#where you want to send the writer a great bottle of whiskey

[tessa-quayle]

this married mother of two would also like to look and appreciate and KNOCK SOME SENSE into these “idiot dorksicles” 😂

at the risk of weeping again (it’s the onions, I swear, I'm not crying you’re crying), I need to reread and study how you wrote this because it is one of the best - if not the best - examples of POV back-and-forth switches.  So smooth, unlike our favorite dorksicles.  And that interlude where their quotes to their families are side-by-side - fucking virtuoso. it’s ferociously brilliant without being precious.  the fic isn’t even over and the audience is already on their feet. 

just a few more thoughts: 1) love how the families are low-key staging interventions, 2) I spy that Pedro tattoo shout-out ;), 3) so many mentions of holiday movies but have y’all noticed this chapter is like a holiday movie too?!, 4) appreciate the moon landing and Saturn V part - great evocative choice for so many reasons, particularly in capturing Ben and Lydia’s connection, angst, wonder, ache, and hope so overwhelmingly well.  But it begs the question: who’s Michael Collins here? 😎

Visiting - Chapter 8: Sister Winter

(Moodboard by the wonderful @cutesyscreenname)

Pairing: Professor!Ben (College AU) x OFC Lydia/fem!Reader (reader POV/2nd POV)

Summary: Seeking a change of scenery after her life falls apart, Lydia crosses the Atlantic and arrives in a small New England town, to spend a year expanding her intellectual horizons as a visiting professor of art history at a small liberal arts college. Her growing friendship with Ben Morales, professor of Hispanic literature, forces Lydia to confront the fallout from her past - and raises unexpected questions about the future.

Chapter summary: The morning after brings complicated feelings as Ben and Lydia return to their respective families for the holiday season.

Word Count: 7.7k

Rating: Explicit (MDNI; 18+)

Content (chapter specific): Professor Ben College AU; smaller-than-usual-for-this-fandom age gap (Lydia is 42, and Ben is 47); canon is not a thing here; slow burn; idiots-to-lovers; references to PiV sex; strong language; alcohol consumption; weight and body insecurity; serious self-esteem issues; references to panic attacks and anxiety disorders; references to the holidays; both Ben and Lydia come from families that mark Christmas; angst central.

A/N: The title of this chapter is inspired by Sufjan Stevens' eponymous song, which is one of my go-to Melancholy Winter Tracks. And yes, it was really weird writing Christmas in July.

I'm so grateful for all the love I've had for this story and for this pair. Every comment and reblog and ask is a little lift to my soul!

This chapter introduces Lydia and Ben's extended families. In addition to their chosen and found families, both in work and in their friendship groups, this pair are from closely-knit families of origin - though of course, that brings with it its own challenges.

Further A/N after the chapter to avoid spoilers.

See the Series Masterlist for an outline of Lydia's story and background.

Cross-posting to AO3.

Chapter 7 - Chapter 9

@lunapascal and @julesonrecord - thank you for cheering me on and offering wise and practical advice with this difficult chapter. @tessa-quayle - I am always so touched by your enthusiasm for these idiot dorksicles (a term I am appropriating from Jules).

Taglist:

@lunapascal, @julesonrecord, @cutesyscreenname, @tessa-quayle, @vermillionwinter, @iamskyereads, @tieronecrush, @perennialdoll247, @love-the-abyss, @imaswellkid, @intheorangebedroom, @javierisms, @fuckyeahdindjarin, @littlemisspascal, @khindahra, @pedrostories, @readingiskeepingmegoing, @ruebyretro, @rhoorl

Ben is a deep sleeper - or maybe he was just completely worn out after your exploits that night. 

Either way, he doesn’t even move a muscle as you shift towards the edge of the mattress, fumbling your way out of bed and carefully tip-toeing across the floor, gathering your underwear and dress as you come across them on the floor.

The panic hit you when you woke around 5am, eyes flicking open suddenly in the dark stillness of Ben’s bedroom. The only sound was his soft, steady breathing, interspersed with the occasional tiny snore. In slumber, he somehow appeared even more handsome, more beautiful, snugly nestled into his pillow and hair sticking up at all angles. Fragments of light peeked around the edges of the blinds, picking out some of his features.

Whereas a couple of hours before his lovely face had felt like a comfort, in the wee small hours of the morning it triggered doubt. Your brain promptly forgot everything he had said about how beautiful he thought you were, how much he’d wanted you. Instead, it struck up a familiar, repetitive chorus.

He couldn’t really want you. He’s so gorgeous. You don’t deserve him. He’s sexy and kind and good and you’re a mess. Even if he thinks he wants you now, eventually he’ll realise he’s made a mistake. 

In the light of day, you might have been able to muster the little tricks you’d learned in therapy to quiet the voice of your inner bully. In the early hours, vulnerable and anxious in Ben’s bed, the chorus simply grew more insistent. 

So you carefully get out of bed and pick up your clothes. You pad out of the bedroom and find the bathroom, hoping that a splash of cold water might reset your thinking. 

Instead, the sight of yourself in the mirror just serves as further evidence for the case against you. Your makeup is smudged, settling into every line and wrinkle. You look jowly and heavy: matronly, even, and certainly not worthy of the handsome, good man whose bed you’d shared. 

You feel the defences around your heart building themselves back up again. 

You shouldn’t have let them down in the first place.

Still, you seem to want to somehow change your own mind. You tip-toe back across the hallway and peer around the door into the bedroom, as if maybe seeing Ben might quell the panic that’s beating a frantic, jolting rhythm in your chest. 

He’s still in the same position, his back to you as you stand at the door. There’s not a lot of him that’s visible, save for the tufts of messy hair and the outline of his broad form under the comforter. 

The panic eases momentarily as you feel a surge of affection and want. For an instant, you allow yourself to remember how good it felt to make love with him, to laugh and kiss and hold and touch and fuck together.

You have to leave in a few months. It would have to end one way or another. You couldn’t face that. You couldn’t go through the pain. And what if you hurt him, too? Better to get out now.

You return to the bathroom to dress quickly and quietly. In the semi-darkness, you pad down the stairs and retrieve your shoes, bag, and coat from the hallway. 

What the fuck are you doing?

“I’m getting out before he has the chance to reject me. Before we get too deep. Before I have to go home. Before it has to end. Before I hurt him.” 

Before I fuck it up, like I always do. I always ruin everything.

You remember from Thanksgiving that there’s a little notepad in the kitchen, for shopping lists and reminders. You think for a few moments before writing a note to Ben, folding it over and affixing it to the front of his fridge with a magnet. 

You know this is going to hurt him.

“Better than really hurting him further down the line, even if I’d never want to. I don’t deserve him.”

You try to block out the memory of the evening before, urgent declarations of want and your bodies pushed together against the hallway wall, as you quietly open the front door and leave. 

His immediate instinct as he blinks awake and stretches his long arms is to reach for you, to find your soft, warm body and pull you to him for another kiss, another cuddle; another chance to feel you, so wet and tight and perfect, as he sinks back into you.

“Mmmmm. Morning, baby.” Nothing.

Ben sits up and realises he’s on his own. He wanders around the upper floor of his home, calling your name, as if he’ll summon you out of the ether by repeating it.

He moves down the stairs and into the hallway, now filled with the crisp morning light of midwinter. Still nothing. 

His final hope is that you’re in the kitchen. Maybe you couldn’t sleep. Maybe you were hungry, or thirsty. 

“Lyddie?”

No you. Just a note.

“What the fuck, Lyddie. What the fuck are you doing?”

He leans back against the countertop, staring at the folded piece of paper - at his name, carefully inscribed in your neat, flowing script.

Dear Ben, 

Thank you for last night - it was great, really. I thought it would be easier if I just headed out. I didn’t want to wake you. Safe travels west. Happy holidays. See you soon. - L.

“Fuck.”

The thing that really drove you out of the safe warmth of Ben Morales’ arms and bed and out into the half-light of a December morning, walking home to your empty apartment alone and afraid, wasn’t your fear of fucking up - at least, not really. It was part of it, true, but what tipped the balance was not just fear, but feelings.

You pack the last of your things for the journey home for the holidays and try to ignore that simple fact. You had kept your defences up so sturdily and so dutifully for a long time, until he came along. Until you had to go catching feelings for a man who lived an entire ocean away from you.

You were frightened of fucking up because what you had - the friendship, whatever situation you entered into when he pressed his lips to yours and took you into his bed - meant the world to you. You were scared of hurting him, and of being hurt, because you cared about him so much. 

It was a strange paradox: you had done something that hurt the two of you now, in order to avoid the potential for greater pain further down the line. You’d always had a natural inclination to run from things that scared or overwhelmed you, after all. In your own, tortured logic, it made sense to run from the sheer force of your feelings for Ben. 

As you checked and double-checked the apartment while waiting for your cab to the airport, you remembered David’s words and felt a little guilty. You’d tried, though. You’d tried to let the light in. You just hadn’t expected it to blind you.

You’ve been avoiding your phone, save for sending a message to your family group chat to let them know you were safely en route to the airport. When your mother’s name pops up, you open the message.

MOM: Good woman, Lyd, you’re there good and early! Time to have a nice coffee and a bite to eat. Can’t wait to see you! 

Your mother was always thrilled when you got to the airport ahead of schedule, knowing your propensity for last-minute panic. You had no idea how to explain to her why you were sitting, red-eyed and heartbroken, in an airside coffee shop three whole hours early. 

You still hadn’t opened the two voice notes from Ben. A missed call on the phone, which you spotted after you got through security, then the two notes. Part of you had hoped that if you just ignored them long enough, they’d go away. Typical Lyd.

You take a deep breath and a sip of your enormous festive coffee, topped with whipped cream and sprinkles and reeking of peppermint syrup. You pop in your earbuds and press play.

The sound of his voice is like a knife to the heart. You’d feared anger, but instead Ben sounds like he’s aching.

“Hi, Lyddie - Lydia. I, uh, I got your note. Um. I guess I thought we were on the same page, about… about last night. Maybe not. Sorry if I got the wrong idea. I… anyway. I guess you’re on your way home now, or about to be. I’ll, um - I’ll talk to you. Happy holidays. Safe travels.”

It’s all you can do not to run out of that airport and hop into a cab back to his place, to hold him, to tell him how sorry you are, to beg him to forgive you for being a fucking idiot.

You’ve fucked it up. Told you you would.

You press play on the second voice note. His voice, still cracking a little, sounds stronger, steadier, more determined.

“Hi, just wanted to say - I don’t regret it. I don’t regret that we spent the night together. I’ll never regret that, no matter what. It meant something to me. I don’t want you to regret it, Lyd. Please.”

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you press ‘call’. He doesn’t answer. 

Ben listens to your voice note again while he’s sitting in the departures lounge, a day after you’d passed through. He hasn’t slept very much in the last day and a half. This morning, when he was washing his face and trimming his beard and moustache, he was sure he’d aged a decade in the space of less than 48 hours. The delay to his flight gives him plenty of time to nurse an enormous black coffee, though he wishes it was something even stronger.

“Hi. I’m at the airport. I tried calling, but - I guess you’re busy. Or maybe you just don’t want to talk. I understand why you - listen, I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, I don’t know what - I can explain, it’s just - it’s hard not being able to do that face to face. I promise, I can explain. I can. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Ben.”

Your voice catches at that point in the voice note, and he can hear you trying not to completely break down. It breaks his heart every time he listens to the message.

“I guess I will see you in the new year, then? I promise I’ll explain then. Safe travels west. Okay, then. Bye.”

Jet lag is a bitch. But you summon the strength and focus to slip in your earbuds in the privacy of your childhood bedroom at home, and press play on the next voice note he sent you. 

You might be imagining it, but his tone is softer. He still sounds hurt, but calmer, somehow. 

“Hey there. I’m just about to fly out. I got your message and - yeah. Probably best to see how things are in January. Maybe it’ll be good to have some space, clear our heads. Anyway.” He pauses, his voice quieter. “It’s good to hear your voice, Lyd.”

Oh, fuck. He wants space. Fuck. That’s not good. 

You take three attempts at your response before you manage to record a coherent message. 

“Hey. I hope the flights are okay, and that you get there safely. Yeah - um, yeah. Space, clear our heads. So, guess I’ll give you your space, until I see you and can explain. And it’s so good to hear your voice, too.”

You press send, your eyes glancing over the little round picture of Ben at the top of the screen. You say the words you’d left unsaid at the end of your message. 

“God, I miss you, darling.”

TJ Morales waits inside the arrivals hall at San Francisco International with his twelve year old twin sons, Dylan and Carlos. There’s only eighteen months between TJ - Thomas Juan, to give him his full name - and his older brother, and despite living on opposite sides of the country for a decade, they’re very close. It’s become an annual tradition, when Ben returns for the holidays, for TJ and the boys to pick him up.

This year, the three are decked out in an array of Star Wars-themed Christmas shirts to welcome Ben home: Dylan’s printed with a pattern of C3PO in a Santa hat, Carlos wearing a shirt emblazoned with Chewbacca wrapped in fairy lights, and their father wearing a pattern rather sweetly titled ‘We Wish You A Merry Sithmas’.

The running joke in the family was that TJ was the ‘cool brother’, a title he’d given himself when they were in middle school, much to the amusement of their parents. In many ways, that dynamic held fast to the present day. TJ, with his laidback personality, his long dark locks and neat beard, his array of plaid shirts, band T-shirts, and casual hoodies, still seemed to embody West Coast cool in a way that his more serious, anxious brother didn’t. His job certainly helped - a sound engineer for a video game studio, the kind of job both boys could have only dreamed of as they hid their shared Game Boy from their younger sister, Teresa.

Even so, as Ana Morales liked to remind people when she spoke about her sons, when she’d asked a three year old TJ what he wanted to be when he grew up, his answer was clear: “I wanna be like Ben.”

The sliding doors open and passengers begin to stream out, excitedly greeted by their families and friends. The two boys keep watch at the barrier, their dark curls bobbing up and down as they compete to spot their beloved tío first.

“Tío Ben!!” 

Carlos wins this year, waving frantically to his uncle as he pushes his luggage trolley through the doors.

Ben grins widely as he wraps an arm around each of his nephews, ruffling their hair as they show off their new holiday shirts. TJ throws his arms around his big brother, embracing him tightly. “Welcome home, hermano. We missed you.”

As he pulls away, TJ notices how tired Ben looks. His smile, genuine as it is, doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“You okay, Ben?” he asks in a low voice as they follow the boys out of the terminal and in the direction of the parking lot.

Ben nods, putting his arm around his brother as they walk. “I’m okay. Just tired. It’s been a long semester. I’m so glad to be home with you guys - it’s been forever.”

“Can I ask you something, Lyd?”

Your younger - only - sibling, Kate, is bouncing her one year old daughter Evie on her lap while Cora, her older girl, dances around the room and sings along to Encanto.

“We don’t talk about Bru- sure, of course. What’s up?”

“Are you alright? You’re normally full of energy when you’re home for the holidays and you just seem - I don’t know how to describe it. It’s like someone’s turned down your brightness.”

You haven’t said anything to Kate about Ben - well, nothing more than acknowledging him as part of the wider group of friends you’d established at Barrow. You certainly haven’t told her about your growing closeness, or what had happened, or - god forbid - your feelings for him.

It wasn’t that you two weren’t close enough for sharing that kind of confidence. You’d been brought even closer together since your ex-partner had cheated and left. You just felt like if you actually articulated the words, it would make it too real. Too much. Too fragile, too likely to disappear like every other crush or love affair you’d ever had.

“I’m just tired, I think. It was a lot in a few months - moving there, adjusting to a new environment, meeting all those new people, doing new classes. You know I’m always wrecked at the end of the semester.”

Kate raises an eyebrow sceptically while Evie chews on a giraffe-shaped teething toy. “There’s something off.”

You exhale, frustrated. “I’m fine.”

“Did you meet someone?”

Your eyes widen. How the FUCK does she know?

“I don’t know what the hell you’re on about. What gives you that idea?”

“You were happy when we’d talk and FaceTime. You were always so excited going out with your new friends. And now you’re back here you’re tired and gloomy. It just makes me wonder, you know - was there more than intellectual stimulation going on over there. If you know what I mean.”

You roll your eyes. “Jesus, Kate.”

“They’re working you too hard, Benjamin. Doesn’t your poor brother look tired, Thomas?”

TJ exhales and takes a sip of his coffee. He was used to the annual routine - their mother fussing over Ben like he’d been thoroughly neglected since the last time he was home. 

“I asked him earlier and he said he was fine. Didn’t you, B?”

Ben nods. “I’m fine, mom.”

Ana Morales does not seem convinced. “Well, you’ve got a couple of weeks now to rest up. We’ll take care of you.”

TJ shoots a look at the twins, who giggle conspiratorially.

The door into the kitchen opens and Lucy, TJ’s wife, staggers in carrying a precarious stack of lilac-coloured cake boxes printed with the logo for Pun in the Oven, her bakery and coffee shop in the city. Ben and TJ immediately stand up to relieve her of the burden, placing the boxes on the kitchen table as Lucy - or as she’s more usually called, Luce - wipes her brow and grins in the direction of her brother-in-law.

“BENJAMIIIIIIIIN!” She grabs Ben and pulls him in for a hug, smiling widely. “Missed you, man!”

Ben smiles softly at her in turn. “You look great, Luce. Any new tattoos since I saw you last?”

Luce arches an eyebrow and holds out her left hand, revealing a simple outline of a heart in purple ink in the space between her index finger and thumb. 

“Hope you don’t mind, dude. Took some inspiration from your bullseye for this one, just because I always thought the placement was cool.”

Ben spreads the fingers on his left hand, flexing his thumb slightly as he looks at the small bullseye tattoo he had done during his junior year abroad. 

“I’m honoured. Any chance your husband might get a matching one, eh?” 

Luce giggles and wraps an arm around TJ. “You know he hates needles. He got our initials done, that was enough for me. He was so brave.” She plants a kiss to TJ’s cheek, triggering dry-heaving noises from their sons.

Ana surveys the stack of cake boxes on her table. “You didn’t need to, Luce. This is far too much.”

Luce shakes her head and holds up her hands. “Nonsense. Just a couple of the leftovers from today and a few extra batches of the holiday specials I threw in this morning. Plus, for the homecoming…”

She lifts the lid on one of the boxes and pushes it in Ben’s direction.

“Coffee and walnut - your favourite.”

Ben’s eyes light up and he hugs his sister-in-law. “This is the best gift I could ask for. Thanks, Luce.”

“Don’t you think he looks tired, Luce? He needs to rest, poor boy.” Ana tilts her head at Ben, who is already searching for a knife to cut a slice of the cake.

Luce does think Ben looks tired, but there’s something else that’s just not quite right. A sadness, somewhere, or a resurgence of his anxiety. You can see it in his eyes. Maybe her husband knows more.

“We’ll look after him.” 

There’s always been something special about Christmas Eve. As a child it was the anticipation and excitement for the day to come, desperate to go to bed but too excited to sleep. As an adult, drafted in to help prep the food for the next day’s dinner, you peeled potatoes, sliced carrots, and monitored the turkey slowly cooking in the oven while listening to carols and Christmas songs on the radio. 

More than that, there was something in the air - maybe not ‘magic’, contrary to the message pushed in every TV ad since November. But possibility: of transformation, of newness, of togetherness, whether with blood family, found family, or whatever community you chose for yourself.

Or, just maybe, you’d completely internalised A Christmas Carol. Never mind Charles Dickens, that was mostly the Muppets’ fault.

The arrival of your little nieces in recent years has brought back some of the old traditions from your own childhood. You’d been followed around for most of the day by Cora, who had turned three a few months before.

“How does Santa bring all the things, Auntie Lyd?”

You smile and continue peeling potatoes. “I think he has some magic that lets him have a really big sleigh that just carries all the toys for everyone.”

“But then it’s too big and won’t fly.”

“No, it will. Because it’s magic.”

“But then he has’ta come down the chimley.” She gazes up at you, narrowing her eyes. “Should just use the magic to put the presents down.”

You’re stuck there. Thankfully, your brother-in-law Marc arrives in search of another slice of cake, and you palm her off on her daddy. 

With Cora and Evie safely in bed and asleep, you and your parents help your sister and her husband set up the living room, carefully setting out the Santa gifts and filling the little stockings embroidered with each girl’s name. 

Marc takes a careful bite out of the slice of cake and drains the glass of port left at the fireplace. “I don’t know how he isn’t absolutely rat-arsed, with all the port and whiskey and that being left out for him. No wonder he’s falling down chimneys.”

With your parents gone to bed, and Marc watching Die Hard on a random movie channel, you and your sister unwind for a bit with tea and Christmas cookies. She eyes you up, as if steeling herself to make a confession. Or, as it turns out, to encourage you to make one.

“So, who is he?” Kate poses the question at the kitchen table, hands wrapped around her gigantic Christmas mug of tea.

You put down your own mug and sigh.

One of Cora’s favourite questions about Santa Claus is how he does it all in one night. Apart from magic, which even at three she seems sceptical about, you tend to cite time zones as an explanation.

After all, how else could Cora and Evie be already starting to wake up to their gifts on one side of the world, while Santa hasn’t yet visited the extended Morales clan on the other?

With Luce and TJ hosting Christmas this year, they extended an invitation to Ben and Ana to stay with them on Christmas Eve. In truth, they hoped being roped in for an 80s Christmas movie marathon with his nephews would help distract Ben a little. Maybe even get him in the holiday mood. 

By 11pm, Lucy has finished the prep for tomorrow’s meal and is shooing her sons to their beds. Their grandmother retired a couple of hours before to the guest bedroom, carrying a dog-eared copy of A Christmas Carol - she likes to read the last couple of chapters every Christmas Eve, even if Tiny Tim always makes her cry.

“I’m going to head up, babe - don’t stay up too late. You have all the stuff for the sofa bed, Ben?”

Ben turns to acknowledge his sister-in-law, nodding. “All here. Thanks, Luce, it’s really nice spending Christmas Eve with you guys.”

She smiles warmly. “It’s our pleasure. Teej, I’ll see you in a bit? G’night, Ben. Merry Christmas.”

The Morales boys are sitting on TJ’s couch, each drinking a beer while Scrooged plays, quietly, on the TV. 

“You gonna tell me what’s going on?” TJ runs a finger along the condensation on his bottle of beer, sleeves rolled up on his blue flannel. 

Ben fiddles with the cuff of his own, pine-green checked shirt. “As in…?”

His younger brother fixes him with a glare.

“As in what - or should I say, who’s - on your mind?”

“He’s called Ben. He’s a literature professor at Barrow.”

“Her name is Lyddie - I mean, Lydia. She’s a visiting professor. I’m sure I’ve mentioned her?”

“I met him on the very first day. He was my - what did he call himself? - my ‘welcome wagon’.”

“We went to dinner, as we normally do with the visiting people. And we just…man. Clicked. As friends.” 

“I mean, I made a Big Night reference and he got it? Honestly, I hadn’t had such a good time in…I can’t remember. I told him about what happened - the shit hitting the fan, and all that.”

“I guess we just started hanging out. Having coffee, talking - just friendly stuff, you know? She was new, we had a lot in common. I - I liked having her around.”

“He was so sweet to me when I was settling in. Like, I have made some really good friends over there. But sometimes he’d bring me coffee in the afternoon, and - I dunno, I started to look forward to it.”

“She’s unbelievably smart, TJ. Doesn’t think it. Always puts herself down. Same as when you try to tell her she’s pretty. But she’s so fucking bright, I swear to god. And she has the best taste in movies and music. And she is pretty. More than pretty.”

“And he’s so kind and giving. He’s running this whole diversity programme to try to make Barrow less white and wealthy and he’s had so much shit about it from fucking dickheads who think Ben’s not as good as them because he’s Latino and because his parents had to fucking work hard for a living. Assholes. All that and he’s really goddamn handsome.”

“And she’s a bit of a firecracker when she wants to be. You know that culture war idiot Lacroix? She just went for him at the away day because he was giving me shit.”

“He’s so fucking funny. The biggest dork you’ve ever seen. Actually did a ‘reeling you in’ dance at my birthday drinks to get me on the dancefloor. Once, he laughed so hard in my office that his glasses flew off his face. Hanging out with him is - was - so great.”

“She’s got this knack of knowing how to lift my spirits. I said to her one day that I’ve never laughed as much in work before - I meant before her.”

“I was the only person to get who he’d dressed up as for Halloween. That was a fun night - at Evan’s. You know Evan. You’re mutuals with Evan on Instagram, right? We were a little bit merry. Well, a lot merry. It sounds so fucking dumb but we touched and I swear I could feel electricity going off in my brain, and I…I hadn’t experienced that in years. Years.”

“Had her on my lap on the ride home from Evan’s. I put it down to being a bit drunk on Spooky Margs but honestly, I didn’t want to let her go when we got to her place. I’ll explain the Spooky Marg another time, man, you do not want to know.”

“We do - did - a lot of movie nerding out together. Did I show you the gifts he got me for my birthday? And the card? He got me a Hitchhiker’s Guide card. Y’know, because -”

“42. The answer to the ultimate question. She’s 42. I don’t think I said that to you. I guess I should have known there was something there the day I ordered that card, huh.”

“I knew there was something there on my birthday, for sure. And dancing with him, to that song - fuck. For a couple of minutes I just let myself pretend, you know? But he never did anything more, not that night.”

“I wasn’t drinking when we went out for her birthday, but she was. So I didn’t want to make a move, in case she wasn’t interested and felt I was trying to take advantage. But I wish I had.”

“He ended up alone in Barrow for Thanksgiving, so he invited me to come over. I’m sure I told you about this? The parade, the movie? Well, it was - it was really nice. God, that’s such a shit way of explaining it. It was just -”

“Mom did a video call, remember? And she saw her and she was all nice as pie and then she was giving me shit about whether Lydia was my girlfriend, and why wasn’t she my girlfriend because she was so pretty and so funny, and - god. You know what she’s like.”

“And all day I kept thinking ‘I wish I could tell you how I feel’, and then I’d remember I was just fucking visiting. I’m temporary. It’s temporary, by default. And he couldn’t want someone like me. And you know I can’t go through that hurt again. You know, Kate. You saw me at my lowest.”

“I did think about asking her out that evening, TJ. I did. But she’d said some stuff about being ‘good friends’ or something, and I just thought it was safer not to. I didn’t want to ruin what we already had. You know? She probably wasn’t interested, that’s what I thought.”

“I went to give him a kiss on the cheek to say thank you.”

“I turned to meet her. I wanted it, wanted to kiss her.”

“And we kissed, accidentally. For a couple of seconds. At least, I thought it was accidental. Don’t look at me like that, it wasn’t long.”

“I wasn’t brave enough to kiss her like she ought to be kissed. She panicked and I thought she didn’t want it.”

“I should have kept kissing him.”

“We didn’t see each other for a couple of weeks, between conferences and travel. And fuck it, I missed her.”

“We messaged all the time and I still missed him. We didn’t talk about Thanksgiving. Not until - well.”

“So I told her I meant it. Meant to kiss her.”

“I don’t know what it is but tying a man’s tie is so intimate and so hot and - yep. We kissed properly.”

“We ended up back at my place the night before she went home.”

“We…we were together, the night before I came back over here.”

“I’m not being ‘coy’, TJ. I - okay, we slept together. Happy now?”

“Yes, okay, yes, we slept together that night, at his place.”

“And I asked her to stay. I wanted her to stay over. I was ready to drive her home and get her stuff. I would have gone to the fucking airport with her. Anything.”

“I woke up in the early hours and I just - fuck. I just lost it. I flipped. All the dark shit just came roaring back up.”

“She left a note. I couldn’t believe it.”

“The sex was not bad, fuck off! I can’t believe I’m about to say these words to my baby sister but - best sex I’ve ever had. Four times. Four fucking times.”

“I know I’m blushing, dude. It was really, really fucking good. Really good.”

“Who am I, Kate? A fucking cliché? I left him a fucking note? All because I couldn’t handle having real fucking feelings, because I knew I’d fuck it up. Like I always do. And oh look - SHE FUCKED IT UP. Again.”

“I really thought we were on the same page, you know?”

“He left me a voice note. Here, listen.”

“I tried calling her, but she was already at the airport.”

“I called him back. No answer.”

“I don’t think I would have been able to speak to her. She left me a voice note, too.”

“It would be easier to explain in person, right? Wouldn’t it?” 

“Maybe we needed the space and time apart, anyway. Especially if she regrets it.”

“He said we could do with the space. He said he hopes I don’t regret it. How could I ever regret that, with him? I’ve fucked it up, Kate. I know it would have been pointless anyway with the temporary visiting stupid situation, but - still. I ruined everything.”

Kate reaches over to pat the back of your hand, her festive, red and green manicure glittering as the light bounces off her nails.

“You probably didn’t, love. You always think you did. Can I - can I see a picture of him, if you have one? Want to see this nerdy sex god for myself.”

You open your phone and swipe through your pictures, finding one you’d taken of Ben on Thanksgiving. He’s holding his plate stacked with blueberry pancakes, smiling and bespectacled on the couch as you watch the Macy’s parade.

“Here he is.”

Kate studies the image carefully, eyebrows raised. She zooms in and out a couple of times.

“Well, hello, gorgeous! He’s handsome. Really handsome. Look at that smile, whew. And those eyes!” She zooms in and out again. 

“May I remind you that you are a married mother of two?”

“I can look and appreciate, can’t I?” She swats the air as if brushing your comment away.  “Fuck, it’s like someone engineered him in a lab for you. He even kinda looks like a mature version of those imaginary boyfriends you used to draw in your diary when you were thirteen.”

“He is fucking handsome, isn’t he? He’s so - wait, what? How did you know about those?”

Your sister rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Bitch, I read that thing cover to cover. You were so dramatic. Still are. You got any of the two of you together?”

You open your photos and pull up the photos Ani took of you and Ben dancing the night of your birthday drinks. “These are probably the best.”

Kate’s expression changes when she swipes through the set of pictures, zooming in every so often to look at your and Ben’s expressions more carefully. She looks up at you, hands you back the phone, and looks like she might cry.

“You okay?”

“Fucking hell, Lyd, you’ve got it bad. Both of you - I mean, look at the two of you! I know they’re just pictures but on top of everything you’ve said? I don’t think he’s just got a ‘thing’ for you, I think he’s really into you.” She chews on a cookie. “Remind me what you said in the note again.”

You recount the contents of the missive. 

“It’s just… you clearly have serious feelings for him. You’ve told me all these things about this wonderful guy. You told me it was the best sex you’ve ever had. And then you say ‘it was great’ to him in a shitty note?! I can understand why he’s pissed off.”

“I screwed this up, didn’t I?”

Kate throws her head back in frustration. “Still dramatic. You screwed it up a bit, but - surely he’s not that much of an asshole that he wouldn’t hear you out?” She drains the last of her tea from the mug. “Admittedly if it wasn’t Christmas, I’d be putting you on a flight to San Fran. However - talk when you get back. Explain face to face. Don’t assume the worst. I don’t think he can turn off his feelings that easily.”

“You don’t know that she regrets it. You don’t even know why she left without saying goodbye. You said she’d had some rough shit in the last couple of years. She said the night together was great in the note, didn’t she? And she’s been in touch, so… I dunno, man. I wouldn’t write her off.”

TJ takes the last swig from his bottle of beer and slaps his brother on the thigh.

“Can I see a photo of this Lydia, then?”

Ben sighs and digs around in his jeans pocket for his phone. He chooses the one he’d taken of you on Thanksgiving, sitting in the diner with your grilled cheese sandwich and basket of fries. You’re still wearing your glasses after the movie, smiling at him in your thick cable-knit sweater.

“That’s Lyddie - I mean, Lydia on Thanksgiving. She made that sweater herself, you know. She’s a talented woman.”

TJ smiles as he studies your features, zooming in a little on your bright, happy face.

“She’s a pretty woman, too. Beautiful smile, gorgeous eyes - kind-looking, and you just know she’s smart and funny as hell.” He turns to his older brother, wrapping an arm around his broad shoulders. “Your girl is lovely, Hubbell.” 

Ben smiles and huffs a laugh at the reference. “Quoting The Way We Were at me? Hi, Mom.”

“Hey, Ana Morales has good taste in movies! Remember the VHS copy she always used to put on and cry at?”

Ben smiles at the memory. He turns to TJ, eyes full of emotion - worry, sadness, and affection. For his little brother, of course - but for you, too.

“I mean it, Ben. She is lovely. She sounds lovely - disappearing act aside, of course. And the way she’s looking at you in that picture - fuck, man. You can just see how much she likes you. You’ve every right to be hurt and angry, but - maybe don’t give up on her. You’re both too fucking old to let a chance like this slide, bro. Don’t let her go.”

Christmas Day is a chaotic whirlwind of overexcited nieces, a family dinner delivered like a military operation, and fighting over what to watch on TV. Same as it ever was. 

It’s nice. It’s comforting. But you’re impossibly lonely, embrace of a loving (if stress-inducing) family unit aside.

Since you’d cut and run a few days before, the steady stream of communication back and forth between you and Ben had essentially ceased, save for the voice notes. It’s become such second nature to you, the constant contact, and the rupture is all the more brutal as a result.

In the early hours of Christmas morning, lying wide awake in your old bed, you remember that during the Apollo missions to the moon they had a thing called LOS, or Loss of Signal. When orbit took the craft to the dark side of the moon, all communication between Mission Control and the astronauts became impossible for a time. 

LOS was nerve-wracking, particularly in the first attempts at lunar orbit. What if they never re-established contact? What if something happened on the dark side, leaving the crew lost forever while the rest of the world carried on? You have heard the recordings, the hiss of static fraying the nerves of those on the ground awaiting the return of the signal, the sound of a voice spinning through the vastness of space.

You’re in extended LOS, you realise. In spite of yourself, you smile, thinking how in any other circumstances Ben - with his Saturn V model and his Apollo 11 sweatshirt - would love the analogy.

“Did you send him a happy Christmas message yet?”

Kate doesn’t even look at you as she says it, all casual. She’s too busy scraping the remains of the Christmas dinner off the plates before stacking them in the dishwasher.

“The fuck?” Her ability to read your mind is starting to become disturbing. 

She swivels. “Did you send Ben a message wishing him a happy Christmas? If I was you I’d take a nice picture and send it. You look cute in that dress.”

“Do you think he wants a Christmas message from me? I doubt it. He wants space.”

Kate closes the dishwasher and presses the start button.

“I don’t think he knows what he wants, probably. Other than you. I’m sure he wants you, going on the way he looked at you in those pictures.”

You make a whining noise. “That was before.”

“You and your apocalyptic thinking. Unfortunately, Lyd, if you want to fix this you’re going to have to be the one leading the fixing. Start with a message.”

She sidles over to the kitchen counter, where your phone is safely tucked away to avoid doom-scrolling, picking it up and waving it menacingly. 

“If you don’t, I will.”

“FINE. But I’m not sending him a cute selfie, that’s ludicrous.”

You retreat to your room. It takes you a full half-hour to pick a photo and compose a message.

A notification appears at the top of your screen.

KATE: SEND THAT FUCKING MESSAGE

Breathe. Send. Run away.

Ben sneaks another buñuelo from the pile made by his mother earlier that Christmas morning. The sweet, spicy kick of the cinnamon sugar with the fried dough lifts his spirits - as does the sight of his three niblings side by side on the couch, engrossed in a game on Dylan and Carlos’s Nintendo Switch. A twin sits on either side of their youngest cousin, Julia - Jules to all - and helps her manoeuvre the controller and work her way through the game.

Newly-turned seven, and the daughter of Teresa Morales and her Irish husband Pádraig, Jules might be the youngest in the family but is a tiny force of nature. Though he didn’t have favourites among the three, Ben had a special connection with Jules, who routinely mailed him letters and drawings every couple of weeks. He would diligently respond with a hand-written letter, usually enclosing a couple of packs of stickers or a new book for her to read.

“I’M BORED NOW.” Jules hops off the couch and saunters over to her tío Ben, who’s sitting at the table in the dining room off Luce and TJ’s living room. “Can I have a buñuelo?” 

He brushes cinnamon sugar out of his moustache and off his dark red sweater, and looks over at his sister, who rolls her eyes and nods in resignation. “Your mom says yes, so…” He holds out the plate. 

Jules scrunches her nose up in delight as she takes a bite, then cocks her head as she studies her uncle. “I think you might be sad.”

This is a perceptive kid, Ben thinks. 

“I’m okay, Jules. Just a little tired.”

She chews another bite of her snack and shakes her head. “No. I think you’re sad. I can make you happy, though!” She makes a serious face. “Wait here, okay?”

She returns carrying a bundle of brightly-coloured hair clips and what looks suspiciously like a couple of bottles of nail polish. 

“Mama always says she feels happier when she gets her hair done. And has her pretty nails.” 

The little girl perches herself on a chair, sets out her equipment, and gets to work, tongue peeking out as she concentrates on painting Ben’s nails (she adds a glittery topcoat for extra effect) and carefully placing hair clips in his hair. 

“Everyone, tell tío he looks pretty!”

