#her calling pam 'the love of her life' ....shaking crying throwing up

[lesbiangracehanson]

feeling crazy about pam + ellen but . what is new 

[mamaestapa]

Our Little Peanut|| Joe Burrow x reader

•pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

•requested by: @techno54

•summary: Sweet moments with Joe during your pregnancy with Josie (Prequel to Welcome Home)

•warnings: pregnancy, morning sickness, crying, mentions of sex, lots of fluff

6 weeks (finding out)

You were sitting on the couch watching reruns of The Office and waiting for Joe to get home from the grocery store.

You planned on cleaning up the house today since Joe’s parents and older brothers were coming over for a barbecue with the two of you and your parents. However you didn’t get much cleaning done while Joe was gone because you were exhausted.

You don’t know what you did to make yourself this tired. All you’ve done the past couple days is lay around as you were recovering from a migraine that had you waking up every morning for the past week extremely nauseous.

You were watching the episode where Pam is pregnant and throws up as Dwight eats his hard boiled eggs because her stomach is sensitive to the smell.

That’s when it hit you. Could you be pregnant?!

You and Joe have been married for a year now. The two of you weren’t trying to get pregnant, but you weren’t necessarily doing anything to prevent it either. You both agreed that if it happens, it happens. Whenever Baby Burrow was ready to come into your lives, you were ready.

You got up from the couch and went upstairs to yours and Joes bathroom. You kept pregnancy tests in the bottom right drawer, just to keep around in case you found yourself in a situation like this. You pulled one of the plastic tests from its wrapper and did your business. Once you were done, you put the test face down on the counter and waited

It felt like the longest three minutes of your life. With shaky hands, you picked the test up. You dropped the test as your mouth gaped open in disbelief.

Two dark pink lines were in the circle. You’re Pregnant.

Tears instantly welled in your eyes as you picked the test back up and stared at it. You couldn’t stop shaking as you held the test. As you were standing in the bathroom in disbelief, you heard the front door close and Joe calling out for you.

“Hey baby, I’m home!”

You gulped, trying to control your voice but you failed miserably. “Up here!” you called shakily. Joe dropped the bags on the counter and practically sprinted up the stairs at the sound of your uneasy voice. He walked into the bathroom and frowned as he saw your Y/e/c eyes full of tears.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” He gently grabbed your hand and pulled you against his chest, cradling your head as the tears in your eyes poured over. You pulled away, sniffling. Joe’s blue eyes were full of concern as he scanned your face. You pulled away from him and picked up the test from the counter. You held it up to him, not saying anything and waiting to see his response. His eyes widened as he saw the pink lines.

“Are you serious?”

You nodded, more tears welling up in your eyes. Joe laughed in disbelief and pulled you into a tight embrace. You wrapped your arms around his body and squeezed him gently. He kissed the top of your head and pulled away from you, holding your forearms.

“Are you happy?” You asked, fearing that maybe Joe wasn’t excited about this.

“Happy?” he grinned widely, “sweetheart I’m ecstatic.“

A wide grin made its way onto your face as you wrapped your arms around your husbands neck. His arms wrapped around your waist, squeezing you gently. You pulled away from echother and Joe leaned down to give you a loving and passionate kiss.

“I love you so much.” you said, gazing at Joe with complete adoration.

Joe hummed, “I love you so much too.” He placed his hand on your tummy. Even though there was no bump, there was still a baby. “And I love you Baby Burrow.”

10 weeks (morning sickness)

You rolled out of Joes grasp for the third time in the last hour, sprinting to the bathroom. Joe usually wasn’t a light sleeper, but he has been the last couple weeks. Every time you woke up from morning sickness, Joe was right there with you rubbing your back and holding your hair. Joe frowned and followed you into the bathroom.

You retched into the toilet bowl emptying out your stomach, which you were positive had to be completely empty by how much throwing up you’ve been doing. You groaned into the porcelain bowl as Joe rubbed your back, trying his best to soothe you as you heaved. You picked your head up from the toilet and wiped your mouth.

“I hate this.” You said, frowning as you looked over at Joe who was sitting on the edge of the bathtub.

“I know, I’m sorry.” He said softly as he continued to rub your back “But, look on the bright side,” he said, a smile growing on his face, “We’re bringing a baby into this world. It may suck right now, but all of this sickness will be worth it in the end.” He stood from the bathtub and bent down to place a soft kiss on your head, “Trust me.”

You smiled slightly, knowing deep down that he was right. The morning sickness does suck, but you know it’ll be over in a few weeks and it will definitely be worth it in the end.

12 weeks (the bump starts to show)

You were getting ready to go to Joes parents house for the day. His family enjoyed doing family barbecues and get togethers over the summer before Joe started training camp.

You got out of the shower and dried yourself off. Once your body was dry you blow dried your hair, giving your Y/h/c hair a blowout that looked perfect for the summer. You did your usual summer makeup routine before finally slipping into your sundress. As you put the dress on, you noticed it fit a little snug around your belly. You turned to the side, flattening out the dress and looking into the mirror. A wide grin pulled at your lips as you saw your reflection.

You had been experiencing what they call “baby bloat��� for the last couple weeks, but this wasn’t bloat anymore.

Your bump had finally started to show.

“Joe!” You called out, excited for him to see what you were seeing.

“What?” He yelled out from the walk in closet, walking toward the bathroom with his gray jeans and white t-shirt in hand. He walked into the bathroom, tone laced with concern as he asked, “What’s wrong?”

You looked up at him and flattened out your dress, causing the small bump to show once again.

“Look.”

Joe smiled, “Well look at that,” he said in awe, “Peanuts finally making its appearance.”

“Peanut?”

Joe chuckled, “Yeah. I figured the baby needs a nickname, we can’t keep calling it Baby Burrow. Plus, I think peanut is a cute nickname.”

You smiled, reaching out for Joes hands, “I think peanut is the perfect nickname.”

Joe smiled and leaned down on one knee, his hands hovering over your tummy. He looked up at you, blue eyes pleading to let him touch your bump. You giggled and grabbed his hands, putting them on either side of your small bump.

“You don’t have to ask to touch it, Joey.”

Joe just looked at your bump in awe. He still couldn’t believe the two of your were going to be parents. Seeing your small bump for the first time though really made things feel real for him. He brought his lips close to your tummy.

“Hi peanut, it’s your daddy. I know you probably can’t hear me yet, but that’s OK. I just want to tell you that I love you so much already and I can’t wait to meet you. Be good to your mommy, okay? She’s working hard to keep you safe and sound in there. Can you promise me you’ll be good in there and not cause too much trouble for her?”

Your stomach growled making both you and Joe chuckle. Your morning sickness has passed and your appetite is now ten times greater than it was before, so you and the baby are always up to eating.

“I think that’s a yes.” Joe said, smirking up at you. You giggled and put your hands on top of Joes head, playing with his dark blonde locks as he finished chatting with your baby. He placed a soft kiss above your belly button before he stood back up to give your lips the same kiss.

You hummed into the kiss, bringing your hand up to his cheek. He pulled away and put his forehead against yours.

“I love you so much, Y/n. You’re going to be the best mama to our baby,” he said, placing a hand on your belly.

You smiled up at him, placing your own hand over his. “And we love you too, Joe. You’re already the best daddy to our little peanut.”

Joe swore he felt his heart swell when you said those words. Our little peanut.

He couldn’t wait for the moment where he holds his son or daughter for the first time. But for now, he’s content with getting to hold your small bump instead.

20 weeks (gender reveal)

“What do you think Baby Burrow is Y/n?” Morgan asked as she handed you the confetti popper for the big reveal.

“I think it’s a boy.” You smile, taking the popper into your hands

“I agree!” Sam shouted, giving you a nod and thumbs up. Ja’Marr held his drink up and said, “Y/n is never wrong, it’s a boy.”

You and Joe both smile at their reactions. Morgan nodded as she handed Joe the same popper, “I have to say I do agree. I think it’s a boy. What about you Joe?”

“Girl,” he said with a big smile, “I am confident it’s a girl.”

Robin, Joe’s mom nodded her head vigorously, “Me too!” she called out from where she was standing.

Morgan stepped back and gave you and Joe instructions for when to pop the confetti. The group of guests started counting down, you and Joe staring into each others eyes as you waited for them to get to one.

Three…

Two…

One..

You and Joe twisted the poppers and pink confetti bursted into the air. Screaming and cheering erupted throughout the back yard of yours and Joes home.

You smiled and covered your mouth in shock. You thought for sure you were having a little boy. Joe dropped the popper and threw his hands up in the air grinning widely. He pulled you into a tight embrace, the two of you laughing and beaming with joy.

“We’re having a girl, babe!” Joe said, that wide grin staying on his face.

“I know,” you smiled, “I can’t believe it! We’re having a daughter.”

Joe put his hand on your growing belly, rubbing it gently. “Now I can finally say what I’ve been wanting to say for weeks now.”

You cocked your head to the side, “What’s that?”

Joe smiled down at you and planted a kiss to your forehead before he pulled back and said, “That I love my girls so much.”

24 weeks (first kick)

You were laying on the couch with Joe, catching up on Yellowstone. You were cuddling into his side with your hand resting on his stomach and drawing shapes on his clothed abdomen as your eyes were glued to the screen. Joe brought his hand down from behind his head and placed it on your belly, pressing gently into your skin.

You chuckled, and pulled his hand away, “What are you doing?”

He put his hand back to your bump and poked all around the swollen skin, “Tryin’ to get her to kick. Zac said it worked every time with his kids.”

You just watched with an amused look at Joe pushed on different spots of your belly, trying to get the baby girl to kick. Joe was obsessed with your bump, constantly having his hands on it as a way to comfort you and let his baby girl know he was there. You absolutely loved it.

His movements stopped and he placed his hand gently over your belly, waiting to feel a kick. Nothing. Joe frowned and tried again, you giggled at him as all of his focus was now on trying to get your baby to kick. You’ve been feeling little flutters and movements for the last couple weeks, but they were never large enough for someone else to feel. Joe was about to remove his hand from your belly when you felt a sudden jolt come from just to the right of your belly button.

Joe looked up at you a smile pulling at the corners of this mouth, “Did she just kick?”

You nodded, “I think your trick worked.”

You and Joe both had your hands placed over your belly, both of you waiting to feel your girls movement once again. About a minute later you felt that same jolt in the same spot.

“There it is.” Joe laughed, rubbing the spot she kicked with his thumb.

“That is the craziest feeling.” You laughed.

“It’s crazy, but it’s amazing.” He leaned down and placed a soft kiss to the side of your bump. Joe swore he could feel his heart swell at the feeling of her little feet kicking his hand.

The rest of the night Joe couldn’t keep his hands off your tummy. He loved being able to talk to and feel his little girl move around in there. It was the best feeling in the world for both of you.

34 weeks (cravings)

You sat up in bed, looking down at Joe who was sound asleep next you. You watched as his chest rose and fell with every breath he took. Joe always looked so peaceful when he slept. You huffed out a sigh, wishing you could be sound asleep too. But your baby girl was keeping you wide awake. Her constant movements and multiple punches to your bladder have kept you up for most of the night. However, it was your late night cravings that made getting sleep nearly impossible.

You’ve tried to fall asleep, but you know you can’t until your cravings are satisfied. You look over at Joe and frown. You don’t want to wake him up, but you know in order for you to get any sleep tonight, you have to wake him. You brought you hand up to his chest, gently rubbing it and hoping it would wake him up. As soon as you started rubbing his chest, Joe stirred beneath your touch.

“Joey,” you whispered, “are you awake?”

He hummed and brought his hands up to his eyes, rubbing them. He knew exactly why you were up, but he still decided to ask.

“Y/n, sweetheart I love you, but,” he opened his eyes and glanced at the alarm clock. He groaned as he saw the time, “it is three in the morning. I have to go to an all day practice in five hours.”

You sighed and dropped your head down to his chest. You brought your head back up and frowned at him. He started to slowly stroke your cheek as you spoke.

“I know, I know. And I’m sorry I woke you up, but,” you sighed, “I really want french fries.”

Joe sighed and bit his lip before he responded.

“What if I bring you two large fries from McDonald’s after practice?”

You shook your head, “Mmm, I won’t want them by then.”

Joe sighed once again. He loved you and his baby girl more than life itself, but he desperately needed sleep.

You put your hands on his chest and pushed your lower lip out in a pout.

“Please? Don’t do it for me, do it for our little peanut. She’s the one that wants the fries so bad!”

Joe shook his head as he smiled at you. You always knew how to guilt trip him into getting things for you. He could never say no to you, especially when you bring up the baby.

“Fine,” he breathed out, “Only because I love my girls so much.”

You sat up in bed and clapped as you smiled happily. He got out of bed and slid on a pair of athletic shorts and some random t-shirt that sat on the dresser. He walked back over to the bed and put his hands on your belly and bent down to kiss you. You hummed into the kiss. Thankful for your husband and excited for your french fried.

He pulled away and smiled as he said, “I’ll be back in a bit.”

And about twenty minutes later, Joe walked back into the bedroom with a bag full of fresh McDonalds fries. He crawled back into bed and handed you the bag. You squealed happily as you pulled out the container of large fries. You shoved a handful of fries into your mouth, moaning at the delicious taste of the salty fries.

“You are the best.”

Joe smiled softly, “I try baby, I try.”

You smiled and picked up a fry, putting into Joe’s mouth, who gratefully accepted it.

You truly did get so lucky with Joe. He’s the best husband and you know he’s going to be the best dad too. As you finished your fries, you grabbed Joes hand and placed it on your bump. He instantly started to run his hand over it, bringing both you and your baby comfort.

“Peanut and I say thank you for the fries,” you smiled, putting your hand over his, “but we’re sorry for waking you up.”

Joe chuckled and moved further down on the bed so he was level with your tummy. He placed a soft kiss to your right side, earning a kick in return from his baby girl. He laid his face against your bump and closed his eyes.

“Anything for my girls.” He said with a content smile on his face.

Joe fell asleep with his arms wrapped around your waist and his head on your belly. You dozed off shortly after Joe and your baby girl was finally asleep too. You swore it was because she knew her daddy was asleep with his head laying right next to her.

You and Joe couldn’t wait to meet your baby girl. And you wouldn’t have to wait long because two weeks from today…your sweet Josie Lee Burrow was born.

hey loves!!

once again, i got SO carried away with this. i had so many ideas and the concept of dad joe is just too sweet<3

i hope you all enjoyed this! i have an update of welcome to the jungle coming this week, so stay tuned ;) but for now, enjoy this cute dad joe imagine

thank you for requesting this!!

hope everyone is well<33

[aimless-imagines-for-fun]

Strawberries and Peaches

Pairing  ::  Eric Northman  x  fem!Reader

Warnings  ::  Angst, Smut, Mentions of Blood, Bloodplay(?idk he’s a vampire so-?), Death

Word Count  ::  3,588

Summary  ::  Eric thought he had lost you centuries ago, and yet here you were again.

A/N  ::  Takes place between season 3 and 4

When you walked into Fangtasia a few nights ago, with an old acquaintance of Eric’s, he thought he had seen a ghost. The last time he laid eyes on you, you were crying. The last time he held you, you were dying. 

-

Nearly several hundred years ago, Eric first met you, a humble girl in a recluse village. Your people warned you not to venture off into the woods, and more importantly, to never speak to the people who walk only during the night. You were kind-hearted though, and so, when a blond man walked up to you after nightfall, begging for help, you couldn’t say no. You more than happily helped him and welcomed him into your home. You treated and cared for him as if he were your own family. 

Eric had never received such kindness from a human before, whether they knew he was a vampire or not. You always gave him a smile, even when people began to warn you about him. He found himself drawn to you. Your scent was like none he had ever smelled before. Strawberries and peaches, with a dash of rose petals. Whenever your fingers touched him, he swore he felt his freezing body warm-up. For the first time in his life, he found himself falling for someone, and slowly, you did too.

Perhaps your feeling for him clouded your judgment, or perhaps you truly didn’t care. When Eric had confessed to being a vampire, you hugged him and told him you’d love him no matter what. Godric tried to warn Eric that starting a life with a human would be dangerous, especially since you weren’t ready to be turned. The thought of being immortal horrified you, however, with Eric it didn’t seem that scary. Still, you weren’t ready to say goodbye to the sun. All he could do was support your decision and wait. His compassion is what killed you, and he blamed himself every day for it until eventually, you were a fleeting thought in the back of his mind. 

There were times Eric had to leave because Godric needed him. Unfortunately, on one of these trips your village, though recluse, was not impossible to find. You were attacked right before sunset by a neighboring kingdom that had recently declared war against yours. Men, women, and children died, homes were burned to the ground. Your home was spared. You were not. Eric returned shortly after the attackers had left, finding the ruins of your village. If his heart was still beating, it surely would’ve stopped. He found you in your home, laying in a pool of blood on the floor with a large slash across your torso. Your breath had stopped long ago, and your warm touch now is just as freezing as Eric’s. He fell to his knees, holding your limp body in his arms. He could see tear stains on your face, and he couldn’t help but wonder what your last thoughts were. Were you waiting for him? Crying for him to return? He’d never know, but he’d make sure he’d have revenge for your death.

-

Time went on, and Eric began to grow unsympathetic. He never allowed himself to get close to another human again as he did with you. He had the occasional flings, and there was Pam. She was a companion and received a different sort of love from him than you did. There was also Sookie, whom he felt drawn to, but he never felt the love for her he felt for you. What drew him to Sookie was the fact she was a fae. What drew him to you, he never quite understood.

You may have become a distant memory, but he’d always remember your sweet scent. Strawberries, peaches, and a hint of rose petals. He hadn’t smelled that sweet aroma since the day you died, that was until a few nights ago.

You walked in with Bishop, an old acquaintance of Eric who knew him long enough to know you. You wore a pastel yellow sundress, not knowing you’d be going to the vampire bar. All Bishop told you was to wear something nice. Hell, the man didn’t even tell you he was taking you to Louisiana. You lived on the west coast in a small apartment as a writer. Ever since The Great Revelation, you had been attempting to speak to as many vampires as you could so you could share their stories with the world. Most were hostile or rude when you questioned them, and the few that would agree had either odd demands you’d have to refuse or were clearly lying. Then, one night, a vampire showed up at your front door, claiming he knew a vampire over a thousand years old who’d tell you his story. Shortly after, you found yourself on a plane and now in a bar called “Fangtasia”.

Bishop told you to wait near the front, which you gladly did, not wanting to walk further in. You stood out like a sore thumb, and all you could do to avoid the gazes you were receiving was look at the wall of shirts they sold.

Bishop walked up to Eric’s throne, a small smile on his face. “Hello, Sheriff-”

“Stop,” Eric said in a cold tone. He narrowed his gaze on the man.  “What do you want?”

Eric and Bishop had a complicated relationship. They had known each other for centuries, but they weren’t friends. Their paths only really crossed when one needed something from the other, typically Bishop needing something from Eric.

“Have you always been this hostile?” Bishop let out a sigh. “I don’t want or need, anything Eric. I came to bring you a gift.” Eric was silent, letting the man continue. “I know you smell her, and yes, it really is her…”

Eric’s gaze moved over to you, standing by, looking at the shirts. You looked exactly the same, besides your (h/c) hair being a bit different now. His eyes softened for a moment, watching you giggle at some of the little phrases they put on the shirts. 

“...or at least, another version of her.”

Eric’s focus snapped back to Bishop. “What?”

“She’s one in a billion.”

Eric knew some people could be reincarnated, but thought the chances of that were slim to none. Godric had only encountered two reincarnated people in his life, and Eric none, until now that is. 

Without another word, Eric approached you. You were so into the silly phrases on the shirt, you nearly missed the tall man approaching you. You turned to face him, a large grin on your face as you extended your hand.

“Hello, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Northman. I’m (f/n) (l/n), but please, call me (y/n).”

“Only if you call me Eric.” 

Looking down at you, the corner of his lips were curved upward. Reaching out to shake your hand, he felt the same warmth he felt centuries ago when your hands touched. You tilted your head touching his hand. Yes, it was cold, but, you felt an odd sense of safety holding his hand, even if it was for a brief moment.

You let out a small chuckle, shaking your head lightly. “I’m sorry, but, do I know you?” You couldn’t help but be forward. You’ve never felt this sense of security before.

Eric, for once, didn’t know how to reply. Technically he knew you, a different you though.

“Possibly, I’ve been around for a long time. There’s a chance our paths have crossed before.”

You hummed in response, before continuing on to tell him about why you had traveled all the way to Shreveport, Louisiana. Eric absentmindedly listened to what you had to say. In all honesty, he was just happy to see you again and agreed to any pitch you gave him. As long as he could be close to you again. Even though Bishop was constantly telling you on your journey here that Eric would say yes, you were still surprised and grateful when he agreed. The agreement was for you to come to Fangtasia each night, sit next to Eric, and he’d tell you his story.

He was one to come up with the arrangement, yet it seemed he cared little about telling you his story. You went several nights in a row, standing out due to your brightly colored clothes each day. Everyone stared at you as you sat next to Eric, except for one of the employees named Pam. She didn’t seem to care a single bit about who you were. The night usually went one of two ways. One: You’d ask Eric a question, he’d give a vague answer, and then quickly shift the focus on you. Two: Men and Women would spend the entire night trying to grab just a sliver of Eric’s attention before he snapped his fingers and Pam came to pry them away. There was one night he almost kicked a man who made a comment as to why you were so special you got to sit next to him, Eric held back. He didn’t want to make you more uncomfortable than you already were in the bar.

Tonight was the second kind of night. So far, the blond had already rejected two women and one man. You couldn’t wrap your head around why people would throw themselves at him. Admittedly, you found Eric handsome, and always wanted to see him smile for some odd reason. Still, you’d never throw yourself at him like these people would. At least, you’d hope you never would.

You were usually patient, however, it had been nearly a week and you still hadn’t gotten a thing from him. You were beginning to grow impatient with him, not to mention tired from your daily schedule changing so much thanks to him as well.

“Hey, Eric, I think I’m gonna head back to my hotel early tonight,” You told him as you began to pack up your things.

Eric looked at you with confusion, brows furrowed. “Why? What’s wrong?” He didn’t want to show it, but he was worried something was wrong.

