#Phone calls are usually garbled but the rest is just like reality

[arlo-venn]

Now that marijuana is fully out of my system, the night terrors and getting trapped in nightmare loops for entire irl days at a time and the waking up kicking and screaming has returned! 🤠 And so far they’ve all been about the family that I am entirely estranged from for very good reasons 🤠 And my tics and waking seizures are making a come back! I’m having a lot of fun! 🤠

[benedictsvestcollection]

Ever Ever After- A Whiskey x reader Modern Cinderella fic

Rating: T for some swearing mostly!

Warnings: Ummmm.... Mentions of death, fluff, sweetness and stepmom being a bitch. 

Word count: 2.3K

A/N: Tomorrow is @absurdthirst‘s birthday so this chapter is dedicated to you my darling! Happy early birthday!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

As soon as Jack and Ginger were in the back of the towncar and away from prying eyes, Jack heaved a heavy sigh. “I do not like that woman.” He growled as Ginger began typing away an email to Champ. 

He hadn’t stopped thinking about the way Miranda had spoken to you, her own step-daughter. The entire day, he had witnessed you being treated with such disdain and rudeness. 

“Your dentist is going to hate you when they find out you’ve been grinding your teeth so much today.” Ginger teased him, spying the way Jack clenched his jaw so much. Mad on your behalf. A woman, he barely knew but already felt innately protective of. 

“Who the hell talks to their family like that?” He asked her. “She was nothing but sweet and hardworking all day and they just… Spoke to her like that.” 

“Terrible people. They’re terrible people Jack.” Ginger told him simply, knowing he had asked a rhetorical question. But answering him nonetheless. 

Jack sighed, knowing she was right. “Do we have anything on the daughters?” He asked her, changing the subject. 

Ginger shook her head. “As far as I can tell, they’re just spoiled bitches.” She muttered. “But not aware of what their mom is up to.” 

“Like mother, like daughters.” Jack muttered out with a huff. 

“You like her.” Ginger stated matter of factly. “And not just in a ‘what a sweet girl’, or ‘she’s part of the mission’ kind of way.” She teased him. 

He merely grunted in response and shifted in his seat, readjusting his suit jacket. Glaring at Ginger while she smirked from her phone. She was right and he hated that she was. 

“I like her too. Just maybe not in the same way you do.” She continued on, smirk still on her face.