The rest of the extended Morales clan turn to look at Ben. Dylan and Carlos immediately grab their phones to take photos. TJ raises his eyebrows and nods approvingly. 

“That makeover stays put for the rest of the day, Ben.” Teresa is deadly serious, not wanting her little girl to see her handiwork undone. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Thank you, Jules. I feel much better.”

You allow yourself a glance at your phone later that evening, a glass of champagne lending you some extra courage.

Still nothing.

You cast a glance at the contents of the little gift box Ben had left for you before leaving Barrow. A beautiful, dark red notebook, subtly personalised with your initials in embossed lettering - and a set of Nouvelle Vague-themed film button badges.

“Stupendous as always, Luce!” 

Ben and TJ carry stacks of empty dinner plates into the kitchen, the family well-fed and content after their Christmas meal of beef and a seemingly endless selection of side dishes. 

Lucy is preparing dessert, which mostly consists of the cakes and cookies left over at Pun in the Oven when they closed for the holiday the day before, served with ice cream and fresh fruit.

“Your mom did a lot of the work, guys. Can’t take all the credit. Hey, TJ, can you carry this cake stand in with you? Thanks, babe.”

She notices that Ben has a somewhat wistful expression on his face as he sorts out the dirty dishes.

“Hey, I just wanted to say - I asked TJ if he knew what was going on with you, and…”

Ben nods and smiles. “He told you.”

“I’m with him, Benjamin. From what you told TJ, I think this is worth fighting for. Or at least, it’s worth giving her a chance to explain properly.” 

He casts his gaze downwards. “You know, when I saw those photos the boys took of my ‘makeover’, the first thing that popped into my mind was ‘I better send these to Lyd’.”

“You miss her.” Luce pats him on the back. “So why don’t you? Send them, I mean.”

Ben turns to her in astonishment. “Seriously? We said we were giving each other space, time… and I’m still not sure what she wants.”

His sister-in-law rolls her eyes. “If you don’t send her a happy holidays message with one of those pictures - I will. And you know I don’t fuck around.”

He stands with one hand on his hip, bringing the other up to cover his face. “I know you don’t. Shit. Okay. I’ll do it. But only so you - or worse, TJ - don’t.”

Luce does a tiny dance for joy as Ben turns to leave. She spots - and recognises - a baby pink no-crease hair clip sticking out of his dark hair at the back of his head.

“JULES, have you been in our room??”

Ben settles himself at the desk in his brother’s home office, where he’d deliberately left his phone all day. He’s still not convinced that Luce is right about sending this, but she’s a woman of her word. 

He holds your gift to him, unopened, in his hands. He unwraps it quickly.

A pair of brightly-coloured socks, patterned with books and pens. And a soft, hand-knitted, merino watchcap in a Prussian blue, with a little tag stitched inside: Hand Knitted by Me.

He didn’t expect your name to be there, waiting for him, when he turned over his phone.

You had chosen a slightly chaotic photo of yourself that your brother-in-law had taken, of Cora bopping you in the face while trying to stick a huge bow on you. It would at least, you hoped, make him smile.

Happy Christmas, Ben. I was injured in a gifting incident earlier today. - L.

He selects a photo of himself showing off his painted nails, his hair festooned with coloured clips, while Jules beams in the background at her handiwork.

Merry Christmas, Lyd. I got a holiday makeover courtesy of Jules. - B.

You each hope that the other will somehow be able to read, in the gaps, the words left invisible:

I’m so sorry.

I don’t know why you did it.

I care so much about you.

I really miss you.

I think about you all the time.

I want you.

(bookshelf divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more; other dividers by @cafekitsune)

Further A/N: TJ's 'Your girl's lovely, Hubbell' is, of course, a reference to The Way We Were.

[nitewingbabi]

Control | I

pairing ; Charles Xavier x Reader

summary ; You were Charles’s assistant. You followed him everywhere and helped him with anything he needed. But there was one thing that he and everyone else around you had that you didn’t. The mutation gene. It was what you desired since you first became aware of mutants, to feel powerful. There was a camp hidden somewhere kidnapping mutants and humans, and Charles was determined to get you to send the message to the government. 

But you didn’t get to make it that far.  

warnings ; none

writers note ; this is my first piece after not writing for a while. Word count is 3.2K. Feel free to leave notes and if you’d like for the next part reblog or comment! 

Charles was always in his study, you were basically his assistant. You made everything happen when he needed it too. Need to fly the jet to Spain to find a new upcoming mutant? You booked it. His desk was a mess and he couldn’t locate what he needed? You knew exactly where it was. You helped Charles be the great man he is, but of course you’d never say that to his face. 

He made it clear to you anyways when he would stress about a flimsy piece of paper with random scribbles of nothing on it that he desperately needed. 

“What would I do without you y/n?” He’d say, like you made his whole world go round. 

“I need you to be by my side when we go find this mutant, it’s important I have you there.” 

You would be lying if you said it didn’t make your stomach flip and churn, making you feel like a teenager all over again. But it all wasn’t that simple. 

Charles could read minds, Hank was just a genius, Erik could manipulate metal, Raven could make herself look like whoever she wanted and get away with it, and you…your power was running after Charles 24/7 with a notebook. 

You weren’t a mutant, but to Charles that didn’t make you any less special than everyone else. You believed he only said that to make you feel better when he would read your mind while you watched everyone train from the sidelines. Wishing you were like them. 

It was late, but you knew Charles was still awake in his office. The faint cursing when he couldn’t figure out what he needed too. Every now and then hearing the glass bottle of whiskey pop open and his glass was once again full. 

Charles had been living in his office for the last few days, trying to figure out where this new army of mutants were building their camp. An attack was coming and there were reports of mutants and humans being pulled from the streets and taken to this camp. He believed the mutants were being turned or tortured and the humans, used as leverage. 

He had no clue where to even start to look, only every now and then in a lost dream would hints come to him. Names and their faces, but nothing else. 

You creeped down the hallway, questioning yourself if you should even approach him at this time. 

You were just about to enter his study when you heard another voice that didn’t belong to Charles. 

“We’re going in circles at this point, and you need to come clean to everyone about what is really happening out there!” It was Raven, and she sounded angry at Charles. What did she mean by that? 

“Raven, we’ll discuss this another time.” Charles was quick to shut her down, your heart raced thinking he knew you were eavesdropping on their conversations. Making quick work to clear your mind. 

“No Charles, we will discuss it now. We are in a crisis, and if we don’t do something to fix it everyone will fall out of line. And you will be left here alone.” You crept back behind the stairs, hiding in the shadows as Raven emerged from his study. Her blue textures skin gleaming in the moonlight peeking through the windows as she made her way to her room in a huff. 

You thought about going to Charles, tending to him to see if he needed anything but you didn’t want him to read your mind either. Instead you made your way to your room, opening the balcony doors and looking out into the distant. 

“Well, I thought I was the only one besides Charles who would still be awake.” You heard Erik’s voice come from behind you, it gave you a fright at first but you settled as he came and stood by your side, leaning against the railing and flashing you a grin. You welcomed his presence with a small smile which quickly faltered. 

“Now I might not be able to read minds like Charles, but I can tell when there’s something on someones mind.” You had never told anyone your secret except Charles, but you always knew how much Erik accepted mutants and wanted everyone to see the beauty in them. 

“I want to be like you. Like all of you. You all have such unique gifts and I’m—I’m just the errand girl. I’m pathetic.” You couldn’t look Erik in the eyes, his gaze too piercing and filled with concern at your words. 

“You know, when I was a kid I hated my gift. I hated that it seemed to only cause destruction to things around me. I wanted to just be normal, go to school, be just a regular kid.” You couldn’t understand where Erik was going with this, wanting to scoff at his words considering how proud he was of his ability now. 

“My point is, while you’re sitting out here wishing you were like us, there’s a little girl or little boy out there wishing they were like you. And it doesn’t even just apply to them, look at Raven, she hates that she has to disguise herself, she wants to be normal.” That scoff finally fell from your lips, anger bubbling in you. 

“You know what, it doesn’t matter. I will never be like you guys, but if there is ever the chance I can be. I’m taking it.” Your words were said with animosity behind them, Erik gave you a soft smile before returning to his room. Once again you were alone with your thoughts, you were hoping that one day there would be the opportunity for you to change, to be like the others. 

When your head met your pillow it was as if you hadn’t slept in days, falling into a deep sleep unlike any before. Exhaustion washed away from your mind and your body as you let yourself just rest for the night. 

The next morning you were met with the sun beaming onto your face, you had forgotten to close your balcony doors and curtains. The wind made the thin cloth dance around as you tried to come out of your much needed sleep. Only for you to see a silhouette out on your balcony. 

Get decent and come out onto the balcony. 

You knew it was Charles just by the way he leaned against the railing, eyes never leaving the scenic views. You were wrapped in the sheet, a thin nightgown just covering yourself modestly. You reached across your nightstand for your robe to wrap around you. 

Walking out to the balcony to stand next to Charles who still hadn’t looked at you. Oh no, maybe he knew. 

“I have to say, I didn’t think I’d need to have this discussion with you again y/n.” It wasn’t about you eavesdropping but you knew it was about what you told Erik last night. Asshole. 

“Don’t blame Erik, he did the right thing telling me. After all you are my assistant and I need to know whatever is going through your head. Y/n…you don’t need to be like us to be considered one of us. You have something that each of us want. You have the ability to always be in control of your emotions and your actions. We all struggled to control our abilities when we first became aware of them. As a child as well its harder to understand, to find people like you, who would understand.” 

You hated that he spoke to you like a student. Idiotic moron. 

“Hey! Watch your mouth or I’ll—“ he had finally turned to face you, eyes meeting yours before darting from feature to feature to take in your face. Your eyes soft and bright as the sunlight hit them, almost hidden through your lashes. 

Your skin so bright as a baby pink painted your cheeks, and your lips. Your lips were something he always thought about, the way they pouted when you lost in a board game, or the way they twisted into a grin when someone would make a joke. 

“We have a lot to do today, I’m so close to making a breakthrough on where this camp is and I need your help getting some errands done. As well as getting a message to the governor. I need you to go straight to his office, and deliver him my message and come back immediately.” Your mind still wondered on the moment you held with Charles but you nodded to agree before he could read your mind again and went straight to your bathroom to shower and get ready. 

Charles left your room to return to his own, changing out of last nights clothes that he had been wearing for the last 3 days straight. And a clean shave. 

You gave yourself a thoroughly good wash, soaping your body all over and letting your oily hair that’s always styled back with gel and a bit of sweat finally get the wash its been needing. You pulled our your best blazer and pencil skirt duo with a white blouse. 

You made your way downstairs, hungering for something warm and smothered in butter before making your big trip. You had made arrangements to catch a late evening flight to wherever Charles was sending you. You were welcomed into the main kitchen with the smell of pancakes, finding Hank with batter and flour across his face and in his hair. His black frames also fogged up from the steam and a spatula covered in grease in his hand. 

“Pancakes?” Was his only question as he flashed you a half crooked smile. You smiled back and nodded, taking a seat at the island as he served up a batch of pancakes and passed the syrup to you. 

“How did you sleep?” He asked, carefully flipping the perfectly golden pancake to cook the other side. 

“I slept okay, didn’t get much sleep but enough to function I guess.” You chuckled lightly at your own words. 

“I know its hard being Xavier’s assistant, he can be…tough to put up with all the time. But I admire you for sticking it out as long as you have. All his other assistants just couldn’t handle it. The calls in the middle of the night to go fly to Tokyo with him to help him find some mutant, the constant yelling and demanding when he’s in one of his moods, like I said. Tough but you hold yourself well.” 

It felt good being noticed by Hank, especially cause you never really had time to talk to everyone else except when Charles would lock himself away for days brainstorming. 

“Well its this, or the streets for me.” You replied, not sure if you should be proud of yourself or upset that you have devoted the last year and a half to being someones on-call assistant. 

“How many you want? I was hoping everyone else would join us but I haven’t seen anyone this morning. So I’ll just keep making some until you ask me to stop.” You flashed Hank a smile as you took your first bite into the fluffy buttered goodness that he somehow always made perfectly. 

“Eat up, you’ve got a big day ahead I’ve heard.” 

After breakfast you made your way to Charles’s study only to not find him there, knowing he was either with Raven in training or he was in his room. You made your way to his room, having been in there plenty of times to wake him from his comas majority of the time. 

You were about to knock when he faintly granted you permission to come in. You opened the door to find him buttoning up his shirt, his face freshly shaven and his hair slicked back. His body still glistening post shower and leaving not much to the imagination for yourself. But you pushed those thoughts back, not wanting him to read into the thoughts you’ve been thinking since the first day you met him. 

“I’m ready for my mission. What is the message you wish for me to deliver?” You asked, normally Charles would give you a hefty envelope with information or even a thin piece of paper to tuck away or a file. 

But this time he didn’t.

“Sit down y/n.” He gestured to the soft leather couch in the corner of his room seated across from another recliner. You made your way across the hardwood floors, feeling your jacket become tight around your shoulders as you had dreamed of something similar to this before. He sat down in the seat across from you, his eyes meeting yours. 

I cannot tell you this with others who could be listening in, so pay attention. I am going to hypnotise you and have you deliver the message. When you’re under you will be given a word that will trigger the information I am about to tell you when you arrive. That way this will always be safe until you reach the governor’s office. Are you ready? 

You nodded, closing your eyes and mind off to everything else to take in the information. 

Relax y/n, sit back and let your body undergo the hypnosis. Remember your mission. Listen to my voice clearly, every syllable that you hear will draw you deeper and deeper until you feel like you’re floating. Like your body is made of water your muscles fall into a deeper relaxation and your mind eases and you continue to go deeper and deeper, let my words pierce your mind. 

Y/n, are you with me? 

You nodded once again, his voice echoing in your head as he continued to talk you into a deeper state. 

I have come across information about this camp that’s hidden. It’s got to do with the disappearance of the humans. They’re not just torturing them, they’re turning them into mutants. They’ve found a way to make their own mutation cells grow and are turning people. This information is to only be delivered to the governor, no matter what you will not let anyone know including yourself this information until you are given the key word. 

When this key word is said you will fall into a state where you will share this information. Do you understand? 

Charles got up from his seat and moved towards your limp body, leaning over to brush his lips against your ear. The smell of your perfume flooded his senses, the smell of sweet honeysuckle mixed with a native plant he couldn’t quite put his finger on. 

He whispered the word in your ear, and you remained still. Completely entranced in your hypnosis still, Charles took the opportunity to move his lips away but his face stayed near. His lips now merely inches from your own as they began to brush against your top lip. A soft kiss, something he had wanted to do the first day he met you. 

He pulled himself away before falling in too deep and forgetting why you were here. He sat back down, bringing his attention back to what he was saying. 

When you wake, you will forget all of this until the key word is said. You will not remember anything after the key word has been said. And now, wake up. 

And just like that you did, your eyes taking a minute to adjust to the bright room and your mind feeling foggy. 

“Okay y/n, you have your mission. Erik will drop you at the station and from there you will take the train to the airport. You’ve arranged for a car to pick you up from there and take you straight to the office? I’m counting on you y/n.” You rose from the leather seat, striding towards the door before Charles spoke again before you could leave his room. 

Y/n, be careful. 

 You nodded and with that made your way back downstairs to see Erik in the kitchen. 

“Ah y/n, are you ready to go? It’s going to be a long trip. Would you like something to drink before we go?” You smiled and nodded as he handed you a glass of water, sculling the whole liquid till the glass was empty. There was an interesting after taste though, almost sweet. You licked your lips and gave Erik a confused look. 

“It’s a special herb my mother used to put in my warm milk when I couldn’t sleep. It’ll also help relax you.” You could almost already feel the effects, your muscles feeling less tense than before but you were also wondering if you just believed it would. You grabbed your things, Erik grabbing your largest suitcase and helping you to the car. 

As you left the beautiful sights you found yourself already getting drowsy from the car ride, the radio playing silently which calmed you completely. 

You continued to drift off, your eyes growing heavy and the last thing you saw was Erik looking over at you. 

“It’s been two days, I’ve called the governors office multiple times and they said they’re still expecting her. She was supposed to get on the train and go to the airport and then get to her hotel. Why hasn’t she called?” Charles was fuming, everyone sitting in an intense bubble as they tried to think of what could have happened. 

“Maybe someone intercepted?” Raven spoke up, Charles just shaking his head as he paced back and forth. 

“No Erik would have told me. He would have said something. He said he dropped her at the station and then from there she left.” Charles even read Erik’s mind to make sure he hadn’t done anything to you. Gotten rid of you out of jealousy. But there was nothing for him to read or see. 

“Charles, we have to accept that—“

“Don’t even think of finishing that sentence I know what you’re trying to say and I do not want to hear it!” Charles had finally snapped at everyone, brushing off Hank’s suggestion of even anyone trying to harm you. If he found out if someone did he would ruin them. 

“Just get out, everyone I want you to search the grounds to see if she’s nearby. Contact every single mutant you know, find her.” His final words with spat with pure anger and everyone hurried out of the room to leave Charles. He slumped down in the leather chair in his study, pulling at his tie to loosen it. 

He closed his eyes, once again pressing two fingers to his head to search for you. As if he hadn’t been doing that for the last two days since you disappeared without a trace. But he got nothing. No sign, no contact, just nothing. He let out a huff before leaning forward to the two day old glass on the wooden coffee table sitting next to the almost empty bottle of whiskey. 

He began pouring another full glass, settling it back down when the last drop left the bottle. 

Where are you? Come on y/n, I know you. Just find a way to reach out to me.

Once again he received nothing in response. 

[jimmys-zeppelin]

ghostin'

chapter fifteen

(table of contents)

(chapter fourteen)

june 26, 1976

"We're here today with Miss Ellie Saunders, singer and writer of the newest song going up in the pop charts, Songbird! Would you like to say hello to our audience, Ellie?"

"Hi, everyone! Thank you so much, Bill for having me on."

"Pleasure's all mine. Last time we had you in the studio was...two years ago with your single, Dreamer, isn't that right?"

"Very much so! Since then lots of things have changed." Ellie chuckled, reflecting on the past for a split second.

"Yeah, you were just a wide-eyed kid who had no idea what the business was like or where you were going. Nice to see you settled down. Now, you're with Led Zeppelin's guitarist, Jimmy Page, right? How's that working out with their constant touring?"

Ellie visibly tensed. If they were there to talk about Jimmy, they should have just called him on instead, but alas she was polite and answered the question. "Yes, Jimmy and I are together," she chuckled nervously, "Well, we manage our time pretty well. He's currently away doing his stuff and I'm working on my new album, but we find time to get a phone call in before bed...middle of the night," she laughed, "we find a way."

"Adorable, you two are. So this album of yours? Got a title yet? And what kind of songs are we going to see on it?"

"Not yet," Ellie answered, but quickly saved herself, "we have a working one, but even that's under wraps for now. As for songs, they're mostly just your regular old love songs I guess. The experimental piece was actually one I plan to release soon. I really hope my fans enjoy it. It took a lot to write it."

"And the title?"

Ellie looked over to Carolyn, who sat across the room puffing on a cigarette. The brunette nodded at the blonde, allowing her to speak on the song, "Well the song is called Sign of the Times. It's about seeing a change in someone you love and having to accept it. It could be with a wife, husband, lover, friend; anyone you hold dear who you just...can't help but worry about." She explained, getting lost in her own words as she thought about Jimmy. "As you can see I'm still a bit raw about it," Ellie lightly rubbed at her watering eyes.

"Do you miss your person?" Bill asked, suddenly becoming quite sincere.

Ellie met his gaze, nodding, "I do." she said, thinking of what lie to tell people to convince them she wasn't talking about her lanky, dark-haired boyfriend.

"Well, now onto what you're here for. Tell me about Songbird, then."

"Um, well...there was a slight bit of a rough patch lately that affected me a bit. I decided to get my trusty notebook out and spew out all the words that would come. And Songbird came out of that."

"Some beautiful acoustic on there, who did it?"

"I did! Jimmy's not the only one who's well-spoken in the ways of a guitar in this relationship. Although I did want him to come play on it for me, our schedules just didn't line up." She shrugged.

"Incredible. Well, here it is, folks. The new song by Ellie Saunders: Songbird." Bill said, fiddling with some buttons and getting his turntable ready before removing his headphones, "you can take those off now." he said.

Ellie removed the bulky headphones from her hair and held them idly in her lap as her song played out to the broader Los Angeles area. She knew it wasn't the first time a station had played the song in the week or so that it'd been out, but it was different knowing that she was right there while it was playing out to thousands of people. It was daunting if anything.

"Ellie that was great. Thank you so much for coming on!" Bill said, standing to shake Ellie's hand. The singer mirrored his actions and went in for a handshake, returning the favor.

"Thank you for asking me to come on. It was a pleasure. Maybe I'll come back when Sign of the Times comes out." She said with a wink.

"Of course," Bill replied, "tell me. In confidence; off the record. Is there a title for the new record?"

Ellie contemplated her honest answer, then exhaled through her nose in a laugh before answering, "No, actually. I have no idea what it's called. I've been so focused on writing songs that...I just haven't had time to think of a title, honestly." Ellie laughed as she spewed the honest truth.

Bill laughed out loud at the comment, giving Ellie a pat on the back, "Seriously, Ellie, come back any time. New song, new album, or if you just wanna chat with me for the morning segment. It would be great."

"Thank you so much, Bill." She repeated as she started picking up her bags. Carolyn put out her cigarette in an ashtray near the microphones and gave Bill a firm handshake. The women left the building shortly after.

After they'd been settled in the car to take them back to the studio, they finally got a chance to take a breather and relax. Things had been moving at a touch and go pace since finishing the two bigger singles. The rest of the songs still needed more, Ellie thought. It often occupied her mind just what she wanted to add to each song. That and Jimmy.

Not only was she concerned about him, she found herself getting increasingly more discouraged when she spoke with him. Like she was walking on eggshells when it came to a conversation with him. If either of them said the wrong thing, the other would get set off. Ellie found herself as more of the latter. She hated arguing while they were away from each other, but she couldn't help comment about his activities. He knew her disdain of it and it seemed there wasn't much else to talk they had to talk about since their days were full of nothingness lately.

☆

Andrew came over late that night. One more song on the album had been finalized and he deemed it enough to celebrate. Five of twelve songs completed, in case anyone was counting.

"Cheers to another amazing song by my best friend." Andrew said, raising a glass of some old whiskey Ellie had had hidden in her house since she'd moved in. The blonde could hardly remember who had given it to her. It seemed it just was a part of the house at that point.

They clinked glasses and each took a sip, both inevitably coughing and gagging at the taste and giggling at their reactions. Their conversation carried on until Ellie's eyes wandered to her stack of mail. Since getting home she hadn't had much time to give it a look so she gave each letter a once-over before focusing on Andrew again. That was the plan, at least.

However, a postcard caught her eye and she couldn't help but pick it up.

'Sunset Strip, Hollywood, California' Read the front as it was decorated with a photo of the infamous Sunset Strip at night. Ellie flipped over the postcard, her eyes quickly darting past the words that had been scrawled onto the paper.

'I recall you saying something about the Sunset Strip calling your name when we went out for dinner. How about we go out again sometime soon? You can be a Dreamer about life again. Call me when you get this. 213-xxx-xxxx

Hugs, Roger

P.S. Did you get the reference of your song that I used?

P.P.S. Ask for Simon Ferocious'

The blonde furrowed her eyebrows, but was delighted at the prospect that Roger would send her a postcard. She reached for the phone, starting to dial the numbers.

"What's up?" Andrew asked, taking another sip of the blasted whiskey, to which he exhaled sharply only seconds later. He set the cup down in disgust.

"It's Roger. He's in California. Told me to call him." Ellie replied, handing the man the postcard as his hands reached out for it. The line rang while Andrew exhaled through his nose, laughing at the corny jokes made in the letter.

"Ritz Los Angeles, my name is Angela. How can I be of service to you this evening?" The woman on the other line said. Ellie was taken aback slightly at the discovery of the Ritz's hotel having been the main point of contact for Roger.

"Uh, hi. I'm calling for a Simon Ferocious staying at your hotel." Ellie said, trying to hold back her laughter.

"And who's asking?" She asked.

"Say it's Mrs. Page. He'll know who it is."

"I'll put you through."

"Thank you."

Silence came through the phone before the Hold music shortly began. An ear-raping jazz number made Ellie put the phone down as soon as the music started.

"Simon Ferocious?" Andrew asked, having come back into the living room with a near-empty bottle of blush wine Ellie had been keeping in the fridge along with two flutes. She shrugged as he poured the rest out for the both of them as the infernal jazz finally came to an end.

"Mr. Ferocious for you, ma'am." The woman said.

"Thank you," Ellie paused waiting for the clicks before Roger's familiar rasp came through.

"Mrs. Page, hm?" Roger asked.

"I heard we weren't giving out our real names." Ellie laughed, twirling the phone cord around her finger. Her eyes followed Andrew as he walked over to her record collection beside the turntable.

"Well, I had good reason. I'm staying on the down low."

"Is that it? Who's Simon Ferocious, then?" she asked as the sounds of a song she couldn't quite place by Led Zeppelin came flooding through the speakers. The song was from a  special release pressing Jimmy had gifted her when Physical Graffiti was released the previous year. Close friends and family received them. Ellie had been honored to say the least.

Roger chuckled, "A guy looking to take you out to a show. Someone there with you?"

"Just Andrew. He's my best friend—"

"And I'm gay!" Andrew shouted across the room.

"Nothing to worry about." Ellie smiled, and though Roger couldn't see it, he could sense it.

"Right. Simon Ferocious is something Fred called Sid Vicious because he was bothering him one day in the studio," Roger laughed, "Ask him about it one day, he'll get so cross about it."

"I think I might. Feel like you're not doing the story justice." Ellie chuckled. "So is Mr. Ferocious going to take me out to a show?"  She asked as Andrew returned to his seat on the floor across from the singer, munching on a cracker that was sitting on a plate.

"I was hoping to today, actually. Then I heard you on the radio this morning and thought you might be busy."

Ellie apologized for the delay, "I got your postcard yesterday, I just didn't bother to look at my mail because it was all mixed with bills and other junk that it got lost. I'd ditch Andrew for you any night."

"Bitch!" The aforementioned man exclaimed, slapping Ellie on the shoulder with a push. A bubbly, hearty laugh left her throat as she fell back onto the floor.

Catching her breath, she confessed, "We're getting a little tipsy." she giggled. "How much longer are you in LA? I'll make it up to you."

"I leave on the 5th of July. I have to be back in London so we can start the new album."

"Well let's go to a Fourth of July celebration! I think my record label's throwing one. They're usually on top of some pretty rooftops. It'll make for a great view."

"It's a date then. Keep me posted on this...roof party."

"Didn't I give you my phone number, Rog?"

"..."

"Hm?"

"I dropped the slip of paper in a puddle on the day I got here. God's honest truth, El. Which is why I sent you a postcard."

"I'll entertain that story for a while...." she joked, "I can give it to you again, if you'd like."

"Yes please." Roger said sheepishly; a shuffling audible in the background.

"626...."

---

masterlist | playlist

Taglist: @diaryofafan17 @tophats-n-lespauls @witchesdust @jonesyjonesyjonesy @paginate54 @hejustsatisfiess @salixfragilis @princesspagey @reincarnated70sbaby @rebel-without-a-zeppelin @kyunisixx if you want to be added to the list lmk!

[tiramisiyu]

【未定事件簿】 Tears of Themis: 【掌中流光】 Xia Yan’s Light in Palms Date Translation

--

Translation Masterlist | Xia Yan Masterlist

Video: https://www.bilibili.com/video/BV1nX4y1u7XA/

Because the timing of this date story is New Year’s Eve, I aimed to have it finished and posted for today (i.e. our New Year’s Eve). Happy New Year, everyone! Hoping that 2021 will be much better!

PART 1

Xia Yan’s House

Today was the last day on the calendar. 

As the first New Year’s Eve after my reunion with Xia Yan, we had originally made a chock-full travel plan - but before we were about to set out, Xia Yan suddenly received a command to return to the capital, and didn’t return until last night. Because I didn’t want Xia Yan to be travel-worn again, I decided on staying at home for a leisurely New Year’s Eve – a day spent playing games! A night spent feasting! Going at zero-o’clock to see the New Year’s Eve fireworks show!

Although, when we put this “Leisurely New Year’s Eve Plan” into action, it wasn’t very leisurely…

Xia Yan: Right side! The enemy went over there!

MC: Where where?! I can’t see it!

In a panic, I manipulated the video game controller to adjust my viewing angle, but I didn’t see anything at all.

Bang bang bang— A barrage of gunshot sounds suddenly started. My blood meter started losing blood crazily, just like a water pipe that had exploded.

MC: Ahhh! My blood meter’s in the red!

Xia Yan: Give it to me!

I immediately stuffed the controller into Xia Yan’s hands, but he hadn’t even received it firmly when my view went grey. My character had fallen in battle.

MC: …

MC: This is too much… 

Xia Yan and I attempted to refresh our save points from eight years ago. We were clearly able to co-op smoothly before, with flashing lights announcing our clears, yet we were actually on a losing streak today! Discouraged, I threw aside the controller, then reclined backwards into the beanbag chair.

Xia Yan: Don’t be discouraged – we haven’t played this for several years. It’s natural to be out of practice.

Xia Yan: How about we go through our save points for the casual games?

MC: That’s fine… I need to play some easy, refreshing casual games to restore my spirit.

Xia Yan: Then you can go ahead and pick a game. I’ll go wash some apples – after eating them, we’ll play!

MC: Mhmm!

While Xia Yan washed the apples, I flipped through his box of game hard drives.

MC: Xia Yan – why are there only a little over ten games in your box? What about the others?

Xia Yan: There in the other box, on the shelf on the right side of the computer – feel free to look there.

I searched in the spot that Xia Yan had mentioned. Sure enough, I noticed several boxes - the box in the corner of the lowest shelf looked particularly exquisite. Looking at the dust that had accumulated on the wood box, it had been placed there for at least several months.

MC: This box is so pretty… and it’s fairly heavy!

I carefully took the box and opened the lid – there was a bottle of sealed foreign liquor inside. The transparent glass in a rectangular column shape was filled with an amber liquid and the yellowing wine label on the bottle had English and numbers handwritten on it. 

MC: Why is the wine label handwritten? “Whisky”… it’s whiskey, right?

There was also a note beside the wine bottle. The paper had a firm texture, with a tall-stemmed wineglass and a curlicue letter “L” stamped at the top. There was neat, beautiful handwriting on the memo – looking at the writing, it was written by the same writer of the wine label. “Before reaching the end, the possibility of unexpected opportunities will always exist. – Bar L”

MC: (Is there some implication of this specific phrase being written?)

I had sunken into thought while looking at the memo. By then, Xia Yan had already returned, carrying the plate of washed apples. He saw the whiskey in the wooden box and froze somewhat.

MC: Xia Yan, why did you keep a bottle of whiskey? Do you like drinking whiskey?

MC: Is “Bar L” the name of a bar? They even gave you a note in here – are you a frequent customer there?

Xia Yan: To understand a city, the easiest way is to take a seat in the bars of the city.

Xia Yan: Plus, bars are the gathering places of all sorts of information. Of course I’ll go to bars often, to collect some information.

MC: So this bar is the one you go to most often?

Xia Yan: It’s one of them.

Xia Yan looked towards that bottle of whiskey.

Xia Yan: At the beginning of the year, I helped out at Bar L as a bartender because of a commission.

Xia Yan: The bar owner’s a great person and took great care of me. This bottle of whiskey that he brewed himself is a gift he sent me.

MC: So that’s how it is. But why didn’t you bring up before about how you even know how to bartend?

After Xia Yan returned, he’d already told me told me a lot of matters that didn’t involve “secrets”, but I’ve never heard him bring up this bartending matter back then. 

Xia Yan: Hm? There’s nothing special about bartending – it’s not worth bringing up.

MC: ???

MC: What about it isn’t special? What about it isn’t worth bringing up?! 

I was absolutely speechless. I really wanted to know what Xia Yan was like when he was a bartender and what kind of situations he encountered in the bar, but as far as I could see, Xia Yan still had a confused look all over his face – so I decided to find another way.

MC: Xia Yan, could you take me to hang out at Bar L?

Xia Yan: Ah?

MC: I heard that on the night of New Year’s Eve, there will be really interesting events in bars. I want to go see.

MC: Plus, it’s almost the New Year.

MC: Since the owner of this bar took care of you before, we should also say hi to him and send our respects.

Xia Yan: That’s true. The owner has also recently called me to come hang out when I had time.

Xia Yan: Then let’s go.

--

Commerce Street

With the hues of evening all around, the commerce street, hung full of holiday lanterns, was neon with multiple colors. On the corner of the street, a heavy oak door was hidden under the shade of a tree. A relief sculpture of a wineglass pattern and a curlicue letter “L” were on the door. 

Xia Yan: Here it is – we’ve arrived. 

MC: It has a major “hidden in the city” feel to it.

I looked at the oak door in front of me, feeling more and more expectant.

MC: (It’s said that bars are the gathering place of stories…)

MC: (I’ll definitely be able to hear about lots of stories about when Xia Yan was a bartender.)

I wanted to know those people Xia Yan had known and hear them talk about Xia Yan-related things. After all, those people there just might know a lot about those little matters that Xia Yan considered not worth bringing up. 

But nothing is not worth bringing up. 

I wanted to make up for all the stories about Xia Yan in those lost eight years.

PART 2

Bar L

When Xia Yan and I entered Bar L, they had just started operating for the night – there weren’t any guests. Under the gentle lights, the tables and chairs made from logs seemed to exude the gentleness of a past era. Xia Yan closed the entrance’s oak door, cutting off the moment of hustle and bustle from the street.

Xia Yan: Uncle Chen, I’ve come to bother you.

Uncle Chen: It’s Little Xia! Welcome, welcome.

A bartender standing inside the bar counter nodded and smiled at us. He looked like he was around 40 years old, with a face and voice that were equally gentle. After Xia Yan and I arrived at and sat down in front of the counter, Xia Yan did a simple introduction for us.

Xia Yan: Uncle Chen is the owner and bartender of Bar L. His bartending techniques and wine brewing techniques are incredibly amazing. 

Xia Yan: My bottle of whiskey was brewed by Uncle Chen himself.

Xia Yan: Uncle Chen, can we pass the New Year’s Eve at your place here?

Uncle Chen: Haha, of course.

Uncle Chen: The guests for tonight will definitely be very happy to be able to see the “Bartender Detective” again.

MC: “Bartender Detective”?

Xia Yan: It’s what the guests jokingly call me, because in addition to my bartending, sometimes I’ll do some simple detective work for guests. 

Looking at my responseless look, Uncle Chen helplessly laughed and shook his head.

Uncle Chen: This explanation isn’t exact enough.

Uncle Chen: Providing detective services simultaneously with his bartending isn’t the only reason why Little Xia is known as the “Bartender Detective”.

Uncle Chen: At the very beginning, it was because Little Xia once solved a guest’s problem within the time he spent creating a drink. 

Uncle Chen: After, even if they didn’t need a detective, guests still loved to find Little Xia to talk to, having him guess their profession, where they just came from, stuff like that.

Uncle Chen: Slowly, this nickname spread.

MC: So Xia Yan even had this kind of story when he was a bartender!

This “Bartender Detective” matter must have been omitted by Xia Yan as something “not worth bringing up”. Sure enough, I was right to come straight here!

Uncle Chen: I’ve only been focusing on talking and didn’t ask what the young lady would like to drink. My hospitality really is insufficient. 

Uncle Chen: Does the young lady want to have a hot drink like last time? Or do you want to try something else?

MC: Last time?

I only knew about this bar from seeing Xia Yan’s whiskey today…

Seeing that I was somewhat at a loss, Uncle Chen smiled.

Uncle Chen: Though today is the first time that Little Yan has brought a friend over, it’s not the first time I’ve seen the young lady.

Uncle Chen: On a rainy day at the beginning of the year, the young lady came in here and ordered a glass of hot drink from me.

All of a sudden, I remembered. At that time, a client made an appointment to see me near this place, but he suddenly had some unexpected matters to deal with before we met and would come a little late. Because it was raining, the nearby shops had already filled up with people, so I walked into this bar to avoid the rain and pass the time.

MC: Your memory is so good, being able to remember so clearly about something that had happened so long ago.

MC: Plus, there were particularly many guests that time because of the rain.

Uncle Chen: About this…

Without waiting for Uncle Chen to speak, Xia Yan immediately took over talking.

Xia Yan: “A qualified bartender does not only need to understand alcohol – they need to understand people even more. They should do all within their ability to remember the habits of each guest and let them feel at home.”

Xia Yan: This is the phrase that Uncle Chen speaks most often, so of course he would remember you.

MC: So that’s how it is. This must be the so-called “craftsman’s mindset”. 

MC: (Wait, since I came to this bar at the beginning of the year…)

A doubt suddenly flashed in my head.

