get out having to give him a pressie?”

“Sure. You’ve dumped people for less.”

Aaron laughed, but he was considering it — it felt awful. He hadn’t lied to Adam. He was tired of the dating scene. He wanted something like his mate had with Vic…

He looked at Robert.

He was fiddling with his phone. Aaron watched as he changed his wallpaper to a Christmas tree. “Dork.”

“Grinch.”

They fell back into silence.

“Isn’t this cozy.”

Aaron looked up, and Eli was standing by their table. This look on his face. Aaron stared at him.  

“Just under my nose?”

“What?” Aaron shook his head.

“Oh for fucks…” Robert muttered under his breath.

Aaron glanced at him.

Robert started typing on his phone.

“Ever think to mention how close you two are?” Eli asked.

“Uh…did I have to? He’s my best mate…” Aaron felt lost.  

“I thought that was Adam.”

Aaron nodded his head and shrugged. “Is there a limit?”

“He’s bi,” Eli bit out.  

Aaron’s phone chirped. He looked down.

R: He was irked realizing we were close, but I didn’t think it was this…

“Aaron?” Robert’s voice held so much.

Aaron met his eyes, felt shaken by how green they were… he looked from Robert to Eli. “I’ve got this.”

Robert stood up. “I’ll be at the scrapyard,” he said.

Aaron nodded.

“Have a date,” Eli said.

“Sit down,” he snapped.

Eli huffed out a breath, but he sat down.  

“What’s your problem?”

“Look, Adam is straight as they come, but Robert, he's…always flirting with you, and you two are all…”

“He’s not…” Flirting? Aaron frowned. “He’s my friend as much as Adam.”

“No,” Eli shook his head. “No, it’s different.”

Aaron rolled his eyes.

“Was watching you two through the window… this looked like a date.”

“Don’t be daft…” did it?

“I don’t like it.”

Aaron just stared at him.

“So…” Eli said.

“What?”

“If we’re serious, it has to stop.”

Aaron felt gobsmacked.

“Well?”

“Robert.”

“Okay…wait, what?” Eli said.

Aaron rolled his eyes. “You find out I have a bi friend and your first act is to behave like a jealous…I don’t know, teenager, and you actually think I’m not going to pick my closest mate over you? Grow up, Eli…"

Aaron stood up and walked out of the cafe.  

"Aaron, Aaron…” Eli was behind him.

“It’s done,” Aaron said.

“But… okay, you’re right I’m overreacting, alright. It’s just…I feel like I don’t know you, and then I find out you’re super close with this fit guy…"

"So? If we were closer, would it matter?”

“I just…I knew you were mates, but I didn’t get it was close, and the flirting…”

“It’s banter…” Aaron really wanted to not read into how Eli saw them — he was jealous. Biased. “It’s banter like with Adam.”

“It’s not…he’s fit, and he apparently knows you…”

Aaron sighed.

“I’ve made this a mess…”

“It’s still over.”

“What?”

Aaron sighed. “Look. Adam told me you want to get me something, that you see us getting serious…”

“I do.”

“I don't…” Aaron shrugged.

“It’s about him?”

Aaron opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out.

Eli sighed. “I was… wrong-headed Aaron, but I ain’t wrong about you and him…"

Aaron frowned as he watched Eli walk away. His heartbeat was loud in his ears. Robert and he — they were… Something. Mates. Not like him and Adam, he told Robert things no one else knew. Or could guess at — Robert did. They were family, friends. Important. It was…

He felt like he would die before risking all of it.

But is it a risk?

~~~

The party was a thing when Aaron got downstairs. He’d dressed up for it, being stuck there now. He and Eli had plans to go Bar West, but that wasn’t happening, and Aaron was more than relieved. He felt like he’d dropped a weight and gotten out of something — Eli’s overreaction screaming red flags at him…

And told him not to buy a word he said about him and Robert.

Even if a piece of him might want to.

He straightened the sleeves of his black sweater and looked around for where Vic put the beer. The party wasn’t in full swing yet. He supposed a lot of people wouldn’t show for another hour. Vic was still moving around, putting on finishing touches of her chosen finger foods and decorations. Adam was following her around, trying to tell her to calm down and enjoy. Aaron laughed, thinking Robert and her more alike than anyone ever noticed.

He found the beer and picked up a bottle.

Adam was in front of him. "She’s stressing herself out.”

“She’ll relax, get some beer in her.”

“The plan,” Adam picked up two bottles. “Weren’t you not staying?”

“Plans changed.”

“Eli’s coming over…”

“We broke up.”

“What? Maate…you didn’t dump him to get out of the present thing, did ya?”

“No…” Aaron said and ignored the fact he had considered that. “Rob and I were at the cafe, and he walked in all jealous and going on about me and him…” Aaron shook his head. “He gave me an ultimatum."

"What?”

Aaron nodded.

“What? He said him or Robert?”

Aaron nodded.

Adam whistled. “He stood no chance mate…” he laughed.

“It was mad, how jealous he was… like just because we’re both into men…”

“Well, good riddance, can’t mess with someone that jealous, yeah.”

Aaron nodded.

“I mean, I can see it though…huh.”

“What?”

“You and Robert.”

“What?” Aaron forced himself to laugh.

“Yeah, huh…” Adam laughed. “I mean you’re mates, great ones… you get along. Ever considered it?”

He felt caught.

“Have ya?” Adam grinned at him. “Yeah? I mean, I think I have the fit Sugden, but…”

“Shut up…” Aaron said to stave off his panic. He couldn’t do this.  

“Ads…can you come take their coats?” Vic yelled from the door.

And he was gone, and Aaron tried to remember how to breathe.

But Robert took that second to walk into the flat. Dressed in his gray jumper, and the rest of Aaron’s breath vanished. He looked down and willed Robert not to find him in the growing crowd. But he felt him, coming closer, then he smelled him, and he swallowed.

“My place is even colder if you believe it,” he said as he picked up a beer.

“Thought you weren’t coming.”

“Figured you’d need someone to talk to…” Robert smiled.

Aaron nodded and shoved his hands into his jean’s pockets.

“You alright?”

“Yeah… I mean, I was going to dump him anyway.”

“I didn’t mean that…”

“No, not the present thing on the account he was into it more than me…”

“Can’t blame him…” Robert said.

Aaron stared at him.

Robert was busying himself, trying to open the bottle.

Aaron took it and snapped off the top for him. “Butterfingers.”

“Thanks.”

“You two mingle…please…” Vic was in front of them.

“Why would we do that?” Robert asked.

“Look, my friends from the gym are all huddled, Adam and I’s friends from school are over there, and my friends from my cooking classes are there… it’s all groups and corners. And you two are intimidating people away from the alcohol…”

“We’re not…” they both muttered.

“Look at ya, with your we’re too cool for Christmas grump faces.”

“Hey, I love Christmas…” Robert denied. “This isn’t Christmas."

"We have a grab bag planned, but I need to get people mingling. MINGLE.”

“Vic…"

"Alright,” Aaron heard himself say… He needed a break from Robert. Eli and Adam all in his head and making him think about the things he kept buried. It wasn’t possible the two of them — wouldn’t it have happened by now if it were? And Robert hadn’t meant anything when he said he couldn’t blame Eli for being into him? Had he? No, he had to stop this…

He couldn’t ruin what they had.

“Alright?”

“You take the ladies from her gym…might get a number. I recognize some people from school, so…”

“Aaron…” Robert’s voice sounded odd as he walked away. He forced himself not to look back.  

~~~

Get a number.

Get a number!

It repeated in his head as he talked to the women from Vic’s gym — doing his best to be charming and talking about the people he knew from Vic’s cooking classes — he’d taken a few with her.  One woman was well into him, but he kept looking at her, and he couldn’t bring himself to care…

He glanced around the room for Aaron. He felt foolish for getting it into his head that maybe he should… What? Ruin their friendship? Just because Eli got jealous — the bloke was off the plot, really. It’d been based on nothing at all. It wasn’t real…

He hadn’t sensed something real between them.

They were mates. Been mates so long, Robert didn’t remember not being mates. But that’d been true once. They hadn’t gotten along at all…

Until the day they did.

He frowned.

“What did you do?” Vic’s made him blink.

“Huh?”

“Well, you made the gym crowd go get drinks at least…”

“I was talking up Jan and Brian from Cake Baking.”

Vic laughed. “This party is going to fail.”

“It’s not. Just give it some time. Not even everyone is here yet.”

“Could you lose the long face, though?”

“I’m not long-faced.”

“Are.”

“Whatever…” he looked around.

“Aaron went outside.”

“What why?”

“Air, he said.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Vic echoed him, and when he looked at her, she was staring at him funny.

“What?”

Vic eyed him, then she looked away and around the room. “Oh, there he is…” she looked around the room. “I have a brilliant idea.”

“I’m scared…”

She grabbed his hand. “Shut up… Aaron!”  

“Vic, let go…” he shouted as she yanked him toward the kitchen. She stopped short, though, and he tripped into Aaron.  

Aaron’s hands came fell onto his arms, just above his elbows, slowing his momentum.

“Thanks,” he muttered out of breath.

“Kiss,” Vic said.

The two of them looked at her.

“What?” Robert asked.

She pointed up.

He looked at the mistletoe he’d put up for her earlier. “No.”

