#maybe ill get 2 chaps out tomorrow ........ maybe

[dekupalace]

every time I get a comment on family bonds I get so happy aaaaa this is so so so cool I'm so honored ;;

[catboymingi]

and the damsel in distress - veninder chap. 2

navi/masterlist

story masterlist

pairing: mingi x reader

genre: angst, fluff; eventual best friends to lovers

word count: 7.2k

warnings: language, insecurities, past trauma mention, somewhat suicidal thoughts (very briefly, one sentence)

a/n: after ages of exams where i focused on smaller writings i finally am updating... this chapter is a ride but it is the ride i decided to take

yo var det mig / der’ dummet sig? - was it me / that messed up?

when you woke up and unlocked your phone you immediately wished you hadn’t woken up, ever. you had more than a hundred messages from various chats, and while you wished you could just ignore them forever you knew that you’d have to deal with it tomorrow latest, and you’d rather do it without an audience. so you had no choice to reply, opening the private messages first and telling all your friends that you’d reply in the group chat, before you opened that one.

[y/n]: sry for that. forgot my wallet, had no way to get home in time

[y/n]: nothing happened tho

the reply came almost immediately, as if they’d just waited for you to come online.

[saranghoe]: u literally didnt even try 2 call dibs n now ur staying the night?? seems suspicious

[model contract when???]: yeah literally!

[y/n]: as i said, better than sleeping on the street

[model contract when???]: just dont go near them again. ever

[y/n]: fine

[y/n]: deal

you hated the idea, but you knew that if you didn’t agree your life would be a living hell. and that was definitely not something you wanted, knowing how they’d made life hell for other people and knowing that there was no way anyone could protect you from that. so, the next thing you did was click on ‘hyung hate club’, not even bothering to read the messages before leaving the group. you didn’t like this, but it was better this way. as much as you liked the boys, you liked being able to go to uni in peace more, and you knew that would be impossible if you so much as breathed in their direction from now on. you sighed, putting your phone down and laying back onto your bed again, wanting some peace for yourself, but you weren’t granted that. less than a minute after you’d laid down your phone buzzed, once, twice, thrice. knowing that you wouldn’t be able to relax until you knew what was up you sat back up, checking your phone to see messages from an unknown number. curious, you clicked on the notification.

[unknown]: y/n???

[unknown]: im mingi

[unknown]: whats wrong??

you weren’t sure whether to be happy he messaged or scream into your pillow. in some way it was nice he cared, but that also meant it would be harder to avoid the boys. and that meant that, no matter how hard you tried, your friends would have a reason to be upset.

[y/n]: why?

[unknown]: you left the gc?

[unknown]: what happened

[y/n]: nothing dw, im all good

he saw the message but didn’t reply right away, which made you think that maybe he’d accept your reply. but then you saw him typing again, and a message you didn’t expect at all appeared on your screen.

[unknown]: did i mess up

[y/n]: wdym

you genuinely had no idea what he meant, or rather, how he could’ve got the idea that he’d messed up in any way. he’d been nothing but kind to you, there was not a single thing he could possibly have messed up on. but when a new message popped up you knew he was genuinely worrying about it, and you felt bad for not being able to tell him the real reason why you left the group chat, why you had to avoid them.

[unknown]: like did i do something wrong

[y/n]: not at all

[y/n]: its not abt you dw

you hoped he’d leave it be with that, but of course not. he wanted to know what was wrong, he wanted to know why you suddenly didn’t seem to want to talk to him, or any of them for that matter, anymore.

[unknown]: then what is it

and while you were thinking of a good excuse, mingi seemed to have caught on to what exactly the problem was, as was made apparent by his next message.

[unknown]: its your friends isnt it

there was no way you could reply to that decently, so you didn’t, staring at the screen in frustration with your friends and him and mainly yourself. you wanted to say something, you really did, but you had no idea what. tell him you were sorry? tell him to leave you alone? tell him that sometimes life just sucked and you had to deal with it? none of that would’ve been a good reply, and in all honesty you also didn’t want to have to deal with the emotional turmoil it would inevitably bring.

you didn’t notice that you’d spaced out and your phone had locked itself until it buzzed in your hand again, another message from the unknown number you now knew to be mingi. it just read ‘got it’ and you felt awful, scared that you’d hurt or upset one of the only people in forever that had shown genuine care for you. but of course you’d had to mess it up.

//

the next day came and you still felt bad, somewhat fearful as well. your friend group’s chat had returned to the usual topics, but you still weren’t sure how they’d react to you when they saw you again. you were hellbent on acting as usual, hoping that if you acted like nothing happened they would as well, and it was somewhat successful, getting weird stares every now and then, but no more comments than usual. you wouldn’t let yourself relax just yet, but this was a good sign, at least.

but then came lunch. you tried to act casual, not wanting to let on to the fact that you were horrified that one of the boys would shout out for you at any moment. your eyes darted around aimlessly, mainly looking for a certain giant sporting bright red hair, simply because he was easiest to spot out of the group you’d spent saturday night with. when you still hadn’t spotted him when you sat down to eat with your friends your shoulders relaxed, but it had been a mistake to think that they’d forgotten about you.

you hadn’t noticed that yunho was on his way towards you until he was standing right there, having moved surprisingly inconspicuously for someone his height. but there he was, staring down at you with an expression you couldn’t judge. you tried to avoid his eyes, feeling so incredibly guilty for ignoring him when he and his friends had been your saviour when you needed one, but you couldn’t help it. even now you could feel your friends’ angry stares on you, when you hadn’t even acknowledged the boy’s presence.

“y/n”, yunho suddenly spoke up. you couldn’t help but look up at him at that, knowing it was a mistake, but your head moved by itself. and he noticed, a small smile appearing on his face now. he nodded his head as a sign that he wanted to talk to you with a little more privacy, and you knew that if you didn’t go with him he’d try to sort whatever he wanted to sort here, in front of your friends, which would be way worse than leaving with him for maybe two minutes and returning, convincing them that you told him never to come up to you again. so you got up, but before you could actually go to a more private area he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. you hit his back in a desperate attempt to let you down, but deep down you knew that your punches wouldn’t affect him in any way. so you gave up, hanging like a sack of potatoes, feeling everyone’s curious stares on you.

he first let you down at their table, hongjoong scolding him that a less dramatic approach would’ve done the job as well. wooyoung and yeosang were laughing while the others looked at you curiously, and you were still deciding whether or not to kill yunho right there.

that decision was made for you when mingi spoke up.

“you told me you’d see me at lunch.” you couldn’t quite decipher his tone, whether he was angry or disappointed or hurt, but you knew it wasn’t a positive emotion you heard in his voice. you hated that you were the reason for his upset, but you also hated that your decision about how to deal with the dilemma you were in had been made for you, by people that knew nothing about your situation. you weren’t them, you didn’t have a support system, you didn’t have the option to choose who you were friends with, you didn’t have any of the things that were a given for everyone else. you had to take what you got and make do with it, and they’d just made that significantly harder for you.

“i told you i couldn’t”, you replied, your own voice a mixture of sadness and anger. you wanted to be able to, really, but it wasn’t something you could change. and the fact that he’d seen how your friends had reacted to you doing something they didn’t like and still didn’t stop this, maybe even actively encouraged this, made you angry, even though maybe it shouldn’t. he hadn’t had any ill intentions, but that didn’t really matter to you when you knew he wouldn’t be affected at all by whatever happened as a reaction to this. that he - they - had started a battle you’d have to fight.

no one said anything to that and you thought the conversation was over, that they’d realised that you wouldn’t be able to join their friend group or talk to them at all unless necessary, so you turned around, managing to take a single step before someone grabbed your wrist. you turned around again in surprise and saw that it was seonghwa, whom you’d assumed to be kind and soft-spoken, definitely not the kind to do this. but here you were, being kept from leaving by his hand around your wrist. it was mingi who spoke, though.

“they’re not being nice to you. you deserve better.” and you knew, you knew all that, you knew everything he could tell you to convince you that they weren’t the right friends for you, but that didn’t change anything. and you’d had enough hurt, enough mistreatment in your life to want to avoid it at all costs now. if that meant giving up a bit of your happiness but getting to keep your peace of mind that was a price you were more than willing to pay. but the boy looking at you with softness in his eyes didn’t seem to be willing to have you pay that price.

“sit down.” seonghwa had let go of your arm now, moving a little so that you’d fit next to him. it wasn’t an order, more of a suggestion, but you were too tired, too exhausted to potentially risk a discussion you might not be able to win, so you just complied, resting your head in your palms. and because of that the boys at first didn’t even notice that you didn’t have your food, or any of your things, since it didn’t seem like you wanted to eat anyway.

it was san that noticed, already having finished inhaling his meal when you hadn’t even started yours. the surprise at that was what made him realise that there was no meal for you to finish.

“yunho!”, he suddenly yelled out, making everyone’s heads snap up, even yours. “you forgot y/n’s things when you kidnapped her!” at that realisation, panic made its way onto your face. you had no idea what state your things would be in by the time you’d reach them. your phone, your wallet, all your notes were in your bag, and you’d just left it with your friends that without a doubt were plotting how to ruin your life by now. you jolted up and towards the table they’d been sitting at, but when you saw they’d already left your panic only increased. your bag was still there, carelessly kicked underneath the table when you’d been sitting with the others, but you had no idea what the insides would look like. you probably looked like a maniac all but ripping it open, fumbling with the zipper with shaking hands and ransacking your bag to make sure you still had everything you needed, checking your wallet and phone to see just how fucked you were. everything was still in order, though; it seemed like they’d forgotten about your bag, in part thanks to you having kicked it out of sight thoughtlessly. you almost cried at the relief, and mingi, who’d followed you after your sudden exit to make sure you were okay, wasn’t really sure what to do. he kneeled down next to where you were still crouching on the floor, staring at your bag and its content as if it were the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen, and just looked at you, waiting for you to realise he was there as well.

when after a while (was it seconds? minutes? it felt too long for mingi) you still seemed to not have noticed his presence he carefully tapped your leg, making sure his hand was visible before he actually touched you. you seemed so spaced out that he was pretty certain any sudden touch or noise would scare you to no end. but even though he was so careful not to be too sudden your head still shot up with a force that made him fear you’d break your neck; you’d half expected one of your friends to be the one touching you, so your anxious reaction was at least in part caused by that. but when you saw that it was only him you relaxed a little, though your heartbeat still would not return to normal.

“you okay?”, he asked you once it seemed like you wouldn’t drop dead from shock or kill him if he said anything, worry apparent in his voice, and you could understand him, really - this wasn’t a regular reaction to forgetting your bag with your friends. but you didn’t have regular friends either, so it evened out.

“i guess.” you grabbed your bag and got up, wanting nothing more than to get out of that awkward situation, and the tall boy followed suit.

“wanna join us for the rest of lunch?” he expected you to say no. you knew that you should say no. and a look at where you’d sat at the table confirmed that you didn’t even have anything to eat anymore - they’d probably thrown it away as soon as you left. so there was no reason to go, there was no reason to make yourself even more of a target. but maybe that was why you ended up saying yes. you’d already become a target, so now you might as well spend time with them, you didn’t really have anything to lose anymore. and the smile he gave you when you agreed to join them made you think that it’d maybe be worth it, even.

the others looked at you in surprise when you returned to their table, mingi having a triumphant look on his face. they didn’t say anything, though, scared of putting you off and causing another somewhat-freak out like the one earlier. of course, to them it didn’t make sense, they had no idea just what your friends could do. they’d never been their victim, and they’d never been around to see what their victims had to deal with. but you knew. and the thought of it almost sent you into a panic attack, so you let yourself fall onto the bench (a loud ‘thud’ could be heard, so you really hadn’t been gentle with yourself) and put your head on the table, ignoring how greasy it probably was, your focus being on stopping your breath from speeding up before it was too late. you couldn’t see the looks they gave each other, but you could imagine them. you were a mess, a scared, traumatised mess, and that less than 48 hours after first having met them. you honestly wouldn’t be surprised if they told you to go sit somewhere else, or got up and left themselves. but they were still there when you lifted your head again, looking at you worriedly, but without judgment.

mingi was the first to speak, having put the pieces together by now.

“they’re that bad?” you knew whom he meant. he’d seen the message, he’d been the one to figure out they didn’t want you to talk to them, he’d seen the way you’d rummaged your bag, so it wasn’t hard for him to figure out what, or rather whom, you were scared of. yet he couldn’t imagine why you were that scared of people supposed to be your friends.

“worse.” you tried to mask your fear with a bitter tone, but it didn’t exactly work. the boys didn’t exactly know how to react to that, trying desperately to come up with a way to lighten the mood.

“you have eight bodyguards now.” you weren’t the only one surprised when it was jongho that spoke up, but the others were quick to agree, telling you that the girls had to get past them first. ‘mainly jongho, to be fair’, as wooyoung elaborated. and while you still weren’t feeling good about it, you were feeling better now, the fearful expression replaced by a smile. san, not wanting to waste that chance, asked you if he could re-add you to ‘hyung hate club’, and you couldn’t resist the puppy eyes he gave you, so you agreed. as soon as he did so mingi got his phone out, resending the message he’d sent when he’d brought you home. ‘pyjama party this weekend n y/ns still coming’. your reply was an emoji rolling its eyes, but the smile hadn’t left your face. then you saved his number, asking the others to send a message with their name so you could know who was who.

“they’ll never shut up”, hongjoong informed you casually as he sent his name, and while you knew he was telling you, indirectly, that from this moment on you would never be able to have a moment of peace and quiet and no notifications you were happy about this fact, because it meant that at least you wouldn’t be lonely.

“i have my ways.” you grinned at him as you said that, then you went to save all the numbers in your phone. doing so brought your attention to the time, and you noticed that it was time to leave for class, your happy expression immediately disappearing as you realised that they wouldn’t be around to protect you during class. And class was the place you couldn’t escape from; you needed the credits, and part of you also didn’t want to have to give up on something that always brought you joy just because you had to fear you wouldn’t be left alone.

“i need to go.” your expression didn’t go unnoticed, and seonghwa and yeosang, who had this period off, told you they’d be right there if something happened, you just had to send a message. they also insisted on bringing you to your class, and while you did feel a little like a child that needs their parents to bring them everywhere because they’re scared by themselves you also really appreciated it. so you took off with your two bodyguards, waving at the others as they left for their own classes.

“it’ll be fine”, yeosang said after a couple hundred metres during which neither of you had said anything, and you looked at him with doubt apparent in your eyes.

“it will”, seonghwa stated, a lot more sure about it than you were. “and if not, you know we’ll be right there.” that only did little to reassure you, but you had no choice either way.

you reached your classroom way too fast, and you could feel your breath speed up as soon as you walked towards the door, hesitating. maybe you should just drop out of uni and become a shepherd in a secluded village somewhere in a strange country in europe. maybe that was a better plan. but the choice was made for you as one of your now ex-friends waved towards you, a cheery expression on her face that would have fooled you, had you not seen that same expression on her face countless times before, knowing that it meant nothing but danger. but it was too late to turn around now, so all you could do was pretend you didn’t know what you were about to face.

“hey!” your tone was at least as fake as her expression as you greeted her back. then you went to your seat, and for the first half of class things actually went okay. you were tense, you were stressed, you were scared, but nothing happened. but then the teacher told you that it was time to do group work now, and things went downhill. you were grouped by how you were seating, which included you, one of the girls, and two classmates you barely ever talked to, whose names you didn’t even know, but whom you had nothing against, at least. but they would soon have something against you.

as you were working, one of them had her laptop out to take notes and prepare a presentation, as was the task. and that gave your ex-friend an idea. it was an expensive laptop, and you, as always, had a cup of water on the table, fairly close to the middle so it wouldn’t be able to drop by itself. it wouldn’t have to drop by itself, though. first, the girl next to you dropped her pen and kicked it over to the other two, pretending to have done so in an attempt to retrieve it and be able to pick it up.

“i’m sorry, i dropped my pen! can you maybe pick it up, i can’t reach it.” an apologetic smile was sent their way, as if to say ‘sorry for the hassle’. both girls opposite you ducked at the same time, trying to see where the pen was and who would be able to pick it up more easily. that was what she’d planned, though; as soon as they were no longer able to see you, she spilled your water. over the laptop that was still on the table. and as if that wasn’t enough, she got up, yelling your name loudly, asking you why you’d done that. everyone was looking at you by now, and the girl whose laptop had been sacrificed quickly tried to dry it off with her sleeve, asking for tissues, trying to save it. no use, it seemed like it had broken right away. and everyone thought it was you. that you’d broken the laptop on purpose.

“she was writing her thesis, y/n! i knew you were jealous, but i didn’t think you’d go that far!” you just stared at the scene around you wide-eyed, not even fully realising that this was real. by now even the teacher had come to look at what exactly was going on, and your lack of self defense was a seemingly obvious sign of you actually being the culprit.

“i think you should leave the class now. and you will have to replace the laptop.” all you could do was stare at who used to be your friend, unable to believe that she would do this to you. you hadn’t even actually done anything, and you’d been friends with these girls for almost a year now, yet she’d had no hesitation to ruin not only your reputation but also you financially. she was fully aware that you were barely scraping by. she was fully aware that you would never be able to replace the laptop. she knew all that. and she still did it, just because you’d dared to talk to someone they’d called dibs on. you couldn’t believe it.

//

you didn’t really remember how you’d left the class, and were surprised to find that you’d remembered to pack all your things back into your bag, that you hadn’t forgotten anything. you’d just left, going who even knew where, dropping on the floor when your legs didn’t want to carry you anymore, and starting to cry. and you stayed there, crying, losing all feeling for how much time had passed. this had been your last class of the day, so you had nowhere to be, and you didn’t want to be anywhere, either. you wanted to vanish. you wanted to die, in all honesty. if it continued like this your only choice was dropping out, basically having wasted the past year and all the work and money you’d put into your studies.

you were so caught up in your crying that you hadn’t noticed your phone buzzing with message after message, first paying attention to it when someone called you. it was seonghwa, who’d been there to pick you up after class only to see that you weren’t there. you didn’t feel like picking up, so you pressed the red button through your tears. he tried again, with the same result, and first when your phone started buzzing continuously with new messages you took a look at the group chat. now you found out why they were calling you - they’d tried to get you after class, but you weren’t there, and now you’d neither read their messages nor picked up their calls, so they all were quite worried at this point. you felt sorry about that, so you decided to send a message saying ‘sorry for worrying you’, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say that you were fine. it seemed like any sign of you being alive was already a success, though, lots of relieved messages flooding the chat. you hoped that maybe they wouldn’t ask what happened, but of course they did.

[hongjoong]: what happened?

[y/n]: i dont want to talk abt it

the chat was quiet after that, no one really knowing what to say. but, again, mingi sent you a private message.

[mingi]: where are you???

you didn’t want to explain anything and you didn’t want to pretend you were fine, so you just sent him your location, his ‘ill be right there’ coming just a few seconds after you’d sent your message. you were somewhat relieved that you wouldn’t have to be alone right now, but you also dreaded having to explain what happened. for now, though, you should probably focus on looking a little more like a person and a little less like you’d just spent the past hour crying. even though you had it didn’t have to be obvious like that, so you tried to clean off the streaks of ruined makeup on your cheeks, using your phone as a makeshift mirror. once you were done you tilted your head to see if there was anything you’d missed, but it was okay. it wasn’t good, but it was the best you could do right now. then, you waited.

you’d put in your headphones after roughly two minutes of waiting, way too nervous at every single sound that surrounded you, but that also made you miss mingi shouting your name once he’d arrived, and the sudden appearance of his large frame in your field of vision did surprise you quite some, flinching visibly before you took out your headphones and looked up at him, trying to smile but failing miserably. and he immediately caught on, sitting down next to where you were sitting on the floor and looking at you silently for a moment.

“do you want a hug?” he didn’t know what else to offer, but he wanted to let you know that he was there for you, and you willingly accepted the offer. he wrapped his arms around you then, pulling you a little closer so you could rest your head on his shoulder, and then you continued to sit in silence. it was strangely comforting, having someone there for you even when they had no idea what you were even upset about, offering you their presence and leaving the choice of whether or not you wanted to tell to you. you didn’t want to have to leave this situation, the safety you felt when embraced by mingi, who was much taller than you and who made you feel like, even just by virtue of his height, he could protect you. but you had to, you knew you did, you couldn’t spend all day wherever you were now.

“we should go home.” mingi hummed in response, removing his arms from where they were wrapped around you, and the two of you got up. he looked at you hesitantly - you could tell he wanted to say or ask something, so you cocked your head, encouraging him this way to tell you whatever was on his mind.

“they’re all worried, so i was wondering… i told them i’m going to meet you, but i think they’d feel better if they could see for themselves that you’re in one piece.” you nodded, both as a sign of understanding and to show that it was fine with you to meet them before you went home. he nodded as well, slowly starting to walk and somewhat unsure if you’d actually follow him, but you did.

you walked in silence until you reached the train station, where he bought the ticket for you again. you looked at him, about to protest, but when he told you it was his treat again you just nodded, not having the energy to argue and also glad that you could save the money seeing how very soon you’d need every single won. after that, you were silent again, sitting next to each other with your head on his shoulder, which you’d have been embarrassed and shy about if you weren’t so exhausted. you were exhausted, though, and it took all your energy to not fall asleep on him - but at least you succeeded with that, your eyes still somewhat open when he told you you had to get off at the next stop. you sat up, then, immediately missing the warmth and comfort of him so close to you. the boys made you feel weirdly safe, and you couldn’t tell why it was - maybe it was just the unusual feeling of having friends that cared about you even when you had nothing to offer, but no matter what it was, it was nice.

another thing that was nice was that mingi didn’t make you talk, didn’t even try. he’d talk, but he didn’t mind if you didn’t reply. he’d just resume his story, letting you know that he wasn’t ignoring you but that he didn’t expect anything from you. and with this behaviour you slowly started to feel better, feeling ready to tell what had happened by the point you reached the boys’ place.

“mingi?” it seemed like they’d been waiting for him to come home, shouting his name as soon as he’d closed the door behind you.

“and y/n!”, he replied, entering the living room with you in tow. you were somewhat surprised to find them all already gathered there, but mingi didn’t seem to be. he just plopped down on the couch, patting the space next to him to signal you to sit down as well. so you did, staring at your hands as soon as you’d sat down, unsure how to start. and they were unsure as well, unsure if they should ask you or wait until you started talking by yourself.

“i…”, you started, but then stopped again. this was hard.

“i’m sorry for not taking your calls”, was how you decided on starting. “i just- i couldn’t. everything was so much.” and even though you hadn’t even started actually explaining yet a small sob already escaped from your lips, and you hid your face in shame. you looked up again though when you felt a hand on your knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze, and looked at the boy attached to the hand - mingi. he looked at you with soft, encouraging eyes, and you took a few slow breaths before you started talking again.

