#with the music playing in the crisp cool air while friends talk and kids run around laughing

[frozenhi-chews]

I'm adding pink to my favorite colors. Pink, purple, and orange. The colors of a sunset. The vibes of vaporwave. The delicious flavors they bring, the smells of a dusky night air, sitting in a car with music you listened to as a child playing in the car. All while pink clouds are streaking across the sky, underneath a purple sky, with the orange sunset reflecting it all

[seijorhi]

nostos.

well it’s not exactly monster fucking but um... here there be monsters.

Kuroo Tetsurou x female reader

TW implied non-con, nsfw-ish, blood, gore, minor character death, animal death, um somebody gets munched... 

Every good writer needs peace and quiet. Fresh air and a change of scenery.

You’re not running away, it’s more of a… tactical retreat. Two weeks disconnected from well meaning friends, pushy family members and your eternally irritating editor, with nothing but the beautiful, sprawling forests to keep you company.

The mountains are familiar, if isolating, you think, leaning against the porch railing with a warm mug in hand as the breeze picks up and the tall maple and birch trees rustle in response. The leaves are turning vibrant reds and gold with the falling temperatures and even in the eerie quiet of the cold morning, you can’t deny that it’s breathtaking. 

It reminds you of your childhood, the countless vacations you’d spent here with your family, always in autumn, always in time to watch the leaves change before the first snows of winter set in. Fond memories of running through the trees chasing after cute little bunnies, giggling even when you tripped up and scraped your knees. There was something mystical about the forest back then, something special. But it’s been years since you’ve been here last, and the first time you’ve ever come alone.

And yet it feels different somehow, colder despite the nostalgia. You’re no longer a child, looking at the world through innocent, wondrous eyes. The forest is just a forest. 

Of course, you weren’t an idiot; disappearing off the grid was one thing. Disappearing off the grid without anybody knowing where you were going was another entirely. They’d been surprisingly supportive of the plan – until you told them where it was you were planning on running off to.

‘Why go back to the mountain, honey?’ your mother had asked, her smile wavering and an odd tightness in her eyes. ‘Why not go to the coast instead? Or spend some time in the city?’

But this isn’t a fun little vacation. You don’t want to be distracted by beaches and crowds, you need space to finish your book and time to work through your mess of an emotional state without any interruptions. You want to be untraceable, at least for a week or two.

God knows the last thing you need right now is your ex tracking you down to try and apologise again.

Part of you had thought – somewhat naively, perhaps – that by coming back you’d spark… something. Your memories of the mountains are full of warmth and happiness, but as you stare out into the wilderness, all you feel is a cool chill that runs down your spine and the goosebumps that prickle at your skin. 

Setting your now empty mug down, you pull tighter at the thick knit cardigan draped over your shoulders. Enough reminiscing, your manuscript awaits.

—

The mountain’s too quiet. You don’t notice it so much during the day, the sound of music softly pouring from your laptop and the gentle clacking of keys as you type enough to distract you  from the eerie stillness outside the cabin. Even at night, you’re preoccupied with dinner, and then curled up on the couch with a warm throw rug watching reruns of your favourite shows on Netflix.

It’s only when you lie down, burrowed into the blankets to try and sleep that you notice just how silent the forest at your doorstep truly is. At first you think it’s simply being away from the hustle and bustle of home. There’s no cars driving past, or the sound of neighbours floating through your open windows, there’s not even the distant hooting of owls or dogs barking.

But it’s more than just quiet. There’s nothing. Even the trees seem to still once the sun falls beneath the horizon. And it shouldn't bother you, shouldn’t unsettle you, and yet…

The first few nights, you don’t sleep well. Tossing and turning in bed. When you do sleep, your dreams are plagued with unpleasant things. Not nightmares as such, but an uneasiness that bleeds into otherwise pleasant thoughts. On the fourth night you wake, gasping for air. Whatever dream you’d been in the grips of fades like smoke, and as you draw in another shuddering breath your throat itches and burns.

Water. You need water. 

You don’t switch on the lights as you fumble your way down to the kitchen, trying to preserve what little remnants of sleep are still in your system. Even with the moon almost full and the night sky clear, the canopy shrouds it. 

And it’s in that darkness, as your eyes flicker up from the faucet, that you see it for the first time.

A shape, huge and looming, silk shadow against black. 

For a moment, as your heart hammers against your ribs, a chill creeping down your spine, you don’t dare trust your eyes. Maybe you’re asleep still, dreaming, or your mind’s playing tricks on you, because there’s nothing that should be lurking in the woods outside of your window that size.

Two golden, cat-like eyes peer back at you.

They’re still there when you race to flick on the lights, unblinking, curious as you skitter backwards, hand over your racing heart.

You’re tired, emotionally drained and this–

This is nothing more than a figment of an overactive imagination, a child creating monsters from the shadows in their bedroom. Yet even as you run back to the safety of the bedroom, yank the curtains shut and huddle under the meagre warmth your blankets afford you, squeezing your eyes shut, you feel it out there still, watching.

And in the stillness of the mountains outside, you swear you hear footsteps.

—

You wake to fresh snow, too early in the year, even at these altitudes. It dusts the ground, covering the mossy paths in glittering white, clings to the branches of the trees – the red leaves looking like droplets of blood scattered across a grey sky. The snow will undoubtedly melt as the sun rises, turn to slush and mix with the dirt, but for now it’s a thing of beauty.

For a moment, you allow yourself to forget how tired you are, how unsettled, venturing out from the cabin with wide, excitable eyes. It never used to snow when you were here as a kid, and while you get the occasional snowfall back home, it’s nothing like–

You stop dead in your tracks. 

There’s two human footprints imprinted on the snow – only two – right outside your bedroom window, crisp and clean, as if they’d been left just moments before.

—

Your mother sounds worried when you call her. Of course, you don’t tell her about the lone footprints at your window, or the creepy pair of eyes you’d seen through the dark, you know how that sounds. You’re not crazy, and even if some part of you truly believed what you’d seen, your mom is the last person you’d admit it to.

Once upon a time, when you were little, she’d indulged in stories of fairies and spirits, but that was a long time ago. Now she turns up her nose and sneers at the myths and legends that your grandma still spouts, dismissing them with a scoff.

It’s not the kind of thing well-adjusted adults talk about in polite conversation.

She’s a good woman, but you can’t tell her this. 

And you’re not even sure you’re entirely sold on it either. The eyes could have been from a wild animal – big cats might be rare in Japan, but they do exist here. You were half asleep (half terrified) when you had seen them, you don’t want to make a fuss over nothing. The footprints are less easy to explain away. If there’d been tracks leading away, you could convince yourself that it was a lost hiker and nothing more.

But there weren’t any tracks leading away; just the two footprints. And what kind of hiker doesn’t wear shoes in weather like this? It’s possible that this is some kind of prank, a mean spirited trick designed to unsettle you – a job well done, by the way – but you can’t quite bring yourself to believe that either. 

In any case, you’re hardly going to admit over the phone that you’re freaking out over some footprints in the snow. God knows she’s already worried enough about your mental state, has been ever since the breakup, and you’re not going to give her any more ammunition. 

But perhaps there is something to that maternal instinct, because despite your best efforts to reassure her that you’re doing just fine, that your novel’s going great and you’re so glad you came out here, she still sounds entirely unconvinced.

“Honey, you know you can tell me if something’s wrong,” she tells you, her voice strangely hesitant. “You don’t sound yourself, are you sure everything’s okay?”

You don’t know why you called her at all. You always have been a shitty liar, and she’s always been able to see right through you. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Honestly the fresh air’s doing me good,” you tell her. “It’s weirdly quiet here though, I’m not used to it,” you laugh, and even to your ears it sounds hollow and fake.

There’s a heavy pause on the other end of the line, and if you close your eyes you can almost picture it, your mom leaning against the kitchen counter, teeth worrying into her bottom lip–

“I just don’t like you out there all by yourself.”

Relax, what’s the worst that could happen?

The words almost, almost slip out, an instinctive reaction to a mother’s well meaning but overbearing concern. But it feels like tempting fate, and whether or not you’re fully convinced that there is something strange happening, you’re not that bold. Instead you begin to tell her (again) that everything’s fine when she suddenly speaks again.

“Bad things happen in those mountains. Just… just promise me you’ll be safe.”

Abruptly, the line goes dead. 

Pulling the phone from your ear, you glance down at the illuminated screen, only to frown when you see the little ‘SOS Only’ flashing in the top corner. Huh, you’d had a few bars when you’d started the call, but… 

The weather’s gotta be messing with your signal. Stranger things have happened, right?

Shaking your head you resolve to give her a call tomorrow. And yet, even as you try to put her parting words from your mind and throw yourself back into your writing, you can’t help but feel that familiar sense of cloying unease seeping through your skin once more. 

What the hell had she meant, ‘bad things happen in those mountains’?

—

A good night’s sleep can do you wonders. 

Well, theoretically speaking. You can’t remember the last actual decent sleep you’d had, but regardless, the point stands. All you need is an uninterrupted eight or nine hours, and this… paranoia will go away. Things’ll be clearer in the morning, so long as you sleep.

The mantra doesn’t help you any, of course. 

You don’t need to peer through the window to feel those watchful eyes staring. And maybe it would be easier to ignore the prickling sensation at the nape of your neck if it weren’t for the noises.

Music isn’t loud enough to drown out the sound of the mournful wails, like a wounded animal crying out in pain. It’s incessant, inescapable, reverberating inside of your eardrums until it’s all you can focus on.

It’s instinctual, you think, the urge to creep from your bed and try to find the creature making that sound and help it. But even as your feet touch the cool floorboards, your gut clenches, hackles rising. Something deep inside of you warns you from leaving the safety of the cabin.

Whatever creature is making those noises, it’s not calling for help.

You don’t feel like you’ve slept at all, but you must have because at a certain point in the morning you blink your eyes awake, exhaustion clinging to you like a second skin.

And this time it’s not snow that greets you, but the mangled remains of a doe ripped apart on your porch. Deep, jagged gouge marks run along its flank, organs spilling from the cuts and there’s little left of its neck, the whole thing torn out with teeth. Yet for the gruesome injuries, the only blood you find is congealed, pooled beneath the poor creature.

Whatever happened to it, it didn’t happen here. The knowledge doesn’t soothe you like it should – the park ranger you spoke to on the phone mentioned that while it’s rare, sometimes bears venture a little too close to buildings, though he sounds doubtful even as he says it.

He sounds even less interested when you tell him this doesn’t look like a bear attack, but promises they’ll send someone down in the next few days to check everything out. In the meantime, he suggests, it’s best to stay indoors. 

Yeah, not gonna be an issue.

And so with no feasible way of moving it, you’re left with the butchered corpse of a doe just outside your front door. And the thing that bothers you isn’t so much the body, though you still can’t look at it without wanting to throw up, but the fact that it was just… left there.

Not eaten. No, aside from the missing throat, the deer’s all there. Ripped apart with its guts spilling out, but otherwise untouched. Growing up you had a cat, the sweetest little thing, but every once in a while she would get out of a night, find some poor little creature to torment and without fail, she’d bring it back home, leaving it half dead on the doorstep like a gift.

‘See what a good hunter I am?’ she seemed to say, smugly sauntering back inside. 

It wasn’t about food. It wasn’t hunger that drove her, but instinct. As you stare out the window at the doe, at the milky white emptiness of dead eyes, you wonder whether that’s the same here. There’s no tracks in the dirt, no blood smeared across the ground – it wasn’t dragged here. No animal could’ve done this. 

A gift? 

Or perhaps something less benevolent. A threat. You’ve crossed into territory you don’t belong and the deer, cruelly ripped apart and left to bleed out on your doorstep is a line in the sand.

Either way, as tears fill your eyes, a sob tugging free from your chest, you realise that it was a mistake to come here. You don’t know whether you trust your eyes and your ears anymore, but there is something deep inside of you that tolls like a warning bell and as much as you’d like to bury your head in the sand and pretend there’s nothing wrong here, you can’t.

Bad things happen in those mountains.

You need to leave.

The next ferry to the mainland doesn’t leave until tomorrow morning, but it’ll have to do. Once you stop shaking and calm down enough to carry a conversation, you call the local cab company to arrange a pick-up first thing.

You can survive one more night, you just need to throw yourself back into your writing… if you can only just ignore that sense of foreboding prickling at the back of your neck.

—

There’s a boy running through the trees, giggling as he glances back at you. His hand’s outstretched, wrapped ‘round yours tugging you along as he laughs at you to hurry up.

It’s late, the sun dipping below the horizon, but you don’t wanna go back just yet.

You’re having fun, playing in the forest. And the light is golden, filtering in through the pretty red leaves, your sides burn a little from all the chasing and laughter but it’s a good kind of ache. You don’t want today to end.

His name is Kohsuke, you remember, and he lives down in the village by the valley. He’s only one year older than you, and you’d follow him anywhere. 

You think you might be a little in love with him.

‘C’mon, hurry up! It’s only a little further!’ he calls, and you nod, scrambling over the fallen trunk of an oak tree. There’s old spirits who live in this forest, he’d told you, and today you’re finally gonna see one.

It’s dark now. Cold too. You’re tired and hungry and you kinda want to go home, but Kohsuke won’t let you. ‘Just a little longer! Don’t you wanna see them?’

You do. Of course you do. It’s just that you’re starting to get a funny feeling in your stomach… Can he hear the footsteps too? Is somebody following you?

There’s a voice in your ear, a soft, silky purr that makes a shiver roll down your spine, but you can’t make sense of the words, they’re not in any language you understand. You don’t tell Kohsuke – he can’t hear it, otherwise he would have said something. You just clutch his hand tighter, skipping closer.

‘W-we should go back, Koh,’ you murmur, wincing when it comes out in a childish whine. ‘We’re gonna get in trouble.’

You aren’t supposed to stay out playing after dark, he knows it as well as you do. ‘You trust me, don’t you? Stop being such a chicken!’ he snickers as your cheeks heat.

The voice at your ear growls, low and threatening. You need to go back, now.

You blink, and the scene changes.

You’re curled up on the forest floor, hands covering your eyes. Somebody’s screaming – Kohsuke – crying out your name through ragged sobs, pleading–

There’s a crunch, a ripping sound, a wetness sprayed across your cheek. 

Kohsuke’s not screaming anymore.

Something warm and heavy touches your head, drags through the locks of your hair and you just huddle tighter, eyes squeezed shut, shaking like a leaf as more tears spill. You don’t wanna die here. 

The crunching sounds continue, and you keep your eyes tightly shut. It can’t hurt you if you don’t look. 

It can’t hurt you if you don’t look. 

It can’t hurt you if you don’t look. 

It can’t–

A loud knocking jerks you back to consciousness, your body jolting upright, almost swiping your laptop off the table as you try and gather your bearings. Right, you’d been working on your novel, sitting up at the kitchen table, you must have dozed off… A quick glance out the window tells you that you must have been out of it for a while – the late afternoon shadows are starting to creep in, the sky a golden orange. 

What the hell was that dream?!

“Hello? Uh, anybody home?” a masculine voice calls, another loud knock sounding. “We got a call about a wild animal attacking deer…”

Oh, you think, trying to shake yourself out of your stupor, the wildlife people, yeah. You feel a little nauseous, feverish and trembling, though maybe that’s just the result of your erratic heartbeat. 

Swallowing down the bile in your throat, you turn your attention to the door. Truly you hadn’t actually expected that they’d send anybody out to investigate, much less that they’d arrive before you left, but you can hardly turn him away now.

Especially not when there’s a freshly butchered deer corpse lying only a few feet away from your front door. Quickly, you run a hand over your hair, taking a moment to try and collect yourself before you answer.

It doesn’t work – there’s a knot in your throat and for every step you take towards the door it feels like your legs are gonna give out from under you. You move in a daze to unlock the door, only just remembering to school your features into an expression slightly less alarming as it swings open. 

A ranger, tall with a shock of black, messy hair that reminds you oddly of a rooster greets you with an easy grin. “Oh good, I was starting to think nobody was home. You the one that called?”

Distantly, you nod, fingers clutching at the edge of the doorframe. The ranger glances over at the remains of the deer, still lying in a pool of half dried blood, studying it for a moment, hazel eyes sweeping over the deep gashes in its side. You can’t bear to follow his gaze, you’re not sure you can look at that thing again without throwing up. 

He whistles lowly, shaking his head, “Well you don’t see that every day,” he laughs.

Your eyes snap to his, narrowing slightly. It’s not his fault, you know that, but you can’t help the flicker of irritation that sparks at the cavalier attitude. This is just his job, you get it, but you don’t exactly feel like laughing right now. 

“You still think a bear did this?” you retort, the words coming out a little sharper than intended. 

But the ranger takes it in stride, shrugging as his smirk widens. “A bear, huh?” Amusement glitters in his eyes, sharp and mocking. “Why don’t I come inside and you can tell me all about it?” he offers, stepping closer towards you. 

And there’s no reason for your heart to skitter, your blood running cold as he looms over you in the doorway, still wearing that stupid, irritating smirk. There’s no reason for your insides to clench either, or for the tiny, jerky step backwards you take, your body moving of its own accord.

The ranger pauses, head tilting to the side as he stares at you.

Really stares, like he’s waiting for something. And as discomfited as you are (and as much of an asshole as this guy is), a weary apology is halfway to your tongue when he shifts slightly, propping an arm up against the door – the last, dying rays of light catching his face. 

It’s just for a second.

A heartbeat.

But long enough for you to watch those hazel eyes shift to gold, pupils elongating into slits. 

You stumble backwards, breath coming in a short, ragged gasp as your eyes widen into saucers. “What are you?”

The ranger before you chuckles and you catch a glimpse of his teeth; pearly white and glinting, sharper than they had been only moments ago. “Why don’t you let me in and find out for yourself, kitten?”

You shake your head, retreating further into the cabin, heart pounding. 

“No? You don’t like this body, is that it?” he asks, a cruel edge to his smirk as he takes a half step backwards and slowly spreads his arms. “Something more familiar, then.”

And you don’t think there’s any room left in your heart for more fear, your stomach already twisting in sickening knots, but you blink and standing right there in front of you is Kohsuke.

It’s a punch in the guts, a knife slipped between your ribs, yanked ruthlessly through your still beating heart. He’s beaming up at you, those same adorable dimples, the same ridiculous bowl cut, bleeding youthful innocence. “How about now?” he asks, holding out his hand and wriggling his fingers like he expects you to take it. “You’ll let me inside now, right?”

A strangled noise escapes you as you fall to your knees. Tears fill your eyes, blurring your vision – you blink them away but more take their place. 

“You trust me, don’t you?” he asks, and you wail in response.

It’s too much. You shake your head, hugging yourself tightly, as if your arms are the only thing keeping you from falling apart entirely. 

He calls your name – not in Kohsuke’s childish lilt, but that deep, ancient purr that makes the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. “Let me in.”

“Go away,” you gasp through tears. “Please– please go away.”

The creature shifts again, the dark haired ranger back in Kohsuke’s place. He eyes you, those unnatural gold irises watching with utter enthralment as you sob pathetically on the floor, still pleading – though you know it’ll do you no good – for him to leave. 

“Last chance, kitten. Let me in, or I’ll make you come out.”

He – it – doesn’t sound nearly as put out by the prospect as it should be. 

And you don’t know why giving permission matters, all you know, all you care about, is that it’s keeping that thing at bay for now. It can’t come inside and so long as you don’t leave the safety of the cabin, it can’t hurt you. The words are nothing but an empty threat.

Right?

You shake your head, defiant even as your voice hitches and trembles, “No.”

“Stubborn little thing,” the creature croons, the smirk on its face widening until the visage no longer resembles anything human – mouth splitting its face in two, rows of long, sharp teeth revealed. “So be it.”

A low growl resonates in its chest, and you can only watch, petrified, as thin, vein-like black marks begin to appear over pale skin, growing thicker, cracking as shadow curls from underneath. The creature itself starts to grow too, limbs elongating as muscles ripple and swell, claws bursting forth in place of fingernails, shoulders broadening – until it’s towering over you, wreathed in thick shadow, grinning with that terrifying mouth. 

This is the thing you’d glimpsed that first night. A creature ripped from nightmares and primal fears, strong enough to tear you apart with a single hand. That’s what it’d done to Kohsuke, to the doe, what it’d do to you if you gave it half a chance.

“You wanna play, kitten?” it asks, head tilting to the side. 

Slowly, it backs away from the door, keeping its gaze fixed firmly on you. For a moment, you think that it’s going to disappear back into the forest, or plant itself by your window to watch for another night, waiting you out till dawn, but instead it stops by the old oak that overhangs the porch and stills entirely, simply… waiting.

“Let’s play.”

Abruptly, the oak beside it bursts into flames. It takes only a heartbeat for the entire thing to be engulfed, red and orange flames licking along the trunk, the gnarled, spindly branches, even the leaves are alight, burning away into ash and floating off in the breeze. The heat from one tree alone is searing, the crackle of burning wood and your own horrified, shuddering breath the only sounds in the night.

It snowed only a few nights before, but the fire spreads with unnatural ease, flames racing across the canopy, embers lighting up the undergrowth, and in the space of a few seconds there’s an inferno raging through the forest before you. And through the smoke and the red, burning haze, the creature watches, smirking.

The heat from the wildfire sears painfully at your skin, the air around you suddenly thick with smoke, stinging your eyes, choking your lungs, and yet you can’t seem to tear yourself away. It’s like a dream, a nightmare, some kind of… hellscape.

And for a moment you forget that there was a purpose to this, too lost staring in mute horror as the forest you’d played in as a child burns–

At least until a single leaf from the oak tree, edges curling as it’s consumed by flames, falls, carried by the breeze and lands on the wooden railing of the porch. With a soft whoosh, the old wooden beam catches fire, and with your chest heaving, panicked breaths falling from parted lips, you rise to your feet as flames spread, the fire eating everything in its path until the entire porch is alight, burning.

Run. 

You don’t know if the voice in your head is yours or not, you don’t have time to care. You scramble for the back door, throwing it open, and you run.

Run until your lungs burn, til’ your bare feet are scratched and bleeding, run, pushed forward by the sweltering heat at your back, the chilling crackle of laughter that follows. You run through tears, through pain and air so thick with smoke that it hurts to breathe.

And you know the creature’s giving chase, you know that you won’t – can’t – outrun it, nor the inferno that blazes around you. You know that it’s futile, that you’re probably running to your death, but that’s human, isn’t it?

To run when you’re scared?

The sky’s awash with a hazy red glow when it catches you, throwing you to the ground, and still you try to crawl. Desperate, choking on broken pleas and sobs, nails raking through the dirt as you try to pull yourself forward. 

And when your pants are ripped from your legs, a puff of warm air ghosting over the nape of your neck as you’re shoved back down, those long, black arms settling either side of you, caging you in – you know that you’ve lost.

“Mine,” the creature growls, and you barely have time to scream before its cock shoves into you with one brutal, merciless thrust. “Mine.”

[thatonecoryosimp]

The Devil's Mercenary Part 9. Technoblade X reader. Love Locked

I'm finally getting the next chapter out, I'll be updating and writing some things today cause I'm not at school, I'm sick. I'm waiting for the meds to kick in right now so it doesn't feel like my head is imploding. This is a Dream chapter, wink wink, nudge nudge.

I've been rly sick the last week or so, and my relationship status is now complicated, so y'know.

Warnings: Smut, Mommy kink, Dom reader, Sub Dream, words like "baby, pet, whore." Beware.

Date: 10/5/2021

Series Masterlist

I was going about my day, as usual, my shoes crunched along the ground as I watched the colored leaves shake in the wind. Fall was such a beautiful season, everything sparkled in such a way, one that could melt the heart of even the most brutal of people.

The crisp air made its way through my hair, I could swear I could see it, dancing in its mysterious way, moving to its own tune.

The birds were heard chirping and I watched as small critters ran along the ground, basking in the sun's warm light.

And while fall was a very beautiful season, it was also very melancholy. It, like everything else, held two sides. While the land and the trees and the animals rejoiced in the cooling temperatures, and they turned to magnificent colors.

The thought arises that even if they are beautiful, they're still going to die. This was the leaves' last blaze of glory, its final bow. Some fell sooner than others, and in a few weeks, the rest would join. Dotting the Earth in their colors for a short time before losing them. Going brown, then to fall into obscurity.

It could almost make me sad to think about, but right now I could still enjoy the wonder the beginning of fall brought.

I felt the timber basket swish in my hand and I looked down to see a songbird, it had landed on the lid of the wooden container and started to peck at the whisker.

A chuckle formed as I stared at the gray and yellow bird.

"Well hello, little guy," I laughed. The bird's eyes met my own and it started to twitter. Its beak barely opening in closing. I grinned as I looked at the small animal.

"Aren't you just a little cutey?"

"Are you talking to a bird?" My eyes shot up and the basket jolted with my body, this had startled the bird causing it to fly off. I huffed as I watched the flurry of gray and yellow fly off.

"What was that for?" I glared at him.

I could see the blond stand up with a laugh, his emerald eyes blazing as he looked at me.

"I'm sorry I scared your little friend away," he walked closer to me with an almost loving smile on his lips, "Maybe we should eat to take your mind off it?" I felt him take the handle from me before putting one of his hands on the small of my back.

I slightly leaned into his side as I let myself react to his touch. My eyes closed again and a breath left my lips. I felt my nose scrunch slightly, this was only a deal, that's all it was. It wasn't anything else. This wasn't cheating, I wasn't even officially dating Wilbur.

I felt bad, I really did, but whenever I looked at him or was around him, I felt so right.

My eyes opened and I looked up at the man that caused my problems.

"I think this should be a good place, hmm?" I lost eye contact with him as I glanced around. The sight of the autumn trees brought a smile to my lips, it was so enchanting. The sun was setting in the distance, still peaking out over the treetops.

"Yeah," I answered breathily, "this is nice."

He sat the basket on the ground and pulled out the blanket stored in there. He unfolded it before ruffling it through the air, I watched it unfurl before it was placed on the slightly bumpy grown.

I sat down first, soon to be joined by the man that called me here.

I was the one to start unloading the food, taking out tasty concoctions Niki and I had made the night before, she hadn't questioned why I had wanted to bake so late, just happily obliged to help me.

As I sat out the last of the food I looked at him with a questioning stare, he was already looking at me, his eyes flickered in the last rays of sunlight, he had a dopey smile on his face.

"Why did you ask me to come here today?" I asked. I could see him slightly falter before picking up one of his favorite treats, it was a double-stuffed chocolate loaf cake, I had baked it for him before, and he constantly begged me for more.

"I wanted to tell you some things, I'm going to be talking to Wilbur tomorrow but I knew you'd want to be caught up." My eyebrows furrowed as I picked up a sandwich.

"Go on."

He smiled at me and took a bite of his cake, "I wanted to offer L'manburg their freedom."

My eyes widened as I looked at him, "What's the catch?"

"That there would be an election, an old friend of mine offered me a proposition. That I give L'manburg their freedom, if he could run for president, all I would have to do is be his endorsement."

I looked at him with widened eyes, if Wilbur agreed, he could win, I know he would win.

"Who's your 'old friend'," I questioned, still slightly skeptical.