MC: Xia Yan, weren’t you also helping here at Uncle Chen’s place at the beginning of the year? Why didn’t I see you when I came that day?

That day, it seemed like Uncle Chen was the only bartender in the bar.

Xia Yan: …!

Xia Yan’s expression got suspiciously panicked.

Xia Yan: I… I must have taken a day off on that day.

Xia Yan: During that time, I had a particularly large amount of detective commissions, so I was a little busy.

Xia Yan quickly placed the drink menu in front of me.

Xia Yan: Right, didn’t Uncle Chen just ask you what you wanted to drink?

Xia Yan: Fruit punch, the Cinderella, and the midsummer fruit drink are all non-alcoholic cocktails, and they taste pretty good. Want to try?

MC: (This forced change in topic – he’s definitely lying.)

MC: (Xia Yan, you’ve even learned to hide from me…) 

But for now, I decided to not take apart Xia Yan’s lies in front of Uncle Chen.

I pressed down on my thoughts, lowered my head, and swept a glance over the drink menu.

MC: Today’s a holiday. I want to order something with alcohol.

Looking at Xia Yan and I, Uncle Chen laughed.

Uncle Chen: If the young lady doesn’t have any special preferences, then I would like to recommend my self-brewed whiskey.

As he spoke, Uncle Chen took a bottle of whiskey from the wine shelf. The bottle was identical to the one in Xia Yan’s house.

MC: This bottle of alcohol… it seems like it’s the same as the bottle that you sent to Xia Yan before.

Uncle Chen: That’s right, they’re the same kind of alcohol. I feel like it very much suits Little Xia.

MC: It very much suits Xia Yan? Why?

Xia Yan: Uncle Chen—

Without waiting for Uncle Chen to speak, Xia Yan opened his mouth again. It was very obvious that he wanted to take over in talking…

>Prevent him >Let him

MC: (You thought I’d let you take control of the situation? Too naïve, Xia Yan!)

I quickly grabbed a piece of chocolate from the snack plate and peeled it open.

MC: Xia Yan, you must be hungry from talking so much—

Xia Yan: *mouth full noises*!

I stuffed the chocolate into Xia Yan’s mouth and covered it tightly. Xia Yan’s lips struggled futilely under my hand, and I faced back towards Uncle Chen. 

MC: Uncle Chen, is there a story about Xia Yan and this bottle of whiskey?

Uncle Chen looked at me and Xia Yan, who had no way to resist, the smile on his face deep.

>Prevent him >Let him

MC: (Let me see what you’re going to say this time…)

Thus, I put on a gentle smiling expression, looking intently and quietly at Xia Yan. Under my “friendly” gaze, Xia Yan closed his just-opened mouth up again.

Xia Yan: …

For a while, we were both silent. Uncle Chen looked at Xia Yan and I, the smile on his face deep.

Uncle Chen: Has the young lady heard of a phrase like this – “All the stories in a bar are in the wine”?

Uncle Chen: Would you like to try this whiskey?

MC: Yes! I’ll have to request you for it.

Uncle Chen took a glass cup, placed three ice cubes inside, and then used the bartending spoon to stir it quickly. A few minutes later, he filtered out the melted water, poured it into the whiskey, and mixed it again. The spoon slid unceasingly between the ice cubes and the cups, but it didn’t make the slightest bit of noise.

Uncle Chen: Does the young lady know how whiskey is brewed?

MC: I’m not too clear on it… is it similar to wine?

Uncle Chen: For whiskey to become pulp from grain, it needs to undergo germination, saccharification, fermentation, aging, and six procedures of mixing.

Uncle Chen: For it to mature, it will take at least several years, going up to over 10 years.

Uncle Chen: Within this long period of time, no matter how expectant or how anxious the brewer is, or how much they’ve put their entire physical and mental effort into this, they still have no way of absolutely guaranteeing the taste at the end.

MC: Is that so?

MC: (Although, what does this have to do with Xia Yan?)

While I mulled this over, Uncle Chen had already finished adjusting the whiskey. He gently pushed it over.

Uncle Chen: The whiskey – please try it.

I held up the whiskey and took a sip gingerly.  The alcohol that had ice added slid smoothly into my mouth, but the aroma didn’t weaken in the slightest bit. The oaky fragrance mixed with the grain’s sweetness.

MC: It tastes great! Uncle Chen, the liquor you’ve brewed really is too amazing!

Uncle Chen: I’m very glad you like it.

Uncle Chen: In fact, when this batch of whiskey was first completely brewed, it didn’t have this taste.

Uncle Chen: It tasted very spicy, its aroma was average – it could be considered a major failure.

Uncle Chen: But after leaving it for a month, it became the taste it has now.

MC: So it was actually like this? Why?

Uncle Chen: Because of light, the surrounding air, and temperature. Sometimes, these things that one must consider when preserving whiskey can instead end up bringing good changes.

Uncle Chen: A failure at one point does not represent one’s life.

Uncle Chen: Before reaching the end, the possibility of unexpected opportunities will always exist.

“Before reaching the end, the possibility of unexpected opportunities will always exist.” This was the same as the sentence written on that note from earlier.

MC: It sounds like you’re talking about wine, yet it also seems like it’s a philosophy that can describe one’s life.

Uncle Chen: The stories in wine naturally also have life to them.

Uncle Chen looked at me, his smile very gentle. I felt that he was implying something in his words - did Xia Yan encounter some sort of issue back then? But why didn’t he come see and talk to me? Instead, he hid from me…

I looked towards the whiskey beside Uncle Chen’s hand. On the glass bottle filled with amber liquor, Xia Yan’s expression was reflected, looking quietly at me. I met his gaze for a moment, and Xia Yan choked, coughing once.

Xia Yan: Ahem…!

Xia Yan: I just wanted to say, drink it slower…

MC: (Xia Yan…)

I was just pondering what to do next, when suddenly, the bar door was opened again. Uncle Chen looked at the person who’d arrived, then stood up very quickly to walk to the bar counter.

Uncle Chen: Excuse me – I must leave for a bit.

After Uncle Chen left, I looked towards Xia Yan again.

MC: Xia Yan, you said before that you came to Uncle Chen’s place to help because of a commission.

MC: Which means, it’s not related to work that needs to be kept secret, right?

Xia Yan: Uh… that’s right.

MC: (Since it’s not related, then it should be fine if I ask a bit.)

MC: Xia Yan, at the beginning of the year, did you encounter some kind of situation? So you…

Xia Yan: Nah, I just happened to not be there that day.

Xia Yan: Alright, we’ve already reunited now, so don’t worry about the thing from that day.

MC: …

This guy’s trying to change the topic again.

>Frontal attack >Guide patiently and systematically >Joke around

MC: (Xia Yan, you’ve forced me to use extraordinary methods.)

I deliberately put on my intimidating court trial expression.

MC: Don’t you know that you’re really bad at lying? Plus, you kept changing the topic in front of Uncle Chen!

MC: You’re not just lying with this – you’re even openly mocking my IQ!

MC: If this can be tolerated, what can’t be?

Xia Yan: I…

MC: Severity to those who confess. Even more severity to those who resist! Hurry and own up!

Xia Yan: …

Xia Yan: Great Lawyer, I’m scared of you…

>Frontal attack >Guide patiently and systematically >Joke around

I shifted towards Xia Yan’s side.

MC: Xia Yan…

Xia Yan: What, what are you doing…

MC: Did you really take a day off that day?

MC: You’re not allowed to lie to me. Look straight at my eyes and talk.

Xia Yan: …

MC: Why did you hide from me? If you met with me at that time, we could have reunited earlier by a few months.

MC: Could – you – tell – me…

Tugging on Xia Yan’s arm, I gently rocked it back and forth with a face full of sincerity.

Xia Yan: You’re using this trick again…

>Frontal attack >Guide patiently and systematically >Joke around

I pushed the whiskey that Uncle Chen had prepared towards Xia Yan’s hand. Then, I leaned over, lifted the wisps of hair beside my ear, feigning an elegant air, and gave him a smile.

MC: Handsome brother, I’ve got wine – do you have a story?

I deliberately used a classic line.

Xia Yan: …

MC: Don’t stay silent – from one glance, you’re clearly someone with a story.

MC: How about we chat?

Xia Yan: Where did you learn this from…

I was just about to continue when Xia Yan suddenly angled his head towards the bar door. 

Xia Yan: Ah, Uncle Chen’s returning!

I followed Xia Yan’s gaze. The guest from earlier had already left, and Uncle Chen was walking back, holding a document. Suddenly, a bell sound came from his body. Uncle Chen picked up the phone, and a few seconds later, he started to resentfully reproach the caller.

Uncle Chen: Do not call again!

Right after he said this, Uncle Chen hung up with indignation all over his face.

Xia Yan: …

MC: …

In astonishment, Xia Yan and I looked at each other.

PART 3

Bar L

After Uncle Chen hung up, he returned very quickly to the bar counter. He smiled at Xia Yan and I very apologetically.

Uncle Chen: Harasser calls – don’t worry about it.

MC: …

Did Uncle Chen run into some trouble? But would it be discourteous for me, someone who has just met him, to question him closely… I was just hesitating when Xia Yan asked him extremely directly.

Xia Yan: A harasser call won’t make you lose your composure like this. Did you run into some trouble?

Uncle Chen: Just a little issue.

Xia Yan: The document in your hands looks like a detective’s tracking progress for a report on work-related investigations.

Xia Yan: In the past few days, you didn’t just call me simply to have me come hang out – you had something that you wanted to discuss with me, right?

MC: (In the past few days, Xia Yan returned to the capital because of a command…)

MC: (Did Uncle Chen look for other detectives to help because of this?)

Xia Yan: “No matter what troubles a bartender has, when he’s behind the bar counter, he must have a professional expression. He can’t bring troubles to the guests.”

Xia Yan: I know this is your pride and persistence.

Xia Yan: It’s just that, as a detective, I want to investigate secrets when I notice them.

Xia Yan: So, I’d like to request the owner to take special care of the detective guest that likes to look for trouble that I am!

Xia Yan turned around and gently held up that bottle of whiskey on the table.

Xia Yan: Plus, I haven’t given a return gift for the unusually valuable gift you sent me before.

The past between Xia Yan, Uncle Chen, and this bar must run very deep. Though I still didn’t understand what had happened, I took over from Xia Yan’s words.

MC: As the saying goes, “three ignorant cobblers combined can surpass a genius”. If you need the help of a detective, Xia Yan’s the best of them!

MC: If it’s not a secret that’s hard to talk about, please talk about it with us. We might be able to help.

Uncle Chen looked at us, sinking into silence for a moment, then sighed.

Uncle Chen: It’s actually not something major – just a little upsetting.

Uncle Chen: Before, someone who I was familiar with borrowed some money from me, and signed the promissory note according to stipulated formats.

Uncle Chen: But last month, when I went to find him, he said that he has never borrowed any money from me.

MC: He denied it? But there’s proof.

Uncle Chen: So I sued him, and applied for a handwriting appraisal, but the appraisal results showed that the handwriting on the promissory note wasn’t his.

Xia Yan: Could it have been signed by someone else?

Uncle Chen: At that time, only he and I were in the shop.

Uncle Chen: Although… when it was time to sign, he told me that he wasn’t feeling well and had me help him by pouring a glass of hot water.

Uncle Chen: Now that I think about it, that was just an excuse. He took advantage of the opportunity to sign it with his left hand.

MC: With his left hand?

Uncle Chen: He was left-handed when he was little, and only changed after many years of rectification.

MC: Then did you do a handwriting appraisal with his left hand?

Uncle Chen: I also applied to do a left-hand handwriting appraisal, but the result was the same.

Xia Yan: Do you have the right and left hand handwriting appraisal documents here?

Uncle Chen: It’s here.

Uncle Chen found the right and left hand handwriting appraisal documents. Xia Yan and I carefully compared all the writing marks on it.

Xia Yan: Looking at the handwriting records of the appraisal documents, his left handwriting is, in fact, that of a novice’s.

Xia Yan: His pen marks are inaccurate, the places where he lifts the pen lacks strength, and the marks are crooked and shaky… all signs of lack of practice and inconsistent use of a hand to write.

Xia Yan: I’m afraid that he deliberately wrote this kind of font to trick the appraisal.

MC: He must be very skilled at using his left hand to be able to use it to write faked handwriting.

Xia Yan: That’s right.

Xia Yan: Since he’s thought up of tricks and plans to prove that he is no longer left-handed, then we’ll use his plan, that he used against others, against him.

Xia Yan: We just need to prove that he still can skillfully use his left hand for this appraisal to collapse on itself.

Uncle Chen: But there’s not enough time.

Time? I immediately reacted.

MC: After losing a trial, if one wants to change the verdict results, one must appeal within set time limits.

Uncle Chen: Yes, today is the last day of the time limit.

Uncle Chen: Before, I had other detectives follow him and investigate, but none of them noticed anything.

MC: (Uncle Chen felt that there was already no way out by now, so when we came in earlier, he didn’t bring up a single word about this…)

Uncle Chen: Good thing that the amount he borrowed wasn’t very large – it was within my bearable range.

Uncle Chen: Plus, suffering financial loss to avoid calamities might be a blessing in disguise.

Uncle Chen laughed kindly. He wasn’t comforting himself – instead, he was comforting us.

Uncle Chen: Let’s not bring up these disappointing matters on a holiday.

Uncle Chen: Weren't you two planning to pass New Year’s Eve here? For this year’s New Year’s Eve, I’ve prepared a lot of interesting activities –

Xia Yan: Uncle Chen, to give up now is to fall right into what he wants.

Xia Yan: I’m afraid that he purposefully borrowed an amount that you would be reluctantly willing to bear. He wants you to give up in the end, not wanting to make a big fuss over this.

As Uncle Chen was talking earlier, Xia Yan had already completely flipped through that detective’s tracking investigation report.

Xia Yan: I know that you’re worried that finding evidence within such a short time is too difficult. 

Xia Yan: In spite of this, don’t worry.

Xia Yan: I’m the “Bartender Detective” who once solved a problem within the time spent preparing a glass of drink, after all.

Xia Yan: There are still a few hours before zero-o’clock – we’ll have more than enough time.

MC: Uncle Chen, when I heard you talk about the “Bartender Detective” earlier, I was very curious.

MC: Just view it as you giving me the chance to personally see Xia Yan as the “Bartender Detective”!

Uncle Chen: But that guy has already noticed how I had detectives follow him. He called me just now to ridicule me.

Uncle Chen: He’s definitely already prepared thoroughly. If you go now...

Xia Yan: Don’t worry. I actually think that this is exactly something we can use.

Bar Street

Xia Yan and I went towards the most popular bar on the bar street – “HOT&CLUB”. Even several tens of meters from the door, the music surging out from inside was still audible.

MC: According to the previous detective’s investigation, this is the borrower Cui Xu’s most-frequented bar.

MC: As soon as we submit an appeal, Cui Xu will receive a notice from court. He’s bound to be extremely careful – getting evidence will be very difficult.

Xia Yan: So we need to get evidence that he is left-handed before 12-o’clock tonight and then have Uncle Chen file an appeal.

Xia Yan: Cui Xu is a frequent guest of bars, and he’s very skilled at bar games like table tennis and darts.

Xia Yan: We can set up a situation to make contact with him, lead him into competing with me, and then collect materials with that.

MC: Competing?

When we were little, a relative bought a dartboard for Xia Yan and I. Unwittingly, Xia Yan then developed a habit of throwing darts to clear up his mind when thinking.

MC: Your darts technique is pretty good, but competing…

MC: And do you know how to play table tennis?

Xia Yan: Of course. Plus, I’ve never encountered a worthy opponent these past few years!

Looking at my surprised expression, he smiled.

Xia Yan: My work requires me to get in and out of all sorts of situations. If I want to be freely adaptable to changes, I naturally need to know a bit of everything.

Relaxing, I nodded. Since Xia Yan said that there are no problems, there will definitely be no problems. Thus, I changed focus, starting to think about ways to lead on Cui Xu.

MC: For Cui Yuan to be able to forge handwriting, he must have high anti-reconnaissance awareness.

MC: If we’re too deliberate with leading Cui Xu to compete with you, we’d instead arouse his suspicions.

Xia Yan: We have to make it deliberate.

Xia Yan winked.

Xia Yan: Cui Xu just called Uncle Chen to provoke him – he’s quite arrogant.

Xia Yan: What would he be like if he saw a deliberate and third-rate trap?

MC: So you plan to use this detail about him to perform a bout of “the mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind it”?

Xia Yan: That’s right.

MC: Then I feel like this plan can be optimized some more.

Xia Yan: How do you want to optimize it?

MC: I’ll be the “cicada”.

HOT&CLUB

Xia Yan and I walked into HOT&CLUB. The sound of drums was deafening, and the dazzling lights roved over the bodies of the dancing guys and girls. Xia Yan embraced my shoulders, guarding me within the crook of his arm. We walked in the sea of people while looking for Cui Xu.

MC: Found him – he’s over there.

I was just about to head over when Xia Yan suddenly tugged my wrist.

MC: Don’t worry, Great Detective.

MC: I’ve often done this level of acting before when going to get evidence – I won’t expose us.

Xia Yan: I know.

Xia Yan smiled, slowly letting go of my wrist.

Xia Yan: I just wanted to tell you that I’ll always be behind you, where you can see me just by turning around.

MC: Mhmm!

-- I faked an expression like something unexpected had happened and walked towards the bar counter, sitting down on the spot beside Cui Xu. I first looked for the busy bartender on the other side, then, as I flipped through the drinks menu, sneakily looked over the other guests’ cocktails at the bar counter.

Cui Xu: Is this the young lady’s first time at a bar?

MC: Uh… it is. You can tell?

Cui Xu: Of course. Just now, you were looking all over the place, with an expression like you were at a complete loss.

Cui Xu: Are you waiting for a friend?

MC: I was stood up by someone, so I came into the bar to pass some time.

Cui Xu: It’s such a waste for such a pretty face to be spent on anger. Here, I’ll treat you to a drink.

MC: I’m not too great with drinking alcohol – I’m just afraid of getting drunk right after finishing.

MC: I’ve heard that there are a lot of games in bars, and I’d like to try them first.

Without changing my tone or expression, I guided my conversation with Cui Xu, turning the topic to what Xia Yan said earlier – an activity that could expose that he was left-handed.

MC: I’ll probably not bother with dancing… too tired.

MC: Working every day is already so tiring. It’s hard enough to get an opportunity to relax, so I’d prefer a quiet and interesting game. 

MC: Table tennis does look pretty cool, but there are too many people over there…

Cui Xu: Then how about darts?

MC: (That’s exactly it!)

I faked an ignorant expression.

MC: Ah, darts… I’ve seen darts competitions on television before, but I don’t really know how to play.

Cui Xu: No worries, I’ll teach you. My dart skills are the real deal.

As Cui Xu said this, he compared his thumbs, then stood up, leading me to the other end of the bar counter – where the dart machine was. I turned back, looking at Xia Yan, and he nodded at me.

PART 4

HOT&CLUB

Cui Xu: Right, you haven’t ordered anything since you came to the bar, yeah?

As Cui Xu spoke, he handed me a glass of “iced red tea”. The orange liquid was embellished with lemon slices, ice cubes, and mint leaves – bright and beautiful.

Cui Xu: I’ll treat you.

Cui Xu: This is a non-alcoholic cocktail, with a taste like iced red tea. It very much suits girls.

MC: Whoa, it looks very pretty. I can’t even bear to drink it.

MC: (As if anyone would believe it really is “iced red tea”…)

I hadn’t even been able to refuse it yet when Xia Yan’s voice sounded behind me.

Xia Yan: Using a Long Island iced tea to trick girls – that’s way too tasteless.

Cui Xu: Tch…

Cui Xu “hmph”-ed coldly, turned around, and slowly looked over Xia Yan.

Cui Xu: What nonsense are you talking about? Wanna start something?

Xia Yan: How could this be considered wanting to start something?

Xia Yan: This is a bar, after all. You’re not the only one who wants to strike up a conversation with a beautiful lady.

Xia Yan: Although, my method of striking up a conversation is – to find an opportunity, and to act handsome.

Smiling, Xia Yan sent a glance over to me, his expression reckless and brash. I, who had just led Cui Xu through the plan skillfully and easily, felt at a loss for a moment.

MC: …!

Xia Yan casually took the darts in my hand. His fingertips brushed over the back of my hand, somewhat rough and slightly warm. The dart spun in his fingertips, looking like a flower, becoming a sharp tip in flight. Xia Yan looked at Cui Xu across from it, his expression very provoking.

Xia Yan: How about we compete in a round?

Cui Xu poked at his eyebrow, then disdainfully sounded out a “heh”.

Cui Yuan: “501”, double entry.

Xia Yan: Sure.

After he finished speaking, Xia Yan no longer bothered with Cui Xu. He turned around to “strike up a conversation” with me.

Xia Yan: Beautiful lady, do you know how points are recorded in dart competitions? 

MC: Uh… I’ve seen a few competitions.

MC: The dartboard is split into a total of 20 divisions. Accordingly, the numbers on the dartboard are all different. Each are marked from 1 to 20 points.

MC: The two narrow circles on the dartboard are individually for double and triple points. It’s like this, right?

Xia Yan: You’re pretty knowledgeable about it. What a pity – I’d wanted to give you an explanation.

MC: Hahaha…

MC: (When we were little, I saw you play it so many times and accompanied you in watching so many competitions. How could I not remember…)

MC: Then could I trouble you to explain “501” and “double entry”? I’m not too familiar with these…

Xia Yan: The so-called “double entry” game requires you to hit the double-point area to start recording points, and it requires you to hit the double-point area to win the competition.

Xia Yan: As for “501”, each person’s starting points are 501 points. The accumulated points increase or decrease based on the dart throws.

Xia Yan: Each game has 20 rounds, and you can throw 30 darts in one round. The first person to lower their points to 0 is the winner.

MC: 20 rounds? So won’t you have to throw 60 darts?

Cui Xu: How could we let the beautiful lady wait that long! Nine darts is enough.

MC: Nine darts?

Cui Xu: This is the fastest, and simultaneously the hardest, way to win a dart competition – “Nine dart collection”.

Cui Xu walked behind the throwing line.

Cui Xu: Using nine darts is just three rounds to take the points from the original 20 rounds.

Cui Xu: The world’s first double entry nine dart collection was achieved on October 8, 2011, at the World Darts Championship’s semi-finals. 

Cui Xu: Brendan Dolan vs. James Wade. 

Cui Xu: Back then, the score count that Brendan Dolan achieved in the first round was –

He threw out a dart –

Cui Xu: D20.

Bam! – The dart stably struck the 20-point double point area.

Cui Xu: And then – T20, twice.

Following Cui Xu’s voice, two darts successively struck the 20-point triple point area. He turned around, raised his chin at Xia Yan, his lips curving upwards in a completely taunting way.

MC: …

Xia Yan met Cui Xu’s gaze indifferently and just laughed. He walked up to the throwing line and held up the dart very casually.

Though Xia Yan had said before that he had never met a worthy opponent until today, the skill Cui Xu just showed…

MC: (No, Xia Yan is definitely even more amazing.)

I silently stayed firm with this belief in my heart. Suddenly, a whistle sounded not far from me.

Xia Yan: Beautiful lady, why are you zoning out?

MC: !!!

Maybe it was because Xia Yan had poked at my focus on my worries, maybe it was this frivolous tone of his, but my heart was suddenly in a panic. I met Xia Yan’s gaze – in his expression, there was a defiance and brashness I had never seen before.

Xia Yan: If you don’t watch me, then no matter how handsome I look when winning, it would be all pointless.

The roving lights in the bar dyed Xia Yan’s figure with a hint of unruliness. In this moment, this figure that I was unmatchably used to… seemed to be somewhat unfamiliar.

Xia Yan’s mouth hooked upwards.

Xia Yan: Just like that. Don’t look away.

MC: …

Xia Yan’s voice seemed to carry a strange magnetic force, sucking my gaze to his body with no way to look away. Only then did he smile and return his gaze to the dartboard.

Xia Yan: If you want to pay respects to the classics, then be more thorough.

Xia Yan: Back then, the positions of Brendan Dolan’s first round of darts were –

Xia Yan: D20, in the middle, leaning left. 

Xia Yan: T20, right.

Xia Yan: T20, left.

Three darts consecutively flew from Xia Yan’s hands.

Bam bam bam – the darts plunged stably into the positions he just mentioned. Cui Xu held back the taunting on his face. 

Cui Xu: … Kind of interesting.

Cui Xu: Looks like we can play a little high today.

With a flick of his right thumb, the darts were thrown high into the air. Right after, his left hand grabbed in the air, and the darts smoothly slid between his fingers, a cycle of points between his five fingertips.

MC: …!

Here it is – I held on my phone, silently opening the video screen. The second round started, and Cui Xu stood again behind the throwing line. He threw faster and more precisely with his left hand than with his right – the areas that the three darts successively fell stably into were – T20, T20, T20. Right after, the third round – T20, T20, Bullseye. After the three rounds, Xia Yan and his opponent had completely struck off 501 points. 

But we already got our evidence. 

MC: (Awesome! Next, we need to remind Uncle Chen to submit an appeal.)

Cui Xu: Now, don’t you need to find an excuse to leave and have the old man submit an appeal, beautiful lady?

Cui Xu fiddled with the darts in his hands, looked at us, seeming to smile, but also seeming to not smile.

Cui Xu: It must have been that old man who had you two search for evidence off of me.

Cui Xu: He really knows how to make trouble – even found two detectives.

Cui Xu: Did you two think that I would relax my guard just because today’s the last day of the appeal validity period? Haha. 

He took out his phone, waving it in front of Xia Yan’s and my faces – 0:10.

Cui Xu: 10 minutes past midnight. The time to appeal has already passed.

Cui Xu: Your dart throwing was pretty good, but I won.

Just as Cui Xu finished speaking, we heard Xia Yan laugh lightly.

Xia Yan: They didn’t set up a clock in the bar because they wanted to let guests forget about the meaning of time after coming in.

Xia Yan: So if you want to look at the time, you’d rely on your phone.

Xia Yan took out his own phone, tapping at it a few times. Cui Xu’s phone screen suddenly blacked out, and in two seconds, the numbers on it had changed from 0:10 to 23:30.

Xia Yan: But things like phones are way too easy to hack.

Xia Yan: The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind it.

Xia Yan: The people executing a ruse aren’t just you alone.

Cui Xu: You rascal!

Cui Xu’s complexion suddenly paled, and he rushed at Xia Yan.

Bang! Xia Yan raised his arm – I couldn’t see his movements at all, I just saw Cui Xu directly tumbling over in the space between us.

Cui Xu: Ahh!

PART 5

Street

After, Xia Yan immediately contacted Uncle Chen to have him submit an appeal online.

Xia Yan: Alright, smoothly resolved!

Xia Yan: Let’s head back. It’s nearly zero-o’clock, and the New Year’s Eve activities at Uncle Chen’s place –

When he mentioned Bar L, Xia Yan suddenly stopped.

MC: What’s up?

Xia Yan: …

Xia Yan carefully looked at me a few times, his expression evasive – just like how he was at Bar L, when I asked him exactly if he had been at the bar on that rainy day. I couldn’t resist laughing.

MC: Are you afraid that I’ll ask you about… if you were at the bar that rainy day?

MC: Alright, I won’t ask anymore.

Xia Yan: …

Xia Yan froze for a few seconds.

Xia Yan: Weren’t you really curious before…

MC: I’m still pretty curious now. But…

I looked towards Xia Yan and smiled.

MC: Everyone has matters that they don’t want to tell others.

MC: This is especially so after we grow up.

The closer people are, the harder it is to talk about certain matters, so a lot of people choose to go to bars to talk to strangers. Though in the past, Xia Yan and I were always so familiar that we were like a single person without any secrets between us, we’ve now grown up. After growing up, there will be boundaries. Forcing him to tell me his thoughts and forcing him to accept my help were also a sort of wrong. If I were to question him in the pestering way like when we were little, it would be a severely EQ-lacking action. 

MC: …

MC: I’m sorry. Earlier at Bar L, I even questioned you…

MC: I didn’t realize at that time…

Before, Xia Yan urged me to not join NXX, but after I made my determination known, he respected my decision. This time as well – he clearly would have been fine on his own, but he considered my thoughts and let me help out. Xia Yan has always considered me, and has always respected my decisions. I’m all too clear on this mindset of his. 

So, even if he had some things that he didn’t want to tell me, what’s the big deal? 

Though it was just like before – as long as I kept trying, Xia Yan would not reject me – the more it was like this, the more I had to have a sense of measure. Otherwise, I’d put him in a difficult position.

MC: In the future, for anything that isn’t easy for you to talk about, I –

Xia Yan: It’s not like that!

Xia Yan suddenly grabbed onto my hand, holding it with force, his hands grasping my knuckles. 

Xia Yan: There’s nothing that’s inconvenient for you to ask.

Xia Yan: Whether it’s the whiskey matter, or the rainy day matter – you can ask about anything you want to know about.

Xia Yan: None of my matters are inconvenient for you to ask about.

Xia Yan: There is no boundary between us.

MC: Xia Yan…

Suddenly, he seemed to have become aware that he was holding my hand with too much force, and hurriedly released it.

Xia Yan: Sorry, I held your hand with too much force… I probably hurt you.

Xia Yan looked at me, his gaze trembling slightly.

He went silent for several seconds, and finally, slowly opened his mouth.

Xia Yan: I…

Xia Yan: I just… was embarrassed to tell you…

Xia Yan: I didn’t want to let you know… that I once wanted to avoid you.

MC: Avoid me?

Xia Yan: …

Xia Yan: I was afraid that I would bring… trouble to you.

Xia Yan looked at me, his eyes full of guilt and unease.

MC: Was it because of the NXX issue? At that time, you had already started investigating related events yourself, right?

MC: Were you afraid that meeting me would get me involved in danger?

Xia Yan didn’t respond, like he was agreeing silently.

I tugged on Xia Yan’s arm, having him face me wholly. 

MC: What relation do we have between us?

MC: Even if there’s danger, I want to face it with you.

MC: If on some day in the future, you truly encounter a hard problem that I can’t accompany you in facing, then I’ll wait for you to return.

MC: Remember this well – everything about you isn’t trouble to me. It all has extraordinary significance!

Xia Yan: …

As we spoke, snowflakes like little diamonds fell down from the sky, one landing precisely on Xia Yan’s eyelash. His pupil seemed to flicker with a small light.

Xia Yan: Mm, I’ll remember it.

MC: You also have to remember that, compared to trouble, compared to danger, compared to anything else, what I fear more is that you… won’t be here.

MC: Where you are by yourself, if you’re living alright, if there are things upsetting you, if there are people who can share your burdens… I’ll be very worried…

MC: So you must promise me, from now and in the future, you can’t think about escaping from me again. 

I looked firmly at Xia Yan, putting on an imposing manner like if I didn’t hear a definite answer, I would swear to not give up. Xia Yan looked at me and laughed lightly.

Xia Yan: I swear, now and in the future, I will never think about escaping from you again.

Xia Yan: I will do all I can to always, always accompany you.

Xia Yan spoke unusually solemnly – even more solemnly than I had expected. His clear eyes reflected the fluttering snowflakes.

MC: …

MC: That’s right!

MC: In the future, even if you want to escape to the ends of the world, I’ll still drag you back!

Xia Yan: Yep, I have no doubts about that!

Bong bong bong –

The bell from the clock striking zero-o’clock sounded. Innumerable brightly-colored fireworks lit up the faraway night sky for a while.

MC: It’s zero-o’clock!

Xia Yan: I’m sorry – blame me for taking up time.

Looking somewhat upset, Xia Yan looked at the fireworks in the faraway night sky.

Xia Yan: What do you want to do now? There should still be some final New Year’s Eve activities going on at Uncle Chen’s place, although it’ll take some time for us to rush there.

Xia Yan: Or we could go to the center plaza to look at the fireworks show? It’ll be closer that way.

MC: Mm… forget it, I don’t want to go to either place now.

MC: I feel like it would be pretty nice if we passed New Year’s Eve here. 

Innumerable fireworks in the distance soared up, then fell down. Xia Yan’s and my spot definitely could not be considered a suitable viewing location, but I felt extremely happy. Compared to how you pass New Year’s Eve, what’s more important is who you spend New Year’s Eve with. At this moment, I really just wanted to stay like this with only Xia Yan for a little while longer.

MC: Xia Yan, how about we just slowly walk a bit back to Uncle Chen’s place?

Xia Yan: Sure. Here, give me your hand.  

Xia Yan held my hand in his, putting them together into his coat pocket. Just like it had been every winter, his palms have always been so warm – holding his hand was like holding a little sun. 

Xia Yan: Alright, Xia Yan-brand hand warmers have turned on!

Xia Yan: Now we can go.

MC: Wait a bit, Xia Yan.

I haven’t said my New Year’s blessings to Xia Yan yet.

> Happy New Year! May you be happy every day. > May everything go your way and you accomplish everything you set your heart to.

MC: Xia Yan! Happy New Year! For this new year, may you be happy every day!

Xia Yan: With your blessings, I’m sure that I’ll be happy every day for this year.

Xia Yan: You too – Happy New Year. May you be happy every day.

MC: With a Xia Yan-brand little sun, is it even possible for me to be unhappy?

Xia Yan: You’re absolutely correct! I’ll definitely ensure that you are completely happy every day!

> Happy New Year! May you be happy every day. > May everything go your way and you accomplish everything you set your heart to.

MC: Xia Yan! For this new year, may everything go your way and you accomplish everything you set your heart to!

Xia Yan: I’ve already accomplished what I’ve set my heart to. 

MC: Huh?

Xia Yan: You too - for this new year, may everything go your way and you accomplish everything you set your heart to.

PART 6

Bar L

Xia Yan and I returned to Bar L. Xia Yan said he had to do some cleanup on the video, so he had me wait a bit at the bar counter. Not long after, I heard the sound of familiar footsteps behind me.

MC: You were pretty… fast?

I angled my head around, seeing Xia Yan, now in full bartender attire.

MC: Xia Yan, this is?

Xia Yan: Several months ago, I disappointed a certain very important guest because of my error.

Xia Yan: So I made a request of Uncle Chen just now…

Xia Yan: To let me become that guest’s exclusive bartender tonight to properly make it up to her.

Xia Yan: Alright, young lady, what would you like to drink?

MC: For this, I’ll have to think carefully about it!

I pondered for a moment.

MC: I heard earlier from the owner of this place that you have a liquor that very much suits you.

MC: I’d also like to request this handsome bartender to prepare a cocktail that suits me best!

Xia Yan: It’s a task with some difficulty.

Xia Yan: But as your exclusive bartender, I will definitely satisfy you.

Xia Yan: Please wait a moment.

Xia Yan placed a cocktail glass in front of me, then took a bottle of wine from the wine shelf. 

Xia Yan: First, pour the chocolate liqueur into the wineglass.

Xia Yan: Then, gently float a layer of fresh cream on top of the liqueur.

Following the back of the spoon, the fresh cream slowly infused itself in the glass’s contents. Right after, Xia Yan stuck a cocktail pin through a dark red cherry, stacking it on the glass rim.

Xia Yan: Angel’s Kiss – please try it.

MC: What a romantic name – why is it called that? Is it because the cherry is like a pair of lips?

Xia Yan: There’s another important reason.

Xia Yan: Young lady, please take the cocktail pin and soak the cherry into the liqueur, then gently take it out.

Complying with his words, I dipped the cherry into the liqueur, then took it out. The cocktail stirred up, and the fresh cream floated into swirls, like a small pair of lips.

Xia Yan: This is the Angel’s Kiss.

Xia Yan: It’s said that after drinking it, an angel will transfer your thoughts to the person you care about.

Xia Yan: I feel like this is the cocktail that suits you best.

Xia Yan’s voice became unusually gentle. 

MC: …

--

After finishing his work, Xia Yan went into the bar’s inside room to change clothes. Completely concealed behind the door, Uncle Chen faced the girl waiting at beside the bar counter.

Uncle Chen: Angel’s Kiss – just like Cupid’s arrow, shot into the hearts of lovers.

Uncle Chen looked at Xia Yan, smiling meaningfully. 

Uncle Chen: On an important day, if you drink a glass of Angel’s Kiss, the god of love will definitely transmit your feelings to the person you yearn for day and night.

Uncle Chen: It really is a drink that’s extremely well suited for her.

Xia Yan: …

Uncle Chen: I’ve been thinking all day about the conditions that she came in for the first time, at the beginning of the year. 

--

[Flashback]

The beginning of the year…

The noisy sounds of rain were shut outside by the heavy oak door. When guests pushed open the door to come in, the clamminess of water vapor blew in.

Uncle Chen: There are quite a lot of guests on rainy days. You’ve really worked hard.

Xia Yan: You’re looking at this as an outsider – I don’t feel like I’ve worked hard at all.

As they spoke, the oak door was opened again.

Xia Yan: There’s another guest coming –

Xia Yan: …!

It was [MC]. Even if they were separated by a room full of guests, even if it was just a back view, he could still recognize that figure easily.