“You done Ging?” He muttered at her grumpily. “We have work to do.” 

~~~~~~~~~

You sighed in contentment inhaling your french toast, bacon, eggs and coffee at your favorite diner. You had cleverly booked your stepmother and sisters for a spa weekend. But in reality, it had been for you. A peaceful weekend to yourself with no work to do. So now, you were treating yourself to brunch at your favorite New York diner. 

“Well, well, well… Isn’t this a welcome sight for sore eyes.” Came a southern drawl over you. Warm like bourbon and comforting like a worn in fall sweater. 

You looked up to see warm brown eyes and a mustache smirk looking down at you in your booth. 

“Oh… Hello Mr. Daniels.” You stammered out at him, suddenly even more relieved that your stepmom and sisters weren’t around, let alone didn’t hang out in your area or they’d accuse you of ruining things by simply talking to him. 

“Oh please darlin’. Call me Jack. Mr. Daniels makes me feel old.” He grinned at you and slid into the booth across from you and ordered a coffee.

“I um… This doesn’t seem like the kind of place you would come to.” You told him nervously. 

“Why? Because I’m the CEO of a distillery?” He teased you. “Darlin’ I was born in Kentucky and went to school in Texas. I’m a cowboy through and through. A diner don’t scare me.” 

You blushed. Why was he here? If word got back to your stepmom and sisters… You didn’t want to think about what they’d do. 

“I need to go.” 

Jack’s hand flashed out and gently took yours. “You have to work on a weekend?” He asked you worried, almost. Like he somehow knew that you worked too much or something. 

“No actually, I just… I don’t get weekends usually so I have stuff I wanted to get done is all.” You shrugged. It wasn’t a total lie, you did have things you wanted to do. Laundry, cleaning your apartment and grocery shopping. But mostly, you were afraid you were going to get caught with Jack Daniels and you didn’t need that drama in your life. You had enough with your family. 

Jack nodded at you. “I understand, can I at least walk you home?” He asked you as he stood with you.

“I-” You were cut off by your phone vibrating in your jeans pocket. “Son of a bitch… Sorry.” You muttered at him as you scowled at the screen. Seeing your stepmother’s name demanding you answer. 

“Yes?” You sighed as you reluctantly answered the phone. Trying to ignore the way Jack was staring at and studying you intently. 

“I need you to go upstate and buy pumpkins.” She responded on the other end of the phone. 

“Pumpkins? Why?” You asked her with a huff.

“Because it’s fall and I want the offices decorated.” You could practically hear her rolling her eyes at what she thought was a stupid question.

“Okay…” You sighed at her once more. “How many do you want me to get?” You asked her. 

“Fifty. I want the office completely decorated for the season.” She told you. “Oh also, maybe get some hay bales too.” 

“Fifty?!” You asked her, jaw dropping in shock. Where in the hell were you supposed to put them? Being New York, you didn’t even have a car. 

“Stop repeating everything I say and just get there and do it.” She snapped and hung up on you.

“Yes ma’am.” You muttered at your phone sarcastically and then tossed it into your purse aggressively. “Well now I do have to work Mr. Daniels.” You grumbled. 

“Kind of difficult to not overhear that conversation.” He admitted softly, almost like he felt sorry for you. “You okay?” He asked you gently. 

“Yeah, I’m great. I have to give up my Saturday, somehow get upstate. Buy fifty pumpkins in various sizes and some bales of hay and get them all back to the office.” You muttered. “Guess I’m renting a car for the day.” 

“Well, she’ll pay for that won’t she?” He asked you, deep down already knowing the answer but wanting to hear you confirm it. 

You snorted. “Yeah right. I practically run the company and I’m living in a shitty studio apartment.” 

Jack frowned at that. “Well then darlin’. I wouldn’t be a southern gentleman if I didn’t offer to help you. I’ve got my Bronco out front and the day off.” He rumbled in your ear. “And don’t you worry, they won’t find out you were helped.” He promised you as he led you outside to his truck. 

“Mr. Daniels I can’t… Ask you to do that.” You insisted as you chewed your bottom lip anxiously. 

“You didn’t ask. I offered. And please… Call me Jack.” He reminded you as he opened the passenger door for you. “Please, I want to help.” 

Honestly, the idea of spending any kind of time with this handsome and charming man was appealing. Plus, you really didn’t feel like spending any of your hard earned money on a rental for a day when you had a truck being offered to you. 

“Okay. Thank you… Jack.” You finally relented with a small, shy smile at him as you climbed up into the passenger seat of his truck. 

He released his gentle hold on your elbow and smiled at you. “You’re welcome darlin’.” He smiled at you as he moved to the driver’s side and started it up.

An hour later, Jack parked his truck in the gravel parking lot. 

“Damn, pumpkin patches sure have changed since I was a kid.” You muttered, taking in the expanse of acreage. An actual pumpkin patch, gift shop, a moonbounce, pony rides and a hay ride. 

Jack let out a whistle and casually tossed his arm over your shoulder. “You said it darlin’.” He agreed and led you to the patch. 

“Haven’t done this since I was a kid with my dad.” You murmured wistfully. 

Jack paused for a split second when you said that. “I’m so sorry.” He rubbed your arm gently. 

You shrugged. “It’s okay.” 

“How uh… How did he die?” He asked gently. 

You wiped a tear from your eye. “Got sick suddenly. Doctor’s couldn’t really explain it. First they thought it was the flu because I got sick too. But he uh… Didn’t make it.” 

“You both got the flu at the same time?” He asked you, brows furrowed in thought. 

“Wasn’t the flu. The only explanation the doctors had was food poisoning.” You mumbled as you both began wandering the patch together. 

“But he… Didn’t make it.” He finished the thought you were internalizing. 

“And I did.” You mused bitterly. 

“Hey now… I won’t have you thinkin’ that way. It ain’t your fault that you both got sick and you didn’t die. I, for one am glad you’re here.” 

Tears were falling down your cheeks now. “He was my best friend and now he’s just… Gone.” 

Quickly, Jack pulled you over to a set of hay bales and faced you. “Loss is never easy to deal with darlin’. But you don’t have to grieve alone.” He reassured you, thumbs gently rubbing the inside of your wrists. 

“You’ve met my stepmom and sisters… Right?” You asked him with a garbled laugh. 

“Look at you, makin’ jokes.” He grinned at you before he instinctively leaned forward to kiss your temple. 

You froze at the sweet gesture, surrounded by his overwhelming scent before you gave in and sank into his arms. For the first time in over a year, you felt safe with someone. Actually cared for. “Thank you… Jack.” You mumbled into his chest.

“Anytime darlin’.” He promised you. “Now… I do believe that we have pumpkins and hay bales to blow on, your stepmother’s money.” He teased you. 

You laughed again and nodded at him. “Yeah… Okay.” 

“Now, you dry your eyes. I’ll go get a wagon for all these pumpkins we have to buy.” 

You nodded and started to browse the pumpkins as Jack went to get a wagon to tote around. 

“Ginger, I need you to look into the medical records or her and her father. Somethin’s off here.” Jack said over the phone. 

“It is awfully convenient that they both got sick and in the hospital. While the father died.” She admitted on the other end of the phone. 

“Not to mention that the stepmom took control of the empire after he died and she was deathly ill in the hospital.” He growled out. 

“Easy there cowboy. Now that we’re here we’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again.” Ginger soothed him. “Now go back to your pumpkin date. I’ll look into this.” 

“Sorry about that darlin’. Was just informin’ Ginger that I wouldn’t be available the rest of the day.” He told you with a smile. 

“It’s okay.” You told him with a shy smile and placed two pumpkins in the wagon. 

The rest of the day proceeded with Jack dutifully toting the wagon around for you. Emptying it into his truck as it got full and they were paid. You bought hay bales, a scarecrow for the reception area and a bushel of apples. 

“You sure do love fall darlin’.” He teased you as you hopped into his truck and sighed. 

“I just... Figured since I was here, the apples are for baking and a couple of pumpkins for my place.” You blushed and shrugged.

It was after nine by the time Jack finally pulled back in front of your building. They had dropped off most of the supplies at the office. 

“Let me help you get this upstairs.” He insisted. “Otherwise you’re going to have to make two trips with this basket of apples and both your pumpkins.” 

“Jack I-” You started, not wanting him to do more for you than he already had. 

“Please… There’s somethin’ I feel like I need to tell you.” He explained to you gently. “Preferably upstairs and not on a New York street.” 

“Tell me… What?” You asked him anxiously. 

“It’s alright. Let’s just get upstairs.” He soothed you.

Nervously, you led the way into your small apartment and set your pumpkins down on your kitchen counter. “What… Uh… What’s going on?” You asked him.

Jack set the basket of apples down next to your pumpkins and placed his hand on your back. “Let’s sit down.” He suggested. 

“Jack I… What’s wrong?” You asked him, hands twisting together anxiously. 

“I’m not exactly the CEO of the Statesman distillery.” He told you simply, staring at you. 

“You’re… What?” You asked him, face scrunched up in confusion.

“Statesman is an independent intelligence agency and I work for them.” He explained to you. “I’m a spy.” 

“You’re a what?” You repeated to him. 

“I know this is difficult to absorb.” He explained to you. “I’m investigatin’ your stepmom’s dealin’ with the company.” 

“Oh so… You were spending time with me for a… Mission?” You asked him. 

“It started off like that, but… You’re very sweet and I’m lookin’ out for you.” He explained. “I’m tryin’ to help you. But I need your help too, if you’re willin’ to help me.” 

“Help you how?” You asked softly.

Jack moved closer to you. “I need someone inside the company, and you’re perfect.” 

You knew he meant for helping him but, him calling you perfect made you blush. “Perfect how?”

“Look, I don’t wanna pressure you into doin’ somethin’ without you thinkin’ or sleepin’ on it.” He explained softly, as he rubbed your wrists softly. “Why don’t you sleep on it and you call me tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, that might be best. I uh… Don’t want my family to find out about this.” You explained nervously. 

“I completely understand darlin’. You think on it, and let me know. Alright? No pressure, I promise.” 

You practically melted as he ran his knuckles gently along your cheekbone. You nodded at him and smiled shyly at him. “Okay.”

“Good night darlin’.” He murmured in your ear. 

“Good night Jack.” You returned as he finally departed your apartment and you considered his news and offer to you.

Tag list:

@absurdthirst, @spacegayofficial, @lilangeldevil006, @manda-but-not-lorian, @emmymarierivia, @din-djarin-protection-squad, @nope-itsnopi, @gothgirl1362-blog, @deafspaceperson, @auty-ren, @luminescentlily, @ahopelessromanticwritersworld, @babe-dont, @dreamgirl-6781-blog, @katialvi, @zoe-rachel-crisp, @cryptkeepersoul, @jaa1682-27, @katheriner1999, @promiscuoussatan, @paintballkid711, @marvelranger, @owljumper, @girlwithanewplan, @iellarenuodolorian, @lost-girl-inc, @f0rever15elf, @mrschiltoncat, @hillarymurray4, @seejayyou 

Sorry some of my tags aren’t fully working! XOXO

[starlightxsvt]

The Tale Of A Coffee Shop

Pairing: Joshua x Female reader

Genre: Fluff, slight crack, bad attempt at romance, this is just bad

Warnings: Slight cursing

Word count: Idk, it's pretty long

8:35 am.

He should be here anytime. Your palms sweat, foot taps excitedly against the floor of the cafe. Though there's a lack of mirror, you try to smooth your hair with your hands, unnaturally cautious about your appearance.

"Calm down. It's not like he's gonna propose you or shit."

You turn to face your coworker who has a less than amused expression on her face. "Am I that obvious?"

"Duh. It's like written all over your face. Chill already y/n, he's just a man passing by. You don't even know his last name."

Your hopes shrink slightly though you are surprised at yourself. What are you actually hoping for? Him to ask you out? Your coworker is right, he's just a man passing by. Except, he's  regular customer who's insatiably handsome and makes you all jittery.

The said male is Joshua, an English professor at the popular university near the cafe. That's all you know about him. He happened to pass by your workplace one spring morning, looking for a quick jolt of caffeine to start the day and he's been visiting ever since. He visits the cafe 3 days a week, around 8:30 in the morning, ordering his usual plain latte.

After the first couple visits, you made small talk with him and all he offered was his name and profession. He always seemed to in a hurry or busy but he was always polite.

And the most handsome man you have ever seen. He had luscious black locks which were  somehow messy yet neatly arranged and touched the nape of his neck. His eyes always seemed to sparkle, hiding a galaxy of their own. High cheekbones, a perfect jawline, plump lips and to complete it all,an adams apple - he had it all.

His outfits were always neat and perfect, sometimes a trench coat covering a turtle neck, sometimes an unbuttoned blazer over a plain tee and of course, a wrist watch. Sometimes he'd wear glasses, big metal frames covering those eyes and those days you'd melt into a puddle on the inside. He looked so damn hot.

The bell at the door of the cafe chimes and your ears perk up, eyes moving to that direction.

He's here.

You try your best not to look like a love struck fool and offer a professional smile. "Welcome, sir."

"Hello, y/n. My usual please." comes his smooth voice and a polite smile.

"Yes sir, coming right up." You mutter, trying not pass out from the way he said your name while putting in his order.

He waits at the corner tapping away on his phone while his latte is prepared. Once it's done, you call his serial number, offering him his drink. "Your latte, sir."

"I've told you before, Joshua is fine."

You stare at him for a bit too long not understanding that he asked you to call him by his name. However, when you realize that, you are a blushing mess, unsure what to reply.

Joshua doesn't say anymore, only offers you a kind smile. And just like that, he's out the door, leaving you feeling warm all over.

"That was the most cringy thing I ever saw." Your co worker's voice brings you to reality. You roll your eyes and continue your work with a smile in your face.

✧

"You seriously need to stop thinking about that dude all the time." You friend says standing in front of you, crossing her arms.

"I do not think of him all the time." You say, ignoring her and squinting at the book in your hands.

"Then great. You are coming to the club with me tonight. I'll introduce you to some guys and I don't know... get you laid."

"Excuse me?"

"Okay okay, not get laid, just... Meet some guys you know, what's the harm in that? Do you wanna die virgin?"

"I-"

"Don't." She holds up her hands signaling you to stop. "You are coming. It's final. Thank me later when you find a hot dude."

✧

Hot dude my ass. You stare at the drink you got after getting away from your friends who were having too much fun getting drunk. You had almost zero alcohol tolerance and you knew that you had to stay sober to get them home safely.

As you had expected, none of the guys your friend introduced you to piqued your interest. You realized what a bad idea it was to come to the club rather than staying at home, curled up reading your favorite book. As the thrum of the music continued to blast through the club your thought only proved to be truer. But your friends wasn't leaving this place anything soon.

Damn you hated it here.

You realize someone sitting down on the barstool next to yours but don't look up, too busy tracing the edge of the glass in front of you with your fingers. It's until you move your head to take a swing of your drink that you take notice of the person beside you.

A small squeak leaves your mouth as you look at the man sitting beside you, thinking that the couple drinks you had got to you and started playing with your mind.

It was him. Joshua. The English professor.

You quickly cast your eyes back on your drink but then glance a peek at his direction just to make sure.

Of course it's him.

Joshua sits there, oblivious to his surroundings, eyes on his phone. Your heart races. What is he doing here? Did he notice you?

You swallow, trying to calm your beating heart. Why do I feel like this? Maybe he didn't even notice me, I'll just finish this drink and leave.

You take another tentative glance at him, who is still busy on his phone. His hair looks a little bit messier than usual and his face looks a bit tired. He has his jacket draped across his lap and the white tee shirt he's wearing gives you a nice view of his arms. You don't realize you are staring unabashedly until he speaks, "Penny for your thoughts?"

A squeak leaves you and you almost fall off the stool.

"You've staring for quite a while. What is on your mind?" he says, putting down his phone and turning towards you.

You let your head hang low as a wave of embarrassment washes over you. "I'm sorry," you whisper.

"No don't be. Funny meeting you here though."

You look up to meet his eyes and it feels like your heart has traveled to your throat as you try to come up with a reply. "Y-yeah."

"You don't seem to be enjoying yourself."

"I-... Yes, I'm not."

He chuckles softly and reaches for his drink as the bartender places it front of him.

"What brings you here?"

"Well, um, my friend wanted to introduce me to some guys so she dragged me here with her and none of the guys piqued my interest and I didn't like sitting with them so I'm here."

You really need to stop talking.

Another soft chuckle escapes him and he asks, "What kind of guys pique your interest then?"

You. You do.

"I... I'm not really thinking about dating right now, I'll graduate next month and I want to focus on finishing college and getting a good job." 

"I see. What is your major?" he asks.

And that leads to a rather long conversation between you and him,which you obviously didn't mind, about your major -literature- and what inspired you to study that and so on. Since the both of you studied the same subject you had a lot of common grounds to talk about.The conversation went on and you felt happier than ever. You really needed to thank your friend for dragging you here.

And just when you think that, you hear her voice, "Y/n!"

Oh shit.

She appears behind you, a drunk mess and rests her head on your shoulder garbling drunk nonsense. You realized it was time to go before she embarrassed both of you in front of Joshua. You stand up abruptly and give an awkward nod to Joshua to looks at the two of you with an amused expression.

As you drag your friends to their car, there's a tinge of disappointment that you couldn't be with him longer but also an excitement that fate had given you such a chance.

✧

Couple days later Joshua arrives earlier than his usual time at the cafe. You were clearing orders for the first few customers and when you look up hearing his voice, you swear you can die right there happily.

He wasn't in his usual look, rather a black shirt and a black shiny blazer hanging on his arm that matches his pants. His hair was neatly back brushed to one side but some locks managed to escape and you smell a hint of his cologne. You stared at him shamelessly, cheeks flushed.

"Y/n. Y/n?"

"Y-yes?"

"My usual, please."

"Oh, yes... of course."

You fumble, putting in his order and peeking glances at his direction. You knew you were acting like a deprived, shameless woman but you could care less. You don't know if he realized you were checking him out but even if he did, he didn't say anything.

As you hand him his order, he murmurs a thank you and asks, "When do you close?"

"Huh?"

"This cafe. When do you close it?"

"Oh, um, we take customers until about 10 pm. Then we clean up."

"I see. Thank you."

He turns around and leaves, a few heads turning towards him as he does so. You stand there, confused as to why he'd ask that.

"That was a goddamn piece of snack right there. " your co worker chirps as Joshua leaves the cafe.

"Seriously?" You raise a brow at her.

"It's fucking true. I mean look at him. He has heads turning around as he walks by."

You couldn't argue with that.

✧

It's almost 10:30 in the night and you are having quite a trouble cleaning up. It's the weekend night and there were more customers than usual, which was the thing you hated about working full-time during the weekends though the payment was good. You wipe the counter, sighing, your back muscles tired from a long day.

The bell at the door rings, slightly irritating you.

Service is over damn it.

The last person you expect, walks through the door. Your mouth hangs open and a small gasp leaves your co worker's mouth as you both stare at the person. It's Joshua.

"I'm sorry, sir, we're closed." You manage the words out.

"Could I maybe,  have a word with you?" He asks, ignoring what you said.

"Uh-um, sure. I- I just have some things to finish up." You stammer, your heart beating way too fast to your liking.

"Good. You don't mind if I sit, do you?"

"N-no, of course not."

You turn to face your co worker who stares at you with wide eyes.

"What the fuck is going on?" She whisper-yells.

"I have no idea!" You reply back.

You finish your work quickly, your heart hammering the whole time. Once you both are finished, your co worker starts to dress up, ready for home. She gives you a good lecture to lock up properly before taking off.

You stand behind the counter trying to even out  your breathes, eyeing Joshua who sits at the table by the window.

You swallow and free your hair from the ponytail, smooth it down and walk over to him.

"H-hey."

"Oh, hey." He looks up at you gesturing you to sit. You take a seat in front of him on the couch. He doesn't say anything but looks at you with a subtle smile.

"You look different," you blurt out, indicating his look.

"Oh yes, I had a meeting at the university."

"On the weekend?"

"Apparently, yes."

"So, uhm, why are you here?" You fidget rubbing your hands together, feeling nervous.

"I wanted to see you." He replies casually.

You almost choke on air.

"Last time we didn't get to finish our conversation and you seemed like an interesting person."

You flush, almost not believing your own years.

Joshua runs his hand through his hair then rests his hand under his chin, looking directly at you.

"I'll be honest with you, you've been on my mind a lot lately, Y/n."

You stare at him, mouth hanging open.

Did he just really say that?

A soft sound comes from outside and you both turn your heads to see it has started to rain outside.

"I want to date you, Y/n."

Holy-

You gasp and a nervous laughter escapes you. "I, um, I- uh..." You don't know what you are trying to say.

He laughs softly, "I know you have a thing for me. Your stares aren't that secretive, you know."

You blush furiously, looking down at your lap, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's cute." He laughs.

You meet his eyes, trying to find out words to say.

"So what do you say?"

"I... mean, we barely know each other... "

"Isn't that why people date?"

"Yea, right."

"Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"No!" You gasp out, afraid that he'll leave. "I just, I don't know what to say."

Joshua offers you a  kind smile and to your surprise he stands up and sits beside you. He softly strokes your hair, his eyes on yours.

"I mean it, I want to date you."

You stare at his eyes, transfixed. The sparkles in his eyes, the fact that he was so close to you made your brain fizzy and heart skip beats.

He softly leans down, his eyes on your lips, "May I?"

Oh my god.

You nod without a delay and he captures your lips in a kiss. He tilts your neck gently cupping behind your ear. Your hands find purchase on the lapels of his jacket as you let him kiss you.

When you pull back, you feel like you are burning from embarrassment. The night is silent other than the sound of rain outside and you are scared that he can hear your heart beat.

"Did I convince you?" He asks tilting your head upwards.

"Yes." You whisper, feeling your insides warm up.

And without thinking much, you grasp his jacket and pull him in for another kiss. You can feel him smile against your lips and it only urges you to go on.

As the night proceeds you rest your head on his shoulder, intertwine your hands with his and watch the rain outside. You felt slightly overwhelmed with joy as you talked with Joshua about anything, your heart skipping beats every now and then. Maybe this is what it felt like to be in love.

You look at his face taking in the details as he softly talks about his favourite novels and such. You only hope you can look at his face and feel his warmth in the coming days.

A/N: Hello everyone, this is my first tumblr fiction so I'm sorry if it wasn't so good. I hope you continue to support my blog. Your comments are really appreciated! >< 💕

[allie1804-fan]

Kerensa Part 2

This is a continuation of Kerensa which you can find here:

Kerensa (Part 1)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5 , Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13

Chapter 1

Settling down

On their return to Sennen, they decided to stay until the end of October which would give Kerry time to make plans for the cottage. Then they would return, either at Christmas or New Years, to see her sister and her family.

Day to day, life living together was comfortable - they each found the other easy to live with and she was relieved to find that he was a tidy person and didn’t expect her to do all the heavy lifting on domestic tasks which had been a bone of contention with her ex. She did do most of the cooking though as that wasn’t his forte, however he had taught himself a little during his time in lockdown and also in Cornwall given you can’t eat out so easily there as in LA. His forte was definitely sandwiches for lunchtimes - he could wax lyrical about sandwich choices and creation and he could rustle up a couple of pasta dishes his sister had taught him as well as cook a mean steak.