"JShlatt."

The name sounded slightly familiar, I just couldn't put my finger on it. I nodded my head, my eyes were unfocused as I looked at him.

Before I could say anything else, he interrupted again, I could see him take a quick inhale of breath, "There's one more thing I would like to run by you." I stared at him, but he was looking at the ground.

A hum fell from my lips as I continued eating my food.

"I would like to temporarily put the killing part of our deal on hold."

That definitely caught my attention, "So we would just be fucking?"

He paused a minute, looking at me, then at the ground, I could see him struggling to find the right wording, "Yeah..."

I could hear his voice trail, there was something else there, but at the moment I didn't feel like pushing.

Other thoughts were swimming through my head at that moment, so many questions that would be left unanswered for the time being.

That would make it cheating, wouldn't it?

I could tell he noticed my hesitancy.

"Hey," he mumbled, scooching closer to me, his hand cupped my jaw as he looked at me.

"How about we take your mind off it?"

I looked at him with slightly glazed eyes, "How?" I saw him smile. The moon started to rise from the other side of the trees, I could see fireflies winding through the trees as I stared at the man in front of me.

He stood up and grabbed something out of his pocket, and as the moon rose I saw lanterns turn on all around me, light illuminated his features as he stared down at me with his hand held out.

I heard music start to play, it was low, almost like a wedding song.

"Would you dance with me?" my hands were placed in his as he pulled me up.

My body was swirled into his body. He held me close, his feet finding a rhythm with the melodies. His smile was sweet, and the way he held me with such purpose made my heart melt.

He twirled us around the open area. My head rested on his chest. My eyes were closed as one of his hands was wrapped around mine. My arm was rung around his neck.

The mood was made better when I accidentally stepped on his foot, both of us started laughing as I kept stumbling.

His body shook as he buried his nose in my hair. The arm around my waist tightened around me.

"You're such a klutz," he mumbled.

It was a jab, yes, but it was soft. He was kidding. I could hear him mumble something else under his breath.

"Hmm?" I asked.

"Don't worry about it, gorgeous."

I felt him press his lips to my forehead as the music slowed to a stop. We stood there for a few seconds. It was peaceful, standing there with him, away from everything. He made me feel loved.

He pulled away and guided me back to the picnic area. I could see a squirrel ruffling through some of the food. A laugh tumbled from my throat as I watched Dream panic.

"My cake!" he bellowed as he ran over. The critter raced off as the large man stumbled over. He looked over the picnic area and whined as he saw the crumbs of his cake. He sat back dejected, head held low.

My heart slightly sputtered as I looked at him, something came over me as I walked over to him. My pointer finger hooked under his chin and I pulled his head up. He looked at me with big puppy dog eyes.

"Do you want me to make you feel better?" with that the mood shifted, it was charged, electric. His eyes widened before he nodded

"Yes, please."

I smiled and bent down and pressed my lips to his. I broke the kiss and sat down on his lap. One arm got thrown around his neck and the other got placed on the middle of his chest.

I connected our lips again with a smile, I felt him whine again as I began to put pressure on his middle, he leaned back on the blanket so now I was straddling his hips.

I once again pulled away, he looked at me with such big eyes as I sat upright completely.

"Please..." I heard him mumble. A smile pulled on my lips.

"In a minute, baby. You'll get what you want."

I pulled my shirt off my body as I looked back at him. His hands went to my bare hips but I pushed them off.

"Not yet pup, mommy's working still."

he nodded and tried to sit still, watching me with hungry eyes, I stood up for s second to take off my pants. I knew he was watching me, and I was going to milk every second.

I pulled off the pants and hooked my thumbs in my underwear. I slowly started pulling them off. I slipped them over my feet and sat back down. I grabbed his hands and brought them to my back.

He unhooked my bra and pulled it off, throwing it to the side. I began to palm him through his pants, a groan tumbled from his lips at the sensation.

It was rather easy to pull them off, just a quick tug and they were down to his thighs. I crawled the rest of the way down his body and took him in my mouth. I felt his hands land in my hair.

"Mommy," he moaned, "oh please, mommy."

My head started to bob faster as I felt him tug at my hair. His thighs clenched a bit and I pulled off him.

I looked up at him as his hands fell from me, he had a look of confusion on his face.

"Don't worry baby, mommy's gonna take care of you."

I quickly placed my entrance over his shaft before sinking down. A loud moan fell from my baby's lips as he grabbed my hips. His head was thrown back as he bit his lips between his teeth.

I gently started to rock back and forth, before starting to slightly bounce. Leaning forward so I was resting on his chest. I could listen to him as so many moans fell from him. His hips sputtered as I started a little faster.

His hair was messed up, his head was thrown back, his face was flushed, and his eyebrows were scrunched up.

"You look like such a little whore." I moaned, watching as my words had an instant reaction. His hips coming up to meet mine.

"Are you mommy's little whore, huh? Huh, prince?"

"Yes-" there was a break where you could just hear his panting and skin slapping together, "Fuck, I'm such a whore for you mommy."

A moan sounded from my lips as I continued to chase both our highs.

"Am I being a good boy, mommy? Please tell me I'm being a good boy," I heard him moan.

"Yes baby, you're being such a good boy," I paused for a moment, my own breath becoming ragged, "Such a good boy for me."

It wasn't long before I felt his thighs clench up again, "Mommy, I need- I need to cum, please."

I nodded, "Cum for me, come on, baby."

My hips sped up slightly, just enough to tip him over the edge, I felt my own high tumble over me as I stopped, I felt him fill me up with warm hot ropes.

Our breathing slowly regulated as we laid there.

"Do you feel better now?" I asked.

"Yes, so much better."