“they hate me. in class, one of them spilled water on my classmate’s laptop and broke it, and then she said it was me, that i did it because i was jealous of that classmate’s good grades.” you tried very hard to stay calm while telling, not wanting to break down crying before you even finished explaining why you’d ignored them, why you’d run away from class without telling anyone where you were.

“and everyone believed her because no one saw and she doesn’t have a reason to do it but the way she framed it i do, and now the girl is so angry because she was writing her thesis and i think it’s gone now and also the laptop is broken and i have to replace it and i just… i can’t afford that and i don’t know what to do and- ouch!” mingi’s hand had remained on your knee while you spoke, but the more you elaborated the tighter his grip got, seemingly without him noticing, because when he heard you yelp he immediately took away his hand and apologised profoundly for having hurt you.

“i’m just so fucking angry that she’d do that”, he explained. “you literally haven’t done anything!” and he wasn’t the only angry one, either, all the boys visibly fuming.

“but i can’t do anything about it”, you said, sounding defeated, “but i’m so scared that i’ll be kicked out of the course because i need it for my degree and if i get kicked out due to gross misbehaviour, even when it wasn’t actually me, i’ll lose my scholarship and then i won’t be able to continue studying and i won’t have a degree either and no one will hire me and i’ll end up homeless and in debt and… and…” you were unable to continue, your sobs having completely taken over at this point. you felt pathetic for breaking down like this, but your entire future was on the line just because you’d chosen to pick your friends yourself rather than waiting for approval. it was unfair, and it was horrible, and it reinforced the belief in you that if you didn’t do what others told you to do, the consequences would be horrible.

mingi wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his chest - it seemed like out of the eight boys he was the one who’d taken on the role of your protector now, always taking care of you like this, ever since you first met. the others were there as well, of course, but they were more of a silent support as mingi actually pulled you in, and it was okay that way. it worked that way, his deep voice and careful touch being able to calm you down enough that you were able to breathe somewhat regularly again.

“i want to go home now”, you said once the worst was over. you were still sniffling, but you didn’t care. you wanted to go back to your bed, you wanted to hug the teddy bear that you’d owned since you were born, you wanted the comfort of your own home. being here with them was nice, and it had helped you calm down, but your own home, your own bed, was still something different. and it seemed like they could understand that wish to be in a familiar environment, because they just nodded.

“i’ll bring you.” the way he’d said it it didn’t sound like you had a choice, but it was okay. the tall boy had been there for you all afternoon, and he (and the others too, really) would probably feel better if he knew you were home safe and sound. you hummed in response which he correctly interpreted as your okay, because he got up with you and followed you to the door where you stopped to say goodbye and thank them for listening. then you left, the red-haired giant following suit silently.

the train station wasn’t far away, as you knew by now, and the two of you walked next to each other in silence. once there, he paid for your ticket again without a second thought, and while you did feel guilty about it you also were glad he did so. your head rested on his shoulder again during the train ride, something you didn’t even think about anymore; being close to him felt natural, maybe due to the fact that there’d been a lot of good reasons to be close to him in the roughly three days you’d known each other, maybe because he didn’t seem to register it as something noteworthy either.

you didn’t talk during the trip, the first time either of you said anything being when you told him, once you’d gotten off the train, that you were glad he’d brought you, and tried to say goodbye to him unsuccessfully because he told you he’d walk you home unless you’d report him for stalking if he did so. you shook your head, smiling slightly, and started walking. it was once more him who kept the (so far nonexistent) conversation alive, commenting on anything with a child-like wonder in his voice. it sounded like he’d never seen a tree before, or a street, or a house - everything seemed to surprise and somewhat excite him, and in all honesty you thought it was sweet. he managed to distract until you reached your apartment this way, but he noticed the way you tensed up as you unlocked the door. a day ago he’d have thought your fear was an overreaction, and maybe its intensity was, but after what had happened today he was fairly certain it was justified.

“do you want me to go in first?”, he asked as you wouldn’t even fully open the door, obviously scared of what would expect you. you nodded and moved to the side, giving him the option to slip inside. and a couple seconds later he was in front of you again, opening the door widely and telling you that everything was okay. first then did you relax even slightly, entering with careful steps as if you were expecting to jump out of the shadows and murder you. mingi was right, your apartment was fine, but you weren’t. you hated this, hated that you didn’t even feel safe in your own home, and that there was nothing you could do about that.

mingi soon caught on to the fact that even though everything was fine you didn’t seem relaxed at all, looking around like a rabbit expecting the fox to jump out any moment and devour it. and it was your scared expression that made the words leave his mouth before he could stop himself.

“do you want me to stay the night?” you looked at him surprised, both at his words and at the fact that he was still there - you’d forgotten about him in your worry.

“you don’t have to.” you didn’t want to be even more of a bother. you didn’t want him to get annoyed at your scaredy cat-behaviour.

“but do you want me to?”

“you don’t have anything here.” really, you were just trying to come up with excuses for not directly answering his question, because the answer would have been a ‘yes’. yes, you did want him to stay the night, but you didn’t want him to do so because he felt like he had to.

“that’s fine. it’s just a night, and i only have late classes tomorrow. do you want me to?”

you couldn’t stand to look at him as you nodded, feeling weak and vulnerable and like a burden, but he just said ‘okay’, then got out his phone and started typing.

“i’m just letting them know”, he explained when he saw your questioning expression, and you nodded again. you felt slow, tired, and you just wanted to sleep. and yet once more he seemed to know exactly what you were thinking.

“you should go to bed”, he told you softly, “i’ll be right here.”

“you need sleep too!” it was first then you realised that you couldn’t offer him the luxury of choosing his bed for the night, that you couldn’t even offer him the luxury of having anything bigger than a single-person bed. but he didn’t seem to care, nodding.

“just get ready. i’ll wait.” and because you were way too tired to argue about anything at all, you just grabbed your pyjamas from your bed and left for the bathroom to get changed. you got into your pyjamas and wiped the worst stains off your face with a wet washcloth, but didn’t have the energy for anything else. this would have to do for today.

mingi was waiting for you on the floor when you got back, jacket, shirt and shoes huddled together next to him. maybe usually you’d have been a little flushed at him being shirtless, but in this moment all that mattered was getting into bed and sleeping. so you crawled underneath your blanket, moving as close to the wall as possible so he’d be able to still comfortably fit in next to you. he joined, pulling the blanket to cover both of you, and as soon as he’d done so you told him goodnight, him replying with a ‘goodnight’ of his own. he was fairly certain you’d fall asleep right away by how exhausted you seemed, but he found himself surprised when after roughly half an hour you were still tossing and turning.

“you okay?” he didn’t know if this was normal for you or something to be worried about, but he wanted to be sure you weren’t suffering silently just because you didn’t want to bother him.

“tell me something nice”, was what you replied instead of answering his question.

“what do you want to hear?”

“i don’t care. something happy.”

he thought for a moment before he started telling you about his seventh birthday, trying to remember as many details as possible so he’d have something to tell until you’d fallen asleep. his low, calm voice calmed your anxious heartbeat a little, and you stopped shifting so much. you did, however, scoot closer to him subconsciously, your back soon pressed against his chest as you sought out his comforting presence, his warmth. he wasn’t sure if you’d done it on purpose, so he didn’t immediately wrap his arm around you, softly putting his fingertips onto your waist first to wait for your reaction, to see if you’d shy away from his touch. but you did the opposite, grabbing his hand and pressing it close to your chest as if it was a lifeline keeping you from drowning. he just resumed his story, not commenting on it, and you were glad he didn’t. and cuddled up like that his deep, steady voice managed to lull you to sleep.

[mind-reader1]

I’m the Bad Guy (duh)

Summary: Emma has an accident the morning after her engagement to Drake in the safehouse that turns everyone’s world upside down. Nothing will be the same, no matter how hard Drake tries.

Catch up here!

Word count: 2496 words

Chapter 8, part 2: How to save a life

6 MONTHS LATER

New York City

Liam was relieved when he finally stepped into the lobby of his hotel in New York. He’d been on edge since they arrived and stared at the clock for the majority of the meeting he was there for. The city was filled with ghosts for him, every woman could’ve been her, when someone walked by he could hear her laughter floating on the wind like music to ears. New York was the city where they met, the city where he thought they'd begin the rest of their lives together, the city where she broke his heart. He sat in his room, all the lights shut off, staring out at the city lights. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but he couldn’t sleep. His mind replayed memory after memory. He thought a walk would clear his mind.

He walked aimlessly and found himself in front of the Statue of Liberty, he looked at it for only a second but it was enough. He could taste her strawberry lip gloss, feel her slightly chapped lips against his, burned into his brain forever. He thought about her less often now, but in New York, he found it impossible to think of anything but her.

He continued on his walk when something caught his eye. It looked like a photography studio. A small hole in the wall building, a single message on the window, “for inquiries about the photos, contact the artist” and it listed a phone number, no name.

That wasn’t what had caught Liam’s eye though, what had caught his eye were the photos themselves that he could see through the glass windows. Red apples, beautiful ball gowns caught twirling during a waltz, the Hudson lit up at night. Liam felt the wind knocked out of his lungs by some invisible force when he saw the next picture, a beautiful woman with long curls staring up at a man with shaggy brown hair, pulling her close as he stared lovingly back.

For a moment it was as if he was staring at an image of Emma and Drake. He steadied himself against the glass. It was just his mind playing tricks on him.

When he had regained some sense of equilibrium, he went back to the photos, so many men with shaggy brown hair, beautiful horses. He took a photo of the phone number and continued to walk. It was just a coincidence, he told himself, though he was beginning to let the doubt creep in when he realized where he had ended up.

It was her bar.

Maybe this would be a good place to finally put a rest to the story, the place where it all began is the place where it should end. He took a deep breath and walked in, not knowing his ghosts weren’t ghosts after all.

“Hello sir, what can I get for you?”

“I’ll have a glass of red wine, please.”

The young man nods and disappears into the back, leaving Liam to stare at the picture he took. He decides to call the number, hoping to see the gallery up close tomorrow.

//

“Emma!” Daniel rushes into the back as she takes off her apron for the night.

“I’m not covering for you Daniel, I’m going into the studio early tomorrow. I’m sorry.”

He waves his hand dismissively. “That’s not why I’m looking for you! You have to see this hot tortured guy that just came in.”

Emma rolled her eyes and gave Daniel the best smile she could muster. “I don’t need you to keep trying to set me up, really. I think I’m better off alone now anyways.”

“I know you loved him, but you don’t have to be in love to have some fun.”

Emma sighed. She had told Daniel everything after she started working at the bar again. He tried to be helpful by trying to set her up with guys he thought looked like Drake but Emma just wasn’t interested. She was still learning to navigate life after the accident, she’d come a long way but didn’t need romance to complicate things.

“Daniel -“

“Walk out the front and just look please?”

“Fine.” She said exasperated.

She switched into her street clothes and tucked her uniform into her bag as she walked out the kitchen door. The head that snapped up to meet hers was one of the last she ever expected to see.

Both of them were frozen as they stared at each other. Emma’s studio phone was ringing in her bag but she couldn’t hear it, all she could hear was the deafening roar in her ears. Liam was here, in New York, in her bar, after all this time. Her first thought was Drake. Had something happened to him, was he here too?

Liam hung up his phone and the ringing in Emma’s bag stopped. She took a cautious step towards him and he slid off the barstool.

“I - I didn’t. I didn’t realize you still worked here, I’m sorry.”

She’d only ever seen Liam speechless one other time. She tore her gaze away, unable to face him.

“No, stay, please. I’m sorry, I was just leaving, Daniel was raving about the hot guy at the bar that I needed to see before I left, he forced me to walk out the front, I never would’ve if I had known.”

She was rambling now, but she couldn’t help herself. There was so much she wanted to say but didn’t know how. The more the thoughts raced through her mind, the more she just wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. Being nice didn’t come easy to her anymore. She didn't even know where to begin, what she could possibly say that would make up for what she did. She doubted that he would believe her, she lied to and manipulated all of them to get what she wanted after the accident. Why would he believe that she had put in the effort to change?

“You look well.” Liam blurted out.

Emma bit her lip. Liam looked like a wreck. She could see the circles under his eyes, the shine faded from them, his shoulders slumped forward. She couldn’t say that though, it was rude to say those things.

“Thanks, you do too. It was good to see you, your Majesty. Enjoy your drink, please make sure Daniel knows it’s on me. Have a goodnight.” She made a dash for the door but Liam was faster, stepping into her path.

“Please look at me Emma.”

She had refused to meet his gaze since he first spoke and now she forced herself to look him in the eye.

“Would you like to stay for a drink? I would like to talk, if that’s alright?”

She shifted her weight, betraying her feelings. She was uncomfortable, and she could see that he was too.

“I promise I hold no ill will towards you Emma, I would just like to talk...for closure.”

She took a deep breath and nodded, setting her bag onto the bar beside her. “That’s the least I owe you.”

He nodded and took a seat again, leaving an empty barstool between them. It started off slow and rough, both walking on eggshells, unsure of how to react to the other. Eventually though, they found a rhythm and Emma apologized profusely to him, telling him that she had changed and explaining the reasons behind that change, the truth spilling out of her. Everything that had happened from the moment she left Liam and Drake standing in that hallway, the moment she walked out of their lives, their friends’ lives and Cordonia forever.

Liam was silent, thinking hard for a couple of minutes before declaring that he forgave her. She felt undeserving of his forgiveness, and told him so, but he said that it was his decision and he was sure he was making the right one. She hoped he was right.

“So that studio..that was yours?”

“Yeah, it’s just a block or so down from here. It makes it easier to work before coming into my actual work.” She explained, laughing at the bizarre coincidence that Liam saw her studio and called her studio phone. She was glad he had stumbled upon it, she didn’t realize how badly she needed to apologize to Liam. She knew that there were other people she hurt, the main one being Drake, but she still felt like a weight had been lifted off her chest.

“It caught my eye when I was walking by because the pictures, they reminded me so much of -“

“Cordonia?”

“Yes and -“ Liam paused, seeming unsure. She knew what he was going to say though. They had strategically avoided any conversation about Drake, that wound still appeared to be raw for both of them.

“And what?” Her voice was firm, challenging him.

“Nevermind.”

She sighed. Liam may have just been doing this for closure but she was doing this because she wanted to be his friend again, so she decided to be honest. “I didn’t realize at first, how much I missed him, missed all of you. How much I’d taken it for granted. It wasn’t until I saw Cordonia, and saw him in my pictures that I admitted it to myself.”

“Can I see them? Your pictures?”

“I’ll be in the studio early tomorrow morning, you could come by?”

“I’d like that.”

They stayed and talked for a while longer, Daniel eventually asking her to close the bar and leaving. Before they went their separate ways for the night, Emma asked Liam nervously, ”Can we stay in touch after you go back?”

He smiled brightly.

//

Cordonia

Liam returned to Cordonia a few days later and knew he needed to bring Drake and Emma together. Even if they didn’t end up together, they both needed the closure. Drake needed it to heal, Emma needed forgiveness and they both needed an apology.

Liam was pacing in his study, hands knitted behind his back, forehead creased, deep in thought.

“Your Majesty.” Bastien greeted as he entered the room.

There was another knock on the door. Bastien opened it to Bertrand and Savannah, both clearly surprised by the summons.

“Good, we’re all here,” Liam stopped pacing and looked each of them in the eye, choosing his next words carefully, “we need to discuss New York.”

Liam recounted his meeting with Emma, her studio, how different she was after being gone for six months.

“Okay, so what’s the point, your Majesty?” Savannah asked with an icy tone.

“Please, Liam.”

“What’s your point, Liam?” Savannah met Liam’s gaze with a steely frown, arms crossed, her feelings for Emma and Liam very clear.

“I think Drake and Emma should speak, face to face. I think they both need closure to move on.” There was a tense silence in the room, the air heavy as Liam’s words hit them all.

“Have you lost your mind? No, absolutely not. She broke his heart, you betrayed him. That woman destroyed my brother and there is nothing you could say that would make me change my mind.” Liam looked down, of course Savannah was right, of course she would defend her brother. But Liam knew this is what everyone needed.

“You weren’t there Savannah, you didn’t see her, didn’t talk to her. You didn’t see the photos! She’s still in love with Drake even if she doesn’t know how to express it. Will I deny that what she did was ruthless? Never. Talking to her helped me find closure though and I think it will help your brother too.”

“Bastien! You have to agree with me, right?” Savannah turned on the guard who looked desperate to be out of that room.

“Savannah, perhaps Liam is right. I never thought you would speak to me again, but Emma helped bring you back into my life and your brother’s, she helped me have our son in my life. Perhaps we owe her this courtesy, to give her a second chance like you gave me.” Bertrand chimed in meekly. Liam smiled, for once Bertrand didn’t put his foot in his mouth around Savannah.

“You didn’t sleep with my best friend and call me a consolation prize though.” She looked pointedly at Liam who looked as though he’d been punched in the gut.

“Wha -“

“Servants gossip, Liam. It’s hard to ignore when the King’s best friend's fiancé walks out of the King’s room and causes a scene. I’ll spare Bertrand and Bastien the details.”

His heart started racing, a thin sheet of sweat covering his face. He couldn’t help but think about how many people in court knew about what had happened now, what they would think of their king. He took a moment to compose himself.

“I won’t deny that I hurt my best friend. I regret it every single day. Despite everything that happened, I still think this is the best scenario for everyone involved.” He replied, managing to sound calm and collected.

“Savannah, I think his Majesty is right. Drake is miserable, I haven’t ever seen him like this, not even when your father died. If he really believes she’s changed then I think it will be good for your brother. I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looked at that girl, the only other time I’ve seen a love like theirs was your parents’. I know you want to protect Drake, I do too, but I think this is what he needs.”

“I want no part of this. Besides, I don’t think there’s anything you could say that would get my brother on a plane to New York to see her.” Savannah said, leaving in a hurry. Bertrand stared after her.

“She’s right, Drake would never willingly go if he knew why.” Bastien said.

“There’s got to be some reason he would go.” Bertrand mused.

“He still cares about Bartie, Savannah and his mother. Savannah won’t help and his mother definitely won’t either.” Bastien thought out loud.

Suddenly, Bertrand questioned, “Bastien, you and Drake bought pictures from Liam’s bachelor party while in New York right?”

Bastien nodded.

“What are you thinking Bertrand?”

“Would he go with Bastien to buy pictures of Bartie? We can tell him the press has photos and we don’t want him in the tabloids but neither Savannah nor I can go. Do you think it would work?” Bertrand asked.

“He’d ask why I couldn’t handle it alone, why we couldn’t do it online.” Bastien said.

“Tell him that it has to be in person to ensure the photographer deletes the photos and that you feel like you need the support, Bastien.” Liam suggested.

“It’s a long shot but it may work. When do you want this to happen?”

“As soon as possible.”

They discussed a few more details and once they left the room, the plan was set into motion. Drake and Bastien were on a flight to New York the very next day.

Tag list: Drake tag list: @notoriouscs @speedyoperarascalparty @andy-loves-corgis @furiousherringoperatortoad @sue9659 @smritysriv @mrsdrakewalkerblog @carabeth @jovialyouthmusic @mrswalkernazario @moonlightgem7 @nikkis1983 @gibbles82 @simsvetements @feartheendlesssummer @drakewalkerisreal @thequeenofcronuts @cgd03

This fic: @marshmallowsandfire @twinkle-320 @ravenpuff02 @ac27dj @silverofdreams @katedrakeohd @masterofbluff @texaskitten30 @kingliam2019 @kimmiedoo5 @tinkie1973 @pipsyliv @choiceskatie

[cherryrogers]

bittersweet {2}

pairing: boxer!bucky x rogers!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of illness + death.

synopsis: The world of boxing wasn’t something you knew much about, but after a certain boxer with blue eyes and an irresistible charm wove his way into your heart, you soon learned that it went far deeper than red gloves and gold medals — you thought that the boxer happening to be your brother’s best friend was bad enough, but darker affairs had only yet to come to light.

a/n: this one is a long one folks,,, i just couldn’t help myself :)) also the italics at the start are a flashback, just in case anyone was confused - please enjoy !!

Series Masterlist

Three months.

It’d been three months since Sarah Rogers passed.

You hadn’t even noticed the date as you plodded downstairs, making your way into the kitchen and praying that your brother hadn’t eaten the last of the bread, eager to make yourself some toast for breakfast.

Steve had left early in the morning, heading off to his first training session at the local boxing gym. You offered to go with him, just for some moral support, but he insisted that you spent the morning in bed rather than sitting in a cold training room.

So, you spent the morning wrapped in a fluffy blanket, basking in the darkness of your bedroom. Tired eyes begging to flutter shut. A sad mind not allowing them to do so. The moment that you let exhaustion subdue you, all you could dream about was her. Laying weakly in the hospital bed, a thin, faded blue duvet hiding the equally thin legs she’d barely used for months. Her brows furrowed slightly in discomfort, lips chapped, bony fingers weakly clasped in her lap. You wanted to reach out to her, take her cold hand in yours and tell her she’d be okay. But the moment your fingertips were about to graze her skin, she’d disappear. Everything would disappear, and you’d be left completely alone.

It hurt less to just avoid sleep all together.

After finding the bag of bread, which had three slices left inside of it, you absentmindedly checked the expiration date on the small tag around the twisted plastic. Grocery shopping was something you and Steve were slowly getting better at doing without your mom around, but that didn’t mean expired, untouched food wasn’t still hiding in your kitchen.

The neutral expression on your face saddened quickly, eyeing the date of expiration written in bold, black letters.

OCTOBER 15TH.

You’d heard the phrase before, that time was only a construct. An age-old system to keep humanity in order. Sixty seconds in a minute, sixty minutes in an hour, twenty four hours in a day... You understood the math, but there was a lot of things about time that you didn’t understand. Like how months could pass in the blink of an eye, yet the hours within them felt like years. How you had spent almost eighteen years being raised by someone you loved so dearly, eighteen years of smiles and laughs and always having a shoulder to cry on, yet the three months you’d been without it all felt like an agonising eternity. How could the science of time explain that?

Suddenly, you’d lost your appetite.

Plopping yourself on a stool, you leaned your elbows against the hard marble countertop, letting your chin rest lazily in your palms. And again, time had lost its structure. For what you thought had been thirty seconds, your eyes stared aimlessly into space, not having anything particular on your mind. You wouldn’t allow yourself to wallow in sorrow. To let a frown sit on your lips for more than a moment. That was what would happen if you thought about her, so you didn’t.

The click of the front door unlocking brought you from your empty trance. Soon enough, your brother was in view, looking at you with curiosity. Dark circles were still evident under his eyes, not as bad as they used to be, however. For the first time in a while, his body didn’t look tensed up. The crease between his normally crinkled brows wasn’t so noticeable, and shade of his irises were... well, they were blue.

