#in the end i finally got up because i realized i left my coffee canister open on the counter

[lunarlegend]

-finally eats for the first time today at 9pm-

[blueberrypossum]

A Colorful Massacre  Mickey x Reader

Hey guys!!! Yup, it’s Mickey’s turn to be placed in the love boat. This story is going to be a little different than my previous ones( sorry no making out and such). This story is based on one of the scenes from the movie Harley Quinn: Birds of Prey. I really like the action scenes, especially where Harley goes into the police station and I thought it would be a perfect fit( some scenes will be altered and so will dialogue). Hope you guys enjoy it! Also, I might’ve made the reader a little bit crazy, I try to change up the personalities with each reader to give each writing a difference.

Word Vocabulary:

(F/C)- Favorite color (these will be labeled 1 and 2 because you’ll need two signature colors, like Harley Quinn with red and blue)

(L/N)- Last name 

⚠️WARNING⚠️: There are some cuss words and graphic content (such as fight scenes, gore, and even death.)

You rechecked the location on your phone before you headed over to one the many police stations in the Hidden City, your hands checking to make sure you had everything. Of course the Mud Dogz had to get caught on their last heist, their faces being plastered all over the city in the announcement of their capture. You huffed in a gust of air as the annoyance almost gave you a headache.

Of course those idiots had to get caught on your week off. 

They all crossed your mind in a series of flashes, the picture of Mickey instantly stopping and staining your eyes. The eel somehow wrapped his long body around your heart, literally, if he could he would. You never thought you would go for the hippie type, but hey, in your opinion it was the best option. 

You strapped your gloves on tighter as you finally made it to the police station they were being held at, the enormous building almost touching the dirt surface. Police officers walked around you as you made your way to the front door, not even taking notice of you or your long coat that covered you. You brushed your hand through your hair and waved your fingers at a passing guard, who couldn’t help but stare as you burst yourself through the front doors. 

You were always the one to make a grand entrance.

The waiting area was almost completely empty, except for one yokai in one of the waiting chairs and the police officer behind the counter. 

Oh this is too easy.

You casually walked over to the yokai that was sitting; a young woman who was casually reading a newspaper. She eyes you as you get closer and how lazily bent over, your lips barely hovering over her ear as you whisper unholy nothings into her ear. The woman slowly got up, terror crossing through her face as she left her newspaper and made her way out of the station. You waved goodbye to her and headed towards the cop at the front counter, the officer instantly took notice of your choice of outfit. 

Even with the male officer seeing you coming, you rang the bell next to him anyways, giving him a bright smile as he looked up. 

He let out a long sigh as he questioned, “Can I help you?”

You leaned your elbows onto the counter as you stated, “Yes, good ol’ officer, I’m here to report terrible crime.” You tipped your sunglasses down to show the sarcastic wink you gave him. 

The officer took the wink as some kind of joke and relaxed his shoulders and leaned back in his chair. 

“And what terrible crime is that?”

And with that you pulled your long coat back, revealing the multiple canisters of paint, confetti, hacky sacks, and smoke bombs strapped against your chest, along with a shotgun to use those canisters as ammo. You stripped yourself of your sunglasses as you pulled your shotgun off of your shoulder.

You aimed it at him as you stated, “This one.”

The male yokai quickly went for his gun, but you were just a little faster; you shot a red hacky sack right between his eyes, not only knocking him back but also breaking his glasses. 

As he went slack against the wall, you took your coat off to give you more room to work as you rounded off to the side, letting yourself through the ringing metal detector. 

“Alright, now let’s have some fun.”

You reloaded your shotgun with another hacky sack and headed over to two yokai’s, one being a bird and the other being a dog, both enjoying a cup of coffee. You cocked the weapon at the bird yokai and gave him a wicked smile. 

“Hiya boys.” And shot the red footbag at the officer. The eagle went flying backwards as you went for the dog officer, you leg swinging the coffee out of his hands and then used the underside of the shotgun to knock him out. 

You reloaded the weapon again with your (F/C 1) smoke bomb and aimed it to one of the closest meeting halls, shooting the beautiful color and then slammed the door shut, quickly sliding a door under the handle. The banging against the door filled your ears as cops started to realize what exactly was happening, a crazy yokai was storming through the police station and no one has stopped them yet. Two more yokai ran towards you and with a few swift moves you shot one with confetti and another with (F/C 2), sending a female yokai through one of the windows into an office. You looked at the chaos around you and let out a light chuckle. 

Oh, this is going to be fun indeed.

---------------------------------------------------------

“Mick, I don’t think you can chew the bars off with your teeth.”

“Well, you don’t see Danny putting his teeth to work!”

“Hey! I ain’t ruinin’ these pearly whites.”

The Mud Dogs slid down against the bars as they, once again, ran out of ideas to bust out of jail. They had been stuck at the police station for over a few hours now, each one of their usual plans for busting out no longer worked due to them reusing those plans over and over. 

The electric eel would twiddle his thumbs if he had any, so would create little sparks between his little nubs, the power reducing collar around his neck taking away most of his shocking abilities. They were in all separate cages as well and were with about a dozen other prisoners. With the police station being enormous, the three men had a clear view from the front entrance all the way out to the evidence locker. 

The ogre rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms and Danny let out a low gust of air as he pulled his arms out of the bars and let them hang. 

Mickey let out a bored sigh as a guard walked past, a ugly frown over her face as she eyed the members of the Mud Dogs. Leonard growled as she walked past and the officer quickly made her way to the next section, Mickey couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at the sight.

 “Easy now, Double L, you might scare her off.”

 Mickey let his mind start to wonder and he instantly thought of you. He would be hanging out with you if he wasn’t in jail, both of you either playing games or walking the streets and stealing other yokai’s wallets. Before you came along, the eel never thought that he would find someone like you, especially someone who has gotten the best of him. But, after you successfully saw right through one of his stealing tricks, he felt like it was love at first sight. Of course, it took a lot of trust, and the rule to not steal from each other after the 20th time of doing so, for the both of you to begin a friendship. Now, Mickey gave you anything he stole that he thought you would like. 

A sudden scream came from the front entrance and almost every prisoner looked up, even some getting up and tried to look through the bars. Mickey didn’t pay much attention to it since it was the police station after all, it was probably someone’s first time getting arrested and they were just having a fit. Danny was trying to peek through the bars and a small gasp escaped this throat. 

“Holy shit! Mick, is that your dame?”

Mickey was in awe as you reloaded your shotgun as officers from the opposite side of the holding area started to race out and you perfectly aimed for the first yokai that came up to you first, easily shooting a blue hacky sack into his right shoulder. As he went down, you effortlessly put in another bag and instantly headshot the cop behind him. 

Both Leonard and Mickey hopped up from their spot as other prisoners got interested in the commotion. At the front of the entrance to the cages, (F/C 1 and F/C 2) pooled around the floor as an officer yokai was tossed into the middle of the row of cages. And within the clouds of colors popped out you, the colors ever so fading into your clothes and hair as a devilish smile spread across your face. 

Both Danny and Leonard rolled their eyes at the eel’s starstruck expression, of course they were going to be saved by you, you were the only one crazy enough to come here and go up against several cops alone. They were just shocked that you had made it this far without getting shot. 

The eel could feel his tail curl in content as he watched you take on another two guards, moving your hands to the middle of the gun to hit the one closest to you with the grip of the gun. You hit the wooden end against the yokai’s nose a few times before you turned your attention to the other cop, throwing the gun right between his legs. 

As you made your way out of the colorful gas, the male yokai you shot in the shoulder got up, his fingers pulling out his plastic paton and raced towards you. You quickly ducked as he missed the target and then swung your shotgun over your shoulder, twirling it until it directly aimed at the officer, and a bust of confetti exploded against his face. 

“Hahahahahaahah. Oh wow.”

You let out a cackle as he let out a cry and you swing your gun against his head, instantly knocking him out. 

The prisoners were screaming your name now, not in cheer, but in hate. They knew who you were, they knew who you worked for, and they knew they would rather have you caught than their own freedom. 

You reloaded your shotgun just in time as a female officer came down the stairs, her tail swishing back and forth in anger as she pulled out her gun. You used your longer gun to push her arm away, the bullet meant for your head busted into the ceiling, your strength barely being about to hold the woman’s arm against the wall. You kicked her behind her knee and twisted her arm as she came down, using her back as a stable place to aim as another officer came from the smoke behind you, the paint canister smashing into his head, two different colors blending into the walls. 

You brought your shotgun down against the female yokai’s head and watched as her body went limp on the ground, a sweaty breath escaping your throat as you waited for more cops to come and stop you. When none showed up, you took in the room around you, smiling as you saw the Mud Dogz, and then finally heard the other criminals roaring at you in rage. 

“You stole my life-savings!”

“Hiya, puddin,” you purred as your boyfriend stared at you, blush crossing his cheeks as took in your beaten and overworked body, how the colors you chose for your smoke bombs brighten the shine in your eyes. 

“You’re the reason why I’m in here!”

You gave a polite wave to everyone as you made over to Mickey’s cage, blood staining your teeth as you smiled at him. 

“Hey, lovebugs, we still need to get out of here,” he grumbled, his eyes swinging over to the furious yokai’s in the cages, trying to make as much racket as they could so that anyone could hear them. 

“Just hold on for one second, sweethearts.” You said and then rammed the handle of your gun into the closest criminals throat, before he could even utter your name. The male yokai choked a few times as you repeatedly slammed the shotgun into his throat. You then crashed your gun into the side of his head and then into his leg, bringing him down. The next culprit charged towards you and you instantly got ready, your boyfriend immediately knowing what you were going to do. 

“Right, just give a minute to find a key,” you said and was about to start the search for keys, until a pounding alarm came on, causing you and almost everyone else to cover their ears. One of the officers, too afraid to come and face you, went to the control room instead and got the brilliant idea to unlock all the cages, except for the Mud Dogz. When the ringing stopped, you looked up to see the prisoners crawl out of their cages, sinister smiles on their faces as you were outmatched from 12 to one. You rolled your shoulders and popped your neck as you looked back at the Mud Dogz with a smirk.

Oh how you were a walking masterpiece was all he could think in his mind until Leonard bursted inside his bubble. 

“Batter up!” The eel warned, and your gun went straight into his mouth as you rocked the weapon as a baseball bat. The yokai went flying and the strength behind the blow made him flip over, barely missing his head as he landed on the floor. With you being out of ammo for your shotgun, you threw it across the room, hitting a female yokai in the stomach and then jumped her, your legs wrapping around her as you hands went for her throat.

“Hey! I’m going as fast as I can! I already dealt with the officers up front!” You hollered as a pair of hands went around your throat and slammed you against the prison bars, the cold metal drilling into your back. You spat the leftover blood in your mouth into his face and then slammed your elbow into his elbow pit and twisted his arm until he went limp in your arms. 

“Ah, Mick, your doll is pretty, violent,” the rat said, his eyes growing wide as your fist made contact with someone’s face and then groin area. 

“Yeah, isn't it amazing?” The ell cooed, both of the Mud Doz crew disgusted to see a little drool dripping out of his mouth. 

You then slid under a female cat yokai and to one of the unconscious officers and dug through their pockets. Luck seemed to be on your side as you found the keycard, and then you found fingers digging into your arms as two prisoners pulled you back and tossed you across the room.

You blinked a few times to see a few figures coming towards you, barely being able to make out their faces. You quickly tried to make out the Mud Dogz and then slid the keycard over to the closest cage that they were in before a female hyena punched you in the gut. Danny was the closest and he used his tail to bring the card closer, working his fingers fast as the criminals got closer to you. The rat tossed the card to Mickey as he went over to help you, his claws already tearing into one of the prisoner's back that was closest to him. Mickey used the card to get the collar off and then to unlock the door, tossing the plastic card over to Leonard as he slithered over to the battle. 

The ogre gripped the bars around him, “Yeah, but we are losing time. Y/N needs to get the keys and us out before more show up!”

A grunt escaped your lips as you rubbed your head from the impact. You could feel a hard headache start to form in the back of your skull as you tried to take in your surroundings, someone was yelling your name.

You were being choked out during all of this, red slowly starting to cover your face as you lost the will to breath. You kicked the female in the stomach but she didn’t budge.

The strong hands released you and you crawled away to see Mickey curl around the female hyena, instantly shocking her once her hands left your body. You took in a few gulps of air and watched as the Mud Dogz took care of the rest of the prisoners. You let out a breathy laugh and laid yourself back down, allowing yourself to take a break during all the chaos. 

“Y/N! Y/N! Get up!”

“Come onnnn. Budge motherfucker,” you gasped out, and the hyena yokai let out a raspy cackle as her fingers dug deeper into your throat. 

Mickey was beside you as you took the well-deserved break, his flippers fanning you as Leonard and Danny picked up the cops electric guns.

You looked around, the sprinkle of rainbow confetti, paint, and the smoke from the canisters. The floor was littered with bodies, both cops and criminals knocked out or were whining against the concrete. Your nose was bleeding and bruises painted your body, but the thrill that traveled through your body was an excellent adrenaline high. 

“May I join?”

“Did I do good?” You rasped out and the eel helped you up. 

“Huh, I guess you’re right. No one messes with Y/N fucking L/N!”

“Just take me to that new restaurant downtown and we’ll call it even.”

“Of course, babe! I mean, look at the mess!”

The teal eel planted a kiss on your cheek as he helped you stay steady on your feet, a laugh wheezing out of his throat at you cursing your own name. 

“Pretty sure they’ll be waiting there, let’s go through the back.”

You both regrouped with Danny and Leonard and started to head over to where you came from, but Leonard stopped you all. 

“We owe you big time for this.”

As the rat and ogre made their way towards the back, the long eel took a hold of your hand and pulled you close, a little giggle escaping your lips as you both enjoyed a tender kiss. 

[nothingbutimagines]

Elizabeths (Chapter III)

Pairing: Bad boy!Peter Parker x Reader

Warning: Cursing, death, mentions of suicide

Summary: Y/n is part of her high school’s most powerful and most popular clique, but she disapproves of the other girls’ behavior. When Y/n meets the new boy in school, Peter Parker, and begins dating him, what she has known to be her clique begins to unravel. Starting with the death of the clique leader, Liz Allan, one by one, people Y/n doesn’t like begin to die by her and Peter’s hands. Soon, she realizes that Peter is killing students he hates and begins to try to foil his plans, all while clashing with the new clique leader, Elizabeth “Betty” Brant.

Author: Dizzy

A/N: This is a Peter Parker AU I thought of doing. It’s a Heathers AU!!! This is going to follow a similar plot to Heathers, but of course, I won’t keep everything the exact same. Here, we meet our protaganist, Y/n, and our love interest, JD Peter.

Masterlist Request Any Of These Peter Parker/Tom Holland Masterlist

__________________

Dear Diary,

Another waking hour of wondering if Liz is really going to put an end to my social life. I spent all night wondering how I’d end her life, how I would rid the world of Liz Allan’s existence. I do want to do it, deep down. I think part of me is too much of a pussy to lay a hand on her, but I just wish I could live in a world without Liz Allan. 

You watched as Peter held the two little sticks of metal in the lock on the handle of Liz’s back patio door. You could feel the tension radiating off of him and knew by the way his shoulders stayed raised in their place and his fingers were white at the knuckles, that he had been pissed off and angry since your discussion the night before.

The door creaked open slowly, the sound finally breaking the silence between you as Peter turned, his jacket flapping open to reveal the shirt of some band you’d never heard of. 

“Are you sure she’s even here? I don’t hear anyone.” Peter finally spoke, taking a step through the threshold as you held your breath, following him in. 

“Trust me. She skips the Saturday morning trip to church even when she’s not hungover.” You replied, your voice above a whisper. 

“Well, then let’s whip up a little concoction that will have her spewing red, white, and blue, shall we?”

You chuckled quietly, giving him a light shove as you pushed past him and made your way to the refrigerator as he made his way to the sink. You could hear him pushing around canisters before shutting a cabinet as you pulled out a carton or milk and a bottle or orange juice. 

You set the two bottles down on the counter, looking up to see Peter with his back turned to you as you tapped your fingers on the counter top. 

“What about orange juice and milk? What’s the upchuck factor on that?” You asked, a smirk on your face as Peter finally turned to you. 

“I’m more of a Fabuloso man, myself.” He grinned, holding up the bottle of blue floor cleaner. 

“Don’t be a dick,” You rolled your eyes, “that stuff will kill her.”

“Nah, it won’t.” Peter chuckled. “It’ll just clean her insides a little bit, maybe clean up that bitchy attitude of hers. I don’t know if you’ve ever been in a Hispanic market, but those old ladies say this shit’ll clean anything.”

“Oh, shut up, jerk.”

You both made queasy eye contact for a moment before you put your hands on the carton and bottle in front of you, pulling them to your chests and lifting them up as Peter turned away, grabbing glasses from the cabinet as you shut the refrigerator door.

You bent down behind the kitchen island, opening up the cabinet as you looked through the various non-perishables. 

“How about we cook up some soup and put a Coke in it? Chicken Noodle or Bean-and-Bacon?” You asked, lifting your head up to look at Peter, who now had the Fabuloso in a beer mug. 

“Man, Y/n, pull the plug on that shit. I say we go with Big Blue here.” 

You stared at the glass, watching the blue liquid slosh around as he shook the mug in your face. It was almost as if he was hypnotizing you and you were scared by your own homicidal thoughts he was arousing deep in the back of your mind. You blinked quickly and shook your head, shutting the cabinet and straightening up on your feet.

“What are you doing? You can’t just hand her that...She’s never drink something that looks like that.”

You opened up the refrigerator again, once again grabbing the milk and juice and making your way to where Peter stood at the opposite end of the kitchen. You set down the drinks and looked up at him as he gazed into the cupboard, looking for a cup. 

“Okay we’ll just use this.” He set down a mug with a lid down on the counter. “She won’t be able to see what she’s drinking.”

Peter chuckled to himself as he poured the contents of the beer mug into the smaller container, the clink of the lid hitting the lip of the mug the only sound in the eerie silence between you. 

“You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” 

You groaned, taking down your own identical mug and pouring orange juice and milk into it before strutting back to the refrigerator, the carton and bottle in hand. You made your way back to the counter, your footsteps angry before you stopped beside Peter. 

“Milk and orange juice...” You muttered softly, “Hmm...maybe we cough up a phlegm globber in it or something.”

“Yeah, great.”

You both began coughing harshly, inhaling sharply through your noses as you attempted to get something to come up your throats. 

“Nothing?” 

Peter shook his head and chuckled, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Well, milk and orange juice will do quite nicely then. Quite nicely.” 

You gathered up the array of cups and cleaning solution Peter left on the counter and put the dirty cups in the sink and the cleaning solution back under.

“I’m sorry.” Peter said finally as his arm snaked around your waist and his kissed your neck.

You hummed softly, your eyes fluttering closed as you smiled.

“Bonehead.” 

Dreamily, you grabbed a mug and began making your way out of the kitchen. 

“Uh, hey, Y/n?” Peter called, stopping you in your tracks. 

“Yes?” You turned to him, the mug clutched between your hands. 

“Uh, nothing. I’ll carry the cup.” 

Dear Diary,

If I wanted to kill Liz, I wouldn’t have done it with Peter. No way. I never really wanted to kill Liz, that has always been my teenage angst, my stupid teenage anger just saying that was what I wanted. I don’t even know what I truly wanted, but it sure wasn’t this.

“Good morning, Liz.” Your voice was sickly sweet as you approached the end of the girl’s bed, stirring her from her sleep.

Liz sat up, her hair a bit disheveled and her red scrunchie almost falling off as she studied both you and Peter. 

“Y/n. And Eric Harris. Quelle surprise.” She scoffed, turning her head to Peter, “Did you hear about Y/n’s affection for regurgitation?”

“Come on, Liz, we both said a lot of things we didn’t mean last night.”

“Did we?” Liz questioned,  pulling the scrunchie from her hair and slipping it onto her wrist. “How the hell did you get in here?”

“Y/n knew you’d have a hangover, so I whipped this up. Family recipe.” Peter cut in, holding the mug out to Liz.

“What? Did you put a phlegm globber in it or something? I’m not drinking that piss.”

“I knew this stuff would be too intense for her.” Peter said, looking over at you as you made eye contact. 

“Intense?” Liz interrupted. “Grow up. You think I’ll drink it just because you call me chicken?”

You and Peter did, you knew that. And you also knew you were right about it.

“Give me the cup, jerk.” Liz demanded, getting out of bed before strutting angrily towards Peter, her hand reached out to him. 

She swiped the cup from his hand forcefully before she slammed her head back and downed it all. She sighed for a moment before her face turned and contorted into a look of agony as her hands reached for her throat. 

“Corn nuts!” She gasped, her body launching forward as she fell foward, her eyes closing as she slammed through the glass coffee table. 

You froze, your eyes reaching Peter’s as you both stood in shock, the hairs on the back of your neck standing as your body tensed. 

“Something tells me you picked up the wrong cup.” Peter confirmed for you.

“No shit, sherlock. I can’t believe I did it. I killed my best friend.”

“And your worst enemy.”

“Same difference.” You replied breathlessly. “Oh jesus, I’m gonna...”

You staggered your way to the desk and took a seat down in the red cushioned chair. You held you hand to your chest, your heart racing as Peter laughed in shock, making his way over to you, leaning down on the desk.

“What are we going to tell the cops?” He asked. “‘Fuck it if she can’t take a joke, Sarge?’“

“Stop kidding around.” You snapped, looking back at him as you attempted to catch your breath. “I’m going to have to send my SAT scores to San Quentin instead of Stanford.”

“I’m just a little freaked, alright?” Peter lied. “You got what you wanted, you know.”

“It’s one thing to want someone out of your life, it’s another to give them a wake-up cup of poison!”

You stared off into the distance as you rocked back and forth on the chair while Peter began pacing, walking towards Liz’s body. 

He sighed as he stared down at the rubble of glass from the table and the body of the dead girl. He kicked a copy of cliff notes for The Bell Jar and a magazine titled with The Fall of the American Teenager out from under the rubble and Liz’s limp hand. 

“We did a murder. In Ohio, that’s a crime. But what if this was like a suicide thing?” 

“Like a suicide thing?” You repeated, looking up at Peter as he slowly walked towards you. 

“Yeah, a suicide thing.” He asserted. “Think about it, adolescence is a period of life fraught with anxiety and confusion.”

You began getting lost in his eyes, the calm look on his face as your hand reached out to touch his, calming you down as he continued on with his explanation.

“You can mimic Liz’s diction as well as your own, right? And I bet you know her laptop password.” 

“Yeah, and?”

“And like every other kid that commits suicide nowadays, you gotta have a suicide note. Hell, most kids write them on their laptop. You could just type it out and leave the laptop open.”

“But what about the time stamp Word puts on your entries?”

“If you never save it, it won’t be on there, would it?”

“I guess not.” You shrugged.

You turned towards the desk, the scratching of the chair against the carpet making you sick as you leaned forward and pulled Liz’s laptop towards you. You typed in the password, glancing over at Peter as if you were looking for any hesitation in his figure. You inhaled heavily, typing in Liz’s password before opening up a new Word document and began typing. 

“You may think what I have done is shocking...” You spoke out loud as you typed.

“To me though, suicide is the natural answer to the myriad of problems life has given me.” Peter added, leaning over you to look at the computer screen. 

“That’s good, but Liz would never use the word ‘myriad.’“

“This is the last thing she’ll ever write. She’ll want to cash in on as many of those those fifty cent words as possible.”

“She missed ‘myriad’ on the vocab test a few weeks ago, alright?” 

“That only proves my point. The word is a badge for her failures at school.” 

“You’re probably right...” You turned back to the computer. “’People think because you’re pretty and popular, life is easy and fun. Nobody understood that I had feelings too.’“

“’I die knowing no one knew the real me.’”

“That’s good. Have you done this before?”

Dear Diary,

I never wanted to kill Liz, I swear. I just wanted her to never exist. I didn’t kill her either, Peter did. Peter was the one who poisoned her, not me. All I wanted to do was make a mess of her room with puke, not a mess of her room with blood. I swear I was never a killer, but I don’t know if I’m still the same way.

_____________________

Tagged: @thewinchesterchronicles @spookyanairwin @audreylovespidey706 @asonofpeter​ @halparkebitch​ @prettysbliss

message me to be added to the taglist!

[rhetoricalrogue]

31 Days of Wayhaven, Day 17

Prompt: AU Rating: PG for Nicky’s language Words: 2,222 Characters: Unit Charlie, brief mention of Units Alpha and Bravo, as well as Detective Aubrey Miller. Summary: What happens when the coffee shop co-worker and the University co-worker get tired of their partners sighing over the other and decide to take matters into their own hands.  

For the @31daysofwayhaven event.

Penny rolled her eyes as she came into work, hanging her coat on the nearby staff coat rack.  Nicky had gotten there earlier than she had, which meant that he got to pick the music for the day, which also meant that she was going to be in for a day of listening to him sing along with Dean Martin.  Not that it was a bad thing, but they’d done an entire shift of the Rat Pack the other day already.

“You’re late.”

She grimaced as she pulled on a dark brown apron and quickly pulled the strings around her waist to make a tidy bow at her hip.  “Yeah, car trouble.”

Nicky shook his head.  “You really ought to sell that thing, get you a new one.”

“With what money?  No, the car trouble was because my brother decided to borrow it without asking me.  I woke up to a note and had to grab the bus.  Then the bus wasn’t on time, so I walked the rest of the way.”

He poured her a drink, a smooth hazelnut latte with a dusting of chocolate on top that he made perfectly to her tastes.  At least that was something to cheer her up on a rainy morning, especially since he was practicing his foam art and made her a graceful looking swan on top.  She caught a glimpse of herself in the stainless steel overhead countertops and winced.  The soft, drizzling rain wasn’t  enough to soak her or anything, but it had played hell with her long, silvery blonde hair.  The sleek braided bun she had put it in earlier was now a frizzed out mess and her cheeks were unnaturally red from practically running to the cafe in order to be there on time.

Penny hated being late to anything.

“You’re too soft on Lars,” Nicky told her, pushing half a toasted bagel loaded with cream cheese her way while eating the other half.  “He needs to have some responsibility, especially if he’s couch surfing at your place.”

Penny chewed on her bagel.  “You don’t understand, he’s my baby brother.  It’s my job to look out for him.  Besides,” she took a sip of her drink.  “He was going out for a job interview.  Hopefully this one takes.”  She adored her youngest brother to pieces, and she understood that he was in a rough patch, but at the same time, she was quietly frustrated that he showed up at her doorstep without calling first, ate all her food without shopping for replacements, and left his dirty laundry on the bathroom floor.  She was going to have to have a talk with him once they were home to set some boundaries down.  If not, then she would happily call their eldest brother Andreas to see if he could help out before calling the big guns in and contacting their mother.

