#well this fa of mine sure could fit the prompt

[andawaywego]

I’m the anon with the question about my prompt. No rush! I was just making sure it went through as i know that messages don’t always go through on this site lol. Mine was that Dani and Jamie get stuck in an elevator. Dani freaks out like she does in the first episode when the kids lock her in the closet and Jamie does her best to calm Dani down. Thank you for being so kind and doing this for the fandom 💕

hello again, love. i really felt this prompt and i might have taken it in a bit of a different direction than you initially intended. my apologies for that, but i hope you like it and that it fits the bill all the same.

i had another prompt regarding how Jamie would handle Dani’s panic attacks after they got together, as well, so this goes out to that person too!

..

Life in America is taking some getting used to. Life with Dani is taking some getting used to. Sometimes, it feels like Jamie is drowning in the unknown, in the uncertainty of everything around them—tidal wave after tidal wave of newness smashing into her every moment of every day.

Living with someone—sharing your life with someone—is like taking a crash course in everything that makes them them.

Dani forgets to blow candles out sometimes. She leaves her shampoo bottle open in the shower. She folds towels differently and likes to make the bed every morning. When she gets hungry, she gets really grouchy and is always surprised when eating makes her feel better. She chews at her lips when she’s lost in thought, sometimes leaving them sore and a little bloody. When Jamie buys her gum from the supermarket, she’ll chew it for hours on end and then complain that the flavor is gone.

Her mother comes knocking on the door of their apartment about five months into the whole thing, teary-eyed and touchy as she hugs Dani and apologizes for the long weeks of silence after that last phone call. Jamie hovers in the kitchen, pretending to clean or straighten the cupboards while they talk in the living room. She would hide in the bedroom, but she would have to walk past them to get there.

It’s some time later that Dani catches Jamie’s eye and waves her over, standing up as Jamie approaches and taking her hand. A united front as they stand above Dani’s mother, seated on the couch.

“Mom,” Dani says slowly, like she’s testing the word out on her tongue, “this is Jamie.”

And, of course, Jamie knows about that phone call, about her mother’s reaction to the news—her daughter’s supposed “abandonment” in moving states and states away from home; her shiny, new lifestyle and living with a girlfriend and all those things that made her keep them both at arm’s length.

But now, Mrs. Clayton is only silent for a breath or two before she gets to her feet, looking Jamie directly in the eyes as she says, “The famous Jamie. Nice to finally meet you.”

She shakes Jamie’s hand and there might be some hostility there—some lingering feeling that maybe Jamie seduced and corrupted her daughter—but her smile is genuine enough. Dani squeezes the hand she’s holding and grins and grins.

She hadn’t needed her mother’s approval, of course, but having it is nice enough anyway.

The visit is set to last a week, going right up to Christmas, and then Angela Clayton will be flying back to Ohio. Maybe it’s wrong of her, but Jamie is relieved, wanting nothing more than to spend this first Christmas with Dani on their own. 

That’s plenty of time, however, for Angela to invade their lives and inhabit every inch of their space. She cooks dinner every night, comes by their shop to steal Dani away for the afternoon—leaving Jamie to run things on her own. She pesters Dani endlessly with questions about her time in England and most of the answers she gets are lies. Blatant ones at that. 

It makes Jamie nervous, Dani having to be constantly reminded of all those things they haven’t been discussing. She does her best to provide what comfort she can without going overboard—a hand on her knee for just a few brief seconds; a touch to her shoulder. 

Saying I’m here and it’s okay, love as simply as she can manage without calling too much attention to it. This tentative truce and understanding between mother and daughter feels like a game of Jenga and the last thing Jamie wants to do is send the whole thing crashing to the floor.

But she sees the way Dani’s spine straightens with each question. The way she flinches at certain words or thoughts. These aren’t new things, necessarily—she’s seen them since they left Bly—but they start happening all the more frequently with Angela around.

Everything breaks on a Sunday, the last day of Angela’s visit. They’re at the shopping mall because Angela insisted on looking for Christmas presents for them—some overcompensation for her brand of mothering, perhaps, which actually involves less mothering and more smothering the longer it goes on. Jamie shoulders her way through two hours of trailing after her girlfriend and her girlfriend’s mother in silence, holding shopping bags and nodding whenever her opinion is needed, which is rare. 

Towels and bath mats and sheets. Cutlery and a crockpot and a floor lamp. Things that they definitely don’t need Angela to buy piling up the longer it goes on. 

But grin and bear it is Dani’s particular method of shuffling on, so Jamie does her best to follow her lead.

Eventually, they manage to break away for a little while—Dani citing a headache that might be hunger and wiggling out from beneath her mother’s thumb long enough to go to the food court. Angela is reluctant, but eventually waves them off, taking the bags from Jamie so she can continue looking in the shop they’re in. 

Out in the bustle of the mall again, Dani shakes her head and offers her girlfriend an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry,” she says, “I know she’s not the easiest to deal with.”

Jamie shakes her head. “She’s fine,” she returns, not a lie exactly but a slanting of the truth. “She loves you a lot.”

Dani sighs. “Out of guilt, maybe. She’s never been very good at showing it. Could have used this mom back when I was still a kid.” 

Here is where the conversation breaks. There are a few things that Jamie could say, all of which have been said before during any discussion of their respective mothers. A little comfort could be offered, pat on the shoulder, squeeze of the hand and all that. But she’s learning more about Dani every day and there are other ways to turn the conversation around. 

So she grins, loops her arms through Dani’s, and turns them toward the other end of the mall where the escalators down to the food court await. “Let’s get some greasy mall food in you, Poppins,” she says. “Perk you right up.”

Dani laughs, leaning into Jamie a little as they go. 

And maybe it’s the length of the day or the presence of her mother. Maybe it’s all those long talks where the truth of what happened was never mentioned. Maybe it’s some residual nightmare still flooding her veins with every beat of her heart.

Maybe it’s some combination of all three.

When Dani stops to look into the display window of a bookstore, smiling at the winter scene set up—two puppet-like elves reading books in the back of a miniature sleigh—something happens. Jamie isn’t certain at first what it is. But one moment, Dani is completely fine, halfway through a remark about the fake snow the shop used and the next she’s falling deathly silent, eyes wide and fixed on the window. 

As if she’s a ghost. It’s possible, given everything, that she has. 

“Dani?” Jamie asks, careful not to touch her, not to startle her. “Dani, love, what is it?”