“Do it, please,” she whispered and looked around. “I need an icebreaker.”

“You and Adam do it…” Aaron said, his hands sliding off of Robert.

Robert hated how he felt cold there.

“No, we’re married. What’s the fun in that. Now you two are two fit blokes…”

“You want to objectify your own brother.”

“In the interest of my party, yes I do…’ Vic smiled at them. "Just do it,” she snapped.

“Vic…”

“Oh, come on, you’re close, you’ve slept together on my couch, just kiss.”

Robert closed his eyes for a moment, trying to find the reason he could give that would stop this from happening. But his mind was blank. No lies, no excuses. All he felt was that he wanted to do it… And it wasn’t his idea, was it? It was just mistletoe?

It was a stupid Christmas Tradition.

It was a reason.

He could kiss Aaron, and it wouldn’t ruin anything. They wouldn’t even have to talk about it afterward — it’d probably be awful anyway, show him once and for all that he and Aaron were just mates…

“Alright…” he muttered.

“What?” Aaron said.

“It’s just some dumb tradition, right?” Robert said, and it’d sounded better in his head.

Aaron looked between them.

“Please?” Vic said.

Aaron sighed.

Vic squealed and shoved Robert into Aaron.

“Vic..” He frowned, but his hands stayed where they’d fallen on Aaron’s waist. “Um..”

Aaron shifted and looked up at the mistletoe.

“OH OH LOOK PEOPLE UNDER THE MISTLETOE,” Vic yelled.

Robert watched Aaron’s face go beet red.

He had to rescue him.

His hands flew up and landed on his face. He took a bracing breath. This would answer it all right…

He might as well enjoy it, go for broke, and kiss the hell out of Aaron. His thumbs trailed against his scruff, his eyes locked onto brilliant blue, he felt his breath catch, but it wasn’t like he’d need it…. He pressed their mouths together, and heat shot down his spine, and he stepped back, for a split second, then he dipped back down for more. Aaron tasted like chocolate and beer. His hands were on, trailing up his arms…

A trail of electric bursts before it landed on his shoulders. He felt pulled in closer, he felt the tip of Aaron’s tongue, and one of his hand fell down Aaron’s chest, it landed on his waist and he yanked him closer.  

He opened his mouth, and Aaron was there, leaning up into him, hands clutching at his jumper. Their feet tangled, then tripped, swayed…

Robert’s mouth felt cold as they parted.

His heart was hammering.

Aaron’s eyes were bright and wild.

But Robert blinked and Aaron was gone.

He left Robert in a daze.

~~~

It was two days later, and Aaron still felt upended.

It figured Robert was an amazing kisser.

Toe-curling and life-changing.  

Aaron swore and turned over onto his stomach and buried his face in his pillow. He couldn’t handle this. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go? And he kept wishing he hadn’t let Robert talk him into going along with Vic’s ridiculous idea…

It’s just some dumb tradition.

It was just the excuse he needed, wasn’t it? It was a reason that they could cross a line that something had decided they’d never cross. Mistletoe in the middle of a party. It’d be quick and chaste and ridiculous. People might laugh, and catcall and Vic would get her party ice broken…

He should have known it’d backfire.

Because it was the best kiss of his life… and he’d tried to give as good as got. He’d felt hungry the second their lips touched. All his insides flipped inside out and in again. He’d wanted to climb up Robert, shove his hands under his jumper instead of clutching to the material with his fists…

When their tongues met, he thought his legs might give out.

He never kissed anyone like that before.

He’d felt on fire.

So, he’d run outside.

And away from Robert.

How could he look at him again? How had he told himself that kiss would mean nothing — because it’d meant something.  

They couldn’t go back.

And Robert likely agreed.

Because Aaron knew he was being avoided right back.

He probably regretted it.

He probably wasn’t sure how to tell Aaron they could only be friends.

He’d risked everything.

He screamed into the pillow.

~~~

He was going to run out of the hot water that he’d just gotten back, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave his shower. He let the water wash over him and sighed in resignation that wasn’t going to wash away the memory of kissing Aaron…

He’d tried.

To purge it.

To tell himself they’d just done what Vic wanted.

That Aaron running away had been about him hating attention and not him…

Though he was being avoided.

Which was relieving and sad.

Because he was avoiding Aaron, and he didn’t know how to stop.

He wanted to stop.

They could bury this, right? Go back?

Could they?

Aaron had kissed him back? His hands digging into his skin a bit, they’d clutched at his sweater, up on his toes, their chests pressing together —that’d been Aaron.

It’d felt.

Amazing.

Who knew kissing could feel like fire?

He hadn’t.

Robert sighed.

He turned off the water, grabbed his fluffy towel, and enjoyed the fact he wasn’t freezing. He heard his doorbell go and sighed. He needed to be left alone — the last thing he could deal with right now was other people. But it was probably Vic…

It was time to start on Christmas dinner.

As if getting him and Andy together would ever be a good idea.

But he put on his robe, fixed his hair a bit, and walked downstairs.

“Liv?” Chas said as she walked in.

“Um…what about her?”

“What about her? She just called to ask me to stay at mine?”

“OH…” he sighed. “Yeah, I already got the tickets. If she can’t, she can hide out here.”

Chas just stared at him.

“What?”

“That’s your Christmas present to Aaron, his sister?”

“Uh, yeah…why? He misses her. Seems obvious.”

“I bought him two tickets to Ibiza.”

“Tacky. He’ll love it.”

“For the weekend after New Year’s, the dates you have her here…"

"Oh…"

Chas sighed.

"He can take her.”

“What?”

“It’s perfect, right? He can take Liv.”

“To Ibiza.”

“What? He’ll love spending time with her…she’ll love it. It’s win-win…” Robert walked into his kitchen.

Chas made a noise.

“What?”

“I was trying to top you.”

“What?”

She groaned.

“Want tea?”

“Fine…” she sat down at his kitchen.  

He went about filling the kettle.

“Do you love him?”

He dropped the kettle in the sink.  

“Hmm…was that an answer?”

He turned and stared at her.

“Do you?” she asked.

He felt his cheeks heat, knew his chest was too… he flashed to that kiss. But more than just being with Aaron — anywhere, anytime, no matter what they were doing…

Always the best part of his day.

He’d missed it for the past few days.  

“Better do something about it before someone else scoops him up…” Chas said.

“I didn't…”

“You didn’t need to…” she said. “I heard Vic describing that kiss.”

He paled. “She’s what?”

“Oh, it’s the latest gossip,” Chas laughed and pointed at him. “Don’t be stupid, Sugden…now tea please while we iron the details or our now group gift."

He groaned.

~~~

"You live,” Vic exclaimed as she found him at the kitchen table sipping a brew.

Aaron nodded.

“You’ve been in and out before I can see ya…”

He shrugged.

“So, uh… Are you mad at me?”

“Maybe.”

“For the incident, or telling everyone about it?”

“What?”

“Okay. Both.”

He groaned and slumped in his chair.

Vic sighed and sat down. “I thought…”

“You thought what?”

“You’d get together.”

“You what?” Aaron stared at her.

“I mean…” Vic sighed. “Aaron. It’s you and Robert.”

“We’re mates.”

“Oh…” she snorted. “Look… Robert was moping without you at the party. I don’t even know why you left him to… And Adam, he’d brought up how Eli noticed that thing between you — not that Adam’s ever noticed it. But since it was brought up, Adam was wondering why you two just never…”

“I, what, Vic, make sense.”

“Oh, I’m making sense. You just don’t want me to… You and Robert, Aaron. Why aren’t you a thing?”

“Because, because….” Aaron frowned.

“See.”

“No. No, it’s not that simple.”

“Of course, it is.”

“No, no, it’s not…” Aaron frowned.

“Why?”

“I can’t lose him.”

“Hmm, I think we’re talking about the opposite of that.”

“No, no, we’re not…if it, if we try, and it doesn’t work…” Aaron shook his head. “No. I’d miss him.”

“So, go for it.”

“And then it crashes and burns?” Aaron shook his head.

“So, you’re a coward?” Vic said. ���The both of you? Probably. Because the two of you are avoiding each other like you contracted the plague instead of sharing probably the most passionate kiss I’ve ever witnessed. I figured you two kiss, feel a spark, but no the two of you enacted some romance novel."

"Vic…” he blushed.

“You love him.”

“Of course I do, but…”

“You are in love with him.”

“I…” his phone rang.

“Should check it. Adam said something about a scrap delivery issue.”

He sighed and looked at his phone, half afraid it’d be Robert.  It wasn’t.  And the disappointment like a punch. He sighed at the number, though… and dropped his phone.

“Ezekiel’s Woodworking Studio?” Vic read the caller’s identification. “What’s that about.”

“Robert’s Christmas present isn’t it… it’s nothing really, I just saw this guy, and his art looked like it fit in with the Mill — like Robert…I commissioned a piece.”

“Commissioned a piece?” Vic shook her head. “And you, who doesn’t spend over ten quid on your own mother, want to tell me you aren’t in love with my brother?”

He shifted in his seat. It all looked different now, didn’t it?

His lips tingled.

His insides flipped.

“Aaron, please don’t do anything you’ll regret."

~~~

R: My house.

Aaron touched his mouth as he read the words and then shoved his phone into his jeans and looked around. No one was taking much notice of him. Everyone was just chattering amongst themselves. He noticed most everyone at their tables at the Woolpack had Christmas bags with them. Some even had wrapped up boxes.

