#sad bill in plaid = good

[the-fiction-witch]

Ice Cold

Media Love Actually Age Up

Character Sam

Couple Sam X Reader

Rating Sweet + Sad

Concept Second thoughts

I grabbed my case from the taxi jumping out onto the street, I paid and thanked him before I hurried myself inside the tall hotel, I passed the desk without a word and went to the lift pressing the button for the required floor. Once it stopped I got out and headed down the corridor until I found the door I'd been looking for knocking a good few times. I waited a little while before knocking again and on the second round the door opened.

He was leaning on the door, eyes barely open, hair a mess, wearing a old band tee and his blue shorts. 

"Y/n!" He smiled excitedly pulling me into the tightest hug and dragging me inside the hotel room "ummmm my second favorite girl in the whole wide world" 

"My god Sam how hungover are you?" 

"I'm not hungover" he says heading into the room and I was taken back by the utter madness of the once cute hotel room now a messy upturned hell hole "if anything… I'm kinda, still drunk" he says taking a beer from the table 

"Have housekeeping been by?"

"No,"

"Oh thank god. I don't want to even imagine the meltdown if Joanna got the bill for all this"

"It's my wedding to you know" he pouts collapsing on the sofa 

"Okay," I smiled setting my things down going over and wrapping my arms around his neck and shoulders "come on, what's going on in that blonde noggin?" 

"Im getting married tomorrow"

"Yes you are. It's perfectly natural to get cold feet Sam. Especially given your kinda drunk" 

"Just…it's nothing"

"You sure?"

"Yeah, come on we have stuff to do" 

"Alright" I went and grabbed my case and began working, I had been best friends with Sam for forever really, since we were tiny little kids mostly thought the school band where of course he plaid drums and I plaid piano so we often were stuck up the back next to each other on the large unmovable bits of equipment we became very fast friends and had been close forever, I even had a crush on him at one point but he had always been head over heels for Joanna for as long as I could remember and after reconnecting a few months ago they were getting married. It had all been a bit rushed but it was still really sweet. Even if Joanna had been a bit controlling of things, kinda bridezilla is not gonna lie. But the wedding was on a tight budget so to minimize costs the girls were doing there own hair and make up all of them being very skilled in such things and as I did a lot of hair and make up stuff for my photography job she asked if I could be incharge of making the boys look presentable which of course I agreed. So I was here today to prep the room and do a base sort of Sam ready to do him and his groomsmen tomorrow morning. 

"You excited?" I asked as I sat working in his nails 

"Course. Just… nervy is all"

"It's your wedding Sam it's fine to be nervous" I laughed "I take it the bachelor party was fun?" I asked glancing are the hotel room

"Ah. No. you know the rules. No penis no info. Bachelor party for boys only"

"Sam, I'm basically a boy."

"You don't have a penis"

"I have one in my bag then can I qualify?" 

"What Joanna ask you to check up on me?"

"No, I'm just curious"

"It was fun. I had a good time"

"That's good, that's the whole point"

"There weren't strippers."

"Ohh?"

"She'll ask you. I know she will. She was very clear about it"

"Okay, no strippers" I laughed "but…?"

"But?"

"But?"

"No. There wasn't. We most just got really really drunk and plaid video games"

"Awww sounds lovely. So long as you had fun" 

"Oww" he complained

"Ohh don't be a baby Sammy. If you took care of your hands and nails I wouldn't have to put so much work in"

"I don't think I need all this honestly. Just like a brush through my hair tomorrow seems like enough" he says 

"It's your wedding Sam she wants you to look nice for all your pictures and things,"

"What wedding photo is gonna show my nails?"

"I don't know… shot of the wedding rings?"

"Good point"

"plus I wouldn't wanna be holding hands with these callus meat claws for an hour in this state, you need lotion. And to clean all the dirt out" 

"That's fair. Plus it makes her happy to think I did it all"

"Exactly. Anything to make her less angry right now"

"Tell me about it" he sighed "still. It's nice just getting the time to hang with you"

"Yeah it's nice to just be with you too Sam" I smiled we continued in doing various things all to prep him for the wedding tomorrow I made sure his suit was all together and steamed, his hands sorted, his shoes shined, his hang over slowly being cured ready for a six am start tomorrow. he currently sat on his third hangover cure smoothie being misted by the little Steam machine in the middle of the skincare treatment I had done for him to clean his skin up for tomorrow 

"Why is this on such a budget?"

"Joanna doesn't like spending alot of money"

"I guess. Maybe stuff wouldn't be so pricey if you waited a little longer"

"I know but she wants it all over with so we can get on with life you know"

"No other reason?" I asked 

"...no. at least she hasn't told me if there is" he explained finishing up his face and we got sat down watching TV with a drink and some pizza

"Y/n?"

"Yeah?"

"Am I a bad person."

"For what?' 

"For second guessing? The night before my wedding? Shouldn't I be giddy and happy and barely able to contain my excitement and yet… I'm not. Is that bad?"

"No sam, it's fine everyone gets nervous, has second thoughts it's a big thing. It's okay your not a bad person for having doubts" 

"I don't know, everyone says cold feet is normal but… this is like ice cold."

"Do you love Joanna?"

"Yes"

"Do you wanna be her?"

"Yes"

"Do you wanna grow old and have bouncy little babies with her?"

"Yeah"

"Then you're fine." 

"Thanks y/n. I'm happy I'm here with you. Out of everyone"

"Really?"

"Of course you're my best friend." He says "I worry I won't really get to see you much after this"

"We'll still see each other"

"Joanna doesn't like you."

"... I mean. I kinda assumed that"

"Like really really doesn't like you. I had to fight to have you asked to do this for me. She didn't even want you to be invited"

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. She really doesn't like you" 

"I mean I thought she kinda wasn't a fan. Kinda sounds like she hates me"

"I did have to tell her a little white lie"

"Oh?"

"She didn't want you to stay here tonight. So she thinks you got another room."

"Ooooh your gonna be in trouble"

"I wasn't exactly planning on telling her. She already doesn't like you. She's stressed just… not tell her"

"Alright, our little secret."

"Our little secret" he smiled as we finished up our food "can I tell you a secret?"

"Go for it Sam" 

"I used to have a crush on you" 

I choked on my drink a little"what?"

"I did. When Joanna left again. I couldn't help thinking how much I liked you and I thought about asking you out, alot. All the way till I met up with Joanna again "

"Really?"

"Really."

"That's really sweet Sam. You wanna know a secret?"

"Yeah"

"I had a crush on you too"

"You did?"

"Yeah I kinda just assumed you were always just to love sick over Joanna to pay me any attention" 

"So all that time you and I could have?"

"We could. Another life I suppose"

"Yeah… another life"

"Come on let's get to bed early start tomorrow"

"Yeah you okay on the single?"

"I'll be fine. Sleep tight Sam"

"You too y/n" 

I woke to my alarm and immediate got to work setting up a station at the vanity Sam took a little while longer but eventually forced himself up "good morning Mr groom"

"Oh my god. I am… so hung over."

"Hang over smoothie?" 

"God yes. I'm gonna… go and sit in the shower a while"

"Sit in the shower?" I laughed pouring him another hangover smoothie as I had already made a batch ready for this morning

"Yeah in just gonna sit in the bottom and just kinda… exist." He says taking the drink

"Alright, don't be too long the boys will be here soon" I told him as he headed to the bathroom for his shower, soon enough one by one groomsmen arrived all of whom I knew of course, I did hair and some minimal photo ready makeup all while the guys laughed and joked getting themselves ready for the wedding. I was getting a little worried Sam had been in the bathroom all morning and it had gotten to the point now we had to get him out or we'd be late. 

"Sam? You okay?" I asked tapping on the door 

"Yeah, sorry I'm just I'm kinda struggling"

"Sam it's okay to be nervous, just come on out okay and we'll get you sorted" 

The door opened a tiny bit and he grabbed my arm pulling me in the bathroom

"Whoa! What the heck Sam" I complained as he relocked the door 

"Im sorry I'm sorry I just -"

"Sam. Tell me. What is going on?" I asked as I really looked at him dressed into clean PJ's from his shower his hair still wet tears staining his face

"I… I don't know if I can do this"

"What?"

"I know everyone's worked so hard. And we've put so much money and time but I just… I don't know if I can do it."

"Why not?"

"... because. Look I've been up all night, I couldn't sleep after last night. I feel awful I should be happy and excited I should have been too excited to sleep thinking about my wedding but - all I thought about all night. Was you. I spend all night tossing and turning thinking about what might have been." He says 

"Sam, that's sweet but it's your wedding today"

"I know I know. But I can't help it. I'm so sorry I don't mean to put you in a situation like this I just… I didn't realize that my feelings never really went away"

"Aww Sam. I don't think mine did either. But you're engaged to Joanna and you're marrying her today. We just have to move on and try not to think about the other life"

"The life we could have had. Together."

"Exactly. Come on or we'll be late" I told him going to unlock the door but he stopped me 

"Y/n wait" he says pulling my arm close and before I could say a word he leant down and kissed me I blushed hard and even teared up as I felt this firework of passion inside me I'd never had a kiss like that before when we pulled away I never wanted to leave his arms and I know he didn't want me too either "fuck."

"What?"

"I really hoped that would make me feel better. I think I just made it so much worse."

"Come on let's just uhhh get you ready" quickly I left the bathroom and took a moment to compose myself he followed suit greeting his groomsmen and taking his seat I struggled a little not to tear up as I for him ready finally giving his jacket a brush and his hair a fix as the boys left to get the car "how are you feeling?"

"Conflicted."

"It'll be okay you just, have to wait. I'm sure the moment you see her in her wedding dress everything will become clear"

"Okay," he nods trying to lean in for another kiss but I stopped him

"I don't think that's the best idea."

"Do you want to kiss me?"

"...I do"

"Then it's a good idea" he smiled giving my lips a final kiss softly and sweetly stroking my cheek as we kissed "I wish I'd done that years ago" 

"You should go Sam"

"Yeah. I need to go" he nods forcing himself away

I pushed my feelings down and just got on with things as usual taking my seat to watch the wedding I wanted to check up on him but I didn't want to put anymore doubt in his mind, the wedding began quickly and I noticed Sam looking at me I did my best not to look back at him when Joanna arrived she did look beautiful and Sam looked so happy to see her, I felt relieved but disappointed at the same time. It all went on as any wedding would 

"do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I don't."

Silence ran across the whole wedding as everyone sat in a moment of shock 

"Excuse me?" 

"I don't. I do not"

"Joanna? What are you talking about?" Sam asked 

"I'm sorry Sam. I didn't want to do it this way but - I can't marry you. It's not that I don't care for you, I care so much for you but we were childhood sweethearts and were not children anymore you're not the boy I fell in love with and I'm not the girl you loved either we've changed, we've grown and now… all that connects us is being childhood sweethearts. I thought it would all come back, that it would come back and be just like it was but I was being stupid. I can't marry you. You'll always be my first love, my first kiss but you can't be my husband. And… I've been seeing like for the last few months romantically" she explained oh my god I knew something was up about that, nowone goes to the gym together that much 

"You- you were cheating in me? All this time…"

"Yes, I'm sorry Sam"

"Uhhhh okay. If uhhh if you think that's best." He nods "what uhh what do we do then?"

"Well we've paid for everything might as well just have a party?"

"Yeah uhh okay. Sounds good" he nods clearly completely broken but what else do you say to that. And just like that it was over the wedding cleared out into the reception space everyone drinking and eating given everything was already there and had been booked and paid for eventually I found Sam drinking on the patio steps 

"You okay?" I asked sitting beside him

"Fine. Just got stood up at my own wedding" he says drinking some more "makes sense why she wanted a quick And cheap wedding. She wanted it over with hopes it would kick start our relationship again. When she didn't feel fireworks walking down the aisle she called it off."

"I mean, is it really a bad thing? I know it hurts but you were so conflicted about it second guessing for days. I know it hurts now but maybe it's for the best" 

"Maybe you're right. Maybe I was just being stupid. Who really marries first girl they get a crush on and expect them to actually have a healthy marriage" he says "I knew something was up with her and luke I just didn't wanna be a dick. Maybe I'd I had this whole mess could have been avoided"

"It's okay, none of us knew"

"sorry I'm just -"

"It's okay, perfectly normal to be emotional" I told him "come here" I cooed pulling him to lean on my shoulder

"Thanks y/n"

"Your welcome." I smiled kissing his head letting him whine and cry as much as he needed too "hey it's okay, come on. You wanna dance?" He shook his head "you wanna go get another drink?" He shook his head "you wanna go get some pizza and drop red wine down Joanna's white dress?" He nods "okay let's go get some pizza and drop a big glass of red wine down her dress" I smiled helping him up

"Thanks y/n"

"Your welcome,"

"Y/n"

"Yes Sam?"

He simply pulled me close and gently kissed me I smiled and kissed him back when he pulled away I saw him smile again "do you wanna come over and watch a movie together tomorrow?"

"What like a date?"

"Very much a date"

"I'd love too" I smiled giving him a kiss "come on before all the pizzas gone" 

[scnkisscdd]

- ( maude apatow + cis-female + she/her ) august by taylor swift is a song that describes margret ‘maggie’ holmes  to a tee !  the twenty-six year old has been on the island for their whole life. I heard you can find them walking around the strip or working at good as old as a/an co-owner . rumor has it they can be pretty - passive but if you ask their friends they would say they are more + loyal. i’m pretty sure they remind everyone of  driving with the windows down late at night, the peace you feel from looking at a sky filled with stars, and doodles on an old pair on converse shoes, but that’s for you to decide ? you’ll meet them soon enough, the island is only so big. - anna. thirty. she/her. central.

FULL NAME : margret addison holmes.

NICKNAME(S) : maggie, mags, mag pie

BIRTHPLACE: avalon, ca. 

BIRTHDAY : september 21st. 

ZODIAC SIGN : libra.

GENDER : cis-female.

PRONOUNS : she/her. 

SEXUAL ORIENTATION : heterosexual

OCCUPATION : co-owner of good as old.

HOUSING : two bedroom two bath house in the strip neighborhood.

FAMILY : father &. deceased mother. 

HEIGHT : 5’4.

EYE COLOR : brown.

HAIR COLOR : it alternates between dark brown + lighter brown.

TATTOOS : tiny cluster of hand-drawn stars (x) drawn by her best friend jace.

PIERCINGS : ears, all the way up to her helix on her left ear.

LIKES : sitting on the beach and looking up at the stars, plaid skirts, black combat boots, memes of cats, oversized sweaters the second it gets a little chilly, large tee shirts to sleep in, that feeling of a fluffy comforter straight up the dryer.

DISLIKES : arrogant people, people who are rude to customer service workers, the sad videos on tik tok of mistreated pets needing homes, being late to something, anything green being put on pizza.

✦── BRIEF BIO : 

maggie was born and raised here in avalon and it's very clear by the fact that she knows all the town's hidden gems; like the best place to see the most amount of stars outside the city and which place has the best take out. maggie was raised by her father who after her mother passed away in a car crash when maggie was four took over the sole responsibility of raising her. he always did his very best to give maggie the best most normal of childhoods despite not having her mother and knowing there would be a part of her that was always missing. ( also if anyone wants to play her dad I will slide you a nice crisp five dollar bill ) despite her mother's passing when she was young maggie had a relatively normal upbringing. her father and her grew to be extremely close and he always supported her in being the person she wanted to be. growing up she was seen by some of the kids as different or weird for her shy persona and her fascination with the stars so as a result she kind of reserved herself to those she felt safest with. this also meant that when she is forced into those social surroundings she finds herself trying her best to hid her insecurities to the best of her abilities. her comfort zone however, is definitely at home in her comfy clothes, watching her comfort shows. ( someone say mood ). present day she still lives in the town she grew up in, opting to be no more than a five minute drive from her dad. she co-owns the thrift store that she went from working as associate to taking over when the original owner retired. she spends a lot of time trying to give the thrift store both an updated and vintage feel that will apply to the younger crowds. she is still very much that sheltered, often shy, stays close to the comfort kind of girl.

 ✦── HEADCANNONS

she has two cats that she has recused, they are named simon and garfunkel. truly she would adopt more if she could without being that crazy cat lady.

she's a huge fan of the stars, the moon, aliens, etc, after her father used to take her star gazing as a way to talk to her mother.

if she trust you her love language in sending you memes and roasting you.

she owns a collection of plaid skirts that she often matches with a pair of worn out black combat boots.

loves sneaking out in the late hours of the night to go look at stars, that is the key to her heart. bonus points if you bring pizza.

due to her mother's passing she has developed a bit of codependency to the people she holds near and dear.

[heavyhearteddove]

Connected

Chapter three: Gossiping gossips.

New hair and new clothes Maggie had spent the week spending a lot of her savings on recreating a new image. Not for anyone in particular she didn’t know anyone here other than her mum and they weren't exactly on speaking terms right now but she wanted a new creation for herself. It wasn’t to ditch her old life but maybe a way for her to accept that this was a new life. New country and new school with a whole new kettle of fish. Big fish at that. Sons and daughters of the lavish and luxury. Maggie's old friends were nothing like these people. They all worked small jobs to pay for their social lives and clothes often too helping out their families with bills and food costs but they enjoyed every part of their lives because there were no expectation or pressure to be someone they really didn’t want to. No fear that if they went against their families they would be cut off financially. No care for the social class or price tags wrapped around another's wrist. They welcomed anyone into the group and treated each other like family and they really weren’t worried getting caught throwing hands if someone disrespected them because no one was around. No one around to call for daddy to bail them out or snap a few shots to make the news. It was an easy and carefree life but this past week all Maggie saw was people her age walking around in suits and faces of stone. She didn’t want to end up like these people. Yeah she understood everyone has to grow up. But into this...it wasn’t her life.        Fixing her hair she stepped back finally seeing herself before school. Tugging up her denim army green cargo trousers and shuffling her cream cropped vest top she brushed her hand through her slightly brushed mop and let out a heavy sigh content with her outfit for the day she pulled on her white trainers and grabbed a mixed brown plaid baggy shirt and white graffitied rucksack making her way down to the front of the student halls giving polite smiles to passer-by's with some smiling back and others turning up their heads at her cementing her original judgment in more.       The close autumn air was warm. The sun shined between the tall London buildings surrounding the campus. traffic was loud and hectic and people clearly late for where they needed to be rushed off down the streets accidently banging into others as they awkwardly ran on. If Maggie couldn’t live in Spain she would happily settle a small cottage in the middle of nowhere with the only sounds that came were from birds singing and sheep calling. Her thoughts of a quiet paradise cut short when she noticed a call from her mother. “Hello?” Maggie’s voice was cold and short. Still not budging when it came to apologising. She knew it was the right thing to do, she could see she made things hard for her mother like she was testing her loyalty and wits.       “Good morning dear. Did you sleep well?” Marina tried to sound cheerful but Maggie could sense there was a bit of sadness hidden in her tone she just didn’t want to show it.        “Ah mum what do you want? I’m on the way to class and I’ll be late if you keep bothering me!”        Marina took a small pause hoping that what she asked next wouldn’t push her daughter even more away from her. She was only calling to check. She cared and she needed her to know this. “I just wanted to check that you’d remembered your medication. Do you have enough?”        Maggie could feel a small lump forming in her throat. It wasn’t like it was odd for a mother to worry about their children's well-being. That wasn’t the issue here. Since the death of her father seven years ago Maggie stepped up to be the supporter and leader of the household when her mother did a piss poor job of it and so she had to manage her own well-being even more than before and in that seven years her mother stopped asking about her health or reminding her to take it. So when Marina asked such a sudden question after so long it angered her. It reminded Maggie of the hardest point of her life. Something she had to face alone. Of course her friends back home knew about her mental health and the battle she constantly faced and they were there when her father died but they had no idea she spent several times searching for her mother when she got angry and walked out the home or when she would picked her mother up of the floor and carry her into the shower to rinse the vomit from her body and hair or when she would force feed her mother food half conscious just to make sure she had something in her system. The list could go on. If her friends new about it all there was no way they would have let her leave. But Maggie couldn’t do that to them all. Being the youngest in her friendship group Maggie was often seen and treated like a baby but they cared more for her than each other. Maggie just wanted to prove she could handle shit on her own without feeling pathetic. She didn’t want to cause any worry or trouble. It was best to keep it all hidden and so when she saw her friend with a new burn mark trying to cook food or a new gash from her mothers empty bottles she played it off that she was just clumsy and they would pet her head and make her feel like she was three years old. Better to be seen as a clumsy oaf then the daughter of a mentally ill drunkard mother.          Not satisfying her mothers worries she ended the call, turning her phone off, she slid it into the front pocket of her bag and made her way to class rushing more now what she’d spent time reminding herself of a difficult past. Shaking it more from her head and pushing the dreaded feeling down further she opened the door of the class room to take a seat. Being a few minutes early gave her the advantage to choose an empty seat and of course Maggie being Maggie chose to sit at the very back near the window where she plugged in her phone and pulled out her laptop. 

Maggie rubbed her eyes feeling the strain hit her eyes with the majority of the day taken up by introductions from her professors and overlooking the schedule for the term being probed to take note of the key dates for assignment hand-ins. I have not missed this at all she thought remembering the same feeling she had back at college a few years ago. That when her mother began to get clean. Pick up her act and be a good mother. Maggie never really got an apology nor a thank you but then again her mother was mind was full to the brim of alcohol so who would remember and Maggie wouldn’t remind her. It was embarrassing and she feared she’d get into trouble for bringing it up. But when her mum got healthy and clean she took all the good things as a sign that she was grateful...until she met Philip and well it was as though all those years came and smacked her in the face.        Angry at herself for thinking even more into the past Maggie put all her belongings back into her bag and looked around at the rest of her peers. She hadn’t paid them much attention mainly due to the fact no one had spoken a word but she could tell everyone felt the same as her; drained. Like they would all be anywhere but here. Maggie just wanted to go and get her phone fixed and hand her prescription into the local doctors so that she could mentally rub her independence in her stupid mothers face but she now found zero energy to do any of that. She still had a working phone and she had enough tablets to get her through till the end of the week so she didn’t feel the rush. And of course like last time her inability to motivate herself and get distracted took its win and she soon crashed on her bed letting an early snooze take over.        Maggie stirred as she slowly woke up from her sleep turning to see the time she slapped her hand over her eyes regretting that she’d slept at all. It hadn’t even been that long, maybe an hour or two yet she was now feeling a restful buzz take over her head and she knew she’d be awake for hours. Looking at her phone she groaned internally at the sight of both her mother and an unknown number had sent her a text...

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[merakiaes]

A Day In The Life Of A Santo - Oscar “Spooky” Diaz

Pairing: Oscar “Spooky” Diaz x reader, Santos x reader (platonic)

Requested: Yes. 

Prompts: None. 

Warnings/notes: Same disclaimer as always; I’m really distracted so this is a mess, and it’s not proofread. But I hope you enjoy it, let me know what you think. Spanish translations at the end xx

Wordcount: 5097

Summary: The title says it all. How a regular day looks for the Santos when you’re the girlfriend of their leader. 