Not dark blue, or blueish grey, but a bright, sky-blue. Just like they used to be.

“How long have you been sitting there?” The boy asked, placing his gym bag on the counter.

You glanced up at the clock. Thirty minutes. Not thirty seconds, but thirty minutes you’d been perched on the stool, eyes fixed on nothing.

“Not long.” You responded, forcing the corner of your lips to curl into an unconvincing smile.

Steve only nodded, fiddling with his fingers subconsciously. “You know what day it is, kid?”

Your fake smile faded quickly as you lowered your gaze. “Yeah. It sorta still hasn’t, you know... set in yet. That she’s gone.”

“I know,” The blond rounded the counter, placing himself on the stool next to you. In the corner of your eye, you noticed the slight frown on his face. “You’ve just gotta give it time.”

Time. You weren’t sure what time meant to you anymore.

Sighing, you turned your head to the side, still not looking at him directly, but allowing yourself to see him better. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“For ruining your mood. You look sad; you didn’t look sad when you walked in here.”

“You haven’t made me sad, (Y/N). It just... it’s a hard day. But we’ll get through it together, alright?”

“Alright,” You agreed quietly, feeling better when you saw a soft smile reappear on his lips. “How was it, then? Your first training session?”

Steve’s smile widened, appreciating your interest in the morning he’d had. “Good. Really good, actually. Made a friend, in fact.”

You quirked a brow in response. “Really? Didn’t know you were capable of doing that, Steve.”

“You know, for a moment, I thought you were being nice to me.” He playfully glared at you, unable to pretend to stay mad when you giggled quietly.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” You nudged your knee against his. “You know I love you really.”

“Hm, love you too, kid.” Although his tone had a hint of sarcasm in it, you could tell by his eyes that his words were genuine.

“Anyway, carry on. Tell me about your friend.”

“Well, his name is Bucky-”

“Bucky? Never heard of anyone called Bucky before.”

“It’s a nickname - his real name’s James.”

“Oh, right. I guess Bucky’s a cooler name than James.”

“Great; now that’s established, will you let me talk?”

There was a different aura to Steve that day. Sure, like he said, it was a sad day. Except, it wasn’t like the sad days you’d had over the past three months. The boy wasn’t stuck in his pyjamas, living off black coffee and giving you a half-assed conversation like you’d reluctantly gotten used to. He was... your brother. The brother that you hadn’t truly talked to for a while. The brother that you needed then more than ever.

Maybe it was because of that new friend of his.

“Okay, I’m sorry. Go on, Stevie. What’s Bucky like then?”

* * *

“Steve?”

The blond’s head shot up at the sound of his name, raising a brow at you from across the kitchen counter. Elbows pressed against the marble, chin being held up by your palms. You began to feel a little déjà vu in your current position, fragments of a not-so-distant memory piecing together in your mind.

That was two years ago. Two years since your brother finally stopped pushing you away. Two years since you got your Steve back. You wondered if he even knew how important that day was to you.

“I was wondering...” You started, nervously tapping your shoe against the counter. “Could I come with you to the match tomorrow?”

You’d been putting the question off all week, worried that a slight waver in your tone or a glimmer in your eyes would give everything away. There was even a moment where you considered just not going. Maybe you were getting in over your head - going on a date with Bucky. It was only meant to be a one-off. One makeout. One bit of fun with the hot boxer at the gym.

However, he wasn’t just the hot boxer at the gym. He was Bucky Barnes. The person that other than you, Steve trusted with his life. Steve was a good man with good judgement. If Bucky wasn’t a genuine guy at heart, there was no way Steve would think so much of him. Perhaps the boxer wasn’t going to be just a one-off, perhaps he could be more than that. More than just your brother’s best friend.

All you knew was that the way he made you feel, was pretty amazing. If you felt like that all the time, you sure as hell would be the happiest woman alive. You wanted to feel like that again, and you weren’t sure that there were many guys who could do that for you, not the way that he did.

“You wanna go to Bucky’s match?”

“Well, I know how much boxing and Bucky mean to you - I think it’d be cool for me to get an insight into this side of your life.” You weren’t actually lying; Steve had always kept the boxing part of his life separate from you. He knew fighting could get brutal sometimes, and he dreaded every time you’d have to see him with a black eye and bruises scattering his skin.

Steve didn’t fight as often as Bucky did, but he liked the competition every once in a while. He always went to his best friend’s matches, though.

The blond nodded, retrieving a fork from the utensil drawer and placing it into the bowl of noodles he’d made for you. “Okay, sure. I’ll pick you up at six.”

“Okay.” You quietly sighed in relief as the bowl was placed in front you, and you quickly lifted some noodles into your mouth to hide the wide smile threatening to overcome your face.

The boy moved over to the sink, delving his hands into the soapy water and beginning to wash some dishes. A breathy laugh left his lips. “I just can’t believe you hadn’t met him until Monday. College must be keepin’ you busy.”

“Believe me, it is,” You slurped a noodle into your mouth, causing your brother to scrunch up his nose at you. After moving out and starting college, it was hard enough for you to hang out with Steve, nevermind meet any of his friends. “He seemed nice.”

Nice. It sure was nice when his hands were sliding under your skirt-

“Nice?” Steve snorted, making your knit your brows together in confusion.

“Yeah? Why’s that funny?”

“I mean, he’s not an asshole. Must’ve cleaned up his act since he knew he was talkin’ to my sister. Last time I tried to interrupt his training, he almost knocked my teeth out,” He chuckled at the memory. “He’s only nice when he wants something - usually if he’s tryin’ to chat up a girl.”

Restraining yourself from choking on your noodles, you tried to muster out a nonchalant reply. “You think he was chatting me up?”

“Kid, if I thought he was gonna try something with you, his match tomorrow would be the least of his worries.” Oh. “But he told me he’s takin’ a girl out after the match, so I don’t think that there’s anything to worry about.”

Shit. He told Steve he was going on a date? Was he trying to expose the both of you? Maybe he wasn’t as paranoid as you were about the whole ordeal, but you were confident that your paranoia was perfectly justified.

All in all, for the moment, everything was fine. You were going to the match, and you were going on a date with Bucky - Steve wasn’t suspicious. Everything was fine, and everything would be fine.

Hopefully, you could say the same after Friday.

* * *

There was a reason you tended not to hang out with Steve and Peggy.

Not that you didn’t like Peggy, as she was one of the kindest women you’d ever met, and she was perfect for your brother. However, trailing behind them like a lost puppy as you were guided through the gym wasn’t exactly ideal.

You’d never been to the main room before where the proper boxing ring was. It was a lot larger than you’d imagined, and the dimmed lights made it hard to actually, well, see anything.

Steve turned around, taking your forearm and pointing you over to a row of seats closest to the ring. “We’re gonna go find Bucky before the match starts, you wanna sit down?”

“You’re leaving me alone? Why can’t I come with you?” You asked, the numerous amount of strangers surrounding the room making you nervous.

“Someone has to make sure no one takes our seats, kid,” He shrugged, patting your shoulder gently. “We won’t be long.”

Before you could even begin to object, the couple walked away from you, weaving between bodies and eventually leaving your sight.

“Asshole.” You muttered to yourself, crossing your arms over your chest.

Sighing, you quickly paced over to the seats and plopped yourself down on the one furthest to the left, the cold plastic causing goosebumps on your bare thighs. You’d worn your best skirt that night, one that made you practically exert confidence. You were ready for the match to start, ready for it to finish, and super ready for your date with Bucky.

Well, that was if he won.

The thought alone of seeing him again in his boxing attire caused a blush to coat your cheeks - a white undershirt, grey shorts, sweaty, glowing skin, his biceps flexing as he threw a punch, back muscles tensed... fuck. If the night ended without you being able to kiss him again, you’d be pretty disappointed.

While in your daze, another figure took a seat next to you before giving your shoulder a nudge. The contact made you jump a little, but after turning to face whoever just invaded your personal space, you couldn’t help but let out a confused laugh.

Peter Quill had made himself comfortable next to you, hugging a box of popcorn against his stomach as he sent you cocky smile. Oh, lord.

You’d met the guy at a party in your freshman year of college, and you might’ve made out with him for a little while at said party. Easily the dumbest drunken idea you’d had, since the boy never left you alone after that night. However, you liked Peter. He was good company, sometimes. When he wasn’t making stupid jokes and generally be annoying, you were sort of glad you’d locked lips with him that night.

Not that you’d ever do it again. The thought alone made you grimace.

“Peter?” You raised a brow at him. “What’re you doing here?”

“I’m here to watch the match, obviously,” He replied in a ‘duh’ tone, causing you to glare at him. He extended the box of popcorn out to you, waving it in front of your face. “You want some?”

“I’m good, thanks,” You pushed it away, turning your body to face him better. “I didn’t know you were interested in boxing.”

The boy chuckled, flicking his fringe out of his face. “Well, I actually do a bit of boxing myself. I train here on the weekends.”

“Seriously?”

“Uh huh. How d’you think I got as ripped as I am, (Y/N)?”

“Clearly not by your diet,” You nodded your head towards the large box in his hands, causing him to mumble something about Fridays ‘being a cheat day’. “So, do you know my brother?”

“Your brother?” He questioned. “Who’s your broth-”

“Quill,” God, dammit. “You have five seconds to stop talking to my sister before I drag you outta that seat myself.”

A groan fell from your lips, looking up to see Steve with his eyes narrowed at the boy next to you.

“Steve, it’s alright. We go to college together.” You assured him, seeing Peter’s puzzled expression in the corner of your eye.

“Wait... you’re Steve Rogers’ sister?” His eyes darted between you and your brother before shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth. “Well, I’ll be damned. Never knew you were a Rogers, (Y/N).”

“It’s been longer than five seconds...”

“Alright, alright, I’ll leave.” Peter huffed, getting up from next to you and beginning to walk away. You mouthed an apology to him, feeling bad that your brother had scared him away, just like you were sixteen and back in high school.

Steve only sighed contently, sitting down where Peter previously was and motioning for Peggy to sit on the other side of him.

“You know, there was no need to do that.” You uttered, jutting out your bottom lip at Steve, who scoffed at your annoyed expression.

“You can do better than Quill, kid. Trust me.”

“Oh my god, I’ve been friends with him for almost a year. He’s harmless,” You elbowed him lightly, lowering your head and smirking as you mumbled your next words. “Joke’s on you, though; I already made out with him last year.”

Steve had a harsher glare on you than he had on Peter. “Are you serious right now?”

“Uh huh, and I’ll do it again if it irritates you that much.”

“(Y/N), I swear-”

“Shut it, the both of you,” Peggy warned, instantly making you and your brother zip your lips. If there was one thing you admired about Peggy, it was that she never took anyone’s shit, including yours and Steve’s childish squabbles. “The match is about to start.”

After sharing a mutual ‘I’m still annoyed with you but I’m sorry’ look with your brother, you both laid your eyes on the ring, which now had a bulky man standing in its centre. His voice in the microphone bounced off the walls of the room, and hearing him introduce Bucky to the ring sent a shiver down your spine.

Cheers and whistles erupted in the crowd, which you didn’t even realise was so large until you took a moment to analyse the filled seats as much as you could in the faded light. Steve shouted out a supportive ‘you’ve got this, Buck’ from next to you, and your heart skipped a little as your eyes landed on the boxer.

Those fire truck red gloves covered his hands again, squishing slightly as he punched them together while he psyched himself up. This time, however, his top half wasn’t hidden behind a piece of clothing, and dear god, that man had definitely been carved by the Lord himself.

The referee was introducing the opposing boxer, but you weren’t remotely focused on what he was saying as your eyes travelled the surface of Bucky’s torso, deciding that you never wanted to see him in a shirt again. Ever.

Eventually, you flicked your gaze up to his face, and heat pooled in your cheeks as you saw him looking right back at you, blue eyes twinkling under to harsh lights above the ring. A smirk played on his lips, probably having noticed you practically drooling over him. Before he was handed his mouth guard, Bucky sent you a wink, and you were incredibly grateful that your brother was too busy whispering in his girlfriend’s ear to notice - disgusted, but grateful.

The other boxer had a scowl on his face, glaring hardly at Bucky as they both got into position, ready to fight. Anticipation arised in your body, hoping that the following forty minutes would consist of Bucky kicking ass so that he could get you out of the club soon after.

And well? Your wish was happily granted.

You had to reapply your lip-gloss quickly towards the end of the match since you were constantly biting on your bottom lip as you watched Bucky in his element. Sure, he took a few hits here and there. But by the end of the match, you couldn’t shake the smile from your face as you watched Bucky raise his hands in victory, the crowd cheering even louder than at the beginning.

The sound of chatter filled the room as everyone started to get up from their seats, and as you pulled the strap of your small clutch over your shoulder, you felt a nudge on your upper arm.

“You want a ride home?” Steve asked, still noticeably annoyed from your last conversation, but there was a softness to his tone.

You shook your head as casually as possible. “Thanks, but I’m going out tonight. Nat’s gonna pick me up.”

Tell Natasha about the hot boxer you’d got yourself a date with, you noted to yourself, realising you hadn’t even mentioned him to your best friend yet because of the sheer paranoia that Steve might somehow hear it from her.

“Oh, alright,” He nodded. “Where you goin’?”

“Just a party.” You shrugged, earning yourself a sigh from your brother.

“Okay, well no alcohol, kid. It destroys your liver.”

Peggy backhanded his arm gently. “Steve, she’s not a child. Let her be.”

“Drinking age is twenty one, Peggy. The girl’s not drinking.”

“The girl has a name, you know,” You groaned, crossing your arms. “I won’t drink, alright? Now get outta here - Natasha will be here soon.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve took a step towards you and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, squeezing you lightly. “Be careful, and text me when you’re home.”

“Will do, Stevie.”

* * *

“(Y/N)?”

A voice calling your name startled you as you turned around, clutching a hand to your chest. Breathing out in relief, you couldn’t help but curl your lips at the sight of Bucky. While he was no longer shirtless, the look he was styling now was one you’d also love to have him never change out of. Ever.

Bucky was freshly showered, making his hair look softer, and the beads of sweat that previously formed on his hairline had been cleansed away. The dark blue shirt he wore fitted perfectly on his figure, tucked neatly into a pair of black jeans, while a black quilted jacket sat on his shoulders, pulling the look together.

“James,” You greeted him, pushing yourself off the wall of the corridor. “Congratulations on your win.”

“Thanks, gorgeous,” He grinned, stepping towards you and putting a hand on the small of your back, guiding you through the doors of the gym out into the parking lot. “Would’ve been real disappointing if I lost.”

“Yeah, it would’ve,” You nodded, leaning into his arm as the cold air breezed past your skin. “Because I’ve been looking forward to this date, you know — are you gonna tell me what we’re doing?”

“Aw, how sweet.” He smirked, earning an eye roll from you. The boxer lead you over to his car, where he opened up the passenger door for you, allowing you to slide into the comfortable leather seat as he whipped around to the driver’s side.

“And to answer your question...” Bucky shuffled in his seat before starting up his car. “Well, have you ever been to the Fall Carnival?”

Memories of a time far, far back resurfaced in your mind. Crinkled leaves. Loud music. The sweet scent of pumpkin spice. “When Steve and I were kids, our mom used to take us every year. Even if it was pouring with rain, that woman would power through and take us there anyway - even when all the rides were closed, she’d take us just so we could each win one of those massive teddy bears on one of the stalls.”

You let out a laugh, fondly reminiscing on the tradition that had slipped your memory until now.

Bucky smiled empathetically, having knowing what happened to your mom after being Steve’s rock since he joined the boxing club. “Sounds like it was real fun.”

“It was,” You nodded, playing with the silver bracelet on your wrist absentmindedly. “As we got older, though, Steve and I would just go by ourselves. We thought she just didn’t want to parade around a carnival with two teenagers anymore, but... well, that’s when she started getting sick.”

God. This was meant to be your first date with Bucky, and you were already spilling your heart out to him. Not that you didn’t like talking about your mom, but you didn’t want to put a damper on the mood of your date.

“Steve talked about her a lot,” Bucky spoke up, causing your gaze to flick up to him. “Your mom... she sounded like a great woman. Wish I could’ve met her.”

“I think she would’ve liked you, Bucky.”

Bucky. You realised that you’d just referred to him by his nickname, but it just felt right in that moment. To Steve, the guy who brought him out of his funk and helped him become the man he is, was Bucky. Not James, but Bucky.

“So,” You chuckled, noticing the soft smile that had formed on Bucky’s lips at your words, but deciding to end the conversation about your mom on a positive note. “You gonna win me some stuffed animals tonight?”

And his signature smirk had crept its way back into his face. “Only if you win me some too. I’ve already had one win tonight, Rogers. S’only fair to balance it out.”

“Okay, fair enough.” You leaned back in the car seat as Bucky pulled the vehicle out of the parking space.

It didn’t take long to drive to the carnival, and the car ride was rather pleasant. There wasn’t a lot of conversation, but as you hummed along to the melodies playing from the radio and Bucky tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, conversation wasn’t really needed.

After arriving at the enterance of the carnival, Bucky enveloped your hand in his as you walked through the different rides and colorful stalls, eyeing the prizes at each one of them so you knew which games were worth playing. Shrill screams and hearty laughter rang all around you, coming from the families and young couples that seemed to be populating the area. The smell of pumpkin spice soon entered your nose, and it immediately brought a strong wave of nostalgia with it.

A light squeeze on your hand brought your attention back to Bucky, who was almost beaming down at you.

“So, I was thinking,” He started, pulling a curious expression onto your face. “Maybe we could engage in a little... friendly competition.”

You took your bottom lip between your teeth, a little confused, but intrigued. “And what does this competition entail, James?”

“We, are gonna go to every stall here and each play a round at the games. By the end, whoever can collect the most prizes for the other person wins.”

“Wins what, exactly?” You challenged.

“Anything they want,” The boxer smirked. “I’ll let you know when I win.”

With a scoff, you yanked your hand from his grasp and placed both of them on your hips, a confident expression plastered on your face. “Bold of you to assume that you’re gonna win.”

“Bold of you to assume I ever lose, (Y/N).”

“Alright, you’re on.” You smiled, turning your back to him as your eyes darted around the grand selection of games for you to play against Bucky. Skee-ball, the ring toss, whac-a-mole... all games you’d destroyed Steve at as a kid.

This was going to be fun.

And so, the competition began. Grasping onto Bucky’s hand, you proceeded to guide him all through the carnival, determined to make his boxing win the only win he got that night.

You started off on a bit of a winning streak, defeating Bucky at the balloon shooting game and other stalls that required patience and mental strategy. A smug grin sat on your lips as you passed the boxer a large, pink teddy bear with a white bow around its neck, which he took reluctantly. Confidence was surging through you at that point, however, it was soon about to be crushed as you got round to the physical games. Not that you weren’t considerably strong, but Bucky was a boxer. He was definitely at an unfair advantage.

By the time you got to the high-striker, the final game, you were tied. Bucky smiled fondly as you clutched the abnormally large hammer in your hands, eyes narrowed in focus, before you struck it down on the lever as hard as you could. The puck shot up to around the half way point, before falling back down with a clink. During Bucky’s turn, however, the guy hit the lever with a lot more force, causing the puck to spring up and trigger the bell at the top to ring, indicating his success.

Now it was his turn to smile cockily at you, handing you an enormous, soft stuffed penguin as you attempted to bite back a grin.

“What did I tell you, babydoll? I never lose.”

“Alright, James. You win,” You sighed, unable to stop your smile widening. The both of you must’ve looked ridiculous - at least ten stuffed animals, large and small, were tucked under each of your arms. The abundance of fluff and warmth was helpful in keeping the cold away from your body, but you needed to put the damn things down. “How about we put the stuffed animals in your car, and then you can tell me what you want your final prize of the night to be?”

The boxer nodded slowly, and the two of you took a stroll back to the car until you reached your destination, him being immodestly proud of his win against you. Bucky helped to take all of the stuffed animals out of your arms and did his best to fit them all in the trunk, along with the many you won for him.

After shutting the trunk, Bucky turned to you, lips curling up as his eyes swept over your face.

“Can I tell you somethin’, Rogers?”

You nodded, feeling your heart rate speed up a little from the question.

“Steve... he’s my best friend. You told me the other day that you didn’t like hidin’ stuff from him, and trust me, I don’t either. I was thinkin’ that this wasn’t such a good idea, takin’ you out.”

The boxer saw a glint of worry appear in your eyes at his words, and quickly reached forward to grab your hands in his.

“But, I’ve been trying to find a flaw in you, (Y/N). Anything that might be a sign we shouldn’t be doing this. And... and I can’t. Every time you told me somethin’ about yourself tonight, I only wanted to find out more about you. Not Steve’s younger sister, but you, (Y/N) - I wanna know you more.”

God, he looked so perfect under the moonlight. Baby blue’s trained only on you, soft lips parted slightly, a light stubble on his jaw that you wanted to trace your thumb across. A few small cuts and bruises on his face from the fight, barely beginning to heal, but not taking away any of his beauty in the slightest.

You wanted to know him too. Not just Steve’s best friend, but him, James Buchanan Barnes.

“I guess I wouldn’t mind getting to know you better, James,” You took a step forward, pressing your hands against his chest. “Is this your way of asking for a second date?”

“Maybe,” Bucky teased, snaking his arms around your waist. His eyes lowered to your glossy lips, subconsciously leaning towards you as he inhaled a nervous breath. “Is is alright if I...”

His voice trailed off when his lips began to brush against yours, and within a second, he was kissing you.

The kiss was different to your first. It wasn’t hungry, or fuelled by lust. But gentle, meaningful. Signifying the start of something you weren’t at all expecting, but eager and excited to pursue.

The moment was one of those moments, where time didn’t follow its usual rules. Because you swore that when your lips met his, time completely stopped. The world around had paused, and all that was left to play out was the intimate moment that you and Bucky were sharing.

Reluctantly, you pulled back, your nose just grazing his. Time proceeded to continue, the blaring music from the carnival able to be heard again, the coolness of the air hitting you once more.

“Your prize, Bucky,” You said quietly, drawing circles on his chest over the soft material of his shirt. “You still haven’t told me what you want for your win.”

Chuckling, the boxer simply tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “That’s okay, gorgeous. I think I just got my prize.”

Well, fuck. That one made your heart swell.

Your mind wandered back to Steve. Could there be any way he’d be fine with you and Bucky? Would there be any sort of outcome where he didn’t end up hating you?

The answers to those questions weren’t clear, but one thing was - you wanted to take your chances with Bucky Barnes, because when he kissed you, it suddenly wasn’t about your brother anymore. It didn’t matter if it was wrong, on your part or Bucky’s. All that mattered was that this was what you wanted.

And if Steve didn’t like that? Well, that was a bridge to cross when you got to it.