It was snowing again, and he almost felt a bit cheery. But his insides twisted, pleasantly and not, as the kiss played over in his mind again… It wouldn’t let him let it go. It wouldn’t let the things Vic said go either…

But neither would his fear.

He sat down and ordered a pint from Charity.

Cain sat down next to him a few minutes later.

They grunted hello.

Aaron ordered a second pint, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket, and he knew it was Robert. He felt in his bones. He’d made the overture, and Aaron ignored, but he wasn't…

Robert had decided to stop avoiding.

But what did that mean? Was he reaching out to go back to the status quo or?

He sighed into his pint.

"Alright, that’s enough…” Cain pulled the pint away.

Aaron scowled at him.

“What has you moping about?”

“Nothing.”

“What your mum do?”

“Nothing?”

“Scrapyard in trouble?”

“No, we’re fine.”

“It Sugden?”

He scowled.

“What he do this time?”

Aaron stared at him. “What?”

“He does something mad, you two fall out, you look like a grumpy bear until it’s fixed… just forgive him already and put the rest of our misery having to deal with you.”

“Oh, you’re a bush of roses…” Aaron shot back, then rolled his eyes.

“I’m I wrong?”

“He didn’t…” Aaron frowned. “Do we, I, we do that?”

Cain shrugged. “You aren’t roses when you and Adam fall out either, but it’s never as bad. What happened?”

Aaron felt his cheeks heat, and he felt the phantom kiss of Robert’s mouth. He touched his mouth and grabbed his pint back from Cain. “We kissed,” he muttered before drinking.

Cain stared at him a bit, made a noise, and rolled his eyes. “You were alright with it?”

“Yeah…yeah…well no…it was under the mistletoe, Vic made us, for her party.”

“So not a real kiss…”

“Wasn’t supposed to be…” Aaron sighed.

Cain shook his head.

Aaron snorted.

Cain eyed him.  

Aaron twisted his pint glass around.

Cain sighed. “I’m trying here. You got work with me.”

“It was….” Aaron sighed. “Can’t get it out my head.”

“Oh.”

Aaron nodded.

“Then why are you here, moping?”

Why was that such a good question? Aaron sighed. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Going to his…” Aaron tossed some money on the bar. “Thanks.”

Cain nodded.

It was freezing outside. He dug out his gloves, zipped up his coat, put his gloves on, and started walking through the storm to Robert’s house. As he got closer, he couldn’t see any lights inside, and he started to feel stupid. Maybe he wasn’t even home. Maybe he’d gotten fed up with no answer from him and gone out.

But he got to the door and rang the buzzer and hugged himself against the col and waited what felt like forever. But it was probably only a minute or so when Robert appeared and yanked Aaron inside…

“You look freezing,” he muttered. “Get out of that jacket. It’s wet with snow.”

Aaron did as he was told, mostly because he was freezing. He toed off his boots too and looked around The Mill. He loved it. He’d helped Robert out a bit, pointing to things he liked. A few of them were on the walls. There was one empty spot – Robert driving himself spare trying to figure out what he wanted there.

He thoughts about the present he commissioned. His stomach churned. He hadn’t been sure about it, but something had pressed him forward. It felt like a familiar fear.

A Robert fear.

Robert appeared in front of him and held up two boxes. “Tea or hot chocolate?”

“Hot chocolate.”

A grin broke across Robert’s face. “Me too.”

“Yeah…I know…” Aaron laughed.

Robert kept looking at him.

Aaron nodded.

“So, you’re here… I thought for sure you were still avoiding me.”  

“Tried too. Cain was talking my ear off…”

“Cain? Talking your ear off?”

“In his own way.”

“So, escaped by coming here?”

Aaron nodded.

“Good good,” Robert turned toward his stove. “Take a bit to make this… sit down?”

Aaron pulled out a chair in the kitchen. “Furnace is definitely fixed.”

“Yeah, thanks for helping me find that part cheaper.”

“No big deal.”

“Still….” He said from where he was now, stirring chocolate in a pot.

Aaron wondered how many times he’d watched Robert do it — make them hot chocolate, over the years, how many Christmases? How many years where the only present he ever looked forward to were the ones marked by Robert…

They were always the only surprise.

The only gift that made sense to him.

He knew the fear he was tasting. He’d felt it a long time. Let it get too strong.  

“Look…” Robert muttered and turned away.

“What?”

Robert sighed and stayed focused on the pot of chocolate. “This is weird.”

Aaron let out a laugh.

“And awkward, and we’ve never been awkward…”

Aaron nodded.

Robert smiled, and he turned off the burner, grabbed the chair closest to Aaron, and sat down. “I…”

Aaron waited.

Robert’s cheeks went pink.  

Aaron felt his breath catch.

“Am terrified.”

Suddenly Aaron could breathe. He felt tears in his eyes, and his head nodding up and down. “Me too…” he wiped at the corner of his eye.

Robert blew out a breath. “That’s fantastic.”

“That we’re both scared?” Aaron shook his head.

“Yeah, yeah…isn’t it?”

“I don’t know. Been using it to… keep us how we are?”

Robert nodded. “Is that what you want? Us how we are…”

“Or?”

“I’ve hated all your boyfriends.”

Aaron nodded. “I know.”

“But, I mean, not just for all the reasons they were wrong for ya…which they were…but… I hated them, Aaron. I wanted. I just didn’t think you’d want me…”

“Why wouldn’t I want you?” Aaron stared at him.

“I’m smug, I’m rude, I’m always scheming against my co-workers…”

“You’re ambitious, you never let your sister down… You never let me down."

Robert shrugged.

"I need you…” Aaron whispered. “I can’t talk to anyone else like you.”

“Same here, you know…your the most important person to me outside of myself and Vic…I don’t know what I’d be without you.”

Aaron nodded.

“But…” Robert grabbed his hand.

Aaron felt a jolt of warmth up his arm. He stared at their hands, watching his own fingers just tangled with Robert’s. He thought about a million times, he’d wanted to grab his hand…

So many chances he never took.

“I want more.”

Aaron closed his eyes.

“Do you think?”

“I don’t know…” Aaron felt the fear tearing at him. He let go of Robert’s hand and wiped his eyes. “I can't…” he stood up and went to the door.

“Aaron…” Robert followed him.

He bent down to put on his boots.

“Don’t go. It’s a blizzard out there.”

“Not going far…”

“Aaron?”

“I heard ya…” he muttered, and he dared look up into eyes he knew as well as his own, mostly green with a glint of blue that always drove him to distraction. He sighed and started trying to put on his coat.

“And?”

“I’m scared.”

“Me too.”

“I know, but…”

“Aaron.”

“It’s so much…” Aaron let out a breath. “It’s too much. I was scared alone, and now we’re scared together…”

“It’ll get less frightening.”

Aaron let out a breath. He wasn’t sure.

“Fine…alright. I’ll wait.”

Aaron stared at him. “What?”

“I’ll wait…” Robert said. “Been waiting anyway, even if I didn’t know it. Been waiting for something to crack and make us open our eyes — my eyes are open now. I’ll wait for ya… what else would I do? It’s you, Aaron. I’m terrified, but I’m sure… that kiss…I thought it would tell me I was lying to myself about us. But it was the truth instead.”

“You’re mad.”

“I know,” Robert grabbed Aaron’s coat that he was still fumbling with and zipped it up. Tugged and pulled at it until it wrapped around him correctly. Snug and warm. He watched Robert take his hand again, the one that just been tangled up with his… his hand looked small in his grip. He felt a warmth from it that radiated throughout all of him.  

He let Robert put on his glove. Then the other one.

Robert grabbed a hat from his rack, yanked Aaron’s hoodie up from under his jacket, and put the hat and the hood up. “I want a text, alright.”

“Robert…” he stared at him.

“Unless you’re ready to stay?”

His heart jackhammered.

“Okay….but um, I’ll see you on Christmas at Vic’s.”

“I don’t know if…”

“I said I’ll wait, no time limit.”

Aaron blew out a breath. He stared. “I don’t deserve…”

“Yes, you do.”

“You deserve…” Aaron sighed. “You deserve more.”

Robert shook his head.

Aaron sighed and leaned forward and kissed him.

Just like that.

Robert sighed into it, and Aaron stepped back.

They blinked at each other.

Aaron swallowed. “I won’t take long.”

“I’d like that.”

Aaron nodded and darted out.

Away.

He wasn’t even sure why, just that the fear was overwhelming. Robert was the one he relied on to always catch him…

And he was waiting on it again.