Uncle Chen: What’s wrong, Little Xia? Do you know that girl?

Xia Yan’s mouth lightly trembled, out of his control.

Xia Yan: I’m sorry, Uncle Chen…

Xia Yan: Can I trouble you to serve this guest…

Xia Yan hastily left the bar counter.

Uncle Chen: …

Uncle Chen looked deeply at the girl by the door. She had just closed the door and was turning around, walking to the bar counter.

After closing that day, Xia Yan carried out closing tasks in behind the bar counter. After everything was properly tidied up, he slowly sat down behind the bar counter, looking at that empty seat in front of him.

Xia Yan: …

Hearing footsteps behind him, Xia Yan swiftly stood up.

Xia Yan: Uncle Chen, I’ve completely tidied up this area. If there’s nothing else, then I’ll leave first. 

Uncle Chen: Wait a bit, Little Xia.

Uncle Chen called out to Xia Yan and held up the whiskey in his hand.

Uncle Chen: If you don’t have anything to deal with for the next while, how about accompanying me in drinking a glass?

Uncle Chen: I’d like to invite you to help me try this bottle of alcohol.

Uncle Chen poured the whiskey into two glasses, then handed a glass to Xia Yan. Xia Yan took a light sip.

Xia Yan: The taste is very good, and the texture is extremely gentle.  

After hearing this, Uncle Chen smiled.

Uncle Chen: Every time I drink it, I’ll think about the taste that this batch of whiskey had right after brewing.

Uncle Chen: It was completely different from now. Its texture was very spicy, its aroma was average – it could be considered a complete failure.

Uncle Chen: I didn’t think that after some time, the taste would become good. 

Uncle Chen: So, if a matter hasn’t reached an end, one cannot give up, because the possibility of unexpected opportunities will always exist.

Xia Yan: …

Uncle Chen gave a wooden box to Xia Yan.

Uncle Chen: Wine and life are both like this.

[Flashback end]

--

Uncle Chen faced the girl at the bar counter, then turned his gaze back to Xia Yan.

Uncle Chen: There’s actually another saying about whiskey.

Xia Yan: You really have a lot of sayings for your alcohol.

Uncle Chen: Even if it’s the same kind of wine, it will have different meanings to different guests.

Uncle Chen: Someone who can deliver drinks to guests that are most suited for them is qualified to be a bartender.

Xia Yan: Then what do you want to say this time?

Uncle Chen: Hemingway once said: “There are two matters that you must absolutely not hesitate about. You must do them immediately.”

Uncle Chen: “Kiss a beautiful girl, or open a bottle of whiskey.”

Xia Yan: … Thank you.

Xia Yan tilted his head towards the person who was waiting for him at the bar counter. She was freely looking over the various kinds of alcohol behind the counter with interest.

Xia Yan: I need to wait a bit longer to open that whiskey bottle.

Xia Yan: I’ll wait until there are no impurities at all. I’ll wait until the day when I truly have no secrets from her. 

Xia Yan: At that time, I will open it without hesitation. 

-END-

[like-romeoandjuliet-love]

Would love a fluffy Bughead fic where Gladys takes Jug to Toledo but he and JB come back after she gets arrested, just in time to find Betty in need a junio prom date so she's not the third wheel to Varchie...

Hi! Thank you for this! Hope I did it justice!

•

Being back in Riverdale feels freeing in a way. When they first left for Toledo, Jughead admits he felt like he was escaping. Escaping his father and a life that wasn’t at all what he wanted for his sister. Jellybean couldn’t grow up like he did, even at fourteen, he’d lived through things that he wouldn’t wish on anyone, things no one should ever have to deal with at such a young age. An alcoholic father who could get violent, whose loud voice was forever stuck in his mind.

His mother had packed up their things when FP was passed out on the couch, a bottle of whiskey empty on the floor. He remembers being woken up and ushered out the door and into the car. He remembers how quiet leaving was. It’s not as though he was expecting anything, it felt, though, calmer than he’d ever realized it could be. But Gladys, despite getting them out, was still Gladys. And Gladys was complicated. Nothing she did was really within the confinement of the law. Jughead realized that too soon. He didn’t want Jellybean to notice it, to be in the midst of it, but all of it was too late. He’d confronted the fact that he needed an out when he found out she’d been dealing drugs. He couldn’t possibly let Jellybean anywhere near that.

The call comes through and Jughead makes a split second decision based on a weak reassurance.

“I’m sober. I’ve been sober since you left. I go to meetings. I have an apartment. Come home.”

He doesn’t leave in the middle of the night. He sits Gladys down and tells her. What hurts the most is the understanding look on her face and how she lets them go without a fight. Somehow that’s worse than anything she could ever do.

Jellybean is fine with it. She hates Toledo.

FP picks them up at the station and he looks healthy. Jughead tries not to get his hopes up. Turns out he can.

“Jughead?”

The sweet voice that calls him out as he sits in a booth at Pop’s belongs to one Betty Cooper. His childhood crush. One third of the now dismembered three musketeers. The first friend he’d ever made.

“Hey, Betty.” He greets awkwardly.

“You’re here. You’re back.” She smiles her infamous smile and he feels himself under her spell in a second.

“Yeah, I...yeah.” He mumbles lamely, cursing himself the whole time.

“Come on, sit!” She gestures you the seat in front of her and he sits. “How are you? Are you coming to Riverdale High?”

He clears his throat, a little intimidated by having her full attention on him. “I am, yeah.”

Her eyes light up and she smiles. “That’s great, Jughead. That’s really great. How have you been?”

He shrugs. How do you phrase it? I left because of my drunk father but it turns out being out wasn’t as good because my mother sells drugs so now I’m back here to my alcoholic father because he’s sober?

“Good.” He decides to say. “How are you, Betty?”

Her smile seems to falter a tiny bit. “I’m great. Had that internship. It went great. I met Toni Morrison last summer.”

“Oh? Really? That’s great, Betty! I know how much you love her!” He smiles and Betty’s mood seems to shift as she launches into the story of how she met her favorite writer. Jughead is reminded why he pined after her for most of his childhood.

He tries to steer the conversation away from himself. It’s not as though he doesn’t want to tell her everything. He’s just not ready for all of that, things changed. They’re not kids anymore, they’re now in that weird phase where they used to be best friends but after this long, it’s not the same. He missed her but he’s embarrassed by his own life.

And then Betty’s phone rings. He hears the shrill of Alice Cooper’s voice on the other side of the line, notes how Betty’s demeanor changes as she tells him she needs to go home. She smiles at him one more time before leaving. And he saves that moment in the back of his mind.

•

“Prom is in a week, B! You have to get a date!” Veronica tells her best friend. They’re all sitting together during free period. It had been two days since he began attending Riverdale High.

Jughead is confused by Veronica’s whole being, if he’s honest. He doesn’t really understand why she wears pearls to school or heels or why she dresses like she’s some top notch CEO with an assistant following her around. Maybe it’s just his absolute inadequacy when in dealing with privileged people or maybe it’s just really that odd. But Betty loves her and Archie’s in love with her. So he doesn’t say anything. His sardonic humor might pop out at some point but he’ll save it for now.

“V, there’s still time.” Betty laughs. “And it’s fine if no one asks me, I’m totally fine with not having a date. 21st century independence and all that.”

Veronica rolls her eyes. “I refuse that idea for prom. A girl deserves a date.” The dark haired girl argues. And then the worst possible thing happens, Veronica snaps her head towards him with laser focus as he sits beside Betty, munching on his chips. “Jughead, why don’t you ask her out?”

He chokes on his chips, coughing miserably.

“Veronica! Stop that!” Betty’s eyes widen. And Jughead can’t help but feel his heart ache a little. Was the thought of going to prom with him that insane? “Jughead, it’s fine.”

The bell rings, he’s left with a bitter taste in his mouth.

•

Archie and Veronica are admittedly, from where he’s standing an annoying couple. They love each other alright but it’s the way in which they display it that kind of makes Jughead want to gag. Archie follows her around like a love sick puppy and the way Veronica calls him ‘Archiekins’ makes him want to bury himself six feet under. They’re apparently, as Veronica and Kevin had put it, Endgame. It’s all a very confusing event, especially considering the fact that Betty had a very obvious crush on Archie when he left.

Still, Betty sends him amused looks when his expressions can’t be hidden within Varchie’s vicinity, so he tries to hide it even less now that he’s noticed it makes her smile.

He walks her home everyday. And it’s easy to be back to being friends with her. It’s not like being friends with Archie. Him and Archie had grown apart a bit, different interests, and he will only say that to himself, but seriously different IQs (he loves his ginger friend but there’s no way he can lie about that). But being friends with Betty means real meaningful conversations, it means a hundred million topics as long as they keep going.

“Can I ask a question?” She looks at him, as they walk and nods. “When I left, you had a pretty obvious crush on Archie, so what happened there?”

Betty lets out a laugh. “I never had a crush on Archie.”

“You didn’t?” His eyes widen at this new bit of information.

“I mean when I was like seven, probably, but by the time you left, that was long gone.”

He’s truly flabbergasted at this new piece of information. “So, nothing on the romantic horizon?”

“Mmmh, I don’t think so.”

“How in the world has no one asked you out?” He blurts out incredulously.

Betty blushes. Had he made her blush? “Maybe I’m too boring for everyone. Next to girls like Cheryl and V, it’s easy to bypass me.” She brushes it off and he hates that.

“No fucking way.” He shakes his head, the way he says it coming out like he truly doesn’t believe anyone could ever find Betty Cooper boring. “Betty, you’re fucking incredible! You could never be boring. It’s you!”

“Jug...” She chuckles just as they stand in front of her house. She turns to face him. “You’re sweet, you know? Beneath all that broody exterior of yours.”

“Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain.” He jokes and she laughs, her beautiful face lighting up. His crush on her doubles up. “Whoever dates you, will be the luckiest guy in the world, Betty.”

“Yeah?”

He nods. “For sure.”

•

It’s a day before prom when Veronica Lodge corners him, in the Blue and Gold, bursting through the door.

“Why haven’t you asked her out?” She asks pointedly and once again, he’s so confused by her. “Betty, Forsythe!”

“How the hell do you know my real name?”

“Archie, obviously, but that is besides the point. You need to ask Betty to prom.”

He scoffs. “Veronica, no offense, but why would I do that?”

“Because she can’t be our third wheel!”

“Why would she be your third wheel?”

“Because she doesn’t have a date. And also, you need to ask her, because she wants you to.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, right.”

“She does. It’s very clear that she does.” Veronica tells him firmly.

“I’ve been back for a week.”

“Your point?” Veronica furrows her brows. “You know, between the pictures of you I saw from before and now. You had a glow up, Jones.” Again, complete utter confusion. “So it’s very clear that Betty is not only crushing on your brain, she’s also crushing on your physique. And she probably had a crush on you before, but I can’t get it out of her.”

He gulps, feeling like the wind was knocked off his lungs. “What?”

“And you are adorably pining after her. Probably have for a while, right?” She smirks. “Just ask her out, will you? End everyone’s suffering. The longing gaze on both your faces is painful.”

Turns out that he doesn’t have to ask her because Betty one ups him. He’s walking her home as always, he’s babbling on and on about a book he’s reading, she’s listening intently as usual, a smile on her face. When the conversation dies out, he feels her fingers softly brush against his, between them. He’s dreaming, he has to be dreaming. Betty doesn’t wait, she takes his hand, interlocking their fingers together. And holy shit, had Veronica been right?

“Betts.” He chokes out.

“Yeah?” The words seem stuck in his throat, unwilling to come out, so she stops them, turns towards him and smiles, taking care of it herself. Her hand is still gripping his so he’s sure it wasn’t a mistake. “Go to prom with me.”

“What?” He breathes out. “Betty, what?”

“Prom, Jug. I’m asking you to prom. I was waiting for you to ask me but I thought, screw it, might as well as you.”

“Are you serious?” He asks in disbelief. “Like, for real, not in a ‘let’s go as friend’ way?”

She pauses, smiling. “For real. So, is that a yes or do I have to suffer for longer?”

He laughs. “Yes, yes, it’s a yes.”

“Great. Pick me up at seven tomorrow.” She pecks his cheek and leaves him with a dumb grin on his face in the middle of the street.

What had just happened?

•

He picks her up, in the only suit he owns. She looks breathtaking. He’s pretty sure his heart might jump out of his chest when Alice waits with him in the living room. Alice is still as terrible as he remembers and he wonders how in the world Betty turned out the way she did. But Betty’s beautiful and she’s his date and when she climbs down the stairs, he’s sure he’ll remember the image forever.

“You look beautiful, Betts.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Juggie.”

She drives them to prom. He doesn’t have a car but he likes watching her do the most mundane things in the world, even driving so he doesn’t feel bad about it. Instead, he feels like this is the best night of his life. Because Betty Cooper is holding his hand, he keeps a hand around her shoulder as they walk around talking to people. She kisses his cheek whenever she feels like it and she holds him against her.

The first time he kisses her is the the most cliched thing he’s ever done in his life. They’re dancing, his hands on her hips, her hand around his neck. She has the most beautiful smile on her lips. ‘Work Song’ by Hozier, he later learns, is playing in the background and it’s the happiest he’s ever felt.

“I really like you, Betty.” He murmurs in her ear, his cheek against the side of her head.

She leans back to look at him. “I’ve liked you since we were twelve.”

He laughs. “That’s oddly specific.”

“It was when you put your beanie on me when I was sad because my mom yelled at me.” Her hand reaches up to run a finger across the fabric on his head.

“When you kicked Reggie in second grade because he pushed me.”

“Yeah?”

He nods. “My little seven year old self was ruined after that.”

There’s a beat and she’s just looking at him and he wants her to look at him like that forever. He wants to freeze this moment forever. As her hand moves to caress his face, he almost melts into it. Hand warm against his cheek, it’s like every dream come true. They both lean in, lips brushing tentatively at first, as he draws her nearer, arms wrapping around her. Her lips taste like strawberry and they’re soft against his. And he’s falling in love with her. He wonders when he’ll stop falling.

When they pull back because their lungs demand it, she laughs, forehead against his.

She still laughs the same way, when he kisses her again, with the same song playing, on their wedding day.

[olicitytropes]

Olicity Tropetastic Awards: Fandom Writers

And with this post, we’re at our final rec list for this year’s Tropetastic Awards! Thank you everyone for helping us make it through this hiatus! (instant tears)

We can’t express how much we love Olicity, this fandom, and every writer who shares their stories with us. We wish we could buy you all some real trophies (or give you a really good hug) for the time and effort you’ve poured into your fics! There are just so many talented writers that we’ve talked about and fangirled over. Hopefully through this process, we’ve been able to shine some light on all of that talent. And we hope that everyone in this fandom can appreciate and respect it as much as we do! We could’ve made this post go on forever, so all of the kudos to all of you<3

As fans, we’ve followed Arrow for seven seasons, and we’ve found so many fanfics along the way that touched us and pulled at our heart strings as much as (sometimes more than) canon. It’s hard to put into words how much that means to us, but we had to try;) Here are some writers who we want to thank. And of course, they’re only the tip of the iceberg on this giant, powerful fandom.

We will always, always, always love you. 

@smoaking-greenarrow’s recs:

** @supersillyanddorky06 **

Strangers in the Night

The Firebird

The Predator

The Phoenix & The Phoenix Rises

Award: The Alternate Universe Specialist

Kudos: I’ve been so happy to let @supersillyanddorky06’s worlds distract me from real life when I needed it. The Firebird was my study-break savior in college when I needed to step out of reality and stop stressing over finals. Devouring The Phoenix and The Phoenix Rises kept me up way too late reading and made me way too tired for work the next morning, but it was so worth it! There are infinite things to love about Olicity, and infinite things to love about this talented writer. Matty, I know I can speak for more than just myself when I say that your stories mean a lot to this fandom. You’re already one of my favorite authors, but I can’t wait to read The Predator as a novel. And watch it captivate the rest of the world like it did for Olicity fans. Arrow captured lightning in a bottle when they got Stephen and Emily on screen together, and I think the same thing happened when you watched the show, fell in love with Olicity, and decided to write fanfic for them. I’m beyond excited to see what you do next, and low-key telling myself that I basically got to read a first draft of The Predator before it becomes a bestseller ;)

Bonus Kudos: MY QUEEN. Sending you all the love for the hours I’ve spent with your amazing fics! Finding an email notification that The Predator had updated always made me squeal out loud! Thanks forever for that! -Meegan (@it-was-a-red-heeler)

** @it-was-a-red-heeler **

Lost and Found

A Dance with the Devil

Desperation Club

Deep Water

Award: The Storyline Mastermind

Kudos: I know that when I start one of Meegan’s fics, it’s going to be satisfying from start to finish. I first read Lost and Found, and I was so impressed with it that I had to write this little fic review. Everything that I read of hers after that was just as wild and just as incredible. She’s a genius at pacing, building tension, and plot twists. Meegan, I’m so happy I’ve had the chance to read your dreamy and steamy versions of Olicity. And I’m even happier that we’ve had the chance to get to know each other because of this fandom. Be my friend and stay forever, K?

** @tangled23works **

Like A River

Whatever It Takes

Nothing Short of Perfect

My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark

Broken Bones and Porcelain Dolls

Award: The Hook, Line and Sinker

Kudos: Sascha writes the kind of fics that I don’t want to put down. She’s insanely good at picking up her story in the perfect place, one that keeps me hooked and wanting to read more (and since those important first words are something I often struggle with, I’m so envious of her for that;)). All of the kudos to you my friend, for your out of the box thinking! Sascha, I’m so happy that you share your writing with all of us, and just your presence in this fandom in general is amazing. I can’t even tell you how many times you’ve brightened my day! Thank you for being the talented writer and awesome person that you are!

** @mindramblingsfics **

Forget Me Not

Will Fate Allow?

Summer Flame

Was It Ever Real?

Award: The Creative Trailblazer

Kudos: @mindramblingsfics I have so many praises to sing for you, but most of all I just think you’re insanely cool. The way you craft your fics is so unique and clever. You take us on a journey with everything you write. You take all of our favorite tropes and spin them on their heads in ways I’ve never seen before. I’ve never read a summary or teaser of yours that didn’t make me excited to read the story, and those stories are always better than I imagined. Thank you for all of your special fics, and all of your hard work. We all appreciate it so much!

Bonus Kudos: Oh my goodness. This amazing writer. I cannot even begin to thank you for your incredible works! They always leave me wanting more. Summer Flame is one of my Top 5 favorite fics of all time! Along with Whiskey and Romance too! From the bottom of my heart, thank you for writing such wonderful fics! -Caitlin (@blondeeoneexox)

** @felicityollies **

Vampire and the Geek

Secrets Don’t Make Friends

Trust Me

Doppelgänger

Award: The Jack of All Trades

Kudos: I dare you all to try to find a fic from Bev that doesn’t give you everything you’re looking for. This writer can do it all, and it’s amazing. I promise you’ll be impressed by every world you jump into and you’ll fall in love with every version of Olicity that you read. Bev, I’m blown away by every story of yours, you never disappoint, and I can’t wait to read more! Thank you for everything you’ve given this fandom!

@blondeeoneexox’s recs:

** @smoaking-greenarrow **

The Hardest Part

Mine at Midnight

Just Beneath the Surface

Come Back When You Can

My Favorite Faded Fantasy

Kerosene and Desire

Award: Queen of Olicity Happy Endings

Kudos: Okay, y’all are going to have to forgive me cause this is about to get really sappy and kinda personal. @smoaking-greenarrow’s fics were the first I read after joining this wonderful fandom. I was so in awe of her talent and how she could make you feel like you were really inside the fic. How she could make me laugh, cry, and really bring out the sap in me. I wanted to talk to her and rave to her about how amazing she is, but I didn’t want to be THAT person, you know? 😂 Then one day SHE messaged ME about something totally different (😉) and I was SO excited! I actually got to tell her how incredible her fics were without seeming like a crazy person, hahaha. Now, she’s my best friend in this fandom and I am SO beyond lucky to have her. Thank you for not thinking I was some random, psycho fan girl, E. I am so thankful for you and for your absolutely phenomenal writing. If you haven’t read her fics, please do yourself a favor and go do it right now! I’d start with Mine at Midnight and work down the list. You won’t regret it. 😘

Bonus Kudos: Ellie, what can I say? Besides your unsolicited review of my little fic that launched me under the fandom’s nose (forever grateful for that, my friend) your fics are beyond amazing! So many great stories to choose from, all of them a world I can fall into with my favorite couple. Love ya! -Meegan (@it-was-a-red-heeler)

** CSM **

Lucas’ Adventures

Impeccable Genetics

A Future Worth Fighting For

Almost, But Not Yet

Award: Queen of Time Travel Fics

Kudos: Oh my goodness. Nikki! I am COMPLETELY OBSESSED with her time traveling kid fics. From Ellie to Mia to Lucas, it doesn’t get any better. She puts wit, charm, sass and hilarity into every single one of her amazing works. I am currently obsessed with Lucas’ Adventures (updated every Sunday in case y’all wanna start 😉), where a sweet 10 month old Lucas shows up and completely disrupts S2 Oliver and Felicity’s lives! If you haven’t read it, I highly recommend along with every other one of her kid fics. She is an absolutely incredible writer, I’m so happy to know her and love her works!

Bonus Kudos: Nikki, Lucas’ Adventures is exactly what I need and want to be reading in this trying time. While Arrow and season 8 look very daunting and sad right now, this fic has been so much fun to read. Can’t wait to see what you do next, and thank you! -Ellie (@smoaking-greenarrow)

** @alexiablackbriar13 **

little wonders (twists and turns of fate)

whenever you’re ready 

#olicity lives!

two pints of mint chip it’s a girl 

Award: Queen of Canon Divergence

Kudos: Oh boy. @alexiablackbriar13. Where do I even begin? I’m sure as all of you know, she is a PHENOMENAL writer! From little wonders to all of her amazing one shots, I’m forever in awe of her writing! I think my absolute favorite though would have to be little wonders, because OBVIOUSLY. She took canon and transformed it into something the Arrow writers couldn’t DREAM of doing. I remember when she posted the teaser of this story. I knew it was going to be one of a kind, and it did not disappoint! GO READ IT IF YOU HAVEN’T, YOU ARE MISSING OUT. 😍 and I can’t forget my other favorite, whenever you’re ready. I remember reading this and SOBBING. Mia and Lucas travel back to 2019 and meet their parents. It’s a fic that should be read by all. You’re sensational, Lexi. This fandom is so lucky to have you!

** @dust2dust34 **

Four Walls (Of Law Firms and Honey)

Forever is Composed of Nows

Wanna Be Yours

(i will be the fire) that keeps you warm

Award: The Fandom’s Real MVP of Smut

Kudos: BRE. Okaaay, I don’t think this writer needs any introducing. I mean, one of the masterminds of the perfection that is FICON? Come ON. What you have given this fandom is more than I could put into words. From your oneshots to your sultry, smutty, smut fics, to the beautiful multi-chapters you’ve created, your writing is unparalleled. I, on behalf of the fandom, want to thank you for all of your masterpieces! They are truly incredible and we are so lucky to have you!

Bonus Kudos : Bre, I will forever be grateful to the time you have spent writing Olicity fics and obsessing over Felicity Smoak and Oliver Queen. Through the years you have become a master of your craft and I honestly can’t wait for your next story. Thank you for everything. -Sascha (@tangled23works)

@allimariexf’s recs:

** @MachaSWicket **

Deceive, Inveigle, and Obfuscate

And Then It Ends, Your Little Winning Streak

Long Time Coming

The Unbearable Hotness of Being

Va Banque

Award: Master of the Essence of Olicity

Kudos: How can I possibly summarize why Macha’s works are so special? She writes with a perfect blend of compelling plot, moving emotional development, and effortlessly beautiful prose. She writes characters that jump off the page, so that we hurt and rejoice and lust with them. She adds elements of surprise and delight to even the most well-worn tropes, infusing them with the essence of Olicity. Her canon-related and AU stories always feel like just another (and in many cases, better) path that Oliver and Felicity could have taken. Every word she writes is a treat, every story is a gift to the fandom. I know this sounds effusive but it’s barely scratching the surface of how amazing her works are! I have definitely laughed, cried, and everything in between while reading (and re-reading...and re-re-reading, etc.) her stories. (Okay also I already listed 5 of her stories, but I also have to mention two more: the utterly delightful AU WIP Our Version of Events (co-written with geneeste), and fandom-favorite Little Black Dresses and King-Sized Messes.)

** @anthfan **

Devil’s Backbone

Tropes

Times like these

Tell me a story

Dust to Dust

Above and Beyond 

Award: Queen of Canon-related Tropes to end all Tropes

Kudos: anthfan’s stories were some of the first I read in this fandom, and WOW what a high bar she set. Those of you who know me know that I tend to prefer canon-related stories to AUs (well okay, more recently I have begun to love AUs too, but canon-related will ALWAYS own me), and anthfan just hits that pitch-perfect spot of great storytelling - intriguing twists, heartfelt scenes, perfect characterization, and ANGST - OH, THE ANGST - while still remaining in that familiar Arrow universe we all know and love. And nowhere does she shine as well as when she’s taking well-known tropes and giving them a uniquely Olicity twist. Devil’s Backbone remains my favorite Olicity fic of all time (probably!), but truthfully I wish I could read every one of these stories over and over again for the first time.

Bonus Kudos: I thought the first chapter of Dust to Dust would actually kill me, but it proved itself to be clever and badass and witty and FUN! As far as Devil’s Backbone goes, I watch Season Three now and just assume all the stuff from the fic is going on after hours (headcanon accepted)—one of my all-time favorite stories! -Meegan ( @it-was-a-red-heeler)

** @mogirl97 **

Crazy for You 

Along The Way

Sportsmanlike Conduct 

The Offer

It Takes Two

Award: Master of Swoony, Romantic AUs

Kudos: So I mentioned above that I only recently (in the past year or so) really got into AUs, and mogirl97 offered a crash course that I couldn’t resist! I started with Along the Way and I was HOOKED, quickly gobbling up everything else she wrote, and it was all equally swoon-worthy. She has a way of making you absolutely fall in love with each of her universes, and every time a story comes to an end I never want to let it go. Sweet, soft, longing, gently angsty - those words can describe basically all of her stories. And romantic. So, soooo romantic!

 ** bri617 **

Across The Highs, The Lows, And The In-Betweens

Did It Hurt When You Fell From Heaven?

Without You (I’m Incomplete)

You Were Mine (Just For One Night)

Freeze Frame, Pause, Rewind, Stop

Award: Queen of Fluffy AUs

Kudos: bri617 is just a master of FUN. Fluffy, fluffy, soft, delightful FUN! She has cornered the market on college AUs, but basically everything she writes captures that perfect blend of flirty, simmering, quirky, playful, slightly-awkward, mutual heart-eyes Olicity that we all crave. In every one of her stories, I fall in love with Oliver and Felicity and Olicity all over again, and laugh my ass off while doing it.

@tangled23works’ recs:

** @someonesaidcake **

Ride or Die

ONE (Oliver The Footballer)

Truly, Madly, Stupidly

Award: Queen of Emotional Impact

Kudos: I’ve been trying to find a way to explain how I feel when I read @someonesaidcake’s fics and I keep failing. The best way to understand what I’m talking about would be to start reading them yourself, if you haven’t already. These stories are powerful enough that they’re gonna make you cry, smile and wish you could experience such a unique, powerful love story in real life. The fandom was truly blessed when this amazingly talented author decided to write Olicity fics.

** @olicityaddicted **

Never Tear Us Apart 

One More Chance 

And She Will Be Loved

Award: Queen of Heartfelt And Comforting Romance

Kudos: I chose @olicityaddicted for my second award because, to be honest, she deserves to be far more appreciated than she is. Her stories provide a safe refuge for me, a place where I can relax and forget about real life for a while. Her brilliance lies in simplicity; her fics will not punch you in the gut but make you feel like you’re cocooned in gentle warmth and Olicity love.

** @bindy417 **

Caught in the Rapture

Arrows & Airwaves

Bound to You

Award: Queen of Page-Turners

Kudos: @bindy417’s complex and beautifully drafted stories are one of the reasons I enjoy reading Olicity fics so much. She has written one of my all-time favorite Al Sah-him fics. I made the mistake of reading it on a bus once and missed my stop. Seriously, there are published books which are less well-thought-out and more predictable. Brittany’s works are imaginative, compelling and addictive. She deserves ALL the awards.

Bonus Kudos: Okay, okay. I’m kind of mad at myself for not choosing Brittany because she has written some of the most BEAUTIFUL multi chapters in this fandom. Bound to You. Caught in the Rapture. I have read those two fics I cannot tell you how many times! I’m completely obsessed. I bow down to you, lady! You and your stories are so amazing! -Caitlin (@blondeeoneexox)

@msbeccieboo’s recs:

** @so-caffeinated **

Forever Is Composed Of Nows series

Stop the Presses series

Award: Favourite Universe-Creator

Kudos: I adore an extended AU universe, and (together with the amazing Bre, of course) Janis has created one of my absolute favourites, the “Forever Is Composed Of Nows (ficon)” ‘verse. What I love most about her writing is her ability to not only write beautifully for our known characters, but to create wonderful, captivating and just full original characters that we quickly fall in love with, and are immediately pulled into their world to experience with them. I now love and treasure characters like William, Amelia and Jules (my personal faves) as completely as I do Oliver or Felicity. I also love how much she interacts with her readers, constantly asking for ideas and feedback, answering asks and writing to prompts. Her storytelling is original and immersive, and I can’t wait to read her original works!!

** @smkkbert **

10 Rules of Rebounding

The Way You Make Me Feel (I Call it Love)

Time For a Story

If Loving You is Wrong (I Don’t Want to be Right)

Award: Most Diverse and Constantly Creating Writer

Kudos: Kathi has a huge range of any type of Olicity fic you can think of! LoA/Bratva/canon/AU/kid fic/high school/friends to lovers/season rewrites/missing scenes, there is something and everything for everyone! From one-shots to epic multi-chapters, as well as some of my favourite smut? YES PLEASE!! I am not ashamed to admit I have read some of her stories many, MANY times over!!

She has consistently posted fic after fic after fic, writing over 50 Olicity stories, with “Time For a Story” constantly updating alongside, and set to reach 500 chapters!! I love how she seems to be able to write Olicity in a million different ways/scenarios and still always pull me into their new world and fall in love with them over and over again. Superb, AND not in her first language either! Amazing!

** @realityisoverrated-fic **

Infinite Love series/universe (of which there are >200 one-shots/mullti-chapters)

Award: Smoaking Billionaires QUEEN (we all bow to her)

Kudos: You want Smoaking Billionaires? This should be your first port of call! But to imply she simply writes around one theme would be an epic disservice.  This series has everything, Olicity/Flommy/Toliver/SBs, fluff, family feels, kids, canon, canon divergence/swerve, action, humour, angst…oh the angst, oh, and a healthy dose of smut!

Her stories can be so deep, heart-breaking, raw and real-feeling in places, whilst also fluffy, hilarious, happy and contain some of the hottest smut ever!

** @allimariexf **

Not Your Typical Secretary series

Burning Souffles

Coming Home Again

A Dream That I Can Call My Own

Award: Queen of Canon/Canon-Divergence

Kudos: Alli has the gift of writing in canon, or slightly divergent, whilst still perfectly capturing the essence of Olicity and improving on the show’s writing, all whilst bringing the angst!! An absolutely beautiful writer, more beautiful human, and mah P.I.C.!! 😍

Bonus Kudos: Alli, I’m so happy that you share your fics with the fandom and that you created a whole channel for us to be as geeky and Olicity-obsessed as we like. Thank you for writing these stories (seriously, Succumbing to Shadows is a masterpiece), for organizing Arrow rewatches and for being a true friend. Even though there are hundreds of miles between us, I still feel that I know you and you should know that you can count on me. Always. -Sascha (@tangled23works)

** @stephswims **

One Step Ahead

That’s The Way It Is

Drunk Cuddly Oliver

Numb Lips

Award: Sweetest Little Smut Monster

Kudos: Steph has written some of my current favourite WIPs, and has a knack for writing badass AU Felicitys, in particular. She always manages to get the narrative voices of her characters juust right, which makes reading her stories all the more relatable!  Oh, and the smut is glorious hehehe!!!  My love and fandom sister wife! 😍

@it-was-a-red-heeler’s recs:

** @ruwithmeguys **

What Wouldn’t I Do

Indecent Proposal

Restless Heart

Award: The Queen of Nuance

Kudos: A sideways glance. The hitch of a breath. The babbling, breathless inner dialogue of a beautiful IT genius in love with a broody-but-lovable warrior. These are the elements of Olicity we all love so much, and Jessica’s magical talent as a writer. She makes you feel the angst and the love in her writing. Long after the story ends you’ll be thinking about her characterization. The tickle of a breath on the back of a neck...a heartbeat...a kiss...

** @missyriver **

Left to Fate

A Queen 

Award: Badass Olicity Queen

Kudos: The first time I read one of Missy’s fics I assumed she was a professional author; she’s just that good. Left to Fate is one of my all-time favorite re-reads, full of the perfect mix of angst, fluff, and smut. Yum yum! I’m so glad I found her works!

** @the-shy-and-anxious-fangirl **

Home to You

The Queen’s Mage

Award: Wise Beyond Her Years

Kudos: Y’all, read this author’s works and know that she is going places. I am continually amazed at the maturity of her writing and the depth of her understanding of the characters we all love so much. This is only the beginning for her and I’m so proud to call Arianna a friend!

** @callistawolf **

twelve hours

ready for the fall

Award: Olicity Fandom Royalty

Kudos: Jen (jbuffyangel) may have introduced me to the Arrow fandom that exists beyond the tv screen, but Calli’s Ready for the Fall showed me I didn’t have to fear the idea of fan fiction. She helped open up a new world to me, where very talented anonymous authors could right the wrongs of showrunners and let the characters I love so much live on forever; as each other, or as pirates, or even as werewolf soulmates. Several years later she wrote Twelve Hours and taught me not to be too hasty in my preconceived ideas (ahem, Chapter 10, just sayin’). I love her stories, her analysis and words of wisdom on Tumblr, and her podcasts with Jen. Thanks for everything!

Bonus Kudos: I remember waiting every Wednesday last summer for Calli’s latest update of real love (is never a waste of time). I would be refreshing my tumblr every ten mins it felt like. It was such an amazing fic (along with every other one of her fics!), but that one will always be my favorite of yours! You are phenom! -Caitlin (@blondeeoneexox)

@memcjo’s recs:

** @hope-for-olicity **

Love Letters

Hidden Thoughts and Feelings

I Am Not Broken

No Sex Until There is Hair

So Much Love

Choices

Award: Queen of Fix it Fic and Felicity’s POV

Kudos: I don’t even know where to begin to tell all of my love for Jacq and her amazing stories. Jacq’s stories are so easy to become wrapped up in. She has a way of putting you right there as Oliver and Felicity navigate whatever life has thrown at them. During the seasons, I become dependent on her to help me through the trama the Arrow writers have inflicted upon me with their horrible treatment of Oliver and/or Felicity. Jacq’s fix it fics have brought me tremendous joy. Her treatment of Olicity, showing them as flawed people, doing the best they can while loving each other so very much, has brought me to tears more times than I can count. I highly recommend ANY and ALL of her Olicity fic!

Bonus Kudos: Jacq’s fics are what you read when you want to be happy. I can’t thank her enough for all the sweet, feel-good, wonderful stories that always come full circle in a beautiful way. And for all the moments I’ve had to try not to smile/giggle while reading her stories in public. Jacq, you’re truly an amazing writer. And even better, an amazing person! Thank you so much for helping to make my fandom experience so incredible! -Ellie (@smoaking-greenarrow)

Bonus Kudos: Jacq, my love, we’ve talked about this. Adore you and your fluffy full-of-goodness stories and your amazing comments on other author’s fics. The show may have broken your heart, but you and I have a lot of years of great stories ahead of us! -Meegan (@it-was-a-red-heeler)

** @mel-loves-all **

A Touch Unlike Any Other

Vivez

Softly Comes Love

Under a Winter Sky

Award: Olicity Historical Romance Writer Extraordinaire

Kudos: Ah, Mel. How do I love your romance novel Olicity? Let me count the ways...Mel seriously provides the exact right mix of sweet meetings and budding romance in her Olicity novels. I adore her feisty and endearing Felicity, I swoon over her stoic yet thoughtful and loving Oliver. When Olicity comes together in her beautifully crafted stories my heart simply becomes a puddle of goo. Historical Romances are my go to get-aways, and Mel’s stories always takes to a magical Olicity AU.

** @dmichellewrites **

Wanted

Distractions 

Hover

What Are You Thinking?

Under the Stars

Award: Most Fabulous Writer of Olicity Family Life in One Shots

Kudos: Devon is the master of creating Olicity in all their flawed, passionate, driven, loving glory. Her stories never fail to give me a new insight into Oliver and Felicity and their life together. I love the way Oliver and Felicity love each other in Devon’s stories.  As she shares her Olicity slices of life I find myself cheering for my OTP. Devon is an amazing story teller and I would recommend all her Olicity fics!

