#I finally got to play her Thursday and she intimidated her way into the party <3

[shahenor]

Béatrice has finally made her grand entrance 🎭

[figgyfaeth]

4 Days to Zeppelin

The first chapter for a fic I’ve had rolling around in my head for a few days. Do with it what you like. Essentially the core four take a little vacation for themselves to see Led Zeppelin in the city. 

Chapter One: Tickets Acquired! 

John’s hair was soft. Softer than Carlos had originally anticipated but delightfully so. Not as soft as Lata’s hair but much softer than Mary’s. He wasn’t sure when him playing with their hair became a thing, but it had certainly become a thing. His favorite activity in the car was sitting behind whoever was driving and giving them a little head massage, or braiding Lata’s hair, or running his fingers through John’s truly incredible head of hair.

This was how he found himself at 4 pm on a Thursday when it happened. Laying on the bed, above John who was sitting cross-legged on the floor teaching Lata how to clean a pistol. His fingers were weaving their way through the roots when Mary all but kicked the door to their motel room open, flushed and seemingly fresh from a fight.

The action was immediate. He literally felt John’s attention snap to Mary, like she was his platoon leader coming to give them orders. Lata nearly fell over trying to twist herself to face the doorway, pistol taken apart and abandoned between them on the floor. Carlos was the only one who did not move. His eyes lazily slid to Mary’s, looking just uninterested enough for her to know it wasn’t the case.

The energy in the room was… weird. They were waiting for her to explain herself and she was trying to catch her breath.

“I got them.” She breathed, a smile spreading slowly across her face. “I fucking got them.” She extended her hand far enough out for them all to see 4 tickets, Led Zeppelin, Baltimore, in 4 days. “Nearly had to fight some dude who thought he could get in front of me, but I scared him–” Before she could finish John and Lata were both enveloping her in a hug, smiles on their faces, bouncing up and down. Carlos sat up on the bed and looked at his friends, he took a mental snapshot of this moment before rolling his eyes and crossing over to them. For a moment they feel like just a group of friends, not hunters, not far-too-young adults who face down nightly horrors that would make most people break down.

–

It had actually been Lata’s suggestion. They had been hard on the trail of Samuel and the Akrida, and non-stop hunting for months. A werewolf had brought them to Maryland and Lata had seen the ad in the paper. It took a little convincing, Carlos had been in immediately, Mary was easy to sway as they were her favorite band, John had been the lone hold out. He had been so gung ho as of late to stay on target. Finally after convincing him the world would still need saving after a little vacation he relented.

They had sent Mary to get the tickets because she, surprisingly, was the most intimidating and most likely to stay on target and not get distracted. Her teachers had told her she was incredibly task oriented.

So for the first time in months they were going to relax. Carlos grabbed the keys and John and took off for the store, coming back with liquor and junk food. Mary and Lata attempted to make the motel look like something other than a place to stay for the night, as they were going to be there for a little bit longer than anticipated. Lata even convinced Mary to put away all weapons, lore books, and notes. For a vacation isn't a vacation unless you actually take a break.

The party, if you can call it that, started simply. They did shots, toasting to Jimmy Page and then another, toasting to Robert Plant. They traded stories of their best hunts, toughest kills, and John contributed a tale or two from Vietnam. Mary told them tales of growing up as a hunter, her first solo hunt, the ghost she took out at 7. Carlos told them more about the interesting people that he met on the road than the monsters he hunted. Lata waxed poetic about the different myths she had studied in the library and how it had blown her mind to find out that they were all true.

After a while John just sat and listened, the whiskey relaxing him. Watching these three beautiful humans who leaned into each other, trusted each other. Trusted him . Lata at some point rested her head on his bicep, he caught himself smiling at the trust, the comfort of such a small simple action. Their circle got smaller, the bottles got lighter, and the world went just a little blurry.

At some point, no one knows when, Carlos began putting on a show, performing his rendition of Zeppelin songs. Lata signing back-up when necessary. Soon coerced Mary and John into singing an especially maudlin version of Tangerine with them as they danced around their dingy hotel room before collapsing to sleep. Comfortable, safe, and all just a little in love with each other.

[quarantined-with-bucky]

American Boy

Bucky x Reader

Request: So basically buckyxreader where she is a super successful businesswomen and awfully confident but when she’s with bucky she feels insecure as many women want him and she’s insecure of nat. Based on “American Boy” by little mix where bucky is her american boy and the other girl in the song is nat. So like angst with a happy ending (maybe smut if you’re comfortable idk idk).

Words: ~ 9,700

Summary: Dating Bucky can be challenging sometimes -- all the time.

Warnings: Smut, angst

A/N: Sorry this took me so long :( I recently started work so its been hard to write -- but I’m really happy with how this one turned out!! Thank you so much for the request!

And I met him back when I was out in California He was playing in a band and she was dancing on a stage And he says that I'm the one but she's the one that got away And he never knew her real name

Nothing about tonight sounded mildly comfortable. It was going to be six hours in a too cold banquette hall, standing all night in too tall heels, a too tight dress, with your hair scraped back into a too painful bun. From the moment you stepped inside, the flesh on your arms and décolleté erupting into goosebumps – nothing a little alcohol can’t fix, you thought to yourself, snagging a glass of champagne off of the tray from the first waiter you saw.

“Y/N,” Tony called, opening his arms to greet you. His suit was perfectly pressed, a three-piece suit that cost more than twice your monthly rent. You walked up to him, giving him a side hug, checking yourself out in the reflection of his iconic red glasses. “See, I knew you’d come.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, remembering how for the past week you’d declined his numerous invitations to his party. “I hope you know that I’m charging you overtime for this.”

“I’d expect nothing less.” He ushers you away while he continues mingling with his other guests.

Never in a million years had you thought you’d be an A-list guest at one of Tony Stark’s infamous parties. But, as fate would have it, you and Tony had been working together quite a bit in the recent years. What began as a little start-up from your college dorm room, quickly grew into a multinational billion-dollar company. Stark industries contracted your company out to spearhead multiple new projects – including the development of high-tech equipment for the Avengers. You had many ventures, sectors growing from technological advancement, to biometrics, to teams specializing in law, advertising, and operations.

The past few years had been a whirlwind for you. Moving to New York, managing your ever-growing company – up until now your life had been all work and no play. Once you met Tony, you knew that your world would flip upside down. You’d been in Forbes 30-Under-30 list for three years straight. Your life had grown into nothing but interviews, business deals, and fame – and you loved it. You felt like you were on top of the world at this moment in your life; nothing was going to stop your forward momentum from climbing up the ladder.

“Hey,” a smooth voice pulled you out of your fog, a figure popping up next to you.

“Hey, Steve,” you responded, smiling up at the blond man.

“You having a good night?” You’d met Steve a handful of times before through Tony, working with him a few times in the past. You don’t know if you could outright call him your close friend, but Steve was always so kind.

You could should be using tonight as a networking opportunity, but after an extremely stressful week at work, all you wanted to do was crawl into a bubble bath and relax. You couldn’t do that, so you thought you’d at least try to let loose and take it easy tonight, hoping to catch up with friends and enjoy some time partying. “I guess,” you shrugged, taking another sip of champagne.

“That makes two of us,” he replied, taking an equally long sip of his drink. “It’s hard to lay low at Tony’s parties, y’know?”

“Its hard to lay low when you’re Captain America,” you joked, nudging his arm with your elbow. He rolled his eyes again, running a hand through his short blond hair.

Your eyes scanned over the crowd, trying to find something worthwhile to talk to Steve about: maybe about the couples dancing in the center of the room, the large crowd gathered at the bar, the performers that laced their way through the influx of people. Your gaze fell upon a smaller group of people gathered around a table, laughing, telling stories and interrupting each other with more tall tales. You only recognized a couple people in the group; Sam Wilson: tall, well-built, perhaps a little tipsy, chirping away with his witty comments; Natasha Romanoff: a goddess, quiet, watching, observing, black dress so tight on her beautiful figure it looked like it was painted on; Bucky Barnes: the epitome of tall dark and handsome, at the forefront of the conversation, laughing and cussing telling his sensational war story, dark tendrils of hair hanging loosely in front of his face, obstructing the view of his blue eyes.

“Have you met Bucky?” Steve asked, interrupting your thoughts. You shook your head ‘no,’ unable to tear your eyes away from him. His black suit was complemented quite nicely with a fitted black shirt, the top buttons undone, his tanned muscle peaking out. He ran his metallic hand through his long hair – you finally were able to see his eyes, the only color on him, so bright compared to their dark surroundings. And they were looking at you.

Tearing your eyes away from him, you turned your head up to Steve. He was watching Bucky, watching him looking at you; Steve’s head turned between the two of you, almost unable to stop the smile from pulling at his lips. Steve pulled you into the group, making space for you to stand between him and Bucky. As introductions were passed around the group, you felt eyes on you. This time, the set of green eyes.

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Natasha give you the up and down a few times. Your first reaction was that it wasn’t in a bad or necessarily judgmental way; she was interested in who the outsider was. She was protective, it was instinctual; she would observe said outsider, finding all of her flaws, quirks, secrets, until she was certain she wasn’t a threat. When you were introduced to her, she politely flashed you a smile with her infamous painted red lips and shook your hand.

“(Y/N), this is Bucky,” Steve finished, watching eagerly as the two of you shook hands and exchanged smiles.

“(Y/N),” Bucky whispered, your name tasting sweet on his lips; he tipped his head ever so slightly towards you in greeting.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

Everybody took the hint – that hint being Steve wiggling his eyebrows at everyone – and the group dispersed. You waved goodbye to the like, politely offering goodbyes to everyone. In your peripheral vison, you watched as the red head gave you one final up-and-down, crossing her arms over her busty chest, flitting her eyes to Bucky’s before she strutted off.

…

You hit it off with Bucky instantly, spending the night discussing everything from your future prospects to your relationship status to your past (specifically, your past). He was completely enamored by you. He was obsessed with the fact that people looked up to you; you demanded respect – so much so, in fact, that your success intimidated them; you were unapproachable to those who didn’t have their shit together. After that night, he knew he had to see you again.

And you could not feel more the same way.

It started fairly privately. Despite your constant media attention – being the CEO of a Fortune 500 company had that effect – being Tony Stark’s business partner escalated that. Usually on your commute to and from work, whether that be your corporate office or the Avenger’s tower, there would be a few paparazzi and a couple reporters following you around. They wanted information on you, your ventures, but most importantly: Tony Stark. When you were contracted to work with Stark Industries, you knew this was a possibility – in fact, it was the number one con on your pros & cons list. While you did think it was a decent opportunity for exposure, it surely came back to bite you in the ass.

You didn’t anticipate meeting Bucky Barnes – you surely didn’t anticipate dating him, either. You couldn’t be happier with Bucky; you wouldn’t let the incessant paparazzi and media attention get to you. Surely, you’d figured that dating an actual Avenger would draw some attention to yourself. However, you couldn’t have predicted the magnitude it would have on your daily life. The amount cameramen and reporters that followed you on a daily basis more than doubled.

Now, you’d never considered yourself shy, especially not camera shy – hell, all you were doing was walking from your car to and from different buildings – you could surely handle getting your picture taken. You had to admit, you were put together (and damn hot). You wore tailored suits, the tall heels; your hair and makeup were done perfectly every day.          

It’s not like you hadn’t been on the cover of magazines before; but they were articles, studies, biographies. You posed for the cover of Forbes and Wall Street Journal and Harvard Business Review. Gracing the cover of tabloid magazines, however, was new territory for you. They talked about your style, your makeup, you clothes, your hair – nothing was too surface level for them to delve into. At first, that’s all it was. Noting and pricing your style, People magazine printing a “Who is She?” issue.

Then the comparisons started.

It was a side-by-side of you and Natasha – Black Widow. How could you compete with her?

You were sitting in bed one morning, up early before dawn, checking your phone before you started your morning routine. It was supposed to be like any other Thursday: work, meetings, executive board reviews: productive. But after reading that article, your heart deflated; today would only truly be over once you get to crawl back into your bed at the end of the day and sulk under the covers.

You slowly let out a long breath as you scrolled quickly through the article. “(Y/N) Becomes Black Widow’s Replacement: Is She Good Enough or Will She Get Tangled in the Web?” leave it to Daily Mail to start off with a shitty pun to ruin your mood.

The first picture was a full body shot of you laid next to a similar image of Natasha. She was shorter, sure – but curvier. She had more muscle, obviously – and those legs. Even you wanted to be strangled to death by her thighs. (And you felt like dying at that moment, that’s for sure). Maybe she just wore tighter clothes? You did, in fact, wear well-tailored clothes – you were actually very fashion forward for the business world, taking Fall 2020 by storm. She just got the chance to wear tighter clothes more often.

The second photo was an extremely flattering behind shot. The photographer might as well have taken the camera and pointed it right up your skirt. You’d heard the tabloids comparing the asses of other famous women, surely even the English Royalty had headlines circulating about it. You actually thought you had a good ass – you do – but hers was better. Black fucking Widow and you were supposed to somehow compete?

The last shot was a close up of your faces. You had to admit, they probably could’ve picked a worse picture of you. You weren’t smiling, you weren’t frowning – it was neutral. Your brows maybe slightly narrowed. Natasha, on the other hand, was glaring at the paparazzi. They gave her space, as if they took one step too close, she would murder them (and although she was actually extremely kind to you, they were probably right in that case). Her glare exuded confidence, intimidation. That was the difference between your auras: while your success may have been intimidating to others, it was her essential being that was intimidating – she could kill you just by looking at you.

While some people may not appreciate that fact, the pure daunting atmosphere that surrounded her, there was one person that did: James Buchanan Barnes.

He, himself, had the same ambiance, after all: that is being the don’t fuck with me stare.

Oh, and I don't mean to get so caught up And insecure 'bout all the things you say Oh, and I don't mean to be jealous, it's just careless me Boy, I must drive you mad

“Hey, Bucky,” you greeted, swinging open your front door, pressing a chaste kiss to the lips of the man before you.

He hummed against your lips, caught off guard as you pulled away sooner than expected. “Hey, baby,” he responded, shrugging it off stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. “It smells great,” he noted regarding the pasta sauce simmering on the stove. He dipped a metallic pinky finger in the sauce, cheekily smiling at you as he licked his makeshift tasting-spoon. “Tastes great – no surprise.”

You couldn’t help but return his smile, trying to shake off the bad day you’d had, instead turning all focus to your giggle boyfriend before you. He takes two steps forward, engulfing you in his strong arms, rubbing his flesh hand up and down your back in a soothing motion. You rested your cheek against his chest, taking a deep breath in; his earthy scent calmed you down, the heat radiating off of him offering you to a level of relaxation you didn’t know was possible. “Did you have a bad day, baby?” He cooed quietly, pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear.

“Yeah,” you breathed, nodding into his chest. “Bad. And busy. And annoying.”

“Annoying?” He repeated, testing the word on his tongue, but not questioning further. “Come on, why don’t we eat because I’m hungry – and I know you’re hungry – and get you to relax.” You smile up at him, giving him a proper kiss this time, unsure if he was just saying that to get dinner going, or if his supersoldier senses could actually tell that you were hungry (because you were).

Dinner went smoothly. It was quiet, moreso than usual. But it was nice. It was calm: a good change of pace from both of your busy schedules. It was tranquil: spending the evening exchanging loving glances and touches across the table, playing footstie under the table, Bucky quite literally licking pasta sauce off your cheek.

As he finished up his third serving (to which you just sip your wine while he gets his fill), you can’t help but break the silence and light conversation with a loaded question: “What’s with you and Natasha?”

You didn’t mean for the question to come out so abrupt or harsh, but it had been eating at your mind all day. You’d found yourself looking at that article during every five-minute break you got. Comparing hair, clothes, smiles, eyes, teeth – everything.

“What’s with us?” He repeated, eyebrows cocked in misunderstanding, palms raised in confusion. He didn’t understand the question.

You sighed heavily, dropping your eyes to the near empty wine glass before you. “I don’t know,” you grumbled, running your hands over your forehead, dropping them behind your head, pulling your hair a bit. “I’ve been seeing these articles about her – about her and me,” you clarified, trailing off, hoping he’d understand the picture. As he remained silent, you sat back against your chair, slouching. “Did you guys date or something?” You immediately bit the inside of your cheek. The question burned coming off your tongue.

His chuckle almost startled you out of your fog; your stomach dropped as you felt knots pull at all your insides. “Babe.” He reaches across the table with open palms, waiting for you to place your hands in his. You hesitated, but eventually complied, his soft smile and kind eyes giving you no other choice. “No. We never had – or did – anything. Never. I promise.”

Okay, well that made you feel better. You let out a breathy sigh (this time of relief) as you gave his hands a gentle squeeze. “Okay,” you repeated. “Okay.” It made you feel a little better, sure, but then why?

He raised his eyebrows once again. “You don’t believe me?”

“No – no, no, no – ” you replied quickly, reaching farther across the table, fingertips grazing his forearms. “I’m just confused. I keep seeing articles comparing me and her,” you stated very slowly, unsure of the right words, unsure of what his innate reaction would be.

“We have a… past,” he responded, slowly; it was calculated.

But in that moment, he knew he miscalculated. “A past?”

No, not like that, he thought. But like what, exactly? How was he supposed to explain it? God, his own life was complicated enough to explain – he hadn’t dared to divulge that deep, in fear of ruining your newly blossoming relationship. He owed you some sort of explanation, though, right? But he was at a loss for words at the worst time possible. “It just goes back to… a long time ago… with… well… ” With no words left to complete his fragment of a sentence, he raised his left hand and wiggled his metallic fingers.

Your lips formed an “oh” shape as you said the same word mentally. Oh, no shit, more like. The Russian spy and the Winter Soldier had intertwined pasts. You felt like an idiot – like the answer was laying right there before you, your eyes glazing right over it. “Bucky, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry but – ”

He cut you off immediately, taking one of your hands into both of his. He looked you straight in the eyes, his own blue irises staring deep into yours. “Don’t apologize, please.” He swallowed hard. “I don’t want that part of my life taking over my life now. You’re not prying – I need to be open with you about it.” You nodded slowly. “I want you to be apart of my life, (Y/N),” he clarified, nearly smiling at you missing the implication of his previous sentence.

You grinned, a goofy wine-infused smile. You leaned across the table, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips.

That night, he began telling you about his past; nothing he wasn’t comfortable with discussing was mentioned. You didn’t push him, didn’t ask questions, didn’t offer opinion or advice. The only thing you offered was solace, comfort, and hot tea. You held him in bed, ran your fingers through his hair, rubbed small circles on his muscled back.

He told you about how he trained her, how their connected past drew scrutiny to them in the media. How their ties to Russia, Hydra, and a few not-so politically correct incidents in the past tied them closer together both in eyes of the tabloids and, subsequently, to each other.

You had no questions, no comments. There was nothing for you to say. You weren’t questioning the validity of his past and you didn’t question the fact that he and Natasha were just friends. You were confident in Bucky, confident that he was telling the truth – confident in your relationship.

The two of you fell asleep that night wiping tears off each other’s cheeks; but neither of you had felt more safe – more in love – than at that moment in your lives.

…

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you,” he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing down at you – at your figure.

You were turned away from him, trying to busy yourself, acting as though bringing it up again was casual, like it was just a normal question on par with how was your day? It, in fact, was extremely loaded; there couldn’t be more of a loaded question, in Bucky’s opinion (in your own opinion, too). But, dammit, you needed validation – wasn’t that okay?

It was okay.

It was always okay. Bucky understood that. Even he, himself, needed validation in a similar way. However, there were two distinct differences about what he needed vs. what you needed.

1. He never needed validation against someone else.

Bucky was insecure – the fact of the matter was every single person in the world had insecurities, from the brightest minds to the most beautiful models; there isn’t a single person who isn’t immune to outside pressure, societal expectations, internal comparisons. Sometimes Bucky would be insecure of his arm, oftentimes he’d be insecure about his past. He’d wonder about his hair, he’d read articles about himself, comments people posted online. Bucky had a certain confidence about himself, sure. He was intimidating (that was both a good and a bad thing).

But you. You were intimidating, too – you were, in Bucky’s eyes – the baddest bitch; you controlled the business world, dominate magazine headlines, demanded the attention of every man in the room. He loved it. He loved the fact that you were all that and more, and that he got to come home to you. He got to hold you in his arms at night. He got to make love to you.

That’s why he didn’t understand your – what he determined to be – obsession with her. All the time asking him about her. Were you as good as her? Were you better than her? He understood, at first. Natasha was very intimidating – to anyone, even her own team. He didn’t mind showing you extra attention, sprinkling you with more compliments, lovingly laying his hands on the places you didn’t like about yourself. He loved you; he loved complimenting you. Nothing he ever said was a lie, so he had no problem saying them.

But as time went on, you kept asking. About. Her.

2. He believed you when you validated him.

Not only were you asking about Natasha, constantly comparing yourself to her – your body, your brains, your face, even your hair. Again, he had no problem telling you how beautiful you were; it was a service to you that he would trade anything in the world for. He loved to say that to you; complimenting your intelligence, looks, attitude – all of it.

Maybe he wasn’t complimenting you enough anymore? Even so, you had to know the way he felt about you? He tried really hard to validate it as his own fault. Like it was something he had done to cause you to suddenly be so insecure. But all it took was one walk down the bustling street-stands on the New York City’s streets for him to realize. You, after all, had graced the cover of every magazine as of lately. You and Natasha.

He wasn’t so hard on you or himself after that little piece clicked in his head.

But at the end of the day, he couldn’t stop himself from wondering if you never believed him. Did you trust him? Did you love him? Those questions ran through his head at night – as much as he hated it, he couldn’t stop it.

“It’s not how many times, Bucky! It’s – it’s – ” You tripped over your own words.

“What is it, then, (Y/N)? Because I sure as hell can’t figure it out.” In fact, you didn’t know what it was. You couldn’t pinpoint it. You couldn’t put the words together.

You turned around, crossing your arms across your chest, mirroring him. You just stared back it him, biting your lip. There wasn’t anything you could say; just offered him a shrug.

“(Y/N), come on,” he began. “You can’t seriously believe the shit they say.” He was referring to the incessant media coverage. The eyes on you – 24/7 cameras. It eats away at you; it was all you could think about. “You’re too smart for them. What’s this all about, then?”

If there was anyone who could see right through you, it was him. But if there was one thing he needed to know about you, it was that you had too much pride to admit any sort of insecurity to anyone – even your boyfriend of now eight months.

It was in that moment that you wondered if he took a short tone with her the way he had been with you lately. Did she have to ask him such endless questions? Definitely not. She had nothing to worry about. She didn’t care.

That was the difference between the two of you.

You couldn’t do anything but care.

Singing, singing, singing Ooh la la, he breaks my heart I know he thinks about her when he plays guitar And ooh la la, my American boy

You and Bucky sat on the couch, the movie playing in front you now long forgotten. The past few weeks have been stressful for the both of you. You were both dealing with a lot at work; you with new projects and development issues, Bucky with compiling intel that seemly led nowhere. Last night, you’d attended another one of Tony’s parties with Bucky. You thought it was going to be a fun night, seeing all your old friends, catching up with everyone you hadn’t seen in so long. What was supposed to be a casual night of fun drinking and dancing, turned sour very quickly.

It was nice in the beginning, catching up with Sam and Steve; that is, until you caught a glimpse of Bucky from the corner of your eye. He was just meant to get a refill of drinks. All he had to do was weave through the crowd, make it to the bar, and return with the drinks. You felt that it shouldn’t have taken him that long. Maybe you should’ve offered to get them instead.

There he stood, leaning against the bar, a handful of cold drinks sitting in front of him on the tabletop. You watched as he ignored the cups the bartender placed down in front of him a few minutes ago; watched as a drop of precipitation slid down the side of the cold glass, pooling with all the others at the granite bar top.

Beside him, a tall blonde mimicked his movements, leaning against the counter. She spoke to him in a hushed tone, gazing up at him under her long eyelashes. Her perfectly manicured hands grazed up and down his arm, undoubtedly innocently asking about the strong metal underneath his shirt sleeve. You rolled your eyes, nearly scoffing at her fairly blatant attempt at flirting.

You wouldn’t be so pissed off, usually. She was beautiful, sure, but you were confident in your relationship with Bucky. You knew how he felt about you and he knew how strong your feelings were for him. There was no doubt on either end – so why shouldn’t he be able to have a conversation with some woman at a party? He had just grown comfortable enough to talk about his metal arm, finally accepting the gift that the great King T’Challa had gifted him.

So why did this interaction piss you off so much?

Because you knew that if a man had come up to you to chat so innocently with you, he’d be on him in less than one second. And if a man had come up to you to chat while also running his hand up your arm or down your back, Bucky would ensure that man would be leaving this party with nothing but then broken fingers.

But your pride took the best of you, as usual. You rolled your eyes to yourself, carrying on your conversation with Sam and Steve, trying your best not to look over Sam’s shoulder too much, staring past him and at Bucky. You held your empty cup in your hand, almost now more pissed that your new drink was sitting lonely at the bar, when you needed alcohol more than ever in this moment.

All you wanted was to go up there, rip her hand off your boyfriend, and get your damn drink. Instead, you held your tongue all night. When Bucky returned with your drink, you thanked him and took it, gulping it down fairly quickly. When his hand rested on your waist, you simply gave yourself a twist, shrugging his hand off of you. You felt him give you a questioning look, but you simply pretended not to notice, instead keeping your eyes locked on Sam’s as he told his story about what ever he was talking about (you weren’t really paying attention); just smiling and nodding and looking as engaged as possible.

When you and Bucky got home that night, you quickly showered and crawled into bed. Bucky had been trying to talk to you on the car ride home, all night while you got ready for bed. Finally giving you your peace to shower, he decided to try again once he slipped into bed beside him. “What’s going on, (Y/N),” he whispered, turning towards you; but he was met with the sight of your back turned to him.

“Nothing,” you replied, face smooshed int the pillow. “’M just tired.”

His hand found your side, rubbing over your hip bone slightly, as he moved closer to you in bed. His chest pressed up against your back, his breath tickling the back of your neck. “Is that all, baby?” He kept pressing. “Let me make you feel better,” he murmured, pressing his lips to your neck, burying his face in your shoulder.

“No, Buck, stop.” You shrugged him off and lifted your shoulders in protest, pushing his head away. “I’m not in the mood – I just want to go to sleep.”

“Sorry, (Y/N),” he whispered, settling back down in the bed.

You tried to fall asleep that night, you really were tired – exhausted, in fact. But you just couldn’t calm your racing mind enough to fall asleep. You knew Bucky knew it, too. You suspected that he didn’t get much sleep either.

When you finally did get a few hours of rest, you woke up to a note left by Bucky.

Went for an early workout with Steve. Feel better, I’ll call you later.

You gave yourself a whole self-care day. Bath, face mask, manicure – the whole nine yards. You willed yourself to think of anything except Bucky and that girl – Bucky and any girl.

