#i think about her between the sheets episode multiple times a week | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

raysofcrosby · 3 years

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ummm i would love a sneak peak if the au!

hehehe wltay au chapter sneak peek #1 / tw: mentions of abortion

He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten her appointment. Just a little over a week ago he’d been sitting across from her as she told him her feared news and then he promised to go with her to her appointment at Planned Parenthood with her before she fell asleep crying in his arms. He was terrified, so he could only imagine how scared she must’ve been– especially when he hadn’t shown up.

God, he hated himself for forgetting. For letting the presence of the Blues players and Coach himself distract him from being able to support her at a time when she no doubtedly needed him most. But he couldn’t help it– the opportunity to workout with current NHL players was there for the taking. And sure he’d done it before since his Dad is who he is, but this was different, so much different. Because he was only a year out from the draft himself. He could practically see himself skating on the ice for his first NHL game.

Which is why he felt so guilty for letting Caroline go alone, even though she said she hadn’t. She might’ve brought Heather into the building and room with her, but Matt was the one she wanted there– she needed there. And he knew it.

After their phone call, Matt kept thinking about it– how he had broken his promise to her about showing up. He’d always been able to keep his promises to her, even all the way in Ann Arbor. He’d promised to go to Junior prom with her, and while Caroline laughed it off, thinking that he was joking...he was buying a plane ticket home.

He tried to keep his focus on working out on the ice with everyone, but the other half of his focus was on Caroline. And how, even though she said it was okay that he forgot and wasn’t there...he knew it wasn’t. So, while taking passes from NHL players, he was thinking about how he could make it up to her. She said she was tired, that she didn’t want to stay up and watch the new episode of 20/20, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have his Dad stop somewhere on the way home so he could grab her a milkshake or some of her favorite ice cream as an ‘I’m sorry, please don’t hate me, I love you’ apology gift.

And he did, he bought her a little chocolate mousse cake he knew that she liked. When he went home, he quickly showered and opted out of dinner, telling his parents he was going over to Caroline’s house. Only when he went over and knocked on the door...it was her Mom that answered. And when he asked if he could see Caroline, she had told him that she wasn’t home, but he could check down the block at Aunt Clara’s rental since she was doing some cleaning and yard work before the new renters were set to move in.

That was weird...when he asked if he could come over to watch 20/20, she said not today and pretty much insinuated that she was too tired and was probably just going to go to bed. Yet...had she gone over to help Aunt Clara with her yard work and house cleaning? Nonetheless, he made his way down the block and knocked on the front door to Aunt Clara’s home. She looked surprised to see him when she answered the door, almost nervous. Which made him nervous.

“Mrs. Susan said Care wasn’t home and to come check over here since you’re in town...can I see her please?” He asked, holding the thawing chocolate mousse container in his hands.

He could see the hesitance in her eyes when she opened her mouth to speak, and for a split second he contemplated cutting her off and asking what was going on and why Caroline was avoiding him. But he didn’t, because Aunt Clara stepped aside, letting him into the house.

“She’s in the master bedroom.” She nodded, closing the door once he walked into the fully furnished house. She led him down the hallway, stopping just before the first guest bedroom and looking at him, a solemn expression on her face. “You two need to talk and I need you to listen to her, okay?”

“Okay...why?” Matt asked, unsure what to make of her ominous warning. Had she known about where Caroline went today? If there was anyone Caroline had told besides him and Heather...it would be Aunt Clara.

Aunt Clara was like her older sister.

“Just...listen to her. Don’t jump to conclusions, don’t get into that on-ice mindset...just listen.” She said, nodding him down the hall.

He walked towards the master bedroom, looking back at Aunt Clara again as she walked out into the living room, before knocking on the bedroom door.

“I’m fine, Aunt Clara.” Caroline spoke, sounding anything but fine.

Matt opened the door slowly, peeking his head in to see Caroline lying down in the bed beneath the sheet and comforter, her back facing him. Aunt Clara, whenever she was in town and cleaning up the house, always stayed here herself since it was cheaper and right down the block from her family. So it wasn’t a surprise that Caroline was so comfortable lying beneath the fresh sheets and blanket.

He slid into the room through the cracked open door, shutting it behind him as he walked towards the bed. “Care?”

She froze, her shoulders stopping mid breath as he moved closer to the bed, yet she still kept her back to him. “I’m tired, Matty.”

“I know...I just wanted to bring you something, but your Mom said you might be down here and Aunt Clara let me in,” he placed the plastic container down on the bedside table and sat down on the edge of the bed, turning towards her. “She said that we needed to talk...but I–I’m not sure what about, Care.”

He keeps his eyes on her, she still hasn’t rolled over to look at him or even moved in general. He heard her start to sniffle and he crawled over to her, holding himself up on his left elbow as he laid behind her, resting his right hand on her arm. “I-I’m sorry.” She sniffled again, wiping at her face with her hands.

“What are you talking about?” He asked, rubbing her arm. “I’m so confused right now, between Aunt Clara and you, I...I don’t know what to think. What’s going on?”

“I lied to you...earlier on the phone. I told you I–” She took a deep, shaky breath and then exhaled, keeping her back to him still. “Matt...I’m pregnant, the test was positive.”

He sat back, rolling off of his side as his hand fell from her arm as it was as if his last breath had been sucked right out of him. “W-What? But you said–”

“I lied,” she replied, speaking softly. “I lied because I–I…” she let out a shaky breath again, and then another sniffle.

“Caroline, bab–” he paused, swallowing back the rest of the word ‘baby’ because he didn’t want to say it, he didn’t even want to think about it. “Please roll over….”

Pregnant. She was pregnant. They were 17 and going to be parents to another human being...a baby.

After wiping at her face again, Caroline rolled over onto her right side, resting her arms up by her head as she looked at him. He could tell she’d been crying for God knows how long. Her eyes were swollen and red, the tip of her nose and her cheeks were red as well. Not to mention the dried streaks old tears had left behind.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, Care?” He asked, crawling beneath the sheets and comforter before sinking down into the mattress and draping his left arm over her, pulling her into his side. “Why did you tell me the test was negative?”

“Because I...I’m not keeping it,” she whispered, her bottom lip quivering as she looked up at him. “And I didn’t want you to stay behind and be late going up to Ontario.”

He wasn’t sure how to feel, hearing her make that decision without him. Sure, he would’ve done whatever she wanted to do, because it is her body, but it was also half of his baby...and he wasn’t sure how he felt about not being able to grieve that loss if she had done it without him. But more importantly...he didn’t want her to go through that alone.

No one should ever have to go through that alone or make that decision alone. Not at seventeen, not ever.

“I wouldn’t have been mad,” he whispered, his left thumb brushing against her shoulder. “If you would’ve told me you were pregnant on the phone. I want to be with you Care, every step of the way, no matter what you decide you want to do. You just have to be honest with me.”

She nodded, pressing her head further into his chest. “I ran out of my appointment,” she sniffled, brushing her hand up beneath his shirt and rubbing her left thumb against his torso. “The doctor came in, said I was pregnant and it was like I blacked out. She started talking about options and wanting to do an ultrasound to see how far along I was and I...I just ran out.”

He wrapped his right arm around her, rolling her on top of him, his right hand brushing up her shirt as his thumb brushed against the small of her back. “I’m sorry for forgetting,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. “I never wanted you to go alone...you shouldn’t have had to do that alone.”

She slid both of her arms underneath his back, wrapping him in a hug as she pressed her right ear against his chest, easily hearing his heartbeat. “I was so scared,” she whimpered, tears burning in her eyes. “There were protesters on the street a-and I had to get escorted in and–”

“Did any of them say anything to you?” He asked, his voice stern as he looked towards her for a reaction.

“No, no...they were outside the property. So if they were yelling at me, I wasn’t sure...there were multiple people being escorted.” She replied, turning towards him and resting her chin on his chest. “And being in that room...filling out the paperwork, answering all of their questions and ugh, even peeing in the cup...I just, I felt…”

“I’m sorry,” he frowned, squeezing her lightly. “I’m so fucking sorry, Caroline. I should’ve been there and I’m so mad at myself for forgetting about it.”

“It’s okay, Matty,” she whispered, her hazel eyes brimmed with tears. “It’s your future, I understand.”

He opened his mouth to speak, to oppose her self-made excuse for him...but he couldn’t. Because it is his future. A future he’s dreamed about since before he could even remember. A future that he always planned on sharing with her. And depending on how their current situation plays out...a future that could mean the absolute difference in their lives in terms of support.

“I have to go back,” she said, bringing her left arm up from beneath him and wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. “I have to have an ultrasound so they can figure out how far along I am and...and what options I have.”

He nodded, bringing his right hand out from beneath her shirt and cupping the right side of her face, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Okay, I’ll be there. Hell, we can even spend the night here or something, that way you know I’ll be there. I’ll drive.”

She laughed, her lips quivering again as she nodded, tears brimming in her eyes once more. “I’d love that...please.”

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, his thumb brushing away a falling tear. “I’ll be right there with you.”

He leaned his head forward and kissed her before letting his head rest back into the pillow, his hand brushing through her hair as she rested her head on his chest. With her head resting against his chest, he knew he was out of her eyesight and the calm demeanor he’d managed to keep on his face, quickly fell. His eyebrows furrowed, his nose would scrunch and his lips twitched, all in an attempt to stop himself from letting that burning feeling in his eyes win.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t just seen their dreams and futures going down the drain, he totally did. How the hell were they supposed to raise and parent a baby when they were only seventeen? The two had just gotten grounded not too long ago when they were at the beach house in Florida because they failed to come back at curfew, too busy sitting out on the beach alternating between making out and staring up at the night sky, talking about the future.

A future where he’d be off in his rookie year in the NHL, hopefully close by to her at Boston, where she’d be playing field hockey for the next four years and working on her Bachelors. And in the summers, they’d fly back home together and spend those months together and with their families before jetsetting back to Boston in the fall. And not that she knew this part, but by graduation, he hoped to have saved enough money to buy her an engagement ring worthy of her and that showed just how important she was to him. She’d go to grad school and when she finished, they’d get married that offseason and who knows, maybe start a family soon after like his parents had done.

It was his six, almost seven year plan.

But it seemed as if they’d skipped those very important first few steps that was going to be the platform of the foundation his plan sat on– because suddenly, 23 or 24, newly married and maybe starting a family, turned into seventeen and expecting a baby. No college degrees, no NHL salary, no engagement ring– nothing. Life literally laughed in their faces and said, ‘hey, here’s a baby instead, enjoy!’

#frederickanderson #answered #wltay

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peepeepotter · 4 years

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New Girl Hogwarts AU Chapter 3: Ginny’s Visit

A/N: I don’t love this chapter, it’s more to show some of the pairings and get George and the reader closer. Also, this is based off of a New Girl episode. Most of this fic will be based off of the first two seasons. I’ll try to combine multiple episodes in the next chapter if you guys don’t mind it feeling a bit rushed? Otherwise I can write them out individually.

Pairing: George Weasley x (Fem!)reader

Warning: Cursing, sexually suggestive? Idk we’re still PG-13 for now

Word Count: ~3.5k

Series Masterlist

“Hey can you come pick me up? I don’t think I’m sober enough to apparate right now.” Ginny asked immediately after Y/N picked up the phone.

“What about that guy you were seeing? The one that takes his shirt off too much, whatever his name is. Why can’t he take you home?” Y/N asked, getting out of bed and slipping shoes on quickly. She figured she might already know the answer.

“He’s an ASSHOLE that keeps flirting with other girls. I just caught him making out with some bitch in the club-”

“No other bitch, just you! You’re my bitch!”

“Viktor, that doesn’t mean what you think it means, you absolute blubbering idiot.” Y/N could hear the two of them arguing through the speaker of her slightly cracked iPhone 4. She rolled her eyes as she grabbed her keys for the loft.

“Where are you? I’m coming.”

“The Golden Snitch. That new one in diagon.” Y/N rolled her eyes. All of those lame ass quidditch lovers ended up at that club. She knew her best friend played professionally, but she couldn’t help but think about the fact that some of those quidditch players didn’t have a personality outside of the sport.

“I’ll be there in two shakes,” before Y/N could finish her old phrase, she was cut off by George entering her room and speaking.

“You bloody American, would you please stop using old farmer’s phrases?”

“Do you mind, like, knocking?” Y/N rolled her eyes as she turned his way.

“Oh you mean like how you totally DIDN’T a few weeks ago?”

“Oh my god, I DID knock, it’s not my fault you BLAST your music!”

“Will you two shut the fuck up and get a room?” Ginny interrupted the bickering.

“Actually we’re in a room, sister dear.”

“I don’t think that’s the quip you think it is.” Ginny laughed, definitely better at teasing her brother than a decade ago.

“Whatever, what the fuck do you want anyway?” George asked, getting closer to Y/N and her phone.

“See, this is why I NEVER call you for help,” Ginny grunted.

“I’m picking her up from the Golden Snitch and taking her home.” Y/N interrupted the argument just waiting to happen between the siblings.

“Actually, can I stay at your place? Viktor’s shit is at my place and I’d really rather not see him.”

“Yeah that’s fine,” Y/N said at the same time George spoke.

“Absolutely not.”

“George, give your sister a break. Can you please go make sure the couch is made up for her and that the guys aren’t naked when I’m back?” Y/N asked George.

“No promises,” George winked before exiting the room.

“God I swear I can HEAR the sexual tension between you two.” Ginny mumbled.

“Gross, Gin, that’s your brother you’re talking about. Anyway, I’ll be there in like three minutes.” Y/N hung up, and in the blink of an eye she was in diagon alley, walking quickly toward the club playing the Weird Sisters. It was a matter of minutes before Y/N found her way towards the DJ’s booth where Ginny was arguing with Viktor. She was about ready to hex him, or the DJ he had apparently made out with, when Y/N decided to intervene.

“Ginerva darling, I’m here, let’s go home.” Y/N grabbed Ginny’s hand, ready to drag her out of the club. As they walked away Y/N could hear Ginny whisper a hex, and the ensuing shriek from Viktor. Soon they made it to the apparition spot where Ginny side-alonged Y/N to just outside the loft door.

“Why do you guys have protection charms again? What year is this, 1886?”

“I literally live with the chosen one. I feel like that’s justification enough.” Y/N rolled her eyes, mumbling a few spells to disarm the hexes as she unlocked the door with her key. They stumbled into the loft, where, unsurprisingly, Draco stood in just his underwear, Harry without a shirt, George sat on the couch with a beer in hand, and Neville sat with a plant in his lap.

“GEORGE!” Y/N yelled over the argument Draco and Harry were having. He looked over at her and shrugged.

“What can you really do with these guys, ya know?” Y/N flipped him off before pulling the grown men apart.

“Get a room lovers.” Y/N rolled her eyes pushing them apart as she shooed George and Neville off the couch and started making a bed for Ginny.

“LOVERS? God, it’s like you don’t even know us.” Draco shouted, clearly fuming at Harry for...reasons unknown.

“Draco, babe, it’s called sarcasm.” Y/N said as she tucked a sheet around the couch cushions.

“Hey Gin,” Harry pulled her in for a side hug as Ginny turned pink. A childhood crush that never seemed to go anywhere still seemed to bother Ginny. Ginny returned the side hug, and then started taking off her shoes.

“I feel like you’re about half naked every time I see you.” Draco remarked to Ginny, who had a black minidress on, as he sat down on the side of the couch Y/N wasn’t making into a bed. Y/N smacked him.

“Awfully bold of you to say when you’re only in your knickers.” Ginny quipped, rolling her eyes.

“Potter, control your girlfriend.”

“PARDON?” Ginny yelled as Y/N hit his chest again.

“Malfoy, I will actually sectumsempra your ass again.” Harry said, coming up behind Draco to smack the side of his head.

“ANYWAY...you’re making me sleep on the couch?” Ginny asked, plopping down on the unfinished bed Y/N had been in the middle of making.

“Um, yeah, Gin. You steal the covers and we live in a loft. You could say it’s a bit,” Y/N giggled to herself before finishing the joke. “Lofty in here.”

“I hate it here.” Said Harry.

“Literally get out.” Unsurprisingly, from Draco.

“Oh, Merlin, yeah that was pretty bad Y/N.” Neville spoke gently.

“George, oh my god, are you laughing at that?” Ginny accused.

“What? No! Puns are the bane of my existence.” George said, clearly trying to stifle his giggles.

“Bad jokes aside, I hate this couch. It’s got a permanent dip in it from when George didn’t get up off of it for like, a week, when you showed him that one muggle show.” Ginny said

“Friends is so much more than a muggle show.” George hissed.

“George, every year without your far funnier twin your sense of humor gets significantly worse.” Draco said without looking up from his phone. George tensed as Y/N once again smacked Draco on the chest.

“You’re awfully moody tonight, yeah?” Y/N whispered angrily at Draco.

“Sorry, just shit going on at work.”

“You mean how your work wife is engaged?” “Shut the fuck-”

“You know you could just...tell her how you feel?” Y/N suggested as she plopped down in between George and Draco.

“He’s a man, he’ll never do that. I bet he’ll do something dramatic like sabotage the wedding instead.” At that, Draco looked up from his phone and over to Ginny with a grin.

“Maybe one of the Weasley’s are intelligent afterall.” Draco smirked.

“Don’t do that.” Y/N said, hoping that Draco wouldn’t ruin the only other friendship she had outside of the people in the loft.

“No promises. Anyway, I still have time to break them up.” Which made everyone in the loft groan.

“Can I complain about sleeping on the couch again? When is someone going to offer me their bed?” Ginny said, glaring Y/N down.

“You can sleep in my bed.” Harry said, sitting on the floor staring at his phone. Ginny turned pink.

“In my own house? Oh my,” George giggled, but stopped after Ginny glared at him. Harry looked up.

“We practically grew up together. It’s fine.” He shrugged, although Y/N noticed a hint of a blush in his cheeks as well. Y/N found herself smirking. “Yeah George, they’re grown ups. Grown ups can share a bed platonically.” She said, hinting at him to drop it. He smirked as well, nodding.

The next morning, Y/N arose to hear rushed whispers in the living room. She cracked her door, knowing that if she entered the conversation would likely stop.

“I’m IN!!”

“Dude, holding her hand is not ‘in.’”

“Whatever, you’re just mad because you’ve never held H-”

“Don’t finish that.” Draco warned.

Y/N tip-toed out to the kitchen where the two were chatting.

“You DO like her!! You big idiot!!” Y/N whispered, scaring Harry at the sudden appearance.

“How am I a big idiot? We shared a bed last night, I made a move!”

“That girl has had a crush on you since she was like ten! You call sharing a bed making a move? The right move to make would be, like, confessing your love for her or something.” Y/N sighed, moving over to the coffee pot of which only she used.

“Whatever, at least I can pick up on signals.” Harry mumbled.

“What is THAT supposed to mean?” Y/N said, turning around to face him quickly.

“Oh nothing, other than that George totally likes you.” Draco chipped in.

“He does not! Did he say that to you?” Y/N stopped, her heart dropping. Her stomach had a weird feeling she couldn’t quite place.

“No, but he doesn’t need to. It’s in the body language. Besides, puns really used to be the absolute bane of his existence. He and Fred were quite high and mighty with their senses of humor.” Harry shrugged.

“I’m sorry, do you call pranking high and mighty?”

“What about pranking?” George said, strolling into the room, his hair a mess and wearing the same clothes from yesterday.

“Nothing.” Draco, Harry, and Y/N unisoned.

“Good morning sunshine.” Y/N grinned as Ginny walked into the room looking an even bigger mess than George.

“Sleeping beauty.” Draco chimed.

“Shut the fuck up. You, don’t.” Ginny said, stopping Harry before he could join in the teasing.

“Well George, it must be nice to know the messy sleeping runs in the family.” Y/N said, gesturing to his hair.

“What? What are you talking about?” George furrowed his brow, reaching up to fix his hair and making it worse.

“Do you think my ass looks good in leggings?”

“Are you joking? Of course it does, I wish my ass looked like yours.” Y/N replied to Ginny. She sighed, thinking about what Harry and Draco said to her earlier. “Do you think George…” Y/N drifted off, deciding she didn’t really want to ask anymore.

“Has a crush on you? Absolutely.”

“See, what the fuck? I don’t see it.”

“That’s because you’re absolutely terrible at picking up signals. Remember that last time we went to the club and a guy kept buying you drinks and then you were SURPRISED when he asked you to dance with him?”

“That’s different. I don’t like dancing with strangers!” “Sure, but you were surprised, Y/N.” Ginny gave Y/N a pointed look, to which Y/N sighed.

“Anyway, no one will ever known, because George doesn’t share his feelings with anyone ever.”

“Just try and pick up on his body language. You know, if he points his feet to you or whatever.” Ginny said, staring at her phone with a furrowed brow. “Thank God, Viktor is moving his shit out of my place as we speak. I might be out of here by tomorrow.” Ginny turned and grinned at Y/N.

“Hey,” George said, once again walking right into Y/N’s room and plopping down on her bed.

“Seriously, do we just not knock here anymore?”

“Well, we’ve seen each other naked, so honestly what’s the point?” George offered, to which Y/N rolled her eyes.

“I’m sorry, what? What did I miss?” Ginny said, tossing her phone onto the bed next to George.

“One time-”

“No, it’s not important, it wasn’t in a sexual way, it’s loft shit. We don’t talk about loft shit to outsiders.” Y/N said, not wanting to recount the story.

“Outsiders? I’m your best friend!”

“Well, you don’t live here.” George shrugged.

“I’m literally your sister!”

“I’m sorry, what does that have to do with the loft? You still don’t live here.” George smirked at her. She screamed and stormed out of Y/N’s room. “Anyway, want to go to the market with me? I need a few things and I’m quite tired of going on my own.” He perched himself up on his elbows to look at Y/N and something about the position he was in on her bed made her feel...some type of way.

“I-- I don't need anything, though.” Y/N said, now wanting to avoid George.

“Can you go and pick me up some tampons? I think you’re out.” Ginny poked her head back into the room, smirking at Y/N.

“You bitch.” Y/N mouthed at Ginny. “Yeah. Okay, I’ll go with.” Y/N announced, looking quickly over at George.

Ginny walked around the loft with just her bra and leggings on, as she would in her own apartment.

“Merlin, woman, put some clothes on.” Neville said, covering his eyes with one hand from the couch, covering a leaf on his plant with his other hand.

“Or don’t, I’m starting to appreciate the divine femme energy you’ve got going on.” Draco smirked, practically staring right at Ginny’s boobs.

“Malfoy, I swear to-”

“What, Potter? Don’t like me hitting on your girlfriend?”

“If you don’t shut up, I’ll kiss you.”

“You’ll wha-” before Draco could finish his question, Harry grabbed the back of Draco’s head and left a wet kissed on his lips.”You know, I could’ve gone my whole life without doing that.” Draco mumbled, rubbing his lips on his arm. Ginny stared at the three men in the apartment, rather confused.

“I’m confused,” Ginny said.

“Why?” Harry said, looking over at her.

“Are you guys actually gay?” Ginny whispered, as if it was offensive to ask.

“No, it’s just loft shit. You wouldn’t get it.” Harry shrugged.

“Yeah you wouldn’t get it.” Draco grinned at her. Ginny, in confusion, looked to Neville for an explanation.

“No offense Ginny, but you wouldn’t. It’s just kind of weird here.” Neville shrugged at her.

Y/N found herself staring at George’s feet the entire time they were shopping for groceries. He did point his feet at her a lot. But did that actually mean anything?

“Hey, I asked you a question! Where are you today?” George furrowed his brow, waving a hand in front of Y/N’s face.

“Sorry, what?” She kept glancing between George’s face and his feet. She moved around, and his feet would follow her as he continued to face her no matter where she moved.

“You’re acting weird. Anyway didn’t Ginny need something?”

“Oh yeah, I’ll just go get the tampons. I’ll find you later.” Y/N sighed in relief as she was able to quickly get away from George. Why was she so uncomfortable suddenly? She couldn’t decide how she would feel if George did have feelings for her. Her stomach had a weird feeling again. She hadn’t really ever felt this way. She was warm.

“Oh my god.” She said, staring at the tampon boxes. “Am I blushing?” She raised her hands to her face, feeling how warm her cheeks were. “Oh my god.” She whispered to herself. She grabbed a random box from in front of her and stormed off to where George was. She tossed the box angrily into the basket.

“Woah, sassy pants. What’s got your knickers in a twist?” George asked.

“Nothing.” She furrowed his brow at him. “They were just out of the brand I usually get.” She felt herself staring him down. He looked down at the basket to escape her pointed look.

“Super max?”

“I have wide set hips.”

“I believe they call those birthing hips.”

“Who is ‘they?’”

“I don’t know. It was a joke.”

“I know, I’m pointing out the flaw in your joke.”

“Ouch?”

“Can one of you make me a sandwich?” Ginny was staring at her phone, now wearing spandex shorts with her bra. It was like the boys had turned on the heat so she would strip (which they had, but she didn’t need to know that).

“On it.” Draco said, quickly stopping what he was doing (drooling over her legs) as he rushed off to the kitchen.

“No, you know I’m a better cook than you.” Harry rushed off after Draco. Ginny giggled to herself. She liked having men chasing after her, and thought this game was kind of fun. It was like a game of who needed to get laid more.

“You know, what you’re doing isn’t very nice, Gin.”

“Neville, when did anyone ever use the word ‘nice’ to describe me?”

“Flowers for sale! Two for one dollar!”

“Oh that’s so cute, here, do you want a flower?” George offered, not waiting for an answer from Y/N as she crossed her arms and started shaking her legs as she did when she was uncomfortable. She started to spiral when he handed her the roses. She stared at them, wondering what they meant.

“You didn’t need to do that.”

“I know, but I like to support small businesses.” He shrugged, his feet weren’t pointed towards hers anymore. Maybe he didn’t like her like that. Maybe she was overthinking this.

“Oh, good point, I guess.” He giggled and pointed his toe.

“Good POINTE, right?”

“I--what?”

“You’re a dancer, right? I’m on pointe.” He giggled, continuing to walk towards the apartment. Y/N felt uncomfortable again. She mentioned it once in passing that she did ballet as a kid. Her stomach hurt again. She felt tears start to well in her eyes.

“I-I...I’ve gotta go!” She said suddenly, running off in the opposite direction of their apartment. George furrowed his brow, confused at Y/N’s odd behavior.

“Ginny,” Y/N burst into the door, out of breath. She had clearly been running. “I’m confused.” She looked up and became more confused when she saw Ginny was getting pampered by Draco and Harry. “I...what did I miss?”

“There you are! I looked for you everywhere! You can’t just run off like that, what are you, insane?” George stormed into the apartment. He noticed dried tear trails on Y/N’s face and dropped what he was saying. He looked towards Ginny and the guys and furrowed his brow. “What the fuck, guys?”

“How did this happen?” Y/N asked, gesturing to Draco who seemed to be giving Ginny a facial as Harry rubbed her feet.

“I don’t really remember.” Harry sighed.

“Ginny, get up.” Y/N was ready to lecture her. Ginny sighed and stood up.

“Thanks mum and dad, you two really have to ruin everything.” She sassed. George and Y/N looked at each other with wide eyes. George smirked suddenly.

“Ginny, don’t I recall hearing that Viktor is moving out? Why don’t you give him a call and see if he’s done.” George grinned, trying to expedite the process of getting Ginny out of the loft. Y/N giggled, looking at George’s side profile. He looked back over and nodded his head back towards his room. Or maybe her room, she couldn’t tell, their rooms too close together.

She followed him into his bedroom. He sat down on the bed as she closed the door and stood right by it.

“You were a bit weird today.”

“The guys and Gin were messing with me and...I don’t know. I had my knickers in a twist.”

“Oh finally, a british phrase. There we go, America.” He smiled at her. She offered a half smile. “I’d like to think that I’m your best friend next to Ginny, so you don’t have to be so weird around me.” Y/N’s heart sank. Best friends, that’s what they were.