She hated to jump around in the family pecking order, but enough was enough. 

“I can relate, seeing as I have a little sister, but I still say you’re being too soft on him.  There’s a fine line between older sibling responsibility and being a doormat.”

“I know, and you’re right.  Taking my car without my permission and making me late for work is definitely something I’m going to talk with him about.”

Nicky made a mmhm noise as if he didn’t quite believe her.  “Don’t worry, Pen.” Nicky told her, changing the subject as he made his own cortado and leaned against the counter to sip on it.  “You didn’t miss him.”

She was glad that her red cheeks could hide the sudden blush that she felt rush up from her throat to her face.  “Miss who?”

“Oh, don’t play coy with me, donna forte!”  He elbowed her in the side.  “The Tall London Fog with the soft Scottish accent.  The one who looks like a golden retriever if a golden retriever was over six feet tall and had dimples when he smiled.”

“Careful, you make me think you’re the one with the crush on him,”  Penny muttered as she sipped on her drink.

“Please, I know I’m handsome and charming, but I’m not an asshole.  I wouldn’t steal anyone from my dearest friend and co-worker.”

“You’re not stealing anyone from anybody,” she grumped.

“Maybe if you actually got off your ass and asked him out.”

“He’s a customer!” 

“Like that’s ever stopped anyone that works here!  I mean, have you seen what the Bravo shift is up to lately?  There’s good money on when Adam’ll get the courage up to ask Miss Grande Half-Caff Nonfat Latte with Caramel Drizzle out before the end of the month.”

Penny rolled her eyes.  “Adam?  Admitting he has feelings for anyone?  I give him a year, minimum.”

“Hello, Pot.  I’d like to introduce you to Kettle.”  He turned to wash out the things he’d used to make their drinks and kicked at her calf.  “Speaking of not admitting feelings, here comes London Fog and Dirty Chai.”

Penny masked the sudden lurch in her pulse by twirling around and grabbing the loose leaf tea from an overhead shelf and measured enough into a French Press, adding a spice mix and a little bit of fresh ginger before pouring in hot water to steep.  She grabbed the canister of lavender Earl Grey she knew he liked and did the same in a separate French Press while Nicky called out a greeting, confirming that they both wanted their usuals.

“Actually,” London Fog said, coming up to the counter.  “Could I add something a little more substantial?  Perhaps one of those sausage rolls and a slice of pumpkin loaf?  I fear today is going to be a long one, seeing as it’s grading season.”

“Oh?  You’re a teacher then?”

“He’s a professor,” Dirty Chai interjected, already setting up her laptop.  She’d moved from their usual two-person table to a larger four-person one so the both of them could spread out.  “Don’t let him get modest; he’s brilliant in his field.”

Penny looked over her shoulder as she brewed a double shot espresso to add to the chai.  “Where do you lecture at?”

The soft question had him looking up at her with an equally soft smile before he quickly looked down, suddenly very interested in the counter’s bakery display.  “Wayhaven University.  I’m one of the Professors in the Folklore and Ethnomusicology department.”

Nicky took over building their order when another person came in and distracted Penny.  “What a coincidence,” he all but purred.  “Our dearest Penelope is studying on that campus!”  He caught the sudden interest London Fog gave and leaned conspiratorially against the counter. “She’s going back for her master’s degree, if I remember correctly.”

“Oh?  What study?”

“You know, for the life of me, I can’t recall.  Sounds like an interesting question to ask her though, Professor…?” Nicky trailed off, realizing that neither he or Penny knew their regulars by name, only by order.

“Buchanan.  Cameron.”

“Call him Cam,” Dirty Chai said, taking her order and sipping with a happy sigh.  “I’m Winona.”

“Nice to finally meet you both.  I’ll go warm up that sausage roll for you.”  On his way to the back kitchen, Nicky nudged Penny with his shoulder, silently winking at her.  She turned her face so Cam and Winona wouldn’t be able to see her expression and narrowed her eyes at her partner before going back to helping the short line of customers that had already started to form for the morning, shaking her head as the first heartfelt strings of Come Back to Sorrento could be heard coming out of the kitchen, Nicky’s smooth baritone making one of the ladies in line sigh dreamily.

Penny transitioned from building orders to taking payment while Nicky bustled in behind her on cleanup and prep duty, the two of them working well.  Every so often, her eyes would stray to Cameron and Winona’s table, the two of them with their heads down and fingers clacking over their laptops. Two hours later, Cameron was looking at his watch and cursing under his breath while quickly packing his things away.

“Thanks for letting us stay so long,” he said, sticking money in the tip jar.

“It was nothing,” she told him, fiercely hoping he didn’t catch the way the tips of her ears were a bright pink.  “I’m glad you could stay with me - us long enough to get some grading done.”

He smiled and she couldn’t help but mirror the same smile back.  “I’d have loved to spend more time, but my office hours are going to be starting soon and I usually have a few students wanting to talk around this time of the year.”

“We’re always here in the mornings!”  Oh, smooth one, Fisher, she thought, mentally kicking herself for forgetting how to talk to people when the person in question was one she had a silly crush on.  Don’t flirt with customers, it’s just an awkward experience for everyone involved!

Cameron nodded.  “And stopping by is always a great start to my day.  Your partner mentioned you were studying at the university?”

“I am.”

Cameron shouldered his laptop bag and smiled again.  “Maybe we’ll run into the other on campus then.”

“I’d like that.”

“I would too.”  He blinked, as if he had been reluctant to break eye contact.  “Well, I’d better get going, or else I’m going to miss some student appointments.  I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“Bright and early!”  Or so she hoped.  She really was going to have to speak with Lars about him getting his own transportation.  Penny sighed as the bell over the door chimed and tried - and failed - to not watch as Cameron walked down the street.

“He’s not that old.”  

Penny jumped at the sudden appearance of Winona at the counter.  “Pardon?”

“Cam.  He’s not that old, just in case you were worried he was some stuffy professor with a really good skin regimen.”

She let out a nervous laugh.  “I wasn’t…” Penny nervously tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear.  “I mean, I didn’t want to presume…”

“Like I said, Cam’s brilliant in his field and made career moves way before the usual timeline.  I’m guessing he’s around your age.”  She put more money in the tip jar.  “You know, if that was a deal-breaker for you.”  Before Penny could say anything in response, Winona waved and left.

Penny ran a hand down her face before frowning.  There was something other than money in the tip jar.  Curiosity getting the best of her, she fished it out, finding it was a business card with all of Cameron’s information on it.

FYI, a woman’s loopy handwriting in bright red ink read at the bottom, your partner wrote down your phone number on a napkin when he gave Cam his order.  Thought I should even the playing field and give you his too.

Penny’s eyes widened as she flipped the card over.  And BTW, he thinks you’re cute too.

“Whatcha got?”  Penny all but jumped out of her skin at the sound of Nicky’s voice unexpectedly at her ear as he tried to look at the card in her hands.

“Nothing!” she yelped, clutching it close to her chest before sticking it into her apron’s pocket.  Turning around, she grabbed Nicky by the ear.  “And what are you doing, giving strange men my phone number!”

Nicky winced, leaning down as he tried to wiggle away from her grasp.  “He’s not strange, Pen!  He’s a regular!  Practically family!  Ow, fuck!”

She let his ear go.  “You could have asked me if it was okay first!”

Nicky rubbed at his ear and rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, and at the glacier pace that either of you were moving, you may have gone out for drinks when you were both eighty.”  

She washed her hands at the prep sink and started making sure that everything they’d used was washed and ready for a new order.  Lunchtime was a sort of quiet lull, they got a few regular orders in, but it wasn’t anywhere near the morning rush.  She checked the schedule.  The Alpha shift was coming in for the afternoon to evening times, which meant that she needed to come in a little earlier tomorrow morning to make sure that things had been properly cleaned and organized and that the morning breakfast items were fully stocked.  She loved them to pieces, but Tane and Maaka weren’t the most organized of duos.  She made a mental note to check the to-go cups as well: Tane had a habit of using a marker to black out the Warning, your contents are extremely hot and make it read Warning, you are extremely hot instead.

The good thing is that on dead nights, the brothers would come up with some interesting off the menu recipes and leave notes for her and Nicky to try in the morning.  Maaka was more organized than his brother and the notes were always fun to read, especially when he added his own commentary.

“You never know,” she told Nicky, the business card in her pocket weighing far heavier than it ought to.  “I just may surprise you.”

Cha cha cha d'amour

Take this song to my lover

Shoo shoo little bird

Go and find my love

[llnwritings]

Square Filled: Doesn't Realize They've Been Injured Fandom: 9-1-1: Lone Star Title: Hidden Hurts Summary: Another day on the job, turns out bad for TK. Not that he knows. [ Read on Ao3 ]

TK didn't have time to tell anyone about the creepy text messages, because as soon as he walked back into the station the alarms sounded and he was rushed into the truck with the rest of the 126. The messages were completely put on the back burner as TK and the others focused on putting out a small barn fire.

TK and Mateo had been tasked with finding the last farm hand, that had been last seen cleaning out the horse stalls. They had made it inside with no problem, TK leading the duo.

So far, so good. Now they just needed to complete their task and all get out safely.

"Doing okay, Mateo?" TK asked over his shoulder, the probie still new to the actual dangerous parts of the job.

“Yeah,” Mateo replied with a smile.

“Help!” Someone yelled from the back of the barn, “Please! Somebody help me! I can’t move.”

“Where’d that come from, probie?”

Mateo concentrated on the calls, before pointing, “Back left stall.”

“Good job, Mateo.” TK congratulated him, before they made their way to the back of the barn, where the calls of help were coming from.

TK entered the horse stall and immediately spotted the farm hand, his body pinned under a fallen broken beam. Mateo came up behind him, looking around TK at the situation.

"Hi," TK smiled at the young teen, "My name's TK and this is Mateo," TK gestured to the probie, Mateo waving at the sound of his name, "We're here to get you out, so just hang tight. Can you tell me your name?"

The teen had dried tear tacks running down his cheeks and was blinking back even more tears, "'m Jack," He sniffed.

"Okay Jack," TK smiled and crouched down to get a good look at the fallen beam, "Other than your back, can you tell me if anything hurts? Can you feel your legs?"

Jack shook his head, “Nothing else hurts, I just can’t get out and I freaked out when I couldn’t move.”

“That’s good news, Jack,” TK smiled, “That means once we lift this beam, we can get you straight out of here.”

TK moved to one end of the beam and gestured to Mateo to go to the other end, “On three, Mateo and me are going to lift the beam, once you feel you can, move out from under there towards the door. Okay?”

Jack nodded, bracing himself for his moment.

“Mateo, you ready?” Mateo nodded, a look of determination on his, “Good, on three, lift it enough so Jack can get out, we don’t need to struggle and lift it too high. That’s just asking for trouble.”

“Right.”

“Okay, one!” Both firefighters crouched down.

“Two!” TK readjusted his grip.

“Three!” With a grunt, Mateo and TK lifted the beam high enough for Jack to crawl out from.

“I’m out!” Jack yelled out, “I’m out!”

“Awesome, now Mateo, we’ll move the beam back a bit and then we can get out of here.”

Mateo nodded, both firefighters shifted and placed the beam on the ground, further into the back of the stall. A sudden hissing sound filled the stall, Mateo frowned and glanced around for the noise, but he couldn’t find the source.

TK, on the other hand, did. There on the floor, very close to where Jack had been trapped, was a canister. It must have been hidden by the beam and now that the beam had been moved, it was making itself known. The canister shook violently, the heat of the fire affecting the gas inside.

TK’s eyes widened, “Mateo get down!”

Mateo, heeding the advice, dropped like a rock, his arms going up to cover his head. The top of the canister popped off like a cork and the expanding gas forced the canister airborne, straight towards TK.

TK attempted to drop to the floor as well, but reacted too slowly. Just as he dropped, the canister made contact, glancing off TK’s left side. The force flipped TK around and he landed on the floor on his back with a thud, his helmet flew off and TK’s head bounced off the ground hard. All while the canister continued on and hit the side of the barn, embedding itself there.

TK’s world went black, but only for a moment.

Blinking rapidly, TK fought through the haze that threatened to drag him under again. Shaking his head, to clear the cobwebs, TK dragged himself to a sitting position and reached out for his fallen helmet and put it back on his head. His heart was beating rapidly and TK could feel the adrenaline pumping throughout his body. Looking around, TK could still Mateo with his head down.

“All good, Mateo?”

At the sound of his name, Mateo peeked up. Looking around, the younger man could see Jack in the doorway and TK sitting across from him.

“I think so,” Mateo frowned, taking a catalogue of his body, nothing hurt, which was a good thing, “What about you?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” TK reassured his partner, he couldn't feel anything hurting, so he must have been fine.

“TK! Mateo!” TK’s radio crackled to life, Judd was on the other end, “How are you going in there? Do you have the missing farmhand?”

TK grabbed his own radio and answered, “Yeah Judd, we’re all good here. We found Jack and we’re making our way out now.”

“Okay, that’s good. We’ll see you soon.”

“Okay Mateo, let’s get out of here,” TK managed to get himself up to his feet without much difficulty and then pulled Mateo up as well, “How do you feel about walking Jack?”

“Um,” Jack bit his bottom lip in thought, “I think I’m going to need some help?”

TK and Mateo smiled at the teen, “That’s what we’re here for.”

Mateo and TK each hooked one Jack's arms over their shoulders and started the walk towards the exit. It only took a few minutes, before the trio made it out of the barn. The firefighters leading Jack to the waiting ambulance and handing him off to Michelle and her team.

"Lucky last," TK smiled at Michelle as he and Mateo sat Jack down on the gurney, "This is Jack, he was pinned under a fallen beam."

"Thanks TK," Michelle looked over Jack, "My name is Michelle, I'm going to be looking after you now. Can you tell me if anything hurts?"

"Do either of you two need looking over?" Tim asked.

"Nah, we're all good," TK smiled, clapping Mateo on the shoulder, "Right probie?"

“Yeah, we’re fine.” Mateo smiled.

“Okay,” Tim turned back to help Michelle out.

“Come on,” TK hooked his arm around Mateo’s shoulders and steered him back towards the truck, “Time for us to head back.”

----

Finally back at the station and TK was ready for his shift to be over. Leaving his boots and outer uniform in his locker, TK picked up some fresh clothing, his shower bag and headed towards the showers. His plan was to clean up and then head home to crash for a good 12 hours.

Humming to himself, TK was lost in his own world as he dumped his stuff on the bench. With a practised motion, TK pulled his shirt off and threw it towards his bag.

“What the fuck?!” TK jumped and turned around, when he heard someone yell behind him.

TK stared at Judd, confusion painted on his face, “What the hell yourself, Judd. What’s with the yelling?”

But Judd could only look in horror at the younger man’s back and shoulder through the mirror. TK’s entire back and shoulders were one large black bruise, numerous cuts and scratches littered the surface. Dried blood trailed down the back of TK’s neck, starting someplace in his hair and the whole left side of his chest looked like something heavy and circlaur had collided with it.

Judd took two steps forward and gently gripped TK’s upper arms and maneuvered the younger man to sit down on the bench. The whole time, TK tried to, unsuccessfully, bat Judd’s hands away.

“Probie!” Judd hollered out the open door, keeping a firm hold of TK as he squirmed in his hold.

Moments later, Mateo poked his head in, confusion painting his face, “If this is about the coffee machine, I didn’t . . . .” Mateo trailed off at the sight of TK, “What happened TK?”

TK frowned, “Judd’s acting weird.”

Mateo’s eyes widened, “But . . . Can’t you feel all that?”

“All wha-”

“Mateo,” Judd firmly interrupted, “Go get Michelle or one of her team. Bring them here, quickly,” Mateo didn’t move, his eyes not leaving the sight of TK chest, “Now! Mateo!” Judd yelled.

Mateo jumped at the level of noise Judd created, before turning on his heels and dashing out the bathroom.

“Don’t go scaring the kid Judd,” TK huffed, accepting that Judd wasn’t going to be letting go of him anytime soon, “So, what’s Grace going to say when I tell her you had your hands all over me?” He teased, trying to lighten the mood of the room.

“She’ll know it was for a good reason.” Judd was focused on trying to assess the damage to TK’s ribs, he pressed lightly on the darkest part of the circular bruising.

TK hissed in pain, “Oh, that’s new.”

Before TK could make sense of what Judd was doing, Mateo was back and he was nearly pulling the arm off a tired looking Tim, with his paramedic bag.

“Judd this better be good,” Tim sounded as tired as he looked, “I was just about to clock out. Your newbie couldn’t tell me what you wanted.”

“Take a look for yourself.” Judd gestured towards TK.

Tim managed to get around the hovering Mateo and gasped at the sight of the sitting firefighter.

“What the hell?!” Tim hissed, pulling his bag off his shoulder and crouching down next to Judd, “You told me you weren’t injured back at the farm!”

TK looked down at his ribs and frowned, “I thought it missed me.”

“What missed you?” Judd asked, as Tim started to remove the necessary equipment, while muttering under his breath about idiot firefighters masking their injuries, “Mateo go inform the Captain of what’s happening.”

“But-”

“It’s okay, TK will be fine, but Cap needs to know. Go on.” Mateo looked worried as he hurried out the door.

“Uh,” TK blinked owlishly, the pain was starting to make itself known, “It was just this canister thing, after we got Jack out. Flew through the air, thought I ducked in time. Didn’t feel a thing until now.”

“Uh huh,” Tim muttered, “And the head injury?”

“Head injury?” TK reached up and attempted to find said injury. His face screwed up in pain when his fingers brushed against an oozing gash on the back of his head, “Oh that. Maybe from when I hit the floor?”

“Hit the floor?” Tim frowned, as he smacked TK’s hand away from the gash, “Your helmet should have taken the brunt of the impact.”

“It may have come off when I fell,” TK muttered under his breath.

“Really?!” Tim paused and blinked at TK’s answer, “Really?! And you didn’t think at all to mention this to anyone. Anyone at all? Yes Michelle was busy, but you had Karen or myself you could have told. Hell your dad was there.”

TK shrugged and then winced at the pain the motion caused, “I wasn’t hiding anything, I really wasn’t hurting when we carried Jack out, I wasn’t even hurting until Judd sat me down, so I didn’t think anything of it. Little things happen on the job all the time and I usually just walk it off. No need to worry anyone about a small spill.”

“This is more than a small spill TK,” Judd frowned at the younger man’s lack of concern, “This could have turned into something more serious.”

TK blinked at Judd, “If I thought I had actually hurt myself on the farm I would have spoken to someone, trust me, I’m not a fan of being in pain. I just really didn’t think anything of it at the time.”

“Say I’m willing to believe that,” Judd huffed as he held items that Tim was handing him as the paramedic worked, “This happens again, no matter how small you think it is, you have to tell someone.”

TK opened his mouth to reply, but was beaten to it when Owen was led into the bathroom by Mateo.

“I agree with Judd, TK.”

“Dad!”

“No TK, we’ve talked about this, no secrets.”

“Yes dad.” TK agreed with a sigh.

“So Tim, what’s the verdict?” Owen asked.

Tim finished wrapping TK’s ribs before standing and assessing the head wound, “By the looks of this, it won’t need stitches. So you’re at least lucky there. Bruising on TK’s back is from the impact of hitting the ground, so you’ll need to rest to recover from that. The ribs are at minimum bruised, we won’t know for sure until after a x-ray. There is a high chance that they could be fractured, at worse you’ve broken them. Seeing as you’re not having any trouble breathing, I’ll say your lung hasn’t been punctured. Either way, I recommend taking him to the hospital, get that x-ray and take it from there.”

Owen grimaced as Tim explained TK’s injuries, “Thank you Tim for your assistance. You too Judd. We’ll get right on that.” He turned to TK, “Let’s get you covered up and we’ll head to the hospital before we head home.”

“Yeah okay dad.”

“Do you need any help getting him to your car, Cap?” Judd asked as he stood up.

“No Judd we should be fine, go head home to Grace.” Owen clapped Judd on the shoulder in thanks, “You too Mateo, don’t worry.”

The three men slowly filed out of the bathroom, Mateo glancing back with worry as Judd steered him out, thus leaving TK alone with his dad. TK sighed and forced himself to look up at his dad.

Owen reached over to TK’s bag and pulled out a well worn yellow hoodie. Gently, Owen helped TK to stand and then helped him put on the hoodie, “Come on son, let’s get you out of here.”

[rohad93]

Authority Online: Ch 10

She really didn’t want to open her eyes.

Somewhere in the back of her brain, she knew it was Sunday, and that there was no rush for her to get out of bed, especially not right now. She was warm and cozy, cocooned in warm sheets. There was no blaring alarm and nothing she needed to be doing.

Something was off though. Instead of the lavender-scented sheets, she was used to. The ones currently wrapped around her smelled of citrus and maybe a hint of coffee?

Movement at her waist made her eyes pop open and suddenly she remembered where she was. She reached back and found the arm wrapped loosely around her waist and with a lazy smile, snuggled back deeper into the tall blonde spooning her. 

She was so accustomed to having to pop right out of bed first thing in the morning that now that she was up she wasn’t going to be able to go back to sleep. Instead, she just laid there, gently running her thumb over the smooth, lean muscles of Jaune’s arm and enjoying the other woman’s warmth seeping into her skin. 

Maybe fifteen minutes later Jaune made a gurgling noise in her throat and began to shift, waking.

She stayed still, not exactly feigning sleep but she knew the blonde couldn’t see her face from her place behind her. 

The arm hanging over her waist squeezed a little tighter and then she could feel Jaune’s hot breath on the back of her neck before she felt the feather-light press of lips on her shoulder. 

She couldn’t help but hum and the ruse was up.

“G’ morning to you too.” She smiled too herself, feeling Jaune stiffen behind her.

“I’m sorry,” she grumbled, voice thick with sleep. “Did I wake you?” Her grip tightened, pulling Celeste closer if that were possible. The baker just smiled harder and managed to turn over to face her. 

Those usually bright and sharp amber eyes were blurry and only one was even open, the other closed tight against the morning sunlight filtering in through the windows.  

“No, I’ve been up a little bit,” she assured, pressing a soft kiss to her lips and leaned back. reaching up to run her thumb over a sharp cheekbone. A hand reached up to cover hers and she turned her head to press a kiss to Celeste’s palm. 

Her chest throbbed with a searing affection for the lawyer.

She tucked her head beneath her chin smiling against her neck. She felt more than heard Jaune’s chuckle and then fingers were sliding through her hair. They stayed that way for a while before Jaune let out a jaw splitting yawn.

"We can't stay here all day…" 

"I know…," she mumbled with a sigh, but still made no move to get up or release her hold on the blonde.

“Celeste,” she chuckled lowly.

“Fine…” She let go, letting the blonde up, catching sight of her head. She snorted, making Jaune look at her.

“I already know…,” she grumbled with a frown.

With a giggle, Celeste reached up to flick her fingers through the blonde hair sticking up in every direction on one side of her head.

“It’s cute,” she giggled, trying to press the usually pristine hair into place only for it to pop back up the second she moved her fingers away. 

“I’m going to take a shower…,” she mumbled, with a huff and climbed out of the bed. 

Celeste just laughed and snuggled back into the sheets. They were warm and she now realized the faint smell of citrus and coffee was just Jaune.

She closed her eyes and it seemed like only a minute had passed but the next thing she knew Jaune was shaking her shoulder.

“I hardly mind, but you can’t lay in my bed all day, Celeste.” she smiled as the groggy baker grumbled into her pillow. “If you want, you can take a shower though, I left you a towel and I have some clothes I think you can wear if you don’t want to put your dress back on.” 

“Fine…” she huffed into the pillow before finally looking up at the freshly showered lawyer, back in her jeans and a white button-down shirt, her wet hair combed into compliance. 

She was never going to be able to look at her in jeans the same way again. 

“Have you seen my underwear?” she asked with a yawn, pushing herself up on one elbow. 

Jaune reached down and held up the discarded bit of fabric on a single finger.

“Underwear is a strong word for this.” She grinned as Celeste took them and sat up.

“They served their purpose.” She smiled, flipping her mussed hair over her shoulder and standing up, the sheets falling away.

“Which was?” Jaune asked, watching her saunter over to the master bathroom.

“To get you to take them off.” She looked knowingly over her shoulder before closing the door.

“Well…,” Jaune crossed her arms. “They did do that…,” she admitted to the empty room. 

~ ~ ~

Twenty minutes later Celeste padded quietly down the hall in a pair of old, worn pajama pants she had to roll up at the ankles and a black t-shirt that was tight across her chest. Jaune was much taller and much smaller chested then herself, but nothing was uncomfortable and the shirt smelled pleasantly of some kind of faded cologne and the ever-present hint of coffee that seemed to always follow the blonde around.

Though it was unclear if it was the shirt that smelled like coffee once she walked into the kitchen to find the freshly brewed pot and Jaune standing over it with her mug.

“I hope that’s okay. I don’t have much that I don’t wear to work,” she said before taking a sip from her mug. “Do you want some tea?”

“They’re fine and yes, please.” She smiled, sliding onto one of the stools sitting at the island. 

She watched Jaune pull a small metal tin out of one of the cupboards and pull off the plastic seal before she realized something.

“I thought you didn’t like tea?”

“Can’t stand it,” she affirmed absentmindedly as she put the teabag in a mug and hit the hot water button on the fancy coffee machine.

"Does your mother drink tea?"

"My mother drinks wine," Jaune snorted.

"I'm curious why you have an unopened canister of black tea than." She dropped her chin into the palm of one hand and looked at Jaune with a curious but almost smug look.

The lawyer paused, hesitating for a brief moment.

"I bought it a long time ago…," she tried.

"I hate to call you a liar…," Celeste started trying not to grin too hard as a lawyer's cheeks tinted pink. She finally released a heavy sigh.

"I bought it the other day because I know you prefer black tea…," she finally confessed, pointedly not looking at the baker as she fiddled with the machine.

The knowing grin turned into a soft smile and she slipped off the stool and quietly walked up behind the blonde, wrapping her arms around her waist and laid her cheek against her back between her shoulder blades.

“I do appreciate the thought, darling, thank you,” 

She felt more than heard the acknowledging hum by the vibrations in her back.

“Here” 

Celeste stepped back as she turned to hand he the hot mug of steeping tea.

“Do you have to get back home anytime soon?” She looked up into amber eyes, the expression on her face seemed carefully neutral.