It was nine o’clock in the morning when you woke up from your slumber on this particular Saturday morning in July.

You didn’t even have to look outside to be able to conclude that it would be a nice day, the bright rays of sun slipping into the room through the closed blinds and the thick, humid heat hanging over you being more than enough to prove that to you.

In the corner of yours and Oscar’s shared bedroom, the fan was still spinning and slowly moving from left to right after you’d put it on throughout the night when it had gotten to hot for you to sleep, the low, whirring sound blending in with Oscar’s light snores.

With a deep breath, you shuffled up against the headboard of the bed and stretched your arms over your head, blinking to get the sleep out of your eyes and adjust them to the new light.

Warm breaths fanned across the side of your thigh and you looked down to see Oscar sleeping soundly beside you.

He was laying on his stomach with his arms tucked under the pillow he was resting his head on, his face turned towards you and light snores leaving his slightly parted lips.

One of his legs were pulled up slightly, while the other was close to falling off the edge of the bed, indicating that he’d fallen asleep the very same second his body hit the bed without taking any time to get himself comfortable.

His back was flexed, showing off the muscles he’d built up while in prison all those years, and all of the skin visible for your viewing pleasure was littered with dark, wide bruises after whatever run they had gotten called out for late the night before.

He was out like a light, not reacting in the slightest as you reached out and caressed a small cut right on his cheekbone, simply continuing his slow snoring where he laid sleeping peacefully.

You knew that he could use all the sleep he could get with how hard he had been working to keep the block safe lately, so you got out of bed as quietly as you possibly could to avoid disturbing him and patted out of your bedroom, closing the door quietly behind you.  

As if on cue, your stomach rumbled the second the door was shut behind you, leading you straight to the kitchen.

The air was quiet as you walked through the sunlit house. As you passed Cesar’s bedroom, you could hear him snoring lightly in an identical way to his older brother, and as you entered the living-room area the only sound you could hear was the ticking of the clock on the wall.

Much to your disappointment but not so much to your surprise, you found the fridge empty and unable to satisfy your hunger and cravings, the single banana laying on the top shelf not looking very appealing.

You were still dizzy with sleep and a part of you just wanted to go back to sleep and curl up in your man’s arms, but on another note, you were already up so you might as well get an early start to your day, knowing the Santos were going to show up sooner than later like they did every day.

So you took a quick shower and got dressed, sneaking around your bedroom in the search for wearable clothes without making as much as a sound.

You couldn’t find a clean shirt and seeing as your wardrobe door always let out a loud wail when being opened, you settled with Oscar’s black and grey plaid that you found on the floor, buttoning it up over your sports bra and tying it up at the hem of your jeans before heading off to the store.

You were gone no longer than half an hour and still, when you got back home, the lawn was full of Santos sitting around, drinking beer, lifting weights and listening to music.

Any other person probably would have been annoyed to find a bunch of gangsters just sitting around outside your house from the early hours of the day until the late hours of the night and at first, you had been, but then you got used to it, and also got to know them all well enough to know that they weren’t as mannerless and piggish as one would have thought based off of stereotypes.

Or maybe they were and just acted like gentlemen with you because they risked getting torn a new one by Spooky if they treated you like they treated everything else. 

Either way, you weren’t opposed to having them around, because they were always watching over you.

The second you parked your car upfront and stepped out, their eyes were on you, all of them calling out to greet you in some way or another. You waved back at them as you rounded your car, opening the trunk and bringing out two of the many grocery bags.

They stopped their lifting and drinking as you passed them and when you stopped to adjust one of the brown paper bags in your arms in order to avoid a can of beans falling out, Sad Eyes came up to you and wordlessly took the bag from your arms, a cigarette hanging from his lips and another tucked behind his ear.

When he did this, a chain reaction seemed to be triggered causing other Santos to get out of their seats, as well, all of them coming over to you.

“You need some help, Lady Spooky?” One of them asked and you nodded, smiling at them kindly.

“Please. There are more bags in the car.” You confirmed and they nodded back, throwing their cigarettes to the ground.

“We got you.” The Santo told you and threw a nod over his shoulder to the others, pointing to the car.

Without another word, they all rounded you and headed for your car, wasting no time in starting to pick up the bags from the trunk.

While they occupied themselves with that, you and Sad Eyes began walking inside, walking up the red, chipped steps of the porch.

“You still haven’t fixed your broken taillight.” He spoke up for the first time, letting you enter through the already open front door first.

You sighed, shaking your head. “I don’t know how to and Oscar’s been busy.” You answered. 

You instantly caught sight of a few other Santos sitting around in the couch inside when you entered, conversing lowly among themselves while sipping on their beers and smoking their cigarettes, a dozen of neatly stacked bills laying on the coffee table in front of them.

You didn’t bat an eye at the money, knowing it was none of your business, but the smoke hanging thickly in the air never failed to make you annoyed. 

You glared at them and to further prove your irritation, you dramatically waved your hand in front of your face to get the smoke away.

“Not in the house, please, boys.” You scolded them simply, walking right over to them and taking the cigarette out of one of their hands, putting it out on the ashtray on the table.

He kissed his teeth, an annoyed expression crossing his face to match your own, but he did nothing to protest, simply leaning back into the sofa and taking a sip of his beer. “Sorry.”

The others followed your example and put their cigarettes out on the ashtray, instead bringing another bag of money out to count while you and Sad Eyes moved on to the kitchen with the bags, the other Santos not being far behind with the rest of them.

While they wordlessly dumped them on the kitchen counter, grabbing the beer you ‘d bought and moving on to join the others at the couch, Sad Eyes stayed behind with you, helping you unpack the groceries into the fridge.

“You got the parts?” He brought the topic of your car back up as you worked together to get everything unpacked.

You nodded, moving on to put the dry goods into the cupboards. “Yeah, in the garage.” You answered.

He hummed and grabbed something from one of the bags. “Tell you what.” He said, causing you to turn around to face him, seeing him now holding up a package of ground beef and lips stretched into a small smile. “You fix us up some of your hamburgers and I’ll fix your light.”

Raising an eyebrow, you crumpled up an empty paper bag in your hands while shooting him an amused smile. “Wouldn’t you rather have some real breakfast?” You asked, and he instantly shook his head, chuckling.

“Nah, your burgers beat breakfast by far.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” You chuckled with him, throwing the paper bag in the trash and walking over to him, sticking out your hand with a teasing grin stretched across your features. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Guzman.”

He laughed at your childish antics, but nonetheless took your hand in his and shook it before wordlessly leaving you alone in the kitchen, the two of you going parted ways to hold up your respective ends of the bargain.

You finished unpacking the groceries on your own to the sound of Spanish chatter coming from the couch and loud, crude hip hop music sounding from outside on the porch.

Once you were done, you mixed the minced meat with the spices and other ingredients you needed to make a good, firm patty mixture, and prepared everything else that you would be needing for serving on a tray, carrying it all out to the backyard where you fired up the grill.

While waiting for the coals to reach the perfect fervency, you went back inside and walked out on the porch, seeing Sad Eyes now occupying himself with your taillight  and the others having returned to lifting weights on the lawn.

“Hey, boys!” You called out for them while leaning your elbows on the wall of the porch. 

They turned to look at you, stopping in their movements, and you flashed them a smile all while squinting your eyes against the sun. “If you move to the back I’ll fix you up some burgers.”

The second the word ‘burgers’ reached their ears, they had dropped everything they were holding and stood up, heading straight for the red fence in front of Oscar’s Impala to round to the back of the house.

That left only Sad Eyes who was still working away on your car, and he simply raised his fingers to his forehead to lazily salute you, telling you that he was fine and that he would be back when he was done.

You offered him an equally as lazy wave, before walking back inside.

When hearing you say you were cooking for them, the Santos who had been sitting in the couch had seemingly also disappeared to the back, the house now completely empty, so you locked up the front door behind you before going back outside.

The Santos were all now sitting around in the sofas in the back rather than in the front, music now streaming out from Oscar’s sound system in the living room and the variously aged men having started a game of cards.

While they occupied themselves with that, you tended to the food, wasting no time in getting to cooking the burgers once the heat of the grill was perfect.

You cooked them all medium-rare, knowing all of them well enough at this point to know how they preferred their meat.

When you were flipping the first batch, you dropped the spatula and burned your thumb on the side of the grill when out of instinct reaching for it again, but you didn’t get much time to think about it with the full-grown men repeatedly calling out for you and asking when the food was going to be done even though you had just started.

A whistle suddenly sounded from behind you as you were putting the last batch of finished burgers onto a plate, causing you to jump slightly.

Looking to your side, you caught sight of one of the higher-ranked Santos standing beside you with a Corona in hand, his other hand reaching for the burgers. “Let me get that first one.”

You instantly slapped his hand away, causing him to look at you with a nasty glare. But you weren’t affected, simply glaring back. “No can do, the first one is reserved for Sad Eyes.” You told him. “And speak of the devil and he shall appear.”

Your attention moved from the Santo to Sad Eyes who was now walking through the living room door, wiping his hands on Oscar’s red grease rag. “How’s the tail light coming along?” You asked, and he instantly looked up at you.

“All good, Lady Spooky.” He replied, dropping the rag to a table and coming up to you where you were standing by the grill.

“Well, then. A deal’s a deal.” You smiled, grabbing one of the patties and some bread.

You put the patty on top of the lower piece of bread and added everything you knew Sad Eyes liked on his burgers, holding the finished product up for him only a few seconds later.

He wordlessly took it from you and raised it to his mouth, wasting no time in taking a large bite.

You raised an eyebrow at him while closing the grill, wiping your hands on the front of Oscar’s shirt. “Good?” You asked, still smiling, and he closed his eyes as he chewed, nodding contently.

“Lo mejor.” He replied once he had swallowed, opening his eyes again and leaning down to press a sloppy, wet, brotherly kiss to your cheek. “Gracias.” He thanked you, before grabbing a beer from the cooler behind you and leaving you behind to wipe the hamburger dressing left behind by his lips off your skin with the back of your hand.

You chuckled with amusement, once again having to wipe your hand off on your shirt, and motioned for the other Santo that it was his turn to grab his burger.

He wasted no time and while he began building a burger of his own, you stepped away from the grill, looking over the backyard and yelling out. “Come get your food, boys!”

Like the other Santo, they wasted no time, putting down their beers and heading over while you started heading for the living room door.

“Yo, ma, where you going?” A Santo called out from behind you as you passed, causing you to turn back around.

“I’m gonna wake up that lazy ass still snoring away in the bedroom.” You replied, holding a finger out at him while smiling teasingly. “You better save us some food. I worked way too hard not to get any.”

Sad Eyes looked up from his already almost finished burger where he was now sitting in one of the sofas, nodding his head at you while standing up. “Don’t worry, (Y/N), I got you.” He promised. “I’ll make sure they don’t hover the grub.”

“You’re an angel.” You offered him a smile and kissed his cheek as he reached you. “I’ll be right back.”

He nodded at you and headed over to the grill where the Santos were now busying themselves with making themselves burgers, to grab his second one and hopefully live up to his promise to save you and Oscar some.

Without another word, you turned back around and headed into the house, heading straight for the bedroom.

At the end of the hallway, Cesar’s bedroom door was now wide open, meaning he must have left when you were cooking, most likely to go to Monse’s or Ruby’s house.

But your bedroom door was still closed, just like you left it, and as you opened it, you came to find that Oscar was still snoring lightly in bed.

Now, however, he had rolled over to his side on your side of the bed, holding your floral pattered pillow under his head tightly.

His back was turned to you, and the snores leaving his lips were now slightly louder than they had been when you left him, and you felt bad for waking him up.

But you knew you had to, or else he would get annoyed that you didn’t, so you pattered over to the bed and climbed onto it, crawling up behind him and wrapping your arms around his chest.

His snoring instantly ceased and out of instinct, his hands came up to grab yours were they rested on his chest.

You smiled at that, your cheek pressing against his feverishly hot back. “You gonna get up?” You asked softly against his skin, sensing his awakening.

He only grumbled under his breath in response, turning around where he laid, scooting down on the bed and pressing his face into your chest in one fluid motion.

His clingy antics brought a chuckle from your lips but nonetheless, you wrapped your arms around him and moved your body closer to his, allowing him to cling to you while caressing the back of his head with the tips of your fingers.

You stayed like that in silence for a moment, just listening to the music and voices sounding from outside. 

It was nice, and you didn’t mind it, but soon you could feel Oscar’s breathing slowing down again, and you knew you had to get him to wake up one way or another.

“The Santos are here.” You broke the silence softly, getting nothing more than another low grumble in response.

“I made burgers.”

He grumbled again, pressing his face further into your chest and letting out a long, warm breath.

“I missed you.”

His voice was muffled but you heard him clearly, your fingers coming to a stop where they were caressing his neck and eyes flickering down to look at him with a raised eyebrow as he finally brought his head back up.

“You’ve been asleep.” You pointed out, amused. “How can you miss me when you’re asleep?”

“I always miss you when you’re not at my side.” He answered without missing a beat, eyes squinted as he looked up at you, still ridden with sleep. “But I meant before. You were already asleep when I got back last night. Didn’t get to see you.”

His words caused a flurry of butterflies to go through your stomach and chest, and his groggy voice, deep with sleep, only intensified the feeling.

He was smiling up ever so softly at you, but you could see that he was troubled, and the cuts and bruises littered all over his face confirmed yours suspicions, bringing a sad smile to your lips. “Rough night?”

He hummed in response, bringing one of his hands up to pull it over his face while the other rested on your hip. He mumbled something incoherent into his palm and you creased your eyebrows together ni confusion.

“What was that, baby?” You asked, propping yourself up on your elbow to better be able to look at him.

He pulled his hand over his face again and let out a long, tired breath through his nose before removing the hand from over his face, now looking at you with slightly less squinted eyes.

“Beso.” He spoke again, his voice this time clear.

Your eyebrow shot up, lips tugging into an amused smirk. “Well, aren’t you awfully needy today.” You chuckled, but didn’t need to be told twice, leaning down to meet his lips that were already puckering in awaiting.

The kiss was sweet and short, or at least so you expected it to be. However, when you tried pulling away, Oscar moved his face right after yours and tightened his grip on your hip, his other hand rising to cradle your cheek in order to pull you even closer.

You smiled into it, but still made a second attempt to get out of his grip. “We can do this later, baby.” You mumbled against his lips, and he grumbled back.

“No, ahora.”

You giggled at the feeling of his warm hand sneaking under your, or well, his shirt, beginning to caress up and down your side.

You almost melted right into his affectionate touches, but you caught yourself before you could and brought your hand to his, pulling it back out from underneath the shirt and mumbling again; “Later.”

“Now.” He didn’t give up, and before you were even able to progress what happened, he had slid his wrist out of your grasp and moved his hand down to your ass where he delivered a sharp slap, followed by a very forceful grab.

You jumped at his sudden friskiness and, much to his dismay, jumped right out of the kiss. Your hand instantly went out to slap his arm, your eyes wide open and chest heaving up and down from the kiss you had just shared.

“Oscar!” You scolded, while he just laughed, eyes squinting up again and showing off his long, dark lashes.

His hand was still resting on your butt, caressing the pocked of your jeans softly and as you calmed down from your shock, you pulled him back to you, pressing another, much shorter kiss to his lips to quiet down his laughing.

“As much as I want to stay here with you, I’m hungry and I want one of the burgers that I made.” You told him against his lips as you repeatedly pressed small kisses to them. “And if we don’t get back out there soon, they’re going to be gone.”

He hummed against your lips, stealing another kiss when you moved to pull away. But this time he settled with that, letting his head fall back against the pillow again after that last one.

“Come on, get up.” You told him with a chuckle and nudged his arm, drawing a sigh from his nose.

He rolled over to his back and put his hands over his face, rubbing his tired eyes. But nonetheless, he then brought one of his hands to the edge of the blanket covering his body, throwing it off and putting his toned chest on full display for your eyes to feast on.

“You go back out there, I’ll be right out.” His voice still groggy as he kept rubbing his eyes and a part of you feared that he was going to go right back to sleep if you walked out.

But in the end, you took his word for it and kissed him one last time before heading out of the bedroom again, this time leaving the door open to let in some light.

When you came back outside to the backyard, you discovered that the boys had now moved the sofas that had previously been scattered over the backyard to crowd around one single table, on which they had now moved all of the food that had been standing by the grill when you left them.

They were all happily eating away at the burgers you’d made, chatting loudly in Spanish over the sound of the music that had now been cranked up even further.

But you didn’t mind the volume. As long as you got some food in you, you were happy, and luckily, Sad Eyes looked to have lived up to his promise and saved you and Oscar some, a plate with a few patties laying off to the side away from the rest of the food.

And he also seemed to have saved a spot for you, his legs manspreading over pretty much the entire sofa he was sitting in the middle of, only scooting over to the side when his eyes looked up to catch you approaching.

The Santos all nodded in greeting when you came up to them, but neither their eating nor their enthusiastic chatting ceased even a little bit.

You slid into the seat beside Sad Eyes and he wasted no time in handing you a separate paper plate holding a finished burger just waiting to be devoured, all while devouring one of his own in generous bites.

“Thank you.” You thanked him as you took the plate from him and he nodded, too busy chewing to speak.

You took the burger in your hands and didn’t waste another second before lifting it to your mouth, taking a bite and almost moaning at how good it felt to finally get something to eat.

The first bite was quickly devoured and before taking another one, you reached out to the table to take a can of coke, managing to open it with just one hand and taking a small sip before putting it back down on the table.

Taking another bite, you turned to look at Sad Eyes, your attitude now perked up significantly. “You didn’t make one for Oscar?” You asked and he glanced at you from the side as he finished his burger, shaking his head.

“Nah, I’m not about to get into that.” He replied, taking a gulp from whatever alcoholic beverage he was drinking from the suspicious-looking bottle in his hand.

You chuckled, turning your attention back to the burger in your hands. “Probably for the best.” You agreed. “He gets fuzzy if the toppings are put on in the wrong order.”

Raising the burger to your mouth, you went in for your third bite but instantly pulled back when the nasty, bitter juice spread over your taste buds.

You had to resist the urge to spit it out on your plate right then and there, instead carefully chewing around it until it was safe to pull the red onion out of your mouth.

Your nose automatically scrunched up at the sight of it and your first instinct was to throw it to the grass, but before you could, a hand shot out from behind you to grab it. 

You looked up just in time to see Oscar, now wearing a gray tank top and a pair of sunglasses, putting it into his mouth and eating it with no struggle whatsoever, whereas you would have thrown up, quite literally, had you even attempted to swallow it. 

Your disgusted expression only turned even more disgusted at that, but you said nothing as he rounded the back of the couch and slid into the seat next to you and wasted no time in grabbing a beer from the table.

“Food’s looking good, mamas.” He told you as he opened the sharp cap of the bottle with just his fingers, leaning back and throwing an arm around you while he used the other to take a sip.

“Yeah?” You questioned. “I hope it tastes as good.”

While he got comfortable beside you, you took another bite out of your burger before putting it down on your plate and starting to prepare one for him.

He watched with no protests nor complaints as you put the toppings on in the exact order he wanted, his hand reaching out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear to be able to see your face. 

“Your cooking is always good.” He replied, taking another sip from his beer while watching you intently. 

Sad Eyes shook his head where he sat beside you, now eating his- God knows how many burgers he’d had by now. “This shit’s not cooking.” He denied, licking some dressing off of his lips and taking another eager bite. “It’s sorcery.”

“You’re a lucky man, Spooky.” Another Santo agreed from across the table, and while you smiled to yourself, Oscar gave him a challenging look.

“I know I am.” He replied, holding his gaze for another moment before looking back to you with an amused smile now playing on his lips, and you didn’t need to see his eyes behind his glasses to know that they were squinted. “You keep spoiling them like this and they’ll never leave.”

“Hell, I’m already about ready to move in.” Sad Eyes joked from beside you, and Oscar instantly reached his arm over you to shove his shoulder playfully.

“En tus sueños. I’m not sharing.”

You chuckled at their playful banter, finishing the burger up, putting it on a clear plate and handing it to your boyfriend before anyone could say anything else. 

”Gracias, amor.” He thanked you gratefully and you smiled back, watching him take a bite and nod his head in approval.

“Of course.” You replied, reaching your hand up to his face to wipe some ketchup off his lip. “You boys deserve it for working so hard.”

He watched your every move, catching your hand as you were about to pull it away and wasting no time in beginning to inspect your thumb.

“What did you do now?” He asked, brushing his own thumb over the burn on yours, causing you to flinch slightly.

“I just burned myself on the grill, I’m fine.”

He let out a ‘tssk’, kissing his teeth and shaking his head. “Torpe.”

“Hey, watch it, or you’re not getting any tonight.” You warned, giving him a light glare.

But he wasn’t affected in the slightest, simply kissing the burn on your thumb and lighting up in a smug, playful smirk. “You know I always do, mama.” He teased you, kissing the burn again before taking another bite of the burger.  

“Yeah, yeah. Eat your burger.” You rolled your eyes, but chuckled as you brought your hand back to pick up your plate. 

Your happiness was shortlived, however, your face instantly pulling up into one of disgust again when you laid eyes on the burger. “And take this nasty ass onion, too.”

You pulled said onion out of the burger and dumped it on his plate without waiting for him to reply, then turning to look at Sad Eyes who was now contemptibly sipping on his alcohol.

“I thought you’d learn by now that I don’t eat onions, Jose.” You scolded him with a distasteful look, and he chuckled.

“I know you don’t. That’s why I put it in.” He answered and while Oscar and the others started laughing, you shook your head, cursing under your breath.

“Fucker.”

Sad Eyes ignored your anger and bumped his fist with Oscar’s in front of you, the two compadres taking equal pleasure in your misfortune. 

Luckily, you weren’t really angry, the short-lasting annoyance melting right off as Oscar pulled you into his side and from then on kept an eye out for any sign of onions in your burger.

Said burgers were gone not long later, but the good mood that the pleasant breakfast had left them all in lasted the entire day, all of them just staying in your backyard, drinking and belting out the lyrics of the Spanish songs playing on the boombox until later that afternoon when they were needed elsewhere. 

It wasn’t a very eventful day but it was where you felt most at home and content and just how you liked it; just an ordinary day in the life of a Santo.  

Translations (I’m not a native Spanish speaker so this might not be a hundred percent accurate):

Lo mejor – The best

Gracias – Thank you

Beso – Kiss

Ahora – Now

En tus sueños – In your dreams

Amor – Baby

Torpe – Clumsy 

Compadre - Friend

Tagged: @babienay @firebenderwolf @chaneajoyyy @moanlightbaby @dolanackles @marvelously-flawed @jazzwhitlockhale​ @joyrivh​ @socialistavocado​ @turn-diamonds-into-snow​ @clemmingstylins0n​ @fairygardenss​ @ugh-jalynn​ @spookysnena​ @shadow-of-wonder @bxmaaa 

[katherinewilliams221b]

For A Greater Good 17/18

Gif not mine just the text. Reunions

Summary: Kate Williams, young healer and member of the Order,  joins Durmstrang’s staff at Dumbledore’s request. Her mission? Find a     Death Eater and survive long enough to tell the story. Set in 1996.