“Yeah, you’re right. I was just surprised when you mentioned the dance thing, I guess. I’m not used to anyone other than Ginny remembering things about me.”

“Yikes, you must have awfully bad taste in men, and friends.” George pointed his head towards the direction of their living room, laughing.

“Yeah, you could say that.” She rolled her eyes, laughing, too. “I’m glad I have you. I guess. Don’t let that get to your head.”

“I would never.” George smiled.

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xerxia31 · 4 years

Text

the Big Bang - an Everlark ficlet

Inspired by a story I read on CNN, that I couldn’t get out of my head. A warning - there are shades of dub-con here that may be disturbing to some readers. Rated M.

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Peeta Mellark was fit to be tied.

“I don’t know what you want me to say here, boy,” Haymitch drawled. “You knew where these characters were heading when you signed on.”

“Come on, Haymitch,” Peeta growled. He was standing in Haymitch Abernathy’s office, holding the week’s script while Haymitch, head writer and executive producer of the hit series The Arena, in which Peeta starred, stared at him from under a mop of greasy, overlong hair. Until now, Peeta had loved working on the show, loved the ensemble cast, loved the interesting storylines and well-written scripts.

But not today.

“They’ve been growing together slowly for three damned seasons and now, this week, bam!” Peeta clapped his hands for emphasis, “out of nowhere you have three fucking sex scenes in the script.” For three seasons the show had been teasing a relationship between the character Peeta played, macho FBI agent Barley St James, and his shy, brainy colleague, Allium Winterland. It was a fantastic story, well paced, the dialogue between them always fun. Nearly three years they’d been teasing the audience with it.

And now this week’s script turned everything on it’s head. “You’re just screwing with us.” There was no way the timing was coincidental. Because the actress who played Allium, the actress he’d be stripping down to his skivvies and dry-humping with on national television? She was none other than his now-ex-girlfriend.

Haymitch glanced away. Peeta thought it was in shame until Haymitch spoke.

“You might as well come in, Sweetheart,” Haymitch said, and Peeta spun to look behind him. “We were talking about you.”

Katniss Everdeen was standing just outside Haymitch’s open door. It was the first time Peeta had laid eyes on her in the flesh in two weeks. Two fucking weeks! He hadn’t seen her since the night she walked out of their house.

He knew where she’d gone though, the whole fucking world did. All of the gossip rags, and even the more reputable news sites, were reporting how her on again off again affair with one Gale Hawthorne, star of multiple movie franchises and People magazine’s sexiest man alive 2018, was definitely on again.

“Story of my life,” Katniss muttered as she walked the rest of the way through the door, schooling her expression into a dispassionate scowl as she did. Peeta had no idea why she went into acting, he could read her every emotion through the impassive mask. He always could. Today was no exception, her mask might be in place, but her eyes were flashing with fury, and something that looked suspiciously like hurt.

She didn’t acknowledge Peeta at all, striding into the room on silent feet and stopping a solid six feet away. Her arms were crossed protectively over her chest, but her copy of the script was clenched in one fist. No doubt she’d been planning on storming in here to blast Haymitch. But Peeta beat her to it.

“Save your breath, Sweetheart,” Haymitch said. “Like I told the boy, you knew this was coming.”

“It’s fine,” she said, shooting a cool look in Peeta’s direction. “I’m a professional.” Then she turned, and strutted back out the door, back straight, long, black braid swinging. He could only watch, jaw clenched.

“Brrr,” Haymitch said. “You two have got a lot of warming up to do before showtime.” He was right, of course, and Peeta knew it. The audience would be expecting a pair of lovebirds. Not two people who could barely look each other in the eye.

“Whatever,” Peeta grunted. She wanted to play it that way? He could be cold too.

o-o-o

The table read went smooth as silk. Katniss sat on one side of the room, chatting lightly with their costar Delly Cartwright between scenes, Peeta sat on the other, joking with Cressida Faulkner, who was directing that week’s episode. Most of the cast had no clue Peeta and Katniss had broken up, because most of them never knew they’d been an item at all. Haymitch had figured it out somehow, clearly, but none of the other cast noticed anything was amiss.

The following day’s rehearsal, not so much. Rehearsals were always in costume and filmed, so that the production team could splice in any good bits that came out of them. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence in TV, especially in a weekly series where time was tight. Peeta was used to it.

His first few scenes were fine, his lines came easily, he hit every mark. Then came the first scene he and Katniss shared that week, the one that led up to the first of the three fucking sex scenes.

She walked onto the set, and Peeta’s heart did a slow tumble in his chest. She was utterly beautiful, her hair loose and flowing, and wearing a dress patterned with autumn leaves. Soft orange, his favourite colour.

The colour of heartbreak.

They both stumbled through their lines, avoiding each other's eyes, interacting stiffing and unnaturally. Cressida halted the scene over and over again. It was a huge drag on the rest of the cast, slowing down everything.

Peeta’s only solace was that Katniss looked as miserable as he felt.

Peeta left as soon as rehearsal ended and headed for the gym. The call sheet had them both in an evening meeting at the studio, and he was going to need to work off some steam before he faced her again.

He should have asked, though, what the meeting was about. Because when he got back to the studio he found Katniss, dressed in leggings and a tiny little tank top, her face bare and so pretty, sitting cross-legged on a gym mat and chatting with a willowy brunette who gave off crunchy granola vibes. “Did I miss the memo about mandatory yoga?” he drawled.

Katniss scowled, but the brunette smiled beatifically. “Hello Mr. Mellark,” she said softly, her voice like windchimes, musical and irritating. “I’m Annie Cresta, your intimacy coordinator.”

Peeta was too confused to make a joke. “My what now?”

Annie laughed. “Intimacy coordinator,” she repeated. “It’s my job to choreograph simulated sex scenes for actors.”

“I think we know how sex works,” Peeta grumbled, and Katniss flushed, obvious without the stage makeup caked on her skin, then looked down at her lap. But Annie was undeterred.

“Of course,” she said gently. “But it’s about more than just choreography. It’s about helping you both to be comfortable, about navigating respect and consent and keeping the set safe.”

Peeta had heard about this, once before maybe, in the wake of the #metoo movement. But he’d never worked with one before. Katniss must have requested it. Figured she couldn’t even trust him to be a professional on the set. “With all due respect, Ms. Cresta,” Peeta said. “I don’t think we need this. We’ve both filmed scenes like this before.” Not with each other, but that was a minor point.

Katniss, to his surprise, looked inclined to agree. Annie just smiled.

“Not negotiable, I’m afraid,” she said. “All of Panem Entertainment’s productions must have an intimacy coordinator on set.” Peeta frowned, they were in the third season of filming, he’d never seen Annie before. As if reading his mind, she nodded. “I worked with Thresh Watts and Rue Lamonte last year.” That scene had been filmed on a closed set, Peeta had seen the finished product, but not any of the lead-up, and it hadn’t occurred to him at the time to ask about it.

Peeta sighed, and resigned himself to having a stranger teach him how to have fake sex with his real ex-girlfriend.

“Have a seat,” Annie said, indicating the mat beside Katniss. Peeta gritted his teeth, but he sat, his knee brushing hers.

She didn’t react.

“Now,” Annie said. “Communication is key.” Peeta snorted, and Katniss scowled at him. Communication. With the woman who had spoken a single word to him in the past 15 days. Sure. "The most important thing is that the people involved feel safe.”

“Why would we feel unsafe?” Peeta interrupted. There was a Cubs game on TV tonight, he’d rather be watching that.

Annie was unperturbed. “You're revealing a lot in a scene, you're going to places where you're vulnerable, and that requires an awful lot of trust," she said, looking pointedly between Peeta and Katniss. He wondered with some annoyance just how much Katniss had revealed to Annie about their situation before he’d walked in. “I have the script, and an outline of how your director wants it to look. But you two will need to talk with each other and with me and say, 'What are you comfortable with? What are you not comfortable with?'”

“I don’t want kissing,” Katniss blurted, then flushed again. “I mean,” she amended, “I’m not sure I can concentrate on both that and lines and choreography.” Peeta knew that was bullshit, in three seasons he could count on one hand the number of times Katniss had forgotten a line or missed a mark.

She just didn’t want to kiss him. And it stung.

Annie nodded. “We can work around that,” she said. “There will need to be some close up shots of you kissing, but they can be filmed separately from the simulated sex.”

Great, Peeta thought. Their characters had kissed a lot over the past three seasons, but that had been easy. They were both professionals, and kissing Katniss for the camera had been no big deal. Fun, even, in a comfortable, familiar way. Never sexual, there was always too much lipstick and stage makeup to worry about for there ever to be more than a peck. But steady, and comforting.

He doubted it’d be like that now. Or ever again.

“Let’s start with directorial expectations,” Annie began. “I’ve been given a timeline for the scenes and an outline of the specific angles that are expected. The most challenging part, from an intimacy perspective, is likely to be the third, which will be shot side angle with you, Peeta, on top of Katniss and no sheets to shield anything. We’ll have to block arms and leg placements carefully, and it’s likely you’ll both feel very vulnerable.”

Peeta didn’t see how that would be difficult, yet when Annie positioned him kneeling between Katniss’s thighs, a ridiculous little brocade cushion between their bodies, it was incredibly awkward. Katniss couldn’t hide in this position, with their faces only inches apart, and he couldn’t ignore, looking into her silver eyes, just how much he’d lost.

Two hours of rolling around on the floor, blocking arm and hand and leg movements sucked any sexy out of the scene. It felt robotic and contrived and awkward as hell. Katniss, for her part, looked fucking miserable. “Well,” Annie said finally. “I’m sensing some discomfort, so I think we should close for the evening.”

Peeta rolled onto his back on the mat and stared at the ceiling. Why was this so fucking hard? He was an actor, for god’s sake. He’d filmed sex scenes before, and none of them felt this shitty.

“I think we could do with a couple more rehearsals,” Annie said. “I’ll ask Cressida to schedule some.” Just fucking great, Peeta thought.

Annie floated away like an ethereal being. Katniss hung back, maybe to talk with him, maybe just to avoid Annie. But he wasn’t in the mood. He’d been subjected to her stony silences for two days, his heart hurt and his pride was dented and he just needed to get out and lick his wounds.

“Peeta,” Katniss said softly. Peeta held up his hand.

“Not now,” was all he said.

She scowled. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

Peeta almost leapt to his feet, his exhaustion morphing into rage. “Look, you haven’t said a damned word to me in weeks, you haven’t even come home for your things, and now you want to talk?” Peeta spat, cringing internally at his use of the word home to describe the house where they’d been living together until two weeks ago.

Katniss looked puzzled, under all of that anger. “Jo said you threw everything away.” Johanna Mason was a mutual… well... not quite friend. Peeta had often accompanied her to awards shows, in the early days of her career when she was concerned that if it got out that she preferred women, it would stop her from getting leading lady roles. She didn’t need to worry about that anymore, she was a bonafide A-lister these days, and her relationship with an adorably bubbly talk show host was in every magazine. But Jo generally had her own unknowable agenda and sometimes she liked to stir up shit just for fun.

“You think I’d do that?” he asked, voice deceptively soft. He might have thought about it, fantasized about it really, when he found out who she was staying with. But he had more dignity than that, and she damned well should know it.

In fact, everything was exactly as she’d left it when she stomped out of their home, out of his life, 15 days ago. Her toothbrush was beside the bathroom sink, her favourite sweater on her favourite chair. A shabby silver-framed picture of her parents nestled between their awards. All of the homey pieces of her life, all of her simple treasures, abandoned.

Katniss shrugged, like she didn’t care, like his worth, his honour, the life they’d built together, was inconsequential, and it just pissed Peeta off more. He hated her ice princess routine, hated how fucking above it all she was. She’d always been good at freezing him out, at making him chase her, but no more. He didn’t have to put up with her stone cold shit.

“Get you crap or I will toss it,” he seethed, walking away. She didn’t call after him, but then she never did.

o-o-o

Haymitch dropped two of the three sex scenes from the script. Peeta should have been relieved, he was relieved. But he also felt sick about it. Like he was destroying his career.

The tension on set was obvious and palpable now, and he knew it looked like he was the cause. Katniss, always quiet, remained quiet. But Peeta couldn’t fake it, once the cameras stopped. Cold didn’t come naturally to him, and too often he veered into mean and snappish.

He had to figure out a way to get past this, to get past his anger, his hurt, and work with Katniss again. But he had no idea how.

Peeta leaned back in his favourite club chair, in the cozy den at the back of his house, and allowed himself to relive that day, the day it had all come crashing down. Until then, he’d thought he had it all, had the world in the palm of his hand. A great job, a comfortable home and the most radiant woman in the world in his bed every night.

Katniss Everdeen had been a child star on a hugely popular sitcom. He knew her only by name when she showed up to screen test with him. He’d been expecting a cute little moppet. Instead, she was a silver-eyed stunner. And right off the bat, he was a goner.

They clicked, in almost every way. Working together was a joy, chatting together between takes a delight. He loved her intelligence and wry sense of humour. They moved from friends to more at breakneck speed, but it never felt too fast.

She was insistent that they keep a lid on their relationship, even when they eventually moved in together. He understood it, her previous relationship, also with a costar, had been documented to death, she’d been hounded and harassed by the paparazzi constantly, even now they followed her everywhere. He didn’t love keeping them a secret, but he loved Katniss, so he acquiesced.

And that day, the day it all fell apart? It was supposed to be a good day, a great day. The first day of their two-week mid-season filming break. They had grand plans to do nothing but each other. Peeta had run a few errands, then stopped by his agent’s office to sign a couple of endorsement contracts.

That’s when the shit started.

“I figured you’d want to hear it from me first,” Finnick Odair, the best agent in the business, said with a grimace. He handed Peeta a tablet. Loaded up was the National Enquirer, his mother’s smirking face beside a promotional shot of Peeta and Katniss, and the headline, ‘It’s Real’. His fucking mother had struck again. It wasn’t the first time she’d sold Peeta out to the tabloids.

“Shit,” Peeta murmured. Not because the headline wasn’t true, it was. But Katniss guarded her privacy with clenched fists, and for two years, they’d barely let anyone in on their secret. Finn knew, but he was very discreet and like he’d said when Peeta had first hired him, he couldn’t protect Peeta unless he knew all of his secrets.

“She’s going to be pissed, huh?” Finn said sympathetically.

He didn’t know the half of it.

Peeta was in a foul temper and all he wanted was his quiet house and a couple of fingers of scotch before he had to deal with Katniss, who was sure to be furious. But no, he wouldn’t even get that. Because Rye was standing at his front door when he arrived home. Peeta groaned, and parked in front of the house, instead of pulling into the garage, where the door he generally entered by was. They’d chosen this place because the gated community was supposed to offer them more privacy and security. He was going to have to talk with the guard at the gate again. Just because Rye looked like his brother didn’t mean Peeta wanted him here.

“Peet,” Rye said genially as Peeta unlocked the seldom-used front door.

“What do you want, Rye?” Peeta really had no time for his brother’s bullshit, not that day of all days, and he hadn’t bothered hiding his annoyance.

“I can’t just pop by to see my little brother?” Rye never came by unless he wanted something. Often it was money. Rye seldom worked, preferring to live off his association with Peeta There were a lot of people in LA who would wine and dine the families of celebrities, looking for an in. Rye had brought him a few abominable scripts over the years from people who’d promised him a big finders fee if he could get Peeta to sign on.

“Cut to the chase, Rye,” Peeta said impatiently. There was a small liquor cabinet in the living room closest to the front door. Not that they ever lived in this room. It was only for show, the place where outsiders were held, away from the parts of the house where they actually did their living.

“Fine,” Rye laughed. “Tell me it isn’t true, little brother,” he said. There was no point pretending Peeta didn’t know what he was talking about. Rye was a terrible gossip hound. Peeta shook his head. “Thank god,” Rye said. “You can do so much better than that. She’s not very big, and definitely not hot.”

Peeta sighed. Rye’s taste in women only included girls who fawned all over him. Katniss would never make that list.

“Where did Mom come up with that idea anyway?” Rye asked, eyeing the single glass Peeta poured with interest. Peeta was not going to offer him a drink. He wasn’t going to do anything that suggested Rye was welcome to stay. “It’s pretty fucking crazy, even for her.”

“I don’t know,” Peeta grumbled. He knew exactly where. She must have listened in on one of Peeta’s calls with his father. His dad was his best friend, Peeta just couldn’t keep secrets from him. But the old man wasn’t always careful when he talked to Peeta.

“Katniss Everdeen. As fucking if. You have much better taste than that,” Rye laughed. “Remember that chick you were with a couple of years ago? The one who was in Playboy?”

“Cashmere Solomon,” Peeta muttered half under his breath. He’s gone out with her twice, and she’d been a nightmare, only interested in what he could do for her celebrity.

“She was hot,” Rye nodded. “I hooked up with her, after.” That was more than Peeta needed to know.

“Look,” Peeta started, an attempt to get rid of Rye, to get back to his plans for a few quiet minutes before Katniss got home and he’d have to have another, very different conversation on this topic.

“Mom’s a mental case,” Rye interrupted. “Like you’d ever stoop low enough to fuck that Everdeen chick. Stuck up little bitch like that? You’ve got more pride.”

“Are we done?” Peeta was bone weary, and not at all in the mood to listen to one of his brother’s diatribes. “I’ve got a lot of stuff to do tonight.”

“Right, right,” Rye said. Peeta didn’t give a damn whether his brother believed him or not. He started to guide Rye back to the entryway. “I don’t know how Hawthorne puts up with her, “ Rye said. “Rumour has it she’s completely frigid.”

Peeta laughed, he couldn’t help it. Katniss was the furthest thing in the world from frigid, she was a live wire in bed, far and away the best sex of his life. And she had broken up with Gale Hawthorne some four years earlier, but the media still wrote about them as if they were just taking a break.

“Listen,” Rye said, though Peeta was already shepherding him towards the door. “I know this girl, Glimmer her name is. Tits for miles! She’s working on a pilot.” Working on a pilot was LA code for unemployed. “She’s so hot,” Rye continued, oblivious to Peeta’s irritation, “spend a little time with her, I’ll get my pap friend to follow you. That’ll make the Enquirer story go away. Kill any hint of association with that little piece of work.”

“Bye, Rye, Peeta said, pushing his brother through the door.

“Call me,” Rye said, and Peeta slammed the door in his face, flipping the bolt. Idiot. He exhaled slowly, then turned.

Katniss was standing behind him. Shit. How much of Rye’s crap had she heard?

“How could you let him talk about me that way,” she asked, her voice low and dangerous.

Peeta cringed. Evidently most of it. “What was I supposed to say? You don’t want him to know we’re together.”

“We have to be together for you to defend me?” Katniss asked, incredulous. “Women are only worth defending if you’re fucking them?”

Peeta rolled his eyes. “Don’t give me that bullshit,” he said. “You know I’m not like that.”

“Do I?” Katniss was pacing, little mincing steps that would fit on a pie plate. “Sure as hell didn’t sound like it.”

“What was I supposed to say?” Peeta was yelling. He flung his arms wide, expensive scotch sloshed over the edge of his glass, splashed his watch. Just great.

“How about ‘Katniss isn’t a stuck up little bitch’ for starters?”

“Jesus, Katniss, why do you even care? You know he’s an asshole.”

“He said awful things about me, in my own home, and you just stood there and nodded, like you agreed,” Katniss snapped. “That was a total dick move.”

“Well excuse-fucking-me,” Peeta said, “but it’s not even your house.” She lived there, but the lease was in his name. Her official address was an empty condo in Van Nuys, so that people wouldn’t figure out they were shacked up together. He hated the cloak and dagger bullshit, but she’d insisted.

Katniss froze, face twisted in disgust. “You’re right,” she said quietly. “It’s not.”

Before Peeta even had a chance to respond, the door was slamming behind her.

Peeta knew, even before she’d gotten to her car, that he was wrong. But he was angry, angry with his mother, angry with his brother, and pissed as hell that Katniss insisted on hiding, like he was some dirty secret instead of the man she’d been dating for two years.

She didn’t come home that evening. Peeta wasn’t completely surprised. It wasn’t the first time she’d frozen him out. He’d give her the night, then apologize in the morning.

But when morning came, his phone had blown up with texts. TMZ was running a spread of pictures, grainy and obviously through a long lens. Katniss, standing on a balcony, and not alone. With her was Gale-fucking-Hawthorne, her ex. She was locked in his embrace wearing only a robe, while he was in boxers. The gossip sites were having a field day, former lovers reunited.

Peeta, still in bed, dialed his phone. She answered on the second ring, voice hoarse. “Are you with Gale?” Peeta asked with no preamble.

There was the slightest of pauses. “Yes,” Katniss said.

“You couldn’t fucking wait to go rushing back to his bed?” Peeta yelled. “Or maybe you never really left?”

The line died in his hand. It was the last time they’d spoken, until now.

o-o-o

Katniss made no further attempt to talk to Peeta, outside of what they said on the soundstage. She’d doubled down on the ice princess routine, speaking to him in cold, overly formal tones when the cameras weren’t rolling.

Working with Annie Cresta hadn’t gotten any better either, but at least they’d managed to memorise a routine—hand here, thigh there, twist this way, arch like that. Annie insisted it would look a lot more natural than it felt. Peeta wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t care. He just wanted the thing done.

The scene was set for late afternoon, after the rest of principal photography was done for the episode and the lion’s share of cast and crew had left. “Saving the best for last,” Cressida chirped, but no one really believed that.

Katniss had a rider in her contract specifying no nudity, Peeta knew that. He hadn’t bothered with one himself, he didn’t care who saw him, but Katniss had always been uncomfortable baring everything. In other scenes, the production sometimes used a body double for Katniss. But this scene, the scene, would be her and him, on a bed, doing choreographed dry humping. It had to be her, there wasn’t any other choice.

Haymitch wasn’t on set, something Peeta suspected was Katniss’s doing, but he appreciated it. The crew was at a bare minimum, to make it easier for the actors, but it was still a lot of people. Cressida was directing, busily setting up the scene. Two female grips he’d never met before were behind the stationary cameras, two of his favourite camera guys—Castor and Pollox—had the handhelds. Two more grips had the boom mics, a gaffer adjusted the lights, and a set designer, Octavia, was fussing over the bedding, rumpling it in an artistic way that Peeta knew from rehearsal would last about twelve seconds before they destroyed it. Annie, strangely, was nowhere to be seen. He’d thought that, as their intimacy coordinator, she’d be there to coach when they actually filmed. Apparently not.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Cressida called out, affecting a carefree tone. Peeta knew it was an act, an attempt to get all of them to relax. The antagonism and animosity between the two leads wasn’t exactly a secret, not anymore, and the mood on the small soundstage was tense. No one was looking forward to this.

Katniss had seen him naked a thousand times, had touched and stroked and tasted every inch of his body. Still, it was strange, even on a closed set, to be standing in front of her wearing nothing but a sock tied to his dick. She was clutching the edges of her pink silk robe so tightly her knuckles were white, and looking everywhere but at him.

Cinna approached and helped Katniss out of her robe, careful not to disrupt the cascade of windblown curls Peeta knew had likely taken an hour and several cans of product to achieve. Katniss’s hair was naturally pin straight, yet they were always curling it in the show, and she hated it. So focussed was Peeta on her hair that he didn’t notice what she was wearing until Cinna stepped away, leaving Katniss standing beside the bed in a pair of pasties and an adhesive pad that covered her pubic hair and not much else. Peeta couldn’t help but stare. It was far less than he was expecting, Annie had told him Katniss would be wearing a pair of flesh coloured panties and a little tube top over her boobs. “The sides of her underwear showed in the test shots,” Castor muttered in his ear. “Haymitch insisted on that instead.”

For half a minute, Peeta felt really bad for Katniss, knowing her discomfort, knowing what it was costing her to stand under the lights and in front of so many people wearing little more than three bandaids. But then she sighed, and barked, “can we just get this over with?” and any sympathy Peeta felt for her evaporated like spring snow.

The scene opened with them both on the bed. They’d practiced the routine, both on floor mats and on a set bed. But in rehearsal, they’d been clothed, pillows between them to minimise contact.

No longer.

Now, they were essentially naked, skin pressed to skin, staring wide-eyed at each other. She was so soft under him, fit him so perfectly. Her breath—sharp, nervous little pants—caressed his jaw, his throat. Her hands, small but so much stronger than they looked, clutched at this back.

His dick twitched and hardened, he couldn’t fucking help it. They’d fucked a thousand times over the previous two years, he’d always been insanely attracted to her. His dick didn’t know that this time it wasn’t real. He clenched his teeth and kept going. There was no way, positioned as they were, to prevent her from feeling it.

Katniss smirked at him, just a fleeting little hint of amusement, but coupled with his embarrassment at getting turned on when the ice fucking queen clearly felt nothing it was too much. Rage flooded his veins like venom. He sneered down at Katniss, uncaring if the handycam caught his expression. Then he deliberately rocked against her, rubbing his hard cock against her core, only a little strip of fabric and a glorified sock between them.

Her breath caught, a choked little sound.

“Like that, princess?” he spat, lowering his mouth to her ear. “You like knowing that you can still get me hot?”

She moaned softly. It just made him angrier. Was she acting, or actually responding? Was she thinking about Gale while he was grinding against her? Had she always been thinking about him?

The few lines he was supposed to say flew out of his head. “Does your boyfriend get you hot like this?” he groaned instead, anger and lust combining. “Do you moan for him like you did for me?” Her hands, which had been moving through the choreography much more fluidly than in rehearsal suddenly froze. “Does he fill you up as good as I did?”

“Peeta,” Katniss whispered, a hint of warning in her tone. But he was too mad. Mad and heartsick and wildly turned on, it was a potent brew. He couldn’t stop. He ground harder against her, his chest rasping against her breasts, bare but for a pair of stickers. He nipped at her earlobe with sharp teeth, and her gasp was loud over his harsh breaths.

“Do you melt for him, ice princess?” She said nothing, but he didn’t care. He angled his hips and thrust hard, the way he knew she liked. He rocked over and over again, forgetting about the others in the room, lost in Katniss, however fake it might be.

“Do you want to give them a show,” he growled against her throat. “Take off the guard? One last fuck, for old times sake?”

“Stop,” she said, so faintly it was barely a breath. “Please.” Peeta pulled back. Beneath him, Katniss’s eyes were screwed tightly shut, tears leaking from the corners. The anger rushed away, leaving him horrified and utterly ashamed.

He rolled away and climbed off the bed. “Need a break,” he grunted. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Katniss had curled onto her side, facing away, naked and vulnerable. The need to comfort her battled with the sick feeling in his gut over how cruel he’d been. How completely unlike himself.

Cressida called out to him, but he didn’t want to hear whatever she was going to say. Couldn’t stay another minute on that set.

He pushed past Castor who was staring open-mouthed, the camera on his shoulder still blinking as it ran, and stomped to his dressing room. There, he sank into a chair, the leather sticking to his bare ass. He pulled the modesty bag off his now-deflated cock and dropped his head into his hands.

How had it gotten to this?

How had he gotten to the point where he was tormenting the woman he loved more than life with fake sex on their job site? Bullying her to tears in front of their crew.

He was disgusted with himself. That wasn’t who he was.

He needed to go to Katniss and apologise, for more than just the scene.

Fifteen minutes later, he’d calmed down and thrown on sweats. Katniss’s dressing room door was closed, but he knew she wasn’t in there. He walked past the small set and the little office Annie had used, but he knew she wouldn’t be there either.

Down the hall, past craft services stood the door to the electrical room. It was never locked. Peeta pushed inside. Past all of the clutter and detritus of broken light stands and boxes of cables was another door, narrow and unmarked. A steep set of metal stairs lay beyond it, and at the top a door he had to duck to walk through.

Then he was standing on the roof, a soft Burbank breeze ruffling his hair.

It wasn’t anything special, this part of the roof, gravel-topped and housing the building’s HVAC system. But it was their spot, a place no one else ever went. A place they could find some measure of solitude in the midst of a busy studio. No one ever disturbed them up here.