~Jules

~~~~

I got kinda tired towards the end so I'm sorry if it's kinda shitty, I think I should lay down for a bit. Have a nice day lovelys, take care of yourselves, drink water. Love you guys.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Found Out

CW: Not much! Just some brief references to death and to pet whump

“Remind me why I’m watching fucking youtube videos of fucking gymnasts today?” Will asks, laid out on the couch with his legs over Mari’s lap as she fiddled with her phone. Brooke and Laken have half the carpet in the student lounge for their dorm covered in papers, markers, and pens, working on some kind of poster for a party Brooke is throwing. 

“Because,” Becka - she’s in a bunch of Will’s classes and is doing printmaking for her major, which makes her officially cooler than Will himself - says, sitting legs-crossed on the floor looking up at the lounge TV, then down at the laptop open in front of her. “Akio Nakamura literally grew up like two hours from here, he trains right near here!”

“I have no idea who that is,” Mari says without looking up, huffing a hint of soundless laughter. Will sits himself up a little on his elbows and turns to look as Becka finally gets the cast to work. Youtube pops up on the TV screen, the video frozen right at the start, with AKIO NAKAMURA, 20XX Musical Floor Routine  just underneath.

Paused and ready to begin is a screenshot from the video, of a short, heavily muscled teenage boy grinning over his shoulder at someone off screen. 

“He’s the favorite for the U.S. team for the Olympics this year! I always follow gymnastics and figure skating, basically that’s all I care about, but Akio is the best. He is definitely getting the gold this year.” 

“Oh, definitely,” Brooke says, with an exaggerated nod. “Definitely the gold, uh-huh.”

“Yes,” Mari cuts in. “I care very deeply about this and also agree that he will get the gold. Um. Whoever he is.”

“Fuck off, guys.” Becka flips them off over her shoulder without looking back and clicks, a narrator - presumably Nakamura himself - explaining the floor routine he’s about to do, that when he’s not competing he’s always liked to build himself a music-based routine, and this recording has been around for a long time and he’s just getting around to loading it up.

“For a long time I never touched these old recordings - you know, it just, you’ll see why later - but I think it’s probably time. And I really liked what we did.”

“We?” Mari asks.

“Sssshhhhh.”

The same teenager from the screenshot steps out onto a large mat in a gymnast’s leotard, taking position. His team is lounging in the background, talking to each other, to the coach, practicing their own moves. They’re a mix of blondes, brunettes, redheads, and people with black hair, a bunch of kids of varying ages, heights, weights, and looks. 

Will squints at a redhead in the corner of the screen, watching Nakamura take position from just in the corner, bouncing on his toes, rolling his shoulders, in a constant nonstop motion. Something about the redhead looks vaguely familiar, but the video is a little blurry from casting larger onto the TV and hasn’t settled into crispness yet. 

“Wait, I thought dudes didn’t get to use music,” Ben says from the table over in the corner, where he’s been steadfastly ignoring everyone else while reading a book and claiming it counts as hanging out if I’m physically here, okay, trust me, I’m an introvert. He looks up, now, with some vague hint of interest. 

Becka sighs and hits pause again. “They don’t,” She explains, patiently. “Male gymnast floor routines are all about strength, and rhythm isn’t really important. But Akio likes to use music and he does these videos where he does the same kind of floor routines the girls do? I think just for fun. But he has a whole youtube channel and there’s a bunch on here, and he’s been putting up old ones from way, way back. I guess some friend of his who died is in them, so he just got around to looking at them again.”

“Lovely. And you’re inflicting this on us because…”

“Mari, seriously, it’s so cool to watch. Just fucking deal with it, or keep scrolling.”

Mari grins, nudging Becka with her foot. “Kidding, Becks. I’m watching, I promise. Hey, where’s Chris?”

Laken shrugs without looking up from their current work very carefully gluing an intricate paper cutout down to the posterboard. “Dunno. Had something to do with his brother, I think.”

“I swear, I’m a twin and I don’t like my brother as much as he likes his,” Brooke says, rolling her eyes, and Laken snorts, eyes slightly crossed as they very carefully pull a small line of glue in a perfect spiral with the paper.

“Guys, for the love of fuck, just shut up and let me watch this.” Becka waves her hand backwards, and Laken and Brooke share a look and an eyeroll, but the room goes quiet. Becka hits play again, and the music kicks on, something bright and upbeat nobody in the room recognizes immediately. 

Akio rolls his neck, gets a grin on his face, and takes off across the mat, tensing at the last half-second before he seems to jump and fold forwards at once, backflipping once, twice, before he spins in the air and lands with his feet in perfect position, arms up - then he winks at the camera and rocks his hips, and Mari, Will, and Brooke all let out a sound somewhere between a gasp and laughter.

“Good God, that boy just had fun with his pelvis,” Mari says, mock-scandalized.

“Watch, just, just watch-” Becka waves her hand again and the group watches Nakamura dance across the mat, matching the rhythm of the song exactly, dropping into a split and then back up again like gravity is something he can simply turn off whenever he wants. He folds himself over backwards and walks on his hands before he’s back up on his feet, with a quick spin and another hip-rock, backing his way into the marked-off spot in the corner. There’s another running set of flips and jumps and Will is watching, and it’s crazy as hell, sure, but his eyes keep getting drawn to that boy in the corner.

Wearing the same leotard, the boy is dancing along with Nakamura, matching all his in-between-moves perfectly, a bright, shining smile on his face, clapping every time Nakamura nails a flip or a jump, edging his slow way up to just at the other corner on that side.

“Hey,” Ben says, but his voice is too quiet, and the drums are louder suddenly, like someone just turned the speakers up. Will hears him, though, and looks over to see Ben making the exact face as what Will is feeling.

Except…

Ben swallows so hard Will can see his Adam’s apple move.

“All right, so in this one, one of the kids I used to train with, Tristan Higgs, and I had kind of planned out a bit at the end - okay, watch Tristan right… about… now.”

Nakamura lands a jump, moves into a dance, and the redhead runs up onto the mat, takes his own position with his arms up, and shoots Nakamura a brilliant smile before he takes off himself. He’s short, and heavily muscled, but that smile is unmistakable.

While the redhead runs, Nakamura dances to the side, watching him with a grin.

“What the fuck?” Ben says from the corner, slamming his book shut and standing up, walking closer to watch the screen. “Do you guys-... do you see that?”

“They can’t do this in competition,” Becka says, misunderstanding the sudden silence to be awe, confusion at the routine itself. “It’s too dangerous. But nothing happens, they just have fun.”

The redhead does three backflips and then spins, hits his landing perfectly - the team throws up a deafening cheer - and he launches into the dance right as Nakamura is back in position for his next run. 

They move around each other fluidly, for a while dancing nearly together. The group watches them move back to back, the redhead’s hair flashing coppery in the gym’s lights as he briefly drops it back onto Nakamura’s shoulder before spinning away, the team cheering them on and singing along with the song.

Ben’s eyes meet Laken’s. “Do you-... do you see-”

Laken looks away, shifting around, staring back down at the poster they’re working on alone now. “Yeah,” They say, voice slightly husky. “I see it.”

“But-”

“Let it go, Ben.”

“Laken, that’s Chris.”

“Holy shitballs,” Will says, “You’re right. It is Chris. Becka, fucking-... fucking pause next time they get his face on screen.”

“No worries, they’re almost done.” Becka blinks, puzzled, and the group watches Nakamura and the other boy do simultaneous flips across opposite sides of the mat, finish with a spin, and salute each other, before collapsing into laughter. “Does Chris do gymnastics?”

“No,” Laken says, before Ben can answer. He glances over at them and they shake their head, minutely, barely a motion.

The redhead starts to jump up and down, his hands flapping in the air, spinning in circles, as Nakamura laughs and runs over to him, saying something. The two high-five and hug before the redhead starts bouncing up and down again, clearly proud of himself, proud of Nakamura, just fucking thrilled.

“Laken-”

“I said let it go,” Laken snaps, and Ben’s mouth snaps shut.

Mari says, hesitantly, “Chris never said he did gymnastics.”

“Chris’s name isn’t Tristan fucking Higgs, either,” Will points out.

On the video, Nakamura’s voice is back. “We used to do that all the time. I’ve got about three more I’ll probably post. For the longest time I couldn’t even look at them, but… I don’t know. He was so fun. Rest in peace, man. We still miss you.”

“That can’t be him,” Will says, pulling his legs off of Mari’s lap and leaning over. Becka pauses with the screen stuck on the jumping, happy teenager, his hands blurred mid-motion. “That can’t be. Chris isn’t named Tristan.”

“He’s also not fucking dead,” Mari says, breathless. “But-”

“But it looks just like him, he even does the, the thing with his…” Will hesitantly flaps his hands by example. “When he’s happy. Just like that.”

“His hair’s red at the roots, too,” Brooke says, a little thoughtfully, nervously. “Um. Chris is adopted, right? Maybe…”

“Nobody changes a fucking teenager’s first name,” Will says, shaking his head. “I’ve met his brother, he wouldn’t do that. He’s like a giant teddy bear person. If Chris wanted the fucking Ritz that guy’d try and buy it for im. But, like, what do we know about Chris?”

“Not much,” Ben says, staring at the screen, stomach flipping. Ben knows more than anyone but Laken, thanks to Dylan being a fucking piece of shit about the pet thing. And he knows, he thinks, what he’s looking at now. “But-”

“I’m done with this,” Laken says abruptly, pushing themself to their feet. “You guys keep playing fucking detectives all you want, but that’s not Chris. I’m out.”

The group stares after them as they leave, and there’s a long, long moment of silence that draws awkwardly out, everyone trying to see if someone else will be the first person to speak next. 

“Um, I’m-... I’m gonna go talk to them,” Ben says, grabbing his book on the way out, catching Laken just outside the elevators. “Hey, wait-”

“No,” Laken says, hands in their pockets, jammed in there like they’re trying not to choke someone. “Go back in there, Ben.”

“That is Chris,” Ben says, soft and insistent. “That’s him before they-... before he was-”

Laken doesn’t answer him. Their jaw sets, and the black eyeliner seems to make them look flintier, hardened. “We don’t know that.”

“Yeah, Laken, we absolutely do. You telling me that smile isn’t one hundred percent your boyfriend’s smile? You going to tell me there’s some other identical fucking redhead who stims like that when he’s happy who was at a gym literally across town, whose friends from then think he’s fucking dead, and it’s not your fucking boyfriend, who was oh just coincidentally a pet for some rich asshole-”

“Don’t say it,” Laken snaps. “Don’t you fucking dare say it.”

“We should show him the video, Laken.”

“No.”

“What if it-... what if it helps-”

“What if it doesn’t?” The elevator dings and the doors open. Laken pushes away from Ben and steps inside, turning to stare at him, their expression baleful and oddly vulnerable, both at once. “What if it just makes shit worse for him? He’s-... he already has these nightmares… Don’t you think Chris has had a hard enough fucking time without us throwing that shit in his face, Ben? His past doesn’t belong to us.”

“Show his brother, then,” Ben says, and Laken looks away from him as the doors start to roll closed. “Show his brother, okay? Please? Promise you will, it might help Chris to see-”

Laken doesn’t look back up. The doors cut them off from view and Ben watches the floor count tick down as it moves, before he turns and goes back to his room, flopping bonelessly on the bed.

“God damn it.” 

That was definitely Christopher fucking Stanton in that video.

Wasn’t it?

Ben pulls his phone up, lying on his back, and types into the search bar, Tristan Higgs gymnast. Some old scores and meets come up, but no pictures. Nothing he can use. Then he deletes that search and types instead, Tristan Higgs death.

What pops up first is an old news article from fucking years ago about some kind of double-homicide after a break-in. Ben reads it, staring at the words, but something like dread slowly closes its claws over his heart.

The sole survivor of the attack was the couple’s fifteen-year-old son, Tristan, who has been placed in the care of relatives while law enforcement follows a series of tips…

Ben finds a Facebook page for the gym that was in the Nakamura video. Now that he’s started, he can’t stop. They have an Instagram, and he scrolls and scrolls and scrolls and scrolls. He must sit there for a goddamn hour looking at fucking gymnastics bullshit he doesn’t care about. But then he finds it-

Throwback Thursday: the whole crew has pizza at Vanni’s Pizzeria after a great meet back in 20XX!

There he is, right there towards the front with Nakamura’s arm around his shoulders, shorter and significantly more muscular, with a bit of red hair flopping over one eye.

Christopher fucking Stanton, smiling at something just to the left of the camera, just like Chris always does.

He screenshots the photo and sends it to Laken. They send back, pretty sure I told you to go fuck yourself Benji.

Ben waits. Thirty-five seconds after that, Laken sends another text.

Okay. I’ll show Jake.

Ben tells himself to close the apps. That he has reading to do, and other things to care about. Then he spends the next five hours learning everything he can about Tristan Higgs, anyway.

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary @orchidscript

[charmed-asylum]

𝒩ℴ𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃ℊ ℰ𝓁𝓈ℯ ℳ𝒶𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇

𝒩ℴ𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃ℊ ℰ𝓁𝓈ℯ ℳ𝒶𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇 , Chapter 1

Summary: Rosary Woods used to spend her summers in Hawkins. Now years later with untimely death of her father, she sent to live with her grandparents. Coming back to a place that use to give her pleasant memories but now full with dark secrets she hopes never see daylight. Her plan was simple easy till one night she finds a drunk boy full of curls and after life never the same.

FYI: This is my 1st fanfic. I do have dyslexia so if something wrong let me know. If you like it let me know same if you don’t. #Foodie be out this week too. ** Side note I’m looking for some talent ** tag list open

𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐿𝒾𝓈𝓉

Tagged: @alagalaska @nottherightseason @alias-b @screensirenfic @linkispink1995 @staticscreenwriting

How the hell did all this happened. How the FUCK this happen. How did I end up alone on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere? Cold as hell with a runny nose from my tears and sharp pain of betrayal. I know now. It all started a couple of months ago. When I was tossed into this hickory town. Where one night find a stupid blue eyes boy drunk out his mind. With your stupid Mother, Mary's attitude had to help him. Now that drunk piece of shit made you fall for him to drop kick you in a small amount of a few months.

My brown eyes fill with glittery tears, tried to think back on every step that lead me here what was it? What did I do wrong? What I would do to go back to that night in October. Go back to that day I met that boy that came out of nowhere and changed my life

🍂🍂🍂

The fall air left a warm scent as I walk out the greyhound in my short denim overalls with a plain white short-sleeved shirt and black and white converses with black laces. My long midnight black wavy hair dancing with the wind with my red heart shades on, taking my around at my surroundings. Even though I have been here many times, this was the first time I came that wasn’t summer visits.

Those had an arrival and departure two way this time though was a one way. It was a lot different than home, Florida. It’s always sunny and things to do unlike here. Flipping my cassette player back on I walk over to the rusted metal benches and wait for my ride. I didn’t want to be here. However, when you have no other choice what can you do. My life stuffed in my dad's old beat-up army bag. I lend back hoping this was a dream and I wake up home with my dad not here. I didn’t hate here I just hate why I’m here. The two-day bus rides a dread and didn't help. Still, I’m stuck with nothing to do but cruise under the radar till graduation. Toss the cap in the air and by the time it's back in my hands I have another ticket to somewhere else.

I gentle tap took me out from my inner monologue into reality. An older woman in her 60s with short curly golden frost hair bright red lipstick that got bit on her front tooth in a flower print long dress. In all, she was the fifth unseen golden girl or what I know her as grams.

“‘HELLO ROSARY. You hear me call for you over there by the car” Grams shouts into my ear. Looking up at her I smile and move my bag out the way to hug her tight.

“ Sorry, the meds got me all out of it. Hi, grams it good to see you” I said holding onto the strap of my bag. She gave me a nod and kiss my cheek leaving an imprint.

“ Oh shut I forgot. Sorry, we couldn’t get your flights no airport close by. Sweetie. Grab your bag we can go home” Grams says walking and talking to the car. Tucking my shades in my pocket I follow her music still playing in my ears.

“ Where Papa at,” I asked looking out the window.

“ Oh, he at the diner checking on things. But he will be back by dinner. I sign you up for school. You start tomorrow. Your car will be ship here in two weeks so the bus to school till then” Grams said pulling up to the house. “ Look, honey. I know things have been hard the last few months but coming here can be your fresh start. So it’s up to you what you do. Stay sane try to be different better you dear” Grams said getting out of the car. Simply put it don’t fuck up this time.

“ Yes. Ma’am. I’m gonna the perfect granddaughter” I said with a eat shit grin.

“Don’t do that it’s tacky. I did not mean what I said that way sweetie. Huh lord, I need my soaps. Drop your stuff in your room” Grams said walking into the house.

My room more like a guest room. They tried though I give them that the last time I been here was years ago when I was 11. Then after that was with my dad across seas. By then the damage was done. Walls were eggshell white with a few pictures of me by dad and them that set on the wall by the window. The bed was against the wall with a small glass nightstand with a trunk in front. Probably the same one my dad had when he was my age. The small closet across the bed and an old oakwood dresser. This will do I’m sure in no time she can make it homie. I push my hand on the bed testing out the string a bit. This is my life now. Better just get used to it. Anger bubble deep in my chest as it slowly starts to hit me. This is a life I don't want. I wanted the life I had before one that was far from perfect but he was there. I toss my bag beside me with a bit of force and scream into my hands.

It took no time till I was done. I change up the pictures and some more on my dresser. A few things on the nightstand then to top it off my mint condition organized record collection in a purple crat that sat beside my dad's 1960s Gibson Hummingbird Fixed Bridge acoustic guitar.

“ So you all done. It’s not much but we go somewhere someday. Sorry, papa wasn’t here. After Benny passed away our place been the hot spot. Back to the glory days, he says” Grams said with a chuckle. I sat down beside her legs cross under me and started to flip through Good Housekeeping

“ So Benny no more. Anything else happens since I have been here last” I asked getting comfortable.

“Let's see. That Will kid you babysit a few times went miss for a week or so. Last year. And that’s about it. I don’t pay much attention to those things. Papa and I are going to bible study tonight. I know you not up to it this week. So you don’t have to go but I am looking forward to next week” Grams said. I ruffled my hand into my deep chocolate hair and nod yes.

“ I would love that. Thank you. That reminds me. I have to fill up on my pain killers. If it’s not much to ask can you please take me one day this week? Or may I go into town myself” I asked taking out my pill bottle?

Still, months later the pain reminds the same. Even the memories still were in tack as if it happened minutes ago. A tear rolled down my face just reliving it. Grams hold me tight smoothing me and rubbing my back as I let out a heavy cry. My dainty finger claw into her shoulder blade as tight as possible. I didn’t hate that I was here I just hate the why.

🌙🌙🌙

DADDY!!” I shout out. My body was soaked with a cold sweat and tears still running down my cheeks. Too weak to even move, I bend over cup my hands into my face, and scream.

Always the nightmares. Always the same two each night. Back home I would find a party or smoke or wave to ride but here. NOTHING. I promise a new me I remind myself. One that is not set to explode any second. One that took all their demons and bury it in the deepest hole. This me doesn’t let them loose but keep them hidden tight. That won’t break and burn everything she touches. This me be gentle, kind, and read the Bible instead of throwing my fist. I promise my father that even my estranged grandparents will be better.

After a good pity party, I decided to stay wasn’t gonna help me. I needed to out. I toss on some navy blue gym shorts pull down my Scooby-Doo t-shirt, which was getting a little bit smaller than last time I warn it years ago, decided for a walk.

Grams and Papa came back from church just after 11. Just missing the kids trick or treating. I stay back gave an empty smile say hello few folks who came by or heard over the rumor mill I was back. None who I really care about. The clock blink, 3:00. The cool breeze comforts me like a blanket over my shoulders. Music played close to mute. I thought about it all. If he at peace would I see him again. Could I make it to June in this town?

Far ahead of me on my way back, I saw a figure laying on the crisp grass. After the stories, Grams told me I wonder if it was anything important. As I got closer I saw an outline of a person. I stop and slow my walking this time with caution. Till I was right beside him. He was rocking back and forth humming some song no shirt tight-ass pants and hair messy with no shoes. This boy diffidently was fucking or having a good time. Part of me envies him and that freedom. Another knew it was because even if I don’t say it out loud he beautiful mess. Totally my type and that what it got tricky he was a reminder of the past I was hoping to leave behind. Flipping my hair out my face I got down to eye level and gently touch him.

“ Hey Hey you alright, “ I asked shaking him a bit.

He looks up and grins at me with a sleepy doozy grin. His eyes sparkle in the night sky and for a second I forgot he was drunk. My stomach did this thing I only ever felt a few times before. Back when I was happy. I shook my head and look around for help or at less to see if he drove or had friends. No luck. Part of me thought it be best to leave but then I saw it. Right below his eyes the old bruise and cuts. My jaw tightened till it clicks.

“ Mommy. Mommy” he said touching my face. I felt the cold touch of his ring against my lips. I tap it to the side and wrap his arm around me to get him up. Praying to God he, not a psycho, or I will regret this. He started to kiss my neck all while calling me mommy. Kinky mother fucker

“ Yeah Hot Wheels, not your mommy come on almost there,” I said helping him back home. He giggles and tried to be a handy hand reaching my hip and butt.

“ Holy shit your you are your a doll baby” he slurred into my ear.

Praying any god’s that my grandparents don’t wake up to him almost knocking everything down. I put my hand to his mouth and a finger to mine so he shut up. On the first day of this new me, I’m playing babysitting to a drunk man child. With ease, I toss him on my bed. He cuddles with one of my pillows squeezing my old grumpy carebear and drifts to sleep. I waited a second before I went and made my own special hangover shake and a bucket for the morning. Taking more time time to clean his face a bit and hand as gentle as I could. Time blink at 3:58, I sat on the floor against my dresser and watch him sleep. Wondering if a boy like that had nightmares too.

I woke up two hours later. Still on the floor face left with a carpet imprint. The boy from this morning now turns over to the other side against the wall sound asleep. I got up from my spot on wobbly legs grab some things and head to the bathroom.

As the cold water hit my face I kept thinking about before till the face of baby blue came into mine. His eyes look like way mine when I look into the mirror and it puzzles me. Never have I found someone else that had the same eyes as mine. Apart from me wonder what was behind those eyes. I shack it off as I dry my hair. If the boy's eyes look like mine then that means on things, his demons were just as bad. I change into tacky stuck in time uniform and walk back deep in thoughts when I stop. The boy was gone. I rush out of my room almost tripping over my own foot, empty. Nothing change in my room just the note. It wasn’t till I sat and smell the faint scent of cologne and cigarettes. It wasn’t a dream he was real. I laugh at myself there no way I will be seeing him again.

🍂🍂🍂

He couldn’t remember much just that her face was half cover by her loose curly hair that shines against the streetlight. The innocent big brown eyes that went with a sugar-sweet smile. Even though she was nowhere close to his mom. He couldn’t help but think about her. He never saw someone that beautiful before. Holding on to her tight sniff her in, honey and vanilla. He wanted to stare at her as long as he could but as soon as he hit the twin size bed he was out.

“Fuck am I” he hissed holding his head trying to think what happened last night. Last he remembered was making out with some blonde at the Halloween party or was it sex. His eyes look at the cup and bucket. Brown eye. He slowly picks up the note and read it:

Sleepy Head, First off we did not have sex and no I don’t know you. What I can tell you is this you were drunk and laying on someone's lawn alone. I live on Church street and Maple Lane. If it’s before 6 and your reading this back door

He laughs at the note and put it back where he found it. It was still early Neil wouldn’t be awake if he left now. He thought maybe he leave a thank you but it decided against it. He promised himself no attachment just to graduate, save up, and leave. No room for nothing else. Before he left he heard noises from the bathroom. Sound like a peaceful lullaby. Inching close he peaks in to see a figure from behind the curtain. Shaking his head he slips out and all his Mary way her black and white Adidas flip flops whistling her lullaby.

[justahopelessssromantic]

Thinking Out Loud

Ok so I just of something. Maybe a imagine or something based one of the song "Shape of You", "Perfect" or "Thinking Out Loud" by Ed Sheeran with Angel pretty please 🥰😏💜💕 @gemini0410

A/N: Happy Birthday Babe! Or at least it’s still your birthday here lol. I meant to get this posted earlier in the day but that didn’t exactly happen 🤷‍♀️ Anyways I hope you have/ had an amazingly beautiful day ❤️ Thank you so much for the request 🥰 I hope you enjoy. I actually took inspiration from both Perfect and Thinking Out Loud for this one💖

*gif not mine*

Warnings: Lots of Fluff 🥺

Angel had his arm wrapped around you as you sat on the swing of your back porch enjoying the cool, crisp air of the night. The crickets chirping along with the faint music from your Bluetooth speaker were the only sounds occupying the night as you enjoyed the company of one another.

It was a lovely Friday night, the two of you having the house to yourselves as your teens were having a sleepover at a friend's. It was crazy how fast time flew by but you wouldn't have asked for anyone else to share it with. Your life with Angel wasn't perfect but it was filled with love and that's really all you could ask for.

The speaker began playing the next song quietly and you both perked up your ears, smiling at the other in the realization that it was your song. Standing up he extended his hand out to you. "May I have this dance, amor?"

You smiled looking into his eyes as you took his hand in yours and he led you out into the yard. Your song played quietly behind you filling you with fond memories. Wrapping his arm around your waist with your hand in his the two of you began swaying to the soft music. He spun you around a few times before bringing you back and pulling you close.

Angel smiled down at you thinking how lucky he was to have found a love for him in you. “You know,” he murmured softly to you as you swayed, “People fall in love in mysterious ways, maybe just a touch of the hand.” He brought your connected hands ’up to his lips, placing a sweet kiss to the back of yours. “Me, I fall in love with you every single day.“ He continued reminiscing on your love, “I never knew you were the someone waiting for me. We were just kids when we fell in love, I never thought I’d get the chance to marry my best friend.” He continued twirling you once more grinning because of how your dress flowed around you just like that day. “Who knew we’d find love right where we were.”

You giggled coming back together snuggling against his chest. “What are you doing?” You asked.

“Just thinking out loud.” He smirked holding you close.

You recalled the day as well both smiling fondly at the memory. “I’m pretty sure I kicked your ass that day.” You teased grinning up at him and making his heart melt.

“Yeah, you did, but only because I let you.” He chuckled. Really you took his breath away that night, running off with his heart forever. Angel let you because as long as his heart was in your hands he knew he’d be alright. “If I remember correctly we made it to third base that night,” He smirked, flashing you a wink.

You gasped, playfully smacking his chest and letting your hand rest there upon his beating heart, “You barely made it past first.” You teased back.

“Yeah?” He asked, raising his eyebrow, “and how’s the game going to go tonight? We gonna make it all the way home, mi amor?” He wiggled his eyebrows earning another playful smack to the chest.

You rolled your eyes at him before bringing your hand to rest on the side of his face. You looked into each other’s eyes seeing those two kids together under the stars as clearly as if it was yesterday. That day was the beginning of your future together, a day you’d cherish forever.

Angel sat in the back of the large banquet hall picking at his food as he stared across the room where his Mom, Pops, and little brother were sitting at a table talking to potential college scouts who had attended the championship game that night. They had taken a liking to his brother, impressed that he was only a sophomore imagining the potential he had to grow the next few years.

Angel hated this, hated how everyone practically fell to his younger brother's feet. For Angel it seemed like EZ had everything, he was the golden boy after all, but at least he didn't have you.

No you were all Angel's. You had been best friends for years now and he didn't know what he'd do if he didn't have you by his side. No he did know what he'd do, he'd drown and fade into the background. He'd be lost without you.

You scrunched up your nose poking at the tuna salad which seemed far too warm, "Yeah I'm not eating this." You said pushing the plate back on the table. These sort of events were never your thing but you had gone to the game to support EZ, well more like to support Angel and had tagged along to keep him company. You knew how hard these things were for him, especially since if he had just had a little more support, someone more in his corner it could have been him sitting there talking to the scouts, planning a bright future for himself.

But he didn't so he was hidden in the back of the room filling up with jealousy. Everything just reminded him of that exact fact.

"You okay?" You asked twisting on the bench to face him more as you brought a leg up.

"Yeah, fine." He grumbled through gritted teeth still staring ahead at his family.

"There's no use in lying to me Reyes, you know that." You said, setting your hand comfortingly on his thigh, "Come on, how about we get out of here?"

He thought it over in his mind a moment. He should stay, that's what was expected of him, but it's not like his family would even notice if he disappeared. "Yeah," he agreed nodding his head as he turned to you, "They won't fucking miss me anyways."

You swung your leg over the bench standing up with Angel behind you. He stole one last glance back, hoping maybe someone in his family would notice but they didn't. Shaking his head in disappointment he turned back to you and followed you out the door without a second thought.

You walked down the middle of the street looking up to get a view of the big dark sky full of thousands of sparkling stars as you did so. It was your favorite sight in the world, you'd get lost in it if you didn't have Angel to pull you back.

"Damn it, querida." Angel said grabbing your arm and stopping you just before you ran into someone's parked vehicle. "What have I told you about that?" He chuckled, "You're uncoordinated enough as is why do you always think you can walk while looking up like an idiot."

"Because I have you to watch out for me," you teased realigning yourself with the street and continuing down your path.

"Where the fuck are we even going?" He asked trailing behind you. He wasn't in the mood for much of anything and his lack of motivation in his steps showed.

"It's a surprise." You called back to him, eyes focused on the road in front of you, "Now come on Ignacio, put a little pep in your step. Your legs are long as shit. You have no excuse for slacking behind me.

He rolled his eyes but did as was told anyways catching up beside you. You smirked, still refusing to look at him. He watched your face grinning himself. For him you were the view he'd never get tired of, but he'd never tell you that. He didn't want to spoil what the two of you had. You were too important to him. He'd rather suffer by pining for you forever than lose you as his best friend.

"We're here," you sang as you reached your destination while he was distracted by his thoughts.

Angel looked away from you and at the large baseball field before him. "What the fuck are we doing here?" Why the hell would you think this was a good idea?

"I want to play a game," you said matter of factly leaving him behind as you walked up to the gate. It was closed by a chain and lock but you were able to pry it apart just enough for you to squeeze through and into the field.

"What the hell is going on?" Angel muttered to himself as he watched you. This was very out of character for you. You were the smart sensible one, he the reckless one, that's how your friendship worked. That balance is what worked, was needed and here you were flipping everything upside down on him. He let out a sigh before following you and slipping in behind you. "You know we're gonna be in deep shit if we get caught." He reminded you hoping he could maybe talk some sense into you.

"Well that's not going to be a problem," you smiled sweetly, "cause we aren't going to get caught."

Keeping on your mission you walked further in. Angel jogged up beside you to catch up with you once more. “Okay, so please tell me how the fuck we are going to play a game with no equipment?”

“We will have equipment. You just need to be more patient.” you chided. Angel was a lot of things, but patient was not one of them. In all those years by his side you learned that pretty quickly.