Dani is silent, tears filling her eyes which are fixed at some specific spot in the window. Jamie surveys her own reflection, then Dani’s. Behind them is a group of people hanging out and looking down the balcony to the lower level. One of them, a woman, is wearing a pale white dress that brushes her knees. She has long, dark hair and she’s standing very still, probably listening to whatever the man beside her is saying, and Jamie understands.

“Dani, baby, come on,” Jamie says. “I’m going to touch you, okay? I need you to come with me.”

There isn’t a response to this, but she hadn’t exactly expected there to be. She reaches out and lightly grabs the material of Dani’s coat sleeve over her wrist, using it to gently guide her girlfriend away from the woman’s reflection in the window. She’s not quite sure where to go, where would be safe enough to bring Dani back into the moment, into the here and now. It’s like the blind leading the blind.

There’s an elevator just up ahead and it’s not the best choice, but Jamie doesn’t really have any others. She doesn’t feel safe guiding Dani to the escalators or stairs like this and she just wants to get them as far away from that window as possible. By some miracle, there is no queue of mother-manned strollers awaiting entry and they are the only two inside when Jamie gets them there.

She guides Dani in and releases her as the doors shut. The mall has three floors and the food court is on the bottom one, so Jamie presses the button labeled 1 and watches it light up. With a shuddering start, the elevator starts moving, sliding them down to the second floor. 

Jamie is busy trying to figure out her next plan of action when another thing happens:

The lights above them flicker a few times and then darkness falls as the elevator comes to a jarring halt. The tinny Christmas music that had been playing from the speakers in the corners of the elevator stops playing and then there is only silence.

Silence and Dani taking quick and shallow breaths. 

Jamie jabs her finger into the emergency alarm, wincing as a buzzing ring echoes around the small space. It’s a busy mall, she tells herself. Someone will be there soon to fix it and get them on their way. And, until then, they’re going to have to just be in the darkness.

“Dani,” she whispers, the blackness around her swallowing the word.

She can hear Dani’s breathing as it speeds up, followed by a pillowy thump that is probably her falling back against the mirrored wall. She takes a couple of careful steps forward, arm thrust out to keep from running into anything. Eventually, her hand meets the fake-fur lining of Dani’s coat. 

“Dani,” she says again, but there is only silence. 

This close she can feel her girlfriend’s stuttered breath against her face, can hear the little gasp at the height of each one. She, herself, is beginning to panic, just from the overwhelming dark and the idea of being trapped like this. She can only imagine what Dani is feeling. 

“Dani, baby, it’s okay. Everything is okay,” she tries, knowing how silly and futile those words are against whatever it is Dani is trying to fight off. 

There is a gasping sob next, Dani sucking in air, and Jamie recalls that moment out front of Bly all those months ago. They’d been strangers then and still so innocent to the shadows coming their way. But she can recall the tremble of Dani’s shoulders, how unhinged she looked. How it had taken everything inside of her not to pull Dani into her arms even then. 

Now, it’s even harder. She can hardly stand it.

“Dani, it’s me. It’s Jamie.” For some reason, it feels so important to tell her this—as if Dani might have forgotten who she’s with or where she is. It feels so important to keep saying her name, too, to keep trying to ground her and keep her from floating away. “Can I touch you?”

There’s no answer. A few long seconds of silence pass and then she feels Dani’s hand grip her own, squeeze her tightly. Gently as she can, Jamie cradles it in both of her own and lifts it, presses it to the side of her own face. Dani’s fingers uncurl as she does this, cupping Jamie’s cheek, thumb brushing along her eyebrows and eyelashes. Tracing their familiar shape in the darkness.

“Just breathe, baby,” she says because Dani is still gasping, still hyperventilating. “All the way in. All the way out.” She demonstrates it, breathing in slowly and then breathing out the same way. Making it audible. “Breathe like me, Dani. Just breathe like me.”

Another hand comes up, this one resting on her chest above her sweater. Feeling the rise and fall with every breath Jamie takes. Dani struggles to mimic her, but it evens out after a minute, sounding more and more steady. 

“There you go,” Jamie encourages. Her eyes feel hot and itchy and she knows she’s crying even though she can’t see anything. She can feel the drip of tears from her jaw. “That’s so good. Keep breathing. Breathe like me.”

This isn’t forever, she reminds herself. There are probably people working on getting the elevator running right now. Any moment, the lights are going to turn on and they’re going to be okay. They’ll get to the first floor and step out into the bright fluorescents and Dani will be alright. Breathing normally. Present. Okay.

“It’s gonna pass,” Jamie tells her. “I’m here. We’re here. We’re okay.”

Dani taps her finger lightly on Jamie’s chest. “Okay,” she whispers, voice breaking. “Okay.”

“Yeah, we’re okay. Where are we okay, Dani?” she asks. “Where are we?”

She read somewhere about this—in some magazine in a waiting room at a doctor’s office. Remembers reading about questions like that one. About what it means to ground another person.

“V-Vermont,” Dani answers. “The mall.”

“That’s right. That’s so good.” Another tap. Jamie presses Dani’s hand, the one holding her face, a little closer. “What’s your name? What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Danielle,” Dani says without hesitation. 

“Who am I?” 

A pause here and Jamie is worried for one second when she hears Dani’s breath stutter again, come out a little more pained. But then the hand on her chest lifts, curls around the back of her neck, fingers curling into her hair. “Jamie,” Dani breathes, pulling Jamie in closer until their foreheads are resting together. “My Jamie.”

Jamie nods against Dani’s forehead. Closes her eyes. “Your Jamie. That’s right, Dani. Your Jamie.”

“My Jamie,” Dani repeats and she’s crying still, shaking, but she sounds more and more like herself. “I’m okay. I’m okay. We’re okay.” Her fingers comb through Jamie’s hair as she says it and Jamie brings her own hand up, cupping the other woman’s jaw in her hands and wiping away her tears with her thumbs. 

“We’re okay. Me and you.”

“Me and you.” 

They stand there like that for a long time. Jamie isn’t sure how long, but, eventually the elevator’s lights are on again. There’s a voice coming through the speaker—a man telling them they’ve got it running again; apologizing—and then they’re moving again. In the time it takes to descend, Jamie pulls away and manages to wipe the rest of Dani’s tears away. Get her own as well. Straighten themselves out.

Two maintenance workers and a man in a suit are waiting for them at the bottom, apologetic and flummoxed. Jamie fields their apologies with Dani’s hand in her own and Dani comes back into herself all the way. 