Katniss was sitting on the low ledge that bisected the roof, wrapped in a robe, her pink silk clad back to him. He knew she must have heard his approach, the gravel beneath him crunched with every step. But she didn’t move, didn’t react as he straddled the cement to lower himself beside her.

She didn’t turn towards him, but she didn’t need to. Her profile said everything: smudged makeup, red nose, puffy eyes. The breeze caught loose tendrils of her hair, blowing them around her face but she was still and silent save for her uneven breaths. An island in a tempest. Her eyes remained fixed on the horizon, past the endless parking lots and low studio buildings to where the sun was sinking low, bathing the sky in soft orange. Her silence wasn’t icy tonight. Pain radiated from every line, every curve.

“I’m sorry,” Peeta started. Katniss nodded, her posture otherwise unchanged. “I was a complete dick in there, and you didn’t deserve any of that. It was inexcusable.” He took a deep breath, steeling himself. “I don’t want to go on like this. Making out for the cameras, then ignoring each other when they’re off. I was hoping that if I stopped being so, you know, wounded, we could take a shot at being friends?” It would certainly make their jobs a lot easier.

“I’ve never slept with Gale,” she said softly, and Peeta startled. That wasn’t even possible. She’d run right back to him, was living with him again.

As if reading his mind, Katniss continued. “He’s been a good friend to me, a brother in some ways. But we’ve never had a physical relationship.”

“Bullshit,” Peeta sputtered, conciliatory tone gone. “You were with him for years.”

Katniss glanced at him then, a half smirk twisting her lips. “You were with Johanna for years too,” she said.

“You know that wasn’t real. And Gale isn’t gay.”

Katniss shrugged, and turned back to the horizon.

Peeta continued to watch her. He knew all of her expressions, her every tell. She wasn’t lying.

“Why,” he started, then stopped. That wasn’t the question he really needed an answer to. “You let me think you were together.”

“Maybe I wanted to hurt you,” she whispered. “Like you hurt me.”

Mission accomplished, he thought. He’d been in fucking agony since he saw the TMZ pictures, and the ones that followed; Katniss and Gale riding in his convertible, Katniss and Gale leaving a trendy LA cafe, Katniss and Gale sipping wine on the balcony of his oceanfront estate. It had been a form of masochism, adding her name to his news alerts and reading the day's gossip about her blossoming relationship with Gale Hawthorne.

Could it really have all been fake?

Katniss and Gale had been on the same sitcom as children, had played cousins. So when, years later, they moved in together, of course everyone assumed they were together. They’d certainly never done anything to contradict it.

“You never mentioned that before,” Peeta said quietly. Not that Gale’s name had come up often in their time together, but they’d talked about past relationships, and she’d never said that Gale had been nothing more than a friend. She’d really never said anything about her years with Gale, and that had always made Peeta insecure, wondering if she’d still harboured feelings for him. If she kept their relationship a secret not from the world, but from Gale Hawthorne. Katniss shrugged.

“I didn’t think it would matter. You’re in the business, you know how often dating is just for show.”

He did. But he’d been upfront with Katniss about Jo, he’d never let her think there was anything there. That she hadn’t given him the same respect, hadn’t trusted him, was gutting.

“He kissed me, once,” Katniss said, and Peeta’s stomach clenched in inappropriate jealousy. “I was seventeen. It was the summer after we’d both finished filming Seam Street, but before he got his big break on that superhero movie. Back when we thought we might still be normal.” She was smiling sadly, lost in the moment. “We both gagged,” she continued, and Peeta’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. Katniss laughed softly, but it wasn’t at Peeta. It was at whatever she was remembering. “All of those childhood friends to lovers tropes, it definitely wasn’t like that for me and Gale. Kissing him was…” Katniss trailed off, shuddering. “I love Gale, he��s mine, I’m his. But not like that.

“But it didn’t matter. Once the media decided we were together, they invented stories. Every time we went anywhere together, they took pictures and manipulated them to fit whatever story they’d decided to write about us that week.” Katniss sighed, and rubbed her eyes. “We couldn’t have a life, outside of each other. Anytime either of us was seen with another person, the tabloids went crazy. I got my own place, tried to put some distance there. But it didn’t stop.

“And after he started dating Claudia, it all got worse,” she said. “The media, and fans who decided that he and I belonged together, they couldn’t let it go. They hounded her incessantly, called her a homewrecker and things far worse. Trolled her on social media, harassed her family, and anything either of us tried to get them to back off only made things worse. When she finally broke things off with him, he blamed me, at least a bit.” She paused, and sniffled. “It’s why we’ve barely talked over the past few years. First because it bothered Claudia, and then because Gale was so pissed off. It came close to destroying our friendship.”

Peeta sat in stunned silence as realisation washed over him. “That’s why you wanted to keep us a secret,” he said. “You were protecting me.”

“Private,” she said. “Not secret. And that’s what you and I do, protect each other. Or did,” she added softly.

But he hadn’t protected her. Not on the set, and not from his brother’s vitriol.

“I’m sorry,” Peeta said. “I shouldn’t have let Rye talk shit about you. And I shouldn’t have been all defensive when you rightly called me on it.”

She nodded again, but didn’t turn towards him. And he didn’t know how to bridge the gulf. He’d been wrong, on so many levels. But she hadn’t trusted him, and still didn’t. She could have eased so many of his insecurities just by being honest. But she hadn’t.

He wanted to fix things. He wanted to be with her again, this time with more openness and honesty. To build a better relationship, one they both deserved. He wasn’t sure if it was possible with so much hurt between them. But he wanted to try. He just needed to get Katniss on the same page, and he knew from experience that wasn’t likely to be easy.

“We should go back,” Peeta said what felt like an hour later. The sun was almost gone, and though the air still held the perpetual California heat, Katniss was shivering in the breeze. “I’m done being a wounded prick, I promise.”

Katniss turned to him, finally. She still looked so sad, with her red eyes and ruined makeup. His heart clenched. “Cressida called shooting for the day,” she said. “Didn’t think either of us was in a good place to continue.” Haymitch would doubtless be pissed, any disruption in the schedule was tens of thousands of dollars wasted. Peeta sighed, but he knew it was the right call.

“Probably for the best,” Peeta said. “We’re a mess.”

Katniss laughed, just slightly, and Peeta grinned at her. When he extended his hand to help her up, she took it, and it felt so good to feel her fingers entwined with his again, not for show but in actual friendship.

They walked back to the dressing rooms together. “Do you maybe want to get dinner together?” Peeta asked, and he knew he sounded small and uncertain. But to his surprise, Katniss nodded.

“I’d like that,” she said.

They walked out to the lot thirty minutes later, and Peeta led her to his car. She was wearing jeans and a little tank top, her hair pulled back in a no-fuss braid and a pair of sunglasses shielding eyes that still bore traces of the evening’s emotions. She was in every way Katniss, the woman he loved. But he could feel her holding back, feel the stiffness and uncertainty in the way she looked at him, spoke to him. Not intentional, simply reflexive, like she was trying to keep her heart safe. From him. The wall between them loomed large. It was going to take a Herculean effort to break it down.

There was a restaurant, Sae’s, not too far from the house they’d shared. It catered to people like them. The front was nothing so much as a shabby little diner, but in the back were private, windowless rooms where they could have a meal without prying eyes.

Peeta ordered pasta and Katniss got her favourite goat cheese and apple panini. But the way she pushed the food around on her plate spoke to how distressed she still was. Katniss typically ate with gusto, like she was afraid she’d never see food again.

He left her be, keeping conversation light, trying to ease her back into being comfortable with him. Joking with her, the way he always had. She smiled, but it felt hollow. If anything, she seemed to get more sad as the meal wore on. Peeta’s spirits flagged.

He paid the bill, and they headed out the back door. There, he stopped, and pulled Katniss to stand in front of him.

“Talk to me,” Peeta said, voice gruff with guilt.

“About what?” She wasn’t being flippant, if anything, she sounded defeated.

“Katniss,” he sighed. She looked up at him, eyes unfathomable, dark pools in the lamplight. He could tell she was trying to psych herself up to talk. So he leaned against the restaurant wall and waited.

“I’m sorry, okay,” she said finally, and it wasn’t what he was expecting. “I’m sorry that keeping us a secret hurt you. It was never my intention to hurt you.”

Peeta opened his mouth, to say he understood better now, but she pushed on.

“And it didn’t mean I loved you any less.”

“Loved?” Her use of past tense gutted him. “Not anymore?”

In the deep shadows of the single street light, he could see her face crumple. She wrapped her arms around her body, as if shielding herself from another blow. “Does it matter?” Her words were choked, he could hear she was fighting tears again. “I know what you think of me.”

“Katniss,” he said, the word regret-soaked.

“Frigid little ice princess,” she parroted, but there was no anger. Only pain.

“I didn’t mean it,” Peeta said. “I know that’s not you.” She played at being cold sometimes. But underneath, she was a flame, burning bright.

“Everyone thinks that about me. They always have.”

“I don’t,” Peeta said, and he let the pleading come through in his voice, let her hear his own pain. “I know you’re not cold. You’re the girl on fire.” Katniss’s lips twitched at the old nickname, one she’d gotten as a teenager in an action movie. But her heartbroken expression didn’t change. “I was angry, and wounded, and I lashed out. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” she said, then she was wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. Peeta pulled her in close and buried his face in her hair. It was the first time he’d felt whole in more than two weeks, like the broken piece of his soul had returned.

Her little body shook against him, he knew she was crying. “Shhh,” he said, stroking her back. “Shhh. It’s going to be okay.” It was. He’d make sure of it.

“Just missed you so much,” she muttered. His heart soared.

“I love you,” he whispered. “Please come home.”

She didn’t say anything. But he felt her nod against his chest. And it was enough.

He took her back to his place, to their place. They were both exhausted, emotions raw, and had an early morning call, to redo the evening’s ruined scene. But she climbed into bed beside him, and he held her all night.

They were quiet the next morning, tentative and uncertain around each other, but they were together, and Peeta was committed to making things better, for both of them. He’d be patient. He’d communicate better. He’d lost the love of his life once, he wouldn’t let it happen again.

They climbed back into his car, since hers was at the studio, but as soon as the garage door opened Peeta saw Rye there, waving his phone. Beside him, Katniss tensed, and shrank down into her seat. He could almost smell her pain. Just fucking great. The moron had to show up now, when they had barely started patching things together.

“I’ve been calling you all morning,” Rye said as soon as Peeta stepped out of the car. It was just past eight, Rye didn’t typically get up before noon. Peeta suspected he hadn’t yet been to bed.

“Go home, Rye,” Peeta said. “This isn’t the time.”

“They’re saying this is you and that Everdeen chick,” Rye insisted, shaking his phone in Peeta’s face. Sure enough, on the screen was a dark and blurry shot of him, holding Katniss in his arms. Her face wasn’t visible, but her long black braid and sweet little ass were perfectly recognisable. Fuck. He thought they’d be safe at Sae’s. But he’d been wrong. Again. “I already told the Hollywood Reporter it was fake, that you wouldn’t slum with the likes of that—”

“Shut up!” Peeta roared, and for once, Rye stopped talking. “Katniss is the woman I love, and I won’t listen to you disparage her anymore,” Peeta said. “Now get the fuck out of here and stop fucking talking to the media about me.” Peeta was seething. He was going to make sure that security guard was fired. Maybe his boss too. And his boss’s boss.

Rye backed away, hands held up in supplication. “Sure, yeah,” he said quickly. “I’ll just get out of your hair. We’ll talk more later, yeah?”

Peeta didn’t dignify that with an answer. He spun on his heel, to head back to the car. But Katniss was there already, standing just behind him. She must have heard everything they’d said, and worse, Rye would have seen her there. He flinched, but she just smiled at him, then walked straight into his arms.

“Thank you,” she said.

Fuck. She didn’t need to thank him for defending her, it’s what any decent person would do. “I should have said that last time,” he admitted, tightening his hold on her.

“You said it this time,” she said. Then she stretched up onto her toes, and kissed him.

Relief and disbelief and so much love flooded Peeta. He cupped her ass in his hands and hoisted her into his arms, his lips never leaving hers.

He knew Rye was watching. Knew that some of their neighbours could see them too. “We should go back to the garage,” he whispered between kisses that were growing too hot for the street. “People are watching.”

“Let them,” she gasped. “I don't want to hide how I feel about you. Not anymore.”

He laughed against her lips, and kissed her more.

o-o-o

She was sitting in her favourite chair, a mug of camomile tea forgotten beside her, when Peeta got home. He glanced at the television glowing on the wall and groaned. “Access Hollywood? Really?” Katniss, his Katniss, was watching the creme de la creme of shitty tabloid TV.

Their relationship had been dissected endlessly by the gossip shows in the four months since they’d been outed, first by his attention-seeking mother, then by a slightly risqué public display of affection in front of their house that had been captured on cellphone video by multiple sources. Peeta understood so much better now why Katniss had tried so hard to avoid unwanted exposure. He was sick to death of the coverage.

But they were handling it together.

“Shhh,” she said, grinning. “They’re discussing whether we really did the deed while shooting Allium and Barley’s big scene.” Peeta glanced back at the television. The banner read 15 Times 'Love' Scenes On Screen Were Real.

“Oh my god,” Peeta groaned, and sank into the chair beside Katniss’s, covering his face with his hands.

The day after their disastrous first attempt at filming, they’d gone back to the set and found Haymitch waiting for them. The crusty old bastard had actually apologised for putting them in such a shitty position, and told them he’d take the scene out, make it a fade to black.

“No,” Katniss had said, silver eyes brighter than they’d been all week. “The script needs the scene. Our fans need it. And we’re ready this time.”

The second attempt had been so much better. It was still awkward, the choreography still felt strange. One of her pasties came unstuck and ended up caught in his chest hair. Twice they had to cut filming when Katniss started giggling.

Peeta had been loath to watch it, once it’d been edited. Afraid to reopen the barely healing wounds. But the end result, just as Annie promised, looked real. The cameras caught their very real joy at being reunited, their very real love for one another. And those things made the very fake sex look like something more.

They’d filmed several more sex scenes over the course of finishing the season, each easier than the last. Communication, it turned out, did make the scenes less awkward. And it helped with their real relationship too.

But the first scene, the one that Peeta still cringed thinking about, that episode had aired just days ago.

The television sound cut off abruptly and Katniss burst into laughter. Peeta peeked out from between his fingers. Frozen on the big screen was a shot of Peeta’s ass in all of its hi-def glory, and Mario Lopez was pointing to a spot just between his thighs where apparently a hint of nutsack had been caught by the camera.

Well that brought unwanted exposure to a whole new level.

Peeta groaned. “I’m putting a nudity rider in my next contract,” he mumbled.

#everlark #bang #xerxia writes #this one is a little out there #but what can I say?#and I make no apologies for naming him Barley

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mintmatcha · 3 years

Text

10 Months - Chapter 4

9 months, 1 day

Matsuhana

CW- Angst, mentions of death

Chapter 1-3 on AO3

A/N: i think all the pieces are set now....

“Are you all caught up with My Hero?”

Matsukawa catches the bottle cap against the corner of his counter and, with the heel of his palm, slams down against it, hard enough to pop the cap off. It flies halfway across the room, clattering against the floor before sliding halfway under the fridge. As he walks by, sipping off the foam of his beer, he kicks it deeper into the unknown with the rest of the bottle caps. It would be a nice surprise for the next tenant: a private little collection of bottle caps stashed under every appliance.

"Nah, I'm a couple chapters behind," Mattsun replies as he leaves the kitchen, grabbing the remote along the way. "I'm surprised you're all caught up. Aren't you, I dunno, busy torturing athletes?"

"I have to be!" Iwaizumi groans, propping his feet up against the coffee table to bury himself further into the couch. He's still in his work clothes, the polo shirt struggling to stretch over his thick biceps as he buries his chopstick into the takeaway for another bite. "Bokuto spoils the new chapter for me every week!"

"That guy’s too excited for his own good." Mattsun takes a long swig and sucks air through his teeth, trying to savor the less than appealing flavor of IPA. It’s much too bitter, heavy enough that it sits in his stomach- but it does the job. "Sure you don't want a drink?"

"No, thanks. I have to be at the gym at 5am." Iwaizumi can barely rip his eyes off the screen long enough to pick out the mushrooms in his meal, placing them on a side plate, just like he does every week. As he flops down beside him, Mattsun unpauses the program and music fills the room.

Mattsun isn’t sure how this became a tradition, Wednesday night anime binging, but it was something he really looked forward to. It was a good break from the usual stress of the work week. They could just sit in silence for a couple hours, watch the anime they had recorded through the week, and relax; a rare treat for both of them.

The day sticks to him. It clogs his throat and makes every breath labored, every swallow thick. Usually, he can just ignore it, leave it in the corner of his mind to be lost to time.

But the coffin was so small.

Youth doesn't protect you. It gives you a fake shield of longevity, a shallow promise of tomorrow.

That little girl, face painted with a thick layer of makeup to make her cheeks seem rosy with live, probably had plans for the future, just like Makki does-

He tips the bottle back hard and takes a long drink. Iwa’s eyes meet his over the brown bottle before returning to the screen.

By the second episode and third beer, he’s feeling better. His brain can focus on the fuzzy numbness that pulses through his gums instead of how the parents today were his age, except they looked so much older, aged by tragedy -

Fuck.

He gets up mid-show to grab another. Iwaizumi doesn't look up, even when another bottle cap flies across the room.

The faux marble countertop is marred with multiple jagged chunks missing from the edge, cut all the way down to the wood. He wasn’t getting his security deposit back, but that was fine.

The alcohol must be hitting him already, Mattsun tells himself. That's the only reason his eyes kept wandering to where the hem of Iwa's shirt had ridden up, exposing just a whisper of skin and the middle of a happy trail. Sure, he had always known Iwaizumi to be an attractive guy, but the years of physical training certainly showed. Iwa wasn't his type, but he could definitely appreciate-

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

Fuck. Mattsun shakes his head like a dog, trying to knock away whatever sort of nonsense was possessing him. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

Mattsun traces the half circle mark that’s formed on his palm. "I saw Makki the other day," he admits, "We talked for a while."

"Wow, really?" Iwa has forgotten all about the show. He’s moved up to the edge of his sheet, looking at his friend with disbelief. "Didn't think that would ever happen."

"Yeah, me neither," Mattsun drapes himself over the counter, knocking over the empty plastic containers, "He looks like shit."

"Did he tell you?"

Iwa doesn't need to clarify.

"Yeah."

Iwa nods solemnly, nibbling on the end of his chopstick as he thinks about what to say. It’s no secret that Iwa and Makki had stayed friends since graduation, but it was definitely a subject that wasn’t discussed.

A splinter of wood is pressing against Mattsun’s stomach, piercing through his shirt, but he doesn’t stand up. Instead, he digs more of his weight against it. The sharpness of the pain detracts him from the guilt.

“It’s sad.” It’s the only thing Mattsun can think of. “Tragedy.”

Iwa and Mattsun's friendship was usually based on being quiet. They were always surrounded by louder personalities, people who demanded attention, so they usually just enjoyed shutting up with each other. Mattsun can't remember talking about anything of merit with Iwa. Ever.

And that's the way they liked it.

"I'm glad you hung out. I think he's been lonely since-" Iwa stops himself.

"Since what?"

"It's not my place to tell you, just…." he says, "It's been a pretty bad year for Maks. I bet he's glad you made up."

"Let's not go that far. We just talked."

He doesn't mention the planning. Something about it feels sacred between them.

A question nips at the back of his mind. He shouldn’t address it, but-

"Hey, did Makki ever talk to you about me? About why we fought?" Mattsun, pretending to watch the television, rests his head in his hands. His palms are slick with sweat, nervous about the answer.

"No," he can see from the corner of his eye that Iwa is still watching him and yet a wave of relief crashes over him, "Whenever it came up he told me it was 'Mattsun's story to tell'."

Good. The secrets are still safe.

"Maybe I'll tell it at his funeral," Mattsun raises his empty bottle in a fake toast, "Make a whole big speech about why the man of the hour hates my guts."

"Matsukawa! That's- that's not funny. What's wrong with you?" Iwa sneers, "I don't want to think about that."

He shrugs. "Me neither."

The early morning is still painted black, the sun still tucked away behind the city’s skyline. The only light that peers into the room is from under the door, a low glow that creeps all the way from the kitchen. If he listens, Mattsun can almost make out the voices of Makki’s parents, keeping their voices low so as to not wake the rest of the house. From his place on the floor, nestled in a lumpy, half stuffed futon, Mattsun stares at the ceiling. The glow in the dark stars had long lost their color, but he could still make out their borders. If he really focused, he could ignore that strangling tightness in his chest-

night

"Issei." Makki's voice cuts through the silence, groggy, "You awake?"

“Yeah.” he sighs, "Can't sleep."

"That futon sucks," Makki shuffles in his sheets before peering over the edge of his bed. Strange planes of his face are illuminated but the low light, and yet that tightness in his chest only gets worse. Sleepovers weren’t uncommon- in fact, they did them almost every night before a game, so they could make it to school together- but lately they were changing. More awkward pauses, more knees brushing against each other under the table as they did homework together, more quick turns away when the other was changing.

"Sucks major dick." Mattsun agrees.

Maybe all friendships go through this.

"Just sleep up here. We've slept closer on-"

Mattsun doesn’t let him finish justifying himself. He gets up, toting his pillow under his arm, and stands at the edge of the bed where Makki lays. The eagerness of his actions are so embarrassing, but that doesn’t slow him. Under the covers, Makki’s form was just a long, misshapen lump.

This is what friends do.

"Move over."

Friends sleep next to each other sometimes.

"This is my side."

"I'm not crawling over you- move over."

"Or what?” Makki teases under his breath, quiet enough not to be heard in the hall.

"Or I'm going to sleep on top of you."

"You wouldn't dare." He says it like an invite, with a smile.

Friends joke around like this.

Mattsun lifts his knee onto the raised part of the blanket, accidentally (accidentally?) separating Makki's legs. Time seems to stretch as he lowers himself down onto his elbows, giving Makki every chance to protest, but the blonde just watches with wide eyes and parted lips. He uses a melon flavored chapstick during the day. Does the flavor linger?

Chest against chest, so close yet parted by layers of fabric. Makki lets out a groan when the weight finally fully drops. It's an innocent sound, just a protest, but suddenly Mattsun is thankful for the space between them because he hides the way his body shutters.

This must be what a stroke feels like. Pressure builds behind his face, like his brain can't process everything happening right now.

Friends do this. Friends rough house, friends sleep.

“Would you still be my friend if I do something stupid?" Makki interrupts his thoughts with a hand. It hovers inches away from Mattsun's cheek, cupping the air. His fingers are trembling and Mattsun thinks, despite his confident grin, Makki might be nervous.

“How stupid?” Mattsun’s voice cracks, despite how low he keeps it. His face would fit perfectly in the palm of his hand if he were to just gather the courage to close the gap. He tries to repeat to himself, friends, friends, friends, but there’s a louder voice in the base of his head that asks for more, more, more.

“Like, actually stupid.”

Mattsun closes his eyes with a deep breath and headbutts Makki’s hand. The trajectory is off, his chin barely scrapes by his fingertips, but the touch is cool against his blushing skin, so cool that it burns into his memory. “I’ll always be your friend, even if you’re stupid.”

His left leg is halfway off of the bed, dangling there, but he doesn’t dare move. Makki’s trying his best to shift under his weight, pressing up onto his other elbow in sudden, jerking movements. Nothing happens for a moment and Mattsun worries he’s misread the situation, that the electricity in the air was all in his mind.

Then, so gently that he thinks it’s his imagination, breath tickles his nose right before lips meet his. Neither of them move at first, but waiting for a protest-

Friends don’t do this.

Makki doesn’t taste like melon, he tastes like sleep. The drag of his stubble against his chin is rough, so harsh compared to the plush softness of his lips, but he wants to feel more of it- feel it against his entire face, his neck, his chest-.

Excitement takes over. As he tries to deepen the kiss, teeth clash against teeth. Makki flops back down, holding his mouth.

“Ow, what the fuck-”

“Sorry- I’ve never-”

Makki runs his tongue over his front teeth, checking for any chips. “You suck at this.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“It’s fine,” His hand is pressed against the small of Mattsun’s back. His fingers are thick, yet long, the span of his hand taking up nearly half of his back. “We can practice.”

“I’m fine.” His voice is flat, far too blunt.

He doesn’t turn to face Mitsuri as he gathers himself, heartbeat still racing right under the skin, but he arches away from her touch. The bare skin of her thigh rubs against the back of his and he has to swallow back his sneer.

“You sure? I-”

“‘Kawa, sweetie.” a small hand, curled into a ball, is pressed into the center of his back when he jolts awake. “You’re talking in your sleep- are you okay?”

“Positive.”

“Oh,” she swallows. “I love you.” Dejection clings to her voice as she withdrawals back to her own side.

He doesn’t respond.

“I said I love you.” she repeats.

“Love you too.” he says, out of obligation more than anything.

What kind of monster wouldn't tell his fiance that he loved her?

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suituuup · 4 years

Note

When Beca Mitchell is diagnosed with MS, she agonises over what it will mean for her career and more importantly, her relationship. But if there’s one thing Chloe Beale knows for a fact, it’s that nothing, including MS, will get in the way of their love.

for better or worse

Rating: T

ao3 link

Multiple Sclerosis.

Beca blinks at the doctor’s words as she sits in his office, the news shaking her to the core. The last few weeks have been a whirlwind of medical tests ever since Beca went to her GP after dealing for months with blurred vision, vertigo, pains in her hands, and general exhaustion.

She didn’t think much of it at first. Work has been crazy since the start of the year and Beca’s been too excited about Chloe’s pregnancy to focus on her state, but Chloe has been worried it might be more serious and insisted she got some tests done.

Beca’s heard of MS before, but isn’t sure of what it means or if there’s a treatment for it. “What-- um… How is that going to affect my life, exactly?”

She suddenly wishes she’d said yes when Chloe offered to take the afternoon off to come with her to this appointment, because she really needs a hand to hold right now. Beca assured her it would be fine, that it was probably nothing.

But now… she’s fucking terrified.

It doesn’t help that her doctor doesn’t have time to answer all those questions barreling into her brain at full speed, instead sending her home with a few pamphlets and the number of a specialist.

Beca’s walk home is a complete blur, her feet carrying her on auto-pilot back to their building complex. She spends the rest of the afternoon online, researching whatever she can on the disease. Her panic only grows the more she learns about it, and when Chloe steps through the door an hour later, Beca’s still sat on the couch with her computer propped against her thighs, pamphlets and handwritten notes sprawled around her as she stares blankly at her screen.

Two words have etched their ways into her skull.

No cure.

“Babe?” Chloe asks as she takes off her coat, hanging it by the door. “What did the doctor say? I got worried when I didn’t get a text after I got out of surgery.”

Beca snaps out of her daze, her gaze finding her wife’s as she rounds the corner to their living room. Chloe’s eyes drop to the documents laying next to Beca, and she takes it between her fingers, her silence deafening as she reads the title.

“Oh my god,” she eventually croaks out, her trembling hand blindly reaching out for the back of the couch as she lowers herself on the surface. “You should have called me.”

Beca shrugs. “I know you were in the middle of surgery,” she says quietly, puffing out a breath as her eyes roll towards the ceiling to keep from crying. “So this really fucking sucks.”

She knows a dozen of questions if not more are hindering Chloe’s ability to think right now, much like they did to her back at the doctor’s office, and Beca reaches across the pamphlets to cover Chloe’s hand.

“I have an appointment with a specialist next week, she’ll answer any questions we have.”

Chloe visibly swallows, blinking away the moisture in her eyes. “Right, okay.” A few tears slide down her cheeks despite her efforts to get rid of them, and she hastily wipes them off, swearing under her breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” Beca requests softly, squeezing her hand. “I know it’s a lot.”

Chloe shuffles closer, draping her legs over Beca’s and snuggling into her side. “I love you.”