It was bittersweet, really. On one hand, your heart ached from lying to the blond you’d been through hell and back with. But on the other, your heart was positively melting at his best friend’s charm.

Bittersweet. Yes, that was the perfect word to describe it.

[hatterflii]

Historically inaccurate platonic Remile fanfiction

Hello! Thought I might post this, since it’s pretty old. Times were hard. Emil was constantly working, blessing souls that were far gone and praying for those who barely had any hope of survival. As a priest, it was his job to cure the abundance of sick townspeople, and today was no exception. Today, similar to the days before, Emil was to sit in the warm hospital and watch as the ill lumbered in from the cold outside, each with the same problem and the same needs, all wanting something different. He would always put on a warm smile and help them the way he knew how, feed them a brew of strong herbs, ask his lord to have mercy on their poor soul, and when it came to it, he would have to do his least favourite part of his job, let out their impure blood with a blade. The same routine went on for hours, uttering words to the lord until his throat was sore, burning his fingers making tea, comforting dreary peasants, and grimacing as he had to dig at their skin and watch as the blood drained into a pewter bowl. When the sun started its colourful decline, Emil decided it was time to sort and pack up his supplies. As he packed, the sky turned a devil red and the sun slunk down to the hills, ending another tiring day. Before Emil had finished, a tall man in a cobble grey cloak hobbled in, head down, smelling of sickness and mould. His dark hair was slicked to his sweaty forehead, breathing ragged. As the figure limped up to him, he could hear a deep rasping voice. “You, are you the doctor?” The man spoke, lifting his blank stare to meet Emil’s concerned eyes. The priest hesitated. He was supposed to pack up at this time, but the young man looked so helpless, shaking with every uneven breath he took. “Well?” He rasped, “I didn't walk all the way over here for nothing, did I? Wheres the doctor?” Emil stared up at the man, then spoke in a soft voice, “I am a doctor, Do you need my assistance?” “What does it look like! Do you think I wobbled in here just to say hi? Help me!” the man plopped himself onto one of the spare beds, resting his sweat-drenched head on a feather filled pillow. Emil looked down upon the man with an uncomfortable gaze, a small frown tugging at his lips. “I was about to pack up,” He replied, “Maybe you could come back tomorrow when we are open. I would be happy to treat you then.” The man scoffed, “Do I look like I could last another day? C’mon, you’ve got to help me, my head feels like it's bashed in, and all my limbs are on fire. Help me. Please.” His voice lowered to a pleading whisper, salty tears forming in the corners of his bloodshot eyes. Emil gave way to the dramatic man with a sigh, taking a few bottles and jars from the cupboards. As he took out the various herbs and books, he went through the usual questions. “What name do you use?” “Remy, its… its a family name.” He gulped as Emil placed down the last of his supplies, a red-stained bloodletting knife. “Well, Remy, how long have you been feeling ‘like your head has been bashed in’?” The man in question pondered for a moment, clicking his tongue in thought. “‘ ’Bout a week? Maybe more. To be honest, I've started to lose track of time, being cooped up inside day and night.” Emil let out a surprised sound, turning to look at Remy’s tired face. “How did you get here? You should barely be able to speak, let alone walk all the way out here!” remy scoffed, smile playing on his chapped mouth, “Well im not the doctor here, you'd be the best person to answer that.” He didnt wait for the doctor to answer, “I walked, It took ages. Nobody wanted to help a sick peasant, one look at me and they're sprinting to the other side of the path.” Emil started piling up the necessary components, grimacing as he held the various dead animals, some parts missing from their limp bodies. He grabbed a bottle of brown liquid, gently tossing it onto the cot Remy occupied, along with an onion and a few mystery plants.

going to post part 2 soon.

[reddogf13]

Escape: Aftermath Ch: 13

Waylon X Eddie

Summery: After escaping the hell that is mount massive, Eddie and Waylon had been patching them self's to fix the damage. Murkoff however is not willing to release patients that easy. A new Murkoff CEO is hell bent on getting their two experiments back.

status: complete

rated: M - fowl language, sensitive topics, and gore

previous chap: Escape: Aftermath CH: 12

next chap: Escape: Aftermath CH: 14

_____________________________________

~Ch:13 Separated~

Waylon and artisan tiredly came through the door. Greeted shortly by Beth, who was cooking dinner of hamburgers. Artisan laid down on the couch with a tired huff as Waylon went to check dinner and speak with Beth.

“you guys okay? I could hear gun shots from here.” Beth asked with concern.

“yeah, just a small chase and a adrenaline rush. so how was Eddie?” Waylon asked, hoping he wasn’t trouble.

“he panicked a little while after you left. Tried to leave a couple of times. Didn’t get far though with his hurt leg before I had him go back inside. Then he went upstairs to silently mope. Or at least I think hes up there, he mite have jumped out the window.” Beth said while turning over the cooking patty’s. By the look on Waylons face he was obviously not amused. Since he figured it would be something Eddie would do after he was gone for so long.

“i was only joking. I am sure hes just up there moping. Now do you want cheese on your burgers?” Beth said with a joking tone.

“yeah, ill be back after I check on Eddie.” Waylon said, heading for the stairs. Waylon came into the room to find Eddie sitting at the end of there bed with his back towards the door. “hey Eddie, you okay?” Waylon asked softy as he walked over. Eddie stayed silent as he ignored Waylons presence. Waylon paused for a answer, sitting down next to Eddie when no answer came.

“i promised id be back, and I am.” Waylon quietly spoke with a smile. Eddie let out a annoyed grumble. Which reminded Waylon that he had to give Eddie more cough syrup for his throat. “I am still fine.” Waylon said to him.

“you were shot at.” Eddie growled in his gravely voice.

“like that’s new.” Waylon said.

“that’s not the point. I wasn’t there to watch you. Make sure that nothing happened.” Eddie said, standing.

“artisan was there to help if something went wrong.” Waylon said.

“what good is he?” Eddie huffed. Waylon sighed, Eddie was stuck in his protective ways. No way hed trust anybody with protecting Waylon, not even Waylon himself.

“Eddie at some point you'll have to let me go and-” Waylon spoke, interrupted mid sentence.

“never.” Eddie growled as he looked at Waylon. For the obsessive love Eddie was known for Waylon thought his word was intimidating. Would Eddie ever be able to give Waylon freedom with peace at mind. Most likely never at this moment.

“you'll have to someday.” Waylon said, standing to leave the room. While Waylon walked down the stairs he thought of how maybe he was developing a false sense of security with Eddie. It was easy to see how nonthreatening he was when hes horribly injured with a almost crippled leg. Would Waylon still see him the same when Eddie was fully healed and able to fight and kill again?

“burgers are done!” Beth called out as Waylon reached the bottom of the stairs. Artisan didn’t seem to notice, being asleep on the couch with his arm over his eyes.

“so was he moping in the room?” Beth asked when Waylon entered the kitchen.

“yes, except now he isn’t happy with me.” Waylon said while preparing his and Eddies burgers.

“just bring him food and I am sure he'll forget.” Beth said before throwing a small spice bottle at artisan, startling him awake. “foods ready.” Beth said to artisan, who was half awake.

Waylon grabbed a glass of water with a dosage of cough syrup going with the plate of burgers to take up to the room. Artisan walked up to the counter, bushing his hand through his hair to help himself wake up.

“when should we go again to spy?” artisan asked.

“i was thinking after dinner.” Waylon said as he stirred the cough syrup water.

“what? Why so soon?” artisan questioned.

“i had an idea while out in the woods. The fire starter is massively heavy. There are rickety rotting bridges near by. If we lure it over one and it breaks through, it could be destroyed by the fall. Or at least horribly crippled to the point of being useless for Murkoff.” Waylon said.

“well okay, but still so soon? Shouldn’t we at least take a day to plan first? Find a good bridge to use. A way to lure it there. Whats plan B if Murkoff ruins the plan or if that thing doesn’t fall for it.” artisan pointed out.

“murkoff wouldn’t get involved. There setting up there little camp and will assume the fire starter will get us anyway. The only bridge that will work is the one crossing that steep cliff area with the shallow river. Its too rotten for anything heavier then a person to cross, and I can lead it. I am fast, I can make it to the bridge and to the other side before it can hit me.” Waylon said.

“i don’t think that’s a good idea.” artisan stated in displeasure.

“look, we have to do this. That thing gets closer and closer each day. Tomorrow it will have burned a path fully to the house. Then what? Murkoff will probably see this house and what to check it since its the only one out here by itself. We have to do this tonight.” Waylon said. Artisan let out a long sigh.

“... go tell Eddie what your idea is. I am sure he'll be just as thrilled as I am of it.” artisan said with a sarcastic tone. Waylon dismissed artisans tone as he brought the food and glass up stairs. Eddie was sitting down on the bed again when Waylon came in with everything.

“i brought food.” Waylon said a little nervously as he thought about telling Eddie the plan. Eddie let out a little grumble to acknowledge Waylon. Waylon set down the food on the bed before holding out the glass of syrup water to Eddie. “i got more cough syrup for your throat.” Waylon said. Eddie glared at the glass, displeased he had to take more medicine.

“i am fine.” Eddie said, refusing to take the glass.

“please take it Eddie. It'll help you heal a bit.” Waylon said, still holding out the glass.

“i can heal on my own just fine without some crappy syrup that tastes like shoe polish.” Eddie growled.

“will you just take it. It wont harm you to drink it.” Waylon said, starting to get annoyed by Eddies stubbornness. Eddie growled again before taking the water and grumbling about something. Waylon smiled and sat by him grabbing a burger to eat as Eddie guzzled down the glass in one sitting.

When the glass was set down Waylon handed Eddie a burger. Eddie took a bite as soon as it was handed to him.

“probably to remove the “shoe polish” flavor from the water.” Waylon thought as he watched Eddie quickly eat.

“as soon as Waylon thought to tell Eddie his plan. His appetite was entirely lost, being replaced with nervousness and nausea.” Waylon stopped eating, thinking of what to say. He would wait till Eddie finished before telling. When Eddie gets angry he wont want to eat anymore, although he should. Eddie noticed Waylon stopped eating and sensed his nervousness.

“what is it?” Eddie asked as he stopped eating as well. Waylon froze up for a moment.

“nothing.” he said quietly.

“what is it??” Eddie repeated.

“its nothing Eddie.” Waylon said, a little aggravated. He had hoped they’d finish eating before fighting.

“you're going out again?!” Eddie angrily asked.

“yes.” Waylon sighed in defeat. Eddie furiously got to his feet.

“when are you leaving?! Tomorrow morning?!” Eddie demanded to know.

“no.” Waylon said quietly. The nausea growing inside him.

“in 2 days, three days, when?!!” Eddie growled, demanding a answer.

“sooner then morning.” Waylon spoke.

“YOU'RE LEAVEING TONIGHT!! AGAIN?!” Eddie blew up in fury.

“we have a plan to kill it and it has to be done TONIGHT Eddie!!” Waylon stood up angrily in defense.

“NO!! I AM NOT LETTING YOU!! ILL FUCKING DO IT MYSELF!!” Eddie yelled as he walked towards the door.

“EDDIE you can't go out!!! EDDIE!!” Waylon yelled at him only to be ignored. Eddie left the room now stubbornly walking down the hall despite the massive pain it probably caused his shredded leg.

“GLUSKIN YOU BETTER GET BACK IN THIS ROOM RIGHT NOW!!” Waylon yelled from down the hall. Him Demanding Eddie return in vain as Eddie headed down the stairs. When Eddie reached the bottom Waylon latched onto his waist to try and stop him or make him fall, anything to try and stop him.

“get off!!” Eddie snapped at Waylon as he continued twoards the door. Fighting Waylon all the way.

“artisan, stop him!!” Waylon yelled as he pushed against the carpet to slow Eddie. Artisan went up to grab him, barely dodging a knife swinging at his face.

“get away from me you worthless maggot!!” Eddie growled. Slightly stopped for a moment.

“you wont make it out there you stubborn moron!!” artisan growled back at him.

Eddies plan of escape was now turning towards a fight with artisan as he turned away from the door slightly, knife in hand. Waylon tried to yank him back, letting go when Eddie let out a painful yelp. Waylon thinking he had forced Eddie into hurting his leg opened, backed away to look for damage.

He found no damage but a pink fuzzy tranquilizer dart in Eddies right side. Eddie yanked it out, looking at it and then glaring at Beth holding a gun.

“you shot me.” Eddie angrily slurred and unsteadily turned around towards her. Falling soon after and blacking out.

“Where'd you get the darts?” artisan asked.

“me and dad used to live in the mountains. We had a horrible black bear problem during the spring. So dad got this. Each dart has enough to take down a adult black bear. Sorry I shot him, didn’t know what else to do” she said the last part being directed to Waylon as a apology.

“its alright. I don’t think anything else would have stopped him. Probably for the best before he hurt himself.” Waylon said, checking Eddies stitched leg. The stitches held, but the scabbing was ripped open to bleed a bit.

“help me take him back upstairs artisan.” Waylon said as he held up Eddies front end while artisan grabbed his legs to carry. After putting Eddie back in bed everyone was meeting downstairs.

“how long will he be out?” artisan asked.

“about three hours, give or take. The tranquilizer was for bears, not people. So he mite be out twice as long.” Beth said.

“alright so we have 3-6 hours to do this plan. If we succeed then what?” artisan said.

“we should move. Its not safe here anymore. Murkoffs camping close by and will eventually find this place. Pack everything now and be ready to move if the plan works.” Waylon said, taking some pills for his headache.

“and go where?! Even if we did have a place, we cant just run out there after knocking off Murkoffs living flame thrower. They'll be buzzing everywhere after that, looking for us. It would be stupid to play leap frog through that for a new place to stay. Unless Beth has a idea.” artisan said.

“i only have my friends places in mind, but they wont be safe for you guys.” Beth said.

“ … I met someone who said he could get us out of the city.” Waylon said.

“what? Who, and where? When??” artisan questioned.

“in the forest, a few hours ago. They said they could sneak us out, and Beth can go to her friends.”

“sounds too good to be true.” artisan said, feeling skeptical of the situation.

“mite be, but with all 3 of us we can take him if we need to.”

“i don’t trust that. You also seem to forget that one of us has a busted leg and crispy arm.”

“the only think that stopped him moments ago was a dart to the side!” Waylon pointed out.

“still, you’ll be pushing our luck with rushing him into a fight. Lets relocate somewhere safer for now. Then we meet up with whoever you met to talk and asses the situation. We're already rushing into our current plan, we shouldn’t go rushing off with unknown strangers. I most certainly am not.” artisan said firmly and asserting his position on the plan.

“fine, lets get going then. While Eddies still asleep and the fire starters out. Beth, you go and hunt us a place to stay.” Waylon said as he got ready to leave.

“gotcha.” Beth said as she headed out behind them.

Both teams split, Beth running to find a new safe spot while artisan ran with Waylon. Planning to lead the fire starter to the rotting bridge and hopefully destroy it with no complications. It was no trouble finding the fire starter with the thick smell of gasoline, smoke, and burning wood flowing through the air. The two hid behind a mostly burnt tree to plan there next move.

“you know where to find the bridge?” artisan whispered.

“no, but I know where that steep canyon is. Eddie and me passed it while getting to the city. When I get to that I can probably find the bridge.” Waylon whispered back.

“greeeat.” artisan said with heavy sarcasm. “so how will you get its attention?” artisan asked.

“shoot it in the head. And ill run out.” Waylon said.

“shooting its head is going to make it angry.” artisan stated.

“i know, that’s the point.” Waylon said.

“alright, your funeral. Get ready.” artisan said as he loaded his gun.

Artisan leaned out from behind the tree, aiming before shooting twice. Hitting the monster twice in the head, barely leaving a few small holes. The creature turned quickly with loud clicking gears. Or as quickly as it could with its massive weight.

Waylon ran out from there hiding place, spotted by the creature. It let out a deep growl with the strong smell of gas wheezed out before shooting out a massive wave of flames across the trees. Waylon was just out of range from the flames, running by the creature towards the canyon.

The creature followed in a quicker pace then its usual speed. Making enough noise to sound like a loud bulldozer. Despite its slowness, Waylon still had to keep far ahead or be burned with its far reaching flames. Waylon ran quickly making sure now and again that the fire starter wasn’t losing him. He made it to a dark road and stopped to catch his breath, panting heavily.

He was startled into running again as the trees behind him burst into flames. He hoofed it down the road, hearing the loud clanking of the creatures metal legs on the hard road. When ever it tried to burn the road, the suffocating smell of burning tar filled the air. Waylon stopped in front of the canyon, catching his lost breath and waiting for the slow creature.

Now Waylon had to quickly decide which way to go. The road split into two directions down the side of the canyon. One way lead to the bridge, the other just went deeper into the woods. Waylon decided to follow the right road. It was towards the city, which meant bridges were more likely to be around there. That also meant he would be heading towards the area Murkoff was working around.

Running was getting more difficult as this road just seemed to keep stretching on. He couldn’t afford to stop with the threat of being burned. The engine was burning in the back of his skull once again. The stress on his body lately causing it to burn alive with the annoying consistent buzzing. If he kept this going he would start suffering from the worser effects.

He ran down the darkened road till he met up with artisan at the large rotting bridge over the canyon. He was barely able to talk with the lack of breath he had. Panting heavily to catch himself up.

“what are you going to do now?” artisan asked quickly.

“ill lead it across, you stay.” Waylon said, pausing in the middle to breathe.

“your out of breath, you wont make it.” artisan said.

“no time to change plans.” Waylon said, looking back at the approaching monster.

“just don’t stop till you're the other side. Remember that.” artisan said before going off to hide. Waylon nodded to him before running up the edge of the bridge. The fire starter wheezed in a breath before blasting fire across the front of the bridge. Waylon felt the flames brush by his back, almost searing him, as it passed by.

The flames spread quickly across the parched rotting wood. The flames were crossing the bridge faster then Waylon could. Waylon stopped as flames in front of him grew wild as it hit a sudden dry patch of moss growing on the bridge. Waylon whipped his head back as he heard groaning from the fire starter.

Each of the monsters steps bent the old wood. Flying embers up from the creeks of the burning boards. It stopped and took another deep wheeze. Waylon knew he had to take a risk and jumped through the large flames.

His heart stopped momentarily as he found a sudden drop. The boards on the other side had collapsed and broken off in the fire. Waylon managed to grab onto a ember brightened board, missing a cloud of flames pass over his head. He flinched back, shutting his eyes at the bright flames over head. Ignoring the burning sensation on his hands from the hot ember covered board that barely hanged on.

When the flames were gone Waylon hurried to get up onto a more stable part of the bridge. Watching the fire starter as it stalked closer to the edge. It wheezed in another breath, one Waylon wouldn’t be able to escape. Before it could spread another burst of fire, its weight could not be held anymore.

The rotten burnt boards snapped like twigs under its weight. It fell with a burning chunk of bridge. Smashing into a rocky part of the canyon side. Exploding in a huge wave of flames from the pressured tank bursting open on the rocks. The creatures body turning into falling red hot pieces of metal and burnt meat.

Waylon would never forget the disgusting bitter smell of gas mixed with burning human meat. Waylon couldn’t stay long as his bridge half began to groan under his weight. He got off the bridge watching the rest of it fall into the canyon.

“are you alright?!” artisan yelled from across the canyon.

“i guess.” Waylon yelled back with what little breath he had.

“how do we get you back?” artisan asked.

“find the other bridges. I guess? Or walk around.” Waylon said.

“walking around could take hours.” artisan said. Both paused for a moment as the sound of approaching cars and trucks were heard down the road.

“leave! Murkoffs coming. Ill get around somehow.” Waylon yelled before running down along the canyon.

“eddies going to be pissed.” artisan yelled before splitting away from the canyon.

[wantstoflyafraidtofall]

Chapter 2: New Old Thoughts

***TRIGGER WARNING*** Mentions of homophobia/homophobic language and past self harm

---

Dean wakes up in a cold sweat yet again. The black shadow he saw thought he saw plagued his dreams every night since he's been there. Which was odd. He usually doesn't dream at all.

He rolled out of bed and peeled off his boxers and shirt, both damp with sweat, and turned on the shower.

The warm water -- with amazing water pressure, dare he say -- soothed his nerves. He would have to search up if frequent nightmares were normal for people moving into new houses later.

After getting dried off and dressed, Dean went downstairs and turned on his old coffee machine. He watched the dark coffee drip down into the pot.

The deadline for unpacking really helped speed up the whole process and the amount of sleep he was getting helped to.

By what Sam had said about Cas, he sounds ok. Just a quiet guy who's fresh out of college and needs a place to stay for a bit.

Dean had finished unpacking the rest of the boxes yesterday. He had saved the library for last and the whole time his knee was a bitch. But he had to say, now that it’s done, It looks really nice.

He poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot and went out into the large, mostly empty sunroom. He was going to have to get some furniture to fill all the floor space so they could sit and read or watch TV in here. Maybe a bean bag and a couch.

The morning sun shone brightly through the windows of the room, casting soft shadows in corners and the shelves. The backyard was really nice and big but over grown. The stones in the fire pit had weeds growing out the cracks and the fish pond would kill any fish that would dare swim in it. The grass was almost knee length and would be a complete bitch to mow. Maybe he could get Cas to do it. Complain about his knee hurting or something.

Dean went back in the kitchen and poured himself a second cup of coffee. He checked his watch, 9:34am. Sam had told him Cas would be there around 10:30, which left Dean almost a full hour to do whatever he wanted.

He does enjoy his time alone but is quite excited for a housemate. He would never admit it to anyone but the house was getting a bit lonely and now that he has everything unpacked, he would guess it would be boring as well.

Bubbles covered Dean's hands as he washed the few dishes remaining in the sink. He wanted to make a good first impression on Cas by having the house clean and was using it as a pass time to cool his nerves.

He’d just put the last plate in the cabinet when the doorbell rang. Dean quickly walked over to the door, running his fingers through his hair before opening it.

Dean was surprised at the man he saw standing outside. He was wearing a tan trench coat over an ill fitting suit with a messily done blue tie. His hair was dark and messy, as if he had just rolled out of bed. A 5 o’clock shadow adorned his sharp jaw. Dean’s eyes moved up his face, and met a pair of eyes that were more blue than the deepest parts of a sunny sky.

Cas cleared his throat before asking, “Are you Dean Winchester?”

Man, that voice . It was deep and sounded as if he had been gurgling gravel every day since he was 12. Dean quit his staring and smiled at Cas.

“Yup, that's me,” Dean beamed, “And you must be Cas.”

Cas squinted a little harder and tilted his head slightly to the side at the use of the nickname.

Dean took a step back, opening the door wide. “Come on in, you have 3 choices in rooms but I recommend up the left stairs at the end of the hall.”

