#everything it was like a spitting image of how he’d look at 5 years old

[babycurtis]

I just had a class with a kid who looked exactly like a baby Johnny it was so surreal

[lubdubsworld]

Change of heart (Chapter 7)

Chapter 1   Chapter 2    Chapter 3     Chapter 4     Chapter 5   Chapter 6

Summary : Times are changing. After years of being oppressed, werewolves are taking a stand against humans , demanding equal rights and fair treatment. Heading the movement is Kim Taehyung, the breathtaking heir to the Kim fortune and one of the few remaining Alpha werewolves in the country. His disdain for the human race is well known and well warranted. They killed his family after all….. He wants to change the world , to put humans in their place but when his five year old daughter takes a shine to their very human neighbor , maybe he has to start with a change of heart , first.

: Pairing : Taehyung x OC / Werewolf AU!!

Genre : Romance, Explicit Content.

Chapter 7

The incessant buzzing of his phone was what woke Taehyung up, his entire body aching something fierce. 

He groaned , spitting  what felt like damp hair out of his mouth, blinking against the shaft of sunlight pouring into the room through the slats of the large windows . His bedroom faced the river, and every morning the sun spilled right into his bed , lighting the room up . He loved waking up to warmth and sometimes it made up for the absence of a warm body next to him on the bed. 

But today, with her wrapped around him, he hated the intrusion....wanted nothing more than to burrow into the bed and stay there for the rest of the year. 

It took him a second to realize that Mirae was lying on top of him and he was still, technically inside her. He had been so completely gone the previous night that he could barely remember a thing. 

Other than the fact that he hadn’t had sex that good in his life. Ever. 

Cupping the back of her head gently and wrapping one arm around her waist, he carefully rolled over, laying her gently on the bed next to him. She whimpered when he slid out of her and he winced when a rush of fluids spilled out of her, drenching his thighs and the sheets. 

Bits of the night began to come back to him then. 

Vague memories of fucking her to within an inch of her life. 

Guilt began to coil around his insides as he pushed the hair of her face. She looked like she had been mauled by an animal. Hickeys bloomed all over her neck, her jaw and even on the fleshy curve of her cheeks. Her hair looked matted with sweat and damp and cum . He had a mental image of her then, weakly crawling away when he tried to push into her for the fifth time, and she had been too sore to take him , begging him to let her suck him off  instead  and he flinched when he remembered holding her down against the pillow and fucking her mouth.

He’d managed to keep his knot out of her mouth, but he’d also had a really fierce orgasm, and his release had pretty much ended up all over her. 

His phone was still ringing and he reached across the bed to grab it, answering the call before checking who it was.

“Taehyung...are you alright?” It’s Dr. Lee and Taehyung blinks, surprised.

“Oh..yes. Dr. Lee , is everything okay?”

“I was only calling to check up on you. My sister told me that you were taking Ms. Yoon home and it made me wonder. Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine, doc. In fact better than fine. My head is surprisingly clear. I was fully prepared for this thing to last like a week but I feel normal already.”

Dr. Lee laughed. 

“Perks of  biting your actual mate and not an impostor. How is she, by the way?”

Taehyung relaxed a bit, staring at the girl in his bed. He gently stroked the hair off her face, running the back of his fingers across the smooth skin of her cheeks. 

“She’s ... fine.” He said roughly, “ Or as fine as you’d expect her to be.” He added as an afterthought, remembering that she had tried to get up from the bed for a drink of water and her legs had given out almost at once.

“And the mating mark? Did you dress it up like I told you?”

“Yes... It wasn’t that deep but you should probably drop by tomorrow and take a look at it anyway. “ An incessant beeping told him he was getting another call and he quickly apologized and hung up on the doctor  taking the other call.

“Tae, the shipment isn’t here on time. We’ve been trying to find the CI who gave us the info and the fucker seems to have run aground. Either that or Yoon’s men got to him.... “ Seokjin’s voice trembled with frustration and anger.

“Oh...fuck hyung that’s bad. Okay, what does Namjoon think? “

“Namjoon says that we should go ahead with drilling that dude we caught during the raid last week, Jaehyun or whatever. He thinks he may have some clue because he was fucking one of the bigger suppliers’ daughter.” 

Taehyung groaned.

“What about the reports from the lab? Did they test positive for any other controlled substance? I know we’ve only focused on a couple of them ...I don’t want to be blindsided by anything. “

“That scientist dude is a pain in the ass, refuses to talk to anyone but you and definitely only in person. “ Seokjin scoffed.

“That’s fine.. I’ll be there in an hour. “ Taehyung said sharply.

Seokjin made a noise of disapproval.

“What? Namjoon told me you were with your mate.... You’re going to leave her?”

Taehyung rolled his eyes at that. 

“She’s not my actual mate hyung. As in... what we have isn’t like official or anything. She agreed to it because I asked her to help me out and she knows that this isn’t anything more than a business arrangement. I didn’t even want to do it but...sometimes you do things for the greater good....” 

He moved to get up out of the bed , levering himself up to stand. He felt better than he had in weeks, his body thrumming with vitality and his mind sharp and clear. 

“She’s human right? Is she actually okay?” 

Taehyung scoffed at the implication . 

“I’m not leaving her bleeding and unconscious, if that's’ what you’re wondering. I bought a bunch of pain stuff for her.... the kind humans use.” He felt that pang of disappointment again. 

She was incredible....beautiful and kind and full of heart, yeah but the fact that she was a human was ...... It was just cruel to her. 

. He had spouted some nonsense to her about wanting to do this everyday for the rest of their life but nothing could be farther from the truth than that.   The idea of having to handle his bedmate with kid gloves made him jittery and nervous. 

She was so fucking fragile and he had struggled so hard last night, holding back, over and over again and she had still come out of it completely wrecked.

If she were a wolf, she’d be perfectly fine by now. Healed and happy and probably even up for some morning sex.

And yes the last bit made him sound like a horny bastard but come on, he was a healthy young wolf and an Alpha at that and his libido had always been on the higher side.

He shook his head as though to clear the way his thoughts were heading. It was ridiculous that he was even thinking about this. It was over. He had claimed her. She was his. His wolf was calm now. He could go about his life without having to worry about going into rut or losing his mind at the thought of another wolf near her. 

And he would not feel guilty about it. 

there was something called the greater good. In the grand scheme of things, one night of discomfort would not cost her anything. But what he was doing was going to change the world for his people. 

Seokjin’s voice filtered in through his thoughts. 

“At least tell her before you leave, Taehyung. You’re literally the kind of bastard who would do something as insensitive as leave her after you mated her and then act like you did nothing wrong. ” 

Annoyed , Taehyung hung up without replying.

Glancing at her, he moved to touch her cheeks again. She was asleep. Sound asleep by the look of it. It would be far more insensitive to wake her up. He would go and meet the guy about the lab results and get back here before she was up. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ow.” 

 I groaned , muffling my agony against the white sheets as I tried to will myself to get up. Breathe through the pain, I told myself firmly. You do not want to spend the entire day like this. You need a shower, stat. 

 “Taehyung?” I called out weakly, for what felt like the tenth time. But the eerie stillness in the room told me I was alone in the apartment.

 I fumbled with my phone, fighting the urge to call him. If he had left, there had to have been a reason , a reason important enough for him to leave and it struck me again that I had been a little hasty, agreeing to this. 

Fueled entirely by my wish to get rid of the excess amount of cum all over me., I dug both my elbows into the bed, lifting my self up to my hand and knees. The pain radiating from my spine, settling deep in my center and the harsh abrasions on my insides.....all of it was a reminder that I had definitely bitten off more than I could chew. 

The first thing I did was grab the pain killers on the table, popping three of them into my mouth and dry swallowing. It was a little past eleven in the morning and I was starving. But I had to get a shower first. 

The trip to the bathroom was an ordeal and I had to fight tears, just to stand. 

Okay. Maybe a bath was in order than. 

I fumbled with the taps, watching warm water fill the ceramic tub, sweating a bit in the humid room. I glanced at my thighs, lightly stroking the bruises and watching them bloom purple under my fingertips. 

The pain was already ebbing, the tablets doing their thing and with my head a little clearer, my thoughts felt heavy. Regret churned, curdling in my gut and I could taste heartbreak on my tongue. 

Sleeping with him had been a mistake. 

A colossal fucking mistake, I thought desperately. I was already feeling abandoned and miserable. I wanted to throw on some clothes and go find him in his office . Wanted to curl into his lap and then refuse to leave. 

But mostly I wanted to kick myself for feeling that way. 

Taehyung wasn’t ..... available for any kind of relationship.

 He was an Alpha werewolf and important man. 

An important bureaucrat. Someone with power and responsibility. A man driven by his need to protect his kind and destroy anyone who meant him harm.  

A man who would do anything to get his way , even if it meant seducing a human he didn’t even like. 

And he had seduced me I thought , feeling unaccountably upset at myself. 

In the  vivid light of day, with my body aching so fierce and my head spinning , I could remember everything that happened the previous day with a sort of vivid clarity. And it was almost an out of body experience, like watching the whole thing happen to someone else. 

The way he had framed his words, the soothing comfort, the reassurances. That stupid fucking dance in the living room with the most cliché song in the world, it was like something straight out of a chick-lit novel. Something only a naïve, immature , desperate woman would fall for. 

What a cruel heartless bastard, I thought angrily. There was no way he didn’t know the effect of his words and actions on me. There was no way he didn’t know that he was purposely playing the part of a loving partner just to break down any defenses I may have put up. 

And like an idiot I had fallen for it. 

Staring around at the apartment and realizing he had just left me to fend for myself, without so much as a note....... After spouting all that nonsense about making sure I was comfortable. 

And I realized with a jolt that he really only meant it for the sex. All that affection, all that concern had been just for the few hours he had me in his bed. When he meant he wanted to make me feel me meant it only for when we were having sex. 

Now that he had got what he wanted , he was back to being the guy he actually was. 

A complete stranger. 

It made me  feel so incredibly foolish . 

Wetness spilled onto my foot and I realized the tub was overflowing. I closed the taps quickly before pulling the drain to lower the water level a bit. 

Climbing in, I settled back against the hard edge of the tub, letting my eyes flutter shut as the warm water soothed my sore muscles. 

“You’re up?” 

Jungkook’s voice startled me, and I nearly went under.

“Careful.” Fingers gripped my shoulder, pulling me back to stability and I gasped out, running a hand over my face to get rid of the water. 

“You... Where did you come from?” I stared at him , gripping the edges of the tub and watching him.

Jungkook looked like a breath of fresh air, hair slightly damp and clad in a white t shirt and blue jeans. He was grimacing a bit, eyebrows furrowed in evident annoyance.

“This entire room reeks.” He complained, turning on the ventilator in the corner of the bathroom. 

I groaned, settling back and just staring at him as he rummaged in the cupboard, pulling out a few bottles, a fresh wash clothe and bottle of body wash. 

My body hummed in delight at the thought of actually being cared for. 

“I’m not even kidding, is this what having a mate is like? You look like you were in a fight with a thorny hedgerow.” He commented, making his way over , but not before stripping out of his shirt and wiggling out of his jeans. 

I hummed, enjoying the view for a second as he finally settled on a small ottoman, right next to the tub. 

I gave him a sweet smile.

“Why are you here?” I whispered. He reached over to press a kiss to my forehead.

“Hyung told me to come. He got caught up with work and he feels bad about leaving you here all by yourself.” 

“Kim Taehyung....told you to come take care of me. Sounds fake but okay.” 

Jungkook laughed.

“To be fair he actually told your brother. But Yugyeom’s busy and he also doesn’t want to see you naked and so he gave me a call.” Jungkook carefully squeezed a dollop of body wash onto the cloth, before gently smoothing the soft linen against my skin. His gaze held mine as he carefully lathered up my shoulders, my collarbones and the curve of my neck. He took care not to touch the dressing on my neck, where Taehyung had bitten me. 

I smiled when one finger stretched out, tracing circles on my skin . Jungkook was too young to be subtle , and I felt a pang of guilt when I saw the very obvious look in his eye.

 Arousal looked so blatant on his handsome face, lips parted, slicked wet. Eyes heavy and intent as he gently rubbed the skin near my throat, thumb now curving around my neck , gently pressing in. 

His gaze met mine and I held it, feeling his hands move lower, fingers curling lightly on the curve of my breasts. When I felt the brush of his thumb on the hard peak of my nipple, I grabbed his wrist.

Tugging his hand away gently, I used my free hand to lightly flick his forehead.

“Behave.” I warned. 

His gaze turned pouty and he let out a breathy, “ Just wanted to make you feel good noona.” 

“You made me feel a billion times better just by showing up here today. But, I don’t want you to get mauled by Taehyung in case he’s feeling territorial again.  ”   I smiled, shaking my head. “ I’ll take it from here. Why don’t you go wait in the bedroom and I’ll call you when I’m done so you can help me out. of the tub.”

Which in itself , probably wouldn’t be necessary. The pills had done their trick and other than feeling well fucked, I didn’t particularly hurt. 

“He doesn’t deserve you.” Jungkook’s voice was petulant , eyes clearly showing how upset he was. He moved back a bit but made no other attempt to leave.

“I thought you liked him.” I chuckled lightly as he carefully arranged the body wash and the washcloths near the tub. I reached for it myself, carefully scrubbing over my skin, for now ignoring the way Jungkook kept his eyes trained on my body as I pulled my legs up to wash them. It was odd, how little his gaze affected me compared to how my body had reacted to Taehyung last night. 

With Jungkook it was...just physical. 

I liked being touched , so I enjoyed sex with Jungkook. 

With Taehyung it had been something so much more.

The very idea of Taehyung touching me, the idea of him wanting to touch me..that had been so overwhelming. 

And so sex with Taehyung had blown my mind. 

“What do you mean, like him? “ Jungkook frowned. 

“It was always Tae hyung, this and Tae hyung that...” I teased. “ You were never subtle about your little man crush on him.” 

I carefully grabbed the showerhead, wetting my hair gently. 

Jungkook scoffed.

“Of course I like him. You can’t be a wolf and not like Kim Taehyung. He’s done so much for us.” He grabbed the shampoo off the counter but before I could take it from him, he squeezed a bit of it into his palms and sank his fingers into my hair.

“Let me do this for you, noona.,” He muttered , voice deep and soothing and I couldn’t contain the moan that escaped, his fingers feeling like heaven as they carefully lathered up the damp strands, massaging my scalp till my eyes fluttered shut.

“Taehyung has things he needs to do and ...well, I agreed to this just so he could avoid any distractions.” I said gently, reaching out and lightly touching his arm.

“That doesn’t give him the right to hurt you though. “ 

I laughed despite myself.

“Why do you think he hurt me?” 

Jungkook stopped his ministrations.

“You wear your heart on your sleeve.” 

I felt my breath catch at that. This thing with Jungkook, it wasn’t exactly the sort of thing where I felt comfortable enough sharing my feelings for someone else with him. I felt awful, embarrassed and annoyed that  something I hadn’t even fully known myself was , apparently obvious to the world.  . 

Embarrassed because it would never be reciprocated. 

Annoyed because I should have nipped this thing in the bud. 

But I couldn’t talk about this now. 

“It’s not... “ I hesitated. “ It’s not going to be a problem. For me. I’m going to fix it. “  The dull throb of the bite on my neck mocked me, even as I said it. I had agreed to something momentous , something that carried a lot of consequences behind it, and I had done it on a whim. 

Taehyung with his honey dripping tongue and gentle but firm hands had made me dance to his tune so perfectly. But now that the act was over, I was definitely in danger of drowning. 

“ So, you’re just going to hang around while he does his own thing.” Jungkook frowned.

“Actually she’s free to walk out anytime she likes.”

Taehyung’s voice broke through the bathroom like a clanging cymbal and I jerked out of the tub in shock.

Jungkook startled too, eyes going wide as he scrambled to his feet. 

Taehyung looked like he had stepped right out of a magazine. 

He was wearing a perfectly pressed pinstriped white button down and teal green slacks , a slim patterned tie , in hues of green and red, perfectly knotted at the base of his throat and  he also had on a waistcoat, fitting him like a glove, setting off his broad shoulders and trim waist. 

He had his hair styled into a perfect  part, the thick silky locks arching into perfect side bangs that fell into his eyes.

Eyes that held a whole lot of fury as they took in the sight of me, naked in his tub while an almost naked Jungkook had his fingers buried in my hair. 

“I thought you would still be sore from last night....but I suppose that isn’t true, if you felt the need to call for your fuck buddy so soon?” He drawled casually. 

I felt anger swell inside me.

“ Jungkook was kind enough to help me out because I couldn’t even move.” I gritted out. 

“A feat that required him to strip to his boxers?” 

“Hyung, just chill. If I fucked her you would be able to smell it. “ Jungkook snapped, moving to shrug his clothes back on. 

Taehyung ignored him , grabbing a pair of fluffy white towels from the linen closet.

He gave me a look.

“You done?” He asked shortly. 

And somehow, its the sheer disinterest in his tone, the gaze that may as well be directed at a stranger on the fucking road..... That is what really  stings.

I felt like the entire weight of every bad decision I had ever made in my life had just dropped on my head. Almost sagging from the sheer hurt permeating my entire body, I grabbed the edge of the tub and levered myself up, not even bothered that I was completely naked. 

I stepped right out of the tub, completely ignoring the way my limbs practically screamed in protest at the movement. 

I held my hand out for the towel, completely ignoring, Jungkook’s hasty, “ Fuck” or the way Taehyung’s eyes that had gone as wide as saucers. 

He held the towel out and I yanked it out of his grip, wrapping the fabric around my body. 

Taehyung let out a harsh, “ Get the fuck out of my house.” at Jungkook who quickly grabbed his jeans and stumbled out with a rushed.

“I’ll call you noona.” 

I glared at Taehyung, refusing to so much as acknowledge him as I pushed past him into the living room.

“Jungkook wait, I’m coming with you.” I called out angrily and the wolf stopped, looking surprised as he finished pulling his jeans on, fumbling with his buttons.

“Leave, Jungkook.” Taehyung snapped.

“Uh....” Jungkook stared between the two of us.

“Why the fuck are you still here?” This time Taehyung’s voice was louder, deeper, bordering on a true snarl and Jungkook recoiled.

“Fine. I’ll just get a cab then.” 

I turned to the bag with my clothes, grabbing the first thing I could get my hands on. 

Taehyung’s voice came from behind me , tired and weary.

“Please don’t leave.”

I stopped, closing my eyes and willing myself not to completely lose it.

“Please , just.... I know I shouldn’t be angry. This thing with us is ...nothing.” He said softly, which , fucking  ouch .  Having him actually say it was so much worse. 

But he wasn’t done.

  “  Its just a fucking favor you’re doing me, i know that is what it is. We don’t owe each other anything I know , but if you're gonna see Jungkook just... not in my house okay. I didn’t like him with you...in  my  house.”

I turned around to stare at him.

“What do you think I was doing with him in  your  house Taehyung? He came over to help because Yugyeom was busy. You were the one who asked him to check up on me....weren’t you?”

Taehyung ran his fingers through his hair. 

“I don’t fucking know...all I know is that my wolf smelled you and another alpha and-”

“You know you’re the only were who speaks like that...” I said angrily.

Taehyung blinked.

“Like what?”

“Like you and your wolf are two different entities. Like you can do any thing you want and then blame your damn wolf for it. And its beginning to piss me off.” 

Taehyung flinched at that.

“I’m just... I’m trying to do this in a way that our lives don’t get fucked up. I can’t... Your father....”

“I know. I know my fucking father is a scumbag and that he needs to rot in hell and I am willing to help you do it. But if only you could just.... give me a fucking break .,...” 

“I know...and I’m sorry. I just... I’m in a mess. Your father got rid of three of the dealers we could tie him to and it looks like there are other people involved in this whole thing. Other powerful men. I’m just... I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to do this without getting someone close to your father.”

I stared at him.

“Well, its not me. He hates my guts... He would never confide in me.”

“But he has a soft spot for a really close friend of mine....I believe you’ve met him....his name is Cha Eun Woo.”

I froze. 

“Taehyung....”  I groaned in disbelief. 

“I wanted to ask you if you would pretend to date Cha Eun Woo...”

I felt like my head was about to splinter in two. 

“Just long enough for me to get the info I need. Eun Woo is good at what he does and he can easily get into your father’s good graces, get him to confide in him and we could bring this entire fucking racket down...but the only way Eun woo could have access to your father would be through you.... “ 

Taehyung sounded desperate as he spoke, and I felt dangerously close to crying. 

“So it wasn’t enough that you got to fuck me? You’re just gonna pimp me out to your friends now...” I choked out.

“Fucking hell, Rae...That’s not what this is....This is for the...”

“Greater good.....yeah... I know.... I fucking heard you today morning on the fucking phone...Telling your friend how you had to suffer through a night with me for the greater good. And that's just perfectly fine....what I really don’t understand is why you had to fucking pretend like you actually gave a shit about me.... “ I  choked out , my eyes dampening against my wishes . 

Taehyung froze, eyes wide. 

Something awfully close to pity began to swim in them and I swallowed the bile rising up my throat. 

“Fine. Tell your fucking friend to come pick me up.” 

I couldn’t bring myself to even look at him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : Feedback is love.

Let me know what you guys thought. 

Taglist : @veronawrites

@ladyartemesia

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@bonyg

[21incognito]

When She Grows Up When my daughter was still such a little girl, just putting together words and walking, my heart melted every time I looked at her.  She was the spitting image of my wife, Marion; same golden hair, same eyes and smile, the way she held her head up when she looked us right in the eye. Karrin was small but a pistol from the very start and she went non-stop until she literally fell down, too tired to get up again. “No!  Not bedtime yet!” was her battle cry every night and I loved her for that.  No matter what Marion hoped, I could already see our daughter was a fighter, not a quiet little person ready to obey all the rules that might make life easier. Our daughter.  That little bundle of arms and legs with a cute little button nose. . .and a set of lungs like no other.  It felt perfect anyway, the sound of a child in our home.  Collin couldn’t keep his eyes off of her as she grew.  I remember the night he gave her a stuffed animal, a soft, floppy German Shepherd she carried around for years, “My powese dog,” later named “Smokey” after an earnest conversation with the other toys in her room and, of course, Collin.  That poor dog had to be washed once a week because he went anywhere she did, including mud puddles and snow forts. In due course we gave Karrin little brothers and finally a little sister, but she was always special because she came first.  And she was quick to learn and would play on her own for hours but she always stopped when Collin came through the door and they spent time together.  Sometimes I found them in his study.  He’d be at his desk working on reports or case summaries or even cleaning his gun.  I’d long ago given up telling him not to do it with Karrin in the room even though it made me uneasy; Collins just smiled at me and had our daughter show me all the parts and then tell him in what order the pieces went back together.  She was 4 and I thought she’d grow out of it. When my daughter turned 5 and went to Catholic school, at her mother’s insistence, I wasn’t sure how things might turn out.  Karrie was such a determined little person I worried about the nuns trying to deal with her.  But she loved school and her teacher told us our daughter had no problems learning the rules.  It was how to APPLY the rules that caught Karrie’s attention.  She came home every day and tried to explain the whats and whys to her little brothers.  They weren’t very interested and my daughter looked them straight in the eye, set her stubborn little jaw and patiently went through the rules another time.  “Karrie,” Marion said in her best mother’s voice, “they’re not old enough to...”  “Mama, no!  Only Daddy calls me Karrie!!  Only Daddy.  I told you before.”  And it was true, I was the only one allowed to use that term of endearment.  I’d had to get up and leave the room to keep from laughing while Marion and our daughter settled the dispute.  God knows I loved them both so much. As she got older there were times when only Collin could do anything with Karrin.  Oh, she’d stay in the kitchen and help me make cookies or set up tea parties to keep her brothers busy while I fixed dinner.  I wondered if she paid any attention to cooking or baking, things my own mother passed on to me; Collin’s mother always assured me Karrin took in everything around her.  And her grandmother seemed to know when Karrin and I needed a break from each other and she’d take Karrin to her house for a while.  The boys liked going as well, but it was special time for Karrin.  I always believed she tried out her softer side when she went with her grandmother and was somewhere we couldn’t see her.  The boys could be such a handful sometimes that I started to look forward to the offers to let Karrin work off some energy by staying over.  She always came home with a smile on her face, some little secret she wouldn’t share.  And occasionally a kitten hidden in her bag. When Karrie was about 9, my work as a Black Cat started to send me to some dark places.  It was obvious to some of us on the force that things weren’t quite “normal” anymore.  Brutal robberies, murders with odd twists, attacks we couldn’t explain with the usual language.  Bit by bit, we found ourselves in situations that left us uneasy.  I tried not to carry that home with me but cases started piling into one another.  And then, one night, I ran into someone/something that shook me to my core.  I knew this “being” wasn’t human, not completely, but she started mentioning my firstborn child and things to come that she’d have to be ready for.  My Karrie, 10 years old, should NEVER need to face those kinds of things but I didn’t know how to keep her safe. I bottled things up, then I started taking a bottle of whiskey into my study when I was home.  And I started to see my daughter in a different light.  She still liked spending time in my study but we didn’t talk the way we used to.  She got quiet, so quiet that sometimes I forgot she was in the room and that was my mistake.  I had a bad habit of talking to myself about the cases we worked on shift and Karrie heard some of it.  Marion walked in on that one night; after that she didn’t let our daughter spend so much time with me.  My mother tried to talk with me about the situation but I couldn’t do it.  My mother was a smart, generous and loving person but she was made of steel and she warned me that I needed to get things right with my family before I hurt every single one in it.  And Karrie was at the top of that list.  She said she and Marion would always be there for the kids but Karrin was modeling herself after me and I needed to recognize what that meant. “Karrin, please go get your brother off the monkey bars.”  “Tell your youngest brother to stop taking the ball away from his older brother.”  “I wish I could take you to the playground but right now the baby needs changing and a nap.  We’ll go later.”  I must have repeated those lines hundreds of times.  Karrin always gave me ‘that look” just like her father, then shook her head and went to do as I’d asked.   The school thought she was a great student but her report card always mentioned some issues with “attitude” and her never ending string of questions.  Karrin didn’t mind being told WHAT to do IF you told her why.  “How” wasn’t always necessary because she was an inventive little person.  Sports seemed to help keep her focused but unless she picked the sport you could be wasting time and money.  She’d hated ballet lessons with undisguised loathing that even encouragement from Collin’s mother didn’t change.  The instructor and I bribed my daughter to stay in her class by letting her take gymnastics.  Collin’s mother jokingly mentioned fencing to Karrin and to no one’s surprise she’d taken to it like a duck to water.  That poor instructor spent half his time telling her not to be so aggressive but he wasted his breath.  She’d always liked sticks and “combat” and spent hours in the back yard with her brothers, all of them merrily knocking away at each other.  I finally took a picture of them really working at it to her 5th grade teacher because he was so concerned about the bruises all over her arms.  And then there was the incident with a miniature cap pistol, a Christmas gift from her grandmother.  I worried it wasn’t appropriate for a girl her age to play with it so much, and then one evening while she and the boys played cops and robbers her brothers yelled she was cheating.  “Karrin, what are you doing?  The boys said. . ”  Karrin just shook her head, looked straight at me and said, as she pulled the cap pistol out of her sock:  “It’s not cheating, Mom, it’s a hold-out gun.”  That’s when I seriously started explaining to Collin he really had to think about what he talked about when he and his daughter spent time together.  I knew his partner and some of the other Black Cats adored Karrin but they’d all sworn not to talk to her about their work.  Collin had sons to follow in his footsteps.  I so hoped Karrin would follow in mine.