They had a chat about pet peeves to try and head off issues, from the possibly trivial (like no coming in for a pee while I’m in the bath (they had 2 toilets in the house after all) to getting a cleaner and then more fundamental issues like phone privacy, honesty, not sleeping on an argument and so on.

After a couple of weeks, she commented that living together felt good and easy and she admitted how nervous she’d been, after Tresco, that they would be brought back to reality with a bump with the day to day of living together. He warned her it might not be so great when he’s filming.

“I can get a bit obsessive, reclusive. You’ll have to call me on it if I neglect you but I will try not to turn in on myself. But I also used to take on projects more I think to fill my life, I feel now I should get even more picky, now that there’s something, well someone else worth spending time on!”

Kerry had already given up waitressing due to the writing needing more time, so they often split their time between Cornwall and London where he could take meetings and do PR or press if needed while there and she would see her agent and publisher. They established a rhythm of 4 days working and 3 off for leisure and trips back in Cornwall or elsewhere. She took him to Lords to see a cricket test match, laughing as she tried to explain the intricacies of the game. Being a sports guy, he enjoyed it despite the occasional confusion at what was going on!

Another trip was to Oxford, where he’d discovered she studied at university. Their early lives had never come up in conversation til one evening they were watching an old episode of “Inspector Morse” which she said she loved.

“Reminds me of student days”

“Huh? You studied …… there?”

“Yup” she grinned at his amazement. “Don’t you think I’m clever enough?!” her eyes sparkled with mischief.

“No, god, no I mean yes!” he garbled “it’s not that, it’s just wouldn’t that be, you know like one of your highlights you drop in, you know, to impress!”

She giggled.

“Well I guess it wasn’t like that with us was it? Neither of us was trying to impress, and educational or other achievements never came up otherwise you’d have been telling me about all the A list directors who’ve chased you to work with them or how many millions you’ve made or how you were the internet’s boyfriend!”

“Stop, stop, ok, you know all that stuff?”

She nodded yes. “You only have to read one or two decent articles to get all that info you know!”

“OK but anyway back to you, so wow, Oxford!”

She told him how she’d studied English at St Catherine’s, one of the modern colleges (well, one that was built in the 1960s not the 1560’s!) and it favoured a more state school intake than the likes of Christchurch or Magdalen where old Etonians gravitated.

“But I still got to go to tutorials in the dreaming spires parts so it was a wonderful experience. We should go, on the way back from London next week. I’ll give you the tour.”

They fitted in a visit, staying at the Randolph Hotel as a treat for Kerry. She explained to him that it was always there that the well-to-do murderers in Morse episodes had stayed and it was totally central in the city too. He donned a beanie and shades to try and keep a little anonymity as they strolled around the city and she used her alumni card to get free access to some of the splendid college gardens.

There was some publicity while they were there due to fans spotting him in a pub where he’d taken his beanie and sunglasses off while they sat to eat. A small crowd had gathered as they’d left and at first it was fine, just taking selfies but when Kerry got jostled by an overzealous fan, Keanu nearly lost it, starting to drag her away but she stopped him.

“Look, don’t punish the nice guys for that one idiot. Leave her out but I’ll just go sit out of the way for a sec while you do your thing”

“You sure?” She nodded and he went back to the gathered fans, taking selfies for about 15 minutes. The rude fan stalked off when he pointedly ignored her.

“Phew that was a bit intense,” she said afterwards. It’s like news of your presence spread like wildfire!”

“Yeah took me a little off guard too. I mean usually, it only happens in airports or hotels when people get wind you are there due to an event, not so much day to day, at least not a crowd like that. Look try not to worry.” he reassured. Fortunately, the rest of their stay there passed without incident.

He’d already told Cheryl that he and Kerry were now an item and warned Kerry that at some point there might be pictures in the press and some intrusion. After that incident, she also talked to her literary agent and publishers - they were pleased, only saying the attention could be positive for her book but she hoped it wouldn’t distract or appear like she was using him. After all, she’d been pursuing her writing long before she even met him.

Before they left the UK, they made a visit to see her sister and her partner and kids. Kerry loved to see how well he got on with her brother-in-law and niece and nephew and how readily they just accepted him as her partner. But her sister couldn’t help but be worried about her younger sibling. In a quiet moment in the kitchen over breakfast, she said

“I can see he loves you, god those puppy dog eyes gazing at you last night - how do you get anything done?! But I do worry about you going away to America for long spells. Won’t you be horribly isolated, lonely even?”

“I’ll be fine” she reassured “I’ll still have my writing to do and Scout, and we have each other. It will take some getting used to, sure, but it’s just a change of location really. It’s not like I see my friends that often anyway in person. Cornwall might as well be LA if you think about how unwilling most people have been to visit me since I moved!”

@fortheloveoffanfic @kindainlovewithkeanu @omg-imagine @keanureevesisbae @penwieldingdreamer @paperplanesandwallflowers @witty-wallflower @karlee1225 @bitchyslut99 @toomanystoriessolittletime @ladyreapermc @kissmyromanticquote @tacticalchics @utterlynuts @kylosbitch @thebigbubowski @thelightnessofthebeing @donakamark @gatsbynouvel @keanuficfiles @fanficsrusz @jardaniswife @cheezbort @mazzylana97 @maggiemoo1892 @girlfriday007 @siriussnape07 @yomnaislame @soarocks @fadingkideclipseempath @franny-banks-world @keanulowe @babylovejongin @lucky134ever @jasmindaughteroftheworld @tomorrowsanotherday @fokinqueen @littlefreya @leftyreea @wheretheriversrunintothesea @iworshipkeanureeves ' @ficsnroses @fickenstein @popacherryvisitalibrary @aah8903 @thethirstyarchive @cynic-spirit @australianpsychos @meetmeinthematinee@fics-not-tragedies

[tsukoyomi-fumikage]

Sick (ShouToko)

Shoji X Tokoyami

Excited screeching - I loved writing this one, ngl

Prompt - Tokoyami goes to Shoji in the middle of the night feeling sick - It looks much worse than any simple sickness though; Cue Concerned!Shoji

.

Shoji awoke to a hand on his blanket, clenching at it, shaking violently. Immediately, he thought the worst, eyes flying open and arms automatically grabbing the person next to him, throwing them back onto the floor full-force. There wasn't any fight, the small body landing with a harsh thump, no movement coming from them. Mezo fought to wake up more, to understand what was happening - was this a dream? No, no dream of his ever felt this real. Then why was someone in his room?

"O-ow..."

Mezo knew that voice. His eyes widened and his heart ached at the immense guilt that flooded through it, like a tidal wave crashing into a building, demolishing everything. His throat tightened, now suddenly dry as he stammered his boyfriend's name out; "T-Tokoyami?"

"I... I didn't mean to scare you..." Fumikage's voice was choked, raw from crying himself - Shoji remembered the hand, how it had been trembling, and wondered how he could've been so stupid. "I just... hmmnn."

That didn't sound good - the smaller teenager's voice was cut off from a whimper of pain, which didn't sound like any noise the student had ever made before, concerning Shoji instantly.

Fighting out of his duvet, he made his way over to the shadowy lump on the floor, kneeling down towards him, hoping his non-masked face wasn't creepy at all to his already scared lover. "What did you hit? Where does it hurt?"

"No, I-" The more Tokoyami came into view, the more Mezo realized he was clutching at his chest and head, doubled over from whatever agony he was experiencing. His mouth clenched tightly in pain at just watching him. "I'm... I don't feel well..."

Well, now Shoji felt like a professional asshole.

"Sick?" He hesitantly reached a hand to feel at his head, pushing back at his feathers, which were puffed up from distress. Quills and all, he could still feel the burning fever under his sensitive palm, and he frowned. "Yes, it appears you are."

Fumikage leaned into his touch, shaking, eyes squeezed shut. Shoji knew he needed to do something - anything - to make him feel better. "I think we need to go to someone who can help." As much as Mezo wanted to just hold his boyfriend in his arms, he knew it wouldn't help him in reality. "Iida? Or should we go to Aizawa-Sensei?"

There wasn't a response.

"Tokoyami?"

"I... dunno..." His voice was slowly becoming more slurred; words mixing together and his usual, well thought out sentences were quickly being reduced to garbled, uttered messages.

"Okay, alright.." Mezo steadied himself into a better position, easily wrapping his mutant-arms around Fumikage, lifting him like he weighed a pillow, surrounding him with protection and warmth, although unsure if the latter was good for someone with a fever. Fumikage's head flopped uselessly against his chest, spurring his usual protective instincts. This was bad, really bad. "Uhm, Aizawa then? I'm really worried, Fumi'."

Now he knew he wasn't going to get a response - the only reassurance that he was still with him was the quiet puffed out breaths, light and uneven. What sickness did this to a person? Mezo realized he really didn't want to find out.

Standing up shakily, the nerves hitting him, he grabbed one of his masks and made his way to the door, thankful he was a minimalist, therefore not having to dodge any unwanted items laying on the ground, like tables and stools. Thinking back to the task at hand, Mezo realized Tokoyami's body was completely limp now, and he clutched tighter in fear, twisting the doorknob and letting them both out, being careful to close the door quietly behind him.

Shoji had never been to his homeroom teachers room before, but luckily, he knew where it was - the very top floor. Being quiet while being a large six-tentacled teenager may sound difficult, but Mezo easily glided through the corridors and up the stairs, past his classmates rooms until finally, he made it. One of Tokoyami's eyes opened, the single movement gaining his attention - at least he was awake now, that was good, right?

He knocked on the door, albeit a bit too frantic for his liking; his nerves were so shot that even he was shaking, or maybe Fumikage's tremors had leaked into his body. Mezo wasn't quite sure at this point. Morphing a spare hand, he pressed it against his boyfriend's feathered cheek, feeling his breath on his hand, ghosting over it gently. It was so... unrealistic. God, what was happening?

The door creaked open slightly, the slit in the frame giving way to a tired-looking man, raven hair tied up in a loose bun, one black, exhausted eye staring back at him. "Shoji?" Clearly Aizawa hadn't noticed the trembling ball in his grasp. "Oh, wait." The door opened a bit more so the teacher could see better, now with both of his eyes. "Tokoyami?"

"He's.. sick?" Shoji felt put on the spot here - he really wanted help, but he didn't know how to explain how he'd even found Fumikage to begin with, much less what was happening to him. "He woke me up, and he, he was all slurred and shaking. I didn't know what to do."

Shota nodded, eyes narrowing. "On any normal circumstance I would say just let him sleep it off, but nothing about this looks normal." Now the door was fully open, and the teacher stood off to the side. "Come in, place him on the couch."

The student felt a tiny bit awkward walking into his teacher's flat, however he knew it would only be beneficial to his boyfriend. He stroked at his face affectionately when Aizawa jogged off to grab something. "It's going to be alright, Fumi'. Okay?"

Crimson eyes, glazed over with sickness, looked into his black ones, and the bird-teen's beak curled up into a smile, something that was both relieving and concerning. "I... trust you."

As per the teacher's instructions, he placed him down onto the sofa, kneeling besides him, arm protectively lay over his chest, covering most of his body from the world. Aizawa walked back in a few seconds later, carrying his phone, a glass with a straw, a thermometer and what appeared to be a hot-water bottle. Placing all of the items down on the coffee table, he picked up the thermometer, handing it to Mezo. "Check his temperature - Although it was probably easy to tell he had a fever from you holding him, I need to know how high it is."

The tentacle hero nodded, taking the item in his right hand, transferring it over to his left to free up his right arm to life Tokoyami's head up. Again, those sluggish crimson eyes opened at stared right into his soul. "Can you open your mouth?"

Silently, the bird-teen complied, and Mezo put the instrument into his mouth, waiting for the usual beep. When it did, he took a quick glance at the number: forty degrees Celsius (104F). Not great, but not the worst thing Shoji had witnessed today. Aizawa read over the number, sighing, handing the glass to the student. "Now get him to drink while I call the school - he's going to have to get tomorrow off."

"Shouldn't you wait until they are awake?" Mezo wasn't normally the one to talk back, but he felt the need to know. Having Shota Aizawa, this usually aloof and depressed man actually express urgency wasn't doing him much good. "Is it that bad?" Shoji didn't know shit about fevers and sickness, and heck, if mutant-bird-students fevers were even like the average sickness.

"It's not bad, don't worry, he just needs a lot of rest and maybe some medication." Shoji nodded shakily, lifting his boyfriend up even further to allow him to drink from the straw. "Someone'll have to keep an eye on him."

"I don't mind, Aizawa-Sensei."

The Erasure hero chuckled. "I didn't think you would."

...

By the time Tokoyami became more aware of his surroundings, he noticed he was curled into Shoji's gigantic arms, and appeared to be in his boyfriend's room, light just barely flooding through curtains, symbolizing how early it must've been. He felt as if he hadn't slept in years.

"Are you awake?"

The sick student flinched at the sudden words, eyes moving upwards to find his boyfriend - of course it was him, why was he so stupid? "I... think so?" He spoke before he even got the chance to think about it; If this was supposed to be his mind trying to make a joke, it wasn't exactly funny. "What.. happened?"

"You woke me up around three hours ago, all shaky and sick, and turns out you have a bug, but it'll run its course in a few days, hopefully - or so, Aizawa-Sensei said."

He thumped his head against the pillow in an attempt to not look as embarrassed as he felt. "Okay.. Then why am I in here?"

"Aizawa said someone needed to stay with out, and I didn't think you were one to appreciate our teacher making sure you aren't dying."

Tokoyami leaned forward, burrowing his face into Mezo's shirt. "I owe you one..."

"You don't owe me anything, Fumi'." A morphed mouth pressed a kiss onto his feathered head, and Tokoyami couldn't help but smile at the affection. "I just wish for you to get better."

[wykart]

The Prodigal Daughter

Summary: The Doctor has some unfinished business on Gallifrey. She has a purpose, and the Time Lords intend for her to fulfil it. (read on ao3)

a.k.a. local girl has a crush on the 13th Doctor, a love of cosmic/psychological horror, and a fascination with the whole Doctor = The Other thing from the wilderness years novels.

Prologue

It begins as a low hum, something like background noise, something that might have always been there – so stop worrying about it. But it tugs at her with every pulse, every drawn, minute oscillation drawing its grip tighter. A calling. Come home. Soon it’s an insect against her ear. Shrill, sharp buzzing. Phantom breaths upon her neck, phantom eyes burning holes into her back. Hands reaching across the universe. 

…

 It started when she picked up the phone, housed in the compartment outside the TARDIS. It’s always a gamble, answering that phone. She doesn’t give her number out to just anybody. It could be a threat, a cry for help, an old acquaintance. This time, it was all three.

 She dropped the phone before the receiver reached her ear, swiping her hand back as if it were burned. It swung, black cord dangling, the thrum of noise from the speaker vibrating against blue wood. A pendulum, hypnotising. A captured, closely held moment of shuddering breaths, slowing hearts. She jammed the phone down and cut the call short. Too late. The words were already tattooed behind her eyes; circular spirals folding in upon her vision. She fet time press in against her like a vice.

…

 The buzz of the mobile resting on her desk seems to shake the entire room. So much for silent. Yasmin leverages herself up onto her elbows and blinks away the bleary dark, reaching a languid arm over to the phone still juddering on the plastic-painted-wood surface. Who could be calling her at this time of night, which – the digital red of her alarm clock tells her – is 1am. She’s not on call duty tonight, which has awoken her on some occasions. Usually someone sleeping rough somewhere they shouldn’t, a group of drunken teenagers, a party running too late and too loud into the night. She doesn’t exactly have any friends apart from Ryan, Graham, and the Doctor. Ryan’s got better friends to call, Graham sleeps more than any person she’s ever met, and the Doctor, well – the Doctor doesn’t call. No, the Doctor materialises in the middle of Yaz’ bedroom and starts raving about an alien marketplace that has the most extensive range of biscuits in the universe. And then makes Yaz late for work.

 Yaz taps the phone screen awake and squints at the familiar too-bright blueish light. She goes to examine the number, only, there is no number. She figures it’s some new UI update – did it even show the number before? No one can be sure of such things at this time of day, one foot still dipped into unconsciousness. She taps the green call icon and unleashes a wall of faint garbled static. Apprehensively, she presses the speaker up to her ear, rolling herself up onto her hips, back cold and bent against the headboard. The static continues, with spikes in the signal like bones pressing up under the skin. They sound like that, too – like bright bruises and the sharp flash of colour in your eye that accompanies pain. It sets her mind racing towards something that she’ll never reach. Her thoughts run on a hamster wheel, speeding up, unravelling. She can’t stop listening. The pulses become voices, warping themselves, ungainly, into some semblance of human form.

 “Hello?” she chokes. It sounds like the start of a horror movie (Hello? Hello, is there anyone there?)

 “Lord President –“ it wavers – an amalgam of voices converging to one, like it’s trying to get the sound right. “Lord President, your presence is required on homeworld.” A flash of static stabs at Yaz’s eardrum.

 “Who is this?” she says, a little louder, clearer.

 “Comply,” it echoes, warped. “Or we will be forced to –“ it stutters out into drilling noise, droning into silence.

 “Hello?” she mumbles. Finally, feebly. (Hello? Hello, is there anyone there?). The screen goes dark against the side of her face, and the sudden lack of light makes her start. Her phone is drained, completely.

 Her first thought is aliens – which, as a self-proclaimed practical sort of person, is an idea that would have made the Yaz of a few months ago balk. She would call the Doctor, except she’d never given them her number. There was never danger here in Sheffield – discounting the killer  tooth fairy and the giant spiders, which may seem like quite a lot to discount to anyone else – the danger was always out there, out in the wide universe where they sought it out. The Doctor dropped by on the weekend (barring a few exceptions), took them out for an adventure or two, and dropped them back into the middle of mundanity. Two lives. They weren’t supposed to intersect.

 Yaz half expects to hear the grating wheeze of the TARDIS materialising in the room, for the Doctor to jump out and grab her by the shoulders, exclaiming with an almost inappropriate amount of glee that there are aliens attacking the telephone network or something. That would be a more exciting outcome. Instead – as her conscious mind begins to shed the sheer terror of those noises, the not-voices, burying what it cannot comprehend – she is beginning to settle with the idea that it was just a prank call.

 Regardless, she sleeps fitfully.

 …

 Ryan hears it in the pub. The night is still young, but he can already feel a premonition of the headache he’ll be swimming in during his shift at the warehouse tomorrow. With any luck, he’ll be able to catch a few winks afterwards before the Doctor drops by. It would be very unwise to climb aboard the TARDIS with an aching head and a lack of sleep.

 His mate Ian is buying the next round. The rest of the crowd are shoved into a booth in the back corner surrounded by tall glasses in various stages of emptiness (or fullness, as his Nan would’ve said, because a little optimism never hurt anyone - he thinks the Doctor would say that too). There’s a small flat-screen TV mounted on the wood-slatted cornice, a rerun of an old footy match. The commentator’s voice and the crowings of the crowd waver dully in the background, an echo of the past. He finds his heartbeat quickening when the players draw closer to either goal, letting out stifled noises of indignation at a nasty tackle, an obvious foul. The game has already happened, of course. He could look up the teams on his phone right now and find out the final score, every detail of the game, in fact. The notion never mattered to him before, but having access to a time machine tends to have an impact on perspective. He could be there in the crowd right now. Then, he would always have been in that crowd, despite the fact that whenever it was actually played he was here in Sheffield doing something entirely different.

He has a habit of doing this, thinking in circles. It isn’t doing him any favours for his NVQ. Travelling with the Doctor feels a bit like living in circles.

 He takes a gulp of beer, feeling the foam slide up his lip. He swallows it quick, and the fizzing stops him wanting to think about temporal anomalies at all. That’s when the TV shuts off. A few half-hearted cries of indignation. It was just a rerun, after all.

 An explosion of pixels bursts across the screen, scattering crackling static – and not the usual kind. It seems to push itself from the screen, to undulate in waves with just a hinted sheen of colour. The once-muted stereo sound is suddenly very loud, and, about ten blocks away, Yasmin Khan answers a call.

 “Lord President–“ the static spews the words in a garbled mess that only seems to knit itself back together after the fact, as if reality is trying to make sense of itself, to reorder things. He definitely isn’t drunk enough for this. He doesn’t think that anyone’s ever been drunk enough for this. “Lord President, your presence is required –“ He looks around at his mates, tearing his eyes away from the cacophonic display with a morbid sort of difficulty. They’re still talking, laughing, drinking.

 “You okay Ryan?”

 “take desperate action.” the static spikes, and the clangour of it sounds like his feet on the rungs of a ladder, and the ringing sound through hollow metal as you slip…

 “Hey, mate, you feelin’ alright?” He can’t tell which face it’s coming from. He can’t even tell them apart. Dollops of clay, murmurs of a strange language lost in the noise.

  “Your weakness is known. It will be exploited.“ He feels his eyes cross and his joints wobble. If he was standing, he would have crumpled to the floor. Instead, he feels a sharp pang as his head hits the table, and cold creep across his neck where his drink has sloshed over.

 He jerks up with a start. Someone is holding his shoulder steady. He looks up, and the TV is blank.

 “Are you gonna pass out of something? You’ve only had a few drinks.” It says. He can’t quite recall the names.

 “Nah, m’alright.” Ryan grumbles, holding a hand against his temple. “Just had a long day or something.”

 “We were gonna go down the park, it’ll do you some good mate. Fresh air, you know.” Another one speaking now. 

 “Yeah.” Anything to get him out of this pub, away from… something alien, probably. Only no one else had seen it, and that was never a good sign, especially when he had a few drinks in him already. Maybe he had just had a long day. Excuses are easy to spin, and the colours are already slipping from his mind. Washed away. Only a stain left behind.

 Next up, drunken loitering. Yaz would be furious.

 …

 Graham doesn’t hear anything at all. He’s a heavy sleeper, and he likes to savour every second of it thank you very much.

 “If I’m gonna be larkin’ about on some alien world,” he’d defended, when Ryan had chuckled at his perfectly respectable bed time of 8pm, “I’m gonna need ten hours at least. It’s all very well for you to run off four hours and a couple cans of those energy drinks – which, by the way, your Nan’d have a fit if she seen you drinkin’ – but I need my shut-eye.” And it’s better than sittin’ like we used to, he’d thought. In front of the telly or reading in those big armchairs that seemed to envelop your whole body. Because he’d look up with a grin on his face and a lark on his lips, and she wouldn’t be there. At least in the dark he could almost pretend. Sometimes he could almost feel her breath on his back.