Me and you, Jamie thinks when they’re alone again, pulling Dani to the side of the elevator, out of the way, so they can get their bearings all the way. 

There’s a beast in the jungle, yes. Lurking. Waiting. Sometimes it rustles in the bushes, makes noises at the edge of their camp. Rakes its nails down the bark of a tree, snapping twigs and leaving shadows in its wake as it slinks back into the darkness.

There’s nothing, really, that Jamie can do about that. But she can add logs to the fire, shine a flashlight in the darkest of corners. She can hold Dani close and press her mouth to her forehead. She can whisper quiet assurances to her and vow to never let her go for as long as she lives.

This is part of their life together. Jamie is learning that, too.

And, in the life she led before Dani—without Dani—there were so many things that she couldn’t handle.

But loving Dani through whatever storms that come their way is not one of them.

..

[squirrel-moose-winchester]

Christmas Surprise

Title: Christmas Surprise

Pairing: Dean Smith x Reader

Word Count: 1991

Summary: During the company Christmas party, Y/N notices that her boss is MIA. Knowing exactly where he was, and expecting him to do exactly what he did, you took the opportunity to give him his early Christmas Present.

Warning: SMUT (18+ONLY)

A/N: This is my entry for @kittenofdoomage’s “Kitten’s Canon Christmas Challenge.” My prompt was #25: Opening Gifts. I haven’t written smut in a while, so I hope this turned out okay. I know this challenge wasn’t required to be smut, but I figured it should be in respect to the fact that Rhi is literally one of the Queens of smut. With that said, happy reading!

Disclaimer: Gif not mine.

The company Christmas party was in full swing, when you realized that your boss, Dean Smith, was no where to be found. That only meant one thing and one thing only… the man was up in his office working, as per usual, however, it was exactly what you were expecting.

You hadn’t made a year at the company yet, but ever since you started, there was no denying the way Dean looked at you. His lingering gazes didn’t go unnoticed as he stared for way too long, nor did the way his eyes always drop to your cleavage when ever you got just a little too close for comfort, and you knew he gawked at your ass every chance he got.

It was enough for you to assume that the man definitely had a thing for you, and you definitely had a thing for him. In fact, you were positive that every female and select males, fantasized about him. How could they not?! It wouldn’t faze you if a few straight men were being swayed.

Sneaking away from the party, you headed up to his office, but before that, you made a quick stop at the top floor restrooms to prepare the surprise you planned for Dean’s Christmas gift. By the time you were done, there was wrapping paper everywhere, but you weren’t too worried about the mess, considering not many employees came up here.

Stepping out, you tugged at your coat, making sure everything was covered, and strode towards his office. As you entered your office, which was connected to his, you could easily hear his muffled voice though the door. He was most likely inn a call with a client, or possibly one of the competitors.

Waiting a few seconds, you knocked on the door warily, waiting for his cue.

“Come in!” You heard him say. And with that, you entered.

As you strutted in, he acknowledged you with a small smile before returning to his phone call. He had his blazer off which meant he was probably in his office for a while. Dean looked at you again, giving you a once look over before pointing to the empty chair in front of his desk. When you shook your head in rejection to his offer, he slightly tilted his head in confusion.

One step at a time, you made your way over to him, twisting his seat so he was facing you. He continued his phone call, just watching your every move. Next, you pushed his chair out, far enough so that you could fit between him and his desk.

Suddenly, you dropped your coat, and Dean eyes went wide and his mouth went silent. Who ever was on the other side of the line, must have been trying to get his attention because Dean stuttered to get a response out. “Uh, s-sorry. I-I gotta go,” he managed to say before ending the call without a second thought.

Dean stared in awe, taking in the sight before him. There was wrapping paper neatly placed over your chest and draping over your hips, with a big red bow covering your stomach. “Merry Christmas,” you greeted, voice soft and seductive. It took Dean a minute or two to recover, but the smile that spread across his face gave you confirmation that he was liking what he was seeing. “Well, aren’t you going to open your present?” You asked, doing a little shimmy.

“Hell yes,” he breathed out, leaping out of his seat and standing full height, the man easily towering over you.

You bit your bottom lip in anticipation, needing him to just tear everything off and fuck you senseless, but alas, Dean took his time. He motioned with his finger for you turn around, which you did slowly until you were facing him again.

First, he pulled off the bow, exposing your stomach. Next he worked on the wrapping paper around your chest, tearing it down the middle agonizingly slow. Once it was torn away, he paused to admire you twin mounds.

“Fuck. You’re gorgeous,” he complimented before taking a pert nipple into his mouth, sucking and nibbling.

It was impossible to keep quiet. His warm mouth felt amazing around you, and his tongue was playfully relentless, and when he’d lightly bite down, it shot waves of electricity straight down to your sopping core. After working one nipple, he moved on to the other, giving it the same treatment and eliciting the same reaction from you like earlier.

“Please, Mr. Smith…” you moaned, needing more.

“Dean. Call me Dean,” he mumbled against your breast.

“Dean, please. Need you,” you whined, using his first name and loving the way it rolled off your tongue.

“I love hearing my name come out of your mouth. And don’t worry Sweetheart, I’ll get there. There are just some things that can’t wait and others that can. And right now I just want to suck your amazing tits. So. Fucking. Perfect.” His hot breath on your wet nipple sent a whole different kind of sensation throughout your body as he spoke, but it sent the same type of need between your legs.

Dean attacked your breasts again, sucking harder this time while swirling his tongue around your nipples. He had definitely done this before.

While your mind was reeling from his ministrations, you almost missed the light tug and the soft sound of paper ripping. Dean was finally working on your bottom half and you couldn’t wait to have his cock buried in your pussy. You were done with fantasizing about what it would be like, and you were done using your fingers, pretending they were his. You needed the real thing. If his mouth felt this amazing, you couldn’t begin to imagine what it would feel like to have him penetrating deep inside you.

Dean’s piercing green eyes never left yours, loving the look on your face as he teased your breasts. When he released your nipple with a lewd, wet, pop, you gasped. Your lips remained slightly parted as he trailed feather-like kisses down your torso, passed your stomach, and stopped to place a kiss on your shaven mound.

“Please. I need you.” Your pleading earned a low groan from deep in his chest. He was trying to take things slow, to prolong the moment that only happened in his dreams. He wanted to memorize every part of you. He wanted to learn your body and reactions, but listening to your whimpers, moans, and hearing you beg for him was becoming too much to handle. He wanted to pin you down and sink as deep as he could go.

