#let’s leave these spaces for everyone to breath and take a brake yeah?

[askchilchuck]

Do you support Kamala?

No idea who that is.

[ghostsofoldlyrics]

"The Bolter" by Taylor Swift Is for Every Girl Who’s Ever Left Before She Got Left

This song is survival. This song is oxygen. This song is me.

Let me tell you, the first time I heard The Bolter, I just sat there. Totally still. Not crying, not smiling, not doing anything except staring into space like something had just punched me in the chest in the gentlest way possible. I didn’t know what to do except hit play again. And then I played it again. And again.

Now that I’ve heard it more times than I can count, I can say without hesitation this might be one of Taylor Swift’s most powerful songs. It’s raw. It’s clever. It’s emotionally honest in that way where it doesn’t scream about feelings, it just shows you a story and lets you feel your way through it.

And wow, what a story it is.

So who is The Bolter?

She’s the girl who always leaves. She’s fun and exciting and probably looks perfect in every blurry photo someone snaps of her laughing. She’s magnetic. But she never stays. And not because she doesn’t care.

The song starts with this moment from her childhood.

"By all accounts, she almost drowned when she was six in frigid water…"

That line is where everything begins. Literally and symbolically. She nearly drowned, and it stuck with her. That feeling of going under, of being out of control, cold and scared, it shaped her whole life. Now whenever things start to feel like that again, she runs. Because she knows what it’s like to go under and she refuses to let that happen twice.

It’s not just about romantic relationships either. It’s about life. About how some people, especially women, especially women who feel things deeply, learn early that the world doesn’t always catch you. So they teach themselves to land on their own. Even if it means jumping at the "wrong time" according to other people.

She’s not afraid of love or taking risks. She’s afraid of what happens after.

The relationships in this song are intense. We’re talking whirlwind starts, all-consuming emotion, kissing like it’s a secret, weekend rowboats in Central Park kind of thing.

And then it shifts.

She notices something small, a little crack in the floorboards of the boat. Maybe he gets short with the waiter. Maybe he tells a story that rewrites the truth. Maybe she sees something in his eyes that feels too familiar. And just like that, she knows she has to go.

"Ended with the slam of a door. Then he’ll call her a whore."

This part hits like whiplash. Because she’s not the one who gets to walk away with grace. She’s the one who gets blamed. Again. And again. Like she could brake something that was already rotting from the inside.

But she keeps leaving anyway. Because staying is worse. Staying feels like drowning again.

"But as she was leaving, it felt like breathing."

That line. That one line sums it all up. That’s what makes this song feel so alive. It’s not about heartbreak. It’s about self-preservation.

So where does Taylor Swift fit into all this?

If you’ve been following her music for a while, you know she’s been cast in just about every role imaginable by the media. The sweet girl. The crazy ex. The genius. The manipulator. The perfect girlfriend. The one who dates too many people. The one who writes too many songs about it.

The Bolter is Taylor flipping all of that on its head. She’s not denying the narrative. She’s reclaiming it. She’s not apologizing for leaving or feeling too much or wanting more. She’s saying yeah, maybe I did all those things. And maybe I had my reasons.

It’s not angry. It’s not defensive. It just is.

Let’s talk about the identity within the song, because The Bolter plays with it in a way that’s kind of genius.

This song isn’t just about a woman who leaves. It’s about what happens when everyone around her thinks they know exactly who she is, and she’s the only one who actually understands why she does what she does.

There’s this moment in the song:

"Behind her back, her best mates laughed, and they nicknamed her The Bolter"

That line says everything. Her friends turn her into a punchline. Her partners turn her into the villain. The world builds this little story about her that’s simple and easy to understand. She’s the girl who can’t commit. The girl who always runs. The girl who breaks hearts and never looks back.

But what the song shows us is the version of her no one sees. The one who almost drowned when she was six and never forgot how that felt. The one who notices the smallest cracks in a relationship and takes them seriously because she knows what it feels like when something collapses under you.

The world calls her a bolter. But she knows she’s a survivor.

There’s a reason it’s called The Bolter. That word has history. There was a woman named Idina Sackville in the early 1900s who was famous for leaving husbands and choosing her own path. They called her the Bolter like it was an insult, but she lived life on her terms. Taylor knows what she’s doing with a title like that. She’s placing her character, and maybe herself, in that same legacy of women who refuse to stay where they’re expected to.

"All her fuckin lives flashed before her eyes"

This line feels like a joke and a confession at the same time. And that’s what makes it perfect. It hits in that weirdly perfect space between funny and devastating. On the surface, it sounds casual, like something you’d say mid-story while waving your hands around, trying to explain why you left someone without sounding dramatic. The use of “fuckin” makes it sound flippant, almost like she’s joking about her own chaos. It’s self-aware, kind of unhinged in a charming way, and honestly, relatable if you’ve ever felt like you’ve lived six different emotional lifetimes in one relationship.

But underneath the joke, there’s this really raw truth. It’s not just about looking back on a single moment. It’s about remembering every version of yourself you’ve been. Every time she leaves, she’s walking away from a different self, not just a different man. It’s a quiet way of saying, I’ve been through more than anyone knows, and each time I save myself, I lose a little piece of who I used to be. That’s heavy, but she says it like a throwaway line because sometimes that’s the only way to deal with something that real.

It’s a laugh and a gut punch. You hear it and maybe you smile at first, but then it sinks in. It’s the kind of line that makes you pause because it’s not just clever, but it’s also honest in a way that only really hits if you’ve ever had to make hard choices just to keep breathing.

When you’ve been through a lot, when you’ve had a few big chapters in your life, it really does feel like multiple lives. Like every version of you you’ve ever been is riding in the passenger seat while you pull away from yet another situation that didn’t feel right.

And maybe that’s the most relatable part of all.

She’s not a villain. She’s not a hero. She’s just a woman who knows how to read the signs.

I see myself in this song. And I think a lot of other women can, as well.

Not in the glamorous parts, or the stormy breakups, or the fancy Town Cars, or the portrait poses. But in the way she knows the ending before it happens. In the way she doesn’t wait around to be hurt. In the way she feels like breathing again the second she makes that hard decision and walks out the door.

I love this song because it doesn’t ask for sympathy. It just tells the truth.

And sometimes, hearing someone else tell that truth makes you feel like maybe you’re not as complicated or broken or confusing as you thought you were. Maybe you’re just a bolter too. Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.

So yeah, The Bolter is one of my favorite Taylor Swift songs. And not because it’s catchy or clever, even though it’s both. I love it because it feels like something I didn’t know I needed to hear until she said it.

If you’ve heard it, tell me what line stayed with you. If you haven’t really listened, go put on your headphones and let it find you. Then come back and let’s talk.

[shemarmooresfedora]

Collision Course

Summary: You and Spencer were just bound to collide. Only fate could plan a first meeting that unique.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: fluff, minor car crash (no serious injuries), swearing, sexual harassment (specifically cat-calling from a stranger), mentions of eating a lot of food, implied allusion to sex (not specifically stated)

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: this is my one-shot entry for @ellesgreenaway ‘s 1k follower celebration! congratulations! <3 i’ve had this fic in my drive for a while but i never got around to finishing it until now

Masterlist

The metro was down for scheduled repairs today. JJ offered to bring Spencer in but he politely declined. He figured he should drive his car at least every once and a while so it doesn’t just collect rust in his parking spot.

Leaving his apartment 15 minutes earlier than he normally would to account for his rather slow driving, Spencer cautiously reversed out of his space.

He sighed in relief that he had not hit the neighboring cars. Spencer began to pull out of the parking garage. Unfortunately, he was so relieved from his little victory that he forgot to check both ways when he drove out of the parking garage.

Spencer slammed on the brakes but it was too late. He hit a young woman jogging and knocked her to the ground. Luckily, his average speed was that of a snail so he hoped her injuries were not too bad.

Spencer put the car in park and got out, “Oh god, oh god, oh god. Are you okay, miss?”

“I think so,” you were on the ground, assessing your body for any damage.

“Can you stand?” Spencer extended his hand to help you up.

You carefully stood, wincing a little when you put pressure on your left ankle.

“Is there anyone I can call? Do you want me to drive you to the ER?” Spencer frantically asked.

Your eyes widened, “No!” you stated a little too loudly, “Um I mean no thank you. I should finish my run anyways. I have a 5k for Alzheimer’s research coming up and I need to run or else I don’t raise any money,” you politely waved and took off again, much slower this time.

Spencer cringed as he watched you limp slightly every time you stepped on your left ankle, knowing it was his fault you were in pain. He sighed and pulled out his phone.

“Hey JJ, have you left yet? I need a ride, I’ll explain in the car.”

-

“Pretty Boy, how was your drive in?” Derek asked as soon as Spencer stepped off the elevator with JJ.

“I got about 20 feet and then hit someone with my car and had to call JJ so not great,” he admitted.

“Boy Wonder, you did WHAT? Are they okay?” Penelope gasped.

“She insisted she was fine but then she was limping away. I offered her a ride but she didn’t seem too keen on getting in a car with me,” Spencer explained.

“I wonder why,” Emily chuckled.

-

So there Spencer was. In the park in his only pair of short athletic shorts and a hoodie.

He had asked Penelope to sign him up for the 5k as a way to sort of make it up to the woman he hit. Plus, obviously it was for a good cause that was near and dear to his heart because of his mother.

Spencer had to take a lot of water breaks, periodically stopping to walk for a bit.

In the distance, he saw you on a bench and he suddenly felt the energy again to continue running to you. As he approached, he saw you tightening an ankle brace around your left foot and to make matters worse, you had a wrist brace as well.

Spencer considered just leaving you alone but he felt the need to apologize.

“H-Hello,” he awkwardly sputtered.

“Oh, hi,” you replied.

“I am so so sorry. Please let me pay your medical bills and any other expenses that I caused,” Spencer apologized.

“Unless you meant to hit me then it’s fine,” you stood from the bench.

“I definitely didn’t and I wasn’t on my phone or anything like that. I just barely ever drive but the metro was down today,” Spencer explained.

“You don’t have to pay my medical bills. I’m friends with a nurse so she did this for free. However, I would allow you to sponsor me for the 5k,” you answered.

“Absolutely,” Spencer nodded, “And funny story, you inspired me to register as well. I got everyone in my office to sponsor me.”

“That’s so great! The money is certainly going to a good cause.”

Spencer saw you smile for the first time since he met you.

“I’ve never been much of an athlete though. I barely passed my fitness test for work,” Spencer admitted.

“What kind of job has a fitness test?” you asked.

“I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI,” Spencer stated.

“Oh shit, you’re a federal agent? Maybe I will sue you and make bank,” you grinned.

Spencer’s face reddened.

“It was just a joke. You can laugh, then that means the incident is in the past and no hard feelings,” you smiled, “I’m Y/N.”

“Spencer.”

“Well, Spencer, if you ever need a running buddy, I’m more than happy to come along seeing as we both are training for the same thing. But I do have to warn you, this brace is kind of a bitch so I’m a little slower than normal.”

“I can assure you that you will probably still be faster than me with the brace on so maybe it was a good thing for me that I hit you with my car so you won’t be miles ahead,” Spencer grinned.

You laughed wholeheartedly, “See, Spencer! I’m laughing about it so no hard feelings, all is forgiven.”

“I’m just finishing up for the day but I was planning on being here again on Wednesday at the same time if you want to meet at this bench,” you offered.

“Yeah, I can do that,” Spencer nodded.

“See you around, Spencer. Hopefully not in your car though,” you winked and waved.

-

“Oh god, you’ve fallen in love with the chick you almost killed,” Derek groaned.

“Not love...well, yet anyways. She’s so pretty and easy to talk to and isn’t mean to me after everything that has happened and her laugh is like honey,” Spencer smiled softly, recalling the sound in his mind.

“Okay, lover boy,” Penelope giggled, “Did you get her number?”

“No but we’re meeting for a run tomorrow. We actually met at the park when I was training,” Spencer said.

“So she’s seen you in those short shorts and agreed to another meeting? Maybe you do have a chance, kid, cause you really put it all out there,” Derek smirked.

“Speaking of, I actually need to get more of them,” Spencer sipped his coffee.

“Just go all the way and get spandex. Leave nothing to the imagination,” Derek chuckled as Spencer rolled his eyes.

-

“Jesus, I’m going to have to hit your right leg this time if I’m going to have any chance of keeping up with you,” Spencer huffed as he bent over his knees to catch his breath.

“Well good news is that was four miles so you definitely will be able to run a 5k because it’s only 3.1 miles,” you encouraged him.

“Technically, it’s 3.10686 miles but I see your point,” Spencer heaved.

“I know a really good smoothie place nearby. Come on, it’s on me,” you grabbed his hand.

Luckily, Spencer’s face was already red from exercising so you weren’t able to see the blush that formed on his cheeks.

“No, it’s definitely on me. I know you said we’re fine but I am forever going to be indebted to you because of the incident.”

“Spencer, really just forget about it,” you assured him.

“I can’t, I have an eidetic memory,” he grinned.

“Ah, I see. Fine, you buy me one smoothie but then we’re even,” you conceded.

You were walking down the street to the cafe when you heard a whistle come from one of the cars driving by.

“Damn, your ass is looking sexy in those leggings,” a man hollered from his passing truck.

You flipped him off and tried to pull your shirt down as much as possible, crossing your arms tightly around your front.

Spencer unzipped his hoodie and extended it towards you, “Sorry, it’s a little sweaty but if you want to wear it, you can.”

You smiled softly and accepted the sweatshirt, feeling more comfortable now.

“I’ve got his license plate number memorized and I intend to file a police report. Unfortunately, reports like these usually don’t go very far but I’ll keep pushing it through. I’ll also call the company that was printed on the side of the truck and ask to speak to his supervisor,” Spencer spoke softly after a few minutes.

“Thanks, Spencer,” you leaned your head on his shoulder and sighed.

“You don’t have to thank me for that. I’m just doing what’s right. He had no right to make comments about your body,” Spencer said, wrapping a gentle arm around your upper waist.

-

“Welcome to Y/N’s carbo-loading extravaganza!” you opened the door of your apartment to let Spencer in.

“I brought dessert as requested,” Spencer held up a chocolate cake.

“I like how you think, Spencer. Dinner’s all ready,” you smiled.

“Spaghetti, meatballs, and crispy buttery garlic bread,” you pulled the bread out of the oven.

“Looks absolutely delicious,” he complimented.

“Eating carbohydrates before a race boosts the glycogen storage in your muscles allowing you to work out longer,” Spencer informed you.

“Interesting, I never knew the science behind it but I’m never going to complain about eating tons of pasta and bread,” you twirled some pasta on to your fork.

Halfway through the meal, Spencer accidentally got a sauce stain on his pale pink shirt.

“Oh no,” you said as he tried to dab it away.

“That needs to soak right away. I don’t want any casualties at the carbo-loading extravaganza. Give it to me to scrub and I’ll get you another shirt.”

Spencer unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off. You gulped at the sight of him shirtless, grabbing the shirt and heading to your bathroom sink to scrub it with laundry detergent.

“You can just grab any t-shirt from my room that you think will fit,” you called out to him.

Spencer settled on a light gray shirt with a golden retriever on the front.

“Okay, the stain is out! It’s just soaking now-“ you immediately stopped talking as soon as you saw the shirt Spencer was wearing.

He noticed your eyes were beginning to glisten with tears, “I’m so sorry. I can pick a different shirt,” Spencer was already beginning to pull it over the top of his head.

“No it’s fine, Spencer. That’s just my grandma’s t-shirt. I forgot I even had it.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he spoke guiltily.

“You didn’t know, besides it looks good on you anyways,” you smiled, “My grandma is the whole reason I’m running the 5k.”

“My mom has Alzheimer’s too so I understand that it’s extremely hard to watch a loved one go through that,” Spencer pulled you in for a hug.

You cried into his chest as he rubbed soothing circles on your back.

After Spencer hadn’t heard any sniffles in a while, he whispered, “Do you have any tea I can make you?”

You nodded and Spencer guided you to the couch, wrapping you in a blanket before turning the kettle on.

-

Spencer answered the cheerful knocking at his front door early in the morning.

“Race day! Are you ready?” you exclaimed.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess,” Spencer smiled.

“I promise we are sticking together the whole time because it doesn’t matter how long it takes us as long as we finish,” you held up your pinky.

“Together,” Spencer affirmed, locking his pinky with yours.

The starting line in the park was only a short distance away from Spencer’s apartment so you and Spencer decided to walk there as a little warm-up.

You and Spencer were doing quad stretches when you saw his eyes wander to something behind you and then widen. His face immediately reddening.

“What?” you asked, turning around to see a group of people with a sign that read ‘Go Spencer and his girlfriend!’

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t expect them to do that,” Spencer stammered.

The poor boy was so flustered so you decided to take it easy on him.

“I don’t mind,” you shrugged with a slight smile.

“You don’t?” Spencer clarified, “I’m not very good with words or flirting in general but I would like to see you again after the race is over. Maybe I could take you out to dinner?”

“Yes but my only condition is...I’m driving,” you smirked.

“Oh, you’ll pay for that,” Spencer grinned.

An air horn sounded, signaling the start of the race.

“I think you’re going to have to catch me first, Dr. Reid,” you giggled as you sprinted ahead.

-

“It’s in sight, Spencer! We can do this!” you pointed to the finish line in the distance.

“Y/N, you’re going to have to carry me. I can’t,” Spencer heaved.

“If you finish this race, I will…” you cupped your hand to his ear and whispered something.

Spencer immediately perked up and started running again.

“Hey, wait up!” you laughed.

You and Spencer crossed the finish line at the same time. Spencer’s legs immediately gave out which caused you to fall too, collapsing on top of him.

“I know I’m really sweaty and gross right now but can I please kiss you?” Spencer whispered.

Your lips were pressed on his as soon as he finished his sentence. You honestly didn’t know how long you had been kissing for but you didn’t look up until you heard one of the race officials shout, “Hey lovebirds! That’s very sweet but other people are trying to cross the finish line.”

“Sorry!” you and Spencer apologized, scrambling to your feet.

“Not really,” Spencer whispered to you and you jabbed him in the side with your elbow playfully, stifling a laugh.

what slightly inspired this fic is one time @samuel-de-champagne-problems commented on one of my posts “i could never stay mad at spencer” and then i thought to myself “same. i couldn’t stay mad at him even if he hit me with his car” and now here we are... 🚙

taglist: (just ask to be added or removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @mochionly

[rainprose]

Question(s)...?

Debut: Can't he tell that I can't breathe? Am I right? So how can I ever try to be better? Does he know? Wil you ever know? Was it worth it? Was she worth this? "baby, is something wrong?" Why would you wanna break a perfectly good heart? Why would you wanna take our love and tear it all apart, now? Why would you wanna make the very first scar?

Fearless: Is this in my head? Why are people always leaving? Why aren't you here tonight? But would they write a song for you? Hey, isn't this easy? So why can't you see... ? All this time how could you not know, baby? Have you ever thought just maybe; you belong with me? Why do you have to make me feel small so you can feel whole inside? Why do you have to put down my dreams so you're the only thing on my mind? Were you just kidding? What happened, please tell me? Was I out of line? Did I say something way too honest? Where is this going? Did you forget everything? Can you feel it now? Can you see it now? Can you feel this magic in the air? Did you feel it? // "Don't you wish you had me?" How's your heart after breakin' mine? "When can I come back?" "... did you ever think of me?" So why don't you, don't you?