“Thank you.” Cas said as he passed Dean and began walking towards the stairs, his suitcase rolling behind him. The man glanced around as he walked, carefully observing the wooden structure of the house.

Dean closed the door and went into the library and grabbed Soul Enchilada off his shelf of favorites. He laid out on an old love-seat in front of one of the windows and began to try and read.

He read a few lines before starting over. His mind was wandering elsewhere, to his handsome new housemate that would be living with him for who knows how long, how that deep, rumbly voice had said his name earlier, eyes of azure, streaked with cruelan and sky blue.

He thought back to how when he met those eyes, they seemed to stare deep into his soul. The small twinge of annoyance when Dean had used the nickname ‘Cas’ and how he had tilted his head ever so slightly to the side, his plush, lightly chapped lips barely parted. They looked so soft, so kissable. It would have been so easy to have just- NO.

Dean caught his slipping thoughts. Internally scolding himself for not only falling for his new housemate, but a guy.

After closing the book and placing it back on the shelf, Dean went upstairs to his room, into the bathroom, and locked the door behind him. He lifted his arms in front of him, using his right hand he nudged the sleeve of his flannel back and felt his thumb drag over the small, criss-crossing scars on his forearm.

He released a shuddering breath. He is such a disappointment to his father. It was wrong for him to love another guy and no matter what he did he couldn't stop. No matter how many times Dad had taken out his anger on his “disgusting faggot of a son” he couldn't stop the thoughts.

Dean pulled his sleeve back down and looked into his own green eyes in the mirror. He could almost hear Sam's voice saying it with him as he whispered to himself, “Dad was a bastard and a terrible father. You can love whoever you want, Dean, It’s ok.”

Dean had been so careful to hide the scars from Sammy, but one day at Bobby’s place he had his sleeves pulled up to his elbows so he had better access inside the car and little, 13 year-old Sam saw the scars and asked what they were about.

It wasn't until a few months before Dean was leaving for the military that he had told Sam why he had those scars. And Sam just hugged him and told him that it was ok and that he would always love him. Damn, he loves that kid.

Dean sighed. No hitting on hot roommate dude. He could be straight and Dean isn't going to 1) Make him uncomfortable while he stays here, and 2) Get in a relationship with… well, anyone. Not like anyone wants to be in a relationship with someone as broken as him anyway.

When Dean made his way back downstairs, he saw Cas standing in the library examining the books with curiosity.

“Hey Cas,” The sound of Dean’s voice caused the man to turn towards him, “I'm going to go on a grocery run. Is there anything you want?”

He stared at Dean for a moment before replying, “The ingredients for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches is all, Thanks.”

Dean chuckled, “You know, you're out of college now, you can eat some actual food.”

“I'm not a good cook in the slightest and I'm sure I will like some of the stuff you buy.”

“K then, see you later.” Dean grumbled, grabbing his keys and closing the heavy front door hard behind him.

He walked down the steps and started Baby, Bon Jovi’s Wanted Dead or Alive pouring out the speakers. Dean turned up the music and drove down the driveway.

The trip to the store was short and uneventful. He grabbed the stuff Cas asked for along with some stuff to make dinner for the next week(He also got some greens because Sammy would give him another 3 hour lecture on his diet if he didn’t).

Kevin was working again today, somehow looking even more bored than last time. He scanned Dean's groceries while Dean asked about what classes he was taking.

Kevin had told him he was going to be a freshman and was studying computer sciences so he could make enough money to support himself and help support his mom.

Dean said goodbye to Kevin and loaded his groceries into Baby's trunk. The ride home was smooth and fast. Cas was nowhere in sight when he got home and Dean guessed he was probably in his room.

After unloading all the groceries, Dean pulled out two plates and began making lunch. He decided to keep it simple with some PB&Js and some potato chips. He put Cas’s plate on the island with a glass of water and made his way up the stairs to his door.

He knocked on the wood. “Hey Cas, I made some lunch for ya. It’s in the kitchen if you want it.”

There was no reply but he heard a faint shuffle of movement on the other side of the door. Dean went back downstairs and took his plate outside to the small shed in the backyard. The door was unlocked and swung open when Dean pushed.

Inside there was an old workbench pushed against the back wall. Gardening tools hung on hooks drilled into the wall and a slightly rusty lawn mower sat in the corner. He brushed some dust off the workbench and placed his lunch on the wood before checking out the mower.

It looked functional but in need of some repairs. Nothing that Dean couldn't fix himself with the right tools. He checked the drawers of the workbench and found the things he needed to fix the mower and began to work, eating his sandwich as he did.

Dean was so focused on sharpening the lawn mowers blades that he didn't hear Cas’s footsteps approaching from behind.

“Dean?” Cas called?

Dean jumped, startled by the sudden noise.

“Sorry for startling you Dean. I wanted to thank you for lunch.”

“Yeah, no problem buddy.” Dean replied, “I'm making chicken for dinner tonight if that's good with you.”

“Yes that's fine. Thank you.”

Cas left and Dean finished sharpening the lawn mower blades, leaving them on the workbench to attach tomorrow. He picked up his empty plate and headed back inside and dropped it in the sink.

Dean took a package of chicken breasts out of the fridge and placed them in a bowl. About 10 minutes later, the chicken was breaded and in the oven and he began to prepare the potato salad.

He loved to cook. When he was young, his father would drag Sammy and him from motel to motel. All they ate was take out or greasy diner food. Dean does love some good greasy burger and fries and a beer every once in a while but nice home cooked meals were always better.

Once Bobby took them away from John and his abusive parenting style, Dean learned to cook his own food in an actual kitchen. He would wake up early to make breakfast and insist on making lunch and dinner as well.

Dean pulled the chicken out of the oven and set some plates on the counter. He jogged up the stairs to Cas’s door, careful to be light on his bad knee, and knocked.

“Dinners ready!” He said before making his way back to the kitchen and filling up his plate with potato salad and sweet corn. He could hear Cas enter the kitchen and grab the other plate.

“It looks great, Dean,” Cas observed, “Thanks again.”

Dean set his plate down on the table and grabbed some cups from the cabinet before replying, “Yeah, it’s no problem, really. Do you want anything to drink?”

“Just water please. I haven't had anyone cook a proper meal for me since high school and I could never make one for myself due to my inability not to burn the food.”

Dean chuckled, “After my mom passed I didn't get a good meal till I was around 15, and those I would make myself.”

Cas stared at him, “Oh, I’m sorry.” He took the water Dean held out to him.

“Nah man, it’s fine. It was a long time ago.”

They continued to eat in silence for a while till Cas asked Dean, “You were only given 3 days notice that I was coming, yet you have the entire house unpacked and cleaned.”

“I, uh, didn’t sleep much. I wasn’t sleeping well so I made the best of a bad situation and used the time I was awake to finish unpacking.”

They both finished their meal in silence. Dean placed his dishes in the sink and grabbed a beer from the fridge. He sat back down at the table and looked over at Cas.

“So, tell me a bit about yourself.”

Cas’s blue eyes meet Deans. “I am 23 years old. I have an English major and plan on becoming a journalist. I have 6 siblings, 4 brothers and 2 sisters. I grew up in Colorado but moved to California for college, where I met your brother.”

“Hold on. You have 6 Siblings?” Dean gaped

“Yes, Dean. Micheal, Lucifer, Uriel, Gabriel, and Naomi are older and Anna is younger than me.”

“Man sibling rivalry must have been intense.”

“Our arguments were like war backed with all of heaven's wrath.”

Dean bursted out in laughter at that and took another drink of his beer. Cas stared at him with that adorable little head tilt squinting at him as if confused by Dean laughter.

“What about you?” Cas asked

Dean stopped laughing and looked at Cas, “My name is Dean Winchester. I am an Aquarius. I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach, and frisky women,”Cas stared at him for a moment before Dean continued, “My mom passed when I was 4. I lived with my Dad if you could call what we did living for about 10 years until I was taken in by Bobby and Ellen. I worked as a mechanic with Bobby while Sam went to college until I decided to go to the military. I was there for 5 years until my knee got messed up and I was sent home.”

“Sorry, that must be horrible.”

“Nah man, it's fine. You get used to it and move on.”

“Is excessive drinking part of moving on?”

Dean stopped smiling and looked away from Cas. They sat in silence for a moment before Dean said, “Well I'm a bit tired, gonna head to bed.”

“Ok, Goodnight, Dean. I will clean up.”

He stood and left the kitchen. He was looking angrily at the ground in front of him as he went up the stairs. He didn't look up until he heard a quiet hissing in front of him.

The blood rushed out of his face and fear coiled in his stomach. It was back. The dark shadow was standing in the middle of the balcony. Dean couldn't get his legs to move. He was stuck. The shadow began to slowly glide towards him, reaching out a long arm-like appendage. He wanted to shout, to cry out for help but his mouth was just as stuck as his legs.

A rush of frigid air washed over him as it drew nearer. The black tendrils of its translucent arm reaching to his side, like it was going to push him over the railing.

“Dean, do you have any tupperware for the extra food?” Cas called from the kitchen.

Dean blinked and the shadow was gone. He shivered as the air began to warm up around him. Dean cleared his throat before replying “In the drawer by the fridge.” He ignored the slight shake in his voice.

When he tried to take a step forward, his feet moved like nothing had happened just seconds before. Dean went into his room and locked the door behind him.

Sleep. That's what he needs. He's just tired and that's making him see things. Everything will be fine tomorrow.

(If you want to be added to the tag list, just ask!)

@stuff-that-is-other

[noahsfreckles]

Keeping Secrets from Strangers (chap 2)

The next morning I wake up to my alarm; 10:15am. I love my late schedule. I grab my phone off my side table and check my notifications.

1 mention from browneyedboy

4 texts from Lexi 🤪

1 reminder: you're awesome.

I open the texts first.

Lexi 🤪: where are you? @ 7:30am

Lexi🤪: oh yeah it's Friday late day. I h8 u. 😘😘 @ 7:34 am

Lexi🤪: get your lazy butt up and stop dreaming about you know who @ 8:14 am

Lexi🤪: remind me why I decided to take an 8 am lecture class I'm falling asleep

I quickly reply her.

Mia: Oh shush you're just jealous 😛

Mia: and who would I be dreaming about 🤔🤔

Mia: because it was the only time it was offered and you need it for your degree

Lexi🤪: his name starts with Noah and ends with Centineo

Mia: I am not dreaming about him shut up!

Lexi🤪: 🤥🤥🤥🤥

Mia: 😑😑😑

Lexi🤪: stop lying and get here I'm lonely ☹️☹️

Mia: stop texting then dork

Lexi🤪: 🤐🤐🤐🤐

Mia: you're still texting me.

I start laughing at our conversation and get out of bed. I go over to my closet and start deciding on an outfit for the day. I grab my white ripped jeans and a black t shirt with my black vans.

I quickly put everything on so I can start on my hair. I do a simple pony tail with some of my bangs hanging down. I look in the mirror and grab my eye liner, quickly and carefully put it on. I'm not really a make up wearer but I love eye liner.

I grab my bag from my chair and walk over to my side table, grabbing my laptop, unplugging it and grabbing the charger from the wall. I grab my phone from the bed and slide it in my back pocket.

I head down the stairs and see my mom in the kitchen.

"Hi honey."

"Hi mom, can you grab me an orange juice and the blueberry muffin, I'm running a little late and I blame Lexi," I laugh a little.

"Was she texting you again?"

"Yes, always making me late," I joke as she hands me the orange juice and a container containing the muffin. "Thanks mom," I kiss her cheek and head out the door.

"Bye honey," she says as I shut the door.

I get to my car unlocking it as I get closer, my baby; a black Jeep Compass. I quickly get in and head to school.

💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋

After a boring day at college, Lexi and I are on the way to my place to get ready for Neon's.

It's our weekly ritual while everyone is still in town to go to the local bowling alley. It's always Lexi, me, Josh, and Cami, but sometimes Jake, Haley, and Tyler come back tonight but tonight they can't make it.

"Hey, who's this?" Lexi asks as my phone lights up with a twitter notification. "Are you cheating on me with", Lexi, looks at the notification, "browneyedboy?"

I just look at Lexi and start laughing, "they're just a random person I was talking to last night, before bed."

"So you are cheating on me!" Lexi excitedly says.

"No, baby I love you." I move closer to Lexi and side hug her, "forgive me?" I look at her and give her puppy eyes.

"I guess," she says and rolls her eyes.

"I saw that."

"Saw what?"

"Your eye balls rolling into your brain." I laugh a little.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

I move away from her and grab my phone and open twitter to see what browneyedboy said when I remember I never checked to see what they said this morning.

'@browneyedboy: morning Mia. Hope you have a good Friday.'

'@browneyedboy: hey Mia, what's up?'

'@heyitsmia: not much just hanging out with @heyitzlexi and getting ready to go bowling. What's up with you?'

'@browneyedboy: not much just hanging out at home bored, hi Lexi.'

"Browneyedboy says hi Lexi," I say looking up from my phone.

"Tell the Mia stealer hi," she jokingly says.

'@heyitsmia: Lexi says hi. You should come bowling with us if you're so bored'

'@browneyedboy: really? I don't want to impose on you and your friends.'

'@heyitsmia: you're not imposing, the more the merrier. Come!'

'@browneyedboy: how about I think about and maybe text you and tell you I'm on my way or there?'

'@heyitsmia: um sure.'

'@browneyedboy: or I could just tweet you sorry, I shouldn't have asked for your number we barely know each other.'

'@heyitsmia: hey it's okay.'

'@browneyedboy: ill just tweet you if I decide to show up.'

'@heyitsmia: okay hope to see you 🙂'

A blue banner comes across my Twitter: Noah has tweeted. I click on it right away.

'@noahcent: asked a girl for her number and got rejected ☹️💔'

"Aww Noah just got rejected," I say as Lexi is fixing her hair in my mirror.

"Aww Noah," she says and makes a sad face.

I look through his replies, "oh my god his replies are filled with numbers."

"Really?"

I just nod my head and exit out of twitter and open Snapchat, I get off the bed and walk over to Lexi, taking a photo of us and tag it with 'going to Neon's'.

I close the app and toss my phone on the bed and start getting ready. Lexi moves over the bed and grabs my phone.

"So what do you know about your new lover?" Lexi says as she opens the Twitter app.

"Honestly not much, I haven't even stalked his twitter yet. Why?"

"Just curious. Wait he asked for your number?" She says loudly.

"Yeah," I look at her in the mirror, "he automatically said he didn't want it afterwards so I sorta got rejected even though I said he could have it."

"Would you have given it to him?" She looks at me curiously.

"I don't know, maybe."

"Maybe we should find out more about him before we give a random guy your number from the internet."

"Yeah," I bite my lip and walk over to the bed with her. "So what do we know from his twitter?"

"Well he's had it since 2016 and has 10k tweets. He doesn't have a selfie as a display picture but it's a picture of a cat. The cat is cute," she shows me the photo.

"Very cute."

'@heyitsmia: I think your kitty is too cute @browneyedboy 🐱💕'

"Lexi!"

"Yes my love," she giggles.

"Why?"

Blue banner comes up: @browneyedboy replies to you. Lexi clicks it.

'@browneyedboy: Thanks his name is Stuvi, like stew vee.

'@heyitsmia: aww too cute.'

Lexi gets out of the mentions and goes back to his account, "hey you can kinda see his hair in pic."

"Really?"

Lexi nods and shows me the pic again.

"Hmm," I say then look at the time on top of the screen, "we gotta go Lexi it's almost seven."

"Oh crap." She says and closes twitter and looks the phone before handing it to me and we head out to Neon's.

💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋

Lexi and I come back from Neon's around midnight. We change into our pajamas. We get into my bed, she rolls over and gets comfy as I grab my phone to do my night ritual; Snapchat, instagram, and Twitter.

Nothing too interesting on Snapchat, so I move to Instagram. I go through my feed, liking and commenting on different people's pictures and videos. I start typing in Noah's name in the search bar when I decide I just need to follow him and turn on his notifications so I don't miss anything from him.

He posted a new picture today.

Asked for a girl's number and got reject. Girls are mean.

I aww at the photo and like it. I click follow and turn on all his notifications. I close Instagram and open twitter.

'@heyitsmia: you awake? @browneyedboy'

'@browneyedboy: yeah what's up?'

I bite my bottom lip, looking over at a sleeping Lexi and decide what can it hurt. I click the envelope on my Twitter app and it opens up the direct message.

To: browneyedboy

'213-555-1362'

I hover over the send button then click it. I close the app and hope he understands. I plug in my phone and turn off my lamp.

My phone begins to vibrate as I receive a text.

213-555-0139: hi

Mia: hi

213-555-0139: why did you give me your number?

Mia: I wanna be friends and you said you didn't want it after I said I would give it to you.

213-555-0139: thank you 😊

Mia: I have a question.

213-555-0139: I have an answer 😋

Mia: what's your name? It's not on your Twitter, at least I don't think.

213-555-0139: Jamey

I quickly add him to my contacts; Jamey🐱

Jamey🐱: now I have a question; what's my contact name? 😎

I laugh a little at his question.

Mia: Jamey🐱

Jamey🐱: I like it. Meow.

I laughs a little causing Lexi moves and I freeze. Lexi stops moving and I let out a small sigh.

Mia: 😹

Mia: I should go to sleep. We can talk tomorrow more if you want.

Jamey🐱: sure. Night Mia. 😎

Mia: night Jamey🐱

I close iMessage and set my phone down on my side table, I cuddle the blankets and falls asleep.

A/N if you want to read this on Wattpad or ao3 links are in my bio. I post there faster than I do here.

[sweetiepie08]

Get Cool (Chap 2)

Based on @sharpace‘s knife shoe au.

Miguel loves to skate and he loves competing at skating, but he wishes he had more chances to skate with the rest of his team. The opportunity arises when his team is invited to perform a group routine at a charity showcase. However, when half his team suddenly falls ill, they are forced to either pull their performance or combine with their rivals, the De la Cruz team.

“The classics are boring. Everyone’s heard them a million times.

“The classics are classics because they’re classic. They’re timeless. That’s why people keep using them.”

“You want to be just like everyone else? No wonder your team never stands out.”

“What do you want to use? Some pop song that’ll be on the radio at least fifteen times today and forgotten by this time next year?”

And just like that, they were back on the bench. They’d done three days of running drills and perfecting their best moves. The coaches said it was because they were working with a new group of kids and needed to see what they could do. That was all well and good, but Miguel suspected it had more to do with the fact that they couldn’t agree on a song. Pfft, forget song. They can’t even pick a genre.

“I thought the point of the team up was to be ready for the showcase in time,” Justo grumbled.

“You’re surprised?” Martin replied. “They waste time on drama when they’re separated. It’s not exactly shocking that they can’t work together.”

Miguel was afraid this might happen. He knew the other boys were just as sick of this as he was. Everyone hated waiting around for their coaches to stop arguing under normal circumstances. Now that they were forced to share the ice and the team… Still, they had to stop and pick something soon, right? They couldn’t possibly argue for three weeks straight, could they?

At the very least, he couldn’t let the already-waning team morale drop. He slapped a smile on his face and turned to his teammates. “They’re just perfectionists is all,” was Miguel’s dubious excuse. “I’m sure once they agree on music, it’ll be smooth sailing.”

“But then they have to agree on choreography,” Carlos put in. “And then they have to agree on the line-up, then on costuming, and then…”

“It’ll get done, I’m sure,” Miguel assured them. “They want to look good at the showcase just as much as we do.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Antonio asked.

“We’re already down three days of practice,” Justo added.

“We haven’t really skated together,” Carlos threw in. “What if we don’t develop a good team chemistry?”

Finally, Martin said what everyone was thinking. “If we don’t get started soon, we’ll look like idiots in front of everybody!”

At least the team is on the same page. Miguel opened his mouth to try something more encouraging, when Marco slammed his hands on the bleachers with a resounding clang. He grumbled a couple of swear words Miguel wouldn’t dare say in public (lest they somehow got back to his Abuelita), and got up to walk away.

“Where are you going?” Miguel asked. “We’re in the middle of practice.”

“I’m going to find something to do that’s not a complete waste of time,” Marco snarled, then stormed off to the locker room.

“Why’d you have to make the ‘looking like idiots’ comment?” Justo grumbled, giving Martin a pop on the arm.

“It’s not my fault he’s so sensitive,” Matrin hissed back, rubbing his arm.

Sensing something was off, Miguel turned to the two of them. “Do you guys know what’s wrong?”

Justo let out an irritated sigh. “He always gets like this when he’s worried about a performance.”

“He thinks we don’t notice,” Martin added, “but we do.”

This was news to Miguel. The way Marco and his crew swaggered around the rink, you’d think they were born with their names imprinted on gold medals. “Maybe I should talk to him,” he said, hopping off of the bleachers.

“You can try,” Justo scoffed, “Just don’t let him bite your head off. We can’t afford to be down another skater.”

Miguel smiled and rolled his eyes at the comment, then made his way to the locker room. As soon as he opened the door, he heard music playing. It sounded familiar, in fact he heard it a million times coming from his mom’s little cd player while she did chores or worked on shoe designs. “Is that West Side Story?” He asked,

Marco practically jumped out of his skin as he fumbled to shut off his phone. “No! Shut up! Get out of here, Rivera!”

“It is!” he laughed as the musical interlude in Get Cool cut off mid-note. “My mom loves that movie.”

Marco shoved the phone back in his pocket and turned away. “Yeah, so? My mom likes it. So what?”

“I like it too,” Miguel said, trying his best to convey I’m-not-going-to-tease-you-about-this through his smile. “I’ve watched the movie with my mom a bunch of times. Have you seen it?”

Marco stiffened and gave a curt, “maybe.”

“It’d be cool if we could do something like that for the show.”

Marco looked up. His shoulders relaxed just a little. “You think?”

“Yeah, maybe it’d be cool to do the beginning, with the Sharks and the Jets dancing in the streets.”

“That could work,” Marco said, his face starting to light up. “Of course we’d have to cut the song down to accommodate the acceptable routine time for the showcase.”

“Of course,” Miguel agreed.

Marco almost smiled, but then his face dropped. “Our coaches will never go for it.”

Miguel smirked mischievously, dimple on full display. “What if we didn’t give them a choice?”

“What are you talking about?”

“We can get together with the rest of the team away from the coaches,” Miguel suggested. “We can vote on a song, and then we’ll make the cut ourselves. We’ll submit a copy of our music to the showcase people before our coaches get the chance to say no.”

A wicked grin grew across Marco’s face. “Rivera, are you suggesting deception? I always thought you were such a goodie-goodie.”

Miguel shrugged. “I’m a Slytherin. How squeaky clean can I be?”

“The Harry Potter reference undercuts it some,” Marco deadpanned, but his smile suggested he meant it playfully. “How are you planning on getting the team together.”