[copias-thrall]

Cause I'm Young and I'm Here and So Beautiful

A look into the rise and fall of Mary Goore's flash-in-the-pan modeling career.

~12.5K Mary Goore/Reader *drug/alcohol use; mentions of past child abuse; brief homelessness; plot no porn; POV shift*

This fic was inspired by and is very loosely based on Aurelio Voltaire's early days in NYC in the 90s, though I have set it in Boston in the early aughts. 😊

Many thanks to the artists who did commissions for this! 🥰

One Way Streets

Mary stepped off the regional rail and gripped his backpack. He had $72.57 in cash rolled into his socks and a give-em-hell attitude.

When he’d packed his bag the night before, he wasn’t even sure if he’d go through with it, but he couldn’t stand being home anymore. Some of his friends had told him he was crazy.

"Three more months, dude. You got this. Just finish high school, then bounce."

But they didn’t have to live with his dad and the step-monster. Every day was a new indignity. Having them bitch about his music and his style was one thing—that he could have dealt with—but everything else had just kind of…escalated.

Now that the kiddies were older, they’d turned into gremlins. They’d somehow sensed that Mary wasn’t their beloved older brother—he was some sort of half other. They’d stopped questioning why "mom was so mean" to him and had accepted that she was because there was something wrong with Mary. They realized they could be little shits and blame everything on him.

And dad just didn’t care. He’d throw up his hands and say, "I have to live with her"—as if Mary wasn’t in the same boat.

Dad hadn’t stopped her when—in a rage—she’d smashed every single vinyl album Mary had owned because the twins ruined her nice tablecloth. He’d shrugged when she cut all Mary's guitar strings so he couldn’t play "the devil’s music." He’d held Mary back when she took a match and burned all his secret stuff that Mary kept under his bed—action figures, books, guitar mags, journals—in the backyard because he got detention for smoking. He hadn’t said a word when the police showed up after she came at Mary with scissors because he’d dyed his hair black and he’d pushed her away before she could scalp him.

Mary thought for sure he was going to get carted off to jail as she screamed about him terrorizing the family and being afraid he was going to kill her sons in their sleep, but the officers had just looked at her bored and told her being a teenager wasn’t a crime.

So, no: Mary couldn’t wait 3 more months.

He’d scraped together what money he had left from his secret shifts working as a busboy under the table at a local dive downtown, packed his backpack with the essentials, and walked the 5 miles to the train station instead of going to school.

Eighteen was 10 weeks away. He could fudge it for a few months, especially since he could already get away without using his fake ID to get into shows most of the time.

So, to the big city it was.

He shifted his weight and tried to pretend that he belonged here in Boston, but actually facing the busy streets was a lot different from looking at a bird’s-eye view map. He had a printout in his pocket, but he didn’t want to look like a doe-eyed tourist. So he set off down the seemingly labyrinthine streets in the direction he could have sworn was the correct one.

It wasn't.

When he came out a side alley into Faneuil Hall, he almost wondered if he'd gone through a fairy portal, since he was clear on the other side of town. Begrudgingly, he checked his creased map, and set out once more.

And ended up spit out by the State building.

Finding the hostel turned into a fraught adventure, and he got turned around several times more. When he tried to ask for directions, most people pushed past him while one lady shoved $5 at him. He used the cash to buy a hotdog, and it was the vendor who ultimately gave him directions in his thick, Southie accent.

Of course, making it to the hostel ended up being just part one. The rates were almost double what it stated online ("Sorry, honey—that site hasn’t been upgraded since the 90s."), and two nights were practically all his savings. Mary had thought he’d at least have a couple of days to find a job, not 36hrs.

He left the hostel, wondering for the first time if maybe he shouldn’t go back home…but he decided it was a nice day out. Surely there was some place he could hunker down. Just for the night.

What he hadn’t anticipated was the cops at every fucking turn telling him to move along. And any place out of line-of-sight seemed to already be inhabited.

He finally found a place behind some rocks in the Seaport where he didn’t think he’d be murdered in his sleep, curled around his backpack, and drifted off into a fitful sleep.

Mary woke up damp from the dew and the morning sun streaming into his eyes. The birds were creating an awful racket, but Mary guessed it was as good an alarm clock as any.

He ran his fingers through his bird's nest of hair, and he made his way back to the South Station. The men’s room may have smelled like a sewage treatment plant, but at least it was free. He had expected it to be mostly empty at the crack of dawn, but it was full of commuters making that last run to the head before they had to take the train 2hrs out of the city for work.

And it was a sight: a bunch of suits with their fancy lattes washing their hands, and Mary in the corner trying to surreptitiously wipe down with paper towels under his Misfits t-shirt and his shredded jeans. At school, he’d have probably gotten into several altercations by now—no one would have let him just turn into Mary Goore without a fight—but this was Boston, and no one gave him more than a cursory glance.

Just another college kid.

It emboldened Mary to go full-out in the kind of way he had only done when going out to the punk shows downtown at night: kohl all the way around his eyes, and some on his cheekbones; mascara because his lashes are long and thick, and he knows it (his dad had said it made him look hard, and Mary had sneered that maybe that was what he’d been going for. But maybe it had been because he’d liked the way it had made his green eyes pop.); a smear of the step-monster’s fanciest matte lipstick on his full lips; and airplane glue in his hair to give it that lift.

He made a kissy face at himself in the mirror, and headed back out.

It was a nice Spring day—almost boiling in the direct sun—and it tempted Mary to wear only his battle vest, but even he kind of figured applying to jobs half dressed was a mistake.

He walked all over the city, trying not to get lost, looking for any kind of work—dishwasher, busboy, barback—but all he had to show for it was blistered feet and a raging appetite. The only good part of the day was that he noted any restaurant or bakery that looked like it might toss perfectly good food at the end of the day.

He and his friends had become experts at dumpster diving in his podunk town, and he felt confident that he had a good feel for a jackpot. Mary staked out a bakery and was rewarded with a find of "old" bagels. He shoved as many as he could into the nooks and crannies of his backpack before slinking off to the Commons to inhale at least two of them.

Cold, stale dough never tasted so good.

He watched the tourists and the professionals walk by in ones and in groups while he ran his bare feet through the grass. Some laughed with each other as they sauntered down the path while others seemed singularly intent on their ultimate destination. A pack of dogs ran and played with each other as their owners looked on fondly, and nearby the baseball diamond hosted a casual game.

Mary counted his lucky stars that his first week in Boston was April at its kindest—always mild during the day, even when it turned cloudy, and a few times even downright warm. The nights turned chilly, though, and it had Mary in more layers than an onion. If the birds or damp didn't wake him, his butt cramps from being curled in a tight ball all night did.

He spent those days walking around the city proper looking for work. He wasn't adventurous enough to make the leap across the bridges to Cambridge just yet, but his travels gave him a good sense on how the different sections of Boston connected—and showed him potential places to crash at night. He didn't even mind living off day-old garbage food and drinking from bubblers (he'd bought a water for the express purpose of reusing the bottle), but the barren wasteland that seemed to be the job market was beginning to weigh on him.

At home, he could always find a shit job if he was willing to put up with shit hours and ridiculous requests. Here, though, Mary was just one of many desperate people willing to do desperate work.

And he didn’t look particularly trustworthy or reliable.

@dipendancesld

Hashtag WTF

I’m scrolling through Insta on the T, and I’m way down the rabbit hole of hashtags. New content was at a minimum this morning (how can I follow accounts in triple digits and only see the same 4 posts?!), so I’d started with some art tags and ended up where I usually end up—trolling social media for blurry pictures of my boy.

His band has been a local staple for years—or at least that’s what he told me on our first date. I had just moved from New York after a nasty breakup, ready to start fresh, and I’d seen him at a coffee shop hanging posters for his next show in his leather jacket, asymmetrical Metallica crop top, and stomping boots.

Fresh had never looked so good.

Then, a few months back, an online publication had featured his band in the year’s 50 best bands "you’ve never heard of," and now the band's starting to gain traction.

He’s starting to gain traction.

Finding the new online content of him first has become a game the two of us play. We had to stop counting images posted from the popular fan accounts because Mary's now acquaintances with most of them, and I said it was hardly fair to snipe me that way. Mary had pouted—but it was to cover up his grin. So now we troll for the pictures of his latest gig or at his favorite haunts from either his  casual fans or one of his new ones. I even have a whole range of hashtag typos saved if I really want to triumph, since Mary just doesn't have the attention span.

I usually win, though, by virtue of not keeping Rockstar Hours—and because Mary doesn’t have a smartphone. Mary delights in spending the wee hours while I'm sleeping finding new content, and I'll often wake to one he's pulled up on my laptop and a "suck it" sticky note stuck to my monitor.

(But I’m reigning supreme.)

There’s a thirst tag I sometimes comb through (for reasons), and today I’m desperate for that morning serotonin to keep me from dozing off, which is why I stumble across a particularly convincing cosplayer in some…risqué poses and outfits.

The dude is really good, and I have to admit he really does have Mary’s mannerisms down pat. He’s younger and a little skinnier than Mary is now, but his facial expressions are on point. I zoom in to see the contouring technique because he's using one of those filters to make it look old…and that’s when I sense something off. I can’t quite place my finger on it, but usually there’s an uncanny valley to his serious cosplayers, and this dude looks so real. He’s even 100% accurate with the mole placement, which is something I never see.

My heart does a flip-flop.

Is that…actually Mary?

Foundling

Mary's sixth night in the city, it rained. It was more of a brief Spring shower, but it was still enough to soak him and his backpack through. He shivered through the early morning hours until the sun came up, then he made his way to the Commons to lay his belongings—and himself—out into the sun to dry.

By midday, he had a slight sunburn across his nose, but most of his things were dryish—though the food was a soggy lost cause. He cut his losses and decided to buy a sausage from the hotdog vendor, even if that meant he was down to $52.37 in his sock bank.

It was the most amazing thing he'd ever eaten in his entire life (sometimes he still dreams of it), and he gobbled it down as he sat in the grass and watched the show of people pass by.

He could take today off from his job search.

Just another Groundhog Day of rejections.

A gaggle of kids about his age walked past, and he lit up when he saw them: studs and bright hair and cuffs and combat boots. They ran and shrieked and shoved at each other, and Mary had never felt such longing to be a part of something.

Not that nebulous feeling of "my world is out there somewhere," but "my world is right there if I can just get to it."

And he realized maybe he could.

These were his people.

Mary hopped off the bench and approached the boisterous group.

"Uh, hey…guys."

The pack stopped and looked him over, confused but not hostile.

"Oh hey, man" said a girl with green fins and a studded, leather jacket.

"Hey."

I have nowhere to go. Can I go with you?

"Sorry, I forgot your name."

"Oh, you don’t—"

A guy in a tight striped shirt, snake bites, and blue hair interrupted him.

"Shit, were you in my intro into film class last year?"

Mary was a high school dropout.

"Nah, dude. I’m new and shit."

…But he wasn’t stupid.

A curvy white goth with bleached blonde hair and a cream princess dress smiled at him.

"Aww, that’s rough, honey. If you think about it, they really ought to give transfers on-campus housing. It sucks to be so new and away from the action."

Mary nodded. "Yeah. Sucks."

"Well, we’re going to The Pit, wanna come?"

"If you guys don’t mind…"

"Fuck, the more the merrier!"

Mary smiled as they assimilated him into the group. He found out the goth’s name was Vanessa ("But call me Vanity."), green fins was Alexa ("Or Alex. I’m trying it out."), striped shirt was Billy, and the two other punks were Mandi (Manic Panic red) and Aaron (band tee, spiked collar).

No one laughed at him when he introduced himself as Mary or asked him why he had a girl’s name.

They took him onto the T at Charles MGH, and Mary marveled at the setting sun over the Charles River before the train ducked underground to barrel in Cambridge. At Harvard, they ushered him off the train and directly into The Pit, and Mary almost cried when he saw the pit rats there playing hacky sack, strumming guitars, and smoking cloves. Mary watched as his group high-fived, bumped chests, and hugged nearly everyone there before introducing him as if they’d known him for years.

He was shit at hacky sack, but he accepted a round on the guitar and shared a clove with a white girl who had a rat's nest of hair.

"Fuck their beauty stands," she said when she caught Mary staring.

Mary smiled and pointed to his own mess of hair. "Fuck ‘em," he repeated.

She cackled and handed him a brown bag with what he expected to be whiskey, but tasted like turpentine.

She laughed harder at his face as he coughed, and she pounded him on the back.

"Moonshine, dude. Lenny makes it in his bathtub."

"Which one is Lenny," Mary asked as he wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Oh, he’s not here. He goes to MIT. We have a strict trade agreement—booze for pot. I’m Katie."

Head fuzzy, Mary had made out with her until Aaron tugged on his arm.

"Shit dude, we gotta go before the T closes. You live close to here?"

"Uh…"

"Aww, I think he got into Lenny’s moonshine," said Vanity. "If he’s a transfer, I bet he’s at some shithole in Allston. You in Allston, honey?"

Mary just nodded.

"All right then," said Alex, taking charge. "We’ll put him up tonight. There’s no way he’s gonna make it back to Allston by himself, and I’ll be fucked if I’m trekking out there without a BU party to crash."

Mary wobbled slightly as Alex took his arm in his and led him to the T.

"Ok, we gotta go now or we’ll all be hoofing it."

They took Mary back to their dorm by the Hatch Shell and signed him in as a guest.

"Is this ok?" Mary asked warily—he didn't want to get kicked out in the middle of the night.

Mandi patted him on the back.

"We do it all time. No one really gives a shit. Vegan Mick dropped out 2 semesters ago and they don’t even check for his ID."

That night, Mary slept in the common room on a lumpy couch that was half as long as he was.

It was heaven.

The next morning seemed like the end, and Mary slumped as Vanity to sign him out. For one brief day he'd been a part of something, and now it was back to Mary, party of one. But Vanity took one look at his face and asked if he wanted to get breakfast at the dining hall.

Of course, he wanted to…but he thought of the dwindling cash in sock bank and hesitated. Vanity, bless her, misread his trepidation.

"It's on me, sweetie. I know most transfers don’t opt in. Too expensive when it’s not bundled. No worries, I got a ton of points I don’t use."

Alex and Aaron were already half done with their food when Vanity and he joined them, and they looked on in amusement as Mary ate half the breakfast buffet.

When the subject of classes came up, he shrugged off questions.

"None this morning."

Alex narrowed her eyes at him.

"What year did you say you were?"

"Sophomore."

"Not a freshman?"

Mary shook his head. "I’m not a freshman."

She seemed about to ask another question, so Mary quickly changed the subject.

"I thought I’d spend the day applying for jobs. You guys know of any place that’s hiring?"

"No work study?"

"No."

"What kind of work you looking for?"

"Shit, anything. I’ll sweep the fucking floors."

They bandied about ideas, places for Mary to try, but no one had any leads. Too soon, some unknown gong had them scurrying to get to class.

Mary suddenly panicked.

"Hey, do you guys mind if I spend the night again? I mean…"

"Yeah, sure," said Vanity. "Aaron?"

"Yeah, man. Meet me after class and I'll swipe you in."

It apparently was a time-honored tradition, passed down from upperclassmen to underclassmen, on gaming the guest system. Most kids used it to essentially move their significant others into their dorm rooms, but a handful every year used it to give haven to others who had questionable housing situations.

So, just like that, Mary had a place to rest his bones.

@dilfpassing

A Deeper Look

I’m so intent on scrolling through the comments on the grainy pics—which I'm sure now are actual scans—that I completely miss my stop, and I have to put my phone away so I can wheeze lightly jog my way to where I work as a receptionist at an alternative hair salon.

It’s really important that I start a good hour before we open so I can return any calls left on our voicemail first thing in case I can fit anyone in today. Which means I have to shelve my find for now, much to my irritation.

Mornings are super-busy because apparently there are some people in the world that like getting up with the sun and want everything done by noon. (June Cleaver’s salon lets me get away with a lot—like coming to work in denim short-shorts and ripped tights, free hair colors, and a snarky attitude—but late start times aren’t one of them.) I honestly don’t have room in my brain to obsess about the pictures because I’m too busy answering calls, making coffee, settling accounts, and giving the new customer spiel for the 57th time to a walk-in.

It’s just after midday, when Penny, the shampoo girl, collects my cash for the salon-wide sandwich run, and I finally have a moment to breathe. And obsess.

I take out my phone again, and I have to retrace my steps because of course the app has refreshed, which is why Sonia has the time to look over my shoulder.

"Missing dream boy’s dick so much you gotta spend your lunch hour ogling pics of him on the internet?"

I zoom in on the one of maybe!Mary in his underwear.

"Who does that look like to you?"

Sonia makes a guh sound in her throat and backs away.

"I don’t need to see your intimates!"

"That’s the thing! It’s not mine!"

"Your boy’s nudes get leaked??"

I wave my arms around.

"I don’t freakin’ know! They may not even be him. Fucking. C’mere and help me out!"

Sonia warily creeps back over, and so does Ryan, since all the yelling has attracted him.

The three of us peer over the phone as I scroll through the images again.

By the time Penny comes back with lunch, we’ve gone back and forth on who’s in the images—Mary or a fake—and I haven’t been able to do any actual research. The afternoon rush starts, and I have to table the whole thing again, having made no progress at all.

It isn’t until near-closing, when most of the other stylists have gone home—and it’s only June who does the post-work crowd—that I can really dig into the matter.

A deep dive and a couple of defunct, decade-old forums later, I find that what I took as an aspirational hashtag was actually the name of a zine called "Heroes."

There’s like, zero online trail about it—except for a few other grainy scans of other pages of articles, poetry, concert pictures, and art—but it seemed to be an early aughts missive for local underground culture and color.

It still doesn’t explain why Mary’s in there in various states of undress and poses.

Or why Mary has never said a word about it to me.

Stripped Bare

Mary settled into a sort of routine. He spent most days looking for a job—any job—with his backpack full of food from their dining hall. Most nights he rotated couches on different floors so the RAs didn’t notice that he basically lived there.

He made friends with Vegan Mick for about 5 seconds until Mary had eaten an entire Rotisserie chicken from 7-11 in front of him. Mick had launched into a whole spiel, and Mary had pointed out that Mick's jacket and Docs were made of leather. He’d only meant it as a joke—a callout in answer to a callout, like he'd do with his friends back home—but Vegan Mick had turned purple, then iced Mary out every time he saw him after that.

Oops.

The brief friendship had lasted long enough, however, for Mick to give Mary some tips and tricks of being homeless.

Homeless.

That had been a tough pill to swallow. Until Vegan Mick had put Mary’s situation like that, Mary had just thought of himself between places.

But it was true: he didn’t live anywhere. He skated by on the kindness of his new friends, and he didn’t know how much longer he could keep up the ruse of "transfer student who didn’t like his shithole apartment and was too busy job searching to concentrate on classes."

He still spent a few nights a week finding an out-of-the-way place outside to hunker down in or huddling in with Katie and a few of the other gutter punks under their boxes in the corners of the T stations. He knew they would have been more than happy to make room, anyway, but Mary always emptied his backpack of all the pilfered dining hall food for distribution amongst them.

It honestly wasn't so terrible now that he had friends and a warm place to go on cold or rainy nights, but.

He needed an actual place to live. To afford an actual place to live, he needed a job. To get a job, he needed a place to live.

It seemed like a catch-22, and he began to despair that he’d never get ahead…until Mandi offered him a leg up.

Mary was sitting on the grass in the Commons in the shade, thinking that with summer coming up, maybe he could fudge it until the gang came back in September. There was always Katie and The Pit, and Mary was sure he could chip in somehow.

Mandi sat down next to him.

"I thought that mess of hair was you, Mare."

"Hey, Mandi. What’s kicks?"

"You still looking for a job?"

Mary put his head in his hands and sighed.

"Don’t remind me."

"You over 18?"

Just last week. But Mary hadn’t said, since they thought he was a Sophomore.

"Yeah."

"Wanna be at least 21?"

Mary grinned at her.

"That’s what my fake ID says."

She laughed, a tinkling thing.

"You got anything against strip clubs?"

Mary furrowed his brows at her.

"Uh…what’s the right answer here?"

She shoved him playfully.

"Do you want a job?"

"Yeah?"

"Then say no."

"No. No problems with strip clubs." He squinted at her. "Are they looking for male strippers?"

She laughed again.

"Definitely not." She canted her head at Mary. "I mean, you're very pretty, Mare. I could probably put you on as one of the girls…even with these triple As," she flicked playfully at his nipple, which had him grunting and batting at her, "but I was thinking more behind the scenes."

Mary held up his arm and made a weak muscle.

"I don’t think I’d be much of a bouncer, Mands."

"You said you’d wash dishes, sweep floors and shit, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, the club I work at—"

"The club at you what now?"

Mandi gave him a strange look.

"Yeah. The strip club I work at."

Mary’s eyes bugged out.

"As a…waitress?"

"As a stripper, Mary. Duh." At his dumbfounded look she shook her head. "It’s kind of extra credit, as a dance major. I’m going to turn it into my thesis. Plus, I make hella bank."

She swept her arm across the park that made up her college "campus."

"How else do you think I can afford this rock-and-roll lifestyle? Not all of us are here on scholarship or mom and dad’s dime."

She tilted her head at him.

"I thought you’d get it."

When Mary didn't respond, she touched his shoulder.

"Mare. I know you don't go here."

"W-what…? I…"

He looked at her, wide-eyed as the blood drained from his face.

"Hey, it's ok. I'm not gonna tell anybody. Not if you don't want me to."

Mary looked down. "Thanks." He rubbed the back of his neck. "You know that means I've got no address."

Mandi bumped his shoulder and waved his words away.

"A lot of the girls dance. Paddy is used to dorm rooms as addresses. You can use mine."

Mary looked at her, hoping he could convey every ounce of gratitude he was feeling.

She grinned and punched him in the shoulder.

"So, you up for it? Sweeping floors and bussing tables?" She leveled a look at him. "Cleaning up puke?"

Anything.

"Fuck, I’m desperate, Mands. I’ll hold their hair back if it means a paycheck."

"That’s the spirit!"

***

Mary was sure Patrick was part of the mob—or at least in cahoots. The guy had taken one look at Mary’s ID and had said, "But how old are you really?" and Mary had said, "Nineteen."

Patrick had thrown up his hands. "Well, you ain’t gonna be serving alcohol anyway, kid. Your job is to do whatever I tell you. Some asshole breaks a bottle, you clean up the glass so the girls don’t hurt themselves. Some idiot ralphs all over the toilet seat, you scrub the shit out of that fucker. A bachelor party leaves a table a hot mess, you better be out there clearing off the table for the next one, got it?"

Mary had nodded.

"You show up at 5 to help the girls set up the bar. You stay til whenever it takes to close down—but you only get paid 'til 2am—and you get an hour to eat, unpaid. You don’t bother the girls, and," Patrick had leaned in, "you don’t steal from me."

Mary had gulped and nodded emphatically.

Patrick had jabbed a finger at him. "That includes the booze. If I get fucked because some snot-nosed, underage kid is drinking with my good friends Jim and Johnnie, I’m gonna be very put out."

"Got it, sir."

"Don’t call me sir. I’m Paddy to my friends, so you can call me Patrick."

"Yes, Patrick."

Patrick had looked him over.

"You get paid as an independent contractor just like the girls, so you gotta deal with your own taxes, you got that? I’ll start you at $10 an hour."

Mary’s eyes had gone wide. Back home he was lucky to get 5.

"Ten…?"

Patrick had tilted his head again.

"No, you’re right, 12. Do a good job, and I’ll think about raising it to 15."

Mary had to physically stop his jaw from dropping.

"You do weeknights for now so if you fuck up it’s not that much of a problem. If you don’t fuck up and the girls don’t hate you, you can get weekends. Deal?"

Mary had sat up straighter. "Deal." He’d held his hand out, but Patrick had just looked at it until Mary pulled it back into his side.

"Ariel vouched for you, so I’m giving you a shot. Don’t make her regret it."

Mary had shaken his head as Patrick had handed him some forms to fill out.

"Come back at 4 tomorrow with these and we’ll get you started. Now, get out, I got shit to do."

Mary had taken the forms and skedaddled.

Mandi was outside waiting for him, all smiles.

"Did you get it?"

"Yeah, but fuck—your boss is scary."

"Nah, he’s a teddy bear."

***

The job was awful.

The puke was an almost nightly occurrence, and by the end of the first week, little cuts covered Mary’s hands from the broken glass. The customers were loud, rowdy, and acted as if their mother was going to clean up after them.

Mary swore he would never get the beer smell out. It now lived in his soul.

One dude punched Mary and broke his nose for no reason Mary could tell before the bouncers dragged the guy away. The girls gave him some tampons to stop the bleeding, and Mary finished his shift.

Patrick paid Mary in cash at the end of every week with a "It’s your job to report that, not mine," and at the end of the month, Patrick bumped Mary up to $15/hr. He worked 5 days a week because, according to Patrick, "The Lord gave us a day of rest, and you get one day off per week."

Mary never reported a single cent to the IRS.

The girls loved him, and joked that Patrick had gotten them a pet. They showed him winged eyeliner and smokey eyes and how to contour. They guffawed when they watched him try out their shoes like a newborn deer. On slow nights, they tried to show him pole techniques.

He saw the gang less and less because by the time they were getting out of class, he was going into work, and when he was done work, they were crawling into bed. Fortunately, the desk sitters seemed to forget that he wasn’t an on-campus "student" and didn’t even bother signing him in anymore. There were a few sticklers, but Mary found that—while back home he was less than scum—here, he attracted all the right kinds of attention…and a smirk with the right compliment went a long way.

By the time their school year ended, Mary had saved up $1,000 (and he needed to transfer his money out of sock bank and into the ripped lining of his jacket).

Even though they didn't know just how much they'd saved him, Mary showed up on the last day as thanks to help them all move their stuff into family cars or rented trucks. They hugged him goodbye and said to ring them next semester.

Mandi bopped him on the nose and told him to keep his nose clean.

Mary took a sublet in Allston with 2 BU kids and a Berkley grad student. The "room" was a closed-in porch with a sleeping bag left by the last resident—but it was $400 a month until September, utilities included.

At first, Mary didn't know why the gang was so snobby about Allston, but the summer seemed to be one continual party. It didn't matter what day Mary got up, there were always broken beer bottles and stale beer on their front stoop, and the apartment had a designated watering can for washing away the vomit that dripped down from the top porches to their own.

But he took it in stride, and when he wasn’t at the strip club or sleeping, he was partying with the BU kids, or letting the Berkley grad show him better string fingering techniques.

Mary still tried to get out to The Pit with what groceries he could spare, but Katie had moved on with some of the others to do a protest tour with an activist street band that had come through town, and without her or the gang, it made Mary feel lonely.

By the end of the summer, Mary had saved up enough money for first, last, and security. He even had some left over to buy more than ramen and some new clothes. To Mary, it felt like a million dollars. He rented a garden-level apartment in the cheap part of Jamaica Plain for September 1st and spent that entire day with the BU dudes driving around in their rented truck for Allston Christmas’s best furniture finds.

Mary ended up with a mattress that he hoped on a wish and a prayer didn’t have bedbugs, a mismatched set of dishes, plastic drawers that were slightly warped, and a broken futon frame he swore he would fix. Throw in a few sets of slightly used string lights, and Mary’s cave felt downright homey.

When the gang got back, he simply told them he’d dropped out.

"Yeah, I just don’t think college is for me. Music’s my real passion, you know?"

Alex had groaned.