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x ofc/mc

Masterlist

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

[Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10]

[Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14]

[Part 15] [Part 16]

Warnings:  mentions of sex (if you blink you miss it)

--

Sounds of voices drew Kate back to consciousness.

“She’s been asleep for far too long…”

“She needs rest to wear the poison out.”

Kate tried to open her eyes, but they were too heavy, it was going to hurt opening them.

“I think she moved. Did you see that?”

“Tonks, she didn’t move. Let’s go…”

“Bill, are you going to let her wake up alone in a dark room?”

She proved her fingers and tapped them, feeling something soft, a bed, then forced her eyes open and immediately regretted it. They stung like she’d just been stabbed with a quill.

The blurry image in front of her cleared in a matter of seconds, revealing a blue-haired Tonks staring intently at her.

“Oh, thank Merlin! That greasy snake of Snape gave you a sleeping draught and disappeared without a word. The bastard... next time I swear I will…”

“Tonks, let her breathe. Go and wake up Charles, he’d want to see her.”

Bill approached the bed and sat down next to her. Kate grimaced and looked around; she recognised the gloomy walls of Grimmauld Place. Noticing the nightstand, she pointed at the glass of water, and Bill urged giving it to her. After a few complicated sips, she leaned back and stared at the ceiling.

“You gave us quite a scare, sis.” 

“Why am I here?” She whispered.

“You… you came here. Yesterday. You’ve been sleeping for a day. It’s one in the morning.”

Her eyes travelled downwards and searched his. The door burst open, revealing Tonks and Charlie, who was by her side before she acknowledged him.

“How are you feeling? Are you hungry?” Tonks practically shouted, holding her hand and missing Charlie’s disapproving look. Kate hissed at the touch but grasped her hand, anyway.

“No, I’m... thirsty.” Charlie helped her sit against the headboard while Bill handed her the glass again.

Kate took some complicated sips and gave Charlie a weak smile. Instead of returning it, he gently grabbed her arm and lifted her sleeve, revealing a big scar that went from her elbow to the inner centre of her forearm.

 “This looks much better.” Kate’s eyes widened at the sight.

“What in the bloody hell happened to me?”

Bill stood up and walked to the window, staring out of it, and Tonks sat in his place. Kate hissed at the cold contact of the cream that Charlie was rubbing on her forearm.

“You were poisoned, we don’t know exactly how. You had scratches, nothing else.” Kate pointed at her arm and raised her eyebrows.

“And this?” Tonks flinched, remembering the scene; seeing her unconscious friend with blood all over her body was a sight she would not forget.

“I don’t know what happened, I think you panicked and apparated here, or someone brought you, you just appeared on the street. You splinched,” she pointed at her arm. 

“You cast vermillious at the windows and Mum and Snape ran to you.” Said Bill. “You were mumbling something about a parchment and trying to cure your arm without your wand. I don’t think you were aware of what you were doing.” He made a pause when their eyes met, and he turned his head to the window. “You made it here in one jump, I’m surprised that’s the only thing that happened.”

“Bill!” Tonks admonished and started to protest, but the redhead stopped her, waving his hand. “I’m only saying she was lucky. Northern Europe to here? In one jump and poisoned? She could be dead.”

When Charlie slid her sleeve back down again, she touched her forehead and leaned back, registering all the information she just learnt. A parchment… a parchment of what?

“Where’s everybody?”

“Mom’s asleep and Dad went to Durmstrang to get your trunk. Sirius is downstairs with Mundungus, I don’t think you’ve met him yet, just don’t mention your family is wealthy.” Charlie answered.

A minute, perhaps two, was the amount of time Kate sat on the bed in silence, staring at the void and registering her situation.

Bill turned around from the window at the lack of words and threw a questioning glance at Tonks and his brother, who just shrugged almost imperceptibly.

Too many questions were dancing back and forth in her head. None of them had any answer, just another branch of unsolved mysteries.

“Now you need rest...”

“The list.” Kate scanned the room, searching for the coat she had been using. “The list!” She fumbled with the covers and the two pair of arms that were trying to hold her back.

“What are you talking about?”

Kate stumbled to a chair and frantically rummaged through her cloak before throwing it to the floor in disappointment.

“That parchment I was talking about. I found a room; a room with books, papers, artefacts and horrible devices. In that room there was a one parchment in particular with... something important… and I… I can’t remember” She knocked the lowest part of her palm to her temple and closed her eyes.

Bill frowned before walking towards her. “What are you saying…?” Kate tilted her head and bit her lower lip.

“I just don’t remember reading it… but I know it was important. But I can’t visualise it. It’s like it was… blank somehow.”

“Invisible ink?” Interrupted Charlie, but Kate shook her head.

“Someone was writing that. I could hear a quill against the paper. But no one was there with me. That woman, Mer Yankelevich, saw it too. She wasn’t a Death Eater, at least not yet. But I’m sure she would have...” Realisation hit her, and she gasped. “What happened to her?”

Charlie stood up and grabbed a robe that was lying on the end of the bed before putting it over her shoulders when he noticed her shiver. After taking her uniform off, she had been left with only an undershirt and her underwear.

“Moody sent an owl this morning saying it was taken care of.”

“We need to find that pa…” She was left mid-sentence when a new thought occurred to her. “You said I’ve been here for a day.”

“Y… yes but what…?”

“I had it with me before apparating. In fact, that’s why I did it. I remember being with Yankelevich, taking the roll, and leaving without a second thought. If it’s not here now…”

“Someone stole it.” Finished Bill.

“But that’s impossible! There’s been at least one person with you all the time.” Said Tonks. “Bill, Charles, myself, Mr or Mrs Weasley, no one else.”

“Kreacher.” The three friends looked at Bill. “Kreacher came in here once. I surprised him stealing one of the portraits. I’m going to tell Sirius to have a word with him and then I’ll go home.” He kissed the very top of her head and hugged his brother goodbye before squeezing Tonks’ shoulder and leaving the room.

“I think I’m going to take a shower.” Kate said after a moment of silence, trying to sound more confident than she actually felt. Tonks’ hair changed to a pastel purple and yanked Kate to her. They squeezed each other before letting go.

“Are you alright?” Kate asked, and Tonks scoffed before nodding.

“I forgot to bring you clothes, you’ll have to use the things I keep here.” She heard Charlie say. Kate smirked and turned her head to look at him. She had understood the real meaning behind the unnecessary comment; I’m here too.

“It wouldn’t be the first time…” He reciprocated the smile and opened his arms allowing her to run to them. He held her against his chest and closed his eyes, squeezing her perhaps a little too tight. It was right, it felt right being able to hold him again. Almost six months had passed, and Kate had forgotten the feeling of his strong hands against her back, his smell, his soft curls caressing her nose. The shirt that she had brought with her could only do so much. She exhaled against his neck, finding a long-lost comfort she furiously craved in her stay in Durmstrang.

Lost in the sensation, they barely acknowledged Tonks slipping out of the room.

“Do you want me to help you in there?” A smile formed on his lips, but she didn’t miss the hint of sadness accompanying it. She pursed her lips, clearly amused, and detangled herself from his arms, a chuckle escaping her lips as she shook her head. “I don’t want to find you lying on the bathtub because you passed out or…”

Kate grabbed his head with both hands, burying her fingers in his hair, and pulled him to her again, this time pressing her lips firmly against his. His arms circled her instantly, knowing they belonged on her lower back. They didn’t deepen the kiss, Kate kept it long but chaste, reassuring him she was alright.

“I’ll be quick.” She murmured, millimetres away from his mouth. Charlie nodded without taking her eyes away from her mouth, brow furrowed. With a light kiss on her cheek, he let her go.

“Go. I’ll get you the clothes.”

 Kate observed herself in the old and rusty mirror of the bathroom. With a towel wrapped around her chest and another one covering her wet hair, her arms and neck were now exposed. She traced the redness of her collarbone. On one side, claw marks adorned the base of her neck.

She shivered, a mix of fear and cold from being out of the shower created an icy line down her spine. She then noticed the promised clothes on a stool beside the toilet, and the side of her mouth curled up slightly. The little sneak. A genuine chuckle escaped her when she averted the black boxers neatly folded on top of the jeans.

With the plaid shirt tucked inside the trousers, she secured them with her own belt around the waist, the excess of fabric pooling out of it. After rolling up the sleeves and the ends of the jeans, she tied her ankle boots and ventured outside.

Suddenly hungry, Kate followed the voices coming from the kitchen and found some members of the Order gathered around the table. She approached Charlie, who was deep in thought while cutting some slices of bread.

He didn’t look at her, something that shouldn’t have worried her since he was handling a knife. However, when she sought his gaze, he just tilted his head to the other side and pointed at the chair behind him.

“Sit, I’m making you a sandwich.” Kate kissed his shoulder and deliberately caressed her way down from his neck to his lower back before going to the table. Is a talk in order, love?

Bill and Sirius sat in front of a man, engaged in a passionate argument about the candlesticks of the house. Mundungus Fletcher, Charlie’s voice echoed inside her head.

“...and I saw the one in the music room just yesterday, so I don’t know what are you… oh, hello. Mundungus Fletcher, a pleasure, I don’t think we’ve met.” he leaned forward and stretched an ostentatiously ring-adorned hand at her. Kate just stared at it and then held his gaze with a hard look that made him stumble backwards in his seat.

“No. We’ve never met. But I know your name. You are the man that failed Harry Potter. You let dementors attack him.” 

Mundungus stuttered an answer, but Sirius intervened. “Fletcher! Don’t talk to her. Talk to me. Where are those candlesticks?”

“I told you! I don’t have them!”

Kate searched in his mind, a slippery one, for sure, but she managed to find truth in his words and indicated so with a brief nod to Sirius.

“It’s your lucky day, Mundungus. If I catch you…”

“I know, I know!” He raised his arms, declaring innocence, and grabbed his filthy hat from the table before apparating out of the house. 

“Kreacher probably hid them somewhere,” commented Bill. Sirius merely nodded and drank from his goblet.

“How are you feeling?” He asked as Charlie set a plate down in front of her and a glass of water. He squeezed her shoulder and sat in front of her. Someone is really tense, she thought.

“I’m feeling better, thank you.” Probably one of the best lies she had ever told, but or Bill didn’t notice or was considerate enough not to press her further.

She then looked around and for the first time noticed the fatigue in their faces; Bill was toying with a ring; Sirius couldn’t take his eyes off the goblet and Charlie leaned on his elbow. His chin rested on his palm, covering his mouth.

They stayed with her while she ate, an unnecessary but kind gesture that confused her.

“Where’s Tonks?” She grimaced at her own words, the sound piercing in her ears.

“Asleep. She collapsed when you were in the shower.” Said Bill in a hushed voice.

Charlie scratched the subtle stubble it had formed on his jaw and grabbed her empty plate. She hadn’t noticed it before and couldn’t help but stare.

“And we should, too.” Sirius emptied his goblet and stood up, throwing it in the sink. When he walked behind her, he rested a hand on her shoulder, murmuring a dull “Good night”.

 Charlie and Kate blew off all the candles and went to the room she’d woke up in. Closing the door behind him, he let out a deep breath and sat on the side of the bed to take his boots off.

“I left the letters your dad sent me on the desk. ”

Kate approached the table and picked up one to read it. The envelope had her name on in, but when she opened it, she discovered she had underestimated her father.

 Dear Mr Weasley,

We’ve only met once, but I’ve decided to trust you with my daughter’s safety. It has reached my ears that Katherine’s whereabouts have changed since I last saw her and I felt the need to express my disappointment in both of you, since I’m aware that you’re the only person who will know about any secret she might have.

However, I’m not writing to reprimand this behaviour, but to require updates about her situation. In exchange, I have decided to provide a financial support for both of you, knowing your income won’t be sufficient to sustain you in these complicated times.

A second letter will arrive, notice this time from Sydney, since I must attend to some business regarding drug regulations in Australia.

I expect your enthusiastic collaboration,

Joseph H. Williams

  “It’s always surprising how he can appear helpful and insult you at the same time. Tomorrow I’ll...” Kate turned then, and the despair on his face frightened her more than facing a blood-thirsty Death eater. His eyes were glossy and rested his elbow on his knee, imitating the earlier pose, covering his mouth with his hand turned.

“Charlie, hey. Hey…” she strutted and stood right in front of him, his head rested against her stomach. She grabbed the sides of his head and forced him to look up at her.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong, she says.” He choked a sarcastic laugh to no one. “Kate, you were gone for six months!”

“We’ve been apart for longer than that.” She whispered, begging that he would do the same.

“But this time was different... this time... this time you were surrounded by potential murderers. When I received a letter, I didn’t feel excited to read it, I just felt relieved because you were alive. And I…” he tried to calm himself down, but he just managed a shaky breath. “I didn’t know where you were, so if something happened to you, I couldn’t go there and help you. And then…”

A tear had escaped from the corner of his eye and she caught it with her thumb, never releasing his face.

“And then I receive a letter from Bill saying they found you laying on the street covered in blood and shaking and, Godric help me, I was so scared… so scared…”

He was crying now, and the only thing that Kate thought she could do was press his head against her stomach and tangle her fingers in his hair.

They stayed like that, Charlie hugging her waist and Kate holding his shaking body against hers until his sobs quieted down.

She could feel the pain, the desperation, the distress in his mind and looking at the ceiling was useless because she finally let her own tears fall.

He moved after a while and brought a hand to his cheeks to dry them before sniffling.

“What kind of Gryffindor this makes me?”

She sighed and palmed his forehead, brushing back the curls that had fallen in front of his face.

“Something that I admire about you is that you are not afraid to admit you are scared. I could learn from that myself.” He stared into her eyes but said nothing.

Kate hooked a finger on the elastic band holding the short hairs that managed to stay together and pulled, hopefully releasing some tension. 

“So, you found them?” When she waved the band in front of him, he let out a watery laugh, making her smile. “I have to do a better job next time…”

He pulled her hips towards him, and she straddled his thighs, rapidly gaining balance with her knees.

Stop hiding my hair ties, she heard him think.

With their foreheads touching, she kissed the side of his nose.

“I’m here, Charles. I’m alive.” He nodded and buried his face in her neck, breathing her in. Kate just held him a little tighter.

 “I know, I know…” He pressed a kiss on the base of her neck, putting enough pressure as not to tickle her, and her eyes automatically closed. She massaged his scalp and felt him relax.

Charlie’s hands were suddenly alive, and caressed her back, up and down, while placing more kisses along her neck. Keeping her breathing normal while trying to follow his hands and mouth’s movements was proving to be very, very difficult.

“Kate, I don’t want to think about what happened anymore.” She nodded and felt him tug at the shirt out of her jeans. He snuck his hands under it and repeated his caresses again, now feeling her skin.

Kate opened her eyes to start an exploration of her own, but she caught the mark on her arm and halted. Charlie stopped as well and looked at her, starting to apologise.

When she shook her head, he followed her gaze to find the scar that now adorned her skin.

“With the cream that mom gave me it will go away. And if it doesn’t…” He paused and leaned back just so he could take his own shirt off.

“...we’ll match.”

She chose to ignore the sparks that formed in her stomach because of his exposed chest and focused on his arm. An old big scar from a nasty burn covered his shoulder, and she leaned down to kiss it, like many times before.

“Maybe I should do like you do. Maybe if I kiss it enough, it will disappear.” He followed the mark on her arm with feather lips, putting more pressure here and there but keeping his touch light all the way to her shoulder.

With a surprised gasp, she let herself fall over him when he pulled them down on the mattress. Balancing on her forearms, she was now nose to nose with him.

“You just wanted an excuse to show off…” she murmured, lightening the mood.

“It works every time…” She opened her mouth to feign offense, but it backfired the moment Charlie trapped her lips with his own at the opportunity.

“How dare y... hmph”

She let him control the situation, partly because she was dizzy thanks to his touches, and partly because it seemed like he needed it.

They kissed long and deep, and Kate noticed the desperation in it. She paused again, suddenly worried about him.

With one arm she kept her balance, and with the other she touched his jaw, his cheek, his lips, tracing them with her thumb. His eyes were pooled with emotion again, and she tsked.

“I have to go back to the reserve tomorrow. If... if you don’t want to do this, at least sleep here with me. Please, don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” She moved her hand behind her, and the door locked. On its way back, the candles consumed except the ones on the bedside table.

“When all of this is over, I’ll take you on a date, a proper date.” She scrunched her face and sat up, straddling him again, and let her hands roam on his chest, feeling his toned muscles and the soft copper curls on it.

“Your idea of a date doesn’t normally include a romantic setting... are you planning on dragging me to the forest again to examine unicorn excrements or whatever…?”

“You once brought me to a cemetery.” He deadpanned.

“There was a Mimbulus mimbletonia growing out of a stone wall! Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that.”

“Oh, yes... very romantic.” He rested his hands on her thighs and squeezed his way up, reaching her hips and then her waist, where he pulled again to resume their previous position.

 A hand cradled her neck and moved her hair to the other side, leaving it exposed and available for consumption. He feasted there until her breath became heavy, that same hand going for the buttons of her shirt. He stopped the movement, and she nodded, searching his lips again.

She would find the parchment and deal with her father the next day. At the moment, she wanted to focus on her beloved partner, and try to forget that she didn’t know when they were going to see each other again.

--

[Part 18]

--

Tag list: @eldritchscreech

@meteora-fc​

@cazreadsstuff 

@the-navistar-carol​

@am-i-space​

[blouisparadise]

Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics posted or completed during the month of July. We really hope you enjoy this list and that you give these fics a lot of love.

Happy reading!

1) Your Good Time | Explicit | 3070 words

Louis nodded along with what the guy was saying, apparently his arousal taking over his brain to mouth filter as he said, “Who would want to hide a fit bloke like you? That guys an idiot.” Louis scoffed, dramatizing the word ‘idiot’, giving the guy a sly smirk. The guy leaned an arm against the bar, turned his body to Louis and fixed him with a curious look before he held out a hand.

“M’Harry.”

Louis and Harry meet in a bar when Harry's date is an ass. Inspired by Temporary Fix by One Direction.

2) I Push You To The Limits | Explicit | 3846 words

Louis is a brat who likes seeing his boyfriend get jealous and possessive over him.

3) Overkill | Explicit | 4354 words

Louis was never going to get over how fucking attractive Harry was. How glorious his big, tall, curvy body was. The feeling of Harry behind him, hot and heavy, trapped on the tube after they’d been somewhere during rush hour. His thick hands, full of pretty rings sometimes, handing Louis a cup of coffee, then getting one for himself.

4) Too Nervous to be Lovers | Mature | 6445 words

Louis doesn't want to spend quarantine with Harry, his straight roommate, who doesn't even acknowledge his existence.

5) Fratboy In Love | Mature | 6830 words

Harry Styles was a frat boy who loved to sleep around and flirt with boys and girls. Louis was a good uni student who loved to stay in and study and wasn't much of a partier.

Insert his best friend Niall who talks him into going. Louis gets drunk and ends up sleeping with harry. The next day he leaves before Harry wakes and tries to avoid him at all costs. Thinking Harry wouldn't care since Louis was just another conquest. But what if Harry did care. And actually have a crush on Louis. Read and find out

6) My Sunflower | Mature | 7057 words

Louis would rather be sunbathing at the beach with his friends, not slaving his spring break away in his father’s flower shop.

7) Waiting | Explicit | 8023 words

Louis Tomlinson was Harry’s omega, of this Harry had always been sure. Unfortunately for Harry, Louis seemed to think they were just best friends. The six weeks that Harry has to live with Louis were going to be rough.

8) Shine Light Upon Your Ground | Explicit | 8506 words

Note: The fic pairing is Louis/H, which the reader can picture as Harry or Henry Cavill.

Louis sighs again and fiddles with the bracelet on his wrist, twisting the charms around and petting the fake diamonds.

“How much for a night?” A deep voice suddenly asks him. The man who approaches him is already pulling out his wallet and flicking through a bundle of bills. Louis, who had been sitting at the bar completely innocent and minding his own business, lets out an offended, strangled sound.

“Excuse me?” He demands, straightening up in his seat. The hem of his dress creeps further up his thigh but he pays it no mind.

9) Glistening Under The Sun (You're My Honey Soaked Love) | Mature | 8996 words

“Oh Petal,” he picks her up nuzzling the top of her head with his cheek as she nibbles on the lavender, “How lucky are we? I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy, the only thing we have to be sad about is that soon I won’t be able to hold you like this,”

10) Connected To The Heart | Explicit | 9059 words

Note: This is an coda scene for this fic.

“Your stage cue is way too close for you to be wearing that look you’re wearing,” Louis informs him. He can’t stop himself from looking up at Harry through his eyelashes, the silk of Harry’s dress shirt brushing against the backs of his knuckles.

“Twenty minutes,” Harry agrees. His breath is minty from the gum he was chewing earlier, fresh and warm. “Twenty minutes can be a long time, baby.”

This time, Louis has to force himself to roll his eyes. “Not nearly long enough for the way you always want to fuck me.”

11) Fuck U Betta | Explicit | 11438 words

There’s something about having Louis like this, exposed and desperate, that makes a primal urge bubble up from deep inside Harry’s chest. Desire mixed with something else, something unquantifiable. It’s the thing that makes them want this, need this. Nothing else will satisfy them or quench their thirst.

OR the one where Harry likes the thrill of the chase, Louis likes to be chased, and everyone gets what they need… in the end.

12) Kiss Me In Your Chevrolet | Explicit | 11569 words

"Yes, Lou?" Harry asked, rubbing his tired eyes. A gust of wind came through the open windows, sending chills down Harry's arms as a light rain began falling outside. He closed his eyes again and let his head fall back to the couch arm rest.

"Can we go there?" Louis asked, probably pointing somewhere. Harry opened his eyes and felt his heart jump in his chest, a magazine page a couple of inches away from his face. Startled, Harry closed his eyes and breathed heavily, trying to collect himself.

Harry blinked a few times to focus his eyes on the page Louis still held in front of his nose. "You want to go to the Grand Canyon?" He furrowed his eyebrows, tilting his head to the left to look at Louis' face.

13) Pull The Trigger | Explicit | 12007 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic, which is #16 on this list.

Louis has never been alright with killing. Will that change when he learns what it's like to be the one holding the gun?

14) Open All Night | Explicit | 12537 words

It’s six in the morning when Harry finally makes it back home.

Harry's a bartender, Louis' got a nice ass and a shit taste in men. They make it work.

15) Among Other Things | Explicit | 16073 words

“Harry, it’s 7:45, oh my god, my class starts at 8:15,” and Louis wants to cry. Harry’s busy under the bed trying to find the tiny silver key but Louis knows that fate just hates him and he needs to find a way to get up. “Harry, I—fuck,” Louis whines. Harry stands up in a rush.

“I can’t seem to find them. It. The key.”

Or, Louis’ the teacher of Harry Styles’ daughter. Their paths shouldn’t cross like this. This meaning Louis showing up to school handcuffed to a headboard.