You stood up, throwing your bag over your shoulder. “Nothing, I’m just tired is all. Have a nice night.”

Walking out of Fangtasia, for the first time ever, you saw a large group of Christian protesters standing a short distance away from the entrance. Usually, you showed up right before sunset and left at the crack of dawn, so you had never seen such a large group. You wouldn’t have cared much if not for the fact that you had to go through the crowd to get to your car. They shouted at you as you walked through, calling you a “fang-banger” and “vampire cunt”. You ignored them, wondering why they had nothing better to do than this. Tonight was one of their rowdier nights though, and you were shoved to the ground. You scraped your hands and knees, tearing the white tights you wore under your blue dress. You began to pick yourself up, and that’s when you noticed the crowd had gone silent. You looked up, curious, seeing Eric now standing right at the front of the crowd, Pam right beside him. He was giving them a murderous glare, daring for one of them to do something so he could rip them apart. 

Once you stood up, Eric turned to you, walking over in a few steps. He grabbed both your wrists, eyebrows knitted together. “You’re bleeding,” He muttered, looking down at the scrapes on your palms. Letting go of one of your wrists, he led you back inside. “Pam, deal with these people,” He ordered right before he walked in.

Briskly, he walked you back to his office, not wanting any of the other vampires to get a whiff of your blood for too long. You had never been in the back, and you didn’t get a very good look around with Eric rushing you into his office.

“Sit on the desk,” He told you as he began rummaging through one of his cabinets for the first aid kit. It was rarely used.

You moved a few of the items on his desk aside so you could hop on. Silently, you looked around the office, waiting for Eric to walk over. After a moment, he found the kit and began cleaning one of your hands. His cold hand held your warm one gently, almost as if he were afraid he’d break you if he wasn’t soft with you. You were closer to him now than ever before, with only a foot of distance between you. You winced when he cleaned the wounds, but as he bandaged them up, you couldn’t help staring at him. You took note of his perfect, still pale, complexion, his blue eyes, and his slightly tense jaw. Little did you know, it was causing a great deal of pain for Eric to hold back and not start licking the blood that came out of your wounds. Your scent was much stronger than before and his mouth was watering, remembering the sweet taste of your blood.

When he was done with your hands, he paused for a moment, looking down at your knees. “I need you to take off your tights.”

You were confused, until you looked down, seeing your ripped tights. “O-oh, right,” you stuttered.

You hopped off and took your little blue heels with ease. Then, you reached up the skirt of your dress and pulled down your now ruined tights, tossing them right next to your bag. As you did, you could feel his intense stare on you, causing your cheeks to heat up. You were about to sit back on his desk until he told you to stand instead. He knelt down to clean the scrapes on your knees, one hand holding the back of your leg. Quickly, he wrapped it up and moved on to clean your other knee. 

Now, you don’t know why you did, but without thinking you questioned Eric. “Why’d you lie and agree to tell me your story?” You covered your mouth right after you asked him. Your mother always did tell you that you had the problem of speaking without thinking.

Caught off guard, Eric looked up at you with wide eyes. “Excuse me?”

Realizing you couldn’t take back what you said, you continue on. “You haven’t told me a thing about you. Why’d you lie to me about telling me your story?”

Without hesitation, Eric replied, “Because I wanted you to be with me again.”

Now you were caught off guard.

“You’re almost an exact replica of someone I cared about and lost a long time ago. You don’t have her memories, but besides that, you’re exactly the same,” He began to explain, “You look like her.” His grip on your leg tightened, “You feel like her.” He moved his head closer to the now clean wound on your knee and took a sniff, “You smell like her.” He licked the fresh blood that was coming out, “You taste like her.”

Eric watched you squirm a bit under his hold, a faint blush spreading across your face. You gripped the sides of your dress, your brows turned downwards and your lips formed a small frown. You thought he was teasing you.

He let out a small chuckle. “You even act the same as her.” He licked your leg again, your breath now shaking.

“S-stop it,” You barely managed to whisper.

You could hear the sadness in his voice and it made your heart hurt. Your eyes began to sting. Your chest grew tight. You couldn’t understand why you felt so sad for him, even though you barely knew him. Finally, he let go of your leg and stood up, towering over you. 

“What if I don’t want to stop?” Eric asked you, eyes peering down into yours.

Your heart was racing now, though you weren’t sure whether it was from fear or perhaps excitement. You knew one thing for sure, with him staring so intensely at you, you could feel a heat beginning to rise up inside you. 

He brought a hand up to the side of your face, stroking his thumb gently across your cheek. Slowly, he began to lean his head down.

With his lips brushing against yours he asked you, “What would you do?” right before pressing a soft kiss onto you. 

You leaned into the kiss, closing your eyes and gripping his black shirt. As it continued on, the kiss began to grow rough, Eric nibbling your bottom lip with his fangs. His hand on your cheek was gentle, but the hand that held your hip was tight. Feeling a small pinch on your lip, you let out a gasp knowing full well he had bitten your lip. It was enough for Eric to shove his tongue in your mouth though, and both of you tasted your metallic blood.

His hand on your hip moved lower, gripping your thigh. He pushed you back against the desk, lifting you so you’d be seated again. He pulled away from your mouth, moving down to your neck. He licked a few spots, before finally biting down and piercing your skin. You let out a soft cry, hands moving to wrap around his neck. You gripped his hair, feeling him suck the blood out of you. You bit your lip, trying to hold back your whimpers.

When he pulled away, you felt light-headed now. Your eyes fluttered open, feeling his hands come off only to swiftly pull your dress off. After pulling off your bra as well, his hands began to roam around your body. You shivered against his touch, your skin feeling like it was burning against his cold hands. He grabbed one of your breasts, squeezing it lightly before leaning down and biting the upper part of it. This time, he sucked to leave a mark rather than to drink your blood. 

A hand of his moved down, in between your inner thighs. He began to rub your clit with his thumb roughly, a moan finally escaping you. He pulled away from your breast, a bloody smirk on his face.

“Well how about that, you sound just like her too,” He teased.

“Sh-shut up,” You stammered.

You moved your hands to pull at the bottom of his shirt. He pulled away his thumb, allowing you to take off his shirt, and see the bulge that had formed in his pants. 

He leaned down to your ear and whispered, “I want you to get yourself ready for me love.” He then grabbed your hand, leading it down to your panties. 

Once he let go, you began to rub yourself through the thin fabric, feeling how wet you already were. You began to rub harder and faster, watching him undo his pants. His briefs went down with his pants, allowing his hardened dick to spring free. With one hand he grabbed the hand you were using to rub yourself out, and with the other, he ripped off your panties, causing you to yelp. Then, he guided you to put a finger of your own inside you, along with his. 

“Eric,” You whimpered.

He continued to guide you, moving your hands together in and out of you at a slow pace. “Shhh, I need to get that tight little cunt of yours ready for me. Okay?”

He stuck another of his own fingers inside of you and all you could do was nod your head quickly. He took out your hand and began to pick up his pace with his fingers. With your moans, and grip on his shoulders, he could tell you were getting closer, begging for a release as you arched your back.

“Eric, please,” you mewled out.

“Please what?”

“I need you, all of you,” you begged.

He pulled out his fingered and positioned himself right at your entrance. “Alright, but only because you begged,” He said with a wink. 

Slowly, he began to push himself inside of you, cursing under his breath at how tight you were. Your nails dug into his shoulders and you buried your face in the crook of his neck. Eric gave you a moment to adjust to his size before he began to move, thrusting at an unbearably slow pace for you. You attempted to move your own hips, wrapping your legs around him. Knowing you needed more, Eric began to pick up the pace almost instantly, causing you to cry out loud. He slammed his mouth against yours, muffling your cries and your moans.

He was finally giving you what you needed, and you knew you’d be undone soon. You almost cried when he pulled out of you completely, until he slammed back into. You let out a loud scream and Eric groaned, feeling you tighten. He continued to pound into you, going harder each time until your body tensed up and you moaned his name loudly, finally hitting your high. Growing close himself, Eric’s thrust had a rhythm before, but now they grew ragged. Soon after you, he hit his climax, cumming inside of you. He proceeded to ride himself out in you and your breath slowly began going back to normal.

Pulling out of you, he placed a quick kiss on your lips. “I hope you know I’m never letting you go now,” He muttered.

“That’s fine because there’s no one else I want to go with.”

[birdsandspades]

I Get A Kick Out Of You (A Bakugou Oneshot)

-Pro hero Bakugou and you are on a mission to the past. How will they navigate a day in 1959, will they even find the guy they are after. Maybe a movie, milkshake, and some dancing will help them get to the bottom of it.

Word Count - 6,069

-As you can imagine I Get A Kick Out Of You by Frank Sinatra inspired this, and also the need to go dancing with Bakugou. I had a lot of fun writing this, I hope you like it!

—-

“Alright, so you two know who you’re looking for?” The chief of police handed you a manila folder, looking between you and your partner as you stepped onto the platform.

You nodded, “I’m sure someone like Cryptid will stick out in a crowd.” You looped your arm through the one next to you, pulling them closer. Your other hand pulling down your visor on your helmet.

“Let’s just get this shit over, I fucking hate traveling…” Bakugou groaned, trying to pull away from your hold as he clipped the latch closed on his own. 

The chief took a step back, giving you a brief nod. “I expect you back here tomorrow, don’t be messing around. We don’t want anyone noticing you two are from the future.” 

“Don’t worry, i’ll keep Bakugou in check!” You tugged him back, gloved fingers digging into his jumpsuit. 

“You’ll do what?” He was jolted forward, space and time quite literally bending around him as he clung onto your arm for dear life. Everything around him moved at a dizzying pace. Life itself rewinding as he stood in the middle of it all. Buildings deconstructing, days winding back, people retracing their own steps as they moved back to their very beginnings. 

All at once it stopped. Bakugou clutching your arm, fistfuls of your suit in his hands as he tried to steady the shaking in his knees. It all rushed up, breakfast. He pushed you away, throwing off his helmet as he keeled over. This always happened. 

You soothed your hand over his back, cooing as you shifted the backpack off your shoulder. “Bakugou you ok?” 

“No, I’m not ok. Your quirk fucking sucks!” He stood up, wiping his mouth. 

You offered him a water bottle, his feverish hands snatching it before you could even utter a word.

“Well, looks like we made it ok..ish. I think we can change out of our travel suits back here before heading to the street.” You pulled out a shirt from your bag, looking around the alleyway. You were behind some kind of group of restaurant, the street just ahead. People rushed past as they went about the day. You had arrived, 1959 Boston, Massachusetts. 

Bakugou had collected himself enough, leaning back against a parked pontiac. “So where is this asshole?” 

“The file says somewhere in this suburban area.” You turned back to him, handing him the file. “They marked some places on the map, we spotted him in a few newspaper clippings all dated for today. So we just need to hit up every location until we see him.”

He nodded along, flipping through the pages. “So what are we staging as this time?”

Everytime you went to a new time you always had an act set up. Something to help you blend in as you went about the mission. Sometimes it was siblings, sometimes total strangers. It all depended on the mission.

“A teenage couple out on the town!” You beamed, pulling out Bakugou’s disguise. 

“What the fuck is this shit!” He took the bright striped button up, nose wrinkling in disgust. “And the pants, what asshole would wear these?” He ripped the bright blue pleated slacks from your other hand.

“You will.” You layed out your own outfit on the back of the Bonneville, a knee length full cherry red skirt, and a white cotton button up. The typical fashion of a 50’s teen, you had done your research.

“This is the last time I let you pick out this shit. I should have told you to fuck off after those bellbottom pants last time!.” He complained, unlacing his boots. 

“Hey! Those were amazing pants you asshole!.” You kicked off your own shoes, pulling off your socks. 

“They were fucking pink y/n, baby fucking pink.” He unzipped his suit, letting it slide down his back.

“You just have no taste in fashion Bakugou.” You unzipped your own, shimmying it down your shoulders.

“Hey!” He turned around, face red as he caught sight of your exposed back. 

“Turn around!” You screamed, covering yourself.

He did as asked, chuckling. “I have plenty of fashion taste.” He stepped out of the suit pants, throwing it towards the open bag.

“Yeah, whatever you say fanny pack.” You were tucking in your shirt into your skirt, feet slipping into your white kitten heels. 

“Why do you always bring up that fucking fanny pack, it was one time!” He buttoned the last button on his shirt, tugging at the crotch of his pants. They were too high, sitting just under his belly button. The shirt was comfortable enough, way too bright for what he usually wore. The red, yellow, white and blue stripes ran vertically along the short sleeve, all fighting for space on the small print. “Why are these pants so fucking high up?” He pulled at the material again, turning around to complain to you. He stopped, eyes wandering over you as you smoothed over your hair. A smile tried it’s best to pull at his permanent frown, and it almost won. But you just had to talk.

“What?” You glared, brushing off your skirt.

“You look stupid.” He spat, walking over to shove his helmet into the backpack. 

“Asshole, I’m putting in for a new partner when we get back.” You grabbed the bag from him, zipping it closed. You threw it in a box by a dumpster, safe until you returned.

“Yeah you always say that. But guess who’s still here.” He ruffled your hair, pushing your head away as he walked ahead of you.

You ran to catch up, eyes going wide as you stepped onto the open street. You had been almost everywhere at this point, seen almost everything. But this, this was something else. You looked down the street, cars parked along the buildings in every pastel color you could think off. Teens walked past, laughing as they enjoyed their Saturday out of school. You could hear the newest Ray Charles record playing from the store across the street, What’d I Say, an absolute classic. A group of boys ran out of the front door with penny candy in hand, pushing through a group of women waiting outside a newspaper stand next door. It was simple, quirkless. 

“Hey idiot, where are we going?” Bakugou nudged you, giving you a judgement look. 

“Oh, um. The first place marked is called Pam’s. It says it’s a restaurant. He was photographed outside in a picture submitted for a photo contest in the newspaper…” You turned the map over in your hand, trying to make out the lines from the line? This was all starting to look the same.

Bakugou pulled the map from your hands, folding it as he pointed down the road. “That fucking Pam’s?” He gave you an angry smile, shoving the map into his back pocket. 

You returned the look, grabbing his arm. “Well let’s go smartass.” You walked together down the road towards the dinner, couples passing by. They held hands, leaning against one another as they talked. Smiles bright, love in their eyes. 

You looked between Bakugou’s clenched fist and your own empty hand before scowling.

“What is that ugly face for?” He looked ahead, not sparing you a glance.

“Were supposed to be a couple, hold my hand like that.” You pointed to the couple exiting the dinner doors.

“No, we’re already here. Now fuck off.” He held the door open for you, watching as you walked under his arm.

“Two?” The lady smiled from over the counter, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Yeah please.” You nodded.

“Follow me hun.” She lifted up the flip top, walking you both down the rows of red and white booths. She stopped at one by the back of the diner setting down two menus. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.” 

You slid into the plush seat, Bakugou sitting across you. He took a menu, pushing the other to you as he looked over the burgers.

“What are you getting?” He looked over the top of the laminated sheet, already decided. 

“I think just a shake, and maybe some of your fries…?” You set down your own, smiling innocently.

“Get your own fucking…” He was cut short, your server walking back up to the table.

“Decided yet?” She pulled out a pen and pad, looking between the two of you.

“I’ll have a cheeseburger and fries.” Bakugou handed her the menu, eyes squinting as he looked over at you. 

He was daring you to say it.

“And i’ll have a strawberry shake.” You smiled at the women, handing her your own menu.

“No food?” She clicked the pen, folding the menus under her arm.

Bakugou glared your way, shaking his head. 

He just wanted you to say it.

“No thank you.” You turned to face him, smirking. “I’ll just share with him.” 

He sank in his seat as the waitress walked away. “You always do this shit. You’re going to eat all my fries again.” 

He was right, you probably were. 

You leaned over the table, rolling your eyes at the temper tantrum about to ensure. “Stop crying, we aren’t here to eat. We have to find Cryptid, so keep an eye out.

“What did he even steal again, some stupid blueprints?” Bakugou turned his head, looking over the occupied tables.

“Yeah if by some stupid blueprints you mean the one for the bomb they were planning on sticking under UA.” You greeted the couple passing by before turning back to your partner. 

“That quirk eradicating thing?” He sat back in his seat, folding his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, the one Chisaki was making. Something like that would deviate the school.” You sat up, the waitress approaching with your order.

“Here you go honey, one cheeseburger. And a strawberry shake, two straws.” She winked your way before leaving to attend to another table.

“Two fucking straws, why would you need two straws?” Bakugou frowned at the shake, picking up his burger. 

You looked behind him, cheeks heating up. The couple leaned over the table, forehead pressed together as they sipped from their shake. The same shake, two straws. You cleared your throat, pulling the glass closer. “I don’t know…”

Bakugou gave you a weird look, turning around in the booth. “That, that’s what’s got you so worked up?” He pointed a thumb towards the booth, chuckling as you sipped your shake.

“No, it’s not like we have to share the fucking thing. Eat your food and shut up…” You tried to hide the flush creeping up your skin.

“What if I want some?” He smirked, you didn’t hide it well enough.

“Then you can drink it without me attached to it…”

“Hey baby, your date here giving you trouble?” A tall man pressed his hands on the table top, eyes glued on you. His friends leaned against the bar top a few tables behind snickering.

“Oh no thank yo…” You looked across the table, Bakugou’s fingers digging into the wooden sides.

“Because if he is, I wouldn’t mind sitting with you.” He leaned down, blocking your view of Bakugou’s contorting face.

“I’m fine, no thank yo…” You could see small glimpses of Bakugou’s face over the man’s shoulder darting back and forth as he tried to see around him.

“It’s a shame, I would sit with you. Maybe share that…”

Bakugou stood up, pushing past the man as he shoved himself into you. He slid the both of you further into the booth, grabbing the shake from your hands. “Fuck off, it’s my straw.” He took a drink from your shake, glaring as the man walked off.

“Hey! Don’t drink all of it!” You ripped the shake from his hands, setting it down on the far side of the table.

“I don’t see the guy, let’s just go to the next location before some other fuckwad comes over.” He frowned, throwing some money on the table.

“I want to finish this.” You frowned, picking up the shake to take a drink.

Bakugou watched you taking small sips from the straw, groaning loudly. “Jesus let me help you with that grandma.” He took the other straw, lips connecting with the plastic as his forehead brushed yours. 

You could have sworn you saw a hint of pink brush his cheeks, but all thoughts of that were erased when his crimson eyes met yours. 

“Stop looking at me with that ugly face…” Bakugou pulled away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can we just get going already?” He grabbed your hand, tugging you out of the booth.

You watched as he pulled you along, staring at his hand tightly wrapped around yours. Bakugou had never been one to get jealous easily. But maybe he was just playing the part well today.

“Where are we going next?” 

“The next picture is of the movie theater. It’s opening night for The Mummy, they got him in the shot of the crowd lined up.” You rushed behind him, feet dragging behind you as he pulled you out of the restaurant.

“Well let’s go, I want to get this over with. These pants are riding up in places pants shouldn’t be.” 

You groaned loudly, you didn’t need to know that.

You walked behind Bakugou to the theater, his hand still wrapped around your own. His pace had slowed down once you left the diner, but the tension in his shoulder reamined, tightly wound as he stomped his way across the street.

Passerbys watched in horror as he trudged up to the ticket booth. Were you in need of help, who was this gorilla of a man dragging you behind him. You apologized as he pushed through the line, angry looks following you as he aggressively shoved a bill into the ticket slot. 

“Two tickets for that.” He pointed to the poster, glaring at the teller. 

The man pushed the change and the tickets through the slot without another word, relaxing once Bakugou mumbled and groaned his way into the building. 

“Hey hot head, you’re drawing too much attention. If you’re not careful you may set off your quirk.” You harshly whispered into his ear as he walked up to the concession stand, his hand dampening in your own.

You knew him well enough to know that the angry he got, the more prone he was to slip ups. 

You pushed past him to the front of the counter. “What do you want hangry? I’ll buy it.” 

Bakugou huffed, pointing to the bag of atomic fireballs. 

“Can I get a bag of those, a popcorn, and a coke please.” You hand the lady at the register a few dollars as another worker prepared your snacks. “Thank you.” You took the popcorn from the counter and the soda, leaving the candy for Bakugou to grab as you walked down the hallway to the theater. 

“You shouldn’t be so nice when people are bothering you F/N.” Bakugou mumbled behind you, more aggravated than mad now. 

“We have a mission, I can’t just tell people to fuck off Katsuki. Trust me I would have loved to…” You added, pushing open the door.

He stared at you, shaking his head. A small smile tugging at his lips as he walked down the aisle behind you. You were something else. 

You sat down a few rows back, Bakugou sitting beside you as he took the popcorn from your lap. “So we just hang out here and wait for him to show up?”

“Yeah, he came to this show. He should be here somewhere.” You took a sip of your soda, watching as the seats filled up around you. 

“I don’t see him F/N.” Bakugou leaned in to whisper in your ear, the lights turning off as the movie started.

“He’s here. Just give it some time.” You leaned up against his shoulder, settling against him as you watched the movie. 

Bakugou wanted to protest, you were on a mission. But letting you lay against him like this wouldn’t hurt, just for a little bit.

Soon a good portion of the movie had gone by, your popcorn bucket empty as you reached your hand inside.

“Katsuki, i’m going to get more.” You shook the empty popcorn bucket, standing up.

He nodded, eyes glued on the screen. He was enthralled. 

You slid past him into the aisle way, making your way out into the theater hallways. You walked back up to the concession stand, waiting your turn as the line moved forward.

You looked over the room, doing a double take at the front door. The man turned around, the same familiar weasley features you had been looking at all day. 

He made eye contact with you, eyes going wide as you stepped out of the line. He looked around before booking it out of the theater, pushing over a few men as he ran out onto the street. 

You chased after him out the door, watching him run down the street towards the roller rink. “Shit.” You cursed, walking back into the theater. You rushed down the hallways, pushing the theater door open as you walked over to Bakugou.

“Katsuki, I saw Cryptid. We have to go.” You leaned over his shoulder, turning his attention away from the screen.

“You saw him?” He stood up, people yelling from behind him to sit down. He put two hands over your ears, glaring at the people behind him.