“Shit,” he hissed, “fuck it.”

Before you could begin to process what was happening, your back was against the smooth wood of his desk, and your legs spread open with Dean’s mouth devouring your pussy.

“Fuck!” You screamed, the need to come approaching quickly. “T-Too fa-fast,” you stuttered, barely able to form any coherent words, even more so when he plunged a finger, followed by a second finger, scissoring you open in preparation for the bigger stuff.

“Come for me,” he mumbled against your pussy, the vibrations only adding more to the pleasure. It was only seconds before you were coming undone on his tongue, your chest heaving rapidly and body twitching with every pulsed of your orgasm. “Fuck. Tastes so good.”

Dean dipped his tongue into your hole before swiping up to your clit, making you flinch from sensitivity. “Shit,” you let out in one shaky breath.

Suddenly, Dean was back on his feet, loosening his tie, then pursuing to releasing his member, tented, in his slacks. You watched with excitement, needing to see him, needing to sate your mind and finally get an accurate description. As his pants hit the ground and he freed his cock form his boxers, your breath hitched, while your eyes nearly fell out of their sockets.

He was a huge.

“Ready, baby?” He smirked, pleased with your reaction. He was proportionate for the most part, except his cock was a little more special than any other parts of his body.

“Fuck, I’ll give it a try,” you gulped, unsure if he could actually fit.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle… for now.” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he pressed his tip at your entrance, the blunt head of his cock more than enough to stretch you out deliciously. “Easy, Sweetheart. Relax for me,” Dean cooed, one hand directing his cock and the other pressing against your lower stomach, his thumb rubbing against the soft flesh. “Relax.”

Letting your body fall lax, you tried not to focus too much on how he was going to fit, rather focusing on how good it felt to have his thick cock filling your tight little pussy. Dean grunted, pushing inch by inch, forcing himself to sheathe all of him. A yelp of pure pleasure fell from your lips, your pussy tightening around his massive cock.

“Holy fuck,” you moaned, dragging out the last word.

“Relax,” Dean hissed, trying to control himself. If you didn’t relax and stop clenching around him, he knew that he wouldn’t last long. Not with how tight you were.

“Please, fuck me,” you cried, wiggling your hips in hopes for more friction. “Please.”

“You think you can take me?” Dean questioned and all you could do was nod, desperately needing him to move.

Dean pushed in more, watching how your body reacted. He felt you clench again as you screamed. He bet that he could get you off just like this, submerged deep in your sweet hole, just forcing his full length inside of you.

“Move please. I need you to fuck me,” you pleaded, your voice spilling with desperation. You needed him just as bad as he needed you.

Pulling out until just the tip, he plunged back in, making you cry out in pleasure. Your back arching off of the table and hands clinging to the edges. “That’s my pretty girl. Scream for me. No one can hear you,” he mumbled, repeating the motion again and again, hitting harder each time, loving how loud you got with each thrust.

As he continued to pummel into you, he watched with heavy breaths and blown out eyes, enthralled by the look on your face, entertained by your volume, and mesmerized by the deep arch of your back. It only made him wonder just how loud you could get and how many ways he could bend you to get a good fuck.

“I’m gonna come!” You shouted, his cock hitting so deep and pressing all the right buttons that sent your body on fire.

“Fuck. Come. I’m right behind you,” he growled, his thrusts getting sloppier, but not letting up in power.

“I’m coming,” you screamed, your body violently twitching, but Dean held you close, forcing all of him inside your pulsing heat as he let go, strings of cum filling you up. Dean pumped a few times, still leaking deep.

“Shit,” Dean whispered, pulling out completely, falling back onto his chair, watching how his come trickled out of your pussy. “Best pussy I’ve ever had,” he confessed, reaching out and shoving his finger back into your hole, causing you to twitch and whimper. “I could get use to this.”

“Me too,” you sighed, relishing in his touch.

Dean added two more fingers before picking up space. Your body began to tremble on the table, and when he curled his fingers, finding that special rough patch with ease, you cursed loudly, before you body shook with another orgasm, however this one not as strong as the first two.

“Fuck, baby. You got me hard all over again,” Dean announced, standing back up form his chair and flipping you onto your stomach. “I hope you’re ready, because I’m fucking that little pussy of yours all night long.

This was the best Christmas present ever.

Say Something Nice Here!!

Dirty Sluts Tag: @whimsicalrobots @waywardbaby @grace-for-sale @dragonchica @mogaruke @puff1408 @akshi8278 @wonderfulwinchestersmut @sarkina @theangelkrysta @salt-n-burn-em-all @waywardlodging @esoltis280 @babypieandwhiskey @msimpala67 @amanda-teaches @waywardnerd67 @emoryhemsworth @so-get--this @caitthejourno @shaelyn102 @weewoop0875 @natasha-baggins @tootiredtosleepposts @superlightalternateuniverse88 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @atc74 @herbologystudent252 @carryonmywaywardcaptain @heyitscam99 @spookygibson @writevanna @curly-haired-disaster @humanexile @wingedcatninja @dreamilysparklyenthusiast @depressed-moose-78 @maui137 @raelady1184 @shikaros-blog @holyfuckloueh  @supernatural-jackles @cyrilconnelly @pisces-cutie @srsllydunnodoncare @dean-winchesters-bacon @roonyxx @stusbunker @adoptdontshoppets @supernaturalmagicfolk @spnbaby-67

[turnsoutnoonewasexaggerating]

Part 11 of The Sam Diaries

Read on Ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10507836/chapters/27140973

20:47: Is this Eunoia?

20:47: Yes? Who are you?

20:48: It’s Neil Josten. I was trying to get hold of Sam’s number to tell him the police got a hold of the guy at the game but I couldn’t find it.

20:49: If u managed to get a hold of my mobile number in Greece I don’t think it was the police who took him away

21:01: Why doesn’t Sam have a phone?