Closing her eyes, Beca basks into the comfort only her wife’s affection can provide. She knows whatever’s ahead of her, they’ll figure out how to live with it. “I love you, too.”

The next few weeks and months don’t bring much change to Beca’s daily life. She’s still tired and achy, but it doesn’t prevent her from going to work and getting the job done on her many projects. She can tell Chloe is trying her best to be supportive without crossing to the overbearing side of things.

Her first relapse shows up six months after her diagnosis. It starts with blurry vision towards the end of her work day and dizziness throughout the evening. She retreats to bed around seven and sleeps for twelve hours, waking up in more pain than she’s ever felt before. Her limbs feel exceptionally heavy and tingly all over, and it takes Beca a few minutes to realize the bedding underneath her is damp, and so are her pajamas bottoms.

Humiliation washes over her in a cold sweat when it dawns on her that she peed herself during the night. She can hear Chloe in the shower and is determined for her wife not to find out about that shameful episode, attempting to get up to change the sheets. Her body is not agreeing with her though, and the simple act of sitting up is too much for her weakened muscles that she soon gives up altogether.

The reality of her disease crashes into her all at once, the emotional turmoil she’s been trying to push down over the last few months spiraling in her chest like a tiny tornado. She bursts into tears right there, ugly sobs wrecking her from the inside out as she curls up into a fetal position.

“Baby?” She feels a hand on her arm and burrows deeper in the covers. “It’s okay, let it out.”

“I can’t get up,” she eventually manages, opening her eyes to find Chloe staring at her in concern. “I can’t get up.”

“Oh, babe…” Chloe strokes her hair gently and leans in to kiss her forehead. “I’ll call your work, okay? Tell them you’re not feeling well. You stay in bed, I’ll be right back.”

It takes Chloe a few minutes to do so, and she comes back with a glass of water which she sets on Beca’s bedside table.

“Do you want to eat anything?”

Beca shakes her head faintly. “Chlo…” Her chest tightens with shame. “I need to get up.”

“No, you don’t. Work can wait, alright? You need to take care of yourself first.”

Beca shakes her head once more. Even finding words is exhausting. It feels as though her brain is all fogged up. “I wet the bed.”

Realization and brief shock flash in Chloe’s eyes, but she quickly recovers. “Okay, that’s okay. I’ll help you up and change the sheets, alright?”

Beca whimpers; Chloe is her wife, not her caretaker, she shouldn’t have to do this. But It’s not like they have much of a choice right now.

“Come on, I’ll help you into the shower.”

With Chloe’s help, Beca manages to slowly shuffle towards the bathroom. She sits down on the toilet, more tears leaking out of her eyes as she takes in her current state.

“Hey,” Chloe whispers, kneeling beside her and cupping her cheek tenderly. “Nothing to be ashamed about. It’s not your fault.”

Beca remains silent, keeping her eyes fastened on the bathroom tile.

“I’ll go grab a chair so you can sit in the shower, okay?”

“K,” Beca mutters.

Chloe returns less than a minute later and helps Beca undress, then helps her into the shower. Beca is thankfully strong enough to wash herself so Chloe doesn’t have to do it for her, though it feels like a work-out of its own.

“Chlo?” She calls out ten minutes later. “I’m ready.”

“Coming!”

Chloe’s obviously seen Beca naked more times than Beca can count, but not like this; frail and weak and unable to fucking take care of herself. She wraps a large towel around Beca’s body and guides her back to the toilet.

“I took today off, too,” Chloe says as she rubs Beca’s skin dry.

Beca wants to argue with that, but she can’t; she doesn’t know how worse it’s going to get throughout the day and doesn’t feel like she can deal with it on her own.

“Thanks,” she croaks out, sniffling. “‘M’sorry I’m like this.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Chloe murmurs, glancing up. “You hear me?”

Beca puffs out a breath and eventually nods. Chloe helps her put on a clean pair of pajamas, long sleeve shirt and a hoodie, and Beca settles down on the couch with a blanket, preferring to be in the living room.

She weaves in and out of sleep for the next few hours, waking up just after lunch claiming she’s not hungry. She does accept the herbal tea Chloe makes her, and Chloe settles at the head of the couch once she’s done drinking it, Beca propping her head onto her lap.

“Maybe you should think about telling your boss?”

Beca has avoided doing so since finding out, because she didn’t see the point of making a bigger deal out of it than it was up until today.

“I know, I just…” She sighs. “I’m afraid the label might give me shitty projects if I tell them. What I’m doing right now, it’s been my dream for so long, Chlo. And I finally have it and now--” She inhales sharply, forcing the lump in her throat back down. “I’m terrified it might crumble. Not only my job, but our marriage whenever it becomes too hard for you and--”

“Baby,” Chloe interrupts softly, stroking Beca’s forehead with the pad of her thumb. “That is not going to happen. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You don’t know that,” Beca croaks out. As much as she wants to believe Chloe, neither of them has a crystal ball to predict the future. “We don’t know how bad it might get. I could lose my sight, or not be able to walk anymore or-- we have a baby on the way. I just, I can’t be a burden to you.”

“We’ll learn to live with it,” Chloe murmurs, sliding her free hand in Beca’s. “This is all so new, we need to find our footing. You just started your treatment, and the relapses aren’t going to last forever. We’ll find professional help for whenever you do have them, and losing your sight or ability to walk is not going to make me love you any less, Bec.”

Beca swallows. “Promise me you’ll put yourself first if it becomes too much, okay? Promise me.”

If the disease were to ruin her life, Beca doesnt want it to ruin Chloe’s or their child’s as well.

“Okay, I promise,” Chloe whispers, blinking back tears. “I love you so much.”

Beca closes her eyes, letting those words wash over her. “I love you, too.” She twists her head to press her lips to the gentle swell of Chloe’s belly. “And you.”

She’s bedridden for four days, and requires the use of crutches for a week after that as her balance is really off. There’s no more avoiding possible in telling her boss about her condition, but he proves to be incredibly understanding and reassuring about Beca’s future with the label.

Over the next few months, she works with a personal coach to strengthen her balance, and finds a neurologist who specializes in MS. It takes a little while, but they eventually manage to find a treatment for which the side effects aren’t too heavy and which considerably slows down the progress of the disease.

Chloe is incredibly supportive, not that Beca is at all surprised, and somehow, learning to live with MS brings them closer and strengthens their bond.

She relapses a few months after Micah’s birth, and Chloe’s parents move in for the couple weeks it lasts as Beca can’t do much to help out. Micah’s presence keeps her from falling in a depressive state over that lapse of time where getting out of bed is difficult, as her entire right side is paralized. He often naps with her, or hangs out on she and Chloe’s bed during tummy time, his smiles and gurgles keeping Beca afloat.

“Hi,” Chloe whispers as she rounds the corner, hearts flashing from her eyes as she takes in the scene before her. Micah is fast asleep sprawled across Beca’s torso, his fingers curled around loose fabric from her top.

“Hey,” Beca attempts a smile, though it comes out crooked as she can’t control the right side of her mouth. “How was work?”

Her speech is slurred, too, but Chloe manages to understand her most of the time.

Still clad in her scrubs, Chloe gently climbs into bed, settling on her side beside her family. She kisses Beca’s cheek. “It was alright. I missed you guys, though.”

“Missed you, too.”

“My parents just went out to get groceries,” Chloe lets her know. “How’s my sexy pirate doing?”

Due to vision loss in her right eye, Beca wears an eye-patch to lessen skewed vision. She should regain her sight once she’s in remission.

“Feeling very unsexy,” she replies with a soft chuckle. “Same old. My leg’s been tingling though so that’s progress.”

“You’ll be walking again soon,” Chloe states, smiling softly. “And the three of us can have a fun day at the park.”

“Mhm, that sounds perfect.” She sighs as Chloe’s head finds her shoulder, and twists her head to kiss her hair.

As Micah grows up, he learns that sometimes his Mama has “bad days”, which means she can’t get out of bed much. One of his things whenever he’s home during those times is to move his toys to Mama’s room and play quietly on the floor so she’s not lonely. He also naps next to her and reads stories to keep her entertained, and sometimes wears an eye patch when she has to, so he can be a pirate himself.

He and Chloe are Beca’s sunshine, always there to battle the clouds with smiles, laughter and hugs, whenever they get too dark.

#bechloe

80 notes · View notes

atlafan · 4 years

Text

Take it Slow - Part Eighty-Four

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: TW: mention of past abuse. Slight angst, little bit of smut, and a ton of fluff.

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

You had the perfect last morning at the beach. None of you wanted to leave, but it had to be done. You all help to pack up the cars.

“Before we all leave, I just wanna say thanks again for everything. This was the perfect weekend.” You say to everyone. Everyone says how much a good time they had too.

“I’ll see yeh at home, I’m gonna drop Niall off and go pick up Buster.” Harry says to you.

“Alright, baby.” You kiss him and climb into Sarah’s car.

Rachel was driving this time, so Mariah takes the passenger seat. You didn’t mind at all. You were exhausted and ended up falling asleep for most of the drive. Luckily it didn’t take much time at all to get back to the city since a lot of the traffic was going the other way.

You hug the girls goodbye and get all your shit upstairs. You weren’t sure if you wanted to wait to shower with Harry or not…but you felt gross from being at the beach so you opt to take a quick one. You throw on a pair of athletic shorts and a t-shirt and sit on the sofa. You go through a ton of the pictures that were taken over the weekend and post a good chunk of them. You hear the pitter patter of feet and you stand up immediately.

“Buster! Come to mumma!”

He runs over to you and you get on your knees so you can properly hug your fluffy boy.

“Jesus, we need to take him for a hair cut soon, huh?”

“I’ll say.” Harry chuckles. “Isaac said he was an angel, as always.”

“Oh good.” You look back at Buster. “You were a good boy while mummy and daddy were away, hm?” He licks your cheek. “Oh, thank you, so sweet.” You stand up and hug Harry. He wraps his arms around you. “Can we just chill for the rest of the day. M’craving some alone time with my boys.”

“That sounds amazing. Let me just grab a shower. I can see you already took one.”

“I wanted to wait for you, but I felt so gross.”

“It’s alright.” He smiles and goes down the hall.

“Come on Buster, let’s get cozy while we wait for daddy.”

Harry comes out a few minutes later in just a pair of boxers, finally feeling free to do so. He sits down next to you and puts his feet up on the ottoman.

“Sometimes I forget how much I actually hate wearin’ clothes.”

“Look at you, you tanned so well babe.” He looks down at himself.

“Guess I did, huh. You did too. Your burn faded really fast.” He pokes your cheek. “And you’re freckly, so cute.”

“Oh stop it.” You giggle.

He grabs the remote and turns on Netflix to pick up where you left off on Glee.

“I’m sorry, I just need to take a moment to document this. Are you voluntarily watching Glee?”

“I need to know if they win sectionals or not.” He says without looking at you and you burst out laughing. “This show is fuckin’ stupid and unrealistic, I can’t believe they got away with half the shit they’re doin’.”

“Oh honey, and we’re not even done with the first season yet. You’ve got a long way to go.”

“Well I’m strapped in so let’s go.” He hits play and yanks you closer to him.

“Wanna spoon?”

“Duh.”

You laugh and lay on your side in front of him. He lays behind you, keeping a hand on your hip and a leg between yours.

“We have some frozen meals in the freezer we can have for dinner later, I do not have the energy to shop and cook.” You tell him.

“Me neither.” He holds you a little closer as the episode really gets going.

“Woah, woah, woah, Finn’s not goin’!”

“He just found out everyone knew Puck is the father, and that Quinn’s been lying to him. You’d be pissed too.”

“Yeah, but now they don’t have enough people to go! What the fuck?”

A few more minutes pass and you hear Harry suck his teeth.

“Are you kiddin’ me?! That other school stole their routine, and now they have to do a bunch of unrehearsed numbers? This is bullocks.”

“Harry.” You turn to look at him. “Imagine watching this week to week. At least we can watch the next episode right away. This one ends on a cliff hanger.”

“Jesus, no wonder this used to work you up in high school, my fuckin’ heart is racin’.”

You and Harry easily watch four episodes of Glee because he just needed to know what happened next. But you both needed to take a break, and Buster needed to be taken out. You take him for a walk while Harry makes a couple of the frozen meals. You both sit on the sofa as you eat.

“You wanna watch more, don’t you?”

“No.” He scoffs. “Okay, why can’t we just finish the first season? I need to know if they win regionals or not. And if Finn and Rachel are gonna happen, this is very important.”

You nod and turn the TV back to Glee so you can continue watching together. It was a lot of fun to share something you loved so much Harry. Your phone goes off about halfway through the episode and you pause it to answer. It was Seth.

“Hey.” You say brightly.

“Hey! How was your weekend away?”

“Oh it was amazing!”

“What did Harry get you?”

“He’s flying my Nannie in for the Jewish New Year next month.” You say smiling.

“Wow! That’s awesome…so now that you’re back…”

“When are you free?” You giggle.

“Saturday?”

“That’s soon! I’ll have to check with Isaac, and Harry.”

“I know it’s short notice, but you’re making me wait over here.”

“Very true…alright. Let me get back to you tomorrow, I should have an answer. I think we were thinking of going to that adult arcade.”

“Oh that place is fun! Yeah, I’d be up for that.”

“Cool, I’ll text you later.

“Alright, see ya.” You hang up and look at Harry.

“Do we have plans Saturday night?”

“Guess we do now.” He huffs. “Sorry, can we go back to what’s important please?” He presses play so you can continue watching the show. You can’t help but laugh. You love him more and more every day.

You and Harry enjoy some nice, soft cuddles, opting in to turn in early for bed. You’re both just laying there, naked and tangled up in each other. His hand lightly dances over your skin, tracing your tan lines.

“It really was the perfect weekend, huh?” You say to him.

“Mhm. I’m so glad you had a good birthday.”

“I had the best birthday, thanks to you.”

“Hey, your friends helped too.”

“Yeah…but you just being you also made it great.”

He leans in and kisses you softly. You give him an Eskimo kiss and giggle. He squishes his nose to yours again and he giggles too.

“Wanna make love to yeh.” He whispers against your lips.

You hum your response and he brings your leg up over his hip. He slowly inserts into your warmth. You moan when you feel him slowly stretch you out. He slowly moves so he’s on his back and you’re on top of him. You dip your head down to kiss him as you move your hips in slow circles on him.

“God, you’re so wet.” He groans and rolls his head back.

His hands slide up your body and cup your breasts. He was being so light and airy with you, it was nice. You roll your hips down on him, and grind back and forth. You put your hands over his and he squeezes your breasts. He thrusts up into you and you fall on him so you’re chest to chest. His hands slide to your back, holding you even tighter to him.

“Want you on top.” You say into his ear.

“Want me on top, baby?”

“Yeah.” You whine.

You both roll over and he smiles at you, caressing your cheek as he rocks in and out of you. He takes one of your hands in his and intertwines your fingers. He rests it next to your head. His other hand snakes between the two of you so he can rub your swollen clit. His thumb rubs slow, precise circles just where you need it. You moan out his name and stick your tongue out so he’ll kiss you. His forehead was sweaty against yours.

“Feel so good baby, I don’t think you’ve ever been this wet before.”

“Just feels so good, you’re so good Harry.”

You start clenching around him, he can tell you’re close. He rubs your clit faster as he thrusts deeper inside you. Your back arches as you release, and Harry’s isn’t too far behind. He kisses you deeply as he fills you up, and you swallow his moans. He pulls out of you and looks down, his eyes growing side.

“What is it?”

“Okay, don’t freak out…”

“Freak out about wh-“ You look down and see him covered in your period blood.

“Guess that’s why you felt so wet.” He smirks. “Did you know you were-“

“Please, I’m going to be sick.”

“Babe, it’s okay, I-“

“Harry, please.” Tears well up in your eyes. “I’m extremely embarrassed, and you’re covered, and oh my god.” You get off the bed and see splotches of blood. Your eyes grow wide. “Oh no.” You start breathing faster.

Your mind fills with flashes of that night, the remnants of your sheets afterwards.

“Oh no, what? Y/N?”

You screw your eyes shut, and see more, feel more. You feel a hand on your back and without thinking or even realizing where you are…

“Don’t touch me!” Smack. Your vision is hazy and you feel yourself lose your balance.

When you come to, you’re dressed in your comfiest pj’s and laying on the bed. It was stripped, you could feel your foam topper. You look over and see Harry sitting up against the headboard. He had an ice-pack pressed to his cheek and had his phone in his other hand, just scrolling.

“Harry?” He looks at you with concern, but a half smile. He sets his phone down on the night table.

“Hey baby…feelin’ alright?”

“What…happened?” You sit up and remember you got your period. You reach into your underwear and feel a bad and sigh.

“I, uh, hope I put it in there right…I read the directions on the box.”

“You put this on me?”

“Sort of had, to you wouldn’t wake up and I didn’t want you bleedin’ out. Sheets are in the wash. I would’ve put the others on, but I wanted you to lay down. You scared me…you wouldn’t wake up. I didn’t know what to do.”

“Why do you have an ice pack on your cheek?” He peels it away and you gasp when you see how red his cheek is, a bruise forming.

“You…well, I think you blacked out and you slapped me.”

“I slapped you?!” Tears prick at your eyes.

“Yeah.” He looks down, and back at you. “But it’s okay!” He grabs one of your hands to try to soothe you. “I know you didn’t do it on purpose. Your eyes glazed over, it was like you were somewhere else, like you thought I was someone else.”

“Harry, I am so sorry. You have to know I would never, I mean, I know I get in people’s faces, but I am not a violent person, I, I, I-“ Your breathing starts to quicken again but he cups your cheek.

“Please, stay with me. You’re okay.” He kisses your hand. “I’m not mad, I was a little shocked, but it’s okay, really.” He gives you a reassuring smile.

“But your poor cheek…”

“It’ll be fine.” He sighs and puts the ice-pack back on. “Can you try to tell me what happened? Although I have an idea.”

“I think when I looked down at the sheets and saw all the blood…” You take a deep breath and you feel tears burn your cheeks. “I haven’t had a flash in a really long time, months…” You look at him and frown. “I’m so sorry, Harry. I feel terrible. I…”

“You were just defending yourself. I put my hand on your back to try to calm you down when I saw you breathin’ heavy, but you were too far gone.”

“What if someone thinks I’m beating on you or something?! You can’t go to work like that.”

“Baby, no one’s gonna think that. I’m keepin’ the ice on it for good measure. I’ll put some makeup on it tomorrow, it’ll be fine.”

The washer goes off and Harry gets up to go flip the load.

“Can I get you anything? Some water? Water’s probably a good idea.” You nod and he goes out to take care of things.

He comes back in with a glass of water and some other sheets. Buster comes trotting in. You pet him while you sip on your water, and Harry makes up the bed.

“All done.” He smiles at you. “Let’s get some sleep, yeah?”

“How are you so calm about all this?”

“Not my first time bein’ slapped by a woman.” He rubs the back of his neck.

“Oh, Harry.” You can’t help but chuckle.

“There we go, gotcha to laugh.” He wraps his arms around you. “It’s okay. You’re okay, we’re okay. You didn’t purposefully try to hurt me.”

“Never.” You kiss him gently on the lips and sigh. “M’just gonna do my thing in the bathroom and then I’ll come to bed.”

You go in and sit down on the toilet. Harry actually did do a decent job of positioning the pad in your underwear. He was a saint, an absolute saint. You clean yourself up and stand to wash your face. You can’t help but cry again. For months you had been fine, more than fine. Now you can’t even see your own blood without freaking out? You take a deep breath and go back out to the bedroom.

“C’mere, angel. Let me holdja.”

You give him a small smile and get into bed. You go right into his arms and lay your head on his chest. He has one hand on your head, playing with your hair, and the other on your arm, rubbing up and down. He knew you were anything but calm.

“Listen, if you don’t wanna go to work tomorrow, you could always come with me…spend the day with Buster…”

“Harry, I’ll be just fine to go to work.”

“But if you’re still…you know…”

“I think after some sleep, I’ll be calmer. I’m more concerned about you.”

“I told you, I’ll just put some makeup on.”

You slept, but you felt like a zombie when your alarm went off. Suddenly going to work with Harry didn’t seem like such a bad idea, but you knew you couldn’t do that. You get up and shower. You blow dry your hair and throw a work-appropriate dress on. You put some makeup on and go to take Buster out. Back to your old routine. When you come back you go to the kitchen to make breakfast.

“Y/N?” You hear Harry call for your and go into the bedroom. You see the light on in the bathroom and go in there.

“What is it, doll?”

“Well, first, how are you feelin’?” He turns to look at you and you grimace when you see the bruise on his cheek. “It looks worse, I promise. It doesn’t hurt.”

“I’m okay…” He nods. You look to see he’s holding your liquid foundation. “Need some help?”

“A little…”

You sit up on the counter and he stands between his legs.

“I’ll have to put it all over so it blends more naturally. And then I’ll have to put some bronzer on. Your skin is so much darker than mine.”

“Do whatever you need.”

You can’t help but bite your inner cheek to keep from crying. How could you do this to him?

“I promise I’m alright, honey. Please don’t be upset.”

You nod and dab some of the makeup on him. Once you get it the way you like he looks in the mirror and gives you an approving look.

“Can’t even see it, well done.”

“You wear makeup well, Harry.”

“I do, don’t I?” He puckers his lips and looks away, trying to make a funny modeling face, making you laugh. You hop off the counter. He wraps his arms around you. “You call me if you feel weird at all today, alright?”

“Alright.”

“Bring Buster with yeh. You need him more than I do today.”

“Thanks Harry.”

It was one of those mornings where you and Niall weren’t able to carpool. You get up to your office and everyone is happy to see you. You were thankful it was Tuesday. You needed Dr. Mara today. When you get to your office you take a deep breath. You see Niall walk in with your coffee. Your bottom lip quivers and his smile fades immediately. He closes the door behind him.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, Niall!” You go over to him and wrap your arms around his neck. You sob into his neck.

“Hey! What’s wrong? What happened? Did Harry do somethin’?” You mumble no into his neck. “Y/N, please, calm down, just tell me what happened.” He rubs your back and you step away from him. Your eye makeup was all smeared.

He walks over to your desk to grab you some tissues.

“Thanks.” You blot your eyes. You shouldn’t have even bothered with mascara today. “We were having such a nice night last night. God, he was being so soft with me, it was so sweet.” Niall nods. “But when he pulled out…” You look down. “We realized I had…well…Aunt Flow…”

“Right.”

“I got up, and I looked at the sheets. It had gotten everywhere…and….God, Niall, it was bad it was so bad. I was completely brought back to that night, and I blacked out…I slapped Harry.” You voice cracks.

“What do you mean you slapped him?” He asks softly.

“I slapped him across the cheek and when he tried to calm me down. It was like I didn’t know it was him. I think I passed out too. When I woke up, I was all cleaned up and dressed, laying on the bed. And there he was, cool as a cucumber, with an ice-pack pressed to his cheek.”

“Is he alright?”

“Yeah, he was perfectly fine. He didn’t even wince when I put some makeup on him earlier…I felt terrible. I don’t even really remember doing it.”

“You’re seein’ Dr. Mara tonight?”

“Mhm.”

He nods at you and takes you in for another hug. Buster yips at the two of you.

“Shit, I think he needs to pee again.”

“Let me take him. You go to the bathroom and clean up.” He smiles.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Morning, Harry.” Isaac smiles. “No Buster today?”

“No I sent him along with his mum.” Isaac hands him his coffee. “Thanks.” He squints at him. “What?”

“Your skin just looks…different today.”

“Oh, I’ve put some makeup on, I broke out from wearin’ so much sunscreen over the weekend. Way too much oil in that shit.” He takes a careful sip of the coffee. “So, uh, Seth called Y/N yesterday. We were thinkin’ of gettin’ together Saturday night. What do yeh think of that? Know it’s last minute.”

“I think I’m free actually!”

“Oh, great!”

“I’m really excited, thanks again for being such a good sport.”

Mariah walks in next and her and Isaac run to each other to hug.

“Neither of you should be allowed to leave at the same time again.” He kisses her on the cheek.

Harry and Mariah have back to back clients all day. Everyone was scrambling to get their senior photos in. And there were engagement shoots after engagement shoot. Harry couldn’t wait for it to be his fucking turn.

You text him letting him know you’re bringing Buster to therapy with you. Harry decides to make sure that when you walked through the door, you’d be overwhelmed with all things good. He knew it wasn’t going to be an easy session. He stops off at the drugstore and picks up your favorite kind of face-mask, and then he goes to one of your favorite restaurants to pick up one of your favorite meals.

When he gets home he grabs your nail kit and takes out your favorite colors. He sets everything on the coffee table. Next he fills a bin up with warm water and some soap. He sets that near the sofa on a towel. He was pretty proud of himself.

You were drained, spent really. Your session with Dr. Mara was good, but you cried more than you had in a long time. She let you get it all out. She wrote you a prescription that you weren’t sure you were going to fill. This was the first time you had even agreed to take something, but you never wanted to risk hurting the man you love most in the world ever again. You’d talk to Harry about it. Maybe he could go to the pharmacy with you so it wasn’t so scary.

You let Buster pee before getting him upstairs. You open the door and stop short when you see Harry walking out of the kitchen and lighting candles at the dining room table.

“You’re home!” He says brightly. “How’s my girl?”

“Um…okay.” He hugs you and pets Buster. “What’s going on?”

“Nothin’, just wanted to treat yeh.”

“You do enough of that.” You chuckle.

“Come on, I’m lovin’ on yeh, just humor me, hm?”

“Okay.”

He leads you to the table and you smile when you see a plate of raviolis from one of your favorite restaurants. Harry pulls your chair out and you sit down. You take a bite and close your eyes.

“So good, thank you.” You smile at him.

“You’re welcome. And after dinner I want you to go put your robe on and put your hair up.”

“Why, babe?”

“I’m gonna help yeh relax, so just do what I say.”

“Alright.” You giggle.

When you’re done eating you do as he says. You put your hair up into a messy bun and put your robe on. You come out to the living room and gasp when you see the set up.

“It’s like a little salon.” He says. “Sit down and put your feet in.”

“Harry…this is so sweet. I should be doing this for you though, I’m the one that-“

“You didn’t do anything.” He says a little too sternly. “Sit.”

You sit on the edge of the sofa and stick your feet into the warm water. Harry drags over the ottoman and sits in front of you. He takes all of the polish off your fingernails. He stands and grabs a warm cloth and dabs your face, getting all your makeup off, or what was left of it. He takes your small brush that you use for face-masks, and paints the clay on your face.

“You should do one too.” You say.

“Another time.” He smiles.

Once it’s on your face he sits back down and shows you the colors he picked.

“They’re perfect.”

“Want them on every other nail?”

“Mhm, just like yours please.”

He smiles and carefully paints the colors onto your nails. Harry’s never painted your nails before, you usually did his. He does a pretty good job, only has to redo one nail. He wipes the mask off your face when it’s time and dabs you softly to dry your face up. He gets behind you and rubs your face lotion in his hands. He massages it on and your lips part.

“Oh, wow.” You say softly. He smirks and continues rubbing it in.

“Feel nice, hun?”

“Mhm.”

“Good.”

When he sits back down he taps one of your knees to take your foot out of the bucket. He puts a towel on his leg and rests your foot on his thigh. He dries you off and takes the polish off your toes. He grabs some lotion and starts massaging your calf.

“Harry, you really don’t have to-“

“Y/N…” He says warningly, only glancing up at you for a moment. You sit back and let him continue. “Good girl.”

He paints your toes, and then does the exact same thing to your other leg and toes.

“Look at that, so pretty.”

He cleans everything up and plops down next to you when he’s done.

“Thank you, that was amazing. I thought I was going to melt into the couch.” You chuckle. He takes your hand in his and kisses your knuckles. “Harry…there’s something else I need from you.”

“Anything, angel.”

“Dr. Mara gave me a prescription for some medication. Something to help me…not get so freaked out.” You swallow. “I’m scared though. I’m not…strong enough to go to the pharmacy myself, and I’m terrified to see how some pills might change me. I could have mood swings, and who knows if they’ll even help.”