 When Graham O’Brien gets a call at thirteen o’clock, he doesn’t answer. It rings out in the kitchen while he sleeps on. But he dreams of a woman wrapped in knitted shawls and a warm, wide smile. And she’s telling him that the president is coming home.

[quickspinner]

Hey Gorgeous 7

Part 1| Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 (end) | Bonus Scene 

Sequel: Hey Gorgeous: Under Your Skin

Now on AO3

The order hadn’t come. Luka frowned. His shift was almost up, it was nearly an hour past when Marinette usually ordered. Had he heard her wrong? Depressed and trying not to be, he went through the close out process, barely aware of what he was doing. 

“One more order,” his boss called, snapping him back to reality. 

Luka frowned. “I was about to clock out.” 

The boss man shrugged and handed him the slip and the order. “Eric’s not here yet. Text me when you get there and I’ll clock you out, then you can go straight home.”

Luka sighed to himself but knew better than to protest. His eyes widened slightly as he saw the address.

The sun was setting and there was a chill in the air, burning his lungs as he pedaled. 

Marinette was waiting for him on the steps, wrapped tightly in a knitted cardigan that had clearly seen better days. She came down the stairs before he’d even stopped, beaming. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he said softly, a slow smile spreading his face. “Late dinner tonight?”

“Well, the girls made other plans, but I didn’t feel like going out, ssso I-I-I-l—“ He waited while she gathered herself. “Um, are you off w-work now?”

“Actually…” Luka sent the text to his boss, and got an almost immediate confirmation. “There.” He grinned at her, pocketing the phone. “I am now.”

“Then...do you want to have dinner with mmme?” She motioned to the picnic tables under the trees next to the dorm building. 

Luka tried not to look as pleased as he was. “I’d love to. Let me just lock up.” He nodded towards the bike rack. He handed Marinette the pizza and she took it towards the tables.

There were butterflies in his stomach as he locked up his bike and pulled his few valuables out of the basket, including his acoustic guitar, which he slung across his back. He glanced back towards Marinette and then ducked to check the mirror on the bike next to his, raking his fingers through his hair to muss it into something less helmet-shaped. “Don’t screw this up, Couffaine,” he told his reflection. Then he took a deep breath and jogged back toward Marinette. 

To his complete shock (and utter relief, because he’d really been done with pizza since about his third week on the job), Marinette had a small casserole dish waiting on the picnic table, steaming in the cool air. “I mmmade it at h-h-home and it’s been in the freezer all week. I used the common room kitchen to heat it up. It’s not f-f-fancy, b-but at least it’s n-n-not p-pizza?” She looked shy, twisting her hands together. 

“You’re amazing,” Luka said fervently, sliding onto the picnic table bench. “Oh my God, real food!” 

Marinette giggled. “It’s just a c-casserole.”

Luka shook his head. “You don’t understand. My sister eats like a rabbit and my cooking skills are passable at best. We basically live on salads and fruit and takeout.” Somewhere there was a smooth line about not needing to go through his stomach to get to his heart, but she smiled at him as she handed him a portion of casserole on a paper plate, and he couldn’t quite make his brain work enough to be sure it would come out right.

“Well, I hope you like it.” She sat down and opened the pizza box.

“You’re not having any?” Luka blinked.

Marinette shrugged. “I like p-pizza.”

“Aww, and here I thought you just liked me,” he teased.

Marinette’s cheeks turned pink and she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I d-do.” Then she cleared herself throat. “Eat, it’ll get c-c-cold f-fast out here.”

Luka’s grin couldn’t get any wider. “I like you too, Gorgeous.” Then he felt his own face heat. “So what are you studying?” he asked quickly as he dug in. “Wow, this is good.”

“Mmmy parents own a bakery,” she told him. “I’ve b-been in the kitchen sssince I was a b-baby.”

She told him about her classes in design and business, and he eagerly asked her all the questions he’d been saving up for months. Luka noticed she was stuttering less as they talked. He hoped that meant she was comfortable with him. He really wanted that to be true. He was hanging on every word that fell from those perfect lips, and everything he heard just made him want to know more. 

Then she pulled out a container of madeleines that she had made and dipped in chocolate herself, and he knew he was a goner. “Careful, Gorgeous, a guy could get ideas from being treated like this,” he chuckled as he bit into one. “Homemade food and cookies--I might think you like having me around.” 

“T-t-technically, they’re c-cakes,” she told him loftily, and picked up one of her own. A hot flush rushed through him as he watched her eat it delicately. He looked away and had to clear his throat before he could speak again. 

It felt like no time at all had passed, but the plates were empty and the cookie-cakes were gone. The sun had vanished below the horizon some time ago, the bright halogen lights on the building washing out everything around them, and the chill air raised goosebumps on his arms, but Luka still couldn’t make himself leave.

“Parkour? Seriously?”

Marinette giggled. “Yep.”

“How do you even get into something like that?” Luka asked, leaning his elbow on the table to look at her.

Marinette shrugged. “I don’t know, I just...nnnneeded to run and I d-didn’t mmmuch care what was in the wwway. I sssstarted when I w-was fifteen. It was a g-good w-way to get rid of frustration. Mmmy p-parents saw me c-climb a wwwall and j-jump across to the next b-building. They t-took me over to the local f-freerunning association and ssssigned me up so I would get p-proper t-training.”

“Smart,” Luka observed. “It’s cool that they did that instead of trying to make you stop.” His smile widened appreciatively. “Although somehow I feel like getting you to quit anything you wanted to do would be pretty difficult.” She wrinkled her nose cutely at him and he laughed. “That doesn’t look like a denial.”

“Nnno c-comment,” she scrunched up her shoulders and stuck her nose in the air, and it was so cute Luka thought he might die. His heart was pounding and he wished he could ask her to go for a walk or something, anything to prolong the evening.

Unfortunately, he had another engagement.

“I’m afraid I have to go soon,” Luka said reluctantly, checking the time. “I actually do have something else I have to do tonight, but...thanks for dinner. You’re just as much fun as I thought you’d be.” He winked.

Somehow that flustered her terribly and whatever tried to come out ended up so garbled he couldn’t understand her. 

“I don’t think I caught that, babe,” Luka said, trying not to laugh. 

Marinette put her hands over her face. gave a frustrated huff. “Sssorry. And here I’ve b-been d-doing all the t-talking, and I hardly found out anything ab-bout you. I’m sssorry.” She made a face. “It’s p-probably frustrating for you, l-listening to mmme.”

“Don’t apologize,” Luka said with complete sincerity. “It’s no big deal to wait until you get it out. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“Sssstill. Thanks for being sssso p-patient with me. T-too bad it’s not sssocially acceptable to b-burst into sssong.” She smiled at him so sweetly that Luka’s mouth answered without his brain’s permission. 

“Gorgeous, with lips like yours everything you say sounds like music to me.” 

Even so the blush that rose to his face was nothing compared to the shade of red Marinette turned. She made another strangled noise and Luka chuckled, reaching across the table to touch her hand, just resting his fingers lightly on the back. “You okay, or was that too much?” He ducked his head a little, trying to see her eyes. “I promise it wasn’t just a line. I meant it.”

“I kn-kn-know. Th-th-that’s w-w-why it wwworked,” she huffed, darting a shy smile at him. 

Luka bit his lip, and then took the leap. “I really like you, Marinette. I’m sorry if I’ve been asking too many questions, but I’ve been wanting to get to know you better for weeks. You’re the song that’s been playing in my head since the day we met. I’d really like to talk to you more often. Could I maybe give you my number, and if you feel like it, we could text sometime?”

Cheeks still red, Marinette handed him her phone. Luka grinned, and programmed his number. Marinette took the phone back and typed. A moment later his phone pinged with a new message. Luka saved the number under Gorgeous. 

“Come here, I need a picture,” Luka beckoned her, and she leaned in with him and let him take a selfie. It was a little washed out from the lights and his hair was a disaster, but he still grinned when he looked at her sweet smile next to his. “Perfect.”

“Sssend it to me?” Marinette asked, blushing. 

“Sure thing, babe.” He stood up and slung his guitar over his back, offering Marinette a hand up. “Thanks for dinner.” 

She let him help her to her feet. “Ssso do you actually play that th-thing?” Marinette asked, waving at his guitar. 

Luka laughed. “I know a chord or two, yeah. I prefer my electric, but this one’s a bit more portable.” 

“Mmaybe next time you can p-play something for me,” she giggled.

Luka grinned, leaning in a bit. “I’d love to play for you almost as much as I’d love for there to be a next time.”

She blushed a bit but didn’t avoid his eyes this time. “Ssso t-t-text mmme and we’ll pick a nnnext t-time?”

“Absolutely.” It was stupid how much he wanted to kiss her, and he would be stupid to try so soon. He forced himself to straighten up. “Goodnight, Gorgeous. Thanks for the cookies.”

“Th-they’re c-cakes, t-technically,” Marinette tucked a loose strand of hair back and Luka knew he better get out of there before he got any stupider.

He still had the stupid grin on his face when he got home. Juleka looked up and frowned as he came in. “Where have you been?” she demanded. “Hurry up and get ready, we’re going to be late. The rest of the band will be half set up before we even get there at this rate.”

“It’s fine, Jules, it won’t take me that long,” he said dismissively. 

“If I have to smell pizza on top of the club, I’m gonna hurl, Luka,” she complained.

He rolled his eyes. “Decide how big a hurry you’re in, sis, you can either wait for me to shower or deal with—“

“Fine, shower, just make it fast. What the hell kept you?”

The stupid grin came back. “I’m not exactly sure, but...I think it was a date.”

Part 1| Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 (end) | Bonus Scene

Now on AO3

Check out the sequel!

Hey Gorgeous: Under Your Skin

That’s all I’ve got for now, but we’ll see what the future holds...thanks for reading! This whole thing will go up on AO3 sometime today.

[yeollieayheehoo]

Circles

Authors note: This is my very first request! “ can i request a taehyung and reader angst? it can be whatever you want it to be, i just want some good ole angsty angst. “ Thanks anon. One angst for you 

Summary: This is never easy, losing a life. 

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader (female)

Genre: angst

Rating:  PG

Warnings: explicit language, mention of life loss, miscarriage, 

Word Count: 2.1K

The lights are too bright.

The walls are too white, and the room practically glows around you. You can’t help but wonder if it’s the remnants of the souls that have died in this room, finding the sheetrock a reasonable substitute to shine their light, their bodies failing them.

You wonder if your child will find their way back to this room, or if they will find another room in this hospital to illuminate.

Beside you your husband answers the nurse’s questions, your voice failing you. Your husbands’ hand is tight in yours, his tan skin seeming darker than usual against yours, which has turned white too. You hope that you will join this room also, when your body too fails you.

You can hear the nurse say she’ll be back, and you close your eyes, unable to look at the orbs that spin in front of your eyes. Your husband presses a kiss to the back of your hand, tells you he’s going to call his mother, and leaves you alone in the room with the last three hours running through your head.

 “What do you want for lunch?” Taehyung places his left hand on your hip, clasping his right hand with your left and sways from side to side, grinning brightly at you, pleased with his impromptu dance in your living room.

“Cheese sticks.”

“Cheese sticks, huh?” You giggle as he spins you, imagining the music in his head and leading you to an unknown beat. “Oooh, and a milkshake. God I could kill for a vanilla milkshake right now.”

“Murder is still illegal my love, but I could probably do something about the milkshake and cheese sticks.” You hum in consideration as your free hand slides it’s way from his shoulder to play with the hair kissing the nape of his neck. “Does it count as murder if you’re pregnant? Because the tiny human in me is the one demanding, thus the one responsible for the murderous need for a milkshake.”

“I love when your lawyer comes out.” Taehyungs voice is teasing as he leans forward and presses his lips softly against yours. He puts the hand he’s holding over his shoulder before letting his fall to your waist, pads of his thumbs rubbing small circles into the skin of your stomach.

The doorbell interrupts your moment and you cant help but smile at Taehyungs pout as you pull away. “It’s open! You don’t have to ring every time you come over Joonie.”

“After the time I found you two procreating, I’ll ring, thanks though.” Namjoon walks through your door with both hands full of bags. “Did Christmas come early this year?”

“For you? No. For the tiny human invading your womb right now? Absolutely.”

“You know, the two of you could refer to that tiny human as our baby. That is a thing.” Taehyung moves, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder. His fingers are splayed across your stomach, where they’ve been unable to stay away for more than a few hours since you told him the news of your pregnancy.

“Yeah, but tiny human is cuter than baby.” Namjoon shrugs as he sets the shopping bags down on your living room table and settles in the chair that’s dubbed as his.

“He has a point.” Taehyung sighs and kisses your cheek before pulling away and grabbing his keys from the kitchen counter. “Cheese sticks and a vanilla milkshake, anything else?”

“Just for you to come home safely.” You smile sweetly at your husband and pull him by his hand back to you, kissing him gently. He hums against your lips before stepping back and moving to the door. “Always my love. I’ll be back.” He leaves with a backwards shout of love and you turn your attention to your best friend when the door closes. “What is all of this?”

“I know you don’t know what you’re having yet, but I figured whatever you don’t need you could save for the next kid. It’s not like it’ll go out of style, I have great tastes obviously.” Namjoon gestures to himself and laughs before leaning forward. “But seriously, I figured you could just put the boy clothes away until you have a boy, or vice versa.” You ruffle Namjoons’ hair before ignoring the couch and sitting on the floor, reaching for one of the bags in front of you.

He’s gone all out. It takes you thirty minutes to sort through the clothes Namjoon has bought, splitting them by gender and then by age range. You’re finishing folding the last pair of jeans for the boy pile when your phone rings and you’re quick to your feet to grab it as Taehyungs’ ringtone echoes in your kitchen. It ends before you can get to it and as you go to redial, Namjoons’ hands catch your elbows as your knees give out beneath you.

“We need to get you to the hospital.” The room spins as he speaks and his voice sounds garbled, like he’s miles away from you instead of three inches. You drop your phone as you press the heels of your palms against your eyes, shaking your head. “I-I’m okay. It’s just a dizzy spell.”

“Y/N, you’re bleeding.” This, you hear perfectly, words spinning around in your mind as the world slows down. Your eyes dart to the spot you were sitting at on the floor, the bright red stain almost puddling against your light brown hardwood floor. You follow the drips that stop at your current location, red trail marking its way down the legs of your jeans.

“I can’t, that’s not..” You stumble over your words as your mind tries to process what’s happening. You can feel the color drain from your face as your breath quickens and the walls of your home close in on you. Namjoons’ hand is hot against your back, almost too hot as shock settles into your bones and you realize what’s happening as Taehyung walks in through the front door.

“Y/N?!” You can hear the panic in his voice as he rushes over, all but throwing the food you’d asked for on the table. “I’m going to start the car. She needs to go to the hospital.” Taehyungs hands replace Namjoons’ and you find that your body is stiff as he pulls you against him. “I’m going to carry you, put your arms around my neck.”

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…” Apologies pour from your mouth before you can stop them, body on autopilot as Taehyung lifts you bridal style and holds you to his chest. “Shhh, it’s okay. You have nothing to apologize for.” His voice is soft against your hair as he carries you to the car, instructing Namjoon to grab your purse from the coat rack as he goes to close the door.

Taehyung shuffles into the back seat with you, keeping his fingers laced with yours as Namjoon speeds through traffic, weaving in and out of cars, ignoring the horns that come his way. Your mind races as you try to remember if there was a warning, if there was a pain, something you ignored, but nothing throws itself at you. All you can think of are the piles of clothes you folded and the warmth of Taehyungs hands against your stomach.

 Everything turns to a blur by the time you get to the ER and you’re no longer sure if this is reality or some cruel joke your mind has decided to play on you. Your body trembles, though from the blood loss or the actual temperature of the mid-day fall breeze you don’t know. It’s not until you’re loaded on a stretcher and wheeled through the waiting room that your body goes numb, senses shot into over drive, and the laughter of the little girl you pass who’s sitting with her mother makes your mind shut down as you pass through the double doors of an operating room.

 “Y/N? Can you hear me?” You’re pulled from the memory of cold steel pressed against your skin and back into the too white room, Taehyungs’ eyes wide with worry.

“What did I do wrong?” Your voice finally breaks, bottom lip quivering as the dam breaks. “What did I do? I’m sorry Tae, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I killed our baby.”

Your husband is quick to climb into the hospital bed with you, careful to avoid the wires of your IV. His hands are warm when he pulls you to his chest as your body trembles, sobs racking through your being as you hide your face against his shirt. “You didn’t, my love. You didn’t kill our baby, you didn’t do anything wrong. It just wasn’t time, the world wasn’t ready for them yet. It’ll be okay, we’ll be okay.”

 You don’t say anything as you’re discharged, Taehyung listening carefully as the doctor explains what you can and cannot do, taking the list that’s offered to him. Namjoons’ tired face greets you in the waiting room, giving your hand a squeeze as he says nothing, opening the car door for you as Taehyung pushes you in the wheelchair to the back seat. It smells like lemon and you know that Namjoon has spent the hours you were in hell trying to clean.

The ride back home feels like a nightmare. The sun has set and the moon struggles to shine through the overcast of clouds and you know all too well what that feels like.

Your home has the same lemon scent, and you find yourself grateful this time for it. The living room table is empty, not how you left it and you furrow your brows. “Where are all of the clothes?” Your voice is scratchy, throat raw.

“I put them away…I didn’t think you’d want to look at them.” Namjoon regards you warily, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck as you glare at the once full table. “Take them back, get a refund for them.”

“We can talk about it later, you need to rest.” Taehyung hand is gentle against your elbow, a stark contrast from the way you pull away from him violently. “I don’t want to talk about it later. There’s nothing to talk about. They’re just going to go to waste. Get your money back Namjoon.”

“Keep them.”

“For what? To save for later? There won’t be a later. I’m done. I can’t do that again. I refuse.” You can feel the tears before they well in your tear ducts, the tingling sensation climbing from your cheeks and up your nose. “You heard what she said Taehyung. A twenty five percent chance to make it to full term. Twenty-five. That means three out of four tries are going to end up right back here and I can’t go through that. I can’t sit here and try again just to feel the life we made together die inside me.” Your voice cracks at the last word, and you stumble back against the couch as your legs give out from under you. Taehyung rushes towards you, kneeling down in front of you as you bury your face in your palms.

“We don’t have to talk about this right now. We aren’t going to talk about this right now. “

“Just leave me alone. Please.”

“You don’t need to be alone right now.”

“For fucks’ sake, just leave me the fuck alone!” You don’t mean to yell, don’t mean to be this angry, don’t mean to take it out on your best friend or husband, but you do. When it’s clear that neither of them are going to move, you do, finding solace in the bathtub of your extra bathroom.

 It’s hours before Taehyung knocks on the door, silently stepping into the room and sitting in the bathtub across from you, knees touching yours as he plays with your fingers. You don’t know how long the two of you stay like this, the silence growing into something ugly, coating the walls and turning the air around you heavy. “You need to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Y/N-“

“I meant what I said Taehyung. I’m not trying again. If you want kids, have them with someone else.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes. I do.” Taehyungs hands stop moving against yours because he knows. He knows you’re serious, knows you’ve made up your mind. If he’s learned anything in the last two years it’s that you don’t go back on your decisions. He sighs as he leans his head back against the shower wall, feeling defeated because he knows.

He knows you’re done.

[shutterjae]

     it was still relatively freezing in korea and thus the windows in jaes car were firmly rolled up, heating on and her stereo blasting as she made her way towards her destination, the abandoned amusement park yongma land. it was a popular tourist spot, and many groups (including her own) had shot pictorials or music videos there in the past. but she was going to be staying there for the next two night and exploring it in depth, for some reason. the dark haired girl wasn’t used to being front and centre in the ghost gang videos, she was more of a behind the scenes kind of gal. but she had experience vlogging from her groups reality show they filmed on and off. still, it was a new experience in this particular setting and the idea of it all set her a little on edge, though she’d never admit it. she caught a glimpse of her destination in the distance and made to take her exit, pursing her lips and humming along to the song playing on the radio.

the first night

     making her way up the steps to the amusement park, she smiled and bowed in greeting to the groundskeeper handing over the money for her stay and a little extra so that he would turn on the merry go round lights later that evening. bidding him farewell and late new years greetings, she hitched the heavy bags of equipment on her shoulder and looked around with a sigh. it would soon be dusk, so she should probably set everything up and get ready. she’d been filming little snippets as she’d been going about her day, but nothing of real value, just getting used to having the camera in her hand and documenting the little things. heading over to the staff building that would serve as her bed for the night, she unlocked the door and stepped in to find it relatively welcoming, with a bathroom and a little bed made out of a futon and some cushions in the corner. tossing her sleeping bag on top of it, she let the bag down to the floor and began organising all the equipment she would need.      the bright light of the setting sun lit the park up beautifully, and jae wasn’t afraid to admit she was ready to some wonderful photos, both of the landscape and herself, and decided to flip on the handheld vlogging camera to begin the investigation. “annyeonghaseyo yeorobun, ghosteu gang oh jaehwa imnida” she paused,frowning “ah, otteokhae, is this awkward? should i speak in korean? or maybe english? i think the majority of our viewers are english? ah vivi can just sub this later, sorry vivs” she laughed, throwing a wink at the camera “i’m here at the deserted amusement park, yongma land!” she grinned, lifting the camera up out to her full arm span and doing a twirl to show off her surroundings. “i’m not used to vlogging these days guys, so, just be patient, i feel a bit dumb talking to myself” she laughed, making her way into the park and shaking her head “but this place is really creepy, even if the ghost stories have no clout. i’ve got goosebumps just looking at this place up close” she sighed, wrinkling her nose and shaking her head. “but anyway, can you see this lighting?” she turned the camera round and gave a view of the soft orange and red hues that were bouncing off every surface before turning the camera back to herself “i’m gonna take this opportunity to take some photo’s on that ride over there so... cue montage” she winked again, biting her lip and setting the camera down on a ledge, making sure it was still recording as it faced the run down viking ship and began the long process of taking both a mixture of selfies and wide shots of the entire park.      she’d been investigating and filming for a couple of hours and the sun had fully set, it was about time for the maintenance guy to turn on the merry go round lights for her, she made her way there, chattering aimlessly to the camera as she did so, much more comfortable with talking to herself than she was earlier on. she was mid sentence, talking about the history of the park and the rumours of the ghosts when a sight stopped her in her tracks and she almost dropped the camera. “omo...yeorobun... igeo jinjja yeppeundae” she sighed happily, the merry go round lit up beautifully against the dark inky black of the rest of the park “would you just look at... wow” she hurried over, wanting to take a closer look. climbing onto the ride, she wove in between the different seats and horses, filming as she did so before turning the camera on herself “hm, is the lighting good for me too? nope, too yellow” she pouted, wrinkling her nose before a movement in the corner of her eye caused her to flinch and turn her head sharply. “hello? ajeoshi?” she called, stepping forwards towards the edge of the merry go round and looking around with wide eyes. “huh, must have been my imagination...” she frowned, looking back down at the camera “weird. i could have sworn i saw.. ah it’s nothing.” she laughed a little nervously, brushing it off. “shall we get some pictures of the lights before they turn off?” she resumed brightly, setting the camera down again so she could get to work.      after about an hour or so more, jae found herself yawning and felt she’d done enough for that day. heading back to base camp, she unlocked the door and stepped in, making sure to lock it behind her before getting ready for bed, washing up in the small bathroom and getting into her pyjamas before settling into her sleeping bag and switching the camera on again “i’m going to head to sleep as it’s now... almost midnight.” she squinted at her watch in the dark “i’ve got a motion camera set up outside the door and there are microphones that’ll probably only pick up the odd raccoon or whatever. goodnight!”

