#got fucking pissed off at the bus (home half an hour late AND they missed my stop AGAIN) but at least i had this to keep me going

[toastsnaffler]

exordia is so sickeningly fun so far.. I almost regret starting it at work bc I've been itching thinking abt it all afternoon its sooo visual to me

[thessalian]

Thess vs the 168 Bus

Quite apart from worrying about the truly ugly state of the world at the moment, today’s commute was a fairly large slice of hell.

Something’s been going on with the 168 bus to Hampstead Heath. As in, one won’t show up for, like, half an hour no matter what the live-update system says. Two days in a row now, I’ve ended up at the very start of that bus route, waiting, while the live-update system said that the bus was due for twenty minutes before it deigned to show up. Hasn’t been great going the opposite way either, but at least then it’s not a “late for work” thing.

So anyway, today I got on the bus fairly late, but since I arrange things so I get into work early, I figured I’d be okay.

Except then there was an ambulance blocking the bus lane somewhere around Holborn. Which, y’know, shit happens, but still aggravating, especially when the traffic’s bad and none of the drivers will allow the bus to merge into the one remaining lane just long enough to get around the ambulance. Because no, that would be civil.

Then there were the roadworks around Russell Square. Again, single lane, no one letting us merge... By the time I got as far as Euston, it was 10:55am, I already knew the bus would be on diversion around Camden High Street because Thames Water has apparently decided to rip up all the streets at once, and honestly, much as I didn’t want the expenditure of the Tube, I wanted to be as close to on time as I could and avoid this traffic bullshit. So I got off at Euston to catch the Tube.

I forgot a few things about Euston. Like, how it’s a pretty big station, both on the horizontal and vertical planes. And of course, the platform I wanted was down, like, three escalators and across the station from the entrance. And then I had to get off at Belsize Park, which isn’t particularly step-free on the underground levels (at least it has elevators), and then walk the quarter-mile to work on top of all the other walking I had to do. Which was slow going because I already hurt like you wouldn’t believe.

So I got into work twenty minutes late, aching and frustrated. Thankfully, no one made an issue of it - I guess when you routinely get in 10-15 minutes early, you can be forgiven for lateness of that type. Besides, everybody knows what public transport is like.

One good thing - we’re slightly less understaffed now. The elderly lady who always tells me I’m looking well no matter how shit I actually feel came back! Apparently she was away so long because of a couple of slip-and-fall accidents immediately after a pretty bad case of Covid, so it’s not surprising she’s been away so long. No word on the lady away for maternity leave, though. And honestly, Scruffman’s starting to piss everybody off with his lack of communication. I’m used to Temp sounding off about him (and she definitely had every right to today, since he apparently threw her under the bus when someone complained about one small, easy-to-miss transposition error in a bit of typing, when she’d been basically perfect for an entire year and didn’t deserve what the complainer was saying), but Milady? I have never heard Milady go off like that before. Anyway, we’ve made a reasonable dent in the backlog to the point where we actually got to some of today’s typing today. Though I have discovered that while Temp is at least easing off the “Leave all the long shit for someone else to deal with” bullshit, Goblin has taken up that mantle with a vengeance.

Anyway. Got through the day, was looking forward to just having a nap on the long bus ride from Hampstead to Elephant and Castle, where I switch buses on the way home. And, just as we hit Euston, we get the recorded announcement of, “Destination change. Please listen for further announcements”.

Oh fuck, think I.

Then we get the ‘further announcement’, to wit: “168 ... to ... Russell Square”.

Russell Square is only like two stops from Euston. So basically we were going to be thrown off the bus sooner rather than later. Which ... well, fuck, here we go again. Given my options, I thought I’d cross the road and go over to Euston bus station, where I could get a 68 either to Elephant and Castle or just off to Tulse Hill where I could get a different connecting bus home. Except when I got there, the bus had just left the station and was on the main road, waiting at the intersection. The next one wasn’t supposed to come for another fifteen minutes, so I had a snack and considered my options.

When I was done with my snack, the bus still had not moved, nor had any of the other traffic at that intersection, which indicated an accident or other road-closing situation. I considered the rest of my options and, with a grumble and a sigh, went back to Euston for the Tube.

Euston’s bad enough to navigate as a station. Elephant and Castle is worse. There are two separate entrances for two separate lines - I mean, you can access both no matter which line you took, but if, say, you travelled there on the Northern Line but wanted to leave via the Bakerloo Line entrance because that’s closer to your bus stop (and the stop you could use that’s nearest the Northern Line entrance is shut for yet more fucking roadworks), you have to walk through the station to the Bakerloo Line platform - again, long hike plus stairs - to get to the right elevator to get out.

And by the time I’d done all that, I was tired, in serious pain, and had missed my bus. Thankfully another wasn’t too far behind, but still. This was shit I did not need.

I don’t know what I’m going to do about the 168. If it keeps being unreliable like this, how the hell am I supposed to get to work? I can’t just leave a half-hour earlier. I might as well not be part-time at all if I do that. The Tube is expensive and I hate it, and I don’t like relying on the Overground because they’re always involved in the strike action (I support the strike; I’m just not going to be a scab). They really need to get a move on with this work from home thing.

[anthonysstupiddailyblog]

Anthony’s Stupid Daily Blog (204): Wed 5th Oct 2022

Went in to do overtime this morning and since it was time and a half that means I made £100 for 5 hours of work in the warehouse which is no bad thing. I would have volunteered to do the whole day but I had an appointment tonight at the Spire at 5:30 so I needed to get away early. While I was working my manager came up to me and congratulated me as I had passed my probation. I had assumed that I had passed the thing anyway since it's been nearly four months since I started working here and probation ends after three months but I was nevertheless happy to have this confirmed. After my former manager turned out to be a bit confused about how our productivity was reflected in statistics and told me I needed to improve even though in reality I was one of the top stowers on the floor, I was a bit worried that I might not last long with this company. However this news eradicated all that and I was so happy that I screamed "YEAH, PARTY" and high fived my manager which I think might be a first for me. I wanted to high five my manager at Aldi but I wanted to high five him in his face because he was a fucking knobhead. This was such a relief as I've been so worried about job security lately especially with rising energy bills on the horizon. After the horrible experience at the call centre I was also worried that maybe I was just a dumb cunt who can't do anything right and would never succeed in any job but my manager's reassurance that I not only passed my probation but "absolutely smashed it" was validation of all the hard work I've done over that last few months and also perhaps that I'm not a dumb cunt, maybe I just needed the right job to flourish in. After work I spent a few hours on Google Maps going over the route I would need to take in order to get to the Spire without using motorways. Up until now I've been too scared to ride my bike there because it's an unfamiliar route that involves busy duel carriageways but whenever I get the bus to the Spire it often just turns up whenever the fuck it wants and I couldn't risk being late for this appointment. Most of the journey went by without a hitch but just as I got into Gateshead there was a long line of traffic. I'd neglected to factor in that with it being the run up to 5 o'clock there would be a shitload of people returning home from work. In addition to this the scenery wasn't looking familiar to me for some reason and I was convinced that I'd gone the wrong way. While I was sitting in a long line my phone started to ring which convinced me that it was now half 5 and the hospital was ringing me to ask me where the fuck I was. I was really pissed off, convinced that I'd fucked up but as I continued further down the line I started to recognize the roads and houses and was now re-assured that I had gone the right way after all. I think because I normally screw things up somehow whenever I've got somewhere important to be my brain must have seen everything seemingly going according to plan and thought "Nah this cant be right, you must have fucked up somewhere. This is YOU we're talking about after all". I got to the hospital at 5:25 and it turned out it was my sister ringing me not the hospital staff. I had gone into panic mode all for nothing and had actually arrived five minutes before my appointment. The amount of times I'd gone over the route should have reassured me that I was on the right path but for some reason I allowed my paranoia to take over like I always to when I need to be somewhere. There was a bit of a wait but that was fine by me as I was just happy I'd gotten here and I was now even more reassured that even if I had been a bit late the appointments were pushed back anyway so I wouldn't have missed mine. Instead of playing on my phone I decided to try a bit of eavesdropping and hoping pick up something amusing or interesting the other patients were saying. Sadly though they were all a bunch of boring cunts who didn't say anything juicy. Although there is the possibility that all the people in that waiting room also had their own blogs and were likewise intending on eavesdropping in order to write about it too. In future if I'm planning on eavesdropping but no-one else in the room is doing or saying anything I should just let out a minging fart just so the other people can write in their blogs "And then this freaky looking guy in a biker jacket let out the worst fart I've ever smelled in my life". I eventually got called in to see the doc who did my surgery a year and a half ago. As you would expect he has forgotten all about me because he has probably done hundreds of operations since then so I had to jog his memory. I told him that although I only felt mild discomfort for the first year after the operation, in the last six months or so the pain has started to return which has me worried that I may have herniated yet another disc. I was expecting the guy to refer me to physio yet again but surprisingly he said that he would refer me for an MRI scan to take place sometime before the end of the month. What a legend this guy is. Not only did he potentially save me from paralysis but also he, like me, has realized that the physio guys are a bunch of useless cunts and with neck pain it's better to just cut out the middleman and go straight to MRI. Obviously I'm hoping that I don't have another herniated disc and the doc will be able to tell me what exactly is causing so much discomfort in my spine and will be able to sort it out.

[suddenlysackler]

Nice to Meet You

How you met each of the boys

Adam Sackler

Adam hit you with his bike

He promises he didn’t see you stepping off of the curb but you think he did it on purpose 

He can’t help but laugh at how dazed you look at his feet, once the initial “oh fuck I hurt someone” wore off

And you were pissed about it 

Scrambling to your feet and screaming and yelling at him, poking his chest and calling him every insult you knew

He’s still laughing because, fuck, you’re fucking adorable

No, you’re stunning

About two minutes into your raving and ranting and his laughing at the absurdity of it all because it was and accident and he did apologize, he notices the scrapes on your arms and knees

Insists that you let him take you to his place to clean you up because it’s not more than a two minute walk and you could yell at him more on the way and he promises he isn’t a weirdo (HA)

And despite your better judgement, you follow him with your tail between your legs, feeling so bad because you’d just chewed out this guy who doesn’t seem like a total asshole 

The ten minutes it should have taken him to clean you up turns into almost five hours perched on his kitchen counter while he sits just below your feet where he had ended up after swiping antibiotic ointment over the last of your scrapes

You just talk, you don’t know how it happens but he’s candid and so fucking easy to talk to, it’s like talking to an old friend

When you see the time you curse and say you’ve gotta get going

He rolls his eyes and tells you to stay

When you ask if his girlfriend will be pissed if you’re here when she gets home he shuts you up with a kiss

After he pulls back he wonders out loud if he misread the room

You answer with a kiss of your own

Clyde Logan

You and Clyde meet through mutual friends

You and your own friends had trekked over to Duck Tape after a long day at work, needing something, anything to take the edge off

And, apparently, one of your friends knew one of Jimmy’s friends, the two hovering around the bar while Clyde worked

You saddled up next to one of your friends, sort of off to the side of the action, and rested your elbows on the bar

Introductions are hastily made between your two smaller groups and Jimmy’s friend mentions Clyde’s name and you almost convulse right there when you catch a glimpse of gentle eyes and just the hint of a smile tugging at pouty lips

Clyde got to you last and could have kicked himself for making you wait, my oh my you were beautiful and someone that beautiful shouldn’t be kept waiting

As he asks what you’ll have to drink, his drawl hits your ears sweeter than honey 

After he brings you back your drink, you bat your eyelashes, talk all soft and such, try just about everything to anchor his attention on you

You’re successful and Clyde swears he hasn’t talked with a customer that wasn’t family so much ever

Duck Tape easily becomes a staple in your week

So does Clyde

But despite your initial boldness in getting him to pay attention to you, you’re just as shy as Clyde is

Who makes the first move at Jimmy’s insistence 

Poor boy is so nervous he asks you to get drinks after he’s done for the evening

As if you weren’t sitting in a bar

So you ask him if he wouldn’t mind coming to your place so you could show him the different drinks you know how to make

When he asks what you know and you answer “I can crack you open a bottle of beer” he gives a hearty laugh

It’s the first time you hear it, the first time you see his breathtaking smile

And after that night, it most certainly wasn’t the last.

Daniel Jones

Dan and you get tasked with running internship programming in the Senate

It’s not exactly what you wanted this summer and you’re begrudgingly participating until your partner walks in all tall, dark and handsome in a nicely pressed suit 

He’s quiet until your supervisor suggests paying by stipend so the interns can be paid less than the minimum wage

Then he goes the fuck off

And shit if you weren’t sold on Dan now, that was the straw that broke the camel’s back

While you can’t necessarily straight out flirt, you slowly start taking lunch breaks with Dan

He’s really grateful for the company

You’re a welcomed interruption in his stream of consciousness while he works

A gentle reminder to eat and take care of himself

And you are more than capable of going toe to toe with him when your discussions get more heated

Dan really falls for you when the interns get there

He likes watching you work with them

You’re patient and willing to teach and explain everything

And when did you get that fucking beautiful

So he starts intentionally walking past your office

Strikes up conversations when he can and even starts figuring out where you’ll be at certain parts of the day (he swears it’s not creepy don’t judge)

At the end of the summer, you finally break and ask him out 

He kisses you right on the steps of the Capitol building when you do

The best yes you’ve ever received

Flip Zimmerman

Flip gives you a jump start after you get stranded in Colorado Springs

You’re driving cross country to meet your new niece between jobs and your car breaks down on one of those quiet country roads and you know the police department isn’t a tow company but you literally don’t know who to call

So you call the police 

And Flip happens to be one of the only people available to come jump you, given the fact that he’s between cases

So he grumbles and heads out to the closest landmark you had provided and just about loses it when he sees you

You’re so perfect, he hasn’t ever seen anyone as stunning as you 

When he gets out to jump your car he flirts, asks you questions and makes you laugh without trying 

And scrambles back to his car for a piece of paper to scribble his number down, leaving you with the promise of a phone call when you reach your destination

After three days and no word he feels dejected

And then the phone rings

It’s you, asking for an Officer Zimmerman 

Honestly? Flip is over the moon and hangs on your every word through the receiver

He asks you to stop by and let him take you on a date on your way back home and you gladly accept and, ultimately, take a permanent detour in Colorado Springs

Ronnie Peterson

Ronnie and you meet after you both argue over the last copy of a new book on it’s first day on shelves

Honestly it’s a bit comical how the two of you go at it 

It’s like watching two middle schoolers

Finally, you two compromise

Split the cost, take turns reading it because neither of you are interested in waiting to read it 

So you buy it and develop a stupid little schedule for you two to read it within the first couple of weeks of buying it

Your little trade offs turn into little book club meetings

Until Ronnie finally asks you to actually get coffee and sit down and discuss it 

When you agree and you’re sitting under the warm lighting of the coffee shop, Ronnie is taken aback at how gorgeous you are

And is pissed that he missed it because he was so obsessed with the stupid fucking book

But absolutely doesn’t regret that your argument had gotten him your number and what seemed to be at least a blossoming acquaintanceship

On the other side of the table, you’re just as taken with Ronnie

And your heart almost bursts when his glasses fog up from his hot drink

So you take a chance and ask if he’d want to see the movie adaptation of the book with you when it came out in a few weeks

He immediately says yes

Even asks if it’s a date

Kicks himself again when you turn bright red because, yeah, you want it to be a fucking date

Needless to say you keep getting coffee in the weeks to come and get to know each other even more

And he kisses you for the first time outside the movie theater

He takes you back to the car early, maybe like half way through the movie

He wants to make out

You want to make out

The movie sucked anyway

Paterson

You accidentally get on Paterson’s bus on your first day commuting to your job by public transportation after your car breaks down 

Pat smiles when you pay your fare, fingers twitching as his mind swirled with the tomes of paper he could fill with prose about your eyes 

He won’t lie, he was more than a little concerned when the bus approached the last stop on the route and you were still in your seat

His concern only heightened when he noticed the tears streaking down your cheeks

And yeah, he’s more of an observer, but he can’t help himself as his feet carry him back to sit next to you after letting the last of the passengers out and pulling over

You explain that you had taken the wrong bus and were now over an hour late to your job as a professor at Columbia 

He m e l t s 

Tells you oh so softly what bus you actually need to get on and even tells you where his route connects with that route 

Fuck he even offers you cab money he feels so awful that you’re late to work

You decline but smile at how sweet he is and even move to stand and hold on to the pole closest to him and chat over the thirty minutes it takes you to get to the right stop

You thank him profusely as you step off and Pat drives away, knowing that he’ll be writing about you at lunch, that much is inevitable

Two days later you get on his bus again and he raises his eyebrows skeptically

You give him a scrap of paper and a smile before moving to the back and sitting down, getting off at the same stop he had shown you before

He looks at the paper at lunch and could have passed out at your number and a request for a thank you cup of coffee, which he gladly accepts

Charlie Barber

You meet Charlie at a Broadway Cares/Equity Fights Aids volunteer meeting

You run in late with a latte in your hand and plop down right next to him, hair windswept, cheeks pink, and smelling like coffee beans

Literally, Charlie thinks a piece of heaven just sat down next to him

You apologize to him for the interruption, double taking when you see how handsome the man next to you is

And for the next hour, you two nudge each other and make jokes under your breath

You get assigned to the same site for the next fundraising effort just by chance

And while you get to know the other four people in your group, you and Charlie stay stuck to each other like glue

Even though there are plenty of people you both know through work 

You had just kind of clicked

And at the end, you find yourself lingering in the small auditorium the meeting was held in

Neither of you really wanting to split although you’d see each other again soon

So Charlie takes a chance and asks if you’d want another latte

His palms are sweating because he literally hasn’t asked someone out in years

That’s what this was right?

But you say yes and let him pay for your second latte

And hold his hand

“It’s cold and you don’t have pockets on your sweater or gloves”

He walks you home even, laughing when you tell him where your building is and remarking that his building is two blocks away

You give him your number anyway, mumbling something about not wanting rocks thrown at your window at 3:00am

And he hugs you so tight before you head upstairs

It’s the tightest hug you’ve ever gotten

[pototters]

Without You

A/N: HEY, OMG, I’M BACK!!

Okay, so, I may have plunged myself into the pit of KiriBaku/BakuKiri and now I’m stuck there. Literally, nearly every idea I have lately is for this ship. I love them. Might be a little obsessed, but hey, I’m happy here.

I fell into quite the writing rut and found it difficult for me to write literally anything. The focus wasn’t there, the inspiration was lacking, and so I wrote the first thing that came to mind and forced myself to follow it.

Thus, this fic was born. THE LONGEST THING I’VE EVER WRITTEN HERE. Except my old collab fic, Strawberry and Cream, but I don’t really count that one. I wrote this piece like an effing madman, tell you what. I think now I’ve kinda gotten through my block, writing will happen a bit easier going forward. I hope.

Anywho, without further ado, here’s the fic~

Summary: Bakugo goes on a mountain hike and realizes that something rather important is missing.

Warnings: it’s Bakugo, there’s swearing.

Bakugo x Kirishima

Words: 4,477

Something was wrong.

Bakugo zipped up his backpack angrily, the last of what he’d need all packed up. Tugging on his hiking boots, he threw the pack over his shoulders and headed out. It was the weekend, and pretty early in the morning, so the dorms were pretty quiet.

He paused in the hallway, but forced himself not to turn down the hall. His back practically burned with the thought of the neighboring rooms, but he gave an annoyed grunt before heading down the stairs. Luckily, no one was in the commons to bother him as he made his way out. He was already in a foul mood and didn’t need anyone to further aggravate him.

Something was wrong.

The walk to the bus stop was short and the wait was even shorter. Just before he could board, there was a shout from down the sidewalk to hold the bus. Bakugo glanced in the direction of the voice, saw a flash of red, and his heart picked up to race furiously within his chest. A second look, however, revealed a stranger wearing a red bandanna and he grunted to himself as he finished boarding the bus.

The ride to the base of the mountain was barely half an hour, then it was a ten minute walk to the start of the trail. Hitching his pack into place on his shoulders, Bakugo began the ascent. He’d been planning this hike for well over a month. It was overdue and the fresh air helped to clear his head. Already, he could feel his stress levels decline the higher he climbed.

He’d been hiking without pause for nearly two hours when he heard a grumbling complaint and dragging footsteps behind him. His ire raised, he turned around to tell the complainer off, but his voice caught in his throat. There was no one there.

Something was wrong.

By midday, the temperature had risen significantly, but the thinning mountain air helped to keep Bakugo from overheating. As he walked, tiny explosions crackled in his palms as he burnt off the excess sweat to prevent any accidents. He understood too well the dangers of his quirk and wasn’t interested in taking any unnecessary risks.

His stomach growled at some point, so he looked for a good spot to stop and sit down for his lunch. A fallen tree served as a place for him to sit as he took off his backpack and dug inside. Pulling out a sandwich, he held it out, but no one took it. He lifted his gaze to glare at his arm as though the muscle memory had offended him, which it most definitely had. He had become much too used to having company.

As he peered within his pack, Bakugo quickly realized that he had packed way too much food. Enough for two people, plus a bit extra. He heaved a sigh, resigning that he’d be taking some home and unwrapped the sandwich for himself. After finishing the sandwich, he gave himself some time to let his food settle before hitting the trail, again.

Something was wrong.

It wasn’t until Bakugo had nearly reached the peak when he thought he heard the sound of a joyous laugh and thought he felt the brush of a shoulder against his own, that he realized what it was. Growing up, he’d always considered himself as independent and introverted. He didn’t need anyone except himself. Over the past couple of years at U.A., however, something had changed. He was barely aware of it happening, but as he stood on top of the mountain all by himself, it was more than the view that was put into clear perspective.

Kirishima was supposed to be with him on this trip. They had planned it out together, albeit somewhat reluctantly on Bakugo’s part. He wasn’t reluctant because he didn’t want to go with his best friend. It was rather out of sheer stubbornness that he would rather go alone. Bakugo had pretended to cave even though he knew from the start that he would agree to the trip. He loved hiking and it wouldn’t be so bad to share that with his best friend.

Best friend; it was a term that had held an odd weight since the end of their first year. Bakugo felt as though it wasn’t an accurate description of what Kirishima was to him. He had never been able to work it out, though, a part of him a bit too nervous to look too closely at it. So, he ignored the part of his heart that flipped at Kirishima’s shark-toothed grin and the easy way in which they touched so casually.

A week ago, however, Bakugo had happened to walk in on Kirishima talking to Sero in the locker room after class. The redhead had said something about finally confessing his feelings at the top of the mountain they were hiking. Rage had filled him as he rounded the corner, seeing the color drain from Kirishima’s face as panic rose to the redhead’s features.

Bakugo had screamed a multitude of obscenities at him. He couldn’t remember all of them, but none of them had been nice. Most of them hadn’t even been true. He definitely remembered telling Kirishima that romance was for idiots with nothing better to do and that he couldn’t be the number one hero if he wasn’t giving it his all. He also remembered saying something along the lines of barely being able to tolerate the idiot’s presence.

A flash of hurt had crossed Kirishima’s face by that point, only to turn into anger as Bakugo kept going, yelling something about how he’d be better off without some fucking extra following at his heels all the time. Angry tears had sprung to Kirishima’s eyes as he’d shoved against Bakugo’s chest and pushed him away.

More angry words were exchanged between the two of them before Kirishima finally stormed out, red-faced and barely holding back tears. Sero said nothing before following the redhead out, leaving Bakugo to seethe in his own anger. He wasn’t even sure why he was really all that pissed off about it.

Breathing in the mountain air, Bakugo reflected on his anger and slowly came to an understanding. Hearing Kirishima’s accidental confession forced Bakugo to look closer at his own feelings. Feelings that he wasn’t ready to analyze that thoroughly, yet. His chest tightened as he looked up to the clear, afternoon sky. The answer was so glaringly obvious that he couldn’t ignore it or cover it with his anger, anymore.

Fuck. He really owed Kirishima an apology. Several apologies. That idiot. His idiot. A frustrated grin spread across his face as he realized he had no idea how to even go about it. He knew, though, that it couldn’t wait, not even another day for his trip to end.

After making sure his pack was secured tightly, sparks flew from his palms as he turned them downwards and propelled himself into the sky. He’d probably get his ass chewed out if his teachers got wind of him using his quirk like this, but fuck it. Bakugo blasted himself to the bottom of the mountain in a matter of minutes to catch the last bus back to U.A..

It was already dark by the time he burst into the commons, panting from running so hard. Everyone was gathered for a game night and several eyes turned to stare at him as he stomped forward. All of them except the only ones that matter. “Hey, Bakugo, weren’t you supposed to be camping this weekend?” He ignored the question as Kirishima finally, slowly, turned to face him.

There was no familiar smile to greet him, no emotion at all as Kirishima leveled Bakugo with a flat look. Bakugo grit his teeth, refusing to back down from the redhead’s expression. His brows drew low over his eyes as he bit out, “I need to talk to you. Now.” Kirishima’s mouth pressed into a hard line and he turned back around.

“No.”

Bakugo saw the telltale blur of rage around the edges of his sight, but he deflated almost immediately. What did he expect, honestly? He’d said horrible things and then ignored Kirishima for the past week. He wouldn’t want to talk to him, either.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he forced his gaze away from the back of Kirishima’s head and huffed with frustration. “Fine.” He shuffled from the commons and punched the button on the elevator, feeling the shocked expressions of their classmates on his back.

Unfamiliar emotions had welled within his chest at Kirishima’s rejection as he rode the elevator. He wondered if this was anything like what the redhead had felt when Bakugo had yelled at him. Fuck, he really was awful if this was even a fraction of what Kirishima had felt. The tightness in his chest was nearly unbearable.

Once in his room, he discarded his backpack and stripped down. He was sweaty and dirty from his hike and he needed a shower. Hopefully, while he got clean, he’d be able to think of some way to get Kirishima to talk to him. His shower was quick, though, and he hadn’t come up with a single idea. It was clear that he really wasn’t made for all this emotional shit, which only served to piss him off.

Wearing clean clothes, he scrubbed his hair dry with a towel as he made his way back to his room. Distracted as he was, Bakugo couldn’t react quickly enough as a pair of hands grabbed him suddenly and pushed him into his room, snapping the door shut behind them. His breath left him in a rush as he was shoved back against the door and angry red eyes met his own.

“Kirishima, what the fu-” Bakugo was cut off as Kirishima’s fist slammed against the door next to his head. Silence stretched between them for a moment as they both breathed heavily.

“You know, for someone who’s constantly calling me an idiot, you can be pretty stupid.” Kirishima finally spoke. Bakugo should have been pissed at that, but he couldn’t bring himself to get even a little mad. All he could do was give Kirishima a hard stare, no heat in his gaze.