“Do you trust her?”

“Yeah, of course I do.”

“Then…maybe it’ll be good for you.”

“I’ve been fine for months and I’ve been trying to figure out why. She said having Buster around has probably been a greater help than I realized. But after last night…I don’t want to ever put you through something like that again. I wanna be the best I can be, for the both of us.”

“I can go with you before work tomorrow if you want, get it filled out. I’ll be with you when you take the first dose too.”

“I can’t drink alcohol while I take them…”

“Does that make you feel sad?”

“A little…more for the social aspect. But I’d rather be my best than drunk so.” You chuckle. Harry wraps an arm around you.

“We’ll get through this together. You don’t have to deal with any of this alone.” He kisses your hairline.

“Harry…I don’t know what I would do without you sometimes.” You look up at him doe eyed.

He cups your cheek and leans in to kiss you. You kiss him back and put your hand on his cheek, but he winces.

“Shit, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. Mind takin’ all this gunk offa me?”

“Not at all! In fact, I’ll put a face-mask on you too. And I’ll massage your face like you did mine.”

“Baby, I did all that-“

“It felt so good, I wanna do the same for you, please let me.”

He watches you walk off down the hall to your bedroom. He was nervous about you taking pills too, but if Dr. Mara thought it would help, who was he to tell you not to? You had done just about everything else you could do to help yourself. Now it was time to try another approach, and he’d be by your side every step of the fucking way.

#take it slow #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles y/n #harry styles x y/n #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut fic #harry styles fluff fic #smut #fluff #be kind this was a special part for me

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twiceblackvelvet · 4 years

Text

Username: xNotYourJoyx

A/N; hi. i have no clue where this idea came from. i don’t know why my brain always tells me to start more red velvet series’ randomly. but here is the latest spawn from it. this will have more parts to it because i’m interested in expanding on the dynamics of this trio plus i signed up for things that have since blown up my emails for this because i’m dedicated like that. anyway! enjoy. or don’t. idk anymore.

It was only a suggestion. A quick mention, really. “There’s this site, Seungwan,” is how it started. Except for that brief conversation spiraled rapidly into a whirlwind of curiosity and excitement. Perhaps, discussing the lack of sex life and the frustration that comes with that whilst you’re supposed to be busy working on the latest financial development wasn’t the smartest move, and yet, the conversation ended in a better resolution than she imagined when Joohyun had managed to pry the information out of her about why she’s been so on edge lately.

On edge being both literal and metaphorical. Getting to the high is easy, however, toppling over into the rush of being able to feel the full experience of pleasure has been evading her for the last few weeks now. Nothing seems to do the trick and though you may think it’d be fun to simply keep trying, it’s starting to become an issue with the more extreme methods she attempts. So, it desperately needs to be fixed, just not in front of all of her colleagues who are idly typing away the dull workday.

The rest of the day drags along. Nothing particularly interesting happens which Seungwan is grateful for, she could do without the extra stress. Though, she’s sure the new sponsorship to promote a dead-end product that everyone had warned their boss about will cause a headache in the future, she ignores the nagging feeling in the back of her mind. Joohyun was kind enough to buy dinner for the both of them which her stomach is currently grateful for as she’s certain her fridge at home is empty. But, watching her friend and colleague suckle on the ice cream bar she purchased for herself should not have resulted in her needing to press her legs together on instinct.

Joohyun didn’t notice, or if she did, she didn’t say anything and continued to lap her tongue across the cold strawberry flavored ice cream. Probably for the best. Nothing good ever comes from getting too involved with people you have to work alongside every day, even if that person does look like Aphrodite herself. The awkward looks between you both, everyone else knowing that the two of you have slept together but are now deciding on which color scheme to use for an advertisement, it just isn’t something that Seungwan wants to deal with. So, she and Joohyun will have to remain platonic. Unfortunately.

It’s late by the time she gets home. The hallway lights leading up to the apartment door flicker every few seconds and the apartment across the hall has the television turned up loud enough that Seungwan is sure they’re trying to let those in hell hear the latest episode of whichever show they’re currently watching. The keys in her hand rattle as she unlocks the stiff door that barely wants to open anymore. The loudness doesn’t disappear once she closes it behind her but it’s home and somewhere she can erase the feeling of being stuck, in more ways than one.

The latest routine of ordering in unhealthy food that is slowly destroying her insides, a cold shower to wash away some of the exhaustion, and then listening to the same songs for about an hour feels almost robotic but it’s what she’s grown used to now. Once the darkness begins to creep in across the apartment, cold air making the hairs on her arm stand to attention and the neighbors suddenly growing quiet, it’s the small bed in the corner of the room that calls out and the only thing echoing inside her head.

Well, it would be, had she not suddenly recalled Joohyun’s description of a site where many people frolic and entertain those who perhaps need a little extra help with their more sinful needs. She moves on auto-pilot toward the jacket hanging on the coat rack and reaches into the left side pocket for the small piece of paper where only the web address is scrawled upon it in Joohyun’s perfect handwriting. The laptop she bought years before and barely runs anymore rests on the dining table she never sits at, closed, and with a line of dust taking up home upon it. Grabbing it, she plops herself down onto the bed after removing her dressing gown and the towel around her hair which has long since dried and throwing it into a corner of the room to be cleaned up tomorrow.

Her fingers trace the keyboard idly, never pressing in a single key, simply going back and forth over the letters whilst her brain tries to decipher if this is something she wants to try out.

“Fuck it.” She thinks. Soon enough, the site is loading, slowly, and asking for her to confirm she is of legal age to enter it.

The screen finally loads and brings up a bunch of profiles under the “popular” banner. To say that the sight of all the various people before her is overwhelming would be an understatement. A sidebar reveals that she can choose a category as well as filter out specific things that are not of her interest. Some of the categories are the standard you would expect, for example, she immediately filters to only see profiles of women. However, others are a little more out there and specific toward what Seungwan assumes are people’s fetishes. A lot of them are things that she would never consider a person could find interesting sexually, and yet, the option is right before her. She ignores the curious voice inside of her head telling her to click on some of them.

A screen full of women now presents itself in front of her. All of them are beautiful and there’s a whole variety to choose from. The profile pictures range from selfies where they’re simply smiling to some of them being without clothing whatsoever. She scrolls for quite some time simply admiring all of the choices before her until one, in particular, captures her attention.

Wide dark eyes with hair of the same shade of brown, plump lips that are sporting a small smirk that’s both enticing and teasing. Part of the girl’s neck is on display for Seungwan to imagine herself kissing and biting softly. Without hesitation, she hovers over the username and clicks onto the profile.

“xNotYourJoyx” she repeats mentally a few times.

The next page reveals a sign-up box that doesn’t allow Seungwan to venture any further. She’s quick to type in her email address, a username not as clever as she would like and the same password she uses for everything else. The next step is to add her bank details in order to be able to subscribe to various pages. She hesitates at this portion realizing that it’s probably very easy for people to fall too far down this rabbit hole. Thus she promises herself not to subscribe to anything until she’s 100% sure.

After completing her profile, she’s brought back to the girl she assumes is named Joy or at least uses that name here. Her subscription rate is the first thing to appear. Her price is low Seungwan thinks, around $10 when she was expecting something far higher based on the type of content Joohyun had told her the people on the site create. The next part is an Amazon wishlist with various items in it ranging from hair extensions, expensive perfume, and medical equipment? She must be a nurse, Seungwan thinks.

Further down the page reveals a VIP service which is more expensive than the standard subscription but allows for you to request specific pictures or videos. There are rules that come along with it which Seungwan reads multiple times over.

Don’t ask me to say or tell you anything personal about me, we are not friends. You don’t know me like that.

No, you can’t have my Instagram or any other social media so don’t ask.

Don’t be a dick.

My amazon wishlist is not for me. I am not a doctor. But I’m down to dress as one for you if you’re into that.

“Well, that clears that up I guess.” She thinks.

For the next ten minutes, Seungwan simply scrolls through the free content on offer from Joy. A few shots of her without clothes but covering her body up with her hands or a sheet, all of which look professionally done which is surprising. She’s captivated and drawn in by this girl a lot quicker than she thought she would be, she can see why Joohyun would recommend such a thing to her now. The possibilities are endless and there are no strings attached. It’s an ideal situation for both parties.

Despite making the promise to herself, she’s quick to subscribe to Joy’s feed but ignores the large “upgrade to VIP” logo that’s glistening in gold below the payment button. It would seem strange or suspicious surely to her if someone new to her profile was suddenly paying for the premium option Seungwan tries to logic with herself.

A few seconds pass as the page reloads itself before finally Joy’s profile is unlocked for Seungwan’s eyes to devour. The same type of photos as previously, however, without anything covering herself up. The same natural reaction to jam her thighs together that she felt earlier with Joohyun ends up happening again except this time she positions her hand under the waistband of her bed shorts.

The further she explores everything Joy has posted the more the need to be touched becomes overwhelming Before she knows it her fingers are gently caressing her soft skin slowly yet with desperation. Many of the images have comments from other people praising the effortless beauty that Joy manages to convey with ease. Seungwan thinks that Joy must be someone with great confidence to display herself so openly like this. She wishes she too were able to picture herself in the way that Joy likely does.

Her body aches for some release but once more she’s not able to reach the peak as the page of images suddenly comes to an end. Once more, the gold button for premium appears and tells Seungwan she’s reached the limit of what she can see. A blurring effect does a good job of hiding what follows next, however, what it doesn’t do is stop her from being enticed further when she spots that Joy has also uploaded videos of herself, they are simply hidden from those on the basic subscription as her.

Almost sub-consciously she finds herself going against every warning sign inside of her mind telling her that paying to watch Joy rather than just look at her is a bad decision, one she will definitely come to regret or become too attached to doing, and yet, it’s too late once she’s confirmed the upgrade and clicked onto the first video that appears.

White background, likely a wall in her home, Seungwan thinks, until finally the girl steps into the frame with yet another smirk on her lips.

“Hello, welcome to premium. Thank you for subscribing. I hope you enjoy all of the videos and pictures that only a select few of you will ever get to see. If you’re feeling even more generous please be sure to check out my wishlist. Now, let’s have fun together.”

Her voice is silky smooth, Seungwan thinks. She replays the simple video a few times just to hear her make this decision sound like she’s part of an exclusive club where only she is invited, though, she’s aware that isn’t true at all. Joy likely has a ton of people paying to see the most intimate parts of her. The comments on this simple welcoming video are at 59 which means at least that many people have also fallen into the trap, though if Joy is the prize, Seungwan wonders if be tricked into paying extra like this is worth it in the end.

She decides to read through some of them just to get a sense of how people communicate with her here.

ksgeees says: can’t wait for you to send me my video Joy😏

canudoit2609 says: so hot🔥

r4bb1tfr13nd says: damn i should have subbed earlier🥵🥵🥵

speedzoom0408 says: YOU CAN HAVE ALL MY MONEY

HYUNSKY says: most beautiful girl ever

Strangely, the latter comment is the only one Joy has bothered to give a reply to.

xNotYourJoyx says: @HYUNSKY wow, thank you😳

The compliment is definitely correct and deserving of a reply, yet, Seungwan wishes she were the one to tell Joy such things and have her respond solely to her. Jealousy is a green-eyed monster and though she probably shouldn’t be feeling it toward a complete stranger, she does. The sound of the keys as she types out her own comment with her free hand that hasn’t been teasing herself is the only thing she can hear now. Not even the wind outside is able to pierce her eardrums and break her from this spell that Joy has put her under.

Wannie2102 says: you are so perfect, Joy.

It’s simple and Seungwan hates it, but she simply must tell this girl something, anything, in hopes that she sees it and feels happy to be complimented.

Silence now, nothing but the screen before her for light inside the cold bedroom. The list of videos, 71 in total, tempting Seungwan, taunting almost. Her left hand numb now from just resting against her own body whilst her right-hand clicks onto the next one in the list after the welcoming video.

The same white background, however, Joy is positioned in the video as soon as it starts this time. Laying down on a black crushed velvet sofa in only her underwear. Her right hand gently caressing her breasts as she grunts out a few low moans. Her left hand in a similar position to where Seungwan is resting her own. The tired and slow circles in which she moves her hand causes her eyes to roll into the back of her head as Seungwan changes her own pace to match that of Joy’s on the screen.

Her bed creaks with every movement of Joy’s that she mimics, the headboard bashing against the wall behind her whenever Joy quickens her pace and then sounds like a light drumming whenever she slows. The neighbor next door has definitely been awakened by the rhythmic sound of Seungwan rocking her body against her fingers.

“You’re enjoying this, huh?” The words surprise Seungwan out of her reverie as it’s as if Joy is present and asking her specifically and knowing that she too is pleasuring herself as she is doing. Without even thinking she manages to gasp out a yes in reply that only she can hear, yet gains a response from Joy almost like she can magically hear her. “I wish I could watch you touch yourself to me.” she pauses to lowly moan. “For me.”

The pressure rises between her thighs once more except this time her body allows her to release every bit of tension she’s had to keep trying to get rid of for weeks. Her entire body collapses against itself as she indulges herself in what she’s convinced is the longest orgasm to ever exist. Her legs shaking wildly as her arm tenses up and flex to make sure she feels every bit of her undoing. The sound of Joy finishing up her own continues to play in the background for further motivation but the deed has already been done.

She rests momentarily, staring up at the ceiling as gentle pants fill the room both from herself and the laptop. Nothing else in the world matters at this very moment. However, once more Joy manages to surprise Seungwan with her telepathic way of just knowing somehow when to speak to her viewer.

“Thank you for that, I hope you come back soon for more.” and then the video ends.

A dark screen replacing the beautiful image of Joy just as spent as Seungwan feels. But, now she’s left to think about everything that has just transpired between herself, the screen and a girl she doesn’t even know. Guilt wells up in her chest and she slams the screen shut almost shattering the glass. “Why did you do this?” is the only thing that repeats inside of her mind. No longer focused on the pulsating feeling against her hand as she pulls it out of her shorts too fast and whips herself with the waistband which will no doubt sting in the morning.

Her legs shakily drag her body to the bathroom almost tripping over various clothes that have sat there waiting to be cleaned for way too long now. She turns on the shower for the second time tonight and steps into it, almost falling immediately. The cold water shocks her body into feeling something other than the after-effects of pleasuring herself. Scrubbing every inch of her body intensely and repeating inside of her mind that she’ll cancel the subscription tomorrow and never do anything like this ever again. She can’t. Joy is a stranger and she shouldn’t be doing these things.

By the time she’s finished almost burning her skin with the washcloth to make sure she’s rid herself of her sins and changing her fair skin to a reddish shade, the clock on the bedside table shows that there are only three hours before she’s due to wake up for work. The bed seems tainted now, so she grabs the blanket and sleeps on the sofa that is far less comfortable.

Joohyun is definitely going to ask her about whether or not she used the site, definitely going to notice the dark circles under her eyes from the lack of sleep and will definitely draw up her own conclusion anyway no matter what her answer is. She tries her best not to think about any of this but there’s just a constant loop of the images of Joy, the sound of her voice, and the way she encouraged Seungwan to feel again.

She dreams of dark hair and brown eyes that night and moans that could be the most heavenly sound in the world or a new addiction that Seungwan isn’t ready for but may not have a choice but to indulge in it.

pt. ii

#red velvet #bae joohyun #son seungwan #park sooyoung #red velvet scenarios #girl group scenarios #irene #wendy #joy

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spn-safeandsound · 4 years

Text

18. Ways to Grieve

Safe and Sound

Dean Winchester x Original Character

Episode: 2x02; Everybody Loves a Clown

Word Count: 11,378

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence + gore, grief, mentions of sexual activities

Author’s Note: Here’s Abby’s first hunt with Julia and the boys! I hope you like the chapter. Let me know what you think. Make sure to reblog and like!

Masterlist in Pinned Post!

Julia was tossed onto the bed by Dean—he was careful of her healing wrist—her semi-naked body bouncing a couple times. She gasped and lifted her head, watching with dazed eyes as Dean pulled his t-shirt off his body, throwing it in the corner of their temporary room at Bobby's house.

"Uh-uh," Julia clicked her tongue, eyeing his jeans.

Dean rolled his eyes and unbuckled his belt, sliding it from around his waist and letting it drop to the floor. "I was getting there."

"Sure."

"Keep talking," Dean stepped out his jeans and eagerly crawled onto the bed and over her. "I might have to punish you."

"Is that a promise?" she teased him; she reached up with her good arm and hooked around his neck. Pulling him only two inches away from her lips, she whispered, "Dean."

"Hmm?"

His green eyes were on her swollen lips, where his own had been only a moment before. She could feel his erection against her stomach and she hardly felt his bare chest against her.

She arched her back, pressing her breasts against him. "Fuck me, Dean."

Dean buried his face in the crook of her neck and groaned, pressing an open mouth kiss against her sensitive flesh. She could feel his rough hands trailing from her ribs to her thighs, spreading them so he could fit between them. "With pleasure, shortcake."

Julia rolled her neck under the warm spray of the shower, trying to relax her muscles. Last night had been another night of rough sex and while she enjoyed it just as much as all the sex she had with Dean, so many nights in a row were killing her body in the mornings before she could get it warmed up with yoga or a run.

This morning was one of those days; she had woken up at five o'clock and met with Sam so the two of them could take a run while the sun came up. Sam would talk about John, airing all the grief and regret he had about his dad and Julia would listen and comforted him when he needed it, just like a best friend should do.

It had been a week since John Winchester died and they'd been at Bobby's ever since so Dean could work on his car. Beth, Taylor, and Lizzie had stayed for a couple of days, too. They picked them—and John's body—up at the hospital and drove straight to Bobby's house, staying at one of the motels in town while Julia, Dean, and Sam stayed with Bobby. Sam was a wreck, though having Lizzie there for a couple of days distracted him from his grief, and Dean was worse.

It wasn't that he was having crying meltdowns—come on, it's Dean—but instead, he had stayed stone quiet at any mention of his dad. He didn't talk about John and he would walk away if anyone mentioned him—especially Sam.

Not that it matters, but that's what would lead to the rough sex Julia and Dean had been having. He took all of his frustrations out on her—being careful not to hurt her, of course—and Julia would let him. John had just died and if sex is what would make Dean feel better, she was all for it. Of course, she wished he would just open up but Dean wasn't that kind of guy. She stood by his side, though, doing whatever she could to help him process his grief.

When Julia and Sam were done with their jog at six, Dean was already up working in the junkyard. He had been getting up earlier than usual to fix up the Impala. It had been absolutely wrecked in the accident—and according to Bobby wasn't worth the time to fix it—but Dean was determined to fix Baby back up. Both of them muttered a good morning to Dean, but he just grumbled back, sliding under the car to fix whatever damage had happened there.

From there, Julia and Sam separated. Sam went up to the guest shower to wash off and after he was down, Julia would get a turn. While Sam was taking his time in the shower, she would make breakfast just as Bobby would wake up. It had been their schedule since they arrived a week earlier.

Hearing her stomach growl, Julia rinsed out of the rest of conditioner in her hair and turned off the water. She stepped out of the shower and dried off, inhaling deeply to get a whiff of bacon once again. She quickly dressed in some leggings and a long tank-top before heading downstairs.

Dean was still outside but Bobby and Sam were seated at the kitchen table, eating their breakfast with vigor.

"How's the breakfast?" she announced her presence as she walked into the kitchen, heading straight toward the cheddar and bacon quiche with a biscuit crust she had made.

"This is great, sweetheart," Bobby smiled at her as she served herself a piece and sat in her usual seat between Dean's chair—it was empty at the moment—and Bobby's chair. "Thank you."

Julia waved him off with a sheepish smile.

"Yeah, thanks, J, it's good," Sam added.

"Thank you," she took a bite of her quiche and sighed, enjoying the flavor. "Did Dean eat?"

Bobby nodded. "He shoved a slice down his throat and went back outside. He told us to tell you thank you."

"Did he say anything else?" she prodded. "Maybe about John or how he's feeling?"

"No," Sam answered her this time. "But I found an old voicemail on Dad's phone and I think it's something we could check out. I'm gonna go talk to him after I finish eating."

Julia nodded. "Okay. What did the voicemail say?"

"It was a voicemail from Ellen," Bobby told her, giving her a pointed look.

"Ellen Harvelle? As in Jo Harvelle?"

Bobby nodded.

"So you know her, too?" Sam turned to Julia with curious eyes; Julia nodded. "How?"

"I've never met them personally but Abby talks about them all the time," she explained. "Abby hooks up with Ellen's daughter, Jo, from time to time, so—"

"Abby hooks up with the daughter?" Sam asked, eyebrows raised. "I didn't know she was bisexual."

Julia shrugged, knowing that some people may judge her sister for her sexuality but she wasn't one of them. People could love the people that they loved; she wasn't bothered by it and she proclaimed herself a proud ally for her sister. "She doesn't hide it."

"Oh," Sam hummed before shrugging casually. "Anyway, do you know why Ellen would call my dad?"

"I have no idea," Julia's eyes flickered over to Bobby. "Don't they own that bar?"

"The Roadhouse, yeah," Bobby finished the rest of his food and stood up, taking the plate to the sink. "I'll get you the address."

"Thanks, Bobby," Sam gave the older man a grateful look as he left the room; he then turned back to Julia. "I'm going to talk to Dean. Want to come with?"

"No, it's okay," Julia insisted. She wanted the brothers to have a minute by themselves; usually they were together all the time and she knew that the Winchesters needed a break from her once in a while—the same went for her, too. "You go on."

Sam nodded and went outside to talk to Dean. Even from the kitchen, where she finished her meal and started the dishes, she could feel Sam and Dean's energies clashing together. Sam was sad for his father and annoyed with Dean while Dean was guilty and angry. Each boy had more than two emotions racing around in their auras but these were the two that she could feel the strongest.

Three hours later, they were on the road in one of Bobby's cars—a minivan that hardly drove past sixty miles per hour, which was a nightmare to Dean, and had no backseat so Julia had to sit on a sheet on the dirty floor.

For some reason, a five-hour trip turned into something much longer. They arrived at the Roadhouse a little before sunrise the next day and by the time they parked out in front of the run-down bar, Dean was severely annoyed with the van and so on edge that Julia and Sam felt like if they said one word, he'd blow up—it wasn't the best way to travel.

Dean turned off the van with a huff, got out of his seat and opened the sliding door so Julia could get out (the sliding door happened to not have a handle on the inside, which aggravated the crap out of her). "This is humiliating!" he slammed the sliding door shut once Julia was safely out of the way. "I feel like a fuckin' soccer mom!"

Julia exchanged a half-amused, half-annoyed look with Sam as she adjusted her Nike shorts. She didn't understand how Sam and Dean could wear multiple layers of clothing in the hot weather and not die of heat exhaustion.

Sam tried to placate his brother. "It's the only car Bobby had running."

Julia stuck next to Dean in the front of the building as Sam wandered to the side.

"Hello?" he called. "Anybody here?"

Dean rattled the doorknob and when it wouldn't budge, he turned to Julia. "Shortcake, do you have the—"

"Yup!" Julia exclaimed, digging her hand into her drawstring bag and pulling out one of their beloved lockpicks.

Dean gave her a grateful smile and a promising wink as he took them from her. Julia could practically feel the flush in her cheeks, though the hot air around her made her feel the same, temperature wise. Dean finished up picking the lock and handed the tools back to her as he cautiously opened the door.

Julia hadn't seen many bars at the side of the road but the Roadhouse met her expectation of what they would be like. It was an open room filled with dark, dusty wood—tables, chairs, the bar—a pool table, and a jukebox in the corner by the door. Somehow, it was still cute and homey.

Julia let the door close behind her and followed the Winchester brothers further into the large room, looking around at the bottles of alcohol on the shelves behind the bar, the numerous tables, and...yeah, there was a guy passed out on the pool table.

"Hey, buddy?" Sam tried to wake him up as they all drew nearer; the man simply snored, unaware of the three people watching him. "Yeah, I'm guessing that isn't Ellen."

Dean scoffed under his breath. "No kidding."

Julia wandered off and Sam joined her while Dean stuck near the pool table. She had just walked off the mini platform that the table was on when she felt the head of a gun prod the small of her back.

"Dean," she squeaked. "Please tell me that it's you behind me and not a rifle."

There was a second of silence and then there was the cock of a gun behind her. Okay, shit, it was a rifle.

"Okay, we're not breaking in—I mean, we did break it but it's for a good reason—"

"Don't move," a woman's voice came from behind her.

"Yeah, okay, I won't move," she agreed quickly.

From his place next to the pool table, a knife pressed against his throat and a warm body against his back, Dean shook his head. He'd have to give her some more training on hostage situations. She was talking too much—as usual—and playing right into the kidnapper's hands.

He looked over to Sam, who was being held by another woman—this one older than the blonde that held her gun against Julia's back—and then back to Julia. "Jules!"

When she looked over at him, he silently tried to tell her to do the move he showed her a couple weeks ago, but he didn't need to. A familiar voice spoke behind him. "Jules, is that you? Can somebody turn on the damn lights?"

Julia recognize that voice anywhere. "Abby," Julia sighed as Abby let go of Dean; he sent her a glare and quickly took the knife from her hand, earning himself an apologetic look. "Thank God."

"Wait, this is your sister?" the older woman behind Sam asked. "Then the boys must be Sam and Dean Winchester."

"Yes, I'm Julia, Abby's younger sister, and that's Sam and Dean," Julia said quickly. "So, can you please put down your guns?"

The girl behind Julia dropped her rifle and walked to the nearest light switch, bathing the room with light. Julia first looked over at her sister—who was standing beside Dean wearing only a camisole and boy shorts—then at the blonde—who was only a couple inches taller than herself and wearing pajamas like Abby—and then at the older woman—who was lowering her gun from behind Sam's back.

"Son of a bitch," the older woman mumbled, putting the gun back on safety and setting it down on the board. Her mood lifted as she chuckled, introducing herself to Julia, Sam, and Dean. "Hey, I'm Ellen and this is my daughter, Jo."

Julia smiled at her in greeting and then turned to Jo. Jo was one of Abby's closest friends. They hooked up a bit and she had heard her sister gush over her all the time. By the way Jo was giving her an apologetic look, she assumed she had a good heart—and she was super pretty, too.

"I'm Julia, Abby's younger sister," she introduced herself, pulling Jo into a hug that made her stiffen in shock. "Sorry, most of my family are huggers," she let go, not wanting to make the blonde uncomfortable. Then she gestured to her sister, "Except that one."

"It's nice to meet you," Jo smiled softly. "Abby talks about you all the time."

"Yeah, I've heard a lot about you, too," Julia laughed and then turned to her sister, who was apologizing to Dean about something; then she saw the nick on Dean's throat. "Excuse me for a second," she told Jo before walking over to her boyfriend and sister. "Abby, what the hell?"

Abby put her hands in the air, defensive. "I didn't know who he was!"

"You've known Dean since you were born," Julia pointed out. "How do you not recognize him?"

"It was dark?" Abby's statement came out as a question. "Look, it was an accident."

Julia rolled her eyes at her sister—she was so much like Dean; shoot first ask questions later—and grabbed Dean's hand, squeezing it tightly. He returned her action as she dragged him over to where Sam and Ellen were talking. "Hi, ma'am, I'm Julia. It's great to meet you."

"You, too, sweetheart," Ellen smiled down at her.

"Do you happen to have a first aid kit?" Julia wondered, gesturing to Dean, who was holding his hand against the small cut on his throat just above his collar bone.

"Of course."

Within minutes, Dean and Sam introduced themselves to Ellen and Jo, they had sat down at the bar, and Julia was cleaning up Dean's cut and sticking a bandage over it.

"So," Dean turned to Ellen for answers about the voicemail she left John. "You called our dad, said you could help. Help with what?"

"Well, the demon, of course," Ellen shrugged casually. "I heard he was closing in on it."

"What, was there an article in the Demon Hunters Quarterly that I missed?" Dean asked, scoffing in annoyance; he didn't like to have his business out there so everyone could know. "I mean, who are you? How do you know about all this?"