The risk felt too real.

~~~

Christmas Day

He swung to look at the door hearing it open.  It was a little past ten at night, but he sighed when it was Matty and his girlfriend, Amy. Though it was all part of the tradition that somehow he’d been allowed into — Aaron dragging him once years ago now. Adam and his family started, then came Vic. Just a group of them getting together after all the Christmas dinners, opening presents, drinking and watching a stupid Christmas movie on late-night cable.  

It was fun.

It was nice to feel part of something.

He never really had that until coming home and finding Aaron.

He shook his head as the level of their stupidity crashed down on him.

And it might be too late.

Aaron might be too afraid of them.

But Robert wasn’t sure if he could go backward — he’d try. For Aaron, as equally terrifying as that sounded — just being friends when he wanted to be…

Everything.

The door opened again, and Aaron came in.

Robert felt his heart stop.

Aaron was holding an odd-shaped gift, which he put down with the rest, and he let Vic pour him some wine, which he only drank on holiday’s but Robert knew he liked a few — he’d made sure to buy his favorite. It was the one that was already open.  

He saw Aaron take a sip, notice, and seek him out.

He nodded. He didn’t dare move. This was Aaron’s call.

How it went tonight.

Aaron walked across the room.

Robert smiled and tugged on the expensive jumper he was wearing.

“Paddy….not my mum, which was weird. Though the same thing, innit?”

“Yeah.”

“Mum said, I was to discuss her present with you…which again weird.”

Robert smirked.

“Seriously, you went in on it with my mum?”

“No. You think we could get along that long? No, just hers kind of had to fit into mine…it was competing. I fixed it, though.”

“Competing…”

Robert grinned and grabbed Aaron’s hand. “Upstairs.”

He felt Aaron’s hand twitch in his and slowed down, ready to let go, realizing he shouldn’t have — they didn’t do this, they touched arms or whatever… this wasn’t waiting, was it?  

Aaron squeezed his hand.

He felt a sigh of relief at not having to let go.

“Wait…” Aaron muttered as they reached the stairs.

Robert stopped.

Aaron grabbed the big present from his pile.

“Whoa, hey, where are two going,” Adam started.

“Nope, let them,” Vic grabbed his arm.

“But we all…”

“Not this year,” Vic said.

Robert shot her quick smile and tugged Aaron behind him up the stairs. He went into Aaron’s room — his favorite in the whole house, muted colors and not that awful lime his sister chose in what he assumed was madness. He turned to face Aaron to be blocked by the present.

“It’s big.”

“I see.”

“I hope you like it because I wasn’t sure…” Aaron sighed.

“I’ll love it. But you first.”

Aaron nodded.

They sat down on the bed.

Aaron took his hand in his.

Robert swallowed.

Aaron fiddled with their hands.

“Aaron?” his throat felt dry.

“I’m still scared…”

Robert nodded.

“But just now, downstairs… seeing ya, touching ya…it feels…better.”

“Good.”

Aaron looked at him.

Robert waited.

“Present?” Aaron asked.

Robert tried not to feel disappointed. He hated himself a bit for feeling disappointed. He was here with Aaron. They were holding hands — that felt wild in a way, in an amazing way. He promised he’d wait. That meant not complaining…

“I’m sorry…”

“No, I’m, I didn’t mean to…”

Aaron took a sharp breath. “I’m just not…”

“It’s okay…presents.” Robert stood up and reluctantly let go of Aaron’s hand. Aaron’s hand falling after him. He pulled the tickets out of his pocket…

“To explain… these are the tickets your mom bought before she knew what my present is.”

“Alright…” he took them, and his eyes lit up. “Ibiza, five nights, after the New Year.”

“Tacky.”

“It’s great…” he frowned. “Robert? How does yours compete?”

He pulled out the next piece of paper. “This is Liv’s itinerary. She get’s here on December 30th.”

“You…you…” Aaron stared at him. “I haven’t seen her…since two years ago…the money…you…” he stared at him. “Sandra agreed.”

“It took some charming, but Liv misses ya too, and you don’t talk enough because you’re horrible at Facetime…”

Aaron launched off the bed, his hands on his face, and kissed him, muttering, “Shut up.”

They swayed. Robert ran his hands down Aaron’s back.

Aaron let out a noise and stepped back. “We can’t go back, can we?”

Robert smiled a bit because Aaron was still in his arms. He could feel his heat. His hands were settled on his waist. He leaned down and caught his eyes. “No.”

Aaron nodded.

Robert held his breath.

“How, um…how are you fixing it, so mum’s gift and yours…”

“Liv’s going with ya, to Ibiza.”

Aaron smiled at him, but it wasn’t as big as he expected. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Aaron?”

Aaron stared at him, his hand reaching up, and he touched his face. “You hate Ibiza…”

“It's…”

“Uh…” Aaron cleared his throat, stepped back, and picked up the large wrapped gift he had for Robert. “I’m nervous about this.”

Robert took it. It was heavier than he expected. “Aaron, what…"

"Open it.”

He pulled it open. It was clear it was wood, driftwood maybe, and he shook his head and pulled it out of the paper completely. It was painted in whites and blues that would look perfect in his living room. It was so simple it was barely even a design, but it was clearly art, made from found wood and made…

“Aaron.”

“I sorta picked out the colors and the design, nothing fancy, I was…”

“I love it.”

Aaron smiled.

“It’ll be perfect in that spot above…”

“The fireplace,” Aaron finished.

“Yeah…”

Aaron frowned and looked at the tickets on the bed.

“What?”

“Come with us…”

“What?”

“If you can…if you want…come with us.”

“To Ibiza?”

“I know you hate it and all, but…”

“Aaron?”

“I…” Aaron closed his eyes, but he held out his hand.

Robert took it.

“We can’t go back…” Aaron tugged at him. He stepped closer. “I don’t want to go back.”

“Are you…”

“You can stop waiting.”

“Aaron?”

“Yes, us, let’s just… risk it and go all in.”

“Thank God,” Robert breathed.

“But I can’t go away for five nights without you…and if you can put up with Liv…”

“Anything. Liv, Ibiza…”

Aaron laughed.

“I mean it though, Aaron. Anything.”

“Me too…” Aaron let out another breath and squeezed their hands. “It’s already not all that scary.”

“Maybe a little,” Robert whispered. “Aaron?”

“Yeah.”

Robert kissed him, then again, and tugged at the sweater. “All in?”

Aaron stared at him, his eyes wide, and he looked terrified. Robert felt it. He felt himself, but he strokes his thumb where it was already on the skin, and Aaron’s eyes went darker, and he looked at Robert. “I haven't…every time I relive that kiss, I think about you and me…”

“Yeah?” Robert smiled and kissed his neck.

Aaron made a beautiful noise and started to pull on the buttons of Robert’s dress shirt. “Yes. All in.”

Robert kissed him before he finished the sentence. He wanted to taste him again, feel the scruff of his beard and the pain of how hard Aaron gripped onto him, moved into him. He was moving backward and hit the door of Aaron’s closet, and Aaron started to kiss his jawline as he tugged down on Robert’s shirt.

He hurried it off his shoulders, trying not to move too much, wanting Aaron to keep touching him, kissing him — it felt like he waited forever. Like he just woke up a few days ago under the mistletoe when Aaron kissed him…

All his bottled up jealousy and attraction.  

All the love.

He grabbed Aaron’s face, their eyes met, and he let out a breath. It was shaky, scared. They were changing so much about them right now — but it felt right. It felt ridiculous to have waited. He swallowed. “We can’t be afraid, Aaron.”

Aaron nodded, but his breath quickened. “It’s just scary…how much I feel about you…”

Robert nodded, and he grabbed Aaron’s sweater. “Why is this still on…”

“Don’t know.”

He pulled it off and dropped it to the floor.

“That’s new, you know.”

“You’re never going to wear it again,” Robert said as he kissed Aaron’s neck.

“Shit…” Aaron gripped onto him.

“Like that…” he did it again.

“Rob…” Aaron’s hands were on his belt buckle.

“Hurry up,” he muttered, and it was his turn to push Aaron.

Back and back until they landed on the bed, the springs creaking and both of them laughing, then kissing and touching, and yanking on clothes and kicking….

Robert found himself on his back, Aaron over him, staring down right into him, through his eyes to his soul. His heart pounded. “Aaron…”

“What?”

“You’re everything.”

Aaron sniffed and looked away.

Robert ran his hands up his arms.

Aaron looked back at him and nodded.

~~~

They collapsed together, tangled up, out of breath, and both of them feeling smug, and Aaron stared at Robert’s smuggest smile and thought that it was his — all his. He made it happened. He got to enjoy everything Robert was rightfully smug about. He got to made to feel like he was amazing and worthy and lit afire…

Robert’s word was right. It was everything. Robert was everything.

And his eyes blinked closed.

And opened.

To Robert’s sleeping face.

He swallowed, every second of making love — god, it had been, hadn’t it? He felt his whole body flush, with heat, from the intimacy, the passion. Every kiss, every touch, he couldn’t forget it — the talking and the laughing. The quiet. Robert begging him to be slower, take longer, there was no hurry….

There was no hurry.

He let out a shocked breath to at the…

Lessening of his fear.

But he got it now. Robert’s word was right. Everything. When you loved someone that deeply — he did love him. Love Robert. Possibly from the minute they met, and he became the person he relied on the most…

He knew it, but he hadn’t known it.

Been too afraid of that, of losing him.

He was still terrified.

Robert’s eyes opened.

Aaron smiled.

“Are you watching me sleep?”

“Little bit…”

“Huh?” Robert smiled.

Aaron tried to move closer, but there wasn’t much room.

Robert held him tighter all the same.  

“Are you alright?” Robert whispered after a bit.

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” Robert sounded hesitant.

“Yes.”

“It’s just..didn’t seem like you planned…”

“You can’t, can ya, plan this?”

Robert nodded. “Guess not, but you know…”

“I’m still afraid I might always be a bit… you mean everything.”