“Well, I was actually hoping for a sleepover.” Miguel looked away and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve actually never been to one before. Except, I don’t think my house would work. Santa Cecelia is about an hour and a half away and…”

“We can do it at my house,” Marco said as if it was already a done deal.

“Really?”

“Yeah, we don’t live far and I think I could get Ernesto to agree.”

“You think? Ernesto doesn’t seem like the sleepover-host type.” Miguel tried to imagine Ernesto De la Cruz entertaining a bunch of kids but the picture refused to come together in his mind.

“We’ll call it a team building exercise and promise not to interrupt his beauty sleep.” Marco dismissed. “Besides, my mom’ll be there and I know I can get her to say yes.”

“Alright, sounds like a plan.”

“Let’s go tell the others.” Macro brushed past him and headed for the doors. Before exiting, he stopped and turned back to Miguel. “Does it really take you and hour and a half to get here?”

“Almost.”

“Geez, no wonder you guys never take the early ice.”

[-]

When Marco and Miguel stepped out of the locker room, the rest of the team was already putting their skates on and getting on the ice.

“Where have you two been?” Imelda demanded, skating up to the side of the rink. Hector and Ernesto followed close behind.

“We’ve been taking and we think we need a team building activity to bring up morale,” Miguel said.

“What kind of activity?” Hector asked.

“I was thinking a sleepover,” Miguel answered. “It’d be good to get the whole team together to do something fun.”

“I already said we could do it at our house,” Marco added. We can take Miguel to practice tomorrow too, since you guys live so far.

“Our house?” Ernesto nearly shouted. “Maco, I don’t want to watch all these…”

“My mom’ll be there too,” Marco cut in. “And we’re not babies. We’ll probably just watch movies until we go to bed.”

“Which we promise will be at a reasonable hour,” Miguel added, trying to put on his best, most sincere smile. He made sure to show off the dimple side which he thought made him look more innocent.

Hector and Imelda looked at each other like they were having another one of their mental conversations. “I don’t have a problem with it,” Hector finally said.

“Neither do I,” Imelda agreed, “if it’s okay with Ernesto.”

Ernesto chewed his bottom lip and his eyes darted from Marco, to Miguel, and to Hector & Imelda. Mgiuel held his breath. This looked like it could go either way, and he didn’t want to say or do anything that might jeopardize it.

“I know Stephanie Tassinari’s team does it all the time.” Marco threw out. “I saw it on her Instagram.”

Ernesto sputtered out, “Why do you think I care what she does?”

Marco narrowed his eyes pointedly and flashed a smirk. “Isn’t she the American lady who you’re always…”

“Fine!” Ernesto said, throwing up his hands in defeat. “Okay, we can have the sleepover, but you’d better keep it down and go to bed when I say, alright?”

“Got it!” Marco said, then grabbed Miguel’s hand and pulled him away before the coaches could change their minds.

“You won’t even know we’re there,” Miguel tossed over his shoulder.

They put on their skates and went out onto the ice to tell the others. Miguel felt like he could jump the length of the rink. He was finally going to have a team sleepover. If they could just manage to keep the team from falling apart, this might actually turn out okay.

[-]

The boys were gathered in Macro’s living room. They were surprisingly quiet for bunch of 12-13 year olds but that was mostly because none of them wanted to ruin the plan by breaking one of Ernesto’s rules. They were allowed to go in the living room, kitchen, and bathroom. If they needed something out of Marco’s room, Marco had to be the one to get it. They were, under no circumstances allowed in Ernesto’s office. They could not adjust the volume on the TV and if he found a single finger print on his trophies the next morning, they would all be doing extra workouts.

At present, they sat scattered on the floor or the couch facing Marco and Miguel. Miguel held up a large whiteboard (which Marco got out of Ernesto’s office before the sleepover started, so they weren’t technically breaking any rules), while brandished a marker like a top military strategist.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” Marco said, tapping a marker on whiteboard. “Our coaches are acting stupid. We’re going to make them not stupid.”

“How are we going to do that?” Martin asked.

“By taking matters into our own hands.” Marco popped the cap off of the marker and began writing a numbered list. “First of all, they won’t pick a song, so we did,” he said as he wrote pick song next to the number 1.

“We’re going to vote on it, though,” Miguel added.

Marco rolled his eyes. “Right, we’re going to vote on it. Miguel and I already have a good idea, but we can see if anyone has sometime better. After the vote, we’re going to make a cut of the song together.” He wrote cut song next to the number 2. “At the next practice, one of us is going to sneak into the sound booth and play the song while the rest of us take turns showing off our best skills.”

“What if the coaches try to stop us?” Carlos asked.

“Skate over them.” Marco turned back to the board. “The last step is that we’ll send the music in for approval before the next practice.”

“Without telling the coachers?”

“They can’t pick a song, so we’re picking for them,” Marco said matter-of-fact.

“We know it’s not the most honest thing to do, but we need to do something to get the practices back on track.” Miguel added. “Maybe if we prove that we’re taking this seriously, they’ll start taking it seriously.”

“And if they’re going to act like whining babies, we’re going to treat them like whining babies,” Marco finished, crossing his arms.

“So what’s your idea?” Justo asked.

Marco looked at Miguel and nodded his head toward their small audience.

“You know West Side Story?” Miguel began, “We were thinking of doing a cut of the opening. It’s modern enough that Ernesto will be happy, and it’s a Broadway classic, so Hector & Imelda will be happy. Plus it’s all instrumental, so we don’t have to worry about the show runners not liking a lyric or something.”

The boys all agreed and no one had any ideas they wanted to put forth, so they took an official vote and their music was chosen. The problems came when it was time to cut the music. Miguel was the only one who’d ever cut music before and the other boys didn’t know where to begin. Marco tried to help, but he knew Miguel had a better ear for music, so, he gave Miguel a set of headphones and told him to have at it.

The other boys might have felt a little bad about leaving Miguel to do all of the work, but he didn’t mind. Choosing music was one of his favorite parts of starting a new routine and his Tio Hector had been letting him cut his own music all year. He actually enjoyed sitting in his room with his headphones and coming up with new mixes, even if they were one’s he’d never get to use in a performance. Plus, as soon as he was done, he could join the rest of his team, who at the moment were browsing through Macro’s movie collection.

“It almost done?” Marco asked, sitting down on the couch next to him.

“Just about.”

“Cool. Hand me the laptop when you’re done so I can send the file.” Marco went quiet for a minute then said, “You know, this is pretty okay.”

“What do you mean?” Miguel asked, not looking up from the laptop.

“I’ve never hung out with the team outside of practice before.”

Miguel stopped and slid his headphones off of his ears. “Never?” Macro couldn’t really mean never, could he? Miguel didn’t get the opportunity to hang out with his teammates as much as he liked to, since he lived so far away, but he still got to have fun with them some of the time. Sometimes, Hector and Imelda let him hang around to get something to eat and he spent plenty of time with them at away meets. One of his favorite memories was of the time he and Antonio ran around the hotel late at night looking for a working ice machine and kept running into an older couple trying to do the same thing. Had Marco seriously never done anything like that?

Marco shook his head. “Ernesto says I shouldn’t have too many distractions. If I want an Olympic gold before I’m 18, I need to focus.”

“Why 18?”

“Well, youngest Olympic gold in figure skating ever was Yulia Lipnitskaya in 2014 at age 15.” Marco said, beginning to fidget with a loose string on the end of his t-shirt. “It used to be Tara Lapinski also at 15, but Yulia beat her by a few days. I’ll be 15 in only 3 years. I don’t think I’ll be ready by then. But youngest men’s is 18. I think I can beat that. But then, the youngest medalist in men’s figure skating got bronze when he was only 14 and that’s 2 years away. What if I wait too long and only get bronze?”

Miguel bit his tongue. He was sure Marco didn’t need to be reminded that Mexico doesn’t always participate in the Winter Olympics. “You know, most kids our age are worried about math tests and stuff.”

Marco’s back stiffened. “I am not most kids.”

“That’s kind of what I mean. We’re already doing a lot of stuff most kids only dream of. Why do you need to break records? It’d be cool and all, but not if it’s killing you.”

“Who said it’s killing me?” Marco said, looking away. “And I need to break records because I need to prove I’m the best.”

“In the world? Why do you need to be the best?”

Marco looked at him like he just suggested eating his skates. “If you’re not trying to be the best, what’s the point of doing anything?”

“Uh? Fun?” Miguel tried.

“Yeah, well you can have plenty of fun going to free-skates,” Marco shot back. “Why do you it, then? If competition’s not important to you, why are you up in the big leagues?”

“I love skating,” Miguel answered honestly. Really, he couldn’t think of a better reason. “I’m really good at it. I like competing and I’m lucky enough to be related to top notch skating coaches. I know most kids don’t get these opportunities and I’m happy just to have the chance.”

“That’s a cute sound bite, Rivera,” Marco scoffed. “I’m sure the media would love it. But it’s not going to get you very far in the real world. My primo Ernesto would have gotten the first Olympic gold in skating for Mexico if not for his injury. He didn’t get that far on niceties and motivational phrases your abuela would stitch onto a pillow. He worked hard and pushed himself to be the best.”

“My Tio Hector says Ernesto got his injury because he pushed himself too hard. Athletes need to know their limits.  That’s what my coaches always say.” Miguel held his breath as he waited for an answer. De la Cruz’s famous injury was a touchy subject with fans. He knew bringing it up with an actual relative was about as smart as punching a cactus with your bare hands.

Still, he couldn’t help himself. He remembered when was just starting out, how he idealized De la Cruz. He would always complain to his Tio Hector about how boring the basics were, how he wanted to push himself harder and “seize his moment” like De la Cruz. Hector and Imelda taught him about how “seizing a moment” you aren’t ready for can lead to some very serious consequences. Now, it seemed like Marco could use that advice.

Miguel waited to have his head bitten off, or for Marco to get up with a muttered curse word and leave him in the cold. Neither of those happened. Marco chewed on his lip and stared at the wall for a minute before finally replying, “Cute.”

Miguel let himself breathe again. “It’d look pretty good stitched on a pillow,” he said with a teasing smirk.

Marco smirked back and smacked Miguel with a cushion. He then looked across the room at the other boys where an argument erupted over action vs horror. “Come on,” he said, getting up. “They’ll never get anywhere without our leadership.”

[-]

Miguel was practically shaking in his skates the next day when practice started. Justo had already snuck off to the sound booth and now they were just waiting for their cue. The team kept shooting glances at Miguel and Marco, as if they would somehow know better how long it would take Justo to get everything ready.

Finally, they heard the music come on over the loud speakers. Marco and Miguel locked eyes and gave each other a “here goes nothing” look. The boys lined up on the sides like they planned and took turns showing off their best moves.

Unfortunately, not everyone got a turn. The music suddenly cut off and they looked over to the sound booth just in time to see Justo being chased out by the manager. The coaches looked more confused than angry, which Miguel took as a good sign.

“You want to tell us what just happened?” Hector asked, once everything calmed down.

The boys’ eyes all shot straight to Marco and Miguel. “You guys couldn’t pick music, so we did.” Marco said, skating up to their coaches.

“We voted on in at the sleep over last night,” Miguel added, skating over to join them. “We all agreed on a song and I cut a track for the routine.”

Imelda put her fingertips together in what Miguel mentally dubbed her Lecture Pose. “Boys, we appreciate the initiative, but we are your coaches and we are the ones who get to make these decisions.”

“But you won’t decide,” Miguel argued back.

“So now you don’t get a choice,” Marco added.

“What?” Ernesto cut in. “What are you talking about?”

A smug smile spread across Marco’s face. “I sent a copy of our music to the showrunners for approval using your email address.”

Ernesto’s face immediately went red. “Marco, what have I told you about breaking into my email?”

“I don’t care!” Marco snapped. “We teamed up so that we wouldn’t look like a bunch of unprepared amateurs at the showcase. You guys have been fighting ever since then and we got nothing done.”

“All we want is to skate together, have some fun, and put on a good performance, but we can’t do that if you guys can’t agree on a single thing.”  Can you guys please just work together? Just for a few weeks? Can you be civil?

“Can you start acting like grown ups so that we don’t have to?” Marco added with a sneer.

Hector and Imelda looked at each other and had another one of their mental conversations. “Well, I’m embarrassed,” Hector admitted. “We have been wasting a lot of their time.”

Imelda nodded and turned to the boys. “Alright, I’ll admit, our… creative differences have gotten out of hand. From here on out, we promise there will be progress every practice, right Ernesto?” Imelda turned her head and shot him a sharp glare.

“Right,” Ernesto agreed, although he shot his own glare back, “but no more surprises. We’ll keep your music, but we will make the decisions from here.”

Marco and Miguel agreed and the team finally got around to having a real practice. Miguel couldn’t help but feel cautiously optimistic. If he and Marco could get the rest of their team to get along, then maybe, just maybe, they’ve finally gotten through to their coaches too.

[assholemurphy]

i finished chap 12! finally!

i expected to be able to finish it and start on the next chap this break but i don’t think that’s gonna happen. this chap took forever and i’ve still got a fuckton of hw to do, so i’ve got to get that done before i write anything else, sadly. i might not get a chance to do that tomorrow, tho, bc i’ve got to go buy supplies for my stagecraft project (i’m turning an antique trunk into a bench/ottoman type thing) so i’ll be busy most of the day.

then sun i’ve got to do my playwriting assignment (i’ve got to rewrite my entire 10 min play bc ppl didn’t like it/there wasn’t enough action, like, okay, fine, sure, i’ll rewrite it, but i’m not good at rly short things, not anymore, i can’t even write a fucking chap less than 10k words! how am i supposed to write a complete story in 10 pages??? that’s mainly dialogue with a few actions but like, noting solid??? i don’t like this shit, i rly don’t). then i’ve got to make a better rendering for my stagecraft project. i’ve got to read trifles, then i’ve got to decide between trifles and the children’s hour for my next script analysis project. i’ve got to print off a copy of my justification script for sa to give to my prof. then i’ve got to maybe go to the library and see if they’ll let me check out a book with my id being expired (if not, i’ll have to wait until mon) so i can check out a play for acting i that has my monologue in it so i can do an analysis for it. then i should be caught up and ready to do other things. like set up my planner for next week.

there are like 2 weeks left in the semester. i’m terrified. i’ve still got to find a scene to do for acting i (on top of the 2 monologues i have to do) but my partner wasn’t there thurs so we weren’t able to pick on, which means we won’t be prepared at all. i’ve got to read the whole play for that scene (hopefully we can do one that is just that scene and doesn’t have a whole play attached) and do an analysis for it. i’m a little overwhelmed, tbh. but it’s alright, bc worst case scenario, it’s only 2 weeks, i can do my ‘work until physically ill from exhaustion’ thing again and then deal with being sick after finals. it’ll be okay. luckily i only have 1 final where i actually have to be present the day of, all the others i do the project and then turn them in before/on the day of. so, i’ll be good with getting shit done these next two weeks, but it means i won’t be able to write as much.

however, for this chap, the smut scene came out to 17.8k words. the first smut scene is 1.7 words. there’s literally 19.5k words of smut in this chap. the whole chap is 27k-ish words. it’s too damn long, that’s what it is. but i hope this is enough to make up for me not being able to write much in the upcoming weeks bc of finals.

i’m abt to smoke, then i’ll proofread it and post it on ao3 (and make a post with a link, since i’m not posting my chaps on tumblr until they get the tagging system fixed) so anyone who wants to read it can.

[whoareurl]

Requiem for a Cold (The Choir Part 2)

another lil drabble with Thomas and my poorly disguised ga/re/th malone oc lmao enjoy i’m a little bit in love with these boys ffs i have no attention span

-

Mr Malone was late.

This in itself didn’t worry Thomas particularly - their choirmaster always seemed to be rushing somewhere and often had a look about him which suggested he was supposed to be somewhere else - but he did find himself growing concerned when five minutes of their scheduled time had passed without a choirmaster in sight. Of course, practice had been cancelled last minute before (shit happens, as Mr Malone had said) but usually they’d have received an email by now to let them know. Thomas was, therefore, somewhat worried.

Eventually, Milan Dixon voiced what they were all thinking. “Do you think we should just...go?”

“Let’s give it five minutes,” Thomas suggested tentatively and they were quick to agree. Nobody really wanted to run out on Mr Malone.

“Maybe we should warm up?” said James Piper, the only other postgrad student among them. Then he turned to Thomas. “You could play for us, right?”

Thomas didn’t miss a beat. “Absolutely.”

As a child, Thomas had outright hated piano practice. It had seemed to tedious and repetitive and he could never seem to get his fingers just right on the keys, especially back when he’d had littler hands. Now it was solace; it was letting go and holding on and a breath of sweet spring air. The feel of the cool smooth keys beneath his fingertips was exhilarating and it had been days since he’d had a chance to play.

Taking a seat on the piano stool, Thomas played a quick C major scale with both hands to warm up and glanced up at the assembled choir with a smile. He suddenly felt important and a sense of calm warmth washed over him at the sight of them, trusting him to lead them through a warm up. Despite the bubble of anxiety in his throat, Thomas felt completely at home.

“Ready?” He asked and, upon receiving their nods of assent, played the familiar lead-in to the warm up.

As he played, his thoughts wandered to Mr Malone and he found himself watching his fingers with a vague sense of distance. He imagined Mr Malone’s fingers playing the same song, pressing the same keys, and felt a blush spread steadily up the back of his neck to the tips of his ears. He took a deep breath.

The final group was left singing in the round when Thomas glanced up at long last and spotted a familiar face in the doorway, stumbling over his notes in surprise. He played the final chord a beat too early and flushed brilliantly, quickly stumbling back to his place among the tenors. Mr Malone was still looking at him curiously.

“Did you pick that up by ear?” He asked and his voice was rougher than the day before.

He still wore the blue scarf and his cardigan was a thick navy-blue cable-knit garment with large flat buttons securing it across the choirmaster’s front. Between his rumpled hair and chapped nose, Thomas was quite certain that he was failing in his valiant attempts to fight off what threatened to be a miserable cold.

Uncertain of what else to say, Thomas nodded bashfully, but it didn’t satisfy Mr Malone’s thoughtful gaze. Thankfully, he was saved from further scrutiny by James.

“Are you alright?” He asked, stepping out from the gathered choir and heading over to where Mr Malone was still standing by the door. “You don’t look well.”

Mr Malone smiled wanly and held up a hand. “I’d keep my distance if I were you, James,” he warned jokingly, stopping James in his tracks. “I’m not at my best, I’ll give you that. But I’m thoroughly disinfected and planning to remain at least six feet away from the rest of you at all times so I suspect we’ll manage.”

Despite his obvious illness, Mr Malone’s energy didn’t seem to be curbed. He strode to the piano with all his usual finesse and discarded his music on the stool, grabbing a few stray sheafs from the top of the pile and placing them on a music stand.

“Now then,” he said, placing his foot on the bottom of the stand and adjusting it to suit his height. “Since you’re already warmed up,” he winked at Thomas who, having just cooled down from his last furious blush, felt his face set alight again. “I have a new piece for you.”

Excited chatter broke out among the choir and Gracie Kwan teased, “Is it something from this century?”

Mr Malone smiled. “Almost. We’re closer to the present day than normal.”

He returned to the piano to retrieve a manilla wallet and extracted a wad of paper, splitting it into two sections and handing them to two girls in the front.

“They’re vaguely grouped by part but I’m afraid I didn’t have time to sort through them properly so they might be a bit muddled,” he went on with a sheepish smile. “This is an extract from Duruflé’s Requiem which was composed…” He left the sentence hanging. “Does anyone know when?”

“1950s?” Milan suggested.

“Oh, very close. 1948. Well done,” Mr Malone praised and Milan beamed proudly. Thomas couldn’t blame her. He was still flying high from the choirmaster’s earlier comments. “Alright, have a look over your pa-”

Mr Malone stopped talking and Thomas looked up from his music to what was, frankly, an unfairly attractive sight. Despite his attempts to fight it, Mr Malone’s eyes were slipping closed, nose wrinkling as the impending sneeze built outwardly in his features. One slender hand came to hover, uncertain, in front of his face before he finally folded forward, nose buried in the crook of his elbow.

hh’gyISHHhoo! hr’niSHHHhuh!

A chorus of “bless you’s” sounded around the room and Mr Malone offered an embarrassed smile as he pulled a fresh packet of pocket tissues from his cardigan and blew his nose harshly. It was clear by the angry colour of his poor nose that he’d been doing that a lot. Thomas felt a wave of sympathy hit him right in the stomach.

“Maybe you ought to go home, Evan,” James suggested in a last-ditch effort to talk some sense into their stubborn choirmaster. It always startled Thomas that James felt comfortable enough to call Mr Malone by his first name. True, the three of them were essentially the same age (Thomas thought that James might actually be older than Mr Malone, in all honesty) but he commanded too much authority for Thomas to ever venture beyond a formal title.

Mr Malone rolled his eyes in exasperation. “You’re starting to sound like my mother,” he quipped.

And so, practice began.

(Mr Malone called Thomas over as they were packing up and asked him to come to his office before his first class tomorrow morning. Thomas was too painfully crush-stricken to even ask why before wholeheartedly agreeing. And then panicking. All night. Fuck.)

[serensama]

To Mourn #3

Here’s Jaehee all angst-ed up and ready to go!  This includes:  1) Some profanity  2) Angst. Tragedy. Major Character death. 

The spin of the earth impaled a silhouette of the sun in the steeple, And I gotta hear the same sermon all the time now- from you people. Why are you staring into outer space crying? Just because you came across it and lost it- … Everything reminds me of her.

“Everything reminds me of her”- Elliot Smith.

  “Jaehee! Jaehee! Are you there?” “… Y-yes.” “Listen, are you listening to me?”

“Yes.” “Maybe… Maybe she’s okay? Maybe she didn’t-” “Don’t say it.” “She’s probably-” “No.” “Jaehee. Have some faith.” “… What has that ever gotten me?” “Jaehee.” “I… I have to go.”

  She felt like death warmed up and barely at that. This damn flu had struck her down and she could barely lift her head let alone get up but she had to, this was the trade from high powered corporate life to humble coffee shop owner. There was no choice, if she wanted her business to succeed she needed to get up and make sacrifices- even if that meant ignoring her health. Jaehee snorted to herself, there wasn’t much difference after all, she had often come in to work for Jumin when she shouldn’t have but the key difference was that she wanted to get up and go to her shop. Even if she was sick, there was still great joy in doing something she loved. Even half dead. Coffee, coffee will be my salvation. Coffee is the answer.

Wincing as she pushed herself up, her entire body arguing against every movement she forced it to make, Jaehee paused to steady her breath only to lose it amidst her raking coughs, each rattling her chest more than the last. Her head spun as she fell back to her side, her breaths ending with a noticeable wheeze. Looking up at her side table, she picked up her phone and set her alarm for another 15 minutes of rest. She’d get up then, she’d be fine after a long shower. A nap was all she needed.