“I don’t have to go home for a while... unless you have things you need to do…”

“No!” Jaune quickly cut her off and then looked embarrassed all of a half-second before she cleared her throat. “No…,” she said again, but calmer. “I’d like for you to stay a while if you don’t have anything you need to be doing… but I know Sunday is the only day the bakery is closed and I don’t want to monopolize your time,” she said this with a guarded and almost neutral expression, but if Celeste had learned anything about Jaune over the last several weeks it was that she was terrible at concealing her emotions. At least with her. 

“That’s true…,” she agreed, toying with the string on the teabag, dunking it in and out of the water. “...but that means it’s the only day I can spend with you.” She looked up and couldn’t help but smile at the way those amber eyes lit up and the corners of her mouth twitched upwards.

“Breakfast then?” She asked. 

“Please” 

~ ~ ~

Since she didn’t have anything suitable to wear out, Jaune ordered breakfast for them and they sat on her back porch eating and talking.

Celeste could feel her phone go off a few times in her pocket but she ignored it just as Jaune ignored the ringing of her own from inside the house.

“It’s probably my mother, and she isn’t going anywhere.” She’d waved away the baker’s concerns. 

She knew it was probably her sister wondering where she was, but she was a grown woman and she had told Rose where she was going, it wasn’t as if she had just vanished without a word last night.  

She hit the button when Jaune went inside to get something and saw that she had two missed calls from Rose and rolled her eyes before holding down the button and shutting it off.

She would talk to her later. She just wanted to enjoy the day with Jaune. They both had crammed schedules and the time they had to spend together was limited to the short span of time between when they got off work and the time they went to bed most of the week. 

Sunday was her one day off and she wanted to spend it right here.

So she did.

It was nice to just sit, unhurried, and talk, ignoring everything else that normally divided their attention. Like work, and family. 

Both were talked about at length over the course of several more mugs of tea and coffee. It didn’t at all surprise Celeste that Jaune always seemed to smell of the strong drink.  

At one point they even managed to locate most of the buttons that had gone flying across the room the night before. She was still embarrassed about that but Jaune seemed more amused than anything else. 

At about four o’clock she knew she needed to head home, as much as didn’t really want too. She did need to do some laundry now.

Courtesy of Jaune, of course. 

She folded her dress over her arm, still wearing the other woman’s borrowed clothes as Jaune walked her out to her car. 

“I’ll get these back to you at the end of the week,” she promised, setting her things in the backseat.

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t wear them anymore,” she assured with a little wave.

“If you’re sure…,” she stalled and they both knew it if the way Jaune was smirking at her was anything to go by. 

“I’ll call you tomorrow.” She stepped forward, lifting up on her toes.

“I look forward to it.”  Jaune leaned down, meeting her halfway in what was meant to be a quick kiss but quickly drew itself out until they were breathless.

It was only reluctantly that Celeste moved away and climbed into her car and drove home. 

The shop was quiet but once she entered the stairwell she could hear that her sister’s apartment door was open and she knew that she was probably being waited on. 

Sure enough Rose appeared just as she was passing their door.

“Where have you been?!” The teacher came out of her apartment, fists on her hips and frowning deeply. Celeste sighed to herself as she turned to face her sister.

“I told you last night I was going to Jaune’s and that I probably wouldn’t be back until today.” 

“You said not to ‘wait up’ you didn’t say anything about not coming home at all!” She stomped a foot and looked at her sister up and down. “I can see why you didn’t since those are definitely not your clothes…” She crossed her arms over her chest. 

Something about the statement and the way she said it made a hot anger pool in her belly.

“Rose, I’m thirty-two years old, I do not need to check in with you and I especially do not need your permission to have sex.” She turned and started up the stairs to her own apartment without another word.

Rose followed, fuming.

“Well excuse the hell out of me for being worried when you didn’t come home and didn’t answer your phone all day!” she shouted. 

“I was with Jaune!”

“A woman I’ve only ever passed by and you’ve only known a month. She could have murdered you!” She threw up her hands as they stopped in front of her door.  Celeste whipped around to face her.

“You don’t know anything about her!” Her voice was low and cold. Rose glared right back.

“You’re right, I don’t, you know what I do know? I know that one night out parents went out and they never came home either!  So excuse me for worrying about you!” she screeched.

They stared at each other for several long, tense moments before Celeste sighed tiredly.

“Alright, yes, I should have texted you that I was with her all day, but you are not my keeper, Rose and you don’t get to make judgments about Jaune like that...” 

Rose pursed her lips, looking like she wanted to keep fighting but she seemed to deflate with a sigh.

“I was just worried, I don’t know her.” She crossed her arms. 

“You’re right, but she’s going to be around quite a lot from now on I think… so you need to…”

The younger woman still didn’t look happy but grunted, her way of agreeing while still mad. 

“And what do you suggest…?” 

“I’ll talk to her and figure something out,” she promised.

“Fine…,” she huffed but it looked like she still wanted to say something.

Celeste looked at her, both eyebrows raised in silent question.

“...how was it?” she finally asked.

Celeste let out a breathy laugh.

“Wonderful”

[ahtohallan-calling]

chapter 3 of don’t read the last page is here!

[kristanna / m / multichap / modern au with actress!anna and vetstudent!kristoff]

4

“Seriously, though,” Sven asked around a mouthful of rice, “what happened?”

“I, um, ran into someone.”

“Like a girl someone?”

“Um. Yeah.”

“And?”

There was no use hiding it. Sven would drag it out of him someday, and anyway, despite being kind of the worst sometimes, he was also the best friend Kristoff had had since– well, since Anna– and sometimes, he even managed to give pretty decent advice.

“Well, uh, it was Anna.”

chapter 3: no onions

“It smells like fried rice in here. Kris, I swear to god you better not have ordered Chinese food without me again because–”

Kristoff didn’t bother to look up from his hands even when Sven abruptly stopped talking. He’d been sitting on the sofa, unmoving, face buried in his palms ever since Anna had left trying to figure out what the hell he’d done wrong.

“There’s still some left if you want it,” he mumbled.

A low whistle came from across the room. “I mean, gonna be real with you, I do, but shit, man, what happened? Is it something with work?”

“No.”

“School?”

“No.”

“Family?”

“No.”

“Dick dry up and fall off?”

“Remind me again why I still live with you.”

“Because no one else will put up with the weird shit you sing in the shower.”

“Ah, right, that was it,” he muttered as Sven sat down beside him and they both sank a little deeper into the bowels of the world’s least valuable sofa.

“Seriously, though,” Sven asked around a mouthful of rice, “what happened?”

“I, um, ran into someone.”

“Like a girl someone?”

“Um. Yeah.”

“And?”

There was no use hiding it. Sven would drag it out of him someday, and anyway, despite being kind of the worst sometimes, he was also the best friend Kristoff had had since– well, since Anna– and sometimes, he even managed to give pretty decent advice.

“Well, uh, it was Anna.”

“No fucking way. The Anna you like, drove all the way home to see that one weekend freshman year and then you got there and saw her with her boyfriend and you were like ‘oh, sh–”

“Yes, that Anna.”

His voice came out sounding tighter than he meant it to, and suddenly the teasing note in Sven’s voice was gone. “Shit. What happened?”

He explained his whole insane day from the beginning, and for once Sven was quiet through the whole thing, except when he called a quick time-out to look up the tampon commercial and confirm that Kristoff really wasn’t kidding about that. He’d thought that maybe getting the whole story out would make him feel better, but it somehow made it all worse to see Sven looking as confused as he did. Kristoff groaned and headed into the kitchen for a beer; he really needed one right now.

Sven followed behind him, still trying to puzzle his way through the story. “So like, to be clear, she was definitely the one who initiated the kissing?”

“Um. Considering she told me I could kiss her back, yeah.”

“Wait, you didn’t immediately just–”

“I don’t know! She’s so…so…” He threw his hands up in frustration. “God. She’s just Anna, and she’s always been Anna, and I’ve always been me, and it’s like…why the hell would someone like her even look at me twice? I mean, it was like she walked into the store, and I just immediately was right back to where I was freshman year, just like…”

He couldn’t come up with the words and took a swig of beer instead. Sven patted his shoulder sympathetically. “I’m sorry, man. It doesn’t make sense to me, either. Had to’ve been something else going on. Or maybe she thought you weren’t into her.”

“Thanks, but it probably is just…” He waved a hand, feeling futile. “Probably just that she really was just curious and that was all.”

“I’m gonna be honest, from what you’ve told me about her, I don’t think that’s it. Didn’t you say she used to skip school when you were sick and bring over soup and DVDs?”

“I mean, yeah, but…I don’t know. She didn’t like school that much.”

“I don’t think someone who does that shit would do this shit. Not without a reason, anyway.”

“A lot can change after high school.”

“You’re telling me,” Sven mumbled, opening a beer of his own. “You seen my hairline lately?”

In spite of himself, Kristoff let out a snort of laughter. So maybe tonight hadn’t gone where he’d been hoping, but hey– he’d lived the last seven years without Anna. He’d get used to it again.

—-

He’d spent so much time over the last week hoping she’d come back in that when she actually did, he blinked several times before realizing she wasn’t going to fade away. She was looking at him as she walked up to the counter, but the moment their eyes met her gaze flew away so she could stare a little bit too hard at the menu.

Two could play at that game; he started wiping down the counters even though he’d just done that five minutes ago and no one had come in since. He watched her from the corner of his eye, wondering why, exactly, she’d come all the way back over here when she’d said she lived nearly on the other side of the city.

“A mocha, please, with cinnamon syrup,” she ordered, sounding almost timid. 

“Do you want whip?”

“Yes, please. To go.”

She handed the cashier a twenty and stuffed a five in the tip jar when she got her change, and then ever so slowly she drifted down to his end of the counter. He kept his eyes on the coffee as he started to make her drink, but he still said quietly, “I’m serious, you really don’t have to order a drink to talk to me.”

“I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice.

This time he did look up at her. Her eyes were downcast as she leaned against the counter, drumming her fingers against it. “For what?” he asked, starting to steam the milk.

“For, um…the other night.”

“It’s okay, seriously, if you’re not interested it’s–”

“It’s not that, Kristoff,” she said, and finally she looked up at him, and his heart broke a little when he realized she looked somehow afraid.

“Tell me, Anna.”

She chewed on her bottom lip. “I just. Um. I don’t know if you really want to hear the whole thing. Kind of a ‘do you want the long version or the longer version’ thing. But, um…sorry, again. And thank you. I got a callback.”

Kristoff nearly dropped her cup. “I– hang on, let me finish this and then– just hang on.”

He finished making her coffee and set it on the counter before picking up the whipped cream canister. “Tell me when.”

Her mouth quirked up in the barest hint of a smile, and he couldn’t help but feel relieved; that had been one of their dozens of stupid inside jokes back in the day, that when one of them had a bad day and needed to just pile up in front of a movie with snacks, he’d always go for Pringles, and she’d want a massive ice cream sundae with so much whipped cream you couldn’t even see the ice cream part.

She waited until there were a solid two inches of whipped cream before saying, “When,” and he slid the cup over to her with a little smile of his own.

“Okay. You were saying? About the part, I mean.”

“I, um…the audition went really well. And so I got a callback, and that went well too, and so I wanted to come and thank you because I seriously couldn’t have done it without you. I mean, actually, I wanted to call you, but I didn’t know if your number had changed or not, and I don’t think you ever got on Facebook or Twitter or anything so I couldn’t get a hold of you there and–”

The bell over the door jangled, and he glanced up to see a group of women coming in wearing yoga pants and chatting animatedly about the new tea flavors. “Anna– sorry, I just–”

“Oh, no, no, I’m the one who’s sorry, I’ll just get out of your way, just–”

“No, not that, just– I have to do this but I get off in half an hour so just–”

Her eyes looked suddenly hopeful, and there was that old familiar pang in his chest. “Just– wait here, okay? And you can tell me the long version of everything.”

Already paper cups were sliding his way, but he kept his eyes locked on hers until she nodded and sat down at a nearby table. The rest of his shift flew by in a rush of skinny lattes and double-caramel frapps, but through it all he kept glancing up at Anna. Most of the time she was tapping on her phone or fidgeting with her hair or picking at her nails, but whenever their eyes met, he would give her another tiny smile and get one in return.

And then, finally, he was done and slid into the chair across from her. “Do you wanna do this here? Or we can go to my apartment again if you want, my roommate won’t be home for a while. Or we can go to yours if you’d rather.”

Anna’s finger tapping sped up. “Um, my sister’s probably home by now, and she’d probably listen in, so–”

“My place it is, then,” he said, and his stomach growled loudly. He winced. “Um, we can do takeout again if you want, or you don’t have to stay long enough to eat, but I’m kind of starving so–”

“We can do pizza,” she said quickly. “My treat.”

“You don’t have to, seriously–”

“I want to.”

Her fingers were still drumming insistently on the table. Without really thinking, Kristoff reached over and cupped her hands between his own, stilling them. He heard her suck in a breath.

“Anna,” he said, looking steadily at her. “I promise, whatever it is you have to say to me, it’s going to be okay.”

“That’s a big promise.”

“I mean it.”

“You can change your mind,” she said softly. “If you decide it isn’t okay. I know I fucked up.”

“Just– let’s actually talk first before you start worrying about what I’ll think, okay? One thing at a time.”

For some reason, her eyes started to fill with tears, and he hastily got to his feet, which only seemed to make it worse. “I– okay, I don’t know what I said, but– c’mon, I’m parked out back.” 

He took her hand again, more on instinct than anything, and led her through a side door out to his beat-up old sedan. He opened the door for her, and she managed a sniffly “thank you” as she buckled up. 

“You can put on the radio if you want,” he said as he pulled out. “Or the aux cord is somewhere in here, remember how we used to argue over who got control of it? Because you’d always want to play show tunes, and I’d want to play Green Day or something?”

He glanced over to see Anna swiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “And then we found out that they’d made that musical based on their songs, and all we listened to was that cast recording for like a month before we finally admitted that neither of us actually liked it that much.”

“Yeah. But we pretended all that time anyway because we didn’t want to let the other person down.”

She was quiet for a long time after that, until just after he turned onto his street. “Why didn’t we do a better job of keeping in touch with each other, Kris?”

It was his turn to be silent. He knew the answer, but that didn’t make it any easier to say. He parked the car, turned it off, unfastened his seatbelt; still, neither of them made a move to get out of the car. He turned to meet her gaze. She wasn’t crying anymore, but her eyes were still puffy. Her hair was thrown up in a loose bun; she was in an oversized t-shirt and leggings, and still she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.

“I don’t know,” he lied, finally opening his door. “I guess it just happens sometimes.”

She followed him silently into the building, tapping on her phone as they got into the elevator. “You still like veggie, right?”

“What?” he asked; all of his focus had been on the way her eyes still looked red and whether she’d let him give her a cold washcloth or something because Jesus, that was killing him.

“Pizza.”

“Oh– yeah. But no–”

“Onions, I remember. Me too.”

They were quiet again until the door to his apartment shut behind them. Kristoff cleared his throat. “Um– unfortunately nothing’s changed in the last week, so the floor’s kind of still our best option.”

“That’s fine. I feel floors are usually the best for, um, this sort of thing. Kind of…cathartic to just…be there.”

He nodded and awkwardly sat down in front of the sofa again, letting his long legs sprawl under the table; she slid down next to him, keeping a healthy distance between them as she tucked her knees up to her chest. “So– anyway, like I kind of said earlier, um…I’m just…really sorry.”

She was tugging at the ends of her hair, twisting it in her hands as she spoke. “Because it was, like, really fucked up of me to say that to you. That kissing you was just…getting something out of the way. That was…just really, really shitty. And not why I did it.”

He hadn’t really known what to expect, but this hadn’t been it. “Um. So why did…um…”

“I really did want to kiss you, not just….because I was curious. Or because I’ve always wanted to. Which I have,” she added, and he glanced over to see her cheeks had turned a little pink. “But, um…I guess I just…I do this thing where I, like, think something is going to be inevitable, and so then I’m like ‘well let’s just get the waiting over with and do it’, and then I just jump in headfirst and it never actually, like, goes well.”

“What do you mean, inevitable?” “Like, well…like I just, you know, walked into this coffee shop and suddenly the boy I was in love with for like four years is there making my coffee, which is crazy because neither of us is from L.A., and then I didn’t even recognize you at first because…well, okay, I’m already being honest so I’ll just say that like…college was definitely kind to you, and so then I was like ‘holy shit, this is like a movie or something and it’s meant to be’ and then you called me pretty and then we were just talking and it felt like– like…really good. But then I kissed you and you were so nervous and then like, a really good kisser and then it just hit me that you’re– you’re Kristoff, and I’m, like, this huge fucking mess, and whenever I just jump into shit I always fuck it up or it fucks me up, and I’d already lost you once and now I’d just found you and how shitty would it be if I just, like, ruined it or like, hurt your feelings or something, and then I was like ‘okay well just play this off Anna’ and then– then I just lied and acted like it didn’t matter which is like, the opposite of the truth, because it did matter, and you matter, and I just hurt you anyway which is what I didn’t want to do, and I’m really really sorry that I’m such a fuckup and that I’m crying on your living room floor again and I’ll go home now if you want.”

He’d held back as she spoke, knowing that she needed to just get it all out, but he couldn’t stand it any longer; he reached over and pulled her into a hug, holding her tight as she cried into the front of his t-shirt. “And now I’m getting your shirt all soggy,” she said, muffled against his chest, and he let out a weak chuckle.

“Anna, it’s okay. I’m– I’m not mad.”

“But you could be, if you wanted to. I’m really sorry that I hurt you.”

“No, you didn’t, seriously, it’s–”

She sat up and looked him dead in the eye, though he still didn’t drop his arms from her shoulders. “Don’t do that, Kris.”

“Do what?”

“Just– bottle your shit up. You always used to do that, and it would drive me crazy. You’re allowed to have feelings.”

He looked at her for a long moment. She wasn’t the only person who had ever told him that, but she’d been the first. He’d never really listened, and that had ended at least one of his relationships, but– maybe it was time.

He took a deep breath. “Okay. Yeah. I, um, I was really sad after you left.”

“You were sad while I was still there. I could tell.”

“…yeah.”

She studied him for a long moment, a few stray tears still rolling down her cheeks. “I’m seriously so, so sorry, Kristoff.”

“I’ll forgive you. On one condition.”

“Anything.”

“Let’s…start over. Like…like, pretend you just came into my coffee shop. What would you

actually want to say?”

She pondered it for a moment, then a familiar sparkle came back into her eyes; he felt a little twinge in his heart at the sight. “I’d say, ‘Damn, Bjorgman, where have you been all my life?’ And then you’d say something, like, super you–”

“Like, ‘behind this counter, waiting for you to hurry up and take your coffee’.”

Anna let out a little laugh, and his heart soared. “And then I’d tell you that I’d really missed you, and that I wanted to take you out so we could catch up, and that if it was a date that would be really nice.”

“And I’d say ‘more than nice, Anna, it would be amazing’.”

“Really?”

He nodded, leaning his forehead against hers. “I kinda…I think I felt the inevitable thing, too.”

Her hand drifted up to his cheek. “We could be wrong, you know.”

“Yeah.”

“We could just both be like, really horny. I know for me it’s been like, way too long, but you’re kind of super hot now, so–”

“No, it’s been like…since my last girlfriend. Which ended last fall, so–”

“Oh, shit, that’s probably it–”

“No,” he said softly, “I don’t think it is.”

She bit her lip. “Maybe we still shouldn’t kiss just yet. Just to be sure.”

“Okay.”

“And like, maybe it feels inevitable because we’re still thinking of each other as our high school selves. So maybe we should just…re-get to know each other.”

“Okay.”

“So like, definitely no kissing. Or touching. So we can rule the horniness out.”

“Like touching only in a sexy way, or is this–”

“No, no, this is good. Hugs are good. We can cuddle, like, all day long. Like–”

She turned a little, swinging her legs over his lap and nestling her head against his shoulder. “Like this feels really nice. Is this okay?”

“Almost.”

He tugged her a little closer, wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning his chin on the top of her head. “Okay. Now we’re good.”

They were quiet for a long moment; Anna nestled closer to him, letting her hand drift absentmindedly across his chest, drawing tiny shapes. “Also,” he said, feeling his cheeks start to burn, “I forgot to mention this, but you’re super hot now, too. I kinda always thought you were, though.”

“Even though I’m like, the girl in the tampon commercial?”

“Especially then. The little string just really does it for me.”

She giggled and buried her face in his neck, her arms wrapping around him. “You’re the woooorst, Kris, I–”

The doorbell rang, and they groaned in unison. “I’ve never been so pissed off about pizza,” Anna mumbled, scrambling to her feet and towards the door.

From the floor, Kristoff tried not to laugh as he heard the pizza guy say, “Oh my god, you’re–”

“I swear to god I will tip you double if you shut up right now and never, ever tell anyone about this. Or use the cartwheel GIF.”

“The one where your–”

“You know the one I mean.”

There was only silence and the shuffling of bills after that until the door slammed shut and she sailed back over to him. “Don’t say a word, Bjorgman.”

He mimed zipping his lips as she opened the box, then said quickly– “Oh– let me get plates– and you want something to drink? It’s, uh, I think it’s pretty much water or beer or soymilk, but you can have any of that.”

“Beer is good.”

“Yeah? Okay, great."

Once they were settled, they ate in companionable silence, occasionally meeting each other’s eyes over their plates and looking away quickly with reddened cheeks. Anna let out a sudden burp, and Kristoff snorted with laughter. “How are you still pretty when you do that?”

“Shut up,” she laughed, leaning over to gently push his chest, and then she didn’t pull away and their eyes locked and maybe they both definitely had garlic breath and had said no kissing but they were leaning towards each other anyway and then there was a rattle of keys in the door and they flew apart.

“Goddammit Kristoff, now it smells like pizza and I told you to stop ordering in without me and– holy shit that’s a girl.”

Anna waved at him. “Sorry. But there’s still a piece left if you want it. Saves us from arguing over it.”

Sven’s eyes darted between the two of them, trying to make sense of it all. At last, he seemed to give up and plopped onto the floor between them, snagging the piece and taking a big bite. “So did you guys, like, figure your shit out?”

“Um…” Anna said, looking over at Kristoff. 

He shrugged. “I’d say so.”

“Sweet, because I went to Gamestop on the way home and got a copy of Wii Mario Kart, and you know I still have that Wii in the top of my closet so if you could make yourself useful for once, Bjorgman, and grab that for us, we could definitely do some split-screen.”

Anna ended up staying three hours more, even managing to hold her own against Sven until he insisted on playing Rainbow Road three times in a row “because that’s where true warriors are found”. After fifteen minutes of spending more time off the track than on it while Kristoff, who had surrendered five races ago, laughed, she dropped the controller and held up her hands. “I surrender! Okay, you’re the undisputed champion.”

Sven nodded his head, looking astonishingly dignified for someone with a piece of popcorn clinging to his hair– a remnant of an earlier battle over who got to be Peach. 

(Anna had won that one, at least.)

She glanced at her phone and winced. “Oh, shit, it’s almost ten. I told Elsa I’d probably call her to pick me up at like, six. She’s got work in the morning, I–”

“Don’t even have to ask,” Kristoff said, getting to his feet. “C’mon.”

“It’s like, half an hour from here, are you sure? I’ll give you gas money if–”

“Don’t worry about it. Seriously.”

Sven flopped onto the sofa, letting his lanky legs dangle over the end, and waved as they headed out. “Don’t have too much fun without me. Come back next week, and we’ll do Super Smash Bros, yeah?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

There were a million questions he wanted to ask Anna on the drive to her apartment; how she’d ended up in L.A., what her sister had been up to, whether she still held such strong opinions over the best place to get a Sprite (always McDonald’s, though Kristoff would pretend he liked bottled better just to see her fume)– but as soon as she’d plugged her address into his phone, she started drifting off.

The roads were mostly clear on the way to her apartment, so after a few minutes Kristoff hesitantly set his right hand on her knee, still hardly daring to believe that this was real, that she was really right there beside him. She yawned and pressed her own hand over it; at the next stoplight, he glanced over and saw that she’d dozed off, a little smile on her face.

She blinked blearily awake as he pulled up to her building. “Morning, sleepyhead,” he said softly, squeezing her hand.

Anna leaned over and pressed a soft kiss against his cheek. “Thanks for the ride. And the forgiveness.”

“Anytime. Tell Elsa I said hey, yeah?”

“Will do. Oh– I didn’t actually get your number, did I?”

He handed over his phone, and she quickly typed hers in. “Text me when you get home, okay?”

“Okay.”

She kissed his cheek again, and then she was gone, nearly skipping up the sidewalk. He waited until she was indoors and a light had come on up on the sixth floor before pulling away, a ridiculous smile on his face.

—

He didn’t have work the next day and always slept in, so when his phone started buzzing on his bedside table anyway, he ignored it for a moment before realizing it was a call, not an alarm. He reached blindly for it and tapped the green button.

“Whozit?”

“Kristoff?”

“Anna? What’s up? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah– it’s– it’s great, actually.”

It didn’t sound like it was great. It sounded like she was out of breath and had either been laughing or crying. “Um– are you sure?”

“I, um, I got the part.”

He sat straight up, suddenly wide awake. “Holy shit, that’s awesome.”

“I know. And they want me to go ahead and– and fly out in a few days.”

“Fly out? What do you mean?”

“It’s, um, they’re doing rehearsals and shooting and everything on location and stuff. Well, not all of it, just– a lot of it.”

“On location…where?”

“Um…Romania. For six weeks.”

[phoenixmaiden-reading]

Cycle of the Werewolf Book Review

Cycle of the Werewolf by Stephen King

Read: March 9, 2020 – March 10, 2020

I’ve been wanting to read this book for years and have never been able to find it. But I found it at the book store and I had to get it. The one I had had illustrations, so that was an added bonus. It wasn’t a very long book and the story was broken up by month. Which makes sense since it is about killings from a Werewolf that only comes during the full moon. Each month goes through a murder of the townspeople and the fear it invokes in them. It was a quick read and I couldn’t put it down. I probably would have finished it in one day if I hadn’t read it during my lunch break. Loved it.

Stars:  ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Spoiler Summary ahead!

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The story takes place in Maine, of course, in the town of Tarker’s Mills and starts in January. There is a snowstorm and everyone in town is shut down for the night. There is one man, Arnie, who got caught out with his tractor. So he stayed in a tool shack to wait it out. While there he hears a scratching at the door, but before he could decide to open it, a big wolf breaks down the door and kills him. Something inhumane has come to the little town.