Every girl in the world had eyes for Bucky – why wouldn’t they? He’s absolutely gorgeous: tall, handsome, he’s got the mysterious vibe going on – basically every woman’s walking wet dream. You always gave him the benefit of the doubt when it came to women flirting with him. He was from a different time; he was just being polite. That’s what you told yourself, at least. The more Steve told you stories about him being a charmer – how he always “wooed” women back in the day – the more unsettled you became. Maybe he missed being a flirt, afterall, as he recovered, he slipped back into his old ways, whether that be an old Brooklyn accent, or his charming smile.

But how many times could you just brush it off? Blatantly flirting in front of you – sure it may have been an innocent conversation or an innocent arm touch (you know that’s how he would sell it to you) but hell, he lived in a different time now. So, he just had to get used to the fact that he had to stop letting these girls flirt with him. Was it really so hard to tell them he had a girlfriend?

Unless he thought about it and didn’t want to. He was so touch starved for the past seventy-plus years that who knows? Maybe he did enjoy all the attention – especially all the female attention. Considering the fact he was such a ladies man, maybe this is exactly what he wanted to feel like himself again, winning over all the women. And, god, all the tall women with their perfect faces and gorgeous chests, showing off more skin than they covered. They had the confidence of models, the ferociousness of catwoman – not to mention Black Widow; she was her own breed of gold-like-women.

He didn’t call you until the next day.

That’s how you ended up on your sofa, innocently watching a movie, two boxes of pizza abandoned on your coffee table. Neither of you brought up the night of Tony’s party; instead, you two sought solace in each other’s arms on the plush couch between piles of pillows.

You two ended up making out, his hands wrapping around your waist and up your back, yours winding their way through locks of his long hair. He leaned over you, your back meeting the sofa top and his chest pressing to yours. His pelvis touched yours, grinding lazily against yours. A mess of legs entangled with each other at the opposite end of the couch. His hand slid down your side, squeezing between your bodies to unbutton your jeans, his fingers slipping underneath your panties.

He groaned once his finger slipped between your slit, moaning at the wetness he found there. He pulled his hands up and shimmied your pants off, his own jeans following suit. He didn’t bother even taking them off all the way, instead latching himself on you with his pants and underwear pooling at his ankles.

His hands grabbed your hips, roughly pushing into you while his lips attached themselves to your neck. You gasped, the sudden entry startling to you. Your arms encased his torso, nails digging into his back as he roughly fucked you into the mattress. You hips met his as you tried to rock against him to meet his thrusts. His hands pinned your hips down, jackhammering you into the couch.

You were panting and moaning and screaming. You couldn’t help the noises that were coming out of your mouth. You and Bucky had tried some pretty not-vanilla stuff in the past, and sure, sex was maybe one of the best ways to get your anger out. But Bucky hadn’t ever been this nonattentive to you before. Or this quiet. Usually you couldn’t get him to shut up – between the dirty talk and the praise, you could never get him to shut up; and he loved it. He knew his whispers and all his egging-you on only flustered you more. That was the sex you loved.

This was different. He didn’t say anything; he just grunting to himself as he pounded into you, hips snapping into yours. God, you were going to be bruised tomorrow just from how hard he was holding you down. He wasn’t attentive, nor perceptive to you. He didn’t kiss you, just barred his teeth through heavy breaths.

This must have been all related to the night at Tony’s party. He was probably angry with you after that night – not talking to him at all. Not to mention you didn’t say anything when he clearly knew something was up with you; you definitely owed him an explanation. You couldn’t blame him or being angry. You weren’t so sure this was his best reaction. He was so dangerously quiet.

That’s when you threw your head back against the pillows, biting your lip and squeezing your eyes shut. Was he just fucking you to fuck you? He came quickly and without warning, spilling into you with nothing but another grunt.

He dropped on top of you, pelvis to pelvis, his cock still inside your warm cunt. He dropped his head to your chest, you shirt still left on from earlier. He shut his eyes and wrapped his arms around him. Your fingers found his hair, stroking his chestnut strands as he fell asleep on top of you.

Maybe he was just tired from waking up early? He probably needed to get his aggressions from the day out – not to mention the frustration from you basically ignoring him all day and night. There was a feeling in the back of your head, though, that this sudden change of pace may have been brought on by something else. His eyes were shut the whole time – hell, maybe he was thinking about that blonde girl from the party.

You said it to yourself as a joke – it was a fleeting thought. But you couldn’t stop thinking about it after that. Was he picturing someone else? He wasn’t turned on by you – you didn’t even get a chance to do anything sexy before he was fucking you with your clothes on. He’d probably rather be sleeping with someone else. Someone who made porn star noises and pulled his hair harder and –

God, you were tired of thinking like this.

So I wanna know who's on your phone Making me paranoid, making me bad Making me sad, making me crazy Making me feel like I needed to ask I wanna know if you're at home And if you're at home, baby, are you alone? Are you alone? Answer your phone Oh, baby, no no no

Things went back to normal after that. You weren’t sure what had gotten into him – and you – that day, but it was nothing but a distant memory. You were dating for about a year and a half. From that point, you two had kept everything very lowkey. Extravagant parties were few and far between, dates became even more private – no distractions, nothing to get between the two of you.

“Baby, I’m home,” you called, throwing your purse and keys on the kitchen table. You were hit with the faint smell of dinner, but as you checked the stovetop and oven, you were met with nothing – just the leftovers already cold in the fridge. You worked late tonight – tonight and every other night for the past three weeks. It was only nine, which wouldn’t be so bad if you didn’t have to wake up at five tomorrow to get into the office early. Your team was being met with a deadline soon, there were a lot of extra hours being put in to get the project done. You weren’t one to complain because you were the boss. You weren’t going at this alone, you had everyone else working with you helping out. But it was your job to make sure everything got done, and that included being the first one in and the last one out.

Bucky said it never bothered him. He’d go on missions for days – sometimes weeks – at a time. He encouraged you to work hard, he loved your drive and commitment to your company. He motivated you; he knew you had drive and could get things done. He loved being able to support you, too. When Steve first introduced the idea of dating to him, he wasn’t sure he wanted someone who was only obsessed with him: who got their own recognition just by being his girlfriend. He was lucky enough to be your boyfriend.

You took the Tupper wear from the fridge, popping it in the microwave and waiting for your food. You noticed Bucky on the sofa. Kicking your heels off you made your way to the living room, calling out to him again. He sat up, his face donning a large grin as he waved to you, quickly pointing to the cell phone propped up against his ear. You gave him a shy wave back, turning back to the microwave, soon to be beeping with your meal. You ate dinner alone at the kitchen table, nothing but the sound of Bucky’s roaring laughter bouncing off your ear. By the time you finished, you tossed the bowl into the sink, making your way up to your bedroom.

“Ok, yeah, I’ve gotta go – ” Bucky said into the phone, before interrupting himself with a chuckle, laughing at whatever the person on the other end said. “Yes, I have to go. Yeah, no, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

You shut the door before he could get off the couch and flopped straight into bed, groaning. All you wanted to do was fall right asleep, unbothered. That’s when Bucky came in and plopped himself right down on the bed next to you. “Hey, babe,” he greeted you, giving you a light pat on the ass.

“Hey, Buck,” you replied, tucking your arms up underneath your head, propping your head up on your hands. You offered him a tired smile, gazing into his adoring blue eyes. “Who was that on the phone?”

“It was nobody,” he replied, quickly changing the subject. “How was work?”

Well that was extremely unlike him. You already knew all his friends. If it was one of them, he would’ve just said so. But it clearly wasn’t, especially considering how giggly he was on the phone. You just narrowed your eyes at him, breezing right past it. “Good – tiring,” you corrected. “But this contract closes out next week, so hopefully not that many more long days after that.”

“Good to hear, I know you can get it done, baby,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.

…

The next day, you were met with nearly the same sight. Bucky on the couch, but this time, dinner was covered on the stove. “Thanks for cooking, Buck,” you call to him, taking the lid off the pot and serving yourself a plate. He jumped from the couch and came up behind you, hugging you from behind and kissing your neck.

“Anytime, baby.” He pressed another smooch to your neck before stepping back and grabbing a bottle of wine from the counter. He poured up to glasses, situating himself at one end of the table, waiting for you to join him at the other end. Once you do, your phone rings from your purse. You drop your head back with a groan. “You should probably get that,” Bucky offered, reaching for your purse and holding it out to you.

You give him a quiet “thank you,” and answer the call. Not even before you can answer it, he’s pulling out his own phone and texting away on it. You take your call at the table, a quick last-minute question from a colleague. You tried to focus on what he was saying on the other line, but all you could do was stare at Bucky, smiling down at his phone, furiously typing away.

“No problem, Dave. Thanks for taking a look at it, we can finish up tomorrow morning,” you say into the phone, offering a quick goodbye before hanging up and digging into your food, glaring at Bucky from under your eyelashes. He still sat on his phone, laughing to himself. Once he heard your knife slide against the plate, he locked his phone, shoving it back into his pocket and looking up at you, starting another conversation about your day. You quickly changed the subject to him.

You internally rolled your eyes. All you got was talking about your day and whatever girl on the other end got giggly Bucky? Whenever work got busy, your relationship got boring. It may have been partially your fault: short tempered, tired; you put everything into your work and maybe not enough into Bucky. But your jealousy issues got the better of you. Maybe he was just talking to Sam? Or laughing at memes with Steve – they had a lot to catch up on, afterall. But if so, wouldn’t he just say that instead of saying he was talking to “nobody?”

But your paranoia was actually well placed and almost deserving. Bucky still graced the covers of magazines and newspapers. The attention people gave you quickly died down after the one-year mark on your relationship. You didn’t mind, all it was just a little more peace in your day-to-day life. That same attention never did (and never would) die down for him. He still saved the world; more importantly, he was still hot. Meaning the tabloids would continue to try to stir up trouble with him and every woman he knew. They wanted to play matchmaker, constantly shipping him with the other beautiful women he spent time with – whether that be at work or not. Thinking about all that and Bucky’s charismatic personality was almost too much for you.

…

The third night in a row where you’d come home past nine. The first night without dinner. You were met with an empty apartment, no food, no lights, not a single sign of life. You tossed your bag on the table and immediately called for takeout. As you waited for your Chinese food to arrive, you changed into your pajamas, and called Bucky.

No answer.

All you wanted was to lay on the couch and feast with him. If you were going to stuff your face, you wanted it to be with someone who really knew how to eat. After trying again with no answer, you dropped your phone on the coffee table and began flipping through the channels on TV. Not finding anything good to watch, but also deciding you didn’t have the mental capacity to watch something new, you threw on some Friends reruns. Something you could watch without having to pay attention: just what you were in the mood for.

When the doorbell rang, you jumped, almost forgetting you ordered food. You swung open the door, half expecting to find Bucky on the other side, but you were instead met with the delivery boy. You paid the guy and took the food to the living room, feasting on the couch straight from the little takeaway containers. You didn’t do this often, but damn, it was relaxing.

You picked up your phone: no notifications.

There were a few excuses you made up for him as you stuffed your face with noodles. He could be in the middle of training. You knew him and Steve too well, and knew they always had enough supersoldier energy to fit a workout in anywhere and anytime. That, or he could just be busy. Maybe a work thing came up – he does save the world for a living, afterall. He could just be at the tower. It’s not like he officially lived with you. (It was unofficial, though; he did spend nearly every other night sleeping here with you. And if he didn’t, he would at least give you a reason why he wasn’t). But you’re not his mother or his gatekeeper. There was no reason he absolutely had to tell you where he was and that he wasn’t coming over – that was crazy. But it was just…

Unlike him.

Even if he was at the tower, why wouldn’t he answer?

And as you continued onto your dumplings, you quickly began comfort eating, as your mind traveled to the worst reason you could make up.

Afterall, he never told you who he was laughing on the phone with all this time. He couldn’t even stop himself from laughing at his texts – it was blatantly obvious. There’s no way Reddit could be that funny. You scoffed. It probably was some girl – maybe that blonde from the party. You had no idea of knowing who, but you surely couldn’t stop yourself from speculating.

You called again.

Again.

Again.

You just wanted to hear his voice.

You just wanted to know he was okay.

Okay and alone.

American, my American, American boy You know it's my American boy

It wasn’t every day that you thought about Bucky in such a way. Honestly, you didn’t like to think about the other women that he might be friends (or more) with. It was just your own little fucked up indulgence.

Against your best judgement, Bucky convinced you to go to another one of Tony’s parties. “It’s Steve’s birthday party, (Y/N), you have to go!”

So, you did go. And just like the very first time you met Bucky – at one of these parties – you dragged yourself out of bed and got all dressed up to head to the event. You knew even Steve wouldn’t want such a big celebration, so you’d at least have one person to mope around with.

You held on to Bucky the whole night; your arm gripping his metal bicep as the two of you mingled. Bucky liked having you tucked into his side all night, the warmth of your body pressed up against his arm. “Hey, Stevie,” you greeted him, offering a warm hug. “Happy birthday!”

“Thanks, (Y/N),” he replied, hugging you, then Bucky. “Happy Independence Day,” he added.

Bucky’s hand immediately snaked around your waste, pulling your hip against his.

It wasn’t until he left to use the bathroom that you suddenly felt naked. You almost wanted to wrap your arms around yourself in comfort. You felt stupid – you were in a room full of friends, people you knew, that you liked. Yet, every time you were in this setting, you never felt more insecure.

And apparently it showed.

You were joined by none-other than the reason for your insecurity. “(Y/N),” she greeted you with a curt nod.

“Hey, Natasha,” you responded, taking a long sip of your drink. She watched you under lidded eyes, her red lips pursing slightly. She looked great, of course, her royal blue dress hugging her curves tightly, he heels adding extra height the both of you knew she didn’t need. “What’s up?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “Enjoying the night?”

Now it was your turn to shrug. “As much as I can, I guess. I’ve been waiting for the fireworks show. It was the best last year.”

She nodded, this time taking a swig of her own drink. “Tony sure does know how to throw a party.”

“Yeah,” you scoffed. “He’s thrown enough of them.”

The two of you stood in silence for a moment; it wasn’t super comfortable for you, but she sure didn’t seem to notice – or care. “You seem a little on edge.”

She wanted you to out yourself. Surely, she was going to pull it out of you somehow. “Not really my scene,” you noted, swirling the ice around in your glass.

“Look, (Y/N),” she began, obviously confirming your suspicion. “There’s never been anything between me and Bucky. In fact – ” she glanced around the room, eyes stopping on a particular man. “ – I’ve got a few skeletons of my own.” You tried to follow her line of sight, but the crowd was too thick in that direction. “He loves you so stop trying to find things wrong with your relationship. He may have been a charming guy back in the day, but you’ve got him wrapped around your finger.” She winked, a small smile building across her plump red lips.

You didn’t even know what to say in that moment. You gawked at her – at Black Widow hyping you up? Was that her way of doing it? Hell, she could tell you that you intimidated every single person in this room, and you’d take it as the biggest compliment ever. To hear about your power from her? Practically an honor.

“Hey,” Bucky spoke up from behind you as he returned. “What’s goin’ on over here?”

“Just girl talk,” Natasha replied before heading off.

Bucky turned to you, confused. “What’s that about?”

You stared at her as she walked away, swaying her hips and heading for the man she mentioned earlier. “I’m not too sure,” you said slowly, mesmerized by her walk.

Bucky’s hand in yours made you turn up towards him, meeting his blue eyes. “Ready to get out of here?” He whispered lowly.

You bit your lip and nodded, setting your glass down and squeezing his hand in both of yours.

Bucky carried you from the front door to the bed; he placed you down on top of the mattress like you were made of glass. He kissed your lips like he was going off to war, but he tasted like he’d just returned.

His hands ran furiously over your back, eventually resting on the zipper and tugging downwards; your hands ran all over his chest, tugging his shirt open, no regard for the buttons. He started peeling your dress off your body as you leaned back on the bed, working on taking off your bra while he discarded the dress on the floor. He followed suit, discarding his clothes before returning to the bed, covering your body with his warm one. His flesh hand cupped your jaw, the other holding his balance on the bed. Your arms wrapped around his neck one hand holding the back of his neck, pulling him closer to you, deepening the kiss, while the other ran through his tangled hair. You interlocked your legs around his waist, pulling yourself upwards to grind on his hard cock.

He moaned into your mouth, grinding back into you, reveling in just the feeling of your wetness gliding against his cock. His hand left your face to grab your ass, giving it a firm squeeze before he pinned your hips to the mattress with his own, humping against you. You whispered against him, pleading: “Bucky, please,” you whispered against his lips.

His mouth skidded down your cheek and past your jawline to suck a sloppy kiss onto your neck. As his face was buried in your shoulder, making his way down to your breast, his hand found its way between your hips, stroking your soaked lips. You hummed and gripped his hair as his finger split the difference, prodding its way into your soaked entrance. As two other fingers joined in, curling inside of your pussy, he licked your nipple, biting the pebbled nub softly. “You’re so wet, baby. Love how you’re always so wet for me.”

“Only for you, James,” you whispered, blissed out, head falling back against the mattress as his thumb found your clit, rubbing small circles under the hood. You felt a jolt up your body, your pussy instinctively clenching against his fingers.

He let out a deep breath, kissing your breast before planting a wet kiss to your lips, fingers not faltering. “I love you, (Y/N),” he murmured against your lips.

You opened your eyes, meeting his staring down at you, glazed over with lust. “I love you, baby,” you breathed, tilting your head up to kiss him again.

He pulled away from you, fingers stilling, long forgotten in the moment. “No, baby – ” he stopped, staring down at you, pleading with you, please understand. “Only you.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. Tears burning the back of your eyes. You bit your lip, nodding, not trusting your words as a few tears fell from the sides of your eyes, rolling down your skin to the mattress. He kissed you feverishly, teeth chipping against each other’s, lips and tongues sloppily sliding over each other, sharing air.

He pulled his hand away from your thighs, not moving far to line up his dick to your now soaked and desperate pussy. Your breath hitched as he pushed the tip in; all the air Bucky held in his lungs suddenly escaped him. “Fuck, extra tight for me tonight, huh?” You moaned, trying to rock your hips against his, his bodyweight pinning you down. “Eager, baby,” he groaned from the back of his throat.

“Please, baby,” you begged, fisting the sheets, using all your energy to grind against him. “Please.”

Please.

Please.

He complied, snapping his hips down into yours, his big dick stretching your walls. You yelped out, your opening burning as it welcomed his length. His cock curved upwards, hitting deep inside you as he swiftly moved his hips back and forth, quick rhythm never erring. His hand fell to your lower stomach, as he pressed his hand firmly above your public bone. “Mmm, look, baby, I can feel my dick in you,” he whispered, reveling in the feeling as his dick bottomed out inside of you. He felt the tip through the soft flesh of your belly – boy, you felt it, too. Every time he pounded into you felt your head spin. You saw nothing but black, stars blinding your vision at every thrust.

You nearly snaked your hand down to your clit for your final release, but he pulled your hand away, pinning it to the mattress above your head. He sat up on his knees, grabbing your other hand and joining it with the other, holding them both down to the mattress under the grasp on his metal hand. As he returned to leaning over you, sliding his dick back in your pussy, his flesh hand returned to your clit, rubbing in fast circles. You screamed, thighs coming together, snapping tightly against his hips.

That wouldn’t stop him. You weren’t strong enough to hold him in place; he kept fucking you into the mattress, your body shaking wildly as your legs were tied around him. Your back arched off the bed as your pussy throbbed. “Yeah, baby, squeezing my dick with your tight little pussy, huh?” You screamed out and nodded your head wildly, clenching around his cock as the pressure on your clit built up. “Fuck, you’re so good to me – made for me.”

You pulled against his metal arm, body convulsing underneath him. He watched with anticipation, biting his own lip nearly bloody as he pushed you over the edge of your orgasm. You yelped out, gasping for air as your eyes squeezed tight. Your legs shook around him, fingers clawing at his metal plated hand. Bucky could come along just from watching you tremble mid orgasm. But, god, your tight pussy quiver around him surely helped. He fucked you harder, the last few strokes hard and fast. He came with a groan, spilling his hot seed into your soaked cunt.

He whispered curse words to himself as he fucked his dick soft, mixing your own juices together before falling on top of you, pressing his lips to your neck, littering hickeys all over.

As he felt your post orgasm breathing change, he picked his head up, kissing all the way up your neck and jaw until he could look fully down at you. “Hey, baby, no,” he cooed once he caught sight of your watery eyes. “Why are you crying?” He kissed away the tears running down your cheeks.

You smiled at him, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to his lips. “’M fine, Buck – I just,” you huffed, rolling your teary eyes at yourself, thinking it all suddenly stupid. “I’m sorry – ”

“’s nothing to be sorry for, baby,” he whispered against the shell of your ear.

Your fingers grazed through his hair again, scratching slightly at his scalp. He knew. He knew what you were talking about. He always did – he always understood everything you did or said. “I love you, James.”

“I love you, (Y/N),” he murmured with one final kiss. “Only you.”

[bubblyani]

The Flannel Giant

(Flip Zimmerman x Black!Female Reader)

A Flip Zimmerman One Shot

Rating: Mature

Request: flip zimmerman x black! female reader ?? it could be literally anything im just so desperate 😞💕 thank you if you do and even if you dont thanks for writing ! - @pastelhybristophiliac​

Author’s Note: This man is a literal thirst quencher. So this fic did not take long to form. I did take some time to write it cause I wanted it to be as perfect as it possibly could be. Plus, my very first Black! Female Reader fic. Hope y’all enjoy!

Colorado Springs Police Department.

The sign just said it all.

Exhaling deeply, you began to walk towards the building. Your steps were slow, as if you were doubting yourself. And you could not help remembering the phone conversation you had with your friend Patrice an hour earlier.

“But Patrice! Why do I have to be the one to do it ?” You asked.

“Because you’re the one who saw it happen...” She said, “We can’t just let this go...” persuasion was strong in her voice.

“I know ...but-“

“Do you not want to go to the police Y/N?”

You paused. For she caught you there. “Maybe...” You began, as you twisted the phone chord “Can’t trust those pigs”

 “Not all of them are...” Patrice said, “Ron isn’t a pig. And even his coworkers are nice”

You scoffed. “Maybe that’s cause they all know you through Ron”

“Just go will you” Sighing, you nodded to thin air. “Fine”

Unwilling to break the promise, there you were, walking towards the building. With another deep breath, you entered with a cause.

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

“Ma’am? Can I help you?”

A man in uniform inquired upon seeing you in the hallway. Directed towards the Intelligence Division, you stood there confused in the hallway. You noticed his name tag: Sgt Trapp.

“Uh yes Sergeant...” you said softly, entering the room he gestured you into, “I’m here to see Ron Stallworth”

“Oh, I’m sorry but he’s not in today” Sergeant Trapp replied.

As you glanced upon the empty desk next to you, you realized he was right. Embarrassingly, you sighed heavily. But that realization came at a cost when there was a room full of men at work, possible detectives typing away reports in their typewriters. Yet now, they were all looking at you.

Except one particular person, who kept  busy with his files.

All this staring made you quite uncomfortable. But being a black woman, this was nothing new.

“It’s just that...” you began “I was told to give a statement...” you continued, “... about the attacks that ...that happened last Friday” taking a deep breath, You added , “...during the Black Student Union meeting”

Suddenly, the sound of scribbles were stopped, and the occupied man looked up from his files. As you only saw his back, you could only notice the full head of raven locks that was filled with.

“Flip...” a grey haired man addressed the raven haired man, “...aren’t you working on that case too?” Standing up, Flip finally turned to face you.

“Yeah. Why don’t I-“ He paused, a few seconds upon seeing you, “...take...your statement” He said softly, his eyes never leaving your sight.

It had been a while since a man had left you with quite an impression. You thought you were so hard to please.

Until that very moment.

He was taller than the others in the room, almost gigantic. His dark blue flannel shirt along with the leather holsters complimented his wide shoulders perfectly. With his raven long hair elongating his face, you swore you were breathless.

And surprisingly, you weren’t intimidated by the room anymore. 

“Flip Zimmerman...” he said in his deep, soothing voice, “Please. Take a seat” ushering you to Ron’s seat as the sergeant pulled it out for you.

“Thanks...” you replied, “Y/N Y/L/N”

Like a spell wearing off, the others quickly resumed working as Detective Flip Zimmerman took your statement.

His pace was comforting, you felt calm. You answered all questions with confidence and detail. But at the same time, you wondered how you were able to maintain that whenever he looked at you. You could tell he listened to you with intent. And whenever he was not jotting down notes, his eyes were always on you. 

“...and just like that...they just ran off from there” you said, crossing your legs.

Reaching out to one of his files, Flip took out a photograph. “Did they happen to look like this?” He asked, showing it to you. In the effort to being polite, you merely leaned forward to look. Your eyes widened.

“Yeah! They’re the ones!” You replied with enthusiasm.

Snapping his fingers, Flip nodded. “Knew it!” He said, looking at his partner, “Jimmy, Ron was right...” he muttered softly.

Jimmy looked at you. “Okay...” he said, “Thank you Ma’am for coming in...I think we got all that we need”

“We did?”

“You did?”

Realizing you and Flip both inquired Jimmy in unison, you could not help but stifle a chuckle. And you hide it well. Clearing his throat, Flip began as he looked back at you.

“Yeah...we did” he said, standing up, “Thank you...Miss Y/L/N?”

Smiling warmly, you stood up in kind. “Yeah ...Miss Y/L/N...” You said, as you exited the room.

Smiles were abundant on your face as you walked out of the precinct, which was quite the contradiction compared to a few minutes before. Quite the interesting interaction it turned out to be. And you weren’t the only one to agree.

“Man...” Jimmy began, watching you walk out, “She is a beaut, huh?” “Mmm...”

Flip merely acknowledged as he sat down. Looking at his partner, Jimmy was no fool to not notice.

“Well well...look who’s getting chummy now?” he said, inciting a chuckle out of Flip.

“Fuck you, Jimmy” he said while laughing, trying to hide his subtle blush.

“No really Flip...“ Jimmy teased, “I’ve never seen you like this...”

“Fuuuck Youuu!” 

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

Days went by. And all was just as it should be. You carried on with everything.

Except, there was a new distraction in your head.

Detective Flip Zimmerman. The Flannel Giant.

The mere thought of him made you smile to yourself every single time. So much that sometimes you’d get in trouble when others asked you what was wrong.

“Y’all! she found herself a brother to love. All good!”

You’d smile shyly and cleverly move on to another conversation. You did not know how everyone would feel about you having a soft spot for a white man. Let alone a white police detective. But it wasn’t for you to choose. You couldn’t steer the heart. The heart steered you. And you did not mind. 

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

The soapy bubbles covered your hand like a glove as you washed the dishes over the sink. The radio softly played in the living room on a Thursday afternoon.

The ring of the doorbell forced  you to finish the washing with haste. You wondered if it was Patrice, needing a textbook for class. Wiping your hands with your apron, you opened the door, only to find yourself lose your breath.

For it was Flip Zimmerman standing there.