Speak Now: "Can you believe it?" Do you remember; we were sitting there by the water? Do you remember all the city lights on the water? How's life? Tell me, how's your family? Don't you think I was too young to be messed with? When I loved you so? Why you gotta be so mean? Is it killing you like it's killing me? How'd we end up this way? Your eyes whispered, "Have we met?" You might have him, but haven't you heard? Do you still feel like you know what you're doing? (So much better, yeah?) Wasn't it easier in your lunchbox days? Wasn't it beautiful when you believed in everything and everybody believed in you? Wasn't it easier in your firefly-catching days? Wasn't it beautiful running wild 'til you fell asleep, before the monsters caught up to you? Will you take a moment? [And you smile and say] "How are you?”

RED: "What???".... Remember how that lasted for a day? This is exhausting, you know? Can you tell me now, you’re the lucky one? "Don't you see the starlight, starlight? Don't you dream impossible things?" What do you say when tears are streaming down your face in front of everyone you know? And what do you do, when the one who means the most to you; is the one who didn't show? // What will become of me once I've lost my novelty? How can a person know everything at eighteen but nothing at twenty-two? And will you still want me when I'm nothing new? How long will it be cute, all this crying in my room? Are we only biding time 'til I lose your attention and someone else lights up the room? How did I go from growing up to breaking down? What about your promises, promises? How could you do this, babe? Do you have all the space that you need? "Why did you let her go?" Does it make you feel sad; that the love that you're lookin' for... is the love that you had? "Why fall in love, just so you can watch it go away?" "Do you know how much I miss you?” The idea you had of me; who was she? Did the twin flame bruise paint you blue? Did the love affair maim you all too well? Do you remember it all too well?

1989: Where you been? Ain't it funny, rumors fly? "Oh my God, who is she?" Are we out of the woods yet? Are we in the clear yet? Remember when you hit the brakes too soon? Remember when we couldn't take the heat? Why'd you have to go and lock me out when I let you in? Won't you come on over, baby? Did you have to do this? Did you have to ruin what was shiny? Did you have to hit me where I'm weak? Did you think we'd be fine? Now, did you think it all through? "Are you insane?" Didn't they tell us don't rush into things? Didn't you flash your green eyes at me? Haven't you heard what becomes of curious minds? Didn't it all seem new and exciting? Didn't you calm my fears with a Cheshire cat smile?

reputation: are you ready for it? why's it feel so good? we can't make any promises now... can we, babe? where you at? is it cool that I said all that? is it chill that you're in my head? is it too soon to do this yet? isn't it... delicate? are you ever dreaming of me? [locked me out and threw a feast] what??? but honestly baby; who's counting? who’s counting? but what can I say? is this the end of all the endings? oh, how were you to know? oh, how was I to know? so, baby, can we dance? through an avalanche? why did you have to rain on my parade? did you think I wouldn't hear all the things you said about me? but would you run away with me? would you run away??

Lover: I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard? Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years? Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close? Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand? When everyone believes ya; what's that like? What's it like to brag about raking in dollars and getting bitches and models? I say I don't want that; but what if I do? Who could ever leave me, darling? But who could stay? But what if I'm alright, right, right, right here? Can you see right through me? "So where we gonna go?" "Where we gonna go?" But if the story’s over, why am I still writing pages? What am I supposed to do, if there's no you? Remember how I said I'd die for you? Remember how I’d fly to you? "Hey, are you okay?" Can you just not step on my gown? Why are you mad when you could be GLAAD? Can you just not step on his gown? (Can you stop?) Can you just not step on our gowns? Why'd I have to break what I love so much? "Wanna hang out?" Yeah, sounds like fun.

folklore: but we were something, don't you think so? "how did a middle-class divorcée do it?" so, what am I defending now? did I deserve, babe, all the hell you gave me? if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake? are there still beautiful things? "are you sure?" will you call when you're back at school? do you remember? remember when I pulled up and said "get in the car" and then canceled my plans just in case you'd call? and isn't it just so pretty to think; all along there was some invisible string tying you to me? were there clues I didn't see? what did you think I'd say to that? does a scorpion sting when fighting back? what do you sing on your drive home? do you see my face in the neighbor's lawn? does she smile? or does she mouth, "fuck you forever"? every time you call me crazy, I get more crazy; what about that? would you have me? would you want me? would you tell me to go fuck myself? or lead me to the garden? in the garden, would you trust me? if I told you it was just a summer thing? will you have me? will you love me? will you kiss me on the porch, in front of all your stupid friends? if you kiss me, will it be just like I dreamed it? will it patch your broken wings? is it enough? would it be enough if I could never give you peace? you knew the hero died so what's the movie for? you knew you won so what's the point of keeping score? is it romantic how all my elegies eulogize me?

evermore: what must it be like to grow up that beautiful? while you were out building other worlds; where was I? where’s that man who'd throw blankets over my barbed wire? when did your winning smile, begin to look like a smirk? when did all our lessons start to look like weapons, pointed at my deepest hurt? hey, Dorothea, do you ever stop and think about me? but are you still the same soul I met under the bleachers? if I can't relate to you anymore, then who am I related to? and if this is the long haul; how'd we get here so soon? did I close my fist around something delicate? did I shatter you? wondering where did my baby go? what's a lifetime of achievement; if I pushed you to the edge? do you miss the rogue; who coaxed you into paradise and left you there? will you forgive my soul; when you're too wise to trust me and too old to care? how's one to know? what would he do if he found us out? oh, can we just get a pause? is there a line that I could just go cross? did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen? did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion?

[hotdogct]

dort oben wunderbar / l.yy

pairing: liu yangyang x reader genre: fluff words: 1k a/n: title comes from the german poem 'die lorelei'. once upon a time i fell in love with a german exchange student. its amazing how those stars line up.

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

liu yangyang liked to present himself as an open book.

he arrived with no warning in the fall - a new transfer student, fresh from germany and obnoxiously present in the majority of your classes. yangyang was often slow to the take, a bit chatty once you got him started, but friendly. from having to hear his brief first day introduction multiple times, you knew that he liked basketball, that his name meant ‘sheep’, he had one sibling. he had a loud laugh and wasted no time making friends, his international status making him effortlessly popular and in demand amongst the student body.

yes, you knew of liu yangyang. and those were the few things you knew about yangyang. but much like his forehead, you had a feeling the actual yangyang was shrouded in mystery, seldom seen.

this idea, the myth of there being a ‘real’ yangyang, ate away at you the entire year. your friends would call you silly, insist that maybe there was nothing more there than what he presented to the world: a friendly guy with an impressive talent for chugging a beer (growing up in germany had its perks, one supposed). you were almost content to leave it a lingering curiosity, let the rays of summertime fade his smile and name from your memory.

but when you overhear yangyang discussing his plans for the summer with sicheng one late spring afternoon before lecture started - and how they include an extended stay back in germany - you know the curiosity left unattended would morph into a scratch, a fever with no direct cure.

luckily, you also knew yangyang was a hit at parties - and that sicheng was throwing a rager that weekend.

*****

maybe you were just feeling emboldened from whatever drink yukhei had shoved into your hand upon arrival. maybe it was just the compulsive feeling for adventure that accompanies the dawn of summertime. but as you stumble your way across the backyard, dew drops that had accumulated on the grass now ticking at your ankles, you were determined to crack the code of one liu yangyang. before you lost your chance.

you spot your sheep sitting upon a brick ledge gazing lazily at the sky, landscaped perfection of shrubs and flowers behind him. you call out his name as you approach, waving timidly, the sudden courage you had felt minutes prior almost nonexistent until he reciprocates, greeting you by name with a wave and the familiar big smile that he flashes at everyone.

“wie gehts?” you ask upon your arrival, your rusty skills from 7th grade german class finally proving their worth.

“wunderbar, jetzt wo du hier bist,” yangyang pats the empty space beside him. “i didn’t know you spoke deutsch.”

“that’s about the extent of it,” you admit as you settle down, his subtle flirting auf deutsch flying way over your head - although you catch a whiff of beer on his breath. you suddenly realize how ridiculous you must have sounded to the drunk ex-pat. “you ready to go back for the summer? to the motherland?”

“yeah, i guess.” he replies, sounding oddly deflated for someone normally as cordially bubbly as him. despite the melancholy nature apparent in his tone, his gaze had returned upwards, intently focused upon the stars. only then do you also take notice of the scene above the two of you. the moon - nearly full herself and lighting up the expanse of the late night sky, where seldom a cloud was spotted. instead, you could clearly make out multiple clusters of stars that you could only assume formed constellations...

you could’ve easily lost yourself in the drunk daydream that came to you: yangyang teaching you how to identify the constellations, one by one, hands overlapping as you trace their shape in the sky. how, in this dream, your back is pressed firmly against his chest, and his breath tickles your ear with each symbol that he names for you. had you indulged in the fantasy for any longer, however, you would’ve missed the sliver of truth that just slipped past the real yangyang’s lips:

“sometimes, back home in deuts-, i mean like, germany, my sister and i we like, lived in the attic. well, our room was in the attic. we didn’t like, sleep together or anything. that would be weird.”

your blank stare served as your only reaction to the raw, honest ramble, with the moon providing just enough glow to the night sky that you could still make out yangyang’s cheeks darken in embarrassment, the boy coughing to clear the air. a moment later, he tried again.

“our parents probably should’ve installed, like, child locks on the windows up there, because on a clear night we would sneak out onto the roof. to stargaze. look at the milky way.”

“it’s honestly their own fault. when we first moved to dusseldorf, our parents would take us hiking up in the mountains.” you noticed then his hands were fidgeting nervously as he spoke, cracking a knuckle or picking at a nail. “sometimes we’d camp, and like. when the sun would set. the sky-”

he suddenly gestured widely, thrusting both arms outward and upward at the expanse of the world above the two of you, his lips puckered and brows furrowed as a mock explosion noise filled the air. you couldn’t help but laugh at the display yangyang had just put on, and his own encompassing, toothy grin joined yours not long after.

“i swear, we could see, like, the entire galaxy. and then some.”

“and how does this compare?” you knew it was an unfair question to ask of him. how could anything compare to the beauty he had just described for you? but you had found him stargazing, had interrupted his focus so selfishly. and for what, to satisfy your foolish curiosity?

“well,” yangyang’s voice felt like an emergency brake had just been pulled in your brain, curtailing your racing thoughts. “the view in dusseldorf can’t be beat.”

of course.

“but the company,” he turns to look at you, and it was your turn to turn crimson with his next words: “you, you’re y- schone, ganz schonen…” thrusting his arms out widely again in an exaggerated effort to translate, to emphasize exactly what he was trying to say in this moment. except there was no need, for the fault was all your own, and you understood exactly what he was trying to convey.

you had forgotten yet another fact about yangyang, perhaps the most crucial: he was a master flirt.

[barnesandco]

AYESHA!! Can I request, "their entire body freezing for a second when their love kisses them?" For any character you feel inspired to write for!

The Pay Off

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: brief mention of therapy and allusions to Bucky’s recovery after Hydra.

A/N: This.. got wildly out of hand.... and really, really wordy. I love these prompts and I want to write all of them while my WIPs stare at me feeling betrayed.

Like sunshine honey, the woman who has been sitting two seats down from Bucky at the library for the past four months, with a smile the ambience of New York dawn aimed unguarded at the book in your lap. He’s spoken a grand total of 37 sentences to you in that time, each one laden with the weight of this new existence he is carving out for himself, softly, a breakfast knife through butter. Every interaction with you -- every stolen glimpse up from his own space magazine -- leaves his throat parched but prickling with that sensitive heat that makes him want to thirst more. Like the tingle of salt after ocean water. 

Wetting his lips, he tries to refocus on the page in front of him. It details the scientific contributions of the Hubble Space Telescope, with a colorful side-box about the Nancy Grace Roman, who pioneered the notions of sending telescopes into space to unearth its secrets. The magazine is one from a neat stack to his right, a treasure of information he gathered to go through when he arrived today, but he isn’t making the amount of progress to finish reading by closing time.

Every Avenger has made a comment on getting a library card, to no avail. Sam’s information, Steve’s offer to do it in Bucky’s stead, Natasha’s suggestions of giving a fake name, and Wanda’s kind offer to come with him if he doesn’t want to do it alone, along with Tony’s centenarian-themed jokes and Shuri’s gift of a Kindle containing every book she could buy, have all been politely refused and tolerated in turn. Initially, it was because he likes it at the library. It’s the quietest place he has, and is coming to claim as another safe space. An escape. Now, however, there is a new variable he does not want to introduce to the team.

The woman who sits two seats down from him. You come her every afternoon, a book bag in one hand and a gigantic tote full of Lord-knows-what in the other, both dumped on the table before you go to find a book. He’s close enough to smell watermelons and strawberries, pink, sweet-summer things, reminders of a blueberry sky and sugary lemonade, memories he doesn’t remember having but can taste in the heavy air between them. It had taken him two weeks to discover that the scents were coming from the markers that he saw peeking out from the tote, stationary behaving the same way certain books do, enabling him to live a life he has never had.

Your life is a mystery to him, but he guesses at it, reading you. A rainbow of stray marker lines litters your hands almost perpetually, coming alive when they move rapidly as you check books, sometimes chuckling softly at a particular sentence. Once, he caught a Cheese Whiz stain on your cable-knit cuff, and at another occasion, saw you. Bucky is often overcome by the feeling of sonder at the realization that the clues he is gluing together make for a complex life, a marvel of an individual. There is guilt too, for his curiosity. But your eyes, even looking down, are captivating, and he is too far gone to stop. 

The idea of asking you out, of engaging in conversation beyond the moments of stranger familiarity, scares him still. Last time you spoke was when you laughed aloud at the set of examples one particular student had given for an assignment on sensory details. Zachary, age 11, had written that cow poop was a smell he did not like, sending his library companion into brilliant, bubbling laughs that you cut off too soon when you remembered where you were. At that point, you had looked around to see if anyone noticed, and spotting him, offered an apology he had rejected, on the condition that you share the joke. And you did.

But initiating the moment takes something more than what he has right now. His hands, mismatched and cold from the table, empty and longing, shut the magazine.

-----

The courage arrives on a Thursday. An ordinary day, by all accounts, only Bucky is on his fourth week of actual therapy, and got to the library through the subway, instead of Steve’s motorbike. Small victories fill his chest.

Only, you aren’t there when he gets in, and he panics. Fear and disappointment wrestle for a spot in his belly, claiming a tie in knots and weights, as he paces through the aisles of shelves in what he hopes is an unsuspicious speed. Giving up hope, he’s returning to his seat, head bowed, dismayed, when something collides against his side.

It’s you. A hurricane of movement with a slushie in one hand, your eyes also on the floor, and you crash against him with a shriek too late to save either of you. The slushie, cold and blue, spills out and lands on both of you, as you tumble, hands on Bucky’s elbows while his are on yours as he pulls you down, and you land in a heap of ice-water and sticky saccharine snow, a warm weight on top of him.

The library goes silent, for a breath, and then, when the shock lifts, two librarians come rushing from around some hidden corners, by which time you and Bucky have composed yourselves enough to stand and start to apologize profusely in cut-off sentences and shaky stutters. The slush is sinking through his clothes but there is a flush in his cheeks, and somehow, looking at your beautiful face, he has never been warmer.

When the slushie has been cleaned up with rags -- his hand is starting to shiver -- he stands with more sorry on his tongue, but you say, with a grin, “I guess you really fell for me, huh?”

The quip is surprising, but he laughs. Looks between your now-blue blouse and his inky t-shirt, and makes the leap. “Maybe I can get you another drink to make up for it.” And the pleased shock on your mouth, lips parted slightly and breath still recovering, is worth every step and fall it took to get to that one line.

-----

It goes well. He won’t call it a date, in spite of everyone else’s juvenile cooing and teasing when he leaves the Compound on a Saturday evening in his car. It’s a 70s Mustang, body the color of his old Commandos coat, and the interior a shiny black lined with golden stitching and accents. Royal and his very own. Turning towards the neighborhood you live in, he recalls the months it took to restore the damn thing, the last weeks of which were spent practically living in the garage, breathing on the anticipation of this monstrous achievement.

Queens is neon lights and family-owned delis, the scent of tacos mingling with that of curries, and there’s a different language in each window front. You said you lived in an apartment a couple of stories above a Vietnamese bar. 

You’re exiting just as he gets out of the car, and it takes a moment to catch his breath. In jeans and a silk shirt, you are the sun, and he cannot wait to get to revel in your warmth for at least one evening. 

-----

It goes well. With the exception of nerves he can’t rid himself of but rather ignores, everything is perfect. You had enjoyed his handmade picnic in Central Park, and his disgruntled commentary on how things used to be when you got stuck in traffic on the way back. His imitations of Steve and Tony had you in stitches, after which you had fed him Doritos from a packet he did not know was in the glove-box. 

Smooth sailing, soft as cream and just as gentle, the night, until you get back. It is late, and the lights are starting to flicker out of shop windows, and you go a little bit quiet, discontinuing the steady stream of chatter you have been maintaining with him. 

Something is in the air. Something sparking with promise. It hushes your voices and tightens his throat and has his hand trembling when he opens his door and then yours to let you own. You stand in the pale glow of the corner streetlamp, and his hands are in his pockets like he’s sixteen again, wanting to kiss a girl but unsure how to go about it.

Fortunately for him, you’re not a girl. You’re a woman. Made from electric fire and whatever strength that holds the cotton clouds in the sky, luminous and wondrous. 

“I know that was a bit more than a drink, so thank you for agreeing to this,” he says, meeting your eyes.

Your finger is tracing the face of your watch absently as you smile at him. “I had a great time.”

“Really?” Bucky blurts out, and then hurries to suspend the disbelief.

The answer you give him has his heart doing somersaults. “Yeah. I’d actually love to do this again if you feel the same.”

“Of course. Yes, obviously.” He puts a brake on his train of speech, explains as he walks a little closer to you, close enough to count your eyelashes. “I’m sorry, I haven’t been on a date in 80 years, and I’m a little rusty, but--”

Like the event that started it all, your first kiss is a crash. You lean up slowly and he has time to stop you but he doesn’t. He lets you kiss him and freezes, from head to toe, upon the feeling of your soft lips. Stopping within seconds, you lean back, sheepish, ready to back away and run, he’s certain. His head clears, he thinks a little straighter. 

“Sorry, will you let me try that again?” He asks, clearing his throat, and you lift your hand to hold his. 

The warmth of your hold envelopes the back of his human hand, and twists your grip so your fingers are intertwined, so much more surface area to gain heat and the motivation to seek further touch from. “If you stop saying sorry, sure.”

He closes his eyes before you do, and this time, the meeting of your lips is soft. A kiss, not a crash, an elegant collision of mouths and shared wants. In a few breaths of movement, as your other hand rises to his hair and his holds your waist, you come closer, and Bucky grows breathless. The kiss lasts for what feels like minutes too long and hours too short at the same exact time, as you break away with a gasp for air that has pride blooming under his sternum. 

Eyes shining, he hopes he’ll get to do that again. As you kiss his cheek and turn to your door, he looks forward to sitting two seats closer to you on Monday.

[chilly-me-softly]

Every Little Thing’s Gonna Be Alright • Chapter 8

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7

The phone vibrates beside her, distracting her from the episode she is watching, and she groans softly. It's not even seven in the morning and someone has already decided to test her patience. She hates phone calls, she's always afraid to stay silent on the line without knowing what to say. But when she sees the ID caller, she gladly answers.