You watched him shout, unable to hear a thing through his hands. People threw popcorn, angrily yelling back from the looks on their faces. Bakugou pulled you out of the theater, people booing him as he pushed you out of the doors.

“What did you say?” You looked at him, eyes going wide. You had heard him say some vulgar things, but never anything that had warranted that kind of reaction. 

“I ruined the ending.” He looked around the theater, eyes landing on you again. “Where did he go?”

“Oh! The roller rink, I chased him out of the theater and he ran down the road.” It was now your turn to pull him behind you, tugging the blonde along as you ran out of the theater and towards the roller rink.

 “You chased after him. F/N you should have just come and got me.” Bakugou contested, his fingers slipping from your grip. He always had a problem with getting sweaty when he got worked up, and the thought of you running off alone after a villain was making his heart race. He laced his fingers with your, a better alternative that would keep him attached to you.

“I did come get you, but he saw me and took off. I didn’t want to lose him…” You slowed to a stop outside the roller rink doors. It was already getting dark outside, the sun starting to set behind the skyline. You would have to catch him here, if you took any longer you were going to run out of options. 

You walked up to the shoe counter at the front of the building, stepping up on the platform as you waited for someone to come out.

“Hey folks, welcome in! No rollerskates tonight, we close down for dancing on Saturdays, but you’re welcome to head on in!” A younger gentleman popped his head out of the office door, pointing towards the roller floor. 

“Let’s just take a look around, he may be hiding in the group.” You thanked the man, walking behind Bakugou to the crowd of teenagers below.

“I am not dancing.” He turned to you, shaking his head slowly. It was his one rule on missions, no dancing. He hated it, hated the attention. It was a useless skill and he didn’t want to waste time doing it, especially on a mission.

“Katsuki I know you hate it, but we are going to stick out just standing here. Let’s just do one song, work our way through the crowd. If we don’t see him we can leave.” You pleaded with him. The mass of people was thick, too thick to see everyone inside it. You would have to sift through them to even get to the other side of the building.

“No, i’m not saying it again. You can go find someone else to dance with you in that shit.” He folded his hands over his chest. He didn’t mean that, he would probably knock anyone who touched you’s teeth out, let alone let them hold onto you for a whole three minutes.

“Katsuki, if we don’t catch this guy we will fail this mission. Do you want to fail the mission?” 

He groaned, throwing his hands up. He hated dancing, he hated seeing people touch you, he hated that look you were giving him. But he absolutely despised failing a mission, the paperwork was atrocious.

He took your hand, practically throwing you onto the dance floor as he trudged behind you. Can it just be a slow dance, something simple and easy. 

The music changed, the beginning notes of In the Mood started. The mass of people opened, each couple their own space as everyone settled into the beat of the trumpets. It was swing, a form of dance he sadly knew well.

Bakugou had been cursed at birth with parents who loved more refined things in life. He from a young age was introduced to piano, male fashion, and dancing. Stupid fucking dancing. His parents made him take classes until he started at UA, they said it would help him in becoming a great hero one day. He had taken a liking to swing early on, it was something he could see himself using in his training one day. 

He did in fact see a difference in his hand to hand combat skills after he got the technique down, but fuck him. He was actually going to have to use it for its original purpose.

“Do you even know how to swing?” He groaned, taking your hand.

“A little, we practiced it for fun during ballet.” You leaned in, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

He had forgotten about your musical upbring, you had suffered through almost as much as he did. 

“Just don’t fall on your ass…” Bakugou started to move his feet, he would take it easy for your sake.

You mirrored him, holding onto his hand tight as he swung you around. 

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. You couldn’t help but giggle, beaming as you danced around the hall. 

He wanted to complain, but you looked so happy. It was rubbing off on him, that bubbly feeling of just being in the moment with you.

“Want to try something?” He yelled over the music, lifting his arm to twirl you.

“Yes!” You shouted, smiling as you came around.

He let go of one hand, swinging you out. He reeled you back in, his free hand coming under you back as he swung you to one side, then the other as you did a full roll over his shoulder. Your feet touched back down on the ground as he spun you out again. 

You laughed, absolutely shocked. “The girls in my class were never strong enough to do that.” You took his other hand again as he chuckled.

“You’re a lot easier to dance with compared to the old hag that taught me.” 

You very seldom saw this side of Bakugou, the soft side of him. The happy side. He had been assigned to you as a partner years ago because of a broadcasting incident. The poor man was always so wound up, a ball of nerves. It was only a matter of time before he punched a cameraman for getting in his face. You were a low contact hero, someone who worked behind the scenes. Hell you honestly never got recognized for what you even did. It seemed like a match made in heaven, a quiet hero looking for a partner, and a hotheaded pro looking to get out of the spotlight.

It started as a punishment, something to cool his head for a month or two. He went on a few missions with you, nothing too far back. But the anger and tension practically melted off the guy every time you went out. He liked it, the lack of pressure. No one knew who he was, no one expected anything of him. He could just be a hero, just save the day. No reports, no news casts, no civilians screaming at him. 

You were his only concern, to keep you safe. You never expected him to do anything more. Before long he had asked to be assigned to you. It was a demotion honestly, he was one of the top 10 heroes after all. But most day’s it felt like he was everyone’s favorite punching bag. Not even a hero in society’s eyes, just the person they loved to hate. But you, you never did that. Sure you would argue with him, and he had to admit it was fun to have someone who was just as snappy as he was around. But you never blamed him, never accused him, never labeled him.

He was just Katsuki Bakugou to you, and maybe Ground Zero when he was being an asshole. 

The song ended, everyone easing to a stop around the dance floor. A good section of the group made their way off the dance floor, breaking for water.

Bakugou looked around the room as he took a deep breath. “Now’s the best chance to find the guy.” 

You nodded, the next song starting. You turned to walk off the dance floor, a warm hand wrapping around your wrist.

“Hey, where are you going? You won’t be able to see him from up there.” He pulled you back, resting a hand on your hip.

“I thought we agreed on one song?” You tilted your hand, letting your hand fall on his shoulder.

“You said it yourself, we’re going to have to work our way through the crowd.” He took a step back, swaying with the music. 

You opened your mouth to protest, just smiling instead. You laid your head on his shoulder, scanning the crowd behind him. Why not kill two birds with one stone.

Bakugou did the same, leaning his head against your own. He looked for the uncommon top of silver white hair. Cryptid blended in with the people back home, but here his look was uncommon. He had gotten his name from how easily he disappeared into a crowd, almost as if he had never been there at all. But he had made the mistake of traveling too far back in time. The gene pools were smaller, more predictable. No one had bright hair, unnatural eyes, quirks. 

“Hey man, what do you think you’re doing!”

You lifted your head up, turning towards the sound of commotion coming from the front shoe desk.

A man was chasing someone out the front doors, “That guy stole my wallet!”

You looked at Bakugou before running off the dance floor and out the roll rink doors. Cryptid stood across the street, his eyes locked onto yours as he took off down the alley behind him.

You tried to run after him, Bakugou grabbing your arm as a car passed by. “Do you want to get hit?” He yelled, tugging you back.

You watched the villain disappear between the rushing cars. You sighed in defeat, this guy was pretty good at this vanishing stuff.

“We can just catch him at the next location.” Bakugou frowned.

“Yeah…” You reached for his back pocket, patting only fabric. You turned him around, patting at his ass.

“Fuck F/N, stop touching my ass!” He slapped your hand away, his face growing hot.

“Katsuki, where is the map? You had it last.” You looked at him, panic growing. Without that map you had no way of knowing where he would be next in this massive city.

“I put it in my back pocket…” He patted the space, eyes widening. “When did I lose it?”

“You took it from me before me went to Pam’s…it could be anywhere…” You sat down on the side of the road, pedestrians staring as they walked past.

“Do you remember where he went next?” Bakugou sat down next to you, rubbing his temples.

“No, because someone took the map from me when I was looking at it.” You glared over at him, mood souring.

“Well fuck F/N, do you remeber anything we can use?” He complained, scowling at the empty alleyway.

“Maybe…I remember seeing something about a stolen car found on the top of the hill. It was supposed to be an extra tip just in case.” 

“It’s worth a try, get up.” He offered you a hand, pulling you to your feet.

“What are you doing? We won’t be able to walk all the way there.” You followed him across the street, walking back into the alley you came from.

“We aren’t walking. Grab the bag.” Bakugou walked up to the parked pontiac, jiggling the handle.

You pulled the backpack out of the empty box you had left it in, walking over to the car.

Bakugou gave it a few more tugs, ripping the handle off of the car door. He pulled the door open, leaning under the steering wheel.

“Katsuki we can’t steal a car!” You harshly whispered, looking around for watchers.

“Why not, they are going to find one up there already, why not just leave this one too.” He connected the wires unearth, the car stuttering a few times before it started. He stood up, turning to you. “Or do you have a better idea?”

“…I guess not.” You threw your hands up, walking over to the passenger side. 

Bakugou got inside the car, leaning over to unlock your own door. He pushed it open, sitting back in the driver’s seat. 

You sat down, throwing the backpack in the back seat. “Do you even know how to drive one of these?” 

“It’s a manual, not a spaceship.” He pressed down on the clutch and shifted to first gear, his other tapping the accelerator as the car moved forward. 

This man never ceased to amaze you. 

Bakugou pulled out of the alleyway and onto the street. “Where are we going?”

“Up there.” You pointed down the road, your fingers landing on the distant hill on the horizon. “It’s called a look out point I think.”

“Gross.” Bakugou’s face soured. Intimacy, disgusting. 

You chuckled, leaning forward to turn on the radio. You clicked through the stations stopping a few in. “Hey, I know this song.” You looked over at the irritated blonde, rolling his eyes. It was Frank Sinatra I Get A Kick Out Of You, something you had heard in a taxi a long time ago. 

Bakugou tapped his finger along on the steering wheel as he rounded the road up to the top of the mountain. It was catchy. He glanced over at you, face pressed against the window as you looked down at the city skyline. It was close to dark now, the tips of the sun barely brushing the tops of the lowest buildings. The street lights were kicking on all around the city as he drove up the dark dirt road, the soft light of parked cars peaking over the top.

He pulled into the lot at the top, parking a few open spaces down from the full rows of cars. He turned off the engine and shut off the lights, the night stars popping out one by one as your eyes adjusted to the night sky.

“Hey what does this button do?” You pressed the button on the roof back, the top clicking off as it moved back into the trunk space.

“Hey, don’t be fucking with things!” Bakugou groaned, trying to stop the top from tucking away. He looked at you, hand lowering.

The sky had opened up now, the shine of every star filled the empty space in your eyes as you stared at awe. You filled his as he sank into his seat, watching you gush over the sea of lights above the both of you. 

“I’ve never seen this many. We usually never stay this late…” You laid back in your seat, counting every twinkle in the sky.

There were perks of living in such an advanced society, but there were also drawbacks. One major one being the light pollution. You had never really seen the stars, not like this. The city was too bright to see anything but the north star and the moon. But this was everything in between, the last dying breaths of the constellations above. 

You reached a hand over, brushing your fingers over Bakugou’s. “Katsuki I think that one is Mars.” You pointed up, looking over at him.

“What one?” He leaned over trying to line up his site with your extended finger.

“That one.” You pointed again.

“I don’t see it.” He leaned over a bit more, shoulder brushing yours.

“That red one!” You grumbled as he leaned over you.

Bakugou rested his hand on the side of your head, leaning down to brush his lips over your own. He pressed in you, kissing you sweetly. 

You tangled you fingers with his shirt as he pulled back, a smirk adorning his face.

“Hey, we’re working!” You blushed, covering your face with your hands.

“We are working.” He laughed, sitting back in his seat. He looked out the window, no sign of new cars.

“Do you think he will show up?” You sat up, looking at the row of cars.

“Maybe, we just have to wait and see.” Bakugou squinted at the movement coming from the car a few spots down before turning away. 

“What’s wrong, did you see him?” You leaned over, trying to get a better look.

Bakugou threw his hand over your eyes, pushing you back into your seat.“ You don’t want to see.” 

Your cheeks heated up, he was probably right.

You heard a scream come from the direction, both of your heads whipping around as you pulled his hand down.

“Hey get your hands off my girlfriend!” 

You saw a man get out of the car, pulling someone else out behind him. He was in his underwear, hair messy as he threw the man on the ground.

“That’s Cryptid!” You shouted, pointing to the man trying to stand up.

The other man swung his arm, knocking the villain out in one punch. He crumpled to the ground, limp in the dirt. The other man got back into his car, starting the engine as he drove off.

Bakugou unlocked the car door getting out, you scrambled behind him as you crawled over the seat. You both walked over to the unconscious man, turning him over to see his face.

“Yeah, he’s out cold…” You touched the man’s chest, making sure he was still breathing.

“He must have seen us and tried to hide in that car.” Bakugou picked up the man by the back of his shirt, holding him like a wet cat. 

“Well…that was convenient.” You walked back to the car, pulling the bag out of the back seat. “We should get him back before the chief throws a fit. It’s getting pretty late.”

You pulled out your jumpsuits, slipping it on over your clothes. You handed Bakugou his, trading him from the collar of the villain as he got dressed to leave.

“Let’s just say we did it, don’t need the chief knowing we let some highschool football player catch this idiot.” Bakugou reached out a hand, pulling you into his side.

“Looks like the mission is done.” You wrapped an arm around him, holding him close. 

“Yeah.” He took the man from you, shaking his head. “Can we go home so I can stop pretending to be your teenage boyfriend, I like being your adult fiance more.” He flashed you a small smile before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Yeah, we still need to talk about wedding cakes tonight.” You smirked, handing him his helmet. You clicked down your visor, as he slid his on.

Bakugou groaned, “We can’t just do it in the morning?” He was jolted forward, the both of you vanishing from the hilltop parking lot. 

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

Gibbous Chapter 8

Chapter Title:  One Swallow Does not Make a Summer

Summary: It’s fine. Everything is fine. (It really isn’t)

Pairings: platonic lamp, platonic sleepxiety lets finally be honest with ourselves

Chapter Word-Count: 6024

Warnings:  unresolved grief, past minor character death, panic attack, crying, panic/anxiety, emotional abuse/gaslighting, dissociation

Previous | Present | Next

AO3 Link

Hi, apparently I don’t know how to write 2k chapters anymore, guys I’m sorry.  Special thanks to @theeternalspace for her continued support for this AU in terms of brainstorming/cheering me on and to @stillebesat who beta’d this chapter, helping point out plot inconsistencies & grammar stuff. 

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“Hey Virgil, it’s time to get up.”

Virgil grumbled, shifting in his bed, “Don’t wanna.”

A chuckle, “Are you sure? Your dad is making his world-famous pancakes. Better get up before he eats them all himself.”

“Pancakes?” Virgil asked, looking up at last at his mother. Her dark hair was pulled into a loose side ponytail rather than her typical bun. Little curly wisps escaped the ponytail, kindly framing her face. She wore a yellow sweater with a goofy sloth face on it, something that was definitely his father’s.

“I knew that would get your attention, my little poet.” She grinned, affectionately booping his nose.

“Moooom,” Virgil groaned, because he was nearly thirteen and entering preteen angst. He was too old for boops and cutesy nicknames. His parents didn’t quite seem to get the memo just yet.

Mom kept smiling at him, wide and bright. Like she knew something he didn’t.

“What?” Virgil demanded, tilting his head sideways in confusion.

“Oh nothing,” She said, hands gently cusping the sides of his face, “I’m just thinking of how old you’re getting and how proud I am of you.”

“For what?” Virgil asked, confused by her words. He knew his parents loved him. They often proclaimed that with words and hugs. He could take being loved. But being proud of him? That was a completely new territory. He hadn’t done anything to earn this sentiment. He wasn’t the Grade A Student or the Star Athlete. He was just Virgil. An anxious preteen who liked listening to MCR. He didn’t get why his mom would be proud of that.

“Because you never give up, regardless of what life throws at you.” Mom said softly before pressing a kiss to his forehead, “I love you, Virgil.”

“Love you too,” Virgil mumbled, cheeks burning as he threw his arms around Mom for a quick hug. Never gave up? He wasn’t sure if that aptly described him. He felt like a colossal coward, one who always ran from his problems rather than face them. Maybe he’d managed to trick his parents into thinking otherwise. A pang of guilt hit him from that thought. Like a dodgeball during recess. Still, he couldn’t deny the warm, grateful feeling that crept inside of him.

Virgil withdrew from the hug and leapt out of his bed. When he reached the doorway, he paused to turn back at his mother, “C’mon! We have to go downstairs before Dad eats all the pancakes, remember?”

 “Oh yes,” His mother said, following behind him, “how could I ever forget that?”

As they descended down the stairs, Virgil could hear pancake batter sizzling and his father’s attempts at singing.

“Just a small town giiiiirl, living in a lonely wooooorld!”

Virgil loved his dad, just as much as his mom. He loved how enthusiastic the man could be. His dad put his whole heart into everything he did. Even if he wasn’t great at them. It was an admirable quality to be sure. It still didn’t mean Virgil didn’t wince a tiny bit from his dad’s screechy singing.

“Please make it stop,” Virgil whispered underneath his breath.

His mom shook her head, looking more amused than anything else. He supposed it had something to do with how they first met doing a duet at a karaoke bar. He heard the story a gazillion times by now, but it never got old. Especially with his father adding new details every iteration. His mom would hover nearby, correcting him in an exasperated but loving way.

“Hello Dearest.” Mom said, startling Virgil out of his thoughts. He looked up to see they were already in the kitchen. Huh. He must’ve gotten lost in his thoughts or something.

Dad gasped, putting a hand to his chest in a playful offended way, “Love, is that my sweater?!”

Virgil’s mom easily towered him by a few good inches. Some people made fun of Virgil’s parents because of that. They said it was weird for the woman to be the taller one in a relationship. Virgil never understood that arbitrary reasoning. Not when his father looked up at his mother like she was his whole universe. His whole sun, moon, stars and everything.

“Is it? I found it lodged in my drawer. Almost like someone hastily stuffed it in there without paying attention to which dresser they placed it in.”

His dad spluttered at a loss for words and Virgil snorted. He couldn’t help it. Not when his dad was a walking, breathing cartoon character. Anyone could read him like a book from his facial expressions alone. He kept spluttering, his eyebrows nearly flying off his face and eyes as wide as saucers. One unsubtle wink directed towards Virgil told him that it was mostly an act on his part.

 “Well, uh, may I offer you in some….pam-cakes?” His dad asked, redirecting the topic from his haphazard attempt at house cleaning.

Pamcakes. A pun on his mother’s name—Pamela. Oh my god, he said that every time. His mom always rolled her eyes at it, lips pressed together to keep from smiling. She was supposed to be the stoic foiling his comedic. Yet it fooled nobody at all. It was why his dad did it every time, knowing she secretly loved it.

Mom rolled her eyes as always before leaning down to accept a kiss from him, “You may.”

“Really? Right in front of my pancakes?” Virgil said, pretending to gag. As a growing preteen, it wasn’t cool to have your parents be all mushy in front of you. Even if he still thought of them as the coolest Mom and Dad ever. They chuckled, breaking off the kiss.

“Virgil, someday you will find someone you love very much and then you’ll understand why I am obligated to kiss your mother every time I see her.” His father grinned, flipping the last set of pancakes on the griddle.

“No I won’t, because kissing is gross.” Virgil said, childishly sticking his tongue out because technically he was still a child.

“Afraid of catching cooties?” Mom teased.

“I know those aren’t real, Mom.”

“I wouldn’t be so certain of that,” His father said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, “The Cootius Amor is a very real disease. I was under the affliction of it, suffering heart palpitations and an upset stomach. You know what saved me?”

“What?” Virgil asked, despite being suspicious that he knew the answer.

“Your mother!” He fake-swooned, taking the pancakes off the griddle and bringing them to the kitchen table. Mom snorted, trying to maintain a calm composure and failing.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I think you mean ridiculously in love with you.” Dad said, grinning widely when he managed to get an actual laugh from her this time. Then they kissed again, causing Virgil to groan yet again from the syrupy sweetness of it all. But he wouldn’t have any other way. This moment was perfect, a moment he could relive a million times. He knew this, because he had done so.

In this perfect idyllic moment a startling realization hit Virgil. Something he always inevitably realized. Something that he should’ve realized from the start. Something he wished wasn’t true. Because this moment, this shadow of the past, this wasn’t real. He hadn’t been twelve years old for awhile now. A decade almost. The same amount of time since he’d last seen his parents alive and in the flesh. 

This was all just a dream.

God, every time he had this realization it hurt so much. Sometimes he was able to forget his parents were dead. He’d gotten very good over the years at distracting himself. The truth felt far-off in the distance, almost unreal. He envisioned them as simply being elsewhere. Too busy for him to call or visit. As much as that illusion hurt, it was better than simply accepting reality.

Other times, he was forced to be very cognizant of their deaths. The hole in his heart became an expanding void. One that threatened to engulf him whole. Those times he just wanted to lay in his room and just cry. Where all he wanted was their comforting embrace, their words of assurance. But he couldn’t. He wasn’t allowed that. It’d been almost ten years—you’d think by now he would be past the grief.

But accepting their deaths almost felt like a betrayal. Almost as if he believed they were still alive hard enough, then it’d come true. They would come find him and be a family again. If he accepted their deaths, they’d be lost to him forever. He knew it was stupid and didn’t make sense. It still didn’t stop him from trying.

As uncertain as Virgil lived his life, he’d always known without a doubt they loved him. When he made mistakes or failed, they didn’t berate him. Rather, they came alongside him to help him understand and grow past them. So of course fate snatched away the most important people in his short lifespan. He missed them so much.

This was what made dreams like this difficult. Because for a brief moment, everything was back to normal again. They were always so vivid too. He fell for it every single time. It was cruel to gain them back in this temporary sort-of way. As cruel reality crashed into him every time upon waking up. It made him simultaneously want to sleep forever and not at all.

“Virgil, are you with us, bud?”

A hand touched his shoulder, shaking it gently. Virgil didn’t feel it.