“Ms. Y/L/N” he said softly, giving a soft smile. You involuntarily smiled back.

“Hey” you breathed, “Wait! How did you know where I live?”

“You gave it to us...” Flip said, “When you came to the precinct”

“Oh...of course”you chuckled embarrassingly at your own carelessness, “Please...come in...”

You found it surprising how you just let him in without even asking the purpose. He was just that easygoing.

“I’m sorry about this I was Uh...washing dishes...” you said embarrassingly as you invited him to sit on the sofa.

“Yeah Hehe...I can tell...” Nodding, Flip chuckled, watching you toss away the apron and sit on the armchair across from him.

The detective had come bringing forth good news. The two perpetrators behind the attacks were indeed members of the organization. Thanks to your valuable information they were arrested and will be tried. A huge wave of relief washed over you upon hearing the news. You couldn’t help but clasp your hands together with happiness. 

“Oh, Detective Zimmerman, this is just wonderful”

“Flip...” he corrected in an instant, “you can call me Flip”

“Okay...” you nodded, “Flip” you added with the sincerest form of affection.

With lips parted slightly, Flip nodded back. As if he was in mid contemplation.

“Anyways, Thank You very much for your cooperation Ms. Y/L/N”

Your heart sank upon hearing those words, when he stood up to leave.

“I-I’m so sorry I couldn’t even offer you a beverage” you said, standing up“You came all this way-” “Oh no no...” shaking his head, the flannel giant responded, “I was in the neighborhood”

Unwillingly yet enslaved to politeness, you made your way towards the door.

With your grip on the handle, you knew this could be the last time you’ll ever see him again. The case was closed, faster than you imagined.

“Thanks do much for coming, Flip” you said, halfway opening the door. “My pleasure, Ms. Y/L/N”

“It’s Y/N...”  this time you took the opportunity to correct him. “Y/N...”

His voice, you never heard it softer than you did just then. Standing merely inches away, he stood so tall before you. As your heartbeat began to quicken, as your cheeks started to burn, you knew the effect this man had on you was no joke. You did not want this to be the last time.

With the blink of an eye, his face seemed to appear centimeters away ,only to glue his lips on yours. And that was when you knew he felt the same.

The kiss was gentle. It was sweet and innocent. His facial hair sent shivers down your spine. But that just the first taste.

Lips were met once again for more experimentation, signaling your hand to push the door back and lock it tight.

The silent attraction that was developed between both parties from the first meeting seemed quite evident now.

Flip’s masculine hands made themselves home on your waist, moving behind to grab onto your buttocks. The way his hands felt you, made the white cotton of your short dress seem nonexistent when he pulled you closer to him.

Jumping into his arms felt effortless as he held you with ease. With your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms around his neck, you were comfortable as expected, body lines fitting with his like puzzle pieces.

The sounds of heavy breathing and kisses began to infuse with the soft sounds of the radio. Making himself comfortable on the couch, Flip was hospitable with you straddling him.

The kisses grew heated as his tongue caressed your own, deepening its connection and weakening you by the knees. Your moans echoed within him, urging you to hold him tightly by the collar. Indulging in pleasure, your body was naturally inclined to roll your hips against him.

But, all plans seemed to fly out the window when the telephone rang loudly, forcing both of you to pull away with surprise. Stretching out, you clumsily grabbed the phone.

“H-hello?”

“Y/N? It’s Patrice”

“Oh hey!” You greeted her breathlessly, keeping your balance as you held on to Flip.

There was a slight pause.

“You alright?” Patrice sounded serious as she inquired , “You sound weird”

“Yeah yeah I was just uh....dancing”

Covering the bottom half of the phone, you playfully slapped Flip on the shoulder in order to stop him from breaking into loud laughter.

“Oh...anyways, you coming tonight for the party-”

“I’m busy...” you cut her off, “Sorry Pat. Busy night tonight”

Finally hanging up, you blushed deeply upon seeing Flip‘s eyes that burned with desire. For there you were, with lips so swollen, straddling a man you barely knew oh so casually. Shyly, you allowed yourself to fall back on the couch next to him.

“Well...” Flip began, panting “this was-”

“....unexpected?-“ you guessed, panting alongside him.

“...Great...” clearing his throat, he revealed his final answer ”...this was really great”

Giggles erupted out of you in response , only to stop when he leaned towards you. Fully meaning well of what he just expressed, his lips greedily captured yours, enabling you to catch his scent easily while doing so.

“Bet your partner is wondering what’s taking ya so long to get back” you breathed into his lips, as he pulled away once again “Do you think he knows something’s up?”

“Maybe..” he said, staring at the wall ahead of him in thought. “Or maybe...with the case successfully solved, you invited me out for a drink....” Flip added, looking back at you, fueling inspiration, “...only if you wanted to-”

“I want to...” Your answer, it was so quick, so certain. And hearing his response was simply worth answering.

“Good...”

——————————————————

[laylacooke]

Ain’t No Rest For The Wicked || Sam & Layla

timing:  Thursday Morning at Took’s General Store parties: @hackysackace & @laylacooke Summary: Layla loses her job and possibly a friend. Warnings: Some violence towards the end. 

“Ain’t No Rest for The Wicked” played faintly out of the speakers hanging high above in Took’s. Layla had already been late for her shift. She wasn’t wearing the required uniform, and she was snacking on something that looked like it had been sitting on the shelf for as long as the store had been in business. “How did I end up at such a BORING job again?” She sighed loudly. Raising one eyebrow, she hopped off the counter she was sitting on, towards the front of the store. It was nearly empty, but it still didn’t stop the few patrons wandering around from staring at her or in her general direction.

Sam looked up from where he’d been scrubbing the store floor, shoes covered in suds as he moved and swept the mob across the entryway in the aftermath of a syrup and beer incident. “Hey Layla,” he said, sizing her up with an expression of confusion. “Uh, Bill’s gonna want you to put the uniform on when you’re not in the stockroom…” 

Finishing off whatever crumbs remained from her snack, Layla tossed the bag on the floor. Hearing Sam’s voice, she wandered through the aisles with her fingers slapping into the products hanging from hooks and sitting on shelves, “Oh, is he? Well, what if I don’t have it?” She slowly inched her way closer to Sam as she stared at the few customers giving her a once over, “What are you looking at?” Sending a hiss their way, the redhead laughed at the jumpy reactions.

Sam’s puzzlement deepened into a frown whose edges were crinkled with uncertainty. Widened blue eyes glanced from Layla to the heckled customers. “Uh, then you’ll need to get back to the stockroom,” he said upon rising to his feet and gingerly lowering the mop back into the suds bucket. After propping up a doubled-sided yellow “Wet Floor Sign”, Sam crossed the distance to where Layla was doing her Wicked Witch of the Northeast impression. “Heh uh,” he ventured in a cautiously low voice. “You ok?” 

“The stockroom huh? You gonna handle this big store all by yourself?” She glanced around. Took’s wasn’t Walmart sized, but it was a lot for one person to take care of. Layla watched as Sam made his way towards her. Had she been any closer to where he was moping, she would have kicked the sign over, but instead, she stopped and pulled a bag of Veggie Straws off the shelf. Crumpling the bag in her hands in order to form a nice multicolored powder, she popped open the bag and dumped the contents onto the floor spreading the dust around with her foot, “Missed a spot, and I’m great. Haven’t felt this good in a long time.” Dropping the empty Veggie Straws bag into his bucket of water, she made her way towards the back as requested, now, having the opportunity to kick the “Wet Floor” sign down. 

Honestly Sam didn’t relish the thought of manning the floor all by himself with this many people here. He was about to apologize and suggest some other alternative but then Veggie Straws got scattered all over the floor and in the scud bucket. Striding over the fallen sign, Sam tried to catch up to Layla. “Woah what is...Layla what’s the matter with you?! Why…”

She was almost back to the stockroom, when she heard him come up behind her, “Uh, because I can? I don’t see you trying to stop me. Besides, I’m sick of this town walking all over me or telling me I’m too weak. Or to quit whining.” It was like she had a bone to pick with whoever crossed her path, whether it be friends or complete strangers. She had already wreaked havoc all over town, and Took’s General Store was just another place Layla was working on checking off her list. Any remorse she had felt was non-existent now, and while she resented Salva for giving her the curse of being a werewolf, she was starting to relish in the idea of no longer having a conscience. After all, what was the point? She was just a monster to most. Why not act like one and give the people what they wanted.

Sam’s soft features were blank and lost during Layla’s explanation. About the most violent thing Sam ever engaged in was Lacrosse and hauling thrashing Atlantic tuna into the fishing rig. He hadn’t really considered forcefully stopping her, but the taunt still burnt a little. “Look,” Sam pleaded, “you’re not weak. I’m sure you’d do awesome in soccer and can do a lotta reps,” the high school athlete said, perhaps misunderstanding Layla’s deeper meaning. “But, weren’t you just saying you wanted normalcy and all that? Boss is gonna be pissed if stuff is wrecked. C’mon, ill clean this up and we’ll get you a new uniform.” 

“Soccer? You’re thinking about Ariana. I’m a cheerleader.” She turned on her heels to face him, an evil smirk poised on her blood red lips, and blocked his path, “Come on, Sammy Boy. Be aggressive. Be-e aggressive.” She slowly inched forward clapping her hands along with the cheer, increasing the taunt. “Be aggressive. Be-e aggressive.” Before long, she was right up on him, and instead of clapping, she was pushing him backwards as she resumed her chant. Hoping he would fight back. Layla wanted action. The wolf inside of her wanted action, and he was giving her nothing in return

Sam Rainsbottom was an athletic young man with a filled-out frame, much like his father. Although Sam’s mellow mien and boyish features didn’t lend themselves to an intimidating bearing. But being pushed around by a hot girl in front of a bunch of staring customers was emasculating enough to kindle a spark of anger. “Cut it out,” he snapped. “The hell are you doing?!” Sam’s shoulders squared and he stopped stepping backward again Layla’s pushes, choosing to hold his ground. “I don’t know if you're fickin high of what,” Sam snapped, voiced heated but still low enough that it carried only to the two of them. He made no move against Layla however, just holding his place. “But maybe you need to sign out. I’ll cover your shift.” 

Layla stopped chanting, giving him one last firm shove that sent him nowhere, “Well look who finally grew a pair.” The smirk was a wide grin. “Never seen you so angry, Sam. What’s the matter? Afraid a girl might actually be stronger than you are?” She cocked her head to the side, before pulling her long, red hair over to the opposite shoulder. Seeing the people staring at them, she flashed her yellow eyes and bared her fangs, causing them to scatter, and the bell over the door to ring continuously until no one, but Sam and Layla remained. Glancing back to Sam, she gave him a firm pat on the shoulder, “There you go, Buddy. Store’s empty. Now the real fun can start.” Pushing past him, a hard shoulder going into his arm and chest, she started to move down the aisles tossing shit onto the floor, “Let’s see what Bossman thinks now?” 

Holy shit.

Sam had willingly taken a few steps back when Layla had unveiled luminous that seemed almost luminous, and bared fangs that looked like they punch though his forearm like tissue paper. The young woman scowled at himself for losing his grip like that. But those prosthetics looked almost...uh...well they were pretty high quality for sure. “It’s not about who's stronger Layla. You’re running off customers, messing up stock! You could get fired!” 

She stopped what she was doing, and sighed loudly, “Does  it  look  like  I  care? Half this shit’s probably been sitting on the shelves since before your born. Now, do you want to help me or are you going to be a problem?” There was no real motive behind what she was doing. Layla was purely enjoying it for the chaos she was causing; the consequences going straight out the door.

Sam Rainbottom was no saint and had committed all the usual chicanery one might expect of teenage fellows who are perhaps a bit too easily swayed by their peers. However, school roof-climbing, pranks, questionable choices of the sex drive were one thing. Trashing the store in broad daylight where store cameras were likely recording them was another matter, however. 

Sam squared his shoulders and walked up to Layla, blissfully unaware that he was approaching a creature who could rip him in half and grabbed at the latest item she was about to throw on the floor. “I’m going to be a problem. You need to stop.” Sam’s normally placid pond-blue eyes had hardened and chilled in anger. “Now.”

Seeing Sam come over got her heart beating harder in her chest, but what he had said, she didn’t like. His authoritative tone had reminded her of her parents, and the hell they had put her through. A low growl in her throat and claws pushing out of her fingertips, she snarled, “That was the wrong answer, Sam. The wrong fucking answer.” Lowering her head, Layla charged him and shoved him as hard as she could; her wolf strength sending his buff form into the row of shelves behind them.

At this point she didn’t care if she had hurt him or not. Instead, she continued to destroy the store making sure to take extra care of ripping things up with her claws. If he didn’t want a mess, she was going to give him one. She was taking this as seriously as he had gotten with her. As seriously as her parents took hunting, making it very clear that she needed to as well. Her own personal vendetta being released on Sam and Took’s out of the twisted thoughts that lingered her mind now.

There was a ringing in Sam’s head as he tried to get his bearings. Everything was darkness, strange twisting shades. His ribs spasmed and Sam’s curled into a ball on the floor as he tried to cough in harsh rasping breaths. Sam was enough of an athlete to know that some ribs and his shoulder were dislocated, maybe broken. Flares of pain and cold numbness seared through his chest and spine. Being thrown through metal shelving had opened multiple lacerations before he’d impacted the floor headfirst. There was warmth against his cheek as blood welled from his forehead and temple in a growing pool on the linoleum floor. 

Sam didn’t have the thought capacity to consider how a willowy-seeming girl about his age could throw him like that and nearly broken his ribs when Sam’s gotten through plenty of Lacrosse and Football games just fine. There was only pain, darkness, strange colors of vertigo, the mingled warmth and cold of bleeding out. 

Making sure to trash every inch of the place, she didn’t stop until she was done. Bottles lay busted with soda, beer, and other sticky stuff on the floor. Food lay exposed or crushed. Fishing poles, tackle, and other random items that were contained in the walls of Took’s looked as if it were the holidays and there was a rush on the latest deals. She had successfully wrecked a town staple all out of her own form vengeance for all the hurt she had been put through. All while Sam Rainbottem lay in a crumpled-up heap on the floor.

Giving her masterpiece of destruction one last look, a sinister smile slipped over her blood red lips, and without hanging around any longer, Layla found her way out in the street humming the tune of “Ain’t No Rest For The Wicked” by Cage the Elephant, not giving a second thought to how much trouble she had just gotten herself into.

[big-bad-ulf]

The Prodigal Wolf Returns || Ulfric & Winn

Timing: Midday, Thursday 4th of June  Parties: @packsbeforesnacks, @big-bad-ulf Summary: Ulfric meets with Winn to discuss what drove him out of town, and consider their next moves.  Warnings: Mentions of assisted suicide, depression, and grief.

The clearing in the woods was quiet, remote, and neutral. Somewhere they could both feel at home, but that neither could claim ownership of. Hearing footsteps approaching, Ulfric dropped the cigarette stub between his fingers, stamping it out into the leaf litter below to conceal most of the evidence of the bad habit he’d picked up again after Celeste’s passing, though the smoke still lingered accusingly. “I suppose thanks are in order, for coming all the way out here,” he greeted Winn stoically, before finally turning to face the returned wolf. “As you’re aware, I’m not the one who you need to explain your actions to.” He hoped it was apparent he meant Layla and Ariana, but the young man didn’t have the best track record thinking things through to their logical conclusion. “But I’d like one, because as it stands I can’t imagine a scenario in which ‘sparring’ with a tiny human girl while in wolf form was necessary? Nor was fleeing town when you knew others of your kind were in danger.” The older werewolf’s tone was tired, weighed down by the collective suffering of White Crest’s pack over the last few weeks, but an anger borne of disappointment simmered beneath the weariness. 

Winn had been dreadin’ this conversation since he’d figured out everyone thought he’d skipped town. Ulfric was… intimidating, to say the absolute least. Winn could handle teenagers. He could handle folks in his own (relative) age group. And Simon was, well, kind, in a way that he wasn’t sure Ulfric was. But part of the problem was that he didn’t know Ulfric. Didn’t know most of the wolves, really, all friendliness aside. So, worst-case scenario, Ulfirc hated him. Best case scenario, Ulfric thought he was an idiot. As he entered the clearing, smoke tickled his nose. The Full Moon was on them and Winn was pretty sure he’d have smelled it even if Ulfric hadn’t just been smoking, but he stowed the frown. It wasn’t his place to judge someone’s habits; he’d had bad habits of his own. Still had some. “I appreciate it,” Winn said, “but it’s unnecessary. I should thank you, for bein’ willing to hear me out.” He leaned against a tree, scrubbing at his eyes. Reconciling with his father and (part of) his former pack hadn’t helped his sleep, much as he wanted it to and, with Natalia out of town, he was running low on aram. “Talked to both of them. Only one left that knew, I think, is you.”

He weighed what he knew about Blanche in his mind, what he knew about Ulfric, and his newfound fondness for the truth. “Blanche is… like a sister, to me. She’s a trouble magnet. If there’s supernatural nonsense goin’ on in White Crest, I head her way. ‘Cause chances are, if she isn’t already involved, she will be in, like, an hour. I know it was stupid, thought I had better control than I did. After I got a hold of myself, I dipped, for just a few minutes. Came back, told Blanche that I was leavin’ to take care of some things, left a note somewhere I thought she’d find it. Phone had been dead before that, and I figured if she told folks I was gone, they’d know that I’d be back soon and couldn’t really make a twelve-hour drive shorter.” Winn sighed. “That’s usually the part of the story where folks have questions, so hit me. Oh, right. Social media. A shirtless photo of mine got flagged and, since I didn’t have my phone, I couldn’t contest the deactivation. That one was just coincidence. Lady Luck wasn’t in my favor.”

“It was stupid,” Ulfric confirmed when Winn was through with his explanation. He crossed his arms and paced in a tight, restless pattern as he weighed the other wolf’s actions, to decide what needed asking. It wasn’t like he could pass any judgment in an official sense, it would be up to Layla and Ariana and any of the other wolves who felt slighted to decide for themselves how they felt and how they wanted to interact with him on a personal level. But as a more experienced wolf, he felt obligated to address the aspects of Winn’s behavior that had the potential to harm the entire pack, or even their entire species. “I understand this girl means something to you, but we don’t need to be teaching more humans how to fight us.” Not that it was likely a human of average strength would stand much of a chance, even with whatever ‘mind powers’ Blanche supposedly possessed, but that was beside the point, their weaknesses were meant to stay between them. “Learning that would only help her against our kind, and if you’re worried any one of us is a threat to her that’s something that can be dealt with internally… It’s the fact you don’t seem to know your limits that troubles me most, though.”

Ulfric stopped and stood his ground as he came to that conclusion, looking over Winn appraisingly as he remembered the young wolf bragging about having killed a hunter. He’d chalked it up to mostly harmless arrogance at the time, but when he later explained he hadn’t done it on purpose that should’ve raised more red flags than it had. “You don’t seem like you’re that new to this. You should have a better grasp of how much control you do or don’t have. So, I suppose my questions are, do you know what pushed you over the edge? What do you plan to do to ensure this doesn’t happen again?”

Winn tried not to bristle at the half-accusation, pushing himself off the tree and walking towards Ulfric as, hopefully, non-threateningly as possible. “With all due respect, I never said that I was trainin’ her to take out wolves,” he said. And he hadn’t been! Werewolves were just big and so were, what, half of the things B would run into? “She only knows the bare minimum, assumin’ she hasn’t talked to Kaden ‘bout his other job. Ain’t hard for a human to try silver, given only every story about us tends to revolve ‘round that fact.” He took a deep breath, exhaling through his nose. “But we can argue ‘bout Blanche later, it’s not like I’ll be sparrin’ with her in wolf form again.”

“It worries me, too. ‘Cause I’ve…” he paused, looking up into the canopy to choose his words carefully. “Let me backtrack. You don’t know much about me, and it might be… helpful. Since you’re the wolf ‘round here with the most experience…” Now, Winn was pacing. “I was turned almost eight years ago. The only turned wolf in a pack of, uh, werewolf fraternity brothers, down south. They guided me through my first dozen shifts, taught me how to be calm. So, believe me when I say: I have plenty of control, ‘specially for not havin’ been a wolf all my life. And don’t get your britches in a bunch, I know that sounds like bullshit, right now.” Winn ran a hand through his hair, uncomfortable with the conclusions he was beginning to draw about his time ‘changed.’ “I said I accidentally killed a Hunter… well, that was half-true. The accident was my own — I was sleepin’ with a Hunter, didn’t know he was a Hunter. The killing was on purpose. Self-defense, when he abused my trust, tried to go after my pack.

“After that, I was in… a dark place. That would’a been late 2015. Next thing I remember, I was in Europe, staggering in my human form out of the woods in early 2018. Thought, until recently, I’d spent a year or two in and out of my wolf form… but, I’m startin’ to question that. Couple theories’ve been tossed around, maybe it isn’t true. But when I… attacked B, it felt different. On a Moon, when I let the wolf come to the forefront… even when I was tryin’ to keep us separate, I still knew what was goin’ on. But with B, I don’t remember anything between getting thrown into a tree and pullin’ myself back from the brink. It was, well, dissociative is maybe the closest way to say it. I was there, and then I wasn’t. I’ve never lost control like that. Not even, y’know, when I was still new at this. It’s… it’s like hittin’ that tree pulled something out of me, something from under my conscious. I— Have you ever heard of anything like that? Where a wolf just… wasn’t himself, or even his wolf self? Even if it had been, say, Ariana, I don’t think it would’ve changed it. I still think that… part of me would want to attack everything.”

“There’s no need for that if you’re not going to do it again.” Ulfric agreed with Winn’s statement about Blanche. Truthfully, he did not want to be having this argument in the first place. A good old-fashioned brawl could be cathartic but having to play the role of stern lecturer just made feel weary, worn-out, and old. Running wild together, celebrating a successful hunt, sharing tales of old legends and recent exploits, those were the things he’d looked forward to about being a part of a pack again. Having to step up and confront things that put them in jeopardy was a responsibility that came with that privilege, but not one he enjoyed or hoped to have to take up often.

The older werewolf couldn’t contain a small grimace of disgust upon hearing Winn’s story. The chance that they might be a hunter was one of the many reasons it was a bad idea to get involved that way with humans, but he didn’t bother to voice his opinion on that. The man was an adult capable of making his own choices and he’d also spent a lot of his life as a human, so it was easy to see where that mistake had come from. Besides, it seemed he’d more than learned his lesson on that front.

“I’m sorry that you had to go through that. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been to come back from a betrayal like that.” Ulfric replied at last, because the tale was tragic, if difficult for him to relate to on a personal level. “I haven’t heard of wolves entering an abnormal state like that,” Of course, his own ‘wolf self’ was similar in some ways to what Winn had described, an entirely animalistic being, but even then it retained the animal instinct not to attack its own kind without severe provocation and the risk of that side of himself emerging outside of a full moon was very low. “It seems the answers may lie in what happened in those lost years. What are the theories?” Staying transformed for the better part of years… Was such a thing truly possible? Ulfric could’ve almost been jealous of Winn for having that freedom from morals and responsibilities of the human world for so long, if the suffering it was causing him now wasn’t so apparent.

“Have you tried… it could be possible, or so I’ve heard, to bring some memories back through mystical means.” He suggested hesitantly. “I don’t like getting involved with such things, but you can’t just… go on the way you are, not without having to isolate yourself.” And that was the last thing he wanted for any of his kind, regardless of whether he held them in high regard or not. “If something were to bring on this feral state in front of a crowd that would mean disaster for all of us. And I’m sure you know that,” He leveled the younger wolf with a hard-nosed look. “Even if some of your actions suggest a distinct lack of judgment of the more mundane variety.”   

“I— Thanks.” Winn frowned, stopping his pacing as Ulfric spoke. “I have a… friend, who looked into some, uh, wolf causes. Didn’t find much, some reports of wolves stayin’ transformed who went… feral, who couldn’t change back into their human form.” What Rio had told him had scared him, but it hadn’t felt, well… correct. It seemed like even those wolves had the sense to not attack other wolves, that they retained some of their humanity, even if they became more animal than human. ‘Course, many of them didn’t live to tell their tale, and the records that Rio had found could only tell them so much. Some had been written by Hunters, others written by a wolf who had to put one of his own down. But Winn had come back, which seemed to be the wrinkle. No Hunter had ever tried to bring a wolf back to themselves, but not even a packmate could. So, if Winn had been transformed, how could he have come back?

“Given I’m back, though, my friend and I ruled that out. ‘Specially for a bitten wolf to come back from bein’ feral? Seemed unlikely. Not when there was another explanation. Which is, um…” Alright, okay. He could admit this aloud. “My dad is a huxian. He thinks it might be mystical, yeah. Somethin’ taken from me, or somethin’ I gave up.”

He swallowed, mouth dry. “I’m still tryin’ other avenues. R— My friend is lookin’ into… side-effects of wolfsbane. What shit street wolfsbane might get spiked with. I—” Winn scratched at his arms, almost wishin’ that he was wearin’ a shirt. “I took wolfsbane for months, after I killed that Hunter. Blamed myself for what happened to the pack. And I guess I… stopped.” He looked up into the canopy. “But you’re right. I need to figure out my shit, so I don’t put us all at risk. And, short of goin’ back on the wolfsbane — which I’m not gonna do — we really don’t have any leads. If there’s… a part of me, that’s missin’, then I don’t want to go on like this. I can’t. Even if…” Well, there was always this part. Winn looked back down at Ulfric, mouth set in a hard line. “Don’t… I don’t want your pity. This isn’t y’all’s problem, but there’s… well, if I’m missin’ two years, there’s a chance that…” He coughed. 

“There’s this Hunter I know. Luke mentioned him at the meeting. He… If I did somethin’ bad, hurt an innocent life, he’s the one I trust to… put an end to me. But I don’t want him knowin’ about what happened with B, and— I don’t know what could happen, if I get those memories back. No one I’ve talked to so far does. But if he’s… if I’m different, if I try to hurt someone, I need y’all to be willin’ to stop me. If that happens… As the person I am now, I want you… to take me down. If you can’t kill me, let me rot. If I can’t control myself, I am… I am not more important than all of you.” His voice was hoarse, tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t remember crying this much in a very long time, but he needed to be firm. “Promise me. Please. I’m sorry, so sorry, to put that burden on you.” He held out his hand, for the other wolf to take, to seal the pact. “But it has to be done.”

As Winn’s explanation continued, it became more and more clear to Ulfric that his actions couldn’t be explained away by stupidity or cowardice. That was a shame really, both of those causes would’ve been much easier to deal with than this mystery of missing memory. Everything Winn said seemed to introduce a new piece to the puzzle (Huxians, wolfsbane, and of course, the seemingly inescapable interference of hunters), but it was unclear how they whole fit together or how much of a threat would be revealed when the big picture came together. When the young wolf came to the end of his speech and what he was asking him to do sunk in, Ulfric’s blood ran cold. Protecting the pack was paramount, but the thought of killing another wolf was profane, it would be the ultimate sacrilege towards the gift his ancestors had bestowed upon him. 