Julia spared at look at Abby, who smiled mischievously at her. Abby had always loved when Dean lost his temper for whatever reason. It just always brought a smile to her face; Dean absolutely hated when she did it and would just get angrier, which led to more amusement on her part. It was an endless routine that always had Julia annoyed. But, at that moment, Julia took Abby's smile to mean that she was the one who told Ellen what John and Luke were up to.

Julia shook her head at her.

"Hey, I just run a saloon," Ellen held up her hands, showing she meant no harm. "But hunters have been known to pass through now and again. Including your dad a long time ago. John was like family once."

"Oh, yeah?" Dean snarked back at her. "How come he never mentioned you before?"

Julia elbowed his bicep, whispering sharply, "Dean!"

He didn't really relax like he usually did; he kept his sharp eyes on Ellen, watching as she shifted uncomfortably.

"You'd have to ask him that."

Dean fell quiet for a second, looking back at Julia with sad eyes. Julia softened the annoyed look on her face and gave him a sympathetic look; he was lashing out because his dad was gone and suddenly there was a lady out of nowhere that knew his dad without him knowing it.

Dean's lips quirked at her before he turned back to Ellen. "So, why exactly do we need your help?"

"Hey, don't do me any favors," Ellen sassed back. "Look, if you don't want my help, fine. Don't let the door smack your ass on the way out. But John wouldn't have sent you if..." she trailed off in realization. "He didn't send you. He's all right, isn't he?"

It was quiet for a second before Sam spoke, "No, no he isn't," he told her while Julia took Dean's hand. "It was the demon, we think. It, um, it just got him before he got it, I guess."

Ellen frowned sadly. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Dean told her gruffly as Julia rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb. "We're all right."

"Really, I know how close you and your dad were," Ellen said somberly.

"Really, lady, I'm fine," Dean bristled, his voice hardening.

Ellen didn't seem to mind his attitude for the moment but that didn't mean that Julia or Sam wanted Dean to continue to make things hostile.

"So, look," Sam changed the topic of conversation. "if you can help, we could use all the help we can get."

"Well, we can't," Ellen glanced at Jo before looking back at Julia, Sam, and Dean. "but Ash will."

Julia furrowed her eyebrows. "Ash?"

Ellen nodded and raised her voice. "Ash!"

The man who was still passed out on the pool table jerked awake, shaking his head—his blonde mullet swishing with every move—before turning around to look at Ellen. "What?" he grunted loudly. "Closing time?"

Julia looked back at Jo, Ellen, and Abby. "That's Ash?"

"Mmhm," Jo nodded while Abby smirked. "he's a genius."

Sam dropped the thick file—the one full of information that John and Luke had gathered on the yellow-eyed demon within the past year—on the bar in front of Ash. Julia watched Ash as she sat in between Abby and Sam at the bar, examining his energy—it was full of light with a happy-go-lucky attitude. Meanwhile, Dean stood on the other side of Sam, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared down at Ash.

"You've gotta be kidding me," Dean scowled. "This is guy's no genius. He's a Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie."

Ash chuckled at Dean. "I like you."

"Thanks."

Julia rolled her eyes at Dean's flat tone while Jo moved from her place at the side of the bar, where she was filling up glasses of water, and brought them over to Sam and Julia.

"Just give him a chance," she advised Dean.

Dean hesitated and Julia caught him looking at her. She pointedly moved her eyes toward Ash and cocked her head only a little but Dean got the gist; he sighed and sat down next to Sam, facing Ash.

"All right," he pushed the file over to Ash. "This stuff is about a year's worth of our dad and Luke Alexander's work. So, uh, let's see what you make of it."

Ash didn't respond to Dean's challenging smirk. Instead, he opened up the file and quickly started sorting through the papers. "Come on," he shook his head. "This shit ain't real. There ain't nobody who can track a demon like this."

"They could," Abby assured Ash while Sam and Dean exchanged a proud look. Ash cocked his head thoughtfully. "My dad is an expert in demons. Runs in the family."

"These are nonparametrics, statistical overviews, cross-spectrum correlations. I mean...damn," Ash said in appreciation. "They're signs. Omens. Uh, if you can track 'em, you can track this demon."

"Like crop failures and electrical storms?" Julia hummed curiously.

Ash looked over at her and winked. "You ever been struck by lightning?" he asked her, a twinkled in his eyes. "It ain't fun."

Seeing the way his brother stiffened, Sam got Ash back on track. "Can you track it or not?"

Ash nodded. "Yeah, with this, I think so but it's gonna take time. Uh, give me..." he paused to think, one of his eyes closing. "uh, fifty-one hours."

Julia smiled appreciatively. "Thanks, Ash."

"No problem, sweetheart," Ash stood from his stool and started heading to the back, where Abby told her the bedrooms were located.

"Hey, man," Dean called after him, voice tense, causing Ash to turn around to face him. Dean faltered, seeing that the man had no true intensions with Julia, "I, uh, dig the haircut."

"All business up front," Ash pointed to the short hair toward the front of his head before flicking the longer hair from his shoulders. "party in the back."

Julia giggled when the door closed behind him. "I like him."

"Ash is, like, a ditzy lab with amazing tech skills," Abby nodded in agreement.

Julia hummed and hopped off her stool. "I'm gonna check out the jukebox."

Abby waved her off and she wandered away from the bar and to the jukebox in the front. She flipped through the tiles, smiling and gasping excitedly when there were a couple of eighties love songs she liked, as a warm hand slid around her waist.

"Find anything good?" Dean asked as he looked down at the jukebox screen.

"A couple," Julia looked up at him with a sweet smile that he returned. "All Out of Love, Faithfully, Can't Fight This Feeling..."

Dean's smile slipped, turning into a small grimace when she listed some of the titles. He was fully aware that Julia liked the cheesy love songs from the previous couple of decades. They were all on her iPod and she played them once in a while when Dean allowed her to pick the music—he didn't like them but he sure did love the way her face light up when she listened to them. Her favorite of the songs was, of course, Hungry Eyes. The girl watched Dirty Dancing every week without fail.

But it was kind of funny to him that she liked Hungry Eyes the most. It described the two of them and their relationship pretty closely. Whenever he looked at Julia, he got hungry eyes—whether it was sexual, loving, or emotional, it didn't matter. He always wanted Julia in every way.

"No Hungry Eyes?" he clicked his tongue, faking his disappointment.

"Nope," she didn't catch onto his acting. "Don't worry, though, I can just sing it. I've been meaning to tell you! I've got this feeling that won't subside—oof!"

Dean had put his hand to her mouth, cutting off any more lyrics that trembled in her not-so-amazing singing voice. He laughed when she giggled and pulled his hand off, kissing his palm before dropping it.

"Oh, so you're ashamed of my singing, huh?"

"Not just your singing, shortcake. I'm not so hot at it, either," Dean reminded her; it was true and if she really got going, he wouldn't be able to resist joining in with her.

He hated to admit it but the song was kind of catchy.

Back at the bar, Sam and Abby—who moved over to Julia's seat—spoke quietly, were catching up. She had just been telling him about the picture Beth emailed her from the Fourth of July, when his gaze fell to the police radio behind the bar, a thin folder beside it. He quickly apologized to Abby for changing the subject and then caught Ellen's attention.

"Hey, Ellen, what is that?"

Ellen followed his gaze. "It's a police thing," she told him, continuing to fill up the containers of salt for the tables. "We keep tabs on things—"

"No, no," Sam interrupted politely, pointing to the file. "The folder."

Ellen hesitated for a second then walked over folder. "Uh, I was gonna give this to Abby..."

"He can take a look at it," Abby smirked, knowing that Sam was terrified of clowns. She took the folder from Ellen and slid it over to Sam. "Let me know what you make of it."

"Thanks," Sam opened the folder as Abby slipped away from the bar to where Jo was wiping off a table.

Sam went through the contents of the file, quickly skimming over each paper he picked up. When he finished, he called out for Dean and Julia, who were still by the jukebox, heads close together as they laughed. "Dean, J, come check this out!"

At the sound of her name, Julia pulled away from Dean and looked over at Sam, who was waving at them from the bar. She ignored Dean's sigh with a light smirk and linked their hands, pulling him over to see what Sam was looking at.

"Yeah?" Dean grumbled.

"A few murders, not far from here, that Ellen caught wind of," Sam informed them, showing them the research. "Looks to me like there might be a hunt."

"Yeah," Dean raised an eyebrow. "So?"

"So, I told her we'd check it out—"

"And you're not going without me," Abby interjected, bounding toward her little sister and the Winchester brothers. "Let me pack my stuff and we can go."

Dean grimaced. "Yeah, let's not—" he grunted when Julia poked him in the ribs, glaring up at him; Abby sent him the same look. "We'll wait outside."

"Good. We'll take my car."

"A clown?" Julia clicked her tongue, taking the file that Sam handed back to her and opening it up. "A killer clown?"

"I'm pretty sure that's what I said, Jujube," Abby rolled her eyes from the driver's seat of her Ford Explorer before focusing back on the road. "He left the daughter unharmed and killed the parents. Ripped them to shreds."

"And this family was at some carnival that night?" Dean asked.

Julia's eyes flickered to the top of the printed article she was reading. "Cooper Carnivals."

"So, Gail, how do you know we're not dealing with some psycho carnie in a clown suit?"

Abby glared at him through the rearview mirror. "Don't call me that, Deanna."

"Hey, now!"

Julia rolled her eyes and though she couldn't see Sam, she knew he was, too. Abby and Dean were never best friends growing up like she and Sam were. They acted like siblings who couldn't stand one another. It came from love, sure, but it could be a little annoying sometimes.

"The cops have no viable leads, Dean," Sam sighed before they could really get going. "and all the employees were tearing down shop."

"Alibis for each of them."

Sam agreed with Julia while Abby added, "Plus, this girl said she saw a clown vanish into thin air. Cops are saying trauma, of course."

Dean hummed. "Well, I know what you're thinking, Sam," he chuckled. "Why did it have to be clowns?"

"That's right!" Abby exclaimed, joining Dean in laughter. "Oh, my God, do you remember that time we went to Mickey D's and Ronald McDonald came out to visit the kid's play place and Sam peed his pants?"

Seeing the severely annoyed look on Sam's face, Julia had the sense to hold in her laughter. Her stomach hurt and her eyes stung but she did it. Dean, however, was howling with gut-bursting laughter. It was nice to see that bright smile on his face.

"After that, he'd burst out crying every time he saw a McDonald's commercial!"

"Oh, come on!" Sam protested weakly; when Julia couldn't help but join in, he shot back, "At least I'm not afraid of flying, or spiders," he pointed at Julia and then Abby. "or horses."

"Planes crash!"

"Spiders are poisonous!"

"Wait, wait," Dean caught up, shaking his head. He leaned forward and dipped to the side so he could see Abby's face from his spot next to Julia. "You're afraid of horses?"

Julia snickered while Abby scoffed. "We were talking about Sam's ridiculous clown phobia, remember?"

Julia shook her head and patted Sam's arm soothingly. "Don't worry, S, your phobia is valid. Apparently clowns do kill."

"Thank you, J," he gave Dean a pointed glare which had his brother chuckling again.

"All right," Dean calmed down. "So, these types of murders, have they ever happened before?"

"It's in the file," Abby told him, turning on the windshield wipers as they drove into some light rain. "Take it away, Julia."

"Yeah, the file says it happened in 1981," Julia hummed. "at the Bunker Brothers Circus. Same M.O. Three different times, three different places."

Dean furrowed his eyebrows. "That's weird, though. I mean, if it is a spirit, it's usually bound to a specific locale, you know? A house or a town."

"So, how's this one moving from city to city, carnival to carnival?" Sam wondered.

"Maybe it's a cursed object," Abby chewed on her lip. "A spirit attached itself to something and the carnival carries it around with them."

"Great. It's a paranormal scavenger hunt."

"This case was your idea," Dean reminded his brother. "By the way, why is that? You were awfully quick to jump on this job."

Julia wrinkled her nose uncomfortably and faced her foggy window. She was all for the brothers sharing how they felt with each other but lately, Dean had been too irritable. He didn't like those kinds of chick-flick moments, anyway, but after his dad died, he'd been avoiding them more than ever. Especially because Sam kept pushing him about dealing with his grief.

Abby kept quiet as well, not wanting to intrude on the brothers' business.

Sam shrugged. "So?"

"It's just not like you, that's all. I thought you were hell-bent for leather on the demon hunt."

"I don't know, I just think this job...it's what Dad would have wanted us to do."

"What Dad would have wanted?" Dean scoffed, looking at Sam in disbelief.

Oh, God, please don't let this turn into another fight, Julia pleaded mentally.

"Yeah, so?" Sam looked back at him, daring him to say something."

Dean shook his head and turned away from his brother. "Nothing."

Julia rubbed her nails over Dean's scalp, making sure that the shampoo she had applied for him was getting his hair nice and clean. They struggled in the small shower-bathtub combo and Dean had to get on his knees in order for her to even reach his hair in the first place, but they made it work.

"It's what Dad would have wanted," Dean repeated Sam's words with a scowl, holding onto her hips for balance. "He didn't give a fuck what Dad wanted a week ago."

Julia hummed to show that she was listening as she went toward the front of his head, rubbing the soap into his sideburns.

"He didn't even want to hunt," he went on. "He got out and he said he wanted to get out again! What, Dad dies and now he's wanting to carry on the family business all of a sudden?"

"I don't think that's it, babe. Here, lean your head back," she gestured toward the water; Dean did as he was told and rinsed his hair. "Sam's grieving just like you are. If hunting is what helps him deal with the fact that your dad's gone, then let him."

"I know," Dean grumbled, getting to his feet and switching places with Julia. "No, no, you need to stand—yeah, that's fine—I get it but it just bugs me."

Julia frowned sympathetically and rinsed the conditioner out of her hair. "I'm sorry that you're going through this, Bean."

The corner of Dean's lips quirked only a little. "It's not your fault, shortcake," he murmured, bowing his head to press a soft kiss on her bare shoulder. It wasn't sexual in nature, just loving. "You're helping me."

Her heart melting, Julia grinned when she saw that he had some excess soap on his nose. She stood on her tiptoes to wipe it off. "You're adorable."

"I'm not adorable," he pouted, making her giggle.

"I beg to differ, hotshot."

After Julia and Dean were dried off and dressed, they met up with Sam and Abby in the room next door before heading over to the local fairgrounds, where Cooper Carnivals was located for the week. Detectives were already on the scene when they arrived, forcing them to rethink their plan of faking police.

Dean went to talk to the detectives, so Julia, Sam, and Abby waited by the Tilt-a-Whirl that was being set up. A short woman dressed as a clown had walked by and she and Sam had the most awkward—and hilarious—showdown with their eyes . It lasted what felt like a whole two minutes, with Julia and Abby snickering at Sam, before the woman smirked at him and walked away.

Dean, who was walking back to them, had seen the whole thing. "Did you get her number?"

Sam scowled at him while Julia wheezed, her chest aching from lack of breath. Abby slapped her arm to get her to stop, a cheesy grin on her face, and addressed Dean, "Were there more murders?"

"Two more last night," Dean confirmed. "Apparently they were ripped to shreds and they had a little boy with them."

"Who fingered a clown," Sam assumed.

Julia quirked an eyebrow and shared a look with Dean and Abby.

"What?"

"Nothing," Dean told his brother. "anyway, the clown apparently vanished into thin air."

Abby hummed thoughtfully, biting her lip. "Looking for a cursed object is like trying to find a needle in a stack of needles. They could be anything."

"It's bound to give off EMF," Dean said distractedly, looking around nearest carnival trailers. "We'll just have to scan everything."

"That's nice and inconspicuous."

Dean didn't respond to Sam's sarcasm with any of his own. "I guess we'll just have to blend in."

"You boys picked a hell of a time to join up," Mr. Cooper, the owner and boss of Cooper's Carnival, led Sam and Dean into his trailer. It was a tiny little thing with half of it being living space and the other half office space. Mr. Cooper gestured to his desk, where two chairs were waiting on the other side. "Take a seat."

A grin started to stretch across Dean's face as he took in the chairs; one of them, the closest to the door, was decorated to look like a clown. He didn't bother looking at his brother and rushed to the normal chair, pushing Sam away as he attempted to avoid the clown chair.

Dean smirked at Sam as Mr. Cooper finished, "We've got all kinds of local trouble."

"What do you mean?" he turned his attention back to the older man.

"Oh, a couple of folks got themselves murdered. Cops always seem to start here first," Mr. Cooper said casually. "So, you two ever worked the circuit before?"

"Uh, yes, sir," Sam confirmed solemnly, disturbed by his chair. "Last year through Texas and Arkansas."

Dean gave Mr. Cooper a fake smile. "Yeah."

"Doing what?" Mr. Cooper asked skeptically. "Ride jockeys? Pull shoot? A-and-S men?"

Dean had absolutely no idea what any of those jobs were. He bet that Abby or Julia would know, though. The Petersen women were smart like that. Unfortunately, it wasn't very realistic for four people to apply for jobs together as a group so they had to stay on the sidelines at the moment—Abby wasn't very happy about that.

"Yeah," Sam cleared his throat uncomfortably. "it's, uh, little bit of everything, I guess."

Mr. Cooper cocked his head knowingly. "You two have never worked a show in your lives before, have you?"

"Nope," Dean didn't try to bullshit his way around this. "but we really need the work...oh, and, uh, Sam here's got a thing for the bearded lady."

He chuckled to himself but quieted down when Sam gave him a what-the-fuck-are-you-doing look.

"You see that picture?" Mr. Cooper pointed to a framed photo on the top of the filing cabinet next to his desk. "That's my daddy."

The guy in the photo looked exactly like Mr. Cooper. Too much like him, if you asked Dean.

Sam noticed the likeness, too. "You look just like him."

"He was in the business. Ran a freakshow until they outlawed them in most places," Mr. Cooper informed them. "Apparently displaying the deformed isn't dignified. So most of the performers went from honest work to rotting hospitals and asylums. That's progress, I guess."

Honestly, if Dean was born different like that, he wouldn't do either. Two negative choices on either end didn't sound like a good way of living. Choosing between being laughed at for money or rotting away in a hospital? No, thank you. He was good.

"You see, this place is a refuge for outcasts. Always has been for folks that don't fit in nowhere else. But you two?" Mr. Cooper leaned forward in his seat. "You should go to school. Find a couple of girls. Have two-point-five kids. Live regular."

Their lives weren't normal and they would never be. Julia and Sam? They were the lucky spectrum of hunters who had a taste of a normal life. Most of them lived and breathed hunting and that included Dean. He didn't know how to do anything else.

He had a girl and Julia was one of the two most important people in his life. He was lucky to have her because most hunters aren't able to find a significant other who even understood the life, let alone someone who lived it. And kids? He still thought about the dream he had of Peter and Jonah but it was just that—a dream.

Even if he wanted that apple-pie life, it wouldn't happen. It wasn't in the cards for him.

He went to tell Mr. Cooper that but Sam beat him to it. "Sir, we don't want to go to school and we don't want regular. We want this."

Dean looked at Sam in complete shock. Sam had told him before their run-in with Yellow-Eyes and the death of their father that he intended to go back to Stanford when everything was over. Sam didn't want to hunt for the rest of his life, he made that clear. Now, all of a sudden, he didn't want to go back?

Dean stared at the gravel under his feet as he and Sam walked away from Mr. Cooper's trailer, contracts of employment in their pockets. "Huh."

"What?"

"That whole, uh, I-don't-want-to-go-back-to-school thing," Dean gestured to the trailer behind them. "Were you just saying that to Cooper or were you, you know, saying it?"

Sam hesitated.

"Sam."

"I don't know," Sam looked away from him, looking around at the rides that were now up and running for the day.

"You don't know?" Dean scoffed. "I thought that once the demon was dead and the fat lady sings that you were gonna take off, head back to Wussy State."

Sam stopped walking only a few feet from the parking lot where Julia and Abby were waiting for them in the Explorer. "I'm having second thoughts."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "I think Dad would have wanted me to stick with the job."

That made Dean pause. Sam had spent most of his life fighting with their dad and had taken off for almost four years, without any contact, and now he wanted to join the family business for good. Just because their dad died. It infuriated Dean that Sam was only now wanted to do what John had wanted him to do. It was too little, too late.

"Since when do you give a fuck what Dad wanted?" his voice hardened as he questioned his brother. "You spent half your life doing exactly what he didn't want, Sam."

"Since he died, okay?" Sam admitted. When Dean nodded knowingly; he must have had an irritated look on his face because Sam bristled. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"Nah," Dean lied. "I don't have a problem at all."

He continued walking without another word, heading straight to Abby's vehicle. Julia rolled down the passenger window as he approached and he leaned his arms on it as he greeted them.

"Did you get the job?" she asked him with happy eyes.

He wished that he could maintain a quarter of the happiness that Julia always had within her. Maybe he wouldn't be a dick most of the time. Maybe he'd handle his dad's death better. Maybe he'd be actually able to talk about how he felt instead of keeping it bundled inside of him until he blew up. He wasn't that person, though, and that was okay. Julia was his person and she could be happy enough for the both of them.

"With benefits," he forced a smirk onto his face. "We start at noon."

"Nice," Julia smiled and leaned toward him. "Hey, did you happen to see if they had funnel cakes?"

"What's a carnival without funnel cake, Junior?"

It was hard to walk around the crowded carnival with full hands and eat funnel cake at the same time but somehow, Julia managed. With a yellow balloon tied around her wrist, a blow-up baseball bat and a small stuffed lion in the crook of her arm, and her cell phone pinned between her ear and shoulder, she was able to stuff the sugary deliciousness into her mouth while keeping an eye out for any suspicious clown activity and keeping in contact with Abby.

Half of Sam and Dean's shift had already gone by and none of them found anything. Sam and Dean had the EMF readers out and going while they picked up trash from the carnival goers but, according to Dean, they had canvased half the fairground and there was zip to show for it.

There was only so much to do at a carnival and Julia had done it all. She rode all the rides, going for the Tilt-a-Whirl and spinning strawberries five or six times, played a bunch of games while only winning twice, and had eaten at three different booths. Don't get her wrong, carnivals were exciting and she loved them as much as the next person but she was by herself after she and Abby split up in the second hour and now, she was growing bored.

"I'm passing the frozen lemonade stand now," Julia informed her sister, who was looking to meet up with her, as she passed the crowded booth.

"The one next to the deep-fried twinkies, the chili dogs, or the turkey legs?"

"Turkey legs—wait, there's deep-fried twinkies?" she wanted one of those. "Where?"

"By the Ferris wheel," Abby told her. "I don't think you need one of those, Jules."

"Sure I do," Julia didn't understand why she didn't need one. She liked snack cakes and if it was deep-fried? All the better. "I'm headed toward the Ferris wheel."

Before she could even turn back the way she came from, a calloused hand grabbed her elbow. She jumped and whirled around, about to drop her prizes and funnel cake to beat the person's ass, but faltered when she saw that it was Dean. He looked so cute dressed in his red carnival jacket.

"Oh, Dean's here," she said to Abby. "I'll call you back."

"Ugh, fine."

Dean grabbed the phone from in between her shoulder and head with a small smile, ending the call for her. "You look like you've been busy," he shoved the phone in his jeans so he could take a piece of her funnel cake. "Having fun?"

"I'm getting bored," she confessed. "Oh, I got you something."

Dean smirked teasingly at her. "Look at that, my girl won me a prize," Julia laughed and handed him the little stuffed lion. "Oh..."

Julia wrinkled her nose as she studied the almost blank look on Dean's face as he held the stuffed lion. "You can put it on your dashboard or, uh..." she hesitated. "or I can take it back if you don't want it."

"Of course I want it," Dean grinned at her and stuffed the lion into his jacket pocket. "I love it."

"You do?"

"Yes," Dean was careful not to jostle her enough so that she could drop her funnel cake or inflatable bat while he pressed his lips to hers quickly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Julia gave him another kiss before he could pull away fully. "So, have you found anything yet?"

"I haven't but Sam has," Dean told her. "Apparently there's a human skeleton in the fun house."

Julia raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Any EMF?"

"No, but I was on my way to check when I ran into you," Dean gestured behind him with his thumb before grabbing another piece of her funnel cake. "Wanna head there?"

"Sure," Julia agreed.

Before they could even start walking in the direction of the fun house, they were stopped by Papazian, the blind knife-thrower that had teared into Dean while he was asking for directions for Mr. Cooper's trailer earlier that morning.

"What are you doing here, kid?"

Dean and Julia shared an alarmed look.

"I'm...I was just, uh, sweeping and taking my break," Dean struggled to answer him.

"Bull," Papazian wasn't having Dean's nonsense. "And what were you two talking about? Skeletons? What's EMF?"

Julia furrowed her eyebrows while Dean looked at him in surprise, "Dude, your blind man hearing is out of control."

"Hey, we're a tight-knit group, we don't like outsiders," Papazian proclaimed. "And we take care of our own problems."

Julia stiffened when she felt the man's aura pulse angrily and darken drastically. Something was off about him.

Dean sized him up, finding an issue of what Papazian did say, rather than what he didn't. "We got a problem?"

Another flare of anger.

"You tell me, you're the one talking about human bones."

Dean hesitated for a moment, and then asked, "Do you believe in ghosts?"

"What?"

"My brother, me, and our girlfriends—" Abby would get a kick out of that, Julia was sure. "—we're writing a book about them."

Papazian seemed to except that and went on his way. Julia stared after him, not liking his aura or the vibes he was giving off. He certainly didn't feel like a normal human being; he was dark and had a severe hunger.

Without noticing, she and Dean ended up at the funhouse, where Sam and Abby were waiting for them.

"What took you so long?" Sam asked Dean.

Dean grimaced. "Long story."

"Mommy, look at the clown!" a chirpy voice that could only belong to a little girl came from only a few feet away from them.

They all turned their attention to her, watching as the mom questioned where the clown was and when the little girl pointed to nothing, she hurried her daughter toward the parking lot. Once they were gone, Julia, Dean, Abby, and Sam exchanged knowing looks.

Julia finished typing her email to Beth, giving her a brief summary of how the boys were dealing with John's death and making sure to include video of her and Abby that told her, Taylor, Lizzie, and Maggie that they missed them. Once the email was sent, she started looking up supernatural creatures that dressed up as clowns.

She didn't think this was a spirit for two reasons. One, Sam and Dean had found no EMF, even on the skeleton from the fun house. And, two, something about Papazian gave her a bad feeling. Like worse than a common spirit usually did.

She shared her thoughts with Abby, who had stayed behind with her when Sam and Dean went to watch the little girl's house—in a totally not creepy way—and was currently cleaning her weapons on her and Sam's bed.

"All right, tell me again—"

"I told you, Abby," Julia rolled her eyes and looked away from her laptop. "I had a bad feeling about Papazian."

"So, what, you're Luke Skywalker now?" her older sister joked; Julia gave her an unamused look. "Okay, sorry. So, if you think that Papazian is behind this people-eating clown, what do you suppose it is?"

Julia grimaced. "Honestly, I was hoping you would know."

Abby shook her head with a laugh and climbed off her bed to settle next to Julia on hers. "Let me show you something."

Abby grabbed the computer from her pajama-clad lap and onto hers. She went to PSC's website and went to the employee section. That led them to another site where she maneuvered her way to a page where one of the links under IT tech brought them to a private website that they had to use a username and passcode to get in. It was that website that amazed Julia.

Similarly set up to PSC's website, this one had hunting items for sale like silver bullets and particular knives that a hunter might need and so on. There was a forum where hunters could post information that they've come across on hunts or if they needed a partner for a hunt, they could search there. And there was an online encyclopedia that was Julia's favorite, where each letter in the alphabet had sections that would list creatures under that letter and could lead you to more information.

She had no idea that the website had ever existed.

"How do I get in?" Julia asked. "Like, how do I get my own username and password?"