“Yeah, I know. I said some pretty shitty things to you. I shouldn’t have. I… didn’t really mean what I said.” Kirishima’s eyes widened at the half apology, then a small smile turned up the corners of his mouth, much to Bakugo’s surprise.

“If I really thought you meant any of that, then I never knew you at all.” Bakugo felt like the air had been punched from his lungs as relief washed over him. Of course, Kirishima knew. Kirishima always knew him better than anyone else. With a shaky hand, Bakugo reached out to grab a fistful of Kirishima’s shirt and nodded, lowering his gaze as he suddenly felt weak in the knees. “That doesn’t mean you don’t have to apologize, though, you jerk.”

Bakugo’s head snapped up to face the redhead, again, his fist in the fabric tightening. “Kirishima-”

“Eijirou. Call me by my first name.”

Bakugo blinked, caught somewhat off guard, and he felt his heart speed up rapidly in his chest. A small frown etched onto his face, heat rising in his cheeks. “I- Eijiro, I’m sorry. For all the things I said and didn’t mean. I wasn’t angry at you, not really.” His other hand rose to join the one clutching Kirishima’s shirt, grabbing another fistful of fabric and tugging the redhead closer.

“I know. I forgive you.” Kirishima let himself be pulled closer, leaning into Bakugo until their mouths met in a hesitant kiss. It lasted barely a second before Kirishima was pulling back, looking unsure. “Does this mean… that you accept my feelings? I- I don’t want to burden you, Bakugo.”

Bakugo rolled his eyes. “Idiot. If I’m calling you by your first name, then you’re calling me by mine, too.” His features softened as he pulled Kirishima back to him. “Don’t make me fucking spell it out for you.” Bakugo tugged him back in the rest of the way, kissing him with more confidence. Kirishima let out a soft whimper as their tongues mingled together and Bakugo released his shirt in favor of wrapping his arms around his best friend.

Except Kirishima wasn’t his best friend, he was so much more than that. Bakugo felt as though an empty slot had suddenly filled within himself as Kirishima returned the embrace. The wrong had been righted and a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Finally, breathless from their kisses, they broke apart and grins spread across their faces. Kirishima looked a bit sheepish while Bakugo wore a shit-eating grin. They sat down together on the floor and decided to talk about how they’d handle their new relationship. Many of their friends were already aware of how Kirishima felt, but it was anyone’s guess whether Bakugo actually returned those feelings.

Bakugo didn’t care what anyone thought, but Kirishima was still somewhat hesitant to make their relationship known. After some discussion, they decided the dorms were safe enough to be open, but they wouldn’t engage in any affection at school. They mutually agreed that it was best to appear professional or they could risk expulsion. Their discussion turned to lighter topics after that, and more making out, as they talked late into the night until they both fell asleep on the floor.

Bakugo woke up first the next morning, grumbling over his sore back as he sat up. All complaints were forgotten, however, as his gaze fell on his best- no, his boyfriend’s sleeping face. A soft smile graced his features as he thought that the new term fit Kirishima better than ‘best friend’ ever had. Reaching out, he brushed a bit of flat red hair from his face before catching himself and blushing hard. Thank goodness Kirishima slept like a fucking rock.

Getting up, he grabbed his pillow and propped it under Kirishima’s head and threw a blanket over him before heading downstairs to the kitchen to cook breakfast. While he cooked, Kaminari and Sero walked into the kitchen stretching and yawning. At the sight of Bakugo, Kaminari got a devious grin on his face.

“Isn’t that so sweet, Sero? Bakugo is making breakfast for his new boyfriend. Damn, one night and Kirishima’s already got him domesticated.” Bakugo’s hand froze over the stove at Kaminari’s words before slowly turning to him with a hard glare.

“Hah? The fuck did you just say, dunce face? Pretty early to be wishing to get your ass blasted to smithereens.” Bakugo growled, his hand popping with sparks as he aimed it towards Kaminari. Sero stepped between them, hands raised as he tried to placate their explosive friend.

“C’mon, Bakugo, he’s just teasing. Like you said, it’s too early for this.” Kaminari didn’t back down, though.

“Yeah, Bakugo, come on. Just spill the deets! I know Kirishima didn’t go back to his room last night~” Kaminari barely had time to gloat before Bakugo was in his face with an explosion.

“You fucking pervert! I’ll kill you!” Bakugo knew he was red in the face, which didn’t help his case, but he didn’t have long to chase the idiot around the kitchen as Kirishima showed up. Yawning and scratching the back of his neck, Kirishima took in the scene before him with a frown.

“Seriously, you guys? Can you not rile him up this early in the morning? I’m not awake enough to keep him from actually hurting you.” Bakugo seethed, ready to bark back at the redhead for thinking he could stop him, anyway, but a heavy weight pressed against his back as Kirishima draped his arms over his shoulders from behind. Bakugo nearly staggered under the unexpected weight as Kirishima tiredly leaned onto him.

“Stand on your own, idiot! How am I supposed to cook with you hanging on me like this?!” Bakugo growled as Kirishima pouted. Even so, Kirishima’s weight lessened, but he kept his arms draped over Bakugo’s shoulders. Bakugo felt a slight shiver pass down his spine as Kirishima’s face pressed against the side of his neck to watch him cook. “Seriously? I’m not going to cook for you if you keep this up.”

“But I’m tired, Katsuki, and the food smells good.” The pout in Kirishima’s voice was heavy as more of his weight settled onto Bakugo’s back, again.

“Then lean on the fucking counter!” Bakugo growled, shrugging his shoulders lightly in a lame attempt to get Kirishima off of him. He felt a flush crawling up his neck to his face as he realized he could actually feel Kirishima’s pout against his skin. It also didn’t help that he knew that Kaminari and Sero were staring at them. He ducked his head and lowered his voice. “The eggs are gonna burn.”

With a heavy sigh, Kirishima straightened himself and practically rolled his body away from Bakugo to lean on the counter right next to the stove. Bakugo frowned as Kirishima folded his arms on top of the counter and rested his head on top of them to watch him cook with a wide yawn. His ungelled hair fell softly to frame his face and Bakugo couldn’t help but think that it was cute.

Reaching over, he gently pushed some of the red hair back from Kirishima’s face, stroking his cheek a little as he did. “You shouldn’t lean next to the hot stove like that, idiot.” Kirishima only grinned back at him, not budging an inch.

“That’s okay. I can handle the heat.” He snickered as Bakugo’s jaw dropped and his face nearly went atomic.

“You guys sure nothing happened last night? I mean, no one would blame you…” Kaminari’s voice came from behind them where he and Sero had taken a seat at the kitchen island. Kirishima lifted his head to shoot him a disapproving frown.

“Kaminari, that’s-”

Kirishima was quickly cut off as sparks flew from Bakugo’s palm in Kaminari’s direction. “None of your fucking business, dunce face! So shut the hell up about it!” Kaminari lifted his hands in surrender.

“Okay, okay! I’ll drop it, sheesh!” Kaminari rolled his eyes, slumping to rest his chin in his hand on the counter. “Damn, to think Bakugo would lose it, first. Didn’t see that one coming.” Sero glanced over at Bakugo nervously, who was now shaking with anger.

Kirishima placed a hand on Bakugo’s shoulder and squeezed gently before turning a deep frown on Kaminari. “Dude, not cool. Seriously, though, nothing happened. We just had a really long talk, okay?” Bakugo lightly shrugged off Kirishima’s hand so that he could plate their breakfast.

Kaminari huffed. “Okay. I’ll take your word for it, then.” His eyes immediately lit up, however, as Bakugo nearly slammed an omelette in front of him. “Oh, nice, a rice omelette! What’s the occasion?” Another one was set in front of Sero, who gave his thanks to the chef.

Kirishima was given two omelettes and Bakugo took one for himself before heading to the commons to eat, yelling something about how Kaminari didn’t even deserve one. Kirishima beamed as he began to follow Bakugo. “They’re my favorite breakfast,” he told Kaminari as he slipped from the kitchen.

As the two of them ate together, they found themselves falling back into their normal, easy companionship. Kirishima chatted between bites at times while Bakugo would answer occasionally in his short, gruff way. The only difference was their thighs pressed together and the soft smiles that passed between them in the silence while they chewed.

Just as they had finished eating, standing up to clean their dishes, Aizawa came into the dorms. “Bakugo. I need you to come with me to my office. I got a complaint about the misuse of quirks outside of the school.” Bakugo let out an annoyed ‘tsk’, but didn’t argue. Kirishima took his plate from him with a worried expression. Without a word of reassurance, Bakugo turned to follow their teacher, hands shoved into his pockets, and left the cleaning up to the redhead.

It was nearly lunch by the time Bakugo returned to the dorms and most of their class was gathered in the commons, including Kirishima. His entrance had gone unnoticed and Bakugo paused behind the couch, staring at the back of Kirishima’s head with a small frown. His gaze traced the soft strands of red hair and the way that it rested against the curve of Kirishima’s neck, admiring how it moved subtly with every movement of his head.

With sudden realization, Bakugo found that it was all familiar to him, but he’d never really taken the time to appreciate the view. His boyfriend was manly, sure, but he was also damn gorgeous. As though driven by some unknown force, Bakugo approached Kirishima from behind and wrapped his arms around him.

Kirishima went completely still, rigid with surprise as Bakugo pressed an open mouthed kiss against his jaw, just below the ear. “Go get dressed.” He whispered huskily into Kirishima’s ear. “I’m gonna shower and then we’re going on a date.” Bakugo grinned, ignoring the stares of their classmates as Kirishima’s skin darkened to match his hair color. Without waiting for an answer, Bakugo straightened and headed for the showers.

Twenty minutes later, they met in the foyer. When Bakugo came down in his jeans and a black button down with the top two buttons undone, he came up short as his breath left him at the sight of Kirishima. The redhead had finally spiked up his hair and was speaking casually with Pink Cheeks. With jeans that hugged him in all the right places and his favorite Crimson Riot t-shirt that stretched across his broad chest, Kirishima was drool-worthy in his leather jacket.

He didn’t have enough time to catch his breath as he approached Kirishima. A curt look was all it took to shut up Uraraka and send her on her way as she turned even pinker. Kirishima turned towards Bakugo and blushed brightly, reaching up to rub the back of his own neck nervously.

“You, um, you look nice, Katsuki.” Kirishima shot him a nervous smile that Bakugo returned in confidence.

“Of course, I do. You look fucking hot, though.” Bakugo snickered as Kirishima’s blush deepened while his jaw nearly dropped to the floor. The redhead immediately became too flustered at the unexpected compliment to do anything but stand there in a mild panic, so Bakugo shoved him out the door. “C’mon. I’m fucking starving. You can gay panic later, idiot.”

This seemed to snap Kirishima out of it as his steps turned from barely a shuffle to full strides. “I wasn’t- I- You never say stuff like that! How am I supposed to react?!” Bakugo barked out a laugh at that.

“You say ‘thank you’ and move the fuck on.” Kirishima pouted a little, but still muttered his thanks as the two of them left school grounds for the nearby shopping district. Bakugo led them to one of his favorite places to eat where Kirishima could get a meat dish and he could still get himself something that was plenty spicy to suit his own tastes.

While they waited for their food, Kirishima asked about what happened with Aizawa and Bakugo explained how he’d used his quirk to blast himself down the mountainside. Kirishima laughed, delighted that he was important enough to risk getting in trouble for. Bakugo shrugged it off, though. 

He’d barely gotten a slap on the wrist since there was minimal damage to the environment. Just some minor scorch marks on the ground where he’d launched himself and a few near where he landed. Bakugo explained the reason he’d taken so long was because, as punishment, Aizawa had made him run laps and do fifty push ups between each one. This made Kirishima cringe slightly as he expressed his sympathy, but Bakugo shrugged that off as well.

After they’d eaten, they decided to take a walk around the district and look at the different shops as they strolled by. Kirishima spoke excitedly about a few of the shops, Bakugo quietly giving special attention to the things the redhead expressed interest in. After a while, though, Kirishima fell silent.

A block and a half later, when Kirishima still hadn’t spoken, Bakugo glanced over to see him plucking nervously at his jacket. Letting out a huff, he bumped his shoulder against the redhead’s to get his attention. “Spit it out, Ei. What’s on your mind?” Kirishima spluttered a bit at the nickname, his steps slowing until he finally stopped. Bakugo stopped a couple steps ahead, turning around to wait patiently for Kirishima to say what was on his mind.

“Eijirou.” Kirishima’s gaze snapped up at Bakugo calling his name, his arms pressing against his sides as he stopped fidgeting with his jacket.

“Sorry, um, it’s just…,” Kirishima hesitated, “I know we’re on a date, right now. It’s just that… you haven’t actually said how you feel. We didn’t bring it up, really, when we talked about our relationship last night. I feel like I’ve just been assuming and that maybe you’re humoring me so that we can just be friends, again.” Bakugo blinked at him as a long silence stretched between them.

“Are you fucking stupid?” Kirishima flinched at Bakugo’s harsh words, then ducked his head as his face flushed. Bakugo crossed the distance between them and grabbed a fistful of Kirishima’s shirt, nearly snarling. “What did you say yesterday about knowing me? Tell me, would I go to the trouble if we were just going to be friends? What part of our friendship made you think that I was a liar?” Kirishima’s gaze snapped up to Bakugo’s in a panic.

Firm hands met the fist on Kirishima’s shirt. “No! No, that’s not what I meant! I’m sorry, I’m not always good with my words. I just… It’s just that you’re acting so differently than you usually do and, and I’m so surprised. I really thought you were going to turn me down.” Bakugo eased his hold on Kirishima’s shirt, finally letting go as he stepped back and glanced away.

“Oh. That.” Bakugo chewed his bottom lip between his teeth, trying to figure out what to say. “I’m not good at this whole… feeling thing, but…,” His gaze lifted to meet Kirishima’s, “Up on that mountain, I realized a lot of things. You were supposed to be there with me, and you weren’t. It felt wrong, and it just- it wasn’t the same without you.” He barely got the words out before strong arms were embracing him and Bakugo closed his eyes, finally feeling as though everything was right as he hugged Kirishima back.

[harringtonstudios]

teenage dirtbag. (part II)

plot: somehow, you’re going on a date with your co-worker. part 1!

masterlist!

A/N: i’m sorry this has taken forever! school’s been taking a lot out of me, but i miss you guys soooo :) lmk how it was loves.

taglist: @iamdorka @no-shxt-sherl @bakerkells @findingmyths​ @rosegoldrichie​ @mayaslifeinabox​ @itjustkindahappenedreally​ @hnbtx​ @backoftheroomandnotbelonging

Closing never seemed to go by so fast. The minute the clock hit 10pm, Colson had walked over, locking the front door. Ensuring that no other customers were coming in, you both had broken down the responsibilities into two lists. You dealt with the back of the counter, covering all the food, stocking the pantry, and putting away any excess. He straightened up the front, cleaning up the slightly sticky tables and locking up the cash register. 

Within twenty minutes, both of you were done. Pulling on your coat, you had called up your friend again, letting her know you didn’t need a ride. Usually, on closing shifts, she would pick you up, not too keen on letting you take the bus that late at night. On the phone, she teased you a little, and you laughed it off, trying to undermine the concept of a date, so you wouldn’t freak yourself out. 

Dates were nerve-wracking on their own, and you didn’t need your brain to mess this up for you. It’d only been a few hours, but you had already gone through a series of thoughts that had left you a little more on edge than usual. The first one being that you and Colson were scheduled to work together for the rest of the month. If something went wrong, it would fuck up the entire dynamic and you had let that thought simmer until there was an anxious pit growing in your belly. 

-

“Y/N, I’m gonna piss and then we out?” Colson shouted from down the hall. You nodded over at him, grabbing your purse from the hook. Leaving the back room, you went to go sit out on a table, fingers anxiously tapping on the blue tabletop. 

A few seconds later Colson came out, wiping his palms on his sweatpants. You tracked his movement before looking away, cheeks flush at the idea of him catching you staring at him. He passed in front of you and you got up, following him out of the store.

Throwing you the keys, he grinned. Rolling your eyes, you locked up the door, making sure that it was fully closed. A couple of shifts ago, someone had left the door unlocked and your manager had a conniption over it. Passing the keys back, you reached into your purse, pulling out a stick of gum and pushing it into your mouth. 

“So whaddya wanna do?” Colson asked, walking backwards, skateboard tucked under his arm. 

“I don’t know, I thought you had something in mind,” you replied, watching him casually walk backwards towards the mall’s exit. 

“Nah,” he mumbled out before stumbling a little. You reached out, grabbing his shoulders, laughing just a little. 

“Shut up,” he laughed, turning around to walk the normal way. Reaching the exit, you waited for him to walk towards his car. Pulling on the handle, he unlocked the doors. 

Throwing his skateboard in the backseat, he pushed open your door from inside, smiling up at you. Getting in, you grinned over at him as the engine rumbled to life. Putting an arm behind you on the headrest, he pulled out of the parking space. 

You snapped on your seatbelt before fiddling with the radio, laughing as the station started playing your type of songs. As Colson drove out of the parking lot, you started singing along to the words, dancing a little in your seat. 

He laughed at your enthusiasm as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, driving down the empty road. You knew the area around pretty well, having loitered around these very streets but within a few minutes, he was turning down the side of a road you hadn’t been on before. 

Shifting in your seat, you moved closer to the window. Glass fogging up slightly as you let out a breath, you brought up your hand to draw a little smiley face. Turning back towards the driver's seat, you mumbled out, “So where are we going?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he responded, eyes leaving the street to look over at you. You let your head fall back against the headrest, sighing just a little. 

You let the music flow in between the two of you, falling into the energy of the beats. A minute or two later, he pulled into an abandoned parking lot, cutting off the ignition. 

-

All of a sudden, it’s too quiet. You know Colson, have worked with him for a while, but for some reason, this seems kinda off.

You turn swiftly to look at him, a little concern building in your chest before saying, “You didn’t bring me out here to kill me right?”

He snorts a little, then catches the fear building in your eyes and immediately backtracks. “No. There’s a skatepark back there, food truck that runs all night long. Thought we could get tacos?”

Your hand is on the handle of the door, fingers antsily gripping on the rubber. Moonlight shines through the windshield, illuminating his features, the curve of his lip, the softness of his hair, the calmness in his eyes. 

You let go of the handle, move into his space. Watch as he leans in closer, until you two are inches apart, stick shift the only thing separating you. 

“You okay?” he mumbles, looking down at you. 

“Yeah,” you let out before pushing up on your hands, reaching your mouth to his. 

His lips meet yours and it’s better than you expected. You’d been waiting all day for this moment, and you feel yourself smile as he softly pushes into it. Breaking off, you slump in the passenger seat, feeling a giddy smile break across your face.

He laughs looking at you covering your face as you giggle. 

“C’mon, I’m starving,” he mutters, hand moving your fingers and gripping your chin as he pecks your lips. 

“Tacos here we go,” you mumble, kissing him again. 

“The door,” he mutters, letting his lips touch yours. 

“You first,” you whisper, running a finger down his jaw, throwing in another kiss. 

He belly-laughs, and you feel it vibrate through his body. A second later, his heat is gone, wind whipping in the car as he opens his door, grabbing his skateboard from behind. You huff a little, before opening your own and stepping out into the empty night. 

-

The skate park is surprisingly full. There’s people sitting on benches, chatter lighting up the area around you as Colson leads the way to the food truck. There’s a line, and you both stand at the end, shuffling as the cold air hits you. 

“Cold?” he asks, unzipping his jacket. 

“Kinda. I’m good though,” you respond, reaching over to zip his jacket back up. 

He snorts before opening it up again, and then wraps himself around you. His arms cross over your waist, and he rests his chin on the top of your head, leaning into you. 

The line moves fast and before you know it, the two of you are waddling to the front, still together. Glancing at the menu, you realize there’s only two options, written on a chalkboard. Before you can really figure out what you want, Colson’s moving off of you closer to the window. 

“Two specials please,” he grins, reaching down to grab two Coronas. You grab one from him, putting it back just to replace it with water. Someone’s gonna have to drive you back home anyways. In that split second, he pays for the food, ushering you to the other side of the truck. 

“Hey, no! I was gonna pay,” you complain, as he pulls you back into the same position as before.  

“I asked you out, so I pay,” he responds simply, chin moving on top of your head. You smiled at that, turning slightly to look up at him before saying, “So next time, I got us.” 

He smirks a little before repeating, ”Next time?”

“Yep,” you respond, turning back around before either of you can change your mind. This feels right. A long day of working with him, waiting here for tacos just feels so right somehow. 

Your order comes in and then the both of you are holding two full plates of good-looking food. He walks over to the quarter pipe structure, hesitating for a second before motioning to you. 

“We’re gonna sit up there,” he declares, hand already reaching up to the ladder attached. You wince just a little, wondering exactly how you’re going to balance your food while climbing up a ladder. As if he read your mind, he starts climbing, getting to the top fast, even a plate and his skateboard in his hands.

He comes back down, jumping the last few rungs before taking your plate from you. 

“M’lady,” he mumbles, tipping his head down as he hikes a foot back on the ladder. You let out a loud laugh, bringing a hand over your own mouth as he reaches the top again. 

“You coming up or am I eating all this by myself?” he shouts and you get a move on, carefully making your way up the ladder. 

-

There’s something different about the air when you’re sitting half-way above the ground, shoes dangling off the edge as skateboards wizz past a few feet away from you. It’s electric, buzzing deep in your skin, making you feel like you’re on top of the world. 

Colson’s next to you, shoes knocking against yours. His skateboard’s tucked under one of his arms, as he digs into his tacos. You’ve got your own food on your lap, but for some reason you don’t really want to eat, instead you just wanna watch the skaters do their thing. Eyes wandering, you look up at the night sky, catching the twinkle of a couple of stars. 

“Y/N, you good?” Colson mumbles out between bites. Bringing your attention back to him, you nod before laughing. 

“You got, uh a little something over there,” you motion at his chin, covered in slivers of lettuce. 

“Where?” he asks, hand already brushing at his face. 

“Yeah, you got it,” you murmur and then you’re leaning in, kissing his clean chin. 

Moving up just a little, you catch his lips with your own. Shifting, you turn your body towards him, forgetting about the food perched on your lap. Colson’s hand comes to your waist, keeping you steady as he pulls you closer, breaking the kiss only to start another one. 

There’s a second of peace and then you move your leg. The food goes flying off your lap, and you push off of Colson to reach for it, only to see it smash onto the cement below. 

“Fuck!” you shout into the wind and his grip on you tightens. 

“Come back here. You’re too close to the edge,” he mutters, tugging at you. 

“The tacos fell,” you pout, shuffling a bit back. Pulling in your legs, you cross them together, hands awkwardly feeling at the ground. 

“Here,” he hands you his plate, one taco preserved in there as he stands up.

“Where ya going?” you ask, confusion etched on your face. 

“Someone’s gonna fall off of that. I’ll clean it and come back. Stay here,” he says, wiping his palms on his sweatpants. Kicking up his skateboard, he walks to the edge, throwing you a wink before sliding down. 

Your eyes widen, and then you move to peer over and watch the way he casually stops himself in the middle of the pipe. Grabbing the plate, he scoops up the smushed food before stepping off the pipe on the ground. 

You move back, track him crossing over to the trash can. He gets on the skateboard again, and then he’s pushing himself up to the other side of the pipe, before barreling towards you. 

Within seconds, he’s back, cheeks a little flush. You smile up at him and he grins back, your heart skipping a beat as he licks at his lips. 

“Do that again,” you breathe out and he nods before turning back towards the edge. 

Watching him skate between the two edges, the way the light catches his skin, the smile on his face, you feel yourself wanting something you haven’t in a while. The air feels clearer somehow, and you look up at the sky once more, catching a star staring right back at you. Whispering out a wish, you let yourself get lost in the moment, tomorrow will come soon enough. ​

[j0hn-deacons-perm]

Bizarre Love Triangle

‘86 John x Reader, tail end of the Magic Tour. 

word count: ~3.7k

Based off Bizarre Love Triangle by New Order (I recommend listening to it while reading) also the song just slaps

Also a quick author’s note. Did I write this until about 6 AM because I couldn’t sleep? Yeah, my dudes. There might still be a few mistakes and will fix them when found but hey, I hope you enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~

Last show. The bloody last show of this summer. Tour life has been nothing but stressful but to your surprise, even more rewarding simply with the audience reception. Every show packed with fans, many singing and bopping about like you were on the side lines. Despite being there for nearly every show, the anticipation never ceases to creep up on you. Shivers can be felt in your bones, ready for whatever is to come and you're not even the one on stage in half an hour. 

Standing and grabbing drinks, you sit next to John. His knee bouncing as he reads the paper, spotting he's on the current events. Sighing gently, you roam your eyes around the space around you. Brian is tuning his guitar with Fred and Roger sitting next to him. You spot a scrabble board on the table and Roger looking frustrated as he picks letters from the box's top. Most people on your team are racing around, making sure everything is where it should be and in working order. Hearing a sound from John, you look over and watch him skip over the obituaries. However, seeing a name that surely sounds phallic encites a laugh on your end. He raises an eyebrow in your direction.

"Dark comedy your thing, eh?"

"More like potty humor. I see a name like Medick and it's reflex to chuckle."

He scans the page and you laugh again.

"Damn it John, you're looking at Medick."

You determine the laugh he gives you is one out of pity with how bad your Scottish accent was. After apologizing for assaulting his senses, he gives you a smile and asks the time. Looking at your watch, your co-worker announced to everyone the fifteen minute mark before they were expected on stage.

"I hope that answers your question."

His eyes crinkle around the corners and your heart melts at the sight. Answering you with "It does, yeah", he folds the paper up and places it on the empty seat next to him. Attention now on you.

"Any plans post tour Y/N?"

"Besides catch up on nearly a month of lost sleep and time with Tom, probably nothing for a few days. At least that's the hope."

You can see his face shift into a slight discomfort but it might be out of reflex. Two weeks in you began missing your boyfriend back home and requested no one bring him up in conversation, even yourself. Knowing you slipping his name must have been reflex for him. Right?

"Can't imagine what you'd be losing sleep over besides trying to keep track of four old ladies."

"You guys are a lot. Especially you, Deacon. I swear sometimes it's easier looking after a toddler."

He fakes hurt, hand on his chest and a pronounced distressed face paints his features. The rest of the time passes far too quickly for your liking as the boys are rushed off to play their show. You follow behind, overseeing things go smoothy. Grabbing things they may need between songs and making your way off to the side, you nearly jump as the rise in audience volume increases. The floor beneath you shaking as the first few notes play. Hearing the opening lines to One Vision, you calculate the time to sing along but with the lyrics you happened to hear when bringing them their copious amounts of coffee into the recording room. What you didn't expect is John looking over to see you sing 'one dump, one turd, two tits, John Deacon' followed by 'chicken feet, babe' in his direction. You can see him smile when he looks down at his bass.