“I’m not going to sit idly by and let you harm other members of the pack, of that you can be certain,” he answered carefully, considering his options. If Winn were to slip into a permanent state of mindless, unbridled aggression, the usual ‘last resort’ of exile would do little to keep him from returning and causing havoc in their territory. Caging was another possibility, but he knew if their circumstances were reversed, he’d prefer a quick death over a life spent in chains, and it seemed the young man would as well. And finally, allowing hunters to deal with him in that state would only further inflame their hatred towards his kind, along with being plain undignified. “If your continued existence poses a threat to their survival, I promise you, I’ll do what needs to be done.” Ulfric accepted after a long moment’s deliberation, giving Winn’s hand a firm, resolute shake, though the clamminess of his palm betrayed his instinctual, visceral reaction against the plan. “Let’s not let it come to that though,” He added, more of an instruction than a hope. “I’ve had my fill of death for the time being.” 

““Thank you,” Winn said, quietly. “But… Agreed. Don’t want it to come to that.” It wasn’t that Winn hadn’t considered his death before. Hell, after what had happened with his old pack, there had been times where he’d… well, where he’d really considered dying. Winn liked to think he was better, now. If not totally well-adjusted, at least pretty solid on the ‘me dying wouldn’t fix the issue’ mantra. Counseling helped that, and learning about counseling only reinforced it. Which is part of why he knew: “I need those memories back, though. Even if it hurts, or if there’s… a reason I buried them. Now that I know they might not be there, it’s like… it’s like I can feel the space where they used to be. They’re a blindspot, sure, but more than that they’re… part of me. I can’t…” He sighed, sitting down on the forest floor and breathing in the woods for a moment before continuing. “As I am now, I can’t imagine what reason I could have had to bury them or… take them? I don’t know anybody who’d have the answers. Plus, there’s all the shit with Luke, and what happened with Ari, and… Fuck, man, I haven’t even asked you how you’re doing. I… I mean, I didn’t know Celeste, but I talked to Ari some, and… I know it’s a cheap question, but are you okay, Ulfric?”

“I think I can understand that. Why you’d want them back.” Ulfric assured him. He was familiar with having gaps in his memory, though he’d never had much choice in the matter. Berserkers had lost the ability to remember most of their actions while transformed centuries ago, and their intentions behind that, if there were any, were shrouded in mystery and myth. He did have a choice, though, between taking the easy way out and walking away from the carnage he’d caused while in wolf form and reconstructing what happened during that time as best he could. Ever since his ill-thought-out vengeance against the hunters who took his younger siblings, he’d chosen to do the latter. Chosen to look at the carnage and accept why it had happened, and that it was a part of him.

 “What we do is what we are,” he pondered aloud, before directing his attention back on Winn more fully. “I respect your choice and wish you luck. You can count on me for… whatever it is you think I can provide.” Which wasn’t much, given his lack of expertise in the realm of the magical. He couldn’t even truthfully say he’d provide friendly support, because he was still too wary of the young wolf and the potential danger he posed to the pack as a whole to consider him a friend. An alliance was clearly in both their best interests though, so Ulfric refrained from repeating his earlier comments about not wanting any help from him when he asked how he was. “I’ll survive, so will you,” he stated simply and firmly instead, almost ordering the fates to make it so. “Any other option doesn’t bear thinking about.” The older wolf turned briskly and took off into the trees. Action was required of both of them, if the White Crest pack was ever going to be able to consider itself safe. They could spare no more time for conjecture and contemplation.

[bubbleteatae]

Puppy Love - Part 4

Read previous parts here

pairing: idol!Taehyung x reader

warnings: none.

authors note: I’m sorry if it’s seeming a bit slow at the moment, I don’t want to rush the story and want to make sure their relationship develops realistically. Thank you so much to those who have read it so far and for your lovely messages, it honestly makes my day! I hope you enjoy what’s to come x

Taehyung’s POV

“So you’re really just going to stay friends?” Jimin asked. 

Jimin, Yoongi and I were sat in our living area of our shared dorm, ignoring the television playing softly in the background as we talked over a drink. I had finally mustered up the courage to tell someone else about my past few days with Y/N, and how much I was falling for her.

I nodded “you know what comes with being an idol.”

“There’s a bit of a difference between dating around, and actually being in a proper relationship” Yoongi pointed out.

Jimin nodded at Yoongi’s comment “you’re always saying how you plan to settle down one day-”

“Jimin” I cut in “I only just met her!”

“I know” he smiled “but from what you’ve told us she sounds perfect for you.”

I sighed. 

“It can’t hurt to take things slow, and be friends first” Yoongi hummed “but if you really like this girl I think you should go for it.”

Yoongi wasn’t one to say much, but when he did it was insightful and came from the heart.

I nodded, taking a sip from the glass bottle “I guess I can see how things go.” I smiled to myself “she’s really cool.”

“So when can your best friend meet her?” Jimin asked excitedly.

“I wouldn’t call that taking things slow, Jimin-ah” I laughed.

Y/N’s POV

It had been about 2 weeks since Taehyung took me out for dinner, his busy schedule meant that we were limited to conversing via text (and the occasional phone call).  

I came to accept the flirting was just a part of his charming nature, and tried to suppress the ongoing feelings I had for him for the sake of our friendship, which had become much closer over the past few weeks. 

I had just got home from work that evening and placed my bag on the table when I was startled from my thoughts by the sound of my phone ringing. My hopes that it was Taehyung was confirmed, when I saw his name lit up on the screen. 

“Hello” I cheerfully greeted, my tired mood instantly disappearing at the sound of his voice.

“Hello, how was work?” He asked.

“Not bad, but I’ve been at a computer screen basically all day and I’m so ready to pass out! How was rehearsal?”

“Good! I won’t keep you for long so you can get some rest”

“Oh? What’s up?” I asked.

“Well, the boys and I are having a small party this Saturday night, just to catch up with some friends and have a bit of a break from everything. And I’d love it if you could be there.. if your haven’t already got plans of course” Taehyung said hopefully.

I was not expecting to be invited to a social gathering so early into our friendship. Or even at all. “Really? I mean, are you sure it’s okay for me to be there? I don’t want to intr-”

“Of course! It’s just at the dorm. And the other boys really want to meet you!”

“Well I’d love to then!”

On the other end of the line, Taehyung made a sound that resembled some form of celebration, causing me to laugh!

“I’ll text you the address, yeah?” he said. “Oh and it’s nothing fancy so don’t feel like you have to get dressed up or anything.”

“Okay” I smiled through the phone.

“We’ll see you on Saturday! Bye Y/N”

“Bye Taehyung.”

                                                            ***

2 days later 

I pulled up at the address Taehyung had text me on Thursday night, and unlocked my phone to message him. He had told me to let him know when I was here, so he could let me up. Obviously their dorm security had to be tight.

I checked the time, 7:26. He said to come around 7, so I made sure not to arrive too early (as much as I was literally waiting around all day to see him). 

Within a few seconds my phone dinged with his message, and I tried to think too much into his fast reply.

T: 🤗😄 come to the front door and I’ll let you in!

After a quick reply, I locked my car and made my way to the front of the house. Before I had managed to reach the door I heard a beeping sound followed by a click - what I assume would be their security - and the door swung open, greeting me with a signature boxy smile. 

“Y/N!” Taehyung exclaimed, immediately pulling me in for a tight hug, causing me to naturally inhale his scent. “I’m so glad you could make it, come on up”

“I’m glad I could see you again” I smiled, which he immediately returned.

“Me too. There’s not a heap of people - maybe around fifteen or so - so we’ll definitely have time to catch up” he smiled with his lips tight, cheeks instantly puffing up. 

We walked up a flight of stairs and down a hallway, framed pictures of what I came to know were BTS’ albums.

“You’ve released so much music” I said, admiring the different albums.

Taehyung chuckled, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly “the Korean music industry doesn’t mess around.” 

I could hear muffled excitement coming from the other side of the door, only to escape when Taehyung pushed it open. I followed him inside to a room full of people mingling, most of them drink in hand. Their voices were only slightly louder than the booming music in the background.

“Jimin!” Taehyung called out, as he pulled me through a sea of people.

“Taehyung, where did you get to?” a young man laughed back. I was astounded at how attractive, or rather beautiful, this man was. 

“I was just making sure Y/N got inside okay” he smiled towards me, almost causing me to miss his friend subtly raising his eyebrows at Tae. 

“Jimin, this is my friend Y/N” Jimin politely held out his hand to shake. “Y/N, this Jimin.”

“Y/N, it’s nice to finally meet you.” Jimin smiled as softly as his handshake.

“You too!” 

I felt a hand gently rest against the small of my back, and turned to meet Taehyung’s wide eyes. “Can I get you something to drink?” He asked warmly.

“That would be nice, thanks” I smiled telling him what I would like. He nodded, insisting I stay as he went to get them. 

I suddenly felt shy without him next to me. 

“Taehyung has told us all so much about you” Jimin spoke.

“Oh god” I laughed “I hope nothing bad”

“Not at all, he speaks very highly of you.”

I could feel my cheeks darken, and was thankful when what seemed to be another one of Taehyung’s friends interrupted the conversation.

“Jungkook, this is Y/N” Jimin introduced.

“You’re Taehyung’s friend, yes?” I nodded. “I’m Jungkook” he said, flashing an adorable smile.  

“It’s nice to finally meet you all” I smiled back. “So, you all live together in the dorm?” I asked, trying to make a good impression.

“Only when we have a lot of rehearsing or work to do. During our off time we have our own apartments” Jungkook replied as a hand slapped onto his shoulder.

“Mm, it’s good when we can get a break from each other. Honestly, some of them can be so loud at times”

Jungkook and Jimin laughed, introducing another member, Yoongi. He had such a laid back, cool demenior, it was hard not to feel a little intimidated.

As if I had known, I turned to see Taehyung walking back over with two drinks in hand. I instantly smiled as I made eye contact with him. “I hope they’re not annoying you” he accused, placing the cold cup in my hand. I didn’t fail to notice the way his hand brushed softly against mine, as if on purpose.

Yoongi placed his hand on his heart, over-dramatically looking hurt by his friend’s comment, only to result in Taehyung rolling his eyes. 

“I’ll introduce you to Jin, Hoseok and Namjoon” he replied, dragging me away from his teasing friends. 

                                                        ***

It was later into the evening, and I was sat on the couch socialising with Taehyung and his friends. Only having the basics of Korean, it was difficult to keep up with their fast paced conversations, but Taehyung ensured that he still included me in their conversations.

Sitting next to him on the couch I was fully aware of his thigh pressing against my own. Each movement he made shifted my attention to him and how his check pants brushed against the skin just below the hem of my dress. 

“Taehyung?” I leaned in to him, speaking quietly.

“Hmm?”

“Um.. where’s the bathroom?” I asked.

“Oh!” He laughed, pointing to the hallway. “Just down the end of the hallway on the right.”

“Thanks, I’ll be back” I said, making sure my dress sat perfectly as I stood up.

As I walked back from the bathroom, I noticed Hoseok cleaning up some of the neglected empty red cups and food stained plates left on the bench.

“Need a hand?” I smiled, stacking those out of his reach.

“Y/N!” He smiled with a giggle. “Oh no, you’re a guest!”

“It’s okay, I like helping.”

He nodded with a smile, thanking me, before placing another stack of rubbish into a bin bag. 

We chatted lightly amongst the two of us, until one comment caught me off guard.

“So you and Taehyung, huh?” he said so casually, causing me to knock over the plastic cups I was cleaning up, earning a laugh from him.

I laughed nervously. “Oh we’re just friends” I smiled, feeling my cheeks begin to burn.

Hoseok cocked his eyebrows up, nodding “friends don’t look at each like that..”

I stared at him.

“I’ve noticed the both of you all night, neither of you are exactly subtle” he laughed. 

“I.. well..” I was lost for what to say to him, especially only knowing him for a few hours.

But Hoseok just smiled emphatically “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”

“Oh, no. It’s fine! You.. you just caught me off guard a little” I laughed, probably a bit too forceful.

“You’re cool, Y/N. Just know that I’m rooting for you both” he winked. 

[mr-chrisevans]

Meet Cute - pt. 9

Word Count: 1,561

First Chapter | Last Chapter | Next Chapter

"There she is!" I was greeted by the glowing faces of Casey, Jules, and Estelle as I got back from work. "Hurry up and change so we can start drinking now." Casey told me as I shut the door behind me.

"I didn't realize we were having a little shindig this evening." I said as I walked back to my room and stripped out of my work clothes and changed into something more comfortable. As I changed I heard Estelle working the blender, clearly preparing margaritas for us all. "I hope you are actually doing an acceptable ratio of tequila to mix this time." I said as I sat down at the kitchen counter next to Jules. "Last time we were basically drinking an entire glass of tequila."

"Not to mention it was the worst tequila I've ever tasted in my life." Jules added with a shudder.

"Hey, give me a break. Last time I had spent most of my pay check covering part of that ones rent." She raised her eyebrow at me and returned to the margaritas.

"And I have never been late on rent since then." I responded.

Estelle started pouring her concoction into our glasses when Casey exclaimed from the couch. "Oh my God. Laurel, come here." I tried to protest, but she kept insisting.

"What are you even watching?" I asked as she rewinded the tv.

"Just shut up and look." She finally pressed play and I realized why she was so insistent.

"In recent news, Chris Evans is back in LA after finishing up filming on The Avengers. And it seems like he's back with Mystery Woman from earlier this year." The disembodied narrator spoke as a picture of Chris and I at dinner when we saw each other again was plastered on the tv. As much as I hated it, it was a great picture. The two of us were mid-laugh, but he was looking right at me and the look on his face... I don't even know how to describe it.

I could feel all my friends eyes on me as I sat there looking at the tv, trying to figure out what I was thinking. I turned to Casey. "It's okay, really. I honestly can't be surprised about it anymore so it is what it is. Now let's completely ignore this and get back to getting drunk."

And drunk we got. Jules and Casey passed out in the living room and Estelle and I covered them with blankets and brought out a wastebasket just in case. After I said goodnight to Estelle and went into my room, I saw that I had two unread texts, one from Adam and one from Chris.

Adam

I should be back from my conference on Thursday, wanna get together next weekend?

I closed out of that conversation without answering and opened Chris' message.

Chris

Are you free tomorrow night?

Laurel

Depends on what the activity is.

Chris

How good are you at planning parties? I've been roped in to hosting a Halloween party this year and I think I'm in way over my head.

Laurel

I guess I'm coming to your rescue.

*****

So we were friends.

And it was fine. We were making it work.

It wasn't like we were spending all our time together either. We would see each other a couple times a month, and everything was normal. Well, I wanted to seem like everything was normal. I had told myself that I didn't have feelings for Chris anymore as an excuse to get to see him and not feel guilty about it. That didn't work so well for me.

I rang Chris' doorbell and was greeted by his bulldog running up to the door and barking at full force. I saw Chris sprint after him and scoop him up before opening the door. "Someone is very excited to see you." He laughed.

"I'm so happy to see you too, East." I loved on East for a little before I turned to Chris. "Not terrible to see you either." I joked and gave him a hug after he set East back down.

"I guess it's good to know where I stand in this house."

"It's always a good idea to have your priorities straight." We made our way into his living room where he had beers set out for the both of us. "Looks like you do have your priorities all set." I laughed as we sat down on the couch.

"Hey, if I'm gonna be forced to plan this party I might as well find some way to enjoy myself." He grabbed his beer, leaned back into the couch and propped his feet up on the coffee table.

I crossed my arms and stared at him. "I'm glad you're enjoying being able to lounge, but I will not let you invite me here just to plan this whole thing by myself."

He sat up straight and looked me directly in the eye. "You are absolutely correct. No more lazing around it's all work from here on out." I could tell he was purposefully being annoying, but I just rolled my eyes. He relaxed and spoke again. "Okay, where do we start?"

"Well, you should probably make a list so you know what you need to buy. Have you thought about anything that you want so far?" He shook his head. "You are woefully unprepared." I said under my breath. "Let's start with alcohol because that is definitely the most important part of this holiday."

"I could not agree more." He said and leaned forward as I typed out a list on my phone. "Jungle Juice?" He questioned as he inspected my list.

"Look, I know we're not 19 and in college but there's really no better way to get plastered and have fun doing it." I responded.

"Well, I never went to college but maybe this will finally give me that experience I've been yearning for."

The next couple of hours were a mix of us actually planning the party and continuing to catch up from our time apart. Being with him was so easy. It didn't feel like I had to force anything he was genuinely interested in what I had to say. Time had gotten away from us, and before I knew it I got an annoyed text from Estelle saying if I didn't get home in the next 30 minutes she was ordering Chinese without me. "Estelle is threatening to leave me without food tonight, so I should probably get going." I told him as I stood up and grabbed my now long empty beer bottle.

"Shit, when did it get so late?" He got up too and cleared his stuff from the table. "Thanks for helping me out with this." He said as we walked into the kitchen. "I would not have been able to get my shit together enough to actually plan this as well as you did."

"I'm always available to come to the rescue. This better mean I'm on the invite list though."

"No, I was really just using you for your planning skills. I didn't actually want to see you there." He joked and I playfully slapped his arm. "Of course not." He said through laughs. "If anyone deserves the credit for planning what will definitely be the best party I've ever thrown it will have to be you."

"You're lucky I'm not asking to be paid for my services." I poked his chest, trying to come of as intimidating but it clearly didn't work.

"I'm extremely lucky." He said and held onto my arm. We locked eyes with each other and both fell quiet, unconsciously drifting closer together until we could feel each other's breath. He leaned down and lingered just before my face. Those few seconds felt like hours until I finally closed the distance between us and our lips crashed together. His arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me closer in to him. I ran my fingers through his hair and pulled him deeper into the kiss. I had tried to forget how amazing kissing him felt, but I knew now that I never would. Everything about it was perfect. Every part of me felt alive and ready for whatever might happen. No one else could make me feel like that.

We pulled apart and I tried to catch my breath. It took me a few seconds to really realize what had happened. "Oh fuck." I muttered and stepped away from him, his arms falling away from me and back to his sides.

"Shit. Laurel, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

I didn't even know how to respond so I stood in the kitchen across from him, silent for what felt like years. "I should go." I said suddenly and walked back into the living room to grab my things.

He stopped me at the door before I could leave. "Please don't be mad. I'm so sorry."

"I'm not mad. I just-" I took a deep breath. "I just need to think about something. But I'll see you at the party." I smiled at him and walked out to my car.

I needed to figure out what the fuck I was feeling and fast otherwise I'd be caught in a mess that I did not want to deal with.

[cakesunflower]

Quiet Hours [College!Luke AU] Ch. 2

Previous Chapter: Chapter 1

Chapter 2

HANDS TRAVELED THE length of Ophelia’s body, lips claiming hers after detaching from her neck as she inhaled sharply through her nose. The guy—Patrick, a boy Ophelia occasionally had a thing with whenever she came to this frat house—tasted like beer and cigarettes, though she assumed she was no better after having taken a few vodka shots herself. But still, she couldn’t find herself enjoying this as much as she should be and usually did. As much as she wanted to. Pat was pretty cute, one of the brothers of the frat she was in at the moment, and he made her feel good enough, but she just wasn’t feeling it tonight.

Which she found pretty damn annoying, seeing as she was the one who had sought him out to hook up with for the night.

But as Pat’s cold hands gripped her waist from under her loose crop top as he pressed into her, Ophelia’s lower back was digging into the door handle, and it was all she could do to not bite his lip too hard from the shot of pain that ran up her back. Random hook ups weren’t made into a habit by Ophelia, but whenever she came to Sigma Phi, she would end up with Pat just to pass the night when she got sick of dancing and drinking. More often than not, Ophelia really had to be in the mood to have a one night stand, and while she thought she was in that mood tonight, she was being proven wrong pretty fast, growing more and more uncomfortable as the seconds went on.  

The music playing throughout the fraternity subtly vibrated the door Ophelia was pressed against, and against her she could feel just how excited Pat was, and she felt an embarrassed flush heat her cheeks at the knowledge she was going to have to end this now. She also felt kind of guilty, getting him all riled up and in his bedroom only to tell him this couldn’t happen tonight.

“W-Wait, wait,” Ophelia finally said, breathlessly as she tore her lips from Pat’s. Her chest rose and fell quickly as she tried to catch her breath, hazel eyes flickering up to meet Pat’s own hesitantly. His, though, were dilated and darkened with absolute arousal. With her hands pressed against his chest, she apologetically said, “I’m sorry, I—I can’t do this tonight.”

Pat blinked, trying to calm himself down as he leaned back a bit. His hands were still on the skin of her waist as he confusedly asked, “something wrong?”

Ophelia bit the inside of her cheek, a guilty flush taking over her, though it wasn’t her fault she wasn’t in the mood. She hadn’t meant to lead Pat along, especially when she thought she wanted this; if she didn’t wanna have sex, she wasn’t going to force herself just because she felt bad. But Pat looked genuinely confused, and even a bit concerned that he had done something wrong, and she decided she didn’t want to make him feel bad or think something was the matter with him.

“I just—” she began, thinking of a quick excuse as she shot him a shy smile. It was fake, but it also kind of wasn’t. She just hoped it didn’t come off as a grimace because of what her next word were about to be. “I’m sorry, but I honestly forgot that I’m on my period.”

It was an embarrassingly intimate yet justifiable excuse, but Ophelia was hoping it’d do the trick while at the risk of making her appear like a total idiot because, really, what girl just forgot she was on her period? She was also kind of hoping that Pat wouldn’t see it as an opportunity for them to do something other than sex, praying he wouldn’t suggest anything else. Fortunately for her, realization dawned on Pat’s face as he pulled away, hands dropping from her waist and taking a step back as he rubbed the back of his neck. Ophelia now did feel a bit bad, because the guy looked sheepish, but not enough to tell him she was kidding and jump his bones.

Saving him the trouble of saying anything or intensifying the already compromising situation, Ophelia gave an awkward smile as her hand reached behind her back, gripping onto the door handle as she muttered, “I’m just gonna—yeah,” was all she got out before swiftly opening the door and expertly slinking out, the music suddenly louder as she widened her eyes at the situation she was just in, hurrying down the hall and away from the door.

The frat house, unsurprisingly, wreaked of alcohol and weed as Ophelia made her way down the wide hallway, dodging people who were lingering around before finding an open door that led to the bathroom. She shut the door behind her, locking it and letting out a breath of relief as the music once again became muffled—though, not completely. Her eyes glanced around, mildly surprised at how clean the bathroom was, before her gaze flickered to her reflection in the mirror and her jaw slackened at the sight.

Her lips were slightly swollen from all of the kissing, which she expected, but the darkening bruises on her neck were a hazy surprise. Ophelia vaguely remembered Pat’d lips on her skin, but she did not recall him actually leaving any marks. She counted them, totaling two red-purplish bruises decorating the side of her neck and another one on the lower right side of her throat.

Brushing her hair forward, Ophelia let out a huff, realizing that while her strands could maybe cover the hickies on the side of her neck, the one by the base of her throat was in full viewing pleasure. She enjoyed the act of receiving them, but wearing them was another thing. “Awesome,” she muttered to herself while pulling out her phone. The time read 1:39, and Ophelia would be lying if she didn’t wanna head back. The buzz of the alcohol in her system had died long ago, and now all she wanted to do was go home, which she attempted to make happen as she texted in her friends’ group chat.

I’m gonna head to the front of the house. I’m ready to go home please!!

She hoped that at least one of her friends saw the message as she exited the bathroom, the intoxicating scent of alcohol and drugs assaulting her senses as she began making her way out of the house. It was ridiculously hot in here because of the amount of people inside, despite it being a September night, though the basement in which everyone had been gathered was boiling. Eventually, after pushing past drunken peers, Ophelia made her way outside of the house. Some people were lingering about, though Ophelia didn’t blame them as she felt a cold breeze raise goose bumps on her skin yet was entirely welcomed. Her phone buzzed, and she pulled out to see a message from Isabelle.

I’ve got Laurel. She’s shitfaced. About to come outside.

Ophelia let out a sigh of relief, knowing that they weren’t going to have to wait for Tanya tonight. She had a thing going on with one of the brothers of the house, and every time the girls would come to their parties, Tanya would stay the night with Shawn Price.

Moments later, Ophelia saw Isabelle stumble out with an obviously inhibited Laurel, holding the blonde girl with an arm around her waist and the other holding Laurel’s arm around her shoulders. Ophelia sighed, rushing to Laurel’s other side and helping Isabelle with the drunken girl, who exclaimed happily, “oh, my Gosh, Lia, hi!”

It was a ten minute walk back to their apartment building, but Ophelia could swear it felt like an hour because of how much they had to keep Laurel from stumbling. When the elevator opened to their floor, Ophelia let out a sigh of relief as they dragged Laurel to their apartment, and irritation sparked through Ophelia as the closer they got to their door, the louder the music playing in the apartment that came before them got.

Ophelia was ready to knock the hell out as soon as she and Isabelle put Laurel to bed, and she couldn’t do that when an unrecognizable yet loud song was vibrating the walls of the hallway. She could only imagine how blaring it would be from her room. Isabelle, taking notice of the twitch in her best friend’s eye, nodded, “take care of it. I’ve got Laurel,” before taking the giggling inhibited girl and entering the apartment. She was too exasperated with their drunk roommate to notice the marks on Ophelia’s neck. Isabelle hated being sober when her friends were drunk.

The green eyed girl ran her fingers through her hair, pushing it back as she backtracked and stopped in front of the apartment with the number 4102 written on the door. The music was loud, and although she was admittedly impressed by their taste, she didn’t want to be hearing it when she was about to go to bed. It was only a matter of time until the occupants of the four other apartment residents began complaining if they were there.

So, raising her fist, she began banging on the door to overpower the music as she yelled, “R.A.!”

She stood with her arms crossed over her chest impatiently, hearing shuffling on the other side as the music lowered—only a bit, not enough where she couldn’t feel it. Moments later the door was swinging open, only enough for a lean body to appear in the space between the door and frame, the broad figure making it incapable for Ophelia to peer over or even around him.

Her eyes met a pair of familiar blue ones, and the twenty year old girl tried to appear unaffected at the sight of Luke standing there in a black socks, skinny jeans, and black muscle tee that gave her the glorious view of his arms. “R.A. Ophelia,” his smooth, accented voice greeted, right arm leaning above on the door frame as his left hand gripped the doorknob on his side. Luke’s lips stretched into a small smirk, “what can I do you for?”

Whatever song that had been playing was louder and clearer now that the door was open, and Ophelia inhaled sharply through her nose as she glared up at the tall boy, knowing she didn’t look the least bit intimidating but not caring. “Keep it down,” she demanded, her tone tight and annoyed. “People are trying to sleep.”