"Hello"

"Hi, it's Jack... Grealish"

"I know" she murmurs lowering the computer screen and putting it to the side. They had exchanged numbers almost a week before, the day he had stayed over. She'd actually taken the numbers of all the guys who'd helped give her baby a safe place to sleep that day but she hadn't exactly turned him down when Jack had asked her if she'd minded him using that number from time to time. To get updates on the baby he'd said, because he'd assembled her cot and the least she could do was update him every now and then.

"I hope I didn't wake you up, but when I checked the clock I had already started the call and it was too late to back out" he states all in one breath and she finds herself shaking her head, suppressing a laugh.

"It's okay, I was awake. If I hadn't been for a while I might even believe this’s just a dream anyway"

"How so?"

"Ah nothing. It's just that it's all so surreal you know"

"I told you I'd call you sometime"

"I know, but I guess part of me thought you didn't mean it"

"Why, because you turn me into your little slave last time?!"

"Hey you're the one wanted to help" she retorts immediately and his laugh reaching her ears soon after is something unique. She had noticed it already that night, but she was so high at the time that even banging her pinkie somewhere would be the best thing in the world. And hearing it again, calmer and with the right emotional detachment, undoubtedly hadn't changed her opinion: her lips stretches into a smile again; the desire to feel it again and again, still there.

She runs a hand over her stomach absentmindedly as a thud and some odd noise is heard, before Jack's voice. "It's been a pleasure anyway"

"What are you up to anyway? Why already awake?"

"I'm about to leave the house now. I've got practice in a couple of hours but I always like to get there a little early"

"I see, captain Jack Grealish setting an example to everyone"

"Stop it, you're making me blush" Jack jokes but he's actually thankful no one can actually see him blushing like a stupid teenager as he waits for the automatic gate to open.

"Wait, I hope you're not on the phone with me while you're driving"

"No, I mean yes… I’m in the car. But my hands are free to drive"

"Good" and she doesn't actually know what's going on, she doesn't know why they're talking to each other like they're old friends interested and curious about each other's lives. All she knows is that only a few times recently she's felt so light, so carefree, so entertained by something and she wants to ride the wave while she can. Jack is a nice guy after all and she's certainly not wasting her time in chatting with him.

"Hey listen, I gotta go" he finally sighs, actually stopped at his parking space for a few minutes already. He had tried to drive as slowly as possible, but the destination had still arrived sooner than he had expected.

"Oh that's okay, I should have gone to the bathroom anyway" she giggles, starting to shrug off the blanket, "You know my pregnant vagina doesn't wait" and runs a hand over her face immediately afterwards internally cursing herself for saying that while he laughs it off on the other end of the phone. "I'll let you go then"

"Have a nice day. Thanks for the call, I really enjoyed it"

"Well we could do it again, don’t we?"

"Yeah, why not" Jack smiles smugly letting his head go against the seat before the two greet for the last time and continue their days.

The two continue to be in touch over the next few days. Mornings when he's getting ready to go to training while she's comfortably lying in bed seem to be the perfect time to do it, the best way to start the day. Each time a different topic, whatever is on their minds, allowing them to get to know each other's thoughts on many things. To see different things from a different perspective, to re-evaluate others, to joke and make fun of each other.

Evelyn could see early on that Jack likes to talk rather than text, he's one of those people who might call even though a simple message might simplify things. He likes to hear a person's voice, have a face-to-face conversation and watch the gestures of the person in front of him. It's easy to hide feelings by text or misunderstand what is being written.

She, on the other hand, is his opposite, she could spend hours and hours texting. She would rather wait for hours for a reply than solve everything in a short time with a phone call. She simply feels uncomfortable calling someone. The pressure of having to talk in order not to create awkward silences, the unpredictability of what might be said by the other person, not being able to hide their feelings.

And it's always Jack then taking the first step, who calls first. But every time a smile breaks out on her face when she reads his name on the screen.

He even goes to the next level, the video call. Her second nightmare of course. And one of her greatest fears had also come true. The two of them had stood looking at each other without saying anything at one point, but Evelyn hadn't felt embarrassed unlike many other times. She had just stood there quietly staring at him, him lying with his head on his pillow doing the same, lost in his own world thinking about who knows what. And she hadn't thought about anything, hadn't thought about filling that void, because it felt right. It felt right.

It's different with Jack. She doesn't look at the clock hoping to finish as soon as possible, she doesn't make excuses to hang up, she doesn't feel satisfied if for some reason they can't talk during the day.

And that is precisely why at some point she has to put a brake on herself, slow down before everything slips from her hands irreparably. Because talking to him is easy, imagining things is even easier. And she could easily keep blaming hormones if it makes her feel better, burying everything somewhere as she always does. But she can't possibly get her hopes up, she can't let her mind wander. She just can't.

----

Tag: @alexajanecollins @emwritesfootball

Chapter 9

[platypanthewriter]

See You On the Other Side

Febuwhump: Day 5, Take Me Instead (got a lil derailed though) WIP

Steve was driving at night, listening to the radio.  The Eurythmics were blasting out his windows, the breeze whipping his hair and drying the sweat of Indiana in August, and there was nothing ahead of him in the road, when suddenly Billy Goddamn Hargrove stepped out right in front of his car.  The headlights lit up his bloodied wifebeater and the cigarette in his hand as the bumper of Steve’s car passed through him, and Steve yelled.  

The brakes screeched as Steve’s car came to an angled stop, and he panted, his arms up as he stared around, his heart thudding in his chest.  He scrambled out to look back, and his tail lights showed a dark shape standing, idly, where he’d just driven his car.  Steve jogged back.  

It was definitely Billy, sweaty, blueish, and bloodied as Steve had last seen him.  He was smirking past Steve’s head.  “...that you, pretty boy?” he asked, with a rasp in his voice Steve didn’t remember, and black fluid dried down his chin and neck.

“Don’t cream your pants,” Steve said automatically, jerking his head to squint at his car, then back to where Billy was standing, smack between the rubber marks where he’d tried to stop.  

“...move along,” Billy said, turning away, and Steve dodged around him, staring into his face, as Billy laughed, hunching his shoulders.  “...you want something from me, King Steve?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, reaching out, then yanking his hand back.  “What the hell is going on?!”

“You wanna know more about me, your majesty?” Billy asked, stalking forward so their faces passed through each other, and Steve stumbled backwards so fast he nearly fell on his ass.  He caught himself in a crouch with one hand behind him, and pushed himself back up as Billy laughed his ass off.  

“Screw you,” Steve muttered, dusting himself off, but he could hardly just leave Max’s dead brother wandering the highway.  “Why’re you...streetwalking?”

“...I am not doing that,” Billy snorted.  “Sounds kinda unsatisfying, who’s gonna pay a ghost for a fuck?”

“What?” Steve asked, squinting, and Billy shrugged, raising his eyebrows.  Steve sighed.  “Jesus, I forgot what a dickhead you are.”

“Drive on, then, Harrington,” Billy waved him off, and Steve had to trot after him again as he wandered down the road.  

“Does Max know you’re out here?” he asked, and Billy snorted.

“The fuck would she care.”

“She cares,” Steve told him, stubbornly.  “No idea why, really—why’re you here, anyway?  You didn’t get run over—”

“Actually, I just did,” Billy pointed out.  

“You died at Starcourt,” Steve finished, and Billy tucked his hands in his pockets again, and started walking away.  “Why aren’t you—”

“What, in hell?” Billy snarled back.  “I don’t know where the fuck I am—”

“Johnson’s Texaco’s like three minutes thattaway,” Steve pointed, and Billy cocked his head, frowning over his shoulder, then pointed hesitantly the other way.  “...so the mall is…” 

“Yep,” Steve told him, and Billy stopped, sighing.  Steve opened his mouth to talk, then closed it, and blew air into his cheeks, feeling like a frustrated chipmunk.  “...I dunno if I can give you a ride,” he said after a while, and Billy snorted.

“Pretty obvious you can’t,” he said, sitting down right there in the road.  “The fuck d’you even want.”

“...come on, get out of the road, you’re gonna cause a wreck,” Steve told him, his hands passing through Billy’s arms, and Billy laughed.  

“Yeah, even dead I’m causing problems for everyone,” he said, lying back, so he was sprawled across both sides of the road, his arms and legs outstretched.  “Fuck off.”

Steve sighed, stalked back to his car, and swung it around, pulling over to the shoulder.   He looked for headlights before he stepped into the road, and walked over to kick through Billy’s starfished leg.  “The hell are you doing, man,” he sighed, and Billy raised one arm to flip him off.  Steve crouched, considering.  He’d heard a fair amount about Max and Billy from Dustin—Billy’s mom wasn’t in the picture, he gathered.  “You want me to tell your dad you’re here?”

Billy sat up, glaring at him.  “No, I fucking don’t, fuck off, leave me the fuck alone—”

“Oh,” Steve said, thinking.  

“Don’t you dare,” Billy hissed.  “Only good thing about being dead, him having nothing to say about it.”

“...oh,” said Steve, grimacing.  

“...why are you still here,” Billy sighed.

“Uh,” Steve said, thinking.  “Uh, El is fine,” he said slowly, and Billy laughed.

“You think I give a shit?!”

“...I mean, you died saving her,” Steve told him, “—so yeah, kinda.”

“Got her in trouble in the first place,” Billy said, so low Steve barely heard it.  “If I hadn’t gone fucking—crazy—”  Steve opened his mouth to answer, and heard a car coming.  He stood, frowning, and Billy scrambled to his feet and waved his hands through Steve’s torso.  “Get the fuck out of the road, Harrington—”

Steve allowed himself to be waved to the side of the road well before the truck even came around the curve and its headlights lit them up.  “...how come you’re out here?” he asked again.  

“...you should go,” Billy said, following him to his car.  “There’s shit out here worse than me.”  

He walked off into the woods after that, making no noise in the underbrush, and Steve couldn’t see him outside the area lit by the streetlights.  

 There hadn’t been much reason to go to Starcourt, before that, but he swung by after he spent his whole shift the next day wondering whether he should tell Robin he’d met the ghost of Billy Hargrove, or be honest, and admit he was going insane.  

Billy was lying along a car-sized chunk of fallen cement, and Steve wandered closer, watching him.  He looked...like a dead guy, Steve thought, he wasn’t glowing, or transparent—he was just there, his tank top stained with dried blood and black ooze, staring up at the sky.  “...Hargrove,” Steve called, and Billy sat up and glared at him.  

“You checkin’ me out?” he asked, raising his eyebrows, grinning, and then trotting over.  He walked right up to Steve again, and Steve dodged back as Billy’s face brushed through his.

“You made it back,” Steve observed, wiping his face off with a reflexive reflex, and then feeling dumb, because it wasn’t like it actually had Billy’s brain on it.  

Billy shrugged, smirking.  “The hell else am I supposed to go,” he laughed.  “They didn’t dig me out.”  

“Shit,” Steve agreed, raising his eyebrows, and Billy snorted, watching him.  “...what’d you mean, there’s shit worse than you?”

“Fuck you very much,” Billy laughed, tensing, but he didn’t answer.  His eyes raked over the parking lot.  

“I didn’t tell anyone you were, uh.  About you,” Steve told him, and Billy barked a laugh.  

“Because that always goes well,” he said, baring his teeth in a grin.  “How come I didn’t just—tell you I’d lost my shit, Harrington?  You’d’a put me down.  Beat my fucking head in.”

“...what?” Steve asked, blinking at him.

“Before I turned into—fucking Zodiac Killer,” Billy said flatly, his hands shaking.  “What’d my body count even end up being?”

“Wait, no,” Steve held his hands up.  “You—you were like, um, y’know, that movie with the little girl who pukes pea soup on a priest?”

“...you’re saying demons are real,” Billy scoffed, but watched him warily.  “...I was wondering if you were real, and then you said dumb shit about the Exorcist, and thought I’d wanna see my dad—”

“They’re...sort of real,” Steve said, biting his lip.  “I mean, you weren’t...you.  There was—there’s a—” he fumbled around, trying to explain, and Billy listened, waiting.  “...it drove you like a car,” Steve said finally.  “The uh, the car doesn’t—you couldn’t pick where to go.  Right?”

“...sure what it felt like,” Billy said, clenching his fists.  “I couldn’t—I could—sometimes, I could—I could go to work, or—but then I’d—” he took a deep breath, and then growled into his hands.  “...I tried to call the cops,” he whispered, and Steve ran his fingers through his hair anxiously, trying to think of something to say.

“Wasn’t your fault,” he said first, and Billy snorted a laugh.  “It wasn’t,” Steve told him, and when Billy opened his mouth to argue again, Steve waved his hands wildly.  “No, no, listen.  Look.  Okay.  There’s a lab—no,” he bit his lip, thinking, and tried again.  “The government started giving people these drugs, like, my mom’s age, when they were like—in college, like the seventies,” he began, and Billy listened.  After a while he sat down, glowering intently between questions, and Steve sat down crosslegged on the ground facing him.  

Billy didn’t have a ton of questions, but most of the ones he did have were about Will, and how Joyce Byers had saved him, and he stared down at his hands, licking his teeth in a fidgety way, his eyebrows raised like his brain needed the space.  

As Steve kept talking, Billy laid down, rubbing his face, but he listened to the end, staring at the sky as Steve told him about Hopper dying, and El and Will moving away.  

When the whole story was done, Steve sat and thought, watching Billy.  “...so it wasn’t your fault,” he said again, and Billy laughed hoarsely, curling onto his side, towards Steve.  

“...yeah, sure,” he said, his eyes distant.

The sun was setting, the sunset bright through the fence around Starcourt Mall, and Steve wondered, in passing, whether there was anything worth stealing in there—the quarter rodeo ride, or the candy machines.  

Billy sighed, closing his eyes.  There were dark circles under them, and Steve wondered, grimacing, whether the Mindflayer had let him sleep before he died.  He was grimier than Steve remembered, too, and it occured to him to be glad Billy’s ghost hadn’t kept whatever broken bones he’d gotten in the wreckage.  

He looked exhausted, and filthy, his curls greasy and tangled, but he walked fine, and there weren’t—Steve thought, with a shudder—bones jutting from a crushed ribcage, or a squashed eyeball dangling from a misshapen skull.  He just looked...asleep, Steve realized, as Billy curled up a little tighter, frowning, and making a little noise under his breath.  

Steve bit his lips together, watching Billy Hargrove bury his face in his arms, and then got his homework, and the flashlight from his car.  Every time Billy would start to squirm, and mumble, Steve would hiss “Psst!  Billy!” and he’d jerk, and roll into a different position, his shoulders relaxing, and Steve bit his lips together, feeling helpless.  

He was through his math problems, his essay on the Depression, and halfway through The Great Gatsby, when Billy sat up, glaring at him.  “...what the fuck,” he breathed.  “What—” he glanced around, his eyes narrowed against the darkness.  “What the fuck, why—why are you—what are you doing?!”

“Homework,” Steve said stubbornly, rubbing the back of his neck, and sitting his book down to stretch.

“Why are you doing it here,” Billy asked, sounding pissed.  “Fuck off home, Harrington—”

Steve sighed, and did, stopping as Billy ran up alongside him.  “...what.”

“Just being a ghost,” Billy whispered, leaning in to brush their faces a little through each other again, and Steve staggered back, yelling.  

“Stop putting your brain on my brain,” he growled, glaring, as Billy cracked up, leaning in Steve’s car door like a prick.  

“You sure?” Billy licked his lips, and Steve rolled his eyes, and took off the parking brake to head home.

 Steve took his bag of McD’s and parked in the lot of the charred ruin of Starcourt Mall.  He ripped the salt packet open, sprinkled his steaming-hot fries, and watched the floaty stuff start to rain down around his car as Billy approached, his weird Upside-Down atmosphere around him.  Steve heard the seat settle deeper next to him, and took a bite of his burger.

“Jesus, that looks good,” Billy said, and Steve glanced over, still chewing.

“You can see it, but you can’t, like...touch it?” he asked, and Billy demonstrated, waving a hand through Steve’s fries.  He was like Barb in Steve’s pool.   Steve watched him, until Billy licked his lips.  

“Take a picture, it lasts longer.  You can jack off to it at night.”

Steve rolled his eyes, and settled back in his seat, sighing.  “...you think maybe you can show me where you are?”

“Here,” Billy snorted, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I know, dumbass,” Steve sighed again.  “I mean, y’know...you.”  He took another bite of his burger, after stuffing a few fries in his mouth.

“Why, you gonna throw some holy water around,” Billy shot back.  “Fucking...exorcise me.”

Steve chewed slowly and swallowed, as Billy glared moodily at his dashboard.  “Nah,” he said, finally, and Billy glared over warily.  “I thought maybe...if you’re like...haunting your, uh,” he waved a hand at Billy, grimacing, and Billy bristled.

“What,” he hissed.

“Thought I could like…” Steve frowned at the french fries, grabbing a handful, “—take you with me.  Maybe.”

“...what,” Billy growled, his eyes narrowed.  “What the hell are you—”

“Fine, jesus,” Steve said, rolling his eyes, and taking his car out of park.  “Have fun haunting a burned-out mall.”

“Wait! Wait,” Billy shouted, scrambling up onto the seat.  “Wait, Harrington, what the fuck—you gonna—you gonna, like, drive my skull around?”

“...I guess,” Steve said, wrinkling his nose, and putting his car back in park.  “Maybe.  I mean, we could—we can try and figure out where you are, maybe—maybe I don’t need the whole thing.”

“Put my middle finger on your keychain,” Billy breathed.  “That’d be metal.”

Steve snickered, watching his grin.  “Do you know where you are?” he asked, and Billy shivered, swallowing.  He shook his head.

“I...I don’t know,” he breathed, staring at the mall through the window.  “I don’t, uh,” he took a shuddery breath, and Steve wondered whether it helped.  “I don’t remember too clear,” Billy whispered.

“Okay,” Steve nodded, grimacing.  “Okay, uh, I’ll—I’ll bring a shovel, okay.  I’ll—I’ll find you.”

Billy turned and glared at him, his eyes reddening, a little.  “...why?”

“Dude,” Steve glared over, smacking his fists, holding the burger, into the steering wheel.  “The hell d’you mean why.”

“...I coulda killed you,” Billy said, and Steve grimaced, clearing his throat.  

“Yeah, well, then you got yourself killed saving El, okay, we’re even.  They’re gonna tear that shit down,” Steve pointed with a french fry, his eyes narrowed at Billy as he chewed, and Billy’s mouth quirked.  “You’re gonna end up in the dump, or something,” Steve said, throwing a french fry through him, and Billy snorted a laugh.  Steve threw another one.  “You wanna haunt the dump, asshole?!”

“Sounds like a wild night,” Billy said, holding his hands up as Steve threatened to throw another fry.  “...not sure you’re gonna find much, though.”

“Oh, I will,” Steve told him.

 That Friday night, Steve went back and tossed a shovel over the fence before climbing up it himself.  He wandered through the ruined mall kicking wreckage until he heard Billy’s voice.  

“The hell are you gonna do, dig me up and like...throw me in a trash bag,” he asked.  “I’m gonna smell like shit.”

“Oh, crap, yeah,” Steve said, stopping.  “You’ve been dead what, a couple months, in the summer.”  He sighed, and kept kicking rubble around.  