the second night

     to say she slept well would be the overstatement of the century, jae wasn’t used to sleeping on a futon and the temperature plummeted further than she expected, forcing her to put her coat on whilst in her sleeping bag. plus she kept on hearing noises outside, that she could only attricute to local wildlife. waking up at about 6am feeling thoroughly unrefreshed, she went and washed her face again and bruhsing her teeth before applying some light make up and checking all her notifications, making sure to message her group members a selfie ensuring them she was still alive and well. “ugh” she groaned, stretching “i need coffee... and breakfast” she sighed, grabbing the camera and making sure it had fresh batteries and sd card, putting all the old ones in her bag for safe keeping before heading to her car to go and find a cafe.    sat in the parking lot of a small shopping district, jae put on some sunglasses and a hat and bundled herself up in her coat, heading inside the quaint cafe to order herself something warm and comforting to start her day. sat at her table waiting, she turned on the camera and spoke quietly into it “guys... i’m in this cute as heck cafe, and i’m pretty sure no one here has recognised me. god bless i can eat my breakfast in peace” she smiled, winking and posing a cute v pose into the lens. she didn’t usually act like this, but she knew how to ham up her persona for the audience and make people believe she was really this bright and cheerful in reality. when her food and drink arrived, she thanked the waitress politely and ate her breakfast in relative peace, if it wasn’t for her phone ringing halfway through, yeonhui.      whiling her day away doing some vague shopping and sight seeing in the surrounding areas, jae finally returned to the amusement park tonight, she planned to do more in depth investigating, heading towards the ride where a girl had supposedly died and settling down on the steps to it. grabbing the spirit box, she turned on her camera once more. “it’s nighttime on day 2, everyone” she smiled, showing the camera her surroundings “i’m going to do a spirit box session, even though i hate this thing” she frowned, looking down at the device with distaste “and let’s see if we can’t get a conversation, right?” she turned it on and let it skip for a few seconds before looking around into the night “hello... my name is jae... if there’s anyone here, who wants to say anything... you can use this here to talk to me” she held it up, pursing her lips. she jumped when a fraction of a second of garbled mumbo jumbo came from the box and she almost dropped it, before laughing it herself. “okay, lets start: uh, ireumi mwoyeyo?” she asked tentatively, waiting a few seconds for a reply that never came “um, mwo sal-eyo?” she offered again, her voice lilting at the ends childishly, because let’s be real she was talking to a kid here. another fragmented section of nothing that could possibly be interpreted as ‘ship-i’ to anyone who listened hard enough “oh, apeuni?” she asked a few more odd questions, never getting much from the box before she decided to just turn it off altogether. sighing, she shook her head before she frowned. she could hear a distant rattling,coming from the direction of her temporary living. bolting upright, she squinted in the distance but she couldn’t see anything.      she ran towards the small building, slowing her pace to a light jog as she rounded on the door that had been locked when she left it. stepping forwards, jae tentatively pushed the door open, fist balled ready to lash out if she needed to and found the small room pretty much ransacked. her phone started ringing simultaneously as she stepped over the threshold, her horrified face caught in the frame of the camera as it was held by her side. pulling her phone out of her pocket, she noted it was a number she didn’t recognise and she declined the call, only to immediately receive a barrage of messages from numbers she didn’t know. looking around, she could see movement in the shadows by one of the rides and didn’t hesitate to bolt from the room to her car, her high school sprint showing its true colours as she turned her phone off, slipped it into her bag and grabbed her keys all in one swift movement. unlocking the door, she jumped inside and threw her bag onto the passenger seat, slamming the door behind her and locking the doors. putting the keys into the ignition with angry, shaky hands, the lights came on and illuminated a group of about 4 or 5 people, she couldn’t tell if they were men or women but she started the engine quickly, only to look behind her in the mirror and see two of them blocking her exit. revving the engine threateningly, she shouted for them to get out of the way and honked her horn loudly, they didn’t obey so she reversed a foot or so, honking again and they scattered finally. speeding out of the car park, she drove to a hotel she was familiar with about an hour away, not the one she was actually booked in (under an alias, naturally) because clearly the sasaengs had all of her travel information.      sat in the luxury suite of the hotel, she sighed and leaned back as she sipped on a glass of wine, her face a portrait of anger. she’d had to leave behind the motion camera, the microphones and her wash bag at the park. all small losses, in the long run. but irritating nonetheless she’d called her manager using the hotels phone to explain what had happened. a knock sounded at her door and she got up, walking over to the peep hole to see one of the hotel staff holding a small box. opening it a crack, she looked through the gap and raised a brow in question. “delivery for miss oh from SHY” she smiled, holding it up. a new phone. “thanks” she sighed, dryly and holding her hand out for the token. “can i get you anything else, miss?” the irl asked eagerly, clearly not used to dealing with celebrities as jae could tell from her glistening eyes and the flush in her cheeks “just another bottle of malbec, please” the dark haired girl responded with a brief smile. nodding a bow in response to the younger girls eager one.

what a dud this had turned out to be.

[fakesoniicfan]

Not a day goes by where I don’t think about him. 

No one ever warns you about the effects true loss can have on a person.

I mean why would they though? Shit’s depressing.

It’s been over five months since I lost Max. I’m still dealing with it. I still have days where I forget he’s gone, and upon realising I’ll never have the chance to see him again, it’s like the day he died all over again.

I will never forget that night.

We knew Max had very suddenly fallen ill. In the space of one hour something had gone horribly wrong. To this day I don’t know what happened. I can’t know. 

My Dad and brother rushed him to the vet, and promised to keep me updated. They insisted I continue with my original day plans of picking my two best friends up and driving them back to our house to sleep over. I said okay. I hadn’t seen Max though. The last memory I have of my boy is of him resting on the patio, eyes shut, listening to the low rumble of sea crashing against reef. 

So I left home, got my friends, explained the situation. By now the Earth had turned and the sun was out of sight. It had fallen dark. My hands began to shake and eventually I had to turn the music off. We rode in silence. for half the drive my friends insisted it was fine. What if Dad’s phone just ran out of battery? What if Max is completely fine and we’ll be so surprised when we get home? What if they simply forgot to update me on his condition? 

But I knew

I know my family

I knew what was about to happen

So why did it hurt so much

I frantically got out the car but slowly walked up the stairs as if in disbelief, not wanting to face the inevitable. My Dad came into view at the top of the stairs, who turned towards me, wordless.

I have never experienced pain like that before.

It felt like something deep inside me was physically ripped from my body. The wind was knocked out of me numerous times as the reality hit me over and over and over again. Sobbing turned to garbled yelling. My Dad held me, then my best friends, Becca and Nick. 

Members of my family have died before. I know what it’s like. I’ve cried over them. I’ve missed them. But none of it was like this. And for a long time I thought I must be a totally heartless person. How could I value a pet more that a human life? 

No, that’s not the case. Because when you think about it, I’ve spent 8 years with Max. I raised him from a baby. I fed him. I called him names. I ran with him on his favourite beach. When he was sick, I nursed him back to health. I spent time with him when I was sad. He was a big dog, but his personalty was big too. He commanded the space he was in - he didn’t have to beg for attention. Everyone who met him instantly fell in love with the boy. He was such a patient big brother to Penny. He used to scratch my door to wake me up on mornings.... I saw his face almost every single day. His face, lit by the rising sun, breathing heavy and occasionally coughing and spitting on my half-asleep face...

He brought me so much pure joy.... just by being alive. 

Every couple of weeks I relive that day. Something triggers it - a picture, a sound, a smell. And a piece of me is torn again. Dealing with loss of a loved one is exhausting. I say this as I’m writing in my now usual fit of tears and hiccuping, it’s not getting easier.

If there’s something I’m learning... It’s that, no.... It doesn’t get easier... You just find better ways to cope and distract yourself. There’s no “filling the void”. It’s painful. I truly feel like I’ve lost a piece of myself. 

This isn’t a happy post. It’s more of... a reflection. I hope someone can relate to this.... Because honestly only my Dad understands the toll Max’s death has taken on me. Please understand that he was never ‘just a pet’. 

The attached drawings are tattoo design ideas. The first one is my Dad jokingly using Max as a foot rest. The second is Dad taking Max on a beach walk. 

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

Mechanic!harry and YN on their day off and Harry can't help but attack his sleepy girl with morning kisses bc he's Whipped™ af 😩😩

Harry hadn’t planned on having Friday off.

The way everything had worked out at the shop throughout the week, with how many cars he’d been in charge of, he had planned on going in early today to finish up an oil change on a Honda Civic and tire replacements on a Toyota Camry. He would’ve managed to finish by noon, if nothing else arose, and been able to pick up some lunch on his way home to get ready for his and Y/N’s usual Friday movie nights at a nearby theatre.

But when his phone randomly started shrieking at seven in the morning, exactly an hour before he had to be up for work, he immediately felt a cold sting of dread shoot through his veins.

Harry had rubbed at his tired eyes, bringing the sleek black device up to his face and focusing on Liam’s bleary contact picture (a picture he was quite proud of considering it was so rare to catch a shot of someone mid-sneeze). He’d swiped his thumb across the screen, pressing the cold glass surface against his ear and shivering instinctively.

“Hello?” His voice was a deep, garbled mess of sleep and exhaustion and Liam could barely understand the word.

“Harry?”

“No, it’s the Queen.” Harry quips back sarcastically, sighing heavily as he knuckles at his half-shut eyes, trying to rid the sleep from his mind. He then hears faint snickering in the background, which he recognizes as Niall.

To confirm his allegation, the blonde boy’s thick Irish accent crackles through the phone in the form of a mocking cackle. “Someone forgot to iron the Queen’s knickers, it seems.”

Harry ignores the comment, his words coming out with an annoyed bite. “What d’you want?”

“Well, if you’re gonna have that attitude, then I guess I won’t tell you that you don’t have to come into today. See you in an hour, prick.”

He stops his fist mid-rub against his eyelid. “Wait, wait! What?”

”Me and Niall just finished up some of our stuff and thought we could help you out. Finish your cars for you so you won’t have to come in later.”

“Are you serious?” Harry glances behind his shoulder at the softly snoring mound of comforter, pillows and hair that is his sleeping girlfriend, feeling a small, muted pang of excitement inflate in his chest. “That’d be fucking incredible. Thanks so much, Li. God, I owe you big time.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just thank God I offered before Nick did. He did the same for Niall a while back and you should’ve heard what he was gonna make him do to compensate.”

Harry hears a sharp whine in the background of Liam’s side of the call, then Niall’s voice comes through, full of hurt panic and shocked anger. ”I told you not to talk about that ever fuckin’ again!”

”Only because you were willing to do it.” Liam chuckles softly, then the distinct sound of a whack echoes through the phone’s speaker. ”Ow!”

“Okay, well,” Harry interrupts his friends’ scuffle with a light cough, “thanks again. I’d stick around to hear what Niall almost did with Nick but I’m too tired and sleepy and, frankly, am not up to handling your idiocy right now so goodnight.”

“It’s not even night anym—“

Harry hangs up, cutting off Niall’s snarky comment halfway finished.

He places his phone back on the nightstand and yanks the covers over his bare shoulders, snuggling into the mattress and scooting closer to Y/N. He snakes an arm around her warm hips, sighing deeply with content as he pulls her body against his, the comforting heat she radiates mixing with her soft, soothing scent of rosemary and cocoa butter lotion, sinking into his chest and arms and lulling his mind back into a relaxed sleep.

///

Harry wakes up a few hours after, sunlight streaming in through the cracks in the blinds of the bedroom window, casting a muted haze all across the room as it filters through the sheer cream curtains.

His eyes blink open all slow and lazy, cloudy vision gradually clearing up to focus on the blurry shape before him.

Sometime during their slumber, Y/N had managed to roll over in his arms, cuddling further into him until the side of her face was pressed against the front of his naked shoulder. Her own arms are tucked against his warm chest as it rises and falls with a relaxed rhythm, her legs tangled between both of his as her cold feet try to warm themselves up against his calves.

She’s snoring ever-so-softly, her entire face slack with sleep, her eyelashes sitting perfectly pretty on the tops of her lightly flushed cheeks. Her lips are part a bit, her breathing deep as she inhales through her mouth and exhales through her nose, her shoulders rising and falling with the action. Her hair is in a sloppy bun with pieces and strands falling out, framing her cheeks in a manner he finds almost artistic. To him, she looks unbelievably beautiful in her sleep— so pure and mellow and effortlessly gorgeous that it’s border-lining ethereal.

And then she randomly chokes on her breathing, letting out a sharp snort, her face scrunching up and nose wiggling.

Ethereal indeed.

Harry can feel a warm glow start to spread across his entire chest, filling his lungs with a certain form of endeared love that comes out as a gentle chuckle. He reaches a hand up from where it was perched on her supple waist, the duvet sliding down his arm and exposing it to the cold air, causing his fingers to twitch. He takes her chin between his thumb and forefinger, sliding the bigger digit across her bottom lip and across her jaw.

The soothing action causes her to unconsciously cradle her face against the palm of his big hand, her body naturally reacting to his familiar cozy touch.

Harry can’t help himself— she’s just so damn cute. He reaches forward, his gaze flickering from her tinted lips to her closed eyelids and then back down, anticipation causing him to lick his own.

He then sifts his mouth between her’s, sucking at her bottom lip gently and feeling a wave of buzzing wash across his entire face. Her lips are so soft and warm and they feel like home; it doesn’t take a tongue kiss get him melting because, for some magical and unknown reason, something as simple as touching his mouth to her’s is more than enough.

Harry didn’t intend for it to go much further than that. He just wanted a sleepy kiss that he could lock away in his heart to fond over later. But Y/N has him so wrapped around her finger— so utterly, helplessly, whip-cream whipped— he should’ve known it wouldn’t end there. Should’ve know one wouldn’t be enough.

So he gives in, bringing his whole hand up against the side of her face to cup her entire jaw, moving noddles of her hair back from her cheek and tucking them behind her ear in order to get full access. Then, he surges forward and suckles her mouth into his— nothing harsh, but just gentle sucking that should be just enough for her to stir awake.

Harry licks across the outside of Y/N’s top lip, feeling a blush crawling up his neck as his body instinctively reacts to her touch. He pastes several gooey pecks on her mouth, then drifts down across her chin and up the supple mounds of her cheeks, then brushes his damp lips across her eyelids. Down the bridge of her nose, across her creasing forehead, then pooling light kisses in the area right behind her jaw and just under her ear where he knows she’s ticklish.

The disturbance of this particularly soft spot succeeds in stirring Y/N from her slumber, an airy groan stringing her dormant vocal chords, the sound thick and heavy with sleep. Her eyelids crack open slowly, one at a time, trying to see what had woken her up. Her mind is still floating around in her dreams, her brain trying to reign into reality and get her body to respond.

Meanwhile, Harry is still entertaining himself with showering her in kisses, sponging his lips down her neck and across her throat, suckling the skin with need and humming deeply with satisfaction.

The vibrations make the first few sleepy giggles finally escape Y/N.

He grins against her blushing juglar, kissing everywhere with more fervor and swimming in the way she starts to squirm and laugh harder, little blurbs of words managing to get by. “Har—! Harry, what are you doing?!”

“Nothing.” He quips back simply, shifting around and swinging one of his legs to straddle her hips, quickly moving to pin her down against the bed and continue his assault, answering between kisses. “Just— having some— fun— s’all.”

Y/N’s a mess of giggles and shrieks, writhing around in his grasp as he traps her in place with his thighs, pinning her shoulders down with his forearms and cupping her face with his big palms, keeping her from shrinking into herself to escape his attack. “It tickles!”

“Does it now?” He chuckles sarcastically, bringing his face level with her’s and returning her helpless expression with a mocking quirk of his brows.

“Yes! It’s does!” She pants, swallowing thickly and trying to force the smile from her face because it’s probably not helping her case at all, but rather egging him on.

“Good.” Harry states simply, then bends down and glues sloppy kisses all over her face— her cheeks, nose, chin, eyes— everywhere until she’s begging him, between heaps of snorty laughter, to let her breathe.

He lays out on top of her body, his chin resting on her upper chest, right in front of her face. He gives her a grin so innocent and bright that she can’t help but return it, too in love and too happy to even try and pretend to be grumpy. “I thought you said you had work today?”

“Liam called me earlier and said he and Niall would cover for me. I have the whole day off.” Harry’s trailing one of his index fingers up her bare arm, following the slope of her neck (and smirking when her shoulders jolt in anticipation of another round of kisses), curving around the back of her right ear and down her cheekbone, climbing the side of her nose and finally bopping it. “Thought I’d put a little more excitement into our morning.”

“By stampeding me with your mouth?” Y/N deadpans, her lips twitching with fondness.

“The best kind of stampede there is, if you ask me.”

“Hm.”

“Well,” he squeezes her nose in playful spite, “if you’re gonna be rude about it, guess you can make your own chocolate fudge pancakes, then.”

Harry goes to get up and head for the door, smiling to himself triumphantly when he feels the weight of her hand land softly on his bicep. Her voice speaks up with curious meekness. “Chocolate fudge?”

He casts a side-glance over his shoulder, back muscles contracting and flexing in an unintentional yet alluring manner, nodding his head and shrugging his brows in confirmation. “With white chocolate chips, a side of my famous Three-Pepper and Pepperoni Scrambled Eggs, and some pomegranate apple juice I picked up yesterday.”

Y/N sits forward, her head perking up slightly as her eyes fill with the familiar child-like excitement he’s so fond of. “Pomegranate apple juice?”

Harry turns fully now, his baggy sweatpants sitting low on his hips as he reaches up and pushes his messy tuffs of ringlets back from his forehead, Y/N watching with her heart fluttering in her chest as they curl to form swirls that look similar to cinnamon rolls.

He looks good enough to eat— with the tiny dimples on his stomach, his subtle love handles looking so soft and supple, and his tattoos flexing with his movements. Y/N might just skip the whipped cream on her pancakes and settle licking him up instead.

He watches with smug amusement as she ogles him from the bed, the comforter clutched tight in her fists as licks her lips slowly, eyes pasted to the dip of his hips.

“I was even gonna sit you down and feed you,” he drawls on, tutting with fake sympathy. “Sit you right there on the counter and stand between your legs and cut the pancakes into little pieces, just how you like it, and give ‘em to you. But I guess you can do that by yourself, then.”

“Okay, okay.” She says, rolling her eyes but humoring him nonetheless. “ I’m sorry.”

Harry purses his lips in faux thought, pretending to be thinking her apology over. He then crosses his arms over his broad chest, tilting his head to the side cockily, a lopsided smirk curving his rosy lips. “Say you love my kisses.”

“I love your kisses.”

He’s surprised by her immediate compliance— so immediate that he decides to push it a little further.

Harry falls to his knees on the edge of the bed, pushing himself onto all fours and crawling toward his girlfriend slowly, the mattress dipping with his weight. The sun glints off of his tanned skin perfectly, highlighting the lighter shades of brown in his hair and reflecting off the subtle scruff along his jaw. He comes close to Y/N until his hands are propped on either side of her thighs, his face a few inches from her’s. When he speaks, his voice has dropped to a low hum so deep that she can feel it in the pit of her stomach. “What else d’you love about me?”

“I love your pancakes.” She cuts through the tension easily, smiling brightly with all her teeth and attempting to get up but finding herself blocked between Harry’s arms, his shoulder pressing against her chest and shoving her back lightly.

The jade of Harry’s eyes are glimmering with a predatory-like slyness, giving away that they won’t be leaving the bedroom to make pancakes anytime soon. He pushes forward closer, resulting in her having to inch backwards until her back is pinned against the headboard. “What else?”

“I love your hair.” Y/N answers, the corners of her lips twitching up tauntingly as she refuses to give him what he wants. “It’s soft and pretty and smells like apples.”

But Harry is also refusing to back down.

He nudges her nose with his own, trailing it across her sensitive cheeks and brushing his wet lips over her’s, letting the breath of his words wash across them. “And…?”

“And…” Y/N swallows thickly, fisting at the rumpled sheets below her seated thighs as her boyfriend pushes every single one of her buttons like it’s his job. “And your eyes are really pretty, too. They’re really green, kinda like a rainforest green but with—“

“What about my lips?” He interrupts, gazing at her with arrogance flashing in the golden specks of his irises. “D’you love those?”