As the songs pass, your dancing picks up as well as his. You thought John was called Disco Deacy due to his taste in tunes but turns out he's a regular Belle of the ball. His spins and hops always melted your heart, watching him enjoy the music and play. You bop along with him more often than not, enjoying the beats you've heard now countless amounts of times. When I Want To Break Free ends and Brian's solo begins, he heads over in your direction. Grabbing a towel and a vodka tonic, he pats himself dry while watching from your usual view.

"I swear, this solos get longer with every tour."

"And I swear your hair gets bigger with every tour."

"Optical illusion, my dear. Brian's been getting smaller."

He winks and finishes off his drink. His company is gone as quick as it came, or at least it feels that way. The last half of the show plays out along with two encores. Fatigue dampens down on everyone as the crowd starts to disperse and the roadies begin taking apart set ups. Walking back with the boys, you hand them their normal robes and towels as they head to the dressing room. Making your way back to your post and sitting down, the realization of this is the end dawns on you. A month of tours finished. A month of pain, suffering, blood, sweat, and many tears but also a month of pure bliss. A month of becoming even closer with the band that you've come to know the much more this past year. Seeing them outside of the studio was a shock at first but tour life seems to mellow them out in ways. Less ego if that was even possible knowing them in the first place.

Knowing you probably should attend the after party the hotel Freddie booked, your feet ache as you rise up. Feeling the ripe ol' age of 87 at 29 is a sensation you've grown used to but hearing your joints crack as you rise really made you feel ancient.

"Here I thought I was the old one. I heard that all the way over here!"

John laughs at your cracky joints, walking over to give you an arm to support you. A bird is flipped in his direction and he smiles wider. You can tell someone's got more alcohol in their system.

"Now, Y/N, you ready for one last hurrah before a hangover and drive back home?"

"You're speaking my language, Deacy. I'll meet you at the ballroom, okay? Not really digging the uniform look at the minute, you know?"

"Don't be too late, I might be a goner by the time you arrive."

Following his lead to the bus, you and the rest of the group pile in. John walking up the steps in front of you gave you a view you didn't expect to enjoy so much. Those pants really doing him some favors. Shaking your head, you walk the few steps up and look around for a seat. Taking the only empty one next to Freddie, you lean over to congratulate a job well done and yet another successful tour on their end. Feeling eyes on you, a look over shows a poofy haired bassist waving at you once he has your attention. Waving back and turning back to Freddie, you can tell he has a question burning his tongue.

"You and John sure have gotten close over this tour."

"I guess so, yeah."

"Playing favorites? I see how it is, dear."

You slap his shouder with a 'piss off' and a cackle on his end.

"Are you still mad about the scrabble match the other week, Fred? Don't break up the Y/LN and Deacon dream team."

The last night in France ended with drama and an almost scratched cornea as scrabble pieces went flying. Deciding since Jim was present that night, even teams could be made. Brian and Roger, Fred and Jim, then you and John teamed up and no one's surprise, Freddie's normal strategy of adding one tile to make a bigger word didn't work out in his favor. What did come as a surprise was Brian and Roger not taking the win that night. Tempers flared as you and John danced about. When turned, you couldn't see the rogue piece flying your way. Luckily you blinked in time to save you from a more serious injury. 

"Please, I'm not mad over a silly fucking game."

"Yeah, one that nearly took out my eye!"

He rolled his eyes but smiled regardless of what he's trying to front. Pulling up to the hotel, you grab your luggage and is soon presented the key to your room. Not wanting to deal with an overly drunk John Deacon, you slightly rush to get ready. After party outfits normally consisted of a tank top, shorts and sneakers but considering it's the last one, you go more formal. Feeling very gussied up in heels you never thought you would wear at all this tour and a dress, you turn to the bathroom with your makeup bag is tow. What you already had on was fine but needed a touch up. Looking over your appearance and adjusting oddly fitting sections, you deem yourself offically ready. However feeling slightly over dressed and maybe showing more than what you're used to but hell, it's August. Realizing that it wasn't too late to call Tom, you dial the number that's branded in your brain at this point and wait for the phone to pick up. 

"Hello?"

He sounds slightly tired but the call was quick so you didn't feel too bad about it.

"Hey, just wanted to call and say I'll be home in the next couple days!"

"Oh shit, that time already? I've already got so used to you being gone!"

You couldn't help but laugh along with him.

"We're throwing one last bash before this ends for good. Freddie's doing of course."

"Well don't let me stop you, go and have fun!"

"Love ya, Tom."

"Love ya too, Y/N."

Hanging up and taking a breath, your chest feels odd. Putting it up to just this being nearly over, you stuff your keycard in your bra, spray on one more mist of perfume. The feeling in your chest worsens as you walk into the ballroom crowded with people, nearly completely naked women servers and the sight of John sitting back and flirting with one of them while talking with Brian. Grabbing one off the nearest tray, you down it then grab another immediately. Shaking your head and walking over to the two men in question, they greet you with side hugs. 

"Where are the other two?"

"Around somewhere."

"You know I'll hear it from both of them if I don't come say hi during the party."

Brian smiles, knowing far too well how they get with you at times. 

"Regardless, cheers! Cheers to a successful tour and good friends!"

You three clink your glasses together and conversation flows. Brian talks about his plans when arriving home to the wife and kids along with possibly making plans with some actress he's a fan of. Spacing out and looking at your surroundings, the music is pulsing through your lungs with the bass pumping through the speakers. You recognize the song easily, Blue Monday filling your ears and the bass matches your heartbeat once you turn back to your friends and hear John conversing with one of the women attending the party. Watching him shift so she can sit next to him, her body pressing against his while he whispers in her ear, you're in need of a change of scenery. You finally figured out what the sinking feeling in your chest was.

"Hey Bri, care you dance?"

"Not really. Not really my kind of music, Y/N."

"Please?"

Batting your eyelashes in hopes of hiding how uncomfortable you are, it fails and he picks up on your body language. 

"I guess you caught me in a good mood."

Sitting up, you two walk over to the other dancing party goers and while stiff as a board, Brian tries to do something with his body.

"Is everything okay? You seemed a bit off when you came in but now I know something's up. Did you call Tom?"

"How dare you say his name?!"

"Figured it'd be safe when you see him in, what, two days?"

"I'm taking the piss and I did. He seems happy to have me back but I think something's happened."

"He's not cheating on you, is he?!"

"Oh god no! I.....I think I've developed feelings for John."

You're pretty sure if he had a drink in his hand, it would've crashed all over the floor. 

"Want to head somewhere else and talk about it?"

"Please."

Taking your arm and leading you through the crowd, Brian leads you two outside. A handful of people occupy the space but mostly to get a smoke in quick before heading back in. Spacing yourself away from the others as far as possible, you and Brian sit on one of the benches. Your breathing is unsteady and worsens as you try to calm it down. He puts a hand on your knee and rubs gentle circles in hopes of doing something for your nerves.

"I'm not going to lie, Y/N, can't say I didn't exactly see it coming."

"Gee, thanks Bri. Exactly what I want to hear."

"Is this a recent development?"

Thinking back, it started in the studio. It was around the time they started recording the album and you started just watching them play behind the producer. Wasn't until you watched John lick his fingers before playing the strings on his bass again where something flickered in you.

"....Shit."

That was almost a year ago. 

"Well, around the time you guys started recording the new album."

His eyes widened. Blinking slightly resembling that of a reptile in its speed.

"Your 'shit' is valid."

"I know! The more time I spend with him, the more I realize I really care for the guy. But I can't just up and leave Tom. I can't just...hurt him like that. He doesn't deserve it in the slightest."

You sigh, feeling tears wanting to trickle out of your eyes any second.

"But I've been finding my feelings for him fading the more I'm with John. What if I leave Tom, then what? Just go up to John and be like 'oh hey, I have some strong feelings for you. Wanna do something?'"

Brian wraps a curl around his finger, pulling as he thinks. He lets out a sigh of his own.

"Honestly, I'm going through the same thing right now with Chrissie. That actress, Anita...we've been talking and I've developed some feelings for her. Ones I haven't had with Chrissie in a while, now. I have a wife and kids but should I persue this?"

You give him a sympathetic look.

"We're fucked, aren't we?"

"Maybe a little bit. But at least you're not married."

You look at each other in solidarity. Knowing each other's struggles far too well. He brings up the fair point that you aren't married. You also think back to how things were before you left for tour and it wasn't the best. You missed Tom, you really did. But was the passion there like it was previously? Not especially. Sometimes it just felt more like a friends with benefits situation rather than a full blown relationship lasting three years. 

"You know what? I'm going for it."

"Positive, love?"

"I think so." 

Sitting up and brushing off your dress, Brian stands with you.

"I think I might have a talk with Anita and go from there on how to do this. Chrissie doesn't deserve being left for another woman but sometimes people outgrow each other. Relationships evolves and sometimes they become stagnant."

Walking back to your previous place inside, you're greeted with the sight of the woman gone and replaced with Freddie and Roger. Bending down and asking a quick 'Can we talk?' to John, you two head over to the hallway. You're shaking and can't look him in the eye. Trying to get your sights on him, he lifts a hand to your chin, using a few fingers to guide your sights towards him.

"You're scaring me a bit. Did something happen, love?"

There is not enough alcohol in your system to make this easier.

"I was talking with Brian and came to some conclusions that have been....cloudy for a little while now."

His eyebrows are furrowed together in concern, he's never seen you like this. Nervous was normal in aspects of your job but like this is completely uncharted territory for him. Not knowing how to tread the waters, he takes the hand that was on your chin and rubs your upper arm. 

"You can talk to me. You know that, right?"

You swallow, feeling like you're nearly choking on air. 

"John I...god..."

Before you could mutter even something resembling a syllable, you hear John's name being called. Turning your head slightly to see it's the woman he was flirting with earlier, danging her bag in front of her.

"Finally remembered where I put the damned thing. You ready to go, Johnny?"

You want to vomit on the spot but knowing if you would, it would be Exorcist levels in the amount purged. Your eyes threaten to release the waterworks and you look up to put the tears back in their place. Beginning to walk away, you feel a grip on your shoulder.

"Sorry but my friend here is going through something. Raincheck, yeah?"

Obviously very annoyed, her eye roll was puntuated with her heels clicking away. He looks over at you and immediately notices tears running down your cheeks. Wiping them away, he leads you out of this area of the hotel and back to his room. Turning the key, your heart beats to the point where it leaves you breathless. He leads you inside and onto the bed but before you get to talk, he doesn't sit quite yet. Grabbing the unwrapped toilet paper roll from the bathroom, he hands it to you then sits down at your side. 

"What's going on, Y/N?"

As he rubs your arm again like he did in the hallway, your brain struggles but comes up with some sort of coherent sentence to present.

"I think Tom and I might be over."

He blinks at you, much in the same fashion as Brian had. But before you knew it, he wrapped you in a hug. His head on your shoulders and hand smoothing over your back. He says your name softly followed by an 'I'm so sorry'. Staying like until the tears stop flowing, he peels away from you. You wipe away your tears, noticing your mascara has somehow held up. 

"I...I don't mean to pry but, well, what happened?"

The question you were dreading but this band-aid needs to be ripped off.

"I realized we've sort of...grown apart. Also..damn, not again.." as you rip off a piece of toilet paper and dab your eyes. Catching your breath took a minute but you finally get their in due time. With a sigh, you finally let it out.

"I've developed feelings for another person."

Watching him with blurry eyes didn't give you the opportunity to see his shoulders drop slightly or lips tighten.

"They're incredibly lucky to have caught your attention, Y/N."

"I think I'm lucky to have met them is a better statement. He's really great."

You sigh again and finally clear your vision. His expression is hard to read. Almost, seeming disappointed but that's probably your imagination trying to cope with rejection. Rejection that hasn't happened yet.

"I'm sure he is."

He moves away from you and grabs the television remote, flipping through channels until one catches his eye. Sitting back beside you, he looks back at you.

"Sorry, felt like background noise might've been welcome."

"Maybe a bit, yeah. Do you want to hear about him?"

"Am I going to have a choice in the matter? You're destined to bring him up."

"Guess you're right. But you're...already quite familiar with him already."

"It's not Brian, is it? I know you two talk or maybe.." This time putting in air quotes around "Talk". 

This time it's your turn to be stunned.

"No! I asked him advice about this guy. So, well...he's a bass player for a pretty well known group, I'm a pretty big fan of his work and writes some absolutely amazing tracks. Some may say he's had some questionable hair choices but I'm a big fan. Also he has these...gorgeous green eyes."

"Is it Paul McCartney?! I know you met him during Live Aid but damn, Y/N. Linda would kick your ass."

"It's not Paul McCartney you dumbass!"

A laugh erupts from you, making him laugh along with you. He dodges the slap on his arm but moving up the bed, sitting up against the headboard. You mirror him, eyes on the television screen. A comfortable silence washes over the room, the soft hum of the air conditioner adds background noise with the show playing before you. Seconds turn into minutes. Minutes turn into almost an hour of contemplation. Should you say something? You've grown close to him this past year, even closer this past month. He's one of your few confidants, a dear source of comfort. Possibly never seeing his smile again gives you literal heartbreak. But what if the risk is worth the reward? What if he views you in that way as well and you're just overreacting? Doubtful but not completely out of the realm of possibility.

It's when it turns into an hour and fifteen minutes when John starts yawning. If you wait, you'll never do it. You'll lose all nerve. You mutter a 'fuck it' under your breath.

"It's you."

He slowly turns his head in your direction. 

"What was that? I was zoned out for a while, there."

"The guy I was talking about....it's, well...."

You can do this, you just did it. Come on.

"It's you, John Richard Deacon."

You've never seen someone's eyes go that big in your life. His jaw goes slightly slack as he just looks at you. You see his eyes dart around every point on your face. Before you can even start registering what's happening, His lips assault you. Kisses on your forehead, kisses on your nose, kisses on your cheeks, kisses on your jaw but finally he reaches your lips. One hand laces its fingers in your hair, the other placed just below your jaw. Your breath is completely and utterly taken away and when he pulls away, lips swollen, your chest fills. What fills your heart to capacity is him whispering.