“I know, you too…”

“I knew…you were standing there going about Ibiza and Liv… and how you just fixed it, fixed the mix up so I’d be happier… you always do that, make things better for me…not even trying, not even meaning too…”

“Aaron…”

“No…I heard I was going to Ibiza with my sister — who I miss, and all I could think was I didn’t wanna leave ya.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…and I voiced it, and you just agreed to go someplace you hate, for me.”

Robert shrugged.

“I love ya,” Aaron whispered, and he was immediately kissed, then Robert’s face was buried into his neck. “I do.”

“You have no idea how much I love you too…”

“Bit of an idea…” Aaron whispered.

“Merry Christmas,” Robert whispered.

“It’s Boxing Day by now.”

“Fine. Happy Boxing Day,” Robert laughed.

“Sleep…” Robert whispered.

Aaron nodded, and they curled into each other, maneuvering so they were both comfortable, and then they faced each other and giggled, kissed, giggled, and kissed…

Until Aaron’s eyes slipped closed again.

And for a second time, he woke up in Robert’s arms…

He felt out of breath for a second, terrified by the love but more certain than ever, and… he carefully got out of the bed, found his phone on the floor with his pants, and snuck out of his room. He walked down to the kitchen and looked at the time —

No, he couldn’t wait.

He dialed Liv’s number.

“Aaron…” she was sleepy. “Did he tell ya,” she said anyway.

He sighed, he felt bad, but… “Look, Liv, I need you to do me a really big favor.”

“What?”

“Um…Robert and I got together last night.”

“Together?”

“We're…you know together.”

“Oh. Oh. Finally.”

Aaron couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, well…um. I don’t really want to take off in few days without him…”

“Or have your little sister around?”

He breathed a sigh of relief, she said. “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? Just like that?”

“No, but…you should be with him.”

“I’ll see you as soon as we’re back…we’ll figure something out.”

“I know. He can come too if you want.”

“Liv, thanks…”

“You sound happy.”

Aaron looked upstairs. “I am.”

“Alright, it’s only seven. I’m going back to bed…Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

“What was that?” Robert’s voice made him jump. “Sorry.”

“What you sneaking up on me for?"

"I woke up. You weren’t there…” Robert stepped closer. “Were you on the phone?”

“I called Liv.”

“Why?”

“To ask her if it was alright, we went on our own.”

“Aaron…”

“Don't…” Aaron grabbed Robert’s waist. “Just don’t. I want to be with you, alone, and… yeah, she gets it. She said finally.”

Robert laughed. “Think we might get a lot of that.”

“We’ll survive.”

“I don’t know, Ibiza.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me…”

It wasn’t long before they fell back into the bed, naked again, the laughter fading to something more — something that would last as long as everything implied.

[rebelcap]

We are not just friends — part 9

Chris Evans x bi!latina!character (Sofia is a person of color, she's brown.)

Chris and Sofia meet when their best friends started dating, it all started at friends with loads of bumps on the road.  

Warnings: drinking, smoking, drug use (weed), assault, Chris being Steve Rogers, commitment issues, my girl Sofia kinda messy, lots of fucking (eventually) 

This is slow burn at its best, at least emotionally. 

Series masterlist

“ It's not fancy, isn't it?” Sofia asked going through her suitcase in the middle of the bed, hoping to find something to wear.

“ Nah, it's casual. Like a get-together—” Chris answered her thought the phone, they were Facetiming as they both get ready.

“Alright, what about… this and this?” She said holding up a red mini skirt with a red crop top. “I feel like matching.”

“Love it, red suits you. “ Chris answered and Sofía wiggle on the bed and began undressing, not caring for modesty as Chris looked at her.

“Enjoying the show? creep. “ She laughed as Chris rubbed her beard watching her get undressed, she wasn't being sexy or anything close, Chris just find her fucking hot all the time.

“Sure, don't mind me.” Chris answered her smiling. “want me to pick you up?”

“No honey, it's okay. I'll Uber the rest so you can't have to drive back and forth.’

‘I really don't mind, Sof.’

‘I know, but you know how I am with getting ready. I don't want you running late and shit. It's fine, you go ahead and I'll text you when I'm there.”

‘You sure?”

‘Yes, dumbass. You go ahead I'll text you. “ She said kissing the screen making Chris laugh.

“Alright, I'll be going then. call me. “

They hung up and Chris go ahead and grabbed his things and went ahead to his friend's birthday.

And Sofia took her time and arrived forty-five minutes later cause she can.

Chris was already waiting for her outside, having a sly smoke and playing with his phone on the side of the building, high-end building on LA.

Sofia called him out and shake her head when she saw the cigarette on his hand and Chris put it out.

“Sorry, I know you hate it. “

“It's bad for you. “

“I know—You're pretty,” Chris observed her, she was wearing what she shows him earlier, looked much better on her, red was definitely her color.

“Do I? I feel a little silly. I nervous—I don't know.” She nervously laughed shrugging as Chris pulled her in for a quick kiss. “I don't know anyone.”

“Neither do I, really. I know some of them.” Chris told her and she hummed. “I'm a little anxious.”

Sofia smiled and kissed him again, he wrapped his arms around her waist and fight the urge to grab her ass.

“We should go in.” He said letting her go and she agreed, rearranging her skirt and walked in with Chris.

The party wasn't what she was expecting, you know like a get together a few beers and friends hanging out but no, it was a full-blown party with a lot of people.

She didn't say anything as Chris greet people and introduced them to her, it was a little taxing but she did it anyway because it's Chris.

“Dude, so many people.”

“Yes, I thought it wasn't like this.” He looked at her with an apologetic look.

“It's fine, you do your thing and I'll mingle with that bar over there.” She told him with a smile and almost pushed him towards his friends.

“You sure?”

“Yes, go.” Sofía pushed him again and Chris leans over and plants a quick kiss on the top of her head.

“You're the best, it will be just for a little bit. I'll be back.” He kissed her again and disappear on the crowd and she looked forward to the bar, maybe getting a little bit tipsy will loosen her up but the crowd here was way different to what she and Mandy hung out back at home.

She felt pretentious wearing matching top and skirt, she couldn't imagine what she would feel wearing a thousand-dollar dress like the bunch of girls over there.

She grabbed a beer and isolated herself to a corner, where she could observe the party—witch was absolutely cool with her, what she wasn't expecting was seeing Chris's ex-girlfriend chatting with some girls and pointing out exactly where he was.

“Oh boy.” She mumbles drinking her beer and looked at her walk through until she reached him and he acted amicable with her, hugs and cheeks being kissed.

At that moment she decided to get fucked up and dance if he was going to be with his ex might as well she find something to do at this stupid party. Sofia quickly drank her beer and head back to the bar to do a few shots, clearly catching the attention of a few guys hovering over there.

“Hey,” One of them says, he had a kind smile and was attractive enough.

“Hi.” She said back, smiling too.

They chatted for a bit, his name was Tom, he's a publicist and single.

“You came here with someone?” Tom asked as she sips her drink, the second one.

“Mm-hm, with my friend.” She vaguely said, not wanting to hint that it was Chris.

“Oh, do I know her?” He asked, trying to find out who and assumed it was a girl.

“It's a he and probably you do.” Sofía quickly answers and without thinking looked back at where he was before and his back was facing her while he talked to his ex's ear. Sofia couldn't help but sigh deeply and drank the rest of the drink. “Can I have another one?” She flagged the bartender and he quickly began making her another.

“You work on the industry?” He asked taking a sip of his own drink and Sofia realized that he really didn't like this dude anymore, she didn't want to talk about work of the industry.

“Not really—”

“You should, you've got this young Salma Hayek thing going on.” He said moving his hands and Sofia raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, we're both Latinas.”

“Really? where you from?”

“Yeap, Argentina,” Sofía answered back and quickly looked back at Chris and he kept talking with his ex, now drinks in hand and he had that pink on his cheeks and moving his hands.

man, am I jealous? She thought for a second but quickly shake her head and looked at Tom, trying to find out if she could possibly, at least, make out.

But he was a little off-putting and Sofia started thinking that he was recruiting or some shit—witch she wasn't interested at all. Leave that to the talented people, she wasn't that.

“—You know, I could introduce you to our manager. We're looking for someone with your profile, there's a lot of new—”

“I'm going to stop you there because I've got no interest in having a manager or working on the industry.” She said that with a mocking tone. “I'm good at my normal job.”

Tom actually scoffed at her then shake his head, “Then what are you doing at a party like this? are you an escort?”

Sofia was the one to scoff now and give Chris another look, and his ex had her arm around his waist they were going to make out anytime soon. Now she really wanted to get the fuck out of here.

“I came with a friend, whatever. Bye,” She waves him off and turned her back at him, not bothering to see if he walked away or not.

She pulled her phone and furiously text Mandy.

Christofer, it's all cozy with his fucking ex and people here are treating me like I am a fucking escort.

“I'm a fucking idiot.” She mutters to herself after she press sends, totally regretting that because she knows how she exaggerates things.

Baby, leave that party. Go to the hotel and we'll talk.

Sofia stare at the screen and decided that Mandy's idea wasn't bad, at all. She wasn't going to wait around as Chris fuck the girl—and she did felt bad like it wasn't enough for him. She looked one more time and indeed, they were absolutely making out.

“Yeah, fuck this.”