She shrugs lightly, nodding her head a bit. “Yeah, I guess so. They’re super pink and soft.”

“Hmmm,” Harry hums in amusement, drifting his mouth down the curve of her neck, his nose brushing across her itching skin. “Do you love it when my lips do this?”

He reaches up and hooks a finger into the collar of her oversized P!NK t-shirt, moving the fabric away from her flesh and exposing her shoulder to the chilled air of the room, though the atmosphere is tense and heavy. He pastes gooey kisses on the bare skin, feeling a certain static sting his lips as her body begins to quiver with sensual electricity.

“Y-Yeah…” She breaths out shakily, her head tilting to the side to allow him all the access he wants. “I love it…”

Harry blows on the wet patch lightly, chuckling deep in his stomach when a tiny whimper escapes her bitten lips. He then pulls away, balancing himself on his knees to tower over her. He grabs her hips, pulling her down between his parted thighs until she’s fully on her back against the mattress, looking up at him with wide, doe-like eyes that make his jaw clench and it takes every ounce of will power in him not to shove his cock in her mouth, right then and there. He restrains, however, because he wants to make this a slow burn, both for him and for her.

Harry scoots backwards a few inches until he’s positioned accordingly, then bends forward onto all fours again, bracketing her in between his lean arms and thick thighs. He leans his head down, pinching either side of her shirt between his thumb and forefinger and lifting it up to expose the pudge of her tummy— the same tummy that he loves so fucking much and that he knows is extra sensitive to touch.

He places his hot lips against her stomach, glancing up at her from under his thick lashes, reaching up and shoving a hand through his locks, combing them back from his face. “How about this? Do you love it when they do this?”

He proceeds to sponge his mouth across her tummy, circling her belly button and suckling the skin along her abdomen, loving how she’s jolting against his tongue.

Y/N gulps audibly, her words coming out as a quiet squeak. “Yeah…”

“Good,” he murmurs, continuing to sweep his mouth against her delicate stomach, one of his hands reaching down to pull the comforter over his back to hang across his shoulders.

Then, he begins to untie her Garfield pajama pants painstakingly slow, pulling the loop loose with his teeth as his fingers wriggle into the waistband of the bottoms as well as of her panties, starting to slide them down her hips.

Y/N is gripping onto the sheets for dear life, watching with a bitten lip as Harry nuzzles between her thighs, sucking at her love handles and puckering his mouth against her lower abdomen.

Soon enough he has her pants down her clenching thighs, then over her quaking knees and finally at her ankles, where he sits back onto his heels and presses her feet flat against his bare chest, tugging each cuff off one by one. The bottoms, along with her underwear, are discarded over the edge of the bed, leaving her legs naked to tremble in the cool morning chill of their room.

Harry looks down at his quivering girlfriend with a haughty haze clouding his celadon eyes as he grips each of her legs in his huge hands, turning his face to press a kiss to the knobs of each ankle. He then starts trailing downward, inching forward on his knees with the comforter still hanging over his broad back, casting a dark shadow over Y/N and blocking out the sunlight behind him.

He skims down her calves, licking at them lightly and throwing her legs fully over his shoulders so that her knees bend over them. He collapses onto his stomach on the bed, pushing forward until her thighs are squeezing his neck in anticipation. Harry grabs the duvet in his large fists, pulling it above his head and finally looking up at her.

The dark condescending glint in his irises causes her legs to jerk.

Harry gives her a casual simper, caressing her inner thighs with his lips. “And do you love this?”

He yanks the covers over his head, disappearing under the thick comforter and leaving her utterly blind to what his next actions will be.

She stares up at the creme ceiling with her entire body jittering with anxiousness, glancing down momentarily to see him moving under the blanket. Y/N can feel him shifting her thighs more comfortably over his shoulders, trying to find the perfect alcove to settle into. He drapes his arms over the tops of her thighs, gripping the inner part with his long fingers. Her heels are pressed to the flexing muscles of his back, knees parted to give him as much space as he needs.

All that’s left is for him to do what she knows is coming, but he’s taking his sweet time in order to torture her.

Y/N’s hips are bucking lightly and squirming in premonition, thigh muscles clenching every time Harry as much as breathes.

“Harry…” She whines, toes curling against his sweaty skin and she can feel his back muscles tighten under her heels. “Harry, please…”

There’s a pause in the moment, time seeming to be standing still, and then she can feel his warm breath wash over her dripping core, meaning his lips should be coming any second now.

One of Y/N’s hands jumps into action, shoving under the duvet and wildly grabbing at his hair, twisting the curls between her fingers as she feel his lips brush her folds.

And then he’s sinking nose deep into her cunt without warning, taking her entirely in his mouth and swirling his tongue against the swollen bud of her clit, lapping with wild fervor and suckling roughly.

Her back arches upwards, all control gone from her body as Harry weans it out of her with his prodding tongue and massaging lips, simmering pleasure taking over all of her senses.

She yanks harshly at his curls, throwing her head back as she feels him groaning into her core, his breathing stuttering due to the heat radiating under the comforter.

When he talks, it’s muffled from his full mouth and muted through the blanket, but Y/N already knows what he’s telling her to say. The way he smirks against her cunt gives it all away.

“God, H-Harry, yes! I fucking love it!”

[cloudbattrolls]

From A Thousand Mouths, Our Dead Assemble

Gliese Benral || 8 sweeps || Hanhai Desert, Several Miles Outside Port Mina

Five Minutes Past the Mass Southern Desert Immolation

As your feet drag through the sand, you wonder why you’re here. Who are you, anyway? You have a name, you’re sure of it.

As you fall to your knees, coughing what you assume must be blood, throat burning from smoke (a halo of crackling energy crowning your horns) you try to remember, but everything is blurred, and you have an all-consuming headache.

You think you see the Handmaid with an entourage of ghosts rippling out behind her, needles in her hand, eyes lit up with the fury of a deity scorned by a young girl.

Then she reaches out a hand to you, and unable to resist, you grasp it.

“Get up, miss Benral.”

The goddess of death has spiral horns with spikes on them, and her palm is warm in yours.

--

Two Hours Until the Mass Southern Desert Immolation, Port Mina Outskirts

“Are you right sure about all this, mate?”

“Little late to question that, Ionole.”

The two of you are surrounded by gasoline and firebreaks, and hoses just in case. There’s hardly any space left in the hot, slightly smelly scuttlebuggy you rented for this, so the two of you are crouched on top of the shifting equipment, trying not to hit your heads on anything as it clambers out of town in the early morning light and begins its trek over the dunes.

As far as he knows, you’re only out here to kill zombies. 

He sighs and drags a hand down his face.

“What d’you even need to impress the base for? You’re already blue, mate, don’t get much better than that unless you’re a paintface or empress forbid, a bloody fish.”

Then he swallows.

“Uh, no disrespect meant.”

You snort. He has no idea how much you hate Leoffe.

“Don’t worry about it.”

--

Three Nights Until the Mass Southern Desert Immolation, Station 11

You close out the chat window, pleased if slightly sick that the mediculler Hadean talked about has agreed to help you.

It makes what you’re doing a bit more real, the heat of it a bit closer.

You finish up your battlefield simulations and have to resist the urge to delete all the files. Destroy any trace you were ever here, erase the exercises where you split the focus of your mind control between battalions for different tasks, on screens and in a sickening reality. 

Fleet would know. They’d realize something was off.

You’ll never see this desk again, or this husktop. The base where you’ve spent the last sweep has never been somewhere you’ve liked, a place that took your time, your energy, and your signmate’s will. 

It consumed parts of you, eating away at them like vines at a carcass, and tried to grow its own seeds in their place.

Burning yourself out is too risky, tempting as it is. All you need to do is make sure they’ll never want to use you anymore.

--

Twelve Hours Until the Mass Southern Desert Immolation, Benral Hiveblock

Trying to sleep is hopeless, for all that you need to be well rested to survive the sunlight. You’ve gone over your preparations a hundred times, checked off every list, have every backup in place. You toss and turn in the recuperacoon’s slime, failing to be soothed by its comforting ooze. 

As far as Fleet will ever know, there will be a tragic accident. A second lieutenant having tried to outdo herself in a psychic feat that proved too much for even one of the Lepus bloodline.

Everyone knows your love for daredevil stunts. You’ve made sure in the last week that people seen you dayrun further and further, that it’s gotten back to Cerbet and Ionole and spread among all the trolls on base. 

You’ve made sure that if you don’t survive, Kit will be told and given your things, and Hadean and Riccin notified. You don’t kid yourself that anyone else will really miss you, any more than you would them.

You get up to water your plants, to stroke their leaves and petals and murmur to them, because it helps them grow. Then you go back and finally feel yourself begin to fall asleep.

Whatever you dreamed of that night, you don’t remember.

--

Two Days Until the Mass Southern Desert Immolation, Outdoor Hivestem Walls 

You hug your lusus more tightly than usual, and he sniffs questioningly at you.

“Stick around Kit’s dad for a few nights, okay?” You whisper in his large ears, and they twitch both at your noise and the coolness of your breath.

He understands what you’re saying, even if he’s clearly puzzled as to why. He tries to ask - at least, to nose-nudge you curiously - but you just put a finger to your lips and wiggle your ears.

Stay still and listen. 

One of the first lessons he taught you as a wriggler. 

He chews on your hair, warning you to not do anything too dangerous while he’s away. You ache at his trust in you. Do you deserve it, given what you have planned? He’s been with you through everything, and while the two of you haven’t always been the closest pair, he’s never failed to be there when you need him.

Now you might be tearing away the charge he knows, if not for good, then for a while.

Even if you succeed - if things go as well as they can - he might not know you anymore.

You nearly stain his white fur with blue tears. 

Instead you hug him once more, then let him go, watching as his familiar shape disappears over the sand.

--

Fifteen Minutes Until the Mass Southern Desert Immolation

Everything’s set up - you and Ionole will make sure the fire walls go off in order as the remote-controlled drone you bought lights them, and he has the emergency measures in case empress forbid it spreads. You doubt it could, not with so much sand, but it’s a risk you’d rather not take.

You gaze out of the specially engineered glass screen, vision tinted dark through the protective lenses of your goggles, looking over all the zombies you’ve been herding to this area and trapping here for the last week. It was difficult (you wince at the memory of your several close calls) and you’re about to find out just how tough a reinforced emergency collapsible shelter is.

Ionole pings you that the first of the fires is burning, and the zombies are already scrambling. You grit your teeth and hope against hope that there’s enough gem-studded fuckheads among the others for this to work, that they took the bait you left specifically for them. 

A memory of tiny screaming voices echoes in your auriculars, and you clench your fists.

One sweep ago, you learned the hard way that when you reach into the minds of the dead, something can reach back.

--

Six Hours After the Mass Southern Desert Immolation, Abandoned Jade Cavern

Bluebloods can’t see ghosts, but Ahndai and Kesiol drift in and out of your vision anyway, translucent wisps who try to speak you in garbled chitterings you can’t make any sense of.

You weakly reach for them, but you’re slow, so much slower than you ever remember being. 

They’re outnumbered by darker shapes, indistinct shadowy blobs you don’t recognize, some that hardly have troll features at all. Some sound like they’re crying, others rage and screech at you like a flock of enraged birds. 

You want to roll over and ignore them, but such a Herculean feat is beyond you. Their indistinct voices pour into your flattened ears, and while cool water is blessedly poured down your throat by some mysterious force, the shades still accuse you endlessly, berating you for what you’ve done, filling your head with a dull ache.

Maybe they want you dead, like them.

Whatever.

--

Thirty Seconds Before the Mass Southern Desert Immolation

Your psi aura blazes stronger than any you’ve ever had, your vision swimming with a gold-orange haze. 

You’re vaguely aware of your own body as your awareness rapidly shoots between zombies, linking them all up in a network. You can recognize your pusher’s beat, the wheeze of your air sacs, the distant electricity of your thinkpan, but that’s all.

A current of pure psychic power, you eclipse the mass of undead in seconds, with a single command buzzing in their minds: go into the fires.

Some of them don’t have enough thinkpan left to respond. Some follow your whim in a frenzy. The gem zombies -

get out get out get out

get out get out get out get out

GET OUT G̝̦ ̳̖E̹̰ ̯͇̤͡T̞̬͈̗̲ ͉̥̹̺̲̀Ò̜̟̩̻̻Ù̟̰͚͍ͅͅ ̮͚͇͍T͍̱͕̞̲̱̹

pour back into you, 

clawing, shrieking, ripping 

you flare your psi high, high, forcing them into the inferno

hundreds of corpses

their bodies burn

minds scorch into yours

so you cease.

--

One Day After the Mass Southern Desert Immolation

[ -- SPECIAL FLEET REPORT! ALERT TO ALL HANHAI RESIDENTS! -- ]

While the fires of the Mass Southern Desert Immolation did not burn long, we are still advising residents to be cautious about travel through the affected area as it has agitated the remaining undead who were not culled by the flames, as well as the local wildlife. 

Do not panic! The Empire is watching over you.

[ -- END REPORT -- ]

You blink, then frown, as the phone is held above you and the text scrolled by a dark-skinned finger so you can read it.

“I did that, didn’t I?”

You know your name now, and you think you can remember faces, ones that belong to living trolls. You’re pretty sure they do, anyway.

The mediculler gives you a long, unreadable look without speaking, and for a moment, she looks like the Handmaid again and you flinch.

“Yes, miss Benral. You did.”

[pherryt]

Destiel 28. ‘Stop texting me weird stuff at night.’

This got long. i had this idea but to reach it required so much...i hope you like it.  the rest of it is under the cut

word count 2198

Deangroggily blinked his eyes open and rolled over with a groan. He peered blearilyat his clock and groaned again. His phone – the reason he was awake – chirpedand he sighed, groping at his bedside table for the cursed thing.

Hethumbed it open to find a text from Cas. As usual. Not a night passed that hisbest friend didn’t text Dean at least once – usually about the most inanethings.

Hehadn’t minded so much when they were younger, when his ability to fall backasleep at the drop of a hat was a well-honed godsend that he’d taken forgranted.

Well,not anymore. He would never take it for granted ever again should that skillreturn. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a good night’s sleep and itwas driving him insane, he was sure of it. As much as he loved Cas – somethinghe’d been hiding for at least the last 8 years – come one morning, Dean wasgoing to take a hammer to his phone and then it simply wouldn’t be a problemanymore.

Cas 1:23AM: Did you know that when the Trex animatronic for Jurassic Parkmalfunctioned, it looked like it was alive?

Cas 1:23AM: It did that a lot in the rain which, as you know, was highly crucial forthat iconic scene.

Dean: 1:25AM: Normally Id be all 4 random movie trivia but Cas I need sleep

Dean: 1:26AM: Tell me 2morrow

Cas: 1:26AM: Of course, Dean

Thenext night was the same at almost exactly the same time. And the night afterthat, and the night after that, just like it had been for years before.

“Deandid you know – “

“Iread the other day –“

“Isn’tit amazing how –“

Deancursed the invention of cell phones and his need to keep it nearby foremergencies. During the day, Cas’s texts were a welcome thing but at night hewas losing sleep because of them. After a particularly long day – hell, afucking long week, with his alarm set for way too fucking early in the morning– Dean readied himself for bed. He had a crucial meeting in the morning and hewas so damn exhausted.

Hewas asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Ofcourse, Dean didn’t get to stay asleep. His phone chirped once, twice, threetimes before he fumbled for it. Without even checking Cas’s messages, he simplytyped out.

Dean 2:06AM: Stop texting me weird stuff at night, man – I really need to fucking sleep

Dean 2:06AM: And I can’t do that if you won’t leave me alone

Hedropped the phone to the table and rolled over, firmly closing his eyes. Guiltwracked him and kept him awake, however. He hated being so short with Cas buthe needed to sleep. Cas would understand. Right?

Thephone was blessedly quiet, but it was too late.

Nomatter how long he lay there, Dean couldn’t fall asleep.

Hespent his entire day in a foul mood and a sleepy haze. His coffee maker was broken and when he stopped atDunkin’s he didn’t get two sips of it before he spilled it all over himself andthe Impala. The early morning meeting was nearly a disaster. Only quickthinking on Bobby’s part saved the deal. He dropped his tool box on his footand – well, the day didn’t get much better from there.

Thenext day didn’t pass any better. Despite the fact that Cas didn’t text oncethat night, or the next, Dean found he couldn’t sleep. Between 1 and 2 am,Dean woke with a start, convinced he’d forgotten something very important.

After3 more days of this, it dawned on him that he not only had not heardfrom Cas in the wee hours of the morning as Dean had requested (Demanded wasmore like), but not at any other point of the day either. And Dean missed hisbest friend terribly. It contributed to Dean’s increasingly foul mood and his ever-increasingsleepless nights.

Whyhadn’t Cas messaged him?

Thenagain, why hadn’t Dean?

Dean 3:38PM: Hey dude – movie & pizza nite 2nite? My treat

Dean 4:32PM: U in or what?

Dean 5:17PM: Hey buddy, u Ok? Havent heard from u in a while

Hetyped out the words “I miss you” and deleted them before hitting send at thelast minute, then opening a new text, to Cas’s brother.

Dean 5:20 PM: Hey, is Cas ok?

Ashe waited for a response, so many things ran through his head of what couldhave happened to Cas in the few brief days they hadn’t talked. Or that maybeCas was mad at him. What if Dean had ruined their friendship for good?

Thatthought had him hyperventilating and he had to shove it away.

Gabriel 5:21PM: Why don’t you pull your head of your ass and ask him yourself.

Gabriel 5:21PM: I’m not my brother’s keeper. That’s your job.

Gabriel 5:21PM: Now for the love of god, kiss and make up already. I need my sleep.

Deanstared at his phone. “Well, that was uncalled for,” he grumped aloud to theempty room. What had that been all about? Gabriel made itsound like he and Cas had broken up, but if Dean were dating anybody –especially Cas – he sure as hell would have known that. Had Cas really beenthat upset with Dean? Was it really that bad that Dean just wanted a singlenight worth of uninterrupted sleep? Seriously?

Themore he thought about it, the more it bothered him, till he stood up, grabbedhis jacket and his keys, shoved his feet into his boots and left. 20 minuteslater, he was standing in front of Cas’s door with 2 boxes of pizza and a sixpack. He shuffled till he could use his hand to knock and did so.

Therewas silence for a while and Dean knocked again, wondering if this had been agood idea. There wasn’t even any guarantee that Cas was home (He worked fromhome. He had to be home) and he hadn’t answered any of Dean’s texts.

Deanknocked for a third time and finally he heard movement. He breathed a sigh ofrelief that lasted only as long as it took for Cas to open the door.

“Fuck!You look like shit!” he blurted.

“Thankyou. So do you.” Cas’s voice was flat as he opened the door further. He didn’tmove out of the way. “What are you doing here?”

“Look,wanted to apologize for the other night and hey, man, I missed ya! So what doyou say? Pizza? Beers? Netflix?” Dean waggled his eyebrows at Cas and the smallhint of a smile appeared as the man let him in.

Deantoed off his boots and didn’t even bother bringing anything in to the kitchen.He headed straight for the couch and placed the boxes and the beers on the beat-upcoffee table. Netflix was already on, and it looked like Cas had been binge-watching…Deansquinted at the tv…Reality TV? Oh boy, things were worse than he thought.

Hesat on the couch beside Cas who was already curled up in a blanket and a sliceof pizza – sans plates – in his hand. The man looked exhausted, ragged. Deanknew he kept his own hours. Being able to work from home helped with that, butwhat the hell?

“Dude,haven’t you been sleeping?”

“Notreally. What about you?”

“God,I’d kill for a decent night’s sleep. I can’t remember the last time I had one.”

“So…mytexting at odd hours…when I stopped…?”

“Didn’tfucking help. Now I wake up waiting for them. Isn’t that weird? I wake up andstare at the ceiling and I can’t even get back to sleep afterwards. At leastwhen you texted me I could fall back asleep.” Dean admitted with a sigh, grabbing two of thebeers. He used the coffee table to pop the tops off and handed one over to Cas.“It didn’t help a damnbit, so, you can, y’know, if you want…”

“Dean, are you’re sayingyou missed me?” Cas said, his mouth full of pizza as his other hand acceptedthe beer.

“Dude,you must be more tired than I am. I said that when I walked in,” Dean took aswig of his own bottle, stillcold since he’d just picked it up. “Look, I know why I’m tired. What about you?And what was Gabriel talking about? That he needed sleep?”

“You texted my brother?” Cas blinked atDean in surprise. Dean blushed.

“You weren’t answerin’, Cas. I was uh…alittle concerned,” Dean said, not looking at Cas. He took a huge bite of hispizza.

Despite his attempts to not look, Deanstill caught Cas looking at him incredulously out of the corner of his eyes. “Haven’tyou ever wondered why I send you messages at all hours of the day?”

“Um…no? I mean, its what you’ve alwaysdone, so I just…it’s you,” Dean said,his words garbled because of the pizza. He turned to face Cas. “I just came toexpect it. Hell, most of the time, I was really looking forward to it. One ofyour crazy texts can turn a bad day right side up again. I just…I thought that’show it was.” Dean ended the statement slowly, swallowing the lump of cheese,dough and sauce in his throat. “Cas, is something wrong?”

If he’d felt guilty before, Dean feltextra guilty now. The way Cas had asked the question had made Dean reevaluate everythingin a flash. It was odd, now that he thought about it, to be texting or callingat any hour. Even though Dean knew Cas kept his own hours…when did he sleep?

Cas shook his head and smiled. “No,everything’s fine. Just been a rough few days, that’s all.” After that, thematter dropped and the two of them ate their pizza and watched Netflix.

Dean didn’t know what time it was whenhe jerked awake. The room was dark and there was something warm on top of him.He pulled the warmth closer, realizing as it shifted that it wasn’t his blanket,but Cas. They were both so fucking tired, they’d fallen asleep on the couch. Hestifled a laugh. He wasn’t sure what to do. He felt awkward basically cuddlinga man that didn’t know Dean had a crush on him. But on the other hand, he didn’twant to wake cas up. It was obvious that he needed his sleep as much as Deandid. As he debated the idea, Dean’s heavy eyelids drifted shut, his bodytabling the dilemma for now.

A jerking motion had him waking upagain, much later, according to the clock, about 1am. Dean’s grip on Cas tightenedand then he heard it – Cas was breathing hard, small whimpers pulling from histhroat.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice was still sleepy,but concerned. Rolling carefully, Dean tried to peer into his face. “Cas, areyou all right?” Dean reached a hand up to touch Cas’s face and his friends eyesflew open on a gasp. He jerked back and would have fallen off the narrow couchsave for Dean’s quick reflexes. He rolled to his back, bringing Cas with him,helping him settle face own on top of Dean. Cas groaned and let his head thunkon Dean’s chest.

After a moment, he tilted it to peer atDean apologetically. “I’m sorry, Dean. I didn’t mean to wake you. I know you’retired – “

“Dude…I saw the clock – do you wake upat this time every night like this?”

“Not…always…” Cas’s eyes slid away. “SometimesI’m already awake. Or…”

“Or?” Dean prodded.

“It uh…happens a lot. Sometimes a fewtimes a night.” Cas admitted slowly. Dean wondered if he would have, if he’dbeen rested.

“Shit, no wonder you look exhausted! Howlong - ?”

“Since I was a child. And no, going tothe doctor didn’t help. Taking sleeping pills doesn’t help either. It’s just…baddreams, old memories,” Cas said tiredly, sadly. Without even realizing it, Dean’shand started stroking Cas’s back and he watched those sleepy eyes start to droop.

“Does anything help?”