"I've been waiting, Y/N....I've been waiting for that moment when you say the words I couldn't say."

~~~~~~~~~~

May formatting it to be tumblr friendly to read pay off and if you read this, you are a sweet cherub angel and I love you a little bit. Also damn, my first fic published on Tumblr, they grow up so fast. 

[heli0s-writes]

I. What's in a name (that which we call a Bucky)

Summary: What kind of name is BUCKY? Your dog's name is BUCKEYE. Much better. Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes A/N: A more humorous work... be alert: everyone in this fic is a lil shit. Dog-lover reader. Enemies to friends to lovers and strap in kiddos, we’re going to Ohio!

Foot in Mouth Syndrome Masterpost

It’s past midnight when the bell on your doorknob titters. A high-pitched whine follows the noise and you drop the book in your hand before emitting a loud groan of annoyance. As a response to your complaint, footsteps quickly pad back towards the computer room you sit in.

“God damn it,” you scold towards the door, “I just took you out like an hour ago.”

It’s half-serious, half-playful as you point a finger towards the 50-pound mass of pure muscle now pitifully cocking his head to the side. Your dog, Buckeye, lovingly named after your alma-mater’s mascot whines pathetically as he falls forward onto his two front paws and gives you the saddest look he can muster. The slate-grey skin between his eyes bends upwards in crinkly folds as he continues to peer at your perched figure on the swivel chair.

You shuffle your desk space around, placing the heavy tome from your hand over the mountain of other paperbacks scattered about. Taking one final look over the paper you’d been working on for the last two weeks, you hit save, making sure it uploads itself to the online drive before stepping away.

The clock on the lower right-hand corner of your monitor reads 2:30. Fuck. Way more than past midnight. You had been so focused on writing you didn’t even realize how late it was. Sending an apologetic look to your dog, you rub his ear before heading down the hallway and grabbing the leash by the door. Poor guy, you hadn’t taken him out in almost four hours.

He’s striding towards you, tail wagging back and forth at the sight of your hand on the leash. His tongue flops out stupidly and you giggle at how dumb he looks. Before clipping the leash to his collar, you give him a big kiss on the head and push your face affectionately. He’d come such a long way in the past five months.

“Okay, big baby. Let’s go.”

The training bell hanging from the knob flails against the door as you step outside, closing it shut.

You and Buckeye head downstairs, your slippers squishing against the wet grass as he leads you over to his favorite sniffing grounds. Under the lamp, you scroll on your phone distractedly, making sure you’d replied to all the e-mails you had received earlier in the day. Eyeing him from time to time to make sure he’s doing what he’s supposed to, you tap out a quick response to a group message from some classmates. They’re probably awake at this time anyway, you muse bitterly, graduate school can be a real bitch like that. Tucking the phone into your back pocket, you fiddle a doggy bag from its container strapped to the leash and maneuver it over your hand.

“No sniffing that poo.” You command Buckeye, and he gazes back over his shoulder at you for a single brief second, as if truly contemplating your authority before giving it a quick whiff anyway. You scoff before tugging him from the pile and further back into the grass. “C’mon, Buck. Dude, I gotta get back in. Please poop. The bag’s ready for you.”

You wave it around helplessly as he traipses on, keeping close, but really pushing your patience. Ten minutes later, you decide you’ve had it with him and start tugging him back towards the sidewalk. He resists at first and you have to use your “mom” voice a couple of times before he follows your lead and drags himself back to your side.

This was the usual routine of your life: wake up, go to campus, work on campus, work from home, find time to eat, work some more, go to bed. In-between all of those activities was of course, take Buckeye outside to jog, pee, shit, and socialize… when he was up for it.

You “adopted” the big lug from the shelter six months ago, falling head over heels for that stupid white oblong patch (you called it his Penis Patch because c’mon… it looked like one) and that wrinkly-ass forehead of his. He had been abused as a puppy and then abandoned in an alleyway with a handful of other pit bulls. By the time he got to the animal shelter, he was massively underweight and terrified of being near humans. He was only two months old. It took a lot of work on your end to get him back to a normal weight and as much as people loved to praise how you “saved” him- it was honestly the opposite that happened.

Yes. It was cheesy and gross as fuck to admit out loud, but that dumb animal actually saved you.

If you hadn’t adopted him and decided he was going to be your tether to this fuck-ass world, you were cock-sure you’d have tied yourself a noose out of bedsheets already. It’s what you told your therapist because it was just the damn truth.

The spring air of Manhattan whips over your face as you make your way towards the stairs of your unit, taking glances here and there to make sure nothing scary was happening. Your location was relatively safe, but honestly, you never know with people. You had seen your fair share of frightening and inexplicable things from your time in New York.

As if you were summoning the bad luck to your doorstep, gunshots ring out from a few blocks away. At least you hope it is, because the echo throughout your apartment unit suggests that it’s much closer. Buckeye starts twitching, darting left and right at the sound. You’re steeling your body as he begins to pull and snap at him with your fingers, calling his name. He heads quickly towards the apartment. Another shot resonates between the buildings.

On your right, Buckeye lets out a high-pitched yelp and jumps as rapid footsteps approach behind you. You barely make it two steps out of the way before a heavy body barrels into you and knocks you onto the sidewalk. Both your knees hit the concrete hard and you immediately roll to your side and fumble to find the leash that fell from hand. Your dog is losing it, and frankly, you are about to as well.

He starts to take off towards the darkness of the grass and you’re screaming his name, trying to scramble up to catch the plastic handle of the retractable leash that’s dragging against the ground. His tongue is loose and panting as he whips his head back and forth between you and the darkness, unsure of where to go.

“Come here! Come!”

You ignore the searing in your kneecaps and reach out as you take a step. Before you can make it much farther, an arm swings itself over your neck and strangles the rest of your words.

A single shot fires off at your dog. Buckeye is outta there. He’s yelping the whole way and you cannot stop yourself from shrieking.

“Don’t fucking speak.” A voice growls behind you. The body it belongs to is distinctly masculine as they knee you in the back and prop you up to stand beside them. The cold barrel of a gun presses itself against your temple and you freeze, hands quivering at your sides. Your heart has either imploded or is about to because you can’t tell if it’s beating or not anymore. There is ringing in your ears from the gun being fired in such close quarters, your eyes struggle to focus.

You have so many questions, but your mind is currently a squirrel in traffic running between the front axle of two tires labelled: “Is this where I fucking die?” and “Is my dog okay?”. Getting splattered to bits by either one was dealer’s choice, and your dealer didn’t seem too choosy.

In the distance, footsteps approach and you see two large frames enter your blurry field of vision, lit up under the streetlamp. There are two glimmering silver shapes reflecting that flickering light, one in the shape of a … dinner plate? And the other… another dick. What the hell? Oh god, you think automatically about your dick-spot-shaped dog. Where is he?

“Let her go!” the dinner plate yells. The barrel presses further into your head.

“Drop your weapons!” your assailant calls back, “Or she dies!”

You’re in a bad procedural cop show or something, you swear. Or Ashton Kutcher is 50 years old and he is laughing his ass off in a van right now, filming a new season of Punk’d. You squeeze your eyes shut when the gun clicks against your head, which is generally right after it goes off, according to the movies. There’s a warm sensation against your back and you hope to god that it isn’t you pissing yourself. When you smell the coppery scent rising, you realize it’s the man’s blood. When he sways a little and your body droops with him, you are positive it’s his blood.

The funny silver California/dick shape in the distance moves and becomes a small circle, with a dark spot in the middle. Is that a fucking gun? You blink a couple of times to see the shadowy outlines of the two people stepping closer. There’s aggravated whispering from both of them and your attacker begins to yell about something before a deafening blast cracks past your eyes.

Warm blood sprays on your face when the man falls backwards, heavy limb taking you down with him. You get some of it in your mouth and you scramble to fuck off as far as you can from this now dead body. The two shapes are running towards you, one of them gripping you hard by the arm and pulling you up.

“Buckeye! That is not protocol!”

You dizzily shake your head at the sound of your dog’s name and find your balance on the sidewalk, toes pressing against your slipper to have it back on your foot correctly. In front of you were two enormous men, and you recognize them immediately: Captain America and Winter Soldier.

“You know I don’t miss.” The Soldier retorts, bottom half of his face obscured by his signature black latex mask. It muffles his voice, but you can clearly hear the agitation. Captain America looks over your dripping red knees. “You okay, ma’am?”

You ignore him. As far as you are concerned at this point, they’re both just as dead to you as this other fucker on the ground. You want to find your dog.

“Buck?” You call into the patch of darkness as you carefully tread into the grass, wincing when your knees sting with every step. You don’t see the two Avengers looking at each other in confusion.

“BUCK!” You scream again, panic returning to your chest as you think about your dog scurrying around in the dark, dragging his damn leash, and spiraling back into the hot mess he was six months ago. Damn it, it had taken you so long to train him out of being skittish, and now he was going to be right back in it. You look around the dark, turning the flashlight on your phone and follow what looks like to be a trail of blood. It’s not yours, so you correctly deduce it’s Buckeye.

You start to hyperventilate, shaking with every step.

“Oh, Buck, you piece of shit you, I swear to god, if you’re dead, I’m going to kill you.”

“…Ma’am?”

You whip around and glare at Captain America, “What!” He takes a step back, hands coming up as if to deflect your outcry. His partner next to him places his gun back in the holster at his hip with a quiet click, eyeing you suspiciously. Captain America looks around, like he’s surprised you’ve yelled, because he probably doesn’t get yelled at very often by people he saves.

“…Can I ask what you’re doing?”

“Th’ broad’s mental.” The Soldier scoffs, heading back towards the limp body on the ground. He digs his hands into every pocket of the corpse, even opening the mouth to peer inside. “We need to move this body.” He pulls out a tiny USB from a sewn-on pocket inside the vest and puts it in a pouch on his belt.

“I’m looking for my damn dog.” You hurl, “I’m looking for my fucked-up rescue dog, who was doing very well and on his way to being a proper good boy, before you fucks came along and shot him!”

You hear yourself being more and more hysterical with every syllable. Your pitch is increasing with your heart rate, and the part of you that fears retribution from super soldiers is raising its hand up to be called on by your dominant lizard-brain. Your lizard-brain is soaked in fear and refuses the hand.

“That guy shot your dog.” The Soldier nudges the body with a steel-toed boot.

“You scared him! He’s afraid of loud noises and you were shooting up the place, you trigger-happy motherfucker,” you point a finger to the offending Avenger, “You could have shot me, you bag of limp dicks.”

Winter Soldier lets your insults slide; you’re definitely off your meds, he thinks. “Like I said, I don’t miss.”

Captain America finally snaps his shield back onto his back and runs a hand through his hair. You’re half surprised he’s not wearing that dorky-ass helmet he’s usually sporting but turn around regardless and start walking faster, ignoring the muddier ground the further you go in. From the position next to the soon-to-be chalk outline, the two Avengers argue quietly before one of them groans and they both fall silent. You figure they’ve kissed and made up.

Grass is shuffling behind you as Captain America effortlessly catches up to your uneven steps.

“I can track your dog. Let me help.”

You say nothing because you’re so preoccupied with being pissed off that this happened in the first place and because you honestly couldn’t refuse the help regardless of how overinflated your pride was. You couldn’t see for shit in the dark and you’d rather have Buckeye back than any amount of satisfaction flinging insults could bring. Stepping back, you let Brown-Beard take the lead and follow him through the mud and into the back of a unit now five buildings away.

When you slip on a particularly wet patch, he’s quick to grab your elbow and support you. He also takes it as an opening to make conversation.

“What’s type of dog is…”

“Buckeye.” You say, pulling your elbow away and falling back into step. He turns around and raises a single eyebrow.

“Buck…eye?” The second syllable is dropped low- as if he’s unsure that it’s the right thing to say.

“….Yes. Buckeye.” You hiss back.

“Buck…eye.” He repeats again, moving the sounds around in his mouth carefully. You pull a face but say nothing. Boy they sure like to make ‘em big and dumb, don’t they?

“He’s a pit bull. He’s gray with a white patch on his chest. He’s not fucking lethal or anything- like people think he’s just… damaged. He’s not even full-grown; just an oversized ball of anxiety and post-traumatic stress.” Your voice becomes distressed the more you talk about your good boy, and you decide to shut up before you can burst into tears.

“We’ll find him, promise.” Captain tries to send you a smile, but it gets misplaced in the thick of his beard and you’re not even looking anyway, pretending to follow the trail so he doesn’t see your eyes well up. You’re thankful for his help. But fuck him still; he scared your dog.

“There’s no more blood, which is good,” He says, “Steps are getting closer together, so he’s not running anymore. There’s a funny… thing- though. What’s he dragging?”

“His leash.” You mutter.

“Ah.” There’s a pause, “You know, that’s actually a good thing- it’ll slow him down.”

 It’s at least another twenty minutes of walking in silence as you follow Captain Star Spangled Banner out of your apartment complex and down three completely decrepit alleyways, at least one littered with broken glass. Upon entering the fourth one, you swear you hear clattering in the back and pick up your speed, calling out.

“Buck? Buckeye? Is that you?” Your voice is quivering in the dark. Your companion has stilled beside you, not letting his footsteps drown out your voice. “Buckeye, come here.” You’re as careful as can be as you quietly step forward, a tiny bit closer to the slow shadow in the corner.

When a car drives by on the main road, the shine of headlights reflects two glowing blue pearls that you’d recognize anywhere. His tail is wagging happily against the pavement of the alleyway, and it breaks your heart to see he’s battered in blood.

You put both your arms around him to settle him from possibly scurrying away at the sight of Captain’s figure, who hangs in the back, but is still so large that it disturbs Buckeye. “My big guy,” You sob into his stupid, dirty neck, “You’re all muddy... Oh Buck, you big idiot… you dummy.”

You find the handle on the leash again, but Buckeye is tentative to follow, stumbling when he stands up on all four feet. When you lean over to examine him, he’s all cut up on his paws and you see it now, the big streak of open flesh on his upper thigh that’s crusted over into a brown stripe. The shiny fur that’s beneath it is matted with more dried blood and it’s so large that you break out into tears all over again. You don’t think he’s able to walk anymore, which might have worked out in your favor; it did stop him from running.

Captain slowly makes his way toward the two of you and reach both hands out, kneeling and laying one gently underneath Buckeye’s snout to scratch him. Your dog inspects the hand nervously before giving it a quick lick. He pants happily at the scratch to his chin and you can’t help but snort at his simplicity. Captain offers to pick him up for you and you let him, surprised that Buck’s letting someone other than you be so close. You’re glad for it, though, since you would not have been able to pick him up out of the alleyway on your own.

“I’ve been compared to a Golden Retriever before,” Captain says amiably as he easily holds Buckeye in his arms, leading you out of the dark path. He’s got a glint in his eye like he’s real proud of himself for that quip. “I definitely think of myself as a dog person.”

You scoff and save your retort for another time, pointing him in the direction of your local pet emergency hospital instead.

-

It must have been a sight for them, Steve ponders as he sits in the waiting chair of the hospital, giving away smiles at the receptionists and nurses who occasionally gather to stare at him. When the automatic doors slid open, they probably weren’t expecting Captain America in full tactical gear to walk in with a dog in his arms. Not to mention the young woman who followed, looking in not much better shape than the dog.

He glances over to you as you lean back in the plastic chair resembling more of a bucket than anything comfortable. Both your knees are completely skinned raw and the trail of blood reached your feet, caked in mud. The woman at the front desk offered you some bandages and antiseptic, which you’d haphazardly sloshed all over yourself before resigning to let it be. Your eyes have slipped closed as you wait for the nurse to come talk to you about your dog; it is late, after all—nearly four in the morning, and Steve lets you rest when he hears your breathing slow.

He begins to check his phone, punching in a text to Bucky with updates, barely able to hold back the giddy energy inside of him. Bucky was going to flip when Steve cracks open the can of worms that is the dog’s name. And it’s going to completely boil his noodle when he hears that your description of your dog almost perfectly matched Steve’s own description of Bucky. He swears right now, under these old fluorescent lights and with God’s blessing that he would never, ever, let Bucky live this down.

“You… use…a … flip… phone?” Your disbelieving voice is so quiet that Steve thinks a ghost is making fun of him.

“Well, it does flip, and it is a phone.” He retorts, face completely blank for a couple of seconds before breaking out into a smirk.

Your sit up in the chair, looking over to Steve incredulously. “Who are you, my dad?” Your features twist into a disgusted sneer, but he catches the amusement in your eyes.

He chuckles in response. It’s not the first time Steve’s been told that his jokes were corny, at this point in his life, he’s decided to just go with it.

“Don’t you have someplace to be? Maybe more Avenging in another quiet neighborhood?” The snark comes out sharper than you intend it, but between the two hours of sleep last night and probable zero hours of sleep you’ll get tonight, you’re on autopilot.

“It’s being taken care of.” He stares straight ahead. Your comment implies that you’d rather him leave, but he feels in part responsible and obligated to stay. Besides, you’ll need a ride home and someone to carry your pet to the door. “I’m sorry about your dog.”

“He’s not fucking dead,” You huff, “If he was, you and Bicentennial Man would be fucked. You won’t believe how many knives I can carry in my mouth alone.”

Steve almost gives himself whiplash as he does a double-take on your completely placid and unfazed profile view. He thinks it’s better not to ask about the capacity of knives your mouth can hold or about how you know that very specific fact about yourself. However, he can’t help from letting out a wheeze of a laugh because the feral image frankly reminds him more and more of Bucky; Steve has definitely seen Bucky with a knife in his mouth.

Another fifteen minutes pass of drifting in and out of sleep before the nurse peeks her head out and calls you into the treatment room. She stares open-mouthed when Steve followed dutifully behind and closes the door with a quiet click.

Buckeye is lying in a lethargic daze on the table with a plastic cone around his neck. The large gash on his leg has been stitched and carefully covered by gauze and his paws are bandaged up as well. At the sight of the two of you, his tail begins to pat slowly against the smooth surface of the table in quick taps before trailing off and starting back up again. He is looking into your eyes, but Steve can see his gaze wander around the room in a medicated stupor from time to time.  

His stomach tightens when you begin to sniffle and draw lazy circles on Buckeye’s head with your thumb. The nurse runs over the health diagnostic for your pup and all seems pretty well, considering the doleful state he’s in.

“He might not eat for the first day, but you’ll have to try to make him...” The nurse hands you a large zip-loc full of bandages, ointments, pills, and paper. “Keep the cone on for at least two weeks and stick to the dosage schedule… Do you have any questions?”

You shake your head, rifling through the various items in the bag before zipping it back up.

“Okay. Well, he’s doing really good, and I think he’ll make a speedy recovery soon.” The nurse offers you a smile and you reply kindly, thanking her for everything before sighing at Buckeye. Steve steps forward in the silent moment and scoops your dog’s tired body into his arms before thanking the nurse as well. She goes white as a sheet when you open the door to let him out. Steve hopes there won’t be any tweets later about Captain America saving puppies.

 At the front desk, Steve watches you shuffle side to side when the receptionist rings up each cost. Dressed in an oversized Ohio shirt and pajama shorts, it’s obvious you are not prepared for this. You were probably just a college student, and since he didn’t see you make any phone calls to your parents or family members who might foot the bill, he assumes you’re on your own. Before the receptionist can hand you anything, Steve shifts and tilts his right leg forward.

“Can you reach into this pocket?” He asks, startling everyone in the vicinity: you, the receptionist, and your dog. You stare at him dumbly for a minute, grimacing at the leg pointed in your direction and the back-and-forth Captain America’s eyes keep sending you. It goes from your face to his pocket and every time it returns to your face your frown drops more.

“What?”

“For my wallet.”

“Fuck no!”

“C’mon… I don’t think you have any other options,” the sentence hangs on a truth you don’t need spoken. You pale and begrudgingly reach for the snap closure on his thigh, widening grimace now making your face look like a melted Dali painting. The receptionists’ eyebrows go higher and higher the closer your shaking hand gets. Captain America bounces his leg to shake the leather case loose as your hand digs inside and gets stuck between fabric and muscle. Buckeye grumbles in his arms at the jostling and his holder whispers a quiet apology before nuzzling him with his nose.

He doesn’t notice you staring. The receptionist does.

When the wallet is finally pried free (why are his pants so tight, anyway? This bitch is dummy thicc, too, you think) he motions for you to pull out a black card with a surprising bit of heft to it. You nervously hand it over and avoid eye contact with him as the transaction finishes, stuffing the damn thing back in and snapping it shut in one swift motion. You can feel your face stuck in a rigid expression of bewilderment the entire time.

“I-- uh... thanks... for that.”

He motions you with his head to go outside and when you follow him through the automatic doors, a black car is parked in front. The Winter Soldier is in the driver seat and reaches over to open the door. He’s taken his mask off and looks over at the Captain with your dog in his arms. He’s all stubbly and homeless-looking, you think, the complete opposite of Golden Boy Rogers in front of you.

An exhausted look passes over his dark features as he glances from Captain to Buckeye to your fucked-up knees. “...Just... get in.”

 The ride is silent save for the sound of Buckeye’s soft whimpers in the fit of a nightmare. You hush him with soft pets and coo his name in his ears. “It’s okay, Buck. I’m here, Bucky.”

The Soldier snaps his gaze up to you from the rearview mirror. Captain America smirks. You catch neither of their expressions, transfixed on your dog who resembles Frankenweenie more than himself. Stupid fucking bad guy. Stupid Avengers.

“What did you just say?” Winter Soldier slowly asks, and you glare at him in the rearview mirror.

“What?” You snap back. What the fuck was his problem? “Mind your fucking business, I’m talking to my goddamn dog.” Buckeye whimpers again and you pat him lightly to soothe his crying. Captain America begins to chuckle quietly from the passenger seat the longer Winter Soldier stares at you. “Eyes on the fucking road.” You hiss when you catch his glare.

He’s probably going to shoot your ass, you think. Your dog begins to whimper again, a broken string of yowling erupting from him before he stills. The taped gauze on his side has started to turn a slight pink. “It’s gonna be okay, Buck.” You sigh.

“Jesus, what the fuck are you saying?” Winter Soldier nearly shrieks as he pulls sharply into a parking space in front of your building. His volume startles your dog and he shoots up with a loud whine, hitting the plastic cone on the back of the driver’s side. You quickly place both hands on his back to settle him down. “Buckeye, it’s okay.”

Captain America is in a full-on giggle fit now, having to hold his sides to stop himself from seizing. He briefly pauses to apologize and puts a hand on your dog’s head, quieting him with a lazy pet.

“It’s her dog, Buck!” “Yeah I know it’s my dog, Buck.” You snarl, confused as to why this is even a topic of discussion.

Red, white, and shit-for-brains starts up again with the laughing. “Th-the dog’s name--” He wheezes. “Is Buckeye.” There’s a flash of recognition that sweeps over the driver’s reflection in the rearview before it turns into one of annoyance. Then it turns into disdain.

“What kind of a fucking name is that?” He spits before smacking his hand into Captain America’s chest.

“Hey! Shut the hell up! That’s my alma mater you uneducated dickbag!” You point to your red Ohio State shirt with the big “O” right in the middle. It’s so worn and old that the red has faded, and the white print of the O is all cracked, but anyone with two braincells knows exactly what that means. You start bellowing the Ohio State Fight Song proudly and halfway through the second note Buckeye starts to howl weakly beside you.

Captain America bursts into another fit of laughter and pounds on the dashboard with his fists.

The Soldier whips around and slams his metal hand against your mouth, pushing your entire head back against the cushion. “Will you shut up!” To spite him, you continue humming to the best of your ability, even with your lip smushed up against your teeth and his cold palm. You raise your middle finger up between his eyes before holding the last note out particularly long.

Buckeye yowls and yips at your side, punctuating the tune with a quiet whine at the end. He lazily reaches up and licks the elbow joint between the front seat, leaving a slobber trail. He notices his reflection in it temporarily before getting distracted by Captain’s chuckle and lying back down.

Winter Soldier finally pulls his arm away and you take the opportunity to spitefully lick a similar stripe onto his palm, leaving it dripping with the spit you’ve accumulated in your mouth.

He crossly slumps in his seat. “I fucking hate this girl.” He mutters.

“It’s mutual, princess.” You retort, rubbing your stiff jaw and running your fingers against your lips. “What’s your problem with my dog’s name?” You’re a bit suspicious because he doesn’t seem like a college sports guy since he was non-responsive to your shirt but he sure as hell is not a fan of your dog.

“Do you know our names?” Captain America asks you, eyes alight. You shrug, because like, not really. World War II was interesting when you were in the sixth grade and morbid as fuck but it totally went in one ear and out the other for your entire college career. Even more boring was the Captain America propaganda, Super Soldier serum, humanity’s hubris bullshit. You were one of the few people you know who was not losing their mind when Tony Stark toured your university. More than anything, he annoyed you; he caused a huge traffic jam on campus and it ruined your route home. They just weren’t your thing—the Avengers.

“I mean, Stevie Ro… Rober—“ you gauge his reaction carefully, “Ronald— Ro— Ross? Rogers!” You breathe a sigh of relief as he memory of Emily Booth in fourth period doodling “Rogers” inside a million hearts appears in your mind. Then you turn to The Soldier and shrug. Plain as day, you could not recall his name whatsoever. You just called him the Dead Commando in that fourth period American History II final paper.

You got a passing grade, so “Dead Commando” stuck.

“It’s James Buchanan Barnes.” He grits out between clenched teeth.

“That’s fancy.” You deadpan, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Bucky. For short.”

“Buck, for even shorter.” Rogers pipes up, still all twinkly in the eyes, waiting for you to put two and two together. Yeah. You do. It makes you want to die a little.

“Ugh.” Is all you can manage.

--

He shows up the next morning in civvies: white T-shirt, navy blue bomber jacket, and well-worn dark jeans. You stare dumbly at him as he leans against your doorframe, almost as wide as the entrance itself. You’re half-asleep and dressed in the clothes you had on last night: crumpled red Ohio shirt, mismatched pinstriped blue and white pajama shorts.

Your phone had been misplaced amidst the ruckus of the search party, so you just planned on missing your meeting today. It wasn’t like you could properly function anyway, barely getting to bed at 5:30 and waking up at the asscrack of dawn with Captain Underpants at your door.

Even his knocks sounded patriotic. Big, strong thumping blows that rattled all the way into your bedroom.

“Rough night?” Steve Rogers asks as you try your best to smooth the flyaways of your bedhead. Stupid, perfect, blonde and blue-eyed giant man.

“Am I being haunted? What are you doing here?” Your voice sounds like gravel in a blender as you rub the sleep from your eyes.

He shrugs, looking down at his shoes and smiling secretively, like he’s got another corny joke up his sleeve. “Just wanted to see how Buck’s doing.”

“Don’t you have your own Buck to babysit? From what I remember, he needs a leash more than mine does.”

You let him in anyway, and your dog is waiting patiently by the couch, tail slapping the carpet as he remembers his savior from last night. Steve starts to coo as he scratches Buckeye’s chin and head, careful not to rile him up too much. He looks in complete ecstasy when Steve picks at a particularly good spot.

You shift awkwardly as you stand by the kitchen bar, leaning against a stool. How does one man still manage to look like his superhero moniker in civilian clothing? You bet yourself that his closet hung the same monochromatic color pallet—as if costume director dressed him, just in case he forgot he was Captain America.

“Well...” you begin, moving to the kitchen to brew yourself some coffee. Halfway to the single-serving French press, you trade it out for the larger one and add extra water in the kettle. You’re not sure what to say, so you shut up and groan inwardly as you grind the beans. You dip into the restroom and return with your toothbrush, scrubbing quietly as you watch Steve get on the floor to rub your dog’s pink tummy.

“If you pet him with your foot he won’t know the difference. Save ya knees, man.”

“This good boy deserves a real tummy rub, doesn’t he?” Captain America is using baby talk on your dog. It makes you feel... all funny.

Steve Rogers stands up and beams at you from across the counter. You frown because his perfect white smile is brighter than the sunlight streaming in through your window. You spit and rinse your toothbrush in the sink to avoid the shine, but he’s still there when you return. Great. Not a dream. Maybe a nightmare.

You take the kettle off the stovetop when it starts to squeak and blurt out another snarky comment just because you really hate silences and love being awkward. “Buckeye’s gonna get neutered soon. Wanna take yours too?”

Captain America chuckles and shakes his head, blue eyes twinkling at the hand on your hip. “You know, that smart mouth o’ yours is gonna get you into trouble one day.” You gulp as you pour the water suddenly aware that there is a real, live, broad-as-hell man standing in your living room and looking at you like you’re somebody... and he called your mouth smart.

You’re also suddenly aware that you look like shit and your hand shakes a little when you place the filter over the top of the floating coffee grinds.

“Fuck, I think I’m already in trouble.” You mutter into your shoulder as you turn.