Moments later a soft caress brushed against her face and then another and another until a hum of laughter rang in her ears. Jaehee couldn’t fight the smile that found its way on her face, the familiar tickle of hair against her skin making her giggle as the owner of said hair placed a firm, smacking kiss upon her cheek. Finding a renewed sense of vigour, Jaehee threaded her fingers in her lover’s silken strands and cupped the back of her head so that she couldn’t step back, giving her a chance to nuzzle into her affectionately. There was nothing she loved more than being in bed with her girlfriend and lazing about at their own pace and just enjoying the comfort of each other’s touch and the joy of hearing their peals of laughter ring around their apartment. It was what she loved most about the weekends- Wait. It wasn’t the weekend. She had set the alarm- shit- what time-

“Shhh, shhh it’s okay honey,” MC soothed as she pushed Jaehee gently back onto the bed, the calm they had shared disappearing in seconds. “Lie back down and rest.” Jaehee scoffed as she tried to roll off the bed only to be trapped by MC on all fours, her arms and legs caging her so she couldn’t move. 

“Would you just listen to me for once and just rest?” she chided as she leant down to place an innocent peck on the tip of her nose.  Jaehee could barely open her eyes as it was but the moment MC started to run her fingers through her hair she felt all rebellion seep out of her, completely under the control of the woman above her. “That’s my girl, you stay in bed-” “But the shop-” she meekly replied, her fingers tangling themselves in the dress MC wore, the fine fabric almost as smooth as her partner’s skin. 

“I will open.”

“But it’s not your turn-”

“So?” “But you’re sick too!” she countered, pushing herself to lie on her bent elbows, MC’s nose centimetres away from her own. MC grinned, her eyes crinkling shut as she affectionately bopped Jaehee on the nose.  “Ahh but I can get out of bed! Unlike some people isn’t that right Jaehee?” she said looking down at her with a smug expression on her face. Jaehee rolled her eyes and dropped back down onto the plush pillows, biting her tongue so she didn’t say some smart-ass comment which would only add to the ribbing she was getting. “Besides, I may not be able to smell a damn thing but I’m pretty sure I can still make coffee… or at the very least take the orders!”

Jaehee smiled up at her, her amazing, supportive and kind girlfriend- she didn’t know what she did in another life to have deserved her, but she would thank alter-Jaehee every day for the rest of her life for letting her meet such a wonderful woman. 

“Now sleep you. When I get home, I expect a nice long foot rub from you,” she giggled as she went in to press a quick kiss to her dry and chapped lips. “You get better you hear? Your girlfriend will want cuddles and lots of them when she gets home!” “Well then you better leave quickly before she gets back!” Jaehee teased as she craned her neck to steal another kiss from her. MC’s eyes widened as she looked around conspiratorially, looking around her as if she were trying to look out for this imaginary girlfriend. “Shit! I think I hear her coming! Quick! Let me in!” she squealed as she rummaged through the bedsheets until she found Jaehee’s pyjama clad body and cuddled right up to her, resting her head upon her chest and just listened. Jaehee laughed until her sides hurt, her silly, wicked MC- even when she was feeling like hell she managed to find a little heaven to share with her. Placing her hand on the crown of her quilt covered head, she lovingly patted at her, just relishing the closeness MC demanded from her. It took so long to get used to physical affection at first, but she found soon after their relationship had blossomed, that she was the one who would seek it out and MC would never turn her away. It didn’t matter if she was cleaning the house, serving at the coffee shop or in the middle of the RFA party- she would caress her hand, link arms with her, peck her on the cheek or her favourite- hold her so tightly she didn’t know where she ended and MC began. She hadn’t felt so safe, or wanted, since her parents were alive. MC was everything to her, lover, friend and family; she could only hope that she knew that.

Drawing back the blankets to reveal MC’s dishevelled hair and bright grin, Jaehee couldn’t help but feel just that little bit better. MC ran a hand through her hair in a vain attempt to smooth the mussed-up locks before climbing up to take one final kiss from her. She jumped up and rearranged her clothes and then tucked in her bedridden lover, wiping away the hair from her face so she could look into her amber eyes. “You stay in there and rest up honey, I will be back before you know it. Did you want me to get dinner on the way home?” she said as she wrapped a large scarf around her. Jaehee nodded, hunkering down beneath the bed sheets. “What did you want?” “Hmmm something soupy and dumpling-y,” she muttered in between her yawns. “You got it!” she chirped as she bounded towards the front door. “Oh MC-” “Yes yes, I’ll ring you when I get there, Jaehee!” “Thank you!” “Worry Wart!” “I heard that!” “You were supposed to!”

Jaehee chuckled, covering her mouth as more coughs fell from her mouth. MC was right, she needed her rest. Turning over so she lay upon MC’s pillows, the last of her lingering warmth still embedded in the covers, Jaehee hummed contentedly with the scent of her lulling her into a sweet and dreamless sleep.

  MC pulled behind their quaint little shop and shivered, the chill from the air outside of her car already starting to find its way inside. Tightening her coat around her, she leant over to grab her phone from her purse and dialled the most called number on her phone, only for it to ring out and the sweet dulcet tones of her girlfriend began to play telling her to leave a message. MC laughed at herself as she waited for the beep before clearing her throat. “Well I sure am glad you’ve finally listened to me and are probably fast asleep- hence why you haven’t answered me- but I just wanted to let you know that I am here, safe and sound and ready to start the day! I’ll call you on my break honey and I will see you with the most soupy, dumpling-y thing I can find when I get home! Remember! Foot rub! Okay- okay, I’ll leave you be. I love you Jae-Jae, take care of yourself for me okay? Promise! Haha- okay I’ll stop being a loser and go now. Love you!”

Unlocking the door, she shook from the cold again and was about to switch on the heater when she remembered all the work she was about to do; in no time at all she would be wiping the sweat from her brow as she hustled around the shop, baking the cookies and muffins and a last-minute tidy of the counters. Peeling off her coat and bag and plopping them haphazardly on her shared desk with Jaehee, she quickly set to work washing her hands to get everything she needed to start the day. MC pulled out their pre-made chilled cookies to thaw out as she got everything set up in the cake display, spinning the cakes to look the most presentable for the customers.

As she stood up from her bent position, the world spun on its axis, forcing the her to hold onto the glass case to right herself. She felt a sharp pang of pain right between her brows and her sinuses hurt like hell- perhaps she was sicker than she thought she was. Or, moreover, she probably shouldn’t have kissed Jaehee so many times before she left… but the dizziness and headache was worth it. She would never pass up an opportunity to kiss that woman, illness or not. Groaning, MC took a moment to collect herself and breathe in as deeply as she could, her headache only seeming to get worse- resigning herself to getting through that day she took some pain killers and hoped for the best. One of the assistant managers could open tomorrow- she was going to spend all day with her girl in their bed, coughing over each other in a muddle of limbs and a pile of tissues surrounding them. MC pulled a face at the gross but ridiculously domestic situation that played out in her head and smiled; she had never thought it was possible to fall in love so deeply, but there she was absolutely smitten but the most kind and gorgeous woman she had ever met. The chime of the clock on the wall broke her from her love filled daydream and reminded her that she only had over an hour before she needed to open the doors for their barista. Grumbling to herself she washed her hands again, she ignored the tightness she felt in her chest and how full her head felt, limbs heavier than lead. Maybe she’d go home early, whatever it was she had, it was catching up to her and quickly. She had barely been in the shop for five minutes and she already felt like she was going to pass out.

Forcing herself to focus through the pain and lethargy, MC brought to mind the memory of the mess of the kitchen she and Jaehee made when they last made this particular batch of cookies, the employees had walked in to see her completely covered in flour with a chocolate streaked Jaehee running around the kitchen. That was one thing MC knew she contributed to her girlfriend’s life- not money or power or any sort of measurable success, but she brought joy into those honeyed eyes and she taught her the importance of play; merriment and mischief for no reason apart from the fact that it felt good. Hearing her laugh- that was all she needed to make any day a good day.

Wiping her hands on her apron, MC picked up the first two trays of cookies and placed them on the stove top. The very cold stove top. She had forgotten to preheat the ovens! Slapping herself on the forehead, MC turned the dial to turn it to temperature she wanted and-

 Oh. Jaehee. I’m so sorry. I can’t get you dinner after all.

  Jaehee yawned, stretching in bed and sniffing the air, the aroma of coffee floating around their apartment. She felt a thousand times better! She really needed to thank MC when she came home, something more like a full body massage to go along with her foot rub seemed fitting. She looked to the side and saw that the clock read 10am, the lull after the usual morning rush, and picked up her phone. She knew that MC would normally take a break around this time and wanted to be the one to call her-

47 missed calls? 12 voicemails. What the hell?

Saeyoung. Yoosung. Zen. Zen. Jumin. V. Saeyoung. Saeyoung. Zen… what? Until right down at the bottom, was one call from MC.

Saeyoung: “Jaehee! Where are you? Are you okay? Call me back as soon as you get this please!” Jumin: “Assist- Jaehee. Are you well? And MC too? Please call me back at your earliest convenience.” Yoosung: “Noona! I… I can’t believe… Um, just- whenever you can- call me back please.” Zen: “Jaehee! Are you guys alright? I’ve been trying to call both of you for the past damn hour! Please call me back asap!” V: “Please, please tell me you’re both okay.”

What the hell had happened?

Jaehee hit redial on the last call, Saeyoung, and fully expected for him to let it go to voicemail as he usually did with her calls but was pleasantly surprised when he picked up almost instantly. “Jaehee!” “Saeyoung-” “Oh thank god! You’re okay. You’re okay,” he muttered to himself, his relief palpable over the phone- which only made the sinking feeling in her stomach grow ever deeper. “Of course I’m alright, what’s wrong?” she asked, her fingers twisting in the blankets over her legs, the sweat on her palms making the sheets stick to her. “Where are you?” he countered, ignoring her question, annoying her. “I’m at home- what’s happened? Why is everyone calling me like crazy?” “Oh thank God! You’re both at home!” he sighed, a sound of cluttering over the other line that she assumed was him overdramatically slumping over his desk. “No,” she corrected shaking her head at her friend’s antics, “I’m at home. MC’s at the shop, she opened it today. Speaking of which- I really need to call her so-” “She’s there now?” he interrupted suddenly, his voice quiet and scared. “Yes?” she replied, her fingers so tightly wound around the covers they were starting to hurt. Silence. She was met with silence as the breathing on the other end started to shake. “Saeyoung?” “Don’t. Don’t turn on the TV. Can you do that for me Jaehee?” he asked, his tone finite and resolute, something she hadn’t heard for a long time, not since they faced that hacker business years ago. “I- what is this all about? Are you just going to be all cryptic and-” “Can you do that for me?” he asked again more urgently, the panic in his voice evident. “Y-Yes.”

She heard a heavy sigh from him as he mulled over what- how- to say everything. “Okay. There was an accident-” “Oh my goodness! Is everyone alright?” she asked, covering her mouth dreading the worst- was one of them hurt? Was that why… wait… they all called her… did they think she was hurt?... was it… it couldn’t have been- “MC… is MC… what happened Saeyoung, tell me!” she demanded, her voice rising with her fear. Jaehee tore away the covers, her body filled with a rush of adrenaline, the need to move and do something other than sit still overtaking her. “I- there was an accident at your shop-” “What kind of accident?” “There… they say it was some sort of gas leak and-” “Oh God no,” she whispered, her knees going weak, reaching out to the closest wall to brace herself. “We can’t panic- they haven’t released anything yet-” “Can’t you find anything?” she half asked, half begged, her fingers ringing at her the roots of her hair- tears clouding her vision. “I’ve tried!” he cried out, the sounds of his fingers tapping across his keyboards frantically coming down the line. “The police haven’t written anything, they haven’t called anything in. The paramedics haven’t taken anyone away. The fire department are still containing the blaze-” “A blaze, oh my god!” she sobbed, banging her head on the wall behind her as she slid down, all strength leaving her body as she envisioned the plumes of smoke and the hellfire that surrounded her shop. The ash and rubble. The carnage.

“I can’t see anything from the surrounding cameras… I… wait… she entered the shop-” “Did she get out?!” she asked with bated breath, waiting, waiting… He didn’t respond. “Saeyoung!” “I… there’s no footage of her coming out,” he said but quickly spoke over her wail, attempting to calm her as best he could. “But that also means there’s no footage of her staying in. Maybe she got out. Maybe she just left her phone behind and is completely fine and-”

Jaehee had enough listening to him.

She shakily rose to her feet and stumbled her way to the lounge, turning on the TV and waited for the picture to load properly on the screen. She heard the sirens and the fast commentary of the news presenter before she saw it all. It didn’t matter that she heard what may have been four or five different sirens or the shouts of the emergency workers behind the presenter- or the fact that reporter was speaking a mile a minute to depict the dire situation of it all- nothing could have prepared her for what she saw.

The building was decimated. The brickwork blasted apart, barely a skeleton of the shop they had called theirs remained. Smoke rolled up into the sky like black storm clouds, the vivid orange of the flames that still engulfed the wreckage… no one could survive that. No one.

“Jaehee! Jaehee! Are you there?” She looked down at the phone in her hand, droplets of her tears dripping down the flat screen, wet against her cheek as she pressed it against her ear. “… Y-yes.” “Listen, are you listening to me?”

“Yes.” “Maybe… Maybe she’s okay? Maybe she didn’t-” “Don’t say it.” “She’s probably-” “No.” “Jaehee. Have some faith.” “… What has that ever gotten me?” “-Jaehee.” “I… I have to go.”

Jaehee hung up and shoved the phone into her pocket, picked up her car keys and drove towards hell.

  She didn’t know how she got there. Didn’t know how she got there in one piece. She wasn’t even thinking. Yet there she was, standing with the crowd as emergency services finally quelled the fire. There was nothing left. The buildings beside them badly affected by the fire but thankfully nothing that insurance wouldn’t cover and no one there was hurt-

Her heart leapt to her throat and stopped her breath.

MC.

Steeling herself, she pushed her way between the people until she made her way to the barricade where the police instructed her to stand back. “I’m the owner!” she yelled back, her voice weak and strained from her illness and despair. The officer’s eyes immediately softened as his mouth fell into a compassionate frown, moving the barrier so she could step inside and talk to them privately. The further they walked away from the public filled her with more dread, each step a stab to the gut that she couldn’t ignore. Each look of sadness that was thrown her way making her want to scream- she knew, she knew what they were trying to tell her long before they had even opened their mouth. Just say it. Say it.

The officer in charge took one look at her and sighed, pulling off his hat and holding it to his chest. She was crying before he had even said “Ma’am.”

Strong arms caught her as she fell down, the ground grazing her knees through her pants as she collapsed. She heard every word they said, making sure to listen well so she would never have to hear them again. Gas leak. Ignition from the oven. One casualty. What seemed to be a woman in the kitchens. Instant death. Quick. Sorry. So sorry.

A gas leak. MC couldn’t smell anything, her sickness stealing her sense of smell from her- MC didn’t stand a chance. But she did. She could have. If she just insisted that she would the one to come into work, to open up, she would have smelt the noxious gas. She would have aired out the shop. Called the fire department just to make sure everything was going to be okay and then she would have returned home and slid in between the covers to hold MC to her, to tell her about the gas scare and how she was just happy to be there with her, to tell her how much she loved her and… who cared. Who cared what happened after that? Because if it was her who went that morning- there would have been so many more moments to choose from that it wouldn’t matter what happened after that. Now? Because she was too lazy to get up, because she liked feeling taken care of, because she like feeling loved- she was never going to feel that again. She lost MC just because she didn’t want to get out of bed. She lost the only person in her life who loved her, because of a god damned cold.

Jaehee cursed God. Cursed life. Cursed everything she could. She wanted to spit at the firemen who had put out the fire- if it were still going, she would have rushed in there and righted it all. Let the flames lick at her skin and the smoke fill her lungs, to let death take her. It would have hurt less than whatever torture she was under. It should have been her.

The police tried to get her to move on; to go to the morgue, hospital- anywhere but there, but she refused. She sat there on the outskirts of the barricades and watched as the light, white smoke flew up into the sky. As the sky turned from blue to black. She would not be moved. “Hey… Jaehee. It’s time. We need to go.”

She looked up and saw a shock of white hair and red rimmed eyes, a hand extended in front of her to help her stand. She shook her head and continued to stare at the ruins before her. “Okay. A little longer then.”

At first it was only Zen who sat beside her but as time passed on she realised her left side was warmed by Yoosung. She turned around to see Saeyoung, V and Jumin all on the hood of the hacker’s car, watching her and the wreckage intently. Her shoulders were covered with a heavy white jacket that smelt of cologne and cigarette smoke, her lap emblazoned with a simple blue hoodie. She was still so cold.

They didn’t leave her, not even as the first stars made their appearance, not even when the chill of the night air burned her skin, not even when she fell asleep.

She still felt completely alone.

 They didn’t need her to identify the body, the dental records were enough to do that. Told her that seeing her partner in that condition would… would not be necessary. In other words, if you saw how she looked, it would haunt your dreams and waking world forever. Though now she’d dream of all the different ways she could have been found, half burnt, completely burnt, a charred skeleton- she couldn’t stop seeing MC in varying stages of pain.

She refused any help from the RFA to help organise her funeral. That along with all the paperwork she had to fill for the insurance claims for the accident- it kept her busy. Focused. Distant. Concentrating her time and energy on those things actually made the whole situation seem less real because who did these things when the love of your life was dead? Who could find the time to talk to investigators when they were choosing the flowers to be put on a casket? Nobody, no one. So long as she was busy- the situation she was in wasn’t real, wasn’t happening.

But at night… when she didn’t have people to ring… when all the work she could do had been done… everything came crashing down. The reality hit her hard in the face each and every time. She was alone in the apartment; a mausoleum dedicated to her and MC. Each and every surface was touched by her and had a memory of her attached to it. No matter where she looked she could envision MC there, smiling at her as if nothing had happened. When she closed her eyes- it was even worse. It would be MC screaming, burning, dying. Calling out for her.

She hadn’t slept in days.

  She stood in front of so many faces, some she knew, most she didn’t, and she wanted nothing more than to feel MC’s warm fingers entwined with hers; giving her the strength and courage she needed.

“MC would have loved to see you all here, all together to celebrate something together. She often told me and the other RFA members how she wanted to organise a big party with all of our loved ones… it is… it is a shame that she didn’t get to see it happen. It is a shame that we are here to celebrate her life now that she’s…. now that she’s gone.”

She spoke about her kindness, how this relative stranger was the one who in just two short weeks managed to become the most important person in her life. How their relationship had taken time to flourish from friendship to romance but when it did, both had wondered what had taken so long to do so when they were so obviously in love from the start? She spoke of dreams and how MC had been nothing but supportive of hers- stood tall and fast beside her all the way- from the first day until her very last day. Jaehee managed to speak of her love for her, the emptiness the world held now that she was no longer in it and how she would miss MC for the rest of her life and finally, she thanked MC. She thanked her for letting her, for even just a second in her life, feel like she had somewhere she truly belonged.

The faces were all stained with tears and the church filled with sobs and sounds of noses being blown. The RFA sat in the front row beside her, obviously deeply affected by her words and the farewell of a good friend.

Her eyes were dry. Her soul in tatters.

  “What do you mean you’re leaving?” Zen cried, banging his hand upon the table, standing up as he did so. The entire RFA sat around her in an empty room within C&R for their monthly party meeting where she promptly said she was leaving the RFA and leaving the country. “Zen, please calm down,” Jumin said quietly, raising his hand as if to beg him to restrain himself, something the actor was not used to doing when it came to his emotions. “Don’t tell me to calm down Jumin,” he growled before turning his attention back to Jaehee, his crimson eyes boring into hers beseeching a proper explanation from her about her sudden life choices. “I no longer wish to pursue a career in my own small business. I wanted to go back to something simple, less fuss and stress. I had asked Jumin, Mr. Han, if there were any positions available to apply for and whilst he said there was nothing here in Korea- there was something in Japan-” “Japan is so far away!” Yoosung whined, his amethyst eyes shining with tears he held back as best he could. “Why… why not just try something else? I can help! Whatever you need Noona-” “Guys, if she wants to go you can’t stop her,” Saeyoung quipped not looking at Jaehee, just fiddling with the cord of his headphones. “Sometimes people just need- sometimes they need a new start, yeah?”

Jaehee stared at the redhead, disbelieving the wisdom that had dripped from his lips and nodded appreciatively when his gaze met hers. She was worried for a second that they would make her explain all her reasons, force her to reveal her feelings and she felt sick. How could she tell them that giving up her dreams hurt almost as much as losing MC? But it was clear now that she wasn’t allowed to have dreams. She had dreamt of a loving partner and a good business and the minute she had both? Both taken from her in the most jarring of ways. Everyone she had ever loved was taken from her, death reminding her that she should never love again. How could she tell them that she was afraid that if she stayed near them all that they would all die horrible deaths just because they loved her? That she had begged Jumin to send her to one of his international firms even though he had wanted to take her back as his EA, Jumin literally creating a new position for her in Japan so she could get away. She couldn’t. So she didn’t. “I don’t want to go. I need to. I need to do this for me. I’m so sorry guys, but I need to do this.” She couldn’t stand to lose anyone else she loved. She was a curse, a blight, a plague. She would not be the reason anyone else died. She would rather be completely alone than have to suffer through another loss. There was only so much she could take before she broke and couldn’t be fixed anymore- she was already on that precipice. Just one final push and… “I hope one day you can all forgive me for leaving you so suddenly-” “It’s not about forgiveness- we’re worried about you. We don’t want you to go where we can’t help you. You’re our friend,” Zen explained as he put one large hand on top of her head in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. She gave a watery smile and permitted his good intentions to flow through her, knowing full well it couldn’t last. “I will still be your friend from Japan.” “That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he retorted flashing her an unimpressed look, the smirk on his lips weakening the severity. “I know,” she nodded, breathing in to push back the tears that threatened to fall. “I know.”

“Promise you won’t forget us?” Yoosung sniffled, the youngest of them staring at her with big gem coloured eyes. Jaehee reached over the table and squeezed his hand, the boy taken aback by the affection she showed. “I promise.”

  After a tearful goodbye and plans of catching up before she departed for Japan, Jaehee sluggishly returned to the apartment- already packed and ready to go, only the final bits and pieces left to sort through. She would be long gone before they had the chance to call in and make good on those promises of seeing her off. If she had to see them, she wouldn’t be able to go through with it. She’d be weak and melt and stay there with them and watch pathetically as one by one, they would be taken from her. So, she would leave instead. It was a good price to pay to make sure her brothers, the only family she had left, would stay safe… and so she could grieve in peace. Jaehee knew they meant well, that they called her and visited her more often now than they ever did before- to make sure she was eating and taking care of herself and as touched as she was- she just wanted them to go away. They were trying to cheer her up, trying to make her smile, trying to make her feel better and she didn’t want it! All she wanted was to sit there, in silence, and wallow in the abject despair that she felt and know that it was okay. That it wasn’t making anyone else sad or disappointing them because she wasn’t moving on as quickly as they had hoped.