“I am patient,” he grumbled under his breath crossing his arms. Rounding the corner you came face to face with the shed where the team stored most of their equipment. Angel looked at the building and then back to you still grinning like an idiot putting the two together. “No,” he scolded you, “I don’t like being this guy but you put me in this fucking position.” You pouted immediately at his words hoping to sway him to your side. “Don’t give me that look. This is on you, querida. I’m the one who is supposed to be pouting because you told me no not the other way around.”

You sighed looking down at your feet and wiggling your toes in the gold sandals you were wearing, “Fine you’re right.” You muttered looking back up at him. You turned taking one more look at the shed before twisting around and walking away from it. “You couldn’t even get it unlocked anyways.” You said with your back to him. You smiled to yourself knowing he wouldn’t be able to resist the challenge.

Angel let out a long sigh before mouthing “fuck” to himself before he called out to you walking away from him. “Fine, you win. I’ll do it.”

It wasn’t long before Angel had jimmied the lock opening the shed up for the two of you to peruse. You ran your hands all along the bats causing them to clatter together as you walked past. Angel was on the other side testing out some mitts before he found one that satisfied him. He then dug through the box next to them pulling out a baseball cap. Holding it behind his back he swayed over to you. “I got something for you.”

You turned around his words stealing your attention. “Really? What is it?”

Angel grinned bringing it around and setting it on top of your head. You smiled adjusting the cap to fit on your head better. “Thank you. How do I look?”

Perfect he thought but kept that to himself. “You look alright. Red’s a good color on you.”

“Well you better get yours and I’ll meet you out there.” You instructed him before slipping a wooden bat off the rack they were being held on and heading out the door and to the field.

Angel caught up once more just as you were slipping your sandals off and tossing them to the side. “You sure playing baseball in a dress is such a good idea?” You looked beautiful in the flowy dress you had on, the hem just hitting above your knees with the body hugging your features perfectly. “I’m already at an advantage, seems a little unfair.”

“Haha.” You mock laughed. “I can kick your ass just as good in a dress as anything else. Just try not to get too distracted.” You taunted him.

If only you knew how impossible that was for him when you were around.

“Alright you’re pitching.” You said stepping up to the plate with your bat in hand, swinging it around.

Angel rolled his eyes at you. You looked ridiculous, but he decided not to say anything. He walked over to the mound readying himself to pitch. He wasn’t going to go crazy on you or anything. He was an amazing pitcher with a killer arm, he knew that and so did you. You’d watched him help EZ practice many times and would always feel a tinge of sadness by the potential he had but just wasn’t able to use.

“You ready?” He called out.

“Yep!” You leaned forward sticking your butt out a little waiting for the pitch.

Angel watched and was about to throw the ball before he shook his head. “Fuck, no that’s all wrong.” He said walking towards you as you gave him a puzzled look, “If we’re gonna play then we have got to fix all this.” He said motioning to your stance.

“What?” You asked, “what’s wrong with the way I’m standing. I’m just doing it like everyone else.”

He chuckled. “I don’t know who you’ve been watching babe but that is not what everyone else does.” He slipped the mitt off his hand and tossed it into the grass beside him before coming up behind you. “Here,” he said, reaching around and taking hold of your hands. You could have sworn you felt some jolt of electricity at the touch and your heart began racing being flooded by all sorts of new feelings. He moved your hands along the bat adjusting your hold on the smooth wood. Next he moved his hands down adjusting your hips, his warmth radiating through your clothes and making your face feel flushed. Bringing his hands back up to hold the bat over yours once more he began showing you how to swing properly. You gulped, you could feel his body pressed against yours, his breath brushing softly across the nape of your neck sending chills all down your spine.

Your hands were clammy as you began to panic internally. Shit you were falling for your best friend. You couldn’t think of anything in that moment that could have possibly been worse than that.

“There just like that,” he murmured, his deep voice in your ear doing nothing to help your new predicament.

He felt it too, the rush of being so close to you, the urge to spin you around and kiss you as if he couldn’t breathe and you were the only thing that could provide him with oxygen, with life. You were so close and he never wanted to let go.

But he did, and the intense moment was gone just as quickly as it had happened leaving you both disappointed and wanting more. However neither one of you wanted to push it, unsure of the other’s feelings.

He swallowed, his throat was dry and scratchy as he stepped beside you. “Alright, ready?”

All you could manage was a small smile and a nod. Nodding in acknowledgment Angel went back to the mound. The first ten or so pitches you missed and Angel would give you tips and pointers. You were beginning to get a little frustrated.

“You got this,” he called out to you before pitching another your way.

You were more determined this time in your swing and your heart practically lept in your chest by the cracking sound of the ball colliding with the bat. Your smile was enormous as you squealed and jumped up and down. “I did it!”

Angel laughed as he watched you. He was just as excited and happy as you if not more. “Yeah, but now you gotta run.” He called out.

You laughed before tossing the bat to the ground and making your way to first with ease. By now Angel had the ball and was ready to tag you, blocking your path to second. You stood there in the stand off a moment before you decided to make a break for it and ran out into the field.

“Where the hell are you going?” He called out laughing.

“To second,” you called back, turning around to face him and practically taunting him to come get you.

He shook his head before heading your way. The two of you ran around laughing as you dodged his attempts to get you, just feeling young and free, enjoying your time together.

You were now on the other side of the field the bases a good distance away from you. Angel was blocking your path once again. You tried to fake him out by going left and then darting right but his reflexes were too fast. He quickly reached out and grabbed you by the waist pulling you close as you both laughed. You were now breathless as the laughter died down and you realized just how close you were again. Angel’s hands were holding you in place by your hips and yours were now on his chest from trying to break free. You stared into each other’s eyes for what felt like forever. It was in this moment that Angel could see a future in your eyes, his future all laid out before him.

You were so close to him and with the rush of emotions and longing for you he got caught up in the moment. Leaning down he brought his face closer to yours and you his. The pull was magnetic as you gravitated towards each other, getting so close your lips were just barely touching when the cold shock hit you causing you to scream out.

You pulled back laughing once more as you were now both completely drenched, the sprinklers soaking the field around you. Angel grabbed your hand pulling you off and away to the side of the field where you were protected from the cold water. The grass stuck to your legs and feet as you wiped it off. After you looked down at your now drenched dress practically dripping. “Damnit,” you said, taking your appearance in,“I look like a fucking mess.”

Angel watched you taking in every detail of you as he had so many times. You looked anything but and without thinking he was whispering under his breath, “you look perfect, tonight.”

You were brushing off more grass when you heard him, just barely above the sound of the spraying sprinklers around you. You could have sworn your heart stopped for a moment and you looked up at him smiling.

His eyes grew wide realizing what he had said. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked down suddenly feeling very warm under your gaze. He tried to think of something to say, to muster up some sort of excuse to cover his ass. He fucked up and he was terrified of what you’d say next.

You didn’t say anything. Instead you just closed the gap between the two of you and took him into your arms. It was time one of you decided to throw caution to the wind and take charge. He wrapped his arms around you following your lead, his heart beating out of his chest. You smiled at him and the next thing he knew you were tangled up into the best kiss of his life, kissing under the light of a thousand stars.

The two of you would remember that day forever.

You held each other close dancing in your yard. You lived for these moments with your husband. Of course you loved your kids more than anything but that just made these peaceful moments when you were alone together just that much sweeter.

You reached up and he leaned down to meet you halfway pulling you in for a tender kiss. Each kiss was just as good as the last with you. He could drown in you. You sighed into the kiss relaxing against his body. Holding you close he pulled back and looked into your eyes getting lost in them. For him they held his past, present, and future. They held his heart, you held his heart, and there was no one he’d rather entrust it with.

He may have been Angel but you were his angel and you were perfect. He couldn’t understand how he had gotten so lucky but he would be damned if he did anything to jeopardize the life you had built together.

Angel rested his forehead against yours. Taking in your scent he breathed out into the cool night air. “I don’t deserve this. You look perfect, tonight.”

Everything Tag List: @jad3djay @fairygardenss @carlaangel86 @briannab1234 @starrynite7114 @agirllovespasta @howaboutash @gemini0410 @naytraydr @knowles-morgan @woahitslucyylu @everyhowlmarksthedead @ktiz90 @brothersofmayhem

[stevenismyboy]

The Haunted Arcade.

a/n: Maybe I shouldn't start another au when I haven't finished the first one... but the temptation was too strong! I am very happy with how it turned out and that I managed to move my favorite cartoon to the  Stranger Things world. I’ve also made teenagers here not too fond of each other, but without exaggeration, just for the sake of history. Feel free to write me if you liked it and who do you think is a specific member of the Mystery Inc.!

summary: Scooby-Doo au!- When an arcade in Hawkins is attacked by a ghost in a mask, nobody believes and wants to help the terrified Y/N. No one except Steve 'The Hair' Harrington, smart Robin, photographer Jonathan and beautiful Nancy. They definitely know something about monsters. You can find my Masterlist here.

-

Fridays were crazy. No matter how much time was left to close the arcade-it could be twenty, ten or even five minutes-and people still wouldn't want to go home. They pressed the buttons on the slot machines with incredible speed, unable to stop until they had a score that would satisfy them.

So yes, Fridays have been crazy. The gaming room was so overcrowded that the kids waited in line to play their favorite game. Working there was pretty funny. Looking at kids who were running through the room like puppies always made you happy. On Fridays, children were not so happy though because big, rude and older teenagers occupied their favourite play area.

On that cool, spooky evening, when the wind outside made terrible sounds, the room was full of people until the very end. Steve Harrington came as every week with Robin Buckley. They were standing by the Dig Dug, which Dustin Henderson was looking forward to. Nancy Wheeler came in with her boyfriend, Jonathan Byers. She was completely unable to handle Pac Man. She had been coming here for a while and Jonathan patiently tried to teach her. Their brothers, Will and Mike were trying to hide their laughter.

You looked at the watch over your head, watching as the blue hand was dangerously close to 11:00 p.m. Five... four... three... two... one... game over.

“I'm very sorry, but we're closing for today!” you shouted, clapping your hands. The music stopped playing. Keith turned on the regular lights instead of the colored ones, which kept the room in dark glow. Everyone moaned loudly, not wanting to leave yet. “I'm really sorry, but you're all welcome tomorrow! Let's give our hands and eyes a rest for today and be ready to play next time, am I right?”

“Son of a bitch. I didn't get to play the Dig Dug” Claudia Henderson's kid walked out without saying goodbye. You laughed quietly, holding the glass door for outgoing customers. “She beat me again. I feel like loser” Lucas Sinclair pointed out his red-haired, proud girlfriend.

“It'll be better next time. If you're gonna practice!” you yelled after him. “We both know he'll never be able to beat my record” Max snapped. “I wanted to be nice” you said so quietly that only she would hear you. She laughed and gived you a high five. The crowd was going out, talking to each other. Steve tried to squeeze ahead to catch up with Dustin, but he stayed to finally accompany Robin.

“Good night, Y/N. I'll see you tomorrow, I hope?” Steve asked, going to the exit. His dark eyes were shining in a sharp light. He was always nice when he came and paid for the tickets for himself and his friend. They've been coming here regularly since Dustin brought them here. Always in his company.

“Could you make sure that Henderson gets to Dig Dug first tomorrow? That big boy didn't even let him play once” Robin stabbed Steve hard in the back with her index finger. “I'll do my best. But you know the rule, Buckley. A favor for the tip”. “How could I forget. See you tomorrow!” the girl smiled. Will Byers sneaked under your shoulder, running out with Mike so fast that the door almost slammed in your face. “Sorry. Sometimes they can be too excited” Jonathan smiled shyly. Nancy was trying to put a coat next to the door, then they both went outside, where it was completely dark. The lights of the lanterns highlighted the wet asphalt. It rained for a good two hours, the air was crisp and fresh.

“You're sure you can handle it yourself? I can wait until you close the place” Keith crushed a pack of cheese crisps in his hands. The crumbs fell on the carpet you're about to clean. That's what working with Keith was like. He wanted to help when he was just making things worse. You sent him a forced smile, shaking your head. “I'll be fine. I'm gonna do some cleaning and I'll walk home. I'm a big girl”.

“Brave enough of you. I'd be scared if I were you. Hawkins is not safe... especially at night” Keith muttered, closing the glass door behind him. His words made you shiver. He didn't say anything unusual, but... but maybe if it was a little brighter outside, you wouldn't have to be afraid that coming home alone might not end well. Just in case you turned the key in the lock to make yourself feel safer.

You grabbed a broom to clean the floor from crips, popcorn and cookies. In normal light you could see the dried spots of spilled coke in some places. Keith unnecessarily scared you. You're alone, but you're safe. Just turn the key on the door so no one gets in and-

Something sneaked in between the slot machines. Someone's shadow, too fast to look at it or recognize the shape. You stopped sweeping so that the broomstick wouldn't drown out anything... or anyone else in the room.

“Hello? Is there someone here?” you asked loudly, swallowing your saliva too loud. The wind outside was trying to get in, it was bumping into the glass panes, shrieking too loud. There's no way anyone could stay inside. The kids repeatedly wanted to hide here to spend the night in their dream place, but they never succeeded. And again. Something went behind your back and you turned around so fast that your neck started hurting. Whoever was inside hit a row of vending machines with their shoulder now, and they started knocking terribly at each other. “Who's here? Come on... this is not funny at all!”

The lights went out. Well, actually, they only went out for a while to light up again. Someone was trying to change their color, so the whole rainbow was flickering before your eyes. “Keith, I swear to God, if this is just some stupid joke...” you let go of the broom, running to the counter to call somebody, anybody when the music started playing in the room. But not one you had on the tapes. A terrible rasp of the violin combined with a scream. You stumbled on the carpet and leaned your back against the counter, covering your ears with your hands. You clenched your eyelids tightly, trying not to scream. Your heart was pounding on your chest, and there was no one around to help you. The lights kept changing their colour, someone's loud steps were breaking through the music. For a moment... for one short moment you could swear that you felt someone's hot breath, heavy sigh on your neck. Your eyes started tearing.

And all of a sudden, everything went quiet. The lights stopped flickering, the music went off. It seemed like there was no one inside again, and the only sound you could hear was a whistle of wind. You put your hands on your knees, looking around for a few more minutes. And then you called the police.

-

“I don't know which way he came in. I was alone, and... I can swear I shut myself in to finish cleaning up. All the customers had already left and my coworker did it too like... half an hour ago”.

“I see” it was the only thing Hopper said after your statement. The notebook was trembling in his hand, he was holding a lit cigarette in the other. He dragged a lot of smoke inside his lungs, nodding his head at two officers coming out of the arcade. “You got anything, guys?”

“It looks like nothing's gone. There's no shortage of money in the cash register" said the first one. “Nothing's broken. No machine, the windows are all right too” said the other. “Some signs of a burglary? Footprints, broken lock on the door?Anything?” Hopper asked. They both turned their heads. Sheriff turned to you with a sigh. He rested his hands on his knees and leaned over to be about your height. 

“Listen. It's really late. I understand you might be tired. It happens. Sometimes I see my own grandmother when I'm sitting at the police station until two o'clock in the morning and I don't drink coffee, and it's just Flo who insists on watching over me and the boys all night. We'll take you home and forget about the case, okay?” “Forget it?” you asked in disbelief. The policeman blinked. A cigarette trembled in his mouth. “Someone was there! I didn't make it up! I know what the threat is to call the police for no reason. I wouldn't call if nothing had happened. And something definitely happened. Maybe it wasn't a burglary, maybe...”

“Maybe your coworker forgot his car keys, went back to the arcade, came through the back, took them and left. Could that be?” Hopper raised one eyebrow. The annoyance took in you like a wild wave. One more minute, and it'll flood you completely.

“I was scared. What if that someone comes back here again? Aren't you going to do anything about it?” “I would if I had the evidence. But I don't see them. I'm sorry, kid”. “Don't call me that” you clenched your teeth. “You won't even call my boss?” “I don't see a reason. We'll just scare him off. You need sleep and rest. Take the day off tomorrow. You'll sleep everything off and you'll see that you'll stop seeing ghosts”. “What about the lights?” you asked. Hopper stopped on the way to his van. He threw out a cigarette and trampled it with his shoe. His mind was definitely somewhere else. 

“I'll take care of it myself. I'm an electrician-slutter specialist" he opened the door to his police car. His two officers were already waiting in their own. “So what's it gonna be? Are you coming with us?”

“I still don't understand why you don't believe me, Hopper” you muttered, looking at the road. “For you, it's Chief Hopper, kid. Are you coming or not?” he opened the door wide. The inside smelled like coffee and cigarettes, but it looked a lot better than the prospect of walking all the way home alone. You got in without a word more, pressing your forehead against the glass. Day off. Sounds wonderful.

-

The boss didn't find out about anything. Nobody at home noticed that the sheriff of Hawkins Police picked you up after work and you had no one to tell about the adventure of yesterday. It was a necessity to go to work. Your heart was beating like crazy when you crossed the arcade. You were sick just of thinking you had to sit in the same place as yesterday, look at the same room... where you weren't alone last night.

Steve noticed immediately that something was wrong. When he saw you the other day, you were smiling at every customer, helping to start a game, or cleaning screens of unused machines. Today, you didn't even move. It's like you're glued to your chair. He looked at you with curiosity, waiting for any sign that there was nothing to worry about. For a smile, a head up, a joke aimed at the kids. Nothing.

“You'd come to work if you were sick?” he asked suddenly, biting a straw from his drink. “Of course not. I'm not suicidal” Robin snorted. She put her tongue out, in the corner of her mouth, as if it would improve her dexterity. She squinted her eyes at Donkey Kong's character. “Why?” “Y/N seems to be some kind of... absent” he shrugged his shoulder. “I don't like it.”

“I don't want to be mean, dingus, but you weren't optimistic when you came to work either”. “I know, but... I don't think that's the point. Something must have happened-” “Why don't you come up and ask her? I see you want to” his friend touched his arm. Steve put his hand on his hip and twisted his head after a moment of silence. “I doubt she likes to confide in random customers”. “You're unbelievable. You want to ask how she feels, you don't invite her on a date. Unless that's what you mean and that's why you're so nervous about it-” Robin wanted to say something more, but she didn't have a chance. Nancy and Jonathan were passing by and Steve's ex-girlfriend ran into his friend. A little bit of her orange juice landed on Robin's shirt. Steve took in the air with a swish.

“Oh, my God, I'm so sorry” Nancy put her hand in her mouth. She tried to look for the tissues in her purse to help. “Sometimes it can be so crowded here...”

“No worries. It was just my favorite shirt” Robin shrugged her shoulders. “She said she's sorry. You can wash it” Jonathan said. He probably didn't mean anything by it, but Steve involuntarily clenched his jaw. It's in the same way for a while now. Steve hold a grudge for Jonathan, so he's rude to him. Robin doesn't really like Nancy, so even if she's trying, sometimes her reluctance comes out. And they start arguing. He couldn't explain why it's happening every time when they bump into each other. Why he still can't leave his past behind and argue with someone who used to be the most important person in the world to him? He couldn't explain why it's happening. But it happened. More than once.

“You don't have to be nervous, man. Nobody wanted to say something bad” Steve replied calmly. “I doubt it. I don't know what else to do to stop Miss Buckley getting angry” Nancy tangled her hands up on her chest. Max and El turned to them for a moment, but they stopped eavesdropping when they saw the fight was going on between the same people as usual. 

“I'm just going to start” Robin smiled at her, wanting to take a step towards her. Steve held her hand, seeing you rise up and he whined. He didn't want to cause you any trouble. Not today, for sure. Even though he stopped Robin, you've already gotta get to them.

“I don't want to intrude, but... kids are looking at you, guys. You can't yell at each other inside. If you have something to explain to each other, please do it in the parking lot” Steve nodded his head, feeling like he was about to apologize to a teacher in grade school. Jonathan clenched his mouth in a narrow line.

“I'm calm. But someone's nervous” Nancy said, pulling Jonathan away. “You heard that?” Robin squealed outraged, trying to get back in the game. “Damn it...” “You're gonna fight again?” Dustin asked, raising his eyes from over his game. “Dustin!” you all shouted at once to silence him. You breathed deeply.

“I'm sorry, but if you can't calm down, you really-” you stopped when the light was flashing over you. Normally, it wouldn't be a big deal. But not after last night. The lights started to change color, somebody was scrolling through the tape on the equipment, so the speakers were still scrolling through the same song. And suddenly the kids started screaming.

A tall figure jumped on two slot machines, miraculously maintaining balance on them. The guy's face- because it certainly wasn't the figure of a woman- was behind a ghostly mask, made of glued together cables and electric wires that shone in the glow of colored lights in the game room. Steve experienced too much in his life to believe that anything that now was on slot machines could be a monster, but when he looked at the man in the mask the only word that came to his mind was: a ghost.

Frightened children ran to the back of the arcade where they felt safe, that is, with you. Together with Nancy, Robin, Steve and Jonathan, you tried to take as many of them as you could so that no one would get hurt. The Phantom standing above you was dressed in a cape that shone in all the colors of Pac Man's evil ghosts. The figure turned to all the gathered, looking at you with empty, dark eyes.

“If you don't leave this place within a week... I will make sure that every person present in this room meets a terrible fate” he said with a rough, unpleasant voice. Your pulse accelerated to such an extent that you were afraid your heart would jump out of your chest when a light bulb broke just above your head.

“Watch your heads!” Steve yelled and the kids covered themselves with their hands when all the light bulbs in the room started to crack, plunging you all into total darkness. One of the kids started to cry. You heard another crack and dared to open your eyes. The windshield of the place splashed into a tiny poppy. Three gaming machines were lying on the ground, the cables they were plugged into were cut. All of this was done just in a few seconds. You looked at Steve, who was breathing deeply, not knowing what to say, what to do to calm down after what had just happened.

“Jinkies” Robin muttered quietly, being the only one who dared to speak.

Taglist: @mochminnie​ @queen1054​ @krazykatkay456​ @ghostineleven​ @sydzygy​ @the-almond-dinger​ @l0ve-0f-my-life​

[starryviolentine]

Color Me Blue (That’s Me Without You): A Pre-Apocalypse Story

Part 1 (here)     Part 2 (here)     Part 3 (here) Part 4 (here)     Part 5 (here)     Part 6 (here) Part 7 (here)     Part 8 (here)     Part 9 (here)

Part 10/10: Special Delivery

Another school week has come and gone, and the students of Ericson Academy have finally reached the weekly checkpoint that everyone looks forward to the most—the weekend. After five straight days of lessons, homework and responsibilities, the one day per week when there’s no schedule, nowhere to be, and nothing but unstructured fun and relaxation is here at last. The sun is shining, the air is crisp, and, according to the weather forecast, later in the day it should be warm enough to play outside without a jacket. What a beautiful Saturday morning indeed. 

Sundays are different. There are mandatory chores in the morning and extracurriculars scheduled all throughout the afternoon. Students aren’t allowed to use the gym or the outdoor fields unless they have sports practice, nor can they set foot inside the creative arts building unless they have an art or music lesson.

But that’s a worry for tomorrow.

Today is still Saturday. For Therissa, this means snoozing until noon, then lazing around in bed with only her phone and CD player to keep her company until she feels like getting up. As for Brody and Violet, the two younger girls have been out and about all morning and are now on their way back to their bedroom to drag their teenage roommate out to lunch. After some complaining and a bit of colorful language on Therissa’s end, the three of them head down to the dining hall to grab a bite to eat, and then, when they’re done, return to their room to hang out. 

Separately, usually. Therissa likes to do her own thing, and most of the time it’s just Brody and Violet doing stuff together. Once in a blue moon, though—if all the stars and the planets align just right and Therissa is in a good mood—Brody can convince her to join them. And today, much to the twin-tailed tween’s delight, is one of those days.

Tonight, they’re going to have a campout. Or, rather, a camp “in” due to the lack of a tent, a campfire, s’mores, and the whole outdoors element that are all fundamental to a typical night of camping. Nonetheless, Brody and Violet move their mattresses to the middle of the bedroom floor and pitch a little blanket fort above them using their chairs and desks. Therissa plops herself right in the center of the mattresses and stretches out comfortably while her roomies circle the room like busy bees, collecting all of the pillows and blankets to use for extra cushioning.  

“Let’s play a game!” Brody suggests as she flops belly-first onto a mountain of blankets. “Truth or dare.” She frowns when Violet and Therissa let out a collective groan. “Come on, it’ll be fun. This is our first campout together, so we should get to know each other better.”

“You do realize we’ve all been sleeping in the same room for, like, a year, right?” Therissa points out.

“Oh, hush, you know what I mean.”

“So, basically, you want to ask me a bunch of questions and make me talk about myself,” Therissa says, catching on to Brody’s ulterior motive right away. Propping her head up with her elbow, she turns to Violet and screws up her face into one of exaggerated distaste, causing the blonde to slap her hands over her mouth to prevent herself from laughing out loud. Violet crouches down and crawls into their fort, taking a seat next to Therissa, who winks at her. 

“It’s for all of us,” Brody insists. “You get to ask me and Vi stuff, too.”

“Can’t we just, like, play cards or something?” Violet doesn’t particularly feel like talking about herself today, either. Truth or dare is one of those risky games with the potential to get uncomfortably personal. A feeling deep in her gut is telling her that playing something like that with Therissa around might not make for the most enjoyable of times. The teen seems like the type who would ask weird questions and come up with mortifying dares. 

“I second that,” says Therissa, holding up a hand with her index finger extended. “But no baby games like Go Fish or Old Maid. You guys know how to play poker?”

“Isn’t that the one where you have to… you know... take off your clothes?”

The eldest girl snorts, nearly choking, and cackles loudly. “No, V, that’s strip poker.” 

A disappointed pout appears on Brody’s face as she allows herself a moment to mourn the loss of the truth or dare game that never was. With Therissa and Violet being so similar, she comes to the realization that she very well might have to get used to being outnumbered again. It was the same way at home with her two older brothers. Now that she and her siblings are all a bit older, wiser, and have learned to compromise every now and then, it’s not so bad, but Brody remembers that when she was really little, Dawson and Hunter hardly ever wanted to do what she wanted to do. It was always two against one, and never in her favor.  

Brody doesn’t dwell on it for long, though. The most important thing is that she’s getting to spend time with Violet and Therissa. Together. At the same time! And card games can be fun, too. Brody’s never played poker in her life, but she’d love to learn. Therissa leaves their fort just to grab a slightly worn deck of cards from her desk drawer, but then Brody and Violet scoot in close, listening intently as the teen starts to explain the rules.  

Therissa only gets as far as explaining the object of the game when there’s a knock at the door. Brody excitedly hops up to see who it is. “I’ll get it!”  

It’s Marlon, this week’s mail boy, wearing khaki shorts, white knee-high socks, and a deep red polo shirt embroidered with the Ericson emblem. The matching red newsie cap atop his head is just as prominent as the scowl on his face. Each week, a different student is selected to help sort student mail and then deliver it to the correct dorm rooms. Unlike Brody, who sports the uniform with pride every time her turn to be mail girl comes along, the blonde boy is clearly one of the many kids at the school who finds the whole thing kind of humiliating. 

Reaching into the large, brown satchel hanging from his shoulder, Marlon pulls out a padded envelope and practically shoves it into Brody’s hands. “Special delivery. See ya!”

“Thanks,” says Brody, but her classmate has already taken off running down the hall. Shutting the door, Brody comes back to the center of the room and takes a closer look at the small, lumpy package. “Oh, Therissa, it’s for you!” She glances at the name and address in the upper left corner and grins. “It’s from Mel!” 

“Oh, that.” Therissa already knows what’s inside the package without having to look, and she’s already starting to feel embarrassed at the thought of what’s about to go down. Keeping a straight face, she does her best to play it cool. “Wanna open it for me?”

“Sure,” replies Brody, returning to her previous spot in the fort and shaking the envelope ever so slightly. Violet moves closer, just as curious, watching as her friend tears open one end of the package. Before Brody can reach inside, the envelope’s contents start rolling and something colorful falls out onto the mattress below. The girl blinks, speechless, and stares down at the two tiny glass bottles in awe. “It’s… nail polish. But they’re—”

“They’re yours.”

Brody takes in a sharp breath and her hands go to cover her mouth. “What?”

Therissa reaches out and takes the nail polish, holding each color in front of her face to get a look at them before they go to their new owner. There’s a shockingly hot pink and a bright sky blue, and the thought of wearing either of these colors on her own fingernails sort of makes the teenager want to puke, but they’re disgustingly, disturbingly perfect. “Yeah, I mean, if I ever wake up one day wanting to look like a bubblegum fairy princess, I’ll let you know, but until then”—Therissa removes her roommate’s hands from her face and drops the bottles into her palms—“I think you should hold onto them.”

“Oh, these colors are so cute! Are they really for me?” Brody can’t believe what’s happening. She pinches herself to make sure she’s not dreaming. Ouch. She’s not. Breaking into the biggest smile, Brody hugs the bottles to her chest.    

“It’s just, I know how much you wanted to be there when me and Violet did ours, so…” Therissa’s face is getting too warm for her to finish her sentence, so she cuts herself off. “Anyway, if I’m gonna do your nails, I had to make sure we had the right colors. You’re way too… you for any of mine. No offense.”

Squealing, Brody launches herself at the teen and hugs her tighter than ever before. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Violet snickers. “Can you imagine Brody with, like, black nails?”

“And black eyeliner and maybe a little mascara?” Therissa pictures their auburn-haired roomie wearing her makeup and shakes her head, starting to laugh as well. “Oh my god, she’d be like an emo Elmo.” With one final pat onto the younger girl’s back, Therissa pulls away gently. She looks at Brody, grinning in amusement. “What do you think? Wanna try it out? I could give you a couple piercings to match.” 

Brody gasps, face contorting into one of absolute horror as she imagines Therissa coming at her ears with a needle. She fervently shakes her head and shudders. “No!”

Therissa and Violet turn to look at each other, but as soon as they make eye contact, they both explode into hysterics. It isn’t long before Brody realizes that the teen was just kidding around, and she soon finds herself giggling, too. Whether it’s joy, sadness, excitement or even fear, Brody tends to absorb the emotions of those around her. They penetrate her down to the bone and she feels them as though they’re her own. Brody can tell what sort of mood Therissa’s in before the teenager even opens her mouth. If Violet has a bad dream and wakes up sad or scared, Brody cries right along with her. When her friends are happy, so is she.