“Little poet, your dad and I had a talk regarding your birthday—”

“—tell you something—”

“Virgil, please listen—"

Virgil’s lungs seized up. His breaths came out short and shuddery like a car engine struggling to start. Tears stung his eyes as a harsh sob escaped him. Mom? Dad? He couldn’t hear their voices anymore. Nor was he sitting at the kitchen table, bright light streaming into the window. He laid on a soft surface, his surroundings dark and murky. He was awake.

Awake and with the wound of his dead parents ripped open again. He bit back another sob, sweeping the grief underneath a metaphorical rug. Just like his dad and his cleaning tactics. Maybe Virgil did take more after Dad than he thought he did.

He forced himself to breathe, taking in one shaky breath in at a time. He’d managed to get it mostly under control when an alarm blared. A loud, discordant sound of chaos in the midst of stoic silence. Virgil screamed in fright, hitting his head on something as he jolted forwards. Work—he had work today, didn’t he? Cathy was going to be upset if he was late again—wait no. That wasn’t right. He didn’t work there anymore.

The alarm wasn’t right either. It sounded different than the one on his phone. He glanced around the room, aptly thinking, “Well, this isn’t my room.”

It was dark to discern much, but the one key factor was the window. It had a thick shade better at blocking out sunlight than Virgil’s blanket-duct-taped-to-the-window solution. The bed was nicer, the bedsheet soft and not as threadbare worn as Virgil’s. Where was he?

He couldn’t remember. It was nothing but fuzzy tv static sizzling inside of his brain. Like someone changed channels and he didn’t have the remote to change it back. Oh god, please don’t tell him he drank too much and went home with a complete stranger. He couldn’t handle even the thought of it.

Something shifted above him, causing him to realize this was a bunk bed. It creaked as a blanket dropped to the floor. Or rather, a blanket containing a bundle of something.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Blanket Bundle muttered, slapping a blanket-covered appendage over the Alarm’s OFF button. Virgil inhaled sharply, causing Blanket Bundle’s attention to snap towards him. Fizzy, curly hair spilled out of the blanket, framing a very recognizable face; Remy. He stood there, black shades absent. Virgil had seen him without them before, of course, but it was weird. 

He couldn’t shake the image of Remy with red eyes. Even though Remy currently stared at him with hazel eyes, an unidentifiable emotion within them. His eyebrows slightly raised, his lips curved downwards. Remy almost looked…worried. But then he cleared his throat and with it his expression changed at once.

“Hey Virge,” Remy greeted, casual and cool as usual, “How are you doing? Did you get good beauty sleep?”

Virgil hated that first question. It was too big and ambiguous. Way too much currently for his brain to grasp. Not to mention nobody truly cared about the answer to the question. It was just a thing people were required to ask others. As to the second question, well. He definitely didn’t get good beauty sleep. So he decided to answer neither of them.

“I’m hungry.” Virgil croaked, surprised by the hoarseness of his voice.

“Breakfast yes,” Remy nodded sagely, “The most important meal of the day. Follow me this way, my good homo sapien.”

“Homo sapien?”

“I’m practicing vocab terms for biology,” Remy rolled his eyes, “Like gurl, do not get me started on my biology professor. She’s part of the rhetoric that refuses to see vampires, homo sanguis, as anything but diseased homines. Like, I can’t even!”

He paused, as if waiting for a response. Virgil offered nothing but a blank stare in return. Something was wrong. He didn’t know what. He still couldn’t remember how he ended up at Remy’s dorm room.

 There was also Remy’s behavior to consider. The vampire was a flurry of activity as always. Never one to remain still if he could help it. He moved about the room, putting his sunglasses on as he ranted. Yet something rubbed Virgil the wrong way about it. Virgil couldn’t tell if he was reading into things but it was too fluid and smooth. Perfect to a degree that was unlike Remy’s usual chaotic brand of energy. 

“Anyways,” Remy said, rolling his eyes, “I may be a ‘diseased human frothing at the mouth for blood’ but even I have learned some basic skills like cooking to blend in.”

“I don’t even know how to cook.” Virgil blurted out.

“Yeah well neither did Betsy back in the fifties but did that stop her from criticizing my prized quiche? Oh no!”

Virgil followed Remy into the small dingy dorm kitchen, still baffled as hell. As much as that confusion ramped up his anxiety, a small part of him wanted it to stay that way. It warned him he might not like the truth. In the same way he tried ignoring the reality of his parents’ death.

“So!” Remy said, rummaging through the cupboards, “What are you hungry for? Pancakes or omelets?”

“Omelet please.” Virgil muttered, barely withholding a shudder. He didn’t think he could stomach pancakes after that dream with his parents. He sat on a stool, his legs tucked close to his chest.

Remy, thankfully, didn’t comment on it.

“Good choice, my roommate would probably murder me if I took from his pancake mix. Even though he definitely drank the last of the OJ and left the jug in there, biiiiitch. Good thing he’s not here because I’d give a piece of my mind. He’s not getting away with that easily, no mad’m!”

He casted a look towards Virgil as if saying “Roommates am I right?” and Virgil forced a laugh. It was a pastime of theirs to complain about their roommates. Alongside with discussing their favorite bands, of course.

Remy cracked eggs against the frying pan, his mouth still going a mile a minute. He flipped from one topic to the next, never settling on one for long. There was a high pitch to his voice, an almost nervous energy to it. Like he was putting on a performance for Virgil. Something for him to take comfort and solace in. It grated on Virgil’s nerves. Virgil wanted to call him out on it. He wanted to demand Remy to cut it out. He wanted to know what was going on.

Yet, fear held him back. It clamped down on his throat, like a bear trap and refused to let go. It told him it was better to say nothing than to possibly risk inciting Remy’s ire. Even if Remy had never been angry with Virgil before, did he really want this to be the first time?

So he sat there, too foggy-brained and half-asleep to say something. Or at least, that was what he told himself. A small part of him appreciated the mindless chatter Remy provided. It was a distraction from the daunting feeling he was forgetting something important.

He went to pull out his phone. Just to check the time—maybe scroll through tumblr real quick. Nothing big. He slipped his hand into his pocket, coming into contact with something jagged. Not smooth.

The tv static in his mind dissipated. Crystal clear HD images flooded his mind. The text from Patton. Jerad jeering. The chase around the apartment. Jerad gripping his wrist, squeezing it tightly like a boa constrictor. Dangling over the street far below. So close to plunging to his death. His phone falling, falling, falling to the ground. Into a tiny million pieces. Virgil fleeing, panic pulsing through his veins. Remy? Remy was there. He comforted him. But none of that made any sense. Just like a dream. It had to be a dream. No, a nightmare.

….He had to wake up.

Wake up, wake up, wAKE UP!

“Virgil!” 

Someone shouted something. His name? He couldn’t tell for sure over the raging storm of panic consuming him. Just like it did last night. No that wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. If he repeated that to himself, it’d come true. As true as his parents weren’t dead. Just simply…not around.

Burning. The smell of burnt food invaded his nostrils. He tasted something salty. Tears? He felt a wetness on his face. A hand rested upon his own, fingers thrumming against his knuckles. Singing. A voice low and strained. As if overcome by some sort of emotion.

“We’ll carry on, we’ll carry on, and though you’re dead and gone believe me—”

“Your memory will carry on.” Virgil croaked, causing the voice to stop.

He didn’t wake up. He still sat on the kitchen stool. Only now Remy sat beside him. His expression indiscernible due to his sunglasses. The broken pieces of his phone still dug into his hip. Virgil always found reality more frightening than nightmares could ever be. At least you could escape nightmares. You couldn’t do that with reality. At least not as easily. Virgil swallowed.

“Remy?”

“Yeah?”

“I think the eggs are burning.”

“Well fuck the eggs,” Remy scowled, expression softening as he squeezed Virgil’s hand, “Right now the only thing I care about is making sure you’re okay.”

The intensity of Remy’s words spooked Virgil a bit.

“Well, maybe you should turn the burner off? Just in case it starts a fire?” Virgil suggested weakly. 

Remy stared at him for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly and rose to do just that. He leaned against the counter, facing Virgil once more. His lips twitched downwards but he otherwise maintained a blank exterior.

“Virgil, are you gucci?”

“I’m fine.” Virgil said before he could even think.

“Are you sure of that, hun?” Remy said, raising an eyebrow, “because I found outside my dorm last night and you didn’t know who I was at first. And then—just now…”

“Wait, you found me outside your dorm?” Virgil gaped.

He didn’t pick a particular destination when he started running. He just ran and ran, the world one big blurry ball of nothingness. Did he subconsciously run to Remy, hoping to receive comfort? What did that say about him? For being so needy and dependent on Remy? No wonder he seemed so upset!

“Virge, did someone hurt you?” Remy asked.

Virgil jolted, completely unprepared for this question. It seemed to come out of nowhere, not at all connected to the conversation at hand. Remy’s eyes drifted away from his face, looking at something in Virgil’s general vicinity.  He followed Remy’s gaze to a purple splotchy bruise on his wrist, its tendrils spreading out like a spiderweb. No, a hand. Jerad’s hand. Squeezing like a claw machine and he the hapless stuffed animal trapped in its grip. Virgil’s breath hitched.

“Nobody, I—I just hit my hand against a doorknob, that’s all.”

Remy’s frown deepened. He stepped towards Virgil, who barely repressed a flinch. He looked away, unable to maintain eye contact. Not with the unusual ferocity that emanated from Remy.

“Vee, I’m serious,” Remy whispered, crouching beside him, “I don’t care who it is. If it’s that idiot pup again or even Boss Man. Tell me their name and I’ll beat them up for you.”

Virgil’s breath hitched. Remy was a vampire--one that happened to be centuries old. He’d known this, of course, for some time now. But during that moment, the full weight of it Virgil. Even if Remy didn’t drink human blood now, he had to at one point. Right? Or at the very least, you don’t live that long without committing some violence acts. Did he really know the real Remy?

Paranoia aside, he couldn’t fight other what-ifs attacking him. What if Jerad hurt Remy? What if Jerad found out about Remy’s a vampire? What if Virgil caused the death of his first true friend in a decade?

“N—no one. It’s no one, Rem, I swear,” Virgil said, fear coiling around him like a python, “It’s just sometimes, I get panic attacks. L—like they suck and stuff, but there’s nothing I can really do about it.”

He snuck a gaze up at the vampire, heart hammering away at his chest. Remy’s eyes peered above his sunglasses, narrowed. Remy didn’t believe him. He didn’t need verbal confirmation, he just knew it. Virgil gripped the side of the breakfast bar, searching. Looking for something, anything to help him escape this conversation. A clock. One of those digital ones that contained both the date and time. Tuesday, 9:51AM.

“Okay I won’t—”

“I have to go.” Virgil interrupted, shooting up from the stool. So abruptly that the stool fell onto the floor with a crash. “I—I’m going to be late. I’m supposed to be at work by now—oh my god Logan’s gonna kill me.”

“Wait!” Remy stepped in front of him, “I think you should play hooky.”

“What?” Virgil said, one decimal away from screeching.

“Call out of work,” Remy suggested, “Logan will understand. He’s not that bitch Cathy. And if he doesn’t, I’ll make him.”

For a second he saw the flash of someone else in Remy’s place. A huge, hulking silhouette. A shudder ran through Virgil’s spine. He moved away from Remy, shaking his head.

“No, no, it’s fine—I’ll be fine. I have to go. I just—” Virgil took off, unable to finish that sentence without a sob escaping.

He ran out of the dorm, out of the university campus and to the city beyond. He ran, running from his problems like always.

“Virgil!”

He shrieked, halting to a complete stop. Remy was there, almost as if he just appeared. Out of thin air, no less. Because with Virgil’s head start, he shouldn’t have been able to get to his side so easily.

“What, Remy?” Virgil snapped, hands forming fists at his sides. He couldn’t do this, not now.

Remy didn’t recoil. His sunglasses fully covered his eyes, masking his expression again. Instead he offered something black and soft towards Virgil. A black jacket, one Virgil never saw him wear before.

“It’s always pretty chilly in the library, you know.” Remy shrugged, looking away.

Virgil saw through Remy’s words. He was offering him a way to hide the bruise from visible view. Something that hadn’t crossed Virgil’s mind, really.

“Thanks.” Virgil swallowed, taking the jacket. He slipped it on and left without saying anything else.

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When he slammed Logan’s office door open, he expected to be faced with lots of angry lecturing for his tardiness.  He did not expect concern and understanding from Logan. Like, at all. Somehow that scared him more than the alternative. Why was Logan being so lenient with him?

Sure, today was a fluke. He was usually great at being there on time. A tiny bit of him was relieved about it after everything. The rest of him held its breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. While it didn’t exactly drop just yet…well. The black jacket Remy gave him hadn’t completely worked.

“Virgil, who gave you that bruise?” Logan asked, staring into the depths of his very soul.

He’d freaked out at that question. Just like Remy, but worse. He spoke sharply to a werewolf who growled at him just seconds prior. Logan had been upset to see that bruise—just like Remy. Most people appreciated others showing an interest in their wellbeing. Not Virgil. It terrified him for reasons he didn’t quite understand himself.

The rest of work resumed as usual. Virgil drowned himself in the mundanity. The only thing that existed in the entire world was the library. His whole purpose? Working the front desk. Helping patrons the best he could. Sorting and putting books away. Telling a rowdy studying group to quiet down. Before he knew it, he was clocking out for the day.

That was when everything threatened to fall apart. He didn’t have anywhere to spend the night. He couldn’t crash at Remy’s again. Because if he asked Remy, then the vampire would really know something was up. When it wasn’t, not really. Just a spat between roommates. Sure, it ended in a broken phone, but it could’ve been worse. Like falling to one’s death—

Virgil took a deep breath as he walked the front entrance of the library. His movements stiff and mechanical. As if someone else was manipulating him to walk like strings to a puppet. He could do this. He just had to take things one step at a time. Literally.

Step one, leave the library. Simple, easy. He could do that. Once outside, he’d figure out the rest. Step two? Find somewhere to stay the night. Less easy.

The library’s automatic doors slid open and the last bright, brilliant rays of the sunset greeted him. A swarm of blackness attacked him next. He jerked backwards, hands automatically reaching to grapple with the thing that caused it. He stared down, eyes stinging, at a very familiar black plaid hoodie.

 “You actually caught it! I thought you’d fumble it like a dumbass.”

Virgil stopped breathing; Jerad. He stood there, hands haughtily crossed against his chest. Had he been waiting outside for Virgil? And if so, for how long? Virgil couldn’t take him on in a fight. He had to flee—run back into the library. He didn’t move. He remained rooted to the spot, muscles locked in place as Jerad advanced. To pummel him, or worse yet—kill him.

All color left his face as Jerad raised his arms and…hugged him? Or at least Jerad’s version of a hug. A tight, vindictive squeeze that Virgil had grown used to over the years. It still did nothing to diminish the fear swelling inside of him.

“Aww man, you should see your face! You look like you thought I was gonna punk ya!” Jerad crowed as he released Virgil.

“I—you—the phone.” Virgil stammered, unable to form complete sentences. Jerad didn’t get angry. He just laughed, slapping Virgil’s back in what was a friendly gesture. Virgil winced despite it.

“Oh that! Shit man, you know I don’t really mean anything when I lose my temper. I just can’t control it, ya know?”

Virgil silently nodded, unable to trust his voice in the moment.

“Besides, that thing was old and already falling apart! You know what you need? The latest greatest current smartphone out there! My treat!”

“Wha—” Virgil barely squeaked out before Jerad dragged him off to a cell-phone store. Jerad rambled about stuff on the way there. Virgil couldn’t hear him over the roaring of his heartbeat in his ears. He clung to his hoodie in one arm as if it was a stuffed animal. He couldn’t think. His mind was a myriad of white noise. This couldn't be real, right? He had to have fainted or something. Please let it be so.

“—huh, Virgil? What do you think of this one?” Jerad said, nudging him.

Virgil blinked, spooked to be faced with a display of smartphones. Somehow, they were already at the store. He bit his lip, eyes widening at the price tag.

“I—it’s—I don’t know,” He glanced over to a cheaper phone at the other end of the display, “I like that one.”

“C’mon Virgo! This one comes with a protective screen cover! That other one doesn’t,” Jerad scoffed, leaning in closer, “Do you really want another shitty phone that’ll break like your last one?”

Those words sparked a rage inside Virgil. A fire burned in the pit of his stomach as words materialized at the tip of his tongue. It was Jerad who threw the phone from a five-story balcony. Jerad who always mocked Virgil and acted like throwing money at the problem solved a situation when it didn’t. Not really. Jerad who insulted his friends. Virgil wanted to scream at the top of his throat obscenities at him.

“N-no.” Someone said out loud, shaky and uncertain. 

Virgil jumped a bit at the sound, glancing to see who it was. It sounded familiar. He looked to see Jerad staring right at him, smirking. His stomach churned as a wave of realization crashed into him. Oh, oh. That had been him, he’d been the one to say that. But why? That had been the exact opposite of what he meant to say!

He didn’t have much time to process it before Jerad clasped him on the shoulder, chuckling.

“That’s what I thought! Lemme just—”

A loud obnoxious 80s rock song interrupted him. Jerad fished his phone out of his pocket, groaning upon seeing the caller id.

“Ugh, it’s my mom again. You’re lucky your parents are dead, Virgin, because they are so fucking annoying.” Jerad rolled his eyes, declining the call as he strode off to find a store associate.

Virgil stood there, withholding a flinch. Because he knew if his parents were still alive, they wouldn’t be proud of their son. They’d be absolutely repulsed by his cowardice.

He watched as Jerad chatted up the store associate, his back facing Virgil. If he couldn’t stand up to Jerad—this was it. This was his chance to flee. To run off while Jerad was distracted. Maybe he could run to Remy again. They could get an apartment together, away from both their annoying roommates. They’d laugh together and watch awful movies for the sake of ridiculing them.

 They’d be the best of friends until Remy grew sick of him. Until Virgil became annoying and obsolete to discard like an old flip-phone. Remy was immortal, just like Patton and Logan. It was really all a matter of time before they confirmed his suspicions. They’d get tired of him. It happened. It always happened to everyone in Virgil’s life. Why wouldn’t it happen to them? They’ll eventually grow tired of him and he’ll become their next meal. He’d be an idiot to think any other way.

Virgil turned to look back down at the phone display. He swallowed, unable to dislodge the lump in his throat. His vision spun a bit, his stomach nauseous. He couldn’t move a muscle, just like a statue. Perhaps he could try becoming one. All they did was remain motionless all day and let pigeons poop on them. He’d be better at that than being a human being.

“Virgil!” A hand took hold of his shoulder, forcibly turning his body around to face a new direction. Virgil glanced briefly down to see he was still flesh-and-blood. Not a ivory stone statue, free of all his troubles and misery.

“Virgil, this is Jeff,” Jerad said, gesturing to the store associate, “He’s gonna help with getting your new swanking, danking phone!” Jerad fist-pumped the air, letting out a whoop. 

Virgil locked eyes with the poor slightly frazzled store associate named Jeff and did a small nod of recognition. As if to say, “I’m sorry to be the cause of your agony.”

He knew what it was like to deal with customers like Jerad. He hated knowing it was his fault they were in the phone store in the first place. Virgil sharply exhaled, eyes blinking rapidly to stop the tears from forming. If he couldn’t keep himself from crying then he was truly pathetic.

His awareness grew blurry, almost foggy. His body moved out of its own accord, nodding along to the conversation and following after Jerad. Normally this type of thing would’ve freaked him out.  Given all the panic already present in his body, it might’ve killed him on the spot. Instead he couldn’t bring himself to feel the twinges of anxiety. Or frustration, anger, disgust. Nothing. A numbness took hold of him, wrapping around him in a cold embrace.

Jerad purchased the new phone, true to his word. He fiddled with it on the walk back to the apartment, ogling over its features. Virgil’s legs faithfully kept walking, each step closer to the apartment. His heart beat right on time, his breaths slow and even.

“Let’s take the stairs, get some exercise in today.” Jerad suggested and Virgil’s head jerked in agreement. They took the stairs, five flights and all. Virgil wheezed at the end of it. The pain of getting insufficient oxygen made him feel alive again for the briefest of moments. It ended sharply with Jerad laughing as he patted Virgil’s back.

“I see someone skipped leg day!”

A feeble imitation of a laugh croaked from Virgil’s lips. Jerad shoved his key into their apartment door and unlocked it. Virgil followed him in. Jerad stopped abruptly in the middle of the living room, causing Virgil to almost run into him. He turned around, the new phone clasped in one hand.

“Hey man,” Jerad began, offering the phone toward Virgil, “we cool?”

Virgil spat in his face.

Or at least that sounded better than what actually happened. 

“Yeah, thanks.” Virgil said. He took the phone from Jerad and headed off to his room. 

He sat on his crappy bed, swaddled in his raggedy purple blanket. He looked at the phone, at its glossy smooth screen. It was fine. Everything was fine. Virgil had just overreacted, that was all.

Jerad was not that bad of a guy. He was a jerk, yes. He liked to jerk Virgil at times, get inside his head. He was the jerk that threw Virgil’s phone down a five-story balcony. But he was a jerk who made up by purchasing a brand new one. The phone currently in Virgil’s hand.

His old phone couldn’t compare with this one. Not with its cracked screen and bad battery. This new phone had the latest technological achievements and best camera lens. He wouldn’t have this if it wasn’t for Jerad.

It didn’t stop him from wanting his old phone back. He’d felt so proud to own it after scraping and saving for it. It was dumb but he’d named it Taran and treated it almost like a friend, no more than that. A lifeline that got him through life no matter what punches it threw at him.

 It was okay. He knew eventually it’d break on him. It didn’t matter how it broke in the end. Really, it didn’t. He just needed to move on and stop mourning an inanimate object. Maybe he could name this new phone Taran II in remembrance or something. It was fine.

Virgil kept staring down at the phone, into his reflection in the phone-screen. He looked past greasy hair and dark eyebags into dull, defeated eyes.

He threw the phone onto the ground, unable to bear the sight any longer. He curled up in his bed, head firmly pressed against his pillow, and cried.

[zen3to5]

J/H 6-16: Man With Money

Continuing the trend of refocusing the arc kicked off by Jackie's mom to actually be about Jackie...