Now February, a woman named Stella, is by herself on Valentine’s Day. She has sent herself valentines from celebrities and thinks about falling in love. The kids in town make fun of her because of her size but on the night of the moon, she dreams of love. She dreams that a nameless man will come and sweep her off her feet. She hears scratching at her window and thinks she can see a man, and then a shape of a wolf, but she’s in a dream, as it could be a man. So she opens her window. There is no one there until a big wolf jumps through her window and along with the cold winter breeze come in she knows this is no dream. She remembers too late what happened to Arnie at the railroad shack and it is upon her.

It is now March, and the town has a blizzard and the power goes out. The town librarian is thinking about how Mother Nature is cleaning up the deadwood. He finds pleasure in making his wife feel scared of him and when she hurts herself fumbling in the dark he laughs. (jerk) During the night, several people in town hear a howl, but don’t know where it comes from. The next morning a linesman out to fix the power lines finds a drifter frozen in terror, arms up to defend himself, with his shirt chewed open and frozen blood pooled around him. There are also paw prints around him. Wolf prints.

The snow has melted as it turns to April. There is talk now of a wolf that is attacking people. Some are considering leaving where it is safer. But the weather is good with a nice breeze, so there are people out flying kites. One such person is a boy named Brady. He got a new kite for his birthday and he flies it all day. He doesn’t notice that everyone else has gone home until it is almost dark. So he starts to wind up the sting on his kite. His dad is going to be made he was out so late, but he also remembers the rumors that the kids at school are talking about. About the wolf that killed the drifter last month, and Stella and Arnie before that. But he doesn’t believe it. Until now. As he’s rolling up his kite, it snags on something so he goes to look and comes face to face with the wolf running toward him on two legs. The search party find him the next morning, headless and disemboweled leaning against the War Memorial.

In May, the Reverend Lester Lowe wakes up from a nightmare. He has dreamed that he was giving the best sermon of his life to a church filled with the townspeople. He was claiming that The Beast Walks Among Us, that he was everywhere. It was then that the people in the pews started turning into werewolves, people he knows. And when looking down at himself, he has turned into one too. The Reverend wakes and realizes it is just a dream, that’s all. Yet in the morning when he opens the church, he finds the janitor, Clyde, that had worked there for years, sprawled out on the pulpit, his broom nearby. The Reverend screams.

June rolls around and Alfie, who runs the only café in town, starts thinking of maybe closing early and going to watch a movie since no one is coming in. Everyone in town is afraid of the killer that comes during the full moon. But he isn’t scared, he still has the muscle he earned in the Navy and weighed over 200 pounds. As he thinks about closing, the bell goes off at the door indicating a customer. And it’s one of his regulars. He turns to get a cup of coffee and is stunned when he sees in the polished chrome of a canister, his customer suddenly starts to change. His face is shifting, fur is growing, and his clothes start to tear. He can’t believe what he is seeing, that one of Tarker’s Mills own residents, who he sees every day is the changing. Alfie screams in fear and tries to stumble away, but the Beast is soon upon him, tearing him open.

Marty, a boy in a wheelchair, is disappointed that the fourth of July fireworks have been canceled. His parents say it’s fine, there’s always next year and his sister is gleeful because he finally didn’t get what he wanted because he was a cripple. No one understands; he had been looking forward to it for months. Having to sit in his wheelchair just watching the kids play in the snow, it had been one thing he could enjoy. But it had been canceled because of The Full Moon Killer. Some kids at school said it was some supernatural being, but Marty didn’t believe it- that only happened in the movies. But there could be some crazy guy out there that just killed during the full moon. But they had canceled the fourth of July because of it. Only his Uncle Al understood and without anyone knowing, he gave Marty a package of fireworks so he could have his own fourth of July. He just said to use it at night and not the noisy ones or he will be in trouble with his sister. So that night, Marty waited until the house was asleep, got himself out of bed by moonlight and rode out of the French doors to the outdoors. He opened up the package of fireworks and lights some of the smaller, noiseless ones. He is happy he gets to have his fourth of July. But suddenly by the light of a firework, he notices something coming toward him. It is the Beast. He is frozen in terror in his wheelchair and watches as the thing approaches him on 2 legs and reaches for him with vaguely human hands. Without really know what he’s doing, Marty lights one of the big fireworks and throws it at the Beast’s face. The firework goes off and the beast screeches in pain and Marty sees one of the lamp-like green eyes go out. The Beast then runs off. The noise of the fireworks has woken up Marty’s parents and sister. The next day they will ship him out to his Aunt and Uncle’s house for the rest of the summer because the Full Moon Killer might come back to finish the job. Yet even though he is shocked, he believes it is the best fourth of July he’s ever had because he had looked into the face of the Beast and survived.

Constable Neary is telling his captive audience of the Barber Shop in August that he does think there’s a werewolf but not in the traditional sense. He believes that there is a guy out there with a split personality and that on the full moon he goes out and kills someone. It could be anyone, hell it could be someone sitting in the room now, he’ll look normal on the outside, but someone who sprouts hair and teeth, no. That’s kids’ stuff. The Barber asked about Marty Coslaw and what he saw, and Neary said again kids’ stuff. He hadn’t been able to talk to Marty Colslaw about what he saw that night. He was the first eye witness to someone who had killed 6 people so far and he hadn’t been allowed to interview him. He had to make do with a deposition by the state police. Not that it was worth anything. According to the report, the Coslaw boy saw a “beast” that was seven feet, covered in fur, big teeth, green eyes and had claws that looked like hands. Neary thought it was bullshit. One of the patrons of the barber said it could be a mask, but Neary didn’t believe any of it. The boy saw a werewolf because kids at school were talking about a werewolf that was all. Yet because of his disgust of the report, Neary overlooked the last line that said that the fireworks went off in its face and took out its left eye. He could have been looking for someone in town wearing an eyepatch and at that time, there was only one person wearing one, but it was impossible to believe that person could be a killer. No, the only way that this killer was going to be caught was by good police work. Yet later that night, Neary’s life comes to an end when parked at a crossroads outside town. He believes it then because outside his car door is a being with fur, teeth, and snout. He tries to scream but the Beast tears out his cheek. He forgets about the guns in his belt but remembers what the patron said at the barber about it being a mask, so he grabs at the fur on the Beast and yanks it, but it doesn’t budge. Only a sound of pain and rage comes from the beast and it then swipes at his throat with a human-like hand with claws and he bleeds out. The beast then feeds on him.

The weather is still hot when September comes. Students suffer from being back in school in stuffy classrooms. Husband and Wives argue for no reason. At the gas station, a tourist gives the attendant, Pucky, some lip about the price of gas and Pucky hits him with the gas nozzle. The tourist had to get stitches and mutters of lawsuits. But Pucky later tells a friend at the Pub that he only hit him half-force. Milt the librarian puts his wife in the hospital over a dirty dish; she has a broken nose and the back of her head is bleeding. He tells the hospital doctors that she fell down the stairs; his wife, too scared to refute him goes along with the story. On the night of the full moon, the heat breaks and a cool wind springs up. Early that morning, Elmer hears his pigs in their pen squealing, more like screaming. He gets up to check, taking his rifle with him, but his wife pleads with him not to go out there. They then hear a wolf-cry and she is able to pull him back to the living room where they sit and wait, listening to the pigs crying, slowly stop. They hear a wolf-cry again and Elmer looks out the window to see a shape running out to the woods. Later that morning, Elmer finds all his pigs dead, disemboweled and partly eaten. He calls his brother Pete over and Pete tells him this has to stop. That the next full moon, there should be a hunting party to get this creature who is doing this, it’s clear it’s a werewolf with the tracks left behind in the mud. People in town have to start pretending it isn’t happening. Elmer agrees but says not this full moon, but the next when there’s snow for getter tracking. But people better look out this coming full moon.

October is pretty quiet compared to the last months. There has been no new murder and people in town think that the threat is over, that it was just a drifter or tramp that had just moved on. But others are not sure because there had been four deer found dead on the turnpike after the October full moon and Elmer’s pigs in September. And Marty knows better too. He has just come back from Halloween trick-or-treating with his father. He went as Yoda with a rubber mask and a robe to hide his skinny legs. While out getting candy, he finds out who the werewolf is. It was during his outing and the werewolf had dropped candy into his bag, though now he had his human face on. Marty knows it is because he’s wearing an eye patch and there is a similarity to the man’s human face and the beast he saw that summer night in July. Ever since he had come back after the summer, he had kept an eye out for anyone in an eyepatch, but hadn’t seen anyone. The town was small but spread out, so he hadn’t come across anyone with an eye patch, until now. He had told the police he was sure the fireworks had taken out his eye, but they didn’t seem to believe him. He hadn’t been able to figure it out because the man was not Catholic because…it was the Reverend Lowe of the Baptist Church. When Marty’s father commented on his eye, the Reverend said that it had been a tumor and the eye had to be removed. But it was God’s Will and he was adjusting. Marty lay in bed later but was wide awake. What did he do now?

Now November, Reverend Lowe stands at the door to his church watching the line of trucks leaving town. They are the townspeople led by Elmer and Pete to go hunt the werewolf with their rifles and their dogs to bring an end to this nightmare. Some of them go to just skylarking, out to have fun and drink beer and hunt squirrels, but some are serious like Elmer and Pete. But it is not them that makes Reverend Lowe worry, it is the letters he has been receiving. The notes are written on a child’s school paper in childish writing, addressed to him and unsigned. It is one line, like the others. This one says “Why don’t you kill yourself?” He burns it like the others. What the Reverend Lowe is, comes to him in stages. The first is discovering Clyde’s body in the church after the dream he had. He realizes that he feels really good the days of the full moon.  He has also noticed that he has bruises and scratches on him that he can’t explain, his clothes are dirty and torn and sometimes he has found blood on his hands and lips. But it is easy to just not think about it. But then one day, the day after the fourth of July, he woke up blind in one eye. There had been no pain, but the gored, blasted socket where his eye had been. He couldn’t deny it anymore, he was the Beast. Reverend Lowe can now feel the sensations of the change coming, but he is smart. The hunters think only of the wolf and not the human, he will simply drive down to Portland and wait it out. But there is still the notes. He doesn’t know where they are coming from. They began at the beginning of the month with “I know who you are” There were 5 notes total now telling him to end his life or leave. He doesn’t want to though. He didn’t ask for this, he didn’t even know how it happened. He wasn’t bitten or cursed, but he did remember picking some flowers in a cemetery last November but they had wilted and turned black before he even got to town. That may have been when it started. But he is not an animal. Yet he still doesn’t know who wrote the notes. He doesn’t know about Marty because the attack had not been reported in the newspaper and he didn’t listen to gossip, nor does he remember anything when he is the Beast. But he will not kill himself, he is a man of God. He does good, even if he does some bad things. God will strike him down when He wills it. But as he thinks, he paces and wonders who has written the letter, how did he lose his eye, and if he should ask around and listen to gossip. As he paces, he starts to change so he jumps into his car and drives down the coast and checks into a hotel. At that hotel is Milt. He has told his wife he is away on business and is instead in this hotel with another woman. Later that night Milt leaves the room to get some Bourbon from the car he was attacked by the one-eyed Beast. The last thing he hears is the snarl of the wolf before his head is torn off. The next day, Reverend Lowe reads about Milt’s death in the paper but does not feel bad because Milt was not a good man. It was the Lord at work. He then thinks that he has to find the kid sending him the letters, the kid he attacked in July and silence him. Forever.

December comes cold and with changes. Milt’s wife, not free of her abusive husband, leaves town. Gramma Hague who made the best pies died of a heart attack and the library got a sizable donation and will begin construction on the new children’s wing. But nothing has changed for Marty. The Beast is still around and he knows it will come after him. So he calls his Uncle Al, the only one who will listen to him, and tells him everything. What he saw and who it is, and what he has been doing, writing letters to Reverend Lowe. He had even signed his name to the last two notes he sent. But the Reverend did nothing. He then tells his uncle that he wants a gun with 2 silver bullets because while the Reverend as a human couldn’t do anything, but the werewolf could on the night of the full moon on New Year's Eve. And unless his uncle wants his death on his conscience, he would get him a gun. So, he did. He went to a friend of his and had a silver spoon melted down and made into 2 silver bullets. And much to his mother’s disproval since she was still mad at him for giving Marty the fireworks, Marty announced that Uncle Al was coming over for New Year’s Eve. So the last day of the month, the day of the full moon, Marty and Uncle Al were staying up while everyone else went to bed. They were waiting. Marty had a gun with the 2 silver bullets while Uncle Al had a normal gun with lead bullets. And they continued to wait, it was getting close to midnight and Uncle Al thought nothing was going to happen until the window suddenly busted open and the Beast appeared. Uncle Al couldn’t move in shock but could see that the Beast was exactly as his nephew described. Marty was calm as the Beast came toward him and shot him when he got close. The werewolf screeched in pain and crashed into the wall, but it wasn’t dead. It was confused and then went to attack Marty again. But he just waits until the Beast leaps and shoots him again, this time through the other eye. The Beast screamed in pain and staggered back out the broken window and got caught in the curtains; it collapsed in the snow and dies. Hearing the commotion, Marty’s father comes running down the stairs and sees the Beast and stares at it in shock. As they watch, the Beast twitches and starts to change back revealing the human form of Reverend Lowe. Uncle Al hugged Marty close who was crying, but it was now over. The Beast is now history in the New Year.

[olderjustneverwiser]

Tell Me All the Ways to Love You (Sam Winchester)

Well, I finally finished my first Supernatural fic. I’m season 11 into my Supernatural rewatch, and watching ten seasons of Sammy Winchester has made me fall in love with him again, and this is the product of that. This is based off of this list, ‘100 Ways to Love You.’ As always, huge thanks to @moresvuheadcanons for all of her help!

Word count: 5016 (go big or go home, am I right?)

Warning: So much fluff, angst, probable overuse of commas, some canon divergence.

Happy reading and enjoy!

o n e

You shivered as you, Sam, and Dean made your way through the old cemetery on the outskirts of some small town, looking for the grave of a man whose ghost had been wreaking havoc for the past few days.

With every step you took, you cursed yourself and your choice of clothing for the day. It had been a beautiful day; sunny and breezy, just like you like it. So you decided to dress light, opting for only jeans, boots, and a tee while you spent the better part of the day posing as beat reporters with Dean; Sam opting to go to the local library and do research. You had forgotten that the temperature tends to drop once the sun starts to set in this particular part of the country, though. Which left you shaking in your leather boots, salt and gasoline in hand, searching for a stupid old grave. Your teeth chattered as you walked, something that did not go unnoticed by one Dean Winchester.

“You alright there, Princess?” he joked.

You rolled your eyes at the nickname he had given you years ago, “Just cold. Ready to get this over with and go back to the motel.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” Sam spoke up, stopping at a headstone a few feet ahead of you. “Just found our guy.”

-

It was Dean’s turn to dig, so you and Sam leaned against a large headstone while you watched Dean. Sam couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of you shivering. You were clearly miserable.

“Why didn’t you wear a jacket?” He asked.

You let out a huff. “Well, the weather was just so nice today, so I didn’t think about it. And since we haven’t been back to the motel since this morning, I’m left freezing my ass off.”

“Oh come on, it’s not that cold out here.”

“Says the human space heater.”

You felt Sam’s eyes on you for a moment longer before he shrugged his jacket off, uncovering not one but two more layers of clothing underneath. Before you could ask him what he was doing, he was placing the jacket around your shoulders. You instantly felt warm and safe, the smell of his shampoo and soap surrounding you.

His hand lingered on your shoulder just a moment longer than what was probably necessary, but you didn’t think anything of it. “Here. Take my jacket.”

t w o

Your head hurt. That was the first thought you had when you woke up, for once thankful that the bunker didn’t have windows to let any light into your bedroom. Not yet wanting to move out of your warm spot in the bed, you rested your eyes a bit more, mentally kicking yourself for drinking so much with the Winchester brothers.

After years of living with them, you think you would have learned that you couldn’t keep up with them when they were on a binge. The three of you were having a great time last night, though; laughing and joking around like you hadn’t in a very long time. One drink turned into quite a few, and after a long while you had forgotten just how many times you had filled your glass with whiskey. So you stumbled off to bed, leaving the brothers to drink the night away by themselves. Though it was obvious by the pounding in your skull and the severe case of cotton mouth that you hadn’t cut yourself off soon enough.

Slowly turning your body to check your phone on your bedside table, you noticed a glass of water and a banana, no doubt left there for you by the younger Winchester. Sam was good to you like that; always looking out for you and helping you whenever he could. It was one of the many things you loved about him.

You drank the water quickly and nibbled on the banana, not particularly wanting to eat, but knowing that you should. As you ate, the smell of freshly brewed coffee came through from the kitchen of the bunker, making your mouth water and tempting you to leave your cocoon.

You slowly got out of bed and made your way down to the kitchen, barely acknowledging Sam leaning against a counter as you made a beeline for the coffee pot. A groan left you when you noticed it already empty.

“Rough morning?” Sam asked with a knowing smile.

“You could say that,” you replied dryly as you searched the pantry for the canister of coffee you kept. “Where’s the coffee?”

Sam didn’t answer right away. “Oh, um, I kind of just took the last of it. Dean left to get more. Sorry.”

You turned to look at him, noticing the sheepish smile gracing his face and the coffee mug in his hands.

“Seriously? Since when do we not keep this place stocked with coffee?” you dropped dramatically onto one of the chairs at the table, resigned to waiting until Dean came back. Sam sat next to you at the table, placing the near full mug in front of you. He looked at you, the kind smile he always wore when he was with you on his face.

“You’re lucky I’m such a nice guy,” he said. “We can share.”

t h r e e

“It’s not up for discussion anymore, Sam.”

“Do you not realize how dangerous this is?”

“This whole life is dangerous! I’m. Doing. This.” You turned your back to Sam before he could get another word in and stomped off to the grimy motel bathroom. You were just wasting time arguing with him and you needed to get yourself ready for the night.

The three of you were down in New Orleans hunting a group of vamps. Two women had been found totally drained of blood within the past week, and they were both last seen at a bar near Canal. Thanks to Sam’s keen eye for detail, he was able to spot a suspect in the security footage from both nights, even when the police hadn’t noticed him lurking in the crowd. You suspected that the vamp who picked up these women was low on the totem pole, probably only being used to bring them to the alpha of the group, because both women shared very similar physical characteristics.

It appeared that the alpha had a type, and it just so happened that you fit that type perfectly.

When you brought this up to the guys, Dean considered it, but Sam immediately refused to let you go into the bar as bait. He reasoned that it was too risky, that too many things could go wrong. After a quick reminder that last time you checked he was not your father, husband, or keeper, and you could do whatever the hell you wanted, his refusal turned into a plea for you to reconsider. He insisted that you could think of a better plan. However since Dean thought that this was the best thing to do, Sam reluctantly agreed, still trying to talk you out of it while you got dressed. You squeezed into your tightest jeans and put on way more makeup than your normal ‘foundation and mascara’ look, and exited the bathroom, eliciting a low whistle from Dean.

“How do I look?” You asked.

“I’d pick you up if I saw you lookin’ like that.” Dean winked. If looks could kill, the one he got from Sam would have taken another one of his seemingly endless supply of lives.

You laughed, “Good, that’s the point, I guess. Now let’s go catch some freaks.”

-

Since the motel was only two blocks from the bar, you had decided to walk, discussing the plan for what had to have been the tenth time. You and Sam hung back while Dean entered first, both to scope out the joint and to not seem like the three of you were together. Laughter and music poured from the entrance, Zeppelin’s ‘Whole Lotta Love’ filling the silence between you and Sam.

“You sure you want to do this?” He asked suddenly. “We could sit and keep an eye on him; watch him try to pick up chicks.”

“The woman he picks up may not be able to defend herself like I can, Sam.” He nodded, but something was bothering you. “Hey, why are you so worried about this? This isn’t that big of a deal.”

Sam opened his mouth and quickly shut it, clearly wanting to say something. He was quiet for a beat, then waived it off.

You weren’t convinced, but it had been a few minutes and you needed to get this show on the road. “I’m going in. Wait five minutes, then come in?”

As you walked toward the entrance, you felt a gentle tug at your arm. You looked back to find Sam at the other end of the arm that had reached for yours. The look on his face told you there were a million things he wanted to say, but only two words came out.

“Be careful.”

f o u r

Three swift knocks on your motel room door startled you from the game show you had been watching, trying to distract yourself from the terrible day you’d had.

An involuntary sigh slipped past your lips as you contemplated not answering. You had a hunch as to who was knocking on your door, and part of you didn’t want to talk to him after the last conversation you had with the hunter. You wanted to pretend to be asleep and ignore this problem until tomorrow, but he knocked again and called your name, clearly wanting to talk. Clicking the small TV in your room off, you made your way to the door to answer it. An uneasy feeling hit your stomach when you saw Sam’s face, your mind replaying the last time you had seen him.

To say it had been a long day would be a tremendous understatement. The three of you were hunting down a very elusive shapeshifter who had managed to kill four people since you had arrived in town, and it had tensions running high between you. Between that, Abbadon, and trying to decode the demon tablet, the three of you were all on edge. It all came to a roaring head when you finally had tracked down the shifter’s most recent hideout; an old abandoned factory on the edge of town. Upon hearing screams coming from inside, you ran in while the boys were still forming a plan; desperate to save these people and finish the job.

After the hunt was finished, you and Sam walked back to the Impala while Dean cleaned up what remained of the shifter, not a word spoken between the two of you during the short walk. Sam threw his silver blade into the back of the Impala unceremoniously before finally breaking the silence, yelling at you for not waiting for him or Dean as backup. You had never seen Sam this angry with you before. He was relentless, saying that you had been stupid, foolish. Only when you screamed back at him with tears in your eyes that you had learned that from him did he stop his rant, allowing you to slip into the back of the car without another word.

Now, it seemed as if Sam had finally calmed down. He had his hands buried in the pockets of his jacket and he avoided your gaze. You noticed Sam’s shoulders visibly relax when you moved to the side to let him inside your room. Sam sat on the edge of your bed, running a hand through his hair before he spoke.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

Looking into his eyes for the first time since your argument, you noted the guilt and shame in them. You just stood in front of him with your arms crossed, silent. His words were harsh, and it was going to take more than a feeble ‘I’m sorry’ to make it better.

Sensing this, Sam took a breath and spoke again “Really, I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that. I’m just so stressed out about these stupid tablets, and the trials, and I’m worried about Kevin, and Dean, and you, and I took it out on you. I just don’t want to see anyone get hurt.”

“Sam, it’s going to happen. Hell, it has happened. I’ve been hunting with you guys for years now. You know how good I am. And it still happens to me, and you, and Dean. It’s just hazards of the life.”

Sam nodded, “I know, and that won’t happen again. I just worry about you.”

Your heart softened at that. “I know you do, and I’m glad you do, but you need to let me do the job.”

“You’re right, it won’t happen again. I’m sorry.”

You uncrossed your arms and wrapped them around his neck in a hug, silently telling him that all was forgiven and Sam reciprocated instantly.

You pulled away after a moment, briefly contemplating closing the gap between the two of you once again; finally undoing the not doing with one simple kiss like you had dreamt of doing for so long. But, you decided against it, leaving things just the way things were.

f i v e

Of all the things that could go wrong in this line of work; all of the monsters who wanted you dead, you would have never guessed that your complete lack of coordination would be the thing to keep you out of the game.

You had been cooped up in the Impala for hours with the guys, travelling to your next case. Dean hadn’t stopped driving for close to six hours, saying he “didn’t want to waste daylight.” Not that you really minded; it allowed you to stretch out in the backseat and relax before this case, but you were getting restless. Right around when you hit the six hour mark, Dean took an exit just outside of Bloomington, Illinois to fill up on gas and grab a late lunch, and you were beyond excited to get out of the car for a few minutes.

So excited, in fact, that your feet tripped over one another as you got out of the car, causing your right ankle to snap as you fell.

Dean tried to catch you before you hit the ground, but it was too late. Your ankle began to swell almost instantly, and you found yourself right back in the backseat of the Impala, Sam wrapping your ankle while Dean got the food.

Two hours later when you had finally arrived at a motel in town, the swelling in your ankle had gone down, but only very slightly. You had been ordered by both Sam and Dean to stay on the bed with your ankle elevated while they got changed for the hunt.

“Me and Sammy are gonna go to the station, see what we can find,” Dean said as he slipped on his Fed shoes, “You - stay on the bed and keep that foot up.”

“Dean, come on. It’s not that bad,” you argued. You did not want to be stuck in this room after being in the car for the better part of the day.

Dean only smirked, walking across the room to the door. “Not that bad, huh? Walk over to me, then. Without wincing or limping.”

You stood, determined to pass this little test of his. However, you groaned in pain after just one step. “Dammit,” you muttered as you sat back on the bed. “Fine, you win, I guess.”

He didn’t even attempt to hide the triumphant smirk on his face,  "That’s what I thought. Stay in bed.“

Sam emerged from the bathroom just then, seemingly having heard the whole exchange, "It’s probably for the best.” He said.

“It’s just a stupid little sprain,” you grumbled. You were nothing if not stubborn.

Sam shook his head, taking a seat next to you on the bed. “It looks like a pretty bad sprain, actually. It shouldn’t have swelled that fast. Besides, you’d slow us down if you came. You know that.“

He was right, of course. You would only slow them down, and you knew they couldn’t afford to have any distractions while they were on the job. Besides, how could you argue when Sam was looking at you with those sad little puppy eyes of his?

“I know, you’re right. Go kill yourselves a monster, I’ll be fine here.”

With a quick pat to your good leg, Sam stood from his spot on the bed to fluff a pillow and carefully placed it under your right foot. “There’s snacks in the bag and drinks in the fridge. We’ll be back soon. Call me if you need anything.”

s i x

Your bare feet ached as you ran through the barely lit corridor. This hall was never ending; everytime you thought you’d reached the end, the walls would only stretch further. The only sounds you heard were your heart thudding against your chest and feet smacking against the cold concrete floor. You were terrified and alone, and your body was begging you to stop running, but something in you knew that you had to reach the end.

Just when you thought you couldn’t go anymore, you saw a figure crumpled on the ground a few feet in front of you. Despite the burning in your lungs you pushed yourself to keep running until you reached it, and you couldn’t help but fall to your knees when you saw what was waiting for you at the end.

"No, no way.” You felt as if you were going to be sick; you didn’t want to believe what you were seeing. His skin was cold as ice as you grabbed him, confirming your fears. Your knuckles turned white as your grip on his arm tightened, “Son of a bitch, NO!” The shriek was loud and deafening in your ears; you barely recognized the voice as your own.