** @geneshaven **

Mother and Daughter

To Do It All Over Again

Ivy Town To Star City

One On The Way

Award: Master of Thought Provoking Olicity Stories (this link leads to his Tumblr account where all his fics are posted)

Kudos: Nobody can craft a story about Olicity quite like Gene. His blend of light and dark, joy and angst has rocked me to the core more times than I can count. Gene’s love and respect for the characters of Oliver and Felicity are evident in the way he treats them in his stories.  I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve reread some of his stories, but every time I do it’s like the best present you can open again and again.

Bonus Kudos: I LOVE a @geneshaven update! I remember first seeing his Tumblr posts through Louise’s blog and being fascinated that a BOY loved Olicity as much as me! And then he started posting stories that mesmerized all of us. A truly special addition to our fandom. I’m so happy to call Gene a friend! -Meegan (@it-was-a-red-heeler)

** @absentlyabbie ** 

Long Way Down

You’re Not a Friend (No, You’re Nothing)

Interludes

Way Down We Go

Award: MVP of Emotionally Compromising Fanfic

Kudos: When I say emotionally compromising I mean it in the most, best, angsty possible way. Abbie’s fics can rip your heart out and stop you from breathing, leaving you shaken and in the next moment your heart is melting from the amazing tender actions any and all of our fav Arrow characters. These roller coaster ride stories takes you to the highest heights only to drop you to rock bottom! This series I’ve posted is just HEART WRENCHING, MOVING, and OH MY GOD~ addictive. Her updates are celebrations, her cliffhangers can drive me to drink. And I wouldn’t have it any other way!!

Bonus Kudos: Parts of Long Way Down still run through my head now again, it’s that powerful a story. Angsty in the best way possible, dark, sharp, and wonderful. A must-read for the fandom. Thanks for an amazing story! -Meegan (@it-was-a-red-heeler)

[baseballbitch116]

Something New part 2

A/N: Surprise!! It’s been so long since I wrote the first part but it got nearly 1,000 notes and so many people asked for a second part soooo here it is!! I’ve actually been trying to write this for a while but I was having writer’s block on how to follow up the first part. Hope you like! ♥

Pairing: Slow-burn Steve Rogers x reader

Prompt: Some of the Avengers go to a club after Tony’s party and have a little fun ;)

Word Count: 3184

Warnings: Erotic dancing/atmosphere, suggestiveness, alcohol consumption

First part

Masterlist | Fandoms | Request | Support My Blog | Coming Soon

After you went to your room, you had gone to sleep; however, that was short lived - due to eager/tipsy Wanda and Natasha coming barging into your room with whiskey and tequila shots, insisting that you get up and join them for a girls night. So you got dressed all over again, given it was only 11pm, and did a little pre-gaming as you got ready together. You slipped into a simple knee-length  black dress, too tired and tipsy to care much about how you looked. The three of you laughed and joked around as if you had been friends your whole lives - even Nat- and it felt great.

And just your luck, the three of you ran into a few of the men on your way out of the complex. “Where are you ladies off to?” Tony asks, the laughter dying down as you realize you have been “caught.”

Wanda giggles and says “To the club down the street,” to which you and Nat simultaneously smack her on each of her arms. “Ow! Oops! We’re not going anywhere!” She exclaims, giggling like a child. Clearly she isn’t the greatest at holding her liquor, given her young age, despite that she is Russian.

Steve gives you a look - the same one he gives when people cuss around him. “I thought you were going to bed?” He questions, crossing his arms, wondering why you would say that if you were just going to go out.

“I was! They woke me up and wouldn’t leave me be!” You exclaim, giggling in your tipsy state. 

Bucky and Steve exchange a look, and Tony smirks, telling JARVIS to do a few things as he grabs his coat. “Oh no no no, you aren’t coming. Girls night.” Natasha argues, but Tony interrupts her when he raises his hand.

“Soldiers - you coming? Someone has to drive you girls home.” He argues, directing the last part toward you girls. You can’t help but agree - if they came along, then you could get super drunk. Steve sighs and grabs his black leather jacket, and you smile, patting him on the arm as you pass him. “It’ll be fun!” You insist, heading off toward the elevator ahead of everyone else, Steve watching you as you walk away.

The walk to the club was short, given that it was only a block away. The place wasn’t overly-packed, but it certainly wasn’t empty either. Tony was quick to get you guys access to the VIP area and order a bottle of the club’s finest. Meanwhile, you drug Wanda out onto the dance-floor. You wanted to dance with Steve, but you knew that the chances of that were slim. He didn’t seem the club type - you were surprised he came at all.

Wanda danced beside you as Boom Clap by Charli XCX blared throughout the club, the vibration of the bass echoing throughout your body. You drag your fingers through your long hair as you sway your hips to the music, the fuzziness in your head adding to the euphoric atmosphere. Wanda’s a little shy about dancing with you in the beginning, until Natasha joins the two of you with a round of shots.

Two shots of tequila later and Wanda was grinding in between yourself and Natasha shamelessly. You were living it up on the dance-floor, losing yourself more and more with every song. You made sure to stay within viewing distance of the men sitting in the VIP section, knowing damn well that they were watching. You couldn’t help yourself as the girls danced with you - you were growing very turned on. You trailed your hands down Wanda’s waist as she danced with her back to you, her own hands around Nat’s neck. She pressed her ass back into you as the beat dropped in E.T by Katy Perry, leaning her head back against your shoulder as she did so.

Your eyes wander away from Nat’s toward the direction of the men, satisfied when you spot all three watching you guys. You continue swaying your hips in tune with the beat, making eye contact with Steve as you did so. You could feel his eyes burning into you as he sat there. His legs were spread as he leaned back in the arm chair, his elbow resting on the arm and his hand under his chiseled jaw. This normally wasn’t his scene, but there was something intoxicating about the way that you were dancing with the girls - he couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

Wanda went to get another drink after the song ended, leaving you with Natasha. She moved in closer and placed her hands on your hips, pulling you closer and leaning in to whisper in your ear - sending shivers down your spine. “He’s watching you,” She says as the beat to the next song starts up, lightly swaying her hips as she holds onto your’s. Ironically, the song is I Kissed A Girl by Katy Perry, making a drunken smirk crawl up your lips.

“Mm, really?” You respond, spinning around in Nat’s arms to press your back against her, her hands still grasping your hips.

“He wants you bad - he just won’t admit it.” She continues in your ear, her breath tickling your soft skin. “We should do something about that.”

“We should,” You respond over your shoulder, your face coming dangerously close to her own. She smirks down at you as she leans in slightly so that your foreheads are nearly touching. Her face is illuminated by the changing color lights in the club, but she looks sexy as she flirts with you. If you weren’t so into Steve, you may find the position more compromising for you.

Nat surprises you when she suddenly takes your hand and spins you are to face her again, trailing her hands up and down your body as she dances with you. She has you guys turned so that you are more visible to the guys, and you can clearly see them watching you guys still. You giggle as you spot Wanda trying to convince Bucky to come dance, but he seems pretty resistant. Nat turns around and bends over in front of you, playfully twerking against you. You start laughing hysterically in your drunken state and slap her ass lightly, pretending to throw money on her.

Steve watches intently as you dance with Natasha, enjoying the scene much more than he was willing to admit. It was very sexy, no one could deny it - but he also found himself growing increasingly jealous. No, this wasn’t his scene at all - but if anyone was going to dance with you like that, he wanted it to be himself. He tried hard to contain his thoughts, not willing to let himself lose control. He could feel himself growing more turned on as he watched you guys, but he desperately fought off letting it show.

You are startled when you feel someone lean into you from behind but don’t bother turning around, figuring it was Wanda returning. That was - until you felt an unmistakable bulge pressing into your ass. You look over your shoulder and are met by some random guy with a crappy haircut smirking at you. You give Nat a tap on the arm and she stands up, turning to face you, pulling you into her body enough to be out of the arms of the stranger. “Oh c’mon, you aren’t gonna share?” He complains, giving a tug at your arm.

Steve immediately noticed the man come up behind you as you danced with Nat and tensed up when he saw him lean into you. He couldn’t help but lean forward in his seat, inwardly debating his next action. He certainly didn’t want some random guy grinding on you, but was it his place to step in? He glanced over at Tony, who was downing his glass of bourbon, removing his over-priced black jacket that he tosses carelessly over his seat - leaving him in his blue button-down shirt. “Joining me, boys?” He asks before making his way onto the dance-floor toward you girls, Wanda trailing close behind him.

You cheer when you spot Tony heading over to you and Nat, ignoring the man still attempting to dance with you. At this point you had lost track of your original plan to try to seduce Steve, more focused on how much fun you were having until this dude showed up uninvited. “Tonyyyyy,” You call out, grabbing hold of his hand when he got close enough and pulling him in close. He shoots a look at the guy beside you who takes it as his cue to leave. You and Wanda giggle like little girls as you watch the guy walk away in search of someone else to dance with.

The remix version of Bite by Troye Sivan starts up and Nat starts to dance with Wanda, who hands her another drink. “My hero!” You mutter up to Tony as you sway your hips to the beat, loosely hanging on his hands as you do so. Tony smirks down at you, chuckling at your drunken state as he grabs hold your waist, pulling you into him. He leans down enough that his mouth is close to your ear, the feeling of his breath against it sending shivers down your body like it had with Nat. “Surprised you’re not dancing with Steve.” Tony says, moving lightly in tune with the music, not really dancing too hardcore.

You glance over at Steve as you trail your hands up Tony’s chest, fingers grazing his partially exposed chest as you do so. “Why would I?” You respond, playing dumb. How much did he know?

“Oh please, it’s obvious.”

“Is it reallyyyy?” You slur.

“He knows it too, he’s just too old fashioned to do anything about it.” Tony responds in your ear. You spot the look on Steve’s face - although it was a little hard to make out in your drunken state and the low lighting. He looked tense - possibly jealous. You also saw Bucky leaning over and talking to him, but his eyes were locked on yours.

“If that were t-true, he wouldn’t be letting me dance w-with another man!” You holler a little louder than necessary, spinning around in Tony’s arms to face away from him, raising your hands over your head as the song came close to the end.

“Just gotta push the right buttons.” Tony mumbles against your ear, leaning down against you but not quite grinding on you. You gulp slightly, his close presence making you a bit dizzy. Of course Tony was an extremely attractive man, and if you didn’t have your eyes on Steve...

Speak of the devil, you looked up in time to spot Steve making his way across the dance floor. You can’t help but feel nervous and excited as you watch him approach, wondering what the night may have in store. “Mind if I cut in?” He asks, speaking up so that he could be heard over the loud bass starting up with the new song.

“Of course.” Tony smirks, backing off and joining Wanda and Nat.

You step closer to Steve, looking up at him through hooded lids as you begin to sway with the beat once more. “Took you long enough.” You taunt, a smirk toying with your lips. The alcohol running through your veins was making you a bit ballsy, but Steve didn’t mind.

He doesn’t respond as he moves in close to you, moving his body to the beat but not quite dancing. You trail your hands up his white button down shirt, his toned chest prominent through the thin material. You can’t help but bite your lip as you do so, stepping close enough that you were nearly chest to chest. You look up into his eyes as your hands move up his shoulders and interlock behind his neck. You can smell his cologne and feel his body heat radiating onto you, everything about this man intoxicating you.

“Enjoying yourself?” Steve asks as you move with him. The Crazy In Love remix plays in the background, slow but intense, losing yourself in the atmosphere.

“Very much,” You holler over the music, a little louder than you needed to, given the close proximity. You lock eyes with Steve and see him visibly gulp. You press your body against his and lean up slightly to be a bit closer to his face. His eyes drop to your lips and you hope and pray that he will take a hint and kiss you. You can feel his breath on your mouth as he leans in closer, just inches away. The beat in the background, the heat of the moment, the feeling on his hands on your hips - it was all too much. Steve looks between your eyes and your lips once more, the grip on your hips growing a little tighter as he got closer. You lean in just enough to brush your lips against his own ever so slightly... And then he pulls back.

You are stunned momentarily, the moment killed instantaneously. What just happened? “I don’t want this to happen while you’re drunk.” Steve says, his hands on your hips releasing. You stare up at him, contemplating what you should do now. You were too drunk to think properly and you didn’t know what to do. Should you get mad, should you cry, should you try harder? You pout at him and he chuckles, surprisingly you when he takes your hand and starts guiding you off of the dance floor. You follow him back to the VIP area, watching his hand pull you along. He releases it when you are behind the velvet ropes and you immediately go for the bottle of bourbon. Just as you go to pour a glass, Steve whisks the bottle from your hand.

You pout at him again and try to grab it back, but he holds it out of your reach. “I think you’ve had enough.” He says, placing the bottle on the table behind him.

“You’re such a-dad!” You hiccup. He shakes his head and grabs his jacket.

“You wanna stay with me tonight?” He asks. Your eyes light up, completely misunderstanding him, and you nod excitedly. He knows that you misunderstood him but at this point he just wants to get you back home and sobered up. Tonight has been nothing but a giant tease for him and as far as he was concerned - the sooner you were back in your right mind, the better. He had every intention of finishing what he started - just not until you were sober.

He takes your hand and starts guiding you out of the building, not before informing Bucky of where you guys were going. You are hit with the chilly New York air as soon as you exit the building and you inhale deeply, finally able to breathe outside of the humid atmosphere of the club. You stumble down the steps slightly but Steve’s arm catches you and you do not let go of it until you reach the bottom. He places his jacket over your bare shoulders before linking his arm with yours and guiding you back to the compound, listening to you drunkenly ramble on about how pretty the buildings looked at night.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at how cute you were, nodding every so often as you spoke. Eventually you got back up to the living quarters and Steve brought you back to his room. You were excited and tense as he led you there, and he could see it. You looked around for a moment as he entered. It was simple, but nice. You watched as Steve opened up one of his drawers and grabbed a T-shirt. He walked over and handed you the navy blue shirt, giving you a light smile as his hand brushed against yours. “Why don’t you change? I’ll get you some water.” He says before exiting the room, closing the door behind himself.

You start to undress but end up falling on the floor trying to unzip your dress. By the time Steve has returned you still have not managed to unzip your dress and are sitting on the floor struggling to grab it. With a chuckle, he places the glass of water down on his dresser and takes your hands, helping you back to your feet. “Help?” You hiccup, smiling up at him. He is resistant for a moment but decides it won’t hurt - so he brushes your hair out of the way and unzips the dress for you. He ignores his fingers brushing down your body and close to your ass, releasing as soon as the dress is unzipped and taking a step back.

Much to his shock, you slip out of the dress right in front of him without even turning away. He clears his throat and looks away as you take off your bra, watching him. You giggle at him as you toss your black bra at his feet, seeing his face turning red. “Y/N,” He starts, but you shoosh him. You pull the large T-shirt over your body and Steve returns his gaze to you - only to realize that this wasn’t a whole lot better. You looked incredible in his shirt, he was stunned. You turn around and stumble over to his bed, collapsing on top of it. He regains his composure and grabs the glass of water, approaching you at the side.

You sit up and take the glass from him, downing it quickly after realizing how thirsty you had become. “Mm,” You groan, satisfied with the refreshing liquid. Steve shifts uncomfortably and clears his throat, forcing himself not to react to your actions. “Here,” He says, grabbing the comforter and helping you underneath the sheets. You look adorable and every part of him is dying to stay with you - but he wants to be a gentleman. “I’ll be on the couch if you need me.” He says, preparing to walk away - but you grab his hand.

“Stay?” You ask tiredly. He gives you a look and goes to argue, but you interrupt him. “I just want to cuddle. It’s not take-ing advantage o-of me.” You say through tired yawns, releasing his hand and closing your eyes. Steve debates for a moment before giving in, deciding it wouldn’t be the worst thing he could do. He walks around to the other side and strips off his clothing, changing into sweats and a tank top before climbing in beside you. He turns off the lamp and you shift over to his side, leaning your head on his shoulder.

He looks down at you in the dark and can’t help but smile, wishing this could be an every night thing. He wished that you were not drunk, that he could do all of the things he’s been dying to. “G’night,” You mumble into his arms, your lips brushing against his bicep. Steve smiles contently and watches you as you begin to drift off to sleep - wondering what the morning would bring him...

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[sharkfish]

ps i loved this one

(rereading bookmarks edition)

i’ve been rereading stories from my bookmarks as a comfort thing. i’m getting real deep in there to stuff i haven’t (re)read for years, and damn do i have good taste. the ones i’ve read recently that you should, too: 

(under the cut so i’m not that asshole that makes you scroll past an endless post) 

A Change of Scene by SurlyCat

When Dean goes over to see his Dom on Christmas Eve, he isn't expecting Cas to play naughty Santa, and neither of them is expecting how it turns out for them.

ooooomg fuck me up with that sex to lovers thing featuring bdsm. yessssss 

A Room of His Own (or not) by Valinde (Valyria)

Dean took a deep breath and reassessed the situation. He was in bed with a guy, sure, and technically they were snuggling, but it was Cas. The guy had absolutely no reference on what was appropriate physical contact between two dudes sharing a bed in the... normal, completely unsexy, no-funny-business, way.

cas is fallen, dean is confused (what else is new), A+ cuddling. that’s the fic. 

Boys On Film by LoversAntiquities @tragidean​ 

But maybe that’s what it is—maybe Castiel’s finally realized something Dean is too chicken to admit, despite the fact he’s been jerking off to the idea of Castiel fucking him for the past few weeks. The idea warms him as much as it pains him to think about, his friend not being able to talk to him about something like that. That has to be it—it’s the only explanation. Castiel likes him.

“Or maybe he knows you do cam shows.”

Dean chokes on his burger.

idk what to say, i love a good sex worker fic and here you go. @tragidean​ is always here with that first-class content. 

Castiel's Angel by Valinde (Valyria) @valinde​

The angel took a deep breath and looked down at his hands. He was fidgeting Cas noticed. Usually he was so bizarrely at ease in his human form, lounging around and tossing winks and smirks at anyone with a pulse. That more than anything had Cas straightening on his stool and wishing he was a little less tipsy.

“Ineedyoutogroommywings,” Dean muttered in one long, almost unintelligible, string. He was blushing.

all my fellow wing hos should flock* to this fic. i also love me a good switcharoo with angel dean (and hunter cas, as this is an alternate canon universe). and dean gets all claim-y, which is also my jam. 

*this was unintentional but a pretty funny joke 

For Science! by pm_lo 

Selected transcripts and supporting materials from Dr. Castiel Williams and Dean Winchester’s seminal study on physiological and psychological sexual response by gender designation.

i believe this was the first abo fic i added to my bookmarks. story time: many, many moons ago, i kept track of my reading list. i was doing that “50 books a year” thing so it was mostly for tracking that, but i had another tab for fics, because i read few enough that i could track them. i rated things and sometimes left notes, and by all the abo ones i was like “don’t tell anyone i read this.” yes, i shamed myself for liking abo. it was a dark time in my life.

anyway, then i read this, and was like, all right i can see what’s going on here.

this is a great fic for multiple reasons, and the format is one. it’s written as dialogue-only transcripts from their experiment. it’s hard to make that kind of format work, but pm_lo ain’t fucking around. 

Just a Stranger On the Bus by Amelia_Clark 

December 31 9:32 PM When Castiel boards the bus in KC, they think it’s empty at first—but when they toss their backpack onto an aisle seat and climb in after it, there’s a muffled yelp from the dimness at the back of the bus. They turn in time to see a man in a faded Carharrt jacket, sitting up and yawning as he rubs sleep out of his eyes. The man’s hair is greasy and matted down on one side, and there’s drool on the side of his face; nonetheless, he’s ridiculously good-looking.

“Hey man,” he says. Castiel does not correct him. “This can’t be Chicago.”

the non-binary tag, just like the trans tags in general, are a house half-built and left to rot in the rain. even if that wasn’t true, this series is goddamn amazing. also there’s rimming. also there’s a line in there that said something like “they don’t dislike their body, it just never felt like theirs” and i had a lightbulb moment irt my own experience. did dean ever wear carharrt in the actual series? if not, mistakes have been made. 

Just Turn Around and Go by PorcupineGirl @porcupine-girl​

Dean should be happy. His best friend and housemate of five years, Castiel, is moving out to live with his boyfriend, Balthazar. Dean's career is going great, so he can easily afford the house on his own now. This is just growing up, moving forward to the next phase of their lives.

It would be awesome, if he weren't in love with Cas.

Well, here we go, he thinks as he opens the refrigerator and digs around for sandwich supplies. First day of the rest of your life. Time to move the fuck on. As he slams his meat and mayo and pickles down on the counter, he considers adding the bottle of whiskey he knows is hiding in the cabinet, but decides that he has enough self-respect to wait 'til five. Then he'll get fucking blackout drunk. Yep. Awesome.

y’all, do i even have to say anything about this? roommates to friends to a pathetic amount of pining without saying shit to disgustingly in love. also i think i cried, but i’ve been in tears so many times in the last week, who’s to say. 

Plus One by ceeainthereforthat @ceeainthereforthat​ 

Castiel Novak might have to attend three weddings in two months, but he’s not about to let his brother play matchmaker. His family’s Internet streaming company is too important to let a relationship steal his time, but he knows exactly what to do–hire someone to pretend to be his boyfriend.

Dean Winchester has worked five-star hospitality long enough to know how to fit in with Castiel’s crowd, and this job could score him the connections to make his acting career take off. It’s a business deal, no matter how they’re drawn to each other. When the lines of their contract start to blur into real feelings, can they withstand Castiel’s family and jealous fans working to split them up?

there are a lot of great fake dating stories out there, but this one takes the cake (or, at least, a slice of it). also, i cried a lot rereading this, both “ohhh god i love their love” tears and also “ohhhh god this hurts so bad” tears. 

Should've Just Asked by Annie D (scaramouche) 

Despite their age gap and differing social circles, Castiel has struck up a warm friendship with Mary Winchester, a wealthy widowed socialite. When Castiel needs a place to stay, Mary invites him into her house, where there’s loads of spare room. Castiel’s aware that they make an odd pair, but he doesn’t fully realize how things look to outsiders, especially to Mary’s eldest son. All Dean Winchester sees is that his mom has apparently hooked up with a hot young guy (who is totally Dean’s type) and that makes things… weird.

they’re both oblivious idiots in love, cas is grey-ace, dean’s a total dork, it’s all just very lovely (and frustrating in the way oblivious idiots can be!!!). 

PS - annie d is writing marvel fic lately and i’m sure it’s fantastic if you’re into that kind of thing. 

Support Your Local Gay Beekeeper by Powerfulweak

It’s not like Dean goes on Grindr very often, just when he’s bored and alone. The blue-eyed guy's profile reads "Beekeeper, 29, 5'10, Single, I watch the bees." Dean is intrigued. He has to send a message.

this is a series that starts with some great phone sex and then goes on to very, very awkward sex injuries. a goddamn cringefest that had me in complete horror imagining it. but it’s fun! they persevere! people so rarely write about Sex Going Wrong and i love @powerfulweak​ for taking the bullet for us on that one. 

Take Me Home Tonight by Persephoneshadow @persephoneshadow​

“Come on, we’re finding you someone to…engage with sexually or whatever,” Dean explains, chancing another swig of beer before going on. “Anyone in this bar, no limits, who would you would be your top choice to bang?” “Well, you, ideally.” Dean spits out some beer before collapsing in on himself, legitimately choking this time. “Excuse me?!” ---- Or the one where Cas wants to have sex and Dean is there to help.

your classic denialist “i’ll be your wingman” turning to “actually imagining someone else touching you makes me want to punch someone.” which is dumb, because cas actually wanted dean all along. 

Words with Friends by betts

"Dean Winchester is as straight as an arrow. He’s a lady’s man of epic proportions: the king of the one night stand, the messiah of the friends with benefits paradigm, the emperor of perpetual bachelorhood.

Except, apparently, when it comes to his best friend, Castiel Novak."

***

Wherein a longstanding acquaintanceship leads to friendship, then best friendship, then sexting, then dirty talk, then mutual masturbation, then, inevitably, fucking.

look i think you’re always in good hands with @bettsfic​. but this one has some good sexting and phone sex right at the start, which i’m totally into, and then it gets even better. cas is a lil bossy, by which i meant to say he’s the kind of bdsm geek who has equipment installed in his bedroom for sex purposes. 

You're The Only Stranger I Need by lyndsie_l

When Castiel receives a text from a stranger, he finds himself engaging in conversations daily. He's drawn to the outgoing college student and longs to interact with the other man as often as he can. Slowly, he finds himself falling in love with the other and can't imagine ever meeting a more beautiful person.

The only problem?

He's never actually met this other man.

be still my heart! a long distance/texting/phone sex thing! i want to read it again right this second. cas is such a cool nerd, dean is a brat, it’s a good time all around. 

if you enjoy these fics (and you should), please give the writer some love via kudos and/or comments. <3 

ps - as always, if i didn’t tag the writer and you know their tumblr, please tag in the comments. i don’t think there’s a writer alive who wouldn’t be happy to be on a rec list. :) 

[niksixx]

Chapter 5-An Angel in Hell

A/N: If you would like to be tagged, let me know💕

A/N: Reblog and leave comments. They motivate writers ☺️

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Sienna

April 25, 1981

Spending the night was the best decision Sienna could have made. Waking up with Nikki sleeping peacefully beside her seemed so…normal. Why did it feel normal?

He had promised to sleep on the small couch in their living area but Sienna wouldn’t let him. It was his place after all, he deserved to sleep in his bed. So finally, after talking for another hour, they fell asleep in Nikki’s bed together, arms wrapped around each other.

Cleaning the apartment would be a great way to thank him, so Sienna quietly, stealthily, slid out from under Nikki’s grasp and tiptoed into the living room. Rubbing her tired eyes, Sienna almost decided to jump back in bed. Chairs were broken, cigarette butts covered the carpet, bottles were shattered, and was that…was that a fucking roach?

Shivering, Sienna slinked around the bug, searching in cabinets until she found a trash bag. Everything was getting tossed. It was only one party; How could the apartment be this filthy?

After leaving two full trash bags on the porch outside, Sienna came back inside, ready to dig around for some wipes when she heard a door creak open. Looking up, she watched as Shelli crept out of Tommy’s room, head down, with her party clothes tucked under her arm.

“Shelli?”

Squealing, Shelli ran to Sienna, covering her mouth harshly. “First, be quiet you moron, they’re sleeping. Second, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Me?” Sienna chuckled. “I stayed the night. What are you doing here, my dear best friend?”

Shelli’s head hung in shame. “I, uh…fuck I had sex with Tommy again. I am such a fucking idiot.”

Sienna gave her a look. “Shel, you know Tommy likes you. Don’t use him.”

Their heads snapped over to the sound of Tommy’s door opening. With wide eyes, Shelli turned to Sienna and whispered, “Fuck, I need to get out of here. Meet me in the car, hurry!” And with that Shelli was out the door just as Tommy appeared in the hallway, blue sweatpants hanging on his hips.

“Where’s Shelli?”

Sighing, Sienna gave Tommy a sympathetic look. The poor guy looked like a sad puppy. “She left, Tommy. I’m really sorry.”

He nodded his understanding, clapping a hand over his knuckle. “She um…doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

“Shelli is complicated, Tommy. She doesn’t let people in. Unfortunately, you’re not an exception to that little rule of hers.” Sienna could strangle Shelli. Tommy looked utterly devastated, like he knew Shelli only wanted sex. God, didn’t she tell him that the first time they met?

“Well, hopefully all this running away tires her out. Maybe the next time she comes back, she’ll stay.” Without another word, Tommy headed back in his room.

The sound of Shelli’s car horn sounded through the windows and Sienna angrily dropped the pack of wipes she’d found. Sneaking back into Nikki’s room, her heart squeezed at the sight of him still asleep. Gathering her clothes and phone, she quietly kissed his cheek. And when she saw a crumbled napkin in the corner of his room, she snatched it up quickly, snagged a pen from his desk, and scribbled her number.

“I cannot believe you, Shelli Rodgers. You should have seen the damn look on Tommy’s face.” Sienna hadn’t stopped yelling at Shelli since they’d stepped foot into their apartment. Shelli was wrong and Sienna would make her see that. “That boy really thinks he has a shot with you. Either give him a chance or leave him alone.”

Shelli groaned. “The sex is great. His dick is huge. You really expect me to leave?”

Dumbfounded, Sienna threw her hands up dramatically. How could Shelli not see that what she was doing was completely wrong? “Yes! Shelli, you are using him. Tommy isn’t too bright either because he knows you’re using him but he’s still hanging on to that little shred of hope that maybe one day you’ll actually like him back.”

“You know, you’re a little bit of a hypocrite too,” Shelli spat, shooting off the couch. “You don’t do parties. You don’t sleep with men unless you’re dating them. You haven’t drank in months. And yet you feel the need to scold me when you’re doing all the shit you’ve been against for years?”

Sienna’s cheeks burned. Shelli knew exactly why Sienna had kept away from the party scene. And now she was using it against her. Although maybe she was right. She hadn’t been to a party in over a year, alcohol never touched her lips in months, and she would never find herself in bed with a man until their relationship was serious enough to take things to the next level. But all that changed when she’d met Nikki and it seemed like all her morals went straight out the window.

Shelli sighed. “I’m sorry, okay? But I won’t change. All Tommy has to do is tell me he doesn’t want to see me, and I’ll leave. But he hasn’t, so I’m not going anywhere. And besides, we’re two adults just having some fun. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Huffing, Sienna marched into her room, giving Shelli one last look. “It becomes a problem when one person has feelings for the other. Stop messing with him and grow up.”

Sienna didn’t think anything else could ruin her day, but seeing the Veil almost completely empty was the icing on top of the cake. She hadn’t spoken to Shelli for the rest of the day and Sienna refused to apologize for scolding her. Maybe it wasn’t the fact that she was sleeping around that bothered her. The real issue was that Tommy was Nikki’s best friend.

Sighing, Sienna wrapped her body around the pole, doing everything she could to forget her fight with Shelli. Sienna, Cherry, and Bunny were the only girls working tonight, and all three wanted nothing more than to go home.

And Sienna almost ran out the door when she saw him enter the club. 5 foot 8 inches, buzz cut, tattooed arms, and a killer smirk. He hadn’t changed a bit.

“Well, if it isn’t the most beautiful girl at the club. Why don’t you come here and give me a dance, eh sweetheart?”

His eyes were dark, his voice smooth, and Sienna’s heart pounded, goose bumps forming on her skin as panic washed over her. Dante.

“W-What are you doing here, Dante?” Her voice was shaking as well as her body. Bunny shot her a funny look. God Sienna hope this was just a dream. He couldn’t really be there.

“What does it look like?” She squealed as Dante grabbed her wrist, lowering his voice. “I’m waiting for you to dance for me.”

Flashbacks filled Sienna’s head. Screaming, glass breaking, blood, bruises. She remembered it all. Taking a breath to calm her nerves, she lowered herself onto Dante’s lap, watching as a smirk spread across his lips. “I told you two years ago I’d always find you. You’re my girl, Si.”

“I am not your girl, Dante.” Her voice was sharp and she regretted it instantly once a dark shadow washed over his face. Fuck, she knew better than to speak to him that way. “I’m actually seeing someone.” She felt his body tense underneath her.

“You’re…seeing someone? Who?” He was more than curious as his fists balled at his sides. “Who is it?”

She swallowed nervously. “None of your business, Dante. Now you need to leave me alone after this. We’re done. I’m over you. It’s time you moved on.”

He grabbed her hips roughly, nails digging into her sides. “I will never move on from you. I told you, we’re meant to be together. You need to realize that and stop fighting me.”

“Dante…”

Grabbing her chin between his fingers, Dante brought her face toward him. Tears begged to fall from her eyes. “You belong with me.” And his lips were on hers, the smell of whiskey on his breath strong, tongue forcing its way into her mouth. And when Sienna’s hand connected with Dante’s cheek, she scrambled off his lap just in time as William, the bouncer, yanked Dante to his feet.

“Let’s go, pal.”

Surprisingly, Dante didn’t fight it. Instead, he wiped a drop of blood from his lip with his thumb and gave Sienna a smile, sending chills down her back. “I’ll come back for you, Sienna. I always will.”

[kclenhartnovels]

Episode Two

[Episode One]

Kate startled awake around midnight as music suddenly blasted in the apartment.

It started with a sensual saxophone solo, cresting with a low, steady back beat and a crooning voice that spoke of cheating lovers and nights of passion. Kate sat up abruptly, clutching the sheets to hold it over her naked chest. “DeWitt!”

“It’s alright,” they called, standing in front of the window and pooled by the neon city lights. They had sent Kate to bed fully clothed, and they had been the same, but now the pair of them were nude, and DeWitt didn’t seem at all surprised. “We were supposed to be having sex by now, that’s all. The music is to cover up the sounds.”

“But where is it coming from?” she asked, twisting her head to try and find the source. She had to shout over the volume of it, but she was sure that her voice was husky for a different reason.

DeWitt shrugged, toying with an unlit cigarette and leaning their forehead against the cool windowpane. “The same place the dramatic chords come from whenever someone dies. Or the trendy pop music whenever there’s a big battle scene.”

“But I’ve never heard that before.”

They lifted their head, and for once their lips cracked in a smile. “Really? This is the first time you’ve heard the sex music?”

She nodded. Her curly hair bounced with enthusiasm. “Yes, and Trent and I have had sex a lot. It seems every time he comes home from a night of danger, I patch him up and scold him, and then we make love all night. I’ve never heard this before.”

“That’s good,” DeWitt enthused. “It means we’re starting to break your narrative, and you can see outside of it. I mean, it’s not great for your eardrums, but it’s a step closer to saving your life.”

“How long is this going to last?” she asked, dropping the blankets in favor of holding a pillow around her ears. A black bar politely appeared to cover her nudity.

DeWitt shrugged. “Usually doesn’t last longer than a few minutes. It’s a story, after all, not an erotica.” Their eyebrows lifted a moment. “God, I hope this isn’t an erotic fanfiction arc. Those always go bizarre directions, and you never know who they throw in as a crossover.”

“What?” Kate yelled around the pillow.

DeWitt offered her a smile. They pushed away from the window at last, pouring two glasses from a bottle of whiskey whose label was politely tilted to hide the brand. “This is how you can tell we have no sponsors,” they remarked, picking up the bottle and turning it. No matter which way it faced the light, the label was crossed with odd shadow, and all that could be made out was WHISKEY in all capital letters.

The music at last faded off with one last triumphant blast of saxophone. Kate dropped the pillow with a sigh of relief. Her hair was attractively rumbled, and she pulled her shirt back on without trying to find her bra. “Why is that whiskey gray?”

They shrugged. Their hat had appeared on again, but no other clothing. The long shadows politely created a deep blackness between hip and thigh. “Some of the things I bring never seem to get colored. There are days my skin is gray, too.”

Kate took the glass with a little smile, the ice rattling too-loud. A bead of condensation rolled over the edge of the glass and skipped across her fingers. “You were saying something about breaking my narrative?”

DeWitt pulled on a pair of pants, and sat across from her. They laced both hands around their glass, and stared into it as if it held all the answers. “It’s the only way to pull you from the story before the writer decides to kill you off. Sometimes keeping you absent will make the writer forget about you, but the artist seems very fond of you.” They glanced up again, watching the way the neon lights caught against her dark skin, a myriad of color that highlighted her cheekbones, the curve of her jaw, the angle of her shoulder, the ice in her glass. “We may need to take more drastic action. You need to break up with Trent.”

She dropped her glass. It shattered. Ice skidded across the floor, landing in a pool of light.

“His villain’s name is Frosticle,” DeWitt muttered, then swore. “Foreshadowing.”

“I can’t break up with Trent,” she said, clasping DeWitt’s hands. “I love him, Agent. He’s--I’m nothing without him. And he needs me.”

“He needs you to further his story.” They squeezed Kate’s hand, then stood to get a broom. “I’ll go with you in the morning, and we will see if we can’t get you quietly written out of this story before you end up in a refrigerator. Or worse.”

“What could be worse than being put in a refrigerator?”

DeWitt swept up the glass. “Oh, Ms. Jackson, I’ve seen so much. Strapped to barrels and blown up while the hero saves a future villain instead. Dropped from a clock tower and and killed inches from the hero’s fingers. Shot with a bullet meant for the hero. Killed as they are confessing their love, killed while pregnant, anything to make the pain worse for the protagonist. Spy movies are even worse--I’ve seen girls encased in gold, attacked by dogs, drowned in oil, poisoned, hit by cars, eaten by piranhas, and shot more times than I can count. It’s a dismal world for the devalued woman.”

“I don’t feel like Trent devalues me.”

“It’s not Trent that I’m worried about. He’s not the one writing this, after all.” They stole a glance towards the window as day broke too quickly, sending lances of red across the floor. Too bright, too red, and DeWitt was sure that the artist was laying the doom on a bit too thick to expect Kate to last until nightfall. They would have to move faster. “Let’s get coffee, and go find your boyfriend.”