Brody’s always been a little bit like that. 

Occasionally her mind wanders. Sometimes Brody thinks about what her life would be like if her parents never sent her to Ericson’s. Would she still be as frightened and anxious as she was before meeting Dr. Larson? Would she have found a best friend whom she loves as much as she loves Violet? Like everything else in the world, life at a boarding school has its ups and downs. Some days are tougher than others, and being away from her family is rough sometimes, but Brody is forever grateful that she ended up here.

Here, as in Ericson Academy, of course. But also here, as in right here in her bedroom, sitting in between her best friend, Violet and her newest friend, Therissa, in the cozy comfort of their blanket fort. 

And here, on this particular Saturday afternoon, Brody knows one thing for certain—she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

[nat-roman0ff]

lover - pt. 1

lover, pt.1 - the first wedding there’s a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear. -- words: 2k warnings: fluff, weddings and string lights

There was always something about a wedding that was just plain magical. The mix of love in the air and an open bar brought out the best in you. It was a cool early October evening when your childhood best friend married the love of her life. Crisp red and orange leaves lined the picture perfect vineyard as you watched her walk down the aisle. The air was just cool enough to prickle your skin when a breeze ran through, causing the hairs on your arms to stand at attention.

It couldn’t have been a more perfect day for the occasion; the weather was flawless, your shoes surprisingly weren’t killing your feet, and you found the perfect shade of lipstick at the last moment that matched your burgundy bridesmaids dress. The ceremony went off without a hitch, and as the glow in the sky faded into the horizon and tiny nighttime stars popped up in their place, shining down on the couples dancing you were strikingly reminded of how single you were.

The other bridesmaids all brought their significant others, and you were stuck at the table with the groomsmen you’d walked down the aisle with. You weren’t unfamiliar with him, of course, he was, after all, one of the most famous popstars on the planet currently. But to you he was just the cousin of the dude marrying your best friend. He sits across from you at the circular table, his navy suit jacket unbuttoned, tie missing from around his neck and the first few buttons of his black shirt undone. You swipe your bottom lip with your tongue as your eyes trace the chest hair that peers from above the collar of his shirt. 

 “Are you drunk or checking me out?” He asks.

 You snap back to reality, cheeks immediately flushing, “both?” 

 Shawn chuckles and washes back the last of what’s in his glass, “good, because so am I.” 

 “Checking yourself out?” You jest.

 “Clearly,” he scoffs.

 Shawn stands and moves to the chair beside you, “so you’re the bride’s best friend, right?” He asks.

 You nod and fold and unfold the place card in your lap, your mind was always calmer when your hands were busier. A terrible trait to have, really. 

 “Shawn,” he thrusts his hand towards you to shake, “sorry we didn’t get to hang out much before the rehearsals and stuff. Work has been crazy.”

 “I can only imagine,” you pip, “almost done with a world tour, eh?” 

 He smiles and scrunches his nose in that way that makes you sense his discomfort, “yeah, almost there. Always fun being on the road but always better coming home.” 

 “I couldn’t do it,” you sigh, “first of all I couldn’t bear being away from my cat for that long and secondly...aren’t you tired? When’s the last time you slept?” 

 “Probably 2015.” 

 You snort, “sounds like you need a nap,” you fold your arms across the table and rest your head on them, closing your eyes.

 “What are you doing?” Shawn asks. 

 You yawn, “taking a nap. Try it. It’s cathartic.” 

 He looks around to see if anyone is watching. 

 “Don’t worry about anyone paying attention. They’re either too busy being drunk or too busy trying to get laid.” 

 Shawn follows suit and rests his head against his arms on the table, his face just inches from yours, “and where do you fall in that?” 

 You ponder for a moment, “somewhere in the middle.” 

 He laughs and stifles it in the crook of his elbow. 

 “You laugh at me a lot, I’m really not that funny. So thank you for inflating my ego” you say. 

 Shawn lifts his head to rest his cheek back on his arm, “but you are funny. Not with what you say but how you say it. I don’t know how to describe it.” 

 You roll your eyes, “I think you’re drunk.”

 “I’m most definitely drunk,” Shawn says, “but I’m also right. Fuck - this is the first normal conversation I’ve had in months.” 

 You snort, “this is normal conversation? Shit, I am so sorry for you.” 

 Now it’s Shawn’s turn to roll his eyes, “you know what I mean. It’s hard to be me and still talk to normal people about normal things without it turning into an interview.” 

 “Ah yes, the peasants shalt dare not speak to thine King Mendes.” 

 He rolls his head to rest his chin on his elbow and glares at you, “you’re simultaneously the best and the worst at the same time.” 

 You follow suit, moving your head a little too fast and blinking the stars away, “I jest. I get it, you write mediocre pop songs for the masses and now all anyone cares about is who you’re dating this week and when your next album comes out. It all must be incredibly boring, especially when you’re rubbing elbows with Taylor Swift.” 

 Shawn’s eyebrows furrow, “I take that back, you’re the worst,” he says, shifting his body away from yours and turning his head to the other side of the table, “let me nap in peace. Maybe I’ll dream up some more mediocre songs.” 

 You ruffle his hair, “I’m kidding, Shawn. Your songs are lovely. In fact, I go super hard to ‘There’s Something Holding Me Back’ in the shower.”

 He turns to look at you and glowers.

 “I’m still fucking with you.” 

 “And you’re still the worst.” 

 You laugh and punch his shoulder, “c’mon, let me buy you a drink and I’ll make it up to you.” 

 Shawn sits back up and presses at the wrinkles in his shirt, “it’s an open bar.” 

 “Two drinks then!” You exclaim, standing and pulling at his arm. 

 Something happens when he holds your hand and you can’t quite explain it. Your fingers fit and lock like your hands have been searching for each other your whole life and there’s a warmth that spreads inside of you like the way a lava lamp ebbs and flows under the glass. It’s all warm and blobby and all over the place and you can feel the heat rise in your cheeks when Shawn notices it too.

 “Two drinks still makes it an open bar,” he says, breaking the tension. 

 You tug on him to follow you, following the zigzags of the threaded bulb lights against the murky midnight sky. You weave him through crowds dancing, reminiscing, taking selfies. Past the low orange leaved trees adorned with dimly lit lanterns. The hazy warm glow of everything masks the pinks in both your cheeks but can’t hide the wonderment behind both your eyes. Perhaps it’s the promise of something different, or the universe telling you this was the beginning of something new, but all you did know was that this wasn’t the first time you’d be crossing Shawn’s path again.

 ---

 After too many drinks, three rounds of karaoke, two dance offs and one sloppy makeout session in the mens room, you and Shawn found a quiet place to be. Now, your lipstick was worn off (mostly evidenced by the smears of burgundy across his neck and chest that he had no interest in hiding), his suit jacket long gone (now wrapped around your shoulders) and the sleeves of his button up rolled to his elbows.

 The reception seems to go on forever, and you’re not complaining. It’s reached a point in the night where everyone stops looking at the clock, and the party lives in its own timeless bubble where the sun never rises and everyone was effervescent in their own beautiful existence. The night was free to be whatever it wanted to whoever it wanted.

 It’s an abandoned little area, where you’re at. It had been the spot of the cocktail hour after the ceremony and now had about a dozen or so high top tables adorned with wispy white tablecloths that blew in the night breeze. The tiny bulbed lights thinned out here, and it was almost too dark to make out the strong features on Shawn’s face, but you do your damndest to memorize them in the darkness as he sits beside you on the grass.

 “Okay, give me your worst.” 

 Shawn takes a deep breath, “violets are red, Roses are Blue. Guess what? My bed has room for two.” 

 You choke on your lost count of a gin and tonic, tucked somewhere in the back garden of the venue. The music from the reception is faint and overpowered by the booming laughter coming out of your chest. 

 “Something in that is wrong,” you manage, “and violets are blue, dumbass.” 

 “Hey, I’m drunk, I’m trying here,” Shawn slurs, leaning in, his face getting almost too close to yours. 

 The smell of gin radiates off of him, his pink cheeks liken him to a sort of porcelain doll and the string lights in the trees around you reflect off the glassiness of his hazel eyes, “that has to be the worst joke I’ve ever heard. It doesn’t actually work does it?” 

 Shawn moves closer and brushes his nose against yours, “you tell me.” 

 You gasp, clutching your chest and leaning back away from him, “you’re fucking brilliant,” his face cortorts in confusion, “it wasn’t the joke at all that you use as the pickup line - it’s the follow through.” 

 He grins wide and takes another sip of his drink, partially missing his mouth as a dribble falls from his chin and soaks into the collar of his shirt, “you caught me,” he opens his arms out, “I wouldn’t say I’m a master, but I’m pretty goddamn good.” 

 “You’re tricky,” you swirl the liquid in your glass, “and you’re deceiving.” 

 He scoffs, “I’m deceiving. You’ve been playing all night like you haven’t been checking me out, bought me a drink at an open bar and you touched my butt. Twice.” 

 You purse your lips, “the second butt touch was an accident.” 

 Shawn narrows his eyes, “you’re a terrible liar.”

 You shrug, “maybe I am.” 

 A breeze rolls through and chills your spine and kicks up the leaves around your feet. You look at Shawn, all faded out and glossy eyed. His lips are pressed a little too hard together into a wet pout and his half hooded eyes stare right back at yours. 

 It’s quiet like this for a while, the crickets chirp along to the faded big band music from the reception and you find yourselves in a comfortable fog. Shawn’s fingertips play with yours as you try and busy your fingers to slow your brain. His face droops slowly with the mixture of drunkenness and sleepiness. 

 You reach out, running your fingers through his hair, “what are you thinking about?” You ask.

 Shawn leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours, interlocking both of your fingers together. His lips brush past yours softly like you hadn’t been biting and tugging on them barely an hour ago, “the rest of my goddamn life.” 

 He presses a kiss against your lips but as soon as it starts it fades and his head drops to your lap with a soft thud. Tiny snores emit from his lips and you chuckle to yourself as you play with his curls, twirling the soft strands of hair around your fingertips. 

 You let your fingers trace the sharpest points of his face; chin and jaw. But you also make it a point to reach the softest, like the dulling blush high on his cheekbones or the softly etched scar on his cheek. It’s not until you’ve run out of canvas on his face that you realize his hand is still holding yours tightly. Shawn moves ever so slightly when you shift, but nuzzles himself closer in. 

 There’s a creeping gnawing feeling coming on and you know this has to end eventually. Soon the party will be over, everyone will go home and the sun will rise to a new day and this encapsulated bubble of love and warmth will be nothing but a memory on Instagram feeds and yearly anniversaries. Frankly, it makes your heart sink into your ass and your overwhelming warmth is replaced with overwhelming sadness. It’s the high of happiness and a surge of endorphins followed with the crash and burn of the reality of tomorrow.

 Even though you hadn’t realized it yet, that was the very first time you ever felt the pang of missing someone who was right in front of you. 

 But it wouldn’t be the last.

[coeurdastronaute]

Either/Or: Nerd 10

Previously on Nerd

The house on Smallman Street was a raucous affair. 

The lights spilled out from the windows, casting long yellow streaks through the freshly free from snow lawn while the music played and boomed, thumping quietly along to the laughter of the people inside. Cars filled the street in all directions, pulled up onto the edges of lawns and blocking each other in. The night air was crisp and the party was needed after the winter that seemed to provide perpetual clouds and precipitation. 

It was everything Lexa imagined and expected, and yet when confronted with the grandeur and majesty of a high school party, she was slightly overwhelmed. The theory of it was gone, and the practice seemed like a lot. But still, she closed the door to Clarke’s truck and sighed in the almost warm air of the spring evening and shivered. 

From the edge of the lawn, Lexa peered up at the house and driveway that filled with classmates. She adjusted her glasses and took a deep breath to prepare for the evening. She wasn’t alone, she had to remind herself. And it could be fun. It sounded like it was a lot of fun, and that was something to start with. 

“Did I mention you look exceptionally cute tonight?” Clarke asked as she rounded the truck, shoved her keys in her pocket and smiled at Lexa. 

It was a dangerous smile, Lexa realized, and one that she was beginning to become intimately familiar with. Something about the single dimple and the ghost of the other, the stretch of red lips and the spark of something in her eyes that made Clarke absolutely lethal. And that was before words were put into the equation. 

Dumbly, Lexa adjusted her glasses and looked down at her jeans and sneakers and old sweater over an old shirt from a trip to some national park. It wasn’t anything special or even that remarkable. She hadn’t put any effort into it other than to keep her mother from complaining that she was wearing sweatpants. 

“I don’t know about that.” 

“I like this sweater,” Clarke explained, fiddling with the stitch of the knitted dark green. “It makes your eyes seem like they’re really green.” 

“Oh?” 

“You look cozy and I like that.” 

Without anymore argument, she stretched and kissed Lexa quickly, chastly, as if sealing the words that wanted to come out forever. Satisfied with her work, she grinned and held Lexa’ hand before tugging her toward the house and music and people and lives. 

“I can be the sweet one sometimes,” Clarke explained. “Wouldn’t want you to think I don’t think you’re cute.” 

“I don’t get it, but I’m not going to fight it,” Lexa promised. “Even if you need to get your eyes checked.” 

As they walked up the steps, Clarke laughed and Lexa felt herself breathe a sigh of relief for earning something like that. 

“We’re not going to be that couple that argues about how cute the other is. That’s absolutely disgusting.” 

“Ew, yes.” 

“Cool, then just accept it.” 

“I already agreed, despite mild objection.” 

“That’s not accepting.” 

“It’s accepting and dissenting. That’s allowed in a democracy.” 

“This is, at best, a constitutional monarchy,” Clarke explained. 

“Shut up,” Lexa nudged her and laughed. 

From inside the party, a few eyes turned to see the couple approaching-- the same couple that they were still very unsure was an actual couple. They certainly looked like one, with their hands locked and arms swinging between their two bodies. Their cheeks were blushing and if anyone were to pay attention to them, they might notice the slight way they rotated around each other, and the slight adoration witnessed through glances and smiles and body language. 

The house was absolutely stuffed with people and noise and commotion, but the pair pushed in, all smiles and greeting their friends as they trudged onwards to find a place to anchor themselves. 

Tugged forward, Lexa held Clarke’s hand as they wove through the kitchen and deeper into the house and toward the music. She didn’t really pay attention to people she passed, but rather that she was very close to Clarke and holding her hand and that was enough for her amidst it all. 

Somehow she got a cup of nearly warm beer and accepted it without a fuss and sipped it before deciding that she would be nursing it for the rest of the night. 

“You made it!” a voice erupted as Clarke finally stopped directing them through the bodies. 

The hand disappeared and Lexa went from looking at her cup to her empty hand to Clarke’s neck being engulfed by another set of arms, and she was very confused her feet weren’t moving anymore. It felt like she’d been making the pilgrimage through the party for years with no real destination in mind. 

“Finally. I’ve been waiting for my partner to get here so we can run the beer pong table,” another voice entered the forray. 

Lexa stood back slightly and let Clarke greet her friends, recognizing and barely knowing a few of them. She felt like she knew them because of Clarke, and the secondhand knowledge seemed a little weird at the moment. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Clarke explained, tucking hair behind her ear as she leaned back and found Lexa’s side. “I was running late, and then Lexa’s soccer game went later than expected.” 

The eyes of the group all realized that aforementioned Lexa was standing there. She took a sip of her beer and smiled slightly. 

“How’d it go?” Wells broke the quiet, and Lexa was grateful she didn’t have to keep sipping her drink. 

Clarke leaned against her side, and Lexa was grateful for it. 

“Really well. We won again. I think it’s two in a row for us,” she explained and nodded slightly before someone grabbed her. 

“We’re twelve and two thanks to this one’s goal tonight!” 

Lexa grinned as an arm wrang her neck and she jostled with the motion, grateful to have someone else she knew. 

“All because of your assist,” Lexa promised her teammate. 

“I was spectacular,” Raven agreed. “Thanks for finally getting her to come out, Clarke. We’ve been asking Woods to come forever.” 

“And here I thought she was just my nerd hiding out,” Clarke teased, earning a furious blush as she slipped an arm around Lexa’s middle. 

“I always assumed she was just too busy.” 

“I am,” Lexa disagreed, slipping her arm over Clarke’s shoulder. “I just finally had some time open up.” 

“Convenient,” Raven nodded. 

It was probably much worse in her head, but Lexa realized she was almost having a good time throughout the night. She’d dreaded those events as nothing more than an opportunity to embarrass herself, or feel even more disconnected than ever from her classmates. Maybe it was time and distance and fate, but it clicked, and she felt like she wasn’t lugging around her brother’s baggage for the evening, like she could enjoy herself, even if he wasn’t there. Guilt was limited, finally. 

Three drinks in, and Clarke got cozier, and Lexa didn’t mind at all. Warmth spread through her chest as she experienced loopy Clarke. 

Tucked in a spare living room that led out to the backyard, the group ebbed and flowed, adding and subtracting and shifting like a tide pool. Clarke sat on the floor, her back against the couch with Lexa beside her. She pressed closer when reaching for something, and she let her hand linger on Lexa’s thigh, tucking it there absently while her thumb traced the hem. 

For a moment, at some point in the middle of that happening, Lexa gulped and looked at Clarke, slowly, so as not to draw attention to herself. She looked down at the hand and tried to pay attention desperately to the people talking. 

“Settle something for us, Woods,” Bellamy half-shouted though the music was lower than ever. The alcohol coursed through the party, seeping out the edges. 

“Yes?” 

“What did you get suspended for on that eighth grade field trip?” 

“You got suspended?” Clarke scoffed, her surprise evident. 

“It’s not that crazy of a notion.” 

“It’s… it’s actually unbelievable.” 

“It’s not.” 

“It really is,” a few other people chimed in and Lexa sighed and shook her head. 

“I bet it was because you were doing extra credit on a school trip.” 

“Or taking too many notes.” 

“Correcting the tour guide,” Raven offered with a laugh as everyone joined. 

Lexa couldn’t help but smile when she thought about it, something she hadn’t done in too long. She felt Clarke squeeze her thigh and she took a deep breath before starting. 

“It wasn’t anything exciting. Aden and I wanted to go to this movie and then the comic shop a few blocks away from the museum, so we snuck out and thought we’d just join at the bus,” she began. “But everyone was gone by the time we made our way back.” 

“You ditched a field trip?” Bellamy balked. 

“I thought you’d never ditched before?” Clarke furrowed, faux betrayal on her face. 

“I didn’t count it as ditching. I’d been to that museum every year for how many school trips?” 

“Probably every year of school,” Wells agreed. “I feel like I could recite the entire tour by heart.” 

“Exactly. So it wasn’t ditching persay.”

“But Aden didn’t get suspended,” Raven reminded the group. 

“I was the distraction while he slipped back in with the group at school. We grabbed a cab, but didn’t have enough money to cover it.” 

“You almost got away with it.” 

“Yeah. Almost.” 

There was a pause as Lexa swirled the remnants of her drink and took the last bit in a big gulp. The group thought about it for a little while, the party slowly dying around them. 

“Do you remember when Aden got stuck up in that tree over by the lake?” Gus asked. “They had to use the ladder on the fire truck to get him down.” 

“You’re the one who dared him, if I remember correctly,” Raven sassed as everyone laughed at the memory of when they were just scuffed-knee kids in too much trouble. 

“He was really good at climbing,” Bellamy promised, dissecting the moment. 

Lexa felt a pain in her heart-- not a stabbing, not a tearing, not a purposefully painful type of ache, but rather a soreness, as if her heart has worked out harder than ever before, and the lactic acid built up to a degree that made movement feel like the muscles were stretched to their limit. It was a healthy ache, one that still felt uncomfortable but was by no means unbearable, and if she wasn’t mistaken, perhaps even required. 

“Hey,” Clarke whispered. “You okay?” 

Without even really thinking, Lexa nodded and made herself smile. It was forced only for a split second before she met Clarke’s eyes and meant it. 

“Very okay,” she promised. 

Clarke wasn’t sure she believed her, but before Lexa could protest again, she shifted and kissed her cheek, burning and pink and all. 

“Thanks for coming, by the way.” 

“Thanks for inviting me.”

“Will you drive me home later?” 

“I will,” Lexa smiled, never breaking their glance an leaning forward, goofy smile on her face to match the slightly inebriated one that stared back. 

“Will you kiss me?” 

“Right now?” 

“Eventually.” 

“Definitely.” 

“But also right now.” 

Lexa couldn’t help but laugh and she agreed, the tips of ears burning as she leaned forward for a chaste kiss. She pulled back and had Clarke’s eyes on her and she had arms around her neck and the slight weight of the girl of her dreams. And when she closed them again, Clarke leaned forward and kissed her again. 

“Will you go dance outside with me?”

“Oh, well… I don’t-- I’m not much of a dancer.” 

“Perfect. Me neither.” 

Uncoordinated and messy, Clarke pushed herself up before Lexa could argue, tugging her along. 

“Where are you two going?” 

“I want to move. I want to dance. I want air,” Clarke explained. “And Lexa is nice enough to do whatever I ask.” 

“Dumb enough, you mean,” the soccer player supplied. 

“That too,” she grinned and pulled through the crowd, leaving a gaggle of friends behind who only watched after them for a moment before hopelessly gossiping about the pair. 

XXXXXXXXXX

Toward the end of the night, the cars disappeared slowly. People made their ways back to their respective homes or friend’s houses or next port in the never-ending sagae of drinking and general teenage debauchery. Lexa wasn’t sure how, but she knew a lot of people at the party, and they were all happy to see her, bemoaning the fact that they hadn’t see her out before. 

“I thought you wanted to dance,” Lexa furrowed as Clarke opened the truck and handed her the keys. 

“I’m not that drunk, but I know how you get,” she smiled. “I just wanted to get out, and sometimes you have to play your part in order to escape. A french exit sounds nice, doesn’t it?” 

“If you want to stay, we can,” Lexa shook her head, still looking at the keys as Clarke made her way to the passenger seat. She leaned over the hood and rolled her eyes. 

“Let’s get out of here.” 

“Sounds good.” 

As was becoming normal, Clarke played with the radio, carefully finding something , but failing as they made their way down the block and away from the party. When she scrolled through the dial twice, she pushed in an old cassette and let the song start that made her smile. Lexa felt a hand on her thigh as she drove and gulped before adjusting slightly. 

“Where am I going?” 

“Anywhere. Your curfew isn’t for another hour, right?” 

“Just about.” 

“Head over towards the mall. I’m hungry.” 

“You’re kind of bossy.” 

“I thought you liked that.” 

“I must.” 

Clarke smiled as she watched lights zoom by. She hummed along to the music and snuck glances at the girl driving her truck. Lexa had a knack for concentrating. She focused intently and let little else into her mind, and it was endearing, for the most part. But at the moment, slightly intoxicated and exceptionally turned on, Clarke was less amused by Lexa’s inability to give her attention and drive a car. 

“What are you looking at?” Lexa laughed nervously as she caught Clarke’s eye.

“You. I like looking at you.” 

CLarke looked away with the confession. She felt her cheeks blush and she sighed, her head leaning against the window. 

XXXXXXXXX

“Have you decided anything?” Lexa asked, snagging a fry from the container between them as they sat in the old truck in the middle of the empty mall parking lot. 

This felt a little more normal than the party, though she remembered not being particularly overwhelmed, which was a surprise. For an instant, Lexa believed that maybe her brain wasn’t as broken as she accused it of being sometimes. She sipped her soda and waited as the girl beside her finished chewing. 

Slightly intoxicated, but coming down from it, Clarke was messy hair and handsy. Neither facts were a problem for Lexa. 

“I haven’t yet, but I’ve debated it, and I think I might just tell her I know, and to stop. My dad will never have to know.” 

“That’s true,” she agreed. 

“The doctors are usually pretty optimistic for him, but his symptoms are becoming more often, and I just don’t know how long I have him for.”

“And you don’t want to ruin the last bit of time.” 

“Yeah.” 

The pair relaxed and finished up the make shift dinner a fast food drive thru provided. Lexa spent a good portion of it watching Clarke adjust and her legs cross and change on the dashboard. Between sips of her drink, she tried to think of something to say, but failed to come up with anything that would have made a difference. 

“I appreciate you asking,” Clarke finally sighed, balling up a wrapper and tossing it on the floor of her truck. “But please, can we not let my mother ruin anything else?”

Clarke let her head lull back until she looked over at Lexa and gave her a smile that showed how tired a lot of her own thoughts made her. She needed to be real and present. She needed anchored. 

“Whatever you need.” 

“I’ll take any distractions you can give me.” 

As she spoke, Clarke shifted closer so that she was against Lexa’s side in almost no time, an arm around her shoulder, the flat seat of the truck a perfect place to casually lean against another person. Outside, the parking lot was a desolate ocean of hatched asphalt and lights that were beacons against all else. Inside, the tape played and Lexa smelled Clarke’s hair, finding the familiar shampoo warm and lingering on the evening. 

“Well, there is a dance coming up…” Lexa trailed off and debated what word should come next, and she was left with a complete blank. There had to be another word that went there. All wors could be followed by other words, it was the basis of human speech. And yet all words, tens of thousands of them, they all felt wrong. 

Clarke turned slightly, which just made Lexa more nervous. But instead of helping, she just held her arm and pulled it tighter around her shoulders. 

“Interesting.” 

“The Sadie Hawkins dance,” Lexa explained. 

“Rings a bell.” 

“It’s when the girl asks the guy to the dance. It’s nothing too crazy. They’re doing a decade theme. The Sock Hop 60’s.” 

“Wow, you sure do know a lot about the dance for someone who doesn’t like to dance.” 

“I hear things,” she shrugged. “I just don’t know how it works if we’re both girls.” 

“Are you trying to ask me to the dance, Lexa?” Clarke teased. “I never would have imagined you wanting to go.” 

“Seems like a good distraction.” 

“Purely selfless then?” 

“Yeah,” her cheeks burned with the fib. 

The cheerleader beside her let her worry in the quiet before shifting slightly. Clarke remained very close to Lexa, though she faced her now. She looked at her lips and back at her eyes and she really looked at the track-running, school government secretary, part time tutor, part time mechanic, full time babe. She ran her fingertips along her jaw and saw the nerves that existed on her cheeks. 

“Do you want to take me to the dance?” 

Lexa nodded and smiled. 

“Good. Because I just assumed you were my date.” 

Without warning, Lexa pushed forward slightly and kissed the girl that was almost in her lap. She kissed Clarke eagerly, happily, a distraction and a very honest panacea for all that ailed the wonderful girl in the front seat. Relatively new to the kissing and making out thing, Lexa was eager to spend many hours doing it more often. She felt arms wrap around her neck as Clarke pushed against her. Her whole body melted in response. 

“Don’t I have to get you home before curfew?” 

“I’ve never been out past it,” Lexa smiled, kissing Clarke again and earning a slight chuckle despite her lips. 

“A few minutes late won’t hurt, I guess.” 

Lexa made it approximately thirty more seconds into the first bits of what had the markings of her best make out yet, and the guilt snuck into her head and she pulled away, lips swollen and mind conflicted. 

“I should get home before curfew.” 

Clarke let out a laugh and shook her head before hugging Lexa’s shoulders for just a moment before scooting to her own side. 

“Thank you for everything.” 

“Thanks for making out with me.”               

next

[lovemesomesurveys]

5,000 questions survey series–part forty-two

These surveys always take me so long to get through, hence why I took such a long break from them. The questions are just too much at times and some are just plain annoying. But, I’ll try and finish it eventually. A couple of you have been taking it lately, so I figured I’d start up again.

4001. How would you rate your sex drive? It’s been non-existent the past few years, honestly.  4002. You are sitting alone with a stack of videos and a vcr. Of the following which are you most likely to puut on (1 is most, 10 is least) I’m just gonna bold which one I’d likely watch out of all of ‘em...

The good the bad and the ugly, dracula, slc punk, twin peaks fire walk with me, jerry springer too hot for tv, singing in the rain, flash gordon, the matrix, blade runner, the muppet movie 4003. Are you more likley to get or send random instant messages? I receive nice messages more often than I receive random ones. I got a rude one recently; however, about how I’m still a 31 year old virgin. Does it affect their life? No. So, don’t worry about it. *eye roll* I do get a lot of random comments on my surveys from su*ar da**ies, though... super annoying. 4004. If you were writing an ad telling people to come to your town what would you say about it? I wouldn’t write such an ad. My town sucks. 4005. What part of your body can you not stand to get an itch on? One that’s hard to reach.

4006. How many people do you suppose have stolen that System of a Down album called 'steal this album'? I haven’t heard anything about that, I’m not even familiar with that album of theirs. I’m there were people who tried/did.  4007. Name a band you like: Linkin Park. What are/were this band's roots and influences? Zeppelin, Run DMC, Public Enemy, Rage Against the Machine, Depeche Mode. 4008. would you rather have a poster of john lennon or a cute fuzzy black cat? Cute fuzzy black cat. 4009. make a public service announcement: Wear a mask! 4010. What makes you feel the need to escape? Just the need for a change of scenery and to help take my mind off things a bit for a little while. I’m sad I couldn’t go to the beach at all this summer because that’s my one place where I’m able to relax at all and just zone out. 4011. You and your signifigant other, crush, interest etc...who is the ernie and who is the bert? I don’t have any of those. 4012. When was the last time you did something and later asked yourself 'did I do the right thing?'? I hate when I forget if I took my medicine or not. I end up taking it, questioning and hoping that I didn’t already take it. I feel so robotic at times and like I’m just living life on autopilot, so things like that tend to happen. 4013. What do you find it hard to say goodbye to? I have a hard time getting rid of things because of my emotional attachment to them. 4014. What is your fantasy valentine's day like? I’ll admit it, it would be nice to experience a Valentine’s Day with someone and actually do something. It’s always been just another day for me. 4015. If you had to have a color for a name, what color would it be? Jade. 4016. Should preference be given to minority students during the college admission process? I think everyone should have the same opportunity.  4017. Sweet wine, fresh crisp appples, bagles with creme cheese and lox...what is the most incredibly luxurious food? I don’t know about those options, but if I were to think of luxurious foods I’d think of like expensive wine, cheeses, fresh fruits, and seafood like caviar and lobster and whatnot. I’m picky so I personally don’t care for fancy foods. 4018. Is there really anything to fear in communism? I don’t know enough about communism and socialism and all that to speak on it. 4019. Best sesame street character: Uhh, Big Bird. most annoying sesame street character: Elmo can be a little annoying sometimes. 4020. feast or famine? I don’t need to overindulge and have excess, I just would like to be able to have food.  4021. Write a poem right here in five minutes or less: Nah. 4022. Do you stay and help clean up after a party? I usually was one to leave early. 4023. Why was the teddy bear named after teddy roosevelt? His name was Theodore, Teddy for short, and apparently while out on a hunting trip he refused to kill a bear and someone dedicated a bear stuffed animal to him and called it Teddy’s Bear. Then it was just called a teddy bear and the rest was history. 4024. What are you the prince or princess of? Uhhh. 4025. Some people think that Christmas should be taken off of public school calanders because it is politically incorrect. What aould you say to this? I say no. It can still be winter break for those who don’t celebrate. 4026. Would you rather go to an excorcism or a step aerobics class? Uh, I think an aerobics class sounds a lot better than an exorcism. I wouldn’t be able to participate in a step aerobics class, though. I’d have to do something else. 4027. Do you believe in spells and curses? No. 4028. What tv show does your family watch together? There isn’t really one all 4 of us watch, but there’s several that 2 or 3 of us watch together. I guess Family Guy or American Dad could be one all 4 of us could watch, although I don’t really care for either one much. 4029. What's on your calander this year? Nothing. 4030. Is anything ruining your life? It has felt that way with my health issues. 4031. How was life meant to be lived? “We were meant to live for so much moreeee.” 🎶