FF.Net AO3

***

SHOW TITLE   INT. FORMAN BASEMENT – NIGHT   A small section of the gang laze around – HYDE in his chair, DONNA on one end of the couch and FEZ on the other, KELSO in the lawn chair. Kelso and Fez are dressed rather “sporty” for just sitting around.   ERIC comes down the stairs, wearing an extremely ‘70s three-piece orange suit with a brown shirt and awful tie. He pauses at the landing and strikes a pose.   ERIC: Well? Is orange my color?   HYDE: If you’re planning on being ringmaster at the pumpkin patch carnival this Halloween.   Eric strolls down the rest of the way, sits next to Donna on the couch. He notices her and Hyde’s casual attire.   ERIC: You two aren’t dressing up? Come on – it’s a cocktail party.   DONNA: It’s your parents’ cocktail party. You’ve never even wanted to go to one before, let alone dress for it.   ERIC: Hey, I’m an engaged man, Donna, soon to be married. It’s time to start showing a little class and maturity at social events.   DONNA: You’re in that suit because my dad’s bringing Jackie’s mom, aren’t you?   ERIC: That might have something to do with it.   KELSO: Man, Pam Burkhart. One time, back when I was dating Jackie, Pam was trying to wash her car, right, and she leaned over and, like, squeezed out the sponge. That’s all I remember, ‘cause I rode my bike straight into a tree. She’s why I’m dressed up.   FEZ: Me too. She is like a glorious golden sun goddess looking for strapping young temple boys. Mexico was very good to her.   He, Kelso, and Eric all sigh and gaze dreamily up to the ceiling.   HYDE: Hey, can we shut up about Pam?   KELSO: Hyde, if you’ve got a better subject of conversation than the finest set of T and A on any of our moms, I don’t think I wanna hear it.   HYDE: Yeah, well, that great T and A are on a lousy mom who ditched their kid, and now that she’s back, Jackie’s a mess. There’s so much crying going on in my room, I’m gonna need a drainage pump or an Aqua-Lung.   KELSO: Oh, like in Creature from the Black Lagoon? The chick in that movie is pretty smokin’ too.   FEZ: (gasps) If you put her together with Mrs. Burkhart, you have the sun and water goddesses!   He, Kelso, and Eric look up and sigh again.   HYDE: I just need everyone to zip it about Pam before Jackie gets here.   DONNA: Yeah, and definitely don’t say anything about her mom dating my dad. Jackie doesn’t know yet, and we haven’t figured out how to tell her.   As Donna says the back half of that line, JACKIE comes down the stairs.   JACKIE: Tell me what?   She sits in Hyde’s lap and looks to Donna, expecting.   DONNA: Um... that Hyde signed you up for ballroom dance lessons.   JACKIE/HYDE: What?   They look to each other. Jackie is beaming; Hyde doesn’t know what the hell just happened.   JACKIE: I can’t believe you finally agreed to that!   HYDE: (glares at Donna) Neither can I.   KELSO: (laughing) Hyde in dance class?   HYDE: Man, you know why they call it a “ballroom?” ‘Cause that’s what they might as well cut off every man who sets foot in one.   JACKIE: Okay, I know I’m going to have to put up with a lot of complaining like that, but I’m finally going to have you out on the dance floor in a tuxedo, so I don’t care!   She throws her arms around his neck, kisses his cheek, and cuddles.   FEZ: (to Hyde) Why didn’t you start the lessons sooner so you could show them off at the cocktail party? You know Bob and Pam are going to strut their stuff as soon as the music comes on. We all heard about their date at the disco.   Jackie’s head snaps up.   JACKIE: My mom and Donna’s dad are dating?   She looks around the room; no one can meet her eyes except for Hyde, who gives a small, reluctant nod.   Jackie jumps out of Hyde’s lap and runs into his room.   HYDE: Jackie, wait!   He starts after her. He pauses long enough to lean over the back of the couch and point a threatening finger at Fez.   HYDE (cont’d): If I don’t drown, I’m kicking your ass!   He disappears into his room as Fez sinks down into the couch.

MAIN CREDITS   BUMPER   MUSIC NOTE: “Mack the Knife” performed by Louis Armstrong.   INT. FORMAN LIVING ROOM – NIGHT   Cocktails with the Formans. It isn’t a large party – just a few older couples, spread out through the living room. “Mack the Knife” plays on the record player. RED, manning the home bar, even sings along. KITTY, fresh from the kitchen with a tray of hors d’oeuvres, sets it on the coffee table and half-walks, half-dances over to him.   RED: (singing) When the shark bites With his teeth, dear...   KITTY: Well, you’re awfully happy.   RED: I’m hittin’ the hard booze for the first time since the heart attack, Kitty. Life is worth living again. Plus, chances are everyone here’s getting hammered, so I get to have the cops tow everyone’s car.   The front door opens, and in walk BOB and PAM, hand-in-hand. Pam is overdressed in a rather scandalous gown. They head straight for the bar.   BOB: Hey, everybody. I brought a date! Look how tall she is. It’s like I’m dating the Statue of Liberty.   KITTY: Oh, Kitty, I just love coming over to your house. You have such unique tastes. It’s like being at a giant flea market. (taps the bar) Tequila Sunrise and keep ‘em coming, Red.   Red gives her a small smile, nods, and gets to work. Kitty eyes him; he should have made a sharp remark by now.   Eric strolls in from the kitchen, immediately crosses to Pam. Donna, with much less enthusiasm, is a few steps behind him.   ERIC: Mrs. Burkhart? That’s weird. Golly, I didn’t know you were dropping by.   DONNA: (to Eric) Yeah, you did. I told you she was. And you just said that’s why you were wearing your tacky, pumpkin-colored suit.   ERIC: I’m sorry, Donna. I think you’ve confused “tacky” with “handsome.” (to Pam) Which – I don’t mean to brag, but...   He laughs, strikes a pose, and leads her into the party, Bob in tow. They don’t get very far, however, before Kelso and Fez rush in from the kitchen.   KELSO: Where is she? What’s she wearing?   They join Bob and Eric in crowding around Pam, who seems a little too pleased with all the attention.   Donna shakes her head. Kitty taps on the bar.   KITTY: Tall Manhattan and keep ‘em coming, Red.   Red gives a curt nod, gets to work. Donna and Kitty watch as Pam sits down in Red’s chair and crosses her legs.   KITTY (cont’d): Oh, look at her. (to Red) Would you ever want me to show that much leg?   RED: Absolutely not.   KITTY: (beat) And why not?   RED: (frowns) You set me up.   Kitty just glares at him in reply. She snatches her finished drink from his hands and moves into the party. Red looks to Donna, as if for answers; she just shrugs.   Over at Red’s chair, the boys are at rapt attention as Pam shares a story.   PAM: So that’s when I realized that tapas sounds a lot like “topless.” But, I had already promised, so...   BOB: (to the boys) Ah, she’s got it all – looks and beauty.   ERIC: So, Mrs. Burkhart – have, um... have you ever seen The Graduate?   Before she can answer, Jackie and Hyde enter from the kitchen. Pam rises, crosses with Bob to meet them. The boys disperse into the party.   PAM: (to Jackie) Hi, honey. I was hoping you’d be here.   Jackie doesn’t so much as look at Pam. Instead, she turns to Hyde.   JACKIE: So Steven, I love that new figurine you got me for my birthday. It’s a unicorn, which is sweet, but you stole it out of a rich person’s yard, which is so foxy.   Pam, scandalized, gapes at Hyde; he just grins back.   BOB: Jackie, your mother’s talking to you.   Jackie doesn’t look at Bob either.   JACKIE: (to Hyde) Boy, I hope the Formans don’t need to call a repairman for their stove. I think I smell a gas leak.   She moves past Pam and Bob to get at the hors d’oeuvres on the coffee table.   HYDE: (to Pam & Bob) The silent treatment. I’m not usually on the outside watching it. That’s good stuff.   He moves past them to follow Jackie. They sit down next to each other on the couch and snack. Donna crosses to them, sits on the other side of Jackie.   DONNA: Okay, Jackie, I know that was a lousy way to find out your mom and my dad are dating, but you’re with me now in wanting them to stop seeing each other, right?   Jackie doesn’t answer or meet Donna’s eyes. Her snacking gets faster, the bites sharper. Hyde notices; Donna doesn’t.   DONNA (cont’d): You know my dad’s buying a hot tub now? With a euphoria jet? He said, (doing Bob) “I have all this extra money, and Pammy’s helping me spend some.” (normal voice) Well, “Pammy” sure doesn’t waste any time before she starts tapping the first national bank of “lonely rich guy.”   Jackie, still not looking up at Donna, snaps a toothpick in her hands.   HYDE: (warning) Donna...   DONNA: (to Jackie) God, why can’t my dad see that your mom is nothing but a tramp?   Jackie jumps to her feet.   JACKIE: Oh, you shut up about my mom! She should be going after a cool rich guy, like Jack Nicholson or a Bee Gee. Your Bob of a dad is lucky she settled for him as a meal ticket!   DONNA: Excuse me? You’re saying my dad’s not good enough?   JACKIE: Oh, so you see it too!   She turns heel and disappears back into the kitchen.   DONNA: (to Hyde) What the hell was that? She talks about what a gold digger her mom is all the time!   HYDE: (stands) Hey, Donna, you know how Jackie just told you to shut up?   DONNA: Yeah...   HYDE: Shut up!   He follows after Jackie. Donna shakes her head and throws her hands up.   At the front of the room, Fez and Kelso try to make their way to the kitchen door with a bottle of gin tucked into Kelso’s blazer. Kitty intercepts them at Red’s chair.   KITTY: Oh, I cannot believe you kids! Trying to sneak off with my good gin.   She takes the bottle and starts for the bar.   KELSO: (to Fez) Yeah, I shoulda known. She can smell booze from a mile away.   He isn’t as quiet as he thinks; Kitty turns around, and Red comes over from the bar.   KITTY: Excuse me?   KELSO: Oh... I said, “you smell like booze from a mile away.”   RED: That’s worse, dumbass.   Fez tugs on Kelso’s sleeve, and they vanish into the kitchen.   Kitty and Red return to the bar, where Pam and Bob are waiting.   PAM: Oh, what a lovely evening. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear I was with rich people.   RED: (to Pam) Want another drink?   He takes out two glasses. Kitty puts one of them away.   KITTY: Honey, you shouldn’t be drinking. You have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow. (to Pam) He has a heart condition. He’s very old.   RED: (to Kitty) You mean I have to stand here making drinks for these freeloaders when I can’t touch the stuff myself? That’s it – I’m calling the cops. Everyone’s getting towed.   He steps out from behind the bar and moves for the phone.   BUMPER   EXT. FORMAN DRIVEWAY – DAY   The next morning. The Toyota rests in the drive. Red and Kitty step out. Red has a large HEART MONITOR strapped to his right arm.   RED: I don’t care what that doctor says. I’m not wearing this stupid heart monitor. It makes me look like a damn robot.   KITTY: Red, I'm sure you won't even know it's there. It'll only beep if your heart rate goes above normal, like when you get agitated or excited or extra angry or extra happy.   She gives him a playful poke in the arm.   KITTY (cont’d): Putting my money on extra angry.   Red grunts, opens up the trunk.   RED: I bet the damn thing doesn't even work.   He and Kitty gather up grocery bags as they continue talking.   KITTY: You know what, Red? Your attitude stinks. You wouldn't be in this mess if you'd just listened to me in the first place.   RED: Kitty...   KITTY: I told you to eat more fiber in the mornings. I told you to exercise. I even told you to wear more comfortable shoes for circulation. Did you listen? No. So I guess I'm just gonna keep telling you and telling you and telling you –   The heart monitor lets out a quick series of loud beats.   RED: What do you know? It does work.   He slams the lid down on the trunk and heads inside.   BUMPER   EXT. PINCIOTTI BACKYARD – DAY   A freshly acquired item takes up most of the backyard space: A HOT TUB, up and running even in winter. Kelso enjoys a good soak in the dub, while Eric, Hyde, and Jackie sit on the lawn bench.   KELSO: Hey, I can't believe you guys aren't in Bob's hot tub. You know, I feel like Warren Beatty in a movie about a hot tub. He's, like, hot tubbin', then, like... other stuff happens.   ERIC: Kelso, just so you know, Bob was in there an hour ago, so you are, like, covered in hot, bubbly Bob.   Kelso considers for a moment, then shrugs, “I’m good with that.”   Donna comes out from the kitchen, freezes mid-step when she sees Jackie.   DONNA:  Well, well. If it isn’t little miss junior prospector. Apparently my dad’s not good enough for your mom to dig her claws into, but it’s fine for her to leave her little cuckoo bird here to steal room and food.   JACKIE: Look, Donna –   DONNA: No, okay? You’re the one who’s been saying ever since your mom got back that she’s just here to find another free ride, and I’m not gonna let her do that to my dad. I just need to show him what a big mistake this is.   KELSO: “Big mistake?” Bob is Bob, and he’s getting me-quality girls. He’s living life, Kelso style. How can you wanna take that away from your dad, Donna?   ERIC: I’m with Kelso on this one. Bob needs to love that woman for all she’s worth.   DONNA: Eric!   ERIC: What, what are you gonna do, cut me off from sex again?   DONNA: (to Jackie) She’s making my dad take her out on all these expensive dates, they’re buying stupid crap like this hot tub -   KELSO: “Stupid?” There’s snow on the grown, and I’m, like, a million degrees in this thing. And with this euphoria jet, all of Fez’s “needs” problems are ancient history.   Everyone but Kelso shivers a little at the thought.   DONNA: (to Jackie) Your mom’s doing everything you said she’d do, and she’s doing it to my dad, who’s never been anything but nice to you, and who took you in when your mom ran off and you had no place to go.   JACKIE: (stands) God, Donna, I am so sick of hearing about this! You know, I’m not any happier than you are that they’re together.   DONNA: Then why are you sticking up for your mom all of a sudden?   JACKIE:  I’m not sticking up for her, okay? It’s just... it’s just...   She shifts on her feet, looks around; if she even knows or understands the real answer, she doesn’t want to say it.   JACKIE (cont’d): How can a beautiful woman like my mom be going out with a great, big mayonnaise lover like your dad? This morning, at breakfast, your dad burped right in front of my mom, and she laughed, Donna. Laughed! Okay, we’re Burkharts. We don’t burp, and we don’t tolerate people who do.   DONNA: God, Jackie, you can be such an ungrateful little bitch.   Jackie recoils at the words. Her eyes turn wet and glassy. She runs around the house and out of the yard.   HYDE: Well, there goes the rest of my day. Way to go, Donna.   He stands, starts to follow Jackie.   KELSO: (to Hyde) Hey, before you go, can you hand me my clothes? I’m all done peeing.   He points to the shirt and pants folded by the base of the hot tub.   HYDE: Kelso, are you naked?   KELSO: (beat) No. Eric, could you hand me my clothes, please?   ERIC: (stands) I'm sorry, buddy. I can't hear you over the hot tub. Did you hear him, Hyde?   HYDE: I think so. I think he said to take his clothes and run away.   ERIC: Oh!   Hyde nabs Kelso’s clothes, and he and Eric take off around the house.   KELSO: Guys - guys, come back!   No good; he’s trapped in the tub.   KELSO (cont’d): (to Donna) Well, looks like I'm gonna have to be nude in front of you, and that's kind of awkward. So, I think you should nude up.   Donna heads back inside.   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN KITCHEN – DAY   Lunchtime. Red reads the newspaper at the kitchen table as Kitty prepares a plate for him and brings it over.   KITTY: Okay, good news, Red. I made your favorite lunch - lasagna!   She hands him the plate, he takes it.   RED: Thanks.   KITTY: “Thanks?” Aren't you excited? Let's hear that monitor!   RED: So every time you do something nice for me, I'm supposed to have a heart attack?   KITTY: Well, no, not an attack. Just a little episode. (laughs) I mean, what does it take to get that beeper going?   Bob and Pam enter through the patio door.   PAM: Hi, Red.   Red’s heart monitor sounds off.   RED: (to Kitty) Wow, that must be the lasagna kicking in.   He makes a show of taking a hearty bite.   FADE TO BLACK   COMMERCIAL   BUMPER   INT. FORMAN LIVING ROOM – DAY   A short time later. Kitty sits in the middle of the couch, arms tightly crossed, while Red sits uncomfortably in his chair.   RED: Hey, what do you say we have some more of that lasagna? Boy, was that delicious.   Out of the corner of his mouth, he makes a beeping noise. He points to his heart monitor and pulls a “look at that!” face.   KITTY: Oh, can it, Red. When Pam showed up, your heart monitor went off like a freaking slot machine.   RED: Pam had nothing to do with that thing going off, dammit!   KITTY: Oh, and look at us now. We're arguing. Can't even get a beep out of you.   The kitchen door swings open. Kelso marches in, naked except for a garden hose wrapped around his naughty place.   KELSO: Your son is a jerk.   He heads up the stairs. Red and Kitty share a look; Red shrugs.   CUT TO:   EXT. PINCIOTTI BACKYARD – DAY   Immediately following. Bob and Pam enjoy a nice soak. Red and Kitty come around the house, mid-argument.   RED: Okay, come on. I am gonna prove to you that I am not attracted to Pam.   They step up to the tub.   PAM: Hey, guys.   Red’s heart monitor goes off. Kitty looks up and glowers at Red.   RED: (to Kitty) I think I'm having a war flashback. I'm messed up, Kitty. I'm real messed up.   He turns around and hurries out of the yard.   CUT TO:   INT. HYDE’S BEDROOM – DAY   Hyde, sans shades, and Jackie lie in bed, the goose down duvet pulled around them. Jackie’s head rests against Hyde’s shoulders as he holds her and she holds SCHATZI.   JACKIE: How could Donna say that I’m ungrateful? When I threw out all her old lumberjack shirts and replaced them with blouses and peplum tops last Christmas, I made sure all of them were in her giant size. And who keeps leaving business cards for real hair stylists on Bob’s car? That’s all me. Not Donna – me!   HYDE: You did kind of go off on Bob and do a 180 about your mom once you found out they were dating.   JACKIE: Steven, when a girlfriend is upset, it’s your job as the boyfriend to nod along and agree, not tell her the truth! Look, Donna doesn’t know my mom. It’s not her place to say those things. Of course, everyone can see how unnatural it is for someone like my mom to be with Bob. She’s rich and classy, and he’s all corny and cheesy. He’s like nachos.   HYDE: Well, that explains how he scored your mom. She’ll touch anything from Mexico.   Jackie gives him a halfhearted swat to the chest.   HYDE (cont’d): Come on, Jackie. Donna’s just worried about her dad.   JACKIE: Look, I know, okay? And she’s right. Well, probably right. It’s just... I don’t know. When I heard the things she was saying about my mom, I just... I felt like...   HYDE: Like you had to stick up for her ‘cause she’s family, even if you should be helping out the other guy?   He gives Jackie a knowing look. She reaches up, cups his cheek with her hand.   JACKIE: Oh, Steven. You know, our moms are like miniskirts that look great on the mannequin, but as soon as you try them on, they’re totally trashy and ruin your whole image. But you can’t take a mom back to the store to trade in for something better in a designer brand.   She turns her head into his shoulder, and Hyde pulls her in closer. He does his best to not pull away when Schatzi starts sniffing in his ear.   CUT TO:   INT. HUB - DAY   A typical afternoon. Eric, Donna, and Fez have claimed the wall table, Eric and Donna in the booth seat and Fez across from them. Food baskets and soda bottles adorn the table.   DONNA: (to Eric) I cannot believe you think my dad should stay with Pam. She doesn't even like you. She told my dad you groped her at the party. ERIC: Okay, look, Donna, you and Pam obviously have some serious issues. I think you two should work them out with a good old-fashioned pillow fight.   Donna swats his chest and rolls her eyes. FEZ: What's the big deal? Bob and Pam are adults who want to do what comes naturally to everybody except me. So I say, why can't I get any?   DONNA: (to Eric) You know, Pam wants to be with my dad now, but what happens when someone else comes along? I wouldn't care so much if I could just, you know, test her with a hotter guy and see if she falls for him.   ERIC: Because I love you, I'll do it.   He starts to stand, but Donna pulls him back down.   DONNA: No, it has to be someone her type. And, going off all her stories about her time in Mexico, she has a weakness for young, dark-skinned guys.   She and Eric both look at Fez, who’s slow to realize he’s pulled attention.   FEZ: (shrugs) I guess I can ask around.   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN KITCHEN – DAY   Kitty is at the stove. She pulls out an angel cake and sets it on the stovetop as Red walks in from the living room.   RED: Mmm, that smells delicious. What is it?   Kitty refuses to look at them as she sprinkles sugar over the cake.   KITTY: It's not for you. You can go look for scraps around the neighborhood like the rest of the dogs.   RED: Kitty, for the last time, I am not attracted to Pam. In all the years we’ve been together, you know my heart has never raced at the sight of any woman but you.   KITTY: Well, your cardiac jukebox there says otherwise!   RED: (points at monitor) I knew this damn thing wouldn’t work. I’m telling you, that floozy lush had nothing to do with it going off!   The patio door opens, and Pam enters.   PAM: Hi, Kitty. Hi, Red. I thought we'd come over and see if you two wanted to catch a movie.   Red and Kitty look from Pam to the monitor and back to Pam. Red holds the monitor up to his ear to check the sound; nothing happens.   PAM (cont’d): Why are you staring? Too pretty for Wisconsin? I get that a lot.   KITTY: (to Red) You shut it off, didn't you?   RED: No, I did not shut it off!   Bob enters.   BOB: Let's hustle it up. I don't want to sit behind people with hats.   The heart monitor goes off. Red shuts it off.   RED: (to Kitty) Ha! Look at that, nosey! It's not Pam. It's Bob, because he annoys me.   BOB: That's true. I do.   PAM: What are you guys talking about?   KITTY: Um... (laughs) (to Pam) I, um... I-I-I sort of thought that Red had a crush on you.   PAM: Oh, Kitty, I'm sorry. This face can bring as much trouble as it does joy.   RED: Well, Kitty, what do you have to say for yourself?   KITTY: It's the menopause. I'm messed up, Red. I'm real messed up.   She hurries into the living room.   BUMPER   EXT. PINCIOTTI BACKYARD – DAY   Some time later, post-movie. Fez, in an outfit straight from the tackiest of ‘70s pool boy pornos, sweeps the hot tub with a net. His ass is stuck out to pull focus, which it does when Pam steps out from the kitchen.   PAM: Um, hello?   Fez makes a dramatic turn to look at her.   PAM (cont’d): What are you doing?   FEZ: I was hired to clean the hot tub. But you should know that I perform... other services, too.   He lowers one strap of his tank top. Ignoring that, Pam crosses to inspect the hot tub.   PAM: Well, you could start by doing a better job. It's still dirty.   FEZ: So, you like it dirty?   PAM: No, I want it clean.   FEZ: So, you like it filthy?   PAM: Bob!   FEZ: Whoa, I'm not into that!   He throws up his hands as Pam shakes her head.   CUT TO:   INT. FORMAN BASEMENT – DAY   Eric and Donna are relaxing on the couch. Donna has a diving mask and snorkel in her hands that she fiddles with.   Kelso comes running down the stairs wearing Eric’s clothes.   KELSO: Hey, Eric, that was a good burn, stealing my clothes. But the laugh's on you, 'cause I borrowed your pants, and I'm not wearing any underwear.   He makes a show of wiggling his butt around in Eric’s pants.   ERIC: Kelso, just so you know, the last time I wore those pants, I wasn't wearing any underwear.   KELSO: Ouch. Well played.   He gives Eric a nod, then crosses to sit on the dryer.   The basement door opens. A frowning Bob enters, holding Fez by the back of the neck.   BOB: (to Donna) Did you tell Fez to make a move on Pam? 'Cause if you didn't, I'm gonna box him up and send him back to banana town.   FEZ: (to Bob) Okay, I'm sick of those comments. I don't say I'm gonna send you back to polyester town.   Donna stands, crosses to Bob. At the same time, Jackie and Hyde enter from Hyde’s room. Jackie beats Donna over to Bob.   JACKIE: Mr. Pinciotti, good, I thought that was you. Look, you need to break up with my mom. You’re too good for her.   DONNA: Oh, here we go. You know, you’ve got some nerve, Burkhart – wait, what?   BOB: What?   ERIC/KELSO/FEZ: What?   JACKIE: Mr. Pinciotti, you’re a wonderful guy with a huge heart. You’re like a cute, fuzzy, slightly gassy panda bear. And my mom is a beautiful blonde tiger who goes around looking for panda bears to rip open to get at the money inside.   FEZ: Wait, I’m confused. Is Bob a panda bear or a pinata? (Gasps) Or a panda pinata! (to the guys) If you bastards don’t have a panda pinata for my birthday, there will be no cake for any of you!   JACKIE: (to Bob) I’ve said some awful things about you over the last few days, and I know I haven’t always been as grateful as I should be, but I really appreciate all you’ve done since my mom left me. And I know my mom, and I don’t want to see her hurt you like she hurt me. And I know Donna feels the same way.   DONNA: Thank you, Jackie. And I’m sorry.   She puts an arm around Jackie’s shoulders.   DONNA (cont’d): And Dad, I’m sorry about Fez, but it was the only thing I could think of to prove that Pam doesn’t... you know, really care about you.   BOB: Well, guess what? She does really care about me, so I don’t want any more of these little games. (to Jackie) Now, Jackie, I appreciate your concern, and I’m sorry you feel that way about your mom, but she and I make each other happy. You and Donna better accept it soon, 'cause she's here to stay.   JACKIE: But Mr. Pinciotti –   BOB: I’m sorry, but I don’t wanna talk about it anymore. This is the way it’s gonna be. In fact – Pam and me talked after the movies, and she’s moving in.   JACKIE: Wait, what?   DONNA: What?   ERIC/HYDE/KELSO/FEZ: What?   JACKIE: No, no, no. Mr. Pinciotti, my mom can’t move in with us.   BOB: She can and she is. End of discussion.   JACKIE: No, because... because if my mom’s moving in, then I’m moving out.   She gets out from under Donna’s arm and runs back into Hyde’s room.   Hyde takes the snorkel mask from Donna.   HYDE: I’m gonna need this. (to Bob, doing Bob) “Way to go there, Bob.”   Shaking his head, he goes back to his room.   FADE TO BLACK   CREDITS   INT. FORMAN LIVING ROOM – NIGHT   Much later, well into night. Hyde and Jackie sit together on the couch, Jackie holding Schatzi.   HYDE: (to Jackie) Roy said you can get a room at the hotel where we work, but it’ll be a few days before you can move in. You sure you wanna do this?   JACKIE: I’m sure, Steven. I can’t be under the same roof as my mom right now.   She leans into Hyde, who puts an arm around her shoulders.   They both look up to the ceiling as a faint beeping sound echoes down from upstairs.   JACKIE: What’s that noise?   HYDE: It’s Red’s heart monitor.   JACKIE: Where’s Mrs. Forman?   HYDE: She’s with him.   The thought hits them both at the same time. Jackie screams, drops Schatzi onto the seat next to her, and clings to Hyde. He pats her arm even as he looks up again and snickers.   END.