16) A Bullet And It's Gun | Explicit | 18156 words

Note: The sequel to this fic is #13 on this list. 

Louis’ parents arrange his marriage with Harry. He’s fully ready to accept that he’s going to be a sad and lonely person for the rest of his life. But then Harry starts proving himself as more than just an asocial man with money.

17) By Such Slight Ligaments | Explicit | 26764 words

Note: The fic pairing is Louis/Henry Cavill.

A late night visit to a patient sets off a series of events that will turn Louis' world upside down.

... Here there be monsters.

18) At Your Fingertips | Explicit | 27384 words

He finds himself wrapped up in sheets in bed on Thursday night, staring at the familiar name on a new story that was posted the night before.

His fingers twitch, ready to hit play and surrender to his impulses, saving the regret and turmoil for later.

And still he hesitates, internally praying that he’ll somehow gain the strength to exit out within the next few moments before he inevitably loses his patience and hits the button.

Three…

Two…

One.

Play.

19) Forgot My Roots Now Watch Me Bloom | Explicit | 28334 words

Lonely transit worker Louis pulls his longtime crush, Peter, from the path of an oncoming train. At the hospital, doctors report that he's in a coma, and a misplaced comment from Louis causes Peter's family to assume that he is his fiancée. When Louis doesn't correct them, they take him into their home and confidence. Things get even more complicated when he finds himself falling for Peter's brother, Harry. Loosely based on the movie "While You Were Sleeping".

20) Push You Out, Pull You Back In | Explicit | 31544 words

Harry hates feeling vulnerable. Louis is set on breaking through his tough facade.

21) Baby Blue | Explicit | 39439 words

Harry Styles takes his time coming out to greet them. Louis only knows what he’s seen on file and what he’s heard them talking about, but he fully lives up to the image he had inside of his head.

He saunters down the front steps of the farmhouse in his Levi’s, brown snakeskin boots curving out from underneath the denim Louis’ sure he had specially made. He’s got on a plaid button-down tucked into the jeans because of course he does, curls spilling out from either side of his cowboy hat around his sunglasses and country-tan skin.

“Harry Styles,” he drawls, extending a hand to Louis’ manager, “Pleased to meet ya’ll.”

22) Lidocaine And Palm Trees | Explicit | 44653 words

Heat, fake tans and lots of traffic.

Harry never expected to earn his living this way when he moved to LA.

Louis didn't think he could ever be the same after his divorce.

A lighthearted story about two guys trying to find themselves in the vibrant, sprawling city of Los Angeles, with a side of technical porn industry stuff.

23) Sleeping On Our Problems | Explicit | 67369 words

Louis sleeps with Harry and they have more than just catching feelings to worry about.

24) Truth Would Be | Explicit | 91869 words

“You want me? I’m not a… a thing to be owned!” Louis stuttered, still very angry and confused.

“Hmmm…” The alpha tapped his lips as if he was contemplating something. “Last time I checked, the debt was paid off and the only thing I had asked in return was… you. So technically I do own you.”

“You are crazy…” Louis muttered as he began to back towards the door. Harry’s impossibly green eyes turned a shade darker, but his tone was still teasing and light when he said, “Maybe I am…”

The I-paid-off-all-your-debt-so-you-are-mine AU in which Omega Louis wants to be left alone by Alpha Harry but it's super complicated when he starts to not hate the alpha all that much.

25) Collision | Not Rated | 224594 words

Note: This fic was finished in 2018, but two new epilogue chapters have been added.

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[sunlightdances]

Two Hearts on Fire

Title: Two Hearts on Fire Author: Katie @sunlightdances​ Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader Prompt: “If you need my shoulder, or my hand, or a hug-” Rating/genre/warnings: PG-13. Mentions of alcohol, canon-typical violence, and swearing. Summary: 3 times Dean was there for you when you needed it + 1 time you were able to repay the favor. Disclaimer: I don’t own Supernatural or Dean Winchester. Please don’t repost my work on any other sites without my written permission! Reblogs are encouraged! Please, please, please reblog creators’ work if you like it. Likes are amazing and beautiful, but sharing your favorite work has such a big impact and really makes my day. Author’s Note: I reference the Reader’s military history only because I just rewatched Generation Kill and have First Recon on the brain. I’m aware that the Marines don’t allow women into that Battalion, but let’s just pretend they do.

Links to my full masterlist can be found on my blog!

One.

You’re in a bar, the kind your mother always told you to stay away from, but you’re a little drunk, a little reckless, and a lot sad.

You concentrate on the amber liquid swirling in the glass in front of you, the sounds of the jukebox in the corner as some old, sad country song plays, and the way the world is just a little fuzzy at the edges.

Someone sits down next to you.

Not too close, but close enough that you can smell the musky scent of his cologne, and something sharp and metallic underneath. He’s tall. Broad. He glances at you, double takes. You mentally roll your eyes, preparing yourself for the inevitable pick-up line, but it never comes.

He drinks slowly, like you are. He doesn’t say anything, just a few murmured words to the bartender when he wants another glass.

He doesn’t even look at you, really, until someone sits down on your other side. Too close. Wandering eyes. Your shoulders tense. You prepare yourself for the inevitable line - what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this, or some similar variation, but it doesn’t come.

Instead, a hand, low on your hip, a threatening voice in your ear.

“One wrong move and I’ll kill you and the girl my friend over there just met in front of this entire bar,” he says, and you struggle to keep your face neutral as you look across the bar, a girl who can’t be older than nineteen giggling as a man twice her age whispers to her, his eyes locked on you.

“What are you?” You ask conversationally, taking another sip of whiskey.

“Like you don’t know.”

“I’m not hunting you.” You tell him, and his grip on you falters. It’s the truth - you’re a hunter, but you’re not hunting. Not tonight, anyway. You would laugh if you weren’t in a potentially life threatening situation - it figures the one night you want to take a break and relax, you end up mixed up in someone else’s hunt.

“What the fuck are you talking about? We scented you outside--”

“She might not be hunting, but we are.” The man on the other side of you speaks up, and you glance at him sharply, wondering how much of this entire exchange he heard. He tilts his head in the direction of the door. Another man dressed similarly in plaid and jeans stands there, twirling a knife in his hands, eyes hard.

“What the hell is this,” the man at your back growls.

“You’ve been terrorizing this town long enough. Time for your friend and you to eat one.” The man says, gulping the last bit of his drink, before standing and facing the two of you.

Despite yourself, your pulse starts to race. This isn’t ideal - a threat at your back where you’re vulnerable, a girl who has no idea what she’s walked into across the bar, probably close to being dinner for the men you’ve figured out are werewolves.

“Seems like a lose-lose,” you say casually, making eye contact with the hunter in front of you, trying like hell to figure out his next move.

The air is tense, and almost as if you’ve practiced it before, a wink from the hunter is your cue to elbow your assailant in the ribs hard, stomping on his feet at the same time.

You duck, just in time for the hunter to sucker punch the wolf with a hard left hook, his grip loosening enough for you to get out of the way. The man across the bar growls loud enough for you to hear, and you only hesitate for a half second before you’re moving, him meeting you halfway.

The other patrons are scrambling, the bartender yelling, but you ignore it all, concentrating with all your might on subduing him enough to get yourself and this innocent girl out of the bar.

You dodge a few swipes, alarmed when you see his claws out, and you curse under your breath, your reflexes slowed by alcohol just a bit, enough to make you nervous. The fight closer to the bar continues, and just as you think you’re about to bite it, another hand grips your shoulder, shoving you aside in time for you to regain your footing.

The two werewolves fully engaged, you grab the young girl’s arm, her eyes wide and filled with tears. You drag her outside, ignoring the fight behind you as people spill out of the bar, the bartender yelling that he’s called the police.

“Listen to me. You need to get on a bus, and get the hell out of town. Don’t come back for a week or two, maybe longer.” You find your wallet, shoving a few bills in her hand. She just stares at you. “Do you understand? Go!”

She nods frantically, taking the money and turning before running down the street.

Sighing, you turn back towards the bar, cracking your knuckles. Before you can do anything else, the noise stops, and the door opens. The hunter who had been with you at the bar looks around quickly before his eyes land on you.

“You okay?” He asks, gruff.

“Fine.”

“They’re dead,” he says bluntly. “Knocked the bartender out long enough to get them outside. The police are on their way, though.”

You nod. “Need help with the bodies?”

He considers it, but shakes his head slowly. “We got this one.” He tilts his head, “You really weren’t after them?”

You grit your teeth. “It’s my night off.”

He stiffens. “We don’t get nights off.”

You roll your eyes. “Well, whatever. Thanks for your help, but I--” really, really don’t need this tonight, you think, but decide just to stop talking. “I have to go.”

When the other hunter comes out of the bar and stands there, tall and imposing, you realize who they are. And you definitely don’t need to get involved in whatever shit the Winchesters are dealing with these days.

“Good luck,” you say, waving a hand nonchalantly before heading out to your car, passing the infamous black Impala on your way. You’d laugh if you weren’t so depressed.

They’re still there watching you when you glance in your rearview as you drive away.

Two.

“Any day now, Claire,” you say through grit teeth as you shove all your body weight against the closed door at your back, trying like hell to keep this angry spirit out, though a voice in the back of your head tells you it could just give up and go right through the wall.

“Going as fast as I can!” The younger girl tells you, and finally, finally the lighter in her hand whooshes to life, the canvas in her other hand lighting quickly.

The lights flicker like mad as the spirit screams, and then it’s all quiet, and you slump against the door, nodding at Claire across from you. “Good job, kiddo.”

Footsteps on the stairs startle you, as does the doorknob rattling.

“Shit, not again,” Claire swears, and then the unmistakable voice of Dean Winchester is on the other side of the door.

“Claire, open up!”

“Oh, come on…” You groan, pulling away from the door so you can open it. Yanking the door open, you’re greeted with Dean’s surprised expression.

“Oh.”

“What are you doing here?!” Claire nearly wails, clearly upset. “I told Jody I had a partner for this one, I had it under control!”

Dean, to his credit, looks a little chagrined. “She just said--”

“That I need a babysitter?”

You look back and forth between them, really not wanting to get in between whatever pseudo-family drama is brewing here.

“I think that’s my cue,” you say quietly. “So I’m just gonna--”

“How come she doesn’t get yelled at?” Claire asks, and you’re suddenly reminded about how young she is.

Dean snorts. “Because she’s a grown ass woman, and Jody didn’t send us here to yell at her.” He looks over at you, a smirk barely repressed.

You roll your eyes. “I don’t really do family drama, so if you’ll excuse me--”

“Wait!” Claire calls, and when you turn around, she’s already there throwing her arms around your shoulders, hugging you close. You stiffen. You’re not used to this affection - the way the young hunter is still so full of life and enthusiasm… it’s the way you remember being a long, long time ago. “Thank you,” she whispers before letting you go.

Head down, you smile gently. “No problem, kiddo. Stay out of trouble.”

You shrug past Dean Winchester in the doorway, his impossibly imposing figure making it hard to get by without brushing against him a little, and you scowl when he grins at you. Antagonizing little shit, you think, but you’re smiling a little too.

He finds you later at the 24-hour diner down the street, like you suspected he would.

A cup of steaming coffee is set down in front of you, and then he’s there, like he’s been conjured out of thin air.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

You hum in agreement.

“You don’t say much, do you?” He asks, but it’s not tinged with annoyance or mocking like you’d expect.

“I don’t know you. What do you want, my life story?”

He shrugs. “Your name would be a start.” He winces at himself, “that sounded like a line. Not how I meant it.” He takes a sip of his own coffee. “Claire talks about you like you’re old friends.”

You meet his eyes. “She’s a good kid.”

He nods. “I know she is. Just gets in over her head sometimes.”

You’re both quiet for a second. You have purposefully isolated yourself from anyone else in the hunting community because you’ve had enough camaraderie to last a lifetime. It never left you with anything but a broken spirit. Why Dean Winchester thinks he’s going to change that, you have no idea, but you suppose you can’t fault him.

You’ve heard all about him - the most surprising thing (heard from Claire and from Jody) being the way he seems to adopt every single person he meets. Everyone becomes part of the family whether he wants them to or not.

You tell him your name.

He frowns. “Why do I know that name?”

You tense up again, and he looks at you dead in the eyes, really looks at you.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“You’ll figure it out eventually,” you sigh. “I was in the Marines. First Recon. I was a medic, and it was a total shit show. When I came back, I wasn’t the same person. I couldn’t fathom working at an office or some other shitty job. I met a friend of a friend who had a connection to hunting. Really hush hush. I had the skills. They needed help. The end.”

He looks surprised, but he regains his composure quickly. “And the friends?”

Your hard stare meets his. “Gone.”

He doesn’t press you. Doesn’t ask you who they were or what happened, he just takes the information for what it is - a story a thousand hunters have about a hunt gone wrong and an accident. No one’s fault, except you had your share of not-your-fault incidents in Iraq that still led to your friends dying. You were tired of it.

“Well. If you ever need any help or get in a pinch, we’re happy to help.” He says.

You know you won’t take him up on it. By the cautious look in his eyes, you think he knows that too. Still, it’s the thought that counts.

After he leaves, a waitress slides a slice of pie in front of you.

Confused, you look up, “I didn’t order this.”

“Your friend did.” She says, winking.

Dean Winchester, you think, the exact sort of friend I don’t need.

Three.

You’re pretty sure this is it.

There’s a blade at your throat, and the only reason you aren’t already dead is because the fucking vampires can’t stop arguing with each other.

You wonder if you’ll see your guys again in heaven, if that’s where you end up. Judging by the amount of civilian death you saw in Iraq, you’re not so sure. You picture the men you couldn’t save, the blood that you swear still stains your hands, and think that it’ll be nice to see them again. If only so you can properly repent.

You wonder if your hunter friends will be there too.

You’re distracted from your admittedly morbid thoughts by a knock on the door. It’s loud.

The vampires stop.

“Who is knocking?”

The other one literally shrugs. You roll your eyes. Is this a buddy comedy or a hunt?

One vamp tiptoes close to the door, and before they can do anything, the door flies open, splinters raining down, and the vamp is nailed in the face with the door, falling to the floor unconscious.

“Sorry to barge in,” Dean says. “You’ve got something I want.”

You snort, and have to laugh when you can see Sam Winchester over Dean’s shoulder rolling his eyes.

“What is this, SVU?”

“A little gratitude would be nice.” Dean says, frowning.

The vamp still holding a blade to your throat makes a choked noise. “Excuse me?!”

Dean’s eyes flick to his. The green in his eyes goes from warm to icy in a second. “Sorry, am I keeping you from something?”

“One more step and the girl dies.”

Sam steps into the room and smiles sunnily at you. “I feel like we’ve done this before.”

“Seems familiar, yeah.” You reply.

“Enough!” The blade digs into your throat.

The bickering and bantering has given you more than enough time to saw through the bindings on your wrist, but you’re in no hurry to give away the game. You feel a trickle of blood run down your neck and see Dean’s eyes narrow in on the spot. You just hope he keeps his cool long enough for you to work your way out of this.

“Let her go.” Sam says coolly.

“I don’t think so. Just to get my head chopped off?”

“Seems like a you problem.” Dean says.

“Boys, it’s been fun. But I have to go.” You say, seconds before you rear back, headbutting the vamp behind you. He drops the knife, sending it clattering to the ground, and you’re out of your seat to throw a hard right hook before he can react.

Sam and Dean react quickly, brandishing machetes and taking care of business while you check the other rooms in the house to make sure you’re alone.

Meeting back in the kitchen, you’re already recovering your bag that was taken from you and digging through it for your aid kit.

“How’d you do that?” Sam asks quietly. His eyes stray down to your neck as you wince, pressing a pad of gauze to your wound. “Get out of the ropes, I mean.”

You take out a long bandage, winding it around your neck. Without prompting, Sam steps closer and takes the loose end, helping you tuck it in where you can’t see.

“Thanks,” you say, distracted. “I keep a knife taped to my forearm,” you say. “Took forever to get it loose, but they didn’t check before they tied me up.”

Sam nods. Dean walks in a second later, eyes narrowing at the point where you and Sam are touching. You’d roll your eyes if you weren’t trying to make sure you don’t bleed to death.

“Need stitches?” His voice is gruff.

You shake your head. “No. Should be fine. Just a graze.”

He nods.

“How’d you know I was here?”

“Jody called. Said you were supposed to meet up and you never showed. Tracked you down from there.”

Digging through your bag one more time, you find your phone. “Feels like this is beginning to be a habit. You might as well put your numbers in.”

Dean looks like he wants to make a smart remark, but he doesn’t. You’re grateful. “Are you good?” He asks, eyes on your neck again.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t get all emotional or anything.” He teases, and you roll your eyes yet again.

“Asshole.” You murmur, but there’s no heat behind it. “I have to go.”

They give you a ride back to the rest stop where the vamps ambushed you. You’re so tired you wonder if you shouldn’t take them up on the offer to keep you company, but then the faces of all the friends you’ve lost swim in front of you, and you remember why you can’t get close to them.

The Winchesters are too much trouble, even for you.

+1

You keep dreaming that your phone is ringing.

You wake up to someone pounding on your door, your heart racing, and you grip your gun tight as you make your way to the door.

“Open up!” A gruff voice demands, and your shoulders slump.

“Christ,” you mutter. Opening the door, you’re greeted with a pale and shaken Dean, Sam��s arm slung over his shoulder. “What the fuck happened?”

“Stabbed,” he says in a rush. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Get him inside and on the bed.” You say quickly, darting to the bathroom to dig out the med kit you keep fully stocked but luckily haven’t had to use since Iraq.

Back in your bedroom, Sam is groaning, and Dean is muttering platitudes.

“Sam? Sam, hey.” You say, hovering over him. “Look at me, Sam.” He meets your eyes. Luckily his pupils are both the same size, and you smile at him. “There you are. Hi, Sam. You’re going to be okay.”

Dean hovers, and you try to ignore the feeling of his eyes on you as you work.

“I’ve got to get the shirt off,” you tell Sam. “Don’t read anything into it.”

He smiles despite the pain he’s clearly in.

“Sam, can you breathe okay?”

He doesn’t answer. He’s writhing a little, and you force yourself to concentrate.

“Sam,” you repeat, more forcefully, trying to get his focus. “Can you breathe?”

“Yeah, I can breathe. Jesus Christ.”

“Good, that’s good. You’re going to be okay, Sam.”

The wound isn’t too deep. Missed anything important. You relay the information to Dean, who settles a little, perched on the side of the bed as you begin cleaning Sam up.

“Stop squirming,” you chide softly. “Dean, grab his hand or something. He needs to stop moving so I can stitch him.”

The process of cleaning him up and getting him stitched is almost robotic. You can’t count how many times you’ve had to do this in the Marines. You just pray that this time ends better than some of the others.

“Sam, can you squeeze my hand?” You ask, stopping what you’re doing and reaching for the hand that’s not currently being held by Dean. He squeezes tightly. “There you go,” You soothe. “Gonna have a scar, Sammy. I’ve been told women like that sort of thing.”

“Shut up,” he mutters, but he’s smiling when you look up. “Fuck, that hurts.”

“Sorry,” you say, pulling the last stitch and tying it off as quickly as you can. “You have to stay put for a while, okay?”

“I was going to run a marathon.” He deadpans.

You chuckle and meet Dean’s eyes. He’s not smiling, not even a hint of his lips twitching, and you start to panic that he might be hurt too before he lets go of Sam’s hand and heads towards your kitchen.

Finishing up with Sam, you tell him to rest and that you’ll check on him in a few minutes. He squeezes your hand again, and then you head to check on his brother.

A glass clinking draws your attention to the kitchen table. Dean’s found your whiskey stash.

“Dean?”

He looks up. “Sorry for barging in here like this.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be.” Sitting across from him, you watch him carefully. “He’s going to be okay.”

Dean takes a deep breath. “I panicked. I’ve stitched him a million times, but he was bleeding so much-- I didn’t know what else to do.”

“That’s okay, Dean.” A beat, and then you add, ““If you need my shoulder, or my hand, or a hug-”

He lets out a watery laugh. “Shut up.”

You grin, plucking the glass from his hand and taking a sip.

“You don’t do hugs.” He adds.

You shrug. “I don’t know. I might, for you.”

His eyes are dark when they meet yours. “I’m really glad I met you,” he says softly.

It sounds crazy, but you think you can literally feel some of the darkness that’s hovered over you for years starting to clear. “I’m glad I met you too.” You reply, just as quiet, the two of you sharing the same glass of whiskey until it’s gone.

Maybe this is how you find your peace. Maybe you let these two guys in, let them be there for you in a way you’ve rarely let other people.

Maybe there’s something more here than just you watching your own back at every turn.

Later, when the two of you are squeezed onto your bed on either side of Sam, trying to catch a few hours of sleep while keeping an eye on him, you meet Dean’s eyes again. Wordlessly, his hand reaches for yours and gives it a squeeze.

You don’t let go, and neither does he.

You finally fall asleep, your heart already feeling lighter.

For the first time in almost a decade, you have no nightmares.

[muffindaddystyles]

HIP DISLOCATION AT FIRST SIGHT.

Summary: where you're a waitress at Harry's favourite friends-hangout spot, he secretly likes you and you're having a rough day.

Warning: angst and fluff.

You're a beaming sparrow rolling onto balls of your feet from one booth to another taking orders and being sure of customer's satisfaction at it's peak. Sure, managing a five to nine waitress job isn't anyone's dream but paying tuition fees and bills can make anyone work.

Harry loves to be at this resturant you work; perhaps there's something 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 he loves rather than goofing around with his friends at late hours in any of the booths in far corner.

When he first came here it was for a date who stood him up and you wouldn't lie that you kinda tiny bit of manifested for it but went through a broken heart seeing Harry's sad eyes after him lingering to that one hope that his date would show up.

He was relieved that you helped him at that time with you again and again popping your head just to ask him, if he needs any refills for which he would just kindly quip 'thanks love, bu' it's already tipplin' out from rim.' Or you askin' him if he'll like to fill his belly with some appetizers? Poor him didn't ate anythin' from menu just waiting for his date that day.

From that you got to know he's such a gentleman who got his heart stepped on.

He found you enticing. So, fuckin' beaming even with all of the customers tantrums. Them fussing around for the mess their kids created and Harry couldn't take his eyes away from the slight curve your body molded into when you walked away from him.

With his few more visits you got accustomed that what he likes and the one favourite dish of yours from the resturant you recommended him one time, he licked the plate clean giggling coyly at your reaction.

But today it's different. He's chatting around with his friends, they look super chill, comfy clothes, relaxed postures and a train of light conversation that never seems to end.

You were admiring them from your spot waiting for the tray of food for the table 201 ready to take Harry's and his friend's order after that, suddenly a whine escaping from your lips and you bended your calve to soothe out the drastic pain in your hip-bone.

Zoe one of the hostess gave you a sympathetic smile handing you the tray, "hurtin' like a bitch." You hissed to her toes curling. You've been having this pain for like a week but whatever exercises you're doing it wouldn't budge to ease out.