21:05: He broke it last week and hasn’t replaced it yet Also kinda still can’t believe I actually know u pls b nice I am too excited and tired for this conversation

21:05: How did he break it? And I don’t think I’ve ever been good at nice sorry

21:06: He dropped it on the floor Apparently me in lingerie causes him to lose all motor functions

21:07: I didn’t need the extra info

21:07: Your fault for asking. Anywho, I’ll pass on the message. Thank you again for the game tickets and congrats on how well you played

21:09: Andrew’s probably bought those game tickets ten times over in ice cream by now

21:09: That is… Maybe a little bit true. I should probably give him discounts at this point

21:10: Do not it is hard enough keeping him to his diet schedule as it is

21:10: Rodger that. 21:11: Sam just asked me what I’m laughing at He is shocked and appalled at the idea of a meal plan

21:15: Don’t ever let him meet Kevin Day. He loves meal plans more than he loves his wife

21:16: Poor wife 21:20: So apparently ur demi too? Oh Shit sorry Sam’s just told me not to mention it I just haven’t met anyone irl other than Sam Ignore it

21:30: It’s fine 21:45: So Sam’s demi and he was just born like that?

21:46: Yes?

21:47: And you’re not demi right?

21:47: Nah I’m just a boring heterosexual.

21:48: I didn’t know there was a word for it I just thought I was different

21:49: Well u r but it’s not a bad thing. And it seems to be working for u guys fine!

21:50: Yeah. Thanks Eunoia.

10:52: Neil, I need to apologise I never thought I was going to get answers as to what happened to my parents And I definitely didn’t think the answers would be btw ur parents were spies Like that’s not a reality I ever had to live in Don’t get me wrong I’m 100% ready to stab ur uncle if he ever comes near me But Sam’s convinced me I shouldn’t have taken that out on u it’s not ur fault I’m sorry

11:10: Your parents were killed to save my life. I should be the one apologising. Are you ok? Also do not attempt to stab my uncle you will be killed before you even met him

11:11: Calm down crazy. U didn’t kill them. Sam's helping me through it. It's going to take a while to rewrite them in my head. I can't believe they lied to me for so many years. It's like, did I even know them? But the best thing for me is to get back to work doing what I love. And finish up wedding decisions as well :) I figured that. My parents were the good guys tho right?

11:12: I might as well have I'm glad you've got Sam. All the members of the FBI I’ve met are pricks but they were on the right side of the law I suppose. And they got taken out because they were too good at their jobs

11:12: Pls pass Andrew ur phone

11:13: Ok… 11:14: What?

11:14: Pls get ur bf’s head out of his self-deprecating arse. Also how much ice-cream will it take to win u over? I have a lot

11:15: Unfortunately it’s been stuck there since he was born. I’m sure we can come to an arrangement. Just how much of your ‘Death by Chocolate’ do you currently have stocked?

11:16: How big is ur fridge?

When Andrew had finally managed to coax a nervous and still visibly upset Neil out of the Maserati and into the shop (thankfully there didn’t seem to be any other customers in yet; Andrew had a feeling Neil would like this conversation even less in public), it’s to find Rosa deRosales behind the counter, not Eunoia. Rosa and Andrew stare at each other blankly.

“Oh yeah, Rosa, those famous Exy players I was talking about come in here all the time, I don’t really know why, but they’re pretty chill so don’t give them special treatment.” Eunoia’s voice calls from the back, getting steadily louder as she makes her way to the front. “Can you get the door for me babe?”

Rosa breaks eye-contact with Andrew to push the door to the back open and lets Eunoia, hidden behind a tower of white dopplers, into the front of the shop. She places them down on the counter carefully, having still not noticed Andrew and Neil.

Andrew takes a second to look her over. In all honesty, she looks like shit. She has bags under her eyes that speak of not just a bad night’s sleep but a truly horrific one, and she’s hobbling like she’s injured her feet in some way. Her hair, for the first time in their acquaintance, is tied back away from her face, and it makes her look serious in a way she rarely is. Her eyes are still slightly wild and more than a little haunted, but she’s calm in the way she unstacks the boxes and there’s nothing fake about her smile as she thanks Rosa.

“How long have you worked here?” Andrew says finally and Eunoia startles and looks at him in confusion.

“This is my first shift.” Rosa replies quietly, fidgeting with her apron. “I’m just helping out Eunoia while she gets some new staff, but I still fill her ‘fucked-up’ criteria.”

“You know each other?” Eunoia asks, gesturing between the two of them, giving a disapproving glance at her friend for calling herself and the other employees fucked up. Andrew shrugs.

“We were in the same foster home, but not at the same time.”

“Oh.” Eunoia says in surprise, and then she glances at Rosa and pales. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Rosa replies, and Eunoia looks vaguely sick when she looks back at Andrew. Andrew quirks an eyebrow, feeling like he’d missed something.

“I’m guessing that’s why you were barely sober over November and December in Junior High.” Eunoia says quietly, still talking to Rosa but not taking her eyes off Andrew.

“I couldn’t believe he was really dead after I’d spent all of Freshman High hiding from him at your house.” Rosa agrees, just as softly. Neil and Andrew both stiffen.

“I suppose that makes Eunoia one of the ‘good friends who got you to the hospital in time’?” Andrew manages, eventually. Eunoia shakes her head.

“We didn’t go to the same university.”

“Not that that stopped her from flying halfway around the country to visit me in hospital in the middle of her exams.” Rosa smiles, poking her friend in the side.

“Way too many fucking coincidences.” Neil says, blinking at them all. Eunoia agrees with a laugh, and if it’s a little more hard-won than it usually is, that’s to be expected. They’re going to be ok.

"At least half of those better be mine." Andrew deadpans, pointing at the dopplers, when the feeling in the room gets a little to sappy for him to stomach, and this time when Eunoia laughs there's nothing hesitant about it at all.

“Andrew.” Kevin’s never been one for conventional greetings.

“Kevin.” Andrew replies, because neither has he.

“Are you free?” Andrew assumes he means to chat, and wonders when Thea had managed to persuade Kevin to be a little less brisk and demanding on the phone. He’s not entirely sure he likes it. He stretches out on their couch, secretly pleased with the fact that he’s short enough that his whole body fits on it lengthways with some wiggle room, and closes his eyes, listening to Neil switch on the coffee machine. Neil thinks that when the coffee machine is whirring Andrew can’t hear him singing along to the radio, and Andrew sees no reason to inform him of the truth, especially when after last week’s mess with Sam and Eunoia, Andrew was worried the singing wouldn’t come back for a while.

“From Neil? Unfortunately he’s still alive and annoying as ever.”

“Of time constraints you bastard.” Now there’s the Kevin he knows and- Knows. “I thought we could get lunch.”

“You live on the other side of the country.” Andrew deadpans, intrigued despite himself.