"I'll give Frank a call and have him add you, Dean, and Sam," Abby said casually. "He's the IT guy where you get the link."

"He works for us?" the picture of Frank made him seem like a very grumpy man who didn't play well with others.

"Kind of. He runs this site and he makes sure it's secure but he's pretty much a recluse," she hummed. "I think he knew Nana Rachel and Papa Isaac."

"Huh," Julia's maternal grandmother, Rachel, had died before she was born but her Papa Isaac was a great man. He was gone now, having died only a few years before her mother went.

Abby laughed lightly, rolling her eyes at her younger sister. "All right," she moved off of Julia's bed and went back to hers, starting up her own laptop. "Let's start narrowing down possibilities."

The sun had finally risen after two hours of hiding in a stolen car in the middle of nowhere, covered by a thicket of bushes so the police wouldn't be able to spot them. Their whole night blew; the mysterious apocalyptic clown had turned out not to be a spirit and it had definitely gotten away when the little girl screamed at their attack, alerting her parents to the fact that two strange men and a murderous clown were in their house.

They had run out quickly after that and had found a spot just out of town to stay hidden until dawn. Luckily, Dean wasn't left alone with Sam—well, he was but they were also on the phone with Julia and Abby in order to find out what this clown really was. All they knew so far was that the creature was corporeal, wasn't affected by salt, and could make itself invisible. So, thankfully, there was no talking of any kind about the death of John Winchester.

Unfortunately, now that Sam and Dean were beginning their trek heading back to the outskirts of town so that Julia and Abby could pick them up, they had plenty of time to talk. Unluckily enough for Dean, Sam did just that.

"Hey, uh, you think that Dad and Ellen ever had a thing?"

Dean was in no mood to talk about his dad—even if it wasn't about the subject of his death. It was hot out, the sun was searing the back of his neck, he was tired, and he was definitely hungry. The last thing he wanted to do was theorize about his father's flings.

"Nah."

"Then why didn't he tell us about her?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know, maybe they had some sort of falling out."

That was something that John was actually consistent about; he always fell out with other hunters—Bobby wasn't the only one and if John was still alive, he certainly wouldn't be the last.

"Yeah," Sam sighed. "You ever notice how Dad had a falling out with just about everybody?"

Dean nodded his head noncommittedly. There wasn't a need to answer. They both knew it was the truth and there wasn't a reason to hash out the fact that their father was a stubborn asshole who always thought that he was right.

Just thinking of John that way—even though he had those kinds of thoughts a lot while he was alive—made him nauseous. His dad was dead and here he was, thinking bad of him. This was why he didn't want to think about John. Because there was too much to think about. If he thought about how his dad treated him while he grew up, or how he didn't have a childhood because of him—or how he missed out on so much in life, the suspicion around his restored health just before his dad died, or about the last words John said to him—he would break down. And he couldn't. He wasn't that person.

He wouldn't be that person.

Sam noticed his melancholy mood. "Well, don't get all maudlin on me, man."

Dean shot him a look. "What do you mean?"

"I meant this strong-silent thing of yours. It's crap and I'm over it—"

"Oh, God," Dean expressed his irritation before Sam was finished speaking.

"This isn't just anyone we're talking about, this is Dad," Sam said, annoyed. "I know how you felt about the man."

"You know what, back off, all right?" Dean snapped at him. "Just because I'm not caring and sharing like you want me to—"

"No, no, no," Sam objected, cutting him off. "that's not what this about, Dean. I don't care how you deal with this but you have to deal with it, man. Listen, I'm your brother, all right? I just want to make sure you're okay."

Dean clenched his jaw. "Dude, I'm okay!" he raised his voice. "I'm okay, okay? I swear, the next person who asks me if I'm okay, I'm gonna start throwing punches. These are your issues, quit dumping them on me."

Sam stopped walking and turned to Dean with a bewildered look. "What are you talking about?"

"I just think it's really interesting, this sudden obedience you have to Dad," Dean shot straight, unable to hold back his opinion of Sam's change of heart. "It's like, oh, what would Dad want me to do? Sam, you spent your entire life slugging it out with that man. I mean, fuck, you picked a fight with him the last time you ever saw him."

Sam grimaced and yeah, Dean felt a little guilty about his heated words but if Sam wanted him to share his feelings, he was going to do it.

"And now that he's dead, now you want to make it right?" he continued. "Well, I'm sorry, Sam, but you can't. It's too little, too late."

Sam's hazel eyes sparkled with tears. "Why are you saying this to me?"

"Because I want you to be honest with yourself!" Dean exclaimed. "I'm dealing with Dad's death. Are you?"

Sam pressed his lips together and clenched his jaw, obviously fighting back the anger he felt at Dean. Dean wished that he wouldn't; maybe he wanted to get Sam mad, wanted him to fight back. Maybe physical pain would take his attention away from all that he was feeling.

"I'm going to call Abby," Sam finally said.

It was only when Sam had slumped away from him that Dean started to feel guilty. This was his little brother; he was supposed to protect him, not make him feel worse.

Twenty minutes later, he and Sam were sliding into the backseat of Abby's car, relaxing as cool air surrounded them. Without a word, Julia—who was taking the opportunity to sit shotgun—had handed them each a breakfast sandwich and some hash browns. Of course, it was McDonalds; Dean wasn't a fan of them but Julia loved their breakfast, especially the sausage, egg, and cheese bagel. He wasn't surprised to see that she had her bagel sandwich in her lap.

He smiled at her in thanks and immediately took a bite of his own sandwich.

"All right, so, I'm pretty sure this thing is a rakshasa," Abby spoke up as she started driving back to town.

"What's that?" Dean asked around a mouthful of food.

"It's a race of ancient Hindu creatures," she told him and Sam. "They appear in human form, they feed on human flesh, they can make themselves invisible, and they cannot enter a home without first being invited."

"So, they dress up like clowns and the children invite them in," Sam assumed.

Both Abby and Julia nodded in response.

"Why don't they just munch on the kids?"

"No idea," Abby sighed, answering Dean's question. "Maybe there's not enough meat on their bones."

"Abby," Julia gave her sister a disapproving look, her face paling a little.

Abby shrugged nonchalantly.

"So, what else did you find out?" Sam wondered.

"Apparently, rakshasas live in squalor," Julia answered this time, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "They sleep on a bed of dead insects. And they have to feed a few times every twenty or thirty years."

"That makes sense," Dean nodded. "I mean, the carnival today, the Bunker Brothers in '81."

Sam agreed, "Right, and probably more before that."

"All right," Dean clicked his tongue and looked toward the front of the car. "So, did the lore say how to kill this bastard?"

"A dagger made of pure brass," Abby smirked, tapping her fingers against her steering wheel, the red polish on her nails gleaming brightly in the sunlight. "Luckily, I have one in my collection."

"Good," Dean said decidedly. "Let's go gank the blind guy."

Julia didn't particularly like being in a bar full of other hunters. Something about it just made her stomach twist. Maybe it was because she hadn't worked with other hunters except Sam, Dean, Abby, John, and her father...or maybe it was because of the leering looks they gave Jo as she wandered around, giving them the pints of beer that they ordered. Honestly, she felt bad for the blonde; she had been on the receiving end of disgusting leers but never everyday all day. It had to be tiring.

Jo was a spitfire, though, and she could totally handle herself. That was what Julia liked the most about her, other than the fact that she was funny and easily kept up with Abby's banter. Abby wasn't the type to settle down with a boyfriend or girlfriend, but if she did, Jo had Julia's vote. The blonde was special and so was Ellen. They'd fit into the family great.

Ellen came over to her with a bottle of beer and a glass of soda in her hands just as the familiar weight of Dean's arm slid around her waist. He sat on the bar stool next to her and accepted the beer from Ellen with a grateful smile.

"You guys did one hell of a job," the older woman praised one half of their quartet.

Julia smiled at her and accepted her cola. "Thanks, Ellen."

Ellen backed off with a smile and went to dry some glasses. As soon as she was out of earshot, Dean turned to her with a mischievous grin on his face. "I think your sister is chatting up Sam."

"Oh?" Julia gave him an excited look, though it was more for his benefit. She didn't really know how to feel about Abby and Sam hooking up. It wasn't because she didn't think they wouldn't make a great pair but Abby was a player and she didn't want her sister to hurt Sam, who was more emotionally intense when it came to stuff like that.

Dean nodded excitedly. "And I don't think she's the only one."

Julia gave him a confused look and glanced over his shoulder; at the other side of the bar, Sam sat with Abby and Jo on either side of him, both wearing flirtatious smiles.

Oh.

Julia coughed uncomfortably and placed her attention back on Dean, who still had that shit-eating grin on his face. "It's very weird that you're so excited about Sam's possible hook-ups."

Dean shrugged. "It's good to see him get back on the horse—or horses—heh-heh."

"Please don't refer to Abby and Jo as horses, D."

"Sorry," Dean shrugged, his eyes locking on the door that led to the resident area of the bar. "Look, there's Ash."

Ash walked over to them and set his laptop on the bar next to them. "Jules, Dean," he nodded at them and waved Sam over; Sam excused himself from Abby and Jo. "Where have you guys been? I've been waiting for ya."

"We were working a job, Ash," Sam came to stand behind Julia. "Clowns."

Ash gave him a you-have-to-be-shitting-me look. "Clowns? What the fuck?"

"You got something for us, Ash?" Dean asked before he could go on a tangent.

Ash nodded and opened up his laptop, which was stripped down to wires, the hard drive, keypad, and screen. Julia guessed that he had built the computer himself because she was pretty sure you couldn't buy one of those. Jo did say he was a genius.

"Did you find the demon?" Sam asked.

"It's nowhere around," Ash answered gravely. "At least, nowhere I can find. But if this fugly bastard raises his head, I'll know. I mean, I'm on it like divine on dog dookie."

Julia quirked an eyebrow at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, any of those signs or omens appear, anywhere in the world, my rig will go off," Ash explained and turned the laptop, showing them the screen; there was some type of radar and database pulled up. "Like a fire alarm."

Dean's eyes lit up as he looked over the computer; he reached for it and Ash stiffened, cocking his head. "Do you mind...?"

Ash clicked his tongue and the hand that Dean had almost put on the mouse slowly retreated.

"What's up, man?" Ash lifted his chin in a swift nod.

Julia grinned at Dean's pout while Sam asked, "Ash, where did you learn to do all of this?"

"MIT, before I got bounced for fighting," Ash answered casually.

Sam quietly scoffed in disbelief. "MIT?"

Ash nodded. "It's a school in Boston."

"I like you, Ash," Julia laughed as she reached for a high five from the genius blonde. "You're the best."

Ash returned the high-five sluggishly, though the crooked grin on his face gave away his friendliness. "You too, sweetcheeks."

"Okay," Dean said all too quickly. "give us a call as soon as you know something?"

"Si, si, compadre," Ash confirmed, taking Dean's bottle from in front of him and gulping down the rest.

The three of them got ready to leave. As Julia paid their tab, Ellen spoke up, "If you guys need somewhere to stay, we've got a couple of rooms in the back."

Dean exchanged looks with Julia and Sam before answering, "Thanks, but no. There's something I gotta finish."

Hours later, as the sun set, Dean was crouched down in front of the back-right tire of his baby, tightening the bolts of the new tire until they were just right. When he heard the gravel shift to his right, he didn't bother looking up. He knew it was Sam just from the gait of his steps.

Great, he grumbled to himself, another pep talk.

He finished with the tire and only then did he look up; Sam was standing behind the newly restored trunk, kind of huddled in on himself.

"You were right."

Dean stood up straight and walked around Sam in order to set his wrench back in the toolbox. "About what?"

"About me and Dad," Sam elaborated. "I'm sorry that the last time I was with him I tried to pick a fight. I'm sorry that I spent most of my life angry at him. I mean, for all I know, he died thinking that I hate him."

Dean didn't respond; he had nothing to say.

"So, you're right. What I'm doing right now, it's too little, too late," Sam paused for a moment, his eyes filling with tears. "I miss him, man. And I feel guilty as hell. And I'm not all right. Not at all...But neither are you, that much I know...I'll let you get back to work."

Sam left and headed back into Bobby's house. Dean turned around, a mess of emotions brewing at the bottom of his stomach. It built and it built until it rested in his chest. There was anger and hurt and resentment, and oh-so much grief...And all of it was because of his dad.

His dad, who treated him like a little soldier. His dad, who taught him how to shoot a gun when he was way too young. His dad, who left his baby brother in his care when he was only five years old. His dad, who made him grow up much too soon. His dad, who made him feel safe even when there were beings that came out of his nightmares living in the world around him. His dad, who loved him and Sam so much. His dad, who was dead.

His dad was dead.

He hastily picked up the crowbar next to his toolbox and whipped around, slamming it into the driver's window of an old car behind him. Glass shattered onto his lower torso, legs, and feet but he didn't care. It wasn't enough, it wasn't enough to describe how he was feeling.

He smashed the crowbar into Baby's trunk; it bounced but didn't budge or break. He did it again and again, over and over, as his anger exploded from him like a bomb. At the moment, he didn't care that he was trashing his beloved car all over again; the Impala just reminded him too much of his dad.

His blood was pumping, he was sweating profusely, and tears had sparked in his eyes as he bashed Baby's trunk until there was a decently sized hole in the middle. Only then did he drop the crowbar, where it made it tinkling sound against the gravel. He turned in the direction of Bobby's house, as if Sam would be able to feel his angry glare from where he was standing, but he came face-to-face with Julia.

His beautiful Julia. Julia, who had been understanding throughout the week since John's death, letting him fuck his frustration out on her. Julia, who had been good about giving him space to deal with his grief. Julia, who was the sunshine in his dark and cloudy mind. Julia Ruth Petersen, who was too fucking good for him.

And there she stood, a small smile on her face that felt like home. There was love and understanding in her eyes as she waited for him to do something, anything, but it made his stomach turn. She was good and he wasn't. He would just bring her down.

He was poison; his dad dying had proved that.

So, even though Julia there, waiting to support him and love him, he walked away from her.

(Gif is not mine)

#supernatural rewrite #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x original character

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abundanceofsoph · 4 years

Text

SkyFire 2: Chapter 11

The Mural & The Anniversary: September 201

Word count: 2.1k

Aurora's memorial song is Andie Case's See You Again/The Scientist/Stay With Me

SkyFire 2 MASTERLIST

>Instagram posts

Aurora and Steve were working in their shared art studio a few days later. Aurora was wearing her prosthetic hand as she painted at her easel, thankful to finally be able to hold her palette again instead of piling paint pots on a side table. Ben had instructed her to only wear it for an hour or two each day to avoid injuring herself or creating pressure sores on her stump. She’d spent her hour the previous day at the piano, slowly retraining herself to play again and today she had allotted the time to painting. Both she and Steve had missed the hours they would spend together in the studio, soft music filling the comfortable silence between the two of them. Aurora was chewing at the inside of her cheek, her mind a million miles away as she focused in on the finer details of her mural concept.

“Hey pops?” she finally asked, drawing Steve’s attention away from his own canvas. “Do you have any plans this week?”

“No, why bug?”

“I’m going to be painting that mural at Columbia,” she explained, “and I was… I was wondering if you could come with me. But if your busy, it’s fine.”

Steve picked up on her anxiety almost immediately. There was a fine tremor in her right hand, her paint brush wavering in the air, and her eyes couldn’t seem to land on anything for longer than a split second. He knew if he placed a hand on her chest right now, her heart would be racing.

“I’d love too,” he smiled softly. “Always love watching you work.”

She returned his smile, the anxiety washing out of her in a wave, reassured that she wouldn’t be alone when she returned to the campus for the first time in almost a year.

xXx

As she walked onto campus Aurora was glad that she’d swallowed her pride and asked Steve to come with her. The terror she felt being back there was palpable and she felt herself shaking as she looked at the sprawling buildings in front of her. Happy had dropped them at the closest entrance to the quad, helping Steve pull her equipment from the trunk of the car. She had her backpack slung over her shoulders, full of brushes, paint tins and drop cloths, her prosthetic was mostly hidden under the sleeve of her oversized sweatshirt, red letters spelling out Columbia across her chest. Steve walked over to her side, dropping the ladder and bag of equipment beside her as Happy climbed back into the car and drove away.

“You ready to do this?” he asked, reaching out to squeeze her hand. She let out a shaking breath, continuing to stare out across the perfectly tailored lawn and she knew that without his hand in hers she wouldn’t have had the strength to put one foot in front of the other. She squeezed his hand in reply and it was only when she tore her gaze away from the campus to look at him that she saw her own nervousness echoed in his blue eyes, so like hers. In that moment she knew that he was reliving that day right along with her.

“I’m ready,” she replied. “You?”

“Let’s do this,” he said, smiling softly as he dropped her hand to pick up her supplies again.

Without another word they both strode off up the path in front of them. They quad was empty when they arrived and started setting up. After spreading out the drop sheet they quickly got to work prepping the wall and laying down a base coat of sunshine yellow. The happy colour helped pull them both out of their memories and Aurora set up a little speaker to play some of their favourite tunes. By the end of the afternoon they had finished the base yellow and Aurora had started to rough in the outlines of the figures in the foreground. Once the sun started to set, they cleaned off their brushes and rollers, leaving all the equipment in a storage room in a nearby building that had been cleaned out for her by the Student Union.

Steve wrapped his arm around her shoulder as they walked back through the campus towards where Happy was waiting to pick them up. “Thank you for coming with me Pops,” she said.

“Glad to be here,” he replied. “Feels good to be making better memories of this place.”

“Yeah it does,” she agreed. “I think that’s why I wanted to be the one to paint the mural when it was announced. I used to feel like I belonged here, and I want to take that back.”

“You will.”

xXx

She spent the next two weeks working on the painting, starting with the school mascot kneeling in the centre of the scene. On either side of the anthropomorphic lion, with a hand on each shoulder, were Iron Man and Captain America and behind them were the other first responders; police, paramedics, doctors and nurses, all standing shoulder to shoulder in solidarity, their heads dropped in mourning. The crowd behind the lion steadily lost colour as they moved towards the back of the scene until the furthest figures were only black silhouettes, a faceless mass of support. Across the bottom of the painting, at their feet, was the wreath of roses being placed down by the lion and then, lining the ground in front of them were 43 white pillar candles, one for each victim, their names painted in gold and flames glowing softly. She finished the piece with a frame bordering the image in soft metallic gold paint, the same paint she used for the lettering. When everything was done, she packed all her equipment off to the side and stepped back to take in the finished work. She felt a few tears slide down her cheeks as she read each name on the candles once again, every name burned into her brain, unable to be forgotten even if she wanted to.

She sent a quick email to the Student Union to let them know she was finished and then called Happy to come pick her up from the usual spot. She left all of her equipment in the storage room again, deciding that she was too tired to deal with taking it all home today. Maybe Pops would be free tomorrow to help her ferry it back. She shouldn’t have been surprised when Harry was the one waiting for her on the curb, but she was. A grin lit up both of their faces and he kissed her softly once she reached them.

“Do I not get to see the masterpiece?” he asked as she went to climb into the car.

“I’ll show you tomorrow when I come back with my camera and lights,” she replied. “I just wanna go home now.”

Harry silently agreed, holding open her door for her and then jogging around to climb into the driver’s seat. Aurora had been planning for what she wanted to do when she finished the mural for weeks and was excited to finally be able to enact her plan.

She’d been working on a video idea, and having gotten permission from the Student Union, she and Harry return to the quad the following evening, late enough that the sun has set, and the campus was nearly deserted. Harry helped her set up her lighting rigs, ensuring that the mural was softly lit under a warm glow. While Aurora turned her attention to setting up her video camera on a tripod, lining up the shot perfectly, Harry set up the dozens of battery powered candles they’d brought with them. Finally, everything was ready, and Harry moves behind the camera, hitting record when Aurora nodded from where she’d taken a seat in front of the painting, surrounded by the flickering glow of the candles. The scene was beautiful with the candles providing enough light to illuminate Aurora’s face while the mural was backlit, a faint breeze blowing through the quad to lightly lift Aurora’s long, dark curls. She’d taken her prosthetic off, the stump of her left hand visible below the hem of her black shirt.

Harry pressed play on his phone, music filling the night air as the video camera recorded the scene in front of him. For the past week, Aurora had spent her days on campus painting, and then once the sun set and she returned home, she had spent the evenings in the studio, recording the song now playing from Harry’s phone. It was a medley that Aurora composed of The Scientist, See You Again and Stay With Me, a soft piano track backing her vocals. After an hour, and multiple takes, Aurora was happy with what they had and ready to head home to start editing it all together in time for the anniversary at the end of the week. They quickly packed up the camera, lights and candles before leaving.

“I’m really proud of you,” Harry told her as they headed for the car. “It’s going to be a beautiful tribute.”

“Thanks,” she replied, holding out her hand for his and lacing their fingers together, his thumb brushing softly across the back of her hand.

xXx

◊Mark: The news is reporting on you painting the mural at Columbia. I’m getting bombarded with interview requests.

◊Aurora: and you think I should do one.

◊Mark: With the CMAs around the corner I think this would be a good way to relaunch your brand.

◊Aurora: Relaunch my brand? I’m rolling my eyes so hard at you right now.

◊Mark: Yeah, yeah, I know you hate all of this. Doesn’t make it any less true. Everyone has been itching to hear your side of things for the last year.

◊Aurora: Ok. I don’t like it, but I trust you. Who’s the best option?

◊Mark: How do you feel about Stephen Colbert? We were in talks to get you on there last year before everything happened and they’re planning a memorial episode with some of the other survivors.

◊Aurora: He’s been great to Dad and Pops. Can you make it happen?

◊Mark: Leave it with me and I’ll set it all up.

◊Aurora: I’ve been tossing up the idea of releasing a song and having all the profits go to the ColumbiaStrong fund.

◊Mark: They have musical acts on the Late Show, you feel up to combing the two?

◊Aurora: Perfect.

xXx

Harry and Aurora were curled up on the sofa the afternoon before her appearance on the Late Show, her head rested on his shoulder and his fingers brushed through her hair.

“Hey babe?” Harry asked. Aurora hummed in response, prompting him to continue. “I know we’ve got a lot on our plate over the next few months with the CMAs and then the wedding and the album in the new year, but there’s something I’ve been thinking about… I think I want to sell Erskine after the wedding.”

“What?” Aurora gasped, sitting up suddenly to look at him. “You love that house and you’ve put so much work into it.”

“I know,” Harry agreed, “and I do, but it’s my house and I want to buy somewhere with you. I want to have our house. I know that when we’re here in the states you want to stay in the tower so I thought we should buy a place in London together. Wherever you want. Maybe we could buy something in Wimbledon.”

“Oh, Harry,” she sighed, her voice laced with all the affection she had for the man sitting in front of her. “You’re such a romantic. I would love to buy a place with you. I think we should keep Erskine though. We both have a lot of good memories there. Maybe we could rent it out.”

“We could do that,” Harry grinned. “If we find something new before the wedding it would be handy to let all the family stay at the house after the reception since they’re already there, then we can just sneak out and won’t have to wait until everyone leaves.”

“I like the way you think Styles.”

xXx

The next day Aurora found herself in a green room at the Ed Sullivan theatre with her manager, Mark. “You ready?” he asked her.

“I hope so, because it’s a bit late now to change my mind.”

“You’ll be great,” Mark promised. “He’ll do the monologue and then introduce you. You’ll talk about your recovery and the charity work you’ve been doing with Steve and Tony, then you’ll come back out here for a breather while he talks to the other survivors. You sing Reaper and then join them all back on the couch for the second half of the interview with all of you.”

“Yeah, I know. I can do this,” she muttered.

NEXT CHAPTER

OR CONTINUE READING ON AO3

#skyfire #skyfire fic #aurora stark #dad!tony #iron dad #step dad steve rogers #stony #stony fic #boyfriend harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #superfamily #harry styles #tony stark #ptsd #domestic fluff

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chilling-seavey · 4 years

Text

Anything But Mine (d.s.) - Chapter Thirty-Two

A/N do you have your popcorn ready? 😉

Saturday, August 29th, 2020

Florence was worried about what the new school year would bring. Having Callum back permanently was an absolute blessing, but she was only hoping that school wouldn’t put another strain on their relationship. With school starting in a few days, frats around the university were throwing huge parties to celebrate and their own little group gladly decided to get together to have a little party of their own. They weren’t like their crazed neighbours who had alcohol constantly pumping through their veins but they liked to have fun for a night sometimes.

Clementine and Penelope were supposed to be taken care of by the Clifford’s but their late work schedules kept the children with their mother for a bit later than planned. No one really minded, though, it only meant Florence couldn’t drink until later. Michael and Luke said they would drive over to pick them up on their way home.

Zach paired his phone with the Bluetooth speaker and playing some arguably trash music, but everyone had agreed that he could be in charge of music so they were stuck. Even still, they managed to tune it out, focussing on their drinks and good company.

Of course, Cayleigh was over as well, finding her usual place on Daniel’s lap with a beer in her hand, her low-cut shirt not leaving much to the imagination. Florence had to elbow Zach multiple times to get his eyes off her chest. Corbyn kept a steady round of drinks going, exchanging someone’s empty for a full can every time he saw one. It was amusing to Florence to watch her friends slowly fall under the influence of the alcohol, the four-week-old fast asleep in her arms despite the music and chatter that was filling the room. Clementine was sat with Jack, which wasn’t unusual, and was the smartest choice anyway since he was the best at handling his alcohol. Every time he got a new drink, he got her to ‘cheers’ with him using her sippy cup of apple juice, making her giggle.

As usual, the conversation got turned to Cayleigh and Daniel’s relationship, Aidan saying a casual, “Well, Cayleigh, you’re here so much you basically live here. I’m guessing things are going well between you two then?”

“How can you tell?” Cayleigh squealed, squishing her face against Daniel’s. He laughed lightly, pressing a kiss to her cheek. Florence watched them with an expressionless stare, and he caught her eye, his smile faltering before he turned away again. Florence looked down at the baby in her arms, rocking her gently, holding the pacifier to her mouth.

Cayleigh, now being brought into a conversation about herself, continued, “I mean we’re so great and there’s still no action but he’s not a virgin. He told me.” She tisked lightheartedly and bluntly, the alcohol clearly hazing her filter.

“You’re not?” Florence couldn’t stop herself before she asked, furrowing her eyebrows at her once so trusting and now seemingly distant best friend. Daniel looked back at her blankly, refusing to give any hint to her through his facial expression that the proof of that fact was sleeping in her arms at that very moment.

“Apparently not!” Cayleigh shrugged, pausing to take a sip of her drink, “I wanna know who the lucky bitch is but I guess I’ll never know. Dani is a bundle of secrets.” The clueless girlfriend slid her arm around his middle, curling into his side as if they could get any closer.

The room fell into awkward silence except for Zach’s techno music playing in the background. Callum stared at his sister who was back to looking at the baby in her arms, eyebrows furrowed with confusion and the slight hurt that always came to the surface when it came to the distance between her and Daniel.

“Well that girl from the bar and I are still going strong.” Jonah said after a moment. “Thanks for asking, guys.”

“Wait, really? You never talk about her.” Corbyn questioned.

“I guess I’m a bundle of secrets too.” Jonah chuckled.

“I’m still pathetically single!” Zach threw his hands up.

“Join the club.” Jack rolled his eyes.

No one noticed the look that Callum and Aidan shared just as the doorbell rang. Clementine’s eyes went big as Jack pushed her to her feet and got up to get it.

“Is that Mikey, Clem?” Florence giggled as the toddler went running after her best friend. When Michael was in sight, Clementine ran right into his arms, gladly being scooped up. The young mother joined them as well as Aidan, greeting the two men happily. Luke took sleeping Penelope, listing to Florence’s gentle instructions even though he knew exactly how to take care of a baby, slinging the diaper bag over his other arm. With a quick goodbye to her daughters, Florence was handed a cooler and helped Jack and Aidan grab some snacks. The rest of the group in the living room was busy chatting away, the three in the kitchen were on their own.