Maintaining a decent gait you headed towards the last table of your shift before closing, smiling at all of them sweetly, whatever you did not to lock your gaze with Harry it anyhow happened by Cupid's wishes.

"Hi everyone, I'm your waitress and will be takin' your orders." You chirped taking out the sequin notepad from the front pocket of your lace apron and Harry's friends couldn't help but to notice how the tips of his ears turned red, eyes glassy with adoring sheen and lips quirking up shyly.

You noted down everyone's littlest of details turning your head down towards Harry, your voice immediately cooing into a soft one softer than you usually use to be polite with costumers.

"And Harry you'll have your usual?" He cleared his throat coughing into his elbow and everyone stifled a fond laugh just for his sake, "yes, please." His please was so gentle that it melted you over the pastel mauve tiles almost making you forget your pain.

The moment you spinned with your back behind them Harry's loving female friend pinched his cheek, "looks like someone gotta girl crush."

Everyone was chatting but Harry's mind and heart was all for you, it didn't slip out from his sheer notice that you're having it rough today; ponytail loose, cheeks flushed not with the warmth you feel from Harry's presence but with the pain zapping in your leg like an electric shock.

His eyes stayed glued to the way your nails coated into hot red nail polish aren't drumming against the counter as they usually do when you wait for the order instead they're clutching around the edges tightly paling your knuckles and now Harry feels concerned.

Another contraction but you didn't startled yourself. No way you're gonna get made fun of yourself infront of Harry, it would be so embarrassing.

Harry peers up at you with a frown when you heads to their table for refills but you didn't meet his eyes. What his friends will say? That you're a cheap waitress drooling for a bambi eyed, hickorey curls, sunny guy.

But damn when your hands wavered while lifting the jug to pour a glass of water, and you sucked your bottom lip to swallow your agonising gasp Harry wanted to lurch from his seat and ask you what's happening because it's frustrating at this point looking you being so wrecked.

You weakly smiled at all of them. Harry wants to stop you by grabbing your hand but he wants to respect you and doesn't want him to cross his boundaries.

You're back with a tray loaded of food and you're putting plates onto the table when an unbearable contraction of pain twitched inside you badly and you cried out a scream of horror, the tray slipping from your hand to the far corner of the table. The pain's so much your breath has got stuck in your chest causing you too see white.

"Y/n!" Harry panics hot on his feet scooping your side in his arms when you lurch forward unconsciously, even the tears aren't falling from your eyes stayin' at the bayline and you cry out in spurts of breaths dropping Harry's heart to his arse when he got the indication you couldn't breath.

"C-can't...b-" Harry immediately rubbed your back in soothing circles whispering with his honey rasp, "breath fo' me yeah, darlin'?". "S'alright. Jus' breath alon' me." You nod and everyone watches you in shock pity. At Harry's countdown you exhaled and inhaled breaths, his friends are in awe a love-at-first-sight, baby-steps love story is unraveling infront of them.

Harry makes you sit at his seat and you giggle shamefully breathily eyes glossy, "Thank you Harry. Can you..can you call zoe for me? She's right behind the counter." The words burning inside your throat and you're expecting another zap.

Harry's a bit hurt. He doesn't even know why! He wants be the one to take care of you but why you aren't gettin' it, why!?

You want to apologise to his friends but all the words just vanishes when zoe comes padding hurriedly Harry behind her with ever sad eyes, "bubs what happened?"

You're about to speak but another contradiction like someone's pulling at your vein and you're a goner but Harry's by your side holding your hand ignoring the twitch from your hardcore grip as if you'll fracture his hand too, "ah fuck! I think so I broke my hip. I'm fuckin' sure, it feels like dying." You scream jerking your leg and even though Harry's friends shouldn't look at you two with so much awement at the moment but they're still doing so because fuck they all are planning the same sight of both of you at the time of your labour because it may seems like you're popping out Harry's child outta your vagina at the moment.

"M'takin' ye' to hospital." Harry says with stern firmness in his voice because fuck boundaries he can't see you in such pain, "s'okay zoe can you take me to hospital?" You hissed writhing but Harry cuts you off. he's loosing his shit, "I don't care, can't see ya like this lemme help ye'."

Next thing Harry's helping your limpy body outside into the backseat of his car and the whole ride he's beside you one of his friend driving the car, you were a blushing mess at some second but another arching your spine so hard and Harry's instantly wrapping you up in his arms whispering sweet nothings through your tears.

You've gone through a little surgery and it's hour after you're shifted into a room that Harry takes a sigh of relief, you groan fluttering your eyes open the very first sight of yours is Harry into his yellow jumper and plaid trouser looking a tad exhausted.

You're on anesthetic and you're sloppy.

"Hi love feelin' kay? You went through a tiny surgery." He informs you but you pouts in response ignoring everything coming straight to the point, sober you would have never got guts.

"A-are ye' me boyfrien'..?" Your words are bit lisped and poppish, Harry chuckles swiping his thumb at your forehead.

"No' yet. Will be if ye' wan' me to." You bobbed your head like a good little girl observing your odd surroundings and fat tears sticks to your cheeks.

"What happened buns? Should I call doctor? Y'hurtin somewhere?" But you denied lower lip swelling for no reason or maybe medication.

"I've so mu-sh uni work to do, an' I've nothin' to wear on our date." Harry giggles wiping away your tears kissing the apples of your cheeks, stroking your head and you mewled like a kitten making Harry's throat go dry.

"No worries bunny. We'll go on a date whenever you'll want to." He just wants to shower you in his undeniable affectionate kisses but he's holding back, "fo' now go to rest. I'll have m'sober bunny peeking from the meadow in mornin' yeh?"

"Promise me you wouldn't leave?" You asks with doe eyes and he just wants to smash his lips to yours. Fuck. He waited so long.

"Did I, before'?" He asks you kissing your forehead gently trying not to irritate the plaster of your hip. You shook your head tucking your chin inside the comforter, "then I wouldn't even now."

In the morning you find your fingers buried into soft mess of curls and he was already up before you could try to even move your finger, "Harry?" Your voice hoarse from the drowsiness and he cups your cheeks asking if you're feeling dehydrated but you chuckled shaking your head.

"I feel high." He tucks his bottom lip inside his mouth at the fact you look more ethereal from this close, "high from anesthesia." He quips.

"Do you remember anythin' from last night?" He's anxious now how he'll bring to actually ask you out, "I do, from me litreally shouting like a lady bout to give birth to crying for not havin' any dress for our date." He's amused not just at the fact your memory didn't slipped but that you're more chatty and bubbly outta your waitress persona.

"Then it's solid?" He asks timidly and you nod humming coarsely leaning to peck his lips but he grabs you by neck not letting you pull back, thumbs all stroking, mouth moanin' for you and eyes closed into bliss.

"Wanted to kiss ye' so bad from so long." He deepens the kiss not caring if any doctor comes marching right now.

"Now I'm all yours to kiss. Kiss me whenever you want to."

[thedarkestcrew]

Rubiam nightmares headcannons and other coping stuff because I like being sad apparently

- Ruby when she was helping the reds needed a day off so what if before Sam and Lucas left,

- Sam being a good friend calls Lee on Ruby's phone and is like 'hey Ruby is going through it give her a call in 5 minutes and just talk about things'

- Liam knows the drill after being woken up when Ruby has a nightmare at her parents house or he has one

-usually to cope they would have cuddled together and just been okay knowing the other loved them and is close, hearing their heartbeat, smelling them, feeling them.

-But they can't do that with a state between them, so they'd call and say something like ' peaches'

-that would be code for' hey I'm sorry for waking you up but I'm going to have a panic attack if I don't hear you so please talk about anything at all and I love you' that's too long to say and peaches is easier when you're panicking.

-So they'll just talk about what they had for lunch, make fun of the man in the park that fell down and then glared at the floor like it insulted him

- debating what Ice cream flavor is the best

-how 'how to train your dragon' is a better trilogy than 'star wars'

- why they'd rather be a bird or a dog rather than any other animal till they both decide being a fish is best

-Any thing and everything and when they calm down enough and are laughing at some absurd not at all funny joke the other said they talk about it and feel better knowing they don't have to keep it to themselves like they have a habit of doing

-by the end they keep their phone on just to hear their breathing,

- and hug a pillow pretending its them but knowing it'll never feel quite as soft as the plaid shirt Liam wears because Ruby loves it, or never be as warm as Ruby and smell like that one shampoo she uses.

-their parents know why their phone bill is so high but they try to compensate by mainly texting their other friends so they can spend 50 hours a month with each other.

-anyways Liam calls 5 minutes later Ruby's face lights up when she sees him call and grabs a pillow

-I just want Sam and Liam doing stuff because Ruby herself said they were very similar; they both put Ruby above themselves and know when home girl is going through it or hasn't slept in a while because she used to do it a bunch at camp and east river/ranch and they will not tolerate it

[uneq-apol--arts]

Duped

AO3

Summary: (Reverse Portal AU) Stan and Dipper discover they have a lot more in common than they thought. 

Warnings: references to alcohol abuse

Genre: Familial Fluff

Characters: Dipper Pines, Stan Pines

Notes: Requested by @hurricanelistmaker. There may be some references to the RP Mind Wipe AU. This just really reminded me of it.

----------

The past week had been an absolute whirlwind of weird. Not just the Gravity Falls type of ultimately harmless. No, this weird was a weird that could've destroyed the world if done incorrectly. First, the youngest Pines discovered their seemingly boring Great-Uncle Ford was building a doomsday device in a basement they knew nothing about. Second, from that portal arrives another great-uncle the youngest Pines knew nothing about! 

On the topic of Great-Uncle Ford, Dipper couldn't find him anywhere. Someone had moved the axolotl feed to where Dipper couldn't reach it. Judging by the muffled bangs from below the house, Ford was down in the basement again, where the children weren't allowed. The younger twins hadn't seen hide nor hair of their caretaker since his brother returned. 

Great-Uncle (or Grunkle, as he insisted the children call him) Stan was a pretty cool guy though. In the past week, he'd already taught Dipper and Mabel how to box, sword fight, and swindle some suckers from town. Dipper questioned his morals but went along with his lessons anyways. Stan had even questionably obtained a sketchbook for Dipper to write in instead of Great-Uncle Ford's old journal. 

Back to the problem at hand for the youngest Pines, someone had moved the axolotl feed. There weren't any step ladders in the house that Dipper knew of and standing on the couch to reach the little blue canister seemed too risky. 

Dipper left for the nearest room noise came from: the kitchen. "Great-Uncle Ford!" 

-----

Stan swore in all the languages he'd learned. He was going to go mad living here! He'd only lived here a week and he was getting sick of all this organic junk Ford lived on. The cranky old nerd was spending all of his waking hours in the basement pulling apart the portal without help. 

Seriously though, how did his nutters brother and the children live on this "health food" junk? Fruits and vegetables? Gross. It was quite possibly worse than what Stan scrounged up in the multiverse! That at least tasted like meat! 

Stan was just about tempted to murder Mabel's pig if it meant he could get some good grub. He didn't care if she hated him for it! 

He did. 

She was wonderful. 

At a loss, Stan grabbed a piece of bread and stuffed it in his mouth, satiating his dripping appetite. From the doorway, Dipper called out for his dumb drunk great-uncle. 

-----

Dipper stopped short in the kitchen doorway, his next call dying on his lips. Leaning back on his heels to see the higher cupboard shelves was the boy's estranged, one-armed, great-uncle. "Great-Uncle Stan?" The man in question spun around dangerously quick and stumbled. A piece of bread hung from the man's mouth. 

"Um." Stan's mouth fell open and the saliva-soggy half-eaten piece of bread hit the tile floor with a disgusting squelch. Both men's eyes met the bread on the floor, Dipper with a grossed out cringe. "Um." Stan muttered again, face barely flushed from being caught. He reached out a booted foot and shoved the bread under the lip of the lower cabinets before looking up at Dipper and waving his hand. "You din't see nothin'." Stan said darkly. Dipper nodded, choking back his comment on the double negative with a scared squeak. Stan's demeanor shifted suddenly to a more playful tone and he crossed over to Dipper, throwing his arm around the boy's shoulders. "Whatcha need, squirt?" 

"Someone moved the axolotl feed and I can't reach it now." Dipper lamented as Stan returned to the task of overturning the whole kitchen. Dipper finally stepped into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. 

"Sounds like a you problem, kiddo." 

Hoping to use his own tricks against him, Dipper looked for a bargaining chip. "What are you looking for?" Had Stan actually rubbed off on him that quickly? Dipper supposed he saw a lot more of Stan than Ford. The boy shivered, uncomfortable with that train of thought. They should probably make sure Ford was okay if the increase in frequency of the bangs from below was anything to go by.

"You're smart, whaddya think?" Before Dipper could even start reasoning, Stan interrupted again. "I'm lookin' for somethin' to eat that isn't boring or vegetarian." He spit the last word out with such distaste that Dipper let out a crackly little laugh. Bargaining chip acquired. Now he just had to use it. 

"Good luck with that, man." Stan turned to glower at the petite twelve-year-old. For the peeved façade the man put up, Dipper could see the intrigue behind it. "Get me the axolotl feed and I'll let you eat from Mabel and I's food stash?" Stan didn't look convinced. "We have beef jerky." That got the conman's attention. The cupboard door slammed shut and echoed in the kitchen space. 

"Thank Moses for you, kid!" Dipper smiled mischievously. "Why are you-- Hey wait a minute!" Dipper burst out laughing and headed to the living room, leaving a proud and spluttering Stan in his wake.

-----

After recovering from being duped by the little miscreant, Stan followed Dipper into the living room. In a wooden case sat the axolotl tank, the little pink salamander floating around and bonking into the glass walls. 

"Y'know I met a sentient axolotl once." Stan said as he reached up for the canister the kid indicated. 

"Really?" He scream-asked. Stan covered his ear with his remaining hand then held out the canister to Dipper. 

"Jeez kid, you're worse than Poindexter!" The old man mumbled. 

"Speaking of-" Moses, you talk just like him. "-where is Great-Uncle Ford?" 

"Oh he's prob'ly off doin' unholy science in the basement." Stan knew very well what his brother was doing. He was sitting alone in the basement, trying to tear apart the portal, running purely on vodka and bourbon. Ironically, another bang sounded and rattled the frame of the house. 

Stan and Dipper watched the axolotl float about in comfortable silence. Dipper dropped a couple pellets into the water and with a ferocity that should be strictly reserved for sharks, the axolotl snapped out and caught the tiny pellets in its little mouth. The two watched the little salamander swim around for a bit, its fronds flicking as Stan spoke up again. "So... ya got any other weird pets?" 

"We had a compsognathus for a little while. It started stealing Great-Uncle Ford's pens, though." There was an unmistakable sadness in the boy's voice so Stan laid a hand on his shoulder. "We gave him to Farmer Sprott to take care of." Dipper pulled out his journal and showed the sketches of the chicken-sized dinosaur to Stan. 

"Oh man that's cool. I'd love to go visit him if we can." 

"Oh, yeah, we visit him every once in a while. He's really happy with Farmer Sprott." Dipper paused for a minute. "Did you ever see any dinosaurs in the multiverse?" 

"No, I didn't. Woulda been cool though. Any other pets?" 

"Yeah," Dipper took Stan's hand and led him out to a small pond a little ways into the forest. Stan was instantly on high alert. Dipper sat down by the bank but Stan stayed standing, surveying the area. 

"Great-Uncle Ford has a pet plaidypus. He had this pond built a little after he found her. She was abandoned by her mother when she was a baby because her bill was cracked and her tail was damaged." Stan could immediately feel the hurt in his heart at that. Said pain only intensified when the strange red plaid patterned creature emerged from the water and rubbed up against Dipper's hand, beckoning pets. Dipper giggled and patted the weird little thing on the head, making its tail paff against the grass. 

Stan just watched, frozen in curiosity and sadness when a little tug at his pant leg caught his attention. Looking down, he found an even smaller plaidypus chewing on his pant leg with the same chipped bill and malformed tail. The mother came over to retrieve her child and Stan just watched in wonder as mother and baby bonded, laying down in the grass together. 

"What can you tell me about the axolotl you met?" Dipper spoke up softly, breaking Stan away from the pair of plaidypus. Deciding the place was safe enough, Stan sat down next to Dipper who took out a notepad and pen. As Stan began his story, he gesticulated wildly, completely enthralling Dipper.

 "Well it was huge! Like the size of a whale!..." 

----------

Remember: You are loved and cherished and we'd hate to lose you <3.

[antiadvil]

Somebody to Love

summary: Dan and Phil’s first meeting in 2009, loosely inspired by the song Somebody to Love by Queen

rating: PG13

wc: ~3k

notes: for the @phandomreversebang! art provided by @anironsidh and betad by @awkwardest-sam. writing this fic was... a journey, and they were a really great and supportive team the whole time and I really appreciate them <3

read under the cut or on ao3

Dan’s train was running late, and he couldn’t stop his anxiety from running absolutely wild. He hadn’t missed it, had he? Maybe it had showed up early and left before he got there. Maybe it had showed up while he wasn’t paying attention and left already. Maybe it had-

The train pulled into the station. Dan relaxed his shoulders. He wasn’t going to miss his train. He managed to stay calm for a few minutes after he boarded until a sudden new thought hit him.

What if he missed his stop?

He groaned, letting his head drop into his arms. He couldn’t even get a ten minute break from his ridiculous thoughts.

He took a deep breath, trying to focus on something else. To try to distract himself, he pulled out his pen and notebook to work on a few video scripts.

He had finally gotten into a groove, allowing himself to forget his worries, when the train lurched as it approached its first stop, sending Dan’s pen and notebook spilling to the floor. He picked up the notebook, but his pen had already slid out of sight.

Great. Looks like he was going to have to find some other way of passing the remaining two and a half hours of his train ride.

He stared out the window, trying to calm his nerves, but his leg was bouncing up and down almost uncontrollably. He put his hand on his knee, forcing it down.

It was hard to believe that after months of nonstop texting and skyping, he was about to meet the boy from his computer screen in person. He still remembered the first time they had spoken, when he had finally gotten up the courage to message that cool youtuber on twitter.

He had sent him a message about a Queen song, and was shocked to receive a reply. He still was a little bit shocked every time Phil messaged him. Every time, he thought Phil would get tired of him. Every time, Phil kept coming back.

They had talked about their favorite band for hours that night. Then the conversation had shifted to themselves, their families, their hopes and dreams.

They still talked about music sometimes. It was a nice excuse to be in constant contact.

His fingers itched to text Phil, the way they always did when he was anxious, but he and Phil had been trying to stick to Skype lately. Last month’s phone bill had not been fun to pay. He shouldn’t text Phil until he arrived, to tell him where he was so they could meet.

His leg was bouncing again. He sighed in frustration, wishing he hadn’t lost his pen.

He bought a magazine to flip through. It was surprisingly entertaining. He managed to lose himself in it for nearly half an hour before he checked the time again.

Fuck the phone bill. Dan gave in and pulled out his phone. nervous (^_^;), he sent.

good, Phil sent back nearly instantly.

good?

im nervous too and im not allowed to be the only one

Dan laughed. His phone buzzed again

in a few hours we can be nervous 2gether

Dan couldn’t think of anything to send in response to that other than a smiley face.

now go away u spork remember ur phone bill

Dan let a smile break across his face. Phil did that to him frequently. fine, Dan sent quickly.

He returned to his magazine, calmer this time. It was silly to be so worried. It was just Phil. Phil, who he had known for months now. Phil, who he wanted to meet. Phil, who wanted to meet him.

Everything was going to be alright.

When his train arrived in the station, Dan climbed out, letting his eyes search for Phil. Quickly, they landed on a tall, pale boy with dark hair wearing a green plaid shirt. “Phil!” he shouted.

The boy brightened, looking to find the source of the noise. “Dan!”

“Phil,” Dan said again, running towards him, and the other boy was running too, and suddenly they were in each other’s arms, finally, after all these months of imagining.

Phil was holding Dan tighter than he’d ever been held, but it didn’t hurt. It was one of the nicest things Dan had ever felt.

After what felt like an eternity, Phil pulled back. “How was the train ride?”

“Good,” Dan said, his smile so wide he thought his face might split in two. “How was your bus ride?”

“Someone recognized me,” Phil pouted.

Dan laughed. “You’re a proper celebrity now.”

“I don’t want to be a proper celebrity,” Phil whined.

“You’d be a good celebrity.”

“How is someone a good celebrity?”

Dan shrugged. “You’re cute.”

Phil rolled his eyes. “Is that all?”

“Yes.” Dan giggled, though he hadn’t meant to. It was silly, he thought, a nineteen year old giggling over a boy.

Phil was smiling, too, though, and a bit of pink was showing through his pale skin on his cheeks, so he must not mind.

“Where to first?” Dan asked.

“Starbucks,” Phil said, bouncing up and down. “Starbucks, Dan, we have to-”

Dan laughed. “You’re such a sugar fiend.”

“C’mon!” Phil tugged at his hand.

Dan looked down at their hands in shock, surprised to find them tangled together.

“Sorry,” Phil said sheepishly, dropping Dan’s hand.

Dan wiped his hand on his jeans, then immediately cursed himself. He didn’t want Phil to think it was because of him, his hand was just sweaty. “No, you’re good- um.”

“Yeah. No. We’re in public, I should have-” Phil stuffed his hands into his pockets. “So, uh, Starbucks?”

“Starbucks,” Dan agreed, gesturing for Phil to lead the way.

“Right,” Phil said, heading down the street. Dan followed. “What are you planning to get?”

Dan shrugged. “Whatever you get. You’re the expert.”

“Well, I haven’t actually decided what I’m getting yet,” Phil explained.

“Oh really? What are the frontrunners?” Dan asked.

Phil spent the rest of their walk explaining his various drink options, each sugarier than the last. “So I think maybe the caramel macchiato. Maybe? I can’t decide.”

Dan interrupted before Phil could go through his list again from the beginning. “You should get the caramel macchiato.”

“You think so?”

“I think so,” Dan confirmed, opening the door to the starbucks.

Phil bought their coffees, over Dan’s protests. “You’re the one who came to visit me,” he said. “Let me do this for you.”

Dan gave in. “I’ll buy you coffee if you ever come to Reading.”

“Deal.” Phil took a long sip of his coffee and let out a long, relieved breath afterwards. “So good.”

“The caffeine or the sugar?”

“Yes,” Phil said.

Dan took a sip of his own drink. It was good. Maybe not as good as Phil thought it was, but good.

“I’m trying to cut back on coffee,” Phil said mournfully. “I only had three cups this morning.”

Dan snorted. “Only three?”

“Yes.” Phil stared glumly at his already half empty cup of coffee.

Dan shook his head in mock sympathy. “You poor thing.”

Phil finished his coffee with disturbing speed. Dan did his best to keep up, but to avoid burning his tongue, he had to finish about ten minutes after Phil.

Phil’s tongue must be nearly burned off from how quickly he had

Dan should stop thinking about Phil’s tongue.