Billy yelled “Harrington, move your ass,” and Steve scrambled to the side as the charred, twisted metal he’d kicked collapsed, and he ran, stumbling into where the roof had already fallen.  He dropped to a crouch, panting, as Billy’s bluish hands waved through him.  

“Shit, Harrington,” he whispered.

“...I can’t figure out where the dome was, even,” Steve groaned, stretching.  “Come on, work at it a little.”

“You’re still trying?!” Billy panted, staring at him in the dim evening light, as Steve coughed cement dust, perched unsteadily on rubble.

Steve sighed, steadying himself on a rusty hunk of exposed rebar.  “Yeah, shithead, I’m still trying.”

“Fuck,” Billy whispered, frowning around.  “Look, go—go back.  I’ll try to find it, okay, it’s—it’s a fucking deathtrap here, in the dark.”

“I can’t dig during the day,” Steve reminded him, rolling his eyes.  

“You can get the fuck out of here,” Billy hissed.  “Go home and fuck that bitch Wheeler, I’ll find it, jesus—”

“Euuugh,” Steve groaned, but he let Billy lead him out, squinting after the slightly darker shape outlined by the traffic lights.  He tripped once, and Billy was half through him, waving his hands at Steve’s, before they both remembered the whole reason they were there, and Billy turned away, taking a deep breath.  “...it’s okay, man,” Steve said, and then felt like an idiot, because it really wasn’t.

“...are you bleeding from anywhere?” Billy asked hoarsely, and Steve was the one who reached out that time, and then muttered angrily to himself.

 Steve went home and called the Byers’, said hello absently to Jonathan, and asked for Joyce.  “Um,” he said, taking a deep breath.  “Uh, I know this—sucks—but I need to ask some questions.  About—about Will.  About how you—knew.”

Part Two

[feminaexlux]

Chartreux

This is from Lukanette February 2020 (which feels like years ago at this point, doesn't it?). I wanted to repost it as a whole story because I went back and re-read some of my old stuff that I posted separately and I'd like to share it again :)

Enjoy! AO3 chapter link

⁂

Note

Plagg floated in front of Adrien. "Kid, you're sick. How are you gonna be Chat Noir if you're delirious?"

"Ladybug needs me," Adrien groaned. Last time he checked his temperature it was around 39c. "She… she shouldn't handle the akuma on her own!"

"She'll be fine," Plagg sighed. "Get some rest! Take a nap, you'll feel better after."

Adrien frowned. "No, I need to help her. Plagg, claws ou-!" He coughed. It was a hoarse, lung-bruising cough. "Oww."

"Eww, gross," Plagg complained. "Humans are so disgusting."

"Ladybug needs backup…" Adrien sighed. "If she gets caught it's game over, Plagg. Hawkmoth wins and everyone loses!"

"She's got plenty of other helpers, Adrien! You gotta relax."

"No, it's dangerous because Hawkmoth knows who they are! She needs Chat Noir."

"Ugh, fiiiine. Leave it to me, again, to save the day," Plagg griped.

Adrien smiled. "I knew you'd come around. Plagg, claws-!" Plagg threw a pillow at Adrien and knocked him backward into his bed. Adrien immediately passed out.

"Knocked over by a feather. You sure woulda been useful to Ladybug like that." Plagg huffed and floated over to Adrien's hand, gingerly pulling off the Miraculous. "I gotta find Ladybug's other boyfriend," the little kwami sighed.

⁂

Luka Couffaine was watching the livestream of the latest akuma through his phone. For some reason Ladybug was fighting the twin gorgons by herself and Chat Noir was nowhere to be seen, which worried everyone. Hopefully Chat Noir was alright… it wasn't like him to let Ladybug handle everything by herself.

Suddenly a wide silver ring dropped into his lap. Luka's immediate impulse was to look up and find who dropped it, but he wasn't able to see anyone or anything that might have possibly done it. There was a voice in his head that told him to put it on, but he wasn't going to start wearing someone else's prized just put it on you blockhead

What?

for gouda's sake just put the darn ring on kid

Okay. The ring was talking to him. Luka reluctantly put it on. Plagg appeared before him. "Finally. I'm Plagg, kwami of Destruction, you're gonna be using me today to help Ladybug. Your power is Cataclysm and after you use it you only got 5 minutes to wrap it up. Once you guys have won hand me over to Ladybug and it'll alllll be done and I can finally get a nap. You got it?"

Luka breathed out the breath he hadn't known he held in. "You're Chat's kwami. That's why he's not dealing with the akuma right now."

"Smart kid, you've already figured it out. You get to be Chat Noir today. But maybe you should call yourself something else. How about Chartreux? Transformation phrase is Claws Out, detransformation is Claws In. Got it? Let's go already."

⁂

Ladybug had already used her Lucky Charm and… she wasn't able to figure out which of the two gorgons had the akumatized object in time. She kept having to dodge the petrification beams from two akumas (though she was sure one was a sentimonster clone), and her Lucky Charm had been a guitar pick! She had no idea what to do with it. Actually, scratch that, she knew Tikki or the Lucky Charm wanted her to reach out to Viperion, but… that was dangerous. Hawkmoth knew Luka was Viperion, so she'd try her best without his help right now. But where the heck was that cat?! "Chaaaat, I really could use your help right now!" She yelled out to no one in particular.

A dark figure landed nearby. "Sorry, Ladybug," said a familiar voice that was not Chat Noir's. "Chat's out of commission today, but… I'm his substitute." A tall figure in Chat's outfit - no, it was kind of… spikier? and dark gray? - spoke to Ladybug, spinning the baton to create a shield to block the petrification beams. Oh no. What happened? "I'm… Chartreux."

"Ummmm, hi," Ladybug said. "Well, if you're on my side then I'm glad to have you." She looked him over more closely when she had a chance. Taller, black fluffy hair with green tips instead of all blond, and he had black earrings? Earrings? Oh no. She knew his voice sounded familiar. Oh no. She'd know those lips and that jawline from anywhere since she spent so long staring at them as Marinette. Oh no.

"I got some explanation of things, so… I'll try my best."

Ladybug had to make a mental note that Chat!Luka was going to be very, very distracting.

Teddy Bear

Ladybug sighed heavily as her earrings kept beeping. She gave Chartreux a rundown of everything she saw with Madusa (times two, ugh) and what she was attacking (seemed like mostly other girls? Yikes). Ladybug gave her thoughts on how she might have been a jilted girl(friend) with Valentine's Day coming around the corner and Chartreux gave a lopsided smirk.

Dang it stop doing that Luka, she thought, staring at his lips again. She shook her head to focus. "Chat… I mean Chartreux, I'm so sorry but I have to recharge. I really hate to leave you alone like this but…"

"It's alright, Ladybug. I understand. I'll try to distract them and lead them away from civilians."

She put a hand on his arm and squeezed. For encouragement. "Good plan, thank you. I'll be back as soon as I can. Alright, bug out!"

⁂

Marinette detransformed behind a building and watched Chat!Luka leap away surprisingly gracefully from the building they had just been on top of. She was fascinated at how… fluid everything looked with him. He was kind of a natural at strategically using his baton as an impromptu high-bar to swing himself between spaces and levels while keeping buildings between him and the Madusas for cover.

"MARINETTE!" Tikki yelled, apparently not for the first time. "Marinette?"

"Oh! Oh gosh, Tikki! I'm sorry."

"We have to figure out which one is the sentimonster first. I think we need to separate them and find out where the amok is."

"Alright, good idea, Tikki! Let me see if I can find a safe place." Marinette ran toward the end of the alleyway and ducked her head out to take a quick scan and nearly got hit by a beam. "Whoa!!!"

Unfortunately, it appeared that while Chat!Luka was able to get the attention of one of the Madusas and lead her away, the other one kept circling back to the apparent epicenter of the akumatization. That gave Marinette an idea. She was looking around for cover when she felt an arm around her waist and yelped as she was pulled sideways.

"Marinette, what are you doing here?!" Chartreux yelled, stumbling a little but recovering when she turned to face him and threw her arms around him reflexively.

"Ch-Chat?! Wait, what?!" While Chat!Luka was making an abrupt quarter turn, Marinette got further pressed into him as he made a braking maneuver against a wall and then launched them into an adjoining alleyway. It happened so fast she got slightly dizzy. "Whoa," she moaned.

"Marinette?! Sorry, I'm much faster than I thought I'd be," Chartreux said apologetically.

"It's okay, L–CHAT–I mean! Wh-who are you?"

Chartreux snickered a little. "Just a friend," he winked. "Let's get you somewhere safe."

That was what Marinette had been trying to do… She noticed something in the corner of her eye and turned her head, spotting the wax museum. "Um! Can you drop me off there?" She pointed her arm and directed his line of sight. Chat!Luka slowed down and pulled her in tight against him, weaving around the two streams of the petrifying lasers from both Madusas when they spotted the hero running across the street.

⁂

Adrien woke up a bit less headachey than when he went to sleep, and he groaned sitting up on his bed. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. There was something… different about things, but he shrugged and assumed it felt off because he was sick. He sighed and got to his couch, turning on the television. He was hardly paying attention until he heard Nadja Chamack talking about Chat Noir rescuing a civilian and how Ladybug was missing.

He blinked his bleary eyes. "Plagg?" There wasn't a response. "PLAGG?!" He was suddenly wide awake and stood up a bit too quickly, getting lightheaded and dizzy. He fell back to his couch and looked at a close-up shot of "Chat Noir" and the civilian. That "Chat Noir" was… taller? And That "Chat Noir" was holding Adrien's favorite civilian Marinette Dupain-Cheng up against himself (pretty intimately, Adrien thought irritably) while heading away from the akumas. Maybe Adrien was hallucinating. Yeah, that was it, this was all just a bad fever dream.

The Real Chat Noir needed to go help Ladybug right away.

Adrien stumbled back to his bed in his exhausted state and pulled off the covers off of a lump on his bed, assuming he'd find the kwami settled in like the lazy cat he was. Instead Adrien found a teddy bear with a heart pillow, inscribed with a "Feel Better Soon ❤️".

Letters

If the Madusas were turning people into stone, then running through the wax museum where the "people" there were already immobile seemed to be a good plan. That had been the thought process running through Marinette's mind before she realized that she and Chartreux needed to evacuate the real people inside. Luckily Chartreux was already on that as soon as they opened the doors, directing people to go down to the subway, goodness bless that boy.

Marinette helped him as much as she could while she kept trying to lose him in the evacuating crowd to duck out and transform back into Ladybug. Of course of all the people the black cat Miraculous could have gone to, it went to Luka Couffaine, who ten times out of ten could find Marinette in the chaos. Marinette had counted.

"Chat-um-whatever, could you let me go? Don't I need to go hide?!" Marinette yelled at Chartreux, who had unabashedly let his tail wrap around her ankle to keep tabs on her.

"I know you're brave, Marinette, but you don't hide, you keep throwing yourself into danger as soon as I turn my back so I'm going to personally drop you off at home. Good idea on using the wax museum, though."

"But I can get Ladybug!" Marinette groaned.

Chartreux's ears twitched with irritation as he glared at her. "Ladybug's going to get here on her own, you don't need to-" Marinette saw one ear rotate backward and Chartreux ran, pulling Marinette along with him after taking her hand. The twin gorgons burst into the museum and started using their beams on the wax figures. They were temporarily confused when no one turned into stone.

Once they got their bearings, the twin gorgons ran in the same direction they saw Chartreux and Marinette run. The hero and civilian pair had hidden behind a relatively large dupe of Horrificator and were able to sneak past the Madusas into a staff locker room. "Well, I think I can hide here, at least," Marinette sighed.

"Can't say it's too comfortable, but it's better than nothing," Chartreux reluctantly agreed, opening a large locker for Marinette. "Sorry. I guess I should have taken you home first." Both Marinette and Chartreux heard one of the Madusas walk closer and try to open the door. Marinette made a split second decision and pulled Chartreux in the locker with her and closed it behind them.

The Madusa broke down the door and prowled in, scanning the room. She sniffed, annoyed at finding nothing of value, and left. When Chartreux heard the gorgon's footsteps fade away he burst out of the locker, red-faced and stammering out a hasty "S-sorry!"

He was about a full head taller than she was, so when they crammed into the locker he ended up occupying way more of her personal space than either of them expected. He pressed himself into the furthest corner away from her but his head still ended up on her shoulder and his arm braced against her and her legs in between his. He kept thinking how he was getting kind of hungry because she smelled like freshly baked bread and warm apple pie and man was he ever getting distracted by the fact that Marinette Dupain-Cheng had pulled him in by the collar and now her hands were in his hair because they had nowhere else to go?

He stayed hidden with Marinette for several long seconds after the Madusa had left, ostensibly to make sure the akuma/sentimonster was far enough away, but maybe some part of him just kinda liked being held by Marinette.

"I'm sorry! I just pulled you in i-i-it was my fault so, so sorry," Marinette apologized back, also pretty embarrassed but fighting back a smirk at finding Chat!Luka so flustered. "I'll s-stay here and be out of your way, promise!"

Chartreux blew out a breath, composing himself, and nodded. "Stay safe. I mean it, Marinette, no heroics. That's my job."

She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "Good luck," she giggled, closing the locker. Chartreux went red again, slightly taken aback, but then he chuckled to himself and turned to leave.

"Marinette, you're teasing the poor boy," Tikki giggled.

"I think we're both enjoying it," Marinette giggled back. "Are you ready, Tikki?" The little kwami nodded. "Alright, Spots On!"

Ladybug stepped out of the locker and called her Lucky Charm. She got a pack of fridge magnet alphabet letters? What was she going to do with that?

Composition

It was actually a pretty straightforward plan. Chartreux and Ladybug ran in opposite directions and the twin gorgons split up to chase the both of them. The heroes lead them into the same room at opposite ends, Ladybug tied them up together with her yoyo, Chartreux Cataclysm'd the floor and the Madusas got caught hanging upside down. The magnets caught the Madusa's dislodged necklace and pen before they fell into the molten hot wax.

Amok and akuma were dealt with, the akuma victim reassured, and the Miraculous Ladybugs deployed. The heroes bumped fists and called out "Bien Joué!"

Ladybug's earrings beeped and Chartreux stopped her from running off. "Wait! Plagg said I needed to give you the ring."

"Plagg said what?!"

Chartreux raised an eyebrow. "I'm supposed to give you Chat Noir's ring back."

"I… I-I don't know who Chat Noir is, actually," Ladybug laughed uneasily. "I'm not sure who to give it back to! How did you get the ring?"

"Really?" Both of Luka's eyebrows rose. "It… just dropped into my lap. What should I do?"

Ladybug's earrings beeped again. "Umm. I-I guess keep it? For now? I'll ask my kwami what I should do. Anyway, thank you for your help! I gotta run!"

⁂

Marinette yelped as Chartreux opened the locker she was hiding in. "Wow," he laughed. "You actually stayed safe."

"I-is it over?" Marinette asked.

"Yeah. I wanted to make sure you were alright." Chartreux extended a hand and helped Marinette get out of the locker and onto her feet. "I also said I was going to personally drop you off at home."

"You did!" Marinette giggled. "That would be great!"

⁂

Chartreux landed softly on Marinette's balcony with her in a bridal carry.

"You definitely know who I am because I definitely didn't tell you where my house is, and I still don't have your name," Marinette laughed.

Chartreux hummed. "I don't know if I'll be coming back as a hero so I don't think it matters if you know my name. I promise I am a friend though." He let Marinette down and she kissed him on the cheek. "Careful, you don't know if Alya's nearby taking pictures and you don't want to give the boy you like the wrong idea."

Marinette blinked. "The boy I like?"

"Adri-" "Luka?" Chat!Luka and Marinette said respectively, at the same time.

Chartreux was taken aback and flushed. "I think I'm giving him the right idea," Marinette giggled. "Your ring is beeping, by the way."

"Oh. Really? I mean. Right. Thanks. I'm… gonna go." He turned away awkwardly, still flushed.

"Chartreux?" Chat!Luka spun back in surprise. Marinette went up on her toes and kissed him. "Thanks for helping out today. You did a great job."

⁂

Chartreux detransformed in a quiet alleyway and Luka made his way home in a daze. Luka barely heard Plagg complain the lack of camembert and about how the Guardian should know who Chat Noir was and how the kwami apparently needed to do things himself and to haul the ring back across all of Paris and how much of a pain it was.

Luka got back onto the houseboat and went to his room and sat on his bed. Plagg had noticed that the boy was more or less unresponsive and sighed, deciding to hide in Luka's jacket pocket. Luka finally shook his head to get his bearings and looked around him, pulling out a blank sheet of music staff paper.

He was pretty sure Marinette knew he was Chartreux. He was pretty sure Marinette just let him know she was Ladybug.

He had some brand new music to compose.

Noir & Gris

"I hear that you're a big fan of Chat Gris," Adrien smirked as he leaned into his right hand, silver ring glinting off the sunlight that streamed into their classroom. "You and the Chat Noir from last week had a moment it seems!" He gave Marinette a sly wink.

"A-Adrien!" Marinette squeaked, turning red. "Shhh!!!" Marinette had already had to tamp down all the rumors around her and "Chat Gris" as they called him. Alya had been nearby and she did take pictures and of course one of the pictures was of Marinette when she kissed Chat!Luka. (How did that girl even get that angle?!) Alya thankfully had only shared it with Marinette… and then the rest of the girls, after Marinette had been too embarrassed to deny anything about it.

"I think you may be a cat person after all, Marinette," Adrien laughed.

"How did you find out?!" Marinette stage-whispered. "Alya promised not to show anyone else!"

"It wasn't Alya, I promise. I had my very own informant. But interesting detail, you have a picture?"

"I'm sure not showing you!" Marinette huffed.

"That's alright!" Adrien laughed. "Well, since you seemed to be so familiar with Chat Gris and Chat Noir, I was wondering what you thought of Gris versus Noir?" Adrien had leaned in further, intensely focused on Marinette.

Marinette blinked at him. "Uh… they were both… good."

"Really? You didn't miss anything about Chat Noir?"

"Well, I mean, both Chats were very… nice. They saved me from the akumas. I guess Chat Noir is… um. More of a jokester?"

"I'm hearing Chat Noir is more fun," Adrien smiled. "But go on."

"You have some weird selective hearing there," Marinette said. "Anyway I mean, I don't really have anything else to say?"

"Aww, too bad. I'm jealous, Marinette. You got to hang out with two different versions of the same hero!" And kissed both, but she wasn't going to mention that.

"Getting caught up in the akuma attacks is not something I'd call ‘hanging out', Adrien." Marinette rolled her eyes. "But they were cool."

"Do you think you'd wanna see Chat Gris again? Instead of Chat Noir?" Adrien asked, way softer than he spoke before.

"Hmm, I like Chat Noir. I think Chat Noir is great at being Chat Noir. Ladybug and Paris would miss him terribly if he wasn't going to show up anymore. I liked Gris and he helped everyone out really well, but I think Chat Noir is who Paris loves."

Adrien blushed. "Well, it's nice of you to say that. Chat Noir seems like a great guy, whoever he is under the mask."

Marinette smiled. "I think so too."