[thatonecurlygirl]

hello sweet! can i ask for a peter x reader with the prompts 40# "Did you think of me at all when you were having sex with her?" 71# "I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretend they are you" And a bomb ass smut with all of this please?

Pairing: Peter x Reader

Word Count: ~3k

Warning: ANGST & SMUT

A/N: Woo, sorry I took so long to get this out, but I really hope you enjoy it. 

Long, long legs. That’s the first thing you noticed about her. Her tanned skin going well with the velvety-red, thigh length dress she was sporting. Her shorter, blond hair frames her face perfectly and her green eyes, striking. You can’t keep your eyes off of her, watching her every move — maybe it’s jealousy. Okay, it sure as hell is jealousy. You watch as she dances, hips sway sensually, body pressed tight against the man she is with, the man you are very familiar with.

“Look, we can go back to my place and get wine drunk if you want.” Amelia, your best friend says from beside you.

“No, I’m not going to let… that… ruin our nice night out. So let’s just get drunk here and do what we came here to do — have fun.” You turn around on the stool so you no longer have to see.

“That’s my girl.” Amelia smiles wide and holds two fingers up to the bartender, pointing down at your two empty shot glasses. “Next round is on me.”

Amelia smiles wide calling for two more shots to be sent your way. As you wait, you casually glance back out to the dance floor. Now they stand facing each other, his hands on her hips as they continue to dip and sway. Her hands are gripping the collar of his shirt, pulling him down to her lips. His hands gently squeeze her ass before they pull away. Once she nods toward the bar where you are, you quickly turn around.

“He’s fucking her.” You sigh.

“What? You don’t know that.” Amelia scoots the new shot to young holds up two fingers, knowing you both will need more.

“Yeah, I do.” You take the shot and wince as it does down. “He wouldn’t dare touch her like that if they weren’t. We slept together a handful of times before he was comfortable enough for any PDA besides quick kisses.”

“Here you ladies go.” The bartender says with your shots before going to the next person.

“Shit,” Amelia says quietly beside you.

Looking over, you see Peter and the girl take the empty spot next to you at the bar. The blonde separating you and him. You watch Peter look over, eyes going wide as he realizes you are right there.

“Y/n?” He asks, seemingly confused or surprised, maybe both.

“Oh, you know her?” The girl asks looking at you, brows raised and smile wide.

You hate her already. Well, you hated her the moment you saw them together. That smile made you hate her more.

“Uh, yeah I-” Peter swallows hard before being out off.

“Oh, hi. I’m Alexus!” She extends her hand to shake yours.

You look down at her hand and slowly back up to her face before mumbling your introduction that makes her pale.

“Y/n, the ex-fiancé.” You throw back your shot before looking back to her. “Nice to meet you, or whatever.” You look at her and then up at Peter before turning and walking toward the door, Amelia close behind.

“Hey babe, you wanna talk about it?” She asks as you make it outside of the club, walking down the dark street and taking in the fresh air.

“It was just getting a little stuffy in there, but I’m fine.”  You nod your head, fanning yourself with your hand.

“You know you can’t bull shit me, Y/n, so don’t even try.” She scoffs, resting her hands on her hips, watching you stop to lean against a building.

“I’m just going to go home. I’m not feeling this tonight.” You motion back to the club while shaking your head. “I truly am fine, I just — I want to go to sleep and not think about that.”

“Okay,” She nods. “I think that’s a good idea. Do you want me to ride home with you?”

“No, I don’t want you going out of your way. I’ll be fine to take my own Uber, thanks though.”

Amelia nods and pulls her phone from her small purse, requesting an Uber. The two of you sit against the wall and wait until your individual rides come to get you. The ride to your house is a relatively short one, but the opposite direction from the way Amelia is going.

Once you arrive home to your apartment, you trudge up the stairs and as you go to unlock the door to get in, you hear someone clear their throat behind you. Startled, you stand there, frozen in place with your heart beating rapidly. Your keys barely in the door and the hair on the back of your neck stand.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He says… He, as in Peter.

Hearing his voice, you somewhat relax, knowing he’s not here to murder you, but the tension is still pretty thick and uncomfortable. Pushing your key the rest of the way into the lock, you refuse to look back at him.

“What do you want?” Your voice coming off annoyed.

“To talk… Please.” He begs.

“What is there to talk about, Peter?” You throw your arms in the air, turning to face him. “Huh? What is there to say that hasn’t already been said?”

“That I’m sorry.” He takes a step closer to you and you scoff in disbelief.

“Oh, right.”

Turning around you turn the key and push open the door. For a moment you just stand in the doorway, not saying anything and not moving, contemplating whether or not you should go inside and invite him in too.

“Who’s the blonde?” You ask, back still turned toward him. “You’re new girlfriend?”

“No, just a friend I’ve gone on a couple dates with.” You can practically hear him shaking his head and see those puppy dog eyes you fell in love with.

“You’ve gone on a couple dates, you’ve fucked her… If I’m not mistaken, that sounds a lot like a girlfriend.” You step inside your apartment, motioning him in with a loud sigh.

“I never said anything about sleeping with, Alexus.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Peter. I know you better than that.” You make your way to the kitchen, pouring yourself a gland of wine. “I just don’t get it. How can you break off a three-year relationship including the five months we were engaged and wind up balls deep in some other bitch.” Your voice very blasé as you take a drink of the wine.

“Y/n, I was going through a lot and-”

“Oh, I fucking know you were going through a lot Peter! I picked up my damn life and moved out here after your father died. I was right beside you the day Pam recognized you and I sat up with you all night when she died! I was right there, Peter, right fucking there!” Tears well up in your eyes and begin to fall. “And what did you do? You broke it off, you dropped me. I get that you were hurting, but I expected you to realize what you did. I waited by the phone and was ready and willing to mourn with you. I waited for five months and when I finally decide that it is time for me to get out of the house and do something for myself, I find you have already been sleeping with someone else. How long have you been with her?” Your last sentence coming out soft yet still full of emotion.

“Three months.” He says quietly, looking down at the floor.

“Damnit, Peter.” You cry, leaning against the counter and resting your head in your hands. “Did you even fucking think of me?”

“What?” His head snaps up as he looks at you.

“It’s only been five months and you’re already in a three-month relationship with someone else! I can’t believe you. I- I thought you loved me!”

“Y/n, I do. I do love you. I love you so much.” He takes a few steps closer to you, now stepping into the kitchen with you, but you step back to put distance between you too.

“Did you think of me at all when you were having sex with her?” Your voice only growing louder, face growing red, and hands shaking.

‘Y/n, please let-”

“Answer my question, Peter!” You cut him off.

“Yes, yes I did! I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretend they are you! I can’t fuck them without wishing, imagining they were you!” He yells in frustration. Anger at himself boiling up to the surface. “I got lonely and I missed you and I scared that if I asked for you to come back you’d say ‘no’. Alexus was just there.”

“I would have waited the rest of my damn life for you.” Your voice hushed, small and hurt.

“And now?” His voice pained as he looks down at you, taking a few more steps toward you until he is close enough to gently take your chin and tilt it up to look at him.

“I’m… I’m…” you squeeze your eyes closed for a few seconds before opening them and pushing past Peter.

You make it into the living room before he catches up to you, gently grabbing your wrist and turning your back toward him.

“Y/n, please.” He begs quietly.

“I love you, but I feel so…worthless.”

“Baby, please don’t say that.” He pulls you into his strong arms, hugging you. “You are by no means worthless. You are everything.”

“I don’t feel like ‘everything’.” You cry into his chest.

“I know and I am so sorry. I promise if you let me, I will make it up to you ten times over.” He assures you.

“Can you just… Can you hold me for a minute?” You mumble into his chest.

“Absolutely.” He scoops you up and sits on the couch, holding you in his lap as he runs his hand up and down your arm.

The two of you sit there in silence for what seems like forever. He holds you tight to him as if he is afraid to let go. You can feel his heart beating against his chest and you snuggle in, taking in that feeling that you’ve missed. Once you’ve had time to calm down and gather yourself, you look up at Peter. You can see the sadness in his eyes, but you can also see the longing. He smiles back at you with a small, sad smile. Before you realize what you are doing, you’ve shifted in his lap so that you’d have easier access to his lips.

You can feel him tense with shock and confusion when your lips first touch his, but you also feel the moment that it melts away, replaced instead with need. Not completely primal, mostly the need to be connected… and a little bit of lust.

“Does this mean you want me?” You ask, pulling away from his lips slightly.

“I don’t want anything or anyone else but you.” He rests his forehead against yours, slowly and softly running his hands up and down your back.

You press your lips back against his in a bruising kiss that quickly gets heated, desire making it’s way to the forefront. Peter finds the zipper on your dress, once he has unzipped it as far as he can, he trails kisses from your neck to your chest as he slowly pushes it off your shoulders to bunch around your waist.

Peter stands up, holding you to him, legs wrapped around his waist as he makes for your bedroom just down the hall. He bites the skin between your neck and shoulder, sucking on the same spot when he hears you moan. Gently laying you across the bed, he finishes pulling your dress of you. He smirks down at your bare chest, leaning a trail of kisses from your belly button, through the valley between your breasts and up to your mouth, hungrily nipping at your lips.

“I’ve missed you.” He whispers, the words tickling your lips as they come out. “I missed touching you,” His voice gravely.

His large hand ventures down to the apex of your thighs, rubbing you through your panties as he stares down at you. His eyes stare deeply into yours as he slowly leans down kissing you slowly and sweetly. You’ve missed those lips, those hands, this man; you’ve missed him more than you’ve missed anything in your life and now he is right here.

Smirking you push Peter off you and you roll on top of him. Helping him pull his shirt over his head as he sits up, moaning as you grind yourself against his hard erection, layers of clothing separating the two of you. You trail soft bites and kisses down his chest and stomach. He lifts his hips as you pull off both his pants and underwear. Flattening your tongue and staring into his eyes, you lean down and lick the tip of his hard cock, the deep moan that falls from his lips stirs up your own desire.

“No,” He shakes his head, gently pulling you up toward his lips. “Tonight, I want to take care of you.” He easily pulls you into the spot on the bed beside him before sliding down the bed and positing himself between your legs. He gently kisses the inside of your thighs as he slowly pulls your lace underwear down your legs, throwing them across the room.

“Damn,” He growls before settling there, licking a broad stroke between your folds and pulling you closer to him.

“Oh,” You moan smiling down at him, his eyes full of lust and locked on yours.

You can feel him smile back before his fingers run through the wetness, kissing a trail back to the inside of your thighs. He nips the soft skin there and watches as he slowly slips a finger inside of you, pumping it a few times before he adds another finger. He pushes and pulls his fingers inside of you so agonizingly slow, the act further fueling your need.

“Peter, can you-” Your words broken off a moan when his lips once again find the soft slick flesh between your legs.

“Can I what, baby? What do you want?” He asks, voice deep and husky.

“Fuck me already?” You whimper. “Please god, just fuck me, Peter.” You beg, watching him smirk and crawl over your body.

“Whatever you want, y/n.” He gently caresses your face as he leans in to kiss you.

His phone begins ringing on the floor beside the bed, where is fell from his pant pocket. You ignore it, but you can feel the hesitation on Peter’s lips. The hesitation doesn’t last long as he too ignores it, lining himself up with your entrance. He pulls away from your lips, watching your face as he slowly pushes himself all the way inside you. He watches your mouth fall open and eyes flutter closed as a sweet moan break past your pink, swollen lips.

“Ohh yes, Peter.” You grip his biceps as he slowly thrusts inside of you. “Fuck me harder.”

Peter does just that, hips snapping hard and fast, pushing you further up the bed until you are holding onto the cool metal of the headboard to prevent the knocks your head would otherwise take against it.

It’s not long before Peter’s phone starts ringing again. Unlike last time he doesn’t falter, instead, he snakes a hand down between your bodies, rubbing his fingers again the tight aching bundle of nerves right there. A jolt goes through your body heat flushing your skin quickly follows, adding to the sweat both you and Peter have already been mixing together.

“Damn y/n, I’ve missed this so much.” He moans, fingers moving quickly against you. “Holding you, fucking you, the face you make when you come.”

“So close.” You moan quiet and whisper-like as your legs shake and your body vibrates as you near ecstasy.

“I know baby, I can feel you.” He leans down, teeth grazing your ear. “It’s okay, just let go. I’ve got you.”

His next hard, deep thrust paired with the words whispered in your ear sets you off. Back arching and body shaking another wave of heat washes over your body. Peter gives only a few more thrusts before he comes, hips slowing to a stop before he pulls out and collapses on the bed beside you.

“Damn.” You breathe out, cuddling into Peter’s chest as he pulls you in close to him.

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, taking in what just happened. Both you and Peter lie there, legs tangled and catching your breath. His fingers trail up and down your side in soft, tickling motions. He kisses your temple and his fingers abruptly stop, no longer caressing your skin.

“Will you take me back?” He says quietly, sorrow and fear filling every syllable of each word spoken.

“Peter,” You turn to face him. “That was her calling wasn’t it?” You ask, referring to the phone on the floor.

“Yeah,” Peter says simply, looking away from your face and to the small freckle on the left side of your chest, right above your breast.

“You should call her.” You smile small, tears brimming your eyes. “Get that taken care of before we go any further with this.”

Peter’s eyes widen as he looks at you, “Of course.” He nods.

“I think there’s something we need to work on and talk about. We aren’t going to be able to pick up where we left off. If you’re willing to put in some work, I’m more than happy to give it another shot.”

“Anything we need to do, just as long as I have you back.” He says against your skin as he softly presses a kiss to your forehead.

[gucciwins]

H, I love you

A/N: my professor talked to us about being prepared for the worst and this blossomed.

It was suppose to be a normal Tuesday, you would leave work at five and begin dinner. A lasagna because Harry had begged all weekend for it and you did not give in and felt bad. Harry would arrive home with a new dessert to try because recently your sweet tooth had awoken. Harry started calling you ‘sweets’ it was cute. He loved it too much plus it was growing on you so you let him keep it.

However, it’s three o’clock and Pam, Steve and you are stuck on the second floor due to a fire and no one pulling the alarm. The idiots on the third floor ran without alerting anyone till they made it outside. By the time you noticed the smoke it was too late to get out.

Steve had tried to open the door but it had become too hot to touch. The only good thing was knowing help was here. Who knows how long it would take them to get to you, but you hoped it wasn’t long. 

Pam pulled her phone out and brought it to her ear. “I’m calling my wife, you never know what can go wrong. In matter of seconds or minutes or life can change.”

As Pam was talking on the phone you began to panic. A possibility of never hearing your fiance's voice is not something you are going to risk.

You got your phone from you back pocket and dialed Harry. It rang three times before going to voice mail.

Four calls later and there was still no answer. Sitting there about to send a text you remember why he hasn’t answered. You let out a sigh because he’s recording a few tracks for the new album.

You rang one last time and like the previous times he didn’t answer but this time you left a voicemail.

“H, there was a fire in the office. The firefighters are working hard but i don’t know if they’ll make it in time. I’m praying for the best but always remember I love you. You’re my everything. Forever and always.” You begin sobbing as you hang up.

The air is thicker and you’re getting dizzy. Pam throws you a scarf to try to breathe through but it’s no use.

Steve is getting desperate as he looks over at us. He begins to yell but you can’t register what he’s says.

You fill your lungs start to give out slowly making you lose conscious just as the door is bust open.

**

Harry can’t believe how good that take went. Jeff told him to take a breather and then they’ll keep going. That a few more hours and they are done for the day.

He’s happy because that means he can spend more time with his fiance.

Harry grabs his phone and see’s he has a few misses calls from “sweets”. He smiles at the name but can’t help but get a little nervous at her calls.

He decides to listen to the voicemail thinking she probably left her message there since there wasn’t a text.

Harry hears her voice and knows somethings wrong with her first word. He doesn’t know what to do except let the message play.

As soon as the message ends Harry is crying. He’s crying so hard he shocks everyone around him.

“Harry, are you okay?” Jeff asks concerned.

Harry shakes his head and terror slowly overtook his face because he doesn’t know if she made it out.

“Let’s go, Jeff” Harry says after trying to stop his tears. Jeff is confused but is scared to ask more.

“Go where?”

“My sweets needs me, you have to get me to her.” Harry pleads. “There was a fire.” Jeff stares at him in shock. 

“Don’t make me drive myself.” Harry begs not wanting to be alone, also not wanting to get behind the wheel. 

Jeff nods quickly. No one says anything as Harry rushes outside with Jeff hot on his tail. Harry leaves behind his friends who are just at heartbroken for Harry.

Jeff reaches the office as fast as he could and it looks like the fire is almost completely out. Harry jumps out of the car not waiting for the car to make a complete stop.

Harry spots a paramedic immediately is gives them your name. He isn’t sure but goes to check for him. This only causes Harry to panic more. He shut his eyes and said a prayer not knowing what else to do.

“Harry!” He turned quickly hearing a shout of his name. He saw Sandy the receptionist wrapped up in a blanket. “She got taken to the hospital. She inhaled too much smoke.”

Harry doesn’t know if he should be relieved or more scared because she made it out alive but what if the smoke was too much for her lungs. He runs a hand through his hair. Jeff approaches Sandy and they speak momentarily before Jeff guides him back to car.