"I knew that Berkley kid was gonna be a bad influence on you."

Mary shrugged.

"My grades were shit anyway. But I’m still around, you know. The strip club’s only a block from campus."

"Because we saw you so much then," deadpanned Billy.

"Hey! Stop piling on Mary," said Vanity. "He’s following his path."

Mary shot her a wide smile.

"Thanks, Vanity."

Patrick finally gave him a little more leeway with his days off, and Mary started taking Saturday night to join the gang in Harvard Square for the shadow cast of Rocky Horror. One of Aaron’s classmates, Amber, was in it, and they all wanted to support her.

Mary felt that something again. That thing that told that this was his place and his people. This eclectic group who got up in front of strangers every week in their underwear for free enthralled Mary.

He and Amber bonded immediately, and Mary began going even without the gang. The cast welcomed him in as an honorary groupie, and Mary's friendship with the gang waned. There was still Mandi to cavort with at the strip club, but now when Mary wasn't there, he was at any one of the Rocky crew's apartments getting high and playing dress up.

"You’ve got such a Look, Mare," sighed Amber. "I’d kill for your cheekbones."

"I’d kill for your tits."

She slapped him playfully. "Don’t be gross."

"No, I’m serious. Someone once put it in my head that I'd be a hot chick."

The girls had giggled and proceeded to dress him up in bras and corsets with cutlets. They added a wig, and the glo-up surprised even Mary.

Still buzzed, they went out for girl’s night and hit up all the bars in Fenway and flirted their way to free shots from the dude bros before batting their falsies at bouncers to let them into the clubs ahead of the line and without the cover.

The cutlets eventually became a nuisance—and soon they were all flapping them about above their heads as they danced—but Mary had loved the feel of the lace and satin corsets against his skin.

When they’d all collapsed in a pile at the end of the night, Mary wondered if they’d tell him where to get some lingerie for himself.

***

By August, Mary was ready to quit the strip club.

He was tired of cut fingers (they were making it hard to play the guitar he’d bought), the drunks, and the sick everywhere. Now that he had a little cushion, he thought maybe he could at least find something with better hours.

Mandi had graduated and was well into a summer internship at Disney in hopes they’d bring her on as a dancer.

Alex had also graduated and moved out to LA to make it as a film editor.

Vanity and Aaron had started dating after finals, and they had moved in together in Cambridgeport for their last year.

Billy had stopped going to classes before dropping out altogether. No one seemed to know what happened, and when they called his home, his mother just said he was unavailable.

There didn’t seem to be much reason to stick around the Grid anymore, and it was a bitch of a commute back to his place if he wasn’t going to hang out with the Rocky crew. He landed a job at a record store that was walking distance to his apartment.

Patrick seemed surprisingly sad to see him go, saying, "Ah, the good ones smart up," and gave him a $500 bonus for not "fucking up."

Tim, one of the older Rocky people, turned out to not live too far from him, and when Mary started hanging out there, so did the party.

Now that Mary was no longer shackled by the strip club’s hours, his world opened a few more degrees. He spent his nights dressing up while he watched the cast rehearse. (When he showed them a move or two he learned from the women at the club, they tried to get him to do a guest star as Frank. But Mary had shaken his head and said that wasn’t the kind of performing he wanted to do.)

When they weren't rehearsing, they dragged Mary to TT The Bear’s, The Middle East, and The Milky Way Lounge for underground shows. They took him to fetish night at ManRay after a trip to Hubba Hubba for pleather and lingerie, and Mary made a lot of new friends.

Sometimes, Mary would show up to work straight off a night out in his club clothes, eyeliner smudged and lipstick smeared. It should have got him fired, but his boss just shrugged.

"I used to keep rockstar hours too."

Mary still wore all his old vestiges—his battle vest and his ripped jeans—it was just that now he sometimes added a corset and heels.

Wherever Katie was now, he hoped she knew he was still fucking their beauty standards.

ry.omen Insta

Answer Me This

I practically vibrate the entire way back to our place. I'm still trying to wring information out of the internet like it's too-wet clothes, but the only thing I accomplish is making myself motion sick on the bus, so I put my phone back in my pocket and breath through my nose.

When I get home, Mary is sprawled across the couch in his pjs with various limbs hanging over sides and edges as he watches some extreme sport show on my laptop.

I wonder if he just got up, but I see the start of dinner on the stove, so I decide not to snark at him.

"Hey," he says without looking up.

I am, however, gonna need some answers on "Heroes."

I gently close the laptop, and he meets my eyes.

"What?"

I climb onto the couch, and Mary’s limbs recede like vines to make room for me as I scroll through my phone to my photo app where I’ve saved screenshots.

"Lucy," I say in a terrible accent, "you have some ‘splaining to do!"

Mary squints at me and takes my phone, his expression morphing into one of surprise.

"Shit, babe. Where’d ya find these??"

"So they are you!"

He chuckles.

"Christ…I haven't thought about these in fucking years."

"Mind telling me what the fuck?" I ask, my hands on my hips.

I'm only half joking.

Mary grimaces at me.

"Ah."

"I'm gonna need more than that, mister."

He rubs the back of his neck.

"Fuck, you know those were hard times for me."

I know about his family, the homelessness. I know he tried out a lot until he found a life that fit. He'd given me the overviews with occasional anecdotes filled with names I never remembered.

But none of them included naughty pictures.

I worm my way under his arm.

"Yeah, I know, Mare."

His hand strokes down my arm.

"I mean, shit. I was kinda an asshole, you know?"

I wrap an arm around his chest.

"You're still kind of an asshole, Goore."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

When he doesn't say more, I poke him hard in the side.

"I’m literally dying here."

He laughs a little.

"Fine. But you gotta remember you asked."

Model Behavior

One day, Mary was walking down the street on his way to drinks with the new friends he'd made the weekend before. It was a good day. He wasn’t hungover as fuck, his makeup was only smudged artfully, and he was pretty sure he was going to get laid.

A guy in a leather jacket and tight jeans maybe a few years older than Mary stopped him on the street.

"Hey, man! I love your style."

Mary batted his eyelashes at him. "Thanks, dude."

"You ever think of dark modeling?"

Mary squinted his eyes at him.

"Dark what now?"

"You know—modeling but like," he gestured up and down Mary’s form, "for dark beauties. Show the world beauty isn’t cookie cutter."

"For like what? A website or some shit?"

The guy dug into his pocket, pulled out a card case, and handed one to Mary.

Heroes Greg Karson, Photographer/Web Design Butera School of Art

Actually, Mary had heard of this. It was a zine about the local happenings around town—concerts, art shows, parties, etc. There was a stack of them next to "Rrriot!" in the record shop. He’d flipped through one occasionally, mostly interested in the band reviews.

"We’re really on the lookout for anyone with the right look. You know, wear stuff you already own."

"So like a street fashion spread?"

"Well, we might do a little more with it, but—you know how it is. Most of the budget goes toward printing costs."

Mary perked up.

"Would I be paid?"

Greg laughed.

"Peanuts, my dude. But yeah. Even if it’s a T token. You interested, then?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Mind if I take a few test shots."

Mary smirked at Greg.

"How do you want me?"

"Just natural."

Putting his hands in his pockets, Mary arched his back and gave Greg his best snotty hipster face.

Greg dug out a digital camera from his carrying case and took a dozen or so pictures of Mary from different angles while telling him to turn this way or that.

Afterwards, the two of them huddled over the camera and scrolled through the shots.

"Aw yeah, this one. I love the attitude. The guys are gonna love it. You have a number where we can reach you?"

Mary gave him the number of the record shop. (His apartment had a phone, but he’d never gotten around to wanting to pay for service.)

Later, he and Amber looked up the Angelfire website on the back of the card. It was one page that contained the mission statement, bios of the creators, and locations to pick up the zine.

"Omigod—you’re gonna become a famous model, Mare!"

"Yeah, right. You know most of it ends up in the trash, right?"

But when Ben called, Mary said he was game. He directed Mary to a co-op in a converted warehouse in Dorchester, and Mary brought his favorite clothes in a borrowed duffle.

A girl in cat pajamas opened the door and pointed at a set of metal stairs with her cereal spoon.

On the second floor, Mary found Greg setting up a makeshift studio. A girl with multiple piercings and yarn dreads leaned against the wall in her black babydoll dress.

Mary sidled up to her.

"You here to model, too?"

She gave him an unimpressed once-over.

"I’m the art director, asshole."

Mary flushed hard as she turned to Greg.

"Couldn’t find one with brains?"

She turned back to Mary.

"I don’t know if you thought this would be a good way to meet chicks or what, dude. But I’m letting you know right now that I’m here on my day off to make sure this adheres to our aesthetic, so if you're not serious, fuck off."

Mary rubbed the back of his neck.

"Shit, sorry. I was expecting a dude named Ben."

She waved her hand in the air as if dispelling Ben.

"The Bens are morons. Good idea, terrible execution. I’m here to make sure we remain true to the idea of 'Heroes,' so don’t fuck up my shoot." She gave him a once over. "Christ. You have any experience?"

Greg turned from where he was testing the white balance.

"Angelique, stop harassing the talent. We get it, you have a degree from RISD."

Angelique snorted.

"As if I don't hear you going on and on about being a professional photographer. 'Hey, lemme shoot your portfolio, baby.' Whatever. As if we're not your only professional credit."

"Hey—you wanted a photographer for peanuts? You got me. You wanted models for peanuts? You got him."

Mary gave her his full snaggle-toothed grin.

"I take T tokens."

Angelique sighed, then pasted on a smile.

"Hi! So happy you’re here!" Her smile drooped. "You got your wardrobe in there?"

"Yeah."

Mary handed her the duffle, and she handed him release forms.

"Here: sign these"

She pawed through his offerings.

"Not bad, not bad." She pulled out a corset and his heeled boots. "We'll keep you in your jeans and have you wear your jacket over your corset. Cool?"

Cool.

The shoot was as professional as a shoot in a warehouse in what Mary was taking to usually be a living room could be. Angelique directed Greg with what she wanted. Greg called out positions and expressions for Mary to pose in.

It was surprisingly hard work, and by the end of a solid hour, his smirking lip was getting tired. Angelique and Greg scrolled through the shots, murmuring to themselves and nodding.

Mary waited—greeting at the other inhabitants as they squeezed by on their way either up or down—until Angelique approached him.

"That’ll do. You mind if we post on our website?"

Mary preened.

"Yeah, that’s kosher."

She handed him a pen and pocket notebook.

"Write down a quick bio."

He scribbled down a quick elevator pitch

Into general skulking and metal \m/

and handed the notebook back to her.

"Great, thanks."

She handed him a $20 bill, her eyes skimming him up and down.

"Next time we should show off those hip bones. Just jeans, I think."

Mary perked up. "Next time?"

"We’ll call you."

***

"Omigod, omigod!"

Amber perched on the record store counter, flipping through "Heroes," as Jon peered over her shoulder.

"Mary…look at you!"

Mary tried to swallow his smug smile.

Failed.

"Yeah. I’m hot shit, ain’t I?"

She bopped him on the nose with the newsprint.

"Don’t be vain."

He showed her his toothy smile.

"I like to think of it as confidence."

"So did Icarus."

Mary snorted and went back to putting prices on the new CDs.

"The camera loves you," said Jon, who was always quiet and reserved as you please…until he put on Frank’s corset and heels.

Mary had tried flirting with him, but Jon always ducked his head and played it off.

"Thanks, man," said Mary, giving him a softer smile.

"So??"

"So what, Amber?"

"Are you gonna do it again?"

Mary shrugged.

"I mean, if they call me, sure."

But he was kind of hoping they would.

When the next issue came out weeks later, Mary stared at the cybergoth on the pages and felt himself deflate. Listlessly, he thumbed through the delicate print, barely skimming the section devoted to the World/Inferno Friendship Society’s set he’d been at the week before.

He set it down with a sigh before he picked up his guitar and plucked out a tune he was trying to coax into a riff.

By the time a Ben called again, Mary had given up the modeling thing as a one-off.

"Hey, dude—thought maybe you guys forgot about me," Mary said in a teasing tone.

The Ben on the other end chuckled.

"It’s like herding cats to get shit out. Nah, dude—we definitely want you to be one of our regulars. You in for next Saturday?"

He was.

***

Over the course of a year, "Heroes" had Mary come out multiple times for shoots. Mainly, Mary wore his own clothes and did his own makeup, but occasionally, Angelique wanted something specific.

"How comfortable are you with boudoir shots?"

"With what?"

"Like a pinup, but more…saucy than sexy."

I'd pose nude if you paid me enough.

(Sure, he was a noodle boy, but he knew he had the goods.)

"Yeah, I’m cool with that."

Angelique brightened at him.

"Great!"

She picked up a set of complicated leather garters and thrust them at him.

"Put these on."

Mary had only ever worn lace garters—mostly out to clubs, but occasionally under his ripped jeans for an extra pop—but he found he liked these even more, liked the way they emphasized his thighs.

"Hey—where’d you get these…?"

(He was already thinking of what he could pair them with for goth night.)

"Local leatherworker. He mostly does pieces for Renn Fairs, but he'll also do custom. I can give you his info."

She led Mary into what was clearly someone's bedroom.

"Don't fuck anything up, or Joye will never let us use this again."

Mary shot her his best shark smile.

"Hey, I only mess up the sheets if someone asks."

Angelique gave him a flat look and called for Greg.

(But when he draped himself over the bed and told Greg to "Paint me like one of your French girls," Mary could have sworn she almost smiled.)

On one memorable occasion, she brought in a guy whose rope bondage demo she watched at a sex convention.

"Put on some of that lingerie and we'll truss you up. You ok with that, Goore?"

Mary ran his fingers over the coils and gave her a wolfish smile.

"You know I'm game for anything."

She gave him a vulpine smile of her own then, and she looked down at him from the height of her platformed boots.

"Good. I thought you should be submissive for once."

Mary had no witty rejoinder for that.

He listened with interest as the guy carefully explained what he was going to do, complete with pictures, and he relaxed easily into the process. (They put bunny ears on him, and it would be much, much later that he got that particular joke. Well played, Angelique.)

The ropes hadn’t let him do much posing, but Mary had kind of liked the constriction, and his thoughts were already on asking Amber to help him create a more versatile version for fetish night.

He’d left that day with a new kink…and the guy’s number.

"Why not just do one big shoot?" he asked another time. "Get it all done in one big bang!"

Angelique held up his garments to eyeball over him.

"Honey, we never even know if there's gonna be a next issue. The Bens spend most of the time arguing. My god you should hear them—Ben bankrolls the whole thing, so he says he should get final say on shit, and Benji wants total artistic control because it was his idea, because 'he's the graphic designer', and because it's his Kinko's employee discount they use."

She gave Mary a curled-lip smile as she tossed a few items at him.

"In the end it's this bitch you're looking at who gets shit done."

Mary began to change (they were long past modesty).

"How'd you get involved?"

"Went to school with Benji."

"Ben too?"

"Neg. The Bens are childhood friends. Ben works some cushy start-up job, so Benji lets him bankroll them both. Rent, utilities—everything. I love Benji to death, but he's a giant mooch."

"Shit, that must be nice."

Angelique shrugged. She stood back to appraise Mary's look.

"It's fucking lame. But it least it gets us fucking paid."

Mary didn't say I'd do this for free. Instead, he struck a pose and said, "I'm just happy for the exposure."

Angelique rolled her eyes and went to fetch Greg.

***

That year and a half would become a nonstop party with Mary as one of the VIPs; he wouldn't say no to anything—be it casual sex, club appearances, or whatever drug the current pretty thing was offering him in the bathroom.

But recognition started slow.

At first, it was customers who would leaf through the zine and recognize Mary.

Then, it was the occasional scenester who’d stop him on the street in JP as he walked about, and Mary would pose for grainy cell phone pics.

Soon, he was being approached at shows and clubs. The first time it happened, Mary was high off his new infamy and ready to please. A woman in a black bandage bra and pleated skirt with bondage straps approached him, and Mary was already thinking of what he could do with those.

"You look like that guy in ‘Heroes’!" she'd shouted to him over the music.

Mary had flashed her a crooked smile and leaned in.

"Maybe I am the guy in ‘Heroes’."

She'd given him an exaggerated once over before sidling closer with hooded eyes.

"I dunno…you're wearing way more clothes."

Mary had pulled his mesh top down by the collar in a tease as he'd curled over her.

"Take me somewhere more private and I’ll let you do a comparison."

She'd compared him all night.

And that was before he and the other "Heroes" models formed their own posse.

The Bens had thrown a BBQ and had invited everyone they'd ever met. There were people packed into their little 2 bedroom in Brighton, spilling down the back stairs, and equally packed into the little square of shared backyard. Ben had taken the 12-pack of 'Gansett beers Mary had brought, then introduced him to the other dark models.

"Now you're all here!" said Ben. He slung his arm around Mary. "Guys, this is Mary. Mary this is Mayhem, Lesley, Lola, and Bryan."

Mayhem was a rivethead, and Mary took to him instantly, but he was wary of the others. Lesley was the cybergoth who'd been in the first issue after him, and Mary still felt a bit salty at them, even though Mary knew by now the Bens rotated the models. Lola, the romantic goth, reminded him enough of Vanity that he felt guilty for losing touch with her and had him projecting a little. Bryan was a metalhead, so: competition.

Mary had thought they'd get along like cats and water, but weed, booze, and "Never Have I Ever" went a long way to creating a shared bond.

And there it was again. That pull. The magnetic force telling him that he'd found the place he was supposed to be. They quickly coalesced into their own pack, calling themselves the "Deathbutantes" (because they always killed it when they debuted for the night).

It had been rare for Mary to miss Friday and Saturday night shenanigans with the Rocky crew, but now, every night was Friday night. There was always a show or a concert or club that one of them knew about—and if they couldn't get lucky with the local color, they'd just go home with each other.

Mayhem taught Mary what Lola jokingly called the "grab a bat" dance, and the two of them cut quite the picture on the dance floors.

Lesley took to Lola, and the two of them could always be counted on for scintillating conversation in dark corners when Mary's limbst needed a break from flailing about.

The clubs weren't really Bryan's scene—take him to a sticky hole in the wall with concrete floors and a stage close enough to feel the sweat from the bands, and he was in heaven—but he liked to come along to hang. He'd drink PBRs, rub Lola's feet when she invariably abandoned her heels for the evening, and argue with Mary about the purity of death metal.

Mayhem and Lola weren't really into live music of the screaming kind, so—while Lesley, Bryan, and Mary bounced off each other in the mosh pits—they'd save a "home" base at one the bartops.

Amber noticed Mary's diminishing presence and stopped by the record shop to call him out.

"So you're not dead! Could've fooled me."

Mary was organizing the albums into order, and he grunted at her.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm a cad. I'll make it up to you."

"You missed game night."

"Sorry. Jethro Tull played some tiny venue in nowhere Mass, and Bryan was salivating. I mean, Jethro Tull. Can you blame me?"

He looked at her, arms out wide in supplication. But she just blinked at him.

"You have no idea who Jethro Tull is, do you?"

"Sorry, dude. But christ, Mare. You should have invited me. I'd've gone. Maybe I would have even liked them. Now you'll never know."

"I could just lend you an album."

"Nope! The moment passed. Too late!"

Mary riffled through the stock and shoved a Jethro Tull CD into her hands.

She tapped it against her thigh.

"So, when do I get to hang?"

"I can get us into 80s night free."

"No, I mean, with your cooler friends. Your 'murder models', or whatever."

"You wanna hang out with the Deathbutantes?"

Amber scrunched her nose.

"That's so fucking pretentious."

Mary kind of liked it.

"Dunno if they're really your scene."

"Oh? And what's my scene?"

"Musical theater on crack."

She mock gasped at him, "Called out!" before smacking him with the CD. "Whatever. You love musical theater on crack."

Mary draped his arm around her shoulders.

"Yeah, I do. But I don't live it, you know? You guys have your niche—and fuck…I love to visit—but it's not mine."

Amber looked up at him, her expression serious.

"So the Dumbutantes are your niche?"

Mary shrugged and went back to shelving.

The Rocky crew had been good to him. They'd taken him under their wing, no questions asked, and helped him realize things about himself. Tim had taken him to the ER when Mary had come down with a serious case of the flu. Matty had taught him the basics of sewing. Gretchen had held him after a bad trip. Omar and he had had many drunken heart-to-hearts about their shitty home lives.

And Amber was his best friend. She'd been his #1 cheerleader for years and had never been afraid to call him out on his shit.

So yeah, he loved the Rocky crew…but they laughed at anyone who took anything too seriously. Mary would show up to game nights in his latest creation—with everyone else in pjs or jeans & hoodies—and they'd tease him about trying to impress the wrong people. He'd try to talk about the newest guitar god he'd been mainlining, and they'd make snoring noises at him.

How could he explain the kinship he felt with the Deathbutantes? That they were as serious about music as he was, that they just…got why he felt the need to dress the way he did to express the way he felt inside on his outside.

Instead, he said, "I'm just trying shit out, Ambs." He quirked his eyebrow at her. "I gotta do something while you guys do your real-person jobs."

(Amber had recently started as a junior marketing assistant at the American Repertory Theater. "Purely mercenary," she'd said. "Maybe it'll give me a leg up during auditions.")

She made a disgruntled scoffing noise in the back of her throat.

"Fuck, don't remind me. I actually gotta go to bed a reasonable hour now."

"Don't worry." Mary winked at her. "I'll keep ya honest."

"That sounds a lot like my head in a toilet, Mare."

"I'll hold your hair back."

She gave him a good-natured shove, and he pretended to cower.

If she wanted to cross pollinate, who was Mary to stand in her way? So, he invited her out the next time the Deathbutantes went to a show, and it went exactly like he thought it would.

They disliked her, and she was equally unimpressed. They thought she was too loud and frenetic, and she thought they had no sense of humor.

"I fucking told you," Mary had snorted as they sat on the curb sharing a clove.

"Shut the fuck up, Mare."

But she'd put her head on his shoulder.

"They make you happy, though. So I guess I approve. Just as long as I don't have to play nice."

Mary still hung out with the Rocky crew—there were still game nights and drug-fueled sex parties and theater games—but the Deathbutantes introduced him to the underground scene. They always seemed to have insider knowledge about the best up-in-coming bands and the secret shows. Theme nights at the goth clubs were always a must, and they rarely missed one. Sometimes, Angelique would crash, and they'd take the commuter rail to Providence to party at Club Hell before collapsing in a sweaty, smeary pile at a friend of a friend's hole in the wall.

As a bit player in the Rocky crew, Mary had been another made-up face in the crowd. As a certified member of the Deathbutantes, Mary became the face.

They all did.

The owners loved them because they bought round after round at the bar, and if word got out that the Deathbutantes were there, their admirers came to spend money as well. The employees loved them because they were fun and talked to them as equals. The clientele loved them because they were pretty young things.

Sometimes, though, Mary wasn't in the mood to party or get laid, so he talked to the DJs instead. He'd buy them rounds and stay past closing to help them pack up while they talked about the history of punk and 80s new wave and nu metal. There was one in particular, Dave, that Mary even considered a friend.

The two of them would sit in the club past closing, sharing a whiskey and talking about life while the bartenders closed down and cashed out. Occasionally, Dave's other friends would be around, and they'd all walk back to his place; he'd fool around spinning in his home studio, and they'd drink box wine as they danced and laughed before Mary would have to sit on the ground in an intoxicated exhaustion, good for only thumbing through Dave's vinyl collection.

Mary was just happy to talk shop with another music aficionado, but Angelique had pointed out that he should leverage his minor clout.

They'd been waiting for Greg to finish setting up, and Mary had been struggle city after a particularly hard night out. It was all he could manage to sit there quietly and hope some god would put him out of his misery.

"You need to get your shit together," Angelique had said out of nowhere.

Mary had cracked a puffy eye and had slowly (as to not bring the nothing in his stomach back up) turned his head to her.

"As if I haven't seen your melted ass on the floor wanting to die."

"Fuck, Mary. You've turned it into an art form."

He'd closed his eyes and given her the finger, but that hadn't stopped her.

"You wanna be a rockstar, boy? You can't just sit on your ass and hope the right person on the right night hears you. You're effervescent and charismatic—heads turn when you walk into a room and not just because of your skinny jeans—but you need more than air, Mary, which is all you are right now."

"Fuck you, Angela."

She'd clapped in front of his face, and she was lucky he didn't Exorcist bile all over her.

"You're a fucking pain in my ass, Goore. I'm doling out the good stuff, try not to bite my hand off, k?"

"All right, all right!"

"You wanna start that band? You wanna get play and amass fans? Well, make that demo you're always droning on about and give it to those DJs you're alway fanboying over. Fucking network, Goore."

At the time, Mary had been too hungover to care, but her advice would sink in…

Eventually.

For the time being, Mary was content. He loved the attention, and it made him feel invincible, made him feel like it was finally His Time. And he was going to make up for every slight, every unfair situation, and every beat down with sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll.

With his newfound nightlife, Mary's day job had become an afterthought. He started sleeping through opening shifts, but with the extra foot traffic Mary brought to the store, his boss seemed resigned to let Mary slide (after a stern talking to and a pay docking).

The shadow cast had started using him as a mascot of sorts, and he was happy to show up on Saturday nights and hype up the waiting line with a pseudo striptease. (Even if it was sometimes to kick off his evening with the Deathbutantes and not hang with the cast after.)

Mary started a band ("auditioning" any and all of the many admirers who said they’d be more than happy to join it), and after a few false starts and a couple of lineup changes, they began working on an EP. (At least, when Mary showed up to rehearsal, they did.)

A Boston Phoenix reporter got wind of the Deathbutantes and called around about doing a story on them. The Bens were excited about the exposure that meant for their zine, and Angelique and Greg were excited about what it could mean for their careers. Mary did a brief interview over the phone where he answered questions about his style and talked about his dream of making his band a household name.

Mary saw his name up in lights, and he was reaching for it, full speed ahead.

But then things turned.

The story fell through at the last minute with no further explanation or contact by the reporter.

His boss finally fired him after Mary showed up too high to function too many times—or not at all.

The shadow cast had a turnover, and suddenly he was old news—a cringey hanger-on.

A trip to the clinic and a round of antibiotics for an STI had him way more wary of who he hooked up with.

"Heroes" lost momentum when imitators popped up and Ben cut off the gravy train.

Angelique moved to NYC for "better opportunities," and the Bens took their brand of counterculture to Portland, OR.

Greg took down the website when he got offered a legit job as an apprentice at a food magazine, and that was that.

The physical zines were cheap things, most ending up papering the sidewalk after trash day or lining the bottom of cages. Without the online presence, did Mary's "modeling career" even exist?

Mary was a little sad to see the era go, but when he woke up in Maine on the hood of some girl's car and only a hazy recollection of how they'd gotten there, he was beginning to see Angelique's point. He needed to get his shit together if he was ever going to become a rockstar. And frankly, he kind of felt like he needed to spend an entire month eating carrots and hydrating.

The 24/7 party had always been an ephemeral thing; it had been sand passing through his hands in a finite amount as he'd tried to hold onto it

He put himself on detox, and waking up sober for the first time in months felt like a revelation. And as it turned out, playing the guitar without badly shaking hands was way, way easier.

He found another job in another music store, and his starter!band was bringing butts into the smaller venues, like Toad.

He still had his old Rocky friends and the Deathbutantes. The club and venue owners still let him in for free, and Dave was always happy to give his demos a spin. By anyone's else's measure, he was steal one of the scene's darlings.