4032. What is your usual breakfast? I rarely have breakfast, but I like breakfast foods like eggs and hash browns. And country gravy, yum. 4033. If you had kids, would you worry about what they did online? Of course.  4034. Will you be maxin and relaxin this weekend? Sure. If not, what are your weekened plans? 4035. Who has the most interesting story to tell: someone who used to fly to asia as a drug trader the ceo of Nike a nyc homeless person a preacher's wife

^^^They all would. 4036. What do you have a bad feeling about? The future regarding this virus. 4037. Do you have a lot to say? No. 4038. If a smallpox vaccine was offered to you, would you take it? Wasn’t that one of the ones given as a baby or child? I should mention I live in the US. 4039. Would you ever work at a kissing booth? No. how about a dunking booth? No. 4040. There is a woman who paints by stripping naked, rolling around in paint and then pressing her body against the canvas. What do you think of her art? I’ve never seen it, but hey do your thing. 4041. Have you ever bought something you saw on tv? Yeah, I mean that’s what commercials are intended to do. However, I’ve never called the number for a product advertisement to order something that way. Like those as seen on TV products. There have been some of those products sold in actual stores, though, that I’ve got like the Snuggie and that Finishing Touch Flawless Razor. 4042. Name a relative:  that relative dies unexpectedly. On the same day 9/11 happens. You can either bring back your relative or bring back 1/2 the people who dies on 9/11. What do you do? I don’t like these type of questions. 4043. Have you gone mental? I’ve definitely felt like that. 4044. What do you think of jews for jesus? You word this like it’s the name of a group or something. Okay, so I Googled it and see that it’s an organization.  4045. Has anyone ever tried to 'save' you? Yes. 4046. Quick! picture santa clause in your head... ...Okay. Was he black or white when you pictured him? White. That’s just how I’ve often seen him portrayed. 4047. Would you ever buy a black santa clause? Sure. Santa isn’t real, you can make him look any way you want. 4048. or take your kids to vist a black santa clause? Yeah? why or why not? Santa is Santa.  4049. What do you smell like? I just smell my clothes laundry detergent scent. 4050. What kind of soup do you eat? I’m a ramen girl all the way. 4051. What have you heard about the next Harry Potter book? Will you pre-order it? I know this is old, but I haven’t read any of the Harry Potter books. 4052. Would you rather go out or stay in? I’m a hermit crab.  4053. What's your favorite song to hear on halloween? I like the classics like Monster Mash. Oh, and the Halloween movie theme music for spooky vibes. 4054. What song makes you feel all tingly like you want to laugh and scream and cry? Uhh I don’t feel that way about any song. 4055. If you were starting a website that was not about you, what Would it be about? Nah. 4056. Do you ever take the long way just for fun? I don’t drive. 4057. '..and god said let there be ____and there I was.' Fill in the blank, as if if you were talking about yourself. ‘...and God said let there be Stephanie and there I was.’ 4058. What do you think of when you hear the word 'mill'? A million.  4059. What do you think of when you hear the name: weird al? Parodies. bob dylan? Music. michael jackson? Moon dance. henry rollins? billy idol? White wedding. gary numan? will smith? Fresh Prince of Bel Air. paul mcartney? Black Bird. alice cooper? Rock and roll. J Lo? Jenny from the Block. 4060. What is one social disater you have had? It was really embarrassing getting sick in front of everyone at my party 7 years ago aka the last time I drank alcohol. I just threw up on myself in front of everyone and sat there and my friend had to help clean me up. What really messes me up is that I don’t remember drinking that much, so I don’t know how I got so drunk. 4061. Can you moonwalk? No. 4062. If a presidential candidate went on late night tv, picked up a guitar and rocked out on it and could really play, would that influence you to like/respect them more? I’d probably be like wow that’s cool, but no I wouldn’t let that influence my vote. Them being able to play an instrument doesn’t say shit about their policies or whether they’d make a good fit for the job. 4064. If it was possible for people to instantly change from one sex to another, would everyone be straight in the end? Uhh just cause they could switch their gender it doesn’t change their brain/sexual preference.  Would you change your sex? No. 4065. Finish the sentance: nobody broke your heart, if you're alone... I don’t know. 4066. Would you rather have a best friend OR a boyfriend/girlfriend on a Friday night? I’d rather stay at home and do my own thing, ha. 4067. Would a woman rather be complimented about her intelligence OR her looks? Depends on the individual.  4068. Do you tend to think of the right thing to say after the moment is gone? Always. Super annoying. 4069. Would you rather a potential mate have nice hair OR nice legs? Nice hair out of the two. 4070. Okay,…. nice hair OR a nice rack/bulge? I don’t look for a “nice bulge” when I look at guys. 4071. What is one thing you thought you would enjoy, but actually didn’t? Hmm. I’m blanking at the moment. 4072. Be in the spotlight OR in the shadows? In the shadows. 4073. What is your favorite part of the newspaper? I haven’t read a newspaper in several years. When I was a kid I loved the comics, though. 4074. What in your life has been an “acquired taste” for you? Alcohol. I never really cared for it, honestly. I drank because my friends were and felt like that’s what people in their early 20s liked to do. And because it was fun sometimes, though I more often just felt like crap. It’s been 7 years since I last drank and I truly haven’t missed it. 4075. Do you find sunlight makes you happier? No. 4076. If you could conquer one fear, it would be...? I’d take care of some health related things. 4077. What's the dumbest thing you've ever seen someone do or heard anyone has done? There’s been a lot of things. 4078. How do you feel about the fact that J-Lo earns 37 million dollars a year? Is that actually true? This survey is also like a decade or so old. Do you buy anything that contributes to her salary? I haven’t bought any JLO related in several years. Is J Lo the ultimate ideal of what a woman should be? To some people. 4079. What is unforgettable beauty? I don’t know. 4080. Worst fashion mistake EVER: I don’t know or care. 4081. What is your advice to someone on their first date? Ha, I’m definitely not one to ask for dating advice. 4082. Is there a musical performer more ridiculous than Avril Lavigne (I don't think there is)? I didn’t think she was ridiculous.  4083. What is the best: daytime talk show? Dr. Phil. late night talk show? I don’t watch any anymore. 4084. Are you afraid of total freedom? What would that mean? 4085. Do you live in an invisible prison? I feel that way with my mind and health. 4086. Who do you feel distant from, that you used to be close to? I’m not close to anyone anymore outside of my immediate family.  4087. Rate the following song lyrics (1 = you like it the most, 9 = you like it the least). Nah, I really hate the rating questions. Maybe you shouldn't care/throw away those dreams/& dare Eden lets me in/I find the seeds of love/And climb upon the highwire/I kiss and tell all my fears I know the pressure is on/In a race for the life of endless love/If it seems to much/Remember/All these things are endless I see the wind, oh I see the trees/Everything is clear in my heart/I see the clouds, oh I see the sky/Everything is clear in our world Inflatable doll/Lover ungrateful/I blew up your body/But you blew my mind Well I jumped into the river/too many times to make it home/I'm out here on my own/drifting all alone/and if it doesn't show/ give it time/to read between the lines The very thought of you makes/My heart sing/Like an April breeze/On the wings of spring/And you appear in all your splendor/My one and only love now I've had lots of girls/most of them from other worlds/but lookin through the galaxey/the valley girls are the ones for me I'm the dandy highwayman so sick of easy fashion/the clumsy boots, peek-a-boo roots that people think so dashing/so what's the point of robbery when nothing is worth taking?/it's kind of tough to tell a scruff the big mistake he's making 4088. Can you name any of the nine bands/songs above? I didn’t even read any of the lyrics. 4089. What would your reaction be if a total stranger called to say s/he loved you and told you that you were to pass the message on to others in a telephone call you make yourself? Uh, I wouldn’t answer a call from a total stranger first of all and even if I actually did, I would be like wtf and hang up.  4090. Would you like to take a journey to jupiter? No. I have no desire to take any trip to outer space. 4091. Can you crack nuts in your bare hands? I’ve never tried, but I’m going to assume that I couldn’t.  4092. Do you take walks at night? No. Or ever. 4093. Beavis and Butthead or daria? Neither. 4094. Cow or chicken? Chicken. 4095. Do you think you will visit China in this life? I don’t see that happening, but who knows.  4096. Are you having a happy day? No. 4097. When was or will be your 'golden birthday' (when your age is the same as your birthdate, like turning 17 on the 17th)? My golden birthday was 3 years ago. 4098. Enlighten everyone with something profound: Nah. 4099. When has the third time been the charm for you? Hmm. 4100. What is kinda sick, but fun? Uhhh.

[guksauce]

✨Paradise✨

Description: Ryung Nam-joon finds herself caught in a dream she never thought she’d have after receiving an invitation from her older brother Kim Nam-joon, to join him on the road with 6 other members of the worldwide famous K-pop group, BTS.

Word Count- 5,360K

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Chapter 3 •Camping•

Tonight, the night sky above us was swimming with stars as we sat around the campfire. I’m not sure what it was about late nights, sweaters, cold air, and a roaring fire but I was so comfortable sitting atop the log Jimin, and I shared gazing into the flames. I couldn’t have been more excited when my brother came into practice the other day and announced that we’d be going camping this weekend. Joonie and I used to love going on camping trips with our parents before they became work-aholic’s.

The boys had spent the last hour reminiscing about when they had first debuted as BTS not so long ago, tales full of funny memories and tear-jerking stories. It was quite lovely, being able to see how far they’ve come and how proud they are of each other for bursting through all the obstacles and their dreams and making them come true.

I on the other hand, had been silent almost the whole time. Jealousy was a hateful feeling, but it was still tugging at my heart that I couldn’t join in on what they were talking about because I had no idea where to even begin. I was starting to feel a little bit awkward within the circle of men.

I’ll admit, I had to keep what Jungkook and I talked about on the balcony of my hotel room at the forefront of my mind while they mentioned all the things I never was a part of. I had to keep reminding myself over and over that it didn’t matter what things I had and hadn’t been a part of then, I’m a part of what’s going on now and that should be enough. I looked to Jungkook, hoping to find his eyes on me but he was immersed in the memories as well. I smiled regardless of the twinge in my heart, happy that he was enjoying himself, and stood in need of another drink. I walked between Hoseok and Jin to get to the table with all the beverages on it after looking to see who needed a refill, both of whom greeted me on my way through, and reached for the cooler that held the beer inside. I pulled out three beers in addition to mine and took a moment to close my eyes and try to clear my head of anymore negative thoughts.

Carrying them back, I handed the first one to Jin, the next to Tae, and the last to Jungkook. They each thanked me as I took a seat closer to the fire, letting the flames lick my frosted cheeks.

“Aren’t you too hot?” Jungkook asked and plopped down next to me. I shook my head and took a swig of my beverage, the cold carbonated bubbles sliding down my throat and settling in my stomach.

“Too hot? Yeah right, have you seen me?” I joked, my eyes finding his lips just long enough to see them part slightly with subtle laughter. He looked like he was about to protest but his eyes fell to his lap.

“Are you doing ok?” He asked as I looked back at the fire. I nodded not looking back at him for fear that I would stare again.

“So…would it be weird if I asked you for your number? You know, just in case?” I asked, taking a leap. He shuffled through his pockets and retrieved his phone, handing it to me without question.

“Of course. Go ahead and put your number in and ill text you.” He said and put his hood up. It was getting chillier, my fingers worked slower than normal with the cold numbing them more with every letter I clicked, and I handed him back his phone. He sent me a text immediately and dropped his phone in his lap.

“Thank you.” I said and locked my phone after saving his contact under the name ‘Kookie’. I looked around at the guys, who were still laughing and chatting loudly with each other, my stomach flipping again as I looked back to the flames.

“You want to go for a walk real quick?” He asked out of the blue.

“Right now?” I asked, a tad shocked. But he nodded and stood, reaching his hand out to help me up.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” He said we a sly smile and turned walking away as I followed.

It was dark and his flashlight only did so much without the glowing of the fire we’d left behind. I couldn’t see anything as we got further and further away and tripped over something jutting up from the ground, falling forward into Jungkook’s back, gripping his sides.

“I’m sorry!” I squealed and pulled my hands back as fast as I could after stabilizing myself.

“It’s fine Ryung-ssi. If you need to hang on to me, I don’t mind.” He said politely, calming my embarrassment. I rested my hand on his shoulder the rest of the way until we came out to a clearing. In the distance, the light of the moon lit up a range of mountains and a winding river. I could just barely make out the running of the water before noticing we were on a cliff. I stepped closer to Jungkook as I observed the edge with weary eyes grabbed hold of his arm without realizing it.

“I won’t let you fall.” He said with a smile I couldn’t see but could hear in his voice, my eyes not yet adjusted to the darkness. “What do you think? It’s cool right?” He asked.

“Its beautiful. The moon is huge tonight!” I exclaimed and shivered violently, watching my breath turn to a cloud of tiny crystals in front of me.

“Are you cold?” He asked and I nodded. He let go of me for a moment and turned me to him. He made quick work of putting up my hood and adjusting my coat as he pulled me into his chest as though we’d done this a hundred times before. I wrapped my arms around him willingly, absorbing the heat he was putting off, thankful that it was dark enough that he couldn’t see the blush that just bloomed on my cheeks. Thankful that he was even offering to begin with, I felt like my fingers were going to fall off. “If this makes you uncomfortable at any point, just let me know.” He said sweetly and I shook my head in protest.

“No, this is good. I don’t want to leave yet but I’m freezing.” I said and we both laughed while we looked out at the world before us. The wind whistled through the valley, making the trees undulate slowly side to side, the leaves rattling. This really was beautiful.

“I can see you’re still worried about fitting in here. I really hope you aren’t beating yourself up still.” He said quietly, resting his chin on top of my head.

“I’m not worried, really. After you put everything into perspective for me, it’s been easier to view things that way. I don’t think it’ll ever make me not sad, missing everything that I did. But I’m more content with being a part of the now and the future with all of you.” I said and squeezed him as I said the next part.

“Thank you, by the way, for being willing to be serious with me like that when you didn’t have to. I didn’t know I needed a friend like that so much until we talked that night.” I continued and he squeezed back, rubbing his hand up and down my spine. “And then again at the beach. You’ve been a really amazing friend.”

“Any time.” Was all he said before insisting we head back to camp, for fear I might freeze to death. The boys were just as we left them when we came walking up to them. Namjoon noticed us first, eyeing us as we detached from each other and took our spots back next to the fire. Jungkook kept his hand rubbing my back as he innocently sipped from his beer again trying to warm me up. Namjoon’s expression changed from concerned about where we had gone to confusion about how close we were. I almost laughed but didn’t want to embarrass him. It was cute to see just how protective of me he is even with one of his most trusted friends.

“Here Ryung-ssi, I made this for you while you were away.” Jimin plopped down on my other side and handed me a perfectly made smore. The marshmallow in it was running down his fingers and I flashed my eyes to his, finding them filled with pure joy. He broke me, the smile on his face was simply too blinding and made me crack the biggest smile id smiled in a long time and happily took the smore. I all but moaned in delight after biting a huge chunk out of it. The chocolate was melted, and the cracker was so crisp, warming my insides instantly as I swallowed and laughed at the jokes Jungkook and Jimin told.

I vowed then to be open to all of them. To be more willing to create new memories rather than focus on the ones that had already happened. I reminded myself of the reason I decided to leave with Namjoon and start something new for myself. The point was to branch out of my comfort zone, and I would never be able to do that if I got stuck in the past.

I turned to Jungkook and held out the smore to him, offering him a bite, to which he leaned in and bit a chunk out, chewing happily. The others were beginning to join us now, the fire dimming the later it got. At this point we’d all had our fair share of beers and had a pretty decent buzz going. I was so much more comfortable around all of them by the end of the night and found myself excited to wake up tomorrow to see all their smiling faces again.

It was starting to become quiet as the festivities began to come to an end. Jimin rested his head on Hobi’s shoulder while he snored softly and Jin swayed side to side to the music playing in the background, trying to stay awake. Namjoon was the first of us to stand and say goodnight. He kissed the top of my head as he passed on his way to his tent and the others followed suit until it was just Jungkook and I. Alone again, drinking the last of our beers.

“I don’t think I can finish this. Do you want it?” I asked him, holding the bottle out to him and he took it, tossing it back with ease. I giggled watching him and a hiccup escaped me, making him burst into his own fit of giggles. The alcohol obviously had raised our spirits. But then he stopped short and his features faded from a giggling kid to a smoldering smile as he stared at my face.

“What? Is there something on my face?” I asked and he laughed again before leaning closer to me, his face just a couple of inches from mine as he reached out to wipe something from my bottom lip with his thumb. My eyes fell to his mouth, watching intensely, as his tongue slipped out and licked the substance from his finger, my heart pounding all the while.

“Mmm, chocolate.” He was back to smiling as I swallowed hard and blushed again. Damn this man…I thought and smiled knowing my blush was covered by the burn in my cheeks the alcohol had already given them. “Ah, I think I’m starting to get tired.” He said and rubbed his eye with the back of his hand.

“Actually, I think I am too.” Together we helped each other up and he walked me to my tent before whispering goodnight to me so as not to wake the others, leaving me with a still pounding heart.

For an hour I lay in my sleeping bag, my body tensing so tight with the inability to warm myself up that I was beginning to ache, making it even harder to try to sleep. Not only that but my mind would not stop showing me the smile he’d given me earlier. I couldn’t tell if the goosebumps on my skin were from the way he licked the chocolate off his thumb or if It was just the cold. It was probably safe to say it was both. I shook my head and rolled over and pulled my phone out of my bag. I pressed the message button, hovering over Jungkook’s name. Would he mind if I texted him? What if he’s asleep?... I was feeling bold and cold and couldn’t stop thinking about how warm it was when we’d been standing at the cliff together, no fire around. The memory made me close my eyes and hum softly before tapping his name and sending him a text.

Me: Jungkookie-ah, are you still awake? I pushed send and waited anxiously.

Kookie: I am. Miss me already? xP

Me: Maybe. Do you think I could come to your tent? I can’t sleep, it’s too cold. My limbs are going to fall off. ☹

I held my breath, waiting for him to answer, mentally preparing myself for him to say no when he texted back.

Kookie: Well we don’t want that. Yeah, sure. 😊

“Yes!” I whispered under my breath and shot up out of my sleeping bag, wasting no time going to his tent and unzipping it. I peeked my head in, just to make sure I wasn’t bothering him. But he looked…well he looked amazing. His hoodie was off, and he wore only a black t-shirt, his arm behind his head made it look like his bicep was going to shred his sleeve as he scrolled through his phone with his free hand. I unzipped it the rest of the way and stepped in when he looked up, teeth chattering from being exposed to the wind on the way from my tent to his.

I shed my coat and kicked off my shoes and knelt beside him, regretting my choice in sleep attire. I was an idiot for packing night shorts and an old oversized t-shirt for a place like this. Laying his phone down he looked up at me and smiled.

“Hey.” He said softly and I smiled.

“Hey.” I responded through chittering teeth. He chuckled and moved over, opening his sleeping bag.

“Come here.” He said, in a way that made my blood boil in an unfamiliar way, and I obeyed, sliding in next to him, shivering. The wind outside howled as he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against him like he had on the cliff. I curled as close as I possibly could and melted against his chest. Bold indeed. I’m sure had it not been for the liquid courage we all had just downed; I wouldn’t have had the guts to even text him.

“Oh god, you’re so warm.” I huffed, resting my hands on his belly and nuzzling my nose against his chest. I realized I was probably crossing a line, but I couldn’t help myself. He was just so warm, and it was making my fingers tingle.

He laughed and rested his cheek on my head, pulling me tighter to him. “You really are cold. Ah, poor Princess.” He said, gently brushing his fingers through my hair. My eyes shot open and my stomach flipped with the familiar feeling of butterflies fluttering in my stomach when he called me the nick name again. I smiled looking up at him.

“I like when you call me that.” I admitted. Like I said, I was feeling bold as the world spun around me slightly. He looked taken aback for a moment before smiling in return.

“Then ill have to use it more often.” He said in a deep voice, his eyes searching my face. “Are you warm enough?” He asked, his warm breath flowing across my skin as he pulled the sleeping bag up over me more. I nodded yes and let my gaze drop from his eyes to his neck where I could feel the warmth radiating from his chest. He let out a soft smile and shook his head, looking down between us and whispered.

“Get some rest. Princess.” I could feel the low rumble in his chest as he chuckled softly, a sound I wanted to hear every day for the rest of my life.

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That night I dreamt of Jungkook. And Namjoon.

“Why are you touching my sister?!” Namjoon screamed in Jungkook’s face. His voice was warped and sounded far away. We stood in each other’s arms, Jungkook and I, on a familiar cliff at dusk. The sun was an unusual shade of orange and the sky around us was a mix of pink and purple. I let him go reluctantly and tried to help my brother relax.

“Hey, I understand you don’t like it but I’m not 15 anymore Joonie! You don’t get to decide for me.” I said and took his hands, which he slapped away. I could almost see the smoke coming out of his ears, he was so mad, stepping towards his friend.

“If you ever lay another finger on her-“Joonie started but Jungkook lunged forward, his voice strong and unforgiving.

“Or what!? Huh? What are you gonna do!?” He screamed back at my brother and shoved him. Namjoon stumbled backwards and reciprocated the shove by pushing Jungkook towards me.

“Im gonna kick your ass! You wunna fight!?” Jungkook stumbled into me hard, knocking me off my feet and my heart raced when my back didn’t hit the ground. I screamed as I grabbed the edge of the cliff mid fall so I wouldn’t drop to my death. I could feel the ragged edge of the rocks digging into my skin. I closed my eyes, afraid to see just how high up I was.

“Ryung!” I heard Jungkook yell and run to the edge to pull me back up. “Give me your hand. It’s ok. Just reach up slowly.” He cried to me from above and I tried to reach him. Behind him, Namjoon appeared, his eyes blood red with an evil grin on his face as he hovered over Jungkook.

“This is what you get for disappointing me.” He said to me, his voice twisting with another, the sound making my skin crawl. With one nudge of his foot, Namjoon sent Jungkook tumbling over the edge of the cliff.

“No! Jungkook-ah!” It took all my strength, but I reached out and grabbed his hand just in time, the weight of his body making my grip on the cliff slide a little and I screamed as I felt the skin on my palm rib off a little more, terrified that we would both fall.

“Ryung. Ryung, princess, listen to me. Please. Let go.” He begged of me.

“What?! No! Jungkook! I can’t do that!”

“RYUNG! LET GO!” He pleaded, the expression on his face full of pain and heartache. His hand was beginning to slip from mine, and I tried to grip harder, hyperventilating as he dangled underneath me. “Let go.” He said softly.

“Jungkook…” I said his name through a sob as though it would be the last time, tears blurring my vision.

“Let him fall. He’s not good enough for you anyway.” Namjoon said with dark undertones from above.

“I love you.” Jungkook whispered as he wriggled his hand free of mine and smiled, a tear falling down his cheek as his body plummeting to the earth.

“no...no, no, no, NO, NOOOOO!” I screamed as he got further and further away, his eyes never leaving mine, his body disappearing under the canopy of trees.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~I sat up rod straight, the darkness surrounding me only making me panic more as I gasped and tried to get a hold of my breathing.

“No! no!” I cried out into the tent as I crossed my arms over my chest, my breath hitching in my throat.

“What! What happened! Ryung! Hey, hey it’s alright. You’re alright!” Jungkook sat up in front of me and took my hands in his, squeezing them tight

“Jungkook-ah!” I cried out, unable to control my sobs as I leaned into him and wrapped my arms around his neck, squeezing him.

“Shhhh, you’re ok.” He soothed me, wrapping an arm around me while the other found my hair as he buried his fingers in it, pulling me close. “It’s ok, it was just a dream. You’re ok.”

He held me like this until my crying finally ceased, and he pulled me away just far enough to wipe my soggy cheeks.

“Are you ok?” He asked softly and I nodded, sniffling. I couldn’t look into his eyes. Though it was just a dream, the look of terror and love he’d worn in the dream was too powerful. Seeing him now, I feared, would only make me cry more.

“Was it that bad?” He asked, rubbing my back. I nodded.

“It seemed so real…” I whispered into the night.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked and I shook my head violently, crashing myself back against his chest.

“It’s early enough now we could probably get some breakfast.” He said and I squeezed him tighter shaking my head again, not ready to let him go yet. “I could make you som- “

“No!” I started a little too aggressively. “I mean, I’m sorry, just…not yet. Please?” I asked as calmly as I could and he held me tighter, laying us down.

“Don’t be sorry Princess. Take as much time as you need.” I balled his shirt up in my fists until my heart calmed enough.

“Thank you. I’m sorry if I scared you. And I’m sorry for waking you.” The sun was finally rising over the horizon, illuminating the inside of the tent. I took the sign of light as an invitation to look up at Jungkook’s face. It, of course, was flawless. His lips were full and pink and cast a perfect shadow over the beauty mark under them. It would be perfect if I kissed him right now…

AH. Ryung-ssi! Stupid girl, what are you doing? Kiss him? You’ve only known him for like 2 weeks, what the hell are you talking about?!

“You’re staring.” The sound of his voice in the quiet of the tent made me jump slightly and I looked down, which wasn’t any better of an idea. I could see the of curve his neck better this way as he chuckled lightly, as well as the sharpness of his jaw. So much space to lay just a couple kisses along…No! Stop it. What is wrong with you?

I cleared my throat and scurried out of his arms, hurrying to stand and collect the items id brought with me from my tent. He looked up at me confused and worried but I was certain that the effects of the alcohol were still with me.

“Ryung, its ok that you were staring…I was only picking on you, I’m sorry.” He said as he sat up and tried to reach out for me, but I was already unzipping the door to the tent.

“What? No, don’t be sorry. I just um…I’m…ready for breakfast now is all. I wanted to go change first. Thank you, for letting me hang out here last night and all that. See you in a little bit?” I rushed through my words as I dropped my phone and bent to pick it up, awkwardly backing out of the tent.

“Ryung-ssi. Ryung! Hey, wait. Aaisshh.” He tried calling to me.

“I’ll see you at breakfast.” I called back, leaving him alone in the tent. When I got back to my own tent, I took a deep breath and shook my head, running a hand through my hair.

“Jesus, Ryung…What the hell is wrong with me?”

I decided id start breakfast for the boys and got to work mixing pancake mix in a shiny metal bowl and tended to the coffee. Jin was first to join me. I smiled at his disheveled appearance as he approached me and sat at the picknick table. I sat the first mug in front of him and the bowl of sugar id set aside for cooking.

“It’s nice to know I’m not the only one that likes to rise early. Good morning Ryung-ssi.” Jin greeted me, the last part of his sentence in English.

“I normally don’t. Joonie can account for that.” I started and laughed as I picked the bowl of mix back up and ladled some onto the skillet. “Good morning to you too, Jin.”

“Would you like some help?” He offered but I smiled, bowed, and thanked him for offering, and got back to preparing the food.

Soon all of them were up and zombie-ing their way to the breakfast table, where I’d made them all plates already.

“Mmm, I knew I smelled my sister’s bacon.” Joonie was the last of the men to join me outside. A flash of him with Red orbs and a demonic smile from my dream made my own smile falter as I dropped my glass of orange juice on the ground, shattering it.

“Shit!” I whispered under my breath and bent to pick up the pieces. “I’m so sorry. Did I get your foot Jimin?” I asked worriedly and he shook his head, bending to help me.

“No. You didn’t. Don’t be sorry, it’s fine. Be careful.” He said and pat the top of my head. The others didn’t spare me a glance after asking if I was ok and kept talking, for which I was grateful.

“Are you ok Ry?” Namjoon asked and I avoided eye contact with him as I stood and turned away to throw the glass into an extra paper bag we had around.

“What? Yeah! No, I’m great.” Before I could get the last piece into the bag, he grabbed my elbow gently turning me to face him.

“Are you sure?” He asked as I jumped and gasped from his touch, accidently squeezing the glass shard in my hand. I held back my response to the pain and nodded.

“Ryung…what’s going on with you?” He asked as he let go of me and put his hands up, his brows furrowing with confusion. I also caught a glimpse of hurt in his eyes and I tried to calm my features.

Ryung...WHAT ARE YOU DOING? He’s your brother! This isn’t a dream!

I closed my eyes and stepped into him, wrapping one of my arms around him. He curled me into his chest and squeezed.

“Nothings going on, I’m so sorry. I just didn’t sleep very well last night and its been a busy morning. I’m just a little frazzled. I think I’m going to take a little walk.” I said as I pulled away from him and smiled, the pain in my hand becoming too much to hide now as I took off away from the others.

Once I got far enough away, I let out a whimper and opened my hand, revealing the shard of glass as I pulled it from my skin.

“Fuck…” I whispered under my breath as blood started oozing out of my palm and onto the ground beneath.

“I brought the first-aid kit.” The voice behind me was fast approaching and I spun around, hiding my hand behind my back.

“Hey, relax. Its just me.” Hoseok came walking between the trees and stuck his hands out in front of him to let me know It was ok. “I saw the glass in your hand. Are you ok?” He asked and I nodded. He made a face like he knew I was lying and held his hand out. “Right. Come on, let’s see it.” He demanded with a loving smile and I held out my palm to him. He sucked in a sharp breath through exposed teeth and shook his head.

“Ooo, ouch.” Reaching into the kit he pulled out some band aids and asked me to hold them. Then he opened a water bottle from his pocket and slowly poured water over the wound. It stung and I hissed, biting my bottom lip. “I know, love. I know.” He spoke gently and I looked up at his face while he worked. Hobi was older than some of the others but he certainly didn’t look it. His skin was just as porcelain and perfect as the others and his hair was a healthy chocolate brown. I think his eyes are what caught me most whenever I looked at him. He was just as handsome.

“You have very kind eyes.” The words were leaving my lips before I even realized I was saying them at all, and he looked up at me surprised for just a moment.

“uw, really? Thank you, that’s very sweet of you to say Ryung-ssi.” He smiled and continued with his work on my hand.

“You’re welcome.” I replied, swallowing my embarrassment.

“I think this should do it.” Hobi said, and straightened up, happy with his work as he looked it over. I had accepted the fact that the others would ask when I got back what had happened, the gauze pad Hobi had wrapped around my hand being all the evidence they would need to assume something had. It really needed it though. The cut was deep and right down the middle of my palm, pulsing with heat.

“Thank you Hobi. I owe you.” I said, inspecting my hand to make sure everything was covered.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” He asked and I shot my eyes up to him. I hadn’t told Jungkook, neither had I told Joonie, but I felt like I needed to get it off my chest in order to feel better. I sighed and let my head drop, my fingers messing with the fabric of my sleeve.

“I had a bad dream last night. It was me, Jungkook and Joonie and…well…Jungkook and I were…” I scuffed my heal into the ground and blushed, realizing there was more to this dream that I hadn’t thought about yet. “Hugging. And…Joonie was upset about it. Like really upset about it. To the point where he and Jungkook were fighting. Not to mention we were standing on a cliff. I’ve never seen Joonie so mad before. He was evil in this dream. His eyes were red, and he had this crazy evil smile on his face and there was shoving and threats. He was ruthless and violent and pushed Jungkook and I over the edge and…” I trailed off, my eyes zeroing in on the ground at Hobi’s feet.