You heard a familiar voice calling your name, but it was muffled, almost like it was coming from outside, wherever outside was. Your eyes couldn’t leave him, though. You heard the voice again, closer this time.

And just like that, the haunting visions from your nightmare were replaced with your dark bedroom at the bunker. You no longer felt cold and you felt a set of warm hands on your bare arms, presumably what woke you. You chest heaved as you attempted to calm yourself; the terrible feeling in your guy still there.

The hands that were holding you left your arms and reached to click on your bedside lamp. You closed your eyes at the sudden light, but a soft, calming voice let you know that it was Sam.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you felt Sam brush a few pieces of hair away from your face as he spoke. “You’re okay, just breathe.”

Focusing on Sam’s voice and his words, you tried again to ground yourself. The panic you felt and the uneasiness on your stomach slowly ebbed while you collected yourself, taking a few deep breaths, just like Sam said. With your breathing almost back to normal, you opened your eyes to see Sam sitting next to you on the bed, his eyes filled with worry.

“Feel better?” He asked.

“Yeah, thanks.” You glanced at the clock on your nightstand, it read just after three in the morning. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“No worries, we all get nightmares from time to time. I’m surprised you didn’t wake Dean up, too. You were screaming loud enough for me to think something had gotten in here.” His tone was light, but you still hated that you had woken him up just because of a stupid nightmare.

Sensing your discomfort, his smile faltered. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You gnawed at the inside of your cheek for a moment, trying to decide what to say. You don’t tell him that you dreamt of him, cold and lifeless. You don’t say that you knew, somehow, that this was it. There would be no saving him or bringing him back to life. He was gone, empty. Dead.

“Uh, it was the wendigo. From the hunt last week.” You lied.

Sam looked skeptical. “A wendigo made you scream like that?”

“It was attacking me,” you replied. “It was a pretty vivid nightmare.” That part wasn’t a lie, at least.

It was apparent that he didn’t believe you, but he thankfully let it go. “Do you want me to stay? It may help you sleep better.”

Though your heart jumped at the chance to sleep with him next to you, you didn’t want him to feel obligated. “I’m fine, Sam. I’ll just watch TV or something 'till I pass out.”

“It’d be just like when we share a bed on hunts. You always seem to sleep better when we share, anyway.”

After a quick nod from you, Sam crawled under the covers with you and clicked off the lamp. You turned onto your side to face away from him and felt a heavy arm drape around your waist. You two had done this a hundred times, but you never tired of this feeling.

“You sure this is okay?” You whispered.

“Trust me, this is fine.” Sam pulled you a little tighter to him. “I don’t mind.”

s e v e n

Your foot tapped impatiently on the linoleum tile of the hospital as you watched Sam sleep. You and Dean had been waiting in his room for hours silently urging him to wake up, or at least move a finger or something. Anything let you know that he was still there.

The hunt had been a total clusterfuck. The three of you had gone in totally unprepared for what was waiting inside, but all hunters know that if you get the chance to gank the sorry S.O.B. you’re after, you take it. So, you had stormed the warehouse with only a gun and the silver blade you kept in your boot, Sam and Dean close behind with a few weapons of their own. Surprisingly, the fight was over quickly, Dean stabbing it straight through the heart just before it could get a hold of you. After a quick inspection of Dean to make sure he wasn’t too hurt, you noticed Sam wasn’t with him.

As if Dean could read your mind, he looked behind him. “You seen Sam?”

Panic flooded your mind as you shook your head, and the two of you went separate ways searching for him. Nothing could have prepared you for how you found Sam, slouched against a wall unconscious, blood leaking out of a wound that seemed to come from his abdomen, and another one from his forehead. You screamed for Dean, trying futility to move him and hold pressure to the stomach wound at the same time.

You were a wreck the whole ride to the nearest hospital. You sat in the back with Sam, combing his hair with your hands as you tried not to think the worst. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you yelled for Dean to drive faster, knowing he was already driving like a bat out of hell, but you didn’t care. The logical part of your brain wasn’t working. The only thing you could think of was getting Sam help.

-

Three cracked ribs, a dislocated shoulder, too many cuts, scrapes, and bruises to count, and a severe concussion. The doctor on call had informed you and Dean that they had done all they could, stopped the bleeding and made him comfortable, but he had lost a lot of blood. That combined with the head injury was serious, and now it was all up to Sam to wake up.  It was your worst nightmare come to life.

So, now, you and Dean were in his room; you at his bedside since you had first walked in, your small hands holding one of Sam’s. The room was silent save for the steady beeping on the monitor.

Dean mumbled something about getting you both some more coffee and you nodded absently, your gaze not leaving Sam’s face. God, it was torture seeing him like this. Sure, you had seen him with broken bones and blood pouring from wounds all over his body, but never this bad. Never not here. He always bounced back. This was different, though. No one could tell you if he would come back or not.

You sent a silent prayer to whoever was listening for him to just wake up and be okay. You weren’t ready to do this life without him; not yet. There were too many things you hadn’t done, too many things you hadn’t told him. If this was it, well, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself.

Sam’s fingers twitched then. It was barely noticeable; you thought for a moment that you had imagined it, but then they moved again, more this time.

“Sam?” His name came out as a gasp as you looked him over, seeing that his eyes were finally open again. Those kind, hazel eyes that you weren’t sure if you’d ever see again were looking up at you through heavy lids. He smiled softly, whispering a quiet “Hey, you.”

“Dammit, Sam,” you cried out, your grip on his hand even tighter as you felt your tears start anew, this time out of sheer relief. “I was so fucking worried about you. I didn’t know what was going to happen; if you were coming back.”

“I’ll always come back to you,” he said whispered, squeezing your hand with his own, “Don’t worry about me.”

e i g h t

This was far from where you expected your night to go, but it’s not like you were complaining.

You, Sam, and Dean had completed a successful hunt earlier in the evening. While you normally hit the road right after hunts, Dean had decided that you were going to stay the night, saying something about hitting up a few bars in the city. You had declined his offer to join him, and Sam quickly followed suit, much to your surprise. Instead, he suggested that the two of you do something fun that didn’t include crowded bars and playing pool. Without much convincing on his part you agreed, happy to get some alone time with Sam.

Which is how you found yourself alone with Sam and a six pack of beer on a secluded bench across the river, looking out towards the city. You couldn’t help but think about how date-like this felt. The thought made your heart flutter.

“How did you know this was here, Sam?” you asked, taking a sip from your beer. It was a beautiful little spot; the bright lights from the city sticking out against the dark night sky and the reflection on the water.

He shrugged, “Honestly, I didn’t for sure. I just figured there would be a few nice spots along the river. Turns out I was right.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, “Well, thanks for being right, Sammy. It’s gorgeous.”

Sam snaked an arm around your shoulders, humming in agreement. It was something he had done a million times before, but this time felt different in a way you couldn’t put your finger on. You leaned into him, pretending for only a moment, that the two of you had normal jobs, normal lives. You let yourself make believe that this was a normal occurrence; being out on a date with the man you loved.

Even with the city noise and the hum of cars crossing the bridge, you swore you could hear Sam’s heart pounding in his chest. You turned to look at his face, and were surprised to find him already looking down at you. Sam slowly brought a hand to your face, brushing a few rogue hairs away and cupping your jaw in his hand. He seemed almost hesitant, like he was testing you. Making sure you wouldn’t turn away from him. You had never before seen Sam so unsure of himself.

You searched his eyes for a brief moment trying to find a reason behind this, then something clicked. This sudden private outing to what had to be one of the most romantic spots in the city, Dean’s constant insistence of “He loves you, ya know.” The way Sam was looking at you, like he was trying to see inside your soul. You realized that your feelings for Sam may not be as unrequited as you thought.

Before you lost your nerve, you did the one thing you had wanted to do for as long as you could remember. You gently pressed your lips to Sam’s as your own little test. You had to make sure that this wasn’t just wishful thinking on your part. When Sam answered by pulling you closer to him, you felt yourself practically melt against him. This felt so right, as if these were the lips you were meant to kiss for the rest of your life. You pushed even closer to him, wanting to put everything you had left unsaid into the kiss. That he was worth it, that he was enough. You wanted to show him that despite all the things he had done, that he was deserving of love, and that as long as he wanted you, you weren’t going anywhere.

You wanted him to know that you loved him.

He pulled away slowly, smiling wider than he had in a long time, “I’ve wanted to do that for so long, you have no idea.”

You were sure that your smile matched his, “Yeah, me too, Sammy.”

You opened your mouth to speak; to say those three little words that had been on the tip of your tongue for what seemed like forever, but Sam beat you to it.

With another chaste kiss to your lips and a brush of his hand on your skin, he whispered,

“I love you.”

[mattness]

Space Dementia

Here we go again, my friends ^^  OTP: Jenniwise   And another chapter of my fanfic! Hope you enjoy IT! :D  //// Chapter IV. "Are you sure that I can get to the airport in Bangor on this wreck?" questioned Jennifer, standing in the garage near the old Audi, which occasionally went grandmother. The car didn't start for the last three years because Christine didn't see the need to go anywhere far. Now the car was covered with a layer of dust and quietly waiting in the wings, and Jennifer very much doubted that it would start at all. She ran her hand over the silver bonnet, noticing the rust on the wing. 

"I already started the engine", smiled Chester, throwing the keys with her daughter, and she somehow managed to catch them. "It remains to pour gasoline, and you can safely get to Bangor." "Somehow I very much doubt it, dad", chuckled the girl and sat down behind the wheel. In the salon it smelled terrible rubber mixed with gasoline. Jennifer wrinkled her nose, placing her hands on the steering wheel and looking through the dusty windshield. She immediately adjusted the rear-view mirror to make herself comfortable. The rear window had to be wiped as well as the front, otherwise the road will not be visible. The girl put the key in the ignition and turned it. As expected, the first time the car engine didn't even think to start. It just rattled piteously, and Jen had to re-turn the key. On this time the motor earned, loudly growling on the whole garage. The brunette smiled, and Chester standing in the garage near the car, a fairly clapped her hands. "Why don't you take it for a couple of blocks?" the father offered, having approached the car from a driver's seat. "You said there was no gasoline", Jennifer recalled and turned off the engine. "In the canister just for road in Bangor. Maybe we shouldn't waste it?" "As you wish", he shrugged. The girl got out of the car and smiled at Chester. He adjusted the glasses on the bridge of his nose and flipped his daughter on nose. "You're so happy to be back in the big city. I thought we'd spend more time together here in Derry. Still, the repair is not finished yet." "I'm leaving only for an internship. You will not notice how the week will fly", assured Jen, hugging dad. "It isn't a fact that they will be taken me there. I'm not ready to write articles about girls’s problems all the time." He laughed, patting his daughter on the back, and looked into her eyes. "Don't doubt yourself and your powers, Jen." "I have no doubt. I'm just sane estimate about my chances." Chester was again pulled her to him and sighed. He still could not accept the fact that his little Jennifer was no longer such. And it was that horrible day when she is forced to leave home to begin an independent life. He knew that sooner or later this day would come, so now it was only necessary to accept. He will be crazy miss her and ask her to come to Derry often. "I'll miss you, Jenni", voiced his own thoughts Chester, tightly clutching her in his arms. "Me too, daddy. But I'll be calling, and I'll be back soon. You'll see", smiled sadly Jennifer and stepped back. "Okay, okay. No more veal tenderness! Let's clean this old lady up." The girl found among a heap of garage trash bucket with a sponge and immediately ran to fill it with water. It turned out that under a layer of dust was hiding a beautiful silver-white paint, and a little later, in the sun, Audi already glistened with purity. Jennifer smiled at her own reflection in the windshield, wiping it with a sponge while his father was at that time a hose was watering the trunk and the roof of the car. She even thought about what this piece of junk now after the water treatment, looked quite passable. On such a machine is not ashamed to appear in Bangor. From her own thoughts Jen snorted. * * *  That evening she packed all the necessary things for the first time in a compact suitcase. MacBook fit in the bag, which was a cosmetic bag and other important things. Then she gathered herself: wearing blue jeans with a black t-shirt, and over it threw a warm red bumper. Quite nodding to her reflection, Jennifer looked out the window. Weather by the evening spoiled, that doesn't surprise Wright. The clouds in the sky were gathering and a strong wind was blowing. Seems, the storm coming, thought she. But even this storm will not prevent her from leaving Derry for an internship to New York. Money for a high-speed train, a ticket which cost three times more expensive than the plane, wasn't at all. So Jen decided to save money and get to Bangor, and there from the airport to fly to New York. The flight will take about the same time as a high-speed train ride. "Are you sure you want to go now?" asked father, as Jennifer has already sat in the car and drove it out of the garage. "Maybe you should wait out the storm?" "It'll be fine, dad", Wright waved, smiling at him. "Here to go something quite nothing." "All right", he sighed, and leaned over to his daughter, who sat behind the wheel, to kiss her cheek goodbye. "Good luck. Call me when you get to the airport.” She nodded and closed the window, gently pressing the gas pedal. The car slowly drove to the roadway and drive away from Derry, yellow headlights illuminating the way. The city was rushing through the window. There were lights everywhere and no one in the streets. Began to drizzle rain, so Jen included "janitors". A pleasant feeling of euphoria did not leave her. The mood was great in such nasty slush. The brunette felt that she was about to start her independent life away from her parents and some stupid obligations. If she initially didn't want to leave father alone in Derry, after a month realized that there is nothing wrong. Jennifer saw how happy he was here. He liked his work and quiet lifestyle. She even didn't interfere in his routine, afraid to break this silence. And now, when the girl left home, he probably will come off in full. He will call his local friends to visit and maybe then be able to find love after a long ten years. Jen really wanted this. Rain gradually intensified, and outside the window began to hear thunder. "Janitors" almost could not cope with the amount of water that continuously flooded the windshield. Jen cursed under his breath, trying to focus on the road. The suburbs of Derry has ended and the car drives on the broad highway along which, every ten meters stood a tall poles with lights and covered the road. But even that didn't help much. Already began a real downpour, and in the sky and then periodically flashed lightning. Jennifer continued to swear under his breath, thinking about what a hell it's like something was trying to keep her in Derry. As if bad weather forced to return back. But to return back already was too far. To Bangor had another half hour of the journey, and machine, to the surprise of the hostess, still driving on the highway without any interruption. It worked almost like new. However, Jen occasionally heard some rattling from under the hood, but it's not enough, for disturbing. Probably some kind of old piece is trying to fall off, but the car was still on the go. Wright quietly concluded that hammering stuff under the hood isn't so important for the operation of the motor. Again rose a strong wind and into the oncoming lane wide highway suddenly a tree fell, breaking a few wires and blocking the path of cars. Several lights immediately went out. A real hurricane started, why Jennifer was seriously scared. She grabbed the phone, which was lying on the passenger seat, and with GPS began to look for the nearest motel or hotel to wait out the storm. The brunette sighed with relief, knowing that the nearest town was quite a bit. Orono was literally one mile off the highway. On the map she immediately found a good hotel, which is located in the center of the village. Throwing the phone to the side, Jennifer turned the steering wheel to the right, and the car turned off the highway. The clock ticked loudly and a unpleasant along with a running "janitors" was terribly annoying her. For an hour drive the mood was spoiled, and the weather outside continued to rage. The machine arrived in Orono and rushed to the three star hotel, which girl planned to wait out the hurricane. However, inside something suggested that she would have to stay in the hotel for the night, because such a storm is unlikely to end in a couple of hours. On top of that, the tank ran out of gas, and the knock in the hood intensified of the car. Coupled with the "wipers" and the hours, too, began to irritate Jennifer. She exhaled with relief, noticing the right sign. Finally, you can take a breath and freshen up, thought the brunette. The car drove into the hotel territory stopping at the entrance. To the surprise of Jen, to the car ran over the doorman with an umbrella and kindly opened the car door for her, holding out his hand. The girl used the help and, having grabbed a bag, together with the man ran in a spacious warm hotel. Even having been on the street just couple of minutes, Wright managed get wet. "Did you reserve a room, miss?"- asked the doorman, removing the umbrella. "No, I would only..." she began her long story, but was interrupted. "We have affordable rooms available. Go to the reception", the young man smiled at her friendly and returned to the front door. Jennifer blinked, staying in a light stupor a few seconds and then followed his advice. The girl immediately looked around. She stood in the middle of a spacious living room, done in warm Reds and golds. For a three-star hotel, the place looked quite good. Under the white ceiling hung a magnificent chandelier, and the floor was parquet and carpets. To the right of the entrance there was an area for tourists, where there were small sofas and chairs with coffee tables. Even now, at nine o'clock in the evening, it was crowded. All sat in phones or watched TV, or read books. To the left of the entrance was a small shop with Souvenirs and other trinkets that would remind you of the arrival at the hotel and Orono. In front of the entrance there is a reception, to which Jen after a couple of minutes of inspection of the lobby confidently went. The same young girl as Wright stood behind the reception and is already warmly smiled at her. Jennifer uneasily smiled and pressed the little call tweaked for the whole hall and attracting the attention of some visitors of the hotel. "Sorry. I always wanted to do that", honestly admitted the brunette. "Good evening. Can I help you?"- politely asked the administrator, pushing the loud bell to the side, away from the new visitor. "I need a cheap room for one night", Jennifer said in a slightly husky voice, but immediately cleared her throat. "Double or single?" "Do you see anyone else here besides me?" said the girl quipped, propping head with hand. The administrator nodded and buried her nose in a computer monitor, starting to look for a vacant room. Jennifer again began to explore the hall, suddenly felt someone looking at her. She tried to find this man among the campers, and her attention was attracted by a young man who immediately looked away. From afar, she could not really see him, so the brunette smiled and turned back to the administrator. "We have rooms from the fifth to the eleventh floor. They all cost 150 $ a night." Jennifer nodded and, selecting a room on the ninth floor, with a backpack and a keycard walked quietly toward the elevator, located at the end of the corridor. Clicking on the call button, she turned round and again looked at the hall. The feeling that someone watched closely, not left her. Elevator arrived, and she confidently set foot in a spacious cabin. * * * As soon as there was an unpleasant ringing at the reception, he immediately distracted from the boring book and looked at the new guest of the hotel. Imagine his surprise when he saw a young girl of twenty-five, soaking wet from the rain and like a child smiling to the administrator. She looked as pitiful as a kitten who was thrown out on the street. Wet black hair stuck to a pretty dark face with freckles, and blue eyes began to explore the luxurious hall. Inside slowly grew so familiar feeling of hunger: still, he has not eaten for several days, and maybe this person is quite suitable for dinner. In his head began to mature brilliant plan to lure another victim, which eventually should end with a good dinner. On his mouth smug smile appeared. However, it instantly disappeared from the face, he took notice how the girl managed to track down his gaze. Only now he realized that he indecently staring at her thinking through every paragraph of his cunning plan. The stranger received a keycard and quickly went to the elevators. He never took his eyes off her. Probably should have found out what floor her room was on. Right now it was worth getting up and catching up to get acquainted and instantly penetrate the unprotected human mind. But he didn't do it. Something stopped, and, dissatisfied with growling to himself, as he buried back into the book. "Mr. Grey", said the doorman, touching his shoulder. "Yes?" "Dinner will be in half an hour. You asked for a warned", explained the hotel employee, and he nodded in response. "The new guests will also be at the dinner?" the left corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk. A man in red uniform followed Grey's gaze, noticing a black-haired girl near the elevators. He smiled contentedly, realizing the true intentions of a wealthy guest of the hotel. "I think so. I can tell her to go down to the restaurant for dinner." "Don't say anything," he waved, drawing attention to the book again. "If she wants, she will come." The doorman nodded and left, continuing his work. * * * Jennifer, taking off her wet clothes, threw on the shoulders of a bathrobe that was in the room. She sat down on a soft double bed, picking up the phone and immediately wrote to his father that she stayed the night in the hotel to wait out the raging hurricane. The answer wasn't long in coming. She smiled, rejoicing that forced dad not to worry. A cozy room with a great view from the window of at a small Orono pleasantly relaxed. The room was warm and dry. The rain outside the window poured like a bucket, the wind howled, and bright flashes of lightning periodically repeated with deafening thunder. It seemed that the hurricane would sweep away everything in its path, and even this is a temporary shelter for Jen. Thoughts about the trip to New York warms the soul, and the dream gradually took possession of the mind. The brunette did not mind to disconnect right now. She don't have to go anywhere anyway. She closed her eyes, making herself comfortable in bed, and preparing to plunge into the Kingdom of Morpheus, but a loud knock on the door disturbed her calm. Jen jumped out of bed and pulling on the face of his most polite smile, already opened the door. On the threshold stood one of the porters of the hotel. His an important kind of a long embarrassed the girl. "What can I help?" she asked, coughing softly in her palm. "Miss Wright, come down to our restaurant for dinner," a smirk appeared on the old man's face and he walked slowly back to the elevators. "Dinner? At half past eleven in the night?" said Jen, looking out into the corridor. "Is that necessary?" "Your dinner has already been paid." The girl raised her eyebrows in surprise, not understanding anything. Was liked her the doorman at the entrance or to the girl-administrator at the reception that some of them decided to pay for her dinner at the restaurant? In any case, Wright was not a fool and miss this opportunity - to eat for free - certainly not going. Slamming the door in the room, the brunette pulled out of the bag dry clothes: regular jeans and a decent white sweater. Looking at the reflection in the mirror, Jen appreciated her appearance: for a restaurant, of course, it was no good. Her black hair still not fully dry, slightly curled and fluffed. She smoothed them over and sprayed them with varnish to avoid sticking out in different directions. Make up the lashes mascara and highlighting the eyes with eyeliner, Jen smiled to herself. Now she can go to a restaurant, she thought. By taking over phone and the keycard, Wright locked the door and go to elevators. In the spacious cabin, except her, went down an old man she didn't looked. The stomach growled for the whole Elevator, causing the girl's cheeks suddenly acquired a pinkish hue. She heard the old man burst out laughing. Finally the cabin was on the first floor, and Jen hopped out of the elevator, stepping confidently in the direction of the restaurant. Before it opened doors, and she again felt, that proved in some very expensive hotel, not in the usual with three stars. Maybe this place has struggled hard to get two more stars to raise the prices of all its services? Stepping on the threshold of a large hall, Jennifer unwittingly opened his mouth. Perhaps, in such places she has visited extremely rarely. Money never be enough for this. The room was slightly dimmed light, and each of the white tables were compact lamps. Somewhere in the background played nice classical music, and the number of people forced Jen to doubt that she was in a small town of Orono. Can be, it all of this dream? Anyway, have this dream a very good start, thought the girl, and sat down at a free table. To her immediately the waiter came, saying that dinner tonight at the expense of the restaurant. Flattered by such attention, Jen smiled and shyly took the menu. While she was choosing her dishes, the waiter filled the empty glass with dry white wine. The brunette looked through the prices of food, realizing that she was very lucky. In her purse was not half of the money for which it would be possible to order at least one dish. "Empty place?" suddenly a pleasant male voice rang out over her ear, and Jen was immediately distracted from the menu. The tall young man smiled at her amiably. His dark brown hair was perfectly combed, black suit emphasized broad shoulders and at the same time terribly beautiful thinness. Large gray-green eyes slowly studied her neat snub nose, nice cheekbones, and plump lips that were meant for kissing. Jennifer blushing, suddenly understanding, that sees in him very similar traits with its former classmate Roy. She swallowed and turned around, looking around. Not wrong by any chance this handsome? All this must be a dream, again thought Jen, embarrassed stronger. "Uh, aren't you at the wrong table?" voiced his thoughts out loud the girl. "No", now the smile on his face was two times more charming. "Can I sit?" "Yup. Please", mumbled red as a lobster Jen nervously he picked up the glass and drank deeply. The man boldly sat down opposite, his hands folded in the lock on the table. He continued to study Jennifer, without ceasing to smile mysteriously. From such turn of events the head of the girl literally went dizzy. She was in a panic, not knowing how to behave with a person who is in financial position stood clearly above her. "And what made you sit at my table? Looking for a one-night stand? So I told you right away that I had the wrong table..." immediately quipped the brunette finally looking into the large eyes in front. "I can't just acquaint with you?" sprinkled with laughter handsome, leaning back in his chair. "For some reason, people, as soon as they find out about my wealth, immediately try to lick my ass. This is terribly annoying, especially if it’s done by females. I hope you're not like that." Jennifer chuckled, shaking her head. She's certainly not the one he meant. Dreams of a rich prince on a white horse or a white Maserati, no matter what, never visited Wright's head. Girl perfectly understood, what wants from life. And these plans certainly never had to "find a rich handsome guy to hang around his neck for the rest of her days." "What's your name?" continued guy. "Jennifer", she introduced herself, and thought that he looks an awful lot like Roy and it doesn't let her rest. "I'm Robert Grey. Nice to meet you, Jen." The girl was surprised, as he forcefully cut her name without even asking permission. And it's on the fifth minute of the meet! On Robert's face appeared again smile, but this time it was something dangerous and a little frightening. However, the brunette did not attach much importance to this. After all, she still thought that was fast asleep in my room, fantasizing about Roy, that he suddenly became fabulously rich prince. "It was quite crazy!" flashed in the girl's head, which barely withstood the gaze of the green eyes opposite. "You know, you're terribly similar to one of my friends", couldn't resist, honestly admitted Jennifer, when the waiter came to the table. "Really?" willfully surprised Robert did the ordering for both of them. "Yeah. One in one virtually. Maybe you're his lost twin brother." sneered Wright, what caused another chuckle of a mystery man. After a few minutes of silence, she added awkwardly, "It's nice to meet you too, Robert." "Just call me Rob." He watched as Jennifer looked away sheepishly and smiled. A strand of black hair she gently brushed behind her ear and reached for a glass of wine. Behind her was damn interesting to watch, and madly tossing of thoughts in her head made him difficult to know more about her. Before Robert Grey, Jen was just an open book, which he silently read, learning more and more details of her life and not forgetting to talk to her aloud, otherwise a long silence would have aroused suspicion. It's a pity she'll never know who he really is, thought Grey. Although carry on a conversation with his next victim, oddly enough, was very interesting. Perhaps the massacre of Jennifer Wright should not be rushed. On the lips of men again appeared sinister grin. It will be a small and exciting game. Definitely.

[purkinje-effect]

The Anatomy of Melancholy, 21

Table of Contents Go to first. Go to previous. Go to next.

TW’s for pharmacology weirdness and Jared behaving like Jared. Long chapter ahoy.

Melancholy said nothing how things had gone at the assembly plant once he returned home to the pharmacy that night, and he appreciated that Angel at least didn’t seem to catch on that things weren’t right. With his brain already itching with all the tangential proximity closing in on him to his past life, against his judgment he bestilled it all with a dose of Calmex right before bed. In his position he couldn’t afford REM sleep, couldn’t afford dreams--or nightmares.