But Mary was beginning to realize that he needed to stop seeing himself as that scared kid who’d arrived in Boston 4 years ago with only a backpack, $72.57 to his name, and void where his family should be.

He needed to stop finding people to please into loving him.

Instead, he needed to live for himself and let them love him for who he was—fuck ups and all.

@slimylayne

Epilogue

"Honestly, that’s probably the reason I even got a band together," he says. "I was still kind of shit at guitar, but people came to see ‘Model Mary’ perform in his underwear."

He shoots me a smirk.

"I’m sure there’re pictures out there of me looking more glam than metal. I kind of played up the whole pinup thing for a while."

"Fuck, I would kill, literally kill to see that."

He pulls me into his lap until I’m straddling him.

"I could open up my underwear drawer and show you right now."

"Goore, you temptress."

I lean down to kiss him, and his hands sneak under my shirt, but I pull away again.

"I kinda thought I knew all your torrid secrets by now. Shit, how come Dave's never needled you about it?"

After 2 years with him, I’m surprised I hadn't even heard a peep from his oldest friend.

Mary snorts.

"Dave would miss shit hanging off his nose. Great dude, amiable as fuck, but he's always had fucking tunnel vision for his music."

I smirk at him.

"Sounds like someone else I know."

Mary pulls a face at me, and I apply kisses to every line until he laughs and bats me away.

"But really, Mare—how come you never told me about your brief career in blue steel?"

He blows out a breath, his hands smoothing up my thighs.

"Fuck. Cuz maybe I was a little embarrassed at how off the rails I was then, ok? Didn't want you to know what I fuck up I was." He takes my hand and kisses my palm. "And even I know it's a shit move to pitch woo at someone by telling them about banging half of Boston."

I make a face at him, and he laughs.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought."

His hands rest on my waist.

"Christ, everything about that year's a bit fuzzy, and it was like 10 years ago. Sometimes it feels like it happened to someone else, honestly. And shit—most of those people aren’t even around anymore. College kids who moved on and 20-somethings that grew up and moved who knows where. I used to watch Amber have—what is it when it’s four people?—and now she lives in bumblefuck Pennsylvania with 3 kids. After she left, I just kinda drifted away from all that."

He shrugs, his eyes downcast.

"I’m sorry, Mare," I say as I smooth his eyebrows.

He shrugs again.

"I mean, we all kinda keep in touch. It's like the only reason I have Facebook."

"When was the last time you even signed into that?"

Mary grins at me.

"Lola's birthday."

"One of the models? What happened with them?"

Mary bites his lip and thinks.

"Mayhem found religion after an OD and kinda ghosted everyone. Lesley followed a girl to New Hampshire. Uh…Lola pursued a PhD for something sciencey involving renewable energy with sugar beets in Idaho, and Bryan moved back to Florida to care for his grandma, who raised him."

Mary leans his head back on the couch and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"I mean, shit. We were fucking babies back then. Head empty except for a good time and unlimited potential."

I run my fingers through his hair.

"You miss it?"

His eyes pop open to look at me.

"Fuck no. Not for a million dollars. Too many question marks." His eyes glint as he runs his hands down me. "I like what I got going on right here."

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and kiss his forehead. The fucking sap.

Mary picks up my phone and scrolls through the pictures again.

"Fuck. I used to be goddamn adorable, though. Half this shit wouldn’t even fit me anymore."

I squish his little potbelly, and he grunts at me indignantly.

"Do you still have any originals?" I ask.

He shakes his head, his eyes wistful and his smile sad.

"Nah. Got destroyed when my roof collapsed and leaked everywhere. Fuck, landlords are useless. Glad we fucking own now, babe."

He scrolls up, scrolls back down.

"Just these four?"

I nod.

"Yeah. They were the only ones I found—and I did a lot of searching."

"Christ, I think there were at least 10."

I smile ruefully at him. "It’s not gonna be long anyway before they make their way into the popular tags and shit starts coming out of the woodwork."

He tosses my phone onto the table.

"Whatever. Just shows that I’ve always been cool."

And then he’s kissing me again, his hand tangling in my hair.

"You know, I’m your family now, Mare. Just for you."

He brings my hand up and kisses it.

"Fuck, I know that. Why’dja think I put a ring on it?"

[mymadmedleyw]

Death

(ao3), belongs under Certain Moment of Time, could be read independently, just as each for the days will be shorts, but all together forming a whole picture

(As this is the last chapter within the 'Going Angst Week 2021', a little reminder about the right order in reading the chapters chronologically (I suggest CMOT link): 4, 6, 2, 5, 3, and 7, 1)

tw: miscarriage

---

Blood. One could say after seeing it many times, sensing its rusty, salty odour within the air might have lost the sensibility to it after a while. But it never ceased on the weight if it was about loss, about death.

Then it always changed to the horrible, suffocating disinfectant scent with the white surrounding and the sound of silent sobs. Just as this time. They didn't even dare to count for how many occasions they ended up here, broken and devastated.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…" mumbled for like the thousand times the hollow voice. "It's all my fault, I shouldn't have- I shouldn't have-" the sentence trailed off by another chuckling, squeezing hard on his hand that was holding hers, never letting it go.

Every attempt, every hopeful try led back here and- and it just twisted his heart, seeing, again and again, the slightly greyishly paled skin that years ago was beaming. Years ago…

Suddenly the picture of the small child in her arms came back, like that could have been a mirage. Sadly, he was well aware it wasn't, that happened, but- what he had done wrong?

Vlad pressed his forehead on her, taking the same question that he was asking from himself during the past few years. Why he hadn't told her? It was the same damn question, but with a different meaning this time. Time… yes, that it was.

He clearly could remember the day in the hospital bed, staring at the black and white photograph, bringing for them good news again… and then he couldn't tell what had happened, but he had woken up with years of memories in his mind and- and then as he had sat up, holding his throbbing head someone put a hand on his shoulder, asking with the greatest concern if he was okay.

It had needed hours to understand it wasn't a dream, and by lunch – made by the most amazing woman on the Earth – his mind settled too.

As much weird it was, but this was the truth. Madeline Masters. His wife. Also aware of his state – that they, according to his new-old memories, together tried to keep at bay. He knew he lied to her about its seriousness. That she only was informed about the simply side-effects: floating, invisibility and intangibility, sometimes glowing hands – but she had no conscious about the rest, about the other form… (which learning from a memory surprised Vlad too).

He kept then on with that lie, just as with the other one too, that somehow, he remembered a time when everything was different.

It worked for years. To tell the truth, Vlad forgot everything after their first positive test, even after the second, or the third, but-

Then he didn't dare to count. He couldn't recall anymore the days when she was happy – except in that other life. He slowly was destroying her, breaking the sweet image of his love… He tried to tell her several times to give up, but as much as stubborn she was, like feeling she should have been a mother, she never listened.

Then he eventually had run some tests (surprisingly facing with the result wasn't even his worst day, because his worst day was now…). The accident in the lab, five years ago ruined his biology. It was his fault. Vlad had been on to tell her, several times really, that they- that they wouldn't ever have a child, but- but he had been afraid. He still was afraid. He was a coward, fearing to lose her, so then he never told her, but now…

"Daniel…" a hollow, weak breath was formed into a name. "I thought- I chose- I really thought this time…"

"It's okay…" Vlad whispered, fighting against the suffocating guilt.

Daniel… he almost could imagine a view of a boy with her kindness, smartness and maybe with his steel bright eyes, and-

A soft sniffling broke the silence in the room, he knew it would take days and weeks to calm her down (or months, especially that this time she really had hoped…). But then she would return to her obsessed determines, again, not giving up until she would be able to fight for it…

But Vlad couldn't watch it, not again. This time, it had endangered her life too. He just couldn't let it happen, not anymore… especially as the date slipped into his mind. It was the same as on the letter, containing the black and white picture of their second child… she would have been expecting her second and-

He bit his lips as hard as it drew blood, rusty, salty and sinner. The sound of the woman, the so loved Maddie died away in a faint snuffling, undoubtedly dreaming about a great life he couldn't give her… Even though Vlad was conscious of their reality, he still wished to fulfil her dreams…

Wish… suddenly his eyes snapped open, remembering word-to-word to his half-mumbled sentence before everything had changed and he had woken up in this dream (nightmare…).

Would it be that easy? –Vlad wondered, sceptical about such childish way, but then he grabbed on it, tight, as ridiculous it sounded, and he'd have literally killed to make her happy. So then, he opened his mouth, already putting together what he wanted to say, and then-

"Won't work." stopped him an abrupt voice, then the owner cleared it. "I set the rules with Desiree. She is not allowed to grant any timeline-altering wishes, unless I allow it." Vlad blinked at the sudden presence of someone else, searching with his eyes immediately to catch the person, but there was no sign of anyone, just a quiet ticking sound was telling someone was definitely there.

A moment passed in silence, making Vlad wondering about if he hallucinated the voice, but then it spoke again. "Clockwork, by the way, Master of Time – though it's rather a given title than a name. Theatrical, isn't it?" Vlad scoffed at the unmistakable enjoying waving of the words, whoever this ghost was – because, based on the invisibility it was undoubtedly an unearthly creature from the other realm –, he clearly was amused by this scenario.

"What do you-?" Vlad started, frustrated by the spectre's presence and mocking.

"Want?" was Vlad interrupted. "From you? Nothing… albeit your stubborn wish created a glitch that didn't suppose to exist. A knot, that tangled the flow of events, blinding me. In short," the ghost took a break. "you scarred the time." well, that definitely sounded like a lecture… but then, the title slipped into his mind, along with the accounting for: Master of Time.

"You can make it back…" Vlad pieced together. "You can change on the time, change on this all." he couldn't tell if it scared him or filled with him hope, but definitely that drew out a way – more like an alternative – after the wish-one. For a short time, the ticking skipped a beat, like the ghost would have been stuck on a thought, but then talked again.

"Yes, I can change on this all." was Vlad's sentence, almost exactly repeated. He didn't have to be a genius, to feel it wasn't an admitting. "But I won't." was it added, not even a second later. "I might be responsible to watch over the timelines, and every single outcome, but on this, I am afraid, I can't do anything. You created it, it's your duty to fix it, and decide." Vlad stunned. Decide what exactly? This or- that? It wasn't an actual question, he could give the answer easily, but-

Suddenly he averted his gaze from the space where he suspected the ghost was floating invisibly – getting on his nerves by that – then he looked back to the woman, gazing at his wife, and gently got out a long curly lock of hair that fell into her face. She seemed so calm, pale, yes, shattered by the tired wrinkles under her closed eyes, and…

"I see you already made your decision." Vlad heard the cursed voice again. He didn't have to guess to know his eyes were burning red, clenching his jaw and fighting inside to not lash out at the ghost, transforming to his other outlook and end the ghost, it that was even possible in case of a timeless existence. Was it really counted as entertainment for him? This?!

"It's not a decision." Vlad spitted.

"No, it really isn't." said the ghost sternly, accompanied by a sound that gave an impression like an old clock would have been adjusted, bored by the current discussion as if it had been something obvious, or expected. "But I am seeing no future over this certain moment, neither in this time or your original one. Just imagine, how it could be to be blind after millennia. Curious, I was for centuries to learn what it caused. Well, it turned out it was just a desperate hybrid's wish, fighting against his true nature, cornering himself to endless suffering than accepting the new him… comical, isn't it?"

It felt harder and harder to hold back and stay unmoved listen to the words, but as much as he loathed hearing it, if this Clockwork could mean the solution from this, then-

"Besides, what happens now, how you decide, is beyond me, I can't see through it, until it happens." defined the being, at the same time out of nowhere a swirling green-ness formed in the air. It was similar to the Proto-Portal, which Vlad had seen many years ago, but this was enough big for anyone to walk through it. "It's either this time or the other one, the knot you created still makes the connection available. But it has to end. Only one could remain."

Vlad swallowed, lost in the neon colour, like an unescapable doom that followed him everywhere. He remembered his time, his muscles still could recall the seizures, the endless days in that hospital room, and reading about his friends' perfect life against his… the ghost was right, he had been desperate, now he could control his other side, but it could be only thanked to Maddie, this Maddie… in that other world, he was nothing but- he was literally nothing… here, now, on the other hand, he had the love of his life, but still-

Suddenly, he put together no matter how he'd choose, what path he'd take, it would turn his heart a stone, destroying by the ghost's words the other time. But then, he took a glimpse at the resting woman, at his Maddie, silently sleeping unaware of another being's presence in the room, only lost in a dream-world her mind created. For a moment, he wondered about the possibilities, about the alternatives, but then, hard, Vlad realised it was out of the question.

He never felt his limbs as heavy as he stood up from the chair, earlier placed beside the hospital bed, to mean support Maddie after the loss... And he never felt more hatred towards anyone – even towards Jack – that now took over his entire body about the ghost.

"I really hope, you are able to see your so cherished future now." Vlad cursed, the sourness and hurt suffocated him from inside as he took a step towards the greenness.

"I do." acknowledged the Master of Time, but not spilling anything else, what it would mean or how things would turn out. But Vlad knew even if the ghost was aware of some outcome, he wouldn't be informed about those. As Vlad disappeared behind the gate between the two realities, he took himself a promise, to somehow, when everything had settled, whatever it would take, he would find Clockwork and claim justice.

[pm-my-hubbies]

Best Years | R.C.

Requested by @imawreckandiknowit

Pairing: Rafe x Female!Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warning: a bit of angst with fluff

Song Prompt List

You've got a million reasons to hesitate

But darling, the future is better than yesterday

I wasted so much time on people that reminded me of you

Gave you a million reasons to walk away

Of all the moments I envisioned for myself, Rafe Cameron climbing through my bedroom window with sweat slicking that forehead of his was an image I never conjured. He radiated confidence whenever and wherever, never seeking out help because he believed it was for the weak. However, he stood before me after pleading for my hand in an idea I’ve constantly tried to push to the back of my mind.

I’m in love with him. I could take the leap forward but everything we’ve been through prevents me from doing so. That one brief period between us, the one time we did give intimate moments a shot had been ripped away from me. He was quick to move on as I sobbed in my shower for months until the water ran cold of slithering down my back. Yet... I remained close to him.

I stayed by his side through all three relationships, patting him on the back to ease his pain. In reality, I was breaking inside because his tears for other girls confirmed his love died for me. Now, he stood before me claiming the opposite.

“You could’ve walked away.” His voice broke the tension before us after his first set of words. “But you didn’t. Why?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know R—”

“Don’t give me that Y/N.”

“Then don’t ask stupid questions. You know why I didn’t walk away Rafe and I’m not gonna say it.”

He only stared, confirming what I knew to be true. “You’re right. I can’t play dumb.” He dragged himself over to my bed and placed himself on the disheveled sheets with his head hung low. “The answer finally came to me today. The whole time, I built up this image that you had moved on and you were done with me. It was my fault we ended things back then. So, I chased after every girl that reminded me of you and when we ended things... it hurt.” He picked his head up, gazing into my eyes with watery ones. “They walked away with your traits and I felt like that was all I had left of you.”

I couldn’t watch him eat himself away anymore with the memories he had to relive. My legs climbed his sitting frame, straddling both sides of his body. “Rafe, why did you do it?”

“I felt like I wasn’t ready.” He answered, his hands sliding up my waist. “Yes, I have all of the money in the world to give you. But I felt like I wasn’t on your level yet. You’re smart, sweet, unique. You’re everything a guy could want and I wasn’t that yet.”

His thumb moved up to swipe my cheeks. I watched him remove it from where they were to see a clear liquid caught under the moonlight peeking through my window. God, I can’t be seriously crying.

“That’s not your decision to make, Rafe. That’s my own. I decide if we’re the right match and... I honestly thought we were perfect for each other. We balanced one another out. I missed that.”

“I know, I do too. And I’m sorry for just everything I’ve put you through.”

“I’m still here right?” I acknowledged with a gentle smile.

“You are. And I don’t wanna leave you again. I wanna be right here. With you.”

But I'll build a house out of the mess and all of the broken pieces

I’ll make up for all of your tears

Pictures I’d long forgotten in the comfort of my attic polka-dotted the walls in the tiny living room. Two currant red sofas protected a wooden coffee table standing in the middle with issues of my favorite magazines spread out on the surface. The stand beneath the flat screen consisted of Rafe’s and my Blu-Ray favorites, as well as the dust-free PS4 and brand new PS5.

“So, what do you think?” Rafe questioned from behind. “Do you like it?”

Once upon a time, this apartment reeked of Rafe Cameron. He was a man that only spoke for himself and never me. But now, since we’d been taking things slow the past couple of months, he flipped the switch to assure me this place was now ours.

I belong here, is what he wanted to inform me. He’s not the best with words to tell me I have a place in his life. So, his actions spoke for himself.

I swiveled on the balls of my feet to grin at him with love coating my eyes. “I love it.

I'll give you the best years

I'll give you the best years

Past love burned out like a cigarette

I promise, darling, you won't regret

The best years

Beth from Chem was back in town. According to the locals, it was rumored she’d regretted ending things with Rafe and was back to whisk him into her arms. They’d even went as far as informing her that he was now with me (and more than likely for good) but her stance didn’t budge.

Currently, we were throwing daggers at one another. She’d been trying all night to gain the attention of my boyfriend through initiating the conversation or offering to be his team mate for beer pong. Truthfully, it was embarrassing to watch as Rafe shot her down every time and the eyes on the onlookers shifted to one another in amusement. We all knew her motives.

“Stop looking like that, you’re gonna form wrinkles.” the man of the hour chastised me with a shake of his arm as it was looped on my shoulders.

“I can’t help it when your ex is the one who started it.” I answered, gritting my teeth.

“Who?”

“You know who.” I slapped his arm.

Seeing him chuckle phased me. The old Rafe would’ve hopped at the opportunity of some girl ogling him, especially if the girl happened to be a previous fling. When we were friends, he’d slip away to take care of business with the young woman and I’d watch from afar with longing eyes, wishing I were the one he chased for the evening. Even when we were briefly together, I could feel his hesitance in wanting to stick around but the dumb me pushed it aside for selfish and desperate reasons. This new guy that clung to me like a koala hugging a tree pulled me closer to plant a kiss on the crown of my head.

“I know baby. But I’m not going anywhere. And she can try all she wants but it’s not happening. Not now, tomorrow, or ever.

“Just you and me?”

“You and me.”

I wanna hold your hair when you drink too much

Carry you home when you cannot stand up

You did all these things for me

When I was half a man for you

I wanna hold your hand while we're growing up

As I hacked the contents of the evening into the toilet, Rafe’s hands grabbed my hair to pull it into a makeshift ponytail. His free hand rubbed soothing circles into my hunched back. Embarrassment ran through my body at the sight of him having to see me like this.

Once I was sure I was finished, he aided me in standing to my feet to cleanse my mouth of the harsh taste. His hold on me remained even when I placed my orange toothbrush inside my mouth.

I spit some of the toothpaste into the sink. “That was fucking embarrassing.”

“Really Y/N?”

“What? I’m just saying. I don’t want you to see me like that. Ever again. I’m not drinking that much anymore.”

He didn’t say anything. His mouth was a thin line and his eyes observed me from the mirror as I finished my business of cleaning my mouth. Before I could exit the bathroom, his arm jutted out to halt my movements.

“Look at me.” He commanded in a soft but firm tone. I did as instructed. “You’re gonna be sick and I’m gonna do the same thing. You’re gonna probably go back on your word and drink that much again and guess what? I’m still gonna be there.”

“Rafe—”

“No Y/N. Look: you took care of me when I wasn’t shit back then. I barely looked after you as a friend and as a boyfriend. I’m here now and I’m repaying you for all you did for me. I’m doing what I should’ve done back then. Do you hear me?

I nodded. “I hear you.”

“Good. Because I’m here for the long run baby. I’m gonna do all the shit like holding your hair when you throw up for as long as I live.”

I'll give you the best years

I'll give you the best years

Past love burned out like a cigarette

I promise, darling, you won't regret

The best years

I'll give you the best years

The sun caught the diamond ring on my finger at the right angle, along with the wedding band underneath it. With my other hand, I snapped a shot of the sight with my phone.

“Never thought I’d see you doing that.” Rafe snickered from beside me.

“Can you blame me?”

“Nope.” He answered, popping the ‘p’. “Honestly, it makes me feel like I’m doing something right. I feel like for you to take a picture of something like your hand, it means a lot.”

After sharing the picture to my Instagram, I faced my husband in the lawn chair next to me. In his arms, he held our sleeping bundle of joy who hadn’t released his fathers fingers from the moment he picked him up for nap time.

“Everything you’ve done and continue to do for me means a lot, Rafe.” I replied. “If you haven’t figured out by now, my constant tears express how much I love you. Whether it be cooking a special dinner for me or taking Y/S/N out of my arms after a rough day, I’m crying because it means a lot that you’re looking out for me.”

He leaned over, tightening his hold on our son to lightly kiss me on the lips. “What can I say? I promised you the best years and you’re getting it. Until death do us part.”

OBX supporters (taglist): @jjmayybank @princezukohere @teenwaywardasgardian @jarritoswhore @ethereal-honeygold @pink-meringues @thecurlsofgod

[louezem]

Saying Yes - Brothers

Summary:  Katniss and Peeta had a bitter break up years ago and went their separate ways. Katniss knows nothing of Peeta's life now, until a stunning blonde walks into the exclusive bridal salon were she works, to buy her a dress for her wedding - to Peeta Mellark.

Written for @promptsinpanem

Part 5 - Brothers

Eight Weeks Later...

Part 5 - Brothers 

Eight weeks later:

“Good evening, Mr Mellark, it’s nice to see you,” the doorman welcomed him with a tip of his head.

“Good evening,” Peeta returned the welcome. “I’m here to meet my brother for dinner but I need to go upstairs first. When he arrives can you send him to The Arena?  I’ll meet him at the bar.”

“Of course, Mr Mellark, I’ll let him know.”

Peeta strode through the hotel lobby, acknowledging staff members and guests alike with a nod or a smile before using his keycard to access a small private elevator that rose directly to the penthouse he’d shared with Glimmer.

It felt a little weird being back in this space.  He’d moved out of the hotel and into a very nice apartment a short distance away a couple of weeks earlier.  The views weren’t as spectacular and there was no room service or overnight dry cleaning at his new place, but he was enjoying having a space that was just his more than he’d expected.  He liked displaying his own art on the walls of his home and cooking in his own kitchen again.

He opened the sliding doors to the patio and stepped outside, glad that none of the Glimmer’s personal staff were around to observe him as he said a last goodbye to the place that he’d called home for quite a while.  He walked to the infinity balcony and leaned over admiring the view over the city and listening to the faint sounds of the crowds and the traffic far below.  He could feel the autumn chill in the air, the days getting noticeably shorter.  It was almost sunset, so he decided to stay and watch from this vantage point one last time.

The media attention had been pretty brutal in the weeks immediately following his and Glimmer’s break up, usually casting him in the role of a gold-digging gigolo who’d used Glimmer to further his career in her Grandfather’s chain of hotels and then broke her heart.   They didn’t let up until a couple of photos of Glimmer and her entourage of girlfriends started showing up on online as they partied their way across Europe.  When a photo of Glimmer dancing closely with the sovereign prince of some small European principality showed up on twitter the interest in Peeta finally began to fade.  He smiled to himself, knowing Glimmer most likely leaked the photo herself to draw the attention off him, if the winking emoji she’d text him around the same time was anything to go by.  But she’d never admit it to anyone else.

In the bedroom he gathered the last few personal documents and books he’d forgotten into a box and dropped his keycard in the drawer of the bedside table, switching off the lights on his way out.      

He felt sad that this chapter of his life was over but not heart-broken like he thought he was supposed to be.  He should be on his honeymoon in Europe right now, for god’s sake, but instead he was single again.  He kept waiting for some stronger emotion to hit him but the simple truth was, he was okay.  If anything, he was a little excited about the future and the new opportunities that were already presenting themselves.  It wasn’t like back when…

An image of a pretty dark-haired girl with tears running down her face came into his mind, immediately morphing into a more recent memory of a gorgeous woman with flashing silver eyes climbing into a taxi and driving away…

He shut down that train of thought quickly.   Dr Aurelius had said no good would come from letting his mind wander down those paths.  In the weeks since he’d bumped into her again, Katniss had made a reappearance in his dreams, costing him more than one night of sleep lost to restless tossing and turning.  So much so that he’d started painting in the small hours of the morning again.

He dropped his box of things off in his office downstairs and headed to the bar where he immediately spotted a head of blond wavy hair almost identical to his own.  

“Hey Rye,” he greeted his brother and slipped onto the barstool beside him, letting his eye run over the room.  Like everything in the hotel the restaurant exuded sheer luxury - from the long polished mahogany bar to the more private dining areas with deep seats upholstered in sumptuous dark blue velvet and tables set with the finest sterling silver cutlery and cut crystal glassware.  The only thing he didn’t personally care for were the large displays of snow white roses, but they were something of a trademark for the owner, Coriolanus Snow who insisted on them in all his hotels.

“Peeta.” Rye welcomed him with a pat to his shoulder and raised his finger to catch the attention of the bartender. “What are you drinking?”

“My usual please, Finch,” Peeta smiled at the bartender who came to serve him, a slender natural red-head with fox like features and pale eyes, “and whatever my brother wants.”

“A double on the rocks, and put it on his tab.” Rye winked and raised his glass.

Peeta chuckled and Finch gave them a closed lipped smile before scurrying off to get their drinks.

“This is some place,” Rye commented.  “It’s a far cry from the spit and sawdust of Abernathy’s bar, back home.”

“It is,” Peeta chuckled.  “Is the old man even still alive?”

“Sure is, and as surly as ever.  But enough of small town news, tell me how’ve you been,” Rye looked him up and down.  “We haven’t talked much in the last few weeks.  You don’t look too bad, all things considered.”

“Thanks, I’m doing okay,” Peeta lifted his drink and clinked it off his brother’s glass. “I’ve been busy with events here in the hotel and moving to my own place.  Next time you’re in town we should meet up my new apartment instead of the hotel.  I’ll cook you a steak.”

“It’s a deal,” Rye agreed. “I’ll bring the beer.  None of your fancy wines, thank you very much. You got a big TV?”

“I’ve got a regular TV and sports on cable,” Peeta laughed. “I prefer to use my walls for my paintings, not a huge flatscreen.”

“You can spare at least one wall for a decent 60 inch. The one in the suite we stayed in upstairs before the wedding was awesome.  We did you move out anyway, I thought you could live at the hotel for free as a perk of your job?”

“There is a private suite that comes with the package but with Glimmer due back in town soon I thought it was best to find my own place.   Better to keep a little healthy distance between us until things settle.” 

“Probably wise.” Rye agreed.  “Have you talked to her at all?” 

“Sure, a couple of times.  Honestly, we’re fine with each other.  I mean, yeah, it feels strange being a single guy again.  I miss her company and I miss sleeping beside someone at night.” He let out a small chuckle. “I even miss Caesar, but all things considered we’re good.”

“I’m glad you feel that way. Glimmer is a great girl,” Rye sipped his whiskey, a thoughtful look on his face.  “Stupid dog, though.  Give me a mutt over a pampered pooch any day of the week.”

“Hey Caesar is great.  He might be small and fluffy but he has the heart of a great dane,” Peeta chuckled.  “The little dogs always do.  Besides—” Peeta stopped. 

“Besides what?”

“I think Glimmer may have done the right thing by calling the wedding off.” Peeta confessed. He cleared his throat. It was the first time he’d admitted as much out loud to anyone.  “Moving out will make everything less awkward in the long run, when she starts to see someone new.  I don’t think she’ll be single for long.” 