~~

“I can't do this anymore,” Chris push her away and shake his head."I came here with someone, I can't be doing this. She's important to me,"

She scoffed, "Yet, you are here making out with me. Why then? " She asked and tried to resume the kissing.

"No, I can't—I shouldn't be here," He turned around and drank the rest of his beer praying that Sofia didn't see that.

Of course, she wasn't picking up, Chris began to panic actual panic as he quickly typed.

Where are you? can't find you.

Sof, are you okay?

Please call me.

Sofía was walking as she looked at the screen and scoffed, the hotel wasn't that far and she feels like walking trying to clear off her mind. For a moment there she had those awful flashbacks with Tiffany, she used to do the same shit, worst of all she allowed it. She knew that this was nothing, that they weren't absolutely nothing besides friends but if this is how he was gonna behave as friends.

"I'm walking to the hotel," She spoke softly at the phone, it was Mandy.

"What happened?" She asked and Sofia told her the whole thing. "Well fuck, he's calling me,"

"Yeah I should probably let him know that I'm heading to the hotel before he called the police," Sofia said softly and sighed. "Tiffany used to pull this shit—

"He's not Tifanny, "

"Yeah, I'll talk to you back at the hotel. I'm going to text him and buy booze." Sofia said and tell their goodbyes and hung up.

Chris was calling again and Sofia picked up.

"I'm fine, I'm going to the hotel."

"Jesus Christ, Sofia. I was freaking out,"

"Yeah, sure," She laughs bitterly. "Whatever, I'm going to sleep. I'll text your assistant the details for the contract and photoshoot. You still wanna do that?, or I call the whole thing off? no pressure."

"You saw, don't you?"

"Whole fucking party saw that kiss, dude." She said softly, "It's okay, but I don't wanna be in the middle of nothing. I thought you had figured it out and moved on,"

"I did fuck. I'm sorry Sof—"

"Did you? you were just fucking kissing her."

"It took me by surprised, I told her I was with you that—come on, can we talk about it?"

"We are,"

"In-person, Sof."

"I'm tired Chris, I'm kinda drunk and I'm about to enter the hotel lobby." She said softly. "Are you in for tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I'll be there," Chris answered defeated. "I'm sorry Sofia."

"Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow." She hung up.

~~

He fucked up.

Thanks everyone! ❤️

Tag list:

@letsdothemonstermash

@lunaticbarnes

@firstangeldragonranch

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[winchester90210]

The BH 90210 Rewrite. 1x13: Slumber Party

Rewrite Masterlist

Read the previous chapter here!

Chapter Summary: Junk food is had, secrets are exposed, and flings are revealed...

Warnings: mentions of sex, swearing, one minor make out scene.

Word count: 2,900

My work is not to be reposted and/or edited without my expressed written consent. (Reblogging is fine and encouraged!!)

The flashback is in italics.

Feedback is incredibly appreciated! :)

A/N: This is one of my favorite episodes! Hope you guys enjoy it! Sorry about the scheduling issue, next week should go as planned. Feedback on this chapter would be wonderful! :)

-

"Are you sure this thing isn't a slumber party?" Kelly criticizes. You open your locker as your friends begin to bicker on both sides of you. Something akin to petty surround sound.

"I told you! It's a night of female bonding-- a chance for us to get together and talk about what's important," Brenda explains.

"But we're doing it in our PJs," Donna interjects.

"Well, that would make sense unless you prefer to sleep in your clothes," You say, "Bren, I think it's a great idea. It could be fun!"

<!-- more -->

"Can we invite some guys to come over later? I mean, after we've talked and bonded and everything?" Kelly asks.

"Kelly, I thought what we wanted was an evening to ourselves where we don't have to think about guys, talk about guys, or worry about what we look like 'cause some guy is around. Isn't that what we said?" She nods, rolling her eyes. "So what's the problem?"

"Nothing!" She leans against the lockers, "Actually... there is one thing. I kinda made plans with this other friend of mine, Amanda Pacer. You don't know her, she's a senior, but we have been friends forever."

"So bring her," you suggest, taking out your history book and shutting your locker.

"Well... I know this may sound stupid, but I don't want her to think this is a slumber party... It's not a slumber party, right?"

-

"Brenda! Kelly, Y/N, and Donna are here to bond with you!" Brandon shouts up the stairs, laden in his all-white Peach Pit uniform. He looked so cute, this "no guy" rule was pointless. Especially when the said guys looked like that. "Hey Y/N/N," he kisses you softly, pulling you closer to him.

"Hey," you mumble. He gives you a hard, dizzying, coffee-flavored kiss as he slowly backs into the front door. You hum against him happily, "I'll pay you to stay, I'm serious. Cold hard cash." He grins, slipping his warm hands under the sides of your jacket, holding onto your hips gently.

"As much as I'd like to, I promised Nat I'd pick up this shift."

"Tell him you have other business to attend to. Like getting me out of this slumber party. Nat'll understand," you plead jokingly. One more soft, sweet kiss and he lets go of you. "Brandon..." he smiles at you adoringly and turns towards the other two girls waiting in the foyer, pretending that they weren't just watching everything you two were doing.

"Have fun, ladies," he swings the front door open and leaves as quickly as possible, knowing that if he stayed any longer you'd actually end up convincing him to stay. As one Walsh exits, another enters as Brenda comes down the stairs wearing a long, plaid nightshirt. But before she's even fully down the stairs, Kelly starts to complain.

"Brenda, this is really weird."

"Kelly, we are going to have fun! Where's Amanda?"

"Oh, she's coming later," She fidgets awkwardly, "She uh, wanted to bring her own car in case..."

"Something better came along," Donna interjects.

"I think this might be a little too down-home for her."

"Kelly, we're not going on hayrides," you cut in.

-

"Okay, we have chocolate ice cream,vanilla ice cream, chocolate syrup, and whipped cream!" Brenda announces as you pour the doritos into a bowl. It's a scramble of hands and junk food as you all grab what you want.

"Do you have any other cookies?" Kelly asks.

"Yeah! I think they're in the cupboard," Brenda nods.

"Oh, I love cookies smushed in ice cream!" Andrea beams, "it's the best."

"You ever put popcorn in ice cream?" Donna wonders. The group groans in disgust. "Hey, it's really good!" You hop on the counter next to where Donna is and grab a chip

"Well, there's microwave popcorn in a bowl over there, knock yourself out," Brenda giggles, handing you your bowl of chocolate ice cream.

"Thanks," you smile, "Hey, Amanda, what do you want? Vanilla or chocolate?" You glance over to Kelly's friend as you help the girls put together their sundaes, and she's sitting alone at the kitchen table with her arms crossed, pouting.

"Nothing for me, thanks."

"Oh, come on, Amanda. You're gonna make us all look like pigs!" Kelly exclaims.

"You said it, I didn't," Amanda ostracizes. The room goes radio silent, but instead of bumming out the room, Brenda starts snorting like a pig at her while the rest of you laugh and pick up your junk food.

-

"Donna, that is so gross!" Kelly laughs, watching as her best friend shows vanilla ice cream and popcorn into her mouth all in one spoon. Your cheeks already hurt from laughing, but you couldn't stop smiling.

"I know, but I like it! I don't know why, but I do, okay?"

"This is something you can never do with guys," Kelly smirks, piling on the whipped cream to her sundae.

"What?" Andrea asks.

"Pig out!" The five of you giggle as Brenda turns to Amanda, who's once again decided to remove herself from the group.

"Do you eat on dates, Amanda?"

"Never. But I always order something expensive," her voice is sharp, and she's slumped back in the white chair in the far corner of the room.

"Why?"

"To let them know I'm worth it," she shrugs.

"I knew it was over for me and Steve when I started pigging out everytime we went out to eat," she scoffs.

"He never took you out to eat, Kelly," Donna giggles, and then everyone, (excluding Ms. Grump Pants, of course) bursts out in laughter.

-

"I am in... sugar shock." Brenda sighs, resting her head on your shoulder as you lean back onto the couch, smushed up against the other girls.

"I feel like I just gained ten pounds," Andrea groans.

"So, what do you guys want to do now?" Kelly ponders.

"Ooh, lets rent Pretty Woman!" Donna suggests.

"Donna, you've seen that movie 300 times," Kelly snickers.

"It's dependable. You know, sometimes I think about running away and becoming a hooker on Hollywood boulevard," she puts her fist up to her heart, fawning, "just so I can meet Richard Gere."

"There's only one problem... you're not Julia Roberts."

"Look, we're not going to rent a movie... or become prostitutes," you tease Donna, "The whole point of this was so we could talk. Andrea, go get your Ouija board."

-

You settle back down onto the couch after coming very close to crapping your pants because of what you thought was the Ouija board... which just ended up being David Silver sneaking creepy pictures of you guys through the window. You breathe deeply as your heart rate settles down. Amanda checks her watch and scoffs.

"It's after midnight."

"What, do frat boys turn into pumpkins?" Brenda bites sarcastically.

"No, they turn into drunken slobs." You sure made my night," she complains.

"Amanda, you didn't have to come!" Kelly barks.

"What? And miss all the fun? The party games?" She laughs sardonically, "I don't want to leave anymore. Everyone's ruined my night," she takes off her beige coat and throws it on the chair. "It's my turn to ruin their's. Okay everyone. I've got a game if you're up for it. Skeletons in the closet. Everyone sits in a circle, and the person in the middle has to answer all their questions as honestly as possible. The kind of question is up to you, whatever you feel like asking. Of course, the better the question, the better the game."