They didn’t get it, couldn’t understand. She would never get over it. She lost half of herself that day and she would never get it back. You don’t get up from that kind of fall; you stay there, lying in the dirt until death claims you. You continue living until finally your time is up and if you’re lucky- you get to see them again in the afterlife. Her mother, her father… MC.

Jaehee squeezed her eyes shut as she shook her head from side to side, trying to dislodge the image of MC grinning up at her from under the bedsheets that final morning together- her sparkling eyes and bright smile, the love in her gaze as she looked at her- she needed to pack.

MC’s parents had already picked up most of her personal effects but left the closet untouched as the women had put their clothes together in a cacophony of dresses and shirts- the two sharing their wardrobe as equally as they did everything else. Jaehee sighed as she stepped inside the walk-in robe slowly spinning around to take in the magnitude of the job. Taking a deep breath in she took one step towards the clothes and began to separate hers from MC’s. Don’t think about it, just do it. They’re just clothes. They mean nothing. She’s not here to wear them, you don’t need them! Don’t think. Keep going.

Jaehee was about to toss another one of MC’s sweaters to the side for her parents to sort through when she paused, her eyes filling with tears she didn’t know she still had within her to cry. The plain fawn cable knit sweater dress she adored, wore almost religiously whilst lounging around at home… she had worn it the night before she died… She must have hung it up by accident in her rush to get ready in the morning. Against her better judgement, Jaehee lifted the garment to her face and inhaled, the faint scent of her perfume still clinging to the collar and wrists of the sleeve. She could feel the tremble of her lips as she drew her nose away from it as tears fell and darkened the wool. A high whine escaped from her throat as she buried her face into the sweater, taking long raking breaths, desperate to capture she could of MC from it. Jaehee ran it over her cheeks, almost feeling the smooth skin of MC’s palm in its stead, and in a burst of impulsivity- threw the jumper over her head as her arms wriggled through the sleeves until she was completely immersed in it.

Carefully, moving as if she were afraid she would break if she moved too fast, she wrapped her arms around herself; the feeling of the familiar fabric under her fingers reminded her how MC felt in her arms- the warmth and scent of the sweater almost the same as if it were really her holding her back. Jaehee sobbed as the harsh reality came crashing down. She was all alone. Just a weird, creepy woman in her dead girlfriend’s clothes hugging herself. Wiping her eyes on the forearms of the sleeves, Jaehee let another wail out as she lay herself down upon the pile of clothes she had separated from her own. She nuzzled at the different fabrics and ran her fingers over each item as she tried to remember the last time she wore everything.

This dress- she wore it to Saeyoung’s birthday party. She said that it was so uncomfortable that she made me unzip her before we even made it back to the car- Zen was so scandalised thinking we were just being too impatient to get into each other’s panties- MC had laughed so hard on the way home. This shirt- this damn stain she could never get rid of- the soy sauce from one of their first dates… she wore this the weekend before at the coffee shop. Said she didn’t mind if it got dirty in the name of love. This negligee… the first time they had decided to make their relationship an intimate one… she had worn this and she… she was stunning.

This dress-

“Jaehee- it’s so pretty! My gosh!” “It really is MC.” “I could wear this to our wedding!” “I… yes. You could.”

Jaehee rocked back and forth on the floor, surrounded by MC and their memories and she wept- so hard she couldn’t control her body or how loud her voice cried out- she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t let anything go, let MC go, she wouldn’t. Pushing herself up, her arms shaking under the weight of her sorrow, she crawled over to her suitcase and emptied everything she had previously packed and dragged it back to the closet. Grabbing what she could from the mound of clothes on the floor, she dropped them into the suitcase, over and over until everything she could fit was in there. She could leave behind Jaehee. She could never leave behind MC.

Somehow managing to finish up, Jaehee wiped at her tear streaked face and smiled deliriously, stumbling into bed and rolling instinctively to MC’s side- her scent completely gone from the bedsheets, lost in the tears she had shed over them. Hugging herself tightly, imagining herself in MC’s embrace as she stroked the wool covering her arms, she dipped her face in the empty comfort it provided.  

“Goodnight Jae Jae.”

Jaehee’s eyes flung open, cursing her sadistic mind for playing such a cruel trick on her. It had seemed so real. “Goodnight MC.”

  Jaehee sat in her seat on the company jet Jumin has so graciously let her take to assist in her move to a new country. He voiced his displeasure at the path she was taking and the deceit she had weaved to their friends but, begrudgingly he admitted he understood. If he had lost someone like MC- he wouldn’t want to stay in a place that reminded him of her, surrounded by people who could never miss her the way he would have. After one awkward hug between the business associates- cum friends- cum business associates, she was alone with the skeleton crew on board the short flight to her new life.

“I’m sorry Miss Kang, we will be taking off in the next five minutes- could you please turn any devices you have onto airplane mode?” a flight attendant with a million watt smile kindly asked her, pointing to the phone she held in her hands. Jaehee nodded and went to change her settings when she saw the little icon on her phone indicating she had one voicemail she hadn’t listened to yet. Not that she needed reminding, she was very well aware or who it was from and when it was sent but she… she never had the strength to listen to it. What did she say? What were the final words she said to her? Were they words of love? Was it her asking her to do something? Was it just an empty recording as MC had accidentally pocket dialled her and didn’t realise she had called her at all?

Oh for God’s sake Jaehee. It’s been six months. You’re moving away. You’re moving… forward. Listen to it. She wanted you to hear it. Listen to it.

Unlocking her phone and pressing the buttons to listen to her voicemail, MC held the phone to her ear and braced her heart. She probably wasn’t ready for any of what was about to be said, just to hear her voice again would send her into a tail spin, but she had to do it. If she didn’t want to be haunted by another “what if” in regards to MC- she had to. Jaehee smacked her lips together as the automated voice telling her the time and date the message was sent finished talking and waited patiently for MC’s voice to start. “… I am here, safe and sound … and I will see you …when I get home! Remember! … I love you Jae-Jae, take care of yourself for me okay? Promise! …  Love you!”

She hit replay, again and again and once more after that.

“Madam, please… your phone.” “Just… give me one more minute. One last time.”

Take care of yourself for me… I’m trying. I’m trying so hard MC, you have no idea. I wanted to continue on, to rebuild the coffee shop. Rename it in your honour. Make a new cake that reminded me of your sweetness and the comfort you could give to anyone you met. I wanted to continue our dreams but- I couldn’t. Not without you. You made my dreams possible. You inspired me and supported me and I am not strong enough to do it again without you. Forgive me. I can’t forget how my dreams cost me the love of my life, it probably best that I give up on dreams altogether- besides I can’t stand the smell of-

“Would you like a coffee Madam?”

Jaehee snapped out of her inner monologue and shook her head, the idea of the dark, rich liquid making her stomach turn. The smell that once offered her peace turned acrid and nauseating. “No, thank you.”

She absolutely hated coffee.

  Without MC, Jaehee quickly returned to her ways before meeting her late girlfriend. Long nights at the office, mornings of waking up alone at her desk with notes stuck to her face, eating what she could as quickly as she could. Gone was the spark that everyone had seen ignite with MC’s touch. Gone was the smile she wore that reached her eyes. Gone- she was just, gone. A kind but distant woman who only had work to cling to. She had forgotten everything she learnt with MC. She had to, in order to survive.

She didn’t make any friends, didn’t go out after work, didn’t plan holidays and rarely, so very rarely, did she contact the RFA. Jaehee felt pangs of guilt whenever the boys would call her, just to ask how she was and how she was settling into life in the new country- most of the time answering days later and with one sentence answers. Soon the messages became less frequent and shorter until they were merely exchanging greetings and sharing salutations during birthdays or holidays. It was probably better that way.

It was better to be cold. Better to be alone. Can’t get hurt. Won’t hurt anyone else.

But at night… after she had a glass (or four) of wine … she would pull out a neatly folded sweater from the top of her dresser and put it on. Sometimes she would drape it over her lap as she sat on the sofa, sometimes she would lay it over the side of the bed and just curl on top of it and cry herself to sleep as she would fall endlessly into memories of a life they had lived together, too short and not enough; or slide easily into fantasies of a life that should have been. She was drowning in grief, slowly and surely, hiding it under work and duty. One day she knew it would not be enough to contain it, that her perpetual sadness would consume her until there was nothing left but her misery; that she would succumb and whatever was left of the old Jaehee was sure to be lost. One day. Until then, she had wine, memories that hurt her and a handful of fragile woollen threads.  

[crispyninjadonut]

Keeper Group Chat Chapter 2

A/n hey guys sorry I don't have a schedule set up for updating I procrastinate and end up writing this on notes going to and from class XD  Enjoy

  As always under the cut for people that don't want to read (but why wouldn't you)

Linh: fitz did you have that science test yet Fitz: yeah earlier today Linh: how hard was it Fitz: define hard Fitz: like bash head against the wall hard Linh: definitely not that hard hopefully Fitz: yeah it wasn’t tHaT hard Linh: phew Sophie: hey guys Fitz: yo soph Linh: how was your morning Sophie: tiring Fitz: I don’t blame you Linh: yeah Sophie: I wonder where everyone else is Fitz: probs getting to class Linh: yeah doesn’t biana have maths across the school next? Sophie: tru Fitz: yep Sophie: I am sooooo ready for lunch Linh: saaaame Fitz: gtg bells about to ring Linh: me too Sophie: bye

Keefe: I have the fear Biana: you okay Keefe Keefe: t h e l u n c h l i n e Dex: oh my god Biana: how long have we been going to this school Tam: too long Biana: -_- Biana: my point is that you’ve gone through the lunch line before stop being so dramatic Dex: ohhhhhh Dex: she told you Keefe: if i die you aren’t getting any of my stuff Biana: just go! God Tam: see you at the table Dex: ugghhhh why does my locker have to be so far away Biana: c'mon Dex stop talking more walking Dex: I’m coming sheesh

Sophie: I don’t wanna go to maaaaath Fitz: c'mon that’s our only class together Keefe: I see why you don’t wanna go Fitz: -_- Keefe: ALLL byyyy myyyseeeeelf Keefe: don’t wannaaaa beeee Biana: oh my god Sophie: I know Tam: keefe could you shut up Keefe: nevverrrrr Fitz: uhoh Biana: the bells gonna ring you better shut up Sophie: if you make my phone go off in class Ill kill you Fitz: hahah HAHA Fitz: go to class Sophie: I swear if you are ditching again Keefe: me? Pfft Keefe: no way Biana: -_- Keefe: maybe a little Fitz: KEEFE Biana: you are so getting detention Fitz: don’t skip the detention Keefe: of course I’m gonna skip the detention Sophie: Keefe no Keefe: Keefe yes Tam: I do not condone this Keefe: hahaha see ya later guys Fitz: are you serious

Dex: FREEEDOOOOOOM Linh: yep Biana: let’s freaking go Im ready Sophie: where is my bus Keefe: with all the other busses Sophie: thanks Keefe Fitz: UGH I’ve got so much homework Dex: haha sucks to suck Fitz: what Dex: forget it Sophie: I CANT GIND MY BUS Biana: noooooooo Keefe: Foster it’s right over there Sophie: where the heck is that Keefe: the front Sophie: whys it over there Linh: go before you miss it Dex: oh my god soph XD Fitz: what are we gonna do with you Biana: :P Sophie: ha ha ha Sophie: ha ha ha haaaaa Sophie: -_- Dex: it’s okay Sophie: I’m disowning all of you Biana: you do that Sophie: jk jk love you guys Tam: I’m trying to do homework can you guys SHUT UP Keefe: you can’t tell us what to do bangs boy Biana: so what do you guys want to do on the ride home Dex: cry Keefe: um Dex: ;-; Linh: you okay there Dex: nO Fitz: do you want to talk about it Dex: no I’m just never okay Sophie; IM NOOOT OKKAAAAYYY Sophie: IM NOT OKAAAYYYYYYY Biana: sophie stap Sophie: ok I’m good Keefe: that happened Fitz: indeed Biana: I see the house on the horizon Fitz: woot let’s go Keefe: see ya guys Sophie: byyyye Dex: ughh five more stops Dex: I’m gonna do a little homework Sophie: ok talk to ya later Dex Keefe: bye!! Sophie: and then there were 2 Keefe: make that 1 my stop is in a minute Sophie: ugggggggggggg Sophie: alllll by myyyyyseeeelllllllfffff Sophie: fine I’ll do homework then

Sophie: HOMEWORK SUCKS Linh: I feel you Sophie: math Sophie: I hate math Dex: *maths Sophie: yeah yeah whatever Biana: XD Fitz: you having trouble Sophie: AM I HAVING TROUBLE Fitz: *? Fitz: need some help Sophie: yea Fitz: FaceTime me I’ll help Sophie: omg thanks Dex: hey linh do you get the music homework cause I don’t Linh: what part Dex: every part Linh: well that’s helpful Dex: wait google is being helpful Linh: okay Linh: am I being replaced by a computer? Biana: XD Dex: nooooo Dex: it’s just that google understands me Linh: XD okay

Keefe: it is already dark out!!! Tam: yeah that happens Keefe: but I have practiiiiiice Tam: deal with it Keefe: sigh Keefe: oh I see how it is Keefe: your just gonna leave me here with my boredom Keefe: ugghgggggggghhh your all so boring

Biana: hahaha sorry Keefe Keefe: -_- Biana: :P Keefe: hey hey did you know Biana: the more you KNOWWW Keefe: did you know that how to save a life is ten years old now Biana: WHAT Biana: ARE YOU SERIOUS Keefe: yep Biana: man I feel old Keefe: I know right Biana: wooowwww Biana: welp I gotta go Keefe: ugh just leave me be Biana: XD see ya

Dex: I STILL DONT UNDERSTAND THIS MUSIC HOMEWORK

Sophie: hey at least its not math Dex: *maths Sophie: sigh Dex: technically it is like maths though Sophie: oh shut up Dex: XD Dex: I win Keefe: foster nobody calls it math Sophie: AMERICANS CALL IT MATH Keefe: I rest my case Sophie: ohhHHHH ITS ONN Dex: look what you did Keefe Dex: I just wanted to complain about my homework Dex: but nooooo Keefe: hehe sorry Sophie: UGH Sophie: you disgust me Keefe: I try ;) Dex: ew Sophie: omg Dex XD Dex: ^-^ Keefe: I am highly offended Biana: why am I not surprised Dex: heyy biana Dex: you have mister austin for music right Biana: yeah Dex: did you have any music homework Biana: nope we were running late Dex: are you serious Biana: sorry buddy Dex; well im gonna fail Sophie: no your not Biana: why are you taking music anyway Dex: my parents like TORTURING me Sophie: -_- Biana: cmon music isn’t that bad Dex: you know im terrible at it Sophie: your never gonna get better with that attitude Biana: yeah Dex: hmf Keefe: Guess who’s back Dex: an idiot is back Sophie: ab argumentative idiot is back Keefe: ack I am highly offended Biana: good Keefe: why do yall hate me Sophie: keefe Keefe: yah Sophie: never say y'all again Keefe: okay Dex: XD Keefe: hey Keefe: hey hey Sophie: yeah? Keefe: biana Sophie: oh Dex: XD Keefe: bianaaaaaa Biana: what is it keefe Keefe: is fitz around Biana: -_- Biana: he’s shut up in his room doing homework Keefe: ohhhh Biana:facetime him or something Keefe: I can’t he set it to do not disturb Dex: what do you want wonderboy for anyway Sophie: dEX Dex: yeah yeah don’t call him wonderboy anymore I know Sophie: :-: Biana: welp I don’t know what to tell you Keefe: tell FiTz that there’s a rugby game this saturday Biana: fine Sophie: ope Sophie: dinners ready bye! Keefe: bye foster! Dex: see ya soph Keefe: sooo Dex: I’m doing hw talk later Keefe: mkay

Biana: just told him Keefe: thanks Keefe: imma go take a nap Biana: XD okay Keefe: see ya tomorrow

 Chap 1

[justintimbershit]

1-50

1: What would you name your future daughter?that’s a really good question. I don’t know if i want to have my own daughter like if i adopt a child they’re going to keep whatever name they already have so idk. depends if i have children. but if i do probably alex? or brooke? idk man 2: Do you miss anyone?yes :( i miss them a lot3: What if I told you that you were pretty?THANKS PAL 4: Ever been told “it’s not you, it’s me”?um not that i recall? this usually requires being in a relationship which is unrelatable so 5: What are you looking forward to in the next week?john mayer releasing new music friday:))))) and im supposed to hang out with julia tomorrow night!!! 6: Did you go out or stay in last night?i stayed in. unless u call chillin w my mom at work ‘going out’ 7: How late did you stay up last night?like midnightish i think i dont recall exactly 8: Honestly, has anyone seen you in your underwear in the past 3 months?lmao yes o o p s s 9: What were you doing at 12:30 this afternoon?i think i was eating pancakes maybe or drawing a unicorn 10: Have you ever told somebody you loved them and not actually meant it?no. i do not believe so i am a nice person11: Could you go for the rest of your life without drinking alcohol?probably. i never really drink so 12: Have you pretended to like someone?yes. gotta pick ur battles sometimes. 13: Could you go the rest of your life without smoking a cigarette?holy fuck yes cigarettes are GROSS 14: Is there one person in your life that can always make you smile?yes:))))))))15: Is it hard for you to get over someone?so hard lmao:( 16: Think back five months ago, were you single?yes always17: Have you ever cried from being so mad?i do believe so. i get mad easily so i dont doubt it18: Hold hands with anyone this week?yes i have 19: Did your last kiss take place in/on a bed?i dont think so. ya know idk it was so long ago but im pretty certain it wasnt 20: Who did you last see in person?my mother when i said goodnight 21: What is the last thing you said out lot?“i give up” to jennifer bc my phone keeps fucking falling 22: Have you kissed three or more people in one night?no. i still havent kissed 3 ppl in my entire life23: Have you ever been to Paris?no. i fucking wish. a fucking dream. 24: Are you good at hiding your feelings?fuck no i suck at it. im one of those ppl who shows feelings n then pretends like they dont exist when asked about them then ppl get mad. also im just rlly easy to read. 25: Do you use chap stick?indeed. 26: Who did you last share a bed with?ummm this is an excellent question. i think julia. probably. or. i dont even know.27: Are you listening to music right now?nope28: What is something you currently want right now?SOMEONE TO CUDDLE WITH. also a slurpee 29: Were your last three kisses from the same person?yes. disgusting. 30: How is your heart lately?EH it could be better but it could possibly be in the best condition it has been in a while. its confusing 31: Do you wear the hood on your hoodie?nah. never. unless i just put it on and im going to sleep or staying in the house 32: When was the last time a member of the opposite sex hugged you?friday. i love eddie. 33: What do people call you?julie. or jules. or lombardi. or mary bc they dont have brains. 34: Have you ever wanted to tell someone something but didn’t?yes always bc i am chicken 35: Are there any stressful situations in your life?yes, as always. but i kinda tend to pretend they dont exist while also letting them ruin my life36: What are you listening to right now?jennifer talk about florida 37: What is wrong with you right now?im fucking tired 38: Love really is a beautiful thing huh?dude idk my heart fuckin HURTS 39: Do you make wishes at 11:11?i dont usually anymore:/40: What is on your wrists right now?nothing 41: Are you single/taken/heartbroken/confused/waiting for the unexpected?single and heartbroken 42: Where did you get the shirt/sweatshirt you’re wearing?a college sent it to me. i asked for a medium and they gave me an extra large43: Have you ever regretted kissing someone?in the moment no but looking back yes i have probably regretted every kiss 44: Have you hugged someone within the last week?i have indeed 45: Have you kissed anyone in the last five days?i have not. tragic. 46: What were you doing at midnight last night?either sleeping or almost sleeping 47: Do you miss the way things were six months ago?id say fuck no but that sounds definite and im not even exactly sure what was happening in my life 6 months ago but life is decent right now i guess so i guess ill just stick with it if i dont know what im exchanging it for 48: Would you rather sleep with someone else or alone?i wanna cuddle so prob w someone else 49: Have you ever been to New York?no:( i rlly wanna go it kills me50: Think of the last person who said I love you, do you think they meant it?i really truly hope so

[trrashwalk]

on the subject of milo fucking off to other lands

so a few weeks ago i found out that i may be moving from california to washington dc/ maryland  im not quite sure how i feel about that one chief im not particularly.. perturbed by it, so to speak. theres nothing for me in this town, the people dont like me, i dont like them, its always too hot, etc etc one hangup that hangup being tropkki and therapy and how useless itd be to start that now, but thats a different story back to vendy for those of you who dont know, most of you i reckon, we live in the same town i like to think we're pretty tight if i move, who knows what would happen i sure fucking dont but at the same point, because of her mom its not like we're particularly present in eachothers individual life only in eachothers childish "future plans" who we're gunna live with, what we're gunna do, all that on you know what goes with distance in the way of changing things? time whether or not i move, things are tough enough so im not sure how to feel about that either another shaking thing is that we could be moving as soon as the end of november-the beginning of winter break the difference in time being whether or not someones going with my dad to get settled the obvious answer would be: "duh, let him go, enjoy the rest of the school year with your friends!" to that id say: "shut up susan, think your words through next time you open your petty chapped lips" because 1. my dad gets "angry-lonely" whenever hes alone for more then 2 days, and that anger can last like,,, a year now imagine that but with 6 months of loneliness to make up for in anger   2. fuck school 3. how could i enjoy it with her? we cant see eachother now anyway! it wouldnt change it. itd just lull us into a false sense of security until we're suddenly ripped apart   and 4. who else is gunna go with my dad? one of my brothers? no. they both have a friend group and a stake in our town. my big sister? hell no! shes the main reason we'd be staying for the rest of the school year in the first place. my mom? no, who else is supposed to watch four fucking children on her own with a 8-6 job? (nice thinking by the way, dad) anyway, i think i'll be the one to come along. i have no social standing, mediocre grades, like 3 friends(one of which my parents dont allow me to be around, the other i havent seen in person since 6th grade, and the last lives in oklahoma so that doesnt matter too much), and im a detached and floaty person when it comes to things like this tomorrow my dad is driving me to a doctors appointment. hes pretty tight-lipped about the whole thing, but maybe i could barter some information on the subject and one last thing: this is all a maybe, no, probably maybe/probably so who fucking knows anyway   ill just keep doing the only thing im good at, being rolling with the punches