The chemist’s first task the following day was to confirm Jared’s belief that hubflower contained opioids. He consulted his Merrick Index at length and returned to it often that week. Plucking a few flowers from the hub plants in his office garden, he shut himself into the lab, whereupon he slurried the hubflowers with a pestle and a can of water, and simmered the paste with a hot plate until the liquid grew milky from latex. As he waited, he read the various periodicals salvaged from the grocer’s, or skimmed the inventory to scrutinize its usefulness to the new parameters of his work.

“Sir...” Angel came into the lab with a carafe, mug, and sweet roll. “Could I interest you in a break?”

“I... would love that.” He wiped the sorry and sweat from his face, at being caught in the act, and closed the gun fanatics’ journal to face his Handy. He accepted the warm cup in his hands, and let the steam fog his glasses. “To address the elephant in the china shop. I know you’re wondering why I’m tinkering on what’s supposed to be my day off. My contract’s... changed a bit. Hopefully, not a long-term detour. But he’s got me studying... these plants. He thinks they’re... medically relevant.” When he couldn’t smooth out his cracking voice, he drank the still-hot black beverage to silence himself.

“You’ve worked so hard for Mister Jared,” it insisted after a pause. “I hope you’re not sacrificing your time off this weekend. With you working today, Mister Jared has allowed you an offset weekend, I pray.”

“He’s given me a week before I have to apply what I’ve learned about these plants for the-- medical purposes-- he’s outlined. It’s all highly specialized study. His outfit is having an epidemic problem, and... hopefully this won’t do more harm than good.”

He crushed the compulsion to doctor his caffeine under his heel, and took another drink. It was almost comfortably cool enough to do more than sip at.

“Oh, how I wish you had as much faith in your talents as I do, Mister Carey! If Mister Jared has the confidence you’re the one who can heal his associates, you should believe it twice over. Look at the bars you port. The Americans won Anchorage in part because of you.”

“Can we-- not talk about Anchorage,” he stuttered quietly. He had to set down the coffee on the counter to keep from spilling it in unsteadiness.

“Forgive me, Sir. I’m an unbridled bundle of enthusiasm. I forget at times how hard it was on you to work all those long hours. I double down on my prior remark--you shouldn’t work yourself to the marrow, no matter the urgency or enormity of scope of a project. Taking care of yourself is just as tantamount. Humans aren’t so different to robots. Operations tend to start shutting down if left untended, if you catch my meaning.”

“I... you’re the only real friend I’ve got, Angel.” Melancholy sniffed, looking to it. “Ever since I thawed out, it’s been nothing but what I can do, what I can make. What use I am. I won’t be of any use to anybody, if I push myself until I keel over dead.”

“That’s the spirit.” It neared him, its ocular sensors small and close together just as his tendrils. “You... you mean it, Sir, that you consider me a friend?”

“Truest blue,” he smiled, putting a hand to its spherical chassis. “In every sense, I don’t think I could do it without you.”

“Oh heavens above, you give my continued operation meaning!” It whirled about eagerly, only making ‘Choly smile wider as he slouched back in his wheelchair with the mug in his hands to watch. In a moment of awareness, it set down the pastry and carafe on the counter, and offered up a fresh canister of condensated water from the corrugation just above its thruster. Then, it sped off in search of something to tidy. “Thank you!”

“No... thank you... To think, a mess of metal and circuitry can have more compassion than fifty men.”

Though the irony of being worked to death to synthesize Psycho was not lost on him, after the exchange the gravity of his work lightened significantly. Grateful that the Mister Handy’s condensators had made pure water slightly less scarce, he added the canister to the simmering vessel, and did so several more times over the course of the day, cooking down the plant matter until it completely deliquesced. He then strained it all and simmered the particulate-free solution until it crystallized.

An unfortunate side effect to working where one dwells, he was forming a track record of falling asleep at his desk. Presented with the clearish opalescent salt mix the following morning, he was loathe to determine through isolation of compounds and a series of acid tests that hubflower did in fact contain a composite of narcotic alkaloids. Morphine, paramorphine, codeine, papaverine... and several he could not identify even comparing the test results to the Merrick Index. The most plentiful of any of these alkaloids, he termed hubeine.

Curious whether he had been tricked as to the ornamental nature of any of the other plants from which he had cultivated his little garden, he too collected samples of each and proceeded to run acid tests akin to those he’d applied to the hubflower. The glowing fungus contained compounds similar to chelation agents, which could form the backbone to synthesizing fresh RadAway, if it came to it. Though the melon vine had not yet fruited, the flowers tested positive for eugeroics, and he wondered what purpose the melon itself might serve. He confirmed with excitement that he’d correctly identified the wrinkly sac-like fungi to be the nootropic brain fungus used to make Mentats. The large aquatic lily-like scarlet flowers with white speckles contained an alarmingly high concentration of tropane alkaloids. He expected it to be more closely related to a waterlily, but it seemed somehow more akin to nightshade. Taxonomy in the Wasteland did not follow his entrenched logic tracks, so he discarded them and simply let the findings say what they would of these specimens.

On the fourth day, ‘Choly with the assistance of Angel made a trip to the apartment complex down the way with the swimming pool. He stored his coat in Angel for the errand. His breath snagged at noticing Jerry watching him sternly from her catwalk, and he wondered who else might be watching.

The two rounded the stairs up to the pool sandwiched between the C-shaped formation of the building itself, and he dismounted from the Mister Handy with his cane, to wade into the shallow end of the overgrown involuntary pond. This was where the raiders had found tarberries. They were so similar to cranberries, down to how they grew on the surface of the water, and yet he wondered if their name was a corruption of barberry... and on that hunch, he crouched at two feet deep to feel around for a few handfuls of the dark wine-colored clusters of fruit.

“Sir...”

The chemist picked up his head to find three raiders standing around the pool with their weapons drawn, but not yet directed at him. Eyes fixed on them, he tried to back up the steps of the entry end of the pool, but stumbled back and fell with a shallow splash and a nervous laugh.

“This doesn’t look like what Jared says you’re supposed to be doin’,” the man said, still holding a makeshift copper-pipe rifle.

“Y’coulda asked first,” one of the two women continued with a lyric sarcasm, admiring the blade she’d affixed to a tire iron. “We’d a said no either way, but.” The third raider goose-honked in approval.

“I’m testing a theory for him!” ‘Choly insisted, trying again to stand. The rubber stopper of his cane couldn’t gain traction underwater, even against concrete, and he fumbled again, but stayed standing this time. “I know it’s not hub, but I think these are going to have compounds I need for working with the hub. You... you can be his eyes and ears for all I care. Tell him he was right. After I see if I’m right about these--” He scooped up from the water’s surface what he only then realized he’d dropped, and held out a fistful. “--After I test these, I’ll be able to come talk to him formally and explain the consequences of him being right.”

“Get back to work, chemist,” the third raider jeered.

As he finally afforded mounting Angel again, he mumbled with a grunt, “Thought you’d never ask.”

Back at the pharmacy, ‘Choly went around barefoot in the wheelchair while his dress shoes dried out. With a detached glaze of distress and animation, he popped one of the tart, ripe berries in his mouth and chewed at its firm flesh while he gathered together the materials to test the compounds in the fruit. His sneer at the flavor melted into a comfortable grin as he got to work mashing the berries. Even if not ultimately pharmacologically significant, they sure might make a fine preserve in the right hands. Once he got the pulp prepared, he popped a Berry Mentat and let his mind wander while the lengthy extraction process began.

Concessions must be made. There had to be other chems he could provide. He couldn’t make peace with the idea of solely providing cyclomorphine, or whatever analogue to it hubeine could create, to the inhabitants of Lexington. He couldn’t be the Psycho chemist again. He just couldn’t.

His trauma-addled brain again laced back through the index of hypothetical compounding he’d penned during his Berries-and-Jet evening, and he sat staring at the simmering soupy mess. All work and no play... he’d go insane. A creative mind has to create. Surely, if Jared dabbled in Jet and Psycho up to now, he’d be interested in sampling just about anything in his pursuit of a psychogen--if not for the full purpose Jared had laid out in his terminal entries, then at least for the purposes of ‘growing his ranks’ with the promise of the most lavish and unique buffet of chems in Massachusetts.

And barring opioid manipulation, Melancholy was best at manipulating nootropics. A skill developed out of necessity, under pressure the former necessitated the latter. Mentats seemed to fit the closest description to anything Jared sought to achieve with his manipulation of the human psyche. He could work with Mentats on the side. Test out his theoretical new flavors, bake up classics like Orange and Grape. His sentimentality came in lozenge form.

Doing so would require fresh materials for it. Jared’s outfit might not like scouring the city for mushroom hunting, but the chemist was certain they’d trade the minor nuisance in a heartbeat for the comfort of a warm Mentat. But, how to even get on that line of conversation with the raider leader in the first place...

“I... really did happen upon Eden,” he uttered to himself, awing at the positive test to barberine in the tarberries. “All the pharmacology I could ever need, right down the street, or in my very garden.”

On the tail end of his Berries trek, he threw together a single batch of Grape Mentats from the hubflower extractives--and a little whiskey for good measure. He’d need the anxiolytic and nerve to make it through the next day.

‘Choly slept better than he had in weeks, and awoke rested despite feeling woefully unprepared to face Jared first thing. Before Angel took him to work, he again tucked his Merrick Index back into the Handy’s storage. He could feel supervision at every turn of the city they took to round up to the assembly plant. He wheeled up to the foreman’s mezzanine sucking on a Grape Mentat, where Jared stood waiting, and he went up the ramp to the office. The raider leader came inside and took a seat, kicking his legs up on the desk and pulling out his switchblade to play with it idly.

“So I’ve heard you came to tell me I’m right. I like to hear when I’m right.”

“Good morning to you, too,” ‘Choly huffed, straightening his tie and composure. “Yes, the hubflower contains a lot of the same salts that opium did. I’m sure you’ll like to hear I was right, too--about some of the other wasteland plants being... chemically useful. I can make cyclomorphine for you, or something very, very close. But in order to get that far, you promised me months ago that you had a cache of Abraxo Cleaner. Did you ever intend to pay out on that? I hope for both our sake’s you weren’t bluffing.”

Jared waxed from boredom to zeal to irritation all in a matter of five spoken sentences. He was about to object, but ‘Choly continued.

“Navigating the Jet rig project would have gone much more smoothly if I’d had daily access to Mentats, but I’d had to meter myself because I didn’t have a way to cook the goddamn things. Drawing off gas requires a lot of math, but very little science. And the level of chemistry I’m going to have to utilize to reinvent the wheel will be impossible to reach let alone sustain without the use of my specially formulated Mentats. It was a suggestion before, but it’s a requirement now. I need that soap, Jared. And you need it because you need me.”

Jared could only stare at him at length.

“You trying to tell me that your genius is thanks to some chem? Some chem,” he scoffed, nearly incredulous. “God, your sad excuse for a personality makes so much sense now. You’re in constant withdrawals. Yeah, chemist. I’ll nurse your habit if you hold up your end of the bargain.”

“And one more thing?” ‘Choly flinched when Jared thought it was another demand, but stayed firm. “I’ve noticed more eyes on me this week. Don’t have faith in me?”

“You misunderstand me.” Jared grinned, putting away his knife. “I’m protecting my finest asset. You know, you weren’t the only one doing his research this week,” he began pulling a book from his desk drawer and flipping through it for a particular part. “This is a textbook about the Battle for Anchorage. Here, there’s a unit about the Deenwood Compound. He who controls history, and all that.”

‘Choly frowned and balled his fists in his lap, unsure where this was going. That college textbook had to have been new the very year the bombs fell. With his full attention, Jared continued to read the passage with a vague lyric.

“’Maximizing the efficiency of our foot soldiers’ fighting power helped us meet the turning point to overpower the Chinese and retake Alaska. General Constantine Chase commissioned the Deenwood Military Compound in the New England Commonwealth to synthesize and perfect Psycho (known by the military symbol CM) for our illustrious military. Chase’s keen scrutiny selected the cream of the crop of the Chemical Corps, and from it he forged what is now known as the Pharmaceutical Corps, or Pharm Corps. Our expert knowledge and application of chemistry and pharmacology provided the edge America needed to push past the underhanded tactics of the Chinese.’ --Oh!”

Jared stopped reading a moment to excitedly point to one of the photographs, and he stood to continue dictation.

“Figure 16.4, ‘Major Johnston and Three of His Pharm Corps Chemists.’ We have... Left to right... Second Lieutenant Gary Sydney, and Captains Olivia Francis and Alan Carey. Alan Carey! This is rich. The richest shit on the planet.” Jared shoved the book in ‘Choly’s face and jammed an accusing finger at the photograph where the Deenwood scientists had lined up for a casual photo full of smiles, then at the nameplate on ‘Choly’s coat. “That’s you, isn’t it. It’s you, you freezer burned fuck. 'Cept you weren't in the chair before. ”

‘Choly did his best not to look the part of revulsion, and did his best to unclench his everything. He glared at the photograph of himself, oddly fixated on how badly he missed his crescent half-eye eyeglasses.

“So you’ve been reading a civilian-level textbook about where I worked. You can’t possibly believe you know even a fraction what transpired at Deenwood.”

“And pray tell,” Jared grinned, wild and mocking as ever, “What exactly transpired at Deenwood?”

Speechless, ‘Choly’s jaw hung open and trembled at the mere attempt at humoring this topic. His eyes lost focus for some time.

“Nightmares I could never put in words.” He scowled at Jared, who went from mad to furious. “Do you want me to make you cyclomorphine or not?”

“If we’re done having objections to it,” Jared emphatically smacked the book shut with both hands, “then we’re done screwing around. I know you’re not bullshitting me that you’re a high level chemist. I know who you are. I know what you did before the war. And you’re going to do that for me now.”

The chemist stared at his own feet.

“Loud and clear. But let me make myself loud and clear. None of the patients or soldiers who were administered CM came back swearing they could predict the future. You’re barking up the wrong chem. I’ll do as told, but I won’t make the same mistake I made two hundred years ago. I’m fucking saying something this time. This isn’t the chem that will find your fortuneteller.”

“Do you have a better plan, then...” Jared picked up ‘Choly’s face by the chin to force eye contact, “Chemist.”

“The mode of uptake might be what’s preventing the chem from getting the desired results,” he started, palms sweating. He could palpably feel the Grape Mentats fading right when he needed it most, and his heart raced. “Compounding the chem could alter how the body absorbs it. Which organs it goes through to get where it’s going. I could-- I could compound BuffJet. Make the hallucinogen go straight to the pineal gland. Or Jet-Tats. Make the Jet soak right into the entirety of the grey matter like it’s just another neurotransmitter. Buffout is the harder option, for a lot of reasons. I have way more knowledge with Mentats chemistry, and way better ability to cook up large quantities of it.”

“This is all leading up to another catch. Don’t-- don’t derail me.”

“The catch...” ‘Choly squinted to flinch. “I haven’t compounded with Jet before! It was one of the rarest psychedelic drugs on the market before the war, and there was next to zero literature on it back in my day let alone now. I understand what it is chemically. I just haven’t proven or documented it.”

“Just minutes ago, you were questioning whether I have faith in you. Don’t flip on me, Melancholy. Makes you look like a fucking flake. You were one of the US Army’s best chemists. You’re going to make this compounding work. In the mean time, you’re going to cook us all up a nice big mess of Psycho. And you’re not going to have me lose my patience. You want soap? It’ll be on your stoop first thing in the morning. But you’re going to do as you’re told.”

“Am I being told to get back to work then?” The pained exasperation couldn’t have been thicker.

“You’re being told... to fork over some of your darts.” Jared lunged to reach into the chemist’s coat to withdraw the requested object from one of the suspender cases. He read the box. “Pax Syringes. Hm. And here I thought you cooked your own ammo for that thing.”

“I, I do. Those are just what the gun was made to fire.”

“It can be made to fire whatever the fuck I say it does.” He pocketed it and pointed to the door. “Cook my Psycho. And go back to your showmanship. I’ll make sure you get a real big turnout. This town’s overdue for some fucking revelry.”

“I... I’m being paid in soap for this.”

“You’re the one who named the asking price, you fruit. Sounds dumb as dirt when you put it like that.”

“I... I want the revolver back when you’re done with it. I won’t do--”

‘Choly cried out and tried to shield his face when Jared lunged at him again, only to lean his hands on the armrests to crane in inches to ‘Choly’s face.

“You want your little handgun back. That’s cute. You’re going to earn it. Now GET OUT OF MY OFFICE!”

Jared shoved him down the mezzanine ramp, and only through some miracle did he manage to get enough traction with the heels of his dress shoes to regain control of his own pace. Angel rushed up to its owner and immediately took over powering the wheelchair along.

“Do I need to dismantle Mister Jared for you, Sir?”

He hung his head and withdrew into himself in indignity.

“I’ll do it my fucking self.”

Go to Next »»»

[sinangoral2017-blog]

[06.15.17] today, i had the privilege of visiting the family-owned mushroom cultivation farm, oyama no taishō, which has been perfecting the art of shiitake mushroom farming for over 24 years. i’m still a little flushed and surprised that they allowed for someone like me to come to their farm, but i’m not questioning it. let me walk you through the organization of events prior to my visit, as well as the farming day, itself.

i had really been struggling with their website, since it is completely in japanese. thus, finding any contact information provided quite difficult. over the several days i have been in japan, i asked as many japanese natives as i could on how to navigate the website. surprisingly, it wasn’t any hostel worker who got me through, but some random girl on the street urging people to come into the made-famous ‘maid cafes.’ i don’t even want to get into what i think about those places, but if you want to look it up, check this out. 

in either case, this sweetheart named yuna helped me decipher the site, and i was able to email the farm. within hours, an equally friendly lady named takako emailed me back with broken, albeit discernible english. after basic introductions and several back and forth emails, my research intent became clear to her (as clear as ‘building materials using mushrooms’ would be lololol) and we gained an understanding of expectations from one another. i was invited to the farm, and she even suggested that they pick me up from the train station. google maps only showed a 1.3 km walk, but she insisted. i obliged, and set towards haneda.

well, boy was i grateful for their pickup. the 1.3 km drive, in the minitruck, took over 20 minutes. the farm happens to be on a severe incline, and the winding roads to go up to it present daunting cliff overhangs. the same stuff from the movies. no joke. 

a young man named takashi picked me up. we couldn’t really speak to one another in light of the language barrier, but he seemed to exude a lot of excitement. as i later found out, it was pretty rare for people to ‘randomly come through to the farm.’ in retrospect, i must have been the most bizarre visitor to see them. 

once we got to the farm, takashi introduced me to takako, her mother, and her father. i met some cute cats (whose names i cannot remember), and then takashi took me of a tour of the facility. 

the farm has several ‘houses’ that house prepared logs, dropped off by a partner logging company. these logs stack either vertically or horizontally. temperature and humidity are meticulously controlled in these houses. as takashi explained to me, ideal humidity levels never go over 80%, and temperature never exceeds 90 degrees. 

the logs continually cycle through misting (humidification), heating, cooling, and flushing (in cold water baths)to expand and contract. any log can spawn several generations of shiitake mushrooms, but can only continue for this cycle for up to three years. 

takashi also explained that there are several benefits to horizontal and/or vertical growth. none of these benefits affect taste per se. rather, they affect the aesthetic quality of the mushrooms and their directional growth. you can see, for example, that all the shiitake which have blossomed out of the vertical logs arch upwards. depending on the consumption method (i.e. grilling, frying, etc), this affect might be more desirable. 

you might be asking yourself: ‘okay, these logs are prepared, cycled through, and nurtured. but how do they give birth to mushrooms?’ good question. throughout the three to four hours i spent on the farm, i had the same underlying question pestering me. though i should’ve asked earlier, takashi explained towards the end of the day the two ways in which they can implant mushroom spores into the wood - both of which accomplish the same thing, but do so with different speeds.

the first involves a gun resembling a drill punches a hemispherical cavity into the log. after this space has been excavated, a tool resembling a pneumatic nail gun fills this cavity with a paste, which is also provided by a partnering company. though we got confused with one another when i asked about what kind of ‘paste’ this was, i have a pretty good idea from my own research that this paste was mostly fungus/spore based - a mycelium paste, of sorts. i would’ve uploaded an image of the canister, but i’ll spare you, since i’m not sure if any of my readers know japanese. 

the second method does exactly what i just explained, and in the same order, but through automation. the huge (and beautiful... drool) machine resembling a diesel tank engine does just this. takashi powered this up for me and showed how a log enters into the machine’s claws, gets ‘stamped,’ turned, stamped again, and then filled. one log can be covered in +/- 20 dimples in around 15 seconds. pretty efficient, pretty japanese.

we then picked my favorite mushrooms and grilled them for lunch. no sauces other than soy sauce to top them off, yet they were the most delicious vegetables i’ve eaten in a while. they still reeked of that fresh dirt smell - sort of akin to a recent rain. combined with the smokey coals of the grill, to me, the mushrooms needed no other taste. sure beats organic trader joes mushrooms.

though none of my research (at least at this point... ~ massages beard inquisitively ~) is interested in the taste qualities of mushrooms as they relate to architecture, the experiences i gained at this farm are invaluable to me and my research process. one thing that utterly failed in my previous mycelium experiments was the actual cultivation of the mushrooms in an efficient way. though the farm specializes in shiitake, specifically, i’m sure that i can adapt the insight i gained towards my own work.

now that my visit to oyama no taishō has come to a close, i plan to continue down south along the east jr line. tomorrow morning, i’ll leave for hamamatsu if i cannot stop in shizuouka beforehand to take photographs of mount fuji (the town offers some pretty spectacular views, i hear), but i also worry that the weather will not allow me. it has been especially foggy and rainy here, so i might have to skip out. nonetheless, i’ll be in nagoya by tomorrow night, and plan to stay there for a couple of days.

from nagoya, i’ll head down to kyoto and osaka and soak those cities up for a few days. i’m planning to travel to tottori on june 21st, because i was finally able to secure a meeting and tour with the tottori mycological institute. i probably shouldn’t even start writing about that yet because this post has gotten too lengthy, but let it be known that i am inexplicably pumped to somehow get a foot in a door, there. 

after all of this, i’ll be slowly returning back to tokyo because i secured some visits and tours of some non-architectural ‘museums’ of sorts. more on this later... but those of you who know me and my side obsessions with tuner culture might be able to guess what comes out of japan. hint: ~ jdm ~

i don’t think that i’ve expressed this at any point in this blog, but something peculiar happened to me when i was on the subway, still in tokyo. i mention it only because it might help explain why i am so in awe of japanese culture, and why i respect the diligence and discipline of the country’s work ethic.

i happened to get off at the same station as a well-dressed man in a suit at around 9:30 or 10:00 at night. he was carrying a briefcase and sporting some kind of expensive watch. his shoes were shiny, and his walk upbeat. he sped up, and i lost sight of him. but i remembered the back of his head distinctly, because he had this iconic mole on the left side of his neck. i have a thing for moles.

nonetheless, some minutes later, i took a wrong turn in the subway system and ended up in a small alley tunnel. i ran into my businessman friend, again. he had just finished changing out of his suit, shielded away in this alleyway, with thousands of people rushing by, oblivious to his existence. realizing i was invading in on his privacy, i turned around - he never noticed me, because he had his back to me. but i happened to catch a glimpse of his mole to clarify his identity, as well as his new attire. it was a navy blue worker’s uni-suit with indiscernible writing on it. written in english, however, was ‘crane operator.’ 

it then dawned on me how hard working people are here. businessman by day, and crane operator by night, this guy was working his life away. suddenly, studio life became irrelevant. so did my coffee job. thoughi wasn’t necessarily looking up to him in awe, i just couldn’t believe how someone could juggle so much, from such seemingly different sectors.

it’s in this way that i am intrigued by japanese culture - specifically by its workforce. people use the train to catch shut eye. most aren’t on their phones to socialize, but get work done. it’s unlike anything i’ve ever seen.

also, a lot of people have blackberry phones here. honestly, that’s the easiest way to my heart.

and, to conclude, a brief aside - thank you so much to all of you who have reached out and connected with me to provide feedback on or encourage my writing of this blog. that people are actually reading this makes me really happy. keep the questions and inquiries coming - and thank you!

oh, and for any of you nerds who want to learn more about traditional mushroom cultivation, check out this pdf from the university of vermont. 

[cosmicstardustcastiel]

Grocery Store Valentine

Pairing: Dean/Castiel

Valentine’s Fluff for the DeanCas Sweetheart Challenge: 

SFW: No Smut

Castiel had ridden along with Dean to pick up groceries. Sam usually did the shopping but Dean simply could not choke down  anymore Kale, salads, or smoothies. He needed real food.

“You mean junk food…” Cas murmured at his back at Dean’s lament on Sam’s shopping practices as he shadowed him around the store.

Dean gave Cas a face of mock offense. “Bite your tongue, and since when do you side with Sam about food? Burgers and pork rinds are considered junk and they’re your favorites…”

“<i>I</i> can’t get heart disease either…” Castiel murmured with a hint of a smile on his lips.

As they shopped in companionable silence, Cas noticed the Valentine’s decorations and candy on the end of every aisle. “I’ve never understood Valentine’s Day being associated with Cupid. Cherubs are not interested in dating and relationships. They force people to fall in love. Very against Team Fee Will’s mission statement.”

Dean nodded his head in agreement, his mouth shaping into a frown. “Good point. Screw Valentine’s Day…You know I used to call it Unattached Drifter Christmas…I would swoop into bars and find lonely women and show ‘em a good time. Figured I was doing my part to cheer them up. Think I was just trying to cheer myself up really.” Dean stiffened then, realizing he was being a bit more revealing of his feelings than normal. He did that with Cas…It was annoying. As they went down every aisle, throwing in essentials like bread, sandwich meat, cheese, and milk, occasional anomalies would appear like Oreos and Slim Jims. Neither commented when they both threw in a bag of pork rinds, grinning to each other.

“Sam’s going to eyeroll for days, but damn it, I like Oreos! I didn’t get a childhood. I deserve cookies at least, I mean damn,” Dean laughed as they turned left onto the next aisle. He hadn’t been paying attention. It was that stupid Seasonal aisle and it was piled high with stuffed bears, hearts full of chocolates, and boxes of paper Valentine’s. Dean tried to make good time down the aisle but it was full of last minute husbands scrambling for gifts. Dean realized it was February 13th…the poor bastards. Dean shared a few looks with the men searching through the candies and he smiled sympathetically as he turned off the aisle. “Man, that makes me glad I don’t have to worry about that stuff, right Cas? Cas?” Dean looked back down the aisle and he saw Castiel talking to a man at the other end of the aisle. Dean’s eyes narrowed and he turned his cart around to make his way back down the red and pink splattered aisle. As he came up on the two talking, Dean knew right away the man was flirting with Cas, who was completely oblivious.