-

"Go ahead. Ask me anything," Andrea smiles nervously.

"Why does everybody call you 'Awwwndrea?'" Amanda starts.

"Excuse me?"

"What are you, British? I mean... Awwwwndrea?" Amanda guffaws.

"That is pretty pretentious," Kelly adds.

"Kelly," you warn her.

"It's pronounced both ways. But An-dree-uh is a little boring and common. I like to be different."

"Good answer," you smile.

"So, am I through?"

Amanda studies her carefully, "No. Not yet... have you ever slept with a guy before?" What the hell was wrong with this girl?

"That's... a little personal. But uh... no. No, I have never slept with a guy before. Yet."

"Well, if you could sleep with any guy in school, who would it be?"

Andrea chuckles anxiously, looking down at the ground. "Come on, you guys. I can't answer that..."

"Yeah, you can. You can trust us, Andrea... well," you glance at Amanda, "most of us, at least."

"Uh... I don't know. I guess... I guess uh..."

"Brandon?" Kelly cuts in.

"What?" You glare at Kelly.

"No." Andrea answers, "No. Not Brandon. No... it would have to be Hans Fleischman. He is this incredibly gorgeous lifeguard who pulled me out of the water when I was stung by a jellyfish at Zuma beach last summer." You adjust in your seat uncomfortably while the Kelly snickers in disbelief at Andrea. "Hey, what is this? Brandon is just a friend."

"Wait-- wait a second. Is this the same Brandon that's all over her everyday?" Amanda laughs out, "Sweetie... get a life. You like him. Everybody already knows." You sure didn't. "And he likes her." You don't even dare to look up from your thumbs. What the hell were you supposed to do in this situation? Sure, you encouraged her to answer it but you didn't think it would be Brandon. You would feel weird comforting her, but you still feel weird just sitting there and letting her get harrassed.

"Okay... okay. So it-- it is Brandon." Her eyes well up as she stutters through her words. The room is silent for a moment before you hop to your feet.

"Well, this has been a blast," you huff, "I'm gonna go get a soda. Anyone else have plans to seduce my boyfriend? Kelly? Donna? Hey, how about you, Amanda?"

-

After Kelly's turn, to which she described her traumatic first sexual experience, and Brenda's where she describes how she betrayed her best friend back in Minneapolis... you were really starting to hate this game.

"Come on, Donna, you've gotta have some secrets," Kelly encourages.

"I don't! I tell you guys everything!"

"If you could go out with any guy in school, who would it be?!" Brenda asks. Let me guess, Brandon?

"Greg Houseman. You know that, she never stops talking about him," Kelly sighs.

"What is the most dishonest thing you've ever done?" You ask, curling your legs up to your chest. She pauses to think for a moment.

"Nothing..."

"Didn't anybody in your family go insane or something? Anything?"

"No... we're all really normal," she shrugs. The thing was, she's right. You've been to her house. Her mother is great, her dad's really nice, her house is perfect... she was completely normal.

"You know what your problem is, Donna?" Amanda prompts, "Your life is totally boring. Anyone who can't dredge up one secret about themselves is either lying or a total zero."

"That is not true," you snap.

"Why, what are you hiding, Y/N/N?"

"Nothing, Amanda."

"Oh, really? That's not what I hear... or what I've seen."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Get in the circle," she smirks, this time deviously. Dangerously. You follow her orders, moving from the floor to the chair.

"What's your favorite movie?" Brenda asks.

"Rebel without a Cause."

"What's your favorite color?"

"Baby pink," you watch Amanda out of the corner of your eye, getting more and more frustrated at the boring questions.

"Oh, come on! You guys are such a drag!" She leans forward, smirking, "What's going on with you and Dylan McKay?" You look at her confused.

"He's dating her," you gesture towards Brenda, "Not me." Amanda shakes her head immediately, as if she knew you were going to say that.

"Do I need to dumb it down for you, sweetheart? What happened at the Bel Age a few months ago, y'know, when you jumped him?"

"What?" Brenda says quietly, her voice breaking. She looks at you as tears start to brim her eyes.

"Bren, wait a second--"

"Did you sleep with my boyfriend?" Your jaw goes agape and you laugh sourly in shock.

"You really think I'd sleep with Dylan?!" A pit of guilt was forming in your stomach as you tensed up.

"I don't know what to think, Y/N! All I know is you two spend an awful lot of time together alone and now I'm hearing that you pounced on him!" she snaps. Oh my god. You couldn't believe this was happening.

"That's not what happened, Bren!"

"Fine!" She scoffs bitterly, "what happened, then?"

"So, I was at the Bel Age a few months ago, Brandon had just gotten the job at the Peach Pit..."

-

"I don't wanna go home yet," you told him. The Porsche rumbled as Dylan warmed it up. He raised an eyebrow at you as he leaned back.

"Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere you want to take me." Those would be words you would later come to regret. Asking a hot guy with a leather jacket and a Porsche to have his way with you? Bold move. Dumb move, too. He could've taken you anywhere. Baja, the abandoned elementary school, anywhere. But where did he take you? The Bel Age hotel.

When you walked in he popped the radio on and you sat down as a Gloria Estefan song played quietly throughout the hotel room. Dylan was over at the wet bar, pouring himself a glass of scotch. Looking back, it was the only time you'd ever seen him drink something in moderation.

"You drink?" He asked, looking back at you.

"I could start," you shrug. And that was the first of many bad decisions you'd make in that hotel room. He grabs a second pint glass, but you weren't paying much attention to him as he clanked around, trying to pour you something that wouldn't make you gag.

He hands you the concoction and sits down beside you, his legs against yours. A little closer than normal, but you didn't think anything of it. Fidgeting anxiously, you began to drink whatever it was he gave you. It was new, being alone with him like that. Sure, you could hang out with him in groups but... just you and him? You tilted the glass back, letting the smooth and surprisingly digestible liquor flow down your throat until there was nothing left in your glass. This stuff was supposed kill anxiety, right? He eyes you up. Peculiarly, but not critically.

"Thirsty?"

"Yeah, you could say that." He would continue to fill your glass, and his own, for that matter, all night. He'd put on his Road House VHS tape somewhere in the middle. And you were watching it. You really were. But as the movie went on longer, you got closer. A fairly innocent movie night (the first of many) turned into a night full of regrets.

His hand was on your leg right before the first kiss happened, thumb drawing dizzying little circles on your thigh as he watched the movie. You're sure if you showed any signs of discomfort he would've stopped-- that fact gave you peace in the moment. But the last thing you wanted him to do was stop. So he didn't. And neither did you. It wasn't until later, when his lips were trailing down your jaw, hands pushing your dress up, and his own white t-shirt was somewhere on the floor next to you. That's when it came to a crashing halt. Removing his lips from your neck, he sighed.

"What is it?" You asked. The air between you two was intense, sensitive. One move and he'd be back on top of you, starting the cycle all over again.

"What about Minnesota?" He slides you off of his lap in one swift motion, but his hand was lingering on your hip.

"What about Brandon?"

"Come on, you've seen how he is around you. I don't want to get in the way of that, mess anything up."

"You're not messing anything up. If Brandon was interested he would've made a move already."

Cut to you, current day, girlfriend of the mentioned boy, "Hah... whoops."

"But either way... this is a bad idea, isn't it?" You sheepishly picked up the shirt from the floor and handed it back to him. "So," you cleared your throat, "Friends?"

"Yeah," he chuckled, fiddling with the shirt in his hand. The energy in the room was different then, awkward. Laughable. But friendly.

"And that was it," you finish, "We're friends. Kissing him now would be no different than kissing Donna or Kelly."

"You wouldn't have kissed him if you didn't like him!"

"I do like him. As a friend," you plead, "Bren, I've been supporting you guys since day one, I would never do something to hurt you." You search her eyes for something. A little bit of waivering, forgiveness, pity. Anything at this point. Stupid Amanda and her stupid skeleton game. Brenda avoids your gaze for a moment.

"And nothing's happened since then?" She chokes out. You see her shoulders rise and fall as she takes in a shaky breath.

"Nothing's happened since then."

She lets out a deep sigh, almost out of relief, but tears are still threatening to spill from her eyes "Okay... I guess I understand." As she says that, it's like every muscle in your body lets go of the stress it had been holding for the past few weeks. You really hate secrets.

"Uh, Bren... I have a confession to make," Kelly pipes up from the side of the room, "After you started going out with Dylan I tried to get a date with him." Oh shit.

-

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Taglist: @be-patient-be-good @mpmarypoppins @bevelyhills90210 @blueoz @harleylilo88 @princess-ghost-alien @hueycat2004 @l4life @keepcalm-and-beyou

[nessamaurice]

Simple Ch. 6 (Loki x F!Reader)

Masterlist

Summary: Tony and the Avengers are in desperate need of something like a “babysitter” to have an eye on Loki and teach him “how to human”. He decided to stay on Midgard over the dungeons of Asgard as punishment for his deeds in New York. That’s where you swoop in. A simple receptionist at the Avengers compound. You have to share an apartment in the compound with Loki and damn, he’s a really tough nut. With your open and kind character it seems that you are slowly cracking his shell. But suddenly things are getting twists that will change your life and your relationships there irreversibly.