“She’s at Mercy’s. We are ten minutes away.” Jeff tells him calmly, not wanting to upset him.

**

Harry runs to the front desk. “My fiance Y/N Y/LN was brought in from a work fire.”

“Yes, she’s in room 205. The doctor will be in shortly but she is currently stable.”  She said with a sincere smile. Harry gives her a small smile in return.

Harry stands outside her door. Room number 205 staring back at him. He’s a bit nervous to head inside but he throws that away because he can’t stand being another minute away from his sweets. 

His lower lip quivered because he never wants to see his girl in pain. Harry takes slow steps to her side and can’t but think that even with all the smoke on her face and arms she is still the most beautiful person he has ever seen. 

He sits in the worn out chair and pulls it closer to her bed. He grabs her hand and sighs in relief because they have not lost their warmth. He brings it up to his lips for a kiss. 

“I love you. You’re my world, sweets.” He whispers, his words filled with nothing but love.

“We’re going to get married. Have the small wedding in my hometown you that you want with only the most important people in our life. The long honeymoon I keep begging so I can be selfish and have you to myself.” His tears are falling onto her hand but he doesn’t seem to care. 

“You and me against the world.” Harry was going to continue talking when there was a knock on the door. 

In walked in a man and Harry assumed it was her doctor.

“Mr. Styles, I’m Dr. Reynolds, your wife’s-” Harry interrupts him.

“My fiance.” He looked back to you on the bed and gave your hand a squeeze. “We get married in three months but wife has a nice ring to it.” He gave the doctor a small smile.

Dr. Reynolds smiles, “ Your fiance is well. The oxygen mask is so she can get good air into her lungs. We gave her medicine allowing her to rest but nothing to harm her or the baby.

Harry’s eyes widen. “Baby” He whispers.

“I’m sorry, I take it you both didn’t know.” Harry shakes his head know and reaches his hand to rest on her stomach that is growing their child. 

“Well let me be the first to tell you congratulations. She is seven weeks pregnant.” Harry thanks the doctor. 

“Please make an appointment for an ultrasound before you leave. To make sure how the baby is developing.” 

Harry nods and stands up to shake his hand. He’s grateful for you being in good health and that your child is doing well. 

Harry just wants to wake you up to share the news with you. Instead he settles with leaving a sweet kiss on your forehead, very gently as to not move you.

“Guess that makes us three. Us three against the world.” He lays his head on you lap facing your tummy. 

“I’ll love you both forever.” He whispers. 

Harry closes his eyes to rest knowing his sweets and bub are safe.

In that hospital room, right before Harry begins to dream he vows to marry you sooner than three months.

Thank you for reading! Feed back is appreciated and welcomed, much love

[v1rg1nvodkasprite]

Greaser → Ben Hardy (Part IX)

Summary

Due to Shenanigans, you have been sent back in time to the 1960s. You find yourself in a high school. You also find someone very intriguing but he’s unrestrained.

Warnings: sickness, language, angst, hospitalization, fluff.

Notes: series is coming close to the end. i hope you like this and thank you for reading. x

I woke up to Ben moaning and groaning. He had turned onto his other side, facing away from. The bed shook as he shook violently.

"Ben?" I called out touching his shoulder. His body temperature had spiked and sweat covered his body. "You're burning up, are you okay?" I asked.

"I feel sick," he said hugging himself, shaking more. "Just stay here. I'll get you some water," I said, getting up and going to the kitchen. It seemed like he had the flu and it was probably just the affects of going 50 years into the future.

I came back with a glass of water but he was out of bed. His body was hunched over, throwing up into the small trash can by my desk. "Oh, babe. I'm so sorry," I said, setting the glass of water on the desk and sitting down next to him.

"I'm sorry," he said, as I rubbed his back. "Don't be sorry. It's okay, you're just a little sick," I said. He sniffed a little bit, "I think I'm just gonna take a shower, where's your bathroom?" he asked, getting up, supporting himself against the edge of the desk. "It's just right down at the end of the hall. I got you some water," I said, handing him the glass I got him earlier, "I'll help you turn on the water."

I led him to the bathroom, his clammy hand holding mine. I leaned turned on the faucet and let the water warm up, "Is the temperature okay?" I asked and he leaned down to feel the water. "That's good. Thank you, love," he said and smiled sickly. I nodded, turning on the shower.

"Just let me know if you need anything," I said. "You're not staying?" he asked, smirking a little bit. "Ben, you're sick. Just take the damn shower," I laughed and he playfully poured. I shook my head, smiling as I walked out, closing the door behind me.

It was about 15 minutes until he walked out, the towel hung low around his waist. Droplets of water running down his chest and torso. I might have stared a bit too long.

"Take a picture, baby. It'll last longer," he joked. I reached over to the record stand beside my bed, pulling out the white polaroid camera.

Carefully taking the camera out of the bag, I looked through the lens, preparing to snap the photo. "I didn't actually mean it," he shook his head. "Yeah but I might as well," I smiled. He looked down laughing, his hand reaching up to finger through his hair. I snapped the picture before pulling it out of the polaroid, shaking it a bit.

He sat down beside me, still in his towel. "How do you feel?" I asked. "Still like shit," he laughed. I grabbed an oversized sweatshirt, throwing it at him. "Wear that. I'll be right back. I've got to go shopping," I explained. "Babe, stay. You don't have to," he said.

"You can't just stay your old clothes for the rest of your life, especially while you're sick. You won't be comfortable. It'll only be an hour or so," I said, grabbing my wallet and keys, "I need to get you some medicine too anyways."

"Okay, hurry though," he said, pulling the sweatshirt over his head and getting under the covers. "I'll be back before you know it," I smiled, walking out of my small loft apartment.

Getting in my car, I drove to the mall. I ran to a few stores, picking out some clothes that Ben might like. I made sure, it was a bit on-trend. The whole thing was expensive but I decided that I'd just work my ass off next week to make up the difference.

I drove back to my apartment, unlocking the door and walking in. "Ben," I called out but there was no response. I set down the bags of clothes on the couch. "I got you some clothes. How are you feeling?" I called out again. There wasn't any response.

"You okay?" I asked. I opened the door to my bedroom. Ben wasn't laying on the bed like I had left him but most of the covers were off the bed. I walked around the bed and there he was. His skin was pasty and had turned pale. His lips were purple. It looked as if he was dead.

"Shit!" I whispered, kneeling down to him shaking him. He had snot running down his face and his hair was sticking to his face from the sweat. "Hey, hey. Wake up. Come on," I shook him again.

I leaned down, placing my ear near his mouth. His breathing was slow, almost silent. I cradled his face, pulling him into my lap. He had gotten significantly hotter since I last checked him. "Get up, babe. Ben, please," I said, tears welling up. Fuck.

I wrapped my arm around his torso, under his arm. I tried putting his weight against me so I could get him to my car. As I tried to get up, I fell back down. I tried again but fell.

"Fuck," I exclaimed, reaching for my phone, dialing 911. The phone rang twice before someone picked up. "911, what's your emergency?" a man asked from the other side of the line. "Hi! My friend was sick with the flu I think and now he's passed out. His breathing is slowed and he's really pale. I can't carry him so could you please send an ambulance?" I asked, frantically. "Yes, what is your address?" he asked. "9175 Thrasher Ave," my voice shook as I spoke. "Thank you, ma'am. Paramedics will be there in about seven minutes."

I got up, running to the sink and pulled out a rag. I quickly wet it with warm water and went back to Ben. I pulled his head back onto my lap, dabbing the cloth against his forehead. "Please, be okay. Please, be okay," I whispered, moving a strand of hair out of his face. I wrapped a large, heavy blanket around him, trying to get him to break his fever.

A couple of minutes later, there was a knock at the door. I ran to it, opening the door. It was the paramedics. I led them to where Ben laid, unconscious. "His name?" one of them asked. "Ben Hardy. Is he going to be okay?" I asked. "We'll take good care of him. Are you riding in the ambulance or driving yourself?" they asked.

"I'll drive," I said. I probably needed a ride back to the apartment, depending on whether or not he could come home later tonight or not.

They put him on the gurney, caring him out to the ambulance. I watched them carefully rolling him into the back and shutting the door before a couple of them got in the back with him. I got in my car, just waiting and thinking everything over. None of this was going to plan.

It might have just been too much for his body. Maybe we should've prepped more. Surely, he'll be okay. I sighed, turning on the car and backing out, following the ambulance.

When we got to the hospital, I followed Ben to the room he was put in. "What's wrong with him?" I asked as they set him up in the bed. "He's got a fever of 103.4. The nurse will be in here a second to run some more tests. Do you mind if we ask a few questions?" a woman said as the other paramedics got him settled. I nodded.

"When did he start feeling sick?" she asked. "He had a headache last night and this morning it just blew up," I explained. After a few more questions and some paperwork, which I tried to fill out as much as possible, a nurse came in to run some test.

"Ma'am, are you family?" she asked, sanitizing her hands and putting on some gloves. "No, but-" I started to say but she cut me off. "I'm going to have to ask you to wait outside. I'll be done soon and then you'll be able to come back," she said, turning to Ben. "Okay," I said quietly, walking out.

The image of Ben on the ground, pale and unconscious stayed in my mind. What the fuck could possibly be wrong? Was this really just some flu-like thing? The thoughts raced through my mind as my leg bounced. To say I was anxious was an understatement.

"Ben Hardy?" a woman called out. I stood up, a worried look on my face. "Everything's done, if you'd like to see him."

I nodded, following her back to the room. I was met with Ben sleeping peacefully on the hospital bed. He looked less pale then before but dark circles had started to form and his face had thinned significantly since I last saw him. This was all going to fast.

"How is he?" I asked. The nurse turned to me, taking off the gloves and mask. "It's one of the weirdest cases, I've seen. We're going to have to monitor him throughout the night. It seems as if his body is fighting itself. It's not cancer but his cells are killing themselves and his immune system isn't doing anything at all," she explained. This wasn't the flu.

"Pam, we need you in Room 147. It's a 68 year old male. Fever of 103.4. It's urgent," she sighed, "I'll be back to answer any other questions you have."

I looked to Ben, sitting in the chair beside his bed. There was crying from outside the room. I stood up, looking behind the curtain. It was an elderly woman. "Please, all this just started last night. I thought it was just a headache and then he fell and wouldn't wake up," she cried. I was confused that was the same situation as Ben.

Maybe this was something more than what it seemed. "Name?" I heard from outside the room. "Benjamin Hardy," the woman from before said. What the fuck.

taglist

@rrrogah-tayluhh , @simplyvictoria-93 , @rencontre-moi-dans-le-couloir , @kirket03 , @plethora-of-things , @satanspaghetti , @rogersrager , @spreadymercury , @hi-i-dont-know , @kurt-nightcrawler

[cocomaxley]

What's Left of Us - Part 2

This is a part of a TRR A/U called Cordonians Gone Wild, a collaborative effort by @ao719 @speedyoperarascalparty @leelee10898 and yours truly. Catch up HERE.

Summary: Genevieve has to decide if Rashad deserves another chance.

Rating: Angst, I'm sad

Tag List: @fullbeaumonty @brightpinkpeppercorn @alj4890 @zaffrenotes @annekebbphotography @carabeth @moneyfordiamonds @give-me-ernest-sinclaire @3pawandme @indiacater @ooo-barff-ooo @ownworldresident @tornbetween2loves @perfectprofessorherokid @stopforamoment @editboutique @wannabemc2 @enmchoices @lauradowning29 @lodberg @smalltalk88 @gibbles82 @heatherfilliez @drakesensworld @nikkis1983 @sweetest-marbear @classylady1234 @daniv2278 @jlouise88 @jared2612 @liamxs-world @notoriouscs @blubutterflyy @captain-kingliamsqueen @lynne1993

Rashad left the office and joined Anitah, Pam, Liam and Drake in the living room. He spotted Genevieve across the room as guests offered their condolences. He noticed three men approach her that he recognized. He watched Thomas and Julian hug her and kiss her cheek before stepping aside. Rashad’s eyes narrowed when Christian stepped forward and hugged her longer than he liked. His hands clenched into fists when he saw Christian wipe a tear from her face.

Anitah noticed Rashad’s tense posture and looked to where he was staring. She smirked, “There’s someone who would treat her right if he had the opportunity...” Pam added, "Old habits die hard, eh Rashad?"

Liam frowned, “Anitah, Pam...please don't start. He already feels like shit.” Drake grumbled, “That’s his own damn fault, Liam.”

“Excuse me…” Rashad stood up and walked out the front door. He sat down on the porch swing, relieved to have a moment alone. He knew he needed to talk to her so he could beg her not to take the job and to come home instead.

The front door opened, and Thomas, Julian and Christian walked out of the house. Thomas and Julian shook his hand and headed to their car. Christian turned to him and said, “Take care of her...she's really hurting.” He extended his hand and Rashad shook it. Christian got in the car and the three men left.

The door opened again. Genevieve stepped out and stood in front of him. He got up and smiled weakly at her. She shook her head as tears streamed down her face. “You hurt me...a lot. But I think you know that, otherwise you wouldn't be here.”

He pleaded with her, “Gen, I’m so sorry. My job, my company, nothing will ever be more important than you. I was angry, and I took it out on the one person that didn't deserve it. I will never forgive myself for that. Please, don't take that job. Please come back with me. I will never hurt you again.”

She whispered through a sob, “I don't think I can give you another opportunity to hurt me again. Please go home, Rashad.” With that, she walked back inside the house leaving him alone on the porch. He slumped down on the porch swing feeling like he was just punched in the stomach. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he didn't even bother to wipe them when they finally fell down his face.

The two couples said goodbye to Genevieve and met Rashad on the porch. Anitah and Pam didn't even acknowledge him before getting into the waiting limo. Once the car was on the road, Rashad cleared his throat and looked at the two women, "Did she tell you she's not coming back to Cordonia, and that she accepted a job offer here?"

Drake and Liam shared a shocked look but didn't say a word. “Yes,” Anitah stated still staring out the window.

"I love her....and I want her to come home." He was trying to fight back the tears that were threatening to spill over.

“Rashad...do you really love her? Or did you just not want to be alone...or maybe she was good for your ego? Looked good having her on your arm at events?” Anitah sat forward looking at him. “Because I’m seriously questioning whether or not you ever loved her. You don’t destroy someone you love, Rashad. Breaking a woman’s heart goes way deeper than you guys may realize, and this goes for all of you,” she eyed each man in that limo. “We may be able to walk around with a smile, we may be able to act as though it doesn’t bother us, or in Gen’s case, we maybe able to act as though we can just up and move forward...but the truth is, you just destroyed her outlook on love. You ripped her self esteem to shreds, for you to make her think that she wasn’t enough for you, that she was a ‘mistake’ as you put it. And you very well may have just lost the best thing that ever happened to you, Rashad. And if that’s the case, I’m sorry, but you have no one to blame but yourself.” Anitah sat back and crossed her arms.

Rashad stared at her with his mouth open. “I do love her...with everything in me. I'm not going to act like I know how she's feeling. I'm sure it's far worse than what I'm feeling and I feel really fucking horrible. I just want the chance to fix it and make it right.” He choked up before continuing, “But she told me that she didn't want to give me that chance. And you're right, it's all my fault.” He could no longer hold back his tears. He pulled his gaze from Anitah and looked out the window.

Liam gave his friend a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, “Rashad...just give her some time...she has a lot going on right now with everything.”

Anitah gave Liam the side eye, glaring at him as she looked over to him. He silently motioned to a now crying Rashad giving his wife a look in return. She widened her eyes shaking her head as she shrugged her shoulders. Liam shook his head knowing he lost this silent argument.

Pam glared at Rashad and was about to say something when Drake put his hand on her knee, “Baby, I know you wanna yell at him. I’d very much like to see it, but maybe just wait. I really don't think he can handle much more. He knows how you ladies feel.” Pam crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes. But she remained silent.

When they arrived at the hotel, Rashad let the four of them walk ahead of him. He watched as Liam wrapped his arm around Anitah’s waist, pulling her tight against his side. Drake draped his arm around Pam’s shoulders and pulled her close. Before going into his room, he looked down the hall at the two couples as they reached their hotel room doors. Liam was standing behind a giggling Anitah. He leaned down and kissed her neck. Drake had Pam pinned up against their door, lips locked in a passionate kiss.

He went into his room and removed his suit jacket and tie. He threw both items onto the bed before raiding the mini bar. His phone rang and he rifled through his suit jacket to find it, hoping it was Genevieve. When he saw it was his business partner calling, he threw it across the room and watched it shatter against the wall.

Genevieve sat on her bed in her childhood bedroom, hugging her Sunshine bear. All the guests were gone, and she was finally alone. She opened her phone and went through the texts and voicemails from Rashad. The messages from the day before were more desperate than the day of the fight, his voicemails more frantic. She wiped the tears from her face. She was sick of crying. She felt like that's all she's been doing for the past few days. There was a knock on her bedroom door. She looked up as her mom, Carla, walked into the room.

Her mom sat on her bed and cupped her cheek, “Baby girl, I know you're hurting, and not just because of grandpa. That poor man looked so lost when he was here. But when the two of you saw each other, it was like the world stopped. I've never seen anything like it. You know I'd rather have you close to home than some foreign country but...your heart knows where it calls home and I don't think that's here anymore.”

Genevieve looked down as more tears streamed down her face, “He hurt me, mama. He made me feel so unimportant and disposable. Like I was...nothing.”

She pulled her daughter into her arms, “Gen, sometimes it's easier to hurt the people we love than the people that actually deserve it. It's a sad truth. I don't think he meant what he said. I think he regrets all of it, and I think you know that.” Carla tilted Genevieve's face to look up at her. “You are my daughter. I love you with all my heart. You are beautiful, intelligent, and resilient. But you are equally sarcastic, facetious, and infuriatingly stubborn. Baby, if you decide to stay, I'll be so happy to have you here. But will I have all of you or will your heart be elsewhere?” She kissed Genevieve’s forehead and left her with her thoughts.

The following morning, the five friends met in the lobby. “You guys ready to leave? We can decide who rides in which jet when we get to the airfield,” Liam said to the group.

Pam shook her head, “Actually, why don't the three of you go ahead in Rashad’s jet. Anitah and I are going to stay for a couple more days. Today is the first day Gen hasn't been surrounded by people, so I think her grandfather’s death will hit her hard...she needs us since her boyfriend is probably eager to get back to work.”

Rashad hung his head, “I deserve all of this, and I've taken everything you've given, the yelling, the anger, the hurtful words...but I can't listen to it anymore. It kills me that I've lost her. I was devastated when my ex left me. Losing Gen is a million times worse than that. Don't you see? She is my world, my everything. You both are with the love of your life. How would you feel knowing you fucked up so bad that you lost them? So please stop...I can't take anymore right now.” He walked out of the hotel without another word.

Everyone got into the limo. The men were dropping off Pam and Anitah at the Sanchez home. When they pulled up, Carla was outside throwing salt down on the slick sidewalk. She walked up to the car and greeted them. “Good morning! Is anyone hungry? I just got done cooking breakfast. My crabby little princess is inside eating right now,” she said with a laugh.

Liam shook his head, “Oh we couldn't impose, Mrs. Sanchez.”

“Nonsense! I insist, everyone inside right now.” She pointed to the house, and everyone did as they were told by Mama Carla.

They walked into the kitchen, and Genevieve smiled until her eyes fell on Rashad. Her face turned into a scowl as she grabbed her plate and walked towards the stairs.

“No food upstairs, young lady!” Carla shouted after her daughter.

“I am almost 30 years old! I will eat upstairs if I want to, especially when you invite unwanted visitors into our house,” Genevieve yelled back, stomping up every single step.

Anitah giggled as she yelled, “You’re grounded!” Just as the door slammed shut.

Carla let out a hearty laugh, “My daughter is amazing in the morning. She made me understand why wild animals eat their young. Now, there's only one rule in this house, if it's there, it needs to be eaten. So help yourselves.”

Carla arched her brow as Liam loaded his plate with bacon, sausage, eggs, pancakes and French toast. “Does no one feed you?” She pushed the plate of pancakes closer to him. Liam just smiled as he ate.

Genevieve's dad, Roberto, stood up from the table and looked directly at the men, “You better be careful...she makes you fat so you can't run away.” They all laughed as he walked into the living room.

The older woman noticed that Rashad remained quiet during the meal, barely eating. His eyes kept darting towards the stairs. She walked up behind him and put her hand on his shoulder, “Just give her some time. She's stubborn, you know that. But she will come around.” She gave his shoulder a squeeze. He smiled at her, “Thank you, Mrs-...” she gave him a warning look, and he cleared his throat, “mom.”

“Now, Drake, all this closeness is probably killing you. Roberto is probably sleeping by now. Go ahead and take the remote from him.” She winked at Drake who stood up and kissed her cheek, “Thanks, ma.”

“I've heard a lot about you, Anitah. Tell me more about yourself,” Carla inquired. Anitah cleared her throat, “Uh, I grew up in New York, literally met Prince Charming and fell in love…” Anitah giggled and Carla smiled. “Where in New York?” She asked with a thoughtful expression on her face. “I grew up in Long Beach, and I went to Fordham in the Bronx. I worked at a bar while in college. Then met this group of goons there one night.” Liam feigned offense, “Hey!”

Pam finished her plate of food and joined Drake in the living room. Roberto was asleep in his recliner when Drake took the remote from his hand. Genevieve’s dad woke up with a loud snore once Drake changed the channel. “What are you doing, boy?” Drake’s mouth fell open, “You...you were sleeping...mom said I could…”

Pam giggled and took the remote from her husband. “Drake, never touch another man’s remote.” Pam handed the controller back to Roberto as she said, “Sorry, dad. Don't mind him.”

Once Liam had his fill of food, the men said their goodbyes and left for the airport. Pam decided to check on Genevieve leaving Anitah in the kitchen with Carla. Once Pam convinced Genevieve that the boys were gone, the two women went downstairs. Anitah wiped her face when she saw her friends walk into the kitchen. Genevieve was about to say something when she saw her mom shake her head, so she kept her mouth shut.