“And now I’m in your town.” Kevin says back with his usual stoic demeanour, no hint as to why he’s travelled hundreds of miles just to take Andrew out for lunch.

“What happened? Did you finally leave Muscles to do something about your Knox boner? Come to have a gay crisis with me?” Andrew can tell Kevin’s fuming through the phone, and Andrew knows the only reason he hasn’t exploded in rage is that he’s not sure what part of Andrew’s speech he’s most upset about.

“No.” Kevin grounds out, through gritted teeth. “I’ll meet you at that Italian place Neil took us to last time. Don’t bring him.” The line clicks dead before Andrew can ask what the fuck that’s supposed to mean.

“What the shit is going on, Day?” Andrew announces as he strides up to Kevin’s table, ignoring the waiter chasing after him about waiting to be served. Kevin flicks an apologetic look at the staff as Andrew sits across from him, who predictably all swoon over the handsome celebrity.

“I owe you.” Kevin says, uncomfortably. It’s the last thing Andrew ever expects him to say. Luckily Kevin is used to Andrew’s taciturn ways and keeps talking without being prompted. “I didn��t hold up my end of our deal.”

Andrew’s eyes narrow as Kevin clenches and unclenches his scarred hand. He doesn’t think the striker even knows he’s doing it.

“You don’t owe me anything.” Andrew says, eventually. Kevin frowns at him.

“I know it’s been ages but that doesn’t make it ok.” Kevin protests, and Andrew wants to snarl at his stupidly thick head. He hated dealing with people who didn’t understand him.

Which basically translated to he hated dealing with anyone who wasn’t Neil.

“I came up with that deal because I was desperate, and much as I meant to hold up my end of it, the way I went about it was all wrong. I built my entire life around Exy and I didn’t think for a moment that you couldn’t do the same. I knew for certain that Exy could be more to you if you just let it, and I was right, but it couldn’t be the be all end all for you.” Kevin trying to apologise is almost amusing enough for Andrew to want to continue the conversation; his face is contorted with the effort of saying the right words, and he’s still failing miserably. It’s quite possibly the first time Kevin’s tried to genuinely apologise in his life. Andrew’s fairly certain he practiced this little speech.

“You’re not listening Kevin. You don’t owe me anything.” Kevin blinks.

“I don’t understand.” Andrew rolls his eyes and looks out the window as he fidgets idly with the knife on the table in front of him. Unfortunately not sharp enough to cut the pest.

“You picked Neil.” Andrew’s hand tightens around the knife at his admission, and he watches as understanding dawns on Kevin’s face.

“Oh.”

“You’re paying for the food.” Andrew insists, not letting Kevin linger on the topic for any longer.

“We’re only here because it’s got some options with really rich carb intake.” Kevin says sternly. Andrew sometimes amuses himself thinking about Kevin’s face if he saw how loosely Andrew followed his meal plan. (And by loosely he means one night a week he eats whatever green vegetable-filled meal Neil forces down his throat, and only because Neil hates vegetables just as much and Andrew will one day capture on camera the face Neil makes around spinach.)

Andrew sends a text to Neil informing him that he’s leaving Neil for his bowl of pasta later on, and occasionally offers a comment on Kevin’s latest analysis of the upcoming season, admitting to himself quietly, with a little bloom of warmth he usually only feels around Neil, that it’s because he enjoys talking to Kevin.

[izzy-b-hands]

Fade In The Dark, Burn As Bright-Chapter One

Written for my DL server Bingo Card prompt: Post-Apocalyptic Horror.

Honestly? Didn’t think I’d be able to complete this one. But I got stuck on a different prompt, and now here we are. Didn’t intend for this to be multi-chapter, but that also just sort of happened if I’m honest. And yes, the title are from lyrics by MCR lol. It fits the fic, and I’m still a goth/emo kid at heart, I guess. 

Set somewhere in 1978, in (obviously lol) an AU where the world has ended. 

How and why that happened, as well as the how and why they survived it, aren’t so simply discovered. 

But what else is there to do after the apocalypse, except look for answers?

My love to all who read/like/reblog. 

“You know what I hate most about the end of the world?” Roger shouted, his voice echoing in the street, empty except for them. “Too bloody quiet. Never thought I’d miss the noise. But I do! What a fucking joke.” 

“Please be quiet,” Brian sighed and turned back to look to Roger. “We don’t know who else is here.” 

“No one!” Roger shouted again, gesticulating towards the broken and buckled buildings, their fallen bricks strewn in the street. “No one is here, because everyone else is dead!” 

“We don’t know that,” Freddie turned his head back towards them. “We need to be careful.” 

Roger kicked at a brick, and winced as he made light, but thankfully not full, contact with it. “The world ended, and there’s still rules to follow.” 

“Not rules, just...considerations,” Freddie said. “We don’t even know what happened for sure.” 

“I think it must have been a nuclear bomb,” Brian said. “Look at everything, what else could it have been?” 

“How did we survive it then?” Roger asked. 

“Got lucky?” Brian shrugged, skipping around a pile of bricks as they walked on down the street. “Or rather, unlucky. We might be dead within the next few days, or weeks, if I’m right. Depending on where it fell, would say as to how fucked we are.” 

“Well, that’s lovely,” Roger scoffed. “Here I was thinking just a regular bomb. What about you two? Any ideas?” 

Freddie shook his head. “I don’t want to think about it right now.” 

“We can’t just go on not knowing,” Roger said, then frowned at the pained look on Freddie’s face. “Though, it could wait until we’re somewhere settled and safe.” 

“Aliens,” John said. 

“Deaky,” Brian sighed, exasperated. “Even if that was the case, what reason do you have for thinking we’d be destroyed by them right away?” 

He shrugged. “Boredom? A need and will to blow shit up?” 

“Speaking of,” Brian said, and swallowed hard. 

They had reached his home first, the one he shared with Chrissie. 

It was in pieces, and there was no one outside of it. 

“We can search with you,” Freddie tried, but Brian shook his head and strode towards the rubble on his own. 

“He’ll need our help,” Roger whispered to Freddie. “Whether they’re alive or not...” 

“I know,” Freddie said. “Give him a moment.” 

Brian moved bricks as quickly as he could, but it was a fruitless search. 

“No bodies,” he said shortly as he returned to them. “Not that I could see anyway.” 

“Maybe they weren’t home,” Freddie murmured, and rubbed at Brian’s back. “Or they got out, and are like us, looking for others.” 

Brian shook his head, and it was evident he was fighting back tears. 