“Cas, man, come on. We’ve got to get the rest of the groceries and get home…” Dean growled out more aggressively than he intended, putting his hand on Castiel’s elbow.

“Sorry, Dean. This man, Daniel, was asking me about good places he could take a date for Valentine’s. I informed him I thought he might be unable to get reservations at this late of a date.” Castiel looked at Dean without a hint of understanding as to what Daniel’s true intentions were.

Dean narrowed his eyes at Daniel and his stupid perfect teeth and short red hair. He knew this game. Hell, he’d played this game, finding singles hovering near the Valentine’s aisle, unattached…attractive…singles. Suddenly, Dean’s grip on Castiel’s arm became more of an open handed, possessive grip than a way to get his attention. Who did this Daniel think he was, flirting with his…Cas…Oh shit. Dean realized he was being jealous when he had no claim or right to be. It wasn’t like he was attracted to…Oh Hell, who was he kidding other than himself? He loved Castiel. He just didn’t have the guts to find out how Cas felt, though he suspected at times....Daniel was staring at where Dean’s hand was still touching Castiel’s elbow. Yeah, asshole, read the signs. He’s mine…Dean thought to himself then he grimaced internally.

“I’m sure Daniel can manage just fine Cas. That’s what Yelp is for…Come on <i>sweetheart</i>, let’s go…” The sentiment had just come out. Dean told himself it was a means to get Daniel to back off…Yeah that was it, because the way he’d been gently holding his elbow hadn’t told Daniel enough. Shit. Castiel followed numbly along behind Dean as they once again made their way down the Valentine’s aisle. Dean pushed the cart with one hand and kept a grip on Cas’ elbow with the other, worried another Daniel might swoop in and try to steal his Angel away again. He only loosened his grip as they got off the aisle. Castiel’s forehead was scrunched up in thought. “Daniel was flirting with you. Couldn’t you tell? I…said that to make him leave you alone…Unless you wanted to…” Dean stuttered out, his face turning red from his nose to his ears.

“Why would I want to flirt with Daniel? I have no romantic attractions to him,” Castiel said as if it was an obvious fact.

“Right…Angels don’t date do they?” Dean murmured out as he gripped the cart with both hands and strode with purpose down the next aisle. Castiel actually had to speed walk to keep up with him.

“That’s…that’s not exactly true…Dean, would you slow down? I can easily keep up but you’re missing things we need,” Castiel said, annoyance now clouding his tone.

“What’s not exactly true? And what did I miss? Oh, coffee…right.” Dean darted down the aisle, grabbing several canisters of coffee and filters. He grabbed creamer and sugar for Cas, who seemed to like his coffee very sweet. As he tossed the items in the cart, Castiel stopped it from moving with his foot on the bottom rack of it. He locked eyes with Dean, his own tight.

“That Angels don’t date. They don’t…I would, but I’m not an Angel’s Angel, remember? Besides, it would have to be the right person…” Cas said neutrally, his eyes dark as he glanced nervously at Dean before he wandered down the aisle as well.

Dean was so confused. This was the last time he brought Castiel along with him when he shopped. Flirtatious men and weird conversations didn’t happen to him when he was alone. He pushed the cart along, looking for Cas. He found him finally, grabbing a pie at the deli and he grinned to himself as he pushed the cart up. “Thanks…” Dean said quietly behind him.

“You’re welcome. Anything else we need?” Cas said as he placed an apple pie in the cart.

“No, let’s check out. Come on.”

After all the bags had been loaded up into the backseat of the Impala, Dean hesitated, his hand on the doorknob of the driver’s side. He looked at Cas, who was contemplatively looking out his window. They were both getting older. Even Cas, who Dean thought would never age. He’d never asked him about that…Dean gripped the doorknob and swung the door open to stick his head in.

“I forgot something. I’ll be right back,” Dean said casually before closing the door and jogging back inside. Castiel nodded once then continued staring out into the night sky.

It was about ten minutes later that Dean returned with something wrapped in several plastic grocery sacks. He shoved the lumpy item in Castiel’s lap before buckling up and squealing out of the parking lot, his eyes only for the road. Castiel slowly ripped off each plastic bag, revealing a plush bee holding a heart that said “Bee Mine”. Cas tilted his head to the side before side eyeing Dean.

“Is this for…” Castel said hesitantly.

“For you….” Dean said quietly, chewing on his bottom lip as he refused to meet his eyes.

“Are you asking me to be your Valentine?” Castiel said, a hint of a smile ghosting across his lips.

“Don’t be stupid,” Dean barked out then frowned as he saw Cas almost pout. “I'm not asking.”

“You’re so rude, Dean…It’s a good thing I love you despite it,” Castiel said softly, his fingers making the bee’s antennae wobble.

“I thank Chuck every day for that, Sweetheart...Now, how do we break it to Sam we’re going out tomorrow without him?” Dean said with a grin forming on his lips.

@deancas-sweetheart

[donewithjeon]

Remnants

Characters: Hoseok x Reader

Word Count: 3,096

Genre: Angst

Warning: This was written at 3AM on a rainy night. That should say it all.

It was time.

Your hands fiddled with the video recorder as you proceeded to attach it to the tripod you had set up next to your seat. The lens was pointed towards the chair on the other side of the table, and the main focus shown on the LED display of the device was a man sitting comfortably upon it.

Once you were certain that the invaluable piece of equipment wasn’t going to topple over, you lined up the shot, making sure you were getting the angle of both the camera and the swivel screen just right.

It was a bit later in the morning than usual, but the atmosphere of the room was immaculate. The blinds were drawn open to let the dreamy sunlight into the area, bathing your surroundings in a soft, ethereal glow. The apartment was quiet, save for the fidgeting you had been doing while trying to prepare everything. Your hands were clammy from the nervousness building up within you, but you really had no reason as to why.

This was your best friend.

You talked to him all the time—he confided in you all the time. This was just like any other instance, except there was a camcorder beside you.

Giving the tripod one last look-over and deeming that it was indeed steady, you pushed the button located on the body of the camera and stepped away. Your feet felt heavy as you rounded the wooden chair before slowly sinking down onto the familiar frame.

You took a quick glance at the notepad laid open on the table before you. You probably weren’t going to need it, but the notes you jotted down were there, just in case.

Lifting your head up, you saw Hoseok sitting on the opposite side, a brilliant and kind smile gracing his lips that showed no sign of the apprehension you were feeling. He was always so sure of himself and everything he did—the complete opposite of you.

He uttered your name in that same confidence he exuded, and you heard the sweet voice fill the otherwise silent room; it was a pleasant sound you had come to adore, even through all the times he came off as unnecessarily loud or incoherently soft.

“So, how have you been lately?” you asked with a lighthearted smile.

You reached over for the cup sitting next to the already neglected notepad. The ceramic mug was still hot to the touch—it contained some herbal tea you had steeped only a few minutes ago—and you let your cold fingers enjoy the warmth it radiated.

“I know it hasn’t been too long since we last spoke,” Hoseok said earnestly. He was right—you two spoke almost each and every single day. Even if only lasted a couple of minutes, you cherished those moments.

His slender hand crept towards the cup on his side of the table, a much smaller one placed on top of a matching white saucer. It held his usual preference of coffee: no cream and definitely no sugar—dark and bitter like the world we lived in, as he would always joke. Others just liked to call it an Americano; in most cases it was served iced, but he always liked it hot.

“I thought about writing you a letter, too.” His eyes lowered to his own notebook in front of him, a simple one filled with scribbles of illegible handwriting that you were positive you would not be able to decipher. “But I felt like I should talk to you in person.”

“Well, I’m here now.” You perked up, letting your presence and open ears be known.

Hoseok looked back up from the table before picking his coffee up to take a careful sip. His brown eyes glistened with the reflection of the equally obscure liquid below, and the smile still lingered on his lips as he set the cup back down in place.

“I know you’ve heard a lot of this already, so I’ll save you the trouble and get straight to the point.”

“You finally decide to do that after talking my ear off for years?” You chuckled a bit, seeing the irony in the situation.

Hoseok always loved to talk, almost as much as you loved to listen. It seemed as though not a day went by without the same old topics being brought up in the discussions you two shared. Still, it was a routine you quite enjoyed, and you welcomed the sonorous reprise.

“I guess I’m tired of repeating myself, too. But this is the last time.” His tone was stern, but it held a certain poise that still felt soothing, not daunting.

“I’m always here to listen to anything you have to say, no matter what.”

Your smile grew a bit as you gave him a knowing nod, fitting your reply perfectly within the short silences that Hoseok left for you. While you loved to just sit down and listen to him speak, he never forgot to let you add in your two cents and disclose whatever was on your mind.

“Things are getting too difficult for me here.”

Listening intently to Hoseok’s words, you grabbed the mug in your hands and brought it up to your lips. You blew on the tea to cool it down, but it always felt like no matter how long you performed that gesture, the liquid still burned your tongue the moment it entered your mouth.

It was a cruel trick played by the universe, no doubt.

“Seoul never did treat you well,” you responded. Truthfully, the city hadn’t been too kind to you either, but you found comfort in the fact that you two had been braving it together.

“I’m just not made for this life,” Hoseok announced with a steadfast grin. “I didn’t want to show you everything, including my pain, but I failed on that part. It just feels like no matter how hard I try, it’s just never enough.”

“None of that is your fault, Hoseok.” You put the cup you had been holding in front of you back to its original position on the table. Perhaps you should have added some sugar into your drink, because now you sat there with a bitter taste in your mouth.

“I’ve been here for almost a quarter of a century, yet it doesn’t feel like home.” Hoseok leisurely scanned the side of the room as if searching for something, but you knew this place enough to know that nothing of interest was over there.

While he took in his surroundings, you took in his appearance. Your eyes drifted over the locks of black hair that fell above his forehead, some strands seemingly ignited by the bright rays that trickled in from another adjacent window. It was a modest window in this lonely apartment that Hoseok called his own, but it belonged to him as much as he felt that he belonged here.

“This place was never good enough for you, in my opinion,” you spoke frankly, your eyes following his coffee cup as he lifted it up to take another drink.

You lightly tapped your foot on the wooden floor and the sound echoed within the four walls—it was a habit that Hoseok always found annoying, but sometimes you didn’t even realize you were doing it. Your nerves had all but faded by now, and it felt as though the conversation was going considerably well, almost like it was rehearsed.

These early morning serious talks were a force of habit in and of itself. Although most of your exchanges ended as soon as the both of you were done with your respective drinks, that never stopped you or him from delaying the end, even as your beverages got cold.

“I know that the time I spent here doesn’t seem like much at first, but I want you to know that it’s enough for me.”

You knew exactly what he meant by those words, and they created a knot in your chest that only tightened when you fixed your gaze on him. Hoseok’s smile remained on his face, but you found it harder and harder to maintain yours. You wished that you could disagree with him, but he spoke with the most definitive tone you had ever heard him use. It wasn’t one of exhaustion or deflation that he always had in the months prior.

It was one of resolution.

“…What about me?” you whispered as you watched him put the cup back down with a clink.

“I’m sorry. I really am.”

Your jaw clenched at the apology, but you tried your best to keep your smile from turning into a grimace. You saw Hoseok’s hand glide over to the side of the table where a couple of miniature glass canisters were placed in an organized row. His fingers hovered over the jar that contained the granulated sugar before he went on to clasp the tiny bottle beside it. It held a clear and colorless liquid, much like the simple syrup everyone used to sweeten their beverages.

“The place you’re going to better be worth leaving me behind,” you tried to say while sounding the least disappointed you could possibly be. You kept your gaze on Hoseok’s tender expression as he watched himself pour the contents of the bottle into his coffee in one swift motion.

“I know this is selfish of me.”

He picked up the silver spoon that was lying next to his cup, a utensil much too small to even dream about transporting any type of food. Dipping it into his cup, he started stirring his coffee with a light touch, his eyes following the circular motions languidly.

“It is,” you started, listening to the gentle release of the metal on ceramic as he placed the spoon back down. “But I know I’m selfish with you, too.”

“I really didn’t want to have to leave you so suddenly.”

“Then don’t.”

The corner of Hoseok’s lip twitched up as he curled his index finger around the handle of his cup. Finally peeking up from his coffee once more, the wistful stare found its way straight to you without difficulty.

“I knew you would try to stop me.”

“Of course,” you stated curtly, as if trying to wring out your words. “Why wouldn’t I? You know how important you are to me.”

“Which is why I had to tell you this way,” he continued, cutting off the end of your sentence just a tad. You could only smile weakly, realizing that there was no use in getting worked up.

“It’s a dick move, if you ask me.” You attempted to berate him, if only just once in your life.

You always listened to Hoseok in more ways than one. On the days he had too much to say, you provided him with a friend to vent upon, and when he wanted absolutely nothing to do with anyone, even yourself, you also listened. During those delicate times he craved solitude, you left him alone.

You couldn’t help but think that maybe you shouldn’t have.

“I’ve already made my decision.”

“I know,” you sighed, slowly trying to release the pressure of the tangled mess of emotions inside of you. “I know I can’t stop you.”

Grasping for the mug of tea you had almost forgotten about, you took a long swig from it since it was now cool enough to do so, or at least it wasn’t scalding anymore. Hoseok brought his own cup to his lips in a fluid motion to follow your actions, but when you put the drink down to fold your hands in front of you, he kept his finger looped around his cup.

“I hope you can be happy, even without me,” he relayed with an ever caring smile that always made your universe seem that much more alive.

You wondered if this hurt him as much as it hurt you, or maybe the pain was less for him because he was ready. You wished you could have been ready as well, but no amount of time could have prepared you for this. You knew you had to accept it, because there was no way he was going to change his mind when it had already been so clearly made. Only when you truly engraved that into your heart would you stop withholding the undeniable hatred that you felt over the past few weeks—the hatred towards him, and the hatred towards yourself.

“I will try my best. I promise,” you declared, your breath hitching as he presented you with an endearing look before diverting his eyes onto his cup again to take another long sip.

You felt your hand shaking as you reached for your mug again, but instead of landing on the smooth, heated surface, you gripped the edge of the table in an effort to keep yourself grounded.

By the time Hoseok set his cup down, it was empty.

“I want you to know that I’m glad I met you, and nothing in this world changes the fact that I do love you.”

“I love you, too,” you said a little too eagerly, as if the words were hoping to get out in time. “I still love you, and you know that I’ll never stop.”

“You’ve been so good to me…You’re one of the best people I know—no, you are the best person I know.”

Hoseok’s smile widened the slightest as his eyes glazed over with what seemed to be nostalgia, the old memories of the years you had spent together, all flashing by as foggy fragments of the past.

“That’s because I’m your best friend,” you assured him to the best of your ability. “I will always be your best friend.”

His head tilted forward lethargically before he took in a deep breath and straightened up to face you again, his smile managing to stay on his face even until now.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

You knew he meant it with all his heart—you wanted to believe that—because with the way he strained to look at you through his hooded eyes, you knew it was true.

“And thank you for letting me be a part of your life,” you said in return, your smile fighting every instinct you had to stay on your face. “I only wish I could have done more.”

“Don’t blame yourself for any of this,” he mumbled hearteningly, almost as if he also knew exactly what was going through your mind. “I hope you can forgive me.” His voice faltered a bit as his head lulled to the side this time, but he quickly regained his composure to lock eyes with you again.

“I forgive you,” you proclaimed as strongly as you could, and it felt like the knot in your chest finally began to loosen. “There’s no need to apologize to me. As long as you’re not hurting anymore, I forgive you.” With the knot that unraveled like a sigh of relief, your tense grip on the table slackened as well.

“This is all that I can say.” Hoseok spoke softly, squeezing his eyes shut before opening them again with a brief shake of the head. He gazed in your direction one last time, overcome with fatigue that, in the end, managed to steal away his smile. Then, the dreaded words escaped like an exhale at last.

“I have to leave now.”

“I understand,” you muttered before your lips tightened into a line with the pressure lifting off of your heavy heart. Swallowing the lump in your throat that was threatening to suffocate you again, you continued on. “Everything is going to be alright with me—with all of us. Don’t worry anymore…just let go.”

You weren’t too sure if that last part was still directed towards Hoseok or if it was more for yourself. Either way, it was all that you could say as well.

Watching Hoseok’s expression, you could see his eyebrows creasing for a moment before his entire body relaxed. His head tilted backward, only there was no rebound this time. It fell back until he was facing the ceiling, his eyes fluttered closed like the way they would be whenever you saw him sleeping.

You let go of the table altogether, but you sensed everything else rising up within you. Your throat felt dry with the acknowledgement that there were no more words left to say. You could feel the tears that had started welling up a while back threaten to spill, but you calmed yourself down with a deep inhale. The scent of your tea that was still left unfinished entered your nose, because that was the only fragrance that was currently present in the room.

With the steady exhale of your breath and the blurry blink of an eye, you gazed in front of you to recognize that Hoseok was no longer there.

An empty chair sat across from you, one that had been left untouched for some time now, but in this very moment, the absence was bearable—almost peaceful. The light still shone from the windows to illuminate the apartment, and the familiarity of the warmth that cloaked you like Hoseok’s presence had was enough to make you feel like you weren’t alone.

You stood up from your seat with a light push off of your palms, and you circled around to make your way behind the video recorder. Looking down at the screen, you saw the figure of your friend sitting in the same chair with his eyes closed and his head tilted back over the top rail of the wooden frame, unmoving and unbreathing.

Your finger hit the button for the device to stop playing the previously-recorded footage, one that you knew would be frozen in the same scene for a while until his body was eventually found. Turning the camcorder completely off and snapping the extended display back in place with a click, you stared pensively at the half-vacant table once more.

Hoseok deserved the world—that much was true—but unfortunately, the world didn’t deserve him.

It took you much too long to realize that even you had no way of changing that, but now that you did, you felt you had the much needed closure. You were able to let go of the unspoken words that had haunted you since the day Hoseok had left you with this recording, and even if he would never hear them, you were finally at peace.

Just like him.

Note: Inspired by Nell - The Day Before.

[mousedetective]

Coffee And Other Loves (A “Uni Days” Story)

So here is another very late Christmas present to @mcbangle, one of @doctor-molly-hooper-holmes‘s picks for my Femslash February claims (D1) and a late Day 5 entry for Molly Hooper Appreciation Week Part Deux (Nothing Greater Than ___). ::takes breath:: A lot of stuff. But it’s some Hoopervan university AU cuteness, so please enjoy!

Coffee And Other Loves - When Molly runs out of coffee at 3 AM the day before she has an important paper due, she begins to panic, but Sally has a rather brilliant idea...one that gets an unexpected reaction from Molly.

Fandom: Sherlock (TV)

Relationship: Sally Donovan/Molly Hooper

Characters: Molly Hooper. Sally Donovan

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, College Student Molly, College Student Sally, Coffee, Coffee Shops, All-Nighter, Research Paper, Molly's Out Of Coffee, Sally Saves The Day, Awesome Sally Donovan, POV Molly Hooper, Poor Molly, Established Sally Donovan/Molly Hooper, Love Confessions, Awkward Molly, Awkward Confession, Fluff and Humor, Sally Donovan and Molly Hooper are Cute, Mentioned Greg Lestrade - Freeform

Read @ AO3 | Buy Me A Coffee? | Send Me A Prompt

She stared at the canister in horror. It was empty. She’d swear up, down, left right and any other which ways you could think of she’d just bought the damn thing a week ago. Surely she couldn’t have drunk that much coffee in a week? But then she looked in the rubbish bin she hadn’t emptied in she didn’t know how long and saw the sheer amount of white, coffee stained filters threatening to overflow out of it.

Oh. Apparently, she could drink that much coffee in a week.

She yawned and then her eyes widened. This was not a good sign. It was only three in the morning and she had a critical paper due for her anatomy class that she hadn’t even known about until a week ago because the professor had assumed he’d put it in the syllabus and then told them about it. When the class had said he hadn’t, he’d been a cold-hearted bastard and said it was still due in a week anyway, and she’d had to fight the other thirty-plus students in the class for research materials and books in the library.

She was a mess, she was, and if she blew this class she could kiss uni good-bye. And now she was out of God’s gift to pre-med students and she wanted to cry.

The knock at the door kept her from breaking down, and she walked over and opened it to see Sally there. The smile on her face turned to a frown almost instantly. “What’s wrong? Who died?”

Molly barked out a tiny laugh. “My academic hopes and dreams if I don’t get enough coffee to stay awake and write this bloody anatomy paper my godawful professor foisted on us a week ago.” She gave her girlfriend a hopeful coffee. “I don’t suppose I can run by your room and take all of your coffee off your hands, could I?”

Sally’s mouth did an O shape. “I didn’t realize you were one of the unlucky bastards to be in Campbell’s class.” Molly gave her a confused look. “At the coffee shop, I’ve been helping out a bit since Rosalee left to go backpacking across the continent with no notice. We’ve had a huge uptick in sales from people in his class cramming to try and get this paper done.”

“Ah,” Molly said, trying not to yawn again. “Why did you come by here?”

“To see if maybe you wanted to hit a late party some of the blokes who performed at the shop were going to throw at a house nearby campus,” she said. “But I think I have a better idea.” She reached over for Molly’s hand and pulled her towards the door and then stopped. “No, wait, grab the things for the paper, then let’s go. It’ll be better that way.”

“What will?” Molly asked, letting go of her girlfriend’s hand to go get the notes she needed.

“You’ll see.”

---

Sally unlocked the door to the coffee shop and then opened it, walking in, followed by a more cautious Molly. “Are you sure you won’t get in trouble?” Molly asked.

Sally nodded as she locked up behind them. “I’ve done this before during finals last semester. We have the owner’s blessing as long as we only use the staff lounge coffeemaker, we stay in the lounge and we only eat from the stuff he’s going to donate to the shelter in the morning. Besides, he’s fond of you. You’re a good tipper and you’re nice to everyone who works here.”

Molly nodded and followed Sally back to an area of the coffee shop she hadn’t been to before. Sally opened another door and turned on the light. She could see why he wouldn’t mind; this lounge was definitely set up for university students to catch naps if needed or stay up and cram for finals. The couches in the room looked comfortable, and there were pillows and throws piled up on one end of all of them, and she could see collapsible cots stacked up as well in the corner. The coffee machine was as big as the one used for customers with everything to make the same gourmet coffees, and even some of the syrups, too. “He really likes everyone here,” Molly said.

“He used to be homeless, actually, when he was a teen,” Sally said with a grin. “His mum booted him out and so he knew when he got up on his feet he’d set up a place for people to relax and be kind to people who might need a leg up. Every so often people crash here in the lounge for a while and work in the shop until they can get on their feet again. And he’s a big contributor to the shelter, too. They get the baked goods in the morning for breakfast and he always makes sure they have enough coffee for the evenings and mornings. And the good stuff, too. He thinks they deserve it.”

“Your boss sounds like a good man,” Molly said.

“Greg’s a very good guy,” she said with a smile. “He deserves all the best.” She went to the coffee machine and got it started. “Alright. You start on your paper and I will keep you supplied with coffee. I’m thinking maybe double shot mochas? With some hazelnut syrup and whipped cream?”

“I love you so much,” Molly said and then she froze. “I mean...I...”

“Well, it’s a good thing I love you too, brief as our relationship has been,” Sally said. “It’s not every woman I would put off sleep for to keep them caffeinated.”

Molly smiled widely and then went over and wrapped her arms around Sally’s waist, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I think I might love you more than coffee right now,” she said.

“I like hearing that,” Sally said with a chuckle. “And you can show me how much by letting me sleep I your bed while you’re in class. Your mattress has less lumps.”

“Deal,” Molly said, giving her another kiss before pulling away. She was going to get through the night, finish this paper and let Sally take her bed while she dealt with the Professor With No Heart, and then when it was all over she was going to join her girlfriend in blissful slumber and…

Well, who knew what might happen after that?

[assholemurphy]

Innocent Until : Chapter 2

Also on AO3

The 100

Murphamy

Explicit

Summary:

Sequel to Proven Guilty

Bellamy's a cop who got the love of his life falsely arrested, Murphy's a journalist who's just trying to piece his life back together after the aftermath of his ex-boyfriend turned serial killer's killing spree, that he'd ended up in jail for. His relationship with Bellamy died when he locked him away, or at least, he thought it had, but now, two years later, after a chance meeting in a coffee shop, they decide to give it another try. But Bellamy's got a big case that he has to go undercover for, just as his relationship starts going well. Will they last this time around? Will Bellamy survive this case? Will Mbege discreetly poison Bellamy? Maybe, but maybe not.

<- Previous Chapter

Murphy took a deep breath and opened the glass door to the station, nerves vibrating under his skin. He couldn’t believe he was back here, entering a station full of cops who had tried to lock him away. Of course, he knew there were some who had been on Bellamy’s side, there had to be, but he didn’t know how many or who they were, Bellamy hadn’t told him. They didn’t really talk about that, it opened too many wounds that weren’t quite old enough to be scars, but this, what Murphy was doing right now, it meant he was either going to reopen all of them or help him move past some of them, depending on what happened when he went in.

He hesitated but eventually pushed himself to walk through the doorway, knowing that if he didn’t do it now, he never would.

He looked around the hallway, posters hanging off from corkboards and people in suits disappearing through random doors that lead to places Murphy didn’t want to see. He hadn’t been inside this building in so long, even when he’d been dating Bellamy, he’d only been outside of it. He didn’t like this place. Too many times he’d been sitting inside the Cage, waiting for Arthur to bail him out. Mr. Mbege had never been upset by it, he’d only been gentle and comforting to both him and Mbege whenever it happened. But, still, this place didn’t hold the best of memories.

He should just go, return to his apartment search. He hadn’t even meant to end up here, but he’d been looking for apartments in the area and realized where he was and decided he wanted to see Bellamy. But maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea.

‘Stop being a little bitch and get over your shit,’ the voice in his head growled. ‘Do you want to see Bellamy or not? If not, go back to your bullshit search for apartments you can’t afford. Otherwise, grow the hell up and act like an adult. None of these people are going to hurt you. They can’t. You’ve done nothing wrong.’

No matter how logical the voice was, it didn’t make him trust these cops any more. He did want to see Bellamy, though. But he didn’t want to annoy him. He wasn’t sure what the rules were now, was he even allowed here? The last time he came anywhere near the station, it had lead to him being arrested. Maybe he was just tempting fate.

No.