“Does it bother you?  The thought of Glimmer with another guy?”  Rye was watching him.

Peeta knew if he tried to lie, his brother would see right through it.  No one knew him the way Rye did.  He considered his response carefully, as he’d asked himself the same question a million times.

“No.” He answered truthfully.  It was the first time he’d fully admitted it, even to himself, and with it came a sense of relief.  “It really doesn’t bother me and that’s that thing.  It should, shouldn’t it?  I mean, I should be turning green with jealousy at thought of Glimmer with someone else, but I’m not.  All I want is for her to be happy.”

“Hmm.  What about you? Have you had any thoughts about moving on yourself?”  Rye raised an eyebrow. 

Peeta shook his head.  “No.  Relationships are the last thing I’m thinking about right now, and maybe not for a long time.”

“Who said anything about relationships? You have needs. You’re a young reasonably good looking guy—”

“Gee, thanks!” Peeta laughed at the back handed compliment.

“—all I’m saying is the ladies love a guy like you, and there is nothing wrong with a little healthy no strings attached fun.  Or a lot of healthy no strings fun if you prefer.  How about Finch over there?  She a bit of a fox and she keeps looking at you like she sees something delicious she’d like to eat.”

“Delicious but toxic,” Peeta snorted, shaking his head.  “I don’t do casual hook-ups but if I did I’d never choose someone at work.  It would be unprofessional.”

“But dating the granddaughter of your employer wasn’t?”  Rye laughed out loud.

“That was different, I was working someplace else when I met Glimmer.”

“Okay fair point,” Rye conceded, tipping his head.  “But tell me why you just described yourself as toxic?  Don’t tell me you bought into all that bullshit the media accused you of.”

“No, but look how my last two relationships ended.  The love of my life cheated on me and broke my heart, then my next serious girlfriend dumped me on our wedding day.  Even if—"

“Wait.”  Slowly Rye rested his drink on the bar and turned to face his brother, all former joviality had left his face. “Peeta, do you still believe Katniss Everdeen is the love of your life?”

“That’s an odd question to ask,” Peeta frowned.

“Humour me.”

“Fine then, the answer is yes,” he gave a slight nod of his head. “Yes, I believe Katniss is the great love of my life.  Hopefully not the last love. But the great one.  I loved Glimmer but it wasn’t the same.   I don’t think I could ever love anyone again the way I loved Katniss.”

Rye let out a deep sigh and ran a shaking hand though his hair.  “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

Peeta’s frown deepened. “Rye, what’s wrong?  You’re acting weird.”

“Peeta, there is something I need to talk to you about.  It’s been playing on my mind for some time, since long before the wedding was cancelled, if I’m honest.”

“Okay.  This sounds ominous.  It’s nothing to do with your health is it?  Or Graham, or Mom? The business back home is doing okay? Because you know I can help with that if you need—”

“No, no – calm down, the business if fine, Mom and Graham are fine, or at least they were, last time I spoke to them.  By the way, Mom said to tell you how foolish you were for letting a prize like Glimmer slip through your fingers.”

Peeta rolled his eyes. He could care less what his mother thought of him or his life, not when she couldn't even bothered to come to his wedding.

“Stop deflecting Rye.  This isn’t the first time you’ve hinted you had something on your mind and you’re not usually the type to hold back, so whatever it is, spit it out.”

“I worried if I do you’ll punch me in the face.”

“Rye, so help me—”

“Look, let’s move over to a table.” Rye threw back what was left in his glass and nodded to the bartender for another.  “We might need a little more privacy for this conversation.”

Once the brothers were resettled in a quiet corner with fresh drinks in front of them Peeta sat back and waited.

“It’s about Katniss.” Rye began nervously.

“What about her?” Peeta frowned.

“It’s about what happened between her and Gale Hawthorne the night of Madge’s party.”

Peeta looked at him, his frown deepening.  That was not what he’d been expecting to come out of Rye’s mouth.

“I already know what happened Rye.  I don’t need to hear the sordid tale of how you caught my girlfriend making out with another guy again.”  His tone was dismissive.

“Peeta, did you ever wonder why Katniss gave up trying to contact you after you broke up with her?” Rye’s voice shook a little as he spoke. He was nervous.

Peeta met his brother’s worried gaze with a now stony one of his own.  “I reckoned she figured out it was pointless to keep trying.  You caught her red handed and she knew that I’d never forgive her. Cheating is a deal breaker for me.  She knew that.”

“Okay, that’s reasonable.  But did you ever stop and ask yourself why you didn’t see her around at school later on, when she had a full ride to go to Panem U?”

“Yeah, she had, for tuition.” Peeta nodded. “We’d planned to live in the dorms for freshman year, and if we could find roommates we liked to share expenses with us, we’d rent a place and live together off campus after that. For the first month or so after school started I did look out for her.  Fuck, every time I saw a girl with olive skin and dark hair I hoped it was Katniss.” Peeta grabbed the whiskey bottle Finch had left on the table, and tossed back a shot.  “But after a while I figured out she must have gone somewhere else.  I guess she decided she didn’t want to see me either.”   

Rye locked eyes with him. “Before I tell you this, I need you to know that I’m really sorry. I want you to keep that in your head and remember it when I’m finished.”

“Sorry for what?”  Peeta eyed him warily.  “You’re starting to freak me out now, Rye.”

“I fucked up and got it all wrong, Peeta.  Katniss didn’t cheat on you with Gale the night of Madge’s party.  Or any other night.”

Peeta sat deathly still, his face impassive, as he stared at his older brother. The only reaction he showed to the grenade his brother had just launched at him was the darkening of his eyes from blue to black.

“What the fuck are you saying to me, Rye?  You’d better explain what you just said.  Fast,” he growled.

“Okay hear me out.  I need to start at the beginning.” Rye put up a placating hand.  “You remember that I had a massive thing for Madge Undersee, right?  I even thought I might be in love with her, but she only had eyes for Gale Hawthorne.” 

“Sure, I remember.  You always had a thing for blondes.”

“Still do.” Rye laughed dryly, but with no humour.  “I ended up crashing Madge’s party that night with a couple of the guys I used to wrestle with back in High School.  Cato and Marvel.  It was already late when we got there and Katniss was there hanging out with Madge and Gale. They’d all had a few drinks and looked pretty comfortable with each other.  Katniss and Madge were dancing and Gale was watching them both.  I didn’t think anything of it.”

“Katniss and Gale were friends since they were kids,” Peeta interrupted. “Madge was her best friend in High School.  Off course they were friendly. The only reason I wasn’t at the party too was because I was due at the bakery the next morning at 4am to finish a wedding cake, so Katniss tagged along with Gale instead.”

“Anyway,” Rye continued. “As the night went on I drank more and I managed to corner Madge on her own in the kitchen away from her friends.  I asked her to go out on a date with me, begged her to give me a shot, but she turned me down flat. I kept trying to charm her until she got pissed off told me to leave her alone, that she liked someone else.”

“Let me guess, that someone was Gale?” Peeta asked.

“Yeah.” Rye confirmed with a nod. “So I backed off with my tail between my legs, grumbling all the while to the guys about what was so special about Gale that made him so popular with the ladies, and what had he got that I hadn’t got.  They laughed, saying he had quite a reputation with the ladies and he was well known for frequenting the slag heap with different girls, but lately he’d been there a lot with a certain Seam girl.  They were looking at Katniss when they said it.”

Peeta raised an eyebrow at this.

“Anyway, by then I was drunk and feeling pretty sorry for myself.  A little while later I decided to call it a night and left to walk home when I heard some rustling and caught sight of Gale back in the trees.  At first I thought he was taking a leak, but then I realised he was leaning up against a tree because he had a girl backed up against it.   This kinda made me see red because Madge was back at the house waiting for him to make his move and he was here, wasting time with another girl.”

“Katniss.” Peeta growled, downing another shot.  It might be ten years ago, but it still hurt.  

“Yes.” Rye nodded.  “It was Katniss.  I saw him bend down and kiss her, but she must have seen me because she shoved him away and came running after me and we argued.   She tried to say what I’d seen was nothing, that she’d only gone outside to check on Gale because he was drunk and he came onto her.  She swore she never invited it.”

He took a deep breath. 

“I was so angry I couldn’t think straight.  I yelled at Katniss to get the hell away from me and to stay the hell away from you and told her she wasn’t good enough for you.  Gale came over and tried to throw a punch at me for yelling at Katniss, but he was a drunk as I was and he missed and we both ended up on the ground.  Then his friend Thom and Madge came out of the house and broke it up.  Katniss was crying and Madge took her inside.”

“I know this part Rye.” Peeta’s icy voice cut across him abruptly.  “But you never said anything about her shoving him away before.  You made it sound like she was a willing participant, that she was all over him.”

“I know.  I know I did.” Rye threw his hands up in the air. “I thought she shoved him away because she saw me, but I only found out years later that I was wrong about all of it.  After what Cato and Marvel had told me about Gale and a Seam girl at the slag heap, I put two and two together and made five.”

“When did you find out you were wrong?”  Peeta spat out, his head spinning.  The repercussions of what Rye had done were huge.  The whole path of his – and Katniss – life had changed because of what Rye said he saw that night.

“Not until a few years later.  Believe it or not, it was Gale who confronted me.  He and Madge were engaged, and I had long moved on.  They came by the bakery to order a wedding cake.  While Madge was distracted talking flavours and buttercream with Dad, Gale asked could he have a word with me outside.”

“At first I thought he was going to bring up my old crush on Madge, but instead he started talking about that night. He basically said he wanted to clear the air and Katniss’ name, and he confirmed everything Katniss tried to tell me years before was all true.”

A heavy silence fell between the brothers and Peeta sat stiffly as his brain tried to process this new information.

“But if he had feelings for Madge, why was he trying to kiss Katniss that night? That makes no sense!” Peeta burst out. 

“I asked him the very same thing.  He said his feelings for Madge were new and he never expected a girl like her would look at a Seam guy like him, let alone date one.  He was confused by what the true nature of his feelings for Katniss were.  They’d been friends for so long and everyone including his  family told him they’d end up together eventually but then she started dating you and he was worried he’d missed his chance.  So when one presented itself, he took it. He said he had to do it.  Just once.”

“And the seam girl he’d been sneaking around with at the slag heap?”

“Leevy Collins.”

“I can’t believe I’m only hearing about this now,” Peeta muttered dropping his head into his hands. “You should have come to me with this when Gale first told you, Rye.”

“I know.” Rye shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  “Gale told me Katniss gave him hell afterwards.  He felt bad when he found out that you broke up with her. They didn’t speak for a long time, but Madge invited Katniss to the wedding hoping they could patch things up.  Gale told me I should try and encourage you to go as well.  He hinted that Katniss wasn’t seeing anyone.”

 “Wait, so Katniss and Gale didn’t speak again until Madge’s wedding?”  Peeta exclaimed.  “That was years later!”

“I guess so.  I don’t know all the details. Katniss and Prim moved away when Prim finished High School. I guess they moved to the city then.  I didn’t keep tabs on her.  After you left she wasn’t on my radar.  I heard her Mom had died—”

“Wait, what - Mrs Everdeen died?!?”  Peeta's head shot up in shock and he suddenly realised just how far he’d distanced himself from his home town if this news never reached him.

“Yeah, I think it was the winter after you left to go to school that I heard a rumour about Katniss’ Mom.  Talk around town was she was really sick.  By then Katniss was working double shifts in Sae’s diner but she got another job working evenings in Abernathy’s.  Mrs Everdeen died about a year later.  Cancer, I heard.”

So Katniss finished raising Prim alone. Peeta thought. She had no one.

Why didn’t you tell me any of this back then?” Peeta clenched his fists tightly. He’d had arguments with his brothers before but he couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever felt so angry with Rye and it hurt.  Rye was his big brother, the one he could depend on who always stood up for him and been there for him. Deflected their mother’s rage onto himself when she would beat up on Peeta too hard.  “You never said a word.”   

“I didn’t think it would make any difference.  You never mentioned Katniss again, I thought you had put it all behind you.  You were living this amazing life in the city, you’d a great job, travelling all over the world in private jets, you had a gorgeous, sexy girlfriend.  I thought it best to let sleeping dogs lie.” 

“You could have told me some things, Rye.  I would have liked to know.  I would have sent flowers to Mrs Everdeen’s funeral.  I liked Mrs Everdeen, she was troubled but she was kind to me.”

“I didn’t want to make things worse for you, Peeta.” Rye’s tone had taken on a slight edge of annoyance.  “Don’t you remember what you were like back then?  After you left home any time anyone tried to talk to you about Katniss, you snapped their heads off.  You made it very clear you didn’t want any information from back home, Everdeen related or otherwise.  So in the end it was best not to say anything.”

“I was hurting, Rye.  I was devastated and angry, thinking my girlfriend had cheated on me and lied to me.”

“I know Peeta, and I get that now. I’m sorry. I take full responsibility.” Rye looked away, his guilt and shame written all over his face.  

An uncomfortable silence settled between the brothers, neither knowing where to go from there.  Even through the haze of his own anger Peeta could see how deeply upset Rye was.

“No.” Peeta eventually broke the silence. “It’s not completely your fault Rye.  It’s mine too.  I should have trusted my girlfriend when she told me she loved me instead of believing the worst of her.  I should have listened to her version of events. Maybe if I didn’t always feel like I wasn’t good enough for someone like her to love, we could have resolved it.  I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop, testing her feelings, hoping if I showed her how much I loved her she would be more demonstrative when it wasn’t in her nature.”

“Back at the hotel, the day before the wedding, she said…” Rye trailed of, shaking his head.

“Back at the hotel she said what, Rye?” Peeta prompted.  “Don't stop now!.”

“She asked me if you were happy.  She made me promise to take care of you, for her.”

Peeta swallowed deeply, tears stinging behind his eyes.  Even this tiny sign that she still cared for him was too much.  

“Is there anything else, I should know? Any more surprises?” he cleared his throat, almost unable to speak.

Rye nodded hesitantly.  “There is one more thing,” he said, obviously troubled. “I promise this is the last of it.”

“Go on.”

“Somehow Mom found out about what happened, I don’t know how. Maybe she overheard me talking to Dad. She threatened Mrs Everdeen with Child Protective Services if Katniss went to the same school as you.”   

“Jesus Christ.”  The tears behind Peeta’s eyes finally began to fall.  He knew the threat of CPS would have terrified Katniss.  She’d confided her fears about her mother’s mental health to him many times, and was worried about leaving Prim to go to school.  He knew, with absolute certainty, that his mother making such a threat would have been enough to stop Katniss leaving for school, even if they hadn’t broken up.  She would never risk her sister ending up in foster care.

“Peeta, are you okay?”  Rye put his hand on his shoulder but Peeta shook it off and stood up.

“After everything else, it’s too much.  I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with all this new information Rye.  I think I need to talk to Dr Aurelius.”  Peeta wiped at his eyes and tried to compose himself, suddenly remembering where he was. 

“Everything you’ve told me tonight has turned everything I believed about Katniss upside down.  I spent years believing the worst of her and it burned a hole in my soul.   It changed me as a person.  Now I find out all this.  Our family destroyed her, Rye.  You, me, Mom.  We took away her chances.  I shouldn’t have let that happen, I was supposed to protect her, we protected each other.  I’m the one who let her down and needs her forgiveness, not the other way around.”

“For what it’s worth, even when you still believed the worst of her, you had already forgiven her.” Rye offered.  “You were ready to let go of the anger.  All it took was seeing her that day, on the steps of the hotel.”

“Maybe so.  But now I have more questions than I have answers.”  Peeta was so confused.  “This changes everything.”

“I think you should go find her and talk to her.  Get some closure.”

“Do you think she would she want to talk to me?” Peeta shook his head. “I didn’t just break up with her that day, I tore her apart, Rye.”  Peeta brought his hands up, rubbing his temples which were beginning to throb.   “I called her unforgivable names and told her to crawl back to the slag heap where she belonged.”  

“Peeta, you have to know how truly sorry I am.”  Rye’s voice shook with emotion. “I never meant to cause—"

Peeta put his hand up to stop him. “I know.  But what’s done is done.”  He pulled out his wallet, throwing a handful of notes on the table.  “I’m going to leave now.  I have a lot of thinking to do.”

He left the table and made his way across bar being careful to avoid catching the eye of any of the other diners.  On seeing him approach, Finch came straight over.

“Please see my brother’s room and tab are charged to my account,” he instructed smoothly.

“Of course, Mr Mellark.  Have a good evening, sir.”  With a smile she retreated to serve another customer.

“Peeta, wait.” As he turned he found Rye was standing closely behind him. “I’m worried.  We’re brothers.  All I ever wanted was what was best for you. Are we going to be okay?”

“I need some time, Rye.  I need to process how I feel about all this.  This… this was huge.  What happened that night changed the course of my life.”

“Fair enough.” His older brother watched with saddened eyes.  “I understand.  Please call me when you’re ready to talk.  I’ll be waiting.”

#Without looking back again, Peeta walked away.  He didn’t remember bidding goodnight to the doorman, or climbing into the cab that took him home.  He let himself into his apartment, chucking off his suit jacket and loosening his tie before heading straight to the kitchen where he grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a glass.

Peeta flung himself onto his sofa, exhausted, his arm flung across his eyes as he tried to reconcile everything Rye had told him.  He felt like a steamroller had run over him.

Katniss didn’t cheat on him.  Katniss didn’t lie to him.  It wasn’t real.

Katniss didn’t cheat on him.  Katniss didn’t lie to him.  It wasn’t real.

Katniss didn’t cheat on him.  Katniss didn’t lie to him.  It wasn’t real.

Again and again it went around and around in his head.  How it must have hurt her when he’d taken Rye’s word over hers.  How betrayed and alone she must have felt.  A sob caught in his throat. 

“Katniss, I’m sorry, I should have believed you,” he spoke into the shadows of the empty room, feeling hot tears finally burning a path down his cheeks, whether from sorrow or shame he didn’t know.  “I’m sorry, I love you, I’m sorry,” he sobbed until he finally passed out.

READ on AO3

[earnestly-endlessly]

Can i request Cherik fic rec of collage au? Pretty please? Extra cookie points if it’s long fic

Thank you for the request anon! I am so sorry how late this is, but I hope that this list will give you plenty of new fics to read and enjoy!! 

College/University Cherik AU 

** Where they’re both college/university students**

A Road Trip to Pennsylvania – Aainiouu

Summary: For a year Charles has nurtured the biggest and most embarrassing crush known to man towards Erik. They are friends and roommates and when Erik asks Charles to accompany him to home on Thanksgiving of course Charles goes.

Of kittens and teacups and love – Ren

Summary: Modern AU in which Charles and Erik are flatmates. Charles studies psychology and likes tea and chess and keeps bringing home stray kittens, and Erik lets him because he's maybe perhaps a little bit sort of in love with him.

Love Medley – ikeracity

Summary: Charles and Erik have been friends and roommates for two years. They've also, coincidentally, been in love with each other for two years. Neither of them has ever had the courage to admit it to the other, but Erik's new friendship with Magda and an untimely accident forces them to confront their feelings once and for all.

it was a red scarf semester – ikeracity

Summary: When Erik makes a bet that he can get into Charles Xavier's pants before the semester ends, he doesn't expect Charles to resist quite so much. And he doesn't expect Charles to change everything he thought he knew about mutants, friendship, and love.

Can You Feel My Heart – FuryRed

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr hates Charles Xavier.It’s as true as the words written on the wall in the bathroom at the university that Erik attends. Erik sees them one day- accompanied by a crude drawing of Erik and Charles glaring at each other- and recognises the truth of the sentence, and smiles.

He hates Charles. Probably…

Enemies With Benefits – bettysofia

Summary: Casual sex with your sworn enemy gets tricky once feelings get involved.

CMUniverse - Pookaseraph

Summary: A series of fics that star Tony, Charles, and Erik (and probably some others as the idea expands) at Carnegie Mellon University. Some are AU of each other, don't use logic.

Math Reasons - pearl_o, pocky_slash

Summary: "Mom says Erik always knows what he wants, it just sometimes takes him a little while to actually realize it," Ruth said.

Charles fell in love with Erik the first night they met, the first week of freshman year. Two years of friendship, adventures, arguments, hijinks, secrets, and summer visits later, Erik is starting to catch up.

Still Life with Cookies – stlkrchck

Summary: It wasn't fair that he only wanted Erik to draw him when Erik wanted to listen to him talk about how unfair the lack of emphasis that tenure committees placed on teaching ability was and tuck him into the hat and scarf and mittens that he wore even though it wasn’t properly cold yet and kiss his gorgeous, ridiculously red mouth and make out with Charles on the bed that he'd apparently wedged between the window and "pipes of some sort, don't ask me why there are pipes in my room, Erik," in his tiny dorm room.

Or: Charles is a nude model, and Erik is an art student.

The Pretender – Clocks

Summary: Charles is sick of having his best friend Erik drop to one knee and fake-propose to him in restaurants, just to score a free dessert. He doesn’t know which is worse: the complete embarrassment, or the likelihood that Erik doesn’t mean a word of it.

That time the System didn’t work – bluexlily

Summary: "pick each other up from bad dates" au

They had stablished The System a long, long time ago.

Since they became each other’s roommate, actually, and realized that they had more in common than their home state and decided they should be friends.

Whenever he or Charles is on a date, they send a first message after meeting the prospected boyfriend.

Accidentally Welcome to the Rest of Your Lives - Kianspo

Summary: Non-powered college AU. Erik and Charles have nothing in common until they end up having sex at someone's party. They don't have much in common after that, either, but find each other a hard habit to quit.

A Study in Advanced Lecherism - orphan_account

Summary: Charles has this thing he does when he's drunk. He gets completely lecherous. For some reason, that really pisses Erik off. Who knew?

Learning Curve – pocky_slash

Summary: (Non-powered college AU) Erik takes a trip back to campus to visit a despondent Charles and does his best to offer comfort.

Charles Does Not Buy a Shamwow - Madneto

Summary: Charles and Erik are spending the first few days of their university's winter break alone at Erik's mother's house. Then, Erik's mother decides to come home early unannounced... while Erik and Charles are naked on the living room couch.

5 Times Charles Had Nothing to Say and 1 Time He Did – BadLuckBlueEyes

Summary: Charles Xavier usually has a lot to say. But sometimes he doesn't and that's nice too. (Written for the prompt: Erik befriending and falling in love with mute!Charles)

Five Useful Signs When Dating Charles Xavier (a down under remix) – letosatie

Summary: Erik meets a fascinating mute boy and rapidly discovers sign language is useful.

Home Together (The Finding Our Way Remix) – significantowl

Summary: Erik is not the sort of person other students strike up conversations with. His expression, his posture, every part of his manner say: Don’t talk to me. I don’t want to talk to you. But none of that stops the boy ahead of him in line with the collapsible white cane, and nothing can stop Erik from falling for him, like it or not.

The Wall (a.k.a.  Erik Lensherr) – fkbunnyclub

Summary: Charles doesn't really want to have a crush on the cute stoic senior who keeps dropping by the library where he works who also has a pregnant girlfriend. Or so he thinks.

Building a fire – dedkake

Summary: Erik wishes he were in law school instead of med school, because then he would be researching the legal remedies for the doubtless thousands of violations his apartment building's slumlord owner, Sebastian Shaw, has perpetrated on his tenants.

On the bright side, maybe he can finally coax his bizarrely oblivious roommate, Charles into sharing his bed, or curling up together on the couch under many blankets. Purely for surviving the night, of course.

April Showers – ikeracity

Summary: Walking home in the dark in a rainstorm is not Charles' idea of a pleasant night. Of course, the stranger with the umbrella who offers to walk him home makes the experience infinitely more agreeable.

Alles hat ein Ende, nur die Wurst hat zwei – Darksknight

Summary: “My mother has expressed that if I come dateless, I will be assigned one, to put it lightly. So, you see... well, I have a favor to ask. Erik, darling. Will you be my pretend boyfriend?"

Erik thinks it over for a second. "... No."

Mutant House at Dead Kings College – mabyn

Summary: When it comes to romance, Charles has terrible timing.

Best of Enemies – Black_Betty

Summary: Student and mutant rights activist Erik Lehnsherr is furious when the college newspaper chooses to interview his opponent Charles Xavier instead of him.

He's mad because of the politics of the thing. It nothing to do with how hot Charles looks in the picture accompanying the article.

Seriously.

The Luck You’re Born With – Lynds

Summary: College AU. Erik thinks Charles Xavier is an arrogant, rich brat, whose only redeeming quality is his intellect. Charles never disputes this image. Then through an accident Erik finds out that Charles has been long cut off from his family and is essentially a single parent to a ten-year-old Raven.

Like Roses and Wine – Schwoozie

Summary: Charles is not what you would call a “sports person” - but the promise of free kisses after the game, especially with one Erik Lensherr playing midfield, is a temptation Charles can't resist.

Every Song I Know – Fengirl88

Summary: “Erik,” Janos says wearily, “you had amazing sex with this guy. He obviously really likes you. You have, what, a month, six weeks left? You can spend it moping and hiding and worrying you're going to run into him. Or you can call him, have a good time, and figure out where you go from there.”

Erik groans. It's what he wants to do, so much it scares him.

[or, the one where Erik and Charles meet and fall in love as exchange students, break up, and meet again by chance seven years later]

Argue me tender, argue me true – Wild_Imagination

Summary: “You’re having your bad-boy crisis with seven years of delay, Charles.”

“Why must he spit out those hateful, misanthropic, science-free, separatist ideas of his with a face like that!”

Charles and Erik attend the same college, and they never, ever agree on anything. But that's fine, because Charles can't stand him. No, really.

Simultaneity – TurtleTotem

Summary: Trying to deliver roses to his girlfriend, Erik knocks on the wrong door -- but Charles is so happy to get them, how can Erik possibly tell him the truth? Love, lies and exhaustion follow as Erik tries to keep boyfriend and girlfriend happy and, most importantly, unaware of each other!

**Where one of them is a college/university student**

in the moonlight, on a joy ride – scarlettblush

Summary: Librarian AU. Charles is the young librarian and Erik is the college student who is completely besotted with him.

Mutually Beneficial Transaction – Pookaseraph

Summary: In his sophomore year at Columbia University, Erik, feeling slowly strangled by his mounting college debt, places an add on a sugar daddies website. He doesn't know exactly what to expect from it, but when he's contacted by a man named Charles who seems less creepy than the other people who have responded to his profile, he decides to give it a shot. Charles is nothing like what he expected, and Erik finds himself slowly falling in love with his sugar daddy while trying to find out exactly what caused this amazing guy to buy his emotional and sexual intimacy when he clearly deserves so much more than that.

Authority kink – aesc, Subtilior

Summary: “You’re going to be in your room, on Skype with full video, when I call you tonight, at … nine o’clock sharp, your time.”

Tonight.

Erik, a proud and surly graduate student, keeps his deepest, darkest desires under tight control. Charles, his genetics professor, keeps handcuffs on his copy of the university handbook. You can see where this is going.

An Ideal Grace – afrocurl, nekosmuse

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr is a visiting professor at Columbia University, as well as an acclaimed and award winning poet. Charles Xavier is a lead researcher with the Genetics Department who is well on his way to tenure. But what happens when Charles has to cancel a class because half his students abandon him in favour of a mysterious new English Lit professor? Naturally he ends up sitting in in the class, where Professor Lehnsherr mistakes him for a student. It's really too bad Erik has such a strict policy against dating students. It's also too bad Erik doesn't seem to know how to use Google.