“I’m fine if we don’t head to mine,” Roger said. “Can’t imagine it looks much different.” 

“But your mum,” Freddie started, then paused. “She’s fine. Probably out looking, like Chrissie and James.” 

Roger nodded sharply, and they continued on. 

“Do you want to check on your parents, Fred?” John asked. “Equal distance to mine or theirs...” 

“Yours first,” Freddie replied. “I’m sure they’re fine too. They’ll be glad to see me, but they’ll laugh if they know I worried about them.” 

The streets passed, empty and silent, aside from moments where bits of broken walls crumbled, and they passed the occasional fire, the sound of it whipping on the wind shiver-inducing. 

John’s home was at least still mostly standing, but the door fell in as John went to open it. 

He was in for only a few moments, before returning to them on the street. 

“Wish I’d been home,” he muttered. “No offense to all of you, of course-” 

“I’m so sorry,” Freddie said, and wrapped John in a hug, but John shook his head. 

“No, they aren’t there,” he said. “I mean, they could still be-” 

His lip quivered exactly once, and he ran a hand down his face, streaking dirt over it. “But maybe they’re okay. Out there, somewhere.” 

They were all a mess, even before they had left the lot where the studio had once stood. It had a few walls left, but most had been destroyed, and it was seemingly a miracle that they hadn’t been crushed under any of them. 

It left them covered in dirt and streaks of who knew what else, and there didn’t look to be the opportunity for a shower or bath any time soon. 

“Getting cold,” Freddie remarked, shivering as they kept on. “Should see if there’s anything left at my parents’ that we could borrow.” 

“Maybe their house is standing enough we can stop for the night,” Roger said, rubbing at his arms. “Has to be warmer in there, even if the heating isn’t working.” 

“It’s only September, it won’t get much colder,” Brian said. “If we must stay out here all night, I mean. It’s manageable.” 

The house was standing, but it creaked and moaned as they walked inside with Freddie, at his insistence. 

“No one,” Freddie sighed as he met them in the sitting room, after searching as much of the house as he dared. “But there’s suitcases gone.” 

“That’s good,” Brian said, relief in his voice. “We might run into them if we keep going.” 

“Unless they went the way we just came from,” John mused. “But we might have seen them already then, and we didn’t...” 

They all stood, feet shuffling. 

“Think it’s sturdy enough to stay in?” Roger asked, looking to the walls of the house. There were some cracks, but they were upright at least. 

“Maybe if we stay in here,” Freddie said. “That way, should anything come crashing down, we can run out.” 

“Could take turns standing watch,” Brian added. “For crumbling walls, or anything else.” 

“We haven’t seen or heard from anyone else,” John said. “Nothing is going to come in and get us.” 

But even he looked nervously to the front door, as it swung when the wind came up, and he helped to move the couch from the sitting room to barricade it. 

---

He volunteered for the first watch shift only because he couldn’t sleep. The idea of even trying to sleep was abhorrent. He didn’t know where his parents and sister were, alive or dead, and the thought that they could be nearby, maybe hoping he would happen by and be able to help them...

The tears stung, with the dirt and muck still on his face and around his eyes, and wiping them away only made it worse. 

But he didn’t want to wake the other three, though they seemed pretty dead asleep. Brian, Roger, and John, all in a little pile too, draped right by each other on the floor of the sitting room, for warmth. 

And because they were scared, but no one wanted to say that bit out loud. Not yet, at least. Holding off on saying it meant the world might somehow turn back towards ‘normal’, to safety. 

It was a falsehood, but it was hard to let it go when there was nothing else to hang onto but each other. 

They hadn’t even touched on the other important issues: food, water, washing up. There was some food left in the cupboards here, but they needed to find ways to carry it and keep it safe while they traveled. It would only last so long too. 

Water was worse; what working taps could be found gave off water that didn’t seem bad, but there was no guarantee of how safe it was to drink or use for anything else. 

All he wanted was a warm, decent meal; clean, cold water; and a nice bath. If he couldn’t know that everyone he and his friends cared for were safe, he at least wanted those basic comforts. 

Instead, he stood and paced through the house more, looking for anything they could use to carry food and supplies, and for anything that he could take from the house. 

Not anything big. Just a few things that he could carry with, and make sure to return to each of his family members once he found them again, somewhere along the road. 

Because he would. Surely, he would.

---

“Hour went fast,” Roger mumbled as Freddie woke him for his turn at watch. 

But he switched spots with Freddie quickly, and settled for staring down the door. 

“I know there’s no one else out there,” he whispered. “We’d have seen someone by now. We would have, I’m sure of it.” 

He wasn’t as sure as he wanted to be though, and that was the worry wringing out his brain. What if there were people, half-alive, stuck in the rubble of the homes they’d passed? 

Reasonably, he knew they couldn’t have stopped to check every house. Even if they’d done that, there was no way they could have helped anyone, with no supplies themselves. 

It was haunting though. People, alone in their houses, dying. Hearing them walk outside, too weak to call out for help that they couldn’t have provided anyway. 

They were a rock band. If they had to die early, they were supposed to go out in a blaze of glory. They weren’t supposed to be the ones left behind, in whatever this was. 

He wanted his mum. It was childish, and he didn’t care. But he wanted her desperately, to sit by him and pat his hand and reassure him that even if there were survivors out there, they were alright without him trying to stumble to provide them care. That he wasn’t terrible for wishing that all the nameless others would just be peacefully dead, rather than in pain and scared and alone. 

The door rattled, and he shook his head. “Only the wind.” 

It rattled on and off for the rest of his hour, and any fears he had of falling asleep while on watch disappeared.

---

John rubbed at his eyes and yawned as Roger woke him for his turn. He rifled through the house as Roger settled in by the other lads. 

Not to be nosy, but because it was comforting. Amongst all the rubble and destruction, here was some normalcy. The warm colors of the decor, familiar from dinners they’d spent with Freddie and his family. Knick-knacks that he’d asked Freddie’s mum about at least a dozen times before, but that he would love to hear about again. 

So long as she was okay. And Freddie’s dad, and sister. 

Eventually, he knew he would need to face what he was struggling to now. That Ronnie, Robert, and Michael might not be okay. More than not okay...dead. Maybe under another pile of refuse they’d passed, or laying on the side of a road they had yet to go down. If they were still alive, how was Veronica managing? Two little ones, all on her own...to do that in normal times was one thing, but post-apparent-apocalypse? That was another. Had there been enough food and supplies to gather? Was she struggling to transport them? How scared must they be, and what could she say to calm children so young?