“How’s my brother treating you, Ai?” Florence asked with a smirk, jumping up to sit on the island.

“Fine.” Aidan blushed, avoiding looking in her direction.

“Do you feel the same rush from high school?”

Jack chuckled, glancing between the two of them as Aidan gave her a little shove over teasingly invasive questions.

He answered regardless, “Well it’s easier without someone beating us up every day.”

Florence’s smile faltered and she took a sip of her drink.

“I mean…I just…Matt left us alone after graduation so it was fine by then…when everything changed with you and Clementine…fuck, I’m sorry.” Aidan ran a hand through his hair.

“It’s okay. I get it. I really do.” Florence shook her head through a humourless laugh. “That asshole is gone anyway.”

Jack laughed at that statement, pushing the newly filled bowl of chips in her direction. She thanked him and took one.

“Anymore news from the doctor?” Jack asked casually. Aidan sent him a discreet glare.

“Nothing after the original meeting.” Florence sighed. “Honestly I think they just messed up. If I don’t hear anything soon I’m just going to call a stalemate. I mean she looks a lot like Emilio. The dark hair, light eyes, her little nose. At this point, I just want some form of a steady boyfriend and between him and Grayson he’s the most likely to not hate my guts.”

“Wait, you’re just going to lie and tell Emilio that Penelope is actually his?” Aidan gaped.

“No! God, no. I’d just be honest and tell him I can’t just be friends.” Florence mumbled, staring at the drink in her hands. “He’s always on my mind all the time and he’s so gorgeous and so sweet and I miss the way things were before the baby.”

“I feel like we’re on an episode of the Bachelorette.” Jack said.

“Welcome to how I feel 24/7.” Florence scoffed.

“I’m glad I’m gay.” Aidan mumbled, making the other two friends laugh.

The Bluetooth speaker beeped mid song to indicate that the batteries were low. Florence hoped off the counter and picked it up. “Do you guys have another speaker? We don’t want it to cut out while we’re listening to Zach’s amazing music choices.”

“Yeah, Daniel has some in his room. Top drawer I think.” Jack said.

“Ok, I’ll be back.” Florence headed for the stairs, cooler in hand.

It had been a while since she had been in Daniel’s room, but it was no different than she remembered it. The same dark blue sheets pulled tight over the neatly made bed, the row of his two guitars and cello lining the opposite wall and his music producing equipment leaving little room on the desk. His well used notebook sat on top of his closed laptop and she couldn’t help but glance at the door before flipping it open. The pages were crinkled and worn, the notebook being well used throughout the last year or two and every line was filled with scribbles and notes. It was Daniel’s most personal and prized position and he kept everything he wrote in complete secrecy so Florence felt a touch of guilt by flipping through it, but she couldn’t help it. Each page was filled with love songs or angsty ballads, some written in perfectly straight lines across the pages and some with many scratched out lyrics and notes in the margins.

Not wanting to take too long away from the group, she closed the notebook without getting whatever answers she so desired and made her way to the dresser. She pulled open the top drawer to find a mess of headphones, microphones, drumsticks, guitar picks, and a few speakers.

Sighing, she shuffled through it to find a Bluetooth speaker, placing a few items on the top of the dresser to clear her view. Her finger hooked on something soft, a vast difference from the constant wood and metal that occupied the drawer, and she pulled the item out from the back of the drawer slowly. The black lace panties made Florence drop them back into the drawer quickly, taking a step backwards. When she got over the initial shock, she slowly picked them back up by her thumb and forefinger, holding them a good distance away from her face as she analyzed them. She would recognise her favourite pair of underwear anywhere; the pair that had gone missing after Corbyn’s birthday celebration. When she got home the next morning, they weren’t on her. Why the hell were her used underwear in Daniel’s bedroom drawer?

Florence could feel her heart racing in her chest as she descended the stairs, the underwear hidden in her fist, and her drink forgotten on the dresser. The whole world felt like it was spinning as she walked ever so slowly into the living room. Her friends greeted her casually and she barely comprehended Jack asking where the speaker was. Florence stopped in front of the couch where Daniel sat with Cayleigh still draped over his lap. The two looked up at her, the room falling into silence except for the music still playing in the background. Daniel’s glance fell to her hand, the black lace peeking out from her white-knuckled grip. The colour drained from his face and he slowly looked back up to her expressionless stare as she spoke darkly,

“We need to talk.”

#oooooo #daniel seavey #wdw #why dont we #college!wdw #daniel seavey fanfic #daniel seavey imagines #wdw fanfic #wdw imagines #why dont we fanfic #why dont we imagines #limelight #jonah marais #corbyn besson #zach herron #jack avery #writing #anything but mine #daniel seavey fic

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shy-magpie · 4 years

Text

RQG 154

Wherein red stringing occurs. Liveblog under the cut:

Not much hype this week, just a lot of being quietly thrilled RSB got the beginning of the episode dedicated to us. I hope the rest of the fandom doesn't feel like Bryn plays favorites. Its sweet he back reads and answers questions but its nothing he wouldn't do in official. Last week was such a gift that I think it cut down on hype for this week because even if (Alex forbid) they immediately time skipped to the end of the week, quarantine still got us amazing backstory and character moments. Unless Alex gets truly desperate and has someone attack the inn or infects both the new kids, the characters are safe from physical danger so no fear hype either.

Yes I want follow up on that Hamid & Zolf conversation: I am so proud of him for calling Zolf out on being patronizing (I can't believe I didn't see earlier with his family, of course that's the aspect that got to him) and they need to figure out how to deal with the chain of command. Zolf already seems more willing to get input on his decisions so its mostly losing the attitude when things happen like Hamid casting lights. Yes I also want Cel to talk about themself more, but I am fine with waiting until they aren't locked up with no privacy. Azu's backstory is coming out at a decent pace and Helen spoils us so not even worried about not hearing more about her becoming a paladin. I am curious if Alex thinks its worth bonding with the new kids and this better not be a set up for splitting the party. So enough pre episode babbling, final bets on if they play with the brorb now or wait until they can take it to Cel's? Gotta love that music. Oh they do want to get back to things! Listen to how fast they're talking. That's nice I wouldn't have thought they'd be as excited about the pure RP backstory and character bits as they get about a boss fight. No Alex neither players nor fans want to skip anything. I will concede that further conversation was unlikely to be productive that night so the morning makes sense. There was only one corridor! Barnes is still using the stairs to get some space. Some might see it as a sign he is infected or afraid of infection but honestly not wanting to puppy pile with a group as tight knit as the party especially while they are shaking out their issues is valid. Azu checks on Carter who passed out drunk face down. Zolf is sleeping in. With Hamid's family issues, Bryn being so careful to specify he has a healthy relationship with alcohol every time makes it a lot easier to not tense up listening. Oh My God thanks Bryn! I know he said the beginning of the episode was dedicated to us but I was expecting a throw away line not a proper red stringing scene! I am grinning so big right now. Azu is watching Hamid Cel is sleeping curled up with the sealed bottle of elvish mead. Because Lydia is as much a criminal as Bryn just plays a longer game. Speaking of criminal, Ben really plays up this rivalry from Azu & Zolf covering similar roles and its a really close second to the rank thing between him & Hamid in character arcs I'm interested in. I think both are aiming towards a happy ending but no idea how the middle is going to play out. I don't think it's aiming for a "this party isn't big enough for two of us". Alex is encouraging this. This is great just going to get a clip of this rather than attempt to transcribe on first listen. Bryn/Hamid is laying this out so clearly: The knowns, assumed, and questions are being labeled nicely. (I wonder if our little discord helped him refresh his memory so he'd be able to match how much Hamid would remember in character.) Bryn also goes 3rd person? Hope it isn't a stress tell like Alex. Yes Bryn is obsessed and as a listener its is utterly charming when he shows up in RSB or Official and is unabashedly as big a fan of the show as us. Zolf wakes up to Hamid red stringing. Thank goodness he isn't letting security concerns lead him to putting the brakes on. I know there was some concern that if one of them was infected sharing they could pass on anything they talk about. As long as they don't get too specific about classified info, using the time and frankly just having a project to distract them is a good idea. Plus in my mind Hamid always looks so hurt when Zolf pulls on the reigns. Lilliana is not allowed to be the connecting thread. Oh seed is finally being addressed. Aw Hamid handed Cel a glass of water. It really is the little things I love about this show: 1)told you he has a knack for leadership: anticipating the needs of team members even as they diverge from his own 2)He does see Cel as a team member not just someone he worked with, you don't hear him cooing over Carter 3)does it quickly then moves on, because as a gentleman he thinks it's what anyone would do. 4)speaking of, I wonder that Azu & Zolf haven't done rounds. its not like they have anything to save the spells for and the field is only in the cell.

Svalbard! Do not taunt us, does Ben have any idea how much we want to see the science dwarves of the north? Um hmm, vindi-fing-cation. I know it wasn't exactly a huge insight but the mixture of science and various schools of magic is key to my theory on what “Erasing The Line” refers to. Oh Frankenstein in this world is such a concept. Plus it makes Mary Shelley canon. Aw Alex thought we'd never get to this bit of lore. Thank you Blue Veins info being given as whole instead of bits & pieces. Ooh and Barnes is taking it. Time to get a sense of who he is when he's not swinging a sword. Navel engagement with Blue Veins? Hive mind! Minimize harm? Not dead. Paladins are complicated, maybe a rumor, maybe transfer of allegiance. Cyborg kraken Cyborg Zolf Oh splitting the kraken to make more Barnes just checks out as the conversation goes over his head Called it I told you it was a sensible test. (ETA Zolf’s fart test) (ETA: Re: people with Blue Veins) No lies, no embarrassment, very literal. Other instances? Riots London->Paris->Europe Not safe to go to London If you're in their presence you are highly likely to be infected, mass infections, not passed by corpses? Memetic effect? Tick tock. Ben and Alex have one of their friendly tussles as Carter decides its a me may Yes he did! And Helen name dropped us! I know I'm just a little part of the brigade but I'm going to to be smug for at least a week that we are so good at what we do one of the actual players looked to us. Hey Lydia is welcome too. Paperwork time! Yeah yeah I knew security was going to be used to undermine Hamid. At least it isn't Zolf and they aren't trying to make him look rash for the whole idea. Getting new info from the paperwork is a bit different than talking about what they already know. Make the place bigger? Nice spell Zolf. If this leads to Animorphs again... Oh I was thinking more like a big horde somewhere you could check stone in & out of a stone plane of existence ties in with elemental lore right? Seriously "Cure Hangover" isn't a spell? Or do Zolf & Azu just not approve of using their magic that way? Intoxicants have to fall under mild poisoning, right? Do the studying later in the week? That's a fair compromise; even if Zolf is still presenting it as an order he is explaining instead of giving his advice or IDK putting it to a vote. I'm not positive but I think Lydia is suggesting they go over their character sheets in character. Alex is not amused. Lydia sounds pleased with herself. Perception check? Azu hears someone knocking something over upstairs. Azu tries to not wake Carter as she listens at the door. It had to be her foot in his mouth. Multiple people in the inn. Carter tries to pick the lock. Azu & Carter start bickering. Carter is perception penalty. The inn is being searched Zolf suggests they wake Wilde up by making a racket. Cel hears the door being unlocked. Voices speaking muffled Japanese. Cel just shouts "Hey what's going on?". Zolf joins in. Azu uses her armor to make noise. Thump of someone hitting the floor! Wilde's voice! Lots of feet? Yes Helen, what if it is the kobolds? Oh god what if Skraak checked on them and found out they were in cages underground? Poor guy would think Wilde is their Shoin. Bryn clarifies Hamid shouts out to Wilde Zolf forbids them leaving the basement Cel shields themself. Azu goes for her armor Barnes is keeping Carter from going for the lock again. Hamid casts Fear (!oh that’s a new one isn't it) I assume #jail is already full of angst criminals connecting Hamid's bully days and him going from S1!Hamid scared of every fight to now casting fear as a way to control his enemies). Also these better be his enemies because I still don't put it past Alex to set us up for a tragic misunderstanding. Dragon roar and dragon face is how he casts fear Ok Rusty Quill LOTR night sounds awesome Zolf helps Azu put on her armor The other feet flee Zolf cries out for Wilde as loud as he physically can but still won't let them risk infecting Japan by leaving quarantine early. Oh if that ain't a fic and a half. A set of small claws! It is a kobold End the episode with the kobolds?

#Rusty Quill Gaming #RQG Spoilers #live blog thingy #RQG 154 #RQG season 4 #long post

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queenmendes · 5 years

Text

new life chapter pt. 2

Summary: Y/N is a young actress; already one of the most known in the industry, She started out on Marvel, playing Feuer (Foi yer) Stark, the adopted daughter of Tony Stark; now with that coming to an end, she is ready to start a new chapter in her life. Who knew it would all begin with a livestream?

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: I do not like how this chapter turned out at all, I rewrote this like 3 times but I wanted to get the next part up for you guys. Also, a little back story: her character in the Avengers name is Feuer, which means fire in German, and her powers consist of basically being able to manipulate and create fire; just to clear up anything because I do make a nickname that relates to that! And later in the chapter, I did mention Y/N having a brother so I am sorry if you don't have one, I kinda based some of the life on my own because I didn't know what else to say. Thank you for the response on the first chapter and I hope you like this one! xxxx

Part 1

The day after the premiere you were on your way to the airport for a flight to London. You would be doing a few interviews in a couple days and decided to take an early trip to see the city. Next to you in the car with your team, was your B/F/N, who has been visiting you for the past week; you thought London would be a nice trip since you have never had time to explore the city the previous times you have been.

“So,” B/F/N stared saying, turning her body to look at you. “Shawn Mendes tweeted you.” She stated.

“Yeah, after I completely embarrassed myself on my own livestream and admitted how hot he was.” Your sarcasm coming out to hide your embarrassment.

“Well, did you say anything else to him?” She pushed. Everyone else in the car stopping whatever they were doing to look at you.

“Oh my god, why is everyone looking at me?” You asked, shocked at all the eyes on you from one simple question.

“Well, did you?” Stacy had a smirk on her face.

“He messaged me after I replied and said he was a fan of my work too and that he would love to meet up if we are ever in the same city and have free time.” You shrugged. Everyone’s smile grew wider at each word you spoke.

“Honey, you do know that he is in London right now for a 3-day concert, right?” Angie, your manager said. You shook your head at her, not knowing that at all.

“Oh my god. You have to go to his concert.” Chris stated, and look at Angie, “See if you can get some tickets.” He said, not even brothering to wait for your reply. The whole team immediately started typing away on their phones as you just sat there, knowing nothing you say will get them to stop. Thankfully, the car stops outside the airport after a few minutes, causing them to stop their research and get out. When you entered the airport, your path veered to the fans that had huddled together; the Canadian Rockstar going to the back of your mind.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The next day, after landing, you were getting ready to join the rest of the team for dinner. Your outfit consisted of light, high-waisted skinny jeans with a black cami top and a light, fluffy brown jacket over it; black ankle boots on your feet. Your makeup with simple and natural while your hair was in a loose bun with two strands framing your face. As you join everyone else in the lobby, their conversation went quiet as you approached but you didn’t think anything of it.

After making it to the restaurant and being seated, you noticed that everyone was exchanging looks and smiles. Having enough, you set the menu down.

“Alright, what is going on?” You bluntly asked, looking at each person. They all exchanged looks once again.

“We have a surprise for you later; I think you are going to like it.” Angie smiled mischievously. Not remembering the conversation for the day earlier, you just shrugged and continued scanning the menu. Now, what to eat?

“I don’t understand why I have to wear this stupid blindfold.” Was not a statement you thought you’d be saying about an hour later as Chris tied the cloth around your eyes. Everyone ignored your grumbling and started leading you to the destination. You sighed but let them, hoping they weren’t going to let you fall flat on your face. The further you walked, the more noise you heard meaning a bunch of people were all around.

“Okay, now just stand right here. Only a few more minutes.” B/F/N said as you stopped moving, Chris’s hands leaving your shoulders.

“Come on, guys, please?” You begged. The group went quite for a moment.

“Fine.” Stacy said and then someone untied the blindfold and took it away from your eyes. It took a moment to adjust to the dim lights around you but when you do, your eyes go wide and a smile spreads across your lips. Infront of you was a stage with multiple instruments; behind it all, on a big screen was a concert logo reading: Shawn Mendes: The Tour.

“What?” You shrieked loudly, turning to your friends with a bright smile; each person had their own at your reaction.

Before you could say anything else, the lights went low and screams were heard all around you; as the colorful intro video came to an end, a body emerged from under the stage as the music to Lost in Japan played. Throughout the night, you dance and singed, even cried a little but it was amazing. He was even better live, and you were glad to experience it. As the show came to an end, the confetti still floating in the air as the last chord was played and the man of the hour bided everyone goodbye before disappearing.

“He was so good.” You were amazed. The passion in his entire performance was breathtaking. Everyone nodded their head. After gathering your things, you all began to make your way towards the exit but stopped as a few people recognized you and asked for pictures. You happily agreed. As you were occupied with fans, a man approached Angie and they began speaking quietly.

“Y/N, come on, I have another surprise.” Angie said, motioning for you to follow her and the man. You waved goodbye before following her; the rest of the team behind you. The group was led through the brick halls of the arena and after a few minutes, dozens of people came into sight. One, however, outstood all of them, literally. He smiled as the two of you made eye contact and you had to remind yourself to keep your composure as Chris nudge you.

“Hi.” You simply said, a bashful smile and blush on your face. You shared a friendly hug, that last longer than any other would have but you weren’t complaining. His large hands rest on your back as his arms squeezed around you; your head pressed against his chest slightly. God, he was more handsome in person.

“It’s so nice to meet you. I’m a huge fan of your work.” He complimented as you pulled away but neither bothering to put much space in between each other.

“The show was amazing; you were amazing.” You praised the singer in front of you and this time he was the one to blush.

“That means so much, thank you.” He truthfully spoke before gesturing for you to follow him. Shawn led you down the hallway until walking into what looked like a dressing room. He sat down on the couch that was in the room; motioning for you to join him. You sat, with one leg underneath you and slightly turned towards him. Everyone followed in behind, but neither of you paid attention to them.

“So.” Shawn said, turning his body towards you as well, looking dead serious “What happens in Endgame?” You let out a laugh, not expecting the question. Shawn starring at you with a smile. She is even more beautiful in person. He thought as you laughed.

“You aren’t getting anything out of me. Not even with a face like yours.” You had a teasing smile on your face as he mocked hurt. Conversation took off from there. The two of you talked and teased each other for the next two hours. Flirty remarks throw back and forth; neither noticed the time until Andrew, Shawn’s manager, spoke up.

“Hey, we have to leave the arena so they can clean.” Andrew interrupted. Your lip forming a small pout and Shawn looked like he wanted to protest but instead got up and offered you his hand. As people began packing up the room, Shawn lead you into the hallway away from the commotion.

“I really enjoyed talking to you tonight.” Shawn smiled. You gave him one back. “How long are you in London for?” He asked.

“I have the next 2 days free. Why?” You asked, hoping he would be staying too and want to hang out again. Your hopes were answered.

“How about I show you what London has to offer tomorrow?” His expression hopeful for you to agree. It took everything in you not to melt at his cute, hopeful look.

“I would love that.” You agreed. He perked up in excitement. The two of you exchanged numbers as your team walked out, their things in hand. The two of you share a hug before you waved goodbye, walking down the hallway, out of the arena. The smile never leaving your face; or his.

++++++++++++++++++

The next morning, you woke up later than normal; since you had nothing planned expect meeting with Shawn later, you decided to watch Netflix on your laptop. After washing your face and brushing your teeth you were bundled back up in the sheets, Archie Andrews appearing on the screen as a random episode of Riverdale started playing. Not even ten minutes into the episode, your door burst open and walked in B/F/N and Chris; both looking at you like you had three heads.

“What the hell are you doing?” B/F/N asked, gesturing towards your current position in a blanket burrito.

“Watching Riverdale.” Your tone confused as to why she was asking what she can clearly see.

“Why? Why? Why?” She repeated as she came over to your side, pausing the show and ripping the blankets off you. A whine left your lips as your body curled into a ball as the cold air made itself known. She grabbed your arms and pulled up into a sitting position.

“What is happening?” You asked, looking at Chris for help but he just laughs before making his way to the closet that had your clothes hanging neatly.

“Shawn Mendes asked to show you London today. Shawn fucking Mendes. Fucking London.” She slowly said as if you were a child. “You have to look good today.” She began leading you into the bathroom connected to the room and started the shower; she would’ve stripped you of your clothes herself, but you put your foot down. Deciding to do what she wanted, you hopped in the shower, relaxing under the hot water.

You walked out of the bathroom once you were done, a towel tightly wrapped around your body and hair. B/F/N and Chris had three outfits laid on the bed and once you got into their sight, began barking orders at you.

“Guys, he hasn’t even texted me a time yet. Can you calm down? You’re making me nervous” You said as B/F/n threw some skimpy underwear at you while wiggling her eyebrows. You tossed it back at her, shaking your head.

“Actually, he did while you were showering.” Chris said and that’s when you noticed your phone in his hand. You snatched it from his hand and looked at the screen to see 3 text from Shawn.

Curly-Haired God: Good morning!

Curly-Haired God: I was thinking we could meet around noon for lunch and then go exploring?

Curly-Haired God: That is if you still want to?

You smiled at the words; sensing his nerves that you were similarly feeling. You typed your reply.

Fireball: Good morning to you xo

Fireball: Lunch sounds great!

Oh, maybe the xo was too much, you mentally panicked a little, but it stopped as your phone buzzed in your hand.

Curly-Haired God: Sounds great hun, see you in a bit xo

As you looked up, you noticed Chris and B/F/N reading over your shoulders with smiles of their own. You looked at the time and saw that it read 11:13.

“Okay, now we can rush to get me ready.” You said, calmly placing your phone down. You walked over to the outfits they had selected and being debating which to wear as the other two in the room started getting everything else you (they) would need.

Chris sat you down in a chair and began brushing and blow drying your hair. You decided to curl it slight, leaving it in a soft set of waves. Your makeup was natural; just foundation, mascara with a pink nude lip and a bit of highlight. Finally deciding on the outfit that consisted of a thick, knitted white sweater with light washed, distressed skinny jeans and your black ankle boots. Finishing the look with a three layered, gold necklace that had a crescent moon, your zodiac constellation and coin with a lion in the center of it.

“Damn, you look good.” Chris complimented as you placed medium size hoops in your ears. You smile in thanks. You checked the time and it read 12:07. B/F/N set down a small black purse next to you and sat on the bed next to you. About a minute later, there was a knock on the door. Assuming it was Angie, you opened it but were surprised to see Shawn standing there, his signature smile on his face. You returned the smile, stepping aside to let him in.

“Hey.” He greeted, pulling you into a hug. “You look beautiful.” A blush was present on your cheeks at the compliment. You pulled away from him.

“Thank you.” You smiled. “You look great too.” He really did in his black jeans with his regular black boots; he had on a Tommy Hilfiger hoodie on and his hair was a perfect mess of curls. You moved to grab your purse, swinging it over you shoulder as Shawn greeted the other two people in the room. Already knowing the look on Chris’ face(he was ready to embarrass you somehow), you quickly said goodbye and grabbed Shawn’s hand, pulling him down the hall to the elevators.

“Sorry, I already knew Chris was going to do the ‘big brother’ pep talk on you.” You said as the elevator doors opened to get in. Shawn chuckled and shook his head. “So, what does my amazing tour guide have planned for us today?” You cheekily smiled.

“Oh, that’s a surprise.” He smiled back before pulling you out of the elevator and hotel.

+++++++++++++++++++

You were seated across from each other in the local Italian restaurant that Shawn found. You had both just ordered and were now just talking.

“Tell me something no one else knows about you.” Shawn placed his drink down as you thought of your answer.

“I am deathly scared of alligators.” You randomly said. Shawn laughs at your random answer, not expecting it.

“And why is that?”

“If you are in water, it can get you. If you are on land, it can get you. Alligators are double threats.” You stressed your answer. Shawn smiles as you rant about alligators. You blushed when you realized he was staring at you in amusement. “Tell me, Shawn Mendes, what is your favorite movie?” He hums in thought.

“Definitely Harry Potter.” He answered pridefully. You smile at his answer.

“I bet you are a Hufflepuff.” Shawn gasped in offense.

“No. No. No.” He repeated, shaking his head in denial. Gosh, he looked cute with his curls flying everywhere.

“Why does everyone think I’m house Hufflepuff?” You smiled at his serious expression.

“Because, Hufflepuff’s are about hard work and dedication, which you completely are based on the amazing success you’ve had. They are incredibly friendly, and I’ve never seen someone as friend as you in the short time I’ve known you.” You explained you reasoning and suddenly for Shawn, it wasn’t so bad to be a Hufflepuff. “But you could be a Ravenclaw. They are creative and sharp-minded and have wisdom and intelligence. You are all those things. Honestly, you could fit in any house, I think.” Shawn smiled.

“You like Harry Potter?” He finally asked after a moment of silence. You shrugged.

“Well, who doesn’t?” You rhetorically joked. “My brother is a really big fan, so we watched them a lot when I was growing up and I read the books so I would know what was happening.” You explained.

“Do you have any other siblings besides a brother?” He asked.

“No, just Y/B/N. He is 5 years older than me.” You said. “What about you? Any siblings?” You asked. He nodded as his smile got bigger.

“I have a little sister, Aaliyah.” Shawn proudly spoke. The waiter brought out your food; both of you getting pastas. As you dug in, you continued asking questions back and forth to each other; some serious and personal, others goofy and random. Once you were done eating, you began walking the streets of London after a very heated argument with Shawn about who would pay, which you proudly won.

Shawn took you to first to the tourist sights, such as Big Ben, Buckingham Palace and the London Eye. Currently, you were inside one of the carts on the London Eye as it rotated closer to the top; you are watching the city in awe from the view, while Shawn watched you. He couldn’t take his eyes off you as that beautiful smile appeared on your face as you watched the city below you. The soft look in your eyes made him melt.

“It’s beautiful.” You whispered and Shawn wouldn’t have heard you if he wasn’t standing so close to you. His chest lightly pressed against your shoulder as you held on to the railing. The ride slowly taking you back down to the ground.

“Yes, it is.” He said, but never took his eyes off you. You noticed this out of the corner of your eye and blushed, looking down but didn’t say anything. He subconsciously grabbed your hand as you exited the cart and began leading you into to the London Underground after a minute of walking.

“Where are we going now?” You asked as you both stood in the train, holding onto one of the poles. You didn’t even realize that he still held you hand with the one not holding on, but you did not mind.

“I figured, if you are as cool of a person as I think you are, that means you must like the Beatles.” Shawn explained, and you nodded in agreement that you did in fact enjoy the old band. “Everyone needs to see Abbey Road.” He elaborated. You smiled in excitement to see the iconic crossing. It was only about a 5 minutes ride before you were exiting the underground. He wasn’t wrong. Abbey road was a must see and it was fun to see people doing the iconic position to replicate the album cover. You and Shawn even took a few photos too; for goofy than serious.

+++++++++++++++++++++++

“You know, for someone how had no idea where to go today, you were a really good tour guide.” You said as Shawn lead you back into the hotel you were staying at.

“I knew exactly what I was doing.” He argued. You just looked at him, unconvinced. “Okay, so I had nothing planned today.” He pouted.

“No, no. My dad always told me the best things are the unplanned ones.” You smiled at him before pressing the button to the elevator. “So, what do you have planned for the night now?’ You asked.

“Best things happen unplanned, someone told me” He smiled cheekily as the doors opened.

“Do you want to maybe, order some food and watch Netflix with me?” You nervously asked as the elevator began moving. “I mean, you probably are tired and...” You started but he stopped you.

“No, no, I would love to.” Shawn said. “I really enjoy hanging out with you.” And so, for the next couple of hours, the two of you watched Friends and learned even more about each other. Neither wanting the day to end.

Taglist: @mjthehbic @feliciaceciliamariajacobsson @andibecamethestars

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