****

DeWitt swore that, despite being a city that spanned ninety square miles, Sugar, Honey, Ice, and Tea was the only coffee shop. They couldn’t remember ever seeing another one, but despite that, the line was never longer than it took for them to complete a conversation, and there was always a table available to sit.

“Have you ever noticed, Ms. Jackson, the incongruities of our daily lives?”

Kate fussed with her spoon, stirring her coffee more than necessary, though the swirl of cream and coffee refused to blend. “I’ve noticed that my coffee never cooperates.”

“It’s more satisfying to ink a high contrast swirl like that,” DeWitt said sympathetically. “Look around a moment. Do you ever remember getting coffee from any other cafe? Do you notice anyone familiar, even though you come here every day?”

“How did you know I come here every day?”

“Ms. Jackson. Where else would you go?”

She wasn’t sure what to say, just screwed up her face and stirred her coffee with more force. “I don’t know. I don’t really pay attention to people when I’m in line.”

“What about the workers?”

Her gaze flicked up, settling on the perpetually sullen goth girl manning the register, her colored contacts and lip ring never so much as twitching from the long line of flirtatious regulars and complicated orders. Behind her, a man worked as barista, his shoulders at least twice the width of the machine, the steam billowing in front of his face. His jaw was too square, and his brow too heavy, and DeWitt couldn’t help but think it was extremely lazy henchman design.

“They’re the same as I see every day,” she said mildly. “The barista hardly ever says a word, aside from calling out orders. His name tag says Joe, but everyone behind the counter calls him Steve. The cashier’s name is Demeter, and she hates it. She’s dating a man named Harold, and she hates his name, too.”

“I don’t think I would like the name Harold, either,” DeWitt agreed, still watching the barista fill orders.

“Hey, do you think we should think up a first name for you?” Kate asked brightly. “I mean, something aside from Agent.”

They shrugged. “Truth be told, Ms. Jackson, it doesn’t bother me any longer. Let’s focus on you, first.”

“I think you’re overthinking this, Agent DeWitt. I mean, we’re in the middle of a coffee shop. What could possibly--?”

“Kate?”

She whirled around, her hair flying out behind her to take up at least three panels. Immediately, she smiled, and stood to meet the young man who called from the door. “Trent!”

DeWitt swallowed a groan. Trent Terrigan was precisely what they expected: shapely muscles even in their civilian clothes, a mop of blond hair that they supposed was charmingly messy, and troubled green eyes. A perfect poster boy for a superhero. DeWitt could already see him holding Kate’s body, screaming at the top of his lungs in the middle of a broken building, the light pouring in through the shattered ceiling.

“Kate, where were you last night? You never answered my text. I was so worried.” Trent crossed the distance between them quickly, and pulled his girlfriend into his arms. Kate’s head fit perfectly against his chest, tucked under his chin as she hugged him back. “When I got home and you weren’t there, I thought--oh, I thought something terrible must have happened to you.”

“I had a weird night,” she answered at last, and stepped back. She touched a fresh bruise on his jaw with a frown. “What happened?”

Trent pulled his head away, and looked off into the distance above her head. “It’s nothing.” DeWitt could see the flashback panels appearing behind Trent, showing quick clips of a battle with some great beast made of ice.

DeWitt cleared their throat, and stood at last. “Ms. Jackson.”

“Oh! Yes.” She pulled out of Trent’s arms, though reluctantly. “Trent, this is Agent DeWitt. I was staying with them last night.”

“Agent?” he repeated. “What agency do you work with?”

“The SCPA, Mr. Terrigan, and we’ve placed Ms. Jackson under our protection. And she has something she needs to tell you.”

“ASPCA? She’s not a dog.”

“Wrong acronym, Mr. Terrigan,” DeWitt corrected. “Common mistake.”

Kate tilted her chin, and stood beside DeWitt as if she could draw strength from them. “Trent. I want to break up.”

The lights in the cafe flickered, and the color drained from Trent’s face. “What? Kate, no. Why? Is it this--this Agent? Are you leaving me for them?”

“No. Trent, I love you, but--”

“%#@!,” said DeWitt.

I love you was enough. The espresso machine flew across the room, crashing between Trent and Kate and narrowly missing both of them. DeWitt pulled her back behind them quickly, and Trent turned to face the barista who was already climbing over the counter. Electricity crackled along Trent’s knuckles, and he immediately crouched into a dynamic pose.

“Power Surge,” the barista greeted, rolling up his sleeves as the other customers scattered to the corners of the room. “Frosticle sends her regards.”

DeWitt pushed Kate under the table as the barista picked up a chair and threw it at Trent’s head. The lights flickered overhead, then the bulbs popped one after another, sending shards of glass flying through the cafe. DeWitt drew their gun, standing guard over Kate as the first bolt of electricity from Trent’s hands sent the metal chair flying back at the barista, glowing blue from the charge.

“Please don’t shoot them!” Kate pleaded from under the table, grabbing DeWitt’s pant leg.

“Probably wouldn’t hurt them anyway,” they muttered, then pulled the trigger, firing the gun into the air. A vibrant red and yellow BANG accented the shot.

Both men stopped, staring at DeWitt in surprise.

“I have one question,” they said to the barista, the gun still pointed at the ceiling. “Is your name Joe, or Steve?”

The barista shrugged his massive shoulders. “It depends on the edition.”

DeWitt produced a business card, and offered it to the brute of a man. “Come by my office later on. I think you and I need to have a conversation. Kate,” they added, leaning down to help her back to her feet, “come on, you can come back with me.” They walked her to the door, picking their way through the broken glass and the tangled wreck of an espresso machine. “Gentlemen. As you were.”

The door swung shut. DeWitt heard the fight music swell again, and put their back to the chaotic fight within the cafe. Instead, they took off their coat, and draped it over Kate’s shoulders.

She held it close. “What do we do now?”

“Now, Ms. Jackson, we go back to my apartment and see if we broke your narrative enough.”

****

The rest of the day passed in relative quiet; when they returned, DeWitt’s apartment had at least expanded to a one-bedroom instead of a studio, and the couch and coffee table afforded them the option to play cards and talk. They ordered takeout for dinner, delivered by a tiny Chinese man who spoke only broken English, and DeWitt ate with a fork instead of chopsticks. Kate showered at least three times, and spent most of the afternoon in a towel or lingerie.

As the sun finally began to sink low, Kate stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, pressing her hands against them as she watched the city. The evening light cast long shadows across her face, accenting the arch of her cheekbones and curve of her lips. Somehow, her makeup was still impeccable, even if her hair was still damp from the latest shower. She was about to speak, then gasped, the noise coming with tremor marks in the air around her.

“Agent DeWitt, something is happening!”

Her breath frosted the window. DeWitt swore under their breath as ice crystals crackled up the pane, thin and spidery at first, then cementing to a solid block that completely obscured the view of the waking city. The room dropped in temperature, and their breaths clouded in front of them.

“Frosticle,” DeWitt guessed, pulling down the brim of their hat and pulling the revolver from their belt. Their long black coat flapped in a breeze that wasn’t there. “I guess we’ll have to deal with her first.”

Kate shivered, wrapping a blanket. “Agent DeWitt, I’m frightened.”

“Of course you are, Ms. Jackson. Otherwise you wouldn’t be a damsel in distress.”

She bit her lip. Frost tipped her black curls. “I need to call Trent.”

“Don’t. I’ll take care of it.”

“Are you going to shoot her?”

“Shoot her?” DeWitt looked down at the gun in their hand, then holstered it with an irritated sigh. “Of course not. I’m going to talk with her.”

Before Kate could protest, they crossed the small room (still cursing that their two-bedroom had shrunken. They were sure that their rent wouldn’t reflect the new size.) They unlocked their door, put on what they hoped was a calm and disarming smile, and swung it open. The hall outside was at least ten degrees warmer than their apartment, and also devoid of life.

Behind DeWitt, the iced-over windows shattered inwards.

Kate screamed, throwing the blanket over her head to protect her face. The crunch of heels on glass echoed the smile that curled the corner of Frosticle’s white-painted lips, stark contrast to her dark skin.

“Well, well, what do we have here?”

DeWitt closed the door behind them, turning to face Frosticle and sighing through their nose. “Ah, yes, we’ve been expecting you, Miss--?” They paused, and a frown creased between their eyes. Though six-inch heels made her look taller, and her mermaid-cut white rhinestone dress was almost more revealing than anything Kate had worn, her face was unmistakably similar to the one still hiding beneath the blanket.

“Ms. Jackson, why didn’t you tell me that you had an identical sister?” DeWitt sighed.

Kate cowered on the floor, lifting one corner of the blanket carefully. “I don’t. I have an evil twin sister.”

Frosticle smiled, and extended one hand towards DeWitt, curls of ice spiraling up from her palm. “And honey, I’m so good at being bad.”

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[mtraki]

I’ve debated whether to post this or not, but I saw this subject as an ask for another writer and figured ‘why the heck not?’

It was a slow Wednesday night when the cowboy came in.

She’d never forget it.  She’d take the memory to her grave.  It was so surreal.  That stereotypical scene from all the old westerns spliced into the small, smokey space of the dive bar named The Dandy Bear Saloon: The door opened and in he came, boots thudding, spurs jangling, black hat tipped low over his brow, covering his eyes.  Everyone stopped and turned to stare-- all five of them, herself included.  She swore the old jukebox skipped, Bob Segar’s ‘Beautiful Loser’ (“a perfect lodger--a perfect lodger, a perfect guest”) playing quietly in the corner for the sixth time tonight.  It was Terry’s favorite and she was having a hard time with her mom and husband, again.

Immediately, the cowboy saw them staring, feeling the abrupt change in the air, and could sense the antagonism.  She’s sure only she could see the briefest hesitation in his stride as he continued toward her where she stood behind the bar.

He’d crossed half the distance with his purposeful, swaggering stride before she noticed the guns.  One revolver slung slow on his right hip, the other across the left side of his belly in a cavalry draw, rounds in the belt between them.  A bandolier across his body and over his right shoulder housed old brass shells for the double-barrel slung over his left shoulder.  At the same time, she noticed the smell.  That was the other thing she’d never forget: if seeing him had been surreal, it was smelling him that made the situation all too real.

He’d smelled like horses, and all things associated with horses, leather, and the inside of the men’s locker room at the gym the week the a/c had been out.

Dick and Roger were watching the cowboy warily, giving her looks she figured were asking if they should call the cops or if she had the situation in hand.  There were only five of them.  If this guy was a psycho, rolling in here with loaded guns, he could kill them all without having to reload.

But she didn’t think he was a psycho-- despite the way he looked, despite the way he smelled, there was something very lucid in his steely blue eyes flecked with green when he leaned his elbows on the bar, looking her in the face.

That was the other thing.  He looked her immediately in the face, deliberately ignoring the generous cleavage provided by a good push-up bra and neglected upper buttons of her blouse.

“Hey Tex,” She grinned at him, quelling her rolling stomach.  He stank like he hadn’t bathed in a year.

“Miss.” He returned quietly, his voice cordial, but his expression was controlled.

“You want something to drink?”

The emphatic answer led her to believe that his evening was going perhaps as well as Terry’s, “Yes.”

“Great.  I’m gonna need you to hand over the iron first, though, partner.  Before one of my off-duty cop regulars rolls in and loses his shit…”

“... Loses his what?”

She beckoned, “No, seriously, hand over your guns.  You’re scaring everyone.”

Turning his head, he looked at the four others.  Dick and Roger stared back evenly.  Terry was gathering up her purse and jacket to leave.  Oscar had his back to the rest of them again, smoking the last nub of his cigarette over his beer.  Obviously none of them were armed.  State law allowed licensed concealed carry, and Clark had a pump action shotgun under the bar just in case, but most people in town just didn’t carry.  The cowboy looked back her way and drew the off-hand revolver with his left hand, sliding it across the bar, grip toward her with one hand, drawing the other with his right to do the same.

They sounded like real metal, they looked real, and when she reached for one to tuck it under the bar, she noted the weight.

“Jesus,” She whispered, “it’s real…”

And loaded.

“Sure it’s real.” He answered quietly, unflustered, still looking her in the eye, though his gaze flicked toward the muzzle of the weapon, as if worried she might turn it on him.

Snatching up the other revolver, she ducked and stowed them under the bar, taking his shotgun-- also very real-- when he handed it over.  The weapons all showed signs of use, but nothing very recent, she thought.  She wondered what kind of insane convention he’d come from.  She wondered how he’d made it down the street without getting stopped by every patrol car.

“Great… So I can get those back to you when you leave, I guess… mister…?”

“... Morgan.  Arthur Morgan.”  He’d said it like he’d debated saying something else.

“Mister Morgan… Unless you’ll let me call you ‘Arthur’?”

“... Sure.”

“What can I get you to drink, Arthur?”

“Anythin’...”

“Don’t say that.” She grinned, jerking her thumb to the full shelves behind her.

“... Whiskey, then.”

“... You’re killing me, Arthur.” And she indicated the shelf of whiskeys.

“Christ!” He sputtered, staring at it as if it were some incomprehensible thing.

“Want me to…” But she didn’t finish her question.  He wasn’t looking at her anymore, he was looking over her shoulder, reading the labels.  She watched his lips move ever so slightly as he did so, and the blood ran out of his face.  She couldn’t imagine why.

“... You okay?” “... I dunno, no more…” Was his very soft confession, voice no longer steady, “... Can y’pour me somethin’?  Please…?”

“Sure.  You opening a tab--” She reached back for a bottle at random--Jack Daniel’s No 7-- and was turning around again when he put two large coins on the bar.  She looked at them, then looked him in his pale face and finished, “... What the fuck is this, Arthur?”

“Money…?” He seemed even more genuinely confused than she was, which only made her all the more uneasy, and therefore irritated.

For a moment, she strongly considered throwing him out or calling the cops-- or throwing him out AND calling the cops-- but then she exhaled slowly out her nose and slid the coins over to inspect them.  They were good sized silver coins, one side depicting a seated woman, the other an eagle with the words “UNITED STATES OF AMERICA” across the top and “420 GRAINS. 900 FINE.  TRADE DOLLAR” along the bottom.  The year for one was 1883, the other was 1875.

The smell was real.  The guns were real.  Maybe the money was real too?  And whereas two dollars in coins wasn’t going to cover what she’d been about to pour him, if they were real, they were probably worth a great deal more.

It was a weird night, and she’d been willing to gamble.

She poured him two fingers and slid the glass over, “I’ll open your tab.  Try that, see if you like it at all.  You mind if I send some photos of your coins to a friend of mine?”

“... What for?”

“To check their authenticity.”

“Authen-- you tellin’ me my money ain’t good here?!”

In her most placating-without-backing-down tone she said, “I’m telling you I don’t know.  Try the No. 7.” “... Check the authenticity…” He muttered, picking up the glass, “Will it take long?”

Pulling out her phone and setting the whiskey bottle down, she snapped a photo of the coins on the bar, turned them over and snapped another, then sent the images to Paul from the pawn shop two blocks down, who knew more about collector coins than she did.

“Nope.”

“... Is that a camera?” He wanted to know before shooting the whiskey.  Then he frowned at the glass. “... What kinda…?”

“Sure.” Shrugging she said, “You don’t like Jack?  I got Jim, Jameson, Makers, Crown, Johnnie, Wild Turkey… I could probably find some Seagrams for you somewhere…”

She went through the whole shelf without finding something he liked.  Meanwhile Paul was texting back that if the coins were legit, they were in fact worth good money, and that he knew a guy who could take a look at them for her.  Curious, she poured the cowboy two fingers of moonshine-- against her better judgement, really, and he announced that it tasted like something he was used to.

“I keep pouring you that, Arthur, it’s gonna be a short night for you and a long one for me.” “Ah…” He waved off her concern, but admitted he’d like to try the Jim Bean again.

She recognized he was drunk when he pointed at her arm and said, “... What’s all over yer skin…?”

“You mean my tattoos?”

“‘Tattoos’?” He echoed, as if tasting the shape of the word, trying to find out if he liked it or not, “... So yer a sailor?”

“What?”

“A criminal?”

“Excuse you?”

“Well you ain’t a princess…” And he grinned at her.

It was the nicest thing anybody had ever said to her, really.

“Only sailors, criminals, an’ royals-- or folk tryin’ t’copy royals have tattoos, I hear tell…” He explained.

She leaned on her elbows, running her fingers along the dark, twisting lines of ink on her forearm, “Well, Arthur, you heard wrong.  Lots of people have tattoos.  You probably passed three parlors on the way here.” “... Strange town you got here…” He confessed, brow furrowing as he fiddled with his glass.

“I guess.  Usually it’s pretty boring,” She raised her hand in a wave as Oscar stumbled out into the night, mumbling about his ride.

“Sure.”

The drinks had relaxed him and put some color back in his face, but she couldn’t help but think she was pouring whiskey for a deeply traumatized man, and that she ought to maybe be calling an ambulance or a police car instead.

“Think we better call it a night,” Roger said, climbing to his feet along with Dick.

Standing back upright, she went for the register, “I’ll close out your tab then.”

They shuffled out their payment-- Roger always paid with Visa, Dick always paid cash-- and Roger kept his eye on Arthur who paid him no mind while Dick leaned in toward her, eyes wide and serious.

“You gonna be okay here, Cat?”

She smiled and patted his arm with her other hand while taking his cash.  They were nice men, both of them with kids not too much younger than herself.  While they often came here together to get away from the noise of their respective houses, they still insisted on trying to quietly look after her.  Whether that was for sentimental reasons, or just to preserve the sanctity of their bar, she didn’t dare say for sure.

“What was that li’l thing…?” The cowboy asked her after the old regulars had left, leaving her alone with him at the bar.

“What do you mean?”

“That mean-faced feller gave you a thing… Din’t look like no money…”

“You mean his credit card?”

Waving his hand at her, Arthur pushed his glass forward, “... Credit from a bank?  With a card?  Can you buy drinks wit’ that?”

“Credit from a lending company-- Wait, okay… seriously.” She laughed at herself, “Arthur, what’s your deal?”

“Whad’ya mean?”

“It’s a good act, partner, but it’s gotten a little stale.  I’m about to close up the bar, so you’ll have to mosey on somewhere else for the night…”

“... Weren’t aware I was puttin’ on…” He sighed and shook his head, “...Y’know a place… a… a hotel or someplace?”

“Sure.  Two or three right around here, closer to the freeway.”

“... Freeway?”

“This is what I’m talking about Arthur,” She rolled her eyes, “You know what a freeway is.  Do you have some modern money to close out your tab?  I can take anything except a check…”

Frustration started to crease his brow, “Th’hell you mean ‘modern money’?”

“Money from this century, cowboy.”

His finger jabbed the bar wood with a thud by where she’d left the trade dollar coins, “These is from this century!”

Looking him in the eye, she was aware once again of the lucidity in them.  He was drunk, not crazy.  Or if he was crazy, it was a deep-seated crazy he’d operated all his life with.  He also thoroughly believed in the veracity of his words.

“... Arthur, no hotel is going to accept this money.  I can’t put this money in the register.”

“Why the hell not?!”

“Because it’s over a hundred years old.”

“What the hell is wrong wit’-- What are you playin’ at?!” His fingers scrambled a minute before he picked up one of the coins to try and read the date, squinting at it in the light and his drunkenness, “... Th-this says ‘1883’.  It’s only seven years old!”

“...Okay.” She said simply, blinking at him. “Forget the tab.  I’m closing.”

He watched her at the register as she closed out the log, swiping her own credit card to zero out the balance.  Clark was going to give her hell about it, but it was just easier.

She’d gambled and it was only right she paid for her losses.

Arthur was still watching her as she started to wipe down the counter for the final time of the night, so she looked at him.  “You need to go.”

“... Right.  Sure.  Thank you… for the drinks…” Unsteadily, he pushed away from the counter, turned around… and couldn’t seem to find the door again. “Um…”

“Oh boy… Come on.”

She walked him out, and he went docilely enough.  The Dandy Bear opened out into the alley, and he still seemed lost, so she pointed him toward the main street and stood there to watch and make sure he left.

He made it to the corner, almost swaggered into oncoming traffic, stumbled back and fell on his ass.  Cursing to herself, she hurried over to make sure he wasn’t hurt and to pull him to his feet.  She really should have called the cops earlier…

“Are you hurt?”

Slowly, in ratcheting movements of his neck, the cowboy looked at her, though his haunted blue eyes seemed to look past her.  He looked at the headlights of the next car coming through, at the buildings towering high above, and then finally at her again. “... My Lord…” He murmured gravely, “... This is Hell.  I’m in Hell…”

“Not quite…” She sighed.  “Come on.  Stand up.”

After getting him up, he took hold of both of her arms, his hands careful, as if he couldn’t trust his own strength, “... Get me outta here, miss.”

She knew that sentiment.  She knew that in her bones.  In the depths of whatever soul she might have.

Get me outta here...

That was how he ended up in her apartment, she figured.

It was a weird night.  She couldn’t explain her logic to herself, it just felt like something she needed to do.  It just felt right that she bring this crazy man home and dump him in her bathroom.  Her family always said she had a self-destructive streak.

He stared open-mouthed at the tile and porcelain, doing a bit of a double-take in the mirror on the wall.

“Get yourself washed up.  I’ll get you a towel.” She instructed.

“... What?”

“Please take a goddamn shower so you don’t make my place smell like death warmed over?”

“... Miss I…” He gestured at the room, then at her, “...I dunno what yer… tellin’ me…”

“...Okay.” She replied in an even tone, “Let’s take this slow, then… You need to wash.  So I’m going to let you use my shower.  Over there.” She indicated the shower stall with the curtain pulled aside, “The plumbing is pretty decent in this building, thank God.  So see this?  This turns the water on…”

She demonstrated, and obediently, water started coming out of the shower head.  Arthur stared at it, then asked, “... Somebody pouring…?”

“What?  No.  It’s the plumbing… The pipes in the walls… Is this seriously a conversation-- Nevermind.  No.  Nobody is pouring.  Look, you can control the temperature of the water that comes out.  This way for hot… This way for cold.  To turn it off, you just push it back in like this.”

“... It’s amazin’!”

“... Sure, cowboy.  Think you can handle that?”

“Sure, I guess…”

“Great.  I’ll find you a bar of soap and a washcloth because I don’t have the energy to try and explain shower gel…”

“... ‘Shower ge’--”

“Exactly.  What about shampoo?”

His blank look told her all she needed to know, “... It’s soap for your hair.  Comes in a small bottle.  I’ll bring you some.  Put it in your hand, massage it into your scalp, rinse it out.  You won’t need a lot.”

She paused, “... You do know how to use soap, right?”

He scowled at her, “Of course I know how to use soap, what do you take me for?”

“... At this point, I have no idea…”

He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.  She rubbed her hands together, “... Anyway, I’ll go get that stuff…”

[the-zodiacs-written-in-the-stars]

Writer’s Month; Day 15 - First Time

Four years prior to Written in the Stars, Mike meets Matt’s family for the first time - and he’s a nervous wreck!

~*~

Summer 2014: Meet the Family

(Prompt: First Time)

Mike was a nervous wreck. Melanie found it honestly kind of fun to watch. He had been pacing the apartment for about two hours now. Or at least that was what Rick had said when he had called her to come over because he couldn't deal with this nonsense anymore. He had better things to do – like a date with the cute girl he had met the other week. Second date and apparently he was already head over heels for this Lizzy girl. That was cute. Cuter than Mike's pacing, that was for sure.

“What's the big deal, little brother?”, asked Melanie pointedly.

“Mattie invited me to go to Cathedral City with him”, muttered Mike distressed.

“Okay... And... what's so huge about that? Is it your first weekend get-away as a couple?”, asked Mel a bit confused. “You've been dating for what, three months?”

“Yes but also no. Cathedral City is where Mattie was born. It's where his family lives”, explained Mike distressed. “He wants to take me to the reservation. To meet his family.”

“Oh. That serious already, huh?”, asked Mel surprised. “Wow. Yeah, I'd go crazy too.”

“...Thanks. Really helpful”, muttered Mike with a glare. “What do I do?”

“You... get his mom flowers and his dad whiskey, you're polite, you do small-talk, you continue looking at Matt like he hung the sun and moon and then you'll be fine”, assured Mel with a fond smile. “Come on, you're absolutely smitten with him and they'll see it.”

“But what... what if I'm not good enough for their son?”, asked Mike worried.

Mel frowned thoughtfully. “Well, I guess then you have to leave the city and never come back.  - Oh, come on, I'm just kidding. Wow. You're really worried. You'll be fine. I know it.”

“But it's not just a dinner. We're staying the weekend so if they don't like me, it will be super awkward all weekend. Or oh god what if they think I'm just after Mattie's money?”

“Ah yes. You look like the regular gold-digger”, agreed Mel solemnly. “Mikey. Calm down. Take a deep breath. Think about this thoroughly and think about how much he loves you. He wouldn't let his family dig in on you either. He'd defend you. And if he doesn't? Then, honestly, he's not the right man for you anyway. Because... you are an amazing man, Michael.”

“You're really good at mom-ing”, muttered Mike with a small smile, hugging his sister.

“I've momed you long enough, I'd think so”, grinned Mel, clinging onto him. “You'll be fine. And if you aren't, you call me, I'll drive out to Cathedral City and pick you up, okay?”

“Okay”, mumbled Mike, nodding against Mel's neck. “Thank you, you're the best.”

~*~

“...You went overboard, amore”, noted Matt with his eyebrows raised.

He regarded Mike, who was carrying a giant stuffed unicorn under one arm, a huge flower-bouquet in one hand and a bottle of expensive whiskey in the other. Matt shook his head amused.

“I just... want to make a good... first impression?”, offered Mike with a helpless shrug. “It's the first time I'm meeting your parents. And meeting the parents for the first time is... awful.”

“Awful?”, echoed Matt while the two got into Matt's car.

“Yeah. My high school sweetheart and I... meeting his family was not great”, muttered Mike.

“Tell me more about it”, prompted Matt. “We have a long ride ahead of us.”

“Okay”, groaned Mike. “So, Tony, he was... the most popular guy at my school? And he was from a rich upperclass kinda family? I was super awkward as a teen, I mean I was a jock – captain of the football team. Uh. Actual football, not that American nonsense.”

“You say that kind of stuff at home and uncle Andy may just kick you out”, warned Matt.

“Wait. Uncle? There are going to be more people?”, asked Mike distressed.

“Huh? Yeah? My parents and sister, my grandparents since they live together, but after they heard that I have a cute boyfriend I'm bringing over, my aunt and her family decided they'll come over for dinner too”, replied Matt with a shrug. “It's okay. It's just aunt Tammy, uncle Andy and my cousins Pippa and Tolly. You're going to be fine. Now tell me more about this Tony.”

“Uh, he actually moved to Los Angeles too?”, offered Mike and ducked his head. “Works as a barista in some cute little café. It's how Rick met his new girlfriend? Because we went to the café together – I... I swear there's nothing between us anymore, but we were really good friends in high school and it's... nice having someone from London close?”

“Babe”, laughed Matt and reached a hand out to pat Mike's thigh. “I'm not jealous. Everybody has a past. I'm your present. I'm asking because I'm curious and want to know more about you.”

“...Oh”, whispered Mike and nodded. “Okay, so Tony and I, we were like... the golden couple at high school and one day it was time for me to meet his parents. I was so nervous, I called his mother 'mom' instead of 'ma'am' and then I was too embarrassed to speak all evening and Tony, the absolute wanker, he of course had to be inappropriate and tease me and make out in his room just for his dad to walk in on us and I swear to this day, the smell of cigars kills every boner of mine.”

“Okay, I'll admit, that is...”, started Matt before he laughed.

Mike grumbled and curled in on himself a little bit. “I told you. I'm a disaster.”

“You're endearing”, countered Matt gently. “My parents are going to love you. My cousins are going to adore you because you're fun. Just... relax. Seriously.”

“What... What do I do with your grandparents? I mean. Your grandfather. Is he like... important? I mean...”, tried Mike before frowning. “I mean that I have no idea how... how things are handled in your... tribe and I don't want to be disrespectful.”

“Don't... call us a tribe”, offered Matt. “But yes, my grandfather is one of the eldest. Just... be polite, respectful and don't say anything dumb. I know you don't mean to say dumb things, I know for you from London all of this is something you only know from TV. If you have any knee-jerk reactions to say something, it's most likely better if you don't. Just... treat them like... people. Like anybody else. Like you treat me. I know it currently scares you that you're going to be... thrown into a whole new culture that you're not familiar with. The unfamiliar can be scary. But I'm here.”

“Yeah, you are”, sighed Mike and turned to look at him. “I love you.”

~*~

“Is he... Is he alright, Matteo?”

Matt drew his eyebrows together as he turned to properly look at Mike and see what was going on. When he put one and one together, all he could do was sigh with a fond smile.

“I think that he's unsure whose hand to shake first. If he shakes yours first, mom, he may insult dad, if he shakes dad's first, then it may look like he thinks the patriarchy is true and dad is in charge. So... he just... froze up”, offered Matt in explanation. “He's been overthinking everything about today. I didn't know a human could be this nervous.”

His mom made a soft cooing sound before she just pulled Mike into a hug. “Aren't you adorable? I'm Luca, that's my husband Giovanni. My parents Teddy and Simone, my sister Tammy and her husband Andy and their kids Pippa and Tolly. Now breath.”

Mike took a shaky breath. “Hello, ma'am. Thank you for having me.”

Luca smiled at him fondly and shook her head. Mike bit his lips as he properly looked around and looked at Matt's family. Giovanni was the only one white, his eyes the same shade of light-green as Matt's, his long hair put in a bun and a neatly trimmed beard framing his jawline. He had one arm around his daughter's shoulders. Marcella was a young teen, her dark hair in braids.

“So you're my brother's boyfriend, huh?”, asked Marcella with a pointed look. “Pretty boy, I guess.”

Mike made a high-pitched sound, while Matt's grandmother laughed. Simone was a very elegant elderly lady with nearly white hair, wearing golden jewelry and on-point make-up as she smiled at him. Her husband next to her looked more stern as he stepped forward and offered a hand.

“Thaddeus Lugo. You may call me sir”, stated the man.

“Teddy, don't give him the same treatment you gave me”, huffed Giovanni amused before turning to Mike. “Don't take him seriously. He's a good man. He's just trying to unnerve you. He did the same thing to me when I first got together with Luca. He really played up the stern dad.”

“What else am I supposed to do?”, grunted Thaddeus pointedly, glaring at Giovanni for a moment before focusing on Mike. “I had always hoped for a son to take over the family store, but I was gifted with two daughters instead. One who ran off to win the Olympics and the other who had to fall in love with a white man. Now, my grandson does the same.”

Mike swallowed hard, wishing he could just swallow his tongue. “I, uh, I--”

“Enough with the intimidation now, papa”, interrupted Matt's aunt Tammy. “Let's get the boys inside and get started on dinner, mh? Come inside and don't mind Teddy.”

“No respect for the elders anymore”, stated Thaddeus dryly. “You. You better treat my grandson right or I will send the spirits after you to enact my revenge?”

“Don't play a cliche to scare the white boy”, requested Marcella embarrassed.

Mike went to the car and grabbed their bags, though he couldn't help staring. Ever since Thaddeus had mentioned the Olympics, Mike was trying very hard to not stare at Tammy's leg. He had known the story, even before he had gotten together with Matt. Matt's aunt had been an Olympic sprinter but then she had lost a leg in a hiking accident, it had been what had made Matt dabble in prosthesis. Still. Mike knew it was rude to stare. He knew that.

“You coming?”, asked Tammy with a kind smile, knowing exactly what Mike was thinking.

~*~

Mike heaved a sigh as he collapsed next to Andrew and Giovanni. The two men were sitting outside and drinking the whiskey Mike had brought with him. Matt was inside, playing with his little sister and cousins and his grandparents, while his mother and aunt were watching 'their show'.

“Teddy was only messing with you earlier, you know”, stated Andrew casually. “He's given me the same treatment and he's known my family all of his life. It's not because you're white. He's just grumpy and protective, that's all. Don't worry about it. You'll grow on him.”

“As long as you treat Mattie right. And if you don't – well then my father-in-law will be the least of your problems”, pointed Giovanni out with a sharp smile.

“I would never, sir”, promised Mike hastily, shaking his head.

“Mh”, nodded Andy amused. “My nephew tells us you're a cop? One of the good ones, I hope?”

“Mattie sends me to save you!”, exclaimed Tolly, looking at Mike. “Come play with us!”

Tolly was four years old, with the largest, dark-brown eyes. He held his arms up for Mike to pick him up and Mike was happy to do so and escape even more of Matt's family trying to threaten and frighten him. The fact that both men started laughing when he went inside told him that at least it wasn't mean-spirited, it was just that the whole family were a bunch of sadists with odd humor.

“You gotta relax. This is day one of many”, noted Matt gently when Mike sat down next to him. “This is my family and dating me means you'll have to get used to them.”

“I'll be fine”, muttered Mike, leaning against Matt. “Either they'll kill me, or I'll be fine.”

“I like him. He's funny”, noted Marcella with a smile.

“Yeah, I like him too because he's funny”, grinned Matt, kissing Mike's cheek.

Mike made a small, miserable noise as grandpa Teddy glared viciously at him at that.

[idratherstayslytherin]

Feelings We Can’t Let Go (A Drarry Fic) CHAPTER FOUR

Summary: Harry needs to pass his NEWTs with a decent grade in Potions. The Ministry sends Harry to France so he can study for his exam with none other than Draco Malfoy, who has been blocked from Wizarding Society for almost a year now. It was supposed to be just a few months of tutoring, but it was so much more than that.

Read Chapter One HERE

Read Chapter Two HERE

Read Chapter Three HERE

Quick note: Posting re-edited chapter here and on ao3 again, because I want to improve my English and terrible writing. I hope you enjoy it!

This chapter was written partly by me and partly by my co-writer who isn’t helping me anymore, but still deserves the credit for huge part of it. You can find her AO3 HERE .  I added a bit of the text and re-written some parts that didn’t feel right or were ooc in my opinion, I also corrected grammar.

Do let me know what you think of it!