“Where do you want to go now?” Phil asked, saving Dan’s mind from going to some places it really shouldn’t be going right now.

“Can we just walk around for a bit?” Dan asked.

“Sure!” Phil was bouncing on his toes, already ready to move.

Dan wondered if he was as thrumming with nervous energy as Dan was. “Lead the way, then.”

Phil knew his way through Manchester better than he let on, pointing out a few shops and landmarks he recognized along their walk. “There’s so much to do here. We’ll have to come back sometime.”

Dan absentmindedly agreed. It was nice, the thought that this would happen again. That he could come back. That Phil didn’t seem to hate him yet.

Dan almost missed the apple store when they walked past, but he saw it out of the corner of his eye and stopped. “Wait,” he said, “I want to post a selfie.”

“Ooh,” Phil said. “Good idea.” He opened the door and gestured for Dan to follow him.

They got lucky when they were immediately able to snag a free laptop. Phil opened photobooth and messed with his hair in the camera. Dan did his best to straighten out his hair, and struck a pose.

Phil put on a (ridiculous) facial expression and took a photo.

Dan stepped up to take a look. “Wait,” he said, stepping back. “My hair looks wrong. Can we retake it?”

Phil rolled his eyes, but stepped back into his pose to take a new picture.

About 20 pictures later, they had finally taken one Dan was satisfied with. He logged into his dailybooth account quickly, doing his best to ignore the line of people growing behind him.

“There,” he said, pressing post and logging out of his account.

He did his best not to make eye contact with anyone in the line behind them as they left the apple store.

They found a bench in a nearby park and spent the next few hours people watching, making up stories about the people they saw.

“She’s in an unhappy marriage,” Dan whispered. “She’s having an affair with him.” He pointed to the man across the playground from her, where her daughter was playing.

Phil took a bite of the sandwich he had bought from a nearby cafe. “Does her daughter know?”

“Of course not, Phil. She’s like, five.”

“Just hoping for maximum drama,” Phil said around another mouthful of sandwich.

Dan grimaced. “Stop chewing with your mouth open. It’s gross.”

Phil swallowed. “Your mum’s gross.”

Dan hit Phil on the back. “Take that back.”

“You first.”

“No.”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree.” Phil looked almost sad.

Dan snorted. “Let’s disagree to disagree.”

“How does that work?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t put much thought into it yet.”

Phil laughed, taking the last bite out of his sandwich and brushing a few crumbs out of his lap.

Dan checked the time. “Is there anything else you want to do before we go back to your place?”

“Well,” Phil said. “I, uh. Have a reservation for after dinner.”

“A reservation?” Dan looked down at his clothes. He hoped it wasn’t too nice.

“The sky bar,” Phil said. “I don’t know if you know it, I’m sorry, I-”

Phil looked so anxious. “No,” Dan said, doing his best to sound reassuring. “It’s fine, just… unexpected.”

Phil smiled in relief. “We should get going if we’re going to make it on time.”

When they got to the sky bar, Dan looked at the menu and tried not to panic at the prices.

“I’ll pay,” Phil said quietly. “Don’t worry about it.”

That only made things slightly better.

Phil must have noticed that the worry didn’t fall from his face, because he tried to reassure Dan again. “Really, it’s fine. Get whatever you want.”

Dan nodded, but he scanned the menu for the cheapest items and ordered those anyway. Phil had just graduated uni; he wasn’t exactly rolling in money, and Dan didn’t want to feel like any more of a burden on him than he already did.

It didn’t matter. His drink tasted incredible.

“Is it alright?” Phil asked, still anxious.

“It’s perfect,” Dan said. It was. The sun was beginning to set, and the view from this high up was beautiful. The view next to him was even prettier.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, staring out the windows and watching the sun bathe everything in a warm, golden glow.

Dan reached for Phil’s hand under the table. Phil reached back.

***

It was dark when they boarded the bus back to Rossendale. The bus was nearly empty, but they chose two seats in the back, as far away from everyone else as possible.

“Busses are weird.” Dan yawned.

Phil giggled. “It’s not even late. Are you tired?”

Dan glared. “Shut up.”

Phil stuck out his tongue. “Make me.”

Dan hoped his face wasn’t as red as it felt. “Shut up,” he managed to squeak out.

Phil sat back in his seat, smiling in satisfaction.

“Shut up,” Dan whined, poking him.

“You sound like a broken record. Do you say anything other than shut up?”

“Shut-” Dan stopped. “Yes,” he insisted.

Phil smirked. “Prove it.”

“I’ve said so many things other than shut up today.”

Phil shrugged. “If you say so.”

“I do.” Dan leaned back into his seat, trying to project confidence.

Phil shrugged again. “I believe you,” he said, with the air of someone who absolutely did not believe the person they were talking to.

Dan sighed, and changed the subject. “How long is the ride?”

“About half an hour, hopefully,” Phil said.

His train ride had been much longer than that. He could survive this. Especially with Phil with him.

“I met a boy on the train once, you know,” Phil said, startling Dan out of his thoughts.

Dan looked up, slightly confused. Why was Phil telling him about some other boy? “You did?”

“Yeah,” Phil laughed. “He was really cute, too. We spent the whole train ride talking, and it turned out he actually lived really close by. This was when I was in uni. But anyway, at the end, he asked me for my number, so I gave it to him, and then-” Phil paused to hide his face.

“Then what?” Dan asked, perplexed.

“I texted him,” Phil said, muffled.

“What’d you say?”

“I asked him if he was asking me out,” Phil said, still with his face hidden in his arms.

“Was he?” Dan asked, though he suspected the answer by now.

“No,” Phil whined, lifting his head up. “He wasn’t. He was straight.”

Dan couldn’t help a horrified giggle.

“It’s not funny,” Phil said, though a smile was starting to peek through his carefully composed sulk.

Dan wanted to stop laughing, he really did, but he just couldn’t. His giggle grew until it was the dumb hyena laugh he always felt self-conscious of, but with Phil sitting next to him, he didn’t mind.

Phil was starting to laugh a little bit too. He buried his head in Dan’s shoulder to hide it. “You’re the worst.” He landed a half-hearted punch on Dan’s ribs.

Dan just laughed harder. “That’s awful, oh my god.”

“So stop laughing!” Phil whined.

Dan finally managed to quiet his laugh. “It’s a good thing, though, really. Because now you have me instead of stupid bus boy.”

“You’re so much better than stupid bus boy,” Phil whispered, reaching for Dan’s hand to give it a quick, reassuring squeeze.

The warmth of his hands lingered even after they were gone.

***

Phil’s house was dark and quiet when they finally arrived. Dan didn’t know what else he had expected. Phil’s parents weren’t home; that was the whole reason he was visiting right now.

Dan declined politely when Phil asked if he wanted a full house tour, instead choosing to dump his backpack on Phil’s bedroom floor without asking first. He thought, halfway through doing it, that maybe he should have checked first, but Phil didn’t seem to mind, so he just left it.

Phil’s bedroom looked different than it did on Skype. Less grainy.

Phil dropped himself onto his bed, gesturing for Dan to follow him. “Wanna play some music?”

“Sure,” Dan said, sitting down next to Phil. “Queen, probably, it’s the least we can do to thank them for bringing us together.”

Phil laughed. “Not because they’re good?”

“No. Just because gay.”

“Freddie Mercury would be proud,” Phil said.

“He probably would be,” Dan admitted.

“What song?”

Dan thought about it a bit, chewing at the inside of his lip. “Somebody To Love,” he finally said.

Phil grinned. “Excellent choice.”

“Thank you,” Dan said, basking in the glow of Phil’s approval as the piano started playing. “I can play this on piano, you know.”

“You can?”

“Yeah. I can play most Queen songs.”

Phil tilted his head. “You’ll have to show me sometime.”

“But you don’t have a keyboard.”

Phil tilted his head. “Guess I’ll have to visit you sometime.”

Dan couldn’t help the nervous thrill that ran through his stomach. “A shame, really. You have no other option.”

“I’ll survive.”

Dan hummed along to the chorus.

Phil poked him. “Just humming? Coward.”

Dan startled. “What?”

“I want to hear you sing.” Phil’s eyes were twinkling with the slightest bit of mischief.

“No. Absolutely not.” Dan crossed his arms.

“Fine,” Phil said. “I guess I’m going to have to sing myself.”

“That’s almost worse,” Dan said.

Phil pouted. “I’m a great singer.”

“I’m sure.”

Phil began to sing along, his voice warbling.

“Shush,” Dan said. “I want to hear Freddie Mercury.”

Phil sighed, but switched to dramatically lip syncing instead.

“Much better,” Dan said, trying to control his facial expression so Phil couldn’t tell that he was being a little bit cute right now.

Phil’s performance was so over the top it was honestly funny, until he reached the end of the song. He sang along, softly this time, looking directly at Dan in a way that gave him goosebumps.

Dan couldn’t help but look away.

“How was my performance?” Phil asked.

“It was alright,” Dan said, leaning back on his elbows.

“Oh yeah?”

Dan sat back up. “Not too relatable, though.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve already found somebody to love,” Dan said, smiling at Phil.

“Really,” Phil said, teasing. “Who?”

Dan felt his cheeks warm. “You probably don’t know him. He goes to a different school,” he managed.

Phil laughed. “I like you too.”

Dan didn’t think it was even possible for his cheeks to be any warmer. “I guess you’re kind of cool too.”

“Shut up,” Phil said, pulling Dan closer.

“Make me,” Dan said.

“Okay,” Phil said, promptly kissing him.

Dan shut up for quite a while after that.

[cloudywriter]

Okay, hear me out... A Nessian carnival situation?

first, i need more prompts, send whatever & alright this one took me a sec but then i got into and i’m pretty happy with it. sorry, it’s such a long built up but it’ll come. pretty swift nessian fix here ya go:

~~~

A Tale of Questionable Carnival Rides

~~~

Nesta huffed, checked the time on her phone again, and rolled her eyes. It was only 9:32pm now and the endless stream of kids and parents was still steadily flowing and likely would be for another hour or so. 

Nesta checked again. 9:33pm. 

It wasn’t that she hated the annual carnival fundraiser for the school, she liked planning it and making sure everything ran smoothly, being student council president that’s usually what her job description was. But not this year, no, this year Nesta was in charge of running one of the mini-game stands as Clare, who was supposed to be managing it, came down with the flu.

To say the least, Nesta did not enjoy dealing with groups of screaming children and their hovering parents. Honestly, she’d rather slam her hand into a car door than spend another hour watching kids fail to knock down three pins then become upset because they don’t get a prize for losing. 

She was able to handle the first couple of kids that shed some tears and the few parents that wanted a pity prize, but as the night wore on her patience began to run thin.

A young blonde boy, maybe eight or nine years old, was now making his way up to Nesta’s booth followed by presumably his mother. 

Nesta gave her the same, plastered-on smile she’d been giving all night to the woman approaching. 

“Hi, three balls please,” the mother said sweetly, handing a five-dollar bill to Nesta over the table.

Nesta gave her a small nod and plucked three red balls from the bucket beside her, handing one to the little boy.

“Alright, all you have to do is knock down all three pins and you’ll get a prize,” she stated her usual rehearsed line. 

Of course, the little boy missed his first shot, his aim a little too low, Nesta passed him a second ball in response. Once again, his ball missed its mark and the boy let out a little sound of frustration.

“It’s okay, you’ve got one more shot,” Nesta explained before setting the final ball before him. 

The boy swiped up the plastic, red orb and weighed it in his hand. He turned his attention back to the three pins still sitting untouched atop the table adorned with a red and orange plaid, fall-appropriate cloth; he chucked the ball, grazing the top pin enough to knock it off. 

“I did it! I did it!” The boy cried punching the air in triumph. 

“Hey, I’m sorry, but you actually have to knock down all three to win,” Nesta frowned, feeling a little sympathetic for the kid. 

“That’s crap!” He shouted. Nesta shifted her weight awkwardly from one foot to the other, “I’m sorry, that’s just the rules.” 

The mother’s mouth was set in a thin line as she rested her hand on his arm. “C’mon honey, maybe you’ll have better luck at ring toss?” She offered. However, he looked up at her unimpressed, “No! This booth is the only one with the dragon stuffed animal! I got the top pin!”

The mother’s eyes flitted back up to Nesta. “Can you just give him the dragon? I mean he did hit one and I already gave you money, I’m sure that dragon is cheaper than five dollars.”

“I’m sorry, but I really don’t think I can do that,” Nesta reiterated. 

The mother huffed, obviously getting upset now and started digging around in her purse. She slapped down another five-dollar bill in front of Nesta, “There? Is that enough? Just give him the damn toy.”

Nesta was a little torn on how to handle the situation, the last bit of patience she possessed slowly disintegrating. “Look, I can give you another three balls for you to try again but I can’t just give out the prizes for some money.” 

The mother rolled her eyes, slamming her hand down by her side; “He’s just a kid, he’s not going to hit all of the pins and don’t try to tell me that dragon is worth more than a few bucks. This is just a high school fundraiser, save me the trouble and give my kid the damn prize.”

The son looked up at his mother with a pout.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry to hear that your son has no hand-eye coordination but frankly it’s not my problem. If you want to try and pay your way through another game I’d suggest the bean bag toss, my sister Elain is a softy.” Nesta gave her a sickly sweet smile and crossed her arms over her chest.

At that, the woman’s face turned a tint of red. “Okay, who is running this? I’d like to speak to one of your teachers or the principal, you’re being extremely rude.”

“I’m being rude? Lady, I’m just trying to get in my community service hours.”

The woman’s nostrils flared and Nesta could tell she was about to crack, she started to speak her voice significantly raised. “Alright, missy-”

“Whoa, hey, what is going on here?” Another voice chimed in.

Nesta groaned, her head turning to face the student council vice president who had now joined the interaction. 

“Are you running this thing? This girl has been astonishingly ill-mannered,” the woman began. Cassian held up his hand, “I am not the one in charge, unfortunately, you’re actually looking at the boss right now.” 

The woman gave Nesta another scowl, snatched up the five-dollar bill that still rested on the table, and grabbed her son’s hand dragging him off into the crowd. Cassian didn’t turn to leave though, “I’m actually surprised you didn’t get into a fight with a crazy mom earlier. I almost left your general vicinity thinking I wouldn’t have to break up anything, good thing I didn’t.”

Nesta rolled her eyes and uncrossed her arms, letting them rest at her side again. “My hero,” she added sarcastically. 

Cassian smiled. “C’mon, sweetheart, why don’t we go for a little cooldown ferris wheel ride.” 

“Really?” Nesta asked, gesturing with her head towards the sad scrap of chipped brightly painted metal that was the ‘ferris wheel’ the school decided to splurge on and rent out. “You’d get in a cart and the whole thing would topple over.”

Cassian only shook his head. “Nah, c’mon, Archeron. What, are you scared of heights?”

“Yes, I’m deathly afraid of being lifted twenty feet into the air, Cassian.”

Cassian didn’t respond, just held out his arm. Nesta sighed, deciding she’d rather risk her life on a very janky carnival ride than work that damn game. She slipped out from behind the tables and looped her arm through Cassian’s, “I hope you know you’re paying whatever ridiculous rate they have going.”

“I suspected as much,” he answered, pulling her across the high school parking lot which had been transformed into the makeshift carnival. 

They stood together in the small line and Nesta closed her eyes, tipping her head back breathing in the scent of corn dogs and funnel cakes deeply. The student letting kids on and off the ride collected Cassian’s money and they stepped into their cart. It did audibly creak as Cassian and all his muscles took up residence, Nesta settled in across from him. 

“How have you enjoyed working a booth? Think next year you’ll decide to do it again rather than running around making sure everything’s working out?” Cassian asked, stretching his arms behind him.

“I think if I get stuck handing kids balls to throw at pins or something like that again I will abdicate my throne.”

Cassian raised his brow. “It can’t be that bad.”

Nesta shrugged. “Why do you care? You’re probably thinking up a scheme to make sure I end up on game duty again so you can have my presidential status.”

“Nah, I’m not after your position I swear. I don’t even like being vice president.” 

Now it was Nesta’s turn to raise a brow. “Then why do you keep doing it?”

Cassian hesitated a moment. “It’s the only way I get to spend time with you,” he confessed. 

“You’re telling me for two years you’ve run for vice president so you could hang out with me?” Nesta asked, disbelief coating her tone.

Cassian nodded. 

“You took on the extra burden of full hour meetings twice a week before school, put in countless hours of budgeting, fundraising, making posters, all that jazz just to spend time with me?” 

Cassian nodded again looking as if he were trying much too hard to stay cool and calm. “Romantic, isn’t it?” He smirked like he was ready for Nesta to melt into his arms.

“No, that’s so fucking stupid,” Nesta crossed her arms.

Only then did Cassian’s built up nonchalant aura falter. “W-what?”

“Yeah dumbass, you literally could have just asked me out.”

“I didn’t think you’d ever say yes,” now Cassian was leaning forward, his face exuding a plethora of emotions. 

Nesta leaned forward, her face only a few inches from Cassian’s own. 

“I would’ve said yes,” she almost whispered. Cassian’s eyes searched Nesta’s face for any sign that she was playing a cruel joke, he found none. “Nesta?” he asked softly. 

“Mhm?”

“Would you really go out with me?” His eyes were wide and hopeful, the innocence of it all made Nesta smile. Especially knowing how much of a goofball Cassian was, it was different seeing him so genuine and unguarded. 

“I really would,” she answered at last. She and Cassian just stared at each other for a moment, the corners of their lips upturned. 

“Nes?” Cassian’s voice broke. Nesta raised her eyebrows slightly, encouraging him to continue. “Is it okay if I give you my letter of resignation on the date, too?” 