Steve doesn’t catch the comment and digs his hand into his back pocket, producing the phone you’ve been missing since last night. You sigh in relief when you see it- as good as it was before, partially cracked screen, but still working. It’s warm when he puts it in your hand and you automatically pull a face.

“Butt heat. I mean--- hot! Hot ass!—Oh, damn it.”

You shut your eyes and the world feels like it’s stopped spinning altogether. Please god, you think, please let him be gone when you look again because you don’t think you can stand another minute on this Earth. Damn your stupid no-filter smart mouth.

He’s still there, though, because life is so stupid and whatever creator that exist hates you. His left eyebrow is raised, and he’s crossed his arms over his chest, smirking.

“You need to brush up on your compliments.”

“Not a compliment!” You hiss, “Don’t put people’s phones in your back pocket! You’re too fucking big to be sitting on them. But thank you for giving it back.”

Steve laughs as you push the filter down on the French press. He’s saying something about how Bucky wanted to put his hand through the device, but your ears are ringing too loudly to hear him. You feel relieved anyway, because you think that you’ve reached your quip-quota for the day.

You pour yourself a cup and he puts his hands up to stop you, excusing himself-- somewhere to be, some old lady to save, he says. You fumble around a bottom cabinet for a second before pulling out a thermos and dumping the rest of the press’ coffee into it.

“Since you did hand-deliver my phone to me, it’s the least I can do. It’s blue, too. Complements your eyes.”

He smiles and takes the thermos from you. “That was a good compliment.” He says, all twinkly again.

“Complement, not compliment.” You correct bluntly.

He takes two steps to the door before turning, “No, the compliment was that you noticed my eyes at all.” He laughs when your face scrunches up, miffed. Captain America was a real … sonuvabitch. “By the way... I left you a number for a dogsitter, just in case you need one.” You rotate the flat rectangle of your phone against your chest as he yanks the door open. “It’s a good service. Reliable. And they text, too.”

And just like that, he’s gone. You stare at Buckeye, who whines pathetically at the door.

You cock your head, looking at the time on the splintered screen. Might as well, you think, reading 7:15 flashing back at you. You could make it to campus by 9.

 The meeting drags on with your advisor, and it’s almost noon before you realize that you’re going to get hauled into another one of those pop-up seminars the faculty has been putting on all year. You’ve managed to avoid two because there’s just no fucking time to go! How are they expecting you to finish your thesis, go to class, grade a hundred stupid student papers, hold office hours, respond to a thousand e-mails a day, and keep your sanity?

It’s something you’re eager to complain to your therapist about any time she starts asking about your personal life. Which, you’ve been dodging re-scheduling recently. Shit.

You calculate the hours you’ll be away as you sip room-temperature coffee from a fuzzy paper cup. It’ll be another four hours before you can make it home and Buckeye really needs to go outside and have his bandages changed before then. Shit.

Your thumbprint opens the home screen and you scroll through your contacts, searching for that aforementioned “reliable” dogsitter. You hope to hell they’re also immediately available as you part a crowd of undergraduates to exit the building. Tapping the message bubble button, you open up a new thread.

You: Hello. I was referred to your services by a friend. Are you available today by any chance?

Your phone almost immediately vibrates back and you sigh in relief.

Dogsitter: That was fast.

You’re confused, but another response pops up again.

Dogsitter: What time do you need me to come by? And for how long?

You: ASAP? If that’s okay? Um. My dog is really fine on his own, but he’s been in an accident and I need him to have his bandages changed and given medicine. Also, he needs to be taken for a potty-break.

Dogsitter: Potty break, medicine, bandages. Got it…. And what about your key?

You: Yeah, I’ll send you my location for my key. What are your rates by the way?

You open up your map and set the pin to your location before sharing it with the dogsitter. It feels way too good to be true, but you’re a little crunched for time and even if he’s a crazy serial killer, you’ve got a pit bull and nothing of value in your apartment. You feel pretty secure.

The attempt to share your coordinates is rejected and you close the notification. Your phone buzzes in your hand again.

Dogsitter: My rates really depend on the dog… and shouldn’t you be asking for my name, or some identifying marker to recognize me by before I show up and take your [1/2]

You stare blankly at the green speech cloud. What the hell… even twitter updated its character count to 280… who the hell is living so far in the past… before you can finish your thought, the following green balloon appears.

Dogsitter: house key? Stranger danger, ma’am. [2/2]

All the right gears start clicking in your brain and suddenly two perfect pieces of the puzzle fits together. The mystifying black shadow on the other end of the line begins to come into view.

You: ….Steve... Roberts?

Dogsitter: Rogers!

The sound that erupts from your mouth is inhumanly pathetic, a mixture of a groan and a whine. Who did you piss off in your last life to be this cursed?

Next Chapter

[96harmony96]

Chapter 2

Just before I exited the elevator into the vestibule of Waters Field & Leaman, the advertising firm I worked for on the twentieth floor, Lauren whispered in my ear, “Think about me all day.”

I squeezed her hand surreptitiously in the crowded car. “Always do.”

She continued the ride up to the top floor, which housed the headquarters of Jauregui Industries. The Crossfire was her, one of many properties she owned throughout the city, including the apartment complex I lived in.

I tried not to pay attention to that. My mom was a career trophy wife. She’d given up my father’s love for an affluent lifestyle, which I couldn’t relate to at all. I’d prefer love over wealth any day, but I suppose that was easy for me to say because I had money—a sizable investment portfolio—of my own. Not that I ever touched it. I wouldn’t. I’d paid too high a price and couldn’t imagine anything worth the cost.

Megumi, the receptionist, buzzed me through the glass security door and greeted me with a big smile. She was a pretty woman, young like me, with a stylish bob of glossy black hair framing stunning Asian features.

“Hey,” I said, stopping by her desk. “Got any plans for lunch?”

“I do now.”

“Awesome.” My grin was wide and genuine. As much as I loved Cary and enjoyed spending time with him, I needed girlfriends, too. Cary had already started building a network of acquaintances and friends in our adopted city, but I’d been sucked into the Lauren vortex almost from the outset. As much as I’d prefer to spend every moment with her, I knew it wasn’t healthy. Female friends would give it to me straight when I needed it, and I was going to have to cultivate those friendships if I wanted them.

Setting off, I headed down the long hallway to my cubicle. When I reached my desk, I put my bag and purse in the bottom drawer, keeping my smartphone out so I could silence it. I found a text from Cary: I’m sorry, baby girl.

“Cary Taylor,” I sighed. “I love you . . . even when you’re pissing me off.”

And he’d pissed me off royally. No woman wanted to come home to a sexual clusterfuck in progress on her living room floor. Especially not while in the middle of a fight with her new girlfriend.

I texted back, Block off the wknd 4 me if u can.

There was a long pause and I imagined him absorbing my request. Damn, he texted back finally. Must be some ass kicking u have planned.

“Maybe a little,” I muttered, shuddering as I remembered the . . . orgy I’d walked in on. But mostly I thought Cary and I needed to spend some quality downtime together. We hadn’t been living in Manhattan long. It was a new town for us, new apartment, new jobs and experiences, new partners for both of us. We were out of our element and struggling, and since we both had barge loads of baggage from our pasts, we didn’t handle struggling well. Usually we leaned on each other for balance, but we hadn’t had much time for that lately. We really needed to make the time. Up for a trip to Vegas? Just u and me?

Fuck yeah!

K . . . more later. As I silenced my phone and put it away, my gaze passed briefly over the two collage photo frames next to my monitor—one filled with photos of both of my parents and one of Cary, and the other filled with photos of me and Lauren. Lauren had put the latter collection together herself, wanting me to have a reminder of her just like the reminder she had of me on her desk. As if I needed it . . .

I loved having those images of the people I loved close by: my mom with her golden cap of curls and her bombshell smile, her curvy body scarcely covered by a tiny bikini as she enjoyed the French Riviera on my stepdad’s yacht; my stepfather, Richard Stanton, looking regal and distinguished, his silver hair oddly complementing the looks of his much younger wife; and Cary, who was captured in all his photogenic glory, with his lustrous brown hair and sparkling green eyes, his smile wide and mischievous. That million-dollar face was starting to pop up in magazines everywhere and soon would grace billboards and bus stops advertising Grey Isles clothing.

I looked across the strip of hallway and through the glass wall that encased Mark Garrity’s very small office and saw his jacket hung over the back of his Aeron chair, even though the man himself wasn’t in sight. I wasn’t surprised to find him in the break room scowling into his coffee mug; he and I shared a java dependency.

“I thought you had the hang of it,” I said, referring to his trouble with the one-cup coffee maker.

“I do, thanks to you.” Mark lifted his head and offering a charmingly crooked smile. He had gleaming dark skin, a trim goatee, and soft brown eyes. In addition to being easy on the eyes, he was a great boss—very open to educating me about the ad business and quick to trust that he didn’t have to show me how to do something twice. We worked well together, and I hoped that would be the case for a long time to come.

“Try this,” he said, reaching for a second steaming cup waiting on the counter. He handed it to me and I accepted it gratefully, appreciating that he’d been thoughtful about adding cream and sweetener, which was how I liked it.

I took a cautious sip, since it was hot, then coughed over the unexpected—and unwelcome—flavor. “What is this?”

“Blueberry-flavored coffee.”

Abruptly, I was the one scowling. “Who the hell wants to drink that?”

“Ah, see . . . it’s our job to figure out who, then sell this to them.” He lifted his mug in a toast. “Here’s to our latest account!”

Wincing, I straightened my spine and took another sip.

* * *

I was pretty sure the sickly sweet taste of artificial blueberries was still coating my tongue two hours later. Since it was time for my break, I started an Internet search for Dr. Terrence Lucas, a man who’d clearly rubbed Lauren the wrong way when I’d seen the two men together at dinner the night before. I hadn’t gotten any further than typing the doctor’s name in the search box when my desk phone rang.

“Mark Garrity’s office,” I answered. “Camila Cabello speaking.”

“Are you serious about Vegas?” Cary asked without preamble.

“Totally.”

There was a pause. “Is this when you tell me you’re moving in with your billionaire girlfriend and I’ve got to go?”

“What? No. Are you nuts?” I squeezed my eyes shut, understanding how insecure Cary was but thinking we were too far along in our friendship for those kinds of doubts. “You’re stuck with me for life, you know that.”

“And you just up and decided we should go to Vegas?”

“Pretty much. Figured we could sip mojitos by the pool and live off room service for a couple days.”

“I’m not sure how much I can pitch in for that.”

“Don’t worry, it’s on Lauren. her plane, her hotel. We’ll just cover our food and drinks.” A lie, since I planned on covering everything except the airfare, but Cary didn’t need to know that.

“And she’s not coming with us?”

I leaned back in my chair and stared at one of the photos of Lauren. I missed her already and it’d been only a couple of hours since we’d been together. “she’s got business in Arizona, so she’ll share the flights back and forth, but it’ll be just you and me in Vegas. I think we need it.”

“Yeah.” He exhaled harshly. “I could do with a change of scenery and some quality time with my best girl.”

“Okay, then. She wants to fly out by eight tomorrow night.”

“I’ll start packing. Want me to put a bag together for you, too?”

“Would you? That’d be great!” Cary could’ve been a stylist or personal shopper. He had serious talent when it came to clothes.

“camila?”

“Yeah?”

He sighed. “Thank you for putting up with my shit.”

“Shut up.”

After we hung up, I stared at the phone for a long minute, hating that Cary was so unhappy when everything in his life was going so well. He was an expert at self-sabotage, never truly believing he was worthy of happiness.

As I returned my attention to work, the Google search on my monitor reminded me of my interest in Dr. Terry Lucas. A few articles about her had been posted on the Web, complete with pictures that cemented the verification.

Pediatrician. Forty-five years of age. Married for twenty years. Nervously, I searched for “Dr. Terrence Lucas and wife,” inwardly cringing at the thought of seeing a golden-skinned, long-haired blonde. I exhaled my relief when I saw that Mrs. Lucas was a pale-skinned woman with short, bright red hair.

But that left me with more questions. I’d figured it would be a woman who’d caused the trouble between the two men.

The fact was, Lauren and I really didn’t know that much about each other. We knew the ugly stuff—at least she knew mine; I’d mostly guessed her from some pretty obvious clues. We knew some of the basic cohabitation stuff about each other after spending so many nights sleeping over at our respective apartments. she’d met half of my family and I’d met all of her. But we hadn’t been together long enough to touch on a whole lot of the periphery stuff. And frankly, I think we weren’t as forthcoming or inquisitive as we could’ve been, as if we were afraid to pile any more crap onto an already struggling relationship.

We were together because we were addicted to each other. I was never as intoxicated as I was when we were happy together, and I knew it was the same for her. We were putting ourselves through the wringer for those moments of perfection between us, but they were so tenuous that only our stubbornness, determination, and love kept us fighting for them.

Enough with making yourself crazy.

I checked my e-mail, and found my daily Google alert on “Lauren Jauregui.” The day’s digest of links led mostly to photos of Lauren, in black tie sans tie, and me at the charity dinner at the Waldorf Astoria the night before.

“God.” I couldn’t help but be reminded of my mother when looking at the pictures of me in a champagne Vera Wang cocktail dress. Not just because of how closely my looks mirrored my mom’s—aside from my hair being brown, long and straight—but also because of the mega-mogul whose arm I graced.

sinu Cabello Barker Mitchell Stanton was very, very good at being a trophy wife. She knew precisely what was expected of her and delivered without fail. Although she’d been divorced twice, both times had been by her choice and both divorces had left her exes despondent over losing her. I didn’t think less of my mother, because she gave as good as she got and didn’t take anyone for granted, but I’d grown up striving for independence. My right to say no was my most valued possession.

Minimizing my e-mail window, I pushed my personal life aside and went back to searching for market comparisons on fruity coffee. I coordinated some initial meetings between the strategists and Mark and helped Mark with brainstorming a campaign for a gluten-free restaurant. Noon approached and I was starting to feel seriously hungry when my phone rang. I answered with my usual greeting.

“camila?” an accented female voice greeted me. “It’s Magdalene. Do you have a minute?”

I leaned back in my chair, alert. Magdalene and I had once shared a moment of sympathy over Corinne’s unexpected and unwanted reappearance in Lauren’s life, but I’d never forget how vicious Magdalene had been to me the first time we’d met. “Just. What’s up?”

She sighed, then spoke quickly, her words flowing in a rush. “I was sitting at the table behind Corinne last night. I could hear a bit of what was being said between her and Lauren during dinner.”

My stomach tensed, preparing for an emotional blow. Magdalene knew just how to exploit my insecurities about Lauren. “Stirring up crap while I’m at work is a new low,” I said coldly. “I don’t—”

“she wasn’t ignoring you.”

My mouth hung open a second, and she quickly filled the silence.

“she was managing her, camila. She was making suggestions for where to take you around New York since you’re new in town, but she was doing it by playing the old remember-when-you-and-I-went-there game.”

“A walk down memory lane,” I muttered, grateful now that I hadn’t been able to hear much of Lauren’s low-voiced conversation with her ex.

“Yes.” Magdalene took a deep breath. “You left because you thought she was ignoring you for her. I just want you to know that she seemed to be thinking about you, trying to keep Corinne from upsetting you.”

“Why do you care?”

“Who says I do? I owe you one, Camila, for the way I introduced myself.”

I thought about that. Yeah, she owed me for when she ambushed me in the bathroom with her catty jealous bullshit. Not that I bought it as her sole motivation. Maybe I was just the lesser of two evils. Maybe she was keeping her enemies close. “All right. Thank you.”

No denying I felt better. A weight I hadn’t realized I was carrying around was suddenly relieved.

“Something else,” Magdalene went on. “she went after you.”

My grip tightened on the phone receiver. Lauren always came after me . . . because I was always running. My recovery was so fragile that I’d learned to protect it at all costs. When something threatened my stability, I ditched it.

“There have been other women in her life who’ve tried ultimatums like that, camila. They got bored or they wanted her attention or some kind of grand gesture . . . So they walked away and expected her to come after them. You know what she did?”

“Nothing,” I said softly, knowing my man. A man who never spent social time with women she slept with and never slept with women she associated with socially. Corinne and I were the sole exceptions to that rule, which was yet another reason why her ex sent me into fits of jealousy.

“Nothing more than making sure Angus dropped them off safely,” she confirmed, making me think it’d been a tactic she’d tried at some point. “But when you left, she couldn’t chase after you fast enough. And she wasn’t herself when she said good-bye. she seemed . . . off.”

Because she’d felt fear. My eyes closed as I mentally kicked myself. Hard.

Lauren had told me more than once that it terrified her when I ran, because she couldn’t handle the thought that I might not come back. What good did it do to say that I couldn’t imagine living without her when I so often showed her otherwise with my actions? Was it any wonder she hadn’t opened up to me about her past?

I had to stop running. Lauren and I were both going to have to stand and fight for this, for us, if we were going to have any hope of making our relationship work.

“Do I owe you now?” I asked neutrally, returning Mark’s wave as he left for lunch.

Magdalene exhaled in a rush. “Lauren and I have known each other a long time. Our mothers are best friends. You and I will see each other around, Camila, and I’m hoping we can find a way to avoid any awkwardness.”

The woman had come up to me and told me that the minute Lauren “shoved her dick” in me, I was “done.” And she’d hit me with that at a moment when I was especially vulnerable.

“Listen, Magdalene, if you don’t cause drama, we’ll get by.” And since she was being so forthright . . . “I can screw up my relationship with Lauren all by myself, trust me. I don’t need any help.”

She laughed softly. “That was my mistake, I think—I was too careful and too accommodating. she has to work at it with you. Anyway . . . I’ve taken up my minute. I’ll let you go.”

“Enjoy your weekend,” I said, in lieu of thanks. I still couldn’t trust her motivation.

“You, too.”

As I returned the receiver to its cradle, my gaze went to the photos of me and Lauren. I was abruptly overwhelmed by feelings of greed and possession. she was mine, yet I couldn’t be sure from one day to the next whether she’d stay mine. And the thought of any other woman having her made me insane.

I pulled open my bottom drawer and dug my smartphone out of my purse. Driven by the need to have her thinking as fiercely about me, I texted her about my sudden desperate hunger to devour her whole: I’d give anything to be sucking your cock right now.

Just thinking about how she looked when I took her in my mouth . . . the feral sounds she made when she was about to come . . .

Standing, I deleted the text the moment I saw it’d been delivered, then dropped my phone back in my purse. Since it was noon, I closed all the windows on my computer and headed out to reception to find Megumi.

“You hungry for anything in particular?” she asked, pushing to her feet and giving me a chance to admire her belted, sleeveless lavender dress.

I coughed because her question came so soon after my text. “No. Your choice. I’m not picky.”

We pushed out through the glass doors to reach the elevators.

“I am so ready for the weekend,” Megumi said with a groan as she stabbed the call button with an acrylic-tipped finger. “A day and a half left to go.”

“Got something fun planned?”

“That remains to be seen.” She sighed and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Blind date,” she explained ruefully.

“Ah. Do you trust the person setting you up?”

“My roommate. I expect the guy will at least be physically attractive, because I know where she sleeps at night and paybacks are a bitch.”

I was smiling as an elevator car reached our floor and we stepped inside. “Well, that ups your odds for a good time.”

“Not really, since she found him by going on a blind date with him first. She swears he’s great, just more my type than hers.”

“Hmm.”

“I know, right?” Megumi shook her head and looked up at the decorative, old-fashioned needle above the car doors that marked the passing floors.

“You’ll have to let me know how it goes.”

“Oh, yeah. Wish me luck.”

“Absolutely.” We’d just stepped out into the lobby when I felt my purse vibrate beneath my arm. As we passed through the turnstiles, I dug for my phone and felt my stomach tighten at the sight of Lauren’s name. she was calling, not sexting me back.

“Excuse me,” I said to Megumi before answering.

She waved it off nonchalantly. “Go for it.”

“Hey,” I greeted her playfully.

“camila.”

I missed a step hearing the way she growled my name. There was a wealth of promise in the roughness of her voice.

Slowing, I found I was speechless, just from hearing her say my name with that edginess I craved—the sharp bite that told me she wanted to be inside me more than she wanted anything else in the world.

While people flowed around me, entering and exiting the building, I was halted by the weighted silence on my phone. The unspoken and nearly irresistible demand. she made no sound at all—I couldn’t even hear her breathing—but I felt her hunger. If I didn’t have Megumi waiting patiently for me, I’d be riding an elevator to the top floor to satisfy her unvoiced command to make good on my offer.

The memory of the time I’d sucked her off in her office simmered through me, making my mouth water. I swallowed. “Lauren . . .”

“You wanted my attention—now you have it. I want to hear you say those words.”

I felt my face flush. “I can’t. Not here. Let me call you later.”

“Step over by the column and out of the way.”

Startled, I looked around for her. Then I remembered that the Caller ID put her in her office. My gaze lifted, searching for the security cameras. Immediately, I felt her eyes on me, hot and wanting. Arousal surged through me, spurred by her desire.

“Hurry along, angel. Your friend’s waiting.”

I moved to the column, my breathing fast and audible.

“Now tell me. Your text made me hard, camila. What are you going to do about it?”

My hand went to my throat, my gaze sliding helplessly to Megumi, who watched me with raised brows. I lifted one finger up, asking for another minute, then turned my back to her and whispered, “I want you in my mouth.”

“Why? To play with me? To tease me like you’re doing now?” There was no heat in her voice, just calm severity.

I knew to pay careful attention when Lauren got serious about sex.

“No.” I lifted my face to the tinted dome in the ceiling that concealed the nearest security camera. “To make you come. I love making you come, Lauren.”

she exhaled harshly. “A gift, then.”

Only I knew what it meant for Lauren to view a sexual act as a gift. For her, sex had previously been about pain and degradation or lust and necessity. Now, with me, it was about pleasure and love. “Always.”

“Good. Because I treasure you, Camila, and what we have. Even our driving urge to fuck each other constantly is precious to me, because it matters.”

I sagged into the column, admitting to myself that I’d fallen into an old destructive habit—I’d exploited sexual attraction to ease my insecurities. If Lauren was lusting after me, she couldn’t be lusting after anyone else. How did she always know what was going on in my mind?

“Yes,” I breathed, closing my eyes. “It matters.”

There’d been a time when I’d turned to sex to feel affection, confusing momentary desire with genuine caring. Which was why I now insisted on having some sort of friendly framework in place before I went to bed with a man. I never again wanted to roll out of a lover’s bed feeling worthless and dirty.

And I sure as hell didn’t want to cheapen what I shared with Lauren just because I was irrationally scared of losing her.

It hit me then that I was off balance. I had this sick feeling in my gut, like something awful was going to happen.

“You can have what you want after work, angel.” her voice deepened, grew raspier. “In the meantime, enjoy lunch with your co-worker. I’ll be thinking about you. And your mouth.”

“I love you, Lauren.”

It took a couple of deep breaths after I hung up to compose myself enough to join Megumi again. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Everything all right?”

“Yes. Everything’s fine.”

“Things still hot and heavy with you and Lauren Jauregui?” She glanced at me with a slight smile.

“Umm . . .” Oh yes. “Yes, that’s fine, too.” And I wished desperately that I could talk about it. I wished I could just open the valve and gush about my overwhelming feelings for her. How thoughts of her consumed me, how the feel of her beneath my hands drove me wild, how the passion of her tortured soul cut into me like the sharpest blade.

But I couldn’t. Not ever. She was too visible, too well known. Private tidbits about her life were worth a small fortune. I couldn’t risk it.

“she sure is,” Megumi agreed. “Damn fine. Did you know her before you started working here?”

“No. Although I suppose we would have met eventually.” Because of our pasts. My mother gave generously to many abused children’s charities, as did Lauren. It was inevitable that Lauren and I would’ve crossed paths at some point. I wondered what that meeting would have been like—her with a gorgeous blonde on her arm and me with Cary. Would we have had the same visceral reaction to each other from a distance as we’d had up close in the Crossfire lobby?

she’d wanted me the moment she saw me on the street.

“I wondered.” Megumi pushed through the revolving lobby door. “I read that it was serious between you two,” she went on when I joined her outside on the sidewalk. “So I thought maybe you’d known her before.”

“Don’t believe everything you read on those gossip blogs.”

“So it’s not serious?”

“I didn’t say that.” It was too serious at times. Painfully, brutally so.

She shook her head. “God . . . listen to me pry. Sorry. Gossip is one of my vices. So are extremely hot women like Lauren Jauregui. I can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to hook up with a gir whose body screams sex like that. Tell me she’s awesome in bed.”

I smiled. It was good to hang out with another girl. Not that Cary couldn’t also be appreciative of a hot guy, but nothing beat girl talk. “You won’t hear me complaining.”

“Lucky bitch.” Bumping shoulders with me to show she was teasing, she said, “How about that roommate of yours? From the photos I saw, she’s gorgeous, too. Is she single? Wanna hook me up?”

Turning my head quickly, I hid a wince. I’d learned the hard way never to set up an acquaintance or friend with Cary. He was so easy to love, which led to a lot of broken hearts because he couldn’t love back the same way. The moment things started going too well, Cary sabotaged them. “I don’t know if he’s single or not. Things are . . . complicated in his life at the moment.”

“Well, if the opportunity presents itself, I’m certainly not opposed. Just sayin’. You like tacos?”

“Love ’em.”

“I know a great place a couple blocks up. Come on.”

* * *

Things were going well in my world as Megumi and I headed back from lunch. Forty minutes of gossip, guy-ogling, and three awesome carne asada tacos later, I was feeling pretty good. And we were returning to work a little over ten minutes early, which I was glad for since I hadn’t been the most punctual employee lately, even though Mark never complained.

The city was thrumming around us, taxis and people surging through the growing heat and humidity as they crammed what they could into the insufficient hours of the day. I people-watched shamelessly, my eyes skimming over everyone and everything.

Men in business suits walked alongside women in flowing skirts and flip-flops. Ladies in haute couture and five-hundred-dollar shoes teetered past steaming hot dog vendor carts and shouting hawkers. The eclectic mix of New York was heaven to me, stirring an excitement that made me feel more vibrant here than anyplace else I’d ever lived.

We were stopped by a traffic light directly across from the Crossfire, and my gaze was immediately drawn to the black Bentley sitting in front of it. Lauren must’ve just gotten back from lunch. I couldn’t help but think about her sitting in her car on the day we’d met, watching me as I took in the imposing beauty of her Crossfire Building. It made me tingly just thinking about it—

Suddenly, I went cold.

Because a striking blonde breezed out of the revolving doors just then and paused, giving me a good, long look at her—Lauren’s ideal, whether she’d been aware of it or not. A woman I’d witnessed her fixate on the moment she’d seen her in the Waldorf Astoria ballroom. A woman whose poise and hold over Lauren brought out all my worst insecurities.

Corinne Giroux looked like a breath of fresh air in a cream-colored sheath dress and cherry red heels. She ran a hand over her waist-length hair, which wasn’t quite as sleek as it’d appeared last night when I’d met her. In fact, it looked a little disheveled. And her fingers were rubbing at her mouth, wiping along the outline of her lips.

I pulled my smartphone out, activated the camera, and snapped a picture. With the proximity of the zoom, I could see why she was fussing with her lipstick—it was smeared. No, more like mashed. As if from a passionate kiss.

The light changed. Megumi and I moved with the flow, closing the distance between me and the woman who’d once had Lauren’s promise to marry her. Angus stepped out of the Bentley and came around, speaking to her briefly before opening the back door for her. The feeling of betrayal—Angus’s and Lauren’s—was so fierce, I couldn’t catch my breath. I swayed on my feet.

“Hey.” Megumi caught my arm to steady me. “And we only had virgin margaritas, lightweight!”

I watched Corinne’s willowy body slide into the back of Lauren’s car with practiced grace. My fists clenched as fury surged through me. Through the haze of my angry tears, the Bentley pulled away from the curb and disappeared.

[foreverthesickestkidz]

I’ll put a summary here L8er

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten

warnings: cursing, murder, torture, mentions the words domestic abuse & rape

masterlist | guidelines | lullaby m.list

August was an unusually stressful month for you, given your circumstances. Moving away from home, back to Eclipse University, into your small, lonesome apartment was not all that exciting. Starting your last year of law school wasn’t exciting either. A new year meant two new semesters full of tough courses, a paid internship, and the dreaded Bar exam at the end of it all. Stress was eating at you all summer as you tried to prepare yourself for this last year of schooling before fully entering the real world. The one thing you always looked forward to when coming back to this little college town though, was seeing Bambam.

“Y/n! Long time, no see!” Bambam, your beloved best friend, practically screamed the second he laid eyes on you entering his department store.

You giggled, accepting the bear hug he was pulling you into. “Hey B, I missed you so much!” As you pulled away you noticed him look you up and down and shake his head.

“Damn, girl. Did you get hit by a bus this summer? You look like hell,” he raised an eyebrow. You lightly smacked his shoulder and laughed.

“No! It’s just been really stressful lately. And I literally just moved all my stuff back into my apartment, okay!”

Bambam noticed another customer enter the store then, looking over your shoulder rather than at you.

“I wasn’t too sure if you’d be here actually, B. I was gonna call and make sure before I walked all the way here, but I decided to make it a surprise,” You explained, moving to the side so he could walk past, following close behind.

Bambam never let an opportunity to make a customer glamourous pass, not even for his best friend he hasn’t seen in months.