Note: This is not technically a university/college AU, but I’ll let it slide because it’s one of the best cherik fics out there and for the majority of the fic Charles is in Erik’s class (even though, unbeknownst to Erik, he’s a professor as well).

[the-wanted-man]

Comrades-in-Arms .II

Warnings: Potential 5.x spoilers regarding Garlemald. Part [1] Imperial Garlemald | Levi’s Theme

“The whole damn country’s gone to hell in a hand-basket, boys. Now, I don’t, and I mean this from the bottom of my heart, say this to be an alarmist but...just look at the facts. Losing royalty left and right. People disappearing in the dead of night. I mean I love this country as much as any true son but we’re eating ourselves from the inside out, and it doesn’t seem to matter what side you’re on anymore.  I know you can feel it. The noose tightening in around the neck. The cross-hairs on the back. We’re coming up to the point of no return. Loyalist...or otherwise.”

The windstorm comes on much quicker than they’d anticipated and it makes those last few malms a miserable journey for the small unit. Even fully suited the harsh winds cut through the layers of their like phantom swords and moving became a matter of necessity to keep the chill at bay. Even silver-spoon Leviticus found it necessary to walk eventually.

Companionable moods from even minutes before seemed to lessen at the same rate their visibility did. The snowy haze of the blizzard made seeing more than five fulms ahead a near impossible feat after a time and were it not for the pulsing red light of the old guard tower beacon ahead they might’ve surely been lost to the white.

Eventually, they came upon an impenetrable wall of steel that seemed to simply rise up out of the snow. It wasn’t exactly the kind of sight that most would consider welcoming with its clinically grey exterior, and structured lighting that barely seemed to shine through the thick coat of hoarfrost that had built upon its metal surface. What bliss it would be to leave this place behind.

“Now, talk of insurrection is on the winds...and I’m not saying I support it but I DO understand it. You’re kidding yourself too, if you think I’m the only one who sees how this is going to get. Everyone’s thinking it, even if no one’s out right saying it. I mean...civil war...When its neighbor against neighbor....friend against friend...Brother against brother...It’s only a matter of time before you have to -really- start asking yourself -- Well, who can you really trust?”

A kind of tense silence seems to sweep over the convoy by the time the magitek vehicle rolls to a halt in front of the castellum gates. It starts as the usual routine first: the declaration of ranks, unit and business into a blue screen that takes their information. .

Albina quo Silvius. XIth Auxilliary. Supply drop.

The terminal flashes, and then beeps in acceptance of the credentials provided. With an almighty, groaning, screech of moving metal, the barricade begins to lower itself. Sinking into the earth like some kind of retreating monolith.The ice along its frame spider-webs and cracks, before falling away.

They are waved through, just past the barricades where two armed guards walk forward to greet them. Little more than a skeleton crew was necessary to keep the checkpoint appearing operational. Papers were exchanged and one guard points something out to verify it with the other. They nod, and then the first guard lifts his rifle up to Bastille’s chest, and fires twice.

“Times like this, might SEEM like you can’t trust anyone at all. Like you got to keep your guard up to keep the knife from sticking in your back. Like its all you can do to keep it from twisting... You might even feel like you’re alone. Like the whole world is pitted against you. Well, I’m here to tell you that you are NOT alone. There’s people you can trust. ”

It was absolute chaos.

Gunfire erupts from behind them and the team scatters. Albina shoves Quintus just as the second guard opens a volley of fire where he’d previously been sitting. Her weapon is drawn, and she cuts down one of the soldiers before he can fire again.

Tatius tackles one of the castellum guards as two more flank them from the gates. Cicero dives for cover, taking Levi with him as he goes. He screams for Crispus to radio for help while they’re pinned down by fire. Leviticus thanks the man by flossing the space between his ears with a bullet.

His unit starts to fall, one by one. Tatius manged to take on with him before he is pulled into a chokehold and he struggles until he doesn’t. Everything happens so fast, Albina barely has time to process as she pulls her blade from the body of an imperial soldier. It begins to dawn on her though, as she turns to her treacherous fiance.

“What did you do?”

“Matter fact, they’re right here in this very room. Take a look around boys, to the left, and to the right of you. Ahead and behind. Look around and witness them - your family! Us who’ve slept together. Who’ve bled together...Killed together.  -Trust- in them. Your fellow brothers-in-arms. Trust...in me.”

She knows before they’re even at each others throats. She knows the man she’d intended to marry so well she empowers him in moments and backs him blade tip first into the caravan. She knows that somehow this is his fault and doesn’t understand how she could have been so blind.

Leviticus only answers with a shameless smirk, but she catches the flick of his silver eyes and turns in time to be impaled by Crispus. He had always been quiet, and she had thought, dependable. She realized now, just not to her. Albina slumps to the ground. The battle is over and the damage done as quickly and as suddenly as a lightning strike.

The world starts to muffle and fade into black. Albina hears her fiance say “Took your sweet time.” As he brushes off his uniform and looks to the two remaining guards. He steps over her body, pausing long enough to tell her “Consider this an end to our engagement, darling. It’s not that its me, it’s just that it’s you. Quintus -- you can come out from hiding now.”

Harsher blows couldn’t be dealt as the young medic crawls out from the mud and snow, shivering as he stands and looks Albina in the eyes as they close. “R-really, Levi. Sh-she was your fiance.”

“I know! What was I thinking? Marriage never would have suited me.” 

“You see, commitment is important. How long have we been at this -game-, Family? Four years? Five? Because that’s what it comes down to. Our lives, are a -game- to...to these people! Heartless, and arrogant leaders who care more about their image than those who make them -look- good...Who are so quick to kill their own loyal brothers and sisters, if it makes them look good. Greedy, selfish leaders. That’s what they are.”

“Load those supply crates in that freighter there. We’ll need all the money we can get across the border and these weapons will flip for a pretty gil piece there. Especially now.” 

Equipment is quickly  transferred and stored within the cargo hold of a small airship, none of which Levi lifted so much as a finger for. The ship itself was weaponless luxury class and couldn’t pass for militaristic if it tried. Too spacious. Too comfortable. Being royalty had its perks, and no one said escaping couldn’t be done in style.

“Did we really have to...do all this?”  Leviticus looked over to Quintus, who stood anxiously over the body of Bastille. He seemed like he was having second thoughts, and Levi couldn’t have that.

“Having doubts, are we? You know they never would have hesitated for us. Even my loving fiance was too committed to the country for us to ever work. It still hurt me, having to do this to them. Him though...I never liked Bastille. It might be terrible but..It’s true. He always acted like he was...better than all of us. Better than you.”  Bastille croaks and Levi considers it the definition of a corpse turning in its grave.

“I...oh jeez, I think he’s still alive..?”

Leviticus passes the young man a knife. “You said you could kill for a bath, right? Well, how bad did you want it?”

"Was it those officers starving in the cold beside us while they shouted orders from the back lines? Hm? Was it them? Huddling in the trenches, never knowing if  they’d see the light of day? Do you think they care? What about the people. We serve citizens that don’t even care for the sacrifices we make. Who spit on us when we marched in the cities. They don’t know what we had to do, to survive. What we -will- do.”

They staged the scene, positioning the bodies of their fellows more deliberately. Stripped the castellum of its valuable supplies and spilled a trail of ceruleum around the encampment with whatever excess they could find.

A more immediate guess once discovered might lead the assumption of an encounter with savages and he relied on the fact that resources would be stretched too thin to make an in-depth investigation. It wasn’t perfect but it would do.

The four loaded themselves onto the new convoy, an airship no bigger than standard fare civilian transport and luggage but it was enough for them and  their haul. At the hatch, Leviticus turned to look behind him. Struck a match off his chest, and tossed it into the shimmering pool of oil. Blue fire spreads like spilled ink over thin cloth. Leviticus leaves brimstone in his wake, and it makes him feel divine.

If he can do this, he can do anything.

“The hand that claims to feed, has only ever taken away. Everything we did, we did for nothing. But I promise you...if you follow me...if you trust me...trust the man on your left, and on your right...Nothing, is what’s going to stand in our way.

The ship full of defectors takes off from a blazing outpost and veers off into the distant sky.

                                            To be continued...                                                    

[gameofdrarry]

Wizards Hearts: A Night on the Town!

Wizards Hearts Game/Fest ran for a full four months, and is now officially over, though we are ever appreciative towards our readers for spreading love to Drarry fics old and new, short and long. 900 comments were left as a result of the game.

Players are sorted and assigned at random to four different teams. All team activities and discussions are completely optional but can yield extra points to help win the game! There are weekly team activities and longer, creative team activities where players can imagine new, fun headcanons in the Harry Potter universe and perhaps a few stories of their own!

Team Activity 5: Celebrity Visitations and Incidents

As was previously reported on, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter made visitations at multiple casinos. Those casinos have been kind enough to share their footage surveillance and first person accounts of what exactly happened during these visits. Some went much better than others, of course.

Teams were asked to 1) Write a fic about the incident at their casino (as written by their rival casinos) and tell it from the perspective of A) Harry or Draco or B) a 3rd Person Narrator for a minimum for 500 words. 2) Create an image to accompany their fics.

View the first Team Activity post here

View the second Team Activity post here

View the third Team Activity post here

View the fourth Team Activity post here

View the final Team Activity post under the cut!

Team 1: Loch Lomond’s Treasure

Before Draco was inside the casino, he thought the whole thing to be rather silly. A masquerade ball he would have been right at home in. But the way Harry had described it, this was almost closer to a costume party, and he wasn’t entirely a fan of their chosen costumes. He understood why Harry had chosen them, of course, but that didn’t mean he had to like them.

But when he stepped inside the Loch Lomond’s Treasure casino, all of his worries were dashed away, and he was taken aback. He had known about the Gillyweed Ball, but goodness Merlin… It was exquisite. The way the lights danced around the water seemed to make everything sparkle, and everyone was laughing and having a grand old time. Near immediately, the two of them were approached. Even behind the shoddy glamour, Draco was able to recognize Mr. Richens. Elder gentleman, halfblood, and owner of an up-and-coming potions shop down in Diagon. “Ah, Mr. Potter!”

And just like Harry said, it worked. Everyone thought that he was Harry, and that Harry was him! He watched the way Richens seemed to fall all over himself to speak with him, all while snubbing Harry. Unable to help himself, Draco threw a smirk to Harry for what he knew would come at the end of the night when everyone cast off their costumes. Harry chuckled at his side, and it seemed to throw Richens off a bit, but Draco gave the man credit where credit was due. He plowed on as though nothing were amiss.

And that was what went on for the rest of the night as well. Business owners, politicians, and anyone looking to get anything to sell to the papers all came flocking towards him as though he truly were Harry Potter. He supposed that was what they believed to be true, at least. “Mr. Potter, everyone is just dying to know who made your costumes,” one of the women tittered. Draco barely kept from rolling his eyes.

“Blaise Zabini, of course,” he answered, and no one noticed the smoother, more cultured tones of his voice, as opposed to the rough and tumble way Harry spilled out his words. “He’s a new designer, and one to certainly be on the lookout for. He was anxious to make these for us, and I think we can agree that he did a fabulous job on them.”

When he and Harry were separated, Draco saw out of the corner of his eye, multiple people that Harry bumped into or tried to play nice with all give him cold glares, and seem to spit venom at him. Harry, of course, took none of it seriously and answered it all with one of those sunshine smiles of his.

Later in the evening, Harry called him over, “Harry,” he said, and Draco heard that teasing tone in his voice clear as day. “Come on over here, they’re announcing the winners of the costume contest.”

Draco chuckled to himself. “Alright, alright. You won’t let me go until I do.” So Draco walked over to stand beside him.

He wasn’t much surprised when he and Harry were announced as the Kings of the costume contest. Everyone pleaded with them to remove their costumes, and Draco glanced to Harry. When Harry nodded, Draco smirked and waved his wand silently to send their costumes away. The shock, awe, and fear on the faces of many in attendance did so warm Draco’s heart.

At his side, Harry’s fingertips brushed against his arm. “You enjoy some more of the buffet. I’ve got a few… business partners to talk to.”

Draco near purred, “Sounds lovely. Would you like me to save you a few crab canapés? They’re absolutely divine.”

“I think you’d be happier to have them all to yourself,” Harry chuckled, and Draco did so love the sound, as the shivers running through his spine attested to. “Just save me a seat?”

“For you? Always.”

Team 2: Golden Scales

It was All Hallows Eve, a day that Harry tried to forget. Harry usually spent this day locked up in his room at Grimmauld Place. Ron and Hermione would visit him to make sure he ate and give him company. This year, the duo was busy with their newborn child, Rose, and hence, Harry was going to spend the day alone. 

Draco and Harry had struck up a new friendship after Ginny and Pansy’s wedding. Draco knew from the girls that this day was always hard on Harry, and so he took it upon himself to do something fun this year. 

That’s how they ended up at the entrance of the Golden Scales Casino. The Casino was organising a Masquerade and Bonfire Night to welcome the season. Bring your best mask and your whimsy and prepare for a magical evening, the pamphlet had read. It was just what they needed to take Harry’s mind off of gloom and doom.

Draco had worn a beautiful silver mask with green feathers and rhinestones. Harry looked equally handsome in a red and black mask that accentuated his emerald green eyes. They met in the front lobby of the casino near the dragon statue. Before walking in, Draco rubbed the golden ace card held by the dragon, which was rumoured to bring patrons good luck. Their masks were a blessing, and not many heads turned.

The boys tried their hand at the casino’s patent game ‘Bluffing the Dragon’, and Draco even won a round and graciously treated Harry to a shot of Dragon Bite. They were sitting by the bonfire, enjoying the warmth and spectacular light show performed by the casino’s miniature dragons when a flame from one of the dragons skimmed Harry's face, causing him to panic and jerk away, spilling Draco’s drink in the process.

“Watch it, Potter, this suit is Italian and very expensive,” Draco said irritably.

Harry, however, had started hyperventilating. 

“Calm down, Potter. You’re drawing attention to us,” he said.

“Shut. Up. Malfoy.” Harry bit out, and soon they had reverted to their schoolboy ways of hurling insults at each other. 

The commotion had alerted the authorities, and two burly bouncers approached their table. Seeing this, Draco put an arm on Harry’s shoulder to calm him down, but Harry pushed him away, ripping his mask off and pointing his wand at Draco’s throat. A collective gasp was heard, and then the room went silent.

Draco looked at Harry, eyes wide and full of hurt. Harry, realising his overreaction, dropped his wand. Draco turned on his heel and started leaving when Harry came back to his senses and ran after him, but Draco pushed him and apparated away.

Harry had bumped into another patron who had consumed the Queen of the Night cocktail, causing a coughing cum fire breathing fit. The ensuing commotion was too much, and when the bouncers escorted him to the golden elevator, he went willingly.

The previous night’s debacle was all over the papers the next day. Everyone had a take on what must have transpired. Some called it a lover’s tiff, others a spat between friends, and some even speculated that Harry had been led to the Casino by devious means. Of course, none of it was true, and the only person who deserved to know the truth was Draco. Harry had to set things right—the look on Draco’s face had haunted him all night.

He wasn’t sure if Draco would want to see him, so he wrote him a letter explaining how he’d been lost in his own head. The flames had taken him by surprise, plunging him back to the night in the Room of Requirement when he and Draco had almost perished in the Fiendfyre. He didn't expect Draco to forgive him, but he had to apologise.

An hour later, Harry’s floo chimed and Draco stepped out of it, wrapping Harry in a tight hug.

Team 3: Vanaheim

It was stiflingly hot inside the infamous Vanaheim Casino, and the glamour Romilda wore didn’t help matters much since it clogged every pore of her face, making her feeling more uncomfortable. But she didn’t dare take off her glamour and risk being detected. Ever since she’d been caught bribing Mundungus Fletcher to steal things from the more noteworthy guests, she’d been banned from the premises under threat of public humiliation. 

Tonight had been dreadfully dull though. She’d had high hopes for this event, with both Harry Potter and his more than questionable choice of boyfriend, Draco Malfoy, as guests. But everything was going smoothly. Too smoothly. Not even a row over winnings or counting cards or anything, just a slow hum of voices and the occasional outcry whenever someone won at that weird dice game they insisted on playing here that she could never understand or remember the rules for.

She sighed, glancing at her wristwatch, when something caught her eye. How on earth could she have missed this? She was sure she had kept her eyes firmly on Potter the entire night, but somehow she hadn’t noticed him walking up to… to none other than the literal god and eligible bachelor Thor Odinsson. Oh, this was good. This was almost too good to be true. But where was Malfoy?

It was difficult trying to scan the room for Malfoy while simultaneously keeping track of what Potter was doing with Odinsson, but when Potter leaned into the other man, placing a hand on his big bicep and whispering in his ear, Romilda felt like she had found the thirteenth use of dragon’s blood. Surely she would get promoted after writing a story about this?

Unbelievably, it got even better when she heard a cry of rage to her right, and saw Malfoy elbow his way through the crowd towards the two men. Romilda was whispering furiously to her Quick Quotes Quill while Malfoy started having a shouting match with Potter, and even went so far as to push Potter away from Odinsson. But in her haste to get everything written down, she had forgotten to keep her glamour, and she felt it slip enough that the bouncer by the door noticed her. He’d always had a keen eye, that one, and wasn’t easily distracted by gossip-worthy fights, not even a big one like this. Luckily for her, Malfoy yanked Potter away towards the loos by grabbing his collar. She took the opportunity to slink away in the general commotion that caused, grieving that she hadn’t become an unregistered Animagus like her predecessor Rita Skeeter so she could follow the two men and see the rest of the row. By the look of Malfoy’s face, it promised to get juicy.

* * * * *

Draco pushed Potter unceremoniously into the loo and slammed the door behind them. After a quick check to make sure they were alone, he cast Colloportus and pushed Potter up against the sink.

“I saw you,” Draco growled.

Potter’s eyes widened but he didn’t move. 

“In front of everyone. They were all watching their Saviour. They think I don’t deserve you.” Draco took a step closer until they were inches apart. “I saw you. Whispering in his ear, touching him, and he looked like he wanted to devour you. Make you his.” 

Potter exhaled, his eyes dark. “How did that make you feel?”

Draco slid his thigh between Potter’s and crowded into his space. “Incredibly turned on. He wanted you, thought he could have you.”

“The look on your face,” Potter murmured in Draco’s ear. “I was watching you the whole time. I love it when your cheeks and neck get flushed. You’re gorgeous when you’re jealous.”

“Fuck, Potter.” Draco leaned in and brushed his lips against Harry’s jaw, kissed down his neck and Harry tilted his head to the side in encouragement. “But you’re mine, aren’t you?”

Harry’s breath hitched as Draco nipped at the sensitive spot by his ear. “All yours. You’re the only one I want.”

Draco sucked a bruise into Harry’s neck to mark what was his, then came up and claimed his lips in a searing kiss. When they broke apart, Draco had only one coherent thought on his mind. “Apparate us home. Right now.”

With a loud crack, the room was once again empty.

Team 4: Arc en Ciel

Read here on AO3

[asterekmess]

S3A - E2

Here we go, Episode 2 of the rewatch. Honestly, even if you guys really don’t care about these, I’m gonna write them anyway, cus I need to get my FEELINGS out.

Anyway. Read More as a symbol of my love.

Thoughts:

Your pen is dry, honey. Try a sharpie.

So Stiles has literally known Heather since he was born? Nursery school is from 0 months to 5 years old, apparently. And Scott doesn’t know who she is? How does that even happen? It’s not like Stiles hasn’t seen her in ages, she recognizes him Instantly from across the room and he recognizes her back. So, Scott just never met her or asked about her or anything? Stiles never told him?

If anyone was curious, apparently Heather’s friend is named Danielle (according to Amazon Prime’s “X-Ray” thingy). She’s the same girl from Lydia’s birthday party, I think. The one who woke Stiles up? OHmygod that would be so fucking interesting. If he invited her and Heather to Lydia’s party. Maybe Heather couldn’t go, but Danielle showed up.

Awww, was Heather Stiles’ first kiss? Did they play winery as kids? Hide and seek? did they break a stupidly expensive bottle of wine?

I have personal issues with Stiles supposed canon age. I refuse to believe he’s not 17 and a year older than the others, because of repeating a grade when he was really young. I just refuse to believe otherwise. XP

PLS STOP making fun of girls asking for guys’ consent. This show would be awesome for like ten whole seconds if they stopped RUINING the girl’s asking for consent by having the guys laugh at them or treat it like a joke.

Allison, Scott’s not gonna have a single fucking clue what you’re talking about when only you hold out your arm to show the bruise.

Also. I believe in Big Dick Stiles Stilinski, bc he’s too smart not to know that wearing too big a condom is like the worst possible idea and can render it basically useless, and he wouldn’t have grabbed one (which we see he did in the next episode or something) if it wouldn’t fit. Therefore. XXL for our boy. XP

Hold up. So no one heard Heather screaming? Was she hallucinating the wine bottles breaking? Maybe it was an illusion, cus there’s no mess when Stiles gets down there? But still, the screaming is real. Scott should’ve heard screams like that even from outside the building.

Also, I feel p fucking bad for Stiles. As far as he knows, she bailed on him. What if he thought it was a prank or a joke or something? Or, even worse actually, since he’s known her for so long and she left her shoes down there, I bet he’d be worried instantly.

*snort* I looked up Derek’s loft set for research. They had to do so much editing to make it look grudgy and out of the way. This building is in the middle of town and it’s Massive and Gleaming. It’s a place where you can rent office suites. XD

I love everything about Isaac’s little venting session over getting Peter’s help, except the part where where he mentions Scott. Fuck scott. (whoops, now I need the tag. Like you didn’t see that coming?)

I find it hilarious that Peter’s intro is Rock Music. Also. “Fair enough.” I do love this man. (took me a while though.) Like, he’s honestly pretty simple to understand most of the time. He just wants people to be honest to him, say what they wanna say to his face.

Look at Peter, giving us one of the very few hints at werewolf history. Presumably, the ability was meant to be used to share memories with pack, locations of dens or images or even scents of other packs. And though mostly Alphas do it, clearly not just Alphas do it. This is fucking Interesting, I want MORE.

Aannnd, we discover that Scott’s been lying to Allison this whole time and letting her think that Derek just randomly attacked her mother. Love it. Also, I’m still not over Allison’s behavior in the last season? Waiting on an apology, hun, and it better be good.

OH. OH NOW You can sense the werewolves, Scott? SERIOUSLY?

Why do they make every single scene with Finstock have something to do with Stiles’ sex life? Like....it’s awkward. Stop. Also, can you imagine Stiles getting a rep around school for having a big dick bc of this? Is that something that actually happens in high schools? I had no friends, I would not know.

“No play.” The first time Scott decides that neutrality is better than actually doing something useful. I’m salty. *nods* yup. I am. I know what this scene does later on, and I hate it.

Also, can I just say that I literally hate that EVERY SINGLE time Stiles is having a good time, they make it Horrible? Stiles makes a lil joke about Derek being a Sourwolf? Derek gets claws through his lungs and spits blood. Stiles gets to play on the team?  Across town Erica and Boyd are being tortured. Stiles is about to have sex? The girl he’s supposed to have sex with is being traumatized downstairs. Stiles is about to play a stupid fucking game in class? He gets taken in for questioning because his friend since birth has been kidnapped. They literally refuse to ever let Stiles be happy without making him look like an idiot or an asshole for having a single good emotion. It makes me so MAD. You can literally measure the show! If Stiles is actually smiling, then someone’s about to die.

OH MY GOD. Really? Another moment we didn’t get to see? “Derek says it’s easier to turn teenagers” WHEN DID HE SAY THAT? I‘M SO CURIOUS. Also how does Stiles know what Peter and Derek tried to do to get Isaac’s memories back? Are they reporting to Stiles? Letting him know what’s up? STILES IS HALE PACK I WILL FIGHT YOU.

I’m getting really sick of Deaton somehow knowing more about werewolves than the two born werewolves. Like, it’s really fucking annoying? They know their own species, or at least they should? It was the same with Chris helping out on the hunt. He doesn’t know werewolves better than they know themselves and I’m fucking tired of it. Let Peter and Derek have their own fucking history and knowledge about their own fucking species.

*snort* i paused at just the right time and the water effect made Derek and scott’s foreheads Really big. XD

I enjoy Stiles getting distracted now that his job is done. I feel that in my soul. The only difference between us is that he has the confidence to just Grab the shit he wants to play with, and I never did so I just zone out staring at it.

I’m not stupid. I see them suddenly throwing in the work ‘risky’ everywhere. But I still appreciate Derek reminding Isaac that he doesn’t have to do the ice tub thing.

More reflections...what’s with the reflections in this season so far?

Also, is this how people sound when they’re hypnotized. I’m on Stiles’ side actually, giving this the side-eye with Isaac’s constant “They’re here” thing. It seems really weird and overdone.

God, this scene is such fucking bullshit. Derek would never put Isaac in danger like that. Isaac’s the only Beta he’s got at the moment. He wouldn’t do that and it’s fucking Stupid to make him be so vicious and scare the shit out of Isaac. I fucking hate it.

I think it’s sweet that Isaac looks to Stiles for answers when everyone’s acting weird.

Ten hours of research, and Stiles has a little pinboard on the floor, the prototype for his big one Awwwwww.

Papa Stilinski comes through ONce Again!

If they’re supposed to meet at 5 and get to work at dark. Why is it dark when they get to Dereks??? WORK WITH ME HERE.

WHY would they patch the wall (Which is stone, so wtf did they patch it with? Concrete?) if they closed the bank down right after the robbery???

IT”S THE SCENE *heavy breathing* “Big bad wolf, yeahhh, lookatdat” Peter looks SO DONE “I’ve been dealing with this for months, make it stop”

aaaand again. “Risk” Since when does Peter care about risk? I never understood this scene. We have evidence that Peter cares about family, and according to werewolves, pack is family. He flipped shit to find Derek when Derek was missing. This is exactly the kind of thing he would do. I just...I don’t get it. Don’t like it, either.

“Yeah, if you want me to come” “NOT you” I love this scene, because it shows not just that Stiles is fucking raring to go and help, but that he didn’t offer before only because he thought Derek wouldn’t let him. We know Derek doesn’t think Stiles is useless. He put Stiles in charge of researching this entire bank. Which means it’s not that he doesn’t think Stiles could help, it’s that he doesn’t want Stiles to get hurt. And apparently Stiles knows that Derek feels that way, and knows Derek is vehement enough about it that he didn’t even bother bringing it up in the first place. That’s some serious trust and understanding, and even respect right there that Stiles is showing. Understanding what Derek would feel before he did it, trusting that Derek knew better about what was too dangerous for Stiles to involve himself in, and respecting him enough not to bug him about it anyway.

personal preference, I hate how much time is wasted just showing people walk down halls with weird lighting effects, or showing Allison trip over debris and pull her coat closed. Like...it’s really not needed?

Sup, Morrell? 20 seconds to get hidden? Is that 20 sec before the alphas get in hearing range or 20 sec before they actually get there? And how did the Alphas know that Derek was coming tonight? As far as they knew they took Isaac’s memory away and killed Braeden.

KALI WEAR SOM EFUCKING SHOES YOU NASSTY.

Smart girl with the bleach. I mean, I don’t know why the sudden scent of bleach didn’t tick kali off, but sure, whatever works.