Story rating: M

Chapter trigger warnings: harming

Words: 2108

6

It turned out the tests Bruce made with you seemed to be alright, nothing you didn't knew or that wasn’t indicated before. The following days passed without anything special happening, except your relation with Loki. You tried to pick up the conversation with Loki again but apparently the moment was over. He shut himself off again. But you didn't miss out that he continued to feel more comfortable around you. The next day he accepted your tea offering for the first time. That made you ridiculously happy and you couldn't hide the big grin appearing on your face.

"What's so funny?"

"What? Oh, no, nothing." After a few moments of silence you couldn't hold back, "Do you like my tea? Today I chose a rose flavored green tea. I love the scent of roses. I don't like the flowers themselves, they are everywhere you look, being pretentious, I'm just weary of them, but their scent...“ You let out a little, soft moan. „Wonderful."

Your rambling was met with silence and you almost gave in, disappointed. But before you looked away you could see a small smirk tugging on his lips.

A few days later you just couldn't contain yourself anymore. You turned in your winged chair to Loki.

"How are you feeling today?"

"...What?"

"How do you feel? We've been sharing these rooms for quite a few days now and have barely spoken to each other. Tell me something. Anything. Or ask me something! Just let us interact in any way. I can't take it any longer."

He looked you straight in the eyes, the dimmed sunlight making the green-blue almost glow. Then a question seemed to pop up in his mind.

"What are you reading?"

You looked down at the book on your lap. "What I’m reading? Oh, that is something specific. It's called Antiquitates Iudaicae. It's not that easy to read, it's not like a novel or something, it is more like a history book. The text is about 1900 years old. A roman-jewish historian named Flavius Josephus tries to explain his beliefs to the Greek to help them understand his culture."

"Why are you reading this, since it is not easy to read?"

"I am a faithful person and it helps me a bit understanding the setting and the time when the bible was written. There are no other ancient Jews from the first century left around here, so I wanted to know how he tried to explain his culture to persons that have no relation with it."

"So, you believe in god? Then you must be humbled to be in the presence of one." A lofty expression appeared on his face, but was wiped away the second you started laughing.

"I'm sorry, really. Don't want to be disrespectful. But do you really think you are a god? Just because you have access to other dimensions and live a few thousand years? Not that this wouldn't be highly impressive, honestly. But you are as far away from being a god than I am. You are a creation, not a creator."

Loki wanted to say something but the words kept stuck in his throat. His face turned sly.

"You have no idea what I am capable of." His voice was low and husky.

"You are completely right. If there was some sort of food chain, I'd clearly be beyond you because of your many skills and knowledge. But they don't make you the summit, neither. Look, I totally see why the ancient Norse people thought of you as gods. What you can do is really admirable. But I would never give you this title. I got too much respect of it."

Loki tried to swallow down his anger. He really wanted to behave but even more he wanted you to explain that. "So, what do you think deserves this title?"

"Love. Compassion. Mercy. Omnipotence. I think, nothing in the whole universe happens without him allowing it to happen. Even the bad things. For the most people it's hard to accept that. They blame him for all the terrible things. It's not like that he would cause the bad things to happen. But he knows exactly what's going on. He knows every outcome of every move. And, I believe, he leads us on the tracks we should go. Not like we are just marionettes and he sets every move, but at some points, big decisions that give our lifes a turn, he may give us a certain push. A lot dreadful stuff happened to me in my life, but who knows that it couldn't have been even worse? Who is able to say the way it went is not the best of all possibilities? Even if it is hard to cope with, I know he gives me the strength to get through. Whether it is some sort of energy that comes from within me or he puts people in my life that will help me with whatever comes my way. But that is my totally personal point of view. The nice thing is, I don't have to persuade anyone to believe the same. My faith is individual. Nobody has to agree with me. This is what helps me get through life. Not to give up.... What sort of faith do you have? ...if you have one at all?"

Loki listened carefully and his face slowly softened as he followed your thoughts. He seemed a bit surprised as you addressed the question to him, like he was asked for his opinion for the first time in his life.

"That is a very interesting point of view, I have to admit. I can imagine that it is not very popular, but interesting, though. I... I never really developed something you could call faith. My culture is full of myths and legends. I learned everything about our Allfathers and Gods, but never took it really personal. I was not attracted to do so."

He stopped talking and started pondering on that thought. You watched his face, his eyes getting lost. You used the opportunity to take a closer look and studied his face. It was edgy and delicate at the same time. His bright eyes pierced right through you every time he looked at you. He was very concentrated on what he wanted to say next, so you simply kept quiet and waited for him to form his thoughts into words. It was rather beautiful to watch his mind work.

After a short while he continued, "I think there might be something like a higher force that has impact on our lives. But that started just recently. I long thought that I am the master of every of my own steps and if I place them right, everything will work out just fine. I will get what I want if I only fight hard enough for it. So that's what I did, I fought for my own purposes. But all I got was misery, sorrow and hatred." 

You could literally see his pain boiling up from the inside. It was tearing him in two. You reacted out of instinct and reached out to lay your hand on his cheek. His eyes darted at you immediately, turning glassy. Softly you stroke over his cheek with your thumb. You wished you could just pull him into a tight embrace and help him let go of all expectations towards himself. To put down his guard. It was like you could literally feel his inner need of ease and solace. But he was just too much of a proud man. He pressed his lips together and pushed your hand away, abruptly stood up, stepping towards the window front, staring outside with his arms crossed.

"I'm sorry." Was all that came to your mind. Pathetic, you thought. And he thought that as well.

"You have no idea what you are talking about." He hissed turning towards you. "Don't act like you would understand. YOU HAVE NO IDEA!" He shouted at you and disappeared right in front of your eyes. You sat there in your winged chair, nonplussed. You looked around the room, but no sight of him.

Far beyond puzzled, you started to talk with the air. "I... I don't if you are still here? But, I wanted to say that you are right. I have no idea what you've been through. What it feels like to be in your skin. If I were, I know I would have done the same that you did, because you are the only person that feels this way. I am no one to judge. I never judge. Well, at least I try. The big truth is that it's simply impossible to compare individuals with each other. We are the summaries of our experiences and we all have our very own way of perceiving the world around us. So, I have to add as well that you also have no idea what you are talking about. I do understand. Traumata are a serious thing and everyone reacts differently to that, but don't treat me like I had no empathy. Maybe everyone else treated you like you didn't even had the right to speak your mind, but I'm not like this. You are intelligent and attentive and if you haven't noticed that by now, you are obviously blinded by some kind of rage and hatred. And pride. But I don't want to push you. Just know that I won't let you treat me like this. I will not leave you because I can imagine that you've been left too often in your life, but I will not tolerate it. Okay, and because it feels like I have a serious conversation with myself outside of my head I'm gonna go into the kitchen to get me a drink because that's fucking strange. Feel free to join me there."

You sat on a barstool and looked out of the giant window front at the other side of the even bigger room. You felt the cold sweat of the glass condensing in your hand, running over your fingers. Totally lost in your thoughts you didn't notice Steve sitting down next to you. He really tried not to startle you but failed.

"Sorry Y/N. Just thought you looked like something was on your mind you'd like to talk about?"

"No problem. Ah, no, it's okay. There were just some intense emotions between Loki and me."

Looking at his raised eyebrows you awkwardly cleared your throat as you explained yourself, "Oh no no no, not something like that. Totally not. No no." Somehow you dwelled in that thought a bit too long.

"Well, that were lots of 'no's but okay." Steve laughed and pushed you slightly with his shoulder to the side.

Before you could blush too obviously you changed topic, "Have you seen Tony? The last time I saw him was when were having pizza. Is everything alright?"

"To be honest I haven't seen him, neither. Well, at least not in person. I walked by the lab and saw him video chatting with Bruce, so he must be okay. But don't worry, wouldn't be the first time he disappears for a few days without telling anyone. ... Are you sure you don't want to talk about what's weighing you down?"

"Thank you Steve. Everything's fine." You conjured a smile though you didn't felt like smiling which made it totally implausible. But Steve accepted you didn't want to talk right now. He assured you can knock on his door whenever you wanted before he left the open kitchen of the common room again. You really, really hoped Loki would show up in the kitchen. You imagined both of you together having a drink, talking, enjoying each other's companionship... But you were pulled out of your day dream by a polite voice.

"Miss Y/N, your presence is demanded outside of the personal rooms."

"What? Me? For what?" You thought JARVIS sounded differently than usual.

"I am sorry, Miss, but I was not given further information than it being important and urgent."

"Uhm, okay. Sure. Just a sec." You gulped down the rest of your Gin Tonic and jumped off the barstool. For a moment it felt like someone was slightly brushing your arm as to hold you. You stopped, looked around, but didn't see anyone, so you went on.

After you slipped into your shoes and a coat you were going down to the ground floor with the lift. The doors opened and the blood in your veins froze. Two giant, black-suited men immediately entered the lift. One grabbed your arms and pulled them violently behind your back and the other one pressed a strongly sweet smelling piece of fabric on your mouth and nose. You felt a sharp sting right into the side of your neck just before everything went limp and dark.

Taglist: @it-jinxed-us​, @humbledarkness​, @lunawitch19