[otonymous]

Moving Violation (MLQC Shaw - NSFW)

Description: Public transportation gets a lot more exciting when a gorgeous stranger decides to give you a hand 😉 Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised.  SPOILER for chapter 17-1 only.  Trigger warning(s): public fingering Word Count: 1698 words (~8 mins of shameless smut) AO3: read here Author’s Notes:   This story contains SPOILERS for chapter 17-1 ONLY.  If you don’t want to be spoiled at all, now would be a good time to stop reading 😆

As soon as this guy made an appearance in the game, you know I had to write for him.  Although I don’t even know his name, I DO know he’s hot AF LOL.  The events in this story are based on chapter 17-1; I just added my own smutty take on things.  Please note the potential trigger warning in the tags above, and happy reading! 🥰

Nb) Lyrics taken from Green Day's "Holiday" are marked with an asterisk. (song written by Michael Pritchard / Frank Wright / Billie Joe Armstrong. © Warner Chappell Music, Inc)

All characters & Mr Love: Queen’s Choice owned by Elex

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

Clang.

The metal links of a wallet chain hit the steel trim of the seat beside yours, the sound so jarring it immediately pulled you from your thoughts.  Turning your gaze from the window, your senses are assailed:  

Hair that fell in devil-may-care directions over features all at once delicate and masculine — lavender grey, like the colour of a gathering storm, accentuated with silver like streaks of lightning blazing across an unsettled sky.

Metal studs embellishing a black leather jacket brushing against your arm, cool and sharp even through the sleeve of your cardigan, making you press closer to the side of the bus on instinct.

A hint of cinnamon, spicy and sweet each time the bubble in his mouth deflated with an audible pop, only to reemerge after a few subtle movements of a defined jaw and the push of his tongue through a thin, pink membrane.

And although the vehicle lurched forward each time the lead-footed driver stepped on the gas, the young man managed to keep his skateboard balanced against the back of the seat in front, the underside of its deck covered in a dizzying array of colourful but faded decals.  Worn and treasured, like the mp4 player he suddenly produced from the pocket of his jacket, elegantly long digits in fingerless leather gloves fiddling with dials whose details had rubbed off long ago.

The stranger leans back in his seat, long legs spreading wide until one brushes the hem of your skirt…waves of heat emanating from the skin of his knee beneath ripped denim to send tingles up the bare flesh of your thigh.

Brows furrowed, you stare sharply in his direction from the corner of your eye.  You had done your best to ignore that twinge of annoyance when he first chose to sit next to you on an otherwise empty bus.  Brushed it off when it grew with the knock of his shoulder into yours.  But the continued rubbing of his knee against your thigh — each bump of the rough ride sending it higher up your leg — was something you found unsettling.  And stimulating.

Nonplussed by your reaction to the invasion of personal space, the stranger fits buds into ears boasting several piercings each, thumb tapping the scratched up player until all you could hear was the tinny refrain of Green Day rocking at insanely high volume over his headphones:

“I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies This is the dawning of the rest of our lives On holiday…”*

Suddenly, perfect eyebrows arch over amber eyes that train on yours to transform your annoyance into surprise.  He leisurely looks you up and down, tongue sweeping over the edges of white teeth as he does…slow, as if considering some complicated calculation.  Then, as the corners of his lips pull up into a devastatingly handsome smirk, you are similarly devastated to find yourself incredibly turned on by a man you knew absolutely nothing about.  

Removing an earbud, the beautiful stranger slides up even closer to whisper in your ear, “Wanna listen?”

His voice is deep and playful, the heat of his breath electric on your skin and charged with an eroticism that effectively shuts down any protests you may have had.  So you let him carefully position the bud in your ear, feeling goosebumps bloom wherever he touched, guitar riffs accompanying fingertips that drag from your lobe to your neck, traversing your shoulder and down your arm…before finally coming to rest on the top of your thigh.

Nipples hardening beneath the lace cups of your bra, you tense at the embarrassing possibility of your arousal being on full display through the thin front of your blouse.  He slides his arm around your shoulder in response, pulling you flush against his side as the undertones of that husky voice switch from teasing to a soothing coo:

“Baby, relax.  Just focus on the music, yeah?”

The hand on your leg begins to move, inching up your skirt, fingers tracing circles as they caress the skin of your inner thigh — so sensitive he grinned to watch you twitch at the sensation of his nails grazing flesh as he sought the moist warmth in the space between.

Soft lips smooth across the line of your jaw, the stranger's voice dropping even lower, as if revealing some illicit secret: “Focus on how good my fingers will make you feel.”

That beautiful face nuzzles into the nape of your neck, and you feel his chest expand against your arm when he breathes in deep — his exhalation masking the gasp you failed to contain when the tip of his finger made its first brush across your clit, swollen beneath a layer of silk.

Already impossibly hot, you glance at your surroundings once more to ensure you were the only two passengers on the bus during the early morning commute.  You wondered if the driver heard your shuddering pants as the young man played with your pussy over your panties, wondered if he could smell the heady musk of arousal that was surely suffusing the immediate vicinity.

Wondered if he noticed the spread of your legs from that distance in the rear view mirror, growing wider in response to the lust that glazed over amber eyes to hold you captive.

Suddenly, the stranger retracts his large hand, its absence leaving the space between your legs cool and wanting.  Past the point of caring about masking your desperation, you implore the stranger with a look that dripped with need.  He smirks, eyes crinkling with mischief as he winks at you before proceeding to lick his digits — pink tongue swirling about the index…middle…then ring finger in excruciatingly slow turn.

To your relief, he brings his hand down once more.  But this time, your panties are roughly pulled aside before you feel those spit-moistened fingers sliding along your folds and glancing at your clit…exploring bare flesh.  At first contact, you hear the breath hitch in his throat.  Hear the thick arousal even he couldn’t hide behind teasing banter when he says, “Looks like I didn’t need to lube up my fingers after all.  Guess this excites you more than you let on.”

You couldn’t even argue, nor did you want to.  Lips parting as shaky lungs drew in much needed air, your head falls back, the black cord of your shared headphones the only thing grounding you to reality when it pulls taut against your movement.  A reminder that although his fingers sent you to the heights of ecstasy with the way they plunged in and out of your pussy — almost frictionless with how turned-on you were — you still had your skirt bunched up and legs spread wide on a public bus in broad daylight, a complete stranger’s talented fingers fucking you so hard and fast your thighs trembled and your underwear became a soaking mess, absorbing slick moisture that dripped in copious amounts.

“This is the dawning of the rest of our lives...”*

The music crescendoed just as the tension in your body swelled to breaking point, the thumb rubbing circles about your clit relentless like the fingers diving deep to push you over the edge of desire.

All of a sudden, the bus lurches as the driver slams on the brakes.  Momentum continuing to drive your body forward like a rag doll, the muscular arm around you tenses to keep you from smashing face first into the seat in front.  But the driver’s careless technique had another unintended consequence: the young man’s fingers drove even deeper inside you at just the right angle to make you fall apart completely.  Spasming within his embrace, you thought nothing of burying your face into his chest to bite at his collarbone through his shirt, trying to muffle your screams.

“Sorry about that!  Everyone ok back there?"  Still descending from a higher plane of bliss, the driver’s voice seems so far removed.

“Yeah man, just take it easy next time," the stranger shouts back, fingers leaving a wet trail along the inside of your thigh as he finally pulls out from your trembling body.

He makes a show of examining his fingers, slick under the warm rays of sunlight filtering in through the window behind you.  But nothing compared to the heat in your cheeks when he traced his lips with the tip of his index, the shiny coat of arousal accentuating pink flesh before his tongue swept out to savour every last drop.

And as the bus pulls up to the next stop — much more smoothly this time around — the handsome stranger leans in close, removing the headphone from your ear before he says,

“Sweet, just the way I like it.  Be seein’ you around."

Readjusting his earbuds, he tucks his skateboard under one arm, amber eye winking at you beneath lavender grey strands one last time before he exits, the sound of his skateboard hitting the pavement the last thing you hear before the pneumatic doors shut and you slump back in your seat.

You didn’t even know his name.

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

Guess what?  We STILL don’t know his name in the English server LOL!  As always, thanks for reading and check out more of my work here! 📚

[your-rose-highness]

Tell me What is Love (ch- 11)

Pairing- Baekhyun x OC (special appearance- JB of GOT7)

Chapter 11

"Whatever it may be, I'm not letting you take my daughter away. The world doesn't always revolve around you, Taeyeon. Sarang is my life and she's the only reason I'm still talking to you calmly. I won't have you play games with my daughter." Baekhyun snarled at her.

"How are you going to take care of her?", She demanded.

"When did you ever take care of her? Do you call leaving your child with random people as you go out to parties taking care of her? People already know you have a daughter then why pretend? Have you ever cooked her a meal? Cmon Tae, we'll be here all night if I begin listing your history..", he scoffed as he glared at her.

"What do you want?", Taeyeon asked, folding her hands across her chest.

"I want equal rights. I want to be able to see my daughter whenever I wish to and any decisions about her will be done mutually. If you ever do them on your own accord, I'll press charges.", Baekhyun began stating. Taeyeon sported her signature poker face that he had found so endearing years ago. Now, it seemed lifeless and terrifying.

"Fine.", She blankly said after pondering over his words for a minute, leaving him seated in the living room.

She picked up Sarang from her playroom, to put her to sleep. Baekhyun watched her move and smiled when Sarang waved both her hands at him as she was being carried away to her room. He sighed deeply in the empty room and scrolled through the texts on his phone. His headache that persisted its way through a week was giving him a dull throb. Oh, how he missed his mother’s kimchi stew- but she was too far away. He picked up his phone again, unconsciously hovering over Hye hee’s contact, somehow he couldn't get himself to dial her number. Exhausted with the overly long day, he resorted to bed, her voice in his head being a lullaby.

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Hye Hee woke up feeling anxious. She went through her phone for any important calls, her work calendar for any missed work meetings, replayed her phone conversations with Jaebeom the past night for clues, but alas. Feeling uneasy, she dragged herself through the day wondering what had triggered her anxiety suddenly. That morning she decided to skip going to work with jaebeom and decided to get her favorite drink- pomegranate tea, or specifically, Minseok’s pomegranate tea. The other cafes just never got it right up her alley. The familiar beaming smile greeted her as she entered the tiny cafe.

“Well, hello, look who’s here this fine morning. I thought you’ll never be back after this new job.”, Minseok chimed in, smiling ear to ear.

“You wish, Minseok. You’re never getting rid of me.”, she answered in a gleeful voice, walking to her favorite spot, which, thank god, was empty even though the cafe was a little busier than she had seen before.

It was only natural for him to know what she would have and quickly strode to her with the pink tea (extra-large, only for special customers), taking the seat opposite hers.

“The cafe has grown.”, she scanned taking a sip.

“Yeah. there are a few more regulars now. Not as regular as you were, but you know, weekends, a few weekdays, some come in for the morning coffees, it’s doing well for now. God knows I needed this, with you gone, I’d have to shut this down.”, he laughed.

“Oh shut up, I told you, it’ll only be a while until women find how good food here tastes and hello”, she paused, waving her hands at him, “the handsome barista.” Minseok rolled his eyes at her and she continued, “cmon! I told you, all women have had this ‘hot barista’ scenario in their head, and you are a clear manifestation… even now those college girls there are wondering and cursing me under their breath.”

Minseok swiftly looked at them, at which they quickly turned away from him.

“Stop it. Don't make this awkward for me.”

“Alright. Spill the tea, sir. What’s been going on?”, she asked, taking a sip.

“You tell me. What the hell happened after all those sasaengs at your door? Does Baekhyun know?”

"He's just… I don't know what he's up to… he shows up at my apartment unannounced one minute and then suddenly he's off the radar, no calls, no texts, calls don't go through to him… I'm confused.", She sighed.

"Do you still love him?", Minseok asks, tilting his head in pity.

"Don't be silly, he's married…"

Minseok shrugged his shoulders in response, "Doesn't change feelings…"

"I'm dating, though." She said, almost proud.

Eyes growing bigger, Minseok chuckled, "oh? You are! And didn't tell me? Must say, I'm a little hurt."

"It's Jane's brother.", She whispered coming closer to him.

"What the hell went on in these few months that you didn't come to the cafe? And, Jane had a brother?"

"Jaebeom, and yes. I have a picture."

Minseok looked at it blankly, "Is this a new coping mechanism?"

"What?"

"Do you love him?"

"Cmon Minseok, we've hardly dated for two months. Press the brakes, will you?", She scoffed.

"Alright. Alright. I got it. I'm happy for you." He muttered in an unbothered tone.

Hye hee stared at him at a loss of words.

"Wow do men just react this way or am I missing something?"

He laughed at her expression, "I just hope you don't hurt yourself."

"Hey, you were the one preaching, asking me to move on from Baekhyun a year ago…", she whimpered. " And now when I'm dating this amazing guy, suddenly you're being unsupportive."

"I'm not being unsupportive. I'm just concerned. I'm happy for you, Hye hee."

"No. You're not.", She picked up the tea and left without saying goodbye to Minseok. A rather rare feat. Minseok had always been a safe space for her to open up. They never argued, occasionally getting on each others' nerves for like one hour, that seemed way too long for them.

She reaches office 10 minutes later than expected and her supervisor shot her the 'you're late again this week' look regardless of her never being late. Finding Jaebeom's seat empty, she scanned the office floor for him. It was so hard to lose him with the long hair now, he stuck out as the odd, mysteriously handsome guy at the office (or that's what she felt). Standing with a few colleagues, he was hunched over his laptop in the corner. Feeling bolder than usual, she walked to the gathering, standing beside Jaebeom's chair pretending to look at what they were working on. 

"Morning guys, what is going on here.", She greeted. Taken aback by her voice, Jaebeom quickly turned in her direction, trying to stifle the smile. His eyes dropped to the summery dress she had worn that day to make herself feel better and his ears instantly grew red. It was so easy to read this man, Hye hee thought.

Pretending to look at the same edits on his screen, she playfully touched his neck, softly, wallowing in the victory that she could see him take a nervous gulp.

Successful in her little adventure, she left him explaining the edits, flustered by her actions. 

“I don't think it was appropriate what you did today, hye hee.”, Jaebeom said in his signature ‘i’m older than you’ voice.

“What do you mean?”, she laughed as they walked to his car.

“We should keep things professional when at work.”, he said blankly.

Stopping in her tracks she stared at him, making him stop as he tried to open the car door for her.

“I wasn't being unprofessional. We are dating, and no one even saw.”, she said hurt.

When he didn't reply, she continued, “and it won't be long before they find out that we’re going out.”

“Why do we have to tell at the office that we’re dating? I’d like to keep that part of my life private, don’t you want that?”

“I don't mind letting people know that we are a couple. There's no policy stating that employees can’t date each other. What are you so afraid about?”, she accused.

“Look, babe…”

“Don't ‘babe’ me if you're so embarrassed about dating me, Jaebeom.”

“See, now you're just getting upset. Let’s get in the car, it's quite chilly out here.”

Scoffing, she muttered, “either that or you’re worried that someone from the office will see us bickering.”

“I don't understand why the office needs to know! That’s it. Get in the car, hye hee.”

“What about that day in the coffee room? That didn't seem ‘professional’ to me at all.”

“There were the two of us in there.”, he explained.

hye hee shivered as a whiff of cold breeze hit her bare legs.

“You're cold. Please, get in.”, jaebeom half begged her.

“You go ahead. I have errands to run.”, she stiffly walked out.

Letting out a sigh, he held her hand, “hye hee, let me drop you home.”

“I have to get groceries, you go ahead. I need to see a friend too. Go home, it’s fine.”

Leaving him confused, Hye hee took the bus close to the cafe once again. It’s such a bad day, everyone was getting on her nerves. Standing out of the cafe, she watched Minseok being busy with orders. As the little doorbell tingled, announcing her arrival, Minseok sorrily looked at her, glad that she came back.

She stood at the counter watching him make the pineapple ade.

“Go sit down, I’ll be with you in a minute.”

“I’m checking the new additions to the menu.”

“Oh yeah, I think the blue chocolate is something up your alley.”, he smirked.

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

“I didn't mean that. I’d not want you to move on Hye hee. The only reason I ask you is that you are still harboring feelings for him, and the worse thing is he does too.”

“How do you know?”, she asked, genuinely curious.

“He was here, two days ago. I recognize him now, cause he dresses up like a ghost…"

"What! No way. Baekhyun looks good in those black outfits. Have you seen him properly? He's gorgeous."

“He was here, looking for you, I suppose.”

“Why would he do that, he has my number and he knows where I live.”

“All i’m saying is, call him, will you?”

“I did! It doesn't go through him anymore. Maybe he changed his number.”

“The dude always looks like someone punched him in the alley….”

“I know what you mean… but, he’s happy.”, she assured herself more than minseok.

He gave her a half-hearted smile, while hye hee submerged herself into another round of guilt-tripping. Was she being a bad best friend? Yes, they dated. Yes, now he’s married and has an adorable daughter but that doesn't mean they needed to stop being friends. He was someone so precious to her.

She called him all the way home. Frustrated, she wanted to dial Suho’s number but after what happened that day, she was terrified. Suho had never seemed so scary. She scrolled to find Jongin’s number and hesitantly rang it up.

“Hello?”, a groggy voiced answered.

“Jongin? I’m hye hee, Baekhyun’s girl...I mean, friend. Do you remember me?”, she hoped he did.

“Hye hee?....”

The phone was snatched away from Jongin.

“hye hee? Are you alright?”, Baekhyun’s clear as a light voice came through.

“I am, dork. But where the hell are you? Why is your phone unavailable all the time?”, she half yelled into the phone.

“Umm... there has been a problem. I’ll… I’ll tell you when we meet. I’ll visit you soon.”

“I’m not at my old apartment. I live with Jane now.”, she explained, giving him her address.

“Are you unwell, Byun?”

Her voice made him smile, “Thank you for calling, Hye hee. I swear, I’m fine. I miss you and will see you soon. I don't know when. But ill come by.”

Talking to Baekhyun made her feel a thousand times better. Only one other problem was left- Jaebeom.

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"Hi", a tired voice heard from the other end.

"Hello, Jaebeom.", She meekly replied.

"Didn't go to bed yet?"

"No. I'm not sleepy."

"Mind if I came over?"

"Now?", She peeped at the clock in the living room. It was 1.31 AM 

( author note: Aghase!!!!)

"Yeah. Let's just talk? I need to see you."

She had just gotten her make-up off an hour ago, and now was digging through her vanity adding some color. Jaebeom wouldn't have any trouble, of course, he would effortlessly look great. Contemplating, she decided to wear her new pajamas, keeping her eye on the clock ticking. She paced in the living room when her phone vibrated. Jaebeom.

"Hello.", She tried to say calmly.

"Hi, can you come downstairs?"

"You know the apartment code."

"Yes", she sensed a smile in his voice, "I think it's better if you'd come down, Hye hee."

He was always so mysterious. Treating her like a misbehaving child. Checking her appearance one last time, she skipped downstairs. There he was, coolly standing against his car, looking at his phone. It was a scene straight up from a drama.

He found her soon by the door and flashed a kind smile.

"Hey.", He softly said, looking into her eyes.

"You can come upstairs, you know."

"I thought it would be better if we met out here since you were quite a bit mad at me today."

Ugh, again the misbehaving child feeling.

"I'm sorry, I hurt your feelings.", He whispered.

"It's alright. I just felt you were ashamed of dating me."

"No. Cmon. I would never do that. Also, do you know how many guys at the office already have a crush on you? It's rare to have a cute writer in this job.", He chuckled.