“Oh yeah, I just got back actually. I hosted a fashion show in Milan last week, but I’ll be here for another month maybe,” He explained as he reached the young lady browsing the racks of his expensive, well designed blouses. He turned away from you to greet her, so you decided to leave him be, and just call after he closed the shop for the day. After giving a small wave to Bambam as you walked out the shop, mouthing a ‘I’ll call around 7’ as to not interrupt the client, you wandered back into the streets of Eclipse. The August sun was strong, and you noted the nice weather as you passed by the other shops and restaurants of Downtown. Bambam’s shop was only about a fifteen minute walk from your apartment, but in the heat, it seemed like ages. So, you decided to stop at a little ice cream parlor before heading all the way back into campus.

Kim’s Ice Cream was practically empty. Upon walking in you noticed two things immediately, the first was that they didn’t serve chocolate ice cream, the second was the only other customer present in the building. He sat in the corner with a half melted milkshake in front of him, watching something intently out the window. So, curiosity got the best of you and after settling for the next best ice cream flavor (second to chocolate), you wandered over to his table.

He seemed to notice you immediately, which wasn’t that abnormal since you were the only other customer there. But, he looked up and cocked his head to the side, almost like a questioning puppy.

Smiling, you greeted him, “Hey, is this seat taken?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, and shook his head. “No, no. Please,” He motioned towards the empty seat across from him, and finally returned the smile.

“I’m Y/n. I just happened to notice you watching something outside,” you nervously laughed, “Curiosity sort of urged me over here to ask what it was.” Upon finishing your sentence, you ate a spoonful of ice cream. He looked up and made complete eye contact with you for the first time. His eyes were full of focus, and deep with thought.

With a lazy grin he licked his lips and answered. “Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”

With a nod and a soft smile you quickly replied “But the cat knew the truth.”

He raised an eyebrow and shook his head with a laugh. “I was watching the birds. I’ve always found them so intriguing,” He glanced outside once again, and looked back with a darker twist in his large pupils. You always noticed the smallest things about people, and the eyes ahead of you were certainly the eyes of someone hurting.

“I’m Mark” he stuck his hand out for you to shake. Calloused fingers and bruised knuckles engulfed your smaller hand.

****

Several hours after the introduction, you found yourself laying in bed wide awake. While finishing unpacking you grew tired, but somehow you can’t seem to fall asleep.

With a frustrated sigh, you reached to the nightstand to pick up your phone and check the time. Seeing 4 unread texts from Bambam, you decided to read and respond, it wasn’t like you were going to get any sleep anyway.

-Sorry you had to leave earlier I had to glam that bitch

-Hey idk if youve seen the news but theres some scary shit happening in eclipse rn, you should be careful ok?

-? y/n

-Y/N!!!

You shook your head and rubbed your eyes. The last text was only sent five minutes ago, maybe Bambam was still awake. You decided to turn the news on before calling him.

“Residents of Eclipse please be extra cautious! Breaking News reports a string of murders throughout the town, focused around Eclipse University’s campus. We’re reminding all citizens to lock your doors, and remain calm. We all need to stick together at this time.”

Your eyes grew wide as you flung the blanket from your form and ran to your front door. Locking the deadbolt, you immediately FaceTimed Bambam.

“Bambam! What the hell is happening?” You almost yelled through the phone.

“Shh shh, calm down. It’s okay, you’re okay,” he comforted you with a soft tone. Bambam always knew when your anxiety flared up, and stayed gentle with you to help you calm down. He stayed on the phone until he knew you were alright.

“Just remember to be careful, y/n.” He whispered after a while, and you finally managed to fall asleep.

Bambam huffed as he hung up the phone. The truth was that he was terrified. He knew he would be alright, he owned a few guns and he was away from Eclipse for weeks at a time anyway. But, he also knew you didn’t live the same life as him. You didn’t own any weapons, you were stuck here, and you trusted far too easily. The murders sent shivers down Bambam’s spine and his head started to ache at the thought of his best friend in danger. Worried hands typed vigorously on his phone as he dialed the phone number of the one person he hated most. He knew that despite his hatred, this person would be the only one close enough to you that Bambam trusted to ensure your safety when he left.

“Bambam? What the fuck do you want? It’s three in the fucking morn-“ Jackson’s voice was husky and rough after being awoken.

“Shut the fuck up and listen.” Bambam was already annoyed with the boy on the other line.

Jackson scoffed and rolled his eyes, despite Bambam not being able to see.

“Have you seen the news?” Bambam ran a hand through his hair and walked out onto the balcony.

“Yeah, if you’re calling to accuse me of any shit I won’t hesitate to block you.” Jackson’s defensive tone was enough to piss Bambam off.

“I’m not accusing you of anything. You might think you’re tough shit but you’re no killer. I’m calling about y/n”

Jackson’s ears perked up at hearing your name.

“Y/n? What about her? Is she okay?” His voice suddenly grew softer.

“She’s fine. But, I’m worried about her. You know how she is, and I’m not sure how I can make sure she’s safe when I leave Eclipse,” Bambam sighed. “That’s why I called. Me, you and Yugyeom don’t get along, but I know you both care for her as much as I do.” A slight breeze caused him to shiver.

Bambam heard rustling on the other end of the line.

Jackson pulled his shirt on and tied his shoelaces.

“When are you leaving?”

Bambam looked out over the silent town, and shook his head to himself.

“Soon,”

Jackson grabbed his keys and reached for the doorknob.

“She’s in good hands, Bambam.”

The line went dead as Bambam leaned his head back, eyes closing.

“She damn well better be. She’s all I’ve got in this world.” He whispered softly to the wind.

Jackson pulled the door of his Corvette open and slipped inside. The curfew didn’t let up for another hour, but he needed to see Yugyeom. His best friend needed to know what Bambam called about, and he wasn’t sure how Yugyeom would react to the prospect of seeing you again. Shifting gears, he sped away in the direction of Downtown.

Yugyeom opted to move to Eclipse permanently after his first semester of law school. His home life wasn’t ideal, and he was happier here than there. His little house on the corner of Main Street and Downtown boulevard was perfect for him. He was in a deep sleep when he awoke to the sound of constant banging on his door. Groaning and reaching for the 9mm pistol in his nightstand, he pushed himself up and rubbed his eyes. He opened the front door to be met with the worried eyes of his best friend.

“Fucking hell, bro. I thought you were a murderer or something!” Yugyeom furrowed his eyebrows as he let Jackson in.

“Funny you mention that…” Jackson rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I just got off the phone with Bambam.”

***

Mark held the printed photograph up next to the sorry male in front of him. The picture matched the guy perfectly, and with a dark chuckle he licked his lips.

“I knew I’d find you.”

The man roughly jerked against the belt that secured him to the chair. Flailing helplessly to try to break away, screaming into the duct tape secured on his mouth.

“Stop trying to break away. Nobody will help you.” Mark cocked his head to the side, grinning at his prey. The man’s muffled screams began again. Mark pulled up a chair and sat in front of him. The only light came from an exposed lightbulb hanging from the ceiling above them. The lighting created a halo above the bloodied man. How ironic.

“I have some questions for you, before I have some fun, so you just nod or shake your head in response. And if you lie, you’re gonna regret it.” He held up a knife in one hand, and a gun in the other.

“This is how this is gonna work, I’m going to ask a question, you will truthfully answer me. If you cooperate, I’ll use this,” he held up the gun, pulling the slide back, “if you don’t cooperate, I’ll use this,” he held the knife up again, skillfully spinning them through his fingers. The man’s eyes widened in fear.

Mark’s eyes gleamed with excitement.

“First question! Have you ever seen this girl?” He held up another printed photo of a smiling young woman. The man vigorously shook his head.

“You fucking LIAR!” Mark screamed the last word. He rolled his eyes and stood from his chair.

“You lied straight away! Nobody ever lies from the first question!” He laughed out, and ripped the duct tape from the man’s mouth.

“Now, count backwards from 100 in sets of 3,” Mark pressed the knife against the bottom of the man’s pinky finger.

“Fucking count!” Mark screamed in his face. He began counting as Mark sawed away at his fingers. Blood dripped down the armrest of the chair and onto the rotting carpet. Mark was in euphoria. The red color was glittering under the harsh lighting and the smell made his grin a little wider.

Many hours into Mark’s fun he grew bored and decided it was time for judgement. The man was on the very brink of passing out anyway, and the smell of blood started to give Mark a headache.

“Alright, man. I’m done.” Mark huffed out. The man looked almost relieved. ”I hereby render you guilty of domestic abuse, and the rape of Yang Jimin. I sentence you to death.” Mark smirked at the man’s appearance, and inability to speak after having his tongue ripped out. He untied the man and laid him out on the floor. He began softly singing, “Lay thee down now and rest, may thy slumber be blessed lay thee down now and rest, may thy slumber be blessed,” he pulled the gun from his pocket and pressed the barrel to the man’s forehead. “Lullaby and goodnight, thy mother's delight, bright angels beside my darling abide,” He pulled the trigger, blood splattering over his face and clothes. Humming the song again, he brought the knife to the dead man’s stomach. After etching the word “goodnight” in scratchy rough lettering, Mark shook his head.

“Justice is served,” he chuckled and pulled matches from his pocket. Picking up the gasoline in the corner, he walked around the tiny raggedy house, lighting his cigarette with a match before pitching it behind him, walking away and disappearing into the night.

***

Morning light drifted through your blinds when your alarm rang. You blinked your eyes open and yawned before turning the annoying noise off. Stretching, you got up and got ready for the day. You only had one class, but after you had to report to your first day of interning with Eclipse’s best attorney, Lee Kwang, who also happened to be your professor. Upon walking to your car, you never expected to see the familiar black Jeep parked next to your little blue Corolla.

“Kim Yugyeom. It’s been a while,” you smiled halfheartedly to the owner of said Jeep.

“We need to talk.” He seemed on edge, but you figured it was because the last night you spoke in person was a night everyone involved wished to forget.

You unlocked your car and opened the back door, dropping your backpack in the seat. “There’s not much to talk about.” You looked anywhere but at him.

“I talked to Bambam last night,” he leaned his back against the door, arms crossed.

The realization hit you a second later.

“No. Absolutely not. I don’t need anyone’s protection. I’m a grown woman.” You seethed at the thought that these boys saw you as someone so weak.

“It’s not about that, y/n. We just care about you,” he tried to reason with you.

“Who cares about me? Because you and Jackson are the last people who act like they care about me.” You shook your head to stop tears from falling. Slipping into your car, you pulled away from the parking lot.

***

Mark’s eyes met yours the second you walked into the law firm. He waved and smiled as you walked towards him.

“Hey! I never thought I’d see you here!” You beamed at the boy you met yesterday.

“Yeah, small world. I was just on my way out, but before I go, I just, I forgot to ask back at the ice cream shop,” he blushed a little and scratched the back of his head. “Can I maybe, get your number?”

Your face flushed red, yet you smiled widely.

“Yeah! Of course!” You reached for a pen and scribbled numbers onto a sticky note.

“Thanks, I’ll call you later!” He smiled as he walked away.

You took a deep breath and knocked on Professor Lee’s door, not noticing the way Mark looked back at you as he left the building.

[lucas-lowe]

TASK 2: IN THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER

July 2010.

Luke idly glared at the retreating dark of the dawn. His stomach let out a pathetic growl, or more accurately, a dying squeak. There comes a point in starvation where you can’t even sleep because of the hunger, and Luke was far too familiar with that pang.

The earth beneath his back was stiff and cold like a cadaver, and he could not think of a reason to get up. His head knew he should go look for food, something to eat-- like one of those small rat like creatures he saw in the woods, a fish swimming in the stream, the berries he ate a few days ago that made him threw up all night. Anything. If he couldn’t find anything to eat, he at least needed to get water. But no, his body didn’t want to move.

Luke coughed off a weak laughter, wheezing at this madness. He was stranded in some kind of an island, like that guy Crusoe in the book, with a group of lunatics who were probably in some cult-- something about elements and the First and not aging. As soon as his ankle healed, he slipped out of the camp and made his way to the west edge of the land. 

The trouble was, Luke didn’t know a thing about surviving in the nature. He was a city boy through and through. Even when he was without a home, he could have dumpster-dived and scavenged for food in the city. No such option on this godforsaken island. He didn’t know how to hunt or fish, didn’t know what berries are edible or not. He couldn’t even start fire for fuck’s sake.

Perhaps he should have stayed with the cultists, learn a thing or two about the island living. But no, his tendency to isolate himself got to him again, and he would probably die out here.

December 1997.

The night descended on the open road, breathing down the chilled air on his neck. The cold crept up to his blistered feet, seeped into his shivering bones, and he feared that he was marked for life. The ghost of a white breath danced before his eyes before vanishing without a trace. A raggedy backpack, a half-empty water bottle and a few pieces of clothing were all he had.

Empty-handed and alone, yet he had persisted for almost a year on his own. But for how long? He ran out of his saving months ago. He doubted that his family was looking for him-- if they ever bothered to, that is-- but he couldn’t be too careful with the Lopes. He couldn’t live on the streets forever, either. That’s why he was bound westward, to find a better life for himself. Start anew.

No car had passed by for hours, so he had given up any hope of hitchhiking to the closest town, and had started walking. He was under no illusion that he would get anywhere like this. It was just that he had nothing but his own two legs, and walking was all he could do.

He stopped to catch his breath as his bad leg started to ache. “What the fuck...” he said out loud just to remember his own voice. What the fuck am I doing? Since he couldn’t afford a bus ticket, he reasoned his options were either hitchhiking or walking. But this was his only pair of shoes and it had already started to show wear and tear. He didn’t even own a map so he just had a vague idea that he was heading west. He was, absolutely and completely, un-fucking-prepared for this journey.

A shaky sigh escaped from his cold, empty stomach as he dropped his backpack and flopped down next to the empty road. Up above his head was the cruelly brilliant sky full of stars, and the vast wilderness stretched as far as he could see, but his eyes lingered on the cracks of the asphalt. He knew there was nothing for him out there-- no star watched over him, no light guided his path, and no one was coming to save him.

He had nowhere else to turn but himself.

He should feel sad, or scared, but all he could do was laughing at himself. The truth of the matter was, he was far too talented at isolating himself in a self-destructive way. He knew that. He could have easily asked for a help, but he didn’t. He could have picked a safer, less strenuous journey, but he didn’t. He simply didn’t know how to exist any other way.

The stars burned bright above. He just didn’t look up. There were lights in the distance. He just closed his eyes. Maybe, and just maybe, someone was out there waiting for him-- he just refused to believe that. That very thought scared the life out of him. It was so much easier to hide alone in the dark, not found, not missed, not needed and wanted and loved. No one could hurt him if they couldn’t found him.

So how could he not laugh at himself? This was his own fault, no one else’s.

He breathed in the frigid, forlorn air, let it filled his lungs, and got back up to his own two feet. He stretched his creaking legs, cracked his neck, and turned his eyes forward.

He dug himself into this grave and laid himself down. So it was his job to claw his own way out.

May 1995.

[tw: gun, death]

The sun came up nevertheless, even after a sinful night.

Almost everyday, he watched the frozen colors of daybreak painting the sky. Waking up in the morning, on his way to the training or on the track, he had seen it until it became a part of his routine. But until today, he didn’t realize how painstakingly beautiful it was.

A man just died by the hands of another, yet the dawn was terribly radiant.

“You okay there, kid?” asked Pablo as he lit a cigarette. Pablo was a tall guy with the unkempt, bushy beard, and always smelled like a mix of smoke and horribly musky cologne. He was one of Father’s henchmen, the trusted kind.

Leaning against the hood of the car, he fixed his dry eyes on the sunrise without words. He didn’t know how he was, to be honest. He could still taste the last night’s dinner in his throat after throwing it all up. His body was sore and he could use a shower or ten. So no, he wasn’t okay. 

They had arrived at this riverbank a few hours ago as three. Now they were only two. ‘Take care of it’. That was Father’s order. 

He quietly ran a thumb on his blistered, dirt-covered palm.

-----

“You know how to use this?” Pablo asked, holding out a grip of a loaded gun. They stood over the brand new grave in the field, both of them covered in sweat and dirt. He never liked guns. Having the weight that could end someone’s life in his hands wasn’t exactly pleasant.

And then Pablo dragged out the third man from the trunk of the car. Blindfolded, tied and gagged. Pablo forced them down on them knees. Their bloodied head and shoulders were shaking uncontrollably. They reeked of desperation and piss, squeezing out a muffled, incomprehensible plead.

He unlocked the safety and cocked the gun just like his brother taught him. ‘Man, your aim’s terrible.’ He remembered Leandro’s crooked laughter when he had managed to hit none of the beer bottles set up as practice targets. He brought the gunpoint up to the back of the captive’s skull. The shudder crawled up the barrel and grasped at his hand like barbed vines.

The cry morphed into a terrible howl, held back only by the spit-soaked gag. It begged and begged and begged for mercy, while spewing fear and rage and curse.

And he wondered, do any other animal beg for their life? Do they experience the same primal hatred that burns in your chest, the ashy black smoke of grudge you exhale at the one who holds your noose? Not just the instinct of self-preservation expressed in aggression, but the acute malice humans carry like a venom.

Because he wished he couldn’t understand what was buried underneath the scream.

Please, I’ll do anything.

He wished he couldn’t feel a thing.

I don’t wanna die.

His finger wrapped around that trigger and--

He lowered the gun, only to realize that he was covered in cold sweat. He couldn’t pull it. It wouldn’t take much force to squeeze that trigger. Just a tiny movement of the finger, and the gun would roar, and all this would be over. That was the impossibly thin line he couldn’t cross, the infinitesimal difference between a man and a killer.

He fumbled at the safety, shivering. His hand was locked in place and couldn’t let go of the gun.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay,” said Pablo, approaching him gingerly. A much bigger hand gently peeled his off the gun.

He stumbled backward as his knees gave in. The captive was now sobbing. From relief or panic, he couldn’t tell. But before he could process it, he heard the mechanical click, followed by a gunshot. With his ears ringing, he stared blankly as the headless body fell into the grave with a thud.

-----

“For what it’s worth,” Pablo started, polluting the fresh morning air with his cloud of smoke. “I thought this whole thing was fucked up.”

He didn’t reply, staring at the sunlight shattering against the surface of the murky river. No speck of cloud wandered in the sky above, and it would be the perfect sunny day of May. The air smelled of cigarette and late night rain. Three or so ducks swam about in the water, quacking without a care in the world. No care at all.

“Hey, don’t worry about your father,” Pablo blurted out. “I’m not gonna rat you out.”

“...okay.” He wasn’t particularly worried about Father. He thought whatever would happen would happen. What he didn’t understand was why would Pablo take a risk like that. He was just too tired to question it. “Thanks.”

The weight shifted as Pablo walked over to his side and sat down on the hood of the car. “Want some?” He extended a stick of cigarette.

He stared at the wrinkled packet in Pablo’s big hand, and then back toward the river. “I can’t.”

“What? You’re old enough.”

“No,” he said, “I run tracks. Can’t fuck up my lungs with that cancer sticks.”

“Oh,” Pablo thought for a second before putting out the cigarette. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

Pablo fished out a pack of gum instead. Without asking, the older man handed one over to him. Instead of unwrapping it, he just stared at it in silence. It was mint. 

Disgustingly, his empty stomach demanded food with a grumbling. He recognized in a sick sense of detachment, that nothing had changed. The morning still came. The sky didn’t collapse. They could still talk about insignificant things. He still wanted a breakfast. Maybe no red meat, not at least for a few days, but he was still hungry.

And that moment, he realized that absolutely nothing would change if he were to die. The world would continue regardless.

July 2010.

Luke jolted out of his sleep. Groaning, he forced himself to sit up and rubbed his forehead. He couldn’t have been out longer than a few minutes. The sun was still rising toward the east, and the sky was ablaze with cold amber. He rose to his feet and dragged himself toward the western cliff of the island. Might as well watch the sunrise, he thought. 

Just when he reached the end of the land, it occurred to him that he should have gone toward the east for the sunrise. His brain must have gone on a hunger strike or something. 

Standing by the edge, he looked down into the mouth of the ocean, its jagged teeth and dark depth. That’s a long way down, he thought. The ocean collided into the land and shattered, crying out in the cacophony of waves. The light was yet to reach this side of the world, but gradually and surely, the boundless firmament was waking up. From the fading darkness emerged thin whisks of clouds. He sat down by the cliff, and aimlessly watched the clouds traveling westward, toward the horizon and beyond.

Even on this god-knows-where island, the world was as always infuriatingly and unabashedly beautiful. It taunted him, a tiny, meaningless blob of existence compared to its marvel, that it didn’t give a damn.

“Fuck my life,” he sighed to himself, laying back down and promptly finding the cliff to be the worst place to lie down. More clouds rushed by him toward the ocean, carried by the salty, lukewarm wind.

Death didn’t scare him-- not in the way it should, anyway. He knew it didn’t matter if he died here or not. He could starve himself to death, eat a poisonous berry, get eaten by a... whatever the fuck that lived in the Jungle, or jump off the cliff-- and the world would not care.

It’s just that, to him, death felt like admitting defeat.

Luke shot his final glare at the audaciously bright sky. He survived his family. He survived the streets-- hell, he was thrown into the ocean with bricks tied to his leg, and that didn’t kill him. Surely, it would take more than an island away from the civilization (and with possible cultists) to kill him.

So he got back up to his feet, as he always did, ready for another day of hunger.

[soundofseventeen]

13 Days of Christmas (Yoon Jeonghan)

Hi! Not much to say but I hope you enjoyed Erin’s update! And this is one of my favorites that I wrote! I’ll see y’all tomorrow! gif credits to owners!

Word count: 2699

“There it is,” you said, gently placing your fingertips against the glass, “Jeonghan’s Christmas present.” It was neither grandiose nor revolutionary but you could guarantee that that record player would light up his face the moment he saw it and it was worth it. You could already picture him buying a table specifically for that and his little collection of records happily on the side. You felt the goosebumps making their way across your body hearing Jeonghan’s vocals as he sang along to his favorite songs. 

Joshua, on the other hand, didn’t look too amazed. “It’s nice…Y/N, it’s really nice, but isn’t the price...a bit much?” He loved his friend, he really did but the thought of spending so much money on him was enough to haunt his daydreams. But then he figured that if ever found someone that would spend as many Christmases with him the way you and Jeonghan did, then maybe he’d understand. After all, you were already dating when he met Jeonghan, but he surprised himself when he saw he got along with you as well, being neighbors and all.

“Joshua...for Jeonghan, too much is never enough.”

“But when was the last time you bought something for yourself?”

You kicked your foot in the air to show him your kicks. “Uh, I bought these four months ago, remember?”

“Yes...I told you to either buy them or I would. You had to justify buying a new pair even though they had a hole on the toe.”

“Not everyone can inherit a family business, Mr. Show Off. Now, are you gonna help me wrap that thing when I get out of work?” You cleaned the prints with the sleeve of your sweater paw, ridding the smudge on the window. You tapped the pocket of the small zipper of your mini backpack, making sure you brought the money with you for the umpteenth time. All your tips and extra cash you had leftover went to the record player. And if the owners had a set schedule, you would’ve bought it and taken it home with you a long time ago. 

“And when are you getting your camera? Don’t you miss taking photos?’

“I can always wait for my next birthday or when I’m not drowning in debt.” You remembered all the unopened film you had at home.

So why are you buying something this expensive for Jeonghan?”

“He deserves it. He’s been working so many hours lately and even though he’s dead tired, he still makes time for me. Honestly, that over there-” you pointed to the antique, “-is nothing to compared to everything he’s done.”

“And you don’t work enough hours?” He had never seen a couple like you and Jeonghan, so young and in love and always putting each other first. It sickened him sometimes and he usually had to be realistic for the both of you. 

“Pfft, I’m pretty sure I’ve been slacking just to make sure I get by. That’s what happens when I decide to get sick..” you mumbled the last of your ranting so he wouldn’t hear you. Getting sick around this time of year hadn’t been an option and it still happened and it made you hate your immune system for making you suffer.

“Why not just move in with Jeonghan already to save costs? You’ve been together long enough.”

“I don’t think we’re ready for that yet,” you admitted. It’s not that the thought hadn’t crossed your mind before; it’s just that there were other things you wanted to do and get on your own before taking that next step.

“Okay so you spend all your money on him...and vice versa, you spend all your free time together, you pretty much spend weeks at each other’s places AND you’ve been together since the dawn of time...but no. Moving in together is too much of a commitment.”

“Oh hush before you make me late for work. Come on. I have annoying customers to attend to. Hopefully, they’ll be generous enough to leave me good tips.”

“‘Tis the season to be jolly,” he raised his coffee cup in a toast and sipped it.

*

“Isn’t she a beaut?” Jeonghan asked Seungcheol on his way to work. He sighed longingly at the Polaroid on display, wanting and wishing so desperately he’d be getting paid today just so could buy you your present right now.

“Very pretty,” he whistled. “I’m sure Y/N will love it.”

He nodded, still remembering the broken-hearted expression you had when you realized that you had forgotten it at the bus stop and he swore he’d buy you another one as soon as he could afford it. “I hope so. Y/N deserves all the good things in this world and I’ll try my hardest to make that happen.”

“You know I keep thinking that maybe one day you’ll realize that you’ll both be happy once you move in together.” 

“We’ve talked about it but we’re not ready for that.”

“So you’re just gonna settle for buying yet another ridiculously expensive present.”

“Y/N needs this. Trust me.”

“And I need someone to help me pay rent because living alone sucks.”

“Didn’t Soonyoung have an opening available?”

“You really want me to have a stroke, huh? Last time he had Seungkwan over at his place...I had to help him scrape noodles off the ceiling.” He frowned. “And Minghao wasn’t pleased about the food stains on his book, so I had to give him my copy.”

“New plan, get into a relationship.”

“Yeah, that’s easy for you to say. You don’t have to worry about all that shit.”

“I got lucky,” Jeonghan shrugged nonchalantly. He turned his attention back to the vintage camera. “That’ll prove it.” He had slowly been saving up for that Polaroid for you, stopping by weekly to give a downpayment, and with this week’s paycheck, you’d surely be getting it tonight.

“Man, you guys are gross,” Seungcheol gagged. “Making me feel lonely with my single ass. Let’s go, Romeo. Otherwise, the only thing you’ll be getting is a pink slip.”

“I really hate Soonyoung,” he grumbled. “He got to be one of Santa’s elves and I’m fucking Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer.”

“And I’m a cashier who has to hear sob stories and threats over discounts that aren’t included with the shit they’re buying.” Jeonghan wasn’t sure if the tears were real or not, but he couldn’t blame him either way.

*

You walked out of the bathroom, still wondering how the smell of coffee made its way into your street clothes. You stuffed your uniform into your backpack, grateful to be out earlier than expected but trying not to think about how you were gonna make extra money before the rent. Tips weren’t too bad but you felt a little guilty for hoping for more. You’d find a way to manage; you always did. 

Your coworkers wished you a happy holiday, as well as thanking you for the gifts and then you went next door to wait for Joshua since he texted you that he’d be leaving soon. The secretaries at the law firm didn’t give you a second glance other than greeting you. They were used to seeing you by now so they let you wait there. Luckily, he hardly kept you waiting so you were back out before the door even closed. He chatted about the potential clients and the ones who stuck out to him. You didn’t know how many cups of coffee he drank on the way to the antique store, but he never seemed jittery. But you guessed it went to you since you were buzzing and speeding up and rushing him to get there faster. You finally left him about half a block away to run inside to get someone to help take the record player to the register to pay the owner.

However, when Joshua caught up to you, you were frantically digging through your backpack looking for the small zip-loc that had all your savings for it. “Where is it?” You dumped everything out on the counter, hoping it’d be mixed in with your uniform or your wallet or anywhere else. “Joshua,” I can’t find it.” You tried not to cry, thinking if you went back to the restaurant, it’d be there in your locker, waiting for you. “I’m sorry, can you just keep this on hold for me? I left my money in my locker at work. I’ll be back with it as soon as possible.”

“I’m sorry, but if someone else wants it, we might have to sell it to them,” the owner said apologetically.

“No, please. I have the money. It’s for my boyfriend. That’s his Christmas gift. I’ll be back in an hour, I promise.”

*

“What do you mean I’m not getting paid?” Jeonghan asked his boss in disbelief.

“No, you’re still getting paid...it’s just delayed a couple of days. And that’s my fault for not seeing that I was overdrafted from one of my payments sooner.”

“And all my coworkers?”

“Are in the same position as you. I-It’s out of my hands.”

“Can’t you just give it to me in cash, sir? It’s an emergency.”

“My daughter just deposited everything that we made today. Jeonghan, I’m truly sorry. How else can I make it up to you?”

“It’s fine. Forget it.” The rush of emotions left him conflicted as he drove home. He didn’t have a backup plan for something like this. He just assumed that after work today, he’d be able to buy you your Christmas gift with no problem. He was pissed that it didn’t happen like that. He knew that banks messed up all the time but he couldn’t believe his luck. He promised you the greatest gift in the world, and now would he provide that? He threw your towels in the washer, knowing you’d want to shower after you got back from visiting your friends at Mingyu’s place. He tidied the room a little, looked for your slippers and made sure he had some ramen in case you came home hungry.