“And Jungkook and you have been getting close these past couple weeks and you’re afraid Namjoon is going to be mad that you like him?” Hoseok filled in gaps I hadn’t even thought about being empty. I flashed my eyes up to him, unsure of what my answer to that was. He just nodded and stepped closer, pulling me into a gentle hug.

“Aiish, you kids. You don’t need to worry about that. Namjoon wants you to be happy. That’s all he’s ever wanted. Honestly, I’m positive if he knew you like Jungkook, he would be the first to set you guys up together.” He chuckled and pulled away from me, ruffling my hair.

“Come on. Let’s go eat before they start to worry that we’ve run off and eloped together.” He teased, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as I hit his chest with the back of my hand.

“HOBI!” I hugged him as he laughed and scrunched his face playfully, making our way back to camp. He always had a way of making me smile. I made a mental note to get him something nice for taking care of me, as we made our way back to our little family.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ah, my lovelies! 💕 Welcome back! This was fun to write 🙂 I think their moment in the tent is really sweet. I’m not sure there’s anything cuter than snuggling in a tent trying to get warm haha anyway, I hope you enjoy. I’m sorry it’s so long haha

I also hope you’re having a good day or night wherever you are in this world🌏🌍🌎. And remember guys! Know that you are so loved by so many! Our boys love us! And I love you Army!❤️ Fighting!

[leez-ha]

Runnin’

Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2030

Author’s Note: I had deleted this fic in a fit of insecurity and sadness but I recovered and finished it today. I like it- I think it’s cute. The link is to the song. I really love it. Highly suggest listening when the song comes up in the fic

https://youtu.be/KoJW3ob0Xt8

You had to admit, you were a little bit tipsy. After a particularly aggravating vampire hunt- all evidence said no more than five or six bloodsuckers, but that turned into a dozen. They made sure only half the nest hunted in town, while the other half stayed with their victims, or traveled along the highway near the abandoned factory they were was set up in.

You had gotten tossed around quite a bit, Dean came to your rescue after you were snuck up on while distracted by two others. After getting thrown across the room into a metal table, you watched the smirking face fall to the ground.

Dean teased you a bit- saying how you lost your touch- but Sam gave you a break, considering the two you were distracted by were double your size. While Dean was stitching a long gash on your arm, you were already drinking a bit- numbing the pain and all.

After he stitched you up, the casual flirting you two often found yourselves in subsided, as Sam stepped into the room, looking ready for bed- in sweatpants and a white undershirt. “Aw, Sammy? You aren’t gonna come to the bar with us?” You pouted. You knew that if left unsupervised, drunk you could be… A handful, to say the least. It’s not like you were planning to get drunk, but Sam’s usually the one to keep you under wraps. You and Dean were very much competitive drinkers, and it was usually a close battle. Sam shook his head, “I’m beat, (Y/N), you’re gonna have to try and be responsible for your own drinking limit for once.” He grinned as you stuck your tongue out at him. “No fair! Dean’s already got me fuzzy so I didn’t flinch that much while stitchin’ my damn arm.” Your nose scrunched up, and you crossed your arms as dramatically as you could, given how one was freshly stitched and all. Both the brothers laughed, and you tried to stay stern, but broke into a fit of giggles alongside them. “Fine, but you’re no fun.”

As you stood, you slowly peeled off the rest of your ruined flannel. To stitch your arm, Dean had just cut off the sleeve, as the air conditioning was stuck on full blast. You threw on an old band shirt, and a hoodie, and put your hair up in a loose bun. You were going to drink, not get lucky. You grabbed Dean’s arm, and headed out the door. Luckily the bar was just across the street from the motel, so the walk in the cool night air was quick.

There were a few more people than you would’ve liked, mainly kids from the community college, as it was a Friday. It was extra loud due to the karaoke set up on the stage where bands would usually play. You had to admit, you grinned. Singing was a thing you always loved, but you knew you wouldn’t have the energy or courage to get up there. Might be a hell of a hunter, but no way would you sing in front of a crowd of drunk townies. Hell, you never even sang in front of the boys- humming and singing softly along to Dean’s cassettes in the car didn’t count. Speaking of Dean, you stopped staring at the karaoke machine when you felt eyes on you. The both of you had sat down at the bar, and you would’ve expected him to be trying to get lucky with the bartender, but he was looking at you, a warm smile on his face. You felt your cheeks heating up, and gladly accepted your usual drink that Dean had already ordered. “What?” You questioned, looking away. He just chuckled, and shook his head. “Oh nothin’.” He chuckled again, and you hit his arm lightly, “Dean.” He motioned toward the stage, “(Y/N), you’re staring at the microphone up there like you did when we had to burn the haunted piano.” You frowned, remembering that hunt. Sure, it was straightforward and short, but you had to burn a beautiful antique piano, and couldn’t even play it first, as anyone who did, their brains would leak out through their ears. “Man, that was a gorgeous piano. I wish more than anything I had the chance to play it…” You muttered, taking a drink. “My point exactly. Sammy and I both know you love to sing, so get up there and sing. I can’t stand listening to these wasted sorority girls shrieking anymore.”

You looked at him like he grew a second head, “are you kidding?! I don’t sing in front of people. Besides, I doubt they have any good songs.” You tried to ignore Dean’s puppy dog eyes- even though they weren’t as good as Sam’s you could rarely resist the pout on his full lips. Catching yourself staring at him mouth, you looked away quickly, heat rising to your cheeks. “C’mon (Y/N/N), please?” He asked, leaning in closer to you. Turning back toward him, you were surprised to see his face mere inches from yours, his pout in full force. You tried to act annoyed, but the microscopic grin on your face didn’t go unnoticed. “Maybe.” You said simply, as another girl took the stage.

It was a few drinks later, and the karaoke machine was left untouched for a few minutes. You had been working up the courage to get up there since Dean’s pouting, but just couldn’t do it. You asked the bartender if she knew the songs on the machine, and she replied with “pretty much every song. You can find karaoke of it online, you can play it on the machine.” This answer was both good and awful, because that meant you could sing one of your favourites, which wasn’t all that well known, and also meant you had no excuse to not get up there. Dean had heard your exchange with the bartender and the smile on his face was a little too wide for your liking. Giving him a small frown, you finished off your drink. “Okay, Dean. Tell you what. What will I get if I get up there and embarrass the fuck outta myself?” You questioned, hoping for something like a big breakfast tomorrow morning. He chuckled, “whatever you want, sweetheart.” Now it wasn’t the answer you had expected, but you shrugged. “Fine.” The look of excitement on his face made you chuckle as you made your way to the stage. The guy in charge of the karaoke machine looked up from his phone, and gave you a smile, but you could see he figured you were just another drunk sorority girl. You gave him the song name, and got up on stage.

“Steel to my trembling lips, how did the night ever get like this?

One shot and the whiskey goes down, down, down.

Bottom of the bottle hits, waking up my mind as I throw a fit.

The breakin’ is takin’ me down, down, down”

You finished the first part staring at the ground. You were more than surprised to hear the general bar noise to quiet down a bit, causing you to look up as you continued the song.

“My heart’s beating faster

I know what I’m after

I’ve been standing here my whole life

Everything I seen twice

Now it’s time I realised

It’s spinnin’ back around now

On this road I’m crawlin’

Save me ‘cause I’m fallin’

Now I can’t seem to breathe right”

As you got into it, more of the bar quieted down, which kind of terrified you, but also caused your confidence to increase. You searched the bar for Dean, who you found right before you started singing the next line. You locked eyes with your friend, who was watching you intensely, as if his forest green eyes only saw you.

“Cause I keep runnin’ runnin’, runnin’, runnin’

Runnin’, runnin’, runnin’, runnin’

Runnin’ from my heart

Round and round I’d go

Addicted to the numb living in the cold

the higher, the lower, the down, down, down

Sick of being tired and sick

And ready for another kind of fix

The damage is damnin’ me down, down, down

My heart’s beating faster

I know what I’m after”

You could feel the emotion build up in your chest as you sang, not wanting to face the lyrics you so very much connected to.

“I’ve been standing here my whole life

Everything I seen twice

Now it’s time I realised

It’s spinnin’ back around now

On this road I’m crawlin’

Save me ‘cause I’m falling

Now I can’t seem to breathe right

‘Cause I keep runnin’, runnin’, runnin,’ runnin’

Runnin’ runnin’, runnin’, runnin’,

Runnin’ from my heart”

A small smile crept onto your face

“Oh, I’m coming alive

Oh, I’ll wake up now and live

Oh, I’m coming alive

A life that’s always been a dream

I’ll wake up now and live, oh!

I’ve been standing here my whole life

Everything I seen twice

Now it’s time I realised

On this road I’m crawlin’

Save me ‘cause I’m falling

Now I can’t seem to breathe right

‘Cause I keep runnin’, runnin’, runnin,’ runnin’

Runnin’ runnin’, runnin’, runnin’,

Runnin’ from my heart

‘Cause I keep runnin’, runnin’, runnin,’ runnin’

Runnin’ runnin’, runnin’, runnin’,

Runnin’ from my heart”

As you finished the song, the bar erupted into cheering, and you felt your face grow warm. As you took a few deep breaths, you handed the microphone to the man in charge, and walked off the stage, multiple people crowding around you, wanting to talk to the girl who crushed all the other people who did karaoke. The table of sorority girls looked angry as they sipped their frilly drinks, and you laughed, as you waded through the crowd, thanking people who complimented you.

Finally you made your way to Dean, who was staring at you with a look you couldn’t place. “What, was it bad?” You asked, and he immediately shook his head. “(Y/N/N)… That was amazing.” You felt your cheeks redden and simply shrugged, thanking the bartender who had gotten you a bottle of water with a nod. You paid your bill and motioned for Dean to follow you into the parking lot- you couldn’t stand the loudness of the bar any longer.

“That’s not normally my kinda music but goddamn.” He said, as you both exited into the cool, crisp night air. “I like that song. I can relate to it.” Your words were soft as you avoided eye contact. “What are you running from, (Y/N/N)?”

Dean’s words were soft, but you heard them echoing in your ears. You felt a rough hand on your face, turning so you faced him. You fought the urge to catch his gaze but gave in quickly. His eyes were full of emotion that you hadn’t seen there before- or did you?

It reminded you of when you got hurt on a hunt, and Dean rushed to you, making sure you were okay, and immediately teasing you if it wasn’t serious, or a mistake on your part- such as meatheaded vamps getting the better of you. It was the look that you sometimes thought you saw as you rest your head on his shoulder after a long day, catching his eyes right before drifting off. The look that you thought you imagined when you turned toward him suddenly, and he would immediately look away.

“You.” The words were barely audible as your brows furrowed, your eyes saddening. Dean was your friend. Best friend. Nothing more, you told yourself. Somehow, he heard them and gave the sweetest smile you’d ever seen. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to run.” He lifted your face, tucking hair that had fallen from your loose bun behind your ear. He leaned forward, stopping just before his lips met yours. “Is this okay?” You more felt the words than you heard them, as the air passed over your lips. Wrapping your arms around him, you nodded. Your lips connected, and you felt your heart trying to get away, trying to protect itself. But you wouldn’t run anymore.

[buckybabybaby]

Everything Backwards (Chapter 6/12)

Summary: When you make-out with a ‘James’ on a night out, you don’t expect to see him again, so imagine your surprise the next day when it turns out he’ll be your new sort-off-flat-mate. As Nanny for Peggy & Steve’s three children, you’ve lucked out, but now the guy across the corridor is threatening to ruin it. 

This is the story of how it all works out.

Chapter 6 summary: Bucky goes to his meeting, and meets Sam! Followed by cuteness in the park.

A/n: Crisps = 'chips’/'potato chips’, for American-English readers ;)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader (gender neutral) Slow Burn.

Word count: 1918

Warnings: A couple of swear words, nervous Bucky :( not much else.

Previous: Chapter 5

Everything Backwards Masterlist | Masterlist

Compared to some of the children you have nannied, these are absolute angels. Minor tantrums are quickly resolved, there has only been a couple of times food has been refused at dinner and the way toys are put away after playtime is remarkable. Basically, you’ve struck gold with this family. 

So when they’re all dressed, coats and shoes done up, waiting by the front door ready to take Bucky to his meeting, and you have to go searching for him in order to leave, it all feels the wrong way round. Calling out his name into the quiet house, you get no reply. Looking at your watch you notice that if you don’t leave soon you’ll be late so when you find him thirty seconds later you’re relieved. 

He’s sat on his bed, fully dressed, and you cringe at his shoes on the duvet, but the look on his face stops you from commenting.

“Are you, er, ready?”

His breathing is slightly laboured and he half shrugs, licking his lips and letting his head fall back against the pillows.

“I’m not sure I want to go.” Your heart breaks at his voice, small and childlike.

“Oh. Okay.” You wish you knew what to tell him.

“I got dressed up and everything.” He had. Very nicely. His hair is neatly brushed, and you didn’t even realise he had glasses until just now, eyes wide behind the frames as he takes shallow breaths. “I was all up for it an hour ago but now… Fuck, I’m being pathetic.”

“You’re not being pathetic. Don’t ever think that.” You duck down to meet his gaze when he glances at the floor. “How about this? We go, and if when we arrive you still don’t feel like going in we just go to the park and try again next week.”

He considers your compromise for a couple of seconds. “That sounds, er,” he sits up, wiping his palms against his trousers, “That sounds alright. I’ll probably be fine when I get there.”

“I’m sure you will. Come on.” You hold your hand out to lead him, and almost immediately drop it when you realise what you’ve done, leaving the room too quickly to see if he noticed. But the teasing smile on his face when he slides into the passenger seat suggests he did.

Finding a parking space outside the VA is thankfully easy and you’re switching off the engine with ten minutes to spare. Along the way you could sense Bucky growing quieter, his answers to the children’s questions getting shorter and his body shrinking further into the seat. Once again the urge to hug him strikes you. 

You’re trying to think of something encouraging to say when a movement on the other side of the street catches your attention.

“Is that..?” You turn to Bucky and ask him to watch the kids for a second before jumping out of the car.

“Sam!” You really hope it is him as you shout across the road. He turns and you laugh in relief when he replies.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

“Long time no see right?” He’s crossed to stand in front of you and you wrap your arms round him like you had so many times in high school. The two of you had shared quite a few classes during the last years and had become very close, even attending prom together as friends, but when he joined the air force and was hardly ever in the country it was harder to keep in touch.

“This is crazy, I didn’t know you lived in the city? Last time we talked you were working down by the coast.”

“I got a new position, looking after these cherubs.” You gesture to the three children in the back seats, who are watching the interaction inquisitively. Sam smiles at them and the two oldest look unsure how to respond. Joe, however, waves back sweetly.

“What are you up to these days?”

He points to the building opposite. “I work here now. Mentoring other veterans has made dealing with my own issues a lot easier.”

You had heard about Sam’s wingman being lost in combat a while ago. Riley was also in your year, and, even though you didn’t really mix with him much you knew his death was a loss to the world.

“I’m so sorry, Sam.” He shrugs and thanks you, before you remember what you were there for.

“Oh! If you work at the VA, you must know about Bucky, or James, maybe. It’s his first time today.” You walk to the other side of the car and open the door. Bucky is sat with his eyes closed, muttering to himself, and he clearly didn’t notice you approach judging by the way he jumps violently when you call his name.

“Sorry! It’s okay, just me. This is Sam.”

“Hello, James.” Sam waits for him to step out of the car before shaking his hand. “Glad you finally felt you could come.”

“Yeah, well,” he straightens his jacket awkwardly, “I still feel nervous. Is that normal?”

“Completely. Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour.” Bucky seems a little less tense as he follows Sam over to the steps up to the door. Just as he’s about to ascend, Bucky turns back to you but you anticipate his words.

“Give me a call when you’re done, I’ll be nearby.”

With a nod and a small smile he disappears from sight.

A shadow falls over the picnic table you’re sat at, and you look up to find the guy you were just about to message standing in front of you.

“I thought I told you I’d pick you up?” Bucky gracefully folds himself into the seat next to you.

“I didn’t what to trouble you, you and the children. The weathers so nice I guessed they’re wouldn’t appreciate being disturbed.”

He places a paper bag on the bench and starts pulling sandwiches and crisps out of it.

“Er..?” You must look as confused as you feel.

“Lunch,” he explains. “It’s the least I could do after you all got up early during the holidays just for me.”

“I’m sure they don’t mind.” You motion towards the play park where Sarah’s yellow top makes her easy to spot. You both watch her rush down the slide, too close behind her brothers and causing a pile up at the bottom, but no one appears bothered.

“It’s to thank you, too. After the things I’ve said, you’d have been completely within your rights to refuse to help me.”

“I hope you don’t think I’d be that petty?”

“The way I’ve acted, it wouldn’t be petty at all.” He’s finished taking items out of the bag and turns fully towards you. His eyes look incredibly blue in the sunshine and you can’t look away.

“I feel like I have to apologise for a lot. I was going through some shit when we first met, in the club, I mean.” 

You will yourself not to flush. 

“I still am. But that was obviously just before I moved in, and, I don’t know, it was sort of a 'last night of freedom’, or maybe it was a goodbye to the life I had before? Who knows. The people I lived with weren’t exactly the best influence, I definitely 'partied’ too much during that time. Anyway, that’s not who I normally am, and I don’t know why I was so rude the next day. I thought, well,” he runs a hand through his hair as he thinks. 

“I have no idea what I thought would come of that. And not letting Steve and Peggy know we had already met was only me being selfish because I told them I stayed home that night. It was wrong of me to suggest it was unprofessional of you. I don’t know what the fuck I meant by that. If I could do it over again, please know I wouldn’t be such a dick. Sorry.”

You gape at him when he finishes. No one’s ever given you an apology quite like that and you’re totally overwhelmed. Before you can think of an appropriate reply you’re interrupted by the arrival of three small children who’ve sensed food. Helping Joe with the straw for his drink, and stopping Michael from starting on the cookies first, you wait until they are all happily distracted before facing Bucky again.

“I’ve been pretty awful to you too, horrible really, so if you’re willing, start over?”

“Yeah? I’d like that.”

You hold out your hand and he shakes it. Under the summer sky in the most beautiful park the city has to offer, it feels like a new beginning and you’re excited for the future.

“You’ve only just eaten, I’m not sure funfair rides are the best idea,” you try to reason, however the teacups and Ferris Wheel spinning in the corner of the field are too appealing. 

Bucky doesn’t help. “You’ve not lived 'til you’ve made yourself sick on the carousel, though, right?”

You shake your head with a laugh, watching as the children cheer and race over to choose which horse they want to ride on. You have to call them back to attach the wrist bands you’ve just bought to them, and then take a seat by the candy floss machine, content to let them spin themselves silly. 

Bucky sits next to you and you accept the doughnut he offers you.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, naturally, but, how was your meeting?” 

You’ve been dying to know all day but aren’t going to force this new-found friendship if it makes him uncomfortable. He chews on his own sugary treat as he considers your question.

“A lot easier than I thought it would be.” He doesn’t elaborate and you don’t push it.

“I’m very glad. So, same time next week?”

“Yeah, I guess. Sam’s cool.”

You giggle. “Sam’s the coolest, I’m sure you’ll get along well.”

He nods, the slightly distorted music from the dodgem ride the only noise between you before he speaks again.

“You don’t have to take me next time.”

Frowning you ask, “Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s quite early, it’ll be too-”

“Don’t worry about that. You know what children are like, up before the sun most days so it’s not going to be a problem at all.”

He looks half convinced. “Only if you’re sure.”

“Absolutely. Now, who do you think will regret the swing boats first? Sarah, Michael, or Joe?”

After walking round the park in the fresh air for half an hour to make sure no one’s feeling ill any more, you finally get back in the car and start the journey home. It’s been a much longer day than you planned, what with the gift of lunch, and the two youngest looked like they were about to fall asleep when you buckled them in. A glance in the rear view mirror confirms your suspicions. 

You go to nudge Bucky because they look so cute cuddled up together, and have to hold in a snort of laughter when you see he’s also unconscious, leaning back against his head rest. His hair, which has been blown around by the wind all day, is falling softly around his slightly flushed face, and he looks more peaceful than you’ve ever seen him. 

If you spend a good half minute staring before starting the car, well, you’re sure Sarah didn’t notice.

Chapter 7

A/n: Sarah absolutely noticed.

Also, I think the reason Bucky was so tired he fell asleep in the car is cause he’s been up half the night worrying :( suffer in the thought of that with me!

Tagging: @tieddown-withbattleshipchains @i-had-a-life-once

 @attorneyl @superwholockian5ever

@scamandaaaamn

@bohemianrhapsodaisychains

@the-renaissance

@davros2004

@sergeant-james-bbarnes

@sebastianst-n

@marvel-trash07

@wantingtobekorra

@summerbummer2001

If I’ve forgotten you, or you want to be tagged/untagged, please just ask! Tumblr tagging sucks, so if anyone wants me to send it as a private message, I’d be more than happy to do that! <3

[s-o-n-de-r]

Years in transit: Against the Current in Boston and a reflection on music, moods, and seasons

Note: Rarely, I opt to publish personal pieces in place of sonder’s traditional editorial content. With this, however, I wanted to revisit a show I already wrote about in an expansive retrospective that deals with music journalism and auto-biographical elements. Thanks for reading - Andrew

If you’re a regular sonder reader, you probably noticed something out-of-place last November when, out of the blue, I published features from a show in Boston that pop-rock band Against the Current played. Boston? Weird, considering sonder is based in south Florida, and that’s where the majority of the site’s content comes from. Right?

Actually, despite being sun-soaked for the past 17 years, I have northern blood running in me. Massachusetts is my home; roots I can’t ignore. I grew up in a small town called Grafton, toward the center of the state. Grafton is the epitome of small town, pacified New England: Quiet, wooded, outskirt suburbia rolls over a few creeks bridged by old stone masonry to our town center, a picturesque square with a gazebo, new stores in old buildings, and one of the local churches. 

The Grafton part of my life feels like a long time ago. It mostly just exists as dust and cobwebs filling rarely-explored corners in my memories. Scattered in those cobwebs are pieces of small town New England in the 1990s, a decade that already feels hauntingly distant, lost in the blurry whirlwind of time. My childhood home was a two-story house on a massive corner lot with a hill in the backyard. All that space and gradient land meant I got to have fun as a kid. When it was autumn, I’d sprawl across a pile of crunchy brown and orange leaves I had assembled from the side yard. When it was winter, I’d get to rocket down the back slope on a sled or build up little forts with the huge snow banks that would accrue. During summer, the air was so clear and refreshing. The family would go to Swirls and Scoops, the local ice cream place, or Art Bradish Snack Bar, the local cheap and tasty dinner indulgence. They still make the crispiest chicken sandwich I’ve ever had.

Summer was always so pleasant and mild, with rich greens cascading across lawns. There was a huge tree at the corner of our property, surrounded by a half-circle of piled stones (who knew who put these here?), and that was prime territory for hanging out with my friends. All these little details kind of tumble around in my head when I think of Grafton. I relish them. Chances are, you have your own set of memories like these, and once in a while you might come upon them and bathe in their familiarity and warmth. Because that’s what nostalgia does – it comforts you, no matter if it’s accurate.

“It's been a minute

Everything's the same, but different”

Against the Current, “One More Weekend” / a song about re-visiting things and people in your past and tapping the well of nostalgia

After being transplanted from the north to the south in the middle of my childhood, I rolled with the punches (”the punches” being Florida). When you move from a place like Grafton – or, as I imagine, nearly any town defined by rich, varied culture – to the endless sprawl of southwest Florida, it’s a stark change of scenery. If Grafton was authenticity, then southwest Florida was shtick. In Grafton, we celebrate colonial history. In Fort Myers, we celebrate developing condos.

The mental weight of these differences on me never really showed up until my trips back to my home town in recent years when I realized, almost all at once, how much I missed it. Of course, that’s unsurprising. I was nine when we moved, and as a kid, you’re generally not acutely aware of how huge life changes like that can affect you on a deeper level. I was just sad that I had to leave my small number of friends.

But, I realized later the old cliché of “home is where the heart is” screamed in my face. Cliché, as it turns out, is overused for a reason. Who would have thought? I didn’t realize until my young adult years that, while I have many pleasant memories of New England, I had next to no similar memories in Fort Myers. In Fort Myers, no matter how hard I tried, nothing felt as close and tight-knit as things did in Grafton. Most of my good memories in Florida are, rightfully, from concerts I’ve been to or photographed.

Despite the build-up, there isn’t some overly dramatic point to be made here. Florida is where sonder has been built. It’s where I run into people at shows who recognize me and chat with me. It’s where I’ve met all my peers in concert photography. It’s where you, my readers, have said you like what we do. It’s where everything happens for this site. There’s a couple blocks in downtown Orlando, stretching from The Social to Backbooth, where sonder has basically been nurtured. I could recite half the restaurants and bars in that area and probably identify which brick goes where. It’s where I’ve photographed and interviewed bands for years.

That’s a general rule of thumb, anyway. Sometimes, when I get bad wanderlust, I end up far away. The most extreme example of this was when I was traipsing around the east coast for 13 total dates of Vans Warped Tour 2012. Going to many Warped Tour shows during the same year means you get to explore the detail in what that tour does, and it was in Connecticut when I met up with a young band named Against the Current. They weren’t playing. They were just hanging out. And it was during their early days: They were still a five-piece and only had one song (“Thinking”) and a cover out under their own name (both released the same day). I met them all, but spent most of my time talking to singer Chrissy Costanza before leaving, knowing that, at the very least, it would be a long while before I saw them again. The debut song was good. Good enough to get a footing, anyway, although in retrospect, you can really tell how the band has progressed. But this is the case for pretty much any new band, isn’t it?

Despite those glitches in the Matrix, Florida is mostly where sonder operates. But Florida could never come close to the feeling I feel from Grafton, or from Massachusetts in general. I have a love for the whole region. The northeast. New England. Etc. Amazingly, though, I had never really been to the seat of what makes New England, New England: Boston.

I wanted to change that last summer when I was spending a lengthy amount of time in Massachusetts on vacation (and, incidentally, feeling intimately re-connected to my home). So, being the day tripper I often am, I got a ride to the local MBTA station (our commuter rail, referred to as “The T”) and took a train to the coastal metropolis for the day. I watched my home roll by me in a blur as I explored Paramore’s self-titled album, and now, whenever I hear the positive chords of “Daydreaming,” I think of that trip. Cheerfully apt. And now, cherished.

It was one of those pleasant New England summer days, right in the dead of tourist season, so there was a lot going on. I ate, had a beer in the oldest tavern in America, visited the Holocaust memorial, and took lots of photos, as I often do. I didn’t seek much out. Instead, I let the atmosphere come to me instead – a mark of the fly-on-the-wall behavior in me that’s part nature, part journalistic nurture. My goal for that day was to get to know the place, even just a little. It was just a day, though, and I didn’t think I’d be returning for a long time.

I went back to Florida. Summer ended, but before I knew it, a family emergency had brought me back up in mid-November – the first time I was returning during fall since I was a little kid. The first shock I had was at 5:30 a.m. in the parking lot of a hotel in Delaware. It was 32 degrees outside, I had my tank top on from the previous day (because it was around 85 when we left Florida), and I was dying just to get into the car and hit the seat warmer button. Brr. I blame Florida for thinning my blood. I always blame Florida. Smooth.

See, part of the chaos in my head that Florida has nurtured is inability to cope with non-sunny weather. Even in Florida, I’m the type of person who will be in the dumps all day if I wake up and it’s raining. I’m embarrassingly sensitive to this stuff. And it’s because I’ve lived most of my life in a place that, for the most part, just shines.

So you can see potential problems about returning to Massachusetts during the tail end of fall. Which, don’t get me wrong, I was enthusiastic to see. It had been 17 years since I had seen a proper autumn, with leaves falling off of the trees and forests turning into splotches of brown and orange. We were going up toward the end of the season, so the vivid colors were less common, but some of it was still around. And just this change of pace and scenery allowed me to reconnect more with my New England nostalgia, something I desperately wanted. As of late, I feel like I’ve been floating through a perpetual identity crisis, so feeling connected to who I really am was cathartic. And there is some innate soul nourishment in New England autumns, from going to apple orchards to feeling the crisp, cool air to finding a cup of hot chocolate the most relaxing thing at the end of the day.

Rural Massachusetts under the cover of late autumn

Florida is a land of perpetual daytime and perpetual bloom. Even in December, our days are long, hot and super sunny. Now, me and my sensitive little self were heading straight into color-drabbed cold bookended by perpetually-encroaching darkness.

If you’re unfamiliar with the concept of seasonal affective disorder (the “S.A.D.” acronym is just life smiling down at us), here’s the crash course: It’s a psychological thing where the shorter, darker, colder days of winter basically hit the “on” switch for temporary depression. Now, remember those bits about how Florida doesn’t prepare you for different weather and how sensitive I am?

Yeah. Connect the dots.

The first day we got to Douglas (the rustic town where we were staying, not far from Grafton) after our drive up, I fell asleep at around 10 p.m., which is a record for a recovering night owl. I collapsed straight into a deep, blunt sleep, and when I woke up at around 9:30 a.m. the next day, I barely had any energy. H-E-L-L-O, S.A.D.

This is all a little gloomy and is partly exaggerated for the sake of narrative. But, you know, if I can deal with Florida for 17 years, I can deal with some blues for the week I was there. That week, by the way, happened to criss-cross with the touring schedule of Against the Current, who would play their very first show of their latest headlining tour in no place other than Boston. I didn’t even realize the coincidence until I was already up in Massachusetts, and if I wasn’t catatonic, it probably would have excited me more.

As you know, I first met them in 2012, and here I was four years and some months later, ready to see them headline a tour in support of their first album on a label. A lot happened in those four years – again, I knew I wouldn’t be seeing them for a while after my first meeting, but it was in late 2014 when they finally came down to the sunshine state.

I brought my camera to that show and have since managed to see them at every show in Florida they’ve played – sometimes on purpose, sometimes by accident. But always happily. There’s a decent amount of bands who receive repeat coverage on sonder, and generally it’s because I have a sense of admiration for those bands, but Against the Current are a little different. The combination of being there at the beginning (or nearly the beginning), having met and spoken to them enough times, genuinely enjoying their music and keeping up pace with photographing their shows, has instilled a sense of stewardship in me. And they were part of the inaugural class on sonder – sonder had existed in several different forms over the years prior to 2014, but 2014 is when it really coalesced and defined itself. At this point, having photographed them at nearly every Florida show (including a non-show – a standalone meet and greet), plus up in Boston, I feel the part of a documentarian, at least partially, and that compels me to follow them through to wherever they go. When I see the band playing to festival crowds in the U.K., or opening to 20,000 people on One OK Rock’s bill, or surrounded by thousands during a Q&A in the Philippines, I think back to that first meeting and bubble with pride.