He stretched out his arms a little later. Giving her the cutest look ever.

"Hug? I've missed you terribly in these few hours."

She smiled immediately and let herself embrace him. The warmth of his body, calmed her mind, with his arms wrapped around her. Her eyes closed to take at the moment. It was almost perfect. Almost. Something still seemed to bother her. The same thing that had woken up with her that morning. But she decided to shun it away and drown herself in Jaebeom for now.

"I think I'm falling in love with you.", She heard Jaebeom through his chest, where her head lay.

She looked up at him and met the most loving eyes. His eyes were always very expressive of how he had felt. Whether anger or love, Jaebeom's eyes would always give away. She tightened her grip on him, as though afraid this moment would give itself away soon.

His fingers slowly brushed her hair away from her face, softly stroking her cheek, before saying, "and I don't regret one bit."

Their lips met and it felt as though the world stood still. His lips hovered over hers softly before kissing her passionately. How soft his lips were, how lovely they felt against hers. He could taste her strawberry Chapstick and it only intensified what he felt for her. Hye hee feet his stubble on her cheek and she loved it. The two people in love, finding a home in each other’s embrace, their lips, trying to convey what words would fall short to define. In love. Love conquers all.

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Baekhyun wondered how her voice always made everything seem less of trouble every time. Ever since Hye hee called looking for him, he found strength that he believed he had not in him any longer. Finishing work he drove home, only something wasn't right. He had to see her. He had to hear her voice. He smiled to himself that she was still the one in his heart. All this time, he was looking in the wrong places. He drove out of the garage, hopeful that she'd be awake at this ungodly hour. But nothing would have stopped him. Taking turns into small alleys, he finally found the street to Jane's building. Finding someone standing outside, he decided to call her first.

Ah, If only he knew that what he was to see would shred him into pieces. His fingers stopped midway when he saw her make her way out to meet this man. He nervously gulped sitting in the darkness, as the spectacle unfolded in front of him. Watching them and then kiss, left him agape. Baekhyun's heart pounded against his chest, and he didn't know why. A tear escaped him, and he felt a hollow build inside his chest, as though he was empty. His head told him he had to run, but his eyes were glued to the fire. 

His rational self snapped in and he quickly started the car to drive away. Vision getting blurry from stinging eyes full of tears, he felt anger bubbling inside him. How could she do that to him? After she knew what he had been going through? Hye hee was equally evil just like everyone else in his life. The next minute he left despair from the hollow in his chest, aching from the emptiness that she had left. 

 Don't we all hate it when our inner selves jump in to argue at times like these? A calm yet pitiful voice rose from within himself, trying to reason with him. All he wanted to feel pain and blame, but this calm voice sat next to him, unbothered of his suffering.

"She was never yours. She stopped being yours the minute she left crying."

-------

[bibliocratic]

s1 martin and tim go drinking, mlm/mlm solidarity

(some cws on this one, check the tags)

“Looks like it's up to us to paint the town then, Martin!”

“Huh?” Martin glances up, not really in the mood for Tim's hi-jinks. He doesn't want to admit he's been frowning over this statement follow-up for about forty minutes, because Jon sent it back, covered in corrections, again, and it's getting on late on a Friday evening and Martin's brain's decided to clock out from the working week.  If Tim's been talking, Martin's not heard a word.

Tim playfully throws a rubber-band ball over to him. Martin fumbles but manages to catch it.

“Sasha's got 'plans'” Tim makes finger quotes, and gives Martin a wink like he's in on a joke. “And it's not like Jon's going to come out with us. So it's you and me buddy! Two stunning single bachelors, us against the world!”

Tim grins at the idea, and Martin automatically smiles back, warmed by Tim wanting to spend actual time with him.

“O-ok!” he says, bolstered by Tim's enthusiasm. “That's... yeah, great, cool! Where are we going?”

He hasn't been out in ages. He's struggling to remember when he last did.

“Was thinking some food first,” Tim replies, catching with ease when Martin lobs the ball back. He throws it from hand to hand thoughtfully. His eyes light up as he snags on a thought. “Let's make a night of it! Head into Soho, what d'you reckon. Bit of a walk, but it'll be a nice night for it. I'll take you to G-A-Y, see if we can't set you up with some strapping lad who finds Star Wars t-shirts sexy.”

Martin's hands suddenly twitch like a grave spasm.

“I – ah, I'm s-sorry. I – er. What?”

Tim leans back on his chair, disregarding both gravity and Martin's panicked expression that's slammed the brakes down on his previous bubbling excitement.

“I know, can get packed on a Friday. If it's too busy, we'll try for the Admiral Duncan or somewhere else. The bartender at Ku Bar is really fit, might even be your type, so we could head over there...”

“I – ” There's a lot of words in Martin's throat, and he's not sure how to work with the stiff material they're formed of, making them into something sensible. “I... I've... I mean...”

It's not that he's ashamed. It's not the word he'd use anyway, even if there's defensiveness in his posture, insecurity in his constant omission, and he's strung up in a reaction that scratches up him like fight or flight. He's wondering, despairingly, does everyone know?

Tim must notice something wrong, because he's knocking the legs of his chair back onto the ground. Frowning and leaning forward, putting the ball down on his desk.

“We don't have to,” he says, holding up his hands as though backtracking. “If you've got some secret fella on the go, hey, you're allowed to keep the mystery man a secret. Just thought it might be a good night out, that's all.”

“I don't... I don't have a secret....” Martin can't even say the word, splutters and swallows it bitterly. “How did you...?” he stops again, miserable and irate at his own inability, embarrassed that he's nearly thirty and this is so hard, worrying about what gave him away. He'd been so careful.

“Ah,” Tim's face clears from the clouds of his confusion, and it's abruptly replaced by the weather front of something heavy, a sad kind of comprehension. He adjusts his cap a bit further back from his face. “Let me guess, and tell me if I'm barking up the wrong tree here. You've not been to G-A-Y before.”

Martin gives a little stiff shake of his head.

“You've – and again, I might be wrong – but you've never actually been to a gay bar before.”

Another shake of the head.

“But you like blokes, right?”

Martin's throat is dry. He feels overwhelmingly looked at, and he wants to shrink away, he wants Tim to just shut up, and leave it, and forget they even started this whole thing.

It takes a lot for him to nod.

Tim's expression blooms into a kind-hearted sympathy.

“I'm not going to tell anyone, Martin,” he says, and the air in the room is a little less tight at that earnest promise. “If that's what you're.... No one here would bat an eyelid, but I, I won't say anything that you don't want me to, ok?”

“I don't...” Martin says falteringly, and he fidgets with the stapler on his desk, prods at a biro. “I don't tell people.”

There's a lot in that. Tim knows not to push.

“We don't have to go,” Tim finally replies quietly. “Not if you don't want to. If it's too much...”

“No!” Martin surprises himself with the force of his response, and colours violently, feeling his entire face heat up. “I mean – I – I'd like to. If you – if you still want.”

Tim grins, and his cocksure manner is on display like a theatre curtain lifted. He stands up, doing a stupid little bow like he's trying to make Martin laugh.

“t'would be my honour to lead you astray, Master Blackwood,” he puts on the snobbiest toff voice, and Martin can't help but unwind a little at how daft he sounds, how at ease he looks. It could be, he thinks to himself, maybe it could be this easy.

They get pub-grub in a Wetherspoons near Camden Lock, and they talk about things that aren't work. Films and sport and TV, and it's deliberately breezy and Martin's so appreciative. After a couple of pints, Tim starts teasingly pointing out people around them like he's some sort of cold war spy, asking Martin under his voice to give them a score out of ten – hey, he defends himself when Martin gets flustered and half-heartedly objects, as your wingman I need to know what I'm working with. And there's a giddy delirium to how suddenly all very simple it is to talk about things like this with someone, the cider lubricating his thoughts, his easily tied-up tongue, and soon they're a few pints down, and Martin's snorting a laugh and arguing with Tim about his taste in men, because apparently their opinions and interests vary wildly. The debate only ends when Tim points his fork at him, mock haughtily, replying that at least he's got the common sense to not fancy the boss, and that sends Martin choking on his drink for a good minute, eyes streaming and face burning.

Finally, Tim stands up and claps his hands together as though it's a moment of great grandeur.

“And now!” he declares. “It's time we got this young cub a boyfriend!”

“Would you – Tim! Would you, shush! I'm only a year younger than you, you absolute pillock.”

“No one cares! Best thing about London, Martin, everyone's too wrapped up in their own bollocks to care about ours. Now, are we going or what?”

It's... it's a really good night. They get in easily, and Tim apparently knows the bouncers at the door because he picks up some banter with them easily. Martin looks around at the lights and the people while Tim buys the first round. It's not as scary as he'd imagined. It's, well, it's a normal night club, and it's not late enough to be packed, so people are milling around in groups, drinking, half-dancing to Lady Gaga. The floor is sticky with spilled drink and the music is a little too loud for conversation to be heard, but Martin finds his feet tapping along to the music regardless, and when Tim hands him his plastic glass and holds his own drink up for a cheers, Martin's smile is wide and genuine, the knotted sensation in his chest gone slack.

He'd entertained the worry that Tim might ditch him as soon as he got a hint of attention. Tim certainly gets appraising looks and a few flirty glances which he coquettishly returns, but he sticks to Martin's side, pulling him onto the dance floor and woot-ing with delight when a song comes on that he likes.

They buy more drinks. Martin's round, then Tim's round, and then it's someone's round but Tim's had the grand idea of shots. It must be after midnight, and the music has dissolved into thumping chart-toppers, and Martin is buzzing. Dancing in his own artless way to the music, his shoes stained with some drink he spilt earlier, sing-shouting to the words he knows in the songs. He's danced with people, people who were interested, interested in him, and he hasn't felt the urge to step back, to make sure no-one is watching, to make sure no one gets the wrong idea.

Tim's nudged him forward with a go on Casanova, strut your stuff towards a short blond man, dancing flat-footed and throwing himself into the music, who has been giving Martin impressed, slightly wowed side-eyes all evening, who beams when Martin joins his dance space and draws him into a complicated dance move which Martin stumbles over but tries his best. The man is trying to shout something complimentary in his ear but the music is too loud to hear.

They're both sweaty but the other man is giving him such a look, and Martin feels like an uncorked bottle of champagne, and he finds himself shyly smiling back as the song merges into something louder and more energetic.

He doesn't notice his mobile vibrating. Can't hear it over the music. He pulls his phone out of his pocket almost absent-mindedly, intent on checking the time, figuring he'll have to get the night bus back if they stay here much later, and he blinks as the blurry words and shapes realise themselves into multiple missed calls.

He is suddenly, shockingly sober.

He pushes his way through the dancing throngs, throwing out apologies like scattering seeds, and he clatters back down the stairs, bumping to a few people queueing for the toilers, and then he shoulders his way inexpertly through the downstairs bar and its clusters of people, and then he's out the front door. His breathing is too fast. He's returning the call with a panic, clearing his throat, hoping desperately he doesn't sound too drunk, that he's not slurring his words, because what if something's happened, something bad, and what's his excuse, really. He should have been there, he's just been out, getting pissed, and what's she going to say when she realises....

“Martin?” comes a hollered shout, and Tim's tumbling out of the doors, holding both their jackets and an expression of such concern. “Martin, what...?”

Martin desperately shushes him with an expression.

“Hey,” he croaks down the phone line. “I got your....No, m-my phone was.... No, n-no honestly, it wasn't, I wasn't ignoring....... I-I know, I know, I'm............ yeah........... yeah, I know, but................. Just some people from work, I just lost track of time, I'll.............. I know...... I'll get a taxi, I can be there in...... Ok. I-I know. Sorry, I'll...... Ok. Ok. Bye, mum.”

He ends the call. Rubs at his face. He feels wound up in his chest again.

“I have to go,” he says, and he refuses to meet Tim's eyes. He has the strong suspicion his own eyes are shinier than he wants them to be. “She's not well. She had an episode earlier, and I.... I just need to go. Make sure she's ok.”

“She doesn't know, does she?” Tim's voice is rough from singing, from drinking, but his expression is hard and dark.

“It doesn't matter,” Martin replies shortly.

“Of course it matters!” Tim says, almost with disbelief. “Martin, I know it's your.....  but this isn't, this isn't ok. You can't let people tell you what to do with your life!”

“What are you doing then?” Martin snaps back. Because Christ, he's tired and the night's drawn on too late, and his skin feels sticky, and his mum, she sounded bad, sick under the snapping annoyance at the bother he's caused her yet again. He wasn't there, wasn't there to check up on her, and she'll know he's been drinking and he doesn't need this, not now. He can't do this now.

“That's unfair,” Tim replies curtly. There's something like anger on his face before it dissipates into something Martin can't read. “Martin, you can't keep... one of these days you're going to have to be honest with yourself.”

“You say that like it's easy!” Martin responds, almost enraged, his voice cracking. “I can't be – I can't be like you! I can't – it's all so easy for you, a-and I just... I can't. I'm, I'm sorry. I can't.”

Martin breathes out a tear-stifled breath. He thinks there's a taxi rank a few streets away that he saw on the way over. The lights and loud music are pulsing away, and it's distant, like a bubble he's had to walk away from.

“Thank you for... for trying,” he says hoarsely. “I did.... I had a really nice night, you know.”

Tim pauses and then nods wretchedly, a weight to his shoulders. He walks up to Martin, a little wobbly from the shots, the skin of his exposed arms beginning to get chilly, signposting his intentions so Martin has the chance to move away.

Martin doesn't. Tim's arms come crushing around him, and he slumps into it, full of emotions he doesn't have the ability to name, he doesn't have the bravery to face up to yet.

“We'll do this again sometime, yeah?” Tim mumbles encouragingly into his sweaty hair.

“I'd like that,” Martin replies faintly, before he pulls away, taking his jacket back. Gives Tim a worn-down little wave before he turns away.

The music takes a long time to fade from his ears.

[fiddlepickdouglas]

Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 16 - Be Careful

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, can they bear the news?, 2.2k

@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

WARNINGS: cancer mention

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15

Julie sat beside Luke at the small table they had set up beside Rose’s bed. A stack of photos, glue sticks, stickers, scissors, and tons of colored paper covered the table, as well as another stack of photos sitting within Rose’s reach.

“Oh, look at this picture of Carlos,” Rose said in her raspy voice. She lifted one of him as a chubby two year old wearing a baseball cap that was too big, clapping his hands together.

“Aww,” Julie looked affectionately at the photo, tilting her head.

“He’s a cute kid, Mrs. Molina,” Luke said. He continued cutting music notes out of a sheet of purple paper.

“Thanks for visiting me today,” Rose said. “I heard you and the boys have been busy in the studio?”

Grinning like the goof he was, Luke nodded. Julie couldn’t help suppressing a giggle. Even though she knew he was tired from long hours and he only had a little time to get away, he’d still been all about coming with her to visit her mom this morning. She wasn’t sure he was that interested in scrapbooking, but it was sweet of him to come along.

“Yeah, it’s been so fun,” he was saying. “I don’t know how the guys in production make us sound so good. I mean, we already sound awesome, but they make it just perfect. I feel like I would go out and buy ten copies of the album when it gets out.”

Rose chuckled. “Really? That’s great to hear. I remember with the Petal Pushers, I could’ve spent hours in production, tweaking everything until it was just right. That’s why it almost took us two years to release our debut.”

“Two years?” Luke sat back, letting it sink in.

“I was a bit of a perfectionist; the rest of my band wasn’t so patient. I don’t mind though, I had other things to put my time into.” She gazed fondly at Julie, who looked back with a similar fondness, if not slightly clouded.

She wasn’t responding to treatment anymore. It had just become official last week and Julie wasn’t ready to break the news to Luke or anyone else. There wasn’t anything she could think of that would make it easier, no matter how much she knew she needed to let them know. It just seemed like everyone else was doing so well: the guys were finally moving on up, Flynn was coming out with her own music, and even she had barely finished a successful tour. But this was more than just a wrench in the gears.

In the middle of cutting out a heart, she was too lost in thought and snipped on the end of her thumb.

“Ow!” she cried, immediately sucking on it. “Do we have band aids in here?”

“Oh, sweetie,” her mom said fretfully. “I can’t remember where they are, but let me call the nurse.” She pressed a button on the remote beside her bed. Luke tried to get a look at the cut, but Julie insisted on sucking on it.

Moments later, the same woman Julie had seen before entered the room. Her hair was in a braid today, and Julie tried to smile at the sight while her thumb remained in her mouth.

“Hey, Rose, what’s up?” she asked, appearing surprised to have gotten a call.

“Sorry this isn’t a big emergency,” Rose apologized. “My daughter just cut her thumb and I can’t remember where you put the bandages.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ve got you,” the nurse said, going to a cabinet and pulling out supplies to bandage Julie’s thumb. “Here, let me see it.”

Finally releasing it, Julie held her hand out and let the nurse sit down and get to work cleaning and wrapping it.

“What are we working on here?” the nurse wondered aloud, looking at the table of craft supplies.

“We’re putting together a scrapbook,” Julie told her, knowing she was using the conversation to distract her from the pain. “You know, so we don’t forget the good things.” She got a knowing look from the nurse. Her eyes were soft and full of understanding, and Julie offered her a little smile. “I know I’ve seen you before, but what was your name?”

“It’s Renee,” the nurse said. “I was just realizing that I never properly introduced myself, either.” Closing the band aid around Julie’s finger, she patted her hand and stood up.

“Well, it’s good to see you again. This is Luke, by the way.” Julie pointed toward where he was simply watching them, slightly spaced out. He blinked for a minute before smiling at Renee and nodding.

“Nice to meet you,” he said. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Renee smiled demurely. “Oh, well, I certainly aim for that at the end of the day.”

Luke could only respond with his dorky grin.

“Luke, here, is a musician like Julie,” Rose piped in.

“Is that right?” Renee replied, raising her eyebrows in interest. “Your family seems to attract the most talented company.”

“Oh, well, I’m definitely talented,” Luke said. “But Julie’s the real wrecking ball. It doesn’t surprise me she got to touring before me and my band.”

She rolled her eyes, but Julie enjoyed the compliment. That was pretty modest for him when it came to music.

“Yes, I remember mentioning my niece is a big fan. I have to refrain from telling her you’re related to Rose, otherwise she would ask for a lot of favors.”

“Oh, how old is your niece?” Julie asked.

“She’s thirteen,” Renee said, leaning on her hand. “Just started middle school.”

“Oh, middle school is rough,” Luke murmured.

“She’s definitely having a rough time,” Renee said to all three of them. “But I think your music has made a difference. Her mom might buy her keyboard for Christmas.”

Julie looked back at Luke, who was already beaming at her, and knew what he would say. He didn’t have to, but she could hear his mantra about the importance of music echo in her brain: it’s about connecting with people, making a difference in their day. She turned back to Renee, whose pager was beeping and made her turn to leave.

“Thanks for the bandage, and of course being there for us,” she said.

“You’re welcome. Glad I could see you, too, Julie.”

“I’ll see you later, Renee,” Rose rasped as she disappeared.

“She seems pretty cool,” Luke said, picking up the music note he was still trying to cut out.

“Yeah, I like her,” Julie told him. “She gave me some good advice.”

“I know she kept talking about her niece, but I think you have another big fan,” Rose said.

“Maybe,” Julie shrugged, trying to focus again on the scrapbook.