He went back out to the living room, car keys in hand, when he laid his eyes on his records...his most prized collection. A lot of them he had been buying since he started earning his money, and some he got for a really good deal. He always promised himself that one day, he’d get himself one just to be able to play his music. And then when you crossed his mind, he pictured you with the Polaroid in your hands as you took the pictures and in one swift movement, picked up the records and headed out.

*

You never understood how Jeonghan managed to tangle himself up in you but you never complained about it. If anything, you welcomed it because it was just something you liked...unless it was scorching hot and his body heat radiated off of him. “Hannie,” you called him softly. “Hannie, wake up.”

“Five more minutes, my love,” he mumbled. “I’m tired.”

“But Hannie, it’s Christmas! I wanna make you breakfast.”

“Stay with meeeeeee.” He sleepily pressed his lips to your cheek, not quite processing your words.

“Come on. You can sleep in the living room.”

“Jagi, can you make me pancakes?”

“Yes, come on. And take your blanket too so you’ll stay warm.”

“Can we stay in our pjs too?”

“Go nuts.”

He didn’t need his blanket because as soon as he turned on the TV, he woke up and flipped through the channels excitedly, looking for anything that hinted at his childhood. He looked under the Christmas tree, only two presents, a sure sign that they’d gotten older. His heart clenched at seeing his gift to you, which now looked like nothing compared to the one you wrapped for him. He didn’t wanna dwell on that. It was Christmas, you were here with him again and it was perfect. Breakfast too. He loved hearing you humming in the kitchen, and making small talk. He met you on the table but you shook your head and went to the living room and sat on the floor. You patted the spot next to you and you watched the movie playing in silence. You looked like you were in a good mood, and he couldn’t complain. And then you mentioned opening presents and he felt the nerves turn icy in his veins.

“Okay. Do you want to open mine first or do you want me to start?” He didn’t give you the chance to speak since he handed you your and he waited.

You took your time unwrapping it, trying to figure out what he could’ve gotten you. “Is this what I think it is?” You finally decided to tear it open, and you tried not to cry. “It’s a...Polaroid,” you said quietly. You could feel the lump in your throat, touched at the fact that he got it for you. “Thank you.” 

“I know it can’t replace your old one, but I know you missed taking photos. Here, why don’t you take one of me while I open yours?”

“I think I’d rather just capture the moment as is.” You leaned closer to him while he unwrapped his, nearly helping him because of your excitement. 

“It’s a record player,” he said in the same voice you just used. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, I know how you’ve been dying for this and it’s what you deserve. Now, why don’t you put one of your favorite albums so I can hear your beautiful voice?”

He surprised you by taking your hands in his. “Y/N, do you know how happy you make me and how I’ll do anything to see you smile?” He kissed your hands when you nodded and continued. “Yesterday, I wasn’t able to get paid, so I had to sell my records to get your Polaroid.” He didn’t need to tell you that he had to stop at several places because many of the owners didn’t offer the prices he needed to buy it for you.

“Jeonghan, why?” he wiped away a tear that had fallen. Your heart broke at his sacrifice and you felt so selfish.

“Because I love you. Now start taking pictures and hang them up everywhere you can. Your photograph...why are you crying? Jagi, please don’t cry. You're more important to me than those. I can always buy more.”

“Jeonghan, I sold all my film to buy you this record player,” you admitted. “I lost the money I saved up for it and they were gonna give it to someone else. You love music so much and it was the first thing I thought of.”

To your surprise, he started laughing so hard his own tears started falling and then it was your turn to wipe them. “Baby, why would you do that for me?”

“Because I love you. More than anything, even my stupid hobby.”

He didn’t know what else to do, so he grabbed your face and placed kisses everywhere he could until he just held you close to him. He rested you close to his heart, content despite everything. “Man, we’re just a couple of fools, aren’t we?” 

You didn’t answer him, the steady beating of his heart matching with yours. You still couldn’t believe that he loved you this much. And you loved him just as much. You’d already known that you were gonna spend the rest of your life with him, but this just solidified any doubts you may have had. 

“Jagi?” He tried again.

“Hmm?”

“I know this is long overdue and we’ve only talked about this a couple of times, but would you just move in with me already? I don’t know if I can handle being apart from you much longer. It doesn’t to be right away-”

“How about after the new year?”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Jeonghan, after what you did for me...how can I say no? Besides, it took us long enough, right?’

“I love you...so fucking much.”

And I love you...just as fucking much,” you said, placing a soft kiss to his lips.

[letarasstuff]

What makes you beautiful

Author’s note: So yeah, this is my first fanfiction here on tumblr. I hope you enjoy it :)

Summary: Lea is an intern at the Jeffersonian. She meets Finn Abernathy and makes friends with him really fast. But what happens, when she realizes, how wrong she is treated by her boyfriend?

Warnings: Abusive boyfriend, so don’t read it, when you are sensitive to this subject. Language, i think? And bad grammar, English isn’t my first language, so please tell me any errors in it!

3211 words, I am sorry

As a kid, whose parents often fought before they got a divorce, you learn to be scared of seeing other people argue or having an argument yourself.

Now I am a teenager working as an intern, or squintern as Booth likes to call us, at the Jeffersonian. I visit my mother every two weeks for a weekend in Maryland.

So being someone, who despises fighting, your worst ‘enemy’ are relationships. Like, when your partner does things, leaving their socks and underwear all over the house for example, you tell them to stop that in a gentle way to avoid any confrontation.

Maybe you are lucky and your significant other stops leaving their crap everywhere. I wasn't that lucky. My boyfriend screamed at me, saying I only want to change him and that I was invading his private space. From now on every time I ask him to do something nicely, he lashes out on my.

Sometimes, when he is angry or pissed already, Leo slaps or kicks me. I know, it sounds stupid to not break up with him, but I love him and he loves me. We are a good team. I do the chores as soon I get home from school or the Jeffersonian and he teaches me to be the best version of myself.

After a rather exhausting day at school, I am called by Dr Brennan to assist her on a case. It’s an investigation from the FBI. The victim was found in a burnt down warehouse. Now they need us to confirm or to deny, if it is a murder or not in order to do further searches.

After sliding my badge down the security check I go on the platform. I’m greeted by Angela immediately. “Hey Sweetie. Nice to see you. I hope you are still in school”, says she and gives me a hug. Laughing I respond: “No, I didn’t drop out since the last time we saw each other, that was like three days ago?”

Then I put on some latex gloves and bid a “Hello Dr Brennan” to my mentor.

But there is also someone I don’t know yet. “Hello Miss Smith. I’m glad you could make it. This is Mr Finn Abernathy, another intern. I need both of your opinions on this case. The corpse is burnt down to the bone and any evidence is most certainly destroyed. I am not sure if we can find anything at all.”

Then Dr B turns to the guy with the baseball cap, which has the Jeffersonian logo on it, and introduces me: “This is Lea Smith. Although she is still in school and only 17 years old, she has a magnificent knowledge on anthropology.” With a kind smile Finn sticks his hand out for me and speaks: “Good day, Miss Smith. It’s really a pleasure to meet you.”

Well the boy got quite a nice accent. “Why thank you. I really look forward to work with you, Mr Abernathy. Also please call me Lea. I’m barely 17 years old and it's making me feel like I'm at least 30.” Before he has the chance to answer our mentor interferes. After all we got a case to solve!

After many hours of running tests and examining bones, Dr Brennan sent me home. Thankful I say goodbye to everyone just wanting to get finally home.

“How do you get home?” asks Finn concerned. “I take the next bus. We are in Washington DC. Here comes the bus to my neighborhood every 20 minutes in the night”, I answer. Shaking his head he begins to peel himself out of the blue jacket. “There is no way I let you go all by yourself. We are in Washington DC. A young good looking lady like you are as safe as my money in 2009. I drive you home.”

After a while sitting in uncomfortable silence Finn speaks up: “So you are still going to school? Isn’t it a bit too stressful? I mean, Dr B has some tough standards. But at the same time your grates aren’t allowed to drop, are they?”

Looking down to my fidgeting fingers in my lap I answer: “Well a part-time job as a waitress would be much easier. But I need a place, where I have to use my knowledge and mind. It’s like a big puzzle you have to solve. Everywhere are pieces, you just have to find them. Also school is quite easy for me. My biggest problem actually is time. Now it’s 2 a.m. and I have to finish an essay for English in seven hours. So sleep is a sweet thing I have to treasure like a pirate a golden coin, Mr Abernathy.” “That was well said”, he smiles, ”And please call me Finn. It feels off for me to be called Mr by someone, who just told me to stop calling them Miss.”

Now, that the ice is broken, we talk about everything and nothing actually. 20 minutes later we are at my apartment complex. While getting my seat belt off, I turn to my new coworker: “Well thank you for driving me out here. You really didn’t have to do this.” He just waves it off: “I insist. It was really a pleasure talking to you. So go and finish that essay. It’s going to be as amazing as you. And please go to bed as soon as possible. We all need a good

sleep, even you. Sleep tight!” After an awkward hug like thing I step out of the car and open the door to go to my apartment. Before I close the door I wave Finn goodbye.

With a huge smile plastered on my face I open the door to my sweet home. It’s a cozy little apartment I share with my boyfriend. After my parent’s divorce I moved in here with my dad, while my mom went to her new girlfriend in Maryland. When I was 16 my dad wanted us to move back to Germany. He and mom originally are from there. But I wasn’t too pleased with his decision. I had a job as an intern for THE Dr Brennan, a nice school, a few friends and my boyfriend here in the US. In the end he moved out and my boyfriend in. So I kinda life on my own, the big dream of every teenage girl.

Trying to avoid any loud noises I tiptoe in the kitchen. After closing the door silently, I turn on the light. Then I see Leo, my beloved boyfriend, sitting at the table with a cup of coffee. He looks beyond pissed.

“Where were you for fucks sake?!” he asks. Every syllable is pure anger and hatred. That will not end good for me.

“i-i-i was at the lab. Th-they n-needed me for a c-case.” My whole body is shaking in fear. While getting up Leo nearly screams: “And what were you thinking, when you didn’t say something about that to me? I was worried sick!”

Suddenly he pushes me. I fall on the floor, my head banging against the table leg. Leo grabs my hair, throwing my head up violently. I try not to cry.

“I-I am s-sor-sorry”, I sob. But the man just snorts: “I don’t believe that. You know, I don’t want to punish you. But if you wanna be the best version of yourself you have to learn from your mistakes.” With that he slaps my the face and let go of my hair. Forcefully I meet the cold white tiles of the kitchen floor. Then my boyfriend goes away. I hear his footsteps in the hallway and a door opening and closing. He is in the bedroom now.

A tear slips from my eyes finding its way my cheek down. My head is pounding. A few minutes later I get up carefully. Everything spins for a few seconds, but I regain my composure and get my backpack from the hallway. With a massive headache and a hurting heart I finish this essay.

It’s needless to say, that I didn’t get much sleep last night. When my homework was finally done, I had to think about the things I did wrong. Leo’s punishment has to be a lesson for me, therefore I have to analyze my behavior and do it better next time.

While sitting alone in the cafeteria during lunchtime eating an apple, my phone rings: “Smith” “Hello Miss Smith. It’s Dr Brennan. We have a new lead on the victim’s identity. Please come to the Jeffersonian as soon as possible.” Oh well, seems like my next free afternoon isn’t going to be today.

After the conversation with my kind of boss ended, I call Leo. “Hey Sweetheart”, he greets me.

I love this boy so much. “Hey Baby”, I answer breathlessly, “I just wanted to let you know, that I have to go to work right after school again today.” Anxiously I wait for his opinion. “Okay, Sweetheart. But make sure you are home by 10.” Happily I thank him.

A few awfully long periods later I finally am able to leave the hell called school. Not much later I arrive at the Jeffersonian.

“There you are”, Dr Brennan says when I get on the platform. “I’m sorry, but I had a quiz in sixth period.” Then we continue our destiny.

Yes, working with dead bodies is a destiny in my opinion. You have to be born to be able to do this. You must be prepared for anything mentally.

“Hey, I’m sorry I’m late. My granny needed help with her computer, stating she deleted the internet. It’s a lot more difficult to calm down an 80 year old woman than a bag full of puppies”, explains Finn himself.

Dr B nods: “It’s okay, Mr Abernathy. Family is more important than anything else. Please watch it that this doesn’t get to be a routine. You aren’t getting paid for nothing.” Finn takes this advice with gratitude.

“Hey Lea. How went the essay?” he asks me while putting latex gloves on. With a genuine smile I answer: “Thank you for asking. My teacher was very pleased with the presentation of the main problems from George Orwell’s 1984.” My coworker responds with a: “I’m happy to hear that.”

Suddenly I feel like I’ve been struck with a lighting. “I have an idea!” And then I’m on my way off of the platform to Hodgins’ lab.

“Hey Little One! Long time no see, he?” he greets me. I say: “Hello Bug Man! Can you do me a favor?”

Half an hour later Brennan and Booth are out to get the suspect. While waiting for news I sit in the lounge doing my homework. You gotta take every chance you get to do them.

“Oh, what’s that?” Startled by a voice I turn around. “Oh, it’s just you, Finn. Sorry, I’m a very jumpy person”, I explain myself after being reassured, that this voice is from someone, who isn’t going to hurt me. Then I look at what I wrote.

“Oh, that’s just for biology. It’s not that difficult, just something with osmosis and so.” “That’s not what I meant. It makes no sense to me. It isn’t English, is it?” he asks interested.

Then I know Finn is talking about: “Ah, it’s some good old German. I was born in Boston though. My parents moved to the US like 25 years ago. So I still learned their mother tongue. It’s quite important to them that I don’t forget their origin. And now I’m writing this paper in German at first for my mother. Her vocabulary isn’t good enough in specific areas, her knowledge on the other hand is very impressive. So I let her read it and then translate the whole thing in English, her notes indeed.”

The young man has a look of astonishment on his face. “Wow. That’s so cool. Maybe you can teach me some German and something about the culture over there. I can pay you back in showing how to speak with the coolest southern accent the world has ever witnessed!” “Well, hack my legs off and call my shorty. We have a deal!”

Weeks go by and Finn and I become great friends. We tell each other almost everything. He even visits me in school or waits for me so we can do something afterwards. Leo never does something like this with me.

We know each other like the back of our hands. There is one thing I don’t tell Finn though: What happens in my apartment.

Slowly but surely I realize that everything, that is going on in there, is wrong. When my now best friend told me about his past, especially his stepfather, I began to think.

Finn shows me on so many ways, that imperfection is that, what makes you beautiful. He makes me believe I’m already enough. And when I make a mistake, it’s fine. That’s what makes all of us human.

When I finally conclude this construct of beauty, I lay awake next to Leo. I already feel the bruises forming on my body. In this night I don’t get a wink of sleep.

Now that I know the “truth”, I am embarrassed. How dumb am I? Thinking that this guy loves me and keeps hurting me to make me perfect is nuts. It is paradox.

But am I too deep in this mess to get out? Isn’t it too late now? Is this how I am going to live until I am gray and old? Do I want that?

The next few days I distance myself from everyone. I try to spend as little time as possible at the Jeffersonian by saying that I have too much school work or I am sick. Right now I am too ashamed to look anybody in the eyes there. I’m considered as a genius, but I am too stupid to figure out something so simple sooner?

It’s like the third week in a row, that I bailed out on Dr Brennan with the excuse, that I’m sick. This time it isn’t even a lie. My dear boyfriend thought I don’t give him enough attention. So he locked me out on the balcony in the middle of winter. Now I have a fever of like 39° C (102,2° F for you Americans), a massive headache and the worst cold I ever experienced in my short life in general.

Now the 20 years old man is at work, where he has to watch over the same machines on a monitor. So it’s nothing exhausting he is doing for a living. That is why I’m confused when the doorbell rings. I abandon my project for history and open the door. Before I get the chance to register who it is, I have to sneeze. “Oh well, that is a nice greeting. God shall bless you and your poor soul”, says Finn with a look of pity on his face.

“Haha, thank you, Dork. Come in or else I freeze my guts off out here.” I lead him into my apartment. Then I realize something. “May you excuse me, now the nice warmth is gone and I need a hoodie. This way goes to the kitchen. Make yourself comfortable.” And then I bolt for the bedroom.

Now see, I didn’t expect any visits from anyone. So I can go around my habitat without worrying about my bruises. When I’m out I make sure to cover them somehow.

Dressed in a Jeffersonian sweatshirt I go back into the kitchen. When my coworker sees me, he smiles: “Oh there you are. Hold on, is that mine?” With a blush on my face I scratch my neck and respond: “Maybe? I can’t help it, but it’s really comfy.” I finish with a shrug.

Laughing Finn assures me, that I am allowed to keep it. He wanted to ask Cam for a new one anyway. “But my visit actually has another reason than just checking up on you”, the young man tells me while I prepare a cup of tea for the both of us. “And the real reason may be what?” I want to know curiously. Sighing Finn explains: “You distant yourself from us. I thought it was only me, who had this feeling. But yesterday I talked about it with the whole team. Booth misses the ‘only other normal person in the lab’. Cam and Hodgins think, that something bad happened and are so close to emerge into that door to get you out of an emergency. Sweets tells us all the time, that you shut yourself out and that this means nothing good. Angela is ready to kick someone’s ass, if they hurt you. Even Dr B is in need of your comments and ideas while working. We all are worried about you. Please let us finally know what the hell is happening. Why aren’t you answering any of our phone calls? Why aren’t you showing up at the Jeffersonian? You are needed there. Without your person the whole lab is kind of unbalanced like a drunk man on his way home from a pub.” His eyes looks pleadingly into mine.

I couldn’t answer any calls, because Leo has my phone. In his pure rage of not getting enough attention, he took my phone and isn’t willing to give it back to me any time soon.

And that is when realization hits me completely.

Leo doesn’t just hurt me, he controls me. Every move I make I'm watched by him. It’s like living with a personal Big Brother.

I don’t wanna be controlled anymore. I’m sick of not being able to do what I want. I want to be in charge of myself again.

Finally I do the right thing.

I lock eyes with Finn. Without saying anything I roll up the arms of the hoodie, revealing a spectrum of colors.

While waiting for his reaction, tears start to form in my eyes and stream down my cheeks.

Gasping he looks at my injuries. From the dark bruises to the fresh wounds and the healed scars. Lightly he traces along them with his fingers, trying to not hurt me any more. I don’t move. I just show him my greatest act of trust. I trust him with my darkest secret.

Now Finn is crying too. Between sobs he hugs me and whispers into my ear: “I’m so so so sorry, Lea. I’m going to do everything in my power to stop that crazy shit immediately. Nobody deserves to be treated like this, especially you. I promise.”

And he keeps it. After this Finn takes me to the Jeffersonian, where I get an all check up. With the evidence, that is collected, Caroline builds a case against Leo.

It doesn’t matter what’s going to happen. It doesn’t matter how long Leo goes to jail, if he goes there at all. The only important thing to me now is the support I get from my colleagues – my family – who help me every step I take.

[illfoandillfie]

Good Times Are Now

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Fem Reader

Summery: A picnic in the park, what could go wrong?

Warnings: mention of Rog smoking but thats it I think

Words: 1989

A/N: This is my first attempt at something fluffy so I hope it’s okay. I’m fairly aromantic irl but uhhhhh Roger’s got me dreaming about cute dates ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(Title taken from one of Roger’s solo songs cause I’ve been listening to Fun In Space a ridiculous amount this week its so good you need to check it out if you haven’t already)

Taglist: @midniightshow (since you requested the fluff, figured I’d tag you in it)

(this photo may or may not have been on my mind literally the entire time I was writing this oh my god hes so cute what the actual fuck)

You couldn’t believe how slowly the morning was going. It felt like someone had put a spell on the clock to make time creep along at a snail’s pace. Every time you looked up from your work to find that only a minute or two had passed since last time, you groaned inwardly. You knew if you focused on your work the day would go much faster, but you couldn’t help being distracted today. Not only was it Friday, your early day when you got to leave work at one o’clock, but you also had plans to meet up with your boyfriend Roger for a late lunch. He’d got back from tour two days ago and you were both still resenting having to leave each other for more than 5 minutes, especially for something as boring as your job. You’d considered calling in sick this morning and were starting to wish you had. You glanced at the clock again and sighed as you realised just how little time had passed since your last look.

The rest of your day passed as unproductively as the morning had, dragging its heels through a mess of bad coffees and unsympathetic hour hands. But finally, it was time to pack up. You knew that come Monday you would regret not getting much work done but that was a problem for future you. For now, your thoughts remained solidly on Roger and the lunch that was awaiting. You caught the bus to a small park not far from your house where Roger had told you to meet him, your heart beat picking up as you got closer. He was sitting on the rock wall that ran around the perimeter of the park, having a smoke while he waited for you. You watched as he slid off the wall and stubbed out the cigarette under his heel  before coming over to greet you. Just seeing him made you feel a little giddy and, had you been able to pull it off, you would have done a heel-click-jump right there in the middle of the street. Instead you contented yourself with throwing your arms around Roger’s neck, sighing into him as you felt his arms wrap around your waist and your feet leave the floor.

“Hi,” his voice muffled against your shoulder, “missed you,” “Missed you too,” you replied with a small giggle. Neither of you were normally quite this clingy, but the tour had been your first extended time away from each other and it hadn’t been easy on you. This wasn’t his first tour and he’d tried to prepare you for the distance but even with all his warnings about how long he’d be gone for and how he wouldn’t always be able to call, and his reassurances about how he’d be thinking of you, you'd found it hard. Many a night had been spent lying awake in a bed that was too big and too empty. You felt as if you hadn’t slept properly since he left. Roger dropped you lightly to the ground again, his hands slipping from your waist. He turned to pick up something you hadn’t noticed off the wall behind him. “What cha got there, Rog?” “Thought we could have lunch in the park,” he said, indicating what you now realised was a picnic basket, as he slipped his free hand into yours and started walking. Catching sight of the slightly surprised look on your face he continued, “don’t worry, I didn’t try and bake anything myself. It’s all store bought. Not gonna poison you after I just got back.” You couldn’t help laughing as he pulled you further into the park. He clearly knew where he wanted to set up and you were more than happy to let him lead you there, your thoughts a little more focused on the food now that he was within reach again. You passed the playground where harried mothers chatted away, their kids running and yelling, and stepped off the path, winding your way between trees and bushes until, eventually, you made it to a patch of grass under a huge oak tree. It was quieter here, though you could still hear some of the kids’ louder screams. Roger passed the basket to you so he could pull out a blanket and spread it over the ground. You kicked off your shoes, kneeled down and began pulling out the basket’s contents. A few different sandwiches, some biscuits, a bottle of juice with cups from home, and two of your favourite fruit tarts from the bakery you love. Roger sat with his back to the tree. “What d’ya think?” “I think we aren’t going to finish this food on our own,” “Cheeky,” he pulled you down to sit on his lap and tilted your head up so he could lay a soft kiss on your lips. You let the kiss deepen for a moment before pulling away. “As much as I have missed kissing you Rog, I haven’t eaten all day and I’d like to get something before the ants do.” He stuck his tongue out at you. You responded in kind.

The next couple of hours were spent eating and talking. Catching up on everything that happened while you were apart that you hadn’t had a chance to talk about yet. He told you all about the tour, where they’d been and what the crowds were like and all the dumb shit they’d done to keep entertained on the bus. In return you told him all about what your family had been doing, and all the latest gossip from work. Infinitely more boring than his stories, you thought, but he hung on your every word. His hands were never far from you, resting on your knee or tracing patterns over your skin or pulling you in so he could press another kiss to your lips. As the afternoon wore on you found yourself resting your head against Roger’s chest as you both lay on the blanket, looking up at the swaying branches. He had one hand tangled in your hair, the other softly tapping out a beat over your own fingers. You could feel your eyes growing heavy as the months of erratic sleep caught up to you.

The next thing you knew was a cold drop against your forehead. You screwed your eyes shut, trying to work out whether the sensation had been part of your dream. Another drop. Definitely not part of your dream. Your eyes flew open as you sat up and took in your surroundings. The afternoon sun was covered by big black clouds that had rolled in while you napped, and you could no longer hear the kids back at the playground. “Shit,” you pushed yourself to your knees and shook Roger’s shoulder, “Rog, wake up. It’s about to start pissing down, we gotta move.” You were already bustling around picking up the discarded cups and leftover food, throwing it all into the basket as Roger stirred groggily, “wha’s hap’ning?” Before you could answer, the rain began to fall in earnest. “Oh, fuck,” You heard behind you as you picked up your discarded shoes. Roger was on his feet in seconds, hastily folding the blanket and shoving it into the basket. He grabbed your hand and you were both running. You ran as fast as you could over the grass as it got steadily more squishy, the rain picking up with every step. By the time you reached the park entrance you were out of breath and completely soaked through. Roger led you over to the bus stop you’d met him at earlier so you could huddle in what little shelter it provided. You took in his bedraggled appearance – hair sticking to his face and neck, shirt askew and clinging to his chest, a streak of mud across his cheek (though you had no idea how it got there) – and couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up in your chest. “Sorry,” you managed through the laughter, “You just look a little ridiculous.” You reached up to push his wet hair back, but it didn’t help. “You’re lucky you’re so cute,” he said with a playful push on your shoulder.

As your giggles subsided you turned to look out at the street; people hurrying from under umbrellas into buildings, a queue of cars cautiously creeping through the downpour and no end to the rain in sight. “Next bus doesn’t come for another half hour,” Roger said, peering over your shoulder to look at the timetable behind you. “Might as well just walk it, we’re already soaked and I bet it’ll stop before we’re home,” Roger didn’t look convinced. “C’mon, it’s only a few blocks,” you took his hand in yours and tried to lead him back out into the deluge, “it’s just a little rain, it’s not going to kill us.” “Says you. You’re already starting to shiver.” “Even more reason to get moving then.” This time you succeeded in pulling him out of the small shelter. You twirled yourself under his arm, relishing the way he smiled at your antics, before draping his arm around your shoulders. You were thankful for what little warmth you could share through your soaked clothing as you walked along, pressed into Roger’s side, the chill of the rain beginning to hit you.

By the time you’d reached home your teeth were chattering and you were longing to change into your warmest pjs. “What was it you said about the rain stopping before we got home?” Roger said over his shoulder as he fumbled with the keys in the door. “A-at leas-s-s-t it was f-a-a-ster than th-th-e bus-s,” “Christ Y/N. Gotta get you warmed up,” he opened the door and you both tumbled inside. Roger started pulling off his sodden shoes as you headed straight for the bathroom. You turned the shower on and let it heat up as you began removing your wet clothes. You adjusted the taps so they were as hot as you could handle without sustaining burns and stood there, letting the water run over you, gradually warming you back up. Once you’d regained feeling in your toes you stepped out of the shower, wrapped yourself in the fluffiest towel you could find and headed to your bedroom. You dug through your draws till you found the comfiest flannel pyjama pants you owned and your favourite sweater you’d stolen from Roger. It was old and stained and too big for you, but that hadn’t stopped you wearing it nearly every day Roger was away. It was by far the cosiest thing you owned. As you were pulling the sweater over your head you felt Roger’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling your back against him. He’d changed into his own dry clothes but his fingers still felt chilly against your skin. “All warmed up now?” he mumbled into your neck. “Mmhmm. You?” “Could be warmer.” He didn’t give you any time to react before he turned you round and lifted you over his shoulder. You squealed and thrashed your arms, sleeves that went past your hands waving around, as he carried you through the house to the lounge room, both of you laughing.

The rain was still coming down outside, you could hear it beating against the windows, but there was a fire burning in the fireplace and a nest of blankets and pillows on the couch. Roger lifted you back over his shoulder, lowering you to the ground before making himself comfortable on the couch. His back leaned up against the armrest and his legs stretched out over the length of the couch, giving you no choice but to curl up on his lap. Once you were in position, he threw some of the blankets over the both of you. His arms wrapped around you, inviting you to snuggle into him, and he sighed contentedly against the top of your head. “Much better.”

[igottoomuchwriting]

Sincerely Me (Chapter 4)

Part 1/Previous Chapter/Next Part

Evan didn’t want to get up.

After Jared had left yesterday, Evan had a panic attack that lasted for four hours. He was freaking out because if Jared could tell that he likes Connor, does that mean that Connor could tell? If Connor could tell why hasn’t he stopped being friends with Evan? Since when did Evan start liking boys? Was it weird that he had a crush on Zoe and then on Connor?