Nesta let out a small giggle and rested her forehead against his. “You’re such a doof.”

~~~

alright, well i hope you liked it! also thank you guys so much for all the love on my last nessian prompt fic, usually, i only get like 15-20 notes a post so all the attention that one got made me really happy. also, i promise i'm still working on my other stories!

[conradscrime]

Lyle Stevik John Doe (Identified in 2018)

January 08, 2021

Ugh. I love a good John/Jane Doe case. 

However, I do want to just remind everyone that as interesting as these cases are, they are very sad. We need to remember that yes a person who is unidentified is very interesting because there are a lack of answers. The main one being who are they but also what happened to them? 

I think when it comes to John/Jane Doe cases we need to mindful and remain extremely respectful and not so judgemental. These people at one point were someone’s children, sibling, perhaps someone’s parent, someone’s spouse. They were most likely someone’s everything at one point. And now there could be a family or friend or loved one who has no idea what happened to them, has no idea why they haven’t heard from them or seen them. 

John/Jane Doe cases are probably some of my favourite to research because they are just that, interesting. But I especially think in these cases we need to be respectful because these people are no longer here to tell their story or defend themselves. And everyone no matter, deserves to have their name back. 

I’ve known about the Lyle Stevik John Doe case long before he was ever identified. I want to say around 2016 is when I first heard of the case and when he was identified in May of 2018 I was so happy, though his story is sad. Since being identified his family has chosen to keep his identity from the public which I do not blame them one bit especially because I believe the family assumed he was out living a life without them and had no idea he had been deceased for so long. My heart goes out to the family of Lyle Stevik John Doe. 

TRIGGER WARNING: This case involves the topic of suicide and someone taking their own life. If this is triggering for some I suggest not reading this case and to stay tuned for upcoming cases I cover! I have a lot planned and there will be new posts from me every Friday (and on days where I am not so busy with work and school I will have 2 cases uploaded!) 

On Friday, September 14, 2001 a man checked into a motel in Amanda Park Washington called the Quinault Inn under the name Lyle Stevik after arriving there via bus. The clerk told police that he may have been Canadian, as he spoke with what seemed to the clerk as an accent similar to a Canadian one. 

When registering for his room he entered the alias Lyle Stevik, and for an address he wrote down the address of a Best Western facility in Meridian Idaho. The police ended up locating the hotel and questioning the staff, but none of them recognized photos of him. 

The man was reportedly seen walking back and forth at the side of the highway near the motel, but it is uncertain whether these sightings were seen before or after he registered for his room at the motel. The man actually requested a different room after complaining about the noise outside the room was he given. 

The man was found deceased in his motel room on Monday September 17, 2001. An initial report said he had stayed at the motel for two nights, but he had checked in on September 14, which meant he had stayed there for three nights. He originally only paid for one night, but then planned to stay for a few more days. He had hung himself by his belt from a bar inside the closet. 

He had left a note that said “for the room” on the bedside table and left $160 in $20 bills to cover the remaining two nights of the weekend, which I think just shows what kind of person he was in life, a good person. The bills used to pay for the room looked fresh, it appeared that they had been recently taken out of an ATM machine. He had no wallet on him or credit card, so it seemed kind of strange that the bills looked so fresh, because how did he use a ATM machine if he didn’t have a card or wallet on him? There was also a note left that just said the words “suicide.” He is thought to have died on September 16. It is suspected that he may have died by suicide due to depression or because of a fatal disease, though the autopsy showed no signs of that. 

The man was described to have light-skin, and by his features some report that he could of been from Native American or Hispanic ancestry. He also had black hair which was trimmed and neatly combed and green/hazel eyes. He weighed between 130-140 pounds, and was about 6 feet tall. 

An investigator also claimed that there had been a piece of paper located in the trash bin that had “suicide” written on it as if the man were practicing how to spell it. Some believe he could not speak English well. I find this strange though because the clerk that gave him his room never mentioned that he could not speak english well from the research i’ve done, the clerk only said he had some sort of accent and like previously mentioned it was thought to be a Canadian accent, and I feel as though that would of been a very important detail that wouldn’t of been left out. 

Police also said he had closed the blinds of the room and lined the closet with pillows. The man had no luggage with him, he only brought a toothbrush and toothpaste which were found in the room. He was wearing a gray tshirt and  blue levi jeans and black timberland boots. There was also a blue long sleeve plaid button up shirt found laying on a chair in the room. 

So you may be wondering where the name Lyle Stevik comes from. Some believe that he came up with this name from a character in a book written by Joyce Carol Oates. The novel was called “You Must Remember” and it was released in 1987. In the story, the main character’s father, Lyle Stevik, contemplates suicide, and attempts suicide, however doesn’t suceed. The John Doe spelled the name Stevik, but in the book the character’s name is spelled Stevick, with a C.

The local coroner’s office also said the man could of been from African-American ancestry in addition to having Hispanic and native american ancestry. 

DNA analysis concluded he was at least one-quarter native american and one quarter hispanic or spanish. His teeth showed evidence of earlier treatment with braces. He had an old appendectomy scar which is when you get your appendix removed, and also a small mole on the left side of his chin. He also had attached earlobes which is a genetic characteristic. His nails were clean and trimmed as well. 

The man also was not wearing a ring on his left finger, and there was no tan line there or any indication that he had ever worn a ring on that finger. They also did isotope testing on the man and found that he had travelled to various states before his death. Isotope testing in criminal investigations is basically used to find out things such as locating the country of origin for a given explosive, or to identify drug trafficking routes. 

The examination also showed that he had recently lost a large amount of weight up to 40 pounds. The medical examiner estimated this weight difference after noticing that the size of his jeans were fairly large in comparison to his body. His belt also had extra holes that had been punched into it. His age was estimated to be between 20 and 30 years old, giving his estimated year of birth to be between 1971 and 1981. 

Some also found it strange that this man had committed suicide only a few days after 9/11 happened. Investigator’s tried to connect the two, some people thinking maybe he had lost someone in 9/11 and could not go on without them so he decided to end his own life. 

The man known as Lyle Stevik was a John Doe. They had no idea where he came from or where his family could be. He was buried in an unmarked grave at the Fern Hill Cemetery in Aberdeen, Washington, and went unidentified for almost 17 years. 

Because this man had only been deceased for a short period of time before being found, examiners were able to obtain fingerprints, dental characteristics and DNA. These identifying markers were placed in international databases, including CODIS, but no matches were made. It was believed that he came from Port Angeles or Aberdeen, locations from which buses daily traveled to Amanda Park. 

The man was not recognized by any of the bus drivers from those areas. There were also two men who had gone missing named Alexander Craig and Steven Needham, but both had been ruled out as possible identities of the Lyle Stevik John Doe. 

In April of 2007, Lyle Stevik was listed as the profile of the month for Missing From the circle, which was a public service initiative launched by Lamar Associates, a law enforcement advisory organization based in Washington, D.C. to help solve cases of missing and unidentified Native Americans. 

The case went cold. But in 2018, two genetic genealogists from the DNA Doe Project named Colleen M. Fitzpatrick and Margaret Press uploaded DNA profiles to GEDmatch to attempt to link the unidentified man to individuals living in New Mexico and Idaho. The DNA Doe Project is a non-profit organization dedicated to identifying unknown deceased persons. 

And then on May 8, 2018 it was announced by the Grays Harbor Sheriff’s office that Lyle Stevik had been identified through DNA analysis and comparison with genetic relatives, performed by the DNA doe project in collaboration with Aerodyne and Full Genomes Corporation. They found a cluster of matches of relatives, perhaps even two or three generations removed, in New Mexico. Through this they were able to find members of the John Doe’s birth family. 

The man was from Alameda County, California and was 25 years old at the time of this death. The Grays harbour county sheriff’s office notified the man’s family, who had believed him to be alive and had just thought he did not want to associate with them. His family had a set of his fingerprints that were taken in grade school, as part of a children’s identification program. 

The sheriff’s department compared those to the fingerprints of the deceased man taken in 2001 and made a positive identification. However, we do not know the man’s actual name because his family has asked to keep it private, they do not want him to be publicly identified. 

This case is oddly similar to a case that happened in 1996. A woman who went by the name Mary A. Anderson committed suicide in a hotel room in Seattle, Washington in October of 1996. However, this is known to be a fake name the woman used and they have never been able to identify her. 

She reserved a room via telephone on October 9 about 90 minutes before she checked in. She arrived with two bags and paid cash for two nights. She also entered a New York address and telephone number, which investigator later determined to be false. 

On Friday, October 11 her body was discovered by a hotel staff member after she failed to check out. She was found reclining in the bed, clasping a Bible to her chest with the pages opened to Psalm 23. There was a suicide note on the bedside table. She left no identification. 

The Medical examiner determined she had consumed a lethal mixture of metamucil and cyanide and ruled her death a suicide. The woman was white, said to be between ages 30-50, with well groomed manicured nails and neatly combed hair. She had an IUD inserted, and appeared to have had breast surgery at some point in her life. 

Police tried to identify her through fingerprint records on file with the FBI, as well as through missing persons reports filed in the US, Canada and through Interpol which is the International criminal police organization. They were unable to trace the origins of cyanide used and the medical examiner’s office said that the woman had purposely left out any way that she could be identified. I included a photo of her facial reconstruction down below along with Lyle Stevik’s.

Though I don’t really believe there’s any connection to these two cases they are eerily similar and as I mentioned earlier I think John/Jane Doe cases are especially important to cover, and especially important to be respectful of any friends or family if they ever come across this post. 

It makes me extremely happy that Lyle Stevik John Doe was identified in May of 2018. His family has asked to keep his identity from the public, however after doing further research I did find some websleuths who have supposedly found a picture of Lyle Stevik in a yearbook and have released his real name. Personally, the photo to me looks extremely real and does look like him, almost exactly. 

However, because his family wants to grieve in peace I will not be posting that photo or his supposed real name. I do not think that is fair to the family and I think we need to let this case rest. Lyle Stevik got his name back, his family has the closure they needed after all these years and that’s all that matters.

Thank you for taking time out of your day to read this post! I have included a photo of Lyle Stevik John Doe’s sketch but I will not be including photos of his  body or the supposed yearbook photo of him as I just find that extremely disrespectful to not only him, but also his family. 

Hope you enjoyed this case!

[oceansempress]

top 3 bad dates

MCU PROMPT #9: “You promised me answers,”

Pairing: Bartender!Sebastian Stan x Female!Reader

Summary: After a terrible blind date, a charming bartender comes to the rescue.

Warnings: Men being exhausting as heck, flirting with someone else.

Word Count: 4220

Author’s Note: I pictured bartender!sebby with the 40sbucky hair so do that (?) I had a really fun time writing this

“So, I know I might sound like an entitled douchebag,” the blonde hair, blue eyed guy began. Oh, you think, you thought as you took a sip from what could be your tenth glass of rosé for the night. “But my dad really went off to Italy with some twenty year old and left me his goddamn company to run.”

The guy, Ken, who was your blind date, feigned a groan before chuckling to himself. His eyes slowed into a close as his left hand - a Piaget watch on his wrist - collided onto his chest, knuckles thumping into his perfect, creaseless white button up. His laugh rang in your ears, causing a bitterness in your mouth. God, please just end me, you thought. You took another sip, the softness of the rosé coated your tongue gently. The sweetness of the alcohol glided down your throat magnificently and it almost made you forget that Ken was here. Up until he opened his mouth again.

“I mean I’m not complaining,” he sighed happily, swinging his wrist obnoxiously. Your lips tightened into a smile as you slightly tilted your empty glass at him. I should get another drink before he yammers again, you thought. You breathed in deeply, eyeing everyone in the restaurant. An old couple sat in a booth just across from you caught your attention. One of the old women - a sweet lady with round, pink glasses - had her head pressed against the cheek of her partner’s. Her partner - grey hair tied up in a tight bun - had scooped a piece of cake and was about to eat it, when ‘pink glasses’ swooped in and took a bite of it. Their laughter warmed your heart, relieving you from the tightness on your chest. You audibly sighed and wished you had what they have.

But instead, you were stuck with Ken whose personality and looks matched teeth to teeth with his name. You were going to kill your best friend for setting you up with the biggest asshole on Earth. Every time you tried to talk about yourself, he would somehow manage to direct it back to him. He even answered the questions he asked you as if, somehow, he was the director of your life. It has been two full hours of him talking about himself and all you wanted to do was rip your hair apart. You knew he was too good to be true when your best friend listed all the good qualities he had - mostly that he was good looking and was the CEO of Piaget - and mentioned that he wanted to bring you out for dinner. And of course, you said yes because your two previous blind dates went horribly and you believed that third time’s a charm. Third time’s a charm my ass, you thought as an uncomfortably warm feeling knitted at your chest.

“I got a pretty good gig with an office located on the top floor of the highest building,” he was still talking as you leaned forward, feigning interest. Just as you were about to nod, a person wearing a pair of black trousers flashed past you. In a quick motion, you grabbed the person by the arm and tugged them towards you. Ken was lounging on the wooden chair like it was his office, only to be cut abruptly by your sudden movement. “Damn, you’re missing out on the view. An-”

“Um, sir, waiter, sir,” you began, tripping on your words. Your tongue felt heavy and your eyelids were beginning to droop. Maybe you shouldn’t, you thought. Too late. The words had already fallen off your lips before you could close them. “Could I get one more glass of rosé?”

The waiter eyed Ken as Ken had a smug smile plastered on his face and he shook his head. His eyes fell on you and you swore you could see his forehead softened with pity before nodding.

“Alright, Miss, I’ll be right back,” he said, gesturing his head to where your hand was tightly clasped on his arm. A harsh warmth struck abruptly to your cheeks and you quickly removed your hand from the waiter’s arm, watching as he left and you awaited for hope to come back to you.

“Alright, where was I? Oh yeah,” your mind could no longer grasp whatever he was about to say so you sat back against the cool wood and allowed yourself to be distracted by everything else that was going on. You searched for the old couple who were sitting across from you but all that was left, was an empty booth which was now sparkling clean. You were about to sulk when a crow of laughter rang noisily in your ears. Your eyes followed to where it came from and landed on a group of - drunk - women gathering at the bar opposite of where you were sitting.

They were laughing in unison and clinking their glasses together but what made you curious was the way they were positioned; everyone was facing to their right. Their empty hands were practically fanning their faces and some were chewing on their lips. Curiosity got the best of you and you looked to the right to see a man in black - dark hair gelled neatly to the right - shaking a metal cocktail shaker up in the air. You couldn’t see clearly but from where you were sitting, you could see his beautifully sculpted broad shoulders. The way his shirt was practically about to rip apart had your knees wobbly. As he continued to shake the shaker, his biceps flexed and a vein popped out, causing your stomach to knot. The group of women screamed at this and giggled ever so loudly. He grinned at them, loving the attention.

“You should do a shot with us,” one of the women yelled and you watched as the bartender smiled sheepishly and waved his hand at them, trying to say no. They were persistent though; pounding on the wooden counter and chanting for him to take a shot with them. The bartender poured the shaken drink into a cocktail glass and served a guest while the ladies incessantly banged the counter. He sighed at them, still grinning before reluctantly putting his hands up in surrender. The veins on his hands popped up and a warm feeling trickled down the back of your neck. He grabbed a shot glass and brought up to the group of women, clinking his glass with theirs. “Fuck yes!” They screamed in delight.

“Um, miss?” You were abruptly pulled into reality. You turned to look at the person who had called you, only to realise that it was the waiter with your drink in his gloved hand. You nodded and he placed the drink onto the table. “Thank you,” you muttered with a small smile and brought the glass to your lips.

You wandered back to where the bartender was and watched as he downed his shot. His head was tilted back and a thick vein bulged out on his neck causing you to squeeze tightly around your glass. Feeling a little thirsty, you took a sip just as he bit into a lemon wedge. He pulled away from them and grabbed the plaid towel that was peacefully resting on his shoulder to wipe off the mess on his hands. He was about to serve another customer when the group of women started yelling no at him.

“Another one,” they yelled. His hands were now on his hips and his cheeks were sucked in, jaws clenching at this. He shook his head, but stopped when his eyes met yours. You bit your lip and tilted your glass at him before taking another sip. He raised his eyebrows at you as his lips tilted into a smirk. Now that he was facing you, you could see that he wasn’t entirely clean shaven. C’mon, take another shot, you mouthed, hoping that he could read lips. His eyes darkened at this as he bit the insides of his cheek, now a little smug. This is on you, he mouthed back. You grinned, swirling the glass in your hand.

The bartender licked the back of his hand, eyes still focused on you. The knot in your stomach continued to tighten at this. He salted the wet skin, gaining cheers from his fans before licking it again. The heat was now slowly moving to your ears. He poured himself another shot and clinked his glass with theirs before turning to look at you. Lips curled into a smirk, he topped his glass at your direction and winked at you, making the final blow as he downed his drink. All of them screamed again, before the server came to collect them for their table. Sadness practically rained down on their faces as they followed the server but not before saying goodbye to him. Good riddance, you thought and smiled to yourself.

You chewed on your bottom lip as you shifted your focus back to the handsome bartender. His arms were on the counter as he brought the shot glasses back to the bartending area. His eyes met yours again and he tilted his head to the side, gesturing for you to come to him. You lightly shook your head as your fingers subtly pointed to your date. He playfully rolled his eyes at this and slapped his chest in feign hurt. Ditch him, he mouthed.

You stifled a giggle and was about to respond but waving hands flooded your vision. “Hey, are you even listening?” You blinked away from the bartender to find a red faced Ken staring at you. His eyebrows were knitted together with an obvious frown slapped on his face. Your eyes slowly widened, realising that you had been caught. Not knowing what to do, you nodded your head and took a big gulp of the little liquid left.

“Jeez,” he huffed noisily while gripping the armrest. His frown deepened as he started shaking his head. “How many have you had?”

“About a dozen,” you admitted and he rolled his eyes, huffing once again. “But ‘m not sure.” He clicked his tongue at this and raised his right hand, before snapping his fingers.

“Well, that’s the end of this then,” he said sharply just as the waiter came rushing over with the check. Ken reached for his pocket and took out a thick, brown wallet. Not bothering to take a look at the cost, he dropped off a $500 bill onto the black leather checkbook. The waiter lightly snapped it shut and thanked him before making his way to the cashier. Ken only glared at you as he waited for his change. Swinging his wrist, he looked at his watch and groaned before standing up.

“You’re not waiting for your change?” You quipped as he threw the napkin onto the chair. He took his coat off the back of the chair to put it on. He only shook his head as he straightened out the coat on him and cuffed his wrist. “That’s just rude,” you retorted and narrowed your eyes at him.

Ken turned to look at you, as his arms were now at his hips. His jaws squeezed while his temples tightened. “You just lost your Uber rights, have fun going home alone,” he said bitterly and turned to walk away, his coat flaring up in a dramatic notion. Your chest dropped as your elbows leaned against the table top. Your fingers circled around the brim of the empty glass until you noticed the same bartender behind the counter.

He stood tall, arms crossed against his chest with the towel hanging under his armpits. His face was turned to the side where the door was at. His jaws were clenched tightly and a big bold vein popped across his temple. His nose flared up and if you weren’t tipsy, you’d realise that he was glaring at your date who fled and left you alone. He shook his head and turned away, only to meet your curious eyes. He tilted his head towards, gesturing for you to come over. Very slowly you got up from your seat, and the napkin you had on your lap fell to the floor. In an instant, your hands covered your mouth in shock as fits of giggles escaped your lips.

The couple sitting next to you gave you a dirty look before shaking their heads. You mumbled an apology and bent down - or tried - to pick up the napkin only for your legs to give way and fell onto the pristine floor. Heat spreads onto your cheeks while pain shoots to your butt. You slid your fingers through the side of your hair, pretending that you weren’t embarrassed but the redness of your cheeks showed it all. You sighed softly and picked up the napkin.

“You okay?” A low, mellow voice called out causing you to drop the napkin. You turned to find the voice and was met with a pair of ocean blue eyes; the bluest shade of them all. His eyes were sunken in like a vampire’s or someone who had never slept. You felt your face flushed at how pretty his eyes were and how in this moment, you wished you could drown in them. Up close, you saw the tiny flecks of facial hair growing from his sides and lower border of his chin. You gulped thickly and bobbed your head. The corners of his mouth tilted up into a grin and put his hand out. Without hesitating, you reached out and placed your hands on them for him to yank you up. You straightened out the outfit you wore as he turned his head to the other table. “Nothing to worry about here!” He cleared out, gesturing everyone to turn back to their food.

“Thanks,” you muttered, smiling at him before picking up your purse. You were about to make way to the bar when your knees buckled in. The bartender caught you by your waist and held your hands tightly. “I think it’s best if you held me,” You said, causing him to laugh at this. His deep warm laugh soothed you from the embarrassment you were facing and made you soft and icky in your chest. He walked you to the bar, large hand still on your back as he made sure that you were properly sat onto the bar stools.

“Thank you, again, uhh” you said softly, trying to figure out his name but there wasn’t any name tag on his shirt.

“My name’s Sebastian,” he mentioned, still grinning while he made his way towards the back of the counter. Now standing at the opposite of you, his hands are on the steel countertop while looking at you. “And yours?”

“I’m Y/N,” you introduced yourself as you tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear. “And not just the girl who embarrassed herself after one of the worst dates in her life.” You smiled wildly, showing your teeth. He clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“You didn’t embarrass yourself, that date of yours was a class A asshole. A guy who leaves a drunk person unattended is a fucking dick,” he grumbled, his voice now lower and strangled. Your fake smile shifted to a small one as your heart lurched. Patchy pinkness bloomed on your face. You chewed on the inside of your cheeks, noticing how he took out of his phone and turned to you. “Want me to book an Uber for you?”

You shook your head but quickly stopped when it began to throb mercilessly. You didn’t want to leave, not when your day was just getting better. Though it had been only a few seconds, you were having fun with the beautiful Sebastian. Your stomach fluttered just thinking about him. “Nah, not yet but I do want a piña colada.”

“As a bartender, I know when someone has reached their limit,” he started as he poured clear liquid into an empty tall glass. “And it is my duty to get you home safely, so,” He sucked in a sharp breath and wiped away a few spilled droplets before placing the tall glass in front of you. “Here’s a glass of water, it will sober you up.”

Your smile quickly changed into a frown and you sat upright, arms crossed against your chest. You shook your head like a grumpy child while he gave you puppy eyes. Wide bright, blue eyes made you all tingly on the inside and in a matter of seconds, you let out a  groan in defeat. “I’ll only drink that if you share stories about your worst dates,” you suggested as your hand moved to grab the cold glass. He silently stood there for a second before propping his elbow on the counter top and leaned forward.

“Deal,” he uttered, fingers tapping intriguingly close to your hands. His lips now slightly pursed with his twinkling eyes on you. Your insides were screaming with glee, trying to rip you apart in happiness while your lips were thinned and your eyes told empty stories. You were immersed with his soft yet mysterious vibes and wanted nothing more to find out about him. “But you have to tell me about yours too.”

Your eyebrows knitted together in dismay. “You just witnessed one of my worst dates,” you declared as your free hand flew upwards. You had not noticed but this caused many heads to turn at your loud voice. You immediately covered your mouth and Sebastian giggled at this. There it is again; that warm giggle fighting all the coldness in your body. “That’s only one of your worst dates! C’mon tell me about the others,” Sebastian begged and clasped his fingers together.

“Fine,” you obliged and leaned forward. Your lips coming close to his face. “You’ll tell me yours, and I’ll tell you mine,” you said before bringing the glass to your lips. “Cheers!” Sebastian watched you downed the entirety of it, impressed that you could chug down that much water. The fact that you did not have a high tolerance boggled his mind.

You wiped your wet hands down on the sides of your clothes and tilted your head at Sebastian, gesturing for him to begin his story. “Alright,” he clapped his hands in excitement. “So, I went on a date with a person I was set up with by a friend. Basically, a blind date because I’ve never met her before. We went to a nice, casual seafood restaurant and I think it didn’t sit right with her. Throughout the date, she kept going back and forth to the washroom and then, after we paid for the meals and said our goodbyes, we hugged just for a second,” your eyes widened as a huge sadistic smile appeared on his face. “And then she pulled away and puked all over my outfit.”

“No fucking way,” you mouthed. A loud gasp left your lips as you leaned backwards. Realising there’s no back to the bar stool, you quickly grabbed onto the countertop to stop yourself from falling. You shook your head, trying to process his story. Sebastian raised his shoulders and gestured his hands upwards, palm facing up as a way to say, ‘it is what it is’. He grabbed your empty glass and filled it with more water.

“If you want a second story, you gotta drink it,” Sebastian urged, placing the drink in front of you once again. This was getting interesting so you downed the second glass of water and gently put the glass back. “Okay, so the second worst date of mine consisted of another blind date and their ex,” he dramatically said as his fingers moved in the air as though he was sprinkling magic dust at you. You leaned in forward, propping your elbows on the counter top. “We were at a small carnival in a suburb. It was autumn so it was chilly and I thought that’s why she was holding my hand and leaning her head against my shoulder. To keep herself warm y’know? But it turns out, her ex was there with his date and she was just trying to get his attention. She had dragged me all over the carnival to follow him and while I was getting drinks for her, she had left me to chase down the guy,” your fingers found their way to your lips.

“And I came back to her making out with him,” you sighed loudly and your hands moved to cover your eyes. You were shaking your head in pity and frustration for him. If he had been your blind date, you wouldn’t be on the floor, drunk off your ass. Why would anyone leave this gorgeous greek god for their ex? Some people, you thought. You lifted your head to watch Sebastian pour you another glass of water, “I don’t know whether I should cry or laugh.”

“You can laugh,” he assured as you took a small gulp of water, knowing that your stomach was hating you for drinking the other two way too fast. He raised his eyebrows at your confusion. “Seriously, you can laugh. These bad dates also made it to my funny story list,” you lightly scoffed and drank the whole glass down. Hands covered your mouth and stifled your burps.

“I just think that your previous dates don’t know what they’re missing out on,” you remarked and breathed in loudly. Sebastian’s head was tilted and a small smile appeared across his face. He breathed in happily and inched his face forward, closing in on you. You could feel his warm breath against your lips and just as you were about to close in on him, he whispers, “Okay, onto the worst date of the millenia,” and then pulled away.

“My uncle set me up with his colleague's daughter, with the date and location all set, so I went to meet her at a restaurant I previously worked at,” he paused what he was doing - wiping glasses with a towel - to check up on you. Your eyes were narrowed with your bottom lip tucked in between your teeth. “You’ll understand why I’m working here and not there anymore later in the story. Anyway, the person seemed lovely but every time I asked about her, she would answer and add something about me. Like for example, I asked her what her favourite food was and she answered it and then asked me whether my favourite food was my favourite food,” you nodded your head slowly, trying to follow his story but it was getting confusing.

“And the stuff that she mentioned weren’t even on any of my socials, so I was kinda confused on how she knew about all these things that were personal to me,” Sebastian was gesturing his hands a lot as he spoke, blue eyes as wild as a tsunami. “Because my uncle wasn’t even close to her or her father. To cut things short, she confessed that she had been following me around since an office party I went to months prior before the date and that’s why she planned for the date to be at the restaurant I worked at previously.”

“Oh my god,” you exhaled loudly, fingers massaging your temples. Before you know it, fits of laughter escape your lips. “Okay, you win the worst dates trophy because that shit is top tier!”

“I’m glad I’m making you laugh,” he teased, making you shut your lips but failed to do so as your laugh abruptly came off your lips. Just as you were about to ask him for another story, one of his co-workers came out to the bar area and yelled, “Last call!”

You sighed while moving your tired feet in circles, checking if they were okay to start walking. No longer feeling dizzy, you took out your phone and ordered your Uber. “Okay I think that’s my cue to leave”, you muttered only for Sebastian to quickly grab your arm gently. This made you face up and stare into his puppy dog eyes. His lips pouted slightly and his ocean eyes were gleaming.

“Don’t go,” he pleaded and squeezed your arm. “You promised me answers.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks as your heartbeat fluttered at his touch. Your lips curled upwards and you were dying trying not to pull on them. Slowly, you removed his hand from you and tilted it so that his arm was facing up. You grabbed a marker from his shirt pocket on his firm chest and started scribbling your numbers on his skin.

“Maybe I’ll tell you my stories over dinner,” you hinted, your shy smile now shifted into a teasing one. You turned to look at him and before you knew it, you were pulling him in by his shirt. Your lips grazed his before you closed in to leave a gentle kiss to his plump lips. As you pulled away, the feeling of his lips lingered on yours; he tasted like lime and tequila. You gave him a grin and a bing popped from your phone, indicating that your Uber was here. “See you soon, Sebastian.”

With that you head home for the night, with a text from Sebastian on your phone.  

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[edgeofmyniall]

two: “Far Away”

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“you know that I love you, I have loved you all along and I miss you, been far away for far too long. I keep dreaming you'll be with me and you'll never go”

a/n: there is a link in the middle of the story for it to make sense!! you’ll read what ginger sends niall!!

It had been two weeks since Ginger’s catastrophe with Niall. She ignored his texts, calls, dms, emails, anyway he tried to communicate with her. She busied herself into her work and avoided the subject of conversation when with Stella. When Niall came over, Ginger hid in her room, or at the very least pretended he wasn’t in the room with her. It had gone over well for the first week, but by the time that Monday came around, Ginger wanted nothing more than to choke Stella out. 

It was all she could talk about: how Niall is doing this, how good Niall is in bed, how he wrote a new song. Each time Stella said his name, Ginger felt a pit in her abdomen open up and as if she was forever falling. It was a wave of relief when Sheila knocked on her door for their daily break. 

“I made these last night,” Sheila passes the clear plastic Tupperware to Ginger only for her to see brownies piled on top of each other. 

“You are a Godsend, you know that right?” Ginger smiles at her friend before opening the red top to smell the heavenly treat. “This is exactly what I need after last week. If Stella said one more thing about her boyfriend, I would have killed her.” 

“You didn’t tell her yet?” Sheila crossed her leg over the other. Ginger shook her head as she chewed on the moist chocolate dessert. “I mean, honestly, is there anything to say?”

“I don’t know,” Ginger said with a mouth full of brownie. She had thought of talking to Stella about the incident, but the words never formed on what to say. Sheila took a brownie out of the tupperware and picked at it. Sometimes, Sheila only needed to talk to Ginger. 

“Well, at least he hasn’t made anymore of his advances. So that’s good, but Ginger, if he does, you need to talk to Stella,” Sheila’s face became more stern like she was getting onto Ginger for doing something she wasn’t supposed to do- as if Ginger was her daughter, not her co-worker. “And let me know so I can kill him.”

Ginger giggled at her friend and finished her brownie. “What are you doing for lunch?” 

“Allen’s taking me out to Dan Tana’s. Wanna join?” Sheila looks excited to go on her lunch date with her husband. That is something Ginger longs for: to be happy in a relationship even when she’s older. 

“I’m no third wheel. I’ll just grab something and come back here. Tell Allen I said hi though. And that I need another steak soon,” Sheila smiles as she gets up and walks to the doorway. “Wait, your brownies!”

“There all yours, sweetie. Be smart about this okay?” Her words were above a whisper as Rex, the office grinch walked past. Sheila winks before leaving Ginger alone with her thoughts- someplace she’d been avoiding for two weeks. 

Why Niall? Her close friend and her cousin’s beau. Why Stella? Why did Ginger mention the party a year ago? If it hadn’t been for Ginger, Stella would be dating someone who wouldn’t bat an eye at Ginger, but Niall...he listened to Ginger when she spoke, especially about the things that made her happy. He talked to her about important things: life, love, and her happiness. Niall is one of the few that know Ginger and why she closed herself off to relationships. He had comforted her that night while sitting on her couch as she cried her heart out. She told him everything- the first conversation, their first kiss, and the first time she gave in to him, how he used her. She had called him “John Doe” in her story, and it’s true: he is no one to her-some ghost in the wind that had made her realize that people deceive you no matter how good you treat them. 

Niall sat there and held her as the moon rose in the night sky when Stella was across the country on work. She felt the burn of his fingertips on her scalp as he pushed her frizzy, unwashed hair out of her face. She shook under his touch as his arms wrapped themselves around her curves, as he pulled her closer to him. Her heart leapt as his voice coaxed her down, like a loved one. But what she could never get out of her head, never stop replaying over and over was when Niall got up and began to pace to the glass back door. In the reflection of the moonlight, Ginger saw the tightlipped, jaw clenched man whose eyes were red from holding in his own anger and sadness. As if Niall actually cared for Ginger.

“That’s...not, that’s not how it’s supposed to go, Gin. Not every guy is like that. He’s a fucking idiot for doin’ that,amadán. I swear, if I ever see him, I’ll-” Niall’s fist closed shut and Ginger notices his knuckles bleed white as he takes a deep breath in; as he walked back to Ginger, he pressed his swollen lips against her right temple before whispering: “No one’s gonna hurt you now.”

Ginger shook the memory out of her conscience, but she finds herself touching the same temple that was left burned those months ago from Niall kissing her skin. Your cousin’s boyfriend isn’t supposed to do that, right?

Little things, like the temple kiss or lingering looks and touches, made Ginger question Niall’s intentions with her or Stella. Was he only being friendly and a good friend or is he implying something else? Because there was no way that she would steal Niall away from Stella- that would be crazy.