////////

“So, what are you planning for your holidays?” Ron asked, flopping down on the couch, butterbeer in his hand. It was one of those nights, when Ginny and Hermione were out with Luna and various other friends, leaving the house to the boys. They usually went out pubbing, after all it was Friday night and they didn’t have anyone to bother them about drinking too much (Hermione didn’t like it when Ron got too drunk, and would pester Harry as well, but he didn’t really pay attention to her, Ginny didn’t mind, so it was okay), but they decided to stay indoors and cook dinner together and drink butterbeer and firewhiskey and watch football (Ron initially wasn’t too keen on it, even though he did enjoy watching TV, it took him time to understand football and stop comparing it to Quidditch). And now Harry had hinted that he was going to go on holiday with Ginny in October, and suddenly Ron wanted to know everything. He always had cared about their relationship, which was a bit uncomfortable sometimes, but Harry had gotten used to it. “I don’t know, we’ll figure it out. It’s not like we have to do something always, we can just go for walks and visit places and enjoy being there” Harry shrugged. He didn't much care where would he want to go, but more about the company he got. If he truly enjoyed spending time with someone then even just sitting down in the cafeteria sounded great for him. He didn't much enjoy wondering around places full of people and reading about things he already knew about and wasn't interested in.   “When are you leaving?” “Two weeks to Monday.” “Do you think I should take Hermione somewhere too? I mean not somewhere expensive, just somewhere in the country or something.” “If you’d like to. I mean I suppose it’s a nice thing to do.” “You suppose?” “Yeah. You know I’ve never been on a proper holiday, I just thought it would be good before Gin starts training more seriously and I start working. Just to get away, you know.” Harry actually had no idea how the idea popped out of his head, it was just one of those sudden impulses he had, deciding he needed to spend more time with his girlfriend, and after finding an advertisement about trips to Spain, he booked tickets and a hotel without further ado. “But do you think Hermione would like it?” “I’m sure she would. For Merlin’s sake, she’s working at the Ministry, and she’s already stressed out about doing everything perfectly, I think a little break would do her good.” “But are you sure she’s a holiday-type girl?” Ron looked worried, but Harry couldn’t help but snort at this. “Holiday-type girl? Honestly, Ron. Just take her to some old library and to a museum and for nice walks around the city and she’ll be over the moon.” “Okay. Yeah, I guess she’d like that. Er… thanks mate.” Harry just nodded, lost in his thoughts. They sat in silence for a bit, sipping their butterbeers, Ron seemingly caught up in contemplating how he should ask Hermione where she wanted to go or something. Harry noticed that he was still really insecure about their relationship, even though they had been together for almost two years and engaged for three months. But they were happy, and that’s what mattered. And so was Harry with Ginny. Or at least Harry was happy to be with Ginny, and he wanted to prove it to her, hoping that he could. It’s not that she was angry with him, but she seemed to keep her distance, and often do things alone, and Harry knew it was his fault, he was the one who messed it up with not spending enough time with her. But he was positive they could work it out. “Are you getting engaged sometime?” Ron suddenly asked. “I… what?-” Harry wasn’t expecting that. He didn’t quite know why, after all his friends were already engaged and he and Ginny were together for even longer than them, even though they didn’t see much of each other during the war. “I-“ he stammered. “Yeah I mean I don’t know when or anything, but yes. I think. Yes.” “No rush, I was just wondering” Ron shrugged. “Yeah” Harry muttered, setting his empty butterbeer bottle aside, and pouring himself some fire whiskey, suddenly feeling like he needed it. He couldn’t explain why, the thought shouldn’t have scared him the way it did, he knew he was going to get engaged with Ginny and marry her and they would have children, it was his future and he knew it and he wanted it. Maybe it was just that he hadn’t quite imagined getting married so young. “Any plans for the next two weeks?” Ron’s words made him snap out of his daze, and he was thankful for it. “You mean apart from finishing my training and starting to study for the November exam so I can finally start as a curse-breaker from new year? No.” “I mean no spending whole days wandering around London with Malfoy?” Ron teased, making Harry tense up. “That happened once. Last week. I haven’t even talked to him since” he huffed. And it was true. He decided that he needed some time away from him, even though it was just a friendly Thursday together every week, somehow it was too much, and he wanted to concentrate on other things, like his curse-breaking training and being with Ginny. “Miss him?” Ron raised an eyebrow, grinning. Harry just scowled at him and topped his glass up with more fire whiskey. He didn’t want to have this conversation, and he was definitely not going to admit that in fact he did miss Draco. In a totally platonic way of course. He was nice company, and this week he spent Thursday evening indoors, reading and cooking on his own, which was a bit boring compared to the usual. But that’s all. And in the end the day was alright, because Neville came over after dinner. Fortunately Ron dropped the topic, and they carried on talking about all kinds of things, and ended up so drunk that they just laughed at everything, especially some muggle show Harry found after the football match ended (Manchester United won, but Ron seemed too pissed to care, even though they were his favourite team), before passing out. In the next two weeks things went back to the way they were in the summer, Ginny was friendly again and Harry spent all his spare minutes with her, apart from when he was with Ron or Hermione, and after talking to the latter for a whole afternoon about ‘feelings’, the thought of proposing to Ginny didn’t seem scary at all, and he knew he wanted to do it soon. He really did want it. This time made him realise that they already were his family, and getting married would only bond them in an official way, but what mattered was that they loved each other, which they did. And engagement was just the next natural step to take. As the sun rose on Monday morning, Harry and Ginny said their goodbyes, and after apparating to Portsmouth they took the ferry to Bilbao, from where they apparated again to Madrid, arriving right in front of the hotel Harry booked at sundown. Both of them were tired, the boat journey had been long, so they decided to spend the evening in the hotel room, only walking down to have dinner at the hotel’s own restaurant leaving all the sightseeing for the next day. The week passed quickly, it was full of colours and heat, museums and parks, restaurants and shops, a completely new and thrilling experience for both of them. They enjoyed visiting places, tasting the food and wine, listening to the music or just the people talking in a language neither of them understood, but found interesting. They enjoyed sitting around in parks in the sunshine, eating fresh fruit and listening to a nearby street musician playing. They enjoyed walking around in the balmy evenings, hand in hand, the air cooler than in the daytime, and carrying the scent of flowers. They enjoyed visiting the monuments, taking silly photos of each other in front of them. But most of all they enjoyed being together. It was so natural, so perfect, Harry wouldn’t have wanted it to happen any other way, and just seeing Ginny being so happy made his heart fill with warmth, and he decided he wasn’t going to wait any longer, he would buy an engagement ring as soon as they returned to London. “What is it?” Ginny asked with a smile, looking up at him from packing her suitcase, noticing that the boy had stopped, and was looking out of the window with an excited grin. “You’ll see” Harry assured Ginny, before going back to packing. Neither of them wanted to, but their ferry was leaving next morning, and as neither of them were morning people, it was best to do the packing in the evening before going out for one last night in the city. Harry quickly chucked his clothes into his suitcase, left some space for his wash bag, and placed the presents he had bought for his friends in the souvenir shop they visited the previous day. They bought pens and magnets and pendants and notebooks and all kinds of bits, along with loads of postcards, some of which they sent off, one to Ron and Hermione, one to Luna, one to Neville and Hannah and one to Molly and Arthur. And almost one for Draco, but Harry made his mind up in the last minute, and tore it to pieces and chucked it into the rubbish bin. He wanted to send him something, and had tried to write a letter to him, but after trying to decide on what he should write and scrapping at least ten versions, he gave up. He managed to write the postcard, just apologizing for not telling him that he would go away for a week, and in general apologizing for disappearing for exactly a month, and telling him about what they did, but just before they headed out to the post office, he lost his nerve and chickened out. But he did buy Draco a small pendant in the souvenir shop, even though he was pretty sure he would never give it to him.

After having Monday off, and spending the long weekend alone, in the company of books, Draco woke up early on Tuesday, as he always did on on his work days. This was something that came naturally to him, he never had trouble with early mornings, not even at Hogwarts, he was always the first one awake in their dorm, even without setting an alarm. He went straight to the shower, and was clean and dressed in his healer robes exactly twenty-three minutes later. At seven forty he was sitting at his kitchen table eating a hummus sandwich with two slices of tomato on top. Chickpea spread was one of those things he got used to eating over the summer, and something he enjoyed to eat along with vegetables and other healthier things, which was a huge change from the great big posh meals he grew up with at the Manor and at Hogwarts. It was much better than a full English breakfast or a sandwich with cheese or meat, it tasted nicer, and he felt fuller for longer. Sometimes he didn’t have much time to eat a well rounded lunch or dinner, his work tended to be extremely time consuming. There were always patients who required care at unexpected times, which meant that some days Draco had to grab whatever he packed beforehand  for that day as a snack and run down the hallway to help someone. He wasn't good at dealing with hunger, although he always was able to do his best at healing, but it was interacting with others that made things difficult. He already had a bit of trouble with people, he wasn't one to trust someone without really knowing them, and he could be really impatient. But even though he was trying his best, he decided it was better to be a good physical help than a good companion. One can save lives, the other, not so much. As he sat at the breakfast table finishing his meal, gazing out of the window while absentmindedly stirring his tea, he couldn't help but think back to his weekend, and the afternoons after work and the weekend before and so on, and how he rarely had company. He was used to dealing with his problems on his own, that wasn't what he minded, it was just knowing that he had someone to talk to that he missed. He missed looking forward to Thursday afternoons, and whether he admitted it or not, he missed Harry's company. Since parting ways over a month ago after their day out in London, the boy hadn’t given any sign of being alive, hadn’t stopped by Draco’s flat like he used to, he didn’t even write to him. Draco gotten used to having him around, talking to him, cooking, laughing, just the feeling of being with someone. However much he wanted to, he decided against owling Harry, he didn't want to make fool of himself, and seem like he depended on being in contact with “The Great Saviour”. If Potter didn’t want to contact him, it meant that he probably got bored with him, and was too much of a pussy to admit it. Which didn't surprise him, he had always expected him to leave after some time, it’s not like they were anything else, but enemies-turned to-people in the same place that tolerate each other-turned to-people enjoying each others company-turned to somewhat friends. If he decided that Draco wasn’t worth his time anymore, then be it. He wasn’t going be the one to apparate in front of prick’s doorstep and beg him to hang out with him. But this didn't mean that it hurt less. There was a time where he really thought he and Potter had a chance of becoming good friends. He even thought that at some point dark-haired boy wanted more than friendship, but that couldn't have been possible, Harry was a straight man, he could never want more than a friendly relationship. The bloke probably didn’t know what he was doing half of the time, he’s awkward with other people as well, that would explain why he was acting weird around Draco most of the time. Though, it still doesn’t explain what happened right before he left France. What happened on the beach. Draco was awake when Potter touched his lips to Draco’s cheek and kissed it lightly. Draco thought that he was going to explode at that moment, he felt like shivers running down his spine and his stomach did a weird twist. The whole situation made Draco confused, happy and sad at the same time. All his theories about Potter’s feelings towards Draco, the one that indicated that the boy was in fact attracted to Draco, made even more sense after that. And he actually believed it at the time. But Potter had a girlfriend and loved her, right? He never talked about her when they were hanging out, but Draco just assumed it was the other boy’s politeness. He probably never spoke about their meetings to his girlfriend either. Then again, why would he? He was straight. And Draco wasn't. He was attracted to men since his fifth year at Hogwarts, nevertheless he never got to explore his sexuality, because right after that year a certain monster moved to his house, giving him a mission that didn't leave him any spare time. Naturally this didn’t stop him from thinking about other boys at Hogwarts, fantasizing about them, but he never got further than the odd bit of kissing and groping with someone he didn't even know. And one of these boys he sometimes fantasized about was none other than Harry, who he found highly attractive in a strange way. So when he was left alone with the boy in France and had to spend time him, which led to the two of them getting to know each other better, he developed feelings for him, feelings he didn't know before. He liked being around Harry, he loved his smile, his laugh, his sense of humor and the way he held himself up. He admired Harry for what he went through and how he was still able to act like he was just a normal guy. He admired how he was able to put on a brave face even when Draco knew the other boy was scared deep down inside. He admired how he always smiled when people stopped him on the streets, crying and screaming of joy at the sight of him. He not once was impolite towards any of his “fans”, he listened to their war stories and agreed to give them his autograph. Draco knew the boy hated it, he told him so, but even if he hadn't, it was obvious once they got out of public eye. He looked tired and annoyed, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples and sighing. But he never complained, and he would cheer up quickly. He talked a lot, telling Draco about Quidditch results, or asking him about his day and work, right after. He made sure that Draco felt like he was important to him, or so Draco thought then. But now his days without Potter were filled with additional shifts at work, more muggle books, potion making and bottles of firewhisky. It became a routine, a way not to think of Harry Freaking Potter, who left Draco without any note or any explanation as to what this whole thing between them was, what their meetings had meant. But he accepted it, as there was no way he could change it, his pride and his courage always got in the way. He assumed this was Harry's way of getting back at him for not contacting him after the boy left France, which seemed fair, but just as bad. But all he could do was acknowledge it and accept it, and try not to think about it, instead thinking of the workday lying ahead.

Diagon Alley was empty compared to it's usual crowd of wizards and witches, which made Draco smile as he made his way past the shops, his gaze fluttering from shop window to shop window, enjoying the silence and peace. He wasn’t a fan of sweaty bodies of all kind rubbing against him, and he couldn't stand all the noise the people were making, making him internally scream "can everybody be quiet for at least an hour?!" Was it really that hard? His head always ached by the time he got to work. The chattering and laughing of the people would often still be ringing in his head when he started working, unnerving him on a daily basis. It wasn't just those things that made him want to hide from the society and never come back, it was also people who knew who he was. People who without thinking knew he was a Malfoy, Lucius's son. Draco didn't blame them for that, he did look like his farther, even more now with his long sliver-blond hair. People spat on him or made loud comments, or directed to him specifically; that were more than just rude, people loathed him. No one cared to look at one of the interviews he has done before he was hired in St. Mungos, no one cared about his whole story neither his apology, no one cares about the person he became, the slightly new Draco Malfoy he was trying to become; no one cared that he changed most of his ways and that he tried to redeem himself. No one, well no one except the boy who decided he didn't want to have anything to do with Draco anymore; so yeah, he had no one who would trust him or want him as a friend. Now that it was November and people were less willing to go outside for shopping, kids were still at school working hard, studying for their exams, and the streets of that popular alley were free of everything that annoyed Draco. Well, almost everything. Most of people hated this kind of weather, gloomy, rainy and somewhat depressing, but Draco loved it. Not only because it meant snuggling up in front of his fireplace at home and reading all of the books he bought, even though this was one of the main things he liked about cold weather. But he also liked how the air smelled after a rain, he liked how the autumn wind caressed his cheeks while he walked down the pavement, he liked how the trees looked garnished in yellow, orange, and red leaves; he liked the scent of freshly cooked warm meals and the aroma of pumpkin and spices coming from different houses or restaurants he passed by, making him want to melt right there and then. But as Draco was just right around the corner of St. Mungos, he heard high pitched female voices talking rapidly, in the exact style and tone that irritated him. He sighed. It seemed like not everyone despised the weather after all, and there was zero chance of him getting to work in peace. He turned his head to see where the sounds were coming from, and spotted a pair of young witches on the other side of the street, both of them possibly in their twenties, one of them clutching a folded newspaper in their hands, holding onto the other witch with her free hand, who was jumping up and down in excitement. “She’s such a lucky girl!” The witch with the newspaper shrieked. "So lucky!” The other one echoed, in awe. “Does it say when will the wedding take place?” “I don’t think so, but look!” The girl with the dirty blond hair pointed to something inside the paper she was holding. “I bet he must have paid a fortune for that!” she gasped. “And there is her name engraved on the ring!” Now the both girls screamed, smiling at each other. “I wish I was her, I bet I could make him feel good.” The brunette said with a dreamy sigh. “Last week’s Witch Weekly said he likes bossy girls in bed. I can do that.” She grinned, and Draco thought she looked almost evil. “Oh, you horny witch!” The other girl snorted, and poked her friend’s shoulder. “What can I say? And it’s not like you haven’t moaned his name when you were using your new gadg-” “Shhh! Someone can hear you!” The blonde witch shushed her, quickly glancing around, not even noticing Draco. “So?” The brunette shrugged. “I guess you are right, it doesn't really matter, no one but that Ginny Weasley will be having him exclusively to herself.” Draco felt like his heart missed a beat, and he froze. The witches kept on chattering, but he didn't even hear them anymore, his head was spinning and he was on the verge of getting sick. Of course, he had guessed who the witches were talking about, but hearing that last sentence out loud, like that was the final straw. His knees gave in, and he had to hold onto the bench next to him. Harry Potter was getting married. He was getting married to Ginny Weasley. And of course the prat would get her a ring with her name engraved on it. And of course everyone knew about it. And of course this was how he had to find out. After steadying his breath he got himself together, ignoring the odd looks from the witches, and staggered back in the direction he came from, calling in sick as soon as he got home, proceeding to flop down on his couch with a bottle of fire whisky in his hand.

“Why are you sad?” A girl’s voice echoed through the room. Draco absorbed in making a potion for her, didn't even bother to turn around, knowing that he had to concentrate and be careful, he couldn't mess up this solution. It was a medicine for the brain damage his patient suffered. She arrived at St. Mungo’s two weeks ago, the left side of her head had some kind of rod inside it, which cut through her skull. She was unconscious for a week, and the St. Mungo's staff wasn't even sure if she'd wake up. Draco and other healers, like Susan Bones, tried to remove it without causing any more damage, but it wasn't easy, the whole process took the group of five healers, including Draco, five long hours and in the last forty minutes of casting protection spells, preparing medication and getting the rod out of the skull, there was a moment when Appoline’s pulse stopped. Luckily one of the male healers, that Draco could never remember the name of, was quick with a spell that helped keep her alive. A week passed since Appoline woke up, crying uncontrollably the moment she opened her eyes. She wanted to get up and run away, but in this case luckily her legs weren't working quite as well as she had expected, so she didn't get any further than sitting up. She suffered a car crash, and her whole lower body was crushed by the seat in front of her, she couldn't even feel her legs, which made her cry even more. Fortunately Susan was patrolling the corridors just as she woke up, so she looked after the girl, calming her, telling her what happened. Draco had noticed that his colleague was good with kids He had no idea what she said, as he was only watching the pair of them from a distance, but Appoline soon stopped crying, and looked calmer, almost happy. He, on the other hand wasn't sure what to do or say, he had never been good at comforting people, especially when he wasn't too calm himself, so he just handed the girl the medicines she had to take, and left her bedside, carrying on with his job.

It had been a week since he found out about Harry getting married, and after staying home for two days in an angry and drunken haze, he realized he couldn't keep this going, so he got himself together, and occupied himself with working hard even after hours. He also might have sent some letters to Blaise or Theo, he could not remember. He didn't get any answer back, maybe it was for the best. Draco had been assigned as Appoline’s personal healer, seeing as he made a quite good progress in his work. He was able to prepare appropriate medication, and work with the girl on the therapy she required. He wasn't as emotional as some of his colleagues, which helped a lot, as he wasn't affected by the girl's mood swings, and knew how to handle her in a firm, but professional way. They even became sort of friends. They talked when Draco was in a good mood, he told her stories about his days at Hogwarts; omitting some delicate topics, of course. They played some games, but they spent most of their time arguing, during  the therapy sessions. “Why are you so inquisitive?” Draco sighed and faced Appoline, who was sitting on her bed and playing with her hands. For thirteen year old girl she had an extremely adult-looking face, which sometimes scared Draco. It reminded him of the way his mother looked at him when she knew he wasn't telling her something. But was he really supposed to tell his girl patient all about his personal life and why he was feeling like a piece of shit lately? No. “You look upset today, you haven’t spoken to me since you came here.” Appoline’s hand went to her remaining, short, brown hair, touching it in a manner that suggested that she was checking if she still had it. “I’m just tired." He sighed. "You don’t need to worry about me.” Draco moved closer to Appoline’s bed and handed her the potion. “Drink.” She looked at him with slightly squinted eyes and a smirk playing on her mouth. “No.” she shook her head. “You tell me - whaaaa- you tell me what’s stomping on your head and I’ll drink it then.” Draco understood what she meant, but still looked at her with a confusion. “Did I fuck it up? I knew something wasn’t right with that sentence, let me-” “Don’t swear, young lady!” Draco snapped, cutting her off. “ ‘Young lady’? ” Appoline snorted and grinned. “Anyways, you always swear, others do to, so why can’t I?” she crossed her arms and straightened herself on the bed. Draco did try not to swear in front of patients, but one or two times a simple “fuck” slipped out of his mouth. “Well, I’m an adult and you are a teenage girl, it’s not polite for a lady like you to swear. When I was your age it wasn't even allowed to say "bloody hell" , so just deal with not being allowed to say those words.” He knew it was an overdone and awful response, but he went with it anyway. “Now, stop your shenanigans and drink your potion.” He handed her the phial again. She still had her arms crossed and make “y-y” noise indicating that she wasn’t going to obey. “Very well, then lay here in pain and don’t even try to get better and cure your body and mind.” He placed a phial on the bedside table and walked away. “That’s not fair!” Appoline growled. “I always tell you if something it’s wrong with me.” “Well, you are obligated to tell me if something is is not okay with you.” Draco packed his other phials into his silver briefcase. “It's still not fair!” There was definite anger in her eyes, her brows were close to one another and the grimace she was wearing made her pretty face scrunch up. “You once said that friends are the people who tell each other if something is not right, I believed you.” She looked like she was about to cry, and she buried her face in her hands. "Appoline-” Draco stepped closer to her bed. “I’m an adult and sometimes, we, adults, don’t want to talk about certain things. I just had a bad night, or rather a week. I’m sure I’ll be fine if I eat something and sleep. Not telling you how I feel doesn't mean that we’re not friends.” He wasn't keen on telling anyone about his feelings, especially those involving one specific person, he just wasn't. It and that was too painful and unprofessional. He smiled at the girl. “Drink your potion.” “Are you sure about that? ‘Coz you know I- I - we play games and we talk and you help me a lot, .... so I thought we were friends.” She looked up, her pale, sea-green eyes shining. “I’m sure. Now, if you don’t drink it now, don’t even think I’ll come tomorrow for our weekly game of... how do you call it? Undo? Or was it Ono?” Draco started putting on his coat. “It’s called ‘Uno’, you dummy.” She laughed and uncorked the phial in her hand. She downed it in one take. Draco smiled at her, said his goodbyes and left the room. On the corridor he met Mr. Sullivan, who could always be found there. Mr. Sullivan was old, and had dementia, and was one of the favorites of most healers, he was completely harmless and always friendly. But that wasn't something Draco wanted now. He desperately wanted to be at home. Alone. “Oh, Draco, what a surprise!” The elderly man pulled Draco into surely the most body-crushing hug. “How nice to see you!” He lifted Draco off the floor, squeezing him so tight, he could hardly breathe. “Yhm- um.” was all Draco was able to get out. “Oh, right.” Mr. Sullivan said and put Draco back on the floor. “I’m sorry, I got a bit excited”. He looked embarrassed. “It’s okay.” Draco coughed a few times until he could breathe again. “Where are you going?” “To my mum, of course, she’s making pumpkin pie today, I wouldn’t want to miss it. You fancy coming with me? I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.” He invited Draco with a wide grin. He would "visit his mum" at least five times a week, and always felt inclined to bring a healer or another patient or anyone he found, with him. Usually it was just a trip to a one of the further rooms away from his, where the wards wouldn't allow him to pass. The healers would escort him back to his own room from there. Apart from the one time they found him in the reception area, telling some visitors he didn't even know about his mum, and how he was a visitor himself, he never caused any trouble. He usually was very kind and fun to be around. Draco sometimes found himself feeling sorry for him, he could not imagine himself losing his memory, although maybe it would cure him to forget all the bad things he has ever done, the things he replayed in his mind, or dreams, over and over.   “I’d love to, but you see, I have a lot to do at home, wouldn’t want to leave my potions unattended.” He usually played along, he didn’t have the heart to straight up tell the man that his mum was long time dead and he was still in St. Mungo’s, as a patient, not a visitor to his granddaughter. “Of course. Maybe next time.” He patted Draco’s shoulder. “Maybe next time.” Draco echoed, and walked away, informing one of the healers about Mr. Sullivan trip then he walked out of the Hospital building.

[hornsbeforehalos]

Anytime, Sweetheart: Part 6

Pairing: JDM x OFC (RPF)

Features: Ackles & Padalecki Families, R2, Misha Collins & Vicky Vantoch, Norman Reedus, Andrew Lincoln, Kim Rhodes, Briana Buckmaster, Ruth Connell, Corey Taylor and other cast members & OFCs* *THIS IS AN RPF FIC**

Series Masterlist Summary: (I’m horrible at summaries, but let me try): Kylin Ackles runs to her brother’s house after leaving her abusive boyfriend of 3 years, where she meets Jeffrey. Events unfold that bring them together, as well as push them apart.  Warnings: Emotional abuse, Physical Violence, mentions of rape, cursing, drinking, recreational drug use (weed), Strip Club, RPF, NSFW**, GIFs, implied smut, Age Difference, Slow burn, Emotional rollercoaster, poorly written smutt, etc… 18+ please

(A/N: This is strictly a work of fiction that I came up with off the top of my head. For fictional purposes his S/O & Son are not mentioned. I love him and his little family, though, so no hate intended. This is the first time posting anything on Tumblr, but I couldn’t get it out of my head since my ao3 fic is currently on hiatus because writers block. Feedback is appreciated. unbetaed, all mistakes are mine.)

TAGS: @jml509 @jesbakescookies @daddy-kink-confirmed @wayward-mirage

   The flight home was excruciating without Jeff there to hold my hand. It had been said that I was the female Richard Speight Jr. when it came to flying and no one, I repeat no one, had been able to top me. My panic didn’t even begin to fade until I was in the backseat of my Uber, almost halfway to the club, with my phone clutched to my ear for dear life waiting on Jeffrey to pick up the damn phone. 

    “What’re you doin’?” He answered with a thick drawl, smirk obviously playing on his face behind the other line.

    “Trying not to suffocate. Talk me through it. ” I gasped as his voice immediately slowed my breathing.

   "You’re on the ground, you’re alright, and you’re one the way home" he chuckled sincerely    "On the way to work, actually. They called me in early for a meeting about my promotion. Kinda freaking out here.“ I nervously looked out the window.    "Babe, its gonna be fine. Its not like they’re gonna fire you or something even if you dont get the promotion. Besides, who else is gonna take it?”    "Antoine. He’s been there for 6 years and barely got V.I.P manger “ I whined, throwing my head back into the seat with a huff. “He must be a shit head, then”    "It took him 90 seconds one night to talk someone I to giving me a thousand dollar tip because I have green eyes.“    "They’re the most beautiful green eyes in the world. I’d tip you a ‘G right now just to look at them.” Another chuckle grumbled through the line.    "Shut up.“ I mumbled back, searching the surroundings outside of the car as we pulled into the parking lot of the cabaret.    "Holy fuck stick. Andy’s here. Fuck. Fuck Fuck. I gotta go Jeff, I’ll call you back.” I abruptly hung up the phone, tipped the driver, and pushed myself out of the car to be greeted by Andy Kyle, the owner of the club, standing by the entry. He instantly turned to me and smiled widely, raising his eyebrows and grasping for my hands,    "Kylin! So great to see you! Thank you for coming in so early, I had an unexpected flight to catch. I hear you just left the airport yourself,“ He smirked, eyes dancing over my messy pig tails, sweatpants and Heartagram hoodie.     I gave a nervous laugh back as we started to walk towards the door, "Yes, sir. Sorry about look like a slouch,  I was in New York visiting a friend.”      "Lovely, dear. So why didn’t you tell us before that we had a celebrity working here? We could have marketed it!“ He laughed a jolly laugh as he held the door open for me to step inside.       He unlocked the side door that lead to the General Manager’s office, and gestured for me to take a seat. Seeing us arrive, Andrea quickly popped her head into the office through the door leading from the club floor, "Need anything, Mr. K? Ky?”      "Whiskey for me, please, ‘Dre” I smiled wearily at her. I needed the hair of the dog if I was gonna get through this.       “Same for me, please. Bring us my bottle, though, please.” Andy smiled, sitting behind his desk and returning his attention to me.      "So, Kylin Ackles. Why didn’t I ever make the connection before? My wife loves your brother’s show.“ He beamed, clasping his hands in front of him on the desk top.     “Errr….I don’t really tell anyone. I don’t make it a secret but I don’t really live for the whole brother’s coat tails scenario.” I habitually bit my lip in nervousness and looked at my hands in my lap.      "Well, you better get used to the attention, now that you’re dating Negan,“ He barked, leaning back in the comfortable office chair.      I rolled my eyes, ’of course he saw the article.’ "I… hadn’t really thought about that.” I cocked my head to the side, looking at him as Andrea reappeared with our drinks.      "Let’s get down to business, shall we?“ He cleared his throat and we both thanked 'Drea, her giving me the thumbs up before closing the door behind her.      "You’ve worked here for how long?” He asked, lifting some paperwork out of a folder and rummaging through it. “About 4 months, sir.” I answered, suddenly feeling twitchy again.      "Hmmm, do you know, that in four months, you have increased liquor and champagne sales by almost 70%?“ He narrowed his eyes at me before returning them to the papers in front of him.      "Uh, no sir, I did not. I’m sure that couldn’t be just me.” I felt myself blush as I took a sip of my glass with a shaky hand.      "Nope, I had John go through everyone’s percentage twice just to be sure. That’s really all you. How do you do it?“ He took a sip of his own.      "I have no idea” I chuckled, looking down at the drink in my hand, “I just take care of your customers, sir.”     “And you do a fine good job of it. Now, I know John and Antoine filled you in on the situation with Eddy, right?” He rested his elbows on the table and clasped his hands below his chin. “Yes, John’s getting dance manager and you’re needing someone for dining.” “Correct.” he chuckled, “No secrets around here, huh?” “Not usually, ha.” I giggled, relaxing a bit.      "So, you up for it? Walking around in a suit like one of the big boys?“ He barked a laugh and tossed his head, leaning back in his seat with a clap.    "I’m sure it’s nothing that I can’t handle.” I giggled again, shaking my head while taking another sip.     “I do have a condition, though” he cleared his throat as he straightened himself. My eyes narrowed suspiciously.    "I’m not going to fuck you.“ I blurted out, remembering stories I’ve heard of these situations before.      "What? No! God no! My wife would kill us both.” He laughed nervously, “What I want to do is throw you a promotion party, but you would have to bring the guests, if you know what I mean.” And here it was, the reason I never told anyone about who my friends were. I sighed.      "I’ll see what I can do, and get back to you tomorrow, okay?“ I pulled out my phone so he could enter his number and send himself a text from me, "No promises, though, convention season’s starting and it’s always Hell.”    "Deal!“ He shouted, standing up to shake my hand enthusiastically. I almost immediately regretted it when I realized that meant having to convince everyone to come.    "Fuck my life” I muttered under my breath as I shook his hand before heading to the dressing room. 

     Of fucking course the moment I walked into said dressing room every single dancer, waitress, bartender and even the house mom’s eyes were burning into my flesh.      "Hey, ladies…what’s up? I got something on my face?“ I began awkwardly rummaging through my backpack for my change of clothes, face growing hot.      "Well, that depends, dear, did you let him nut there this morning?” The old gray hair woman sitting behind her desk giggled, bringing a long red finger nail to her lips. I rolled my eyes at her vulgarity, “Jesus, Mom, I do have some dignity.”      "Well? We all saw the pictures. You know we want details.“ Cali exclaimed, crawling up on the makeup counter lining the wall, a dreamy look in her eyes,    "How big is his dick? I bet Negan has a big dick.” She looked to one of the other girls who nodded enthusiastically.    "I didn’t sleep with him, God!“ I threw my head back and closed my eyes, "Ya’ll are all whores.” Everyone just basically blinked at me. “I hate ya’ll. All ya’ll.” I shook my head as I pulled off my shirt.      "Wooooo-weeeeee, there it is ya’ll! The evidence!“ Andrea shouted, poking my cleavage that spilled over the top of my bra.       I looked down at my chest to find a dark red hickey lingering on my skin. I sighed, remembering how it got there with a smirk on my face before snapping out of it and bringing my face back to the people around me, "I didn’t sleep with him, okay!? We just….made out on his couch.” I sighed again. “How the fuck old are you again, bitch?” Cali cackled. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”     I pulled my work shirt on over my head, adjusting it correctly to hide the mark, then switched my baggie sweatpants for my tight blue jeans. I brushed my hair out from under the beanie and was applying my makeup when my phone buzzed in my pocket.    "Oooo, I bet it’s lover boy” the house mom cooed, giggling like a woman a quarter of her age.    I rolled my eyes as I looked at the screen, “It’s just my brother, keep your panties on.” “I’d take mine off for him, too!” I heard Cali shout from her locker. “What the fuck was that?” Jensen laughed, having heard Cali through the line.      "Your adoring fans at my job have discovered who I am. I hate you.“ I replied, coating my eyes with liner.    "You’re the one who was eye fucking Jason Crouse at the airport.” he retorted. “Fuck all ya’ll.” I repeated, loud enough for everyone and him to hear. “So, I see you made it home in one piece, sister. How was your trip.” He teased. “Lovely, thank you.” I said as I lined my lips with a dark red pencil. “Good. Keep it in your pants?” He asked bluntly.      "God, I. Hate. All. Ya’ll!“ I exclaimed again, “No, brother, No ladies, No everyone. I did not. fuck. him. Jesus fucking Christ!” I threw the pencil down in defeat. “Okay, okay, I get it. Getting enough Hell there, I see.” He cackled.      "Jared with you? I have a favor to ask you and the wives.“ I changed the subject to more important issues. "Yesss,” He hissed, “What do you want now? Money?” “I bet she killed someone!” I could hear Jared scream behind my Jensen.      "Neither. I’m getting a promotion.“ I inhaled sharply before continuing, "And the owner wants ya’ll there for my promotion party. That’s the stipulation to me getting it.” I exhaled and cringed, waiting on his reply. “Hmmmm. Will he be there?” he being Jeffrey, I knew. “Maybe.” I said with a tone of suspicion in my voice.      "Okay, I’ll do it. Jare, you in?“ He said simply, then continued, "Jarebear says he’s in. Let me know when and we’ll rally the forces for you.” I could hear the smile in his voice and it brought one of my own to my face.      "Thanks, bubs. I kinda love you now.“ I giggled before hanging up the phone and breathing out a sigh of relief. One phone call down, one more to go about all this.      It was decided that I’d wait to call Jeff and ask until after work that night, seeing as the moment I stepped behind the bar I was engulfed in orders and issues that lasted until the lights came on. I was thankful as hell that 'Drea had offered to give me a ride back home so I didn’t have to worry about waiting on a 2am creepy Uber driver, or even worse, a disco-ball clad taxi driver with crazy eyes. Of course on the way home, though, Andrea made it a point to make me spill every detail about my weekend, swooning over it like it was the greatest love story ever told.    "It’s not that serious, girl.” I snorted at her googly eyes as she pulled into my parking lot.    "To Hell it’s not, that man is gorgeous.“ She giggled, reaching over the console to give me a hug.    We said our good nights and I let myself in, crashing into bed before stripping off my jeans and bra with a grunt. I was having thoughts about just calling Jeff in the morning as I drifted off for a moment before my phone rang, displaying his picture.    "Hmmmm,” I answered, rutting around to find the comfiest position in my blankets. “Sleepy, little one?” came his raspy voice into my ear. “Mmmhmmm, tonight was hell. I got the promotion, though, I think.”    "Oh yeah? Well that’s good baby doll. Why do you only think you got it, though?“ He questioned sweetly.    "Well, actually, I was gonna call you in the morning, but…” I trailed off as a yawn took me over. “What?” he chuckled.    "He wants to throw me a promotion party, you see.“ I yawned again, rubbing my eyes with my free hand. "You or the club?”    "Both, I believe. Anyway, think you can make an appearance for me?“ I held my breath while waiting for his answer.    He took a moment, either to actually think about it or tease me, I’m still not sure, "Of course.” I exhaled a sigh of relief, “Thank you, God” “Most people just call me Jeff, hun” He let out a raspy chuckle. “Thank you, Jeffrey.” I mumbled, beginning to drift off again, “Anytime, Sweetheart,” Another chuckle, “Get some sleep.”   “Night, Mr. J, love you.-” I was already asleep by the time the last words mumbled through my lips.

     I woke up that next after noon around 2:30, feeling refreshed after the much needed  sleep. I stretched my arms over my head and checked my phone as I walked to the bathroom. I sent Andy a text letting him know that I had succeeded in my task for him and that I would figure out a date that everyone could attend while I brushed my teeth, then turned on the hot water and letting the bathtub fill before adding my favorite bubbles. 

   I had just slipped into the steaming water when my phone rang. I grumbled as I leaned over to get it from it’s place on the floor. 

Of course, it was Jeffrey. And it was a video call. 

   I adjusted myself to where the bubbles were covering anything important before clicking the 'accept’ button and watching it flash to a visual of him sitting on his couch.    "Well hello there, bubbles.“ he grinned, biting his tongue with his teeth. I cocked an eyebrow at him, "may I help you, sir?”     “Oh, yes, doll, I’m sure you could help me…."he rasped, eyes darkening as he watched the bubbles move around my chest gently.       I placed my forearm over my breasts to shield them from his view, even though my arm barely covered my nipples as they squished down against my chest, to prop my phone up on the bathtub shelf in front of me. I kept my arm over me as I dipped back into the water, knowing he would have a better angle to see everything if I wasn’t careful.      "Damn doll, you made me forget why I even called you.” he shook his head at me while wiping his face with his hand, causing me to giggle.      "I’ve been known to have that affect, I suppose.“ I waded the fingers of my free hand through the water teasingly, suddenly feeling bold, "What can I do you for, Mr. Morgan?”      "So formal, hmmm. You’re fucking dangerous, doll. Why don’t you move that arm while I try and remember?“ He growled, licking his lips as his eyes got impossibly darker.      I smiled coyly, "Nuh-uh. I’m not letting the first time you see me naked be over some bad quality cell phone screen.” I dipped further down into the bubbles.      Jeffrey pouted, hunching his shoulders, “Fine. But I'mma get you, little girl, just you wait.” he shook his index finger at the camera and I giggled back.      "So when’s this party they’re throwing you?“ He asked after clearing his throat to retrieve his composure.      "Probably not till the end of the month. The house mom, Judy, is throwing it and she goes all out with everything.” I rolled my eyes at the memory of my birthday party they’d thrown me. Glitter everywhere. He pouted some more and whined, “And I have to wait until then to see you?”    I barked out a laugh at him, dipping my head back into the water, “Please, like it’s that difficult.”    "It’s that difficult.“ he stated in a husky tone, narrowing his eyes at me. I rolled mine. "Whatever.”    "You whatever, Missy” he pointed at me again, eyebrows still furrowing, “I don’t get you. You don’t see how absolutely amazing you are, do you?    "I’m not amazing.” I snorted, looking away from the screen and down to my toes on the other side of my phone. I tapped them on the edge of the tub, creating ripples in the water. “Yes, you are.” “I’m a bartender with-” I began, but he cut me off,    “Damnit, woman, listen to me!“ Jeffrey rasped, tone of voice and face firm, obviously annoyed.    Purely on an instinct that had been locked away for half of a year, I dropped my eyes and squeaked out, “Yes, sir.”    Jeffrey’s face instantly hardened more, but with a different purpose now, “Aye, none of that bullshit with me. None of it. It’s one thing to kid around but I will never treat you like that. You’re an amazing person and you deserve to be treated and reminded as such.” He nodded his head for punctuation before continuing, “Don’t think I didn’t google you, Ms. Random Acts.”     I instantly blushed and looked away again, “It’s really nothing, I just helped with it. A long time ago.”      "You helped Misha and his friend put together the entire fucking thing and it’s just 'nothing’? What did that fucker do to your head, baby girl?“  He shook his head again, looking like he was wishing he could hug me.      "I…I don’t know, Jeff. Lot’s of shit.” I finally brought my self to look back into the phone, attempting to keep my tears in their ducts with a shaky breath, “It’s been forever now but I still feel like some of the shit he said or did was deserved. I told you I was fucked up.”       “Baby girl, I know you’re fucked up. Hell, I’m no picnic, either. But you need to understand that the things you’re capable of, and the things you’ve done are awesome. Look at you, your life now. You got away from that skeezeball and are actually improving your life. You’re gonna get that awesome promotion and be able to take more time off to do other shit you used to be able to. I’m sure Collins still needs help, especially with the whole Gishwish thing.” “Gishwhes.” I corrected.    "Whatever,“ He sighed, knowing I was cracking, "You know what I meant and you know it’s true. Stop selling yourself short.” “I am short.” I quipped quickly.    Another glare and a sigh from him, “I guess I’m just going to have to remind you every single day from now on how beautiful you are, how smart you are, and how absolutely amazing you are, huh, little one?” He cocked his head with a smirk. My face grew even redder as I rolled my eyes again to attempt to hide it.    "I suppose. Now what did you want?“ I said, hoping to turn the attention back on him and change the subject again.    "Sooo…."He began, scratching at his jawline for a moment, "I know it’s early, but I was wondering what you would be doing for Valentines day.” I cocked an eyebrow at him suspiciously, “That’s over a month away, hun”    "Just trying to figure out a plan, here, dear.“ He stuck his knuckles under his jaw to hold his head up. "Probably working.” I replied, swishing my hand through the water. “Think you could get off for like, a week?” He cringed in hopefulness. “Probably not, not with the promotion and all.” I sighed. “Shit. Okay. Maybe a weekend?” He tried again, rubbing his beard.    "Possibly. When and Why?“ My eyebrow was still cocked as my eyes narrowed again    "Weekend before Valentines day we have a convention in New Orleans. Figured we could spend the week there after your party,” He looked down with an almost shy expression on his face, “But I"ll take the weekend while I do the con if it’s all I can get.” He looked back to me with a crooked smile. I smiled back, “I will see what I can do, Mr. Morgan.”    His smile widened and shone brighter “Okay, doll. Look’s like you’re getting pruny, I’ll let you go.” He wagged his eyebrows and let his eyes glance downward to my now bubble-less chest that was still covered by my arm. I bit my lip to muffle my giggle, “Bye, Mr. J.” “Talk to you later, Ms. Ackles.”