I’m not even kidding. When I saw this scene for the first time I fucking burst into tears. Just that little glimpse of Erica and I was a mess

I really love Stiles and Peter chatting though. Like, Stiles gives no fucks, and Peter sounds just so used to it. Also, Derek’s couch looks sooooo comfy. I wanna sit on it. And Peter halfway through calling Stiles annoying is just like “Shit. He’s right. Again.” and there’s no physical distance. Peter once dragged Stiles around by his neck all night and nearly killed Lydia. But Stiles has no qualms about walking right up into his space and helping him out. PLUS, when Peter realizes Stiles is right, there’s no insults. Not even frustrated ones. When STiles describes the walls of the loft, Peter doesn’t say, “No, you idiot, the bank vault.” or make a quip. He’s immediately looking to Stiles for the information and trusting that he has it and will know where it is.

Then we have Scott just...whatever the fuck he’s saying. I don’t wanna hear it.

Okay, that is way more space behind Derek and Scott than Stiles said. And how is the moonlight even getting in? They had to shimmy through a shaft in the walls, there’s no windows in the walls. AND HOW THE FUCK would the ALpHA PACK KNOW THEY EVen KNOW WHERE THE BANK IS???

Derek should be able to hear the phone call. Just. Yes. That’s how that works. Also, Peter, now is not the time for gladiator analogies.

And the tears are back. All it takes is one fucking word. “Cora?”

IT DOESN”T MAKE SENSE. HOW WOULD THE ALPHAS KNOW??? If Marin hired Braeden and told her to get a message to Derek about the bank they were being kept at, then that means that it was all this really dumb double-double cross. Her making it look like she double-crossed the Alphas by telling Braeden to give up their location, but actually doing for the Alphas to trap Derek and Scott. What the absolute fuck?

FINALLY Someone holds Scott accountable. THANK you Derek.

Also, hello Lydia, I’m so sorry honey but you’re about to enter a whole new nightmare.

Final thoughts: I’m very long winded, and very frustrated and very fucking sad. I am just so goddamn sad and the next episode’s gonna make me feel even worse so I’m taking a break.

[catharticdaydream]

just stop your crying (it’ll be alright)

or, the one where obi wan learns ahsoka is alive. 

(read on ao3!: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29679684/chapters/72978921)

-

CHAPTER ONE:

ahsoka tano. it was a name obi wan hadn’t heard in years, and hadn’t expected to ever hear again. certainly not in a dirty cantina in tatooine years after the republic fell. after anakin fell. 

no, anakin skywalker was dead. vader killed him. anakin died the moment he pledged himself to the dark side, another victim of the clone wars, and the far more sinister plot that had been behind it than anyone had dared to believe. anakin had died, along with everyone else that obi wan had held dear. he had lost them all- anakin, padme, ahsoka- all in the span of one rotation. if obi wan thought about it for too long, he was afraid he’d never come back from the pit of despair. 

obi wan needed to do something, anything, after a particularly rough day, where the memories wouldn’t leave him alone. he had never been one to drink while he was a jedi, he found indulging in such things to be unnecessary, but ever since his fate became living in solitude, forced to watch over a boy from afar, vowing never to allow himself to get close to the boy...well such things didn’t seem like such a big deal anymore. he made his way to the cantina, ordered the strongest drink he could find, and sat down in a table in the far left corner. 

obi wan listened. he was good at listening. he mastered the art of listening years ago, whether it be listening to qui gon lecture him when he was a padawan, or listening to the jedi council debate for hours about the order, or listening to anakin and ahsoka ramble on about the latest holofilm they had seen. regardless of what it was, obi wan was a man of few words, but he heard everything going on around him. if you sat in a cantina long enough, you would hear a lot of stories. time lost its meaning, and quite honestly, obi wan could feel a little more normal in there, just another face in the crowd. 

“‘soka tano sent me,” was the phrase that threw obi wan out of his jawa-juice induced haze. he picked his head up, eyes darting in the direction of the voice. 

“what did you say?” obi wan asked, words coming out a little bit more slurred than he had anticipated. the men who had spoken, clearly bounty hunters of some kind, quieted down. 

“what’s it to you?” the biggest one, a trandoshan, said as he stood up. obi wan, jawa juice giving him courage, stood up as well. 

“that name, where did you hear it?” obi wan repeated. his heart was hammering unusually hard. 

“let me rephrase that. what’s it worth to you?” the trandoshan asked. obi wan reached into his pocket, handing over 5 credits. the trandoshan took them, inspected them, and put them in his pocket. 

“just a name i heard from a bounty hunter. some togrutan kid,” he shrugged. obi wan felt his heart beat faster.

“which bounty hunter?” obi wan pleaded. 

“hm?” the trandoshan asked. obi wan rolled his eyes, reached into his pocket, and put two more credits on the table.

“i said, which bounty hunter? what was his name?” 

“her name was bo. bo something...i don’t remember the last name,” the trandoshan said. 

“bo katan?” obi wan said incredulously. 

“yeah, yeah that was her. she’s here on mos eisley, if you want to talk to her. though i’d 

imagine her fee is a bit steeper than mine,” the trandoshan hissed. obi wan said, nothing, simply putting credits down on his table to pay for his drink, and darted out of the cantina. 

ahsoka was alive. ahsoka was alive. obi wan hadn’t seen her at the jedi temple after the attack, and lived with the horrible image of rex killing her, alone and afraid, for all these years. 

obi wan wasn’t sure when he had broken into a sprint, looking for some trace of bo katan, or better, ahsoka herself. he wasn’t sure what he’d do when he finally saw her. he’d spent years thinking about what he would have told his family if he had known that it was the last time he was going to see them. sure, he had tried to let them know how dear they were to him before every mission- but now, it still didn’t feel like enough. he hadn’t hugged them enough, told them he loved him enough, thanked them for being there for him through everything. and now, he may have a second chance. 

he looked everywhere for even a glimpse of something that could give him a clue as to her whereabouts, when he saw a woman walking in familiar mandalorian armour. 

“bo katan!” obi wan shouted. the woman stopped in her tracks, turing her head to the direction of the voice. when she was able to make out the face of her caller, she froze, and took off her helmet. 

“obi wan kenobi?” she asked in disbelief. “you’re alive?” 

“where’s ahsoka?” obi wan asked, wasting no time to achieve his task. 

“what? what are you doing here? how did you escape, i thought all the jedi had been-”

“bo katan, please. where’s ahsoka? i heard she was with you.” bo katan’s face hardened. 

“where did you hear that?” bo katan asked. 

“does it matter? bo, please. i need to see her, i need her to know i’m alive,” obi wan pleaded. bo katan’s face softened when she saw the look of pure desperation obi wan was currently wearing. she sighed. 

“look, come with me,” she said, putting her helmet on her head before looking around. she took obi wan’s wrist and pulled him into an alley covered by a battered and beaten tapestry. 

“i can’t tell you much. she’s working undercover with me. last time i talked to her, she was on jedha,” bo katan whispered. 

“jedha?” obi wan cried.

“shhh! what part of ‘undercover’ did you miss?” bo katan said, putting a finger up to his lips. 

“what the kriff is she doing there?” 

“i already said i couldn’t tell you much. in fact i’ve probably told you too much already,” bo katan sighed. obi wan looked around, eager to start his journey to find his grandpadawn. “listen to me obi wan,” bo katan started. 

“actually, it’s ben now,” obi wan corrected. bo katan scrunched her face up in confusion for a moment before disregarding the comment. 

“whatever you name is, listen up. if you do anything to compromise this mission, you will be joining my sister in the stars. got is?” the mention of satine sobered obi wan, who nodded. 

“thank you, bo katan. really,” obi wan said sincerely. she nodded, and without saying another word, took off on her jetpack. obi wan stood in a stunned silence for a moment, processing all of the new information that had been given to him. despite the deep seated sadness he felt for the actions that caused this situation to arise, obi wan couldn’t help but feel giddy with excitement. 

ahsoka was alive. 

he needed to find a ship to take him to jedha. he wasn’t sure how he’d be able to get one on tatooine- being a hermit didn’t exactly pay well. still, obi wan had been quite resourceful in his youth. then, there was the question of the young boy he was supposed to be keeping an eye on. watching over luke from afar proved to be a much harder task than he cared to admit- he wanted nothing more than to see the boy, all that remained of his brother and good friend, and teach him everything he knew. still, he knew better. he had seen what his love for anakin had done, and was terrified of doing the same thing to luke. 

he was sure that the boy, who was only four years old, couldn’t get into much trouble while obi wan was gone. of course, he was still anakin’s child, and obi wan could only hope that he took after padme when it came to his ability to create chaos. 

‘a ship,’ obi wan thought, remembering the task at hand. ‘i need to find a ship.’ he considered his options. he could steal a ship, sure, but obi wan liked to think that he still maintained some semblance of a moral code. he could buy a ship, but with his reputation and lack of funds, he was more than sure that anyone selling a ship would certainly take advantage of his desperate situation. his last option, and one that he desperately didn’t want to do, was to gently suggest to someone that they let him borrow his ship. obi wan had no idea if that would even work- he had closed himself off to the force months after anakin fell, their distorted bond too painful to bear. he hadn’t so much as mediated since that day. on top of that, if he was caught attempting to use the force, and he failed, he was certain that some bounty hunter wouldn’t hesitate to grab him and hand him over to the empire. 

but it still looked like his only option. 

he looked around for his target, somewhere isolated where he would risk the least if he failed. he found a small rodian unloading a small ship over by the back of the cantina. obi wan put his hood up and casually made his way to the ship. 

‘this is for ahsoka,’ he reminded himself. he walked up to the rodian and took a breath. 

“excuse me,” he said, getting his attention. 

“yeah? what do you want?” the rodian asked. obi wan sucked in a breath. “well? spit it out?”

obi wan held up a hand. “you will let me board your ship, and leave the planet,” he said, pretending not to notice the way he hand shook as if he were still a padawan. 

“what?” the rodian asked. obi wan felt his heart rate spike up. he swallowed the lump of fear in his throat, and raised his hand again, more confidently this time. he had been a jedi knight, a jedi master, and a general in the clone wars. he could do this.

“i said, you will let me board your ship, and leave the planet.” obi wan waited for a moment as the rodian stood up straight, and nodded. 

“i will let you board my ship and leave the planet,” he nodded, walking away without a second thought. obi wan breathed out a sigh of relief, and wasted no time running onto the ship, sitting down in the cockpit. he looked at the controls for a moment, and found himself, not for the first time, wishing anakin was with him. he was a good pilot, sure, but having anakin by his side always made him feel at ease. anakin was the best pilot he had ever met. 

‘snap out of it,’ obi wan reminded himself. ‘anakin is gone. but ahsoka may not be, and you need to find her.’ he pushed a few of the buttons, finding that perhaps not all of his knowledge that he had kept from his days as a general- knowledge that he thought he had shoved down to the darkest parts of his memory- were buried as deep has he had thought. obi wan felt actual joy as the ship sprung to life, and he set his course to jedha. 

the trip was going to be a long one, jedha was at least 5 parsecs away from tatooine, and he figured that, even while jumping to hyperspace, he’d be on the ship for at least a day. he set the course for jedha, and made the jump to hyperspace. obi wan leaved back in his seat, letting himself feel the full weight of the situation for the first time today. 

he was going to be seeing ahsoka. ahsoka tano, his grandpadawan, the girl who he let down, the girl who he loved as much as if she were his own padawan. when she had made the choice to leave the order, he had stood back and allowed anakin to talk to her, gave him time to grieve, but at night, when he was certain he was alone, would take his own time to mourn her. he and anakin may have had their differences in the way they showed affection, but obi wan would have done anything to protect that girl. and he had failed, just like he had failed everyone else. satine, padme, anakin, and ahsoka too; obi wan felt responsible for all of them. 

obi wan thought about what he was about to do. even if he did see ahsoka again, was he prepared for that? did he even have the words to tell her how sorry he was? and if he did, would it matter? what if ahsoka didn’t want to see him? what if she blamed him for anakins fall, for padme’s death. or worse, what if she did? obi wan wasn’t sure if he would be able to face her in the eyes and tell her what he had done. 

lost in his thoughts, and staring at the emptiness of space, obi wan fell asleep. 

[abalovesfic]

The Demon, The Exorcist, and the Memory Chapter 1

We all do stupid things. And sometimes that stupid thing is posting an entire 47k fic at once... which then actually lowers people’s ability to see it because you aren’t posting on a schedule. A lot of my readership comes from Tumblr and I really, really need it.  So why can’t I cross post already completed chapters? Leave your comments, hits, and blood offerings at  AO3. Help me fix the mistakes I made against my baby! @transcendence-au ---------- Dipper looked into the cup of hot chocolate, his reflection cast back into the dark brown slurry. He looked the same as always, gold irises piercing back at him. Same sharp teeth and dramatic wings. Even after all these years, he never truly managed to change. “So what exactly do you do on your 5013th birthday? I think I’m a little too old for parties,” he said.

“Don’t be silly.” She grabbed a handful of marshmallows and forced them down into her cup, followed by three candy canes and a thick pulse of fluffy whipped cream. “You’re never too old for cake and presents. Don’t you have friends to hang out with?”

“Yes, but I’ve never told them when my birthday was. Sorta ruins the whole immortal demon thing I’ve got going on,” he muttered, tapping his claws against the side of the mug. “The only person who I’d even tell is Mizar.”

She chugged some of the hot chocolate, pulling the cup away to reveal a chocolatey brown mustache over her upper lip. “You should tell her. I think she’d like to celebrate with you: this is the big 5-0-1-3.”

Dipper laughed at her, just for a moment, watching as she tried to lick the chocolate away. “I’ve only found Fang a few weeks ago. We’re still adjusting to each other, you know? Fang and I haven’t really clicked yet. She’s been… difficult.”

Grabbing a napkin from the table, she rubbed the chocolate from her face. “Well it sounds like this could be a bonding moment for you and Fang.” She paused and chewed on a strand of her dark hair in thought. “I know it’s not easy going through this every few hundred years… but she is Mizar. A lot of things change between incarnations, but your connection doesn’t. So go grab a couple cupcakes and go visit her. I promise, she’ll see right through that scary demon exterior to your soft squishy core.” Reaching over, she bopped him on the nose with one finger.  

Knocking her hand away, he laughed. “Cut it out.”

“Nope.” She bopped her finger against his nose again.

Dipper’s grin faded just as quickly as it arrived. Something sorrowful creeped over him. “And what would you want to do, for the big 5-0-1-3? After all,” he looked at her, the soft curls of her dark hair caressing her face, how her eyes looked so bright and awestruck. “It is your birthday too, Mabel.”

Mabel’s smile changed. What was once joyous turned to a thoughtful and sad glaze across her face. “Oh, Dipper.” Mabel wrapped one hand around his. Everything about her was intense, down to the texture of her fingerprints. He could smell the combination of perfume and hot glue on her skin, count the stands in her wool sweater, see every freckle on her nose. “I’m not really Mabel, I’m just a representation of her.”

“I know,” his voice broke, on the verge of a grief filled rage. “You don’t have to remind me every single time. At least pretend or something.”

His memory of her was perfect, concocted of every thought, every word ever spoken by or about her. The most precise image of his sister he could muster. She appeared in her late 20’s, soft bags under her eyes from the exhaustion of raising triplets, but also vibrant and full of life. Every time he came to see her, she wore a new sweater every time he saw her, generated from one of his memories. This one happened to be her pink birthday sweater, the one she initially planned to wear for their 13th birthday 5,000 years ago.

After a while it had gotten too hard. He had Mizar. Every moment with each incarnation was a new adventure. But it didn’t change the fact that there was only one Mizar he wanted to talk to. Only one Mizar who knew him for who he truly was. But the only place she still existed was in his own mind. And, after all, he controlled the mindscape. So who was to say he couldn’t rebuild her from his own memories?

Mabel slipped her hand up to his cheek and tried to force his gaze on to hers. “I know you don’t want to celebrate because you miss her. But she would want you to. I want you to.”

“But I want y̸̛͖̤̲̟o̶͛͐ͅu̸̡̝̪͕͂͗̂͠ ,” Dipper said, unaware of the snarl carving in his voice. “Don’t you get it? I’m so tired of going through this over and over again. I want m̷̱̑ͅy̷̝̤̥͕̐͛ ̷͉͖̞̕s̷̭̓̓ḯ̷̘̘̲̾̍s̷̖͑t̸̛͔͈̰̔͜ȩ̶̭͚͔̀̓̍̚r̷̡͚̜̪͒̋͝.̷͍̞̝̓̀͜.”  

“Hey, snap out of it. Listen to me for a moment.” She had that big goofy grin he adored. “If Mabel had stayed with you all these years, you would have missed so much. Belle, Maddie, Marcia, Lane: all of my incarnations have loved you so much and you loved them. The universe is like a big sweater, sometimes you have to get a new ball of yarn. And now you have Fang as your new ball of yarn!”

He sighed, “Fang is a little scared of me, I think.” He shook his head, “Actually, I know she is. She doesn’t trust me yet.”

“Duh I’m Dipper,” Mabel did her best mocking interpretation. “I’m socially awkward and emotionally isolated. I have a hard time making connections with people and I use being a demon as an excuse.”

“I do not!” he retorted.

“Do too!” She stuck her tongue out at him. “Bro, you have to show her who you are. Being Alcor the Dreambender isn’t gonna cut it. You have to show her Dipper, the dorky nerd who plays card games and reads the same book 5 times just to make sure he picked up on all the details. She’ll be scared if all you let her see are the dark and violent parts of what’s happened to you.”

He stared back down at his reflection in the hot chocolate, haunting, dark, and eternal. “I’m starting to forget who Dipper is. It’s been so long.”

“Then let me remind you. Dipper Pines is the most loving person in the world. He’d do anything for the people he loves, including follow their soul around for eternity. He’s been a little broken down over the years, but it’s never stopped him from trying. I know this is hard. But you’ve never given up before. Don’t start now.”  

His smile was faint, “Thanks, Mabes. You always know what to say.”

Leaning back, she crossed her arms and gave him a smug grin. “Yup. I’m a genius. Now go have a birthday party with Fang. Let her know that this is a special occasion and you want to share it with her .”  

“I will.” Standing up, he gave her a kiss on the cheek and turned to leave.

“Wait!” She cried. He turned around. She pointed at his still full cup of hot chocolate. “Are you gonna drink that?”

“It’s all yours,” he chuckled and walked out of the Mindscape.

------

Fang sat on her bed, her usual clambering and shrieking emo/punk music vibrating through her bedroom. The array of all black clothing consumed her. The sleeves were torn away from her shirt leaving nothing but fringe and the muscled curve of her arms. She had her hair pulled into the signature, stumpy pigtails atop her head. She wasn’t paying attention, as usual, chewing on a piece of bubble gum and staring into her MagiOrb. The image appeared backwards through the holoscreen, though he could tell she was looking at a news article about the unfortunate dismembering of a child-sacrificing cult this morning, having been found with their organs separated from their bodies. Fang was nosey, that was for sure. Dipper sucked in a breath, trying to push down his nerves. He positioned himself at the back of the bedroom and rapped his knuckles against the wall 3 times to get her attention.

At first she was startled, obviously she was. He had surprised her and she was still getting used to him. Not just the way he looked or the faint terror that radiated from him, but the fact that he had become tangible. No longer a myth or a legend, but someone real.

“Oh uhm… hey?” she said, unsure what to make of his unannounced presence. Scrambling, she turned off the MagiOrb and tucked it beneath her pillow, as if to hide what she was looking at.

“Sorry, I know it’s not one of our pre-planned meeting times, but I wanted to see you today,” he said, still standing awkwardly at the back of the room. Unlike past Mizars, he had agreed not to blip in and out of her life at random. They made a schedule of days and times she was willing to meet with him, all of those meetings lasting no more than an hour, and she could send him away without question. He had also agreed not to approach her without permission. So he stood off in the far corner of the room waiting for her to motion him closer.

Fang gave him a confused but cautious glance. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine. It’s all good. Today is just kind of an important day for me and I wanted to spend it with you.”

Her shoulders hunched forward with curiosity. “What’s today?”

“It’s sort of my 5,013th birthday.” He gave a mild smile and nervous jazz hands, confetti spurting from his fingers and then disappearing.

“Oh.” She blinked her dark eyes a few times, lashes thick with clumpy mascara. “I guess I hadn’t considered that you would even have a birthday. Let alone that you would celebrate it every year.” She pressed her lips together, sitting in an uncomfortable thought.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I realize I just sort of popped in here and dropped this birthday thing on you. That’s weird. Like you said, demons don’t really have birthdays.”  

“It’s okay,” she replied, a genuine sympathy curling into her voice. “No it's okay. I wish I had known, I would have gotten you a present or something. Now I feel bad.”

“Don’t. Really, it’s okay.”

He watched her inch closer, shuffling herself across the bed, wrinkling the blankets as she moved. “What sort of things do you like anyway? Beyond murder and eating souls?”

“Very funny,” he replied, a sarcastic spit to his tone. “But seriously, I do enjoy things outside of eating the occasional soul.” But then he softened for a moment to think about it. Mabel had told him to show Fang who he really was. He supposed this would be the way to do it. “For example: I like the top 40’s pop hits. And I love role playing games; the ones from the old days when you had dice and graph paper. I like the smell of pine trees, the real thing, not candles. Oh and candy; the good kind, not that loser stuff.”

“What are you,12?” A slight snort of laughter erupted from her.

“I’m 5,013 ,” he said and stuck his forked tongue out at her. This was the first time he had ever seen her laugh. After two months of scheduled meetings, trying to force just a little bit of conversation out of her, he finally got Fang to laugh.

“It’s just so weird,” she said, the laugh slowing in her voice. “I thought you were gonna say warfare or videos of people falling down the stairs. Maybe professional wrestling. Something a little more chaotic.”

He shrugged. “I don’t like any of those things. Okay, well, videos of people falling down the stairs are pretty funny but not in, like, a malicious way.”

Fang looked over at him, standing in the yellow lamplight in the back of the room. A pink hue flushed his cheeks. She reached out to pat the bed beside her, inviting him closer. He did so, not quite sitting on the bed but barely hovering over it and folding his wings up against his back. She still went rigid when he got close, but she held her ground.

“What about you?” he asked, leaning forward with his elbows pressed against his knees and chin resting on both hands. “What do you like?”

“Oh,” she blinked a few times, clumpy lashes sticking together. “I thought you would have rooted through my brain for that information.”

“I’m trying out this new thing called privacy. I hear humans like it.” She contorted her mouth in confusion and disgust. “I’m kidding,” he replied. “I know what privacy is. Despite what you may believe, I do have a sense of right and wrong.”

“I can’t help what I believe,” she replied. The silence hung between them as if sentenced to death on the gallows. And even though her music raged on with angry synth-drums and screaming lyrics, nothing could cover up the quiet between them. Fang sucked in a breath, looking away from him as if disinterested. “I like bubble gum, punk bands that say ‘fuck’, horror movies that are so bad they’re good, dunking all my foods in hot sauce, and…” she thought a moment, “killing demons.”

He must’ve turned a stark white. “Seriously? Well, that’s...”

She smiled, a subtle curve at the corner of her mouth. “I’m kidding. I can make jokes too. I mean, killing demons is fun, but I wouldn’t call it a hobby.” Her glance was sly and wry, a slip of her true personality slipping through her exterior.

“Are, uhm, you still going to exorcist training?” he asked.

He could see the pieces of her history strewn about the room, as if she left everything out in the open on purpose. Old demonology textbooks were stacked on the corner of her desk (you could tell they were old because books stopped going into print 2,000 years ago), a protection sigil hung over the door, all of her awards and medals for exorcism-training were displayed proudly in the same manner that other teenagers might display martial arts or science fair ribbons. There was a faint and lingering smell of burnt aromatics used to protect the home. Everything about Fang had been shaped and cultured to distrust him.

It was one of the universe’s sick jokes. First, to take Mizar away, keep her hidden from his sight for so long, and then to turn her against him.

The way Fang looked at him always seemed to be accompanied by a threat, as if she were counting the ways she could bring him down. “I am.” She said it so plainly, as if she meant to insult him with the mundanity of it. “Dropping out would be suspicious. I’ve been training since the day I turned 12, to stop so suddenly would raise concern in the community. I have to pretend like nothing has changed until I turn 18 and I can take my test to become a full exorcist. And besides,” she said. “I think I need it now more than ever.”

He perked up. “Does that mean you’ve given the whole Alcor and Mizar thing more thought?”

“I haven’t,” Fang replied, a cold snap to her voice. Dipper then realized she wasn’t talking about fighting demons with him, she was talking about fighting him. She was still worried he might betray her. “I just don’t understand this Mizar thing right now. I need more time to…”

“Adjust?”

“Yeah.”

“I understand.” His cheek puckered where he bit down on the inside of it.

Fang leaned back, using the palms of her hands to press against the bed and stretch out her back. “So,” she said, eager to keep talking in order to ignore the absurdity of her situation. “What did you want to do? Considering it’s your birthday and all.”

“Oh.” Dipper hadn’t expected to get this far. He thought Fang would have asked him to leave by that point. “I don’t know. It’s honestly been a really long time since I’ve celebrated with anyone. How do you typically celebrate?”

“I uhm,” Fang rested her cheek on her hand. “I don’t celebrate. My parents are usually too busy; not to mention they’re pretty terrible gift-givers. They always get me something related to exorcism. Seriously, for my 5th birthday they got me a copy of My First Demonic Dictionary . It had all sorts of fun words for kids like ‘circle’, ‘fire’, and ‘human sacrifice’. And three years ago, I said I wanted some new music downloads. So they got me 3 albums of Latin chanting.” Dipper chuckled a little at that, though Fang didn’t appreciate him mockering her misery. She punched him in the shoulder. It didn’t hurt. “Cut it out. It’s not funny!”

“Sorry, that's just a terrible present. Latin chanting is the worst . I’m more of a classics guy myself; like BABBA.” He cleared his throat, it was a terrible nervous habit, considering he didn’t have a throat nor did he have something to clear out of it. “So really, you just spend your birthday alone? No friends or anything?”  

“No, I’ve never been good at making or keeping friends.” She sighed and leaned backwards so that her shoulder blades touched the back wall by her bed. “I guess that’s one thing we have in common. We’re both good at being alone. Huh?” There was a slight arc in her lips, a certain kind of look in her black makeup-rimmed eyes. Fang had the face of a silent film star; someone who had perfect control over their expressions. There was something coy in her face, like she had left a snare for him to walk into. She had him all figured out.

“What makes you think I’m alone?” he replied.

“Because you’re spending your birthday with someone you barely know. That sounds pretty lonely to me.”

He laughed to himself, a sharp-toothed smile spreading across his face. “You’re very astute, Fang.” Then his smile faded into something more soft and contemplative. “But we aren’t alone right now. And all I’d really like for my birthday is for us to try to be friends.”

He could tell by the pucker in her bottom lip that she was thinking. Letting out a breath through her nose, the tips of her bangs ruffled. “I guess I can try.” The deep brown of her irises looked nearly black as her dark gaze settled on his.

For the first time, the smile she gave him was friendly and the tide of her breathing became relaxed. Maybe things were finally starting to change.

[cal-puddies]

you and ash used to date before he was famous, and he breaks up with you bc touring while dating would be too hard and a few weeks later you found out you were pregnant but you couldnt face him so you raise the baby alone, a few years later ashton is home visiting his parents, who know about the baby but swore to secrecy, and he sees you with the small child and put two and two together?

meet fletch || pt 1 || pt 2 || pt 3 || pt 4 || pt 5 || pt 6

You turn off your tv and sigh, you look at your 6 year old, the absolute spitting image of his father, right down to the green eyes and curls. “You look just like him.” You mumble.

“Who mama?” Fletcher asks.