~~~~

For the remaining hours of the work day, Ginger’s focus slowly drifts from her computer to her view of downtown LA from her office window. She leans against the white wall and watches people going about their day and she lets her mind and imagination wonder. She closes her eyes and imagines a small farmhouse on a secluded ranch. She rides her mahogany horse  through the pasture and finds herself longing for someone. She sees the figure at the end of the wildflower field and as she trots over with her pet, the person comes into view. Her heartaches as she climbs down off her horse and wraps her arms around the person’s neck. She smiles into his skin and wonders if life could be better before reaching up to kiss the person deeply- something she hasn’t done in a while. 

A knock on her office door of her manager waving her goodbye pulls Ginger out of her dream. She blinks wildly and her heart cowards away in it’s cavity. Ginger busies herself as she gathers her things and shuts her computer down before grabbing files to only stuff them inside her work bag. It isn’t until she pulls out onto the highway with the standstill traffic that she acknowledges that she had imagined her happiness with the one person she shouldn’t...Niall Horan. 

~~~

A bottle of chocolate milk and a bag of hot fries from Ginger’s favorite corner store later, she’s standing alone in her bedroom as she paces back and forth, trying to figure out what she should do. On one hand, Niall is probably her only real best friend she’s had in a while and he knows everything about her, but on the other hand, Stella is her cousin and moreover, her sister. How could she betray her family like this? God, this shit belongs on a soap opera. For a second, Ginger laughs at the thought that she’s on Punk’d. She plans to stay inside her bedroom until she dies when Stella opens up her door without knocking. 

“Good thing I’m not having sex, Stel, Jesus.” Ginger jumps out of her skin and then proceeds to lay across the foot of her white bed. 

“As if,” Stella smiles. She clamors across the bed and lays on the dip in Ginger’s back. “You barely get out of the house. And I swear to God, if you’re Tindering in this bitch, I will disown you.” Stella sighs before she stifles a sniffle. 

Ginger swallows hard before rolling over in place. She sits up and Stella lays her head back down onto Ginger’s lap. “Nice outfit.” The green plaid skirt and black sweater with stocking was one of Stella’s favorite pieces of clothing that Ginger owned. 

“What’s wrong?” Ginger asks as she pets Stella’s hair. The sound of Stella crying fills the room before she answers: “Nothing.”

“What’s wrong?” Ginger asks again, this time her voice more stern than before. 

“Niall and I got into a fight. And it got pretty ugly. He said…” Stella hiccups before speaking again. “He said he doesn’t know if he wants to be with me anymore.” Ginger’s heart sinks and her palms begin to sweat as her mind races to think of something...anything to say.

“What? Why?” Ginger stammers out, but she knows why.

“Gin, all we do is argue. Or fuck. Or both. It’s exhausting, but I still want to be with him. I went to this astrologist and she said,”

“Here we go,” Ginger rolls her eyes and Stella sits up to wipe her makeup stained eyes. 

“Really Gin, she said that mine and Niall’s signs weren’t compatible. We’re destined to fail.”

“And she’s destined to pay her light bill; you can’t buy this bullshit.” Ginger huffed before getting off her bed. She pulled her black sweater off and let it hang over her iron bed frame before pulling off the rest of her ensemble. She hunted for an oversize t-shirt and gym shorts before turning around to see Stella still mouth agape.

“Like the dinosaurs were ever real either, Ginger, and yet you worship them.” Stella got off the bed as her eyes filled with tears.

“Scientifically proven, you ninny. Astrological signs are illogical. They’re just some who-do voodoo.”

Stella slammed the door and Ginger is left, again, to her own device. 

The more Ginger thought about the stars and signs, the more she was curious and the more curious she became the more she wanted to research. Placing her laptop on her bed, she laid on her stomach and began to look up the astrological signs and their compatibility of love. It was an overload for Ginger, but when she found an article about a sign that she knows is a certain someone’s and the compatibility of her sign, her heart banged against its cage. Her mouth became dry as she read on. She highlighted the link and sent it to Niall, but the one thing she did learn was that Stella’s matchmaking woman was right, Stella and Niall’s alignment did not match in any way, shape, or form.

~~~

Ginger slowly walked down the stairs of her shared home. The television’s volume was blaring through the plaster walls and the sight of Stella, still crying, eating ice cream made Ginger wish she had never said a word to her. 

“I’m sorry,” Ginger says loudly over the reality show. She’s at the bottom of the stairway and she looks like a small child apologizing to her sibling after getting sent up to her room. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands and she feels a bit nauseous if she’s being honest. Stella holds out the tub of ice cream toward Ginger, accepting her apology.

“He was kind of a dick, anyways. Always so loud,” Stella said as Ginger sat down on the couch with her. She eyes her cousin as she speaks down about her best friend. “I guess we’ll officially end it, who knows.” 

“I’m loud,” Ginger says softly, a mutter unable to be heard if you’re paying attention, before looking down at the two-thirds eaten ice cream. 

“Yeah, but you’re tolerable. Niall isn’t the easiest person to get along with. I don’t know though.”

Stella went back to watching her show, and Ginger continued to pick at the cookies and cream ice cream wondering if Niall had read the article or not.

As if he read her mind, Ginger’s phone, placed between her and Stella, lit up from the notification of an incoming text message.

Stella nonchalantly looks down at the glass screen before reading the name on the phone. Her brow contorts forward and her lips purse together. Ginger quickly grabs the phone and presses the lock button, making the screen go black.

“What does he want?” Stella asks Ginger, her voice like ice. Ginger quickly throws her shoulders up before forcing herself to look at the television. Forcing herself not to open the message in front of Stella. Forcing herself to think of anything but Niall.

It was until an hour had past that Ginger had walked up to her room, and after closing her bedroom door, she unclenched every muscle in her body and let go of the breath she had been holding in for the past sixty minutes. Her body began to involuntarily shake as she unlocked her phone. Even the sight of his name made Ginger feel on top of the world. 

Whatcha tryin to say Gin ?

Her nails clicked against the screen and the tapping of the letters went in rhythm of her own heartbeat. The lump in her throat began to feel hot and scratchy. She shouldn’t be doing this. 

That maybe you and Stella really are made for each other.

Keep it cool. Don’t say anything out of place, Ginger thought to herself. 

Oh is that all ?

Of fucking course it is Horan, what else would I be saying?!

Yes.

But we are. . ;)

Ginger left Niall on read as she got ready for bed. It was in the solace of her white sheets that she found herself texting Niall back like she subconsciously was egging this on, whatever this was.  

I’m not saying anything. Besides, you guys aren’t broken up. I’m just trying to help my friend out, ya know?

The ellipses popped up and went away as soon as it came on the screen. Niall did this for a minute before sending his response. Ginger began to pick at the dry skin on her lips waiting for his response. 

I see .. Maybe I don’t want your help ?

Ginger placed her phone down on her white nightstand and rolled over to face away from virtual Niall. It was then that Niall had broken his promise to Ginger.

~~~~~

tags: @oyesmendes @thicksniall @kare38 @stayclose-holdsteady @halfpinthoran

[lethbians]

how about a reddie barn party?

“a barn party?”

“yeah.”

“well what is it?”

mike looks at stan. stan looks at bill. bill, wide-eyed, looks back and forth between the two of them. 

“it’s… a party. in a barn.” stan speaks slowly, though the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s trying desperately not to smile. 

“well i nuh-know that,” bill says in exasperation, and mike lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and laughs, relieved. he knows bill is smart, he knows—the good grades and power essays will prove it—but sometimes bill’s brain cells took vacations. sometimes bill would write the coolest shit in creative writing class: the kinda shit that mike and bev and richie (so, by proxy, eddie as well) liked to read. horror stories, like the slasher films the losers stayed up to watch (ben and stan preferred anything but horror), though bill has a habit of adding corny romantic subplots that appealed more to ben than anyone else. bill would write those, would blow the whole loser’s club away with those, and then turn around and introduce himself as dilliam benbrough. 

his braincells took vacations, but they always came back. 

“i meant what is it fuh-for?” 

mike shrugs. “for fun.”

“why, do you have other plans that day, bill?” stan crosses his arms, and bill grins. 

“i’m in. on wuh-one condition.” 

* * *

“are you kidding me?” eddie scowls. “cowboy attire mandatory?”

“i don’t know why you’re complaining, eds; it’s your fantasy come true. i have two words for you, bro.” richie strikes a pose and the sound of his hand slapping against his thigh is too loud in the small space of the clubhouse. “assless. chaps.”

“take it back, bill, please.” eddie looks at bill helplessly, but bill’s too busy flipping through a Sears catalogue to see it. 

“shuh-should i get classic brown leather style boots? or should i g-go for a buh-bold black instead?” 

bev leans over his shoulder and points to an image on the sheet, her nail polish still wet. “these. they’ll match that plaid you got at the thrifty mart today.” 

eddie turns to mike, eyes desperate, but mike just shrugs. 

“i’ve been looking for a reason to wear my cowboy hat. sorry eddie.” 

richie slaps his thigh again and raises his eyebrows suggestively at eddie. “c’mon cowboy. saddle up, eddie, we’re goin’ full gay cowboy. wanna share a tent with m—.” 

eddie, red with fury (and flushed with embarrassment) punches richie’s shoulder. richie cackles, and cackles, until eddie’s pout twists like he’s holding back his own giggles; until stan turns to mike with a flat look and asks if they can be uninvited. 

“we need eight to square dance, stan.” 

eddie stops mid-tousle with richie and squawks. “we have to dance?” 

bill looks up from his magazine and sighs. “it’s a barn party eddie.” 

eddie flips him off, and this time they all laugh. 

* * *

“oh my god.” 

“wow.”

“holy shit, benny boy!” richie puts his hands on his hips and slowly turns in a circle, surveying the empty barn. “you out-fuckin’-did yourself, now!” 

“richie tozier!” calls a warning voice from the corner, and jessica hanlon gives him the stink eye from thirty feet away. “you watch your mouth while i’m around.”

richie holds up an apologetic hand, though his mouth quivers with the shadow of a smile. “you got it, mrs. h!” 

“nice, richie,” bev smirks. she turns to ben. “seriously ben, this place looks incredible.”

the lights were the hardest part: stringing them up in the rafters, wrapping them around the old wood and across the walls… ben had suffered his share of splinters and spider encounters. it’s a big barn too, and ben’s hands were sweaty from the early june heatwaves (and nerves from the spider encounters). but he’d managed, with the help of mike and his uncle, and now the whole barn was strung with fairy lights and chinese lanterns. 

“it’s dreamy,” bev says, looking ben in the eye as she does. “romantic.” 

ben goes as crimson as the barn and looks at his feet.

“thanks bev.” 

“are you guys gonna’ help set-up or just stand there like raisins on a celery stick?” jessica stands behind the group now, a sheen of sweat on her forehead. “your poor friend is struggling over there and you all are looking at the lights like a bunch of moths.” 

mike turns to where bill’s currently putting up the big banner he and bev painted. well, trying to put up the banner. actually, struggling is really the word he’s looking for. every time bill would get one side taped up he’d walk to the other, but just as he’d get that corner taped down the first side would fall again. mike bites his lip and tries not to smile too wide. 

they all stand there for another few seconds, watching bill continue to struggle, before mike shakes his head and jogs over to help. 

“oh!” bill says as mike pressed his palm to the paper to keep it up as bill fought with the tape dispenser. “th-thanks, mikey.” 

“no problem, bill.” mike watches bill attempt to rip the tape with his teeth. “are you going to the barn party with anyone?”

bill pauses, looks up at mike with the strip of tape still in his mouth. “uhh. the rest of yuh-you guys?”

“i meant as a date.” mike’s face is perfectly calm, but the cage of his rib bones shakes noisily with the thumping of his heart. “are you, you know, going with anyone?”

bill starts fighting with the tape again. “uh, n-no.”

“do you want to go with me?”

bill manages to rip off the tape he needs, and finally secures the poster. mike steps back cautiously from the wall, just in case it decides to fall again. nothing moves. mike looks back to bill, who still hasn’t answered. 

“yes. yuh-yeah.” bill smiles, a soft thing, and nods. “that’d be awesome, mikey.” 

“cool,” mike says, feeling very, very cool. “very cool.” 

* * * 

“whoa, eds, slow down—eddie, damn, what’re you running for?” richie’s keeping up pretty easily with his long legs and therefore long strides, but eddie’s practically jogging at this point and soon richie’s going to have to do the same. “what’s goin’ on, cowboy?”

“don’t cowboy me,” eddie grumbles, his boots making a little click click with every step as the fake spurs tapped against the sidewalk. 

richie stops. “eds, are you mad at me?” eddie’s still walking, albeit a little slower now. “eddie.”

“i’m not mad!” eddie says, madly, though he stops walking too. “i’m just. i’m. ugh!” eddie makes a little noise of frustration and richie tries desperately not to feel so fucking fond about it. “why didn’t you ask me to go with you to the barn party?”

if richie wasn’t already frozen to the spot, that would’ve knocked him out cold. “wh… what? whaddya mean? i’m here, with you, right— “

“but you didn’t ask. you just showed up unannounced like you always do.” 

“well yeah that’s just how it is—”

“but why didn’t you ask?” eddie turns, sparks of red on high cheekbones turned orange in the lamplight. he looks like a puppy, ears turned down and big brown eyes hiding sadness under the brow of anger that covered it. the pieces clicked together in richie’s head. 

“oh. ohhh. i get it.” richie shoves his hands in his pockets. “you wanted to be romanced.” 

“that is not what i said.” 

richie takes a few steps forward. “you wanted me to get down on one knee and lend you my kerchief as an invite to the debutante ball.” richie, playing up the western twang he’s taken on, over-pronounces every syllable in debutante. eddie scoffs to hide the beginning of a laugh. 

“shut up richie, i was just saying—“

“well, mistah edward j. kaspbrak— 

“don’t call me that.”

“— would you do me the honor of bein’ my pardner—“

“i hate you.”

“and accompanyin’ me to the hanlon barn party so i don’t haf’ta ride solo tonight?”

richie’s got his hand cupped under eddie’s chin by now, and the other arm curled loosely around eddie’s waist. in the early twilight glow, richie’s eyes shine with amusement and something else; something that’s always wrapped in every glance sent eddie’s way. love, probably, though eddie’s still scared to say it and richie’s no better. sometimes richie knows he’s in love but he also knows he was in love last year, and the year before, and the year before that one, and every year that goes by richie’s love feels deeper and stronger and real-er. richie used to think love was a peak at the top of a mountain of feelings but being with eddie has him thinking that maybe it isn’t, that maybe love is just a mountain and richie never wants to stop climbing. 

“yes, asshole, of course i want to go to the barn party with you.” eddie’s not even trying to look angry anymore. richie wants to kiss him, and he goes to do so, but the oversized rims of their cowboy hats bump together and it makes them both laugh. 

“gay cowboys sure have it rough, huh?” richie asks. “let’s try that again.” then he tilts his hat back, leans down, and kisses Eddie properly. 

* * *

the lights looked good in the day, but they look downright magical in the dark of night. there’s still a purple tint to the sky, leftover from the stretched out sunset, and though there’s no cracks in the roof to see the stars through, they cast a foggy glow on the grass outside. 

the music is loud, but not too loud, and cheerful, but not overtly so. dancing music, is what it is, and most people are inside making the most out of it. stan’s in there with patty, mike knows—he’d seen them spinning circles around everyone else. mike knows for a fact stan doesn’t take dancing lessons, but the way he and patty swing and dance with such ease and grace makes you think it was practiced. mike just thinks that true love shows in the way you move together. you can always see it in the way people dance. it’s about… well, richie and eddie have it too, and richie’s got two left feet and a tragic lack of the “being able to take things seriously” bone. 

it’s in the way they look at each other, though, the way eddie’s face pulls into a joyous adoration when richie spins him around the room obnoxiously even though he’s telling richie to put me down, put me down! it’s in the way bev brushes her fingers against ben’s when he hands her a cup of punch, and the way ben’s knee lingers when bev’s knee rests against his where they sit on the bench; like every touch is infinite, and worth every second. it’s in the way stan holds patty as they dance, like she’s something to be held, and the way patty holds him just the same. 

fuck, mike knows he’s only eighteen, but he knows what love, true love, looks like. 

“the p-party is inside,” bill says. an adjacent thought to mike’s last, suddenly here before him: bill, in all his plaid and leather fringe glory. mike’s heart, a racehorse poised at the startling line, takes off.

“i needed a break from the line dancing. your mom is kicking my ass.” it’s true. ms. denbrough sure knows how to country-shake it. 

“she was muh-more excited for this than i was,” bill jokes, and then walks the rest of the way from the barn to the edge of the field where mike is standing. 

“you look good.” it’s a bit sudden, maybe, but that thought evaporates when bill lights up with a shy smile. “the cowboy look suits you.” 

“thuh-thanks, mikey.” bill’s hand twitches, like he’s going to reach out, but it stays at his side. “your shirt. it’s a g-good shirt.” 

nice one, denbrough. bill makes a face. 

“i mean yuh-you look strong it it. i mean, handsome. and strong, tuh-too.” bill’s bright pink, and mike couldn’t think him any cuter. “yuh-you know what i mean.”

“i wear this shirt all the time,” mike says, just to see if bill will flush darker. he does.

“yuh-yeah, i know.” 

mike’s eyes flick to the barn and back. out here, the music is muffled, but mike can still tell hear andy williams crooning his familiar tune from the speakers inside. 

“do you want to dance with me, bill?” 

bill’s hand twitches again. “out here?” 

mike nods. bill nods, and mike bets his heart is knocking against his ribs just as hard as the one in mike’s chest. mike offers his hand, and bill takes it, and the next moment mike’s got bill denbrough against his chest as they sway to the easy beat of moon river.

it’s in the way bill steps on my feet, mike thinks. it’s in the way he apologizes every time, even when i just laugh and promise him it’s okay. it’s in the way he keeps apologizing, cheeks flushed and hands curled around mike’s arms, until mike kisses him quiet. 

it’s in the way that mike’s only eighteen, but he knows what love, true love, feels like.