Luke’s eyebrows quirked. “It’s Thursday night, we’re just having a bit of fun, darling,” he drawled, and Ophelia ignored the weird lurch she felt her heart do at the term. Instead, she focused on his words, refraining from rolling her eyes at Luke’s excuse of actually using Thirsty Thursday as getaway to be rowdy. But then she saw how his bright blue eyes flickered to something lower than where her eyes were, the corner of his lips tugging up into a more prominent smirk as he shifted to lean against the doorframe on his arm. “Just like you have been, it seems.”

The hazel eyed girl stared up at him, a puzzled frown on her face as Luke jutted his chin forward. He was smirking knowingly at her, and it wasn’t until his gaze dropped lower once again when a light bulb went off in her head. Oh, God, he was talking about the very hickeys she’d fruitlessly attempted to hide earlier. An embarrassed flush took over her face as she realized that the bruises on her neck were in full view, being exactly what Luke was referring to as he referenced her having fun. Moments like these were what reminded her of why she always covered the marks up, not wanting to deal with the embarrassment that came whenever someone pointed them out. It wasn’t a big deal, she knew, but the last thing Ophelia wanted to do was go to class one morning and forget to cover up any marks she happened to be sporting, all in view of her professors. That would be mortifying.

There were times when Ophelia was a confident twenty year old girl who had one night stands. But more often than not, she was also a girl who got easily embarrassed; this being a prime example of the latter.

She wondered if her face was red to match how hot it felt, pushing her hair over her right shoulder as a fruitless attempt to hide the marks, though she knew she wasn’t doing anything as a deep, throaty chuckle rumbled from Luke. Amusement was lighting up his blue eyes as he looked down at her, the music from inside his apartment changing to a one of the few songs by The Maine that she recognized.

Trying to keep her wits about her, Ophelia cleared her throat as she shot him a look, praying she didn’t still appear as mortified as she felt. “Just lower your damn music. It’s rude to the other residents.”

“I think it’s rude that you’re walking around parading those hickeys, but I’m not sayin’ anythin’.”

Ophelia’s jaw dropped at Luke’s smart comment, a breath choking in her throat as she stared at him incredulously. She was convinced that smirk was a permanent feature of his stupidly good looking face, biting into the corner of his lower lip as he pushed himself off the doorframe and leaned back, looking at her wolfishly. For the second time since she’s met him, the Australian blonde threw a wink at Ophelia before shutting the door on her gaping form as he cheekily said, “goodnight, R.A. Ophelia.”

                                                                  *****

Despite it being a Friday night with frat parties going on, The Hideout was the place to be during those nights. It was a dive bar just a few minutes off campus, where lots of the students came to hang out for the night; especially since Friday nights from five in the afternoon to closing was half apps. That’s exactly where Ophelia found herself, sitting on a high stool at a high circular table with her friends, eating from a shared plate of nachos as the sounds of classic rock music, people talking and laughing, and pool balls clunking together mixed.

Sometimes she felt like she didn’t belong in places like these, feeling misplaced amongst groups of people who felt comfortable to be here, drinking and playing pool. Ophelia wasn’t sure if these thoughts stemmed from her insecure part or awkward part, but forced herself to push through more often than not—mostly because she was here with her friends, and she loved their company.

“I can’t believe you told him you had your period,” Laurel laughed as she swallowed a nacho covered in nothing but guacamole. “That’s, like, the oldest excuse in the book.”

Ophelia let out a sheepish laugh, arms folded on top of the round table as she shrugged. “I don’t know—it’s the most effective thing I could think of. It was weird, I wanted to have sex but then I just. . . Fell out of the mood.”

Isabelle quirked a brow, taking a sip of her beer before asking seriously, “was he not big enough?”

The dark blonde choked on her nachos as her two other friends’ laughter rung loudly over the music playing, leaning back as they did so that Ophelia feared they’d fall right off the stool. Though, since they were laughing at her expense, she didn’t think that’d be too bad of a thing. “Iz!” she gasped, staring at her best friend in flushed shock. “That’s just not it!” She didn’t even get that far with Pat before dishing out her excuse for escape, but size was definitely not the problem.

Her friends couldn’t even hear her over their laughter as Ophelia shoved some more cheesy nachos into her mouth as she shot them all glares, shaking her head at their antics. Upon doing so, her gaze landed on a booth towards the left of the bar, back straightening at the sight of the two familiar faces that were seated facing her.

One of them was Calum Hood, sitting by the wall as he laughed animatedly at something one of the people sitting opposite of him said. Ophelia guessed the other two people were Ashton Irwin and Michael Clifford, two other seniors who lived right next to her with Calum. Which is why she wasn’t surprised when her eyes flickered to the recognizable blonde next to Calum. Luke sat relaxed against the booth, leaned back as he brought his glass of beer up to his mouth, grinning into the rim as he took a sip.

Ophelia couldn’t help but keep her gaze on Luke from where she sat a mere fifteen feet away, watching as his ring clad fingers ran through his blonde hair, pushing them back on his head before he scratched at his chin. All the while he was listening to whatever Michael was saying across from him—Ophelia recognized the tattooed arm—full lips parted ever so slightly as he did so.

She tore her gaze from the group of boys before anyone caught her staring, finishing off her share of the nachos before excusing herself from the table to head to the bathroom. Ophelia flushed the toilet once she was done, washing and drying her hands as well as reapplying her gloss before exiting the bathroom. She had just turned the corner of the small secluded hallway where the bathroom was, stopping short at the figure that had suddenly appeared in front of her.

A boyishly dimpled grin spread on Luke’s face as recognition flashed across his face, staring down at the girl that barely came up to his collarbone. “R.A. Ophelia,” he greeted, blue eyes light with mirth. Luke’s broad shoulders straightened under the material of his black leather jacket, hands in the pockets. “Didn’t strike you as someone who’d come to a dive bar.”

She quirked a brow up at him, trying to ignore how naturally smooth and low his accented voice was. “That’s ‘cause you don’t know me,” was her simple, truthful reply which accompanied a light shrug.

Luke hummed with downward turned lips to express his acceptance of the fact. “Very true,” he nodded as his gaze flickered downwards. Ophelia’s neck and collarbones were exposed due to the spaghetti strapped, V-neck velvet tank top she wore under her denim jacket, and Luke’s lips tugged into a smirk at the sight of her smooth skin. “Covered up those hickies, I see; you should wear ‘em proudly.” Ophelia blinked slightly widened eyes as Luke shrugged. “A trophy for your successful night, isn’t it?”

Her cheeks flushed as she remembered the night before, although Ophelia was unsure if her face was warming up because of the rejection she threw towards Pat or the fact that Luke had seen the marks on her neck. “Nothing even happened,” she let the truth slip adamantly, before pressing her lips together at the way Luke’s eyebrows shot up in what she thought was disbelief. Why did I have to tell him that?

“Really?” Luke questioned, the word stressed in incredulity before the smirk returned to reside on his full lips. He tilted his chin up slightly and scrunched his face in knowing playfulness, “he didn’t live up to your expectations?”

Ophelia’s lips parted as the heat in her cheeks intensified, knowing exactly what Luke was talking about, feeling embarrassed and frustrated because didn’t Isabelle made the same crude remark earlier? “Wh—No!” she denied in a stammer, obviously flustered and Luke’s smirk only widened, unable to help the thoughts in his head that were saying how adorable she looked like that. Ophelia crossed her arms, looking almost defensive as she glanced away and shrugged, “I just wasn’t in the mood, sheesh.”

Luke let out a soft “huh” at that, tilting his head to the side as he peered down at the brunette. Then he clicked his tongue with a shake of his head, scoffing, “that’s a pity. The lad wasn’t doin’ his job right.” His words had Ophelia’s  eyebrows rising, eyes snapping back to look up at the Australian. Her lips were pressed together, prompting Luke’s eyes to flicker to her naturally pouty mouth that stirred something in him he knew all too well.

Locking his gaze with hers once again, Luke’s lips stretching into a devilish half smile as he made a move to step around Ophelia. However, he stopped to her right, leaning his head down enough to murmur to her still form, “if you ever wanna be with someone who actually knows what he’s doing, you know where I live, darling.”

The breath hitched in Ophelia’s throat and she was surprised she didn’t actually choke on air as Luke’s words rang in her ears and the piney scent intoxicated her nose. She was frozen where she stood, the deep chuckle Luke passed her with sending a shock up her spine she hadn’t been expecting and her heart skipping a beat or two because did he just offer to sleep with her?

Good thing they were in a bar, because Ophelia needed a drink.

tags: @crownedbyluke @irwinkitten @glitterprincelu @astroashtonio @softforcal @hotmessmichael @valentinelrh @meetashthere @hereforlukescruff @c-sainthood @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @babygirlcashton @calntynes @calumh-excess @invisiblexcth @inlovehoodx @soulmatecashton @calumsmermaid @kchillout @thewackywriter @akacalciumhood @calumculture @ohhmuke @empathycth @flannelpunkcalum @poppedpins @wrappedaroundcal @walkedhomealone @calistheloml @gettingjillywithit @hearts-to-the-sky @old-zeppelin-shirt @5sos-stan4lyfe @all-i-want-is2b-loved-by-you @calumthoodsyonce @softboycal @xhaileyreneex @rosecoloredash @asht0ns-world @cxddlyash @misskarynie @mysteriouslycali @lmao5sosimagines @monsteramongmikey @calteahood @5secondssofssummer @sublimehood @bloodlinecal @biwriting 

[ehstarwar]

the gentler gamester is the soonest winner (3/4)

“And that reminds me,” Poe says. “I got you a present.”

Now this piques Rey’s interest.

“Is it the cupcake I saw at the supermarket last Wednesday? I’ve never seen so much icing on one piece of cake; it was truly a remarkable confection.”

“Um, not exactly.” Rey tries not to let her face fall too much; she was still getting a gift, after all. “I invited Ben.”

-

Poe throws a party and is decidedly not trying to get Ben and Rey together.

-

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 2K

Read on AO3

Notes: you know that saying, 'you're going to hurt but it's gonna be worth it'? y'all know that one? tis a good mantra to have for this chapter, i think

Chapter 3: when I waked, I cried to dream again

-

“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Rey tells Poe for the 100th time that day.

“Ugh, Rey. It is past midterms. Everyone needs to blow off a little steam. Including you. Especially you, as a matter of fact.” Rey tried not to frown too hard and look like the petulant child she felt she was at the moment.

“I don’t need to blow off steam. I need to figure out a sufficient way to write about it for my physics class.”

Poe sighs and spins the office chair that was acting as a salon chair around to face him. 

“It is thursday. Thirsty Thursday. The day universally decided by college students as the day to get fucked up. I have ben very gracious about my leniency with you missing Thirsty Thursdays this semester because I know you have a large course load and have to study more often than not.” Rey was ready to accept his apology and move on and have a grand night; if Poe stopped at that, which, of course, he couldn’t.

“BUT,” he begins again, and Rey does not repress the eye roll,”this is probably the last week you’re going to accept my offer to come to Thirsty Thursday for the rest of the semester. And I, for one, want to hang out with one of my best friends before she throws herself into a self-induced solitary state for finals. So please, try and enjoy the fun events your peers and I put on for you. Please.”

Rey huffs. “You’re not even a college student,” She grumbles. Poe grins triumphantly, clearly the winner of this argument. “How would your boss, President Organa, feel about you corrupting students with wild parties?”

“Your argument is invalid because one: Leia Organa is the President of the University and Amilyn Holdo is the Director of Admission, and therefore, my boss. And two, if anyone knows the benefits of a good gathering, it’s Leia! She was quite the wild child in her day,” Poe says, expressing great admiration for President Organa. She felt it too, albeit, for different reasons.

“And that reminds me,” Poe suddenly swung the chair back around and Rey was forced to grip the handles to steady herself. “I got you a present.”

Now this piques Rey’s interest. 

“Is it the cupcake I saw at the supermarket last Wednesday? I’ve never seen so much icing on one piece of cake; it was truly a remarkable confection.”

“Um, not exactly.” Rey tries not to let her face fall too much; she was still getting a gift, after all. “I invited Ben.”

Reg grips the handles so hard she’s surprised it maintains it molecular structure of plastic. 

“Why?”

“You guys were a little weird with each other the other day, but like in a sexy way; like you guys are definitely gonna fuck at some point but neither of you know how to speak to each other. So I figured I’d help things along and invite him.”

Rey’s jaw clenches. She tries to keep her face as passive as possible, which is proving to be… challenging.

“Ben is essentially a superior. We can’t fuck. And we don’t want to. It’s not going to happen.”

“Sure, Jan.”

“Poe! I’m serious. It’s… not like that.” If it weren’t for the curling wand wrapped in her hair and being utilized by Poe, Rey would’ve stormed out of there and right to the supermarket for her mountain-of-icing cupcake. She’s sure of it.

“Well, whatever it’s like or not like, he’s coming.”

“How do you know? You said he never comes to things like this.”

“Ben actually responded to me. He said: ‘I’ll think about it’, which is Solo-speak for ‘yeah, I’m coming’.”

Rey grumbles to herself for a few moments, trying not to bite her nails. A nervous habit she’s been trying to break since before her parents left her. She wonders about Ben’s parents for a moment before stomping that thought down.

“I will agree to stay for the majority of the party tonight as long as you promise to never mess with my love-life again, got it?” She points at Poe through the mirror, trying to be as intimidating as possible for someone with butterfly clips holding parts of their hair back, can.

“So you admit, Ben is apart of your love life?” The trademark Dameron smirk flashed across Poe’s face.

Rey just frowned and tried to take a power nap while he worked. She wouldn’t give Poe the satisfaction of being right. 

Even if he was.

-

The thing about Poe is, he don’t just throw a party; he throws The Party. He has the miraculous ability to turn any setting into an Animal House level of chaos, while perfectly predicting the amount of alcohol needed to sustain such an enviroment. He plays the perfect music at the perfect volume, invites the perfect amount of people, and has the prefect response to any problems that could arise. 

Except, of course, the problem of what Rey should say to her teachers assistant who she may have a crush on but shouldn’t have a crush on. Well, Poe would probably have a solution for that too, but not one she’s willing to entertain.

Rey has stationed herself between the kitchen and the living room of Poe’s townhouse, the only place where there wasn’t a ping pong table in her way or sweaty frat dudes grinding on girls with too little clothing. She’s nursing the vodka soda that’s gone flat about twenty minutes ago, but venturing into the kitchen is too much of a risk.

She smiles at people walking by, makes small talk with Kaydel and asks about her all black ensemble (‘It’s a full moon, Rey’ she says, like it’s the most obvious thing), and tries to bide her time until Poe is sufficiently drunk and she can sneak out.

This is also where Ben finds her, when Poe is roughly two shots of Jagermister away from not noticing Rey’s existence. 

“Hi,” He says over the music.

“Hey,” She shouts back. They say nothing for a few awkward moments and Rey has time to look Ben over. 

The black henley is probably more expensive than her entire wardrobe and his dark wash jeans seem to be his signature. But it is a beautiful signature. One people remark on. One she wants to rip off him. One she wants to walk over in the morning while he cooks her pancakes and bacon.

“You look nice,” Ben says, and Rey realizes she’s staring. 

“You too.”

“This is a nice house.”

“Yeah.”

Rey is admittedly not the best conversationalist but this is bad, even for her. Fuck it, she thinks.

“Do you want to get a drink?” She asks. Ben nods, so she grabs his hand and leads him up the stairs. Poe has a hidden mini fridge in his closet, which he uses for facial products, the Really Good Liqour, and emergencies. 

This particular moment constitutes and emergency, Rey thinks. One of the social variety.

Ben’s hand is warm and large and she really can’t help it if his fingers lace through hers on their way up the stairs. She also can’t help it if her hips swish a little more than necessary, too.

Rey quickly pulls him into Poe’s room, and heads to the mini fridge. 

“Poe has good liquor in here, I think,” She says, pushing his clothes to the side to get to it. When she opens it use, she finds two empty mini-bottles of grey goose, two white claws, and a bottle of water. Thanks for nothing, Dameron. “Well, he always told me he has good liquor in here. White claw?” She holds one out to Ben. 

“Um… water will be fine. Thanks,” She passes him the bottle, noticing how his right hand dwarfs it and how his left hand is still intertwined with hers. She makes no move to let him go and neither does he. 

They sip their drinks, feeling the bass of whatever EDM hit shake the walls around them. She was waiting for him to make a move. She’d done her part, gotten them here, gotten them alone; it was only fair that Ben give an indication this this isn’t one-sided. 

“Do you… like parties?” He asks. His thumb was rubbing distracting circles on the back of her hand. 

“Not at all” Not unless you’re here. “Poe had to bribe me.”

“With what?”

Your presence. “A cupcake.”

A slow soft smile spreads across Ben’s lips and Rey accidentally squeezes his hand too hard to be polite. 

“Poe told us you never come to parties.” She breaks the silence. The weight of his smile and stare feeling like a warm blanket around her. 

“I usually don’t?”

“Did he bribe yo to come, too?”

“Yeah.”

“With a cupcake?”

“No.” He pauses and Rey realizes that they’ve drifted closer together. She can see the outline of his chest through the tight fabric. She can smell the expensive after-shave on his jaw. She can feel the warmth radiating off him, beckoning her closer. “With you.”

Rey doesn’t know who moves first, all she knows that however soft she imagined his lips to be, they’re even softer. His mouth moves against hers, hungry and desperate. She slides her tongue into his mouth, tangling with his. His hands go to cup her head, holding her against him, and hers go to feel him through his shirt. 

He pushes her up against the wall, gently probing his leg between hers, keeping her pinned. His mouth moves to pepper kisses across her jaw and she can’t help but cry out. Ben works down her throat, having to lean down to reach it. She feels him; solid and warm and everything she’s ever wanted in a partner. 

Rey pulls his face back up to hers, willingly slotting their mouths together again. She gives an experimental rock of her hips against his thigh, causing him to rumble her name. Rey feels the vibrations more than hears his voice and it is by far her favorite way anyones ever said her name. 

Suddenly, she feels his hands on her shoulders, pushing her back against the wall and any from him. Ben’s head hangs between them and she hears him muttering creative curse words.

“What’s wrong?” She asks desperately, willing her hands to stop instinctively reaching out towards. him.

“I can’t.”

The words hit her like ice water.

“What?”

“I can’t do this, Rey.” His voice is deeper than she’s heard before and pained.

“Why?” The desperation in her voice is unattractive, she’s sure, but she can’t be bothered with that.

“I’m essentially you teacher. This is… not okay.”

Ben finally looks back up at Rey, still keeping her shoulders firmly back to the wall. She can practically see the emotion swirling in his deep brown eyes, but is to keyed up to make sense of it. After a moment, he lets her go, removing himself and putting a good six feet between them. 

“You’re leaving.” It’s a statement she’s said one too many times, but this one stings the most. 

“I’m sorry. Pleas just… I’m sorry.”

Ben is out the door before Rey can stop him. 

-

She makes it to her front door before the tears come.

[artificialqueens]

as the stars align 7/? (branjie) - rujubees

A/N: hollywood enemies to lovers au; 5.2k - also on ao3

Brooke ended up enjoying her time in Vancouver more than she’d expected to. Life on a TV set was fast-paced and constantly busy, so there was little time to miss Vanessa or wonder what more could’ve happened between them had the timing been right.

It was certainly weird being thrust into a new role so soon after Stars, and Brooke knew that playing two queer characters so close together would raise more questions about her own sexuality, but she was used to the mindless gossip and speculation by this point.

Even stranger was working with a love interest that wasn’t played by Vanessa. Her new on-screen girlfriend was played by Violet Chachki, an actress Brooke greatly admired, but she wasn’t attracted to her despite her gorgeous looks. When they filmed their first kiss and Brooke felt nothing, she almost wanted to laugh at how she ever thought she didn’t have feelings for Vanessa, when their scripted kisses had been completely different to any other Brooke had ever experienced.

Even so, Brooke returned to Los Angeles three weeks into October, convinced that she was over Vanessa. ‘Out of Sight, Out of Mind’ had been working out well for her, having not seen the other woman for over two months, and having had barely any time to stalk her Instagram or catch up with her over text. They’d exchanged a couple of messages here and there, mostly in the form of promises to meet up once Brooke was home, but they didn’t bring up That Night, and Brooke had no expectations of it happening again.

Which she was fine with. And maybe Brooke hadn’t slept with anyone else since Vanessa, but it was just because her work was tiring and any days or nights off that she had, she wanted to keep to herself rather than share with other people. Besides, it had only been two months — hardly an unbearable amount of time to go without having sex.

It was a Tuesday when Brooke finally opened the messages she’d had stored on her phone since the day prior, having then been unable to face socialising after her travels back from Canada. She hated to admit how one caught her eye immediately.

Vanessa: Halloween Party at mine next Thursday! U better come, I know ur home then bitch. ;)

Brooke laughed, excitement bubbling inside her at the thought of getting to see Vanessa on one of her favourite holidays. She sent a quick text in confirmation that she would be present, and immediately began coming up with all of the costume possibilities, feeling thankful that her hectic schedule from the last couple of months meant that she’d forgotten the occasion was so near, and subsequently she had failed to commit to any plans for the night already. She had put so much effort into convincing herself that she was over Vanessa, but still nothing could persuade her that there was any better way to spend Halloween than in her co-worker’s company.

Brooke had a rummage through her walk-in closet on the off chance that she would find something right for the event, but all she had was last years mummy costume that had worked perfectly with her ballet training. Who was she kidding, anyway — of course, she was going to use the party as an excuse to treat herself to something new and custom made. It would be the first time seeing Vanessa — and probably the rest of the cast and crew — in months. She had to look good.

It wasn’t long before the perfect idea came to mind. She only had a week, but luckily Brooke knew just the designer who would be up to the task.

—

On October 31st, Brooke stood in front of her dressing table mirror, adding the finishing touches to her lipstick, proudly admiring her work. She had to admit, she felt like this was the best she had ever looked. The luxury of having a week off meant she’d gotten tons of beauty sleep the night before, lying in before taking her time to pamper herself in the shower, spending hours carefully applying her makeup and gently curling her platinum hair that she had allowed to grow long.

She’d decided to go as Catwoman, and enlisted one of her favourite local designers, Raja, to tailor her the perfect latex catsuit that fit like a second skin, clinging to her hips and ass so much she felt explicit. She’d decided against a mask, wanting to show off her freshly bleached, tumbling locks, and settled on a pair of matching cat ears to complete the look. It was minimalist, yet sexy, if Brooke did say so herself.

“Brooke! The car’s here!” Nina yelled up the stairs, Brooke slipping her feet into slick black heels and grabbing her clutch and phone. She checked the time, noticing that it was already half nine, meaning the party would be in full swing by now. Brooke also had a couple of casual texts from Vanessa that she’d held herself back from replying to, for some reason feeling the need to play it cool as much as possible.

“Tequila shots before we leave?” Brooke suggested as she descended the stairs as elegantly as one possibly could in sky-high heels that she really should’ve waited to put on.

“Girl, oh my God, look at you!” Plastique let out as she came into view. She looked pretty cute herself in a pink Playboy bunny outfit. Brooke didn’t know the girl well, having only had brief exchanges with her during filming, but she had seemed to form a group somewhat with Shuga, Yvie and Scarlet, while Brooke had been focused on Vanessa the whole time. She thought it was about time she got to know them all a little bit more, and the idea of turning up to Vanessa’s in a group comforted her —

— hence the gathering at her house right now, the four women ready in the hall, plus Nina of course.

There was a chorus of wolf whistles and compliments as Brooke did a little strut to the kitchen — she knew that in another life, she could’ve been a full-time model.

“Who you tryna impress tonight, bitch?” Yvie asked, leading Scarlet hand in hand as the rest of the girls followed Brooke into the kitchen.

“Oooh, Brooke Lynn, please tell us!” Nina exclaimed dramatically, as if the last time they spoke in person hadn’t consisted of Brooke claiming she was over Vanessa and Nina telling her she was nuts. Brooke fixed her with a stern glare, hoping she could put her off of pulling this shit all night, but it had been a long time since her manager had been intimidated by her.

“Oh, guys, hush. It’s no one, I’m just trying to make my LA society comeback in style, that’s all,” Brooke said with a shrug.

“Well, it’s a damn waste if you ask me. You look fine as hell tonight, honey,” Shuga hummed. “You know, if I didn’t have a husband…”

“I know what you mean, Shugs. If I were single, I’d be all over that,” Scarlet teased, Yvie sticking her tongue out at her in response. “Seriously, Brooke. You can score whoever you want in that getup.”

“Okay. Why are you guys being so nice? I mean, I’m not the only one dressed up here,” — a quick glance at Plastique’s wide-eyed face confirmed Brooke’s suspicions that something was up. “Nina. A word?” she said through gritted teeth.

The other girls scurried off into the hallway, leaving Nina to mindlessly clear up the glasses as she tried to avoid Brooke’s gaze.

“I’m your manager, not your housekeeper you know —“

“Did you tell them about Vanessa?” Brooke jumped to the point.

“See? Your mind went there even though you think you’ve moved on. You totally aren’t over her!” Nina whizzed round to face her.

“I — what? I am. Clearly you don’t believe me and told them about her — us — anyway.”

“B, look, everybody knows. It’s been obvious for months, and even now, you still talk about her in the same way as before. You guys had sex!” — Brooke shushed Nina frantically — “She wants you back, I don’t understand why you’re trying so hard to pretend you’ve moved on. Isn’t this what you’ve been hoping for the whole time? Why are you trying to downplay it?”

“Actually, I don’t know that she wants that. When we slept together, I made it clear it was a one-time thing. I have no reason to think she wants a relationship or to even have sex again,” Brooke whispered.

“Brooke, you — why did you say that? God, you’re so dumb.” Nina was shaking her head like Brooke was beyond her help and she was finally giving up.

“It was just easier. She’s so young and, like, the biggest romantic I’ve ever met, and she’s the most beautiful goddamn person in the world. I wasn’t about to try and tie her down only to abandon her for Canada a week later,” Brooke revealed sadly.

“Oh, Brooke. You’re so in love, it amazes me how you don’t see it.”

“I — what?” Brooke all but yelled. “I’m not — I’m not in love, I told you, I’m… I’m fine,” she spluttered, which probably wasn’t helping her case. “I don’t even have feelings for her anymore. You’ll see, Nina.”

“Brooke, don’t make yourself unhappy to prove a point,” Nina pleaded with her. The words made Brooke uneasy. She wasn’t in love. She’d had a crush on Vanessa, sure, but she’d never let it get that deep. Nina didn’t know shit.

“Y’all, some of us would actually like to get to this party before the clock strikes midnight,” Shuga called from where the rest of them were stood waiting.

Nina sighed before trotting off, Brooke trailing behind as soon as she could compose herself, her walk lacking the confidence she’d been full of before.

—

“It’s ten o’ clock, where is she?!” Vanessa exclaimed between nervous glances at her phone and sips of her cocktail. Time Warp was ringing through her large, bustling open plan apartment, and as much as Vanessa was proud of her Halloween playlist, she really just wanted to turn it the fuck down so she could listen out for any signs that Brooke had arrived.

“Bitch, chill, you’re being too much. She’s probably on her way. You’ve already texted her enough times,” Silky huffed at her, her iffy The Wiz cosplay making her one of the least menacing costumes there.