“Mhmm,” Cas said.

“What do you need?”

“Fss,” Cas said.

“What?” Dean blinked and strained hisears. That was certainly not English, he was sure of it.

“Jus’ you,” Cas mumbled a littleclearer. “’s always been you.”

Dean’s heart skipped a beat and hisnext breath was shaky. “Wait, is that why you always—”

“Mhmm,” Cas curled into Dean a littlecloser, completely unaware of how he’d taken the mans breath away by that one,simple sound. He continued to run a soothing hand along Cas’s spine and stareddown at the man quickly falling back asleep in his arms. “Don’ leave me…”

The last words came out slow and softand Dean almost missed them. His heart ached and he swallowed thickly. “Never,Cas. I promise.”

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @anyberry!

Merry Christmas Berry! I hope you have a wonderful festive season and I hope you enjoy this Stereky goodness. Love from your Secret Santa

*****

Stiles really hated lacrosse, despite the fact that he was on the lacrosse team. In fact, Stiles probably hated lacrosse mostly because he was on the lacrosse team. It was a perfectly reasonable if slightly nonsensical sport back when he was sitting on the bleachers watching other people run around trying to throw a ball into a netted goal with the aid of another, smaller net at the end of a stick. But now that he was one of those people he was finding it significantly less reasonable.

And the most unreasonable thing about lacrosse? Summer practice sessions. Stiles never would’ve joined the team if he’d known about summer practice sessions. Stiles was expecting after-school practice, it goes with the territory of playing a school sport. He could deal with weekend practice, grumpily, because he could see the benefit of extra training before big, important games.

But summer training? When they wouldn’t actually have a game, important or otherwise, for at least another two months? When he wasn’t even sure he’d make the team again in his junior year? Lunacy. Absolute lunacy.

Which was not really that surprising considering Coach Finstock was a lunatic. But Stiles hadn’t known that when he’d let Scott beg and plead and puppy-dog-eye him into signing up for tryouts last year.

And now he was paying the price for his ignorance. During summer.

“I hate you so much right now,” Stiles muttered to Scott as they packed up their gear, the rest of the team plodding past them towards the locker room.

“Aw c’mon, it’s not that bad! Doesn’t it make you feel alive, being out here, under the sun, feeling the grass beneath your feet and the wind against your face and the solid weight of your crosse in your hands?” Scott said, grin lopsided, arms open wide toward the pitch before them.

Stiles stared at him for a while, because he felt he needed to.

Then, “No.”

There was a noise from behind him and Stiles turned to see the back of Derek Hale moving toward the low, squat wing of the school that housed the locker rooms. If Stiles didn’t know better he might’ve thought Derek had laughed. In reality Derek probably just had gas.

Turning back to Scott he continued, “No, it makes me feel the opposite of alive, because the sun is burning the shit out of my lily white Polish ass, the grass is generally beneath my face not my feet, the wind is usually getting pounded out of my lungs, and I’m far more likely to feel the weight of other dudes’ crosses getting smacked into me.”

Scott gaped at him.

“You realise that sounded, like, aggressively sexual, right?”

“Oh shut the fuck up,” Stiles grunted, and he hauled his bag over his shoulder, stomping off to the locker room.

***

Apart from unreasonable training schedules, the locker room was the worst thing about lacrosse. Or, more specifically, it was the worst place to have to be, three times a week, during summer, when one was possibly maybe potentially having a small sexuality crisis.

Not that Stiles felt that there was a major crisis to be had. He was 98.3% certain that his dad and his grandma and Scott and Scott’s mom would all be completely accepting of a potentially not-straight Stiles. And Stiles knew he was extremely lucky in that sense, and he was grateful. But still, that 1.7% was enough to keep him up at night.

And it wasn’t as though Stiles really, deeply cared about what other people thought of him, outside of those four that really mattered. But still, he wasn’t naive and he was extremely aware that homophobia was well and truly alive in modern America. Particularly within hyper-masculine environments such as high school locker rooms.

And the most crisis-inducing aspect of Stiles’ not-major and yet also not-insignificant sexuality crisis was the simple fact that Stiles was not who he thought he was. And that’s not at all a bad thing, but it is a confronting thing. Thinking that you knew who you were, that you have known who you are for years, and then slowly realizing that you don’t, in fact, know yourself inside and out. To be certain and then to be suddenly not, it was overwhelming. It felt raw and jangly and new underneath his skin.

So Stiles felt edgy enough as it was, and all those male abs and backs and thighs in the locker room, three times a week, during summer, were doing nothing to help his already frayed nerves.

Stiles faffed and fiddled around his locker, double-checking he had his helmet, carefully wiping off his pads, until most of the rest of the team had finished in the showers. It basically guaranteed that there would be no hot water left for him, but it was worth a cold shower if it meant he wouldn’t be surrounded by naked dudes on all sides. Plus it was the middle of summer, Stiles could not stress this enough, and who was wanting a hot shower anyway?

When he could hear only two or three other people moving around the dark, humid room Stiles stripped the rest of his clothes off and grabbed his towel.

He spent a while in the shower, letting the lukewarm water soothe both his aching muscles and the stinging-hot parts of his skin that were exposed to the sun for too long. He was in there long enough that Scott shouted his goodbyes and left without him, but Stiles didn’t mind. He’d catch up with Scott later, probably to annihilate him in a virtual world. The undisputed natural and proper way to be spending summer vacation.

Once Stiles towelled off he headed for the door and blessed freedom, feeling relief and jubilation, planning to reward himself with an ice cold milkshake on the way home, the rest of that fine summer's day stretched sweet and sticky before him and -

The doorknob wouldn’t turn.

Stiles tried it again.

It still wouldn’t turn. It remained unmoved and unforgiving, like Coach Finstock when Stiles tried to weasel his way out of running suicides.

Stiles rattled and pushed and pulled and still the doorknob wouldn’t turn and the door stayed shut.

“Fuck!” Stiles shouted and kicked the closed door. Which, in hindsight, was a thoroughly idiotic move, so Stiles cursed some more as he hopped around on one foot, a hand clutching at the toe of his other sneaker.

“What’s going on?”

Stiles froze at the voice behind him. Because he knew that voice. And he should’ve known that horrible, embarrassing things come in threes. The locked door, his crumpled toes, and now…

“Derek!” Stiles squeaked.

It hadn’t started out as a squeak. But then Stiles had turned around halfway through the word to find Derek Hale, half-naked and wet, staring at him with furrowed eyebrows. His dark hair was plastered to his forehead, water droplets were gliding down his shoulders, his pale eyes seemed even paler in the dim light of the room, and a towel, a tiny scrap of material wrapped around Derek’s hips, was the only thing saving both Derek’s dignity and Stiles’ sanity.

“Uh,” Stiles said, super intelligently.

And then he just stared at Derek. Naked Derek. He ogled, there was no denying it. He was ogling, and he made himself stop.

“Stiles? What’s going on?” Derek repeated.

“The door’s locked,” Stiles mumbled at the floor.

“What.”

“The door,” Stiles said, slightly louder, no less squeaky. “It is locked. The way is shut. We shall not pass.” And he flailed with one hand to emphasize his point.

“What,” Derek said again, the same word, but entirely different.

He strode forward and Stiles made a garbled sound in the back of his throat, backing himself into the wall next to the door.

Derek grabbed the door handle, twisting it and pulling it, like he thought Stiles was lying to him, or like he thought his superior lacrosse captain strength would prevail where all others before him had failed.

But the door, surprise of all surprises, was still fucking locked.

Derek kept trying to open it though, and he was starting to look panicked, and his breath was beginning to rush in and out of him like frantic waves against a stormy shore.

“Dude,” Stiles said, but Derek either ignored him or couldn’t hear him at all. “Derek.” He put a hand on Derek’s warm, broad shoulder.

Derek stilled, and he looked at Stiles, and he suddenly seemed to notice that he was more or less caging Stiles in against the wall while he fruitlessly pulled at the door handle, and then an even more panicked expression passed across his face and he jumped, literally jumped, backwards.

Stiles held his hands up like he was trying to calm a wild animal, because it felt like he was trying to calm a wild animal. There was something extremely wild about the way Derek was looking at him.

“Hey,” Stiles started softly. “Are you okay? Are you claustrophobic? I have panic attacks sometimes, I could help you through some breathing exercises if you want,” he said, making his hands and his voice as gentle as he could.

Derek was clutching his towel with both hands like it was a liferaft, and at Stiles words his expression shifted, becoming no less panicked but now somehow longing too, like Stiles was the liferaft, and he couldn’t quite reach.

He took two deep breaths and Stiles could see him visibly trying to calm himself.

“I’m fine,” he said, but Stiles could hear the strained hoarseness of his voice.

“How about this,” Stiles said, his brain clicking into gear, “you dry off and get dressed and I’ll make some calls, see if I can get someone to come get us out of here.” Doing something proactive, something physical, working towards a goal always helped Stiles when he felt a panic attack coming on.

“Okay,” Derek said shakily and turned to go to his locker. Just as he was about to round the corner he glanced back at Stiles over his shoulder, and the same panicked, longing look swept over his features again.

Stiles swiped open his phone with determination. It was just his goddamn rotten luck that he gets trapped inside the boys locker room, during summer, with the one person who was possibly maybe potentially responsible for kicking off Stiles’ not-major and yet also not-insignificant sexuality crisis in the first place. Jesus.

Stiles tried Coach Finstock first, because he had Coach Finstock’s number, because Coach Finstock insisted on each of his players having his phone number and him having theirs in return, because Coach Finstock was a lunatic.

And in keeping with Stiles’ luck, Coach Finstock didn’t answer.

Next Stiles tried his dad, and because his dad was a steady, solid, dependable presence in Stiles’ life he did answer his phone. Of course he spent the first three minutes of the conversation laughing himself to tears about the newest ridiculous predicament that Stiles had found himself in, but after that he came through.

The Sheriff promised that he would try to track down someone with a set of keys to the school locker rooms, and failing that he would send over a locksmith to get them out. It might take awhile, but Stiles and Derek had access to running water and working toilet facilities, and Stiles was pretty sure he had a flattened Cliff Bar or two floating around in the bottom of his bag somewhere, so they could survive in there for a good few hours.

Sure, it wasn’t an ideal way to waste a day of vacation, but things could be worse. And Stiles could be stuck with far worse survival buddies than Derek Hale. All in all Stiles was feeling pretty positive about their situation.

Until he went in search of his survival buddy and overheard Derek on the phone.

“God, why did it have to be him?” Derek was whispering desperately to someone on the other end of the call. “Out of all the guys on the team why did I have to get trapped in here with Stiles fucking Stilinski.”

***

It took about half an hour but eventually Derek came looking for him.

He found Stiles sat on the cool tile floor, back against the wall, arms curled around his legs and his chin resting on his knee.

He looked confused, and a little bit hurt, but Stiles couldn’t be bothered wondering why that was. Stiles’ stomach still felt all hollowed out and empty, his fingers still tingled with humiliation and unspoken rejection.

Worst of all was the cavernous feeling inside his chest where his bruised heart bounced and echoed around.

In all honesty he never truly believed he ever stood a chance with Derek. Derek Hale was handsome and popular, respected by his teachers and revered by his peers. He was as intelligent as he was athletically gifted, he volunteered at the local animal shelter in his spare time, and he loved his family unabashedly. And he knew who Stiles was. By name, even. Sometimes he’d stop and give Stiles little tips about hand placement and throwing technique when they were on the field during practice, and he always nodded at Stiles when they passed each other in the hallways.

So although it was fun to fantasize, to daydream about holding Derek’s hand, Stiles never honestly believed Derek would ever want to date him.

He had thought they’d been sort of friends, though. Friendly teammates at least. And to hear Derek say his name with such utter anguish, like being forced to spend time with him was the worst punishment in the world, was a fist to the gut that Stiles was entirely unprepared for.

“Where have you been?” Derek asked, and it was such a stupid question that it punched an ugly laugh out of Stiles’ throat.

“I’ve been here,” Stiles replied slowly. “Locked inside the locker room.”

A hint of a smile began to grow on Derek’s lips, but it withered quickly at the sarcasm in Stiles’ voice.

“Well, yeah, obviously,” Derek said. He looked at Stiles in confusion. “I meant, why didn’t you come back to m- um, why didn’t you come and tell me what’s going to happen. Is someone coming to get us out?”

“Yeah, my dad’s working on it.”

Derek nodded.

And then when he seemed to be waiting for more Stiles just couldn’t help adding, bitterly, “And I thought I’d give you some space, seeing as how you wish you weren’t trapped in here with Stiles fucking Stilinski.”

Stiles had never seen Derek’s face get so pale so quickly. In fact, he didn’t think he’d even seen Derek’s face go pale at all.

“You heard that?” Derek asked, and he sounded pained.

“Yep,” Stiles said, popping the P, because his assholish tendencies kick into overdrive when he feels hurt.

“It’s not what you think, I swear.” Derek sounded urgent and he crouched down onto his knees in front of Stiles.

“Really?” Stiles hated it, but he couldn’t help the way his voice went all high and disbelieving. “Because it sounded like being alone with me was the worst possible torment you could ever face. And that’s a real ego boost, dude, thanks.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Derek was wringing his hands at this point.

Stiles just raised his eyebrows as if to say, ‘please, do go on’.

Derek sighed, then squared his shoulders.

“The truth is, I like you.”

Stiles snorted. A real, guttural, wholly unattractive snort. “Could’ve fooled me, dude.”

“I’m being serious, doucheface.”

And didn’t that make Stiles sit up and listen. When he finally looked Derek full in the face he could see that Derek was serious. Also kind of pissed, but mostly just very sincere.

“I like you, Stiles. A lot. Probably more than I should considering you’ve never shown any interest in anyone outside of Lydia Martin. But,” and here Derek shrugged helplessly, looking away from Stiles for the first time, “I guess we don’t have much control over these sorts of things.”

Stiles was so shocked he lost the rigid control he’d had over his body, arms unfolding and legs flopping down onto the floor.

Derek’s cheeks were pink, as were his adorable, small, sticky-out ears. He wasn’t making eye-contact and he was picking at a hangnail on one of his fingers.

“Really?”

Derek sighed and glared at him, but hey, at least he was looking at Stiles again.

“Right, sorry, stupid. What I’m trying to say is, I like you too.”

Derek’s mouth dropped open. Stiles could see bunny teeth.

“Yeah,” Stiles said with a spreading grin, slow and unstoppable. “You’re adorable as hell and I like you.”

Derek leaned closer to him, and Stiles knew what was coming and the air shivered inside his lungs. The meeting of their lips was slow and dry and impossibly sweet. It was a soft kiss, quiet, and it spread through Stiles like the most delicate breeze, soothing the raw parts of him, silencing the jangling. It was still new, but it felt right, and instead of feeling like he didn’t know himself this felt like greeting an old friend.

Derek pulled away from him when Stiles’ smile became too wide, rather than continuing to awkwardly kiss his teeth.

“I knew summer practice sessions were one of my greater ideas,” he sighed.

“Wait, what?” Stiles squawked.

***

Stiles and Derek were finally released from the locker room after a couple of hours, a severe tongue-lashing from Stiles, and then a different kind of tongue-lashing altogether. The audience to their triumphant emergence included Stiles’ dad, Scott, Coach Finstock, a good half of Derek’s extended family, and a random locksmith.

If Stiles had known they’d attract so many spectators he probably wouldn’t have tumbled out of the door holding Derek’s hand and trying to bite his ear. As it was, Stiles’ coming out of the closet moment was a lot more literal than expected.

That 1.7% had Stiles freezing in fear, but his dad gave Stiles a knowing smirk, Scott gave him a perfectly indiscreet double thumbs up, and Laura Hale cheered “I knew it!” and snapped a photo.

[caramel-and-pine]

13 - Break and Trust

David has seen all kinds of emotions playing on Gwen’s face on the many years they’ve known each other. He’s seen varying degrees of frustration back at Camp Campbell, the despair without precedents on the morning they lost Max, the joy of finally getting a job in the area she wanted to work in. They have been together through thick and thin and not once has he seen such a convoluted expression on her face.

As David’s words sink in Gwen’s expression mutates. First, her eyes narrow in confusion just to slowly widen in surprise. Her mouth opens a little as if she is about to say something, but it snaps shut with a click. For about three seconds her eyebrows flutter, high and low, as she goes through shock and relief until a definitive emotion settles in.

Her face hardens and this expression David knows. It is betrayal. He’s seen it before, but never in such a raw and powerful state. Gwen stands up slowly, her face set in stone: eyes slightly narrowed, eyebrows tilted in an angry angle, lip tight. The tear tracks on her cheeks shine when the light reflects upon them but she doesn’t care enough to wipe them up. She turns her body to fully face David.

She practically telegraphs her next action. The twist on her waist and shoulders, the line of her spine extending to her arm. Her hand open and rigid. The strike comes fast but David has seen it coming, and he accepts it. He knows he deserves it and despite being able to defend himself from the hit he takes it.

Gwen’s hand makes a deafening noise as it connects with David’s face, turning it away from her with the force of the impact.

It stings badly, he feels heat surging to the surface of his cheek in the shape of Gwen’s hand. Tears well up in his eyes but he knows they are not from the physical pain. He keeps his eyes averted and breathes deeply to avoid spilling them.

“You found him?!” Gwen’s tone is accusatory now, her voice raw. “You fucking found him and you didn’t tell me? What the fuck, David? Were you so upset that I’ve given up that you decided to deny me this closure? I… I… what the fuck…?”

Gwen dissolves into tears once more. She sobs loudly and her shoulders shake with each ragged breath she takes. Her face is full of rightful anger and David wants to hold her but he can’t face her yet, his own tears soaking his cheeks now. She deserves this moment of rage as much as he deserves to be the target of said anger.

“I am sorry, Gwen,” he says in a small voice. “It hurt me not to tell you, but he asked me. He begged me not to tell you yet. I am sorry.”

David is surprised when Gwen leaps forward and burrows in his chest. She is still crying but her little hiccups hide different words now.

“He is alive, he is well, right? You’ve talked to him? Please, David, I’ve shared this burden with you for so long, give me some peace now. Please.”

David holds her tightly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back.

“Yes, I’ve talked to him. We’ve met a few times, actually,” he tells her in a garbled voice. “He is a man now, Gwen. An adult, do you believe it? He’s still a shorty, though.”

Gwen laughs at this and pulls away a little. Her face is a mess of tears, blotchy and wet, but a small smile is forming and David is glad for it.

“What the fuck,” she says but her tone is light. “How? Where? Please…”

David shifts a little so Gwen can sit back on her chair and he moves around to sit on his own before speaking again. She wipes her face on the napkin and takes a sip of the wine to calm down. When she is once again composed she turns her full attention to him.

“Now you’ve dropped the biggest bomb go ahead and tell me everything, please,” she asks with a trace of command in her voice. He owes this to her and she knows it, and she will use it to her advantage. “And why didn’t he want me to know about him? Does he… hate me?”

“Oh, no, he doesn’t!” David shakes his hands in a placating manner. “He doesn’t hate you, Gwen. He, well, he is in a situation… He… you see…”

“David!” She calls with an authoritative voice. “You’re stalling, what is the problem?”

“Do you remember the last time we went out?” David opts for a less direct approach. Gwen raises her eyebrow but nods an affirmative anyway. “So, after you left I stayed a little more and the night performance started and in the end, they were introducing the dancers and…” David takes a deep breath, “Max was one of them.”

Gwen’s face is a perfect blank canvas for what feels like hours.

“He what?” She squeaks the question, a mix of shock and horror and a bit of amusement on her face.

“He was one of the dancers, he works at that strip club,” David’s face burns as he tells her. “I met him for the first time that night and we talked and when I said you were there too he panicked a little. When I said you weren’t there anymore and that you hadn’t seen him yet he asked me not to tell you. I think he was afraid of your reaction, or something like this.”

“Oh, that little shit,” Gwen says all too fondly. “Did he really think I would care about his dancing after we’ve spent ten years looking for him?”

David rubs the back of his neck. “Well, it is not only dancing,” he says averting his eyes. “He works there. He strips, and receives clients,” David’s intonation is enough to cue Gwen on what he means. She frowns for a moment.

“Oh, this is… unexpected.”

“Yes,” David agrees weakly. “And you know him, he doesn’t like showing weakness or fragility and this is a very delicate situation. He couldn’t deny it to me since I saw him there first hand, but I guess he wanted to avoid exposing himself even more by telling you.”

Gwen looks down at her plate. The food isn’t hot anymore but she is starving after work so she takes another bite despite it being cold. She chews slowly, considering David’s words in her mind.

“Did you meet him outside that club?”

“Yeah,” David squeaks in reply, face quickly turning red. He might have spilled the beans about finding Max but he definitely won't tell her about what kind of relationship they've been building on those few weeks. Gwen raises an eyebrow at him.

“And how was it?”

“Good,” David replies all too fast. “It was good. We had lunch together and talked a lot. He has a sister and shares an apartment with a nice girl named Christine.”

“Is she his girlfriend?”

“No, he said they tried but it didn’t work out so they decided to continue as friends.”

They share a smile, both deeply familiar with this situation.

“So he has friends,” Gwen says with a satisfied smile.

“At least one, yes,” David says. “Well, two I guess,” he adds pensively. “I think I am his friend now too.”

Gwen smiles fondly. “And it only took you ten years and a kidnapping of sorts.”

“Worth it,” David says softly, his heart warming up at the memory of sharing the morning with Max after their night together.

“Did you get to meet his sister too?” Gwen asks.

“No, she studies in a Catholic school for girls,” David explains. “Max enrolled her there himself. He said he wants to give her better opportunities than the ones he had.”

Gwen whistles. “Wow, he did grow up, hun?”

“He did,” David’s expression melts into something very warm and soft. “He is mature and generous and kind, the way I’ve always known he could be. He is still terrible, though,” he adds with a little eye roll.

“I hope I can meet him one day too,” Gwen says, wiping the last remnants of tears from her face.

***

Telling Gwen about Max is simultaneously the best and the worst thing David’s ever done. If on one hand he feels lighter because now he knows Gwen is at peace; on the other his stomach is a continuous pit of dread as he considers Max’s possible reactions to this. After dinner Gwen promised not to try to contact Max on her own, so David is somewhat calm, confident that he’ll figure out how to talk to Max about it.

The rest of the week goes on a rush. David is busy with some projects, he is spending a lot of time working on his portfolio, and he is exchanging a lot of emails with magazines editors to improve his network. All in all, he doesn’t have as much free time as he used to but working gives him purpose and energy so he does it happily. The only downside is that it is Saturday night and he can’t go to The Fruit Bowl to see Max.