The next day, Genevieve asked Pam and Anitah to go apartment hunting in areas near the city. She knew they were leaving the following morning. She wanted some company looking for a place close to the hospital since she no longer had a car. The girls met her realtor who took them to an Evanston apartment. Genevieve walked around the tiny living space and stopped as soon as she saw the kitchen. “Nope, not gonna work for me. I can't open the oven door all the way because it'll hit the cabinet handle.”

The realtor took them to another Evanston apartment that was only a ten minute walk from the hospital. Genevieve immediately said no because of the outdated bathroom. After several apartments, the realtor finally found one that Genevieve couldn't pick apart. Pam and Anitah stayed in the living room while she looked through the master bedroom when she heard a crash. Genevieve and the realtor came running out and saw a light fixture broken on the floor. Anitah pointed to the broken glass, “Gen, this place clearly isn't constructed very well. Do not sign the lease on this one.” The realtor stared at her with her mouth open.

The next apartment was newly renovated with a view of Lake Michigan. “I love it! This is it girls!” Genevieve squealed. “Gen, there's a giant crack in the wall. This may have some structural problems.” Pam said pointing to a large crack in the wall. The realtor was about to say something when Anitah pulled her into the hallway. “Ugh, I guess I'll have to keep looking,” Genevieve groaned.

On the ride back to Genevieve's house, Anitah asked, “Gen...are you...are you sure staying in Chicago is what you really want to do?”

Genevieve arched her brow, "What do you mean? A job like this doesn't just get handed to you every day. Some people would kill for this opportunity.” She sighed before continuing, “Besides...what's in Cordonia for me? You guys are married and you'll be starting families soon...maybe this is where I need to be."

Anitah gave her a questioning look, “Are you going to try and talk to him?”

She shrugged, "There's nothing to talk about. I told him to go home and he did...so that's that. He knows I'm taking the job...I just need to send in the offer letter."

Anitah continued to question her friend, “Well is there a reason you haven’t submitted it yet, Gen? You’ve had plenty of time to do so...yet it’s still sitting at your house...”

"It's been a busy two days with the wake and the funeral...this is the first day I've had to even think about it." Genevieve replied.

Pam couldn't hold her tongue anymore, "You're full of shit, Gen. You haven't sent that letter in because we both know that stupid asshole, who is actually a really sweet guy, who fucked up and knows it, still owns your heart. I know you're mad, but it's time to be honest. You love him..."

Genevieve fought back her tears, “Well, sometimes love isn’t enough, Pamela.”

The next day, Drake and Rashad walked into Liam's office. He finished his phone call and hung up. “The girls will be landing shortly. I sent a car to wait for them,” Liam gave Rashad a compassionate smile. “She could have changed her mind. She might be on the plane, Rashad…”

Rashad gave him an unconvincing nod. Even Drake had simmered down and started to feel bad for him. A little while later, they saw the black SUV pull up in front of the palace. The three men went outside and watched the driver open the rear passenger door. Pam, Anitah and Brad exited the vehicle. Liam and Drake greeted their wives as Rashad stared at the open door. Rashad’s heart broke when he watched the driver push it shut. She didn't come back with them.

His voice cracked as he spoke, “Welcome home, Pam, Anitah. I’m going to head out…” He wiped the tear that rolled down his cheek. Pam and Anitah gave him a sympathetic smile.

After he got into his car, another black SUV pulled up blocking him in his parking spot. He groaned, knowing he was stuck until the vehicle moved. Looking through his rearview mirror, he watched the driver get out and open the rear door. When the door shut, he saw her. He turned around in his seat and looked out of the rear windshield to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. He fumbled with the door handle and got out of his car. There she was, standing in front of him.

“You...came back…” He took a few tentative steps towards her. She smiled as tears rolled down her cheeks, “No, I came home.”

He closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her. Unable to hold back his emotions, he broke down crying. She held him tightly as she sobbed in his arms.

“God, I missed you. I love you, Gen. I will spend every single day showing you how sorry I am and how much I love you. Your happiness will always come before anyone or anything. I can't live without you.”

“I missed you too, and I love you so much, Rashad. But we need to talk. We have a lot to work on...together...” she managed to say through sobs.

“Whatever it takes, sweetheart. I just never want to be without you...ever again,” He replied wiping the tears from her face.

“Oh my god! Kiss her already!” Anitah shouted.

The pair turned to their friends. Liam and Drake were grinning from ear to ear while Pam and Anitah were crying. She smiled up at him, and he leaned down capturing her mouth in a passionate kiss. She closed her eyes relishing the feeling of his lips on hers.

After they broke apart, Rashad walked up to Anitah and Pam, “You guys put me through the ringer...but thank you for being such good friends to her, and having her back when I didn’t.” The two women threw their arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug. “We forgive you, cinnamon roll!”

“Let's go home,” Rashad grabbed Genevieve’s hand and led her towards his car.

A Few Weeks Later…

Rashad and Genevieve were hosting dinner in Domvallier. The friends were laughing and talking during their meal. Demetrius walked in with an envelope in his hand, “Rashad, son, what is this bill from Chicago?”

Thinking it was a bill from the hotel from when threw his phone, he took the paper from his father. “This is a bill for damage to two apartments in Evanston. This must be a mistake.”

Anitah was drinking her water when she choked on it causing her to spit it out. Pam tucked her lips between her teeth to keep from laughing. Genevieve noticed the two women turning red, “Oh my god! You two broke that stuff in those apartments so I wouldn't sign the lease?”

Rashad questioned her, “What are you talking about, sweetie?”

“Before I decided to come home, I was looking at apartments. In one of them the light fixture ‘fell’ from the ceiling, and in another there was a huge crack in the wall.” Genevieve snorted, “And then you told them to bill Rashad? That's brilliant!”

The three women burst out laughing while Liam glared at Anitah. “You're welcome, Rashad! You're welcome.” Anitah said through her laughter.

Rashad chuckled, “It's a small price to pay, I suppose. I'll take care of it, Father.”

[sascerides]

The Line - A Short Story

This year, I challenged myself to write 12 short stories. One for each month. Each of them inspired by a randomly generated word. Story number five is completely fictional and any resemblance to current or historical events is definitely intentional.

Also, most (read: all) of my stories feature some flaming homosexuals. In this one, it’s a bit more literal than usually. 

Previous stories (as well as some stories from last year) are here. Word number five was “line” and here’s the story:  (TW: xenophobia, genocide, hatred, homophobia)

In the beginning it was just words. Now, words have made all the difference. Now, words have become weapons and words will not save them.

___

In the beginning it was just words. Words to describe people and words to describe the difference. The difference between the Ignis and the people who didn’t have the flame. To Veronica they were “flamers” until she was taught a different word by the Ignis themselves. But in the beginning, it was only words. There were those who had the flame and those who did not. Those who walked down the street proud with their eyes flashing orange with flame. Those who could light up a room with a flick of their wrist. Who could throw a spark from their fingertip or light a bonfire from the palms of their hands. And then there were those who could not. There were those who despised the Ignis, but mostly there were those who didn’t care.

There were those who said the Ignis did not belong with “normal people”. Those who would not offer them jobs. Those who didn’t want them teaching their children. Didn’t want them doing their fireshows in the streets. Touching fingertips in rains of sparks when they kissed.

There were those who fought for equal rights. Those who spoke up for the Ignis and the Ignis spoke up for themselves. But back then it was only the words. It was only words and Veronica did not know that words would make all the difference.

Veronica was 27 when she met Marc. Veronica, still young and naive and eager to learn. Marc, tall and bright and fiery hot. Marc standing on a square throwing fireballs into the air, catching them on his chest, bouncing them off his forearms. Producing more in a feinted hiccup to the sound laughter from the crowd. His deep blue eyes flashing orange with each flame he drew from his skin. He smiled at her, and she smiled back at him and after this they had coffee. On a hot summer day, banners flying above them, shouting and signs. Slogans and sirens. She was standing in the crowd, Marc pulling her with him towards a friend of his. “She’s just your type Vee” he said. And Marc was right about Pam, as he was right about so many other things. Marc went with them to rallies for equal marriage. Just like they went to rallies for his right to marry Karen, who didn’t have the flame. And when they finally could marry, it was Marc who sent the fireworks off to the sky, even as Karen stood by with no ring on her finger. Back then, they were all young and naive and they believed in change. Back then they were all filled with fire, both those who had it and those who did not. Back then it was different. Back then, it was only words. The first to change was the words. The Ignis no longer named themselves. To others, they were the flamers. To others they were “different” “unlike us” “unsociable”. The first to change was the words and the words made them other.

The first to change was the words but the symbols followed. At first, the flames were only graffiti, bright red and orange spread across the city. Like a shadow growing when you look away. It appeared on fences and trains and subway tunnels.

On a hot summer morning, Veronica and Pam were walking down the street. Hand in hand. The city was sticky and smelly and shaking with shouts. The air on their street heavy with smoke and old Mrs Walton was wailing. Her son furious, sweeping up glass from the street. Her daughter in law silently crying on the doorstep of their shoe shop. As they walked by, Mr Walton picked up a piece of paper from the floor, shook the glass off and held it up to them. A flame crudely drawn on it, the paper crumbled where it had been wrapped around a brick. Mr Walton didn’t say anything, he simply looked at them, sad and angry and terrified at the same time. He stared into their eyes as he let the paper go up in flames in his hands.

In the autumn, the Walton’s closed their shop. Their windows had been smashed one too many times. They’d had one too many crudely drawn flames  sprayed onto their walls and their door. They packed up and they closed up and Veronica and Pam never saw them again. By then, those who drew the flames were no longer just rebels. By then, they were wearing uniforms.

By winter, the flames were being printed into the passport of every Ignis in the country. By spring, the Ignis were told to wear orange on their coats. Orange in their hats. Orange on their sleeves. Always orange. Always the same, fiery, government-mandated orange colour.

On the night that colour spread across the country Pam was angry. Karen was fuming. Marc was just quiet. Sitting in the corner, stitching an orange armband onto his coat. Some had burned theirs, some had burned the papers decreeing their use. Some had screamed and shouted and cried for change. Marc just stitched in silence.

Then, he rose, putting on his coat, the orange almost matching his hair and the fire in his eyes, and at the same time not matching at all. Those bright eyes of his now cold and dark and blue looking at Karen, then at his friends. “Well,” he said, and Veronica will never be able to forget it, “we’ve seen this before haven’t we? We know where it leads.”.

That was the last time they saw him for years. He drifted off into the night and he was on the front lines sometimes. Sometimes he was just fighting behind the scenes. Karen married another. Pam and Veronica lived their lives and life went on. Orange or not. At least for a while. There were words that became more common. Words such as “flamers” and “fire hazards” and “those ones”. And there were words that seemed to disappear. Once summer came around again, somehow the “people”  had disappeared from the language on the streets. Somehow, the people of the flames became just flames. Just fire. Just danger. Not people.

Pam called up Marc from the safety of their home. She told him they would support him “if the time comes”. She told him they cared. Marc thanked them, but he didn’t call them back and they did not call him again for years to come. There were fires in the suburbs. There were riots on the streets. But they were safe in their home.

They were safe, and so was Quincy.

He came to them on a summer day. Tiny and innocent and unaware of the family he had lost. He came to them an infant. Eyes closed, fast asleep and he woke to be loved. And he grew to be loved. Safe and sound in the arms of his mothers. Those big brown eyes of his filing with wonder at everything he saw.

Pam’s mother didn’t want to meet her daughter’s wife. She did, however, want to meet her grandson. On a warm autumn day she received all three of them in her home. When her eyes met Quincy’s for the first time she was filled with love. It was as if she forgot all the hatred she used to harbour for her daughter. It was as if all the anger went out of her.

“I just hope he’s not from a family of flamers” she said “They’re unruly I hear. They’re barely human those ones” she said. And Pam smiled and Veronica smiled and Quincy gurgled and nobody said anything. They all smiled and her words passed unchallenged.

In the darkness of the winter the words became action. Those who said the words started saying them with their fists. And even in the winter, the Ignis started wearing sunglasses to hide their eyes, to hide their flame.

Pam took Veronica to a fire show on the night of the first snow in Quincy’s second year. It was the last one they saw. They met in an abandoned warehouse in secret. Just a group of the old friends. Marc was there, standing tall, his eyes burning with pride and anger as he presented each performer in a solemn voice. He did not mention those who had left. Those who had disappeared. Those who weren’t there. He didn’t need to. Their names rang loud and clear in his silence.

By the end of the night they ran home through the snow. A group of “firefighters” close at their heels. Carrying clubs and shouts of hatred. There were people there that night they wouldn’t see again.

When he was seven years old, Veronica took Quincy to the zoo. He stared at the animals, his eyes wide with wonder. He asked her why they were in cages and she told him it was to keep them safe. He did not understand. On the train home he fell asleep on her shoulder and woke up to shouts. A teenage girl had sneezed and accidentally let a spark fly from her fingertip. A man, twice her size was looming over her shouting words even Veronica had never heard before. She said nothing. No one said anything. The girl cried. Quincy stood up, his eyes wide with wonder. He looked at the man and he asked him “why do you shout at her?”. The man looked at him and he did not have an answer. He left the train in silence. The girl continued to cry but when Quincy took her hand she smiled through her tears. Veronica had never been prouder.

Within their walls of safety and privilege Quincy was growing longer and stronger and more curious by the day. He was staying out in the sunny afternoons, he was having friends. He was bringing them home and kissing them in secret behind the shed. And he thought that they did not know that Peter and Liam and Joe were all friends but something more as well. On a cold autumn afternoon, he came home with ashes on his jeans and Veronica found herself shouting at him.

Pam, sitting in the sofa, knitting, eyes on her needles, fear hiding in the corners of her mouth. Veronica, standing in the light of the fireplace shivering as she watched her twelve year old son turn into a child once again. “I’m sorry Ma. I didn’t know. I’ll be more careful. I went with a friend. It was just a show, just a small one. Peter’s family are… ”.

“I don’t want to know about Peter and his family!” She shouted "I don’t want you hanging around in these places. Maybe Peter isn’t good company, Quin". Even she could hear what she was saying in between her words. Pam said nothing and Quincy did not know. In that night Pam seemed so small, so scared. Tossing in her sleep trying to forget a thing she did not want to know. “If it goes too far” she said over breakfast. “If it goes to far we will fight. If they cross the line. We will fight”. Veronica just smiled at her in the morning light. When he was thirteen, Quincy came home with tears in his eyes. Peter had not turned up to school, and neither had his brothers. A billboard had been posted outside the school. “No flamers here”. Pam held him has he cried but she had no words to explain this to him. On the television they were talking about fires every day. Fires lit in schools. Fires lit in parliament. Fires lit in shops. Of course, everyone knew who was to blame. Of course, everyone knew what must be done. At first, it was said between the lines. Then, it was said openly. From the mouth of the president, through a speaker. For everyone to hear. At first there were some who spoke other words. At first, the Ignis were shouting on the street and they were joined by allies. Mixed groups of orange and black. Then, the leader of the Ignis-Ally party was found burned to death in a gutter on a Friday night. It was Saturday morning, when Marc turned up on their doorstep drenched in sweat. Fear in his eyes when he took of his sunglasses. “Do you see what they’re doing Pam? Vee?” He said. “We need your help”. “They won’t listen to us anymore.” Marc told them. “The Ignis need you now. We need you to speak up.” He said, but then his eyes met Quincy’s and he turned to look at Veronica, a flash of terror on his face. “No.” He  said, backing out of their living room. “Never mind. I didn’t realise. I forgot you had a son. It’s not safe to help. I’m sorry. I was never here”. He touched Quin’s head and he smiled at him. Pam asked him to stay. Asked him how they could help but he only shook Quincy’s hand and told him to stay safe, to keep his mothers safe.

He came to them for help but he left empty handed and silently they were relived.

“It’s not our fight to fight, Pam” Veronica said in bed in the dark, when her face could not betray her. “Don’t you think we’ve fought enough?” She said. “We have Quincy to worry about”. Pam said nothing but Veronica could feel her shaking in the night.

In the beginning it was just words. Words in a speech. Words in the newspapers. Words written on the streets. Then, the words became lists and tests and registers. And the lists became neighbourhoods just for the Ignis. They said it was fireproof buildings and some believed it was for the better.

Quincy asked them why the Ignis had to live in special buildings. Veronica told him it was to keep them safe and he said he did not understand.

Within a month it was no longer buildings but trains. Fire-proof trains.

At first it was just words, but the words became signs and the signs became laws and the laws became camps. And the words in the newspapers were “for safety-purposes”. “To keep the fire contained” “for public safety”.   On the day the first camp was opened, Quincy was gone. Pam was out of herself. Calling his current “special friend". Calling his teachers. Shouting down the street. Veronica waited on the stairs and she was the first to see him come home.

Her little boy so tall now with his fifteen years weighing on his shoulders and blood streaming from his brow.

“I’m sorry Ma” was all he said, peeling off his jacket avoiding her eyes. “You were at a protest weren’t you?”. Her attempt at anger barely covering the pride in her voice. Quincy didn’t answer her question. “I was with Aidan” was all he had to say.

He sat down. Slumped down at the kitchen table, his eyes on the floor. Pam was washing his wound.

“It’s not safe Quin” Pam said, and she did not sound proud, she sounded scared. Just scared. “I know you want to help, but you have to stay out of it”. Quincy sighed. He looked at them and he had all the fire and anger of a frightened fifteen year old. “You always said you’d fight when they crossed the line!” he said. His voice too young for his words. “Well, they’ve crossed the line. They’re building camps” He said. “What if it was me? would you fight then?” The kitchen was silent. Too silent. Then, Pam shook her head.

“Well… it isn’t you, Quin. Thank god, it isn’t you”. In the beginning it was just words. In the end, the government didn’t even try to hide it. They were “making the world a safer place”. They were “removing hazardous individuals”. They were “extinguishing the fire”. They were drowning innocent people.   When she first heard, Veronica threw up in the kitchen sink. Outside in the streets she knew protests were starting. Some would be fighting for the rights of the Ignis. Some would be running and hiding. Some would be quenching their fire themselves. Jumping in the river, lying down to sleep in their tubs. Some would be fighting for their lives in the streets, lighting as many fires as they had to light. Some would be fighting against the camps, some would be fighting for them. Some would just be there for the fight.

The only thing she could do was to pray that her son was enough of an ignorant and naive teenager to be in bed with Aidan and not on the streets in the fire and the water and the blood.

Veronica was watching the news when Pam walked in, her face so tired. There seemed to be lines in it that she had never noticed before. "This is too much" Pam said, turning off the television. "This is where I draw the line. Vee, we have to do something" "What do we do? We can't stop this. It's too late." Veronica said. Thinking back on Marc. The fear in his eyes as he left them. "We should have drawn the line years ago” Pam said nothing. She made tea. She twiddled her thumbs. She started knitting then put the knit work aside.

"Can you still reach Marc?" Veronica asked, not sure she wanted to know the answer. "We could harbour someone. Provide a safe house.” Pam’s silence was louder than any words she could have used. It grew with the ticking of the clocks, with the hum of traffic from the main road. Big and taut and bursting with fear.

“We’ll have to speak to Quin” she finally said. “He needs to know the danger we’ll be putting him in… us all in. We need to know if that friend of his… boyfriend…Aidan?... if he’s trustworthy”.

Veronica sighed. They weren’t going to press Quincy on the boyfriend issue but they no longer had the luxury to wait. She nodded. “We’ll speak to him when he gets back.” Pam reached out, took her hand, then smiled. And somehow her smile turned into a laugh. “Does he really think we don’t know?” she laughed. “Oh to be young and innocent and naive still, huh?”. Veronica said nothing. She knew Pam could hear the hollowness in her own words. No need for her to point it out.

Quincy didn’t come home that night. Nor the one after.

For 8 days Pam didn’t eat. She barely slept. She shrunk into a shadow of her self. Coming home after hours of searching, Veronica touched her in the night. Pam pulled away from her and neither of them said anything. Pam called her mother when she thought Veronica didn’t hear. She hung up mid-sentence and she cried but she didn’t speak of it.

Quincy didn’t answer his phone. His boyfriend didn’t answer his phone. His teachers said he didn’t come to school. His friends said he’d been at a protest, they hadn’t seen him since. They hadn’t seen Aidan either. The house fell silent and cold. ____

In the beginning it was just words. Now, Veronica has run out of words to say.

In the evening of the eighth day Veronica is hanging up the phone after yet another unsuccessful phone call. Pam is sitting silently next to her, staring at nothing but the air in front of her. The room has grown dark, the candle on the table has flickered out with a gust of wind. They are both so deep in their desperation, they don’t even hear him come in.

"Mom. Ma” Quincy is standing in the door, pale and thin and barely there. His boyfriend behind him, a hand on his shoulder. Quincy looks cold and young and tired. Aidan has a black eye and a haunted look about him.

“Where have you been?" Pam asks. It’s the first word she has said in days. She is so struck by his presence she doesn’t even know how to stand, how to run to him.

Quincy doesn't answer. His face is pale, his hands shaking. He doesn't look like the young man they've raised. His 16 years seem to have fallen off and reduced him to the child he used to be. Young and scared and innocent.

Aidan moves closer, lightly touching the back his neck. “It’s alright Q. Just tell them. It’ll be fine” he says, but he doesn’t sound like he believes the words himself.

"There's something you have to know... about me” he says, glancing back at Aidan "and Aidan too I guess”

He looks too scared about this. Surely he must know they know. He must know they've both had to do this themselves, years ago. Surely he didn’t need to disappear for eight days for this.

Pam takes Veronica's hand again for the first time since he left. It seems to Veronica there’s a knowing smile on her face.

"We know darling, we've known for years” She says, bursting with relief.

"No" Quincy says, walking into the dark room, Aidan standing back "You really don't” His voice is thick, on the point of breaking.

He looks at Pam, then at Veronica. Sighs. "I'm..." his words catch in his throat. Then, he reaches down to the candle on the table.

Quincy closes his eyes and stretches out a singe finger, touching the tip to the candlewick.

"I'm sorry Mum. Sorry Ma”.

He opens his eyes, bright and scared and flaming orange.

From his fingertip leaps a spark, then a single flame lighting the candle. And even as the light fills the room, the world grows darker around them.

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