His Mom had come home right at the end of his panic attack. She was so worried, asking what had happen, that he was doing so well, that it was okay, but it wasn’t.

Evan finally makes a friend who treats him like a person, who actually listens to him, who actually wants to be around him and talk to him and get to know him, and then he has to go and ruin it with a stupid crush.

On top of that, he hasn’t told his Mom about Connor at all. He can’t exactly tell her that he had this friend, got a crush on him—oh yeah by the way I’m bi mom have fun with that—and now he has to work on not ruining that and he has to do scholarship essays so that the can go to a college he doesn’t want to go to and worry about raising funds for a senior party that will set off his anxiety by being around people who don’t remember his name half of the time and it’s starting to feel like the summer—

No. He can’t go back to the summer. She will ask what happen during the summer, what was he feeling during the summer. The truth is hard to believe. She won’t believe that he was fine, he was just stressed, he wasn’t hanging out with Jared because they were busy. She wouldn’t believe that he stopped writing letters because he felt better in nature, that climbing the tree was a impulse decision. A silly mistake.

Sometimes he doesn’t believe the truth.

So here he was, Thursday morning, staring at his wall. He got about an hour of sleep and woke up two hours before his alarm. There was no way that he would be able to handle being around Connor or anyone at the school without having an anxiety attack. Everyone gets so loud and he’s already worrying about everything with Connor.

Maybe his Mom would let him stay home today.

There was a soft knock on his door.

“Evan, sweetie?” he heard his Mom call. “The bus will be here soon. Are you doing okay?”

“I’m not feeling well,” he immediately answered. He looked over at his Mom’s concerned face. Hopefully she’ll believe him.

“Are you sick?” She sat down by his legs, placing a gentle touch.

“In a way,” he mumbled. Sometimes it was hard to lie to his Mom—other times, it was super easy.

She placed the back of her hand against his forehead. She repeated the motion around his face and on his neck and it took all of Evan’s power to not move away. He wasn’t a big fan of her touching his face, or people in general.

“You don’t have a fever.”

“Can I just not go to school?” he begged.

“Evan, sweetie, I know it’s hard, but you need to go.” She gave him a sad smile as she brushed his hair out of his face. He hated that look. “If you miss a day of school, then you’ll be stressed about the homework you missed plus the homework that you had from yesterday. I don’t want you working yourself into a panic attack.”

Too late, he thought to himself. He pursed his lips in disappointment. That was a big thing with his Mom. Evan needed to stay on top of things. Sometimes he was tempted to send her posts he found online about letting your kids have mental health days, but he felt that would cause a fight.

He can’t remember the last time that they had a fight.

“Okay,” he mumbled. “I’ll go to school.”

“That’s my boy!” she cheered. Evan gave her a small smile. She stood up from the bed to let him sit up properly and he followed her up. “I know it’s hard, but I believe that you will be able to make it through!”

“Okay.” She placed a kiss on the top of his head before heading towards his bedroom door.

“Make sure that you are ready by the time the bus is here!” Evan watched the door close behind her with a heavy heart.

---

The bus ride to school did nothing to help calm his anxiety. Today was the day that the Freshmen at the school decided that they were going to be obnoxiously loud—more so than usual—as well as throw things around, successfully pissing off the bus driver. Evan was close to having a panic attack after the bus driver yelled at them. To top it all off, he hasn’t gotten a single text from Connor.

Not usually a big deal, but after his conversation with Jared, every bit of information involving Connor was enough to set him off.

Maybe he could talk to Connor. He could ask if Jared talked to him, and if Connor does know then he would tell him. If Jared didn’t tell him then he would be able to play it off as Jared just being a dick again. It may make Connor hate him more, but it wasn’t like they were going to rebuilding the relationship any time soon.

As he stepped off the bus he made up his mind. He would talk to Connor and find out the easy way if Jared talked to him.

As Evan entered the school, he was a little more alert than usual. He wanted to make sure that he didn’t miss Connor while walking around. It was not Connor that he found, though. He ended up walking behind the one and only Jared Kleinman.

He held his breath. He hasn’t talk to Jared since he came over and he is honestly starting to dread it. Even though Evan already had a feeling that he was bisexual and had a small crush on Connor, Jared was never the best at calmly bringing things up and helping people realize things on their own terms. It’s just a flaw that he has.

He could be going to talk to Connor now. If he went up to Connor than Evan would know. Evan would know and he could leave and cut off communication with Connor before Connor even has time to think about what is happening. He could tell his mom he needs to be homeschooled, the bullying is getting bad. She would be disappointed, upset that her son can’t handle a simple thing like high school but Evan wouldn’t care. He would leave after he graduates and then he wouldn’t have to think about anyone else. Only himself. Just like over the summer.

Jared went into the bathroom. Evan watched anxiously. Would Connor follow? Was this a plan?

Evan stood by and watched from around the corner for about two minutes. Connor stayed at his locker, seemingly ignoring Jared. That’s when Evan let out a breath of relief. Jared must not be telling Connor.

He started walking towards Connor so that they could continue a normal conversation, pretend nothing happened. You would believe me over Jared, right? If Jared told you something? Of course he would.

When Evan was half way down the hallway, Connor closed his locker. He must have seen Evan.

Then he turned around, looking past Evan, and walked right into the men’s bathroom. Evan’s heart stopped.

Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god—

He could feel his breath picking up, his hands sweating, body shaking. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t breathe. All he could think about was Jared and Connor are in the bathroom, Jared looked really confident, Connor was going to talk to Jared—

He had to leave. He can’t be here. If he is here, Connor will talk to him, he will yell at him, call him freak, say it’s weird that he has a crush on a guy he’s known for almost two months after having a crush on his sister. Who the fuck does that?

To Mom: Hey mom can you call the school to sign me out? I feel like I’m going to puke

Easier to say than he was going to have a panic attack. If he told his Mom he was going to have a panic attack then she would ask why and he would have to come out when he just came out to himself and she would try to be supportive but it would come off harsh and cause more panic and he just. Just couldn’t handle that right now.

From Mom: Of course sweetie. Can you walk home?

To Mom: Yes

From Mom: I called. Get home safe. I love you! Xoxo

Again with the ‘xoxo’. Doesn’t matter. Evan can’t focus on that right now. He just needs to get home right now.

---

Evan wasn’t at school today. It wasn’t often that Evan skipped school. In fact, does he ever skip school? Connor can’t remember.

He wanted to ask Jared if he knew where Evan was, but that would be stupid. First of all, he doesn’t want Kleinman to think they are being all buddy buddy now. Second, Evan doesn’t tell Jared shit. He would know even less about where Evan is. Hell, he would probably say in his stupid voice I didn’t even notice he wasn’t here!

Jackass.

He didn’t want to sit in the lunchroom alone with no food where he knows Zoe will be able to see him, so he went on a walk. Maybe too long of a walk.

Might have gotten high, but whose problem is that?

He ended up skipping the rest of school. He only had fifth period and then sixth was his free period, so why not just go home? He would get in less trouble for skipping school than arriving at school high. He didn’t go home until school ended though. He may be suicidal, but even he won’t drive while he is high. He’d rather take his own life, not anyone else’s.

He ended up texting Evan. He had nothing to do while sitting in his truck and he still wanted to know where the boy was, so why not do something productive to his own life?

His sad, angry life.

To Single Scoop: hey were you at school

Connor got a response an hour later.

From Single Scoop: No

Okay well maybe that was a stupid question. Of course he wasn’t at school, Connor didn’t see a sign of him in class or at lunch.

To Single Scoop: were you sick

From Single Scoop: Yeah

He must be sick from anxiety. Evan never gave this vague of answers. He is always worried about hurting someone or people not understanding what he is doing so he’ll borderline over-explain a lot of things.

He doesn’t want to wait any longer. If he waits on asking Evan out, then he will never do it. If Jared is right and Evan does like him romantically then it would be an opportunity wasted.

To Single Scoop: can i talk to you after school tomorrow

From Single Scoop: Yeah

Good. Okay. We’re getting somewhere. He wants to talk to Connor. Now all Connor needs to do is think of what to say. How hard can it be?

---

He cannot think of anything to say.

He stayed up late last night trying to think of calm, collected, genuine way to ask Evan out. He watched some shows where they would ask partners out, watched videos on youtube of how couples got together, he even stole one of Zoe’s magazines to see if they had any help.

None of them helped. Everything was from the woman’s view, of what a woman could do to get a guy to notice her, what guys could do to make a woman happy and make them “fall in love” with them. There was nothing on how a guy could ask out a guy. So now Connor was just going to have to wing it.

He and Evan agreed to meet by his car at the end of school. He wishes they could meet somewhere else instead of a place where kids from their school could see them, disturb them, or eavesdrop on their conversation, but this was the best that they had. Connor didn’t want to bring him somewhere he couldn’t leave so he would have to say yes. Here is a neutral ground—Connor could hop in his car and Evan could walk home.

It was good. It was fine. Nothing bad could really happen.

All that confidence was thrown out the window when Connor saw Evan making his way towards his truck.

Connor immediately panicked. What does he ask?

Wanna date? Go out with me? I’ve liked you since seventh grade and you made me realize I was gay? No, that’s fucking creepy—

“Connor?” Connor looked up and there he was, Evan Hansen. Why can’t he breathe?

“Hey,” he mumbled. “Glad you made it.” Glad you made it?!

“Yeah.” He looked down at his feet and Connor saw him playing with the bottom of his polo. He could see his big and bulky handwriting that spelt out his name on the side of his cast. “What um… What did you want to uh, talk about?”

Great. Right to the point. No more stalling.

“Well, I wanted to talk to you about… something.”

“Obviously,” Evan laughed.

“Okay, yeah,” Connor sighed. “Don’t get fucking sassy. It’s just…” he trailed off. How the hell does he say this? Is Evan going to be mad that he went to Jared? That Jared shared this secret?

“I like you,” he blurted out. Connor watched Evan tense up. Shit.

“Well, I uh, I would hope so,” he laughed anxiously. He was avoiding eye contact, wiping his hands on his pants.

“No. Fuck,” he cursed gently. Evan being anxious is making him anxious. “I mean I like like you.” What is this, middle school? “Like, a fucking crush or some shit like that.” He doesn’t sound confident in himself. Honestly, he doesn’t know if he is.

Evan was frozen. He seemed to stop moving, stop breathing. He was showing what Connor was feeling on the inside.

There was silence. Neither of them said anything. Connor was getting ready to blow with every second that ticked by. He wanted push Evan away, yell at him, scare him off, anything. He hated opening himself up to other people and he just couldn’t live with someone knowing this secret about him.

Evan finally mumbled something under his breath, thought Connor couldn’t hear him.

“What?”

“I can’t believe you would play a fucking prank on me!” he snapped. Connor shook his head. First of all, he never hear Evan curse that often, much less in the sense to yell at someone.

And prank?

“What the fuck do you mean?” Connor snapped, ever on the defense.

“I mean, how stupid—” He let out a sad laugh and looked at the ground while shaking his head. “Everyone does it. Maybe I’m stupid. Of course you would do this, because why else? Who wants to be friends with the loser kid unless it is to pull a prank on him.” He finally looked up at Connor and the pain in his eyes made Connor want to kill every person that ever hurt him. “Did Jared put you up to this?”

“What—”

“What a stupid fucking question,” he mumbled, interrupting Connor. “Of course Jared put you up to this! Why else would he corner me in my house? I can’t trust him, I never fucking could, but I trusted you Connor.”

“Evan, would you please—”

“I actually fucking trusted you!” Evan snapped. “I thought people grew out of the ‘asking people out as a joke’ phase Sophomore year, but apparently not! Apparently it’s still super fun to watch the kid who has a panic attack every time he has to answer to his name during roll call get his heart broken because no one actually wants to go out with him, or be his friend!”

“I thought you were better than this Connor. I really thought you wouldn’t be the kind of person to take advantage of me like that, but I don’t know why I thought that.”

“Evan, would you shut the fuck up!” Connor finally yelled. Evan stopped his rambling and looked Connor in the face, both fear and sadness in his eyes. “It’s not a fucking prank, for god's sake!”

“What else would it be?” Evan asked.

“The fucking truth, maybe?” Connor took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair. He needed to fix the situation or this would be the end of he and Evan’s friendship. “I’m not lying! I know—I know it’s hard to believe, and I haven’t given you any fucking reason to believe me, but it’s true.”

“How long?” he asked.

“Since seventh grade,” Connor mumbled. It’s so fucking embarrassing.

“Seventh grade?”

“Yeah! I know,” Connor snapped. “I fucking know, it’s weird. It’s really fucking weird, but you were… definitely someone that helped me figure out my sexuality. I always had a small crush on you but I never wanted to try to talk to you because I was the freak and I never thought you would want to talk to me. But since we have become friends the crush started becoming stronger because you’re actually fucking nice and care about people, the environment, everyone!”

“I’m not...I’m not that nice.”

“But you are.” Evan was avoiding eye contact. He was still playing with the bottom of his polo.

Evan hadn’t left him standing alone by his truck and that was the only thing that Connor could count as a win right now.

“I need to think about it,” Evan mumbled. Connor nodded his head in understanding.

“Yeah. Okay, that’s fair.”

“I’m sorry, Connor,” Evan rushed out. Before Connor could tell him it was okay, it wasn’t his fault, not his problem but Connor’s, Evan rushed away in the other direction.

Connor watched with a heavy heart. He couldn't blame Evan for just running, for flipping out on Connor for thinking that he was pulling a prank on him. Obviously by the way he has reacted, something like that has been done plenty of times.

He should go home. There was nothing he could do now. Evan was gone and if Connor stayed here a minute longer, he would lash out.

---

“Connor, would you please eat your food,” Cynthia plead for the fifth time that night.

Connor actually decided to sit down with his family tonight because he has honestly been trying to give in to the need to want to be around people he gets very so often. He just forgets that his family will criticize behavior they want to see.

“I’m not hungry,” he mumbled.

“Larry, would you please tell him it’s important to eat.”

“Connor, listen to your mother,” Larry scolded without looking up from his IPad. Connor rolled his eyes.

“Larry!”

“Why are you not hungry, Connor?” Zoe snapped, always fed up with the attention being on Connor. Little does she know that Connor was too. “You should be starving after smoking so much pot.”

“I already told you I didn’t smoke today,” Connor snapped. “I stayed after school to talk to Evan!” Zoe motioned quotation marks as he talked and it took all of Connor’s energy to not throw something at her.

“Zoe, do not antagonize your brother!” Cynthia snapped.

“He’s lying! It’s obvious!”

“Zoe!” Zoe huffed and leaned back in her chair with her arms crossed, glaring at her plate of food.

Connor felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He slipped his phone out of his pocket and looked down at the screen, anxiety festering deep in his chest. There was only one person that would text him at any point of time and Connor had been waiting all evening for him to answer.

From Single Scoop: I thought about my answer and

From Single Scoop: Yes. I will go on a date with you.

From Single Scoop: Not complete partners yet but… I will go out on a date

A bright smile took over his whole face. He doesn’t remember being so happy about something since he was young. Yes he was terrified. He could easily mess this up, whether it be with his mental health, with his simple thoughts, or just by existing. For once though, he was looking on the positive side.

“Connor?” Cynthia called. Connor snapped his head up to his mother to see a confused look on her face. “What are you smiling about?”

“I uh…” he stuttered. “I passed my math quiz.”

Cynthia’s face lit up and Connor felt a little bad at the fact that he lied.

Only a little bit.

“That’s great!” she cheered. Zoe stood up from the table and stormed off, seemingly done with the forced family time that Connor decided to actually take part in. Connor understands her feelings. He wishes he wasn’t related to him either, but they are stuck with each other. He has tried fixing it before, but apparently it was harder than people made it out to be to actually—

Connor stopped that thought process. He didn’t want to think about it right now. He and Evan were gonna go on a date.

If only seventh grade Connor could see him now.

[georgialouisea]

Right Time Right Place

Pairing - Sam x Reader, Lily (ofc), Jamie (omc), Dean, Benny, Cas Word count - 2.8k Warnings - Underage drinking, swearing, hangover, hospital Written for - @spnaubingo Square filled - Police Officer Sam Summary - Your crappy day gets ten times worse when your sister goes missing after a party.

SPN Au Masterlist

Today had been a crappy day, beyond crappy, it was pure shit. You’d slept through your alarm, were late for work only to have your boss dump piles of work on your desk, you were already running late to get home Lily had been texting you every 5 minutes, she was itching to get to her friend's house so she could get to a party.

“That’s forty-six dollars.” The cashier smiled at you as she finished bagging up the last of the food for Jamie’s dinner. Searching your handbag your wallet wasn’t there. “Shit.” Squeezing your eyes closed you could see it back at home next to the front door from when you’d ordered pizza last night to celebrate Lily’s class results. “Shit, okay I’m gonna have to leave it.”

“Oh okay.” The smile fell from her face as you made her job more difficult.

“Let me get it.” A deep voice spoke behind you, spinning you faced a very solid chest. A badge at your eye line. ‘Officer S Winchester’ “Let me pay, how much was it?” The drop dead gorgeous police officer asked the cashier.

“No, it’s fine I’ll just come back later.”

Officer Winchester was already holding out some bills the cashier tentatively took it, handing back his change she started to ring through his bottle of water and bunch of bananas, his total coming to less than $5. Feeling horrendously guilty you grabbed your bags waiting for him to finish paying up.

“Thank you so much, you didn’t have to do that, I could’ve come back later on.”

“You’ve got a kid at home right?”

“How did you -”

“The mini pizzas and fruit roll-ups.”

“Oh, yeah.” Looking down at the bags in your hand you smiled up at him. “Which station do you work at I’ll drop the money off tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry about it, just think of it as a pay it forward kind of thing, just do something nice for someone else.”

“Well I can do that but I really don’t feel right not paying you back.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiled down at you as he held the store’s door open letting you through first.

“Thank you, can I get your name at least?”

“Sam, yours?”

“Y/N, thank you, Sam.”

“No worries, enjoy your night.”

“You too Officer.” Calling across the lot you popped open the trunk of your car dumping the bags in.

Climbing in you checked your phone another 10 messages from Lily, turning the key you heard your car sputter and rattle, trying again more rattling then silence. Red lights flashed up on your dash. “Fuck.” You were at least a half an hour walk away from home, with no money for a bus you were left to walk it. A knock on the window next to you made you jump out of your skin, your hand flew to your chest, heartbeat racing under your fingertips. Officer Winchester was stood next to your car leaning down he flashed you a smile. Opening the door grabbing your handbag and keys you got out. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry, your car not starting?”

“How did you? Why’re you still here?”

“I was having a snack, I usually have the windows open so I know what’s going on around me.”

“Right, makes sense I guess, yeah, no the piece of crap won’t start.”

“Want me to take a look at it?”

“You know a lot about cars?”

“My brother’s a mechanic, he’s taught me a lot.”

“Sure, go ahead if you get it to start it’d be a miracle.”

As hard as Sam tried he couldn’t get it to start, your phone rang from the bottom of your handbag, pulling it out Lily was calling again.

“Hi.”

“Hi? That’s it hi? It’s nearly seven there won’t be enough time to get ready.”

“You’ll be fine, just start at ours then I’ll somehow get you to Maddie’s.”

“Somehow?”

“Listen my car won’t start, I’m trying t get home.”

“Seriously are you trying to punish me or something?”

“No, I’m trying to get home, stop stressing.” She hung up at that.

“Husband?” Sam asked slamming the hood down.

“No.” Laughing you took your keys from him, grabbing the bags from the trunk Sam shut it for you.

“Let me take you home, I’ll have my brother look at your car tomorrow.”

“Why’re you being so nice to me?”

“Well It’s my job, plus you seem like you’re having a shit day.”

“I am, don’t you have criminals to catch and cats to rescue from trees?”

“No and that last parts firemen.”

“Oh, yeah.” You were officially an idiot, a gorgeous man offers you help and you become an idiot.

“Where do you live?” Sam took the bags from you before you could even protest. “Lock up your car and I’ll get you home.”

“Thank you, Sam.”

“Pleasure.”

“So who needs you home so urgently?”

“My little sister, there’s a party tonight she wants to go, she’s looking after my Son, I should’ve been home at five, I was late for work this morning and my boss is an ass.”

“So you really are having a shitty day.”

“Completely, it’s right up here.”

“Which house?”

“The one with the porch light on, 221.”

Sam pulled up outside, helping you out of the car he didn’t stop there, helping you bring the bags in, shutting the door behind you and him. You could hear Lily stomping around upstairs, minutes later she was downstairs with Jamie in her arms. “Here.” She let Jamie down on the couch.

“Here? Really that’s how you talk about your nephew?”

“Sorry, I’m just really late.” She apologised, she’d already started her makeup. “Why the fuck is there a cop in the kitchen?”

“Language and he brought me home.”

“Right, how am I getting to Maddie’s?” She asked trying to blink away the tears as she slowly got worked up.

“I’ll call Seth okay?”

“Thank you.” Wrapping her arms around you she let go before running upstairs.

“Police!” Your 4-year-old son looked up towards Sam who was unbagging the groceries in the kitchen.

“This is Officer Winchester.”

“Why’s he here? Did I do something bad?” He asked his bottom lip wobbling.

“No sweetie, of course, you haven’t.”

“Hi.” Sam smiled at Jamie.

“Hello.”

“What’s your name?” Sam asked crouching down to be at his level.

“Jamie sir.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jamie.” Sam held his hand out for Jamie to shake, he was slightly taken aback when Jamie shook his hand.

Grabbing your phone you called Maddie’s Father who agreed to pick Lily up as soon as he could. Sam was sat talking to Jamie about what it was like to be a Police officer. “Sam you can go, you probably have so much to do.”

“Actually.” He stood up clearing his throat. “I got off shift before I was at the store.”

“What? You’ve just been helping me out of the goodness of your heart?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my God, go home, I bet your girlfriend or wife is pissed as hell.”

“Don’t have one.” Sam shrugged. “I’ll go and leave you to it.” He smiled down at you. “Here.” Pulling out his wallet he handed you a car with his name and number on. “Just in case you have another crap day, I’ll get Dean to take a look at your car tomorrow.”

Grabbing the notepad off the counter you scrawled down your number for him, running into the hallway grabbing the cash from your purse you walked back towards him.

“Thanks, if you need anything call me.” Sam took the money and note from your hand, his fingertips lingering against yours for a little longer than they should have.

“Thank you, Sam, for everything.” Showing him out, you shut the door behind him.

“He was hot!” Lily shouted from the top of the stairs.

“Shut up!”

“What I’m just saying it’s been years since Dan.”

“Lily!”

“No drinks, no drugs, nothing, enjoy yourself and be home by midnight.”

“You’re no fun.”

“And you’re seventeen, just don’t do anything stupid please.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“Love you, enjoy.” Giving her a hug she ran off towards Seth’s car who gave you a little wave before driving off.

Lily had been to a few parties before she was sensible 90% of the time, there was one night she came back drunk, you grounded her and the hangover she had was enough punishment. She learned her lesson, that was months ago she had come back sober every time since then.

-

After dinner you Jamie down for the night you poured yourself a glass of wine before pressing play on a movie you’d waited months to watch you settled in for your Friday night waiting for Lily to come home, you didn’t not trust her you just wanted her home safe. After another glass of wine and a cup of coffee later it was 12:15 no sign of Lily and no text to say she was on her way home. Texting asking where she was it went unread for over 10 minutes. Calling her it went straight to voicemail, texting Maddie you sat waiting for a response. Your heart dropped when she replied that she hadn’t seen Lily for nearly an hour.

‘Can you have a look for her please? And tell her to get her ass home.��

‘She not iin the house checkefd both gardens’ Her reply telling you she was drunk so Lily probably was too.

“Oh my God, where the hell are you?” Closing your eyes you pressed dial.

“Y/N? Is everything okay?” Sam voice deeper than earlier.

“Sorry to wake you, but my sister she’s not home she’s not been seen in over an hour, I don’ t have a car, she - she -”

“Okay, just breathe for me, I’m on my way.”

“Sam you don’t-”

“No, you need help, it’s my job I live like five minutes away just hold on and keep trying to contact her.”

Every call went to voicemail, still no response to your texts.

A knock at the front door Sam stood outside. “Tell me everything.” He took your hand walking in your house he let you lead him towards the couch. Telling him as much as you knew Sam listened to everything his thumb running across the back of your hand.

Walking back in your house without Lily you gave a quick hug to your neighbour Maria who came over to watch Jamie. “Still no sign?” She asked grabbing her coat.

“Not yet.”

“Let me know when she comes home.” She gave you a smile as she showed herself out.

“Do you want anything?” Sam asked sitting on the couch next to you.

“There’s whiskey in the cupboard above the fridge, could you -”

“Anything else?”

“No, but help yourself.”

“On duty.”

“You’re really not.”

A knock at your front door pulled Sam’s attention away from you. Opening the door with the whiskey bottle still in his hand you heard a man laugh. “You’re a shit cop, Sammy.”

“Anything?” Sam ignored the comment.

“No, Benny and Cas are on it.”

“He can come in you know.” You called from the couch.

Footsteps echoed from the hallway as the front door closed, Sam walked in with an equally gorgeous man next to him, Sam left him to go find a glass. “Y/N this is my brother Dean.” He introduced handing you a glass of whiskey.

“Hi.” Dean smiled at you.

“Mommy?” Jamie walked towards you rubbing his eyes. “What’s going on?”

“It’s okay baby, go back to sleep.”

“Can I stay with you?” He asked crawling onto your lap as you put the glass on the coffee table.

“Yeah, okay.” He rested his head on your chest, running your fingers through his hair you looked up at Sam

“We’ll find her, Benny and Cas who I work with are looking for her.”

“Is his Dad around? Maybe he could help?” Dean nodded down at Jamie.

“He’s no … he died when Jamie was six months old, there was a car crash, my boyfriend, my parents.”

“I’m sorry.” Dean looked at Sam. “I’m gonna go back out there, I’ll call if I find her.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry -” He sat down next to you.

“It’s not your fault.”

The front door slammed against the wall a police officer carrying Lily walked in followed by another officer and Dean.

“Oh my God.”

“She’s okay, she’s drunk.” The officer nodded at Sam.

“Where was she?” Sam asked helping you to your feet.

“Few blocks over takin’ a nap in a bush.” The officer went to put her on the couch.

“Don’t.” Sam put his hand out. “We’re taking her to the hospital to check her over, Cas you got a car seat in the trunk?” Sam asked the other officer.

“I’ve got Ben’s,” Dean interjected.

The ride to the hospital was a blur, nothing made sense until the Doctor gave you good news. “She’s drunk that’s about it, no traces of drugs, no signs of sexual assault or any trauma, she’ll be ready to go home in the morning.” She gave you the news you’d waited 3 hours for.

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“Your welcome.” She nodded leaving you with Jamie and Lily.

There was no way you were going to make it till morning without coffee, Jamie was still flat out on the chair next to you snuggled in with the pillows and blankets the nurses had given him. Grabbing your purse and phone you tiptoed out of the room careful not to wake him. Turning towards the waiting room Sam was sat slumped in a chair his head resting against the wall as he slept. Walking towards him you shook his arm gently.

“What?” He blinked up at you. “Y/N, is Lily okay?” He stood up grabbing your arm.

“She’s okay, just drunk, I was going to get some coffee, do you want some?”

“Yeah, I’ll go, what room is she in?”

“308, thanks, Sam.” Walking back to Lily’s room you slumped in the chair next to your son.

Sam knocked on the door. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

“Here.” Handing you a cup of coffee he perched on the arm of the chair next to you. “What did the Doctors say?”

“You can sit down you know or do you have to go to work?”

“I have the day off, what did they say?” He nodded towards Lily.

“Just drunk, no drugs, nothing else she’s fine, thank you for everything, I can’t believe you stayed here, it’s three am Sam.”

“I needed to know she’s okay.”

“Thank you, Sam.”

“It’s my job.”

“You really need to stop saying that, you’ve been extra caring and nice to me.”

“I haven’t.”

“You have and you know it.”

“Alright maybe I have but I’m happy Lily’s okay.”

“Me too.”

“How the hell has he slept for so long?” Sam sat down next to you. “There’s no way normal four-year-olds would have slept through all this, I know my nephew wouldn’t have.”

“He’s always slept like a log, his Dad was the same.”

Sam smiled down at him. “You struck gold then.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Cas and Benny have brought my truck down so I can take you all home later on.”

Sam helped you get Lily to bed she was fine just extremely hungover. Jamie was still fast asleep putting him to down hopefully for a few hours, Sam was tidying up when you walked back downstairs.  

“Sam seriously you can stop that, you’ve done enough to help me in the last twelve hours.”

“Sorry, couldn’t help it.” He looked at the glass in his hand and put it back down on the table. “They okay?”

“Both sleeping, I know I’ve said it so many times but thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Sam? I can never repay you for what you’ve done for me and my family, but do you want to get dinner with me tonight? Only if you want to.”

“I’d love to.” His smile turned into a dimple popping grin. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“I can’t wait.”

“See you later Y/N.”

“See you later Sam.” Smiling at him you showed him out, giving a small wave as he drove down the road.

“See me getting drunk wasn’t all bad, you have a date with the hunky cop.” Lily smirked down at you from the top of the stairs.

“Oh, we’re so having a talk! Get down here!”

“Can we do it when my head isn’t pounding?”

“Nope, get down here.”

“When’s Jamie going to start calling him Daddy?”

Launching a pillow at her head you turned away so she couldn’t see the smile on your face. Who knew the grocery store at 6pm on a Friday was the right time, right place.

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