“No one bubba. Mama is just talking to herself.”

“We goin to gamma?” He asks, because he loved ash’s mom, she knew all about Fletcher and you were happy to have her in his life. Lauren knew Fletcher was ashtons as well, but they’d both sworn they wouldn’t say a word.

You scoop up the boy, “yes, we’re gonna have dinner with Gamma and lauren.” You nod, kissing his cheek. “Get your shoes.”

You and Ash had decided to break up when he’d left for London with the boys, you hadn’t seen or spoken to him since, it was too much, first love and all. You’d found out weeks after he left that you were pregnant, and you didn’t want to stand in the way of his dreams. So you let him go… as much as you could. Fletcher James came out looking like Ash did as a baby, and you’d looped Anne Marie in, of course she wanted to be apart of his life, and she understood why you couldn’t tell Ashton.

You unbuckle him from his car seat and he runs into Anne’s waiting arms, she quickly passes him over to Lauren so you can hug. You watch as he smushes her cheeks between his hands and kisses her quick. Lauren laughs and puts him down, grabbing his hand.

“He’s getting so big.” Anne mentions.

“He looks more like his dad every day.” You nod, looking at him, he was coloring.

“Yeah he does.” Lauren agrees. “He’ll be home next week.” She offers.

“Are you ever gonna tell him?” Anne asks.

“I don’t know. It’d do now what it would have done then, stunt his career. And I don’t want to do that to him.” You shake your head.

“But think about what Ashton would want. He’d want to know his son, of that I am very sure.” Lauren points out.

“I know you’re right.” You nod. “I just don’t know how to do it now.” You shrug.

You forget about the boys coming home. And you take fletcher out for a little shopping day. He’s growing like a week and he needs some new clothes. You run into Luke, you’d met him once briefly at the movies with Ashton. He kind of eyes the boy, but doesn’t say anything.

Even running into Luke, you don’t think anything about Ashton being in town.

But he thinks about you. He always does when he’s in town, and especially seeing you across the street right now, with a little boy.

It stays in his mind, but of course you moved on. He was gone and you stopped talking, there’s no way you were still holding on to him.

“Hey mom.” He asks, at home with his family. She looks at him. “Do you ever talk to my ex anymore? The one from here? We broke up when I left.” He reminds her.

“Uh, when I see her out occassionally we’ll chat, why?”

“I saw her. When Luke and I were out today, did you know she has a kid? Or I assumed it’s her kid anyway.”

“Yeah… a little boy, he’s six.” Anne confirms.

“Did she get married?” he asks.

“No, she’s raising him alone.” She shrugs, clearly not wanting to talk about it anymore.

But it keeps Ashton up, because if he’s six and you didn’t get married… could this kid be his? Then he thinks better of it. You knew how important that’d be to him. And he doesn’t think that you’d do something like that to him.

He hears you, “C’mon Fletch.” He’d know your voice anywhere.

You see Anne first, Ashton following her through the grocery store, just trying to spend time with his mom.

“Fletcher James.” Anne Marie says, completely forgetting that Ash is there.

The boy runs to her. “Hi gramma!” He greets, kissing her cheek.

You stop dead in your tracks when you see Ashton. He eyes you, and looks at the kid.

You approach slowly, “hey ash.” You say, fletcher wiggles away from Anne and comes back to you.

“Hey.” He looks slightly upset.

But Anne Marie cuts in. “Why don’t you finish your grocery shopping and come see Ash at ours.” She suggests, and you nod and agree.

“You knew.” He mentions to her.

“Now is not the time Ashton.” She chides, as they walk away.

Fletcher runs to the door when you get to Anne’s, he lets himself in and runs right into Ashton, as you walk through the door.

“Who’s this little guy?” He asks, crouching to Fletch’s level.

“This is Fletcher James, fletch. Fletch, this is Ashton.” You introduce.

“How do you know momma?” He asks.

“I’ve known your mom, probably since we were your age.” Ash explains.

“How do you know gramma?” Fletch asks.

“She’s my mom.” He explains.

“Oh, cool.” Fletch grins, he looks back at you, “can I go see aunt Lauren?”

“Yeah bub, go ahead.” You nod.

Ash waits till he’s out of ear shot, “he looks just like me.” He points out.

“Which is why I couldn’t keep it from your mom.” You nod.

“But you could keep it from me?” He hisses.

“You haven’t even asked if he’s actually yours!” You exclaim.

“Baby, how could he not be. This timeline… you got pregnant the last time we were together, which makes sense on why you wouldn’t have told me before I left, and we didn’t speak after… but why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t tell you, for you.” You say.

“Why don’t you two go out back? we’ll keep an eye on fletch.” Anne ushers you away.

“You know what this would have meant to me.” Ash accuses, as soon as youre out the door.

“And I know it would have stopped you, you would have come home, you wouldn’t have pursued your career and fuck Ashton, you are phenomenal. People love you. They love your music and they love your vision. I couldn’t let you give that up.” You sigh, “we both know, if I’d said something, if I’d reached out, you wouldn’t have stayed in the band… And we’re ok. Fletch and I… were good. He’s so smart Ash and musically inclined just like his dad.”

“Does he know about me at all?” Ash asks.

“I tell him you love him, but I’ve never told him your name or what you do, or where you are.” You shrug.

“He deserves to know those things.” Ash whispers. “And I deserve to know about him; his favorite color, his first word… I would have wanted to be around for those things.”

“I know Ashton… I know.” You nod.

Ashton is annoyed, and the guys know. By now he’s spilled everything to them; half in an effort to get them against you, and half to see what they’d say.

“I get why you’re mad mate.” Cal clamps him on the shoulder and sits next to him. “But you’re looking at it all wrong. You’re looking at it very one sided.”

“What do you mean? She took away the chance to know my son.”

“Yes, I understand you feel that way. But I’ve been thinking about this. She didn’t completely take away the chance because he still exists. But she gave you a gift, mate. She allowed you to follow your dreams. She truly took the completely selfless way about this. And I know it’s hard for you to see that right now.”

“I just want to be able to know him.” Ash says.

“So ask for that.” Luke shrugs.

“I did… she refused to move to LA so he’d be closer.” He scoffs.

“That kinda makes sense too though, right? She doesn’t have anything in LA Ash. No family, no friends, no job.”

“She’d have me.”

“But the only reason you want her there is for your kid. You have Kay Kay now. You don’t want her, so the only reason she has to move there is for you to know Fletch.” Cal shrugs.

“Huh.” Ash sighs, “I didn’t think of it that way.” He admits.

[adoredontour]

all the fics i read and loved this month. under the cut and in order from longest to shortest! 

Walk That Mile by purpledaisy @daisyharry 149k 

Harry stares at him, the line of his jaw standing out scarily. “I wanted to get the most out of this trip so I planned it carefully.” His voice is low and steady and somehow that’s worse than when he was yelling. “So far, you’ve put your sticky fingers on everything I��ve tried to do.”

“Sticky fingers?” Louis repeats, offended. “Are you saying it’s my fault you got stung by a bee? Had you been alone you would have gotten halfway to the Dotty Diner and ran the car off the road because of an allergic reaction, so don’t go blaming me.”

“Polk-A-Dot Drive In,” Harry spits before getting out of the car. He slams the door shut with a deafening reverb and Louis rolls his eyes.

Empty Skies by green_feelings  134k

For three years, Harry has been running from his past. Now, he is moving to London and pledges to fulfil his only dream -- making it big in the music industry. Not everyone has a place, though, and the competition is tough. As is his past catching up on him.

Louis is part of the biggest boy band of the world, and getting there had meant a lot of hard work, as well as sacrificing parts of his heart and soul. He's still happy. Maybe not as happy as he could be, but who is he to complain?

Featuring Perrie as Harry's adorable flatmate, Niall as his manager, and Liam and Zayn as Louis' bandmates.

The Killing Type by protagonist_m @protagonist-m 130k

Liam breathes hotly through his nose, eyes twitching shut as he squeezes a bit more on Zayn’s neck. “Do you know how dangerous what you’re doing is?”

Zayn draws in his own ragged breath. “Do you?”

Zayn is a doctoral student who goes to great lengths to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Liam is heading the biggest serial murder investigation London has seen in half a century. And before this, he'd never been sent a love note via corpse.

That Sounds Fake But Okay by dancingontheceiling 112k

Harry Styles is a rookie journalist forced to work the gossip desk at a major New York magazine. Louis Tomlinson is the A-list actor who doesn't appreciate Harry or his articles.

Ghost Note Symphony by whoknows @crazyupsetter 96k

Louis is on tour when he first hears about it. It’s all over the news – Harry Styles Attacked By Fan runs in headlines for days. It’s not even just the gossip rags, either. Actual journalists are covering the story. It would have been impossible to avoid hearing about it. Technically, Oli is the one who tells Louis about it, but it’s not exactly being covered up. Harry doesn’t answer Louis’ text asking if he’s alright, but that’s not really surprising. They haven’t spoken for months, and it’s been a lot longer than that since they’ve had a real conversation. The sting of the text going unanswered is still there, less painful than it might have been a few years ago.

It’s not that it’s easy to forget about, exactly. Louis has a whole life outside of One Direction now, though. So Louis goes on with his life, figuring that if Harry was seriously hurt he would have heard about it by now. He might currently be in the same country as Harry, but being on opposite sides of it puts enough distance between them that putting it in the back of his mind is easy. There’s nothing Louis could do, even if he thought Harry might want him to.

That’s why everything that happens next comes as a complete shock to him.

Nothing But You On My Mind by nonsensedarling @absoloutenonsense 83k

Louis Tomlinson is a PR manager hired to improve the image of royal bad-boy Prince Harry Styles. Unfortunately for him, that means being faced with the Prince's constant innuendos, incessant dirty jokes, and relentless flirting. Louis just wants to make it to Princess Gemma's coronation; once she's crowned Queen, his contract is up and he never has to see the Prince again.

The Lone Hydrangea by lightswoodmagic @lightwoodsmagic 77k

the post Hogwarts AU where Harry's a florist, Louis' a muggle who edits fantasy books, and they both have no say in how quickly they fall for each other

Hands Clasped Tight by afirethatcannotdie  @afirethatcannotdie 44k

Or the one where Harry and Louis are high school teachers and their students have been playing matchmaker for over a year. Little do they know, Harry and Louis are already married. 

blind from this sweet, sweet craving by missandrogyny @missandrogyny 31k

"So, I guess we'll go?" Louis asks later, when Harry has calmed down and eaten his weight in Chinese food. He plays with this chopsticks, spearing another piece of chicken and pops it in his mouth. "I mean, I wouldn't mind. We could make it an adventure."

Harry observes him, watches him seated across from him on their old living room carpet, with a container of food on his lap. He's fidgeting, avoiding meeting Harry's gaze–he probably knows that Harry's mad at him for ruining the one chance they had to get out of this situation. And he's not wrong, Harry is definitely very mad. Harry wants to strangle him and castrate him and smack him upside the head.

But he's also Harry's best friend, and despite everything, despite all the fuck-ups and the plot twists and everything just not playing out the way it should, he'd still rather be stuck in this situation with Louis than any of the other boys. He's got Harry's back, and in a weird, abstract way, he knows they'll be able to get out of this situation, together.

Harry sighs. "We're going," he says resignedly, his shoulders slumping.

Oh well. There are definitely worse ways to spend the weekend than pretending to be engaged to his best friend.

Play The Odds by alivingfire @alivingfire 25k

Harry and Louis are best friends since childhood who, after a night of drinking, find themselves locked in a bet: first one to kiss the other a thousand times wins. Wins what? They don't know. Glory, Harry supposes. Bragging rights, though those don't do much in this economy. All Harry knows is that this is one bet he can finally win. What he doesn't expect, though, is what happens when he starts kissing his best friend on a daily basis.

Namely, he doesn't expect falling head over heels in love with his best friend.

Now all he has to do is make sure the bet never ends, so he never has to stop kissing Louis.

Harry The Helpful Ghost by tempolarriefics @tempolarriefix 15k

“I just like to help.” Louis blinks at the ghost in shock. “Were you the one who fixed the lights yesterday as well? And made me food?” “I helped you,” Harry says simply. He raises his eyebrows, nodding towards where Louis’ hands are folded in his lap to cover his erection. “Could help you out with that as well, if you wanted.”

If Tomorrow Never Comes (We Had Last Night) by FallingLikeThis, Rearviewdreamer  14k

Louis accepts the call without bothering to look at the caller ID. Only Zayn would be a big enough asshole to call him at two in the morning. This fucking better be important. “This fucking better be important,” Louis greets.

On the other end of the line comes a soft giggle. “Li, you don’t usually curse. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I like it.”

Yeah, that’s not Zayn. Louis sighs, his anger melting into resignation when he realizes that it’s some poor bastard probably drunk dialing his ex or something. “Sorry, mate. Think you’ve got the wrong number.”

what i’d do to have you near by softhar @wastelandharry 1.4k

Oh, to be a handsome young navy man in 1930 with curly hair and dirt on my nose on my break from hauling cargo from the shipyard, reading a Little Blue Book titled Homosexual Life that I bought for 5¢, pretending not to notice the banker’s son eyeing me in a truly sinful way.

[imagine-avengers]

Bakery Part Three- Bucky Barnes Series

3/5  Parts 1-2 can be found on my masterlist as will the other two parts once they come out!

Little did Bucky know that he wouldn’t see Melody for another year and he’d only see her again because Steve and Natasha were getting married.

“Oh Nat, Stevie!” Melody chimed running up to where the bride and groom were standing in the reception hall. “I’m so happy for you!” She cried hugging both of them. Neither Steve or Natasha noticed Melody slip into the church when they were getting married in. Over the year, Melody had taken a job as a pastry chef at a small bakery, still lived in the same building but pulled away from all her friends. Only speaking to Natasha and Wanda, occasionally her brother or Sam. In that year, Melody had had a few dates but nothing super steady.

“You were late.” Steve teased as Melody shoved him away from her.

“I had to put the finishing touches on your cake Stevie.” Melody smoothed out her rose gold dress before hearing a voice she hadn’t heard in a year.

“You did it punk.” Spoke Bucky, causing Melody to turn and notice the pretty blonde on his arm, Jeanne, if she recalled correctly.

“That I did.” Steve glanced at his wife with a grin causing Melody to tear up. “Oh stop blubbering.” Steve looked to his sister.

“I’m sorry! I’m just so happy for you two.” Melody smiled before locking eyes with Bucky.

“I hope our wedding is as beautiful as yours was. You’ll be back from your honeymoon in time right?” Jeanne asked looking at Natasha who watched Melody’s reaction. Melody frowned, her eyes falling on the ring that laid on Jeanne’s finger.

“You’re getting married?” Melody looked to Bucky.

“Wait you didn’t tell her?” Steve asked looking at Bucky as well. Bucky shifted uncomfortably.

“Jeanne, this is Melody, Steve’s sister.” Bucky introduced, both girls smiled at each other before Melody looked back at her. “Yeah, end of the month.” He spoke as Melody nodded.

“Well, congratulations, I’m sure it’ll be beautiful. Excuse me.” Melody spoke walking away and heading to the bar where she ordered a glass of wine.

“Mel.” She heard Natasha behind her but she shook her head, the wine glass glued to her lips as she drank. “Melody.”

“He didn’t even have the nerve to tell me, or even invite me.” She spoke after draining the glass and looking to the bartender for another. “He’s getting married.” Melody spoke softly, looking at Natasha, her own eyes filling with tears for a different reason than before.

“Melody.” Natasha rested a hand on her sister-in-law’s shoulder. “He didn’t invite you because I think we both know if you went you’d stop the wedding, or Bucky wouldn’t be able to go through with it,”

“Don’t Nat, please.” Melody spoke as she took a drink from her second glass. “He deserves to be happy.” Melody looked to where James and Jeanne were speaking with his mother. “That’s all I want for him, and if she makes him happy, then who am I to get in the way of that?”

“But you deserve to be happy to.” Natasha told her.

“I am happy. I have a great job, a family that I love,”

“Melody, you hate your job, you’re not one to be bossed around, we both know that.”

“Well I don’t exactly have any other choice, do I Natasha?” Melody spoke to her. “I already lost a business, can’t afford to open another one.” Melody spotted Bucky’s mother, Winnifred looking at her. “Excuse me.” Melody walked away from Natasha and found Winnifred walking towards her.

“Melody, dear it’s been too long.” Melody smiled at her.

“Much too long Winnie.” Melody hugged the woman.

“Join us at our table.” Winnie lead Melody to her table, where her three daughter, Rebecca, Frances, and Mary were sitting, along with Bucky and Jeanne.

“Melody!” Rebecca stood and hugged her, along with Frances and Mary.

“Hello girls.” She greeted the three. Growing up, Melody had been close to them, helping Winnie take care of them after George died, even more so when her own mother passed. “Look at you Mary!” Melody spoke to Bucky’s youngest sister, whom wasn’t more than twenty. She was the spitting image of their mother. “Let me see that ring.”

“How did you,” Mary stopped and held out her hand, showing off her engagement ring.

“My brother is the worst at keeping things to himself.” Spoke Melody before she glanced to Frances, the middle of three girls, at twenty two, she had been married for six months and expecting her first child. “And you Frannie.” Melody grinned at her. “Stevie said you were having a girl.”

“I am, Georgette, after dad.” Melody smiled at that.

“Well congratulations Frannie.” Melody smiled and looked to Rebecca. “And what are you up to Becs? Stevie didn’t have much information on the infamous Rebecca Barnes.” Teased Melody. Rebecca was the second oldest, still being a few years younger than Bucky, and she was a writer.

“She just had an article published in the Times.” Spoke Winnie.

“Really? Oh my god Becs, that’s so exciting!” Melody grinned at the girl. “James mentioned you were writing a book.” Rebecca’s smile grew and she began speaking of the book she had been writing for over a year.

-

“I can’t believe Steve and Nat finally tied the knot.” Spoke Mary over dinner, the seven of them eating almost silently.

“Well, they’ve been together for years, I’m glad that Steve finally got off his ass, sorry Winnie,” Melody flashed the woman an apologetic smile at her language. “and finally asked Nat.”

“Winnie?” Jeanne spoke softly to Bucky. “Your mother won’t let me call her anything but Mrs. Barnes.” She spoke later that evening after Winnie went to use the bathroom.

“Melody’s been a family friend since we moved to Brooklyn.” Spoke Rebecca.

“Then why has Bucky never spoken of her?” Jeanne asked looking around the table, Bucky didn’t speak as he eyed Melody whom set her wine glass down.

“Because he doesn’t want everyone to find out that we dated. Only like five people know.” Melody spoke. “Not like it matters anyways, Steve knows, Steve’s the reason we broke up, right James?” Melody’s eyes landed on him as Winnie rejoined the table. “Why would he want to go around telling people that he dated his best friends sister and then broke up with her with some bullshit lie about leading her on?” Melody and Bucky held eye contact, his eyes pleading her to stop talking. “Why would he tell you anything about me when it could lead to that? Lead to his family finding out about how he broke my heart. Why do you think I didn’t even know you were engaged?” Melody’s eyes looked to Jeanne. “Or that I wasn’t invited to his wedding? One of his oldest friends, and I wasn’t even invited to the wedding in fear that I’d object to your union.” Melody spoke as she stood from her chair. Her eyes landing on Bucky again. “Which I wouldn’t, as I said a year ago, all I want is for you to be happy.” Melody looked to Winnie, Rebecca, Frances, and Mary. “It was lovely to see you all again, but I think it’s time I depart, I have work in the morning.”

“Well stop by the shop soon,” Winnie spoke but Melody laughed.

“See he didn’t tell you that either.” Melody spoke. “Winnie, I lost the shop a year ago, couldn’t afford to keep it. But I really have to go. It was nice meeting you Jeanne.” Melody locked eyes with Bucky again before heading to the front table where her brother and Natasha were sitting.

“You’re leaving.” Steve spoke as he watched Melody approach.

“Yeah.” She nodded. “Better if I do now.” She said softly as she moved around the table to hug him. “I’m so happy for you Stevie, really, mom and dad would be too.” Melody pulled away from her brother.

“You’ll have this chance one day Mel,” Melody’s eyes landed on Bucky again, whom seemed to be getting chewed out by his mother and Jeanne.

“I don’t think I will Steve.” She looked back at him. “It’s been a year and I’m still in love with him. He’s getting married to someone else Steve.” She said softly. “I’m going.” Pressing a kiss to her brothers cheek, she hugged Natasha before leaving the hall and grabbing a cab.

“Are you okay miss?” The cab driver asked as he noticed Melody’s tear stained cheeks.

“Yeah.” Melody nodded looked at the old man. “My brother’s wedding, I’m happy.”

“But you’re also sad.” Spoke the driver as Melody laughed but nodded.

“The guy I love is getting married in four weeks.” She spoke to the stranger. “My brothers best friends, didn’t even have the guts to invite me to his wedding.” Melody spoke to the cab driver for another twenty minutes until they pulled up to her apartment and inside on the table, was a note, that had been there for fifteen days, an eviction notice.

and Melody was meeting Steve and Natasha for lunch the day after they had gotten back from their honeymoon.

“There they are.” Melody smiled, seeing the two entering the small diner. “Tell me everything.” Melody said. The two went on and on about their honeymoon before asking Melody what had been going on, leading to her to frown. “I uh, I’m late on rent.” She spoke softly.

“Do you need money?” Asked Steve but Melody shook her head.

“No. I uh, have two days to be out. Got the notice a few weeks before your wedding. I could use a place to crash until I get back on my feet though.” Steve nodded.

“We have Bucky’s old room; you’re welcome to it.” Natasha spoke as Melody smiled at her.

“I also lost my job two days ago.” Melody covered her face and began crying. “I’m a mess.”

“Mel.” Steve spoke softly, resting a hand on Melody’s shoulder. “You’re just having a hard time; it’s going to be okay.”

“A year ago, I had my own bakery Steve, today, I don’t have a job or a place to live. I’m a mess.” The three had their lunch after calming Melody down. Then they hired a mover and moved her into their apartment where she took the very small spare room before putting her bigger furniture into the storage unit that she was still paying for.

Three days had passed, and Melody was sitting on the couch in Steve and Natasha’s apartment searching for jobs when in came Bucky, without knocking.

“You’re not Steve or Nat.” He spoke causing Melody to look up.

“Nope.” She stated. “Nat’s at work, Steve’s at the studio.”

“What are you doing here then?” Bucky asked as Melody set her laptop on the table.

“I live here.” Bucky took a seat on the chair that sat diagonal from her.

“What? No you don’t, you have your apartment,”

“I couldn’t pay rent.” She shrugged. “Things have been hard lately.” Bucky sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Truth is, they’ve been hard for a while. I’ve borrowed money from Steve and Nat more times than I can count. I stopped asking when the wedding started coming, I knew they needed the money.”

“But you have a job, why didn’t you find something cheaper or a better job?” Melody stared at him.

“Not many people want to hire a pastry chef who lost their shop. I couldn’t afford anything cheaper Bucky, that was the cheapest complex around. I can’t afford anything now, lost my job last week.” Melody shrugged. “Can’t blame them though, they’re going through hard times, I was the last one in so the first one out.” She stated softly.

“Gods Mel, why didn’t you say something?” Bucky asked as Melody scoffed.

“Yes, because we’re such great friends, right?” Melody asked sarcastically. “I couldn’t call you James. Especially after you broke up with me. Would you have answered?”

“Probably not.” He spoke hesitantly.

“Exactly. You have your own shit going on James. Your own wedding, I’ll figure it out, I’m a big girl.” She spoke looking at her lap.

“Melody, you know it’s okay to ask for help,”

“Yeah it is okay to ask for help.” She looked up at him, tears rolling down her cheeks. “But not from the love of your life who’s getting married in two weeks. Don’t worry about me.” Melody stood up.

“Don’t say that, don’t say you love me.” Bucky spoke as Melody stared at him.

“What? Afraid to hear me say it now? After a year? You never gave me a chance to tell you James! You never gave me a chance.” There was a hidden meaning behind Melody’s words, one that Bucky picked up on immediately.

“I never gave you a chance? Fuck Melody, we were together for six months! You don’t fall in love that fast!” Bucky threw his hands up.

“I’ve loved you since I was fourteen James! You never gave us a chance to find that out though! You broke up with me because Steve told you to. Steve didn’t want you dating his baby sister, Steve didn’t want you to break my heart.” She stated. “But that’s what you did.”

“It wasn’t about Steve! God it was about you being impulsive and charging to your brother screaming about our relationship!” James had stood from his spot. “You never thought before you did anything, which is why you lost your shop, your apartment, and this job! You never think!” James’ words were harsh and resonated in Melody’s ears as she nodded.

“You’re right, I was too impulsive, I agreed to date you so, shows my track record didn’t faulter.” She hissed as Steve entered the apartment. “Good you’re home.” She mumbled slipping her shoes and coat on before grabbing her keys. “James is here.” She stormed out of the apartment and heading to the coffee shop that Natasha now worked at while she was finishing law school.

“Hey.” Greeted Natasha when Melody made it to the counter.

“Biggest coffee you have.” She told her as Natasha nodded.

“You okay?” She asked softly, no one was in line behind Melody.

“James Barnes.” Is all Melody spoke.

“Oh god, what did Bucky do now?” Natasha turned away from her friend as she began making Melody’s coffee.

“Showed up, blamed my ‘impulsiveness’ for us breaking up, for me losing the bakery, my job, the apartment, list goes on apparently.” Nat looked back at her, nose scrunched up.

“You impulsive? Melody, you are the most non impulsive person I know. Hell, you planned out every aspect of my honeymoon.” Melody shrugged as she stared at the counter. “Not that Steve and I followed any of it.”

“No, of course you didn’t.” Melody sighed. “I got offered a job a few weeks ago.” Melody whispered. “In LA.” This caused Natasha to look up and stop what she was doing. “Running a pastry school, they’d make a down payment on a place for me, I’m, I’m thinking of taking it.”

“Mel, that’s amazing!” Natasha grinned. “You should take it, you’re twenty-five, this is a good position.” Melody nodded and she and Natasha talked for a while.

The week came and went and before she knew it, it was the day of Bucky’s wedding. Melody had called and taken the job in LA, them finding her a small studio apartment and she was taking a moving truck out that night.

“Hey.” Steve had finished getting ready and was standing in the living room watching his sister pack a small box of her books.

“Hey.” Melody looked up at him and smiled. “You look great Stevie.” She spoke softly.

“You gonna be okay?” Melody nodded.

“Yeah Stevie.” Standing from where she sat on the floor, she moved towards him. “You’re only a phone call away.” She shrugged. “I’ll be fine, promise.”

“If you need anything Mel,”

“I’ll call.” Melody agreed as Natasha came out of their bedroom, a pale purple dress on. “God, you look amazing Nat.” Melody hugged her sister in law.

“This should be your wedding.” Natasha spoke to her, not bothering to hide her feeling about Bucky’s choice in wife.

“No Nat.” Melody shook her head and stepped back. “My time hasn’t come yet. Maybe it will one day, but not today and not with James Barnes. Now go, we can’t have the best man being late!” Melody grinned, despite wanting to cry. “Go, I love you both, I’ll call you tonight when I stop to sleep.” Melody hugged her brother and sister in law whom left the apartment before she finished her packing and loaded the last few boxes into the moving truck she rented. “Onto the next chapter of my life.” Melody looked around, swearing she caught the glimpse of the stormy blue eyes she loved, but when she looked back at the building across the street, no one was there.

This is the third part in a five part series. Thank you for reading my lovelies!