   Two weeks later and we had finally gotten everything figured out for my party. It would be the first weekend of February, and Jeff would  fly in on Friday morning and stay until we drove to New Orleans the following weekend. I was still working behind the bar but could definitely feel the responsibility starting to weigh as the girls all looked to me more while John was busy with training for the new position they gave him. Thankfully under my leadership we all worked like a well oiled machine, and nothing ever got out of hand or more than we could handle.    That was until I was mixing drinks one night when a familiar voice spoke up from behind me. A familiar, dreaded voice. 

   "Being a movie star’s whore still got you slinging drinks, huh, Kylin?“ the venomous words flicked themselves down my back as I spun around to face him.    "What the fuck are you doing here, Anthony?” I seethed, eyes narrowing while I subconsciously backed away from him into the counter in front of the mirror.    "Came to see what all the hype is about” He gestured around with his beer bottle. “They say John Winchester’s little bitch works here, figured I’d check it out.” He chuckled, taking a sip.    "Get the fuck out of my bar.“ I spit, my hands shaking as they clutched the counter.    Seeing my demeanor, John walked up beside me and put his hand on my shoulder, “Everything alright?” his voice was rough and his jaw had tightened.    "Everything’s fine, I’ll be going.“ Anthony winked as he tossed a 20 on the counter.    Once he was lost in the crowd, I turned to John, "Stay beside me the entire fucking night. I don’t want you out of my sight. Please.” Tears ran down my face as he pulled me into his chest, his broad shoulders and thick arms swallowing me whole. John was a huge, massive man, toned by years of body building but had the sweetest heart for any woman he ever met. I had mentioned to him briefly before that my past relationship wasn’t anything but horrible, so I’m sure he could gather what was going on. He verified as much when he gruffly asked, “That was the douchebag, wasn’t it?”    Sighing while nodding into his chest, I confirmed. “Yeah. That was him.” The rest of the night went fine, but I was still shaky when the lights came on and everyone had left. I cleaned the bar quickly and asked John if he could escort me out to my car.    "Of course, come on” He had said, extending a chivalrous arm out for me to take.    The cold January air swept over us as we exited the doors and headed towards the back of the parking lot where I had parked. We had almost gotten to my car when suddenly John was smacked over the head with a baseball bat, hard enough to knock him unconscious immediately.    I tried to let out a scream as Anthony’s hand pushed against my mouth “Shhhh, now, whore. Shut the fuck up.” He growled,      His other hand dropped the bat and enclosed itself around my throat until I lost my breath and couldn’t scream. He then applied both hands to my neck and squeezed until black stars appeared. I attempted to gasp for breath and call out for help but I couldn’t make my voice come. Anxiety was rippling through me as suddenly everything went black.

   I woke up twelve hours later in a hospital bed, John beside me with his head in his hands. His shoulders were shaking up and down as soft sobs came from him.    "Joh-“ I tried, but my voice cracked and rasped and wouldn’t elevate above a broken whisper.    His head immediately shot up, “Oh my god, Ky, oh my God! Thank God. Thank God.”    He raised himself out of the chair and rushed over to me, grabbing my hand. “He came out of nowhere, God, I’m so sorry Kylin, I’m sorry. You ask me to-” He broke down, falling to his knees at the side of my bed.    Suddenly the door came flying open and in ran Jensen, “Kylin.” He breathed, moving to the opposite side of the bed as John.    "Hey,“ came my meek reply, looking up to him as he tried not to break down as like John.    "It was him, wasn’t it? Anthony?” Jensen looked to John instead of asking me.    John simply nodded, finally raising his tear-streaked face from where it had been buried in the side of my bed.    "He came out of nowhere with a bat, I didn’t even get a chance-“ He broke off again, looking up to me with tears in his eyes, "I’m so sorry.”    The doctor came in shortly after to check on my vitals. She had a sympathetic look on her face as she explained my injuries.    "You have a slight case of petechia, some busted blood vessels in your eyes, but nothing too serious there. The concern we’re having is with your cervix. It looks like we need to prep you for emergency surg-“ I cut the lady off before she could finish,    "Ce-ce-cervix? How could he have- Oh god.” bile instantly rose to my mouth and I heaved over the side of the bed, vomit splashing on my brother’s shoes as I made the connection.    "I’m so sorry, Ms. Ackles. It appears that he also wore a condom, so we haven’t been able to take a DNA sample.“ I felt the bile rise in my throat again but was still slightly relieved there would be no chance of being pregnant by him. I simply nodded and turned to face my brother, who was seething. "I’m gonna kill him. No one does that. No one rapes my fucking sis-”

“He did what?” came the coarse voice from the door that I would recognize anywhere.     Jeffrey walked into the room to stand beside John, who was still kneeling beside the bed.      "I’m gonna go,“ John whispered, then stood up and brought a hand to my forhead to brush my hair back before kissing me there. I cringed at the touch and felt bile rise from my belly again.      "I’m going to let work know you won’t be in for a while. Don’t worry about anything, Ky.” He assured me before slipping out of the room past the doctor. I couldn’t meet Jeffrey’s eyes as he assumed the same position that John had been in, reaching for my hand that I jerked away from him.    "Shhh, sweetpea, It’s okay. Everything will be okay.“ he cooed, patting the bed beside my hand.    "Gentlemen, I’m going to have to ask you to wait in the waiting room while we prep her for surgery.” The doctor spoke softly as the men both turned to her. “I promise she is safe” She reassured them.    Jensen leaned down and kissed my forehead, listening to my whimper with tears in his eyes, whispering “I’ll be right here when you get out. We both will” He looked to Jeffrey before making his way to the door, grasping the older mans shoulder as he moved past him.    Jeffrey stared at me for another moment, his own tears spilling over and into the creases beside his eyes. He sniffled before wiping his face with his palm, “God, baby, I’m not leaving you. I’ll be right here. Okay?” He searched my eyes with a tilt of his head, and I responded with a nod.    I zoned out while the doctor and nurses explained to me the procedure, nodding my acknowledgment and scribbling my name across the consent forms. I was grateful when the anesthesiologist entered the room to put me under. Part of me wished I’d never emerge.

   I was released from the hospital two days later with a 'clean bill of health’ besides the obvious emotional trauma, for which they gave me packets upon packets of information on. I knew better than to give the police Anthony’s name when they asked, removing the risk of it getting to the tabloids and further exposure. Jensen had assured me that he knew people who would take care of it. I still hadn’t spoken or allowed any of the men to touch me after a week.    Jensen and Jeffrey never left my apartment and Jared had brought Gen and Dani up while he took care of the kids. Both of the women whom I call my best friends never left my bed unless to go to the bathroom or call their children. Even when Jeffrey would come into the room and sit at the foot of the bed and stare into my blank eyes while whispering sweet things, they never left, would just lay there with me listening while stroking my hair.     Andy though it best to postpone my promotion until after I was able to get back to work, but left a message with John that I was allowed all the time in the world that I needed and that my spot at the club would always be there. John came by twice the first week and had hushed conversations with Jeff and Jensen in the living room while I would doze off with the girls. Another week had past before I was finally able to will myself to speak.    Dani had come back from taking a shower while I napped with Gen, she was wrapped in my cotton robe as she crawled back into my bed, whispering a hello. “Hi.” I peeped, voice almost inaudible after weeks of not speaking.    I sat up in the bed with her help, rousing Gen from her nap at the same time that Jeff and Jensen entered the room.    "Looking better already, sister” Jensen beamed, receiving a weak smile from me in return.    Jeffrey stayed standing in the doorway silently, gauging my reaction to his presence. I managed a small smile in his direction and he pushed himself off the door jamb to step closer. I looked up to Jensen and then back to Jeff, trying to figure out my own emotions. 

“I’m sorry.” was the only thing I could think to say.

“For what, baby doll?” Jeffrey asked, tilting his head in confusion. “I…’m not tryna push you away…I just…” I choked out    Jensen immediately was at my side, kneeling beside Danielle, who was stroking my hair silently.    "No, sissy, I get it. It’s fine. That’s why I got the girls here.“ Jensen huffed, fighting back tears.    He lifted his hand off it’s place on Dani’s hip for a moment like he wanted to brush my hair back or something, but quickly put it back down with a pout of his lip. Jeffrey had finally managed to step to the foot of the bed, and kept his arms crossed in front of him with his shoulders slouched. It looked odd, him trying to appear smaller, less intimidating, but I gave him another small smile, knowing he was trying for my benefit.      Jensen looked from me to Jeffrey and gave a small sigh before returning his gaze to me. He gave me a nod, then lifted up off the floor and walked towards the door, a hand on Jeffrey’s shoulder for a moment before exiting the room. Danneel and Gen moved to get up as well but I couldn’t stop from grabbing their hands and whimpering.      "No, no, it’s okay girls, stay, she needs you both.” he choked back a sob and held his hands up, signaling them to not to move as a tear spilled over. They both hunkered back down into the blanket with me, snuggling close. My nerves instantly calmed and I was able to meet Jeff’s eyes finally.      We just stared at each other for a moment, his eyes kind and caring, mine hurt and scared.    "Mind if I sit, beautiful?“ He asked, voice low and cracking as he tried to regain himself.      I weakly nodded, moving my legs up closer to my chest to give him more room as the girls scooted themselves up as well. They both moved their arms around me in a protective embrace, even though we all knew I wasn’t in any danger.      Jeffrey gently perched himself on the edge of the mattress, looking down to his boots for a moment with a sigh. He craned his head back around to search my face, eyes glistening again.      "I’m sorry,” he said finally, swallowing hard to fight the tears, “I should have been there.”    "Its not your fault, Jeff,“ it was Danneel who spoke, a sad tone of her voice as his eyes flicked to her, “None of us can beat our selves up over it. No one did anything wrong” she turned to face me as she stroked my hair and repeated, “No one”.    Jeff and I nodded in unison, her words being true. He brought his eyes back to me and leaned back on his forearm, “I will be here for you, baby doll, anything you need.”    I mustered the ability to lean forward, reaching for his hand that he immediately outstretched once he realized my intention. It felt nice to feel his skin again, and I smiled weakly at the sensation. “Thank you, Jeffrey.” “Anytime, sweetheart.”

   Another week had past and I was feeling more at ease. The girls and Jensen finally had to leave, Jared going crazy with the kids and both him and Jen had multiple commitments and appearances. Jeffrey had insisted that he cancel his appearance in New Orleans, not feeling bad in the least, unlike me.    "Don’t feel bad, darlin’, you’re more important.“ He assured, his long frame stretched out along the length of the bed at my feet, "I need to make sure you’re okay” “I’m almost fine,” I smiled, sitting up to cross my legs and scoot closer to him, “Almost.”    "Anything I can do to help?“ He asked, looking up at me from where he was propped up on his elbows. I shook my head.    "I need to get out of this house for a bit. I’ll be back.” I said, removing my self from the comfort of my sheets.      Jeffrey didn’t say anything as he watched me disappear into the bathroom for a shower, reemerging in a pair of jeans, tank top, & flannel. He was still silent as I grabbed my keys and coat and exited the house, leaving him there by himself.    I drove around aimlessly for about an hour, before pulling into the salon. Three hours later, I exited the building with my nails done, sharp black claws once again, and my blonde hair had been dyed a vibrant shade of lavender. Feeling the affects of the champagne I’d been drinking, I allowed myself to smile at my appearance for the first time in a long time while I eyed myself in the rear view mirror as I made my way back to the house. 

   I didn’t realize how intoxicated I was until I was attempting to unlock my front door and couldn’t figure out which key was which. Jeff must have heard me failing miserably because he opened the door with a questionable look. 

“What in the hell?” He asked, eyes wide at the sight of me.

   "Well Hello, Mr. J!“ I exclaimed with a wide smile, pushing myself through the door way and into his arms, causing him to back up. "What’re you doing, Ky?” He shook his head with a worried expression on his face, “Are you…” he leaned in slightly and sniffed around my face, “drunk?” “Apparently. Champagne at a salon seems to be stronger than champagne at famous LA parties, don’t you think?” I giggled, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I suppose so.” He chuckled, his long arms snaking around my waste to help hold me up, “What did you do to your hair?” “Oh! ha! I almost forgot! Silly me! Do you like it?” I stepped back from him to primp my hair like a woman from the 50’s. “I like it, so it doesn’t really matter, but it would be nice if youuu liked it, Mr. J.” “It’s…different.” He gulped, still unsure of my actions. “You don’t like it,” I pouted, pulling away further and turning my back to him so I could walk in the living room while pulling off my jacket. “Now I never said that.” He replied, trailing into the room behind me. I spun around and smiled at him coyly, tossing the coat on a chair, “So you do?” He smiled, eyes glittering with fondness “I do. It suits you. Why the change, though, doll?” “I needed it. Needed to be different for a moment. Feel myself, ya know?” I walked to the liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of wine and poured my self a glass while Jeffrey watched.   “You know what I want now, though, Mr. Morgan?” I asked, voice low and raspy as I let a Cheshire smile curl across my lips as I sauntered towards him slowly.    He gulped again as he watched me take a long sip of the red wine before placing it on the nearest table, my eyes never leaving his. I approached him, wrapped my arms around his neck again and stood up on my tip-toes as I gazed into his eyes. “What’s that?” He asked as I felt his hands grip my waist nervously. “You.” I breathed before planting a sloppy open mouthed kiss on his neck.    Jeffrey froze, and his eyes went wide. His fingers tightened on my hips, and a small gasp escaped his lips. “Baby girl,” He mumbled before gently pushing me away, “No.”    Alcohol infused disappointment wretched itself into my body. Into my mind. I stepped away from him, tears springing instinctively to my eyes. “You don’t…want me.”    "That’s not it at all, baby doll, and you know that” His voice was low but stern. I glared at him, disappointment and rejection turning to rage and hate. “You don’t want me because I’m used up, huh? Don’t want to fuck a girl who gets her self raped?”

Shock crossed his face and he immediately shook his head, “No, sweet heart, I-”    "Fuck you, Jeffrey.“ I cut him off, seething as I crossed my arms in front of my chest while he took another step forward. “You’re drunk babe-”    "Like that’s ever stopped you before,“I scoffed, rolling my eyes, "If I remember correctly you got me liquored up on New Years just so you could touch me.” “You know that’s not what hap-”    I couldn’t stop myself from shoving him by the chest, hard. He stumbled back a moment and knocked into the wall, “Kylin,” he growled in warning, starting to get frustrated

   "What are you gonna do, huh, big guy? What are you going to do?“ I yelled, shoving him again. He knocked into the wall so hard this time that a picture near by fell to the floor. He tried to go for my wrists but I twisted them away from him and without thinking smacked him across the face as hard as I could, my sharp claws scratching his face. 

   "This gonna make you feel better? Being a bitch?” he grunted, brows furrowing in frustration as he pushed himself off the wall while bringing his finger tips to his face.

   "Fuck you, Jeffrey. Fuck you. You know what I need? I need to feel fucking normal again. I was actually starting to feel normal for a second there, but of course that was all in my fucking head, right? Kinda like the idea of you actually wanting me. Of anyone ever wanting me.“ I clenched my teeth as I seethed, tears streaming down my face as I started for my bedroom.    "You’ve gone through a traumatic experience, Ky, I’m not going to allow you to do something you regret just because you’re drunk.” He followed me into the room where I whipped around and glared at him. If looks could kill, he’d be exploding.    I huffed out a mocking laugh, “Ha! That’s right, don’t allow me to do anything stupid! Don’t allow me to do anything at all! That’s what everyone does, right? not allow me to do anything. I’m too stupid to make my own decisions, right? Right?!” I screamed, throwing everything off my dresser in one sweep of my hand.    "Kylin, stop. Please, baby girl, stop.“ His voice was lower but still as rough, and he held his hands up in a defensive position, gauging if I was going to attack him again or not.    "If you don’t want to fuck me, right now, then get your shit and get the fuck out of my apartment, and I never want to see you again.” I growled, drunkenly pulling the closet door open to retrieve his leather jacket. “Ky, It’s not that-”    "That’s it,“ I pushed the jacket into his chest and pushed him out of the bedroom door, "Get the fuck out.” “Kylin-”    "Get the fuck out, Jeffrey. Out of my apartment, and out of my life.“ I ripped off the necklace he’d given me from my neck and threw it at him before I slammed my bedroom door in his face.    A few moments later I heard my front door open and then softly click closed, and I knew that I was alone. I looked out my window to see the rental car I knew he’d been driving gone from it’s spot in the parking lot. Still pissed, I dug through the back of my closet until I found the black bag in the back that I had been looking for. Throwing it over my shoulder before grabbing my keys and locking the door, I headed towards my car. Towards the club.    I stormed in through the doors of the bar and straight up to the door girl, who looked at me with wide eyes. John stood beside her with a mirrored expression on his face.    "Uh, hey, Ky…uh….We didn’t know you’d be coming back so soon…Uh, the bar’s all set for the night…"He panicked.    "Fuck the God damned bar. Fuck that stupid promotion.” I started, throwing the shoes I had been carrying on the counter, making both of them flinch. “I’m wanna dance.”

part seven: https://hornsbeforehalos.tumblr.com/post/164020959274/anytime-sweetheart-part-7

[rockrevoltmagazine]

INTERVIEW: STIX ZADINIA OF STEEL PANTHER

L.A. rockers Steel Panther return with their fifth studio album Heavy Metal Rules, set to be released on September 27th. Building off of a repertoire of already legendary anthems Steel Panther made sure to deliver more of the same but different tunes. RockRevolt had a chance to speak with the man behind the kit, Stix Zadinia, about the recording process for Heavy Metal Rules, playing the legendary Download Festival at Castle Donington, UK and what Stix’s parents think about their son’s career path.

RR: Being in a high profile heavy metal band has it’s benefits with money and everything else at your finger tips including women, any celebrities on that list?

Stix:  We keep that close to the vest.  I will tell you though that every show I put Charlize Theron on my guest list.  She has a standing invitation to our show because I’m in love with her.  Whether or not she’s in the country it doesn’t matter she goes on Steel Panther’s guest list.  I’d like to use this opportunity as an open invitation to Charlize, come chill with me.

Let me know what show she’s going to be at as she’s on my list as well.  On a more serious note I’m sure you guys take yourselves very serious being great musicians.  With that being said what does it mean to you that the Grammy’s have considered Steel Panther for the best comedy album category?

I’ll tell you what, it’s interesting because what we do is we take not being serious very seriously.  If we got attention for being a comedy band I don’t really give a fuck as long as people are listening to us.  It doesn’t matter what category people would consider us because at the end of the day we make music for people who dig fucking heavy metal, who dig having a good time, who just want to rock.  I highly doubt that we would end up even getting nominated for a Grammy, it just feels like Steel Panther is super not Grammy.  But if they want to put us in a comedy category it wouldn’t matter to me.  I wouldn’t be offended by it at all, I’d be down.

It’s pretty fucking cool just to be in that conversation, right?

Yeah to be recognized by anyone, a kid down the street at his house to dig Steel Panther or the Grammy’s that would be cool too.  The whole goal for us is to have people pay attention and listen to what we do and dig it.

Well there’s no doubt people are listening as your fanbase continues to grow.  Let’s talk about the new album Heavy Metal Rules which seems to have a heavier edge to it.  Can you take us behind the scenes and review what the writing process is like and is there a primary band member these creative ideas come from?

I would say Satchel our guitar player is our main writer.  The guy is a freak in the best way.  The first time he and I jammed together both of us went ok there’s something that happened here between the two of us musically that we just clicked.  He comes up with a lot of ideas, I’ll send him riff ideas.  I’ll send him song title ideas.  The song “Fuck Everybody” for instances was Satchel and I backstage at the House of Blues in Cleveland and one of us was serious and said fuck everybody! Someone else said everyone can suck my dick.  Then I said what if that’s a song and he comes up with a riff right on the spot.  He has an acoustic guitar backstage.  And then goes dude check it out, that was the germ of that song.  For us on this record in particular as opposed to say the first record.  The first record for us we wanted to really define Steel Panther, it’s your first record you want to make a real clear fucking impression.  We put out Feel the Steel and it had songs and elements of all the cool shit that 80’s metal could offer.  I feel like on this record I don’t think we rested on any of our laurels.  I feel like we pushed the fucking envelop and we wrote songs and recorded songs that stretched our sound musically and it’s fucking exciting man.  I mean a song like “I’m Not Your Bitch” is one of the heaviest things we’ve ever done.  It’s fun to be at this point in our career where we can put out a fifth record and it sounds like Steel Panther but it doesn’t sound like shit that we’ve done before.  I feel like people will be like fuck man they keep staying fresh because it doesn’t sound like another album of the same shit.  It’s the same shit but it’s different.

I completely agree, when I was listening to the album, I took from it right away that it’s heavier.  Just like you said it’s different but it’s still Steel Panther.  That’s important for a band with an identity, you don’t want to stray too far from that but make it different enough that it doesn’t sound like you’re repeating yourselves.  Now on your new record is there a track that stands out for you or more specific one that showcases Stix? Maybe a track that was challenging for you?

Oh man, you know “I’m Not Your Bitch” is one of those songs where in the chorus it has that syncopated riff with some double kick in it.  That was a little challenging to make it feel good and right.  That’s what you’re trying to do when you record an album, capture that fucking lightning in a bottle and get the right feel.  We don’t fix shit and make it perfect.  We keep it rock intentionally, it’s important to us because that’s how our favorite records were recorded and sometimes it’s a little bit off, but off in a way that makes you feel good.  We try to record the songs from top to bottom instead of sections because if you record it in parts it can feel sterile.  When you play it top to bottom there’s that dynamic flow that happens that you won’t get if you do it in sections.  For us we just try to perform the best we can on the record and try to capture what we think is super fucking cool.

What do you have upcoming tour wise?

We are doing an album release party at the Whiskey (in L.A.) on the 26th I believe of September and we’re going to have our friends in this band California play with us.  Our tour manager Joe Lester is actually in the band so that’s exciting for us.  Then we are going to do Sammy Hagar’s Beach Festival two days later at Huntington Beach.  Then we start the Heavy Metal Rules Tour in the states in October for about two and a half weeks on the east coast.  Come home then more touring in the states in November and December.  Then we have some special shit we have not announced for the beginning of the year that I can’t quite say yet because we like to keep shit top secret.

Glad you guys are hitting up the east coast, I’ll see you at the Portland, ME stop.

We love coming to the east coast.  Portland is great, Boston is fucking amazing.  There’s a lot of rock and roll fans on the east coast.  It’s always exciting for us to go there accept when it’s in the dead of winter.  You guys have cold fucking winters.  But we’ll warm it up, we’ll bring the heat.

I caught you guys at Download Festival (UK) in 2012 and 2014, it’s just an amazing festival.  What’s it like playing in front of 100,000 people? It’s got to be unbelievable, a complete mind fuck.

Ok I’m going to tell you how it is.  Imagine being on stage in front of 100,000 people.  That’s exactly how it is (both of us laughing).  There is no fucking analogy that you can give to someone to make it feel any cooler.  It’s fucking scary, it’s exhilarating, it’s fucking crazy.  I’ll tell you this there have been moments, I think it happens every time we do a festival.  Just going back to Download, yes everybody in the states needs to go to Download, there’s a few festivals in the world that really stand out to me.  Download is one of them, Wacken is one of them, Hellfest is one of them.  There are a few festivals that there are so many people it’s unbelievable, you have to go to experience it.  When we’re playing “Community Property” and you have 100,000 people singing “Community Property” all at the same time I’ve gotten fucking choked up.  I don’t cry at movies, that’s not my shit.  I’m trying to sound macho I just don’t really get effected like that but when I fucking see and hear and feel all those people doing the same thing at the same time and it’s because of something that I was a part of creating I’ve fucking gotten choked up.

It’s unbelievable just being in the crowd.  And it makes sense there is no analogy that can describe it.  Of course at the 2012 Download Festival Cory Taylor (Slipknot, Stone Sour) joined you on stage, you’re know to have a lot of special guests participate.  Is there someone on the list you’d love to have play with you that has not already?

Oh man I’d like to have Lady Gaga come up.  I think it would be fucking cool to have Lady Gaga come up.  We’ve had Pink come up so I can’t say her or else I would say her again because she’s fucking amazing.  Man we’ve had so many of my fucking favorites up with us.  It’s like a hard question to answer because I can’t think of people I haven’t jammed with.  We’ve had Jerry Cantrell and Tom Morello, Sebastian Bach, Kip Winger, a bunch of people man.  We are very, very fortunate that people are down to get up and rock with us.

Is there one of your headline shows that stands out?

Yeah, Wembley Arena.  When you go to Wembley and headline they give you a plaque that says congratulations you made it.  When you pull up to the arena and get out of the bus, you park underneath of the arena, and I see all the people putting the show together – the stage, lights and the sound, all those people are doing that because of this thing that we created.  It’s intense.  Then you do that show, headline show of 12,000 people it’s pretty unbelievable.

What does Mr. & Mrs. Zdinia, your parents think of how and what Stix is doing these days?

I’ll tell you what pops Zdinia is very proud.  And mom, I think they’re proud of their boy.  Look it’s not lost on me being able to fucking rock and roll for a living is a rare opportunity.  It’s not something that you can apply for.  You don’t work your way up the corporate ladder to do.  I feel like I was born to do and they feel like I was born to do it.  I’m doing what I’m supposed to do.  And I think that they’re really happy that I’m not in a gutter somewhere.

Let me ask you this, if you weren’t a Trump fan before did you become one after it came out about his locker room banter about grabbing her by the pussy was revealed? What is your take of the man in the Oval Office?

You know what I tend to stay away from that shit.  You know why, I don’t get involved in that because the moment you say some shit 50% of the people are going to go fuck you.  My station in life is to provide good fucking rock and roll.

Can you quickly give us your top 5 records?

Shout at the Devil, Motley Crue;  Pyromania, Def Leppard;  the first Winger record;  Steel Panther Heavy Metal Rules;  Queensryche, Rage for Order. 

Stix any final words for the fans?

Thank you for fucking letting us do what we do and supporting us.  And get ready because Heavy Metal Rules is going to rip your dick and tits off.  And you’re going to freak out because you haven’t heard a record like this and it’s going to be more of the same different shit.

I can attest to that, it is a kick ass record.  You’re going to have great success with it.  Best of luck with it and the upcoming tour.  Appreciate your time today, thank you!

Thanks Brett I appreciate it. 

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INTERVIEW: STIX ZADINIA OF STEEL PANTHER was originally published on RockRevolt Mag

[the--walking--daryl]

Could you do prompt 38 and 42 with Daryl... if that's okay?

Yeah, that’s fine! :)

#38-  “Okay, judging by the look on your face, you either want to kill me or have sex with me.”

#42- “You’re drunk, I’m drunk, lets make it happen.”

GUYS THIS IS THE FIRST SMUT ON MY BLOG SO ENJOY!

*DISCLAIMER- I DO NOT WRITE MY OWN SMUT. I HAVE TWO SMUT WRITERS.*

Smut credit- @jijsku​

That was another one. Another of your team gone. It was a simple run, you didn’t see where it all started to go wrong, it was a perfectly simple plan! He was only seventeen… he was just a kid. His name was Robbie and he was a good kid. Stupid and naive, sure. But good nonetheless. Now it was time for you to go back to Alexandria to tell his mom and his sister that he got caught in a heard of walkers because he tried to be brave. You always hated that part. It didn’t happen very often, because you’d admit that you were a very good leader. But when it did, you always had to put your feelings aside and be totally deadpan about it. You couldn’t cry. You would never let yourself cry.

After leaving Robbie’s mother and sister to grieve, you headed home and opened one of the many beers that Abraham had given you a while back. You sat at your table and drank in silence. Your mind raced over the events of a few hours previous. How Robbie grabbed your hand and begged you to help him. How you knew you couldn’t, but you stayed anyway. You knew you should’ve just shot him and put him out of his misery, but you couldn’t do that, not to a kid.

When you’d made your way through another beer, you heard a knock at your front door. You let out an exasperated sigh and set down your beer as you headed over to see who it was at your doorstep. When you peeked through the draped on your door, you saw Daryl’s tall, muscular figure standing in the evening heat. You unlocked and opened the door and met his sympathetic gaze..

“Hey,” he said. “How you feelin’?”

“Oh, I’m great. Always feel fantastic whenever I lose someone.” You sighed sadly.

“Listen, it weren’t your fault.”

“Tell that to Robbie’s family, Daryl. See what they have to say. I’m sure they’d disagree.” You argued, thinking about the look on Robbie’s mother’s face when she found out.

“They probably would. But that don’t change anything. And if it makes you feel any better, I still think you’re one of the best people we got.” Daryl says softly, warming your heart a little. You notice that he glanced behind you and sees the beer bottles on your table and he suddenly had an idea.

“Look, I’ll be back soon, alright? I’ll stay with you for the night. I’m sleepin’ on your couch and there ain’t nothing you can do about it.” He smiled and walked away.

You were taken aback by Daryl being so forward. You’d never known him to be so confident with his words and gestures. He was always the stereotypical ‘strong, silent type’ that only spoke up when something was ridiculously important. You simply shrugged and wandered back to your beers.

Moments later, the door opened again and Daryl strolled into your kitchen with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a bottle of tequila in the other.

“If you’re gonna do this, you’re gonna do it right.” He told you as he set the bottles down in front of you.

“You’re getting me drunk?” You chuckled with a slight scoff.

“Pretty much.” He shrugs and sits down opposite you.

You gaze at him with uncertainty, confused as to why he’s suddenly so outgoing, but a little bit attracted by his new-found confidence.

“Okay, judging by the look on your face, you either want to kill me or have sex with me,” he jokes, snapping you out of your inappropriate train of thought. “Is this a bad idea?” He asked.

“I mean, you haven’t met drunk me, so I’m just worried for you.” You laughed, only half joking, knowing full well that you have no filter between your brain and your mouth when you’re intoxicated.

“See, now I’m just excited.”

And with those words, you both took swigs from each bottle.

By the end of the night, you had claimed the bottle of tequila as your own, leaving Daryl with the bottle of whiskey, which he had no problem with. The two of you had inched closer to one another as the hours ticked by, and now there was no more space left to eliminate.

You were giggling like a schoolgirl at Daryl’s comment about Rick  being completely whipped by Michonne when you noticed something- Daryl was smiling.

“Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile.” You slurred.

“Don’t get used to it.” He mumbled, drinking the last drop of Jack.

“Can’t really get used to anything these days.” You replied with a sad sigh.

“What do you miss? Y’know, from before.” Daryl asked.

You let out a brief laugh and threw your head back in amusement.

“Sex.” You answered honestly, immediately regretting it afterwards.

“Really? You haven’t gotten laid since-”

“Since what? The whole world went to shit? Pretty much.” You snickered.

After a few moments, you noticed him gazing at you as you took another shot.

“What? What’s that look for?” You giggled.

“I can uh… help you out, y’know.” Daryl proposed, surprising you into silence.

“I uh… wh-”

“What? You’re drunk, I’m drunk… lets make it happen.”

And with that, you hungrily crashed your lips into his, earning an animalistic growl from Daryl.

“This is a bad idea.” You groaned.

“The worst.” Daryl breathed, taking off your jacket.

“We shouldn’t do this.” You moaned as you bit at his bottom lip.

“Definitely not.” Daryl grabbed your hips and pulled you into his lap.

“Sex isn’t the answer.” You slid his vest down his toned arms.

“Never is.” He sloppily unbuttoned your shirt.

“We’re about to make a big mistake.” You hurriedly unbuckled his belt.

“Damn straight.”

After unbuckling his belt you subconsciously licked your lips and Daryl smirked. He slipped your jeans off and ran his hands up your thighs, stopping just before your core. You looked him in the eyes and kissed him hungrily, the taste of alcohol mixing, whiskey and tequila, you and Daryl. It was pure passion, even if in a drunken state. You slipped your hand down his stomach and to his boxers, palming him through the fabric making him grunt. He wrapped your legs around his waist as he stood up and walked over to your lounge, and then pinned you onto the sofa and his hair fell around his face, making you giggle.

“You look like a girl!” You giggled but gasped as you felt pressure on your clit.

“I’m not the girl here Darlin’.” He drawled and rubbed your clit harder before stopping and taking his fingers back up. You weren’t sure if you would remember this in the morning but neither of you cared at the moment. You just wanted to fuck each others brains out. Daryl stood up and took his boxers off, slipping a condom on his rock hard member. You felt yourself getting wetter by just seeing his member, ready to be embraced by you. You stripped your panties and he came to you, not even warning you, just slamming inside you, making you scream out loud. He let you adjust and started grinding his hips carefully, making him grunt and you moan in pleasure. The sounds filling the house, the air growing hot and the alcohol pumping through your veins giving adrenaline.

“Faster… Daryl, oh my God!” You yelled and bucked your hips up to meet his and he did what you said and went maybe a little too fast. He started ramming into you and put a thumb on your clit, feeling your walls tighten around him.

“Jesus Christ, how has nobody fucked you this whole time? You’re so damn tight!” He hissed through gritted teeth and rammed one more time, making both of you explode, orgasming the hardest you ever had, even before the apocalypse. Daryl laid down next to you and you both fell asleep soon due to both of you being ridiculously exhausted.

You woke up to the sun shining into your eyes, sending shooting pains into your head, causing you to wince in pain, and you were about to get up when you felt a figure pressing against your back. Your head was throbbing really badly and you felt nauseous all over. As you put two and two together, you reminisced about the previous night. You and Daryl… oh shit. Oh… God! Why did you let yourself get so drunk!?

‘shit, he’s never going to look at me the same again!’ You thought.

You turned over and gently nudged Daryl in an attempt to wake him up. He grumbled as he opened his eyes, clearly not wanting to be disturbed. It only took a few seconds before the pain washed over him and he too remembered the events of the night before.

“Ugh, I feel like shit,” Daryl complained, burying his head into your pillows. “Sorry about last night.”

“Why? I had fun.” You smiled sheepishly, causing Daryl to look up at you.

“You did?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Me too.” Daryl smirked a little and took hold of your hand.

“You’re not in any kind of rush to leave, are you?” You asked, your voice dripping with hope.

Daryl pressed a sudden kiss to your lips that answered your question for him. You were slightly taken aback at first, but it didn’t take you long to welcome it.

“I’ll take that as a no.” You giggled and the two of you spent the rest of the day in bed, holding each other and desperately attempting to get rid of the pain of your hangovers.