He misses Max, and the realization is odd. He is used to having a Max shaped hole in his heart after those ten years looking for him, but it is different now. Before, this hole was filled with worries and terrible fantasies; now it is full of soft thoughts and care and desire. It is oddly titillating and pretty distracting but he manages to keep it in check in order to focus on his work.

David is watching the loading icon on his screen when his phone rings. It is a message from Max asking him if he’d go to the bar that night. With a little sad frown, David replies that he doesn’t have time and that he probably wouldn’t be able to go there on the whole weekend. A few seconds later a new message arrives.

From: Max maybe this will change ur mind? *attached file*

David sees the blurry preview of the photo and his mouth already starts to water. He taps the icon on the screen and watches it loading full of expectative. When the full image loads his breath hitches a little and heat surges to his face.

It is a selfie taken in the full-length mirror in the bathroom at The Fruit Bowl. Max stands in front of it with a wide stance, powerful and confident. His usual bad boy smirk in place as he stares at the mirror from over the lenses of sunglasses. He is wearing ridiculously tight white pants and his black leather jacket over his exposed chest. David makes a little helpless noise when he sees the spiky choker around his neck.

He loses sense of time staring at the photo but another ring from his phone brings him back to reality.

From: Max did u like it? christine chose it for this night’s performance

To: Max She has good taste

From: Max loser *eye roll emoji*

David stares at the phone with a smile. Loser seems to be a term of endearment on Max’s personal language. At least that’s what David likes to think, considering just how frequently Max calls him that.

To: Max You’re very handsome But I am very busy

To: Max *sad emoji*

From: Max rly? i was expecting to see u this weekend

From: Max i kinda miss u

David’s face opens in a wide smile, it reaches his eyes and makes his entire expression glow. His heart once again flutters pathetically and he looks at the clock as he tries to figure out how to make some extra time to go to the bar meet Max. Unfortunately, he just can’t find these elusive moments so he just sighs frustratedly before writing his reply.

To: Max I am sorry *sad emoji* Can we have lunch again next week?

After a beat he composes a second message:

To: Max I miss you, too

From: Max monday is my day off but u have to go w/ me to the laundromat

From: Max i promised chris id do the laundry *frown emoji*

To: Max Is 1 pm good?

From: Max sure

To: Max So, it is a date?

From: Max *attached file*

David clicks the icon in the speed of light. It is another selfie, but this time directly from the front camera and not on the mirror. The light is bad but David clearly sees a blush on Max’s cheeks as he half covers his face and his smile. There is a black stripe across the image with a white text in capital letters in it: YES U LOSER.

From: David *pine tree* *attached file*

Max’s face is still burning when he opens David’s photo. What is happening to him? Since when is he mushy and silly like this? He’s sent his fair share of nudes and provocative pictures to previous partners but never something as… sweet as this. David brings something different in him, something soft and good. Max is not used to the feeling but he likes it, and he likes the idea of experiencing it more often.

When David’s image opens up Max unconsciously coos at it. It is David with his lips pursed in a kiss, eyes shut tight and eyebrows lightly furrowed. It is painfully adorable and Max genuinely considers deleting it because he knows otherwise he will spend hours looking at it every day. There is a text on a black stripe, too: See you Monday!!! *kiss emoji*

Max saves the image as David’s profile picture.

***

“Hi, David, is everything right for today?” Max’s voice sounds strange on the phone, a bit more shrilly almost like it used to be when he was young.

“Hi, Max,” David can’t help the smile as he speaks. “Yes, it is. Is everything okay for you?”

A pause, then Max laughs a little airy laugh.

“Yes, it is just that last time I didn’t confirm and you were worried,” he trails off. “I thought it would be good to call today.”

“Oh, Max,” David’s smile turns softer. “Thank you for calling, I know you don’t like phone calls all that much.”

Max clicks his tongue. “Yeah… I’ll send you the address of the laundromat when I arrive there, ok? I don’t know it by heart,” he explains.

“It is okay, I will wait,” a beat of silence. “I’m really happy to meet you again,” David says in a very low, timid, voice.

“Me too,” Max’s reply is even lower. “See you in a while,” he says with more conviction and turns off the phone as soon as David says bye.

It is a little before noon when Max calls, and David is eating lunch by himself in his small kitchen. Suddenly, the apprehension of seeing Max returns. He knows he must tell Max about Gwen, it is only fair; but he doesn’t know how to approach the subject. He is deeply afraid that Max will get so angry at him that he will vanish again. This time for good.

David doesn’t want to lie or hide things from Max, but the idea of losing him again is even more painful. In those few weeks, he has grown used to the idea of the young man being part of his life, in a way no one else ever could. Max has been a constant, a painful one, and now he has the chance to turn ten years of pain into something good. He doesn’t want to lose it.

A sour taste settles on the back of David’s mouth. He finishes his food forcefully, the pleasure of the meal gone under the weight of his worries. Tell or not? Lie or trust? Maybe now that he and Max are in such good terms, to say the least, the young man will be more open to Gwen. Maybe David is just overthinking this and ruining his appetite for naught.

As he cleans the kitchen this new perspective grows stronger. Max likes him, on some level for sure, so he might accept this. Maybe they will discuss a little, and David is ready to apologize as much as he needs and offer any kind of compensation Max deems necessary. It will work out fine, he tells himself with much more confidence than he actually feels.

David’s phone rings with an incoming message when he is in the shower, it is the location of the laundromat. Max sent it on Whatsapp and followed it with a selfie of him carrying a big bag of clothes and frowning. David smiles and replies with a message saying he is on his way. Luckily the traffic is good and it is 1 pm sharp when he arrives at the place.

The laundromat is small, only a handful of washing machines and dryers lining up the wall, and other than he and Max only a teenage girl is there. The girl is using headphones and sitting on one of the machines while reading a magazine and completely ignoring both men.

When David enters the place Max waves at him with a satisfied smile. David approaches casually, debating whether it was appropriate to kiss Max or no. Their last farewell had been very affectionate and the texting was playful and intimate, but he doesn’t want to pressure or force things. His internal struggle is put to rest when Max goes on his tiptoes and softly kisses him on the lips.

“Hi,” Max greets him with a coy smile. “You are early.”

“In fact, I’m right on time,” David says with a soft expression. “The traffic was good.”

“Good,” Max steps back and turns his attention at the pile of dirty laundry at his feet. “Christine usually does this but she is busy with her commissions and I want to help her,” Max says eyeing the clothes with suspicion. “I don’t have any idea about what is going on here. She gave me a lot of instructions and I am afraid if I just throw everything on the machine at once she will know it and skin me.”

David laughs through his nose. “She will probably know if you do this,” he agrees. “She is very good with clothes after all.”

“She said something about colors and whites? And here I thought white was a color too,” he frowns and lightly kicks the pile on the floor.

“Don’t worry, I can help you,” David says already kneeling on the floor to put the white clothes in a separate pile. “The whites need hot water and usually take more time to wash, while the colors go with cold water and wash faster,” he explains.

Max hums, a neutral sound that just indicates that he is paying attention. Regardless, he kneels by David’s side and starts to separate the clothes with him. Once they have all the clothes sorted out David takes the white clothes to one of the machines and dumps them there. Max watches over his shoulder as he sets the machine to the right temperature and adds soap and softener to the correct places.

“Thanks, David,” Max says, rubbing the back of his neck. David can’t resist and does the same, running his hand on the shaved hair on Max’s nape. It is still soft and nice. Max shivers a little.

“So, how was your weekend?” David asks when Max sits up on the machine. David leans on the dryer beside it and Max is just high enough to rest his face on David’s shoulder like this.

“Tiresome,” Max says. “Chris is a nasty dance teacher, she is super excited with the new performance. Sadly, I and the other guys are paying for it.”

“Other guys?” David tilts his head a little.

“Yeah, Chris and I are not the only performers at the bar,” Max says. “I thought you had seen them on that first night.”

Oh yeah, now David remembers them vaguely. A group of four or five men had danced with Christine on that first night; Max was one of them but David has no idea about the others. Much of that first night has become a blur in David’s memory. The shock of finding Max was strong and their first interaction wasn’t very good. David remembers Gwen, and the distress from earlier rises again.

“Oh, yeah, I remember,” he says with a squeaky voice. His spine goes rigid and too straight, his shoulders tense and Max, whose head is resting on it, notices immediately.

“Are you okay?” Max asks with a deep frown.

“Ah, yes, I okay,” David says without much coherency.

Max leans away and looks at him directly on the eyes. “You look kinda pale? I mean, more than normal?”

“I just… Say, do you remember that Gwen was the one who took me to the bar on that first night?”

The apparent change of topic takes Max by surprise. He furrows his eyebrows a little but nods anyway. “Yeah, what of it?”

“Don’t you think it is curious that we’ve only met again because of her?”

“I still think it is curious that Gwen would be in a place like the Bowl,” he shrugs. “But she does she, I guess.”

“Well, she likes trying new places,” David says, his voice still strained, a forced cheer on it that sounds particularly bad on him. “She is very open-minded, you know? And she always tries to see from other people’s perspectives, and to understand the other side of the story…”

“Why are you saying this?” Max’s voice is full of suspicion.

“Because she is a good person,” David’s face twists in a mix of shame and pain, all pretense of cheerfulness gone. “And she cares about you and deserves to meet you…”

Max is staring at him with a deep frown and David shuts up with a choked sound. They look at each other for a long moment, the noise of the washing machine working is deafening on the still air. Max’s face is set in stone, eyes narrow and lips tight. After a long moment, David can’t sustain his stare anymore; he turns his face a little and that’s when Max’s face crumbles.

“You’ve already told her,” Max says slowly, disbelief plain on his face. “It asked you not to and you did.”

“Max, I am so sorry!” David says quickly, he turns around so he can stay right in front of the younger man. “I am so, so sorry but she was crying and I despaired and I told her.”

“What the fuck, David?!” Max hops of the machine and stares at David with so much hurt and hatred in his eyes that David feels very small despite the many inches he has over Max. “You didn’t have this right! I thought you liked me, I thought you respected me!”

“I do! I do like you a lot, and I respect you but it was a difficult situation,” David explains, tears silently welling up in his eyes. “She is dealing with a missing child on her work and she was devastated and it slipped. I swear I didn’t plan on telling her, it was an accident!”

Max’s own eyes seem to shine with tears but his entire face is completely frozen in a pained frown.

“Go away, David,” he says with simplicity.

“Please, Max, talk to me,” David begs, his lip quivering as he tries to hold back tears. “Please, let me explain.”

“David, we are in a public place,” Max says with a forced calm that makes all his muscles tense. “I don’t want to make a scene because Christine and I need to come to this fucking place every week and I don’t want to make a bad reputation here.”

“So come to my house later,” David begs. “Let’s talk when we’re calmer. I can make dinner and we can figure…”

“No,” Max interrupts him with such emphasis that the girl sitting on the other side of the room looks up from her magazine to them. “Go away now. I don’t want to see you again.”

“Please…”

Max turns his back to David, eyes obstinately fixed on the opposite wall. David means to touch him, to turn his around and hug him and beg for forgiveness, but he doesn’t. He might have betrayed Max’s trust but he cares and respects him and he won’t touch the young man when he clearly wants David gone.

“I am sorry,” he says softly. “I know what I did was wrong and I am so, so sorry. If you ever forgive me… I… I was happy to have you again in my life and I will always want you here. So, if you think there is a chance…”

“David!” Max’s voice is garbled, and he sniffs a little as he speaks through his tears. “Go away, please.”

Check this chapter on AO3.

[howtolivealifelessordinary]

Egypt Day 13/14- Dahab, Mt Sinai

The day started off relaxed and non-committal with a leisure breakfast. We started planning the days itinerary and we were all keen on stand-up paddle boarding so Ramy made the arrangements. Our group had dwindled significantly and we were down to only 8 ladies so we decided to only rent 4 and do a half hour each. I’ve paddle boarded before so I just got up and went to get out on the water to practice head stands and balancing poses. I thoroughly enjoyed it and when I was all finished, retired to the roof to take pictures of the other ladies. We all had a great time and when we were finished, Ramy offered to take us to “the caves”. “The caves” is a small village outside of Dahab, their own little niche. It’s full of palm tied beach cabanas and pillows overlooking the ocean from a rocky cliff. It’s just as clean as Dahab but there was hardly anyone there. We hung out and rowed a boat, swam in the cool sea, and ate a large feast of rice, dips, and fresh fish. It was all pretty phenomenal until I got a heart breaking message from home. I won’t go into the details but it completely changed my mood and demeanor and I withdrew entirely. Some of my friends noticed and asked but I just silently shook my head and cried to myself. After our meal, we were all relaxing and soaking up the sun but I couldn’t be present. My heart and my mind were in so many directions, all I could do was quietly cry and look out to the water, wishing I didn’t exist. When we finally left we headed back towards the hotel where some of the ladies took a nap. Our itinerary was a little different this time as we had to leave at 10:30 p.m. to take a bus to Mt Sinai so we could hike it and catch the sunrise. A couple more ladies would be departing early the next morning so we all got together for dinner one last time. We ate, laughed, and enjoyed each other’s company and we all pitched in to contribute to a gratuity for Ramy. When the time came, we loaded onto the bus and headed off being promised a snack stop before we arrived so we would have some food for the hike. The driver never stopped even though he assured us, a few times, 5 more minutes. It took two hours to drive there and when we arrived we were greeted by the usual heckling salesmen. They tried to sell us flashlights and ponchos but I’m a seasoned hiker and assured them we didn’t need any of it and they eventually left us alone. The air was cool and crisp and the stars and moon were bright, so bright that, GASP!, we didn’t need flashlights! The hike by moonlight felt much more genuine and I thought, perhaps, I’d finally have some time for quiet contemplation. That was until I looked up and saw the line of flashlights ambling along and being obnoxiously loud in the distance. My frustrations were confirmed when we quickly gained on the group and had to maneuver through them while they stumbled and struggled along. My annoyance grew when I looked at them all closer. Everyone was wearing brand new head lamps and brand new carbon fiber walking sticks. These are the types of people that go out and buy all the right “gear” for their “adventurous” excursion when in actuality, no amount of equipment could compensate for their lack of athleticism and knowledge on nature and survival. If the zombie apocalypse happened, this group would be the first to be eaten. I quickly maneuvered ahead of them and their unnecessary noise and light and put as much distance between myself and those technological imbeciles as I could without completely leaving my group. When I looked back, I couldn’t help but think that those bobbing lights were everything that’s wrong with humanity. Here they were completely detached from nature and themselves with their artificial lights and cell phones shining their flashlights at the stars hoping to get a picture to prove to their loved ones they’re adventurous. When in reality, the stars are dim and non-magical through that LED screen and the artificial light only dims their natural brilliance and no matter how many snapchats and face-times they captured they were still missing the point of it all-to be present, take it in, and appreciate it all. These are the same types of people that leave plastic bottles on hiking trails and broken glass for “nature to take care of”. The same types of people I constantly clean up after on my hikes in my attempt to “take care of nature”. It’s hard to set aside my animosity and it didn’t help my already somber mood. I eventually kept hiking at my own pace and had to stop frequently for the rest of my group to catch up and catch their breath. Most people aren’t used to exerting so much while gaining altitude but I was in my element. I didn’t mind waiting for my gals, they were silently appreciating the stars and moonlight and I was happy to let them take their time to adjust and enjoy the beauty. I found the climb to be really easy and was able to keep my breath as long as I wasn’t sobbing. But everytime I looked up my heart ached and I just wanted to be anywhere out there. Anywhere but on this planet. I kept having to look down to force myself to be present and dry my eyes but the stars made me cry everytime sending all my hope, love, and prayers to the universe for guidance and acceptance for some kind of break from the heartaches of life. I found no solace but one shooting star that I wished for all the love and happiness in the world for one really great and wonderful man. Along the way are little stop shops where you can purchase snacks and drinks. I had no interest but I utilized them as stopping points for the others to catch up. The last stretch of trail are steps that lead to the summit and I was happy to finally get a workout in. We arrived shortly after 4 AM and had an hour to wait for the sunrise, so we posted up in a little corner and huddled together for warmth. My roomie, Nicole/ Miss Melbourne, was especially hilarious in her slap-happy and tired state. I was really happy to have her near me because her quirky self is really good at making me smile and laugh. She really wanted to do a reenactment of a Mel Brooks movie- history of the world- and we all had a giggling fit at her making the video of Moses coming down from Mt Sinai with 15 (drops and breaks stone tablet) 10 commandments! Then I heard them, the lemmings, the sheeple, cheering loudly as they reached the top of the mountain. It was all fine and good until it just didn’t stop and then they started singing loudly and turned on some speakers and music. Do they not realize the sun sings to your heart when it peeks over the horizon? Of course not, because they’re too busy trying to capture it on video and start garbling it with their WiFi and radio frequencies. Like I said, everything that’s wrong with the species. Too detached to even appreciate our only home and all the gifts she offers us everyday. The one time they had an opportunity to leave the city and societal pressures and they brought it all with them to taint this untarnished and magical place. As the sun rose, their music got louder and it drowned out all potential for contemplation and they all started primping themselves for the 90 selfies they were going to take to show the world where they were without ever actually being there. Normally, hiking and sunrises give me a lot of therapy and sense of oneness and connection but this one only confirmed my feelings of alienation from most of the humans on this planet and I walked away with a heavier heart than when I came up. The hike down was just a lot of steps. 3,000 I think but it was equally easy. We just took our time even though we’d had zero sleep and no food. By that point tensions were starting to rise because we hadn’t eaten and animosity started to build towards our driver for lying and not ever stopping. When we got back to the van, we had breakfast boxes waiting for us from the hotel and we devoured them in a matter of minutes. It was about 7:20 AM and it was already starting to warm up significantly. The driver started heading back to the hotel but not before stopping at a routine check point. He parked us right in the sun and I decided to try and get some sleep. I awoke from intense heat and when I looked at the clock realized it had almost been an hour we were just sitting there. Irritably, I asked what was the holdup and he said we had to wait for a convoy. We asked if he could at least turn on the air conditioner because we were roasting and he did just to sit for more. I was starting to get really irritated as it was our last day in Dahab and we were wasting it sitting here. He left the van to talk to someone and after letting us sit in there for another twenty minutes got back in the car and angrily asked if it was ok if a policeman rode in the van with us. He kept asking in such a rude way that I finally snapped and said, “YES, we don’t care, we’re just sick of sitting here! Let’s go!” He huffily started the car and a policeman got in the passenger seat and we were on our way. I was drifting off to sleep but our “lovely” driver kept slamming on the breaks before speed bumps, I swear, to wake us all up. This guy was seriously the only bad experience about the entire trip and I stormed off of his van when we finally arrived. When Ramy asked about the trip we all mentioned our driver and he apologized and called the guys manager. I don’t know or care what happened from there. Since none of us were able to sleep on the drive back, several of us laid down for naps. I kept tossing and turning, my mind too busy to actually rest and after two hours gave up and sat outside to read over my PADI manuals. At 6, I was picked up to head to the dive center to do my final dive, a night dive, to complete my advanced open-water certification. Ahmed was happy to see me and after going over a few differences from day diving, geared up to get in the water. It was sunset so we’d still have a tiny bit of daylight. To be honest, the idea of night diving really freaked me out but once I got in the water felt completely comfortable and at ease. Ahmed’s kind demeanor and level of skill would make any student feel more comfortable. He’s an amazing instructor. The sea life at night is completely different. There are more needle fish and urchins and the needle fish have different patterns until you shine your light on them. There’s also certain corals that only come out at night and curl in their fronds when you illuminate them. The fish barely move, so you can get a better look at their patterns while they slumber in their underwater home. There were so many more lionfish floating weightlessly in the water away from the coral hideouts they usually reside in. We saw a Spanish dancer(?) a type of sea slug moving along the bottom and a stone fish so big I thought it was a piece of broken pottery. There were also what looked like furry black starfish littering the sea bed. We swam around and explored some more before we went for our 5 meter safety stop where we hung out for 5 minutes. At that time, Ahmed instructed me to switch off my light. We all turned off our lights and when I looked in his direction I could barely make out him making a lot of motion with his hands. Little bioluminescent creatures must riddle the water because the more rapidly you move your hands around the brighter and more little fluorescent lights you see. It was magical. After 5 minutes of this, we made our way back to the shallows and even there you could see flickering little fish actively eating away, swimming rapidly in all directions. It looked like sparkling new years confetti and I sat and stared before finally resurfacing. It was completely dark at that point and we headed back towards the truck to load our equipment. The drive back was cold from the wetsuit but the hot air quickly warms you once you have it off. I showered, redressed, and completed some forms to register my advanced open water training in the international database. I’m now officially an advanced open-water scuba diver. One step closer to master and then instructor. Ahmed and I said our final goodbyes and he invited me back whenever because he enjoyed teaching me and thinks I’ll make a great instructor one day. I left to meet my small group of ladies for dinner at a Thai restaurant on the beach and Ramy came and joined us. The food was excellent and I left with a full and happy belly. We headed back to the hotel and I laid in my bed one last time. My mind was racing but my lack of sleep over the last 48 hours made it easy to drift off and I dreamed of painful memories and all the what ifs of the past.