Worse yet was the admittedly more selfish weight: that if they were dead, he was technically no longer a husband and father. It wasn’t as if that was all he was, of course, but he loved those roles dearly. He liked being married, liked having little ones underfoot and smiling whenever he came home. It was just as, if not more, important than his being a bassist, or his being anything else, for that matter. 

“Lord, if you’ve got them,” he managed to whisper, once he peeked into the sitting room to ensure everyone else was deeply asleep. “Tell them I love them. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect them. I’d trade myself for them right now, if I could.” 

For the rest of his hour, he tried to keep from crying too loud. He didn’t hate the idea of crying in front of the guys, but they were all stressed and scared, and he didn’t want to add to it with this. 

---

“You alright?” Brian mumbled sleepily as John shook his shoulder. He was sniffling, and his eyes looked red, but he didn’t reply as he took Brian’s spot on the floor. 

Brian shrugged, and scooted to a point of the floor where he could see the front door. It made him nervous, if only because it couldn’t be locked. Granted, he knew very well that if someone really wanted in, they would find a way in. 

But they didn’t need anything else to go wrong. Not right now. 

He let himself stand and peer out one of the windows in the kitchen, trying to see as much of the night sky as he could. In part because it would comfort him, but also because he wanted to see if there were any signs.

Mind, he wasn’t sure exactly what he was looking for, aside from anything odd or out of the usual. Anything that might tell him what exactly had happened, might give him a clue on what side effects they should prepare to deal with, if any. 

“That’s asking too much of you, isn’t it?” he murmured to the sky as he looked up to it. “But you’ve held answers before. Be great if you could give me some right now.” 

The sky, ever silent, remained so. 

He made his way back to the sitting room, and tried to rest. He might not be able to sleep, but he could at least let his muscles relax. Who knew how long they might be walking tomorrow, or if they would find any shelter. 

The door rattled loudly, and he looked to it. 

The wind. Nothing more. 

It shook, and he stood. 

A storm, perhaps. 

The couch in front of it was rocked as someone pushed at the door, and he shook everyone else awake. 

“We have to go!” 

They went out of the back door that led to the garden. 

Freddie handed out bags as they moved, and they swiped whatever they could grab from the kitchen as they ran out. There was no time to grab anything that could hold water, or to take anything else aside from the few knick-knacks John shoved in his bag, handing a couple more to Freddie as he grabbed them off of their shelves and tables of display. 

Had it been a different time, a different day, a different situation, they probably would have looked back. 

But they didn’t, and they would never know who it was that had forced their way into the house. 

---

“Can we talk, at least?” Roger asked as they walked. The sun was high above them, and their bags of various food and scavenged supplies rustled as they walked. 

They had not stopped for more than a moment since fleeing Freddie’s parents’ house the night before. 

“I can’t stand how quiet it is,” Roger continued. “There should be sound. But there isn’t. They’re all dead, and we’re it, for sound. Just us, ha! Let’s see someone write a bad review about us now.” 

His words were joking, but his voice shook, and tears rained down his face. 

“It’s okay,” Freddie soothed, and let Brian take the lead spot as he moved back to walk by Roger, an arm wrapping around him to pull him as close as possible. “When we find others, there’ll be plenty of noise. We’ll be sick of it in a day, I bet!” 

“What if we don’t find anyone?” Roger whispered. “We should have found someone by now. Or bodies, at least.” 

“I don’t know,” Freddie admitted. “I...” 

He sighed. “I want to think we’ll find someone, at some point. Even if it is just bodies. But we’ll find someone, something. Proof of what happened, so we can figure out what to do next, how to find our families. Then it’ll be loud; all of us and our families together. They’ll hear us before they see us, wherever we go.” 

He could tell it wasn’t doing much for Roger, but at least talking, noise, seemed to calm him, and to make the tears stop. He didn’t want to babble, so he hummed instead, any tune that came into his head, as he kept Roger close. 

“We need to find water again,” Brian muttered. “And we should stop and eat.” 

“How are we going to prepare anything?” John asked. “Use the nearest car on fire as a stove top?” 

“Not a bad idea,” Brian replied. “Plenty of those about. But no damned water...” 

He didn’t even know what direction to take them in. He knew Freddie hadn’t known either, and was guessing as much as he was, in regards to where to walk next. 

But the terror of having that responsibility in front of him warped the view of the street, made him want to stop and sit and stay put until someone else found them, who might know the right way to go. 

“Keep going,” John murmured. Behind them, Freddie was helping Roger along still. “If we stop now, we won’t get started again. You’re doing fine. Just keep walking.” 

He focused on the sound of their footsteps behind him, and less on the direction forward. It was all likely the same anyway. 

---

By the time the sun had gone down, they were nearly to the countryside, and the city felt wrung dry. 

No more supplies to be had. No more food, or containers for water. The multiple bags and containers they’d accumulated provided a symphony of background noise as they walked. 

But no corpses. Not even in the houses they’d checked. 

No family, either, for any of them. If they were alive, and out there...they were who knew where by now. 

Brian stopped now, and turned to them. “Well?” 

“Well, what?” John asked. 

“Do we leave the city?” Brian continued. “I mean...there’s no one here that we can find. But where do we go if we leave, and why?” 

“We go forward,” Freddie replied softly. “Because we can.” 

Roger had settled noticeably as they’d continued forth, and he nodded in agreement. “Because what else are we going to do?” 

“Because maybe our families escaped the city before we even knew anything was wrong,” John added. “We can’t know for sure. But we can’t know anything for sure right now. May as well try something and just...do it.” 

“We need to sleep though,” Brian said. 

“True,” Freddie said. “I have a feeling we can rest right here, if we want. I don’t think we’ll be bothered.” 

“How do you know that?” Brian asked, though he followed suit and sat by Freddie on the sidewalk. 

“I don’t,” he said. “Not for certain. But I sense it. We’ll be okay, for tonight.” 

The burned out car in front of them was shelter enough, even if there was no way to open up the doors and actually rest inside it, and the many blankets they had gathered as they’d traveled became a makeshift bed on the ground. 

True to Freddie’s word, no one bothered them as they snuggled together and slept, packs and bags close enough to grab if they should have to run. 

But they didn’t hear the footsteps that went by, and paid them no mind. 

[artmilkyway]

The little Mermaid with Red hair learns to walk