“And she ain’t even read ‘em. What if she wants nothin’ to do with me anymore?”

“Calm yo melodramatic Libra ass down. I’m serious, Vanj, you need to play hard to get.”

In spite of Silky’s words of wisdom, Vanessa knew she’d be unable to relax and enjoy herself until Brooke finally showed her face.

She missed her so, so much.

When Brooke announced that she was going away for work in Canada, Vanessa briefly thought that maybe she would finally be given the distance she needed to move on. That possibility flew out the window just as quickly, as after she slept with Brooke, she knew that she couldn’t just move on from her. Not now, possibly not ever.

Vanessa remembered how Brooke had propositioned her, and how she’d almost hoped that the sex between them would be bad. Almost hoped that they were incompatible, since Brooke had made it very clear that she wasn’t after a relationship, or even a friends with benefits situation — she wanted a one night stand, and Vanessa wanted so much more.

But, cliché as it was, the exact opposite had turned out to be true, and Vanessa couldn’t say she was surprised. It had been some of the best sex she’d ever had, passionate and intimate and short and sweet because it had been such a long time coming. And there was no getting Brooke out of her head after that.

After a few more minutes of socialising, pretending to be immersed in conversations but really just wishing it was Brooke she was talking to, Silky pulled Vanessa aside.

“She’s here,” Silky announced like they were in some sort of spy movie. Vanessa tried to break free of her grasp, but Silky had more advice to give. “Be cool. Trust me, if you want her to fuck you again, act like you barely even remember who she is.”

“Silk, that’s ridiculous,” — but Silky was shaking her head disapprovingly, and the more Vanessa thought about her strategy, the more she supposed there wasn’t any in harm in waiting for Brooke to come to her first — “but if Brooky don’t wanna answer my texts, maybe she does to deserve to be left on read for a little bit. Like, in real life.”

Silky frowned at that, perplexed.

“It’s an analogy, bitch.”

After a few more minutes of conveniently failing to notice Brooke’s arrival, Vanessa turned around and found the woman of her affections already staring at her, though she quickly diverted her gaze after getting caught before returning it and giving Vanessa a small wave and a shrug. Vanessa smirked in response, causing a blush to rise in Brooke’s cheeks, clashing endearingly with the sexy, badass character she was portraying.

Brooke looked so hot she made it hard to look away, but Vanessa didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of thinking her newfound presence had that much of an effect on her. Didn’t want Brooke getting any impression of Vanessa waiting for hours, longing for Brooke to show up.

Even though that was exactly what she had been doing.

—

Brooke wasn’t one for conspiracy theories or jumping to conclusions, but all night she’d had a sinking feeling that Vanessa had been avoiding her.

It started when she’d arrived, when Vanessa certainly hadn’t seemed as enthusiastic about their reunion as Brooke felt. She’d given Brooke a quick smile in recognition, and then gone back to her interactions with the group of people she was currently socialising with, barely sparing Brooke a second glance.

She felt self-absorbed even thinking it, but Brooke had at least hoped she’d come over and say hi — she’d even kind of been expecting it after Vanessa had dropped her so many messages about the party. But maybe she was just being polite. Maybe she’d had too many people back out already, and she just wanted to make sure.

Whatever the reason was, it hurt more than Brooke could fathom. She became deflated and dejected, trying not to sulk as she mingled with her other co-stars and crew members, knowing that she was probably looking like the lamest, most miserable Catwoman to ever exist.

It stung to think that perhaps Vanessa regretted what had happened between them, but then again, why should she still be caught up on that night? If Vanessa ever felt something for Brooke, she’d more than likely moved on by now. After all, Brooke had.

If one good thing came out of Vanessa ghosting her, it was Proving Nina Right.

“I told you so,” Brooke said when she finally caught up with her best friend again, at around midnight. She was straddling the line between tipsy and drunk from all the alcohol she’d been knocking back in self-pity.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to, but I doubt you did. You know I’m never wrong,” Nina replied with a smile.

“Vanessa. I’m over her.”

“And have you been thinking a lot on this night about how you’re over Vanessa?” Nina laughed.

“I mean it, bitch. I haven’t talked to her since I got here. Not once, nope.”

“By choice?” Nina questioned, narrowing her eyes.

“Well. Not exactly,” Brooke scrunched her nose in response. “It’s just… I think she hates me.”

Nina huffed dramatically, seeming uncharacteristically impatient with Brooke Lynn.

“Right. That’s it. I don’t even wanna hear this. You two are the worst communicators in the world and I’m tired of it,” — she grabbed Brooke’s hand and dragged her across the kitchen and out onto the deck, where Vanessa stood, a literal angel, glowing under the moonlight.

“Vanessa! How good to see you! Love the party, dear,” Nina called loudly, Brooke feeling like a bratty child being forced to apologise on the playground.

“Hi, V,” Brooke greeted Vanessa, warmth surging through her when Vanessa grinned back at her.

“Sorry, I have to just take this,” Nina butted in, gripping her silent phone, “after all, a manager’s job never ends.”

“How was Canada?” Vanessa started after Nina had left them to it.

“Good. Really good, actually,” Brooke confessed eagerly. “How’s LA been?”

“Same old, you know how it is, girl.”

“Yeah.”

There were a few moments of awkward silence which Brooke used to subtly take in Vanessa’s costume. She was wearing a detailed white corset and bra, huge wings, and a bejewelled headpiece, plus matching stockings that made Brooke want to stare at her thighs all night long. And maybe touch them a little bit, but that was fine, any self-respecting lesbian would feel the same way.

“Brooke, about what happened between us, after the wrap party —” Vanessa began, making Brooke seize up in a panic at the elephant in the room finally being addressed.

“We can forget about it,” she blurted out, her ego unable to handle Vanessa’s words of rejection right now. “It’s no biggie.”

Vanessa said nothing, snapping her head away from Brooke to look up at the moon again.

“Sure, let’s do that. It’s for the best,” she agreed finally.

“Yeah,” Brooke whispered, at a loss for what else to say.

Vanessa faced her again, and shit, she was a terrible actor. Her eyes were wet and had she really been crying this whole time while Brooke was unaware right next to her? Not that Brooke could blame her — she was already feeling like they’d gone and fucked up the tentative friendship that had been formed between the two of them. Brooke felt her throat constricting as she realised how much she hated this. How different it felt now.

“Good talk, I guess,” Vanessa summarised, and she was gone from Brooke’s side in a flash.

—

Brooke had decided to call it a night soon after her conversation with Vanessa, no longer in the mood for any kind of festivities. She was quiet the entire Uber ride home, and was grateful when for once, Nina chose not to pry.

They couldn’t avoid each forever, though, as that Saturday they had their first press gigs for As The Stars Align. As Brooke spent the morning getting ready, she regretted how much she was not looking forward to the day’s schedule — first a panel with the whole cast, and then some paired interviews; naturally, as co-leads, Brooke and Vanessa had been put together for all of theirs.

The panel rolled around too quickly, and Brooke found herself on stage in a line with Michelle, Asia and Katya to her right, Vanessa and the rest of the cast to her left. There was an audience of a few hundred in front of them, and their moderator was a woman called Monét.

“Hi everyone,” Monét began, receiving cheers in response. She introduced each person on stage and gave out some background information on the movie before scrolling on her iPad and launching into the questions. Brooke spared Vanessa a glance, but her co-star seemed strangely out of it. Brooke wanted to bring her back to reality, check she was okay, but she couldn’t catch her eye. As a result, Brooke missed the first couple of questions, and was thankful that none of them seemed to be directed at her. She made a mental note not to watch the panel back later and scrutinise herself for a lack of professionalism that would no doubt be obvious to her own eyes.

“Katya, I wanna talk about your decision to be involved in the creative process of the movie. What made you want to take an active role in the production of As The Stars Align?” Monét asked as Katya’s face lit up.

“This project is my baby,” Katya began with a slight chuckle. “This story is so special to me and to be honest, I don’t trust these bitches unsupervised,” — the audience laughed and Katya’s eyes widened as she apologised and asked whether she was allowed to swear.

“But in all seriousness, I did want to make sure it was done right. A lot of LGBT people, especially young ones, have told me directly how much my book means to them and I didn’t want to let them down. It’s why I wanted the diverse cast and crew that we have. Unfortunately, they happen to be horrible monsters to work with,” Katya joked.

“Speaking of monsters…” Monét grinned wickedly. “Vanessa, what was it like working with the Brooke Lynn Hytes? And playing love interests no less?”

Brooke blushed slightly, turning to Vanessa with a quirked eyebrow. Vanessa looked caught off guard.

“Lemme think how I’m gon answer that,” she teased after a few seconds. “And get your camera phones out, I know y’all be recording and tagging.”

“Please, everyone's dying to know if the diva rumours are true,” Monét carried on sarcastically.

“Working with Brooke Lynn was… an experience,” Vanessa began, earning some stifled laughs from those on stage who knew their shared history. “She’s damn fierce at what she does — if I’ve had even a fifth of the career she’s had by the time I’m her age, it’ll be a blessing.”

“You calling me old, bitch?” Brooke quipped, and the audience laughed again in delight, but Brooke had seen Vanessa smile enough times to know that her heart wasn’t in the one she was giving her right now.

The rest of Monét’s questions went off without a hitch, but when they directed the line of enquiry to journalists in the audience, Brooke felt a sinking feeling in her stomach at the unpredictability of it all. One of the paparazzi introduced himself as being from Fox News, and Brooke wondered how she was going to pretend to be nice to this man.

She’d expected casual sexism or homophobia, but she almost threw up a bit at the actual words that the words left the reporter’s mouth.

“Brooke and Vanessa, we’ve had many inside sources claim they saw you both enter the same hotel room on the night of the wrap party. What I want to ask is, is there any truth to the speculation that the two of you are romantically involved?”

Monét had to hush the rumblings of the audience, giving Brooke a few extra seconds to think on her feet. Vanessa looked horrified (which Brooke would’ve taken offence to if she didn’t feel so bad for her) and was choking on air, most likely thanking her luck that they had been saddled with passing a few microphones around rather than wearing them.

“Brooke, Vanessa, feel free not to answer that. I’m speaking to the management about vetting as soon as this is over,” Monét said, only half kidding.

“It’s okay. Vanessa and I aren’t together, but wouldn’t that be quite the story?” Brooke replied, the words tasting like salt. “However, she has become a very good friend of mine, and, um, she deserves the world. All the amazing humans on this stage do.” The audience aww-ed and ahh-ed, touched.

“Y’all heard me earlier, I wouldn’t be caught dead with her senior ass,” Vanessa exaggerated, Brooke laughing despite the joke made at her expense, gratefully that Vanessa was able to lighten the mood.

After another twenty minutes of audience questions, thankfully none as invasive as the first, they departed the stage and took a lunch break before their upcoming afternoon of paired interviews. Everyone ate together at a big table, Vanessa sat a few seats down from Brooke, and she was still being unusually quiet.

Brooke hated not hearing her loud voice soaring above all the rest.

—

Vanessa’s Halloween party had not gone to plan.

She had envisioned it so well — Brooke would arrive just as Vanessa was a couple of drinks in wearing a bomb costume; they’d lock eyes from across the room and the spark would be reignited. They’d spend all night catching up, just the two of them in their own corner, and maybe one of them would make a move.

Maybe she’d had her hopes too high expecting a grand love declaration or a kiss that swept her off her feet, but she thought Brooke would at least be down to continue whatever they started. Instead, her day had ended with Brooke telling her that she wanted to pretend that night had never happened.

Vanessa was fucking crushed.

She had never experienced heartbreak, not really — her only relationship had been Matt, and she had been more relieved than sad when it was over. But she was completely devastated to realise that her fantasies of a future with Brooke would remain fantasies. Vanessa hated herself for falling for Brooke so hard and fast, especially since the intensity of her feelings were clearly unreciprocated.

Vanessa was also, despite being a professional actor, completely terrible at hiding her feelings. When she was in character — following a script — she was mostly able to detach herself completely and convey any emotion regardless of whether it was one she able to empathise with, but when she was being herself it was no use.

She was sure fans would pick up on it, would question why Vanessa wasn’t her usual bubbly, loud self on stage. If only they knew.

Her first joint interview with Brooke was with a tall, blonde woman named Alaska, who wrote for an LGBT magazine. When Vanessa joined her in the small press room, Brooke Lynn was already there, early as ever (except for her Halloween party, Vanessa thought bitterly).

“Hi, girls,” Alaska drawled. Her questions were pleasantly thoughtful, focussing on the message of the movie, allowing them to give in depth, individual answers, though afterwards they were ordered to up the chemistry between the two of them, so clearly they hadn’t been everything the publication was looking for.

And she had to give it to her — from then on, Brooke did start making an effort to connect with Vanessa in her responses, even though Vanessa struggled to put their personal issues aside.

After more interviews that seemed to go on forever, mostly with male reporters who were as boring as they were old, they had one final discussion with a girl named Tatianna, which would be printed rather than filmed. She was more gossipy, but just as sweet as Alaska had been.

“Ladies, this one’s a little personal, so just let me know if you want to move on and we’ll cut it out. I don’t know your identities, but I was wondering whether your own experiences with sexuality have influenced the way you play these characters, and your decision to take on LGBT roles.”

Vanessa looked at Brooke, hesitance etched over her features, and it suddenly clicked that Brooke was a celebrity, and her sexuality wasn’t public knowledge — Vanessa had been oblivious before Brooke had come out to her. She didn’t know why the thought had never occurred to her before, but she realised that Brooke was most likely being intentionally private about her sexuality for whatever reasons and she didn’t want to put her in a compromising situation, no matter how frustrated she was with her right now.

“Obviously, I can’t speak for Brooke, but yeah, it definitely played a role for me. I’m bisexual, and there was such a lack of bi representation for me growing up — there still is now, and of LGBT representation in general. I always assumed I was straight, ‘cos I didn’t even really know that liking more than one gender was a thing. There was no bi figures, in fiction or the media, or if there was, they were constantly being erased… but that’s a whole other discussion, Mary.” Vanessa noticed that Brooke looked utterly engaged in what she was saying, and it was nice to feel heard and understood.

“So yeah, I was definitely conscious as a bi person about taking queer roles. We deserve to tell our own stories, you know? I feel like having a movie like this with such a diverse cast would’ve really helped the teenage me who was just trying to figure herself out.”

Tatianna nodded compassionately, before turning towards Brooke.

“I, uh. I agree LGBT representation is so important, and the way it’s handled is always an indicator on quality in a script. I feel like people of any sexuality can relate to queer roles — especially women, or people of colour, anyone who knows what it feels like to be marginalised or a minority. But yeah, there’s definitely a lot of me in my character,” Brooke confessed, smiling half-heartedly.

“Well, this has been a very insightful conversation. Thank you both for your time,” Tatianna concluded, shaking their hands.

The interviewer began talking with the behind the scenes people whose jobs were a mystery to Vanessa.

“Girl, what a day,” Vanessa yawned, hoping they would be given the okay to leave soon.

“Ness, I… I’m proud of you, you know,” Brooke said. Vanessa’s heart melted with both affection and sadness at Brooke’s gentle voice, and properly looked her in the eyes for the first time in days.

“Bitch, don’t get soft with me.”

“I’m serious… you just, like, came out to the whole world. That’s a big deal.”

“Well, not the whole world, just Refinery29 readers,” Vanessa joked. Brooke laughed a disproportionate amount.

“You ever think you’ll do it? I just realised we never talked about all that —” Brooke’s face became immediately pensive at Vanessa’s question.

“Sure,” she decided after a few moments of reflection. “I mean, I have my hang-ups, but if I got into a really serious relationship, I wouldn’t wanna hide it, y’know?” — Vanessa nodded — “but sometimes I worry that I’ve left it too late. Like, what if everyone feels I’ve been lying by omission all these years and I end up betraying both straight people and the LGBT community at the same time?”

“Ima stop you right there, girl,” Vanessa cut her off. “You don’t owe nothing to nobody, got it? If you do it, it’s gotta be on your own terms. Gay people won’t give a shit that it didn’t happen earlier, they know how it is. Trust me, if they ever find out Brooke Lynn Hytes is one of them, they ain’t gonna be mad.”

Brooke raised her eyebrows, and Vanessa wondered if she knew she was projecting.

“And I’m not done. To address your other concern. If homophobes are pissed then you’re doing something right. You finessed them and got their homophobic coin, be proud, bitch!”

“You know, surprisingly, that made me feel a lot better. Thanks, Ness,” Brooke shared with a small smile.

And Vanessa felt better, too. The issues between her and Brooke couldn’t be magically fixed, but for now, a weight had been lifted.

[callboxkat]

Merry (part 1)

Author’s note: This’ll probably only be two or three parts, unless I get inspired. Either way, this first part would probably work as a one-shot. Happy birthday, Virgil!

Warnings: This first part doesn’t really have any. Just some food mentions and mild-ish selective mutism. It’s pretty fluffy, to be honest.

Word count: 2470

Look for links to part 2 and my writing masterpost in the notes!

...

December, 2017

Patton was excited.

He absolutely loved throwing birthday parties, and it had been a while since he’d gotten to do so. He was especially eager because the last friend of his to have a birthday had been Logan, whose birthdays were never as fun as, say, Roman’s. It wasn’t that Patton preferred any of his friends over the others—of course he didn’t! Logan was one of Patton’s favorite people in the world, but he just wasn’t as receptive to Patton’s efforts as most of their other friends, which made him a little sad. He didn’t mean to be selfish about it, but it was always more fun when the person whose birthday it actually was was as excited about it as Patton.

He thought back to Logan’s birthday, which had been on November 3rd, just over a month ago. Knowing their friend, Patton and the others had tried to keep the celebrations minimal: just the six friends together at Roman’s house for cake, small presents, and a few games of Mario Kart on Roman’s console. Logan had been flustered by the attention; and while he was clearly trying to hide that he was pleased, he kept trying to insist that the party’s motivation didn’t make any sense.

“Patton, this is all highly unnecessary—I am only a day older than I was yesterday. I have not suddenly aged by an entire year. Really, all of this celebration is rather frivolous.”

They had all still had a fun time, of course! And Patton wouldn’t change Logan for the world.

Even so, this birthday was particularly special: it would Virgil’s first birthday since they had met him; and, according to Logan, he was turning eighteen! He would officially become an adult! That fact required celebration.

Patton was slightly ashamed to admit that he had nearly missed the date. Had it not been for an offhand comment by Logan about the upcoming milestone this month, Patton probably wouldn’t have known until after the date had passed. Logan hadn’t known the exact date of Virgil’s birthday, but some quick internet searching had gotten Patton his answer. December 19th—a Tuesday, only two days before winter break officially began (the school ended that week on a Thursday for reasons unknown to him). Patton was immensely glad that his friend’s birthday didn’t fall during the break. That would make things so much harder to plan!

Even though that was happily not the case, Patton had some work to do. He wanted Virgil’s day to be perfect.

…

A week before his birthday, Virgil received a package in the mail. It was fairly large, and at first, Virgil had assumed that there had been a mix-up at the post office. When he found out that his father had sent it, though, things made more sense. Virgil’s dad always got him a birthday present, no matter how tight money was. It made sense that he would put in even more effort this year, since his work and geographic distance kept him from coming to visit for the occasion.

On the side of the box, written in black sharpie, was a note: “Do Not Open Until Dec 19!!” The message was surrounded by simple line drawings: a party hat, a cupcake with a candle stuck in it, a smiley face, and a gift box. Virgil’s dad was no artist, but it made the just-shy-of-eighteen-year-old smile.

He put the box under his bed, so as to not be overly tempted to open it early, but he made sure to shoot a thank-you text to his dad so that he would know the present had arrived.

His dad, of course, immediately called him. Virgil didn’t mind: he actually really enjoyed talking about their days. Virgil’s dad still called him most days, in fact, even though Virgil had been in college for several months now.

“Hi, Dad,” he said, picking up on the second ring.

“Hey, Virgil! You didn’t open your present yet, did you?”

“No, of course not,” he laughed. “I can read.”

…

Everything was planned and ready.

Virgil still seemed to think that none of his friends knew about his upcoming birthday, and judging by how he was acting, he planned to keep it that way.

His birthday was tomorrow, after all. If Virgil had wanted any sort of effort to be put in to celebrate by the others, he would have told them earlier. Or, at least, he would have done so if he wanted them to know that he wanted that.

What a weird sentence, Patton thought.

Regardless, while it had taken some planning, everything was ready for his friend’s birthday. All Patton needed to do was work on his own present.

He sure hoped Virgil liked it.

…

Today was Virgil’s birthday. He was officially eighteen. Finally, an adult.

He had class, obviously, since it was a Tuesday, but he had the day off of work. He planned to use the afternoon mostly to just relax, although he did have some plans. Talyn had invited him to see a movie at four, a couple of hours after their and Virgil’s last class. Apparently, they’d been planning to go with Joan, but their schedule had filled up, and Virgil was one of their only other friends who was a fan of the horror genre.

Until then, though, Virgil planned to go about his day like normal. He attended class and sat with his friends as usual; thankfully, none of them seemed to know that today was any different than any other. Virgil was glad. He hadn’t wanted his friends to feel any pressure to put something together for him.

After school, he decided to open his present.

Virgil dug the package out from under his bed and carried it out to the kitchen, relieved when he set it down on the counter. It was quite heavy, whatever it contained. He smiled at the note scribbled on its side, then grabbed a pair of scissors and got to work removing the packaging tape. When he got the box open, Virgil had intended to grab the birthday card first, but the gift immediately grabbed his attention.

It was a coffee-maker, brand new, fancier than he was accustomed to.

Virgil oh-so-gently lifted it out of the box, staring at the machine in almost reverent awe. He set it carefully on the table, like it was made of glass.

“Um, what is that?”

Virgil looked up to see his roommate, Remy, standing in the doorway between his bedroom and the main room.

“It’s a coffee-maker.”

“I can see that, but gurl, since when can you afford one like that?” Remy made his way over, staring at the machine in shock.

“It’s a present from my dad,” Virgil admitted.

“You are 100 percent, absolutely letting me use it. This is non-negotiable. I’m putting it in the roommate agreement,” Remy said seriously. “Wait—a present? For what? Christmas isn’t until next week.”

“Um. It’s sort of my birthday?”

Remy lowered his sunglasses and regarded him over the rims, eyebrows raised in shock. “It’s your birthday? You cannot just, like, spring that on me! I don’t have anything for you!”

Virgil shrugged, embarrassed. “…I, uh, I didn’t expect you to care.”

“What! This is slander! Come on,” Remy said, grabbing Virgil’s arm and pulling him to his feet. “We’re going to get you some coffee. My present to you.”

“Uh… not to sound un—unappreciative or anything, but…” Virgil indicated the coffee maker he had literally just unwrapped.

“Coffee grounds, dummy, for the machine.” Remy rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Now get your shoes on and let’s go!”

Virgil let himself be dragged along, weakly protesting that he had to be back by four, since he was going to see a movie with a friend.

“Yeah, yeah, you will be.” Remy grinned, opening the door to the apartment building and pulling his roommate towards his car. “Get in, Grinch, we’re going shopping.”

…

At four o’clock, Virgil arrived at the library, where Talyn was waiting to pick him up. They smiled, pushing off of the little half-wall lining the walkway, and approached. They had recently dyed their hair a bright green, presumably for the upcoming holiday; and their stylishly done makeup had accents of red and gold.

Virgil wanted to tell them that they looked nice, but for some reason giving people compliments, even in a completely platonic way, was intimidating. So, he settled for a half-smile and a “hello”.

“Ready to go?” Talyn asked cheerfully.

The two of them were going to see a new horror movie that had recently come out. Apparently, Talyn and Joan had been planning to go together, but something had come up in Joan’s schedule, and so Talyn had an extra ticket. They had asked Virgil to come in Joan’s place, without asking him to help pay, and they didn’t even know it was his birthday! Virgil hadn’t told anybody, except now for Remy.

They arrived at the theatre, and Talyn made use of a gift card they had to get each of them some popcorn. They claimed to have found it when cleaning their room about a week ago. Virgil wasn’t sure if he believed this, but he decided to play along. It was really nice of them to pay.

The movie itself was pretty good. Virgil probably wouldn’t see it again, but it wasn’t bad. He really liked hanging out with Talyn, honestly, more than watching the actual movie. Before it had started, during the previews, they told him a funny story about their mom’s naming choices with a cat she had adopted—apparently, her first choice had been “Cosmic Charlie”.

“I—I don’t know, that seems like a quality name to me,” Virgil had said, grinning shyly, when they told him this.

“Oh, of course. It’s so unique, you know? But we kinda helped her figure out that Odin might be a better name.”

“Fewer syllables,” Virgil had agreed, nodding knowingly.

“Exactly.”

“No other reason for the name change, I’m sure.”

“Nope!”

Virgil smirked, pausing to eat some popcorn. “Does she just have the one cat?”

“No, my family has three. The other two are Boy Cat and Girl Cat.”

Virgil, who had just taken a sip from his drink, nearly spit it out. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah… but that wasn’t her. I named them when I was a kid.”

Virgil laughed. “That’s great.”

…

On the way home, Talyn checked the time on their dashboard, hummed, and then glanced over at Virgil. “Do you mind if we stop at Patton’s apartment on the way? I have to pick something up.”

Virgil shrugged. Why would he mind?

Talyn drove to Patton’s apartment building, which Virgil hadn’t actually been to before, and parked on the curb. “Why don’t you come with me? You know Patton: we’re probably going to end up chatting for a bit.”

Virgil nodded, shrugging again. He unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. The two of them walked up to Patton’s building—a stark contrast to Virgil’s own, but most of his friends wouldn’t know that. Roman was still the only one of his closest friends who had visited his run-down apartment building, and Virgil had made him promise not to tell the others about it. He didn’t want them to judge him for it, or worse, to pity him.

Talyn and Virgil were about halfway between the street and the building when Virgil paused.

“Wait, isn’t that Logan’s car over there?” he asked, pointing towards the sleek black car parked a short distance down the block.

Talyn followed his gaze, paused for a second, then said, “Maybe? I’m not sure. It’s a pretty common car.”

Virgil frowned, but he let Talyn lead him up to the building. They pressed the button beside Patton’s apartment number, and he buzzed them in almost immediately.

Walking down the hallway towards Patton’s apartment, Virgil cleared his throat, and then spoke uncertainly, his voice wavering and soft. “This—this was all p-planned… wasn’t it?” He wasn’t sure what made him more anxious to say that, that Talyn might be upset that he figured it out, or that he might be wrong and was about to have a very awkward conversation.

Talyn turned to grin at him, and then reached up and knocked on the door.

Relief flooded through Virgil, accompanied by confusion and, admittedly, a bit of excitement. The door swung open, and a chorus of voices greeted him.

“Happy birthday, Virgil!”