As she and Luke left the hospital, Julie had to steal a long glance at her mom, now fast asleep. She had to remember the good things, but there were so many questions she felt like she had to answer. Now that she was off tour and back in school, it was only a matter of time before she had to return to the studio. Once that happened, visits like this would be nearly impossible. She felt a hand slip into hers and fingers interlocking, and she looked up at Luke gently nodding at her to move onward. His puppy-like eyes gave her enough courage to go.

“So how long do you have to be in the studio today?” she asked him, forcing her mind to switch gears.

“Uh...till about seven,” Luke said. “We’re mostly working on Lakeside Reflection today.”

“Aww, I love that one,” she melted into his side as they stepped into the elevator.

“I know you do,” he chuckled softly. She continued leaning on him, feeling his thumb rub over the top of her hand like a lullaby. They remained silent the rest of the way down, just enjoying each other’s company. Julie loved Luke’s calm, quiet moments where he didn’t need to use words. Like the way he used music to speak his mind, he could also communicate with the way he held her. He offered the best comfort. Stepping out of the elevator and to the front of the hospital, Julie saw Bobby’s van already waiting.

“Do you need a ride?” Luke asked.

She shook her head. “No, my tía is taking me and Carlos to see a movie. She’ll be here any minute.”

Forever a pleading look in his eyes when they said goodbye, she shook her head and rolled her eyes at him before he could suggest she change her plans. It happened so often now that she’d had to learn how to say no, no matter how hard it was sometimes.

“Okay, fine,” Luke said, the silent argument over. One hand grabbed onto her head as he planted a kiss on her forehead, letting the other slowly slip out of her fingers as he went to climb into the van. Julie waved at all the guys inside as Bobby took off before looking back down at her bandaged thumb. She still couldn’t tell them about her mom.

Tapping his fingers on the seat, Alex nervously fought to decide if he could break the news to Luke and Bobby. Reggie peeked back, giving him an uncertain glance. They hadn’t exactly discussed it or practiced what they’d say to them, but the clock was ticking. Luke and Bobby needed to know what Caleb was really like now. For some odd reason, Alex’s tongue remained on lock for the whole ride, and it seemed to plague Reggie, too. He felt his muscles twitch as they pulled into the parking lot at the studio. Listening to the squeak of Bobby’s brakes, inertia let them all lightly lurch forward before coming to a full stop.

“Guess who me and Reggie ran into last night?” Alex cried out, almost reflexively. All the guys turned back at him.

“Who?” Bobby prompted.

“Willie.”

The two of them stared at him, stunned, as Reggie took in a deep breath. It was hard to tell whether it was relief or something else.

“Reggie, is he okay?” Bobby asked him.

“Actually, yes he is,” Reggie stated solemnly. “I saw Willie too. He’s here in LA.”

Bobby looked at Luke.

“Caleb said he died. There’s no way he could be here.”

“Well, he is,” Alex said firmly. “Flynn can prove it too, we ran into her as well.”

“Alright, that’s good news, but why are you guys telling us now?” Luke queried.

“Because he knows things about Caleb,” Alex said. “Really bad things.”

Luke and Bobby both blinked and then looked at each other. Alex shot a glance over at the door to the studio. He was already afraid to enter. Caleb wasn’t always there, but he always arrived unpredictably.

“Like what things?” Luke asked.

Later that evening, all the guys sat in the garage where they usually practiced. Luke was lying on the couch, despondent as he gazed at the ceiling. Bobby was sprawled on the floor while Reggie had lain sideways across the armchair. Alex paced, occasionally running his hand through his hair.

“Anyone else never want to set foot inside that studio again?” Reggie offered cheerlessly.

“We can’t just quit making a record,” Luke contested.

“Maybe we wouldn’t feel like we want to if we hadn’t jumped the gun and just signed onto the first place that wanted us,” Bobby said. Luke sat up, clearly bothered by those words.

“Dude, what are you saying?”

“Caleb’s a creep,” Reggie supplied. “I don’t know what his game is, but if what Willie says is true, then working with him is a major no go.”

“If?” Alex retorted, stopping to target Reggie. “If we’re gonna trust anyone between the two of them, I would trust Willie. He’s not the one killing people for convenience.”

“Hey,” Bobby interrupted. “You can defend him all you want. We’re not saying we don’t trust him.”

Alex took back to pacing again. Sighing heavily, Luke sat upright on the couch.

“So what, do we just give up?” he demanded. “We didn’t work so hard to get this far just to drop our dream over one shady guy. I mean, what else could he possibly want with us?”

“Look, I don’t know,” Alex said. “But what if it’s not just about us. I mean, thanks to Caleb, Willie can barely remember who he is.” The guys fell silent and serious as that reality sank in. “I mean, he’s not the only one that Caleb has messed with for years, manipulating them into working under him and giving up almost all of their control. Maybe he doesn’t need to get foster kids for it anymore. What if we’re next?”

“So what should we do?” Bobby wondered. “Break the contract and risk losing the rights to all the work we’ve been doing?”

He had a point. Joining Luke on the couch, Alex rested his face in his hands, feeling the frustration seethe out of him.

“No, guys, we need to think about this,” Luke began saying. “I know this is messed up, but I also know that backing out isn’t the right answer. And I know I’m usually not the one to say this stuff but...we need to be careful.”

[justlightlysedated]

breathing through the sutures

Michael has the taste of cheap whiskey and stale beer in his mouth and Alex has blood staining the corner of his mouth from the punch that he’d taken that was meant for Michael.

He’d appeared out of nowhere, angry and righteous in that quiet simmering way that Michael feels like tiny earthquakes in the back of his head, vibrating through his entire skeletal system, feeding into Michael’s mood, which is dangerous, especially with the way Michael is feeling tonight.

Alex had pulled Michael away from the fight that he’s been itching for for what feels like weeks, and drags him around by his collar like a bad puppy, throwing him backwards against the side of his truck and telling him in no uncertain terms, in that absolutely, hot as fuck commanding tone that he has, to get into the truck.

Michael’s brain had taken a couple of minutes to catch up with the reality of the situation, but by then, Alex was already driving.

He sits in the driver’s seat of Michael’s truck, sprawled comfortably like he was made to sit there, like he was created specifically to fit into all of the spaces that Michael considers his.

It was all entirely the exact opposite of what Michael expects Alex to do, that it rankles against his skin, making him feel like he'd been taken apart and put back together wrong because he knows Alex, knows things about him that no one else does, and yet-

After Alex told him that he was reupping, Michael had thought, there it is, finally, the other shoe dropping. Alex was leaving, and Michael had been right. He would always go, there was no point in waiting and hoping, because he would always leave.

And yet-

It was infuriating. Out of all of the times that Michael had wished and hoped and prayed that Alex would change his mind and stay, it had to be this one.

Michael’s truck makes a noise that means it needs to be changed to third gear, even though the truck is automatic, and Alex changes it easily, already knowing what it means because he’s driven Michael’s truck enough times by this point that it’s second nature, and Michael snaps.

"Pull over," he says, and Alex barely passes him a look before he's scoffing.

"If you think that I'm going to let you drive-"

Michael reaches out with one hand and the truck swerves to the side and stops with a lurch.

Alex barely makes a noise in protest.

Michael just turns to face him and Alex is already looking at him, a look on his face like he wants to get this conversation over and done with, so Michael decides to switch gears on him.

"Why are you here?"

Alex furrows his brow, "Because you decided to get into a fight and got yourself kicked out of the Saturn, since you're banned from the Pony after you-"

"I meant, what are you still doing in Roswell?"

Alex raises an eyebrow, "I live here."

Michael makes a low frustrated sound, "You know that's not what I meant."

Alex just exhales and leans back against the seat, "I'm not sure what you want me to say. The base I'm stationed at is here, but most importantly, the base for Project Shepherd is here. Which is the point."

Michael doesn't know how to respond to that, because that's not what he meant either.

Alex just makes a low humming noise like he figured something out, and then scoffs. "The world doesn't revolve around you, Guerin, and mine, specifically doesn't. I'm here because I have to be. Because there are things that I need to do, and the only way that I could accomplish everything that I want, was by reupping. It had nothing to do with you."

"Yeah, I get it," Michael says, turning away from him. "I don't ever enter into the equation when you're making decisions."

Alex makes another scoffing noise. "And what exactly do you want me to say? Something else that you can take and throw in my face the next time you want to fight with someone? No thanks."

Michael doesn't know what to say to that because it's not like Alex isn't wrong, and after a few minutes of silence, Alex starts the truck again and pulls back on to the road.

Michael lets him drive in silence for five minutes before he pulls the truck over again, making Alex make an irritated noise and mutter what sounded like another language under his breath.

“Why are you here?” Michael asks again, and Alex just exhales roughly, letting his head fall back against the seat.

Michael just watches him as he breathes in and then turns to face him, not looking at all surprised to find Michael staring.

“Are you going to keep pulling me over until I tell you?" He asks,  sounding tired and like he already knew the answer.

"Yes," Michael says, and smirks when Alex just shakes his head turning away.

"You're unbelievable," Alex says, sounding like he's actually surprised about the fact.

"You knew that when you dragged me into the truck," Michael points out, and just smiles when Alex turns to glare at him, eyes narrowed, and then turns to look back out of the window, shaking his head.

Michael just sits back and waits, and Alex lets out a breath a few seconds later, turning back to face him.

"Okay," he says and nods his head decisively. "Fine. We'll do this your way then."

He licks his lips and stares at Michael with a look that clearly says, you asked for this.

"I'm here because you're an idiot who can't actually take care of yourself," he tells him matter of factly. "You're a danger to yourself and others, and everyone else may be content to just let you do this thing, because it's a bad coping mechanism that everyone believes is actually part of your personality, but I'm not willing to just let you destroy yourself-"

"No?" Michael asks, interrupting him and making Alex give him an irritated look. "Because that's only your job, I guess?"

Alex exhales roughly and turns away from him, moving his hand over the gear and shifting his feet on the gas, but Michael keeps the truck in place easily.

Alex makes a frustrated noise, hitting the wheel with the heel of his hand and turns back to Michael. "I answered your question, Guerin, what more do you want?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because no one else is going to," Alex says, sounding tired. "Which just leaves me."

Michael decides just to drop the subject for the time being. It's not like Alex is going anywhere, yet.

Alex turns back to the front and pulls the truck back on the road, leaning back and exhaling slowly like he thinks the worst is over.

Michael lets him believe it for all of five minutes before he reaches out and pulls the truck over again.

Alex makes a low sound, and turns to Michael glaring, before the truck tips forward dangerously and then they’re sliding down a steep hill.

“Fuck,” Alex spits out reaching out to wrap both hands around the wheel, turning it sharply and pressing down hard on the brakes, but it barely slows their descent.

Michael reaches out again and there is a loud cracking noise that fills the air as he latches on to the asphalt.

The truck jerks to a stop, and Alex puts it in park and lifts the emergency brake turning the truck off.

Michael makes a low noise, feeling pain spike sharply in his head and then he’s letting go.

The truck lurches forward a little, but not too far.

Once it stops for good, Michael turns to Alex feeling a little bit dizzy, pain sharp and insistent in the pit of his stomach but he has to make sure that Alex is okay first.

Alex turns to him at the same time, and Michael can tell that his hands are shaking.

"Are you okay?" Alex asks before Michael can, something desperate and fraying in his voice.

Michael swallows hard, and just stares as Alex moves forward into his space when Michael doesn't immediately answer, shaky hands fluttering around his head and shoulders like he's afraid to touch Michael without permission.

Michael reaches for his hands and presses them down on his shoulders.

"I'm fine," he says, and Alex exhales roughly, fingers tightening in the fabric of his jacket and then he's shaking Michael.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Alex demands.

Michael opens his mouth but Alex just keeps talking over him.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed? I mean, I knew you were self destructive but this is on a whole other level-"

"It's not like I did it on purpose," Michael snaps, reaching out to push Alex back lightly, but he hangs on even harder, fingers tightening in Michael's shirt.

Alex just keeps talking like he didn't hear him.

"-can't just be so irresponsible, what if they managed to knock you out and you got taken to the hospital-?"

"I had the situation under control," Michael snaps.

Alex glares at him, fingers tightening in his shirt as he pulls him in a little bit closer.

"I'm beginning to question your supposed genius IQ," Alex comments idly.

Michael makes a hurt sound, and Alex exhales roughly, eyes darting to his mouth.

Michael realizes abruptly just how close they are, his fingers tangled in the collar of his shirt, his forearms pressed along Alex's chest, their thighs pressed together, knees pressing almost too hard. If he tilts his head just a little bit, he could brush their noses together. If he pushed in even closer, he would be able to feel Alex's breath on his mouth. And even closer and he could kiss him.

Michael feels warm and dizzy and he licks his suddenly parched mouth, and all he wants is Alex.

He pushes in closer, and Alex inhales sharply, shivering in his hold, lips parting as his eyes flutter shut.

Michael stares at his close lids, pushing in just close enough that their noses brush together, and Alex makes a low noise at the back of his throat.

"Alex," Michael whispers, voice coming out desperate and needy.

Alex inhales a shuddering breath, and he stays pressed close enough that Michael can feel the way that he's trembling, and then his eyes flutter open and they're all Michael can see.

Dark and intense and bright and deep, and Michael feels like Alex is looking right through him, like Alex is looking at all of him, all the jagged messy pieces and then his gaze goes a little soft, a little sweeter, and Michael pushes in even closer and their lips brush, just barely.

Alex’s breath rushes out of him and Michael inhales shakily, fingers tightening on Alex’s collar, and then Alex is shaking his head, and moving back.

Michael makes a low protesting sound and drags his hands to the back of Alex’s neck, “Wait-”

“No,” Alex breathes out and Michael freezes, fingers digging into the back of his neck, eyes wide and on Alex, who is looking at him like he wants nothing more than to kiss him, but is still trying to pull away.

Michael inhales to speak, but Alex continues.

“You said no,” he says, voice quiet and hoarse, a heavy whisper between them. “And I refuse to be another bad habit that you just fall into. I won’t let you make me into that. Not anymore.”

Michael shakes his head, “No, that’s not-”

Michael drags his hands back down to Alex’s collar.

“Alex,” he breathes. “I never asked you for anything.”

Alex licks his lips, “You’re not exactly asking for something right now.”

Alex slides his hands down to Michael’s chest and pushes, not hard enough to actually dislodge Michael, but enough to let him know that he’s not going to budge.

“I want you,” Michael says, with as much sincerity as he can muster in that moment.

Alex huffs out a shaky breath and shakes his head a little, sliding backwards a little, but Michael moves with him, keeping the distance minimal.

Alex shakes his head, and blinks fast a few times, before he closes his eyes and inhales deeply.

When he opens his eyes again, he looks at Michael, and Michael feels trapped in his gaze, hot and heady.

“Okay,” he says, pushing in close, dragging his hands into Michael’s hair and wrapping his fingers around his curls, pressing his nose to Michael’s cheek, lips brushing against the corner of Michael’s mouth, so close and yet so far away.

Michael feels tingles going down the back of his neck, and his lips part on a gasp.

“Say I do kiss you,” he continues. “And we fuck right here, and I give you every single thing that you ask me for, and then what? We wake up in the morning, and you’ll tell me that it was a mistake, that you weren’t thinking, that it’s never going to happen again? Or I just wake up and you’re gone, payback for all the times I did the same to you?”

“Alex, no,” Michael says, shaking his head, fingers clenching and unclenching desperately in the collar of Alex’s shirt, trying to get this back on the track that it had seemed to be heading.

“You told me that I'm not good for you,” Alex continues, knocking the wind out of Michael’s sails and making his eyes go wide, shock making him freeze. “No matter how I feel. This would be a mistake.”

Michael scoffs fingers going tight on Alex’s collar, shaking his head, feeling his cheeks heat up with the sting of rejection.

“Who cares,” Michael says, more callous than he means to be, but enough to get his point across. “When have you ever given a shit about anything else beyond fucking me?”

Alex goes still under his hands, chest unmoving, like he’s stopped breathing, and his eyes are on Michael, wide and confused beyond belief, like he can’t believe that Michael would actually say something like that.

Michael rolls his eyes, and just pushes Alex backwards, finally letting him go. “Like always, everything is on your terms.”

Alex makes a low, disbelieving sound, and Michael just turns towards the front of the truck, avoiding his gaze.

"Ask me when you haven't just spent the entire night getting to the bottom of a bottle," Alex says, and Michael just closes his eyes and shakes his head.

There is a heavy silence for a few minutes before Alex speaks again.

"I get it," he says, sounding a little desolate. "I hurt you one too many times. I never meant to, but it just kept happening."

He breathes in deeply and shakes his head, "Sometimes you terrify me. In the worst way. And I just can't handle it so I walk away, and tell myself that it's for the best. That no one should have the power that you have over me, and then I see you again, and repeat the same cycle."

Michael licks his lips swallowing hard, and he doesn't know what to say to that, so he doesn't say anything, just stares at Alex wishing the right words would appear out of thin air.

Alex leans his head back on his seat, and he sighs long and low, looking like he wants to say something else, but doesn't know how.

"I'm saying no for me too," he says finally, and Michael inhales sharply, air catching painfully in the back of his throat. "I loved you, and I know it might not matter to you now, but I'm not going to let you use that against me."

Michael stares at Alex for a long moment, blinking rapidly, swallowing hard, before he nods his head to himself and looks away.

He hears Alex breathe a little unsteadily before he's getting out of the truck.

Michael inhales deeply, and then turns to see what he's doing. 

Alex is looking to see how far they fell from the road, and he turns back to face Michael.

"Think you can pull the truck out of here?"

"Maybe," Michael says, turning to look out the back window. "But I might need to drink more than the recommended amount of acetone afterwards."

Alex nods his head slowly and gives him a small smile, a little too tremulous to be real, "Then it's a good thing that you have a designated driver."

Michael stares at him for a second, and Alex just lets the smile fall off his face, and he shakes his head, blinking his eyes rapidly and looking away. He moves, walking out of the way and closes the door shut behind himself.

Michael just stares at the spot where he was and wonders if in his quest to try to protect himself and push Alex as far away as possible, if he pushed too far.

He shakes his head and moves to get out of the truck.

It doesn't matter, anyway.

Alex might still be here right now, but it wasn't going to last long, and at least this time when he left he wouldn't be dragging pieces of Michael with him when he went.

[scribbling-stiks]

AAR - III - Close Call

The phone begins ringing again, and Russia jerks out of his thoughts.

'What is that?'

Then the ringing registers and Arizona answers, turning off the radio and connecting to the speaker with the phone.

"Hey, can everyone hear me?" California asks.

Texas gave affirmation, as did others from other cars.

"Okay, so, I think York-y and I figured out what happened. We're pretty sure some official is working as an informant and is tracking purchases from our cards."

"So renting hotel rooms is out of the question," Dixie comments.

"Unless we stock up on cash, yeah," California answers, "and I don't think we should be withdrawing anything right now though. I'm afraid they're right on our tail."

"Well, what should we do? I can't drive constantly," Texas says.

"And I can't sleep in a moving car," New Hamshire complains.

"How much longer can you guys drive?" Colorado asks.

"I can manage, but I'd rather get settled sooner than later," Texas replies.

Several other answers also come in, varying from "I'm fine" to "I'm about to pass out."

Colorado sighs.

"Dixie?"

"Yeah, kiddo?"