With all this in mind, the opportunity to cover them in Boston, on opening night, was something I just didn’t want to miss.

So, on a dreary Thursday, I found myself once again on the T heading to Boston, again watching Massachusetts roll by.

Eastbound to the coast

Getting ready every day of that week was an effort. I woke up each morning in a gray catatonia, and that Thursday was no different. I let the hot water of the shower toast me because it was nice insulation against the encroaching cold outside. I slowly packed my bag because the blues were making me run at about 30 percent efficiency, and I had to zone in on every little thing I was doing to make sure I didn’t run out of energy halfway through. On the way to the Grafton T station, I got a Dunkin’ Donuts coffee, which is basically the state drink of Massachusetts. I sat there, relatively calm, and learned that the train was delayed, which didn’t cause as much anxiety as I thought it would.

Almost instinctively, I reached for Paramore when it arrived and enjoyed the tunes again. But this time, it was cold, bleak, and I had a lot on my mind. The weight of the seasonal depression acted as an emotion inhibitor, stripping away the intense anxiety I typically have before a concert and rendering everything neutral. A few ups. A few downs. But I felt way more level than I normally do. And level is a bizarre state of mind for me, as my mental states usually aren’t restrained; they usually catapult wildly from one spectrum to the other without apology. And feeling level is striking considering my struggle with anxiety and that I had no idea if I would even make the last train home – something that, in previous years, I wouldn’t be able to reconcile and would have shut the whole trip down.

Much of my mental workouts earlier in the week revolved around processing all the bleakness that was swirling around. There was one particular day that I stared out at a dark, rainy Worcester through a crying hospital window and saw all the naked trees and cars sloshing through puddles. I don’t think there was a single time that week that I felt a bounty of energy – even when I drank coffee, it was more like “whatever, this is caffeine.” I’m helplessly in tune with metaphors manifesting themselves in real life – I can probably partly blame all the literature courses I’ve taken in my life, but more likely it’s about the lens of extreme emotionality I experience life through, feelings that I’ve never really been able to properly convey or dial back. So, for example, summer in New England is a time of liveliness, vividness and in my recent case, adventure. But fall is about that life and vigor petering out, settling down. I think about stuff like that religiously, and it’s probably a contributing factor to why I’m susceptible to S.A.D.

Regardless, what eventually poked through that shell of the seasonal depression that day was realizing I was photographing a band I admired on their opening night, in my home state, surrounded by my personal nativity, during an actual change of season.

Everything was different from Florida.

And that is powerful. Even with the S.A.D., I felt things that hadn’t stirred within me for a long time or just not at all. Being in my mid-20s, the fervor of the late teens and early 20s has died, and it’s easy to fall into relative normalcy and consistency. Which is fine, but sometimes you don’t experience things raw as often. On this day, everything was basically flying at me raw: I overdrank on coffee (and could actually feel it), so my bones felt electrified, and when I spend enough time outside in cool weather, it naturally energizes me. I ended up walking all the way from the center of the city to the Cambridge area because I had just downloaded Uber, had no idea how to use it, and couldn’t get it to actually call a ride. So as I walked, my mind raced, and I thought a lot about things in my life that had led up to that moment. I was taking in a part of the city I didn’t make it to last time, so it was new to me, heightening the sense of discovery. And in the back of my head, I prepared for the tone of how I would write about Against the Current for the fifth time and reflected on their youthful exuberance and open pushback against systematic norms, a message preceded by a long line of punk ethos – even if Against the Current’s musical style was glossier than your traditional punk band.

Walking through the city during autumn was different – for one, the scores of tourists were far less pronounced, and it being a Thursday afternoon, it was much quieter than my last venture. During that week, I was on a mission to find at least some vestige of colorful autumn vibrancy, and it hit me out of nowhere. I rounded a corner into a plaza, and suddenly, what I was seeking leapt out at me. No holds barred, either – rich reds, browns and yellows. Even the park grass was vivid. I took in for a few minutes because, in all likeliness, it will probably be many years before I see it again.

And I got a really nice view when crossing the Charles River into Cambridge – these views invigorate me and make me feel like just a small cog in our beautiful world, a feeling I embrace. I like insignificance. It keeps me grounded and objective and nurtures the fly-on-the-wall instinct.

Pretty much every normal circumstance I knew whenever I photographed a concert was replaced with something new, with the slight exception of the band itself. But even then, it was different, as Against the Current were touring in support of their debut LP, In Our Bones, for the first domestic, non-festival headlining tour of the record cycle. I felt a rush of life on my walk there, ironically born underneath the thick shell of temporary depression. For the record, the melancholy really tried to bring me down, but little did it know that I’m too good at discovering meaning in misery.

One thing that helped this night is the whole “addicted to travel” thing – interestingly, I’m the happiest when I’m tired and at the end of a 13-hour drive. That was, by the way, part of my reality when I first met Against the Current those years ago, and it’s why I never balk at long-distance anything. Not that an hour-long train ride is harrowing road travel, but I was pretty far from home and on my own. If something went wrong, I would have been stuck in the city overnight by myself. For the record, going for a day trip on public transportation by myself is something that, years ago, would have stirred up such violent anxiety that I wouldn’t even dare. Anxiety is one of those things that you suffer through that either gets marginally better over time or just bowls you over. More likely, both, at different times, but that’s not really here.

Like I said, it was dreary all day, and the days were short, so it was dark before it made sense to be dark. One of the luxuries of going to shows at 24 is being over 21, so to kill time between sundown and doors opening, I had a few beers. An hour later, I was there in line freezing (because I underdressed and have thin blood, i.e. the “I Blame Florida” thing), but it was then that I realized, “Hey, I’m cold, depressed and a little tired, but I’m somehow still quite happy.” The irony is that a mixed tempo like that is not what culture generally props up. People like to talk about highs and lows, but as if they’re separate, not existing in the same space. Because it’s easier to qualify. But I’m obsessed with the gray that exists between black and white, and the tendency toward exploring subtlety is what drives my passion for this very site. It made sense for me to be both melancholic and happy in that moment – in fact, it made more sense than a lot of other things that go on in my head. By this point, cognizant of what was happening (again, I’m painfully self-aware), I let the feeling steep within me because I knew it would be helpful in a weird way.

The show was a textbook example of a good time. It took place in an almost literal den of comfort, a basement under a bar where the shared body heat of everyone kept the space toasty and insulated from the brisk autumn on the ground level. When I close my eyes and remember that night, I relish in the community of music and how comfortable I felt even though I was there by myself and far from home. I knew no one there except the performers, but I had been “there” before, absorbing the atmosphere and culture that comes with club shows. This is one thing you will never feel at an arena show, even if every single person in that basement room was there with you.

Even better, it was a photographer’s dream – never before have I experienced such helpful and bright front lighting. You could see people’s faces! Amazing!

I fly-on-the-wall’d myself pretty hard, keeping quiet and getting a sense for the venue and eventually just sticking toward the side of the stage for Against the Current’s set and taking photos for the entire hour or so. That photo above, by the way, is one of the very few I have framed to capture both the band and their fans. I like to look at photos like those and scan faces, try to get in the heads of people through their expressions. There’s admiration and excitement. And it’s a reminder of when I was that kid, right up in the front row – music journalism was always a natural segway from me, to transition from being in the crowd to trying to explain why it matters. Because that’s 100 percent something I believe in: That the alternative music and community matters, and that belief is pretty much the foundation for sonder.

More to the point (an interesting choice of phrasing considering we’re thousands of words in), as I discussed in the premiere feature on the night, this was one of the finest times to see Against the Current because In Our Bones really got to breathe. There was also this interesting moment when the band broke out into a cover of “Teenagers” by My Chemical Romance and reached backwards in music history to a song off an album that defined a generation. I found myself singing along to this one more than the band’s own songs, not because I’m a massive fan of MCR or not that familiar with Against the Current’s songs, but because the song is that catchy and significant.

Anyway, as the star of the night, they played most of In Our Bones, which is good pacing for the band. I’m a perennial hipster in this regard – in all the years I’ve been watching music, I often yearn for the earlier days of bands’ careers when they get to play most of their catalog. This is because it’s so more likely they’ll explore deep cuts, and anyone that’s a well-versed fan of a band knows the deep cuts are often what give you your sense of relation to the group. For Against the Current, deep cuts mean “Fireproof” (from Gravity), any of their older covers or a song such as “Something You Need” off of Infinity.

This would be one of my favorite live concert shots if the focus wasn’t off ever so slightly. That being said, it’s still a photo I enjoy a lot. I love catching performers lost in what they’re doing, when the true enjoyment really comes out. It’s a rare example of an on-stage shot that captures both the essence of the performance and a sense of intimacy.

Infinity, for the record, is the defining moment for my own experience with Against the Current. Infinity was the product of years of waiting. When the band released “Thinking,” I gave it some coverage and waited for what felt like forever for the band to get an actual record out. Then, oddly, I didn’t even pick it up at first. When I did, it hit me like a blockbuster. Infinity is one of my favorite collection of pop-rock songs in existence – it really shows the cohesion of Against the Current’s individual members. It goes for a big, booming, almost arena-ready sound and hits it out of the park. Will Ferri’s drums are explosive. Dan Gow’s guitar work is crisp, and he has a knack for delicious, spirited hooks and leads. Chrissy is youthful and owns the poppy nature of these songs. Vocoder effects and layered secondary instruments are drizzled into these songs and give them a shot of depth. These songs reek of penultimate youth and love; in my initial review of it, I said that they would be the perfect choice for a contemporary remake of Fast Times At Ridgemont High, and I still stand behind that. The classic and timeless nostalgia of things such as summer break and young love are embedded into Chrissy’s intonation and lyrics. And the duo of Dan and her aren’t just cohesive – they positively feed and flow from each other; the two detonate together, guitar leads blasting to uppity choruses that she soars into. I listen to and cover many bands for sonder, and it’s only once in a blue moon that you find debut records cut so skillfully, even rarer that they’re instant classics. Part of the magic was also the cooks in the kitchen: Zack Odom and Kenneth Mount, who are responsible for some of the most timeless pop-punk records ever (Mayday Parade’s A Lesson In Romantics, Cartel’s Chroma, All Time Low’s Put Up Or Shut Up), were the production brains for this record. Infinity was an awakening for me, a collection of songs that lit a fire in me, something not too common in my music consumption as of late.

Some years ago, I had a Nissan Altima (my first car) that my brother and I installed a sound system in. It had an amp and a sub that really kicked, and it was around the time when Infinity first came out. I would drive around town and crank it almost to the max, relishing in the explosive tones, bass, and energy in these songs. Just five songs, but I had the album nearly on repeat. It was a pleasant getaway to peter around town taking in these songs that felt eternally vibrant.

Back to the show: Even as it was happening, that nagging feeling of woe that had been wafting inside my head for the week kept at it, regardless of stubborn pockets of resisting happiness. In what’s perhaps a desired curse, such melancholy intensifies my fly-on-the-wall instinct. Sort of like this: Oh, wow. Look at everyone enjoying themselves. That would be nice. But I know I couldn’t fully immerse myself in that feeling, so I’ll just document it.

Actually, regardless of hilariously inept mental state, I generally purposely distance myself from being in the middle of fandom because it helps sharpen my editorial eye and maintain subject/journalist separation. But I love seeing others experience fandom. Of course I enjoy concerts. But I also flirt with classic objectivity, so I try to observe more than engage. At the same time, considering the long history I have of observing Against the Current, it’s hard to not feel some sort of wistfulness, to root for them. I find this to be a fundamental paradox in music journalism, kind of in the vein of the observer effect in science: By covering a band, you naturally draw closer to them. After all, when music comes across my desk to review or cover or take photos of, something about it needs to be an experience I enjoy or, at the very least, is something I can convince myself others will enjoy. But it’s so much easier to do good music journalism when you care about what you’re covering, least of all because the closer you get, the more intimately you know the music and will be able to talk about it better.

This conundrum reflects part of the core experience of music – the fact that, at base level, it is an emotional experience, and the more you cover a particular band, the harder it is to divorce yourself from that emotion. Covering a press conference is fairly straightforward. Covering music is wading waist-deep in the emotion of the moment and trying to come out without feeling heartbroken, happy, enthused, motivated, or any of the very emotions the musicians are trying to convey. How is that a sensible process? I mean, I just spent a whole paragraph raving about the band’s debut album. How would I have reviewed that music without getting in the weeds and not getting grass shavings on my socks? I’m not saying it’s impossible or that it’s even hard to take a step back from an emotional experience with music in order to write objectively, but I think there’s room for thoughtful, impactful music journalism that is both informative and emotive.

If you haven’t realized it, the concept of internal conflict is wreaking havoc throughout this piece. Happy v. sad. Past v. present. Childhood v. adulthood. Objectivity v. emotion. But, like I said earlier, it isn’t actually stark, distinctively separate differences that define our experiences. It’s often the nuanced in-between that makes actual sense. We yearn for the distinct, so it is often hard to confront the gray area that’s actually behind most things. This is, at its core, one of the uplifting thing about music – it has this ability to override things and dunk you into environments, sort of like the memory triggers I talked about in the beginning of this piece. Theoretically, anyway. Have you ever had a really bad day, but masked the negativity by reminding yourself there’s a show you’re going to see soon? That thought is merely a root. Dig it up, and it leads to so much more. This is part of the magic of music. It’s a reverberation of some of the psychological phenomena that defines the human experience, and most of the time, this effect can be in full blast, and we don’t even realize it. Music reaches so deeply into the human experience in an animalistic way. It floods into you. Remember: I can listen to “Daydreaming” and somehow, in my mind, be transported back to that train to Boston, even though I’m physically in my room thousands of miles away. I’m sure you have a song like this. And chances are, if you listen to a song you heard a lot growing up, you’ll feel traces of a memory from your childhood. This is why it seems so difficult and nonsensical to strive after true objectivity in non-hard news music journalism, and this is also why people who make the effort to be actively negative about bands seem pretty dull.

Part of the mission of sonder has been to bring the inward reflection that has made this piece (and all of music) possible to your brains in a percolated way, to try to unravel the machinations of why bands make you feel certain ways. As far as Against the Current goes, despite writing about them half a dozen times, I still haven’t fully grasped what it means to hear them. I’m confident I can bring a piece of them to you every time I write about them, but I’m not sure if that piece is even a fraction as meaningful as what it’s like to be in the room. To be in that Boston basement where the sonic energy is floating around the room, rushing through everyone, making strangers into friends. It’s kind of like that blunt feeling you get after a good movie when the credits roll and you walk out awash in the emotion of what you just saw. It’s non-transferrable, but other people who were there get it.

Probably my best photo of the entire band all in the frame at once. Unfortunately, it’s tough to get everyone in focus when you’re dealing with long focal lengths and the wide apertures used for dark settings, but this is genuine Against the Current.

The discomforting thing about this is that writing about music is impossible. You know how the very notes and structure of instrumentals (let’s not even talk about vocals and lyrics) can make you feel something intense, something that, despite your best efforts, you just can’t relate to another human being? As in, “the tone of this guitar lead makes me remember the feeling of when I was 16 in Ohio in July falling in love” or “this keyboard riff puts me right back in downtown Orlando seeing a friend I haven’t seen in years and laughing at his joke” or whatever other combination of specific emotions you get from music that you can’t relate? Writing about music is like sticking your fingers in your ears and saying “la la la” to that; to boldly be stupid. But I try anyway because it’s so unifying, and because it means something to me, too. Again: Why fully divorce yourself from the emotion?

This story wouldn’t have been as cohesive if even one part of the situation was different – if it wasn’t Against the Current, if it wasn’t Massachusetts, if it wasn’t autumn. Which is a little weird because, on the surface, none of those things seem integral to the narrative, until you acknowledge that these things are all influenced by my emotional interpretation of them, and that this interpretation is part of the same human experience that makes music so intense. The seasonal fluctuation of New England, if you haven’t realized, is the absolute catalyst going on here, not because it has some sort of intellectual significance, but because it goes straight to the core of who I am as a person. It’s something I experienced in my youth, didn’t experience for 17 years, then was suddenly dunked back into. It sounds silly, but I was surrounded by who I am. And then the band was the topping to that because, damn it, I haven’t managed to maintain objectivity about them, and I personally care about them and their career. How couldn’t I? Has this ruined a sense of objectivity? Does this make my words here cheaper?

In March of 2015, the Nissan Altima, with its nice sound system, became a heap of twisted metal after a reckless driver pulled right out in front of me despite having a blind spot. I crawled out of the wreck with, luckily, nothing but a broken clavicle. Later that year, after I was healed up but still didn’t have another car to drive, I posted an article on sonder highlighting bands we wanted to see on Vans Warped Tour 2016. Chrissy randomly replied to it and asked if I was going to be at their upcoming Orlando show. When I responded and told her I had gotten in an accident and wasn’t sure if I could make it, she sent her well wishes and said she hoped to see me there. It was out of the blue, appreciated (during a time when my mood was in the gutter) and one of the things that cemented the bond I feel for the band.

Chances are, you have your own version of Boston or Against the Current, something that means something to you because it intertwines with your history in a meaningful way.

I did not manage to slow down very much for most of that day. The only way I made it back to South Station for the very last train back into Grafton was thanks to leaving the exact second Against the Current finished playing “Gravity” and getting into an Uber, since the app actually decided to cooperate. At that point, I got to see Boston float by at night, gleaming under the rain, and there was this tune that crept into my head – a tune I first became familiar with a few years ago, a tune that I have a deep emotional connection to. It’s a connection that I can’t explain very well, for the reasons I’ve outlined. No – it’s not Against the Current or Paramore or a band from years ago. It’s by a band named Transit (an apt name for this story).

It is “Young New England,” and it has become a part of how I filter and process my past. It’s managed to bring me closer to my home, even when I’m in Florida. It’s a folksy drinking song, but it’s not just that. A few lines repeat through the song:

Oh, Young New England.

Over and over again, Young New England.

New England, in a photo.

When I first got into this song, I played it on repeat like people often do when they find a song they like. But I didn’t get bored. I kept playing it. I was driving home once from a show in West Palm Beach. It was the dead of night, and I was taking the roads through the middle of the state, so I was basically alone on the roads, creeping through Florida’s desolate, sad sugar roadways. And I must have played “Young New England” 10 or 15 times in a row. I have heard those notes so many times, and over time, I attached part of myself to them, part of my youth and love of New England. So now, those feelings are inseparable. Go listen to it. You won’t feel those feelings. You might not even like it. And, that’s part of the struggle of what I do on sonder. I listen to the song when I want to feel at home. It’s a cradle. But you probably won’t get that.

I was exhausted by the time I got back home, but unlike earlier in the week, I had re-gained some motivation and mojo. I was wiped out, but it was underscored by being fueled by doing what I love to do. It helped that I got some of my best photos of the band that night.

I thought hard about how I wanted to end this piece, but there are so many moving parts and tangential discussions that it seems impossible to tie it up. And more to the point, a wishy-washy, up-beat “and here’s why all this matters!” ending would be a disservice to the grayness clouding most of this piece. In a short word, the psychology of nostalgia and memory is fascinating to me, and being as awkwardly self-aware as I am fueled this. This piece began as impulses in my mind maybe three months after the show, but it took me a while to get it down on the page and flesh it out. Even then, though, I had the feeling that that night in Boston had been important to me on a deeper level. Hell, I might have even known that the night of, and it just took a while to uncover it.

If there really is a bigger picture here, it has to do with how and why sonder operates the way it does. After all, Against the Current, the other bands we cover, our Orlando HQ, our home town – these are insignificant details to you, but they’re part of our identity. The theory behind sonder wouldn’t change if you swapped these elements out, but the character would. And that’s, of course, because emotional connection to everyday things affects everything. And I just hope that, even if you don’t identify with mine, you have your own and you never let anyone belittle that or take it away.

Because the things that define you aren’t just things out there in the world – they’re your things, pieces of the world that you turn into a home.

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Article, photos, and excessive self-reflection by sonder editor Andrew Friedgen. Like this? Sonder is an independent music, travel and photography publication at sonderlife.com. Give us a follow here or at our Twitter, Instagram or Facebook if you like this!

[harrystupelo-blog]

Sleep On The Floor

Harry inhaled deeply, the smell of sun cream and ocean water filling his nostrils. The grass was cool under his bare feet and his bare shins were being tickled by the wind. He had on his favorite sunglasses and an old t-shirt and swimming shorts paired with a snapback. Harry smiled softly to himself, enjoying the warm breeze and sounds of happy people surrounding him. He truly hadn’t felt this at ease since his time in Jamaica - there was something about sun and sand and good company that made him so relaxed. The sun was beginning to set over the horizon, causing the entire area to turn a beautiful golden shade, and the air was full of barbecuing food, sweet sangria, and chatter-filled music and dancing. He had a glass of champagne in his hand, his phone in the other. He’d just left behind a giggling Jeff and Glenne who seemed fully ready to start making out in the middle of the dance floor, and he was dodging couples left and right, but he didn’t at all feel alone. He was surrounded by people who loved him, however tonight, he had eyes for only one girl, his daughter.

Harry followed a chattering laugh, the familiar sound filling his ears and bringing him peace and calm. Fixing his snapback, he set down his glass and crouched down, lifting up a familiar, tiny being and spinning her around, peppering kisses to Maya’s face. She squealed, wrapping her arms around her dad’s neck as her little legs wrapped around his upper body, fitting into her father easily. Harry nuzzled his face into her shoulder, her baby-soft skin smelling of soap and distant seawater. She had on a pink sundress over her swimsuit, her hair freshly washed and in a small bun at the top of her head. The two were in Hawaii for his friend’s wedding, and the rehearsal had been earlier that day. Since Harry was the best man, he’d spent a lot of the day at the stag party for Jon, his old friend who was getting married, while his daughter spent the day at the beach with Glenne. Harry hadn’t seen Maya all day, and he had to say he missed her. They would be in Hawaii for the next few days, and so far it had been nothing but relaxation and fun. Harry loved spending time with his girl, and he loved not having to do anything but spend time with friends and in the sun. He wished life could always be so simple.

“How are you, Birdy? Fun day? Were you a good girl for Auntie Glenne?” Harry asked. He picked up his glass, pocketing his phone. With Maya chattering away at his hip about her fun day, he bounced her up and down with every other word, small giggles spurting out of her lips. Harry grinned, nuzzling his cheek against her’s before placing her on the ground once they were in a clearing, less partygoers and children dancing around. He took a sip of his champagne, smiling curiously at his daughter, who was looking up at him expectantly. “What do you need, sweet girl?” he murmured, getting on his knees before her tucking a loose curl behind her ear. “Do you need to use the toilet? Are you hungry?”

“Daddy, can I have some apple juice please?” she asked, reaching for his glass. Harry let out a breathy laugh, kissing her nose softly.

“No can do, baby girl. This is special, uh, adult juice.” He was never very good at coming up with things on the spot. He smiled, kissing her forehead and smoothing out Maya’s frown lines. “Come on, Birdy, Dad will get you some juice. And crisps, too? Sound nice?”

Maya nodded, sighing a little. She reached up to hold her father’s hand carefully, her other hand gripping his shorts, staying close to his side through the crowds of adults she didn’t know. Harry scooped her into his arms, visibly feeling her body relax as she resumed her chattering easily. Harry pressed kisses to her forehead as he listened, stroking the back of her head carefully while also trying not to spill his drink.

Opposite the grassy, crowded party and onto the beach, a few couples and children were either lounging in the cool sand or enjoying the waves before the sun set. Harry smiled at Maya, sat beside him in the grass and humming to herself as she sipped her apple juice. Harry had since replenished his own, uh, juice, and he had his arm stroking up and down her back as she sipped and talked to him about how Glenne had braided her hair today after her bath. Jeff and Glenne joined them after a bit, when Maya was leaning against Harry’s side and playing with his white sunglasses, ones she dubbed his “Willy Wonka glasses.” Jeff patted Harry’s shoulder, leaning in to give Maya’s forehead a kiss as Glenne pulled her into her lap, Maya happy to sit with three of her favorite people. She couldn’t really explain it, but she always felt very safe around Jeff and Glenne - and her father, of course. He was her safest person. It was difficult for her to reason it with herself, but she knew her dad would go many lengths to protect her and make her happy and safe.

“Jeff, do you have an adult juice too?” Maya asked curiously, pointing to the red drink in Jeff’s hand that certainly wasn’t just cranberry juice. Harry rolled his head to the side, eyeing Jeff carefully. The man wasn’t drunk; he would never hang around Maya if he were anything but sober, both he and Harry knew that, but he wasn’t exactly...good at censoring himself around kids.

“Daddy said he has adult juice,” Maya said, frowning and reaching forward to take a sip of Harry’s water bottle that he offered her, Harry wiping some that dribbled down her chin.

“Yeah, it’s adult juice,” Jeff nodded, trying and failing to keep a straight face. Glenne rolled her eyes, playing with the straps of Maya’s dress. “You wouldn’t like it, babe. Too sour.”

Maya frowned, then, taking another sip of Harry’s water, Harry smiling at the confused expression on her face, lying on his back with his forearms supporting him, smiling softly. Maya was truly growing up to be a beautiful girl - her eyes were the same green as Harry’s, her dimples soft and her hair curly and unruly. She was a happy, gentle girl with so much love surrounding her, just as Harry had grown up. He ignored the comparisons to their bodies - Gemma liked to giggle to him that just as Maya was a little chubby from baby fat around her middle, Harry had some of his own around his hips, too. (He refused to admit he’d gained Dad Weight, refused. Plus, it had only been a few pounds. That didn’t count.)

“Uncle Nick said that adult juice makes Daddy dance a lot,” Maya said casually, finishing the last of her crisps and wiping her hands on the grass, sliding Harry’s sunglasses over her face. Harry’s mouth opened in shock, Jeff and Glenne howling with laughter. Harry sat up, Maya squealing as he lunged for her, falling over her feet as she stood, hiding behind Glenne, who was laughing and trying not to spill her wine. Harry tried to grab for Maya, laughing when she went under his arm, but he looped his other arm around her bum and swung her into the air, holding her firmly as he spun her around, his glasses sliding off Maya’s face.

“Daddy, no!” she laughed when he, gently, took them off her little face, putting them on his own head and kissing in between her eyes.

“I’m gonna toss you into the ocean, I’ve had it with you,” he growled, giggling when Maya gasped and tried to squirm out of his arms. Harry stood in the ankle deep water, still warm but not as warm when the sun was up. Maya flailed her legs and kicked him in the nads once or twice, causing him to wince as Jeff laughed loudly.

“One.....two....three...” Harry said, jostling her and pretending to drop her into the ocean, nuzzling his face and blowing a raspberry to her shoulder with each count. He set her down gently on her feet in the ocean, the water hitting just below her dress. “Careful, Birdy, hold my hand please,” he said softly - although the water was clear as day, he didn’t want Maya to fall in and get upset from the cool water. “Stay with me, okay? We can swim tomorrow morning before breakfast.”

“Okay, Daddy,” Maya nodded, keeping a firm grip on Harry’s hand while also treading carefully through the water, her feet bare like Harry’s were.

“Push him in, Maya!” Jeff called, Harry turning to give him the finger when Maya wasn’t looking, but in his distraction, two tiny hands pushed his thighs to the side, Harry flailing into the knee-deep water, his swimming trunks and grey t-shirt immediately soaked. He reached for Maya, Glenne cheering behind them as he pulled the squealing girl into his chest, her dress becoming as soaked as he was as she gasped and giggled, holding onto his neck as he laughed, holding her tightly as he stood. Harry made quick work of finding a thick towel to wrap her in, cradling her to his chest like she was a newborn. “Let’s go dry off and get cleaned up before s’mores, yeah?”

“Are you tired, Birdy?” Harry asked softly, running his hands through Maya’s hair. The two had taken quick showers and Harry had gotten Maya into a sweatshirt and shorts, bringing a blanket along with them as they joined the group back down on the beach, sat by a roaring bonfire that kept them all warm and happy. Maya had spent much of the evening playing in the sand with the other children she had befriended on the trip, but after she’d started yawning she found her way back to her father, who pulled her into his lap wordlessly and wrapped her in the blanket he brought for the two of them. Maya was sleeping off and on on Harry’s chest, her head right where his heart was beating and her hands loosely clutching his red Hawaiian t-shirt. It was past ten o’clock now, and Harry couldn’t help but agree with the small nod Maya gave to him, her eyes fluttering. It had been a long, fun day for the both of them, but now it was time to say goodnight. Harry bade his goodnights to the group, keeping Maya in a bundle of blanket in his arms, keeping his voice low so he wouldn’t wake the sleeping girl. As he made his way back to their hotel, a short walk away, Maya hummed, her face raising from Harry’s chest, her hair mussed against her face.

“Daddy?” she whispered in confusion, Harry shushing her gently.

“Go back to sleep, Birdy, s’just me. Let’s go to bed, yeah? Long day for us. We’ll have fun tomorrow,” he promised. As long as his daughter was safe, well-fed, and warm, he didn’t need anything else. So when he laid her down in his bed instead of her own and she nuzzled into his chest immediately as she peacefully slept, he figured he was doing something right with this parenting thing.