…

Virgil, Patton, Roman, Logan, Talyn, and Joan all sat around Patton’s kitchen table. Virgil, seated before a chocolate birthday cake, was sure his face was bright red as everyone else sang the happy birthday song.  The moment was made all the more embarrassing by two specific friends: Roman, of course, was being way too extra with his singing, adding riffs and changing octaves far more than should have been possible in such a short song; and Logan, meanwhile, sang in such a manner that, if he didn’t know any better, Virgil would have thought he was doing really awkward beat poetry.

The song finally ended, and Virgil leaned forward, blowing out the candles.

They enjoyed the cake after that, and then Patton insisted that they all watch Virgil open his presents.

“Wait—presents?” he repeated.

“Well, it is a birthday party,” Roman pointed out. “Presents are generally included.”

“Yeah, but… you didn’t have to do that. You already….” He gestured around at, well, everything.

“We know we didn’t have to,” Patton assured him. “We wanted to.”

Virgil didn’t have much choice in the matter, so he opened the gifts. They were already bought, he told himself; and it would be rude to refuse. Plus, he was secretly very happy that his friends had done all of this for him.

From Logan, he got a gift card, which he claimed was intended for some audio books that he believed would be calming for him. He had gotten the idea from the large pair of headphones that Virgil carried around in his free time.

From Talyn and Joan, who had already set up the outing to the movies for him, he got a pack of Tarot cards. When he asked about it, Joan shrugged and claimed that they’d thought of him when they saw it at a shop.

Roman gave him a poster of Jack Skellington from Nightmare before Christmas, already framed. He seemed incredibly pleased by Virgil’s shocked expression.

“Dude, how much did you spend on this?” he asked, wide-eyed.

“Don’t worry about it,” Roman said, grinning.

And from Patton, he got a little black, gray, white, and purple friendship bracelet, handmade, and a card that Patton had clearly drawn himself.

Virgil liked the gifts, but he absolutely loved his friends.

...

College AU tag list:  @patton-loves-coloring @starryfirefliesbloggo @purplesoul-at-hogwarts  @lotusthatexists-festivestyle @quoth-the-sparrow @awesomelissawho @amuthefunperson @faithfreedom @heck-im-lost @gayfandomsaremything  @bunny222 @syndianites @astraastro @momolinia @captainswan618 @hamilin-manuel-miranda @goldenkiddos @afilhadehades-blog @virgeofselfdestruction @theresneverenoughfandoms @iris-sanders-athena @super-magical-wizard @rainbow-sides @thefallendog @fanficptsd @zodiac-awesome @lookitsthatquietgirl @soft-boy-patton @nerd-in-space @pearls-of-patton @ab-artist @angered-turtle @im-so-infinitesimal @enby-kiddo-with-a-blog @raygelkitty @dr-gloom @whats-going-on-kiddos @spider-parker14 @oh-star-how-the-mighty-fall @fillyourteacup @kittiebrick

[eponymous-rose]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role Highlights C2E36 (October 2, 2018)

Tonight’s guests are Travis Willingham and Matt Mercer!

Announcements:

The NYC show on Thursday still has tickets! 

The latest episode of Between the Sheets, featuring Laura Bailey, is now available on the Critical Role Twitch channel for subscribers! The VOD will be released on YouTube tomorrow.

The second episode of All Work No Play will air on the Twitch channel on Friday at 7 PM! There will be tapdancing involved.

@critrolestats​ for this week’s episode:

With four games in, the Dallas Cowboys are at a 50%-- wait, wrong stat.

The M9 got their 140th kill in this episode: Nott against the fourth harpy.

This is the third time Fjord has used the dodecahedron, and the second time he’s put a fragment of possibility to use.

DMing when PCs are on the ocean involves trying to figure out what interesting things can be found along the journey. Matt made a small chart to roll on to see what might possibly happen. "It’s a lot of not forcing events, necessarily, every single day, because otherwise nobody would ever fucking be on a boat in a fantasy world.” He wants it to be an adventurous, freeing sensation, and he wants it to be a bit of a sandbox for the players. (The map finally arrived!) “It’s allowing enough intrigue and possibility out there where the players can utilize the ship at their disposal, and coming up with interesting encounters that capitalize on the region and capitalize on the limitations of the ship as well.”

Travis has been on (non-sailing) boats most of his life, so he knows the terminology. “But when it comes to fuckin’ pirate ships...” He wrote Fjord’s backstory with “sailor” in it, but didn’t get a chance to research it at all. Matt was so intimidated by the (three) sailing terms Fjord included in his backstory that he’s been intently studying up on nautical stuff ever since. There are graphs behind his DM screen. Matt: “I was just trying to keep up with him!” 

But Travis has been doing research since then. He’d just never thought about the fact that he might be the only one who knew how to sail a ship. Matt: “It might not have been a major issue if you guys had booked passage...” Travis: “I should have done a moderate level of research just to be more familiar with it, so it’s causing me now to catch up to the homework that you did. We’ll see how this week goes, being that it’s in front of a live crowd...” 

Brian: “This is such a weird metaphor for you guys’ friendship.”

Matt expected Orly was going to be an information source while the group was in Nicodranas. After the M9 stole the ship so unexpectedly, it turned out Orly was the only other person they knew who had the skills they needed. Brian knows it’s a big ask, but he’d love to see amazing cosplay of Orly.

Fjord is definitely wondering whether the sword will react in some way with the water---just touching it in didn’t make a difference, but he’s wondering whether practicing his sword exercises on the ship might’ve had an effect. Travis: “Until now, it’s been a pretty one-sided avenue of communication. I don’t know if there’s any way to *69 that motherfucker.”

Gif of the Week: Caduceus’ “Hello darkness my old friend” moment.

The jellyfish bloom was a random encounter Matt rolled on his table: he has assorted natural sights on the list to add atmosphere. “It was an improvised part of the narrative based on a few rolls.” Brian wants to insure Matt’s brain.

For the map that came out last session, Travis got a quick sneak peek at it. “I love reefs, just from scuba diving, so I memorized those. Most of the trade routes didn’t go over reefs, so if we hit one of those, it would be immediately dangerous.” If people’s backgrounds tie into certain areas, Matt e-mails them summaries as needed so that the players can deliver the information and it’s not just a DM info dump.

Caduceus’ super high perception is opening up a lot of interesting stuff for the party; there were a lot of situations that flew under the radar before, and Matt’s looking forward to finding more moments like that. “You want to reward a player for their strengths.”

Matt mentions that, in all the games he’s played with Taliesin, he’s always played very high-intelligence characters. He’s fascinated to see him play a low-INT high-WIS character with Caduceus.

Travis: “I don’t typically like to give people orders? Fjord was a first mate on the ship, that’s as high as he rose. In my mind, those were people that he had worked with for years. He was receiving orders and then dispersing them, not coming up with the ideas himself. For me, as a player, I enjoyed the luxury of an idiot for the first campaign, because I got to be reactionary. It is an entirely, entirely different thing, and it’s been kind of weird, being responsible for everybody, having to make quick decisions when no one else has any input.” He found himself looking for the bench in the last couple episodes. 

On the clusterfuck at the docks, Travis: “I had gone far below zero hit points in player.” He was so off-balance and nothing seemed to be working. “You can’t always bench yourself. You gotta keep fuckin’ playing.” Matt points out that it’s common to have an off session: “The fact that you’ve finally had a couple is reassuring to the rest of us mortals in your presence.” It’s tough to be the character who has such a major impact on the course of events, and Travis has been learning how to deal with that pressure (after being able to just shrug it off as Grog) and make sure it doesn’t happen again. Travis: “I had a totally different idea of what my participation in the group would be.” He wasn’t expecting to be the face of the group.

Matt mentions that there are sessions where the group has had fun but he goes home “feeling like shit” over some series of mistakes (which often gets reinforced online), but he emphasizes that it’s totally okay to have off nights, and that it’s important to talk it out with players or other DM friends if you’re still feeling upset about it.

Fanart of the Week: Nott and Caduceus having their bonding moment at sea.

Matt: “There was a whole bunch of shit in Nicodranas you could have explored.” Travis: “I love how he gave us a fuckin’ wizard tower.” Matt pointed out that Algar had an employee who ran off during their first attack. “There’s a lot of adventure in Nicodranas still when you return.” Matt points out that sometimes the story you have prepared isn’t as exciting as what the players stumble into on their own. The ramifications when they come back could be a lot of fun, as well. 

Travis on the pressure he’s under for this arc: “The rest of the group is fuckin’ loving it, like a bunch of assholes. They are eating up my panic with spoons and forks.” Matt points out that the tables have turned after the first campaign.

Fjord’s whole backstory was based on trying to disappear; he was just glad to have a role that didn’t require a spotlight. “He just wanted to live a life and have a role and have an existence.” He feels like his unique looks and abilities fit in with the M9, but being put in charge of that, especially in the wake of the massive confidence shake that came with the Lorenzo kidnapping and Molly’s death, he’s still reeling. It’s only been a few weeks since Lorenzo. 

It’s been especially terrifying to realize this Fjord-centric arc is going to be such a big part of the New York live show. Travis: “I was so crestfallen. That was the moment I was like, ‘Fuck.’” Matt, happily: “It’s going to be fun.” Travis, strained and yelling: “IT’S GOING TO BE GREAT.”

Jester’s mom hadn’t heard the rumors of a blue tiefling dying at the docks, so fortunately that information hadn’t gotten to her before Jester sent her message. Matt breaks down the bizarre mystery the guards are dealing with right now: it could have had much, much more serious consequences. “They’re not completely fucked. There’s just some threads of fuckery out there.” Avoiding the patrol ships and being able to disguise themselves has been key. Matt points out that a lot of the Nein have had really skittish, mistrustful backgrounds; over time, they might be more likely to try to interface with the guards in a scenario like that, but they’re not there yet.

Travis on the jellyfish conversation: “I was kind of in awe of my wife at that moment. Her emotional availability is second to none. And then to take that beautiful moment and be so introspective about that character. I was trying to ask her questions, and then she pointed it dead on at me. I was like, oh god, I don’t know. I was trying to be sensitive and do something that would make her feel better, but man, it left both of us---Fjord and me---shook. I interpreted it one way. There had been gentle teasings. But man, when the emotions are real...” 

Matt’s been finding it interesting that Fjord and Caleb have been taking on leadership roles in a non-competitive, please-take-this way, and he’s excited to see how the roles are distributed moving forward. “I fuckin’ love D&D. Oh my god.”

Matt points out that the M9 is a different kind of found family than VM. “All of Vox Machina seemed pretty confident of who they were and what they wanted to be in the world. This group is very different; they’re these lost souls who, through their connections to each other, are trying to find a purpose and keep each other safe.” He likes the natural pace of that development and is happy that themes of change and redemption are so prominent in their character arcs. “As the kids on the internet say, ‘I’m here for it.’”

Travis: “I had to ask Liam this week what ‘stan’ meant. I thought they left the ‘d’ off it.”

Hats appear.

Talks Machina: Is It the Same Channel?

Brian, on the perfect burrito: “Skittles. Starburst bites. Jujubes. Wrapped in a fruit roll-up.” That is a little too close to my actual dinner tonight and I may have to reevaluate some of my life choices.

Their favorite thing about the live show is the energy. Matt: “It’s one thing to be playing together as friends, but once every now and then, being able to share it live there with so many people who are as excited as we are to be there. Of all the years I’ve done theatre and that high I’ve had on stage, this is even better for me.” Much as the heart of the show is its intimate nature, they love having the live show as a change of pace a couple of times a year. Matt points out that the weirdness of live D&D is that the audience there is as knowledgeable and invested. “It’s not like there’s a barrier and you’re here to entertain, you’re all just here in this moment.”

Travis mentions that alignment’s been more important at the start of the game when they’ve been trying to establish their character, just to keep from veering off into random stabs at action. Matt: “I think alignment’s a great guide if you’re unfamiliar with the process of realizing a personality that’s different from yours and stepping into their shoes. I prefer to think that characters’ actions drive alignment, rather than alignment driving characters’ actions. I don’t feel like you should use alignment as a way of excluding yourselves from making those choices that otherwise a character would never make.”

Matt: “Don’t google ‘burrito train’.”

It takes like ten minutes to Brian’s nipple rings.

Dani, being shipped to New York.

[orionliddle]

three’s a crowd || orion, ela, & mitch

WHO: Orion Liddle, Mitch Roux, and Ela Potter @itsmitchroux @elaolivia

WHEN: Thursday after the Welcome Back party.

WHERE: Rho Sig house, Orion’s room.

WHAT: Mitch comes by Orion’s to get a fix to calm him down, too bad he doesn’t know to wait after you knock, finding Ela in Orion’s shirt and the obvious situation going on. Madness ensues. All in all- A HOT MESS.

Mitch

It had been... a tough weekend for Mitchell Roux. Like, really tough. Actually, it had been just a tough couple of days. After getting rejected by Ela after their dad on Friday, Mitch had spent the whole weekend stewing in his room, only leaving today for class and because his sister had told him 'it was pathetic for him to waste away in his room after one rejection.' So he left, he went to class, he went and worked out, and now he was headed to the Rao Sig house in hopes of replinishing his stash before going back to his room for the night. The guys at Rao knew him well enough, what with his friendship with Hook and his buying from Orion pretty regularly, it was just kinda second nature to see the Alpha Sig president roaming the halls. Finally making it to Orion's room, he knocked once, moer as formality than anything, before entering the room. "Hey man I need the best fucking shit you've got cause it's been a rough-" His voice fell and the rest of the sentance forgotten when he registered the scene in front of him. Orion, hair messy and shirtless. Ela. In said shirt. And nothing else. The sheets rumpled and clothes thrown about the floor. He could feel his stomach in his throat, and his blood start to boil. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Orion

It was a whirlwind for a week for Orion as well, but maybe not so much of the same reasoning as Mitch. Ela and him were together, it was strange to have someone to spend time with, to hold and to just be at peace with. And also, well, they didn't leave his room all that much given the fact they were pretty much all over each other in a honeymoon like stage. So that explained why he was in his room, later in the afternoon, working on a sketch while Ela laid in his shirt behind him. A joint in his mouth as he focused, he heard a knock and was about to get up to answer because he didn't want anyone barging in on Ela like she was. But it seemed whoever it was didn't want to wait, swinging the door open, Orion raised a brow at the sight of Mitch. It was probably awkward, but he certainly didn't expect the reaction the future king gave him. "Whoa...." He began, standing up, thankful he'd tugged on a pair of shorts not too long ago as he pushed his messy hair out of his face, "Uh, maybe next time if you knock you might want to wait a second....?" His tone wasn't rude, if anything he really didn't know what to say as he ashed the joint in the ashtray on his night stand and exhaling the smoke.

Ela

In bliss just lazing and watching Orion sketch, Ela had really only thrown on his shirt because she had felt a chill . She was certainly glad she did, however,  when she watched the doorknob turn from across the room. Now, if it had been one of Ry's fellow Sig Nu brother's she would have just chuckled and easily brushed it off. It wasn't exactly a mystery what the two of them were getting up to in here between sweet words and lulls of just being together in comfortable silence. When she instantly recognized Mitch's voice though - her eyes widened and shock hit her like a ton of bricks. His reaction made sense, she hadn't told him who she was with when she said there was someone else. "Mitch - " she said, almost as if to tell him to level his voice. If he was upset, fine. Was this awkward? Yes. But she knew him, he had a temper -- and the last thing she wanted was for him to take out any frustration on Ry.

Mitch

Looking back on everything, Mitch would easily tell you he wasn't mad at Orion or Ela. He really wasn't. He was mad at the situation, at the way this had all turned out, and at the fact that none of those damned assholes downstairs felt the need to mention what he was walking into. Either they were all idiots, or they wanted to see this play out. Regardless, the anger he was feeling made his voice grow as he tried to control it. "Really? Are you gonna talk to me about manners right now?" He spat, looking between the pair. "How about your manners, bro. You stood there with me at the party and didn't even tell me it was Ela? She was my fucking date. And you just let me talk. Was it a fucking joke? Something you two could laugh about later?" And then he looked back at Ela, the hurt in his eyes back. "Really?" He knew that Orion was a good guy, and deep down he didn't mean for it to come out that way, but Zeus, she could've fucking told him.

Orion

His brows drew together, stubbing the joint out as he raised his hands, this was for sure gathering attention of his housemates. "Dude...." Orion began, shaking his head as he shrugged, looking back at Ela. He wasn't one for fighting, he kept things as calm as he possibly could, and considering he was a little high at the moment he kept his voice chilled out, "First off, when I told you I had my eye on someone, I didn't even know you two were together. If I had, do you really think I would've even brought it up? Things are complicated, I get that, but there's really no need for all of this man..." He said softly, not wanting to make the situation worse as he stood in front of Ela merely out of instinct at this point.

Ela

Ela listened to the boys go back and fourth, concern rising as Mitch was obviously not in the best state. She could see a mark just below his eye that caused her brow the furrow. What had happened? However when things were turned to her, accusing the two of them of trying to make him feel inferior or 'laughing at him behind his back' honestly hurt. After everything, did he not know her at all? Pursing her lips, she tried to put herself in his shoes right now. Yes, perhaps  she should have specified who she was interested in... but also why? As far as she knew the two boys weren't ever close. She had easily forgotten that Orion dealing could have been a factor. "I didn't tell him." Ela admitted, she hadn't known the two had spoken about her that night but it was clear wires were crossed. "It's not his fault, it was mine. He didn't find out I was your date until later." Taking responsibility made her feel kind of terrible right now given the situation  but she had to. Soon, she found herself climbing out of the bed. Ry may have felt like he needed to be between them but she wasn't sure that was the case and she needed to be prepared if Orion's relaxed demenor didn't diffuse the situation. "If you want to be mad at someone, be mad at me." she said, a heavy ache settling in her stomach. She didn't know if bringing this all up again would make Orion feel the way he felt when he left her that night.

Mitch

A humourous laugh left Mitch's lips as Orion began to speak. Dude, man.. he was so fucking chill. Zeus, how had Mitch ever put up with that shit before? "Oh fuck you with your hippie stoner bullshit, Orion." Mitch spat, moving in just a bit closer. He had gotten into one fight today, he always had room for another. "No need for all of this? Shove it." He was ready to move closer, to grab the blonde and shove him out that damn fucking window with his talk of peace and being chill. There was nothing more satisfying then punching someone who was trying to get you to calm down. But suddenly Ela was in between the two, and any advance Mitch was making on Orion was paused. He heard her words, and he couldn't find himself relaxing any more. So she just kept quiet to both of them the whole night. "Fine. I'll be mad. Work on your fucking communication skills Ela, cause you would've saved us all this bullshit if you were just straight up from the beginning." When he asked her on the date. When she started whatever with Orion. If both boys had just known about each other, there was a chance things would've been a lot easier.

Orion

The laugh only caused Orion to give a slight roll of his eyes, obviously Mitch wasn't listening at this point, so he was going to drop it until he made that comment and Orion raised a brow at him, "Okay, yeah, go fuck yourself too dude. I didn't do a damn thing to you to my knowledge. So get over yourself, honestly. I don't wish you any ill will here." He admitted as he watched Mitch move in a bit, and Orion stood his ground. Sure, Mitch was an aggressive dude and he wasn't, but they were about the same size for the most part so he wasn't that intimidated. It wasn't until Ela slid up to step between them that he relaxed a bit, pursing his lips together as he glanced at the ground. He was caught up to speed already, but Mitch wasn't, so he stood there while Ela filled him in. But when the male swore at Ela, he shook his head, "Dont talk to her like that. It's irritating, but what's done is done. Just let it go." The blonde said sternly, clearing his throat as he walked over to his drawer and pulled out a bag that Mitch no doubt came here for and tossed it towards him, "There, you got what you came for. Free of charge."

Ela

When Mitch turned to her, speaking to her in a tone he had never, ever used on her in their entire time together, Ela tried her best to stand tall through it. It was hard, because not only did she know he was partially right but she also knew that this was all coming from a place much deeper than the anger he was expressing on the surface. Then Orion was defending her - which she appreciated very much, as shown by the look she gave him from over her shoulder - but she knew it was probably adding fuel to the fire.  She couldn't imagine that Mitch appreciated being told what to do by the guy who's shirt she was wearing right now. So as Orion turned to go get whatever Mitch had come here for from the drawer, Ela moved closer to the dark haired man - her blue eyes sad but stern as she spoke low. "Mitch, I know you're pissed off but you are way out of line and you need to go." she warned,  her expression mirroring her fathers as she watched Orion toss a bag towards him from beside her.

Mitch

He might've left, maybe, if Orion had just finished talking when he did. He might've listened to Ela too, but the second Orion toss that bag his way, any and all anger Mitch was feeling amplified by ten. "Fuck you" He muttered, grabbing the baggy off the ground and then brushing past Ela without so much as glance to shove Orion back into his dresser. It took everything in him not to punch the kid square in the face. "Do that again, Liddle, and I'll knock your fucking teeth out. Free of charge." He repeated the words back to him, the threat clear. Slamming the bag down on the dresser next to Orion, Mitch pushed himself away with all his might. "Save your shit. I'll find someone else from now on."

Orion

Maybe he should've kept his mouth shut, or not grabbed the bag, but in all honesty he really didn't mean anything bad by it. It was what he came over for anyways, so he thought the quicker he grabbed it for him, the quicker he'd leave. The free of charge comment solely to speed up his exit, but it seemed it did the opposite. The shove catching him entirely off guard, but he still held that same air of calm, staring at Mitch in the face with a raise of his brow, "....probably not the best idea, but I got it." He confirmed with a slow nod, clenching his jaw as he held composure when Mitch slammed the baggie onto his dresser, sighing as he ran his fingers through his hair. He wanted to say something, tell him taking the baggie would probably help calm him down, but he didn't. Instead nodding with his lips pursed in a straight line as he watched the ever growing angry man.

Ela

The moment Mitch brushed past her, Ela's heartrate spiked and she was hit hard with the fear that Mitch was going to hurt Ry. She was glad Orion could keep a level head but she certainly couldn't do the same. Not when Mitch had been warned so many times and continued to take his anger out on the blonde in his own room. So as soon as she could wedge herself between the boys  - her hands made firm contact with Mitch's chest. Sure, she had nothing on him size wise, but she was raised to work every muscle in the body to grow up in the environment she did. She knew she could at least get a little space between them. Pushing him back hard , it was clear that now she was really angry. "Do you want to try that on me?" she questioned. She knew that he never would but he had no reason to do so to Orion either. Regardless of what happened between them, this was just uncalled for. Her ears were burning and she knew if he tried to hurt Orion again, there would be no brushing past her. "Get. out."

Mitch

It must have been a look of surprise that overtook Mitch's face when he felt Ela wedge her way between both him and Orion, pushing him back rather forcefully. Zeus what the fuck was happening right now. He was seconds away from beating Orion up, for what? Because Ela wanted to be with him? He looked into her eyes, the rage he saw, what probably only mirror his own, and he felt himself breathe. Start to get a little more level headed. He looked between the two, and as his face dropped into what could only be explained as disapointment, he pulled himself away. "Sorry." He grumbled, running his hand through his hair before walking out the way he came. He needed to go back to his room. Deal with this shit somewhere else.

Orion

Chest rising and falling, but seemingly still rather calm, he watched as Ela got between them. She was defending him, clearly Orion couldn't do the same to calm Mitch down, so maybe it was for the best. He was about to pull her back, in fear he'd get angry at Ela, but he paused when he calmed down. Pursing his lips together as Mitch glanced back at him, he swallowed down his anger that was only slightly there under the haze of his high, he looked like he regretted all of this already anyways. Soon enough he was gone, and Orion nibbled on his bottom lip as he stared at the back of Ela's head, sensing her unease as he walked up behind her, "Hey....." He murmured softly, grabbing her hand as he pulled her back against his chest, "I'm sorry, I should've locked the door...I forgot, it's my fault. Things shouldn't have gotten that out of hand."

Ela

Honestly when Mitch calmed, Ela knew any other time she would have let herself relax too. But she couldn't. She had done everything she could to be there for her him in times of stress, grief, desire, lust. She had been everything and seemingly nothing to him for months and now he couldn't respect her enough to let her move on with her life without threatening to boy whose she now shared her affections with? Watching him leave, she just stood there - breath heavier than normal as she kept her gaze on the doorway. The only thing that pulled her out of it was the feeling of Orion's hand as she pulled her out of her firm stance. His apology fell on deaf ears. He shouldn't have HAD to lock his door to avoid this outburst. She was the one who got caught between the two of them - Mitch's angry words still lingering in the back of her mind. But instead of arguing, she simply let herself sink into his embrace, hiding her face between his neck and the stop of his shoulder. Being here with him calmed her - she knew she was right where she needed to be, but she couldn't help worry that Mitch was going to get himself into even more trouble after he left.

[crimsonandclover-kataclysm]

Chapter 3- Get yourself together, boy

Crimson and Clover- Read on Ao3

Chapter 3- Read on Ao3

February, 1985. Hawkins, Indiana

Jane was the first to notice the flicker.

Since having been adopted by Chief of Police, Jim Hopper, Jane became more acclimated to routine and structure. She actually felt comfortable enough to begin school in the second semester, as long as she worked with a tutor twice a week to make up for lost time. Learning was something she really enjoyed, and it felt good to her knowing that the more she studied, the more she’d be able to communicate and relate to the people around her. Mike would even help her study two more times per week, which she considered pretty close to tutoring. He seemed to understand how to phrase things in ways she would understand. She was a quick learner though, and in a few short weeks, she was reading and writing basic sentences, doing simple arithmetic, and even starting to recall a few dates from her history lessons.

It felt like after years of having nothing to hold on to, Jane had a family in Jim, her mom, and her aunt (who she and Hopper visited every weekend), she had a consistent schedule in school, and she had a small group of friends who had only just stopped accidentally calling her “El”. She preferred Jane- it connected her to an identity she had missed. Jane even worked her way to speaking terms with Max, who no longer paid much attention to Mike outside of the party. And all of this was happening under the guise of Hopper adopting a feral kid from Missouri. No one seemed to question what went on in Missouri.

Jane had been leaving her Thursday tutoring session after school when she saw it. Waving goodbye to Jeannie, she threw her backpack over her shoulder and headed toward the gym to meet Mike behind the school. As she made her way up the short flight of stairs, to her right was the wall she broke through nearly a year and a half before. She stopped to look at the repainted paw print when something in her stilled. The fluorescent lighting above flickering on and off. Her eyes shot up, and she took a few deep breaths to steady herself before adjusting the strap of her backpack on her shoulder. When the high schooler that helped out in the gym passed her with a quizzical look on her face, Jane shook her head, shot her a quick smile, and continued walking.

Billy could not stop thinking about Diana Miller. Since their all-too-brief encounter in front of his house, he had been thinking about her everywhere he went. Even at times he probably shouldn’t have been. Billy never entered a room without scanning to find the strongest person already standing in it. Now, he couldn’t help himself from scanning every room he entered for Diana. Di, they called her. He hadn’t gleaned too much from passing conversations with people about the girl, which was unfortunate because he had to be careful not to seem too interested… even though he was.