"The next road you can turn off onto, take it. It doesn't lead really anywhere, but the end shouldn't be visible from the main road."

"Hold up, how many cars are with us?" Utah asks.

There is a brief pause before Dixie answers, "11, the right number. Why?"

"I was just making sure," Utah replies.

Dixie sighs.

"Don't be scaring me like that," Dixie mutters.

Then a few moments of quiet, the car slows, and it turns down onto a gravel road. Russia hears the stones kicking up onto the underside of the car. Looking out the window, he sees how the trees overtake the sky.

The road winds and rocks loudly clang against the underside of the car.

Finally, they pull over and the overhead light in the car flickers on. America groans.

"Is it safe to get out?" Texas asks after pulling the parking brake.

"Yeah. Nothing here," Massachusetts replies.

"Come on, let's get out and find somewhere to sleep. If there ain't anywhere, we should just stay in the cars."

America gets up and stumbles out. Texas pulls Russia out in a fireman carry. Russia shivers at the winter air. He briefly sees the others begin to dig through the trunk and pull out blankets. The walk down the now narrowing path.

The wind whips by and Russia's shivering gets a little worse.

"Hey, can one of y'all toss a blanket on top of Russia here?" Texas asks.

Someone tucks a blanket around him and the wind feels less harsh.

"Why can't we just stay in the car?" Ontario asks. His siblings chime in with agreement.

"I got a very bad feeling about staying in the cars," Dixie replies begrudgingly.

"That is not a good reason," Quebec complains, her french accent making her nearly unintelligible.

Dixie stops and turns around.

"Please. Y'all have to trust me on this. We can't stay in the cars. We can't," Dixie says, a pleading look in his eyes.

The others look torn.

"Y'all, I think Dixie might be right 'bout this one," South Carolina says.

"Yeah. Let's just see if there's anything to stay in for the night. I ain't sleeping on the floor," Texas says, leaving the "again" unspoken.

There are a few more minutes of walking until they stumble upon an abandoned building. It looks like it used to be a homely one-story cabin. Now, both front windows are broken, and one is boarded up. It looks abandoned, but not unstable. The logs making up the outside walls are thick and dark.

"Hey Coco, wanna help me and New Mex search to make sure there's no one already here?" Texas asks.

Colorado nods and a group of four states walk in, guns out, and clear the house. It takes only a few moments for them to reappear and wave everyone inside. Russia looks around and sees that the cabin only has one room and a curtain that used to be used to divide the space is ripped, and the entire interior is covered in pieces of discarded items.

"Who's keeping watch?" Dixie asks.

"I will," Connecticut volunteers.

A few other states volunteer, and Texas lays Russia down on one of the blankets that had been put on the ground, his back against the wall. America snuggles up next to him, laying in his lap. Once America lies down, the states follow. Before he knew it, Russia finds himself surrounded by a huge group of people shuffling around. A bit of complaining rang out, but it quiets quickly. Surrounded by people, and America tucked under his arm, Russia feels warm.

The younger children try their best to push their way to the center of the group to America. When America was covered, some of them even took places against Russia.

Russia didn't know what to do. He knew there wasn't much to do, with his limited movement, but being surrounded like this, made him feel shielded, almost protected. Although he wanted to be the one doing the protecting, having all these people who seemed to trust him, surrounding him.

He felt less exposed.

Unfortunately, this does not last.

Russia doesn't remember when he'd drifted off, but he woke up to the sound of a muffled walkie talkie and shuffling outside the building.

Even if he could move, he lays frozen in terror.

He stares around and sees that the people who were on watch had drifted off against one of the walls, except for Dixie. Dixie stares up with wide eyes at the window behind Russia's head, in his hands is a shotgun. Dixie meets Russia's eyes and brings a finger to his lips as if to shush him.

"What are we even looking for?" a voice says.

"The people who were in those cars," a second voice replies, a deeper tone than the first.

'Who is that?'

"But how do we even know they're here?"

"This is the direction they left too."

'Oh no. What are they doing here? Are they some of the soldiers that were chasing us? They have to be.'

Russia tries to keep his breathing as calm as he can manage. In through the nose and out through the mouth. He had to keep quiet. He had to.

"Well, what cars were they supposed to be driving anyway?"

"..."

"You're no help."

"Well, the cars are empty. I opened 'em up and checked. You think anyone's in here?"

"Nah. Listen, I'm f***ing freezing, and I don't want to be walking around here any longer than I gotta be. Besides, it's almost dawn and the cars are cold. We'll just tell 'em we found a few cars from an old wreck. I am not going in there."

"We have to investigate. We can't just go back without looking."

'Please don't. Please don't,' Russia mentally begs.

"Oh, but why? It looks empty anyway and I don't want to run into any rattlesnakes."

There is a long sigh.

"Fine, we'll go back to the patrol car. But we are keeping watch."

"Yes."

The footsteps lead away, and the crackling leads away from the cabin's wall. Russia holds his breath until he hears a nearby car roar to life.

"Wha-" America starts, rubbing his face.

Dixie shushed him harshly. America falls silent and looks up to Russia.

"What's going on?" he mouths.

Russia shakes his head. When America begins to sit up, Russia sloppily puts his arm on America's back, trying to pull him down. America relents, giving Russia a confused and panicked look.

'Please, don't say anything. Please. They're too close. Please stay quiet. Please.'

America stares into his eyes.

America looks away and closes his mouth, still looking confused, but he puts his head back down into Russia's lap.

The car speeds around the area, and Russia can still almost make out some of the conversations the soldiers were having around the area as they would occasionally get out and continue to stray closer and closer to the cabin. Russia feels paralyzed, and the look on Dixie's face makes Russia believe that he felt the same.

America still looks confused but doesn't argue, but instead of speaking, he just stares around, confused by the sounds around them. Then, the soldiers' conversations became intelligible again.

"Boss is not gonna be happy," the deeper voice says.

"And? I told you, I was looking through those windows and didn't see anybody."

"We should still check before we go."

Dixie clutches the gun tighter.

"Well, I don't hear anything. And besides, no one tried to run. Face it, no one is here."

"Then, what's with the cars?"

"They were cold when we got here. And no one was sleeping in them. Come on, let's get back to Lambda. Our shift is almost over anyway."

"I'm still gonna look."

Then he hears them walk around the house. America hurriedly sits up and pulls Russia down on top of him, curling around his head. America used his back to muffle the sound. America flinches after hitting the ground but doesn't make a sound.

Russia could have sworn he felt someone staring right at him.

'Please, no. No. NO. Please don't see us. Please.'

He could feel someone staring a hole into his side.

He bits his lip and tries to stay as still as he could. He hopes, prays that no one saw his subtle shivering.

There are a few moments of silence before the footsteps continue.

"Looks like it might be a couple of druggy squatters. Guess you were right."

"I told you!"

"Let's head back to base. Maybe they turned around and went the other way."

"That's what I've been saying!"

The footsteps trail away. The car started back up. He heard both doors open and both people get in, talking about something he hadn't listened to.

They drove off. Once the engine was out of earshot, America whines.

"America," he tries to say. His voice doesn't cooperate, and his mouth feels full of cotton.

America hisses in pain.

"I think I may have ripped the stitches or something," America stammers out quietly, his voice soaked in pain.

Dixie slowly pokes his head up, peeking out the windows. Once he does, he quickly makes his way over to America. the states silently shuffle out of his way.

"Why did you do that?!" Dixie hisses.

"He would've seen Russia," America defends, shaking.

Then Dixie gasps. "Oh my god, there's blood everywhere," he mutters.

Texas pulls Russia away and Massachusetts hurries forward. Virginia and Delaware herd the other states away to give California and New York enough space to work.

"Dad. You need to be more f***ing careful," Massachusetts hisses, summoning a dull green light.

New York and California quickly approach and Russia watches on, helpless as America tries not to thrash about while California and New York examine his wound. New York curses under his breath and Louisiana helps disinfect their hands and she sits nearby with Georgia, ready to step in if needed.

'What do we do now?'

~

Next

Previous

Table of Contents

[miss-smrxtiee]

“I’m sorry” from prompt list!!

-Truly Sorry-

prompt #13 “I’m sorry...”

Warnings: Swearing. TINY amount of angst

Summary: Eliana and Ethan get in a heated argument that causes uncertainty to grow in their relationships. How will Ethan make it up to her? - ONE SHOT

A/N: I’m so sorry this took so long! I planned to have this posted 2 days ago but I’ve had some things come up in my personal life that caused me to hit the brakes a little on this but it’s finally here! Please like and reblog if you enjoy! It’s greatly appreciated💖 -S

Thank you @aylamwrites for the ask! YOU A QUEEN EVERYONE GO CHECK HER OUT! 💖🙌🏻 (Her OH fics are everything)

❤️-prompt list-❤️ (ask me!)

💖-full masterlist-💖

——————————-

Ethan’s POV

Guilt spreads through Ethan’s chest... Why am I so stupid! He looks across the room, his eyes settle on pictures of both him and his lover...

Why do I always push her away like that?

10 minutes before...

Eliana and Ethan were both in a very heated argument... I mean they have fights but this one was bad...

“You should calm down! It’s not a huge deal listen, I’m sorry Okay? You win.” Ethan says to a fuming Eliana.

“You’re not getting away like that! I’ve been trying so fucking hard these past few years to make you respect me! And one single thing changes that view and I have to listen to your lectures and all the stuff you hate about me! I’m sick of it!” Eliana rants. Ethan’s eyes widen. He can practically sees the pure anger rolling off of her.

Crap. She’s really getting mad about this... I need to calm her down so it doesn’t go overboard.

“E... I’m really sorry I haven’t respected you... I know I’ve been a dick these past few weeks but if you give me a chance I can make it up to y-“ Eliana cuts him off with her hand.

“That’s what you said before... I’m not sure if I can believe it again.” She sighed “Listen. I need some time to think... I know it’s sudden but I’m just gonna get a hotel for a while and process things. It just seems logical right now.”

Ethan’s eyes widen at her words. She wouldn’t just leave.. right? He looks at her as she packs a small suitcase of her clothes and toiletries.

Why am I so stupid...she shouldn’t leave me... god I’m such an ass...

After a few minutes she walks back into the living room with her bags. He frowns at her. “How long until you come back.” Ethan hoped she would realize she doesn’t need to leave. And that he loves her more then anything.

She shrugged her shoulders. “Awhile... I’m not to sure but if I find out I’ll text you. She said looking away from him. Not wanting to make eye contact

Shit.shit.shit.shit. I’m so stupid! Why do I always push her away?! Do something you idiot!

“... please don’t leave. I love you and I would do anything to make it up to you.” Ethan pleaded.

“I’m sorry Ethan, I need this space before we ruin this beyond repair. I’m doing this because I love you too.” Eliana looked genuine and Ethan just hung his head, not looking at her.

“..... ok, I love you. Please be safe. And text me.” He said. Eliana nodded and walked out, looking behind her shoulder as she turned down the hall.

Guilt spreads through Ethan’s chest... Why am I so stupid! He looks across the room, his eyes settle on pictures of both him and his lover...

Why do I push her like that...?

————————

Eliana’s POV

As soon as she got into her car her tears started to spill down her cheeks. I can’t live without him. I have to fix this and taking a break is the only way. She thought to herself.

Eliana drives around aimlessly trying to clear her head. After awhile she gets checked into her hotel and just plops down on her bed with a groan.

The room wasn’t anything fancy, it’s the last thing she could get for a last minute reservation. It had a mini fridge for food, a nice sized bathroom with a walk in shower. Their was one bed that took up most of the room.

I should unpack but...

I need to go to bed... she hesitates to text Ethan and tell him she was at the hotel. It’s just gonna be awkward, he can wait.

After she brushes her teeth and changes into her pajamas, she gets nestled into bed, her mind drifts off wishing Ethan’s arms were around her. She missed his little snores and the rise and fall of his chest. It was comforting. I miss that grump...

She smiled to herself and repeated the phrase.. I miss that grump. She stayed up thinking for awhile but ultimately drifted off into a deep sleep, still missing his warmth.

Ethan’s POV

Part of him was hoping that she would run right back through that door and fling her arms around his neck and tell him she didn’t mean it. But of course, she hasnt.

She has a right to be mad... but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Ethan stared at the door for what felt like hours after she left. He felt more upset then he has in a long time.

She’s gonna forgive me, right? He wasn’t sure how she felt. She had calmed down after his short apology that was still, even then, cut off.

Ethan’s hands ball into fists. I’m not giving up on us. I’m going to do everything I can’t to show her that I love that impeccable goofball...

He smiled to himself with a chuckle.

Impeccable goofball...

The next day...

Eliana’s POV.

She was pacing around her hotel room, not knowing what to do. I have to pull myself together... Eliana throws on a skirt and her blouse with her doctors coat on top. It was her signature outfit and she loved it to pieces.

She sighed as she looked at herself in the mirror after doing her daily morning routine. She reaches for her hairbrush in her bag...

More digging

Where is it?

More digging

Ugh it’s somewhere

More digging

Eliana sighs and flops down on her bed, think of the night she left their Condo...

Last night...

I have to do it for us... Eliana says to herself as she scrambled around to grab the things she needed to leave.

This is for the best right? Yeah of course...

Eliana continues thinking on the problem at hand that she forgets her hairbrush on the bathroom vanity...

Shit

I can’t go to work like this...

Eliana thinks back on all of the smaller stuff she left whilst in a hurry to leave and get her emotions together...

She groans as she throws her head back. I’m gonna have to get my ass out of bed and go over there to get my stuff.

She stares at her phone, then at the clock, and then back at her phone and she sighs while calling Doctor Emery about letting her take a half day and be in at 8:45 instead of 5:45. She grinned as she agreed and hung up to gather her things and walks to her car.

She pulls into a parking lot to text Ethan so it won’t be as awkward if she showed up without warning.

Ethan’s POV.

He hears a ding from his phone and he pirks up seeing Elianas contact name pop up.

Eliana: Hey, I forgot a few things last night... can I drop in for 5 minutes and grab them?

Ethan looked at the desk knowing it was her work day and he had the day off and nothing else to do... nothing else to do.... aha! Ethan’s brain sparked with a brilliant idea. He quickly replies.

Ethan: yeah of course, you have the key so feel free to come right in and grab your stuff.

Ethan hops off the couch and gets to work right away to prepare for her arrival.

Eliana’s POV.

She sighed looking at his text. It’s gonna be awkward... she turned on her car and plugged her GPS into her radio speaker and her mouth drops a little.

I really drove a lot last night. She thought as her GPS showed how far their condo was from the hotel.

She groaned and pulled out of the parking lot, beginning her drive.

5 minutes later...

10 minutes later...

15 minutes later...

“You have arrived at your destination” the voice rang out through her car. Sending a shiver down her spine at what’s to come.

She pulls in the driveway and sighs as she steps out of the car. She grabs her empty bag she was going to fill and walks towards the door.

She inserts the key into the lock and turns the doorknob counter clockwise until it pops open.

She walks in and and makes her way to the living room.

Oh my god...

Her breath hitched at the state of the living room. She noticed it was dark but didn’t think much of it at the time she was walking in. Wow. She said to herself at the sight Ethan had set up.

“Hello beautiful.” Ethan said wrapping his arms around her waist as she stared dumbfounded at him and their living space.

15 minutes before hand...

Ethan’s POV.

This has to be perfect. Ethan thought for the 10th time since his call ended and he got to work. He quickly put together a fort he and Eliana already had “blueprints” for and he knew it by heart. He smiles to himself as he put pillows on the floor of the fort, thinking what was to come. He grabbed as many of her favorite snacks and placed them into the cushioned area of his fort.

He then thought about his plan and what he was going to do to tell Eliana that he wasn’t going anywhere and she shouldn’t either. I love her and I want her to realize I would do anything for her. He said to himself.

He had a few minutes before she was supposed to arrive. He walked around, to nervous to focus his mind on anything else but her. He found himself picking up their old photos together. Most taken by Eliana much to his distaste at the time. He sighed picking up a photo of him and Eliana watching House M.D on amazon prime. The photo showed Eliana’s expert selfie skills as her middle and index finger pointed up into a “peace sign” whilst winking with a slight show of her tongue sticking out at the camera. He was glaring at her in the background, clearly trying to focus on the show and not her shenanigans. But was also clearly failing. He sighed at the memory.

Binge watching night...

“Smileeee!!” Eliana said while taking several selfies of the pair.

“Rook, you gotta focus on the show...” Ethan said motioning to the screen.

“Oh please, you just wanna watch so you can say that you figured out the case before anyone else did...” she said with a smirk.

He glared at her, capturing the moment Ethan now held in his hands...

Present...

Eliana’s POV.

She continued to gape at the set-up. Her gaze wondering the giant fort with the tv hidden under, her favorite snacks, even her favorite pillow was stuffed in her spot she usually took when they built this same fort.

She looked back at Ethan who was smiling warmly at her from around her shoulder, his hands where still rapped around her waist and he spun her around to face him.

“I love you.” He said, not even a moment later she crashed her lips to his and they’re faces smiling wide as they parted. She threw her arms around his neck and he lifted her up and spun her around, eliciting a fit of giggles from her.

“E... I don’t even know how to tell you how sorry I am...” Ethan said while setting her down.

“Hey, I’m sorry too. I should’ve talked to you more about our situation and I might just be saying that because I practically died without you.” They both laughed and he took her hand and led her over to the fort and they both sat down. He handed her a glass of her favorite drink to ever exsist.... grape juice. She laughed as he handed her a wine glass of it. They clinked the glasses together.

“To new beggings?” He asked.

“To new beginnings.” She replied

“I have to be at work at 8:45 ya know.” She said raising her eyebrows while taking another sip “I can’t binge watch all day.” She said. “I also have to grab my stuff from the hotel...” She added shyly.

Ethan tapped his chin and quickly got up, placing his glass down and leaving her in confusion. “What are you doing?” She said before he disappeared around the corner. He looked back at her and smiled. “I’ll be back in a second.” She raised an eyebrow as he left. He returned a minute later with a grin on his face.

“What did you do?” She asked with her brows furrowed in confusion.

“I convinced Emery to give you the day off” he said proudly as she gaped at him. A second later her surprised face turns into a smile that matched his. “We can grab your thins tomorrow.” He added before kissing the top of her head.

“I can’t believe you convinced her, she never lets loose, I’ll also probably get beef from Zaid when I walk into work tomorrow..” they both laughed in usion.

(Switching To Ethan’s POV kinda randomly...)

Ethan grabs the remote as they both get comfortable in the fort and Ethan smiles as she snuggles into his side.

He tilts her head up to meet his gaze. “I’m going to spend this day very wisely my dearest.” He kiss her softly and she smiled up at him.

“And however are you going to do that?” She said with a teasing tone. He kissed her hand, looking into her eyes.

“I have many things planned, starting with rewatching that one episode of Hosue M.D and showing you how much I love you a little later.” He waggles his eyebrows and she snorts, leading them into even more laughter and she pops an M&M into her mouth. He knew it was her favorite and soon enough they where watching the same episode they where watching when she took the picture. But this time glaring didn’t even cross his mind, he only thought of how lucky he was to be with her in that moment. He made a vow to himself to do better and never to jepordize their relationship for no reason in the first place. He loved her now, her loved her before, and will continue to love her for many years of happiness to come. He thanked his lucky stars for the beautiful goddess laying in his arms. And couldn’t ask for anything more.