No, Bellamy had given him permission to drop by. He wanted him to come by. Bellamy wanted to see him just as much as the reverse. He was allowed to be here.

Murphy nodded to himself and took a deep breath, walking into the lobby of the station. He looked at the woman behind the receptionist’s desk. She was on the phone with someone. He could wait… or he could just find Bellamy himself. That sounded better.

That’s right, John, just walk in and act like you own the place. They won’t even remember who you are.

That was probably true, seeing as how falsely arresting one person wasn’t going to destroy their live like being arrested had destroyed Murphy. No, he wasn’t bitter at all.

He looked over the sea of desks and detectives, surrounded by beat cops who looked so out of place in the professional environment, like if a fish tried to play at a dog park, trying to find Bellamy but he couldn’t see him. He must not be there right now. Maybe he was just away from his desk? Like, talking to someone or getting coffee?

Except the coffee maker was on a table by the wall next to a fish tank and Bellamy was nowhere near it.

Murphy sighed and made his way over to the tank, deciding that, since he’d already come inside, and if he left there was no guarantee that he’d be able to make himself come back in, he may as well stay and wait.

He watched the fish swimming in the water, three little yellow ones, four green ones, two blue, and a pink one. The pink one was Murphy’s favorite. It was smaller than the rest, but it kept up with them, except it kept getting distracted by the plants and leaving the group to investigate. It was cute.

“You need help?”

Murphy jumped at the voice, whirling around and nearly knocking into the fish tank in his panic. The man in front of him looked slightly familiar, but he couldn’t place him.

Miller held out a hand to steady him, “You okay, man? Please don’t murder my fish. We just got Marsha and Phillip finally got over his fear of the ship, and just don’t hurt them, please.”

Murphy raised an eyebrow at the man in front of him. He looked terrifying, like he could crush Murphy in a second, but the concern he showed for the fish made Murphy think he wasn’t as mean as he looked, “Marsha?”

“The little pink one,” Miller explained, pointing to the fish. “That’s Marsha. The green guys are Phillip, Georgie, Vin, and Lizzie. The blue are Max and Ripper, he thinks he’s a shark. And the yellow are Felisha, Ollie, and Fred. It’s kinda hard to tell them apart, at first, but they’ve got some differences. Like, Ripper is the one who attacks bubbles and Max likes to swim at the bottom to collect forgotten fish flakes. See?”

Murphy nodded hesitantly, watching the little blue fish swim around inspecting the rocks. He wasn’t sure who this guy was, but he kinda liked him. The softness in his voice as he talked about the fish made Murphy want to trust him. “They’re cute. I love fish.”

“Yeah. Not everyone appreciates them, but they brighten this place up a lot. No matter what I’ve seen or what just happened, I come back here, and I watch them for a while and it’s just calming. These fish don’t care about what you’ve done, they don’t try to hurt each other, they just want to swim and eat and fuck with the plants.” Miller smiled and grabbed for a yellow bottle on the table, holding it out to Murphy, “Wanna feed them?”

“Sure,” Murphy returned the smile and took the offered canister, opening it up and grabbing a pinch of fish food. He crushed the flakes up and began sprinkling them in the water, Miller doing the same. Murphy snorted softly as the fish swam to the top, biting at the food and swimming in happy little circles. “Cute.”

“Incredibly. Between these fish and the tech room, there’s no such thing as a bad day,” Miller admitted. “So, you need something, or?”

“I was actually just waiting here for Bellamy. Is he around?” Murphy asked, looking up at the man.

“Nah, he’s on a case with Monroe. They’ll be back later.”

“Oh,” Murphy nodded, a little awkward because he didn’t know what to do now.

“I could help you, instead, if you want?”

“I don't need help, I just wanted to see him.”

“You're the reason Bellamy's been smiling like an idiot all day, aren't you?”

“Maybe?” Was he?

“You must be Murphy, then,” Miller laughed.

“Yeah, that's me.”

Miller stuck out his hand, “We haven’t officially met yet, I’m Detective Miller.”

Murphy shook his hand, “Nice to meet you.”

“I’ve been waiting a while to meet you, actually. You caused quite a stir here a while back.”

Murphy frowned and fidgeted with the snap on his jacket sleeve, “Sorry?”

“It’s all good, man. I’m sorry about what happened to you, though. That must have been hard to go through. Bellamy, though, he never gave up. Kane even threatened his job and he just went behind his back cause he just knew you didn’t do it. I mean, we were all convinced, except him. Then he found a lead and dragged my ass into it, but it all worked out,” Miller shrugged. “You doing okay, now?”

“Yeah. Things are good,” Murphy nodded. He didn’t like this topic, but he supposed it was bound to be brought up eventually. “What do you mean, he dragged you into it?”

“Well, he was off the case, so Kane put me and Monroe on it. Actually, I was there when Kane, uh, you know-”

“Arrested me?” Murphy snorted. That explained why he recognized Miller.

“Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“You were just doing your job.”

“Yeah. Anyway, Bellamy needed someone who was on the case to get the warrant and go with him to check out the new suspect and that was me.”

“So, you helped clear my name?”

“Yeah, I guess, but don’t thank me for it. I just did it cause Bellamy’s my friend and I owed it to him.”

Murphy nodded. Well, at least not everyone in the department hated him. “Regardless of why you did it, thanks. It couldn’t have been an easy decision to put your career on the line.”

“No, but Bellamy’s rarely wrong. I mean on small things, sure, he’s usually wrong about first impressions, thinks everyone’s a suspect, you know?”

“Oh, I know,” Murphy laughed bitterly. He knew that all too well.

“But, once he gets to know someone, or gets a gut feeling, he’s rarely wrong. His closure rate is higher than anyone’s. He’s put away a lot of bad guys.”

“I believe it. He’s a smart guy.” And a bit of an ass, but otherwise, Murphy had no doubt he was a great cop.

“Here, let’s go to my desk, we can sit and talk while you wait for him to get back. Shouldn’t be too long now, they’re just chasing a lead. They’re actually close to solving this case,” Miller said, motioning for Murphy to follow him.

Murphy trailed behind him as Miller lead him to a desk that was covered in case files and unfinished paperwork, much like every other desk in the place. Miller groaned when he saw the stack and shook his head. “I’m so not doing all of this myself.”

He took half the stack and put it on the desk in front of his, causing a blonde woman to look up with a glare, “Don’t do it.”

“Just did it.”

“Take it back.”

“Nope.”

“Miller.”

“Harper.”

“Take your paperwork and do it yourself.”

“But there’s so much and you don’t have any!” Miller complained.

“That’s because I got it done while you were downstairs flirting with the tech guy.”

“I wasn’t flirting!”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

Miller just sighed and gave her a look that Murphy assumed was meant to convince her to help him. “Please?”

“No.”

“I’ll buy you lunch.”

Harper hesitated for a moment, “From where?”

“Your pick.”

“Garfield’s?”

“Lasagna?”

“I’m surprised they haven’t gotten in trouble for their name, or for their sign. Surely, there’s royalties to be paid somewhere,” Harper mused. “So, Garfield’s?”

“Sure,” Miller shrugged.

“Deal.” Harper took the stack of paperwork and put it on her desk. “Who’s this?”

“This is John Murphy.”

“Like John Murphy, John Murphy?”

“This has been confirmed,” Miller nodded. “Say ‘hi,’ Murphy.”

“Hi?” Murphy said, a little confused. “You people know me?”

“For several reasons,” Harper nodded. “Most famous is that you’re the guy that almost got Kane fired. He falsely arrested you and apparently he was a little extreme during the interview process and someone brought it up to the head of the department.”

“I didn’t-”

“Oh, no, we know who it was.”

Miller nodded, “He was downright terrifying, actually. I’ve never seen anybody that calm and angry at the same time.”

“Mbege?”

“No, his name was Jaha. Wells’ dad.”

Murphy was a little taken aback. He hadn’t thought Jaha would have cared enough, but he’d come by after Murphy got out and they’d talked about everything. He’d kept in contact while Murphy was in college and they still met up for lunch at least once a month, but he’d never told Murphy he’d gone after Kane’s job.

“First time Kane ever met him, he was trying to get him fired.”

“And now look where they are,” Harper laughed.

“Where are they?” Murphy asked, confused.

“They’ve been dating for the past year.”

“That’s who Jaha’s been dating?” Murphy blinked. “Are you serious?”

Jaha had mentioned a new boyfriend, but Murphy had never asked who it was. That was, that was amazing, actually.

“Yeah. It’s made Kane much calmer, actually. We all thought he was going to go after Abby or something, they’d been flirting for the past I don’t know how many years, but nah, he met Jaha and he asked him out as soon as he was done trying to get him fired. Jaha said no.”

“It took a whole year of various run ins, all orchestrated by Kane with the reluctant help of Wells, to get him to say yes. I’m pretty sure he even sent flowers to his work, once.”

Murphy snorted and shook his head. “Well, from what I’ve seen, he makes Jaha happy, so I guess he can’t be too bad.”

“Oh, he can be. Trust me,” Miller said with a shudder. “That man would turn you into a floor lamp if you crossed him on the wrong day.”

“Sounds like a fun guy,” Murphy laughed, leaning back in his chair. He was slowly relaxing around these two. They made him feel welcome here. “So, what are the other reasons?”

“The oldest reason is that you literally hold the record for most arrests before the age of eighteen. I think it’s like two hundred and something? You’re famous here. You’re the guy every juvenile delinquent aspires to be,” Harper told him.

Murphy felt a surge of pride. He didn’t know he held the record. That was impressive. “Well, I don’t generally do that sort of thing anymore.”

“Good. Otherwise you might break another record and then the department would be obligated to buy you a plaque,” Harper giggled.

“I mean, they kind of owe him one already for the third reason. Something like, ‘this award is presented to John Murphy, for pulling the ten-foot pole from the ass of Bellamy Blake,’ Miller laughed. “That’s why most people know who you are. Bellamy never shuts up about you. There was a whole two years where all he did was mope around but then like magic, a week ago, he just switched gears and hasn’t stopped smiling. Won’t shut up about you, either. Ask him how his day’s going, and he’ll find a reason to give you a ten-page poem he wrote about you.”

Murphy laughed so hard his stomach hurt. Yeah, he liked this place a lot. “So, he did have a stick up his ass. Here I just thought I was getting special treatment.”

“Nah, he’s a dick to everybody until he decides he likes them. Then he turns into like some kind of badly trained puppy or something. Like, he might let you pet him, but he might also shit in your living room, it’s a toss-up,” Miller said. “But he’s a damn good cop, and a loyal friend, so it’s worth the risk.”

“So, he’s been here for how long?” Murphy asked.

“Since he was eighteen. He’s thirty now, so, about twelve years, give or take.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah. He’s got some great stories, too. Like, this case he was on, about a gang of criminals robbing convenience stores, right?” Miller started.

“Oh, god, I remember this one,” Harper smiled. “So, he decides to go undercover at one of the stores they might hit. It was the next one in their path, so he sets up shop. However, he got bored halfway through the night, because waiting is boring as hell, you know?”

“So, instead of reading a book or playing on his phone, he decides to go all Home Alone on this place. I’m talking trip wires that knocked over entire aisles, an exploding microwave triggered by yet another trip wire, and a decoy cop made out of bags of chips with a squirt gun painted black. It was beautiful, absolutely insane.”

“And it’s all caught on surveillance tape, too, so if you ever want to see it, just ask Monty. I highly suggest you watch it sometime, it’s hilarious,” Miller advised.

Murphy just shook his head, “I’ll have to do that one day.”

Miller calmed himself down and sighed, “Yeah. He's a good guy. He's a good cop and one of my best friends.”

“Am I going to get a best friend speech?” Murphy asked, a little worried.

“Nah, I mean, you already know it, and you’ve seen my gun, do I really need to give it to you?” Miller asked with a grin.

Murphy shook his head, “I get the idea.”

“Good. Good,” Miller smiled. “So, anyway-”

“Murphy!”

Murphy looked up at the sound of Bellamy’s voice. “Bell?”

“Hey, babe,” Bellamy smiled as he got close to where Murphy was sitting. He leaned down and gave him a quick kiss before asking, “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you,” Murphy explained. Then, getting a little anxious, “That’s alright, right?”

“Of course, it is. You’re always welcome here. Right, Miller?”

“I still think we should throw him a party for removing the stick from your ass, but that’s just my opinion,” Miller shrugged, winking at Murphy.

“See? Welcome,” Bellamy said. “You wanna meet my new partner?”

“Sure,” Murphy smiled, standing up. “Where is she?”

“Over here, at our desks,” Bellamy motioned for Murphy to follow and he did, right at Bellamy’s heels. “Monroe!”

“Blake!” She snapped back, dropping down into her chair and glaring at the files on her desk. “One case cannot produce this much paperwork.”

“And yet, somehow, it does,” Bellamy sighed, looking at his own matching pile. “But, some of it’s from our last case, final reports and all that. Should probably do those first.”

“I don’t want to do any of them, though,” she huffed, pulling out a pen. “Who’s this? New lead?”

“Boyfriend.”

“The infamous John Murphy, then,” she said, smiling at him. “So, tell me, Murphy, does the sun really shine out of your ass?”

“Um, no?” Murphy furrowed his brow, confused by what she meant.

“And yet, the way Blake here tells it, it does.”

“Oh,” Murphy nodded. “He can be a bit deluded at times. Probably best just to pat him on the head and tell him you believe him. Kinda like when a four-year-old says he’s Batman.”

“If a four-year-old says he’s Batman, you immediately begin an investigation into him to see if he’s plotting to murder his parents. Only orphans can believably be Batman.”

“Well, that adds to my credibility, then,” Murphy laughed.

Monroe snorted and covered her mouth, Bellamy watching the two of them with wide eyes. “You two okay?”

“I’m afraid we have to arrest this man, Blake.”

“What the fuck did I not do this time?” Murphy asked with a grin.

“Vigilante justice is against the law.”

“But, I’m Batman, I’m above the law and I’ve got the money to prove it.”

“Fucking-” Monroe laughed. “I’m afraid that only works in Gotham, here in reality, we don’t accept money as an excuse to break the law.”

“Tell that to the mayor,” Murphy snarked.

“Wish I could,” Monroe sighed.

Bellamy watched the exchange curiously. Unsure how to proceed. They seemed to like each other.

“So, how the hell do you put up with my boyfriend?”

“I don’t. Trust me, I’ve shot at him at least twice today,” Monroe told him. “He’s just really good at ducking behind things.”

Murphy snorted and shook his head. He’d been really curious to see who could actually put up with Bellamy, and how they managed it, but now he understood.

She was just as bad as he was, and yet also somehow worse and he was completely in love with her.

“You want coffee?” Monroe asked, pointing to the machine.

“Sure,” Murphy agreed, following her over to the machine.

“Fine, just steal my fucking boyfriend, why don’t you, it’s not like I saw him first or anything,” Bellamy called. Monroe just smirked at him and began pouring the coffee.

Bellamy just sat down and began to do his paperwork while the two talked. He figured this would happen. She and Murphy were a lot alike, it was one of the main reasons he’d agreed to take her on as a partner.

She was snarky and rude, and Bellamy loved her to bits. She was Murphy’s age, but she acted like she was older, just like Murphy did. They were both complete jerks to him and they both snapped at authority figures constantly, and they both had tempers that could go off at any second. They were two of a kind.

Bellamy watched them make their coffee, grinning. Something he hadn’t noticed that made them all the more similar was that they both drank the same syrupy coffee. He groaned and shook his head. How the hell had he missed that?

._-*-_.

“Finally,” Bellamy sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Done.”

“Yeah?” Monroe asked, launching another ball of paper at Murphy with the slingshot they’d built out of pens and rubber bands.

“Yeah,” he smiled. She hadn’t even started, she’d been busy fooling around with Murphy, but he wasn’t going to make fun of her for it. He was glad they got along. “Hey, Murphy!”

Murphy looked up from across the room where he was ducking from the paper balls being launched at him. The second he looked up, one hit him square in the face, which made both him and Monroe double over in laughter. “Y-yeah?”

“Wanna get lunch?”

“Sure,” Murphy nodded, gathering up the balls of paper and dumping them in the nearest trashcan. He walked back over just as Bellamy was grabbing his jacket. “Where?”

“You pick.”

“I can take you to Sienna’s place.”

Bellamy smiled, “Sounds good.”

They walked outside, hand in hand. Bellamy pulled Murphy to his car and was surprised when, as soon as they were out of sight from the general public, Murphy had him pinned against it.

He kissed him, bruising hard and passionate and Bellamy gave back as good as he got, biting at Murphy’s bottom lip and shoving his tongue past his lips, his hands gripping Murphy’s hips and pulling him against him. Murphy’s hands were tangling in his curls and Bellamy moaned when Murphy ground against him. He pulled back, “I thought- Fuck, I thought we were taking this slow.”

“If you want to, I guess, but I just wanted to kiss you,” Murphy shrugged, pressing kisses down the side of Bellamy’s neck. “I’ll stop if you want me to.”

“I thought we were getting lunch?”

“I mean, we could just order pizza and get it delivered to your place?” Murphy suggested, trailing a hand down Bellamy’s chest, popping buttons as he went.

Bellamy wanted nothing more than to give in. Murphy was ready, he was ready, it wasn’t like they were really rushing things, and dammit, “If you don’t stop trying to take my clothes off in public, I’m going to cuff you.”

“Do it, detective,” Murphy purred, reaching the bottom of Bellamy’s shirt. “Let’s go back to your place.”

Bellamy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was going to wait, take this slow, but fuck it, he didn’t want to. He wanted Murphy and he wanted him now. “I don’t have a very long lunch break.”

“Then we’ll be quick.”

Bellamy nodded, “Get in the car, then.”

Murphy smirked and did as he was told, Bellamy sliding in just as quickly.

“So, pizza?”

“We’d have to stop to eat. If there’s time after, we’ll order some, but honestly, I just want you,” Murphy said, putting a hand on Bellamy’s thigh.

“Murphy,” Bellamy warned.

“I’m not going to do anything while you’re driving. I like living, for the most part,” Murphy assured him.

It took five minutes to get to Bellamy’s house, but it felt like forever with Murphy’s hand on his thigh. All he wanted was to pull over and take Murphy in the backseat. Fuck, he should have just done that in the first place, but then they ran the risk of getting caught, especially at the station and Bellamy wasn’t willing to take that chance.

“Hurry up,” Murphy whined as Bellamy turned the key in the lock.

“It’s open, okay? Now get your ass inside,” Bellamy ordered.

Murphy shoved Bellamy towards the couch the second they were inside. They didn’t have long enough for Bellamy to fuck him, but that was okay, they could still get off. He just wanted Bellamy, as much as he could have of him, as soon as he could have him.

As soon as Bellamy was seated on the couch, Murphy dropped to his knees, making Bellamy moan. He smirked at him and undid his belt and pants, pulling him out and stroking him until he was hard. Everything was rushed and fast and Bellamy’s head was spinning. Slow was the complete opposite of how this was going, but he didn’t really care.

“Fuck, Murphy,” Bellamy moaned as Murphy licked at the head of his cock, looking up at Bellamy for a second before taking him into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the head, Bellamy bucking up into his mouth and bobbed his head a few times, getting adjusted to the feeling before taking him down as far as he could, Bellamy’s cock brushing the back of his throat and making him want to gag, he hummed around him and looked up at Bellamy through his lashes.

Bellamy was watching him intently, lust clouding his gaze. All he wanted was to buck his hips up into the wet heat of Murphy’s mouth, but he didn’t want to hurt him. But, fuck, Murphy’s mouth felt so good. He couldn’t hold back a moan as Murphy began to bob his head again, taking him all the way down and swallowing around him. “Murphy, I’m not gonna- Fuck, baby, you look so pretty like that. You know that?”

Murphy hummed in response as Bellamy tangled his fingers in Murphy’s hair. Murphy pulled off, swirling his tongue around the head taking him back down, not giving Bellamy a chance to catch his breath. Bellamy tugged on his hair and Murphy moaned, causing Bellamy to smirk, “You like that, baby?”

Murphy nodded as best he could and Bellamy tightened his grip, Murphy feeling his cock twitch in his pants. He used his free hand to rub at it, trying to get some relief.

“Murphy, I’m gonna, oh, fuck, baby, I’m gonna come,” Bellamy groaned. It had been too long and with the sight Murphy made, his lips around his cock and his hair in his face as he looked up at him, there was no way he was ever going to last very long, anyway.

Murphy took him down as far as he could and hummed around him, the vibrations tipping Bellamy over the edge. Murphy pulled off, swallowing down as much as he could and smirking up at Bellamy, “Good?”

“Amazing, baby,” Bellamy told him. “Now take your pants off and come here, I wanna get you off.”

Murphy moaned and tucked Bellamy away before ridding himself of his pants and shoes and climbing up into Bellamy’s lap, his erection straining against his stomach.

Bellamy wasted no time in taking him into his hand and stroking him slowly, making the boy whine. Murphy kissed Bellamy for a second, letting the other man taste himself on his tongue and reveling in the moan he got out of him before pulling away and asking, “Did you bring you cuffs?”

“You sure?” Bellamy asked, not wanting to bring up any bad memories for Murphy.

“Very,” Murphy breathed out, pupils blown and lips red. He looked like the definition of turned on and Bellamy wasn’t going to deny him anything.

Bellamy pulled the cuffs from his belt and put it on one of Murphy’s wrists, checking to make sure it wasn’t too tight. “Behind or in front?”

“Behind,” Murphy decided, putting his wrists behind him so Bellamy could cuff him easier. “Wanna read me my rights?”

“You’ve got the right to shut the fuck up and do exactly what I say,” Bellamy told him, letting his hand wander to Murphy’s ass.

Murphy moaned loudly at his words and leaned down to capture Bellamy in a kiss.

Bellamy kissed back, nipping at his lips and soothing the bite with his tongue as he used his free hand to dig in the drawer of the table beside the couch, trying to find the bottle he knew was stashed there. Finally finding it, he broke the kiss and began trailing them down Murphy’s neck, leaving bite marks and bruises behind as the boy squirmed on his lap.

He brought the lube up behind him and poured some on his fingers before spreading Murphy’s cheeks and pressing a finger against his hole, Murphy pushing against it and whimpering, “Please.”

Bellamy just smirked and pushed in, Murphy whimpering and moaning at the feeling, begging, “More.”

“In time, baby, gotta let you adjust, don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I like it, though,” Murphy breathed out, thrusting down onto Bellamy’s hand.

“Like what, baby?” Bellamy asked, figuring he knew the answer but he wanted to hear it, anyway, just so it was clear.

Murphy blushed and looked down, “Pain.”

Bellamy grinned and used his free hand to tilt Murphy’s face up to look at him, “Look at me, Murphy. It’s okay, you don’t have to be embarrassed. I’ll give you whatever you want, okay?”

“Want more, please,” Murphy begged.

“Alright,” Bellamy agreed, shoving another finger inside of Murphy, stretching the boy and making him wince and moan.

“More,” he breathed out.

“That’s gonna-”

“Please,” he whined, bucking his hips down and catching Bellamy in another kiss. Bellamy complied, shoving in a third finger, Murphy tensing up beneath him and for a second, Bellamy thought he’d done something wrong until Murphy groaned and canted his hips down, breaking the kiss to tell him, “Move.”

Bellamy did as he was told, thrusting his fingers in and out of Murphy, who whimpered in pleasure and dropped his head to Bellamy’s shoulder, leaning against his chest. He matched Bellamy’s pace until he couldn’t take it anymore and demanded, “Touch me.”

“I don’t take orders from you, Murphy. I’m in charge, remember?”

“Fuck, please,” Murphy begged, thrusting his hips down and burying his face in Bellamy’s neck. “Please, detective, please touch me.”

“Okay, baby,” Bellamy said, taking Murphy into his hand and stroking lightly.

Murphy groaned and let out a sob, “Please, Bell, don’t tease me. Please let me come.”

“Well, since you said ‘please,’” Bellamy chuckled, tightening his grip and stroking Murphy off hard and fast, making him moan and arch his back. “Bell, I’m gonna-!”

“Then come for me, baby,” Bellamy purred, pressing kisses to Murphy’s shoulder as he stroked him off.

Murphy cried out as he came, “Bell!”

Bellamy didn’t stop stroking him off until he begged him to, the overstimulation becoming too much for him. He pulled his fingers out and grabbed for tissues from the box on the table and cleaned the lube from his hand so that he could unlock the handcuffs.

Once they were off, he laid them to the side and began rubbing Murphy’s wrists while he came down from his high. “You good, baby?”

“Mhm,” Murphy nodded, raising up. “I got your shirt dirty.”

“I’ll change, it’s fine,” Bellamy shrugged.

“I’m sorry,” Murphy mumbled.

“I can change, really, it’s fine.”

“No. You said you wanted to go slow,” Murphy mumbled, playing with the top button of Bellamy’s shirt.

Bellamy laughed and shook his head, “It’s alright, baby. We aren’t really the ‘slow’ type, are we?”

Murphy shook his head and pressed a kiss to the corner of Bellamy’s mouth. “Thank you.”

“Anything you want, Murphy. I’ll give it to you,” Bellamy promised.

“Is your lunch break over?”

“Almost,” Bellamy said after checking his watch. “Why?”

“I’ll take you to Sienna’s some other time. Or we can order it some night.”

“Okay, babe,” Bellamy agreed. “Now, I’ve got to change and as much as I love you being in my lap, I can’t change with you on me.”

Murphy sighed and reluctantly got off of Bellamy’s lap. He stretched and began to put his pants back on as Bellamy started towards his bedroom.

“Want to come with me?”

Murphy chuckled, “If I go to your bedroom right now, there’s no way in hell you’re making it back to work today.”

“Fair point,” Bellamy conceded and left to change.

Fifteen minutes later they were back at the station, Murphy’s arms wrapped around Bellamy as they stood by his car. “I don’t want to leave.”

“Then stay.”

“But you won’t get your work done.”

“That’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make,” Bellamy grinned.

“I can’t. I’ve got to get back to Mbege’s, anyway. We’re supposed to be deciding on party favors this evening and I said I’d be back by three.”

“Then you gotta go, but I’ll text you later, okay?” Bellamy promised.

“Okay,” Murphy sighed as he let go of Bellamy. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, baby,” Bellamy said, kissing Murphy’s forehead, wanting nothing more than to tell him that they were both going to blow everything else off and go watch movies or take a nap or do literally anything, as long as they were together. He didn’t want to let Murphy out of his sight, honestly, because he was scared that if he did, he’d wake up and it will have all been a dream. But then Murphy kissed him again and he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that it was real. He’d never had a dream this good.

 Next Chapter ->