He knew she lived with her mom, and he would frequently see her outside of the middle school. One day, Max had revealed to him that she was a teaching assistant for the gym coach, and he began to notice her name on track and swimming trophies in the showcases outside of the high school gym. He also knew from classes that she was a good student who seemed to stay out of trouble. Though he saw her talking to nearly everyone in the school, he very rarely actually heard her say anything. She stood tall and proud though, which communicated enough, and he liked that she didn’t seem scared of him.

Most people were at the very least intimidated by Billy Hargrove, and he was not at all shy of the fact that he was the shiny new toy at Hawkins High School. Really, he milked it. And most people paid attention. The girls were drawn to his tight-fitting jeans like moth to a flame- that’s why he wore them, after all- and the boys needed an Alpha. Billy always could detect a leadership vacuum. Hell, he lived in one. However, with her volatile temperament toward him, he had something to contend with in Diana Miller, and he craved it.

Despite craving the challenge she posed, he also hated it. Since leaving California, he felt that he had nothing to look forward to. Hawkins was undoubtably boring- even all the residents said that “nothing happens in this town”. Sitting on the ground in Los Angeles was more interesting than anything that was available to do in Hawkins. So Billy was annoyed to his limits that there was something that actually made him like the shit town a little bit more. Diana Miller was that something.

At points, he had the inkling that Max might have been catching on. She was mentioning Di more in their car rides home from school, and he even heard her talking to Susan about how she had heard that the Miller girl was an excellent babysitter, and that Max really wanted Diana’s advice on her form in soccer. Which is why when Billy and Max were stuck behind Diana riding her bike on the road on their way to school one morning, Billy made a show about edging up on her and revving his engine. Upon hearing the car behind her, Di turned her head, saw Billy, and groaned. She was not about to let him act like a child, so she immediately slowed her pedaling, shifting toward the center of the lane. Knowing full well that there were cars coming the opposite way and that he would not be able to get around her. Billy's face reddened, and he let out a huff as he slammed his head against the seat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Max’s lips stretch into a repressed smile, and when the road was clear, he gunned it past Diana, who threw her middle finger up in protest, making eye contact with both of them through his window. When she saw Max, she waved, which Max returned happily, but when they had passed, Billy saw through the rearview mirror that Diana had stuck her tongue out at him petulantly. “Jackass,” he muttered, wearing an expression that Max took as him being amused.

Although they shared multiple classes together, Billy had yet to acknowledge Diana at school. He had begun to watch her though. In the hallway, partway through class, walking to lunch. It was as if he had some form of tracker on her- he was always aware of where she was in relation to him. It pissed him off.

Basketball practice was a relief, however even that was about to end. He liked being able to just be physical for a cause. It was a language he spoke well. Especially when teamed up against Steve Harrington, who he had yet to forget about seeing with Diana. Billy didn’t hate Steve, Billy just hated what Steve represented. In fact, Billy rather liked Steve, appreciating the aloof nature that caused him to rise to the top of the gene cesspool of Hawkins. But Steve was small town, a big fish in a small pond. And Billy had to learn how to be a big fish in a big pond in Venice Beach, so Steve’s easy cool and big hair frustrated him. He usually took it out on Steve in practice by taunting and jeering, but he decided that today I’m just going to kick his ass. And he did. Billy didn’t hold back, and by the end of practice, Steve was a winded mess of deflated hair and unresolved aggression.

In the locker room after practice, Steve was visibly annoyed, and Billy challenged him with a smug smirk. Steve took the bait. “So, got your eyes on Di Miller, huh?” Billy’s eyes narrowed, and without responding, he headed into the shower area. Steve followed him in, not relenting. “You know, she’s definitely way above your standards. Finally shooting for something with more than a pulse?”

The hot water was running down his back, soothing the muscles from the aggressive practice, but that wasn’t the reason for Billy’s rising temperature. Choosing to take Steve’s jabs in stride, he shot him a shit-eating grin. “I know, right? Have you seen these girls though? Not much to choose from.”

Steve ignored him. “Pretty smart of you, getting your sister to ask Di for help after school for soccer tryouts. That was your idea, right?”

Di was helping Max prep for tryouts? Billy’s mind raced. He didn’t like that Steve knew that information and he didn’t, but he almost felt a small swell of pride for Max in her efforts. There was no way that he could let Steve have the last word - he had let Steve Harrington say damn well enough today already - so he settled for the low blow. “And how are things going between you and the princess again? Maybe I’ll go after her since you clearly weren’t enough to keep her satisfied.” Billy had won. Steve ground his teeth, and his hand formed a fist - as if he were contemplating punching Billy. But on second thought, with the still recent memory of the blunt pain of Billy’s rings hitting his face at the Byers’, Steve forced himself to relax and didn’t say another word as he left Billy standing under the steaming shower.

Billy was curious. Steve’s words about Max and Di still ricocheting in his head, he parked close to the gym doors of the middle school. Seeing the door was slightly propped open, he entered quietly, leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. A smile crept over his face as he scanned the gym class- he wanted to be discreet, so he made sure to come before the end of the school day. He spotted her almost immediately, working with a group of girls on running drills across the width of the gym, counting himself lucky that there was a group of boys playing basketball between them. The second thing he noticed was that curly-headed kid Dustin tapping Sinclair on the arm, his jaw hanging low and eyes trained on Billy. Internally finding the humor in Lucas' mouthed "oh shit" at the sight of him. Lucas' eyes flickering between Billy and Max, Billy placed his finger against his lips in a silent show of secrecy. Lucas and Dustin both nodded frantically, signaling their friends to return to their game.

Di was leading passing drills, staggering three pairs across the gym to pass and receive the ball. He watched her coach them on technique with that same slight smile on his face. Her back was to him, and his eyes wandered over her figure. Dark hair tied up into a ponytail at the crown of her head. The sleeves of her sweatshirt pulled above her elbows, hands above her hips. Her feet planted in a wide second stance. His gaze lingered low- those leggings were doing her all kinds of favors.

Max was in the last pair, and although he was aware that she was at least a little athletic, he was impressed at her speed and coordination. Neither had noticed him yet, so he stayed where he was, even after the gym class had ended. When they switched to one on one shooting drills, he nearly had a heart attack watching Di demonstrate with the coach. They had changed orientation so that they were running length-wise down the gym, and Max had finally seen Billy. He wasn’t paying her any attention though- his focus was on the girl running straight toward him. The blue of her eyes caught against the blushed red of her cheeks, her body lean, strong, and fast as she dodged her coach. She halted at the free throw line, tucking her toe under the soccer ball and sending it flying toward Billy. Max watched his eyes widen as the ball made contact with his stomach, his breath releasing in a loud “oof!” and his arms wrapping around the ball. Max was grinning and was not at all worried about his reaction. Not that she had anything to worry about. Billy was too focused on Diana.

Diana beamed a cheeky smile at Billy, and despite the wind just returning to his lungs, he quirked his eyebrows and sent a smirk back, tossing the ball back into her arms. She turned around to head back to the girls, and his gaze shifted once again to those leggings. He had the thought that he should personally thank whoever made those leggings - purely for the effect they had on him. And it wasn’t just the leggings, it was all of Diana.

He could count on one hand the number of times he had experienced true regret, but he definitely was kicking himself now for not having noticed Diana Miller before. He had been missing out on her. Maybe that was a blessing in disguise though - because honestly, he’d never stop noticing her now. His body wouldn’t allow it. Although, he wasn’t sure that he trusted his body anymore considering its current reaction to her flushed cheeks, long legs, and blue eyes - a reaction that probably wasn’t too appropriate in a gym full of middle school girls. And in jeans as tight as his, he had to be especially careful. As soon as he could force himself to move, he ducked out of the gym doors and headed straight to his car to cool the hell down before Max got done.

Max charged through the gym door with the echo of a laugh on her face, smiling even wider when she saw Billy. Unclear as to whether or not she was actually looking at him, his eyebrows shot up in awe when she spoke excitedly, “Di could not stop smiling after you- how did you know to come? Do you li-” Catching herself from being too amicable as she saw the look of shock on his face, she slowed down her pace and allowed her expression to falter, assuming nonchalance. With a quick jerk of his head toward the car, Billy and Max both slammed the doors behind them. Billy hadn’t turned on the car yet. Billy’s focus locked onto Max, voice quiet, he spoke.

“You didn’t tell me you had shit after school,” the timbre of his voice calm and low. But not angry, Max noted. “Everyday?” Max thought on Billy's words- Was he thinking about coming to the gym again? Did he like Diana? Obviously, making an appearance in the gym showed some sort of curiosity from him; though she wondered how he found out about her asking Di for extra help. Then again, she wasn’t really all that surprised- sometimes Billy just knew things.

She considered briefly if he knew that Diana had an effect on him that Max liked: ruffling her hair rather than threatening her, smirking rather than scowling, and conversing rather than shouting. If Billy had known her intentions, would he have been playing into them so easily? Or did he even realize yet that he liked Diana? Questions raced through Max’s mind as she fixed her gaze on a small spot on the windshield, and she felt Billy’s resignation from her silence as he sighed, turning the keys in the ignition. “Whatever,” he mumbled. “You have shit form anyway.” Max turned to the passenger window with a small smirk on her face.

Aside from the dull pulse of Van Halen coursing through the speakers, the near silent atmosphere of the car annoyed Billy. He had questions for Max that he had no desire to ask (Discussing girls with Max? That was a can of worms that could be left unopened), and even so, he thought the answers might have been unwelcome. So he kept his mouth shut and kept driving. When they arrived at the house, he noted that his father’s car was not around and breathed a sigh of relief, not acknowledging Max as he beat her to the door, leaving the tension of the almost conversation in his car.

Storming through the house to his room, Billy passed Susan, Max’s mother. He didn’t pay her much attention except for a quick nod, but out of the corner of his eye, he could see her regarding him closely. Nothing inside of him wanted to stay to find out what that was about, so he hurried to the back of the house to the only place that felt like it was his. Billy’s room wasn’t much, and he was aware of that. He had minimal decor that included a small vanity fashioned from old crates and a mirror propped against the wall. Aside from a few risqué posters taped up deliberately, there wasn’t much evidence that a teenage boy occupied the room. Billy liked to keep what few things he had in his room put away. He hated clutter, which was fine because you had to have stuff to have clutter, and frankly, he didn’t have much at all. Just some cologne, a crumpled pack of cigarettes, and a few stray earrings sat on the vanity top to show that Billy really did live there. HIs bed was made with hard edges- the only warmth existed in the makeshift nightstand on the other side. More crates stacked with the open sides facing toward the bed revealing a load of books stuffed however they would go, and an excess even stacked on top.

A small knock resonated on his door as he shook off his denim jacket from his shoulders. Susan, slight in stature, peeked around the door frame. With Billy making no immediate protestations to her presence, she took advantage of the opportunity to slip into his room, taking a seat on the very corner of his bed. She perched carefully, almost like a small and timid bird, so delicately that he hoped she might just slip off of it. “Your father and I are going out Friday night,” she started as she looked up at Billy expectantly. She was only met with another brief nod as he rolled his lips between his teeth in frustration, anger brewing in his chest that he had to give up yet another night to watch Max. That bitch is perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She proved that at the Byers’, he thought bitterly. “But I was thinking,” Susan patted the spot on the bed next to her, motioning for him to sit. Without conscious effort, he obeyed, mentally kicking himself for being so compliant. “You’re a good boy, Billy.” If only she knew. “You’ve been doing so well at keeping an eye out for Maxine,” Susan was waffling, and Billy knew it. He didn’t like her motherly tone- she was absolutely not his mother- and he thought he should have interrupted, sent her out, been rude. But he wasn’t and he didn’t; he only looked away. Her hand tapped his face gently as she pulled him to look at her. She looked sincere. “You’re a good looking boy- you should go out. I remember being a kid, and everyone deserves some time to blow off steam. Enjoy yourself. I’ll ask that Miller girl down the road to watch Max.” Billy’s brow furrowed in confusion as he registered her meaning and what she was offering to him, but in the back of his mind, his father’s voice rang out sharply about responsibility and respect. “There’s no need for him to know. This can be our little secret.”

Diana Miller felt tired all the time. She had classes and work at school, training and work at the gym, and work and sleep at home. But occasionally, she had a moment where she could lay across her designated armchair in her living room and watch a minute of television, or if she wasn’t totally braindead, read a bit of a nice book. On this specific Tuesday afternoon, her water aerobics class had been canceled due to a conflicting community Bingo night, so she was sprawled across the plush cushions with Of Love and Shadows in hand, avoiding any other obligation. Sandra was pulling a personal training shift at the gym, so Di had fixed herself a nacho dinner out of some leftover sloppy joe meat and Ruffles chips and was balancing her plate on her stomach as she read intently. She was picking at some rogue sloppy joe meat that had fallen from a chip onto the heather gray material of her sweatpants when she jumped at the ringing of the doorbell, dropping her book as her hands went immediately to protect her food and catch her plate. Setting it on the seat cushion, she jogged over to the door, straightening out her t-shirt and grimacing at her reflection in the mirror.

Her gaze shifted down as she pulled the door open to reveal Max standing awkwardly with her hands behind her back and her bottom lip pulled beneath her teeth. Maybe it was just that she was Max’s teacher and felt a sort of maternal bond to her, but Di immediately straightened, looking around as an overprotective sister might. Max smiled, “Hey, Miller.”

Ushering Max inside her house, Di looked at the redhead warily, “Is everything okay?” Motioning for Max to take a seat on the couch, Di planted herself right beside her, sinking into the arm as she faced the girl who looked almost nervous across from her.

“Are you busy Friday night?” Di was eyeing her suspiciously as she posed the question rather bluntly. Max’s gaze shifted to the armchair with the nachos and she shuffled uncomfortably in the couch cushions. Glancing around the warm wood-trimmed living room and noticing the pictures of Di and who she could only presume was Mrs. Miller hung around the room with artistic pictures of various landscapes littered in between. Ceramic artifacts and whittled wood sculptures had been mounted on the walls causing the house to have an eclectic and exotic feel to it. Max wasn’t really surprised seeing all of the various souvenirs having heard a little from Diana about her travels with her mother. She was the only person in Hawkins who Max could talk to about California… who would understand why Max missed it like she did. Except for perhaps Billy, but Billy didn’t talk to Max about much.

Diana hadn’t answered, still scrutinizing Max, so Max continued, “It’s just, my mom and stepdad are going out and I was hoping you could come over and help me with soccer stuff again. I don’t know that I can stay after school anymore this week.” Diana thought to Billy and wondered if it was his fault that Max wouldn’t be returning, that protective nature taking over again as her fist clenched white at her side.

When she realized how irrational her anger was, she relaxed her hand and smiled softly at Max. “Friday night is perfect.” Max shot off the couch, engulfing her in a hug as Di let out a soft “oof” and a string of giggles at the force of it. As she realized how abrupt her gesture was, Max began to laugh as well, and she fell backward onto the seat cushions, splaying her arms out wide. Di cleared her throat before walking over to her armchair and offering Max a nacho.

“This is disgusting,” Max eyed the smothered Ruffles chip cautiously before stuffing it in her mouth.

Gyms stink- this was a fact that Diana was always privy to. However, she was taking special note having experienced full class loads of sweaty teenagers running laps around it. Something about the air that didn’t circulate properly combined with the multitudes of thirteen year olds that had not yet discovered the wonders of deodorant and anti-perspirant made for a winning combination that had Diana attempting to discreetly cover her nose with her wrist while also correcting sprint form.

“Dustin, straighten your back, please,” she called through the material of her blouse. He smiled a toothy grin and gave her a thumbs up before continuing his sprint, his somewhat aligned spine eventually crumpling into a hunch again, arms swinging erratically at his sides. Coach Hart was on the other side of the gym, barking similar instructions, and Diana noticed that she had propped the door to the outside open as a chance for the room to air out. Amused when students in their gym shorts and t-shirts would actively avoid running in front of the door, hugging themselves for warmth, she stifled a giggle as Hart made eye contact with her and fanned her hand in front of her face. Di was still mostly enjoying her time working with the eighth grade gym class, though she couldn’t admit to the smell being her favorite. However, she did have to drop a couple of her other obligations due to her school work beginning to falter. She hadn’t seen her friends outside of brief conversations in the hallways during school. No more late nights covering the lifeguard post at the community center, and she had to turn down a couple of weeknight babysitting gigs. Sandra had mentioned they were in a good spot financially though- that they should be able to afford the down payment on the Jeep come April- but that had meant less nights with Sandra as she had been pulling so many extra shifts. Diana had been so tired one morning that she almost fell asleep biking to school; she couldn’t imagine how her mother was doing it. Missy may have compared Di to Wonder Woman, but Diana could only view Sandra as a superhero.

As she saw the ginger hair pulled into a long ponytail resembling her own, Di’s focus shifted to Max and she smiled. The eighth grader picked up her pace as she passed, feigning kicking a soccer ball when she reached the corner. The gym classes had been fairly uneventful since Monday afternoon when Billy Hargrove made his appearance. In fact, Di had been expecting Steve to drop by Wednesday like usual, yet he was nowhere to be found. Diana tried to stay after with Dustin to find out why, but even he made a clean getaway straight after class. Although she enjoyed her chats with Steve, she wasn’t too broken up about not seeing him. Somehow her slight encounter with Billy Hargrove was a reasonable replacement, and though she couldn’t say why, the shock on his face when her aim had met its target and body caved around the soccer ball had been replaying in her mind for the past four days.

It was strange thinking of Billy- she didn’t particularly know him that well, and what she did know of him, she shouldn’t really like. But he had those stupid curls and that smirk that hit her like a blow to the stomach. Plus there was the matter of her spending an extended amount of time in his house in just a few short hours. She would have just enough time for a run and a shower after school to get there after 6 o’clock, and she hoped that would be the cure for whatever was going on inside her head. Maybe a little fresh air would help her clear her mind before facing the lion’s den.

Max let Diana in exactly at 6:45. She had made it very clear that Diana was not to come before then as to avoid Neil, so Di kept watch from her house until she was sure that there was no chance of her running into the adults. Walking into the Hargrove household, the first thing Diana noticed was the sparing use of furniture. Modestly decorated, only the basics were on display- a simply upholstered couch and a couple of chairs set around the walls of the room. The green mantle held a large jar of seashells, a lamp, and a vase of flowers with small framed photographs placed in between. Taking a step forward, Diana picked up one of the frames observing swimsuit-clad Billy and Max standing against what must have been the California shoreline, each holding their own surfboards and Billy’s arm strewn around Max’s shoulders. Max had been laughing, eyes set in squints that were focused on Billy, whose stark-white teeth were fully bared in a smile that seemed to break his whole face. It looked to be a nice memory.

The second thing Diana spotted was the exercise equipment positioned in careful right angles in the corner of the den closest to the living room. A grin crept across her face at the sight of the bench and barbell, twenty-five pound weights with ten pound ends on each side, and she was a little ashamed to admit that her interest was piqued with the thought of Billy benching that much. The television and stand sat diagonally in the corner, an open beer can on the ledge. Max cleared her throat, snapping Di out of her stupor, “Billy works out a lot.”

Diana’s eyes shot over to Max, and she smiled widely. “You know, we can totally use this stuff to train. Weights are just as important as cardio and drills.” She ran her fingertips over the bar- Diana spent most of her time around equipment but didn’t have any at home, and she was a little envious.

Shaking her head, Max spoke at a low volume, nodding her head towards the back of the house, “He doesn’t let anyone else touch it.” Diana had been so busy noticing all of the details of the house that she hadn’t heard the accompanying soundtrack. Following the bass line, she was able to gather that Billy Squier’s “The Stroke” was resonating from where Max had gestured, alerting her to Billy’s presence. She hadn’t realized that Billy would still be at the house, and a wave of something she couldn’t place washed over her. Nerves.

Max had already disappeared into what Diana presumed to be the kitchen when the music shut off and a door opened and closed immediately afterward. The boy in question walked through, shrugging a well-worn brown leather jacket over the shoulders of his powder blue button down (to be fair, calling it a button down was a bit generous considering Diana could see Billy’s torso all the way down the defined ridges of his abs). He stopped cold, seeing Diana Miller standing next to the only other area in the house that felt like it belonged to him. Eyes traveling over the length of her, he said a silent thank you that she was wearing those leggings again, a loose cable-knit sweater draped over her torso. As his gaze made its way back up to her face, he pulled his collar up flush against his neck, locking eyes with her for the first time that night. “Diana Miller,” he said smoothly, pulling his lips between his teeth. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Despite soft curls fanning his wow clean-shaven face and the sharp blue of his eyes punctuated by the combination of tan skin and pale blue fabric, Diana had no intention of letting Billy Hargrove know she was transfixed. “Someone has to take care of Max while you do… whatever it is you do.” He let out something in between a breath and a laugh, taking a step closer to her. She caught a whiff of him then. “God, Hargrove, cool it on the cologne. What did you do? Take a bath in it?”

“Thinking about me in the bath, huh?” Smugly, he ran his tongue over his teeth, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and extracting one. Lighter already in his hand, he held the cig between his lips, lighting it swiftly and tucking both packet and lighter away. How they fit in his jean pockets, Di had no idea.

Her reply came not a second after. “Yeah, drowning,” she scoffed. Apparently her feet were working of their own accord though because she found herself taking two steps closer to him. Blood rushed to her cheeks when a full, fiery smile worked its way over Billy’s face.

“Bathroom’s three doors down to the right if you need a cool down, Miller.” Maintaining eye contact, he took a long drag from the cigarette before pulling it from his lips and letting his head hang back as he exhaled. With a quirk of his eyebrow, he walked quickly out of the room, for a second hoping that his date might be wearing leggings too.

[messybrokenandalive]

Past 48ish hours

Wow. Let’s have story time.

Yesterday morning. I woke up wrapped up in the arms of the man I love. I woke up happy, having kisses and cuddles whilst he rolled around doing his crocky morning voice. It was so perfect. Actually, it was one of the only good things that happened that day. Anyway, I rolled out of bed and made my way home to get ready for a day of birthday celebrations and fun. If only it turned out that way. I went home, got ready and once Alex and Andrew showed up, we made our way to the town. (It took me all week to make alex agree to go and stay at my sisters birthday like she promised my sister she would do... alex has changed.)

Anyway. We got to town and met Rob (a friend of mine who is okay in small doses but makes me very uncomfortable). We got clothes and looked round shops. I went and bugged Tinkerbell at work. It was all good... well so said my fake smile. By this point the world was crashing down on me and putting its weight on my shoulders. I felt weak. Ryan was apparently after me, but I’m more intimidated by a leaf if I’m completely honest.

My better half and Tinkerbell both noticed that something wasn’t right. I guess others didn’t care enough to notice. The day went on and we hung around town. I had a mixed spliff and watched as the world went to a haze. The weight was gone. But I was emotional... and stoned... and... braking. As much as there is going on, I was dreading this party. A whole night of questions playing like a broken record and insults being stabbed in me like a knife. Alex, Andrew and Rob went into McDonalds to get some dinner... I still had any food stay in my system for 4 days, so I wasn’t even interested. Tinkerbell come to see me, and I broke. I kept trying to make a joke out my current life situation, but she could see every bit of pain I was feeling. I told her everything. She went home with my shit on her plate. That wasn’t fair. I shouldn’t have done that... but I have no control over myself at the moment. I’m just... floating.

Shortly after, everyone got in the cab and we was on our way to my biggest nightmare. Don’t get me wrong, I was so happy to see my family again after a long time, but the consequences of that were burning my fake smile down, no sweat. We arrived and all was well and good. I caught up with some people, thought alex was going to stay, (she left me, again. And without even saying goodbye too... she even didn’t tell she was leaving, dad told me. Thanks for hurting me that little bit more after I sat and begged you stay because the questions were starting and I couldn’t cope.) Anyway, I heard people talking about my man, I wish they were saying nicer things. I heard the children as were he was, and my sister explaining that they won’t be seeing him anymore. It genuinely felt like someone was ripping my heart out. My stomach felt empty, so I poured more and more vodka down my throat. I drank 3 bottles last night. Auntie Liz, who had one to many, told me that I was wrong for being with him. That he is a waste of space, and that he will bring me down. Told me I’ve become ‘a beautiful young woman, who could have the world’ but I didn’t have to balls to tell her that I got the world when I started calling him mine. Instead I just kept saying I know how it looks but let me make my own choices. She questioned me about money, and if I’ve been banned from anything yet. Oh, and if it was him messaging me. I wish it was him messaging me.

My sister in law has officially decided that I can’t see my nephew join the angels in the clouds next Thursday. Just because I can only afford £50 worth of the flowers, and what she wants is £80. Sorry, I’m not made of money. I hardly get any... I’m barely scraping by at this point. So my handsome little fidgit, will be sent off without me. I’m banned from saying goodbye.

Oh. And they tried to get me to eat. Not good. I was sick everywhere. I felt so bad. But at least I had the drink to blame it on, well I did until Andy (second dad) came and spoke to me. He always knew how to get things out of me, even though we never really see eye to eye. I told him that I’ve stopped eating. I’ll eat to make people happy, and then force myself to throw up. I told him that my ex is giving me shit, and Just the thought of him brings it all back. I’m fat. I’m ugly. I’m worthless. Not good enough. Cheap. Ergh.. I hate him. But Andy told me that if I like my body then why change it. He made me promise to try eating again, knowing that I can’t brake a promise for shit. I promised... with my fingers crossed. I am trying though. It just feels normal to destroy myself, yunno?

The night was bluffing after that. I don’t remember much. I felt so ill. I realised how low I’ve really gotten. As if the note wasn’t enough of a wake up call. I’m worse than 2014, I’m just better at hiding it now.

I woke up this morning, to a message saying, ‘Haylee has been taken into the care of her grandparents, and is asking for you to visit her one last time before she leaves’. Yep, you guessed it. She’s getting taken away. Katie didn’t even get to fight. Ffs. I hate this! Katie did nothing wrong.. the fucking sperm donor is in the fucking wrong. URGH.

I read a few things on tumblr this morning too. Anyway. This other girl was a broken 16 year old wanna be, who was desperate for MY gay best friend to be hers. That’s my Andrew bitch, and jails provide vegan food.

After we finally got rid of her, we went to Ciarans and spoke to him about the past week. At last we made a brake through. Well I think we did. Time to start moving forward with our lives and our future together. And incase you can’t tell, from what I wrote further up this post; I will not give up on him just because of my family. I never knew what falling in love felt like, until he come along and showed me.

I rumbled Home, and from there, it all just hit me. To add to it, my little boy had the biggest fit he has ever had. I’m pretty shaken. I’m now overthinking, laying here depressed and anxious. My boyfriend is getting stoned tonight so I’m paranoid too. I trust him, but I don’t trust my past as it has a habit of repeating itself. I’m trying not to cut rn too but I don’t think that will last... I’m sorry if I cut again, I don’t mean too.

I’m off to cry, try not to self harm (or worse) and continue to throw up my dinner.

Right... fuck of tumblr. I have a feeling you won’t be my friend tonight.

Goodbye.